Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, Essek, so, quick update, we kind of found a spy from the Empire, what should we do? Thanks, love you!”

Essek takes a moment to recover from the shock of that message, and another to formulate his response. “I’m teleporting to Asarius now,” he says. “Keep the spy under guard. Either meet me at the Aurora Hold or send another message.”

“What is it?” The Bright Queen asks, looking up at Essek. 

“It seems our new friends have uncovered an Empire spy,” Essek notes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She dismisses him, and Essek makes his way to the circle leading to Asarius. In a matter of minutes, the group of them is there. 

They look more than slightly injured, with Mollymauk as always the worst, but they are all still standing. Jester is waving brightly, Nott drinking, and Fjord holding the spy in place where they kneel, manacled. 

The spy is human, that much is obvious, pale skin and red hair, dressed in clothing typical for Xhorhas. A quick glance displays a ring, charged by transmutation magic, clearly the reason the spy was able to get so deep, and bracers enchanted with abjuration, mostly likely bracers of defence. Two bright blue eyes stare upwards, at him, accompanied by a smirk. 

“That was really fast!” Jester says. “So, this is Bren and we met him in a tavern and we thought that he was the one opening up the weird demon rifts - we found some weird demon rifts, by the way - but then he helped us fight the demons so we don’t think it was him, and he kind of agreed to come along without fighting us?”

“Yeah, he’s a fucking dumbass,” Nott supplies. 

“He says that he has information for ‘people important in the dynasty’,” Fjord explains. “Not certain what that means, exactly.”

“It means him,” the spy says, still smirking. “Shadowhand, how do you feel about taking down the Cerberus Assembly?”

When Bren Aldric Ermendrud is twelve, he meets a wandering librarian, dressed in blue. 

“You have an impressive mind,” the librarian tells him. “How do you feel about serving your Empire?”

He gives his parents a tearful goodbye, and he comes to Zadash, to the Archive of the Cobalt Soul. He is trained as a librarian, as a researcher. He reads more books in a day than there were in all of Blumenthal.

When he is eighteen, he catches the eye of Expositor Tubo, and he begins training as an Expositor. 

As a child, Bren grew up with a wide-eyed idealism about his country. As an Expositor, he sees corruption at every turn. As an Expositor, graduated, he turns from compiling esoteric theories to ones based heavily in reality. He turns to research, under Expositor Dairon, on the Cerberus Assembly. 

When war is declared, he and Expositor Dairon each begin their separate missions. To enter Xhorhas, to make their way to the heart of the Dynasty, and to uncover any evidence of the theorized connection between members of the Dynasty and the Assembly. 

He makes it to Asarius, where he gets caught up investigating a group of adventurers with high up ties, and helps them fight back invading demons from the Abyss. 

Altogether, it is even more pieces of the puzzle slowly beginning to unravel; a puzzle that he presents, if not in full, to Shadowhand Essek Thelyss. 

“The war was started,” Bren explains, “when you tried to reclaim the two stolen relics. My associates and I have found some evidence that suggests that whoever stole these relics had an in. Was a member of the court, perhaps, and was working with the Cerberus Assembly.”

“We’ve considered the possibility,” Essek says, “and ruled it out.”

“Ah,” Bren says. “So you find it is more likely that the Empire has managed to have spies infiltrate the heart of the Dynasty, with no notice whatsoever, despite the plentiful magical safeguards you must have, instead of the concept that one of your number might have allegiances that align more with the Assembly than with yours? If the Abyssal Anchors are related, as I think they must be, this allegiance may not even be to the Empire, or the Assembly, but an outside force acting to promote strife and chaos across both our lands.”

“An interesting theory, Expositor,” Essek says. “But I have no reason to trust you.”

