• Memory • Convalescing (Doran)

[Narav]

Ymiden 17, 714

“I have never been so scared in my life as to face down sickness. You cannot stab sickness. You cannot strangle it, burn it, or bribe it. As you find your body a traitor, the only thing left to you is pray...and await deliverance.” –Narav

“Better than yesterday,” Mina told him with a calculating frown, “But not out of danger yet.” Narav shifted weight from one foot to the other to keep his hands from trembling. Holding the tray of fruit, honey-flecked porridge, and a rasher of thick bacon his trembling would have clattered plates to glasses. If he shook, Mina would take the tray to Edward and leave Narav to early lessons and study. “The doctor’s assistant will be here soon and your father needs his rest. Let me handle his breakfast.” Mina reached for the tray but Narav was quick on his already shifting feet, stepping out of her range.

“Mina, I can handle it.” He assured, “Doran assured us he was no longer contagious last he stopped by. If father is recovering, he’ll regain his appetite in short order.” Lowering the tray a bit he tried to catch Mina’s eyes, scrunch his features and appear sympathetic. “It’s been six trials since he’s talked to any of us. Marvel of conversation though you are, surely seeing his son might lift spirits?” Mina appraised the young man imperiously, leaning in to inspect the cook’s array of food on the tray. After another moment she plucked a blackened bit of bacon from the dish and stepped aside, allowing Narav access to the heavy door.

“Doran will be here at any moment,” she warned, “See that you don’t interrupt his work. If you believe you can hole up in there and escape your afternoon history, you’ve underestimated me severely.” Narav nodded, eerily convinced she had some manner of power to read his mind. Today was Etzos early history, and something about the way the Etzosians prattled on about not needing Immortals came off as boring and a little whiny. When would he ever trade with Etzos anyways. Hiladrith was the only city worth selling in up the river from Ne’hear. The River Isles had a much more melodic sound to them and their culture was fast-paced and exciting. But Mina was a severe woman and not one to risk obfuscation with. Narav forced a pleasant laugh that sounded more strangled than anything else and slipped through the door.

Edward’s bedchamber was thick with scent. To mask the smell of sickness, incense had been burned at all hours of the night. Instead Narav had the uncomfortable thought of a venomous serpent lying in wait beneath poppy flowers. Morgan’s Malady had struck swift almost fifteen trials ago. Edward had no doubt caught it from a Rharne ship he had been haggling with in port. Shortly after he returned home the whole ship was set back to sea. They should have been stopped before making port, but the crafty devils had hidden their sick in the cargo hold to conduct business. In Rharne it was the Green Fever, identified for the unique sickly greenish cast that came to the skin and lingered in the bile of the afflicted. Ordinarily the sickness was easy to treat, he read, as the antidote grew in a special flower native to Rharne itself. But they were leagues from Rharne and few local doctors had any of the dried plant in reserves. It was a bit touch and go for awhile, but with the aid of Ealine and the Lochgrass gardens, it turned out that Rharne floral beds had recently sprouted.

The poultice and medicine was simple to create after and Doran had come on behalf of the family doctor to mix the medicine on site every few days while Edward recovered. Personally, Narav would have much preferred learning the art of medicine and chemistry from him to the musty antiquity of Etzos culture, but while his father was ill…Mina’s word was the new law.

“Father?” Narav called out, his voice sounding much too small to belong to someone on the cusp of twenty cycles. He cleared his throat again and opened his mouth to speak, but the gentle snores drowned out the potential of conversation. Mina was right, infuriatingly. Narav set the tray of food down on Edward’s bedside table and took one of the chairs beside him. Edward still had a greenish cast to his skin, but it was only the suggestion of color now. He breathed deep and much of the cold sweat had dried on his forehead, leaving a light spattering of marks. He was getting better, just as Doran had said he would.

