>
> Phon-Iv worked the large gold ring on his finger, the garnet on it catching the light of their tent and sparkling far above its worth.
>
> “We’ll be out of the desert soon,” he assured her reading the list of the orders they wanted to place on Jelin. Being in Rida offered them the rare opportunity to peruse the distant markets for prospects not available in the Peninsula. “I swear the Khan’s pride is going to ruin a ton of very good deals if this doesn't stop soon.”
>
> He sighed and rapped his fingers on the table, her silence always unerving him. “Where is that darn slave?”
>
> “You sent him to sleep,” she reminded him, after she finished checking on her long cloak.
>
> “I did,” her brother agreed looking at her. “I was thinking, we could look to Jelin for more than a business deal.”
>
> “Uhm.”
>
> “You agree?”
>
> “I’ll wait for the rest of it before giving you my answer.”
>
> “Our father spoiled you.”
>
> “You’d have had him beat me more?”
>
> “Not what I meant damn it!”
>
> “Who do you have in mind?”
>
> “Regia has its heir unmarried.”
>
> “Widowed.”
>
> “True.”
>
> “They’ll never marry a Cofol, too bigoted.”
>
> “Lesia—”
>
> “Even more.”
>
> “You really need to find someone of worth. The Khan might look to approach us again. I can’t smile to his people with all the vomit in my mouth.”
>
> “I won’t bed a horselord ever, how’s that for an answer?”
>
> “You might not have a choice. I could,” Phon-Iv started but she stopped him.
>
> “That’s Don-Iv talking. I won’t bed a brother also. It gives nothing to the family and even less to me.”
>
> “I heard they might look to find someone for Prince Atpa. He’s too busy fucking his slaves and looking for fighters to marry.”
>
> “At least I’ll see a lot of the arena then. Lucky me,” she replied mockingly and got up to wear her cloak.
>
> “What are you doing?”
>
> “You’re not going to work on the list,” Sen-Iv said. “You’ll call that bigfoot to suck your cock in about ten minutes.”
>
> “She doesn’t have that big a feet,” Phon protested and then sighed. “Iskay has matured nicely. You think she’s asleep yet?”
>
> “You’ll sleep with my slave?”
>
> “We’re on the road. I’ve a limited pool to draw from. Is she any good?”
>
> “Inexperienced,” she replied and closed the cloak.
>
> “Again. What are you doing?”
>
> “I’m going out,” Sen said. “To look at the sky.”
>
> “What in allgods is there to look at?”
>
> She shrugged her shoulders. “What did you think of the adventurers?”
>
> “They are not adventurers.”
>
> “Are you sure?”
>
> “They are not equipped for it.”
>
> “Brigands?”
>
> “Lorian brigands on Eplas?”
>
> “We’re near Raoz,” Sen pointed. “Plenty of Lorians there. Fugitives?”
>
> “Alright what is this about?” Phon asked curious. “You can’t go out. They might see you!”
>
> “Why does it matter?” She asked him. “Whether I find someone with means, or power?”
>
> “You know why.”
>
> “I have the means no husband will ever have and power is a fleeting thing.”
>
> “Not always.”
>
> “What are you planning brother?” Sen asked looking at his painted face.
>
> “We used to have trade routes to Kadrek at some point. I was looking at the old ledgers. Ancient more like.”
>
> “And Goras, Eikenport. You long for the Imperial years?”
>
> “I wish out of the Horselord’s yoke. Don’t you feel insulted for passing you over for that unknown cunt?”
>
> “She must know to use it well to lure Prince Sahand out of his stables,” Sen commented. “Unless the rumors are true.”
>
> Phon-Iv got up frustrated. “I wanted to cut him down. Idiot horse-faced uncouth bastard!”
>
> “Phon you are no general. How are you going to fight the Khan?”
>
> “Others might join. This war is an opportunity.”
>
> “You just said it’s bad for business,” she reminded him calmly.
>
> “Which is why it’s an opportunity. Nobody is happy.”
>
> “Uhm,” she murmured and walked to the entrance of the large caravan tent.
>
> “Sen-Iv,” Phon warned her. “You’re not going out.”
