The gardens of Zelemoyod were known for being fabulously extravagant.  Swaths of strange tropical plants and sweeping arrays of multicoloured flowers were placed artfully in planters and constantly attended to.  Fountains and braziers crafted by magicians could preform without any system of circulation or maintenance.  Even as winter arrived and snow coated the rest of the city, walls of glass were raised around the gardens and they were painstakingly maintained by skilled magicians that created a constant layer of heat to keep the plants alive and thriving.  Only the house of Virtanen, one of the most ancient and powerful families of shadow elves, could consistently afford to expand and maintain the gardens in their capital city.  They paid for this exuberance with their many plantations in the south of the country, where slaves toiled in their fields and mines to produce the vast wealth that was then squandered on flowers and magical fountains.  Rosiland was a land of regular such contrasts.

A woman in a fine dress sat on a stone bench in the magnificent gardens, surrounded by exotic flowers that she tended to carefully.  Her clothing was made of soft wool and sable fur, with intricate golden designs playing across the black fabric.  Her hair, too, was interwoven with shining metal and polished coins that chimed as she turned her head.  On her face she wore a mask of polished wood that was coloured the same as her skin.  The woman was a shadow elf, and she sat in the garden that bore her families crest.  She tenderly plucked a leaf from one of her many plants, crushing it in her hand and letting it fall to the floor.  The elf sighed.

“Your excellency, the delegation has arrived.”  Another elf, dressed in similar but decidedly inferior clothing, spoke from behind a curtain of hanging wisterias.  She nodded, waving the servant away with a nervous flick of her wrist.  The vague sound of opening doors could be heard, and then the click of boots on a polished floor.  The elf stood up, clasping her hands together and reviewing herself in a reflecting pool behind her seat.  She looked as presentable as one could expect, given her current situation.  Before she could linger on her appearance any longer, her visitors passed through the hanging flowers.

There were three of them in total.  All of them wore plated mail of similar quality, but the question of their leader was instantly clear.  The woman at the head of their delegation looked moved with hawkish confidence, and settled into an entirely severe expression as she entered the meeting grounds.  The two behind her were recognizable for their movement as well, as robotic and distinct as it was.  Religious-soldiers, from the mountains of the eastern lands.  The chamberlain that had lead them into the gardens raised his voice.  “You are now in the presence of Volikova Irina Virtanen, daughter of Masher Valerian Virtanen, the lady of Zelemoyod and all estates subordinate, rightful heir to the highest seat of the elven table, first ruler of the true race and all others inferior.”  The chamberlain now turned to Volikova, bowing deeply.  None of the foreigners did the same.  Without missing a beat, the noble servant rose and continued with his introductions.  “Your excellency, this is Azima on the Path, High Zealot of Sindhus.”  Volikova nodded and dismissed the chamberlain as another servant entered with a sliver platter carrying a bottle of wine and accompanying glasses.  The Virtanen sat down, prompting the High Zealot to do the same.  The [i]Sindisi[/i] elected to stand.

“Your holiness, it is a true pleasure to host you in glorious Zelemoyod."  Voilkova delicately removed her mask, placing it on the bench beside her.  "I am glad you arrived safely.  Would you care for some sort of beverage?  After such a long journey through our angry seas, you must be parched.  Some spiced wine to warm your soul?”

The High Zealot shook her head slowly.  “I do not partake.”

Volikova smiled cordially and poured herself a glass of wine.  “I understand.  A holy commander such as yourself must be very busy these days, now that the throne of Sindhus sits without a monarch.  Protecting the faith, the country, and your own armies…  It must be a relatively exhausting affair.  No time for such trivialities, I suppose.”  The shadow elf shrugged inconsequentially.  “I must also say, I am heavily interested in your curious religion.  I’ve been reading much of your scripture, and as complex as it can be, I believe I am learning much from it.  We have our own Signal on the Path here in Zelemoyod - did you see it on your way in?”

Azima looked unimpressed.

The shadow elf tapped her glass awkwardly.  The easterner was obviously not one for small talk.  “Let us cleave to the matter at hand, then.  Rosiland is in a terrible state of decay and chaos.  My house was once the undisputed leader of this land, both in terms of influence and wealth.  We lead the High Table that unified the great families and provided stability and profit for all.  Now, these golden days have been abandoned in favour of infighting and withdrawal.  The humans that dwell under our banner are on the verge of separation, slaves free themselves and form barbaric war-bands that plague the countryside, and my fellow elves have abandoned my rightful claim in favour of a parade of imposters and replacements.”  She raised her chin in an attempt to appear stoic.  “Azima, your father and my father were steadfast allies.  Now that this misfortune has befallen my house, those that I called friends have left me like rats fleeing a sinking ship.  As was dictated by the past agreement created by our noble fathers, the nation of Sindhus and the house of Virtanen are true confederates.  You are my last ally.”

“Our fathers are dead.”  The High Zealot shook her head.  “Their [i]informal[/i] agreement died with them.  I am not bound by law to support your claim, and as such, I see no reason to.  Your estates are in a state of ruin after the crusaders razed them, and your army is spent for the same reason.  Based on my most recent reports, your army is hardly capable of capturing a grain store, never mind the country.  Your vaults are empty and at least a third of your slaves have been freed.”  She frowned thinly.  “If I should like to find an ally in Rosiland, I would look to the other great families who now emerge to usurp you.  They are the true power now.”

