To Telvern, Elliott's knowledge of this was rather surprising. Yes, it made him feel slightly exposed like a crack in a wall. A cold draft came in, forcing him to curl up in defense against it. This threshold shifted and churned like the angry gathering of a storm, although such feeling made absolutely no appearance upon Telvern physically.
The genius just kept glaring on in silence, awaiting Elliott to make the next move. "The entire city believes you to have been dead for years, Telvern," calmly stated the nobleman. "A funeral ceremony was even held in your honor and attended by those who knew you, myself included. Lord Divus gave a eulogy in your remembrance, and we stood together as we lamented the loss of a true scholar. Even now, a small memorial stone stands in the palace gardens."
Telvern continued on lingering in his seemingly eternal silence, even after Elliott made this rather eye-opening proclamation. His face as stagnant as his jaw, but something would finally trigger some kind of motion in him. Elliott crossed his arms, looking upon Telvern as the genius' eyelids were set down. "...And yet, the dead man himself stands before me and draws breath," the nobleman concluded.
The moment Elliott's voice faded, the place grew quiet and hollow. The sounds of the outside went completely deaf to them, not even the blaring noise of conversation and bodies moving could break this silence. This moment near everlasting, yet condensed in a mere fraction of a second... The realization that he was found hit him hard, his house of glass had finally crashing all around him. His ruse was finally revealed, his lie finally coming into the light.
He simply closed his eyes, feeling relief as the lie was laid to rest. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before I was discovered," Telvern responded to Elliott softly, confirming this as truth.
"Even to this day, rumours over the manner of your death run rampant," the nobleman explained. "They never found your body, leading to endless conjecture over which way you may have perished. The prevailing theory held by nobles suggests that you wandered deep into the western woods and took your own life out of grief over your wife's death."
Telvern's light brown gaze reemerged from under his eyelids, his steely, callous gaze returning to this world. "...That's not necessarily far from the truth," the genius revealed cautiously but candidly.
"I must admit that years of idle speculation have left me curious over the truth behind your death," Elliott confessed. "I had begun to lose hope in ever collecting a satisfying answer, but it seems that even death cannot hold your brimming intellect."
Telvern knew exactly where Elliott was heading with his words, preparing himself to respond. Elliott pulled his entwined arms asunder, holding his left hand up with his palm pointed up. "Please, do enlighten me," he requested inquisitively, seeking out the answers that have so long eluded everyone.
"I don't believe I have a need to answer any of your questions if you've not a need to answer mine," Telvern was quick to deny his pursuit, and Elliott seemed genuinely disappointed by the genius' response.
But he had no time to waste with it, not letting it truly bring him down. "I believe that I've already made myself clear to you, Telvern," he voiced his frustration. "I have none of your so-called "requirements" in mind, and I certainly don't bear any ill intentions..."
Elliott's eyes bolt jaggedly upon the genius, seeing as his heart was without budge. He was bottled up, armoured under a shell as thick as a wall of solid rock. The nobleman simply sighed in this instance, vividly displaying his amounting dissatisfaction. "If you still find reason to doubt me, then you truly are impossible to appease." he spoke with a rather annoyed tone.
Finding himself at the end of his words, Elliott was immediately welcomed with an air heavy and tense like he had committed murder. The sole suspect was this nobleman, and Telvern was the hard-boiled detective in charge of the case. Though such a feeling was difficult to recognize at first, Elliott could just see and feel the quiet disdain emanating off of Telvern.
Elliott's frustration vanished in a moment, having the look of a calm, collected suspect who had all the cards. He was willing to push out a plea deal, a deal that would see him freed and plentiful with all he desired. "How familiar are you with the old saying, "if one wishes to acquire, one first must sacrifice"?"
Despite what information could be gathered from his face, Telvern truly was bitter and resentful. Elliott's hand slowly inching in, reaching towards that which the genius had protected for so long like a precious, priceless artifact. He glared viciously into Elliott's eyes, seeing a man undaunted, unfazed, and actually rather accepting of the hate.
The question was simple: was Elliott trustworthy?
So many things have happened now, the entire plan that the Resistance was relying on like a lifeline was completely ruined. Still the question of Elliott's intentions clawed its fingers into Telvern's mind, keeping itself alive and well in sight. And who knew what other things Elliott could do to Telvern now that he knew that he was alive?
Telvern's eyes continued to push into Elliott like he were pushing in a dagger, thoroughly scouring the nobleman's soul. In this city of tyrants and those willing to push one off the edge if it meant something to gain, Elliott appeared to be the least... treacherous. But the key word was "appeared," as Elliott could easily just be masquerading in a form that would best suit the situation. And yet, another sword would be raised in Elliott's defense...
Would Divus have trusted a man like that? After all, Divus had eyes like almighty beams of light in darkness, revealing all the truest and most ugly aspects of all he knew. He knew the nature and self of anyone he spoke with, his judge of character absolutely unmatched and unchallenged by any soul. And considering he knew of his own son's betrayal before it even happened, Telvern felt comfortable trusting in Divus' judgment.
