From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
When the sun refused to rise, and one's body clock was left to make things up for itself, one's sleeping patterns went to shit.
How long had he been awake for now? Thirty hours? Forty?
He was wired, annoyingly so. He couldn't settle, couldn't stop twitching, shifting. He was driving himself insane, his thoughts running on a neverending loop.
At least he had Kia. Sharing a room with her was a blessing. He wondered if he would be as restless if they were in the cottage together, just them, no Academy or Grounders or locals to divert their attention away from each other.
It didn't matter. It was another useless train of thought to send him insane with its inane connotations.
He wandered the halls, eventually settling in a larger classroom that appeared to be mostly empty. It was just another place to be, to exist, to dwell on his great many thoughts, itching to put something into action, yet utterly unable to.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
The improvised bar in a corner of the Academy had been given set opening hours. From 'when Korbin felt like opening' until 'whenever he got tired of people and fucked off to somewhere else'. During his absence the chef from the Kraai - the only remaining staff after the new owner's cleanse - sat glaring at anyone who dared to approach the barrels. He made quite the impact, as he spent his time sharpening an ever present meat cleaver to a wicked edge.
Thanks to Noah, Korbin had another task to tend to, one that did not require talking to people. He made frequent rounds through the building and ensured that the fires were kept lit and well-supplied, and by his third pass even the most stubborn of old housewives had learned to keep their pots and pans and knitting away from his hearth. For some reason, they all looked nervous when he handled the fire. As if he might suddenly turn it on them.
Korbin entered the classroom without knocking, and headed straight for the fireplace without looking around. It was not until he was knealing by the hearth with a piece of wood in his hand that he realized that the room was not in fact empty. The raven froze in mid motion, and slowly turned his head towards the figure that loomed at the corner of his eye.
When he realized who it was, he tensed involuntarily, shoulders coming up before he could stop himself. Wary, uneasy. Not afraid, no, not exactly, but... the memory of their last encounter was too vivid.
A curious quirk of his eyebrow occurred when the boy entered the room, and tended to the flames in the hearth. He sat quietly, letting him work, pleased more than anything else that he was around to do any work at all.
He had agreed to live, and he was living - that was all Chulane had asked of him, with the hope that he would find further purpose for his life to go on.
Guilt and relief at the whole issue that was their last meeting still warred within him. He hated that he had needed to be so cruel, so gruelling to the boy, but he was relieved it had worked.
He kept trying to justify it, to console himself that he had done a shitty thing for the right reasons, and had achieved an excellent result for his perseverance. But he still felt like shit.
All the more so when Korbin turned, saw him, and flinched.
He raised his hand slightly in a small wave to the boy. "Heya Korbs," he said softly, nodding to support the greeting. "How ya doing?" His tone was light, friendly, a return to the voice that would normally send the boy running, or scowling, or otherwise avoiding him.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
Back to normal, eh? Were they just going to pretend that none of that night had ever happened? Fine. Korbin could do that. It was far better than having to talk about it, think of it or having to relate to how he had been seen at his absolute lowest. It could have made for a sense of intimacy, some bond of understanding, and maybe it would have if Korbin had asked for the help or had any positive feelings for Chulane. But now... it was only frustrating. Humiliating. A weak spot vulnerable to more bullying, and he absolutely did not trust the man not to make use of it.
Korbin turned back to the work and stacked more logs on the fire, working with the competent ease of one who had done this for a lifetime. "Fine. Still breathing."
It really was all anyone should expect of him. Living, breathing, moving around. And if he was numb on the inside, if he couldn't sleep and barely ate, if he still drowned himself in either booze or work so he wouldn't have to think... what of it?
Wiping soot stained hands on trousers that had seen better days, the raven stood up and turned towards Chulane. Threw a glance around the room, searching for... what? He didn't know. A reason to stay? An excuse to leave?
"Are you guys set with wood?" he eventually asked, gesturing lamely to the stack by the hearth. He didn't enter private rooms unless asked to help. The occupants needed something to do anyway.
He honestly didn't know if attempting to act normal was the best way to go, but then, normal didn't exist anymore anyway. So much had changed in both of their lives - whatever normal they had before (the one where Korbin pretended Chuy didn't exist and Chuy simply tried to keep existing in a strange, new world) had changed once Korbin held a place in the government, and then again when his sister had died. And now again, since that gruelling night, it was different again. How did they progress from here? What did they do?
