In the Shadow of Virtue: On Borrowed Time?

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In the Shadow of Virtue: On Borrowed Time?

Post by Unknown » Sat Feb 26, 2011 12:36 am

September 16th, BY 461 – One day after Queen Dawn’s murder The Chancellor sat behind his copper-veined granite desk in his third floor office within the Jerred Ghyss Civic Center, nestled in Compassion Grove – the heart of Britannian civilian governance. His fingers steepled just under his chin, he appeared to be regarding a report placed before him. In actuality, he stared at nothing, lost in thought.  Those present in the room, members of the High Council, plus two, shared a similar disengaged affect.  This emergency session of the High Council that had been called felt perfunctory in the wake of national tragedy.    The unusually gloomy chamber reflected their mood.  Even the wall of Snowy Scenes snow globes depicting the eight Shrines of Virtue had lost its cheer.  Several lanterns struggled to illuminate the grand office, but their light only seemed to cast flickering shadows along the marble walls. The High Justicar Ra’Dian Fl’Gith, to the right of the Chancellor, leaned against an archway leading to a teleporter.  His arms were crossed before him within the voluminous sleeves of his emerald green robe.  His downcast gaze appeared to be scrutinizing the grain in the mahogany floor. To the Chancellor’s left, Minister of Foreign Affairs Malag-aste Hla-ate stood rigidly at attention, apparently staring at the wall just to the right of the Justicar.  The drow knight’s mask of inscrutability was firmly in place.  Only the death grip his dark hands had on his crossbow belied his inner turmoil.   Councilor Luicfer Darkwind stood next to the ankh by the office door, his right arm resting on the crossbar.  The brim of his feathered hat hid his eyes, but he appeared to be considering the contents of a small silver flask in his left hand. The surly drow standing to the left of the Chancellor broke the silence. “Must we wait, DaKaren?  She’s just going to get confused…” Without looking at the Minister of Foreign Affairs, or anything really, the Chancellor replied.  “We wait.” The two non-Council members were seated in the chairs before the stone desk.  The red and white clad librarian, Martyna Z’muir, sat sullenly in the western chair, absently twirling a lock of red hair with her left hand.  Antiques dealer Galen Knighthawke fidgeted with a buckle on his dark armor in the eastern chair.  While being far too tired to rise to the Minister’s bait, they both shared a brief humorless smirk. The somber mood ended as a wisp abruptly flew through the lone window in the chamber’s southern wall.  It stopped and hovered behind the seated pair, its nimbus of light flashing erratically. “Zlp Qwx’kp!” it sputtered, growing slightly brighter. The Chancellor nodded once. “There will be fine.  Thank you my friend.” “V’mb Yjft.” The pattern of the wisp’s light grew with a fevered intensity.  With a flash of emerald light and a peculiar tearing sound, a form tumbled onto the floor. The figure’s ragged green and brown dress made her instantly recognizable, as did her complimentary smell of fresh hay and manure. “Again!” Councilor Beauvina cried playfully, spitting stray strands of hair out of her mouth. “Dy’rp! Nv’x-stry!” The wisp sputtered harshly, before zipping out the window. “What did it say?” Beauvina asked, nearly toppling the small table between the two chairs as she tried to stand. Chancellor DaKaren glanced briefly at the High Justicar, “Ah, uhm, in the interests of decorum, it’s not relevant, Councilor.”  Ignoring the amused snort from the Minister, he continued.  “Please, we have much to discuss.” “Oh!  Are ya planning a party, your Chancellory-ness?  My birthdays’s not for a few more months, but let’s get started now!”  Beginning to pace around the room quickly, she continued without paying attention to her colleagues.  “I know!  Let’s have it in Jhelom!  I have sooo many friends there that I haven't seen in a while, human friends even!” She paused long enough to take a gulp of air before continuing.  “And.. uhm.. we can invite that cute Magnus guy… Mmm. That little baby dragon, what was her name, Miwendelly? Yeah, her…and uhm.. Hmm…  Oh, I know!  Queen Dawn!  The Jhelom cows just love her, she smells all Valory!  