Private Fire & Blood

[Elias Faivre]

D O W N - B E L O W ​

​

LOCATION | Silver Crest -> Blood Reign, Illyria
WEARING | [ X ]

He still wasn’t sure if this was a wise idea. And yet, somehow, he was sure that he had to do it.

Elias pondered this several times on his ride to Blood Reign. For all of his uncertainty, he never once pondered turning back. The journey was hard and a rather long one, he pushed both Alouette and the Captain of his personal guard to their limits. Well, more the Captain than he did Lark. The horse loved when they went on rides, galloping across open fields as if they were nothing more than ant hills.

As night set in, they found shelter in a local provincial inn, handing off their mounts to the stable hands and paying for joined rooms. The Captain dismounted with a grunt as they headed indoors and paid for a warm meal. “My Lord, must we really travel all this way on horseback? Wouldn’t a shuttle be more convenient and faster? Is…” his voice dropped to a whisper at mention of the province’s name, “Blood Reign really worth all of this trouble? Why not request an audience? Better yet, demand one. They’re practically disgraced anyway.”

He ate a few spoonfuls on nuna gumbo and let the warm spices fill him before answering and downing a bit of raava. “Well, yes, shuttles would have been convenient. However, if the rumors are true, the city is pitch black from above. Dark clouds hang over it and have never moved. Flying too low in order to get a proper view of where we were going would be a hazard to all. As for the audience, we are going to her. I don’t believe summoning Lady Astier and expecting complacent obedience would be a good first impression if we’re to form any kind of agreement.” Another spoonful followed quickly. “Besides, they need allies, not wardens. They are still a noble House of Illyria.”

“It is the least respect I can afford them.” Elias stood after downing the rest of the contents in his bowl and in his cup. “We ride again at dawn, Segal. Best you get some sleep or you’ll be eating dust come sunrise.” He smiled and laughed as he walked upstairs to his rooms to bathe and retire, hearing the man grunt his disapproval.

“Oh, and tip the waitress, will you?” He paused and then added, “Twenty percent, not five, ya cheatin’ highlander!”

The next morning, the viscount made good on his word. They woke just before dawn, saddled up, and pressed on into the snowy mountains of the north. He leaned into the wind as Lark spurred faster and faster of his own accord, laughing even as his throat dried and his mouth tasted bitterly of iron. The pair rode for hours when the black spires of Regne de Sang came into view, dominating the skyline and indistinguishable against the grey backdrop of the sky. He reared Lark and brought him into a walk as they simply rode into the town, horse shows clicking sharply on cobblestone roadways and nimbly dodging holes in the ground, the bright morning light eclipsed by the darkness that ruled the skies above Blood Reign.

The gothic province certainly lived up to its current name. It had an eerie and uneasy feel about it. Even the people seemed hostile and cautious of them as they rode towards what he assumed was the House’s home, a massive cathedral-esque structure that loomed and lorded over the city proper. The guards posted outside stepped up at their approach, pointing weapons at them, causing Segal to draw his own weapon constructed of pure metal from the mines of Titan’s Point.

Elias nodded at his Captain and silently instructed him to lower his weapon. He’d have no bloodshed on this day if he could help it. “My name is Viscount Elias Faivre of Silver Crest. Would you please let Lady Fauvel Astier know that I would like to speak with her, if she has time?” With that, he relaxed slightly in his saddle, waiting and looking at their surroundings with the hope that his audience would be granted.

Fauvel Astier ​

 

[Fauvel Astier]

Location: Widow's Wail, Regne de Sang, Illyria.
Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Elias Faivre

"Ir jina'tis Nu shiyi tuti mari diâ oi ai hadzuska Nu tqi drasasja. Kiha ri sosûtudorjazia saud sotizi ki arika diâ ki hirjta niryirsizi dro ri inshiwizi, anas ri swira iw ki hadzuska tqi duroki diâ sotizi wisa. Ki zûtanokizi waria tuti shasona."​

The thuribles hang around her, long whisps of smoke raising high into the air before disappearing in darkness. There was only the light coming from the burning candles, showering just the center of the room in ther warm glow for it was not enough to banish the shadows. It was cold, and dark, and empty - except for the lady that was on her knees in the middle of the small worship room, praying.

