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"Ashes" (Kalekka, Toran Republic) His name was Leon Silverburg. People said he was one of the greatest military tacticians of his generation… or of any other for that matter. He had been involved in some fashion in every major conflict to erupt within the confines of what was now the Toran Republic, ever since he reached the age of twelve. Once he had been seen as a child prodigy, a source of pride for what was then the Scarlet Moon Empire. Then had come what came to be known as the ‘Kalekka Massacre’, and he had faded from public view. Nowadays, it was common knowledge that he had been one of the members of the Liberation Army that had fought under Lord McDohl and destroyed the corrupt Empire which had ground the region under its mighty heel. For this achievement he was accorded a measure of the accolades and admiration he had once lost… yet there were yet many people who could not forget the role he had been rumored to play at Kalekka. Even his most ardent foes however agreed that Leon Silverburg was a man to be respected… if not feared. It was said that he had been offered a high position in the new Toran government, rumors varied as to which position exactly. However, it was again common fact that he had turned the offer down for reasons he did not divulge, and had returned to seclusion in the ghostly walls of his most ignominious success. Now he sat within the charred walls of one of the few wind battered houses that had not been rendered unusable by the fires that had once ravaged the town. He sat at what seemed to be a brand new oaken table that seemed almost blasphemously out of place in the blackened room. The oak table and matching chair were the only furnishings in the room, aside from an ancient wooden bed and an even older bookshelf that crouched under the weight of its treasures like a brown dwarf trying to carry away ten times his weight in gold. A small pot was suspended over a makeshift fire in the corner, and the smoke brought a whiff of some abominable attempt at cooking towards the slightly pudgy girl that stood at the doorway to the room as if it were the entrance to some private hell. She held herself stiffly, as if she were a soldier reporting to a superior officer. She had slightly tanned skin and shoulder length black hair framed a face which could have belonged to someone younger than her 16 years. She was tall for a girl, but her fuller figure made her look adequately proportioned. In one hand she carried a small leather suitcase, and on the opposite shoulder she had slung a cloth bag with her more precious possessions. Her face initially was blank aside from a slight smile, an expression which, coupled with her huge brown eyes, made her look a tad less vapid than a dead cow. Those eyes changed however as soon as she realized the man was not looking at her. They moved over the entire room and seemed to miss nothing… and judge everything. Her name was Isabel Darayin. And she was not impressed. What a dump, she thought to herself with a mental sniff, if he wanted to wallow in his guilt, he could have done it just as well in Toran Castle. I hope to the gods he doesn’t actually live here… Then her thoughts snapped back into focus as Silverburg stood up from his seat – he appeared to have been writing something – and began to turn towards her. Quickly she smoothed her face back into its prior dazed look and returned her mind to the task at hand. She had a job to do… and a strategist to fool. Yet she was unprepared for the impact of Siverburgs gaze. They bore no malice in them those orbs, and yet they burned. Not with the fiery heat of anger nor of lust, but they burned with a colder flame, as if the thoughts and intelligence of an entire nation was being fused and forged behind the curtains of his eyes. For a moment she forgot herself, and was sure that she had been dissected, her intentions laid bare. She panicked for half an instance, then her native calm returned to her and she forced her chosen words out of her suddenly dry throat. “Your pardon sir,” she breathed airily in as thoughtless a manner as possible, “but you wouldn’t happen to be the great general Leon Silverburg would you?” She wondered if she should batter her eyelashes but then decided that would be overkill. The man continued to look at her with the same searching expression on his face. Again she felt as if her entire being were being weighed and measured, as if her lifes achievements were being counted and scrutinized. She could almost feel the speed of the mans thoughts, the preciseness of his calculations. Even unmoving he gave of the aura of having his head cocked to one side, considering her. Finally he spoke. “I am no general. I am Leon Silverburg. You would be Elorn’s daughter correct?” The ponderous weight of his voice made his question take on the air of a command. “Oh good! I didn’t get lost! Yes my papa’s name is Elorn and I must say that I’m really honored to meet you Mr. Leon!” she gushed as enthusiastically as she could. In the privacy of her own mind however she gave vent to her real thoughts: ‘I am Leeee-on Siiiil-verburg’… as if that were some title above even that of a general. The arrogance of the man! The sooner I am away from him and his haunted house the better! Silverburg ignored her outward display of enthusiasm. “Do you have a name daughter of Elorn?” His tone gave the impression of talking to a retarded mule. She bristled but did not let it show. “Oh how forgetful of me! My name’s Isabel Mr. Silverburg… but all my friends call me Belle…*giggle* I really like that nick name.” Actually she hated it. Even her Father had stopped calling her that by now… her friends had all learned much sooner that the only nickname she responded to was the one that had been meant as an insult: Sassy. She didn’t say so to Silverburg since she wanted to project as dumb and airheaded an image as possible. That had been the plan from the moment she had become convinced that her Father had been dead set on making her serve as Silverburgs apprentice. She remembered the look on his face as he had told her, the anguish etched into his very skin… she remembered everything after all. She didn’t know how her Father knew Leon, or what pull the strategist had on him that he was willing to part with his beloved daughter on no more than the other mans say – so. Sassy didn’t know and didn’t care. All she knew was she would be damned if she would let herself be used as payment for anyones debt… if Silverburg wanted an apprentice he would get one who was as intelligent as pond scum. And half as useful. That or he would send her home. Silverburg nodded as if he had confirmed some