==|Interlude 1|==
Wishes and Desires
“Hey, Mr. Chong, thanks for letting us come over today.”
“No need to thank me; oh, how was the chalet trip?”
“...it was nice.”
“Yeah, thanks for sponsoring the week.”
“It's my pleasure. Please, make yourself at home.”
As Roland’s two friends made their way into his home, his father peeked from a corner, his father peeked out from his workroom, waving at the two old friends of his first and only son. Immediately, the three old friends headed for the dining table, putting their belongings on the chairs, joining Roland’s laptop, stationary and sheaf of papers. Since it was starting to reach the warmer and wetter months of the year in Singapore, all three of them were wearing light cotton T-shirts, the casual outfit of choice.
“Chalet. Right.” After the elder Chong retreated back into his room. Vernon nodded at Roland with a knowing smile.
Roland, for his part, simply shook him off with a wave of his hand. “You guys want drinks?” He asked, playing the host.
“Nah, it's fine,” Ishaarq answered, already pulling out his notebook and textbook - the latter of which was twice as thick as the former. “Besides, it's Ramadan, you know what that means.”
“Rip.” Vernon replied, getting into his seat and pulling out a textbook equally as big’s as Ishaarq’s.
“You aren’t staying for dinner then?” Roland asked, slipping into his beside the rest of them, grabbing the first document on his sheaf, pulling up one of his many prescribed textbooks on the computer screen. “Shit, I cooked mee goreng or four people.”
“Yeah, gotta go home and have the break fast meal. Besides,” Ishaarq poked at Roland, “I don’t think your food is as good as my mum’s cooking yet.”
“Fuck you,” Roland poked back pettily. “I’m still new to cooking, ok?”
“Yeah well, its instant mee goreng, isn’t it?” Ishraaq replied, laughing. “Maybe cook an actual meal next time then I will think about staying around.”
“I’ve added ingredients and vegetables, though.”
“Stillllll not convinced.” Ishraaq shook his head. “Instant mee goreng doesn’t compare to a full family meal.”
Roland wanted to continue, but quickly saw the truth in Ishraaq’s point. Sighing, he nodded, whispering, “Too bad Ma’s gone.”
Neither Vernon or Ishraaq said anything, simply putting a hand to pat Roland’s back briefly. After a few moments, Vernon coughed, and asked, “so…how was your trip?”
Roland sighed, the memory of the experience settling in roughly. “I almost died,” He said, matter-of-factly.
The tone of the conversation immediately worsened, as if someone had just dropped a bomb in the room.
“Are you fucking serious? That twice in a row, my dude.” Vernon could barely restrain his voice, staring straight at Roland with worried frustration. “What the heck happened?”
“I…” Roland laughed a little, his mind still clashing with the absurdity of those events. “So…yeah, lets just put it this way; I had to go and help fetch something, only to get attacked by a bunch of…let’s call them raiders, at the same time. If I didn’t get rescued at that point…” He rubbed his neck again, feeling the slight scarring from where the Kanssari’s knife had pressed into.
“Aiyoh…” Ishraaq asked, disapprovingly clicking his tongue “No permanent injuries, right…?”
“Hopefully…” On instinct, Roland raised his left hand, examining it. Despite the quick healing - or, maybe, because of it - his arm still bore the scar tissue from the crystal imploding, the sight of which made all present parties cringe a little. “The scars should go away after a while.”
“Your pa didn’t ask?”
“I think he haven’t noticed.” Hearing mention of his father, Roland quickly dropped his arm out of sight. “Maybe he just thought it was barbeque burns, I dunno.”
“I think you should back off from this for a while, you know?” Ishraaq continued. “Seems to me that you are just going to keep getting caught in this sort of stuff, then you should take a break for a moment.”
“Maybe someone should go along to watch him next time.” Vernon added.
“Maybe I should.” Ishraaq replied darkly. “Who knows what this idiot might get into.”
“Ok Ok…” Roland sighed. “Look, I know…besides, its the second half of the semester and I’ve got to catch up on all the stuff they’ve went through..” Roland pointed at the sheaf of documents he was planning to go through. “But I mean, I’m still, here, so everything’s fine, right?”
“‘Everything’s fine, right’, says the guy who almost died twice in a month.” Vernon repeated with an ironic echo. “Dude, you’ve got gold and shit, right? At least invest in some sort of guards or escorts for yourself, that way you at least won’t die.”
“I mean…” Roland sighed. “The Mallebrium’s there, and its a pretty safe place with the Uiatachians and their guards - of course, that one time with the brothers is a thing, but in the end its like one of the most highly guarded places, being underneath the royal court and all. And random mercs can’t get in anyways without a royal warrant or something.”
