"My feet hurt..." Claude complained to Alex for probably the fifth time that day. He had good reason to, of course.
Alex had insisted on a new form of practice for these past few days of travel. Claude didn't see much point in learning how to dance, but Alex usually had good reason for what he made Claude do. Usually.
They had reached a section of the forest where the usual pines gave way for oak and maple, some of them surprisingly taller than the pines. While the new species didn't seem to fit the climate of Battle's domain, the presence of those trees - along with increasing foot traffic along the path - indicated that the pair was approaching the Citadel of Leaves.
Knowing that complaining wouldn't actually get Alex to change their routine, Claude switched tracks, asking the biggest question that Alex had previously deferred answering.
"So what happened with the centurion?" Claude wasn't hopeful that he'd get a meaningful answer, but maybe now that they could see wooden walls in the distance, and orchards to either side, Alex would finally agree to sate his curiosity.
Of course, Alexander quickly shattered those hopes. "Why, we engaged in a riveting discourse! My arguments prevailed, of course."
Claude knew getting more than that would be a futile effort, but couldn't help but ask anyway. "Did you have to fight the wyvern?"
"I merely taught it some manners."
"Really?"
Alex nodded seriously. "Once it had learned a few tricks, the centurion had no choice but to concede to my superior acumen, scrambling to regain the favor of his beloved companion."
"You stole his pet?"
"Not at all! I can't help it if my charming self can bewitch even the scaliest of beasts." He ran a hand through his hair, ending with a flourish, before turning to Claude in expectation.
Claude deadpanned, instead looking to their surroundings for more meaningful entertainment.
As the outer walls of the citadel came into view, he could make out more detail. While he knew they were made of wood, he hadn't realized the watchtowers, spaced at regular points along it, were actually trees, topped by bushy leaves that shaded the patrolling guards... and gardeners, it seemed.
Claude watched several people carrying water and soil between the bases of the trees, with others laying their hands on the trunks directly, presumably using their facets to check the trees' health, or to direct their growth in some way.
Over the tops of the wall, he could see further layers of fortification peaking just a bit taller, deeper into the city, along with several trees that stretched dramatically higher than any other, spaced evenly around the citadel. A single humongous tree also seemed to be present near the presumed center of the municipality.
Outside the walls, smaller homes and more cramped abodes occupied any space not taken up by orchards or other random trees, though a fair distance was left around the wall itself. That space was probably kept clear of any obstruction or loiterers by the wall's guards.
The gates themselves had a line of people waiting to get in; traffic appeared rather dense at this time of day, though it wasn't yet noon as Alex and Claude arrived, passing through customs rather quickly thanks to Claude's Aspect status.
As they walked along the city's streets, heading deeper into the town, Alex began speaking. "Now that we're here, we'll have to meet the warlord in charge."
Claude turned to him, surprised. "What, why? Can't we just do whatever we came here for? Couldn't we have just said I had some weaker facet, or snuck in?"
Alexander surreptitiously glanced at the trees lining the roads. One could hardly take ten steps without running into one, such was their frequency. Plenty of space was left between buildings for plots of soil, and for the trees' roots to grow outward. Even the buildings themselves seemed composed of living wood, often having branches sticking out of their front, shaped into some form of advertisement or signage, or forming bridges over the streets and alleys.
He replied, "You'll find that most larger cities have some way of detecting Aspects that enter their walls. And this citadel, in particular, makes it rather difficult to sneak anywhere."
Alex continued as they marched. "Think, for a moment, about why it might be called the 'Citadel of Leaves.' What sort of security might make a place worthy of the illustrious title of citadel, such that people from all over this sector of the Dome flock to its banner for protection."
Claude's eyes widened in realization when he heard "security," then he, too, looked at the trees all around them, though his gaze held less subtlety than his master's.
Alex nodded in confirmation. "Their primary recruitment pool includes arborists, as well as any who can promote growth in other plantlife... and water manipulators." He continued in a lower tone, "Fire is a rather significant concern when their greatest defenders are the leaves themselves."
