Vedek

During his time in Athshin, Vedek had eaten most of his meals alone. Isolation protected himself from any curious eyes, including those of his allies of circumstance. It was so no one could see his face once he removed the mask. Eating fast was key, so that he may return before anyone could question his absence.

It helped that the meals were never bountiful. They had survived on small snacks and mouthfuls of nutrition. That first morning in Sráid Vedek faced a difficult decision. He was set in front of a meal that was bountiful, in a circumstance where stealing a full plate away would court more suspicion than staying. Fellior had ordered a breakfast feast. Fleets of honeyed hams, boiled eggs, and soft biscuits exited the kitchens on silver trays. After a week of living on scraps, Vedek’s hunger had a stranglehold on his paranoia.

Next to him was Azeroth, who gladly loaded his plate with everything caught within his long reach. Odile was doing much the same. Vedek felt that if anyone challenged her on how a royal shouldn’t shovel entire eggs into her mouth, she would chastise them for delaying her first meal after a month in captivity. Onakie stood beside her in full armor. Vedek had never seen elven plate made to fit such a broad form. Fellior had only just arrived. He spread butter across a biscuit while idly looking over a letter.

Per Fellior’s request, they were dressed in fresh clothes. Azeroth had a very loose shirt patterned with trees in silver thread. He couldn’t decide on whether he wanted the sleeves rolled or unrolled. Vedek wore a white tunic trimmed with silver and black that fit him quite well. Odile had taken multiple hot baths to wash away the last month. Her dress was dark burgundy, but quite worn and almost dusty looking. In lieu of a royal tiara or crown, she had a silver hair clip that glinted in the white sunlight beaming from the windows high on the opposite wall.

Vedek gave into the will of his stomach. Slowly, he lowered his bandanna. Only Onakie had her eyes on him, but she soon turned her attention to wiping the princess’ mouth. As it became obvious that he was not about to be assassinated, Vedek reached across the table to take one of the biscuits.

All the food was excellent. Not just because he was hungry, but because it was the food of a royal. Vedek had eaten like this most days of his life. Fellior and Azeroth soon took notice of Vedek’s face in their own time, but neither commented. Vedek wondered if Azeroth even cared. Vedek rubbed his jaw and realized he needed to shave.

Fellior made idle conversation. “You’ll be pleased to know the wolf will make a full recovery once he has rested.”

This was a relief to Vedek and Azeroth. They might not be alive if not for Frost’s actions. Vedek had also grown quite fond of Frost and his unwavering optimism. In the alternating waves of shock and paranoia that Vedek had experienced since waking in that cart, it had been comforting to have one such as Frost beside him.

Their meal was interrupted by the arrival of Kelmin, dressed much the same as he had last night. His scales strobed as he walked through the alternating spotlights created by the windows. Odile and Onakie watched Kelmin’s approach very carefully.

“Salutations and good morning to all parties, especially the returned Princess.” Kelmin bowed to an almost perfect angle. “Good King Ruaidrí, I believe it is time for our morning consultation.”

“So it is Kelmin. You respect my desire for consistency. However, I am sure you recognize this morning is not like most. We can meet tomorrow, or in the afternoon if you insist. I wish to stay with my daughter.”

Fellior received an approving smile from Onakie for that. Vedek remembered Fellior placing great emphasis on family when the two had met a century prior to negotiate a trade deal for silver. An incident was almost caused when Fellior had insisted on canceling negotiations early so he could personally tend to his pregnant wife. The advisers assigned to Vedek had called the action rude. At the time Vedek agreed, but he also felt it was rude in turn to insist a man ignore the woman he loved.

Kelmin was quite expressionless facially, but his voice bounced from tenor to baritone in a matter of syllables. “I understand. It is in your authority to make that decision, but I also have a matter that the Order wishes your input on.”

From where he was sitting Vedek could not see Kelmin’s legs and imagined his stiff manner was because he was a puppet on a stick.

Odile gently touched her fathers arm. “It’s alright father, I won’t evaporate if you speak to Kelmin,”

Fellior reciprocated the action and laughed. “I hope you are right. Kelmin, if it truly is important then we shall speak in the sitting room. Onakie, please assign yourself to Odile for now.”

The two men exited the dining room through a set of green doors. Onakie and Odile exchanged suspicious looks.

“In Ramuff the Order stayed outside the city walls.” Vedek observed.

