Magical conversation

The sound of dying crows quickly dissipates, the poor birds without any chance of survival as the large mana-made spears pierce their small bodies.

Brandubh looks at one of the distant corners where such an event happened, slowly caressing his chin as he tries to watch. He shudders once, before turning his gaze back to Sol.

"It seems you are not one for an audience. No matter, it doesn't change anything."

"The audience is not necessarily a problem, it's their distrustful gazes. Trust is something irreplaceable."

"Trust is a fools' errand. A sign of people having nothing interesting enough going on to be taken away forcefully. A fault most have to suffer when rising up the ranks. I trust someone like yourself does not hold this vanity to such a standard?"

"Vanity? How harsh."

The two more magical inclined men continue their walk, climbing the stairs and reaching the top of one of the towers. Swarms of all different types of birds fly close to the tower, nearly covering the sky with their unending amount of bodies. Sol looks at the multiple swarms, holding his aura at the ready as he feels mana from the wizard before him mixed into some of the birds.

"Don't kill them, replacing them is quite troublesome." Brandubh says as he softly ticks Sol's hand, the mana dispersing by the will of its wielder. Sol decides to enjoy the view, looking down at Wra'thez and whatever it has to offer. Sound and vision dominated by the birds and the harsh cold wind carried in the air.

He slightly leans over using no magic, he looks down properly realizing the height. A tower as high as the peak of a cathedral, no one capable of surviving such a fall. Blood pumps through his veins as a slight smile appears.

The feeling of being alive. To be this high in the air, unchained, unrestricted. Truly alive.

…

'How addicting.' Sol thinks to himself still not able to erase the smile.

"There are and were much prettier sights than this. I've heard plenty of paladins exclaim their fervor for "the dawn", apparently the theocracy also holds sanitation and cleanliness in high esteem. In case mountain ranges and nature are more to your style than the still unclaimed uncivilized parts of the central holy empire might be more appealing. Assuming that you'ill survive the encounter with their "natives" of course." Brandubh says, as he follows Sol's gaze. Looking at the somber atmosphere of the city and it's surroundings.

"I'm quite tired. Can we finish this?"

"Of course." Brandubh simply responds as he points toward the west. The distance where you can still see the many footsteps and hooves leaving their marks. "There went the army led by the grand duke, his heir, the martial and some of the upper nobility. At the start they held a standoff with the slave master Vessen. Things have changed, however."

"That was already discussed."

"Patience." Brandubh says whilst shushing the impatient witch. "His 3 "Sopoirs"are greedy but not suicidal. Besides their differences make it difficult to align themselves fully. Thus, they're looking for individual means to gather a profit." Brandubh now points at the shore, the volatile waters bringing in another corpse.

"More precisely I've discovered that one of the three has sent a combination of mercenaries and slaves to raid our coastal lines. The main army is currently unable to deal with the issue and quite frankly I've grown tired of having to use my ability for this conflict. I wish for it to end soon so that important matters could finally receive my attention."

"I'm guessing that this is the price for your silence?"

"Oh no, no, I've done you a favor, and I'm simply asking for a favor in return. I won't force you to do anything. Still considering your.... "demonstrated abilities" I thought this would have been a good fit.

"I'm not a senseless killer." Sol responds gritting his teeth as the emerald eyes look with at Brandubh, the crow beaked mask wearing magician not shying away from the hostile glare.

"Perhaps not senseless." Brandubh responds as he grabs the hand of Sol forcefully, opening his palm. The one scarred right hand's palm in both their vision. "I don't judge you. You can only do that yourself." Brandubh says before letting go of the hand. "This concludes our small discussion, farewell night dweller."

The figure of Brandubh slowly walks away, leaving behind Sol. The emerald colored eyes switching where the figure left and the still open palm of his right hand. More precisely looking at the scar. A crow lands next to Sol, the bird's eyes staring straight at the jeweled eyes of Sol. With no sense of aura surrounding this crow, Sol decides to let the crow simply stare.

He leans over once again over once again, his heart beating wildly as the heavy wind tries desperately to throw him off balance. Using blood magic, Sol strengthens his grip as he leans over even more. A familiar hand pulls him back, spectral in essence. The emerald eyes see Cornelius stand behind him.

"I can fly, remember?"

"The possibility of death wasn't an issue. The fascination with it was. If your hearth asks for you to kill yourself. Ignore it." Cornelius nearly commands, his tone more firm than when he used to train Secessus.

"What did your hearth say? When you picked me up? When you let me be stabbed or when you restricted me?"

"…"

"You say you're there for me and will always return. But you're not… you're not always there… You abandon me and then later you return. For what? You let me be broken just to save me? I don't get it! Nothing makes sense!"

"..."

"I spoke to the mage about trust... How ironic.... I hate it... I hate that after everything, I actually do still trust you." Secessus speaks not hiding his emotions, a visible smile appears on Cornelius's face as he sees two figures stand before him. The one he found and the one now before him. A welcome illusion his mind has made.

"I'm flattered, little Ed.... Remember, everything I do and will ever do is for you. Nothing will ever change that." Cornelius says as one of his hands covers both of Sol's eyes.

"Why?" Sol asks, sounding more tired than emotional. A weight disappears off his eyes as the figure of Cornelius disappeared once again.

"I hate it." He mumbles before walking down the stairs, searching for someone of the party.