Work Text:
To the attention of Mrs. Lavorre, Nott and Brave:
I have received this letter on behalf of my elder mentors of the Soltryce Academy. This is a curious bit of fortune, it would seem. I have not spoken with my uncle for quite some time, and while I am sad to hear of his passing, I am also quite interested to hear about this inheritance and the circumstances surrounding his death.
I can be reached at the 31st Wodestone Manor on the northeastern end of the Shimmer Ward of Rexxentrum in the Empire.
I travel often, so should I not be present, present this letter to any present servants and stay within the visitor quarters as our guest.
I will return within a day.
Astrid
Beau scans the letter once more to determine if she has the correct address. And sure enough, she does.
31st Wodestone Manor, in the Shimmer Ward.
The manor in question is a respectable-looking house that rests on an expansive property that seems to bear numerous other abodes, one of many across its sneaking grasses and fencing. All of them wrap around and sit in the shadow of one of the ominous towers of the Candles, a familiar one to her, having visited the tower once before.
If memory serves, and it often did, the tower and the surrounding plot was once under the ownership of Trent Ikithon.
That is, before his rather… “enforced” resignation. A faint smile creeps across Beau’s face as she recalls how satisfying it was to put the bastard in his place.
A light goes up in the house across the plot. Even from far away, Beau can see the silhouette of a female figure peeking out the window. The woman in question is moving her arms and gesticulating her hands, as if she’s casting something.
She finds out soon enough as she hears the voice of Master Astrid Becke in her head.
Ah, Expositor Beauregard. I see you received my invitation. Please, come inside. I will have some tea and snacks prepared.
Beau grimaces a little bit, hearing the words. But she still chooses to send her reply.
“Sure. Not like I got anything better to do.” The words are sent and the spell’s connection fizzles. “Aside from being with my family,” she mutters to herself after the fact.
It has been only six months since Ikithon’s trial and not too long since her own. She’s still getting used to actually living in the capital of the Empire. As a start to it, Beau and Yasha purchased a small plot of land outside the city and a cottage that went with it. It was a nice cottage, with room for a garden in the back. Over time it became like an actual home.
Of course, that didn’t stop the ladies from crashing at Caleb’s place from time to time… or even inviting him over. It was important that the family remain close after all. And that especially was true once she let Clara and TJ into the house.
Chuckling at that memory, Beau makes her way across. As she nears the domicile itself, she can see it in much better detail now. The two-story house is largely built from bleached pale wood and dark window frames, making for a curious contrast. It’s as much of a contrast as the overcast weather of the midday sky and the lush green of the fresh cut grass at her feet.
Taking a moment to straighten her robes, she takes hold of the iron knocker and gives it a very solid slam. A few moments pass before the door opens and she sees a young-ish male halfling in a nice formal-looking suit, dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. He gives a humble bow and goes, “Hallo. Might I help you?”
Beau does her best to look composed and polite. It was never her strong suit. At best, she’s tolerable, though her past lessons with Fjord and further lessons with Clara did help to soften her roughest edges to make her slightly more so.
She clears her throat before she responds in Halfling, “‘Sup. I’m here to see the lady of the house, Master Becke.”
The halfling nods and stands aside. He replies in Halfling as well. “Ah yes, Expositor Lionett. Please, Madame Becke is expecting you. Please follow me.”
Beau nods as the servant leads her further into the manor. Unfortunate that it may be, she’s quite familiar with these homes. She has her own fucking father to thank for that. Therefore, she can easily feel a familiar stuffiness in the air. Comes with the territory of being an elite socialite on top of being a government official, it seems.
The two make their way into what the servant refers to as the “holding chambers”. Upon being escorted in, the servant steps back to the door, he gives another bow.
“The Master will see you shortly. Please, be seated. If you need anything, I am at your disposal.”
And with that, the door closes and Beau is left alone in a very sparsely decorated room.
A surprisingly minimalistic interior compared to the manor’s exterior. Plenty of barren walls and plainly decorated clutches. A serving table is set between two of the couches against a large stained-glass window. The window in particular is just a nondescript, plain pattern. It’s nothing like the windows in Caleb’s Nein-Sided Tower.
Honestly, Beau thinks that this is the best room in the house, given her own life experiences. In fact, as she was walking down the corridors, a lot of it felt more down to earth compared to the more affluent nobles of the Empire. She might decide to have Astrid redecorate a few more of the rooms in such a rustic manner. Maybe at some point, she should bring Yasha along to add her own “unique” design sense, yet another point of revenge against her dad’s ill-gotten gains.
Though perhaps she might also suggest that Astrid should see Caleb’s tower. Unless she already has.
