The Cats out of the Bag

Oakvale has seen better days. Nestled north of Verde and east of the mountain range, it is the nothernmost settlement that any are aware of. Until months ago, it didn't classify as an active settlement at all due to goblinoid occupation. The days since have been stressful to the surviving citizens and the liberators alike. Nuya Dwin'annia, Lord Commander of the Order of the White Flame, has a dozen faithful stationed in the village ever since he helped drive back the hobgoblins inside of it. Atlas has been forced into daily training exercises at such a young age with the former elf dragonslayer. He has returned to Elara more than once scuffed up within an inch of his life. Yet Nuya and Elara are not on speaking terms. Order come from another, Frederick, an Order of the Sun monk who has some history with Nuya. One oppressive state for another. The citizens have freedom but the village is recovering. Many are broken physically and emotionally. Those that are not are pressed to their limits. For all the desire to see the world, Cassandre and Elara seem trapped there with an Olympian level task ahead of them to restore security.
The winds of fate shift one night with a surprise visit from a black cat. Easily avoiding the guards, Notte pads through to the hearth where Cassanre and Elara would be at during the end of a long day. "Your father looks pissed," Notte says, hopping up on a table and taking a seat, "I haven't seen him do anything but scowl since I arrived." Which was only this morning.
Since the battle that had taken place in Oakvale, the efforts to bring back some sort of normalcy has been a struggle. The hobgoblins are gone, but what they left in their wake are the shattered lives of simple people trying to make a life for themselves within the harsh northern lands of Arhor’ha.
Elara sits by the hearth within one of the buildings, warming her hands as the sun sets behind the horizon, leaving its last rays clinging to the soft clouds that drift slowly across the sky. Her eyes watch the flames within the fireplace flicker. As each little ember kicks off from the burning wood and dances upwards, she reflects on the strange journey she has been on thus far. Her eyes shift to look over to her friend Cassandre who joins her by the fire. Elara’s lips part as if to say something, but she quickly jumps back into her chair, almost stumbling off it in the process. “N-Notte…” She places her hand on her chest, letting out a sigh. “I would think its partly due to it being his personality, the other reason is that he has not spoken to me since the battle. He’s a Commander that never drops his role… not even for his family.” She trails off in momentarily thought before standing up to boop the black cat on his forehead. “We’ve been worried about you.” She smiles warmly before turning to look back at Cassandre. “Presenting the return of Lord High Lord Notte.” She chuckles some, pushing away the pain that still remains from all the recent events of their journey.
The black cat wiggles its whiskers at the booping. Purr. No purr. Lords don't purr. He takes a dignified stance of licking his paw and cleaning just over one of those obsidian dark ears. "I have had words with the previous Lord High Lord and for the sake of my already 'distracted'," he air quotes distracted with his paws, "subjects, I have made my title easier to say. Lord Notte." The cat bows on the table. He has been practicing.
"Did you know the Tabaxi of Arhor'ha worship myself and Agmigi by the exact title?" he gets a little gossipy. "I had to see the state of the lands with my own eyes and title, not by the grace of what someone else was telling me. Not a way to lead, when being manipulated such." Blue eyes dart to a scritching on wood. Mouse? No. His ears tilt to the sound before tilting back to Elara. "If your father is always like that, then that is a relief," Notte looks to Elara as his tail flicks, "It is better than the alternative I had conjured up: Something was wrong. No, he is just always like that. Better."
There is a pause and a degree of empathy for Elara's situation if that is the case, "Condolences for you, Lady Elara. All the same this looks as if its taken its toll." He looks around, "I don't see Gabriel. Did he never return back to you?" Not to mention Brindle and Safina. One having disappeared after an explosive finale at the orchards and another quietly follow his own path.
As the fire crackles next to her, Cassandra listens to their conversation. So many people who have left their group... So many people she now can't protect. "I can see you're afraid Elara, it'll be ok. I don't fully understand your relationship with your father, but I'm here, and Lord Notte is here. It'll be ok." Looking around the room she takes note of who is still with them. "... However, I don't see Atlas, which is always a little concerning."