>
> “Rogues,” she told him. “I think they are rogues with something extra. A layer I can’t figure out and it’s eating me. You know I’m good at reading people. All mysteries intrigue me. I never feared venturing forth and I shan’t fear the darkness.”
>
> “What are you talking about?”
>
> “I can stay here, but I’ll never know. I want to know what it means.”
>
> “Sen-Iv!”
>
> “I’ve never met a rogue before,” Sen replied truthfully. “Of all the talk we just had about prospects, my mind is still on him.”
>
> “Him?” Phon-Iv croaked his eyes ogling. “Seriously?”
>
> “Don’t sent the guards,” she warned with a stern stare. “I’ll be fine.”
----------------------------------------
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Sen-Iv
A throne over the clouds
Part II
-Sweet rogue o’ mine-
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Ten more minutes, she thought pushing herself even more. You can do it.
One finger of liquor in your glass
Two strikes for the naughty lass
Three pieces of cloth to show class
Sen reached for the toes with the tips of her fingers. Touched them, found a hold and pulled until she felt her left calf protesting as much as her stretched back. Iskay who was sitting on her right leg to keep her touching the ground got up and walked around Sen to sit on the other.
“The mistress will dance?” she asked gathering the front folds of her panel skirt to sit down.
“The mistress wants the master in her bed again,” Sen explained taking a deep breath, before reaching for the other toes bending over her stretched leg.
“He always comes. Fear keeps him away lately,” Iskay commented.
She didn’t want to go there.
“Today it's fear, tomorrow a lither long-eared wench might catch his eye,” Sen murmured.
“He wouldn’t do it.”
“His cock would.”
Iskay got up and stooped to wipe her forehead. “Enough mistress. When you’re hurting you speak nonsense.”
“Bring me my stick,” Sen told her sternly and breathed out. “That’s ten on the buttocks.”
“Can I get them after the festivities?” Iskay asked. “I want to wear a shorter skirt.”
“I can’t wear one, so you won’t,” Sen replied and groaned trying to get up from her splits.
“You’re alright?”
“I need to get to the kitchen,” Sen told her and kneaded at her sore thighs.
“I’ll do it. You have to meet with Kamat-Fin.”
“Mmm. Did we pay him?”
“Bohor did before leaving. The sum was in the expenses list,” Iskay explained and helped her out of her sweaty tunic. Uhm. Sen walked naked to the bathtub and stepped inside. She lowered herself in the cool scented water that touched her chin. “Rama took over after him.”
“I knew his father. A grabby old man,” Sen commented. “You’re getting the stick after the festivities.”
“Thank you mistress.”
“You’ve taken a lot of liberties lately Iskay,” she told her. “I need you focused on your tasks.”
“I’m focused.”
“I’ll find someone to bed you. You’re well of age.”
“I could come to you.”
“You’ll respect the customs of the house you sleep in,” Sen cautioned her. “Not my brother’s, or the Zilan. You live in Morn Taras, only the Monarch’s will matters.”
“The Gish gets to do whatever she wants.”
“The Gish is not my slave and she is Glen’s friend. Aim lower Iskay and watch your tongue.”
“Inis-Mir’s outfit is ready,” Iskay dodged.
Not until I see it for myself.
Sen stared at her and then at the sun out of her window. “I haven’t slept at all, but I don’t feel tired.”
“Where did you go?”
“Over the reefs,” Sen murmured remembering the stunning view and the feeling in her stomach. The wind blowing her hair back and Glen’s hand between her legs. The latter made her shiver.
“Was it scary? Anything left?”
“Most of it is still there and one could travel through it,” Sen murmured with a small grimace at a jolt of pain from her ribcage. “Phon should send a ship to Rain-Minas. Roran is almost, if not there already.”
“Kamat-Fin would know more.”
“Is he here?”
“Aye mistress.”
“Send him in.”
“Sir Delmuth won’t allow it.”
“Tell Sir Delmuth the Lady Sovereign would either be happier with his decision or very unhappy during the festivities.”
“I’ll see that Maeriel expects you after. Will you get out?”
“I shall. Bring me that cream and gold short robe.”
“That’s a lot of leg showing.”
