Archives: New Marmo Republic
Chapter 19: The Triumvirate: Sevrina Wakes
At first it was only a sound. A sweet sound, a lullaby. A gentle, alto hum. The melody wafted over Sevrina, though she knew not where it came from. Then the smells: a warming mixture of perfume, incense, and fresh herbs. Then colors and vision began to grace her. First nothing but muddy pools of paint, but it became sharper. Sitting at her bedside was a woman, black hair draped over black silk. As details grew, the figure became more ambiguous.
Her skin noticed the lack of her own equipment for the first time. In fact, all of her clothes were gone, replaced with a silk nightgown. A slight turn of the head spoke of the bandages put there.
“She’s waking, momma!” said an excited boy, assailing the peace of the moment.
“Shush now,” replied his mother.
The woman in black moved, coming closer. As she turned to face Sevrina, she saw it. It was not a she, but a he. The warrior that had beaten her. His robe draped across his chest, revealing the bandages on his own shoulder. Grennith waited a moment for Sevrina to come to her senses before holding out a pottery mug filled with what smelled like an herbal tea. “Drink this.”
Rising up onto her sore forearms, she eyed her former opponent and the drink he offered warily. What use would poisoning her be at this point anyway? Apparently he had her tended to. She was thirsty, and so taking a gamble, the dark elf snatched the mug from his hand and drained the contents. After she finished, she set the mug aside. “Why am I still alive?” she asked the swordsman.
Grennith smiled a little, seeing as the assassin drank without too much concern. “I see your strength is returning,” Grennith gave as his only reply to her question. “I had Lady Auster take liberties with your attire. I shall have something to eat brought in soon.”
Lady Auster, a desert beauty of a woman, flowed to Sevrina’s side as Grennith stood up and walked to the other side of the room. With the deft hands of a nurse, she pulled the ample pillows up so that Sevrina could sit up. “I would like to check your wound, if that is alright.”
Sevrina was frustrated with his avoidance of her question, she would get the answer out of him one way or another. Fool, tend my wounds and I will only rise again to strike you and your leaders down, she thought to herself. Her face expressed her frustration, but her mind was beginning to turn. She would use this to her advantage, gain his trust, and stab him in the back as soon as he fell into her trap. The fact that he had defeated her was upsetting, but she would get her revenge.
“Do as you will, I am at your mercy,” the injured dark elf spoke coldly to Marmo woman. As she allowed Lady Auster to work, she spoke to Grennith; “How long was I unconscious?”
“Dawn has passed but an hour ago,” Lady Auster said, her voice a soft thing, like a wisp of smoke on a gentle breeze. Reaching slowly, her hands tugged with care at the knots of cloth wrapped securely about the assassin’s neck and peeled them away layer by layer. “There was some bleeding, but not much. Most of it is bruising. You are quite lucky. Had the impact been anywhere else, much worse could have come.” The message was implicit. Grennith had chosen a quick recovery for her.
Grennith stood at a stand of weapons, all matching, but all quite plain in appearance. The short sword and metallic sheath lay on the rack, in order of its length. They were polished to a mirror-like status. A white cloth was draped across the end, slightly dirtied by cleaning. A pile of folded ones sat underneath, perfectly white and unused. The weaponsmaster stared at them as if their surfaces could reveal something much greater.
Lady Auster pulled the last of the bandages aside. Sevrina’s wound was still swollen a bit, but the blood had long since stopped and her bruising was already beginning to blend into her dark skin. “It will feel sore and stiff for a day or two, but it shouldn’t bother beyond that.” Pulling up a mortar filled with a paste-like mixture, she dipped her lengthy fingers in. “This will feel cold, but should not sting.” The icy mixture was spread across the irritated flesh of Sevrina’s neck. At first, the shock of the cold was uncomfortable, but the tension in her neck began to ease, as did the pain of movement some.
