Mess With One Stavrosi and You Mess With Us All

[Arette]

It had been a week since Calvin's burial and Arette was still siezed with melancholy and bouts of sniveling provoked by little things. Of course she did grieved Calvin but such dramatic displays were bothersome for everyone. Light, on the worst day she had bawled over the thought of Matthias, Hala, Mia and little Danae growing up without mother... or well, the tears had come when she had thought right afterwards of her own mother who had sent her away when she was only seven. And she would NOT cry because of Annele Nenatiar, not after all these years. She might not be able to control the world and people around her, something she had realized to be an illusion all along since her exile, but her emotions and her body were hers. She couldn't drown her sorrow on making love to Con so she settled for pushing her physical limits by agonizing her muscles with a rigid training program on early mornings and late evenings. She would be fit and slim again before their wedding and Con would find her beautiful. After all he had complemented her a few times when she had taken up excercising in the first place in the Tower.

 

The only but was that Con hadn't said a word about the whole marriage. He probably thought that she was mourning Calvin and wouldn't want to wed so soon after her loss. He couldn't have been more wrong though. Calvin had tried to break them apart and prevent the wedding and she wouldn't allow him to succeed, not even by dying. And she couldn't be certain that the mourning time was the only thing that held his tongue, he could still be bothered by Calvin's revelations. She didn't want to pressure or hurry him in any way and even Electra held her zeal to see them married like proper parents should be. Electra would have been her best ally in getting quiet a wedding arranged but no matter how she wanted to be Con's wife, the initiative would have to come from him. Maybe she should just speak with him but she revolted at the logic. He should speak with her, not vice versa. She had to admit that she also worried about their wedding night and the nights after that. There were only three bed rooms in the house and even if they got a room of their own, the girls would sleep there and the walls weren't exactly sound-proof. The thought of everyone hearing them didn't sit well with the Andoran propriety. But she would live even with that because she would be Mistress Stavros then. Maybe she would grow used to it.

 

She tried to keep herself busy to keep the unpleasent thoughts at bay and Light knew that there was alot to do. The women of Stavrosi family often helped each others with chores even though they lived in different houses but because she wanted to get to know Con's relatives better, it had become a daily practice. Arette was either at one of his sibglins' place or the sisters and sisters-in-law came to Electra's house... with all their children. She had actually had to draw a family tree and make a list of them to make some sense of the relationships. Electra had fifty-three grandchildren and three grandgrandchildren. The fourth one was on its way for Cilia, a girl who was only sixteen. Arette tried her very best to not show her disapproval of the practice of marrying so horribly young... well, some girls in Andor married when they were seventeen or eighteen but still. When she thought of herself at that age, she had most definately not been ready for motherhood and marriage. She had been very sheltered though and in Perfumed Quarters children had to start working early. And in Andoran farms and she had had to do chores too. But not as much as the children here.

 

She and Con still hadn't had their discussion about all the reasons behind the poorness of the Quarters and what could be done about it but while waiting for it, she taught Matthias, Mia and Hala to read. Occasionally some of the younger female cousins joined their sessions too, but not all of the parents saw the merit and use of the skill. Especially since their mothers knew only the basics if even that. Ilia wanted to learn and it pleased her greatly but she was still working on some of the other sisters. It would be so much more convenient if they could teach their own children since there was no way that she could see to over twenty children who were of age to be able to learn. She wasn't certain if she had even Electra convinced. Ilia had explained to her that exactly the kind of stories children loved the best had made Con and Mia leave home and that Electra was afraid it could happen again. Still, Con was back now and the deep scars on his face told that the world wasn't just an exciting adventure. Electra tolerated what she did if she didn't courage it and Arette was certain that she too enjoyed the sessions before bed time when she read aloud a chapter. And Electra most definately laughed at Mistress Cincochina's Journeys that she read only for the women.

