>
> Months of the year
>
> (Imperial Enna) Primus (First month of New Year, 2nd month of winter)
>
> Alter or Secundus (Second month, 3rd of winter)
>
> Tertius later ‘Lucius’ in Regia (Third month, 1st of spring)
>
> Quartus (Fourth month, 2nd of spring) Imperial Canatya or Sulime (in Cydonia)
>
>
> Quintus (Fifth month, 3rd of spring)
>
> Sextus (Sixth month, 1st of summer, Bacchanalia)
>
> Septimus (Seventh month, 2nd of summer)
>
> Octavus (Eight month, 3rd of summer, Valimae Lilt, 2nd Bacchanalia)
>
> Nonus (Ninth month, 1st of Fall)
>
> (Imperial Cainen) Decimus (Tenth month, 2nd of Fall)
>
> Imperial Minqe (Eleventh month, 3rd of Fall)
>
> (Imperial Ringare- last month of year) Ultimus (Twelfth month, 1st of winter)
> *Also common Lorian names
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> The first week of Ringare, first month of winter, the year of the Imperial Calendar 3399, the Monarch of Wetull arrived at Lai Zel-Ka like the Aniculo Rokae of old. On top of ‘majestic’ Uvrycres. The Onyx Wyvern. What a heart-warming scene this must have been for the exulted faithful crowds touched by its shadow!
>
>
>
> Age of the Onyx Wyvern
>
> Naram-Sin Nagar (178-212 NC)
>
> Circa 208
>
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Arguen Garth
Hardir O’ Fardor
Lord of Morn Taras
Monarch of Wetull
King beyond the Pale Mountains
Aniculo Rokae
An Elderblood named Paeris
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First week of Ultimus (Ringare)
Winter of 193 NC
City of Lai Zel-Ka
EEEEERRR?
The amused wyvern’s shriek resounded over the scenes of absolute terror and otherworldly panic unfolding under them. The streets of the spread out beautiful city stirring with people running for cover screaming and pulling their hair out. Escaped horses, mules and camels galloping wild, dragging carts away from the stands, others upturned and all manner of produce spilt on cobblestone. Some people ducking in doorways or under market stands, mothers tossing their babies inside large weaver baskets and a man plunging to his death after he run out of roof in his terror. Others standing frozen with a look of wonder on their crumpled faces, gawking eyes observing the flying beast whistling over their heads.
Uvrycres made a low pass over the straight large avenue separating the artisan and merchant coastal quarters from the fields, the farms and trees sprouting near the west banks of Amethyst Lake. He flew fast at first but slowed down after Glen’s insistence who wanted to see the city from above, zig-zagging with wings extended and arching his route from the lake back near the coast as they reached the city’s center.
The monotonous sound of gongs answering the excited wyvern’s shrieks.
RRRRRRRRREEH
The official buildings there taller with thin tall minarets at each corner, basically bigger versions of the watchtower at Eikenport, internal yards and scalloped arches for entrances. Made out of fine limestone cut in square bricks and marble, they were painted in different striking colors. Blue, green, rich yellow and red. Each house had a different color than the one next to it and the pattern was prominent for all flat-roofed quarters but for the slave homes they had left behind. No Lorian red ceramic roof tiles here or the Issir flagstone shingles but Glen spotted a couple of warehouses using a rough asphalt coating.
The Sopat District with its neighboring gardened estates came right after and Uvrycres picked the biggest one to land. Located near the start of the slightly slopped road heading west towards Threehorn Peninsula’s flat-top hills and the visible polygon-shaped bastion with the intricately ornamented brick walls they colloquially called ‘Sopat Fort’.
It was a bit larger than that and the size of a walled town.
The regular dodecagon shaped castle had a slender stone minaret -fully engraved with intricate geometric shapes or flowers- at each side behind its walls and the latter created a strange uneven circle around its four core central buildings, which in turn were surrounded by small gardens each with bulbous domed atriums built inside. The ‘palace of twelve spires’ as it was also called had each minaret christened after a prominent member of the Sopat family. They all had a great view over Amethyst Coast and the open Haze Sea especially the west facing ones.
