ARIDEN SARETHOL IS A LIAR. Upon witnessing a hostile organization try to take control of a family heirloom, he must enact a dangerous plan that may get him and his friends thrown to prison, or worse, killed. As the veils of false peace slowly fall a...
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2412 Crescin 05, Reshpe
A sharp glint reflected off the small stone in its brief flight before Ariden caught it in his palm. He frowned at it despite it not doing anything worthy of his ire. Without much to do, he tossed it into the air once more, letting it hover before the earth's pull plunged it back to his waiting hand. It's the least he could do to amuse himself, standing in the shadow of the meeting hall's doors.
Every once in a while, he would peer at the emissary having an audience with his father, the Earth Potentate. Said emissary was tall, with dark hair pinned up in a rigid bun and a bland, black dress. She stood in front of the most powerful man in Avalora and his court, twiddling her thumbs and rocking at her heels—a complete contrast to the previous emissary who captivated the entire room just by being there.
Ariden wasn't one to hand out his respect to agents of vile organizations, but he'd gladly offer it to that blond emissary, Marin Draswist.
Ralei claimed Ariden shouldn't make a habit out of being in places he wasn't meant to be in, and that it would someday be his rue, but who was Ariden save for a total madman and a fool too daring for his own good?
It's a vice, more than the oshella sticks he kept in the stitched pocket of his pilzai—one he wished he could light but couldn't. The Palace was hardly the right place to burn leaves. Maybe the Temple would be a better alternative.
But, if not for Ariden setting up camp outside the meeting hall whenever black-clad people sauntered in from the front gate, he wouldn't have known about these juicy details and even juicier conspiracies.
The first of these instances happened by accident, with him staying back from a previous meeting about the recent failed apprehension of a group of thieves known as the Cutlasses. Then, a child no older than twelve, sashayed in and demanded Avalora to a treaty that would put some vague idea of a person in complete control of the military affairs. Or at least, that's how it sounded like to him. That girl made it sound like an ominous trading agreement, with the commodities being the army, their weapons, and Avalora's sovereignty.
He peeled out of that audience when his father agreed to lending a fraction of the army to the child's cause. What's the use of spending resources—needed ones, might he add—and aiding a stranger and an unknown cause just because? It's idiotic, and with Ariden wisely staying out of politics and any territorial affairs outside the Cutlasses and the underground market concerning Avalora's products, he couldn't march up to his father and pronounce his statement.
But he couldn't be the only one who thought the same thing, right? The Potentate court has that many heads. At least one could have sensed something from the girl's argument, right? Wrong. Every single meeting, when the blond emissary went back to ask for amendments to the document she and the Potentate drew up, the advisers believed her words more. Within a few weeks, they treated her word like law.
It's impossible without magic, truly, but when Ariden snooped inside for a trace of perception-altering magic inside the hall, he found none.
So, he went to do the work he did best. Putting Ralei and Tria to work, they used their espionage connections and influence in the army to arrive at something usable. All he got was a name and a connection. The blond emissary child was Marin Draswist, daughter of a deceased human named Jarvik Draswist. Reports say she was from Cardina and had a little brother who was currently missing.