“The less I have to pay him,” Sen replied and pushed herself out of the tub with a sigh. “I want Rama to get Lon to change a shipment. No more black tiles. I have a load of cut white stone waiting in Eikenport. I ordered it in Aegium via Scaldingport.”
“Voron would be unhappy. Granite builds faster and higher,” Glen and the Zilan’s favorite mantra. “It’s also cheaper.”
The latter mostly Glen. She smiled at that.
A man who is careful with coin will never run out.
“So is gravel stone. Earth is cheaper still. Anyway, the Citadel is high enough and I won’t have Inis-Mir grow up in the Zilan version of a Mausoleum. He’ll dress the second floor with cream colored tiles and fine layers of gold sheets. He can carve whatever Eilven comes up with on them, but for hunting scenes or anything gory. I want more light, silver and yellow glitter on the walls. I have four architects that can do it, if it’s out of his league.”
“I like gold,” Iskay agreed. She’d almost a kilo worth of it on her constantly. She twirled around showing a lot of hip to spite her and cat-walked towards Inis-Mir’s room.
“Maeriel might get ideas,” Sen warned her.
“I wish,” Iskay replied. “But her eyes only see pink mistress. I only have a bit of that between my thighs and no skirt is that short.”
Iskay has grown up, Sen thought looking herself in the mirror. I may need to find a younger slave to help with Inis-Mir. Her mind is elsewhere.
She pressed a finger on the black spot forming near her ribs with her fingers and winced.
There you are again.
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She was messing up her letters, the quill not moving with the usual flow Sen had been accustomed to. She returned it in the silver ink pot and got up. Walked to her writing desk’s mirror and checked on her reflection again. Sen used an ivory goat hair brush to put some more rouse on the high cheekbones, her skin paler as it was missing the sun. Less gold and more white in it. She used a fine liner next to retouch her carefully plucked eyebrows and changed earrings to match her robes.
Placed her fingers on the Capricorn pendant she wore on her neck with Glen’s gold ring on it. She relaxed her face and turned to watch Kamat-Fin enter her quarters. Sir Delmuth right behind him.
“Keep the door open,” Sen told the masked Rokae and he nodded after eyeing the Taras official hard for a long moment.
“I’ll be a step away,” Sir Delmuth said raspingly.
“And we appreciate you for it,” Sen told him sweetly.
“Lady Sovereign,” Kamat-Fin said with a traditional Cofol deep bow, an arm behind his back. “I thank you for the honor.”
“How is the hand master Kamat?”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“I’ve lost three fingers on it mistress,” the Master of Birds replied.
“You got three kilos of gold in the trade,” Sen said shaking her head. She moved her left leg over the right, the calf resting at the knee.
Kamat pursed his mouth keeping those Cofol eyes on her face.
Hmm.
“You wish for more?” She asked him.
“No I don’t, mistress.”
“Is the matter settled?”
“It is.”
“Your man talked Kamat,” Sen explained to him. “You know why?”
“You’re Lady Sovereign. The mistress of the Sopat House.”
Everyone talks to you was his meaning.
“A sufficient punishment was meted out and generous compensation offered,” Sen continued. “No further action is to be taken against her. Your man understood that. Do you?”
“Of course Lady Sovereign.”
“Are my legs not to your liking?”
Kamat gulped down and started sweating.
“I haven’t… they are—”
“Don’t doom yourself Kamat,” Sen warned him and uncrossed her legs to toss the robe over them. “There is no good answer here, but displeasing me is the worst. There is the window, just walk out of it. It’ll be less painful.”
“Aye mistress Sopat.”
That’s settled then.
“You have word of my brother?” Sen asked changing her tone and moving on to the next subject.
“The gladiators won near Rihtur and are moving towards Que Ki-La.”
“What about our forces?”
“Lord Phon-Iv is negotiating with Esugen.”
Sen got up slowly. She picked up her finished letter and walked towards him deliberately. Sir Delmuth appeared at the open door keeping an eye on them. She stopped in front of the sweaty official and stared up into his poorly painted face. The man was much taller than her.
“Esugen is Erul-Sol’s creature,” Sen said in a measured voice. “He’s stalling him waiting for reinforcements or the Princes’ moving. If he’s willing to talk, then that’s what Phon mustn’t do.”