The tower Sen had mentioned wasn’t the entire structure but the one bearing her name, but the whole thing looked darn right impressive from afar.
Uvrycres’ landing inside the cut grass-covered opening was graceful, although he crashed a flower garden at the end on purpose. At least fifty slaves were seen cowering near the small buildings surrounding the estate when Glen climbed down from the wyvern.
You want to visit the top of the hill? See the palace?
“Nah,” Glen replied clenching his jaw and looked away towards the unseen city center. “I’ll just stretch out a bit and wait for Phon-Iv to arrive.”
It might take a while. Are you sure?
“Yep.”
I miss her too buddy, Uvrycres said in his mind and Glen grimaced not wanting to talk about it. He wanted to that is but it was too painful.
“This year is ending pretty badly,” Glen replied hoarsely. “First Sen, now Emerson. This nonsense with Chubin.”
Human deals.
“Bullshit,” Glen retorted angrily and glared at a slave hidden behind some rose bushes. “Hey you. Don’t hide, I can see the darn hair! I need transportation. By the way, I’m not some hoodlum just dropping in unannounced but Phon’s brother in law aye. Or whatever the fuck it’s called around here.”
“The same,” the slave croaked now unseen as he lowered himself even more towards the ground. “Will a carriage suffice?”
“Sure.”
“Can I run towards the estate?” The slave asked still remaining hidden behind the bush. “I’ll be very fast master. One minute.”
Glen glanced at the large three-floors building which sported its own slender towers at the corners and intricately carved arching windows. It was more than two hundred meters away.
“Yeah, fine. Go ahead,” he finally replied. “The wyvern won’t harm you.”
What? Uvrycres retorted. I was just thinking about it!
“Just go,” Glen grunted and the slave bolted it towards the estate as fast as a rabbit that had its tail caught on fire. Making great time and hurling mud behind him.
Whoa! I think he’s going to make it, the wyvern guffawed genuinely impressed.
Look at him run! Hah-hah!
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Glen’s carriage intercepted Phon’s returning caravan two hours later near the harbor. The small square a kilometer from the city’s center flooded with people that wanted a word with Lord Sopat. Phon-Iv had stopped to speak with some of them, a number of the prominent merchant families heads present.
The crowd’s mood ranging from curious to fearful even hostile. Phon-Iv made an effort to win them over standing on the steps of his carriage just as Glen got out of his to approach shoving people away. He didn’t have to try that hard as Glen was fully armed and quite fit. Other than the guards escorting the caravan the crowd was mostly civilians as the bulk of the returning army had camped outside the city.
“Who’s that?” A thin balding Cofol merchant asked.
“The Monarch of Wetull!” Phon-Iv Sopat boomed taking the opportunity. “Rejoice at the sight! The Wyvern’s Keeper is a friend of Lai Zel-Ka and a great ally! My sister’s spirit walks at his side and brought him here! Let’s leave this minor disturbance in the past and look to the future!”
“Me poor brother fell from the terrace,” a local worker said sadly.
“Yeah, don’t know about that Phon,” the first merchant argued.
“Is the man alright?” Phon asked blinking to see who it was.
“The alley cats slurped his brains from the pavement.” The man’s brother replied gloomily.
“And you’ll be richly compensated for it!” Phon assured him a gnarly forced smile on his face.
“What about the damage done to the fruit market?” The merchant from before asked and another larger in girth merchant nodded standing next to him. “People panicked, broke stuff and limbs.”
“That’s on them. My advice is to be braver henceforth Lu-ViLon. We risked our lives for you to keep your market,” Phon-Iv admonished him as that was probably a lot of coin to pour into repairs and reimbursements. “We shall welcome the man!”