What could they do, except what Chulane himself had preached that night? Live, and keep on living.
"Glad to hear it," he commented with a small nod, his words genuine. It wasn't as if Korbin's whereabouts were a secret - the Academy was only so big, and the people of Snowcloak revered the Kraai as a place of gathering, so Chulane knew well that the boy had access to alcohol and as probably still using it to numb the otherwise shitty existence that was grief and depression. He knew that night that he would not cure the boy of all his grievances, but at least he had helped to convince the boy to live, to give himself a chance to heal the rest later.
As Korbin turned and looked about, and then aired his question, Chuy waved a hand to indicate they were indeed fine with their supply. "We're all set," he confirmed, before deftly moving another chair around with his foot, and nudging it out. "Have a seat, if you want." He offered, shrugging slightly. He'd endeavour to never force his company on the boy again, particularly after last time. But he wanted to prove that he could be trusted, though he was still rather clueless as to how to do that.
"I'd love to hear your plans for the Kraai, if you have a moment." He was legitimately curious, and was also keen to keep helping them in whatever capacity he could, if the boy would have him.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
No firewood then. That should have been the bed of this conversation, but Korbin hesitated when the chair was pushed out. He studied Chulane from under the line of jaggedly cut hair, wary of more reaching, of further probing and prodding of his mental state. But the Kraai seemed innocent enough of a subject. Korbin recalled too that the man had been made an official by Morgan. Ironic, how the woman removed one outlander and put another in power. It was almost like she didn't have faith in her own people.
Slowly, as if this might be some kind of trap, Korbin sat down. Shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say.
"Don't have many," he replied quietly, "aside from getting it back to my si- to Weaver's standards." He staggered on her name, and it was clear that even saying it hurt like hell. "New people, new delivery chain... Neron asked for a job, which is... kind of bizarre."
If anyone had suggested at the start of the season that he would consider hiring the fucking Hailstorm to help run the bar he hated, Korbin would have laughed himself silly. But today there was nothing humorous about it, and he only had this vague feeling that the whole world was off kilter. Askew, misaligned, entirely wrong in so many subtle ways.
"Might have to change the name too... I want to break off from her old business partner."
Shrugging, Korbin settled back, unsure if there was more to say. It would take work to make it happen, and there might be trouble before everything was sorted out, but... He didn't exactly have other plans. And people were keen on telling him how much Weaver would have wanted him to run the place.
Chulane still felt weird, holding a position of 'power' - Chief of Agriculture. What weight did that carry? Food production and supply, mostly - outside of his plans for developing a more efficient way to farm the ningoes of the region, and perhaps expanding to see just how fertile they could make the soil and begin growing their own crops so they were less reliant on imported goods, Chulane was hardly a person to throw his power around in the faces of the locals. He did not see himself as any different to them - he was simply human, like everyone else, with a background that lent itself the know-how to potentially implement something rather exciting.
Well, exciting for a farm boy, anyway.
"Sounds as good as any plans," he offered with a one-sided shrug, overlooking the trip up the boy made at his sister's name - it was to be expected. But inside, kept hidden, he was so happy to hear Korbin say her name, to her him talk of her, of her bar - to just hear him talk, person-to-person, about future plans of all things. He barked a soft laugh at the idea of Neron asking for a job - bit of a step down from being Warden, but then, a bit of a step up from whatever he currently was. "I suspect any kind of work would serve as an improvement to his current predicament."
He raised his brow at the notion to change the name of the bar - but then, he didn't know the full history of the place too. He vaguely recalled amongst Korbin's ramblings from that night about how Weaver sold secrets, and he wondered if the implications of that statement linked in with this supposed business partner.
"Well, I'm hoping come Flowerbirth to begin establishing a way to farm the local ningo population. From there, I am keen to expand into improving the soil fertility and seeing what will grow, and what we can store come Deepfrost next year. Happy to ensure the Kraai - or whatever it becomes - has what it needs in terms of food, at least." He paused, knowing that he spoke far too much, but not knowing how to say what needed to be said in fewer words as well.
"Also happy to help out with whatever is needed to get the place back up to standard, too." he had done what he could to keep things ticking along at the place after Weaver had died, and Korbin had gone off the radar for a time. But he was stretched too thin, working between Lenny's errands, becoming something of a local butcher for those wanting luxere or ningo slaughtered but lacking the desire to swing the axe, wood chopping and stacking, and he had seemingly become a food deliverer amongst it all as well.