The ancient language of the Sith rolled off of her tongue with devout ease, darkness stirred around her and within her, eating away at her soul and focusing her mind. The mumbling was almost inaudible, words spoken for the Darkside and the Darkside alone. This was her home. This feeling. This closeness to the ultimate power within all living things. It was beautiful.

No living soul in the service of her House dared interrupt her ladyship during her hours of reverence.

An unexpected visitor was at the gates, and so the message was passed until it reached one of the very few people who could hope to intrude into the prayers of Lady Astier without fearing punishment. Glowing red eyes joined the light provided by the candles when they parted open, as she was pulled away from her pious prayer - the prodding of a familiar presence in her mind.

<<"An audience is requested, my lady.">> Sanne's voice resonated through the young lady's thoughts.

On a day of worship? A foreigner.

<<"By whom?">>

<<"It is Viscount Faivre of Silver Crest, sister.">> The answer would cause the young Lady's eyes to widen for a second. How highly irregular. Four years had passed since the subjugation, and in that time her relationship with the nobles of the Court had remained mostly broken. Her good name carried a stain on it, one that Fauvel would see cleansed even if her life was put down as the price. Even in the past, when her those who now frowned upon her desperately hungered for her House's favour, an unscheduled visit such as this one was quite the rarity.

<<"Invite them in and ready the halls. You will offer the Viscount and his entourage food and rest, see to it that they are well tended to. I shall receive him at his earliest convenience.">>
​

It would seem the day had prepared a surprise for her. Whether it would be a blessing or yet another curse, she would have to discover. There were many things that could draw a Viscount to Blood Reign, and if her luck as of late kept up, most of them were not very promising. Fauvel then raised to her full height, leaving behind her dark room of worship to head towards her holding's main hall. She would take her seat at the head of the hall and wait for the Viscount.

At some point one of the guards announced his arrival, and the tall and heavy doors were opened to reveal a nobleman she had not set eyes upon in a long time. Not since she had been a girl. As was required given that he outranked her in station and title, Fauvel rose from her seat and walked down the set of stairs to greet him. Two cinpeliers hang from her wrists.

"Viscount Feivre," The Lady offered a bow of her head in recognition and respect. As always her voice was rich and melodic, captivating in its own unique way. This was a land of eerie and enthralling creatures, and its Lady was no exception. "An unexpected honor but an honor none the less to have your presence in these halls. I hope your travels have been pleasant."

 

[Elias Faivre]

L A D Y ​

​

Whatever wait they’d accounted for was squandered. They got a response within a few minutes. The announcement came from a pale and thin person, whether they were noble or not was anyone’s guess. He could sense Segal’s discomfort and, was that, caution or disgust based on the messenger's appearance? He couldn’t tell, but he smoothly dismounted Lark and held on firmly to the reins as they approached.

“Lady Astier will see you. She has given you and your… companion temporary quarters and has offered you food after your journey. After you’ve rested, she will await Viscount Faivre in Main Hall,” called the slippery, unsettling voice.

Elias gave a polite smile. “Please give my thanks to the Lady of Blood Reign for her hospitality. I’m sure my Captain would enjoy rest. I believe I’ll just have food, neither of us ate before our last departure. Are there stables where we could house our horses during our visit?” They’d be horse meat or mince before they could bat an eye out in the open like this. And he’d hate to make a horrible impression by having to beat some poor bugger over his stallion. Captain Segal slid off of his chestnut mount and followed behind their guide and Faivre to the stables before being guided off by servants to a room and a dining hall respectively.

He was brought to a room lit by candle light with a large table set with one placement. He sat down and took in the meal presented, thanking the staff and only requesting water as a drink to wash everything down. Elias ate down two portions, the gumbo and long grain rice all but vanishing from his system. This had been a more strenuous journey than he thought it would be. But, the goals he had in mind were worth every ache and pang he felt.

