The Ascent of Zariel, Volume I, Chapter 1


 * Cataract - Whisperwood Hold - Throne Room


 * The tower and tree symbol of Whisperwood Hold are displayed, gray and brown-green on a background of pale blue, on a tapestry that dangles above the meticulously carved wooden throne and gray stone dais where King Lionel Trueguard of Whisperwood Hold rules. The king's elite soldiers are always on guard here.

The demon rubs at the side of his neck, clacking his staff on the floor with every step. He examines his surroundings, murmuring, "S'been a while since I've been here... not since Rav and I went down to the Bloodwalk, /way/ back."

Linnael quirks a smile. "Don't think you went to visit the King that day," he notes.

"We didn't, I'm talking the general area," Zariel says, "I don't think I ever bothered to come in here. The guards weren't much of a challenge."

Linnael raises an eyebrow at Zariel. "Right then."

Zariel flags down the herald. "Would you let His Majesty know that Zariel has arrived for the audience he requested?" He scratches at the back of his head, then and lets out a breath. "This is going to go badly," he remarks, "I can feel it. It'll take the whole month just to fix whatever I do today." He has done away with the wings, hidden his collar as a belt, and changed the coloring of his clothes. Carrying a simple black staff that he's using as a walking stick.

The herald gives Zariel and his companions a look so bland it had to have been practiced in a mirror, then bows and announces loudly, "The traveller Zariel and companions request audience with his royal Majesty, King Lionel Trueguard, true and rightful lord of Whisperwood!"

...The King, it seems, has had a long day of such shouting. Only long training suppresses the wince to a barely-noticeable twitch. He waves a hand to his guards, to escort the party to kneel before the throne; the guards indicate one should kneel by rather sharp and eloquent gestures. As they move forward, the group can see that behind the throne and just to the side stands a priest in the robes of the Shining Ones. Just quietly watching the proceedings.

Among the many people standing in the throne room is one unnoticeably bland human figure, brown-haired, brown-eyed and of a perfectly average height. He looks like any other courtier, though more drably dressed than most. The man perks up slightly at the announcement, turning his gaze to the doorway.

The demon walks in, respectfully kneeling where indicated. Zariel keeps his expression plain and neutral, and waits to be addressed.

Linnael follows Zariel quietly up to the throne, though he stands a little back, leaning against his staff. Zariel bows before the king, but he keeps out of it.

King Trueguard studies this peculiar tableau for a while in silence. When he speaks, it's in a measured baritone that holds a note of absolute authority; the voice of a man who simply cannot conceive of being disobeyed. "When word came that you sought audience with Us, We confess to a degree of surprise. You come from the places Beyond, do you not? For what reason do you seek audience with Us?"

The brown-haired courtier in his blue garb shoulders his way towards the front of the crowd, aiming to catch a better glimpse of the conversation between the demon and the king. For now he's just another spectator, silent but visibly curious.

Zariel raises his head as he's addressed, offering a smile to the King. "I would like to know more about this place, your Majesty," he replies, "Your customs, traditions, laws, ways of thinking - in particular, how it's all kept together. How you make decisions, how you rule. I figured the best way to find out would be simply to ask you myself." He's kneeled in front of the throne, staff in hand and much less demonly in appearance than usual. Linnael's off to the side, there's a Shining One watching the proceedings, and a bland courtier off to the side, watching as well.

Linnael turns to look around slowly, before he catches sight of the Shining One and gives a winning smile.

There's a murmur of...if not anger, then certainly offense, all through the court. The King frowns, leaning forward just slightly on his throne. "We rule in this land," he says, and from the tone it's very clear that it's a royal 'we' and not a democracy. "And thou," the shift emphasizing his focus on Zariel alone, "insult'st this hall with such a purpose. From this hall all policy in Whisperwood is made; We are surrounded by men who have devoted their lives to the kingdom's defense and its rule, and *thou* wish to treat with Us as if we were no more than district functionaries?" He waves a hand, dismissing. "Be away with thee, thou and thy companions. Address Us with such disrespect again and Our servants of the Faith will teach thee proper humility."

Into the throne room comes Alexia. She stands near the back of the room, her stance proud, but her demeanor one of humility as she enters into the presence of the court. She remains quiet for now, her expression over a rather neutral one.

The glowing eyed creature known only as Narthic stalks into the throne room, playing the role of mildly curious observer. Ducking his massive twelve foot frame through the double-door archway, the Dragon/humanoid hybrid stays his distance from the major group. Though the outburst does earn a deep rumble in a quiet chuckle.