Elara returns to her chair, folding her hands together to place them on her lap. “Lord Notte.” She says in his direction with a voice of understanding and a nod to the official title in which he now goes by. “I would not refer to it as “Better”. She frowns and shuffles in her chair but her attention shifts to Cassandre as she speaks. “I am not afraid of my father but rather, of the things he has not told me.” Her words linger with a drowning sense of fear from her voice. “Atlas…. Is being trained. Like all things, another aspect of my life he wishes to control I suppose but I will admit that I don’t know what I am doing with Atlas or what any of that means.” She laughs slightly. “Dragons do not come with a manual.”
"Especially soul eating ones..." Cass states quietly, remembering his delight at eating soul stones. "From what you've told me, he's kept you from Celestian, right? Not knowing something can be unnerving, he may have held things back because he thought it would protect you. Now that he's here... if the lack of knowledge is protecting you, do you really want to know what it is?" She pauses, thinking on her next words. "Love.... love can make you make less than ideal decisions sometimes. He came all this way.." Her mind travels, thinking of the distance they came for Troy, for his village.
Elara’s eyes narrow at her statement towards Atlas and souls. “Y-yeah… that is another thing lingering without answers…” The fire crackles and shifts as burnt wood gives way and crumbles, tossing specks of ash to drift up through the chimney. “My Father is here because he can’t stand not being in control.” She speaks sharply following Cassandre’s words. There is more tone of frustration peeking out from behind a shy voice. Her voice fades to something more sober as she watches her close friend trail off and fade into her own personal thought. “I’m sorry..” Elara pushes the wood around with the iron rod beside the fireplace, poking at the orange and blue embers that sit on a soft bedding of ash. “It’s been a thorn in my side since the white flames arrived here to Oakvale. I tried hard to escape it and yet here it is and with no explanation. I don’t mean to be such a bother Cass. I know things have been equally hard on you as well, I never asked how you were doing.” She looks over to Cass.
Cass pauses to think of what they've been through, all the fighting, saving Troy's village... A small tears wells in her eye as she looks to Elara. "I did it... We were going to make this a better place for his family, for everyone here..." Looking around at the building they relax in. A villager walks by the window, downtrodden and recovering from the fight. "It's always difficult when a dream you had hits reality. When do you accept that a dream you always had isn't what you want anymore? Or that the dream you had with someone else now feels hollow without them?"
Elara returns to her chair to face Cass. “You set out to help save this village for Troy, and even though he’s gone, that ideal you both wanted is being achieved. Its been slow going and not easy but the village is in a better place than it was. It will get better tomorrow, the next day, a year from now. I know it’s not the same but… you’re never truly without him. You carry his memory in your heart, and I think he is so very proud of you. I certainly am.” She smiles brightly. “It’s okay to move on from here and discover a new calling or a new dream.” Elara lowers her head to reach up and hold tightly to the silver pendant that hangs around her neck with the galaxy swirling within the deep blue hues. “There wouldn’t be a sky full of stars if we were meant to wish on just one.”
A smile slowly creeps across Cass's face, slight, but sincere. "A new dream, or a new destiny... I found a sort of peace here by being able to help. I would like to help you find your peace. And help Atlas grow into the amazing creature I know he'll become." She stops, deciding her next move. "You need to talk to your dad. I know things are rough, but you need to be strong. If you don't, there will always be a part of you that's held back." She extends her hand out to touch Elara's, "I know it will be difficult, but you don't have to do it alone. I'll be by your side.. you can borrow some of my strength."
Elara sits in silence for a moment thinking over Cass’s word. “Your peace is… my peace?” Her face falls to a frown thinking about what exactly that is. “I am not sure my peace is achievable in this life. Although, I’d rather die trying than nothing at all. I know I need to speak to my father. That’s probably the first start given he has kept many secrets over these years.” Elara shuffles her feet. “To speak to the commander of the White Flame? That needs all the strength I can get.” She laughs a little and then a wave of panic runs through her like a jolt of electricity. “Should it be now?” Her eyes look towards Cass. “I mean, right now?”
