• Closed • Replacement Duke

[Tristan Venora]

Cylus 20, Arc 718

On some level Tristan knew that what he was about to do was questionable at best and against the law at worst, but he was tired of it all, and he had lost his faith, and he didn’t like the law particularly anyway. Ilaren, the Immortal woman he had wanted to marry, had betrayed him. His cousin Alistair who had been supposed to become duke one trial had run away with the mad Becomer who had attacked the king. His cousin Pythera and her bandits were killing innocents. The king’s people were killing innocents. A lot of people seemed to be killing innocents these trials. Sometimes he had the feeling that he was the only politician in Rynmere who didn’t condone murder.

He had been so excited when the king had given him a duchy, but after an arc he simply felt tired and disillusioned. He was an artist, not a politician, and even though he had learned a lot since he had moved to the Eastern Settlement he felt woefully inadequate sometimes. He was not used to that. He had never felt inadequate before, and he didn’t like it and just wanted it to go away again. He needed a vacation. He needed to leave for a while in order to maintain his sanity and because he needed time to think. That was where his brother would come in. He just hoped that Hart would agree to help him because it was the only way out that he could see and because it would be hilarious!

Since Tristan didn’t know where exactly Hart lived at the moment he wrote a letter and had his bodyguard Lianne look for him. He did of course not write what exactly he wanted from Hart – it would have disastrous consequences for both of them if the letter got into the wrong hands – he just told him that he really needed to see him and that he wanted him to visit him in his house in Andaris. He knew the address. It was the house where they had once pretended to be each other and really confused poor Faith.

When Hart arrived, he would find himself facing a man that was in an extraordinary good mood. Since he had come up with his great plan, Tristan had been excited and optimistic rather than tired and hopeless, and it was showing. He had combed his hair (he hadn’t done that the trial before), he was dressed in an expensive and very fashionable blue suit, and there was a huge smile on his face. “Hart! It’s good to see you again! How have you been? I hope your problems with the RCA are over!” he exclaimed. “Please come in. I have wine and food, in case you want to eat or drink something while we talk. There’s something that I really want to ask you!”

He gestured for his brother to follow him into his living room where his daughter Ayla, who was only an arc old but looked like she was almost three, sat on the carpet and played with one of her dolls. It was a cute doll in a yellow dress, and it had three eyes and a fluffy tail. The little girl looked up – and stared at Hart in confusion because she didn’t understand what had just happened. Tristan laughed, lifted her up and explained, “That’s your uncle, Hart! You know him!” before he sat her down again and turned to face his brother once more.

He filled two glasses with his favourite wine, Venora Rose, and handed one of them to Hart before he abruptly asked him, smirking as he did so, “How would you like to play duke for a season or so?”

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"

The letter found Hart by way of the House of Roses.

As it turned out, inquiring at a brothel was usually the quickest way to dig up information on someone. Or, in this case, to get a message delivered.

When it came down to it, Hart was not all that hard to find. Lianne asked a passerby who directed her to Waterstreet. Waterstreet directed her to the Madame of the House of Roses. The Madame asked one of her girls where Hart was staying, and though she didn't know she asked a customer, who then sent a runner to ask his buddy. The customer's buddy asked his buddy, who had happened to drink with Hart the trial before and who didn't know where he lived but knew, at least, where Hart should be.

Indeed, the runner from the House of Roses caught up to Hart near the main gate to the city. Hart took the letter he was handed, read it, and tipped the runner --a street kid-- some coin. Then he waved to the people he'd been with and made his way to Tristan's house.

When Tristan opened the door, perhaps Hart would surprise his noble brother by pulling him into a hug. He hadn't seen Tristan in a long time and he couldn't help it, he was glad to see him. "Tristan!" Hart said, letting him go and looking the other over, "It's good to see you too." He grinned back. "I'm fine, of course, but how are you?"

As he stepped inside he stomped his boots to get any snow off them, then unwrapped the scarf from his neck. He pulled knit gloves off and stuffed them into the messenger bag he was carrying. "The RCA," he said once the door was closed, and shrugged. "I haven't had contact with them since, well, it must have been Saun." It had been the king's wedding, in fact, and Hart considered that Tristan might want to know about that.