“All the Princes of Rin An-Pur are far away mistress.”
“Nout is in Yi Xi-Yan. I bet he’s already moving. I never place bets. It’s a waste of coin. I’m willing to do it in this case.”
“The Prince is very ill.”
“A sick person can still move,” Sen cautioned him. “Function and act out of sheer will. Prince Nout never met a conflict he didn’t enjoy and he’ll sink his teeth in this one as well, even if it’s the last thing he does. Don’t give him time. The leopard moves fast on open terrain. You will send this letter to my brother. Use three birds to make sure it gets to him. He’s to attack Esugen immediately with everything he has. Forget about the trade routes. I’ll handle those, or Lon. Open the road so he can assist the gladiators. The time to be a merchant has gone. Now he needs to be a warrior just like he always wanted. Warriors don’t look for deals.”
“I shall relay your wishes mistress. With your graces,” Kamat-Fin bowed deeply and Sen-Iv nodded once that he could leave her presence.
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Inis-Mir put the crayon down and turned to look at her.
“Wipe your face little lady,” Sen told her. “You’re coming with me.”
Maeriel shifted on her feet nervously.
“You can stay, or take the day off ranger,” Sen said turning to the tall Zilan female.
“Arguen Garth has tasked me to follow her when she leaves her quarters,” Maeriel replied. “I shall do that.”
“She’ll visit her mother, I’ll handle my husband,” Sen told her evenly.
“I can’t disobey the Monarch.”
“You’ll obey his wife.”
“Maeriel is pissed,” Inis-Mir chuckled and Sen stooped over her.
“Show me that hand Inis-Mir,” she told her daughter.
“I didn’t say anything bad!” the girl protested.
“Iskay take her to my quarters,” Sen ordered.
“Lady Sovereign,” Maeriel said clenching her jaw.
“I wish to talk to her alone,” Sen replied. “You will respect it or you have no heart and shouldn’t be anywhere near her.”
She turned to leave but paused and turned to look at the frustrated Zilan. “You can protect her and have a life away from your duties,” she told the ranger. “Inis-Mir shall always have people to care for her, but Maeriel might not. You must learn to do both, or you’ll only live half a life ‘Spirit of the Forest’, however long that life may be.”
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Sen-Iv stopped brushing the princess’ hair and stared in her daughter’s face on the mirror.
“I like the color,” she told her fighting back tears.
“I like your jewelry.”
“They are too big for you.”
“Are there any smaller? Am I cursed to never wear them?”
Sen kissed the back of her head. “What have we said about lashing out?”
“I don’t like your rules,” Inis-Mir retorted. “Father has much less than you.”
“Your father leaves the rules part to me,” Sen explained. “He’s not a girl so he avoids difficult discussions.”
“Hmm.”
“We don’t do that in front of strangers.”
“Fine.”
“What else we don’t do?” Sen asked her casually, resuming the brushing of her luscious hair. Such a strong crimson with some black in it, she thought marveling at the change. All it did was change the color. I should have used it on me, but perhaps I can still can.
“We don’t get angry.”
“Why?”
“It’s a weakness that offers little return.”
“What else?”
“We don’t show sadness to strangers and we keep our thoughts to ourselves.”
“Unless we are with our special someone,” Sen continued. “Then we let him know, unless it makes him uncomfortable. We don’t do that to those we love.”
“You said love is as rare as gold.”
“Which is why we don’t do that.”
“Wyverns are rarer.”
“Forget about them. You are too young for that also. Remember we don’t buy love, or go out searching for it. Be suspicious of those professing it freely. Look for honesty instead or a mutually beneficial deal. If love is to find you, it will. You can’t force it.”
“I’ll never remember any of this by tomorrow,” Inis-Mir said looking at her through the mirror.
“Um, I think you will little lady. Why though?” Sen asked in a teasing manner.
“I love you mum,” Inis-Mir told her.
“I love you more,” Sen replied and kissed her head again. “But I don’t want to hear this kind of language from you.”
“You curse sometimes with dad.”
“That’s not cursing Inis-Mir,” Sen explained. “It may sound like it, but it is not.”
“Jinx says she can tell when dad has rolled in the hay with you by his step.”
