The Tributary discussion

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Uldren sighed as he crossed the courtyard, a tired sigh. Another human ship had landed at the docks asking for entrance to the city. This time his sister hadn't even bothered to refuse them herself instead sending Uldren to turn the travelers away. More and more of them arrived each day, and most didn't even manage to get an audience.

"If only they hadn't found us." He smirked wearily. The Awoken had never been one to welcome newcomers. It was safer to keep form the city to keep it's gates closed to the outside. Let the humans deal with their own problems and leave the Awoken in peace. His sister had opened the gates to a few, a decision he would likely never understand. She kept her own council, no one knew what his sister planned.

He paused at the sparring grounds as two paladins hacked at one another with knives. He'd always preferred an knife to a sword, they were faster and lighter. It was more like art than fighting, quick and lethal. The two paladins fell to the ground one pinning the other their knife pricking their opponents skin. Uldren smiled, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards as he watched the two soldier pull them selves back up.

He remembered their names Ilyan and Viycle. Nodding to them as they passed where was standing, he commended each other them on their skill. He turned away from them again and made his way to the grounds. His gaze flickered over the white marble of the keep that towered above him. So different from the tall pines of where he'd grown to be the man he was. He was so far from there now.

Swan was, irked, to say at the least. The “young” women had always found her House very... unnerving to say at the least. You’d think after two hundred years she’d be used to the constant silence and stares- but today she just, snapped. Of course, it was due to the fact that the Devils had “mistaken” Swan for a maid and asked for some sort of beverage. When she didn’t comply- then again she really couldn’t do anything but start walking to her seat. She was unable to speak, after all- the young Lord had dared to grab her wrist and yell at her.

And so, Swan had just started walking out of the Queen’s personal work room- after earning another long, tedious lecture about why she shouldn’t beat a young Devil to the point of making him piss himself.

“Honestly it seemed like it was the best moment of her day when she was trying to keep a straight face..” Swan thought, eyes flickering to the source of clashing blades. A huff escaped her as a dainty hand went to the plain metal pommel of her sword, Ibék. Oh how Swan could go for a trip to her personal chambers. Of course, she couldn’t, not with the constant silence of her House.

“Eugh, if I go back there I think I’ll rip these stitches out and scream until I collapse.“ Her thoughts grumbled, the pads of her fingers touched the golden string that held her lips shut tightly. A sharp pain stabbed at the back of her head, and Swan flinched. “Fucking peachy.” she wanted to growl.

Uldren's eyes fell from the white marble keep his eyes lazily scanning the courtyard. He didn't to enter the keep quiet yet, he had enough of his sister for today. Enough everyone really. His gaze stopped on a figure who he hadn't noticed before. He wracked his memory trying to recall her name, and why he'd bothered to remember her at all. Lady Swanonal, Kell of Silence. the name popped into his head. He preferred to stay away from them despite their Kell's loyalty to his sister. Their sewn lips always put him on edge.

It wasn't that he feared them, he feared what they might do. Anyone who willingly had their lips sewn together was someone to keep at a safe distance. He tilted his head to the side his interest piquing. No. He didn't have the temperament to talk to yet another noble. Another person that he would have to worry about misplacing their sword in his back.

He paused a moment before turning back to the keep his glowing eyes flickering over the Kell of Silence.

Swan dropped her hand to the clip of her cloak, it’s golden symbol bore the mark of her House. A quiet buzz of her lips was enough for her to make some form of sound to make the sparring assistant tense up. The moment the click of the clip was heard, the Awoken male scrambled to grab a sword fit for sparring with her.

Those cold steel eyes of her’s flickered to meet the one’s of Prince Uldren of the Crows. A simple dip of her chin was her greeting before her eyes went back to the sparring assistant, an amused look coming to her for only a mere moment. It was a young boy, no older than one, maybe two hundred years old. He wouldn’t have this job if it weren’t for Swan. After all, she was the one who demanded his presences. Not only was the boy an assistant for whoever spares here, but he took in the grueling task of being Swan’s translator. Being one of few Staff members who can do sign language, and hold a conversation with the silent women was one thing. Being the only one who knew every sign for every word, person, place, name- was another. Swan liked the young boy, favored him. He was intelligent for the average Awoken “teen”.

