Scrutinising Isidor's Suitors

[votivescholars]

The discussions had been long and intense. Apart from the Tenemil boy, each of the potential suitors Lieselotte had found had been fought for, and against, by each of them at various points. The genetic advantage of Andolian as a husband was a particular point of contention. Genetically Andolian was clearly the best match, Vercor pointed out, and the goal of marriage was to strengthen the bloodline. In return Lieselotte was quick to say that if he really thought that then he would have married a Scottish girl instead of her. Stathis sat uncomfortably through most of the arguments except for the odd occasion he intervened with an unhappy grumble or a small rant.

At the end of it all they were down to two. Lieselotte championed 'the handsome Zandros' while Stathis supported 'the Leywalker boy'. Vercor was not going to choose anyone based solely on a second hand account, even his wife's, so they soon found themselves calling on Harrowheart once again. Lieselotte asks the death knight to arrange for Zandros Alter to come to the Durant manor on one day and Basil Leywalker on the second. Both are allowed to bring their parents for the visit, and are assured that this is not a formal event (though they are advised not to treat it casually either). Both will get a list of the customs and manners expected of them for meeting the Archon. A list which, though they ask Harrowheart to write in his native language, is rewritten by someone with a finer hand.

When the first day comes Harrowheart is asked to come to the manor ahead of time so that Lieselotte can run over some rules. Namely, how to address the Archon, and how to introduce him. Then, finally, Harrowheart gets to meet the infamous Archon Durant, Accomplished Scholar of Magic Itself, creator of Dragonfire, and father of Isidor Briar Durant.

Comments

Day One: Zandros Alter

[votivescholars]

The Archon's manor is not as opulent as the one Viatorus' engagement was at. It has a decidedly more sombre look about it, a fact which the grey skies outside only emphasise. Once again Harrowheart is greeted by the grand wooden staircase and impressive paintings of the large hallway. Except this time he's alone and it's Lieselotte who greets him, sweeping over to him with a wide smile and pleasant conversation. It should be no surprise to him that they have to navigate a maze of corridors before arriving at their destination.

The double doors seem bigger than the rest, even though they clearly aren't. Perhaps because of the ornate floral patterns carved into the wood. Whatever it is, they manage to draw the eye with ease.

With one small encouraging smile, Lieselotte turns to the door and knocks twice. The doors part and Lieselotte beckons for Harrowheart to follow her into the Archon's office. It's a very large room. Enough space to have three ornate but uncomfortable looking armchairs around a fire, a large dark wood desk with a door in the wall behind it, and of course, an exceptional amount of books on bookcases that stop short of the portraits set up high.

The Archon stands by one of the tall windows. His black suit is perfectly tailored, a dark purple tie with subtle patterns that catch in the light, all with a simple white shirt. Perhaps more striking is the purple strip of fabric, its lining black with gold embroidery, much like the sash he wore at Viatorus' engagement. It is held at his left shoulder with a gold clasp and hangs with a golden dragon and veil similar to the one on their family crest resting on his chest.

"Vercor, this is Harrowheart," Lieselotte introduces with a graceful gesturing of her hand. "Harrowheart, this is Vercor Durant, the Archon, and accomplished scholar of magic itself."

The Archon waits until names have been exchanged to offer his hand. "We met before. Briefly."

[westfallcorndog]

The day was bound to be a mess of nerves even before Harrowheart laid eyes on the Archon. Firstly there was the matter of what to wear. He couldn't very well wear his engagement suit again, but he also knew that the day would be an important one, and he had to make a decent impression on his first meeting with the Archon. He had neither the money nor the time to buy something new for the occasion. So what did that leave him? His suit of armor? How would the Archon feel having a conversation with a knight in a cold case of Saronite?

But what other options did he have?

