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...And Into The Fire (Completed | OoC Welcome) - Printable Version

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RE: ...And Into The Fire (Open | OoC Welcome) - Melkire - 06-23-2014

Chief Flame Sergeant Osric Melkire sat at his desk in his quarters. He leaned back in his chair and held up the vial to the light once more, turning it this way and that between his fingers as he stared at the green fluid within.

What is it? What's it for? Why does she need it mass-produced, if it's not meant for the masses? What does he expect me to do with this? Why didn't I just ask him?

He knew why he hadn't asked. Asking would have meant knowing. Without knowing, he wasn't obligated to follow any particular course of action. Without obligation, he was free. 

Ignorance could be a wonderful thing, at times.

He couldn't help but be unnerved, however, at the unexpected reveal of yet another vial, yet another concoction. Garleans... he shook his head. Clearly, Garlemald had no shortage of ingenuity when it came to death-dealing. First, there'd been the Blue Blood....

He grimaced, remembering the sight of her hand a few suns ago, her palm sliced open down the middle, blood oozing out... red and blue.

First, there'd been the Blue Blood. The refugees outside the Gates had been hit first, and hit hardest. Then Jin'li had come to him, bearing his latest master's "gift".

Three vials of black fluid. Three lifelines. In the spirit of fair play.

He remembered wondering whether Rema knew how to count. Kahn'a, Kanaria, Askier, and himself. That made four. Not one or two or three, but four. Four vials, for four individuals.

Instead? Three.

That bitch, making him choose. As if there'd been any choice at all; he'd given the others theirs, and he'd gone without. Trusted the alchemist closest to his heart to come through, to make more. Trusted her to not fail.

She hadn't. The "cure", if that's what it was, had been replicated. He'd passed off one of the new vials to the Hall. The Flames were still struggling with mass production and circulation; apparently, synthesizing the damned thing wasn't easy.

Meanwhile, people kept falling dead on the streets.

Meanwhile...

He grit his teeth and sat up, the front legs of his chair slamming down on the cold stone floor with a loud thud.

Garleans. This all came back around to Garleans. First, there'd been Askier... but Askier'd been nothing but a pawn under Jin'li. Jin'li, who worked for Adin. Adin, who had died on Pearl Lane alongside his precious slave-servant. Adin had perished... but Jin'li had survived having a sword thrust through his chest. Had somehow survived what should have been an irrefutably fatal and mortal blow, just as he'd somehow survived having his throat slit back in La Noscea.

Jin'li had gone on to serve Rema, one of Adin's subordinates. Rema had become his new master... and Rema was "kind". Kind enough to opt for a different kind of warfare, the kind that left men, women, and children gasping for air. Kind enough to leave him and his friends for last.

Matters had been bad enough, but then Jin'l... the servant, the slave, the tool... Jin'li turned in Rema's hand. He delivered her head to Kanaria. In a jar. As a "gift". Because he was "kind". He had access to and control over Rema's resources, now. And if the latest news on that front was any indication, he'd gone mad. Thought he was yet serving both his former masters, that they spoke to him from beyond the grave, from Thal's domain.

A few nights ago, the albino had held a gun to Kanaria's head.

In Osric's mind, the Miqo'te known as Jin'li Epinoch wasn't long for this world.

That was just the one front, though. The other was Taeros. Jameson Taeros was an inspector and the go-to lackey for the Monetarist faction. He'd been working with Delial... and if Delial was to be believed, he worked for a woman named Banurein. Banurein, who was hiding amongst the Exiles.

Garleans. Garleans everywhere he turned. Weeds, most of them, in need of uprooting.

Delial....




"Delial... is a rotting apple. But mayhap at times you'll find one what with parts that can be salvaged."

"But how do you distinguish something salvagable from something that's not?"

The sergeant smirked at the man seated across from him. "You cut into it and take a look, of course."

"Come on, Osric", the other said with a  smirk of his own. "The metaphor breaks down. I know a man who could cut into you in such a way that you'd tell us your own mother was a Garlean. I need something more than that..."

"And you'll have it, if there's something to be had. That, and the proof."

