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enchanted-prose · 4 years

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#9 On the Horizon

two in one day I’m sorry, I just had to do it, plus I’m excited to see everybody else’s reactions because I’m posting to fanfiction.net and I have one reviewer who has some good theories on the overarching plot. . .

Word count: 5,433

Characters: Tobias, Mott, Feall (Original character), Renlyn Karise (Original character) The Faola (Original creation)

Notes: Edited!

Enjoy!

Tobias wiped his forehead with his sleeve, the summer heat piercing his long sleeved tunic. He loved his work. He loved being able to see results, being able to visibly help other people. It was his mentor, the castle’s official physician, who’d suggested Tobias set up temporary clinics in the poorer areas of the city.

It would give him good practice.

The temporary clinics were nothing like the pristine physician’s suites in the castle, but it was certainly better than a pigsty. It was always set up in the morning by the earliest patrol. A large striped tent was set up in the middle of a large space surrounded by dying buildings. This kept patients out of the heat.

Due to his dedication, Tobias had climbed higher than many of the other apprenticed physicians. He was the one telling the others to get patients clean, keep a steady supply of water, and clean up any mess.

Power felt good. Power over a group of people with a similar cause.

The truth was, he liked not having to sweep floors, he liked cleaning people up. He liked stitching them back together.

That was what his ‘power’ brought him.

In the heat, Tobias requested that canopies be set up in addition to the central tent. It would be easier to work that way. He gently patted his current patient’s shoulder after bandaging the patient’s infected wound. The instructions were clear: Keep clean or he wouldn’t survive.

The new trend of cleanliness was creating a string of new businesses.

Or at least that’s what Renlyn Karise said. Everyone was racing to build up their own bath houses. Racing to supply water to people who could pay for it.

Renlyn played her cards well.

She was one of the few members of the gentry providing water for free, in turn, she received a new wave of Carthyan employees.

Supposedly she was setting up an office in Drylliad dedicated to building structures.

Business to Renlyn was like medicine to Tobias.

The patient thanked Tobias profusely, and walked away. With a grin, Tobias handed his used instruments to the nearest assistant, and moved on to the next canopy. A new bag of tools and a new patient were waiting for him.

“You see, Mott, I was able to track down the doctors that healed Imogen after she was shot through her shoulder,” Tobias said as he opened up his bag of instruments. “Because that kind of survival? Nearly impossible. He wouldn’t tell me his name, though, it took a lot of string pulling on both my part and Amarinda’s part.”

Mott, who often accompanied Tobias during a temporary clinic, scratched the back of his bald head. “Right. I have a feeling you’re going to tell me all about it no matter what my answer is, what did he say?”

“Cleanliness is key. He did a study in which he followed doctors with used instruments as well as doctors who used clean ones. Those with dirty instruments had a higher mortality rate.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Mott nodded. “Dirty cities tend to have higher plague rates, or at least they did.”

“I’m glad you- please stick your tongue out, ma’am- noticed that,” Tobias squinted at his patient’s throat. “It appears that you have white pockets on the back of your throat, you told me it’s quite painful? Do your ears feel jammed too?”

The patient tilted her head left and right.

Tobias nodded, and stepped away when the patient hacked into the open air. “Good, it’s not an infection of the ear, rather an inflammation of the throat. You can get better if you sleep, drink plenty of- absolutely no ale, I’m sorry- water, and make sure you’re coughing often. Come back in three weeks if symptoms don’t subside.”

“You’re very good at what you do,” said Mott as he leaned against one of the canopy poles.

“Plenty of practice, and my wife is an ambassador, she has a lot of access to the best books in the realm. Thank the Saints for the printing press.”

“Rumor has it that you’re single handedly responsible for the lack of bloated corpses in the streets.”

He didn’t mean to make a face.

There would always be people he couldn’t save, and that didn’t sit well with Tobias.

What he’d chosen as a profession differed from what Roden did.

Medicine didn’t label anybody. You were supposed to use it to help everyone in need.

