darkSpyro

Turor went back to taking a sip of his water, as he listened attentively. The two still seemed to be wary of him, though it was understandable - he was the more powerful one here, after all. "Oh... that was you? Good job on finally getting him," Turor congratulated. "He certainly eluded us for awhile. Some people think the Ardent Guardians should have some naval specialization, but Godfather Sere doesn't like the idea because it's a lot harder to keep people alive when something breaks their ship than it is when something breaks the ground near them."
Turor followed with a shrug. "If you want to stay here, that's not my business," he said indifferently. "After I catch this thing, no one will have any reason to come here. I guess it's your only real option, where you are, but it feels a bit... sad to me, y'know? I'm no citizen myself, which you can probably guess, but... I always thought of generals as some of the most venerated people in the country. People who either retire in glory, or die in the greatest service to it. Like, if they had to command a retreat, they would be there issuing commands until the very end if that's what it took - even if it meant they were the last to escape, and gave their lives in the process," he said, drinking some more water.
Perhaps it was the alcohol that helped Turor loosen up - but he seemed to be in the mood to contemplate. "That type of deal. But that's a bit naive, isn't it? Instead of retiring with honor, or dying a glorious death by doing whatever it takes to protect your people from whatever horrible thing the enemy has planned from them, even if it costs you your freedom or life? You'll be stuck here, holed up where no one will ever remember what you've done, because the alternative is going back and enduring gods knows what torture they probably want to bring you in for, because you pissed off the guy with the power to take all your rights away. Everything you've done? I'm not a psychic, but I'm smart enough to know that, in the end, it'll mean ---- all. All they have to do is print the right selection of truths in the paper - no need to even lie - and just like that, it's all forgotten. The people who have the authority to write history will only remember you as a traitor. You two can live here until the highlight of your daughter's day is burying your latrine... but the real you, the general? You'll have been dead long before that point. Everything you've accomplished, it'll be attributed to some subordinate who was involved, or to some other general. Your name will have nothing with it except treachery."
Turor gave another shrug, as if to deflect the heaviness of his words. "Eh, but what do I know. I was a child without a purpose before. The Guardians took me in, and made me something. Even if that thing is just a killing machine, I'll never go back to struggling purely for the sake of continuing my own existence. You don't have any realistic options here, from what I can tell, except maybe hoping the King gets assassinated or falls to plague or smallpox or consumption, and his replacement pardons you before old age catches you. Man, I'm almost sad to have met you today. I could die in a fight against a garter snake and my name would be right in the halls of our fallen, alongside people who fell in battle with dragons, but you won't have that honor..." It was possible that Turor didn't know that the King didn't have an heir - which even many of Aelinon's own people didn't know. It was also possible that he was assuming the King would have one before then. Or, it was possible the "replacement" he was talking about would be after some civil war.

Lydia was quite bothered by the Guardian’s words, but Lyon simply found him eccentric. One with particular yet views that made sense.
“So? What’s in a name? Or reputation anyway? I never did anything for the glory, or for my name to go down in history. Well it might for the wrong reasons, but even if that happens, it shouldn’t be a concern. All my hard work, it might be overwritten to have someone else take the credit, and I will just be known as a traitor, but to that I say, so what? Let them rewrite history all they want. Everyone does it. Once you leave this world, you will have no time to worry about anything anymore. No time to worry about what others think of you. There will always be people who tell the story about the real you, and that should be enough. People talking about the traitor general will eventually be just a tale for entertainment, or another page for the history books, cause everyone knows people usually find the bad things more entertaining.” Lyon stated calmly, taking another sip.

Now Lydia was really starting to get angry. Why was her father talking that way? Even if he did make some sense, it was despicable to think his legacy could be so tarnished because of keeping a noble promise that deemed him a traitor in the eyes of a law too strict.
“I’m sad also. Sad for my daughter. You’re right. She didn’t deserve this. If you really don’t mind, let us stay here a while, so we can decide what our next course of action will be. We’ll be very quiet to avoid interrupting your hunt.” Lyon then assured, not certain anymore if they really should stay here, hidden from the rest of the world, or go along with the original plan. This place was peaceful, and since the Guardian didn’t really cared if they stayed or not, they will have the time to think things better, using the cavern’s quiet atmosphere to let the thoughts flow more easily.