C'kayah Tia looked at him with a smug smile and a satisfied glint in his eye, then he nodded.




He slid the vial back into the wooden rack on his desk and stood up. He turned to stare at the chalkboard hanging on the far wall and at the notes he'd written down on it earlier this sun. Delial... who worked for Banurein and wanted out. Banurein... underneath whom squirmed the lives of three Brass Blades and a hero of the Ala Mhigan Resistance.

Natalie, who had hired Askier to kidnap Roen as leverage against Gharen. Kage, who'd yet again chosen to follow the wrong role model like a lovestruck pup. Roen, who'd been taken by Askier... and by Crimson Mountain. Gharen, who'd been rescued mere bells ago from the harshest pit the Blades had.

The only reason that he, Melkire, had managed to stay ahead was something he truly believed Natalie didn't understand.

Trust.

He'd built himself a network on the theory that a group of competent professionals could be trusted as informants given the right incentive. Each individual had their price: purpose... redemption... opportunity.... He'd handed out pearls as if they'd been as hot as somnus, but only to those he had vetted personally and deemed worth the risk.

That was how he'd known that Natalie and Taeros had met earlier that sun on Pearl Lane. How he'd known that the former 'sworn were on the move. How he'd known that Kiryuu was looking for him.

Aldyet, Alexei, and Ser Crofte had been invaluable that night.

Ser Crofte... he frowned at the white marks upon the black field.  




Osric Melkire reached up to his ear as he left Wolfsong behind with the two Miqo'te, as he hit the road that led towards Scorpion's Crossing, as the 'sworn lady fell into step behind him.

"We're leavin' the site."

"Da," came Volkov's voice over the linkshell. "Vill deal vith guards vhen are far enough avay."

He let his hand drop from the small green linkpearl lodged in his ear canal, let his hand drop to his side as they walked in silence through the Crossing. He only spoke up once they neared the Gate of the Sultana.

"So... apologies, but you needed to see."

"See what, exactly?"

"Her. How she is, lately."

There was a moment of silence as they ascended the Eighty Sins of Sasamo.

"Did she murder those guards?"

"...no. She had Kage do it. Because she slipped and spoke his name."

"...and he just fell right in line. No better than the one who gave the order. Though at least he had the courage to carry through." 

He hesitated... then nodded. The disturbing similarity between their positions... his and Nat's... hadn't escaped him. Had it escaped Ser Crofte?

"Y'understand, then," he asked. 

"Aye."

Clearly, it had. He was starting to grow sick and tired of dealing with incompetent Sultansworn. Then again... maybe she was just green. Maybe she was still growing into it.

Suddenly, Tabitha's face in his mind's eye, her voice in his ear as she read to him. Stories of knights and princesses and dragons....

He turned to face Crofte as they passed through the Gate of the Sultana.

"Well. I'm accountable now. You heard what I told Alexei to do."

She just stood there. Crossed her arms. Stared at him. Spoke.

"I heard many things tonight, Ser.  Of course, sometimes the wind does blow into my ear."

He sighed in relief. At least with this one, he'd started off on the right foot. Mayhap things would be different, this time around.

He'd be hedging his bets regardless.

"Thank you, Ser."

He gave her the standard salute, which she returned promptly.

"Just let me know when we sail."

"Will do."

He turned left, headed towards the Hall.

She turned right, headed for the Palace.




He shook his head, here, now. Turned on his heel and walked out of his quarters. He needed to speak with Od'hilkas.

Osric Melkire was done with training recruits. He'd found something better to do.

RE: ...And Into The Fire (Open | OoC Welcome) - Melkire - 07-22-2014

"It's hard, bein' everyone's friend." The Coffer & Coffin with Liliana...

"My name is Kiht." Oschon's Torch, the Keeper woman...

"See, now, this is the part where we're getting in way over our heads." Castrum Occidens, Master Rosethorne...

"They likely were sendin' a message. Summat 'long the lines of, 'look, we're Blades now and actin' completely out o' character, send help'. That said... that said, sometimes the mask becomes the face." Pearl Lane, hand in hand with Aya Foxheart...

