It was a pleasing day as the cool, winter air breezed through the freshly fallen snow-covered streets of the Capital City. King Ithilien, flanked by Faelar, walked through the cobblestone paths as he admired the weather and buildings that contained the huddled masses, who sought the embrace of their hearths or the company of others under the influence of alcohol and warm food.
"My King, might I ask what we are searching for in these streets?" Faelar asked him, curious about his liege's interests. "A gift, Faelar. I had promised my daughter I would bring something of value, and I intend not to disappoint her." Ithilien replied as he continued his search. I must not waste this opportunity, Ithilien thought as the Ranger-General studied his king's expression. "I see. I will lend my aid then. Please excuse me, I'll scout ahead." Without another word, an invigorated Faelar ran past the king and immediately looked for any living soul that sold valuables that could be a worthy gift for a princess.
"Faelar, wait-" he reached out, but Ithilien's words faded away as the Ranger-General of Mistveil Forest had already immersed himself, and was already out of earshot. "Always eager to please." The king sighed as he let out a smile and continued to stroll past the streets, and admire the crystal clear snowflakes which fell from the sky. Citadel children who were creating figures out of masses of snow stopped in their tracks after they caught a glimpse of the elven king, clothed in his bright, silver clothing. Ithilien decided to stop and make their day brighter. With a flick of his hand, the lumps of snow transformed into castles and miniature figurines. Gasps of awe and cheers rang out from their mouths as their eyes glistened with joy at the sight of elven magic. The spectacle warmed the king's heart as he sat down in the snow alongside a few children. He entertained them with the wonders of the woodland realm, stories of creatures big and small, and tales of great warriors he knew or fought with.
"Wow! How old are you, mister?" A child exclaimed. "How are you able to do that?" A girl sat beside him asked as well after seeing the magical snowmen. "Why do your ears look funny? And why are your eyes silver?" Another chimed in to Ithilien's delight. "Behave young ones! I can only handle such energy at a time." Such spirited souls, Ithilien thought. He laughed along with the children as he cast another illusory spell. Meanwhile, two hooded figures approached the group.
"Off you go now, young ones. We have some matters to discuss with the king." One of them said. "You're a king?" The children gasped in awe as they then clung to Ithilien. "No! We like having him around. Look at what he made for us!" They all pointed at the miniature figurines that came to life and waddled around in the cold, stone ground. "We're not afraid of you, you know!" A child in front shouted.
The two hooded figures stood in silence. "It would be better if you removed your hoods, good sir, and of course, my lady. They seem to be ready to defend me." Ithilien said to the two as a brief silence followed, interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from one of the strangers.
"I'm sorry--I couldn't hold it in." One of them said as the hooded figure lifted his veil to reveal none other than Chamuel, the Peacekeeper. "Apologies, sister. The child reminded me so much of myself back then. It's admirable. You have a bright future, young one. So pure, so brave. Faced even with the unknown you stood undeterred. You'd make a fine member of the royal guard." He said as the children's eyes shined after they saw a member of the Seven.
"Lord Chamuel!" They excitedly called out his name. "We didn't know it was you!"
"Apologies, King Ithilien," the other one said as they removed their hood to reveal raven-black hair whose color contrasted the white snow. Ithilien recognized her immediately as Azrael, the Vassal of Death. "We were only having fun. Guard duty is quite tiresome. Spending the winter huddled up in stone walls saps the life out of you, so we decided to roam the city for a change. It's beautiful down here." Azrael said as she inserted her hands into the customized pockets of her ivory-colored armor. "Quite cold too, if I'm being honest."
"Lady Azrael as well! Two members of the Seven are here!" One of the children exclaimed to the excitement of his peers.
"May we have a word with you over some food, your Majesty?" Azrael asked. "Of course. Run along now, young ones. Do not worry, the miniatures will last until winter's end. Take care of them for me, will you?" Ithilien requested the children, who agreed without hesitation. "You can count on us, sir--your Majesty! Do come back!" The boy said to Ithilien. The two royal guards waved goodbye to the group and left the scene. Ithilien followed suit, but was stopped in his tracks as he felt a presence behind him. "Wait! Before you go, please, take this--as a reminder of your promise." A girl suddenly approached the king as she handed Ithilien a simple wooden carving of a dove, fashioned as a necklace. "Dear child, I couldn't," Ithilien replied, but the child's eyes had a spark of innocence and sincerity, which reminded him of his daughter. "All right, if you insist." He said as he accepted the gift with a smile. The child seemingly wandered off into a corner and the king left and caught up with the siblings.
