Caleb Widogast (ermendrud) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-04-18 16:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread |
WHO: Caleb Widogast and J'mon Sa Ord
WHAT: Political Discourse
WHEN: Sunday, April 18th. Mid-Afternoon.
WHERE: The Library
STATUS: Complete
WARNINGS: References to canon violence.
If Caleb didn't learn to read a little slower, he was going to go through every book in this library and in Theo's library in just a few months. Even the ones he had no interest in reading, he would end up flipping through just for something to do. Unlike most of his friends, he'd never really had the opportunity to develop what one might call a hobby. This was it. This and the steady slog through the world of magic. At some point in his stay here, he would probably have to figure out something useful to do with himself. He could take up gardening, or writing, or maybe knitting. Maybe painting? Baking? The bright side of not being able to take anything back with him was that he could try anything and simply ignore his failures. He'd rarely had the opportunity to do that in the past. But the stakes were considerably lower here. And the only thing that seemed to be of utmost concern was passing the time in a useful manner. For now, however, he had books. He had a stack of five of them in his arms just then, carefully placing them back on their shelves with particular attention paid to the order of things here. There was a lot more variety in the stacks here, but he was steadily working his way through the shelves of history books. He pulled whatever caught his eye or seemed particularly relevant. Which was why he was placing books on pirates and dinosaurs back this week and idly skimming for something that looked a little bit worn or well-loved. He ended up with a couple of books on warfare, one on gardening, and another that appeared to be a semi-comprehensive outline of this world's mythology. That one was rather thick, so he thought that he should leave it at four for now. And these were ones he felt he should spend a bit of time with instead of just consuming and filing away in his own mental bank for later. One day, he'd find the limits of his memory's capacity, but he hadn't even brushed up against it yet. And so long as it was written word, he could tuck away anything and draw it forward again when it became necessary. Caleb had been on his way back out when he passed another figure and the scent of heat and smoke caught his attention. He paused and watched them move towards a table in a well-lit corner and begin to pull a tome and a pot of ink out of a simple brown pouch. He'd know a Handy Haversack anywhere. Even if Jester's was garishly pink instead of the normal dull brown, the extra-dimensional space within it was hard to disguise to anyone paying enough attention. He should just go, he thought. He shouldn't bother someone else in their peace. But Caleb had never much been one for should and shouldn't. So he shifted the books to one side and made his way towards the table and the not-quite-human being sitting at it. Though he had read a lot about different creatures throughout Exandria, it was hard for him to put his finger on what this one was. His first thought had been Changeling, followed by Kalashtar. He'd seen demons and fiends and Aasimar. He'd seen a handful of Gensai. They weren't any of those. And Caleb was instantly fascinated. He didn't immediately connect the face to the name he'd heard here and there, and maybe that was his own fault. But Caleb had never minimized himself in front of royalty. "May I join you?" he asked, still holding onto his books but prepared to set them down on the table as soon as he was given permission. J'mon lifted their gaze to Caleb and looked him over briefly before nodding and motioning to the chair across from them. "Please," they said. "I don't mean to interrupt, but-" he set his books down and slipped into the chair, more interested in the other person's face than he was in the book in front of them or the peculiar fiery orange and green quill they held. "Are you from Exandria too? I think," he said, his brain going in a hundred directions at once, "I've gotten the impression that there were more of us, but I only know my friends." "You only know the people that you know?" J'mon teased. "How peculiar." They chuckled softly as Caleb blushed and set the quill down in the cleft of their book. "I am, yes. Marquet. You?" Caleb knew of Marquet, but he had never had any reason to be there. There were parts of the Menagerie Coast that were still under the sovereign protection of the continent of Marquet, by virtue of immigration or trade. But Fjord would know more about that than they would. There were also the Marquesian Volstruckers who had been hunting them - or, rather, not hunting them - in those final moments in Nicodranas. He recognized the accent and the deep burnished bronze skin right away. "Blumenthal," Caleb said. "It's... in the Dwendalian Empire. Zemni Fields, specifically." "Ah," the sound was more of a revelation than a curiosity. "I have been to Deastok, but never so far north. The crystals we use in some of our airships come from just outside Rexxentrum. Though I have never had cause to