"I AM FUCKING TALKING! If you don't want to believe me, that's your problem." Aya's studio, C'kayah...

"Ser, what would constitute proof in your eyes?" "I need more than tales and guesses. Witnessed meetings or documents. Presence of foreign interest that he works for!" The office of one Ser Jenlyns...

"What does the word... 'feint' mean to you?" "Gamble." The Eyes, Barbarccia Valadis...

"Don't you dare give up on me, not after the hells we went through. Saravena needs you. Kanaria needs you. Kahn'a needs you. I need you. Don't you... don't you fuckin' dare die on us. We're your friends, and we love you, you son of a coeurl, so FIGHT IT." Crescent Cove, spoken to a flayed and broken Askier...

"I love you." Anywhere, everywhere, said to Kanaria Galanodel, over and over and...

"No harm will befall her if you obey." The railroad tracks of Thanalan, Jin'li Epinoch...

"I am under every rock."

Osric Melkire jolted awake with a cry and a grimace, startled, one hand raised against the sudden brightness that blinded him. Where was...?

The light faded, and above him stood Ser Captain Erik Mynhier. Osric gulped audibly. Right. That's right. This was Red Wings Headquarters. He'd snuck into the Goblet from Thanalan, found his way here, picked the locks on the front door, snuck downstairs, and collapsed against the staircase, fallen asleep in utter darkness. 

"...Ser."

Mynhier scowled down at him. "What are you doing here?"

Osric rubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of one arm, then pushed up and off the wall with the other as he came to a stand...

The highlander's scowl wouldn't let up. "I need to check the locks in holding too, I suppose."

"...the... the cells? At the Hall? Uh... no, ser. A, uh, a close friend helped me out... might need some masons to patch up the walls though."

The captain blinked at him. "How?"

Osric blinked back. "...boom?"

Mynhier raised a finger to his ear, activating his linkpearl. Osric's hands found their way to his face, covering it in abject horror. 

"...no need for that, ser. Please? I'm... I'm going t'turn m'self back in. I just... just need t'see to something first, ser. And I'm the only one who can. I want to end it."

Mynhier ignored him. "Was there a break?...... How?...... By the Twelve, what do you get paid for?...... No... No... No search needed, tell your commander......"

Erik Mynhier bellowed, and Osric Melkire cringed. 

"Tell him to pick up his damn pearl!"

"...assertive," Osric mumbled nervously. "That's.. that's good...."

"Ser Mynhier...... yes, that one.... no, I am not dead...... Listen.... shut your mouth and listen......"

Osric shut his mouth and listened, too. He'd broken into the man's place, after all. 

"Do you know your ass from the hole in that wall?...... I am calling it a Section 9.... do you know that one?.... Yes... very good, that means it's our investigation...... yes.... I do not care what your commander will say...."

Osric dropped his hands very, very slowly back to his sides... his mouth fell open, and his eyebrows rose... was... was he...? He snapped his mouth shut again and went back to listening.

"Not another word.... patch the wall, and next time you have a high-value prisoner you can refrain from the whores while on duty... Out."

Osric put one hand up to his mouth and bit down hard on his wrist to keep from... well, you know... laughing. A snort escaped, instead. Erik pinched the bridge of his nose...

"Sorry, ser," Osric whispered.

"I wish my men would tell me when they want to do stupid shit. Askier could have just asked and I would have told him I was releasing you tomorrow."

"I'll, ah... I'll impress that on him, ser. Took, uh... took Kahn'a and I forever just to, y'know... tone him down?"

Mynhier took a book from the shelf of a nearby bookcase. "Now I owe that ass a favor. I will make Askier patch the wall...."

"...wish I could see that..." Osric frowned as he slowly realized...

"One handed, should only take a month."

"...I can't ever go back, can I?"

"Where?"

"...Ul'dah."

Mynhier walked over to the nearby table, sat down, and began to read. "Of course you can, but not yet."

"..."

Osric took the adjacent chair and sat down. "...ser, I'm going after Jin'li. I'm going to end it. If... if I live through that... I'm yours. At your service, if you'll have me."

