Makings of a Monster

The council of the Iron Throne was holding an important meeting. Reiltar Anchev sat there as well, his strong, savage body and towering height, but his manners and posture still refined by riches and years of being in charge making him radiate natural authority. Not many people knew the man well, but his ambition and ruthlessness went not unnoticed by anyone. He was no sniveling nepotist: if anything, he was harsher to his adopted son than to anyone else. He could radiate confident charm if he so wished, but anyone with longer contact with the man knew better than to oppose him if it wasn't a matter of life and death. Of course, sometimes it was in an organisation like the Iron Throne. Reiltar still was the one who had the life.

The door was suddenly slammed open, and an agitated Sarevok Anchev barged in. The boy was fourteen years old now, and growing up fast. His height was still no match for his stepfather's, and his body didn't have the bulk like Reiltar's, but he had wiry, bulging muscles, speed and agility of a dangerous predator, and it was obvious that this was just the very beginning. He already wore an impressive assortment of battle scars, and his voice had started to sound rather deep, and it was anyone's guess how deep it would indeed be, once the boy would reach his full glory.

- "Father! You must come home at once! Winski is ill and I don't know what's wrong with him!" The boy didn't seem to pay attention to his surroundings. His startling, amber-golden eyes were fixed into the pale brown ones of his stepfather, burning with anxiety.
- "We are rather busy here, Sarevok. I also didn't hear you knock." Reiltar's voice was seemingly calm, but the menace was lying under it, and his neck sinews started to bulge, barely visibly.
- "Oh screw that! Didn't you hear what I just said? Winski is ILL!"
Reiltar banged his fist at the table so that the other council members didn't help flinching.
- "So he got himself a flu or something. Have Jelena make a cup of tea or whatever for all I care. We REALLY don't need to discuss this here, in front of these people. They have something more important to think about."
- "You... b..mh. I mean, he's vomiting BLOOD! He shakes and won't hear me!" Sarevok was almost crying, doing his best to hide it.
- "Do I look like a cleric to you? Have the cow of a mother of yours do something about it. I have more important things to do!"
- "Of course she has already tried! She doesn't know magical healing, you know that! And I don't have money to pay a cleric, don't you think I already would have!"
- "Sarevok. Your tone seriously lacks respect. We are in a public place, I remind you. Go home. The old bastard certainly doesn't die that easily, or if he does, there are other mages for hire." It obviously took Reiltar a great effort to sound as calm as he did.
- "No! You must come! I insist!"
- "Sarevok. If you don't go home right now, and stay in your room waiting for me once I come, at my own time, when all my important things are taken care of, you will really regret it. And not just you. Winski, or what remains of him, and especially your mother, who obviously has given you the idea that you can behave like this. I seriously suggest that you go. Right now." Reiltar had fixed his eyes to Sarevok's. The boy went through a massive inner struggle, his fists twitching, then nodded and turned around, storming away.
Reiltar eyed his stunned colleagues and made a humorless, awkward grin.
- "Kids. No respect to their elders no matter how you bust your butt for them," he casually remarked.
- "Perhaps he has a point? It does sound rather bad," suggested one of the men, very timidly.
- "Bah. Mages are basically commodities. What would this place become if we interrupted our meetings every time a servant gets a sneezing fit? I'm sure the kid is just exaggerating," replied Reiltar, and so they went on with the meeting.

Sarevok, in tears, told the news to Jelena, who was trying to tend to the semi-conscious Winski. The man was shaking violently, his skin had an almost green glow to it, and he was too weak to lift his head between the nauseous fits. The vomit was sickeningly yellow, and it had traces of blood in it. Jelena looked horrified and grave.
- "First and foremost he needs water. We can't let him dry up. But he can't swallow, and even if he did, he'd throw it up right away." She was contemplating the alternatives, while Sarevok was bawling like a small child, not feeling any embarrassment about it.
- "I... I... who could possibly help us? Allonia? But I don't even know where she is! And she... makes people dead rather than the other way around."
- "Don't you know any cleric from the... Throne?" Jelena made the closest of snarl she was capable of when speaking the last word.
- "Not many. There's Ledia but she is... rather... not very... I mean.... oh, screw it, she's an idiot! And she can't cast any good spells for healing people. And I bet she'd want to ask a permission of Reiltar and not do it if it didn't make a... favorable impression!" Sarevok was a lot better in snarling than his mother was.
There was a moment of tense silence. Jelena held a sponge on Winski's lips, and squeezed it. She gently turned his head upwards so that some of the liquid would pour in.
- "If... if I went to all the temples and just begged them to help us? Or kill them if they don't?" mused the desperate boy.
- "Honey. This is Sembia. And you can't just kill everybody if they don't do what you want. Anyway, it wouldn't do Winski any good." Jelena was grave and sorrowful.
- "Besides, Reiltar told you to wait in your room. It will be very bad if you don't obey him in that at least," she continued. "You can't help Winski now. I promise he won't die because of you being in your room. He breathes, and his heart beats. I will continue squeezing water into his mouth. I promise that if he dies in the meantime, it is nothing you could have done something about. "
Sarevok stood insecurely a moment, bawling openly, then hugged his mother deeply. He held Winski's hand for a time, then crouched and whispered to his ear.
- "Winski. I love you so... I always hoped you were my father and not him. Please don't die..." He hoped Winski heard. His face did seem to twitch a little. His head downcast, Sarevok walked to his room to wait for Reiltar to come home. Perhaps he would take the situation more seriously once he actually saw how Winski was.