The three walked into the city's market which held an annual food festival that surprisingly, remained active despite the cold weather. Ithilien was surprised to see that the vendors and people were unaffected by the climate and even offered a variety of hot meals such as soup or meats to warm the stomach. Azrael directed them to sit at an unoccupied table for four as she searched for something for them to eat.
"Such freedom and joy," the king said as he and Chamuel observed the gathered friends and families. "I envy your kind. In my kingdom, they only view our family as royalty, and never as equals. Despite belonging to the same race, there is an indescribable gap that separates me and my people. Earlier, the children never saw me as anything other than a friend." The king continued as Azrael returned with a platter of warm food and beverages to wash them down.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with two members of the Seven?" Ithilien asked as Azrael handed him hot soup to stave off the cold. "The pleasure is all ours, your Majesty. We simply thought that as your new guardians, it would be best to get to know our you a bit more since we've only ever heard of you from tales and history books." Azrael said.
"Guardians?" Ithilien replied, surprised at the news.
"Yes, it sounds stupid, I know. But the captain insisted that members of the Seven would be assigned to a monarch of one of the allied kingdoms. Given the unpredictable state Primera is in, we were tasked to observe and protect you from any potential threats. Uriel is leading the expedition north to the dwarves. Once he finds Lord Rykard and brings him here to the Capital, Uriel will immediately head back to the dwarves and stay for the time being as a bodyguard for Lords Sindras and Vargas." Azrael explained while Chamuel consumed a large portion of meat with ease.
"I see. His reasoning is understandable given the circumstances. I suppose the Ranger-General would enjoy the added company of two royal guards," Ithilien said as he slowly ate portions of the soup. "Well, you wanted to know more about me. Where should we start?"
And so as they drank and ate their fill, the king answered their questions and sated any curiosities they had. It did not take long before the Ranger-General returned, empty-handed.
"My apologies, your Majesty, but I was not able to--oh, I was not expecting company," Faelar said after seeing Chamuel and Azrael eating lunch with the elven king. "Ah, Faelar. Sit down and eat your share. Azrael here bought plenty for us four. They are my new bodyguards." Ithilien said. "Bodyguards?" Faelar replied with a tinge of disbelief, seemingly offended as well by the notion. "We mean no offense, Ranger-General, I'm sure you're capable enough to protect your king, but it was a direct order from the regent himself," Chamuel said, attempting to quell the elf's apparent disdain.
Faelar sat down beside his king. "Very well then, if His Majesty vouches for you, and if you had no control over the decision, then I might as well accept it," He said. "Apologies for my earlier behavior. I rarely leave the elven kingdom due to my duties, so diplomacy is not my strongest suit."
"No need to apologize. In truth, we feel slightly overwhelmed being your bodyguards." Azrael said. "Don't get us wrong, it is a great honor, but it is quite intimidating to watch over a king who has lived countless human lifetimes, and is also considered to be one of the best swordsmen and mana users in history. I fear our work may already be cut out for us." She continued.
"You flatter me too much, young one. All these years of peace I fear may have nulled my instincts. I welcome any aid that the Capital can offer us." Ithilien replied.
"We also asked for troops of our own, similar to Uriel, but Sir Byronard immediately turned down the request. I can't blame him though. The guards are small in number compared to the manpower of each Great House. With Uriel being given command of over one-sixth of the Royal Guard to bolster the North's defenses, along with three royal guards to accompany each head of a Great House, I'd say the ones who weren't pulled were tasked to fortify this place. Him saying that that two of us were enough to accompany you...did help in the process of getting over being rejected." Chamuel said.
The four of them continued to finish their meals and left the city market, satisfied. "If I may, your Majesty, the other lords and ladies have started to prepare for their journey back to their lands. Why is it that you've found yourself here in the city streets?" Azrael asked the elven king.
"I am in search of a gift. A memento that my daughter would appreciate. I promised here before I left with Godric and Faelar that I would bring something from the Capital." Ithilien said as he glanced at a corner and saw trinkets and ornaments being sold. There was a look of sadness on his face.
"My poor Anarórë. I blame myself for her situation. She has never been outside of our borders before. Her duty as a princess limits her from doing so. I was already aware that she joined the scouts in an attempt to travel outside our lands, but all she could ever do was glimpse the outside world as she patrolled the border. Like a bird trapped in a cage, she exists only to be locked inside, so close to freedom, and yet so far." Azrael and Chamuel looked at each other and agreed that felt like they had heard something private.
"I see...if it pleases you, your Majesty, we could help look for a gift," Chamuel said as Ithilien let out a smile. "Yes, I would appreciate that. Thank you." Azrael paused for a moment as if a thought had crossed her mind. "What is it?" Faelar asked.