Onakie explained that Kelmin was the only Order member in Sráid. Sráid laws denied the formation of independent militia, so the Order couldn’t send their soldiers like in Ramuf. Instead they sent Kelmin to negotiate his way into a position advising for the King. When Odile was missing, Kelmin also took command of the city’s defenses. He was well preserved for his age, but he was already past midlife for a coatlmade and had extensive experience in military strategy.

Odile twirled her fork between her fingers to help her think. “We may not get another opportunity for Kelmin to be this lulled. Onakie, I insist we raid his office for evidence.”

Onakie made a face like she had eaten a whole lemon. Her large brown eyes looked to the green doors across the room. “You’re right, but Kelmin has made many guards loyal to him in your absence. I can’t guarantee our actions won’t find their way back to him.”

“You need a distraction.” Azeroth tented his fingers over his empty plate. “I can help with that. Just find me a good bucket.”

Onakie and Odile were intrigued and accepted Azeroth’s aid. The three departed in unison. Vedek retied his mask. He made an excuse about needing fresh air and a view and asked the posted guards where the nearest balcony would be. He was directed to a small outlet on the next floor that observed the silver mine. The skies had cleared from the rainstorm. Sráid was active. He could spy the trail of miners heading to the base of the left hill. In the town proper businesses were opening. The castle was the tallest structure in the city, allowing Vedek a clear view of any street he pleased. He hadn’t taken note when he crossed the night prior, but in lieu of high walls the city had multiple towers dotted at many intersections. That was a Tuatha method of defense. A skilled collective of archers could defend the city streets by leading the enemies to choke points established in the city layout.

A hawk dove past him with a blue and white ribbon tied to its leg. High above him was the aviary for messenger birds. He scanned the Keep walls until he saw the reflection of Fellior and Kelmin in a window a floor beneath him. The sitting room had a wide balcony of its own and the doors to the balcony were open. Vedek looked behind him to confirm he was still being watched. He made a show of leaning on the railing of the balcony like he was lost in the scenery.

Castles constructed by Fae have to take some extra precautions compared to other races. Namely the matter of acoustics. Many secret conversations happen in a lord’s keep, and all Fae races have exceptional hearing. Castles were built not to emphasize acoustics, but to dampen them. However, Vedek had been trained in selective hearing by Longstep. This was a meditative technique for a ranger to isolate and listen to all the sounds around him individually. He never had much time to practice the technique, but he had learned the basics. Longstep was an excellent teacher, after all.

He exhaled and shut his eyes. Next was to breathe shallowly through the nose and out through the mouth. He let his body go numb to all sensation except sound. He could hear everything around him at once. He had to mentally catalog each sound before he could isolate them. Above him, in the aviary, he could hear more hawks shuffling in their nests. One of the guards in the room behind him burped. Trees on the hills rustled from the breeze. Multiple doors in the courtyard far below were opening and closing as the castle staff continued their morning chores. Finally, he recognized the sound of Fellior’s voice.

“-Can’t say that I have any preference on who wins the Clash. Sráid is the city I rule and so it is the city I concern myself with. If Caballero Reballo is victorious he will see the same support I have given all masters of Spiral City. That same support will be extended to any other that is victorious.”

Finding Kelmin’s voice was as simple as waiting for whoever spoke in response to this. “That does not surprise me. Ghetsis believes I have the ear of the king. I hope his request was understandable.”

“It is. You have rooted yourself within my court this last month. Though I think it is time you remembered your place.” Fellior almost growled on those last words.

“Have I done something to offend you King Ruaidrí?”

“My daughter tells me the path to her rescue was in the Syke Quarry well within a day’s travel from this city. You insisted on heading the search for Odile, assuring me that your caballeros and my knights had searched thoroughly over my own lands before you sent them afield in other territories. I trusted you with the safe return of my daughter and it was accomplished by outside forces. Can you say anything in your defense?”

“It was a regrettable error. I think the caballeros themselves are more at fault. I reported their results. They are the ones who failed to investigate the quarry in question.”

“My grandfather had a saying about people in power: ‘You know where their true loyalties lie when they are on trial.’ When faced with blame you shift it to those loyal to you. That alone should be justification enough for me to never seek your council again. The only reason you remain is because of your actions keeping this city safe between the attacks we suffered. My soldiers commended your tactics. You can praise yourself for accomplishing half the duties you set out to fulfill.”

