Sometime before the raid on the castle…
In a looted house within Azelea’s wealthiest housing district, several members of Miasma battalion share a meal together. Moira lounges at the head of the table, a wineglass in her hand. On her right sits her redheaded slave Ginny, lashed to the chair by her wrists and ankles, while the ninja sisters sit opposite and chow down on the entire stuffed boar between them. Leaning against the wall of the dining room is Rixa, plate of food in hand and glass on a shelf within arm’s reach. Rixa stands close enough to listen in but far enough away to give off the appearance of solitude, in the hope that no one present would actually make an effort talk to her.
Moira pulls apart a small bundle of grapes and offers one to Ginny. The elf glares at her, but Moira only smiles and pops it into her own mouth, chewing slowly. The slave’s stomach growls and her glare falters; the next time Moira offers a grape, Ginny opens her mouth and allows the dark mage to slip it in.
From across the table, Anko rolls her eyes and tosses a small bone aside. “So, we’re here. What’s the big mystery? Spill the beans already!”
“Patience, dear,” Moira replies as she feeds Ginny a piece of smoked ham. “We’re still one guest short. How are you doing, Rixa? Sure you wouldn’t like to come join us?”
“I’m fine,” Rixa responds curtly. Moira raises an eyebrow at her.
“‘Fine?’ That’s it?” Moira holds Ginny’s neck with one hand and raises a cup of water to her mouth with the other, helping her to take a drink. “You aren’t apprehensive about storming the mighty fortress of Azelea? Horrified by the depravity currently taking place in the city streets? Exhilarated by the prospect of more killing and looting once we’ve taken the castle? Proud of Miasma battalion, who has been given the honor of leading the next charge by Toxin herself?”
Rixa snorts. “I don’t give a shit about the battalion’s ‘honor’ or that crazy witch.”
A trickle dribbles down Ginny’s throat as she gulps the water down. Moira smiles as she sets the cup aside, and then licks the water off the elf’s skin. Ginny shudders. “Mmhmm… and yet you have killed so many in Toxin’s service,” Moira remarks.
“I am required to kill, so I kill,” Rixa growls. “As soon as this campaign is finished, I’m gone.”
“Do you really believe Toxin will just let us go, once the campaign is over?” Moira asks softly. The question seems to freeze the others in place for a moment. Anko finishes chewing her mouthful of food, then swallows and pushes her plate aside. Yoshiko lowers her wineglass without taking a drink and does the same. Before anyone can reply, the silence is broken by Elendra, who rushes through the open doorway. “I apologize for my tardiness,” Elendra pants. “Is this mine?” She takes Anko’s abandoned plate, piles some more meat and a few rolls on top of it, and begins eating without waiting for a response.
“Worry not, Elendra. Your timing was perfect. Now we can begin,” Moira replies. She gives Ginny a warm smile and kisses her forcefully. After they break apart, Moira snaps her fingers. A crackle of energy flows through the room, and Ginny’s eyes cloud over, growing milky-white. The slave visibly panics, breathing heavily as she turns her head from side to side. Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.
Yoshiko stares at Moira. “Oh, this is nothing,” Moira waves a hand dismissively. “A little trick I put together, with some help from my friend of course.” She nods at Elendra. “Poor Ginny should be blind, deaf, and mute for the duration of our little chat. An unnecessary precaution, perhaps, but one can never be too careful when discussing treason.”
Anko giggles and holds out her hand, palm up. Yoshiko sighes and gives her a gold coin. “I can’t believe you, of all people, joined Astrid’s little plot. I thought you would have better survival skills than that,” Yoshiko grumbles.
Moira blinks at her but recovers quickly. “Well, you clearly know a disturbing amount already, but you seem to be missing a few key details. We have almost half the battalion on our side, per Rixa’s suggestion, and we have the beginnings of an actual plan.”
Elendra’s eating slows down at the mention of treason, but doesn’t stop. She tears into one of her rolls as she listens, wide-eyed, to the others’ conversation.
“Good for you,” Rixa shrugs. “I still don’t see a reason to stick my neck out just to get the princess in charge.”
“Don’t you?” Moira asks. “Perhaps you haven’t heard what happened to poor Feira? I know you remember what Marla convinced Shandris to do. Who do you suppose would have been given the honor of setting off the mana bomb, if Marla didn’t have a willing elf available?” No one answers Moira’s question; they don’t have to. “Make no mistake: no matter how many victories we win for her, we are all just tools to Marla. Tools for her to use to gain power, or to lash out at her rivals. And when Magatha finally decides to take vengeance for that stunt with the poison, it won’t be Marla who suffers for it.”
“Okay, okay, we get it,” Anko interrupts. “Marla’s bad news. What do you want us to do about it?”
“Simple. We kill Marla.” Moira takes a sip of wine and allows her words to sink in for a moment. “And once she’s gone, we raise up one of our own to replace her. Someone who won’t use us as tools or test subjects. A leader who won’t use her troops to pursue petty vendettas against our supposed allies. Someone—”
“Like you?” Yoshiko cuts in. “Somehow I think her royal bratty-ness will take exception to that.”
