-0426 Military hours
-Euralian Hearthland, East of Yerune
A cold waft billows through a window, parting the curtains with its gentle touch. The sun has yet to shed its light. All the candles have long since been extinguished, leaving only darkness to comfort me as I awoke. It was peaceful—if a little lonely.
For once, Oswin did not shatter the silence with his insolent snores. Him, and the others lay deep in slumber. As the curtains fluttered, and with sleep eluding me still, no one but the guards on shift would be privy to my roams across the villa. Even then, I suspect most would feint their vigil.
The gallery remains lit with the barest of flames, casting gentle flickers that danced along the weathered stone floor. While their homely diligence past duskfall would often be lacking, the guards at least tended the sconces—even then it barely redeemed them in my eyes.
I tread lightly, braving the stark emptiness and journey down to the communal lobby—being cautious to not wake the others up. As the stairs come into view, the last remnants of light fades. Beneath the steps, lay only a veil of darkness. Quiet footsteps trampled below, pattering with a slight echo. In tandem with the ominous chill, the air resonated with an foreboding tone.
Grabbing the rails, and sinking into the murk, a faint light shimmers at the stair's end. The walls fan out, and usher me forward into the expanse ahead. Candles flickered on both sides of the lobby, adorned on black holdings that were fashioned in the honour of an outside faith—a crescent. A homage to the culture who forged them.
I admired its immaculate carvings—or perhaps those were inscriptions? Either way, they were most certainly engraved with utmost care. The room lay in their light, a soft golden yellow like the waning flames of a stove, instilling a familial warmth that reminded me of home. With closed eyes, I could even imagine this place as such. Mother's gentle aura would fill the room, and I would always find comfort in her smile and violet eyes. I have not seen her face, nor heard her voice for well over ten moon cycles now.
Absence makes the heart yearn stronger, and that thread goes both ways. How is she? And how has she fared with only the company of father? These questions begged to be answered, foolish as they are to even exist. I soon forsake the muse and resume my slow amble, but keep them close to heart—as I always will.
Empty bottles of Elysian delights lay on the couches and three long tables. As expected, no one is around. The midnight air billows outside the windows, raising the little hairs on my bare arms. The cold sensation is rather pleasing against this thin gown. I thread past the entrance, basking in this peaceful ambience. Ahead, lay the unkempt clearing and old-growth woods at the borders. A few drakewings slept the night away, their forms huddled against one another.
Several torches burned in the distance. A few guards gathered around the flames, motionless, but awake. Within their ilk stood an odd member, whose bright green swiftly make the last vestiges of sleep depart. What has spurred Meagan to forsake a night's rest? And she is among a cadre of guards, whom the human soldiers' still openly hated.
The question spurs me to act, but more than that, she is under my charge. As is the rest of her imprisoned ilk. It has been so since the old sage has all but given up on the humans. His patience is as thin as his wrists Oswin would say, and I would certainly agree. Although it was said as jest, none could deny it as false.
Trudging to the small gathering, my steps weaved through the blades of grass, garnering attention from the group. Soon, all eyes fall upon me. The cautious stares are akin to cold daggers, but they relent as I wade into their midst, basking in the fires' soft glow and warmth, my concerns demanding answers to the scene before me.
"Inora," the Guard Captain offers with a nod, perhaps noting my furrowed expression, "fret not, we have done nothing to the matriarch. She merely wishes to view the heavens, and so we obliged."
Her words quelled my concerns but did little to dissuade me. "Providence bless you Lenna, but I shall take the Matriarch under my wing now," I affirm, gesturing for the pendant draped on her chestplate.
Lenna nods, and takes the enchanted ornament off, lifting it over her plumed helmet. She pauses, and looks back to Meagan, who in turn stares back with arms crossed, her brows twisted as though in suspicion. "It was unfortunate the Lord General had to move them by force, they are too stubborn for their own good. Imagine the things we could glean if they did not harbour such grievances towards us."
I take the pendant and drape it over my neck, muttering a sigh at what could have been. "It is fate's will I suppose. It was either we glean from the humans, or our enemies do so in our stead."
"A plight born of unfortunate circumstances," Runa frowns, leaning closer to my side. "It is a fool's errant to believe we can amend their grievances. Just past duskfall, we caught one of their warriors stealing a knife from the mess. For what purpose, we thankfully need not know."
I nod, solemn as the Guard Captain herself. "They are dangerous."
"On that we are agreed. Be on guard, there have been rumours of missing caravans near the city's eastern reaches. I pray they are not a prelude to a human rescue," she replies and drift past.