So, the moment her cloak touched the bench beside her, the boy was right back at her side with the sword fit to match her’s. “Anything else before we start M-my Lady?” the small male stuttered out. Swan shook her head once and began to fix the bandages wrapped around her skin.

Uldren watched the Awoken male scramble for a sword, an amused look crossing his face as his eyes followed him. He didn't recognize the boy, and made a mental note to learn his name in the future. As the Kell of Silence dip her head in greeting. He paused, his head inclining slightly to the side before he returned the greeting.

His eyes flickered over the weapons placed on on the racks that rested against the walls of a nearby gate house. He'd used every single one. Most of them he found to clunky to be any real use on a battle field now. No, the faster you were the less likely you were to get shot. He stared almost longingly at a pair of knives that he was particularity fond of practicing with. Oh how he longed for a challenge. It had been so long since he'd last felt the possibility of loss. So long since the bullet from Sjur Eido's gun as pierced his back. The duel had been his first, he'd earned his first scars then. He'd felt more alive then, than he had in centuries of court life. He had fallen love with it, every moment. He'd fought for his life and brought it to a draw.

He didn't quite know what caused him to take the first step forward. Maybe he need a blade in his hands, an outlet. To let violence wash away the days trouble. "Lady Swanonal." He said taking another step forward, his gaze flickering between the two. "Perhaps you want a more of a challenge?" He said nodding to the sword at her side.

Swan’s head lifted so her eyes met Uldren’s. An elegant brow rose as he asked her to spare. She plucked her gloves off, and dainty but scarred and burnt hands started forming signs. The boy beside her stiffened.
“Alright. I think I need to stretch out my shoulder more anyways.” A flash of relief met the boys eyes for a moment. “I’m curious,” he started, continuing to translate Swan’s signs. “Why me of all people? Surely you could ask those dammed Devi-“ the boy choked on his words and blushed. “Lady Swanonal!” He gasped, turning to look at the grinning fool of a warrior.

“Oh, little Dellana.” her thoughts sighed, amusement written on her expression. Her fingers untangled themselves from her previous sign and dropped down to her sword. Judging buy the length of the grip, she only used one hand. It was the length of one-and-a-half hands, with the pommel being small enough not to get in the way.

Indeed, the blade was surprising to look at. Most of every House, the members own flashy, or colorful weapons. This was not the case for Swan. The only color on her sword was the guard, it’s color black as night against the purely white blade of the sword. It seemed to make its own light. With a faint hum from Swan, the tip of the sword touched the ground, leaving a small cut in the marble floor.

Uldren eyes flickered between the boy and Swanonal's hands, taking in the gestures that the boy seemed to understand. He turned back to the rack of weapons. "I asked you because they weren't on hand." He said shrugging. The Devils were an easy house to watch. Oh yes, they always were ready to grab for more power. Though that wasn't uncommon, every great house wanted more than they were entitled to. "The Devils aren't worth any anger, and if they had heard that boy say the words that you wished to say.... Well he might have been put in a similar predicament as you." He paused making sure she grasped the meaning of his words. "Speech is something I wouldn't want to lose."

He ran a finger over the edge of a dulled practice blade, smirking before tossing it to the side. "I've never liked swords." He said selecting a matched pair of long daggers. "All that hacking and hammering." He smiled, though it didn't quiet reach his eyes. "These have always served me well." He smirked again as he tested the weight of the blades, an approving look entering his eyes.

He crossed the sparring yard, his eyes darting to the cut in the perfect marble floor. He raised his gaze from the floor back to Swanonal, a single brow arching upwards. The sword she held in her hand caught his gaze. The black and white metal of the sword seemed to glow in the light. He hadn't seen a blade like that before, or maybe he had. Though perhaps he would have remembered a blade like that.

Swan pressed the palm of her hand into the pommel, her eyes flickering to his as he spoke. A quiet hum formed in her throat as she listened to him. The boy beside her flushed a dark color, quietly uttering an apology, bowing low. “F-forgive me, Sir..” he swallowed quiet thickly when he spoke of her loss of voice. That was, quiet a touchy subject for the both of them.

