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One: Poison
Astrid Beck chooses poison as the best way to murder Trent Ikithon. It is the poetic choice - killing her Master the way she killed her mothers. But it is also the method of murder she is most familiar with outside of the arcane, and she does not want to leave anything to chance. She knows how to dose him so it looks like an accident, how much she can add so it is guaranteed to be fatal but the slight bitterness will not catch his notice. Where she could leave the poison that he would forget to inspect.
Thinking about poison is rote for her. Master Ikithon will not suspect much about these thoughts as he reads her mind. Another requirement.
And it works - she laces it in a spare wine glass, one that sits unused on a shelf for weeks until Master Ikithon has one of his private fits. Bren has apparently been spotted near Zadash, and an unlucky page delivers the news to him over his dinner. Astrid carefully does not think about what this might mean for Bren, or any emotions she might have about his escape. She tries to swallow the pride she feels at being permitted to remember the spilled wine and raised voices as her master wipes the page's memory of his outburst.
She's very good about not thinking about things, these days.
Instead, Astrid smoothly hands Ikithon the new glass - not thinking about which one she gives him. Master Ikithon refills his wine, drinks it, and is dead within thirty seconds.
Astrid stays to watch Master Ikithon breathe his last. She is thorough. Careful. Patient. Far more careful than Eadwulf or - or any of the other Volstruckers. It would not do for him to survive after she's played her hand. And he does not, but she has still underestimated his spite. Because she stays, his spell hits her nearly immediately, and the pain is instantaneous and overwhelming.
But Astrid has learned to have her own contingencies. Ikithon has encouraged her to spend hours alone with the crick relic, and she has learned more than she's reported. A safety line, she can unravel time until she hits a safe designated spot. Transmuted into the smallest of vials, hidden in her false tooth (replacing the standard volstrucker poison capsule). She unlodges the tooth, unleashes the spell.
It is three weeks ago, and she has the poisoned glass in her hand, ready to hide it in a cabinet. She allows herself to smash it against the wall in mimicry of her master's future actions, then Prestidigitates the shards out of existence.
Astrid steadies her breathing. She still feels the phantom pains from Trent's last spell making her muscles spasm. Despite her best efforts, she feels disappointed. All of that work for nothing.
Ah well. She will have to find another way.
Two: Drowning
It's over a year before she finds another promising lead, one that lasts more than a few brief minutes of fantasy. Once more, Bren is the catalyst.
He should be more careful about the company he keeps. One of his friends sends her a letter with a ridiculous story, and does not even bother to change her last name. While Bren is still wearing his veiler, his new friends are not. She tracks him to Nicodranas, then the Lucidian Ocean - which is horribly bereft of any sort of visual cues of where they might be. She's about to give up for the month when she catches a glimpse of a map and the glowing serpent's eye that was associated with a demigod from the Calamity. An hour of research later, she has the locations of all three hidden temples. A few more scouting missions on nearby islands - quick teleports asking about any strange occurences sailors might have seen off the coast - brings her to Bisaft. The weeks of scrying pay off: in less than a day, she knows where Bren will be.
Why in the world Bren would be interested in Uk'otoa, Astrid has no idea. She's not sure what to make of any of the company he appears to keep. She cannot get herself to think too long about them, anyhow.
Master Ikithon rewards her by allowing her to join him. Of course he insists on being the one to confront Bren. He's certain that Bren can be brought back, but does not trust anyone with the job. Her master goes through cycles about Bren - ranting about his star pupil one day, throwing scourgers on his trail the next, and then pretending that this was all his plan on the third. Bren has become personal to him in a way that nobody - not Bren, not Eadwulf, not her own family - would be permissable for Astrid.
He couldn't even see what a weakness this was. She has to work to keep the scorn from her mind. It wouldn't do to have Ikithon notice.
They commandeer a boat from Brokenbank, a full crew of hardend sailors who know better than to ask questions, even as they sail to a cursed spot. Some of them might have been compelled, some lied to - but usually her master is more subtle than that. She wouldn't be surprised if it was more hints about old crimes that could be reported to the Zhelezo and then a great deal of gold to soothe any tempers.
They find Bren's ship easily enough, but they aren't alone. Another ship - pirates, from the looks of them, are looking to attack. Master Ikithon hides the ship in the fog, then watches the Pirates by Arcane Eye.
It means he is distracted when someone on Bren's ship creates a wave to capsize the pirate's boat - as well as the one they're on.
