Lord Zee
Vec
Rekkuza
Iwannabeyours
princess
Cmmelody
Necrodancer
ActRaiserTheReturned
TimemasterThe mood of the flight was far from what one would expect. There was joy, cheering and overall excitement. In the vanguard flew the Drake Lords, led by their very own Dragon Princess. The dangerously beautiful Elyria. Who was enjoying the flight on top of her drake, Ancalegon. The largest of the drakes. With eyes closed and arms outstretched she could feel how the wind carried him. Under her she felt the hot air of his every breath. Such was the bond of the Drakestone Sorcerers and it far transcended what bond most had with their steeds. They were approaching their destination now. Sanc Valatir. Kalon’s great city, guarding the pass. Elyria had never seen the great city with her own eyes. Only models on the map-tables. Acalegion dropped lower and lower, as commanded by Elyria. But the temperamental drake did release his low, rumbling roar filling the pass. Announcing his arrival. The Dragon Princess couldn’t help but smile. Well, she had to give Kalon a warning they were close some way.
Below her, a small band of spread apart carts were walking through the pass. Often pulled by a slow donkey. In front of each cart, a rather old individual led it, holding himself up with a stick. Surrounded with 2 or 3 more people. All dressed in solemn, black robes. The carts were covered with simple cloth and carried simple things. Stale bread, some dried meat, water, tents. But should any guard listen very carefully, they'd hear the clanging of iron as well.
As it came into view, the city of Sanc Valatir seemed at first to be a pair of peaks peak jutting out of a plateau. The very tops of the Valatirine Sanctum, the Exarch’s keep, and the Eyrie, the headquarters of the storied Tithing, were the first things to peek over the landscape, and she caught sight of pillars of smoke soon after. The city’s great walls came after, and soon the roofs and walls of the buildings—mostly thatch and wood, but some were vaulted stone. As her horizon moved beyond the city, she saw them—several large fires, spewing smoke into the air. A clear signal for them to land.
The end of a short but enjoyable journey was in sight. Never in her life had Elyria ever flown so far out of Makania. So she marveled at everything she saw. Soon they were over the city. Casting winged shadows over the streets and roofs. Back in Makau, the people would have looked up to see what could cast it. But Elyria assumed that, with the Tithing being here, the people would be used to wings and shade. As she got closer to the landing city, the excitement of the fleet grew. The drakes were silent through the whole flight. But now, feeling the anxiousness in their riders, started to release their low, thunderous roars as they flew over the city and by the Eyrie. The loud rumbling incited the wyverns in tow and soon the whole fleet erupted in savage, thunderous growls. Which in turn enticed the riders to yell and cheer.
Elyria decided that landing the normal way would be far too boring for the excitement of the fleet. Instead, she kept her altitude. Only to roll into a dive at the last second. Ancalegon flew straight through one of the pillars and opened his wings to break the fall. The black clouds first entirely enveloped the drake, only to be blast apart by its wings’ blast of air. Not so gently and gracious to slammed itself into the ground below. Rival drakes and riders all followed suit. Diving from the air and trying to land on a spot that was still free. Elyria unhooked herself off her saddle and crawled off Ancalegon. Coughing a little due to the smoke, yet still cheering on her drake lords as they came down.
Swiftly all drakes had landed and the smaller wyverns were following suit. Elyria turned towards the nearest servant of Sanc Valatir. “Would you be a dear and lead me to Kalon? I assume he’s expecting me?” There was an odd amount of playfulness in her voice. As if she wasn’t marching for war but a party. She was even partially dressed the part. With pieces of silk cloth fluttering around her. Artfully attached to her leather riding suit. Her drake, behind her, roared once more. It was a different roar from back one from in the air, Elyria instincts sensed it. So she added: “Oh and you might want to bring a few cows or horses.”