The black-robed warrior returned to Sevrina’s bed as the bandages were reapplied. Lady Auster rose from the stool and put away her various ingredients. “May I have a moment alone with the patient?” Gren asked.
“Of course. Please see that she stays in bed for a bit longer. Come along, Konta.”
As the door to the small brick abode closed, Grennith sat. “That woman was the wife of the man you sought to kill. Lady Auster did not sleep, but instead cared for you. You should thank her. Even now, she goes against the leaders of the Triumvirate, as I do, to save your life.” His voice was soft like a woman’s, but strong like a man’s. “You demand to know why. So I pose this same question to you: why am I, or Lady Auster, for that matter, helping you? What do you suspect?”
As Grennith explained who the woman was, Sevrina concealed her amusement under the frustrated expression her face still wore. Do you think that will make me feel guilty? I couldn’t care less. You’re all fools, turned the thoughts in the dark elf’s mind. “Oh, many reasons,” she began. Casually, she stretched her arms out in front of her, clutching her slender hands together and pushing them out palms forward. Her arms were sore from the fight, but the pain was easily tolerated. “Maybe you just want to rub the fact that you beat me in my face. Perhaps you wish to interrogate me to learn why I attacked. Though, I suppose, why bother healing me? Unless you’re one of those sorts who likes to take the time to get your informant to full health so that I’ll be healthier and last torture longer. Or maybe, you have no intent on torturing the truth out of me. You could just be buttering me up to get information, thinking that I’ll tell you everything you want to know if we’re best friends,” Sevrina grinned, a rather knowing expression, though she had nothing to be certain of. The dark elf leaned forward and crawled toward him to the end of her bed, moving slowly and seductively. While she was certain that he likely wouldn’t be enticed by her sexuality—as her groin kick the night before didn’t have much effect, and he did have quite a generous touch of femininity to his form, face, and voice—it was a part of her nature, and perhaps he’d be enticed by her offer. “Or maybe, you’d like to hire me yourself to take out whoever sent me,” the dark elf’s grin returned. This option would be the best for her. However, she didn’t think they could outbid the duke for her loyalty.
Grennith’s face was empty, his eyes cold. It was like trying to seduce a berserker. “Allow me to address your guesses, tell you why they are wrong.” Grennith said evenly, those dark eyes never moving away from hers. “I do not take pleasure in the defeat of another, so mocking you would be unfitting. I need not interrogate you, since who sent you doesn’t particularly matter, though I have my ideas already. I do not torture. Nor do I... ‘butter’ people.” Grennith leaned forward until their faces were almost touching. “And I have no need of... any... of your services,” he said finally. Letting it sink in, the weaponsmaster leaned back. “None of your guesses are correct. Have you no others?”
Sevrina lifted a silver eye brow at the swordsman as he shot down her theories. “Then perhaps you’re lying,” the dark elf shrugged. She dropped down to lay on her stomach, as her arms were getting sore. “Obviously, you can’t be seduced by my beauty,” she said with a smirk, batting her eyes playfully. “From what I’ve determined, you seem to be missing a little something. So, how about you enlighten me? Just why would you gamble on taking care of a complete stranger who tried to kill you?”
“Perhaps it has more to do with honor,” Grennith said, his voice soft with thought. “There are no excuses for wasting strikes on finality unless finality is necessary for peace.” They were the words of his teachers, one of the basic tenets of Grennith’s oath. “In this case, I do not think it is.” Reaching the rack, he traced a finger down to the hilt of the short sword and sheath that had brought Sevrina down the night before. “I spared your life because, as far as I am concerned, the assassin I fought is already dead, struck down in battle by my hand. What is left has the potential to be something else. Something better.” Grennith picked up the sword from the rack, balancing it on a fingertip. The weighting was perfect for throwing. “In you, I see me.”
Sevrina bit back the urge to laugh, but inside her mind, she was rolling in hysterics. He truly is an idealistic fool! To think that he could reform me, hah! The smirk tugged up the corner of her lips again. “What makes you think that?” she asked, hardly able to keep the humor from her voice.
