Tag: Creative

Waking-up with a massive migraine and a thick layer of hazy confusion was a situation Durston wasn’t use to experiencing. Even with the most promiscuous activities, his upbringing would never have allowed him to indulge to the point of complete disorientation. Wanting to stabilize his mental and physical equilibrium, Timothy kept his eyes directed at the unfamiliar ceiling.

“It’s advised for you to remain still Cleric.” A distinct foreign voice and creak of wood redistributing weight had Timothy strain to respond. Fear made way through his body, settling heavy everywhere it touched as Durston struggled to move but failed.

“Ah, tisk tisk my young Cleric. That’s why I insisted that you to stay as you were.” The stranger appeared over Durston, peering down and making eye-contact with a slight frown. But it was a look of disappointment flashing across her gaze that made Timothy realize he wasn’t the only one displeased with the circumstance.

“As you’re aware by now, magical and material means are keeping you restrained here. Unfortunately for you, the informant the Realm believed to have is in truth still very much loyal to our cause. That makes you purposefully lead to us, and placed in our care.” A hand fluttered half-haphazardly across Durston’s shoulder as the unfamiliar brunette made her way around him.

“The Capital was bound to discover our society eventually. Because of Cypris we were able to control the information on both what the government learned and the avenues taken in delving further into our business.” Durston refused to give the unknown woman the attention of his eyes, the one thing he had control of.

“We want to thank you for joining us here in Cyphorica. As an outer city we rarely are graced with the presence of those from the Temple or Capital. It’s our hope we can have your full support.” A subtle smile brushed over the captor’s face.

“I know you can’t even imagine helping us, but you will. I have faith you’ll willingly cooperate, but if not…” Turning her back to Durston, giving a dismissal shrug, the rebel made way to an open door. “Cypris will be in shortly to help get you situated. I give this warning, there’s a choker around your neck that is designed to redirect all magic you attempt to incapacitate you.”

Being left alone, Timothy tried an experimental flex of his arm.

Nothing.

Coming from a powerful and successful family, failure wasn’t something Timothy was use to, and so refused to readily accept. Experience from a politically driven father taught Durston that there were ways to turn unforeseeable events into something favorable. But until he knew what his opponents needed him for, nothing could be gained by his escape; making it back to Abstractor Kireek would earn no recognition without intel.

A soft knock interrupted Durston’s contemplation, drawing his attention to the room’s new occupant. Coarse curls caught and reflected what light there was, dancing before the eyes giving Cypris the youthful, innocent look that him and the Realm fell for.

“I’m aware you are most likely angry at me for your current dilemma, but being a young, opportunistic person, it’s our hope you’ll understand our position and validate our standing with the Realm.” Other then when she first entered, Cypris refused to meet Timothy’s eyes. He wasn’t sure what kept the confident girl’s gaze diverted, as it could be a number of reasons ranging from her guilt to his callous scrutiny.

“Priestess Knight wants me to get you comfortable, so I’m going to remove your bindings now. I’m told she gave you a warning already on what will happen if you try anything, I suggest you trust in her threats.” Cypris leaned over Timothy, studying his eyes for a moment for letting out a soft sigh.

“You’re young and come from a privileged standing. You don’t understand what it’s like out here beyond those Temple and gilded walls.” Making way around his prone figure he felt her feather light touch remove the spells placed around him.

“I envy you Timothy, as I’m sure many people do. You know what the difference is between you and I?” Taking a moment to pass him a wistful look, she continued as if not expecting an answer. “Status. That’s all. My magic can do the same thing as any Clerics. I find it difficult to believe that the Great Circle would gift those outside of the Temple if it wasn’t meant for us too.”

Finally feeling the weight lifted, Durston made himself as pleasant as could be expected when given no choice. Trained to always look at placing himself in a position of power he was quick to vacate his bindings and made to escort Cypris to a set of plain chairs. With practiced skill Timothy cunningly moved her seat, removing the sight of his recent captivity from view.

Needing a moment to steady himself and noticing a carafe nearby, Durston thought it best to serve them both a drink. “So Ms. Bloom, why did you have me brought here?”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much. The Coven just needs a fully administered Cleric of the Temple and they sent you to meet me.” Giving a sly smirk, Cypris gave her drink a courtesy sip for dramatic effect. “Priestess Knight is impressed with you. It’s her belief the future can only progress with the open minds of the youth, and she sees you being able to help with that.”

“Progress is laid on the foundation of the wise, lead by experience, and taught by those that have already learned from it. The Witches’ Coven has never approached the Temple on any concerns, hopes of progress or change, but instead have established themselves as adversaries.”

Cypris sprang out of her chair in an irritated flurry. “The whole country is controlled by the Temple and Clerics. No one outside of the Temple’s circle has any say or power, whether it be political, agricultural, structural, or even magical. If anyone dares to speak about discontent of living under ecclesiastical authority, it’s seen as an attack which the Temple is quick to silent.”

Durston mentally slapped himself for speaking his mind, his father’s teachings always emphasized to listen first, and not to say anything that will cause others to be on the defense; unless, of course, he had the upper had. Giving a small cough to break the tension, Timothy nodded Cypris to the abandoned chair. “So what is it that this Priestess thinks to gain by having me here? Is the Coven wanting a Cleric to use as leverage to be heard by the Temple?”

“She hopes that you’re young enough to listen to her and the Coven with understanding, but that’s only secondary to what she needs a Cleric for. No one ever thought of recruiting a Cleric of the Temple, and though it would be beneficial with furthering our knowledge it’s not required. The Priestess wants you to feel free to explore our compound and get to know our followers before discussing your main purpose here.” Cypris calmly stood up and gave Durston a contemplative look before continuing.

