{
(display: "value reset")
}(text-style: "condense")[Romance. Redemption. Revenge.]
(text-style: "expand")[S p l i n t e r - the - M o o n]
This interactive novels makes use of replaceable text, colored (color: "#99CCFF")[''blue'']. 16+ - Content warning for {
(set: $beginningcw to (a: "abuse", "assault", "blood", "trauma"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $beginningcw's 1st)]<cw|")[(replace: ?cw)[(set: $beginningcw to (rotated: -1, ...$beginningcw))(print: $beginningcw's 1st)]]
}.
==>
[[Continue->beginning]]
<==
He cannot sleep. For all his {
(set: $beginning1a to (a: "silks and velvets", "feather mattresses", "otter furs"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $beginning1a's 1st)]<prince11|")[(replace: ?prince11)[(set: $beginning1a to (rotated: -1, ...$beginning1a))(print: $beginning1a's 1st)]]
}, his body can find no warmth. The winter night has stolen away his peace and his spirit. There is a disquiet about his cavernous chambers.
The lamp will not light. He strikes the enchanted flint four times, to no avail. Every spark is swallowed whole, as if something invisible were plucking at them with two merciless fingers.
Something moans, outside, from his balcony. The heavy double doors glide open, revealing an ever growing sliver of light.
His heart is a shuddering lump of ice. The moon is {
(set: $beginning1b to (a: "swollen", "ghoulish", "cadaverous"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $beginning1b's 1st)]<prince12|")[(replace: ?prince12)[(set: $beginning1b to (rotated: -1, ...$beginning1b))(print: $beginning1b's 1st)]]
}, slanting a sick gray light over him in his bed. A silhouette looms over his balcony. As if through a moving lens, the light of the moon narrows onto her face, revealing pale, wild eyes, a hungry look, a halo of black hair.
She is all at once strange and familiar, pitiful and terrifying. A long thin finger presses to her lips, and the mumurings begin, censuring, deriding, terrorizing. He find he can no longer draw breath, his lungs fluttering like tattered flags. All he can see are her eyes, alien, (text-style: "blur")[angry, awful. The whispers reach a discordant roar, a tidal wave of torment. There] (text-style: "blurrier")[is something in her hand, something blacker than night, sharp as a void, slick as oil.]
She puts on the Jagged Mask.
==>
[[Continue->Nanette's missive]]
<==
Though the baskets are heavy, it takes them mere minutes to unpack and prepare. The winter air is {
(set: $barracks1a to (a: "challenging", "stinging", "disrupting"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $barracks1a's 1st)]<evren11|")[(replace: ?evren11)[(set: $barracks1a to (rotated: -1, ...$barracks1a))(print: $barracks1a's 1st)]]
}, but the warmth of the outdoor hearth keeps them cheerful. Noemi carves through hard cheese with her knife, passing out thick golden slices. Wes retrieves cups of cider warmed by the hearth. There is hearty bread, dried (either: "cherries", "apricots", "pears"), a bit of chewy beef, and applesauce from Josef's mother. The soldiers eat with great appreciation, jovial at first but soon preoccupied with the meal.
They form a semi-circle, with the Tower of Dawn at their apex. She has tried to dissuade this sort of behavior—she'd been a soldier once, too, and all that distinguishes her, really, is once receiving an award at a party. But the more she defaulted to humility the more they crowded to her. She could only give a beleaguered smile, throw up her hands, and focus on other trainable moments.
"It's so quiet," Ruth mutters, struggling to regain control of her yellow hair from a stray breeze. "I didn't know it could //be// this quiet."
"We might move to the Palace with the others," Yong suggests, voice smothered by his thick muffler. "I don't think the five of us alone can properly maintain a fortification all winter."
"There are six of us," the Tower corrects him, smile evident in her low voice.
Ruth makes a dismissive noise, then colors. "Begging your pardon."
"Only five of us are suited to cleaning a barracks," Yong continues, tactful.
"My title doesn't prevent me from carrying a mop. Besides—" the hero exhales in a gust, her breath misting in an instant. "The Palace was built to distract nobles and mages, they weren't meant for soldiers. We only have seven months to train for the Summer Crowns and I hope to see one of you earn your title."
Glances shoot through the air between them. Silence falls, colder than the {
(set: $barracks1b to (a: "stone walls", "bare earth", "iron-grey sky"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $barracks1b's 1st)]<evren12|")[(replace: ?evren12)[(set: $barracks1b to (rotated: -1, ...$barracks1b))(print: $barracks1b's 1st)]]
} around them.
"What's—" the Tower begins, and stops herself, frowning.
//The Golden Lord was absent from this year's Summer Crowns. No new heroes were titled.//
==>
[[Continue->Evren's missive2]]
<==
Kajsa Norling takes the steaming mug in both hands. "How'd you know?" She whispers.
The coffee-house owner, a thick woman with thicker eyebrows, winks at her. "Only the best for my players."
She could be a hedgewitch or something—seems like everyone was, these days. Kajsa cools the coffee anyway, carefully sipping from under her bushy fake mustache. She only has a few lines until her next cue.
"'Nother hero play?" The owner asks, neutral. Kajsa grunts. The bigger woman gives a small shake of her head before disappearing off-stage. She had her own cues to prepare for before opening.
"{
(set: $play1a to (a: "Your soft body will feed my ravenous young", "I will deeply enjoy devouring your pure flesh", "Your fear only makes this feast all the richer"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $play1a's 1st)]<gravy1|")[(replace: ?gravy1)[(set: $play1a to (rotated: -1, ...$play1a))(print: $play1a's 1st)]]
}," comes a rumbling roar from the stage. Kajsa hurries to find a safe place for her mug among the props and discarded costumes.
"But I know the hero will save me!"
Kajsa steps from behind the heavy curtain, flourishing with her stick (it's //almost// sword-like, Cumberton had assured her, but not enough to raise a fuss with the helmets). Trapped by a large man called Gravy in terrible face paint, their starlet Silessa draws the back of her hand across her forehead, eyelids fluttering.
"{
(set: $play1b to (a: "Sweet virgin", "Beautiful dove", "My promised bride", "Delicate heart"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $play1b's 1st)]<gravy2|")[(replace: ?gravy2)[(set: $play1b to (rotated: -1, ...$play1b))(print: $play1b's 1st)]]
}!" Kajsa begins in her deepest stage voice, and already that sick feeling wells up in her stomach.
Silessa squeals, arms out, just like they've practiced.
Kajsa leads with her heel, falling into a theatrical tumble. "Oops!" The not-sword flies from her hand, hits Gravy in the head with a thick //swack//, already leaves a reddening welt. "You there! Beast!" She scrambles to her feet and puffs out her chest. "Only a filthy peasant would dare unarm a hero! Hands up!"
"Kajsa—" Cumberton starts from off-stage. She's practiced at ignoring him.
"Oh my!" She tumbles again, face first into Silessa's billowing chest. "A reward, so soon?" Silessa's careful mask falls away and she glowers down at her. Kajsa contorts her face into a ridiculous leer, twitching her mustache.
"Kajsa!" Heavy footfalls. Cumberton's out and marching up on her.
==>
[[Continue->Kajsa's missive2]]
<==
"And you're very certain you don't want to come out?"
There's no answer this time. The mage frowns, nimble fingers tapping out a rhythm on the door handle. "Your Highness, shall I have your meals delivered here instead of your chamber?" More silence, punctuated by footsteps, growing closer. "I only mean that Your Highness won't be as comfortable in his study, compared to his bedchamb—"
The red enamel doors open, just a crack, splitting the field of inlay stars in half. A white hand, bare of rings, passes three envelopes through. "That will be all." His usually bold voice wavers. "Thank you, Nanette." His study is sealed again with a resonating //thud.//
Nanette Bellerose fingers the sharp corners of the envelopes, inspecting their outward purpose. //Convey to the Royal Solcaster//, //the Tower of Dawn//, //the Roseate Player//. With a beleaguered sigh, she stows away in a sleeve's pocket. //Now I'm just an overestimated messenger.// It was still better than any other position in the Court of Stars. At least it seems he'll have no futher use of her today. She will need to find a quiet place to read her missive.