Narav twisted one finger absently, remembering how helpless he felt when first Edward had collapsed out on the balcony. He’d been too terrified to touch him, lest the sickness spread. The cowardice had bothered him, haunted his nights for each Edward lay in the throes of this pestilence. He had hoped to apologize before Doran arrived, ask for some task to guide his penance and set to it. But Narav couldn’t bring himself to wake his father from deep sleep and instead sat there, kicking his legs out and back nervously.

[Doran]

The Mortalborn had spent much of the past season in Ne’haer, providing a local hospital with chemicals as well as potions and occasionally assisting the doctors that were employed there. Andaris would always be his real home. It was the place where he had been born and spent some of the happiest as well as some of the saddest moments of his life, but something had happened in Andaris that made him request some time off from the university and disappear for a while. He had almost been found out. Somebody had begun to ask questions, and he had no interest in trying to explain his connection to the Immortals and why he didn’t age, although Andaris was a safer environment for his kind than most.

For the past couple of trials a particularly challenging case had kept him busy, a good thing considering the many unpleasant thoughts that were on his mind. Edward Tobelle, a local merchant had collapsed. For a while his sickness had baffled the doctor that had been called to his bed until it had turned out that Mister Tobelle had recently undertaken a trip to Rharne. While his colleague had made the initial diagnosis, the Mortalborn had been tasked with regularly visiting Mister Tobelle and mixing the medicine he would need. For a while he had worried that his patient would not survive, but then he had started to get better, although there were some things that still gave him cause for concern.

For that reason he had not only prepared a tea of sage to soothe his stomach and a salve that would hopefully ease his breathing, but also pondered the possibility of mixing a strengthening potion as he made his way to the Tobelle house that morning. He stopped in front of the door for a moment and checked if he did indeed have everything that he needed with him before he knocked. Once the door had been opened, he immediately made his way to Edward Tobelle’s room. “How is he today?” he asked the young man that sat at his patient’s bedside, Mister Tobelle’s son, he remembered. “And how are you?” Mister Tobelle was not contagious anymore, but a small amount of worry always remained and thus he automatically found himself checking Narav for symptoms.

As he waited for Narav’s answer, he opened his bag and put the things he had brought with him onto the table next to Edward’s bed. As always, the Mortalborn wore a suit of coal and crimson rather than the white that the doctors at the hospital seemed to favour. Tall and tanned, he had little in common with the typical scientists that spent much of their trial in an enclosed space, brooding over books and potions, suggesting a past that differed greatly from that of his colleagues that rarely exerted themselves physically.

“Has he eaten anything since my last visit?” he asked and glanced at the tray. The tone of his voice was polite, albeit a little cool. He was not one of those doctors that empathized greatly with their patients and tried to coddle their family or them and make their condition seem less serious than it really was. He tended to be direct and was occasionally somewhat cynical, but he did try to provide his patients with the best possible treatment.

He bent down to check Edward’s breathing and his heartbeat. “He breathes a little more easily at least”, he observed.

[Narav]

Doran was a taller man than Narav by almost another head and shoulders. He walked imperiously into the room with his bag, but somehow managed not to bang the doors open with his arrival. Narav was used to foreigners by this point. To some degree, he’d almost seen more people outside Ne’Hear than inside. Sometimes it seemed like the entire city was just a camp for transients. Merchants moved in an out of the port every day and no one stayed long in the cluttered streets. Could anyone really call themselves a true son of the city, Narav found himself wondering, or are we all pretending we know each other, we belong together?

