Fantasy Faith and Fealty [Closed]

[Ulyee]

Like a foal to its first gallop, Edric took to it gracefully if not quickly. He made sure to keep form, if not movement. Style if not timing. And while it was plain on his face that he was intently focused on learning, it seemed from afar like that of a resolute statue. He brought his duty even to the ballroom, focusing just as much on learning each step as ensuring his patron was not seen to be with an idiot. And the consequence of that, was a subdued breath and endlessly strained muscles. Which he held perfectly against while dancing. Even in the humble bow, along with the rest of the other men, he seemed to bow the most and keep his form the longest.

But when his Ishara released him to food and fodder, and he was given leave, he all but collapsed. He luckily was just a few long feet away from the various platters and goblets, and no quicker had any man traversed that floor. Suddenly the walls and gowns and faces had all gone. He was now in a sea of food and wine, all to himself. He loaded a plate with a smattering of food- or so he hopped, as most of it was foreign to him. He thought to devour it over the table, and nearly did, but retained an ounce of his humanity by filling his free hand with a goblet and making for a table. Sitting down to it, raising a pouched egg to his lips, he paused for a moment.
Seeing, in one scope, life before him. Food, people, dancing- his own reflection in the polished goblet. That was the moment when it set in, fully, he had not died.
He was by then lightly shaking due to hunger and exhaustion and all the rest. But he held that moment for as long as he could. Savored the glorious fact that he lived, and so too did his people and home. And to no one in particular, he raised his flagon quietly, and muttered a prayer of thanks. Not to the gods of old or those that his family nor town followed. But to Ishara. Without thought or hesitation he again traversed a horrifically thick line into damnation, with a smile and a goblet of wine. Oblivious to nearly all of it, and so the much happier for it.

Edric drank and ate fully, trying his best to stay respectful and noble in his actions. But it was hard not to be taken by greed and need, certainly over eating and drinking on every account. All the while dozens of nobles watched in wonderment at the new noble who took Lady Ishara's first dance.

-----

From across the ballroom, as the grand dances ebbed and flowed, Benedict found his eyes drawing more and more to the noble woman. In large part due to the fuss over her mysterious new companion, and the fact a very powerful wizard seemed to know her well enough to chat alone together. From his gut feeling when he first saw her, to all of the word around her, he grew more and more fixated. There was some strand of fate pulling him towards her.

His curiosity, above all else, got the better of him.

He gauged the right time, and once he found it, he began his approach. Intentionally he hopped from one group to the next, exchanging hello's, flirts, and glances as he saw fit. Intentionally building up the room, the conversation and leaving each group with a phrase somewhere along the lines of, "Excuse me, I've a woman to speak to."

His aim was to build up the gossip, to put the attention on Ishara, to flatter her of course. He had yet to meet a noble who didn't enjoy being at the center of some positive gossip. And being the third man to ask for her private attention at the outset of a ball? Surely that carried enough to at least get her attention.

And finally he made his way to her, wearing a grand smile he stopped some distance away. In a swift bow, he unfurled some of the wild silken draperies he wore, and exclaimed boldly, "Kind Lady, I am Benedict Bailey, a humble servant to the lord of this gala. May I be so bold as to offer myself for a dancing partner? It has been said I am the best in the land- and I shall endeavor to prove that to you. For however long into the night you may need."

He certainly wasn't subtle.

 

[Lucyfer]

There was just the smallest glimmer of entertainment in the demon’s eyes as she watched Edric. ‘Something more than a meal.’ Of that, Morwyn was certain, just as he was certain he would find a way to him. There would be a time when the politics of society prevented Ishara from being able to step in to his side, and he would wait for that.

Ishara had a plan here, and Edric wasn’t it.

So Morwyn did bid her farewell, and returned to his more usual group as the lady also flitted between groups – but her eyes were never long away from Edric, even if it was only a stolen glance hardly a second long. She was waiting for something, and it seemed, that goal was to be interrupted by the entertainer her set this all up. Morwyn didn’t bother masking his own amusement as she was brought into another dance, something he felt she’d been avoiding.

There were some she could deny, and others not so easily. Benedict was not one, not with the rumors.

That gave Morwyn a chance to slip over to where Edric was all but gorging himself upon the food put out, “You seem as if you haven’t eaten in days,” Morwyn joked lightly, and offered a hand, “Morwyn, by the way, just the local wizard,” whether or not Edric believed in such things mattered little, “I don’t suppose the reason for your hunger is that demon is a simple succubus, is it?”

No, he couldn’t be that lucky, but he wondered how the candid language and question would throw Edric. Certainly, no one else would think Morwyn was being serious – merely jesting about a woman’s sexual appetite exhausting a man.

~***~

It was not Edric who brought Benedict to her. Sadly, it seemed releasing him to food without completing his task had been a poor idea, but the poor man had desperately needed it. He was holding himself up by that terrible thread of devotion he had. So, she did not bother him as she spoke with familiar faces throughout the hall, and watched him.