 

Thankfully they had now a good supply of parchment, ink and books since Con had deemed it safe enough for her to go to town if she just wore the Mask of Mirrors and Arette had been able to visit Helena Emporios. She was careful around the retired Brown since she couldn't be certain that she wasn't a Black Sister. She never spoke of the girls or Con or where she lived at and the elder Sister was sensitive enough to not ask questions from her. But Helena knew that she could be found from the Perfumed Quarters teaching some children since she had asked her Sister to provide her with tools for that. Helena had managed to convince a few families to let her teach their children so had been doing the same than Arette now for over a year in the Quarters. But most of her time Helena spent at her farm outside the city. Her specialty was botany and the lands surrounding her place were a veritable paradise of lush vegetation that didn't pale much to a Stedding in Arette's opinion. It had been a shock to return to the Perfumed Quarters after being surrounded by all the wonderful smells and sights and the intelligent conversation and she had been quite depressed the next day. She missed Tar Valon and she was angry at herself for not letting the past go and embracing her new life fully. But she had Con and the girls and Con's family was starting to feel like the family she had always wanted.

 

That day Arette was on almost cheery mood and she had enjoyed overseeing Hala's and Mia's writing and playing with Rana, Cina and Danae between doing laundry on turns with Ilia. Leptine and her flock had just left so it was strangely quiet in the house. They could hear the clatter of pottery as Electra prepared dinner in the kitchen. The peaceful moment was broken when the front door opened and Con stepped inside followed by some of his men. His early arrival was strange but the look on his face explained it. Arette couldn't remember seeing him this anguished in a long time. She gasped at the blood stains on his clothes and rushed to him running her hands all over him to make sure he wasn't hurt. To her relief the blood didn't seem to be his. She stuck to his side offering him the comfort of being close to someone. "What has happened, Con?"

[Wayfarer]

Hugging Arette tightly, Con took the moment of comfort that was to be found in it before breaking away. He couldn't answer her, not yet, he had to speak to mother. Walking over to her, he took his mother's arm and guided her to the nearest chair. Her face was ashen as he did so, she had seen the blood and she had seen Con's face as well as that of the men with him, whatever news that her son was going to give her it was not going to be kind. Before Con could say anything, his mother took hold of his hand as if she were hanging onto a ledge hanging over a great chasm and everything depended on her holding on.

 

"Who?"

 

"Philip." A sob wracked her, but Con continued even as his mother did her best to remain in control. "His Philotas did be coming to fetch us, mercaneries wanted his coin. He did be handing it over but they did be attacking him anyway. By the time we do be getting there, he be only a breath away. He no be alone when he went to the Creator's embrace."

 

There was no more holding it in as a wail erupted from his mother's lips. Taking her into his arms as she hunched forward, the same pain that wracked her could no longer be contained by Con as tears he had denied finally flowed. Through blurry tears, Con could see his men stepping outside to leave them to their grief even as he saw Arette hug Illia, the pair as stricken as himself and his mother. Philip had been seven when he left and when Con had returned the man had been twenty seven with a family of his own and wry humour that could lighten even the worst situation. Con had only begun to renew the bonds with his younger brother, and now his brother was gone. Killed for nothing, or some moment's amusement, a waste.

 

How much time had passed he couldn't have said, but when a knock came at the door he felt like he had not a drop of water left in him. Leaving his mother to Illia and Arette who had since collected the children and sat with them, Con walked over to the door and answered it. It was Brandeis, and the fact that he motioned for him to step outside with the others who were standing there didn't bode well. Shutting the door behind him, Con stepped away from it as he listened to what Brandeis had to say, the others huddling around them.

 

"I went to the Magistrate, Con. I asked to be seen, I pleaded, I demanded and did everything I could. After about half an hour someone came out to see what the noise was about, I described the attackers as Philotas did. The moment I said it happened here in the Perfumed Quarter they stopped listening and the moment I said that they were mercaneries that did it I was told to get out or I'd be put in the stocks. It was only when a pair of guards came to haul me away that I left, they're not going to do a thing."