Volikova pursed her lips, attempting to contain her visible disgust.  “The upstarts in Rvymoyod that would have the audacity to call themselves great have [i]no right[/i] to my seat at the High Table.  They circle like vultures, breaking their oaths of support and instead relishing our downfall.  Some of them even supported the slave revolts that swept through and continue to devastate our plantations."  Her hands curled into fists.  “House Virtanen will reign again, and all those that detracted will be punished.  I ask you for your support in this endeavour.”

“Your family is incompetant.”  Azima waved her hand, gesturing to the many servants and mages that milled about the gardens just out of earshot.  “You maintain this place of flowers and fancies, but not an army large enough to defend your lands?”  She shook her head.  “The only reason your house even stood a chance against the crusaders was the support that the east provided.  I would find it easier to personally conquer the whole of Rosiland  than support your attempt in the matter.”

The shadow elf set her drink down.  “You would not.”

Azima smiled without mirth.  “Oh?”

"We elves are a proud and stubborn race, and the vast majority of us consider your kind to be..."  Volikova paused for a moment, attempting to find the right words.  "...inferior in many ways.  Your governance would be accepted for a time, but it could not last.  Rosiland would never bow to a human.  After all, if a rabid dog walks into your home, do you let it assume control, or do you merely wait for it to turn its back so you can simply hit it with a stick?”

The High Zealot didn’t respond, but her expression made it clear that her patience was wearing thin.

“Not that I meant to compare you to a hound, my friend.”  The shadow elf sighed.  “It is true, what you say.  Virtanen estates were burned, our armies decimated, and my family massacred.  My great house was decimated.  As you fought the crusaders in the desolate fields of Iurusolym, so did I resist them in these lands.  One by one my siblings, my parents; all of them were slaughtered by the sanctified mob that touted around the countryside.  When they finally left, I was the sole heir to these devastated lands.”  Volikova’s voice was lined with venom.  “But there will come a time when they are not so strong, when their own holy vultures begin to circle.  And at that time, when Rosiland is united under my banner, I will come to see vengeance be done.”

A spark of interest flickered in Azima’s steely eyes.

“For the sake of our fathers,”  Volikova eyed the easterner willfully.  “bring your legions to Rosiland.  Assist me in crushing my enemies and seizing my rightful seat at the High Table.  Once I am solidified in my position, I shall be your steadfast ally in all matters.  Your armies will be given free and open passage through Rosiland, and your merchants and tradesman shall be elevated above all other sort."

Azima was silent for a short period, considering all that had been said.  “If you will recognize the authority of Sindhus over the whole of Rosiland, I will give you a crown to rule it in my stead.”

Volikova narrowed her eyes.  “There is no crown you can give me, Azima.  The High Table is a council, not a throne.  Besides, I find it rather insulting that would attempt to lower me - the last daughter of Virtanen - to a client in service of your empire.”

“I don’t care about the High Table.  The system has failed, obviously.  The crusaders crippled Rosiland in months despite your armies being far larger and numerous.  The blue knights tore a violent path through the entirety of your grasslands and your entire race was powerless to stop them.  This land must be united and ruled, not shared between vindictive houses.”  The High Zealot continued as if her deal had already been accepted.  “You will have full autonomy and the protection of Sindhus.  The slaves that rebelled will be found and desolated.  The other families that slighted you will be crushed.  The crusaders will not dare to attack your estates.  Rosiland will prosper under the standard of Sindhus, and your ambitions will be realized with my steel.”

Volikova said nothing for a long while, stunned into silence.  “I will be Queen of Rosiland?”

“Undisputed.  Your rivals in Rosiland will bow to your rule, or they will bow before an executioner.  Virtanen will be a strong name once more.”

The shadow elf nervously fidgeted with her fingers.  She would be undermining tradition and religion if she accepted, but if she didn’t, she would never get the chance to make the other families pay for their many transgressions against her great family.  She would be giving up her nation, putting an end to thousands of years of self-determination, but in turn, she would instantly be made the most powerful figure in Rosiland.  Second only to the Sindhusi, she supposed, but the humans would never stay in Rosiland permanently.  The desert-people would go back to their sea of sand, and she would unquestionably rule in their absence.  She could take her vengeance on all that had wronged her, all that had turned their backs when she needed them most.  Rosiland would be awash with the hot blood of traitors and conspirators.  

Volikova looked upwards, her decision finally made.  “Very well, Azima.  I shall rule for you.”

The High Zealot smiled thinly.  “Good.  I will travel to Zayditrah, where my fleet is already preparing to bring my legions across the sea.  I will lead them here while you are busy spreading news of your new claim to all that will listen.  There are many faithful in this land, elves that believe in the Flame as fiercely as I do - they will be your first supporters.  Reach to them as a starving man grasps for a meal.  In fact, it would be best if you publicly renounced your false gods.  Tell the public that Dolekar has abandoned them.”  

Volikova was not disturbed at the idea of forgetting her traditional religion, not now that it couldn’t assist her influence. “I will do that.  Proclamations will be posted at every Signal on the Path from here to Rvymoyod.”

“Then I welcome you as my sister, and promise that Sindhus will do the same.“  The High Zealot stood, calling both her guards to attention.  “I expect your own forces gathered when I return.  We will march immediately.”

The shadow elf stood and respectfully approached the High Zealot.  “Excuse me, but wouldn’t it be best if we spent some time consolidating our power?  What if the western kingdoms decide to intervene as you have?”

The High Zealot frowned at the mere suggestion.  “Indecision is the death of victory.  We will march, and if the west interferes, we will march through them.”  With that, she brushed past Volikova and through the gardens, following swiftly by her dutiful [i]Sindisi[/i].