Without needing parting words, the Captain and her stern entourage depart elsewhere and they soon disappear into the murk, no doubt to their original stations. A few patrolling sentries still prowled the outskirts, though they were few and rarely stayed for long. Meagan sends her gaze back to the stars, her dull eyes flushed with melancholy. She is the most amicable of her ilk, but even then a certain divide exists between us.
I soon follow her gaze up to the heavens, looking at the myriad of constellations that no doubt captured her attention. The stars reveled in the absence of light—as did my wonder. The twinkling specks filled the silence, until patience gives way to curiosity.
"I would have thought you would be tired after our last bout of inquiries," I cautiously begin, glancing at her still evident frown.
"Not so much as you'd think," Meagan pauses, never breaking her faithful gaze upon the cosmic ensemble. "The rest of us prefer you and the others rather than the old man with that beard."
Her words brings bring forth a memory of the sage, his wrinkled features twisted in displeasure as a human warrior remains silent with a glare. Such a scene is common throughout his interrogations before the task was eventually saddled onto me and other like-minded Highlanders.
A kind demeanor does wonders to bridge the divides and quell festering resentment. This wisdom I suspect he is privy to, but one not acted upon in the name of pride. A pity given his station as a senior affiliate of the Kingdom's reigning Council of inquisitors. He ought to know better.
"At the risk of sundering his prestige, the sage reflects badly upon us all, "I look to Meagan, folding both arms as a cold breeze billows past. Silence soon returns, and I take this moment to bask in the serenity. The night sky is angelic, its stars twinkling like a sea of unending diamonds.
To the north, blends of gold adorned the twin moons as they drift amidst the cosmic sea. Their regal glow is entrancing as they are radiant, almost akin to a siren's alure. Reline and Ruhr, the crescent twins far beyond our grasp in all but sight and admiration. Like the humans here, the sister moons were alone amidst the many distant worlds of light. The only ones of their kind to be anchoured this close to Nirin'Thia.
"We only have one of those on Earth," Meagan begins after a sigh, pausing for a moment, "we call her Luna."
I smile, and move closer. "It is a wonderful name, Luna." I mouth the word again in silence, finding it one of the few human words which did not sound foreign. Luna, the name is simple, but beautiful. Yet another piece of human cultural knowledge I am now privy to—another important glimpse into their Earth realm.
Amidst the urgent need to glean the intricacies of their weapons, I find the simple lore concerning their world to be just as vital to our cause. Knowledge certainly heralds power, it matters not the specifics. But the window for such an opportunity is not forever.
As the thought drifts away, I return to the present. "The night is almost over, you ought to sleep, lest you tire yourself out. The day will be tedious with our journey to Yerune," I pause and look over her features for hints of emotion. There is but a minor dip of her brows—hardly evident through the darkness. Without the moons, it may have gone unnoticed.
"What about you then?" Meagan retorts, her eyes gleaning with a hint of mockery. Her reply almost elicits a scowl, but I let it sink beneath the waves. She does not need to know my inner turmoil, it is mine alone to endure.
Waving off her sharp tongue, I instead take her by the arm. A sharp gasp escapes her lips, her surprised mirrored by widening eyes. The fire within simmers, but then relents. Pulling her along, she follows my lead back to the Villa.
"I insist, if not for you then, then for me. It will not do if we were to present you to the court in such a weary state. The city's ministers would not stand by that. Should it be the case, it will give them reason to pry into this matter. It is only the Queen's decree that allowed all of you to be housed together."
The last throes of resistance fades and she willingly follows along, so I let go. "Fine," she murmurs in defeat, and pries her gaze elsewhere.
I lead her back inside, passing by a few guards as they prowled about. The stairs creak as we ascend, a reminder of its age. No more words fluttered between us, and it would remain so until her room is in sight. The door is ajar, and a brief peak within shows more of her kin in deep slumber.
Owing to the lack of beds, a few had to make due with fur blankets. Though it is a pitiful sight to behold, I say nothing of it and turn to Meagan. Her gaze drifts beyond into the room before returning to me.
"It will be a busy day," I slowly part the door, wincing slightly at the creak on its hinges. If the sound awoke the others, then so be it.
She offers only silence, and moves past. The door is shut with a resounding lock. Muffled footsteps can be heard, though it soon vanishes.
"For the Herald's sake," I turn around, perhaps with slight inkling of worry. The chosen humans may offend the high court if they are not wary. In hindsight, the retainers should have taught them how they ought to behave in such a setting—a chance left squandered.
