Even though it was the answer she expected, hearing the words out loud still made her heart sink. Her eyes darkened as she truly let the weight of it settle in. Neverfall was right, of course. The fact that they had held the Imperium away for three years had been a feat in itself. The Imperium had only gotten stronger while Ecith and Ailos were still picking up their broken pieces.
The only logical course of action that Veriel could think of right now was to strike first. To deal a massive blow to the Imperium instead of giving them the time to prepare and choose where to strike. It didn’t even have to be something to defeat completely. Just hard enough to cripple them for a few years, to buy some time until the dawnmartyrs could get back up on their feet again. To at least have a chance of succeeding.
It was better than sitting around like a duck waiting to be shot. Nevertheless, Veriel didn’t say her thoughts out loud. It sounded too much like war talk. Besides, the elven woman didn’t dare to ask so much of her comrades. Their numbers were meager, most of their strongest warriors were wiped out. All they had left were those who were still scarred by the war and fledgling dawnmartyrs who never experienced it.
A dark idea started blooming inside the dawnmartyr’s mind and her eyes glowed brighter. When Veriel looked up again, the knight-marshal would notice that there was a shift in her. The resignation had been washed away by an unreadable determination. It was hard to tell exactly what she had in mind. “Then we find a way. We won’t be caught unaware ever again.”
Her chest felt lighter and the siltori could breathe a little easier. She brought the mug to her lips and finished the rest of the drink, the flavors dancing past her tongue to her throat with ease.
Veriel smiled and shook her head. “I’m not exactly someone who makes acquaintances with princes, so unfortunately no. The first time Talon came to me was when he asked me to retrieve the sword.” She had heard of the name Talon many times before ever meeting him. It was impossible not to for anyone who lived inside Kalzasi. The stories people tell at bars and markets about their bright prince. All good things, of course. “I can’t speak for him, but during my early years - maybe even decades - of being bonded to Ryo, I have a hard time even thinking of anyone but him. I believe it was even worse for him as an avialae. So, I can understand him having one mate.”
A sad smile twitched at the edge of her lips as she recalled those days. They had been together for at least two years before the core bond suddenly snapped into place. Veriel had always seen Ryo as the coolheaded one, while she was the more easily jealous. Soon, she found out that he was a lot more territorial than she imagined - he was just really good at hiding it and being respectful. Needless to say, they were practically glued at the hips for quite a while.
Ryo would have liked seeing the new Arcas. He probably would have been proud that the god had been born as one of his people. They might have gotten along swimmingly. Perhaps one day, when they meet again in the afterlife, she could tell him all about it.
During their first encounter, Talon had given Veriel hope. The dawnmartyr had been left unsure and aimless in enemy territory. Talon had appeared, unannounced, and asked her to retrieve Novuril. The sword that could have freed him or defeated him. He did not want them to be defenseless while he was still under the control of Imperium and he had gained her respect that day.
“I believe he means to do good. He wants what is best for us. He reminds me a little bit of Andrus, the previous incarnation of Arcas, and that man had led us to victory against the Graveplague.” Veriel was probably one of the few people still alive who had personally known two iterations of Arcas. They were certainly not quite the same. Even Talon had laid it out to her when they first met. “I’d like to put my faith in him, in something. Maybe we don’t have to fight alone. I don’t know how Talon will lead us or what he has planned, but we all want the same thing. That should count as something, right?”
“You remember Ourha? Flew you out of Ailos with a baby strapped to her chest? That baby is all grown up now, and dropping old, deep magic in the Commonwealth's Senate. You should look her up when you make it back.”
The siltori raised an eyebrow. How could she possibly not remember? It was easily one of the most puzzling sights she had ever witnessed in her life. “I remember. Norani is her name. I suppose being brought along into a deadly mission as a baby should be enough sign that fate would not assign her an ordinary life.”
Veriel laughed, letting Neverfall drag her to an empty floor. To those watching, it was a rare glimpse of the woman Veriel had been before the world fell around her. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the music, perhaps it was the company.
The dawnmartyr knew what she needed to do now. It was good to know that there were people who still felt the same anger she did, who did not move on the way the rest of the world did. To everyone but Ecith, Ailos was nothing but a lone island. They would close their eyes and readily ignore the atrocities the Imperium had wrought - perhaps it was out of fear, maybe ignorance. But things had to change.
As long as she lived, Veriel would remind them of the destruction that had been made and the people they had lost. She would never forgive. She would never forget.
