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Defining Treason

Defining Treason


A partner collaboration between Redred33mer & Modesty set in a unique, medieval fantasy realm.

1,084 readers have visited Defining Treason since Redred33mer created it.

Modesty are listed as curators, giving them final say over any conflict & the ability to clean up mistakes.

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Character Portrait: Talmar of Visigoth
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Defining Treason

It seemed as yet another day would pass in the port city of Xavport. Yet another crate to put on a dock, yet another contract to sign, yet another illegal deed on the black market to keep quiet. The black market, as corrupt and sketchy as it was, seemed to drive the city's profits, and the city officials would always look the other way because the benefit was too great for them. As sandy streets cleared up with traffic, as people went to the docks, markets, or otherwise, a coldness between people set in. No one knew who did what, and seemed better not to find out.

The sun was still rising, and larger buildings with canopies extending over their entrances and out into the street cast shadows covering most of the streets. Going through a more corrupt side of town, a taller man walked through with longer and more ragged blonde hair. People stared at him as he didn't have much on his upper body other than a leather brace, and his longsword on his back and one-handed battle axe held to his hip seemed to be intimidating. But the style of his wear was also interesting, as it wasn't typical of anyone in or around Xavport, most noticeably his green and white kilt that had little to no front, but a longer back that went down to his calves. Additionally, he had metal arm gauntlets, scratched and beaten from their use, but still intact. As he walked down, he took particular interest in an aged, rugged man scarred from numerous fights and much like a brute, receiving money from another man who was leaving the building he seemed to be guarding. The armed brute looked at him as if offended.

"What, do you find something amusing here?" he began to insinuate as he walked over with a large maul. His weapon's end seemed to be stained with the blood of people who haven't heeded to his warnings.

"It was nothing..." the young man replied, turning away sluggishly.

"What do you mean nothing? You obviously want something looking at other people's business," the bulky guard continued. As he continued is instigating, he took two steps and put his hand on the shoulder of the man and spun him around.

"You don't want to fight me," the guard was told.

"It won't be a fight!" the guard hotheadedly exclaimed, bringing his maul over head and whipping it down at the foreigner. However, it seemed to be easily dodged with one simple step to the side, and as he grabbed his one-handed axe, the guard whipped his maul to the side at the man. With just enough time to see it coming, the man put his hands on the blunt weapon, struggling to stop it at first, but he asserted his strength. Swiftly, he kicked the guards knee and grabbed the neck of the maul, wrenching it from his hands. As the guard panicked to stop the worsening of his situation, he went to kick his victim as hard as he could, but his shin was met by a sweep of the man's axe.

"Agh!" he yelled, catching more attention than was already attracted. His stomach was then jabbed by the maul's handle, and as the man flipped the maul around as best he could with one hand, he thrusted it forward into the guard's chest, sending him flat on his back.

"You're right, it won't be a fight," he said in a snarky manner to his attacker. "Don't ever try that again." He tossed the maul forward onto the ground, and turned his back on the site of his battle, and began to walk away. Even after he left, people still stood around as if dumbfounded, never seeing anyone defeat a guard like that, then walk on as if it wasn't anything all that accomplishing.

"You're saying he went into the city?"

"Yes! Take my word for it, please, there isn't much more you can take from me now!" a bartender pleaded, his tavern ruined with broken tables, shattered glass, splintered chairs, and a man in a black robe interrogating him with a wanted poster of a man with longer blonde hair, a longsword and one-handed axe. Letting the civilian cower in fear behind his bar, the robed man exited the building. Outside, in a rather small village not too far away from Xavport, a covered wagon carried forth by horses waited for the man. Three armored soldiers waited for him, guarding the wagon and in charge of the horses. One of the soldiers was carrying a crate to the covered wagon, laden with foodstuffs. The robed man proceeded past his wagon and looked outwards.

The village was atop a hill, and had an excellent view of the urban development known as Xavport, and the seas beyond. Beyond Raem there were yet more mountains, days of travel away from Xavport even on horseback.

"So where to now, Chrolus?" a soldier asked.

"To the port. That is where we will find Talmar. Now we haven't much time, he'll be there at least one day I suspect. He's been traveling as much as he can, I'm sure he's tired," Chrolus, the robed man answered. He turned back to his men and took put his hood down. He was young, and his eyes seemed as if they could pierce and shatter souls. He had short black hair, and concealed the rest of his figure with his robe.

"Now, we proceed onward. C'mon now, we haven't time to lose."


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#, as written by Modesty
“Please.” The voice was strained. “Can’t you see he’s suffering?”

