But Elliott felt unopposed, he was undaunted by the clear threats Telvern's eyes were giving him. He calmly and valiantly proceeded onward into this conversation, avoiding the dangerous, piercing glare. "Despite your efforts to convince me of the prospect, it stands as highly unlikely that your sanctuary would be here in Governanti," Elliott told Telvern, making him grow more inflamed. "The nobles would no doubt recognize you with little trouble, as I have. And considering the frequency of Balor's newly-mandated home inspections, you would have been discovered long ago regardless of your skill with disguises. Ormemel would offer similar risks; the nobles in that city let little slip from their memory, and the city buildings are inspected regularly for signs of decay. Your only option would be Foirfeach, which would prove a challenge to hide within due to its minuscule population."
"...What are you trying to imply?" the genius questioned the nobleman, indignation hung just beneath his tongue.
"Though you refuse to admit it, there is only one other city where a fugitive of the Imperial Kingdom could seek safety within," Elliott continued. "A place where no one would recognize your face and your past, a place where you would be safe from prosecution. You knew this and, in an act of desperation, threw yourself at the mercy of their leader. And though your pleas must have discomforted him, he would have been a fool to refuse. After all, how often does one gain the unconditional allegiance of such a talented man? He was smart to place you at his side, similarly to Lord Divus."
The fatal silence surrounding Telvern was augmented with each syllable Elliott spoke, the furious miasma exuding off of Telvern like a red shroud. His eyes truly the fangs of a snake now, venomous, sinking into the nobleman like his next victim. Regardless of what Elliott could feel, he didn't allow his newfound environment to get the better of him.
"The men of Lumbridge are notorious for being quite vocal about their leaders, you know. Rumours of their unmatched talent spread far beyond their own borders," the nobleman went on. "Of these fables and tales, I particularly appreciate the legend of the Resistance's mysterious tactician: a man of vast intellect and careful calculations, whose flawless planning resulted in countless victories. His knowledge of the Imperial Kingdom and its weaknesses was beyond remarkable -- only an accomplished scholar of Governanti could hope to compete. One would only wonder as to his identity..."
It was to the point of no return now, these words were cast out and now circulated the world. Their opposed gazes collided in a heated, tense battle, stimulating the air like an electrical conductor. "I shall ask again," proceeded Elliott, jumping into the fire. "Where have you been, Telvern?"
The question came out, transforming the air into a pile of bricks. The sound of everything died, the world went eerily silence and still. Elliott and Telvern fought a battle with the eyes, trading glances and sneers. Although he appeared calm and composed, the emotion and feeling behind Telvern's eyes were a completely different story. He leered upon the nobleman viciously, a menacing, violent glare. But even with that, Elliott remained perfectly natural, tranquil.
He didn't even need to ask anything anymore, Telvern's silence spoke in depth. In this moment of quiet, the genius' mind went helter-skelter. He felt stressed, feeling as the curtain came up to reveal him. He could feel it too, a single droplet of sweat come rolling down his skin. Was he actually nervous?
The two had lost all track of time, their silent screaming had completely devoured their lives. The atmosphere like a sponge, having absorbed all this hostility, this heat, this tension. But like a volatile chemical, it was ready to explode at even the slightest spike of instability. Tossing away his angst, Telvern methodically plotted his last resort, calculating the risks and consequences of his decision.
He went through a step-by-step plan in his head, a desperate bail-out strategy. The tremendous pressure coming to a head, forcing the genius to make his move. He felt threatened by the nobleman, not liking the idea of being exposed at all. And moreso than that, his distrust of Elliott demanded a move be made against him.
This backalley was a good choice, a backdrop Telvern specifically chose for its ability to disappear and... to conceal. The genius made his move without hesitation, quickly pulling open his coat and bolting his right hand for the left side of his waist. His hand found something laying in secret in the shadow of his summoning pouch, the handle of a weapon.
He deployed the weapon, slowly and quietly pulling it out of its sheath. Elliott's image appeared so vividly upon its shining body as though tattooed onto it, a dagger's deadly sharp kiss ready to find him. Even though Elliott foresaw this outcome, he refused to move. His stature and body language unswayed, unfazed by Telvern's obvious desire for his life.
The genius held the dagger without fear at his side, his ominous outlook pouring down upon the threat to his life like alcohol onto a wound. The two venture forth in a conversation of silence, continuing to practice this speechless craft. A give and take of glances and glares, but it would not stop the firming of Telvern's hand around his dagger.
But even as Telvern continuously and relentlessly unveiled just how steadfast he was, Elliott still made no effort to move. His calm disposition in the face of this dangerous look he was receiving told a lot about him, his composure during this looming threat to his life unwavering. Time continued to fly by, going at a sluggish yet rapid pace.