"Of course you are, on both."

Osric bit his lower lip and nodded firmly.

"I need sharp eyes for what is coming," Mynhier went on. "And I know the secret to sharp eyes, do you?"

"...I wouldn't dare to presume to know your answer, ser."

The captain turned his book to show Osric... "Do you read Ishgardian?"

Osric glanced at the book, then smirked. "No... but I know someone who does. Several someones, actually."

Mynhier stood for a moment, turned around and stared at the room pensively, then sat back down. He read, translating to the common tongue...

"One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will, to strive to seek to find, and not to yield."

Osric's brow furrowed in thought.

"Do you understand the meaning? Good people, who have been harmed by their fate, but who are strong enough to fight back and never give up. That would describe every person who wears this badge." 

The man laid his badge on the table. Osric looked away from it, stared down at the table top...

"I wouldn't call m'self a good person, ser. The things I was prepared to do for the sake of one over many...."

Mynhier laid a second badge down on the table. Osric glanced at it with a frown.

"I would disagree," said the captain. 

Osric looked up at him, confused. Why would he...?

"Who were you protecting?"

Osric shut his eyes against the sudden tears. "...the woman I love... he collared her too, ser."

"Did you save her? 

"Told her to make her way here, ser, the night... the night I almost... I told her, 'go to their headquarters. Stay there. Wait for Askier. He can save you.' Because, ser..." He opened his eyes and stared into those of the one man he was willing to be judged by. "I couldn't."

He very nearly choked up, but he pushed his way past the lump in his throat. "I... I couldn't, ser."

"Neither did I... but would you turn on the world?"

Melkire pinned Mynhier with his eyes.

"For her? For Kahn'a? For Askier?" He let the very soul of himself drip from his lips... "In a gods-damned heartbeat."

"Would you save it?"

"...I'd try. I'd rather die before letting others come t'harm on my account."

"So you were made weak by fate, but still strong in will."

Osric nodded, but... he glanced away...

"Natalie... Natalie brought us the reports, ser. The casualties. From the poison." He looked back. "We didn't know. They didn't. I didn't. The other night... if I'd made it into Her chambers... I was going to warn her. About me. The others. Our collars. And then... I would've said goodbye."

"You would have killed yourself."

"Yes, ser. I would have. Because after what that bastard did?" He growled. "I owed him nothing... death, maybe."

"I feel you owe him now, yes?"

"Death? Hells yes I do. And it has to be me. I know how to reach him. I know how he lives through what others can't. And he'll meet with me."

There was the sudden thump of the book snapping shut, and then it was Mynhier's turn to stare into Melkire. 

"I will offer you what I was going to tomorrow."

Osric raised an eyebrow. "Ser?"

"You take that badge, you kill this runt, but you bring me his body... can you do that?"

Osric stood... faced Ser Captain Erik Mynhier... and saluted like the Flame he still was in his heart. "Ser, yes ser!"

"For a long time, I did this alone..."

...Osric glanced down at the table one last time... then picked up the badge before turning back to the captain...

"...now I build this family to fight the storm, and I find myself behind a desk... and I find the power there even greater. Bring his body and I will see you walk the streets of Ul'dah free again."

"...I'm not going to settle for anything less. I'll, ah... knock next time. I'll need help dragging the trash in." Osric smirked.

"And for that, you will be a force, saving the women of others, and never be seen. You will be a shadow. Is that good for you? There are men at your ready with that badge, and your brothers and sisters too."

"Ser... after what I've been through, and what I might have faced in light of the 'assassination' attempt... that's not just good. That's perfect. And if it comes with family? That's even better." He saluted again, and turned to go... but Erik stopped him with a name.

"The Jewel of the Sands."

"...that it is."

"Do you know what makes a jewel have both value and strength?"

Osric Melkire glanced back one last time. "The gemcutter... and the one who polishes it with love."

"The impurity. That is the Red Wings... go."

Osric turned back to the stairs, and he rose from the depths to which he had fallen.

RE: ...And Into The Fire (Open | OoC Welcome) - Tiergan - 07-22-2014

(( Awesomely written. ))