Claude continued looking around them nervously. "So they have a bunch of people looking through the trees?"
Alex's head wiggled in partial agreement. "In all likelihood, yes, but the city gets its name primarily from one man: the warlord in charge, whom we'll have to greet before we can get to our real meeting."
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"Presenting the Aspect of Thunder and his guardian. You stand under the merciful canopy of Oberon, He of 10,000 Blades, Protector of Life, and Lord of the Citadel of Leaves."
Alexander strode into the expansive room with Claude at his side, presenting a confident front, which Claude struggled to match. Claude was busy trying to keep the tension out of his muscles while he ogled the strange decor around them.
The room was practically the size of a stadium, and possessed no ceiling, instead relying on the shade of the canopy above, formed entirely from a single, gigantic tree - the same tree being used as Oberon's throne, where he looked down on the room from on high.
More reasonably-sized trees of various species lined the room, forming an orchard unlikely to be found anywhere else in the world - besides, perhaps, the domain of the Dragon of Nature herself. Between the various trees stood numerous courtiers, messengers, and attendants of the orchard, while Oberon's personal advisors stood closer to his throne.
The floor may have been composed of more than dirt, but it was hard to tell under the carpet of leaves coating nearly every square inch. The colors varied across the room, and were arranged to form various patterns, spiraling out from a central path that led from the entrance they had come through to just below Oberon's throne - a red carpet, if there ever was one.
As Alex and Claude approached the center of the room, Oberon began, "The Aspect of Thunder..." The leaves whispered in accordance with his voice, echoing his words as they rustled.
"Why have you come to my kingdom? Are you here to cause me and mine any trouble?"
Alex felt the leaves shift beneath his feet in warning.
He quickly began, "No trouble. We're just here to sight-see, really. We had heard the colors of the leaves were lovely this time of year, and stopped by to appreciate the beauty of your domain. We'll be out of your hair shortly - or leaves, as it were." He gave a boyish smile, in his effort to be disarming.
Oberon stared for a moment, before he ultimately sighed, judging him to be relatively honest, if flippant. A ripple spread through the nearby leaves in sympathy as he exhaled. The wave traveled out from his throne, jumping across the carpet of leaves on the ground, and was echoed by every tree in the room.
Alex held Claude very still at the show of intimidation, meant to demonstrate that they were well within the man's power - every leaf present could become a blade at a moment's notice.
It was either a deliberate display, or the man was so in-tune with his facet that there was no meaningful difference between his own exhale and the desires of the leaves themselves.
The latter idea was an unpleasant thought, but one that had to be considered. Alex believed it unlikely anyway, as the man couldn't be older than 40 summers.
He knew Oberon had lived through - and fought in - the previous Polemos, but the one before that? No. And though he was clearly successful in the wake of that most recent war, he had likely been sitting on his talents since then, capitalizing on his position of power to gather more followers under his banner.
He wouldn't have been forced into many true fights since establishing himself, too busy running his court and overseeing the surrounding city, thus hampering his authority's growth, except as a surveillance tool.
Regardless of Alexander's thoughts, they were still in danger should they fail to satisfy the warlord's whims. Not all of the red on the floor was from natural coloring.
"What use are you, then? What can you offer my kingdom, in exchange for the shelter of my canopy?"
Alex internally rolled his eyes at the overplayed metaphors. It was amusing at first, but the megalomania was clear to see.
He was careful not to show any of his feelings on his face, however, besides the expected acquiescence as he replied through a bow, "We have prepared a show for you, your lordship, to bring liveliness to your court."
He shoved Claude forward, whispering through his plastered smile, "This is what we practiced for."
Claude was not at all prepared for the sudden attention of every person (and plant) in the room to suddenly be on him, but he rallied quickly.
"Hello... erm, we call this one 'The Dance of the Storm.'"
He stood up fully, took a deep breath, and began humming a low note, his voice echoing throughout the room through use of his Aspect.