Moira shrugs. “Well, on paper at least, the plan is to hand control of the battalion over to Astrid once the dust settles. But we all know that Toxin is the one who will have the final say on that matter. And I’m willing to bet that magical prowess matters a lot more to our dear iron-fisted tyrant than aristocratic niceties.” Moira leaves unsaid the other detail that she knows is on everyone’s mind: the fact that who would be left in command also depended greatly on who would survive the confrontation with Marla. “Besides, no matter who Toxin chooses as Marla’s replacement, they’re sure to be better than our current fearless leader, don’t you agree?”
Rixa stalks to the table leans over it. She looks Moira dead in her eyes. “Okay. Suppose we pull this off. Suppose that Toxin rewards you with a promotion, instead of a decapitation.” Anko chuckles. “What guarantees do we have that you’ll treat us any better than Marla? That you’ll help free us once this nightmare is over, instead of screwing us over to win a few brownie points with your new master? You’re not exactly pure as the driven snow yourself, Moira.” Rixa nods at the frightened elven slave tied to her chair next to the dark mage.
Moira smiles sweetly up at Rixa. “No guarantees whatsoever.” The ninja sisters scowl at her, while one of Rixa’s hands curls into a fist. Even Elendra frowns at the dark mage. “But, I can promise you this: I’m a known quantity.” Moira strokes Ginny’s hair as she speaks, slowly calming the redhead down. “I might have my little indulgences, like everyone does—” Rixa snorts derisively. “But! They do not include betraying my comrades, even ones like Astrid, or, gods help me, August. I am loyal to those who are loyal to me. Which is more than anyone can say for Marla. You all remember what happened to Tamara. You know what Marla does with her toys once she has no more use for them.” Moira drains her wineglass, giving her audience some time to mull things over. “So, the choice is yours. You can soldier on in the hope that the murderous, insanity-inducing witch will just set you all free once you’ve won her war for her. Or, you can choose to act, and maybe give the reigns to someone a little more worthy of your loyalty. Who knows? With a little luck, you could end up with a goody-two-shoes as your leader, like Tyris or Arastine.”
Elendra is the first to break the long silence that follows. She finishes off the food on her plate before clearing her throat. “You’ve always been straight with me, Moira,” the cleric says. “I’m with you. I’ll have a talk with Cernya, see if I can convince her as well.” The robed young woman bows and makes her exit.
Yoshiko frowns as she considers Moira’s proposition. Her frown deepens to a scowl after she turns to her sister, who is already giving her puppy-dog eyes. “Oh, fine!” Yoshiko snaps. “We’re in.” Anko fist-pumps the air like an excited teenager. “Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get to watch Marla vaporize you and the prissy princess both with my own eyes.”
“One can certainly dream,” Moira murmurs as the ninja duo departs, Anko with a plate of leftovers in each hand. The dark mage turned to the last holdout. Rixa stares at her, unblinking, for almost a solid minute. Then the archer gives Moira a curt nod and departs without a word.
“Excellent,” Moira declares. She turns to Ginny and snaps her fingers inches away from her long, pointed ear. The elf doesn’t react; the spell that deafens her has yet to wear off. Moira stands and drags Ginny’s chiar out away from the table. The mage crawls up into Ginny’s lap and takes her face in her hands. Ginny closes her eyes as Moira kisses her jaw. “You know, I still haven’t decided how I’m going to kill you,” she murmurs into Ginny’s ear. Ginny’s breathing grows shaky as Moira wraps both hands around the redhead’s throat and squeezes gently. “Maybe I’ll take a page out of Rixa’s book. Snap your pretty little neck with my bare hands.” Moira chuckles as she makes out with the bound elf. One hand slides down and begins to unbutton Ginny’s shirt…
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Now…
Rixa looks around at the carnage left in the wake of Kia’s escape. Elendra, distraught over the loss of her protégé, is only now moving to help McKayla with Beth’s severed arm. Tyris rants at Astrid and Arastine and all-but declares war on Marla before she storms away. Rixa looks around to see who is moving to stop her, and is alarmed to find only Eisenhilde doing so.
Oh, shit. Shit-shittity-shit. Tyris’s friends appear frozen in place, McKayla looks about ready to tear someone’s head off as she desperately tries to reattach Beth’s arm, Amanda is still unconscious, and Hathus is dead. To her great surprise, Rixa finds herself following after the other archer. She and Eisenhilde struggle to catch up to Tyris.
What the hell am I doing? Rixa asks herself.
I’m not Tyris’s friend. I can’t recall speaking two words to her before. What am I gonna say? “No, don’t do it, you have so much to live for?” Sounds like corny bullshit, even to me. No, especially to me. Why am I doing this?
Eisenhilde catches up to Tyris first, which suits Rixa just fine. She circles around to put herself between Tyris and the castle exit. Rixa would let Eisenhilde take a stab at calming Tyris down while she tried to come up with something to say. Maybe a miracle would occur, and the Hel fanatic would somehow convince Tyris not to throw her life away, if that was even what the other woman was trying to do.
Knowing my luck, Eisenhilde is over there psyching her up, giving her an elf-blood makeover so that at least her god will get something out of this insanity, Rixa thinks sourly.
