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Aelrindel, of Edlenn
‘Nesande’s Moon Daughter’
‘Hallowed Splendor’
Moira
All of you
Part I
-The ruler of Morn Taras-
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/QCpk7nPV/taras2.png]
A large male monkey let out a roaring cackle of excitement and raised one wiry arm in a comical greeting, the other between its crooked hairy legs, long ring-adorned wrinkled fingers playing with its meaty hairless balls. Ael perked up on the Ostrich’s saddle, half-asleep and lost in her weaved dream-world to stare at the monkey that slowly levitated over the thick branch afore disappearing inside the rich foliage. Not a mischievous flying monkey then, the sorceress decided. Neither a true monkey also.
Naughty Mojo-Lojo is out and about.
A minor deity of the Others pantheon.
This means one of their bigger gods is active and no one watches the madhouse.
The sound of a loud gong coming from not that far away startled the frowning cutely witch anew and she let out a singing moan of alarm –in the witch’s tongue- that snapped the dosing off, but magic-attuned Melon wide awake and was felt like a strange jolt to most of those standing nearby. The cat, hiding inside Lith’s bosom got his head out and stared about him curious.
It was an accident! Aelrindel told him.
I got you big tits, Melon assured her.
“Someone farted?” The cat asked accusingly all those affected which brought a mirthful surge of laughter and diffused the awkward situation. He turned to wink at the witch, but Ael’s eyes were on the massive black-granite tower that had sprouted over the thick Yew Forest’s tall canopy. The flat top of the monstrous construction, familiar as it resembled the Eodrass-dedicated pyramids of the Early Imperial Era, although this was more of a half-finished gigantic Mastaba with an ugly square castle standing at its completed base. The Castle had the tall tower bulging at its center and they could see it for a while, because they followed the sloped, cleared terrain of the open fields, before they started ascending again to reach the walls at the start of the plateau.
The great battlements appeared in all their detail when the topography changed abruptly. The twenty meters in width well-maintained boulevard they had been following -after making the turn at Old Port a couple of weeks earlier to enter Goras Peninsula proper- continued now on this, much more open, flat terrain. The sturdy parapet and crenel dressed granite walls extended across the elevated part of Taras’ plateau and effectively blocked access to it completely. The plateau led in its turn to the beautiful ‘Eternal Springs’ and their ‘Falls’. The clear waters pouring inside the large once picturesque ‘Taras Lake’.
Once, because someone had violently invaded this natural landscape. They had callously cut down all the trees, scrubbed all vegetation, then dug deep to the bedrock shoveling all the earth away, basically striping the famously green and flat plateau clean, in order to erect this monstrosity. These savages had done the same to the edge of Yew Forest that was pushed back half a kilometer. The forested area had turned into eye-hurting grain fields, sheep, and chicken farms. The sun rays bounced off of the flat rock and worked on fields, hugged the smooth –finely polished- granite walls of the gigantic –now not fully visible from up close- castle and then were reflected back to the visitors blinding them, until they reached safety under the thick, tall walls oppressive shade.
“What the fuck?” The cat guffawed in astonishment as they approached the five-meter towering main gates. Human guards barked at the merchant wagons blocking their way to move aside. The road was cleared and Anfalon’s Hoplites entered Morn Taras’ outer fortifications.
Tenebrous Castle, Ael thought feeling her skin tingling with anticipation.
Anfalon paused just after the gates to converse with an officer about army matters. Apparently they had a situation unfolding at the distant Mussel, a port between Third Finger and Lower Talon, at the base of Gish Lament Peninsula.
The old names coming back to her so fast, the sight of the black polished granite of her childhood visions laced with the special aroma of her motherland so suffocating, and finally the sun baking her exposed skin so strong, it became too-much for her to handle. Aelrindel’s senses got overwhelmed and she lashed-out instinctively, the road tiles cracking under the nervous Ostrich’s legs, an icy cold wind blowing out of the blue, branches bending, trees shaking and the Imperial banners on the walls flapping wildly.
