Rebellion - 3 (Patreon)

In the great hall of the manor, cleared of any pretence of being used for a meal, Darius spread out a map of Gilneas upon his table. Aides moved as directed to place down tokens marking the support of the various holdings; grey stones for the royalists and a verdant green for the rebels; Mistmantle colours.

"Outside of a few areas of resistance, largely in those I received from Godfrey so recently and at the gate itself, the Northgate is ours." Darius said plainly, and indeed the forests were smothered in green stones. The Ember Hills came next, though not quite so thoroughly. "The eastern passes also, for what good it might do us." Letting out a sigh Darius rubbed at his chin; beyond those regions close to us, with the territory in the direction of the capital trending towards grey, there was far too little information.

Lord Candren in the Headlands was green, a few spots down by the Blackwald mixed, a large fraction of Duskmist Plains firmly grey, but so much of the map was, as of yet, left blank.

I met Lorna's eyes, the solution seemed obvious to me; and as she nodded, to her as well. "My lord?"

Darius glanced between us, then snorted. "Yes. Lorna, take Donovan sneak along the cliff side coast, avoiding Tempest's Reach and the Waldens–" he placed down a grey token for them, "–they will side with the king. Around the Blackwald, and to the Hailmarsh. Many of the lords there had pledged their support, but with the reveal of the princess their declarations are... suspect. From there, go to the Headlands; Lord Candren is with us but his vassals may yet be unaware. Liaise with his wife."

"Of course, father." She said dutifully.

"And take Vivianne, you may need the protection." He added before turning to me. "Gwyneth, you are able to... move about discreetly if you desire. I wish for you to make use of your skills and ascertain the disposition of the two largest unknowns in this conflict."

Two tokens, one purple and one amber, were placed at the wall.

"Celestine will preach neutrality." I said confidently, but I was nodding my agreement. "I will confirm that with her, Lord Crowley, as I speak to Archmage Arugal. I hope to find what happened to my apprentice as well."

"In that, I wish you luck." He smiled slightly. "I do not expect you to bring the mages to our side–"

Metal clanked as Lord Bowford stepped up to the table. "But they would all but guarantee our victory, with the might of Dalaran at our side–"

"Yes, the might of Dalaran." Dame Hilda spoke slowly, her eyes lidded as she stared at the lord. "Not the might of Gilneas, nor even of the Gilnean mages, but Dalaran. How else to swiftly declare that our liege is in bed with foreign powers than to make it true."

"Hilda is correct." Darius said solemnly. "We cannot accept the aid of Dalaran at this time; individual mages, but the whole? No. It is better that they remain neutral for our purposes."

I hummed, looking down at the purple token on the table. Magic could turn the tide, would turn the tide if I had anything to say about it, but that was the reason I hadn't asked Caedan to stay or come back. We couldn't rely on outsiders for our rebellion, not and maintain any legitimacy. "Also of consideration is that we want the mages at the wall because, well, the Scourge are still out there."

Dame Hilda hissed and made a sign of warding, then nodded her agreement.

"That's certainly a good reason to leave them there." Lorna muttered, laying out a few green tokens along the wall with grey ones. "We cannot leave ourselves unprotected. No matter our war with the king we cannot compromise our defences, be they against the Scourge or the worgen." She looked her father in the eye. "To do otherwise would go against everything we stand for."

Though Bowford barked out his disapproval, claiming we needed those forces for ourselves, what mattered was Darius' response.

And as he looked back at his daughter, all I could see in his lonely eye was pride.

-oOoOo-

Soon after I arrived at the wall, finding the place awash with nervous tension, I was led by one of the many ravens that had come to roost here and receive offerings from the soldiers to Celestine. Without them it would've taken a lot longer to find her – the familiar pulse of her magic was masked by the bramble thicket in which she was spending the evening hours.

It had overtaken one of the graveyards, expanding wider and wider as so many more brave men and women were added to its embrace, and tended to by caretakers few would expect.

As I flew down through thorns that drowned out the sun the glowing amber orbs which formed the eyes of Tal’Doren’s children, the treants Lord Renard had brought, followed me and tracked my passage.  One groaned softly and directed me deeper – where I had felt Celestine.

Certain no one else was around, I shifted back and bowed. "Thank you for your care, wardens of the Blackwald."

Seeing the treants at work, shaping brambles and thorns to protect the graves of the departed, to entangle their bodies and carve names into stone was fascinating. That they remained at all was fascinating. But, most of all, it was worthy of respect; the words were likely wrong, but, at the same time they needed to be said.