Only time itself will reveal if these thoughts are unfounded. This short affair will soon be forgotten as the day begins in earnest, and word of the garrison's impending arrival reaches our ears.
======
The slow entourage of humans marches out dressed in their garb under our care. All are silent as an elder retainer examines their posture and mannerisms, her silken dress bedecked in imperial gold and white.
The woman's gaze sweeps over each one, her composure unwavering, and tone steady. "These five certainly are presentable," she pauses, raising a finger to her chin in thought, "they will have no issues in the court."
I fold my arms as she nears. "Are you certain?"
The retainer rolls her eyes, as though taking slight. "These five will not embarrass themselves when the time comes. Unlike the other great cities, it is the Merchant confederacies that rule Yerune's court, not aristocracy."
"Very well," I relent, trusting the elder woman's insights. She then takes my hand in hers, cradling both with tenderness. The warmth of her palms is comforting, but why?
"A statue is less taut then your posture my dear," she explains, "by the Herald, I could sense your worry from a league away. Cast aside your doubts, it serves no purpose."
"I will endeavor to," I offer a meagre nod, and pull away from her grasp. "Their arrangements may be upheaved depending on our findings, my findings."
"That is up to the council, not you," she retorts, flicking a hand through the air. "Now off you go and prove me right."
Elsewhere, the Sage's distinctive robes unfurls from the corner as he stands beside our ranks. While the others revel in idle talk, the bearded inquisitor held a stern demeanor, arms folded, and peers into the forest ahead. Out of us all, he seems most thrilled at the prospect of leaving this place.
The sound of galloping horses soon whispers through the air, heralding the garrison's arrival. With only a parting glance to impart my thanks, I rejoin the rest and await the convoy's arrival. Oswin stood ahead, glancing back upon hearing my hurried footsteps.
"Anytime now," he points ahead, then treads into the thicket. As he vanishes, I follow in his wake, stepping into nature's embrace. Before me stretches a vast sea of green—bright and verdant beneath the sun's veiled, but still reverent gaze. Critters large and meagre sung their hymns as we venture deeper into their sanctuary.
These little wonders, I cherish them now more than ever. Without the burden of the fringe east to cloud new thoughts, the world appears simpler and brighter now. It is as though war remains a mirage, a foreign concept upon distant shores.
The sudden neighs of horses and carriages soon breaks the reverie, and heralds the entry of our escorts.
The horses, draped in royal reds and silvers break through the thicket, galloping proudly in rows of two. Shrubs and other such features relent beneath the stampede of hooves and clanking steel, forging a clearing in their wake.
"Halt!" The lead cavalier announces, raising an armoured fist up. Those behind him rumble to a stop as the man dismounts, his choice of weapon marking him as a fellow sorcerer—a radiant scepter.
"This mansion has not seen usage for many turns, and for good reason" he scoffs, regarding me with a stern look. "Where are these supposed guests?"
"Awaiting your arrival," Oswin answers in my stead. His gaze shifts to me, and silently urges me to bring forth the humans.
The man nods, and furls his arms, never relenting on that frown. Behind his stead, and many others lay a large carriage, bedecked in grey and appeared well fashioned with steel and rivets. It seems well protected, and more than apt to ferry at least ten within.
"Bring them in!" I yell out. The others then make haste towards me. First to heed the call is the wizened inquisitor himself, then a full cadre Highlanders, with the humans trailing in their wake. The entourage, including us both numbers at thirteen.
"Will the carriage take issue with thirteen passengers?" I ask as the procession nears.
"It will not. Best we hurry, it will not do to arrive later than zenith," the cavalier replies, ushering everyone to the carriage. He gawks at the humans, eying each one with surprise as the five wade past us. One can only imagine the prevailing thoughts of those who have never seen such garb before.
"Already this proves to be an interesting day, what manner of dress is this?" he pauses, eying the entourage with an amused glint, "a desert rose would garner less pause then these folk. Who are they?"
"They are not from this land. That, we can tell you," Oswin reveals as he grooms the cavalier's stead. The horse leans into him, and answers his affections with strokes of its tongue.
"Not now," I tug him away, mindful of the stead's clammy regards on his fingers.
"I cede," he raises his hands in defeat. though he bares a ghost of a smile. Oswin continues onward to the carriage without hassle, wiping those clammy fingers against his cape. This affirms it, he will not touch me, nor I him, until he takes a bath.
"We are set to depart," I offer a sheepish smile. The man returns a nod and soon mounts his armoured stead, bucking the horse into motion.
