( STORY )
from: CHAPTER TEN ~ The FALL of CASTLE DREIST
characters: SOFONISBA (pov), KORVUUS
After their long westward journey from Ladroa, the party arrives at the court of Prince Alberingen of Auspenheim, bearing both a letter of introduction from the Archbishop of Oranda and a shipment of telescopic equipment for the court astrologer Sofonisba Orlogio.
As guests of the Prince, they agree to make an expedition into the Nimmerendes mountains to investigate strange rumours. However, on the eve of their departure, Korvuus accepts Sofonisba's invitation to for a night viewing with her newly constructed telescope...
S T A R G A Z I N G
Sofonisba Orlogio turned the small brass key in her hand, and a tiny bolt rotated a quarter-stop. She paused to check the alignment of a metal beam against a series of precise notches etched into the surface, did a quick mental calculation, and scribbled the resulting measurement in a book with her silverpoint stylus.
She stepped back from the apparatus she had spent the last several hours assembling and calibrating, a gleaming cluster of metal tubes, arcs, gears, and lenses. She pushed the thick frames of her jeweller’s spectacles up to her forehead, and rubbed her lower lip thoughtfully with the silver stylus; this was a habit that had always infuriated Paladio di Breschi in the time she spent as his student at the Scuola San Idalio in Verezza. The older architect had been trained to draw with lead, not silver, and was sure she'd one day poison herself. At the memory, she smiled to herself, like a willful child testing her parents.
From the small mezzanine overlooking her workshop, Sofonisba checked the pot-bellied stove in the corner, where a brass kettle of coffee was warming. It was imported, of course; a bitter Talumar-style blend delivered all the way from Verezza. It was one of the comforts from home she insisted on, given the lamentable Auspenstadt preference for over-sweetening all of their beverages with honey.
She cast her gaze across the studio to a large free-standing clock. It had no outer panels, and its workings lay exposed - hundreds of tiny polished brass gears, moving in imperceptible, incremental unison. Tick. Tick. Tick. She liked the steady, unflagging rhythm of these sounds, taking her back to her youth in her clockmaker father's shop.
Noting the hour, she turned to the glass-paned door that led to the outside terrace, and peered at the darkening purple sky. Now, all that was missing was her guest.
“Dottore Orlogio?"
At the door of the studio stood one of the newcomers to the Palace of Auspenstadt, the man called Korvuus. He was half a shadow on the edges of the candlelight, dressed in a long midnight-coloured jerkin, with carved toggles running down the front. His black hair brushed his shoulders, framing his pale, narrow face. Perched next to his cheek was a large, shaggy crow, looking almost as if it had sprouted from the black furred fringe of his cape. The man gave a short, courteous bow, but with an unnatural slowness, his dark eyes unwavering from hers.
From the mezzanine, Sofonisba pointed to him with the stylus. “Ah! Excellent, Master Korvuus. Your timing is impeccable."
“You did specify before sunset, Dottore. With so many stairs to climb in this tower, I hope I've not kept you waiting."
“Not at all. I’ve just this moment completed my preparations, and the coffee is brewed. I believe we still have some time left before a full darkness is upon us."
Korvuus blinked. “I hope that’s true." he murmured softly to himself.
* * * *
The barrel of the telescope extended upward in a slow, smooth congress of cogs and levers, as Sofonisba rapidly turned a small wheel fitted with a varnished wooden knob. She stopped to peer into an eyepiece, then made more small adjustments, and finally stepped back to offer the eyepiece to Korvuus.
“Even on a night so clear, the naked eye cannot reveal all. You may look and see for yourself, good sir."
She opened her small leatherbound notebook and scrawled something inside. It was a precise, automatic gesture, without even looking at the page. Earlier, they had wheeled the large telescope out onto the terrace, and doused the lights inside her studio. Although they’d been standing outdoors long enough for their eyes to grow accustomed to the night, the moonless sky still left everything in gradations of indigo shadow.
Korvuus leaned in and gingerly placed his eye over the sculpted collar of the eyepiece. He raised a brow in surprise, exchanged a glance with Sofonisba, and then peered again through the telescope. “It truly is much clearer. I have never seen that star before, but there it hides, in the light of another."
“Tacita the Hidden,” she supplied, “which completes the Constellation of Roses. Laetarius knew she was there. He even calculated where to find her, based on fluctuations she caused in the Halo of Ocariel. Of course, the star Ocariel disappeared from the skies in antiquity, but we still had records.” She patted the glinting metal of the telescope with a gloved hand. “And now, thanks to fine lenses from Duomo, components from Kolstadt, and my own extrapolation from the Laetarian Formula, we can truly see her."
