Orynien sat quietly in a small meeting room alongside one of his youngest guards, who stood stoically in the corner of the room, her arms crossed in front of her,shielding her tattoos from view. She was never one for words when it came to these meetings. She was there as a deterrent for conflict, and a voice of reason if the meeting warranted it. Even still, the angel king would most likely dismiss the words of a woman just months into her Ascension year. He rubbed his eyes tenderly and shuddered at the flash of wings that had granted itself in a vision the nights before the meeting.
Demetani shifted on her feet, and spoke in a quieted tone, “Are you sure about this Your Highness?”
Orynien stiffened and did not take his eyes off the vacant chair across from him, “I know what I saw Demetani. It is time to address it. For Etecia,”
The door opened and Orynien tried to keep contempt from his face as he watched Mortaza Morrigan enter the room, accompanied by his guardsman, both dressed in formal attire for the ball. The torchlight flickered, highlighting the man’s shoulder length black hair. Their wings were bound as he had requested, though Orynien had picked this room specifically so they did not have the room to release them if they had chosen not to heed his request.
“Welcome Mortaza,” Orynien waved a hand to the seat in front of him for the angel king to have a seat.
Mortaza nodded to him casually and took his seat, “It is rare that you invite me to such festivities Oryn, I assume this is not a meeting to discuss trade, otherwise you would have sent a messenger,”
Orynien shifted in his seat slightly, so that was his mood… straight to business then. He leaned forward and put his hands on the table that separated them, “I assume the rumors have circulated through Brina about my recruitment as of late?” the angel king’s eyes narrowed slightly in recognition and he nodded for Orynien to continue, “The Mother has granted me visions as of late, of a battle that will come for Etecia,”
“Word has been growing about your recruitment across all of Galoahar, Oryn. It is no secret that Etecia is growing a formidable army. But many of us are left to question why that is? You have been more secretive than usual,” Mortaza’s leisurely stance did not change, if anything he seemed disinterested in the topic altogether, “So is that what this meeting is about? You called me away from my people to ask for my aide in the battle to come? To sacrifice my people for a battle we know nothing about?”
Orynien scowled at the assumption, “Far from it actually,” he twisted an ornate emerald ring on his finger as he spoke, “I asked you here to inform you I know of your plot, and that we are prepared for you, Mortaza,”
The two angels exchanged a glance and Mortaza met his eye with defiance, “Prepared for me? Pardon my words, but what visions has She offered you Oryn?” The confusion on his face was almost laughable, “We have no ill will towards you or your people. Whatever this is, whoever you have been shown, it is not the work of my people,” Lies… every word of it.
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Orynien’s voice raised with his conviction of what the Mother had shown him, “In every vision I have been granted this past week, I see a flurry of wings and a chorus of my people’s screams. I see an army of your kind! Not the glimmering fangs of Aiyana, or the boats of Aetis. Not the swordsmen of Nydeamar, or the cart riders of Cealian! I see the wings of angels. Your people! Whatever plot you have for us, we are prepared for you,”
Mortaza scoffed and shook his head, “Your visions are clearly clouding your judgment my friend,” the elf king scoffed back at the notion of being friends, “I have no such plan, or reason, to start a battle with my best trade partner. It would destroy the livelihood of so many of my people, and leave them in a state that would be unrecoverable! The Mother is never clear in her visions, you know this as well as any elf who shares your gift. Please reconsider this meeting, and let us return to the ballroom to accompany your guests,”
Just something a man plotting my destruction would say. “Your Highness,” Demetani’s voice cut the air like one of her blades, a calmness in the tense room, “Perhaps we should not come to conclusions so hastily. It is clear that Mortaza, and his guard, know nothing of what you saw. Perhaps it was a false vision?”
Orynien turned to his guard, fury in his eyes, “Have you ever heard of a false vision?” he snapped.
She frowned back at him, her brown eyes flickering gold in the torchlight, “Just because we have not heard of it does not mean it cannot be true,”
“Precisely,” Mortaza’s guard said, gesturing his hand with emphasis to Demetani, “We have never heard tales of a false vision, but that does not mean that it cannot happen. Please reconsider your-,”
“Jasper…” came Mortaza’s warning, Orynien noted Mortaza’s hand raised to silence his guard, as he should be. The angel king stood and fixed the creases in his dress shirt, taking a steadying breath before addressing him, “It is clear I cannot change your mind my friend. But I urge you to reconsider your perception of Vohabard’s involvement in this. We only mean to aide you, and that will not change,”
Orynien said nothing, his mind swimming with bitter words. How could he not be cautious of something such as this? His own son would play a part in this, whether he warned Elwe or not. Elwe would enter the battlefield, and may not come out of it in the end. His only heir to take his place. The Soryn bloodline must continue. And if it meant fighting a friend, so be it. He stood from his place and met Mortaza’s hard gaze, “I would advise you and your ilk,” he spat the word, “depart from my kingdom when the festivities have ended, and do not return. If you do, you will be met with arrows. I assure you that,”
Mortaza turned his back, his guard doing the same, and made for the door. But as the breath returned to Orynien’s chest, and his shoulders relaxed, the angel king said coldly over his shoulder, “Saving face in front of your people? So be it,” he fixed some creases in his sleeves, “Good luck, Oryn,”
Orynien sat there with Demetani standing firmly at his side awaiting instruction, letting his head fall into his hands, had he just imagined the darkness in Mortaza's eyes as he left the room? Was it all a trick from his sleep deprived state? He truly did not know, as he ordered Demetani, “You may join the others, keep an eye on things for me at the ball. I am going for a walk,”
“As you wish,” Demetani exited the room, handing the king off to a guard waiting at the door, and went to oversee the party