Insurgent

Two malformed, yellow eyes trace The Keep's outline, as what remaining daylight glows red against its towers. Small clouds of hot breath roll out from between parted lips, as heavy footfalls cause the snow beneath them to crunch. An attack that will surely go unforgotten has yet to unfold, but Belial knows it must be done. Stepping onto the platform, he pushes one of the massive doors wide open and walks inside. A wave of warmth washes over him, along with the sickly odor that follows every Nostrum. Dozens have found their way back, but not quite all of them, just yet. Taking note of this, he proceeds towards the Great Hall and pulls out a sedative. The sound of empty glass bottles clattering together warns him of what little time remains. Popping the cork, he takes two chugs and places yet another empty bottle in his pocket. As the once foul taste runs down his throat, he finds that it no longer makes him wince. Constant consumption has given him a short-lived immunity to an otherwise unforgiving flavor.

Passing through the archway, he is greeted by twenty-odd Nostrum sitting sparingly among one another, with their gaze telling all. Belial, the Nostrum whose brother died at his side. The Nostrum who watched another suffer the same loss. The Nostrum who has never been away from those he travels with. The Nostrum... who has arrived alone. Their eyes do not leave him as he passes each table without speaking a word, and without having a word spoken. The smell of burnt flesh causes many to recoil in their seats, but they attempt to keep this quiet as he nears Achlys' chamber. Yet, he does not knock at the door. Instead, he takes the seat closest to it, where no others have chosen to dine. With the blackened mask that encases his hand leaving streaks against the wood, he awaits the arrival of a servant, eager to order one last meal. As if this thought had been broadcasted, a cloaked figure steps out from the kitchen area and walks hastily towards him. As she stops across from him- allowing only a smile to be exposed from beneath the hood- Belial removes his hat.

"Evening, Devough."

The woman's smile vanishes immediately upon hearing these words. Noticing her silence, Belial looks up from the table, exposing nearly glowing eyes. Which had been covered by the brim of his hat. Devough clears her throat and shifts her shoulders about. Then, gives a slow bow.

"Evening, Good Nostrum. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Indeed." Rolling the broken end of an arrow between his fingers, Belial ponders what he might order. Then, decides on something new. "I'm thinking... chops of some kind. Perhaps oven-roasted? Yes. Also, an ale of your choosing."

"As you wish." Devough bows once more, but before turning away, she looks to each of the empty seats that surround the disheveled Nostrum.

"Is something the matter?"

"If I may ask-"

"You may not." Belial gives her a stern look as he squeezes the feathered end of his trophy.

"M-my apologies." Swiftly turning away, she hurries off to the kitchen. Leaving Belial to himself once more.

Once the meal arrives, he starts pulling it apart before the platter can even touch the table. The taste of cooked meat has become less satisfying than it had once been. Yet, he cares not. His grumbling stomach won't allow such pickiness when energy is what is needed. Taste to him now is a pleasure that has been all but forgotten. Once the chops have been consumed, he downs the glass of ale, just as another platter is placed before him. The tips of his blistered fingers sting as they come in contact with the meat, but he cares not. Using both hands and no utensils, he continues to gnaw at his meal. Yet, before he can finish this course, the door to Achlys' chamber creaks open. Noticing this, he acknowledges the sounds around him but does not yet look away from his food.

"Nostrum Belial, is that you?"

Nodding, he attempts to swallow a rather large bite, whilst also taking in another. Achlys, seeing his feverish hunger, walks nearer to him.

"What happened out there? Where is Nostrum Briar? Nostrum Cronn?" She looks on as he continues to eat without making any attempt to answer her questions. Then, deciding that he needs to face her, she pulls the platter out from under him. As he snarls at her, she releases it once again and takes a step back. "Nostrum Belial!" She shouts, now having the room's full attention. With the last of his final chop being devoured, he finally faces her. Achlys immediately looks shocked, as the eyes that fill his skull are not those that she has come to know. "Come with me. Now. We must speak." Leaving the table, Belial gladly takes the lead, walking towards the door that remains open with Achlys following close behind. As he steps inside, Achlys turns away for a moment to face Devough, who was following as well. "I apologize, Sweet Devough, but this conversation must remain private." As Devough dips her head low and steps away, Achlys closes the door. Before it latches, the snooping noses of several Nostrum can be seen peeking around it from where they sit in the great hall, until they can no more. Achlys puffs as she turns back to the difficult Nostrum, who has already positioned himself so that he is facing the exit, where she stands. "Nostrum Belial, I understand that you have been going through hardships over these past few days, but I trust you will not let such things get in the way of your communications with me in the future?"

Without speaking, Belial gives a distasteful nod. Then, clops his boots against the floor before plopping down into one of the two chairs across from Achlys'. Acknowledging the gesture, she moves to the other side of the desk and takes her seat. The pair of them study one another for several moments before either speak another word. As if they both anticipate that there is more to his strange arrival than what has already been determined.

"Nostrum Belial, please. Can you tell me where the others are? Nostrum Briar, Cronn, and Yuler?" Achlys' softened voice seems to pique Belial's interest in the conversation, as he immediately perks up. However, the grim look he shares is not what she hoped for.

"I can." He states blatantly.

"Excellent." With a heartfelt smile, she places a hand over his, but finds that he immediately withdraws it. Reading this body language, she sits back in her seat and gives him his space. "So, will you tell me?"

Without hesitation, Belial raises his arm and lets the arrow clatter against Achlys' desk. Once it becomes stationary, he flicks his eyes up at her. Then, removes the blackened cloth from his hand, which peels away at the healing flesh beneath it, and allows it to fall alongside the arrow. With both items being on display for her, Achlys leans in to examine each. Speckles of dried blood cling to one side of the broken shaft, whilst the scorched mask's original color remains partially visible in some areas. Recognizing the origin of each, Achlys gasps and darts her eyes back up to those of Belial, who remains neutral about the knowledge he is sure she now possesses.

"W-what of Nostrum Yuler's whereabouts? Is she-"

"Enough of this!" Belial commands, slamming a fist against the desk as he bolts up from the chair. "Admit what you've already known!"

Achlys, startled, stares back at Belial, whose piercing eyes beam down at her with rage causing the bridge of his nose to twitch. She remains in this state for a brief moment as Belial releases hot breaths from flared nostrils, choosing not to engage with the outburst for as long as she can.

"ADMIT THE TRUTH!" Slamming his fist once more and bellowing these words, he hears the sound of someone attempting to make entry behind him, but chooses to press Achlys further before bothering with what is not yet an interference. "You knew of my condition! You knew of my infection! Yet, you allowed me to keep hunting. You allowed me to stand by the sides of those I had left in this world. You killed Briar, Cronn, and Yuler just as much as I did." Hearing the deadbolt begin to warp under the sheer force of those trying to make their way in, Belial cuts to the chase, towering over the now trembling form that is Achlys. "You stationed The Knellers and dispensed Clathrus Archeri amongst them. You forced me to do what I've done, knowing no one would stop me before it was too late." Belial looks down at his hands, which he no longer recognizes as his own, and balls up both fists. "They all trusted me.... They believed I could fight this... yet, I couldn't help myself but to do what I did. I still can't." Shaking his head and lowering both arms, he seems to slightly relax. As if the solution is as clear as it has ever been. "However... I can decide who it'll be this time."

With Achlys now clutching the handle of a sheathed blade at her side, Belial digs into his right pocket, just as the door bursts open. Both look to where the light pours in, and to their surprise, they are met with the burned, blistered face of Cronn.