“Things were as you claimed,” Elenore told Argrave, her hands entwined as they laid across the table before her. In the past few days, she had integrated the bronze jewelry into her movements, and now already had a practiced grace even with the ungainly objects on her fingers and wrists.
“I see,” Argrave said nonchalantly, smiling at Anneliese as she filled his cup with tea.
“Rancor is heavily involved in human trafficking. Captured victims never left the city, though, so it was difficult to monitor. On top of that, they were the primary exporters of a vicious alchemical drug. These were both matters I was looking into already… they were attracting undue attention from authorities, disrupting things.” Elenore tapped her fingers against the table. “Yet you gave me their source directly. Rancor is being dealt with as we speak, with Ruleo heading things per your recommendation. I appreciate you placing him in debt to me. Now, I’d like to know why you asked me to clear my schedule today.”
Argrave sipped the tea at once, savoring the warmth in the cold winter morning. He never liked fruity teas like this one, but the warmth itself was nice. “I think Durran told you,” he said as he set the cup down, staring Elenore in the face.
“I will speak to someone old,” Elenore nodded. “As though that explains anything at all.”
“Not just that,” Durran chimed in. “Someone only you two can communicate with,” his fingers waved between the two of them.
Argrave placed his elbows on the table as he leaned in. “Vasquer. What do you actually know about her?”
Elenore frowned. “Don’t launch into a story to defle—”
“The snake, not the kingdom,” Argrave held his hand out to interrupt. “She fought alongside Felipe I. Why? For what purpose? What happened afterwards? It’s just a hole in the histories.”
Elenore’s brows rose, and she took a deep breath. “You mean to say with these allusions… Rancor houses Vasquer itself?”
“Yes,” Argrave nodded. “The majority of its upper-echelon members captured her, once. They’re vampires. A very old coven. Once your men deal with them, we’re going to talk to her. You’re going to get some answers. I’m going to confirm what I already know to be true.”
Elenore looked greatly disturbed. She turned her head to the side, then faced him again with conviction. “What happened to you?”
“Me?” Argrave placed his hands to his chest.
“Livia. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Caught off-guard by the non-sequitur, Argrave ran the name through his memory.
Elenore laughed as Argrave stayed silent. “That’s your mother’s name you’re struggling to remember. Or Argrave’s mother’s name, at least.”
Argrave frowned. He did recognize the name now, but it was too late—the milk had been spilled. Trying to salvage it, he said calmly, “She died when I was young.”
“Eight. She died when you were eight. You’re twenty, perhaps twenty-one now,” Elenore told him. “I’ve been looking into you, Argrave. People knew you here in Dirracha. But no one knows the person I speak to now,” she shook her head. “The profile is entirely different. Your character does not match.”
Argrave remained steadfast. “People change,” he suggested. “I was at the Order of the Gray Owl for two years.”
“Your heart is unnatural. Your eyes… I’ve observed Ruleo’s necromantic creations last he was here. Their eyes have the same color,” Elenore listed out. “Now you come to me with these unnatural knowings… you slip into the heart of this place without being challenged and tell me the secrets of Rancor as though you are a part of it.”
Argrave shook his head. “These are far-fetched conclusions, Elenore.”
“My logic is sound,” she disagreed. “What is your game? What do you want from me?” she asked, voice trembling slightly.
Durran leaned in and said firmly, “We’ve told you from the beginning. Argrave wants you as an ally.”
“You give me vague warnings to build my trust… treat me kindly to curry favor… reveal secrets to establish usefulness and reliability… I cannot afford to trust it. Gifts are the most expensive things,” she shook her head.
Argrave took a deep breath. “Elenore, we’re on the verge of putting all the obfuscation to bed. I just need you to follow along a little longer. After, I can divulge everything. I fear you won’t believe me if I tell you now.”
Elenore rose—she was wearing her prosthetic feet. “I appreciate your gift, Argrave, both of this jewelry and of Rancor’s activities. However, I think this will be the end of our association.”
