The elf seemed to fall into the tree, into Fla’vao, as if she was falling back into her natural state. The branches closed around her and the leaves formed a veil that helped her disappear. Syeena’s dress was camouflaged well by Fla’vao and her white hair faded into the sunlight shining through the branches.

Yalisphur caught herself gazing at the act, mesmerized by the cohabitation between the Prophet and Fla’vao. She had never seen her God interact with anyone in such a manner. What was so different about this alien elf?

The centaur shifted her legs beneath her to face the stone where her spear laid. She had to kneel so her hand could grasp the shaft. When she rose, the spear was equipped to her front waist. Yalisphur paused to look back at the resting face of Fla’vao which never seemed to move. But the face seemed more content than the last time she visited Fla’vao. Was this tree actually sentient?

She needed to return to Platad so they could restore and improve their defenses. Many of the totems at the entrance of the Weald had been destroyed and she thought it wise to erect them in the Grassills for further protection. She also didn’t want to be around when a Bellenar vessel would arrive.
____________________________________________________________________________________

A shadow encased Ma’vao’loth. It shrunk as the matte sheen of a metallic substance neared the ground. The Bellenar flagship had arrived for the resources they had requested.

The smiths and artificers from Belward traveled to Ma’vao’loth with excavated artifacts for which they had no use. Caravans were filled with ores mined from the Highills. Though they were less pure than the ores they kept for themselves, the Bellenar couldn’t know the difference. They weren’t permitted to inspect what was not brought for them. They weren’t even permitted to travel outside the capital proper.

But the Bellenar couldn’t complain for the free resources provided for them. Viragraf requested nothing more from Bellenar in return other than their absence and neutrality.

Veins of blue magic flowed through tubes which span in geometric patterns all across the entirety of the ship. This was how they made these vessels airborne and travel through the skies. Viragrafi just knew the magic to be a foreign substance that was prone to cause destruction to their lands. Though the Bellenari didn’t seem prone to using it aggressively nor against them, it was a threat on which Viragraf kept a close eye.

The Sunstrike was a trade vessel but primarily one of defense. Its captain was a kumi, a creature foreign to Viragraf. But Montigue, the leader of Belward, enjoyed conversing with them. They would discuss product, trades, and information of the outside world. He didn’t take this knowledge as fascination, however. He would publicize it so his people could prepare defenses against their enemies. They would treat Montigue’s information similarly.

“Captain Lockjaw,” Montigue greeted. The dwarf performed a bow which lacked the grace of other species. Regardless, it was a courtesy almost entirely unnecessary for the situation.

The kumi just nodded silently. The humidity of the Mountwoods in combination with the altitude made him physically uncomfortable.

One of the captain’s lieutenants approached the dwarf. The ainok was almost as tall as the kumi but much thinner. She was as feminine as the kumi was masculine. Her left arm was covered in a metallic sheet that erased any sense of natural organics. In fact, it looked as if the arm had been replaced. Montigue couldn’t help but stare at the anomaly.

She stuck her hands, or her right hand and her left contraption, onto her hips. The light blue trimming against the deep green fabrics of her uniform contrasted offensively against her fur. Still, she stood with pride knowing her affiliation while in a foreign territory. It was her first time to Viragraf and her first assignment as lieutenant.

“Montigue’vao,” she addressed, having learned the colloquial titles, “I am Lieutenant Shardshaw of Sunstrike.” She finished the greeting with a short bow.

The dwarf couldn’t tell if he should be amused or impressed by such a title.

“What can I do for you?” Montigue asked, still stifling a chuckle. He was curious as to the nature of this apparent meeting. Usually they’d just chat with each other.

“I request an audience with yourself and the other Vao’s.”

Montigue’s bushed brow arced high over his right eye. “I apologize, but I’m afraid that’s impossible on such short notice.”

“’Impossible’?” she echoed incredulously.

“Well, to be honest, Yalisphur prefers to keep from with the Bellenar and Chakaja hasn’t the time nor patience for such formalities. However, Hatash might be summoned to hear what you wish to relay.”

She thought it impressive the level of civility this dwarf presented. Rumors spread that the Viragrafi were only marginally more sophisticated than the Nakarans. It was true that Montigue was on his best behavior. But even then, their barbarism seemed only to describe their xenophobia.

“That should suffice,” the lieutenant said, seemingly unsurprised by the response. “Shall we?”

Again, he was intrigued by her demeanor. Initially she seemed insistent, but now she seemed to not mind.