The curved heels of her shoes tap a quiet rhythm on the palace's shining floors. Her passage warrants barely a nod or a "Morning, Solcaster" from the other courtiers she passes. She doesn't mind a little solitude, though the sting of the snub still makes her wince. When she was a girl, any of the palace's Solcasters would have demanded a stop-and-bow, at least.
But she's not a girl anymore, and all the old Solcasters have been replaced.
The crowd is thinning. The great doors to the palace hall are ajar, enough for two people travelling abreast to pass through. She doesn't expect much of a gathering, languishing as they all are between social meals. Only a few courtiers remain here, chattering to each other. There's a hero with them, obvious in his improbable golden armor, enormous ceremonial weapon, cavalier expression, rowdy laughter. Nannete's heard stories about this one, the one with the (either: "oiled bronze filigree on his pauldron", "red hawk on his breastplate", "missing finger on his left hand"). {
(set: $palace1a to (a: "The ladies-in-waiting thought they were being quiet", "Christelle thought she'd covered all the bruises", "The Prince had chided his indiscretion many times"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $palace1a's 1st)]<nanette11|")[(replace: ?nanette11)[(set: $palace1a to (rotated: -1, ...$palace1a))(print: $palace1a's 1st)]]
}. She marks safe passage out of his line of sight, meticulously avoiding eye-contact.
The weak winter sun is still brightest in here, diffused through the thick glass ceiling. The royal seats sit empty for the time, two built of carefully polished gold and yellow quartz, the third draped in an elegant, dusty sheet.
//If the Queen were still here,// she muses, and stops herself. The Prince would have no need of an advisor. Not only would she be out a job, but she'd lose what social protection being his Solcaster afforded her. She can't afford to lose the barrier between herself and her past.
==>
[[Continue->Nanette's missive2]]
<==
The royal vault is a legend in itself, built to imprison other myths and tales. Rarely does anyone in the court have an excuse to visit—a desire to see the artifacts inside could easily be interpreted as {
(set: $theft1a to (a: "blasphemous", "perverse", "treasonous"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $theft1a's 1st)]<theft11|")[(replace: ?theft11)[(set: $theft1a to (rotated: -1, ...$theft1a))(print: $theft1a's 1st)]]
}. They are locked away under the palace grounds for a reason. Too powerful to destroy, too wicked to set free.
What's inside? Those chosen to guard will spin impossible stories: (either: "a book bound in suspicious leather that compells one to finish it with their own blood", "a scroll for the instruction of fusing unwilling souls into tormented abominations"); (either: "a matte-black dagger that severs memories as easily as arteries", "a longsword of tarnished silver that feeds on souls—especially that of its wielder"); (either: "a cloudy mirror that displays only a barren gray hellscape", "a bleached dog's skull that whispers secrets into one's mind until they are left gibbering and mad"). Mere toys of the Wolf God, the Mooneater, deliberately left behind to torment the people and erode their bonds to Vethr Fulnir, the God of the Sun.
The Mask is here, too—the crown of the Wolf's most unhallowed devotees, the Witch-General's mark of service. The Jagged Mask is cut from a single piece of {
(set: $theft1b to (a: "eerie", "slick", "fel"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $theft1b's 1st)]<theft12|")[(replace: ?theft12)[(set: $theft1b to (rotated: -1, ...$theft1b))(print: $theft1b's 1st)]]
} obsidian, brilliant though it rejects all light. The last it was worn was nearly a century ago, and when Lisasiel fell, the armies of the Kingdom of Stars bore her hateful raiment safely to the vault, where it has lain in safety and silence for many years.
But another Wolves' Night is fast approaching, and this darkest of times makes superstitious children of everyone. Rumors ripple through the palace of unexpected changes to the guard roster—especially in patrols of the royal vault. Many scoff at these unfounded tales, insist they were crafted to stir up a few laughs at the expense of someone else's terror. Their derision is welcome; the Prince asks for discretion. {
(set: $firstchoice to (a: "The Royal Solcaster", "The Tower of Dawn", "The Roseate Player"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $firstchoice's 1st)]<choice|")[(replace: ?choice)[(set: $firstchoice to (rotated: -1, ...$firstchoice))(print: $firstchoice's 1st)]]
} makes preparations for her protection of the Mask.
==>
[Continue]<continue| (click: ?continue)[(display: "firstchoice")]
<==
On the first night, she was alarming. On the second, she was a curiosity. By the third night, she's worn out her welcome—the three other mages are no longer pleased to see her.
Nanette has never been one for small talk. It's inefficient; it makes a mockery of true intimacy; she never knows what to say. The royal vault consumes their silence, the bound artifacts sizing them up in mute hatred. They have no eyes but Nanette can feel them on her regardless, {
(set: $nanettevault1a to (a: "searching for weakness", "preserving their strength", "waiting for a chance"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $nanettevault1a's 1st)]<nanette11|")[(replace: ?nanette11)[(set: $nanettevault1a to (rotated: -1, ...$nanettevault1a))(print: $nanettevault1a's 1st)]]
}.
Maybe if she'd been born an orator, things would have gone differently. But the time for first impressions is gone, and there is nothing left but to keep her back to them, and betray nothing.
"This light is awful, terrible for my skin treatment." Her name is Marian, a court mage, hired by one of the lower officiaries. She has obsessed over her skin during every shift. "Look," she orders, thrusting an arm out of her sleeve. Her companion, a bird-like man with a ridiculously feathered headress, nods with sympathy.
"Maybe the Solcaster can just take over for us," the third suggests in a polished voice. All of them twitter.
They think she's pompous, only taking these shifts to outperform them. //This is only until the Wolves' Night, and by then they'll surely have cycled out of the roster.//
"Oh, but we can't tax her too much," Marian argues in a voice {
(set: $nanettevault1b to (a: "low enough to be considered discreet", "loud enough to still be heard"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $nanettevault1b's 1st)]<nanette12|")[(replace: ?nanette12)[(set: $nanettevault1b to (rotated: -1, ...$nanettevault1b))(print: $nanettevault1b's 1st)]]
}. "I heard the poor thing could only attend Ivory Academy."
"Not Miserly Ivory!" The bird man snorts.
"Yes! Can you imagine?" The voices grow closer—they're crowding near. She can still leave via the stone stairs if she must. "Poor Miss Bellerose. She must feel out of her element, advising princes instead of fixing merchant wagons."
She breathes slowly, in and out, stretching magic organs, touching the tiny sun glowing just below her chest. Throat. Lungs. Heart. Warmth spreads from just under her tongue and down into her chest, fades like a tide, and surges again.
"But that explains your coming to court, doesn't it, Miss Bellerose?" Asks the third in an oily tone. //Addressing me personally. They're escalating. It's the stairs or a fight, soon.// "After all, you must be attending to your Prince's //every// need."
==>
[[Continue->nanette and thief2]]
<==
"And (either: "Ace", "Queen", "Seven") of (either: "Bells", "Roses", "Acorns", "Shields") takes the (either: "stack", "trick", "pile", "pot")." Ruth slaps the card down with a grin that grows wider at the moans of her competitors.
"That's the fourth hand in a row," Josef whines. "We ought to check her sleeves."
Her teeth flash in the {
(set: $evrenvault1a to (a: "harsh", "fiery", "sharp"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault1a's 1st)]<evren11|")[(replace: ?evren11)[(set: $evrenvault1a to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault1a))(print: $evrenvault1a's 1st)]]
} light of the vault. The cards flicker in Wes's hands as he shuffles. "Your fault for asking her to play," he comments dryly.
"Deal her out," Josef insists, and looks up to his commander. "Ma'am, care to join in the next hand?"
The Tower of Dawn shakes her head, softening the rejection with a smile. "I'm afraid I don't have the head for cards."
"Too honest," Ruth agrees, giving Josef a wicked look.
