[Season 9] Three Knights Game - Jaezred/Delilah/Imryll

Co-written with Delilah Daybreaker and Anthony.

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(Following the events of Can You D.I.G. It?)

The temple bells are tolling for midnight.

Right on the peal of the first bell, a precise series of knocks is heard on the door to Jaezred Vandree’s private room at the Four Fair Winds. The drow finishes making the four-poster bed again and turns his head to the spring eladrin woman standing on the other side of it, in the process of putting her robes back on. “Ah. Our little shadowy friend is here, dearest.”

“Well, let’s not keep her waiting!” Imryll says.

He takes a moment to breathe in deeply, before striding towards the door.

When he opens it, a six foot-tall masked figure stands in the darkness of the hallway, the outline of their body lit only by the dim candlelight coming from inside the room. Every inch of them is cloaked in a long, hooded robe black as night and speckled with stardust, and the voice that comes through the mask sounds genderless and nondescript as it says, after a beat, “Good evening.”

“Miss Delilah!” Jaezred greets them cheerfully, opening the door wider and stepping aside so they can slip past him into the room. “Please, come in. Ah, my associate Lady Imryll is here with me — you have already been acquainted, have you not?”

Imryll is behind him, pouring wine into three glasses and beaming at their guest. “I believe we have, yes.”

There is a twitch from the dark folds of Tinuviel’s cloak. After another beat, they step inside, the shadow draped opening of the hood staying turned towards Jaezred for a moment longer than might be comfortable before creating a distance between themselves and the pair.

“If you are to use my other name, Lord Jaezred, I would request that you do so where others cannot hear it,” they say.

Touchy. Undaunted, he retains the smile on his face as the door swings shut. Turning his head away from Tinuviel briefly, he casts the message cantrip, an index finger on the glass going up to point at Imryll, and whispers: “I wonder if she’s that averse to being found by Oziah.”

There is no response from Imryll other than a smirk of acknowledgement. She passes him a glass and offers Tinuviel another. The hooded head inclines towards her and they take the glass, but do not drink from it.

“Oh don’t worry, her ladyship only ever poisons me,” says Jaezred.

“Well… mostly. But I understand there may be some hesitance, so I won’t be offended if you’d rather not drink,” says Imryll, sitting down to lounge in one of the chairs by a round table and taking a long sip from her own glass.

They set the glass down on the table with a firm clink before circling around the room to carefully inspect the shut windows and drawn curtains. “I do not wish to be rude, Lady Imryll. I know your associations, and I am sure the wine tastes delicious — amongst other things.”

With the last curtain inspected, they turn around to scan the room once more. Seeing nothing to give concern, they finally lower the hood. The figure’s height shrinks down to five feet and Delilah’s pale, still-masked face, framed by chin-length, jet-black hair and straight bangs, is revealed, fixing Jaezred with a glare sharp as a vicious dagger. She then schools her expression into a neutral one and leans against the wall by the window, arms tucked underneath her star-shifting cloak.

“So. What shall we three speak on? The Outlaw? The Fugitive? Or perhaps things of a more personal matter?” Delilah’s dark eyes flick between the two. “How long have you two been fucking? Since the first time I met you, Lady Imryll? Or was it after he bought you that dress from D’Avalon?”

She cocks an eyebrow and continues to smile. “Somewhere in between the two… Had I known you would be so interested, though, I would have sent you an invite much sooner, dear.”

“Oh no, I’d rather not, dearest. I’m really not interested in her that way, though apparently my close friend is,” Jaezred chimes in as he sits down. “We’re here to talk about everyone’s favourite duo.”

“Shame… might have been a fun few hours. But yes, we can talk pleasures later.”

There is a small, humourless chuckle from behind the mask but the dark eyes stay cautious. “If getting involved in my personal business is your aim, then we are done here and now.” Delilah moves towards the windows.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who started asking invasive questions. If you’d like to keep it professional, I suggest you start doing it yourself,” Jaezred shoots back with a smirk. Turning to his lover, he murmurs, just loud enough for Delilah to hear, “Can dish it but can’t take it.”

