Paths of the Chosen

Aidan
The Realms
Firstday, 5th week of the 9th month, Age of the Chosen 1
Late Morning
Termondoon, Mistvale Highlands

Searlas seemed to be in no hurry to finish breakfast. He engaged Aidan in polite discussions about the philosophy of rule and managing society. To Aidan's surprise, he found himself liking the Chieftan and even agreeing with many of his points. Searlas professed to follow a noblesse oblige-like code, stating that he felt it his duty to provide for his people.

"In fact," he said, gesturing with a piece of buttered bread, "that is how I ended up as Chieftan. The previous Chief, Lughan, was a petty tyrant who delighted in narrow-minded cruelty. Much of what you must have heard of us from the Starchasers is true, unfortunately, and I feel no shame laying the blame squarely at his feet. I am not sure how much you know of our tribal laws and traditions...?" Searlas tilted his head.

"Only the basics, I'm afraid," came Aidan's response. He ate another spoonful of the porridge, which was the highlight of the meal for him. It was thick and hot, with a consistency closer to cream of wheat than grits, and it was just sweet enough to balance the savory main course without overshadowing it.

"Sometimes, I think no one here understands it much, either," Searlas said with a laugh. "We can be a convoluted people. Anyway, there is an unwritten law that someone with a grievance can challenge the Chieftan to combat, and if they win, they are the new Chief. But, of course, it is not quite that easy; the Chieftan can appoint champions to act in his stead, and the challenger must overcome each of them before they can take on the Chieftan."

"That doesn't seem very fair," Aidan observed.

"It is not intended to be," Searlas replied. "Civilization demands stability, and stability cannot be maintained if the ruler is forced to fight for their right to rule every few days. No one would last a year at it. That said, we are daoine cait—" apparently the formal name for 'catfolk,' like cu uisce was for 'otterfolk,' according to Aidan's translation Trait "—and nothing we do is straightforward if we can help it. I knew who Lughan would appoint as his champions and bribed, drugged, blackmailed, and in one case, murdered them before the matches."

Aidan blinked at Searlas's off-the-cuff admission to murdering someone. Aoife's hand returned to his thigh, sharp claws pricking him through his leather pants. He glanced at her; she gave him a minute shake of her head.

Seemingly unaware, or at least uninterested, in the byplay, Searlas continued, "Lughan himself was a fierce warrior—emphasis on was. Once he ascended to Chiefdom, he coasted on his reputation and the loyalty of his closest lackeys. Every few months, he would beat up some hapless slave in the name of 'sparring,'" Searlas's lips twisted in disgust, "but even during the war, he never fought one-on-one with anyone near his skill level. When the time came, he proved to be out of shape and out of practice."

Aidan arched an eyebrow and asked, "I assume you didn't fight him fairly, either?"

Searlas snorted. "Of course not! I fought to win. Never undertake a challenge unless you are prepared to give everything for it, Lord Aidan." He made a conciliatory gesture with one hand and continued, "If it makes you feel better, Lughan poisoned his blades and had his shaman enhance his strength before the match."

"And how did you cheat?" Aidan asked out of morbid curiosity.

"Ah, that would be telling!" the Chieftan laughed. "And I have drifted far from my original point. I deposed Lughan because it was the right thing to do for the people. But, alas, I do not have the power to cleanse all the filth that built up throughout his reign. The commonfolk are behind me, but the nobles still live in the past. You came by way of Criodan's Outpost, correct? Then you know what I mean."

"So you're telling me that you don't support Criodan treating his slaves the way he does?" Aidan was pretty sure that Aoife's claws drew blood at that remark. He reached down and patted the back of her hand.

"Gods, no. That man is almost as vile as Lughan was. Unfortunately, there are too many like him for me to kill them all; it would destabilize the entire tribe."

"Then why give him a position of power like that?" asked Aidan.

Searlas laughed, a short, sharp, ugly sound. "That outpost amounts to exile. There are no valuable resources nearby, nor any settlements—at least not until quite recently. Aside from his personal guard, all the troops at his outpost—and their officers—are loyal to me. He has avoided accidents," Searlas bared his teeth for a second, "so far, but eventually, one will stick. I do my best to minimize the number of slaves he gets his claws on."