Glen paused with a grimace to stare at the gasping crowd while fixing the disheveled -from all the flying about- curls with his hands. The people now had a face for the one responsible for bringing the beast into their city but also an excuse for it. It deflated some of the anger since the white-haired, scarred warrior king looked dangerous at the very-least and if one considered the still circling over Lai Zel-Ka Uvrycres part of the package, then provoking him seemed utterly suicidal.
Still the sporadic cheers were lukewarm and quietened down quickly.
“Can you say a couple of words?” Phon-Iv asked using his cane to come down the three small steps.
“No,” Glen replied and narrowed his eyes at an ogling fat Cofol with purple robes and carrying enough gold chains around the neck to hurt his back. “Where are the Swordmasters of Cautara?”
“Atrusim stayed at the gates,” an unhappy Phon-Iv replied. “They want their men to return back home before the weather turns worse.”
“How worse?” Glen asked and glanced at the clouded sky. “Like snowing?”
“Sometimes it touches them, though it is mostly rains, but it can get cold,” Phon-Iv explained. “The further north you go over the plains and towards the Southwest Oak Forest the worst it gets. After the second Fin Peninsula beyond the Aken’s Remorse River, the climate changes and they see a lot of snow in the winter. Rin An-Pur is only warm near the Gulf.”
That was very detailed.
Glen nodded, threw another look at the curious merchant and changed topic.
“I’d like to talk with them afore they depart.”
“I don’t know if they will immediately. We have time to rest and visit the estate,” Phon assured him.
“I’ve seen the gardens,” Glen retorted. “I need a horse to go through the crowd.”
“Hesam will bring you one,” Phon said and signed for his man to get it done. “But you’ll need an escort.”
“What for? The crowd is friendly,” Glen replied. Some of the civilians close enough to listen in agreeing. The noise increasing around them and more guards appearing to keep them away.
“I can’t let you risk it,” Phon explained. “The word you are here has reached the outskirts of the city. There are Zilan in the harbor also.”
“A ship?”
“Yes. The Fat Libby under Captain Archibald Tidus.”
Good. They’ll take care of Kelly and Asper, Glen thought.
“But they have a contingent of Zilan marines onboard.”
Phon stared at him knowingly.
“I don’t get what you’re saying,” Glen replied.
“It would look horrible if I failed to protect you,” Phon-Iv explained.
Glen puffed out his cheeks and watched Hesam pushing through the crowd on his camel dragging a familiar desert horse behind him.
“I’ll take the escort. Hesam and Samak will suffice,” Glen said finally. “I’ll visit Atrusim and swing back to talk with Captain Tidus in the port.”
“I hoped we could have dinner. Don-Iv wants to meet you,” Phon griped without raising his voice. “Important people want to ask you about Inis-Mir or just shake your hand my Lord.”
Glen had no interest to meet his brother. He didn’t want to see the extended family nor visit the Palace of twelve Spires and gods forbid if he was going to talk with that fat gawking merchant about his daughter.
“There’s time for that,” he retorted gruffly and took the reins from Hesam to climb on the fancy-decorated saddle.
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It took them an hour to go through the streets that slowly returned to some normalcy, with crews working to repair damages and clean out the markets surrounding the city center. Lai Zel-Ka while elongated it was nicely built with straight wide streets and clearly defined neighborhoods.
The aged Segun didn’t appear particularly happy to see him. Daichim at least greeted Glen who smacked his lips in the effort to remain polite.
“I heard you’ll not stay,” he told the heavily armoured Cofol.
“Umm,” Atrusim grunted. “Rumors are like the wind.”
Right.
“It’s not easy…” Glen paused and stared at the Cofols preparing a wagon to send to the market a couple of meters away. “I hoped to have the opportunity to smooth things over.”
“The Nina-Musha are mourning Abadaim’s passing,” Atrusim spat gruffly. “You came all this way for this?”
Glen clenched his jaw to keep the anger in check. “You’ve misinterpreted my intentions.” He hissed through his teeth. “You are doing it again and again Atrusim.”