It was a short thought, unproductive and the young man set it aside. He offered a bright smile to Doran, returned to him much chillier by the severe doctor’s demeanor. Narav knew that though, he couldn’t really help but try and be friendly. Somehow Doran’s brusqe mannerism made the foreigner all the more compelling. Something about being ignored…well…not ignored, more cooly rebuffed made Narav crave the older man’s approval all the more. “I…er…” Narav took a breath, “Father is much better today, I think. I can barely see the green in his skin any longer.” It was a hopeful cadence to his words. In reality, Narav knew little about the practice of medicine or alchemy. He had studied where he could, but it was always hard to tell when a symptom vanishing was a good sign or the lurking of something more monstrous. “I am well,” he finished, rocking to his feet and standing just outside Doran’s path. “I mean, I’m not sick so I suppose that’s something.” Had he ever been sick? Now that he thought about it, no, he never had. Much stronger resistance to such things than his sister or father. Hadn’t he been with the Rharne merchant as well? Fortunate, then, that he didn’t befall the same fate. “Ed-…Father hasn’t been eating like his normal self when awake, but he has been able to get down solids without falling ill.”

Narav peered over Doran’s shoulder as the chemist began preparing the bottles and stoppers. The clink sounded professional, like the heralding of magic. Narav knew this wasn’t magic, at least not the kind of magic he’d read about in the histories…but certainly the ability to take a flower common as a weed on a faraway island and turn it into a medicine was some manner of logical sorcery. At least, it must seem like sorcery to the uninitiated.

“Erm.” Narav started and then caught himself, waiting for a break in the preparing of tinctures before letting his questions form. “If I may be bold, where are you from? I don’t…” Narav tapped a finger against his chin, a habit from Mina, “I can’t place your accent. Did you study medicine back where you’re from? Why come…” he realized he had barraged one too many questions midway through the last, “…to Ne’hear?” He finished lamely, trailing his gaze to his sleeping father. Edward was resting soundly but would be awake soon, no doubt. Maybe he could get a question or two before the merchant conferred with the doctor and Narav was dismissed.

[Doran]

Narav, the Mortalborn observed, had a tendency to use fillers and occasionally hesitated before he said something or abruptly corrected himself. He wondered why that was the case, whether he was just somewhat shy around others, whether his worries for his father had affected his mental state or whether there were simply some things that he didn’t want to share with a relative stranger. The fact that the boy had nearly called his father ‘Edward’ had especially caught his attention. Was the man not his real father then? He looked directly at Narav for a moment, but came to the conclusion that it was none of his business, at least not for the time being.

He nodded curtly as the boy remarked that he could barely see the green in his father’s skin any longer. He’d made the same observation. Edward’s skin looked almost normal again, although he was much too pale. He also didn’t seem to be sweating as much anymore. Still, he put the back of his hand against the man’s forehead and neck to check his temperature. They were both cool to the touch, and he removed his hand again, satisfied.

“Being well and not being sick are not the same thing”, he pointed out, narrowing his eyes slightly as he did so. “Is there anything you would like to tell me? I don’t want to come back tomorrow only to find you unconscious on the floor somewhere.” Mortals, he had learned, had a tendency to hide their problems, even if they knew deep down that it would be better to be honest about them. He found that kind of behaviour to be counter-productive, even if he had been guilty of it himself every now and then.

“That is to be expected”, he remarked as Narav informed him that his father hadn’t been eating normally. He found it encouraging that he had been able to keep what he had eaten down at least though. “But I have some things that will help here.” He pointed at the table where he had put his medicine. “Sage tea has a carminative effect while ginger will reduce nausea. It is most important that your father does not only eat, but also stays hydrated though. He has lost a lot of fluids. If the tea is too bitter, you can add a bit of honey to it”, he added, remembering that a lot of people didn’t like its taste.

Did he really have an accent? He looked at the boy appraisingly. It surprised him that he had been able to pick up on something that he considered to be comparatively minor. Narav, he decided was somewhat hesitant, but he was observant and seemed to possess some manner of intelligence.

“I studied at the Academy of Viden. I dedicated most of my time to chemistry, although I did also take some courses in medicine”, he answered readily as he expected a normal man would and gestured for Narav to step away from the bed lest they woke his father up because they were too loud. It was the truth. He had indeed received a diploma at the Academy of Viden a few arcs before. Others of his kind, he suspected, faked their documents, but he thought it better to have at least a few documents that were genuine.