“You may walk among us but everyone know what you are. Know that besides that collar around your throat, our members are loyal and will keep watch over you.” Making her way to the exit, she turned once more to Durston. “We surprised the Realm. They never expected a group with our capabilities, thinking they were able to Abstract those with magic before ever gaining power. We are not as insignificant as you want to pretend.”

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Timothy wrongly assumed a night meeting under the cover of darkness would be ideal, as secrecy surely was easier to keep with shadows being your identity.  But the truth was moonlight rendezvous drew more prying eyes than the crowded streets Cyphorica hosting during business hours. Clutching his well-made but travel worn cloak, Durston side-stepped and made slow progress through the packed people; trying not to be noticed, yet feeling exposed under the morning sky.

As with every city and town, the center hosted a church to guide all citizens in government, religion, and education. Timothy made his way to the towering structure that acted like a compass for those unsure of their surroundings. Meeting on Cleric grounds in broad daylight was risky but Timothy understood the idea of secrets in plain view.

Though perhaps not ran down, Cyphorica’s church was built with none of the pride and grandeur typically found with the Cleric’s infrastructure. It was a simple two story wood framed and bricked wall hall, the windows holding no glass but thin stone, letting only light in. Being an outer city, so it lacked the heavy hand the Clerics wielded, as well as their money, power, and influence. The city’s more independent nature was probably the cause for the Realm’s current predicament and poor status of the Cleric’s Church. Timothy never had a reason to travel so far north, or even to many of the outer cities, and the state of the buildings promised be would never have the desire to do so again.

Cypris Bloom, their inside operative, was younger than Durston had expected. At the age of fifteen, Cypris already discovered the art of politics. Wanting more than a few magic tricks and a warrant for treason, she sold her rebel companions with the expectation of a favor. As far as first impressions went, she held true to his image of a naive, ratty child seeking acceptance from her betters. Grasping a translucent cape in the hopes of concealing her mismatched and thread-worn rags, filth covering her knotted hair and hollow cheeks, she bowed in greeting.

“Master Cleric, I wish to give thanks for the Great Circle that guides and protects our lives.”

Timothy gave a slight cringe at the small grace, never before associating the Great Circle as something that encompassed the destitute. “Ah, yes, and you are Cypris Bloom?”

Not waiting for the brisk node of confirmation, Durston made his way to a private booth for them to talk. Already a sour perfume of filth, sweat and the unknown permeated the stale air. Not that his prayers seemed to be effective, but Timothy sent out a silent one that the heretics be cleaner or his nose give out.

Dropping to her knees, as if in worship, Cypris proceeded to inform Durston of all she knew. The ingenious idea of using an open and public place to meet, even if the grounds themselves were currently empty, followed by the way she hid her face and words in devotion finally dawned on Durston. This was all an act. Cypris Bloom in fact was clever and excelled in deception.

*~*~*~*~*

Tim, as Durston now was known since those from the lower classes lacked the formality, patience, and teeth for long names, tailed after Cypris weaving her way through the city and crowds. Being briefed on the background the impoverished girl made up induced mental pain for the highly accomplished and acclaimed Cleric, almost making him dismiss the idea of stealth, the desire to just level the whole city seeming like a simpler solution.

Cast into the role of playing Cypris’s cousin who ran away to join the cause sounded easy at first, until Durston realized exactly what kind of acting he would have to perform: Being mild mannered, submissive to those inferior, forgetting his education, and pulling off street-smarts. The sprint through Cyphorica was enough time for Durston to realize this undercover mission would need to be short, there was just no way he would be able to immerse himself to make it believable.

Before making it to the next location, Cypris ducked into an alley, removing her tattered rags and revealing a clean, plain outfit. Wielding a brush, she made quick work of her transformation from peddler to young woman.

“The building across the road is the business of a small apothecary. It’s through his cellar we will go to meet the Witches’ Coven.”

“Witches’ Coven? Is that what these terrorists call themselves?” Durston gave a pause over the name. In his years of study and being the son of a high ranking lord, he felt sure he’d heard of them.

“Well obviously they aren’t Clerics, and they don’t ever want to be. A Witches’ Coven holds similar beliefs in the power of the circle, but they use herbs, elements, and nature to feed the magic. As a Coven they act similar to the Clerics, drawing upon the magic of many to perform more powerful spells.”

“Spells?” Everything was starting to sounds as if these rebels, these heretics, and uprisers were organized, even trained. To compare the Cleric’s training with this Witches’ Coven was treason, and yet the words sounded familiar. Though not mentioned often in their history, there had been a few encounters with other such groups that referred to themselves as a Witches’ Coven. Their magic was wild often involving noisy rituals, chanting, and even performances. Durston wasn’t sure how much was true, but from what Cyrpis described, they seemed similar.

“Do you know how long ago they were created? Lord Raneer made it seem that this was all new. That only recently you had come to him and joined this Coven in order to serve the Realm. And yet, from the way you speak of them, they sound well established, already having a number of followers. Your own apothecary is in league with these criminals, and it leads me to believe other upstanding citizens may also be corrupted by this plague.”

Cypris dusted her hands, giving him a titled look, dimples forming from a sly and knowing smile. “The Witches’ Coven is older than the Realm, Lord Durston. This…problem…as the Clerics would call it, is one people will always turn to when those in the Capital ignore those below their field-of-view from a castle’s window.”

Shock coursed through Timothy’s body, causing him to straighten his posture in dignity. He was finding it difficult to determine just who’s side this Cypris Bloom was on, and who she truly was. But before he could inquire her words of condemnation of her betters, Durston discovered they were no longer alone. A presence was felt from behind as an arm reached around Timothy, holding his head into a dirty rag, quickly causing him to slip into unconsciousness.

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