Whether or not they were understood though, I couldn't tell. The treant merely groaned once more and returned to entering another name upon the grave I stood beside.

And beneath my feet, one more soul was laid to rest. One amongst thousands.

My mood struck low by feeling once more just how many people had died in defence of my homeland, I left the treant to its task and moved on to find Celestine.

"Gwyneth." Celestine spoke, noticing me before I spotted her. "I wondered when you would seek me out. Come, sit."

Doing as she bid, I found her kneeling before a stone stele embraced by an already sprawling young yew.. Five names were engraved upon the stele; Johnathon, Mathis, Richard, and two others I didn't recognise. Without hesitation I joined her, kneeling in silence before the memorial to our kin.

This wasn't where Richard had been buried, but the monument to all of them, made in the style of our ancestors, was... fitting.

The dim lighting from the thorns choking out the sun, the eerie air, the amber orbs in the darkness, and the rustling of the leaves in the wind somehow all came together to make something peaceful. Sombre, but beautiful too.

"Was it necessary?" She asked, breaking the tranquil silence of the thicket. "To bring the princess here, to bring us to war so soon after the last one ends. Before it has truly ended."

Her eyes are sharp as they turn to me, but though her words lend themselves to it, they are not accusations.

"I understand that there are more important matters in the world. That we are but small players. To know that we only survived because our Lord offered his personal aid is humbling." She continued, not waiting for an answer. "But– but... it should not have come to this."

"It shouldn't." I agreed quietly. “But it was always going to.”

Celestine sighed deeply as she turned back to the stele. "I should have listened to you about the children. Emma... I almost lost my Emmaline. A gargoyle snatched her from my side, and if Bishop Frey had not burned it from the sky..."

I rested a hand on her shoulder. She hadn't told me this, Emma hadn't told me, just that we'd lost people at their ritual site. My cousin's eyes had been so wide and traumatised I hadn't told them how Detheroc had lured me away either.

We were all keeping some of the horrors we had seen locked away, for better or for worse. Almost surely for worse.

"Thomas... Thomas was the one to lure me away." I said mumbled into her shirt. "He was possessed, controlled, and I didn't notice. He said... he said Emma was acting up. I... I had to leave him behind. I couldn't save him."

She put her arm around me. "He swore to me he would keep you safe." She squeezed me tight. "If... if that cost him his... his..."

Celestine, my aunt's, voice faded away into broken sobs as she cried into my shoulder. My own tears soon joined her; we had lost people we loved, that we adored, that we had a duty towards.

But we were still here. There were others that needed us, even if we also needed to cry. I told her about Richard, how the very magic I'd taught him had been used against him. How he would compete with Trix, always showing her up with his enchanting while falling behind on his healing.

How he was always happy with his progress while Trix would get mad any time he got ahead. His joy at being selected by Heather, how he badgered the other kids into calling her Teacher Rosethorn because it was respectful.

I learned more about Johnathon, the reclusive shepherd whose son and daughter had been orphaned. Of sharp witted and tongued Mathis, who could have been the next speaker if Old Grims hadn't lived so long. She had been a raven as well, but it hadn't saved her.

It was well and truly dark by the time we finished, our grief expended, and I was ready to ask what I needed to.

"What are you going to do about the war?" I said, my voice still creaking.

"We discussed it... has it truly only been a year?" She answered, her eyes cast skyward towards the thorns. "Bishop Frey agreed, and will work with me. A golden cross, a sign of healing, under which we will tend to both sides. The Order of Amber shall remain neutral..." She glanced down at me. "Though some will choose a side, or have already done so."

"I can't back out now." I cracked a much too fake smile, trying to show amusement. "It's a good thing you are, I already told my students that's what you're doing. I wouldn't want to be a liar."

She barked out a cackle of a laugh and pressed a smile of her own onto her face. "Good." Her smile faded swiftly, for all it had been good to see. "Good luck, Gwen. Take care of yourself and..." She let out another grim sigh. "Trix was taken by the king's men, complicit as your accomplice in your deeds. I couldn't stop them. Please, don't make me have to add another name to this place."

Looking back at the stone, my stomach tying itself into a knot, I swallowed thickly. "I'll try."

Trix... please be okay. Mirmiron, please let the king be smart enough to know killing her would only make me angry, Tyr, let him be a good enough person to not blame a child for my actions.