"So what did the old business partner do to stir your ire?"
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
Korbin gave the other man a look, half confused, half amused. Chulane sure seemed enthusiastic about work not a sentiment Korbin shared, no matter the plans he was forming.
"Chulane... you are aware that Halo never thaws, right? The only things that grow here are raised by magic. The temperature never rise above freezing, and the snow never melts. There is no soil to improve on." It's why Halo was so desolate, why the Tundra was so dangerous and the cannibals had come to exist. Whatever the luxere were able to scrape away of lichen and bark from the frozen forests around the base of the Fangs was not fit for humans to eat, and between the roaming predators and the cold, there just wasn't enough food to go around for everyone.
The thought was probably good, and maybe it could be done in tandem with Loren's idea of greenhouses, but it remained a pipe dream for now.
He hummed something unintelligible about Neron and his predicament, and frowned slightly at the question about Sunjata. Korbin had a vague recollection of spilling the secret of Weaver's dealings, and regretted ever opening his mouth.
"He is an official of Torchline, for one. Put a dagger to my throat the first time we ever met, just for startling him, for another. He's an arrogant asshole without a care for who gets affected by his dealings, and - " he hesitated, but having already told Chuy about this, pressed on anyway "- he used Weaver for information on Halo. Anyone visiting the bar. The deal was supplies for secrets, and that's how Weaver got hold of so much good alcohol. It's all from Torchline and the Hollowed Ground, where the guy has another bar."
Korbin frowned down at his hands, fingers tapping restlessly against the armrests.
He chuckled at the boy's comments, glad he could draw out some of that old Korbin criticism - it felt like old times, when he was helping out with the healer's college, and Korbin was fussing over his clumsiness (and general distractedness due to a certain other attendee). "I'm well aware. But with my plans for the ningo farm, there's going to be a lot of ningo shit, and well, soil is in fact made up in large parts of shit. All things going the way I hope, we'll be manufacturing our own soil. I have no doubt I'll need magical help as well, but hey, a boy can dream."
He hoped he made sense, hoped he could convince Korbin that his idea was a sound one, if needing more refinement - and who better than a Natural-born Halovian to give it?
He found himself caring far too much what Korbin thought.
A small frown tugged his brows back down as Korbin kept talking, his expression thoughtful, serious, now that the boy spoke of a more sober topic. "Is there something wrong with Torchline that being an official of the place is viewed negatively?" Or was it that it was this man who held a position of power, this particular person who seemed to irk Korbin. "Hmm," he simply hummed, leaning back in his chair to give the words some more thought. He hadn't shared that information with anyone - hadn't shared much of that night with anyone but Korbin, even only telling Kia that he had done what he could to help the boy and that it was now up to Korbin to do the rest.
It wasn't his story to tell, and so he would keep it secret, unless told otherwise.
"Weaver didn't seem like one to let herself be used so easily." He softly commented, idly wondering if she was being used at all - surely she was a willing participant, and surely she protected the people of Halo with the information she allowed to pass to this business partner. Or perhaps Chuy was clutching at a rose-hued memories of Weaver.
"Perhaps you could look at renegotiating, before severing ties completely." He shrugged, ever the pacifist.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
"Loren talked about ideas for greenhouses, at one point," Korbin commented, and propped his chin on an upraised palm. "Problem is heat and light, and materials to build it. And who's going to work it. Seems like a logistical nightmare, but... the thought isn't half bad." He didn't like it of course, but Korbin never had much appreciation for new things.
A fatal flaw in a world that constantly changed.
His frown deepened when his reasoning didn't gain much of a response. He was especially concerned with Chuy's indifference towards the official title of the Outlander.
"So you don't see a problem with an official member of another government receiving inside information on Halo's internal affairs?" he asked. "I didn't like it even when the man wasn't Arbiter, but now there's even less of a reason to maintain those ties. Why does he want the information? What is he doing with it?"
Korbin's jaws tightened, life and heat returning to listless eyes as the topic got him more and more worked up. "Weaver claimed the same. She said he was just helping her, but if the man really only wanted to help, he could have asked for anything. Furs, meat, ice, whatever Halo had to offer, and it would have made a fair trade. Instead he asked her to sell out her own people."
