Episode 2, Scene 4 Sneak Peek #3

The opening of Scene 4 can go differently if the player selects to take control of the meeting with Lethalis themselves or leave it to Aeran. The first two previews were from the player-controlled branch; this is from the Aeran version.

Conditional statements have been removed; this version is for low-approval Lethalis. 

She smiles faintly. It’s impossible to tell whether she finds his prickly demeanour amusing or not. “Aeran Kellis, I take it? You certainly match your description.”

“I’d love to know who gave it to you,” he says flatly.

The mage fixes him with a cool stare and rests her bejeweled hand against the table’s surface. Its gemstone pulses dimly, casting a strange light around her wrist and fingers. “You’re notorious among certain circles, Wayfarer Kellis,” she says. “People talk.”

“Do they now? Hate to know what I did to get the attention of the Guild—”

“Divided though we are, there is one commonality shared among all sects of the Guild of Mages. Our alliances go beyond the Council, beyond the Guild. The Order of Lethalis has supporters across Rhesainia, from political courts to the Merchants’ Consortium to the lords of the criminal underworld. I had heard of you long before Zenaida proposed her alliance—”

He laughs harshly. “Alliance? Do you know why I’m here, Umbria Bellaris?”

She regards him with a cool look and gestures for him to continue.

“I’m here for the crowns she promised us,” he continues, pointing at Zenaida. “I don’t care about the petty politics of Guild sects, I care about $nickname’s well-being. You may know me by reputation, but I’m not here to live up to it. Forget the Wayfarer Order; it no longer exists. We’re mercenaries now. We were hired for a job. Let us do it or get out of the fucking way.”

An uneasy silence settles over the table. The Lethalis mages shift in their seats, seemingly uncertain how to handle Aeran’s curtness. If his interchange with the Archsage is any indication, he has made it clear he is unwilling to waste time on simple things like politeness and civility.

You can’t blame him. It’s not like you’d have the patience for their bullshit either.

The lanky elf clicks their tongue and leans forward in their seat, resting their elbows on the table. “And here I thought you were a student of Brissa Varyn,” they say, fiddling idly with an emerald ring and spinning it on the table’s surface. “I see you inherited her sharp tongue, but none of her tact.”

“She didn’t train me to be a diplomat, she trained me to be a Wayfarer,” Aeran retorts. “And even she had her limits—”

The elf scoffs and flicks their ring, spinning it faster and faster. Aeran pauses, the harsh lines of his scowl standing out sharply in the chandelier’s white light. His fingers flex, a movement you know all too well—almost as if he’s about to reach for his quiver and put an arrow on the string.

“Veyer Krellion, right?” he says.

The elf tilts their head, a dangerous smile on their lips. “So you do recognize me. I wondered how much Brissa spoke of me—”

“Nothing flattering. I know you’re the Guild’s representative in the Arathian court. You argued against the retraction of the decree outlawing Wayfarer movement in Imperial territories.”

The smile disappears. “Didn’t think you’d be interested in politics ten years gone, boy.”

“Ten years is not that long ago. I was there, I heard you speak—”

“Regardless, what does it matter? Brissa Varyn was successful and the decree was retracted. Be thankful for that. If it still had effect today, this little gathering would not be possible.”