When Heroes Die

“Not to worry, Chancellor, I’m sure the traitors in the Empire will own up to their machinations soon enough.”

— Dread Emperor Imperious

Louis de Sartrons examined the scarlet haired woman seated across from him. The Circle of Thorns did not have much information on her — they were primarily focused on external, rather than internal, threats — but it would be a failure of their purpose had they failed to compile anything of note about another intelligence agent active within the Principate at all.

Their rather brief dossiers on her mentioned that she was an orphan. The lands up north were harsh, and those who did not learn to adapt to their cruel circumstances earned themselves a northern burial. Her parents had died at a young age. She had been recruited by Princess Mathilda’s intelligence network shortly after she had found herself living on the streets. The name of Songbird had been assigned to her at some stage in her career. It had stuck. She was in her mid-twenties now and had been serving in her capacity as a spy for many years.

She had taken to courtly intrigues like a fish to water once recruited.

Recent information on Songbird was sparse, although not for a lack of investigation. She had dropped out of her service to Princess Mathilda seemingly overnight, before appearing again in the service of one of the more recent of the Chosen to wander the Principate of Procer. The decision was marked as anomalous. People in their trade were not known for having abrupt flights of fancy.

Louis decided that it was her — and none of the others within the group that had arrived uninvited — who was the one responsible for the unearthing of the Circle’s establishment of choice. The evidence suggested that she would have been made aware of their headquarters during her tenure in service to Princess Mathilda.

That knowledge was no less dangerous because it had been acquired by means that had since been closed to her. It was unfortunate that the Circle of Thorns would need to relocate in the wake of their discovery. Songbird’s subtle message was not appreciated, but accepted in the spirit that it was given.

Songbird did not consider the Circle of Thorns to be an enemy.

She would not have provided forewarning by appearing at their door if she felt otherwise. They would most likely have all perished by poison if she saw them as foes. It would have been a mistake for an opponent to alert them to their presence in this way. It gave the Circle of Thorns a more accurate read on what she were truly capable of.

“I suggest that you find more gentle methods of persuasion in the years to come,” Songbird stated.

“Your current employer disapproves of our current approach to interrogation.”

It was the most reasonable conclusion to draw.

“She’s more durable than the Saint of Swords and about as dangerous. Unlike other heroes, she has an active interest in involving herself in the political landscape. It is in your best interest not to earn her ire because sooner or later she will achieve the ends she desires.”

“I take it that you would prefer for the transition to be less… bloody.”

The news was disquieting. While it did not come as a surprise that one of the Chosen would disapprove of torture — particularly one of Compassion’s children — it was no less of a complication to the duties they strove to undertake.

“Do you wish to play out the full song and dance, or would you rather skip the pleasantries?” the woman asked him, tapping her fingernails on the table.

“There is a service that you wish the Circle of Thorns to perform for you,” Louis de Sartrons surmised, raising his half empty wine glass to his lips once more.

It was easy enough to deduce. Where once, Songbird would have had the ability to call on the services of the Neustrian intelligence, she was now limited to whatever she was able to cobble together on her own. The fact that she had waited until her employer had departed before broaching the subject implied a vulnerability in their relationship, but not one that Louis was presently interested in exploiting.

Those who put their hands too close to the fire of the heavens had an unfortunate habit of erupting in flames.

“In part,” she agreed. “I’d appreciate it if the Circle of Thorns would be prepared to perform a minor favour for me.”

Opening their negotiations by requesting a favour was an intelligent decision on her part. People felt better about themselves when they were given the opportunity to perform a service for others, leaving them more amenable to a long term relationship.

“The request for a favour implies that you are in a position where you are able to return something tangible to us,” he replied.

“The Holies will be discreetly transporting a large collection of sensitive documents near the Starlit Cloister sometime in the near future. I would like to be notified of the precise details surrounding the relocation.”

“Internal conflicts within the Principate fall outside the duties of the Circle of Thorns,” Louis de Sartrons lowered his glass and steepled his fingers on the table.

“There may be intelligence within their records which assists with your current investigation.”

“That will be taken into consideration,” Louis replied.

It was a clever ploy to encourage the Circle to act, but he was not so easily swayed.

“I would advise against recruiting Esme,” Songbird changed the topic.

“Is there a reason for this beyond being a well-meaning suggestion not to pouch the employees of another?”

“Esme is counted among the damned. The Aspirant is attempting to redeem her, but the road towards anything resembling redemption is long.” Songbird leaned forward.

“She has not committed any noteworthy felonies. Several minor thefts that could all be… brushed aside should she serve the Principate faithfully.”

“I suggest declining when she appears outside your door to accept your offer. Her sole motivation is her vengeance, and she is prepared to knife anyone in the back to achieve it. The Circle of Thorns is nothing more than a means to an end to achieve her desires.”

“You have proof to support your allegations?”

“The burn on her cheeks is from direct exposure to the Light. It is likely that when she shows up to accept your offer, she will come to you with information on the inner workings of our group. She will claim that what she knows is sensitive and intended to be kept secret from outsiders.”