“Segun Atrusim…” Daichim started but Glen stopped him with a wave of his arm.
“He doesn’t care about decorum,” he grunted. “As I don’t as well.”
Glen had no problem with it but at this point it didn’t matter.
“Speak, king of the Zilan,” Atrusim grunted.
“I wanted an end to the conflict,” Glen retorted an angry tick marring his face. “But not this way.”
“Yet you stood without voicing objection,” Atrusim said gruffly. “Is the King of Wetull powerless all of a sudden?”
Suck on a bag of carameled phalluses!
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“I had two options. None of them pleasant.”
“What was the other one?”
“Burn another city to the ground.”
“What would that have accomplished?” Daichim asked.
“Force the Khan to talk terms,” Glen replied.
“The Horselord would never had agreed even if you destroyed all the cities inside the Khanate,” Daichim argued.
“His son did for less.”
“The third son,” Atrusim noted sourly. “He did it to solidify his bid for the throne not out of pity or compassion. I don’t believe Prince Atpa is capable of either. Are you?”
“I misspoke,” Glen said grinding his teeth. “I respected Chubin and don’t consider his sacrifice a small thing. He reminded me of a man I knew in many ways.”
“Your father?” Atrusim asked without animosity this time.
“Never knew him. I grew up alone,” Glen replied thinking of Emerson. “But yeah, you could say that I reckon.”
The old Segun nodded. “On the scales it was the right call,” he finally said surprising Glen. “A beast master wouldn’t have cared, but a considerate Monarch would.”
“It doesn’t feel like the right call still,” Glen said and breathed out.
“It shouldn’t,” Atrusim replied. “I guess I may have misinterpreted Arguen Garth after all. How do you rule in Wetull? The Zilan are a capricious race and extremely violent.”
Glen glanced in his face but it seemed Atrusim had asked an honest question.
“They are difficult but not everything is black and white,” he finally said. “Some are noble even, gullible and silly. All creatures are alike Segun.”
The two Cofols exchanged a curious look. “Humans don’t eat their own or other peoples.”
“Other than that and I won’t put it past some of us behaving as bad,” Glen replied. “Have you ever met a Zilan Atrusim?”
“They were before my time, their visits sporadic even then, but people have seen them in port these past months,” Atrusim said and glanced at Daichim.
“I may have,” the younger Segun added.
“When was that?”
“Ten, fifteen years back at the docks,” Daichim explained. “At the time I thought nothing of it. Just shady, hooded people keeping to themselves. But I’ve seen one during the summer aboard one of your ships and it reminded me of that group.”
“You must be mistaken,” Glen said. “There’s no way they reached that far. Rain-Minas is still under repair and was a ruin afore that. If someone attempted it anyway, they would have stopped at Eikenport or Ani Ta-Ne, even Fu De-Gar that are much nearer.”
“Once I saw him, my mind made the connection instantly,” Daichim argued. “They are not easy to forget. I could feel them watching me and it was the same this time again.”
Glen stood back a little troubled.
“The king has misplaced his subjects?” Atrusim asked with the hint of a smile.
You old grumpy goat, Glen thought.
“There are some Zilan living outside Wetull,” he admitted. “Why come here though? Lai Zel-Ka is the last large city port of the peninsula. The most distant. The last big port on this side of Eplas as well am I right?”
“That is correct,” Daichim replied. “But I know what I saw and I was curious about the encounters as a younger man.”
“How many times have you seen them in the past?”
“Three out of the five years I escorted our caravans here. Mind you, that was fifteen years ago. After that I stopped visiting as much and I don’t believe anyone has reported anything similar.”
“They weren’t really looking,” Atrusim reminded him and Daichim shrugged his shoulders.
Luthos teasing me with mysteries, Glen thought. But do I really care about some exiled Zilan? Not really. It’s not Lith obviously. That’s across the continent and too far back in the past. Assuming Daichim knows what he’s talking about.
