Malek flushed, causing his friend to sigh. “I thought not. Very well, the Guildmaster will know what steps to take.”
Malek flushed at this, feeling abashed at having to call on a favor from a man he feared he had made a bad impression upon with his temper, and a favor of a nature that he, like most adventurers, tried not to dwell upon too much. For all that their organization had a long and ancient tradition of serving as a safe haven for Delvers, acting as a conduit for goods and services brought and sold as well as offering free room and board to proven adventurers, it had a darker side as well.
For the most part, the Adventurers Guild was admired by the common folk for the wondrous tales of the journeys brave adventurers embraced in exploring the wonders of Shadow, in closing rifts that could cause terrible jeopardy and peril to the world at large. Such was the vital nature of the role Delvers had once played in protecting Erovering from those horrific rifts of nightmare and darkest Shadow, and such was the power of those chosen champions that the Crown had granted their organization special charter centuries ago, assuring Delvers rights and privileges near the equal of nobles, save that of rulership itself.
Yet the Guild, home as it was to the deadliest men and women ever to walk the realms of Shadow or mundus, always had a few members more than happy to serve a darker purpose. Blackened daggers always at the ready for the sanctioned removal of unwanted pawns.
It was a profession many would consider distasteful, though compared to Delving itself, the rewards were extremely lucrative and the risk a fraction of what it might otherwise be. Contracts were only carried out for the most affluent of lords well in the king's favor, whose purposes coincided with the Guild's own. And the Royal Family was always aware that there was that final deadly option at their disposal, one that had not betrayed royal interests in centuries.
All in all, the Guild's darker nature was a topic Malek did not care to dwell upon, far happier simply to appreciate its support of those who dared the realms of dream and Shadow, and think upon it no further than that. Because in his troubled heart, Malek knew he could take to the role of blackened dagger all too well, reveling in a darkness that he feared would eventually consume him, body and soul. And it wouldn't be the first time. He had already walked a similar path as a Squire of War, what now seemed a lifetime ago.
“Don’t worry, pup. All will be well. Gregorian is an understanding sort. And the bastards were slavers, after all.” A firm hand clapped his back, even as they gently led an excited group of children into the Guildhall itself, the seneschal hardly batting an eye.
“I shall prepare one of the larger tables then, Dels Malek and Alacabar? We have meat pies aplenty despite the hour, and a hearty roast. I am sure I can find some chilled milk as well. Shall I have one of the servitors bring suitable attire?”
Alacabar grinned. “Well done, Vims. And let us get some copper baths for the pups, so they don’t stink up their new attire!”
"Of course, Del Alacabar." The seneschal bowed. "Give me but a moment to awaken several of the serving girls so that they may assist."
Malek nodded. “For tomorrow we shall find their parents, and make sure all is well.”
The man only smiled, dipping his head once more as he made his way to see to their requests.
A short time later Malek found a tiny hand squeezing his now unarmored fingers once more, once the children had stopped ogling the plates of food piled high and actually started feasting. Malek looked down at a pair of beautiful blue eyes that touched his heart, gazing fondly at Jacey happily grinning up at him, swinging her feet and humming, her other hand rubbing her belly, content at last, having devoured multiple meat pies with the same diligent efficiency as her sister.
“I love meat pies,” she said.
Malek nodded. “As does your sister.”
“I miss her,” Jacey sighed, gazing up at the finely polished hardwood beams above.
“You will see her soon, Jacey. Tomorrow, I think. But first we shall get you squared away with a hot bath, warm bed, and plenty of new clothes for you, nice and warm.”
The child’s eyes lit up with excitement, as did the others gazing up at him raptly. “We are all getting new clothes, then?”
Malek nodded solemnly. “Yes, indeed. Beautiful dresses for all of you.”
He smiled as the girls laughed wickedly and the boys pouted. “I’m teasing, of course. But new cloaks and boots I shall make sure of, at the very least. Whatever clothes you like, really.”