The servant was dressed in a green tunic belted at the waist, and who wore a knee-length black cloak with silver trim along both sides of all its edges. If he took umbrage with the manner the Dragon Princess addressed his liege, it did not visibly show. “I would presume, then,” he said, “that you are the Dragon Princess Elyria? As it turns out, his grace sent me to bring you to him as soon as you arrived.. He is currently visiting with the Priesthood of the Waters, and so we shall not need to tarry long within the streets.” He turned, and the billowing of his cloak afforded Elyria a brief glimpse of a blade at his side, before he stopped. He turned his head to speak to her again. “Ah, yes, and some men should be arriving with food for the drakes shortly. His grace did not mention it, but I would imagine that he would be fine with you inspecting the food we have stored up for your drakes and wyverns in the General Warehouses. It should be enough to last until war begins, at which point they can feast on the bounty of Charce, but I see no harm in you investigating the matter personally.
Elyria merely nodded when the servant, or she assumed he was a servant, asked if she was the Dragon Princess. She was quite fond of the title, even though she didn’t ride a dragon. Sometimes Elyria questioned if they even existed anymore. They were creatures of pure legend. Still, her drakes were real enough and Ancalegon could probably pass for a dragon to anyone who never saw one before. Then she spotted the blade. So he wasn’t a servant after all. Unlike him, Elyria didn’t carry any weapons. Not even a knife. Her mastery over fire magic was strong enough to defend herself. Beside, she wouldn’t imagine what her drake would do if he discovered she died.
The comment about the inspection came somewhat unexpected. She rarely inspected anything really. Even back in Drakestone Ridge. The stewards and servants, gifted by nobles mostly, were well-versed in management. The fortress was quite self-governing. Which left the drake lords with plenty of time to study and explore the bonds with their drakes. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll just take your word for it.” she said rather sheepishly. In truth, she didn’t really know how to ‘inspect’ a warehouse. What would she have to look at?
The stone walls of the city curved slowly around to their right, every so often bulging into tower that stretched beyond the walls. In time, they reached the gates of the city, which were open, and saw what was unmistakably one of the Grave Keepers discussing something with a man who wore a cloak much alike to the one worn by the man who had come to greet Elyria.
Elyria was very much in awe with the massive walls. They reminded her of Makau’s. But something was amiss. They were as deeply scarred as the walls back home. Makau was besieged many times over. A great many warlords tested their siege engines against the solid stone. Time and time again gaps had to be filled and repaired. The walls of Makau had their own scars. The awe kept her silent for now, as she attentively looked at the walls and towers. At the gate, one of the Black Knights was discussing something with the guard there. For a moment, Elyria felt a little disappointed. Did Kalon just send a common guard to fetch her?
“Egeron of the Grave Keepers.” the man greeted the guard at the gate. Not even casting a glance towards the drakes and wyverns landing. Like all Grave Keepers that would pass, he offered a scroll sealed with black wax. The seal had the form of a snake eating its own tail, encircling an hourglass. The letter would be simple but straightforward. They were summoned to the city by their High-Priest. It also detailed why: a summons was called and the oath they swore would not be broken. The Black Knights would answer the call. They were to gather at Sanc Valatir, so the Priests packed up and started their long or short journey. Egeron was in a nearby village, just beyond the northern part of the pass. “Do tell me, my dear: where is your cemetery. I’m afraid I’ve never visited your fair city. Oh and the inn as well. I fear my novices might not yet be able to trade bed for stone.” Egeron was an old Priest now. Or he looked like one. With only flimsy wisps of hair falling from his scalp. His deep, bruised eyes looked as if he was either permanently exhausted or recently fought. His voice was thin like paper.
Taking the scroll from Egeron, the servant of Kalon broke the seal to read it. Finding that all was as the old man had told him, he looked up from the parchment and said, “We bury our dead on the north side of the walls. Follow the path round that way,” he gestured with one arm off to his right, “and take the first split off to the left. The nearer the graves are to the city, the older they are, if that makes any difference to you.” He produced some sort of stamp from beneath his cloak, pressed its mark into the parchment, and handed the scroll back to Egeron. “You’ll want to show this to the graveminders—they’re the folks who keep a watch over the graveyard. They’ll have been briefed more about what you folks do, and it’s all cleared. You just need to show that to them so they know you are who you say you are.” He placed the stamp back where it had been. “There are actually a few inns in the city that your Novices might want to stay at. I’ll call some of my subordinates over, and they’ll be able to get them settled.”