Benedict himself approached, a mild surprise, but not much. He’d been whispering it through group after group, while Ishara remained silent on his own name – though when he approached, he had no name, and offered himself up as only an entertainer, hardly embracing who he could be.

Who he should be.

Of course the eyes followed him, as they did her, so the moment all but stilled the entire room as she looked up his bold display with a dispassionate gaze, before allowing her lips to curl in that impish way.

A dance was an easy way to talk without being overheard.

“We shall see if that is true, and many other things I have heard of you, Your Grace,” it was quiet enough not to be overheard, as she would allow Benedict the opportunity to lead. She had to let him believe he was capable of leading a kingdom, so he’d have to lead a dance. Illusions were important.

 

[Ulyee]

Edric had gorged himself, and found himself, all at the same little spot in the ballroom- Only to then find himself thrust back to dirt and duty by the approaching step of some noble.

And there after, he would prove himself finally more than just a crystalline toy of a demon. Gracefully he took the wizards hand, exchanging a low nod and allowing the man his due. A wizard, and salacious gossip- these were things he knew well. His years in court shone themselves brightly in his response.

"Sir Edric-" he added another nod in slight reverence - though it was curt enough to notice from afar, "I will say sir that I hold great esteem for your kind, wizards of every stripes- but accusations of the demonic ought be left to the clergy." A subtle warning, fit just so for one who sits just atop his own position. There was malice in his words - but despite being so carefully crafted he forgot a simple detail.

His accent, his inflection- it all alerted a keen ear to oddity. He was too young to even understand what talking like that would entail- much less to learn exactly how to. It was not foreign either. But to one who already suspected Ishara as something not of

"Here at the call of your own masters?" he asked, offering common ground through servitude. It was as much an offered hand of comradery, as it was a test. He wanted to know if the wizard would deride his own masters, as he had Ishara.
And he did so effortlessly, without breaking from his meal. Of course the bites were dignified now, and shorter. That did help.

~*~~*~

He had felt confident in his endeavors until his gaze touched her smile. That's when he knew, properly, he was dealing with something dangerous. And of course his own smile rose to match it.

Pulling her to the center of the floor caused all the more fluttering from the gallery and he pulled no stops. He begun to dance fast, taking no time for either of them to learn each others rhythms. Instead opting to freeform what needed to be.

His conversation however came just as fast, with just the same intensity, "I feel you've more a mind to talk then dance, dear lady." Shedding formality in a sentence between twirl and step.

"And I know when to lead and when to follow- have you really come to claim such a virtuous man such as I? Was what I saw in that smile?" And just as quick, offering himself up between break and pull.

Of course his mind was on the bedroom- what woman looked at a man with such a gaze for any other reason? And there he found solace. Lust he could wrap his head around easily- it didn't have to make waves in his world, it was known. But he had a suspicion that small anchor was about to dragged out from under him by this strange tempest of a woman.

And he truly could not tell if it excited or terrified him.

 

[Lucyfer]

Edric spoke in a strange fashion. Morwyn couldn’t place it, but he understood the oddity all the same as it rang in his ears. His brows knit together, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he was told – warned – not to mention what Ishara was. “Apologies Edric, but it is also a wizard’s business to know of demonic influence. Some of us, myself included, gather our powers from deals with demons.”

He wanted Edric to know they were akin, in a way, to help smooth over the difficulty of the topic. “Not that I would say that to my masters. They’re dear, but like many in society, they don’t…appreciate where knowledge can come from. My own companion is not here, as he happens to prefer the guise of a cat. Thankfully, he’s no incubi or succubi,” Morwyn chuckled.

Prefer may be a strong term. Morwyn was fairly convinced that ‘Amon’ couldn’t take another form for long, his power not that substantial.

Not like Ishara. She was a demon of another class, and no mere succubus – he knew this. There’d be far more people dead in this town of mysterious ailments if that were the case, considering she’d need to be making use of the human population to sustain herself. Morwyn wasn’t sure how she sustained herself.

Or if Benedict was soon to be her next meal, based on the way she was looking at him in their dance. “Is the Lady your own master, then?” It didn’t usually work that way. Usually, the demon was the servant in the relationship, until it was over.

Then, well…then it changed.

~***~

Ishara had a knack for movements, even if she did not fall in the class of succubus as perhaps, one member of the noble party considered. She saw things easier than humans, and responded with as much ease. There was the temptation to disrupt it, and see if Benedict would keep his wits about him.

But the temptation towards chaos was always there, especially as boredom gnawed at the back of her mind.

There was an honest boredom in how Benedict thought it was simple lust that drew her to him. Sexual pleasure was as boring as delicious cake, delightful and fleeting. Some continued to chase it to decadently debauched heights, never satisfied, and others, like her – well, it became tedious, the high never quite hitting as desired, unless it involved something more, although she hadn’t quite figured out what that more was. Manipulations and corruptions almost put her there when she laid with another, but not enough.

Not anymore.

And Benedict would take no manipulation whatsoever.

Boring.