Taking a moment to build the ambiance, he then fluctuated his pitch, allowing the changes to come faster and faster as he continued, before he threw in a snap of his fingers. A sharp crack split the melodic humming, though it only added to the piece, rather than disrupting it.
He continued snapping along to the rhythm of the tune, maintaining his humming, as he then stomped his foot, a deeper note than any before booming out, and sending several leaves flying from his position.
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Sweat trailed down his face as he held the note, though after seeing no further reaction to his disturbing of the leaves, he continued more calmly.
His other foot gave several smaller stomps in sequence, followed by a full jump, whose landing echoed louder than any preceding steps.
Fully in the rhythm now, Claude used his other hand to tap his hip to the beat, adding another layer of percussion between his snaps and stomps.
From there, he escalated his steps, using both heels and toes to vary the sounds, until he was engaged in a full tap dance as he hummed along.
The performance continued for minutes, with Alex wearing a proud smile in the background as he tapped his own foot to the beat.
Claude ended the performance with a jump and a single clap, the sound echoing out into the now silent room, serving as a climax to the performance.
He looked to Alex behind him, who nodded with the same smile he held throughout, but then gave a pointed glance in Oberon's direction, prompting Claude to turn to the intended audience for the performance, and give a deep bow.
They were made to wait nervously for a response for several moments...
"Amusing..." The court collectively released a breath at the positive reception, including Alexander, who was now sure they'd make it out of this in one piece, as applause began to ring out from the rest of the audience.
Had they failed to provide a satisfying gift, they'd have been stuck with leaves on their persons to monitor them at all times, and encouraged to be on their way rather quickly. With this, though, they'd be able to make it to their upcoming meeting without issue.
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Razor paced down the revolution's main base in this citadel, stationed in the inner ring.
While nearly every structure in the Citadel of Leaves was primarily built from wood, theirs only appeared to be, relying on faux wood paneling and other materials reinforcing much of the structure. No leaves were allowed anywhere outside of public-facing rooms, where the only actual wood used was present in the walls.
Stringent efforts had been made to appear above-board and keep their additional rooms hidden from the warlords in charge, who would likely not look kindly on revolutionaries preparing to disrupt the status quo, especially ahead of the upcoming Polemos.
And while they had several operations underway, mostly regarding logistics and recruitment, Razor was currently occupied with the citadel's recent arrivals.
On turning the next corner, he saw the man he was looking for, and the young Aspect of Thunder. He took a moment to think, his eyes flicking upward as he approached. For as much as he cherished individuals and their freedoms, he often struggled to think of his operators as more than what they, and their facets, could provide for the cause - outside of his inner circle, that is.
Once his memory summoned the name, his eyes flicked back down and connected with the other man's. He waved good-naturedly. "Alexander! You've been well, I trust."
Alexander shot back, having noticed the hesitation. "Razor! My favorite lizard in human skin!"
He managed to make it sound like a joke, told in good humor, but Razor could see the distaste in his eyes. Not that he minded overly much; Alex consistently delivered results, and was fairly loyal to the cause, so a bit of personal dislike was forgivable.
"Glad to have you here, along with your charge." He briefly nodded to Claude, before returning his gaze to Alexander as they clasped hands.
"Of course, how could I refuse?" Alexander gave a mocking smile. "So, where are we needed next? Perhaps you'll have us climb the Peak before sunrise? Or go swimming in Tides' domain, in search of buried treasure."
Razor couldn't help but be amused by Alexander's black humor, though he wiped the smirk from his face to deliver the actual orders. "Southwest from here, actually."
Alex stopped short at that, genuinely baffled. "Are you sure? There's nothing in that direction but the chasm, which is itself just a vast expanse of nothing... unless you mean to cross it, into Artifice's domain?"
Razor shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You'll be meeting back up with the full team over there. Your boy, the Aspect of Thunder, yes? He should be handy to have with us. Introduce him to Albert, would you? And then I have a few newer recruits for you to tutor..."