When a person died under a physician’s care, it was far different from taking a man’s life in battle. It was different because steps had been taken to try to save the patient. Because no matter who the patient was, they were being cared for.

In battle, it was a contest to see who was strongest.

Battle crushes compassion.

Medicine exercised as much compassion as it could.

Death never sat well with Tobias, he wanted everyone to have the chance to see another sunrise.

“That’s not true,” Tobias insisted. “Jaron’s the one who's mostly responsible, and I’d put a lot of credit to Imogen and Amarinda. Roden, too. And Renlyn. It’s never the work of one person, it’s the work of a lot of people with good ideas and respect for another human being.”

“Have you been reading books on philosophy too?” Mott arched an eyebrow.

“How did you know?”

“Because I read the same book.”

Tobias opened and shut his mouth several times. A wide grin spread across his face. “Really? I absolutely loved it, though there were some situations where I- please take a seat, sir, I was told you have an injury on your foot and you mustn't put any more pressure on it- didn’t agree with the author.”

“That’s the point of philosophy, is it not?” Mott narrowed his eyes at the patient’s wet boots. “I don’t make a habit of philosophy, but that book was certainly worth my time.”

“Good, good! I thought- sir, can you remove your boot please?” Asked Tobias, trying his best to juggle both conversations.

To his dismay, he couldn’t carry both.

As gingerly as he could, Tobias removed the patient’s boot, and kept a straight face as the smell assaulted his nose.

The foot seemed normal, but Tobias knew better to dismiss a patient’s concern based off of appearance only. Shifting around in his bag of instruments, Tobias withdrew a cloth, and used it to cover his hands while he touched the patient’s foot.

There weren’t many things Tobias disliked, except for feet.

But his love for what he did helped him overcome that loathing in order to help people like his current patient.

“When did you begin feeling pain?” Tobias asked after thoroughly touching the foot. “Does it ever flare up?”

The patient held up his hand and tilted it from side to side. “Fales up on occasion, usually after I’ve worked a long day.”

“And when did this pain start?”

“Er, ah, I took up a second job hauling metal for the blacksmith. My foot started hurting a week or two after I began.”

Ah, that second job would certainly contribute.

So many of the patients Tobias saw had afflictions that could be cured with a little rest, and a little less consumption of liquors. Renlyn’s attempt to provide fresh water to those who couldn’t get any was helping, but as people were working themselves to death, there was only so much water could do.

“You mentioned that the pain flares,” noted Tobias, suddenly very aware of the fact that the cobblestones were hurting his knees. He rocked back onto his heels, “Can you tell me when they get unbearable? And when they’re not painful at all?”

“I, ah, let me think,” the patient’s shoulders twitched. “They don’t get so bad on the Saints’ day. I think they’re the worst on the last working day of the week. I suppose it builds up over time.”

All it took was that explanation to confirm Tobias’s diagnosis.

Unfortunately, the patient likely wouldn’t like it.

He cleared his throat, trying to pick out the best words to describe what needed to be done. “Sir, you don’t have any fractures of the bone, nor any growths or other bad things. . . But you’re working yourself to exhaustion.”

The patient was silent. Tobias could feel Mott’s eyes lingering on the scene, taking in the utter disappointment. Asking the patient to work less was asking him to starve. Asking him to let his family starve.

And that notion made Tobias’s heart begin to whimper. It made his heart break in two.

His patient should be allowed to rest.

He should be allowed to build up his strength.

Allowed to take a moment to ease his aching feet.

“Sir, if you want to make the best recovery you can, you’ll-,” Tobias heaved in a breath, panic crawling up his spine in tiny steps. “Your feet aren’t broken in any way, but they’re tired. Your body is tired. You must take more than a day of rest in order to prevent further injury.”

The patient hung his head.

Behind him, Mott stiffened. Tobias could sense the sudden change in the atmosphere around them. He was preparing to defend Tobias in case the patient grew violent.

It had been several weeks since the last patient tried to hurt him, but it wasn’t something Tobias could ever forget.

After several moments of silence, the patient nodded. “How long would I be unable to work?”