“Now, now, play nice…”

The Pale Daughter stops, body coiling as if to strike as she faces him. “I prefer to cut right to the chase. You said to meet you, and I have. You did not say there would be another person here with us.” She looks at Imryll. “As fun as it might be to get to know you better.”

“I didn’t say there wouldn’t be another person,” he replies nonchalantly, taking a sip of wine. However, the look on his face turns serious quickly enough. “But yes, let’s cut to the chase. As I said, we don’t have much time left. I have information. You have information. Let’s share.”

Letting her stance ease a bit, the half-elf slowly leans back against the wall once again. She gestures for him to go on.

“Tell you what — as a gesture of goodwill, I’ll allow you to ask any questions you have first. Non-personal questions, that is.”

“Unless… you let me ask personal questions too,” Imryll playfully adds.

Delilah nods and thinks for a moment. She looks between the two elves before settling on Jaezred.

“I can understand how you might have gotten involved, initially, in finding out what the Fugitive and the Outlaw are up to. But why do you continue to do so?”

“I prefer to see things to the end. From the very beginning, I’ve just been helping her,” he says, waving his glass at Imryll. It is a plain and honest answer. “I don’t harbour a grudge against either of them like our mutual friend does, if that’s what you’re asking. Whilst what they did to Faust Greyheart was… regrettable, the old man was nearing the end of his life anyway. That he does not wish to return must mean he’s found a happy afterlife.”

“Do you care about what happens? The outcome?”

“I care to see that this piece of land on which I currently live is no longer terrorised by these idiots, yes.”

“Hmm,” Delilah intones. She turns to Imryll. “And you, my lady? The Moonweaver has a lot on her plate since her Ascension. Are you the driving force for the witches to find and stop them? Or is there some other reason you have your lover sticking his neck out for you?”

“Oh, I assure you this handsome oaf is quite capable of getting himself into trouble without my intervention. But no, I am not the only one looking. The Moonweaver is busy, as you said, but not unaware of the trouble they might wreak if left unchecked.”

“Oh, so you think I’m handsome?” He flashes Imryll a mischievous grin. She winks back at him before turning her gaze back to Delilah.

“Any other burning questions?”

“A few, but they can wait.”

“I believe that would be your cue to ask a question now,” she whispers to Jaezred, clearly audible enough for everyone to hear. Delilah rolls her eyes.

“Wow, I hadn’t noticed, thanks,” he whispers back, just as loudly. Then he assumes a serious demeanour again as he addresses Delilah. “Well, we have told you why we’re after those two. What about yourself?”

Somehow, she manages to look down her nose at him even though she doesn’t move her head. “Whilst some may think it was once safe to let things be, I know how dangerous someone can be when driven by a thirst for power.”

He gives her a polite, but knowing, smile. “Thank you for answering my question,” he says. “However, our respective motivations in this quest is of little consequence to me, personally, at this stage. Now… what I’d like to know is what you were doing in Gadenthor on the fourth day of Marpenoth. You went to that ruined city with a party of adventurers and encountered Jack, correct? Or rather, a simulacrum of him.”

“On the contrary. We just came back from a mission in which the whole point was finding out more about Farstep, who he is and what motivates him. I say it matters greatly.”

“Well, agree to disagree.” Of course, he would not be saying this if he was not already secure in his knowledge of where the bratty little assassin’s allegiances lie. But he wouldn’t let her know that.

“As for what I was doing in Gadenthor, you heard correctly,” Delilah continues, her voice taking on an emotionless tone. “We encountered a simulacrum of Jack whilst on an assignment. The job was to assist a joint venture with the local factions of Harnash. Some of the delvers and archa-netherils had gone to a forge and were never seen again. Considering the golem we faced inside, they were more than likely killed.” She pauses before adding, “It was a mechanical golem, crab-like and gigantic.”

“Did you find out what the simulacrum was doing there and how long it had been there?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing definite. The mechanical engineer that had kept the forge running for over a millennia had been torn up into twisted pieces, which we determined was the simulacrum’s doing. I think you can surmise the rest.”

“Interesting,” says Jaezred. “What exactly was the purpose of the forge?”

“To build golems for the Netherese, I’d imagine.” She shrugs and starts casually examining her nails. “With no one there to tell it to stop — until Jack’s simulacrum showed up, at least — it continued on, trying to fulfil its raison d’être.”