great mystery. “And you know why your father sent you here daughter of Elorn?” Inwardly she rolled her eyes. Ask my name then ignore it anyway why don’t you? Bastard. But her voice gave a different answer: “Uhm… sort of sir… I’m supposed to stay with you and listen- although I’d much rather talk but you might just get bored and stuff so- I’ll listen and you’ll bring me around and stuff and eventually I’ll be a great general like you! Then we get to go to parade’s like the one they had at Gregminster three years ago right Mr. Silverburg?” She actually let herself clap her hands this time in apparent glee. Ha! Chew on that Mr. Leee-on Siiil-verburg! Not the bargain you thought I was eh? For a moment the mans eyes flared, as if in anger. Sassy had been expecting that… gods knew she would have been half-way up the wall in his place. She wanted him to get angry, angry enough to send her back to her family and bother someone else for an apprentice. But just as she was sure she had succeeded in goading him Silverburg threw back his head and laughed. It was a laugh of pure pleasure, and it rasped out of him as if his throat had been so bereft of joy that its renewed presence gave him pain. But laugh he did for a good two minutes, laughing so hard he had to grip the table for support, before he was able to once again turn his gaze towards Sassy. In the interval Sassy’s emotions had run the gamut from incredulous-ness to alarm and finally to a tinge of fear. What was wrong with the man? That laughter had come from nowhere… had the ghosts of Kalekka finally managed to drive him insane? Surreptitiously she felt for the hidden knife in her boot with her foot… if necessary she would fight her way free. Yet the gaze Silverburg turned on her was as sane as any she had ever seen. He was smiling now, a twisting at the mouth that had more in common with a grimace than a smile. His next words were even more unexpected than the laugh: “Your Father never told you he had been a spy for the Empire did he?” Sassy blinked. She blinked again, struggling to maintain the charade in spite of the beating of the hammers that had replaced her heart. “Wha… what are you talking about?” Leon went on as if she had never interrupted. “He was one of the best they say, totally ordinary and unmemorable. A wonderful actor as well, a talent that was tested to the hilt when he was assigned to infiltrate the fledging Liberation Army. The Empire already had a man there of course, the one called Sanchez, but as an ordinary ‘soldier’ Elorn was the perfect contact between Sanchez and the Empire. He was the one who carried the word about the Rebel Base at Lenankamp. He was the one who killed my sister, Odessa.” Sassy couldn’t believe what she was hearing… Father had been a member of the liberation Army! He had served in the Empire, but he had realized its corruption and fought against it… it was true he had gotten out of it after Lady Odessa had died but that was because her death had hurt him so! He couldn’t have been a spy… he couldn’t have murdered… “You’re lying…,” she whispered all pretense of idiocy gone. “You’re lying you bastard…” Silverburg seemed not to hear her and went on in a voice as deep and implacable as the grave. “He managed to survive the battle with McDohl and simply played dead until my sister had been dumped into the stream and the others had left. He knew that he was in a precarious position: unable to return to his post as a spy within the Liberation Army for Viktor or McDohl might remember his face… and thus unable to return to the Empire since he had outlived his usefulness as a spy. His only recourse had been to pretend he was dead.A task he accomplished with help from me.” When Sassy did not speak, Silverburg approached and stared straight into her eyes. “I know you Sassy Darayin. I know of your uncanny ability of being able to recall almost everything you have witnessed. I know of your native intelligence. Your heart may deny my words but in your head you’ve already put it all together haven’t you?” And she had. The revelation forced her to her knees. It all made sense now… the constant moving from place to place. The avoidance of cities where they had friends or relatives. The constant fear lurking behind her Fathers every breath, especially the night they had heard of Lord McDohls victory. It all suddenly clicked in her head… while in her heart she wept bitter tears. Her Father… her world… all ashes. And now she knew why she could not refuse to serve Leon Silverburg. She looked up at him, with every ounce if hate in her body pouring through her misted eyes. Yet he met the stare with one of his own, a gaze that had no heat, nor glint of triumph, but that seemed to take even her hatred and turn it to his service. She dropped her gaze, her eyes burning with unshed tears. But she would not cry. She would not. Suddenly she felt a wind from behind her. Then all she could think of was how tired she felt … how weary. Her world, her hopes had been dashed in the span of a few minutes… and somehow she thought that the darkness was preferable to further thought. As she slipped into sleep she heard Leon Silverburgs voice, as if from afar: “Grieve not little one, for I have seen your place in history and it is not small. You will indeed prove worthy to our task. For now, you must sleep.” She heard, and she did. Leon kept his gaze on the slumped form of his apprentice, scarcely glancing at the boy who floated on air behind her. “Sleep well child.” The boy floated around them, a living satellite. His hairless head gleamed in the dim light, and he wore a long robe that almost hid the fact that he was missing his two legs. “Did you really have to make her cry like that Lord Leon?” Leon Silverburg stood silent for a moment. Then he scooped Sassy up into his arms and gently lifted her to his chest. He did not answer the boys question as he lay the girl on the bed. “Batin, is everything prepared for our journey tomorrow?” Batin bowed, and the circlet on his head seemed to glow. “I can teleport you to the appointed place any time you wish. I’ve been practicing you know,” he said with a proud smile. The older man favored him with a small smile. He took a moment to look at the girl before him. Sassy… an apt name for her. He found that he actually hoped she survived the coming storms. Strange… I’d have thought myself to be long past such sentimentality. Leon's smile grew wider. If he could surprise even himself, then things looked well indeed. With that thought in mind, he waved Batin to begin the incantation. His final words were carried by the wind as his form faded into intangibility… “It begins…”
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