The guards scattered before Verdan as he strode out of the council building. The raw sense of anger and betrayal that was coursing through his veins was too much for him to put to words.
The cold rain waiting for him as he walked out into the city felt apt, and a distant part of his mind noted that Barb had been waiting for him and was now trailing a few steps behind. Slowing down, he came to a stop and stared up at the sky for a moment, caught in his thoughts.
“Boss?” Barb stepped up next to him hesitantly. “Is everything okay?”
“No. Not really.” Verdan wiped the rain from his face and turned to Barb. “Do you know where Bastian is?”
“I do. Do you need me to take a message to him?”
“No, I think I need to talk to him myself. Can you guide me there?”
Barb nodded and gestured for him to follow as she led the way into the city. Turning to follow her, Verdan felt his eyes drawn to a sign claiming that the street beyond was for humans only.
“Theriad.” Verdan flicked a hand towards the sign and watched as it was wreathed in flames despite the rain. In moments, it was reduced to a pile of steaming ash that was already being washed away.
Letting out a ragged breath, Verdan followed after Barb. He needed answers from someone who didn’t work for him and wasn’t involved in it all. Bastian was a close ally, but he had his own goals and methods. He could give Verdan the perspective he needed.
-**-
Bastian had taken residence in what had once been a rundown inn just outside of the Kranjir quarter. It, along with a few damaged homes nearby, had been repaired and now housed his personal followers.
The blocky outline of the buildings and the oversized doorways reassured Verdan that at least someone had relied on the Brecan and Fwyn for help in rebuilding.
Shouting, laughing and the clamour of training came from an area just behind the inn, and the two of them circled the building to find an open area filled with Bastion’s followers. The warriors of Gwyll and Rharth were brave and courageous to a fault, which meant that they’d taken significant losses fighting against the Cyth.
Now, it looked like Bastian’s people were training new recruits and getting them up to the standard of the veteran members. To Verdan’s surprise, he saw a few Kranjir scattered among them as well. He should have expected as much though, Gwyll and Rharth were no doubt popular among a people as martial as the Kranjir.
Govannon was the patron of the northern Clans, but Verdan doubted that he was the only god worshipped in the north, just the one woven the deepest into their traditions.
The fighters present were split into two main groups, those who followed Gwyll and those who followed Rharth. The warriors of Gwyll favoured heavy armour and stood as protectors and defenders, while their counterparts favoured lighter armour and a wide array of weaponry.
“Welcome to the training, Wizard Blacke,” one of the heavily armoured followers of Gwyll called out as he jogged over. “I know you’re probably here to speak to Bastian, but I just wanted to thank you. I was at the final wall when we fought the first Host, and a Cyth Laisera tore out my throat. Without the healing medallion you’d made, I’d have died then and there. Thank you.”
Verdan had been about to ask where Bastian was, but the words died on his lips as the armoured man took off his helmet and spoke. There was a truly awful scar across his throat, one that had healed badly and unevenly.
“I’m glad that my work helped,” Verdan said, feeling suddenly off-balance. “I just wish we could have done more.”
“We can only do so much. You have to learn that early with the work we do.” The other man shrugged, his armour clattering slightly at the motion. “Forgive me, I’m taking up your time. Were you looking for the Cleric?”
“Yes, I need to talk to him,” Verdan said faintly.
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“Right, follow me then.” The man turned and led the way through the makeshift training area. A few other veterans of the fight against the Host called out greetings as Verdan went past, a few thanking him for the medallions or even the fortifications he’d made.
It was a surreal experience to have so many people thanking him or looking at him with respect, even awe in some cases. By the time they made it inside, the whole ordeal had taken on a somewhat dreamlike quality, and Verdan only snapped out of it once he was ushered into a candle-lit study where Bastian was hard at work. Barb said something about getting some food while he was busy, and then he was alone with the Cleric.
Bastian was a powerful magic user, a skilled fighter and, as far as Verdan knew, the leader of the surviving Clerics. Right now, though, he was simply a man in plain clothes writing letters and reading reports.
“Verdan?” Bastian glanced up, his mismatched eyes bright in the candlelight. “I wasn’t expecting you. Please, take a seat. I just need to finish this letter.”
