Blood Moon Ch. 06

"Weapons?" he asked.

"No weapons." Vya'thaes said, stepping away from the two other men.

It was of no surprise to him that his meeting with Vya'thaes had led to a fight, but that didn't mean he was happy about it.

This was no professional match, and there was no signal for the fight to begin other than the glint in Jereth's eyes before he charged forward. Ren was of similar build, but the elf was taller and Vya'thaes must have told him about his ability to transform into a worgen, for it was obvious that he was trying to end things quickly.

He tried to sidestep but an arm caught him and dragged him to the ground. There was a mix of limbs, tumbling over one another, displacing grass and dirt, and then he was on top for a brief moment. He struck Jereth, bouncing his head against the ground, but a jab of the knee beneath his sternum gave the other man opportunity to reverse their positions. A hand clasped around his throat, squeezing tight, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. One of Ren's hands was pinned, but the other was free. He brought it to Jereth's chest, right above his heart, and changed.

He changed, growing larger, stronger, hairier; but it was slow, slower than usual, and he concentrated all of his efforts upon his hand, growing a sharp pair of claws that he used to tear into Jereth's chest. The man cried out, his body suddenly slack, and Ren threw him to the side, pouncing on him and slashing his throat. Quick and bloody.

Panting, he stood up, completely human again. Blood that both belonged to him and didn't belong to him clung to his clothes and his face, where a gash had caught him across the cheek. The entire fight had taken less than a minute, but it had extracted a toll he didn't want Vya'thaes to see. Setting his jaw and slowing his breathing, he looked at the councilman.

"That was a bit dirty don't you think?" Vya'thaes asked, looking down at his former bodyguard and clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

"No."

"Not surprising, but I suppose winning is winning and that's all that matters, really." Vya'thaes inspected him, his weaselly eyes doing nothing to conceal the thoughts in his head. If he attacked Ren now he'd likely win, but then he'd have to find someone else to take care of Seraphita. "All right. You've earned a second chance." He waved a hand to follow. "Come along, we will discuss things at my home."

Ren took a deep breath and followed, wiping his bloody hand upon the dragonhawk monument as he went.

Hoping to attract the least amount of attention, they entered through the garden entrance. Once they were inside, Vya'thaes led the way to his study, a great big room that smelled like oak because everything within it was made of the stuff.

He sat down behind his desk, a fake smile on his face as he addressed Ren. "It's getting late, so why don't you go ahead and tell me about what you want exactly."

Ren stood, leaning against a chair but not moving to sit down. "I want any documents you have mentioning me by name. And don't try to deny having them."

"And?"

"And I want to know who else is involved."

Vya'thaes leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, considering for a moment. "Kaerys told you things he shouldn't have, didn't he?"

Ren's head throbbed. He nodded.

"I'll give you everything you asked for, but you have to do something extra for me."

Information in exchange for more murder.

"I'm listening."

"I want you to take care of a woman by the name of Delanna Fairweather. She's one of my colleagues."

A member of the Council? He's bold, if nothing else.

"Okay."

Vya'thaes drummed his fingers against his desk. "I want it to look like an accident, or a disappearance. Maybe kill her and drop her body off near troll territory. Can you do that?"

"Sure, I can do that." He paused as if he was thinking it over, then said, "What is she? A mage?"

"Of sorts."

He resisted the urge to smack the man. "Meaning?"

"Meaning she studies all schools of magic, but specializes in arcane."

"Could be tricky."

"Could be. But I'm sure you'll manage." Vya'thaes swiveled in his chair, opening a panel in the wall behind him. There was an icebox within, and from it he took out a bottle of gin, poured himself a glass, and took a sip. He offered Ren a shot but he declined. "There are two others--as you're likely well aware of if Kaerys spoke to you--Satheas Arcanewhisper and Tallaris Goldbinder."

"That's it?"

"That's it." He took another sip. "We did manipulate Talina though. A bit of mind control, you see. Just enough to secure her vote against the Silverbreeze girl."

"Yeah. I see."

Vya'thaes took a swig of alcohol and then reached into a drawer. There was the click of some sort of secret compartment, and when he pulled his hand back he was carrying a small bundle of documents tied together by a thin string. He tossed them onto the desk. "Here you are."