Only {
(set: $evrenvault1b to (a: "the fluttering of playing cards", "the quiet creak of boiled leather", "the occasional clink of metal arms"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault1b's 1st)]<evren12|")[(replace: ?evren12)[(set: $evrenvault1b to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault1b))(print: $evrenvault1b's 1st)]]
}, and the Tower can hear her own heart's steady beats. Chunks of yellow quartz flood the dusty room with artificial sunlight, golden mirrors concentrating the beams over each individual artifact. Everyone studiously avoids looking at the cursed items, their eyes slipping off them like water off a stone.
"Have you been watch here before, ma'am?" Noemi asks her quietly. They both stand at ease facing the entrance—(either: "Garners", "Slapstack", "Sachet") is for four players only.
The hero nods. "Twice."
"Does it always feel—" The younger woman grasps for the words. "Haunted?"
"It does feel haunted," Yong speaks up, the first he's spoken in some time. "I've been trying to identify it. It feels like a ghost house."
//But the ghosts will never appear in the sun.// The Tower reflexively pops the knuckles of her sword hand. It was the third night of monitoring the vault, and neither her team nor Advisor Bellerose's mages had noticed any malicious activity.
Another moment of uneasy silence stretches between them all. "Can you believe I was already invited to some lord's banquet earlier?" Ruth speaks up, as she always does. "Was hard to think of a reason to decline." Josef snorts a little.
"Lord $lordpartyname? I was too, actually." The Tower brightens some at the memory. "It was a shame to turn him down, I don't think I've ever been extended the honor."
Her team looks at each other, {
(set: $evrenvault1c to (a: "uncertainty", "chagrin", "discord"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault1c's 1st)]<evren13|")[(replace: ?evren13)[(set: $evrenvault1c to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault1c))(print: $evrenvault1c's 1st)]]
} on their faces.
==>
[[Continue->evren and thief2]]
<==
It's been three nights now and still no one has caught her. The rosters were the hard part—tracking them down, forging all the right shifts, replacing them with none the wiser. But the acting is a breeze—careful costume, a fake name, a smirk and a swagger. No one's thought to question her.
//Who knew it was so easy to fake heroism,// Kajsa muses, squatting on her heels, tapping a tricky rhythm on her knees. //They haven't even checked my empty scabbard yet.//
A fine plan, all on her own. Anything to avoid seeing the Prince directly.
There's another shift change in a few minutes. Another {
(set: $kajsavault1b to (a: "cocky hero and her fivesome", "haughty group of mages"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $kajsavault1b's 1st)]<kajsa12|")[(replace: ?kajsa12)[(set: $kajsavault1b to (rotated: -1, ...$kajsavault1b))(print: $kajsavault1b's 1st)]]
}. Kajsa is welcome for it—the royal vault is stuffy and strange, the harsh magical sunlight eye-watering, the company {
(set: $kajsavault1c to (a: "questionable", "repulsive", "infuriating"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $kajsavault1c's 1st)]<kajsa13|")[(replace: ?kajsa13)[(set: $kajsavault1c to (rotated: -1, ...$kajsavault1c))(print: $kajsavault1c's 1st)]]
}. No one's reached for the Mask, so much as even glanced at it. It's black and sharp and awful, sitting in a beam of concentrated sun, and looking at it too long gives her a headache.
"And I said, little bird, you should be paying //me//!" Raucous laughter pierces her thoughts. The other guards are laughing, the two mages looking politely chagrined and hiding snickers behind their hands. Fulgent Reign elbows her, gives her a bawdy wink. "When $kajsafakename gets his title, he'll figure it out."
"$kajsafakename" gives him a wink in return, her stomach souring.
"You'll be surprised how much you start gettin' for free." The hero chuckles to himself, emptying the rest of his pint glass.
//Especially when you take it.// (text-style: "blur")[Black fog creeps] along the edge of her vision. She thinks about the bone needles she's carefully hidden in her gloves. It's been a very long three nights.
"But surely the stories of you and the Lady $reignwoman can't be true," the smaller of the mages insists, coy, his hairless greasy face shining in the false sun.
Kajsa glances at the stairs, racking her brain for an excuse to (text-style: "blur")[leave].
"$reignwoman? Oh, the Chief Herald's bird." Reign shrugs, affectedly casual. "A man's gotta keep a better eye on his woman, that's all. Especially if wine's gonna fuddle her like that."
(text-style: "blur")[She's on her feet. There's a deadly sliver of bone between her fingers. She can see the base of his skull. It'll be just like practice—throwing needles into slaughtered hogs.] //That's how this ends,// (text-style: "blur")[she hears the whispers in her head.] //$kajsafakename kills him, Kajsa runs back to the Players, and she escapes the city.// (text-style: "blurrier")[Only, she can barely see through the fog.]
==>
[[Continue->kajsa and thief2]]
<==
//Lord Pender,
Your decision to weather winter away from the Palace of Stars has proven the poor one. I hope this letter finds you well, if it finds you at all. If I fail to see you this winter, I will search in the spring and the summer—but never the afterlife!
It is now impossible to make one's way through the city back to the palace. Not only is every rustic encamped at every gate, menacing any who cross the walls before them, but the things that drove them from the city patrol its streets. Black miracles, some have called them. Poor souls long dead, tormented into further service of some unseen sorceror—and weeks now with these dark clouds blotting out the sky, weakening the Sun so that even these creatures no longer fear it!
Some say a new Witch-General has risen. Though not I. There's no proof, of course. Some point to supposedly dark portents. I heard it from my lady that (if: $nanette_act1 is true)[one of the Royal Solcasters, the Prince's own advisor,](if: $evren_act1 is true)[the Tower of Dawn, a decorated hero,](if: $kajsa_act1 is true)[a charlatan] was found unconscious in the Royal Vault the night before the sky went dark. (unless: $kajsa_act1 is true)[Many are the courtiers that press around her bedside, waiting for her to wake and assure us that all is well.] But what are we to make of this incident? (if: $kajsa_act1 is true)[Why is this mysterious charlatan not in any of the empty dungeon cells?] Are we to expect to see the Rampart Darkling in the skies any day now? The King spends all his resources in tracking this wayward necromancer, and I am to trust a woman's fears over the King's wisdom?
(if: $kajsa_act1 is true)[You have missed the hero Fulgent Reign's memorial, my friend. He was killed defending the palace when the first of the dead began to rise. He was commended to the blazing skies with honors. My poor lady $reignwoman was too sick to attend—the delicate dear, apparently I cannot forgive her enough for her past transgressions! Fulgent Reign and I had long since reconciled the event. Ah!](if: $nanette_act1 is true)[You have missed a most elegant memorial for one of the court's esteemed mages, my friend. A miss Marian Alvey was wafted into the brilliant skies on fragant smoke. She was killed defending the palace when the first of the dead began to rise.](if: $evren_act1 is true)[You have missed a most enthusiastic awards ceremony for a team of young heroes-in-training. Though half of them are still in recovery, all five of them met the risen abominations in the palace with fire and valiance! Those present had the air of noble misery, as their very own commander is the brave Tower of Dawn, still these weeks senseless in a sickbed.] How many more will we lose this dark winter? I urge you to find where is safe, and remain there. May the Golden Lord illuminate your path.
Your friend in tribulation,
Lord $lordpartyname//
==>
[[End of Act 1]]
<==
-----
Debug:
''Passage'': (print: (passage:)'s name)
''Nanette'':
(link-repeat: "Add a scene")[(set: $nanette_scenes to it + 1)]
(link-repeat: "Remove a scene")[(set: $nanette_scenes to it - 1)]
Nanette scenes: (print: $nanette_scenes)
[Nanette in Act 1]<nact1| [Nanette in Act 2]<nact2| [Nanette in Act 3]<nact3| (click: ?nact1)[(set: $nanette_act1 to true, $evren_act1 to false, $kajsa_act1 to false)] (click: ?nact2)[(set: $nanette_act2 to true, $evren_act2 to false, $kajsa_act2 to false)] (click: ?nact3)[(set: $nanette_act3 to true, $evren_act3 to false, $kajsa_act3 to false)]
(if: $nanette_act1 is true)[Nanette Act 1 flag active.] (if: $nanette_act2 is true)[Nanette Act 2 flag active.] (if: $nanette_act3 is true)[Nanette Act 3 flag active.]
