Discordant Note: Crescendo | TBATE

Chapter 173: A Piece of the Puzzle

Seris Vritra

I sipped at my tea, the autumn flavors caressing my throat as the slightly-bitter aftertaste lingered. The greenish liquid remained pristine as Lake Boolan on the outskirts of Etril as I set the cup down on my table.

The breeze from the Vritra's Maw Sea sifted through the open doors, bringing the scent of salt and the cries of gulls. But now, a lingering wafting smoke from the steaming stacks of Alacrya's ironclads also brushed my nose.

I found myself drifting far, far back in time to the old Redfeud War. The last time I had truly participated in a war, I'd been a brutal tactician. An unrestrained force that shifted and bled men without a single care. And I had enjoyed it, too. The feeling of fresh, warm blood trailing down my skin as the light left my enemy's eyes.

I felt my hands tense along my teacup. So close to shattering the thin porcelain.

Will I become that woman again? I wondered to myself, looking at the pristine liquid tea as it slowly cooled. Can I trust myself to keep in check?

"Will Spellsong be brought into your plans soon? Your true plans?" Cylrit asked from nearby.

I looked up, dismissing thoughts of the war from my mind. I took in my Retainer's appearance: his stalwart posture, severe expression, and unwavering will.

I exhaled a slight sigh, feeling bolstered by the presence of my closest aide. The sharp lines of his face stood starkly as the greatest reminder of what I feared.

I would remain true to my goals.

"Why do you ask, Cylrit?" I finally prodded. Cylrit would be going to Dicathen today, and I would follow not long after.

Cylrit shifted slightly. "You have been... open with him. You have been less subtle with Spellsong than most."

I watched the table in front of me. Not a day past, Toren Daen had agreed to my position for him within the war. And Cylrit was right: I'd been growing less and less cautious with my intentions and plans around the Named Blood man. I still allowed my words to have an air of plausible deniability, but I was sure Toren had picked up on some of my intentions.

Even in my own thoughts, I did not voice my true intentions, for I could not trust those to be masked from the High Sovereign himself.

I should not be so open with Toren, I thought absently. I have been planting seeds and laying groundwork for decades, and am prepared to do so for decades more. For me to be so open now is... unlike me.

I liked to tell myself that I was simply playing another part when I teased Toren; when I granted him insight into who I was and how I thought. I was just wearing another mask to ensure his loyalty. When I really tried, I could almost deceive myself into believing so as well.

Unfortunately, I was not one to allow falsehoods to cloud my vision–especially those I laid myself. That was how the Vritra operated: they repeated something so often that you grew to believe it. I could prod at Toren Daen all I wanted, watching his reactions and gauging his responses, but I knew my teasing was not ultimately sourced in a well-developed plan.

Toren had that effect on me; drawing my innermost secrets and self to the surface. And hopefully, he'd have that effect on the dwarves as well. Maybe, in a distant future, on the elves and humans, too.

"No, I will not," I answered. "I am still many, many years away from my goals, and every person who knows raises the chance of their failure exponentially." I took a liberal sip of my tea, feeling disappointed as the warmth left the beverage. "Though I suspect he shall be among the first to know. He has become... more important to my plans than I initially anticipated."