Korvuus looked up from the eyepiece and then squinted at the night sky. “It’s very impressive.” he said earnestly. “We actually have a small telescope of our own, but nothing to compare with this."
“Oh, you have a telescope? Where is it from?"
“We took it from a pirate, I think."
“A pirate? No, I meant what city was it made in… "
She trailed off. Her visitor had already become distracted, and was now gazing out from the stone parapet, drinking in the night. They stood upon a terrace on the highest tower in Auspenstadt, and the peaks of the Nimmerendes around them were soaring black points jutting against a brilliant spatter of stars across the sky. The air was clear and knife-sharp, but to Sofonisba’s surprise, no wind troubled them on the tower this night. It was as if the elements had stilled themselves just for their benefit.
Korvuus’ crow had hopped from its habitual perch on his shoulder to the telescope, and it was now peering at the eyepiece suspiciously. With a small clack-clack noise, it gave the lens an experimental nibble with its beak. Pursing her lips, Sofonisba prodded at it gently with her stylus.
“Bah!” it seemed to huff at her, before retreating to the far end of the telescope to sulk. She narrowed her eyes at the crow, then turned to its master, whose attention was still skyward, hands clasped behind his back. Her vision had adjusted to the light of the stars by now, and the black-clad man appeared only as an empty silhouette cut into the tapestry of night beyond. It was hard to know what to think of this one; he was urbane, even obsequious, but also queerly detached. An undefined eccentricity seemed to hang about him.
She bent over her eyepiece again, and resumed scribbling notations in silverpoint - blindly, but with confidence in every stroke. As she did so, she asked more questions. “So, tell me, Master Korvuus, are you truly a student of astronomy?”
He turned and shrugged. “Just a dilettante, to be honest. I only started reading on this subject a few months ago. The scholarship is still new to me. Even so, it feels like I’ve been watching these stars forever. I can't list all the names the philosophers gave them, but I still feel as if I know each and every one of them." He nodded to the telescope sheepishly. “Or at least, I know the ones I can actually see with my own eyes."
“You're not alone." she replied. “The stars are not solely the domain of scholars and diviners. Hunters may track time with their movement, and sailors have used the constellations to guide their travels since antiquity."
Korvuus sighed wistfully. “I also just enjoy looking at them."
Sofonisba snapped her notebook closed and replaced the small leather cover over the eyepiece. “They are beautiful, it's true. But now that you've begun your studies, have you formed an opinion? What do you believe them to be?"
Korvuus reflected for a moment. “Well… my companion Jack says they’re holes in the fabric of night, through which the light of the heavens shine."
She smiled charitably. “In all fairness, that is a belief still held by many. It was even the official stance of the Church of the Holy Wheel until the year 2710. So your friend Jack is only 300 years behind the times."
“I'll let you tell him that." Korvuus replied dryly. “As for myself… well, I don't think I've made up my mind. The sun gives us warmth and light, while the moon governs our seas. We watch the stars, and they watch us, but to me they seem… very distant. They are a part of our world, and yet they are not."
Sofonisba rose from her seat at the telescope and joined him at the parapet. “Indeed so. Have you any thoughts on the movement of these distant stars? What causes them to dance across the skies as they do?"
He bowed his head and chuckled. “I think you’re still testing me. Very well, perhaps I’ll ask in return… do they truly move?”
She folded her arms and watched him closely. “And why do you say that?”
“Dottore, in my view, it is not the stars that dance, but us -- just as one might dance in a midnight glade. As your body reels with abandon, you see all that encircles you - the shafts of moonlight filtered through the boughs, the bonfire and torchlights, the faces of those who drum and sing - all these things which are all just a blur in the night. But there is a rhythm to be found there. As we whirl, we come to know our surroundings. And so it is for our earth and the stars."
Her lips corkscrewed quizzically. “I must say, your analogy is… actually a remarkably accurate description of the articulation of the firmament, Master Korvuus. As any well-read astronomer knows, it is not truly the stars that are in motion, but ourselves. I must say, though, you make a very strange account of dancing."
“Oh, you think so?" he asked guilelessly.
“I don't know what manner of folk revels you've engaged in, but when one performs a volta, customarily one turns the head first, and fixes sight on a single point. This is to maintain your sense of direction as your body turns, so you don’t lose control."
