The Rat Returns

Andre glares at us through the pale light of a dazkrid stalk. "You lot are in no shape to train. Who thought it was a good idea to bring you to me?"
He grips the bridge of his nose as though it will somehow soothe his agitation. "Dog! Go retrieve the book of Sol. Your training will be learning Sol's word."
Maheed nods and rushes off. More softly, Andre says, "Go learn in the stables. You're an eyesore out here."

He's allowing us a chance to sleep. Maybe he's not so bad. I look to the sky where rainclouds threaten to fall. Or maybe he's trying to protect the book. I nudge my head towards the stable. "You two go ahead. I'll wait for Maheed here."

Naz eyes me suspiciously. "You sure Segugek? You look closer to the grave than I am."

My normally stormcloud grey skin is closer to ash right now. Despite my hands and feet freezing, they're constantly leaking sweat. If I focus too hard, I begin to lose my balance and my vision blurs.
No, this has to be me. I need to get Maheed loyal to me and me alone, and every little interaction counts. I nod. "I got it."

"Don't over do it Segugek."

To avoid any stray gryphons our envoy left from Spire's Edge at the start of true dusk. We only stopped for a short break around the halfway point to eat the rest of our packed food and feed the horses, so we managed to return to the castle just before daybreak. Aroura and Summer slept through the entire journey thanks to the effects of mana exertion and I had to ride in the trunk the whole time. Stoler demanded we keep the details of our fight to ourselves. No mention of the immense struggle just to escape, of Aroura's magic, and certainly not of the beastmen. For our own sake as much as theirs. If word got out that Aroura was almost killed by beastmen under Stoler's mission while we were protecting her, we would surely be executed.

As soon as Maheed emerges from the castle, the first drops of rain poke my hair. Maheed says, "I went as quick as I could. Where are-"

I motion for him to follow me to the stables where Naz and Wal are already sleeping on the one hay pile free from animal shit. "Put the book somewhere safe."
I join the other two in the cramped shit-stenched space and try to get comfortable with Wal's surprisingly smooth scales brushing against my arm. Shorty after, Maheed curls up against me and I allow a moment of thought as to why he's suddenly become so cuddly before dismissing it. I'm sure he just appreciates the warmth.

I'm jolted awake by the snap of wood against wood. Before I can realize it's just Andre waking us up, my fists are raised for a fight, though I never managed myself to my feet. His tone is harsh but soft, "Thought I told you to read."
He motions his head towards the castle yard. "Don't let the chosen catch you like this."

He's here? Why? I bow slightly to Andre as a silent thanks as I say, "Maheed, get the book."

In a blink and a half, we're set up in a circle with Naz groggily translating some random passage from the first half of the book and Andre is no where to be seen. After a few tiringly monotonous reads, a blindfolded woman peaks her head in the stables.
Summer, who clearly just rolled out of bed, smiled on us like she just found her friends. "Studious, aren't we?"
She's wearing the garb of a high priest much like Stoler when he tortured me, a sword belt gripping her pants in place. Except she has a cowl to counter the rain. Also like Stoler, her body is heavily tanned and muscled, however she has many disfiguring scars dotting her body and mangling her hands. Unlike Aroura's slice scars, Summer's look more like concerningly large arrow wounds.

Carefully, I ask, "Chosen. To what do we owe the honour?"

Her creepy monotone is slurred by fatigue as she says, "Your soul's condition was explained to me by Aroura."

Oh, she's addressing me specifically. She pauses waiting for a response. Somewhat hesitantly, I say, "You mean the siphon? Forgive me, but I don't see where you're headed with this."

"Aroura also commended your character, stating my brother and I may have misjudged you. For so heinous a criminal, such high praise is suspicious. Though I trust my friend, I am not yet convinced you are not an abominable man, even knowing your soul's curse."

