It was early morning. Durran stood near a large bush covered in black flowers. Though he noticed the blooms, his interest seemed to be focused on how they grew and how they were planted above anything else. He toyed with the leaves, almost testing them. He was so absorbed in the task that he could not hear someone moving towards him.
“Durran, yes?” Elenore asked, her chair coming to halt.
He jumped slightly, but then rose up to his feet. “Yeah, that’s me. Just enjoying the… the fragrance of this place. Never been anywhere like here, before. It’s a bit sparse in terms of flora where I lived, not sure if you know…”
“I see,” Elenore nodded. She was much more decorated than she had been yesterday, having donned much of the bronze jewelry Argrave had brought her—necklaces, bracelets, earrings, even more of the ungainly claw rings. “The Burnt Desert. A long way from home. A long way to travel,” she said, a question hidden on her tone.
Durran stared at her empty sockets for a long while. “It is. He’s not paying me, either. I’m either quite the sucker… or Argrave’s maybe got something special to him.” Durran laughed quietly. “Gods, even that silent giant Galamon got paid. At least Anneliese is getting some nightly… well, let’s not get graphic.”
Elenore exhaled from her nose—not quite a laugh, but near it. “I noticed you don’t like to do that.”
“What’s that mean?” Durran scratched the back of his head.
“You refrain from talking about what you see near me,” Elenore continued.
Durran shifted on his feet. “Well… it’s a bit distasteful, I think. Hey, I can see all this cool stuff! Wow, it’s so beautiful!” Durran waved his hands about. “Like I was telling Argrave, I think that was the point of this place. Every time someone visits you, they talk about this place’s beauty. Like a constant reminder of what you’re missing.”
“Maybe,” Elenore nodded.
“Your dad’s a real sack of shit,” Durran looked up to the glass above.
Elenore tilted her head but did not disagree. “Why would you think I would not like to hear I am surrounded by beauty?”
Durran stared at her face. “Surrounded by it, huh?” He laughed and scratched his chin. “Well… suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. You can see things again, if I’m understanding Argrave right.”
“I can perceive things, especially if I touch them,” Elenore said. “But… yes, I have a rough awareness of the space around me, now. If I had my prosthetics, I suspect I could walk without bumping into anything. But they hurt if I wear them too long. I don’t wear them often.”
Durran put his hand on his armor’s belt, staring at her missing feet with consideration. “You know… Argrave’s said he’s going to help me regrow my fingers.”
Silence reigned for a moment, and then she asked, “Do you believe him?”
“You’re supposed to be the master of an information network. You tell me,” Durran pointed to her with his hand missing three fingers. “You’ve heard of what he’s done. You know what he’s capable of. I get some skepticism, but… good gods, we’ve got a silver platter and you’re still testing the meal for poison. Argrave is being honest with you—this is an earth-shattering event.”
Elenore placed her hands on her lap. “I hope you can appreciate it might be difficult to trust when someone I thought loved me sawed my feet off. He stared me in the face as he gouged out my eyes so that his visage was the last thing I beheld.”
Durran stood still for a time, digesting her point and debating whether or not to say something. “Well, I knew a guy that had no arms or legs. Had to be carried everywhere. His son did that to him,” Durran emphasized the last part in comparison. “He started off just like you—skeptical of everything, everyone.” Durran shook his head. “Key phrase there is ‘knew a guy.’ He couldn’t trust anyone until the end. Now, he’s dead. Just a memory in my head. I don’t want to see history repeating itself.”
Elenore kept her face towards him, silent. Durran didn’t have Anneliese’s ability, but he thought she was a bit stunned. Eventually, she pursed her lips and said, “Every conversation I share, I am the weaker party. I am always the lesser, and the lesser is discarded without fail. I act this way because I must.”
Durran shook his head. “You did. That’s changed.” He let out a long, piteous sigh. “I’ll admit—what you’ve built from your position? It’s incredible. I don’t think anyone else could have done it. All you had starting off was a few servants loyal to your father first, and your word. Shoddy tools for building anything… but you’ve built an empire. What now? Stand on your tower alone? Sounds… empty,” Durran shrugged.
“I—” Elenore began, her voice with more inflection that it usually had. She turned her head off to the side. “It seems I share too much. Argrave gave good advice to sleep tonight, and it seems I ignored it. I should retire. Forgive me.”
“You’re apologizing?” Durran furrowed his brows, confused. “Well, I don’t accept your apology. Consider yourself unforgiven. Own who you are. Decide if that’s who you want to be,” he pointed to her.
Elenore did not respond, her head still facing off to the side.
Durran clicked his tongue and shifted on his feet. “I should get back. You want me to roll you somewhere before I go?”
“If you wish,” she answered vaguely.