The flamboyant crowd murmured taken by surprise at the sudden change in the weather and Anfalon’s hidden under the sinister Hoplite’s helm head, snapped back to inspect the rows of the Hallowed and their colorful guests for the culprit. Nothing to see here, Aelrindel soothed carefully the ancient Zilan’s mind and when that failed, she tickled Legolnir's tiny feet getting the baby to roar a loud a cry of surprise. Anyways, just as fast as it had come, the wind died down, but the white clouds now covered the sun and its light had lessened. The bright early summer-like morning now turned a shade darker.
Anfalon, who had gone to check on his son, returned to his conversation with the officer, after casting a perturbed final glance at their group. Lithoniela that stood near Lymsiel in order to play with little Legolnir she had taken a great liking to, had kept her eyes on the flushed despite the sudden chill sorceress, still in her Moira disguise.
Not an illusion.
The semi-permanent spell had collapsed losing its strength, when Aelrindel had unwittingly casted a variation of the ‘northern wind’ and then had tried in great panic to cover her tracks. The sorceress had prepared for such an ‘accident’ applying good ole, common hair dye and makeup beforehand, and the former-slave girl Moira returned Lithoniela’s worried stare with a prickly grin of assurance.
Small crisis averted. Nicely handled girl, she congratulated herself.
“Ogle-eyed gnomes be cackling!” Clinton Marlo cursed, shifting all nervous on the saddle and with his arms rattled by a shiver. “Darn sudden chill knifed me in ‘em kidneys!”
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“You are to wait in the empty south tower,” Anfalon informed them. “A message has been sent to the Monarch. Given that he’s dealing with a siege at Mussel, I wouldn’t expect him for a week.” The Hoplite paused in deep thought for a moment and then added gruffly. “But things could change. Volatile stands the Monarch’s mind.”
Uhm.
Noted.
“The morning’s light ever shine over your path Legolnir,” Lithoniela bid farewell to the waving little male as Lymsiel walked behind the marching away Anfalon and the rest of the Hallowed. In his stead a very tall, plumage-hat wearing female stood, next to a haughty Cofol. He was sharply dressed in leather, some important official of sorts probably.
“I’m Kilynia. The Royal Chamberlain,” the female Zilan explained. “You can have use of the South Tower and its stables. The fourth floor window provides a lovely view of Taras.”
“The lake?” Lithoniela chanced, while Aelrindel looked about them at the expansive Morn Taras internal yard. Efforts had been made to liven up the interior, but only some barely visible gardens to the east –behind- the castle added some color variation. Black rock, graphite stone and grey dominated most structures irregardless of their use. They had to cross another set of gates to reach the main building, but they were directed south of the castle and the palace itself, to what looked like a gloomy prison-tower.
Not yet used by real folk hopefully.
“Can we visit the castle?” Lithoniela asked with everyone else remaining silent.
“This is part of the castle your grace,” Kilynia replied politely and the Cofol next to her nodded. “This is Rama by the way. You can leave the animals with him. He’s managing the stables.”
A slave?
“The Grand Visier’s stables,” Rama elucidated with a deep bow.
Aha. A bit of Cofol culture of servitude. Semi-important. Right. Hopefully Glen-Avon is an animal lover?
“The princess doesn’t care. Go away Rama.” Kilynia ordered with an angry grimace, then cleared her throat and turned it into a polite smile.
Forget about Lithoniela.
It’s important to learn these things in advance. Insist, Aelrindel urged Rama wanting to learn more. The man stood up straighter.
“I wanted to enquire about the Ostrich? We have a male—”
What?
“Later.” Kilynia hissed through her teeth and the Cofol stood back gloomily.
“I wish to see the palace,” Lithoniela asserted pursing her mouth.
“This is part of the palace your grace,” Kilynia dodged politely, whilst maintaining her composure.
“I see,” Lithoniela said. “I appreciate the quarters Lady Kilynia.”
