A mystic gloom enveloped Rune as he stepped onto the obsidian tile, servants abound, rows of guards to its sides. Backset to a comically large estate was a scattering swirl of stars, the twin moons absent. Iron trees overlooked the path— twisted and gnarled—dual-colored red-black grass drained the soil of its essence.
The crowning jewel to the tapestry of a sight was the gleaming black, silver, and purple living estate. Wood turned, metal undulated as if it were the sea. Only the pathways remained stable. High-pitched musical notes followed after the low hums coming from insects abound. Servants continued about their tasks, and the combatants within merely glanced at Rune before paying him no extra heed.
A short absence of air alerted Rune. An armored hand palmed itself on his shoulder across from Lilith’s roost.
“Welcome to the Sylen’s Mire. A private realm for the City Lord and those that shall come after her.” Jordis angled her shoulder to the side and jutted out with her chin, “Down this path in the estate is the City Lord waiting on you. Come.”
Releasing her grasp from Rune’s shoulder, the pair slowly walked forward. Rune took the opportunity to understand his surroundings.
It never hurt to be careful—certainly not now—what with a walking monster like Jordis next to him and another more potent one waiting within.
Palming over his mask, the distorted voice came through his fingers, “Your guard won’t continue to get in my way after this, will they?”
“Let them get in our way, wouldn’t that make it more interesting? All the fun’s been taken by you and Sooty lately.” Xera said.
“Lass, while the giant of a woman beside us can’t hear a peep out of you, the lad ain’t exactly in the proper situation to respond to you.”
“Ah, fine, suppose I can keep to my wandly self for a bit longer, you owe me some talking time soon, Luke!”
Ripping into the middle of Xera’s words, Jordis responded to Rune, “That’s up to the Lady to decide, not me, masked one.”
The blue wisps from Rune’s mask flickered in response to the lackluster commitment, “Evasive.”
Jordis barked in laughter, “You can’t expect a hands-free approach, not with all the rumors about you.”
Internally groaning, Rune thinks, Yelaris. Perhaps I had him do his end of the deal too well.
Rune could swear Lilith was patting his shoulder with one of her tendrils. Leave it to Sooty to have a soft side, even disguised as an eldritch horror.
As the misunderstood man walked beside the guard commander, Jordis, notes of soft music, akin to the sounds of a slow-playing violin, overtook Rune’s train of thought.
“That sound…” Rune spilled out the words, unable to fully formulate or express their importance.
Stepping with power, Jordis sighs, “The Lady never stops playing lately, not a pleasant sign.”
Passing by the rows of guards, servants, or otherwise lining the obsidian path, the pair entered into the City Lord’s manner. Upon entry, Rune could perceive mana in the air, etchings pulsing with essence, and brands powered by energy or rage. Despite their somewhat fragile or delicate tapestry, the very walls in the manor may as well have been made of mana-reinforced Mythril.
Maids and butlers bowed to Commander Jordis upon their entry. An older grey furred Tora man strode forth with grace. After a perfunctory bow, he spoke, “To what do we owe the honor, Dawn Lord Jordis.”
The blond woman harrumphed in response, “That title is no longer mine after swearing service to Lady Cyrn, Abel. It’s Commander now. Never mind the flattery; this man, Rune, has caught the Lady’s eye. Escort him to see her, should she be ready. I’m off.”
Leaving me all alone? What would stop me from playing to the City Lord’s desires now? Rune contemplated.
As if able to read his mind, Jordis spoke again, “Now that he’s in the manor, the maniac can only leave with the Lady’s permission. My presence is redundant, good evening to you, Abel. Inform the Lady I’ve done her orders to the letter.” Without waiting for the butler, Abel, to respond, Jordis briskly returned to the obsidian path outside the manor’s walls.
With a smile not reaching his eyes, Abel politely began to instruct Rune, “Sir Rune, the City Lord has been ever so delightedly awaiting your presence. Eager to meet what she called ‘Deter’s next seed,’ that man has built quite a reputation with the Lady. It is he who convinced Jordis to her side, you see.”
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Slowly waiving a hand, Rune stared back with pulsing blue eyes behind his mask, “This entire estate is her domain.” Rune faintly envisioned the power within the air responding to the low note music played by presumably the City Lord. Bending to the music’s will, chains of power practically wrapped close to his body. Releasing a low laugh, Rune continued, “Lead me.”
Abel’s fur bristled at first, only to relax once Rune accepted his part. “Well then, if you’d follow the path behind me, Sir Rune. The Lady is only ensuring you hear her words. Unsavory types have caused her more trouble than I care to admit.”
The Tora butler moved with a measured gait, fitting toward the typical black and white garb one would expect a member of his profession to wear. Themes of purple or silver repeated itself in the decor around Rune. Drapes, statues, paintings, even the wall colors. Ever so often, hints of blue or yellow would break the monotony.
Sooty, otherwise Lilith in the current Eldritch form Rune’s mask disguised her in, would occasionally reach out with a feeler to any random piece of interest to her. They tended to be the silver pieces garnishing furniture.