''Evren'':
(link-repeat: "Add a scene")[(set: $evren_scenes to it + 1)]
(link-repeat: "Remove a scene")[(set: $evren_scenes to it - 1)]
Evren scenes: (print: $evren_scenes)
[Evren in Act 1]<eact1| [Evren in Act 2]<eact2| [Evren in Act 3]<eact3| (click: ?eact1)[(set: $evren_act1 to true, $nanette_act1 to false, $kajsa_act1 to false)] (click: ?eact2)[(set: $evren_act2 to true, $nanette_act2 to false, $kajsa_act2 to false)] (click: ?eact3)[(set: $evren_act3 to true, $nanette_act3 to false, $kajsa_act3 to false)]
(if: $evren_act1 is true)[Evren Act 1 flag active.] (if: $evren_act2 is true)[Evren Act 2 flag active.] (if: $evren_act3 is true)[Evren Act 3 flag active.]
''Kajsa'':
(link-repeat: "Add a scene")[(set: $kajsa_scenes to it + 1)]
(link-repeat: "Remove a scene")[(set: $kajsa_scenes to it - 1)]
Kajsa scenes: (print: $kajsa_scenes)
[Kajsa in Act 1]<kact1| [Kajsa in Act 2]<kact2| [Kajsa in Act 3]<kact3| (click: ?kact1)[(set: $kajsa_act1 to true, $nanette_act1 to false, $evren_act1 to false)] (click: ?kact2)[(set: $kajsa_act2 to true, $nanette_act2 to false, $evren_act2 to false)] (click: ?kact3)[(set: $kajsa_act3 to true, $nanette_act3 to false, $evren_act3 to false)]
(if: $kajsa_act1 is true)[Kajsa Act 1 flag active.] (if: $kajsa_act2 is true)[Kajsa Act 2 flag active.] (if: $kajsa_act3 is true)[Kajsa Act 3 flag active.]
(if: $firstchoice's 1st is "The Royal Solcaster")[(go-to: "nanette and thief")]
(if: $firstchoice's 1st is "The Tower of Dawn")[(go-to: "evren and thief")]
(if: $firstchoice's 1st is "The Roseate Player")[(go-to: "kajsa and thief")]
(if: $salutations's 1st is "the Royal Solcaster")[(go-to: "Nanette's missive")]
(if: $salutations's 1st is "the Tower of Dawn")[(go-to: "Evren's missive")]
(if: $salutations's 1st is "the Roseate Player")[(go-to: "Kajsa's missive")]
Kajsa recovers herself and her stick, adjusting Silessa's bodice for her. "What's wrong? Aren't we doing (either: "'The Ballad of Stalwart Shield'", "'The Legend of Iron Heart'", "'The Hero and His Pious Love'")? I thought you wanted a little more realism in this one." She swears she can hear the coffee-house owner snort from behind her counter.
The stage shakes with Cumberton's sigh. "How's the head, Gravy?" The big man fusses in response, rubbing his head, smearing his face paint.
"I guess //Kajsa// decided we're not doing any more hero plays," Silessa snaps.
"Maybe I'm sick of heroes." {
(set: $play2a to (a: "She wants to sound calmer than that", "She snarls more than scoffs", "She can't keep the anger out"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $play2a's 1st)]<kajsa1|")[(replace: ?kajsa1)[(set: $play2a to (rotated: -1, ...$play2a))(print: $play2a's 1st)]]
}. "What about a morality play? (either: "'The Wolf at the Crossroads'", "'Why the Sun Sleeps in Winter'", "'Vethr Fulnir and the Wolf's Temptations'")? People would eat that stuff up with Wolves' Night so soon."
Cumberton rubs his forehead with two stubby fingers. "//People// don't pay in gold talons. Heroes //do//, and they want //hero plays//."
The door opens, glass chimes ringing softly.
"We'll just have to recast Kajsa." Cumberton's voice begins to drift away. Her gaze settles across the dim room, over empty tables and chairs. "Silessa, don't you have a cousin who's—"
{
(set: $play2b to (a: "Long dark sleeve", "Long dark robe", "Long dark eyes"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $play2b's 1st)]<kajsa2|")[(replace: ?kajsa2)[(set: $play2b to (rotated: -1, ...$play2b))(print: $play2b's 1st)]]
}. A {
(set: $play2c to (a: "gentle", "gaunt", "gracious"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $play2c's 1st)]<kajsa3|")[(replace: ?kajsa3)[(set: $play2c to (rotated: -1, ...$play2c))(print: $play2c's 1st)]]
} face, elegantly painted to disguise a lack of eyelashes and eyebrows. Wisps of shorn red hair under a {
(set: $play2d to (a: "beautiful", "modest", "delicate"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $play2d's 1st)]<kajsa4|")[(replace: ?kajsa4)[(set: $play2d to (rotated: -1, ...$play2d))(print: $play2d's 1st)]]
} headdress, modeled to look as though a white hawk had taken her head under its wing.
Mage. Definitely. Kajsa peers at her, even as she hears herself mutter "You can't recast me, I'm the heart of the Roseates."
The mage sweeps up to the counter, intercepted by the owner. Kajsa watches their lips move. //"I'm here to deliver a missive from the Court of Stars." "What's the Court doing here?" "Please, I must deliver this to the Roseate Player." "Begging your pardon, but there's five of them."//
The sick feeling in her stomach (text-style: "blur")[grows teeth and jaws, reaches up and squeezes her heart.]
==>
[[Continue->Kajsa's missive3]]
<==
(set: $kajsa_missive1 to true)(set: $evren_missive1 to false)(set: $nanette_missive1 to false)(text-style: "blur")[Kajsa shoves her stick into Cumberton's hands. He calls to her, from miles away. Step after step. She feels like she's flying through a {
(set: $play3a to (a: "starless night", "dark mist", "black sky"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $play3a's 1st)]<kajsa21|")[(replace: ?kajsa21)[(set: $play3a to (rotated: -1, ...$play3a))(print: $play3a's 1st)]]
}.] The coffee-house attic appears before her, as if she were waking from a dream. (text-style: "blur")[How long had she been here?] She was watching the mage on the road below, disappearing behind a corner.
//How did they find me? Why?// But the Court had it's ways, didn't it?
A knock at the floor boards. She grunts, frozen at the tiny window. Heavy breathing, quiet cursing, and Cumberton's head and shoulders appear. He's holding a thick envelope, with a glittering golden seal.
"It's from the Prince," he says. She //knew// he'd say that, but even so, she can feel cold jaws squeezing her heart even tighter. "We figured it's for you."
She wants to say {
(set: $play3b to (a: "something", "anything", "everything"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $play3b's 1st)]<kajsa22|")[(replace: ?kajsa22)[(set: $play3b to (rotated: -1, ...$play3b))(print: $play3b's 1st)]]
}, but all she can do is grunt. He presses the envelope into her hand.
"That mage is already gone. She said she had to go deal with {
(set: $salutations to it - (a: "the Roseate Player"))
(if: $salutations's length is 0)[a phantom thief]
(else-if: $salutations's length is 1)[(print: $salutations's 1st)]
(else:)[(link-repeat: "[(print: $salutations's 1st)]<1stletterchoice|")[(replace: ?1stletterchoice)[(set: $salutations to (rotated: -1, ...$salutations))(print: $salutations's 1st)]]]
}, whatever that means." He tries to scratch the back of his neck, but the narrow attic opening won't allow it. "Listen, just... tell me if you'll need some time off from the Roseates." And he disappears, into the murk.
