The Sketch Rift: The Eternal Crusade

Ivel's Crusade

Soal and Irene had returned from the harbor of Sogbury and its twenty (or twenty-one?) Sulukridger inhabitants to stumble to the knolls surrounding Grant's Shrine, where the conflicted Crusade continued to gather as Ivel attempted to better his reputation once again following rumors of his forlorn past as a hierarchical Sulukridger. The nocturnal sky, however, exhibited few, if any, signals of such turmoil on the ground far beneath it. The same stellar clusters and ancient constellations visible when Moth explained the Great Five shone onward, the hazy band of stars that formed the outer regions of the galaxy streaking across the expanse. Irene had specifically designated this gentle, mossy slope their bed for the night, seeing as all of the makeshift hammocks on the Crusade's training ground were occupied. Soal was hesitant at first, doubtful of their security, but inevitably failed to resist as she managed to even pull in Alice (still distraught and without her daughter) to join them.

As any night within or near Hendera would, this one did not pass without an overtone of unease. The quaint monument, now a silhouette observed casting a faint shadow on the training grounds in the valley beside it, was hemmed in by a thick force of the Crusade's nightly wardens, forming a circle of harsh punishment should the Ambassador attempt an escape. Soal, half-asleep, considered Moth's ungratefulness towards his treatment as a side effect of this. Would Ivel not try to keep the Ambassador satisfied, so not to tempt his departure?

Alas, it occurred just as the thought struck his mind. Over his mother's snores and Irene's tossing and turning nearby, Soal gasped mildly enough to permit his sleepiness a continued reign as he watched brick-and-mortar walls supposedly materialize from thin air from the rear of Grant's Shrine. They twisted around the structure until screeching to a halt some distance from the Shrine, at which point the dimly lit tunnel abruptly transitioned into the evening air, beyond the reach of the nocturnal guards. It spat forth Moth, who scurried hastily through the valley, clearly trailed by the Crusaders themselves. However, his flight was cut short more suddenly than the end of his plot hole route, displaying no rebellion as they escorted him back into his prison, sealing the walls of his tunnel with a new round of soldiers.

*     *     *

"Would it accommodate Commander Ivel's standards if we temporarily visited the Formulator -- the Ambassador for a few minutes?" Irene eagerly inquired to the wall of guards who awaited their arrival before the gate to Moth's chamber of Grant's Shrine. "Privacy would suit our needs most." 

The innocent-faced gatekeepers glanced among one another, aware that the Ambassador may have been concocting more semi-mutiny if they were to meet in privacy. In moments, one of them responded with a gravelly voice, "There will be a single guard present within the general area of the room. Agreed?"

The Master Bringer that had arrived to conclude what they had seen last night nodded in unison, although rather skeptically, and as the sizeable doorway squeaked open into Moth's cell of sorts, littered with so many papery documents that one may have confused it with Peregrin Cliasin's refuge beyond the Perimeter, the other guards exited from view, leaving only a single weary one behind while Soal and Irene entered, shutting the entrance as they settled.

Moth had seemed to be in the midst of reading one of the "Kyueb Reacsoa's" letters to his faithful Ambassador -- which neither Soal or Irene dared to read, for good reason -- until the doors to his residence were completely sealed, upon which he near-instantly knocked the sole guard to the floor, rendering them effectively unconscious. "There's your privacy," he enunciated. "There's only one guard I really trust anymore, but they signed her off months ago on charges of treason. This is my life these days, if any of you had any intention of questioning me about it. It's just knocking out guards and exchanging friendly letters with the Kyeub Reacsoa. Friendly, of course, sometimes being an understatement."

"Yes, but whatever happened to you last night?" Soal raised his possibly overgrown eyebrow, if applicable in reality. "What was your goal? Retreat? Or a protest? Were you trying to read the stars again with the... cube something-or-other?"

"First of all, I write to the Kyueb Reacosa," Moth harrumphed, sinking to the unsanitary floor in defeat. "I hardly, if ever, read his constellations. But enough of that. You're asking why I threw myself from the Shrine last night... again?"

"You've done this before?" Irene examined his speech. "Enough times to create a ring of Crusaders around your current location at all times?"

"Far more than enough," Moth lamented, reaching his feet again and pacing between the walls of his cell of confinement in a very Ivel-like manner. "In fact, you may not have noticed this to its entirety, but Ivel is aware that I don't like how he treats me. He feeds me just enough food and serves me just enough water to get by, and it isn't helping. He stuffs me in uncomfortable cells that were designed by Fviron architects, and starves me of sunlight and general hope for days, even weeks, at a time, pretending that all is well in the Crusade. And it gets worse than that."

"Worse?!" both members of the Master Bringer mouthed in horror, both plainly aware of Moth's consistently empty stomach and his incurable dissatisfaction with the hideous conditions that Ivel granted him. From their knowledge, Kurst was much more forgiving. All they could do now was listen to the Ambassador's grievances.

"Well..." Moth's eyes darted around the room as he confided with his old companions, "do you wish to know why the Crusade is always chasing me around these coastal hills? Or why they never seem to understand the healthful standards of an Ambassador like me? Or the reason for Ivel's ravenousness in ensuring I never leave his sight?"

"For your protection?" Soal stammered, ever-curious, but now entering uncharted territory with his analysis.

"No, no, no; that's not what Ivel's Crusade is all about," Moth's secrecy was favored so, he compelled himself to whisper individually into each of his listeners' ears. "Kurst's Crusade was built with one goal in mind: the protection and well-being of the Ambassador. But Ivel built his Crusade with a very different promise: for my assassination."