“Jinx should learn we don’t talk about everything with four year olds,” Sen murmured and stood up to look at her.
“I think she killed herself.”
“Why?”
“She jumped out of a window with a short rope,” Inis-Mir explained. “I saw her dropping down screaming. It was very funny!”
“She survived it,” Sen said and pressed a finger on her forehead, right above the bridge of her nose.
“You alright mum?”
“Just a little tired probably. I haven’t slept last night. Your father kept me well awake.”
“How was it?”
“How was what?” Sen asked narrowing her eyes.
“Flying?”
“If I had to describe it with a word. I’d have to say useful,” Sen replied with a smile and took her to the dresser to pick a new outfit.
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“There’s father,” Inis-Mir said in her formal voice, quickly slipping out of character. “When we get to sit on the throne?”
“When they announce us,” Sen explained again. “Keep your chin up. You are a princess of Wetull, a King’s daughter and a scion of the house Sopat. No one will ever rule over you. We walk unhurriedly and standing upright,” Iskay turned an elaborate red head to look at her. “Unless we have a reason not to. Then… we don’t.”
“What reason?”
“Here’s dad,” Sen dodged. “Smile Inis-Mir, he needs encouragement. It’s our first task this. Never forget it.”
“Ladies,” Glen rustled, clad in a leather outfit. A silk red shirt underneath his black doublet, a polished intricate half plate over it. “Why do I get winter clothing and you get the fancy lacy stuff?”
Sen approached him glancing at the backs of the Rokae parked in front of them, blocking the crowd from seeing the royals. She fixed the coral of his shirt and pushed his unruly hair back, Glen’s arms around her waist.
“Let’s ditch these fools and go back upstairs,” he told her hoarsely sending butterflies down her loins.
“A rogue would do that,” Sen whispered in his ear. “Without a second thought.”
Glen pulled back unsure. “I can’t tell if you are serious sweetheart, but I’m willing to risk it.”
“We can make it to the end of the evening,” she told him with a smile.
Inis-Mir came to hug them both and Iskay stooped to pick her up.
“We don’t have the right number of chairs,” Kilynia squeaked rushing near them. “Monarch, Lady Sovereign. Someone needs to stand along the strays.”
Glen frowned and puffed his cheeks out which was so adorable it should have been outlawed.
“Well… you are ambushing me here Kilynia,” he grunted. “It’s not a good look.”
“Let the adventurers stand with them,” Sen intervened keeping her voice casual. There was a numbness spreading on her sides. “They have many friends with them.”
“You heard her,” Glen said and kissed her hand. “Problem solved. Someone tell Kirk to stop drinking, we may need him upright as well.”
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“Esteemed officials of Taras and Sinya Goras. From Abarat and Lo-Minas. Dignitaries from Greenwhale Peninsula, Eikenport and the city of Scaldingport. Visitors from Brightos the distant Glorfalc, form Kaltha, Regia and Lesia. Friends from Lord’s Burrow. Lords and Ladies of Wetull, Members of the King’s Council, Members of the Council of Twenty you are welcomed to Morn Taras,” Rimeros paused his pompous address in strict Imperial almost half the audience didn’t understand and eyed the colorful crowd.
Zilan and humans in it. A group of dwarfs sitting with the frowned Lord Shield. The smiling broadly giant Soren, several Gish, an inebriated Jinx amongst them and a Ticu pretending to be a normal girl holding her hand. Young Phinariel dressed in a scandalous outfit made out of intricate blue and white lace, which was what most upper class Zilan females had preferred, impressing Sen since she put a lot of the upper caste ladies to shame.
“The Impervious prophesied Hardir O’ Fardor,” Rimeros started raising his voice to silence the murmurs of the crowd. “An Aniculo Rokae returned, the Lord of Morn Taras and Sinya Goras, Protector of Abarat and Lo-Minas. Keeper of Nesande’s Temple, Warden of the Temple of Eodrass, the King beyond the Pale Mountains, from Merodras River to Gish Lament, from Goras to Rain-Minas and from Nesande’s Garden to the port of Baltoris and the city of Elauthin. The Monarch of Wetull, Palan-Hinnen Arguen Garth, O’ Nielek Aniculo!”