The odd thing is, Swan managed to deliver a sickening smile to the Prince’s comment. A rapid set of signs with one hand was enough to say something simple. The boy sighed and translated. “I doubt they’d loose their voice, but more so of another sense.. more so of sight, perhaps?” Then, he bowed out and left them to spar.

The “young” Awoken female hummed, pushing the pommel to one side, her fingers locking around the grip. With a flick of her wrist, the blade twirled, pointing straightforward, it’s blade aimed upward as she held the grip lower than the blade. With a nod, she agreed with his statement of his choice.

Her open hand formed some sort of sign, then found its way to the grip, her ring finger curling around the pommel slightly. “Let us see if the Crow learned something in that forest..” her thoughts hummed, then quickly her mind went blank. With eyes of steel she analyzed his every movement, to his grip to the pattern of his breathing.

Uldren turned the boy, his eyes flashing in the light as he took a half step forward. "Don't ask for my forgiveness boy." He said the corners of his mouth twisting upwards. "I'm not the one that would care." The Devils had a cruel streak. Uldren had seen them drag commoners into the keeps dungeons for not bowing when they passed. Their arrogance matched any of the other houses and then some.

He gestured with the point of his blade, as he turned back to the Kell of Silence. "Who taught you how to fight?" He asked, saluting her with the blade. He took another step toward her, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I've heard stories about you." He paused as if trying to recall something. Not that he'd ever forgotten it. "That you killed the old kell in a duel." His gaze followed her movements, as he watch for a weakness, a bad habit, anything that would give him the upper hand.

Every movement he made was calculated as he took another step forward. He eased his breath, taking in the cool evening air, a welcome chill compared to the warmth of the day. He loosened his grip on the matched pair of knives. Holding them only tightly enough to ensure she couldn't knock from his hands.

He paused just out of range from her blade. "Of course you won't be able to answer." He said as he began to circle her. "Those pesky threads see to that." As he spoke he let his blade fly forward, testing her guard.

Swan’s pupils shrunk at his questions. A flash of emotion crossed them for a hint of a second. Anger. Regret. Then they were gone. How she became Kell was a subject she really didn’t like to, discuss. She’d rather not remember one of the few times she’d allow herself to detach her sanity and go blank. So, when he spoke of the threads that bound her to silence, the dangerous of anger caused by the Devil’s re-bloomed.

“Damn You!” her mind spat, and how she wished she could say it aloud. Swan never feared the consequences of her actions, a bad and good thing. She didn’t fear the downfalls, or possibilities. Didn’t think, sometimes just followed what she knew. So when he spoke of those threads, and when he let his blade fly, her only thought was for him to see he was not to speak of it. Royalty or not. Nobody spoke of what form of torture his father and mother forced onto her.

So, as if it were just a mere simple object, Swan batted it away with her hand and swung her blade, making it clash with his. The strength she used was large yes, but just scratching the bare minimum of her abilities. She didn’t win Kell for nothing.

Uldren watched that emotion flash across her eyes. Was it anger? Or something else? Well at least he knew that was a touchy subject. She hid it well though, the reaction had only been there a secound before she sprang into action. He watched every movement she made after his words left his lips. He had expect a little more anger. Perhaps she hid it far deeper than he thought to look.

His eyes glowed brighter for a moment as she batted his blade away. Annoyance flashing in his gaze. Of course he hadn't expect the move to work. Yet he thought she might have at least panicked, instead she'd simply brushed it to the side. He darted away from her own attack, a small laugh escaping his lips as he did so. "So the cat has claws." He said, laughter dancing in his eyes.

Without much of a pause after that he struck again, and again. His blades flying at her from wherever he moved. His laugh still breaking the silence of the evening.

Swan jerked her chin up when he almost struck her throat. The blade, even dull, managed to cut the skin below her jaw. A grueling hiss left the Lady as she leaned further back, a small hand smacked into the floor, the elegant blade clattering on the marble. Then, there was a sound that echoed in the room, the sound of her foot striking him in between his legs. A cheap trick, but it bought her a moment she right herself. So moment she recovered, her fingers laced themselves on the grip of her blade, and she resumed their violent dance of clashing blades.