“You are a murderer. So am I. Both of our purposes are essentially the same.” In his education, Grennith was taught never to think that they did anything better than the common criminal. It was drilled into him that, despite his morals, he was at best the destroyer of lives. “The difference between you and I is that I took victory. Why, then, despite your age, experience, abilities, and the advantage of making my sword arm too weak to use properly, did I win?”
You’re exceptionally skilled at direct confrontation, I was unprepared for such, and you have that irrepressible human tenacity, Sevrina thought, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. The dark elf laid back on her bed, propping herself up on her elbows. “Well, I think you already have your own answer, so why don’t you just tell me that?” she asked, smirking yet again.
Gren looked Sevrina over for a moment, as if lost in thought. “I do not have that answer. It is why I asked.” Grennith slowly drew the blade that he had used on her. The blade was flawless, mirroring the morning light across the sides of the old, brick walls. “At first I had thought you might simply have been less skilled or you had been unprepared for the situation. But now I wonder if there is not something more innate that made you lose.” Examining one of his many choice weapons, he hunted for blemishes that had long since disappeared. “I think I have said too much.” Driving the short sword into its sheath with practiced accuracy, he replaced it on the rack.
Sevrina relaxed, he wasn’t asking what she thought he was. “I’ll chalk it up to human tenacity. It’s one thing that I can accredit to your race,” Sevrina replied, voicing her thoughts from a moment earlier. “Though, more obviously, I would blame it on the fact that I came ill prepared for direct conflict, which I am not especially skilled at as it is, unlike you. Does that satisfy you?”
“Not entirely,” Grennith replied simply, devoid of frustration. “I have one last curiosity: your motivation.” Turning, the black-haired soldier approached her bed once more empty-handed. “The common assumption is that an assassin’s motivation to kill is money, but I cannot accept this. You could make money any number of ways, even in increments that you earn for your work. Neither, I’d imagine, could it be the challenge, as I doubt you often find yourself pitted against anyone who can put up such a fight as I did. So what motivates you to kill whoever you are instructed to, in blind command to the purse strings of your employer?”
“My dear, I don’t think you want to go there,” Sevrina said, her smirk returning again. The dark elf tapped her temple with a slender finger. “This mind is twisted and tainted by the goddess of destruction herself. Suffice it to say I really, truly, enjoy my work, and if I can make a lucrative living off of what I enjoy, all the better.”
“So you take in pleasure death?” Grennith nodded. “So be it. I’ve seen and heard similar. My instructor called them masturbatory killers. As you can imagine, he did not harbor much appreciation.” Grennith’s voice felt as soft as velvet, even in the midst of such a discussion. “Tell me: what is the most pleasing part? The suffering of the other? The satisfaction of destroying another’s power? And what would make the most pleasing kill?”
A smirk turned up Sevrina’s lips yet again. “The pleasure of having power over life and death, I suppose,” Sevrina said. “I have never thought much of it. There is a...morbid fascination with it as well.” The dark elf laid back and relaxed. Pressing the back of her head against the pillow, she felt the pain of the bruise on the back of her head and savored it for a moment. “Being skilled makes me feel more powerful. It has been a long time since someone has brought me down.”
Grennith nodded, his pale hands pulling back behind him. “If you could, describe for me the ideal act, the best you could hope for.”
Sevrina gave a chuckle. Betrayal, she thought, but she did not voice it. “There is no perfect kill. Unpredictability is half the thrill of it. Having my skills and my tactics challenged invigorates me,” the dark elf explained. “Unless I’m defeated,” she added with a bemused smirk.
