|
|
Post by Bixir on Mar 16, 2023 7:42:44 GMT
The air outside hissed, filled with the bitter dregs of older things. Here, even within the confines of the carriage, one could feel that influence with every third breath. It was a persistent grasp on one’s faculties, from physical fatigue to errant thoughts. Even those who lacked that mystery, like the chauffeur, could feel its eerie presence, however faintly. For Pages, and those destined for that profession, this experience followed them everywhere in the realm. In Värgen, the sickly Wyrd was most strongly concentrated. The known maladies of its nature barred any mundane folk from staying in the town overlong. Every resident within its walls were, in one way or another, familiar with the arcane. Just so, every resident was also hardy enough to weather the harshest winter. Whether its latest student would be able to meet these expectations remained to be seen. Värgen itself also remained to be seen. Though the carriage’s curtains were drawn, this vehicle had been outfitted with secure plates to keep its passengers in the dark. It was protocol for all traveling to Värgen. The secrecy of the institution allowed the Pages to exist as they did. Inside the carriage, Edwin nor the man sitting opposite him had much in the way of comfort. The seating, while luxurious at some point, had seen years of wear and tear. The carriage’s metal frame, compounded by the fitted plates, provided little warmth. The only light that they had was a scarce flame, ensconced in a pristine orb. The other man had lit it when they had begun this journey, and it burned still. The embers danced as if alive, sending flickering shadows across the compact room that had been their home for the past several days; perhaps longer (or shorter) if Edwin cared to track the time. Edwin’s companion had been mostly silent on this journey, such was his nature. Those that knew him, knew him for two things: one, that he was “The Viscount”, and two, that he was an Inquisitor of significant repute. His presence here, enigmatic as it was, meant something.  The Viscount stared ahead, not quite at Edwin directly, though nowhere else, either. He, like many of his trade, was layered in cloaks upon cloaks, heavy straps of cloth that dressed him like a mummy of black leather, imperceptible as anything but a shadow of a man. The visage of the Viscount was itself a quiet display: brimmed hat, thick mask, and even eyepatch covering any human facsimile that one may find kinship with. The Inquisitors had no need for such things, least of all him. |
|
|
|
Post by Firelizard on Feb 8, 2024 2:45:47 GMT
Edwin’s eyes tracked across the leathery periphery of the carriage, watching as they jumped to and fro as the wheels of the vehicle crept slowly with each bound of their equine engines. It could have been going twenty paces a second or little more than one. At least one of its passengers cared little, or had little interest in perceiving it. A sense of distance and the speed at which they traversed it had lost all meaning over the last few days. The long haired boy fought valiantly to keep down the luxurious meal of bread and broth that his near silent companion had provided earlier in the morning as the wheels once again crunched sickeningly against an obstacle in the road. He forced down the slight gag that rolled up his torso and seemingly into his shoulders, pushing both the meal down and his back against what might have been the most uncomfortable seat in all the land. Really, whomever had built the carriage should be recognized for how much work they must have put in to make it so. Though in Edwin’s opinion, they deserved a quick kick in the buttocks as opposed to any ribbon or medal.
“Inquisitor, if...if I may ask…how much longer before we reach our destination?”
The haughty affectation that Edwin had started his question with died in his throat as a deferential query. He tried to meet the gaze of the almost inhuman Inquisitor that he had had the misfortune of sharing the cabin with for so many days. The heavily layered suit of armor had spoken little since they had first met, though his menacing aura had done more than enough to fill in any gaps his noble passenger might have wished to fill in as the boredom of traveling on the road set in. Edwin’s eyes tried to rest upon the optical black holes in his passenger’s helmet before giving way to the fear deep in their owner’s chest. He tore away from what he thought might have been eye contact to track the shadows on the wall of the carriage once more. He still faced the armored creature seated across from him, but Edwin kept him more in the periphery of his field of vision. His arms rested upon the wooden helm of his leather and wooden seat, fingers tapping almost restlessly against the carriage’s surfaces as he fought down both fear and the urge to heave up what little food remained in his stomach. Stories and rumors had always circulated amongst the circles of the nobility. Stories recounted in hushed tones about just how dangerous and powerful the Inquisitors could be. Full and brimming with danger for even those who styled themselves the most powerful in the realm. Or at least as powerful as they were when not sharing a throne room or banquet hall with the King himself. Edwin did not want to find out how dangerous an Inquisitor could be when in the same space as one who had decorated their armor with chunks of half digested and still somehow stale bread.
|
|