Egeron smiled like most weary, old man smiled. His novices, almost relieved to hear the news, rushed inside the city. Towards the prospect of a warm bed. Only Egeron and his apprentice remained. The apprentice already ushered on the donkey to go towards the graveyard. Egeron almost went on his way. But something stopped him. He looked at the guard for a moment and then said: “Do visit your grandparents, will you? If I have to, it will be too late.” After those words, he was off.
As soon as they could see through the gates, they could see the Great Baths, the marble edifice of which seemed to almost glow.
As they passed through streets and plazas, pedestrians parted to let them through. Though their gazes inevitably fell Elyria, they seemed to hang on her guide before they noticed her—though they did inevitably notice her.
They passed near enough to the speaking heralds to hear what they were saying, and all of them bore a similar refrain: the Drakestone Sorcerers, servants of the Exarch Alexander of Makau, had just arrived.
When they reached the doors to the Great Baths, Elyria’s guide approached one of the men guarding the door, who was dressed differently from the other guards she’d seen.
“His grace is expecting us.” This was all he said, and the guard immediately turned and entered the door ahead of them.
Elyria simply followed the man into the baths. Those legendary baths. Elyria fashioned herself a Vilespawn Slayer and back home, few could dispute that claim. Mounted on her drake she could fly from cave to cave, filling them with scorching fire. She couldn’t capture the malevolent spirits, that was true. But it was their material form that she could keep at bay. But now she stood in the temple dedicated to those who didn’t just kill them. These people had made it their life’s mission to not just slay them, but to capture the spirits. A bit struck by the building, she said: “I do hope I can come back here, after the war.”
The man who had guided Elyria here from where she had landed fell into step behind her as she entered the Great Baths, muttering under his breath—Elyria could make out the words “grace,” and “arrived.” After that, he was wholly silent.
At her comment, the priest guiding them turned to her with a smile on her face, and said, “We would be glad to have you as our guest.”
They wound their way through the corridors, the walls and vaulted ceiling built from the same type of marble as the Bath’s exterior, lit by sconces that hung just above their heads. They passed a number of robed members of the Priesthood of the Waters, each of whom nodded their head in greeting, and stood to the side to let them past. They passed several doors, some leading to the public baths, some to yet more corridors. In time, they came upon a large set of double doors made, it seemed, from lacquered mahogany.
The priest turned to them and said “Exarch Kalon and the Archcurate are currently speaking within the Inner Sanctum. I will tell them that–” But he was unable to finish his sentence, as the doors began to open. He jumped, just a little, with a look of surprise on his face, but that fell away and he looked back at the man who had first greeted Elyria, who stood behind her, and nodded when he met the priest’s gaze.
The doors parted, two men stepped out. One, on what was Elyria’s right, was large, balding, and wore a more ornate fashion of robes than the other priests she had seen so far. The other, on her left, was tall, dressed in a heavy gambeson, and wore a polished, almost-featureless mask over his face—the Exarch, Kalon.
He’s masked. Always. With a heavy cloak that will look a bit too heavy on a hot summer afternoon. Trust me, you will know who Kalon is when he speaks. Back In Makau, Elyria thought this to be enough. Masked, heavy robed and speaks with a certain gravity. Now she stood before him, Exarch Kalon and the only thing she could think of was: how ordinary he looks. He’s just a man wearing a mask. Of course, Alexander was the same. Yet, as a mage, she felt he was something beyond simply a man. Magic swirled around him. Before you enter a room with him, you can sense the air thick with mana. But that was Alexander’s aura as Exarch of Sorcery. Kalon did not seem to possess the same aura. In fact, she thought he could easily be mistaken for a common man.