Throughout the sparring match, Uldren would begin to notice the Kell’s effort to part her lips to keep breathing in a steady manner. It was a grave disadvantage on her part. The lack of oxygen could cause her to black out- or worse. It was a good thing though, that his sister had her running mile after mile with her elite guards. She figured it would do her some good.

So, when he had her backed into a corner, her lips only curled into an enormous grin, her dark eyes focused on him for a long, extended time, before she charged at him.

Uldren grinned as his blade brushed her throat. He pushed forward preparing to claim the match, his grin widening as he blade hit the floor. He paused waiting for her to yield, a mistake. He let his arrogance get the better of him, and so he didn't expect the kick to his legs. With a small grunt he stumbled backwards, trying to regain his balance. Of course she had already regained her blade by the time he struck at her again.

He pushed against her defense with all he could, slowly backing her into the corner of the ring. A confident gleam entered his eyes as he began to see her struggle or breath. Of course the threads would lessen her supply of oxygen, something he could use to his advantage. "Now don't tell me you're getting worn out." He said gritting his teeth as he struck again.

He paused again, his blades pointed at her. "Yield." He said catching his breath. Again he didn't expect what came next, when she charged him. He darted to the side his blades preparing to block any attack she threw his way.

Swan repeated the word in her mind. Her smile widening more and more. Arrogant little prince. It seems those who dwell in the forest have taught you nothing about me. Her mind hummed. The satisfaction of just that gave the burst of energy for her to charge at the Prince. With a single, fluent set of movements, Swan brought her blade down against his, a dangerous hum leaving her throat as she met his eyes. Her smile was enough for him to know- She’d never yield.

So, the moment their blades met, she darted to one side. And it became clear in a single moment: she was holding back on him. Holding a lot of her power back.
With the speed that outdid his Crow’s, she was behind him in an instant. Her hands clasped around his throat, only barely giving a squeeze. Her lips leveled themselves to beside his ear. He could hear the threads straining when she stopped her humming. A dangerous feeling would boil inside her, and she didn’t quiet like it.

Uldren laughed as he felt her hands clasp around his throat. A deep laugh, filled with surprise and more than a little amusement. He had frozen for a moment, and moment had been all it took. The match had been his, and now her hand was around his throat. His left hand dropped it's blade, and began to creep down to his side, to the small firearm he wore at his side. He leaned in, his eyes flashing in the light. "I'll admit you beat with that blade of yours." He said a grin spreading across his face. "Quite fairly." His hand took hold of the grip of the gun. "But I'm not still alive because of playing fair."

He drove the heel of his foot into hers, pushing himself away from her the firearm already in his hand. "Now now, didn't expect the Prince of Crows to play fairly, did you?" He grinned tossing the gun to the side, still chuckling lightly to himself. "I yield the match to you my lady Swanonal."

Swan gave off a hum of amusement at his words. Her hand dropped to her side, fingers flexing as she cocked her head to one side, listening to the murmuring of onlookers. A sloppy grin took him by surprise as she bowed, just a bit lower than usual. As she righted herself, she called over the young boy, and began to rapidly sign.

The boy cleared his throat. “You certainly have risen my respect for you, my Prince. It seems those who dwell have taught you much about the art of combat, but it seems they’ve gotten lazier. They haven’t taught you much about I. A bit saddening to-“ that was sarcasm.

Uldren's eyes flickered around him to the onlookers before, flashing an arrogant smirk at those who had gathered. He turned back to Swanonal and the boy, not paying the onlookers a secound glance. "They taught me more than you know." He said still smirking. He'd just left for the forest when she'd been named Kell of Silence. he hadn't been sent to the tribes to learn about the houses and their constant bickering. He'd been taught how to use them, to keep power no matter the cost. To be the prince the people needed.

"Though you are mysterious, The Silent One, Kell of Silence." He said his head tilted slightly to the side. "I'll get around to learning your secrets eventually."

