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Arun glanced up over his rounded glasses as the door to their common room slid open.
It was late, only the purple glow of the Terrazine mist outside and the muted, red crystal lamps to illuminate the face of the visitor.
For once, Alarak wasn’t in his armour. His eyes glimmered in the half-light under a troubled frown; an expression that had become all too familiar on him as of late. Arun gestured to the cushion at the opposite end of the long, low table.
“I have a game if you wish to join me, Highlord.”
He said nothing, kneeling where he had been directed and flicking his gaze over the current pieces on the board.
After a moment, he picked up one of the bright red supplicant pieces and moved it to surround the one of his own darker red ones, picking it delicately from where it had been surrounded by the other pieces and setting it aside.
“Ah, I missed that.” Arun moved his highlord piece back one square, towards the pit closest to him.
“You tend to forget your stragglers.”
He nodded. Even the Highlord’s voice was subdued; he didn’t think he had ever seen him this… anxious about something. He moved another piece.
“You certainly left for Aiur in a hurry last I saw you.”
Alarak once again said nothing, moving another supplicant across the board.
“And that stay was longer.”
“Tch. Missed me, Arun?”
“Certainly not when you have no respect for your elders.” He chuckled, moving his highlord piece back again as Alarak took another supplicant. He eyed the markers on the board’s sides but decided not to draw attention to them just yet; he was close to passing one.
“I was called away for something urgent, that is all.”
Another supplicant taken. Arun had forgotten how frustratingly good his opponent was, but he only needed to be moved back one more square.
“It must have troubled you.”
“And what makes you think that?”
He shrugged, moving another supplicant and finally taking one of his. “You are neglecting your sleep to play this with an old man.”
Alarak rolled his eyes. “You are barely past five hundred. You are not old.”
“I feel it. If you sent me out into the pits for some proper exercise, perhaps I would not creak so much.”
“You are better suited here where you can heal the others.”
“Not that it has been needed lately. Rak’Shirs directed towards you have certainly died down.”
Finally, after a few clever movements, Alarak took another supplicant, pushing Arun’s highlord into the prime position.
With a triumphant smirk, he pulled out the five spare supplicant pieces and placed them in the area just after the marker he had passed, stifling a laugh at the profoundly disappointed expression of his opponent. “At least it allows me to practice my plays.”
“Ugh. Temple rulings, Arun? You could have had the decency to tell me.”
“That would ruin the fun of seeing the look on your face.”
He rolled his eyes again. “You are lucky you are useful to me, old man.”
Arun chuckled, gesturing for him to make his next move.
There was a long silence as they played, broken only by the occasional mutterings from one or both of them as they each thought their way around the board between them. Then, the Highlord spoke.
“… The aide I was given was attacked.”
The supplicant’s hand froze over the piece he was about to pick up for a moment as he glanced across the table. His face had an odd twinge of regret? Guilt?
“And that was what was so urgent?”
Alarak nodded. “We had not anticipated that the Aiur Tal’darim would act in such a manner.”
“And to think that they insist that they are better than us; that would seem to be a delusion.” He tilted his head. “Is she not one of them?”
“They believed her a traitor.”
“… She is alive, at least?”
He nodded, washing relief over him. “Apparently the injuries are better than they appear.”
Arun winced. He could only imagine what would have made a warrior look bad enough that that was the reassurance given. He spoke cautiously. “If you do not trust the healers on Aiur, I could—”
“No. The fewer ties that can be connected to me the better.”
That made sense, though different from his usual response whenever the supplicant offered his services to others. Usually he prattled on about not wasting him on fools. As though his four companions were not utter fools themselves.
“I imagine it was distressing for her. Will she continue to work for you?” He watched him idly play with one of his taken pieces, his eyes drifting, unfocused on their game.
Alarak nodded again, tapping the dark red figure against the metal in lieu of his claws; it made less noise than that usual nervous tic of his.
“You seem… Worried for her.”
“Concerned.” He corrected, shooting a half-hearted glare at him. “I have been forced to stand by while Artanis investigates the matter. I would have dearly enjoyed gutting them; perhaps then they would know better than to see her as a target.”
The supplicant tilted his head. The way he was talking was more akin to how he would speak of his first Ascendant than some aide that he had been assigned against his will. He had spoken of her little, though always as a nuisance up until now.
He hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully, though he knew that whatever he asked now would be brushed aside. “Do you feel responsible? For her attack, I mean.”
“Tch. As though I had anything to do with that debacle.”
“They attacked her because of her association with you.”
He said nothing, though his shoulders sagged a little in the half-light. There it was.
“It is not like you to blame yourself, Highlord.”
“I am disguised on Aiur and have been ordered to keep to the central buildings in their main city; I could never have been an easy target. Cowardice. If they wished to send a message to me, they should have come to me.”
“Would it have been productive for you to have been beaten?”
“As though I would have allowed it.” He glared a little. “Killing them would have been trivial.”
Arun sighed, moving one of his pieces. “Caution is not cowardice. What happened to this aide is unfortunate, but it is the way of things. I am sure that you and this ‘Artanis’ have ensured this will not happen again.”
“Only as far as he will allow.”
“Understandable. Aiur is not Slayn.”
“Obviously.”
It was strange to see him so single-minded about such a thing; it was as though he had been beaten and left to die on some back street rather than an aide that he supposedly did not care much about. Perhaps she had grown on him as they had.
“… I can understand the feeling of powerlessness, but you have done what was required of you. Apart from allowing me to see her.”
Alarak rolled his eyes, but he moved another piece, once more focusing on the game. The atmosphere seemed to ease as they fell back into the rhythm of their turns, even as his opponent took more of his pieces; he could never get used to how casually good the Highlord was at it, even if he had been the one to teach him.
Finally, his highlord piece was pushed back into the hole on the board. Rak’Shir had finished.
“Well played. One day I will beat you.”
A smug smirk crept across his eyes, and he slightly bowed his head. “One day. Keep practicing, Arun.”
Without another word, he stood, walking back towards the door. Just before he stepped over the threshold, he stopped, not bothering to look back at him as he spoke.
“I am grateful for the talk.”
All he did was nod, knowing better than to act smug in return at that moment. Alarak was never one to admit that these types of discussions helped.
The door closed behind him, and Arun rubbed his tired eyes, packing away the game in its ornate metal box carefully and counting the pieces to ensure he had picked them all up.
“You are welcome.”