Notte has been watching with the sort of 'I am paying attention, but I am not paying attention' face that a cat provides. He sits tall on the table, a regal tail flick as his eyes wander from woman to woman. A pause is given to lick a paw and clean his face. It is important to keep that sleek black fur majestically clean.
"If you do," Notte offers, "can you ask him where he was escorting Gabriel?" A pause of dead air as he flicks his tail, "I had assumed it was back to you. A Lord must keep secrets when necessary, but not among the health and wellfare of dear friends." There is a shiver as he remembers a moment in the past, "Even ones that accidentally blow you up." As close to forgiveness as one can get from a cat.
There's a moment of silence as what Notte says hits Cass. "Where he took Gabriel? I was under the impression he wanted to explore his own thing, not that he was being... Escorted." She allows her mind to assess the battle and who they saw fight... No Gabriel. "Elara, are there places your father would take someone? I'm worried if they traveled together... Where is he now?" A tone of panic hits the back of her throat.
Elara jumps from her chair, eyes wide. “I thought the same as well Cass. We were told he went off to do his own thing. I would have no idea where or why my father would be escorting Gabriel. But like i've said, he's not one to explain his reasoning to me and we have not spoken. Why.......” Letting out a sigh, She turns to look at Notte. “Did you see him on your way here? My father that is? He should be with Atlas still…”
"I did," Notte responds with a flick of his majestic black tail. "It sounded like he was training somebody from a distance near where the elf soldiers are stationed. Another elf was running drills on, I assume, the militia here." The cat lifts a paw, "Not he, per say, but his men escorting Gabriel. Militant elves in common clothes. Narrows down the list if they are heading north to the only occupied village in that direction." A horrible thought crosses his mind, "Do you think Gabriel got attacked along the way? The group seemed quite capable, but I did smell blood on the wind. If one of them was already hurt, it would draw in more predators."
Worry starts to settle on Cass' brow. "We need to talk to your dad. Now. I know Gabe wanted to go on his own, but if he got hurt because I wasn't there..." Panic sets in, Troy's body, dead on the ground all because she wasn't there... "Notte, will you join us?"
"I will," Notte says proudly, "even in this form I am a formidable warrior. I could stand toe to toe with that elf for hours sparring if need be." Not true, but confidence is there.
Blue eyes shift between Cass and Notte. “We are not sparring my father.” She glares towards the black cat before sliding her arms through the sleeves of her light teal topcoat. “Its alright Cass, we’ll figure it out I am sure.” She smiles warmly to ease her friends panic. Elara stands at the door, taking in a sharp breath of cold air before grabbing her staff, exhaling and stepping outside. “Let’s get this over with…” She says faintly.
The barracks consist of several buildings with white flame soldiers coming and going on whatever missions are assigned. It makes Elara uncomfortable to be amongst them once more after leaving as abruptly as she did. The eyes of the soldiers show discourse as Elara leads her way with Cass and Notte in tow. Between the barracks lay open land where most training occurs. There in the distance stands Elara’s Father, Nuya Dwin’annia, Commander of the White Flames. She stops walking, looking back to Cass with worried eyes and turning once more to walk up to Nuya. With another momentary pause she speaks.
“Father.”
Notte's ears flatten back against his head when he hears he won't be fighting another formidable warrior in battle. Even a mock battle would kindle his spirits. Big cat spirit, little cat body.
The journey to the barracks has a sense of cold air. Every step goes from the warmth of that hearth to the sterile precision of an elvish military force. It is a force that hunted dragons. It is a force that brings law to the lawless wastes. "Their Law" that is as absolute and uncompromising as a flame itself.
And it is just as destructive.
Nuya stands as a pillar of this example. Commander and Lord both, he demands nothing short of perfection from his troops. They drill without tire or complaint. The same can't be said against the militia. They line one side of the barracks in stretchers moaning in pain from the rough, brutal training regimen. Even Atlas is among the injured. The young dragon is kept separate with a personal healer tending to his wounds whereas the other healer is responsible for the entire mass of the volunteer defenders of the town. The ire between the divide is as thick as a sheet of ice.