He rubs his chin, his thoughts dwelling on that for a moment. “Very well. So, you and a few other adventurers delved into a Netherese ruin and ran into a Jack simulacrum who’s been sent there, dispatched it and a crab golem, and then went on your merry way,” he says, summarising the tale. “But whilst the rest of the party was rewarded with gold, you were rewarded with information. What was that information, exactly? Of course, you need not answer if it’s unrelated to the problem at hand.”

“Before I do, perhaps you can tell me a few things.” Her eyes swallow the firelight in their dark depths, almost like a void. “Have you faced Farstep or Jack yourself? Or is all the information you’ve gathered from other people like your cousin and Oziah?”

“Not in recent weeks. Last time I saw either of them was on the eighteenth day of Marpenoth, the day Mr. Greyheart died.”

“So you saw Farstep kill him?”

“No. I was busy fighting Jack in Mechanus. Perhaps you’ve heard — they laid two separate traps for us adventurers on the same day.”

“Interesting. Was that Jack a simulacrum or the real deal?”

“We never found out. But I’d bet on it being a simulacrum.”

“Hmmm.” Delilah seems to think for a moment before taking a step towards the two lounging in their chairs. She reaches into a pouch on her belt and takes something out from it. “As Oziah undoubtedly told you, yes, I was rewarded information — the research that was held hostage by the scholar who had been assisting me. I was looking into the artefact I saw Jack take from the body of a dead Primus when we fought against Cadence in Mechanus. This was back in Eleasis, as you know.”

Jaezred’s crimson eyes light up. “The containment seal,” he says, throwing a quick glance at Imryll beside him before looking back at Delilah, who comes to a stop in front of them, holding out a hand. Resting in the centre of her open palm is a small scroll of parchment.

Jaezred’s own hand reaches for the scroll, but stops mid-air. His eyes look up at Delilah and his head tilts slightly to one side. “Are you giving it to me?”

There is the glint of steel in her eyes as she looks down at him. “I am, on three conditions.”

He slowly retracts his hand and leans back into his chair, giving her a look that beckons for her to continue.

“When you share what you know, I would have you tell me everything, even your suspicions.”

“Oh, you’d like to hear my theories, too? Very well.”

She nods, the hand offering the scroll unmoving. “Anything you know, or think you might know about me — I want to hear it, all of it.”

He raises a brow, then looks at Imryll, who up until now had been observing the delicious little exchange in silence, slowly swirling the red in her glass with a sweet smile upon her lips. She is thoroughly enjoying this.

“Well, it’s your deal to make, dear,” she says.

“Fine,” Jaezred says, relenting. “And the third condition?”

When the Pale Daughter looks into his eyes, it feels as if the shadows are looking at him too.

“Our interests may be aligned at the moment, but that does not give you a free pass to do what you please. Stay out of my affairs. If I find you meddling in them, you will regret it.”

Both Jaezred and Imryll burst out laughing.

“You seriously overestimate my interest in you. I don’t give a shit about whatever it is you do in your time as long as it doesn’t interfere with my life. So yes, you can have this one, too,” he finally says after the wheezing and giggling between the two of them die down. It feels like he’s just been given material to tease her with until the end of her days, but he wisely bites his tongue for risk of her storming out.

Delilah stares at him through his outburst, eyes cold as the dark, form still as stone. “Your word given, I will hold you to them, Lord Jaezred Vandree… Chosen of Lolth.”

She waits for him to take the scroll. And he does, picking it up between his thumb and forefinger and turning it around in the candlelight. There is a cold, triumphant look in his eyes, like a spider that has just sensed prey thrashing desperately in its web.

“So then, for the second condition,” he says.

The sorcerer sits back and puts his hand on Imryll’s, his thumb absently stroking the back of her hand as he considers his next words.

“I didn’t notice until recently, but you really do speak like someone from the Feywild, or at least someone who’s been there for a while. ‘The Moonweaver’, ‘The Fugitive’… people from the Material Plane don’t typically call them that.

