[i]I walk on, once again, down these corridors, through these halls, these galleries, in this structure of another century, this enormous, luxurious, lugubrious palace, where corridors succeed endless corridors--silent deserted corridors overloaded with a dim, cold ornamentation of woodwork, stucco, moldings, marble, black mirrors, dark paintings, columns, heavy hangings, sculptured door frames, series of doorways, galleries, transverse corridors that open in turn on empty salons, rooms overloaded with an ornamentation from another century, silent halls... 


Between these walls covered with woodwork, stucco, moldings, pictures, framed prints, among which I was walking--among which I was already waiting for you, very far away from this setting where I now stand, in front of you, still waiting for the one who will no longer come, who will no longer threaten to enter these halls.  These halls, these galleries, in this structure of another century, this enormous, luxurious, lugubrious palace, where corridors succeed endless corridors…

Are you coming?[/i]

[color=D5B77A]“The Prophet?!”[/color] A voice called to him, rousing him from his flurry of thoughts. [color=D5B77A]“Ser Grey, by th’ gods! I ne’er thought I’d see th’ o’you here.”[/color] Alyosha Grey tore his focus away from the gloomy, centuries-old painting of an impossibly aged man; a painting of a notorious mage in his prime, before madness had consumed him. Alyosha hated being torn away from his musing. He turned to face the approaching guard. Before Alyosha could correct his mistaken identity, the man continued: [color=D5B77A]“You must be here on important business, else you wouldn’t’ve come s’far!”[/color] The Son of the Prophet shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, the movement veiled by his mask and hood. The guard pressed on: [color=D5B77A]“How’d you get in here, anyhow? Must’ve been in all th’ chaos, preparing for th’ festival.”[/color] Grey raised his hand with a gesture to silence the man, but he was ignored with enthusiasm. [color=D5B77A]“That must be wh’ brought you here! Come, come! I’ll take you t’ one o’ the counsel.”[/color] 

The guard indicated the direction of the Hall of Counsels with a gauntlet-clad digit before setting off in its direction. Finally, Alyosha was able to interject. [color=DBE6E0]“You are mistaken, Vem Kuniv, patrolman of the Thirteenth Regent Guard of the Vaaldian Palace.”[/color] The footfall stopped suddenly, and the guard cast him a weary glance. [color=DBE6E0]“I am the Son of the Prophet and the Faceless Mage, Alyosha Grey, Oracle of the Seven Swords and future-...”[/color]

[color=D5B77A]“Son o’ th’ Prophet, eh? I haven’t heard o’ th’ Prophet having any sons…”[/color] A mixture of confusion and thoughtfulness contorted Vem Kuniv’s face. [color=D5B77A]“But you do know my name, w’out me telling you about it… Unfortunately, son or not, I’m afraid I have t’ take you into custody. Tresspassing ‘n all.”[/color]

[color=DBE6E0]“I am here to see Crosos Granz, Golem and Knight of the-...”[/color]

[color=D5B77A]“I know who he is, Son o’ th’ Prophet.”[/color] There was an hint of mockery in the guard’s voice, or perhaps disappointment. [color=D5B77A]“Policy is policy. If it were up t’ me, you could waltz in ‘n out o’ th’ place ‘til your heart’s content but if th’ Captain found out, well…”[/color]

[color=778899]"Then it's a good thing the decision is out of your hands, Kuniv...as well as the Captain's,"[/color] came the Golem's echoing rasp, from a short way down the hall, along with a few nigh-thunderous footsteps. His eye lingered over them each, for a bare moment, before he continued. [color=778899]"Resume your rounds. If the boy has business with me, I'll tend to it personally."[/color] Crosos Granz sent him along with a wave of his hand, meeting little resistance. If he had to wager on it, Kuniv would be running to inform the others of what just happened; regardless of how minute it was. Such was the way of the Vaaldian Palace. Such was the way of life.