“But my family are originally from Rynmere”, he continued. The kingdom was big enough that he felt safe revealing that piece of information. He would not mention the name of the city he had lived in though, although it was unlikely that Narav would ever travel there and investigate. It had occurred to him that a native of Viden would speak the language of the Eidisi more or less fluently which he did not and thus it seemed unwise to him to pretend to be such, especially since he didn’t know if the Tobelles spoke any languages besides Common.

“As for why I came to Ne’haer …” He paused for a moment. That question would be a bit harder to answer. “I lived here with my mother for a time when I was a child and have fond memories of the city.” That was not a lie either, but also not the whole truth. He had lived in Ne’haer for a while nearly four centuries before because his mother had found work there, but he hadn’t come to Ne’haer because of those memories. He had mostly come to Ne’haer because nobody knew him there anymore.

“Have you ever been to Viden?” he asked, perhaps in an attempt to keep Narav from prying too deeply into his private life. “You look old enough to begin your university studies, and the Academy of Viden is quite excellent. One cannot only study the sciences there, but also learn skills that would be useful for a merchant to have.”

[Narav]

Hesitating, Narav looked down at his hands. Edward slumbered, his deep breath filling the room like a metronome. He wasn't used to seeing the man like this. Edward lived in bright moments, loud with laughter or sound. This quiet was an unnatural part of the merchant that Narav decided he truly did not like. In silence there was death, waiting with unexpected fangs. "I haven't been eating much since..." he trailed off, holding out a hand helplessly to Edward, "I guess I'm just concerned. Danielle is out on one of his ships, his flagship sailed off without him, I'm just not used to seeing him like this." There was a haggard edge in his voice, the beginning of emotion that he dutifully pushed back. The doctor was a severe man, or at the very least disciplined. Narav found he didn't want to show weakness in front of him, not if he couldn't help it.

"I'm fine though," he lied, still feeling a little faint, "Not sick or anything, I mean, nothing a good meal won't fix anyways." He trailed off and watched the doctor ply his trade, deftly mixing ingredients and portioning out tinctures. "You sound well-traveled, like you've been everywhere." Narav smiled, a little wistful, "Mostly I follow the trade routes between here and Rynmere. Sometimes we stop near the Eternal Empire, but I'm told to stay on the ship. I think..." he and Doran moved to the larger sitting room of his father's bedchamber where Narav leaned against a divan, "I think he's protective of me."

Wringing his hands together, he threw them up and sighed, "Not that I blame him, you know? I take lessons. Dagger-play, rapier-play, basics of dueling and self defense. Edward is the nautical commander though, not me. He's carved out of sea-salt and timber and I'm..." Narav sorta let it lay there, "I mean, I'm sure it's clear that I'm not his true son." Frowning, looking down at his hands, "I'm not ashamed. My father was a brigand, a blood brother of Edward, and my mother probably some woman in a village he sacked or laid up in. I don't know him, I never will. I'd rather make something of myself than be a thief and a murderer."

Flexing his fingers he looked askance at Doran, "Do you think you can escape your heritage? I mean...who your parents really are. Is there something to being the son of your father, you think? Some inescapable somethingness that draws you to similar fates?" He dropped his hands along his side, "Anyways, I hope not. I'd love to visit Viden or study in the University. Father says I should learn my trade on the sea through experience than shut up in some classroom, but honestly I think I'd like the idea."


At the gates to the Tobelle estate, a tall man approached the guards and nodded amicably. Neither of the two acknowledged him save to grip the haft of their halberds tighter, the clink of metal heralding their intent. Both hands up, the stranger turned away from them, striding confidently down the street and into an alley between two homes further down the road. The guards turned their attention back to the strangers passing to and fro, never noticing the tabby cat that slipped from the entry of the alley and neatly stepped through the bars of the gate beside one of the guard's legs. No sooner had the cat passed across the courtyard and up the stairs than it shifted in a blur of shimmering light. The man was no longer as well-dressed, wearing a simple linen shirt and buckskin pants. Belted at his side three curved blades were sheathed and waiting. Pushing his long hair back and tying it high, the man pushed open the door and slunk into the house.

