On Authroc's Wing
I
Demands
(Shard I)
(Shard I)
“You've been neglecting your duties.” The voice came from behind the young man who sat in a large wooden chair. He lifted his head to watch as a cloaked figure walked into the room, passed by him, and approached a far more opulent chair behind a desk. The room around them both was carved from stone and dimly lit by several candles scattered on shelves around the periphery.
The cloaked figure dropped a sheaf of parchment, wrapped in a leather cover tied with twine, upon the desk as if they were unburdening themselves of a tremendous weight. From beneath the hood of the robes, the young man could see two black eyes that stared accusingly from the shadows. The figure remained standing for a moment as they let their right index finger trail across the leather surface of the folder in a slowly moving straight line.
“You must think you’re special, don’t you?” The figure leaned in slightly, revealing a dark and well-trimmed beard as it pointed from beneath the hood. “The youngest Master of the Authrakallin Oracles ever to be appointed.” Those same dark eyes narrowed, and within hooded shadows, aged skin pulled up in a scowl of derision. “Just because you’re Toulam’s pet doesn't mean you have what it takes to hold such a title-” The figure leaned in further and grit its teeth with disgust as it spoke the next word. “Boy.”
The young man sitting in the chair kept his eyes pointed forward and did his best to ignore the words of the cloaked man. He could feel himself gripping the wooden arms of his chair with biting fingernails. He did all he could to steady his heartbeat and breathing as well as not let his emotions bubble up in his face.
The robed figure turned to stand at the head of his desk, he lifted his fingers up to cradle them over his chest. The figure lifted his head slightly to look from beneath his hood. He watched the young man’s face intently and then slammed both of his hands onto the surface of the desk. This threatening impact caused the young man to jump in his chair.
As quickly as he jumped, the young man openly winced as he felt the figure’s ephemeral attentions flow over him. The robed man was reaching out daggers made of thoughts to rake and prod at his psyche. He let those invisible points scrape over the surface of the young man’s mind, slicing up the top-most defenses he could muster in such a short time.
The figure continued his telepathic interrogation until he finally found an unprotected and shadowed wound buried near the back of the young man’s mind. He thrust his probing daggers into this area drinking deeply of the hidden wellspring of inadequacy and fear lying within. The robed figure smiled broadly, not doing anything to hide the fact that he enjoyed the feelings he had finally found within the young man.
As immediately as the telepathic onslaught started, the robed man recoiled his invisible daggers back into his own mind. The robed figure used one of his corporeal hands to lift the hood away from his head and slumped down into his padded chair. With his other hand, he began to massage the hair above his upper lip in a self-satisfied fashion.
“We both know that your appointment to the title of Master was a mistake.” The older man continued to rub at his mustache as he flicked open the knot of twine of the folder in front of him. His long back hair reached to his shoulders and gray was beginning to gnaw away at his sideburns as well as a lock of hair near his widow’s peak. “All of us who have spent enough time to attain our titles know well that Toulam’s time with us is ending.” The man looked from the sheaf of revealed parchment to the young man’s face. “He’s a doddering old fool; age is catching up with him and his mind is slipping.”
The older man watched the younger man to see if he reacted at all to the words he just spoke but was disappointed at not seeing the reaction he wished. The young man kept his gray eyes focused forward, staring at some far-off horizon. He had closely cropped brown hair with shimmerings of blonde that caught the candlelight dancing at the edges of the room. His features were handsome as the roundness of youth was falling to the sophisticated jaggedness of age. The youth that the older man noticed made him repulsed at the young man’s impertinence, while at the same time drawing his attention in a strange mixture of jealousy and lust.
“Well, Leiros, what do you have to say about all of this?” The older man’s words were deliberately vague as he grinned while leaning back in his chair. He was hinting both at the statement he started the interrogation with as well as what he had just said about the Grandmaster. He wanted to see which Leiros would jump at first, and how he would try to defend himself or his mentor. He prodded the young man once more with an impatient, “Hmm?”
Leiros slowly let his gaze pull from a million miles away to focus directly upon the eyes of the older man. He took his time shifting forward in his seat until he was barely on the edge of it. He lifted his arms calmly up, letting the sleeves of his robes fall back, as he placed each of his elbows firmly on the older man’s desk. Even more slowly, he placed his right hand over his left in a tent on the desk and leaned in. He watched as the older man pushed back and pressed up against his chair. A very slight smile spread across Leiros' lips as he noticed the older man getting uncomfortable now that he was able to defend himself.