“I know you work for Miandra to some extent, in some capacity, most likely as a spy. That works in your favour here, because firstly, Nicnevin and Miandra are allies; and secondly, Miandra is very intelligent and very paranoid, meaning she’s probably vetted every inch of your background, counted every hair on your body until she’s sure you’re absolutely loyal to her.

“I don’t know what you’re currently running and hiding from, but whatever it is, it’s got you scared. And more on edge than usual. To the point where you feel the need to completely disguise yourself and assume a new alias. That sort of fear can only be felt by someone who’s haunted by their past.

“Oh, and how could I forget? You have a knife fetish and a pet cat and you like the colour black! Or…” Jaezred knits his brow and gives her an appraising look. “Don’t tell me — are you secretly a fan of hot pink?”

Imryll giggles at that. He grins and rolls the small scroll deftly between his fingers. “That’s all I know. Satisfied?”

Delilah’s expression betrays nothing as she looks him up and down. Then she nods.

“I appreciate your candor. You really do get off on appearing to know more about others.” She softly shakes her head in disgust.

“Miss Delilah, I’m the local gossip! It’s just what I do.”

Now that she seems somewhat placated, he unrolls the scroll to read it and Imryll leans over his shoulder to peer at it. The text was written in precise squiggles, symbols, and mixed letters from the alphabets of different languages in nonsense words. He recognises Elvish script, but the rest he could not read — probably Draconic or something similar and some kind of cryptolect. He glances up at Imryll with raised eyebrows.

“Did you really think I would have it be an easy read?” Delilah looks to Imryll. “Does the lady wish to try?”

“I mean, it would be, if I had a scroll of comprehend languages,” says Jaezred.

“But you don’t. Alas, such a shame your magic is not endless and thus cannot do everything for you.”

“Oh, but I just said it can. Casting from scrolls is merely an extension of my magical abilities.” He gives her a wry smile and folds his arms. “If my dearest here can’t decode it tonight, I’ll just wait until tomorrow. But that means you won’t get to know what I know until then, too.”

The amused expression on Imryll’s face fades away as she audibly sighs, leaning down into her seat again. “Yes, very clever. However, this is teetering on silly now. Delilah, you are well aware I could have this decoded with relative ease… And dear, goading the person offering you information is quite fun, but do remember they are helping you… Perhaps we can stop with these silly games, finally, of trying one up each other. It really took long enough to arrange this meeting and, quite frankly, I do have other things to do.”

“Like me?” Jaezred quips.

She chuckles and strokes his face with one hand. “Later. But for now, we are all aware of how clever everyone is. Perhaps we can stop this game and Delilah can just tell us what’s on this rather than wasting more time… Gods, even Miandra isn’t so difficult to work with.”

“Forgive my unnecessary caution,” she says, her voice flat.

She takes the scroll back from Jaezred and puts it to a nearby candle. They might think her overzealous with her caution but after recent events Delilah could not, would not risk what she knows falling into the wrong hands. Even those who work for the witches.

“Jack was the highest level of modrons — it is the only way he could have known about the seal,” Delilah begins, watching the parchment burn up quickly in the small flame. Seeing it reduced to ash, she slowly begins pacing around the room, keeping clear of the windows so her voice doesn’t carry. “Gnomish in design, it is a planar gyroscope or stabiliser, something to be put into a larger device or machine, that helps with planar stability.”

Jaezred suddenly sits upright and his head swivels towards Imryll with widened eyes. “That’s a lot closer to the sands than we originally thought. I told you that horrendous woman was missing something!” he exclaims.

“Patience, dear… Let her talk. What else?”

Delilah raises a brow but continues, “I have been thinking on Jack’s history, his imprisonment, and how he could know about such devices in, what essentially is, a god.



“I have a theory which is more speculation than based on any actual fact. Before he was Sarastra’s fool, it’s possible Jack helped maintain the body of Primus Secundus in some capacity — essentially, the highest and closest to Order one can be without being a god himself. That’s how he knew about the seal. Though how Primus Secundus perished, I am not sure. It’s hard to find out much about Mechanus.” She comes to a stop with her pacing. “Based off of what we have learned about Farstep today, and tracking what Jack has been up to recently I think… they may be trying to find a way to become a god themselves somehow.”

“Interesting. Is there anything else you have leading to that assumption?” Imryll asks.