Korvuus leaned in conspiratorially. “Ah, but perhaps the true purpose of the dance is to liberate one's senses, and free our body instead? Perhaps we must relinquish such control in favour of some more natural direction?"
She felt her cheeks flush slightly, and was glad for the darkness. “Hmph. One moment you show the poise of a courtier, and the next, you speak anarchic nonsense like some… libertine carouser.” she said curtly and turned back to her telescope. As she did, she was acutely aware of her thicker left sole scuffing lightly over the cold flagstones. “While some may stumble about in pagan bacchanals, Master Korvuus, others among us must devote our whole lives to cultivating our balance and a sense of… precision.”
She began finding adjustments to make on the apparatus, and she felt Korvuus fall silent behind her. The crow ruffled its feathers, and grumbled, seemingly admonishing its master.
“I… hmm. I fear I've insulted you." Korvuus said quietly. "Please pardon my insouciance. I did not mean…”
She sighed. “No… you've given no insult. Pardon me for giving you cause to think so.” Turning from her instruments, she gave him a wry smirk. “I’m afraid there were very few women in the academies of Verezza, and none with my… physical indisposition. I have heard every kind of insult and innuendo. If my skin were really that thin, I would have demanded satisfaction at swordpoint from every man who spoke out of turn, be they beggar, scholar, or lord. Though, I did challenge some…”
She felt slightly embarrassed by her initial reaction, and that it had been marked. In truth, she'd felt a brief sting of insecurity in that moment, not because Korvuus had truly overstepped, but because his peculiar earnestness was disarming. An attack with intention is easy to foresee and parry, but accidental wounds were far less predictable.
“I am relieved to hear I've not offended you, then.” he said, before adding meekly, “I wouldn't wish to be challenged. I may carry a blade sometimes, but I confess I barely know how to use it.”
She mustered a half-hearted riposte to lighten the moment. “Really? That's an odd thing to hear, coming from a celebrated pirate-hunter. However did you earn your aristes from the pagans of Aesos, then? Dancing in moonlit glades?”
Korvuus grimaced. “Um… sadly, no. We didn't have any of that." For a moment, his mind seemed far away, distracted by unpleasant thoughts.
“Stargazing has a long history in Aesos. Is that where you acquired your interest? According to the historian Edestes, astrology was one of the gifts that the First Men passed down to us. It's said that the sages of the Apotheoi learned the art from the Elves because the Gods refused to teach them."
Korvuus smiled at this. “They had only to look up to find them. The stars have always been there. They're older than any of the Elder races. Perhaps older than this world."
“Older… " a small raspy voice echoed.
Sofonisba shot a sideways glance at the crow, who was still perched at the tip of her telescope. “Does it… actually speak?” she asked.
“Mm. Oh, yes. Hreth is very opinionated sometimes.” Korvuus replied mildly.
She eyed the bird warily, but it only quorked and shivered its wings haughtily. Turning back to her guest, she chuckled. “Well, on that note, I did promise there would be drinks. Please, join me. The stars are here for us, so let us make the night convivial and speak more on opinions…"
Much earlier in the evening, when the last hints of dusk still lingered in the sky, Sofonisba had called upon palace servants to drag two generously-upholstered chairs and a small wooden table out to the terrace for the night’s viewing. Now she sank into one of these chairs and gathered her winter coat about her, the fur-lined collar forming a white wreath around her cheeks. Ceramic steins of hot mulled wine had also been prepared, along with fresh-baked apple strudel from the kitchens, swaddled in a basket and still warm. She took one of the steins in her hands, feeling the heat radiating through her gloves.
“Thank you, Dottore. This is rather luxurious." said Korvuus, taking his seat across from her. Raising his own stein, he gave her a polite nod. As he lifted the lid and tasted the contents, the paler shade of his face was momentarily lost in the steam.
“Educating the Grand Prince's son is a vexing chore, but the post of royal tutor does come with some perks." she said morosely, and sipped her wine.
“Not an apt pupil, then?"
She lowered her voice. “A dullard, sadly. He has no aptitudes, no discipline, and no curiosity about the world. Prince Alberingen is well aware of this, which is why I am here to guide his education as needed. His Serene Excellency may play the role of the indolent, oblivious aristocrat, but he is rather more shrewd than he appears. Auspenheim owes its prosperity to him."
“Concealing one's true self for a greater cause is a clever but delicate game, I would expect." Korvuus mused.