Montigue led them to the heart of the citadel. He felt uncomfortable leaving the airship since he was supposed to oversee the shipment and departure. But he felt inclined to honor this request since they were otherwise silent of any complaints or additional requests.

“Hatash?” Montigue squeaked through the gates to the main room of the citadel. The wooden doors provided an unusual contrast to the white marble and limestone that made almost all parts of the complex.

There was silence at first. Montigue shrugged with a shy smile. The air was perfectly still as they waited.

“Enter,” a deep voice boomed from inside. “What do you need, Montigue?”

There was a tone of impatience in the voice. Neither could see from where it came. But they both entered and headed for the center of the room.

The ainok looked up and all around them. It wasn’t the intricate architecture found throughout Bellenar and its provinces, but there was a raw nature to it that betrayed the details of the moldings and the high ceilings and sleek lines. Pews and high-backed chairs were made of the marble as if it came up through the floor. It was as if the entire structure, including its furniture, was created from a single block of the mineral. Wooden beams stretched across the length of the ceilings. They were carved from a single tree that even bellenar could not grow to such a height. The faintest scent of damp stone with fresh-cut wood was almost too strong for the purified room. Despite the amount of natural sunlight, the gleaming white room didn’t blind her eyes.

A large elf, even taller than her, approached them from the left side of the room. He kept eyes on Lieutenant Shardshaw. His gaze was suspicious but his tone seemed friendly enough. His long white hair pulled only by a fine rope kept the front portion out of his face which was sharp and strong. Faded green markings were carved across his face, customary to the elves of Viragraf. He only wore an unbuttoned sleeveless white tunic to expose his trained arms and chest. The lack of modesty also exposed more of the faded green etchings which suggested they spanned the entirety of his body.

“And who is this?” he asked as he reached his arm out to properly greet his guest.

“Lieutenant Shardshaw of the Sunstrike and League of Bellenar.”

The whole title was largely unnecessary since he could easily tell that she was of the Bellenar League.

She shook his hand with impressive firmness. Hatash bowed his head as their hands released. “And why is it you need to see me?”

“I was ordered to meet with all the leaders of Viragraf, Vao’Hatash,” she began as a kind of sleight to the dwarf next to her. “But I was informed that such would be impossible.”

Hatash paused for a moment as he realized Montigue was the one who told her request could not be granted but couldn’t find the liberty to properly explain why.

“Alas, the Raldorans’ efforts to invade and pillage this land have seemed to improve in efficacy.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. Not due to what he said, but how he said it. He was even more articulate than the dwarf.

“Their last raid reached the boarders of our southern Kins’one of Platad. Due to this, extensive defensive measures are currently in progress to prevent an invasion from progressing further north. Yalisphur is working to extend the reach of her totems and Chakaja is working to prepare our troops for a more effective ousting of Raldorans.”

So what Montigue said before might have been true, but it seemed much more complex. However, she was already aware of the relations between Raldora and Viragraf.

“Very well, Vao’Hatash,” she said with a high bow. “However, it is that very reason I requested an audience with you.”

Hatash lifted a brow, intrigued with what she may propose to them.

“We would like to offer resources so you may better defend against Raldora and the increasing threat of the Escolan Church.”

Montigue’s eyes widened, knowing exactly what he was going to say and also knowing he’d have to walk back to the lieutenant’s airship with her.

“The offer is acknowledged but declined,” he said with a slight grin of either appreciation or amusement.

Shardshaw’s eyes and brows danced in confusion for a moment. She didn’t know what she should say. Press the offer? Accept the resignation and leave? Inquire further as to the nature of the decline?

“The captains often do this to new lieutenants,” he confessed with a corner of his mouth pursed in sympathy. “I’m  not sure if it’s a courtesy or a joke, but this offer is often extended to us.”

Her eyes continued to dance in confusion. A touch of rage sparked in her. She blinked and it was extinguished.

“Thank you very much for the visit, Lieutenant Shardshaw, but I must get back.”

Regardless of his cryptic farewell, he took the ainok’s hand in another firm handshake. He then turned to disappear from where he initially approached.

When the elf faded into the shadows of the room covered in white, Shardshaw’s whole body began to fill with shame and frustration. It seemed Montigue knew this and tried to comfort her.

“I believe the Bellenar have  good intentions, Lieutnenant. I think they do this so relations between us remain positive.”

She just glared at the dwarf before leaving the room aggressively which matched her mood. The pads of her feet almost clicked with intensity against the floor. Montigue sighed.