Getting up from the chair, Korbin paced the room restlessly, unable to sit still. He had hated this agreement from the start, but kept quiet because Weaver asked for his trust.
"I trusted Weaver not to give away anything vital, but now? Who knows who would end up spreading what goes on here. What happens when the other regions find out about the mage glass used by the cultists? What do we do if outsiders start searching the Fangs for more? I hope you realize that your job is more than breeding ningos, Chuy. It's about keeping Halo safe."
Coming to a halt, he turned to face the man, and the expression on his face was serious. Korbin loved his homeland, with a passion only secondary to his family, and with one gone... there was only so much left for him to protect.
It was perhaps Chulane's fatal flaw to always think the best of people - to immediately trust, to naively assumed that everyone is as honest as him. He doesn't think to question people's motives, to mistrust, because he doesn't think that way.
He was learning, though. He was adaptable, at least.
"Greenhouses might be the only option Halo has," he commented, "and anything is going to take the entire region's support to get going." He conceded the point about logistics - it would take the full support of the region, and possibly a slight expansion of it too - people relocating here permanently, to lend their bodies to the manual labour that was growing, harvesting and distributing the foodstuffs Chuy intended on producing.
But he was confident that it could still happen, that it would stimulate more of an economy for Halo, more substance for them to trade, more ability for them to enrich their lives - but only if they wanted it. That was the tricky part.
Chuy nodded along with Korbin's words, indicating that he understood better now - he supposed it was potentially problematic to have unknown quantities of sensitive information fed to another government.
When Korbin rose up, Chuy leaned forward again, as if ready to rise in a heartbeat should such action be needed. But the boy merely got more passionate in his speech, more direct, and almost accusatory. He might've taken offense to the tone, but then the boy called him Chuy, and he just about wept.
They were having a conversation. A real, complete conversation.
Well, sort of. More than what they've ever had before.
"I take my role seriously, Korbin. Very seriously. I am here to serve Halo to the best of my ability." he said with his hands spread wide, hoping to reassure and placate the boy. Then he kept going, spitballing ideas, notions, entering into a discussion - there was passion, real and direct, in his tones too, though he didn't stand and start pacing around the room, it could be seen in his posture and his earnest gaze.
"And I would ask the same questions you have raised of the man as well. That's what I mean about re-negotiating. Ask him. Approach it like a business deal. Get clarity on what information he was getting before, and what he's using it for." He fell silent a moment, as a thought cascaded through him mind.
"Perhaps, suggest that as an official in his government, he should perhaps seek out the officials here, to set up a more open line of two way communication, to foster healthy relationships across borders. That might free up what the bar could offer as tradeable goods."
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
Korbin bristled somewhat over the suggestion that Halo would go under if nothing changed. The notion was ridiculous. The region had been doing just fine for three centuries, and it was only the influx of outsiders and their erratic comings and goings that put a strain on the region.
"There was balance here before that damned portal opened," he replied, trying his best to calm down. He was raging over Sunjata, not Chulane. To the point where he wasn't registering the use of nicknames or even that he was talking to someone he had sworn to avoid. "We were fine. There were good years and bad years but the people survived. We were alive, life was good. Why does every outlander come here and wrinkle the nose at Halo like it's not good enough?"
He actually sounded hurt, offended to the quick that his beautiful, harsh and brutal homeland didn't meet whatever standards they were used to. First the fucking Palace, then the bar, a gods cursed spa and now this too. What was wrong with the booze they had before? What about their councils of elders, their sweat baths and the luxere jerky? Why did everyone want more when what they had was already enough?
Walking off to lean against the wall next to Chuy's chair, Korbin scowled down at his feet. The idea of even talking to Sunjata made his blood boil, and the only kind of conversation he was interested in was the kicking kind Neron had suggested.
"He's had chances to make offers like that to the Warden before," Korbin pointed out, a little bit more collected now that he was on his feet. "If Torchline wanted official connections, why haven't they tried already? Even Weaver didn't know what Sunjata wanted with the information... I wonder if it's even for the government, or if it's about something else."
His brows remained knitted as he though of the recent discovery he'd made at the bar.
"I found a hidden door at the Kraai," he revealed, lowering his voice even more. "In the kitchen. Locked... and really fucking hard to see. I've worked in there for weeks without ever noticing. Not something meant to be opened unless you know it's there."