“Depends. If you completely take the pressure off of your feet, I suppose you could recover in a few days. You’ll want to eventually build up strength, but you do that in small increments, not by lugging metal and other wares around for nearly a whole week.”

“I, ah, I have my family to think of.”

Tobias didn’t mean to wince. He’d known that was coming, and he wished with all of his heart that he’d solve the-

“Lord Branch, it truly is a nice afternoon,” said a familiar, catlike voice.

“Lady Karise, I was just meeting with a patient. We’re discussing the best way for him to recover,” Tobias glanced back at the woman behind him.

“Oh?” Renlyn shielded her eyes against the sun. She had to be blistering hot in her gown and veil. “Is there a price to be paid?”

“Not necessarily,” the patient bowed his head, murmuring the appropriate titles for the woman before him.

“Then why is both patient and doctor so disenhearted?”

As subtle as he could, Tobias nodded at his patient. Renlyn wouldn’t have him flogged for speaking to her. Or at least he didn’t think so.

There was an air of nervousness as Tobias’s patient brought his eyes from the ground to Renlyn’s face. Reverence filled his voice. “My lady, Lord Branch has asked- has informed me that my pain will go away given a little rest. . .”

Renlyn arched an eyebrow, both she and Tobias were waiting for the outcome of their discussion.

“My family depends on my, my lady, that’s all I have to say on the matter. I will not let them starve,” the patient finished by bowing his head once again.

“True dedication,” Renlyn mused.

Something mischievous was sparkling in her eyes. Tobias could see it from where he sat. He could see that glimmer as clear as the daylight illuminating Drylliad.

“What are you implying?” Tobias tried not to frown, there were all too many possibilities about what Renlyn was trying to get across.

“I promise you, dear sir, that you will be taken care of.” That twinkle still hadn’t left Renlyn’s eyes. “If you swear to rest for a week.”

The patient stuttered to life, “But how? What-”

“You will simply have to trust me, my friend.”

Tobias wrinkled his nose, but said nothing.

He still didn’t know Renlyn well enough to understand the multiple games she was playing.

The games she was playing and winning.

“Goodbye then,” Renlyn clasped her hands behind her back. And yet, despite her farewell, remained planted where she stood.

Tobias and his patient exchanged a look. There were many things to be done around the temporary clinic, it would be foolish and inconsiderate of Tobias to toss aside Renlyn’s quiet offer to help.

“Ah, there’s many patients who need water, if you wouldn’t mind helping them,” Tobias said, and then he looked at his patient’s wet shoes. “And if you could spare a-”

“Pair of boots?”

“Yes, actually. These ones aren’t suitable, they’re soaked and worn full of holes.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Renlyn tipped her head, and retrieved the discarded boot.

Tobias flashed a bright smile at his patient. “Stay here for a little while longer and rest.”

“Sir, I- ah, thank you,” the patient shifted. “But it’s a lot to ask me to go on blind faith. The nobles aren’t exactly. . .”

“Kind?”

“Exactly.”

There was something stirring in Tobias's chest. Something hot and ready to fight. He heaved in a breath, knowing that this was a deciding moment.

He was deciding that yes, he did trust Lady Renlyn Karise.

“I can promise you that Lady Karise doesn’t go back on her promises,” he held a hand over his heart. “I suppose that’s why she doesn’t make many of them.”

“Then I’ll take your word for it, Lord Tobias.”

“It’s alright, I try not to throw my title around while I work, sir-”

What a fool. Tobias had never asked for his patient’s name. He hadn’t expected to get so involved in his patient’s life.

“Derforgall,” the patient flashed a grin. “Calagan Deforgall.”

“Any relation to Alistair Derforgall? One of the king’s knights?” Tobias scratched the back of his head, curious about Derforgall’s answer.

He nodded. “Alistair is my son.”

“He’s a good man, I’ve heard a lot about him.”