His path was clear. The illness would have left Edward weak now, weak enough to easily take his life. A snip of his finger, and some hair and Ranix would be in charge of the great Tobelle empire. Shift around some resources, cause a little scandal and slip out. The plan was simple and yet remarkably effective. This would be the fourth Ranix had poisoned in such a way. The Den would be pleased with the offering, perhaps even enough to grant him his own student.

Pausing at the crossing of two halls, Ranix breathed deep and followed the smell of Edward forward.

It was only a matter of time.

[Doran]

As Narav insisted that he was fine, the son of Ziell nodded curtly, although he didn’t really believe him. Ultimately he was not his patient and not his responsibility though. If he wanted to feel less than perfect, then so be it. He would not ask him again. He had a job to do. He turned back to his potions. It was important that he added just the right amount of every ingredient, otherwise the effects would be either too weak or too strong, both of which would impact the healing process negatively. He was utterly focused.

As the boy remarked that Edward was protective of him, he did look up for a moment though. “A father that is protective of his son is not the worst”, he told him before he turned back to his work. Before too long he was finished with it and produced a piece of paper and a pen. “I’ll write down how I want him to take the potions”, he informed him. When he had started working as a doctor, he had not always done that, but he had found that mortals sometimes suffered from peculiar memory problems where following instructions was concerned. They needed to be told everything.

As Narav spoke of Edward not being his true father, the Mortalborn put the piece of paper down and turned to look at him again. So his assumption had been correct. Narav and Edward were not related. “I think”, he began, but abruptly broke off again and furrowed his brow. Narav had inadvertently touched upon the one matter that had defined his whole life.

“I think that family is not everything. We can escape our heritage if we try hard enough and rise above our parents. My father”, he spoke. The tone of his voice had been cool and nearly indifferent before, but now there was real emotion, passion and anger. “My father is not unlike yours. He is a fool, a liar and a coward who uses and abuses others in the name of the so called greater good, but refuses to risk his own life.”

“Of course”, he added. “I am still grateful that he brought me into this world.” In truth he was more than just grateful. He despised Ziell, despised him with every fibre of his being for what he perceived as falsity and cowardice, but he treasured the abilities that his immortal blood afforded him and that set him apart from the mortals around him. He didn’t even want to think about what it would be like to be born and fade away within the blink of an eye.

“If you do what your father says, you will ultimately make yourself unhappy”, he continued. “Always keep that in mind. Most parents would be proud of a son that attends university.” As he said that he wondered if Ziell had ever been proud of him, if there had ever been a moment in the previous four centuries when he had seen him as more than just another one of his countless bastards and a tool to be used and then discarded. If he had, he thought with a certain hint of bitterness, he had never shown it.

[Narav]

Narav kicked his feet, uncomfortable. The sudden ferocity of Doran's mood swing had surprised him. The Alchemist had never been anything but cool and dispassionate during the times he'd been at the home before. Danielle had even mentioned he seemed uninvested in his patients or work. Narav remembered because that had been a point of argument between them. Danielle had insisted that a doctor need be caring, kind, and invested in the health of their patients and Narav had quietly suggested that it would be impossible to form such detailed connections with patients you only see a few times a day. A doctor, he surmised, had it hard. They only tended to see people at their worse, and that must make the world seem a dark and unfriendly place. Narav thought he might understand Doran, or at least considered that he might. The rage hidden beneath the alchemist's ordinarily collected expression was an alarming discovery.