“Your people can visit Goras whenever they want,” Glen told Atrusim. “This is not an attempt to entice Akira to Goras by the way.”
“She’ll consider it,” the old Segun replied. “The Zilan might not want her there Lord Garth.”
“What about Phon’s people?” Glen asked with a smile.
“They might not want her even more.”
“You know what the good thing about being me is?” Glen asked him with a cocky smile and Atrusim stood back raising a set of thick brows. “I’ve a diverse court and don’t care about things like that.”
“Like other people’s opinions?” Atrusim asked.
“If they are stupid yes.”
The old Segun nodded. “It’s good that you have a wyvern,” he told him and Glen couldn’t come up with any retort to that.
So he said nothing.
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Captain Archibald ‘Birdeye’ Tidus beamed seeing them riding near the docks some time later. Glen spotted Asper eyeing some of the Zilan marines on the ship, with Kelly bravely talking to one of them enthused.
“We’ll finish loading up before nightfall,” the captain reassured him after the initial pleasantries. “Flardryn has every ship loaded with a detachment of twenty marines for emergencies so we are a bit cramped but we’ll take them aboard with no problem milord.”
“That’s good,” Glen replied and returned the Zilan officer’s nod. The padded leather shirt of mail-reinforced armour they had on buttoned at the sides and easy to take off in case he found himself sinking to the bottom.
Always a possibility.
“Will the Monarch need an escort?” The Zilan asked. Lefyr was a sturdy veteran that carried two harpoons on his back with sharp steel ends and equally sharp orange eyes.
“I have these two,” Glen replied and glanced at the Cofols still on their mounts. The camels disturbing the horse he’d ridden to reach the docks.
“Five marines can stay back,” Lefyr insisted.
“How are they going to return? I don’t intent to ride on horseback to Goras Lefyr,” Glen countered.
“The next ship. They can wait,” Lefyr replied stiffly.
Glen didn’t know if he wanted to leave them back. Problems could ensue out of nowhere, he thought and allowed his eyes to roam the docks. Looked further over his shoulder at the warehouses and crews working. Several ships docked. Smaller trading vessels mainly circumnavigating the Peninsula south towards the ports of Ane Na-Gar, Luzi Ho-kar and Fu De-Gar. A group of hooded merchants caught his fancy, negotiating with a local near the stands of a metalwork shop’s warehouse.
It wasn’t something peculiar in their stance, probably just a gut feeling sparked from the conversation he had with Daichim earlier and the longbow made out of white wood one of them carried on his or her back.
He turned his head around and glanced at Captain Tidus realizing he hadn’t answered the silent Lefyr.
“Give me a moment marine,” he told him. “Tidus did you unload steel ingots?”
“Ayup. Half a cargo hold.” The captain replied. “The rest was wine, exotic oils and ironwood. We take on spices, incense and silk cloth rolls mainly. A bit of a bother to keep separate.”
“Do they resell the steel?” Glen asked.
“Could be but the warehouse you see sells in retail. Turns some of the load into steel blades or tools,” Tidus explained. “We have better stuff if you’re interested back home and he rarely has clients.”
Hmm. Steel is steel though and can be reworked. Our steel is the best, Glen thought watching the group discuss it with the blacksmith. One of them, they had their backs turned, standing aside at an angle. Despite being too far away Glen realized that he was being watched. Which was probably what had triggered him initially.
“Hesam,” Glen said starting towards the warehouse abruptly. “Come along now.”
“Where to milord?” Hesam asked and behind Glen Lefyr started after him as well, several marines following along.
“Across the cranes and the unloading area,” Glen replied opening his stride. “The warehouses.”
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By the time Glen and his entourage reached the warehouse, the group that had caught his interest had left. They did it without any fanfare, everyone taking a different route or alley and disappearing in the crowded area.
“Look about,” Glen grunted a little annoyed he’d missed them.
“What are we looking for milord?” Hesam asked.
Glen stared at the arriving Lefyr and his soldiers. “Zilan,” he replied.