A smile crossed Derforgall’s face. “I couldn’t be more proud of Alistair, he’s my oldest son, and he does what he can for us. It’s not much, and I don’t expect him to provide for me while I can still work. He’s too foolish in trying to give us things. My wife, she, ah, she has a habit of kindness. Alistair learned that from her, and I take pride in knowing he is in a place to use that kindness for good.”

Tobias caught himself nodding. Kindness was perhaps the most valuable currency in the realms. There wasn’t much of it following the Avenian War.

But many people were trying to prove otherwise.

And Tobias would do all that he could to contribute.

The temporary clinics remained standing well into the evening. Tobias, Mott, Renlyn, and the others had their hands full with various different tasks, varying into all sorts of forms. Renlyn brought water, Mott helped with settling rambunctious patients, and Tobias patched up as many people as he could.

And to top it all off, Derforgall got a new pair of boots.

However, Renlyn was nowhere to be seen when he was given the boots. In fact, Tobias didn't see her until Derforgall had left, promising that he would rest for a week.

He didn't bring up her promise to Derforgall until they were dismantling the canopies.

"That was very kind of you," Tobias noted as he untied part of the canopy.

Renlyn made a face. "I don't see why it has to be discussed. Many people would do the same."

"Some people argue that it's in man's nature to be kind," said Mott from the opposite end of the canopy. "Shows that you're human, Lady Karise."

"Shame, I was hoping that I was secretly a fairy for the longest time."

"You sure do look like a fairy," chipped in a new voice. Lord Feall was watching from his position on his horse.

No retort came from Renlyn, she only scowled and continued untying parts of the canopy.

"Lord Feall!" Tobias grinned. "What brings you here?"

Feall waved his hand, "I was in the area, just completed patrolling the upper streets. Missed

helping you lot earlier today, I figured I could make up for it by assisting with the cleanup."

"You have a height advantage, mind grabbing the center of the canopy?" Mott gestured to the aforementioned spot, which was threatening to drop into the cobblestone street and dirty itself.

With a nod of his head, Feall slowly walked his horse forwards, grabbing the center of the canopy. He held it up with both hands as Tobias, Mott, Renlyn, and another attendant scrambled to untie the canopy.

Tobias held his side of the canopy as high as he could, and instructed the others to go to Mott's side. Mott, catching on, began to roll the canopy.

It was all rolled up and stored within a matter of minutes.

They repeated the process for multiple canopies; Tobias profusely thanked Feall for his assistance, to which Feall responded that it wasn't him who needed to be thanked, it was his horse

On the third canopy, Tobias once again mustered the courage to speak to Renlyn.

He could no longer deny his curiosity.

“Lady Karise, I-,” Tobias began.

“My name is Renlyn, you’re allowed to call me that.”

“Right, ah, Renlyn? You promised Derforgall he’d be taken care of.” He paused, untied the string before him, and continued. “You never specified how he’d be taken care of.”

“I didn’t realize I needed to,” Renlyn frowned at the post in front of her. She glared at the other assistant who’d been looking at her. “I have many ties.”

“To what kind of people, Lady Renlyn?” Mott chimed in, his own eyes glued to the post before him.

“People who have more of an ability to take action.”

“I have many reasons to distrust you, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Is that because I’m a woman of business, sir Mott?”

“Partially, yes.”

Feall cleared his throat. “You can’t be too harsh about the stereotype. Renlyn has proved herself to be as unpredictable as the weather in late summer.”

“First I am a fairy to you, and now I am a storm with human skin,” Renlyn narrowed her eyes at Feall. “Am I something pretty to look at or something you fear?”

“Is it wrong of me to say both?”

Once again, Renlyn had no biting retort, and instead continued with freeing the canopy from the posts it was tied to.

“I believe Lady Karise,” Feall said as a small smile flitted across his face.

“Thank you, I suppose.”

“Right, ah, uh,” Tobias stuttered. “I think we should go to the Dragon’s Keep once we’re finished. Roden says there’s a new series of pastries we need to try.”

“I haven’t got anything planned,” shrugged Feall. He then looked to Mott and Renlyn. “What about you two?”

Renlyn tilted her head from side to side. “I’ll make that choice once everything is cleaned.”