It's nothing to move a rope so that it's out of reach, and untie another so the boxes are free. She had not known that this specific moment might happen but she'd prepared nonetheless. He's an old man, frail. The seas are rough, the winds merciless. There had been so many chances to swap a ring from a gnarled finger, to loosen the string on a component pouch. Water is difficult for wizards - with their components scattered, breath in short supply, and having to choose between the movements for a spell and the movements to swim, most find themselves powerless. The swell that takes Master Ikithon hits like a cannonball, and the waves scour the deck keeping him in their grip.
The crew listen to her when she tells them to leave him. He did nothing to ingratiate himself to the crew; he was too focused on Bren. She thinks she sees some sort of fish creature reaching up to grab him. She hopes that whoever it is does not kill him too quickly. She wants his death to be a horrible thing. This time, she decides not to stay to find out. She teleports back to Rexxentrum and the safety of her tower.
Minutes later, a squad of junior Volstruckers and Crownsguard try to take her in for the murder of Trent Ikithon. He had always been careful, and had apparently enspelled something to let them know of his demise, and who he'd been with at the time of his death.
She rolls her eyes and crunches down on the vial, moving to safety between one blink and the next.
Astrid finds herself looking at that letter from Bren's friend. She throws it in the fireplace and sighs.
Three: Poison (again)
Whatever that business with Uk'otoa was, Astrid may never know. She tries her best not to wonder about it, to let Bren go. It's the safest option. She lets herself write a response to the Pillow Trove, then puts it out of her mind.
Then he appears in her city right in the middle of a Kryn incursion, then the Throne Room.
And then he shows up at her doorstep.
They catch up. It's almost banal, the questions he asks. He's aged but hardly seems older than the teenager she once knew. She explains about her scars, including the one he gave her.
She hopes that he doesn't do anything too foolish. It hasn't escaped her notice that her best chances at killing Ikithon happen when Bren is close by.
She reports the visit - of course she does. It would be foolish not to. If she hadn't and her master found out, then she would be punished - physically, but also see her privileges restricted. He would lose what little trust he has in her, and she needs that trust to -
(don't think it)
To survive.
But Ikithon is in one of his more lenient moods with Bren, and he chooses to let her watch what they do.
They end the war, free a family of firbolgs, and then go to an island. What exactly they're doing on the island is not entirely clear - some sort of heretical ceremony or convention.
Maybe there is a world where his actions make sense. Maybe Bren was looking to collect as many banned gods as he could in hopes to overthrow the Dwendalian Empire. Maybe he's using his new friends to do … something.
Best not to consider him for too long.
After the Volcano, Bren takes off his veiler, and Trent decides it is time to approach him. A dinner.
Perfect, she thinks. She could kill him and he wouldn't even know who to blame. She does not even allow himself to think of which him it might be.
She poisons the blade of his knife. Eadwulf and that Firbolg have some sort of sniping contest, there is some attempt at conversation. She watches Ikithon chew, swallow. She waits. She does not think.
It apparently does not matter if Ikithon knows. Or perhaps she gave something away. But the bolt of necrotic energy finds its way to her and there are shouts (one deep-voiced 'whoa, hey' catching in her ear), and everyone around the table is rushing to her aid. It would be heartwarming if it weren't too late, she's already moved the false molar and is biting down as quick as she can … and it is quiet, in the before.
This time, she allows herself to scream in frustration.
Four: Frigid Woe
In Eiselcross, she and Eadwulf run across a curious figure in the ice. A man, or perhaps a very lifelike statue of a man, encased in ice, blue-veined and dappled moss-like blue blooms on his cheeks and fingers. He does not appear to be in pain - if anything, his face has a fierce look of determination.
Astrid sets a safety line at that moment, then approaches to inspect. Eadwulf stands back, poised to take action. Neither of them are idiots. It could easily be a trap. But it appears to be fine. They move on.
Two days later, she first notices the blue blooms on her skin, the slowing of their pace. Eadwulf creates a tiny hut and goes to the nearest outpost, leaving her hidden and alone. She feels like she's a faun, helpless and alone. She pushes those feelings aside, they are useless. Instead she catalogues the length of time it takes for her veins to turn blue, for the spots to form. She does her best to commit all of the symptoms to memory, all the while wondering when she should go back, when would be too late.