The sea hides most of her mysteries just beneath the surface, Edward had once told him. He wasn't talking about the sea then...he'd been talking about a girl Narav had particularly favored. No one was ever completely themselves, completely on the outside. So much of everyone ticked silently beneath flesh, muscles, bone...sometimes he wished he could reach inside and pluck out the thoughts one by one, but he had no talent for it. Besides, his tutor had warned him the dangers of magic and the mad monsters mages become. Narav wasn't sure he wanted magic if it would change who he was...he wondered why anyone would take it in general.

"I don't..." he trailed off, meek in the wake of Doran's mood, "I don't really know my real father." He left that there quietly examining his feet as the alchemist worked. "I was delivered to Edward, left on his doorstep with a note explaining who I was. The best I can guess is that once my father and Edward were friends..." he looked over to the sleeping man, "But I guess they chose different paths. Edward could have left me to an orphanage, but he took me in like I was his own son. I wish Edward was my true father," Narav pushed his palms together, "Edward is an honorable man, a scourge of pirates, a respected merchant...he's everything my true father is not."

Beneath the door, a mouse squeezed through the small opening and looked up at Narav, staring wistfully toward Edward, and Doran who was meticulously busying himself with the medicine. Twitching its nose, the creature scurried along the wall to the far side of the room, across from Edward's bed...and waited.

"He insists I'll find my own path, but I can't seem to find a way to rectify this fury within me." Narav held out his hands as if the fury might collect there, bead into his palms and drip down to the stone floor, "I'm so angry. I don't think I've told many people that. I feel it all the time, like some sort of infection." He let his hands drop onto his lap and laid back, looking at the ceiling, "I feel like that comes from my true father...the rage, the anger. I'm afraid I'll grow up and...hurt someone." He looked over at Doran's back almost pleadingly, "You're sure we can escape the shadow of our parents? I hate thinking that I carry the blood of some thief and scoundrel in my veins, unable to deny it." Narav laughed, shaking his head. "I must sound like I need to be looked at, huh?"

Narav quietly took in Doran's response, and was about to comment further when a bright flash of light drew their eyes to the other side of the room. A man stood where there had been none before. Long hair and dark skin framed a narrow face and angular, grey eyes. His teeth were jagged sharp, crowding his mouth as if they barely had room to fit and his skin undulated and rippled, as if it were another living thing altogether. Tattoos spread across his skin in patterns of fierce leopards, snapping crocodiles, and soaring hawks. He was holding wrapped leather in one hand and from it he drew out a worn gladius, sharp and familiar in his grasp. Giving it an experimental spin, he angled the blade at Doran, no more than a few feet from him and held another hand out toward Narav.

"Ah! Careful now. Don't want me to slip and cut short this lovely little chit chat." He took a step forward, drawing closer to Doran, eyes quick and nimble, seeking weapons. "The dagger, boy, toss it down." Narav was frozen, his eyes not fully accepting the sharp intrusion, the impossible intrusion, "Blade, boy," the man said again, keeping his voice low enough not to carry, "Or you'll see what other tricks I can do." Blanching, Narav tore his dagger out and tossed it on the ground. His entire body shook, he had never felt so powerless.

"Now you, master alchemist, I think we can bargain with. You're a cold sort, aren't you? Seen you here and there, making your rounds. Bet you have plenty of fun little chemicals in that set of yours. Enough to slip old Edward into a nice slumber, permanent like, and to send his boy along with him."

Narav tried to say something but his throat only produced hollow breath. Like the whole of the wind had left him empty and devoid.

Ranix sneered, preparing his assimilated totem in case he needed to transform in a hurry. One or two more was all he had. He could have waited but that wasn't his style. Quick and decisive. Turn enemies into allies. "There's a lot of gold in it for you, alchemist, more than these tight purses would have spent for your services. Thrice the amount for a little help." His dark eyes whipped from face to face, "You don't owe these bluebloods anything."

OOC: This guy, as a Becomer, if it gets messy will immediately transform into a leopard and go at you, claws out. Up to you how to handle this. If Doran takes the bargain, I'll have someone enter unexpectedly to turn the tide. If he doesn't he's free to handle how he is. Ranix is an expert Becomer and an able assassin, so I leave any fighting up to you for the next post.