Ren reached for the documents and Vya'thaes spoke again. "By the way, where are you staying? I'm sure wherever it is I can set you up in some place more comfortable."

Ren had to hold back a snort. The man couldn't get any more obvious. He would be safer sleeping on the streets of Murder Row than any place Vya'thaes knew of.

"Don't worry about me," he said.

"Suit yourself."

Pocketing the documents, Ren turned to leave. There was no point being in proximity to this man any longer than he needed to be.

"I do have one question, Mr. Branson."

That couldn't be good. Ren didn't like questions, especially not when they came with that haughty tone of voice that signified the asker already knew the answer.

"At trial Seraphita said she was there when Kaerys was killed. In fact, she said that he told her all about Satheas and Tallaris." Ren stopped, his head turning so he could just make out Vya'thaes out of the corner of his eye. "But that can't be right, not if Kaerys told you... Unless you were both there?"

His pulse quickened and his mind began to race. He was in close quarters with his back turned against a mage that specialized in fire, and he could feel the blossoming presence of magic begin to materialize, the heat that came with the formation of a fireball or fireblast. Ren had only a few seconds to think, only a few seconds to react, and since he had little hope in outright charging the man, that left him with one option.

He ducked to the ground and cast a concealing spell just as a swirling ball of hot fire shrieked over his head. It hissed into nothingness--likely dismissed by Vya'thaes lest he burn his home down--but Ren was too busy moving into action to notice. He reached for his boot, pulled out a knife that was sheathed at its side, and leaped behind a chair to dodge a wide breath of fire.

Still under the effect of his concealment spell, he peeked over the top of the chair, aimed the knife, and threw.

There was a cry of pain followed by a curse and a great explosion of fire that enveloped the chair and burned Ren with it. He hissed as the fire seared him, burning away a flame resistance spell he had earlier applied. Rolling away, he suddenly felt himself slammed to the floor by an invisible force. The air was forced from his lungs, and he entered into a fit of coughing as he inhaled a gust of smoke.

"Try to betray me, will you?"

A boot bruised his side, and when he looked up Vya'thaes was there, angry, sweating, bleeding from his arm.

"I paid you to kill her, not fuck her and kill everyone I hired."

Another kick, and he was too breathless, too full of hot smoke to say or do anything.

"Too pathetic to speak? Then die knowing this, runt: whatever stunt you tried to pull here today was meaningless. Seraphita will die--" Vya'thaes coughed. "--will die..." He clutched at his chest, his eyes bulging like those of a landed fish flopping about for air. His face twisted in pain, his complexion red and ruddy, and his mouth opened wide as he wheezed for air.

"Poison," Ren said with a grunt, wincing as he sat up.

Vya'thaes looked at him with a face full of anger. One of his hands was thumping against his chest as if to beat the poison away, but his other hand reached for Ren. A spark caught, growing, growing to the size of an apple, but then it snuffed out. The mage's hands fell and his body slumped to the ground, wide-eyed but still.

Ren hobbled towards the dead man's desk. He was injured, but there were almost certainly more documents of worthwhile note inside.

The secret compartment Vya'thaes had retrieved his documents from earlier was still open. Ren rummaged through it, stuffing a number of papers in a pouch at his belt then quickly searching the rest of the drawers as well as the rest of the room. He found a piece of parchment sticking out of a book, so he grabbed it and then took up the task of searching Vya'thaes' corpse. Finding nothing, he made for the exit, slipping past a pair of sexually frustrated servants feeling each other up and then exiting through where he had came.

Ren's booted feet carried him out of the garden and further into the city; over cobbled streets, under crystal lamps whose glow changed from yellow to blue to red to purple and green depending upon that particular city ward, past armor-plated defense golems that would have doubled his height even in worgen form, and finally into the arms of two guards that were patrolling near Murder Row. They observed him as he approached, likely thinking he was a drunkard, and he held out his arms, a stupid grin on his face.

"Hello gentlemen. I have a confession to make."

Seraphita laid back and crossed her feet at the ankles, eyes glancing about the stony confines of her new home. For a jail cell it wasn't too bad.

Really, it was just a little cramped, but the bed was nice enough and there was a window that let in plenty of light. And she had yet to see even a single bug.

