#peyford

[pyrereader-blog]

It’s been 2 months! Sorry, we’ve been very busy lately but we’re still working on this fic! Slowly but surely! I also remember about the giveaway and will get to that second request soon, I swear. It’s already more or less sketched :’)

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New chapter! Every time I feel like a chapter is going to be too short it ends up being 10 pages long :_D

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Oh yeah, I almost forgot. We actually do have a new chapter out and all!

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Lineart I did as a reference for the fanfic that we’re writing. I’m planning on coloring this but I’m still undecided on which color palettes to use for some of the characters.

So... from left to right: Sir Tidemont, Peyford, Xaxiana, Reader, Manley and Avrec.

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This is a deleted scene for the new chapter of our Pyre fic: A Flower in the Flame which is a story on which we have been working since March this year and we’re at more than 70,000 words by now.

I thought that this would have looked very out of character/tone but still liked this scene so I drew it.

If you’re interested in reading this fic you can find the first chapter here

And for those of you who are already following us (thanks!) you can read the new one here

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Chapter 21: Homecoming. Finally getting out of the woods, for better or worse.

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And at 48429 words we’re now the longest Pyre fic in that page. For whatever it’s worth...

Yay...!

[pyrereader-blog]

Thrash Pack

The next morning, the Reader rises early and slips out into the common-room of the blackwagon before anyone else in the triumvirate is awake. There she takes a seat at the table and picks up the Book of Rites, quickly burying her nose within its pages. She was curious about what Peyford might have alluded to last night, saying that the triumvirates were formed by the Scribes as if that fact had some sort of relation to her. She gets to work skimming the first pages of each chapter of the book. Since they’re so conveniently color coded she feels like it would be a waste to not make use of the book’s intuitive layout to speed up her research.

A little while later she comes across a chapter dedicated specifically to describing the triumvirates. She is surprised to find that it is written by Ha’ub the Swallow, the imp Scribe. After hearing about his legends in the Commonwealth she had been a bit perplexed to find that the imps of the Downside were such simple creatures. It appears that Ha’ub might have been an exception rather than the rule. Putting that aside, she quickly flips through the chapter, passing over the other triumvirates until she finds the page about the Chastity, alongside a beautifully drawn rendition of the triumvirate’s sigil. Apparently this triumvirate was formed by Lu Sclorian Hundred-Minds, the Scholar. Seeing that name immediately brings back memories of her father and the Reader has to take a moment to reminisce.

She remembers that he had never put much of his faith in the nomad Scribe, Gol Golathanian, as was custom among other nomads in the Commonwealth, and that under his tutelage she had instead learnt about the virtues of Lu Sclorian, to hold his wisdom and peaceful nature as great ideals to strive for. The Reader sighs at the thought... she may have been exiled, but it seems like her exile might have brought her just a little closer to the scholarly Scribe, and by extension, her father. It’s... a little comforting to think about. She then carries on to reading about what the triumvirate is supposed to represent. The qualities they are supposed to stand for... modesty, wisdom, integrity, and kinship...

At that moment the door to the living quarters swings open and Manley strides in, closely followed by Peyford.

“Peyford, I simply must ask you to, oh, please restate once more what you’re saying because I am having a hard time believing what I’m hearing.”

The Reader rolls her eyes. “And there he is, the embodiment of such qualities...” She mutters under her breath.

The sap is all smiles as usual, though the way he is rubbing his thumb and index finger together indicates that he is holding back more than a little bit of frustration.

“Manley.” Peyford replies. “I know that you can hear me perfectly well, and I believe we should make an attempt to be at the Ridge of Gol tonight. The Reader surveyed the stars in an incredibly skillful manner and I believe we would be best served heeding her advice.”

“Hmph- I cannot believe that you put so much stock in the girl after a single reading. We should continue to go by my instructions until she’s proven that hers are at least as reliable as mine.”

The sap is looking less composed by the minute, and Peyford glances towards the Reader as if asking for support. However, instead of responding, she simply raises the book to shield herself from being addressed. After last night she is not even considering having a conversation with Manley. Instead, she’d rather that the two of them argue it out among themselves.

Eventually, Peyford manages to sway Manley. He points out that while the sap expects the next Rite to be few days from now, the Reader instead predicts they should be at the ridge this night. That means that if they hurry they could check out both the Reader and Manley’s locations at each of their proposed times. He also notes that if the Reader’s take is accurate, then this is a good chance to verify her abilities. While Manley does not seem happy about it, he finally relents and orders a course towards the Ridge of Gol.

