Date: Thirtieth of January, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)
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Job spotted the small white and black bird spiraling down towards the royal seating section and guessed by the reaction of the guards that this was Princess Miara arriving. The mildly nauseating crunch of reforming bones heralded her shapeshifting back to her elven form. Job turned to look at the newly-arrived princess, and nodded in satisfaction at her appearance. Princess Miara wasn’t even pretending to be something she was not. She had arrives in view of the nobles unescorted and unarmed by conventional means, her tasseled leather dress leaving no place for a dagger to be hidden. Yet her posture and eyes betrayed no fear, daring anyone to challenge the fact that she walked alone.
The murmurs about impropriety from the gathered conservative Lords were louder now, but Job shrugged them off. The political fallout wouldn’t end up in his lap unless things got physical. And form the princesses appearance, they were both declaring in their own ways that they were stepping out of the political arena. Princess Miara was disqualifying herself by announcing the fact that she had joined a Holy Order, and Enra was looking to cause such scandal that no lord would consider replacing her eldest sister with herself.
Job suppressed a smirk as he listened in on the conversation.
“Enra! It’s wonderful to see you sister mine. I never thought that you would accept the invitation.”
“Snubbing our fair sister would probably have kept me ‘out of the game’ for another decade or so, but my human companions convinced me that making a statement of my exit was probably more productive.”
“Well, you certainly upstaged me somewhat, not that I’m complaining. Considering that a Vahdin Dovah is perched up in the temple tree mediating an arch-druid summit, we’re both upstaged if she decides to put in an appearance.”
“An arch-druid summit? What about?”
“Peace conference would be a better name for it. Strife between the circles. With luck, it’s been nipped in the bud before it can spread.”
“And a Vahdin Dovah is…?”
“Sorry, druidic title, stemming from the old draconic
“We have a Dragon in attendance today?”
“Yes, though she is not in her true form. Given the acid scars on her scales and the single egg in her possession, I can understand why she wants even less attention than you or I.”
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Morlen Daxina was seething as he stared at the newly-arrived princesses. With the wedding not even begun, already Princess Miana had declared her allegiance not to a respectable Holy Order, but to a group of tree-hugging pacifists? Had she not even the decency to let Crown Princess Shahana have her moment in the light? Did she no know that Althiem’s growth depended upon the Army’s ability to protect her interests? Had she forgotten the effort the Army had put into exterminating the vile Sirens in retribution for the kidnappings all those years ago?
He shook his head. This could be turned to his advantage. There were always rumors that Druids preferred the company of animals to that of elves or lesser races. The rumors would already be spreading, and a few well-placed words would spin it into his favor. Morlen grew a sly smile as he imagined the pacifist tree-hugging princess forced into social exile. That would also clear the way for Princess Enra to ‘step up’ and be brought back into the political sphere, where here ‘unladylike’ tendanies would be mitigated by social pressure. With the right words into the right ears, Morlen was sure he could convince his father and the other Lords that Princess Enra needed marrying, needed a proper elven gentleman to settle her down into her place.
The swelling of the organ music quieted the crowd, but morlen kept the corner of his eye on the Princesses and their companions. He was sure that he could convince the humans to do something rash, and the golem could be counted upon to be too slow to react without preemptive commands. A few drinks, perhaps one too many, at the reception party and they would cease to be a problem. With Princess Miana forced by her rank to circulate and make an appearance, Princess Enra would be wide open for Morlen to make his move.
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Job mostly kept his eyes on the intricately ornate ceremony, but he flicked them across the crowd every so often. It wasn’t that he expected a random noble to bed a cut-purse, or the royal guards to fail to stop an assassin, but he could feel that some of the eyes in the gathering watching him. It made Job uneasy, being the center of someone’s attention like that; on the streets it meant someone was planning to do you harm. He could see that Sly felt it too, and her instincts were better than his own.
“Got eyes on him Sly?” Job muttered quietly.
Sly twitched her head, “three, not one. Elf in the orange tunic and pants with the purple sash and over-gilded sword. Two of the three late-arriving druids overhead too, Buzzard and Eagle. Purple Sword is envious, the druids curious.”