The envelope feels like (text-style: "blur")[a thin sheet of ice between her fingertips. She doesn't know how long she sits there] until the rage begins to bubble up like a hot spring. Kajsa looks down at the missive with a sneer.
//How dare he.//
She cracks the seal with her fingernail.
==>
[[Continue->the missive]]
<==
The Tower chuckles, breaking into another smile. "What's really going to get Vethr Fulnir's attention is a full team of skilled, honorable soldiers. If we can't take a little snow and ice, how can we handle wolves and—"
Ruth jumps to her feet, sword-hand over her heart. The others follow her line of sight and quickly follow suit. Their commander accepts the interruption gracefully, turning to see who could inspire the minor breach of etiquette.
A {
(set: $barracks2a to (a: "dark", "sooty", "somber"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $barracks2a's 1st)]<evren21|")[(replace: ?evren21)[(set: $barracks2a to (rotated: -1, ...$barracks2a))(print: $barracks2a's 1st)]]
} figure approaches, smudged against the dove-gray earth and sky. The bulk of her long coat and robes aren't enough to disguise a {
(set: $barracks2b to (a: "slight", "fragile", "feeble"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $barracks2b's 1st)]<evren22|")[(replace: ?evren22)[(set: $barracks2b to (rotated: -1, ...$barracks2b))(print: $barracks2b's 1st)]]
} frame, and though the hood is pulled up and a strange white headdress conceals with shadows, the face of their visitor is {
(set: $barracks2c to (a: "delicate", "genteel", "mild"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $barracks2c's 1st)]<evren23|")[(replace: ?evren23)[(set: $barracks2c to (rotated: -1, ...$barracks2c))(print: $barracks2c's 1st)]]
} and refined.
But it is the crest on her robe that has drawn everyone's attention--a deep red field scattered with yellow stars and a great golden sun. The Tower of Dawn leaps to her feet, shining plates of armor ringing in the cold air. All of them bow with their hands over their hearts.
"Good morning." The mage has a smooth, quiet voice. "I'm here on court business, as... I'm sure you've... figured out..."
She trails off. The training field is silent.
"Please, you can stand," she says, finally, and all straighten.
"We are honored to entertain a member of the Court of Stars," the Tower begins in a rich voice. She peers down into the woman's face, finding familiar green eyes. "Ah—you are Advisor Bellerose!" Her armor rings as she once again bends at the waist.
"Please." There's just a touch of impatience in her voice. "I only need to deliver this missive from the Prince."
The hero graciously accepts the thick, cream-colored envelope, marvelling at the golden stamp. "From His Highness! Tell—ah—convey to him my deepest reverence. But—rrgh, I'm not—" She takes a breath to recollect herself. "My conduct has been unbecoming of treating the Prince's advisor. Would you please accompany me inside, that we could discuss His Highness's edict?"
Advisor Bellerose exhales, turns to glance at the gate, stares back up at the Tower. "For a moment," she concedes. "I have another matter after this to address."
The Tower gestures, and together they tramp the frosted training ground, the soldiers quietly returning to their meal.
==>
[[Continue->Evren's missive3]]
<==
(set: $evren_missive1 to true)(set: $nanette_missive1 to false)(set: $kajsa_missive1 to false)"A theft!" The hero's normally brilliant visage darkens like a thunderstorm. "From the royal vault itself?"
Firelight flickers off the polished stone walls. The Tower of Dawn brings a fire-warmed mug of (either: "apple", "pear", "apricot") cider to the mage, her royal missive carefully set aside.
"The Prince believes so. Oh, thank you." The mage's manner is {
(set: $barracks3a to (a: "composed", "sedate", "detached"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $barracks3a's 1st)]<evren31|")[(replace: ?evren31)[(set: $barracks3a to (rotated: -1, ...$barracks3a))(print: $barracks3a's 1st)]]
}, but the ghost of a smile haunts her narrow face. "I'm sorry for any informality on my part, I'm not used to this sort of treatment."
"It's only my duty," the Tower assures her.
"Things like that are falling out of vogue." She still has the matter-of-fact way of speaking the Tower remembers from when they first met.
"Then I suppose it's my kindness." The taller woman smiles down at her, before bringing herself back to the Prince's ill tidings. "I'm honored and flattered—I'm embarrassed to confess—that the Prince thought of me. We only spoke a handful of times, I'm happy to learn he considers me a friend and a capable champion."
The advisor blows across the top of her steaming cider, her breath curling like glittering blue ribbon. The steam vanishes. "The Prince has an eye for women." She gives herself a small shake. "Heroes. An eye for heroes."
"An increase in security," the Tower thinks aloud. "Do they still only use rotating shifts of four? Better make it six. My team can join me."
"I believe the Prince asks for discretion," the mage corrects her, mild. "More details can be found in the letter."
"Of course, and he—ah—I am not the only recipient of this letter?" She holds it up between two fingers, giving a rueful grin.
Her face betrays nothing. "No."
"Then you have more to deliver? Ah, that explains your reluctance to linger on a moment." The Tower bows her deepest yet. "I apologize for my obstinance, I've delayed you."
Advisor Bellerose gives another infrequent smile. "I could have said no." She replaces the empty mug on the hearth. "Should I tell the Palace to make arrangements for you and your team?"
The Tower of Dawn exhales, her breath misting even this close to the fire. "I'd hoped to avoid it, but it's for the best. And they can't receive any better training than in direct service to the realm." She brightens some. "Should I enquire after you when we arrive?"
"Please." Her long robes sweep the threadbare rugs on her way to the door. "And I must excuse myself. There is still {
(set: $salutations to it - (a: "the Tower of Dawn"))
(if: $salutations's length is 0)[the meaning behind the Prince's vision]
(else-if: $salutations's length is 1)[(print: $salutations's 1st)]
(else:)[(link-repeat: "[(print: $salutations's 1st)]<1stletterchoice|")[(replace: ?1stletterchoice)[(set: $salutations to (rotated: -1, ...$salutations))(print: $salutations's 1st)]]]
} to consider."
"I should accompany you to the gates!" The big woman was already at her side, opening the doors before she could even reach the handles.
"Oh." She appears startled, but corrects herself, placing her elbow in the crook of the Tower's arm. "Of course, thank you."
The winter wind swept in behind them, drifting rare flakes of snow across the stones.
==>
[[Continue->the missive]]
<==
(set: $nanette_missive1 to true)(set: $evren_missive1 to false)(set: $kajsa_missive1 to false)Nanette finds a quiet, shining spot under a stained glass tableau—a dimunitive figure under a {
(set: $palace1b to (a: "glittering", "galactic", "gibbering"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $palace1b's 1st)]<nanette12|")[(replace: ?nanette12)[(set: $palace1b to (rotated: -1, ...$palace1b))(print: $palace1b's 1st)]]
} mass, purple and blue and fur and teeth, haloed by the light of an evil moon. The hero Joyous Zenith, raising arms against the Witch-General Lisasiel. It had been almost a century ago, on the last Wolves' Night. Some people believed there would never be another.
Nanette traces the edge of the golden seal on her envelope, identical to that of the other three. Three letters addressed to three different people. //I wonder what has His Highness so panicked.//
Of herself, and the Tower of Dawn, she could guess at their purposes. She is the only Solcaster in the palace he can trust to keep silent on delicate matters—her distate of politics was, after all, one of the reasons why he relied on her advice. And the Tower of Dawn, a woman she had only come to be familiar with after the last Summer Crowns, is powerful, competent, and wholly naive—perhaps the last true hero in the virtuous sense.
She //had// hoped the Tower would arrive at the palace with the other migrating heroes this winter—the big woman's {
(set: $palace2a to (a: "amiability", "courtesy", "incorruptibility"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $palace2a's 1st)]<nanette21|")[(replace: ?nanette21)[(set: $palace2a to (rotated: -1, ...$palace2a))(print: $palace2a's 1st)]]
} was like a draught of clear water.