Now, does she bow for him? She doesn’t even bow for Alexander but that’s because they were friends. Would she bow for an Archon? Yes, yes she would. But she didn’t bow for her own Exarch, so why should she bow for another? Instead, she swiftly fidgeted with a hardened leather cylinder on her belt and extracted a scroll, sealed with the shiny blue wax. The symbol was that of Makau: seven stars and a sickle moon. The scroll would say the usual, that the Drakestone Sorcerers came to aid the assault on Lesmania. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” She said, as she handed over the scroll. Formal enough, right? “I think we should probably talk about logistics though.” She did add. This was concerning her drakes. She preferred to keep them away from the griffins. For both of their sakes. But that meant that they couldn't be housed in the Eyrie.
“Indeed.” His voice was deep, but not extraordinarily so. “There is a mountain just east of the city that is clear of trees.” He gestured to a passageway splitting off the one that had brought Elyria here. “The Priesthood keeps a detailed map of the region, and I have had the site marked.” He walked just beyond her, up to where the passageway split off and turned to look at her. She saw the distorted image of her own face reflected in his mask. “Come. We can discuss the matter in greater detail further in.”
A mountain? He was going to give her a mountain? Maybe she should have waited a little bit so he could arrange things better. Yet she was so excited for the battles. She let out a heavy sigh, only to realize Kalon could probably hear that. Under her breath she utter a curse at herself for the slip, but she did walk into the room with the map. Again, to her surprise and disappointment, the map was just that. A boring old map. Nothing like the map-tables from Makau. Maybe that would be a good gift for the priests? “So, a mountain. Yes, I guess the drakes could live there.” she said, trying not to let the disappointment slip in her voice. “And I’m guessing we can eat from your General Warehouse?” she added, trying to assumed the facts to get them out of the way. “So what about patrols? When do we join them?” That was a different question altogether but one Elyria had been preparing the whole journey. She wasn’t about to just sit on her mountain for days if not months.
“Things are already beginning to accelerate.” Kalon turned partly to the door, and said to the servant from the landing-site, “Await without, pendynion.” He closed the door, and turned to her again. “When we sat in Council, a plan an opening of subterfuge was discussed, and it is my understanding that it will be underway before long.” He walked over to the other side of the table as he spoke. “After that, hostilities along the border will begin in earnest in short order, and that will mean enemy soldiers lined up in formation. Excellent targets for you and yours, as I understand it.”
They very much were. Elyria had read her books and knew full well that most lords chose to put their warriors in certain standard formations. Most did not have to worry about attacks from above though. So when Kalon said that they would be excellent targets, Elyria smiled. If the enemy was truly stupid enough to march out to meet them in the field, she’d turn it into a fire sea.
He laid his hands on the far side of the table, which now was just in front of him. “Now, I can understand your dissatisfaction with your lodging, but you will be provided with the amenities you require—there is more than enough bedding and food for you, and surveyors of mine found a dry cave there that large enough to fit you all to shelter you from the elements should they turn against us. I’ve already had preparations made there; you won’t be sleeping on stone, though the beds may not be as fine as you’re used to.” He looked into her face again and she saw her own reflection. “The size and shape of your drakes may complicate matters, but you are still my guests here.”
He looked down to the map, his gaze lingering over the western portion, which was marked with a number of dots, each with two sets of dates—one past, and one to come. “If any of you or yours chooses to go hunting with your drake, that is acceptable—though, as I said, unnecessary, as food will be brought up to you from our storehouse—but stay east of the city. Several members of the Priesthood are going to be investigating a surge in Vilespawn activity near the Lesser Tiran pass.” He looked back up at her, and his voice grew just a little bit harsher.. “I would rather that they were not interrupted.”
Elyria was rather sad Kalon didn’t invite her on the Vilespawn hunt. It felt like a crack at her ego as if she wasn’t good enough to vanquish the evil spirits. But then again, Kalon was the boss here. So he was, in a way, ruler over her too. “My drakes love hunting, as do their lords. So I can assure you, some game will be found burned or broken.” Drake Lords didn’t hunt for food like most would. They hunted for the fun of it. To see the power of their drake. It was not a hunt, but a slaughter.
