The Pawn
- Leacya
- Jul 23, 2021
- 9 min read
The air was stuffed with the overly sweet aroma of grapes and exotic flowers that the apprentice was quite likely not familiar with, since she would not identify them. Wide windows were open to welcome the morning sun, welcoming blinding, burning light into the chamber hosted by one of the estate's tall towers. It would be pleasing at the eye were it not making it weak, unable to witness such radiance. As for the room itself, the peach marble was covered by cardinal red silks and velvets, bearing details of gold, weaved with expensive thread. It was nothing but a meaningless living room among the many, an area that had marvelous prospects to become a study, had its mistress no disdain for books. Alas, she was absent, dramatically leaving her unexpected guest waiting. It was only fitting of course, for the young girl had not been beckoned. She was an intruder and needed to be reminded of the Magistrix's grace for being allowed to tresspass.
Ameryss Everflare, though wealthy and important, was no pureblood. She was born a wretch, less than most, having no true right to claim nobility's rights. Perhaps some charm certainly, though mostly a cunning mind had seen her through three marriages that left her a widow, sheer luck, even if rumours demanded otherwise, for she had been among the first to surrender to the fel's embrace. And if her known affairs with Ranger Captain Duskwalker and Lord Sin'orel's advisor, one of the name Dawnheart were frivolous, scandalous even, they had failed to tie her down, nor take away her independence. Still, the Magistrix would remain to enjoy the sweetness of life and scorn the title she held in the Spire, for she believed those to through it demand respect delluded. The Regency had changed it all. With the end of the Sunstrider line and the Convocation being no more, little if any power was left to the former advisors of the King.
Absent still, her presence was like that of a ghost in the chamber where Celysiel was waiting. She knew little about the woman, other than the fact that she was interested in the apprentice's former mentor, zealously planting pairs of eyes among future adversaries. The youth's own had very little offered such service, for there was no desire to betray her previous benefactor to the Magistrix in order to receive empty promises of aid and protection. She had thus moved away from Everflare's circles, an insolent little being that had defied those greater than her in the name of loyalty, in the name of love. As things has been though, such love was not meant to last. In Whitestep's words, Celysiel had lost the Magister's favour, the choosing her own, and Elmaria Brightsun had cast her services away, without thankfully knowing that she had been played. Ameryss, however, continued to possess all that she had promised, all that had been denied and now, the apprentice found herself in great need of it all.
There was always the obvious option of reaching out to the all-knowing Warden, but as much as the young elf caught herself wishing to see Serethia Ashfall again, their contact was one of mutual convenience. She had marked the other's annoyance as their meetings during days of crisis were only aiding one party, hence choice of an encounter was left to the her for the moment she would decide to collect. Celysiel was not eager to remind her. She in fact hoped that there would be no need, that all would be forgotten, but such dream would be a futile one. With his return though, the youth had decided never to strike such bargains. It had once been a measure of despair that would never again be taken.
If all aspects were viewed, Magistrix Everflare was not Celysiel's only option. Another would often come to mind, one that could be trusted much more than those who ought not know. They would bring her search to a halt, one most crucial. They would brush aside the knowledge bestowed to the apprentice. A name. One of a stranger, but from the little she knew, it appeared that their aspirations were shared. Of course, the truest of mentors would be told. He had once betrayed her secrets to the Overseer and he could too. To say that she trusted him, that she could trust anyone anymore would be too ambitious. There was, however, the wish to.
It was the opening of wide doors that halted the girl's thoughts. She raised her eyes to look at the gilded covers that were being pushed apart, each from a servant that was not even worthy of mention as they stood by their mistress' side. Without the aid of artificial beauty, Celysiel could not tell how wonderful the Magistrix would look, but now, as she stood with a coat of black on her dark skin, over her eyes, and mahogany lips pulled in a grim, bejeweled and adorned by the finest, yet most revealing dress that the apprentice had ever seen, it was impossible not to feel shame, lesser. The blood-red mane she had seen so many times before was held up in an intricate manner, framed by the collar of her dark dress. The colour of her attire was the only thing to betray that she was 'mourning' the loss of three husbands, though she was clearly overjoyed with her independence.
Her arms opened widely, wrists turning in a practiced, yet still ethereal manner so she may send her servants away. She was short, though balancing her form on heels sharper and significantly taller than those of Celysiel, something that the girl could see, for the front of the Magistrix's skirt was cup inches above her knees, barely revealing her thighs. The cloth that was missing from that part extended behind her legs in a long, aristocratic tail. The two girls by her side scurried away, each closing a leaf of the door in order to leave the two alone in the sun-blessed chamber with the wide terrace beyond the great windows. For once more, the woman's wrists turned, now palms facing upwards.
"My little plaything." she uttered in delight. "Why, how many months has it been? I do not recall beckoning, however, for you seemed something more than reluctant to share that little something that all my doves do. What brings my sweet birdy back to its nest?"
She was neither a dove, nor was the abode of the Magistrix her nest, but Celysiel thought better not to so early oppose to the woman. The apprentice rose from her seat to bow before the other in a submissive manner, one that she knew would be desired, even if such wish was always unspoken. Of noble blood or not, those who exercised their right for power were always the same. Only once had one treated her as an equal, leaving her uncertain about how to feel for that individual. Fear certainly lingered.