At Cymbal’s recovery room, the young caretaker was giving him a much needed brush. There was another caretaker keeping an eye on him, just to make sure he didn’t do anything idiotic like yesterday.
“You poor animal. Attacked by one of your own, cause it was defending a horrible little troll. A troll, your natural prey, isn’t it? I feel sorry for you creature. You didn’t deserve this.” the boy whispered to Cymbal, almost in a singsong voice to pretend he was singing a lullaby to the wyvern. The caretaker found it weird that he of all people would sing anything, but it’s not like it was against the rules, so he didn’t make a very big deal out of it.

Turor didn't give any immediate response, seemingly mulling the words over in his head. After awhile, however, he finally leaned forward. "General Lyon. I don't know whether those words you speak are that of a man who has truly ascended all worldly cares... or a man who's accepted that his situation is hopeless," he said. "The first would be admirable. The second would be understandable. I would caution against discarding the worth of a legacy so quickly, however. In the end, your own legacy isn't just about you - it's about everything connected to you. Just like how people exalt nobles just because of a good family name, everything associated with a bad name gets tarnished.
"For example - say I was a selfish bastard after all, saw 500,000 scales for the both of you as good enough reason to round you up. This would be something purely selfish on my part - but you know what's associated with me? The Ardent Guardians. Suddenly, because of my selfish action, people now know the Guardians to round up Aelinon's political dissidents. And that changes how everything involving the Ardent Guardians is perceived. Suddenly, we're not around because we have a mission to accomplish, but because we're keeping tabs on the King's enemies. The centuries the Ardent Guardians spent to distance themselves politically? Our mandated statelessness? Maybe not everyone would see it that way, but it would convince many who were already suspicious about us that we're out to get them."
Turor took a drink to break things up. "And it doesn't stop there. What happens if I leave the Guardians and join an orphanage that's not the Salvation House? Seeing me there, harvester of dissidents, people will start wondering whether it's actually a cover for indoctrination of children. None of this would be a concern if my allegiance was actually to Aelinon - but this would all spawn because the expectation is that I, as a member of the Ardent Guardians, don't go around serving political ends."
Turor paused a second, thinking of another way to explain it - perhaps one the former General would better understand. "Think about it this way," he proposed. "Your wife - uh, at least I assume your daughter is legitimate, no offense if she's not. Wherever she is, whether she's alive or dead? She'll go down as a traitor's wife, providing comfort and aid to him. Your daughter will forever be known as the traitor's...well, that one actually isn't the best example, since she's also wanted. But you get me. You know those people you hid? Even now, they're seen as conniving vultures looking for their opportunity. Doesn't matter if they even coordinated this with you - the fact that your treachery was covering for them means that they are seen as plotting something, and that might not have been the case if some expedition just stumbled across them one day."
Turor took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. It's not like you even have a choice in the matter, or any options on what to do," he said. "I probably shouldn't even be giving you advice. You've been around a lot longer than I have, and have killed more with a word than I have with all of my weapons and training. Just... realize that your legacy means something. You mean something. And if all it took was one non-lethal misstep to erase all that in the eyes of your government, then, at the very least, you should go to your grave proud of what you've stood for. Someone has to. Do you think none of us in the Ardent Guardians have ever screwed up? Oh, it happens - and there are plenty of disagreements, and sometimes people even leave. Striders, we call those people. The difference between us as an organization, and the sewer conflagration that is your situation, is that, regardless of all of that, we still recognize the value everyone has. From the most lethal warrior, to the youngest child brimming with potential.
"Nothing I can say can really make your situation better, and I guess all I've done is guilt you for accepting your fate. Just... know that I wish things could be better for you," Turor concluded. "Like I said, stay here all you want - my only business here is catching that cattlejacker, and you two are the only people I can find any evidence of here for at least as long as tracks can be followed. The thing hasn't eaten in awhile, nothing substantial anyway. It won't spend the energy running far away." Turor stood up, and his hound knew it was time to get moving again.
"I suppose once I catch it, I could stop here just to avoid leaving you in suspense," he continued. "From there, I'll be gone, and you probably won't see anyone else unless an earthquake uncovers this place and someone stumbles across it. Well, then. Time to get moving." Turor set off once again, with redoubled effort towards the hunt. The hellhound was leading the way, evidently following the scent picked up somewhere...