“My Glen,” Sen whispered -tears in her eyes she fought to hold back- to a grimacing Glen at the crowd’s rowdy response that tested the excellent acoustics of a proud Voron to the limit. A distracted Eilven appeared briefly next to him as he rounded a massive black column, chisel in hand, looking for imperfections. “They cheer for you Glen.”
“Sir Delmuth,” Glen said loudly to the leading Rokae. “Move aside so I can tell them to shut the fuck up afore they blew my eardrums off!”
“Oi, you hear that?” Inir-Mir gasped at his words and Sen pushed him gently through the tall Knights. Rimeros trying to quiet down the crowd but failing.
“Maeriel you keep them safe now,” a concerned Glen said and started walking from the internal stairs towards the three thrones.
> The Monarch’s Celebration affected all of Taras. The visitors and guests stayed in the lake town as it was much easier to make the journey to Morn Taras from there. Some stayed in the Castle itself. Like Lord Onas who had come from Abarat, Kilynia and Rimeros the two advisors from Lo-Minas, Berthas of Aelinole Lord Suraer’s kin, the Rokae of Sir Delmuth, Lady Aenymriel the palace’s surveyor, Lady Soletha, Soren, Lady Jinx and Vulreon the First Scribe. Some stayed in the Phalanx’s barracks like Lord Anfalon and Lymsiel. Most found lodgings in the two hostels and the many taverns popping out around the lake’s shores, or to villas if they owed one like Lord Shield and his guests, or had the gold to rent some of the renovated buildings Lord Voron’s crews worked on when they stopped repairs on Morn Taras that month.
>
> Some like Lord Folen owed a tavern themselves, or a ‘Pleasure House’ that according to him was a hostel in a sense its guests never left ‘unsatisfied’. Master Vycaris and his companion Oelinael got busy creating outfits for the citizens that could afford them, or those like this humble scribe that had found a sponsor for theirs. Many merchants had started buying property in the outrageously expensive Taras, but mainly in Sinya Goras the port facing Jelin, or even Hardir’s Port that faced the Navel and beyond it Vermilion Peak and the sea route to Eodrass’ Temple.
>
> Each prominent guest brought a gift to Arguen Garth, who stayed unimpressed for most of them and spoken a few, or many words of praise for the simply dressed Monarch. The Crown of Horns seemed to weigh heavy on his head all night, but while the Monarch’s ancient crown was impressive to see again for the Elderbloods, the one Lady Sovereign wore for the occasion stunned those that had the fortune to witness it up close.
>
> Created by Angrein O’ Mecatan especially for Lady Sen-Iv, it was a stunning gold and white-gold diadem build around two of the largest and most striking opals ever unearthed in Lai Zel-Ka. The identical but for their size Aurora Opals precious gems that resembled the Lady Sovereign’s famed eyes distinctive color patterns, were centered one atop the other at the front of the diadem and sparkled at the lights of the packed hall creating a rainbow halo over her face.
>
> It was the only time the elusive Crown of Gems, or ‘Aurora Crown’ was ever worn by anyone in public and it was never seen again after that night.
>
>
Inis-Mir giggled jumping on her throne excited despite the efforts from a clad in her cleaned and polished Imperial Ranger outfit Maeriel and the radiating Istay to control her. Glen had just finished reminiscing the first time he met Alan Kirk in his first posting back in Rida and while it was obvious the soon to be a Knight loyal man remembered it differently, he had the presence of mind to go along with the enthusiastic Monarch.
He had a few drinks too many, she thought smiling at Lord Onas’ comment suggesting they hurl the sharply dressed Alan Kirk out of the door, or get this over with, so he could dance with her.
“My wife dances only with me Lord Onas,” Glen retorted, never losing a back and forth as long as she remembered him. “It’s how it goes in this venue. You wish for a wife to dance wit you, then get yourself one mate. You’re getting quite long in the tooth.”
The silence that followed his words broken when the one eyed Lord Onas tipped his head back in a roaring laughter that sparked a similar outbreak for the rest of the crowd. Even the stressed out Lady Kilynia chuckled at that and Glen having gotten the difficult part out of the way whispered quickly to Alan Kirk while the crowd was distracted.