The Kell stopped her signing for a moment before turning her head to the translator. She made a few signs and the young boy seemed to pale a few shades. “Ma’am I don’t think he’d take that ligh-“ Swan gave the boy a cold, lifeless stare and he swallowed. “She says, asks if you truly want the reason for her, current state.” He said quietly. A coy smile was on the women’s face as she looked between the two. He wouldn’t like the answer. Wouldn’t take it right.

Nobody really knew of why Swan had the threads removed. She certainly had the power to, and the strength. What nobody but her knew- was that she couldn’t. The Mother of the People made sure of it.

Uldren gaze turned toward the boy, a humorless smile pulling the corners of his mouth upward. "I think I'll decide what I don't take lightly." He knew most of the story behind how her lips had been sealed, he knew his father had ordered it. So whatever this Kell had done, it was bad enough for the king to personally see out her punishment. His father hadn't been one to get involved with the more unpleasant parts of his reign. So for his father to personally get involved, her crime must have been a slight against the House of Kings. Well at least some crime of which his father deemed thought would hurt the throne in any way.

"I know most of the story." He said instead of answering. "Whatever the reason, you were punished by the crown." He paused making his way to the weapon racks, carelessly placing the two knives he used back in their places. "You were deemed guilty by my father and he had your lips sewn together."

Swan cocked her head to one side, and her shoulders started shaking. Her lips strained and she seemed to be.. laughing. A muffled sound escaped her as she touched her stomach, shaking more and more as she laughed. Then, she began to make rapid signs. Her eyes flickering to him, amusement dancing within them as she laughed.

“You know most of the lies they rooted inside your mind. The reason for this-“ Swan motioned to her lips, the very skin around them began to bleed, tainting the golden threads red. “Is something outlawed by the same people that brought you to this wor-.”
Swan swung her head to the side when the boy stopped. Her lips formed a snarl as the young boy swallowed thickly. “My Lady, are you sure you’d like to announce this in front of-“ he looked to the side. At the guards. At Ilyan and Viycle. “-others?”
Swan dipped her head, the blade of her sword dipping into the marble and cutting through it slowly. After a moment, she let go, the sword stood on its own. She raised a hand and dismissed the assumption. She then proceeded to move foreword to the Prince. Laughter shook her shoulders as she stopped infront of him. Oddly, her eyes were holding something of anger and spite. So when she leaned over, to the point of where her lips were beside his ear, she smiled. A crooked, venomous smile. The strain of the threads were loud to him.
“Torture.”

Uldren tilted his head to the side, annoyance flickering in his burning orange eyes. The Kell of Silence was laughing as him. The only other Kell who had laughed at a member of the royal family had lost his tongue. Yet he didn't say anything as she stood there laughing, or attempting to laugh seemed a little closer to the truth. His eyes darted to her hands as she began to sign. A smirk slowly replaced the annoyed look that had graced his features a moment ago.

Again he looked at the young boy as he began to translate. "Lied to?" He said chuckling lightly as the boy continued to speak. "By my parents?" He shook his head. "You assume they told me anything." He paused anger and surprise growing in his eyes as she made to step forward. He didn't stop her as she leaned, his curiosity grew as she came closer. He almost flinched when the word left her lips. That voice, one that he didn't quite expect to hear. 

Something like disappointment, anger, or something else entirely lingered in his eyes as the word left her lips. He leaned down to her ear eyes apologetic but not kind. "You wouldn't have been the first or the last." He whispered. Torture was frowned upon it the City, but that didn't stop the paranoia of monarchs. His own predecessor had tortured a young Devil when he hadn't bowed when Uldren returned to the City. The man hadn't even noticed Uldren, but that hadn't stopped the old Master of Crows. Execution was rare in the city since each Awoken life was precious. Torture seemed like a worthy alternative of punishment for the nobility.  

Swan seemed amused, her body began shaking from her quiet laughter once more. Her lips parted once more as she chuckled, and began to sign a few words.
“My Prince, you must understand this- what they have done is far worse.. then the cut off a tongue, the wounds will heal- but your father and mother have accused me wrongly of so much.” Her hand lifted to the threads, and she pushed apart her lips ever so slightly, dipping the pads of her fingers behind her lips. There was a quiet hissing within her mouth. Something that wasn’t her. “Have you ever had others focus their energy on keeping a small ember alive?” The boy continued. “What about swallowing fire- or maybe even allow one to torture another in a way you yourself made forbidden due to the mere fact it’s almost happened to you-“
Swan pulled out a small, burning coal. The heat from it hissed loudly, crackling in against skin. Oh, how even her parents would never go to that extent of that form of torment.