Well, I’m not really, Aelrindel disagreed, but nodded demurely, smiling at the now penetrating gaze of Rama, who was looking her way very-interested.
Useless creep.
Go pleasure your male ostrich yourself!
“Of course we can,” Jinx intervened distractedly, after she finished scribbling down a note, pink tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth in deep concentration, not to make too many mistakes. A pleased with the final product Jinx gave the small note -a total of five words written on it- to a Cofol servant that was hidden behind the tall Zilan palace official all this time. Whoa there. “It’s for Fiku. Um? The Lord Shield? We live in the same street.” Jinx expounded and then regarded their group teasingly with red-rimmed Gish eyes. “I’ll just head in there to see the princess and be right back with you girls.”
Har-har-har.
How about we come as well you darn Gish?
The grinning Gish twisted around on her heels and started sashaying towards the distant Castle’s stairs –at the base of the Mastaba. She walked normally after a while, as the castle stood two hundred meters away, climbed the stairs to reach the double front doors, where she was stopped by the guards that lowered their spears in a threatening manner. After a brief conversation that included plenty of swearing, equal amount of lewd gestures and a failed attempt to push through the two bulky guards that sounded the alarm, a slightly miffed Jinx marched right back to them across the yard, assumed a fake cool expression mid-way through and upon reaching them again, she puffed a loose pink curl out of her face to declare indifferently.
“She’s sleeping. I’ll come back later.”
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Well, the Monarch hadn’t returned six hours later. In the meantime Aelrindel had fetched a couple of servants and stable hands to bring a bed to their empty, but for some chairs, first floor quarters. They carried the heavy wooden bed up the narrow staircase to the fourth floor, along with most of the chairs and a small table, and placed it there. Next, the sorceress opened the tower’s window to gaze beyond the south edge of the plateau at the distant east gates and walls of Goras. She saw nothing of that, but for the two massive towers.
“That’s Taras,” Sam Mathews explained standing next to her. “From the lake’s shores to the Old Walls. The Favored Heights beyond them to the south, with Hardir’s Port to the west and Sinya Goras Port to the east. Different towns, but Zilan consider them districts of the same city.”
“This is Goras. How can you build a different city in the same place?” Moira queried unsure.
Sam smiled at the perceived jest. “You sure have a bit of a sense of humor lass,” he told her and Aelrindel furrowed her brows troubled as she was of the opinion, she had a great sense of humor.
“Anyways,” the handsome adventurer continued. “We’ll hit the road again with Marlo. Head down to Taras and fix ourselves with a couple beds at the adventurer’s guild building. Check the boards for easy work.”
“Why not stay in the palace?”
“We are not servants’ lass,” Sam replied. “The contract is over. Jinx is back safe and if Garth wants our help, he’ll just ask for it.” The adventurer paused for a moment unsure and then sighed. “Best you find a place with Jinx. She has space aplenty. Remaining in the premises you are bound to catch the Monarch’s eye.”
I better, Moira thought, but there was something in the man’s words she didn’t much like. A blind man can notice me, if I wanted to.
“Is that a bad thing?” She asked innocently.
“Not really,” Sam replied. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”
Um.
“What should I be looking for Sam?” Moira teased.
Sam stared at her a little surprised. “You are a freed woman now lest you’ve forgotten it. You can do whatever you want Moira.”
Moira could Sam Mathews. But I’m much more than that.
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“Sure,” Jinx said, the Gish was about to depart with the adventurers. She paused to glance at Caruso that snored raucously on the bed Moira had brought up and then gave her a wink. “I have plenty of space for you… but know that I’m sort of in a relationship.”
“Is she jealous?”
“Few wouldn’t be of you. But we’re open-minded folk that always experiment,” Jinx deadpanned and then blinked. “Anyways, I’ve plenty of other folk living there but it’s a big place ayup. Phina and Assara obviously. Nothing naughty going on with them by the way.”
“Jinx, we are not interested in your love life,” Lithoniela hissed with a glare. “Moira can’t travel to Taras yet.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“What are you talking about? She’s not yer slave!” Jinx snapped ready for a fight.