Enra nodded subtly in agreement, “orange tunic elf is Morlen Daxina, heir apparent to the Lordship of Bera province. Thinks himself more important than he actually is, Army mad, and a fop. I don’t know the druids.”
Princess Miana flicked one ear at the temple tree’s trunk, “ ‘Buzzard’ is arch-Druid Dornan Brenwal of the Circle of the Spore. ‘Eagle’ is arch-Druid Ena Sumia of the Circle of the Moon. they don’t see eye to eye on all issues of Doctrine, but will play by the rules. Especially with the Vadin Dovah keeping an eye on them.”
Job let his eyes drift over the crowd again, “will any of them attempt something at the reception?”
Enra shook her head ever so slightly, “Morlen perhaps will lay traps of words, but he’s more a fool then I thought to try anything else. I suppose the arch-Druids might start a doctrinal dispute, so try and stay out of that if it breaks out.”
That Afternoon, at the reception...
Baar’miin followed the Eagle and the Buzzard as they spiraled down from the Temple Tree towards the reception. Her mother and sisters were with the Kite, still discussing something, but Baar’miin had a feeling that the two arch-Druids that he was following were rather direct problem solvers. She knew that either of them could probably destroy her without a thought, but she couldn’t just let them break their oaths to keep the peace between themselves on this day. She need not have worried. Both the Eagle and the Buzzard shifted back to their natural forms in time to land and made their way together towards Index.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
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Index Warforge spotted the two arch-Druids making their way through the crowd. They moved with unhurried purpose and carried no overt weapons. Mindful of Enra’s instructions not to get drawn into any doctrinal debates, she resolved to watch her words around those two. They were chatting in a friendly manner, which put Index at ease. Clearly whatever major dispute that had existed between the two of them had been resolved.
“... I still say that your stance on undead is too soft arch-Druid Brenwal. They are a blight upon the natural order of things.”
“And I agree with you in nine hundred and ninety seven cases out of a thousand arch-Druid Sumia. With the Revenant undead, ghost, flesh, and bone alike it can be harder to tell without asking. The ghoul, the vampire, and the litch break the cycle by cheating death. With the oath- or quest-bound, it falls to us Keepers to intervene if needed.”
“Oh? And can you give me examples of each.”
“Yes to all three. Two are settled matters, one is still open. Uhssu the Branded, Revnant zombie, quest-bound to the death of Paladin Ancient Ussi, his own mother. We called her in to help settle the matter once and for all. In the end it needed an unmaking, and the channeling of Merrsshulk, Sslyeth, and Denedar, but Uhssu is no more. Nornan ‘Appleplanter’ Sylro, Revnant ghost. Swore an Oath to plant a grove of apple trees on all four of the Treboran Isles right after the Seminal War ended. When he got out here, there were only three islands. For now, he tends his groves, and we keep an eye on him. Should there ever be a fourth Trebora island again, then he’ll be off to plant that fourth and last grove and then to his final rest.”
“And the third?”
“We’re about to find out. Hello Index Warforged. I wonder what sort of ghost your father is.”
Index’s mouth would have been dry as a bone, if it weren’t made of enchanted wood. “It is not written down anywhere in the Trebor Library stacks, so it is not information that I have access to. You could just ask my father himself. Or Lord Trebor or lady SiDiabolo might know, but you’d have to ask them yourselves.”
Index relaxed as the two arch-Druids rocked back on their heels to reconsider their approach. Mollified that they were not a threat anymore, she decided to throw them a bone of sorts.
“Speaking of Lady SiDiabolo, and of the ‘missing’ fourth Island of Althiem, it still exists on the maps as Sunderstone Shoal. And as for a new fourth island, one should be breaking the wavetops in bout two hundred years or so if her calculations, based on the works of Wegener and Holmes among others, are correct. If the diving equipment existed to dive to the seabed west northwest of Althiem and examine the area, It would be possible to see that it has already started forming in the form of lava leaking from the seabed...”
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Morlen Daxina caught sight of Princess Enra for the first time since the start of the reception and promptly choked on his drink. Not only had she forgone a dress for a pair of men’s pants once again, but she was dressed like a character out of Jareth’s Labyrinth, a bawdy Fire Dance play for commoners. This went beyond unladylike and all the way to downright plebeian! Morlen’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Princess Enra’s ‘companion’ again. At the wedding, he had thought her a courisan or minor lady-in-waiting, someone that a noble might dally with, especially if they wished to conceal their activities from the scrutiny of their peers. But the ‘companion’s’ knee-length sleeveless dress revealed well-muscled arms and legs. No courtesan or lady-in-waiting would ever be that muscled, so perhaps the ‘companion’ was a bodyguard instead?
