#any other taskhands we know of?

[helimir]

so do we think Verin Thelyss is consecuted?

[luolands]

Essek's work and responsibilities

Essek, c2e135: I only ask because I've seen a great many prospective talents like yours grow unfocused in times of.. necessity, and decisive action.

Marisha, c2e136: Does he have War Caster? He does, right? Matt: He does.

EGtW: He is eager to use the conflict as an excuse to practice the deadlier aspects of dunamancy

Essek, c2e94: It prevents me from some of my capabilities throughout the day each time I do this, so while I'm here in my home and things are not requiring me to be elsewhere rapidly, thankfully this is a moment in time in which I am more useful here in the city.

c2e99: [You see one of them, a familiar visage of the Taskhand Adeen Tasithar.] Jester: Essek, did you ever talk to him? Did you hang out with him? Essek: We once knew each other. For a while. Jester: Does he suck? Essek: That is a word, yes.

(Taskhands are warriors: Taskhand Durth Mirimm, an elite warrior governing Jigow; Taskhand Verin Thelyss, an echo knight governing Bazzoxan. The Dynasty has dunamancers partnered with warriors: Thuron - the echo knight infiltrator in Zadash - was partnered with a drow who cast a graviturgy spell similar to gravity sinkhole. Lythir VaSuun, a high-level graviturgist, was partnered with a high-level echo knight to lead a border scouting party.)

Essek, c2e91: And you believe that the individuals that make the laws and employ them across your empire are more capable than these mages? Do you not think there is perhaps a necessary balance between the two that maintains the order?

EGtW: The laws of the dynasty, which stem from the faith of the Luxon, are enforced by a network of trusted Aurora Watch captains and soldiers.

EGtW: Essek is both respected and feared for his intelligence and cunning.

c2e74: Now who you see arrived at the front: a male drow, short white hair, a perpetual soft smile, a similar mantle of armor to the soldiers that you saw exterior, but beneath it, a cloak of dark purple just drifts below and obscures the entirety of his body.

c2e57: A similar mantle to what you noticed Lythir wearing, but much more elaborate. You can see the robes that he's wearing that pretty much entirely obscure the body.

Essek, c2e90: We've investigated Adeen, found him already halfway across the Ghostlands on his own, shrouded and seeming to attempt escape. We ambushed and retrieved him, and have spent the better part of the past day interrogating him.

Essek, c2e77: There is indeed one beacon that still remains in the grasp of the Empire. We have.. numerous ways of pushing towards that goal. However, should you have been careful in your dealings, you have a little more reach within the Empire than someone such as I would, of course.

Twitter: Shadowhand is a title granted to those who focus on the dark mysteries of Exandria for the Bright Queen. This includes both subterfuge and arcana (like a specialist in the dangerous unknown). Spies, mages, and investigators that reach a certain station can be granted this title.

Essek, c2e131: I just know that I've also survived this long, weaving the intricacies of deceit like I have, by knowing how best to keep myself.. out of the complications as best as I can.

Essek, c2e80: I already have a few operatives looking to infiltrate- to locate and infiltrate the Cult of the Angel of Irons, you said it was, in hopes of gathering more information. Jester: You have? Essek: Yes, since you gave me this information a while back. ... I have a lot of plates I'm spinning at any given point in time. This is one, and I'm now giving it a bit more prominence, so.. I apologize to have misled you to think otherwise. And I also apologize for my attitude yesterday. I have been under some pressure.

Essek, c2e98: I mean, there has been a shadow war between the Dynasty and the Empire for.. decades. This is just the first time that it's brimmed out of the control of those that waged it.

Essek, c2e98: I just want to warn you about getting too close. I'm tied.. to a lot of dangerous individuals and teeter in the shadows at the crux of all of this conflict, intentional as it may not have been.

Essek, c2e131: I can find a place to go. I am capable of being slippery when I need to be.

Essek, c2e57: Take care of them and should you need anything, well... we'll know.

c2e79: [You made an additional deal for rapid transportation with your sponsor, Shadowhand Essek Thelyss. Who agreed, begrudgingly, for the very last time to do this.] Liam: The last, last time. Marisha: He keeps saying that. Travis: He can't say no. [Wow he's just racking up the debt points with you guys. He's going to make you do some fun stuff down the road.]

Essek, c2e78: I trust that your interests are forthright. I'll need your help soon anyway. Jester: He said he would need our help soon. He seemed like he would do it.

(Soon after) Jester, c2e81: Is there any news of the war? Allura: Yes. There has been a series of attacks on some of the military siege installations within the empire. There was an assault on some of the weapon creation factories in Hupperdook. This was about four days ago, as well as a counter assault by the empire within Xhorhas.

Jester, c2e63: Did you want to come, Essek? Essek: I have my own business to attend to, but I will vouch for their capabilities. And my tutelage.

Essek, c2e70: There is a lot of business I must attend to as well. As you've heard from the Bright Queen, a lot of things are moving and my interests lie elsewhere beyond a kiln.

EGtW: He is eager to use the conflict as an excuse to practice the deadlier aspects of dunamancy, and also curious to see what the powerful minds of the Cerberus Assembly may have gleaned from their research into the beacon they stole.

Leylas, c2e57: (turns and goes) Shadowhand, can we confirm that there has been some kind of imperial goblin capture? Nott: He's not a goblin like I am. (...) He's a halfling man. His name is Yeza Brenatto. He's a chemist. Essek: Yes, we do indeed have this figure in our Dungeon of Penance.

Leylas, c2e57: Well, first, I will say that this prisoner of yours that you're requesting could possibly be returned to you. I do not know the scope and depth of his involvement with the conflict to the west, but I'm certain the Shadowhand will inquire and if there is anything else required, we will attempt to close our interrogation and return him to you.

Essek, c2e90: All of this has been given, elements of it, to attempt to force them to fill in the blanks, to prove our.. curiosity and let them prove that they were involved. But upon magical inquiries, forcing of one's will, and through physical... persuasion, we managed to excise the truth, and the Taskhand has given his hand, if you will.

Essek, c2e90: Trust me, there's been plenty of punching for two days, I do not think that you would maybe- Beau: But do they have magical punches that make people talk? Essek: We have magical means of forcing the truth, if that's what you're talking about.

Fjord, c2e90: Is there any reason why you haven't told her yet? Are you trying to confirm or gather, or? Essek: I was- if you're going to, in a point of extreme tensions in warfare in which the queen is impatiently waiting for any sort of concrete proof as to why the ceasefire was necessary, we wanted to make sure that we presented it as an entire package, as opposed to piecemeal. It is better.. and also we need to cross our Ts as well, in the instance that perhaps any of this information is incorrect.

c2e63: Previously, you had all the raised platforms with the chairs of the different den heads that were there and the five chairs that were on the main central raised portion of the platform where the Bright Queen was. Now, you can see maybe six individuals present. Two on one side, two on the other and there is the Bright Queen and the right hand there. It seems like this isn't a formal gathering of all hands on-deck, more just general matters. You see Essek is present on the left side, Mirimm is in the right up in her chair.

Leylas, c2e63: They've been assigned as your wards, you trust in this, yes? You believe them? Essek: [Essek's sitting there in the chair, you can see the hands just barely crossed poking through the cloak] I trust them. Leylas: [She gives a nod] Well, we shall plan accordingly. They will rue the day they tried to assail us on their terms.

c2e70: Already, you can hear voices bustling. It's a little more active than last time you were here, when it was somewhat half as intense. You can see all the seats are filled, both on the two opposing house sides as well as the central chairs that flank the Bright Queen's throne. ... You can see a troop of four individuals, three drow and one hobgoblin are carrying a table out past you. It seems to be a map of probably Xhorhas. The length of the table will probably lead it quite deeply into the Empire and Western Wynandir. Essek: [You look over and you can see across the way, Essek has been sitting down in one of the chairs] Well, if a safe and quick means of transportation is required, that would probably be my specialty.

Essek, c2e133: The pursuit of magic, in the ways that we know it, in the ways that we've been disparately, but in some ways similarly raised and studied. At a certain point, it becomes about the self. It becomes about what I can do.

Essek, c2e124: I was granted this post and for the time being I am enjoying the change of pace, strangely. Jester: So you really don't know very much about Aeor, then? Essek: I'm learning as we go, but I just asked to be sent far away. And from what I'd heard, there was quite a bit of competitive acquisition of relics. And if I'm to be honest, that is an intriguing thing. I mean, I'm a man of arcane study, and if there are things here that can continue to progress my- well, my personal studies, then that would be, that'd be perfect.

Essek, c2e124: (Discussing Aeor's ruins) Well, there's quite a bit down there. I've only been in myself a bit, but we can go over that.

Essek, c2e124: I should not leave this outpost, I have responsibilities here and people that rely on me.

Essek, c2e124: Starguide Uraya, Uraya Hythenos, perhaps. A goblin friend of mine, I believe they spoke to you when I was unable to reach out that day. They have returned to Rosohna to deliver reports.

c2e141: He eventually began to feel the possible prying eyes of Dynasty discomfort, and absconded from the Aeorian trade post. (...) He went there to continue his business for the time being, because at least it was far away and there were people there that relied on him, but even that he eventually left.

Talks, c2e89-90: But as a person of his training, his station, and just his general persona and how he likes to present himself, he would never openly show that concern at first.

c2e124: He's intently listening and seems to be genuinely disturbed by the information that he's received. He's taking it in, he's very controlled. Like he's used to listening and, you know. His demeanor since you met him has been very constructed. It is very much an element that he instinctually puts forward. But even in that space you could see him being very contemplative and trying to just take it all in, and nod.

Beau, c2e91: Does the Dynasty have us bugged in this house?  Essek: It would not surprise me if they, at times, chimed in. You have been under watch, here and there, since you've arrived as you were a.. challenging addition to the proximity of the Bastion Fjord: To be specific, we've seen ourselves being watched. We were hoping it was you? Essek: At times it was. No, but it was part of my assignment when you first came under my wing to ensure that there wasn't any chances of undue.. Empire business finding its way within the proximity of the Bastion.

Wrap-up: He immediately was like, "I'll take care of them, I'll work with their business, I'll figure out what they're going, and I'll be their chaperone," essentially. And so it was him just trying to cover his ass, while also trying to figure out what you were up to, what your connections were, how much you knew.

EGtW: Twelve hours of daylight each day can become painful and physically detrimental to those beings adapted to subterranean life. To mitigate this problem, powerful dunamancers have woven arcane shields to temporarily block out the sun above Rosohna. 

Wrap-up: (Verin) was like the brother that kind of got him, and they got along okay in a family that Essek did not get along with at all, and was surrounded by people he didn't get along with. He didn't get along with his parents, he didn't get along with most people in the Dynasty unless they helped him maintain and advance his position of power and influence and so.. you guys fucked him up!

[dhwty-writes]

The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom. 

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak. 

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?" 

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar." 

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

[peach-the-owl]

The Shadowhand and the Taskhand

Essek & Child!Sorcerer!Reader

Request: Maybe another Essek x Child!Reader where the kid meets her uncle Verin for the first time and Essek is afraid that the child might like his brother more than him. And at the end of the day the child is like "It was fun with uncle Verin but damn he is exhausting me." and Essek laughs because "Same kid same" and the child maybe offhand saying that they love their dad Essek and Essek.exe stops working for a while

So I defiantly took a shot in the dark with Verin's personality, since we never got to see him in C2, but I think it works. This is a special request from @sirkekselord, so all bets are off the table… Anyways, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVELY FRIEND!! I hope I did you well 😁

Today was going to be a bit different, you weren’t told what, just that it'd be different. Sure you did like routine but getting to go and do something different was exciting (have I said different enough yet), although Essek did seem just the slightest bit reluctant about this.

"Are you okay? You look a little nervous." You say, seeing the more stern look resting on Essek's face. He blinks, clears his throat and looks down at you.

"Ah, well-" Before he can finish saying anything another voice cuts in.

"Brother! So good to see you again, it’s been a while!" You turn your head in the direction of the voice and see another drow walk over, wrap Essek up in his arms and ruffle up his hair much to Essek’s dismay.

"Hello to you too, Verin." Essek greets back monotonously, an unamused look on his face. You try to hold back a laugh at the personality difference between the two… keyword try. Your little snorts of laughter gain Verin's attention as he lets go of of his brother and walks up to you.

"Hi there little one, if I remember you’re (y/n). I’ve seen you before but we’ve never gotten to meet properly. I'm your uncle Verin… wait I just realized I’m an uncle now! Haha! Well Essek, didn’t think you’d ever have it in you to start a family. I’m very glad I was wrong." Verin shoots his brother a smile, placing one hand on his hip and the other patting Essek’s shoulder. Essek just sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"It’s really nice to meet you too." You greet back, doing little to hide your giggling from Verin's antics. He kneels down as ruffles your hair before effortlessly lifting you into his arms and placing you on his shoulders. "Hey, what are you doing?" You question in delighted surprise.

"I thought you might like to see what good ol' Verin is made of." He looks over his shoulder at you, you stare back curiously and nod. "Come now, I shall be your valiant steed and we shall head to the training grounds. Hold on tight!"

"I wouldn’t-" Essek once again doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence before his brother takes off with you wrapping your arms around his neck so you don’t go flying off. He stares at the area where you and Verin once stood, wondering if he should follow. You looked surprisingly excited over this and while a part of him said to go after the two of you to be sure you were okay, another part of him said to leave it be, let you have your fun. He sighs to himself, was he jealous? Perhaps, but there was no way he’d admit that out loud, besides… there was also no way Essek was leaving you alone in the clutches of his brother. He makes his way down one hall and the next, keeping a steady pace as to not come off as desperate to get to his destination to those around him. When open field comes into view he quickly spots you standing off to the sidelines, applauding Verin as he spars with another solider. One short fight later and having barely broken a sweat, Verin makes his way over to the two of you.

"Well, what’d you think of that? It’s all about timing and using your opponents strength against them." He kneels down to you height, staring patiently as he waits for your reply.

"That was really cool. I can defiantly see why you’re a commander to an army. All I can do is this." You then cast a Magic Missile spell towards a target, hitting close to the centre but not quite a bullseye. "See, I’m getting really good at it but I still have a lot to learn."

"Not bad, but try lowering your stance a little, it’ll balance yourself and you’ll hitting bullseyes left and right." Verin advises. You test his methods and sure enough get a more direct hit, three runes becoming more visible on your skin from using your spells. "So that's what Essek meant when he said you were a Runechild." Verin examines the runes shown on your forehead and arms.