The trip there is uneventful, and while Peyford is scurrying about the wagon, cleaning up cobwebs, the Reader decides to spend the time leafing through the first chapter of the book. It tells the story of the last emperor of the fallen Empire of Sahr, Soliam Murr. She is certain that she has heard some variations of the fall and redemption of Murr in the past, either told as folk-tales or in some book her father read to her during her childhood. Still, she’s fascinated to see the book itself corroborate things from the stories such as the emperor turning into a demon and being saved by an imp. These fanciful details had always felt a bit like something out of a children’s story rather than a historic account, but they become hard to deny when read from a book supposedly penned by the Scribes themselves. Her musings are abruptly brought to a halt as the wagon shudders to a stop and Xaxiana calls out that they’ve arrived. Peyford quickly makes his way out of the wagon while Manley saunters out behind him. All three of them are already dressed in their raiments, save for the masks.

The Reader curiously follows them outside to watch them set up before the Rite. Peyford and Xaxiana grab a heavy-looking sigil from the back of the cart, the design matching the icon representing the Chastity which she had seen in the book. While they haul it into the Rite field under Manley’s supervision, the Reader surveys the surroundings. Sadly, she finds little other than rocks and dust, no sign of another triumvirate. This fact slowly starts to worry her, as she wonders if perhaps she did not read the stars as accurately as she thought. Soon the light begins to fade, and the darker it gets the more annoyed Manley seems to become, a fact which he is very diligent in sharing with the rest of the triumvirate.

“They’re not here yet.” He comments for what might be the twentieth time, shooting an annoyed glare in the Reader’s direction. She avoids his gaze, looking up to the sky to seek new guidance in the stars. It is then when she notices that all the stars of the Scribes have aligned, drawing the shape of the Scribe Star just as depicted in the book. She opens her mouth slightly in awe at the phenomenon above them, unlike anything she had seen in the Commonwealth before. However, the magic of that moment is suddenly broken by a loud howl from a nearby hill. Everyone’s heads snap around to find the source of the sound, and the sight almost makes the Reader duck behind her triumvirate. At the top of said hill are six curs, all dressed in menacing black and orange raiments, howling in unison as they start rushing down the slope in a loose formation. As they get closer the howling stops, only to be replaced by a constant cackling and hollering as three curs break off from the pack and take up a spot where they can watch the Rite.

Manley grunts in disgust at the sight, suddenly appearing more on guard than usual. For some reason he keeps occasionally looking over his shoulders or shifting his legs uncomfortably. The Reader leans in towards Peyford to quietly ask him what’s going on and why is Manley so on edge.

He responds in a low voice. “Oh, the leader of the triumvirate we are facing... Barker Ashpaws of the Dissidents has a tendency to... I believe the saying is he ‘pisses off’ the upper class.” At that, Xaxiana bursts into laughter, as if she just remembered something really funny.

The Reader raises an eyebrow, and is about to ask for clarification when she is interrupted by the remaining three curs dashing down onto the field, kicking up clouds of dust as they swerve at the bottom of the hill. Two of them haphazardly toss down the sigil they had been carrying on the opposite end of the field, while the third one approaches Manley and his cohort and hops up onto a rock to address them.

“Well I’ll be right buggered if it aint the Chastity! Since when are you lot ever on time for a Rite?!”

The loud cur claws at his mask for a few moments before throwing it down to his feet and putting his paw up on it. The Reader takes a moment to process the appearance of the cur, not quite sure what to make of him. His fur is completely black, and his eyes appear to be red in the dim light. His torn ears feature several piercings, his collar is adorned with spikes and a pair of metal skulls, and topping it all off, quite literally, is a bright red mohawk running from the top of his head down to his neck. It is all... incredibly bizarre.

After checking his robes again for some reason, Manley initiates his characteristic pleasantries with the cur while Peyford and Xaxiana go to take up their positions for the Rite. The Reader almost gets the sense that they are trying to avoid engaging with the cur for too long, and she remains a few paces back from the entire affair. However, after a short back and forth, Manley waves her over, and she begrudgingly approaches.

“Now, Barker, I simply must introduce you to the newest addition to the Chastity, which I am sure will guarantee our triumvirate’s bright, bright future. This is, our reader.”

The sap gestures at the Reader and she narrows her eyes at him in return, although the sap skillfully ignores the look. It is incredibly annoying to her how he keeps referring to her as an accessory to the triumvirate, rather than as a full member and a person. Well, no reason she should act badly to another triumvirate leader just because of that. Manley being rude is nothing new and maybe the cur’s appearance is deceiving. She bows slightly to Barker, assuming that a leader deserves at least some level of respect.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, mister Ashpaws.”