With everything concluded, it is time to leave for the city itself and tread back to the light of civilization proper. The carriage lies before me, looking much bigger in person. Its steel carapace is anointed with swirling patterns and sharp ridges, as though taking inspiration from Ocean turtles—no, Hardshell trents rather.
The insides are just as extravagant with a wide berth where a red carpet lies, parting two rows of seats from front to rear. There exists even a small roundtable at the centre. Atop lies a teapot, a hint of steam wafting out from between its covered rim. A tangible scent of perfumes pervades the air—like that of a flower. The aroma dances through my nose, a delicate blend of sweetness and spices.
With a lurch, the carriage is away, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoing through the cabin. I settle into the cushioned seat, back arcing comfortably into its soft curves. It is likely this carriage was fashioned to serve those of prestige—perhaps even of royalty. Such an immaculate piece of craftsmanship would be well above our stations had it not been for these humans and what they mean.
As the trees descend into a blur through the windows, the other highlanders take to hushed conversations. Most topics are of little substance—how dull the weather is and such, though a few take to refining their mastery over the human tongue. Time well spent I would say given our journey's end.
"... okay I have one, how would they greet each other at dawn?" a highlander holds up a finger and questions the one beside him, a meek woman barely over twenty turns old—her mettle yet to be tested in battle. No doubt a recent conscript to our realm by age alone—Marina is her name if memory serves.
She stammers, and looks to me for consul. I merely return a smirk and watch them. "Erm... great, mourning?" At that I wince slightly.
A few humans look her way and a small blush soon spreads across her pale cheeks. It did little to hide that shade of red, however subtle it is. Her gaze soon wanders off, finding her own lap to be of great interest.
"It would be, good morning." Her companion answers amidst her embarrassment.
"Correct, you learnt well," I smile, proud of his mastery.
"In part thanks to your tutelage. We would much prefer this to being sent to the fringe east. Word has it we are now locked in a stalemate with the Yhunians." The Highlander removes his helm and cradles it to his chest.
"Then I can only hope our arrangements remain as it is. There is still much to glean about them," I say, sparing a brief glance at the humans at the rear. They whispered amongst themselves, but often would glance our way on occasion.
A hushed scoff echoes through the cabin. "That would depend on what we have learned. I pray the council will stand against such foolishness. We ought to separate them all, perhaps then they will understand that our mercy is a gift they should not waste."
The sage glares at us, brows furrowed, then casts his gaze elsewhere. A surge of anger burns within me at such audacity. What right does he have to flaunt such ignorance when he has done little of note over these past few days. Prayers and books are all he did whilst I toiled with a task that rightfully is his.
The urge to return a venomous retort simmers to mind, but I stifle the thought. It would do nothing but paint me in a dire light. Rude and decadent as he is, the sage holds a position of power. I would be at his mercy should I stand against him. Only the foolish would swim against the tide.
No matter, the decision rests with the council, not him. As the forested landscape wanes and open grasslands takes its place, weary travelers and caravans can be seen outside. The roads shifts from paved dirt to stone as we reach ever closer to civilization. The humans, who once hardly spared a glance outside, now find ample reason to do so.
Perhaps with the majesty of this city, it will convey to them we not the brutes they think we are. Our enduring Kingdom is more than can be put into words, both the good and bad. For all our flaws, we are the pristine keepers of ancient traditions and stalwart leaders in pursuit of the arcane sciences.
The grand visage of Yerune draws closer, inspiring wonder to any who gazed upon it—a befitting reaction for a city of its prestige.
As the city radiates its brilliance atop its perch on a hill, I can not help but wonder how this visit would shape the future, not just for the humans, but us as well. For once, I did not delve much into the thought. This is beyond my station, and I have made peace with that.
======
-Yerune, Commercial District
Outside, the streets are lively and spirited. Its aura certainly is infectious, but I harbour only impatience as the convoy journeys through this sprawling metropolis. So many turns, brief stops, and places of interest, yet nothing that spoke of the famed Chancellery that serves as the centre of governance within this great city.
Throngs of people milled about with purpose, draped in all assortments of garb. Amidst the pristine hue that defines our people, there are also other shades of hair. Black, brown, even the odd red. This thriving meld of races all in seamless harmony always makes for a novel sight to behold.
They all glide past as I watch them from within, a silent observer to their realms. Slowly their numbers wane, until they vanish from sight. The road becomes more refined—from dull stone to marble. We travel along its weave as the world unfolds into a breathtaking vista. Fields of azure blue reigns over the land once more as a lone, gleaming visage of an imposing citadel looms in the distance, towering above all.