Hodir... grant me the perseverance to not chase after her into a trap that would get us both killed.

-oOoOo-

Ravens flocked around me as I left Celestine in the bramble yard, creating a chorus of croaking cries and scattering to the winds. Some carrying messages, others seeking shelter for the night, a few flying simply to lend their wings to my secrecy, and one to guide me to where the archmage had last been seen.

Keeping busy, following Darius' orders, was better than letting myself dwell on Trix's fate. I would and could drive myself mad if I allowed myself to do that; so, I wouldn't.

Following the raven I flew into the lower reaches of one of the gate towers, a barred slot cut into the ground to allow light into the cellars and dungeons. The raven croaked, preening her wing, and I bobbed my head in thanks. He would be deeper in, but I could hear his voice mixed with others in the area that had been set aside to hold the transformed worgen.

Humane quarters they were not, but when the thing you had to cage could rend stone with their claws sturdy bars and firm foundations were a necessity. The dungeons were the only place for them.

And their snarling, the bitter rage they held, permeated the air of this place now.

Shifting into a fox, I squeezed my way through the bars and dropped to the floor silently. My meagre mimicry of Lord Renard's illusions wrapped around me to hide me from the perception of those who might be on watch – I needed the archmage alone to be safe.

Something that only became more true as I approached and could discern the owner of one of the voices.

"If you weren't aware, mage, there is a rebellion brewing. We cannot spare the effort for those already–"

"Rebellion or not, Lord Godfrey, these are your men." Krennan interrupted calmly, though there was firm defiance underlying his words. "Do you not have a duty to see to their care?"

Godfrey scoffed loudly, echoing in the darkness of the dungeon and eliciting a series of growls. "My men died to the worgen. The beasts in these cages are mongrels waiting to be put down, little better than the Scourge who raised our dead as weapons against us."

"Your comparison is based on a misunderstanding, Lord Godfrey." Archmage Arugal corrected him patiently, almost as if he was telling a child that, no, the sky wasn't purple. "One cannot bring the long dead back to life without great cost, but given time all curses can be broken. It is merely a question of discovering the means to do so."

"And in that time, how many more shall they claim? Each beast you might save will kill a dozen others before you are done!" Godfrey sneered, and as I rounded the corner I noted that his hand rested on the same pistol from before on his belt. “That blood would be on your hands, mage.”

Inclining his head, Archmage Arugal didn’t disagree with the accusation. A flash of guilt in his eyes plain as day – only to disappear as his eyes crossed the doorway where I waited.

But though I saw that, my attention was caught by the other in the room. So far silent, King Genn sodding Greymane stood with his back turned to me. Gazing into the eyes of a caged worgen which let out a constant low level growl, but remained firmly within the bars of its cage.

The arcane magic wrapped around the bars, warding and protecting and punishing with a harsh buzz that did little to settle the baring of my teeth likely had something to do with that.

Not that the five guards, guns and spears at the ready and directed at any of the creatures within reach of the king, had nothing to do with it either.

"Had Crowley's treason been quashed before it began, had he not fallen so low as to undermine our very homeland, the decision would have been simple." He said, somehow raising my hackles further. My tail stood stiff behind me, my fur on edge, and a low whine threatened to escape my muzzle. He had them executed, murdered, hunted. The liar. "Tell me of your progress, Krennan. Speak truly and honestly."

"Your Majesty, we are still in preliminary–"

"Then estimate!" Godfrey hissed angrily, drawing the ire of a worgen that threw themselves at the bars of their cell. Arcane lightning arced between the bars, eliciting ever sharper howling, but even as they retreated Godfrey levelled his pistol at them. "Have you no answer I shall see to their disposal myself. It would be a mercy to put these cursed beasts out of their misery."

"How much, Krennan, Archmage?" Genn said, uncaring of Godfrey's outburst. "The resources you shall require, the time needed. I must know before I depart."

Creeping closer, a part of me wondered if I could end the Northgate Rebellion here and now. The thought felt... slippery, killing the king.

I wasn’t an assassin, I had killed – gnolls, cultists, animals, undead – but never in cold blood. Never set out calmly with the thought of killing someone before they even knew I was there. I could... in theory I could do it. Kill him before anyone could react. A single spell with enough power, cast quickly, could end his life in a moment.

But would I survive?

The mettle of the Royal Guard wasn’t to be underestimated; they weren’t bandits, skeletal fodder, standard soldiers that I could best with a single spell. Their armour wasn’t mundane metal, it was forged by experts who poured their heart into their craft. Their weapons too, spears, swords, guns, were all made with care and little expense spared – and then there was Godfrey, who was no slouch either.