“If you and the other Masters think I am neglecting my duties, that is entirely your prerogative.” Leiros spoke calmly and slowly with as much decorum as he could muster, but the respect in his tone was lost. “Since we are all peers in standing here, it would be as much your duty to inform me of what I’m lacking, as it is mine to enact it.” Leiros let his hands fall to the table with a controlled thud. “Wouldn’t you say?” He cocked his head to the side while keeping his eyes focused like trained blades on the older man.
“As for your lack of faith in my abilities-” Leiros took a breath and began to lift himself up from his chair. “As I remember well from my years of training in this Order, it is the Grandmaster who has final say on who is and is not to attain the title of Master.” He got up to his full height and leaned on the desk to tower over the shifting older man. “If Toulam believes that I have what it takes to hold such a title, it is not up to you to dispute it. After all, it would be most uncomfortable for you — I would presume — if I were to have your title revoked because I found you wanting. Would it not?” He leaned further in and narrowed his eyes. “If it were left to us Masters to take each other’s titles, would not our entire Order fall into chaos? We wouldn’t want that, now would we, Master Gwain” He opened his eyes fully, revealing his angered intent with contracted pupils.
Gwain shifted in his seat and leaned fully back against the padded fabric of his chair. The older man held his hands up against his chest almost like limp claws ready to jump forth and rake at Leiros’ face. The look on his face and his body language revealed his disgust, his rage, and that same kind of strange lust towards the power that the young man was demonstrating over him. The last feeling, being revealed more in Gwain’s face more than his body, made Leiros feel sick to his stomach.
“As for your unfortunate words concerning our Grandmaster-” Leiros took in a deep breath, dropping his eyes to the sheaf of parchments on the desk. He couldn’t keep looking at Gwain as the old man began to lick his lips while his pupils dilated. “I would do well to remind you that wisdom comes with age and esteem comes from responsibility. Toulam has served as our Grandmaster for centuries longer than any other that has come before him.”
Leiros reached out with one of his hands, willing to cut into the old man’s space, and snatched up a handful of parchments. He lifted them up to cover Gwain’s face and let his eyes trail over the runes scrawled across them. They were nothing more than notes on some auguries he was commissioned to do for some nobles back in Morrthault City.
“Grandmaster Toulam has spent his life researching the works of our Order’s founder, Vhaltenesh. As such, he knows far more about how our Order should function, rather than someone who has spent their life rooting through entrails and manipulating nobles for coin.” He took a moment to calm his nerves so that he could keep his next words in a reserved tone. “My own researches into the works of Vhaltenesh has revealed the importance of a strong moral center to our work. We are the warrior-oracles of the Hoelatha people, after all. Would it not be a shame then if one of our Masters were to be accused of trying to undermine the leader of our Order?”
Leiros threw the parchments back on Gwain’s desk without care. He looked the old man square in the eye and openly snarled his contempt. He could feel his fingernails cut through the wood on the desk as he curled them and used his palms to push himself back up to his feet.
“Mentioning Toulam’s age isn’t a crime, boy.” Gwain’s spine had returned as he jumped forward and grabbed the edge of his desk with clawed hands. His eyes were fully dilated, and the dark brown of his irises could barely be seen. The look he held was more anger now than lust, and it made him slightly less repulsive in Leiros’ view.
“Claiming that he is inept at his duties is, however.” Leiros slammed his palms on the desk and delighted for a moment at the flinch that the older man gave. “Of course, you could just be mentioning your personal feelings concerning the Grandmaster. Maybe the word ‘doddering’ is charming in your view?”
He watched as Gwain leaned forward while sitting and placed both of his hands lightly on his desk. The older man smiled broadly and began to nod along with Leiros’ words while slowly lifting his chin higher up. Leiros pulled back with an open look of disgust and crossed his arms over his robed chest.
“So be it.” He closed his eyes and took a moment of calm and then opened them back up to stare from the side at Gwain. “I could always mention what you just did to me to the other Masters while I mention to Toulam how you think of him.” He held his eyes on Gwain as the older man furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Inform you of your adequacies as a Master of the Authrakallin?” Gwain gave out a cruel laugh after his words. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings, boy?” He lifted himself to his feet and leaned over his desk.
“No, not at all. As I mentioned a few moments earlier it is your duty as a Master to make sure I am fulfilling mine.” Leiros cocked his head to the side with a feeling of smugness, knowing that he had trapped Gwain in the web of words he was weaving. “Or are you getting too old for this? Maybe your memory is failing you? Maybe I can refer to you as ‘doddering’ in a charming way from now on?” He kept his arms crossed and swiveled his shoulders.
