The Elder Star lit the cloudless morning skies above the capital. The city’s stone embraced its glow whilst a shallow gust danced with crisp, brown leaves upon the cobbles. A rare, dry day allowed stall owners and traveling merchants to wave customers through the deep veins of Al’Vie Al’Viet with ease. Those with coin to spare would glide around those without, glancing upon goods from all over the island continent whilst avoiding the eyes of those selling. It was hard to turn down the business of a Veletian merchant, and as soon as you acknowledged their presence, the dealings began.

Those with more sense than wealth did what they could to wade through these streets. Traveling from wall to wall would take a day and getting caught in the wrong thoroughfare at the wrong time would extend that considerably. The sensible planned accordingly. But the brave or daft would use the Dire Alleys – this was not their official name of course, but well suited considering the criminality that would often take place within their depths.

The hectic disorientation of the city would wash away when traveling from South to North, as there was truly little need for merchants and travellers to venture past the capital’s northern gate. A day’s travel beyond was a forest, and a two day's journey through the thick, salted mist and dark, dense trees was the Morren mountains. They look over themselves up there, and rarely deal with the world beyond there hunting grounds.

In a cottage, within the northern boundaries of the capital, Theniel grasped the porcelain sink in his kitchen and oversaw his garden as it danced in the autumnal breeze. He found himself at this window a lot recently, as the serene view outside let his mind wander. The young man was once again within a memory from a few years prior, when he and his brother Keller were in that garden celebrating. Keller was chosen to lead Al’Vie Al’Viet that day, and Theniel was chosen to lead the City Guard - Captain of the Veletian Fencers.

It was a day of paperwork, meetings, and darting from cramped offices to cold marble chambers, but in the evening light they sat outside Theniel’s cottage and drank. The hesitations and nerves of the day were left at the garden gate, and they laughed along with family and passers-by alike into the early hours of the next morning. Keller slept at the kitchen table that night; an empty wine glass lazily grasped by his almost lifeless fingers.

Theniel’s wife Violette chuckled drunkenly as she helped him to bed and with one last glance to his brother, his pride settled deep into his chest.

He blinked away the memory and sharply exhaled with a heavy heart, as he heard Violette moving through their home. The young man turned to smile at his wife as she entered the room, trying to ignore the same kitchen table that lingered behind her.

“I told you – those Blackvines have been on their last legs for weeks now. They’re not going to start growing just because you stare at them every morning” she smiled. Theniel laughed as he kissed her on the cheek. “It’s time we get going. You know I don’t mind going on your behalf if you w-”

“It’s fine” he sighed, grabbing a heavy burlap sack from beside the kitchen door “Plus all of this is bloody heavy. I’m pretty sure it's all here but I might as well check again”.

Even with his back turned as he hunched over the sack; he could sense Violette shaking her head behind him. He didn’t blame her; he must have already checked a dozen times that morning alone. Boots, gloves, and uniform – all tailored from the highest quality Ratlas leather. All present, all still accounted for. He was hoping that by the end of the day it would still be his to bring back, but he doubted it greatly.

The walk to the centre of the city began with earthy trails carved out by caravans and hooves and ended with dark cobbles and paved stones. As they made their way into the heart of the city, the chimes of the capital bells could be heard - signalling the prohibition of trade within the areas surrounding the council halls. This was procedure when voting was to begin for a new Mayor, and upon the death of a member of office, but this was the first time that Theniel could recall where the bells were rung to signal both occasions in unison.

*

“Theniel Tiet. Please confirm that you stand here today as head of your elected family and represent their compliance within these proceedings”.

The hall was littered with robed council members, cramped to capacity upon oak pews. Their silence was deafening. Judgemental and prejudicial. Theniel stood alone at the head of the marble steps before them. The request bounced from the head council member to every marbled wall around him.

“I confirm that I, Theniel Tiet, am acting head of the elected family, Tiet. My family comply with these proceedings, and I stand for their interests in this matter”.

He learnt the formalities of a council chamber the hard way. He was never cut out for the hearings of an elected life - that was Keller’s forte. Theniel’s only interest was in the protection of the walls, and leading good men. However, after the occasional reprimand of his own, Theniel learnt from his brother. The council head nodded, glanced at his papers and continued.

“Many thanks. Before we begin, I would like it noted that as of this morning Master Tiet’s family have turned in all equipment and responsibilities belonging to that of the city. Additionally, I would like to thank you and your family for your compliance through this time of mourning.”

More than a few heads began to shake in careless disapproval of the empathetic remark. This wasn’t unnoticed by the council head, who cleared his throat and looked back to Theniel as he continued.