And so it is that he follows Lieselotte meekly through the Archon's manor in a heavy suit of armor and battleworn red cape, his currently passive runeblade sheathed on his back. When 'Lady Durant' knocks on the Archon's door Harrowheart takes in a deep breath that helps him stand tall. He can already feel himself dissociating from the moment. Better to be emotionless and distant than make a fool of himself or appear to submissive. Still, he can't quite hide the spark of worry that clears his eyes when he catches sight of the man himself.

The Archon.

Lieselotte introduces him as if he could be anyone else, and Harrowheart finds himself nodding once, seriously. The Archon extends his hand and Harrowheart offers his, the fingers and palm gloved in leather and protected by metal at the tops. His shake is strong, but his gaze is not. He doesn't quite look the Archon in the eye, and he says...

Absolutely nothing. He only stands there, staring, waiting.

Nice to meet you, Archon.

[votivescholars]

The Archon greets him and Harrowheart simply shakes his hand. The awkwardness is palpable in the brief silence that follows.

Lieselotte turns to her husband. "I had planned to sort out a few details before our guests arrive. Is that alright?"

The Archon finally tears his gaze off of Harrowheart to nod at her. "Yes. That will be all for now. Thank you, Lieselotte."

Harrowheart gets one more encouraging smile and then leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Now that they're alone and so close, it's easy to see the resemblance to the Archon's two children. His features are reminiscent of Viatorus, though his hair is combed straight, and his stare is even more piercing than Isidor's though his eyes are dark brown, not green. Harrowheart also has a distinct height advantage, and yet the Archon somehow doesn't seem like he's looking upwards while he considers the death knight.

"I've heard a lot about you," he finally says. "From Isidor and Lieselotte."

Again silence falls as the Archon looks him up and down. "Can you sit in that?"

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart offers a tiny nod and a small smile to Lieselotte as she prepares to leave. Despite its faintness and the apparent difficulty of it all there's a sincerity behind it. Despite it all, Lieselotte has been kind and respectful to him. It wouldn't be right not to treat her the same in return.

And then they're back to staring. Archon and death knight.

Isidor's name crosses the Archon's lips and Harrowheart's distant expression softens, though he stops himself from smiling. In a quiet voice just above a whisper he says with a tilt of his head, "Only good things, I hope." A pause. "Sir." Best not to forget his manners.

He nods at the question, removes his sheathed sword from his back, and moves to the nearest chair to sit. But when he puts his hand on the arm to brace himself he pauses. He wasn't exactly invited to sit, only asked if he could. Was that some kind of trick? Or is he only making a fool of himself? He stands straight again and looks to the Archon for an order.

[votivescholars]

When Harrowheart hesitates, the Archon invites him to sit with an open palm. While Harrowheart arranges himself on the chair, he sits in the one opposite. They're not made for comfort, but they do look nice. It seems the Archon is fond of silence. He's comfortable to let it sit between them before they speak.

"I should thank you," he continues. The more he speaks the more Harrowheart can hear the strangeness of his voice, a combination of his indistinct accent, soft words and the huskiness that clings to them. "Lieselotte tells me you have been invaluable in helping us with interacting with your world. It is no small feat." He tilts his head, eyes drilling into Harrowheart's and his voice lowering. "And what brings us here today is very important to me, and to this family."

He sits back into his chair, back still straight. "While you are here your allegiances are to this family. Both Isidor and Lieselotte assure me that you are loyal and protective of Isidor and Viatorus. I trust them, and I won't make you convince me too. You can prove it, over time. That's how trust works. We take a measured chance and prove to each other than we deserve it." He prompts Harrowheart for an answer with a tilt of his head. "Do you agree?"

[westfallcorndog]

The relative comfort of a chair is lost on a dead man sitting in a suit of armor. He rests his sword across his lap and listens very closely as the Archon speaks, though his focus is on the space between them more so than the man. At being called invaluable he inclines his head respectfully. Probably the most flattering assessment anyone has ever given him. When he feels the Archon's eyes upon him he looks up, and he forces his focus not to leave him as he looks him in the eye. Elune, he hopes the man doesn't take that as a challenge. He's never felt more conscious of what every part of his body is doing than in this moment...