“I heard Jack stole metals used in the making of planar tuning forks from the smithy here in Daring, for one. Those are precious, valuable. The fact that he destroyed the golem engineer at the Forge of Tomorrow in Gadenthor — an ancient Netherese city with powerful and unknown magic — so none of us could find out if it had built anything else after the mechanical crab monstrosity is suspicious enough. Then there is Langston’s desire to ‘be free’. His attempt to become a true fey failed miserably, which meant he had to find another way. Who better to partner with than someone who was the personal pet of the Fey Ascendant for years, has a brilliant but mad intellect, and who was one of the highest ranking modrons in Mechanus once upon a time?” Delilah looks at Jaezred. “This is what I have, my facts and theories based on what I have seen and what I have researched. I am thinking of returning to the Academy tomorrow to try to find out more about the seal.”

Jaezred, however, is off in his own world, only half-listening to Delilah’s speech, though it makes some vague sense to him. His thoughts are fixated on that phrase — “planar stability”. Things are slowly falling into place before his mind’s eye. Imryll herself is quiet for a moment after Delilah finishes explaining her reasoning.

“Hmmm, well, I had a few other questions for you — ones you had missed to ask, dear,” she says, casting a glance at him. “But that does answer them… Do either of you know where the gods get their powers from at all?”

“Worship,” he mutters, still staring off to the side with folded arms.

“Sacrifice,” Delilah answers at the same time in a hollow voice, watching the witch intently.

“Indeed, to both of those. However, more specifically, I’ve heard it as belief. The more people believe in something, the more power that something has. Now, that doesn’t quite fit the model Delilah is making here but I can’t fault the thought process… Langston is an extremely driven man and was clearly looking for power when he took part in the Amaranthine Games. Someone like that is not likely to give up on such a lofty goal… Then Jack, despite being quite mad, is a genius and capable of great things. It stands to reason he might be easily manipulated somehow by Langston or, indeed, have his own similar ambitions. He took part in the Amaranthine himself for freedom, as I understand it. Sarastra, for all the good people speak of her, was really quite cruel in her capture of him.”

She quickly finishes her drink and stands up, and starts to pace around the room herself.

“Now, I’m not surprised at the containment seal or ‘planar gyroscope’”—she nods to Delilah—“being a stabilising device as it does match the description of the sand we acquired, as Lord Jaezred here has already mentioned… I do feel, however, your research is likely to fall short of much in the way of grounded leads, as it were. You have already correctly surmised that it needs to be part of something else and having one part is, unfortunately, not very indicative of the whole, in this case. Do, of course, carry out your research though, darling, those skittish scholars might find something useful in all their books. Just try to look a little less imposing on them when you do, you might scare them silly…”

The eladrin scoops up the untouched glass of wine meant for Delilah and stops pacing. She stares off into space, deep in thought, as she sips the drink. “The question is… what could they build that would let them reach their goal? And what would need so much planar stabilisation for that matter? Something is still missing here…”

At this point, Jaezred stands up. “Let me show you what I was talking about,” he says to Delilah.

He walks over to the writing desk to fetch a black pouch, a small pot of pounce powder, and a magnifying glass. He sets the pot down on the cushion of the chair Delilah declined to sit on and offers the magnifying glass to her.

“Watch.”

Pulling the pouch open, his fingers reach in to extract a pinch of what appear to be dark sands and put it on the arm of the chair. Then he takes a pinch of the light-coloured pounce and sprinkles it on the sands. Gradually, the pounce turns into the same colour and texture as the sands.

“This was acquired in an Underdark dungeon a pair of simulacra had been trying to get into for about a month. It was found in a room where a portal orb to the Abyss is stored. It is believed these sands — which are actually small, metal shavings as you can see — kept the orb’s chaotic energy inert and stable. Jack and Farstep stole a whole chest of it,” he explains.

Delilah’s dark eyes widen, fascinated. She suddenly looks up at him. “Do you think they’ll use this to stabilise the Orb? Finally making it a viable power source for something like—”

“I’m not sure that would work. These stabilise planar energy, their orb is filled with souls,” Imryll points out.