I restrict my anger as I say, "Were you not aware of the beastmen's objective? They were trying to free us from you, yet we all chose to stay. Their leader personally tried to liberate me, going so far as to offer protection, yet I fought an impossible battle for my liege. In case you've forgotten, I was the last one out."
Her smile remains plastered on her face, stoking my ire. It takes great effort to ignore it. Getting angry will only confirm whatever bias she's looking for. Besides. I'm too fucking tired to be angry. "What else would convince you?"

"To gauge your character for myself, I shall accompany you on your patrol."

What would that accomplish? Obviously, I'm going to act innocent while she's watching. But... Fuck, I won't be able to report to Épicier or Joan. I'm certain Épicier can't simply dismiss the chosen like he could a common templar. And if I try to convince her this is a waste of her time, she'll take that as incriminating evidence. Whatever, I'll figure something out.
I sigh and say, "If it pleases you."

She curtsies and begins to leave. "Good day rangers. How you bear this smell, I am uncertain."

Naz laughs and says, "Trust me when I say, it ain't by choice."
As soon as he's certain she's gone, he continues. "I hope you realize how lucky you are Segugek."

What? Luck? What luck!? I examine myself. "Crouched in a stable that has not yet been cleaned, held together by bandages, branded as a heretic in a zealous city... What luck are you talking about old man?"

"The rest of us don't get to work with the chosen."

"Mind teaching me how that's a lucky thing?"

"Better than working without 'em!"

"I don't think you recall the grudge they have against me!"

He waves his hands dismissively. "Bah! Even if there is one, it's up to you to straighten it out. Ye can't just hope folks'll stop hating you."

"I'm trying old man. They-" 

He interrupts me. "No your not. You're siting there making excuses and griping. There's not a reconciliatory bone in your whole body. A change in character starts with your attitude and you're just as bitter as the day you were branded."

Tsk. Annoying old bastard. "I was personally cooked by Stoler long before I got the brand, I think I deserve some bitterness."
He doesn't realize it, but he's reminded me of an option I've dismissed. I continue, "But you're not wrong. I can't forgive them personally, but I'll do what I can to weaken our animosity. Besides, Our liege is working hard towards the same goal. I'd be a right asshole if I wasn't willing to do that much."
On the surface anyway. I only need the chosen off my fucking back and if I have to pretend to forgive them to do that, so be it.

Naz blinks a few times, shocked that I could say something like that. "Oh... Did you just say I was right?"

"I said you weren't wrong. Just because you make a good point sometimes doesn't mean you're right."

Wal speaks up. "No need to be bashful about admitting when someone else is correct."

Naz holds up a finger. "It's a sign of maturity is it! Good work Segugek! You'll grow into a fine mav yet!"
Another dwarven word? Probably means man or something.

I mutter, "Yeah yeah." as I get up and prepare to leave.
"The templars are probably here by now. I'll take the book back."

Naz groans because he has to stand to hand me the book. Sluggishly, I stroll out of the stables, wishing for another couple days of sleep. I catch a glimpse of Naz's surprise to find Summer standing close by, likely within earshot of our conversation. She cheerily waves.

I unravel the chain from around my neck and hand the end to Darren Caresson, who eyes the blind woman following me around with a mix of suspicion and adoration. "Hail chosen. What can we do for you?"

She holds up a hand to stop him. "Rest easy sir Caresson. Monitoring a friend's pet is a leisurely activity."

His face subtly scrunches as he tries to deduce her intentions. "I see... Will you be joining us then?"

"Naturally."

Silence stretches the moment between them. Eager to change something, Caresson says, "Let's be off then."

Finally. Just as we begin to walk Summer asks, "Do you find enjoyment from your work?"
Adjusting her monotone to seem more casual

Caresson glances at her, bewildered. "Yes ma'am."

"Glad am I to hear it. So often, templars find joy from combat and combat alone."
What is she doing? She continues chatting like they've agreed to be friends. Caresson allows her brief and polite answers, but is careful not to let his aloof demeanor drop. Every now and then she'll suggest I add to the 'conversation' through vague questions and statements. Did she forget that's she supposed to be an observer? How is she supposed to gauge my character if she's constantly chattering? She's too pushy. It feels like she's desperately saying, 'You can trust me,' in order to trap us.