There is a moment of silence. The cur does not answer, though his mouth, which had up until this point been constantly open in a mocking grin, is closed as he examines her. Then, he bursts into a hysterical laughing fit.

“Bwaaahahahahah! Didja hear that fellas? What a polite little thing! Oy Manley, how’d you disguise yer sapling to behave like a nomad, ahaha!”

The Reader lowers her eyes, instantly regretting everything. Certainly, she knew how to deal with the veiled insults and insinuations of the upper class. This open mockery however, does not leave her with much of any recourse at all, other than sheepish silence.

“‘Ey fellas! You lot better call me ‘miiister Ashpaaws’ from now on eh?” Barker shrilly imitates the Reader’s voice, getting a laugh from his triumvirate in return. “If them fancy-pants can get respect without deserving it then why not me too? Gahah!”

Finally, Manley snaps back, seemingly more frustrated by the jab at his social standing than by the mockery of the Reader. “Bah! How utterly, utterly insolent! You common rabble cannot even comprehend what is at stake in the Rites, can you?! We would all be far better served by you standing aside and simply letting the Chastity prevail. Or perhaps we should continue this pointless mockery until the morning comes, mhm?”

Barker and his crew let out another howling laugh as the cur kicks his mask up into the air and catches it on his head. “First useful thing you said all night mate! ‘Cept we won’t be standin’ aside for no one. It’s way more fun to make Commonwealth babies like yerself cry after you lose. Bahaha!”

The cur strolls back to his crew and takes up his position as the leader of the triumvirate. Manley huffs, throws on his mask and moves to his own spot in front of Peyford and Xaxiana. The Reader hurriedly gets off the field and takes up a good vantage point as the pyres ignite behind the triumvirates.

...

“Reader!”

She winces in surprise as the Voice calls out to her again. She looks up at the sky where the stars are aligning, wondering if this is going to be a regular thing.

“You now look upon the glorious Ridge of Gol! Here, the Chastity has already performed many a Rite… with far less success than they may have hoped for... This eve you shall stand against... The Dissidents! While they hunger for victory just as much as you do, you might find that they are more motivated by denying your freedom than by earning their own.”

The Reader frowns and turns her eyes back to the field where the triumvirates are waiting for the Rite to start. Now it occurs to her that she does not know where the orb comes from. Neither of the teams seem to have brought one, and she can’t recall where it came from during their vision inside the book. Thankfully, her question is soon answered, as a thin ray of light appears in the middle of the field. It quickly grows into a bright, shining pillar before a celestial orb crashes down right in between the two triumvirates.

“Begin!”

The voice calls out as the opposing teams burst into action. Although, ‘bursting’ might be too generous of a description of what the Chastity does. Manley starts slowly making his way towards the center of the field, seemingly intending to lock down the area with his aura. The Reader can tell there is no way he will be able to get in range to control the surroundings before Barker reaches the orb, and tries to get him to stop and hand initiative over to Peyford or Xaxiana instead. The sap stubbornly refuses, and she’s convinced she can hear him mentally scoff at her. This means that she can only watch as Barker runs straight past the orb, leaps over Manley, and takes out both Peyford and Xaxiana with a single well aimed aura blast. In that time, Manley has reached the center and projected his sapling to defend the orb. It serves little purpose however as another cur slides in behind him, already preparing to cast. By the time the Reader calls out for Manley to protect himself, the sap has already been banished in a flash of orange light.

The Reader puts her head in her hands as she watches the leader of the Dissidents get passed the orb and, with ample time before anyone from the Chastity returns, he has enough of an opening to do a taunting little dance before leaping backwards into the fire, cackling as he disappears into the flames.

“Barker douses the pyre, still completely lacking in respect for his betters I see!” The Voice comments.

Two dousings later and the Reader is starting to wonder how they can possibly turn the situation around. There is little to no coordination among her companions, and the two last rounds played out almost identically to the first one. This time however, after failing to control the center of the field, Manley decides to take up a defensive position, using his sapling to create a very large perimeter around the Chastity’s pyre. While the Reader agrees with this course of action, he then fails to capitalise on it in any significant way. Rather than letting his teammates move forward, he simply holds his position without accomplishing much, still refusing to cease his movements so that his teammates can advance and mount an offensive. The Dissidents on the other hand immediately capitalise on this defensive play, taking the opportunity to move their entire team forward before rapidly passing initiative back and forth between themselves and taking haphazard shots at the sap. Peyford and Xaxiana repeatedly get caught in the crossfire but Manley’s aura is enough on its own to keep the curs away from their pyre.

