Again, I find I didn't follow this week's prompt exactly, but that's the beauty of prompts: You don't have to. I'm working with the "Imperial Story" again, jumping around in the plotline, figuring out different pieces of the society as I go. This is the first scene I've written with Andros in his new identity, as Briyant Correleon, and already he seems a little bitter, harder. And I like that, that his character changes over the arc of this storyline.
The prompts I used, or pretended to use, were:
silver - dive bar - calm
This is a snippet of the completed scene; if you're interested to read the whole thing, drop me a line and I'd be glad to email it to you.
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“Excuse me?” The man flagged Jackal down with a wave of his hand. The dialect was foreign for these parts, the vowels too rich – he had to come from money. What was he doing in a place like this? “What is the finest wine you carry?”
Jackal rolled his eyes, wiping his hands on his rag. Whoever this guy was, this was not the bar for him to hang out in. “Vetrian cabernet. Twenty years old.”
“I’ll have a glass, please.” He glanced sideways, “And two glasses for this young couple.”
Anitra tensed, hand on my arm, squeezing a little. “That’s a kind offer,” I said, “but we’ve already beat you to the drinks, I’m afraid.” I held up my glass, taking a long sip.
“I insist.” The man switched chairs, moving closer to me. “It’s not everyday I meet two legends in person.”
“Legends?” Anitra chuckled at that; I could hear the nervousness in her voice, but I doubted he could. “Surely you have confused with someone else.”
He leaned forward, and I caught a hint of vanilla and musk on his clothes. Old money, then; he’d probably never even held a gun, much less fired one. I still let my free hand drop to my lap, out of sight, fingering the gun on my hip.
“You’re Briyant Correleon,” he said, and my finger found the trigger. “Formerly Andros Lambazzia, trained to follow in Wakka’s footsteps until you’d discovered what he’d done. And you,” he turned to Anitra, “You’re his partner, the daughter Wakka lost. Your reputation precedes you.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic, a spy sent to take care of two thorns in the Empire’s side. Keeping my face neutral, not wanting to give anything away, I asked, “And who are you?”
Tilting his head, he held out a hand. On his finger was heavy gold signet ring, engraved with the axe and tree emblem of the House of Berryd, one of the noble families of the Old Empire. “My name is Lucard, representative of the House of Berryd. Our information said you might be found around these parts.”
The door to the bar swung open, and another group of patrons wandered inside, a little louder than the other people in the bar. Lucard’s hand dropped away, and Anitra’s hand slid down to mine, on the handle of my gun. “Perhaps we should take this to a table?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jackal grunted, returning with the wine. The glasses were made of the finest crystal, engraved with the logo of the tavern. Apparently Jackal thought us worthy of pulling out all the stops. “Corner’s free,” he said, gesturing towards the other end of the room.
“Thank you.” Anitra slid off her stool, her hand brushing over my leg as she moved. I was the strategist, planning out raids and battles, but she was the diplomat. “Shall we, gentlemen?”
I made sure to keep myself between Lucard and Anitra as we sat down. The booth Jackal pointed out offered a good view of the empty stage, but also of the bar and the tables around us. “First things first,” I began, tapping my fingers against the wine glass, “How do you know of us?”
Lucard was mid-sip, eyes closed, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Always with the business, your kind. By the time you stop and enjoy life, it’ll be far too late.” Setting the glass down, he leaned forward, towards me. “Your Underground has earned quite the reputation, even reaching the upper echelons. The Nobles are amazed of it – a safe harbor for the refugees and fighters, a place to regroup, utterly brilliant. Not that we know where it is, you see,” he was quick to add, “but the existence of such a place – my, isn’t that a thorn in Cansolee’s side.”
“The way we see it,” Anitra said, “the nobility is part of the reason why Cansolee came into power to begin with. Signing the treaties to allow full military control over the government let him pull his coup.” She never raised her voice, never said anything in such a way that could be seen as demeaning or looking for a fight. But still Lucard recoiled as if she’d struck him, and it was the first hint of shame I saw on his face.
“Ah, yes, there is that.” He stuttered a little, trying to hide it behind a sip of wine. “But the House of Berryd has always been sympathetic to the rebellion’s cause, trying to right a wrong, as it were. We occasionally fund a few groups, provide rations, a place to stay.”
I tried the wine, sure Jackal hadn’t given us anything poisonous. It reminded me of the wine from the celebrations of the Trials, sweet, but richer, a better vintage. “That’s all well and good of you, very noble.” Anitra’s hand squeezed my leg under the table, but I ignored her. “And we figure into this how?”
He looked from me to Anitra. “One of the groups we’re funding is the Lambazzia faction.”
Anitra sucked in a breath. “We weren’t aware Wakka was actively fighting.” We kept what information we knew about the Lambazzias quiet; I knew they’d left the island sanctuary, but not much else.
“Indeed he is. I’m afraid he’s run into a bit of a snag, which is where you come in.”
My free hand balled into a fist. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t owe Wakka a thing. He lied to me, kept me away from my family, raising me to believe I was someone else. “We haven’t said we’d help you.”
“Of course, of course. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Finishing his drink, Lucard attempted to flag Jackal down for another round. If Jackal noticed his waving, he was dutifully ignoring the other man. “If it were just Wakka, I could understand your hesitation. But you haven’t heard the whole story.”
“Just what kind of trouble is he in?” Anitra started playing with the frayed edges of her gloves, a nervous tick she’d had since childhood. I needed to remember that the Lambazzias were her flesh and blood; she was more tied to them than I was.
From his jacket, Lucard pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. Inside were the floor plans to an Imperial holding facility, detailing the guards’ locations, entrances, the best times to get in. “They’ve been captured, and they’re being held here, about 20 kilometers north of this village.”
“They?” I was skeptical, though the plans bore Cansolee’s seal, they were as authentic as they come.”
“The family, him, his wife and children. Our informant says the boys put up a bit of a fight, but there were damages sustained.”
The color drained out of Anitra’s face, and this time it was me squeezing her hand. I needed to keep her focused, her mind on the present, not dwelling on possible injuries. “Damages?” she whispered. “Rosaria, even Salida – they should be able to do something to help.”
Lucard’s face softened, and he reached over to push Anitra’s wine glass towards her. “Take the drink, dear. It will help you relax.” He looked over to me. “The rumor says you two are the best at what you do: taking back what the Empire has stolen. I need you to get Wakka Lambazzia for me.”
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