“Pardon her next words, my prince.” The boy said softly before continuing to translate her one-handed signs. “The sad part of it all- I know who was the cause of his death. Yet I was never able to say it without choking on more of those coals that were wrongly stuffed into me..” The lady lowered her hands, a huff of hair left her nose. It might’ve seemed too much at once, but it had been true. Swan had indeed been falsely accused.

Swan set her jaw correctly and made her way to her weapon. Her pale fingers brushing against one another as she signed on and on.
“Pardon my foul words, my Prince. But I’d like to believe the Master of Crow’s would rather hear the truth rather than live lies.”

Uldren shot a dark look at the guards, Ilyan and Viycle, dismissing them with an angry nod. Why was she still laughing? "Careful now." He warned her, taking a step forward. "Do you want..." He never finished the sentence as a look of horror spread across his features at the coal she held in her finger. That certainly was not something he had expected. For a long moment he didn't say anything simply watched the Kells face. It wasn't right, no one should have had to go through a torture like that. The only sound for a moment was his footfalls as he stepped back. He had seen if fair share of pain and grief, and he'd never seen something like that.

The words that escaped the boys mouth next barely registered as his gaze darted from the ember to Swanonal. "I'll decide what to pardon, boy" He said turning his gaze on the other Awoken. Surely the Kell was lying, a trait oh so common in this city. It was insanity to accuse the former king, or his mother of something like this.

"Don't ask for a pardon when speak something like that." He paused. "If I were my father you'd be asking for your life." He took a step forward again no longer phased by the coal. "And as for living in lies..." He trailed of before speaking again. "My work is made of lies, everything I touch becomes a lie." He cocked his head to the side. "You do not get to choose which lies must be brought to light and which ones must remain in the shadows." With that he pushed passed her to make his way towards the keep, towards his sister.

Yet something made him stop. Something the boy had said that only now he could understand clearly. He turned his eyes burrowing in the Kell of Silence. "Whose death?" He asked, his voice dark and full of anger.

Swan lifted the coal to her lips, pushing it into her mouth once more. A hissing sound came from within, heat burning skin. It settled back into its place in the almost-burnt-through tongue of her’s. When he spoke, her eyes flickered to her, an amused look twinkled in her eyes. “I’d like to believe you’d want to know truly how you lost him.” The boy translated. His voice was faint, eyes casted on the floor. Staying frozen in his spot. He didn’t want to be banished. Didn’t want to be in trouble.

At the Prince’s question, Swan’s eyes closed, and the faint cracking of the coal shifting in her mouth, along with the straining of the threads. How come nobody’s noticed that before? Or the slight hint of rotten flesh- maybe that’s why she wore such strong yet delightful perfume. She had no choice really, the Mother Queen wouldn’t allow her to be anywhere if she didn’t follow a specific line of to do’s.

A grimace came apon her face when she looked at the Prince. Lips struggled to part as the coal burned into the inside of her cheek so she could say those two words. They would have a major affect. Anyone really would be startled by it. “Your father.” She rasped. Her eyes shinning with regret as she lead her translator out of the room.

Uldren watched every move she made as he waited for her to answer the question. He knew the answer, it wasn't hard to guess from her earlier words. Confirmation was all he needed, Not that he was fully considering that she was telling the truth. She was so sure in her accusations, something that gave him pause. He stopped himself from taking another step towards the pair. No, she could say what she wished but he would decide what to believe.

When the two words left her mouth he almost lunged at her. Almost reached for the knife at his waste but he didn't. The only thing he did was turn away, his eyes darkening as he made his way away from the pair. His sister would have wanted the two questioned, she had loved their father far more than he did. Yet he wouldn't tell her of the Kell who knew to much, not yet. His crows would find out exactly what Swanonal wanted, and why she chose to tell him something most would have called treason.

[ End of Roleplay ]