"I see," Aidan said, although he didn't. "Why did he give me helpful advice on which gifts to present to you, then? He could have ruined any chance I had of making a good first impression, and it sounds like there's not much you could do about it."

Searlas leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Criodan is an opportunist. He saw a chance to prove himself useful to both of us, so he took it. It cost him nothing, so why not? It would not even surprise me if he intended to plant that very doubt in your head, either; daoine cait seldom act for just one reason."

Searlas rose from his seat. "Thank you for your company this morning, Lord Aidan, Lady Sunnild. Alas, I have less pleasant business to attend to. Please, stay and finish your meals, and feel free to explore the manor and Termondoon after. I will send Aoife to you when I am ready to speak to you of more formal matters. Aoife, Sarita, attend me." He turned and walked out of the dining room.

Aoife and the elven woman stood and followed him, the former shooting Aidan a quick glance before disappearing from sight. As soon as they left, Aidan cast Sound Barrier again and turned to Sunnild. "Thoughts?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "He's sayin' the right things, carin' fer the people an' all, but then he goes an' talks about murderin' people in the same tone of voice. I can't tell whether any of it is an act or not." Sunnild ducked her head. "Sorry."

Aidan reached over and ruffled her crest feathers. "No apologies, love. I couldn't get a bead on him either. Come on, let's finish eating, then go wander around town; maybe that will give us some insight."

"Mm!"

---

Aidan
Mid-Afternoon

Termondoon was not much different from the Starchaser village, Aidan decided. It was more heavily fortified, and there were far fewer glares tossed his way than when he first came to the Starchasers, but overall they were quite similar. I wonder how things would have changed if I'd started here? Aidan wondered for a moment before discarding the thought. He didn't have time for that kind of thought experiment.

He and Sunnild wandered the town for several hours, observing the catfolk commoners as they went about their tasks. As Riama reported, there were only a few collared slaves, and most of the people they talked to seemed content with their lives. Of course, it seemed unlikely that anyone would express open rebellion to a random visitor, so that didn't tell him too much. Still, there were no obvious signs of abuse or repression; children played in the streets, everyone appeared well-fed, and the only times Aidan saw soldiers were when they wandered near the walls.

"Everybody seems happy," Sunnild murmured, confirming Aidan's thoughts. "Honestly, they seem better off than we are back at home."

"Yeah," Aidan agreed, "It certainly seems like a pleasant enough place to live. It's hard to rectify the Starchasers' and Sisterhood's views of the Mist Stalkers with what I'm seeing."

"Searlas did say he's only been in power for a couple of years," Sunnild said. "Maybe it's taken time to turn things around?"

Aidan nodded. That made sense; large-scale changes to societies, even small ones, took time. "It eases my mind, anyway. This is one of the reasons I felt that I needed to make this trip."

"That is good to hear, my Lord," Aoife spoke from ahead of them. Aidan blinked and shook his head as she appeared from within a swirl of the ever-present Highlands fog. This late in the day, the mists were thin and waist-height at best, but he hadn't seen her approach. From Sunnild's reaction, she didn't, either.

"I guess the Starchasers were a little more literal than I thought when they told me that Mist Stalkers blended into the fog," Aidan said with a chuckle. Aoife took a place at his side opposite Sunnild, pressing her furred torso against his arm.

"Indeed, my Lord. Most of our people have the Mist Shroud Skill; it is a variant of Stealth that allows us to move unseen within foggy or misty areas." Aidan slipped his arm around Aoife's waist, drawing a soft purr from the shorter woman.

"All of ya can do that?" Sunnild asked, an edge in her voice.

"Not all," Aoife replied, "and I am more skilled than many, but it is a very common Skill among us, yes." When the harpy didn't respond except with faint curses, Aoife turned her attention back to Aidan. "The Chieftan wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience. A matter of some urgency has arisen, and he hopes to discuss it with you."

Aidan frowned but nodded. "Alright. He's at the manor, I assume?"

"Yes, Lord Aidan. Do you remember the way?"

Aidan tickled Aoife's waist, causing her to squirm against him. "I realize I'm new to town, but it's not hard to find my way to the top of the hill," he teased her.