Jaezred turns back to Delilah. “Earlier today, you implied that someone must have taught Farstep how to use the Orb of Souls properly. Who did you have in mind?”

He already has an answer in mind, but he needs to hear someone else say it. To confirm it, to make sure he’s not going crazy.

“I am only guessing, but… it could be the mad modron himself,” she says quietly. It is the first time Delilah has sounded uncertain and her expression is weary, not of the two before her but for the hesitancy she feels — a fear of her guess being right, perhaps?

He shakes his head. “He used the Orb of Souls to free Jack — to cast the mass modify memory on the Crystal Palace. It has to be someone before him. Do you think he may be working with or may have worked with the Queen of Air and Darkness?”

Delilah does her best to cover the flinch that wracks through her by picking up a pinch of the dark sand between her fingers, holding it closer under the magnifying glass. Thankfully, it seems to have gone unnoticed by Jaezred. She takes a slow, deep breath.

“…It could be possible, yes. She did almost succeed in her takeover four months ago. I, myself, was not there, but I heard of it…”

Jaezred nods, though his face remains doubtful, the façade of confidence now gone. He turns on his heel and walks back towards the writing desk, and proceeds to rummage through it, tossing away several rolls of parchment and miscellaneous personal effects from the drawers. After a while, he pulls out a large, map-sized parchment sheet and unfolds it on the desk.

“Come here, you two,” he calls out over his shoulder.



A chronological record of the activities and movements of both Langston Farstep and Jack, drawn with neat lines and written in an elegant hand in Elvish, is laid out before the three of them.





Delilah pores over the parchment, studying the timeline and events, eyes moving quickly across the page. She taps on the entry under 25th Eleasis, the odd one out due to its lack of apparent connection to Langston and/or Jack. Precisely the one Jaezred wants them to look at. “How did you hear of this one? Were you the one to witness these events?” she asks.

“I… I heard it from one of my sources. I didn’t take notes, for we had but a whiff of a conspiracy being hatched at the time, but I’ve been thinking about it again recently, with all these things about planes and planar stability…” His brows are deeply furrowed. “I’m not even sure about this. I may be completely off-base.”

She notices the hesitation and her eyes narrow. “Are you hiding anything from me, Vandree?”

“No. Why would I do that now?” he huffs, a little frustrated. “I’m truly not sure about this at all.”

“Then perhaps we should speak to your source directly. Hear the tale first hand from them so we may ask more detailed questions, instead of the middleman,” Delilah suggests.

“Of course. I should ask them again. It’s been a while, though, hopefully they remember the details…” he sighs.

“Who else was there? In case your source is… indisposed.”

He rubs his chin furtively, his gaze roaming around the room as he tries very hard to recall. “Uhh… I do believe… that halfling Princess of Summer was mentioned. The one who got her own court recently. I have to ask my source for the full list of names, I don’t think they mentioned that to me.”

She tilts her head, eyes going distant for a moment. “Curious… I wonder if she has the time to answer a few questions.”

From behind the two of them, Imryll’s voice speaks up: “Aww, this is very touching. The kids are finally playing together.”

“Not now, dearest. What do you think? Am I going insane? I think I might be going insane.”

“What do I think? Well…



“I think the two of you might be onto something. Now, Delilah, I appreciate the need for secrecy and your affairs — however delicious they may be — are still your own. I would, however, suggest that despite who you may work for or whatever your own agenda is, you would do well to be a tad more trusting of your colleagues here. Not without due precaution, of course. I know you are not completely foolish, but information is a powerful weapon and sometimes that means playing nice with others to get it. The same goes for you, dear, too. Secretive as she may have started, Delilah is right in her suggestion, your source is a helpful one but it’s key to know their limits and sometimes, well… you just have to get your hands dirty yourself.

“Espionage lessons aside, our duo of megalomaniacs clearly have lofty goals and I can’t deny dear Delilah’s guess at godhood… or something akin to it, anyway. It’s perhaps not as far as I had imagined they would be aiming, but is definitely within the same wheelhouse of our own thinking. The question there, though, is the how. If that really is the case and the normal method is through belief, then there is clearly someone or something missing. Despite however many simulacra they make, I doubt their own egos would be enough to elevate them to that level. If it was, I would have become a goddess myself already.” She laughs a little, clearly enjoying herself in spite of the seriousness of the discussion.