“I understand. I will aim to better live up to your standards. Perhaps if I could speak to your daughter I might redeem myself by hunting the remainder of those that hurt her.”

Having heard enough Vedek inhaled sharply to take himself out of the meditation. Breaking from the trance caused his other senses to flare back twice as strong. The morning sun was blinding. It took several steps to regain his composure because of how light his limbs felt. The guards inside didn’t notice his irregular behavior. Vedek returned to the dining room in time to see Kelmin hastily weave between the servants clearing the table. Fellior chewed on a ripe green apple thoughtfully. He turned to Vedek.

“I suppose it is time for us to talk, correct?”

Fellior was younger than Vedek by a little past a century, but he had inherited his throne earlier. Fellior took Vedek to his study, the same place they had met last night. Fellior shut the doors himself and offered Vedek a glass of spring water shipped directly from Fae’Riam. Vedek accepted. The first few sips reminded Vedek of how inferior the water of Athshin was in comparison.

“It is strange to say that my daughter’s return was not the most surprising thing to happen to me last night. Far and away the first had to be the King of Fae’Riam, disguised as a common archer, being her rescuer.”

Neither man sat. The tension of this moment kept them from relaxing. Vedek felt that he couldn’t bend his legs if he tried.

“If it eases your mind, I can tell you it was not in my plans to encounter your daughter.” Vedek said.

Fellior made a small gesture that it did, but also mentioned that made the coincidence more implausible. He jumped to the point in asking why Vedek was here.

Vedek’s throat was in a knot. He drank more of the cooling spring water to clear it. The room was dark. There was just one window and it was shut with the curtains drawn. Rather than open it Fellior flicked three fingers on his right hand in sequence. With each motion light entered the room without source. It was a common Fae spell, though Vedek couldn’t cast it due to his inefficiency with arcana.

“What have you heard from Fae’Riam?” Vedek asked.

Fellior quizzically raised one of his thin eyebrows. “Nothing alarming. Nothing about missing kings, or exiled kings, or anything to explain your presence here.”

Vedek sighed. That was at least confirmation that the news had not spread far. Perhaps Zexven had covered up his actions. Vedek explained his usurpation with light detail. He didn’t explain the means Zexven used to take the throne, only that he succeeded. Vedek’s time in Athshin was given similar treatment, though there was less to hide there. Fellior could not be entirely trusted. A good man certainly, but not familiar enough to hear the full story. Fellior saved his questions for the end of Vedek’s explanation. Partway through the story Fellior took a seat and stared at the charred logs in the fireplace.

“What will you do now, Vedek?” Was his first question upon hearing the story’s end. His expression was unreadable.

Vedek hissed through his teeth. He had spent all night wondering that same question. “I need to start finding more allies. I need to hear what is happening in Fae’Riam. Together, we might bring my brother to justice.”

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Fellior made a small chuckle. He looked amused, but his tone was cold. “Together? I hope the irony of this is not lost on you: a son of the Slevelisk finds himself an exile in Athshin and seeks the help of a son of the Ruaidrí. If you think I am your ally simply because you are the rightful king then you are mistaken. Your family severed mine from Fae’Riam. Relations have mended, but that does not change the fact that I am an elden fae who has never crossed into Fae’Riam. I am your trade partner, nothing more.”

Vedek had braced himself for that. It was a long shot that Fellior would have any loyalty to Vedek.

Fellior pinched his goatee and observed Vedek very carefully. “...That said, it is not in my interests or ethics to abandon you. You rescued my daughter and you have suffered a great misfortune. If your story is true, then I’ll allow you to remain in Sráid as my guest. You will be free to use my hawks to send messages and perhaps through that you will find the allies you need.”

That calmed Vedek. The knot had come free and he felt he could finally sit. This meeting was the first progress he had actually made in striking back against his brother. Fellior processed his own silent strain. The King needed to speak his mind and lay the terms of their alliance. Vedek could imagine himself making the same decision were he and Fellior to trade places.

“If you do find allies, will there be war in Fae’Riam?” Fellior spoke into his empty glass.

“If it comes to that.” Vedek spoke slowly so his thoughts didn’t exceed his voice. “In an ideal future I would take the throne back as decisively as Zexven took it from me. First I must find out what has happened since that night. How many people know? Who can be trusted? What will it take to return home?”

“It has been a long time since there was a civil war in Fae’Riam.” Fellior’s voice trailed off. He regretted his comment immediately. Vedek kept his eyes of royal purple from making contact with Fellior’s eyes of electric blue. The previous Fae Civil War was an era ago, but the scars it left were visible even now.