His allegiances are ordered, and Harrowheart nods solemnly. He understands that, and he doesn't question it. Then there's stillness as he continues to listen to the Archon's words. Another tiny nod hints at his agreement, but he tilts his head and hesitates as he considers what he has to say. He can't just agree. The Archon's going to look at him like a sycophant if he does.

"I learned that much from Isidor," he says, once more not quite meeting the other man's gaze. "That you can't... Mnh." He half shakes his head and pauses as he thinks. "That... Trust isn't a promise that comes out of your mouth. It's everything you do that makes a person believe in you. And... I enjoy havin' them in my life, so I work real – very – hard to do things that make me worth trustin'. My loyalty is to them, and their loyalty is to the family, and so..."

He returns to his nodding and makes confident eye contact with the Archon. "My loyalty is to the family."

[votivescholars]

"I'm glad we understand each other." Unfortunately as a human the Archon does have to blink, but it's so rare that every so often it almost looks like he's keeping up with Harrowheart. "I want us to be on the same page before we meet the Alters."

His hand half curls and he shakes his knuckles ever so slightly along with his words. "While we are doing this, we are a team. We are here to see if either of these young men is an acceptable husband for Isidor. A standard so high I would rather seek mages from other worlds than bind her to the families here. She is the epitome of what it is to be a Durant. She holds everything that makes us good within her." The Archon lets that sink in for a moment. "I want perfection, Harrowheart."

He leans forward an inch. "If they say something out of line, I want you to tell me. If they act strangely, I want you to tell me. If you suspect something, or they say something suspicious, I want you to tell me. Then and there."

Day Two: Basil Leywalker

[westfallcorndog]

How many hours would be enough? How long would he have to beat his sword against the training posts in the central pit of Acherus to fight off his frustrations? How much time would have to pass for the tension, the bitterness, the fear to untie itself from the knot that fills his stomach?

Longer than a night, that much he knows. And yet the very next day the Durants expect him back at their manor with the Leywalkers in tow. As the sun breaks he sits at the edge of the ziggurat wiping away the blood of this morning's kill from the grooves of his blade. The red cloth of his cape hides the stains well enough, but if anyone were to notice, would that be so bad? Maybe he's been going about this all wrong. Maybe he should have let Isidor's family believe he was capable of violence and danger – of killing, even. Maybe if they didn't see him as someone who would try to fit into their society... Maybe if they saw him for what he was...

Across the horizon floats Dalaran, and below his hanging legs froths the whirling ocean. He doesn't want to fall, but the thought crosses his mind. He could. If he were living it might solve some of his problems. But as a dead man? If he fell into the sea he'd be trapped, caught by the underwater currents, stuck at the bottom of the ocean. And for how long? The thought unnerves him and he pushes himself back until he can't see over the balcony's edge any longer.

It's an hour before noon by England's standard when Harrowheart, still in his armor, arrives at the Durant manor. He's alone so far in case the Archon wanted to speak with him again... Which, somehow, he expects he does.

[votivescholars]

As before, Lieselotte is the one to greet him, dressed in another conservative but elegant burgundy dress. She leads him to the Archon's office once more, all the while talking about the Alters and what a wonderful job he did translating for them. Oh she knew it was very different from what he's used to doing, but aren't they such a wonderful choice?

This time after she knocks on the door and lets Harrowheart in, she leaves him alone with the Archon as soon as she's announced him. The Archon doesn't rise from his desk. In fact, he only looks up once to confirm that it is in fact the death knight before him and then continues writing.

"Harrowheart." He finishes a sentence with a firm dot on the page. "I thought we could discuss a few things before you brought the Leywalkers to us." He doesn't quite wait for a response before he asks, "How do you think yesterday went?"