“All my men are on the ship,” Lefyr noted. “It’s standard protocol.”
Not our own.
“Look about just the same,” Glen retorted and cut inside an alley. He paused seeing the carts moving up and down, cursed and turned around. Hesam with Samak were looking around a little confused, while Lefyr had split his marines in two groups of three and had them searching each road leading to the harbor individually.
They are gone, Glen thought irritated. Sneaky goatfuckers just went poof.
Grinding his teeth, Glen walked past the stand with the steel tools, some ingots of polished steel on its corner, paused to stare at the small vertical road with the moving animal-drawn carts from earlier and then eyed the darker alley three meters to his right. Just a chasm between two warehouses about a meter wide, the ground muddy as it carried sewage water. Yesterday’s rain had flooded it at some point but now the water level had lowered to less than a finger and it dripped out on the larger street.
Glen stepped inside the alley, black mold covering the walls and a heavy stench reaching his nostrils, the path opening up a bit more five meters ahead as the two-story high buildings weren’t exactly parallel to each other. The alley went on for a while, debris and rotten produce tossed inside haphazardly. It exited on the road running the length of the harbor about three blocks away, directly behind the fruit market. He couldn’t see that far as the sun didn’t reach the sludge covered ground.
He started walking inside, boots squelching in the mud and crumpling his nose at the heavy putrid odor. Glen paused again at the widened area of the alley, no more than two-three meters from wall to wall and searched about him. The whiff of incense now reaching his nose coming from a pile of debris, mainly planks and parts of discarded and broken market carts.
“Why not run through and reach the market?” Glen asked raspingly and something creaked, boots wading nervously in mud before a tall hooded female rose from behind the pile. The engraved bow held loosely in her left gloved hand. Glen could see the form-fitting rough-hide armor she wore underneath her now parted heavy hemp cloak. The dark-green dyed leather pants he recognized.
All rangers wore them.
“I heard people talk in the city,” the Zilan said switching to Imperial mid-sentence to add. “About an Aniculo Rokae and then saw a wyvern in the sky.”
“You heard more than that,” Glen said evenly.
“What if I have?”
“Are you lost?” Glen asked not taking the bait as he didn’t recognize her. Was she one of Lo-Minas rangers? Her accent wasn’t common. It reminded him of the crazy witch and he tensed up, his ears trying to take stock of what was happening behind his back. A couple of rats squeaked and she smiled showing four sharp incisors amidst two rows of bleached white teeth. “There are a lot of stubborn marines outside the alley,” he warned her.
“Outside the alley,” she repeated in a taunting manner.
“Where did you get that bow?” Glen asked to stop her from doing anything stupid. “I’ve seen the likes before.” He pointed at the engraved limbs and sculpted grip. “Faelar’s pupils have them. They call it ‘Whispering Wood’ and it only grew in Wetull's isles. What does it say to you?”
The ranger stood back with a frown. She was pretty, in an austere Aelinole manner. Her blue hair pulled back tight in a bun and hidden under the hood. You had to look very closely to spot them.
“There's wood like that elsewhere.”
“Fine. What does it say well-informed girl?”
“To hear you out,” she said and Glen shrugged his shoulders in an I-told-you-so manner. It was a semi-lucky guess there but having Maeriel practically living inside the palace had helped polish his knowledge of Imperial Rangers intricacies. “You mentioned Faelar’s pupils. Which one?” She asked in Imperial.
“Maeriel. Aelinole, Lord Suraer’s daughter. I won’t touch on who the mother was between the two sisters.”
It wasn’t a good jest and the timing was poor also, Glen admitted to himself seeing her light scowl.
“Uhm. Don’t,” she said after a moment, probably to her unseen accomplish who had sneaked up behind Glen’s back in the meantime. Now, Glen knew something was afoot and had a hand on the peleg but if they intended to ambush him, the girl would have taken a shot at him from afar.