“Damnit kneel Kirk. Just drop to yer knees man. I’m starting to forget the wording with all the brouhaha. You wish to be ordained to a specific God?” He asked this time loud enough for the bystanders to notice, their pre-arranged and rehearsed back and forth starting. Glen had a touch of the theatrical in him.
“Milord, I wish to serve the Aniculo family and the Black Throne.”
“Now, are you sure my good man? It might be quicker for me,” Glen said standing over him with his sword in hand. “But you need to know this is a difficult task you’re taking on.”
“I’m fully aware milord and I insist.”
“You know a sworn sword to a Royal Household, is a Knight that doesn’t get to fool around with the ladies eh?”
“Ehm, I’m married milord,” Kirk lied as they had agreed aforehand in order to circumvent the rule. Glen’s only order to Alan Kirk had been not to fool around with his wife and daughter else he’d have the Wyvern eat him.
Sir Delmuth turned his masked head towards the throne unsure about the wording and Glen shrugged his shoulders. He had to fix the crown on his head afterwards.
“Can’t have the man up and divorce her,” he argued tactfully and the crowd went along with his explanation as it seemed reasonable. “What about the kids right?”
“What?” Jinx blurted out from her corner, Phinariel looking at Glen with pleading eyes to not break up the man’s family. Glen eyed the Gish warningly, pausing unsure at the sight of the staring back at him unblinking Assara and then continued.
“Very well then. With that out of the way,” Glen said formally raising his sword and placing the flat of it on Kirk’s right shoulder. “In the name of Eodrass the Wyvern God depicted on this crown I trust you to be brave. In the name of Nesande and her moon that ever shines its light upon this throne I trust you to be loyal to its tenant. In the name of Vile Abrakas that never forgets, I trust you to keep your vows, protect this Realm and the citizens of Wetull. My words were heard in this hall and witnessed. The King witnessed it, the Lady Sovereign witnessed it, the Lords and Ladies of Morn Taras witnessed it. All Gods old and new witnessed it. Arise Sir Alan Kirk of Taras, a sacred Knight of Wetull.”
Sir Delmuth marched forth, a polished white-silver Rokae mask in his arms, as a solemn faced Kirk stood up and Glen stepped back for him to receive his ceremonial mask. A Rokae served faithfully forfeiting personal desires at the king’s behest. They all had the same face for that reason.
“Sir Alan Kirk of Taras, is a member of the Sacred Rokae and he’ll serve the King of Wetull along with his brothers,” Sir Delmuth announced to the hall in a commanding voice. “But he’ll need a fresh set of armour which the Throne shall provide,” he added and Glen frowned at first, but then gave a slight nod with his head. The crown needing a refit to stand on his head, but with Angrein busy creating hers the matter had been left for later.
“Now, then… ehm,” Glen continued after the two knights went to the rest of the Rokae and officials that wanted to congratulate Sir Kirk.
“The matter of the adventurers Exulted Monarch,” Metu said with a small voice from his corner. The well-dressed Castellan always apprehensive in front of her. A former slave of her cousin Lon-Iv Sopat that Glen had deemed useful to free. Sen-Iv never fully trusted him and she stared at the nervous Metu for a long moment, until Sam Mathews, Clinton Marlo and the half-breed Jingo stepped forward in their cleaned, but well-used armour and leathers.
Sam Mathews nodded at her and she returned it, her eyes going to the rough-looking Marlo next and then at the blank-faced always parsimonious Jingo. They had all served Glen for years undertaking missions and even fighting for him. Sen respected that in professionals. If you get paid then you should do a good job. It was also a matter of pride for them surely and manners.
“I know Sam Mathews for quite some time now,” Glen was saying. He had climbed down the stairs for this part of the festivities. “The mark of a good adventurer is taking on a task and coming back on his two feet. Aye, no good can come from dying on a lucrative job, covered in gold and spider webs.”
“Hopefully it’ll be more gold and less spiders’ going forward milord,” Marlo commented, paused at Glen’s raised brow and added just to get it out of his chest. “And digging graves. I don’t have the fingers for it.”
“I count nine fingers, mister Marlo,” Glen retorted. “So there are plenty of fingers left. But if you’re so inclined, I still have a couple of gold ones left in my satchel.”