"Yeah, it's fine I guess." You say a little sheepishly, a part of you still feeling just a little insecure about the attention. While all this is happening Essek is watching a short distance back, watching the two of you interact and share a joke and a laugh carefree of anyone or any responsibilities. It all left an unpleasant feeling bubbling inside of him, a feeling that went a little further then jealously. Worry? No, not quite. Afraid, he was afraid you may have found someone better then him in his brother. He tries to shake off these thoughts, you were his kid, he took the responsibility over you and you responded positively to it. So why did he feel a tug at his heart at the prospect of you favouring someone else over him, and why did another emotion, one he couldn’t quite place, arise at the idea of you being his kid? So much was happening in such a short amount of time it was all just overwhelming, that’s it, he was just overwhelmed with everything that’s been happening. A slight shake on his shoulder has Essek break away from his thought process.

"Are you still in there brother? Or has your mind merged with the Luxon?" Verin gives a smirk, a playful tone in his voice that has Essek rolling his eyes and removing his younger siblings hand from his shoulder.

"I’m fine, just in thought." Essek looks like he’s about to say more but a light tug at his cloak has him looking down at your smaller figure instead. You look up at him with big eyes and let out a small yawn. "Tired?" He asks, earning a nod from you.

"I suppose more time went by then I thought. I shouldn’t keep you two, best be on your way. It was lovely to meet you again (y/n)." Verin waves you both off.

"Bye uncle Verin." You call back with a wave of your own followed by another yawn. After walking a good distance away from the training grounds Essek lifts you into his arms and carries your sleepy form, you let out a sigh. "I think that was fun. I was nice to spend time with uncle Verin, but wow is he exhausting." Your comment pulls a small laugh from Essek.

"If you thought that was exhausting, try living with him throughout your childhood. I’ll admit it could be entertaining at times, but he’s always been a bit of a handful." Essek reminisces a bit, making you let out a giggle.

"I’m good," you rest your head against his shoulder, another yawn escapes you as you shift a little in his grasp to get comfortable. "I think I’d rather spend my day with you anyways dad." Essek makes a full stop at this, wondering if he just heard you correctly. He looks over at your now sleeping figure, resting peacefully in his arms. It hadn’t fully dawned on him the idea of being an actual parent, sure you easily referred to Verin as your uncle but hearing you say that one word to Essek finally let it sink in. While shocked at this revelation he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride over all this, any and all concerns he had were pushed to the side for this one moment, in the solace of knowing you would choose him over anyone else.

[utilitycaster]

Re: why is Essek so afraid of Trent, do you think that Trent played any role in the memory modification of Adeen (the prisoner from Episode 90ish) or do you think that was just Essek who did that? I keep wondering if Essek was shaken up solely because he knew he could be caught in a lie or if there was something more to it (ie he knowingly pinned everything on Adeen but didn’t realize how bad the memory modification spell would be or something). Sorry for rambling, I might be overthinking it!

For that I don’t know, but my guess is Essek did it. I don’t think Trent would bother to help cover tracks that wouldn’t lead back to him (we still don’t know who the real Angel of Irons mole was on the dynasty side, incidentally; Essek just used that as part of the cover-up of the beacon theft to kill two birds with one stone). I don’t think Trent cares about the Angel of Irons cult, and honestly I also think Essek probably had more information about the Angel of Irons (via the Mighty Nein and the Dynasty intel) as well as of course the theft of the beacons that would make him able to more successfully modify the memory of Taskhand Adeen.

It also seems like this would be something that would shake him up far less, not more, if Trent had done the modification, since Adeen was then traded to the Empire in the prisoner exchange.

Personally I think Essek’s fear comes from a couple things and then maybe there’s another factor we don’t know:

Trent is a master manipulator. Beau and Caduceus pick up on immediately after one conversation, and my guess is that while Essek lacks their wisdom, he makes up for it by being incredibly smart and intimately familiar with politics, plus he’s had more than a single conversation; I think it’s safe to say Essek is completely aware of how good a talker, and specifically a propaganda minister, Trent is.

Essek is also fully aware of the volstrucker network. He was involved in the imprisonment and interrogation of one, and given what we know now I would bet he had comprehend languages or tongues cast on himself for Caleb’s second interrogation. He knows that Trent’s specialty is having trained loyal assassins who don’t ask questions, and he is aware that he (Essek) is an inconvenient loose end to the Assembly. I don’t think Essek was being paranoid early on even before Trent explicitly used Caleb’s connection to him. I think he really was at risk, and he already knew that a volstrucker had made it behind Dynasty lines during war time. It wouldn’t be hard for them to get to him in Rosohna.

So between those two things, I think Essek realizes that if Trent (or even those loyal to him - Essek doesn’t know the complexities of Astrid and Eadwulf’s situation, and honestly I don’t think they’d necessarily spare him on Caleb’s behalf) were to come along it would be a convenient way for the Assembly to arrange for him to die in the fight if not before.

It is worth noting that on a natural 1, Essek said he would help from a distance: Essek is fully committed to this fight and to the Mighty Nein for personal reasons already, and he is aware that he may die in this effort. I also have to wonder if some part of him fears that there’s a chance the Assembly and Trent specifically will decide to use some leverage against him and force him back into his role as a traitor, or in some way use Essek’s death to harm the dynasty or those he cares about within it.

There might be other factors that I hope Essek will bring up this next episode, but honestly even what we know is enough. Trent is a scary person! If you have read literally anything about history, especially, say, mid-20th century history, (or if you’re more of a theoretician, Machiavelli’s The Prince) “Propaganda minister with a loyal secret assassin network” should terrify you! Everyone who meets Trent says he a creep including his own allies and yet the only thing likely to unseat him after decades in power is a former student who, through a frankly logic-defying amount of luck, managed to escape his grasp, survive, and become powerful and respected himself.

[saphirered]

Fight For Dessert?

And here it finally is, part two to the last Essek x Eldritch Knight reader request. 

A walk through the streets of Rosohna did you good but Essek was still refusing to let you go anywhere isolated with him without supervision besides his home or the Xhorhaus after the whole ordeal with the Volstruckers. The presence of the Aurora Watch brought him more comfort than it ever had done. Not for himself but the sense of security that you wouldn’t be alone if trouble found you. 

The two of you walk or float perhaps a little bit closer than may be socially acceptable but neither of you seem aware or care enough. A guard of the Aurora Watch rushes over to you a little out of breath and gives a short bow to both you and Essek. 

“What is it?” Essek asks in a tone befitting of the Shadowhand, demeanour changing to a more cold and distant one at the approach of the guard. 

“A message for you Shadowhand. And one for the Knight.” The guard holds out two delicate envelopes stamped with a deep purple seal, names written in beautiful cursive. You take the one addressed to you with a confused look and can see a hint of annoyance from Essek. 

“You may go now.” Essek dismisses the guard who keeps waiting. 

“My apologies, Shadowhand. I was instructed to await your answers.” The guard looks to the envelopes. Essek takes his and opens it as well reading it. His expression does not change. 

‘You have been graciously invited to attend a formal dinner in your honour at the estate of Den Thelyss tonight.’

“Essek?” You give him a glance allowing him to see the invitation. Essek shows you his invitation too. His has and additional note; ‘bring your friend’. You see Essek lift his chin with a deep sigh giving the guard a bit of a glare.

“Please tell my mother-“ Seeing where this is going you cut him off.

“-that we accept her gracious invitation, isn’t that right, Essek.” You would have stepped on his foot to shut him up if he weren’t floating. Essek gives you a surprised look as the guard nods, excuses himself and hurries off. 

“Why would you…” Essek doesn’t finish the question. 

“Because even I know you simply do not refuse an invite from nobility let alone a Denmother, your mother no less.” He can’t deny. You have a point. 

So there you are, dressed in the fanciest clothes gold could buy in such a short period of time, courtesy of Jester and her impeccable taste. The fine silks in hues of purple, dark blues, black and silver made you stand out in the crowd for sure if it weren’t the design itself, like it was made for you. Many garments were tried on. None but this passed Jester’s approval. Luckily for you the outfit wasn’t so heavy or tight you couldn’t even lift your arms, or would feel like you were carrying both Fjord and Caduceus on your back. You had your full range of motion and a perfect fit. 

Essek escorted you to the estate which is every bit as grand and impressive as you expected it to be. You’re a bit on edge and nervous. It’s not every day one gets such an invitation, let alone one by the family your ‘friend’ belongs to. 

“You are calmer ahead of battle than you are attending dinner. I do not think I have ever seen you this on edge.” Essek couldn’t keep his observation to himself. It’s quite a funny one in his eyes. You’d be prepared to walk into a moorbounder nest no hesitation and no fear yet a social gathering is enough to nearly throw you off your feet and have you panic. 

“Don’t laugh! Not all of us have spent our lives making friends with the leaders of nations.” He stops, you with him and turns to you. 

“And yet I doubt that’s what unnerves you so.” He places his hands on your shoulders as you take a deep breath. 

“What if she doesn’t like me? Or if she doesn’t approve your blatant admiration of me?” You manage to lighten the mood with your last question. 

“If my mother didn’t approve of you she would never have invited both of us to dinner. As for my ‘blatant admiration of you’, as you put it, I think it is more than deserved after everything.” Essek looks around seeing no one but the guards in front of the estate and pulls you into his embrace. 

“You’ll do perfectly. My mother will love you just as much as I.” He speaks as you return the hug. Pulling apart he offers his arm and the two of you make your way through the gates. 

“You’re biased.” You whisper as the guards open the doors for the two of you.

“I am. So what?” You scoff at the wizard’s answer as you enter Essek’s childhood home. 

Worked stone, stained glass windows and geometric designs make up the majority of the structure. It’s quite beautiful and comes close to what you expect a private palace might look like. Though, you didn’t expect any less from one of the most prominent and well respected Dens in the Dynasty. Your eyes wander taking in the beautiful art work displayed within the foyer alone. You can’t begin to imagine what the rest of the building looks like. 

Walking down the stairs as the servants take your and Essek’s cloaks, is the Denmother herself in all her glory. You can see the family resemblance and are taken aback by the sheer presence the woman radiates. Sensing you panic as you resist the urge to gulp Essek pats your arm leading you forward. 

You take a deep breath. For the first time you feel like the roles are reversed, Essek being your support and saviour when you’re in need instead of the other way around. He keeps you grounded. You squeeze his arm linked through yours in a quick thank you. 

It’s no different from a battle. Except your sword has been exchanged for your wit and your words are your weapon and shield. The strategy remains. You can do this. You got this. The words echo in your head only to realise Essek whispered them. You nod. You got this. 

Essek and you meet Deirta at the bottom of the stairs. You offer a brief bow in respect, returned with a bow of the head and a smile. 

“Welcome. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. My son speaks very highly of you. I am Deirta Thelyss.” Deirta takes the lead, you and Essek following into the dining room. 

A large table enough to fit half the court alone, houses only four chairs, one at the head, two on one side and a single one at the other. The table is set for four, plates, cutlery, beautiful glasses and everything. Leaning on one of the chairs is a handsome drow, dressed appropriately for the dinner bearing the vestiges of a Taskhand, or at least so you’ve been told. This drow, while elvish age might be more difficult to pinpoint seems to be a bit younger than Essek and shares similar features. A sibling perhaps? Essek doesn’t really talk about his family much. 

Essek guides you along to the two chairs next to each other, one of which the other man is leaning on. The man raises to a more proper stature and bows to you. 

“My, my, you must be my dear brother’s heroic saviour. Taskhand Verin Thelyss. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Verin pulls out the chair next to the one he was leaning on and offers it to you. You unlink your arm from Essek’s and take a seat thanking the Taskhand. Before Verin can, Essek takes the seat next to you at the right hand of the Denmother. Verin sends him a glare but Essek looks on innocently. Sibling rivalry? You’ll never let him hear the end if this goes on.

“Don’t look so glum, Verin. It doesn’t suit you.” You raise an eyebrow at Essek’s comment as Verin takes the seat opposite of his brother and Deirta takes hers. 

“And pomposity suits you perfectly brother.” Verin raises his glass.

“Children. No bickering at my table. We have a guest.” Deirta smiles at you as servants fill your glasses and uncover the plates set out in front of you to reveal a delicious looking meal. 

“Thank you for joining us tonight. I’m grateful you were able to accept my invitation on such short notice. When my son speaks about your exploits he tends to leave out the mortal danger of it all and I have to learn from others the details of the risk you put yourself at to keep him safe. You have my eternal gratitude.” Deirta places a hand over her heart. 

“You talk about me?” You give Essek a look and can just see the tiniest of blushes creep on his face for just a second as he tries to repress it. 

“Gushes on about you really, singing your praises. ‘Such an intelligence, a fast learner, strong and clever’. It never ends.” Essek glares at Verin as you lean into the arm of your chair giving him an ‘oh really’ look waiting for him to come up with some clever comment or witty remark in return to deflect from the fact he’s not been subtile about his affections towards you around his family. 

“I only shared my conclusions based on the information and evidence provided to me first hand.” 

“I believe that’s what us common folk would call ‘an opinion’, darling.” You laugh amused by the whole situation. You earned a snort from Verin with your comment. Deirta looks between the three of you before turning her attention back to you directly.

“I heard you had gotten rather seriously injured. I hope you’ve recovered well enough?” Deirta asks. 

“I have thanks to my rather talented healer friends. Though if it were not for Essek’s quick response getting them, things may have played out very differently.” You praise the wizard next to you trying to put him a bit more at ease and give him something to return fire if he has to against his brother, letting him know you have his side still. Esseks gives you a thankful smile. 

“So you’re recovered then?” Verin’s expression turns a bit more mischievous and you can see Deirta giving him a scolding look. 

“I am according to my clerics, though I feel they held off on my release from bedrest and confinement to the house for several days. It’s good to be out and about again. I’ve missed it, even though the company has been good I definitely missed being allowed to swing a sword and throw a  proper punch.” Verin’s smile grows. 

“Since you’re good to fight again, how about you show me what you’re made off? How much of my brother’s opinions prove true?” 

“Verin.” Both Essek and Deirta warn each for different reasons.

“Oh come on, I’m merely joking. Unless you’d take me up on the offer of course.” Verin gives you an innocent look you’ve seen so many times on Essek. Plausible deniability apparently runs in the family. 

You lean your elbows on the table, clasping your hands together. Essek mutters an ‘oh no’ under his breath and takes a big gulp from his drink as you grin. 

“You want a fight? I’ll give you a fight.” You wink. 

“Verin need I remind you of your manners. We do not challenge guests to a fight over dinner.” Deirta scolds her son. 

“It’s just a bit of fun, mother.” Verin complains and where he not presenting himself as a renowned official and the person he is, it might have sounded like the plea of a child being told no. 

“I would not wish to overstep any boundaries and forgo all rules of social engagement. Nor do I wish to ruin a perfectly pleasant evening, Denmother. Perhaps another time, Verin?” You earn the Denmother’s approval as she says something to Verin in Undercommon you do not understand but by the tone of her voice alone and Verin’s response you can tell it’s probably not positive. 

Essek sighs deeply next to you pinching the bridge of his nose as Deirta and Verin continue their argument. 