 

Cocking his head in disbelief at Brandeis, Con tried to say something but nothing would come out. The Perfumed Quarters had been ignored for years, but to know it was his brother's death they ignored was to know a rage that fouled the very essence of his being. His arms flexed at his sides as he his fingers tried to dig their way into his palms, he could only manage a hoarse whisper as he asked a very simple question. "Where are they?"

 

"Con, its not a good ide-"

 

"WHERE ARE THEY?!" In all the time they had spent together, Con had never shouted at any of those gathered around him in anger. It was enough to shock the answer about of Brandeis who had taken half a step back.

 

"They're billeted near the gate, just a dozen houses away from Lanic Evangel. Abandoned house, was told it used to belong to the Danica's." Realising what he had said, Brandeis reached out for Con's shoulder but he had already turned away. Opening the door, Con didn't even see the looks he received, nor the words that were spoken. Going to his room he only needed two things, his swordbelt which he quickly strapped on and his cloak that was quickly thrown on. He quickly emerged from his room with steel at his side, past those who tried to stop him and out onto the street, unaware if anyone was following him or not, focused only on where he was going.

 

However long it took it didn't matter, all Con knew was that the door before him was the one that led into the house containing the mercaneries. Levelling a kick into it that ripped the rusted hinges from the doorframe as it flew back, his longsword came to hand as he stepped through the threshold to cobe confronted by eight pairs of incredulous eyes. The owner of the closest pair fell to the ground screaming as Con slashed the man's legs with a heavy hack. That seemed to wake the others from their daze, but a second one was down before anyone cleared a weapon from their scabbard.

 

A roar that Con didn't recognise as his own filled his ears as he parried an attack so forcefully that the blade flew from the attacker's hand. The return arc opening his guts to the open air, the man was forgotten as Con sidestepped the Courtier Taps his Fan even as he replied the Low Wind Rising, taking the man's sword at the forearm cleanly and leaving a spurting stump. The blood filling his eyes, Con stepped back and slashed wildly while he wiped his eyes clean, battering aside a hasty parry and biting deep into a man's shoulder.

 

The moment did create a pause though, long enough for Con to notice something very important. One of the men, perhaps no older than twenty, was wearing Philip's silver wedding band. Where the fury had suffused him now, it almost choked him. Taking great ragged breaths, he yelled as he feinted to his right before falling to one knee and thrusting to his left, spitting one who thought to take advantage. Ripping his blade free as he stood and slashed to the right, he took the throat of the man he had feinted at even as the one with Philip's ring came forward.

 

Moving aside the blow, Con snagged the man's arm and spun, whipping the man around and sending him staggering into a wall. Squatting under the thrust of the last man who had thought to wait him out, Con's reply thrust took the man in the armpit and found lungs. Pulling the sword free, Con viciously kicked the man onto his back even as he drowned in his own blood.

 

The man who wore Philip's wedding band was back on his feet but Con was already upon him. But for him, Con wouldn't give him a quick release with the edge of his blade. Instead he belted the man with the flat, striking at his; knees, shoulders, ribs, head, anywhere that the man feebly tried to defend until he stopped moving and even then he didn't cease. Not even when arms grabbed him and pulled him away was he aware of anything beyond his rage until a slap across the face from Brandeis brought him to.

 

Looking at those around him and seeing the looks on their faces ranging from fear to disgust to worry, Con felt his anger lessen as other feelings came to the fore. As did the awareness of a stickiness that seemed to coat him. Blood, all over him blood. Not so noticeable on his cloak which was dark, but it was all over his face, in his hair, trying to rub it away seemed to make it worse.

 

"Con, forget this. We need to leave in case someone reports it. They might not have cared for your brother but they will care about soldiers they've hired on being killed."

 

Looking at Brandeis, Con nodded but rather than head for the door he knelt down to the unrecognisable mess that had been one of Philip's killers. Grabbing the ring finger, Con yanked the wedding band from it before standing and reclaiming his sword. Sheathing it, he pulled the cowl of his cloak over his head before stepping outside. His men forming a cluster around him to shield him from view, he gripped the wedding band tightly in his hand as they made their way back home.