“Then at least ask them to keep guarding your ass lah.” Vernon continued to chide. “Come on, its your life, oh my god. You can’t take it like its some little thing and then forget about it.”
“I know, I know, ok, no need to baby me, alright?” Roland squealed, battening down in face of his friend’s nagging.
“Then what have you done?”
“I…arrrgh.” Roland paused to catch his breath, before continuing. “Ok, look, they are going to train me in…actually defending myself, and Madeline’s promised to help me not be so clueless with shit…I will see about finding guards, alright?”
“You’d better, man.”
“Ok, both of you chillax.” Ishaarq finally stepped into the conversation, tapping a pen on the dining table like as if he was the group’s unofficial judge. “I know you are worried for him, Vernon, but Roland’s still gotten a lot of shit already, probably don’t need to push him too hard.”
“Well, he’s wanting to get involved with another world and all that, least I can do is make sure he’s safe, right?”
“Yeah…” Ishaarq turned to Roland, “You heard that right?”
Roland simply nodded.
“Come, lets focus on our work first, we can probably talk about it later…
Sheepishly, all three turned their attention back to their carefully prepared stacks of homework.
==|==
About an hour later, with various tasks done and half done, conversation started up again, and Roland continued regaling his friends with tales of his exploits.
“So they couldn’t bring coal down from the…er, northern kingdom, so they had to ask you for a different power source?”
“Yeah, and that was kind of how the trouble started, and I ran into the Kanssari…”
“I know, you mentioned them already.” Ishaarq asked Roland all sorts of questions about Hristomver, while Vernon was simply content with listening. “So these…Sansuignors, they don’t have the best of times in Straskey?”
“The whole of Strovia actually. Yeah, they are like this weird mix of outcast, refugee and travelling merchants…I guess?” Roland shrugged. “I mean, my main contact is a full-fledged noble, but he’s still really sore about things, so I assume his family or friends don’t have the best of times.”
“Refugees.” Vernon finally commented. “Fuck lah, that’s pretty bad. Why haven’t they left?”
“The way I hear it…its because they are still hoping that they will finally get their place in Strovia - I mean, they already have villages and a semi-pernament population, they’ve been living there for centuries…”
“And ever since this Strovia collapsed, it's doubtful whether they can get that status as…citizens or whatever the equivalent is…right?” Ishraaq asked.
“Uh-huh.” Roland nodded.
“Shit.” Ishraaq uttered a rare curse. “That means unless something big changes, they will be stuck in that state for the rest of their lives - and the same thing for their children as well.”
Roland didn’t say anything, simply nodding as he remembered Navras’s words.
“Sounds pretty awful to be honest. Wait, is it because they are of a different race?”
“Yeah, Vernon,” Ishraaq tapped his pen on the table, “that’s actually a pretty good point. Racial minority and refugees…”
“I know right?” Vernon replied animatedly, even as Roland started to make confused looks at both of them. “I mean, taking everything Roland’s said, they are a racial minority, so it makes sense that could be the reason.”
“And that might be why they almost got him to-”
“Ok wait wait wait,” Roland put his hands up, finally catching on to the conversation. “I mean, yeah but its not that simple…the way it was supposed to happen was that the Sansuignors were supposed to be granted permissions and rights for various reasons…but you know, the whole collapse of the country came first.”
“I mean, if you go to another world in fantasy movies or games, its always about fighting a dark lord or some evil empire, more often than not such a problem appears here. Its more like…going to other countries and seeing the racism going around…”
“I mean, its not like we don’t have problems here, you know,” Ishraaq said, the joviality fading from his voice. “Regarding race, that is.”
“Oh, er….ahaha, sorry Ishraaq, I didn’t mean that.”
“Nah, it's fine, it’s fine…no harm taken.” Ishaarq quickly brushed it off. “But yeah, it's funny how we were poking fun about Roland playing around in another world and meeting all sorts of weird people…and the enemy there isn’t some dark lord or evil monster but…”
“Discrimination,” Roland added somberly. “I mean not that I want to go and fight like, evil monsters, but…”
“Every place has the same sort of problems, even in a magical world.”
“Bleh.” Vernon added, not liking where the conversation is going. “So Roland, whaddya think?”
“What do you mean, I think,” Roland said, twisting his pen around his fingers. “Its…obviously a complicated issue, but right now, and where I am, the most I can do is help…whoever I can help at the moment … it's not like I can set up a fucking internet poll and ask the entire population for their opinions, before changing their minds, you know?”