“Oh for the love of… Can you two please cease this useless fight. I’d much rather see Verin being put in his place than listen to this endless argument one more second. Thank you.” The two of them slowly quiet down when Essek speaks up. Verin gets up from his chair.

“It’s settled then, we’re all in agreement.” 

“We are not all in agreement but to cease this argument, very well. You have my permission.” Deirta concedes despite all better efforts.

“If you wish to take my son up on this fight you have my permission.” 

Before you know it you’re outside in what you can assume is Den Thelyss’ private gardens. It’s simple and large enough of an open space to not break anything in the near vicinity should things get ugly. Both of you drop the heavier and unnecessary layers of your outfits. You’re pulled aside by Essek before you walk into the fighting ring. 

“Not that I do not have full confidence you’ll win, but please do not get injured or I fear I might find my next cup of tea poisoned or my books desecrated.” Essek worries taking hold of your hands giving them a brief squeeze. 

“I’ll do my best to protect your precious books and keep any attempts of poisoning at bay. Now please excuse me while I go kick your brother’s ass.” You pat his cheek as you step back and into the makeshift fighting ring. Verin offers you a sword but you don’t take it. 

“I’ve brought my own.” You summon your trusty sword and earn a nod of approval from the drow.

“Nice trick.” The moment you’re ready Verin swings at you but you’ve lived this long thanks to your reflexes and step to the side with ease. You tap the blade of your sword against his to inch it out of your way as you go for a high strike giving Verin enough time to counter block. 

This isn’t a fight to the death and you’re not deliberately trying to seriously injure your opponent so you both hold back but you do get a glimpse of the soldier within Verin and see where he gets his reputation from. It’s earned. The ‘dance’ between you and Verin continues until it gets more competitive and the both of you come to a nonverbal understanding to find out who’s going to be the clear winner here. 

Verin summons his echo letting it come at you while putting some distance between you and him to give him the advantage. You’re quick to respond with a lightning lure. A satisfying grin visible as you pull Verin back within your range. You deflect a blow from the echo while kicking Verin’s wrist preventing his sword from striking you. Bringing your own sword around you cut the echo in half, turning it to wisps of shadow. You strike back with a hit directed at Verin. He dodges and comes around with a hit you use your blade to parry. Another echo comes in play but you pay it no mind having had enough of this back and forth. You grab the blade of Verin’s sword, not nearly tight enough to pierce your skin but just enough to hold it in place, drop your own sword and reach into your component pouch. 

You speak the familiar words and release the gold dust you re-summon your sword back to your hand and point it at Verin’s chest. Verin tries to pull the sword from the air but is unable to move it. 

“Do you concede?” Verin holds up his hands in surrender but you notice a glint in his eye. He quickly moves around the other side of the sword frozen in the air kicking at your leg. You toss your sword to the side, punch once to break his defence and another directly to the chest. Verin’s breath hitches and you kick his legs from under him. He groans, the air is knocked out of him as he lands on his back. You put your foot on his chest standing over him. He grabs it purely by instinct but loosens his grip quickly. 

“Very well. I concede.” Verin speaks out of breath. You remove your foot and offer him a hand pulling him back to his feet. From the stairs you hear a slow clap. Both of you look over to see Deirta standing next to an amused Essek. 

“Impressive. My son’s words have proven true. You have my approval.” The Denmother speaks rather indifferently but offers a smile no less before retreating back inside. 

“Perhaps one day we might fight side by side. I look forward to seeing you around more often.” Verin slaps a hand on your shoulder before he wanders off to clean up. Essek joins you, the two of you left alone in the gardens outside the building. 

“What just happened?” You ask confused about how you just gained the approval and respect of Verin and Deirta Thelyss. 

“They saw exactly why you have my affection.” You bump into Essek’s shoulder in a ‘shut up’ and he offers you a genuine smile. 

“I am that great, aren’t I?” You joke as the two of you begin making your way back inside. You’re still processing unsure of how to take and handle all of this. This was unexpected to say the least.

“And I’ve told you many times. I don’t plan to stop doing so either.” You give him a little side hug as you look around the abandoned remains of dinner being cleared off the table by the servants. 

“Is this how fancy dinners always go?” 

“Certainly not. Though, I can say watching my brother be put in his place certainly has been the highlight of my day, second to you showing off.” You both laugh as you’re ready to head back leaving the Thelyss estate behind you. Perhaps it’ll become a place you’ll visit more often. Though you’ll still always prefer the towers. And feeling some bruises form already, you have some books to protect from the wrath of a doodling tiefling. 

[paintedwarpony]

CONCERING THE BROTHERS THELYSS

I have three major views on this and they all hinge just as much on Essek's insights and behaviors as much as Verin's and what kind of people they are.

See many MANY people are VERY quick to classify Verin as a "himbo" or some version of the himbo-iest himbo that ever there himboed. Which who knows he very well might have.

BUT. Please let us remember a few things about Verin.

1-from what little we know of him he's the youngest Taskhand to take over Bazzoxan (which is no picnic palace AT FUCKING ALL) which could suggest that he is possibly the youngest Taskhand in the entire Kryn military which is extremely impressive for an entire country/Dynasty that is admittedly military oriented for the last few centuries. That takes ALOT more than just being a dumb sword swinger. He has to be a proven strategist, an effective and capable leader, lawful and fair and have the political prowess and know how to know how to present himself or carry the APPEARANCE of being a poster child for ideals and expectations of the Kryn Dynasty. And he did all this at an INCREDIBLY young age. If Essek is 120 years old and you speculate that Verin is 10 to 20 years younger he could very well be under a centery into his military career.

And even more importantly.

2- that boy was raised in Den Thelyss. If Essek's behavior and hints given away about how the Den carries itself in addition to what EGtW has given us about Verin "seeking his Den's approval" and Deirta's speculated behavior Verin is what I call an 'emotional survivor'. I personally have a heart breaking headcanon that when he proved to lack Essek's ambition and magical prowess and without Papa Thelyss around to shield him a bit Verin was essentially told the only worth he would have to his Den and family was to die gloriously in battle and be a good forgettable relative for the Den to bring up and talk about at holidays.

BUT I DIGRESS. Keeping all that in mind to be an emotional survivor of Den Thelyss he would need Essek in one of a few possible ways.

The first possibility, and one that explsins Essek often saying he's never had friends before or referring to himself as being extremely solitary, is that they were pitted against each other from and EXTREMELY early age and were never given a chance to bond. Its possible that Verin was used as a threat to Essek as in "if you can't do it then I'll just use him" and Essek to Verin as an example of "do it better like him". All of this likely was exacerbated by the likelihood that Verin was possibly VERY MUCH like their father, had a good relationship with him, was socially more likable in general and the last nail in the coffin to drive them apart may be Verin blaming Essek for their father going to Bazzoxan and being killed.

The second, and a kinder version that I like a bit better, is that Essek and Verin did bond and were very much loving brothers growing up. In this instance they probably were born fairly close together and ran a bit buckwild together (mostly shielded by their father in my opinion). They had each other, were each others company and relief from harsh lessons in politics and magics. And that something changed in Essek that made him pull away. To Essek they were no longer friends and barely brothers. To Verin he was heartbroken that his best friend and cohort inexplicably abandoned him.

Then the somftest version is that Verin had always, will always, and does now think they're best friend brothers always and just thinks Essek's standoffish in general and is quietly delighted ANY time Essek gives him any kind of attention at all.

I prefer the last version because I truly am soft at heart. I feel like this relationship would be the easiest and most readily bridged by the influence of the Nein. It would cause Essek to realize how his aloofness and distance had driven them apart but it was something given just a bit of time an attention could easily be healed. In theory with time and depending on what kind of person Verin is their relationship could be mended with enough time and care if it was ruptured or strained in the first place.

This is only a fraction of my thoughts on the complex relationships between these boys. Which hopefully will only get MORE complex when/if Verin appears in the campaign at all.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Tangled (In Complexity)

So I've been very interested in a lot of the psychological features of Essek's character, and one of them is his canonical low-empathy. Essek seems to have a really hard time with empathy as a rule, which makes social interactions extremely fraught for him. I am also a Verin Theylss stan, so of course, I had to write a whole fic exploring these issues. No, I do not believe having low-empathy makes a person evil by any means, but as this story is from Verin's flawed perspective we only get his insights into Essek's behaviors so just keep that in mind when reading.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Triggers: emotionally abusive/distant parenting, estrangement, grief, and mentions of canonical minor character death (Essek and Verin’s father)

Preview:

"Don't leave me," Verin begged, fingers pressed to the wood of the door, and yanking the knob to no avail. "Please, it'll get me, Mama!"

"Verin, you will stay in your room until you overcome this idiotic fear," his mother shouted, and Verin flinched back from the door. "We are drow , what kind of drow is afraid of the dark?"

"Mama, Mama no!" Verin sobbed curling tight into himself. He could hear her footsteps as they echoes down the hallway and disappeared. He screwed his eyes shut. The room seemed to shrink in his panic. The shadows at his closet seemed to grow. The panic that had been gnawing at Verin's gut since his history lesson that day seemed to grow stronger. There was only his desperate heartbeat in his ears, the scent of snuffed candles, and thick shadows. In the dark there were the monsters that he had been told about. He didn't understand why his mother couldn't understand. If he was alone in the dark, then the driders and beholders and the other creeping crawling monster would be able to find him and hurt him!

There was no choice then. If his mother wouldn't help him than Verin knew that he would have to save himself.

Verin looked about, seeing his window and realizing it was his golden opportunity. He jumped up on his chair, onto his desk, and then attempted to open the window. It didn't budge. Seeing the lock at the top, Verin climbed down to his bookshelf and began bringing books over to his desk. Using them to boost himself up and using all his strength, he heard the lock creak and pop, the window opening out to the courtyard. He nearly fell out right there but managed to catch his balance with a startled yelp.

Verin ducked, his heart in his throat. He had been so desperate to escape that he hadn’t thought of any of the consequences. Mother would come, she would know and the punishment would be worse. But would that punishment be worse than the creatures that were surely waiting for him to trance? It was a risk he was willing to take. A minute passed, and then two. No one crossed the courtyard. In fact, no one appeared at all. However, from one of the rooms he saw the light of a candle. Verin, gathering all of his courage, lowered himself out of the window and then sprinted across the yard as quickly as his legs would take him. He grabbed a stick, and began to rap at the window. Mid-hit, the window opened and Verin heard Essek swear as he swatted the branch away.

"Stop!" Essek snapped and Verin dropped the stick. Essek was sticking his head out of the window now, glaring down at Verin with a heat that made Verin shrink with a leaf now stuck in his hair. "What are you doing ?"

"Mother locked me in my room," Verin said, gripping the edge of the window and desperately scrabbling for a foothold so he could boost himself up. "And she took all the lights away! Essek, please, the driders are going to get me!"

"You are being ridiculous! Hey! Stop, you are going to hurt yourself!" Essek said, and to Verin's relief Essek grabbed his shirt and pulled him up through the window. Verin was sprawled on Essek's desk, looking at Essek's glower from an interesting angle. A book had fallen, and he had scattered papers all over the place. Despair came thick and shameful. Now Essek definitely wouldn’t help him, he would carve him up and serve him to their mama on a golden platter.

"Don't make me go back, Essek, she'll lock me away again," Verin sniffed, eyes burning. Essek's face twisted for a moment, he looked out the window and closed it, moved to the door and stuck his head out and closed it in turn. He planted his hands on his hips, and then groaned after finding whatever answer he was looking for on the ceiling.

"Oh fine, very well," Essek sighed, helping Verin off the desk and straightening out his things. "I'll put you to work then."

Verin nodded eagerly, his heart full of a crippling relief. Being put to work was far better than dealing with the dark, cold, lonely bedroom before. Essek had never assigned Verin chores or punishment before, but whatever he wanted couldn't have been as bad as the quiet room. Essek was distant and quiet and mean on occasions that suited him, but at least he always kept his promises.

"Hold this for me," Essek said, taking the blanket spread out over his legs and draping it over Verin's shoulders. "I'm getting too hot."

Verin nodded and curled it around his shoulders.

"Now I'm going to read, you stay quiet," Essek told him, standing up and pulling a book from the shelf. It was cracked along the backbone, well-used and annotated with his brother's scrawl. He settled it at the center of the desk, pushing away the massive tome he had been using after marking the page he had been on.

"I will!"

" Quiet , Verin."

"Oh! Right, sorry!" Verin whispered, curling the blanket more firmly around himself. He felt tiny in the huge chair, and didn't quite know what to do with his legs and arms. He settled for tucking them underneath himself and leaning against the arm. Essek began reading aloud.

"Dunamists have long held that gravity is the force by which a planet or other celestial body draws objects towards their center. The force of gravity keeps the celestial bodies in orbit around the sun," Essek read, voice quietly. "The manipulation of this force is called Dunamancy, and this concept of drawing towards the center is the most basic principle of the practice."

"Mm," Verin sighed, head heavy.

"The existence of gravity was first proven by which scholar, Verin?"

"Narcelia of Den Gallaer," Verin grumbled, remembering the list and his tutor who smelled like old parchment and smoke. He remembered because he had gotten his knuckles hit for doodling during that lesson, and his mother hadn’t been pleased.

"Correct, and she discovered gravity by completing a sequence of tests that started…"

Essek read, and occasionally asked Verin questions. He never once looked at Verin, and yet Verin could sense he had Essek's attention. And that was enough. After all, a drider couldn't get the jump on him if someone was paying attention. He tried to stay awake, to listen so that he could help Essek. He wasn't sure exactly what he had wanted help with, but he knew he could. He could be of use somehow. Essek would see that, and then Essek would see him . He couldn’t imagine something better than that, after all, everyone knew that Essek was a genius. If Essek saw him, maybe Verin could be special one day and not just a bother.

Just one moment, Verin thought to himself as his heavy eyes closed. I'll just rest for a moment. Essek won't be mad if it's just for a moment and it was so difficult to keep his eyes open and…

Verin drifted into a trance, and even deeper into sleep . When he awoke he was in his own bed, and the only proof it hadn't been a dream was the unlocked door and the closed window.

_____________________________

Verin was in the midst of a well needed rest when he was startled out of his trance by a Message. This was his least favorite way to wake up for multiple reasons, but it was especially unwelcome as his foggy brain began to put together the pieces of the words as they filtered in.

“Taskhand, your presence is being requested by your Denmother and the Shadowhand. You will be expected at the residence tomorrow evening.”

“Very well, I’ll leave Bazzoxan tomorrow,” Verin said, before waiting for the spell to fizzle out. He sighed and collapsed back down in his bed, once he was safe.

“ What ?” Samezi groaned from where she was laying on the bed next to him. Her head popped out from under the covers, and she blinked at him slowly.

“My presence has been requested at the Theylss Residence tomorrow evening,” Verin said, adopting an exaggerated Rosohna accent.