[Doran]

“Blood“, the Mortalborn spoke in a matter-of-fact tone as Narav admitted that he wished Edward were his true father. “Is not everything. Edward is as important as the man who brought you here, perhaps even more so because he raised you and made you into the man you are today. In a way he is your true father because he has always been there for you and cared about you.” Scourge of pirates, respected merchant, it all sounded almost too good to be true and a bit cliché on top of it. For a moment he couldn’t help but wonder if Edward really was that good or if Narav’s judgement was maybe a bit clouded. Everybody has skeletons in their closet.

He had just been about to put his things back into his bag – it was almost time for him to leave again – when Narav mentioned the fury within him. He turned around abruptly then and looked at the boy thoughtfully. The things that he spoke of were intrinsically familiar to him. He sometimes felt a fury within himself as well, the result of Syroa’s mark. In the beginning he had been unsure about the changes that she had effected in him – he had always been a disciplined man who had disapproved of showing any kind of emotion - but now he believed that the Immortal had made him stronger and better. Was Narav’s anger of similar origin or merely the result of not knowing where he had come from?

“I do believe that we can escape our parents’ shadow”, he insisted. “We are more than the sum of our parts, more than puppets whose fate is predetermined and whose every action is already set in stone. As for your fury, try not to see it as an infection and as something that needs to be rectified, but as a strength and a tool to be used. Try to channel it into a direction of your choice rather than hating yourself for it and worrying about what might happen. There’s nothing wrong with feeling that way, besides there are some people in this world that deserve to be hurt.”

He wanted to say more, to perhaps try to impart some of his views of Idalos and its inhabitants onto the boy, but it was just then that he noticed a bright flash of light into the corner of his eye and spun around, reaching for the blade that he always carried with him. The man that stood there looked ridiculous to him with his jagged teeth and his peculiar tattoos, and his wording left much to be desired, but he knew better than to completely underestimate somebody that had just appeared out of thin air.

“You are correct”, he confirmed with a curt nod and cast a glance at Narav, hoping that he wouldn’t do anything foolish. He didn’t care about the boy particularly, despite the things they had just talked about, but neither was he interested in a bloodbath as such things tended to attract attention.

“I have substances at my disposal that could potentially kill a man very quickly and quietly. I do not care about gold though. I want information. Tell me why you want to see the two of them dead and why you want my help when you could just have teleported into Edward’s bedroom while he was unconscious and done the deed yourself. I do not like to waste my time and do somebody else’s work for them.”

As he said that, he pointed his blade straight at the assassin and looked directly into his eyes. Ranix apparently thought himself skilled, but the Mortalborn was just as good a fighter, if not more so. At this point in time he was likely one of the most powerful swordsmen in the city.

[Narav]

Before the flash of light, before Ranix leaped from the form of a mouse, he had debated telling Doran that he felt a strange kinship to him. Ever since the alchemist had first arrived at their home, Narav had been drawn to him. Something about him seemed inescapably familiar, but it was so hard to place that only the compelling draw of mystery remained. Through their discussions over the last few trials, Narav had hoped to snatch that truth from the jaws of mystique but had yet to do so. Somehow, Doran was as familiar to him as might a forgotten friend or relative. Damnable something that trickled in the back of his mind.

But the curiosity was frozen when Ranix appeared.

All the blood in Narav curdled, froze solid and left him immobile. It was hard to breathe, hard to even talk. The strangled sound of surprise struggled in his throat and then fell, leaving the two men to speak. Doran leveled his sword at the naked man who cooly measured the unwavering tip and Doran's level eyes before lowering his own blade to his side and stepping back to lean against the wall.