"The boy's name is Claude, yes." Alexander's smile tightened minutely, along with his grip. "And, while we're here, I feel obligated to ask, would anything you'll be having him doing happen to be dangerous?"
Familiar with Alexander's hypocritical defensiveness regarding his students, Razor merely shrugged and patted Alex's shoulder with his free hand, while he detached the other from the overly long handshake. "It's as you said, isn't it? The chasm is just a whole lot of nothing."
Alex scoffed in irritation at the non-answer, but conceded for now, as there was little to actually object to as of yet. "You're the boss."
He turned to Claude and pulled him along as he walked away from Razor and this conversation. "And we'll find our own way to Albert, thank you."
Razor waved in goodbye before moving on to the next task, though only Claude saw it, returning the wave halfheartedly.
As they left, Alex sighed in reminiscence. "At least this should be relaxing. I'm sure we'll find Albert sampling the local cuisine by the ton..."
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After the clandestine meeting, and having given Claude some time to get to know Albert, the eponymous Aspect of Fishing - for whatever purposes Razor had concocted (and subsequently failed to inform anyone of, as usual) - Alex and Claude headed back down the citadel's inner streets with full bellies and high spirits.
Unfortunately, Alexander's peace of mind would take one more hit today, as a roar could be heard in the distance. Nearly every bystander on the street looked up, to see a great red wyvern approaching the citadel from the north, with a tiny figure visible upon its back.
"Of course he happened to be visiting today..." Alexander sighed, then looked around.
He approached the nearest tree, and broke off a small branch of deadwood, passing it to Claude. "Hold onto this. Behind your back, if you please."
Alexander then assumed a relaxed stance, preparing to receive the centurion, who had begun circling above them while he waited for the streets to clear.
Over the flap of the wyvern's wings, the pair of them heard a cry: "Alexander! You vicious cur!"
The wyvern came in for a landing on the street, cutting off their path as it adjusted its feet to face them head on, and crouched down to street level.
The centurion continued yelling for all to hear, from his seat atop the creature. "Our bout has not yet concluded! You still owe me a battle!"
"Syndrich! Wonderful to see you again, and so soon at that." Alexander waved, showing nothing but excitement at their reunion. But then he paused, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "But... isn't it you," he pointed at the man atop the wyvern, before continuing, "who owes a debt... to me?" His finger redirected to his own astonished face. "Has your lovely girl not been far more obedient since I left you?"
The wyvern unleashed a well-timed huff of breath through its nostrils, blanketing Alex and Claude in a brief flash of heat. Syndrich, meanwhile, simmered in his own anger, incredulous at the audacity of the man before him.
"You've infected her with the thinking of a dog!" He jabbed a finger in Alexander's direction.
Alexander raised his eyebrows at the centurion's words, before his hands shot out to his sides in an exaggerated shrug. "I don't know what you mean."
While his hands continued their journey, arcing to and fro in emphasis, the wyvern's eyes homed in on them like lasers. When they finally came to a stop, she released a short half-growl, half-roar in his direction, sounding remarkably close to a bark. Both men looked to the creature in betrayal.
Claude merely stood at Alex's side, eyes ping ponging back and forth between the participants, incredibly amused at the byplay.
Attempting to ignore what just happened, Alex picked back up: "Well! This meeting has been riveting, as usual." He clapped. "Unfortunately, Claude and I were just leaving, so we will have to cut this short." He slowly reached a hand behind his back, aware of how the wyvern's eyes still followed the action.
Syndrich rebutted triumphantly, "I don't think so! You'll not be escaping justice today." He began the process of dismounting, prepared to engage Alexander on these very streets.
Alex continued calmly, enunciating his words. "Ah, but justice is rather in the eye of the beholder, isn't it?" He then wound back, assuming the position for a strong throw, leg held in the air ahead of him.
The wyvern tensed, while Syndrich panicked upon noticing his actions, still midway through dismounting and well-entangled in his straps. He threw out a hand, "Wait!"
Claude passed the stick into Alexander's open hand.