Kalon regarded her for a moment, his face unreadable behind his mask. Beneath, he sighed to himself—this young woman was of a kind he had seen many times before. He wondered, briefly, if she had actually seen a person burn to death, and whether her distance from the field of battle would serve to distance her from the battle itself. “Well, I believe that is all, then.” It was neither his purpose nor his place to preach to her. He stepped out from behind the table. Wordlessly, he walked to the door behind Elyria, behind which the servant stood an appreciable distance away. “Pendynion,” said Kalon, “see my guest back to her subordinates.” The man bowed deeply. Kalon turned back to Elyria. “I yet have matters to attend to here. Farewell.”
Below her, a small band of spread apart carts were walking through the pass. Often pulled by a slow donkey. In front of each cart, a rather old individual led it, holding himself up with a stick. Surrounded with 2 or 3 more people. All dressed in solemn, black robes. The carts were covered with simple cloth and carried simple things. Stale bread, some dried meat, water, tents. But should any guard listen very carefully, they'd hear the clanging of iron as well.
As it came into view, the city of Sanc Valatir seemed at first to be a pair of peaks peak jutting out of a plateau. The very tops of the Valatirine Sanctum, the Exarch’s keep, and the Eyrie, the headquarters of the storied Tithing, were the first things to peek over the landscape, and she caught sight of pillars of smoke soon after. The city’s great walls came after, and soon the roofs and walls of the buildings—mostly thatch and wood, but some were vaulted stone. As her horizon moved beyond the city, she saw them—several large fires, spewing smoke into the air. A clear signal for them to land.
The end of a short but enjoyable journey was in sight. Never in her life had Elyria ever flown so far out of Makania. So she marveled at everything she saw. Soon they were over the city. Casting winged shadows over the streets and roofs. Back in Makau, the people would have looked up to see what could cast it. But Elyria assumed that, with the Tithing being here, the people would be used to wings and shade. As she got closer to the landing city, the excitement of the fleet grew. The drakes were silent through the whole flight. But now, feeling the anxiousness in their riders, started to release their low, thunderous roars as they flew over the city and by the Eyrie. The loud rumbling incited the wyverns in tow and soon the whole fleet erupted in savage, thunderous growls. Which in turn enticed the riders to yell and cheer.
Elyria decided that landing the normal way would be far too boring for the excitement of the fleet. Instead, she kept her altitude. Only to roll into a dive at the last second. Ancalegon flew straight through one of the pillars and opened his wings to break the fall. The black clouds first entirely enveloped the drake, only to be blast apart by its wings’ blast of air. Not so gently and gracious to slammed itself into the ground below. Rival drakes and riders all followed suit. Diving from the air and trying to land on a spot that was still free. Elyria unhooked herself off her saddle and crawled off Ancalegon. Coughing a little due to the smoke, yet still cheering on her drake lords as they came down.
Swiftly all drakes had landed and the smaller wyverns were following suit. Elyria turned towards the nearest servant of Sanc Valatir. “Would you be a dear and lead me to Kalon? I assume he’s expecting me?” There was an odd amount of playfulness in her voice. As if she wasn’t marching for war but a party. She was even partially dressed the part. With pieces of silk cloth fluttering around her. Artfully attached to her leather riding suit. Her drake, behind her, roared once more. It was a different roar from back one from in the air, Elyria instincts sensed it. So she added: “Oh and you might want to bring a few cows or horses.”
The servant was dressed in a green tunic belted at the waist, and who wore a knee-length black cloak with silver trim along both sides of all its edges. If he took umbrage with the manner the Dragon Princess addressed his liege, it did not visibly show. “I would presume, then,” he said, “that you are the Dragon Princess Elyria? As it turns out, his grace sent me to bring you to him as soon as you arrived.. He is currently visiting with the Priesthood of the Waters, and so we shall not need to tarry long within the streets.” He turned, and the billowing of his cloak afforded Elyria a brief glimpse of a blade at his side, before he stopped. He turned his head to speak to her again. “Ah, yes, and some men should be arriving with food for the drakes shortly. His grace did not mention it, but I would imagine that he would be fine with you inspecting the food we have stored up for your drakes and wyverns in the General Warehouses. It should be enough to last until war begins, at which point they can feast on the bounty of Charce, but I see no harm in you investigating the matter personally.