“Of course, take your time. I know I’ve dropped in unannounced.” Verdan hesitated in the process of taking a seat. “In fact, if this is a bad time…”
“No need for that, I always have time for you,” Bastian said, finishing the letter and scattering sand across it to speed its drying. “All done. I’ll call for an attendant to send this, and then we can talk. Can I get you anything to drink, I’ll be having a coffee.”
“Coffee sounds perfect.”
Bastian nodded and got up, dusting the now dry letter clean before folding it away and opening the door to the hall. A brief conversation and the letter was on its way, with the attendant promising to stop by the kitchen and order them some coffee.
Bastian sank into his seat with a slight groan of relief. “Ah. That’s better. I’ve been hunched over writing for too many hours today. Now, what seems to be bothering you?”
“You can tell I’m bothered?”
Bastian snorted, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a smile. “With respect, Verdan, you’re a very single-minded person. You don’t socialise much, so if you’re here, it’s because you either need my expertise or my advice.”
Verdan laughed despite himself. “I’d love to say you’re wrong, but I know how I am. Truthfully, a bit of what I wanted to talk about has already been answered just by coming here. For the rest, you might need some context.”
Bastian held up a finger to pause the explanation as the door opened and a young lad came in with two mugs of coffee. Taking his, Bastian sipped at it before motioning for Verdan to continue. “I have several hours if needed, so what context do I need?”
Verdan took a hefty sip of his coffee, letting it chase away the lingering cold of the rain outside. Verdan let himself simply enjoy the sensation for a moment before placing the mug down and launching into the explanation of his current standing with the city council.
Verdan explained it all, everything that had happened, from Tobias offering him the position through to Edward Hobson’s distaste for him and how they blamed him for much of what had happened.
Bastian listened carefully, asking a few questions when relevant to expand on some of what Verdan had said. He passed no judgement though, and kept any comments to a minimum. It felt good to just talk it all through, to not have to hold anything back about the Brotherhood or his activities. The only thing Bastian didn’t know about was Verdan being from the Grym Imperium, and while he was slowly becoming more open with that information, he wasn’t ready to share yet.
Dirk, Sinead and Magnus had their fates bound to Verdan’s in a way that Bastian didn’t, and while Verdan trusted the Cleric, he knew that the man’s loyalties lay elsewhere. Of course, it was possible that Bastian knew already with his connection to the gods, but Verdan didn’t think so.
Coming to the end of his explanation, Verdan trailed off and took a sip of his coffee. “And here I am, straight from that meeting.”
Bastian nodded slowly, rubbing his jaw in thought as he did. “I wasn’t aware that things were quite so strained between you and the council. None of this is good, I can agree with that. So, now that I know the context, what did you want to know?”
Verdan felt a cold knot of anxiety form in his gut as he spoke in little more than a whisper. “Are they right? Have I made things worse with what I’ve done?”
Bastian was silent for a long moment as he stared at Verdan, his mismatched gaze seeming to look right inside Verdan to that anxiety within. “A profound question, and one that I am surprised that you came to me with. I’ve not been here from the beginning, I’ve not seen the city as it was before you arrived.”
“True, but I know we are on the same side, and I can trust that you understand the full implications of it all.” Verdan paused before smiling slightly. “And I know you have more backbone and moral fibre than the whole council put together. If what I’m doing is causing more ill than good, you’d tell me it straight.”
“Somehow I think that’s more of an insult to them than a compliment to me, but I’ll take it all the same.” Bastian chuckled slightly before turning sombre and tapping next to his grey eye. “Do you know how I got this?”
“Your eye?” Verdan asked, confused by the question.
“The colour of my eye.” Bastian corrected him before finishing his coffee and setting it aside. “Clearly I haven’t had this talk with you already if you don’t know what I mean immediately.”
“I’m afraid that I don’t.” Verdan paused, wondering where the Cleric was going with this. “Do you mean you weren’t born that way?”
“Not at all, I had two blue eyes when I was born,” Bastian said, his gaze turning distant and a deep sadness settling onto his features. “Let me tell you about my sister, and how I became what I am today.”