Vines hugged the walls and ensnared the edges of the open windows. Without panes, there was an impression that there was no real worry about weather. Perhaps there never was adverse weather here. It seemed nature worked with the architecture rather than being masked by it. It was subtle, but the craftsmanship of the walls and the masonry of the limestone bricks proved there was a reverence for the world in which they lived. The floors beneath her feet alternated from enlarged brickwork to massive slabs of the minerals. Wooden beams continued to frame the structure, but a skilled architect could tell that these were largely ornamental since they wouldn’t be able to hold up ceilings or walls should the structure crumble.

Lieutenant Shardshaw felt her departure from the citadel much longer than when she was led here. [i]Am I lost?[/i] she would repeat to herself. Everything around her seemed familiar, but it could be a trick of the uniformity of the structure. The smell of heavy humidity grew stronger in the stairwells. Perhaps it was trapped, but she took it as a sign of nearing the exit.

She hadn’t noticed until now, but there was no one in the citadel. Only her own breathing echoed eerily throughout the corridors. There were no stewards or guards. There seemed to be no inhabitants for which to serve or protect, anyway. What was this structure’s purpose if not to house the natives of this continent?

Her breath escaped her in shock when she reached the main gates to the citadel. Montigue’s back was against a corner of the massive opening. His arms were crossed in patience, or was that impatience? A hand stroked his long beard which actually appeared youthful over his chin. She only noticed now how well-groomed he was, having only focused on his stature and civility up to this point. Despite his trade as a blacksmith, his clothing complimented his skin and hair well. Taking a step back, she looked less put-together than him.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” Montigue said as he inspected his nails for blackness. “I want you to meet someone. Would you please follow me?”

He was polite enough, but she needn’t his pity. She was matured enough to cope with embarrassment. But this didn’t seem like a trick to her. However, she knew hardly little of the tendencies of the Viragrafi. So she followed with a shorter and slower pace to match the dwarf. Even from behind he was handsome. He didn’t look like a child at all. He was strong and confident. But that could just be the nature of the waddle in his walk.

Small trees lined their walk. They had been planted last season and to which were still tended fondly. As they proceeded, vines stretched from the citadel and into the trees, which were taller than those they’d just passed. Then ornate flowers bloomed not just from the ground but through trees and off walls. Colors assaulted her eyes with their vibrant beauty. She found herself slowing her pace to absorb all she could. The brick path upon which they followed turned into soft dirt against her awareness. It hugged her toes each step she took, making it more difficult to continue following the dwarf and not basking in the splendor of nature she’d never experienced before.

“This is Fla’vao,” Montigue said, interrupting her awe.

She looked up to a face in a massive tree. Blossoms bloomed in any color and vines draped the branches like light green veils. Roots broke through the ground enough and in such a manner for stools and even benches to be pretended. It all looked so orchestrated, purposeful. There was an intention to be overwhelmingly gorgeous. Despite this, it looked so natural, informal.

She couldn’t summon words appropriate for meeting a deity. She’d originally believed them to be zealous as the Escolan for a tree. But gazing upon it now, she understood their reverence for this being.

“She is the reason for our seclusion. Well,” he thought how best to correct himself, “She’s the reason we feel we don’t require intervention from others. She protects us and has protected us since the end of the ancient empire. She has preserved us and so we preserve her. We’ve been shown that others don’t share the same opinion.

“I see,” Shardshaw yipped quietly and low after a pause.

She needn’t argue the opinion. It proved itself valid enough. Bellenar cared little for tradition and suppoied their own protection. Raldora and Nakar, both, wouldn’t mind seeing the continent in flames. Escolan wanted the Empire back and this tree proved an obstacle.

“But we are nearing a turning point in the world’s history. A Prophet has arrived from another existence. Possibly from Fla’vao, herself.”

“Why does that signify a ‘turning point’?”

“She’s here to preserve Fla’vao. That means our own efforts aren’t enough.”

There was another moment of silence between them. She could hardly comprehend what what the dwarf was saying as she continued to eye the tree-God.

“Something significant is on the horizon. Pay attention and be careful.”
_____________________________________________________________________

Whistles preceded the explosions. Yalisphur did all she could to naturalize the cannon fire, but the assault was more intense than she’d expected. They weren’t just firing cannon balls, either.

Centaurs and elves formed a line along the shore. An invisible wall prevented most of the blasts from explosions from reaching the soldiers crowded in front of them. More elves were among the leonin mass, ready to keep the Raldorans from proceeding any further inland than the Glassands. Yalisphur could already tell that this initial attempt on their own part was futile. But Chakaja was preparing for a full assault at Platad. He was right to station scouts at the southern coast of the continent. This was going to be a comment to the Raldorans. They would not allow those pests to irritate them anymore.