But after a while or perhaps a brief time, Elliott simply sighed as though he had reached some kind of unfortunate conclusion. He closed his eyes, lowered his head, and spanned his arms out to his side. They reached up to be just higher than his waist, leaving himself open and vulnerable. "Do what you please," he told the genius in a level-headed fashion, leaving himself defenseless. But then his eyes popped back open, dishing out a hard and earnest staredown. "but know this: I am not the enemy. If you intend to make this alleyway my grave, then understand that you'll only be robbing yourself of a crucial ally."
""Crucial ally"? These final two words a major detour, temporarily stopping Telvern from reaching his inevitable destination. Telvern paused just before he took one step forward, pondering this possibility. Despite the dislike and doubt he held over him, Elliott appeared sincere, his voice spoke candidly. He's really going out on a limb here, reaching out to Telvern as far as he could.
Reminiscing on the brief time Telvern had spent with Elliott, he had done a few things that strangely made Telvern question his distrust a little. If the nobleman had even the slightest resentment towards him, then surely the situation would be much different now. Elliott wouldn't have talked to him, told him all of those things, even would have gone into this alleyway with him. Telvern's mind was his own, that much he knows with great certainty.
Regardless, this distrust and embitterment towards those associated with the Imperial Kingdom didn't falter in Telvern's heart. No, Elliott could still very well be the enemy. He could be after some different goal, like perhaps even working for Balor. Maybe the king of the Imperial Kingdom suspected something, but how? Still... the idea of a "crucial ally" really threw Telvern for a loop.
At any rate, there was a echo of intrigue within Telvern. Faint as it might be, it resounded loudly enough to grasp his attention. It stayed his hand for a moment, kept his boots to the ground. Elliott could see it, Telvern permitted him a moment to explain himself. Like pitching an idea, the nobleman had to give the genius his best shot.
"I've had my gaze fixated upon him for some time now, our misguided Lord Balor," explained Elliott in a calm, orderly tone. "The others continue to partake in his perpetual game of pseudo-politics, looking up to their much-beloved king and chanting empty phrases of approval. They speak only praises of their king, and they eagerly pounce upon those who would defy this decree. They are afraid of him, and they allow this fear to blindly lead them to that which they so imprudently assume to be the truth. The others may see no other alternatives and choose to submit to him, but I refuse to be one of Balor's pawns. They must learn to accept that the man they once knew as prince has become a deranged madman with absolute authority."
Elliott then very vigorously shook his head, outright in denial of something. "I've seen the truest nature of our lord and king, and I've witnessed the fate of those that defy him," he continued. "A conceited tyrant without bounds, the very face of madness itself! You've witnessed it firsthand, have you not? The paranoia, the utter delusion he exudes. His regime has been an infection to us all, spreading and corrupting everything it comes into contact with. He has torn down the very foundations of this prosperous, fertile country that his father had dedicated his life to! It pains me to no end to witness silently, to watch on as Governanti rots away into a hollow husk of its former self."
Telvern continued to hear Elliott out, listening on in voiceless interest. He was internally embattled by the nobleman's display, seeing some qualities that sought his trust. But still, the ever-distrusting genius didn't want to pull down his shield for even a second. He didn't want to make any mistakes, and he knew trusting Elliott could very well be a grave one.
He kept the dagger close and stead in hand, ready to bolt for Elliott's throat should the situation corrupt. But for now, he allowed Elliott to have this moment, because it could be his last words. Elliott kept his arms out to his sides, wanting to keep himself exposed and easy for an attack. It was a sign, a symbol that he was truly not the enemy in this moment."The leader of your Resistance was a former member of the Ruler's Counsel, much like yourself. Raphael Béla, correct?" the nobleman asked a rather straightforward question.
"What of him?" Telvern replied quickly the moment he heard Raphael's name, overlapping Elliott's voice.
"Rumours regarding your leader have been abundant in the aftermath of the assault on Lumbridge," Elliott stated. "During his victory rally, which he so adoringly called the "Foundation of Utopia," Balor proudly proclaimed Raphael's death at the hands of the queen. Though Balor seemed rather confident in his victory, your presence here must mean that the Resistance lives on in some capacity. I now wonder if Raphael's wound as grievous as Lucia thought."
Yet another paranoia was crammed into this small, confined space of distrust like just one more article of clothing in an already jam-packed suitcase. What if he were working for Balor, or be willing to tell Balor of these truths? The element of surprise would be forfeit, and what was left of the Resistance would be potentially murdered.