[westfallcorndog]

Lieselotte is free to carry on the conversation as she sees fit, because Harrowheart can't find words for her. He walks beside her with his eyes forward and his jaw set. The more she talks about the Alters, the more she praises them, the less he's part of this world. His gaze loses its focus, and he's hardly aware of the fact that they've stopped before Archon until suddenly his feet aren't moving.

What the Archon asked was a rhetorical question. He's not too stupid to recognize that. There's a chastising coming, he can tell. Everything about the Archon's body language and everything about yesterday says it all. His fight with Zandros is what did it, he's sure of it. What he's not so sure of is if he's ready to act contrite.

His answer isn't quick past his lips and his words, when they come, are a distant echo translated into rough English by the Nexus' residual magic. "What could ever cross my mind that you don't already know?"

[votivescholars]

"I don't know what crosses your mind." The Archon pauses in his writing to look at the death knight, his brow raising but not his head. "Or else I wouldn't have asked."

He returns his gaze to the papers on his desk, taking his time to sort out matters that simply can't wait. "You're not pleased with how it went. Is it simply the Alters you have an issue with or have we done something to upset you?"

[westfallcorndog]

The Archon's continued insistence takes Harrowheart by surprise. He blinks and loses the strain in his brows. He expected he'd be reprimanded already, or at least agreed with. But it's the question that follows that stalls him the most. Can he get out of answering that? Is there a way to answer without answering?

He looks down, and when he begins to think his brows take up their creased, lowered tension once more. As his mind grinds his gaze slowly lifts toward the Archon until finally he's got his words.

"What crosses my mind right now is that... Sometimes... Dead folks know things that the livin' can't know. I know somethin' you can't be told. If I tell you, or if you find out, somethin' terrible will happen. I have to keep it to myself to make sure that terrible thing don't happen. If I keep it to myself, everything goes good. But when dead folks have to keep secrets – when we know secret things – sometimes it makes us vengeful. Still. It's better I be vengeful than you know the truth."

He knows he shouldn't do what he's about to do, but after a borderline admission like that he needs a little relief. He draws out a cigarette for himself and lights it. Puts it to his lips. Inhales.

Good. Something to distract him. The smell, the taste of smoke. The feel of paper between his fingers, between his lips. A little light to watch at the end of his face.

"I don't got an issue with the Alters."

[votivescholars]

The Archon doesn't like not knowing things. That much should be clear by the walls of books and the paperwork in front of him even now. He watches Harrowheart closely and rolls the pen between his fingers. There's silence between them as he thinks, as he considers what to say or ask next.

"Is this secret going to be a problem today?" His eyes flick to the cigarette. "I don't want to be left without a translator unexpectedly." His gaze switches back to the death knight. "It is highly inconvenient."

Day Two - After the Manor: Harrowheart

[heirtothearcane]

Today a lot has been revealed that Viatorus was completely and utterly unaware of. While that isn't usually a surprise when it comes to his family, this time it's about something life changing. He knew Isidor would have to get married some day, but he didn't know his parents were already looking for someone. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined they would ask Harrowheart for help with it, or look for a husband in Azeroth. If they had told him that before he would have been anxious, worried for Isidor... but after meeting Basil he was already reassured.

Although Harrowheart seemed a little... off in the manor, Viatorus was eager to talk to his friend about this new revelation. So he messaged Harrowheart and sat on a bench in the park, waiting for him to appear.

[westfallcorndog]

Twice now. It's twice now that Harrowheart has had to meet with Viatorus with the spectre of negativity haunting him.

When he sees his friend his lips twitch in the shadow of a smile, and without a proper greeting he drops heavily into the bench beside the mage. He sits still, utterly still, until finally he breathes in only to sigh a cold and foggy rush of air through his nostrils. Only then can he try again for a smile, this time just a hair more believable.

"V," he says. "What's up, my man?"