“Indeed, but I fear when he is gone, the realm will not be in such good hands. You know, the famed Bramante wrote a treatise on political philosophy when he was thirteen. It was an immature work, but insightful. Meanwhile, our young Fortinz cannot grasp fundamental questions of history. He only spouts the same old storybook nonsense without interpretation."
“Oh?"
“Yes, well… for example, our present year of 3010 is reckoned by the Foundation of Cyrona, the so-called Advent of Man. But this is only the most simplistic understanding."
Korvuus nodded faintly. “Because the Helicosian and Siiga civilizations both predate the Empire…"
“Exactly. And then there is the matter of the legendary Clarion Call in the North. It supposedly signaled the rise of humans as the new stewards of this world, and this is why the Clarion calendar is different than ours. Some claim that it's older than the Imperial calendar, though in fact, Peregrino has disputed that notion. Have you read him?"
“Um, no. Not as of yet."
“He makes the argument that if you compare the chronicles of the Hundred Thrones with the astronomical archive in Cyrona, it confirms that the date of the Clarion Call would have fallen significantly after the foundation of the First Empire in Old Cyrona."
With a hint of a smirk, Korvuus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And so Peregrino is an Imperial scholar, of course."
She waved Korvuus' insinuation aside. “Biases notwithstanding, his calculations do bear out. I've reproduced them myself. The discrepancy between those events would need to be at least twelve years…"
“Is that so long? It's scarcely a heartbeat in the life of… a mountain, or the oceans. An old military victory or the historical founding of a nation - are they not simply the products of events set in motion long before? Is the significance of a grand old tree to be found in the moment that it grows tallest? Or is it that moment when the seed is first nested in the soil? Or perhaps when it weathers a storm, and all the fruit is shaken from its branches, beginning a new cycle?"
She nodded knowingly. “That is a poetic evasion, Master Korvuus, but true indeed. While Peregrino's equation casts the Clarion record into doubt, the disparity in years is likely irrelevant on any cosmic scale, so let's set aside talk of which great dynasty came first. Perhaps what is most interesting is that both the Clarion Call and the Foundation of Cyrona – significant events that mark a turning point for humanity in our world – manifested within a single generation on different sides of the continent."
“Hmm. And what could this mean?"
“Obviously, the Three Prophets teach that the Age of Common Men was foretold. We have been chosen by the Gods as the inheritors of Duatha. The Elder Races and spirits of the old world were forced to acknowledge our divine destiny, and stepped aside. All hail the Trine." Sofonisba straightened her back and lifted her palms upward in a beatific posture.
Korvuus seemed appropriately incredulous. “I'm sure that's what the Gospel of the Trine says, but what do you think? Forgive me, Dottore, but I think you're playing with me."
“Perhaps a little bit." She winked and raised her stein to her lips again. She found the wine was warming to her spirits as well. “Certainly, many theologians would say that the rise of Men was ordained. It's also possible that there was a shared causal event, but let us imagine that these seeds you speak of matured in concert because they were planted at the same time. In such a case, who was it who planted them? And when? And to what end?"
“Men are very concerned with means and ends." answered Korvuus, “The Duathan built their great kingdoms long before us, only to eventually abandon that path. Instead, they allowed the elements to topple their towers, and nature to reclaim their cities. Was that course ordained? Was it written in the stars? Or did the Elders simply come to understand things about the world that we, with our short lives, still have not learned?"
“So then, if it is not by the providence of the Gods that mortal men will ascend to greatness, then what do you believe it is?" Sofonisba asked.
In the night, Korvuus’ dark eyes were like opaque pools of ink, and as he spoke, they flashed with hints of reflected starlight within. “Your question assumes that we mortal folk have some special importance yet to achieve. Perhaps there is no destination. Perhaps, like the First Men, we are simply here for our season, only to fade so something new might grow from our bones. This world goes on living, with or without us."
She gave him a dissatisfied look. “Do you truly believe the universe is so indifferent to us? To everything? In place of divine destiny or a greater purpose, would you have us governed by entropy instead? Should we embrace chaos?"
Korvuus frowned. “No… I would not say that." he replied quietly.
The wind which had been so mercifully calm that night, now abruptly stirred, brushing their faces with icy fingers. With a sudden flutter, the crow alighted on the back of Korvuss’ chair, and rasped at them both, a tiny plume of warm breath escaping from its beak:
In blackest wood, we scream our words Faint breaths drowned by winds and storm All names die, unloved, unheard Gasped but once, and nevermore…
Sofonisba was both startled and puzzled by the interruption. The crow's whispers were portentous and clearly enunciated, so unlike the mimicry of any talking bird she had heard before. She gave Korvuus a questioning glance, but he merely sighed.