Tobias tried to suppress his grin.“And you, Mott?”

“Haven’t got anything better to do.”

The thought of pastries split between his friends warmed Tobias's sore back. The work went much quicker, and Feall provided many insights on how to correctly weave a lattice for a pie. In turn, a debate sparked between Feall and Mott about which type of lattice was superior.

It didn't take long for the conversation to grow heated enough to make Renlyn crack a grin.

Altogether, Tobias decided that he'd had a victory over the day's passage. He'd managed to set up and take down the canopies in less than a few hours, stitched up several patients, helped a good man, and even managed to see Renlyn grin at the ground.

If there had to be a loss, it was because Mott argued that a pie lattice was much better over the pie crust in general, ensuring there was more pastry to eat.

Seeing the pie filling guarded by artfully placed dough was always a positive in Tobias's eyes.

With the supply wagons slowly headed back to the castle, Tobias decided that it was appropriate to make their way to the Dragon's Keep.

A sweet, warm pastry was calling his name, he simply knew it.

Feall fell into place beside Renlyn, and Tobias found himself squished in the middle.

Even Mott was in oddly cheerful spirits.

Unintentionally, they all pressed together as they passed one of the dark entrances to the ever mysterious Vaults.

Pastries were the goal, not an agonizing death in a place that rivaled the Devils' Lair.

Days later, Tobias would wonder what would've happened if they'd never decided to get pastries.

The attack came out of nowhere.

Nothing could've warned them about the cloaked bandits launching themselves out of hidden crevices.

They poured out from alleyways, from doorways and from windows.

Mott and Feall reacted much sharper than Tobias did. They faced outwards, keeping the unarmed Tobias and Renlyn safely sandwiched between them. Hooded heads surrounded them all.

One stood out from the rest.

Patched cloak.

Shorter than the others.

"Get his sword!" Bellowed the figure in the patched cloak.

Tobias was able to put the pieces together the second his mind calmed down.

The shrieking figure before him was a Faola. A fugitive Tobias had managed to trust. Had managed to talk his friends at court into trusting.

And here they were, abusing that trust.

“If we make enough noise, Captain Harlowe will come,” Mott said firmly, he’d dug the ball of his foot into one of the cobblestone crevices.

“This place is empty,” explained Feall. He jerked his head towards one of the buildings, “How else would they have gotten here?”

“I still think if we make enough noise, we can-”

“Get his sword, Devils have you!” The Faola barked, gesturing to Feall. When it became evident that nobody wanted to go near him, the Faola began to approach. “And get a rope. They can’t take us, we have higher numbers, we’ll hold the-”

“We’re not supposed to touch nobility,” mused another Faola. This one was short too.

“I don’t-”

“You should care,” Feall argued back, swiping at the Faola approaching him. “It’ll destroy your reputation here. And you don’t want that now, do you-?”

Tobias flinched as Feall’s sword met the Faola’s.

“You will speak when spoken to,” growled the Faola.

“Aren’t you speaking to me now?”

“I will get the captain myself!” Roared the other Faola, he drew his sword. “You’re putting us all at risk for something we don’t even stand for!”

“There is no-,” grunted the Faola fighting Feall. He swung at him again. “There. Is. No. ‘We’!”

“This is madness!”

“This is accomplishing a goal more important than keeping the peace!”

The second Faola wasn’t convinced. “Get the captain. You two, down the main road, you two up the low, and you two up the high-”

The cloaked Faola suddenly stopped fighting Feall, and hurled himself at his fellow bandit, taking the second Faola completely by surprise.

It was entrancing. Absolutely captivating.

Feall lunged forward to attack the cloaked Faola while he was distracted. However, the Faola predicted his move, and spun out of the way, leaving Feall’s sword to clash against the second Faola. The pair exchanged several blows before Feall realized he was attacking the wrong opponent.

The cloaked Faola continued his odd dance. Always spiraling away at the last moment. Always putting himself in the crosshairs and yanking himself free before he was hit.