Of course, I suppose Aroura did the same thing and she considers Summer a friend. Even still, I can never trust the chosen. Besides, Aroura is also incredibly naïve. I'm certain I can't trust her judgement.
On the other hand, I did just have a conversation about getting in the chosen's good graces. Whatever game she's playing, I'm certain I can turn it on it's head.

Soon after we step off the bridge section of the city, we pass through one of the few 'tree streets' Solaris has to offer. Really a convergence of streets, verdant trees offer protection from the rain and rows of vibrant and varied flowers offer something to rest your eyes on.
Wealthy women like to come here to read, but today it's just the flower vendors with very little to do. Most wave at Caresson and Summer. One even offered Caresson a small bouquet of flowers as a sudden courting gesture.

Idly and somewhat slurred, Summer says, "This is new. I've never known the streets of Solaris to be so pleasant."

I finally respond with, "If I needed more evidence you're a foreigner, there it is. I'm sure every Solaris-born kid was brought here at least once."

Her attention shifts towards me. "Indeed, but you've hit another archer's target. A chosen's offspring are allowed special treatment as potential mages at the cost of our autonomy."

I muster all the sympathy I can and ask, "Autonomy? Do you mean your entire childhood was spent training to become a templar?"

She nods. "Indeed. Enacting Sol's will is a burden I have been preordained to bear."

This is good. If we can keep the conversation on her it's less explaining I have to do for myself. I ask, "That must have been rough. Was there anything you felt like you missed?"

She's quiet for a moment before asking, "What do you suppose I am?"

What? I glance to Caresson for any assistance, but his eyes are locked to the road. I answer carefully, ensuring no spite creeps it's way into my voice. "You're a templar, a warrior of Sol?"
She rolls her hand, signaling me to continue. "You're an executor of justice and powerful mage. Currently, you're my warden."

"Your mark lay before you, yet your aim is distant. By Sol have I been chosen. Even among my father's many children, it is an honor bestowed upon very few. Sol's gaze is upon me. Mediocrity would be a severe disappointment for all my gifts."

After a moment of deliberation, I say, "That's admirable. I used to think the same, but until recently I haven't had anyone to disappoint."

Caresson asks, "What about your family? Surely they wouldn't approve of what you've done."

I shrug. "When was the last time you heard a blind person describe something they saw? I put in extra effort to ensure they never found out."
There's a leap in logic there, but if they focus on the metaphor, they should overlook it.

Summer asks, "And now?"

I give her a look of mild surprise. "I thought that should be obvious? My liege has gone through great expenses to keep me alive and fed. I would be beyond pathetic if I couldn't at least repay that."

With more spite than I've ever heard from her, she says, "Surely, if she were blind it would not matter. Yes?"

"What do you suppose I can hide from her? If I was going to escape, I had plenty of opportunities during our expedition."

"Intentions far more sinister."

More sinister than letting you all die!? We were surrounded by beastmen, and my plan got us out safely! What more do you want from me!?
Gradually, plants become sparse. Store fronts stand in place for what could have been beautiful trees. Silence reigns, as I hold back my thoughts. If she doesn't trust me after the expedition, it's because she choses not to and there's nothing that can be done about that. It's to be expected. A zealot from the temple ignoring the deeds of others.

After letting the silence draw out, she asks, "No snide remark?"
A smug tinge painting her smile.

"There'd be no point. It's clear you've long since decided I'm guilty of whatever evil you think lurks in me. I'd be more than happy to do whatever it takes to convince you, but it seems there's nothing that would."

As though to spite me, Épicier troops on patrol call out. "Templar! Lord Épicier wants to see the ashskin as soon as possible."

Summer simply says, "Intriguing. To keep a lord waiting would be rude, yes?"

I nod. "It would."
Especially one who demanded that I not leave the city.