The implication was that Songbird believed it not to be. It might be a transparent ploy to cast doubt on the words Esme might speak in future, but it may also be genuine. There remained an easy way to determine which of the two it was.

It was also the less important revelation. It was imperative that all who were in the employ of the Circle were loyal to the Principate above all. Willingness to betray a previous benefactor was an obvious indication of the willingness to betray another in the future. The offer of employment had been made in front of Esme’s current guardian for that reason. It was both a courtesy and a precaution to avoid further complications.

“Then you would not be afraid to speculate on the nature of what she might divulge?”

Louis de Sartrons doubted that Songbird was lying. It would be foolish for one in her position to attempt deception where the bluff was easily called.

“It wouldn’t be an issue at all. Taylor’s goals aren’t a secret, because that would defeat the purpose of them. She requires legitimacy above all else, which means she cannot claim what she wants by either deception or force of arms.”

Songbird began to speak. She outlined the broad strokes of Taylor’s plans, as well as some of the specifics which had already been set into motion. The long term ramifications of her schemes did not concern the Circle of Thorns, provided that Songbird was telling the truth.

Louis de Sartrons thought on their discussion long after she had departed.

The offer to Esme would remain open only so long as she remained open with the Aspirant and departed on amicable terms. The girl had a talent which would prove useful within the Circle of Thorns if it was correctly nurtured. However, it was an ability only as useful as whatever other positive qualities that the girl might possess.

Furthermore, she would only be accepted among their number so long as she anticipated this discussion on the part of Songbird.

Esme might not be aware of the machinations that she was embroiled within, but that would be no excuse for a lapse in her vigilance. The Circle of Thorns never saw the face of its foes in the games of cloak and dagger that it played.

It had surprised Esme how easy it was to escape the presence of the other Chosen. Taylor had sailed off with her guards early in the morning. Songbird had returned soon afterwards, but the unnerving woman had made no mention of Esme leaving the tawdry establishment.

The laxness of the other hero’s security would have been enough to steer Esme into considering departing, had she not made up her mind already.

She had contemplated the offer that had been made to her for over the span of a day and concluded it was one that she wished to take up. Esme was willing to concede that while Louis de Sartrons had been responsible for her state of distress, the blame lay in part with her. She had misread the Circle of Thorn’s intentions. It stung to admit fault. She had not held the man’s interest so much as what she was able to divulge about her family.

Sharing what she knew had opened up new opportunities for her vengeance.

The tacit invitation to join the Circle of Thorns was an opportunity to escape from the smothering unwillingness to act of the other hero. She had seen enough of the Circle of Thorns to intuit there was no weapon they were unwilling to wield in order to chart the perilous waters of foreign espionage. Esme had initially dismissed them from her thoughts. She considered them to be an inappropriate knife on account of her focus being more insular. Circumstances had led her to revise her opinion.

The corruption within the nobility extended as far as the lands abroad.

Which was how Esme found herself standing outside the doors of the Les Horizons Lugubres once more. This time she had arrived alone.

“I have an appointment with Loius de Sartrons,” she declared imperiously.

The attendant did not question her claim and guided her further within the establishment. It was likely that she had been recognized from the day before.

The Les Horizons Lugubres was a respectable tavern. The interior had been redecorated over the span of a day. None of the alcoves maintained the same adornments, and every room that she inspected appealed to her sensibilities. It was a place much more suited for one such as herself than the Snake’s Nest. Esme suppressed the urge to shudder in recollection.

She was guided to an outside balcony furnished with tables that were shielded from the elements by large, green umbrellas. They towered upwards and had been shaped so that they appeared almost like fir trees in winter once the peaks had been coated with snow. A small footpath led towards the table her host was seated at.

A log fire had been lit around the edge of the balcony, maintaining a cosy warmth in direct contrast to the cold.

Louis de Sartrons sat at the table furthest from the door, with documents piled before him. Esme approached. The stone statues in the garden below were painted in white frosting. She turned her eyes back towards the skeleton that she planned to negotiate with.

“I bid you welcome,” Louis stated.

He stood up to greet her.

“Good afternoon,” she replied, affecting a demure smile.

She sat down opposite the man. He did much the same.

“Have you considered my offer then?”

“I have taken my time to deliberate on it and have decided that I wish to enter your employ.”

“And what of your previous benefactor?” He raised an eyebrow. “Is she aware of your intentions?”

Behaviour: Eyes narrowed, despite relaxed posture.

Tone of voice: Attempt to mask interest in answer by pretending boredom. The answer is important.

Speculation: The status of the relationship between Esme and Taylor was significant.

That didn’t surprise Esme. It made sense that one who worked with the Circle of Thorns could not have divided loyalties. It was best to reassure the man that her relationship with Taylor was at an end.

“I have no loyalty to the Aspirant. She offered me shelter and hospitality of her own free will, but I neither like nor respect one who is unwilling to act decisively in an effort to mend the hull of this broken ship,” Esme explained.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

And so Esme continued to speak.

It was only halfway through her denunciation of Taylor’s plans that she was struck by a significant realization. None of what she had imparted had come as a surprise to the man.

“You are already familiar with these revelations,” she stated with conviction.