“To the matter of the hearing. We are present today to mark the guilt and subsequent execution of Keller Tiet - Elected Mayor of this great city and prior head of the elected family, Tiet”.

Theniel carefully dipped his head low as a minor disturbance began amongst the crowd. He allowed his auburn hair to fall over his face - more to hide the gritting of his teeth than any ounce of shame. As he raised his head once more, he caught a glimpse of Violette and his mother on the balcony above the barking council members. With a confident nod from his mother, he looked back to the hearing. The muttering began to climb as the head showed annoyance towards the crowd behind him.

“Have it noted that I have requested a lack of childish demeanour from our respected council members, scribe - have it noted!” As the scribe began to frantically tear into his parchment, silence fell upon the hall once again. “On the 78th day of this 1272nd year of the Elder Star, the ever watchful and vigilant city of Copulous assigned an ordained executioner to conduct judgement of corruption upon Keller Tiet. This was conducted 3 days later upon the 81st day of the same year, within the Mayoral estate. Theniel Tiet, as head and representative of the elected family, Tiet - do you accept judgement has been passed following correct procedures as documented within this state’s laws?”

Theniel wanted to break. He wanted to spit and curse at the melting, aged faces before him. Instead, he thought of his mother’s words before the hearing.

Fucken’ around in there isn’t going to help us! They won’t hear anything more than agreement. You lose it in there and you’re going to make things worse for all of us!

“...I and my family accept” he stopped his face from falling below his hair a second time and kept his calm.

“Thank you Theniel, and the respective elected family members. Have it noted that the Tiet family have followed our proceedings. Your fellow elected family members have relinquished their roles within the city council. However, I understand that you yourself wished for a vote to hold on to your own title - that of Captain of the Veletian Fencers. This is of course within your rights to request. Is this correct?”

“It is a role I feel I have carried out well, and the city has benefitted from my efforts…”

The slight of supplying an emotional response fell upon deaf ears.

“... This is correct, head counsellor” He sighed in defeat.

“As is procedure in this situation, we have allowed a vote to take place within the City Guard. As it is the fine soldiers of Al’Viet that are to be commanded by the captain, it is only fair that we allow them this responsibility on behalf of the city…” The counsellor looked at his paper, and the moment he glanced back, Theniel already knew the answer from the remorse in his eyes.

“... and I’m afraid they have voted against. Unanimously”

Theniel shook his head in bemusement and looked to the scribe.

Have it noted he thought bitterly.

*

The vote and later election of the new Mayor, Durial Phent, took place immediately, and appropriate roles were dispersed amongst his family within the day. For Theniel, the rest of the day was spent with the newly shunned Tiets at his cottage. He was thankful for the way his mother managed the family. Her crude humour and rugged western shore dialect had his home filled with laughter and drunkenness by sunset. Her free arm hooked a hold of Violette, nearly throwing ale out of her makeshift goblet - an empty plant pot - and jokingly praised her.

“Ere petal! Smart thinking not taking the family name when ye wed my youngest!” A silent hiccup interrupted as she waved an index finger at Theniel. “All this time I've been thinking… why would the poor lass wante’ keep a freakish name like ‘Diassi’?”

Theniel’s three sisters looked on the very edge of wetting themselves as their dear mother drunkenly elongated Violette’s family name. “Diiiaaaaassssiiiiii? Diiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaarsey? I mean c’mon!”

Violette, always a fan of Megrit’s humour, wiped a tear from her eye as she howled in a drunken stupor.

“To Violette Diaaaaarsey - The only one of us cunts who saw this coming!”

Megrit attempted to down her plant pot as the family cheered Violette, but then looked to Theniel in confusion.

“Theni love - are you sure you don’t have nee more glasses? This has got friggin’ holes in the bottom of it!”

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Theniel and his family laughed into the night, but as his sisters and their partners each left for their own homes, the family began to dwindle, and the silence crept back in. Violette and Megrit chatted together as Theniel found himself back in his own thoughts, this time from the garden looking in. He wasn’t anywhere in particular, not lost in a single memory, but instead gliding through different moments and conversations with his brother. He knew in his heart that Keller wasn’t corrupt - he didn’t have the capacity, or even morality, to lie or cheat. Even if he wanted to.

“What are ye doing out here?”

Theniel’s mother nudged him from his thoughts as she handed him another drink. She tried to wrestle a smile from her son as she whispered mischievously.

“Glad everyone’s gone home - I have a proper cup now!”