A hand, a little too thin from malnutrition, gripped firmly around Ksenia’s wrist. It was less than iron-clad, something proved as she broke the hold with little more than a shake. The pleading persisted, much to her distaste. The desperation was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth and she contemplated helping by putting the pair out of their misery.

“Piss off.” She all but spat, adjusting the sleeves of the robe that had just been disheveled.

The woman was aghast, gripping her boy as if to protect him from some invisible assailant. Still, she moved to block Ksenia’s way as she took a step, ready to leave the uncomfortable encounter far behind. Eyes, a brilliant blue, turned back to the frail frame that blocked her way with a look akin to storm clouds gathering right before a storm. It was that look that struck fear in others, not her small five-foot-four stature or slender frame. It was that look and what usually followed.

“B-but you’re a healer, you can’t fool me. You are marked.” The woman’s eyes shifted from Ksenia’s to the three white lines forever burnt into the flesh beneath her left eye.

Sen’s fingertips instinctively brushed her cheek, feeling the lines that hadn’t faded in time. Her demeanor softened a little and the storm raged inwards. It was true, she had been branded a Child of the Light; it was a fact that she could never forget. Still… “That was a life time ago.” Her voice was soft, eyes on the ground as she tugged her hood a little further down.

When her vision rose there was a shadow of a smile on her face that didn’t reach those eyes. Her hand darted out, firmly gripping the child’s arm directly on top of the burn in question. She heard him cry out in pain, though she spoke over it. “I am Magica, now.”

A word, not quite heard, was mumbled under breath and the child’s crying stop. Goosebumps rose across the boy, testament to the coolness that spread across his skin. It was a simple ice spell but it was doing the trick. Ksenia knew that try as she might, there was no way she could access the power to heal that should have been passed down inherently.

When she dropped her hand she was already walking away, not pausing to look back at the confused thank-you’s of a protective albeit annoying mother. Her mind wasn’t on the alley, or the lower class citizens. They were far away, lingering between nostalgia and failed self-expectations; a place no respectable Magica should be. Xavport’s lower levels had that effect. You could find anything you wanted in the city, and plenty of things you didn’t. If you weren’t careful one could find themselves tangled in the dangers that lurked just below Xav.

“Fucking bring it.” She sighed, steeling herself and raising her chin as she rounded a corner and headed towards the busier area of bustling seaside town. She didn’t have time to wallow in ancient history when there was business at hand.


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As the altercation in the black market concluded rather quickly, an older boy that observed followed Talmar as he walked away. Running swiftly, he caught up with the man and took a moment to catch his breath.

"Hey... where'd you learn to fight like that?" the boy asked, walking alongside now.

"What's it to you?" Talmar replied skeptically. It was difficult to know who he could and could not trust, especially in Xavport as he's discovered a larger corrupt marketing area. Walking, he sheathed his axe and put it back on his hip, turning the corner towards a port.

"Well, it's just that that guy in particular, John Ghein (geen), he's kept streets quiet for years-"

"I'm not interested in some cleansing campaign you might have in mind, even for money," he interrupted his follower.

"No, it's not that, but-"

"I don't care, leave me alone," Talmar commanded.

"I was going to offer you a job as a gladiator for my father, but I guess not," the boy said, going to turn away. Almost immediately, his potential employee grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"What?" he asked, holding the teen's shoulder and looking sharply into his eyes. The boy seemed to be overcome with fear, not knowing what to do now as he was stuck in a difficult situation at the moment. "You want me to be a gladiator?"

"Well... yeah." Following his affirmative response, Talmar struck his knee into the adolescent's stomach, eliciting a foul grunt and knocking the wind out of him. Holding the boy up as he bent over, he used his fist to hammer him in the back and onto the ground. As he lay there, trying to deal with the pain from only two strikes, a leather boot was placed on his face, pressing his head in the ground. Talmar kept the boy under his grip as his victim lay motionless and seething with anger.

"Take this as a sample of a gladiator's pain, and keep in mind that most of them are enslaved and have no choice but to fight, and few make it out alive. And you choose to exploit this?" Talmar asked rhetorically. He took his foot off the adolescent's head and turned him over with it. "Fighting, especially aimlessly, isn't for people to make money off of." With that, Talmar began to walk away again, and paid little attention to what the boy had left to say.

"You'll... you'll pay for that... I know people! I will get you killed for your insolence!" the boy exclaimed, getting to his knees on all fours.