Ice and Fire. Like Nuya, who stands there like a shepherd over a flock. Thick red hair that shows the genetics between him and his daughter. But his eyes lack Elara's compassion. "Lord Commander Dwin'annia," he corrects as his arms go behind to the small of his back. "This is not a dinner arrangement, Specialist Dwin'annia, mind your acting officer." He is always like this. Even Notte steps back without thinking about it, slinking more into Cassandre's shadow.
“Have you no regard of your own flesh and blood?” She shouts, enough to make soldiers walking in close proximity to turn their heads or quickly find a new path to walk, mostly in an opposite direction.
You can do this, you can do this Elara, you can do this…
“If you cannot find the graces to speak to me, I will find them then on behalf of you. I can no longer stand here oblivious to your intentions and I demand some form of explanation.” She takes a step forward. “Atlas, your past, and …. Celestian.” She lingers on those words trying desperately to read any form of reaction from the back of her father. “And the gnomish boy in which your army has been seen escorting elsewhere.” Her eyes narrow and a wind creeps in, pushing her bangs across her face.
Cassandre stands at attention in the presence of Lord Commander Dwin'annia. His stance is something very familiar to her from her militiant days. Looking over at the army, the situation becomes clear to her without emotional clouding. She walks up behind Elara and places her hand on her shoulder. "We may need to move this conversation into a more private location." She prepares for a glare from Elara, understanding that this is not what she will want to hear. A deep intake of air fills her chest "Your father is these men's Commander, he must keep subjectivity in front of them." She looks to the Commander, standing at attention "Lord Commander Dwin'annia, may we request your audience in the tavern to continue this conversation? It is of much import."
The look on Nuyas face is one of stone. Always stone. He stands there unfaultering in the face of his daughter's emotional explosion. 'Have you no regard for your own flesh and blood?' is a phrase that resonates with the men and women fighting to keep their lands safe. Everyone needs a reason to fight. That spark is vital to push past this training.

The tension is thick as Nuya stares at Elara. They are on center stage and every soldier an audience member. When Cassandre speaks, the Lord Commander replies without leaving his gaze.

"We will discuss the matter of your insubordination in my quarters," Nuya says. There is a sort of fire in his voice Elara isn't used to. Always cold and distant. It's subtle, but it's there. Anger. The man turns to one of the elves. A familiar face from outside of the Forges. He nods to Nuya before the Lord Commander goes to a building next to the barracks. Not quite a tavern, but as Elara highlights, the man favors control. Location is one such factors.

As the group files into the building it is known for its lack of furnishings. A table. Chairs. "If you are going to attack the heart of your enemy, do it in public," Nuya says, standing at the table. "The time to assume control of a Unit of your own troops is still open to you. There will be a time when you need them." A hand rests on a the table. He taps it. "And a time for answers. Ask." It feels like a trap.
A familiar hand rests on Elara’s shoulder and her blue eyes quickly shift to see Cassandre. Her mannerisms and tone of her voice have changed to something more militant as Elara listens to her speak then shifting back to stare towards her father Nuya in front of curious eyes of soldiers. “Lead the way.” She says almost in a mumble as the undertone of anger shocks her soul. Emotion? From him?
Before entering the quarters, Elara mumbles to Cassandre in passing. “Thank you.” Before filing inside the quarters to stand across the table from her father.
