"Well it got me out from between Gren and Burke, didn't it?" The boy replied cheekily, a tiny tucked smirk of satisfaction flashing briefly at the corner of his mouth. "I'll have to thank your man for cramming a boot up in his mouth, finally." Zexion rolled his eyes.
"I want to be freed of more than my Captain." He frowned patiently, looking 'round at his control band, twisting his sheathed wrist against the bindinga. "Bert's made this whole ordeal tidy as can be by Wulgrimm's standards, for my cooperation."
His brows lifted in cooled consideration, drinking in Symon's leer. "Now that Lafidia's won, how much longer does Zakiem anticipate this war will drag on for?"
"Merrick will appreciate it." Symon replied, a smile hovering at his lips.
At the question though, he sighed a little, rubbing at his temple. "It's hard to say." He didn't want to spill all the information to this unknown element. "But that's why we need every edge we can get." His head tipped a little, "So, more than just your captain, just all of Wulgrimm? I appreciate a man who thinks big."
Merrick. That was the name of the one who'd practically frogmarched him here, then. Zexion committed it to memory with a nod.
"If not for his claim on me, I was bound for the Cells." The illusionist explained, which seemed awfully wasteful of Wulgrimm's evaluators, unless they somehow hadn't realized they had an illusionist on their hands?
"I don't have a soldier's constitution." The mage insisted too lightly, with all the coy arrogance of a lapcat. Of course not, and it was easy to see why he'd look too scrawny to hold his own among the ranks of this particular band of brutes, especially. Nearly all of them in the frontlines of Bertram's company were twice as broad and thickset with the sort of overswollen muscle mass that came with certain techniques of channeling a glut of mana into superhuman growth, something that really wasn't heavily advised by the Empress's faction.
But that didn't mean the Captain had set him to strictly recreational work, either. Clever, to keep secret weapon on the sly and pretend it was only a fucktoy. Stupid, to leave it lying in your cot unattended while your camp was attacked.
"Soldiers can come in many different flavors." Symon replied, quietly. "Not all wars, or even battles are won by brawn. You skills could turn a battle. But then again even your captain saw that, didn't he?"
"I don't want to fight." Zexion insisted with a slow wag of his head, plainly as he had before his inquisitors after summoning. "I don't mind being useful, but I certainly don't want to go head to head with seasoned warriors."
"My master saw in me an amusing set of parlour tricks... maybe he had something greater in mind, for me? But who's to say? I still haven't been here terribly long."
"I have the feeling more than a bag of tricks." Symon replied, shaking his head, "Your illusions could reshape battlefields, trap troops, just...change everything." There's a light in Graves' eyes, almost like lust as he thinks what he could do with an illusionist.
"And," He smiles a little, "You wouldn't have to be in the midst of the battle to do, now would you?"
"Illusionary magic on that scale demands a great deal of focus, (not to mention power)." Zexion cautions severely, meeting Symon's hungry gaze with eyes wide and blue and a little like a contrite child's. He had certainly managed it in the Winter Ring of Lafidia, and without much prompting? He'd been saturated with mana from the eve before, then.
"That... depends." He murmurs carefully. He could script all sorts of mirages into his Lexicon and unleash them, but explaining their limitations to a military tactician could prove dicey. "Typically, keeping my targets within a line of sight is preferable?"
Symon took a deep breath, and reigned his excitement back in. It wouldn't do to get ahead of himself after all. So for now, he focused back on the practicalities. Fantasies were on his own time.
"I could spare a few men to guard you." Symon offered. "And certainly wouldn't keep you up in the middle of the battlefield."
Silence spooled out again, uncomfortable. Beyond the tent, the camp had gone quiet again, no calling out from on-edge patrols.
Was he waiting on a yes?
Zexion was hesitant to give him a yes. He didn't really like swearing himself to anyone. At least as a slave, he could say it was a fate that had been forced on him.
But a rear guard. And Zakiem food... and after the state of things back in Wulgrimm, after the failure at Lafidia...
The illusionist shuddered a little, shaking his head. Although he had few bargaining tools, unless they managed to cut the band off him, he still was the Captain's mislaid property.
"I told them I didn't want to be a soldier." He finally spoke, gathering up an uneasy sullenness in his voice. When I refused, they made me a plaything instead.
"What makes you think your conscription is any different?"
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illicitresearch) wrote2017-03-14 11:59 am
no subject
"I want to be freed of more than my Captain." He frowned patiently, looking 'round at his control band, twisting his sheathed wrist against the bindinga. "Bert's made this whole ordeal tidy as can be by Wulgrimm's standards, for my cooperation."
His brows lifted in cooled consideration, drinking in Symon's leer. "Now that Lafidia's won, how much longer does Zakiem anticipate this war will drag on for?"
no subject
At the question though, he sighed a little, rubbing at his temple. "It's hard to say." He didn't want to spill all the information to this unknown element. "But that's why we need every edge we can get." His head tipped a little, "So, more than just your captain, just all of Wulgrimm? I appreciate a man who thinks big."
no subject
"If not for his claim on me, I was bound for the Cells." The illusionist explained, which seemed awfully wasteful of Wulgrimm's evaluators, unless they somehow hadn't realized they had an illusionist on their hands?
"I don't have a soldier's constitution." The mage insisted too lightly, with all the coy arrogance of a lapcat. Of course not, and it was easy to see why he'd look too scrawny to hold his own among the ranks of this particular band of brutes, especially. Nearly all of them in the frontlines of Bertram's company were twice as broad and thickset with the sort of overswollen muscle mass that came with certain techniques of channeling a glut of mana into superhuman growth, something that really wasn't heavily advised by the Empress's faction.
But that didn't mean the Captain had set him to strictly recreational work, either. Clever, to keep secret weapon on the sly and pretend it was only a fucktoy. Stupid, to leave it lying in your cot unattended while your camp was attacked.
no subject
no subject
"My master saw in me an amusing set of parlour tricks... maybe he had something greater in mind, for me? But who's to say? I still haven't been here terribly long."
no subject
"And," He smiles a little, "You wouldn't have to be in the midst of the battle to do, now would you?"
no subject
"That... depends." He murmurs carefully. He could script all sorts of mirages into his Lexicon and unleash them, but explaining their limitations to a military tactician could prove dicey. "Typically, keeping my targets within a line of sight is preferable?"
no subject
"I could spare a few men to guard you." Symon offered. "And certainly wouldn't keep you up in the middle of the battlefield."
no subject
Was he waiting on a yes?
Zexion was hesitant to give him a yes. He didn't really like swearing himself to anyone. At least as a slave, he could say it was a fate that had been forced on him.
But a rear guard. And Zakiem food... and after the state of things back in Wulgrimm, after the failure at Lafidia...
The illusionist shuddered a little, shaking his head. Although he had few bargaining tools, unless they managed to cut the band off him, he still was the Captain's mislaid property.
"I told them I didn't want to be a soldier." He finally spoke, gathering up an uneasy sullenness in his voice. When I refused, they made me a plaything instead.
"What makes you think your conscription is any different?"