He felt her fragile form lean against him. "I'm sleepy," Jacey said softly.
Wordlessly, Malek picked her up, catching the knowing gaze of one of the girls so attentively caring for the children, quietly moving to take the child. “Let me help you with the dear.”
Malek smiled but shook his head. “You can show me where we are bedding them, I will take her up the stairs for you.”
Dipping her head in acknowledgment, she bade him follow and in short order all the children were washed and put in fresh clothes, the serving girls making sure none fell asleep in the tubs, and in far less time than Malek would have thought, all the children were fast asleep, tucked into a pair of spacious rooms, one of the servants assuring she would watch over them through the night. Malek nodded, squeezing the blushing woman's hand with sincerest gratitude, even as Alacabar gently tapped his arm. "I spoke to Gregorian. He already has someone tidying up loose ends, but he would like a word with you."
Malek grimaced and nodded. He took a final gentle look at the children resting in peaceful repose in the room within, a beautiful contrast to the cold wet horror of the slaver's deck, before closing the door.
Vicious and bloodthirsty a creature as he might be, a dozen children who had been destined for the most brutal and degrading of fates now slept safe and sound. He was a Squire of War as much as he was a Delver. He would not be ashamed of the bodies he had left behind. Malek could imagine his shieldsister nodding her approval, even as he prepared to face the consequences of his actions that night.
When he knocked on the Guildmaster's door, the man's voice was mellifluous, with no trace of anger that Malek could sense when he was invited in. Odd. Opening the door and closing it behind him after a reassuring nod from Alacabar, he found the Guildmaster regarding him with a gaze near as enigmatic as Eloquin's own.
"Thank you for stopping by, Del Malek. Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to one of his fine leather chairs, next to which rested an exquisitely gilded stool with a silver tray laden with several freshly prepared sandwiches stuffed with meat and cheese as well as a carafe of what looked and smelled like Calenbry cider. The finest in Erovering, as far as Malek was concerned. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Refresh yourself. I understand you've had a very interesting evening, and I would love to hear your firsthand account of what transpired before sleep claims you and memories so sharp this eve fade to hazy uncertainty."
Bemused, Malek nodded, having expected a far harsher reception in truth, almost caught off guard by the ever elegantly dressed Gregorian's calm demeanor, and what seemed more like concern than anything else.
“Excellent! And of course, most importantly before we begin, are your young charges well? Is there aught else they need? Any signs of fever that you sensed that would indicate the services of a healer might be in order? That goes for yourself as well, Malek, if you took injury of any sort.”
Malek blinked, surprised by the man's thoughtfulness. He could not read malice and deception like his shieldsister could, yet the Guildmaster's demeanor seemed one of genuine concern, no trace of fear sweat, racing heart, or any other cue indicating deception or falsehood that Malek's limited talents could detect.
"They are doing quite well, thank you for being so gracious as to ask, Guildmaster. Several of the children were shivering rather badly before we got them to the Guildhall, but hearty food, the cessation of their nightmarish ordeal, a warm bath, and the chance to sleep in some of the softest beds in the kingdom will, I hope, help them he
al and find comfort in warm memories to replace the horrors recently endured. As for myself? No worries there, sir. My body, at least, is free from injury."
Insightful eyes peered into his own before at last giving a small nod, as if Gregorian had understood exactly what Malek meant by those last words. "I am pleased indeed to hear that your charges have enjoyed our hospitality and are on the mend. Of course, I shall make sure our healer gives them a proper examination on the morrow, just to be certain all is well." He gave an approving nod at that point. "When all is said and done, dear Malek, though I might raise certain points about the nature of your methods for us both to consider, what we must keep foremost in our minds is that you managed to save a dozen innocent young children from a most dire fate indeed. For that, I salute you." Gregorian smiled, raising his glass in approval. Malek mirrored his gesture, grinning with relief, feeling as if a burdensome weight was slipping off his shoulders.
