It had been about a day since his last visit to the Nicollier’s townhouse. Tiberius hadn’t slept, crackling with manic adrenaline since an ill-fated encounter at the columbarium. Part of him felt like a passenger behind his own eyes, wondering when his energy would flag and the crash would hit, overwhelming him.
Not for some time, if they were lucky.
The early hours of the morning had involved a great deal of magic. The carriage was pulled out of storage and warded. Horses had been acquired – formally beautiful animals, just beginning to suffer under the darkspawn siege – now host to demons in thrall to his own. Thankfully there hadn’t been much to pack in his rented rooms. Tiberius’ long standing indifference had seen most of his servants and possessions sent away or abandoned long ago. His clothes, a handful of small sentimental items, and that was all.
This was a special occasion, though. He’d made a little more effort in self presentation. Tiberius arrived at the townhouse in his best clothes, hair and beard freshly trimmed. He dismounted the carriage bench with his mage staff tucked under his arm like a more reasonable man might carry a walking stick. The horses had stopped exactly where he willed and stood twitching eerily beneath their skin, lather coated, white eyes rolling in their heads. Viewing his handiwork in the morning sun, he regretted their destruction.
But living animals would not tolerate being worked through the blighted countryside – nor being run for days at a time. A more charitable person might say a useful death was better than a slow starvation but he had no time to bother lying to himself. The footman at the door was gray faced under his mask, sickly against the rich color of his starched collar. Tiberius smiled at him without warmth.
“Let the Nicolliers know I’m here to collect their daughter now. If you please.”
Not for some time, if they were lucky.
The early hours of the morning had involved a great deal of magic. The carriage was pulled out of storage and warded. Horses had been acquired – formally beautiful animals, just beginning to suffer under the darkspawn siege – now host to demons in thrall to his own. Thankfully there hadn’t been much to pack in his rented rooms. Tiberius’ long standing indifference had seen most of his servants and possessions sent away or abandoned long ago. His clothes, a handful of small sentimental items, and that was all.
This was a special occasion, though. He’d made a little more effort in self presentation. Tiberius arrived at the townhouse in his best clothes, hair and beard freshly trimmed. He dismounted the carriage bench with his mage staff tucked under his arm like a more reasonable man might carry a walking stick. The horses had stopped exactly where he willed and stood twitching eerily beneath their skin, lather coated, white eyes rolling in their heads. Viewing his handiwork in the morning sun, he regretted their destruction.
But living animals would not tolerate being worked through the blighted countryside – nor being run for days at a time. A more charitable person might say a useful death was better than a slow starvation but he had no time to bother lying to himself. The footman at the door was gray faced under his mask, sickly against the rich color of his starched collar. Tiberius smiled at him without warmth.
“Let the Nicolliers know I’m here to collect their daughter now. If you please.”
04-11-2024, 04:06 PM