“They are from the Empire as well, and yet they have earned your trust-”

“Technically,” Jester interrupts, “Fjord and I are from the Menagerie Coast,” Jester says. “And Yasha is from Xhorhas - she’s our friend but she’s not here right now - and Molly isn’t really from anywhere-”

“Outsiders to the Dynasty,” Bren notes, “Who earned your trust by returning one of these relics. What if I could do the same?”

Essek laughs, at that. “You may be persuasive enough for me to be lenient, but that does not mean I am going to just hand you the opportunity to escape.”

“I wouldn’t go for it myself,” Bren says. “You can send a team. But it must be small. If the Assembly learn that the location of the Beacon has been found, they will move it, so it is imperative that this information be kept secret, lest any traitors or spies alert them.”

“I know how to keep information this important close,” Essek says. “Where is the beacon?”

“It has been sent recently to Felderwin,” Bren says, “Where the Assembly have hired on an alchemist to conduct experiments upon it.”

“An alchemist?” Nott asks, looking up for the first time. “Is it a local alchemist, or someone they brought in?”

“A local alchemist, I believe,” Bren says. 

“Fuck,” Nott says. “Essek, you have to send us.”

“You are very...capable,” Essek says, looking over the group of them, “but this is an extremely important operation. If this information is correct, we may not get another chance at this beacon for years.”

“I know the alchemist they sent it to,” Nott says. “His name is Yeza Brenatto, and he’s my husband.”

“If this is a trap,” Essek says, “and they get hurt, in any way, you will pay for this more dearly than you can even imagine.”

“Interesting,” Bren says. “You care for them.”

“Perhaps,” Essek says. “They are talented assets. And the unique personalities...grow on you, given time.”

“I’m sure,” Bren notes, stifling a small chuckle underneath the words.

“What next?” Essek asks. “You’ve planned the rest of this out so well.”

“Next?” Bren asks. “We uncover the traitors and end the war. Simple, ja?” 

The smile that crosses the Expositor’s face is soft and bright, and it feels blindingly honest, despite all the reasons it really, really shouldn’t be. 

“Well then,” Essek notes, the hint of a smile dancing at the corners of his own lips, “let’s get started.”

Chapter Text

“I was under the impression you had just gotten new recruits,” Annex Vence Nuthaleus says. 

“I did,” Oban replies, through the sending stone. “Or, an old recruit returned to me. She’s the one who got rid of my current retinue.”

Vence sighs. “I’ve been given one of Ikithon’s castoffs,” he says. “It might prove of some use.”

”I don’t need your pity, I need time,” Oban hisses. 

“I can’t give you time,” Vence says, and sighs even heavier. “Don’t tell me you can’t use a Scourger. Even if it’s as bait in one of your lost tombs.”

There is the sound of grumbling, but Oban accepts. 

“I’ll send the Scourger to the standard location outside Asarius. Do what you will.”

The spell of the sending stone fades. Vence stands, and exits the chamber. It doesn’t take him long to find the Scourger, who’s snaps to attention upon sight, eyes wide and eager for a mission, like some kind of dog. Pitiful. 

“I have an assignment for you,” he says. “Let me give you the briefing.

She was always a bright girl, not that her parents ever saw it - not that her parents ever saw anything about her. She was a fast reader, a fast learner. A prodigy, her tutors would say, not that it ever got her anything. 

It was someone who came to meet with her father that gave her the first book. He looked at her curiously, and slipped it and to her while her parents were distracted. 

“I wonder,” he had said, “How impressive you’ll end up being.”

She studied that book as hard as she could, and did her best to ensure the answer to that would be very. She’d never been given a present before, not a present meant for her instead of the perfect daughter she was meant to be.

When she was accepted into Soltryce, her parents - it isn’t that they didn’t care, they had some measure of pride, it was a very prestigious school, after all - but they didn’t care. And why would they? She had stopped caring about them a long time back - at least, that’s what she told herself

She wasn’t the typical, of Ikithon recruits. Her parents weren’t nobility, but she was hardly a farmer’s daughter. She wasn’t mocked for her background - just her abrasive nature.