“You aren’t going are you?” Samezi asked, concerned, sitting up straight. Verin wished they could just go back to sleeping, with his arms around her and soaking in her warmth and her scent and burying his face in her braids. When Verin didn’t answer she swore under her breath in orcish. “You can’t be serious Verin.”

“I can’t refuse a summons from my Denmother,” Verin explained, pulling himself up and resting against the rickety backboard of his bed. He had gutted most of the belongings of the previous Taskhand, the velvet curtains and the feather down, when he got there and salvaged them for extra coin. One of his first orders of business was putting every spare coin back into the barracks where it belonged. He had no access to the vast fortune his family commanded, after all, he was the youngest son.

“You mean your mother,” Samezi said, not sounding impressed. “That woman .”

“Yes, my mother, the Denmother, Deirta there is no difference,” Verin said noncommittal though just mentioning her made something curdle in his gut. “I have to go, no matter how much I wish not to. The Shadowhand will be there, which means it’s something important.”

“Please, consider just...just refusing,” Samezi said, the worry settling like a weight between her brows. “You know how you get after seeing them.”

“You mean, feeling like I’m making nothing of my life? Please, elaborate.”

“Really Verin,” Samezi said quietly, touching his arm with a softness that gentled the sharp edges of his heart. “They are incapable of seeing what we all see. You are the only Taskhand we’ve liked probably in the history of the outpost. There’ll be chaos if that woman skins you and eats your organs or whatever she’s planning.”

“You don’t think she just wants to see me perhaps? I’ve heard I’m decent company,” Verin said, fluttering his eyelashes. He leaned to give Samezi a kiss and she batted him away half-heartedly.

“I’m being serious,” Samezi warned him, her fingers combing through Verin’s hair.

“At ease, sergeant,” Verin said with a salute before sighing and leaning back against the pillows. “I know, you’re right. But I’m sure it’s just something about politics now that the war is over. I’ll go there, have dinner, and come back. If something else happens, I give you permission to send a search party. Make to avenge me, also, burn all those letters I sent you. They are in a lockbox in my desk.”

“You are horrible ,” Samezi said. “But fine, but only if they kill you before I do.”

“Good, give me something to look forward to when I get home,” Verin said with a smile of his own.

He arrived the next evening back to his hometown through the use of their teleportation circle. Rosohna was dark and beautiful as always, after arriving he spent a little bit of time stretching his legs and getting a feel for the city that he had grown up in once more. The mood was much improved since his last visit, owed in part to the return of the beacons and to the end of the war. In general though, it felt like the city was teetering on another edge. Though it had little to do with him, he was sure that the direction Rosohna would blow would be decided soon enough.

Verin arrived in the Lucid Bastion on time, moving to the Den Theylss ancestral home. Servants acknowledged his presence and he was directed to one of the sitting rooms to await the presence of the Umavi. Verin was let in, and as he crossed the threshold he was immediately aware of another presence. Turning around, he saw Essek perched in a seat with a tome across his lap. He finished his page, not looking up, and once he did he put in a bookmark. Essek curled his fingers in the air and then slipped his book into a pocket dimension, before meeting his gaze. As always, his elder brother was dressed in a mantle and long robes that obscured his figure and he floated off the ground as he was buoyed in his own gravitational field.

"Hello Verin," Essek said pleasantly, head nodding towards him in acknowledgement.

"Essek," Verin said cordially in return, echoing his nod. "How have you been?"

"Busy," Essek answered, his tone non-committal. His attention slid to Verin now for the first time, though Verin wasn't looking at his brother but was instead looking ahead. The weight of his gaze skittered up Verin's neck like a spider and made him want to swat at his own skin. Essek had always had such an effect on everyone they knew. Unnerving , would be the term though it has its limits. Verin had known Essek all of his life...until recently there had been no life without Essek being factored in like some kind of twisted arithmetic, but Verin had no clue what was simmering under the surface of Essek's facade.

"The Denmother's last appointment is running late, it will be a few moments longer," a servant said, bowing deep in apology. Essek waved off the servant who scurried away. Verin sighed through his nose. Of course, his mother would summon him all the way from Bazzoxan and then still find a reason to not speak with him. Typical .

"I hear you have been busy as well," Essek said, and Verin startled at his voice. He had assumed their non-conversation was over and that they would start pretending the other didn't exist again. Apparently Essek wanted something.

"Bazzoxan keeps me on my toes," Verin said suspiciously, feeling his own eyes narrow. "Why?"

"It hasn't escaped my attention that you are doing well there," Essek said, and Verin met his silver gaze. He couldn't say that Essek looked proud, or warm. But instead, the placid mask of his brother was gone and his expression was neutral. "I will admit that the assignment concerned me, but I was glad to be proven wrong."

"You thought I couldn't handle it?" Verin asked, a twinge of indignation pricking him.

"In over your head," Essek clarified, arms shifting beneath the mantle. "But I have heard nothing but good things about your leadership. I'm sure the Umavi is pleased."

"And what do you think?" Verin asked him.

"A Theylss, executing their job proficiently in high places is to be expected," Essek said, looking forward. "You are a Theylss, after all."

"Until you can actually speak about that like I am a Theylss and don't just have to prove myself one, it doesn't feel like you actually think of me as your brother," Verin pointed out.

"You are the only one of our siblings I view as a sibling," Essek said with a blink, looking at Verin more critically. "I thought you knew that."

"I'm pretty sure what you think constitutes loving sibling behavior and what I think constitutes loving sibling behavior are two very different things," Verin said, illustrating the point by holding up two fingers and pulling them apart.

"I don't deny that," Essek said with a shrug. “I am sorry if I made you feel otherwise though.”

Verin was now staring at Essek unabashedly. He wasn’t even sure that he had known that apologies were even part of Essek’s vocabulary (outside of the political niceties that Essek had always been well versed in). Their childhood was scattered with examples Verin could point too-bothered Essek, annoyed Essek, cold Essek. Cold Essek had always been Verin’s least favorite, the one that treated Verin like his existence was a chore he just had to get through. During their sibling arguments, Essek would just simply pretend Verin didn’t exist...the record being for a week straight. Never once had Essek ever apologized for instigating or his part in their disagreements. On occasion, Essek could be considerate, but never kind. There was always a point . Whether it was to curry his favor or to repay a favor, it could be assumed that Essek wanted something. Essek was never apologetic . Verin had half a mind to slap himself, just to make sure he was well.

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a spider,” Essek said with a roll of his eyes, and Verin’s mouth closed with a click of his teeth.

“Who are you and what have you done with Essek?” Verin asked suspiciously.

“Stop acting like a child,” Essek told him with a very distinctly Essek huff that relieved Verin slightly. At least he knew that this was indeed his brother and not just a person masquerading around in his flesh suit. Verin was about to say something in that spirit when the servant walked back into the sitting room.

“The Denmother is requesting your presence now,” the servant said with a bow of his head. Essek ghosted in behind him, and Verin followed close behind.

Their mother was sitting at the table, flipping through some papers as she took sips from a glass of wine. As they walked in their mother’s eyes didn’t even flit up from the papers for a moment, she simply waved them in like she was summoning them forward. Verin felt like a child being called in for a scolding again as he moved forward. Essek’s face was a picture of cool indifference. Finally she stopped, clearly having decided that she had made them wait long enough. She set down the papers, and another servant scrambled to take them away.

“Denmother,” Essek greeted, bowing his head in respect, and Verin echoed the movement immediately.

“Essek,” Deirta said, standing up. She seemingly inspected Essek thoroughly. Though they were the same height, Essek was currently floating about an inch or two higher. It was at such moments that Verin was always surprised about how much Essek took after their mother. From the shape of their eyes, to the bridge of their noses, to the sharp lines of their delicate faces. Verin had always been closer in face and continence to their father. He wondered, often, what their mother thought of that. She seemed pleased with whatever she saw there and turned her attention to him. “Verin.”

“Denmother,” Verin said as his mother curled her cold fingers under his chin, and turned his head this way and that. Verin let her manipulate his movements, and was relieved when she let go.

“Would it kill you to keep your hair in order?” Deirta sighed, the breath coming exasperated. “It looks like you took a knife to the edges.”

“I did,” Verin said flatly. Essek made a noise like he was stifling a chuckle, casting a glance towards him Verin could see there was a muscle twitching in his jaw...like he was fighting a grin.

“ Scissors , Verin, are there no scissors in Bazzoxan?” Deirta chastised before casting a scolding glance at Essek. “You don’t have a leg to stand on, considering your ridiculous haircut.”  

“Forgive me, mother,” Essek said with a sweet, almost indulgent smile. “But the teachings of the Luxon do say that our bodies are merely transient vessels. Hair is of middling importance in the grand scheme of enlightenment.”

“Oh Luxon’s light protect me,” Deirta said, throwing up her hands. “Verin, promise me you’ll schedule an appointment to get the ends of your hair sorted out before you leave Rosohna.”  

“Of course,” Verin said, hoping this would be enough to placate her.

“And don’t you give me attitude, young man,” Deirta said, focusing her energy now on Essek with narrowed eyes. “Out of everyone in this household, I am not the one who needs a lecture on the Luxon’s philosophy.”

Verin felt himself tense up, as a pit opened large and wide in his stomach. Oh dear Light, he had thought this argument was over . Was Essek still pursuing his ridiculously dangerous ideas? It was a poorly kept secret that Essek had funny ideas when it came to the Luxon. Treasonous ideas, if Verin was being honest. Essek could never leave well enough alone, and had historically never sucked up his pride enough to let things lay where they were. There had been plenty of nights where Verin had hidden in his room with his head under a pillow and trying not to listen to their parents argue with Essek for hours, going around and around like they were lost in a maze. How many times had Verin prayed for Essek just to drop it? He couldn’t even count.

“Yes, mother,” Essek said simply. Verin stared at him. He didn’t look particularly bothered by their mother’s annoyance. Essek had always had nerves of steel...or maybe deadened nerves would be more accurate. Verin wasn’t quite sure his brother was capable of the emotions that would be expected from a person.  

“Umavi,” a servant said quietly. “The cook would like you to know that dinner is ready whenever you would like it.”

“Very well,” Deirta said, taking her seat back at the head of the table. Essek and Verin both sat at the table, Essek on the left side and Verin on the right. Verin focused solely on keeping his head down and shoveling food into his mouth. He knew rationally that this was all better than anything he would get from the barrack kitchens, but eating dinner late at night with the head cook Old Man Vuto as company was a far superior experience. He hadn’t realized how much so until just that moment. Essek and his mother spoke about the comings and goings of Rosohna, about people that Verin knew tangentially, and business that didn’t interest Verin at all. Essek grazed, picking at his plate but mostly just moving things around.

“-now that the war is over, I am hoping that perhaps Den Wenirila will realize that their insistence on the Northern Assault strategy has done them no favors in court and the Denmother will stop shouting every time she comes into the war room,” Essek sighed.

“Yes...now that the war is over in name, there are plenty of things that need to change,” Deirta said with a sip of her glass. “Now, we must think of the future.”

“Indeed,” Essek said, and Verin placed down his chopsticks. “Is this why you have called us?”

“Yes, to think of the future for Den Theylss and for the Kryn Dynasty as a whole,” Deirta said as she settled down her glass. She waved for the servants who took the plates away and then left them alone. “The Empire has returned the beacon they stole from us, and the lines of our territory remain the same. But if anything this conflict has raised our stature in the world. The Dwendalian Empire cannot pretend that the Dynasty are savage drow and monsters who live in some cursed hovel. They were forced to recognize us. This will send a message to those countries outside of the borders of Wildemount that we are a sovereign state with military power that cannot be discounted when it comes to global politics. According to some we have lost the battle, but I believe that we have won the war. You two are not the first I have called here to discuss this with me, but as Denmother I believe it is my duty to share with all of the den my vision.”

“ Global politics?” Verin asked.

“Who did the Tal’doreians beg for aid when the dragons nearly roasted their civilization into a well-done husk? It certainly wasn’t us. They begged the Dwendalians. And do you know why?” Deirta asked Verin. “Pretend that you paid attention during your history lessons, Verin. I paid good money for them.”  

“Ever since the drow left the Underdark there has been limited contact between the drow and the denizens of Tal’dorei,” Verin said quietly, repeating a lesson he had been taught long ago, trying not to feel as scolded as he did. “The only drow who remain have long since been twisted by Lolth and the dark entities who whisper in their hearts. Neighbors slaughter neighbors in the streets of their subterranean cities and the Denmothers and Denfathers rule with an authoritarian grip. Those who attempt to escape are often killed by once they reach the surface or are forced to live in secret enclaves as refuges without homes."

“That’s right. We used to not exist in their world outside of the horror stories they told their children to keep them from the dark at night, now we do,” Deirta told him, chin raised. “We have a golden opportunity to influence the world in a way we haven’t before.”

“And what would Den Theylss’ role in that influence be?” Essek asked as he threaded his fingers together.

“The Kryn are the rulers, the Mirimm are the enforcers. Theylss has always been the diplomats . You both know as well as I do that Den Theylss has always filled in the gap with everything the Empress needs. We will even do what the Empress doesn’t know she needs, for her own good of course,” Deirta said. “Den Theylss can be that for many others as well, beyond the Ashkeeper Peaks. Perhaps in an official capacity.”

“How?” Verin asked, frowning. “What does the Dynasty have that would make it worthwhile for any other country to risk the ire of the Empire?”

“We have the greatest resource. Time itself,” Deirta said. “I see no reason why our magics cannot benefit the world. Our cousins live in squalor and terror, it is our duty to return to liberate those remaining and make the peoples of Tal'dorei see drow in a new light."  

“You want to convert the other nations,” Essek said, his voice flat. Verin was staring at Deirta unabashedly.

“Of course they should all see the light of the Luxon,” Deirta explained. “It is doubtful they will reach true enlightenment, but why shouldn’t we aim to bring more souls under the protection of our lord? But just the promise of immortality is the most powerful promise there is, and Den Theylss can be the ambassadors for such a promise. Diplomacy is what we need in a post-war world in order to become a world power, not warmongering. If the Empress cannot see that, then we can make Quana see it. She has been the more reasonable one as of late.”

“What are you implying?” Essek asked, for the first time there was an edge in his voice, an eyebrow raised.

“You have only ever been in the war room, Essek. Not in war. Verin has more experience than you in that regard, but still you are both young and inexperienced and still haven’t died a death for your country,” Deirta sighed. “War is a horrible thing. Bloodshed is a horrible thing, and it tends to be unnecessary and gruesome. It tends to bring up all sorts of feelings and instincts.”

“Are you implying that the Empress isn’t well?” Essek pressed.

“If Leylas Kryn doesn’t see things our way, it is our duty to persuade her of the correct course of action no matter the cost,” Deirta said with a smile. “Our country’s motto is for our den, our country, our Empress, and our Light. There is a reason that den is first.”