Moira cleared her throat to intervene. “Who is Assara? This is an Old Tongue name.”
No silly. Moira can’t notice that!
Hmm. Better pop a button on the chiton.
Oops!
“She’s a Ticu,” Jinx replied absentmindedly, gazing at the parting décolleté, the sorceress took her sweet time to fix. “A very-friendly Ticu.”
“Are you serious?” Lithoniela snarled with glare at the acting surprised for the ‘mishap’ Aelrindel and then turned to Jinx. “You sleep with a Ticu under your roof?”
“My goodness Lith,” Jinx retorted, raising a pink brow. “Ye sound jealous girl.”
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No sooner had the Gish departed with the adventurers, Lithoniela pulled her away from Caruso and Melon –the cat had eventually snuggled near the snoring man’s head, after tapping his mouth with a paw a couple of times to stop him from doing it- to the other corner of the bedchamber.
“We must see Glenavon,” Lithoniela started. “Didn’t we agree you’ll lay low?”
“I am!” The sorceress protested adding knowingly. “They build a town around the lake?”
“So what?”
“I want to see it?”
“What does this have to do with what I’m talking about? Wait. It does sort of, but in the completely opposite manner!”
Aelrindel puffed out in exasperation. “Goddess! The pressure is too much. I’m feeling terribly confined princess.”
“We just got here!” Lithoniela snapped.
“Look at those lifeless gloomy walls! This is a prison.”
“Come again?” Lithoniela asked standing back and the sorceress stooped near her to whisper.
“I don’t like the vibes. What if he locks us in here forever?” She asked meaningfully.
“Did you see that?”
“No. I don’t know… eh,” Aelrindel replied thinking it through. “Some things are not as they should.”
“Which means?”
“The kid. Where did it come from?”
“Didn’t I explain what Jinx told me? You want more details?”
“Don’t you find it strange?”
Lithoniela narrowed her eyes. “No, I don’t. It’s been years.”
“There are two men there.”
“Where?”
“The dream?”
Lithoniela sighed and hang her head. “Didn’t you just say… did you cast a divination?”
“Of course not. Well, yeah… I did that years… a long time ago,” the witch protested. “I saw some things, then I learned you shouldn’t glimpse at the future for it changes, but still… the vision was pretty vivid. I shall meet this Monarch.”
Up close.
“You’ve met him already!”
Closer.
“I wasn’t paying attention then.” Aelrindel argued with a pout. “In the dream he’s one man, then he’s another? So it’s confusing. I met a boy.”
“So what?” Lithoniela snapped in exasperation.
“A girl could mistake another for this difficult and conflicting person? Get taken advantage of?” The witch explained vaguely. “So how can I know for sure? Hmm?”
“A girl should move on and be more careful next time. It’s not that you caused anybody else harm other than yourself.”
Well. That has bits of truth in it, but they are tiny bits and the rest of it is false?
“The Monarch could turn out to be evil. Doesn’t it scare you?”
“Ael, this is Glenavon. You’ll recognize him from a mile away. Wild hair, goofy face and smart ogling eyes.”
“Aye, that’s the kid you’re describing.”
“I really don’t understand what the hell you’re talking about?” Lithoniela retorted mockingly.
Oh boy.
“He’s not pleasant all the times. This is one of those times. Look where he shoved us in,” Aelrindel elucidated and left it at that. She didn’t want to dwell on the matter anymore. The witch feared another vision would be triggered if they continued poking at it.
“Where is Ralnor?” Lithoniela asked after a moment. “You think he made it to Mussel? We might see Aenymriel at some point, you should be careful. Assuming his warnings hold any weight.”
“Ralnor made it,” Aelrindel assured her. “He might be here already. Because Dar Nym is very much a real danger and not imaginary, we better speak about it as vague as possible, or at all.”
Which we are not doing.
Eh.
“I could inform Glenavon to cast her away.”
“You shan’t interfere,” the sorceress warned. “We don’t know their relationship.”