Elyria merely nodded when the servant, or she assumed he was a servant, asked if she was the Dragon Princess. She was quite fond of the title, even though she didn’t ride a dragon. Sometimes Elyria questioned if they even existed anymore. They were creatures of pure legend. Still, her drakes were real enough and Ancalegon could probably pass for a dragon to anyone who never saw one before. Then she spotted the blade. So he wasn’t a servant after all. Unlike him, Elyria didn’t carry any weapons. Not even a knife. Her mastery over fire magic was strong enough to defend herself. Beside, she wouldn’t imagine what her drake would do if he discovered she died.
The comment about the inspection came somewhat unexpected. She rarely inspected anything really. Even back in Drakestone Ridge. The stewards and servants, gifted by nobles mostly, were well-versed in management. The fortress was quite self-governing. Which left the drake lords with plenty of time to study and explore the bonds with their drakes. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll just take your word for it.” she said rather sheepishly. In truth, she didn’t really know how to ‘inspect’ a warehouse. What would she have to look at?
The stone walls of the city curved slowly around to their right, every so often bulging into tower that stretched beyond the walls. In time, they reached the gates of the city, which were open, and saw what was unmistakably one of the Grave Keepers discussing something with a man who wore a cloak much alike to the one worn by the man who had come to greet Elyria.
Elyria was very much in awe with the massive walls. They reminded her of Makau’s. But something was amiss. They were as deeply scarred as the walls back home. Makau was besieged many times over. A great many warlords tested their siege engines against the solid stone. Time and time again gaps had to be filled and repaired. The walls of Makau had their own scars. The awe kept her silent for now, as she attentively looked at the walls and towers. At the gate, one of the Black Knights was discussing something with the guard there. For a moment, Elyria felt a little disappointed. Did Kalon just send a common guard to fetch her?
“Egeron of the Grave Keepers.” the man greeted the guard at the gate. Not even casting a glance towards the drakes and wyverns landing. Like all Grave Keepers that would pass, he offered a scroll sealed with black wax. The seal had the form of a snake eating its own tail, encircling an hourglass. The letter would be simple but straightforward. They were summoned to the city by their High-Priest. It also detailed why: a summons was called and the oath they swore would not be broken. The Black Knights would answer the call. They were to gather at Sanc Valatir, so the Priests packed up and started their long or short journey. Egeron was in a nearby village, just beyond the northern part of the pass. “Do tell me, my dear: where is your cemetery. I’m afraid I’ve never visited your fair city. Oh and the inn as well. I fear my novices might not yet be able to trade bed for stone.” Egeron was an old Priest now. Or he looked like one. With only flimsy wisps of hair falling from his scalp. His deep, bruised eyes looked as if he was either permanently exhausted or recently fought. His voice was thin like paper.
Taking the scroll from Egeron, the servant of Kalon broke the seal to read it. Finding that all was as the old man had told him, he looked up from the parchment and said, “We bury our dead on the north side of the walls. Follow the path round that way,” he gestured with one arm off to his right, “and take the first split off to the left. The nearer the graves are to the city, the older they are, if that makes any difference to you.” He produced some sort of stamp from beneath his cloak, pressed its mark into the parchment, and handed the scroll back to Egeron. “You’ll want to show this to the graveminders—they’re the folks who keep a watch over the graveyard. They’ll have been briefed more about what you folks do, and it’s all cleared. You just need to show that to them so they know you are who you say you are.” He placed the stamp back where it had been. “There are actually a few inns in the city that your Novices might want to stay at. I’ll call some of my subordinates over, and they’ll be able to get them settled.”
Egeron smiled like most weary, old man smiled. His novices, almost relieved to hear the news, rushed inside the city. Towards the prospect of a warm bed. Only Egeron and his apprentice remained. The apprentice already ushered on the donkey to go towards the graveyard. Egeron almost went on his way. But something stopped him. He looked at the guard for a moment and then said: “Do visit your grandparents, will you? If I have to, it will be too late.” After those words, he was off.