“If our grandfathers could see us now, do you think they would cry tears of joy or anger?” Vedek asked.

Fellior shifted in his seat to look at the mantel. Three portraits in silver frames showed the last three generations of Ruaidrí males up till the present. From this angle, the portrait of Fellior’s grandfather, Agvind Ruaidrí, looked like it was judging the occupants of the room. It was the look Vedek associated with the man once called “The Joyless Traitor.”

Fellior sighed. He rolled his head back to Vedek. “It depends. Much has changed, but perhaps not as much as we think. Fae’Riam has rebuilt from the Terror of the Third Era without Old Vadalis, which has remained independent. I think that is enough to make my grandfather’s ghost smile.”

“If I remember, that is what you said during my last visit.” Vedek’s eyes couldn’t pull away from the portrait of Agvind.

“That was a century ago, correct? I’d like to think I’ve grown more since then, especially after Odile came into my life and her mother left it. I remember you asking me if I wanted my exile status rescinded. I refused.”

“You told me it didn’t matter anymore. Athshin was the only place you knew.”

Making the offer had been a personal crusade for Vedek. His advisers told him to treat the Ruaidrí as if they truly existed outside of Fae society. Vedek had enamored himself with the idea that he could reinstate Sráid as a colony of Fae’Riam. Fellior’s refusal had been a sobering moment for Vedek.

“I still believe that. I meant it when I said I have no loyalty to Fae’Riam. It might as well be Sanaatan on the other side of the world. Odile though... She’ll surpass me, and I don’t want her stunted by limitations on where she is allowed to travel. When —if— you become king again I want my family exonerated. That is the price I offer for staying as my guest.”

Vedek gave his word. The tension of the meeting had been tamed. They did not speak for much after that. Fellior had duties to fulfill and a banquet to prepare. He allowed Vedek to use his writing desk to draft the first letter he would send to Fae’Riam. Vedek found himself unable to write a single word. Regarding what to say, or who to send it to, his mind was as blank as the parchment on the desk. He did feel confidant in setting it aside until he could craft the perfect message. Fellior did tell him he was free to stay as long as needed.

Vedek realized he had yet to visit Frost in the infirmary. He had to see with his own eyes that the wecher was recovering. He took a single step out of the King’s study when he was overcome with another anxiety: Azeroth and Frost had to be told that he was staying in Sráid. They would want an explanation. Something they would pass on to Rerume and Cole. How much should he tell them? How much were they owed?

These questions had to be set aside like the blank letter, otherwise they might paralyze Vedek. It did strike him odd at how freely he was allowed to move about the Keep. Many of Sráid’s knights were still beyond the state’s borders searching for the lost Princess. Like many Fae castles, Sráid’s Keep was designed to incorporate many rooms and passages. Barring important rooms like the family’s bed chambers, everything was meant to flow into each other. Non-fae had mentioned that it felt easy to get lost in such castles while others questioned how the design in any way benefited the defenders during a siege. It was Fae philosophy that if the enemy was inside the castle, then they were already victorious. Through the Eras it seemed that multiple parts of Sráid had been replaced. It was a valuable city and had seen its share of attempted captures. It was a credit to the Ruaidrí bloodline that they kept the city across three generations.

On his way to the infirmary he passed through the mezzanine above the throne room. Fellior was seated with Odile beside him. Their thrones were made of a combination of aged wood, polished stone, and casted silver diamonds. The abundance of silver in the keep seemed almost a defiant act to Fae’Riam, where the finery was usually set in gold or gems. Onakie stood between the royal family. She rested her palms on the black pommel of a longsword that was flat at the end, which was planted firmly in front of her. On her back was an exceptionally large shield that resembled the lid to a basket.

The three were listening to the protests of a guard who seemed embarrassed by his own words. “The orc was bathing himself right there in the courtyard. He planted himself in front of the well and kept filling a bucket to wash himself with.”

Fellior sighed. “And this is a problem for my Keep guards, because…?”

The guard twisted his gloves between his hands.

“Well, the orc was bathing himself.” He repeated. “You know, naked. I-It wasn’t a problem for me, but some of the maidens working the courtyard seemed distressed by it. Rodry went to the orc to have him stop and cover himself, but the orc splashed him and kept at it.”