They barely managed to escape death just a week ago, and that was a miracle beyond comprehension. If Elliott were to become an ally, he would be exceptionally useful. Elliott watched Telvern freeze and think about it, though that dagger in his hand was still very eager to meet Elliott.
"Please understand that my concerns are sincere. Raphael and I share something in common, you see," Elliott spoke up, trying to persuade Telvern further. "We're both disciples of Lord Divus' wisdom, his... 'sons', in a sense. He tutored us, taught us much about life and the ways of the world. We are his descendants in that we've been imparted his wisdom, his philosophies, his aspirations, and his views of the world. After his assassination, the collective ire of Governanti was cast over Raphael. They believed him to be the sole perpetrator of the highest act of treason imaginable, and as a result they viewed him as a spineless coward. There was a time when I was amongst those ranks, and like many other grief-stricken nobles, I personified Raphael as a heartless demon to help cope with the pain of loss. But then I stopped believing in fantasies and opened my eyes to the reality before me. In a moment of clarity, I saw the true culprit: a man who spoke only lies, and worked tirelessly to weave false tales to feed to the masses. No one ever thought to doubt him -- there's no reason for them to. I realize now what I should have seen from the very start: Balor killed his father in cold blood. Raphael was merely a scapegoat and a victim to his hideous act of betrayal, taking the fall while Balor rose to absolute power. Every house burned and every life lost, it's all been the result of a prince's merciless pursuit of power. All to secure his place upon a throne of fraudulence."
"And what is to be gained from this divulgence?" impatiently questioned the genius. "Speak it."
"If you insist, though I have no doubt that you already know," Elliott calmly declared. "I do not consider Balor to be the rightful successor to succeed Lord Divus as king. What he saw in Balor confounds and perplexes me to this day, but I know for certain that it was not Lord Divus' will for Balor to create this empty husk of a country. Balor refused to heed his father's profound advice and carelessly squandered his opportunity for intellectual growth at every chance. This is why I believe that Raphael is Lord Divus' true successor and his true 'son.' Raphael was a faithful student who took Divus' teachings to heart and garnered much of the wisdom that Balor lacks. Divus' passed-down wisdom has helped guide Raphael in his fight against the maniacal overlord who would see his kingdom burn and even see his own kinsmen enslaved in order to satisfy his desires. Lord Divus himself would revolt against his son if he were alive to see the monster that he has become. I have grown sick of standing idly as Balor continues his reign of terror, and I wish to purify this world of one more madman by contributing to his downfall."
Hearing this conveyance, Telvern began his process once more. He withdrew into his hollow shell, pondering Elliott's words, particularly the "disciples" bit. Thinking about it intently, it would make sense that Divus would find successors. Yes, indeed. Although he loved them very much, Divus did not believe Balor and Lucia could lead this world to the kind of peace it needed and desired.
No, he knew that they would bring this world bigotry if they took the seat. A shame, Telvern thought, that he was right this whole time. It's for this reason Divus would turn to another, people he believed in his heart could lead this world to true peace. Raphael was to assume the throne, so Divus guided him and imparted him all of his wisdom. But what if Raphael were led astray? That's why Divus required another, someone who was kind and had a precise intellect.
This person would sit beside Raphael, stand by him as his advisor just as the genius stood alongside Divus. Someone like Elliott would fit that profile: a powerful, but fair and honest nobleman. Above all, Divus wanted the right kind of people to rule this world; fair, just, honest, commanding people. Only those people could reign over this land, this land full of corrupt, power-hungry fools. Indeed, such a theory proved quite successful everytime Telvern went through it in his head.
He proceeded on with this discussion with caution, still not fully committed to Elliott's integrity. He still did not trust Elliott, but Telvern found trust in Divus' trust of Elliott."What is it that you intend on doing, then?" asked Telvern.
"Your appearance here only solidifies the accusations that Balor made against Lord Momus," theorized the nobleman. "He truly was working with the Resistance."
"Indeed,"
Elliott took one massive, bold step forward, raising his left hand up and planting it flat against the center of his chest. "Allow me to fill that vacuum that his death leaves behind and stand in his stead," Elliott made his valiant suggestion. "I may not wholly concern myself with the Resistance's cause, but what I do desire is for Governanti to be as Lord Divus envisioned it. It is in my firm belief that Raphael will bring this country peace if he manages to defeat Balor and end this conflict."
Telvern took Elliott's proposition to heart, but copied it to his head. It was an idea that Telvern now had to mull over, finding it to be a rather tough call. But perhaps there could be a use for Elliott, one that could deliver the Resistance from this most hopeless situation. Now that Momus was no longer at their disposal, their invasion plan was cast in the flames of development hell.