Of course, the sap can not hold out forever, and ultimately a stray aura blast banishes him despite the Reader’s attempts to give him accurate information about the curs’ movements. That moment however is when something surprising happens. At the exact moment Manley is banished, Xaxiana returns from her own banishment. The harp immediately capitalises on an opening, and with a furious shriek she charges straight through Barker and grabs the celestial orb. After a dash and a short flight she then plunges into the Dissident’s pyre, scoring their first blow.

“And at last, someone from the Chastity musters the courage to douse the opposing pyre.” The Voice remarks dryly as the teams get back into position and the Reader tries to once more convince Manley to let someone else act once he has his perimeter set up. She is met with no response as the next round starts.

The rest of the Rite is a long drawn out affair. The Reader feels like she is learning a lot about the capabilities of her triumvirate, but she is having issues putting any of the things she learns into action, as the three of them are either holding each other back, or not listening to her advice as is the case with Xaxiana. Ultimately it is all for naught. While they can play defense for a long time, the Chastity cannot hold the Dissidents off while also mounting an offensive of their own. Several rounds later and the Reader lets out a despaired groan as she watches one of the curs dive into the flame, finally snuffing out their pyre.

“And there it is, at last.” The Voice remarks. “The Dissidents stand victorious. And rather convincingly so, I must say. They have proved their worth, and will go on to further glory in the Rites. Now, I bid you farewell, Reader.”

...

The Reader slumps to the ground, exhausted, as her triumvirate joins her. However, she quickly gets a hold of herself as she sees Barker and the Dissidents approach.

“Oi Manley! Didn’t ya say you wanted us to stand aside eh? Sure didn’t think that meant you lot were just gonna step aside and let us dance into yer pyre! Bahahaha!” The Dissidents cackle loudly at the joke.

“Bah! This is an utter outrage I say!” Manley huffs as he throws his mask to the ground. As it hits the ground, one of the Dissidents darts forward, snatching the mask up in their teeth before putting it on and hopping up on a rock where everyone can see them.

“Oi Barker! Check this out.” The Reader immediately covers her face, seeing where this is going. The cur continues with a haughty tone, which is a decent approximation to Manley’s voice. “Good evening miiiiiister Ashpaaaws, I’m Manstick Babblestuff and I neeeever shut up. Please just give up and let me wiiiin. Hoooooooh.”

All the curs join into a raucous laugh, and the Reader buries her face further into her hands. She knows that this whole thing is going to reflect back onto her, and she really does not need more of Manley’s anger tonight. Finally, the taunting cur drops his mask and they all run off. After they’ve gone, the Reader bends down and grabs the mask, quietly handing it to its owner. Manley snatches it from her hands and huffs.

“I hope you’re aware of the deep, deep embarrassment I had to suffer through because of you!”

The Reader does not say anything in return. She’s being gnawed by the feeling that she could have done more to help in the Rite, even though she feels that Manley had been making everything far more difficult than it had to be. The sap continues complaining into the air, making sure the entire triumvirate knows exactly how displeased he is as he walks back towards the wagon. The Reader is starting to wonder if she should bother following him. After all, she is not feeling particularly wanted at the moment. Then, a hand is placed on her shoulder, and she looks back to see Peyford offering some comfort.

The Reader sighs. “I don’t understand...I tried to do my best...I’d worked out a simple strategy… but... I don’t even know if you have a strategy of your own, at least none that you told me about. Manley just… did not seem to want any input, or let anyone else act for that matter.”

Peyford snorts. “Pff. We’ve never had a strategy, Reader. Unless you count Manley offering empty promises from the Commonwealth in exchange for the triumvirates to stand aside as a strategy. Of course, no one would exchange a chance at freedom from the Downside for something immaterial in the Commonwealth. Really, it’s gotten to the point where no triumvirate even listens to him. And, if it is some comfort, from my perspective this Rite wasn’t that bad...the closest we’ve ever been to winning against the Dissidents was when Manley almost bored them to death. I believe that is how they came up with the strategy they used to banish him today.”

“I see… still, I am not really looking forward to going back to the wagon and facing him. It feels like I am entirely to blame for the loss in his eyes.”