"Fetch!" Alex whipped his arm forward, launching the stick over the nearby roofs, where it arced into the distance. The wyvern lifted off, preparing to retrieve it as Syndrich scrambled to re-secure himself.
As it flew away, Alexander sighed in relief, pushing Claude along behind him. "Let's go. No need to bother ourselves with all that."
Unfortunately, several citadel guards had gathered over the course of the conversation, both to investigate the situation, and preparing to contain any damage, should conflict have broken out.
One approached them before they could take two steps, looking stern in his plate armor - rare among the guardsmen around here. "You are in active conflict with the centurion?"
Alex shook his head vehemently as his arms swung back and forth, as if to dispel the notion. "No, no, of course not! A misunderstanding, is all! One that has already been cleared up, as you can see by my unmolested self." While he gestured to his immaculate clothing, the wyvern unleashed an earth-shattering roar in the background, several streets away. Meanwhile the centurion still saddled atop it wrestled for control over their trajectory.
The guard hid his nerves well, continuing to impede their path as more arrived to surround the pair. "Right. Well, we'd like to hold onto you for the moment, just until we can get everything cleared up, you understand." More guardsmen streamed into the area, word apparently having been sent ahead.
Alexander took in the situation, and began nodding agreeably. "Of course, of course. Claude, why don't you give these fine gentlemen a round of applause for their admirable dedication to their duty?"
Claude blinked, having been unsure what they were going to do, but smirked in malicious anticipation at hearing Alex's suggestion.
Then, he began to clap.
Though the first smack of his hands released a normal - albeit loud - sound, while their onlookers looked on in confusion, each subsequent clap released a greater sound, gaining bass tones as they escalated in volume until each clap of his palms shook the air around them.
By the time their adversaries had realized something was wrong, Alex had thoroughly plugged his ears with his fingers, and the guards found themselves unable to approach without stumbling and clutching their heads.
The pair of them began to walk toward the nearest alleyway, while the guards could hardly think through the rumbling, failing to coordinate any further response.
Despite their failures, however, and to Alexander's dread, leaves began to swirl through the air, while several more flew across the ground toward their position.
Thankfully, they faltered in their flight when they came too close to Claude, disrupted by the shockwaves he continually released, though that wouldn't last long if Oberon came down here in person.
Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Alex forewent his impromptu earplugs, instead lifting Claude by the back of his shirt and running in the direction opposite from where he sent the wyvern.
As Claude turned to look at him, surprised at being so abruptly hoisted, Alex spoke curtly: "Keep clapping."
Claude jerked his head back down, resuming his applause before too much momentum was lost.
They crossed multiple streets, with each guard that came upon them staggering back at their first direct hit of sound. More and more leaves skittered across the roads, still failing to get close, but accumulating in greater number.
Alex tilted his head in Claude's direction, speaking through the corner of his mouth as he ran. In defiance of usual physics, his voice carried through the cacophany to Claude's ear without issue. "Now project the sound the other way. Let it bounce, so they hear it as if it were coming from that direction." He pointed down the street, perpendicular to the alley they had just entered.
Claude continued rhythmically clapping, but now tilted his hands before each impact, such that the air would leave his palms at a new angle, while his tongue stuck out in concentration. The booms of thunder gradually traveled back down the road they had passed, sounding to the guards as if they had ran that way instead.
Continuing to move at a slower pace between streets, Alex watched for any approaching leaves or guards, hopeful that they'd track the sound instead.
Seeing that their immediate surroundings were clear, Alex felt it was safe to dip into a nearby shop and wait for the search to move further from their position. Claude's claps weakened with the distance he was projecting the sound, but that worked out perfectly for Alex, as they fully ceased when they went inside.
In a minute they'd resume their flight from the citadel and head southwest, once they had commandeered - or legally purchased, he supposed - some disguises for the two of them.
It'd be difficult to keep their distance from the trees, but-
A wyvern's roar pierced the background, causing Alexander to smile.
They already had distractions in place.