“Oh, yeah, I’m jumping for joy,” Durran laughed. “Do I want to help you? No. You have to want it. That’s another lesson I learned, at a little place called Sethia.” Durran laughed again and shook his head. “I’ll leave you be. Get some rest, if you want.”
Durran moved away in a brisk pace. Elenore remained in place, listening to him leave. After a while, she let out another light laugh through her a nose, a little stronger this time.
#####
“I trust you’re familiar with a group called the Rancor?” Argrave questioned Elenore, feeling rejuvenated after a good sleep.
They sat together in a more secluded place than they had yesterday—instead of in the main courtyard, they were in Elenore’s room sitting around a table. The place was just a large undecorated bed and table in a veritable gardener’s shed. Elenore had foregone the presence of servants, perhaps to better hide Argrave’s presence. Galamon stood at the doorway, monitoring the outside.
“Certainly,” Elenore nodded. She had donned most of the bronze pieces that Argrave had gave her. The bronze clashed with her obsidian hair but matched well with the green she usually donned. “We have some ties. They’re smugglers, mostly, but a general criminal syndicate here in the capital. Why? Are they the source of this traitor you mentioned?”
Argrave shook his head. Anneliese noticed something on a stand in the corner of the room and stood from her seat, moving to examine it. Argrave followed Anneliese with his gaze as he answered Elenore, “Not likely, no. Maybe I’d best pass on the message directly. ‘The Bat cannot hear everything, especially not that hiding in its own fur,’” Argrave repeated Ingo’s warning. “A little warning from a friend.”
“Prophecy,” Elenore noted. Behind her, Anneliese fiddled with a white apparatus that looked to handle water.
“You can think of it like that,” Argrave nodded, furrowing his brows as he watched Anneliese. “Be careful. I know you’re good at what you do, but working with scummy people tends to be challenging,” Argrave said, thinking of the journey with the two Magisters. “Even if you think I’m just a nut, better safe than sorry.”
“This brews tea,” Anneliese said in revelation.
Argrave smiled. “Anne…”
“Forgive me,” she set it down. “It just drew my attention.”
Argrave was surprised by her uncharacteristic absent-mindedness. They had discussed the meeting with Elenore in great detail this morning, and both felt things were going well. At the very least, they were going according to plan. Even still, she usually did not lose herself to fancy as she had in months prior. This was the first time in a long while.
“She’s fine,” Elenore held up her hand, the bronze bangle on her wrist clinking about. “I’ll limit visits from non-essential personnel, have people watch key entrances,” she decided. “It is as you say. I cannot be too cautious.”
“You can be too cautious,” contributed Durran. Argrave looked at him, puzzled, but saw Elenore smile faintly and decided to drop it.
“The upper echelon of Rancor,” Argrave brought the topic back to the matter at hand. “Noticed any incongruities?”
Elenore shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“You should doublecheck that,” Argrave tapped the table. “Get some of your best guys on it. I think you’ll be surprised by what you find… and once you find it, we can proceed from there.”
Elenore nodded. “Alright. If I find nothing?”
“I don’t know. Point and laugh at me, throw me out,” Argrave shrugged, running out of ways to say that he wouldn’t be wrong.
Elenore retrieved some paper and a writing implement and wrote things down. The lines were sloppy, but legible. A smile came to his face as he watched her write—it felt fulfilling.
“And what will you do?” she questioned, setting her implement aside.
“Well…” Argrave leaned in a bit closer. “What have you heard?”
Elenore’s lips twitched as she debated what to say. Eventually, she decided. “Build your own army. A better one.”
“Yep,” Argrave lightly slapped the table and rose. “Lot of untapped forces in the north. I need to tap them. And I think I can. Anneliese and I will work things out.”
“Like Veiden?” her head turned to Anneliese, eyeless sockets dark.
Argrave laughed. “Oh yeah. And the Burnt Desert, too. Got an army of wyvern-riding tribals.” He shook his head. “Just a bunch of people who want something. Some people have power but want prestige. Others, the inverse. Speak the right words, the north folds. Doubly so if rumors of Felipe’s spreading the plague to the south gets out.”
“The self-governing city,” Elenore turned her head back to Argrave. “The merchant oligarchs.”
Argrave furrowed his brows but smiled. “You’re pretty smart.” Argrave tapped the chair a few times, then said, “Thanks for your hospitality. Send for me anytime you want to talk further.”
“Wait,” Elenore said as Argrave made to leave, the others rising to follow. Argrave paused and looked back—Elenore looked flustered, like she hadn’t intended to say ‘wait.’
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, sure,” Argrave accepted it easily.
“For what?” Durran pressed sternly. Argrave looked at him, perplexed.
“For… these,” Elenore gestured to the claw rings over her fingers. “I… have never received anything that…” She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. “I like it very much,” she said quickly.
“Well, that was the hope. Kind of why I got it,” Argrave nodded. “Enjoy. You deserve it.”