Peyford pats her back. “Don’t get discouraged, Reader. This is simply a different flavour of his usual complaints, we’ve heard something similar after every Rite we’ve conducted.” He smiles faintly. “Now let’s go back and focus on the next step of our journey.”

The Reader smiles back weakly and nods.

[pyrereader-blog]

Prejudices about the prideful

(Part 1) (Part 3)

It had been less than two days since the Reader had been picked up by the odd group calling themselves the Chastity. The wagon was already on the move to a place that they referred to as Hollowroot while her head was swimming with impressions, thoughts, and musings on her odd situation. First off, and certainly the oddest, her ability as a reader was suddenly something which was valued. The very skill which had gotten her exiled from the Commonwealth had now seemingly earned her a spot in the very tradition which might take her right back home. This leads her mind to the second thing of interest, the Rites. Supposedly a tradition of mystical competition that was responsible for filling most every high seat of office in the Commonwealth government. Suddenly, the hushed rumours that the most powerful people in the lands were former exiles did not seem quite so absurd any more.

Speaking of exiles… the Reader’s eyes drifted around the wagon to observe her new company, regarding them each in turn as she ponders her first impressions of each of them.

First off, there was Peyford. His entire appearance, demeanour, and stature spoke of someone who came from the upper layers of the Commonwealth aristocracy. While they hadn’t exchanged many words aside from a brief introduction, the Reader felt that he might be the most sensible and level-headed out of the three. For some reason she also couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a bit suspicious about her, though she couldn’t yet tell why. As she kept observing him, he looked up as well, meeting her gaze.

Their eye-contact was abruptly cut short by a more imminent sense of danger, heralded by a frustrated shriek and a box being kicked across the wagon’s cramped interior, passing right between the two of them.

“Blasted mess! I ought to gut every one of you lazy clods!”

The commotion in question originated from the second inhabitant of the wagon, a furious harp who was at that moment spitting metaphorical fire after having tripped on the box which was now lodged firmly in between some shelves on the opposite wall. Xaxiana was the person in the wagon who was clearly the most prone to loud outbursts of emotions and opinions. Yet, paradoxically enough, it seemed impossible for the Reader to get a sense of what the harp was actually feeling. She’d always believed that she had a very strong sense of intuition when it came to people’s thoughts, yet Xaxiana’s feelings appeared completely locked off from her. It was… a little unsettling to be fair, and wasn’t helping her impression of the clearly unstable former Highwing. The Reader took a mental note about tidying up the wagon to perhaps minimize future violent outbursts.

“Now, now, this noise must be highly unpleasant to our newest member, Xaxiana dear. Do try to contain yourself hmm?”

And then of course, there was him. The haughty sap who seemingly thought his personal introduction was more important than immediately helping a dehydrated woman on the brink of death. If Peyford gave off a strong sense of being a noble, then H. Manley Tinderstauf positively reeked of the corruption and grandstanding which the Reader had become all too familiar with during her lifetime in the Commonwealth. Thinking more about it... it’s not just his arrogant demeanor that’s familiar. The name Tinderstauf... it actually rings a bit of a bell.

“Excuse me, sir Tinderstauf?”

The Reader tenderly raises her voice, attempting to catch the sap’s attention. Luckily, he is close enough to hear her, and he turns his head towards her with an attentive look.

“Yes, my lady? How can I help you?”

It takes a moment for the Reader to gather her thoughts, formulating her question in a way so that it wouldn’t offend.

“It’s just... I had been thinking, ever since you introduced yourself there’s been this thought on my mind, and I was hoping you could help me settle it. I recall hearing the name Tinderstauf in the Commonwealth. See, there was this old rumour of an ambassador who got exiled some decades ago and I was wondering if perchance you knew of him or...?”

Her question is interrupted as the wagon suddenly shudders to a halt. The Reader then notices a tense silence filling the air and starts fearing that it might not be appropriate among exiles to inquire about ones past in the Commonwealth. She hears some rustling and turns her head to see Peyford and Xaxiana hurriedly leaving the wagon. The next moment she looks back at Manley who is staring at her with this expression as if she just paid him the greatest compliment possible.

“Ooooh, so my reputation still lingers in the Commonwealth after so many years. Oh but my dear lady, I absolutely have to tell you the entire story, as I am sure someone of your cultured nature will appreciate such a tale of intrigue and-”

Two hours later, the Reader wonders if perhaps engaging Manley about his past was a mistake, as the sap’s monologue has yet to show any sign of stopping.

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From Rags to Rites

The next day, the blackwagon is rolling along across the Downside Prairie and the Reader is caught up in her own thoughts again.