The courier frowns slightly at the king's reply to the demon, but remains determinedly silent, a quiet observer.

Zariel closes his eyes, lowering his head and letting out a sigh. "I assure you, your Majesty, I meant no offense. This humble fool begs forgiveness, as I am from a barbaric land with a ruler who is nothing more than a peasant compared to the magnificent King Lionel Trueguard." He keeps his eyes on the floor this time, allowing the angle and his hair to mask his features for the moment.

Linnael quirks a smile at that, lifting a hand to hide it.

If Narthic had eyeballs, he'd roll them. "I left my mountain for this?" he rumbles to himself.

The King and his courtiers watch this display in stony silence, letting it linger on for several moments after Zariel finishes speaking. "If thou hast finished thy tomfoolery," he says levelly, "What purpose hast brought thee to Our court?"

The courtier has moved nearly to the front by now, watching this all with a sort of aristocratic boredom, stifling a yawn behind a tanned hand.

Alexia watches on curiously, a little smile just starting to tug at the corners of her lips. Not one of humor, but a more solomn smile.

Off to the side, one of the court ladies - a small brunette, in a scarlet gown - makes her way toward he front via amused but pointed applications of her decoraive fan. She studies the lost kneeling demon with a little smile, hen turns to whisper behind her fan to a nearby bored courtier.


 * The court lady whispers in Darya's voice, "Vi drook is in so much more trouble than he realizes, pretty. Ya could not possibly have missed such a rare display."

The plain and brown courtier looks down sharply at his companion, affecting a soft laugh. But his eyes are keen as he studies her, and the smile that curves his lips as he seemingly whispers sweet nothings in return does not reach their gaze.


 * And Ravus whispers back, voice quite recognizable even if his exterior is not. "Why should he be in trouble? Is Trueguard -so- unpleasant with visitors to his realm?"

The court lady laughs, a low, almost bedroom laugh at those words, but her murmured reply is brief before she steps back with a flutter of her fan. Quite back, actually.


 * Lasciel whispers, "As aboves so below, vi amusingly naieve angel. Our master is here."

After a long moment's hesitation to pick his words, Zariel says, "As I said, your Majesty, I have a great interest in the culture of Whisperwood. Would there, perhaps, be a position open where I could serve in your court? To learn and to be of service to your magnificence?"

The King seems quite taken aback at this. "Thou wilt swear fealty to this court?" he asks, somewhat disbelieving.

The courtier's lips tighten at the lady's laugh, but he lets his gaze roam the area... unhurried, seemingly, looking from face to face. If one were to observe him closely, one would note the second of extra scrutiny, the time he takes to actually search those faces for something.

"Yes," the demon replies simply, "It would be a great honor to be able to loyally serve you, your Majesty."

Remember that priest standing in the background? Well, he steps forward after listening to Zariel and the oath, "With respect your majesty, I feel we've heard enough," he says in a rather oiley sounding voice, "A demon offering an oath to the king? I think we can all see the futility in that," he looks to Zariel, giving the Demon a wicked little smile as his eyes give off a faint black glow for the briefest of moments.

"A -demon-? How do you know that?" the courtier gasps, turning to stare over at the priest. "He doesn't look anything like a demon to -me-..."

The retreating lady snaps her fan closed. "You would question the word of a priest on such matters?" she asks in cultured tones. "For shame, my lord, you tread on the edges of heresy."

The King, however, frowns. "Indeed," he muses. "Holiness, how dost thou know this supplicant is a demon?"

Zariel's eyes rise to meet the Shining One's when he starts to speak and he raises an eyebrow, "A demon. Coming from a man whose eyes just flashed black. This is no holy man, he's an imposter."

"Priests are men like any other, m'lady," the courtier disputes with the woman, firmly shaking his head. "They have eyes to see, as do you and I- and I saw it too, what this 'demon' attests."

"Your majesty and the members of the court, allow me to reveal to you the true nature of the visitor before you," the priest says, turning to Zariel, he speaks in a low voice, a rather long sounding and oily word, that seems to slip through one ear and out the other without lodging itself in the brain. It'd only be familiar and able to be remembered by one other person in the room, and that would be Zariel, as it's the Demon's true name.

The court lady's eyes widen briefly - and when the strange incantation seems to do nothing at all, her fan snaps open, hiding the lower half of her face. Shaking her head slightly, she slips away.