“Well, you could;” A cheeky grin appeared on Ishraaq’s face. “Just buy a hundred laptops and set up some magic Wifi, and teach everyone how to click yes or no.”
Roland groaned, a languid expression that screamed ‘that’s not how it works’ hanging from his face. “Implying I even have that sort of money on me...”
Vernon sniggered, going for the jugular. “That’s not a problem, like, don’t you have like, ahhh…your sugar mommy to bail you o-?”
“Fuck you understand she’s not my sugar- whatever!” With a mixture of horror, embarrassment and wounded pride Roland leapt out of his seat, grabbing a worksheet and rolling it up. The entire table descended into a chorus of hooting laughter as Vernon raised his arms to fend off his slightly fuming friend, while Ishraaq began to corpse in his seat.
“You guys seem to be having fun.”
The laughter quickly died as all three of them spotted Roland’s father coming out of his workroom. All three of them instinctively reached for their stationary again, trying to keep a pretence of work.”
“Sorry, if we disturbed you, Mr Chong.”
“No worries, I don’t mind.” the elder Chong didn’t turn to leave, insteading hovering around the table, moving closer to his son. “So what’s so interesting that’s got all of you so animated?”
“Ehhhh…” All three secret-keepers looked around at each other, a pulse nervous laughter running through the conspiratal ring. “I guess we were talking about some dumb poltical stuff, nothing that interesting really…”
“Oh? Something about the upcoming by-elections?”
“No lah…” Vernon quickly added. “Roland here was talking about how to change things in the world…and you know? It kinda just spiralled from there, eh…”
“Change the world hmmm? Well, now you mention…”
And with the dogged determination of a parent all too eager to impart life lessons to the younger generations, the elder Chong launched into a extended, if unwanted, speech, that his son and his friends listened out of respect.
“Well, a single person can do quite a bit in the modern world, but fundamentally, nowadays large scale change is done in our world through the power of institutions and cooperation. And maybe my opinion is mistaken since, well, I’m not a historian, I’m a physicist…but I believe that so far, what humans have accomplished so far has been solely through collective organizations working towards a goal, be it whatever it is, by the amassment of resources and collective power.”
The words led the room into silence, until Ishraaq broke it. “But then, what about the individual? The man in the system? Don’t they get a say in the matter?”
“Well…” A heavy sigh came from the oldest man in the room. “In a hierarchical system, the people nearer to the top are the ones that make the decisions nad have a bigger say. Of course, some places listen to the ones that aren’t so high, but in the end, basic laws of resources and centralization means that the decisionmakers are the ones up there, right?”
All three reservists nodded.
“I know Yiwen here has big dreams, even if he doesn’t like to say it out loud.” Roland’s father laid a hand on his son’s shoulder with a satisfied sigh. “Still though, all dreams have to be tempered by some level of realistic thinking…and that’s why I keep telling him he needs to have a clear idea of where he wants to head and rise up. Same goes for you two, by the way.”
“Pa…you don’t have to sound that grim to them.” Roland laughed nervously. “You make it sound like everyone has to start racing each other now.”
The elder Chong let go of his sons shoulders with a shrug. “Fair. I shouldn’t be too hard on you guys. You three are in university and still working your ways up. But its just something to keep in mind. Especially for Roland. So,” He turned to his son, “have you talked to Professor Kleiner yet?”
“Yeah, I did.” Roland said hesitantly. “Well, I don’t think he likes me, honestly speaking.”
“Kleiner’s like that; you just have to prove yourself to him before he takes you in as part of his research. But that’s why you have to push ever harder to do so. Prof Kleiner…he can teach you more than most.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Noted.” the younger Chong just kept quiet, a knot forming in his stomach. A brief silence took hold, the accentating the awkwardness of the conversation.
“Hey, Mr Chong…don’t mind me asking…but what did you end up doing?” Vernon, in uncharacteristic politeness, asked the elder Chong. “I mean, we all know you are a local Prof in Roland’s faculty, but…”
“I did accomplish some things in my life, well…” The elder Chong looked out of the window, a little wistful. “But you know, let’s not talk about me and the regrets of a man getting older, lets talk about you guys, since, you guys should worry about yourselves more?”
All three nodded again, knowingly not wanting to pursue the subject.
“I see you all are busy working, so I will just leave us, ah?” The elder Chong turned away, walking back to his room. “Good luck with your studies, all of you.”
“Thanks, uncle.” Both Ishraaq and Vernon intoned.
Silence descended on the table, all of them mulling over the sudden, unsolicited advice.
"So if we take what your father is saying, if you want to make change in Hristomver, you have to become a full-fledged noble…or the King."