As soon as they could see through the gates, they could see the Great Baths, the marble edifice of which seemed to almost glow.
As they passed through streets and plazas, pedestrians parted to let them through. Though their gazes inevitably fell Elyria, they seemed to hang on her guide before they noticed her—though they did inevitably notice her.
They passed near enough to the speaking heralds to hear what they were saying, and all of them bore a similar refrain: the Drakestone Sorcerers, servants of the Exarch Alexander of Makau, had just arrived.
When they reached the doors to the Great Baths, Elyria’s guide approached one of the men guarding the door, who was dressed differently from the other guards she’d seen.
“His grace is expecting us.” This was all he said, and the guard immediately turned and entered the door ahead of them.
Elyria simply followed the man into the baths. Those legendary baths. Elyria fashioned herself a Vilespawn Slayer and back home, few could dispute that claim. Mounted on her drake she could fly from cave to cave, filling them with scorching fire. She couldn’t capture the malevolent spirits, that was true. But it was their material form that she could keep at bay. But now she stood in the temple dedicated to those who didn’t just kill them. These people had made it their life’s mission to not just slay them, but to capture the spirits. A bit struck by the building, she said: “I do hope I can come back here, after the war.”
The man who had guided Elyria here from where she had landed fell into step behind her as she entered the Great Baths, muttering under his breath—Elyria could make out the words “grace,” and “arrived.” After that, he was wholly silent.
At her comment, the priest guiding them turned to her with a smile on her face, and said, “We would be glad to have you as our guest.”
They wound their way through the corridors, the walls and vaulted ceiling built from the same type of marble as the Bath’s exterior, lit by sconces that hung just above their heads. They passed a number of robed members of the Priesthood of the Waters, each of whom nodded their head in greeting, and stood to the side to let them past. They passed several doors, some leading to the public baths, some to yet more corridors. In time, they came upon a large set of double doors made, it seemed, from lacquered mahogany.
The priest turned to them and said “Exarch Kalon and the Archcurate are currently speaking within the Inner Sanctum. I will tell them that–” But he was unable to finish his sentence, as the doors began to open. He jumped, just a little, with a look of surprise on his face, but that fell away and he looked back at the man who had first greeted Elyria, who stood behind her, and nodded when he met the priest’s gaze.
The doors parted, two men stepped out. One, on what was Elyria’s right, was large, balding, and wore a more ornate fashion of robes than the other priests she had seen so far. The other, on her left, was tall, dressed in a heavy gambeson, and wore a polished, almost-featureless mask over his face—the Exarch, Kalon.
He’s masked. Always. With a heavy cloak that will look a bit too heavy on a hot summer afternoon. Trust me, you will know who Kalon is when he speaks. Back In Makau, Elyria thought this to be enough. Masked, heavy robed and speaks with a certain gravity. Now she stood before him, Exarch Kalon and the only thing she could think of was: how ordinary he looks. He’s just a man wearing a mask. Of course, Alexander was the same. Yet, as a mage, she felt he was something beyond simply a man. Magic swirled around him. Before you enter a room with him, you can sense the air thick with mana. But that was Alexander’s aura as Exarch of Sorcery. Kalon did not seem to possess the same aura. In fact, she thought he could easily be mistaken for a common man.
Now, does she bow for him? She doesn’t even bow for Alexander but that’s because they were friends. Would she bow for an Archon? Yes, yes she would. But she didn’t bow for her own Exarch, so why should she bow for another? Instead, she swiftly fidgeted with a hardened leather cylinder on her belt and extracted a scroll, sealed with the shiny blue wax. The symbol was that of Makau: seven stars and a sickle moon. The scroll would say the usual, that the Drakestone Sorcerers came to aid the assault on Lesmania. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” She said, as she handed over the scroll. Formal enough, right? “I think we should probably talk about logistics though.” She did add. This was concerning her drakes. She preferred to keep them away from the griffins. For both of their sakes. But that meant that they couldn't be housed in the Eyrie.