"Get on the list, kid." It baffled him to see such an arrogant air about people, but then again, it wasn't something he hadn't seen before. It was that he ran into it time and time again, and there seemed to be no escape from it. It seemed impossible, and struck apprehension into his heart.


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#, as written by Modesty
The scene playing out before her wasn’t one she expected. While fighting was commonplace, more so as of late, it usually was between merchants and customers or in a barroom brawl. Here was a man picking on a child. By picking, she of course meant beating. To further the surprise, the stranger was clearly a traveller and the child a face she recognized well. Ksenia grimaced as an exceptionally large fist collided with the youth’s back, dropping him to the street. Her eyes rolled as the outsider vocalized some lesson, instilled by physical pain, before walking away- in her direction.

Sen stilled a moment as she took the time to size up the man. Her eyes lingered on the bare flesh that proclaimed years of refining and training. She tried to place the skill of the leatherwork he wore, though came up blank. It was apparent he was from elsewhere, though it troubled her she couldn’t place it where. Although, it wasn’t just the clothing or lack thereof that placed him outside Xav, but the target of his aggression spoke volumes for ignorance.

Decidedly, her hands knocked the oversized hood from her head and revealed her own identity. Long, dark tresses tumbled in natural waves over the black cloak. Her features were fair and spoke of youth, though something older and hardened glinted behind stormy eyes. Her movements were sure, posture confident as she took a step to the left to block the path of the man who’d just attacked a boy in the streets. Ksneia was all to aware of their weight and size difference, standing at five-foot-four and easily less than half his weight. Still, she had her own advantages.

“What, run out of men your own size to fight?”

Ksneia willed herself not to look at the large axe at the man’s hip, nor think about how many others he had felled with it. She could feel the eyes of the merchants and customers around staring at them; she could hear their whispers. Yes, she was perhaps biting off more than she could chew. Yes, she was sticking her nose in places it perhaps didn’t belong. But for all the crime that Matvei couldn’t control she wouldn’t stand for a grown (or overgrown) man picking on a near-child.

“I’m not going to say that boy doesn’t need a good spanking, but who are you to play parent or police? Keep your hands to yourself, stranger.”

She was letting him know that she knew he was from elsewhere. Ksenia herself hadn’t originated in Xav, though attendance to Facultas has wordlessly adopted the port to her home. Her birthplace was elsewhere in Arakin, and a place she cared not to return to. Sen’s hand gripped a pendant at her neck. It was an absent movement, though one she’d made over and over again.

“That boy you lectured is nephew to the King and the repercussions will likely not just effect you, but resound here in this friendly marketplace. If you’d like I can give you a lesson on how to appropriately meet friends- your own age.”

Sen couldn’t help it, she could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.


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As thoughts surfaced, subsided, resurfaced and instilled more pessimism in Talmar, he became the receiving end of a laughable lecture from a woman on the street. She had assumed a bit much about him, and if it were anyone else, she'd probably be right. But at least he didn't need his weapons for this, as truth seemed to always be on his side.

"Well, other stranger," he began as a smirk grew across his face, "I'm not sure whether to start at 'friendly marketplace,' because I just had to defend myself from probably a black market guard who wanted to squash my face with a giant hammer a moment ago, or whether I have to play other roles I shouldn't, because if people actually did their job, I wouldn't have to teach a narrow-minded nephew things like I did."

He took a moment to study the woman's face as his words either sunk in, or bounced off the layers of her thick skull. Making no movements towards his armaments, his posture grew more open to debate, not needing to fight anymore. He noticed her eyes shifting around his body, especially his axe and longsword.

"If you weren't busy assuming things about my personality, you probably would have asked me a question rather than going off on a rant to me. But, you decided not to, for reasons I probably will never know, and maybe some I might not care to find out. By any chance, could you take a guess as to where I was from? I'd be more surprised if that within five you could guess the region I'm from, and even more so if you guessed my age."


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#, as written by Modesty
“The great thing about Xav is that it doesn’t matter where you’re from or where you’re headed, as long as you don’t cause trouble.” She replied, though the rest she left unanswered.

Ksenia hadn’t assumed anything. She’d seen him nearly beat a boy less than half his size and with the power to detain or imprison the entire district; she’d didn’t want to be prosecuted for stupid actions that weren’t her own. Apparently others felt the same. She could see a few of those that had gathered nodding their head and murmuring their agreement to her words, which held true by just a glance around; the skin colour varied as much as the clothing. Xavport was a cultural hub and melting pot for the entirety of the country. People were magnetically drawn to the rich commercial opportunities.

Years does not wisdom or maturity make… She thought.