Lyon still found it weird that many kept calling him a general despite the rank no longer be a part of him. He appreciated Turor trying to be respectful despite not knowing the circumstances involving his wife. He left the Guardian leave without any further words. As eccentric as he was, he did make some sense.
“We stick to the original plan... with just a slight change. The objective was to find the cabin and keep you hidden and protected there, but there’s no need for that now with this place existing. You stay here. I’ll find the nearest town and let myself be captured. It’ll be faster to reach Tal Rogas that way.” Lyon suggested, knowing that with the face Lydia was making, she wasn’t agreeing.
“No daddy! You’re right! Who cares about a legacy? We can just stay here. This place has been here for centuries. Impossible there hasn’t been an earthquake or anything revealing it already, which proves this place is sturdy. Let’s stay here, away from the world, and...” Lydia started to say, but was interrupted again.
“And what? Be prisoners here? It won’t be the same kind of prison from the one we were in, but a prison nonetheless. Mr. Turor is right Lydia. We can’t let our legacy be tarnished. What will become of your life? What profession you can tackle? How can you help people if you’re here? What if you meet someone and have children? How will their generation and the next suffer because of my selfishness to be forgotten?” Lyon pointed out, but Lydia just got gloomy.
“Nobody will want to be with me, not now that I’m an outlaw. And leaving Aelinon while everybody is looking for us...” she paused, with the guilty Lyon taking the chance to talk again.
“Which is why I must do this. Besides, you don’t know that. Some people are bound to believe what’s being done to us is unfair. The Scourge of Redwater, even after what he did, he’s alive and has his defenders. Look at the bounty. It indicates we’re wanted alive. Nobody is going to risk losing an overwhelming amount of money by making such a blatant mistake. Plus I’ll be turning myself in, so there will be no need for anyone to use violence. If king Seraos wants us alive, I must know why.” Lyon indicated, renewing his determination to see the king, even if it was as a captured prisoner.

As hard as it was for Lydia to let everything sink, she decided she was going to respect her father’s wishes, no matter what they were.
“Alright papa. Just... be careful. If they torture you to find me...” she suddenly said, but Lyon wanted to set her mind at ease.
“They won’t. And even if they do, remember that we have trained our minds to resist torture.” Lyon assured, though he wasn’t certain how much he was going to resist now that old age was catching up to him.
“If I don’t return in a week, stay here for as long as you can and wait for the heat to die down so you can make a plan of your own, and leave Aelinon if possible.” he added, knowing that the worst case scenario could indeed happen and Seraos or someone else could end up executing him anyway. With everything settled, Lyon grabbed a pointy rock and started to draw on a small part that was soil.
“Now, this is where we are. The exit I found should be right about... here. If you need to get out for food or just to take some sun, this is where you go. I spotted a small river from this spot. If I follow the river, chances are there’ll be a town nearby. That’s where I’ll turn myself in. If... and only if, by chance nobody knows about the bounty, I’ll try finding a horse or a wyvern and drive to Tal Rogas myself.” Lyon stated, now regretting not asking Turor what was the nearest town was or if he had a wyvern he could borrow. But he didn’t want to be a burden for the busy Guardian with a goal, so he would follow his own plan, his only relief being that his daughter will be safe for the time being...