After finishing the meal and his glass of water, he was guided to what he assumed was the Main Hall. A long stretch of carpet separated the two, though neither of them spoke before he ascended the bottom flight of stairs to stand on the dais. He flashed a smile at her. Fauvel certainly wasn’t a child anymore. Gone was the innocence and wonder that he saw in her a decade ago as a lordling. She was harsher now, but, he supposed that happens after you witness the execution of your own family members. “Lady Astier,” a smooth baritone called out as he gave his own, though unnecessary, bow. Fauvel, he wanted to say. But, unfortunately, he could not say that he was here on light matters this day. “It was well enough, thank you for asking. A bit rough on my companion and his mount, but, I’m sure they’ll both be fine with enough rest. Thank you for your kind gestures, the food was much needed. I hope I did not disturb you too much, I should have sent word ahead of my arrival.”

Elias considered once more how to phrase what he meant to say and wondered again if he should play it off as seeing an old ally for old times’ sake. She’d see through that immediately and likely take offense as well, especially after offering food and beds. He cleared his throat softly. “I came to Blood Reign to offer an alliance, a sponsorship even in the realm of the High Court. Perhaps I should have come sooner, but I needed time to garner my own support after the passing of my own father. But, I know you do wish for your House to rise to greatness again and I do not believe you supported the rebellion of your House, yet we have both suffered for the sins of our fathers in our own way.” He paused there and waited patiently, clasping his hands behind his back to give her time to think and contemplate the beginning of his idea.

Fauvel Astier​

 

[Fauvel Astier]

Location: Widow's Wail, Regne de Sang, Illyria.
Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Elias Faivre

Long, stark white hair fell around her, red eyes lined in black as was the custom of her province meeting the man before her with a confidence that had been bred into her. The last time she had seen Elias Feivre, her house still held the title of Counts. She had also been no more than a child, although many would argue that the Lady of Blood Reign had never had anything childlike about her but her youthful appearance. Now that was being lost too as she flowered into adulthood.

"Not a disturbance in the slightest, Viscount. My halls shall always welcome those of the blood of House Feivre."

Courteous, proper. Niceties were a language all of its own when spoken by the tongues of noble birth. There was no dishonesty in her statement, quite the on the contrary Fauvel had always found the man to be quite capable and likeable - and only a handful were the ones to receive this judgement from the young lady. What was veiled, however, was her inquisitiveness. No noble would traverse into her gloomy realm with no reason, and the Lady wished to learn what had brought the Viscount to go to such lengths - but she did not ask. Patience, after all, was another language of those of the court needed to learn.

And Fauvel, pushed into such a precarious situation, had learned a lot about patience. Ridicule, disrespect, dishonor, struggle. Her nightmare would follow her into the waking hours of the day and through the spaces between seconds. Everlasting. Patience and resolve were all she had.

Her wait would not be long, for the Viscount soon announced the reason that had brought him to Regne de Sang. The lady's face remained neutral, unreadable, as she processed the words she had just heard. Could it be so? Had this dark day gifted her with such promising prospects? No one could blame the very young lady for her cautiousness. Ever since the beheading of her family, of their fall, those who had tried to reach them had done so with the intention of tearing apart the leftovers. Sleazy heretics. Cursed leeches the lot of them.

But this did not seem the case. She had no reason to doubt Feivre - and even if she did, even if her distrust had been large enough, turning him away was not an option. What would that sound like to the Court? Another hand of cards had been dealt, and as always, folding was not a privilege the Astiers could afford. So the Lady offered a small bow of her head in understanding, indicating that his words had been recognized and assessed.

"Please follow me, Viscount. May we discuss these matters in comfort." She would not have him discuss the terms of such generosity while standing in the middle of her main hall. Instead, she led him to one of the drawing rooms of the Widow's Wail, perhaps the only jewel of Blood Reign that remained as exquisite as it had once been, together with the Cinder Cathedral. Fauvel gestured for the Viscount to pick his seat, not taking her own until he had out of respect. A servant then walked forward, offering both a flute containing a beverage of a deep, dark red. The wine of Blood Reign was exceedingly unique, as were the vineyards where it was produced.