Even in the unlikely world where Arugal simply allowed it to happen, my life would be at risk.

Pressing myself into the ground, tight into a corner where I could watch and listen I forced myself to wait. The risk was too great and the pay off… too questionable.

Assassinating the king wouldn’t bring a certain end to the civil war. It may even make it worse, inciting those that might otherwise not heed Genn’s words into a fury against the dishonourable act. What’s more it would, without question, see the Order of Amber strangled in the crib. My fellow witches ostracised anew for my crime.

And… and I didn’t want to die. There was so much of Azeroth I hadn’t seen, so many things I still needed to do.

In the end, that was the real reason. I was scared, afraid of the danger; and, no matter how much I might hate the king, no matter the blame he holds for what would happen to Gilneas, trading my life for his wasn’t worth it.

Especially not when I considered all the coming dangers that I hadn’t had time to prepare us for.

In the end, even if it would guarantee an end to the war in our favour, I had to weigh the value of my life against his. The things I knew, the threats that were coming, the ones I hadn’t had time to help people to prepare for. No matter how much I blamed him, how much I hated him, my life was worth more – trading my life for his wasn’t worth it.

Krennan ran a hand through his hair, staring at their captives and fiddling with vials and parchment while I came to my conclusion. Buying himself time to think. "Months, assuming we have no further setbacks. The loss of Gwyneth Arevin to treason is a dire one."

"But with another witch, a loss that can be mitigated." Archmage Arugal added. "You have not outlawed their order, I believe?"

Genn grunted. "I have not."

"Good, my aide has a witch in mind to assist us in Arevin's place. As for time... assuming no interruptions to our task, we shall expect to have the first tests begin with the spring equinox." Archmage Arugal continued confidently. "A cure will take longer, to be certain. But something to reduce the influence of the curse is possible by that time, and by summer's end a salve to return the minds of those afflicted may be possible."

"In a best case scenario." Godfrey mocked. "Things rarely go so well in alchemy, do they, Aranas?"

Looking up from his fiddling, the hooded man scowled. "I have worked miracles before, Lord Godfrey. I shall do so again for the sake of our people."

Nodding firmly, Genn turned to the chemist. "Very well. You may continue your research and recruit your witch, but keep no more subjects than those in these cells. We cannot afford the costs of restraining them all."

"Not while we are at war." Godfrey sniffed disdainfully. "Again."

Archmage Arugal looked directly at me for a moment, eyes bright with curiosity, then turned to Godfrey. "Though I had my part in releasing the worgen, I urged caution in their use. These men are yours, Godfrey, and cursed due to your reckless desire for revenge."

The hand holding his gun twitched, but beyond a sneer Godfrey did nothing. "I believe we are done here, Genn?"

"Indeed. Let us leave this dark place." Genn said solemnly, leading the way out the door and past me. For a moment he lingered in the corridor. "Your desire to undo your mistake does you credit, Arugal. I wish you luck with it."

"My thanks, your majesty." Archmage Arugal said, somehow without a hint of derision or condescension.

Neither he nor Krennan spoke until the guards, king, and lord were well away. The only sound was of shuffling papers and the low growls of the worgen in their cells.

Archmage Arugal glanced at me again, but soon turned his attention to the worgen that was sniffing the air. "I think that went quite well. Surprisingly so."

"Despite what the traitor may have told you, Genn is a good man." Krennan shook his head and collected the papers into a pile. "And a good king. Had the worgen not begun to do as she said, I would think it all slander... Light, this is a tragedy in the making. Why would Crowley do this? Does he have no honour?"

"I would imagine he believes his actions are honorable. Most men believe their actions to be such." The archmage shrugged and waved a hand towards where Genn had gone. "The king has done much to draw the ire of his lords, and indeed of me with his words."

Krennan sighed. "I suppose, but he must maintain... no, we shall not argue again. Good night, Archmage."

"Aranas." Archmage Aurgal replied with a nod.

As Krennan took his leave, the archmage remained, standing and staring at the worgen with his hands clasped behind his back. There was a weight on his shoulders.

"Fox." A worgen growled.

"I am aware, private." He said. "I am able to recognise an illusion when cast by an amateur, Fox. Your attempts to hide are fruitless."

Chirping, I dropped my disguise, and, a moment later, shifted back into a human. "Were they entirely fruitless?"