“I don’t fear a court official,” Lithoniela hissed angrily and Moira who had approached the window again to gaze at the beautiful town built near Taras Lake’s south shores replied in her singing voice.
“This isn’t your mother’s court.”
-
> While the army was busy clearing out Mussel and helping the injured, the Monarch flew back to Morn Taras. He arrived a day before the marching back under Lyceron 3rd Othrim, leaving Ulovir’s 2nd Othrim to deal with the aftermath. Lord Garth met with Lord Shield Fikumin and was briefed on the happenings in the capital. He setup a meeting with Lithoniela of Baltoris next, pondering for long whether to ‘give it a day’, or just ‘get it over with’ and decided to split the problem down the middle and meet the old princess that evening.
>
> Lithoniela and her small entourage had stayed at Morn Taras’ South Tower, which was unfinished and empty as most of the castle grounds. The reason for it quite simple. The Monarch wanted to avoid the news spreading, as they had been contained until then from the tight-lipped Anfalon’s troops. Mussel knew about the Princess’ return afore Taras found out. The news of the army’s win against the mercenaries in contrast reached Taras proper soon after the Monarch returned and the locals rejoiced at the threat’s swift elimination.
>
> The almost certainly tired after the battle Garth, he’d returned to Taras hours after it ended, originally suggested they use the East Tower to house the princess instead ‘since it’s furnished’, until Lord Fikumin reminded him that the East Tower was Morn Taras’ prison and dungeons.
>
> ‘That’s a good catch friend,’ Garth immediately admitted. ‘We shouldn’t do that.’
>
> To which the Lord Shield had replied. ‘Nay my Lord, we better not.’
-
The ancient trees were singing inside Nesande’s Garden. Some of it just segments of hymns and some naught but simple calls to one another, the wind picked up to carry across Marionel River, Edlenn’s rich Orchard and the melted ruins of the Greenhouse. Over the Desert Watch peak, across Serpent’s Canal and the misty Sandalwood Forest, all the way to Goras Peninsula.
Leave child. You are in danger, her mother whispered standing in front of the large open window and Aerindel blinked her sleepy eyes inside the dark room. She spotted Lithoniela dosing off next to Caruso at the bed, with the cat sleeping amongst them. The witch’s eyes searched the dark silent room, but she couldn’t see anything but the shades cast by the moonlight coming from the window. The light passing through her mother’s ethereal apparition. Slowly her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness that retreated giving ground to a murky grey filter, she could now see more detail through.
One of the elongated shades cast by the right edge of the window detached, the hidden figure’s feet not making any noise on the granite tiles. The cloaked figure paused to examine the bed’s occupants for a moment, then shook its head hearing calls from the yard four floors down. The figure turned around to walk towards the window, missing her mother’s dissolving apparition for half-a-second, but hesitated before stepping out. The unwelcomed visitor turned its head slowly to regard the watching it through half-closed eyelids Aelrindel, who had slumped on the armchair pretending to be asleep and holding her breath.
The moment dragged on, until the witch heard the creepy clacking of small feet walking outside the window and the still figure regarding her decided to move again with a barely audible sigh.
“Just a Cofol slave,” the voice whispered to the unseen accomplice outside the window and stepped out of it as well. Aelrindel reached for her leather bag, but decided not to engage as she was too-rattled. She waited a bit more to hear whether their uninvited night visitor would crash to a well-deserved death on the yard below the fourth floor window and when that didn’t happen, the miffed witch got up and rushed to the window.
She dangerously peeked out of it and the large drop underneath, but saw no sign of the figure.
Probably walked the shades silly, Aelrindel scolded herself.
“What in Goddess’ name are you doing?” A bemused Lithoniela asked from the bed, but before she could answer, someone knocked on their door and a loud wyvern’s cry was heard reverberating inside Morn Taras’ yard. The startled witch recoiled violently and almost tumbled ironically out of the open window to her death.
