Honestatum Timeat Verum - Aurelia and Varis

“Councilor?”

Aurelia looks up from the ordered chaos of her desk, glad for any distraction from the patchwork of reports and requests - some, especially those penned by Daring’s aristocrats, closer to demands.

“Yes Phillip?”

The young man steps quickly into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. In the months since he began assisting her, he has grown more confident, less awed by the woman he serves - at least outwardly. It had taken most of that time just to convince him to stop calling her “My Lady”. She had tried for simply “Aurelia” but, as with all political negotiations, they had been forced to compromise on “Councilor” - or “Councilor Archselon” if Phillip was feeling particularly formal.

The young man approaches her desk, dark hair neatly parted and grey tunic pristine.

“Grandmaster Nailo is outside. He’s asking to see you. He…”

Phillip hesitates until she gestures for him to continue.

“He doesn’t have an appointment, councilor.”

His tone is entirely too neutral. Aurelia suppresses a smile.

“It’s fine, Phillip. Send him in please. And would you bring us some tea?”

The young man gives a nod that somehow evokes a full bow.

“Of course, councillor.”

He turns and exits the room, leaving Aurelia to her thoughts. A slight frown wrinkles the seraphic porcelain of her brow. The Grandmaster seems to be visiting her with increasing frequency of late. And he seldom brings good news.

A few moments later, the door opens again and Phillip ushers in a severe figure in black military uniform. The Grandmaster looks to have aged a decade since she last saw him, though she knows in truth he is not much older than Phillip.

I suppose Hell will do that to a person.

Varis approaches the desk, greeting her with a curt nod and sitting at her gesture of invitation.

“Councilor Archselon. Thank you for seeing me.”

She smiles.

“Not at all, Grandmaster. I am pleased to see you up and about again. Now, what can I do for you today?”

Varis gives a tight smile - almost a wince - and draws a deep breath, choosing his words with uncharacteristic care.

“You will have heard, I’m sure, of the recent incident involving Ambassador Veluss. An unpleasant business, but, in short, our enemy has a capacity for infiltration we had not anticipated.”

He glances up at her to see if she has worked out where he’s going yet.

“You hold one of the Seals. One of the three. I would like to ask you a few questions, if I may, with the aid of some truth magics. I am willing to submit to any questions or arcane interrogation you might wish in return. I would also recommend we ask the rest of the council to undergo the same. I am sorry, for what it’s worth, that I must ask this thing of you, but I trust you see the necessity.”

He sits back, watching her intently. Aurelia's smile broadens, and she lets out a soft chuckle before catching herself.

"You fear a devil behind every face now?" Her eyes flicker back to him and there's a twitch, a remembrance of who she is speaking with, and her voice softens. "Understandable. I have no objection to the questions or the precautions. I cannot say the same for all of my co-councillors, but I will encourage them to be willing."

She leans forward, graceful smile settling into a polite but confident look. "But I think this is a fine time to learn more about one another. I will not resist the verification spell if you agree to do the same. We can trade questions, if this is amenable to you? After all, who questions the inquisitor? I can even make our talk more secure and free from prying eyes."

He gives a short nod, face grim.

“Agreed. Weave your enchantments and we will begin.”

Aurelia reaches into a desk drawer and pulls out what appear to be two plates - one of lead and one of glass. As she weaves a brief enchantment over them, the walls grew slightly hazy, some obscuration immediately surrounding the room. She nods.

"We are secure now."

The pale faced young man closes his eyes, muttering a few words and touching the first two fingers of his right hand to his lips. Aurelia feels a wave of energy wash over her, leaving behind a sense of arctic cleanliness that puts her in mind of snow and wintergreen. Varis opens his eyes.

“Are you Aurelia Archselon, councilor of Daring Heights?”

"Yes," she replies simply. "This could have been done by any divine servant in town - Sergeant Grimes would have been the most appropriate choice. Why did you decide that you must be the arbiter of this interrogation of the most powerful people in Daring Heights?"

He blinks, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Time. If you were an agent of the Vanguard, we had already placed the second seal in your hands. To ask another to take up this burden, I would first have had to establish whether I could trust the questioner. That was a delay I could not afford. Furthermore, you are an extraordinary individual. If you proved false, whoever I sent in my place would need to be able to subdue or perhaps even kill you. I am not confident Sergeant Grimes would be capable of that, and as such I was not willing to risk his life. Are you an agent of the Vanguard?”

"No," she answers just as simply. "Brave of you to risk yourself coming here then. What is your opinion of the Town Council of Daring Heights?" The questions fire back and forth without missing a beat.

“I think it is an imperfect solution to an intractable problem, but I do not know of a better one. Do you intend any ill to Daring or its people?”

"It sounds like we agree on that. Promising." Aurelia leans back in her chair, turning to look over her shoulder out the window - largely obscured by the spell she had cast, though the town was just still visible through it. "I intend no ill to befall Daring Heights nor any of its people beyond the criminal or the evil. Protecting it is my responsibility." Her eyes snap back to Varis' face. "So my next question, where does the Order of the Crimson Fist sit in your mind in relation to Daring Heights, politically and strategically?"

“We are Daring’s protectors” he answers simply. “There are limits to what the watch or the army can do. They are bound by political considerations. We are not. Where is the second seal?”

"Bound by one man’s will instead - another imperfect solution perhaps. The second seal is as secure as we can make it inside Fort Daring. More than that would be imprudent to share. How are you faring, mentally, after your residency in the Lower Planes?” Only a slight twitch of the eyes betray a note of genuine concern on her otherwise stern and calculating face.