“Now, Lord Jaezred, the Queen of Air and Darkness could be involved somehow, though her efforts so far have been about sowing chaos. While these two clowns ascending to such power would indeed be one hell of a mess, it does make me wonder at her level of involvement. Maybe a player, but at her own game? Who knows, she is almost as infuriating to handle as Ulorian in her own way. Even if she were, the issue then becomes how do we even manage to rein her in; we are still rooting out Unseelie from the courts as it is. No, I think someone else might be a bigger player here… It still, unfortunately, boils down to the who and the how. As for our newest and quaintest noble, she is still rather new to her position. If Delilah has the inclination to ask her some questions — non-violent ones, I might add; she may be new, but she still has an entire court at her disposal — then I’d say it’s worth trying.

“I think… I need to go and speak with our dear Queen of Cunning again. The only piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite fit so far for me is this mention of an ‘anchor’… and if they are after such vast amounts of stabilising material, then whatever they are building might have something to do with that.” She glances at Delilah. “Sorry dear, there was mention of an ‘anchor’ a while back, but it was unfortunately rather vague and incomplete in its description. More just a single reference, really, but odd enough that it stood out. With all the talk of stabilising materials, it was suggested it could refer to the same materials, but I am starting to wonder — perhaps it is not.”

“The sands — Jack referred to them as an ‘anchor’,” Jaezred says.

“He did, but I feel that may have been a metaphor for their use. The reference we had seemed… different? But I suppose that’s what we need to establish, dear…” Imryll says. “What if our dynamic duo are building something dangerous with the aim of de-stabilising something? Something specific, of course, otherwise why would they worry about stabilising their own machine? What do you stand to gain by that, though? That would only sow chaos and wouldn’t grant them any more power, unless someone else is involved. But then that person would need to either be incredibly secretive to avoid detection until now… or they don’t know they are involved…”

“That…” Delilah, already pale as she is, goes stark white, the shadows at her feet twitching. “That fits. Ceres said Farstep does not want to be chained down by anyone or anything. If there are no borders between the planes, even between mortal realms and the gods then…”

“That’s what I was thinking. What is the greatest constraint but the borders between the worlds, something not even the most powerful spells could penetrate?” he adds.

“Ah yes, but the gods are much more powerful than us mere mortals, my dear. If they were to try that specifically, they would not last long against such unbridled power.”

“They have already proven they can wipe the memories from an entire fey palace,” Delilah continues. “Who’s to say they couldn’t do it to a single individual if they are constantly in—”

The shadows beneath her feet freeze as she stops talking.

“Archselon.”

Imryll cocks an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting Aurelia is behind this? Certainly not the way I would have imagined it… Besides, they have already manipulated her into gaining help from the adventurers. If she were involved, seems like a needlessly dangerous move to make.”

“I… am not sure. I don’t know the councilwoman that well, but she’s a powerful mage who’s known for her manipulation of portals and the planes. Could she be an unwitting accomplice? It’s possible.” Delilah starts to pace again, thinking. “Who else do we know who would be powerful enough to help Farstep and Jack, either knowingly or otherwise?”

“Perhaps… That said, even that line of thought seems… pointless? Not to be rude, dear, you really have shone tonight, but the pair are already travelling via portals. I think she is small game for them, especially since Langston’s last effort was fey ascension.”

“Farstep is said to possess a ring that allows him to travel freely between the planes,” Jaezred says as he nods in agreement with his paramour, his eyes tracking the ladies who seem to be endlessly pacing around in his room.

Delilah gives Imryll a small nod of thanks for her compliment. “It might surprise you both but magic is not my forté. But people… that’s something I excel with.” Imryll shoots her an appreciative smirk at that.

“RIGHT!” Imryll claps her hands like a teacher trying to get her students’ attention. “The two of you really are doing so well and at least seem to be on the same page now. You really do make a good team, you should do this more often… but it’s quite clear that time is running short on whatever agenda those two have cooked up. Delilah, do keep continue digging and try not to be so secretive next time we meet. I cannot wait to peel back all of your layers…”

Delilah smirks. “You can certainly try, Lady, but you may not like what you find. I’m not as delicious and soft as this one here, I can assure you,” she replies, nodding at Jaezred.