“Get to the point. What are you accusing me of?” Gwain was growing irate at being confused and not having the upper hand in the situation. He grabbed up the strewn parchments on his desk and hurriedly flung them onto the folder while slamming the leather cover back down.
The cloaked figure dropped a sheaf of parchment, wrapped in a leather cover tied with twine, upon the desk as if they were unburdening themselves of a tremendous weight. From beneath the hood of the robes, the young man could see two black eyes that stared accusingly from the shadows. The figure remained standing for a moment as they let their right index finger trail across the leather surface of the folder in a slowly moving straight line.
“You must think you’re special, don’t you?” The figure leaned in slightly, revealing a dark and well-trimmed beard as it pointed from beneath the hood. “The youngest Master of the Authrakallin Oracles ever to be appointed.” Those same dark eyes narrowed, and within hooded shadows, aged skin pulled up in a scowl of derision. “Just because you’re Toulam’s pet doesn't mean you have what it takes to hold such a title-” The figure leaned in further and grit its teeth with disgust as it spoke the next word. “Boy.”
The young man sitting in the chair kept his eyes pointed forward and did his best to ignore the words of the cloaked man. He could feel himself gripping the wooden arms of his chair with biting fingernails. He did all he could to steady his heartbeat and breathing as well as not let his emotions bubble up in his face.
The robed figure turned to stand at the head of his desk, he lifted his fingers up to cradle them over his chest. The figure lifted his head slightly to look from beneath his hood. He watched the young man’s face intently and then slammed both of his hands onto the surface of the desk. This threatening impact caused the young man to jump in his chair.
As quickly as he jumped, the young man openly winced as he felt the figure’s ephemeral attentions flow over him. The robed man was reaching out daggers made of thoughts to rake and prod at his psyche. He let those invisible points scrape over the surface of the young man’s mind, slicing up the top-most defenses he could muster in such a short time.
The figure continued his telepathic interrogation until he finally found an unprotected and shadowed wound buried near the back of the young man’s mind. He thrust his probing daggers into this area drinking deeply of the hidden wellspring of inadequacy and fear lying within. The robed figure smiled broadly, not doing anything to hide the fact that he enjoyed the feelings he had finally found within the young man.
As immediately as the telepathic onslaught started, the robed man recoiled his invisible daggers back into his own mind. The robed figure used one of his corporeal hands to lift the hood away from his head and slumped down into his padded chair. With his other hand, he began to massage the hair above his upper lip in a self-satisfied fashion.
“We both know that your appointment to the title of Master was a mistake.” The older man continued to rub at his mustache as he flicked open the knot of twine of the folder in front of him. His long back hair reached to his shoulders and gray was beginning to gnaw away at his sideburns as well as a lock of hair near his widow’s peak. “All of us who have spent enough time to attain our titles know well that Toulam’s time with us is ending.” The man looked from the sheaf of revealed parchment to the young man’s face. “He’s a doddering old fool; age is catching up with him and his mind is slipping.”
The older man watched the younger man to see if he reacted at all to the words he just spoke but was disappointed at not seeing the reaction he wished. The young man kept his gray eyes focused forward, staring at some far-off horizon. He had closely cropped brown hair with shimmerings of blonde that caught the candlelight dancing at the edges of the room. His features were handsome as the roundness of youth was falling to the sophisticated jaggedness of age. The youth that the older man noticed made him repulsed at the young man’s impertinence, while at the same time drawing his attention in a strange mixture of jealousy and lust.
“Well, Leiros, what do you have to say about all of this?” The older man’s words were deliberately vague as he grinned while leaning back in his chair. He was hinting both at the statement he started the interrogation with as well as what he had just said about the Grandmaster. He wanted to see which Leiros would jump at first, and how he would try to defend himself or his mentor. He prodded the young man once more with an impatient, “Hmm?”
Leiros slowly let his gaze pull from a million miles away to focus directly upon the eyes of the older man. He took his time shifting forward in his seat until he was barely on the edge of it. He lifted his arms calmly up, letting the sleeves of his robes fall back, as he placed each of his elbows firmly on the older man’s desk. Even more slowly, he placed his right hand over his left in a tent on the desk and leaned in. He watched as the older man pushed back and pressed up against his chair. A very slight smile spread across Leiros' lips as he noticed the older man getting uncomfortable now that he was able to defend himself.
“If you and the other Masters think I am neglecting my duties, that is entirely your prerogative.” Leiros spoke calmly and slowly with as much decorum as he could muster, but the respect in his tone was lost. “Since we are all peers in standing here, it would be as much your duty to inform me of what I’m lacking, as it is mine to enact it.” Leiros let his hands fall to the table with a controlled thud. “Wouldn’t you say?” He cocked his head to the side while keeping his eyes focused like trained blades on the older man.
