"For the death of my wife, Jeanne," he answered, besieged by his own thoughts, his own memories. "Nine years ago, my mother passed away. But before she died, she made one last plea, requesting that I seek out and bring home my father and sister, both had gone to Governanti on a mission several years prior and never returned. I traveled to Governanti, and although I exhausted weeks in search for them, I couldn't locate even a speck of them anywhere. It became my growing suspicion that they'd become palace slaves, so I infiltrated the Imperial Palace. Be it by my own way or not, I found Lord Divus. When I asked of my family, he vaguely replied that they were simply "gone." Quite frankly, even at the time, I had already concluded their fates as such, being that we hadn't heard anything from them in quite some time. I suddenly became void of purpose, but Lord Divus then offered to put me by his side as a member of the Ruler's Counsel and as his personal advisor. Like every new member of the council, I was 'gifted' a 'high-quality' slave. Because she was a human bred in the Mundus-Ishvara slave trade, she bore no name. I'd no intention of addressing her by their ridiculous moniker, so I gave her a name."
""Jeanne", right?"
"...Yes," the genius confirmed sorrowfully. "The concept of enslavement was still rather foreign to me at the time, so I merely treated her as a guest. Though, despite its being unquestionably unlawful, we eventually fell in love with one another. Four years, the only time where I actually felt truly alive. But then, one day... it all vanished before my eyes. I came back home, expecting to find her there awaiting me, but I found only Loyal Knights awaiting to arrest me. As they were carrying me off, I got one final glimpse into our home... I found Jeanne just lying there, bleeding out upon the floor. I broke free from their grasp... I never ran so fast to something in all my life... I took her into my arms... She was gone from me..."
Raphael tried his best to maintain his judgment, his stoic, undeterred disposition, yet cracks had begun to appear in his armour. A destroyed man, lost of so much that there was nothing left. A house is deprived of all purpose and meaning without something to occupy it, an empty house's true purpose would be only to erode away into nothingness. That was Telvern, the happiness which filled him disappeared, only hatred and anger left to take its place.
"We were accused of fraudulent rapport and conspiring to assassinate Lord Divus," Telvern furthered his explanation. "I was thrown into a prison cell, left alone to my own grief. But when the night came, so too did Lord Divus, who began to unravel this tangled mystery to me. As it seemed, someone reported that we were engaging in 'suspicious activity' which required investigation, so they came. Balor himself oversaw the entire operation, their search uncovering maps of the castle premises with marked routes of the patrol, suits of a patrolman's armour, even a message from Malik himself supposedly instructing the assassination be carried out. Upon this discovery, Balor killed Jeanne for her treason. And although my fate should have followed similarly, he decided to spare my life due to our "mutual friendship.""
"Master Malik would never issue that order," Raphael adamantly asserted. "Him and Lord Divus were friends, he'd never want him killed."
"At the time, I knew nothing of Malik, so I merely pegged him as yet another human extremist in the sea of thousands," the genius said. "Lord Divus then proceeded to unlock my cell, demanding that I forsake the city. I did what was asked, but as ludicrous as it were, I returned to Governanti just days later. I wanted those of Governanti to believe I was dead, so I began whispering the false-truth of my death to the eager ears of the noblemen. But above even this purpose, I returned to murder those responsible for framing us and singlehandedly destroying my life."
"And did you find them?" the silver-haired heir asked curiously.
"Fionnlagh Avalos and Clara," he very angrily, resentfully named, surprising Raphael. "Some time after my return to Governanti, I went into the Bemused Buzzard, browsing through the minds of each person I could see. My eyes then caught glimpse of those two together, unable to keep themselves from one another. They laughed and spoke with vile, so I peered into their thoughts... and I found exactly what I sought. The Governanti Resistance had long planned to assassinate Lord Divus, even as Malik had strictly prohibited it. It seemed they intended on going further with their plans, but the Loyal Watch may have begun to note strange happenings around their house. In fear of this, Fionnlagh and Clara disposed of the evidence, finding an appropriate nobleman to push onto their sword. As their fortune would so have it, there was just such a nobleman whom they could believably frame..."
"That's strange," Raphael noted, crossing his arms. "Where was Ralph in all of this? He'd never allow such a plan to occur."
"It matters very little now, doesn't it?" Telvern said, his voice low and bitter. ""Evil triumphs when good men do nothing", as they say. And those good men are as equally blameworthy of the evil's actions as the evil itself."
"So what next?" questioned the silver-haired prince. "What led you to the Resistance?"
"As I gathered together the details, my wrath merely grew," the genius continued. "Indeed, every fiber in my being screamed that I should brutally murder them where they sat. I'd every intention of ceasing their miserable lives, so I proceeded, dagger firmly in hand. Yet when I drew near them, something halted me in my haste for vengeance. A sense like an impulse which beckoned me out, my mind suddenly preferring the idea of tearing them apart... meticulously. I left the tavern, yet I was not the only one aware of my presence in the city. Balor was left rather furious with news of my disappearance, so he formed a dragnet comprised of certain members of the Loyal Watch loyal to him to reacquire me. As it so happened, one such member located me and requested that I make an appearance before Balor. Under normal circumstances, I would wholeheartedly refuse such a proposal... Yet these were tumultuous times, and as a man attempting to fade away, attracting undesired attention is a death sentence. So I followed along for the time, being brought to Balor without the public's awareness."