What does the Luxon see in you? Verin wanted to demand. Deirta wasn’t righteous, she wasn’t good, she was a monster trying to use the Luxon’s light for her own gain. Of course it should be a good thing for the den to work for peace and prosperity for all drow, but somehow she had even managed to taint that goal with her poison. He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand it. No matter what he did, how good he could be, somehow they were all just cogs in the machinations of her mind. She just had to have some kind of wisdom that Verin didn’t, some way of understanding that made it all make sense. And yet, Verin still felt sick to his stomach. What they were speaking on was nearly treason.

“I will do my duty to my countrymen,” Verin said as he stood up, gathering all of his courage in his spine. “I am the Taskhand of Bazzoxan. I am a son of Theylss and of you but I consider my obligation to the residents of that city to be my concern first and foremost. Denmother, I will respect your decisions, but I ask that you allow me to continue to prove myself in my own way by following my own path.”

“I see,” Deirta said with a disappointed sigh. “I’m sure I could work out a more profitable assignment here in Rosohna or even in Tal’dorei if the opportunity presents itself.”

“I shall endeavor to work to prove myself by my own merit, though the offer humbles me,” Verin said, bowing deeply.  

“And you, Essek, what do you think?” Deirta asked, her gaze sliding over to Essek.

“Frankly, I don’t particularly care about politics,” Essek said bluntly. “Nor do I care about the conditions of the drow of Tal’dorei. Generations ago they made their bed, and should choose to lie in it. Of course you are right that honor to our den is first and foremost our concern, and should you choose to make moves towards Tal’dorei and beyond I will support you. But I also will advise that this gamble is high risk.”  

“And should it fail, you will abandon the den to it’s fate?” Deirta asked.

“I am the Shadowhand, if it looks like your gamble shall fail I will stop it before it gets to that point,” Essek said.

“Is that a threat, Essek?” Deirta asked him, eyes cold.

“Yes,” Essek said with a smile. “The den is first, as you said. I would think you expect nothing less of me.”

“Essek!” Verin hissed, utterly horrified.

“There aren’t many who would have the audacity to scheme their way into being Denfather upon their first life, especially in a house of an Umavi,” Deirta scoffed.

“I have no interest in being Denfather,” Essek said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But should the occasion arise I will find a suitable candidate to replace you.”

“Only one of us here is truly replaceable, think long and hard about your recent decisions before you come to the conclusion about who that is,” Deirta warned him, eyes flashing dangerously. Essek’s shoulders squared and his jaw tensed. “Especially considering the company you have been keeping nowadays.”

Verin wanted to laugh at that idea. Essek? Keeping company? It was ridiculous. But based off of Essek’s frigid demeanor it apparently wasn’t a joke considering that if he had looked frigid before he was now clocking in at below freezing.

“I think this conversation is over,” Essek said as he stood up abruptly, there was something dangerous in his gaze. It was something sharp enough that it could make a person bleed.

“Clearly,” Deirta said shortly.

“Verin,” Essek addressed him clearly for the second time that night. “Would you like to stay here, or would you rather stay in my home? I have a guest room prepared.”

Who are you? Verin wanted to ask.

“I’ll take you up on that then,” was what Verin said instead.

________________________________

Verin had never been to Essek’s home. He had received it after Verin’s assignment in Bazzoxan, and there was certainly no reason to come visit his brother. But Essek’s tower reminded Verin much of a graveyard, cold and impersonal. He could imagine clearly his brother haunting the hallways in the middle of the night, a phantom to his own dreams, walking about in patterns as he tried to work through some esoteric problem that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. There were strange things though; there were books slightly out of place, extra papers, knickknacks, and things that told a story that Verin couldn’t quite piece together. The company Essek had been keeping? Their mother’s jab still echoed freshly in his ears. Had Essek been seeing someone their mother hadn’t approved of? Verin just couldn’t see that being the case. As far as Verin knew, Essek had never had any romantic entanglements nor shown an interest in such things.

“You look like you’ve been stewing on something for a while now,” Essek said as he sat down, discarding his mantle thoughtlessly. He was smaller than Verin remembered, thinner too. He looked worn down by whatever was eating at him, until he was nothing but edges and spite. “Go ahead, before your brain explodes.”

“What was mother talking about?” Verin asked directly, seeing no purpose in dancing around the point. “What company?”

“It won’t come as a shock to you,” Essek said with a sigh as he put out glasses and set out the wine. “But I lost the friends I made.”

“Friends?” Verin asked, seizing on that impossible fact.

“I should be insulted by your surprise at that part of my statement, but I know, I was surprised too,” Essek said quietly, looking off to the side as he poured a more than generous quantity of wine for himself. “But it doesn’t matter any more.”

“What did you do to lose them?” Verin asked as he sat down. Essek took a breath, and then another. He was clearly gathering his thoughts as he did so, finally he gave up whatever mental game he was playing.

“I think there’s something wrong with me, Verin,” Essek admitted, meeting Verin’s gaze openly. “I used to think...I didn’t understand you at all growing up. I thought I was better, but...I think there’s something wrong with me.”  

“Essek…” Verin said, feeling something in his gut shift at Essek’s expression that twisted like he was in pain.

“I made a mistake, I did something...well, I did something for my own gain and I don’t even feel bad about it though I should. I only felt bad that the people close to me...that it hurt them,” Essek said scrubbing at his face. “I can’t understand it. I am trying so hard, I put the pieces together rationally, but I just can't make myself feel as I should."

"How do you think you should feel?" Verin asked.

"Guilty? Awful? Sad ?" Essek offered. "I just feel nothing, and then get frustrated that I feel nothing!"

"I can't help but admit that I'm at a loss for why you want my advice," Verin said quietly.

"Verin…" Essek sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Stop acting slow. I don't have anyone else to ask for advice."

"You do realize how depressing that is, right?" Verin asked him. "Me? You want to ask me ? You don't even like me!"

"By the Light! You are so dense !" Essek snapped and discarded common and began hissing at him in their first language. "Fine, here's me being honest. Yes, Verin, you are my annoying little brother. I find your savior complex insulting to my intelligence, I never found your jokes about my height funny, and you snore so loud I considered smothering you with a pillow because Mother and Father forced us to sleep into the same room-!"

"When our cousin's room was being remodeled? If you are being serious about the constant threat to my life as a child I will actually kill you, what in the nine hells Essek-!"

"So yes, Verin. I don't like you. But you are my brother. You know me better than anyone else in the world, we have a shared history. And I also know you don't like me, so I can trust you to be honest. So please, Verin, help me ," Essek said, his voice desperate, and his chest heaving with his desperation. "You are normal and I'm not and I need to know what I'm doing wrong."

"I don't think you are doing anything wrong...actively," Verin tried to explain, holding out his arms in an attempt to placate him. "You have just...you know, always been like this?"

"Like what?"

".. evil?"

"Well great," Essek said sarcastically, throwing his hands up. "Thank you, that makes me feel so much better."

"What do you want me to say?" Verin asked defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. "You didn't even cry at our father's funeral!"

"There wasn't a body!"

"Why does that matter?" Verin demanded, slamming his hand on the table. "You wouldn't have cried anyways! That’s the problem!"

"I can't fake it," Essek said, sounding honestly distressed. "How would faking it make anything better? If I don't feel it I don't feel it! I can't make myself be different, gods know I want to be."

"What do you want to be, Essek, honestly?" Verin asked his brother.

"I want to be the kind of person who the people I care about don't hate," Essek said quietly. "I'm just not sure it's possible."

"Essek, be serious, do you think the people who you became friends with would like you if you weren't acting like yourself?" Verin asked him, eyebrows shooting up.

"I don't know, it seems like it."

“Essek, really?”

Essek grimaced and downed his entire glass in one fell swoop. For a moment he seemed to truly consider the question, before just shaking his head and giving Verin a rueful smile. It was, perhaps, the most genuine expression that Verin had seen from his brother in years. For a moment he had to remember to breathe, because there he was. This was the Essek that Verin remembered between the pages of old textbooks and ducking between the pillars of their home. That Essek hadn’t been perfect, nor kind, but at least Essek was his brother. That had meant something in Verin’s life, a life that was full of starts and stops and highs and crushing lows all dictated by a woman who Verin was sure had never even seen them as people with lives outside of her. Verin wondered if it made her proud, how thoroughly she had destroyed them.  

"I wonder if I loved them, or the Essek I thought I could be with them," Essek said mournfully, looking at his hands arranged in his lap. "I wonder if I'm grieving them or that Essek. Grief...it’s new to me, as many things are these days."

“If they only liked who you were pretending to be, they never liked you at all,” Verin told him, settling his hand on Essek’s shoulder after a long pause. Essek tensed, but didn’t fight the touch. Verin was sure that he felt as Verin did, like he was crawling out of his own damn skin. But Verin pushed through it, because he could at least give this to Essek.

“That Essek would have probably been a better brother, the brother you deserved,” Essek said with a heavy sigh, pointedly not answering the other question. Verin was positive that Essek didn’t want to verbalize the answer.

“You aren’t technically the only brother I have...but you are my only brother ,” Verin said with a shrug as he removed his hand. “It’s not a question about what I deserve. Frankly, I could have been a better brother to you many times. I let you face the brunt of everything alone, and I’m sorry for that.”

“There were many times I loathed you for that,” Essek said, eyes closed and leaning back against the sofa. “But I also knew that I could handle it...handle her. You were a child...so, it wasn’t your fault. Out of the two of us, I knew I would survive.”

“You were a child too,” Verin said and Essek’s eyelid cracked open.

“I wasn’t a child as you were,” Essek said gently. “I wasn’t like you.”

“You are different from me, that doesn’t mean you weren’t a child,” Verin argued.

“Did I ever tell you that I was there when you were born?” Essek asked, startling Verin with the sudden change of topic. A smile pulled at his teeth. “I haven’t, have I? I remember it because Mother had just pulled me out of the school for my special tutoring. I was so special, I was twelve, and when I arrived home Mother was pregnant with you . She hadn’t even told me, I just showed up and she was ready to pop.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Verin asked, befuddled.

“Of course not,” Essek said with a wave. “She never wrote to me when I was away, and I never came back. All of twenty-four hours after coming home there she was screaming bloody murder in labor, and then she was screaming at me because I wasn’t paying attention to my studies. When I informed her that was going to be impossible with her screeching like a dying roc she threatened to pop my eyeballs out with her nails.”

Verin couldn’t help the laughter that escaped his throat, Essek just rolled his eyes.

“Anyways, to make a long story short, I was bitchy because I finally thought that Mother was paying attention to me and then Mother had to go and push you out not even one day later. Father handed you to me, and said, this is Verin. And I remember thinking you were the ugliest thing I ever saw-”

“Hey!”

“But you were there. And that was enough,” Essek said simply, coming to a neat and concise conclusion. “You have always been enough, Verin. I know that one day...well...this truce of ours may not last, but I wanted you to know that. I never wished that you were anyone else...even if you made me want to kill you and often I didn’t like you. But you were the only one I ever felt close to. You are my brother and maybe the only person in this world that I can consider my friend and though I’m not sure the feeling was mutual...I...”

“Thank you, Essek,” Verin said, his throat feeling oddly sore. “I felt the same.”

For a moment Verin could feel the weight of a hundred years between them. A hundred and ten years should have meant nothing to them, they were children of a soul unbound by time itself. And yet, all of those memories were tangible and meaningful. He and Essek had never known anything else and Verin wondered if that made them who they were. For the first time in Verin’s life, he believed that maybe Essek saw them that way too. Perhaps that was one thing they could agree upon, in a life that was so tangled up in complexity.

“Well, it’s getting late. I’ll teleport you to Bazzoxan tomorrow,” Essek said, getting up slowly, clearly not addressing Verin’s emotions or his sentiment. “The guest bedroom is the first room on the right at the top of the stairs.”

“Wait...Essek,” Verin said and Essek paused, turned, and looked at him. “I’m sorry about your friends. I hope that things work out.”

“Good night, Verin,” Essek said, before floating away.

Verin wondered if he was trying to escape him, or if Essek couldn’t dare to dream.

[unicyclehippo]

Do you accept beau/bright queen prompts? Otherwise for the number thing #3 “It’s three in the morning.” :)

ooh i haven’t done consecuted au in ages! fair warning, i don’t have a concept in mind to fulfill this prompt so imma just,, write & hope that it comes to me

//

They bring Beau back to the Xhorhaus and care for her as best they can, a restoration when they think it might help but mostly salted stew and a cold cloth draped over her neck. They replace it when it quickly becomes drenched in the sweat that pours off her and Beau is left feeling half-melted, like a wax statue, as the sweat and water droplets sit in a tepid film over her entire body. She feels herself sloughing away piece by piece in small and then larger sections; it’s not real—Beau is as hale and whole as ever—but there is something working at her mind that regects who she is, burns and melts away at this form with her weak eyes that cannot catch the moons light, the long arms and unfamiliar hands. The multitudes of selves within Beau clamour to claim sections of her, of themselves in her form, and at one point, when Beau looks down at her hands and finds she does not know them, she moves to the stairs that glide up to the second floor and she lays on the cool grey stone.

The ceiling of the entrance—hall? not quite—of their gifted house is high here. It rises to the second floor along with the staircase and above the doorway is a large circular window of fogged glass that fills most of that space. Beau stares up at it and shivers with fever and clench-jawed dismay; nothing that is happening to her feels good or normal or makes any kind of sense.

She remembers a party. Here in this room. This house they’ve had all of a month. This house that stands barren and watched, with her and her empire compatriots. This house that has never seen a guest while they have been in it—she remembers it filled with people and the chime of laughter and quiet conversation. Beau doesn’t remember herself, but she remembers this.

A party, back when the threat of war did not loom overhead. There were many of those times but the memories seem to be less immediate than those of Beau’s many deaths—a knife, plunged into—

She snaps her eyes back to the window.

Circular fogged glass.

‘Do you think it’s supposed to look like the moon?’ Lee asks her. She looks bored; she always looks bored at events like this.

Surathai flicks her eyes to the window. ‘Hmm.’

Lee scowls. Drinks deeply of the goblet in her hand.

‘Have I offended?’ Surathai asks, tone smooth and empty of apology or any of her own upset. And she is upset. Why? The thought shakes through her like the ringing of a bell and Surathai shivers with it. For a moment, she could swear that sweat dripped in a column down her neck, her spine. But the night is cool and she had not been permitted to wear her armour; her fine long tunic is untouched by sweat.

‘Have I offended,’ Lee repeats, the tone mocking.

Surathai arches a brow. It will make Lee furious. Why? That whisper comes again, and not far behind, like heavy blunt fingers poking and prodding, Who is she? What is this party?

Surathai glances about the space. She misses the way Lee scowls toward her as she scans the space: the Den umavi are clustered together like gossiping hens deeper into the house, their consorts either at their shoulders or, if they’re particularly lax, a step back from that most holy of spaces.

Lee tries shift deeper into the house without her, flanking through the east wing, a spacious library that corners onto the small dining hall.

