Rune and Ruin

6 - Broken Promise

391 B.C. - City of Caere, Coast of the Tasurian Peninsula, Spring, Month of Maius

Falx

I roll my head around my shoulders, feeling the cracking and wishing I could crawl back into Thania's soft bed. It's been such an incredibly long day, and despite my demon's protest, I missed the cena with my priestess today. He snarls silently at me, his open maw glistening with saliva and teeth. I ignore him. Thania is well-guarded, going about her duties. I will see her tonight.

Squaring my shoulders I open the door to the villa I had claimed for its gardens, thinking Thania would like them. It swings open to reveal a thin shaper, with yellow bird eyes gleaming above with a long handlebar mustache and pointed nose, which turned up in the air immediately upon seeing the Tasuri Warlord on the doorstep. Circen never did like me. Marcella had been his favorite.

"The mistress is in her rooms, sir, if you would wait in the dining room." Circen turns and strides stiffly down the hall, his back ramrod straight and radiating disapproval. More than usual, I note, wondering idly what has the shaper's guts in a twist.

Entering the dining room I feel reluctantly impressed at how quickly the home has been changed from the ornate style of the wealthy Caere cityfolk to the more austere tastes of its new owner. The wealthy family was only allowed to take a fraction of their luxury goods with them. The rest must be in storage.

Scowling out toward the gardens, I wonder what is keeping her. She was eager enough to come to Caere when the dust of my march had hardly settled.

"Darling!"

I turn and offer her a brittle smile. "Mother."

"Wonderful of you to finally come by and see me. I arrived hours ago." The weight of her sarcasm falls on my ears as well as the snort of agreement from the shaper in the corner.

"I am busy, mother, you know that," I sigh as I return her stiff embrace.

"Yes, well, I have heard of how very busy you are, dear. When it became clear that you were too busy to come here to greet me properly, I had Circen poke around a bit. And do you know what I was told?" Mother's eyes turn red-rimmed, filling with tears as her demon expresses both frustration and hurt. "My son, the Warlord of Rune, was most likely at some Acerian temple." She folds her arms over her chest and glares at me. "Now, I very seriously doubt that you suddenly became devout, so I had Circen ask. And there is... there is a woman. An Acera woman. Who is she, Falx?" Mother's lower lip trembles, betraying how upset she is.

Guilt scores my spine, but it's quickly chased away by the light comfort of my bond with Thania. She is happy, right now, but sleepy. She will go to bed soon, and I can only hope to assuage my mother's hurt quickly, so I can join my priestess.

I copy my mother's pose. "She isn't any concern of yours, mother. Now, are you well? I see you have settled in nicely."

"Don't think that you can change the subject with me. Now that you have secured Caere it is expected that you marry and have a family! Don't growl at me, Falx, honestly. The worship of Arthe is barely one step above prostitution..." His mother stops speaking abruptly as she sees my skin darkening with scales, my fangs elongating, my horns peeking free. I pull my demon back as much as I can, his eyes glowing red.

"Arthe and her priestess are to be respected as much as Sylen or Dyen, Mother." I snap my mouth shut. To say too much would be a mistake. My mother eyes me, her only son, her only living child. I had barely seen her these last six years of the campaign and had only just gone through my first adult molt when I left, but I know that my mother is a wily, cunning woman. Namilee Fyrrin wouldn't be the wife of a Dictator of Rune and the mother of Rune's Warlord and not be.