And she was going to be put to death.

Seraphita twisted a strand of hair between her fingers, chewed on it as she stared up at the ceiling. The final vote had been 4-3, with Talina Dawnstar providing the unexpected vote against her. Seraphita had assumed that the only other councilmembers in league with Vya'thaes would be Tallaris and Satheas, but apparently she was wrong. Talina was either involved with them and their plot, or unbelievably incompetent.

It was hard not to be angry. She was still young by elven standards, and now through no fault of her own she was being punished due to corruption at the highest level of government by an institution that was supposed to mete out justice. It was unfair, but at the very least this second trial of hers did seem to shake the Council up a bit. Pellar and Disiri had changed their votes this time around, so with any luck the evidence Delanna had uncovered against Vya'thaes would lead to something productive.

Her thoughts drifted further, and the twisting of her hair between her fingers continued. And what of Ren? It was impossible for her to be mad at him now, but she was worried. His note said that he was doing something--Light knew what--to help her, but it was a bit too late for that now, and he had yet to show himself. Had he gotten into trouble? Was he in a jail cell like her? Had he simply abandoned her? No, she didn't believe he would do that, but trouble? Oh yes, he could get into trouble.

A haughty voice, loud and feminine, roused her from her thoughts. "Move, idiot!"

Looking up, Seraphita spotted Delanna shoving past a guard, opening her cell, and then striding inside. Her red hair was in a high bun and she wore a tight black dress with loose sleeves that extended down her hands all the way up to her fingertips. Fashionable as ever, even inside of a prison.

"How are you, Sera?" She sat down upon the bed and inspected Seraphita's face as if she was a doctor eyeballing a patient. It didn't look like the councilwoman had slept very much.

The question seemed absurd given her situation, but Seraphita managed a smile. "Well enough."

"Good," she said with a nod. "Very good. Don't get your stomach twisted into knots worrying. I'll take care of things. In fact, I've got a meeting lined up with the Regent Lord tomorrow."

So there was hope after all. Still, it was probably best to temper her expectations. She'd been convicted twice--double guilty!

"I appreciate it," Seraphita said, "but I want you to be careful. I doubt Vya'thaes will sit back and let you move against him."

Delanna snorted. "He'll try and cover his tracks, sure, but after that little stunt during your trial I doubt he'll try anything else. And if he does..." She held her hand out palm up and wiggled her fingers, bouncing five tiny arcane spheres atop them. "I don't mind a little challenge."

Seraphita knew that Delanna had an obligation to root out corruption, but she couldn't help but feel like she was the one putting her in danger. "Still, be careful," she warned.

Delanna smiled reassuringly and looked like she was about to say something when the harsh voice of her jailer interrupted them. "Excuse me, Your Grace."

Delanna spared a look over her shoulder at the guard then looked back towards Seraphita. "I'll be right back." She stood up to join the man outside of Seraphita's cell, conversing with him in hushed whispers.

Seraphita couldn't hear them, but she could sure as fel see Delanna's eyes widen. The councilwoman glanced at her, piquing her curiosity, then exchanged a few more words with the guard before nodding and returning to sit down beside her.

"What is it?" Seraphita asked.

"Vya'thaes is dead." She steepled her hands in her lap. "They found his body last night."

Good, was her first thought, and then, "How?"

"Poison, most likely." Delanna leaned back as she mulled things over. "Funny thing is that his bodyguard was killed too, in Ruby Hill Park. But he was killed by what looks to be claws."

"Claws?" Seraphita's breath caught as the realization of what happened abruptly smacked her in the face. "Ren," she whispered. It had to be him.

"Who?"

She took a deep breath, looked the older woman in the eye, and began to recount her story. The full story, Ren included.

Pain like the stab of a knife split through Ren's brain, searing hot and clawing its way through the rest of his body.

His arms and legs were shackled to the granite stones that made up his little prison, an uncomfortable, cramped and surprisingly cold enclosure maintained by a number of guards, two of which were currently "interrogating" him. The method of torture--or interrogation as they liked to call it--was magical in nature. They left no bruises, no blood, no obvious physical signs of affliction, but the pain was very real. Naturally, as he had nothing to hide and was not particularly fond of having his mind turned inside-out, he had already told them everything. That was the problem with types like this though, they enjoyed what they did and no one much cared about the welfare of a self-confessed murderer. Not that he could really blame them.