As always, Megrit had sobered up throughout the night, despite drinking most of the family under the table. With a single glance into Theniel’s eyes her intuition as a mother led her to the correct conclusion.

“Keller wasn’t dodgy. Your brother was as honest as a priest… as stupid as one sometimes an 'all!” She sipped at her ale as Theniel laughed quietly.

“What about you though - What are you going to do, now?”

“I dinar, mam” His mother’s western accent had caught him accidentally, and her eyebrows raised in amused surprise.

“I don’t know, mother…” he corrected.

“Don’t hide ye western ties, lad. The Western Shores – Inherited from the sky skins. We may be mere children of spring like the majority of this bloody island, but we have their blood in our veins too, lad . They didn’t fuck around with scribes and marble halls. You and Keller always took after me - west through and through. It was yer sisters who took after your dad and all the capital’s fancy shite.”

“Dad was dented in the head, mam - he lost the plot and wandered off”.

“You can’t lose summit you never had, Theni. He was wrong in the head when I met him… Not in a bad way mind you.” Megrit smiled as she thought back. “He gave me more kids than he did years - then off he trots down the road. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got distracted chasing a fucking butterfly and lost his way... There was a reason they called him Potterman, and it wasn’t because he was good with clay!”

Theniel’s mother gave him another kind nudge as he appeared to lose himself in his thoughts once more.

“... He left me with you on the way though. And whatever you're going to do now, me and your Vi will have yer back!”

*

Normality took some time to wash over the Tiet family. All jokes aside, Theniel was glad that his wife had not taken the family name. As a Diassi, Violette continued to work with the local stable master without hindrance, and any sly comments by local patrons were promptly dealt with by her protective co-workers. He would make a point to see her at work with the horses, at least once a week.

There was something about seeing his Vi on horseback that mesmerised him. The air catching her rose red curls as she rode them through the pasture, the look in her eye when she caught him smiling, entranced. As with all children of spring, her skin held a sun-kissed bronze that allowed the Elder Star to dance upon it, and when she would dismount from her steed, her hair would always fall upon her shoulders and perfectly frame her face. In that moment, every single time, the bronze of her skin would appear like gold to him.

Despite these brief moments of happiness Theniel found himself in a rut, despite being allowed to continue to serve as a Veletian fencer on patrols. The other soldiers, some of which he once considered to be friends, had shunned him purely due to association.

He was aware that some of it was probably due to pressure from their own family members, or even fear of being tarred with the same brush, but Theniel could not forget the fact that all his men voted unanimously against him. After two weeks of lonely patrols and dirty looks, he eventually accepted that being a member of the guard was not in his future, and graciously stepped away from the responsibility.

His mother thankfully had a self-owned smithy that she was able to return to. She had the means to close shop and to live on comfortable wealth for the rest of her days, however she was adamant that hitting large shards of fiery metal was ‘therapeutic’ and kept her in shape. Despite the Tiet name being run through the mud, many fencers of renown could not deny that having the infamous Megrit back at an anvil was a godsend. As such, they would frequent the smithy for new weapons and armour.

She had a special way with metal and made some of the finest Veletian Foil Whips in the city, including a matching pair that she gave to Theniel and Violette on their wedding day. They regularly sparred together with them as Violette was never formally trained and wished to one day surpass her husband – a threat meant in humour, but which spurred Theniel on with his own development, nevertheless.

For the first time in his adult life Theniel was unemployed. He would take occasional shifts in his mother’s smithy but didn’t appear to provide much assistance. Megrit often commented kindly on his efforts regardless.

“You’re gifted at using Foils, Theni - but you can’t make them fer shite!”

Whether consciously or not, Theniel’s three sisters, the triplets, had also distanced themselves from the family. They had wed into other family names some years prior, and whilst the names were well respected, the husbands who gifted them were very eager to follow the crowd. Cesinia, the first sister to marry, did take after her mother in some regard, however. She was much too outspoken to be ordered around by anyone, especially a spineless husband. She would visit Theniel and Violette’s cottage as a means of punishment when she and her other half did not see eye to eye.

Theniel assumed one of these impromptu visits was about to occur, when one morning he noticed a carriage pulling up beside his gate. Instinctually, he set the kettle upon the hob and fetched some of the final Black Vine leaves from his failed plant in the garden. Upon waiting for Cesinia to burst through the door with a tale of ill-conceived betrayal on her husband’s part, there was nothing. He waited a while longer, as she was often one to get lost in idle gossip with the neighbours. Eventually the kettle upon the stove began to boil.

What is she doing? He thought to himself as he lifted the heavy copper onto the solid oak of the table.

“Oh splendid! Is that vine leaf?”