"I would lie if I said I am not surprised." The smooth voice flowed once again. It was no secret that associating himself with her family name could have consequences for him. Exactly why he was willing to face those possible consequences was something she did not know. Yet. "My House no longer has much in the way of friends, Viscount...Which is why I will hear your proposal with gratitude. What could Blood Reign offer Silver Crest in return for the generous pact you speak of?" Everything had a price, and she knew she was had been handed the short end of the stick. Feivre had all the advantages, and Fauvel could do nothing but hope the man was not simply trying to take advantage of a weakness that was not of her own making.

 

[Elias Faivre]

A L L I A N C E ​

​

Elias watched carefully as he awaited the young Lady’s judgement. Ultimately, it was her decision. In his mind, he had already weighed her options. She could decline and he could rat her out for it or he could leave it to simply be settled between the two of them. She could decline for fear that this was an elaborate trap, that his intentions were misled rather than to help her and her House navigate the infested waters of the High Court. What if he held a petty grudge like the other nobles? Would he have turned his back so quickly?

Or, she could accept. She could choose to trust him and he could hope that she would return that same level of trust. He looked on as she pondered the proposal, her face as blank as stone. A clever move on her part, especially because there was much she did not yet know for certain. “Of course,” he remarked cheerfully, walking slightly behind her as she led him to a drawing room. The smaller reception area was beautiful and as grand and haunting as the rest of Blood Reign as well as Blood Reign. At least here there was safety and privacy.

He took a seat by the fire at her bidding, looking up to notice a servant that seemed to appear out of thin air. The Viscount gave a smile and a nod to the servant, accepting the flute and pouring a glass for both himself and Fauvel. “Thank you very much.”

He took a sip of his wine as he listened to her remarks and let himself feel the heat bristle at his hands. In the roar of the flickering fire, he saw something briefly. Curiosity, caution, desperation even. As guarded and closed off as she was up in the mountains without any ally and hardly a rank in sight, he sympathized with her, even moreso because he knew her.

“I would like to think of myself as your friend, at least. We did grow up together after all. But, what I offer is an alliance and a trade deal. I could offer you security, men, weapons, armor. I will also offer my backing if you are willing to reenter society instead of being cooped up in these gods forsaken mountains like a hermit. Perhaps, if this new deal is successful and remains that way, we could look into its expansion.” Another downing on wine passed through his lip as he looked into ruby eyes, the liquid cool with a bit of sweetness.

He took in a deep breath. “In return, I’d ask for your banks to set up shop in Silver Crest. Our management system could use some more professional help, I suppose you could say. They would oversee exported products that leave by way of the Col Nord. Terrestrial travel and incoming materials will, for the time being, be managed by Silver Crest’s workers. But, much of our trade is expedited by the river and so it is paramount that those trades and accounts are recorded and kept up to date.” He leaned back in his chair slightly to avoid overheating from the blaze, dark eyes flicked with strands of gold. What exactly he expected, even he was uncertain. Elias could only hope that she would make a choice that would help herself in the long run.

“What say you, Fauvel?”

Fauvel Astier​

 

[Fauvel Astier]

Location: Widow's Wail, Regne de Sang, Illyria.
Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Elias Faivre

It would seem as though the man would not cease to surprise her. It was true, she had known Elias Faivre for many years - well before she had to carry any of the weights that now rested over her shoulders. Such a mighty charge for someone so young. Her childhood had ended prematurely, and Fauvel was nothing if not the results of a fate that had been utterly unfair. But the Lady of House Astier did not believe in luck, nor in destiny. She believed in her own power and in the guidance of the Dark, and so no complaints were issued. There was only effort towards seeing her will accomplished.

She was a skeptic, distrust a learned and well-versed skill she had always been predisposed to and that had been rightfully honed in the later years. And yet there was nothing about the Viscount that seemed to deserve her cynicism. Unless he was better in the art of the deceit than she was, the young Astier had no choice but to believe that this was indeed a truthful sentiment. Elias Faivre had not forgotten the bonds of respect and trust that once tied their houses before her cursed father ruined hers.