Fellior looked as if he’d rather be hearing any other complaint in the world. “I understand. That orc is an honored guest, but I suppose his behavior could be reigned in. When next I speak to him I shall address it.”

The guard was satisfied with that response. When he was well out of earshot Onakie turned to her liege and made a crack about how, unlike most of the guards, the orc bathed.

Vedek did not stay to see who would next approach the King. From the mezzanine was an exterior staircase that led straight to the courtyard. There was a commotion as two cooks chased down three escaped chickens. Vedek steered away from that while still heading straight to the infirmary which was attached to the courtyard but not to the Keep proper.

The infirmary was dedicated to the goddess Azmur, a minor deity of recovery and rest. Vedek’s eyelids felt heavy the moment he crossed the threshold. Unlike the Keep, this place was built to enhance the slightest sounds. Six stone slabs jutted from the from the ground. On each of these was a bed for patients, though only two were filled at this time. A hob girl paced between the two patients while rubbing a large black feather on the inside of a wide ceramic bowl. The bowl resonated with the feather, amplifying the sound of its brushing. The sound made Vedek’s skin tingle pleasantly.

The closest of the two patients was Frost. His eyes were shut as he breathed in time with the sound of the feather. The second patient was a human. She was awake, but had multiple scratches along her face and arm. From her attire and the stone dust on her clothes Vedek assumed she was a miner who had taken a bad fall. As the soft sounds washed over her, the miner’s cuts dried and closed. The hob with the bowl and feather saw Vedek enter. Her nostrils flared. A dire warning that he should not interrupt her process. Vedek quietly backed away from the beds while throwing up his palms to show he was compliant.

At the end of the ten minute ritual the miner stood tall. She thanked the cleric with a firm handshake and a bag of clinking coins. The hob approached Vedek after putting away her instrument.

“This is the Sráid Keep Infirmary. I am Alb, cleric of Azmur.” Even her voice was enough to send relaxed chills down Vedek’s spine.

Vedek bowed to the lady. He pointed to Frost, who was still asleep. “I am a friend of his, but if he is asleep I can return later.”

Alb bowed back. “I have never put my healing to one like him. At first he did not respond, but then we sedated him with a spell. Normally that is only required for advanced cases. After that, we could help him recover like normal.”

Holding her breath, like she was uncertain what would happen, she snapped her fingers at Frost. The drowsy atmosphere in the room vanished and Frost immediately woke. He flailed his head to assess his surroundings, stopping the moment he saw Vedek.

“My friend you-” the moment Frost tried to speak he yawned powerfully. Vedek yawned in response. Alb was immune.

“-Are you well?” Frost finished.

Alb left the two to talk. Vedek informed Frost of where they were and how long they had been there. Frost took it all in stride. He was still groggy from the divine magic. Azeroth arrived on his own time and Vedek was grateful that he was clothed. Frost’s wounds were sealed, but he was still ordered to rest as if they had healed naturally. Azeroth’s scars from the fight for Outpost Onx were now hard enough that the edge of a knife couldn’t cut them. Frost was thrilled to hear about a feast celebrating them. He had never seen a non-wecher celebration.

The entire time they exchanged pleasantries Vedek dug himself into a deeper mental hole about what to say regarding his staying in Sráid. Part of him enjoyed being Bréag the stoic archer. He wished he could see what would happen to him next, but he knew that Vedek Slevelisk’s duty lay with reclaiming his throne. Even with this truth affirmed, finding the actual courage to say it aloud was difficult.

“Bréag, who are you?”

Vedek jumped at the question. It was Azeroth that asked it. The coincidence of him raising the question just as Vedek was thinking on it seemed implausible. Vedek stammered a response while Azeroth’s grey eyes pierced him through.

“Does it matter?”

Azeroth scratched his freshly washed scalp. “Guess it doesn’t, but it seems to matter a lot to you.”

He mimed tying a bandanna over his mouth.

“I must admit my own curiosity” Frost announced. “The man who smelled like wine spoke of you as if you were deceiving us. Amaroks only believe in hiding the face from the elements, not to the pack. We have known you a week and yet I’ve never seen your full face without you hiding it shortly after.”

“I’ve seen it.” Azeroth grunted. “It looked like any other face. I wouldn’t hide it if I had it.”

Vedek balled his fists. He felt like he was on an ice floe drifting from the shore where Azeroth and Frost stood. The only way to return was to speak the truth. Any form of the truth.

