Myrken Wood by Night (cont'd.) -- Dead men tell no tales.

[Varian]

This is a continuation of the recent post by the same name in the "The Tavern" section of the forums:

-----

"You just left him there, in the woods?" Gage questioned quietly, eyes wide in confusion.

"The wolves will take care of the body. Besides, I doubt he would have made good company." Varian replied but, smuggly. Gage shook his head at that, turning his eyes to his boots while his hands fidgeted with their fingers. "And if they do not? You will be blamed for this." The young man sighed softly, as if it were his burden to bear.

"No, Gage. I will not be blamed. There are few within the Broken Dagger that know be by name, and fewer still who know that I am.." He trailed, and only for the sake of his trusted coachman.

"They will blame Lucian, or the demon that roams about the area.. not me." Varian consoled.

Gage glanced up again, toward the Baron. "Do you care so little for Lucian's safety, now?" Gage inquired, though he winced when the question left his lips.

"Lucian is no longer the man I once knew as my friend, Gage. You know this just as well as I." The Ventrue replied just before he lifted his goblet to his lips and swallowed the remaining portion of the wine within.

They had been sitting at the large table, in the dining room of the Gathering Storm, the large manor in the valley of shadows, not twenty miles from Myrken Wood proper.

Gage watched the Baron drink, a confused expression upon his youthful visage. "You know you do not need to humor me, my Lord." He said, finally.

Varian stared down the length of the tabletop with his well known, solemn expression and nodded slowly. "Not all of my actions revolve around my company, my friend. I keep your company because I find it enjoyable. Can I not pretend to retain just an ounce of my humanity? Perhaps, only to humor myself?"

Gage glanced away again. The youth lifted his mug of ale and downed the rest as well. He felt apologetic, for that remark but, he was always too aware of his weaknesses when in the company of his employer.

[Lucian]

A large pounding sound banged into the front door of The Gathering Storm as Varian indeed sipped his wine, and moved to conceal himself within his own thoughts. Who could this be, at this hour of the night? The pounding increased, as if the anxious banging had gained some urgency, and surely didn't seem as if it would stop until the door was opened.

Who could it be? Who else but Lucian, the former trusted advisor of Varian. He had important news to share with the Baron, and his incessive knocking and pounding upon the door and the knocker would hopefully soon gain him entrance into the place he too once called his home when he first arrived within this land.

A scowl passed upon his lips, old Gage was losing his sense of urgency when it came to opening doors, it seemed. But Lucian only intensified the pounding. Maybe he would entice that old sport, Varian, to open instead .. wouldn't that be a treat, to see the Baron's scowl at such a late intruder, only to have it increase into a grimace as he saw Lucian standing there?

A soft chuckle escaped him, and one more fist to the wood of the door which opened his knuckles up wide. He would be let in, or he would break the door down, it seemed .. his news must have been urgent.

[Varian]

Gage was but the coachman of the Baron DuMonde, employed and paid, not enslaved. In any case, it was Varian who would see that the great doors of the manor were opened.

As they were pulled wide, the Baron stood within the threshold and stared through the eyes of his former apprentice. It was a long moment of unsettling silence. Varian's features were set in that recognizable, solemn expression.

Was it Lucian's belief that simply by assisting him after the battle with the fire witch that he would be welcomed back into the walls of the Kindred prince's sanctum?

"What is it you seek here, Lucian?" This said before Varian stepped forward, as if to barrier the passage of the Tremere into his home and fortress.

It was a swift enough inspection which would ened with Varian turning away abruptly and entering the storm once more. The doors left wide, in invitation for Lucian to follow.

Through the halls, into the throne room. A place Lucian might be more familiar with after the massive refurbishing of the storm in whole.

If the two were to meet and discuss what it was Lucian had so urgently presented, it would be on hallowed ground. Even the Tremere knew to respect the elysium of the elder Kindred's domicile.

[Lucian]

"We have business to attend to, Varian."

Lucian said quietly before the Baron turned and moved through the halls. Slowly, quietly, Lucian followed, trailing back a few paces while serpentine eyes moved within their sockets to regard the place he had once called home. No, he would not attack on a place of Elysium, even if his business tonight was assassination -- which it wasn't.

The Magus came to talk diplomacy and business, for things were getting heated around the collar for Cainites within the land, be they Camarilla, Sabbat, or Caitiff. As they walked, golden, snake-slitted orbs gazed over once-familiar surroundings, before he spoke again.

"Dallamar was even able to defeat Kanashia the following evening .. even that caitiff whelp was able to bloody the good Captain."

It might appear his words were small talk, but they had a specific meaning. They would be the intro to the rest of the business he was planning to speak with Varian about. A mild chuckle followed his words to the Baron, for perhaps they could share a good laugh amongst one another for the first time in as many years.

But the Tremere would say no more after that, well not until they reached a place to sit and talk like gentlemen. They may be murderous, lecherous, depraved leeches, but they weren't like the Captain -- they had class. It was just a choice as if they should show it to the locals when they were tearing into their throats or not.

Moving quietly behind, quickening his pace some to catch up, for he had lagged a little behind while looking at Varian's souveneirs, a collection of years of undeath, throughout the hallway in which they walked. Wringing hands together anxiously, he lapped at his lips again, continuing to follow his former master.....