A handful of sand, yet warm from the Norapt sunlight’s quiet memories, falling out of his hands grain by grain and into the crashing seas, the tumultuous waves of a solid oak table deep within the court of Orroyel. A clock ticked on mechanically, memories of time ageless seconds, one after the other. An unbroken line of pale dust, gleaming in the sunlight as he waited. Sweeping, the wind-
The very words of change and that desire, that ever-pressing need to be more than he was. First to bring success to his nation, and then to save them. Through death, his plan, a sacrifice before the fickle will of a god who was not fickle….
Orange eyes, bright sky hopes- the powerful gleam of the moon from above the planet. The immensity of God- sand. Falling, crashing against memories of an immense stone, hallways running off into infinite darkness and two motes of light that had wrought such destruction. His plans- all that he knew, the hopes that Artic would remain placated.
The Eternity Falling would remain placated, the skies would bleed no more, and the blood of time itself would rejoin with the waters of what lay beyond the stars, beyond the burning memories of the sibilant who’d spent so long vying for Polarity Light and so little time amongst the humans. They were not human. From that space above the world, that intense forever, he didn’t feel human-
Slipping, into the room with the quiet creak of opening doors and soft footsteps and the promise of something interesting, Paquel entered into the room in cloths that, for an Orroyelan noblewoman, were practically rags- a single short dress that didn’t much inhibit her movement, probably with trousers underneath. It was a sign that she was coming for business more than anything.
It was a sign that she knew well enough that the flowery nature of court would do little to impress Laeo. He doubted she had a problem dressing in massive gowns to bend others to her will, though… “Tea? I’ve had some brought up…” Two servants entered the room, depositing trays covered in scrumptious foods and two cups of the finest Orroyelan tea. The stuff had made its way over from Nolabo to here, and they loved it even if they didn’t know how to make it properly. “So. What are you doing, Nola-who-is-Sakaxhy?”
“Nola. Sakaxhy. They’re both such broad terms. You can have a Royelean Nola who never even left the Royeleo in the time of the first Orryelan empire, and thus became Orroyelan. You can have a Nola, who, through the purity of bloodlines remains similar to the great fleet.” Laeo sipped from the tea, confident that Paquel wouldn’t poison him. There was too much to gain from him, too many complications. Two million xhyodaked, a power unrivaled by all but the wealthiests lords, empires-
In giving such a gift, he’d made himself a major player. He was in essence more of an ambassador to the court of Orroyel than the Sakaxhy ambassador was. “Some sort of ties to a weapon’s manufacturer? To the Sakaxhy’s emperor? I don’t quite get it…”
“What can I say? The Nola attacked me, and I hate them for it.” The Nola loved him, and he loved them in turn, but sometimes a little sacrifice was necessary. “I’ve been sent by the government in Ilaial to convince Orroyel to follow us into war with the Sakxhy.”
“I can say the war would be just recompense for Laytai-” Paquel scowled suddenly, setting down her tea and taking a vicious bite out of one of the biscuits. “I swear. You’re one of the best I’ve ever met… Cut the lies. I already know that you aren’t here on so simple of a mission. You want us to be involved in the war because it will bring power to the Sakaxhy empire- may I add- a longstanding rival of the Orroyelans. We haven’t had much of a quarrel with Nola recently.”
“They will come. The destruction…” He let the sentence trail off with horror, a genuine horror but the they was- sibilant. Polarity Arctic and the blood of sky, golden bright fire that would scour the earth and render it ash on the wind.
Paquel sipped her tea, eyes dark. Calculating. Thinking of how much she could do with him if he was lying and really that skilled at weaving a lie, had that much reach, or if he was a nobleman of the Sakaxhy who was everything he said he was. If the Sakaxhy really wanted an alliance with the Orroyelans. “You’re Sakaxhy, that’s obvious… and you want war. Whether or not you’re noble, whatever your methods it doesn't matter- it’s all to the same goal.”
“Close enough…” And as he said that, for all his attempts, he couldn’t quite get the words to be totally without pain. Couldn’t quite get it to be… calm, as the sands of the beach and the gentle waters of the vast seas under a bright blue sky.