Beau soon hears footsteps approaching from the archway that leads into the hosting chamber. A figure in simple clothes steps in and raises a hand and the low candle light in the room gets brighter to lighten the interior. A human woman in her mid 30s, dirty blonde hair, extremely short in the back, but long and side-combed in the front, framing the right side of her face to just past the chin, and a familiar heavy scar that rides from the top of the brow down to the bottom of the chin.
“Expositor.” The woman, Astrid Becke, says to her in that familiar Zemnian lilt.
Beau responds with the same level of stilted candor. “Master Becke.”
A few moments pass before Astrid walks across the room to join Beau at the table. Up close, Beau can see the familiar marked maze-like tattoos that were the telltale sign of a Volstrucker, although she ascended to become more.
In truth, she earned her new position. Even Beau can’t deny that. It means that they have a mutual ally — or at worst, a morally grey and ambiguous one — within the Cerberus Assembly.
“Tea?”
Beau nods. Astrid then waves her hand and a teapot appears out of thin air and onto the table. Fucking wizards. Nearly gave her a heart attack. Now that would be such a shitty way to go.
The two women take their seats across from each other. Astrid begins pouring the tea. “So you’re probably wondering why I’ve invited you here, Ms. Lionett.”
“I mean, I was in the middle of some personal business, but yeah, I was curious,” Beau replies nonchalantly.
Astrid seems unfazed as their teacups are filled.
The conversation is mostly just small talk and banter. Some more important topics such as the state of the Assembly whenever Astrid was in her presence, or the well-being of certain individuals close to them — Beau knows full well that she is speaking of Caleb and Essek and even Eadwulf whom had seemingly gone on a “spiritual retreat” of sorts, though that could’ve been code for “getting the fuck out of town before I lose it” — or just about the dealings at the Academy and the students there.
There was even talk about whether Beau was interested in providing some lectures on Wynandirian history or even basic self-defense courses on the side. Those things definitely intrigued her. It would mean that she’d be able to keep her ear to the ground and stay close to Caleb to make sure he was safe.
Throughout the whole conversation, though, Beau has noticed that Astrid hadn’t taken a sip of her tea. Or if she had, it was when Beau wasn’t intently looking. Never underestimate the observational skills of an expositor.
Especially when she catches Astrid slipping something into her own tea. She clocks that for later… assuming it is what Beau thinks it is.
As the talk dies down, Beau takes the opportunity to posit a question. “You recall when… Caleb… was dancing with you and you had a conversation?” She had made sure to not call him “Bren”.
Astrid, to her credit, had also refrained from calling him that. It still slips through now and again, but it’s an improvement.
“Yes. What about it?”
Beau clears her throat before speaking. “Well, you had said to him that there were eyes on us regarding the Assembly. And… well, you probably didn’t realize how on the nose you were.”
Astrid raises an eyebrow. “About?”
“About there being eyes on us. I suppose you don’t know the full story about why we raided the sanatorium for these.” Beau then pulls out the divination veiler that to this day has not taken off. Just to be on the safe side.
There’s a moment of hesitation from Astrid as her hand clenches over her own veiler. “I suppose not. There wasn’t really much time to ask, only that Caleb said you needed them to be protected from those that you were pursuing.” She then looks at Beau. “But you are still wearing one. Are you still being pursued by them?”
Beau shakes her head. “No, we’ve dealt with them. I’m still wearing mine for protection against, um… your ‘co-workers’, if you catch my drift.” Astrid glumly nods and Beau continues speaking. “But anyway, I suppose I should tell you…”
From there, Beau gives Astrid the full rundown. Everything about the Somnovem and the Tombtakers and Lucien and Cognouza and Aeor. She makes sure to omit any mention of Essek, in case there were physical ears within the walls, but Astrid already knows anyway.
During this, she goes into detail about the eyes appearing on everyone, herself and Caleb being the first. And also that… that Caleb had died and been resurrected in the final conflict.
That little tidbit had gotten a definite, visceral reaction out of Astrid. Her breath catches and she is left speechless for a moment. “You had to do all that… and try to keep Ikithon off your scent… yet by a fluke he had found you regardless. And then we had to go with him.”
She looks up again and locks eyes with Beau. “He almost killed Caleb. And we almost helped. Meine Götter …”
And you almost dusted my fiancée, Beau thinks to herself but does not say out loud. I mean, how could she when she notices that her shoulders are quaking?
Beau can’t help but feel sorry for her. After all, Astrid was once just an ordinary girl from a humble hamlet, only for Ikithon to notice her “potential” and pervert it and Astrid herself into something cruel. It was her, and Caleb, and Eadwulf, and so many others who had suffered. And it was only recently that he was brought to justice at last.
Astrid then has the nerve to say, “I cannot believe you kept me from killing him. That was not your decision to make. I still feel… resentful, and empty. I wanted to end him, if only to feel satisfied that he’s gone for good…”
She turns away, looking out the window. Beau makes her decision right there as she reaches over the table and places her hand on the archmage’s shoulder.