But first he said, "What did you want to ask me?"

They stepped further into the house and, when Hart saw Ayla, he paused in the doorway to the living room, just as surprised by how she looked as she was by him. "Tristan?" he asked, uncertain, but he knew that she was the same girl. She was Faith with Tristan's eyes. He tried to do some math in his head as to how old Ayla was and how long it had been since he'd last seen her.

It wasn't adding up.

Despite his surprise, Hart said, "Hi Ayla," and though Tristan had already introduced him, "I'm Hart. I don't know if you remember me. I like your doll--" He noticed its eyes and tail and smiled at her. "Is she a friend of Mistral's?"

Though he wanted to go to Ayla, not having seen her in so long, Hart took the wine Tristan handed him and wandered over to the table to sit instead. He didn't want to overwhelm the little girl, didn't want to crowd her if she didn't know him. He took a seat and, leaning forward, propped an elbow on the table with his chin in his hand. Taking a sip of wine, he then nearly spat the wine out at what Tristan asked him.

Duke? he thought, trying to reorient, not having expected this at all.

"Tristan, what?" he said. He peered over at his brother. He thought Tristan seemed serious despite --or perhaps because of-- the smirk he currently wore.

"I know I've pretended to be you before--" Once with Faith, and perhaps once at a party a long time back, though that had only been to get in. And certainly people had mistakenly thought he was Tristan. They looked alike. "But as duke?" he asked, sort of incredulous, though also sort of amused by the proposition. "Why would you want me to pretend to be you for a full season? And where would you be?"

[Tristan Venora]

“I’ve been rather depressed lately“, Tristan admitted. “I had no idea that I would be so good at it! I always thought that I had absolutely no talent for depression! I’m glad that Lianne managed to find you because you are the only one in all of Idalos that might be able to help me and make it go away again. I’m usually all for trying out new things, but being depressed doesn’t feel good at all.” He shuddered and took a sip from his glass while he watched his brother greet Ayla who still looked rather confused. She didn’t say anything as Hart asked her about her doll, but just hugged it tightly and looked from Hart to Tristan and back before she tentatively asked, “Daddy?”

“She probably thinks that she’s seeing double”, he remarked and laughed, and then he explained because he had noticed the look on Hart’s face, Ayla’s a very special little girl. I found out that Faith isn’t her mother after all. Faith didn’t die either. She’s alive and lives on Scalvoris with her husband and her new babies now, and Ayla’s real mother …” He stopped abruptly, looked at Hart and shook his head. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything that had happened since that fateful trial the arc before when Faith’s doppelganger had suddenly shown up with a new-born baby in her arms. He needed to talk to somebody about what was bothering him. If he trusted Hart with the duchy, he should be able to trust him with his daughter’s secret as well, but …

… he just couldn’t do it. He didn’t want Hart to look at Ayla strangely and wonder whether she would turn into an evil monster, like her mother, and try to kill them all. He didn’t want him to treat her any differently. She was just a little girl and she deserved to live a normal life. The happiness and optimism that he had felt when Hart had walked in, disappeared again abruptly. He was a little overwhelmed. There were so many things that were going wrong right now, and he didn’t know what to do about them!

“Because I need to get away from everything for a while and clear my head, and the king probably won’t just let me take a break”, he replied as Hart asked him why, picked Ayla up again and sat her on his lap. “I don’t like what’s been happening in the kingdom recently, and I don’t agree with any of it. King Cassander’s men are burning mages alive – mages that were initiated when magic was still legal – and my crazy cousin and her bandits are murdering people left and right."

“I just want everybody to get along again, but I don’t know how to make that happen. And then there’s Ayla. I worry about her, Hart! Faith invited me to visit her on Scalvoris, and I decided to accept her invitation. Maybe she’ll be able to help me because I don’t know what to do anymore.” He was talking very quickly, and then he suddenly stopped and looked at Hart. He’d realized that maybe he shouldn’t have criticized Cassander’s new law quite so openly, but what was done was done, besides this was Hart. He couldn’t possibly consider killing mages a good idea, could he?