"Of course, my Lord," she replied, "I only wished to offer you an excuse to follow me." Aoife stood up on her toes and whispered in Aidan's ear, "My skirt is shorter in the back than it is in the front. If I do not take care with my tail, anyone walking behind me would be able to see all sorts of things."

Aidan blushed and adjusted his pants at the mental image but didn't let Aoife loose. "As attractive as that thought is," he told her, caressing the curve of her hip, "I'd rather you walk with me and tell me what I'm headed into."

The catgirl gave a slight huff at his rejection but snuggled into Aidan's side as the trio started to walk up the hill. "As you wish, Lord Aidan. A minor lord named Ailill mac Mara challenged Chief Searlas for the right to rule. I am afraid I do not know what, exactly, Lord Searlas plans to discuss with you, however."

"What about the challenger? You said he's lesser nobility?"

"Yes, my Lord. Ailill is the first-born son of one of the old Chieftan's champions, the one Lord Searlas killed. He left town when Lord Searlas defeated Lughan and only returned recently. Given the challenge, it seems likely that he managed to find several backers among the other nobles."

"What is he like?"

"I did not know him before he left, so my knowledge is second-hand at best," Aoife cautioned Aidan. "Lord Searlas's other consorts tell me that he is vile beyond all reason. You know of Criodan's predilections? Ailill is worse. Criodan enjoys inflicting pain; Ailill licks up his victims' blood and takes his pleasure while he watches the light of life leaving their eyes."

Aidan shuddered, his mind repulsed by the very thought. "How has someone not killed him?" he asked, not understanding how someone like that could have been allowed to thrive.

"He was the son of one of Lughan's closest friends, and he kept his hunts to the lower classes. No one cared if a pretty, but not beautiful, farmer's daughter vanished every few months. No one with the power to do anything about it, anyway," she muttered darkly.

"I see," Aidan said, voice cold. "Then let us hurry to attend the Chieftan."

---

Aidan
Late Afternoon

"Ah, good," Searlas said as Aoife led Aidan and Sunnild into a small meeting room. "Thank you for your swift return, Lord Aidan."

"Of course," Aidan replied, "to do otherwise would prove me a poor guest. Especially in the circumstances; Aoife filled me in on the way back."

Searlas nodded and glanced at his concubine, who remained at Aidan's side. "Indeed, and it is well that she did, for it will save me the time. Let us speak frankly, ruler to ruler, Lord Aidan. When we spoke earlier, you expressed an interest in a 'servant of Aoife's caliber,' correct?"

Aidan blinked at the unexpected question. "Yes, I did," he confirmed. "Although I'm not sure—"

Searlas cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I discussed the matter with Aoife after breakfast. She expressed an interest in you as well. I care for all of my servants, Lord Aidan, and Aoife is uniquely vulnerable to abuse due to her condition. If she told me that she opposed the matter, I would have refused any price. With her consent, however, I am willing to consider. Yet, I do not know you well, and it would break my heart to release her into your service only to find out later that you mistreated her. More to the point, it would cause ... difficulties ... between us."

Aoife was stiff and still at Aidan's side, seemingly as surprised as he was by Searlas's words. Even her gentle sub-sonic purr ceased.

Lord Searlas rose from his seat and started to pace, tail lashing the air behind him. "So far, you seem to be exactly who I would want in a neighbor. The signed peace treaty was a superb start; do not think I missed your signature, Lord Aidan. I also spoke with the soldiers who escorted you from Criodan's outpost and with those who shadowed you earlier today." He smirked at Aidan's disgruntled look. "Oh, none of that, you would have done the same to me if I visited Ceallach Macht out of the blue, Lord Aidan.

"From what I have seen and heard, you are a good man, and so I am willing to make a deal with you. In exchange for transferring Aoife's ownership to you, I ask for three things. First, you must swear never to strike her, abuse her, or otherwise mistreat her. I will have one of my scribes work up a suitable oath. Second, you will accept another of my servants into your household for the express purpose of monitoring the way you treat those beneath you. Third, you will act as my first champion against Ailill mac Mara."

"No!" shouted Aoife. She sprang toward Searlas, then stumbled and fell to the ground with a strangled gasp, hands scrabbling at the golden collar around her neck.