“Very good, dear Malek. And now, if you would be so kind? Let us go over the particulars, shall we?”
And with a nod free of hesitation or reservation, Malek did just that, concentrating on the telling of the tale, feeling strangely compelled by the Guildmaster's increasingly sympathetic gaze, as it seemed to coax even the most discomfiting details in the same way the best bards did. A demeanor marked by appreciation and concern, devoid of all judgment, with an encouraging nod whenever the confessor stumbled upon the confession of a particularly uncomfortable truth. Which in a way was not surprising. So many dark secrets regarding one’s inner savagery and nature came to the fore when one wandered in the realms of dream and Shadow, after all, often times acting and thinking on sheer impulse, making choices that might cause one to look askance at in the light of day, as if one were under the influence of the strongest of wines, or indeed, watching oneself in a dream in truth.
These darker truths of a Delver's nature were understood by fellow adventurers and bards alike, and never judged. The tales told around tavern fires and recorded in the bards' treasured tomes always honored the truth, of course, as per ancient oath. But those accounts tended to be written mercifully, showing those adventurers lost in the very madness of the dreams they traversed, in the best possible light.
Of course, an oddly relieved Malek, his heart feeling lighter for what amounted to a confession felt his stomach lurch at the sudden cold realization that, righteous as his actions were on the one hand, he had torn through those men. Devoured them in ways mastered only by the darkest practitioners of bloodmagics in the heat of his anger, leaving utterly desiccated corpses and piles of ash in his wake, laying about with terrible blows so devastating even demons and creatures of nightmare traversing the deepest pits of Shadow had cause to fear his blade.
The men he had ruthlessly killed hadn't had a prayer against him. Most especially not the captain he had deliberately disemboweled with the cold vindictive rage of one fully aware of his actions, clever enough even to use guile to slip free the bonds of his own given word to justify what had been a most vicious killing. Malek had not been lashing out in the heat of battle then, but rather carrying out a calculated execution. Even now he could recall the collapsing captain's death cries as he writhed in his own steaming entrails.
Malek shuddered, his guts roiling. The smell of the sandwiches that had been so tantalizing but moments ago now sickened him. He forced himself to face the memory, for all that it made him shudder.
As vile as the slaver had been, when all was said and done, how was Malek any less of a monster than he? It was a question that troubled him, and he blinked, suddenly chilled at how easily he had poured out his heart to this man who's own motives seemed shadowy at best, for all that he gazed at Malek in what seemed to be genuine sympathy. Malek grimaced. He hadn't actually intended to tell Gregorian how he had set the captain up, giving his word on a condition he knew the greedy captain would never keep, all as a pretext to run the slaver through, once Malek had separated him from his hostage, before leaving the horrified sailors to flee for their lives, knowing most wouldn't dare walk the darker paths again, having seen for themselves how savage that darkness could be when directed at them.
"Let your wrathful heart rest easy, Del Malek. What you did was a righteous thing. What I would counsel first and foremost, however, is prudence in oaths given and received. Above all else in this world where things are so rarely black and white, the one truth that keeps our honor intact and faith renewed by commoner and noble alike who would otherwise have grave cause to fear us, is that we always keep our word." His fierce grin seemed to be one of approval, and Malek was taken aback. "Contrary to what various legalists or philosophers might postulate, safe in their ivory white towers of idealistic naivete, men who have never had to face the hard reality of seeing their own loved ones with knife to throat, dealing with the horrors of corruption and betrayal, your cause was just. And you were not afraid to walk the darker path for the greater good, even as men of weaker conviction would have looked askance, preaching their own lily white morals even as they allowed vulnerable children to be kidnapped and enslaved. That is, until their own children are stolen away from them in the dead of night, in which case I can promise you it would be their shaking countenances knocking upon our doors, begging for our help, caring absolutely nothing about the dark means we employ, so long as their loved ones are brought safely home once more."