“I won’t throw you in at the deep end of course”, he assured him and smiled mischievously – his good mood had just returned – as he removed two scrolls of parchment from a nearby cupboard and handed one of them to Hart. Those that were in charge of the kingdom would most likely – no, definitely! – disapprove of what he did, but he didn’t really care about them anymore. Besides, he knew Hart. He had heard him talk to his employees, back when he had lived in Oakleigh for a while. He was intelligent. He possessed a lot of common sense which was something that most people didn’t.

It was possible that he would eventually do a better job than him!

“These are Echo Scrolls. They will allow us to communicate in real-time. If you write something on your scroll, I’ll immediately see the words on mine. So if you have a problem, we’ll be able to talk about it and hopefully work something out!”

“Don’t tell anybody, but I’m pretty sure that they are magical!”

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"

Ayla didn't remember him and Tristan was unhappy. It seemed that Tristan had been unhappy for some time.

Hart couldn't help feeling he'd missed so much; he couldn't help feeling he'd been away too long.

These last couple of seasons, Hart had lived, in a way, on the run. After all that had happened in Saun, he just hadn't felt safe staying in one place too long. He'd fled the king's wedding and made himself scarce so the RCA couldn't contact him. But that had meant distancing himself from family and friends, too.

He just... didn't know what else he could have done. He hadn't trusted the authorities to help him; he'd thought he'd do better on his own. He had sacrificed a lot for his safety, and now he wondered if that was wrong. Ayla would have remembered him if he had gone back to live in Oakleigh. Would Tristan have been happier? Would he himself have been happy?

He didn't know.

Ayla still looked confused by the two of them, so Hart looked to her and said, "I look a lot like your dad, huh?

"Very like him," he said, considering that Tristan had asked him to pretend to be the duke.

It really did seem that a lot had happened to all of them, during the time they'd been apart.

The news that Faith was actually alive and that she was not Ayla's mother surprised Hart enough that he had to take a moment to process; he slowly, very carefully took another sip of wine, focusing on the glass. They had decided, long ago, to pray to the immortals to bring Faith back, and in a way it had actually worked. Faith was alive. She was well, and it sounded like she, at least, was happy. Thank the gods or the Fates or whoever, Hart thought.

"...and Ayla's real mother..." Tristan said, and then abruptly stopped. Hart looked up at his brother and caught a glance of some unreadable expression on his face. Worry, maybe. Or indecision.

"It's alright," Hart said softly. "I don't need to know. Just keep Ayla safe.

"And, speaking of..." He set his glass of wine down and turned to his bag to begin rummaging within it.

After a moment he pulled out what looked like a crown. It was big enough to fit an adult, though Hart considered that at the rate Ayla was growing, she may be able to wear it soon enough, perhaps even within a few years.

The crown, or the halo as the game mistress had called it, was surprisingly heavy for its size and exceptionally made, crafted of some unknown metal. Hart handed it over to Tristan and Ayla to look at. It looked expensive, though Hart had no idea what it was worth.

"Isn't it pretty?" he asked. "It's for you," he said to Ayla. Then he turned his gaze to Tristan. "I picked it up in a competition, a maze set up by the immortals," he said. "It was sort of like a prize for making it to the end."

Hart had never told anyone about the maze in detail. Or at least, he hadn't told anyone willingly. If he was to tell someone, it would be Tristan. He sometimes felt he needed someone else to know all that had happened in the labyrinth. All he had been through, and all he had done and not done.

But Tristan already had so much to worry about. Hart struggled for a moment trying to decide what all he needed to tell, and what Tristan needed to hear.

"I think the crown is magical, or close to it," Hart said finally. "See these markings?" he asked, pointing to the halo, which was engraved with strange symbols. "I think they're special. They might be runes of some sort, I'm not sure. But with the right enchantment, I think this crown --the halo-- could be quite powerful."

He took hold of his wineglass again, swirling the wine within it, fidgeting with it before taking another slow sip. "But with magic banned in Rynmere, I couldn't get the halo enchanted myself.

"I'll pretend to be the duke, Tristan, whatever you want," Hart said. He was Tristan's brother; he would do almost anything to make him happy. "But promise me that when you're in Scalvoris you'll try to get the halo enchanted. With the right enchantment, I'd hoped it might be able to hide someone from the immortals. I think this halo, these markings, are powerful enough to do such a thing.