"Imagine coming home one day and having to tell Pa that I'm now a Centannus of Straskey or something like that." Roland muttered under bated breath, eliciting snickers from the rest.
“..remind me, he wants to follow in his footsteps, right?”
“Well, since I went and told him I wanted to do Physics just like he is doing, he’s been doing his best to push me along, you know?” Roland sighed. “I mean, I know he means well, even if he making me meet all the faculty and learn more is kind of tiring…but I wonder if he knows…”
“Knows what?”
All three of them leaned in closer, as Roland began to a few dark secrets.
“...if he knows that I was honestly not sure what the heck I was going to do back then. Maybe after Ma died, he’s…more sure of his mortality or something, hence why he’s pushing me so hard.” Roland peeked back at the stack of papers beside him, the gargantuan amount of material to work through dampening his spirits.
“I think, overall, he just wants me to follow in his footsteps, since he thinks I’m a bit of a…”
“No-goals sort of guy?” Vernon added
“Uh, yeah, that works.” Roland muttered. “Maybe he’s somewhat right.”
Silence fell on the group again. Vernon put a hand on Roland’s shoulder again and Ishraaq smiled, both in sympathetic understanding; but to Roland, their lack of anything to say simply hung over him like a sword of everpresent dread.
“Nothing we can do but continue, I guess.”
As he said so, he pulled the next worksheet from his stack, rebeginning his work.
==|==
The Sage and the Priest
Within a cellar, a stone lined chamber under the ground with a floor of dirt and few candles to illuminate it, sat the Custodian of the Catechy to Everlasting Findriel, working tirelessly under the light of a single candle on a piece of parchment.
As the Custodian proceeded laboriously over his holy work, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.” He said, putting his well-worn quill away and turning to face his long-awaited guest.
A hooded figure walked it, wearing the robes of one of Ris’s charges. However, immediately, Ris stood up and bowed, a deep reverence in his action.
“Greetings…my lady Utomos.”
As the door closed behind the guest, she removed her hood, revealing herself in full. Streaming golden hair cascaded from the hood as it was freed from it, underlying a pair of glowing crimson irises underneath. As she walked towards Ris’s table, the Utomos did so with a priestly elegance - one inherited from the forebears of the Order that Ris so revered.
“Rise, Custodian.” Ris’s guest replied in a measured female voice. “It is good to see you again.”
“How was your journey to Orismuth?” Ris asked, standing back up.
“Uneventful, although it was difficult getting past Vorstadt’s border guards.” The newcomer replied, settling into the chair opposite Ris. “Randall has intensified the number of troops around Envirost and the border beside Plimsveri. Perhaps he does not feel confident in his recent gain.”
“What about the Old Capital, my Lady?” “Have the Vorstadians done anything to it?”
The Lady Utomos clicked her tongue, placing her elbows on the chair’s armrests and weaving her fingers. “Your concerns are noted, but so far, the Vorstadians are merely squating a garrison within it, nothing more. Taking the food and crops, sure, but so far, nothing else.”
“I thought - feared - that they would have done more.”
“Not after I told our friends to stand down and open gates.” The Utomos replied nonchalantly. “And if they do try anything…well, our agents will be waiting.”
“I see…I see.” Ris opened another scroll, while carefully rolling up the one he was just reading. “But…doesn’t this mean…Uriat Randall is on his way to claim the Velvet Seat? I can’t see it, but…”
There was a pause, as both parties considered the possibilities.
“That man…” a dark look crossed the Utomos’ face. “By Wrifen-Driel’s grace, he would have the restraint not to,” Ris’s guest stood up, pacing the room slowly as she thought. “He should very well know the consequences of such an action, yet…”
“I’ve heard the stories. That man is avarice and ambition personified."
“I can’t think…no, perhaps its too early to tell.” Sighing, the Lady Utomos returned to her seat. “Enough about those matters, Custodian - what were you reading.”
“Quite a few things, my Lady, especially in light…” Ris sighed. “In light of recent events…”
“Yes, I’ve heard the details. The Kanssari were unhappy…and they struck at the worst possible timing, when the guards for the Archive and your personal ‘attendants’ were summoned to Envirost. If they had been there, I’m certain the Sansuignors would have been repulsed.”
“Perhaps,” the Custodian replied, scratching his head. “And yet…over the past few days…I have been tormented by the question that their action was just.”
“Oh?” the Lady Utomos tilted her head, messy golden hair spilling to the side. “That is not something I would hear from one of the most fervent defenders of our archives.”
“You flatter me, my lady,” Ris replied, as he took two of the scrolls in his hands and began to lay them in front of them both. “And yet…seeing what they have accused us of, and the evidence that hath been brough forth…it would not be wise to merely dismiss them.”