“Yes, well… I told you he had opinions."
“Very particular and… lyrical ones." she breathed in bemusement. She stared at the crow, but it only ignored her and began tugging at the remains of the pastry on Korvuus’ plate.
She struggled momentarily to find her thoughts again. “Uh, well... you didn't say earlier what it was that changed for you in recent months? Why did you shift your attentions away from pirates and pagan bonfires, and toward the science of the stars instead?”
He returned her question with a meaningful look. “I suspect you might already know the answer to that.”
It was true; based on the timespan he'd indicated, she did in fact have a strong idea. “I would guess… it was because you noticed the Constellation of Peira has vanished?”
Korvuus nodded. “Correct. Although it was another who brought it to my attention, a fellow named Calibretti.”
“Fontano di Calibretti?” she exclaimed.
“Yes, I believe so. Do you know him?”
“After a fashion. He is a fellow stargazer who I correspond with, though I only hear from him a few times a year. We’ve never met, yet I owe him much. It was because he retired from academic life that I was able to get my first commission at the College of Cartasegna. I hope he is well. How odd that you should also know him!”
“I met him quite by accident. He has an observatory in an old watchtower along the Kronoi ridge. I can’t imagine there are many messengers passing through there. He seemed to be in good health at the time, though he was flustered about the matter of the constellation. Do you have any ideas about what would cause stars to go dark like this?”
“It is a mystery. Stars do sometimes burn out, but not in such a precise formation. Of course, star-watchers of antiquity spoke of such things. The Cluster of Oribus was once obscured for nine years, and the Elvish Hymns describe similar events in the Third Age. These things pass in time.”
“This has been months now.”
She leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow. “Ah, but as you said yourself, sir, the stars are ancient above all. What is the measure of a celestial event? What is two months, or a season, or even a lifetime when compared to the universe?”
At this, Hreth interjected with a laugh. As before, it was not the sound one would expect a crow to make – less of a hoarse cackle than a sardonic chuckle, seemingly at its master’s expense. Korvuus bowed his head graciously. “Very true…” he admitted with a small smile.
Sofonisba pulled apart a strudel distractedly. “However…" she continued, “I do understand your concern. It is very unusual, and I have received missives from some of my colleagues across the Empire on this very thing. My peers theorize that something has come between the constellation and us -- an obstruction moving through the firmament. If so, it would be something far closer to us than to those stars. Such dark bodies do exist... wayward moons, black comets, cosmic miasmas, and such."
“Hmm. That's a rather fascinating notion." Korvuus stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “Although, it is not just astronomers who are taking notice of this…"
She nodded back. “No doubt this has caused a great deal of worry in the temples, but I'm sure it will run its course and Peira the Bright Daughter will return to the skies. The old gods may be quiet, but I'm sure they are not gone just yet."
“Hm." Korvuus acceded, with little conviction.
“And even if the Old Gods are gone..." she could not help adding, “...then I’m confident the stars that we named after them will endure, at the least.”
She chewed her pastry, feeling Korvuus' curious eyes upon her. Perhaps she'd said too much.
“You sound more certain about the stars than you do about the Gods.” he noted.
“Indeed, Master Korvuus. We can scarcely deny that there are ancient, mysterious powers in this world. And yet…”
She studied his long pale face in the dim light for a moment, wondering how frank she could be.
“Please, go on.” he urged.
“I have studied the classics of the Near East, and I know something of the Telosian Concord, who are now called the Gods of Law. Recounting the history of Siiga, one sees how the old gods manifested as humanity needed them. The belief in Niam guided the people to commit their histories to writing and to preserve their knowledge. The temples of Ka provided the foundation for a code of justice. The meditations of Imparthas helped them find purpose in death, and therefore in life."
“And so Peira…?"
“Peira is not just a solar goddess - she is a mistress of all light. She represents the heat of the sun, the clarity of day, and the tools we use to dispel darkness. She is a muse and a healer, but she also has her militant aspect. She is the beacon for a brighter future – one worth fighting for.”
“And so… you see the old gods as just symbols?”