accompany the merchants there." Caleb blinked. His brain was working, putting the pieces together. That tone of the royal we hit him in a familiar way. Essek spoke like that quite often when he was doing work for the Dynasty. Then it finally clicked together. Beau would have gotten there faster, he was sure of it, but she had a mind for political intrigue that he had just never possessed. The face and the words and the name all came together and Caleb sat up a little straighter in his chair. He watched as a knowing look passed across J'mon's face and they gently settled their chin in their upturned palm. They looked as though they were waiting, patient and a little amused, for Caleb to say something to acknowledge what he had just realized. "I-" he began, then halted. "You- You're the sovereign of Ank'harel." He'd absolutely butchered the pronunciation, but what could be expected with a Zemnian accent? "Mhm." "Oh." He exhaled slowly, fully aware that he was really staring now. It wasn't terribly dissimilar to being in the presence of Leylas Kryn, but the two of them couldn't have been more different. She was cold and austere, with an edge of brutalism to her very being even though she had shown them some degree of kindness more than once. J'mon, on the other hand, exuded warmth and comfort. Everything about them seemed simple but luxurious at the same time. They would have gotten on with Caduceus like a house on fire. Phrasing. Bad phrasing. Terrible phrasing. "My friend is from Port Damali," Caleb finally said, just fishing for something to say at all even if it came out sounding terrible stupid. "He's a sailor. Or he was. I think he's a pirate captain now." "You think?" J'mon seemed entirely content to let Caleb ramble like an idiot and so he did. "We're a bit land-locked right now," he continued. "But he contacted our ship to another friend while we're dealing with other things. No sense in it sitting in a port, after all." Especially when it, like all their previous ships, was very much stolen. "But we haven't checked in on them in a fair little while so it's hard to say where they are or what they're doing or if the ship is even still in one piece. We hope so. Its current captain is very good. A little strange. But very good. He's from Nicodranas." Something about that lit up J'mon's expression and they lifted their head off their hand to lean forward towards Caleb. "Nicodranas, you say? Now I have been there. It is a beautiful little city. I would say that its view of the sea is second only to our own Bay of Gifts. But perhaps I am a little bit biased there." They cocked their head to the side, a bit of hair sweeping down over their shoulder. "Do you only port there, or do you have other friends in the area?" That was a complicated question. Caleb didn't know how much he could or should divulge about his friends before they were even here. If any of them arrived here at all. He'd been lucky with Yasha and Caduceus. Less lucky with Artagan. He wasn't really one to name-drop either. Not that Jester didn't tell anyone who would listen who her Mutter was. Surely she wouldn't mind. "My friend's mother is the Ruby of the Sea," he finally said. "And we recently moved another friend's husband and son to the city." They weren't there currently, but it was probably best that no one actually knew that. "We've done a bit of work for Yussa Errenis, as well. Nothing major. Just... acquisitions." If the name of the city itself had drawn a smile from J'mon, the sound of Yussa's name just deepened it. It made perfect sense to Caleb, too. The two cities were connected by trade routes and while Yussa wasn't the official leader, he was someone who no doubt would have drawn attention from the leader of a sister city. The two of them had a similar otherworldly presence, too. But Caleb thought that might have something to do with the glamour Yussa had mentioned once and thought none of them remembered. Of course, Caleb remembered. He was hard-pressed to forget much of anything. And while he wanted to venture deeper down that path, he wondered if it wasn't rude to ask. Who was he, after all? He was little more than a librarian even when he had been part of the Academy and his recent turn towards mercenary work didn't make him much better. As a Volstrucker, he might have worked as a spy. If he had been capable of completing his training. But that didn't mean anything anymore. He was really just a wizard with a tattered coat and a fae cat. Still, though. He pressed. "Are you two acquainted?" he asked. J'mon hummed. "Loosely," they replied. "We have similar interests and we have traded resources a time or two. It is always wise to remain familiar with nearby mages of note. How is he doing?" Terrible was the answer on the tip of Caleb's tongue, but he supposed he didn't actually know that. He had suspicions. He knew enough of the Astral Plane now to know it probably wasn't great. But Yussa was also more powerful than he could ever dream of being and if anyone could fend for themselves in that environment, it would be him. But then again. They had needed to rescue him from Halas' Halls. "I genuinely don't know," he said, shaking his head. "He was indisposed last time we were in Nicodranas and we didn't