Whadjathink?” Beauvina finally stopped to look at those around her and noticed their pained expressions.  “What?  Do I have hay in my hair?” She quickly tousled her hair, trying to shake out any bits of hay.  “No?  Hmm.. Oh!”  Her face reddened.  “Uhm, if it’s the hoof marks on my back, I can explain that… Ya see, Perimoosyn and I…” “Councilor Beauvina, please… We…uhm…  Just stop…please…” DaKaren blurted quickly, holding up a long-fingered pale white hand towards her, he ignored the muffled laughter of the rest.  “I had you brought here because there has been a murder.  Queen Dawn is dead.” Against all odds, Beauvina immediately stopped and stared wide-eyed at the Chancellor, then the rest of the assemblage.  “Dead?” she croaked meekly. Minister Hla-ate snorted again, attaching his crossbow to a small hook at his waist. “Where the blazes have you been, woman?  The whole kingdom could fall down around your ears without you noticing anything past the horns of your damn cows!” High Justicar Fl’Gith stepped toward the desk, looking perturbed.  “I believe th’ Chancellor said somethin’ about decorum, Minister, or did ye ferget?” “ENOUGH,” DaKaren commanded in an unusually loud, but-not-quite-a-shout voice.  “We have bigger issues to discuss.  Save the petty squabbling for later.” “Like the next High Council session…” Luicfer mumbled under his breath just loud enough to carry, before taking a sip from his flask. Sighing loudly, the Chancellor reached under his desk for a moment before placing a silver sphere about the size of a large cantaloupe on its surface.  The sphere had two noticeable characteristics.  Firstly a beveled seam appeared to run around its equator, and secondly, a black band ran around the circumference about halfway up the top half.  This band, upon closer inspection, was made up of twenty-six black rectangles, each bearing a single rune. Curious, the six others leaned closer to the desk to get a better look. With a slight flourish, DaKaren tapped the apex of the sphere twice, causing the top to pop off into his hand.  He rummaged around briefly in the pockets of his royal purple robe before bringing out a handful of small black stones.  Before anyone could protest, he dropped the rocks into the open top of the sphere. “Wait,” Ra’Dian said calmly, “twas that what I think ‘twas?  Blackrock?  Should ye be fiddlin’ wi’ that ‘ere?” The Chancellor smiled at the Justicar.  “It’s the power source for my little toy here,” he gestured at the sphere.  “Not every use it has is for evil.” Before the Justicar could reply, the Antiques Dealer cut him off.  “Can’t be any worse than the worm and blackrock stew the Bane came up with.” “Indeed not,”  the Chancellor said, ending the discussion as he firmly replaced the top of the sphere.  Twisting the cap slightly caused three small unseen panels to flip up on the lower half of the sphere.  Three tiny silver legs silently slid out of the new openings, then snicked into place when they reached the desktop. DaKaren stood up from his chair, causing everyone else flinch slightly before leaning back to watch.  With four quick taps, the Chancellor touched the Des, Tym, Por, and Rel runes causing them first to glow a brilliant blue before extruding from the sphere.  They then rotated counter-clockwise until they were upside down before retreating back into the sphere, still aglow. As the Chancellor returned to his chair, the top half of the sphere abruptly rose to reveal an odd arrangement of translucent conical shapes moving around an energetic pulsing blue core.  Less than a second later, the blue light flashed out of the sphere to form a wavering energy field at the edges of the room around the occupants.  For several moments, everything within appeared as if it had several flickering indistinct copies superimposed, before settling back to normal. “What the bloody hell was that?” demanded Luicfer, as he stepped backwards slowly. “Time shiftin’, right?” suggested Ra’Dian.  “But that wasnae exactly magic… wha’ is that thing?” The Librarian raised an eyebrow at the Chancellor.  “I thought you hated time travel.” She sighed.  “Alright, when are we this time?” Smiling, the Chancellor leaned back in his chair.  “We are both when we were and where we were.   Technically…we have not traveled in any of the four dimensions.  I have merely slowed the perception of time in this room down to a fraction of the speed at which things normally move.”  