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RRRREEEEE
“Alright, there’s no point to delay this any further,” Lithoniela explained after she finished talking with the Cofol herald, while the pale Aelrindel was still collapsed on the armchair trying to recover from the scare. She had to empty her bladder in the bucket twice, which had prompted Melon to do the same in the room’s corner for a different reason. “The cat stays obviously.”
“Why?” Melon argued aggressively.
“You are not spraying piss in the palace. Hear the wyvern?” Lithoniela explained.
RRRRRREEEE!
Melon licked his hairless paw. “Good point! I’ll stay this one out perky tits!”
Caruso rolled his eyes at the disfigured cat.
“Maybe I should as well,” the witch said.
Lithoniela looked at her annoyed. “Nobody would even look at you.”
What?
“Firstly that’s never gonna happen,” Aelrindel snapped at the affront, getting some of her spark back. “Secondly it’s insulting. Thirdly—”
“It’s what we want Moira,” Lithoniela cut her off in a rude manner. “Not to get noticed?”
The witch pursed her opulent lips tightly, then jolted again hearing the wyvern welcoming the evening with another ear-piercing trumpet.
“Surely the wyvern isn’t staying here?” She croaked.
“Do you wish to stay?” Lithoniela hissed. “You’re a grown female. You’ve been around wyverns before!”
“What that’s supposed to mean?” The witch snarled angry. “I’m the… second youngest in the Council probably!”
“The Elderblood Council,” Lithoniela argued.
“Uhm. So?”
“I’m walking across the yard. They are waiting for us. Glenavon could fall asleep, or forget all about it if we are late.”
“Reckon it’ll be for the better not to insult the ruler,” Caruso added diplomatically.
“Fine,” Aelrindel snapped. “But I’m staying behind you,” she told the adventurer.
“Moira,” Lithoniela said softly. “Nobody knows you’re here. Trust me, Glenavon won’t even bother with you, or Caruso.”
Hmm.
RRRRRREEEEEH?
Shut up you!
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Rimeros, an even more obnoxious Zilan official –although Kylinia was by far the worst- stepped aside for the well-dressed stout dwarf to approach them. They had been traveling inside Morn Taras’ halls for twenty minutes at least. Down dark, high-ceiling corridors and guarded doors to reach this massive, also pretty dark, columned throne room. They had stopped still quite afar from the elevated granite throne –no surprise there- just after the last two finely engraved, polished black gigantic columns. Quiceran, if the architect had survived, had nothing to do with this monstrosity. This screamed of a semi-cultured, but more restrained and agenda-driven Elwuin in its size. It wasn’t made to exude greatness though which had always been Elwuin’s intention, but awe and fear.
This was built by a different architect.
The room extended for a bit more beyond the excessively-large throne altar, a large staircase to the west heading for the unseen tall ceiling above their heads and what looked like an internal balcony could be seen hanging lit, six or seven meters above it at least, well behind the also illuminated empty stone throne.
Oh, great.
Walk faster, the princess had said. We need to be punctual and not to appear unserious, she had declared. What nonsense! Aelrindel thought frustrated, trying to remain in character.
“Princess, to the heavens above our greetings. Your presence brings a ray of light into this Hall,” Lord Fikumin greeted Lithoniela, who stepped forward to take his arm.
I bet it does!
“Our thoughts and prayers,” she replied warmly. “Have you found your jewels Fikumin?” Lithoniela asked and Moira noticed a very-young female Zilan standing behind the dwarf, a big shy smile on her face.
“Some,” the impressively bearded dwarf admitted in a gruff manner, as no dwarf was ever comfortable nor happy to divulge his personal affairs. “But not everything one finds is real gold.”
“It never is,” Lithoniela agreed. “So we must treasure that which is.”
Oh, please. This could take forever!
Some commotion was heard from the direction of the throne, about twenty meters away, a door opening and closing, followed by the clanging of armour. A helmed, fully armoured, Hoplite appeared, and then a masked Royal Rokae, a Zilan Knight. The Rokae walked across the throne and took position on the east side, with the Hoplite marching to stand on the west.