"And?"
"Balor made me an offer," Telvern stated. ""You plot the murder of the very king you swore by blood to protect and serve, you should have been dishonored beyond redemption and left scattered in the wind. Yet by my generosity, here you stand, a living man pretending to be dead, your honor intact, if not bolstered since your supposed suicide. Surely you comprehend your situation, don't you? You could suggest that I was by my breath that you still draw breath, that you owe your life, as of right now, to me. I could have you killed right where you stand, yet... such would be a waste of both my time and of your talents. If you truly are innocent of these crimes as you claim, prove it. Infiltrate the Resistance, be as an illness to them, destroy them from the inside out. In exchange of your services to the Imperial Kingdom, I'll turn my cheek to your deeds, thus sparing your life.""
"So you did it because you thought you had no choice, huh?" Raphael concluded.
"Afterwards, I traveled to Lumbridge as the king's former advisor on the run, no longer able to tolerate my mind being a slave to the whims of the king and his council," Telvern returned to his story. "The Resistance's frame became my life, I was a human extremist looking to provide my services for the betterment of humanity. I dangled my knowledge of the inner workings of Governanti like tasty bait, and easily enough, they were hooked. I was given audience with Master Malik Poena himself, though I suspect Malik wanted to see me not so much based on my cover story, but rather based on my surname. I was the brother of a woman he'd befriended many years ago, though I was not made aware of his relation with my sister for quite some time. I served the Resistance as the eccentric, foolheaded advisor, keeping my distance and disdain from all others. I had all but devoted myself entirely to enacting my revenge, until I stumbled upon something I had forgotten about in my belongings. A parchment I had carried with me for quite some time, but never truly paid any mind to..."
"What was it?"
"Did you ever wonder exactly how it was you survived your throat being cut open with but a scar to serve as a reminder?" questioned Telvern.
"I have, but I never gave it too much thought," Raphael answered honestly. "There were more important things to think about."
"You were delivered from death," the genius told Raphael, startling him. "As I served as Lord Divus' advisor, he requested that I look into some old parchments found just after the Solasúians took the land, thought I might find them intriguing. These parchments were the research notes of an old runecrafting master who lived in Varrock, who spoke of a rune which could produce life. The "Life Rune", as it were appropriately labelled, but it was described only in legend. He believed that such a rune was truly mythical, "perhaps it is better left as such", he concluded. I gave his notes a thorough inspection myself, but my conclusion was akin of his. The entire legend was absurd, impossible... But to a mind ravaged by loss, the very concept of regaining that loss is... dangerously tempting."
"So you buried your head in books all day and night to find a way," the silver-haired prince responded to this tale, receiving a head nod from Telvern as confirmation. "I suppose you intended this rune for Jeanne, correct? If the Resistance mattered so little to you, why waste it on me? I was the Resistance's leader, bringing me back seems like a waste."
"Yes, you're correct," the genius concurred, then very lightly smirking. "The truth is, Jeanne did speak of the Resistance at times... She so desired the freedom of humankind, yet she bore no resentment towards the godkind, not even her former masters. She wanted a bridge between the two races, so that they might communicate with one another, come to understand each other... Even as I acknowledged my own agenda was in direct opposition of her beliefs, I still carried on with the deed. When all of you went to halt Balor's rise to the throne, I followed you without your knowledge, told the Desert Assassins where to find you. I was even there during your fight in the throne room, when you were put in chains. I had anticipated that all of you would die that day, however Malik teleported all of you out, thus thwarting my efforts."
"What changed?" asked Raphael. "You were so eager to kill us then, why stop? Why bring me back, why stop trying to end us?"
Despite the urgency of Raphael's questions growing larger, Telvern wouldn't immediately give response. His mind burdened with all the tender, valuable memories of his beloved. He sat there with a soulless expression on his face, his breath shaken and raw as it came out into the air. He couldn't even muster the courage to face Raphael, basking his eyes in the fire.
As the fire's light danced off of his glasses, Raphael could see as he seemed to struggle to speak anymore, his lips tightening, his teeth clamping shut. It mattered not how long this seemingly infinite silence spanned, Raphael had waited far longer for these mysteries to be unraveled before him. He stood there, patiently awaiting Telvern, releasing all his pent-up frustrations in one heavy sigh.
"Be at peace,
Palaemmir
," Lamia, at Raphael's side, then suddenly spoke out to Telvern. "You've been long caught in this shadow, imprisoned in this dark room you've made for yourself. Open your heart as though a door... I promise you, there is light beyond your walls."
Telvern sluggishly steered his eyes to where he heard that voice speak from, just off to Raphael's right. He didn't directly look at that space, his hollow, steely gaze dastardly misplaced. "I don't require your encouragement," he growled at Lamia, his tone rather harsh and fierce.