“Indeed.” His voice was deep, but not extraordinarily so. “There is a mountain just east of the city that is clear of trees.” He gestured to a passageway splitting off the one that had brought Elyria here. “The Priesthood keeps a detailed map of the region, and I have had the site marked.” He walked just beyond her, up to where the passageway split off and turned to look at her. She saw the distorted image of her own face reflected in his mask. “Come. We can discuss the matter in greater detail further in.”
A mountain? He was going to give her a mountain? Maybe she should have waited a little bit so he could arrange things better. Yet she was so excited for the battles. She let out a heavy sigh, only to realize Kalon could probably hear that. Under her breath she utter a curse at herself for the slip, but she did walk into the room with the map. Again, to her surprise and disappointment, the map was just that. A boring old map. Nothing like the map-tables from Makau. Maybe that would be a good gift for the priests? “So, a mountain. Yes, I guess the drakes could live there.” she said, trying not to let the disappointment slip in her voice. “And I’m guessing we can eat from your General Warehouse?” she added, trying to assumed the facts to get them out of the way. “So what about patrols? When do we join them?” That was a different question altogether but one Elyria had been preparing the whole journey. She wasn’t about to just sit on her mountain for days if not months.
“Things are already beginning to accelerate.” Kalon turned partly to the door, and said to the servant from the landing-site, “Await without, pendynion.” He closed the door, and turned to her again. “When we sat in Council, a plan an opening of subterfuge was discussed, and it is my understanding that it will be underway before long.” He walked over to the other side of the table as he spoke. “After that, hostilities along the border will begin in earnest in short order, and that will mean enemy soldiers lined up in formation. Excellent targets for you and yours, as I understand it.”
They very much were. Elyria had read her books and knew full well that most lords chose to put their warriors in certain standard formations. Most did not have to worry about attacks from above though. So when Kalon said that they would be excellent targets, Elyria smiled. If the enemy was truly stupid enough to march out to meet them in the field, she’d turn it into a fire sea.
He laid his hands on the far side of the table, which now was just in front of him. “Now, I can understand your dissatisfaction with your lodging, but you will be provided with the amenities you require—there is more than enough bedding and food for you, and surveyors of mine found a dry cave there that large enough to fit you all to shelter you from the elements should they turn against us. I’ve already had preparations made there; you won’t be sleeping on stone, though the beds may not be as fine as you’re used to.” He looked into her face again and she saw her own reflection. “The size and shape of your drakes may complicate matters, but you are still my guests here.”
He looked down to the map, his gaze lingering over the western portion, which was marked with a number of dots, each with two sets of dates—one past, and one to come. “If any of you or yours chooses to go hunting with your drake, that is acceptable—though, as I said, unnecessary, as food will be brought up to you from our storehouse—but stay east of the city. Several members of the Priesthood are going to be investigating a surge in Vilespawn activity near the Lesser Tiran pass.” He looked back up at her, and his voice grew just a little bit harsher.. “I would rather that they were not interrupted.”
Elyria was rather sad Kalon didn’t invite her on the Vilespawn hunt. It felt like a crack at her ego as if she wasn’t good enough to vanquish the evil spirits. But then again, Kalon was the boss here. So he was, in a way, ruler over her too. “My drakes love hunting, as do their lords. So I can assure you, some game will be found burned or broken.” Drake Lords didn’t hunt for food like most would. They hunted for the fun of it. To see the power of their drake. It was not a hunt, but a slaughter.
Kalon regarded her for a moment, his face unreadable behind his mask. Beneath, he sighed to himself—this young woman was of a kind he had seen many times before. He wondered, briefly, if she had actually seen a person burn to death, and whether her distance from the field of battle would serve to distance her from the battle itself. “Well, I believe that is all, then.” It was neither his purpose nor his place to preach to her. He stepped out from behind the table. Wordlessly, he walked to the door behind Elyria, behind which the servant stood an appreciable distance away. “Pendynion,” said Kalon, “see my guest back to her subordinates.” The man bowed deeply. Kalon turned back to Elyria. “I yet have matters to attend to here. Farewell.”
A Zen & Legion creation
