Are we talking about revolution? (Private|Shei)

[Eyvind Redbeard]

6th Darkening of the Fourth Cycle in the Month of Junctior in the season of Autumn; Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIII Post Fractum.

As usual the Crown was almost full. Eyvind had to pull some lutrans out of a bench to be able to sit, what cause some screams and complains. In some other day Eyvind wouldn't do such a thing, but today was a bad day. His training didn't go as expected and he failed in performing some simple tasks. Everything he wanted was to drink his ale peacefully, and alone! That meant the halfling sitting in the other bench shouldn't be there! Punching the table and pointing the door Eyvind managed to scare him of.

"Bring me my fresh ale!" he shouted when the waitress took to long to reach him.

Waiting for his drink Eyvind rested his head in his right hand.

[Shei'yein Neydremi]

The elf had spent a good deal of time in the Crown recently – listening, learning, and absorbing. It was the pulse of the people that drove the empire more than anything else. The bureacracy existed, of course, as it had always existed. Yet, a brightening would come when the mandate would turn against the empire, and it would fall, to be replaced by something else – something more. The best way to anticipate that would be to see the will of the common people.

Shei’yein walked through the tavern. It was packed. It always was. He was draped in robes and leathers, natural in colour; the elf seemed the embodiment of autumn itself, painted as he was in shades of gold and browns. His features were not his own; it was too dangerous for him to show his own face in public, or to use his own name. Instead, his face was hawkishly elven, a hard face that had seen much adversity – his own, stripped of any softer beauty. Yet, strength was beautiful as well.

He motioned off to a waitress as he walked, dropping a few crowns into her palm and picking up a glass of Platian Chablis in his hand, cupping the stem of the glass softly in his hand. Somewhat amusedly, he noticed a human bullying a halfling into fleeing the tavern, or at the very least, his table. Life, like the battlefield, was simple. The strong survive. The weak die.

Approaching the table, the elf sat down, unintimidated by any displeasure that would or would not be voiced.

“Not looking for company, are you?” the elf said, raising his eyebrows with slight, thinly veiled amusement.

[Eyvind Redbeard]

"What now? An elf? When will I have some peace?" Eyvind whispered. Eyeing the elf in the eyes Eyvind acted as if he didn't exist, at least for a while. When his drink came he turned to the elf with no expression on his face.

"You can stay there if you don't talk too much, I am trying to have some peace and mourn someone."

The ale wasn't as fresh as it used to be, or at least Eyvind thought so after taking a sip. "Damn ale, and damn waitress! Why can't I have something like I want? Damn Empire that rises incompetent people..."

[Eyvind Redbeard]

"The Empire?" the elf asked.

"Yes! This damn Empire that sends people to needless deads." Eyvind replied in an angry tone.

"Tell me what happened."

"Why would one such yourself be interested in the mourning of a human?"

"Not in your mourning, human; but rather, the fires that it has ignited in your eyes. Fires that, past the haze of alcohol, bear an unfocused strength."

"A strength I will never be able to use properly as I am alone in my revenge...My father died with no reason, he served the Empire with his life and still...I could never understand..."

"Strength is trained, not given, young one. Your father - he worked as a soldier of the empire?"

"He did, for many years. He fought for the Legions and died in the process. He didn't want to serve there...but he had no choice..."

"Food, money, shelter - the men of the legion fight for all these things, but seldem are they coerced into it, claim those of the empire. Or is it not so?"

"My father didn't have much choice, the Legion needs men and Vagarans are prized for their value in combat. In the particular case of my father, or he joined the Legion, with some more villagers, or our village would be on its own in matters of defence."

"Yes. There never really is a choice, is there? Nor do I suppose, even after joining, that the legion was allowed to stay to protect a single village."

"We didn't need a whole Legion, but some soldiers would be a great help to my untrained Militia..."

"Ah, but the legion goes where the governing body sees fit. And in times of war or strife - it is the strategic centres they are concerned with, and it is those that they defend. For with centralized government, the component parts are less important than the whole."

"Men lie. Men with great power, greater lies. Unless things are broken into their component parts, all exists to serve the hierarchy itself. But who would be capable of removing that framework itself? You?"