“We can be sure that many ancient deities were real… in at least some way. Perhaps the Telosians were truly gods, but their real legacy was not in their holy power, or in tributes made in their temples. It was in the inspiration their examples provided to humanity, and what great things their followers were able to build and create.”
Korvuus raised an eyebrow at that. “If that’s true of the old Telosians of Siiga, then what about the Wheel of Braius? And all the Saints of the Trine?”
She took a long, deep breath. Her eagerness to chat with a fascinating newcomer brought back pleasant memories of the coffee-house repartee of her student days in Verezza. It had encouraged her to be forthcoming, but here she paused. She'd heard of the inquisitions commissioned by the King of Iagos, but such affairs were not common in other parts of the new Empire. She reasoned that there was definitely something mysterious about this man - something hidden - but also too peculiar by half for any agent of the Holy Wheel.
“It is said that the Sublime Presence cannot be seen and understood by mortals. It requires intermediaries. This is the doctrine, but the Three Prophets were all humans, all seekers of knowledge who were awakened to this divine mystery. They shared their understanding with us, and we now revere them for it."
“But...?"
“I am not so blessed as to know the will of the Gods, Master Korvuus. Such answers are a cleric’s vocation. Instead, I’ve devoted my life to studying their creations on earth and above. After all, what lessons should we take from the Prophets if we don't ourselves become seekers of knowledge? To observe and understand the methodology of the universe is to follow in their footsteps, is it not? Therefore, the cultivation of human science is a kind of holy pursuit, yes? A path to the divine?”
“It is a… consequential path." Korvuus answered carefully.
“Astrology was thought to be a way to read the fate written in the heavens. I cannot say if that's true, but the stars are a kind of clockwork – wheels within wheels, as the priests like to say. Observation shows us that there is a pattern and order there, beyond the whims of fickle deities. Unlike the metaphysics proffered in the temples, I believe that the articulations of the universe are meaningful and must be ultimately knowable. Perhaps the Gods created this divine machine, but they did not keep it just for themselves."
Korvuus looked thoughtful. “And is this truly the way of thinking in the cities of the South, now? I can’t imagine that the Hierophant of Parona would agree with such forms of worship. It wasn't so long ago that followers of the Trine were burning groves consecrated to the old spirits, and washing druidic circles in blood."
She gave a resigned shrug. “In those times they would have burned gnostics like me, too. In some parts of Iagos, they still might. But even before the First Empire or the Prophets, the astronomers of ancient Helicos observed many truths of our cosmos. Ideas like this aren't so new, but of course, the path of knowledge does not always follow a straight line."
“Since the rise of the new Empire, it seems as if the Southern Church is becoming more reactionary. Such changes can cause great suffering." Korvuus replied quietly. “I've seen it happening in Capracia, too."
“True. And the followers of the Three Prophets have even warred bitterly with each other at various times. It must be said, whether they were true gods or not, at least the Telosians of old Siiga were always depicted as harmonious and unified in purpose."
“But those gods also had their adversaries…"
“Ah, yes... the Vagaries."
“Oh, you know of these?"
“Certainly. Tcharnos, Salangos, Negethyros, and the rest. They emerged after the Telosian Concord, as personifications of the challenges faced by the path of civilization. These symbols were then taken up by chaos cults, revolutionaries, and iconoclasts. They serve their purpose. In his Dialectics, Eleutheres even used the Vagaries of Chaos as discursive models to question received knowledge and critique philosophical absolutes. They're really just thought-experiments… ideas that persist at the limits of our understanding."
Korvuus' brow furrowed. He seemed to be weighing a reply, but Sofonisba raised a finger to her lips. “Hush, now. Ask me no more theological questions, and I’ll speak no more of my enlightened heresies.” she whispered playfully.
His expression softened. “It's fine. When it comes to blasphemy, I'll take yours. I've seen and heard much worse."
“Coming all the way from the infamous Ciudad Mascarada, I'm sure you have."
“Oh, Ladroa isn't so bad, actually. Well, if I'm being honest, truly, it is… but there is potential there, too."
“Indeed? Potential for…?"
“A better way."
“That, Master Korvuus, sounds like an idealistic notion worthy of the Telosians! Or if you prefer, an upheaval worthy of the Vagaries."
Korvuus shook his head slowly. “There are other paths that exist in-between. One only needs to stand at a distance to see them. Harmony and order are not always the same thing. Seeds may grow in interesting ways when given time."
Sofonisba folded her arms. “Of course. Again, with the seeds." she chided.