“As for your lack of faith in my abilities-” Leiros took a breath and began to lift himself up from his chair. “As I remember well from my years of training in this Order, it is the Grandmaster who has final say on who is and is not to attain the title of Master.” He got up to his full height and leaned on the desk to tower over the shifting older man. “If Toulam believes that I have what it takes to hold such a title, it is not up to you to dispute it. After all, it would be most uncomfortable for you — I would presume — if I were to have your title revoked because I found you wanting. Would it not?” He leaned further in and narrowed his eyes. “If it were left to us Masters to take each other’s titles, would not our entire Order fall into chaos? We wouldn’t want that, now would we, Master Gwain” He opened his eyes fully, revealing his angered intent with contracted pupils.
Gwain shifted in his seat and leaned fully back against the padded fabric of his chair. The older man held his hands up against his chest almost like limp claws ready to jump forth and rake at Leiros’ face. The look on his face and his body language revealed his disgust, his rage, and that same kind of strange lust towards the power that the young man was demonstrating over him. The last feeling, being revealed more in Gwain’s face more than his body, made Leiros feel sick to his stomach.
“As for your unfortunate words concerning our Grandmaster-” Leiros took in a deep breath, dropping his eyes to the sheaf of parchments on the desk. He couldn’t keep looking at Gwain as the old man began to lick his lips while his pupils dilated. “I would do well to remind you that wisdom comes with age and esteem comes from responsibility. Toulam has served as our Grandmaster for centuries longer than any other that has come before him.”
Leiros reached out with one of his hands, willing to cut into the old man’s space, and snatched up a handful of parchments. He lifted them up to cover Gwain’s face and let his eyes trail over the runes scrawled across them. They were nothing more than notes on some auguries he was commissioned to do for some nobles back in Morrthault City.
“Grandmaster Toulam has spent his life researching the works of our Order’s founder, Vhaltenesh. As such, he knows far more about how our Order should function, rather than someone who has spent their life rooting through entrails and manipulating nobles for coin.” He took a moment to calm his nerves so that he could keep his next words in a reserved tone. “My own researches into the works of Vhaltenesh has revealed the importance of a strong moral center to our work. We are the warrior-oracles of the Hoelatha people, after all. Would it not be a shame then if one of our Masters were to be accused of trying to undermine the leader of our Order?”
Leiros threw the parchments back on Gwain’s desk without care. He looked the old man square in the eye and openly snarled his contempt. He could feel his fingernails cut through the wood on the desk as he curled them and used his palms to push himself back up to his feet.
“Mentioning Toulam’s age isn’t a crime, boy.” Gwain’s spine had returned as he jumped forward and grabbed the edge of his desk with clawed hands. His eyes were fully dilated, and the dark brown of his irises could barely be seen. The look he held was more anger now than lust, and it made him slightly less repulsive in Leiros’ view.
“Claiming that he is inept at his duties is, however.” Leiros slammed his palms on the desk and delighted for a moment at the flinch that the older man gave. “Of course, you could just be mentioning your personal feelings concerning the Grandmaster. Maybe the word ‘doddering’ is charming in your view?”
He watched as Gwain leaned forward while sitting and placed both of his hands lightly on his desk. The older man smiled broadly and began to nod along with Leiros’ words while slowly lifting his chin higher up. Leiros pulled back with an open look of disgust and crossed his arms over his robed chest.
“So be it.” He closed his eyes and took a moment of calm and then opened them back up to stare from the side at Gwain. “I could always mention what you just did to me to the other Masters while I mention to Toulam how you think of him.” He held his eyes on Gwain as the older man furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Inform you of your adequacies as a Master of the Authrakallin?” Gwain gave out a cruel laugh after his words. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings, boy?” He lifted himself to his feet and leaned over his desk.
“No, not at all. As I mentioned a few moments earlier it is your duty as a Master to make sure I am fulfilling mine.” Leiros cocked his head to the side with a feeling of smugness, knowing that he had trapped Gwain in the web of words he was weaving. “Or are you getting too old for this? Maybe your memory is failing you? Maybe I can refer to you as ‘doddering’ in a charming way from now on?” He kept his arms crossed and swiveled his shoulders.
“Get to the point. What are you accusing me of?” Gwain was growing irate at being confused and not having the upper hand in the situation. He grabbed up the strewn parchments on his desk and hurriedly flung them onto the folder while slamming the leather cover back down.
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