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Unknown Location
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Tap, tap, tap.
Impatiently, she tapped her foot on the floor while she sat in one of her luxurious armchairs. She wore an elegant long red dress, embroidered with wings and feather patterns, and fastened with an intricate sash. The long elongated feet of her people were neatly hidden beneath the cloth, clad in sturdy leather boots. All were made by the best Yrus tailors available, as was appropriate. Only the Yrus could make something this beautiful after all. Her hair was neatly cropped up and fastened with a light feather pen.
She sat cloaked in gloom, with only a handful of candles to coat the spacious room’s walls with a dancing palate of shadows and flickering lights. The candles helped her think, helped her mind drift and wander, and explore the ideas she created during the day to their fullest potential. The room she was in was quite luxurious, with paintings, their canvas hidden by the darkness, lining the walls. A small bottle of wine sat upon a tall narrow cabinet beside her chair, upon which rested a finely crafted crystal glass, figures of graceful lovely Yrus and hateful Pyrn carved into the base.
She momentarily stopped tapping her foot to pour herself a glass of wine and looked at the glass. The amount of detail was exquisite. The feathered wings of the Yrus and the bat-like wings of the Pyrn were almost lifelike as if they could start moving at any moment. Even the feathers on the cheeks and hands of the Yrus and even the scales on the ankles and wrists of the Pyrn were visible. All figures, both Pyrn and Yrus, were carved into it in relaxed poses, their faces serene, their hands entwined. She liked to use this glass not because she liked the carvings but to remind her of the façade the Pyrn were upholding. It reminded her of her passion, her duty.
Waiting was one of the things she hated the most, not being able to do the job herself. She found it to be an atrocious, filthy feeling. Her hatred let her blood boil, making her anxious up to the point that she wanted nothing more than rush out herself. But she had to be patient, for her own sake. For the sake of her people, her beautiful people. She shifted in her seat, making sure the feathers on her wings didn’t get too ruffled. Her fingers stroked her feathers, her thoughts immersed in the memories of days long past.
As she sank back into her world of thoughts, somebody knocked at the door, dragging her violently back into the present. Her cold voice called out to the visitor, her voice punctuated with authority, and a significant amount of pride.
“Come in.”
For a moment, nothing happened, as if the visitor was doubting his decision to knock on her door. But then, without a sound, the door swung open and a cloaked figure rushed in. The lights in the corridor outside revealed his speckled brown and white feathered wings for just a split second, but that was enough for her to confirm his identity. Without saying a word, he walked to her and kneeled before her. Her voice echoed through the mostly empty room.
“Did you find it?” She asked her visitor.
Although the visitor’s voice was steady, she could hear a soft hint of fear in his voice, a slight quiver just under the surface.
“I regret to tell you that we were unable to retrieve the artefact, my lady. She had too much of a head start. It’s not all bad news I bear, however. Your mages managed to determine the location the perpetrator was sent to. It did take us some rough convincing of the parents though, which I must admit I’m still no-.”
“They... are... Pyrn. They deserve to be treated roughly by nature, the filthy creatures they are. There is no cause for you to feel guilty about roughing up those diseased bats.”
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“Y-y-yes, my lady, of course.”
“Now, tell me. Where did the little wench flee to?”
“The…the Grasping Isle, my lady. They weren’t able to get a more accurate reading.”
Standing up from her seat, her lips curled up ever so slightly. She started pacing through the room, in thought over this new piece of information.
“Splendid. Contact our anima mages. Let them contact our people on the Isle. Pay off a couple of decent hirelings and capture her. I want her brought back alive, a shining example of the debauchery of the Pyrn. Of course, it wouldn’t matter if she is missing a limb or two, as she will be publicly humiliated when she relinquishes the medallion.”
The visitor sputtered in protest, seemingly having found a sliver of courage.
“But my lady, surely that isn’t necessary. Of course, she requires dealing with, but surely not in such a drastic manner.”
With a sudden rush of steps, she closed the distance between them, wings spread out. A few feathers slowly drifted to the ground beside her. She stared him down with cold eyes, her body language speaking volumes of her disdain for his attitude.
“And who are you to voice your displeasure for my commands? Don’t you remember the oaths you swore to me? The promises you made?”
She traced his face with the tip of a finger. His body shivered at her touch.
“Your only purpose is to serve as my puppet, my plaything. For the good of our people. You should be honoured to play such an important part in what is surely a turning point in the history of the Yrus. If your soul isn’t enough to convince you, maybe I should take a look into the soul of your daughter. I am sure it is quite magnificent.”
She could see her visitor swallow harshly and his veins pop up, trying his best to keep his anger and fear under control.
“…..I will do as you command, my lady. My soul will be in your service, and the service of the Yrus people.”
“I know. I just wanted to remind you of your true calling.”
She walked towards the cabinet and opened the topmost drawer. She took a neatly rolled page of parchment out of it, being kept rolled up by a crimson string of fine silk. Multiple rows of small runes, drawn up in a glimmering purple ink, lined the edges of the document on both sides.
“So, are we clear?”
After a few seconds of tense silence, the answer came.
“Crystal.”
“Good to hear. You’re dismissed. Oh, and take the rest of the day off. Go see your daughter. I am sure she wants to hear what you’ve been up to today.”
She could hear the visitor standing up from his kneeling position.
“Yes, my lady. Thank you.” His voice quivered with rage.
“You’re welcome. I am a generous woman, after all.”
As he made his way to the door, she undid the string and unrolled the parchment. She looked at it with tears in her eyes. What she was about to do hurt her to her very core. But this man was too far gone, his mind too poisoned by the whispers of the Pyrn. She took the parchment in two hands and ripped it apart. The effect was violent. The man, just reaching for the door, was hit by a stream of sparks, which leapt from the pieces of parchment. With a twisted scream of anguish, he grabbed his heart and crashed to the ground. His eyes, mouth, and nasal cavities started to glow, the purple light getting brighter and brighter as raw magic coursed through his body, violently ripping his soul from his flesh. And then suddenly, with one final scream, the light ceased and the man lay on the floor, silent and unmoving. His vitals had given out, his soul released to the world and life had left him.
Whistling a merry tune as if this was the most normal thing in the world, Siandra summoned forth her magic with a certain grace that she held herself with. Sending balls of frost and fire of increasing magnitude at the man’s lifeless body, it didn’t take long for there to be anything left but a small pile of ash.
She was glad she didn’t have any tapestries or carpets laying at the door. Wouldn’t want any of those precious items to be dirtied or singed, after all. A few seconds later, she heard footsteps rushing to her room and a few seconds later the doors flew open, and a pair of her guards entered the room with weapons drawn. Upon seeing the body, they sheathed their blades. She just stood there, her back still to the door.
“My lady, are you unharmed?”, asked one of them.
“Yes, I’m not hurt. Please be so kind as to dispose of the mess. And spread the word that he was murdered by Pyrn infiltrants for good measure. When you’re done, order our anima mages to contact our allies on the Grasping Isle. The Pyrn thug has fled there and I want her caught or killed at once. And while you’re at it, I require all the books on something called the ‘Dawn of Life’ from the library delivered to me within the hour. Is that understood?”
Judging from the sudden clanking of armour and the sound of metal on metal, the guards made a salute. “Of course, ma’am. Anything else?”
A maniacal grin formed on her face for a moment before she retook herself. Had to keep up her disciplined appearance.
“Bring this traitor’s wife and daughter here, I have plans for them.”
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