 [color=778899]"Alyosha Grey, eh?" [/color]The name [i]Grey[/i] was not uncommon in Deladish borders, when one considered things, but there were only a couple who bore it with the same air of mystery and aloofness as the Prophet. The Golem could see where the patrolman could have made his mistake; but the height difference between the two was immediately apparent, the difference in their voices, their stance. Granz had met with the Prophet, Savian Grey, more than a couple of times and had come to marvel at the things he had been told. [color=778899]"Seems to me like a son of the Prophet would do well to avoid being caught in places like this,"[/color] a lopsided grin accompanied the words, [color=778899]"but you carry the air of your bloodline about you, that much I can see."[/color]

 The Lunar Festival was fast approaching, but Granz could not bring himself to turn aside the Prophet's son; he had, after all, been warned that such an encounter would be inevitable. [color=778899]"Come, I've preparations to make and a fiendishly hungry god to appease,"[/color] the lopsided grin scraped against itself as the Golem let his face settle back into normality, [color=778899]"souls to send and a show to put on. I get the feeling that's why you're here."[/color] He led the way slowly, heading towards the quarters he had been granted long ago.

Alyosha dipped his head in gratitude, folding his hands neatly in front of him, smiling underneath his mask. [color=DBE6E0]“Your presumption is [i]mostly[/i] correct… As for being caught, well… You’re here exactly now, are you not?”[/color] His father had sent him here to honor the Lunar Festival, to bear witness to the Silver Glint; however this was also the beginning of a new chapter in his life. He longed to meet and guide heroes toward their Fate, to follow in the footsteps of his parents--both of them. It troubled him that their journeys began with the death of a hero: an ill omen to be certain.  [color=DBE6E0]“I have come to experience the unveiling of the tapestry here, to bear final witness to Elise, the Silver Glint, and…”[/color] Despite the amount of stoicism his mask entitled, he sounded distantly forlorn. [color=DBE6E0]“To bid farewell to my former mentor.”[/color]

He narrowed his eyes toward Granz thoughtfully, noting the golem’s lengthy, metallic stride and wide sauntering gait. Alyosha allowed them to walk in silence for a few moments; the air seemed to vibrate with information unsaid. Voices mumbled in the back of his mind, their voices just loud enough to hear but not understand. Inky secrets swirled at the corners of his vision. Blood pumped through his ears, tension swelled in his temples. A touch, a shiver, a whisper. [i]...enormous, luxurious, lugubrious palace, where corridors succeed endless corridors--silent deserted corridors...[/i] Alyosha closed his eyes. [i]...pictures, framed prints, among which I was walking--among which I was already waiting for you…[/i]

A hypnopompic jerk jolted him back into the present, chasing away visions that scrambled like spiders from a flame. Grey realized he had stopped, and took a few hurried steps to catch up. [color=DBE6E0]“Ser Crosos Granz, were you aware that we are the same age? Forty-nine summers we’ve shared.”[/color] He offered up the fact, hoping the golem might offer a hand in conversation. 

Crosos did not turn at the cessation of following footsteps, that much he had distantly expected. Clairvoyants were always a bit [i]off[/i] when it came to their social dealings, but the Golem would not fault him for it. Granz himself was something of an oddity in conversation, after all. [color=778899]"You owe her that much,"[/color] he turned a looming eye to the Oracle of Seven Swords as he started catching up, [color=778899]"as do the others."[/color] The last held true to the tone of the first, but the melancholy of day approaching night had metamorphosed into a muted dread. He was to swing the blade. To swing the blade and run.

  He let silence linger after Alyosha's question, [color=778899]"We're all saying goodbye, in our ways,"[/color] the Golem folded his arms and kept his stride even, [color=778899]"She taught you to swing a sword, yes? I imagine that would be quite a feat."[/color] More probably [i]mostly true[/i] presumptions. It mattered little, any conversation was light compared to the churning thoughts of Elise's final moments. [color=778899]"I've heard it said you wield them differently. That I'm curious to see."[/color] He smiled, albeit with wan effort, having an idea already of what that display would be like; and decided to quickly move on. Thankfully, the nigh-endless corridors of the Vaaldian Palace were fairly sparse with guard or passerby.

 [color=778899]"You know enough to come here, to seek me out. You know what awaits The Silver Glint. You already know that I am the one to be her executioner. In all my forty-nine years, I have never had to kill someone who is a part of me. Maybe the impact of death is meaningless for a creature made of metal. Perhaps it is by the grace of all the damned faces that I stand here. "[/color] The Golem had not raised his voice, but there was a pain that coursed through the words. [color=778899]"I do know that you intend to help, at least in what capacity you deem fit. You're here to guide-"[/color] he considered his choice carefully, [color=778899]"[i]us[/i],"[/color] it was an uncertainty, but one that felt it appropriate, [color=778899]"on the path that lies ahead."[/color]

[i]in collaboration with [@Crumbs][/i]