"Who put you up to it?" the robed interrogator asked. His partner stood to the side, arms folded and looking bored.

He could tell him the truth again by saying "Nobody" for the twelfth time, or he could insult his mother. How about "Arthas" as an answer? No, too crude. The Light? That's perfect.

Ren opened his mouth to deliver his quip just as a strike of lightning crackled through his brain, making him cry out and strain against his bonds.

Truth be told, he had expected to get roughed up a little. A bit of a beating perhaps, but this was something else.

Leave it to elves to not want to get their hands dirty while torturing someone.

The door to his cell creaked open, but Ren kept his eyes shut. With any luck someone had come to retrieve him and would take him to the execution chamber or gallows or whatever else they used. More likely, it was an interrogator with an even greater affinity for sadism.

"Enough of that." A new voice barked.

Ren opened his eyes and blinked away the sweat from his eyelashes. His interrogator was conversing with a man in impressive plate panoply, red and silver with a phoenix spreading its wings on the breastplate. He looked out of place within the bleak and wretched confines of Ren's cell, but his expensive suit of armor somehow found a way to brighten the room.

The newcomer stepped towards him, but Ren kept his head lowered to his chest. "Are you my guardian angel?" he asked.

"Not exactly." The man dismissed the other guards with a wave of his hand. "But I was sent by her."

Ren looked him in the eye for the first time. "Seraphita sent you?"

He grunted an affirmative. "Good thing, too. Been working on you all day, huh?"

Ren ignored his question. "How is she?"

The man shrugged. "Glad that she won't be executed. Upset that you will be."

Ren's mouth quirked in a little half-smile. "That first part is all that matters."

"I agree, but she doesn't."

Who exactly was this guy and how did he know Sera? "What's your name?" he asked.

"Alesteon Lightwalker. A friend of Sera's."

"Ah." He shifted, the chains around his ankles clinking against the stone floor. "I have you to thank for saving her then. After her first trial."

"Mhm, but don't tell anybody else about that." He fiddled with the hilt of his sword absentmindedly. "Didn't expect her to come back though. Especially not with"--Alesteon chuckled as if he still couldn't quite believe it--"a worgen assassin."

"Trust me, I don't believe it either."

They shared a laugh, but then things turned sober again.

"I'd like to free you. For her sake, I mean, but I can't." Alesteon paused, but when Ren said nothing he continued. "Why'd you do it?"

Ren didn't understand. "Do what? Turn myself in? Kill her fiancé?"

"No. The first one. You seem like a decent enough person if you're willing to die for your girl, so why kill at all?"

It took him a second, but then he realized what he meant: the first person he had ever killed. For a heavy period of time he didn't say anything, but then he looked up at the man. "I wanted to escape Gilneas. Before your Horde invasion, even. The country had been in dire straits for a while at that point, and me and my family wanted out. I had a friend who was involved in some real bad stuff, trained me as a rogue when I was growing up, and he offered me a job in exchange for a hefty amount of money and a trip out of the country."

"For family and for opportunity then," Alesteon said. "Who was the unlucky fellow?"

"A magistrate."

"Hm. And you still think it was worth it?"

"On the contrary, I try not to think about it." Ren stared at the man's expensive armor, but his eyes were unfocused. "It was hard though. Where I grew up there was no right, no wrong, just whatever got you through the night. And when family's involved you'll do just about anything."

"Even here in Silvermoon we have high crime areas. Lots of murder, lots of people addicted to mana rocks. But that's no excuse for murder."

"You're right. I didn't say it was a good reason."

"Fair enough."

He seemed as if he was about to leave, so Ren asked him, "Can I see her?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not, and don't try to convince me, either. She cried enough for the both of you."

Ren's eyes fell to the floor. Shame sluiced through him, but he took solace in the fact that she was, at the very least, safe, sound, and free.

"Your trial will be held soon," Alesteon continued. "There's only four members of the Council left now, so with any luck you won't have to sit there and listen to them talk for too long."

Ren rolled his shoulders; his shackles clinked in response. "The sooner the better."