He threw a look at the other, interested in hearing what theories Chuy might have about it. The thing had weighed on him for a while, but who was he to talk to about it? The one he trusted above all others had not seen fit to tell him about it.
"I never meant to imply Halo wasn't good enough," he said softly, a contrast to the impassioned argument Korbin was leading. "Change is not something that is always easy to accept. The Voice is the one responsible for the portals, and the Outlanders, or so I've been told." Informed by the Voice own demi-god, in fact, and so he was inclined to believe it.
"Tradition has its place, but if I see an opportunity to build a resource for Halo that would enable them to weather Deepfrost without fear of going hungry, even if a being like the Eirachi comes along and fucks things up, should I keep it to myself? If I see a way that might mean even in the bad years, there are fewer deaths and disaster overall, should I just not try to make it work because tradition dictates those people were due to die?" He posed the questions with only a fraction of the barb that Korbin's had, but he wanted to convey that despite the boy's bluster, he wouldn't be pushed around as well - he wanted to help goddamnit. "You want me to keep Halo safe. That's what I'm trying to do."
Then the conversation turned back to the matter of the Kraai. He didn't really have much else to say on the questions Korbin raised here, about why Torchline and Halo didn't already have a political means of communication. "Some line of communication must've happened, at least between the Grounders and Halo, else they wouldn't be staying here. Surely similar must exist between Torchline and here. I'll ask around." He said simply. "I still have a lot to learn about Halo, and the other regions, and the world here in general." He admitted, rubbing his temples with his fingers for a moment. The small amount of exploring he'd completed before the portal got snowed under had been mind-blowing in itself, and the books too, but they were nothing in comparison to being able to look at the rest of the world as a whole, to experience first-hand.
"Oh?" he murmured as Korbin made his revelation in a low voice, looking to the boy with surprise. Something clicked in his mind, though whether it was truth or not he didn't know. "Perhaps information wasn't all that was being smuggled out of Halo through the Kraai." His tone was quiet, toeing the line between a whisper and normal speech, thoughtful and guarded.
Remember when I swore That you and I would never die
"I know," he said, and the bitter tone spoke volumes about how he felt about The Voice too. "She's the reason Halo turned from a regular tundra into this too. Why my mother and siblings were side eyed all their lives for having magic. For being abandoned by the gods, because of one greedy person's transgressions. Change is never a good thing." At least none that he had ever seen. In Korbin's case, it had always equaled death and the loss of something he loved.
"Changing things just because you can is the ultimate form of hubris. I feel like it undermines everything that was done in the past, all the sacrifices made. What did all those people die - what did my family - die for if all it takes is one man and a few ningos to disrupt all the ways we've lived for centuries? It makes us look stupid. Like we've been sitting around waiting to be rescued when it's not... Halo doesn't need to be saved because it's not broken!"
He couldn't seem to stop. The words came pouring out again, like they had before. Last time, Loren had been the one to have this stiff necked pride dumped upon him. Stuck in a cave during a snowstorm, a mere hour after Korbin had killed a man. And here they were again. A new set of ears to listen, a new cave, and this time it was Weaver who had died. Another trauma, another stone added to the pile. Who was he trying to convince? Chulane... or himself?
How many funerals would he attend before he turned nineteen? Four down, and there was still a ways to go. Was it him? Them? Halo, Caido? Who was he supposed to blame för this?
Apparently this was an angry day. Pain phased into rage now, not numbness, and the boiling inside him alarmed the raven. He used to have such an even temper. Not one to argue, or get into fights, and yet it was all he did lately. Poking, prodding, needling and riling people until they flared up and he had a reason to unleash on them. It had been done in good humor in the past, merely a joke but now... There was no humor in it now.
"My point is, that if Sunjata wanted an official line of communication, he would have opened one," Korbin went on, shifting back to the topic of the Arbiter. "And I see no reason why he would listen to me even if I suggested it. He dislikes me just as much as I do him, because I don't accept his bullshit excuses and hand waving of whatever he does."
Hearing Chuy's theory, the boy's expression fell, that look of hurt growing deeper in his eyes. Crossing his arms over the chest, the shoulders hunched, buckling as if under blows.
"She didn't tell me." He had gone quiet now, the vitriol dissippating, replaced by something brittle. "She should have known I would have her back, no matter what... yet she didn't tell me about that door. About whatever she was doing. She didn't trust me..."
