"Good," Felix said. "I was gonna come look for you later. Come in." He gestured into his chambers and the two mages shared a look. "I have some questions that need answers."
Vess hadn't been able to sleep after she and Felix had spoken. She was left feeling restless and energized by her own outlandish behavior.
Smiling at him like that? What was I thinking? She alternated between pacing atop her fine, plush rug and sitting uneasily on her four poster bed. Something about the man always put her off balance, and the heiress still didn't know how to feel about it all. So, she had spent the majority of the morning planning.
Such a task was not something nobles of her rank would stoop to, but Vess had been without servants or aides for the better part of a year. Ever since she joined the Protector's Guild she had striven to prove to everyoneherself includedthat she could manage without the trappings of her upbringing. Arranging supplies for their entire crew as well as simple transport for the forests and ravines that dotted the Foglands was an act of rebellious autonomy that she relished.
Vess poured herself into the details. She didn't expect they would be on foot the entire time, though she tried to account for that as well. There were an uncounted number of unknown dangers in the unveiled Foglands, and it was best to attempt to cover all of the possibilities one could prepare against.
However, as the morning wore on and the sun rose higher in the cornflower blue sky, Vess realized she was also putting something off with her marathon of laborious organization. Namely, a conversation with the only man capable of knocking all her carefully laid plans awry.
As Vess stepped into the cool granite expanse of the third floor, she frowned for several reasons. The Healer's Ward always smelled of astringent solutions and a fetid undertone she refused to contemplate, but now there was something else among the scents. It was flowery and too sweet, like fruit on the edge of rot. She kept her distaste from her features, however.
Diplomacy is level 63!
There were a number of robed apprentices in the reception hall of the Ward, all of them busy pushing medical carts and taking rapid notes on reams of parchment. Vess passed them by without a word, and though she sensed confusion and even a few motes of anger in their Spirits, no one stopped her. She didn't wear her rank on his person like most nobles, but the weathered armor of a former Guilder spoke volumes.
The Ward was far larger than the ramshackle hut they'd operated out of in camp, though Portia still ran the place. She had more help now, clearly; Vess spotted at least ten other apprentice healers as she traversed the hallways. That extra help and the medical supplies they had requisitioned from the Sunrise merchants had been an almighty boon for so very many people in Haarwatch. Enough that it made Vess feel good about teaching Cal how to leverage her Authority while still keeping good relations with the greedy traders.
Vess had spent some time helping Cal settle into her new role, as her lifelong position as Duchess-in-waiting gave her a certain insight to the management of a large Territory. She had years of lectures from her father and his aides to pass on, countless hours that had been drilled into her head until she could recite them all from memory. There was much to convey, though not everything was applicable to how Cal would run her new Territory, or feasible with their current lack of...pretty much everything.
Yet Vess had chafed at the hours wasted on conversation. Every moment she wasn't helping clear the rubble and search for survivors was one that weighed upon her conscience. She had not spoken idly to Felix on the burden of power; it was a yoke she had labored under for many years. Only recently had she grown strong enough to bear it in new, different ways. Now that she could enact change with her own two hands, Vess felt it a waste to sit in throne rooms and leave the the dirty work to other people.
This visit felt much the same. She would rather be finalizing her packing or hunting down the last of the monsters in the sewers, but instead she was forced here. To see him.
Except he wasn't in his bed. The sheets were mussed and the series of tonics on his bedside table were half-drank.
The healers did not come for him, else he would have been forced to finish his tonics. No signs of a struggle, though the sheets were tossed back rather thoroughly. Vess narrowed her eyes and they filled with a tingling warmth.
Gaze of the Unseen Hunter is level 58!
She spotted a lingering smudge on the ground, where unshod feet had pressed against the cool stone. The faint heat haze strengthened as it progressed, turning to true footprints once outside the room. They were simple to follow, and even simpler to guess why he had left his bed. He was headed toward the inner courtyard.
The inner courtyard was a very small gardena mere hundred strides across and twice that in lengthand one populated more by dirt than greenery. The area had only been sparsely planted, it's priority lagging behind the care of the city's citizenry. When Vess arrived, she could spot the lingering heat traces of her quarry, though his Spirit was a careful blank to her Affinity. She clucked her tongue and pushed forward over the shrubbery covered hills.
In the center of the garden, in an area had been tamped flat, a large man practiced his sword Forms beneath the morning sun. Vess frowned as she saw him, covered in bandages that were stained with a mixture of sweat, dirt, and some sort of oily solution. Darius Reed, Chosen Hand of the Duke of Pax'Vrell and her anointed protector moved well for a man so recently on the verge of death. His breathing seemed easy and his eyes clear, if distracted by the whirling dance of his wide, double-edged blade.
"You are supposed to be resting," Vess said suddenly. The Hand halted mid-swing and smoothly pivoted to sheath the blade at his back. Vess frowned, annoyed that he didn't even look guilty.
"Lady Dayne," he said, his baritone voice smooth despite the flash of...was that anger in his eyes? "I am merely reacquainting myself with my capabilities. I shall need my fortitude replenished if we are to make good time."
"Make good time? Where, perchance, do you think we are going?" Vess asked. If he heard about Felix's Quest, I will strangle those chatty lieutenants.
The Hand, however, tilted his head as if the answer were clear as day. "We are returning home. Your Lord Father has demanded your presence."
That stopped her cold. "What do you mean, he demanded? Are you in contact with my father?"
"No, but it was a contingency within his original orders," Darius explained. "I was to protect and aid you while you recovered from your time in the Foglands, and once you Tiered up into Journeyman you were to be brought home to rejoin his court." He said it all with a stoic, expressionless face. "Since you hit Journeyman during the...recent troubles, we only had to wait upon my convalescence.
Vess shook her head, her mouth suddenly dry. "That is impossible. There is so much work to be done here. My father"
"Does not care about this Territory. His only concern, and thus, my only concern is your well-being." The Hand shook his head and took a single step closer. "This city has proven itself more trouble than it is worth. After their defeat, the Inquisition will undoubtedly dispatch it's forces to purge the Territory. I cannot withstand what the Inviolate Order will send." He put his large, calloused hand out, palm up. "We must leave. Today."