“I am afraid that a person with your loyalties is incompatible with our duties,” the man consoled. “I hope for your sake that you are able to reconcile with your benefactor.”

Tone of voice: dip on the word loyalties. Implication that having loyalty is important. Display of a lack of loyalty has lost his interest.

Word choice: “Reconcile” not “return,” suggests Taylor already knew about Esme’s betrayal.

Speculation: Can alleviate circumstances by clarifying that Esme was never loyal to Taylor.

“You are operating under the misapprehension that I was ever loyal to Taylor. She may have sheltered me from the storm, but I was always acting in my own interests.”

“I have determined that you are not prepared to be loyal to anyone whose interests do not perfectly align with your own.” the man breathed in, paused, then frowned.

Esme prepared to reply.

“Perhaps in other circumstances your talents may have served our purposes. It is unfortunate that we must part ways. I bid you farewell.” Louis de Sartrons turned away from Esme, pointedly looking down at the documents on the table below him.

Esme did not need to attempt to Discern the man to see what truths lay beneath the skin. She had been dismissed.

Esme left the Les Horizons Lugubres in a daze.

It appeared that she had been outmanoeuvred by someone that she had held little respect for at all.

She drifted like a raft lost at sea. Past merchants hawking wares and beggars on the side of the road. Not once did she stop to examine anyone. Not once did she look at anyone’s wares. There wasn’t a single part of her that paid attention to the snow strewn path her feet took her along.

She felt empty.

Esme had thought herself so clever. She had schemed her way to safety. First finding refuge among another of the Chosen, then finding a path to leave them behind and advance her own goals.

No, no, she would recover from this. It was only a minor setback.

She arrived back at the Snake’s Nest without even realizing where she had walked to. Esme passed the crowds on the bottom floor — the establishment had become even more congested once word of Taylor’s presence had spread — and ascended the stairs to the Chosen’s suite.

“Y’know I wasn’t sure you’d bother to show up,” Songbird grinned at her.

It was not a pleasant grin.

Clothing: deliberately dishevelled. Crease lines should not be there.

Accent: Affected.

Connect: Prior evidence indicates Songbird acts to put her interlocutor at ease. Current circumstances contradict that.

Speculation: Songbird is attempting to annoy Esme.

“Would it cost you too much to wear one of your other masks?” she bit back.

“Nah. Don’t think I will. Y’see, I’ve had you pinned right from the start. Knew you were gonna try something like this.”

Word choice: “Knew,” not “suspected.” Suggests this outcome was planned.

Esme ignored the information. Not because it was incorrect, but because she believed that the woman knew enough about Discern to fool it. She had nothing but her own hunch to support that theory, but it was inconceivable that the woman could play her otherwise. She would need to rely on her own wits.

Esme stalked past Songbird along the madder red carpet and claimed one of the leather seats. If she was to converse with the infuriating woman, then she might as well do it with some small measure of comfort.

“Allow me to remind you that it is not you but your master that determines who remains if you intend to tell me to leave.”

“Y’think you’re special because you have a Name. You believe that the world owes you something. You aren’t and it doesn’t.” Songbird sat down opposite to her.

“A fascinating fable, only it appears that the world itself disagrees. Perhaps you are bitter that you are not chosen yourself?”

“I played you like a fucking fiddle from beginning to end with nothing but my own damn head to do it.”

“And yet you answer like a slave when your master calls.”

“Y’know, Taylor gave me lotsa warnings about you. Makes you wonder. If Taylor knew enough to warn me about all the things you can do, then why wasn’t she the one to sit you down like this?”

“She does not have the strength to make hard decisions.”

Songbird snickered, then laughed. “Thatsa good joke. The woman who let the pissy little brat who hurt her daughter into her house because that brat was in danger can’t make hard decisions. S’not like it would have been easier for her to just leave you out in the cold.”

“I am-”

“Let me lay it out for you,” Songbird interjected. “Y’want revenge but y’don’t even have a plan for it. I saw through your betrayal before it even happened. You’re so paranoid that you’ll never find anyone able to meet your standards for trust, and you just tried to knife the only person who’ll care you for in the back. If your brother was still alive, he’d kill himself again from shame at the stupidity you display on a day by day basis. It’s that fucking embarrassing.”

Esme stilled.

Fury welled up within her. Anger and indignation at the scar that Songbird was digging into. Her mouth opened.

Songbird was across the room and a knife was pressed against Esme’s throat before she even processed what occurred.

Her breathing hitched.

“This is what’s gonna happen. You’ll tell Taylor exactly what you tried to do and apologize. Then you’ll listen to what she has to say. Then you’ll accept whatever judgement she decides to mete out.” Songbird patted her cheeks.

A violent mix of loathing, terror and disgust churned within her. Esme wished to pour vitriol at the woman who dared threaten her. She knew better than to risk speaking.

Esme couldn’t even nod her own head without nicking her neck on the blade.

Songbird stood up and started to walk away.

“Oh, and if you think of even trying to betray Taylor again… I’ll rip out your intestines and feed them to you before you bleed out. Understand?”

Not another word was said.