And so, Ishara disrupted with as step in rather than a step back, a pull, and a twist that moved Benedict around her rather than the other way around. ‘Then follow, mortal.’

Her eyes never lost that burning intensity, “Would you really lie to me, Benedict, of your virtue?” A cross, as perfectly timed as the suggestion of being crossed, “Going forward is the only way in all matters, dear king, and I have a mind to see you ahead if it is your desire,” blazing words covered by music for all ears but his.

“I know you are aware of the truth of your lineage.”

Well, that was a lie. The lineage, anyways.

These things Benedict did not need to know, though.

“But if all you desire is simply to plunder for plunder’s sake and never take hold of anything, I can leave you as I have found you.”

She didn’t think the words would frighten him off, but she expected some fear. Some hesitation. No immediate answers, no – but she hoped the words would stick.

 

[Ulyee]

Edric, slowly shedding pretense as Morwyn talked, finally interrupted him all together, "Dear wizard." He began curtly, and with a noted louder tone, "I'll have it said you seem to be less incline to those of this world- As I can assure my lady Ishara is- then you do these flights of fancy. You'll either rid yourself of such accusations, or of the use of your lips from which to issue them from." Too revealing, and too threatening, certainly a man of his time.

In years past it was treason to speak ill of a noble, as a lesser. All the same discourse of that nature took a violent turn. It was simply natural- offering the choice of a fight was the chivalrous thing to do.

But certainly his ties to the demon, and his capacity there in was exposed. But it went a shade deeper than that. Wordy wizards had always rubbed him the wrong way. But it was smearing his betters- whether right about the demon's true self or his own patron's idiocy was far besides the point. It was simply wrong, and unbecoming. To question it to presume one's own importance, and that was just not something he could believe in. Not yet, anyways.

At the very least it shone initiative, archaic bravery, and made clear a few soft spots to poke at when need be.

---------

Benedict, in his battle of words, was again and again thrown off his balance. She saw through him, then imposed truth to a burning question, and topped it all with a dare of inaction. And all it did was steadily quicken his pace and harshen his step. It was the light to a very tender and dry pile of hay.

He tried to play the game from there on, protect his own interests and the rest. But his body as a whole told the demon the one thing she needed to know- he was caught.

"Such a bounty you're offering- I could only image the cost of this help, this proof-" he cut infront of her step, redirecting them further to the center of the ballroom as if already prepared to take the spotlight, "And we both know, we could both be chased out of the city by sun rise if what you just said made it to any other set of ears. What's your game, my fair lady? What's the angle?"

 

[Lucyfer]

Morwyn could tell there was something off with Edric, even if he couldn’t place what. He went right to threats, whereas people here – even soldiers and guards – tended to at least veil their threats with velvet gloves. It was never so overt. Was this why the demon liked him? How strange. Ishara could be direct, but she was so with words.

He hadn’t actually witness her do anything but use that silver tongue or golden fingers to win people over.

No magic.

No violence.

Did she want Edric for that, to make her own hands seem unstained in blood?

He felt Ishara’s gaze a moment, but did not dare to look her way, retaining his calm gaze on Edric. Despite the threats, he didn’t flinch; he was practiced in his own way, and it was hardly the first time he’d been threatened. There were enough people who didn’t like wizards, after all. “If she is not what I believe, good sir, then what is she to you? I cannot say I know her rank, her family, her duties, nor even where she hails from. Nor can I say where you hail from or what it is you do. This is the first I’ve seen of you at her side, yet you speak as if you know her very well.”

Perhaps if he divulged about himself, then it would start to help Morwyn put more pieces together, before he had to rush to Amon for assistance.

Ishara had seen his interference.

That wasn’t going to go over well.

~***~

Ishara allowed the redirection, and resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes at his queries, at his attempts to delay. When at a cliff, one didn’t wait for a rope to be thrown! “Every ear has heard, your grace,” Ishara said, “you do not truly think everyone is here for that no-name noble you created this event for, do you? You do not think everyone stands at attention, waiting for you to grace their group, so they can hire you as an entertainer? No one wants an entertainer who outshines themselves.”

They wanted his favor, for the day he did choose to rise. They may not jump at the first chance, but they were preparing to – that old ‘do you remember when’ with little laughs about why it took them so long to go to the ‘right side’.

“You stand today, or you fall forever. That is what everyone is here for, your grace,” she would insist on the title as if it was already his, to make him comfortable with it, “I only wish to stand alongside you until it is done, and I have with me a knight undefeated who will make sure all the guards of the kingdom do you no harm on your way up,” a brief step back and a swirl to make it clear who she meant.

Even if that pesky wizard was trying to disrupt things.

Well, nothing devouring his soul wouldn’t take care of. And she was famished.

“I have no other price than your decision to act. Seeing truth come to light, and kings made to deal with the consequences of their lusts, is payment enough,” enough bitterness in tone, to suggest there was something personal to it.

Personal vendettas often made one more likely to be believed, after all. Trusted.

As far as this man knew, for now, she could have easily been another woman taken advantage of at one point – by another noble, or by this very king – it mattered not.