"I come to ask something of you, Magistrix." she finally said.
As expected, there was no pleasure in the sound of such words from Ameryss' side. Faint wrinkles were formed around her narrow eyes, though her smile grew wider in order to veil her agitation. "My little plaything, this is quite daring of you." she said, nearly praised as she stepped deeper into the room. It was vast, something which allowed her to remain away from the apprentice, bask in the glory of the sun. "You have never been obedient, you have never been willing. Why must I aid one who will not return the favour?"
"You said you and I were similar..." Celysiel whispered, doing her best to cling on a reason, ignore that merciless sting that told her how right Lady Everflare was. "That you wished to help me, for I was a no one, with all the prospects to be someone."
A chuckle escaped the mahogany lips of her whom had married her way into wealth and status. She shook her gloved hand, eyes rolling. "Come now, little plaything. You know better than that, we are aware. You are not here for my supposed affection, nor to fool me. You are here to beg."
To beg. Oh, she could, but she would not. To name a price. But gone were those days. There was nothing left to give. How far was she willing to go in order to unlock the information that she had been promised? Not far enough, not as far as she had gone for others.
"I fear I cannot do such a thing, my Lady. Nor can I offer anything in return."
Displeased Ameryss stood still, now that promising grin fading from her lips to have them link in a sharp pout. "Then let us hear your request at least." Saying that, she gestured towards Celysiel, while making her way to one of the armchairs. It was her own, hence she felt free to sit back and cross her exposed legs in a manner that would make any man lose their minds. The Magistrix only existed to remind the girl of how much better she was, even if older. She was wealthier, more powerful, more elegant. And what was the other? A commoner, a wretch.
The apprentice knew that well. She lowered her gaze, huffing lowly. "You will not grant it, my Lady."
"Do not test my patience, little plaything." Ameryss warned. "Speak."
"I wish to access some files in the Spire, regarding an individual who serves in the armies of the opposite faction." came the reply, the eyes of the youth locked on the Magistrix, in spite of the temptation to turn away. She would watch as the other raised her ruby eyebrows and chuckled, only to lean forward, with an arm falling on her thigh.
"Look at little Ashfury!" the Magistrix cooed mockingly. "On her way for great things... Now, why would she be interested in such information, I wonder..."
"Forgive me, my Lady." began the girl. "I cannot tell you."
"Of course you cannot." the other said sweetly, as if she had expected it. Her wrist turned a little, delicate fingers dancing as if they were obeying to an inaudible tune that could only reach her ears. "And in the same manner, I hope you understand that I cannot accomodate such request. Oh, surely, little plaything, information regarding our enemies does not belong to the hands of the young and mindless."
"But-"
"And those who do not know their place, clearly."
Something in Lady Everflare's voice caused the apprentice to merely nod and sink into silence. She could only feel disgust and regret as the Magistrix toyed with the chain of a beautiful necklace adorning her slender neck. The stone at the golden socket was not dark, like the rest of her attire, but scarlet, only a tad brighter than the woman's hair. Ameryss had it all, yet little cause but games of politics and whims in order to exercise her power. She liked the submission of the society's weakest, but was not willing to offer true aid when needed. Unjust, that would be the best way to describe the cruelty of life. There was so little that could change it regardless.
The felcaster was left to examine the young apprentice in silence, her wry smirk returning. Time was ample, yet that cruel delight had to end, or its visual aspect, at least. "Will you make an offer, little plaything?" she asked with the same sultry tone as before, as if she meant to charm a male. "Or is this all?"
"This is all, my Lady." Celysiel replied, unable to banish that sting of regret that pierced through her heart. For as much as she tried to tell herself that this was not the end, reality was still painful. Surely, Surveyor Blackwood would listen, though she somehow doubted that he would not be among those that would discourage her search and then, there was also better, more uncertain choice. That could not change the fact though that a door had closed. Even if quite likely not permanently.
A clap of Ameryss' palms urged the gilded door leaves to part for once more, opening the way for the young elf clad in crimson and black. The trail of light followed, giving life to the broad halls of the tower that hid beyond. It was easier to pay attention to the two servants holding the rails now, for their mistress no longer stood between them to steal the spotlight. They were scrawny, graceless things, like all the girls that the Magistrix employed. Sleeveless were their red dresses, though long, with hoods that did not hide their features. The one to the right was taller, but freckled, the other shorter, with blonde hair. They both kept their heads lowered, waiting for Celysiel to exit the room.
It was with a last glance to Lady Everflare that she did so, though the rich woman would be soon lost from sight as the doors were pulled to a close behind her. There was something pleasant in the lack of blinding light, in the ability to be able to take in the aroma of vanilla and caramel, rather than that of the Magistrix's wines. One of the servants left the door's rail to come near to Celysiel, a hand gesturing as an offer to take her to the exit. The apprentice only shook her head, managing to offer a shy, albeit kind smile. They were both lesser and in Lady Everflare's service, respect to each other is something they could very well understand.
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