"And then maybe it could hide Ayla. And then maybe, finally, she would be safe.

"I know about the mage burnings," Hart said. He grimaced, remembering Sarah Dj'pyrj on her pyre. "I was arrested at the one on the fifth for protesting." He had seen Tristan there, but he wasn't sure if Tristan had seen him, or how long his brother had stayed. So much had happened. "So please, do be careful." He didn't want Tristan to get in trouble for having the crown, but if it could protect Ayla from Aelig or Edasha or whichever other immortal might come after her, Hart felt it may be worth it in the end.

"I promise I'll try to be a good duke," he said then, quirking a smile at the words even as he took the echo scroll Tristan handed him. He'd seen something like this before; he'd used one during the maze. He didn't know where his half of that one had gotten to. He must have lost it. That, or maybe he'd thrown it away.

"But I do have to warn you," Hart said, studying the scroll, "I've never ruled anything before." Surely Tristan knew that? "I guess I have a question. Not about ruling, exactly, but sort of.

"Have you ever considered using your power as duke to do something about what's going on in the kingdom? The mages..." Hart paused, thinking.

"I guess I don't know how the kingdom works, how able you are to protest the king's actions." Hart knew the names of the noble houses and their symbols, but not a lot about the inner workings of the ruling class. He didn't even know what it was Tristan did as duke. He supposed that to pretend to be Tristan, he would have a lot to study up on. "But if you could do something to stop what's happening... would you?"

Off Topic

This is the description (slightly altered for clarity) that Nymph gave of the halo Hart recieved from the labyrinth:

The halo is heavy, similar in size to a prince’s crown. It has strange markings written on it in Ancient. The difference between your halo [a false artifact] and the real Halo [an artifact sought by the immortals] is that, once activated, the inscription does nothing. Given that there is value in the fake and that it was exquisitely made, the false artifact is worth about 1200gn if sold to the right collector. There may also be an opportunity for it to be imbued with some sort of magic...

[Tristan Venora]

“I always wanted to wear a crown”, Tristan remarked as Hart pulled out the halo and looked at it fascinatedly. “Until I realized that kings have people trying to kill them all the time at least”, he added, but he still extended his hand as if he were asking his brother for permission to touch it. His eyes were wide, and he tried to picture what he would look like with it on his head (spectacular!) – until Hart stated that it was for Ayla. When Hart said that it wasn’t meant for him, he immediately lowered his hand. He also pouted a little, but then he came to the conclusion that he really oughtn’t be jealous of his daughter, besides, the halo would look even better on Ayla!

“Look what uncle Hart gave you!” he said to Ayla and grinned. His daughter was too small to realize how valuable the gift was. She could only see that it was pretty and shiny, and she clapped her hands enthusiastically because she liked pretty and shiny things. While Ayla admired the halo that was still much too big for her small head, Tristan remarked thoughtfully, “I took part in a competition that had been organized by the Immortals as well. We were told that there were several teams, one for each Immortal. I was in Ilaren’s team, but she wasn’t at all like the Ilaren I know. Did you know that I wanted to marry her before all that?” He looked at Hart questioningly and kind of sadly. He’d expected better of the woman that he loved.

“This Ilaren created an entire illusionary village full of illusionary people. She made me care about their fate – and about one of those people in particular – and then they were taken from me again. I have to admit, I was tempted to emigrate to Etzos for a moment because I was fed up with the Immortals. But then I realized that I have Zanik’s blessing, and Zanik’s always been nice to me.”

He realized that he was rambling and abruptly stopped and took a sip from his glass. “I promise”, he said. “I’ll find the best mage in all of Scalvoris and ask them to enchant the halo. Are you really sure that you want to give it to me though? It’s probably worth more than what I make in a season.” He was amazed, and he wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve such a gift. He had asked Hart to help him. He ought to give Hart something! “If you are sure, then I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I want nothing more than for Ayla to be safe. I love her more than anything else in this world.”

“I was there”, he admitted as Hart mentioned the mage burning on the fifth. “I thought about stopping them. I should have done so. Why didn’t you tell me that you were arrested though? I could have gotten you out of prison. The king likes me.”

