Into the West

Yet again another chapter for your viewing pleasure!

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~Othello’s Private Quarters, Sanc Palace~


“You think that our daring assassin is one of the Andine?” Othello asked softly.

Pacing back and forth before the fire, Kira nodded, “Yes, I do!”

“And tell me, exactly why do you think this?”

Pausing, Kira turned and looked across at his brother in disbelief, “You must be joking Othello. Have I not already given you enough reasons?”

Tilting his head, the general picked up the knife and began to fiddle with it, “Reasons, yes. Plausible ones, no.” He answered calmly as he inspected his fingernails with the blade’s delicate point.

“But the engraving on the knife-”

“Means nothing,” interrupted Othello. “Almost everyone from here to the Invervoid knows of Narsail and her death at out late father’s hand. It means nothing.”

Shaking his head, Kira began pacing again. He had gone the length of the room twice before he stopped and turned back to the seated prince with a look of triumph upon his face. “The poison!”

“What poison?” Othello asked looking up from his fingers with a slight frown.

Smirking, Kira walked back to the table, “The poison placed on the arrow that I shot them with!”

Cocking an eyebrow the general placed the knife back on the table and stood up, “The arrow you shot?”

“Yes, the arrow that I shot.”

Walking to the fire, Othello placed his hands in his pockets and smiled lightly. So that was where the arrow had come from. He had been wondering about that for a while. “So it is you I have to thank for all of that spilt blood on the wall?”
Looking over his shoulder at the now still assassin, the prince smiled suddenly, “I would not mention this to the priests. They were almost in hysterics earlier over blood being spilt on their sacred ground. They went so far as to wash the stone with blessed water after some of my men had mopped it up.”

“They should have had a dead body on their hands, not just some spilt blood. They should count themselves as lucky.”

Turning away from the fire, the general studied his brother’s face for a long moment. It was pointless he thought after a minute, Kira, like Pyriel and Lir, could mask his emotions perfectly. He would have had better luck trying to decide on the mood of the floor.

“Tell me brother dear. Why is it they should have a dead body on their hands?”

“The arrow I fired was coated in poison. A poison that included the venom from a southern desert scorpion and an Asimorroven quill-fish. It causes almost instant death.”

A small smirk appeared on Othello’s face, “Are you sure? The assassin seemed fine when they escaped us. In fact they seemed positively spry for someone, who according to you, should have been a corpse.”

“I did not mix up my arrows, if that is what you are suggesting Othello!” Kira said hotly. “All I had left were those arrows, so there is no way I used a normal one.”

Leaning back against the wall, Othello stared up at the ceiling and softly sighed, “Oh, what fun.” The day had gone from normal to crazy in a matter of moments and it looked like fate had not yet finished with them.

Closing his eyes for a moment Othello wondered how long this might last.

Glaring across at his elder brother, Kira shook his head and snarled, “How can you be so calm? We have an Andine assassin on our hands and you act as if it were a common criminal! You better then most should know exactly how dangerous those monster are!”

“They were not monsters! And yet again brother, you are jumping ahead of yourself,” Othello said sourly. “We still don’t know if it even was one of the Andine and be honest with yourself. The likelihood of it being one is so slim it’s not worth thinking about.
They are all dead or long since gone from Arisis, off to their so-called Pure Lands. The last documented sighting of one was almost seventy years ago. They are no more then bed time tales to be told to children.”

Sitting down on one of the large armchairs close to the fire, Kira placed his head in his hands. “But what about the poison! No human could survive it! Trust me on that at least Othello!
I remember reading one of your old journals and you were very clear when you pointed out that the Andine could not be killed by poison of any kind.
The most it could do was make them sick and at the worst put them in a coma until they healed, but it could not kill them.
Even the weakest members of the race could survive an entire bucket full of Asimorroven venom being pumped into their body. And you never managed to capture one of the Five! Just think what they might’ve been capable of, even in a weakened state!
It was thought that, before collapsing, they could function for hours unhindered. Even after a huge dose of scorpion and Asimorroven venom being pumped into them. And they are the deadliest poisons we have!”

“But there are no Andine left-” began Othello.

“You know that’s a lie Othello! You know that is a story that our father and the council spun after the burning of Pandis’Veel!
You saw the Mist cover the valley after Narsail was killed! You saw the inferno that killed most of our army! But you never saw a single Andine body, did you?
Only the Andine Council could control the Mist! Only the Dai-Ifrit could wielded fire as easily as a sword! Only they could have been responsible for those final happenings! And to cause them, that would have to be alive!”

A gentle knock on the door stopped Kira from continuing.

Glancing across the room with irritation singing through every inch of his body, Othello snarled, “Enter.”

Looking up from his own seat, Kira waited for the door to open but when it did not he stood up and went to it.

Behind him, he could hear his brother sit down with an aggravated sigh, for the general it had been a very long day.

Opening the door a crack Kira was met with a darkened hall and silence, just as he was closing it again a voice spoke up.

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