But who is the Roseate Player? The address is impossibly vague, almost an inside joke, and the Prince hasn't given her any further details. It must be one of the many {
(set: $palace2b to (a: "friends", "admirers", "pawns"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $palace2b's 1st)]<nanette22|")[(replace: ?nanette22)[(set: $palace2b to (rotated: -1, ...$palace2b))(print: $palace2b's 1st)]]
} he has scattered across the social strata of the city.
A clicking of heels, an answering clatter across the room. Nanette startles out of her reverie. The reedy figure of the King looms over her, eyes shadowed by the thick, iron-gray hair sprouting from everywhere on his head save the top of it.
She has no time to make a show of apologetic groveling. Pragmatism has always served her well. "Your Majesty," she addresses him simply, curtseying low.
He waves her up, attention roaming the hall. "Has my son been seen here?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"Hmp. He's usually here with..." The King trails off, smoothing the tuft of hair jutting from his chin. His eyes wander down to her. "Goodness, you're that Ivory Academy graduate. His new advisor. Bellerophon?"
"Bellerose, if it please Your Majesty." //I've been here for three seasons now.// "His Highness is entertaining himself in his study."
"Hmp. Tactful. That's why I enjoy your company so much, Bellerose. Dreadful state he was in this morning. Entertaining! I suspected he'd be—well, he certainly takes heed of your advice, will you help me advise him to release himself?" The King himself extends her a royal elbow.
Carefully {
(set: $palace2c to (a: "professional", "indifferent", "nonthreatening"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $palace2c's 1st)]<nanette23|")[(replace: ?nanette23)[(set: $palace2c to (rotated: -1, ...$palace2c))(print: $palace2c's 1st)]]
}, she curtseys low. "I apologize, Your Majesty, but your son has asked that I deliver messages for him today."
"Deliver! Hmp." His eyebrows nearly cover his eyes. "I suppose." With that, he leaves her, grumbling to himself, the golden hem of his robes sweeping the immaculate floor.
Nanette retrieves her envelope from her sleeve. First, this, and then to find {
(set: $salutations to (a: "the Tower of Dawn", "the Roseate Player"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $salutations's 1st)]<1stletterchoice|")[(replace: ?1stletterchoice)[(set: $salutations to (rotated: -1, ...$salutations))(print: $salutations's 1st)]]
}.
==>
[[Continue->the missive]]
<==
The mages are peering up at her, bleary. She's hesitated too long. "What is it?" One asks, and the other rubs an eye with two dainty fingers. "Do you hear that?"
//The whispering?// she thinks, but the mage replies, "That humming."
Reign is sniffing loudly, stumbling to his feet. "Is it getting dark in here?"
It's not just her—the air is thick, gray. The yellow crystals pouring out artifical sunlight are starting to gutter like torches. The smaller mage is gasping for breath, gulping like an idiot. "A spell," the other hisses. "I can hear it coming." But something is murmuring to them, too. It sounds like {
(set: $kajsavault1a to (a: "dust and blood", "teeth and claws", "rage and hunger"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $kajsavault1a's 1st)]<kajsa11|")[(replace: ?kajsa11)[(set: $kajsavault1a to (rotated: -1, ...$kajsavault1a))(print: $kajsavault1a's 1st)]]
}.
Kajsa's eyes dart around the vault. The only entrance is the stairs. //It's happening.// The corners are going dark, one by one. The last conscious mage is panicking, sparks flying from his fingers but nothing coming of it. Kajsa pulls her scarf over her mouth, and carefully disappears into the growing gloom. The things in the vault are flickering like shadows in firelight.
"What is that?" Fulgent Reign is bellowing like a wounded bull, sword in his hand, dying light flashing off the blade. Is it the beer or the smoke making him flounder? "Hester!" He kicks an unmoving mage. "Shit!"
"Get out of here," the other one is croaking, crawling for the stairs. Reign makes it a few valiant steps before sinking to his knees, choking.
She only has so much energy to spend on enjoying it. Even with shallow breaths and mere sips of air, Kajsa's throat is burning and her lungs are beginning to squeeze. The relics in the vault are laughing with her, and at her, harsh and howling.
Then it all stops.
The greasy smoke parts like water, light from the waning moon trickling down into the vault. Kajsa can hear the tapping of soft-soled shoes on the granite steps. She pinches a needle between each finger.
==>
[[Continue->kajsa and thief3]]
<==
(set: $kajsa_scenes to it +1)(set: $kajsa_act1 to true)She's small, this sorceress, and bony, dressed and bowed like a servant. Her eyebrows are dangerously thin, her dark brittle hair breaking out of its stumpy ponytail. Clear, light eyes peer furtively into the mists. Kajsa can't make out their color.
She's carefully nudging the unconscious mages with a toe when Fulgent Reign begins to struggle. The sorceress starts away from him like a {
(set: $kajsavault2a to (a: "doe", "cottontail", "mangy wolf"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $kajsavault2a's 1st)]<kajsa21|")[(replace: ?kajsa21)[(set: $kajsavault2a to (rotated: -1, ...$kajsavault2a))(print: $kajsavault2a's 1st)]]
}. He's made it to one knee by the time she can gather herself and approach him.
"You," the hero coughs, surprised.
Her wan face hardens with recognition, a cold fire ignites behind her eyes. Kajsa knows it, knows what feeds it. She leans forward, out of the shadow, struggling to stay upright.
The young woman has long thin hands, and they easily find their way to his scabbard, drawing the beautiful golden sword with a whisper. "You slut—" He begins, and chokes again, because she's pulling him by the throat, pulling him down onto the point of his blade. It takes a few moments of effort, pulling him farther, easily batting away his feeble hands, before two feet of gold is jutting from between his shoulderblades and Fulgent Reign is still.
Kajsa gasps for words. She's seen {
(set: $kajsavault2b to (a: "blood", "bones", "severed limbs"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $kajsavault2b's 1st)]<kajsa22|")[(replace: ?kajsa22)[(set: $kajsavault2b to (rotated: -1, ...$kajsavault2b))(print: $kajsavault2b's 1st)]]
}, but for all her deepest wishes she has never killed a man. It's not fear overpowering her.
The sorceress wipes her hands in his hair, leaving great gobs of blood. Her crystalline eyes have found Kajsa, but she seems uninterested already, distracted. The Jagged Mask holds her attention. The sound of her slippered feet on the stone is like a cat walking across snow.
"You can't," Kajsa is able to wheeze, fumbling another step forward. She clutches the scarf to her face, struggling to keep from gulping the tainted air.
The young woman startles again, staring at her, silently asking the question. Her hands are reflected in the faceted obsidian.
"They'll come after you." Kajsa smothers a cough. //Why do I care? Why am I standing out?// "And the things here... they're sick." //I wanted to kill him, too.//
She traces the edge of the mask with one finger. "Everything's sick," she whispers in a voice like {
(set: $kajsavault2c to (a: "drifting snow", "spider silk", "viper scales"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $kajsavault2c's 1st)]<kajsa23|")[(replace: ?kajsa23)[(set: $kajsavault2c to (rotated: -1, ...$kajsavault2c))(print: $kajsavault2c's 1st)]]
}.
The laughing starts again, interspersed with whispers, snarls, desperate prayer. Kajsa's vision flickers. The woman in the Mask raises her hand. Kajsa runs. The night comes down around her.
==>
[[Continue->letter with relic]]
<==
"What is it?" The Tower asks, patient. She's no longer surprised by these moments between the soldiers—thought it hurts that none feel ready to trust her, she trusts them in turn to know when they'll be ready.
"I just know //I// wouldn't enjoy these 'banquets,'" Ruth mutters, dour.
"If the commander wants to go, it's under her authority," Wes protests. "She's a hero, too."
She turns, studying their faces. Ruth knits her brows, drawing her mouth into a long thin line. There's an uncharacteristic sadness in Josef's eyes that she can't trace. Wes and Yong avoid her gaze.
"The nobles who live here in the palace," Noemi begins from her elbow. The Tower is startled to hear her small voice. "They, um, they don't live like..." The soldier shrinks a little, struggling for words. "Like how you've taught us to live."