The young Lady kept her silence as he elaborated on his proposal. She found every single one of his points agreeable, fair, just. The voice of her grandfather advising against that which sounded too good to be true resonated within the confines of her mind - but her judgement was hers and hers alone. Fauvel made no attempt to hide it from the Viscount as she held his gaze, this decision was not a matter of benefit for in that respect the answer would have undoubtedly be a positive one.

It was a matter of trust.

And Fauvel still had a hard time embarking in gambles she had no control of, even if that was often the only kind of possibilities she was offered in the present. Did she trust Elias Faivre? She could feel the darkness that loomed around him, and pondered on her own as she allowed it to whisper in her ear. Then he asked the question, and against all expectations the shadow of a smile curved the lips of the pale Astier when she heard her name spoken by the Viscount, pleased with cutting the formalities and the familiarity with which he still addressed her by. Such a rare and hauntingly beautiful sight.

"I say the Darkness smiles upon our meeting today, Elias. You offer terms I would gladly accept, and it is with no short measure of joy that I would see an alliance between our houses rebuilt. The man I am disgraced to call father began a fire I could not stop, but from its ashes I shall restore Blood Reign to the glory it has lost," Her hand gestured towards the tall window panes to the side of them, the darkened city of Blood Reign looking back at them beyond it. The Cinpelier that was wrapped around her wrist dangled loosely, its silvery shine catching the eye and giving a meaning to her choice of words that only those familiar with the province's customs would be able to comprehend in its entirety. Then the glowing ruby gaze returned to the Viscount.

"I will not pretend to ignore the risk you are taking in extending this offer. I, too, would call you a friend."​

 

[Elias Faivre]

F R I E N D S H I P ​

The young Lady of Blood Reign chose trust.

The tension that had built up in his chest was released momentarily as Fauvel agreed to the arrangement he’d proposed. As he saw a smile ghost across her features. For the briefest moment, she was a child again. The girl he’d known before the fall, the one he helped to mentor and guide. “You’ve grown guarded, skeptical even. Is that the imprint he left on you? Did it take the destruction of everything you held dear to dim your outlook?” All too quickly, that version of Fauvel Astier was gone, replaced by the thick-skinned Red Lady. A matriarch that was still a child but one that had lost the innocence and wonder that came with youth.

When Fauvel spoke of her father, of ashes and flame, it reminded him of a song they learned as children. One that was hauntingly and dreadfully foreboding after the events of the past few years. One that they shouldn’t have known at the time. One they overheard Fauvel’s father sing on a few eavesdropping sessions.

[ When I was sixteen, my senses fooled me,
Thought gasoline was on my clothes. ]

She’d been a year younger when the fall happened. When her family was executed, titles all but stripped, province disgraced and dubbed Blood Reign. Her father openly opposed the change that came with the arrival of Malvern and doomed himself, his family, and his people to shame. Elias couldn’t say that he blamed Fauvel for wanting to undo those wrongs. Even if she merely inherited the sentence of an outcast. How does one so young cope with a loss so infinitely devastating?

[ I knew that something would always rule me,
I knew this sin was mine alone…
When I was a man, I thought it ended,
When I knew love’s perfect ache,
But my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake. ]

He did not have many regrets in life. He did exactly what he meant to when he meant to do it. However, failing to come to Blood Reign sooner to offer his support was one of the largest ones that he knew of. If anyone shouldn’t have turned a blind eye, it was him. This would not entirely make up for the transgression, but it was indeed a start. Elias found himself delving into the Dark, eyes melting into molten gold. There was anger towards himself behind the regret. He recognized that, allowed it to run its course as he took another drink and watched the flames in the hearth.

“You were a pawn, Fauvel.” His gaze returned to her as his thoughts and consciousness returned to the present moment.

“One of many sacrificed by a king in the grander scheme of a plan. I cannot undo the damage that you have endured nor can I replace lost trust in the Crown or the Court. But, I can offer you this. I intend to offer more before I take my leave. But, for now, do you remember the song we often overheard your father sing when he thought himself alone? Can you recall the words?” What followed next was a baritone that maintained control, even as his presence in the Force raged wilder than any forge in Silver Crest. It extended even to the hearth beside them, causing the flames to roar and fill the space allowed by the stone casing, sending plumes of black smoke out into the morning sky.

