Chapter Text
The lighting within this Imperial ballroom was incessantly bright and warm both in color and in the way it was making Essek begin to sweat under his armor. This should have been the least of his concerns.
Within the ballroom the atmosphere was buzzing with curious whispers, unabashed at how scandalous it was to be discussing rumors regarding the new King and his Regent within their own walls. Essek just couldn't understand the Empire's carnal need to gossip. However, gossip was a great well of information to pull from. Even if it needed to be taken with a grain of salt, gossip and rumor were insights into what the people thought, which was highly useful information. So he kept his head high, gaze forward, but ears open to listen in on what the ballroom had to tell him.
Here is what he has learned thus far.
The late King Dwendal was indeed assassinated, however there was contention amongst the populace as to who did it. Based on the buzz of chatter within the ballroom, some believed it had to be one of the members of the late King's Court, others were obstinate in thinking it was some Dynasty plot. That thought threatened a haughty smirk to rise to Essek's features underneath his helmet. At least that would explain why whenever himself and the rest of the Dynasty's entourage would pass by there would be an uncharacteristic lull and hush to the ever present buzz of the room. For those who believed Dwendal was killed by Dynasty assassins must be shocked to see representatives for the Bright Queen mingling amongst the ballroom. At least it was entertaining; it made the lights almost tolerable.
Next, the individual that was taking the throne was a young man from the Zemni fields. Essek knew little about the location, only the basics. It is said that the Empire can heavily attribute its roots to the Zemnian people. He has read that the people of the Zemni fields are said to be more in touch with the land, many being farmers and herbalists. Many are still followers of old traditions; to the point where the population spoke not only Zemnian, which was spoken in many pockets of the Empire, but Sylvan as well, which was almost exclusive to a few small communities in the Zemni fields. Despite the endless chatter in the ballroom there wasn't much solid information on the new King himself; plenty on his Regent, however, who was helping him while he settles into his rule.
Regent Trent Ikithon, a long standing member of the Court, colloquially known as the Cerberus Assembly. He was in charge of Domestic affairs and had a firm thumb on the pulse of the people. In the Dynasty he is viewed as a snake of a man as he was the one helming the Anti-Dynastic movement, but the people of the Empire adored him. Essek suspected that if blood relation wasn't incredibly important to Empire culture, Ikithon would be the one on the throne. However, he got the next best thing being Regent. No doubt in Essek's mind that Ikithon would be puppeteering the new King, a theory he pulled from personal experience.
The lights were now truly beginning to bother him. Damn. He knew humans needed light to see and this presentation gala for the King was set at night. But really. What was with the fanfare of so many extra lights and bobbles floating about? They might as well have held it at noon for how bright it was in here. Pointless in Essek's opinion.
With a small sigh Essek finally admitted defeat. He leaned into Verin to his right to speak, also getting the attention of Umavi Mirimm who was acting as the Liaison for the Bright Queen. Quite the statement from the Dynasty to send Umavi Mirimm. It almost sounded like the set up to a bad joke: A Goblin, the Shadowhand, and an elite Kryn soldier walk into an Empire Gala….
“If I don't get out of these lights for a moment I will be useless with a migraine.” He spoke to his brother in hushed Undercommon.
He couldn't see Verin under his helmet, but the tilt of his head felt sympathetic. “Understood. You have ten minutes before I send an echo to find you.” Verin replied, summoning his echo to take Essek's place on the Umavi's left.
With a customary salute to the Umavi, Essek excused himself to anywhere the lights were not. After wandering outside of the ballroom through an extravagantly decorated veranda, he ended up finding an admittedly lovely garden bathed only in moonlight. The fresh air lightly scented with roses and being blessedly dark was exactly what he needed to curb the growing pressure of the impending migraine behind his eyes. Helmet or not, the warm artificial lights were damn near as bad as the sun's light at its zenith.
Five minutes. Based on how long it took to find this place Essek would allow himself five minutes of peace before heading back in. He despised the fact he was taking a break at all, but a migraine would very much impact his casting time- that simply would not do. To better relieve the aching behind his eyes, he debated taking off his helmet, but as of right now he was seen as a war mage. A soldier to protect the Umavi, not the Shadowhand to the Bright Queen. He doubted that most individuals within the ballroom's walls knew what the Shadowhand looked like, with the exception of one man… Better to leave it on.