Gregorian beamed with heartfelt approval. "No, dear Malek. You chose the braver path, all the more noble for not being afraid to bear stains upon your soul for the sake of the greater good, rushing to the aid of powerless children who had no other champion willing to fight for them. Only you, who somehow heard their cries, and had the courage, the conviction, to respond. Your old master-at-arms General Eloquin would approve, I think."
Malek blinked, totally caught off guard by the Guildmaster’s approval, his heart fluttering with sudden relief, eased beyond words to find acceptance where he had feared condemnation.
The Guildmaster raised one cautionary finger. "Indeed, dear Malek, the only point of concern I have is how closely you skirted the breaking of your own oath. But rest easy. You were in fact in the right, and more than a few Guildmates would smile in wry approval as you used the man's own folly against him.
"That being said, a far greater number would shake their heads, my young Spring Delver, for how close you came to irreparable folly. For our word, once given, should be sacrosanct. Though there can be rare times where playing one's foes against their own best interest is justified, it serves us far better, far better indeed if we have a reputation for not only keeping our word, but conducting ourselves with absolute good faith in doing so, not using our oath to allow a man to stumble to his own folly, when we could just as easily have forgiven him."
Sympathetic eyes gazed solemnly into Malek's own. "In other words, dear Malek, as vile and disgraceful a creature as this slaver was, most Delvers who, like you, have the conviction to work in the Shadows for the greater good, would have simply smiled and taken the second gold coin pouch." Gregorian smiled, leaning back. "Our captain then could have boldly made note of how honorable Delvers were in regards to any oath given, choosing even to forgive a slaver his near fatal mistake, the Delver's own words shown to be worth more than gold. For I promise you, dear Malek, had you taken that path, our reputation would have only increased in darker circles, reinforcing the most important truth in all paths of society, that the Guild can always be trusted, so long as none cross our path, and even if one does so, such transgressions can be forgiven, so long as one keeps their word to us and pays us what recompense we demand.”
Gregorian took a reflective sip of his drink, gazing at Malek like a favorite student whose antics, while amusing, still necessitated the gentlest of counsel. "After all, few nobles indeed would wish to quarrel with us, but our best defense against those who would move against us, men and women who would employ the darkest members of society for their games, is if our reputation is such that few nobles feel threatened by
us, that most see us as honorable businessmen who never break faith. Useful allies, and not worth risking one's own destruction in crossing. Do my words make sense to you, dear Malek?"
Malek sighed and nodded. "Yes, actually they do. I know life isn't as black and white as I would like to fool myself into thinking it is, and far better for the shadier elements of society, and gods above know that includes any number of the more treacherous nobles, think that they can always trust us to keep our word, that we will place it on a higher pedestal than even our own ideals. For only then can they rest assured that we will keep faith with whatever accords are struck between Guild and noble, no matter how distasteful we may find their actions personally. Such assurances of stability will allow them to feel sufficiently at ease with us that we need not fear them attempting a preemptive strike against our Guildhalls."
Gregorian nodded, his expression that of a professor surprised and pleased to find a slower student had managed to grasp a difficult concept.
Malek grinned. “Fear not, Del Gregorian. Squires of War are expected to understand the nuances of strategy, and as much as my shieldsister hates to admit it, the arena of politics and intrigue is just a battlefield of a different sort. A strategist must consider all the ramifications of each of his gambits, even as the tactician who actually engages in battle must forever seize the initiative, adapting his tactics to survive every moment upon the battlefield; adaptability, and seizing the Vor at all times being what allows frontline troops to survive long enough to see the dawn of yet another day."
Gregorian dipped his head in approval. “And just as you must follow your passions to survive the madness of Shadow, so too it behooves you to let cold, disciplined reason come to the fore upon the waking world once more. I am glad to see the Squire before me is aware, at least, of the larger picture, though I am surprised to hear mention of your shieldsister. How is Jessica de Calenbry, by the way?”
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