And so, on the island, Latnok waited as patiently as he could for the others to reach him. There wasn't much he could do in his situation, spent as he was. At the very least, he knew one thing - the fact that Raclaw and the others were still here were a sign of the success of the plan. All that was left was to dig up and skin the corpse.
A major haul, a slaving regime ended - who knew what else this journey had in store? The bar was set pretty high. Latnok wondered what would be happening on the mainland while they were gone.
Of course, Latnok's thoughts weren't about any of Aelinon's politics. The matters, at a glance, seemed ordinary, with the exception of the escape of the treasonous General Lyon and his daughter. However, unbeknownst to many, much roiled beneath the surface. Just as King Seraos needed answers from Lyon, so too did Lyon need answers from Seraos.
Lyon would not be alone in that regard. Sere and Angora would soon arrive at Tal Rogas, where Seraos was expecting them. With Shade's loss of control came many questions as to whether he could be managed, and what his fate should be. Many of Aelinon feared the Scourge, and had doubts as to whether he could truly be controlled. Some saw it as proof that King Seraos cared little for the lives of his people. But if Aelinon could not be trusted to keep the Scourge under control, what would his fate be? Aelinon simply letting Shade go free or surrendering custody to the Guardians would not be an even remotely conceivable option - the former would never stand with the loved ones of all of Shade's victims, and the latter would be legal intervention in Aelinon's affairs far beyond what the Ardent Guardians would ever allow. If keeping Shade under control was not possible, then would he finally be put to death, or was there another option?
This was one of many things Seraos had to consider - among others, such as his current efforts to expand Aelinon's influence beyond just the continent of Galadar. Lyon's contact, the one he committed treason for, was one potential route to establishing a connection with others. They were but a small society, however, from what Seraos knew of them - potentially useful, but his ambitions were higher. Ambitions were a dangerous thing, and he knew it; the higher one flies, the more obvious a target, and the harder the crash. Stability was a king's greatest asset. The threat of all those who would see a slip-up as blood in the water; the resentment that came from every wrong that could not be righted, becoming a powder keg waiting to spark; the doubts held by all those who questioned him from the moment the throne was thrust upon him; all of these things were hanging by a thread. If they became heavy enough, or received just the right disturbance, they would come crashing down, and that would be the end of him - and having no heirs, Aelinon would inevitably be plunged into instability once more.
At the same time, however, allies could help lighten the load in many ways. Fortunately, Seraos wouldn't have to reach too far, to start; though he was always wary (some would say paranoid), there were contacts in the nobility that the Silent Spear had reasonable trust in. The irony was that Seraos had his doubts initially; significant connections to foreign nations often had potential for clashing loyalties. His own Silent Spear, however, did not find any issue, despite their best efforts; thorough investigations revealed an almost suspicious lack of corruption. The discrepancies they did find seemed to be in favor of the people, rather than themselves. Such results led to Seraos bringing them in for a meeting to get to know them. Though Seraos was generally wary, anyone who was thoroughly vetted by the Silent Spear had his own trust. And now, these contacts were a potential doorway into new diplomatic relations. Could things work as he hoped?

Back at the agitator base, Brinecrag was furious How could he be so stupid? He should have stuck to the plan - just slowly act, without prematurely revealing his operation. He idolized Lyon - on top of his impressive service record, the more experienced General stood against the King where no one else dared to. Having such a man on his side was supposed to be incredibly fortuitous, and yet, for how much earlier it had forced him to act, he had nothing to show for it.
Nothing except Lyon, someone whom he had once admired, abandoning them. A man with such seemingly staunch ideals, who would likely be trying to sell them out - sell out the future of the nation, the opportunity to put an end to human tyranny - all for the sake of one woman, his daughter.
No - it wasn't Brinecrag's fault. Not completely, anyway. He just didn't set the bar low enough. He had low expectations for humans, but had no way of predicting that Seraos would be so nonsensical and erratic that he would place a bounty on someone he had just outlawed the previous day.
This was more than a setback. This was a disaster. The trackers reported that the merfolk had covered their tracks well. More than that, however, they reported that the tracks seemingly disappeared. No sign of anyone coming to pick them up - the tracks just completely vanished, as best they could tell. They had even checked the trees to see if the merfolk got the idea of moving from branch to branch like monkeys to avoid making tracks on the ground, but the trees showed no disturbance. If only they had human trackers, who could be counted on to work with dogs...
He didn't have much more time to spare. Things had to be set in motion, even if he couldn't stop them.
Before Brinecrag was one of his mermen. Who it was didn't matter; he was but a courier to the person they would need. He handed the merman a package.
"Make sure you're very careful here," he explained. "The smaller bottle is the poison, the larger one the antidote. With Resistance Day coming not too long from now, Seraos will be partaking in the festivities, if only out of duty. The operation with the hexphage should have been concluded by then. Whatever the effect on the common people, there will still be the meetings among the noble families and Seraos. Even if it looks bad to those on the bottom, even Seraos would know that he cannot afford to lose face by not attending the festivities.
"Instruct our contact to add some to a luxurious bottle of wine, and take the antidote beforehand. The poison is slow-acting, and the antidote will work preemptively. The effects won't kick in until long after the wine has been shared - and with our contact clearly drinking from the same bottle himself in front of multiple witnesses, none will be able to point to him. Let the contact know that I had wanted to wait - but I have no choice. We will free this nation from the iron hand of humanity, even if we cannot get the dominance we need to avoid a power vacuum and the long, bloody war that would result."
The courier nodded along as he was spoken to. "Yes, General. I understand."
Brinecrag nodded back. "Good. Victory at any cost - no more, no less. After all, the corpses of today are the crops of tomorrow."

[NOTE: This is the end of the RP here. We will be moving it to Discord. Feel free to reach out if you are interested.]