Telvern returned to reality after an exhaustive search, having picked upon a tree bearing no fruit. No, it would seem Telvern had no truly logical reason to continue doubting Elliott as he did. Well, at least to the point that he did, there was still plenty of reason to not trust him. He was willing to open up to Elliott now, but only because it meant something for him in return.
But now he realized that the path of this conversation has turned into a narrow beam traversing darkness, teetering just above shadow and uncertainty. Surely one false step would cast him off-balance, thus plunging him into the unknown... "Ah, yes..." said Telvern as his eyes strayed off of the nobleman's face. "I had forgotten the conduct of a Cayrel, always putting one's back into a wall. It's a talent that you've inherited quite well, Elliott."
It was obvious to Elliott that Telvern had put on a guise, keeping hidden how he truly felt. Given that his eyes wandered away, it seemed as though Telvern was rather pained to have been placed in this situation. His reluctant voice curling up to hide, not wanting at all to divulge this secret he had long kept very closely to himself.
He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to even think about it. His heart wasn't ready,
he
wasn't ready for this. Elliott was an enemy, a bringer of pain. But this wasn't something the nobleman preferred to do, nor is it something he had any desire to repeat in the near or distant future. But alas, he had to, his hand was forced. Even as Telvern's throat swelled up to reject his voice's passage, it managed to come through.
"...It is as you suspect," hesitantly confirmed the genius, pulling his eyes from over yonder. "I did plot my own demise, carrying out and faking my supposed suicide with the intent to deceive everyone. A tale spun in my own mind, a web of lies meant to keep others away if they got too close. Yes, this false-truth was whispered to the eager ears of the noblemen. As this rumour passed from one to another, I watched from a distance as I dissipated. My face gradually faded away from the memory of this city, from the memory of all who knew me--"
Telvern cut himself off right in the middle of his sentence, then very briefly chuckling to himself. "—Well, evidently not from everyone's memory..." he corrected himself.
His eyes then rid themselves of any soul, any life in them. His face turned off to his right, straying away from the fire momentarily. He quietly, sorrowfully reflected upon a past flooded with memories he outright begged to never have to look through ever again. His frail heart quivering, losing a piece of himself with each of his qualms, his plights.
Her face appeared everywhere he looked, her voice haunting him even as he slept. Like being surrounded by tall fences topped with razor wire, the more he tried to escape, the more he hurt himself. The evanescence of his past bliss, of all his days spent in love, giving way to nothing... "No, I
should
be dead," he truly believed with an empty voice. "I did die... I
am
dead. I've worn so many faces over the years that I am uncertain of what I am anymore..."
"A dear friend once told me that the mind of a man is as mysterious and unraveling as the cosmos itself. Unsure of our purpose, we wander aimlessly through life in search of the answers that no mortal man bears. We constant alter our innermost image in a desperate attempt to satiate the unspoken desire to belong. The concept of a man as a static individual is simply... unrealistic." Elliott told to Telvern, drawing his eye. "I implore you, put your troubled mind to rest. There was never a man who avoided struggling with his conscience."
The attempted assist didn't even flinch his distrust of Elliott, yet his words were so horribly and cruelly truthful as if they were knives in disguise. "...I don't suppose they ever announced how it was that my wife died, did they?" the genius then proceeded to ask.
"I believe that Lord Momus suggested her death at the hands of illness,"
"As you know, it is strictly prohibited for us as gods to engage in any kind of relationship with a human," Telvern informed the nobleman, feeding him knowledge he most likely already knew. "We cannot love them, nor care for them as our equal in life. This law is irrevocable, unquestionable. The fools who break this law are prosecuted, brought to justice, and they become the next victim of the gallows as a result. The truth is, I was among those fools..."
At this end, Telvern noticed a strange look of understanding in Elliott's eyes. "I see..." commented the nobleman in a quiet tone.
"Jeanne was a slave whom I acquired as payment for my services to the Imperial Kingdom, their idea of a 'gift,' if you will," he explained. "But rather than looking to her as such, I took her in and treated her as I would any other. Eventually I began to feel more for her than I should have, and it wasn't long after that that we fell in love with each other. It was a forbidden union, something that we had to keep secret from everyone."
Telvern crossed his arms, wanting to withdraw, to restrain himself. Even after all of this time, such a thing was impossible to even think about, much less talk about. He closed his eyes to picture her face, just maybe he could find strength in his memories. He recollected her so very fondly, so very warmly. He used her smile to empower him, to push him forward.
"Four years, four very blissful years I spent with Jeanne..." he continued to tell Elliott, forcing his jaw to keep moving. "But then... then it all vanished, disappeared before my very eyes. It started as any normal day, I kissed Jeanne goodbye and left for the day. The day was fairly average, discussing rather typical topics: finances, the Resistance, the state of Governanti and its people. Once Lord Divus permitted my departure, I left for home, yearning for my return to her. But I would come back to find Loyal Knights at my door, and they put a blade against me. They informed me that they had found out about my being with a human, so they came to arrest me."
