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Var’gash carefully made his way across the long walkway in the middle of the dark, empty room. The usual red and purple glow of the crystals and Slayn’s Terrazine-choked night bathed the place in an ominous atmosphere; it did nothing to help his nerves.
Ahead of him, Alarak stood at the window, back turned to him and that stupidly intricate throne on the raised platform at the end of the path.
In the silence, the first Ascendant wondered if he had finally decided to discipline him for his behaviour; sending Ga’hli to spy on him while on Aiur had been risky, and he knew that the Highlord had noticed considering how cautious he and his aide had been.
Finally, he stood at the foot of the steps leading up to that throne and bowed deeply.
“Highlord. You summoned me?”
“You are late.”
“Apologies, I was attending to something—”
He glanced back, scoffing and waving a hand dismissively. “I am sure.”
After a few moments of contemplating the swirl of purple fog outside, Alarak turned towards him, with a laziness that would have read as arrogance if Var’gash didn’t know better. The silence was as oppressive as the darkness in the chamber, and the first Ascendant eyed him carefully as he began to circle him like a predator considering its next meal.
Finally, he gave in to the nervousness he felt, prompting him with a soft, meek; “What would you ask of me?”
“Do not grovel. I am fully aware of your intentions, Var’gash. Instead of sending spies to find some sort of leverage, or poisoning the waters with your rumours, I suggest you grow a spine and challenge me directly as I had told the rest of them to do.”
The first Ascendant held the Highlord’s gaze carefully, considering what he might say in reply. He kept his body tensed; hands folded close to his middle where he kept his Votary’s knife in his sash. “I have no intention of that, Highlord. I resent the accusation that I would be meddling at all.”
Alarak scoffed, rolling his eyes so hard that his head moved with them, armour shifting too loudly in the tense quiet.
“Spare me your games. You think I do not have spies of my own? One would think that a former priest would know to cover their tracks more thoroughly.”
Var’gash felt his heart beat quicken, mind racing through all of his activity over his time in his current position. When could he have possibly revealed his intentions? When was he followed? How could Alarak have possibly—?
“Well?”
There was no use in protesting further and he knew it. His shoulders sagged slightly, and he had to resist the urge to look to the floor. “… Perhaps there is some substance to your suspicions, Highlord.”
“Better.” He stopped a few feet from him on the walkway, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. “I have summoned you to put forward a proposition before your little challenge.”
Var’gash frowned just slightly, head tilting.
“A proposition?”
For a moment, he could have sworn he saw the Highlord hesitate; a slight twitch of his brow, an expression that made him pause. This was new. Suddenly his anxiety became a bottomless well; he stood a little straighter.
“I have spent some time around the edge of the pit. There is a small platform at the mouth of it, just below the stage. If a challenger were still alive, then perhaps it could be used to climb back out.”
The first Ascendant couldn’t help but let confusion pass over his face. “… What are you implying?”
“Do not feign ignorance, Var’gash, you know.”
None of this made sense. His whole body was tensed like a coiled spring. The silence ticked by for what seemed like an age. There must be something that he wasn’t seeing, something that would ensure that all the work he had put into place was for nothing. He could barely utter his next question.
“You would spare my life?”
Alarak paused and seemed to pull back slightly, drawing himself up and squaring his shoulders.
“No. You will spare mine.”
Var’gash stared at the Highlord, finally noticing the prickle of shame underpinning the harsh façade, the tired look behind the usual sharpness in his eyes. It had been a lie before, a rumour that he had created to slowly turn the tide in his favour, but…
“In exchange for the Tal’darim, you will drop me while I am still alive.”
In the moment, before he could even properly form a response, he let out a soft, musical laugh, disbelief plain on his usually controlled features.
“What is so amusing—?”
“I must be missing something, Highlord. Surely you would not try such an obvious trick—”
“Oh please, if I had aimed to trick you, it would have been here, and you would have been dead as you stepped into the room.” He spat, shooting a harsh, almost murderous glare at him. “You have made far too much trouble for me, Var’gash, and it is only because I know that killing you will cause a mutiny that I do not take advantage of having you here alone.”
The former priest froze slightly, the desperation of his rival suddenly shifting into very sharp focus. Ga’hli had not managed to find anything at all that would indicate unusual behaviour from the Highlord, but… That didn’t mean there wasn’t anything there. He knew acutely the golden opportunity that had dropped into his lap; surely Alarak didn’t want to die, or he would never have asked.
He finally, maybe, had that one reason he had secretly wished for, and get at least something close to closure for his mother after all this time. He just had to make sure that Alarak thought his fate was still uncertain.
“… If you truly wish for me to spare you, I want one thing.”
The Highlord’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Information.”
“… That would depend on the information.”
He felt a little bolder then, letting his own eyes narrow as he let out a scoff. “As though you have a choice.”
“I do not care if you kill me; you will know only what I allow you to know.”
“Then… Why ask at all?” He stepped forward impulsively. “I want to know why you would ask for this at all.”
“As though I would tell you.”
Var’gash thought back to his aide, the phase-smith that he was always with that Ga’hli had tried to follow with little success.
“… Is it because of her?”
“Who?”