Surathai wasn’t reborn yesterday. She follows easily. Each time Lee tries to ditch her, Surathai adjusts.

‘The more I must pay attention to you,’ she says, stepping into the space by Lee’s shoulder after the young woman had managed to put an entire door between them, ‘the less attention I have for would-be assassins.’

Lee scoffs.

‘Leylas,’

‘Shouldn’t you be calling me Your Majesty,’ Lee cuts her off, and the words sound bitter as she spits them toward her. ‘If you’re so intent on playing as my guard dog, at least do it properly.’

Surathai blinks. ‘Is that why you’re upset?’

Lee looks up from the spread—delicious, fresh, a real effort from the new Den—and for the first time this evening her lips soften from the flat obsidian slash they have been.

‘It’s a party, Sura. You’re my betrothed. You’re supposed to be on my arm, not at my shoulder.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh,’ Lee repeats, but this time her mocking is far more gentle. Teasing, really. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘Was I supposed to?’

‘You’re not exactly dressed to fight assassins,’

‘I would make do.’

‘It’s a very expensive fabric.’

Surathai plucks at her tunic with a slow of mild distaste. ‘You do not need to buy me expensive items. Especially not clothing.’

‘I’m the Queen, nothing is expensive for me,’ Lee says with a wave of her hand. She laughs then, not quietly, and waves her hand far more imperiously when varied heads turn to look at the Queen and her Consort half-hidden in the next room. Lee waits until everyone averts their eyes. Then, ‘I’m joking, Sura. Don’t look so foul with me.’

‘Our people have need of that coin,’

‘I know, my love.’ The endearment slips out, the way so many secrets and memories do between them.

They’ve said those words many lifetimes over; they still bring a bruising flush to Surathai’s cheeks.

‘Hmph,’ she says.

Lee ducks her head.

No longer upset, Lee loses the sharp bearing with which she had cut through this party so easily before. She is caught in many a discussion with many a boring individual and as the night wears on, so too does the party on Lee’s patience.

Surathai steps in before Lee’s new tongue can get her in trouble with an old friend. She wraps her fingers around Lee’s wrist and pretends to not be surprised when Lee rests a good portion of her weight comfortably into her.

‘It’s a party tonight, Taskhand,’ Surathai chides. She is allowed to chide. Her only concern is the Queen and does not have to pretend otherwise, unlike her betrothed. ‘Forgive us but we haven’t had an opportunity to dance...’

‘Of course.’ The Taskhand bows, excuses himself.

Lee shifts, sets her chin on Surathai’s shoulder. ‘Bodyguard or betrothed, whichever, don’t let anyone talk to me for—the rest of the night.’ A great yawn cracks her jaw.

‘Shall I glare at them?’ Surathai asks, voice soft, cajoling.

‘Oh yes. You glare so nicely.’

‘Mm. I do try.’

Lee chuckles. Shifts closer still, winding her arms around Surathai’s middle in a loose hug. Sura returns the gesture slowly and begins to sway to the gentle music that drifts through all of this house.

‘What time is it?’

‘Late. Early, really.’ Sura glances to one of her disguised guards, flashes a question. When they respond, she tells Lee, ‘Three in the morning.’

Lee groans. ‘My feet are killing me.’

Surathai hums. Is doubly relieved that she had passed over the death trap shoes that had been delivered with the outfit. Her own boots could carry her halfway to Asarius Settlement before she started to blister.

‘Shall I carry you home?’

Lee’s arms cinch tighter. She turns, nose brushing against the sensation skin of Surathai’s neck. ‘Would you?’ she asks. Breathes. The question tickles against her skin on that quiet exhale; Surathai shivers.

‘Of course.’

‘Because I am your Queen?’ Lee asks. She tucks her face more fully into Surathai’s neck so that her expression cannot be seen no matter how Sura tries; her tone is entirely empty save for the note of the question.

Sura hesitates. She isn’t sure precisely what Lee wants from her; her fallback then, the oath she had sworn two-fold upon her sword, and the promise of her rebirth itself. Dedication to her Queen, and all else that follows—honesty, forthrightness, protection. Love had not entered that vow on any iteration; that was sworn later, that third oath, upon her knees once more.

‘Because you are my queen, and my wife-to-be, and my wife-who-was, and the woman I choose life after life.’ Lee hums. Surathai frowns. Had that not been the right answer? She searches her mind for what is missing and can think only that she would like for Lee to laugh. ‘I like carrying you,’ she blurts, feeling abruptly and stingingly her young age at the clumsy words.

She gets her wish though. Lee laughs suddenly, pulls back—not out of her hold, but enough that she can see Sura’s face.

‘Is that so?’

‘Well—I’m—‘

‘Strong.’ Lee drags a nail down one of Sura’s arms, over the dip and trip of her muscles. ‘I‘ve noticed.’

‘I wasn’t. Last time.’

‘Hmm.’

‘You like?’ Sura asks, clumsy pre-century flirting clogging her thoughts and tongue. She flexes. She hopes this isn’t the life Leylas decides actually this version of my wife is far too awkward.

//

Beau comes awake at the sensation of a cold hand on her head. Blinks up into blue.

‘Jes?’

Her friend smiles, relief clear across her face. ‘Beau! You’re awake! Oh my gosh, Beau, I’ve been so worried, you were on the stairs and you were, like, just staring at the roof and Fjord said maybe you had been paralysed or, or, your mind was gone because you couldn’t hear us and that wasn’t a fun time at all but then you started talking and Caleb said it was Undercommon?’ Jester says all in a rush.

Beau hears most of it. She understands most of what she hears.

‘It’s getting worse, Beau,’ Jester tells her.

‘I know.’

‘I think it’s time.’

‘I dont—I don’t want—‘

‘I know,’ she agrees, and winds cold fingers into Beau’s.

The shock of it is nice, like cold water on a hot day. Refreshing. Beau clutches at Jester’s hand, tries not to feel like the other girl has seen too much of her, seen her sick and shivering and way too fucking weak, tries not to feel like so much grime at the bottom of the bucket.

‘I know it’s scary, Beau, and you probably don’t want people in your mind,’

Beau agrees with a grunt.

‘But we don’t know how to help you and—‘ Jester catches her bottom lip between sharp teeth, worries at it. Her brows push together and up, the picture of concern. ‘You’re in pain, Beau. We don’t want—I don’t want you in pain anymore. It’s awful, it’s just awful.’

She blinks up at her best friend. ‘Feels—like my head is all - crammed full.’

‘Memories?’

‘Mm. Yeah.’

‘Does it hurt?’

The heat begins to ebb and fade, lulling her and sapping with it her energy. Beau feels heavy, her tongue dry and thick in her mouth. ‘Only when I die,’ she says unthinkingly.

Jester gasps. Squeezes her hands tighter. ‘Beau...’

‘Ask ‘em if it’ll help? I wanna—finish this. Stupid. To put it off. Stupid.’

‘No, no.’ Jester brushes her fingers over Beau’s clammy forehead. ‘Not stupid. You’re just—stubborn.’

Through her slow-blinking eyes, Beau sees Jester smile and it’s one of the loveliest things she’s seen in all her lives. She thinks she says as much. Maybe she doesn’t. She sleeps.

[astraeal]

new updated playlist for fáelán because she’s a more dimensional character in my mind, and as such her playlist needed to reflect that! see below the cut for me gushing about the organization for this playlist, or just listen to listen 🥰🥰

Act I. Home

Her relationship with her home – the Pallid Grove, the place she was born and came from – is changing as she’s discovering more things about it. As it is, we the players and Fáelán the character, don’t know a whole lot about it. So it’s shrouded with mystery, even as she’s getting hints and memories unlocked with the help of the Luxon, and I wanted to secure that just...slightly “off” feeling of the Pallid Grove. It’s the sight of such horrible divine influence – both positive and negative – and the people inside haven’t left for hundreds of years in the aftermath that it has this almost...closed door, on the inside looking out feeling to it. Is that from fear? Safety? Community? Paranoia? I wanted to explore that. 

Big Houses – Squalloscope

“In the circle around the kitchen table/I say my "amen" because I feel blessed/Secretly hoping while joining hands that you can't feel my trembling fingertips” 

This too Shall Pass – Danny Schmidt

“But deep inside/When every cell divides/Well, it sets upon the rule that states/Self-interest is divine”

Liability – Lorde

“You're all gonna watch me/Disappear into the sun”

Shrike - Hozier 

“Remember me love, when I'm reborn/As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn”

Act II. Selection Side A (Luxon Love Letters) 

At some point in her life in the Pallid Grove, Fáelán starts getting this pull from the Luxon. It leads her to Rosohna, but before that there’s an indeterminate amount of time that passes between when she left the Pallid Grove and when she arrived in Rosohna. This movement is dedicated to that journey, the part of her life that she doesn’t have any memory of, because somehow all alone she crossed the entire Wildemount continent and had absolutely no idea how she did so. It’s important to note that neither do I, the player! It’s a complete mystery. But the only thing she remembers from that time is the incessant need to be near the Luxon, and that was her only driving force. So while some of these are “love” songs, they’re also songs to the Luxon. It’s those conversations with this entity that’s pulling her closer, from the weariness of a long travel (1000 Nights) to the doubt cast by not getting a ton of answers (Games), that remain with her even now. 

1000 Nights - FRENSHIP

“There's a bulletproof bond/Between meaning and you”

Heaven/Hell - CHVRCHES

“If none of this is real, then show me what you feel/'Cause I can't tell”

Games – Tessa Violet

“And I long to take you at your word, but then/All along you're hiding even when you're by my side”

It’s You – Ali Gatie 

“I'm hurting inside/I'm so scared to fall in love/But if it's you then I'll try”

Act III. Arrival

This encapsulates really the most recent ~50 years of her life, about how much she remembers after her journey. In these brief songs, we see how different she is from her old “home”, her old space of the Pallid Grove. Things are different, she has a higher energy now, she’s in a place where she has her new mom and her new brother and the Luxon. With that connection satisfied, she feels like she can take on the world! In a lot of ways, this is the highest energy of the movements, because she’s feeling. Feeling both good and bad things, but she’s alive and she’s feeling and her powers have begun to manifest the more she devotes herself to the Luxon and the Lucid Bastion and the Dynasty in general. 

Up To Something - Naaz

“Don't want to hurt them/But this is who I am/Chasing ambitions/Making my own mistakes”

Capsize - FRENSHIP

“Drop tears in the morning/Give in to the lonely”

When You Were Young - The Killers

“You sit there in your heartache/Waiting on some beautiful boy to/To save you from your old ways”

Wild Things - Alessia Cara

“I lose my balance on these eggshells/You tell me to tread, I'd rather be a wild one instead”

Act IV. Selection Side B (Conscription)

Obviously, she can’t remain in the temple forever. And as tensions rise with the Empire, she gets selected to join the Xhorsquad party, by the Taskhand himself. In obvious ways, this is another way that the Luxon has chosen her to represent something that it believes in, and also another way for her to serve her Dynasty. But it’s dark and scary and far from the comforts of home. She doubted herself a lot, doubted her abilities and her place in the team and her morals when surrounded by people who have definitely killed before in their lives while she’s lived in the Lucid Bastion. 

The Sound of Silence - Pentatonix

“And in the naked light I saw/Ten thousand people, maybe more...And no one dared/Disturb the sound of silence”

Only If For A Night - Florence + The Machine

“And the only solution was to stand and fight/And my body was bruised and I was set alight/But you came over me like some holy rite/And although I was burning, you're the only light”

Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine

“And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope/It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat”

Freaking Out - A R I Z O N A 

“It's stupid, but I'm better off and I'll stay quiet/'Cause I pushed away all the ones that hold me close”

Act V. (Dis)Connection

The most current act, the one she’s playing out right now. She’s beginning to emotionally connect and respond to the people around her, and beginning to understand that not everyone you spend a lot of time around is going to be exactly like you. But she’s still privileging the needs of others above the emotional needs of herself, with some small exceptions. Recently she’s let in Tanvir and Bird, two of the three that she feels closest to, and they know more about her than other party members. And after they began the process for consecution, she now feels even closer to Tanvir. They were the only two to leave the Heart in tears, after all. But, as she’s used to being the person who channels the Luxon to help others in need, she’s trying to keep her own emotions at bay. How that will work out, we’ve yet to see! But as indicated by those final two songs...she’s going to have to talk about it sooner rather than later. 

Saturdays (feat. HAIM) - Twin Shadow, HAIM

“When we dance in the dark in the room where it all gets real/I know you know how it feels/Saturdays/When the moonlight hit up your face and let love spark”

Too Much - Carly Rae Jepsen

“Trust the, trust the feeling/It's hard to get to know you/But I'm down”

Someone New - Hozier

“I wake, at the first cringe of morning/And my heart's already sinned/How pure, how sweet the love beneath it yeah/You would pray for him”

Crush - Tessa Violet

“I wanna touch you but don't wanna be weird/It's such a rush, I'm thinking wish you were here”

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

Essek meta: the monster post

(Beware, long post incoming)

I’ve been sitting on my thoughts on Essek for days, and pretty much all my asks have been on the subject. I decided that instead of answering them all, I’d do my best to gather all my thoughts and reasoning into one post.

At this stage, there’s no solid evidence for or against Essek’s goals and morals being opposed to the Mighty Nein’s. Circumstantial evidence, yes. He’s been very accomodating, but not necessarily suspiciously so. There have been small hints that maybe he’d rather do things the Mighty Nein’s way, not the Bright Queen’s.

And I will say this: prior to this episode, even good insight checks apparently revealed nothing alarming about Essek or his motives. They didn’t entirely absolve him of suspicion, but neither did they create more.

In fact, the main cause for concern this episode was that Essek’s behaviour seems to have changed. Nott says he was acting “funky,” which implies she was using her previous experience with him as a basis for comparison. She goes on to equivocate with “we haven’t seen him in a while...”

However (and this is going to be a bit controversial), I think people are being a bit wilfully blind in regards to Essek. Many, many metas pointing out that Essek may just be at the end of his rope, tired, and wanting someone to rely on (while hoping that he can do so on the Mighty Nein).

They’re all good, solid theories, and I hope that they’re true! But but in the end there are factors I’ve notice that make me reluctant to buy into it wholesale.

Nott asked Caleb to scry on Adeen, not Essek. If she was concerned about Essek in general, wouldn’t she ask to check in on him? Sure, you can say “Essek is a powerful wizard, he’s probably protected,” but you could say the same of a max security prisoner who’s being actively watched over. Caleb literally only turned the idea down because of that. Hell, even Nott knew that! She starts with, “would it be a terrible idea...” when she pitches scrying on Adeen. And yet, she suggested it anyway.

Nott must have thought there would be something to gain by looking at Adeen, which means this isn’t just about Essek’s demeanor. It’s about his relationship to Adeen specifically. She says, “Something about the way that he was behaving when we were at that prison was funny to me.”