Telvern sighed with deep lament, trying to push himself through this. "...I peeked inside our house as they were restraining me," he continued, his voice gradually becoming pained. "In the middle of the room, I saw Jeanne lying there. I broke free from their grasp, rushed over to her. There was so much blood everywhere... And I knew the moment I saw her there that... I took her into my arms, and there was nothing..."
Elliott's face mimicked his internal feelings, a toxic concoction of anger made to blend with his intrigue. The threshold goes silent as Telvern isolated himself, unable of speaking anymore. Attempting to buy the soulless genius some time to recover, Elliott prepared his voice. "How typical of them," he growled with ire in his tone. "When presented the chance, how quickly they abandon their honor and laws in favor of bloodlust. Does the life of a sentient creature mean nothing to them?"
"It matters very little when your eyes do not share in their glow," Telvern's callous voice cracked open, speaking at such a weak pitch.
Elliott sighed heavily. "Begrudgingly, I must concur," he somberly replied. "Such shallow-minded bigotry clouds the judgment of our kinsmen to this day."
"They placed me under arrest, ripping me away from her," Telvern went on with his story, his voice getting stronger. "We began to move in secret, making sure that I not be found by the public. They then threw me into a prison cell, left me to grieve on my own. It seemed as though the day lasted an eternity, but the night came. When the darkness settled down around my cell, Lord Divus appeared from out of nowhere. He asked that I listen, not speak, and began professing strange words to me. Even as he admitted it was most likely worthless to me, he apologized for everything that had happened. He was regretful, grievous that he was incapable of preventing it. The moment his voice ceased, he unlocked my cell's door and demanded that I escape the city. He then slithered back into the darkness, disappearing from my presence before I had a chance to ask him any questions. But I did as asked, thinking of nothing else, leaving the city with the night. I returned to this city days later, and I began to spread the rumour of my death. I had hoped it would disinterest the eyes of those who would see me prosecuted, rendering me absolved."
"Lord Divus must have been eager to lay your public image to rest and silence these rumours, hence the funeral."
"He ordered those involved with my arrest to keep their tongues still, even sending them away to Ormemel to resume their duties as members of Earl Maurine's personal guard."
"It's only fitting that he would embrace this rumour, in an effort to preserve your honor and immortalize you as a reputable member of our society." Elliott theorized, which Telvern confirmed with a nod of his head. "Yes, I can imagine him doing something to that effect. Lord Divus held a plethora of notions, but none of them desired malevolence. He was a man of principle, a man whose views of right and wrong were as clear as glass. It was an admirable quality in him, one that this country has become criminally empty of."
Elliott's crossed arms become untied as he dredged through this, thoroughly digesting the story fed to him. He closed his eyes, recollecting all the rumours he had heard over the years, as well as this truth told straight from the dead man himself. He contemplated this well, tossing it around back and forth like playing tennis with a wall. "After years of conjecture, the truth seems so... simple." he commented in a positive tone. "I must thank you for your honesty, Telvern, for this comes as a much-appreciated revelation."
But even still, there was this nagging sense that not all was put out before him. No, the inquisitive nobleman was not completely, one-hundred-percent content with the offerings of knowledge brought to him. His hazel eyes pulled out from under flesh sheathes, staring rather keenly upon Telvern's face. "And yet..." he uttered with a hint of dissatisfaction. "there is one more mystery that eludes my grasp. A matter of supremely-higher importance than the forgotten stories of the past."
Telvern's face immediately grew hostile, leering deathly upon Elliott. "You've retrieved that which you sought, acquired your truth," the genius angrily replied. "I have played your game, sacrificed as you desired. I advise you best hold your end of the bargain."
Elliott shook his head, calmly dismissing Telvern's words. "Ah, but for all of your answers you have failed to offer me an explanation of one mystery," Elliott quickly declared. "I am keenly aware of when one attempts to hide information from me, and your endeavors of secrecy have piqued my interest. I wish to know where you dispersed to after your rescue by Lord Divus."
"I've been hiding,"
"That much is obvious," said Elliott. "Yet here you are, exposed in plain sight. A man in hiding simply does not leave their refuge without reason..."
"What exactly is so confounding about one paying due respect to another?" questioned the genius.
"You served faithfully as Lord Divus' advisor, yet you chose not to attend his funeral," the nobleman countered.
"What leads you to believe that I wasn't there?" Telvern asked, which prompted an action from Elliott. The nobleman's hand rose, holding up the pair of folded up funeral robes in his hand. "And if I sought alternative means of entry?"
"You wouldn't have attempted the front gate today if you already knew of another way," Elliott deduced. "Your attempts to coerce the guards seemed rather desperate."
"What you're implying is rather presumptuous, I must say," Telvern declared with a swift change of tone, dodging the real answer to what Elliott yearned to know. "A figment of convenience, if anything."
"Very well then, let us skip these playful formalities and venture directly to the point," the nobleman responded, slightly irritated. Elliott's hazel eyes looked on as the genius coiled up in a ball of silence, but Telvern's eyes were speaking volumes. They were sharp and steely like razor blades, digging into Elliott further and further.