“That aide of yours. Ri’kara. I know that you are at least friends, Alarak; I might not be able to prove any more yet, but I know—”
Alarak let out an incredulous chuckle, rolling his eyes. “Tch. She is at best a thorn in my side; useful, nothing more. If she believes that we are allies, then that is her own delusion. Why would I do this for a phase-smith?”
Of course. If only Ga’hli had found something that he could use that was concrete rather than their speculations and his own gut feeling. Without evidence…
“Then…” He quickly tried to grasp for something else. “What happened to Ji’nara?”
Alarak shrugged. “I had expected you to ask that first rather than chase some ridiculous fabrication. Regardless, you know the answer; she was becoming a nuisance, so I sent her to die.”
“I’ve heard otherwise—”
“I am sure. You should be wary of those little rumours, Var’gash. They may have said much about me, but they have also said much about you.”
For a Protoss that seemed so desperate, he was certainly smug; his oddly cocky demeanour was grating the longer he held this one thing over his head. Did he want to die? Var’gash couldn’t help but snap.
“And what have they said about me?”
“That you were a soft little chosen one, favoured by your mother and kept as her heir. Pity that you never did get your revenge for all that effort you put in to get here.”
There was an arrogant little twinge to his voice that almost made Var’gash snap again, as though he were taunting him for being able to take the one thing that he had started this for away, as though it were a joy to make everything he had sacrificed for nothing.
“You wish for information so badly, Var’gash?”
He turned away, scowling slightly. “Not that you have any to give, clearly; maybe I will kill you.”
Alarak rolled his eyes again. “You got here in order to get revenge for your mother. Clearly family is important to you. Even now I would call you a weak fool for such sentiments.”
Then he seemed to relax, his voice shifting to an almost disinterested tone. “Perhaps you would like to know of your father?”
Something stirred in his chest, a brief hope that perhaps he’d have something like he had with his mother again. He could barely speak, voice dropping to a whisper unbidden.
“… He is alive? My mother barely mentioned—”
“Killed by his pet before it escaped to Aiur.”
All at once, that hope was snuffed, replaced by more anger as he snapped his head up and glared at him. “What use is that to me—?”
“You also have a brother. Alive, last I heard; he scuttled into some hole in the ground as soon as it was clear that I would kill Ma’lash. I could not help but notice that he looks almost exactly like you.”
He stopped, frowning as he remembered the brief shock that passed across Alarak’s face when he had looked to where he was spectating around the edge of the pit, the name he had called him when they finally met after his victory.
“That name—”
“An old rival of mine. The universe certainly found it amusing when it sent you to be my downfall.”
Questions began to flood his racing mind, more than he could ever hope to get from the Tal’darim in front of him. Still, he stepped forward, hoping that he could ask at least one—
Alarak lifted one hand sharply, stopping him in his tracks. “Is that enough information, first Ascendant?”
Var’gash deflated, folding his hands back at his middle. “… Yes.”
“Good. I expect an answer by dawn, along with your public challenge; I grow tired of waiting.”
“… Yes, Highlord.”
With that, Alarak walked back to the window, contemplating the landscape once more. Silence washed over them, and though he had been dismissed, the former priest lingered for a few moments. There must have been a reason…
He turned, taking one step towards the door, and froze as the Highlord spoke again.
"Var’gash. A word of advice."
"Yes, Highlord?"
"Once you have ascended, keep that dog of yours chained tightly."
Cautiously, he glanced back at him. "What…?”
He turned his head just enough to look him in the eyes. “Should you falter, should your plans to build on my ‘flimsy foundation’ fail, should you fall, he will turn the Tal'darim backwards and into oblivion for even a chance at revenge."
“… Gahl’i is as devoted to our cause as I; he has been with me since the beginning, and he would never do such a thing even if I were to be killed. He values my vision too much.”
Alarak scoffed, shaking his head. “His devotion? It lies with you; you are the value, not your cause.”
He frowned, fully turning to face him again. “You are wrong. He would never do such a thing—”
“He will. I have seen it in his eyes, and that difference between you and whatever foolishness you call a ‘cause’ is vast, I can assure you."
He blinked, once again looking him over. There was no hint of that earlier arrogance, or boredom, only an even, serious tone.
This was the real exchange. The realisation was not lost on him, but the very idea that his most trusted companion would abandon everything he had fought for was… Insane. As insane as this whole offer without an explanation as to why he was suddenly willing to relinquish everything to him.
“I can’t say that I believe you, Highlord, but… Thank you for your advice.”
If he hadn’t been watching so closely, he might have missed the slight tilt of Alarak’s head; a bow. He returned it before turning back to the door and making his way out of the large chamber.
The doors slid closed with an echoing boom down the high, narrow corridor. Before he could even speak, Gahl’i had pushed himself from against the wall he had been leaning against to wait.
“So… What did he want?”
Alarak’s words rattled in his head as he looked into the eyes of the Protoss that he would die for if given the choice. Would he truly do what the Highlord predicted? Doubt squirmed in his gut. He let out a soft sigh, feigning a smile.
“Let’s go; I’ll tell you all about it once we’re somewhere where the walls are not listening.”