It’s not just Essek being overworked or tired in general. It’s Essek on this specific matter. And no matter how drunk or silly Nott can be, she’s not stupid. She’s fucking smart. She was the second smartest member of the party until Beau got the circlet. Nott rarely brings up genuine, serious concerns, and she treated this with nervous gravity.

Obviously the players can misinterpret what they get from whispers, but I don’t think Matt leaves it so open to interpretation that Nott could notice things that point to simple (if extreme) stress and misinterpret it as Essek being shady.

Consider this, too: in the conversation leading up to Fjord’s “interrogation” of Adeen, Essek insists multiple times that they used various means to force the truth from Adeen, and that while Adeen initially insisted he had no idea what was going on (as any traitor would), “we managed to excise the truth, and the Taskhand has, ah, given his hand, if you will.”

And yet as soon as Fjord goes in there, Adeen displays confusion, distress, and readily admits that he has no idea what’s going on while confessing he does think he did things (that he also insists he would never do). How the hell would Essek & Co have missed that?

I suppose you could say that Adeen may have been answering pointed questions during interrogation, and they would have ignored any “I don’t know” type answers, but still. It’s a pretty big fucking thing to miss.

Essek didn’t immediately go to the Bright Queen with the information on Adeen, but he clearly intended to speak with her soon, and only put it off to see the Mighty Nein first. When the Nein propose that all of them go to see the Bright Queen together, Essek is enthusiastic, and prompts for them to go immediately, only waiting when the Nein express an interest in Adeen. He is again the one to prompt a meeting with the Bright Queen after returning from checking Adeen for a mark.

So, in my eyes, his decision to go to meet the Nein briefly before seeing the Bright Queen was not a reflection of his hesitancy to implicate or even condemn Adeen to the Bright Queen, but rather came from the knowledge that the Nein would have important and relevant information. As he said, he didn’t want to give information to the Bright Queen “piecemeal.” He’d rather wait and give her a full report. Waiting to see what the Nein had to offer fits in perfectly with that attitude.

Essek is very, very good at being non-defensive, rational, reasonable, and even agreeable. He listens to the Nein when they start theorising about Adeen possibly being under magical influence. He agrees to the points they make. He readily entertains their notions... without pushing any of them any further, and without putting forward HIS thoughts on the matter.

I don’t believe he was reluctant to throw Adeen under the bus. He didn’t bring up the mind control theory to the Bright Queen at all. Jester literally says, “I thought Essek would...” before launching into her “Adeen may not be guilty” pitch.

Nott’s insight was instigated on Essek’s return from checking Adeen for a mark,  though she clearly got insight as to his behaviour earlier in the prison as well. That may imply that Essek was not completely honest about his search of Adeen for evidence of mind control. 

Clearly, the mind control theory isn’t one Essek was personally enthused about.

Possibly relevantly, an anon pointed out:

Rewatching the scene, anon is right. Yes, technically Adeen is banging his head against the wall, but he doesn't knock himself out. He “exhales” and starts snoring. And remember, Matt ruled that a creature willingly banging their own head against something wasn’t enough to fall unconscious. So... Adeen fell asleep? In the middle of a distressed, high emotion downward spiral? With Essek, a highly adept wizard, waiting and watching in the shadows? Hm. Could be innocent. It’s perfectly understandable that someone who’s been through as much mental, emotional, and physical duress as Adeen has would be exhausted. But in light of everything else I’m trying to unpack here, I though it was worth noting.

All of the suspicion of Essek is wrapped up with Adeen, and other relevant factors point to him not especially wanting Adeen to be absolved of guilt. This could mean many things: he’s the traitor, he has it out for Adeen specifically, he’s hiding some information he discovered relevant to Adeen, he just wants the search for the traitor to be over with. Who knows? But I certainly don’t believe Nott was simply observing high stress from his job.

In the end, the real evidence against Essek's guilt, to any degree, is his personality. Critters like him. The Nein like him. He’s been a helpful ally who everyone seems to fall head over heels for without Essek trying for that kind of reception (see Matt’s confusion at him being instantly labeled “hot boi”). People are eager to look to his personality, his current position, and give him sympathetic internal reasoning that is pure supposition.

Again, it’s good supposition! They’re good theories! But I don’t think you can discount or sweep under the rug the causes for concern so easily.

To be quite frank, we still have no solid evidence against Essek being the/a traitor, while we HAVE been given cause to doubt his complete innocence. The fandom bias towards him especially makes me a bit reluctant to accept the lenient answer straight off the bat. 

I think that there’s something more going on with him. I’m also not convinced he’s a traitor, especially not long term. There’s simply not enough for me to go off of in making up my mind. But I felt it was necessary to point out that the concern about Essek in this instance has real merit, and I wasn’t really seeing that brought up and discussed. 

So... here you go, I guess?

[makeawisdom]

Essek and why I’m sure he doesn’t like his job

I said I will write more things about Essek’s life and that was a threat I’m ready to carry out. This’s related to the post I made about him and expectations, which is my starting point, if you’d like to know the context.

Ok, let’s ramble again. We already know Essek’s den is powerful, and that her mother, specifically, must’ve influenced a lot of his life decisions. I’m positive that she and the Den are somehow linked to Essek’s status as the Shadowhand, and I think he doesn’t particularly like to be in that position.

What is the role of the Shadowhand? We don’t know about the nuances, but what we do know is that Essek is related to an intelligence service of some kind. He was the one that knew about Yeza’s situation at the prision and he was who make the final decision of release him. Also, he seemed to be in charge of all the scourger and the Taskhand thing. My educated guess is that he oversees everything related to individuals that are -or could be- a menace to the Dynasty. That’s why it makes sense he is the one assigned as the M9’s steward and not any other. If they had been spies, Essek would have been the one that must have to deal with them anyway.

If we think about what we know about Essek’s interests and abilities, it doesn’t make sense. It’s not like dunamancy it’s only a mean to an end for him. He has showed that it’s more than a tool for his jobs. He’s passionate about magic, he loves knowledge. He seems more fitted to be a scholar, a researcher, or a court mage, perhaps. Why on earth is he some kind of spymaster, then?

Because of his den, of course. If he had been a scholar at the Conservatory, he wouldn’t have had a lot of political leverage. He would have had magic power, but probably not so much influence inside the court. Why not be a court mage, then? If there are any in the Dynasty, Essek would be too young to work as such. He’s a prodigy, but surely that position would be already hold by someone with more experience than him. Dunamancy seem like a must, a basic knowledge for political and for military purposes that can be use in many different ways. Essek has talents, talents that could be useful for almost any position within the court. The Shadowhand, for instance, would be one of them.

Perhaps he it’s not the best fitted for the job. It could be he’s not even interested on it, but damn if he would not try if his den asks him to do it. Or even it wasn’t even necessary that his den ask him: he probably knows what his den wants. If there was a vacant position and he could get it, everyone will respect him. He fought to earn a place on his den. Why wouldn’t he do the same to earn a place on court? It will be just another step more to show that he is valid, that he belongs to the den and that he can be of use.

So, what I’m saying is that it wasn’t really his dream to be the Shadowhand. It’s like that job that you get in order to survive -because we live in a society-, so you can come back home every day and spend your free time on something you actually like, that in his case will be magic. Be the Shadowhand must have its advantages: connections and maybe funds for his projects. But at the end of the day, being the Shadowhand doesn’t seem like something he would have chosen if the opportunity was given to him.

Now I have thoughts about what the M9 would mean in Essek’s life, a life that he hasn’t really built for himself, but this is already too long, so I will let it for some other occasion.

[averydistinctivestyle]

So, I've been thinking about the peace talks.

Specifically my thought is this: if the Mighty Nein don't convince someone in the Assembly that handing over the Dynasty's missing Beacon is in their best interests, in three and a half weeks the war is going to reignite in a very bad way. Bear with me for a second here.

The Dynasty claims ownership over all Beacons, that's true, just like many state-sponsored institutions have claimed things that rightfully have no owner, if they even existed (holy relics, the idea that the "Holy Land" of Israel belonged to Christendom, not the Islamic rulers of that age, that sparked off several religious wars). If the Dynasty learns that the Empire has a new Beacon, they will no doubt want to claim both it and the stolen Beacon as their rightful property as followers of the Luxon. This is true whether they discover the Beacon's existence at the peace talks or later, and there's nothing the Nein can do to change that.

However, the rules of negotiation, in war, require good faith on the part of both sides. This is why, once negotiations were set, the temporary truce became much less tenuous and much more stable. Historically, you did not want to be the bastard that broke a truce. Not only was it seen as dishonest and dangerous (peace talks are a necessary part of wars, of all wars, if you want them to ever end; a people who know there is no option for peace start doing the really ruthless shit only desperate people do, and the law of reprisal means that if it got that bad for one side, the other would be forced to respond in kind, which ends in extermination), but especially in our world, oathbreaking had a decidedly religious undertone to it (see Dante's Inferno, in which oathbreakers are relegated to the deepest circle of hell, considered worse than a lot of horrifying people). There was also the Greek concept of hospitality, in which host and guest were bound to a sacred pact of non-aggression that Zeus supposedly would randomly test out and curse or bless people as appropriate, that shows how long the idea that treachery is very bad has been around.

No surprise, then, that in our world peace talks were massively important. There is little evidence of any such divine prerogative in Exandria, but that evidence might well only be missing because the first exposure we've had to peace talks hasn't happened yet. The one thing that we do know is that envoys do travel even between kingdoms, and they are able to offer the possibility of negotiations even during open war. As a semi-aside - for these envoys to exist and survive, the system of peace negotiations has to be well-established. Messengers, good ones, are valuable, and without a system in place to protect them, very vulnerable. They got killed sometimes ("don't shoot the messenger"). Potentially they could be accused as spies, as the Mighty Nein were, and imprisoned and executed as unlawful combatants.

But these envoys from Rosohna are confident enough to speak with their counterparts on the other side without fearing death, because the system in place protects them from the violence they could otherwise face (because, again, no war could ever end in anything less than total annihilation without some sort of negotiation system in place - see why they're valuable?). Therefore, some form of formalized protection exists for them, and this means that, very likely, formalized parlay procedures also exist, with the same sort of restraints that existed in our world during the past.

This gets to my point: lying during peace talks, especially the way the Empire is about to try to lie, is a very bad idea. It’s an indication of bad faith on the part of the liars, and with that excuse for the delegates from Xhorhas, the parlay can easily break down and even reignite the very war that it is meant to stop. If the Empire claims to offer a stolen beacon at one point, one which is already some sort of anchor for souls in Xhorhas, and they then produce another Beacon, one without the same sort of significance that an in-use Beacon has culturally, which the Dynasty still feels is their rightful property, and they also claim to have never had that missing Beacon at all, the best-case scenario is that the negotiations get really tense and the delegates from Rosohna leave them unresolved to inform the Bright Queen of this new information. The worst-case scenario, the delegates from Rosohna declare that the Empire has broken faith during peace talks, thus enabling the Dynasty to attack then and there without themselves being considered bastard oath-breakers, all hell breaks loose, and the Mighty Nein are forced to pick a side in this horribly gray conflict.

I want to say that Matt wouldn’t go worst-case scenario with the Kryn representatives. I want to. However, the Kryn have shown themselves to operate on the laws of war almost to a fault. Their treatment of unlawful combatants such as the Scourger and the Taskhand (though in a semi-unrelated conflict, an unlawful combatant himself) indicates some very brutal policy choices predicated on the laws of war. Add to that the Bright Queen’s insistence that the cycle of violence can only be broken permanently by literally breaking the enemy, indicating a terribly strict adherence to the law of reprisal, and the knowledge that Trent Ikithon will most certainly be present at the talks, leads me to believe that if the talks don’t devolve into utter violence and chaos, it will only be by some form of divine intervention. 

Because Essek was right; if the Kryn know that the Empire has two Beacons, the war cannot stop. The Kryn can and might view the Empire’s deceit as a bad-faith interference in their most holy of commands, as well as an attempt to deceive and formulate a peace treaty on fraudulent grounds. So the Mighty Nein, having received that warning from a very highly-ranked NPC, but not having the realization that, oh, fuck, we have to go to Rexxentrum right now and persuade Oremid Hass that the Assembly’s best interests are to turn over the stolen beacon, are absolutely fucked right now. Even if the peace talks don’t go ass over teakettle as I think they will, the Kryn delegates are going to report back to the Bright Queen, and the fact that the Beacon isn’t already in-use is going to come out, and the Mighty Nein are the people who told her that the Empire was willing to trade the in-use Beacon back to the Dynasty. The Nein are in a much more precarious position than they realize right now by having not spoken to any Assembly members since the peace talks were organized, and the worst thing is, I think they think the problem is solved. Which is going to be a damn horrible realization when it does come out that, oh fuck, we forgot the most important detail you could possibly ever forget.

Like, I hope that the live show features a conversation where one of them points out that the Empire is lying and should at least lie better, and that the reason Nott’s offer to Isharnai was so potent is because, right now, she wouldn’t have to do a damn thing to fulfill her side of the bargain other than spike a drink and watch. 

Oh, and when the war sparks back up, the Nein are, literally best-case-scenario, gonna be on an island in the middle of nowhere, with no news, possibly with no idea that it’s happened until they return from that clusterfuck of possibly an accidental ascension-worthy miracle to utter chaos. 

[yfere]

Two things

I finished the episode! And as always, have thoughts on both Essek As Possible Traitor and the M9′s approach to the BQ....

...And let’s start with the second thing first. I understand but disagree with the decision (was it intentional?) to withold the information about the Beacon offered to the Dynasty NOT being the one stolen from them, but a third, additional Beacon unearthed at Pride’s Call. This being that, while the M9 were able to use language about a “returning” of Beacons to successfully urge the BQ into the first stage of peace negotiations, I sincerely doubt there won’t be fallout when the BQ hears the Empire’s very official line of “we never stole anything, but you can have this Beacon if it’s so important to you I guess.” She’s invested in the Beacon not just as a cultural artifact, but as something that belonged to them, and which literally contains the souls of her people. She also wants “amends” to be made to her in the way Caleb Widogast has offered, which means she wants either the Empire to admit to responsibility or to work with her in proving that a third party is responsible for all that has happened, and bringing that third party to justice. 