 

 

Con Stavros

[Arette]

Should she have stopped him? That was the thought that had bothered Arette all day after Con had fetched his sword and returned back sprayed in blood. She could have restrained him with the One Power but avenging his brother might have been necessary for him to do, especially since the local authorities weren't going to lift a finger. If there had been some positive effect on him, it most definately wasn't showing yet. He hadn't eaten anything and was very withdrawn, refusing to speak to even her. The only active things he had done had been giving Electra the wedding ring of Philip and tending his blade. She had left him alone until only the two of them were awake. She had no idea what time it was but they both went to bed early and it was definately past the normal hour. He just sat there quietly and unmoving and most likely would stay up all night like that if something wasn't done. Abandoning her knitting that she hadn't been able to focus on anyway, she sat beside him and wrapped her arm around him.

 

"Con, you can't go on like that", she chided him gently. "It is eating you and you should get it out somehow. Talk to me, excercise, hit something... anything but just sit there and be like that."

 

Feeling Arette's arm around him, Con only half heard her as she asked him to talk, or to do something. Anything. He couldn't. Ever since he had returned he had sat there with the thoughts of what had happened running through his mind. He had taken up his sword in rage and had stormed over to the house where the mercaneries had been staying and he had kicked the door in. He didn't feel bad that he had killed them, that in itself scared him because he had always regretted killing. But more than that, when he had fought them he hadn't done so to kill. He had deliberately maimed them, wanted them to hurt. Fatal wounds but ones that would take time, and the man who had worn Philips silver band, it made him ill. His men had seen it as well, seen the raging animal he had become, bereft of any control or thought except to lash out, to cause pain. It sickened him to the core as it had no doubt sickened his companions.

 

Her words didn't seem to make any impact, she wasn't certain if he had even heard her. She squatted in front of him and cupped his face firmly but he was almost like looking through her. She wouldn't let him ignore her and stay in the loop of his own dark thoughts. "You forced me to do this." She pulled back her arm and brought it on his cheek with all the strenght she could muster. It left an angry red hand print and her palm was on fire. She winced, rubbed her hand and fervently hoped to get some kind of a reaction.

 

Stars filled Con's vision as he wobbled in his seat, trying to keep himself steady. Something that didn't quite work as he slid from his seat and onto the ground. Raising a hand to his left cheek as it cried to him, he felt woozy. Light but it hurt, and there was Arette nursing her hand, no wonder. Groaning, Con shook his head to try and clear it but that made the feeling only worse. Why? "Why did you be doing that?"

 

"I'm sorry, love", she cried and fell on her knees hugging his waist and hiding her face on his side and muffling her voice. "I just can't watch you like that." He pulled her a bit apart from him to hear better and she craned her neck to meet his eyes. "This is about those men, isn't it? Is it guilt, regret or what? Did you enjoy killing them? Believe me, you wouldn't be the first one in the world to feel like that."

 

Nodding mutely as Arette asked if it was about the men, he was quiet as she continued. Enjoyed? Con wasn't sure if he had enjoyed it, he had just wanted it more than anything else. He didn't feel clean of it either, not even after he had washed all the blood from himself and had scrubbed his skin red raw. He disliked killing, but this was... Con couldn't describe it, but he tried to nevertheless. "When I do be going, I did be wanting to not only kill but to hurt. Make them suffer, more than anything I did be wanting that. I no be having control, no be better than an animal. What I did..." Con averted his eyes as he pulled Arette close to him for what comfort he could garner from it, yet not even having her so close could banish those thoughts.