She could already see that talk would do no good. Her words weren’t penetrating the thick skull of the brute. His defenses were up and he was reading things that didn’t exist in her words.

Sen absently reached for the medallion she wore around her neck. It was the seal of Facultas, a sign that she had graduated from the prestigious magic school both feared and revered.

“Look, she’s Magica.” Ksenia heard a woman whisper nearby.

“I bet she could take him.” Her comrade nodded, eyebrows rising in surprise.

Despite the fact that Arakin housed Facultas, the majority of the students and professors kept to themselves on their islands. Those that did venture out into the mainland cities were generally unmarked. It avoided awkward circumstances of requests for spells, or unwarranted attacks from others that felt threatened by power. She, too, was often one that liked to remain anonymous and tucked the coin into the bodice of her tunic.

It wasn’t long before she could hear the rhythmic drum of heavy boots on cobblestone streets that announced soldiers long before they could be seen. Somewhere in the back of the crowd someone began to yell that the guards were headed in numbers towards the gathering. People began to disperse.

“Unless you want to be thrown in a dungeon for the night, I suggest you flee.” She said, turning to take her own advice. Ksenia paused, glancing back at him with almost a look of pity. “Come, I know a place.”

And with that she was off, pulling her head over her hair once more.


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Thinking about the cause of all the madness that had ensued since his casual stroll down a dirt road, to the rather fear striking escape he was about to undergo, he followed the woman who said she had a safe place to stay. He could feel soldiers close in with each step, and quickened his pace. Countless possible horrific outcomes flooded his mind as he considered what options he had.

"I didn't know just looking at some guy would cause this much trouble," he spoke up, more to himself than anyone else. Concentrating on what was happening around him, and especially the soldiers, if Ksenia were to look back at him she'd see some worry upon the foreigner's face. He gulped, having a deeper and more serious tone now, and steeled himself for the next moments.

"I'm not sure you know how much a safe place would mean to me right now, that is if you aren't pulling my leg. But before you go too far, I'm warning you that I have no money," Talmar told her, looking shiftily too the sides of the street. "I can explain more things later if you like, but..." he paused a moment, choosing his words carefully. "It's crowded."

As the two continued along their path, people looked confusedly at them. One moment, it was as if they were at each other's throats, and now they're walking away almost friends. However, their glances were interrupted as soldiers came to the intersection where Talmar had turned. The royal nephew was not late to tell everyone what went on.

"This man, he carried an axe and a sword," the boy began, dusting himself off as he stood before the soldiers. "After he quickly beat some brute around the corner, I offered him a job as a gladiator and he beat me for it, trying to say 'gladiator arenas are bad' and all that-"

"Which way did he go?" a soldier asked, going straight to the point.

"Down the street, that way," the adolescent pointed.


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#, as written by Modesty
Ksenia couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she wound her way through the crowd. The disdain was clearly audible as she replied, calling back to the man that was barely a foot behind her. Her quick strides were almost matched by his long ones, mentally noting that if push came to shove she wouldn’t be able to out run him.

“I don’t think it was the look so much as the boot to the face that caught attention.”

Her lithe form abruptly turned around a corner and down a narrow alley. It was a risk; if the soldiers caught up to them their it’d be impossible to escape, but the side street cut the distance in half and it was will worth the gamble. Sen didn’t bother to see if the stranger followed, though she could feel his shadow on her skin even as the sun faded from the sky. Another turn and they were back out on a busy road.

His next comment made her laugh, albeit mockingly. “Listen, hun. If I wanted to make coin it wouldn’t be for harboring illegals. And trust me, you want the crowds right now… the more people, the harder you’ll be to spot.”

The change in his tone wasn’t missed. The suspicion and secrecy to his words made Ksenia question the gravity of the situation. Was there more going on than harshly scolding a nobleborn? Had she bitten off more than she could chew? The magica pushed the thoughts from her mind, steeling herself to the path she’d decided on. She’d gotten herself out of bad situations before, this one would be no different.

Direction changed and halted. A wooden sign hung over a red door with letters spelling out ‘The Gilded Fox’. The entrance was low, though she passed in through it just fine. Those that were exceptional in height, like Talmar, would need to duck a little. Inside, however, had vaulted ceilings complete with rafters. Long wooden tables filled the establishment that was little more than a tavern, all of the stools of which were filled with patrons most of whom were too drunk to notice the new arrivals. Ksenia headed straight to the bar.

“Kens! Long time to see!” A blonde greeted cheerily.

“Sorry to cut this reunion short, Bec, but we need in the back.” Ksenia replied, sounding apologetic.