"Don't speak to her like that," Raphael vehemently defended, stepping forward.
"Disarm,
Palaemmir
," the goddess then calmly advised Raphael, attracting his eyes.
Telvern then cast his eyes back into the fire, visualizing his home engulfed in flames, his beloved's body burning inside. He no longer desired such a view, closing his eyes for he couldn't bear it anymore. His hands clenched so tightly that his nails could break skin, too painful was this situation, treading down this road.
Any and all pain was then wiped off of his face, only apathy there to comfort him. Void of a heart which Lamia spoke of, Telvern's empty brown eyes reemerged from the cover of his eyelids. "...Jeanne was with child at the time of her death," Telvern then finally confessed somberly, his voice breaking with each word. "I so longed the idea of starting a new life beyond the Desert Assassins, and when Jeanne informed me that I was to be a father, I finally felt such a prospect well within my grasp. I was beyond mere elation, in fact words could not do such a feeling any justice. For perhaps the first time in all of my life, I was alive... but then everything changed... then I changed. Hatred became me, and I'd become it... But then..."
"But then?"
Telvern's soulless, steely gaze then very slowly twisted, piercing straight through Raphael. For the first time in a long time, Raphael was placed under his uncle's eyes, the genius finally having the courage to look at him. It was very hesitant at first, taking quite some time before it became solid. "...But then, you came down that ladder," Telvern responded, referring the basement ladder, his voice stoic, stern as his usual self. "You, a boy I had tried killing just days prior. I never saw your face before then, but I instantly recognized who you were the moment I peered upon you... The spitting image of Lord Divus, yet bore the eyes of his mother. You were so naive, merely tossed headlong into this whirling chaos, and you just so conveniently happened to land in Lumbridge. I was meant to destroy the Resistance, yet through your hapless idealism, I steadily grew more... stagnant. Rather than annihilating the Resistance as was my purpose, I began to give it aid, give you aid."
"Then you teleported Uriel and Elena to Governanti, indirectly causing the fall of the Governanti Resistance," Raphael stated in a steady tone. "And then after that, you killed Uriel."
"Balor instructed me to kill the boy, no longer requiring him," the genius explained.
"And you just followed his word, his orders," Raphael growled with a slightly spiteful tone.
"I felt not indebted to him, yet my hand was forced," said Telvern. "Rejecting Balor's proposal would be tantamount to tying the noose around my neck myself, and I was not about to fall on my sword for a wretched cause which stole everything from me."
""Wretched cause"?" the genius' nephew quoted angrily, clenching his fists, his eyes a vicious beam. "There are millions of lives which depend on that "wretched cause"!"
"It was either my life or those millions of lives which depend on your Resistance," the genius callously responded. "To me, the only logical option was clear."
"Your life over all others, is that right?"
"Naturally," Telvern calmly answered. "To serve one's self, to preserve one's life is only instinctive. I am not so juvenile as to throw down my life for another like some gallant fool in a child's fantasy."
"So, why stop serving Balor?" Raphael questioned. "Seems rather perilous to serve the losing side."
"Though my servitude was unwillingly offered, I was desperate just to merely regain a sense of normalcy in life, no matter how fleeting," the genius by the fire explained. "During the attack upon Lumbridge, he came before me and unlocked my cell door. We spoke for some time before he finally decided to make his intentions for our conversation perfectly clear, running Arbandor clean through me. He left me for dead then, requiring my services no longer."
"So, in the end, it seems you got neither your life nor ours," the young man responded.
"I managed to retain what little life I had left, using my Unicorn Stallion to heal the wound in my gut," Telvern went on. "I ran back through the halls and found you, exhausted of blood from a slash to your throat. Your death became my dilemma, for the fire they had set to the castle had swallowed my research notes whole. I had all but intended that rune for Jeanne and abandoning all of you to your fate, yet my own words came screaming back at me. It seems like an eternity ago, but I once swore to Jeanne that I would help produce a better world for all, human
and
god. The very idea of returning her to a world where the Resistance is no more and Balor reigns supreme was... incomprehensible. There was only one conceivable way to achieve this promise to her, and that was to raise you from death."
"You squandered your only chance at happiness to save me, huh?" Raphael disapproved, putting this whole tale in short terms.
"No, I "squandered" nothing," the silver-haired prince's uncle replied, shaking his head. "Rather, I repurposed, reformed. Returning you from death was a sort of resurrection of my own self, my own self purpose. To capture this promise before it goes beyond my grasp, I require someone, someone who I can trust, someone who I can believe in."
"And that someone is me?"
"Yes," Telvern answered in confidence. "Lord Divus envisioned a world where every man could stand in front of the other on the same ground, not as opposites, but as equals, irregardless of the blood which courses through them or the size of their backpocket. I have long dismissed such a reality as abhorrent, preposterous sanguinity. No, a world where living, free-thinking creatures coordinate in such harmonious fashion is the fruit of an unreachable tree, such belief is blatant fallacy."