“Astrid. Look at me.”
She does so. Beau braces herself for what she’s about to say. She’s no fucking therapist, that’s more of Cad’s speed. But godsdammit, she’s no stranger to overcoming those who… hurt… their victims. She can’t bring herself to say the other word. Not yet, anyway.
“I meant what I said. If you had killed him, he would’ve become the hero of your story. He would’ve gone to his grave knowing he ‘won’. That the pain would’ve made you strong enough to do it.”
Beau sighs. So far so good; Astrid hadn’t resorted to immolating her yet.
“I know you feel as if you and Eadwulf are too far gone, that there’s nothing that would’ve made you feel better except for revenge. But… think of the children we’ve managed to save, they’re the future of the Empire, and we kept them off the pyre of ‘progress’. Because you told your story. And people listened to you.”
She pats the shoulder once before placing her hand over her face.
“And it’s up to us, the ones who’ve already been burned, to make sure they stay away from it. If anything, it’s part of the reason why Caleb refused Da’leth’s offer and it was left open for you. He did it because he wanted to help in his own way: by becoming a teacher.”
One more pat before she sits back down.
“And I know that while the Cobalt Soul and the Cerberus Assembly don’t always see eye-to-eye… perhaps we can do so. Work together to leave the Empire better than what we found it, and do it our way.” She shrugs. “At least think about it.”
Astrid sniffles a little, her face still stony and otherwise not showing emotion. Beau’s seen that face before, she’s felt that face before. The face of someone resigned to their fate, the face of someone… who wants to end it all.
Beau knows she’s made the right choice. She says nothing further, she can only pray that Astrid chooses wisely.
Astrid sighs heavily. Without another word, she takes her teacup and finally drinks. At this point, the tea is cold. Beau takes her cup as well and drinks.
She can feel it easily. And thus her suspicions are confirmed.
Astrid places her teacup back on the saucer. She frowns, as if expecting something.
“Something wrong, Astrid?”
She looks at Beau and asks, “What’s going on?” And then in Zemnian, which Beau can understand due to her dope monk shit, “I could’ve sworn that I used the correct amount. Do I need more or…?”
A moment passes and when she looks at the teacups, she tilts her head and then sharply looks at Beau. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean?” Beau responds, knowing full well what Astrid is insinuating.
Astrid doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she sighs. “You staged an intervention yet again, didn’t you?”
Beau looks away. “Maybe. I just… I’ve been in your situation before. Not the ‘icky sicko experimented on me and I feel too lost to want anything more than the end’ feeling. But… At one point, I almost gave up, too. I would’ve gladly thrown everything away, just to avoid the pain.”
She then looks back to Astrid. “My friends convinced me to stay, to not give up. I wouldn’t be where I am without them.” She stands up and sits right next to the archmage. “And right now, I thought I might pay it forward. Kinda for myself, but I’m also doing it for Caleb. He still cares about you.”
Astrid laughs. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. And… Like it or not, I want to be your friend. Guess Jester’s rubbed off on me more than I thought. At the very least, I want to help you… if you’re willing to help me. Okay?”
Astrid doesn’t reply at first. And then… the quaking of her body intensifies as her composure crumbles in real-time. Beau takes her arm and gives her a side hug.
“It’s okay. Let it all out.” And then, almost as an afterthought as Astrid starts crying, she adds, “Your ‘special blend’ was right on the money. It would’ve definitely killed me if I wasn’t already immune. If you need someone to test in the future… I’d volunteer as tribute.”
There is a brief moment of silence before the crying is replaced by a weak chuckle from the woman right next to her. And soon after, they’re both laughing.
“Thank you… Beauregard,” Astrid says to her, pausing only due to a brief hiccup from her sobs. “Thank you for… for giving me a chance.”
Beau can’t help but smile. And she can’t help but quote what Dairon once said to her, once upon a time, “I did it because a long time ago, I was a wayward girl with no direction, was angry, and fighting at the world. And someone did this for me. So, again, I just felt like I should pay it forward."
Astrid nods. “Caleb is quite fortunate to have a friend like you.”
Beau shakes her head. “He’s family. The brother I never had.” She briefly tightens her hold on the mage. “We can both do some good. A lot of good. We all can.”
”For the greater good?”
Beau scoffs. ”Yeah, but… for the right reasons.”
Not much else is spoken between them. At least, not much more related to why Beau was initially invited. But at the very least, Beau was able to have Astrid’s ear, and give her hope that they can make their home better.
And so far, it’s been working. Adon Zeenoth. Thoreau Lionett. Trent Ikithon. Monsters that were brought low, to never haunt their home any further.
All things considered, mission accomplished.