As Hart warned him that he’d never ruled anything before, Tristan laughed out loud. “I hadn’t ruled anything either until King Cassander gave me Oakleigh, and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. You’ll be fine. You have your heart in the right place, besides, Sintih will be there. He’s a good advisor. He’ll help you, and he’s so used to my behaving strangely that he probably won’t notice that it’s really you!”

“I have”, he replied as Hart asked him if he had ever considered using his powers as duke to do something about what was going on in the kingdom. “More than once, but I don’t know how to go about it without starting a rebellion and plunging the kingdom into another brutal civil war. I don’t want another civil war, besides, Veljorn Burhan had an army and failed, and I only have Sintih and his mercenaries. If there were a peaceful way to stop this, I’d definitely do it though even though I never wanted to have any kind of power.” He shook his head as he realized what he had just said.

“Here I am, talking about protesting and changing the kingdom, and trusting you to keep this to yourself, and yet I can’t bring myself to telling you about Ayla’s mother. You wouldn’t look at her differently if you knew what kind of woman she is, would you?”

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"

"Of course I'm sure," Hart said, smiling as Ayla looked over the halo. "Keep it, it's yours." Tristan had said the halo was worth more than what he made in a season-- which likely meant it was worth more than Hart made in nearly half an arc.

Hart had wondered before what the point of having money was, if not to spend it. The same was true of the halo-- what was the point of Hart keeping it for himself, if he truly wanted to give it away?

He cared about Tristan and Ayla. Anything he could do to make them safe, he would. "I just hope the halo can help," he said.

Tristan said he had also taken part in a competition set up by the immortals, and Hart frowned as he listened to his brother's tale. "I was in the labyrinth around the end of Vhalar," he said when Tristan had finished. "When were you in the village created by Ilaren?"

Could they have participated in two parts of the same competition? For a moment Hart considered what might have happened if it had been Ilaren's team against his own in that labyrinth.

There would have been no question. He would have switched sides, even if it meant losing, or being cursed by Edasha-- it was as simple as that. He would not have hurt Tristan.

"I think I remember you saying you were in love," he tried to smile. "But not that you wanted to marry Ilaren. I'm sorry she betrayed you." It wasn't right what Ilaren had done. Perhaps all immortals had cruelty in them.

"I was on Edasha's team..." he added after a hesitation. "But it wasn't what I thought. The maze--" He stopped to consider what to say, especially in front of Ayla, "Tristan, did you have to hurt anyone? Edasha sent us in against another immortal's team--" He had never even learned which one. "And only one team could come out. It was us or them." Do you understand? Had Tristan had to kill the opposition? Had he faced tasks --like the one Hart had faced with the poison strawberries-- that would have killed him?

"I was angry with Edasha, too, when it was over," Hart admitted. "She tried to congratulate us, she said I would see her again... but my team was not very happy, to have been forced to do what we did. I don't know about the others, exactly, but I told her I didn't want to see her and I left." He sighed, setting down the wineglass which was now, unfortunately, empty. But he shouldn't have another.

"I couldn't have told you I was arrested," he continued, referring to the mage burning on the fifth. "I don't think they would have let me correspond with anyone. Besides, I was only arrested for a short time."

"Do you remember how I once guessed what it was you most needed? I guessed that you needed Ayla to be safe. I had always thought it was some sort of instinct, that I was able to do that." He went silent for a trill. There was always a feeling that he had to protect himself, somehow, when he spoke about the strange things he could do. But this was Tristan. "I did something like that at the mage burning, and they thought I was a mage. But I'm not, so they had to let me go." He smiled.

Tristan was worried about starting another civil war, and Hart considered that it would be very, very bad for that to happen. But he hadn't been talking about fighting the king; even if it was for a good cause, Hart didn't like when people fought.

"Well," he said slowly, trying to put his thoughts to words, "Couldn't you show your displeasure by prohibiting trade from Oakleigh to Rynmere?" Though he didn't know a lot about politics or inter-duchy relationships, he knew trade was important. "If you could find like-minded allies in the Settlements, or in some of the Rynmeran duchies, trade sanctions might be enough to force the king to reconsider the harshness of his... decree."

The king was killing his citizens. He was burning people alive. Someone had to do something about it.

But should that someone have to be Tristan?

Hart supposed it was something to think about.