[heirtothearcane]

Yet again Viatorus brightens when he sees Harrowheart, but contains his excitement so that he doesn't make a scene by yelling before Harrowheart is in speaking distance. That is... until he realises that Harrowheart looks... tired. It feels... oddly familiar, but also not. It certainly doesn't look right on Harrowheart.

"Um." He starts, then hesitates. Excited as he is, he can't help but be a little concerned. "I... I'm fine. Good. Great. Fine." He turns away to clear his throat and then puts on a gentle smile for Harrowheart. "How are you? You... You seem a little... tired?"

[westfallcorndog]

"Tired?" he asks, and with it comes a tiny huff of a laugh. "I think... My head is full, that's all. I've had a lot of thoughts lately. It's like working out a muscle I haven't used in a while."

A more sincere though still quiet laugh comes now when he says, "So maybe I am tired. But you seem pretty lively, huh? Saw you smilin' from all the way off. You got some good news to wake me up with?"

[heirtothearcane]

Viatorus nods along in understanding. If Harrowheart was helping his parents the way he had to, it would almost certainly be very tiring.

"Well, I-I wanted to make sure you were alright, partly." He smiles guiltily and lifts a shoulder. "I didn't know you were helping the Archon. That can be... a lot of pressure."

"A-And I wanted to talk to you about Basil- Ah, Mr. Leywalker," he continues excitedly. "They don't want me to talk to Isidor about anything yet, but you know. I've never met a real Kirin Tor mage before, a-and you've told me so much about them. Hearing about them was exciting, but meeting one was everything I could have hoped. He made us a cake! Just like you said they could! Out of thin air, just like that!"

[westfallcorndog]

"I'm not helpin' the Archon," Harrowheart corrects. "I'm helpin' Isidor."

He pauses a moment to think about everything Viatorus has said about Basil. Though his expression had grown distant when he listened, now it softens. He blinks as his gaze shifts around the park, but quite a bit more silence passes before he turns his weary eyes back to Viatorus. Another little smile for his friend.

"Sounds like you really like him, huh? He really made you a cake? Was it any good? 'Cause, you know, if you get a spouse who makes cakes, Isidor probably deserves one, too."

He waits again, quiet once more until he thinks to ask, "You didn't think he was borin' or nothin'?"

Follow Up Meeting: Harrowheart

[votivescholars]

The suitors had been met and considered and a choice had been made. The main goal had been achieved and now all that remained was for the details to be sorted out. Harrowheart was one such detail.

This time when he arrives at the Durant manor there is a servant waiting to meet him. He is led down the now familiar route to the Archon's office by a butler who holds himself with as much pride as any Durant. When the door opens Harrowheart will find Stathis slouching in one of the armchairs until he spots the death knight and straightens.

"The death knight Harrowheart, sir," the butler introduces. Then he takes a bow and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Up until that moment the Archon had been focused on reading whatever was at his desk, but now he looks up, spots Harrowheart, and stands to greet him. "Harrowheart." Once he gets closer he holds a hand out to the chairs where Stathis is already sitting. "Please, have a seat."

[westfallcorndog]

Another trip to meet the Archon. Frankly, Harrowheart is growing tired of these people. Maybe the fact that he'll never be part of their family is a blessing after all. It means less time around a man who unsettles him in new ways every time they interact. Stoicism that he understands but doesn't, the scrutiny of his unimpressed gaze, the memory of the handshake that Zandros earned after an embarrassing loss on his own part. The idea of seeing the Archon one more time in this cursed week is--

Oh. And suddenly he's at the man's door. He hadn't even realized he was following the butler but now must shake himself back to reality for the meeting he spent the last few minutes dreading.

"Stathis," Harrowheart mutters in greeting, his voice so quiet as to be almost inaudible. He isn't in his armor today, but elected to wear beige Azerothian clothes that make him look more like a man from a sepia photograph than a knight who kills to survive. It's the sword that throws the whole thing off, really, and now it rests on his lap in its sheath, blanketed by his still, blue hands.