She can feel the immense importance behind the hurt, the curious {
(set: $evrenvault2a to (a: "anger", "sadness", "regret"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault2a's 1st)]<evren21|")[(replace: ?evren21)[(set: $evrenvault2a to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault2a))(print: $evrenvault2a's 1st)]]
} prickling at her team over the subject of lords and banquets. "I don't understand," she admits finally. "But I want to. Why would having a terrible time at a lord's banquet do anything but give me a splitting headache?"
Ruth laughs, cynical at first and then bright and earnest. "The commander //would// have a—" She trails off into a fit of coughing. The others chuckle in turn until her coughing turns thick, alarming.
"Do you smell that?" Yong asks, wary.
They're on their feet, hands at the hilts of their weapons. Josef drags Ruth to her feet, leans her heavily against his shoulder. Something burns in the hero's nostrils. Noemi makes the gesture for //smoke//, and they all adjust their scarves and mufflers.
She can see it now, a {
(set: $evrenvault2b to (a: "rippling", "curdling", "writhing"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault2b's 1st)]<evren22|")[(replace: ?evren22)[(set: $evrenvault2b to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault2b))(print: $evrenvault2b's 1st)]]
} in the air. The tiny home-made suns begin to flicker and dim. Her soldiers are coughing, restrained at first but rattling more and more. She hears a rasping, a hushed roar, that resolves itself into whispers if she listens too hard. She stops listening.
"Get to the back," she orders. "Surround the Mask." //The smoke should be thinner there, farthest from the entrance.// They stumble but obey without question.
The Tower of Dawn draws her sword, focusing on the sun disc stamped into the golden blade. ''//Vethr Fulnir grant me health.//'' She closes her eyes, meditating on the {
(set: $evrenvault2c to (a: "wholeness of her body", "strength of her lungs", "power of her breath"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault2c's 1st)]<evren23|")[(replace: ?evren23)[(set: $evrenvault2c to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault2c))(print: $evrenvault2c's 1st)]]
}. The smoke burns a little less. ''//And may he protect my recruits. May they see the Sun's strength on my back.//'' She opens her eyes. Her vision clears a little more.
Though the smoke is black and foul, her gaze can pierce it, to the vault entrance and the cold moonlight. //I will die before they fall,// she swears to herself. The vault, full of waking curses, laughs at her, and she ignores it. //I will die before anyone lays a hand on the Mask.//
Her weapon is light as air in her hands, and she readies it, still and strong as a statue.
Someone is coming down the stairs.
==>
[[Continue->evren and thief3]]
<==
(set: $evren_scenes to it +1)(set: $evren_act1 to true)Even with the grace of her god, it takes a moment to see clearly. A small figure, furtive, stands at the foot of the stairs, clad in rough cotton skirts—she could have been someone's servant. Her dark hair is thin and straw-like, like a mage who hasn't yet committed to shaving. In the dark of the room and the shadows of her face, her eyes glitter like stars.
The sword grip is slick in her hands. The Tower of Dawn fumbles her weapon, catching it seconds before it hits the floor.
"Teal," she gasps. "Teal."
The young woman steps closer, darkness parting around her, starry eyes wide and disbelieving. Dark wisps of hair curl about her cheekbones like smoke.
She knows that face. It's been six years.
"What are you doing here?" The hero croaks. Her strength is wavering and the black air is clawing its way in, scorching her ribs. //This is a trick. A test of my resolve.//
Teal shakes her head, her face pale, her thin eyebrows drawn together.
"You have to... to get out of here." The Tower places a shaky hand on the woman's shoulder. "It's not safe." //She left six years ago. She left the court. Why is she here?//
Two thin hands find their way to the hero's cheeks, cold as a {
(set: $evrenvault3a to (a: "wild stream", "winter sky", "wolf's heart"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault3a's 1st)]<evren31|")[(replace: ?evren31)[(set: $evrenvault3a to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault3a))(print: $evrenvault3a's 1st)]]
}. "I'm sorry, Evren," she murmurs. "Please move out of the way."
//Why?// It's burning in her eyes and throat. She tries to concentrate on the wholeness of her body and the strength of her breath, but her {
(set: $evrenvault3b to (a: "head", "chest", "heart"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault3b's 1st)]<evren32|")[(replace: ?evren32)[(set: $evrenvault3b to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault3b))(print: $evrenvault3b's 1st)]]
} is aching. //Why is this happening?//
She raises her golden sword, fixing her expression. "I am the Tower of Dawn," she intones, ringing into the dark. "I won't be moved."
The young woman's face falls, her expression hardens. Her form is obscured by shadows, twisting where she ends and the darkness begins. The cacophony of bodiless whispers begins again, roaring to a crescendo inside her head.
A voice like {
(set: $evrenvault3c to (a: "steel on silk", "blood on a feather", "frost on a rose"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $evrenvault3c's 1st)]<evren33|")[(replace: ?evren33)[(set: $evrenvault3c to (rotated: -1, ...$evrenvault3c))(print: $evrenvault3c's 1st)]]
}, a voice she used to know. "My apologies, hero. I mistook you for a friend."
The sword is too heavy to swing. Her mind is still reeling. Her body is burning from the inside.
She hopes she's dying, or her oath meant nothing.
==>
[[Continue->letter with relic]]
<==
Marian laughs, thrilled at the turn in conversation, and claps her hands with delight, all too close to Nanette's ear. She tries to ignore the humming in her brain.
"No, no." A rustle of feathers—the bird man is shaking his head. "She's at court to hide from that nasty //wife// of hers. But don't you remember Baroness Bellerose?" The last part asked in amazement at the gasps of his companions. "The King had her dismissed and stripped of title when she wouldn't stop thrashing poor little Na—"
Nanette rounds on them, all at once her hand tight around Marian's wrist. The other woman shrieks.
"Quiet," the Solcaster orders. "Do you hear that?"
The humming grows, soft as velvet first but rising to a teeth-chattering crescendo. The {
(set: $nanettevault2a to (a: "sound", "pulse", "throb"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $nanettevault2a's 1st)]<nanette21|")[(replace: ?nanette21)[(set: $nanettevault2a to (rotated: -1, ...$nanettevault2a))(print: $nanettevault2a's 1st)]]
} of magic. Nanette releases Marian, and all three shrink away.
"Something's coming." She thrusts her hands out of her sleeves, places two fingers at her throat, and then her heart. "Prepare counterspells."
"We're not—" Marian begins, but one of the others silences her. The air has grown {
(set: $nanettevault2b to (a: "heavy", "syrupy", "stifling"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $nanettevault2b's 1st)]<nanette22|")[(replace: ?nanette22)[(set: $nanettevault2b to (rotated: -1, ...$nanettevault2b))(print: $nanettevault2b's 1st)]]
} and the lights are starting to flicker. Wordless, the mages move through their individual rituals. Nanette breathes out, //pushes// with her lungs, filling the room with the energy burning in her body. The vault begins to thrum with magical cadence.
Thin smoke curls down the stairs, billows against an invisible wall. An inexact sphere shoves outward from the mages, pressing back against the opposing frequency. The lights around them burn bright again.
"What is it?" The bird-man asks, a shrill note of panic in his voice.
//It may be our Prince's thief.// "I don't know," she lies. "But stay alert. I don't think this–"
Movement out of the corner of her eye. She's not fast enough. The shadows snap and dance in the corners of the vault, where they haven't reached. One shatters their careful counterspell, strikes at Marian. Nanette tries to extend herself but can't reach in time—the shade gives Marian a vicious shake, and she falls still.
Sorcery floods into the vault. The shadows gape like holes in the earth, staining the floor. Curses fill her mind, promises and pleas and prayers, the artifacts calling her by name—//"help me, complete me, finish my work."//
//But where is she?// Nanette grits her teeth. //Where is the sorceress?//
The other mages are screaming.