The air is hushed, now devoid of banter and whispers alike. Through this silence comes a sense of tension. This city is foreign to me, even if the sound of wares and haggling merchants did bring memories of home to the fore. The citadel grows in size, until its visage no longer would fit within the window's frame. Perhaps this is the famed Chancellery?
"At last, thank providence," the sage murmurs and makes haste to the door. The clanking of hooves begins to slow, as did our speed.
The carriage grinds to a halt. Footsteps echo outside. Beyond the window stands a pair of well-dressed footmen, adorned in deep blue, neatly tailored jackets and plumed berets of subtle grey. One opens the door, whilst the other steps aside to make way for our exit. With speed belying his age, the sage quickly scampers out and departs without so much as a word to us.
"I have important matters to attend to first, be on your way to the Grand Chancellery without me," the inquisitor then exclaims, waving off any concern, his robed back turned to us.
"Good riddance I'd say," I whisper, watching his retreating figure tread into the midst of other robed figures—their faces shrouded in hoods. Soon they leave for another carriage—one less grand. It speeds away, departing further along the road, their destination all but certain. It seems the sage is not interested in the meeting itself if he means to meander amongst his ilk.
Oswin soon moves to my side with a small frown, offering a nudge at the elbow. He leans in, and softly mutters, "That might be an invitation to proceed without him. Best we move onwards."
I mirror his sentiments, and reply in kind, "Most certainly."
The grand chancellery looms before us, crested with golden domes that shimmered like the sun itself. Its peak rose to even grace the clouds themselves. Large pillars held aloft its towering façade, and even saying it evokes a radiant air of grandeur would only do it injustice.
An embellished pavement lies ahead as the only means to the Chancellery, decorated in exquisite finery that further cemented my musings. Obelisks line the path on both sides, each one at least ten paces tall, their pointed tips golden like the domes. The whole visage evokes a picture of affluence and prestige, one that further heralds the meeting's importance.
"I presume you lot are the ones the Merchant Lords wish to meet. We shall take you to them if you have no qualms," one of the footmen offers as he beckons us onwards, his well mannered demeanor putting me at ease.
Impatience seeps to the fore, "Then take us," I answer.
"Right this way," he nods.
Soon the archway lies before us. Its arching roof is decayed and faded, the only sign of the Chancellery's antiquity.
"The sketches pale in comparison," a Highlander murmurs, awed by the visage ahead.
"Wow," another one whispers, her voice stricken with reverence as she gazes up, violet eyes filled with wonder.
Once past, the sounds of rustling paper fills the air. At the sides are numerous chambers, each housing scribes and their helpers. They sat in tables, quill in hand and toil with parchments and scales, rarely glancing up. They all appear deeply engrossed in their craft, paying us as much heed as one might the passing wind.
"Take these stairs to the seventh and turn left, you will be in the waiting chambers and be in the presence of Government aides who shall assist. There will be a schedule to follow, so heed their orders well," both escorts step aside, granting us passage to the staircase at the left.
"You have my thanks," I reply as they both depart. One offers a parting wave. This concludes their brief venture and they soon vanish from sight.
For us, this is merely the beginning. There is only one way forward, and it must be walked with certainty.
"Follow me," I say with a glance back, and quickly ascend the steps, trusting the others to follow in my wake.
So the judgement begins.
======
-Yerune, Government Plaza
-Grand Chancellery, seventh Floor
"It is time."
"A—are you sure they only want us?" Meagan's unease is evident as she contemplates my words, her voice hushed and hesitant.
"Yes, that is what the Merchant Lords wish. It will not do to keep them waiting, go now." With a reserved frown, I plant a steady hand on Meagan's shoulder.
"Alright, wish us luck." She stands and tidies her buttoned garb and ventures off, the other four treading in her wake.
The aides usher them onwards, guiding them out the waiting chambers. They all walked solemnly, as though awaiting judgement for a crime of their doing.
Putting down my refreshments, a certain thought looms to the fore and I make haste to the aides. "Would the Merchant Lords require this? They are not versed in our tongue, or of any we may speak," I hold up the pendant from my chest, and await their answer.
One shakes his head, adding a grunt as he retorts. "Ornaments enchantment with the Seal of Understanding? No. We have many of these, such is the perk of being the centre of eastern commerce."
The man's piercing gaze sinks to my chest, and the urge to cover them surges forth. "Its glow is fading, the enchantment will last ten days at best," he says and then looks up, "we can have our Jewel Meisters reenchant the ornament at your leisure."
