This chapter was written in collaboration with Scylla.
Scylla was deep in study of the tales of the Warrior of Light – the hero who had bested the Crystal Tower and left it back in sleep. Ben recommended the collection to augment her current studies on Allag.
Rumor has it that Ben knows the Warrior of Light personally… not that I want another audience with the fellow.
She knew that the section on the Allagans was towards the back of the book, but her mind was drawn to the recurring puppet master villains found in the beginning of the tales.
The tales spoke of their immortality and power over nations. Beast-men rose up in rebellion at their word, governments fell at their direction. The mage let her finger trace around the sketch of a shadow-robed figure as she whispered under her breath. Scylla shivered as a sudden breeze passed across the sands, but didn’t notice the piece of parchment wedging itself under her foot.
What followed was a wild, clamoring sound of a tripping mass of ears and mopped hair broke her concentration.
Still is struggling with his coordination…
Though she hadn’t threatened Amon lately, he had maintained his distance from her. Much had been revealed in their past tragedy of errors, it did nothing to erase the nightmares of the Allagan direwolves that remained in her mind. Still, she did her best to remain civil as to not make the living situation worse for the others.
“Amon!” Scylla shook her head, sporting an icy frown at the Elezen. “Can’t you see that I am trying to study here?”
Amon’s eyes followed the parchment’s trajectory, mulling over how he could retrieve it without drawing too much attention to the contents it held. Of course it would lodge itself somewhere he wouldn’t dare to reach.
He might get himself bit if he tried.
“My apologies for walking down this public street, Princess,” the Elezen tried to keep the sneer out of his voice. He wasn’t really in the mood to pick a full-on squabble as he had more important matters on his mind. But Scylla’s own-all-she-touches attitude always grated on his nerves. “Shall I take care not to share the same air as you, too?”
The Bard frowned sharply, then decided to do a full-on invasion of personal space. “I was simply passing by. I come here often as I do enjoy the tea.”
Amon plucked a book from the table, inspected the spine, then opened it and paged through it without scholarly purpose.
“Trying to find a way to get rid of me, I suppose?”
She could see Amon was in a particularly bold and cheeky mood. It was as if they were at school once again, with Amon grabbing things that didn’t belong to him. Bad things often happened to her belongings that ended up in his possession.
But it was different now. There was no clockwork attendant that would stop her from blasting him off the bench and upside down into the sand. But she had promised Ben that she would work on self-control, no matter how appealing that was. Scylla bit her lip, giving Amon a dangerous stare.
“I don’t speak for the air… nor the tea…” The white mage grabbed the book and tugged from one end. “But not everything belongs to you anymore, oh great and masterful technologist.”
“Belongs to me?” Amon arched an eyebrow. “You’re the Miss Allagan Royalty here. Not I. Since when did anything belong to me? Us technologists were simply the civil servants of the Empire.”
The Elezen tugged back further on the book, waiting to see if she’d pull harder, baiting her for the big let-go.