After the Rite, before heading back to the wagon, the Reader had looked up at the stars and once more gotten a vision, this time pointing them towards Jomuer, the dusk star. Peyford had noted with some amusement that that is the location Manley had predicted they should have headed towards to begin with. Rather than bringing this fact up and souring the sap’s mood further, they had simply decided to continue on as planned, and thus were now headed towards the Spring of Jomuer, ostensibly under Manley’s directions.

Now, In order to avoid further confrontation with the leader of the Chastity, the Reader has decided to engross herself further in the Book of Rites. After getting back on the road, she still could not let go of the feeling that there is more she could have done to help in the last Rite, and perhaps the book might contain some useful insights. More than its written contents, what catches her attention this time is the book’s clearly mystical nature. The Reader had already noticed that the book’s bindings were highly unusual, and she now extends her investigation to its pages, the way it was written, and its curious lack of wear despite its age. Indeed, at times it seems to be exuding a power which threatens to overwhelm her senses. Suddenly, there is a flash of inspiration. She cannot tell if it comes from herself or from within the very book she is holding, yet there it is. It suddenly seems so obvious. If the book has an inherent power, then she has a feeling that perhaps she can actually have some small influence on the Rite itself, as a reader with the book, through the presence of her own mind.

She thoughtfully closes the book right as the wagon suddenly stops and Xaxiana calls out from the roof.

“There’s something… no wait, someone, on the road! Looks like they’re dead...Perhaps we should grab their stuff?”

The Reader shakes her head, not sure if she heard the harp right at first. Though the question seems consistent with what she’s seen of the harp’s callous nature so far. As she ponders, Manley, who was reclining on a chair against a wall, presumably sleeping, moves his hand dismissively.

“What a terrible, terrible shame.” He replies. “Well, let’s just go around it. We’ve got somewhere to be and there’s no time for detours.”

The Reader, bothered by the implication that no one is going to move a finger for that person, stands up.

“Wait! Are we really going to leave someone who might be in need of help? We should at least get out and check if they’re actually alive.”

It is then that Peyford, who has been silent this whole time, heads towards the wagon’s exit door. As he leaves he comments over his shoulder.

“Indeed, it warrants a closer look. And if there is nothing to be done we can at least move them off the path.”

He is quickly followed by the Reader as he exits the wagon, and a moment later she hears a grumbling Manley following suit as well as Xaxiana hopping off the wagon roof to join them. The first thing that strikes the Reader as they head out is the sudden change in climate. Rather than the temperate weather of the Prairie, the sun is now blazing down on them, seemingly welcoming the triumvirate to the area known as Jomuer valley. She shields her eyes from the sun and looks towards the road, quickly spotting the prone figure in front of their cart.

As the group approaches, with Peyford in front, the figure slowly lifts his head, immediately disproving Xaxiana’s assertion that they were dead. It appears to be a ragged, unshaven man who’s apparently been out in the desert for a while. As his eyes fall upon the triumvirate before him, they widen and he suddenly scampers up onto his hands and knees, hurrying over to them and cupping his hands in front of him.

“Oh, ooh good people. Can you please spare a few sol for a poor soul? You see, I ended up wandering into the valley by mistake and- terrible mistake that was, thought I wouldn’t make it y’see? But it must’a been fate you see? I ended up meeting people as well-off as yourselfs who surely could at least gimme a lift outta this blazing valley in that fancy wagon of yours and...”

The beggar, and that is obviously what he is by now, keeps talking, effusively praising the triumvirate’s looks and repeatedly asserting how some rich people such as them surely must show some generosity to him as they most likely have enough to spare. As he talks, Peyford glances back over his shoulder at the rest of the triumvirate, raising an eyebrow. Manley scoffs in return, deliberately averting his eyes from the dirty man in front of them. Then the Reader overhears Xaxiana mutter to the sap.

“If we’re really in a hurry, I could just end his suffering and we’ll be on our way.” She leaves no room for doubt as to what she means by flexing her talons in the sand, making an ominous crunching sound.

The Reader balks at this, turning around to face the two of them while blurting out a hushed protest. “What are you talking about? You can’t just get rid of him for being in the way?!” To the Reader, this situation seems disturbingly similar to how they had found her only a few weeks ago. And that suggestion seems vaguely familiar. “So what? If I had not had the mark of a reader you would have simply murdered me?” Her accusing stare is avoided by Manley and met dead on by Xaxiana, leading to a short staring contest between the two of them. Though, unsettled by the harp’s intense eyes, she quickly turns back to Manley, addressing him directly, but still quietly. “My life is in no way worth more than this person’s, and I feel he should be treated with the same respect I was.”