“Hmm.” the Lady Utomos looked at them, frowning. “What have they accused us of?”
“Of hoarding their secrets, and stealing them.” Ris said. “And to which…it is not beyond reason. Their lack of wealth is indeed well-known…especially the loss of their forges and their greatest smiths. And to that, they have insisted that what was lost, has been kept in our holds, beyond our reach.”
“The Lembass of the Danaeifards have backed them up.” Ris pointed at one of the scrolls. “They have said that works by…by Vrize, the Thinker, are actually those of their ancestors, and their claim was heard by the Sovereign Watch. With such a claim, its likely the Crystal Court will move…and the already the Princess’s Mallebrium - and those Uiatachian curs - have staked their claim.”
Seeing the older man’s hestitiation, the Lady Utomos reached out. Her gloved hand touched that of the Custodian’s, a gentle touch between once-teacher and student. “I remember…our old lessons. You always said…that the creator, Vrize, was your greatest inspiration.”
“He was, indeed.” Ris made a pained sigh. “And now…”
“...I suppose all our heroes may have their hidden flaws.”
“It is often said for most, but I daresay we never…” Ris’s voice shook. “I daresay we never think of our own heroes when we make such remarks.”
Hearing his words, the Lady Utomos became pensive. “If the work of the Thinker must be examined and checked…perhaps we must fear that there were other errors, mislabels…or perhaps, outright stolen knowledge that may exist in our archives. It is a troubling thought to have, I must say.”
“And we do not have the records.” Ris lamented. “The Collapse of the Realm and our ancestors’ haste to save every little thing from the fires of destruction.”
“It is certainly a conundrum. I wonder…did Vrize truly steal the work of his attendants…or did he put his name on them, so as to ensure they would be safely kept for the future?”
“My Lady…that is an interesting question.”
“Well…” Ris’s commander looked away, lost in thought. “I wish to ask our forefathers these questions, even as they cannot answer them. If I remember correctly, the biographies of Vrize show a man who was a friend and reserved person, all too eager to please those above and beneath him. He does not seem like one who would steal another’s glory, but even then…”
“It is possible, given the Sansuignors’ lack of ability to keep their records, that Virze did stake his name on these scrolls for virtuous reasons… but as you said, we cannot ask the dead.”
“Tebris sommnium filat.” the Lady Utomos muttered in ritual. “More pressing question…we simply would not have the manpower to handle such a review and assessment of all our archives at this time.”
“We do have help…but its…its the Princess’s Mallebrium…or more accurately…the dastardly Uiatachians that she has recruited to serve her interests.”
“Mercenaries of knowledge, indeed.” the Lady Utomos scoffed. “The heirs to Strovia continue to defile their birthright every day…and yet, if we are unable to solve the problem…we may as well have to rely on them first.”
She mulled over the thought for a little longer, before settling on a conclusion. “I think I will send you some of our other archivists from Berlismo, seeing that it is all quiet…save for all the usual activity at the Gywhere Pass. With those…they should supplement our needs.”
“And then?”
“Reach out to the Sansuignors; try to have as much work done with the Straskian archives before the Mallebrium comes around…when they do, they will be backed up by Straskian royal decree, so you must try to arrange an arrangement with the three Clans, so to limit the portion of our archives that will be exposed to the Uiatachians.” She paused.
“Very well,” the Custodian bowed. “I see. Still, in light of all that has occurred…you are willing to overlook the Kanssari’s incursion?”
“This is…merely a manuever. I suppose I should be the one asking you that question, not I, given that you…suffered at their hands?
“As much as I am loath to think so…the Book of dialogues say, that if a neighbour has turned on you with anger, it is duty to listen them out.”
The Lady Utomos paused for a moment in the doorway, as if balancing the thought like the Sages of old. “If that is your wish…Teacher.” she finally replied, pondering.
“Though…I must elucidate on another matter.”
“What is it?”
“Other than the Sansuignors, we had another…uninvited guest into the Archive of St. Thermis. An armoured figure, wielding a polearm of some kind, wreathed in shadow, who appeared and then vanished.” Ris showed the scroll he was reading about to the Lady Utomos. “It reminded me of a description that I’ve heard off -and apparently, another warrior of such a form has been noted before in the annals of Strovia, many years ago. And similar has been spoken off…in other lands.”
“Interesting.” The Lady Utomos noted. “But why search this topic?”
“Ah, because…” Ris hesitated, unsure if the topic was worth bringing up. "Have you heard of the Mate Outsider?"