I believe that if the M9 had been more directly forthright about the status of the Beacon being offered (vague statements about “the Assembly trying to bend the situation for their own ends” is profoundly unhelpful without the evidence leading to these suspicions) they would have increased their standing and trustworthiness to the BQ and also likely been given additional official leeway to investigate the continued deception being perpetuated by agents within the Empire. Convincing her to agree to peace talks while having this information and being on her guard, while using the situation for their ends--that’s helpful, while keeping her in the dark due to her uncompromising anger over the war is good in the moment but could backfire catastrophically 

Which brings us to Essek,

a suspected traitor. He also deliberately witheld information from the BQ during the meeting--his motivation clearly being to as cleanly as possible place all blame on the Taskhand for the stolen Beacons and end the investigation (the how and justice of the matter not being as important to him). As long as the investigation remains open, suspicion is also cast on him, and we’ve seen the wear of that on him in previous sessions. But he certainly didn’t hinder the M9 voicing their messy suspicions of the Cult of Tharizdun, either. I hypothesize that while Essek’s status as a traitor is a possibility, that Beau is incorrect in her overall assumption of the cult of Tharizdun as a third party being responsible for the escalation of the conflict--rather, I think that the Assembly at least and Essek possibly is using the activities of the cult of Tharizdun for their own ends--manipulating their zealots both to control the direction of the war and as a convenient scapegoat to their own activities.

As Essek has admitted, his standing is reliant in part on the M9′s activities in Xhorhas. Den Thelyss is the one who immediately and tellingly took a gamble on the M9 in the immediate aftermath of their heroics with the dodecahedron and offered them sanctuary/a home within the city. Essek has also actively encouraged the hunt for Obann and the Angel of Irons cult, been a valuable assist in the chase, and in vouching for the M9 has gained influence as they have accrued success. The Shadowhand would be keenly aware that not only is he in the perfect position to frame another person for betrayal in the BQ’s court (he’s a master of intelligence and interrogation and therefore holds most all the cards in these matters) but that everyone in the BQ court would know that as well and therefore suspect his findings. Bringing in the vocally neutral M9 to lend credibility to his case and muddy the waters further by accusing the cult of Tharizdun would accomplish his goals very well--because of their trustworthiness in the court, they are perhaps the only ones capable of truly deflecting suspicion off himself. And it’s relatively simple to keep off their bad books, isn’t it--just be friends, just give them help when they ask for it (homes and spells and transportation, oh my). Express sympathy for their goals!

Of course, Essek desperately manipulating an investigation to ensure his continued survival doesn’t automatically mark him a traitor--innocent or guilty, his life was at risk and he would gain from ending things quickly and cleanly. And him using the M9 to leverage political power when he himself is a youngster and a newcomer to the Dens without much clout extending beyond his status as a prodigy--that doesn’t point to guilt either. It’s just that he would certainly not be hurt by any of this, were he a traitor. 

As for the Cult--I think it more likely they are being used as tools than it being the other way around. We already know that the locations the Anchors were dropped in were targeted to have a discernible impact on the war (like the one in the mountains being made to cripple the mines and therefore the Dynasty’s ability to create weapons). We know from Jester’s first scry that Vence was not an orchestrator but rather an underling in his own cult’s hierarchy taking orders from others, and we know Obann was likely acting in ignorance of the true nature of his god (unlike Vence) and, if that is the case, would be be even lower on the totem pole when it comes to having an idea of the bigger picture at play.

 That the Anchors were planted within the Empire does not at all forestall the possibility of the Assembly being responsible--the motivation most obviously presenting itself being to take advantage of a continued war to eventually wrest political control away from King Dwendal and seizing it themselves, thus ending the “cooperation” between the two factions in running Empire affairs and settling things decidedly in their own favor. The Cultists directly involved in these affairs were direct underlings of important members of the Assembly--meaning it’s easy enough to dispose of them when their activities become inconvenient, and also easy to disown them and claim ignorance when they are discovered. “Oh dear, both of us have been manipulated!” they cry to King Dwendal and the Bright Queen, making a gift of these agents while remaining in the clear themselves. 

The difference being that Vence is a confirmed member of the cult who was probably given all the tools by his superiors he needed to escape unscathed, while the Taskhand rather had a clumsy bit of mind alteration performed on him which would have aroused suspicion, had the M9 not been around to point that suspicion back at the Cult Of Tharizdun.

What I want to know is more about Dynasty history and politics. What would give someone like Essek, or indeed anyone else in the court the incentive to cooperate with the Assembly, which we have reason to think is being done outside of cult activities? What Dens or people have beef with the BQ, and are willing to use Tharizdun and fanatics to hurt her?

[fortunately-pancakes]

Ok the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it isn’t so much a job title as it is his title. Like, maybe there was no previous Shadowhand and it’s just him, Shadowhand Essek Thelyss.

He’s a noble member of the Queen’s court, part of one of the three most powerful dens in the Dynasty. So maybe when he got old enough or proved himself to be someone worthy of being in court, they chose a title for him or he chose it himself.

If you think about the Dynasty, it’s the same people in the same titles century after century. It seems fair to say there’s only been one Bright Queen, that just is Leylas Kryn because there’s no passing of her title to anyone. Some of the other titles we know are Sunbreaker and Skysybil which easily sound like they could be highly specific to Olomon and Abrianna Mirimm, like made specifically for them.

The only titles we’ve really seen repeat are Taskhand and I guess Umavi — but I don’t think we necessarily know if anyone goes around saying Umavi Deirta like it’s her title. The newest one we know about is Starguide Uraya, whiiiich idk sounds like it could be Uraya is the only Starguide or there’s multiple Starguides it’s hard to tell

Anyway I guess my point is maybe “Shadowhand” isn’t meant to symbolize any sort of job description but rather that Essek is an important noble who was granted the respect of his own unique title

For all that ep 124 illuminated us on where Essek’s head is at, it only served to make it the answer to what the heck a Shadowhand does more confusing

Like, he was able to just ask “hey send me somewhere far away!” and someone (the Bright Queen?) was like sure, you like magic right? go be in charge of this magical artifact collection outpost

And Essek was like sweet I don’t know much about Aeor but here I go. Assassins can’t find me now!

Okay??? Does your title mean anything other than “shady dude who has some political power but not that much political power”????

[unicyclehippo]

"Protection" for consecuted au? (:

The assassins had been caught long before they reached her chambers. A human woman, dark hair long around a moon-blessed face, pale and round and full. She would look lovely - sweet, even - if not for the look of absolute hatred in those eyes. 

‘You know who I am.’

It is not a question. 

‘Yes,’ the assassin spits. She lunges forward, strains against the silver-link chains that hold her in place. ‘Empress bitch.’

Leylas sits back in her throne. Casts a look over the half court that is assembled - half to see who is here to witness this, half to see how the woman deals with boredom as reaction to her vitriol. She pauses a moment on the dark-skinned human who leans so arrogantly against Den Druvkai’s throne - empty for the past few years, it is nonetheless not the place for the human who still refuses amnesis.

‘Consider me appalled,’ Leylas intones, tone flat with boredom. ‘What was your purpose here? To kill me?’

‘Yes.’

She considers handing her over to the Taskhand right then and there but notices Beauregard - always notices her - and the way the woman stiffens, eyes narrowed to keen attention. Blue eyes lift to hers and Leylas arches a brow.

Lying, Beauregard mouths. 

‘Liars are not kindly treated in the Dungeon of Penance. If there is something you wish to say, you can do so now. Or,’ Leylas moves her staff from one hand to the other as she shifts an inch forward on her throne and leans forward. From the momentary flicker of fear in the would-be-assassin’s eyes - and the look of veiled admiration in Beauregard’s that she has never in any life been able to hide well - she knows she cuts an intimidating figure. ‘My Shadowhand can pull it from you, along with your tongue when you are dead. Choose!’

The assassin grins. Blood stains between her teeth, drips down over her lips and down her jaw, splatters against the steps. She has done something to herself, Leylas realises in the same moment the guards do, something that is working fast to kill her, bleed her out right here in the Bastion, right at her feet. Leylas snarls, pushes to standing - only to stop at the assassin’s croaked words.

‘We know about her,’ the woman hisses in Undercommon, too harsh to ever pass for a native of Rosohna, each word drenched in hatred. ‘We know about your wife. An Empire girl. A human. Thought you hated our kind,’ she cackles.

Leylas has no retort. No answer. She stares down into eyes that begin to bleed, and has no retaliation to this. On the outskirts of her fixed attention, hands move - her clerics hurry to stem the bleeding, fix what has been hurt. Leylas pays them no mind. They’re too late. This woman is dying. Why is she tell her this? It’s certainly not a warning. A bluff? 

‘So be it,’ Leylas says. She doesn’t shrug - such a gesture does not befit the Bright Queen - but merely tilts her head dismissively. It is sweet, to see all the rage and the bitterness and the disappointment in the assassin’s eyes as she dies, thinking that Leylas cares not a bit for what she said. 

The pool of red has spread. It drips, in the silence of the court, down step after step, plinking in weighty droplets in a slow-moving cascade. It has soaked her boots and the hem of her cloak, Leylas notes as she glowers down at the dead woman. 

‘Your Majesty?’

‘Taskhand.’

‘What -’

‘Have the Grave Wardens call her back. Interrogate her if they can. Then dispose of her.’ Leylas lifts a finger when the Taskhand begins to turn away. He pauses. ‘Carefully.’

‘Your will, umavi.’

‘And Nozir?’

‘Majesty?’

Leylas lifts her eyes finally to where Beauregard had been last - leant against the throne. She isn’t surprised to find that the woman is bent over the would-be-assassin now, less than four feet out of Leylas’s reach. Leylas flicks her eyes to Nozir, nods meaningfully.

He has no love for humans; has lost a love and a life of his own to the Empire and their consuming greed. He nods back to her anyway, not far off a bow, and departs to alert the Grave Wardens of their expected guest. 

‘What was that about?’

Beauregard. Of course she would not have missed the exchange. 

‘Taskhand Nozir is arranging for the interrogation of -’

‘After that.’ Beauregard has the nerve to cut her off. ‘The super secret nod.’

Leylas nods to the clerics, who have given up their attempts at bringing the assassin back by means short of a resurrection, and to the guards who lift and carry the body and its chains away. 

‘I’m just going to follow you,’ Beauregard warns her when Leylas turns toward her antechamber, and despite the scene they had just witness, she grins when Leylas levels a stern look her way. 

‘Of course you will.’

Beauregard follows her into the antechamber. Steps right up behind her and dares to lift the mantle of her cloak from her shoulders without asking, without warning. Leylas doesn’t flinch. It may look like a flinch to the other woman, it must because Beauregard gentles, unties the binds with careful, slow fingers, shows her motions long before she follows through on them. 

It is not a flinch. 

There was a moment when Beauregard was close that Leylas wanted nothing more than to take her in her arms and pull her close; there was a moment when that would have been allowed, would have been expected. There was a moment when the removal of her cloak would have been nothing but a lingering, putting off the embrace because she could, because she enjoyed pushing Leylas’s buttons. But this version of her doesn’t know these things, this version of her hasn’t experienced the way a dozen lifetimes of love can roar through her, burn every other thought out of her mind. And so when Leylas moved to embrace her without thought, she came up against her own control - forced herself to stop. 

Beauregard drapes the stained cloak over the barren desk. 

‘I know a way of getting stains out of stuff.’ She touches the soft white, grimaces. ‘I can give it a go, if you want.’

Leylas remains perfectly still save for dark eyes that track the woman across the room. ‘Taskhand Nozir will assign a guard for you and for your friends while you are in Rosohna.’

‘You’ll need a whole tub of vinegar probably,’ Beauregard continues as though she hadn’t heard. ‘Cold water. Then the harshest soap around, the kind that lathers.’

‘You will not try to dodge the guard or leave them behind.’

‘I will.’

‘You will not,’ Leylas snaps, and she feels something click in her jaw when she clenches her mouth shut hard at the sheer obstinance on Beauregard’s face. ‘This is for your protection - ‘

‘We’re on the Empire’s shit list already. We can handle -’

‘You are not yet a target for being the Queen’s Consort!’

‘Mighty big assumption there.’

‘They won’t care if you have been through amnesis. They won’t care if you remember, Beauregard - ’

‘It’s Beau,’ she snaps, finally dropping the half-amused, half-challenging expression. ‘Beau. Not fucking Beauregard.’

Leylas lets a harsh breath out her nose. ‘Beau,’ she agrees. Feels the familiarity of the name prickle over her tongue - she’s not allowed this, not yet, she can’t have this until Beau gives it to her, she doesn’t want it if she doesn’t get more later - and quashes the flurry of questions that rise in her mind about this woman, her dislike for her name, everything that Leylas has missed of this life that she desperately wishes to know. ‘They won’t care if you accept who you were. They don’t care about you.’

‘Seems familiar,’ Beau grumbles.

‘They care about how I feel for you. And you must understand - they will do anything they can to harm me. If you walk unguarded, you make yourself a target. With a bow atop your head.’

‘Nah. The bo’s on my back,’ she laughs, gratingly, harsh, and so obviously amused with her own joke that Leylas squeezes her eyes shut and hates the tiny smile that pushes up one corner of her mouth. ‘I don’t need the protection. We don’t need it.’

‘Beau -’

‘But fine. I’ll take ‘em now.’

Leylas blinks her eyes open, surprised. ‘What?’

‘I said I’ll take ‘em. I’m not stupid,’ Beau tells her forcefully. ‘I understand. You make a good point.’

‘I am the Queen.’

‘What’s a Queen without her Captain?’ 

‘Sad.’

Beau blinks. Drops her gaze to the floor. She clears her throat, pulls the conversation back to safer ground. ‘I get it. I’m a target if anyone knows. If.’

‘We can’t risk -’

‘That they didn’t get word out somehow,’ Beau agrees with a jerk of her head. ‘Yeah. I figured.’ She drags a hand through her hair, the other propped on her hip. 

It’s such a purposeful show, her posture, seemingly so lazy, so arrogantly open as if in challenge for someone to try and strike her, but Leylas can read the readiness in every line of her. 

How very different she is from her past lives. How very similar. 

‘We’ll talk about it. Me and the Nein.’

‘That is...all that I can ask of you. And that you stay vigilant.’

‘Always.’

‘Very well.’

Beau is silent a moment. Then, ‘You want me to clean this cloak for you or what?’

Leylas frowns. Waves a hand. The red dries to brown and flakes into nothing, sifts into the air and away from the cloak, leaving it as pristine as before. The other woman looks impressed - and some other expression Leylas can’t quite place. 

‘Right. That’s a no.’ Beau gives her an awkward nod - not the slightest attempt at a bow, so arrogant this life is - and steps out from the antechamber without a look back. There is the shift of metal on stone as guards fall into step beside her, which fade as Beau takes her leave. 

Leylas wipes at her face when the door is closed. Ice cold sweat has beaded just at her hairline and she dabs it away. The urge to follow, the urge to see that Beau makes it back to her house safe - the urge to keep her here, at Leylas’s side, in her chambers, to not let her leave the Bastion at all - is intense, strangles her throat until her breath comes shallow and sharp, stabs into her lungs. She twists, half-collapses with braced arms against the desk and the soft cloak Beau had carried with such admiration. Digs her fingers into it and breathes. Again. And again until the moment passes. 

She will have Nozir double the scrying upon the guest house. And invite Beau - and her Mighty Nein - to the Bastion in the morning to discuss matters. Not just to assure herself of Beau’s continued existence.