The Grandmaster goes very still, his breathing slowing. He is silent for a long time, eyes fixed on the desk in front of him, then finally he looks up and meets her gaze. His voice is rigid.

“I am fit for duty. Do you doubt the loyalty of any among the council?”

"An understandable answer, though as telling for you as it is for me, Grandmaster," Aurelia says, not unkindly. "The loyalty of the council members to Daring Heights… let's see… Cordelia, Coll and Cecil, Thundercog, Samed, Rholor, myself of course, even Lady Underwood can be relied upon in my experience to put the town's needs ahead of their own. The Auber's own many of the local farms so their interests and the town's generally align, same with Geoffrey and the merchants. So no, I do not believe any to be disloyal in any significant sense. As part of your protection, do you conduct surveillance on any citizen of Daring Heights or its environs?"

“It’s surroundings, yes - particularly the known entrances to the World Below. I do not actively surveil any citizen - we are soldiers, not spies.”

He is quiet for a moment, expression troubled.

“Do you trust me?”

The expression he receives back is High Aasimar - smooth, placid, unreadable. “Varis,” she begins. “I trust that you will always do what you think is right. You called the Council an imperfect solution. You set up a military order on the outskirts of this small town answerable only to you with that opinion in mind. I trust that you will be trustworthy to the hilt, right up until you decide that you have found a better solution, regardless of what you think now.”

She goes to stand, and then relaxes, leaning back in her chair again. “You know, Willum did the same thing you did - selling his soul to a higher power, in his case for the promise of protection for the town - and funnily enough, he too thought that it was a debt that could be resolved before it was ever called upon. A mistake that cost him his freedom, much of his health and I suspect a not unreasonable portion of the sanity of my oldest friend. I trust this sounds familiar.”

Varis does not respond, eyes locked on her face.

“You came here wondering if I was not the person you thought I was, and a simple spell and your first question resolved that. I have the same questions about you - because no one goes through the horrors that you have endured and remains the same, and as the leader of the greatest military power within a five day ride of this city I would be remiss if I didn’t have some concerns as to just who came back.” Her hands are pressed hard onto the desk in front of her, and she breathes heavily. It is unquestionably the most passionate Varis has ever seen her. She sighs. “And no spell will confirm that for me. This interview was an excellent idea, but I have far more that I would ask you than you of me. The answer to your question Varis, is ‘more or less’. I trust who you are now, but have concerns about the power wielded by a man who’s only prepared to say that he is ‘fit for duty’ through gritted teeth, someone who thinks that if push comes to shove he could assassinate one of the most powerful mages in the city. Whatever problem you were trying to solve when you created it, I think the Order is an imperfect solution.”

The councillor pauses, taking another long breath, her eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Varis. You do not deserve half of what you have suffered, and I recognise that it has largely been on behalf of Daring Heights. I suppose it’s only fair to give you the same question in return: Do you trust me? I am not a unilateral power, but the question stands.”

As the tide of words crashes over him, she sees the young man begin to founder, and finally break, breath leaving him in a rush and shoulders slumping. It is a long time before he can bring himself to speak.

“I have a hard time trusting anyone these days.”

His voice is soft, tinged with self recrimination. He clears his throat, forcing himself to look at her.

“You are right, or course. The Order is imperfect. I have been so focussed on what we do, I did not pay enough attention to what we are. Too much hinges on me, and it must become more than that. More than me. When I fell-” the words catch in his throat for a moment, but he takes a breath to steady himself and continues. “When I fell, they were adrift. They are loyal, and brave, and good - they have the best interests of Daring and it’s people at heart - but there are no true leaders among them.”

He shakes his head ruefully.

“Reloseer nha tel za'af ath tel Cor'Quessir.”*

Aurelia gives a quiet chuckle of recognition, receiving a rare flash of a smile in return.

“You speak of what I have suffered, and you are right. My father’s people have a saying - Avae'mhaor nha tel'akh'velahrn lia. Suffering is the soldier’s mistress. I have known many defeats, and many fruitless victories, and in truth I am not the man I once was. The things I have endured have changed me. But I would face them all again and more to protect this place. I do not doubt I will have the chance - there is no peace for men like me, and war is a mother who eats her young. But that is what I mean when I say I am fit to serve - not that I am whole, or well, or as strong as I once was. But that I still possess the will to fight, to suffer and to die. For them.” He gestures to the darkened window behind her.

There is a soft knock at the door and a moment later Phillip enters with a silver tray bearing tea and a small selection of dainties. Between one blink and the next, Aurelia watches the young man before her transform, retreating once more behind the unreadable mask, slumped shoulders snapping into stiff military formality. He gives her a half smile as Phillip sets the tray down and begins pouring tea, excusing himself wordlessly once done.

“Thank you for your indulgence, councilor. I am satisfied. If you have no further questions, I will leave you to your work.”

He stands, giving her a nod as he turns toward the door.

"Grandmaster," Aurelia calls, stepping around her desk to walk up beside him. "I believe we discussed it may be easier to conduct the rest of your interviews with my assistance, if you would be willing." She offers him her arm.

He turns to look at her, hesitating for a moment before rejoining her and taking her arm.

As she turns back to face the door next to him, she pauses. "Varis," and as she glances over at the knight her face also shifts subtly, revealing features only a few years older than he. "We don't always get to choose the weight of the responsibilities we bear, do we? But, we know our duties," the mask slips back on and she straightens. "None of us are who we were a few years ago, and all we can do is our best. Now I believe the closest councillors are behind the bar at the Ettin. May I?"