“Interesting,” Grennith said after a moment. Approaching her slowly, Grennith stopped at the edge of her bed. “If that is what you want, then you truly are on the wrong side.” Grennith stared her straight in the eye. “The ultimate challenge does not come from quelling a man by the command of those in financial control. It comes from killing that which has no tangible form: power, influence, domination, and imperialism.” Leaning forward, bringing his face closer to hers, he continued. “That is what I do—what I take pleasure in. The death of each man I face is a step to a greater undoing, a greater killing. If you think about it,” he said quietly, pulling back, “we are not so different.”
Yet again, a smirk returned to Sevrina’s face as Grennith pulled himself face to face with her. Everything he was saying now was like music to her ears, it was a shame he was a eunuch. “If you were a complete man, I’d be pulling you into this bed with me right now,” the dark elf said, running her fingers along Grennith’s jawline. With a sigh of disappointment, Sevrina drew back. “I only make a career out of this so I can keep myself in check,” she said softly, vulnerably, as if she were at the mercy of this thirst for bloodshed.
“Perhaps simple, cold-blooded murder is not the only method with which that can take place,” Grennith said at last, letting the words fall where they were. “Consider this an offer. You may attempt to complete your contract and leave this place as if these words were never spoken. Or you can put at your bladepoint that which has never before been killed before and make the impossible very much achievable.” Grennith stood up straight and turned from the bed. “I will give you time to consider this, if you wish it. During that time, you shall be under my protection in this place.” Walking to the door, Grennith took only one of his swords, the short sword, leaving the rest behind. “I will food sent to you.” The blades were on purpose. If she took them and used them, she would have made her choice to remain an enemy. If she left them, Grennith would know for certain that she was ready to pursue something more than meaningless slaughter.
Sevrina laid back as Grennith stepped out. Well, what am I to do? she thought to herself. She wasn’t exactly inspired, she liked her life the way it was. However, she was curious to see how things would play out... There was something coming she believed, something big. For now, she’d relax and wait for it, wait for an opportunity—just what opportunity she was looking for though, she’d leave that to chance. She had no obligation to Spark really. The money meant nothing to her, her only obligation was to her own enjoyment. Grennith had certainly caught her interest though; it really was a shame that she couldn’t fully indulge that interest, but perhaps that would only make this endeavour more of a challenge.
Grennith left her for the better part of an hour to rest. In the meantime, he had addressed the Triumvirate’s leaders. Only Shale maintained a full support of Grennith’s choices, but in the end, no one could argue with the adamant command the weaponsmaster dealt in dealing with the assassin, for he had vowed to defend her no matter the cost. He made no attempt to explain why he chose as he did and none were happy about it. But they had no choice- no one could defeat Grennith in battle.
Gren was eager to return to his brick hovel. Just because the guards were still alive and no alarm had been sent did not mean anything about whether or not the assassin was still there. Shale was swift to advise on the matter, but Grennith was already aware. He pushed open the door mentally prepared, though he was fairly certain he had persuaded her to give him a chance.
Sevrina was not in the hut, however, though all of Grennith’s weapons were still in place. Her own daggers remained as well.
In actuality, the dark elf had snuck out of the camp to fetch her horse. She didn’t expect to leave her mount so long in the forest, and she feared the worst. Horses were one of her great loves in the world, but aside from that, the mare was packed with equipment. A horse was quite a luxury, and liability on Marmo, but Sevrina couldn’t find it in her heart to sell Shanna when she came back to the island. Her other reason for leaving was to test Grennith, to push buttons, test his trust. What would he think of finding her gone?
Much to her relief, when Sevrina returned to her ‘camp’ Shanna was intact, but as she approached, a dark elf slipped out from the trees. He was clad in drab clothing and carried both a bow and sword, but neither were drawn. {“Is this yours?”} he asked, a chastising tone to his voice as he addressed Sevrina.
{“Yes,”} Sevrina answered, caught off guard by his appearance. She wasn’t in much of a condition to fight, but dark elves were rarely thieves--at least, not when they lived amongst their people.