"I've heard the rumors. A man that the Uiatachians have summoned from lands beyond.:
"That would be the one, my Lady.”
“Aye. I brought him to the Archive of St Thermis to find Vrize’s…work, and when he was attacked, this armoured figure…suddenly came to the Outsider’s aid, saving him from the Kanssari, healing his wounds, before abruptly leaving.”
"Interesting.” The Lady Utomos folded her legs and look askance at Ris. “Are you sure those Uiatachians have not summoned some sort of sorcerous monster in human skin?
"Nay, I have done many charms, I do not believe he is some sort of denizen from the Nirvach." Ris held out two fingers, drawing a circle and crossing it twice. “He is just a man, if anything he seems like just some ordinary foreigner - although his mannerisms are interesting to say to least.”
“Hmmm.” the Lady Utomos unfolded her legs, looking straight back at Ris. “Then - enough about him - what about this armoured person, you say?
“As I believe…” Ris sighed. “I must admit, this is merely a hunch by me. But that such a person, with a history in Strovia, and in other lands…has reappeared, at the side of the Crystal Court’s most mysterious guest…I felt it was cause for concern.
“I see.”
The Lady Utomos stood up again, thinking. “I suppose we should start to seek out this Outsider…and try to learn more about him, and the land he has come from.” She snapped her fingers once. “Lets…try not to care about that armoured figure so much as we will be rather busy over these recent events…unless they reappear again, Custodian.”
“Understood.”
“And…keep in contact with that Outsider.” the Lady Utomos rose from her seat. “If the rumors are true…a partnership with that man would be of some benefit.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“Is there anything else?”
Custodian Ris looked at his master, taking the opportunity to look her over, as he stepped from behind the table. “Nothing…though, I would like to know how you have been doing…Ylisdri.”
The Lady Utomos’s expression turned into a soft smile, a measure of innocence returning to her face.
“Its been long since we met, but…I’ve been…busy, Teacher. Though I’m afraid that I’m lacking the time to describe my experiences.”
“Its fine. I understand…your responsibilities you now carry are more important-”
Suddenly, the Lady stepped towards him quickly. Before he knew, the young woman he once tutored and raised was hugging him, gripping him tightly as she thrust herself into his embrace.
“I’ve missed you so much.” she whispered into the Custodian’s ear. “Its been…” her voice trailed away, an edge of exhaustion in it.
Ris was slow to react, only returning the hug after a moment, patting the Lady Utomos carefully on the back. They remained in their embrace for a bit longer, before Ris finally, gently, took the Lady Utomos’s shoulders, and pushed her away from her.
With no small amount of reluctance, Ylisdri finally let go. The aura of command had disappeared from the Lady Utomos’s self, leaving a young, vulnerable heir desperately clutching at the remains of her forbears.
“My lady. This is but the first of many other trials you will face.”
“I know…but…”
“There are some burdens I cannot you of, sadly.” The Custodian reminded, all too gently. “But as with all things…I will remain here, until the day Skoras-Driel claims me for his own. Should you find yourself alone…know that I am here, with you in flesh and spirit. Take that, and turn it into courage for the days ahead.”
“I…I understand.” The Lady Utomos pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, cleaning her face with it. Slowly, the mask of command returned to her face, as she returned into her role.
“If you must rest, my Lady, you can spend the night in the Catechy-”
“No, no, its…I’m afraid I won’t be able, you see. Time is of the essence.”
With duty-driven willpower, the Lady Utomos turned around, heading for the door. Just as she was about to leave, her hand froze against the wooden frame.
“Good night, Custodian.” she whispered.
“Good night, my Lady. May Findriel continue to light your path.”
With nothing else to say, the Lady Utomos left the room, and the door closed behind her with a quiet snap.
Alone, the Custodian touched his forehead and then his lips. Dispelling any trace of arcanum from himself, he whispered a prayer, backed solely by faith.
“Oh Great Diktat, forgive us for thrusting our burdens onto your child…"
==|==
The Drakenlyrd and the Lyrdvar
Out somewhere in the western parts of Straskey, in the space between civilization, a lone campfire burned beside a gravel road, the last vestiges of its flame flickering in the dark, under the light of the brother moons.
Beside it, two men rested, their travelling cloaks over their bodies. One of them lay down in the grass, sleeping, while his partner stared towards the road, humming a quiet tune as he watched over their surroundings - and he and his partner’s caravan of goods, which was parked just to the side of the road.
He yawned, trying to stave off the spectre of sleep, and stretched. But as he did, he spotted an approaching figure. As it got closer, the light from the fire finally began to illuminate it, revealing another traveller on the road.
“My dear fellow, might I join you and your fire?”