“Our human lives are brief. We cannot always see what is happening around us, and so we write histories and seek answers in the stars. And yet, when we came through the highland pass into Auspenheim, I passed many trees that were older than both Empires put together. It's all relative."
She blinked at this. “Three-thousand-year-old trees? I've heard stories about magical trees like that in the One-Forest, but how could one ever tell…?"
“Oh, I'm not speaking of those trees inhabited by spirits or touched by Fae magic. Just regular trees, I suppose. In the high altitudes, some kinds simply age more slowly. To our eyes, they might even appear dead, since they bloom so rarely. But there are ways to tell, if you know them."
Sofonisba could not help leaning in, eyes bright with curiosity. “Truly? I should like to know too, if you would be willing to share them with me."
Korvuus returned her gaze warmly. “I would be happy to share all I know with you, Dottore."
For a moment, all was still. Hreth, who had finished with the pastry crusts, was now dipping experimentally into a wine mug, and emerged briefly to shake his head in disgust. He worked his beak indecisively for a few seconds before returning for another taste.
Sofonisba settled back into her chair and gestured to her guest. “I must confess, you are not quite what I expected, Master Korvuus. I was surprised to hear that my instruments had arrived in the care of the furious Captain Jack Tyrsson, the scourge of the Helicosian sea… and with a letter of introduction from the Abbot of Oranda, no less. But you are stranger still."
Korvuus chuckled. “Now you're going to taunt me with Jack’s braggadocio, Dottore?”
“Not at all. I'd heard of your exploits well before you arrived at the palace. Auspenstadt devours news from the rest of the Empire voraciously, since once the snow flies we get considerably less." Her voice hardened. “Also, Goran di Frezzi and his Company of the Hook carved their bloody name into the Southlands during the war. Like any good Capracian, I still dedicated prayers of thanks to every saint I could name when he was brought to justice… even if that justice did come at the hands of a Black Bull.”
Korvuus hesitated. “A Black Bull? Oh yes, I've seen that bull emblem on Jack's shield, but I never thought anything of it. He likes to tell stories from his campaigns, but I don't really know his history. I was away during the recent troubles following the Regicide."
“By recent troubles… you mean a decade of warfare?"
“I… yes."
“Well then, for your information, the reputation of the Black Bulls is almost as infamous as the Company of the Hook. Some are claiming that this Jack Tyrsson only performs good deeds now because he seeks redemption for his past crimes as a Black Bull. Do you know if this is true?”
“Oh, well… I don't think Jack is really the type to ask anyone for redemption. It's true, he loves fighting, and he's certainly very good at killing, but I don't think I've ever seen him harm anyone unnecessarily. While he lusts after gold and glory, he still lives every day like his last. I suspect what he truly seeks is to live forever in grandiose tales told of him after he's gone. And, for all his bluster, he seems to have a code of sorts; he thinks clearly, speaks plainly, and honours his contracts. I've never seen him falter under pressure."
Sofonisba mulled this over. “Interesting. And the others? What about the grim Lundishman, and the loud woman in the unusual armour? Are they…? ”
“Oh, no... I don't think so. Kian is a man who seeks to prove something to himself. I suppose he's truly the one who seeks redemption for something. I know he fought in the wars, and he seems to carry a great loss with him, but he never speaks of his past. Valke, on the other hand, seems to have fought in a hundred different wars, and she will tell you a story about each one. She's a bit older than she looks, so I'm inclined to believe her. Strangely, I think they're friends because she refuses to take him as seriously as he takes himself. Perhaps he needs that."
“And what of the other man, the enormous Easterner?”
“Kuan is a humble fellow who had a great responsibility placed on him quite by accident. He may seem an oaf at times, but he was raised by foreign mystics who trained him in many esoteric arts. He has a childlike soul, but I mean that in the very best of ways. He always means well, and has helped all of us along the way, and so we've stood by him too when he needed it."
“You speak very well of them. It is good to have such friends."
Korvuus paused, as if momentarily puzzled by her statement, and then nodded to himself. “They are… good companions. Strangely, even with all the hardships we've faced together, we've actually only known each other a short time."
“It's often that way." Sofonisba reflected. “And now that brings us to you. Who is this seemingly erudite fellow travelling amongst such motley ruffians?”
He smiled mysteriously. “Who do you think I am?”