Xera often reacted with an ‘oo’ or ‘ah,’ much like a child would seeing an otherwise everyday sight for the first time. Wayfinder, to his credit, remained silent throughout the walk. Over a minute later, Abel stopped before an oversized twin door made of unidentified black wood. Rune could clearly hear the source of the music on the other side.
Gripping one of the two handles, Abel opened a door at a slow pace, announcing his and Rune’s presence. “Lady Cyrn, the masked one you requested is here.”
The music twisted and stopped for but a moment before continuing, “Dear me, and the song’s only begun. Come, ‘Rune,’ we have a conversation to enjoy together.” The City Lord’s voice turned sharp, “Abel, leave us and shut the door once our guest is in the chamber. This matter will require complete privacy.”
After half forcibly shoving Rune inside the City Lord’s room, Abel assented while shutting the entrance now behind Rune. “I will inform other guests not to approach, my Lady.”
“See that you do.”
Taking advantage of the small gap silence provided, Rune observed the room. The City Lord, Ophelia Cyrn, rested upon a purple and silver throne compromised of crystal, metal, and wood. Cushioned by blue fabric. The woman in question played with a twisted wand and gray tome. Musical notes flowed from its pages, visible to the naked eye.
Above was a vaulted ceiling with plain decoration, still following the typical silver and purple. Various chairs and small tables were pushed to the sides of the giant, spacious room. Interrupting Rune’s observation was the feeling of Ophelia’s green eyes boring into him and the rhythmic tap of her fingers upon the throne on which she sat.
Due to Rune failing to respond as the City Lord desired, Ophelia strung her wand across one of her floating tome’s pages. A barrier enveloped the room. Annoyed at Rune’s lack of decorum and prolonged silence, the City Lord forced the interaction forward.
“I’ve silenced the area. None shall hear or scry upon the words we are to exchange from therein, Luke Wallace.”
Ice flashed from Rune’s feet as it formed in the room. The City Lord played an additional note, shattering it.
“Young Defier, listen to what it is I have to say. Your life is not at stake here. You use this quaint ‘Rune’ identity to acquire autonomy, perhaps to gain information or take action that a Defier publicly struggles to balance, especially that which Luke Wallace would be denied at every turn. That is, where your father disappeared to?”
Anger welled up within Rune, no, Luke, before the ice within froze it. An icy mist subconsciously flowed from the eye holes on his mask.
Laughing lightly in genuine amusement, Ophelia swirled her wand, “That mastery over a rare element is of more harm than good to this desired identity. Without my covering for you, the recent immigration wave from the coming Tide, and your Defiers trying to clean your mess, all three of the ruling underworld powers would know who exactly the fool, Rune, would be.”
Tightly gripping his hands, Luke spoke behind the mask, “Get to the point, City Lord.”
Putting a hand over her mouth, Ophelia hid her smile, “My dear boy, do you not see it already? I know the Miels or Pyrites are connected to Paul Wallace’s disappearance. If they learned ‘Rune’ was his son, could you ever pry that connection from them?” The City Lord hooded her eyes at Luke, “Not unless you could uproot their entire family. Something even I am incapable of.”
“And what would you have me do? What is your offer, City Lord?”
Readjusting her legs, Ophelia straightened her previously relaxed posture, “You excised multiple mid-rank and lower end gangs from Sylen in the hopes of taking vengeance for your companion. That rushed move could expose who ‘Rune’ is and thus threaten your chances to follow your father’s vanishing trail.”
Calming his nerves, Luke contemplated taking off the mask but decided against it, “If you’re so sure you know who I am. Then why would that be any different for the Red Gorrids or Golden Lions? How would the Pyrites or Miels fail to understand?”
“Your ability to listen drops when controlled by emotions, Defier Luke. Through my twisting reports on you and efforts from your Defier family, the other powers believe ‘Rune’ is a mage with the ability to elementalize water into his spells. A migrant seeking shelter from the Tides, a misguided, foolish vigilante.”
Stepping up from her throne, the City Lord slowly closed the distance between her and Luke, tapping her floating tome all the while. She pressed harshly once with her forward foot and reappeared an inch from Luke’s ear, her black hair wisping against Luke’s mask.
“Old foxes won’t be fooled forever, ‘Rune.’ Shall we discuss terms? I assist you in covering from a fatal mistake, and you assist me with your abilities as I desire. A future talent such as you would be wasted holed up in the Defier’s branch alone. Will you listen to my proposal? Both sides will benefit in the end.”
Luke stared into the City Lord’s analytical eyes, he felt like a piece in her palm. Played to the tune of the music flowing throughout the room even now. Yet, this woman had accurately grasped his greatest weakness.
The Reaver’s desire to find his dad.
Widening his stance, Luke deflated his voice, “What did you have in mind?”
Leaning back and clasping her hands, Ophelia brilliantly smiled, “I do love when a man knows flexibility.”