Argrave felt battered by the volatile shift. “What?” he asked, though she was already moving to leave.
Galamon stood aside to let her pass. Argrave stared at the doorway in shock, trying to piece together a course of action.
Durran leaned back in the chair. “I wonder if she realizes she left her own bedroom,” he mused. “Wonder where she’ll go.”
Argrave looked to Anneliese for guidance. “She was scared. Terrified,” Anneliese told him.
Hearing that, Argrave could only rub his forehead in confusion. He feared chasing after her might exacerbate the issue—perhaps when she discovered Vasquer in Rancor’s base, she would come to him again. That might be his opportunity.
“Well, that’s enough for me.” Durran rose to his feet and grabbed Argrave’s shoulder. “Hey. This time, destroy a smaller tower,” he joked, then ran out of the room.
“What...?” Argrave began, but Durran had already left. “That...! Anneliese? Starsparrow,” he said, scrambling to his feet. He knocked over the wooden chair.
“My advice? Let him go,” Galamon contributed.
Argrave looked at Galamon. “Why in the world would I do that?”
Galamon stared at Argrave without any words to offer in answer. Flabbergasted, Argrave looked to Anneliese.
“I would agree,” Anneliese said after a second.
Argrave looked between the two of them, completely lost. Galamon picked up the fallen chair and corrected it, gesturing kindly for Argrave to sit.
#####
“Hey. Hey!” Durran shouted, rushing after Elenore.
The princess barely paused, turning her head from right to left with tightly clenched teeth. She stopped and turned. “Why do you follow me?!” she demanded.
“Why else?” Durran questioned, stepping slower and breathing heavily as he stopped his run. “To fix things.”
Elenore shook her head and turned, resuming walking down the path. Her prostheses clicked out in angry haste against the stone pathway. Durran rushed ahead of her.
“Come on. You don’t even know where you’re going, and you know it,” Durran insisted, holding his hands out.
Elenore scoffed and stopped fully now that she was blocked. “What would you know of me?”
“I know you’re scared. You’re not scared you’ll get hurt—well, not physically. You’re afraid of accepting anyone in, allowing yourself to be vulnerable,” Durran pointed to her.
Elenore laughed angrily. “Don’t speak such shallow, rehearsed lines intended to enchant some feisty barmaid with father issues. You speak to a person who was blind not days ago,” she said, temper flaring. “Have you any idea what that is like? Every person that comes before you leaves you vulnerable. You can hear them, smell them, feel them… but that does nothing for you.
“They could stab you, and you would have no opportunity to even see the attack coming. They could set your hair aflame, or hurl boiling water at you, or any number of terrible things you might concoct. I sat alone in the unending sightlessness, waiting for the world to do as it pleased to me. ‘Allowing myself to be vulnerable?’ My existence was vulnerability itself. I have courted it for over a decade now,” she finished, voice a tight whip.
Durran shifted on his feet. “Did people do those things to you, set your hair aflame, the like?”
“That-that’s beside the point,” Elenore waved her hand, bronze bracelets clattering against each other. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. I got where I am by avoiding ill portents like those that surround Argrave, if that even is his name.”
“Does anyone know what you’ve been through?” Durran questioned. “Other than yourself, I’m betting the answer is no.”
“You’re correct,” she said with a droll anger. “So step aside, and let me continue as I always have.”
“Blind in a greenhouse of beauty?” Durran snapped back. “I’m afraid it’s too late. You can’t go back. Like you said, gifts can be the most expensive things. The price is suffering our presence as we help each other.”
Elenore swallowed. Then, she reached for her fingers, prying free the bronze claw rings. She collected them in her hand, then removed the bracelets, the necklace, the earrings… each and all clattering to the floor.
“There,” she said. “I think that puts an end to things.”