Sofonisba made a show of scrutinizing him for some time before finally speaking. “Hmmm. Well, you conceal your origins well enough, but you are no Southlander. Your Capracian accent is quite exaggerated. I think you are probably Torvar or Kosh instead. You are sure-footed, with a hardy gait, but you are no rustic, nor are you a soldier. You seem refined and well-mannered, but you are too free with your words to come from society. You may have received education in a priory, but you are not a true scholar, for your knowledge is disconnected, and you talk in circles rather than with facts."
Korvuus winced, but nodded in benign forbearance.
“You may be a scoundrel, but you are poor at blending in, as your vanity prevents you from conforming to style. You ride with a crew of mercenaries, but you are too servile to be their patron, and you are too ostentatious to be a spy. I must assume you are of some value to them, but you are certainly too old to be a gigolo."
His eyes widened at this, and he opened his mouth as if to object, but she raised a finger to indicate she had not yet finished. He held his peace.
“I suspect you must be some manner of conjuror, but not a mage of any orthodox school, as your knowledge of Imperial lore is weak, and you carry no arcane regalia. Some might fear you are a witch, but I doubt it. Despite your elegiac presentation, I sense no real menace in you, and I marked no diabolical signs amongst your trinkets, only a smattering of pagan marks and runes."
“This one can see through the meat and bone to the marrow inside." whispered Hreth approvingly.
“And has a sharp tongue as well." muttered Korvuus under his breath, perhaps reeling slightly.
Undeterred, she pointed to both the man and his crow with a triumphant grin. “So, I would say that you are… an unusually well-dressed hedge-magician of some old heathen tradition. It is said that their kind often uses birds and other small beasts as familiars. They also take pains to cultivate an air of mystery about themselves to cover for the weakness of their Northern spellcraft. Am I getting close?”
He sighed. “I am… humbled and bewildered. I have nothing to say in my defense."
She frowned slightly. “Well, now I'm having some doubts. I expected to see just a bit more indignation. But I suppose if you truly were a witch, you probably would have turned me into a frog by now.”
Korvuus shook his head. “That's too good for you. A frog may freeze in the winter chill, but will still wake again to enjoy the spring. Besides, a vicious, needle-toothed stoat would be more fitting, it seems."
“We Verezzans are famously cruel.” she agreed sardonically.
He stroked his chin with a gloved hand, and took on a more wistful tone. “Or perhaps a hook-taloned, night-gazing owl suits you better?”
“Owls are known for their wisdom, so I will accept this." She folded her arms, and pouted. “So in that case, what's holding you back, enchanter? Should I have accused you of being a charlatan instead?”
Korvuus' eyes twinkled at her as he sat there in mock contemplation - though disconcertingly, for somewhat longer than she expected. Finally, he gave a small huff, stretched, and rose from his seat. Hreth quickly reclaimed his perch on his master's shoulder.
“Please forgive me, Dottore, but dawn will come before we know it, and I must preserve my energies for the day's ascent into the mountains." He bowed in a gracious gesture, making to leave. “I must thank you for your hospitality and conversation this evening. Perhaps, when I return from this expedition, I shall give you the wings you requested.”
Sofonisba scoffed. “I'd call that a likely excuse, but you needn't worry. You’ll have plenty of time to make good on your threats, as I will be accompanying you and your comrades into the mountains tomorrow.”
This actually caused him to pause mid-step. “Oh?"
She tented her fingers and leaned back in her chair. “Oh yes, it's all been decided. You are to escort Prince Alberingen's observer on this mission - and that observer will be me. Missing peasants, strange Kabouter inventions, demonic apparitions, and this 500-year-old mystery of Amadeo Bronzanti? I can't exactly investigate all those things from the palace, can I?"
He gave her a long, appraising look. She tried to read whatever misgivings were running through his mind, and head them off. “I grew up in the highlands of Capracia, sir. I assure you, I can travel just fine on this foot. I know the area and its history, and I've been to those villages before."
“I meant no disparagement.." he answered carefully. “Only that there may be dangers. And if we find this Bronzanti - or whoever is using his name - he may not grant us a warm welcome."
She sniffed at this. “I will be travelling in stalwart company, so I should have little to fear." She then pressed her lips together in a determined line. “I have also been in a fray before, and I have seen the face of war. You will find that I can handle myself, should it come to that."
Korvuus bowed his head and smiled gravely. “I do not doubt it, Dottore, and I can already tell that I have no hope of dissuading you. Of course, we will be honoured to have you accompany us. I only hope that no trouble awaits us."
“No, Master Korvuus." she said intently, her eyes flashing. “It's going to be fun."