Mrow!
Essek blinked. Was that an animal? He turned the corner of hedges and indeed found a cat. At least he assumed it was a cat; being from the Dynasty the closest thing Essek has ever seen to a cat is a moorbounder, but he's heard of them. The spry feline was happily entertaining itself by batting and chasing little bugs that would occasionally blink with light. What a fascinating little creature.
“Why hello…” He squatted and reached a hand down tentatively. Animals liked to sniff you first, right? That's what he read at least; not many house pet options in Rosohna. Verin had a pet Griffin that doubled as a mount he kept at the stables, but that wouldn't qualify as a house pet now would it?
The cat took notice of him and approached gingerly, giving him a sniff before bumping its head against Essek's knuckles to pet itself. How charming; he can see why these creatures were domesticated.
“It's incredibly alarming how disarming you are, little one.” He mused to the creature in Undercommon. The cat had easily charmed him, showing Essek how it would like to be pet by pushing up on his hand in different ways. Scratching its chin, Essek swears he sees its eyes flash for a moment before the creature sits in front of him. Was that normal behavior? That didn't feel like normal behavior.
Meow! It was louder this time.
Oh no.
Essek's instincts were that it was calling its mother, or worse its master. He stood back to his full height, but as he turned Essek came face to face with a tall human rounding the same hedge he did earlier. The moonlight dulled his coloring, but even in the dark Essek could tell how vibrant his eyes were. Those eyes held him in place with an intense curiosity. He felt like a bug pinned to be studied.
“I assure you he is harmless.” The human spoke first, his voice was soft spoken and thick with an unfamiliar accent. Then he snapped his fingers which made Essek's dominant casting hand twitch, and he sensed that did not go unnoticed. In that same instant the feline was now on the human's shoulders. Ah, so it was a familiar, this man was a wizard. “Da bist du ja, mein freund.” He cooed to the cat.
“Your familiar may be harmless, but I doubt that you are.” Essek replied, officially on guard. He couldn't recall the last time someone's presence left him at a loss- he was the Shadowhand for Light's sake. Needless to say he was rather aggravated that he has found himself in this situation. This was not like him- he is definitely going to be blaming this blunder on those damn lights.
The human gave an almost laugh in the form of an amused huff of air through his nose and nodded slightly. “Ja, perhaps, but if anything I am the one who is allowed to be in the garden. If a guard saw a Kryn soldier out here there would likely be trouble.” He pet the cat as he talked, scritching under its chin and then settled his hands in front of him. “Worry not though, I am also avoiding the ah…” Pausing, as if trying to remember a word, and cringing before continuing “... the gala.”
“Hmm.” From behind his helmet, Essek studied the man. Clearly he deemed himself capable if he casually agreed to being dangerous- his footing was square, his hands still, at the very least the human didn't intend to start a fight. For now.
He was well dressed and not in the kind of way that typical nobles loved to be, that kind of gaudy style that said ‘I have wealth’ No. This man was elegant. His hair held back in a half up-half down style, a few stubborn strands framing his face. It was difficult to see what house colors he was wearing; darkvision was incredibly handy when color was of no concern. Essek finds himself wishing his eyes more capable yet again tonight. The fabric was of fine make, though, he could tell that much based solely on experience and the way the fabric settled on the human's frame. By all means he looked the part of a man who should be inside enjoying what the gala had to offer. “What reason would someone like you have to be avoiding the festivities?”
“I would ask you the same, for curiosity's sake.”
Tit for tat it seems. There was a pause as Essek mulled over his thoughts. As much as he didn't want to reveal anything concerning himself, the stranger was correct. A Kryn operative wandering the grounds won't blow over well. Perhaps he didn't realize just how far he had wandered into the gardens. Fine, to hopefully get some information he will give some.
“The lights.” Essek supplied begrudgingly. “Even though they are artificial, they're still bright enough to sting.”
“Mmn.” A noise of understanding, “I take it you're Drow then?” He was looking at him again with that same intense curious gaze from before. “The armor doesn't show much.”
“I don't appreciate being interrogated by someone whose name I don't even know.” Essek replied with perhaps too much bite, but clearly setting his boundary.