“Why?” The travelling merchant asked, while quietly slipping one arm behind his cloak, onto the handle of his own shortsword While thieves weren’t common in these parts of Straskey, it never hurt to exercise any caution.
“I am Qzerita, and I come in peace and curiosity, and I offer drink - and a meal.”
The visitor poured out a cup from the canteen, and drank, performing a rite that all travellers recognized. Watching her for a few moments, seeing no change in her expression - and checking his caravan a final time - the merchant relaxed his grip on his weapon and pushed himself off the ground.
“I welcome you, then.” The merchant opened his arms, opening his cloak in a way that showed all the items on his person.
The newcomer nodded in respect, and approached as the merchant pulled a log from a pile beside him and tossed it into the fire. As the light grew in intensity again, the newcomer’s features came into greater contrast - a weathered yet well-tailored white and red tunic overlaid her toned and attractive shape. As the merchant satisfied his eyes with such a beautiful sight, he noticed a pair of characteristic pointed ears poking out of her hair.
“Ah, an Elzen traveller. We haven’t seen one of your kind in many findrielpulz.”
“You have sharp eyes…merchant…?”
“Call me Heredius, please.”
As the Elzen settled in front of the fire, Heredius’s partner began to stir at her presence. “Who’s ther-” he groaned.
“We have a guest, Baloch. She’s an Elzen.”
“Hmmm?” Quickly turning over, the second merchant sat up with practised haste. “Wrifen-Driel’s light…how did an Elzen suddenly come across us on the road?”
“I saw a fire and I thought to stop, to meet fellow travellers on the road.”
“Really? Hey, Heredius, you sure about this person?”
“She drank her offering after she proffered it, so I’m very sure she means well.”
“Ah.” hearing what Heredius said, the other merchant relaxed. “I welcome you to our fire, then.”
“Thank you for the grace, fellow traveller.” The Elzen, for her part, continued her courtesies as the guest, placing her canteen and a sack beside the fire. Out of the sack, she took out a large loaf of bread, and with it a few large cheeses, and carefully laid them on the sack itself. Lastly, she pulled a knife from a pouch near her belt, and placed it beside the cheeses. “Please, partake in my offering.”
“Thank you.” Both men added, placing their hands together in the universal expression of graciousness. “It's been a while since we stopped, so we thank you for your gift of supper.”
Silence reigned, as the grateful hosts helped them with the first slice of cheese and bread.
“Are the both of you travelling to Orismuth?” The Elzen asked as Baloch returned her sack to her. “I see that you two are with a loaded caravan - and I smell the hint of spice.”
In between bites, Heredius nodded. Finally swallowing, he continued, “Yes indeed, our caravan is indeed full of cauisfa from the hills of Cauis, although we do have a few extras such as the assorted fruits from the local villages.”
“Merchants of Straskey, then?”
“Not just Straskey, but the entirety of the realm, and then some,” Baloch said, taking a swig from his canteen. “We’ve crossed into Nictorian and Morish lands several times too, the only place we haven’t had a chance to head to would be anywhere across the Wlazedian Sea…but that’s because Heredius gets seasick easily.”
“Well, Baloch here gets homesick all the time and worse still, has a pining for Elzen.” Heredius coughed. “So please beware him, fair lady, he longs for the touch of your kind once more ever since his old girlfriend in Plimsveri left him, and he constantly wishes to return to woo another.”
“Nonsense, Heredius.”
“Says the man who went missing for a week straight and missed our deadline?”
“Bah.” With no answer, the man went quiet, his eyes shifting back to their guest.
“I see, I see.” The Elzen commented, demurely listening to their story. “So you are both fully travelling merchants with no attachment or house?”
“Yes. Heredius here is - was - the thirdson of a house, and I’m the secondson of some petty noble.” Baloch replied. “All our fathers’ left us were mere handfuls of gold or family trinkets, so when we met we pooled our things together and bought our caravan.”
“I haven’t met my brother for a long time.” Heredius added, a thought coming to him. “Actually, come to think of it, as an Elzen traveller you might have met him. Have you heard of the Aqueros of ?
“I’m afraid you are mistaken.” A wry smile came to Qzerita’s face. “I’m Elzen, but I am not a denizen of Plimsveri, or of your lands.”
“Then…wait, where’s your steed-”
Before he could finish his sentence, a great shadow danced over him; the merchant made nary a yell before a gust of passing wind swept over him, causing him to cower beneath his cloak.
“Wrifen-Driel’s grace! What was tha-”
He looked up, and gasped.