"Oh," I blink away my unsaid accusations, "that would be appreciated," I continue, sparing Meagan one last look. Worry festers within even though she and her ilk are in good hands. I very much understand the feeling of not belonging in foreign lands.
Their steps fade, and I return back to the chambers. Drinks, sweets and other such delights graced my lips as time passes, but they too lost their novelty. The others converse and make banter whilst I made certain that all my parchments are present—those pertaining to weapons, culture, and language. These findings should prove most appetizing.
Oswin ambles towards the balcony with a glass of wine, discarding his helmet behind as he went. After a moment of pondering, I decide to follow—if only for the view if nothing else. I stand up, invoking a sudden pause in banter.
Marina rises up, her features awash with concern, sceptre at the ready. I hold up an assuring hand to quell her worries. "Take care of these notes," I pause and point down at the parchments—all neatly arranged on the table, "and call me should we be summoned"
"Your findings are safe with me," the novice Highlander tilts her head, "what for?"
I look out to the sun-kissed balcony, heeding its golden allure. "A hint of sunshine and fresh air, nothing more."
"Okay." Marina relents and sinks back to the couch, swiftly clutching the parchments and cradling them dearly in both arms. Even if the young woman lacks a tempered heart, she has the spirit. Such a trait is worth more than gems in our profession.
With the findings now in her care, a moment of respite awaits outside. The balcony stands in the sun's rays, and its warmth soon washes over me. Soft whispers from the wind promised a clear mind as I lean against the balustrade beside Oswin.
His eyes held a solemn gloom, cast onto the cityscape far beneath, a frown on his lips. "We mustn't forget her," he whispers, almost trance-like, his glass emptied of wine.
A sharp ache ripples through my heart. The memories come surging back with a vengeance, and all I can remember is Sephra—her face, and the shadowed look she gave amidst the storm of thundering fire. The moment my hands left hers, was the moment a grim fate awaited her. What purgatory answered her loyalty to our wounded, it must be beyond words.
Not truly knowing is itself agony. Is she alive? Has she been sullied by crude human hands? Just the thought ignites a fierce scowl. Here we stand, far from her place of sentence, where she might linger only as a corpse.
Believing her dead will at least give me a sliver of closure. "Stupid, just stupid." So blind in her sense of duty that she would discard her own life to adhere to an oath.
Beyond this mirage of grief, the cityscape blurs, until a single drop spills from my lids. It falls past the balcony's edge onto the city below, lost to bustling streets and weave of time—a small penance soon forgotten with a blink.
The ultimate fate of our dear companion would always bring us to silence, and this moment proves no different. There was no need to discuss something that has been cemented. She made her choice, and now remains only as memory.
In this quiet moment of reflection, I find a piece of solace. Even in the midst of loss, life must trudge onwards. And as the cityscape's immaculate weave of streets and buildings lingered in my sights, I know for certain my spirit will do the same. I owe this to myself at least.
The sun slowly sinks to the horizon, casting a fading glow upon the city. A sheen of gold adorns the soft border between sky and land, and no longer did the winds carry a hint of warmth. It will not be long before night is upon us.
Trotting footsteps—barely discernible, then resound behind. I turn around and retreat back inside as the sounds gather strength.
"There they are," Marina waves me over as the humans enter, appearing weary from what must be an arduous bout of questioning. Three aides follow suit, ushering the beleaguered five to rest on the couches.
One of them snaps a finger, garnering our attention. "Go now," he swiftly decrees.
"Finally," Oswin murmurs, and discards his long emptied glass, "I feared we would never be called."
"Here," Marina offers the parchments and I take it, "best we proceed now."
Her companions rise and gather nearby, "Is your cadre ready?"
She nods, and flaunts a steely gaze. "The Ambient Sovereigns stand ready."
I place a gentle hand on her shoulder, echoing her tempered gaze. "Lead onwards, I will join shortly," I pause and rest my sights on the humans, "I have a few inquiries for them."
"Don't be long," she lightly frowns, gently brushing aside my hand, "lest our tardiness be questioned."
The Highlander leads onwards as I make haste towards the humans, sparing a cold glance to their aides to leave us be. They heed my demands and step aside.
"How did it go?" Meagan looks up, placing down her glass as she speaks.
"They asked a lot, I'm not kidding. Felt like we had to recite our whole damn history and then some," she chuckles, "good experience though. We learnt about them as much as they did us."
I press on with an inquiry, "What else did they glean, or offer?"
"We did not say much about our weapons, for obvious reasons. But, I did tell the representatives what we studied in our brief time here—they seemed particularly interested in the ruins on the southern coast."
