The interior of the tent was simple, a cot was placed along the right side of the tent, opposite of the cot was a small wooden chest with an iron lock ensuring no one attempted to steal from it.
In the far corner of the room sat a coat hanger, a deep black cloak with silver accents hung there. In front of the tent, all the way across the tent, was a small wooden table. Three chairs were placed around it, one of which was occupied by a figure.
The figure wore a simple black vest over a white button up shirt, his pants were held to his waist by a black belt that went along with the color of his boots. The only oddity was the mask the figure still wore, even within the confines of his own tent, a twisted grin marred into the surface.
Oscar seemed to naturally look towards the floor, hesitant to even look at the figure in case he drew their attention.
Kellian appeared much more composed, inspecting the figure thoroughly, his eyes latched onto the attempting to divulge anything he could about the appearance beneath the mask.
'Of course, no ticks.' Kellian had assumed he wouldn't be able to tell much, The Scourge went through an almost insane amount of training, not just including combat, but manipulation, espionage, and assassinations. The chances of a Scourge giving themselves up was slim to none.
"Oscar, Kellian… Vael." The figure looked up from a few of the papers that lined their makeshift desk, waving the duo to come forward and sit down.
Glancing at his father, Oscar received a nod, as they went and sat on the two empty chairs. The Scourge put his elbows on the table, cradling his chin with his hands. The sight of a grinning figure glaring at him made Oscar's break into a cold sweat. Once more looking down to avoid the gaze.
"I wonder if you two know why I am here?" The Scourge asked, their voice was deep but also seemed to have been modified, scrambling certain identifiers of their voice.
"I would assume to hunt down the rogue wizard runnin' around." Kellian replied, putting on a simple façade.
"Wizard? Ah—The charismatic." The scourge chuckled, "No… I'd consider that a waste of my precious time."
Kellian's brows came together, his expression souring slightly, quickly catching himself, he restored his stoic attitude.
"Then why pray tell, is someone like you, somewhere like here." Kellian asked.
"Now that, is a good question…" The Scourge looked directly at Kellian, reaching into his vest, The Scourge took out a small silver pocket watch; laying the pocket watch on the table the figure tapped it twice.
Fwoosh—
A gentle whistle sounded through the tent, along with a gentle breeze as if the wind had been asked politely to leave.
Seeing the pocket watch Kellian's expression went through a multitude of changes, confused, worried, even angry.
"It's of course for you..." The Scourge paused, hesitation in its actions as it seemed to look around for a second. "The Iron Shade, Magister Vaelthorn, Warkeeper of The—"
CRACK!
Suddenly a pressure descended within the tent, as if the gravity had been increased a thousand-fold. The air thickened as if it had been replaced by wet concrete, Oscar felt as if he was drowning on land like a beached fish.
"You shouldn't have come." Kellian spoke with authority, his voice as cold as the frosted peaks of the north. Oscar looked at his father confused, Kellian, turned to meet his sons' gaze, raising his hand,
SNAP
Kellian snapped his fingers together.
Oscar's eyes closed, his breathing became steady, falling into a deep sleep.
"Hahaha!" The Scourge stood up, as soon as he did so the chair that he had been sitting on was instantly crushed till it was nothing but sawdust. "I've always wanted to experience this!"
The Scourge cried out in joy, his body seemed to tremble with excitement at the thought of engaging Kellian in combat.
"You know your name is whispered the same way folktales are around campfires. I never understood, why do they hold you in such high regard even after you turned tail and ran?" The Scourge spoke, his voice reminiscent of a raging thunderstorm; his anger nearly emanating from every part of his body.
"You would be better off not finding out. Swear an oath and I will let you go." Kellian said, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his posture much more casual.
Suddenly, the trembling of his body, the anger that seemed to be brewing like a violent storm, all disappeared.
"Hahahaha!" The Scourge waved his hand as two stools appeared where the previous ones had been destroyed. A small table appeared where the old one once stood, a clear glass bottle filled to the brim with an amber liquid appearing on top of it. Two crystal glasses on either side.
"Come sit, Magister Vaelthorn!" The Scourge called, already having taken his own seat.
Kellian frowned but took his seat at the table. Genuinely befuddled Kellian could help but ask,
"What… What do you want?"
"Hahaha! The Warkeeper is confused, I can't wait to tell the rest of this moment. However, that will have to wait." The Scourge's voice naturally settled at a whisper.
"I come on confidential business, direct orders from The Masked General."
"Him… what is it?"
Kellian let out an exasperated sigh, The situation only continued to become more and more bizarre since he and his son had stepped into the tent.
"There's talk of war, at least that's what the ones in the court are saying." The Scourge said, as he uncorked the bottle, first pouring into Kellian's cup then his own.
"So? We've gone to war at least three times in the last 8 years." Kellian replied, unbothered at the prospects of war.
"No, not a skirmish with the Barbarians, or an expedition into Tainted Lands." The Scourge said,
"This is a big one. The nations surrounding us are getting greedy, they lust for the holy lands of The Empire."
Kellian attempted to speak up, The Scourge just held up a finger before continuing,
"The Varkesh Dominion."
Kellian frowned, The Varkesh Dominion was no small kingdom, rivaling the size of The Empire's geography with an even higher population. The Tricksters of The Varkesh were not to be looked down upon.
"The Chorus Below has also been making moves recently. Nothing major, but a few merchant caravans have been kidnapped." The Scourge added.
"How are you sure it's The Chorus?" Kellian questioned.
"How else? They strung up one of the missing caravan members by her own intestines right in the center of their damn circle symbol." The Scourge sighed, mentioning the brutal death of the woman seemed to be just another type of small talk for him.
"When will the Varkesh come?"
"Not for another 5 years at least, not until The Continental Tournament between the academies." The scourge looked over to the chair where Oscar had passed out on, "Your son is about at the right age to enter. In fact… I feel the Verum on him already."
The Scourge's normally indifferent voice had a slightly higher pitch to it when he mentioned the last part, clearly slightly taken aback at the fact that the young boy had already touched Verum.
"I could take him back to the capital with me." The Scourge offered casually.
"Enough, we can discuss that later. What does any of this have to do with me?" Kellian's voice was stern, unfluctuating, and demanding an answer this time around.
"Hah, The General wants you to come back and fight for us." The Scourge finally answered directly.
"I can't. I have a family now." Kellian refused immediately, no hesitation within his voice. Turning around, Kellian picked up Oscar as he started walking towards the exit of the tent. Suddenly, he halted, looking over his shoulder.
"When do you leave for the capital?" He asked.
"A fortnight at most, my job here is complete now that I've talked with you." The Scourge paused before adding, "If you change your mind, I'm sure you remember how to contact us."
Kellian nodded,
"The boy will go with you to Lumiraeth."
With that Kellian pulled the flaps of the tent open and walked out, Oscar still sound asleep in his arms.