Behind Qzerita, where there was once an open view of the road, was now taken up by a massive beast. A leering, winged beast now loomed over the Elzen, two massive wings outstretched from its back covering the entire campsite. Its four legs were as thick as logs, and the beast’s grinning head sat at the end of a long neck.
Under the moons-light, with the fire radiating off its silvery scales, the reptilian drake radiated a beastial grandeur that struck utter fear fear into the two Straskians.
“Your arcanus was mixed with those of others, so I came down here to check, Qzerita.”
“Look what you’ve done; now you’ve gone and scared these two perfectly fine men.”
And in the strangest sight that Heredius had seen in all his time across Hristomver, the drakenlyrd crept closer to the Elzen - and the Elzen touched its neck, as gently as a woman would touch a lover.
“My most sincere apologies, Heredius and Baloch. This is my companion - the esteemed Wix’vas’rivets.”
“Ah, fellow travellers.” The drake bowed its head, trying to mimic the apologetic nods of his rider. “A pleasure to meet you both on the road.”
The two men stared up at them both, before Baloch suddenly stuttered, pointing up at them both. “Wait…a drakenlyrd and an Elzen - that means you must be from the Rhaesvestian Skyfront-” He yelled, with equal parts terror and wonder. “The Lyrdvar of legen-”
The merchant began to prostate, only for Qzarita to hold her hands up, stopping him.
“We are far away from home and we do not wish to be burdened with titles and deferments - over here in Strovia we are just two lone partners in a foreign land.”
“It is as she said.” Wix’vas’rivets added, in his own careful yet bombastic tenor, the Strovian from his jaws ringed with a heavy accent.. “Please, consider me just another weary traveller on the road, even if I do not look the part.”
Despite the humility of both Rhaesvestians, the awe-inspiring look of the dragon above folding his wings and tucking them juxtaposed against the civility and gentlemaness of the beast and his consideration for his partner, simply took the breath of the two merchants away.
“I’m sorry…Its…its an honor to see a drakenfyrd in the flesh.” Baloch recovered, “Forgive me if I’m gaping too much.”
“It is something Wix has to face each time he reveals himself, so he’s used to it.” Qzerita spoke, gently caressing her partner’s neck. “But please recover quickly, we still have much to ask of you two merchants."
"We are just mere merchants, not nobles…"
"But you were nobles, and now well-travelled ones." Qzerita added. "You two must know the lands more than most; I'm certain we could trade information for information, or at the very least, this meal."
"Ah…thank you for your confidence in us, then."
"You are welcome."
At this point, Wix’vas’rivets nudged Qzerita. She turned to the her partner, and the pair exchanged words in their own language for a few brief moments. Even in the darkness, Heredius could see the Elzen nod sadly.
“Is there something wrong?” Baloch asked.
“Unfortunately, against my will, we have to attend to some matters, so the both of us will have to take our leave.”
“Eh?” Baloch continued, confused. “What business do you have in the wilderness, all in the dead of night? Surely you can stay with us for a little longer, Ly-, ah, honored guests.”
“Something that is rather urgent, I’m afraid.” Qzerita said, solemnly.
“Ah…that’s disappointing.” Both merchants simply sat down in front of their fire again. “That’s a shame.”
“It may not be.” Wix’vas’rivets spoke, his head turning towards the merchants’ caravan “I assume you are headed for Straskey’s capital?”
“We are, honored one.” Heredius replied.
“That too is our final destination.” The drake snorted, sniffing the air. “I daresay that we will meet again in that city.”
“Really?”
“Let’s make it so.” Qzerita walked up to her companion, carefully touching her companion’s flank - and Heredius realized that she was pulling something from a netting wrapped around the drakenlyrd, which held a previously unseen set of chests and baggage. “When the Twin Moons are both bright again, we will be in Orismuth. When that day comes,” she laid a scroll beside Baloch, “Open the scroll, and I will know where the both of you are. And, fate willing, we will find you both.”
“What, you can get a drakenlyrd into Orismuth?” Heredius and Baloch looked at each other with confusion. “I don’t think the King will be very happy with that…”
“We have our ways,” Qzerita simply smiled, not revealing anything as she walked up to them both. “But if the Greatlord wills, it will be done.”
She proffered the scroll to Baloch, who gently
“A safe journey to you both, fellow travellers. Please keep the cheese and the tea; call it compensation for us rudely disturbing your night.”
Qzerita finally mounted, and both dragon and rider stared into the sky, the former readying his wings. Along the bones of those wings, they began to glow, and both merchants could feel something like the wind gather, coalscening around them both.
Finally, with one tremendous flap, the dragon launched himself into the skies, leaving nothing but the quivering grass and trees and the whinnying of Heredius' horse.