Eadwulf returns with a diagnosis. A day has passed, or maybe longer. Astrid bobs on the surface of consciousness, and the undertow seems to be getting stronger. She does her best to concentrate on Eadwulf's words. It's frigid woe. There's no known cure, only rumors of one in the Aeorian ruins. Once one is infected, no spell or potion can remove the blight. It's also highly contagious.
At first she thinks that Eadwulf telling her this as a kindness. She thinks that to be an uncharacteristic misstep - she now knows his plan is to kill her quickly, and not only did he risk further contamination by coming back, he risked her rebelling and fighting for her life. Not that she would- she's spent every half-dazed moment of consciousness reminding herself of her symptoms and what steps she needs to leave. But, as far as she knows, Eadwulf is unaware of her ability to spool back time to a safer point. She thinks he must be - otherwise he would have insisted she get herself to safety earlier. Or at least now. He'd always been a little soft on her.
But then Eadwulf takes off his fur-and-leather mittens and she notices the think lines of blue at his wrists, and she understands.
It's harder to remove the false molar and bite down on the vial than she'd like, but she manages.
One week earlier, she and Eadwulf stand in front of the infected corpse, and Astrid holds a hand up to stop their approach. Carefully, ever so carefully, she reaches in and uses Mage Hand to cut off a piece and put it in her haversack pocket. Eadwulf gives her a questioning look, but she shakes her head and they continue on. It's less that he trusts her as much as he doesn't think that acting now would be effective. Besides, he understands the need to not dwell.
She leaves the finger as one of the artifacts for Master Ikithon to inspect, along with a curious gem, an aeormaton's wheel, and a strange jar found in one of the marked sites. Then she sets another safety line, and waits.
It takes a few tries. A servant or volstrucker gets infected first, alerting the intended target. Or by chance, Master Ikithon goes a full week without getting infected. This is far more of a gamble than she's ever taken before - she's pulled back before when she's been caught, and abandoned plans for less. She's tested the length of the safety line before, in less dire circumstances, and she's found after a month the spell crumbles. A more ambitious caster would try to lengthen the time, but keeping track of the days is already difficult enough, and the chances of someone noticing and asking questions increases with every casting.
She's never tested how many times she could repeatedly use the same safety line. She always thought she wouldn't risk it. Perhaps it's the number of tries - or the fact that Bren is getting bolder, and she thinks that Bren may either come back into the fold or perish soon. Or perhaps she is finally running out of patience.
Finally, she spots a strange blue blemish on Master Ikithon's neck, and she quickly excuses herself. Her mind is blank until she gets to the safety of her quarters, when she allows herself to laugh and cry in relief. She then does her best to make herself scarce and waits.
Four days later, she gets a message from a worried page telling all agents to stay out of Rexxentrum. It's a shame that she can't witness the intended target's suffering. She doesn't know if he'll retain consciousness or even die once he stops moving. Perhaps it will be hunger or thirst that will take him. She also wished it was more painful, but it will have to do.
A brown-skinned elf from the Cobalt Soul finds her. She'd been called in to investigate the death of a Cerberus Assembly member, and the potential attacks on others. Master Ikithon is still alive, but barely - the Cobalt Soul found out about DeRogna's murder. Other members of the Dwendalian Goverment - including the King - have taken ill with a very unusual sickness called the frigid woe, and it's starting to spread throughout the city - from servants to taverns to families.
(Of course the Cobalt Soul knows about the frigid woe, Astrid thinks. Fucking librarians.)
The elf informs Astrid that the frigid woe is mostly found within Eiselcross - which means it could have only come from a few sources. Ikithon mentioned her name, told the Cobalt Soul how to find her. Said something about how she'd gotten strange, vindictive recently. Said he was concerned. Said something about how her research partner had gotten sick the day before.
It's day 29. She'd been so close to what she wanted. She could kill this elf, she's pretty sure. She may be even able to kill any surviving volstruckers who come looking for her for revenge. But she hadn't counted on Ikithon not isolating himself, for the spread to reach throughout Rexxentrum. She should have known - why would he choose to spare anyone else?
Part of her still believed that he'd been a patriot.
She's always told herself that she would not mind a few more deaths on her conscience, not if she could get rid of her Master. But the spread of frigid woe throughout the empire would never let her know peace.
She had been so close.
One broken vial later, Astrid is back in Master Ikithon's tower, a wet cloth over her nose and mouth as she carefully does not touch the diseased finger. She quickly teleports to Kravaraad- or somewhere like Kravaraad - there's a volcano, that's all she cares about now. She throws the finger into the glowing depths and teleports to her tower, flinging the now-steaming mask across the room. She tells herself that the stinging in her eyes is becasue of the smoke and ash and that flash of heat.