“Oh, I don’t know about that… I’m sure I could find many sharp edges we could have fun with.” Imryll turns towards Jaezred. “Lord Jaezred, you already have your sources running around, but do play nice with Delilah in the meantime. And I fully expect a detailed account of your… next arrangement since it seems I am going to miss it now. I shall go and see our Cunning Queen and see how I can help her out over there.”

She turns back to Delilah. “Now, I have made no such promise to you about your affairs as our illustrious friend here has, and will take great pleasure in every juicy detail, but… I recognise a fellow professional when I see one, so, while we are working together, if there is anything you need from me, do feel free to speak to my assistant here.” She indicates to Jaezred. “Before I go though, is there anything else you need?”

“Again, I need a raise,” he says. “Also, do you really need to go now?”

“If they really are aiming as high as godhood, it begs the question of how they will get that. To be quite frank, dear, I can’t imagine a single pleasant way they would, so, for now — yes, I’m afraid so… Don’t worry, I will make time for our dinner,” she reassures him, a smirk sealing the promise.

He nods, looking tired now, and pulls her in for a goodbye kiss. “Have fun. Say hi to Miandra for me.”

“Delilah, until next time.” She looks back at Jaezred. “Every. Detail.”

Imryll opens the door, skips out into the hallway, twirls back to face the room with a wicked smile and a bow, then vanishes in a puff of smoke.

“…She could’ve at least closed the door.”

“Your next arrangement?” Delilah asks casually, taking another look at the timeline chart.

“Ah, I’m due to speak to someone tonight.” He nudges the door shut with a foot as he watches her study his work. “Do you have anything more you wish to discuss?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll be in touch if I find out anymore about the seal — or anything else for that matter,” Delilah says, walking over to the window. She stops and looks over her shoulder at Jaezred. “I do hope you remember your word.”

“Wait. A couple of things.”

She slowly turns around, eyebrow raised.

“You may already know this, but Farstep has been rationing souls from the Orb into soul coins, which are distributed to their simulacra.” He conjures an illusory soul coin in one hand and flicks it into the air, arcing over towards Delilah. It disappears into nothingness right before it reaches her. “Of course, souls are a finite resource, and they’ve been heard saying they don’t have many of them left. If you could steal them somehow, that would be good.

“Also, you heard Ceres back there about how Farstep didn’t show any interest in Jack prior to this whole mess. We believe now that Farstep is using Jack for his engineering skills without a care for him — and Jack may be catching onto that. There’s one report of a Jack simulacrum showing doubt when some adventurers tried to persuade him to stop. Needless to say, it’d be good if we can turn them against each other — without Jack, well, Farstep is really nowhere as clever as he fancies himself to be.”

“Divide and conquer. That is what you’re suggesting?” He nods. “It would make them weaker, easier to take down… Yes. Alright. But as for those coins, they are… despicable things. Is the purpose to try to question the soul inside?” Delilah’s eyes appear a bit brighter as her face appears pinched under her mask.

“It’d be useful to analyse them, see if we can learn more about the Orb through them. But if they are destroyed, that’s almost just as well. It’s about taking resources away from those two.”

She nods. “Anything else?”

“That’s all for now,” he sighs before draining his glass. “Thank you for coming. And sharing.”

Her pitch black eyes trace the panes of his tired face and for the first time her voice softens, just a touch. “We all have chains that bind us, whether we know it or not. In a way, I can understand Farstep’s desire to be free…” Delilah indicates the door where Imryll left with a nod. “She seems worth it.”

“I thought we agreed to not talk about personal matters?” he says, a bit of teasing in his tone, as he smiles weakly at her. “Farstep, though… He is a fool. He understands freedom and power the same way a beast would. Power… power itself is a burden.”

Delilah looks like she is going to say something else but holds back. Silently, she draws the hood of her cloak up, her form growing in height to be six feet tall again. Tinuviel draws back the curtain, the dusting of stars on the cloak brightening even as the shadows envelope their form as they seemingly melt away, disappearing from Jaezred’s room.