bolderfell | Prismatica Inbox

Oh, dear. You didn't do the rest of the job out of pride, did you?

Setting aside all matters of the bangle, I'm sure the implication that you'd be content to leave a job half-finished would be even more offensive to a master thief's sensibilities.

Hell, you sound just like her. 'You seem like someone who would never abandon responsibility,' yadda yadda. Something like that. At least Heathcote spared my feelings by telling her no.

Though I'll admit that I refused before he did. Maybe...not necessarily for the sin of leaving something half-done, but for other matters of pride. I got myself into their mess, and damned if I didn't get myself out.

Something like that.

Anyway, I'm not sure either of them could have won me over without the other. It wasn't just what either one said or did for me, in the end, but also...seeing what they were to each other. That wasn't something I understood until my next return to Bolderfall, after I failed to retrieve the emerald stone.

I called you a stubborn thing once, didn't I? I see my assessment was accurate.

You failed to bring one back? What happened?

[A longer pause.]

My old partner got there first. It was my first time seeing him since we parted ways, and I was less prepared for interference than I could've been.

Edited 2020-08-30 19:20 (UTC)

He rattled you.

[He is, maybe, interpreting that from Therion's actual words. There is also an excellent change that he is not, in fact, interpreting that from anything Therion said at all.]

Did he harm you again?

He didn't even try.

He just left me to his henchmen and returned north with the stone. Cruel of him, really. Either he forgot just how good I am, or he figured a few men to slow me down was an acceptable loss.

Overconfidence always comes with a price. I hope you made him regret it.

I wonder.

[But he doesn't unpack what, exactly, he wonders about.]

I had to explain some of it to Cordelia and Heathcote when I returned empty-handed. Neither of them disbelieved me. Cordelia...told me she understood. And she did. I'd thought her such a meek little naif, a sheltered princess standing in Heathcote's shadow, but I didn't know...exactly how much betrayal she'd had to endure. Not until then. And she still, somehow, always managed to see me or Heathcote off with a farewell. And with her trust.

I didn't think of it until later, but at seventeen, she's about the age I was when Darius tried to kill me. You said I was a child when I met him. How young must she have been, to be so much stronger at that age?

The sort of betrayal, I suppose, that leads a sheltered girl and her aged retainer to resort to the services of a thief for help. I was wrong, before — their consigning you wasn't about moral character at all.

It was that she had no one left. Wasn't it.

Yeah. No one but Heathcote.

This is what she told me: 'From the moment we met...Heathcote has never once betrayed me.' Just that. She didn't mention any grand gestures or oaths he swore her. The old man just never, ever did anything to shake loose her belief. That's why she can still trust others, she told me. And she said that that trust, even after everything she's been through, was what made her strong.

And she said...that she had faith in me, too.

A seventeen-year-old girl. I'll never forget it.

And suddenly it wasn't about the bangle or your pride.

You were ready to do it for her. For that faith she had in you.

A stronger leash than any stupid metal band, isn't it? And at the same time, it's probably the one thing that set me free.

After that, with some assistance from Heathcote, I won both the gold and emerald stones from Darius and brought them back to Bolderfall. This time, when Cordelia asked Heathcote to unlock the bangle...well. Old coot said there was no need. What do you know, the lock was undone way back at the return of the second stone.

...

And you hadn't noticed?

Did I, didn't I? Who can say.

Answer me, or I'll tell you a terribly unsatisfying story.

Come on, saying one way or the other isn't nearly as good storytelling. Isn't it better when both are equally true?

No, and you know very well it isn't, and I'll remember this, you insufferable brat.

But don't worry, I'll have my little revenge sooner or later.

I'm shaking in my boots. What do you have for me, then?

I do like to see you tremble.

But regardless, I think I'll tell you a story about an object, myself. A treasure of sorts, that held the power to grant its user's heart's desire, when bathed in the light of the full moon.

Ah, magical and dangerous. Bet it's pretty, too.

Think it's clear by now I'll never say no to a story about treasure. What's this one called?

The Forlorn Hope. It's a mirror, about the size of a person's hand. It's also one of a set of three treasures known as the Artifacts of Darkness, said to exist in the world for the sake of balance. For good to exist, there must also be evil in equal measure. In this case, someone saw fit to concentrate that evil into this particular trio of artifacts.

But before I tell you any more about it, I want an answer from you. What would you do with such a treasure, if you were to possess it? What desire would using it grant you?

[From the length of time he takes to answer, he's giving it the careful thought a question like that deserves, even if what he finally ends up saying is just:]

I don't know. Don't know that I would have a use for something like that. Even if I didn't know it was somehow full of evil -- and don't get me wrong. If I knew, I wouldn't use it because I'm a mistrustful cynic, not because I'm some kind of saint -- I just can't think of anything I'd ever want that badly.

Probably I'd keep it around in case some need arose. But maybe not. Just not the kind of thing I typically go in for.

Cordelia is stricken with poison and will die before an antidote can be found. You're watching her perish, slowly and in pain, before your eyes.

She's hiding it from you, badly but dutifully, because she fears it would be bothersome to you to allow you see her suffering.

Yes. I'd use it.

A demon who used it once felt similarly.

It's a little-known bit of apocrypha in the long tale of the Forlorn Hope. A demon risked life and limb to spirit away the treasure from the vault where it was kept, not to conquer the world or to imbue itself with infinite power, but because a wish on the Forlorn Hope might preserve the life of a human woman.

It's rare for a demon to develop that sort of sentiment. Most demons that sympathize with humans are seen as traitors to their own kind. But I always thought it a little admirable of that one, to set out to do something so selfless.

Of course, it's not called the Forlorn Hope without reason. There are conditions attached to the granting of one's heart's desire. And in this case, the price of the Forlorn Hope is the user's life.

Poetic, isn't it? It grants its user's greatest desire, and they will never live to see it come to fruition. They die with forlorn hope.

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