A COLD DISH
Fall 271
“Are you sure you don’t want semi-permanent ink?” asked the tattoo artist.
“This one is sure. It will need to last a long time, as this one has much work to do.”
Through a swollen eye from a recent beating, Nairesh looked at the crumpled parchment in his hand as the artist’s needle began to poke the magically infused ink onto his skin. He winced in pain, not only from the artist’s needle but also from the numerous wounds sustained in battle against the City-State task force sent to detain Celestial Arragones that had not yet healed. The fact that he was alive at all was a small miracle. After the fines were paid for the charges levied against him for “obstructing justice” and “intending harm on City-State citizens” and the promised community service in exchange for clemency, the coin handed over to the tattoo artist was literally the last that he had.
Nairesh focused on the words on the list of the first page.
Vaels of the Broken Blade Company…
Celestine Neidre…
Harkov of the Order of Starkhaven…
Ozric of the Ravens…
There were other names on the list, along with notes and descriptions of some of the groups involved during the attack on Celestial Arragones’ estate, but these names stood out more than the others at this time. Nairesh painfully remembered being bound, knocked unconscious several times, and being berated and belittled. Of how Nairesh, so sure of his imminent death in the moment, gave in fully to the emotion and the anger of the moment. Years of practice to not allow emotions to rule him utterly evaporated in seconds as he bled from multiple wounds in the dirt. The pain and sorrow of casting his life’s work into the fire in an act of defiance while watching his friends and fellow scholars bleeding and wounded or laying cold and dead from the City-State’s assault. But Nairesh did not feel one particular emotion; there was no regret for his part in destroying these invaluable things with fire. He was bitter and glad to play his part in the Celestial’s show of defiance; of denying the aggressors what they so desperately wanted that day. They brought their banners and marched on the Celestial’s holdings but the prize they sought was reduced to nothing more than ash.
The beginnings of a solid line from brow to chin sanctifying the Rahd Noc, the Syndar mark of vengeance to those wronged, had officially begun. Vision blurred through emotional anger and the pain of the tattooing, Nairesh squinted and stared at three names in particular, burning them into his mind in this moment as permanently as the tattoo needle set the ink into his flesh.
Researcher Martha…
Noemi…
Zeke Ravana…
END