The blond wench allowed her eyes to shift to the large man that had accompanied her friend before returning to Ksenia. She frowned a moment before nodding, following Sen to a door on a back wall. Once the pair had ducked inside, a curtain was pulled across the wall to hide the entrance and it blended in like the rest of the booths and décor.

Ksenia side, resting against the wall, suddenly aware she was stuck in a room with a stranger that had just nearly beat a boy. Her chin raised a fraction of an inch, staring at the stranger with bright blue eyes.


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"I know it'd be easier to blend in, but that also means more people might get hurt."

As the two came to what was a tavern titled "The Gilded Fox," Talmar listened to the words his new found companion had to offer. His height a bit of an extraordinary trait of his, he leaned down so that he could walk into the building, and into the room Ksenia had secured for them in the back. For a moment, it seemed he could actually relax; taking his weapons of his hip, he let them lay on the floor away from him as he sat down with his back against the wall, his knees propped up and his arms resting on them.

Sitting down, Ksenia stared as if trying to figure out what exactly was going on. His aggression, swiftly followed by seriousness, complimented with remarks of needing a safe place for no money. Thinking about it, he could say that it was a bit confusing who are what he was and was doing. Talmar looked back, his azure eyes deepened and eye lids darkened from lack of sleep. His overall figure was rugged, but Ksenia could see now it wasn't that he was rugged, it was that he was worn down from his travels and all that have come along with it.

"So I'm sure you want to barrage me with questions," Talmar began, "ask me who are you? What's your name? Why are you beating children? Why are you being suddenly so serious? Why are you making things sound more serious than they seem to be? Where are you from? How old are you, and why was that a bigger deal earlier? And I'm sure the list goes on."

His voice was mundane, carrying on as if he anticipated this, or was even too tired to care. His eyes shifted away for a moment, pondering.

"But what's your name?"


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#, as written by Modesty
He was wrong. He was all wrong. The assumption caused Sen to roll her eyes; clearly he didn’t listen.

“None of that really matters. The less you know the easier it is around here.” She said, offering one more final lecture. And perhaps it was a warning too. Ksenia had a few secrets of her own of course, though those were rare to spill across her lips and rarer still were those that knew “This isn’t some epic the bards will sing about; you assaulted a highborn, I seriously doubt your age will matter.”

Her lips, plump, tugged into a smile. A soft laugh escaped. It was in that moment that the situation became all the more comical to her. Even her harsh words, though truthful, seemed funny to her somehow. Her head bent back, resting against the door that was hidden from the other side. She closed her eyes.

How do I always seem to get myself into these situations? She pondered. Life as a healer would have been all the more easy, and the curtsey she was awarded just for bearing the scar was testament enough to that. But that wasn’t her, that wasn’t her life. She had already accepted this and learned to play the cards that were dealt to her.

“Sen.” She replied, eyes snapping open and settling on the man. “Ksenia, that is.”

A name. What harm could a name do?

Outside she heard some noise; the sound of boots over the drunken crowd. The soldiers were searching the bar. Her finger rose, pressing to her lips in a sign for silence. Still, the crowd seemed to pay the guards no heed. She knew they were safe.


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As time went on, Talmar was not sure what to think of all that had gone on. He wasn't sure what to think of the man who tried to fight him in the street, or of how he beat the boy not so long ago, or what to think of how all soldiers around him were after him. It seemed as if Talmar was looking at Sen, when he was looking at nothing in particular, and it seemed his mind was being ripped apart slowly, then he closed his eyes.

Sensing where and what people were doing, he could see that the soldiers were gathering at the counter and asked Bec a few questions. Not wanting trouble, and trying to protect a friend of hers, she gave the soldiers the easiest answers she could, and the soldiers began walking out.

"They're leaving," he told Ksenia. Opening his eyes, he lazily let his head flop back against the wall, staring in a somewhat upward direction at the wall and ceiling. Soon after, the doors could be heard opening and closing, followed by a thicker air of silence. Talmar wasn't sure whether to speak or not. Were his words going to be welcomed? Was his situation going to be considered? Regardless, he thought he may as well tell Sen something she should know in her endeavors to protect him.

"Sen... you may think I'm insane, but..." he began in a low voice and with a tone of sincerity, taking his time to think for the appropriate words for what he was going to say. "Do you realize you're-" he continued, but stopped himself. It seemed as if he was itching to say it, but unsure of if it was the right time.

"I'm not looking for many people to know who I am. But I hope it comes out to be that we are not perpetually ruled by Artaz or his descendents."

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