 

Words couldn't ease Con, but she had to at least try. Stroking his face she tried to convince him. "You are a good man, Con, one of the best that I know. We all do things from time to time that we regret and it feels like you weren't yourself at all that moment." Like all those times she had hurt those she loved: she might not have done anything to them physically but she had played their weaknesses and broke their trust just because she had felt bad. "But you are in control now and an animal wouldn't feel remorse. The important thing is what you will do from now on. Will you wield the blade and prove yourself that what you did today wasn't the real you? Light knows that you and your men could make a difference. If no one does anything, Philip will not be the only one who falls victim to the mercenaries. They seem to be only getting worse." Alright, she was using her knowledge of him now by appealing to his sense of duty. But it was for a good cause.

 

"I'm sick of killing people." That was the plain truth of it, something he had known for years. He had fought on battlefields, in melees and skirmishes, duels and all manner of combat. But after all of these years some things had never changed, he had never taken a liking to killing people and he'd never become indifferent to it either. When he'd first left his home, it had been with dreams of fighting shadowspawn and protecting people, but more often than not he had been required to turn his blade on others. As a Tower Guard, he could only think of a single battle he had ever wielded his blade against the shadow. He had fought Darkfriends, thieves and assassins and those he could somewhat justify to himself. But he had also killed farmers and townsmen, people who had thought they had been doing the right thing when they had rallied under a Dragon.

 

Those were things he carried with him, and knowing that everyone he killed mattered to someone else. For the Children he had been little better, he had fought bandits and the like but he had disagreed with other things as well. All his life he had tried to fight one cause or another and all he had done was hurt innocents along the way. Now without a cause he had lost control of himself, and even if he couldn't regret killing them he should not have wanted to do what he did. To lose control of himself, and with his years of training, what risk did he pose with a sword in hand to those around him if he lost control again?

 

Arette's heart ached for him and for a moment she just held him. She withdraw slightly with a sigh. "Then don't kill anymore. I'm sure that someone with your skill is capable of that." She thought for a moment trying to find the right words since she wasn't that proficient in soldier's cant. "Disarming, stunning and that kind of things. But I don't think that you should give up the blade entirely. It is a trade that you have mastered and even though everything can be used badly and for bad causes, there are good ways too. If anyone can find how to do that, it is you."

 

She might not have thought that giving up the blade was a good idea, but to Con that sounded like a perfectly good one. A sword was made for one puprose, to kill, it didn't serve any other reason than that. If he wanted to live a life where he no longer killed, then he would have no need for such a thing. He needed to put the blade out of reach, discard it, rid himself of it. It was he who had wielded it so, Con couldn't forget that it was he who had done the killing, but nevertheless he would rid himself of it all the same. "No. A sword only be having one purpose, I do be done with it as of now. By the light and my hope of salvation and rebirth, I never be wielding a sword again. Never again."

 

Con's oath made her eyes pop out and she tried to futilely quiet him by placing her fingers over his lips. But it was done. "The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills", she said with forlorn resignation. Still she didn't have to like it. She raged quietly at the unfairness of it all: this kind of things had happened to them all too often of late, first his face, then Calvin choking on a bloody burning fishbone and now his sword. Centuries of practice kept the frustration out of her voice, though and she was able to speak neutrally. "What will you do now then? Will you give up the leadership of your men?"

 

"They do be following as they wish to, they choose who do be leading them." Getting to his feet, Con still felt a little shakey but he was able to keep his balance and there were no stars in his vision to distract him. Taking Arette's hand as she stood in turn, the sadness that had given way to his self loathing had returned as the latter began to disperse with the oath he had given. "As to what I do be doing now, I do be going to bed. Would you stay with me?"

 

There was no question about the loyalty of his men and Arette was glad of that. They would force Con to do something and anchor him to normal life. And he hadn't forswore from all weapons, just the sword. Calvin had used the axe so maybe there was still hope that he would not give up all those years of training. Squeezing his hand tight as he took a hold of hers, his words lighted a small glimmer of hope in her eyes. She supressed it quickly and angrily. Of course he hadn't meant it that way. What was wrong with her? His brother had died today and here she was just thinking bedding him. It had been the option for the slapping but she couldn't have bore the possibility of being rejected. Hiding her disappointment for their wedding night getting postponed by yet another mourning time, she placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "I will always stay with you, Con." With that they headed to his bed where layers of clothes kept them apart like was proper. He fell asleep soon enough comforted by her closeness but for exactly that same reason sleep eluded her; that and the accursed tears muted by the pillow. Bloody Calvin and now Philip too. She prayed for them and it gave her some peace.