“Ah-” The human nodded. “Perhaps, I got carried away, my apologies.” He gave a very imperial style bow, bending at his waist. “I am called Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”
The name wasn't ringing any bells. Essek squinted at Caleb through the slit in his helmet. “I'm unaware of House Widogast.”
This did make the human laugh in earnest, an awkward sound that had Caleb's shoulders bouncing. His familiar hopped down due to this disturbance. It then did a little figure 8, first rubbing up on Caleb's calf, then surprisingly also to Essek's, before returning to sit obediently at its master's feet to complete the turn.
Settling down from his laughter, “Nein, no, I doubt you would have. Though, I suppose in about an hour you might feel awkward about this conversation.” He smiled at Essek and changed the topic. “I have a fair share of travel under my belt, but I have not visited much of the Dynasty. I appreciate you and yours being present this evening Herr…?”
“Thelyss.” Essek supplied then pushed. “Much?”
“Ah yes, a dear friend of mine is from the Iothia Moorlands. I've seen her home.” Caleb explained the smile on his face settling into something more genuine.
Something in Essek was setting off alarms, something was odd and he couldn't place it. Who in the hells was this man? A merchant? Well dressed and well traveled would be appropriate for a merchant. Merchants have little need for familiars, though. It also did not escape Essek that ever since his own hand twitched, Caleb's hands were always in view and, even more telling, still after the initial petting of his familiar. That was a common show of peace between fellow mages who might be at odds. He's seen battle as a caster, of that Essek was sure.
A mercenary perhaps? It fit the man better, but it didn't fit the context Caleb was presented in.
“I see...” The drow replied. He wanted to push for more, but he had to be nearing Verin's allotted time at this point. The last thing they needed was a Resonate Echo searching the grounds. “I really must be getting back to my post. I shouldn't have left it in the first place.”
“Nothing wrong with taking a moment for your well-being, Herr Thelyss.” Caleb replied, stepping aside to make it easier for Essek to leave.
Damn him, it sounded genuine, too. It was grating to have anyone see even an ounce of his vulnerability- it was in Dynastic culture to strive for perfection. It irked him that this Widogast figure, a man he just met, would just openly show him any modicum of care or sympathy, especially since he had nothing to gain from it.
Essek bowed his head. He did not know Caleb's status, but the human had willingly bowed low to him. “Enjoy your evening, Herr Widogast.” Essek said simply and began to make his way back to the ballroom. He managed to make it back just as Verin was beginning to become restless about his absence.
—
Caleb was aggressively avoiding the Presentation Gala, his Presentation Gala. The gala to celebrate and present the new King, to present him. He was the new King.
He wanted to throw up.
Never in all his years lived and all the years to come would Caleb ever think he'd find himself in this position. Nor did he think he would have even an ounce of royal blood in his veins, it felt like a horribly planned prank.
Caleb knew growing up that his mother and her side of the family were deeply rooted in the land- that her family line was as old if not older than the Empire. He did not realize just how true that was until two Cobalt Soul representatives showed up at his door. Thank the Gods that Beauregard was one of them because he would have gone into a full tilt spiral without her support.
Once the late King Dwendal was assassinated with no heir, the Soul took on the task of tracing back the bloodline to track down who the closest living relative would be. Caleb can remember his vision going dark and fuzzy at the edges the more they explained and he pieced together that he was that closest living someone.
Apparently one of his great grandmothers, many generations back just after the Calamity, married into the Dwendal family and birthed two children. One being the Eckhardt Dwendal, the man who put the monarchy into place. The man who put his son, Manfried Dwendal, first King of the Empire on the throne. A throne he learned, thanks to the explanation of the Soul, was made through many shady guild deals and managing post Calamity chaos.
Caleb had learned something new about his own country at 34 years of age… what a world he lives in.
The Calamity had erased any other branches of the bloodline and after Eckhardt and Manfried it was meticulously recorded. So looking into this other child, Eckhart's unsung sibling, lead them straight down Caleb's own family line. Ermendrud is a grossly Zemnian and Imperial name now that he thinks about it.