He whirled about, his eyes wide with surprise for a brief instant. Then he started to chuckle. "Ah! Clever, a layered disguise, a polymorphic spell under an illusion... a secret of your order? Interesting."

I waggled my hand noncommittally. "Something like that. Archmage Arugal, I have been sent by Darius Crowley to ask for your position on the Northgate Rebellion. Not to ask for your aid, but to determine your alignment in the war." Technically, I could've done that just by spying.

But he'd figured me out enough that doing that wasn't going to work terribly well. Though, in hindsight, writing a letter and carrying it in as a raven would've been a good option...

Something to remember for the future, it was too late now.

"I assume that the king is mistaken regarding Princess Calia?" He asked, answering my query with a question of his own.

At least it was easy enough to answer. "He is; Lorna, Vivianne, Caedan Kindfeather of the Wildhammer, and I went to Southshore to ensure her safety. She... desired to return to Gilneas, to obtain Genn's aid for her people." I grimaced. "We can all see how that turned out."

"Antonidas will be pleased to hear she lives." He closed his eyes and smiled softly.

"Fox!" The worgen growled again, trying to reach out through the bars of their cage despite the lightning discouraging them. "Fox! Take fox!"

"But we should resolve this quickly." He continued, shooting a disappointed glance at the worgen. "Your presence has them agitated, it seems. Though I have my sympathies for the... Northgate Rebellion, was it? I cannot commit to your aid, to do so would jeopardise the position of those in my care within the kingdom."

"We didn't expect you to. With the king's justification for our arrest, foreign aid would be–"

"A difficult proposition, yes." He snapped his fingers and the magical lights in the dungeon extinguished one by one. Papers fluttered towards him, rolling up into scrolls and tucking themselves into his belt as he started moving to the door. "Neutrality is, however, something I can promise. The king sought my aid, but in our discussion I have made clear I consider my mistake with the worgen the highest priority of myself and my mages at present."

I followed after him, a faint smile of my own forming. "That's... as good as we could hope for. The wall does need guarding too, and as I told Darius, you're well positioned for that."

"Indeed." He laughed, he had a laugh that was somewhat creepy – fitting for a dungeon, but not for someone I was coming to trust. "Another reason for us to remain. Some, of course, will choose a side. I am merely an archmage, not a king, and even they cannot command the absolute loyalty of their people. As you yourself prove."

We walked in silence for a few moments, my ears straining for any sounds of others that would mean I needed to hide. After Celestine, Trix, this was almost entirely good news.

The worgen were being handled, they were making progress, and the archmage wasn't going to be against us.

"Frazzle, for one." I said at last.

He nodded. Then, abruptly, came to a stop. "I must ask, do you wish to avoid this war?" He met my eyes, his own filled with concern. "It is firmly within the realm of possibility to craft a disguise, an illusion, to allow you to remain here. An aid working on the curse at my side... or, the Council of Six in Stormwind would be glad to receive you. You need not take part."

I had already told Celestine my feelings on this so recently. "I can't back out now." I told him, though once again I had difficulty smiling about my decision. "Thank you for the offer and... give the Archmages my regards. I'll speak to them when the war is won."

There was clear disappointment in my decision in his gaze, a faint accusation that I was choosing something less important. But he nodded.

"Farewell, Arevin. Survive this war even if you do not win it."

Shifting into a fox again I chirped up at him affirmatively. I hardly intended to die. My life was more important than Genn's; to me, and maybe even to Azeroth itself.

-oOoOo-

Departing from the gate, I took a detour. It wasn't anything for Darius, for the rebellion, or anything so grand. No, this was entirely for me. Though her shutters were closed it was easy enough to coax them open and slip inside.

Mama was still awake, sewing away by candlelight, but she stopped what she was doing the moment she saw me.

And as I shifted, turning into a teary eyed girl sitting on her windowsill she gasped. "Gwen! Oh, oh, you can– you're blessed." Her arms wrapped around  me and held me tightly.

"Hey, Mama... I..." I choked, returning the embrace. "I'd like to spend the night. If that's okay."

"Of course it is! Of course it is. I don't care what the king's criers say, you're not a traitor." Her hands ran through my hair and relaxed into her. "Not to me. Never."

That night, I told her more than I meant to. But not for a moment did she disbelieve me – even when I told stories of my old life. Of the other woman I had as a mother, my Mum, who I remembered and loved even now. In the end, I think I needed it.