Five: Stabbed
Once Astrid gives herself a little distance, she can admit that she's gotten too emotional. Too sloppy. She should have admitted defeat with the frigid woe long before.
But the truth is that she's tried dozens of times, and she cannot find a way to successfully kill her Master and dodge the consequences. The indirect means are too imprecise, the direct means are too obvious. She's getting frustrated. If she continues down this road she's going to get caught, and not when she can undo it. Maybe it's time to stop.
Or maybe it is time to admit that she may be better off using a decoy.
She intercepts Bren in a dance hall in Rexxentrum, and encourages him to take what he needs from Vergesson. She encourages him to be stealthy and cautious.
Bren takes what he needs from Vergesson. He is not stealthy. He is not cautious.
She and Eadwulf give a warning to Bren's friend in the Lavish Chateau, and then she holds her spell in that wizard's tower. It does not escape her Master's notice, and she is punished. It is all she can do to assume her gamble might be worth it.
And then Bren disappears again, back to the frigid north. All of his friends have Veilers on. There is no scrying to be done. They will have to wait.
Five days later, Bren appears again in the Greying Wildlands. Astrid finds out when Master Ikithon invades her mind in the middle of a bath. She has five minutes to get ready to teleport. They burn the cottage down. They fight Bren, his friends, and a family of Firbolgs. The drow traitor is there, for some reason.
And somehow, in the midst of this, Bren's friends win. Astrid and Eadwulf survive, and Trent is bound and collared, unable to speak or do any magic.
And Astrid sees her chance. Bren and his Cobalt Soul friend tells her not to, but she plunges her dagger down, again and again. One of them tries to stop her, but it's nothing to counterspell.
She has stabbed enough people to tell when the heart stops beating by the blood that wells up. She waits, and nothing, and nobody attacks her.
Astrid feels everything and nothing, synpases firing in a strange daze. She's done it. He cannot hurt her anymore. He is dead, and he will rot, and nobody will mourn him. She is either laughing or crying or both and she does not care. Her mind is her own and nobody else's. There are conversations going on around her, low and high voices, and she cannot imagine how they could matter to her.
A hand touches her shoulder, bringing her up to the present.
"You better go," Bren says softly. "I would not step foot back into the Empire if I were you."
"There's a fun island in the south if you need a place to go!" the far too energetic tiefling says.
She looks to Eadwulf, who shrugs. Any place that is not the Empire is like any other, for her. They take a look at it on a map, are handed a dick statue and find their way to Rumblecusp.
Two weeks later she feels that last safety line crumble, and sighs. It is done. She orders another drink at the Beaurebar and watches the waves.
Time passes, and the world moves on. Bren and his Cobalt Soul friend try to prove the existence of the Volstrucker program and Trent's corruption, but fail. The Cerberus Assembly's retaliation is swift, and they're held responsible for the murders of DeRogna and Ikithon. Eadwulf takes over the Beaurebar, but does not change its name.
Astrid cultivates plants and trees on a stretch of land too wild to be called a garden. Her neighbors, such as they are, allow her to keep to herself. Many have their own pasts that they are trying to forget. She corresponds with other wizards outside of the Dwendalian Empire - an elf in Nicodranas, an older human woman in Tal'dorei, a tiefling that flits between planes. They do not trust her, and she cannot blame them. But it sticks in her craw to always be the one asking questions, sharing, showing her hand. She revels in having nothing to hide, but she'd still like some respect. Yes, she might have been able to divine what they were doing from their questions, but only so she'd have something to do.
It is difficult to think of how long it has been since she's seen her homeland, so she does not think on it. She has no regrets. Her mind is her own.
Essek turns out from time to time, but more often than not, he's looking for echoes of Bren in her existence, and she will not help him.
Seven years later the red solstice changes life on Exandria. Da'leth's doing, of course. She had been close enough to the inner circle to realize he had been planning something, though she'd never cared enough to investigate what it might be. Da'leth had been planning whatever it was for hundreds of years. It had seemed like it was possible he'd be moving pieces around long after she was gone. One day she realizes that must have been what those other wizards had been worried about for the last few years. If only some of the wizards trusted her enough, she might have been useful.