“The truth is…” Vedek removed the bandanna covering his mouth, “I can’t tell you. It is a secret I must keep. This is my face. You may not recognize it, but there are many who will and that could bring danger worse than one hundred Solind Vissimas. I am sorry I can’t tell you more, but that is all I feel comfortable with revealing. You’ll have to accept that or detach me from the group.”

It was obvious that neither Frost or Azeroth recognized Vedek.

“Your secrets are your own. I wish you could trust me with them, but if the alternative is losing your friendship then I will bear my curiosity” Frost said calmly.

Azeroth shrugged. “Just wanted to see what you’d say. I don’t really care. A crowd of elden is the same face thirty times, yours isn’t any different. We also killed a big bug together. That’s more important to me.”

Vedek’s heart beat a bittersweet rhythm. It was good to hear that they would drop the issue, but he partially hoped they would take his offer of abandoning him. It would’ve saved him from having to sever the bond himself.

Frost asked if one of them could ask the cleric if he was fit to leave. She scared him too much to do it himself. Azeroth pondered whether he could keep the bucket he used to bathe himself. Contrary to what Vedek had assumed, hygiene was very important to Azeroth.

It was pleasant to speak to them like this. The three of them no longer spoke like strangers curious to the other’s nature like that first journey to Ramuf. It was moments like this that Vedek felt that Bréag and Vedek were two different people. He could delay telling them till after the banquet tomorrow.

The rest of the day progressed smoothly. Fellior and Odile visited Frost, though Frost was far more interested in their imposing guardian. Frost compared her to a Ptesan, the breed of wecher that took their features from bison. Onakie denied any relation. Fellior thanked Frost for rescuing his daughter. When he called Frost a “hero” the wecher’s eyes lit like an autumn lantern.

While those two were engaged, Odile pulled Vedek aside to confide what she had found from Kelmin’s study. Kelmin’s correspondence were all in New Quetzal, a language Odile regretfully admitted that she could not read yet. Vedek comforted her by explaining that all Elden Fae have difficulty with languages. Odile saw this as a handicap she would study harder to overcome. All wasn’t lost in her investigation. While she was captured, Fellior received regular letters demanding new payment to keep her alive. Odile claimed the handwriting of the ransom letters and Kelmin’s letters were too similar to be coincidence. She would present her suspicions to her father that evening.

Vedek still wasn’t convinced that Kelmin’s was behind Odile’s capture, but she certainly believed it and was willing to go to any length to prove it. Despite her lack of evidence, Odile believed she had to put pressure to Kelmin before he had time to prepare countermeasures. She could only confide in Onakie, Azeroth, and Vedek. To prove her point she told them to look out the window. Sure to her word, Kelmin stood on the wall at the opposite end of the courtyard, watching the infirmary like a predator.

Vedek forced the matter from his mind and set to drafting a letter to send to Fae’Riam. He had decided he would send it to one of the Grand Ranger Lodges. The rangers of Fae’Riam had many functions, but one of those duties was to rally under the rightful king in times of upheaval. Vedek prayed it was the right decision as he ascended to the aviary tower. He arrived just as one of the hawks did. It was the one he had seen leave this morning with the blue and white ribbon. It had a new letter tied around its ankle.

The handler on duty carefully took the bird, which jumped at his touch. “Poor thing is stressed and exhausted. Whoever it went to this morning must’ve sent it back with no time to rest.”

“Seems cruel.” Vedek agreed. “What correspondence could be so important?”

His answer came in the form of a small cough behind him. Kelmin was there. He narrowed his eyes at Vedek. Vedek didn’t want to linger in the same room as Kelmin and expedited the process of passing his letter to the handler along with the request of where it was to be delivered. The Summer Grand Lodge was close to the Athshin border. It would take a week for the hawk to reach it. To make such a journey the handler had to use arcana to enchant the hawk. A spell was also instrumental to imprinting the destination on the bird’s mind. Vedek didn’t know how other nations progressed without everyday arcana like the Fae.

Kelmin was too anxious about receiving his letter. So much to the point that Vedek felt Odile’s paranoia infecting him. He decided to only go far enough down the spiral staircase that he was out of Kelmin’s sight and mind. Kelmin didn’t wait long to open his letter. Vedek could hear his stuttered breaths between unfurling the message.

The letter could not have taken long to read for Vedek heard him plainly say “If that is how it must be…” with intense resolve.

Vedek avoided Kelmin for the rest of the afternoon.