"Archon," he says a little louder, dipping his head respectfully as he does.

And then he sits. And waits. He watches the Archon in silence, expressionless and expectant. Tell him what you summoned him here to tell him and let him be return to the world of the half-dead.

[votivescholars]

Once Harrowheart is seated, the Archon also sits in an armchair near his brother who shifts in his place, looking the most uncomfortable of all of them. Lieselotte was always better at this sort of thing than him. Luckily the Archon is willing to take point on this.

"Harrowheart, you've done a lot for this family recently," he starts, folding his hands together. "I understand that you gladly help Isidor and Viatorus purely as a friend, but we would like to express our gratitude to you in some way more substantial than a simple thank you."

He lets that sit in the air for a moment before continuing. "That being said, it is difficult for us to know what a death knight needs or wants. Perhaps we can provide you with something such as a holiday in a private home, or private meals by renowned chefs." His head tilts ever so slightly. "Or perhaps we could provide something for your family. A house, or tools."

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart had been so self-assured of what would come out of the Archon's mouth. Part of him hoped that the Archon would announce they had rejected both suitors, but he knew that would swiftly be followed by a demand of more prospecting. But this... Recognition? He isn't quite sure how to process this. He was certain the family would give him nothing -- not as much as a word of thanks. To hear that they hoped to reimburse him for his time was truly a shock.

Of course, the one thing he wants is the only thing the Durants would never allow him. His right hand slowly moves over his left and he grips it tightly. He can imagine, at least. Imagine holding Isidor's hand and being brave enough to ask for it.

He's staring. He blinks rapidly to stop himself and adjusts his posture in his seat. He doesn't want what they're offering... But what, aside from forbidden love, does he want?

"My family..." he begins in German, his voice low and uncertain. "They are not, at this time, capable to receive a gift. It is difficult to explain. There will be no gifts for them."

What else had the Archon proposed? Harrowheart turns his lifeless stare on Stathis as he thinks.

"I do not need food, and I cannot take holiday on Earth." He pauses, his glassy eyes still stuck on Stathis, and he thinks for quite a while.

Eventually he inhales a deep breath and returns to the conversation as if no time at all had passed. "I understand it will be difficult to find a payment for me. In the Nexus I have already the things which I desire. The single thing I need to live, I take on Azeroth."

Not strictly true. After all, a man cannot live on killing alone. He needs a reason to want to win his battles. Harrowheart knows this. But articulating it?

A little life comes back to his face and he quietly laughs at his own expense. "A bit of wisdom is what I truly need."

[votivescholars]

The Archon doesn't so much as twitch as Harrowheart turns down each of his offers one by one, but when he makes his own the Archon doesn't respond immediately either. He simply holds Harrowheart's gaze until his eyes shift towards his brother who turns his own perplexed expression onto the Archon.

Finally the Archon looks back to Harrowheart. "Wisdom, advice, counsel, knowledge. We have plenty of that. Who would you like to speak to? A healer, a necromancer, a medium, our smith, our seer, our priest... Perhaps someone with more philosophical expertise, or practical."

[westfallcorndog]

An involuntary sound escapes Harrowheart's throat at the mention of the necromancer. Harith Nur, that breather clown. He'd like to meet with him, sure, but not regarding matters of wisdom.

But the Archon continues with his list of advisors and Harrowheart quickly realizes just how serious the man is taking his half-joking request. He could speak with a Durant... But how could he ever ask for advice from the very people he's trying to hide his secret from?

Unless...

He inhales sharply through his nostrils and leans forward toward the Archon. There is one member of the family who must already know. "Oraskis!" he says, bordering on breathless. "Oraskis can assist me!"

And as quickly as it came his excitement is gone. He slouches in his seat and mutters, "But he does not like when people come to him searching help. He will resent me."