He steepled his fingers before him and smiled again.  “We literally have all the time in the world.” “But I’m real hungry,” whined Beauvina.  “And Perimoosyn must be getting awfully lonely back there on that beach…er…fighting those Bane thingy-ma-boopers… Yeah…” “Ye didnae answer m’ question either,” prodded Ra’Dian. “Worry not. I don’t believe that this will take long, to be honest.” The Chancellor smiled again.  Looking to the High Justicar he said, “I cobbled together something from my own culture’s technology, a mix of both science and sorcery.  Currently, it is functioning as a temporal compression matrix running at a 60:1 ratio.  For every hour we spend inside this field, the outside world advances one minute.  The ratio is variable of course…” “Ah, naturally…” Ra’Dian said in a mildly sarcastic tone.  “Th’ real question is, ‘Why?’” “No, the real question is can we use this to save Queen Dawn?” Galen said eagerly.  “Reverse time and stop Ors?  Slip that blade into Virtuebane’s chest instead?” “Better yet,” started the Minister, “go back farther and prevent Virtuebane from ever entering Britannia!” The Chancellor looked crestfallen.  Locking eyes with Martyna, he flatly stated, “Nay.  Under no circumstances can this device be used to meddle with the timeline.  It’s not why I created it, nor is meddling something we should ever do.” “Again…” mumbled Martyna quietly. DaKaren narrowed his eyes at the librarian slightly, before trying to feign a look of tranquility.  “I created this device for Morgain, to ease her suffering.” He sighed.  “As some of you know, my daughter’s assistant fell ill several years ago with a strange form of sleeping sickness.  She can spend months in a comatose state, then spring awake for a week or so as if nothing was wrong.  This device was designed to slow time around her until a cure could be found, so her life wasn’t stolen away.”  He shook his head sadly.  “Unfortunately,” he continued, “the sphere has to be inside this field to operate.  Therein lays the problem.  While I can move in and out of the field freely, others cannot.” As if to demonstrate his point, Beauvina walked up to the shimmering energy field and playfully ran her hand across it.  For her curiosity, she received an electric jolt which caused her long brown hair to nearly stand straight out from her head.  She staggered slightly, a glazed look in her eyes.  She giggled.  “Why Peri, you naughty, naughty boy…”  Anticipating the dazed Councilor’s imminent face-first fall into the energy field, Galen relinquished his chair and steered her into it.  “You were saying, Chancellor?  Only you can move through the field?” DaKaren nodded.  “My race has a rather unique relationship with time.  Thus, other beings can only achieve a somewhat limited use of this particular configuration of the sphere.  At the moment, the time differential will allow us to speak freely without concern for an enemy eavesdropping.” “So we’re test subjects,” growled the Malag. “Nothing so dramatic, Malag,” DaKaren said reassuringly.  “I think we all know what Queen Dawn’s death means to the kingdom.  We need to be prepared for what is to come, for good and for ill.  With recent security leaks, I felt it prudent to take enhanced measures.” “Let’s get on with it then!  Beauvina isn’t the only one with an empty belly.”  Luicfer upended his flask, shaking it slightly. “I ‘ave th’ broad strokes o’ what ‘as ‘appened,” Ra’Dian started.  “Ors, under th’ control o’ Virtuebane, killed Dawn at th’ Ilshen Shrine o’ ‘umility, aye?” Galen nodded.  “The fucking bastard wouldn’t face us either, just sicced the damn blackrock golems on us after he was done gloating, and then disappeared.  And he thinks we wallow in Pride.”  He sighed and looked toward the floor.  “I’m sure the librarian can give you more details.” Martyna waited for a slight nod from the Chancellor before speaking.  “Galen summed it up rather succinctly,” she shrugged.  “We were pretty much helpless spectators, forced to watch as Dawn was killed.  Ors still lives.  He managed to flee through the stunned crowd.” “Tell them about the love thing,” Galen murmured, clearly depressed. “Aye, Virtuebane said that he controls Love now.  He also implied that he controlled Truth as well.”  She crossed her arms before her, burying her amethyst hands under her elbows.  “Apparently only Courage is left, and he’ll corrupt that through taking our cities.” “Like Hell he will,” stated Malag harshly.  “I will personally drive off each of his damned Chosen if I have to.  Not a single city has fallen yet, it’s not about to start now.” “Here, here, Malag!”  Councilor Darkwind raised his empty flask in salute, lightening the mood. “Th’ throne sits open.  I presume that’s what concerns ye, DaKaren?” asked the High Justicar. “Indeed, Ra’Dian.” The Chancellor nodded.  “This game of musical chairs we seem to play with the kingdom’s leadership is a dangerous one.  What if another Casca comes to power?”  His mood darkened.  “Or worse yet, Minax.” “She smells like evil poopie!” burbled the still-dazed Beauvina. “Minax?  Do you really believe that’s possible?”  Martyna asked.  “I mean sure, Casca was a puppet of the Shadowlords, and we’ve had traitors in the castle that…wait…nevermind.  Anything is possible.”  She sighed.  “As long as it’s not Lord Kendal, I’ve had enough of idiot politicians.” Realizing the company she was in, she quickly looked around the room and tried to smile innocently.  “No offense to present company, of course.”  She glanced at the woman in the chair next to hers. “Most of you, anyway…” “Moo…” replied Beauvina, gingerly poking at the yellow vase on the small table between them. “What are you thinking of then, a coup?” asked Galen as he looked up from the floor.  “All hail King DaKaren?” The Chancellor chuckled.  “Nay, I have no aspirations to rule Britannia.  Unlike Lore, my sights have never been on the throne.  The High Council is sworn to uphold the Crown, or the Ruling Council.  At present, we have neither.” “What about them fancy-pants Lords in Britain?  Aren’t they the Ruling Council?” interjected Luicfer. “Nae accordin’ t’ Britannian Law,” explained Ra’Dian.  “After th’ Rulin’ Council was assassinated an’ Casca took th’ throne, that Council appeared t’ exist in name only.  Under Dawn’s reign, tis simply been a group o’ aristocratic advisers an’ legislators.  They derived their power directly from ‘er, as twas in th’ early days o’ Lord British.” “Like I said, idiot politicians,” Martyna stated harshly.  “We’ve seen the affect their legislating out their asses can have.  The ‘Britannian Peace Act’ being a prime example of shortsightedness in action.  If some moron like Kendal ascends to the throne, I’ll lead the revolt myself.” “A bloody revolt?” asked Galen, coming to stand behind the librarian.  “Perhaps the High Justicar would like to issue your arrest warrant now?” Martyna shrugged, a smirk twitched at the edges of her lips.  “If need be.” Ra’Dian made a show of rolling his eyes.  “She’d simply slip int’ th’ shadows an’ pelt me wi’ magic snowballs if I did that,” he joked. “So what should we do then, Chancellor?” prompted Malag.  “We can’t sit idle while the whole kingdom spirals into despair!” “We act when the time is right.  For now, we wait, we watch, we listen, ” DaKaren answered matter of factly.  “The right person will appear, though I think it needs to be someone with whom the people are familiar.  Hmm,” he paused in thought.  “What would Minister Grey think of a promotion?”  He looked at the five people in the room who were secretly agents of the Ministry of Security. He knew that three of them held the rank of Assistant Royal Spymaster. Galen coughed nervously.  “I’m just an antiques dealer of course, so I can’t speak formally on much.  But, I don’t think Grey would want the job.  Like me, I believe he is content in his current position.” “We need him where he is,” Malag said flatly. The Chancellor nodded.  “Aye, it was just an idea.  He’s demonstrated an ability to lead and to see a job through to conclusion, qualities to be admired.”  He shrugged.  “Some of the best leaders are the ones who never wanted the job, who never sought to rule.” “Power corrupts,” Ra’Dian said quietly.  “Those who seek it should be watched all th’ more.” “The cows will watch them,” Beauvina said conspiratorially, having regained her version of full awareness.  “I’ll get Sir Loyne to de… depl…uhm…deploy…yeah…deploy bovine spies in the castle.  Nobody will ever know they’re there!”  She smiled happily, reveling in the idea.  “I’ve had special ninja outfits made for them and everything!  Black is soooo slimming!” “It must be really scary inside your head,” mumbled Martyna. “Kinda like a naked, blindfolded run through the Abyss.” “It’s fun!” declared Beauvina.  “Nothin’ like the yew tree jammed up your…”  The remainder of her retort was cut off by Galen’s black-gloved hand clamping firmly over her mouth. “That will be quite enough, out of both of you, ‘ladies,’” ordered the perturbed looking Chancellor.  “I believe that will also be enough from you as well, Lord Knighthawke.”  He motioned at the hand covering the startled Councilor’s mouth. Sighing, Galen released his grip and stepped back behind Martyna, glaring at Beauvina throughout.  “As you wish, Chancellor, though one slight twist…” “Alright, I can see we need to get back on track,” DaKaren said dryly, idly poking at the report next to the sphere.  Turning to his right, he addressed the blue elf.  “Ra’Dian, could you ask Lord Valeryx if Dracona could spare someone to keep an eye on Minax and her minions?” “I’m sure somethin’ could be arranged,” the High Justicar replied, nodding slowly.  “Since th’ Temple o’ Mondain ‘as been so quiet, someone could be spared th’ desert ‘eat.” “Grand.  Thank you.” The Chancellor smiled before turning to Martyna.  “I am loathe to intrude, but will you be publishing anything regarding the murder?” The librarian let out a long, slow sigh and stared at her lap.  “Eventually, aye.  Fortunately, Lava got something across the news network already.  I…” she trailed off, sighing again.  “Sorry, getting into the right mood has been difficult.  I don’t want to come across all doom and gloom, but I also don’t want to lessen the emotional impact either.”  She shrugged, her eyes still downcast. “Write from the heart,” Galen said softly, patting her right shoulder.  “It’s cathartic.” “No rush, Martyna,” DaKaren said with a small smile.  “I’m sure your muse will return.” Turning to his left, DaKaren looked to the white-clad Malag.  “I don’t think this really needs to be said. However, since the Grand Marshal is indisposed, I’d like your Knights to work with the other branches of the B.A.F. to swiftly counter anything that Virtuebane does.” “Of course,” nodded the Minister. He then looked at Galen and Luicfer.  “I know we can all work together to crush the demon srow.” Both men nodded and said “Aye,” in unison, showing their solidarity of purpose. The Chancellor leaned back in his chair once more, causing it to creak slightly. “Grand.  Now we are getting somewhere.”  He paused before addressing his next question to the room. “What of Ors?  Having him wandering the countryside seems dangerous.  More to him, than us.  If someone recognizes him….” “He’ll be killed by an angry mob,” Luicfer said with a snort.  “Good riddance.” “That could be cathartic as well,” started Galen. “Per’aps Virtuebane ‘as won already!  Compassion ‘as apparently fled from our company in terror!” Ra’Dian fumed, coming closer to the stone desk.  “Let’s just abandon th’ Virtues altogether, go on a killin’ spree, an’ take out th’ Bane!” “Why not?” countered Galen angrily.  “They wouldn’t hesitate to kill everyone in this entire room!” “They’ve tried, several times,” Malag growled, slamming a fist into his other palm.  “Why shouldn’t we forcibly deprive the daemon his army, or better yet, the army of its leader?” “An’ thus th’ separation ‘tween us an’ them!”  The High Justicar threw up his arms.  “We follow th’ Virtues, they follow evil.  If we start actin’ like them, we’re nae better.” “Spare us the melodrama, boys,” Martyna said loudly as she looked up from her lap and uncrossed her arms, interrupting the argument.  She ignored the Chancellor’s raised eyebrow.  “We all know the fine line we walk with the Virtues, but evil must be met head on.  Allowing it to fester in the shadows in the name of Compassion, or even Justice, is a conceit,” she punctuated her point by stabbing the air before her with her right index finger.  “For the sake of the Virtues, we must sometimes be ruthless in our pursuit of evil.” “We risk losin’ our way,” Ra’Dian shook his head sadly. “Why risk allowing evil to continue, knowing it will only come back to bite us in the ass?” Martyna asked with unusual passion.  “Being intended as Nosfentor’s next host body has given me a unique perspective on the evils we permit to exist.”  She shrugged and looked back down at her lap, folding her hands before her as the true meaning of her words sunk in. Before the increasingly uncomfortable conversation could go further astray, the Chancellor tried to steer it back on track.  “Everyone’s relationship with the Virtues is personal,” he said calmly.  “Let’s remember that.  Now, we should strive to find and protect Ors.  What do we know?” Martyna looked up and answered, raising a coy brow.  “Well, the Ministry of Security and the Royal guards haven’t been able to locate him for months, but…”   She was interrupted by a loud bang and a shower of multi-hued sparks as the office door swung through the energy curtain.  A dark blur beyond the threshold quickly burst through the barrier with a popping sound.  The form shimmered indistinctly for a moment before solidifying into the form of Dot Warner, the Chancellor’s daughter. “What the Abyss was that about?” she demanded, looking about the room perplexed.  When her eyes fell on the sphere, she shot her father a dirty look.  “You and your toys!  You made me use all my good platinum on that thing…” Stunned by her arrival through the barrier, DaKaren stared at her blankly for a moment.  Finally, he was able to speak.  “How did you do that?  How did you get through the door?” “Turned the knob, pushed forward, then walked?” she said, questioningly.  “One foot in front of the other…Repeatedly?”  Her left eyebrow rose incredulously.  “Anyway, I have news.  The Bane just started to lay siege to Britain!  They marched past the moongate a few minutes ago.” “To arms!” bellowed Luicfer. DaKaren quickly tapped the still-glowing Des, Tym, Por, and Rel runes around the sphere.  Once more, they extruded from the device and rotated clockwise back into proper alignment with the others.  The sphere closed as the runes retreated back inside, the glow only diminishing once all movement had ceased.  The energy curtain surrounding the office sputtered a few times before fading away. “It is safe to leave.  Go with the Virtues, my friends.  And please, find Ors.”  DaKaren ended the impromptu meeting. “Payback time,” hissed Malag as he headed for the door, a disturbing grin forming as he readied a bolt on his crossbow. Most everyone followed Dot out of the office calmly.  However, Beauvina chose to charge towards the open door with a bull-like bellow, two fingers pressed against her temples like faux horns.  The High Justicar tried to stifle a chuckle as he stopped at the front edge of the Chancellor’s desk, intending to stay behind. “I thought ye said only ye could pass through th’ barrier.  ‘ow Could Dot do it?” Ra’Dian asked, coming to sit where Martyna had been.  “Attitude alone?” he smirked. “I have no idea,” DaKaren said quietly, still taken aback. “It should have killed her.  Fried her to a crisp.” “Hmm…”  The High Justicar looked thoughtful.  Cocking his head to one side, he asked, “Years o’ bein’ around ye?  Or blackrock?” “Unlikely, my friend,” DaKaren responded, shaking his head.  He crossed his legs, placing both hands on his right knee.  “I can pass through because I’m not like, well, you.” “Nae e’eryone can be such perfection,” Ra’Dian quipped, holding his arms out for mock adoration. “I think Dot’s right, that mullet is eating your brain,” the Chancellor laughed.  “I know, I know, it’s not a mullet.”  He held out a hand to quell any further sarcastic retorts.  “My species hasn’t been truly corporeal for a very, very long time.  In fact, not for many of our metacycles.  Hence, the energy barrier the sphere produces is of no consequence to us.” He shrugged.  “But Dot…there’s a notion I’ve had for a while now, since a few months after Martyna was rescued from Nosfentor in fact…”  He shrugged again, looking a bit distant.   After a few moments he continued.  “The friend of a friend once told me that Dot was more than she appeared. That we’d been brought together for a reason.  Ever since the day I found her outside Wind I felt she was special.” “She definitely be unique,” Ra’Dian commented, sounding earnest. “Perhaps one day I’ll figure it out.”  DaKaren placed his palms on the desk to stand up.  “But today, let’s go tell those Bane Chosen what Britannia thinks of regicide.  I believe something in the range of ‘Corp Por’ would do nicely.” Ra’Dian smiled as he stood as well.  “I believe th’ repetition o’ ‘Kal Vas Flam’ a few ‘undred times or so might brighten m’ mood.” DaKaren quickly stowed the silver sphere in the secret compartment beneath his desk.  “Let’s be off then. Can’t let Malag and the others have all the Chosen to themselves…”
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