Quendalon/Session08ZeraInterlude
It was morning, and the first rays of sunlight felt good on Zera's face. It was perhaps the only thing that felt good - the rest of his body felt like it had been beaten with a barbarian's club. He groaned slightly as he shambled down the worn path, and Thorwald glanced backward in concern. Sparrows and jays twittered, mixing with the jangle of Thorwald's greatsword in a pastiche that Zera found somewhat unpleasant. His mood was odd this morning, and he felt that it had to do with more than last night's attack. His mind wandered as they made their way down the road, glancing at the cracked paving stones beneath his boots as he struggled behind the Northman. What was it that plagued him so? What dark thoughts lurked in the back of his troubled mind? As the sun approached its noontime zenith, it came to him. He nodded slowly, the epiphany sending his mind reeling. He was perceiving the situation all wrong...
Thorwald glanced back again, and his thick eyebrow arched at Zera's grim countenance. He almost thought to ask him if he was well enough to travel, but he found himself strangely hesitant. He didn't like that expression one bit, and he soon chalked it up to the moodiness of these Southern folk, and turned his attention to the road, perhaps praying for another spirit to antagonize.
The girl-demon was a sign, Zera was sure of it. It was the Unconquered Sun itself shining the light of wisdom too brightly to be ignored. He remembered the ungrateful, nameless woman and child from Thorns that slowed them down and forced a confrontation with the deathknight-child. He recalled the thief from his childhood that took advantage of his naive pity. His way was now clear. Zera Thisse had always possessed a strong survival instinct, and in his youth it had made him selfish in some regards. As he traveled with his new companions, his Circle, he learned to care for the needs of others. It had earned him nothing but pain. Compassion was weakness, it was simple as that. No more would the needs of those too weak to fend for themselves get in the way of what needed to be done. The best way to help such individuals was to let them live or die by their own merit. He felt foolish for not realizing this earlier.
Aekino and possibly even Li would quite possibly attempt to stop him from freeing the Fey queen Cessair. They might even have good reason. Perhaps her rescue would be ungratefully received, perhaps it would wreak havoc on the area and bring war and pain and sorrow. Perhaps. Nevertheless, Zera was completely convinced that she knew things about him, when he wore different skin. He knew he had been a woman named Kuro the Raven, and he felt quite sure that he had spent time in this area. Thorwald may even have done the same, and Zera found it all too fitting that Thorwald was the one who accompanied him on this mission. It was also better that the Northman was along, Zera thought, because he wouldn't ask too many questions or slow the proceedings with opinions and arguments. When it came down to it, he would listen, and this rescue would go as efficiently as possible. Yes, he would know what Cessair had to say about Blessed Wind and Kuro the Raven. He would see her saved from her prison, and if this daughter of hers didn't see fit to help, then she would only be in the way. He rather thought that she would be only too happy to help, and he had a sneaking suspicion that should she be reluctant, perhaps her action-craving son could be convinced. Either way, she was coming out of that tower, and Zera would lie, cheat, steal, and kill anyone who opposed him to see it done.
Thorwald glanced back one more time, and liked the look on Zera's face even less. There was trouble ahead, and he wasn't sure if there was much he could do about it…