Theniel’s eyes darted to the open window. Peering in enthusiastically was an old, spritely man. He was glancing between the bowl of leaves and Theniel with pleasant, yet eager eyes. The old man’s fingers were delicately gripped upon the bottom of the window frame, as an inquisitive, yet innocent, expression hid behind a large beard of silver and black hair, awaiting Theniel’s response.

“Erm yes, it is. Can I… help you?”

The old man suddenly realised how this must have appeared and tutted at himself as he rolled his eyes with mild exaggeration.

“Apologies, apologies! Arkham, here! Arkham Drocdorian! I appear to be lost, you see. I was wondering if you could point me towards a mister Theniel Tiet – but then I saw the tea leaves and smelt they were in fact vine leaves and… I mean they smell lovely, but I think the plant you got them from might be on death’s door if you don’t mind me saying…” The old man nodded to the wilting vine, which was still fighting for its life, beside him.

The stranger took a few manic, strong whiffs as he raised his nostrils into the air.

“Yes, I wouldn’t pick any more from the same Black Vine, if it’s still standing after today, that is. After a certain point they become poisonous you see! Death in the vine, death in the leaf as they always say. Or they should say rather! I'm unsure if that is a saying…”

The long stream of words was promptly followed by a strong laugh as he slapped the windowsill. Theniel laughed along politely as he walked towards, and hesitantly opened, the front door beside the old man.

“I’m Theniel, mister… Drocdorian?”

Arkham gave a slight skip as he approached Theniel with his arm out for a formal shake of the hand, only to change his mind at the last second, gently slapping Theniel on the shoulder.

“Marvellous! Drocdorian indeed, Theniel! But call me Arkham, please. You see I have come a long way to see you, sir. An awfully long way. Knew where I was going the entire time, but sadly got lost right at the end, although I suppose finding a city in a country is much easier than finding a man in a city! They should say that too if they don’t already!”

Without much thought, the two began naturally walking through the kitchen to the table which held the tea, as Theniel tried to keep up with the conversation. And just as Arkham was about to take a chair he snapped from his frantic waffle.

“Oh my, gracious me - I just walked us both into your house without an invitation! Do you mind Theniel, my boy, if I…”

“No not at all, have a seat” Theniel laughed, still trying to understand what was going on around him. Arkham spent a few minor moments reclaiming his breath as Theniel poured the tea. The word marvellous repeated under the old man’s breath as he saw the boiled water begin to turn black from the vine leaves. Theniel didn’t know where to start, or what to ask first. However, he didn’t need to worry about this as the moment he sat down, the aged gentleman began.

“I have important news that concerns you, you see, and your dear mother and sisters, and I understand you have a wife also - hmmm begging your pardon - young Violette Tiet also, yes?”

Theniel nodded patiently and politely corrected.

“Violette Diassi, yes”

“Ah yes! You Veletians allow names to be kept if wished, yes, yes, very progressive, your people. We have a lot to learn from you in the East, in Meleth-”

“You’re from Meleth?” Theniel could not help but to interject “You’ve travelled all the way from Meleth? That must have taken… weeks?”

“About a fortnight from the border yes, yes, but in fact it’s taken just over a month from my capital to your capital. Certainly, made me wish Highrise was closer to the border indeed, tensions be damned!”

Theniel resisted further interruptions.

“In normal circumstances I would have just sent a blasted courier bird, you see, but I needed to be here anyway, and the information can’t in all consciousness be trusted with any third party - even if it is a ruddy pigeon! You can’t trust anything that defecates from a height… They should certainly say that...”

Arkham became aware of his own ramblings and stopped himself mid thought.

“Apologies, my boy. My train of thought is a victim of age, you see. Medicinal remedies help, however - slows down the tongue and organises the mind.”

“What can I get you? Is there anything you need?”

Arkham brushed his beard and reached into the satchel which rested on his lap.

“A good double of Meleth whisker and a pouch of Dok Morren tobacco, but don’t trouble yourself, mister Tiet - I have my own...”

By the time that Arkham had sufficiently medicated himself to coherence, Violette had returned home, and formalities had been exchanged.

“I’m sure your very welcoming husband would love to bring you up to speed, my dear. But I'm afraid I have yet to bring Theniel up to speed myself, you see?” he smiled politely and finished his second glass of whisker. “The good news, I suppose, is that we can discuss this with everyone on par, as it were”.

He looked at Theniel with slight hesitation. “What I’m about to tell you may cause panic, or questions, so I must first make this known - despite the apparent time constraints involved, we have many days before anything may come to pass, my boy. Do you understand?”