Eadwulf tells her one day that he has to support his goddess, and she bids him farewell. He does not come back. She hears the broadcast about the Gods in Aeor, and hates the invasion of her mind too much to care about the message. She hears from Essek about what happened to the Cerberus Assembly and worries that they might target her - only to realize that she's safe. Ludinus may know about her existence, but he has no reason to believe that she would do anything against him.
And in truth, not much changes on her island. Stories eventually filter in about how Ludinus anchored the moon on the other side of Exandria, how there was an invasion of strange creatures that was defeated by the Exandrian forces, but not before Ludinus unleashed an ancient creature to destroy the gods, and the gods fought back. Arcane magic is strange for a little while, but stabilizes. If Teleportation and Sending doesn't work for a while - well, where is she going to go? Who is she going to talk to?
The tales from sailors of Desirat destroying Zadash, of Pelor's divine wrath in Rexxentrum, of the dead coming back to life in Labenda, of the horrors and battle-scars from the last war being revisited on her long-estranged home - they do not seem real on this island. She cannot consider them for long.
Essek comes to visit more and more often, and Astrid lets him. It's harder to resent him looking for someone else in her these days. He's the only one left who has any idea of who she used to be. He's taken Da'leth's plans coming to fruition much harder than her - not surprising, as he worked directly with him. She belatedly realizes that he could have used her old wizarding contacts, before.
One night, when they are deeply soused (she'll say this for Essek, he's a good drinking partner), she admits that to him, and they get to talking about regrets. They are many and varied, some ridiculous and some heartbreaking. And she ends up telling him about the safety line.
(She's surprised that Essek had never figured it out, though she supposes that she had more unfettered access to the beacon than he ever had. She's smart enough to keep this to herself.)
And then Essek asks her, "If you could go back to Rexxentrum, change it all, would you?"
"It's not worth thinking about - the safety line only lasted a month." The answer is rote, immediate. Dreaming of the impossible is a habit that died with her parents.
Essek is quiet while he inspects his wine in the glass, and Astrid thinks that maybe that would be the end to his questioning. And then he admits, "Caleb and I discovered something in Aeor. Experiments for turning back time."
Astrid is almost irritated by the fact she now has to consider the question, even if it's bundled in a wizarding challenge. Still, it's too good an opportunity for her to not be suspicious. "You have your own regrets. Why did you never use it?"
"It was for him. He wanted to bring back his mother and father." Of course Bren did, the sentimental idiot.
She finds herself considering it. "I'm hardly more capable of helping if I'm on the run."
"Caleb only asked you to flee because you killed Trent. He was planning on asking for your help - he and Beauregard - on proving the volstrucker program. If you had not - " He stops himself before the anger could take over, a long held grudge against her.
She hadn't known that Essek held her partially responsible for Bren's death, but nor does she care. "I have many regrets, but never that," she snaps. "Do not mistake me, killing Ikithon was the best day of my life. Every day I think about his face as life left his body and I smile. He was a horrid man."
"I am glad that he no longer has power over you, but," Essek stops, considering his words carefully. He seems much less drunk than he had a few moments before. Astrid wishes she could say the same. "Rexxentrum still burns. It's been years and the fires have never gone out. Would you have let that happen, if you were there?"
Here is a secret she has held deep down in her heart: she loves her homeland. She loves the fields of Blumenthal, the spires of Rexxentrum, the frozen lakes of Odessloe and the grape-filled hills in Kamordah. It is her first and truest love, and she cannot get herself to regret anything she did in service to the Empire, only what was done to her.
And now it is gone.
How many years has it been since she spoke Zemnian? Long before Eadwulf left. Does she even remember what the markets were like, the sounds of the monorail above her as she walks the streets of Zadash, the smells and taste of spices in Druvenlode.
She's been free for ten years. She gnawed off her own leg to get out of the trap, but she is able to think what she likes, do what she likes, breathe without fear. It had never been enough to just know what it was like to kill him - if that had been the case, she would have stopped after the initial poisoning. He had to be dead for her to be free. It was also not enough for her to rid this world of the man, else she would accepted her death with grace.
But Rexxentrum burns in her absence.
"Will you do it? I will help you," Essek says, no love or inflection in his voice.
What she wants is an impossible thing. She couldn't help but dream, after all.
Astrid swallows and nods.
One month later, ten years earlier.
Astrid finds herself in a field of flowers with her dagger pointed at the old man's chest. She screams. She releases him.
Two weeks later, she buys apples at a stall in the Tangles and bites down, listening to the sounds of people chattering as she walks by.