"The Elves," I conclude with a frown. The ancient adversaries of a time long past.
"We... always suspected, even before we were attacked that there was history between those ruins and your nation. Now we know definitively. Don't be surprised if they ask you more on that."
"I shall keep that in mind," I reply, and soon make haste out the waiting chambers. Meagan and her companions did well, now it is our turn to tread the murky waters.
The time to meet the Merchant Lords is neigh. What questions they may ask, I do not know. But it will be interesting to find out.
======
The large doors groan as they part, revealing an expansive chamber ahead. Veiled curtains are draped over all windows, and blotted what remains of the sun's light, though the room itself still holds an ambient glow. Above lies the source, a large chandelier casting its gleaming regards across the chamber—a fair gold.
"Welcome," a man says on a podium, addressing us with open arms, "I am Councilman Fez, and I greet you all on behalf of our esteemed confederacy." The platform he stands on arcs around in a crescent, encircling us all. Four people stood with him, two on each side, all adhering to silence.
I gaze up, noting the fair difference in height. The formal pleasantries, while expected, serves little purpose than as courtly repertoire. Still, I give the esteemed Councilman my regards. "Honoured we are, to be summoned to such hallowed grounds."
"Let us delve right into this meeting's agenda shall we. We have much to discuss," a Councilwoman on his left spoke, casting her regards with an unwavering tone.
"We do, my lady," Oswin answers on our behalf, bowing as the woman's gaze falls on him.
"And so the session begins," she declares, and waves a hand to the air. At her behest, the doors behind close with a loud clank, "I take it that you all are responsible for gleaning from the humans?"
"Yes, my lady," I reply.
"And without the help of Magus Arrium nonetheless, "she laughs, "I am not surprised that withered fool continues to dishonour his postings. Time and time again, he proves that redemption is beyond him. I am glad you all are able to make up for his incompetence. What have you to offer?"
"Everything we have gleaned, has been noted down," I reply, and hold out a stack of parchments, "sketches and descriptions of all sorts—be it weapons, culture or history. They all are here. Though if memory serves, the humans have already given great insight in the latter."
She nods, clasping both hands together with a soft clap. "They have. As for the findings, we may have our Loremasters and Scholars skim over them once we are finished. The fact the humans have shared so much, barring their weapons speaks well of how they are treated."
The woman leans in, "Do you believe they would eventually share their secrets? Such profound weapons—should those rumours hold depth, would greatly ensure Euralia's dominance over our neighbours. We would finally have Yhunia trembling in battle for once. It is why her Majesty, Queen Ayleth decreed they be brought here to Yerune, and not further westwards."
A memory of the Queen's recent visit to Drossal flashes over my thoughts. Her Majesty's presence is far too deliberate to be an act of goodwill, this may also be said for all her decrees. As reigning Queen, such noble ambitions to further the cause of Euralia would not seem far-fetched.
"Should that be her Majesty's motive, then I am afraid her judgement is flawed," I place the parchments inside my satchel and continue, "we attacked their place of refuge, slaughtered dozens, and ferried the survivors against their will. For all their compliance, they remain prisoners under our charge."
Another Councilman intrudes, "There are, other ways to glean such knowledge should they refuse. As you know, foul magic does not respect free will, we may emplo—"
"No. Such rancid methods are beyond reason. Especially so when they have already graced us with valuable insights," Councilman Fez sneers.
"Very well," he relents, foregoing his proposal, "though her Majesty will expect progress nonetheless and we must deliver."
"On that end," the Councilwoman graces a finger across the curve of her chin, "they hail from another world, yet this... Rift of theirs is closed. They are children in a lost land, they will need guidance—and they have only us. I understand there remains some survivors, and they wrestled back their fort."
A palpable silence takes hold, though it is soon broken. I hold my tongue and listen as Councilman Fez erupts into a tirade.
"All five prefer not to answer, understandable yes. We merely know the Black Hand were greatly outmatched, bested by an enemy they outnumbered ten-fold. News of it will spread across the realm, and it will not be to our benefit," Councilman Fez pauses, a frown gracing his lips.
"Notions of secession continue to fester amongst our far western provinces, and word from the north suggest the Emir's armies now prance along our border. Should the other nations learn of this, then Euralia's distinction as a prime regional power will be put into question," he adds, voice embracing a sombre tone, "unless we can glean from the humans."
The Council of five further delves into various proposals on how we ought to achieve it. Most are reasonable, and seem to respect the dignity of those in our care. Fervent discussions take place as we exchange thoughts, and surprisingly it does seem our words had merit. A few ideas are discarded in light of our opinions, though plenty still remains.