Curiosity was oozing out of the Zilan and he could feel her aura on his skin.
“Tanulia,” a male voice protested in that archaic Imperial accent. “He wears an Imperial Hoplite leader’s armour!”
“He does,” Tanulia replied looking at Glen with interest. Had he not been aware of the craziness Zilan carried with them, Glen would have given it a thought given the alternative. If you’re to meet an armed girl in a malodourous dark alley, then it’ll be for the best if the get-together were to be with lewd intentions. “The Monarch leads the Phalanx but we are not your subjects… Arguen Garth.”
Now the way she worked her tongue around those vowels was interesting for sure.
“You’re exiles,” Glen said and Tanulia nodded once.
“Is this a fight?” She asked teasingly.
“You’re from Neil-Dan,” Glen continued and glanced behind his back at the equally tall, similarly dressed Zilan male.
“That’s perceptive your highness.”
“I’ve abolished the Queen’s laws,” Glen retorted. “Exiles are welcomed in Sinya Goras.”
That wasn’t exactly accurate but it suited him at the moment and Tanulia blinked her large light-khaki colored eyes not expecting it.
“That’s… interesting.”
“It is eh?” Glen teased. “How about we try again?” He asked and she nodded working her longbow’s string over her head. The hood pushed a little back revealing the lobes of her ears and high cheekbones. “Ana e Iliwe Sulwao,” Glen said in Imperial and raised his left arm, thumb, index and mid finger pointed at the unseen sky while pressed together.
“All our greetings, our hearts and songs,” Tanulia replied in passable Common and bowed her head.
Glen glanced at the stiff male watching the exchange, a hand on the pommel of a shortsword but his longbow secured on his back. While a fine bow it was made of dark polished redwood.
“What do you say ranger?” He asked him.
“His name is Azrael. He’s my pupil,” Tanulia said.
“Well?” Glen probed in a casual manner. “I want out of dis alley soon. We’re running out of time breathing all that foul shite in.”
“We can’t come to Goras,” Tanulia explained. “Our mission is to bring supplies back.”
“Back where?” Glen asked with a friendly grin.
“We’ll give your words to Lord Sulynor,” she continued dodging his probe. “He’ll know what to do.”
“Does he run things then? With Faelar?”
“Master Faelar was killed recently,” Tanulia said pensively. “We are greatly saddened at his loss.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“We follow the Moon’s daughter,” Tanulia continued. “But Lord Sulynor rules in her absence.”
Again with the stupid moons. “I heard she died as well,” Glen said unsure not wanting to pile on the bad news. Tanulia shook her head right and left.
“The Moon of Dan still breathes. She’s in the company of the Princess,” Tanulia explained and stared at him meaningfully. “For she also supports our cause.”
She’s talking about Lith. What in the miserable ‘n slovenly fuck?
“If the Monarch and Princess are in agreement and aligned with the High Priestess’ wishes,” Tanulia continued with a distracted grimacing Glen nodding her along. “Then we are living in auspicious times.”
“Umm.”
Lith was with the darn witch? That crone lives?
Eh.
Crone was too strong a word.
He tried to remember the witch’s face but failed. All he got was some finely pedicured, bejeweled small toes painted silver. Lith’s face he could remember though. All of it. Glen felt all weird about the young princess given she had opted to leave with Larn years back after the latter had tried to murder him against the Witch’s orders.
That is after she had ordered a silent servant to off him in the first place. Then had gotten cold feet which was a good thing of course.
And Glen was back to her feet again.
Shite.
This is confusing.
“We shall leave the Monarch to his thoughts,” Tanulia said interrupting him. “But take the east exit out to avoid his marines.”
“I meant what I said Tanulia,” Glen said snapping out of it. “Your people are welcomed.”
“We are… not few, Arguen Garth,” she warned him.
“I’ve plenty of room and empty buildings to fill,” Glen assured her and the ranger offered a curtsy once more and walked away. Her pupil…, Glen had already forgotten his name. Ah, yes. Azrael.