The King waits attentively for a few moments, for whatever the priest's incantation was meant to do. When nothing happens, however, he says, "Supplicant, We shall not hear such blasphemy in this court. Hold thou to that, and it seems thy worth is proven, and We shall accept the into Our service." He looks around. "But We are weary, and shall ake Our rest now. Thou may'st attend Us in the morn."

Zariel makes a bit of a confused face, yawning and wiggling a finger in his ear as though to pop it. "And what, exactly, were you hoping to accomplish?" he asks of the Shining One, tilting his head. While his expression is still bemused, his eyes glimmer with what is normally shown by way of a shit-eatting grin. He rises, then, as he is dismissed, "As you wish, Majesty. Sleep well." Another glance to the Shining One, before he turns towards the exit. His departure is slow and he remains wary of his surroundings. The Shiny in particular - back never does completely turn away from that guy.

The courtier shivers a little at the demon's words, telling all those around himself at a badly quieted whisper, "That didn't sound like -holy speech- to me." Shaking his head in evident disapproval, he moves over after the lady for a few parting words before he also heads for the exit.


 * Ravus whispers, "Shouldn't have told me he was here, darling, but thanks. Guess you do like me just a little."

The priest scowls, practically glowering at Zariel, "A very /stubborn/ Demon," he hisses, at this point to no one in particular. That black glow appears for one last moment, before it disappears, as does the scowl. The priest suddenly wobbles a bit, blinking furiously for a few seconds, before he catches himself, makes a rushed bow, and departs quickly.


 * Cataract - Whisperwood Hold - Grand Hall


 * A glittering crystal chandelier hangs suspended from the arched ceiling above the purple runner carpet that bisects the cool gray stone floor in this grand hall, which leads from the castle entrance to the great doors that grant access to the king's throne room.

Zariel takes a breath as he exits the Throne Room. Paranoidly, he checks over his shoulder as he makes to leave the Castle. His staff taps on the floor with every step, gripped tightly to the point of his knuckles turning white.

That courtier is among the many who are leaving now that the king is retiring, a completely nondescript fellow- it's remarkable how well he blends into the crowd. A hand reaches into his pocket, subtly.

The demon notices the courtier and the pocket movement, but he doesn't really do anything. Zariel keeps striding, his attention trying to stay with the nondescipt man, although that's not easy with just how well he blends.

The courtier looks up for a moment, and his hand stays where it is. He eyes the demon suspiciously it seems, shaking his head to himself and picking up his pace.

There's the faintest hint of a frown at that, but Zariel keeps how he is. He doesn't seem interested in intercepting the now-suspicious man - just keep an eye on him.

Still casting back frequent suspicious glances, the courtier follows the crowds on out of the keep.


 * Cataract - Whisperwood Hold - Castle Row


 * A broad cobblestone thoroughfare, straight and true, leading from the Commons in the south to the courtyard of Whisperwood Hold Keep, in the north. The passage is kept clear of wagons, stalls and other obstacles that might find more purchase on Market Row. Rumor has it that the king can abide few things less than a cluttered view from his balcony.

Once outside of the keep, Zariel picks up his pack a bit. "Excuse me," he calls out to the courtier politely, his demeanor a bit more relaxed out in the open, "Sir, could I get a quick word?"

"...Fine," the courtier grouses, stopping and turning back to Zariel. "What is it? I don't want to get too caught up with you in case the King decides to hang you."

Zariel chuckles lightly, "Fair enough. You, um... you spoke out in my defense, in the Throne Room, against your Holy Man's words. I was wondering why."

"I'm not the religious type," the courier says sourly. "You hear things about what those priests are doing. Things like... well, it's not right for -them- to have trouble with anyone else's demons. Maybe it's just rumors. But a man's a man. If you were a demon, how should he know? And I thought I saw that blackness in his eyes too... so I did what any honest man'd do."

"They're not rumors," Zariel says softly, "But that's a discussion for another time... You didn't just blindly take his word for it like others might." He clears his throat, "Th-th-tha... th-thhh..." He sighs, "S-sorry, I've got a bit of a t-tick. Nerves are shot." He smiles briefly, "Have a pleasant night, sir." With that, Zariel starts off towards the commons, tapping his staff with every step once again.

"Hn," the courtier grunts, just nodding- though he does find the shadow of a smile. Only once Zariel has gone quite a decent ways does he turn, slipping behind the corner of the nearest building. A hand winnows into his pocket once more, something is grasped, and the man... disappears.

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