As Tristan posed a hypothetical about Ayla's mother, Hart looked over at the both of them, eyes questioning as he tried to work out what Tristan meant. What kind of woman she is, Hart repeated to himself, and wondered if Tristan meant that Ayla's mother was a person of ill repute.

But, "Ayla's my niece," Hart said simply. He smiled at her; she always seemed so happy. Why should it matter who her mother was, then?

"I love her," he said, and shrugged. "I don't see why that should change."

"But you don't need to prove your trust in me by saying anything," he added. "Ayla comes first, I understand. I wouldn't want it another way."

[Tristan Venora]

“I was there in Vhalar“, Tristan replied. His eyes widened as something occurred to him. “Do you … do you think that we took part in the same competition?” he wanted to know. “Why do you think they did it? Because they were bored or because the future of Idalos was at stake? I hope that there was more to it and this wasn’t just some sort of bizarre form of entertainment. If they did it for Idalos, I’d understand – but I don’t want to be treated like some sort of game piece!”

“I have enough of being used by the Immortals!” he said, his eyes ablaze.

“I should probably travel to Rharne and talk to Ilaren”, he murmured. “and ask her for an explanation. But I’m not sure if I want to. I’m not sure if I still love her”, he admitted, sighed and looked at Ayla. There had been a time when he had wanted nothing more than to share his life with Ilaren and for Ilaren to become his daughter’s new mother.

He had thought that she would understand her and that she wouldn’t judge her … but that probably wasn’t true. She would probably refuse to even touch Ayla because she was Syroa’s or Lisirra’s child!

He’d seen how the Immortals sometimes treated each other.

“No, I didn’t have to hurt anyone”, he replied. “At least I didn’t have to do that. I refused to kill anybody. The other people in my team didn’t seem to have a problem with killing a group of innocent savages though. They were quite happy to follow Ilaren’s orders, like good little slaves, and when I pointed out that it was wrong, I was slapped.”

“That was actually kind of funny”, he admitted. “In fact, it was nearly hilarious. I thought that Vivian would run me through with her sword, but no, she just slapped me. Vivian Warrick, one of my cousin Zvezdana’s companions”, he explained in case Hart didn’t know. There had been a time when he had hated Zvezdana and her friends, but he had changed his mind. Maybe Queen Zvezdana wouldn’t have been so bad. Maybe it would have been better if the rebellion had succeeded.

“Yes”, he replied, confused, as Hart asked him if he remembered how he had once guessed what he needed the most. He wasn’t sure what he was getting at. He’d always thought that his brother was just good with people – much better than he was, in fact. “If you aren’t a mage, and it isn’t some sort of instinct, what is it then? Did an Immortal secretly bless you?” he wanted to know. It seemed a realistic possibility to him.

“I just worked out a trade agreement with House Andaris”, he replied as Hart suggested prohibiting trade from Oakleigh to Rynmere. “Besides, Oakleigh would suffer as well if I prohibited trade. But maybe, if I found enough allies … I have to think about it”, he murmured. He didn’t like his brother’s suggestion particularly. He wished Cassander would just stop killing mages and become the man he had befriended again. He wasn’t always a bad king, he’d just done a few things that were inexcusable.

“Then I won’t say anything now”, he decided. “But one trial I will tell you everything, about Ayla, her mother and Faith. It’s quite a story. I seem to attract the attention of powerful beings no matter what I do!” He paused for a moment and then he said, “I’d just like to thank you again, for helping me and being there for me.”

“If I leave, if I really leave, I will probably do so in late Ashan or early Ymiden”, he added, suddenly wondering if he really should go on a vacation now, while the king’s men were killing people. But there were times when he found Rynmere almost unbearable. He had to do something!

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"

It was a lot to take in, and Hart mulled for a moment upon the different facets of the conversation and their implications. Tristan had indeed been in the village in late Vhalar, and surely that meant-- "I think we must have been in the same competition."

Saying it aloud, Hart felt as if the wine had gone sour in his stomach. Someone could have killed Tristan. If he had been up against the aukari or the man that had shot Hart or the one-winged man, Tristan could have been killed.

"My team did terrible things," he said, quietly. "I know it was unforgiveable, what Ilaren did to you. But I'm glad you were in that village instead of where I was."