Mott grabbed Tobias by the wrist, and yanked him as far away from Feall and the fight as he could. Renlyn lithely stepped away, her pale hands clenched into fists.

The Faola who’d been told to find Roden had long since ran in their appropriate directions. The others remained.

They didn’t contribute in any form, they only stood like hooded judges watching a trio of cockroaches fighting over a crumb.

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Yelled the Faola fighting beside Feall.

“On the contrary!” Retorte the other as he once again spun out of reach. “I’ve been plotting this for ages!”

Feall nearly managed to swipe at his opponent’s middle, but his sword only met open air as the Faola melted into the crowd. He instantly stood tall, looking for his missing foe. “What is his name?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” the Faola panted. “I-”

A blood curdling howl interrupted the short conversation. Tobias’s gaze was drawn to the shrieking, but all he found was that unbreakable line of Faola.

The distraction worked all to well.

The cloaked Faola materialized out of the crowd, just behind Feall and the other Faola.

Tobias looked away as the cloaked Faola brought the hilt of his sword crashing down on the other Faola’s head, knocking him unconscious.

Feall barely managed to block a blow aimed at his neck.

Another harsh clap of metal meeting metal shattered the air, followed by another, and another, and another. Mott held his ground, and shifted his way to best defend Tobias and Renlyn.

It didn’t seem like Feall was trying to overpower the Faola, or at least that’s what Tobias was trying to believe. The shared blows were much too short. Feall parried each one of the Faola’s advances, and did his best to push the Faola’s blade out of his grip.

A second Faola joined in trying to dispatch Feall, followed by a fourth.

Mott knelt before the fifth Faola, and put his hands behind his head. He then motioned for Renlyn and Tobias to do the same.

Was this really happening?

It was difficult to wrap his mind around it. They’d all been walking in a straight line to get pastries, yes, but the atmosphere changed. Tobias screwed his eyes shut. The swords hitting against each other over and over and over again pounded in his head.

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

Saints.

All he wanted was to go home.

This was only a bad dream.

Unfortunately, when Tobias cracked his eyes open, he and Mott were being guarded by a few of the Faola.

How much time had passed.

“Keep your eyes down,” Mott muttered. “They’re not here for us.”

“How do you-, oh,” breathed Tobias.

The Faola in the patchwork cloak.

The one fighting Feall.

That had been the Faola who’d led the attack in the woods.

Oh, oh saints.

Tobias had allowed for this to happen.

He couldn’t bear to watch as the clashing of swords grew faster, faster, faster.

He couldn’t bear to watch because he knew that Feall had no chance fighting off three of the Faola at once.

And it was all his fault.

Just out of the corner of his eye, Tobias could see the fight. He watched it just as he’d watched the snow falling lazily to the earth just months before. Ever so slow, ever so graceful. Sword hit sword, Feall dodged, all three Faola took a turn kicking at him. Feall tumbled to the ground. His hands and feet were pinned down. The cloaked Faola raised his sword high above his head.

They were watching an execution.

Unable to watch the scene any longer, Tobias turned his head, hoping that Renlyn would offer him the slightest shred of comfort.

But she was nowhere in sight.

All at once, everything came back to speed.

With a roar, Mott threw all of his weight into the nearest bandit, stealing his sword in the process. Tobias frantically looked for Renlyn, for Feall, for a way out, but he saw nothing.

Everything was rapidly filling with chaos.

The Faola, once so serene in their judgement, were fighting soldiers dressed in blue and gold. A tall man hacked through the crowd, bodies falling as he did so.

It seemed that Roden saved the day after all.

And all Tobias could do was watch.

Watch as the Faola tried to keep a protective circle around their patched friend.

Watch as they slowly ran for the shadows.

Watch as Feall scrambled to his feet, Renlyn holding a glittering dagger not far from him.

Watch as Roden demanded to know who was responsible, and be pointed to who was responsible.

The hood was torn off, revealing a young woman with scarlet hair.

Words were being said, but Tobias didn’t hear them.

He’d covered his ears to block out the sounds of unnecessary deaths.