Elenore walked forward, expecting to bump into Durran and push him aside. Instead, nothing was there. Perhaps he’d stepped aside, or perhaps she’d guessed wrong. She proceeded forth with unduly confident steps in blackness, trying her best to roughly maintain a straight line. Suddenly, a branch bumped her head and she ducked. Her prosthetic feet offered poor maneuverability, and she slid and fell. Her body turned in a manner she could not place, and before she knew it her legs were propped in the air by some bush and the back of her head was planted to the ground.
The princess struggled vainly to get up, but her position was quite awkward. After a time of struggle, a voice cut in. “You want some help?”
Elenore said nothing. She tried to feel out her surroundings, and once she had a decent feel for them, approached the task smartly. She grabbed a low-hanging branch and started to pull herself up… yet with a snap, all her effort was undone, and she came crashing back down.
“Do you want some help?” Durran asked again, tone dry.
“Yes, damn you,” Elenore finally said.
At once, she felt an arm wrap behind her waist and pull her up, propping her on her feet. She was dizzy and staggered a little, and before she knew it, Durran led her somewhere to sit.
Elenore sat in embarrassed silence, waiting for the speech to come. ‘See? Just like I said, you need to ask for help,’ Durran would say. She could predict the whole speech coming. ‘You cannot walk alone. Together, we can both walk forward, aiding the other. It’s what they do in the Burnt Desert, to keep each other from veering off course. There’s no shame in asking for help.’ She could not recall the last time she’d lost her composure so much. She felt ashamed, humiliated beyond measure.
“Here,” Durran said. “I picked them up.”
Elenore felt cold metal against her hand and grasped the claw ring once more. She didn’t want to put it on. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be dealing with this situation.
“Fine,” Durran said, taking it back. They sat in silence for a moment. Then, she heard a buckle unfasten, heard something fall to the floor, and tensed for what might be happening. “Woah. Good gods. This is a weird experience.”
Elenore turned her head but saw nothing as ever. “Are you… are you wearing it?”
“Yeah, I am.” He gasped. “It’s… gods, I can perceive my blood flowing through my hand. How the hell did you adapt to this so quickly?”
“Why are you wearing it?” she asked incredulously.
“Why am I not wearing it? You don’t want it,” Durran rebuked. “Huh. With my eyes closed, it’s… wow.”
Elenore turned her head to the side, listening as Durran rattled off his experiences with the relics. After a while, he just kept repeating, ‘wow.’ Something about the way he said it started to get to her. Finally, she laughed and fumbled out, ripping it from his finger after a brief struggle.
“You stole from me,” he said, wounded.
“I hate you,” she said, slipping the ring back on.
“I think you’re okay,” Durran retaliated. “Only okay, though.”
Elenore took some time to gather her composure and wash away the shame from that encounter. Finally, she turned and said, “Thank you for helping me.”
“Hey, alright,” he said nonchalantly. “Let’s talk hypotheticals for a minute, though. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, Argrave isn’t your brother, despite the fact he’s got the same freakishly tall body that most of you Vasquers have.”
Elenore took more of the discarded pieces of bronze out of Durran’s grasp. “Yes?” she pressed.
“Considering your family, shouldn’t that be a point in his favor?”
Elenore laughed and said nothing for a while after. As they settled into silence, Elenore asked, “Why do you follow him? Really?”
“He’s doing something important,” Durran said. “And my family disowned me. I… I don’t know.” Durran clicked his tongue. “Sometimes it feels like he’s my brother.”
Elenore watched Durran for a while. The distant look on his face was quite sincere. Yet then, Elenore heard rushed footsteps. She rose to attention, trying her best to fix her appearance.
“Princess Elenore!” a man she recognized shouted, coming to a stop while breathing heavily. “Thank the gods I found you… while we were storming Rancor’s headquarters… Ruleo discovered a gargantuan golden snake, still alive, and imprisoned. Rancor had been keeping it there. The thing is as thick as an elephant and miles long, my princess!”
Elenore clenched her hands into fists.