Caleb planned to out right refuse at first, but Beauregard stopped him. “Think about it, man. Let's talk for a minute.” She had said to him. So, after an intense and admittedly a very emotional conversation. Beauregard convinced him to at least meet with the Soul and the Assembly to discuss further. The idea sounded horrible. Yes, he wanted to clear the cancer of corruption in the Empire. He wanted to make changes, make life better for the people, try and foster good will between other nations. With Beauregard's help, they have made decent progress in beginning that process. But King? Him?
He was convinced this was some poor joke, or worse, some incredibly elaborate plan orchestrated by Trent. On the way to Castle Ungebroch to further discuss Caleb's legitimacy, his mind had convinced him that Master Ikithon somehow knew of his lineage this whole time. That this was some extreme long haul, high stakes game Ikithon was playing. Once he had entered the throne room, with all the Assembly and high ranking members of the Soul present, that train of thought violently crashed. Ikithon was clearly shocked.
Ikithon didn't know.
Caleb, Bren, he knew his Master well and he had never seen him put on the back foot before. Never seen his mouth agape or at a loss for words. Hells, Caleb was unaware Trent could even make those faces, even if he made a valiant effort in a fast recovery of a neutral expression- it happened. It was genuine, Caleb saw it. He still didn't know what surprised him more; the fact Ikithon didn't orchestrate this, or the fact that he was indeed of royal lineage.
This… could be an opportunity.
Caleb could incite change, all while having Trent and the Cerberus Assembly under his watchful gaze. He loved his country, his parents’ home, he knows how great it could be. As King he could make the Empire everything he believed it was as a child. The problem was Trent was elected his Regent for the first year of his reign shortly after he conceded to accepting the throne.
Now he was pacing in the gardens and debating every choice he has ever made, especially the one where he agreed to be King. He could puke, he wanted to burn something, anything, into white hot ashes just to picture his nerves burning away in the flames. Caleb knew he could be impulsive, but honestly this was ridiculous. What was he thinking? He could hear Beau in his head telling him to ‘man the fuck up’ or ‘stay on task Widogast’. If only she was here. Well, she was here just in the ballroom, but Caleb wishes she was right here in the gardens. Maybe she'd smack some sense into him, literally if he'd be so lucky.
“Why hello…”
The voice snapped Caleb to attention with his spine going rigid, even if it clearly wasn't directed at him. The gardens were a bit of a maze, truly. Hedges of roses made pathways that lead to clearings of artfully arranged flowers, sculptures and fountains, or on occasion a dead end with a bench. If you didn't pay attention someone directionally challenged would easily lose their way. With the exception of a guard slacking on the job, Caleb should be the only one here. From the sounds of it he was pretty sure that voice was only a few turns of the path away. The moonlight gave him just enough light to navigate the garden without feeling like a bumbling fool and he began to weave his way through the hedges.
If someone unauthorized was in the garden, maybe it was time to collect Frumpkin. Often these days the wizard would let his familiar roam free to simply be a cat, and Frumpkin particularly liked chasing lightning bugs. Caleb assumed it was because they were the most Fae like targets in this mortal realm. When he reached out to Frumpkin with his thoughts, however, he was only met with content happy feelings of his familiar. Strange, he normally felt more energized when chasing bugs.
Instead of snapping his familiar back to his side, Caleb followed a hunch. For a brief moment Caleb entered Frumpkin’s vision and felt his pulse quicken with what he laid eyes on.
A Kryn soldier.
‘Settle down Widogast’ he chastised himself mentally. Members from the Dynasty were invited to the gala, in fact he was the one to insist that the Dynasty was at least extended an invitation. Being invited didn't make the figure he saw any less intimidating in their dark, intensely angled armor, though.
Tensions between the Empire and the Dynasty have been rough for many decades now. Just last year there was border trouble and rumors of war between the two countries. Tension was still on a razor's edge. If Caleb was to be King, he'd like to extend an olive branch, or at the very least he wanted to hear thoughts and opinions from the Bright Queen and her court directly. Any kind of information that hasn't been filtered through Empire bias. Caleb himself has put a lot of effort into unlearning propaganda he was fed his whole life as a citizen of the Empire and he like to spread that practice into the people.
Regardless of any of that, this stranger shouldn't be in the gardens. Might as well go and see why they were here.
Silently pleading with Frumpkin to keep the Kryn's attention Caleb picked up his pace and rounded the corner.