Sam laughed, Marlo scratched his face with the hand missing the finger and Jingo remained uninterested on his feet. Rimeros approached with three gold rings, depicting a likeness of Uvrycres as a baby, to give to the three adventurers. Sen glanced at her daughter, frowned at Inis-Mir’s serious face and gestured for her to smile for the crowd. Then her eyes returned on the three warriors receiving their gifts, along a heavy leather purse of gold coins, what Glen owed them for a couple of years and she had insisted they paid back with interest.
Sam took his and put it on his gloved finger with a warm smile, Marlo bit his first to make sure it was solid gold and Jingo removed a leather cord he had, pulling it out from inside his leather shirt and over his shaven head. A cheap pendant hanging from it and the half-Issir obviously intended to slot the ring there as well. A black cylindrical piece of wood Sen-Iv thought initially, but then her experienced eyes recognized the surface of the wood from where she was sitting.
She had seen a similar trinket again many years back in the port market of Lai Zel-Ka and inside the palace of Rin An-Pur. A talisman from the Plague Isles. A pendant made out of Wyvern’s bone just like Glen’s peculiar dagger.
“Can I see it?” She asked Jingo and Glen turned his head hearing her voice, the hall turning quiet. “Apologies mister Jingo, but I always wanted to buy one, but never got the chance. My King we talked of this.”
“Ah,” Glen grimaced and stared at Jingo. Marlo turned his head around and glared at the undecided adventurer as the moment dragged.
“What’s the matter wit you?” he admonished his friend. “Give it to the Lady Sovereign! Ye get to keep the darn ring fool.”
“It’s mine,” Jingo replied.
“We’ll return it mister Jingo,” Glen assured him not wanting to create a scene. Sen wasn’t going to return it of course. She intended to buy the amulet from the adventurer and have Angrein look at it.
“Blasted gallopin’ Goblins!” Marlo snapped angry and grabbed the cheap-looking pendant from him. “Gimme that thing,” he turned around and tossed it to a readily catching it Glen, the murmurs inside the Hall increasing as everyone was trying to understand what all this was about. “Here ye go, milord King.”
Glen walked back to the stairs and gave the pendant to Iskay, who had rushed down the podium to take it. Iskay brought it to her and Sen-Iv stared into Jingo’s intense black eyes.
“I appreciate your kindness mister Jingo,” she told him unable to read his expression and traced her fingers around the cool glassy bone to examine it. Sen felt the tiny carvings on its surface and dismissed it at first as imperfections, until she realized they were carved in a helical pattern following the seams. She brought it closer to her face to check on the tiny and hidden alien script.
She could barely see it for what it was, but for when the light shaded the surface of the pendant at an angle.
Some of it she recognized. Proto-Imperial cuneiform script. Not all the letters though. Glen turned his back to the thrones podium to talk it out with the adventurers, Jingo still looking her way and Sen’s fingers turning numb slowly.
The pendant slipped away and she had to pick it up from her lap.
How is it so cool? She thought trying to get her hands working again. The well-illuminated for the day hall, as considerable effort had been put to it, started dimming gradually before her very eyes.
Its massive towering black columns that travelled down the long and packed with a restless crowd hall, started disappearing in the coming darkness. The furthest of them first and then one after the other. All of them, until only the final two were left and two thirds of the whole hall had been covered in thick blackness.
Jingo grimaced, his first reaction of the evening, Sen tried to moist her lips with a slow to react tongue and the Crown of Gems rolled down her white satin gown, over the gathered elegantly kept together legs and then dropped on the podium’s lacquered tiles. The Lady Sovereign watched the rolling crown travelling to the edge where the stairs begun mesmerized, all the colors of the rainbow sparkling on it and then going over.
It hit the granite tiles at the bottom of the stairs and despite the crowd’s murmurs and noise, as everyone was animated after a great evening, or the fact he himself was talking with Sam Mathews, Glen somehow heard it. He turned around alarmed and stared immediately at her.
Give me ten more minutes, the Celestial Opal pleaded.
> But you can't bargain with the Gods when you've nothing to offer.
My sweet rogue, a struggling to breathe Sen had said from the gold throne. There’s script written on it...
> So she only got the first part out.
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