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Black skies. Dark orange thrusters and the engines of the Eternity Falling, the power to shatter, moons. Planets, all for Polarity Light. Paquel was looking at him, trying to judge that slip and see where it fit into her theories of what he was… “The emperor is inviting you to a private audience. That’s what I was sent here to deliver.” She stood, dusting off her clothes from the little bit of sand and eying him with a glare that said she hoped their next conversation was far more enlightening. To her, of course, unspoken wishes within unspoken wishes…
The noblewoman of the Orroyleans drifted off into a hallway of shadows and light and possibility, sunlight streaming through the window and gleaming of a half empty teacup, a few biscuits and breads and foods and a small pile of sparkling sand, the shattered remnants of once-stone...
………
The imperial gardens of the court in Orroyel were one of the most magnificent places on the entirety of the planet, competing in splendor only with the Palace in Ilaial and the university in Abōeo, behind only the immensity of God and that silver blackness…
Sweeping stone promenades, vines that twirled and all the remembrance of jungle, culled and wrought into a form- the gardeners that were the smiths of a fine blade, slowly refining it until it became their desire and in doing so became the epitome, the trueness of jungle. It was a very Orroyelan attitude, to conquer the jungles and bring them into their will rather than existing alongside them.
They had the resources, of course, the empire that spanned most of Royeleo and some lands beyond, the successor to so much time. Servants ducked out of their way as they came, beneath the gentle awnings of colored cloth, black and red and black ad nauseum forever. The great colors of the Orroyel.
Their flags of war, wrestled into peacetime so that blood was never forgotten, except for when it was. The emperor of all this walked beside him, a frail, old man that probably wouldn’t survive a dedicated attack from him. One move, and he could throw the entirety of Orroyel into chaos and pave the way for the Nola to conquer it.
One move, and he could doom the entirety of all humanity-
“Scion of the Sakaxhy. You aren’t as old as I am. Do you remember the wars? I do not, but my grandfather's grandfather fought in them as the first of a greatness. I am the one that remains, and the last of them.” Heirless by birth, though the greatest of the nobles had been adopted as his heir and told to bring the nation into great fruit. He’d been a wise emperor- cultivating only good relations, growing the unity of his state.
He had been a great emperor. Laeo would have liked to say he’d destroyed greater things, but he’d never done anything on this level before. As far as he knew, nobody… there was no right. He repeated that in his head as he stepped up to the grand wall of the court, a beautiful first bastion fifty feet high and only the first of three. The court in Norapt was an entire city within a city, twice over. “The Nola are out for blood. It’s harder to understand them, with their insistence on councils and religion and things that make little sense, but whatever happens now their ruling factions are certainly looking for things to conquer. Things to destroy.”
“How so? Laytaihishu? I find it unlikely that they sent an army into the very heart of Xhyolok while an attack on Tasadir would do far better for them, and would be far cheaper.”
“There was an attack on Tasadir.” The emperor nodded slowly- this had to have still been news to him. The distances were so immense between their nations, months of travel- a day of travel, mere minutes through the darkness of space and deep blue, the black of sky and the eyes of stars. Orange eyes, propelling them through nothing and everything. “The Nola destroyed their palace, somehow.”
“I was astounded by that myself, too… it’s deeply concerning to me that they have such power, aside from the fleet.” He made no mention of the tears of sky, those twin orange dots that had fallen down and destroyed so much… the palace, his hopes and his allegiances and everything that wasn't awe and horror.
“The Nola are desperate. They will sabotage your government, end the unity, destroy your palaces and your forests and everything. You need to prevent them from bringing this weapon to Orroyel. At the very least, stop their next trading fleet.” It wouldn’t work. It was something that made no sense to demand, and the emperor’s expression clearly portrayed that. A trading fleet wasn’t… still the emperor nodded softly.
Fear did strange things to men. “The fleet will be stopped.” Cold eyes turned on him, then, cold eyes that bore the weight of age but could never bear as much weight as their burning, white-hot eyes of Polarity Arctic, the immense eyes of white and the great oranges of the Eternity Falling itself… “Beware of treachery. I will not tolerate traitors in my court.”
It was a shame he was one of those. Not against the Orroyel, but against the Nola themselves. The greatest among peers, the scion of Arctic’s desire and the will of so long… he watched the sails over the harbor of Norapt, and despaired for the bloodshed to come...