{“It’s not a good idea to leave your horse unattended. You’re lucky I found her last night,”} he replied, the frustration evident in his voice. He eyed Sevrina, but not in the way she was accustomed to. Obviously, he was trying to figure out who she was. {“I don’t recognize you...”}
{“I’m not from around here... or at least I haven’t been for quite some time,”} she replied, a smirk quirking up the corner of her lip. She was debating what to tell him if he asked for more already, plotting out her next move. {“Thank you for watching over my horse,”} she said and took the mare’s reins, already turning to leave.
{“Who are you?”} the ranger asked, as she expected.
Sevrina had settled on honesty, she doubted if there was any tribe-wide grudge against her for killing her father, if they even realized it was her. “Sevrina,” she replied. {“Tell Nezihiki her daughter is home.”}
* * *
Grennith placed the tray down. He knew the skills of assassins well enough, especially those of dark elven descent. They could remain undetectable through the use of spirits, but she was not here. Though spirits masked their presence in eye sight, he could identify their presence via the imprints in the earth or the movement of air caused by breathing. He was alone. Placing the tray at the side of Sevrina’s bed, the weaponsmaster looked around the room. Her things were still there. As were his weapons. If it was a trick, she had made the right decisions to lower his suspicion of her. A good enough assassin could get another arm or kill with their bare hands, so the possibility of her completing her contract was not out of the question. But the timing was all wrong. The camp was on high alert since her penetration and Shale was keeping high tabs on the activity within. He would know if she was hunting. If she knew Grennith had seen her coming the first time, what would make her think they would not preempt her again? No, it would be a fool’s errand to attempt again. Someone of her caliber would not make that mistake until she knew exactly how they had trapped her.
So Grennith waited. Ears and eyes attentive, he waited for the tell-tale signs of an dark-elven assassin to return, cloaked in their shadows.
Sevrina returned to camp, leading her horse. Those who guarded the encampment knew she was Grennith’s charge now, but they were still reluctant to let her go where she pleased. However, Sevrina was unarmed and seemed to have not ill intentions. She was still shadowed by some of the guards as she returned to Grennith’s hut. The door was open, obviously he had been there, and she had a sense that he was still in there. Dropping Shanna’s reins by the door, she left the horse, as it was trained not to wander from where she left it. She would have to secure some food and water for it, though. Sevrina stepped into the door, redressed in her leather, but no trace of aggression in her stance and no weapons on her person.
“I see you are up and moving,” Grennith said, his feminine voice genuinely pleased. “I have brought a meal for you. I trust no member of the Triumvirate provided you with any problems.”
“Thank you,” she said politely, and strode in to sit back down on her bed, crossing her long legs femininely. “No trouble,” she replied with a casual lilt to her voice as she took up the plate and began to eat rather delicately. She was disappointed by the lack of a reaction, but if she only knew what had been going on in Grennith’s mind, she would have found the amusement she was looking for.
“Good,” Grennith replied curtly. He had no intention of asking where she went or why. Toumas had been irate at the idea of housing the assassin, as well as allowing her to walk freely. Without a doubt, he ordered every man to keep an eye on her if they ever saw her. But neither could the charismatic archer go against the weaponsmaster; he held too much sway and, frankly, had already proven that he could, in fact, kill any one of them. “Have you considered my offer?”
Sevrina took her time chewing before she replied. “I’ll stick around,” she said just as casually as her entire manner had been upon return. “I have no personal obligation to my employer, and professionally, my career is rather wanton. I have no need for more wealth. Your offer piques my curiosity and offers me more than just more gold,” she explained, a smirk returning to her lips again before she continued to eat.
Grennith nodded, a smile creeping over his thin lips. “We won’t be staying here much longer. An empire cannot be disseminated from here.” Grennith returned to his blades, tracing a finger along the length of the largest, a two-handed sword. “A more careful, more personal, approach must be taken.”
“Mmm...I like the way you talk,” Sevrina purred, pausing in her eating as she watched him. Such a damn shame you’re a eunuch, she thought to herself. Just what am I going to do with you?