“Tell me everything you remember,” Roden said gently, leaning ever so casually against the fireplace in his office.

Renlyn, Mott, and Tobias all sat in comfortable chairs, and each had their own mug of something warm. Feall was being looked over by the royal physician.

Tobias was still reeling from the attack.

Still trying to put the pieces together.

They’d been walking to get pastries, passed the Vaults, nearly made it to the Dragon’s Keep, a horde of Faola appeared out of nowhere, they attacked Feall but left the others alone, and the perpetrator was arrested.

He’d been told her name was Ayvar, and she was vehemently denying her involvement.

Clearing his throat, Mott told the story. Details fell from his mouth, but Tobias wasn’t listening.

Tobias had seen the entire scene on his own.

Too much blood and anger in one place.

“-there was a promise made,” Roden explained. “Jaron swore we would take care of the Faola if Feall allowed us to.”

“The attack was rushed,” Mott said.

“I know, there’s much more Faola here than were there at the attack. I was on patrol just a few streets over, too. If they’d been planning this, they would’ve done something much more inconspil-inconsnipu- much more quietly.”

“Is inconspicuous the word you’re looking for?” Tobias provided, his ears finally clear of the sound of flesh being sliced open.

“Ah, yes, yes it is,” a deep blush spread across Roden’s face. “It’s been a long day.”

“I agree.”

Renlyn sat straight up. “Is anybody concerned by the fact that they didn’t actually hurt us three?”

“Very much so, actually,” Mott answered.

Spin, spin, spin.

Tobias had been fascinated by several different clocks Renlyn had brought to court to sell. He loved watching how the gears had taken on different shapes.

His mind was just like those clocks, except his gears had frozen up.

Renlyn’s observation spun them back into action.

Think, think, think!

Connect the dots Tobias!

“It doesn’t make sense!” He didn’t mean to stand up. Tobias kept his blanket draped over his shoulders, much like the philosophers of old. “There were too many of them, too many opportunities to slit our throats. I mean, we’re not the best fighters, no offense Mott, and one of the Faola was very adamant about not touching us. They didn’t use any- any- they didn’t hurt- they ah-.”

Mott’s voice brought Tobias back down to his feet. “Take a breath, it’s alright to take things slow.”

Take things slow.

Tobias began to drum his temples, “It doesn’t make sense that they’d leave us alone, but try to cut Feall’s head clean off his shoulders.”

“Beheading is punishment for treason,” Renlyn chirped. She made a face when all eyes flew to her. “What?”

“I’m only slightly concerned,” announced Roden. He was beginning to pace. “Maybe they’d been paid to kill him.”

“But there was an entire group there,” Mott pointed out, a scowl settling on his features.

“It’s quite possible that only one of them was singled out and paid,” Tobias said. “Roden, can I ask how you found out the Faola’s name?”

“I’ve met her before, in the Vaults. I didn’t think she was a killer.”

Thinking, thinking, thinking.

The dots were coming together bit by bit.

Tobias began to pace in the opposite direction of Roden. “Then maybe she was paid to do so.”

A single question lingered in the room. Mott was the one to give the question a voice. “Who would want Feall dead?”

“I’m sure several people would,” Roden answered. “I know there’s dozens of people who want me dead.”

“You grow used to it,” muttered Renlyn.

Used to people hating you so much they wanted you to die?

The prospect made Tobias frown.

He’d have to wait until he could talk things through with Amarinda. He’d be able to see and hear all the details then.

Put them all together and listen to what Amarinda had to say.

There was more to this than just an attack on Feall.

Tobias refused to believe the attack was simply based in money.

You don’t attack a man out in the open with the captain of the guard nearby. Unless you were a fool.

No, this had to be a warning.

A storm of blood and bone lingered on the horizon.

And it was coming all too soon.

#tobias #mott #ocs #fic friday #fic Friday except its a sunday #again #also uh #this was a blast #I had to do two today because I couldn't resist and I really like angsty stuff #yeehaw #the ascendance series #the false prince #the runaway king #the shadow throne #the ascendance trilogy

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