Morlen flicked the thought aside. It would only make any rumors of Princess Enra’s unladylike behavior all the more scandalous. Avoiding the duty of all nobles to procreate by laying with another of the same sex, while not exactly accepted, was at least not openly frowned upon. But to flaunt it so openly was taboo of a sort. But if Princess Enra was playing on that prejudice to bring along an extra bodyguard…
Morlen re-thought his plans in light of this new information. Princess Enra would still fall to his charm, but he would need to make sure that the bodyguard didn’t interfere. The golem and the human mage escort were pre-occupied by a pair of druids, discussing something or other. Morlen nodded to himself and quaffed the rest of his drink. Best to ignore the companion like the bodyguard that she was and go for it while he had the chance.
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Baar’miin spotted the elf in the orange tunic making a direct path through the crowd towards Enra and moved into action. Index and Job could take care of themselves, Enra and Sly could probably use an extra claw. Baar’miin swished her stubby tail impatiently as she moved, slipping between legs as she skirted around the dance floor where the bride and groom held the crowd’s attention.
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Sly Malon spotted the orange tunic on its not-so-steady course towards Enra.
“I think it’s that Morlen elf, and he looks drunker’n a sailor on payday.”
Enra sighed, “I’ll have to let an idiot down easy again, won’t I. Every public event I go to, some noble-blooded twit makes a pass, hoping for a wedding ring.”
Sly twitched one shoulder in a shrug, “I mean, you’ve got mine Prancer, all you gotta do is ask. Don’t need a fancy dog and pony show like this either if you don’t want one.”
Enra’s blush stretched all the way to the pointed tips of her ears. “Are you proposing to me?”
“Well, we’re already sleeping together, so I think we’re well past girlfriends and into the serious stuff.”
“Mmm, a fair point. Tell you what, Let’s call it ‘fiancees’ for now, give it a month or so while I finish my thesis with your help, and then we make it all the way official?”
“Done. I’ll find a pair of rings to mark the occasion.”
“Don’t go nicker-fingering again!”
“You worry about telling the fop off, I’ll worry about the rings.”
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Morlen Daxina had hardly opened his mouth it introduce himself when Princess Enra wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“I do believe that you are in your cups mr. Daxina.”
“Nonsensse Princess Enra! If I am intoxicated at all, it is by your beauty and that of your chosen courtesan.”
“Mr Daxina, lady Malon is neither my courtesan nor bodyguard. Shame on you for suggesting that I would bring anything less than a significant other on my arm to my good sister’s wedding!”
Morlen’s brow furrowed in utter confusion. Surly Princess Enra wasn’t suggesting…
“Princess, surely you mean to continue the Royal lineage with an elf of noble breeding and not some gutter swi-”
That was as far as he got before Princess Enra kicked him in the shin. Even as Morlen opened his mouth to yelp, his world spun about as a backhanded slap caught him across the ear. Morlen fell to his knees dazed, dizzy, and nauseated. What felt like a scaled tail slapped his stomach and the considerable quantity of alcohol Morlen had drank to fortify his confidence burned its way back up his throat before blackness claimed his thoughts.
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Sly nodded at Baar’miin, thanking her for the assist in disabling the idiotic Mr. Daxina before he said something that would spark an honor-duel. The guardsmen, royal, city and Ironbark Regiment alike, were moving over to maintain order. There wasn’t much rush about it though; just another drunk elf passing out from imbibing too much firewine.
“Next time Prancer, don’t muck about with kicking shins. Every man got dangly bits twixt his legs, and every man gonna curl up and cry when you ram your knee up into them.”
“I’m a little short to be doing that, and it's rather undignified to kick up high in a skirt or dress.”
“Keep wearing pants then, they look good on you.”
“Oh, so you noticed?”
“Prancer, if we weren't in public right now…”
“Then go grab Job and Index, we can get out of here now that we’ve made our required appearance.”