Better luxuries, an uplift in accommodations, even the employment of courtesans to tempt the men to spill their insights. That latest one I hope is said in jest, lest the nights onwards be plagued with the echoes of passionate screams. Even Marina and her Cadre are perturbed by such a suggestion, though they keep their opinions unsaid. Many would frown upon it, but none may deny its potential—and thus it stays.
These remaining proposals are promising, though it is the last one that has my full undivided attention. The creeping unease tightens around my stomach. Each breath fills me with uncertainty, as if the air itself has turned heavy and oppressive. Yet, I can not ignore the temptation that came upon hearing it.
"... which of course will ferry you back to their stronghold. A reckless plan yes, but one that may hopefully tempt the rest to join those under our care," Councilman Fez concludes, though even he seems unconvinced by his own words.
"It would be a death wish," Oswin glowers back, his brows creased, "they will have good reason to slay us on sight and not listen. It would be a slaughter, that I know."
Councilman Fez halts him with a hand, "Unless, we also send one of their own. But I understand if the consensus is to discard the thought. Quite frankly, we do not need all of them. Should the ones on the fortress perish in the war, it would not matter at all."
I edge closer to my companion, and lean to his ear. Surely he harbours the same desire as I. "We could... " I pause and let the muse flow through me.
We would finally know what happened to her. Violet eyes, framed by a messy haze of white hair, once the very light of our cadre. And all it would take is a bold venture back to the place we are no longer welcomed. To where that... slaughter happened.
"So what will it be?" the Councilman persists.
"That last one, we—we need time to confer amongst ourselves," Oswin answers, eyes darting to mine, "We all need to be in agreement for such an endeavor."
"It takes only one to send a message," the man explains, "but we shall reserve that matter for tomorrow."
The Council's deliberations continue long into the evening, and concludes with a sure agreement to uphold the secrecy of what has been discussed. None of that matters, all I can ponder is the journey back east, to a place stained with memories of betrayal and bloodshed.
Herald protect me...
======
-2327 Military Hours
-Tartarus Base, Habitation Module 03
"Hurry up, don't wanna say it again. Move it!" At the sharp tone, the locals all desperately align themselves in a neat line. The shuffle of footsteps echoes through the room as they form up with military precision, their feet planted together and hands straight and positioned at their sides—just like we taught them to.
"No sudden gestures and keep your mouths shut," Douglas intones, and presents his weapon down the formation.
"Hold still," I walk over to the formation, setting the thermographic camera right on the two women at the left. Both their silhouettes appear on screen, draped in a hazy orange that outlines their slender figure.
As I adjust the focus to accommodate their proximity, the details become clearer and minor variations can seen across their body. The subtle blend of orange and reds contrasts drastically against the darkened surroundings and reveals no anomalies. The two ladies are clean.
Methodically, I proceed down the file and register similar visual reads from the rest. Nothing stands out, just like the last check over six hours ago. It is a tedious arrangement, maybe bordering on the edge of paranoia. I doubt any of them would suddenly turn into a block of mist. But on the off chance of that happening, we would be somewhat prepared.
"All clear," I sound out, and gesture for the Euralians to relax. Almost immediately the formation collapses, and they soon retire for the day. None of them spoke as they ascend the stairs, and that is how we prefer it—minimize interactions where possible.
"Good," Douglas returns, bringing his weapon down, "come on, too much feminine energy for my tastes."
I turn around, leaving them to their own and proceed out the prefab. "That's their only saving grace."
My less-than-stellar impressions of them will never change. They've lost all goodwill by taking part in that assault. Hate is still too strong of a word, but I was skirting on the edge of it.
As we pass through the exit, a prickling sensation behind sends me to a halt. It can only be explained by a persistent gaze on my back. Turning around, my suspicions are confirmed. That same woman, the one with a different uniform to the rest. Her eyes sear into mine, a soft shade of violet—almost welcoming and rich in emotion.
There she stands, her lips parted, as though withholding a trove of thoughts. It does not matter even if she speaks, we will never understand any of it. So what exactly is she doing?
In the end though, it is much easier to ignore it entirely. She is the same as the rest of them. Just locking eyes with her is enough for a frown to erupt. "Fucking locals," I murmur with a bitter tone, making sure my voice is audible for her benefit.
They're all the same, and she's no exception.
===end===
History is molded by the victorious
The present, by the audacious
The future, by the ambitious
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AU: I've decided to implement a chapter update progress bar by my profile summary.
Hopefully this will address the readers who really do look forward to the next update ^,^