[Wayfarer]

The service hadn't been long but it had been draining. Con had in some ways become quite a hard man when he had been at the Tower, learning to ignore his feelings when he was upset or hide away from them in the void. His own training under Andular had slowly eroded away his use of the void as it was frowned upon to use such mental techniques, and his return to Illian had brought back many things about him that he had once suppressed. Emotions ran freely amongst family and today was no exception, he had cried with the others and he hadn't felt any shame in it, it was just their way.

 

And he missed Philip, he had only come to rediscover his younger brother and how much he had changed over twenty years, but that hadn't made things any easier for Con. His brother, murdered in the street, something that still made him angry. Yet there was also disgust within him for what he had done afterward, easier since Arette had helped him the night before, but he struggled with it all the same. He had done a terrible thing, it was why he had given his sword away in the morning. With it had been a small memory that had made him smile but beyond that he was glad to be rid of the blade. He'd killed enough people with it, that was never what he had wanted to be. A defender perhaps, but with a sword it never seemed to work out quite that way.

 

The service had taken place on their fishing boat and it was midday when they finally pulled back into harbour. Stepping off the ship and helping others step onto the dock, he was glad to be off the ship as it allowed him to regain some sense of normality. Much in the same way the walk home gave him the time he needed, and with Arette's arm looped around his it made it easier. But there were more concerns as well, the Perfumed Quarters were getting worse. The mercaneries that had been arriving by ship were coming to sign on service, but more often than not were staying in the Perfumed Quarters to find entertainment and were even starting to be billeted there. Street roughs were likewise becoming a problem, using the fear that was rising in the quarter to take advantage.

 

Such thoughts were banished from his mind as they arrived home as a strange sight confronted him. Perhaps twenty men were gathered there, most of which he recognised and all of them were Evangel and Verilli men, kinsmen by marriage. Tyros, a brother in law, seemed to be the one leading them as he stepped away from the others as he spoke. "Con, we do be knowing what you did be doing to those murderers that did be killing Philip. They also be the ones who did be attacking my Paula a week ago, and we do be owing you a debt."

 

"It do be more than that though. You did be at the Tower for many years and then a Whitecloak. We do be asking for you to be teaching us, so that we may be learning how to defend our families. Our families did be speaking of it last night, and we do be those who be able to be training while our families continue fishing. Please. You do be knowing that they won't be helping us in the city."

 

Con wasn't sure what had put him more off balance. That Tyros, who was a proud Verilli, would offer so plaintive a plea, or the very idea that was being proposed. He had just given up the sword, yet at the same time there were those that needed help. They weren't asking to become heroes or warriors, they were asking to learn how to defend themselves. All strong men, men that could learn how to use weapons and be a match for those who came to take advantage of them. More so, Philip's death proved Tyros right, the magistrates would not help and they would not send their soldiers to make things right. But violence...

 

Stepping away from Arette, Con advanced on Tyros until he was no more than a few feet away. Silent, different conflicting thoughts contended until he settled upon a simple compromise. A compromise that he voiced in a soft yet firm voice. "Any man I would be calling my student would be agreeing to two things. To obey instructions given and to be only using what fighting be taught to be defending themselves, their families and our people. If you do be able to swear those things by your hope of salvation and rebirth, then I do be able to help. Bind yourselves by these principles if you do be true, or be walking away for I no be teaching what I know to be misused."

 

There was a pause, but first Tyros and then the others kneeled one by one and gave their oaths. Something that had perhaps never been seen in the Perfumed Quarter before, to give birth to something that no one could have ever expected. But it was something that would be the cause of trouble for times to come.

 

The militia was born.