Hart had also refused to kill. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. But in the end he couldn't stop it. The maze had taken them. He had heard the screaming. All of the others, the pregnant girl, the little tunawa, and the man with the crossbow-- presumably, they'd all died that day.

He still had the scar from where he'd been shot.

"I'm sorry Ilaren created those false people, and made you think they were real," he said. He didn't say that he wished the people he had gone against had not been real. If only they had not been real. But they had been.

"I don't know what the immortals want. I used to think-- I used to think they were good. All biqaj worship U'frek, though the biqaj accept that U'frek is a capricious god. He has to be; he's the god of the sea. I'd always liked the peaceful immortals, Ashan, Ymiden, and Ziell, too. But now I don't know. After what they've done to you, and after what they've made us do--" He shook his head, grimacing. "I don't understand them."

"Edasha wanted a halo, much like the one I just gave you," he said. "This one is a replica. It's beautiful, expensive, and potentially magical-- but not the real thing. One of my teammates got the real one, an artifact of great power. He must have given it to her. I don't know what she did with it." He remembered wondering what it had all been for, because Edasha had never told them. He'd wondered if Edasha had planned to use the halo for good, or to hurt others.

But if her team had killed to win it, how could have it been used for good?

"I don't know what they want," he said again. And then, answering another question Tristan had asked him, "And I'm not marked by any of them. Not blessed by any of them."

"I don't know why I can do the things I can," Hart said. That wasn't quite true; he didn't know for certain. But this was true, fully: "I think it's just a part of who I am."

Tristan spoke of a trade agreement he'd made with Andaris, seeming reluctant to prohibit trade to Rynmere due to the agreement, and Hart, emotionally exhausted by the conversation about the immortals, just nodded his head. Someone had to do something, he thought again. But maybe that person didn't have to be Tristan. Prohibiting trade wouldn't likely make him many friends, at least not in Rynmere.

It was certainly safer for Tristan to do nothing.

Perhaps that was best.

But, Hart realized, he himself could no longer stand by and just let bad things happen. He'd learned that from Sarah Dy'pyrj, and from the labyrinth. Both times people had died; both times, Hart could have done more. He should have done more. He should have done everything he could, and damn himself to the consequences.

Someone had to do something, and maybe that someone had to be him. Even if it meant bringing the ire of the crown and all the mage-haters down upon him.

Because if not him, then who?

"Let me know when you need me, then," Hart said. Tristan said he might leave in late Ashan or early Ymiden, and Hart felt, suddenly, that there was so much to do before then. He didn't know if he would be able to do the things that he must while he was tied to Oakleigh, pretending to be Tristan. He couldn't risk linking whatever it was he had to do with his brother's position.

"I'll need to get a copy of some of your clothes, you know, to dress the part. And you should wear simpler clothes while you're traveling," he mused, considering the smaller details. He looked down at the echo scroll. "I have this for any questions," he repeated, mostly to himself. Then he smiled. "And should you need to use a false name while you're traveling, you could always borrow my name. Perhaps you should start thinking of a false name for Ayla, too, just in case."

"I think it will be good for you, if you are able to get away. Ayla's never seen anyplace but Rynmere, and I actually don't know-- have you ever been away from Rynmere, Tristan?" Hart was of the opinion that travel was good for the psyche; seeing new places reminded a person that the world was very big. And that there were lots and lots of good people out there, kind people, people living happy lives. "Perhaps you should do as you suggested, and stop by Rharne to talk to Ilaren, as well. Even if you no longer love her, perhaps speaking to her might help."

OOC: Sort of strange, but I just looked up Ayla's name and it means oak tree, or halo, moonlight. What a coincidence!

[Tristan Venora]

“Oh“, Tristan made as Hart told him that he wasn’t marked by any of the Immortals. If he wasn’t marked, what was he then? A Mortalborn, like Ayla? No, that notion was completely ludicrous. Hart looked normal. He didn’t age at three times the normal speed, besides, if he were Mortalborn Edasha and the other Immortals would probably have been nicer to him. “Maybe you are kind of magical then. Not a mage, just magical. There’s a difference. There are people with all kinds of strange abilities in Idalos. If you want to find out why you are the way you are, there are means and ways. I have friends that can probably help you figure it out – if you are willing to trust them”, he offered because he had the feeling that it bothered Hart somehow.