Seriously? The witch grimaced and raised her eyes towards the now occupied balcony. Just behind the polished stone rails, a sober Zilan female stood, wearing a Ranger’s outfit. The ranger had a girl lifted in her arms to allow it to watch the events below from that good vantage point. The girl had dark rubicund hair and wore a silk, golden tunic. Something sparkled in the girl’s hands and at first Aelrindel thought it was some kind of strange doll fashioned out of glittering jewelry and gold, but then the golden-scaled tiny wyvern moved and the startled witch felt her blood freeze.
“How is Glenavon?” Lithoniela probed oblivious to Aelrindel's plight.
There’s another wyvern! Look!
“Late,” Fikumin replied inflexibly with a glance behind his shoulder at the stiff Rimeros that took two forward steps to announce the Monarch.
“The Impervious prophesied Hardir O’ Fardor,” Rimeros started, raising his voice a bit more with each word. “An Aniculo Rokae returned, the Lord of Morn Taras and Sinya Goras, Protector of Abarat and Lo-Minas. Keeper of Nesande’s Temple, the 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. Ruler of Jade Lake’s territories and Ani Ta-Ne. Duath Erin I Menel and the Monarch of Wetull. Palan-Hinnen Arguen Garth, O’ Nielek Aniculo!”
Whoa.
A silence befell inside the largely empty hall, obeyed by their small group, but also the officials and the guards present. Then a wiry man, clad in the custom black muscled cuirass of a Hoplite covered in gold details, all the way to the helm that had a full-face metal mask on and the Crown of Horns incorporated into it, marched past the bowing respectfully Rimeros to climb lithely the stairs to the throne.
Several figures appeared right and left from the raised throne, the most notable an official carrying a lute on his back, the Elderblood Priests Voldomir and Feyras, the Gish Jinx and a huge Northman. The man is a giant half-breed for sure, Aelrindel thought impressed. What in Goddess’ toes is this? The last ones to appear walking slowly to sit on the throne’s stairs, another Elderblood Aenymriel and some meters behind her, half-hidden behind the throne a hooded figure.
Not the one that had visited them earlier.
Dar Nym had a plain tunic on, but the witch was now certain it had been her. She could smell her scent.
“Hey Lith,” the Nord giant said raising a trunk like arm in greeting.
“Hey Soren,” Lithoniela returned the greeting. “I heard about Zola. I’m sorry.”
“We all were,” the Monarch cut in with a hoarse voice that sent a chill down the witch’s spine.
“The Imperial Princess Lithoniela of Baltoris,” a discomforted Rimeros announced, sounding miffed that the whole carefully-prepared protocol had been tossed aside. “The Throne welcomes your highness back into the Imperial fold,” the Castellan continued and Aelrindel noticed the rigid Hoplite turn his helmed head to gaze at the princess as the news spread inside the hall by the many more unseen bystanders.
The place needs lights, the nervous Aelrindel thought just as Lithoniela addressed the masked Monarch, the man looking a lot like the one in her dreams but also not quite. The armour is a bit different hmm. The expressionless mask had a smile on it for starters…
“Are these the Monarch’s wishes?” Lithoniela had asked and the mask changed expression, as if it was a real face with skin made out of metal. Lord Garth smirked and Aelrindel gasped audibly and grabbed at the startled Caruso’s arm to support herself. When she managed to recover her wits sufficiently and stand upright on weakened knees, half the court was looking at her unsure. Half, because Moira was standing several meters behind the princess and Fikumin, and was almost hidden by the robust adventurer.
“It’s been a long journey,” Lithoniela said breaking the awkward moment.
“Then you should rest,” Lord Garth said, in a friendlier tone. “As Rimeros said, you are welcomed here Lithoniela.” The Monarch’s penetrating amber gaze went from the princess, to Caruso and finally stopped at the peeking tensed, heavy-breathing Moira, afore adding in that unmistakable rustle that had haunted the witch’s dreams since she had been a little girl. “All of you.”