At this point Manley takes a step forward and puts a spindly arm around the Reader’s shoulder, quietly leading her a couple steps away from the group. Seemingly this is unnoticed by the beggar who seems busy praising the small yet ornate badge pinned to Peyford’s collar.

“Now, Reader dear, it’s not that I disagree with you. On the contrary, your point of view is indeed, very, very admirable.” The Reader can sense the flattery is about to run out in favour of getting to the point. “It’s simply that, the Chastity does have some standards. Regrettably, it’s not as if we could pick up any fool we come across. You understand, hmm?”

Before she can stop herself, the Reader mutters under her breath “yet here you are…” followed by her immediately tensing up, hoping that Manley didn’t hear her. However, a brief tightening of Manley’s grip on her shoulder signals that he probably did indeed hear the jab. He continues speaking, the corners of his smile twitching as he tries to retain his composure.

“Oh but well! I suppooose those standards have been plummeting as of late, right around the time we took on our last member, mhm? After all, dear Reader, our latest addition has only lead us to more failure and hasn’t even proven themselves to be worth anything, have they?~” The sap’s usual arrogant smile becomes more secure as he watches the Reader grow red with embarrassment and anger, showing that his comment hit home. Without saying another word she pulls herself loose from his arm and walks back over to the group.

By now the beggar seems to have just made himself comfortable on the ground in front of Peyford, sitting cross-legged and holding a one-sided conversation with the stoic nomad, though he turns his head as the Reader approaches.

“Heyah lass. He’s not much of a talker eh? Can’t even tell me if he’s got any change, ahah!” He lets out a guffaw as the Reader clears her throat.

“Well, as a matter of fact…” She slowly starts explaining. “Though we can’t necessarily spare our sol right now… We’d be willing to offer you some food, drink, and shelter for a while if you don’t mind travelling along to where we’re heade-”

Her offer is suddenly interrupted by the beggar springing to his feet and catching her in an unrequested and highly uncomfortable hug, accompanied by a loud overacted kiss on her cheek.

“Scribes bless you lass! Name’s Avrec, lovely to meet ya! You won’t regret this decision at all!” He then scurries right past her into the wagon, likely to raid their stores of food and drink.

The Reader, still frozen from the sudden unexpected invasion of her personal space mutters to herself “I already regret it…”

As she stands there and tries to recover, the rest of the triumvirate head back into the wagon. Peyford and Xaxiana seem slightly entertained by the display, while Manley pats her on the shoulder and comments.

“Well well, it appears that when you pick up beggars from the road you don’t get people who share my gentlemanly nature, hah.”

The Reader sighs heavily and reluctantly turns back towards the wagon as she hears Avrec call from inside. “Hey, where do you folks keep the booze?!”

[pyrereader-blog]

Featuring the outcome regarding what happened to the Reader after the Rite against the Withdrawn.

[pyrereader-blog]

Reading expectations

(Part 2) (Part 4)

What should one think after experiencing a person orate about their past for the better part of two hours? Perhaps one might reconsider ever striking up conversation with that person again, or at least make a note to interrupt them if they ever seem to be about to start monologuing. The Reader of the Chastity was doing neither of these things as she stepped out of the blackwagon parked outside of the small exile settlement known as Hollowroot. Instead, she was busy reflecting on the conversation she had just been part of. Well, calling it a conversation is probably a misnomer, as it was definitely one-sided, but still. She had been surprised by how excited Tinderstauf had been by the idea that someone from the Commonwealth was familiar with him, so excited in fact that she had not had the heart to elaborate on his reputation as a charlatan and a disgrace to his family. The Reader was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost walked right into the pair of Xaxiana and Peyford who had been idling outside the wagon while waiting for her and Manley to finish their talk.

“Good to see you’re still with us.” Peyford comments. “It would have been a shame if he’d bored you to death so soon after picking you up. Real waste of effort.”

The Reader notes that his tone seems to be that of making a joke, and it’s shortly followed by a short cackle from Xaxiana. If the laugh was provoked by the jab at Manley or by the suggestion that the Reader might have died, she could not tell. The Reader was about to object that she actually appreciated the insight about one of her companions’ past, but before she could get the words out she was interrupted by Manley’s voice from behind her.