“Is it really that hard for you to step away from your role as commander, just once? I am not standing her before you as one of your soldiers, I am here as your daughter and I am here to try and find some form of answer to well ---” Her confidence in speaking slowly starts to crumble as she realizes she’s not as prepared as she wanted to be. She inhales then lets out a nervous sigh. “Atlas.” She finally says. “We met Solsera.” Her eyes shift up to meet Nuya’s with a subtle of look of Yes, I know your history. “Before the White Flames, you killed dragons, so why now are you working so hard to train Atlas? Start here, I want to start here.” Nuya's red hair remains as still as a river of fire after the deserts winds have died down. He faces Elara. Family matters. His eyes slide to Cassandre and to the small black cat that follows them around. "Elara," he says, voice addressing her not as a soldier but as a person, "consider what a father would say to a daughter who ran away from home, disobeyed every order, and thrust herself into a situation he can neither protect or prepare her for. You don't need to. You have Atlas now and imagine if he throws himself at Elo, against your wishes, into the jaws of destruction. What words would you have?"
There is a tap on the table. Stronger. Anger. "I train Atlas because the fight between him and Elo is inevitable," he says, that control coming out once more, "As I have trained you, unsuccessfully, to avert prophecy all that is left in the stratagem is create the situation where Atlas is favored in the conflict. That requires work." A tap on the table. Training. Its like a ringing in the ears when someone strikes you in the head so hard that you are certain you will die there on the spot, or a punch in the stomach by the strongest fighter across Arhor’ha. It is that moment of disconnect that leaves Elara wide eyed and staring through a void past her father as he calls her by her name and acknowledges that she is his daughter. Her head tilts down to stare at the wood grain of the table, listening with every tap of his finger as he speaks. Long red hair that closely matches Nuya’s tumbles over one of her shoulders and brings her eyes under a shroud of shadow. That ringing tone in her head begins to sizzle away like pouring water over open flame and her mouth twitches trying to find words to say in reply. “The situation…” She mutters those words behind gritting teeth. “The Situation?” She slams her hands down on the table still looking down behind bangs of red hair. “The situation that NOBODY will tell me what exactly it is!?” Elara bursts out with a voice of complete and utter pain held in her heart and the frustrations of everything around her collapsing in on itself like a blackhole.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

Tears hit against the wood as her words linger through the quarters. “Maybe If I knew, then things would have been different, but I don’t know! I don’t know anything and everyone around me feels the need to dictate what I should or should not know!” Tear soaked eyes look between strands of red hair across the table towards her father. “And you… you knew about Celestian this entire time, didn’t you? You didn’t want me to find him because he’s the one that gave me Atlas isn’t it? ISNT IT FATHER!?” "Yes and No," Nuya says with the discipline of a commander who has had to walk out to scores of men and tell them to die proudly for Elohim. Tempered by years of the fires of war to the point where the nerves have singed off and only the soldier remains. The armor fused to his heart like elvish steel, beautifully elegant and hard.
"You have been taught the value of separating information in a need to know basis. Officers have information that soldiers don't. Intelligence officers have information that field officers don't. You weren't told for precisely the same reason: Knowing would jeopardize the stratagem. Think, Elara, what happens when you find a book with an interesting title?" There is a jab of hot iron in his words. The book. The journal that started it all. "Would you be able to put it down? Would you be able to stop reading it? No, you wouldn't. This isn't conjecture or judgement, this is fact. Facts build strategem, not well wished intent. You don't win wars on intent, you lose them. A successful warrior wins first, then goes to war. A failed one goes to war, hoping to win."
There is a pause in his lecture as he looks to Cassandre. A fellow military person. A holder of a sacred blade. It is as if he isn't talking to Elara. He is talking to Cassandre. That there is a message he will never, and could never, reach to his family. Its a burden Elara's friends and guardians must share now. Its the only strategem left.
"Knowing this path and exposing you to this information is no different than drawing the sword and running it through you with my own hand. That is not your choice, daughter, it is mine, and I do not regret the choices I made. Nor do I wholly condemn you for yours. Celestian gave you Atlas. Against all our plans. Half of the world burned in vain, daughter, so you'll have to excuse that not telling one lovestruck girl about her destiny is not among the highest of our sins." Her eyes never leave those of her fathers. The anger growing as he continues to strategically place words in such a way that it strikes Elara in the chest with pain and anger. She stands in silence, as he carries on speaking about the situation in such a crisp militant way.