“I won’t give you any copies”, he replied as the conversation turned to clothes and names and such. “You can have my actual clothes. You can use everything that you can find in my house. For as long as I’m gone, it’s yours. I can give you money as well, if you want. You are doing me a huge favour. Just tell me how much. As for false names …” he continued and paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. He didn’t like using a different name. He rather liked his real name, but Hart did have a point. “I’ll think of one. I should probably wear a wig or dye my hair as well. Do you think I’d look good as a blonde?” he asked and ran a hair through his dark locks.

“No, I’ve never travelled further than Oakleigh”, he replied. “I’ve never been interested in travelling before because Rynmere was perfect in my opinion. It isn’t anymore though. I have to admit, I’m excited! Rynmere feels a little suffocating right now. The only thing I’m not looking forward to is the trip on the boat”, he admitted and shuddered. “I get terribly seasick. I wonder if it’s possible to make an anti-seasickness potion with alchemy”, he murmured because he really didn’t want to have to go through that again. As a duke he regularly travelled to the capital. The journey only took a trial or two, and he nearly died every time. The journey to Scalvoris took much longer!

If only that idiot Cassander hadn’t closed the Eclipse Portal! He’d have been able to travel to Scalvoris in an instant!

“You are right. I should visit Ilaren in Rharne”, he replied. “I just hope that she agrees to talk to me. I miss her sometimes even though she betrayed me”, he admitted.

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"

OOC: Really sorry for the delay!

"I must have some sort of magic," Hart agreed, again thinking of the mage burning. "The mage's mother was calling for her daughter, and I was trying to get to the stage--" He had meant to get to the daughter. He had meant to spare her suffering.

But he hadn't reached her in time.

"I came to the mother, instead. I touched her shoulder and she folded down to the ground. The same thing happened to the guard who was with her, who accidentally touched my hand. There was something about my touch. The mage's mother stopped screaming, stopped crying. Suddenly, what was happening no longer mattered; that, or it couldn't hurt her. She hummed and smiled, as if nothing was wrong."

He still didn't know if what he had done was good or bad. The woman had smiled as her daughter burned. One of the mage-hunters had said that Hart had robbed the woman of her grief. Hart had rebutted that he had robbed her of her trauma. But what he had done-- only later did he wonder if he had temporarily taken away her will. Her and the guard both. Just by touching them.

The thought disturbed him.

"It wore off later. But that was what got me arrested."

"I'm... not certain what I want to do about it, this... magic. I suspect some people might be able to confirm what it was, exactly, that I did. The question is whether or not I want to speak to those people."

Tristan had mentioned having friends that might be able to help him, but Hart wasn't certain he wanted to talk to anyone about this. It made him decidedly uncomfortable.

And, if he was to be honest with himself about it, it made him angry as well.

"I don't need coin," he said automatically when Tristan offered, having never taken money from his brother before. "Borrowing your clothes is enough. Thank you." At least Hart wouldn't have to buy expensive clothing, clothing he couldn't very well afford, to pretend to be Tristan.

As for doing Tristan a huge favor, Hart just smiled. "What are brothers for?"

"And I think you should try auburn hair," he said, still smiling.

"From what little I know of alchemy," Hart added, "I think a seasickness potion could work."

"Unfortunately Rharne is not on the way to Scalvoris," he said. "It's south from here, while Scalvoris is north and far far to the east. So if you do go to Rharne, it will likely add time to your ship's journey."

"But we've discussed much, and I'm sure you're very busy and have a lot of planning to do," Hart finished. He stood and wound the scarf back around his neck, pulled on his gloves. Should Tristan stand with him, he would shake his brother's hand in farewell. He waved goodbye to Ayla, smiling at her. "Admittedly, I have a lot of planning to do, too," he said.

"Thanks for the wine and the company. I'll see you again sometime, Tristan, Ayla. Hopefully before another half an arc has passed. And I promise, Tristan, that I'll do my very best as duke." Hart would do his best for Tristan's sake.

"I hope you have a splendid time in Scalvoris with Faith."