"If needed! If no one else helps me I will find a way of dealing with things on my own! I will have my revenge and my people will have its honour once more!"

"Yes? And how do you plan to do this? What can one man accomplish against the mountain before us this brightening?"

"I didn't say I would have my revenge in a single brightening did I? And how can I know I can trust you? How can I be sure you won't turn me in when I say what I am planning to do? How can I say you won't turn me in right now?"

"You don't. But if I were with the Sel'rakrya, you would already be in chains, dragged down to a forgotten dungeon, and tortured with unspeakable devices until you would be willing to confess that two and two make five. And were I any other citizen, I would not be so foolish as to incriminate myself to the eyes that watch us by having this conversation. So all that leaves, perhaps, is one possibility. That I am a man of no repute, representing a larger body, interested in what you have to say. Perhaps I will walk away afterwards, unconvinced and unimpressed, and your life will be as it always has. Or perhaps I will not."

"So I have to trust you...I will but remember that breaking a Vagaran's trust is a death sentence. So you want to know how I will have my revenge? Quite simple in fact. I will use the Empire's greatest weakness, the very same thing most think its greatest strength. The Legions. It will take me years to rise in the ranks and to have enough influence, but when the time comes I will have an army ready to fight for what I believe right, I don't necessarily need to destroy the Empire, but making it kneel in pain will give courage to other unpleased ones like myself to step forward."

"How interesting. Our minds lie alike in this, for the empire has truly let the legions become a crutch. But what gives you the confidence that drives you, that makes you believe you, out of the thousands upon thousands of officers in the legion today, will rise to become a general?"

"I believe I may have chance because of the omens and because of my iron will, an old man once said me "If you really want something to happen, that thing is more likely to happen than if you don't want it to happen.", the old man ended up dieing with fever some hours later, maybe because he didn't want to live anymore I don't know, but these words still echo in my head. I do want to command a Legion, so with some skill and luck I will become a general one day."

"Perhaps. But the winds of change blow quickly across these realms, and there is more at work than you, yourself, can see. Surely, you do not believe yourself to be the only one in these lands disenchanted with the tyranny of the empire. Skill and luck are but two factors in the equation. There are those in these lands who could offer you assistance, for their interests lie in parallel with your own. Yet, to offer such a relationship requires trust - trust that once the empire has fallen, the general does not try to become another Julos, to take power over all the people and reign supreme, birthing another demon. Can these men trust you, human?"

"Whoever those men are they can trust me, I won't want nothing form me besides my homeland and the chance of creating a proper realm to my kind. Even then I won't want any power besides the one of being capable of defending such land. All the power will go to the people. I am no politician, I am a soldier, that eases my life as I only need to see the enemy in front of me."

The elf smiled, slipping a plain ceramic earring out of his pocket. On the earring was inscribed a phrase in Ancient Allerian. It was non-descript, nearly unnoticable.
"Ars Sanctorum."

"Do these words mean anything to you?" he asked rhectorically. "In the tongue of the ancient Allerians, they mean 'the art of the saints'; it is the work of the holy ones. Yet, in a world where god and man alike would oppress man, the holiest are those most hunted by society, most despised, and most feared. Gain strength and power within the legion, as you planned. We will be in touch with you, and we will be watching you. Stay prepared to strike. Intone the words 'concordia salus' in your mind whenever you wish to speak to me - we are with you now."

Surprised Eyvind took the earring and watched it. Looking to the elf he spoke.

"So...you are one of those who are disenchanted with the tyranny of the Empire. I think I can really trust you now, my name is Eyvind Redbeard." Eyvind offered his hand to the elf.

The elf extended his hand, gripping the human's digits with his own bony fingers.

"I am a speaker for many. And yet, just as I speak for the revolutionary forces, there are many loyalists in the realms who know of the storms of discontent that are forming. You must be wary. Tell no one of your goals henceforth, regardless of who they claim they work for. The Sel'rakrya grows, and the agents of the empire are not to be underestimated. We will be in touch," the elf finished with a cold smile and a nod. With that, he rose from his chair, and with a shimmer, promptly... vanished.

Still blinking his eyes Eyvind looked to the earring once more and placed in his right ear. Finishing his drink he left the building after giving some coins to the waitress.