“And that is my fault!?” She shouts once more. “I left Elohim because I wanted to see the rest of this world. I wanted to make decisions on my own terms, not by others. Not by you.” She stands up tall with wet cheeks from tears that roll down from them. “The Star Wanderer himself told me that I have seen him and I have done this journey many times before. Many, many times. I don’t understand what any of this means and a part of me is screaming out to find that answer even if it will destroy me. If I know, if I have the slightest understanding of this prophecy, of Celestian, of Atlas, then maybe there is something I can do this time. Maybe there is something I can do different and end this. You can call me lovestruck, you can call me stubborn, arrogant, oblivious, but there is something beyond both of our understanding about this entire thing. I need to see him. I need to be with him. I have to.” "Then start taking accountability," Nuya says sharply, "It is your fault. The burden of choice is that you must live with those decisions. You will hurt people you care about. You will BE hurt by people you care about. And then you will have to live with yourself afterwards, whether you 'understand' it or not." A strong tap on the table, threatening to puncture through the wood with a single, deft strike. "And that is all I will ever speak on this topic to you. You are not entitled to anything I know, and you have done nothing to show me you are capable of doing anything but complaining with this information. So if there isn't anything else to speak of, I have men to train and a battle to prepare for." Cassandre listens, the Commander's words are harsh, but she can understand the logic behind it. Looking to Elara, it pains her to see the struggle she is on. The pain from this being maybe the most open her father has been to her, and yet still so shut off. She steps forward, focusing on the Commander, but offering her body as a shield for Elara from the pain. "Please, Lord Commander, these turn of events have caught us both unaware. There have been missteps, but you appear to know of what is to come, what we can expect. I will stand by your daughters side and by Atlas until my last breath. The more information I have, the better I can protect them. Can you inform us of anything? Or of our previous Commerade Gabriel?" "Gabriel," Lord Command Nuya asks, his fiery gaze that was once leveled at his daughter shifts to Alexa and seems to cool behind the glassy pane of his eyes, "the gnomish boy? What of him?" "We were informed that he was escorted by your soldiers, however I do not see him with you. Do you happen to know where he has gone?" There is a pause as Nuya's eyes bore past Cassandre's. He thinks. "The soldiers here have only one patrol, to the caves to the west from where we arrived. I have spared no man power to patrol or escort anyone in recent days."
Notte, who has been a quiet cat, speaks up at this point, "I am no liar, I saw your men with my own eyes!"
Nuya looks for the source of the voice. Left. Right. Down. A black tail flicking cat. "You saw my men?"
"Yes," Notte says, tail standing on end. Hiss.
"Describe my men," Nuya says as his eyes squint.
"They were elves. Full blooded ones. And no, not the druidic circle ones. From a civilization. They wore no markings on their uniform, but handled themselves like soldiers, warriors. Smelled like them. Undeniably your men. Four to escort a gnome back here," Notte says as if his eyes play a mental game of chess with the Lord Command. Check, Lord Command. Check.
"You are mistaken," Nuya responds as his stern eyes half-lid in arrogant annoyance. "I have troop reports to prove it, not that I am going to show them to you. What you have described isn't White Flame movement. Its Xan'theril movement. Also full elves, some as deep as eldarin blooded from the fey itself. Not unlike Elohimian elves." There is a tap on the table once more as his gaze shifts to Cassandre, "If they are this far north, they are using a detainment facility in the middle of nowhere. Your friend has angered some powerful enemies. Enemies that happen to be our allies in this draconic conflict." Elara steps to the side of Cassandre. "Last he was with us, he left with the intentions to travel on his own. I cant imagine what he would have gotten himself into, to be placed in such a camp." Her words are soft and half present as her frustrations have clearly gotten the best of her in this moment.
She leans down and picks up Notte, placing him on her shoulder. She pats him on the head to diffuse his anger towards Nuya as well and then looks to Cassandre. "...Do you think it has something to do with that devil he was enamoured with? Gig?" 'Oh God' Cass quietly mutters 'I know he seemed to idolize him, but would he really be so naive as to try to get closer with that devil?'