His eyes burned as he looked into eyes the color of blood, almost as though he were looking through her. “All you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash.” The lyrics were followed by a pause as he seemed to look deeper. He knew her certainly. He had known her. But, the Fauvel that he remembered had been diminished, snuffed out like the others of her house. “When you do reenter society, Lady Astier, command their attention. Find your fire again, fill every room you enter and set it ablaze.”

His lips curled to show gleaming teeth. “Give them something to obsess over. Allow them to ignore you no longer.”

He allowed the Darkness to hang in the liminal space between them, surrounding the pair on all sides. Yet even it was held at bay, though it sucked the heat from the room whilst the fireplace spewed an inferno. “I ask that you make another consideration. As I said, I cannot replace the people or pride that you lost. I cannot change the sins of your father. But, I can extend an offer to be a father figure as I once was. Simply put, I’m asking that you consider being my ward.” He leaned forward in his chair, as if imparting vital information to the young woman across from him.

“You will remain your own person, your province and House and titles your own. I will not expect House Astier to become bannermen of Faivre. I simply want you to be protected. From whoever and whatever the danger may be. You are, of course, capable of handling yourself as you’ve shown over the years. This is simply an added layer.” There was an odd twang in his inflection, a pitch and yaw that mimicked the storm beneath and still managed to reveal the hurt that was the root of all.

“I would not ask you to make such a sacrifice if I did not believe it necessary, Fauvel.”

Fauvel Astier ​

 

[Fauvel Astier]

Location: Widow's Wail, Regne de Sang, Illyria.
Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Elias Faivre

There was a chuckle as he pointed out reality itself. Skeptical was a kind way to put it, he had always known how to choose his words well. It soon faded into a smile that, for the very first time in a long while, betrayed emotion. Pain, loss. Fauvel Astier had never spoken of her grief, not with any living soul. There had only been curses set upon the ancestors that had failed her line. But there was never a tear, never a complaint, not even a tremble of her lip. Not in front of others, much less another noble. But it would seem some bonds of the past still held true. Elias had known her before she had grown cold, and this perhaps made it hider to keep her well built facade up.

"I'm afraid I wasn't even that." Even a pawn could hold power. She? She had been nothing but the backlash. The unfortunate consequence of a fool's choice. Fauvel had never loved her father, always too full of himself and taking the power that their lineage had cultivated throughout centuries for granted. She had, however, admired him. He had been great - until he decided to be a great failure.

The topic of her father was one sure to sour her mood, but the particular memory that the Count of Silver Crest brought up did not. Of course the Red Lady remembered the song. A song of fire and ash. The ruby eyes of the starweird held his gaze as he repeated the words, luring the flames that resided within her to flare up and meet his. A symphony of darkness within a drawing room. His words resonated within her, feeding that tempered sense of purpose that had always filled her. She had a duty to the people her progenitor had wronged. She had a prize to claim that should have always been hers.

"My trust in the Court may have been broken, but my trust in you has endured." Another decision, another roll of the dice. More often than not there was nothing left to do but hope that the right choice had been made, for she could not afford another mistake. But she knew Elias Feivre, and something deep within her was certain that this was not a mistake. "I need not consider your offer, I accept it." She gifted him a smile, that certain finality that was so distinctive of the strong character her family was known for lacing her tone. A young noble such as her, had the circumstances been different, it would have been a shock to the Court that she took no guardian House. But who would ever offer such assistance to the disgraced? In the past Silver Crest had been an ally, and she was certain her people would be happy to see this bridge rebuilt. A Ward to Lord Feivre was a title Fauvel could wear with pride.

There was something else that needed to be said. Many words could have been used to describe the dark lady of Regne de Sang, but ungrateful was not one of them. Not when she believed that the one deserving of it was being truthful. The look behind her blazing gaze said more than any words could, she had looked up to him like a brother and she knew she could do so again, and so he would not let him carry any guilt. "I have never blamed you for remaining distant, Elias, nor would I have if you had continued to do so. You did right by your people," He had done what her own father had not. "But, I count myself lucky that our paths cross again. I will not forget what you have done for me today."