Violette took Theniel’s hand as he nodded.

“I’ve assumed this may be about Keller - is that right?”

“It is about your brother… but it is also about many other things that are about to occur. Things that the three of us have little control over. It’s important that you recognise this. The wheels are already in motion, so to speak.” Arkham lit his rolled tobacco, wrapped in a long tube of fine paper which hung from his brittle fingers. “I’m under no illusion as to how Meleth is perceived on this side of the continent, so you have most likely guessed what lies at the heart of all of this…”

Violette attempted to hold back any sign of contempt for the Meletians as she replied “Magic…”

“Indeed. For better or worse, that is what Meleth will always be known for. Despite being a practitioner myself, I empathise with your own interests to limit its use. Despite the strides we have taken, it is dangerous in the wrong hands. As we are all too aware, given that your fine country was born from the rift that was caused, in what was once a unified continent.”

Arkham took a draw of his tobacco and continued. “I do not wish to bore you with the intricacies of our ways, but simply put - different forms of magics are evoked through different languages and tempos in which the tongue is chanted, so to speak.”

“Meletian, Veletian and Sha’ard” Violette answered. Theniel was one of the few to know the dark history of Violette’s family, that until recently they supported the scholars of Meleth in secrecy. Something almost taboo within the city walls.

“Yes, my dear. The dead languages of our neighbouring regions, and the Sha’ard. Not just a dead language, but a dead civilisation from the west - Sky skins as they are sometimes… indelicately referred” Theniel nodded. “I’m a scholar at our capital, Highrise. It’s my job to monitor students and colleagues alike, to ensure that these languages are not abused, you see. Whilst I specialise in the imbuing of properties within objects, an art originating from your Veletian dialect, I was made aware that a fellow scholar had begun to reach beyond his station. Secret meetings with his close aids, disappearing for days at a time, general rumours of ill doings. Despite the numerous reports from the Teaching towers, I was unable to confirm anything until six weeks passed.

“Our man, Shaltannon, had abandoned his offices and home, along with several others who saw themselves as loyal followers” Arkham almost spat at the thought. “Apparently they met in dark chambers like some form of ill-conceived cult… Pathetically childish!”

“What did you find?” Violette, aware of the devastation that could be caused, could no longer hide her concern.

“... Children” the old man sighed. “All healthy and unharmed. But children nonetheless, who were likely abducted from the slums below the academy. At first, we concluded that they may have been trying to instruct these children, creating some form of youth militia, giving up when reaching the obvious conclusion that children are ill-equipped for such teachings. But then I saw the documents he had left behind.”

Arkham tapped his tobacco over the tray on the table and appeared to relive the fear of what he found.

“I have no idea where he found this knowledge, but he knew things. History of a long forgotten, even considered mythical, nation. Whilst we have never known the nation's true name, we in the scholarly circles have often just referred to it as the Keep, due to folk tales and descriptions passed through generations.” Arkham leant forward in earnest as he began to put this information together.

“Shaltannon had found a long-forgotten language, and with it, an unknown form of magic. And from what I’ve read, this wasn’t the type of sorcery that heals or enchants. It even makes the destructive art of my own Meletian heritage appear tame! This was something… worse. An art of communing… or summoning, perhaps.”

“Summoning what?” Whilst Violette had a family history which involved the support of magic, the Tiet family had little knowledge or care for such things. Theniel could tell by his wife's expression that he should be a lot more concerned than he was.

“We don’t know. But the children were involved somehow. I went to my King with the news, a man I had once respected greatly, despite his shortcomings. However, his majesty Murdoc IV already knew of Shaltannon’s so called ‘achievements’ and requested a demonstration of his newly found ‘strategic abilities’ whatever that may mean…”

“He’s coming here...” Theniel leapt from his chair, with his hands still planted firmly upon the table “He wants to reclaim Al’Viet? Why!?”

“I don’t think he wants to retake this land...” The mage pondered, stubbing out his tobacco as fine embers floated amongst the candlelight. “I’ve surmised that he means to destroy it”.

Arkham pulled himself up to Theniel with a hand upon the young man’s shoulder. “Shaltannon leads the Meletian army here, my friend. And with this new magic of his, I doubt he will even need them...” Theniel looked to Violette and could tell she had also pieced it together.

“They had Copulous execute my brother…”

“It seems that there is a corrupt pope in the clergy” Arkham sympathised “And they have assisted Shaltannon by removing this city’s most valuable assets – a capable leader, and his just as capable family”.

“I need both of you to come with me, there is someone I’d like you to meet…”