have time to chat. But it's Yussa, I have no doubt that he's fine." It seemed they noticed his trepidation, but there was no lie to be found in his answer, only a slight twist on the truth. While a flicker of curiosity worked across their face, they didn't say anything more about it - or about him. And Caleb was relieved for that. What did put him off-kilter again was the question that did follow. "How does a boy from Blumenthal end up working for a man like Yussa, I wonder. And in the company of pirates and the children of courtesans, no less? It seems as though you keep very interesting company." Caleb shook his head. "It wasn't intentional," he said. "We fell together by accident and before I knew it I had become attached to them. It's really quite annoying at times because there's not a one of them who knows how to stay out of trouble for very long." Especially the Chaos Crew, he thought fondly. "And what circumstance brought you to them?" Another complicated question that Caleb didn't know how to answer. But he felt strangely compelled to. It was something in J'mon's gaze and the way they leaned just a fraction of an inch closer every time he said something that they found interesting. They seemed like someone with hundreds, if not thousands, of secrets swirling around in their mind. Caleb shifted with a little bit of discomfort and picked at a bit of thread on his bandages. He wished he had brought Frumpkin with him, but the cat had been sleeping curled up on Caduceus' legs when he'd left. He hadn't wanted to disturb either of them. He chewed on the inside of his lip and scraped a hand across his coarse stubble. "Have you heard of the Soltryce Academy?" he finally said. "I have." "I was a student there when I was much younger. One of the instructors took notice of me and promoted me to a more... elite program of study. Needless to say, I didn't graduate from the program. I've been quite the disappointment ever since." He pulled the Amulet of Protection out from the inside of his shirt and let it drop, visible. "He didn't take my leaving very well." There was a long, tense pause and Caleb desperately wanted to look away from J'mon's face. He wanted to bury his face in his hands or get up and leave. He didn't want to hear the response, no matter what it was. Beau had been the only one who had ever truly understood. It was why he trusted her to keep him in check, and why he felt so adrift without her here. It helped to have the ever-calming presence of Caduceus nearby. He had barely thought about Trent or the Academy or the things that happened there since his friend had arrived. There was joy in his presence. Comfort. Safety. Things Caleb hadn't felt in decades. He'd thought for years that he'd had those things ripped from him permanently and he was only just beginning to discover there were other options - other paths laid out in front of him. At last, J'mon nodded. There was a darkness in their gaze that Caleb knew all too well. But it was one that comforted rather than disturbed him. It was the same look his friends held when they'd sat down at a dinner table with Caleb's former instructor. It was the gaze Caduceus wore when he came up in conversation, even now. "What is his name?" "You won't remember it, once you leave here," Caleb said, shaking his head. "No, but I will remember it while I am here." "Ikithon," he breathed, the name like a curse on his tongue. "Trent Ikithon." "And what is it that you want from this Trent Ikithon?" No one had ever phrased the question quite like that, but it made all the difference. Asking Caleb what he wanted for himself was a mess. It changed from moment to moment and mood to mood. But when it was focused on a single subject like that it was so much easier for him to parse through his own feelings and come up with a single simple answer. "I want him destroyed," Caleb said. His voice was calm, even. Confident. "I want to see everything he has ever built torn down to the foundation. I want everyone in the Empire and beyond to know what he is. And when he falls, I want to be the one to deal the final blow. I want him to have to look me in eyes when it happens and know that he failed." If Caleb had been asked a month ago, the answer would not have been so simple. He'd wanted to undo what Trent had done to him, to go back in time and fix everything. But the uncomfortable truth that he had been forced to face was that even if he found a way to do that, it wouldn't bring him peace. He could have broken his conditioning and saved his parents, but he would have still been hunted down. They would have still died. He may have died. He would have never met the Nein, nor would he have had the connections or the support he had now - the things he needed to truly see justice served. His initial desire had been pure selfishness. Perhaps this was partially selfishness, too. But if Caleb could stop it, he would make sure that the Volstruckers were obliterated and could never pluck another innocent child from their parents' arms. "I hope you get your wish," J'mon said, softer now. They reached across the table and placed one warm hand on top of Caleb's. "We have a duty to root out evil where it sleeps and do whatever it takes to bring it to its knees." |