But Ikithon always had an eye for promising students, and he saw a girl with a hunger for acceptance and a fire burning in her core, a girl who wouldn’t be missed by her family, who had no friends, only people who hated her, and who she hated back. A girl who would be forgotten.

They don’t ask her to kill her parents; that wouldn’t have proved a thing. They ask her to kill a girl from the city, a regular hookup, the closest thing that could be called a friend.

She killed the traitor without a second thought - she didn’t need friends, now that she had a family. A real one.

The Scourger wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this assignment. Not, of course, that they were doubting the mission, or doubting the Annex. Maybe it was just how long it had been since she had been given an assignment. 

No, she was pretty sure the boss being a fiend was weird. Not that she was complaining, but it definitely wasn’t the standard. 

The Orphan Maker, though? The Orphan Maker reminded her of family. She was more raw strength than magic and cunning, but the brutal edge was one the Scourger was familiar with. The crying, though, well, she knew some of her siblings had spent their training in tears, but crying out on the mission? That was a bit strange. 

Maybe it was religious. They both were heretics, after all. Heretics has their uses, though, as the Annex certainly knew. That was one of the main reasons the Scourger was supposed to give frequent reports. That or the fiend thing, perhaps. 

Oban was also a very...distracted...boss. That was fairly typical, from her experience, but it didn’t make standing around while he read through old books any less boring. And he never let her near any of them, even though he had to know she was a goddam wizard. So, instead, she leaned up against walls with the Orphan Maker and made plans for every possible ambush or attack that might be about to come.

It took a long time, standing in silence together, for the Orphan Maker to talk. It wasn’t until Oban was deeply distracted in his nonsense that she did, in a voice surprisingly soft given that the only sound she ever made was screams of rage.

”What’s your name?” she asks. She sounds gentle. There was probably poetic stuff to be said, about the way she talked.

”I don’t have one,” she says. “I’m just a Scourger. Thunder, if we’re in a crowd, on account of all the lightning. Just like you’re Orphan Maker,” she adds.

The Orphan Maker frowns at that. “Yasha,” she says, even softer.

”Yasha, huh?” The Scourger says. There’s a flicker of light in the Barbarian’s eyes. “Good to know.”

Oban seemed to find whatever he’d been looking for, in the books, and rose. As he did, the spark of life in the - in Yasha’s eyes vanished, as quickly as it had appeared.

”She’s been charmed, hasn’t she?” The Scourger asked.

”What of it?” Oban asks. “I didn’t think one of the Assembly’s dogs to be squeamish.”

”I’m not squeamish,” she retorted quickly, although before she could even say it the teasing in Oban’s voice had already given way to boredom. “It’s just impressive, that’s all.”

”Of course you would find it impressive,” Oban says. “It was simple - she was loyal to me, once before, and it is easy to return to the fold. I’m sure you can relate.”

She couldn’t. Scourgers didn’t ever leave the fold. They served, and they did so until they died. There had been those who had failed initiation, but traitors? There were no traitors, in their ranks. It said a great deal about Oban that there were in his. 

Charming someone so completely, to do missions such as these, it sat poorly in her stomach, like a slow moving poison. The Annex has ordered her to obey Oban, to further his goals, for the good of the Empire. But more and more the whole situation seemed wrong.

More in more, she found herself wondering if, perhaps, she could free Yasha from the hold the fiend had over her. To - to run away.

It was a dangerous thought - a traitorous one. Oban wasn’t of the Empire, but he was her mission from an Annex. And she was loyal, to the Empire, to the Assembly, to Ikithon and the Scourgers, who were her family, deeper than blood. And she was trusted, as this mission proved, she was respected and she was loved. She couldn’t turn her back to that.

Not for a stranger, a heretic, a Xhorhassian. Not for anything, charmed or otherwise.

The Scourger steadied herself, banishing all improper thoughts from her mind, and preparing for the next step of Oban’s plans.