Him, at any rate, following after her.
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“Monarch,” Lefyr said tautly when he returned from the alley ten minutes later. “We were unable to find anyone.”
“That’s alright,” Glen replied still thinking of the two rangers.
“But an Elderblood found us,” the marine officer continued and Glen furrowed his brows. He stared into his face in a quizzing manner.
“What Elderblood?” Glen asked and stared at the marine standing next to Lefyr, then at Hesam that was standing on the officer’s other side and behind him at Samak. “Are you sure?” He asked and bend his neck over his left shoulder –cheek touching the pouldron like a cat- to see further back at the rest of the marines. They stood in two rows, three per and had a tall handsome male between them. The man had strikingly sea-green eyes, with silver patterns in them, rich but nicely trimmed, pushed back white hair that concealed his ring-adorned ears with the help of a black silk head cover and left his diamond-shaped face visible.
A handsome Zilan for sure.
“He’s quite known sire,” Lefyr said stiffly. “This is Paeris, the ‘Fair’. He’s a member of the Council of Twenty.”
Glen stared in the Elderblood’s face in silence.
Paeris sighed seeing the moment dragging and offered with an unforced smile.
“Memorable Arguen Garth and so forth,” he said in excellent Common. “I hereby give myself up.”
“Why?” Glen grunted unsure whether he was mocking him or not.
Paeris shrugged his shoulders. “I backed Lord Rothomir’s bid and he’s now dead as a doornail? I believe this is the human expression. Since I’m not interested in ruling, rebelling without cause or anything else, I prefer to return to Wetull than stay with the Cofols.”
Glen smacked his lips and eyed Lefyr. “Was he armed?”
“Paeris? He’s a bard sire,” Lefyr pointed out politely.
“Aha. I noticed no instrument that I can see. Gods forbid if it’s hidden anywhere uncomfortable. Are you any good?” Glen taunted the unperturbed Zilan. “I have a bard in court already,” he added sobering up.
“Truthfully?” Paeris asked remaining unruffled. “I’m told I was pretty good once but haven’t chanted a single note since the First Era.”
This son of a bitch is as old as dirt.
“Why is that?”
“Grew out of it,” Paeris replied keeping his face blank.
“Surely you get the inclination once in a while,” Glen insisted unable to get a read on him but also not feeling any attempt at manipulation by the Zilan.
“I assure you that I don’t and any attempt under pressure has produced horrific results.”
“That bad eh?”
“Yeah,” Paeris agreed casually. For a person that had surrendered himself he appeared pretty cool about it. “Is there another spot open other than the bard’s?”
“I didn’t say the bard’s spot was open,” Glen corrected him sternly.
Paeris scratched his left earlobe with his nails. They were painted black with a red dot in them. “I thought since you asked it was. It’s actually quite the relief that this isn’t the case.”
“Is there anything else you excel at mister Paeris? Remember we are in a public space,” He’d almost used ‘fair’ right there just for the laughs given the male’s scandalous past.
“Just Paeris will suffice Lord Garth,” Paeris said coolly. “It might turn really uncomfortable for both of us if we start adding monikers this soon. Historically I get the more vulgar ones and it’s quite taxing.”
Glen flickered his eyelids and then gazed at him in peace for a moment. Half a smirk appeared on his mouth slowly but quickly it turned into a loud snicker.
The animals near them joined in.
“I’m being serious,” Paeris informed him managing to maintain his blank expression amidst the ruckus.
“I figured. That’s why I’m laughing,” Glen retorted chuckling and shook his head right and left. “If I were you, I’d stay as far away from Goras as I could mister Paeris. We throw a lot of monikers around back home.”
> But Paeris had opted to board Fat Libby as well. With Lord Suraer, Anfalon, Olonelis, Elwuin, Aenymriel and Onas present as well, the Zilan ‘Council of Twenty’ had now seven acting members. At least three more were alive for sure but absent. Which would make it ten.
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