"I've been in enough duels to know those eyes, Alchemist. You're a killer, you are. Fine." He spread his hands out, one still holding his blade and watched the doctor carefully. "A fight would attract too much attention. As would a poisoning. I've checked up on you, asked around. Quite a reputation you've built in the city for one who hasn't been here so long, I'm impressed." Edward shifted in his sleep, prompting Ranix to glance at him briefly before returning his attention to Doran.

"If I poisoned him, smothered him in his sleep, I'd be left with the problem of disposing the body. If I left him to be discovered it would be for naught. I need someone paid to be professional to demand he be moved to a new facility, or someone who can move a body without questions." Narrowed eyes held Narav carefully before focusing on the end of Doran's sword again. "My family. This is for my family. I'm no common brigand, I am a chosen servant to carry out this task at my pleasure." He indicated Edward, "I will take his place and his resources will be the resources of my family." Up came his sword again, the ends of the blades nearly touching in the quiet room, "The boy will die of the same illness as his father while his father will miraculously recover. If you do not seek coin, perhaps there is some other boon I can offer you. The Tobelles have fortune, fame, and power in this part of the world, surely a man such as yourself could find some use for that."

Narav gripped the edge of his seat, leaning forward slightly, eyes on Ranix and darting back to his fallen dagger. It was close, maybe close enough that he could scream before the assassin was upon him.

Mage. Hated, despicable mage.

Rage burned, boiling away his paralysis. Muscles tensed and Narav made his peace. If either of them moved, if they were distracted for an instant, he would go for the blade.

[Doran]

“Is that so?“ Doran asked as Ranix claimed to have asked around and raised an eyebrow. For a moment he wondered what exactly the citizens of Ne’haer had been saying about him, but then he decided that he didn’t care as long as nobody found out the truth. Ranix’ statement that he was impressed had little effect on him. He merely inclined his head a fraction to acknowledge it, but he didn’t even move his sword an inch.

“It’s always either about family or some sort of rivalry”, he remarked in a somewhat indifferent tone. He had had a family as well once, a wife and a daughter, but they had died centuries before, and those that had touched his heart since then had been few and far between. “What did Edward Tobelle do? Did he turn out to be better, more clever, more powerful? Did he ruin your business or seduce your wife or your daughter? Tell me, why should I care about the family of a man that I’ve never met before?”

He found Ranix’ behaviour to be somewhat laughable. The mage seemed to think that he was in control of the situation, that he was dictating what was happening when the opposite was the case. Ranix, he thought, seemed to have no idea who he was dealing with!

For a moment he toyed with the idea of ending it all. He had spent too much time taking care of Edward to simply let him die now. He didn’t care about money or whatever influence the Tobelles had in Ne’haer – he would be gone again in an arc or two, before people began to notice that he didn’t age, and he likely wouldn’t return for decades – but then Ranix said something about being a chosen servant, and the Mortalborn narrowed his eyes.

“Who do you serve?” he wanted to know. He would at least hear him out, he decided – if he chose to answer his question and didn’t insist on being secretive as people like him unfortunately often tended to be. Ranix might be in contact with a powerful group or even work for an Immortal, although he considered the likelihood of that to be comparatively small. If it was the case though, then associating with him would be much more beneficial than continuing to take care of Edward, no matter how many potions he had already brewed for him.

It was just then that he noticed that Narav had leaned forward slightly out of the corner of his eye though. Interesting, he thought. Apparently the boy wasn’t only somewhat intelligent, he also seemed to possess a bit of courage. Or maybe, he considered with a hint of disdain, he was just a fool who overestimated himself greatly. Either way, the Mortalborn moved to the side ever so slightly to hide Narav from Ranix’ view and, perhaps, give him a chance.

He’d let Narav make the decision. If the boy really did attack the mage, and if he did it in a halfway intelligent manner and didn’t just swing his dagger wildly like a fool, then he would be allowed to live, and he would even receive his, Doran’s help as he valued bravery and courage more than whatever character traits Ranix exhibited. If not, then both Edward and Narav would die, and he’d take whatever reward the mage promised him.