“Oh how lovely that we’re all in such a good mood today.” He puts his hand around the Reader’s shoulder, leading her along into Hollowroot as he continues speaking. “Now my dear Reader, I had word sent ahead that we would be receiving a new member and had them procure some rather expensive goods for us. Money is no issue, you see, and you deserve something far greater than this… ragged thing.” He briefly sneers at the worn cloak she is wearing, generously provided by the Commonwealth during her sentencing ceremony.

The rest of the day passes in a sort of blur as the Reader is whisked around the exile settlement by Manley and his crew. One moment they are picking up an ornately wrapped package from an odd slug-like creature, the next they are having a new cloak tailored and getting her ordinary clothes patched up by a kindly old cur who appears slightly taken aback by the luxurious material Manley brought for her to work with. Later in the day the Reader finds herself in the custody of a surly bog crone who cleans up her hair with various odd but pleasant-smelling concoctions, all the while muttering under her breath about vanity among exiles. Not once during these proceedings does Manley stop talking. When they are in a shop, he goes on about his wealth and how money is no object to him. When they are passing between locations he keeps lavishing the Reader with praise about how important of an addition she is going to be to the team.

While she can tolerate the sap’s constantly running mouth, the subjects of discussion are starting to worry her on some level. Most worrying is the apparent value that the sap is placing on her skills. She hasn’t read for years now, she cannot even be sure that she’d recognize the language if she was suddenly handed a book and told to read it. Yet now she was apparently expected to carry this group of people to victory in a ritual competition she had never heard about before.

These things are at the forefront of her mind when the group moves to once again leave Hollowroot. Manley’s mouth still shows no sign of ceasing its endless blathering, so she decides to try and interrupt him.

“Excuse me...” She starts

“Imagine what the other triumvirates will say once they realize that the Chastity now has a dedicated reader-”

“I just wanted to...” another try,

“After all, the Chastity deserves nothing less than the very best-”

“Could you please-” she can feel her patience starting to run thin here...

“Because this! This is a new era for this triumvirate! Mark my words, you will all be rewarded when we-”

“WOULD YOU KINDLY SHUT YOUR MOUTH FOR A MINUTE!? Please?!” And she finally snaps, her brief outburst sending the entire group into a stunned silence just outside of their blackwagon. She then lets out a sudden gasp, inwardly shocked at her own outburst as well. Peyford has an eyebrow raised, Xaxiana seems to be grinning to herself, and Manley is in a mild shock at having been so rudely interrupted, his darkening expression clearly signaling that he is about to lash back at the Reader, but before that happens she asserts herself.

“Ahem! Now...” She crosses her arms and starts explaining her concerns. “So while I’m greatly appreciative of the gifts, the compliments, and the trust you are placing in me, I feel there is a detail you are all overlooking”. She looks back at them, making sure that she has their attention before continuing. “You should all know that, while it is true that I have been marked as a reader, and exiled for that reason, I have not read or seen a book in ten years or so.”

She keeps going over her uncertain reading ability, how she might not match their extraordinary expectations, and most importantly:

“Not one of you have seen fit to even vaguely describe these...Rites to me, or what I will actually be doing during them. You have not even told me what kind of material I will be reading. It might be completely possible that I won’t be able to understand the language it is written in.”

She lets out a long breath, her worry slowly setting in as she realizes how she must just have sounded. These people, despite their origins, have saved her life and been nothing but polite and kind to her. This is especially true about Manley, who is now leaning against the blackwagon with a worried expression as if he just considered the possibility that the Reader might be useless despite all his efforts. She considers approaching him to apologize for her behaviour when Peyford steps forward, while an entertained smile plays across his lips.

“Perhaps it is time we gave you some answers, though you have been pretty reticent to ask them before now, you have to admit.” He pauses to let the Reader feel a bit sheepish about this fact before continuing. “But fair is fair, let us go into the blackwagon and prepare for a demonstration. I believe it is time that you get to see...”

There’s a brief pause for dramatic effect-

“The Book of Rites.”

Behind all of them, Xaxiana rolls her eyes.

[pyrereader-blog]

New chapter out!

[pyrereader-blog]

New chapter of the fic!

[pyrereader-blog]

Chapter 10 which is coincidentally 10 pages long. We’re a bit worried the Rites chapters are too long compared to the events happening during the travels between locations, but it also feels weird to split these Rite chapters into two... We hope it’s not an inconvenience to have these alternate short and long chapters.

[pyrereader-blog]

Since we realised tumblr’s format is not the best for reading long stories, we decided we will just be posting the links to the archive from now on. Hope it is not an inconvenience to anyone.