==>
[[Continue->nanette and thief3]]
<==
(set: $nanette_scenes to it +1)(set: $nanette_act1 to true)There's a fifth person here, {
(set: $nanettevault3a to (a: "a sudden stranger", "discord in the song", "a wolf among the sheep"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $nanettevault3a's 1st)]<nanette31|")[(replace: ?nanette31)[(set: $nanettevault3a to (rotated: -1, ...$nanettevault3a))(print: $nanettevault3a's 1st)]]
}. The shadows flutter at her steps, blurring the edges of her form. She grabs the man with the feathered head, shades corralling him into her grasp. The last mage bowls into Nanette, unsteadying her in his dash for the stairs. Tendrils of darkness pursue him out of the vault.
"Stop," Nanette orders, her heart in her throat, her lungs burning with acrid smoke. She can't stop this. She was sent to her death. //But I have to try// shoves the terror back into her gut. She struggles to close the distance between her and the sorceress.
Bird-man falls lifeless to the stones. The shadowmancer ignores her, and turns to face the Jagged Mask.
"//Stop//," she cries, and stretches, flinging the burning energy inside her with all her might. The black figure raises a hand, Nanette can hear the rising hum of this new magical signature, everything is all crashing dissonance, but then—
Their magics connect like a stone on a placid lake.
(text-style: "blurrier")[All she can] (text-style: "blur")[hear is a] tone, a single note, clear and sweet and growing louder. It's ringing from the little sun inside her, the blazing engine of divinity and potential. Her body is a glass bell glowing with heat. Under the tone there's a swelling pulse, and first she thinks its her heart beat but then she can't think. A shiver starts at the base of her spine. Everything is vibrating like a spell but she's the spell, rising and surging and crashing (text-style: "blur")[and exploding into] (text-style: "blurrier")[hot white stars...]
Sharp pain in her knees. She's fallen to the stone floor. The vault is humming but quiet, shadows lingering at the edges of her vision, waiting. Her face is burning. She casts her eyes around, searching, {
(set: $nanettevault3b to (a: "flustered", "dazed", "dizzy"))
(link-repeat: "[(print: $nanettevault3b's 1st)]<nanette32|")[(replace: ?nanette32)[(set: $nanettevault3b to (rotated: -1, ...$nanettevault3b))(print: $nanettevault3b's 1st)]]
}.
The other woman—the sorceress—is struggling to her feet, darkness fallen away like a shroud. Her eyes are wide, glazed, clear and pale like old stained glass. Wisps of hair, dark as a thundercloud, spill into her thin face. Her cheeks are flushed.
"Stand down," Nanette orders, panting, rising on quivering legs. If she stops to think about what just happened, everything is lost. The sorceress twitches a hand, and the darkness flocks to her. Nanette scatters flares like darts, praying for a hit. The flares sink into the dark like harmless pebbles, and the sorceress sweeps outward with a—
(text-style: "blurrier")[The tone] (text-style: "blur")[is louder] this time, unbearably beautiful, spreading fire to every inch of her body. //This is resonance,// she thinks, trying to stay present, trying to muster alarm, but fever takes her. Everything falls away, the darkness, the vault, the earth, the sky, the Mask, the dark woman, and when (text-style: "blur")[the stars explode she's] (text-style: "blurrier")[inside them, trembling, reeling...]
==>
[[Continue->letter with relic]]
<==
(set: $lordpartyname to (either: "Vega", "Reed", "West"))(set: $kajsafakename to (either: "Erik", "Hugo", "Byron"))(set: $reignwoman to (either: "Petra", "Sondra", "Gloria"))
//(if: $nanette_missive1)[Advisor](if: $evren_missive1)[Brave hero](if: $kajsa_missive1)[Beautiful dove],
(if: $kajsa_missive1)[Time is cruelly short. We parted not so long ago, with tears and anguish. I hope these ill thoughts do not still dwell within you. I, and your kingdom, have great need of you and your more extralegal skills.
](unless: $kajsa_missive1)[The informality of this missive will no doubt surprise you.] (if: $nanette_missive1)[Time is a concern, and I don't intend to waste it on appropriate language.
] (if: $evren_missive1)[I trust in your humility as you no doubt trust in my authority when I say there is no time for civilities. I come to you as a former hero, appealing to the virtue of another.
]
I received (if: $nanette_missive1)[what you will no doubt agree was] a(if:$evren_missive1)[n unholy] vision last night, brought about by the unlucky moon—a sorceress (if: $kajsa_missive1)[dared to accost](unless: $kajsa_missive1)[accosted] me, (unless: $kajsa_missive1)[robbing me of breath](if: $kajsa_missive1)[ignoring my righteous castigations] and menacing me with her foul magic. She (if: $kajsa_missive1)[had stolen](unless: $kajsa_missive1)[seemed to have] the Jagged Mask(unless: $kajsa_missive1)[ in her possession].
(if: $kajsa_missive1)[Delicate heart, I write you this not to frighten you—please do not presume anything perilous has befallen me. The royal vault, where all such cursed artifacts reside, has not been breached—yet.
](unless: $kajsa_missive1)[Naturally, when I awoke from such an ordeal, my first thoughts were on the royal vault—but I have been assured the Mask still resides there, with all the other cursed artifacts.
]
You will of course share my alarm. (if: $nanette_missive1)[If this vision is true—and I believe it was either sent by the sorceress to frighten me, or the Golden Lord to caution me–then there is someone out there who intends to steal the Jagged Mask.] (if: $evren_missive1)[A wielder of dark sorcery is searching out our weaknesses, and means to exploit them with the awful power granted by the Jagged Mask.] (if: $kajsa_missive1)[The Golden Lord has entrusted many things to me, as the heir to a royal line of heroes, and it seems dark sorcery intends to steal that which I protect.] You know as well as I that we cannot allow this to come to pass. The Witch-General Lisasiel all but destroyed this kingdom nearly a century ago(if: $evren_missive1)[, and many great heroes were slain]. We are not prepared for another attack from Mooneater zealots(if: $kajsa_missive1)[, not even if I were to take courageous command of our heroic army and march them into the scablands](if: $evren_missive1)[, despite the untold power of our righteous heroes]. (if: $evren_missive1)[Many have already taken residence in the Palace for the winter, and I could press them into service patrolling the vault, but my thoughts have lingered on your impressive record and your unswerving dedication to duty.]
(if: $kajsa_missive1)[Your quick, mischeivous fingers have always brought me pleasure—now they can serve your kingdom as well as they have served me in the past. You abandoned my company so quickly, sweet dove, we were never able to settle the manner of all your pardons—were you to neglect this letter, or continue to shun my society, I'm afraid of how the law might alight on you. You need but only address my concerns with the vault, and all will be well.
](unless: $kajsa_missive1)[I hearby sanction any and all methods you may use to protect the vault, and the Mask. Act with my authority.
]
I'm sure you understand that discretion and subtelty will be key in this endeavor. The populace must never understand the danger we are in, even once the threat has passed. (if: $nanette_missive1)[As my father is concerned with preparations for the Wolves' Night ceremonies, he will neither be burdered with this matter.](if: $kajsa_missive1)[I hope that you will blaze within my sight again, bright heart.]
-The Prince of Stars//
==>
(if: $salutations's length is 0)[(link-goto: "Continue", "the theft")](else:)[ [Continue]<continue| (click: ?continue)[(display: "1stletterchoice")]]
<==
==>
''Thank you for playing Act 1''
The full text will be made available within the coming weeks.
Follow the writer on Twitter <a href="http://www.twitter.com/rai_cole">@rai_cole</a>, and on Wordpress at <a href="http://raicole.wordpress.com">raicole.wordpress.com</a>.
[[Begin again?->Start]]
<==
{
(set: $nanette_act1 to false)
(set: $evren_act1 to false)
(set: $kajsa_act1 to false)
(set: $nanette_missive1 to false)
(set: $evren_missive1 to false)
(set: $kajsa_missive1 to false)
(set: $nanette_scenes to 0)
(set: $evren_scenes to 0)
(set: $kajsa_scenes to 0)
}