"I think I have a few ideas on what to give. Follow me." Azrael said. Without a second thought, all three of them followed her steps. Several minutes later, they found themselves on the other side of the city, where the structures looked older than the ones they were in before. Ithilien and Faelar also noticed that the people who were there also wore different clothing from the ones that they encountered. Ragged, dark clothing, and accompanied with either a hood or scarf.
Faelar cautiously looked around and observed the stark difference between the city market and the ones that surrounded them. "What is this place?" He asked. "This is the Pallenia Quarter. It is named after the town that stood here during the time King Unrel decided to build the Keep that we see above." Azrael said as she pointed to Wolfsbane Keep, which towered over them up above the inland cliff. Faelar spotted several people in some corners whose eyes were focused on the elven king. "I have a bad feeling about this," Faelar said as he hovered his hand on his dagger concealed on his hip as a few of them slowly approached their direction.
"Calm down, Faelar. These people mean no harm." Ithilien stayed the Ranger-General's hand as a veiled elderly woman stopped in front of Azrael and Chamuel. "Oho...what brings you here?" She asked in a frail voice. "Hello, Mother Willow. It's been a long time." Azrael replied as she took the elderly woman's hand and planted a kiss on an emerald ring. Chamuel followed after her and stepped back. "It's nice to see you again, Mother Willow." He said as he turned to Ithilien and Faelar.
"Your Majesty, Faelar. This is Mother Willow; The headmistress of the Pallenia Orphanage and the leader of this part of the Capital." Azrael introduced the old woman, whose features were covered by a black veil. "So, this is King Ithilien, the ruler of Mistveil Forest? I've heard great tales about you. A pleasure to finally meet you in person. I knew that the monarchs were in the Capital, but in all my years, even now as I am nearing my end, I never expected to meet you here in all places." Mother Willow said.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mother Willow. I am sorry if I came unannounced, but Azrael said she could help us with something important, so we followed her here." Ithilien said to the woman, who sounded perplexed. "Oh? And what could that be?" She replied.
Azrael and Chamuel then explained the situation to the frail lady as concisely as they could, to which Mother Willow responded with a chuckle. "I see...well then, it would be my honor to bestow a gift to the elven princess. Come, we have much to do. Blaine? Would you come over here, dear?" She called out to someone in the crowd. A scarfed man then rushed to their location. "Blaine! How are you, these days?" Chamuel asked as they exchanged hugs. "As usual, still alive. Nice to see the two of you in good shape." Blaine responded as Mother Willow pinched his arm, causing Blaine to cry out in pain. "Now, now. We have guests to attend to. Please tell the priests to gather at the Strudstine." Mother Willow said as she let go of her vice-like grip. "Yes, Mother Willow. I'll see you later, guys." Blaine said as he disappeared into the crowd.
"May I ask what this...Strudstine is?" Ithilien asked Mother Willow. "The Strudstine, your Majesty, is a small chapel specializing in channeling a unique form of magic. When people born in the Pallania Quarter die, we store their memories in a marked object that is sealed inside the chapel. I intend to perform a ritual and allow your daughter to look into such memories. " Mother Willow explained.
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"But that sounds dangerous, does it not?" Faelar asked. "Oh yes, very dangerous. Tampering with the mind is an extremely delicate and complicated task. However, my magic helps me work around this danger. You see, I specialize in transferring anything from one vessel to another and the other way around. It could be memories, emotions, even the soul itself, which holds the very essence of one's magic." Mother Willow replied. "Astounding. But surely this takes a toll on your body?" Ithilien asked, concerned for the mortal's wellbeing. "Yes, it does. Each time I do it I feel a sliver of my life being sapped by the second. However, for some reason, the Divines have always granted me the strength to live. Each day is a blessing in itself. The reason why I called for the priests, is so that if ever my body decides to give up, I can then be given my last rites for I've lived far too long already." Mother Willow explained as Ithilien and Faelar looked at her, dumbfounded at the revelation.
"You cannot be serious. That is reckless!" Faelar cried out. "How long have you been doing this?" He asked. "Oh, about eighty years or so. I started young, you see. After I discovered my unique talent, I spent the rest of my days mastering my craft. It was a struggle, I won't lie." She then turned to the orphans that were huddled in the crowd. "But my talents proved useful as I was able to look into the minds of these young ones and understand their view of the world. Years of heartbreak and sadness have filled my heart, and their nightmares find themselves sneaking into my dreams. Despite all that, I still find joy in seeing a broken soul become whole again." Mother Willow said. Her words resonated with the elven king, whose immortality had deemed him to be cursed to witness an eternity of countless deaths and sacrifices.
"You are a genuine spirit with a heart of gold, Mother Willow. I have no words to express my immense respect for what you have done for these children. If more people like you existed, this world would be a better place." Ithilien said as he gently took the elderly woman's hand and planted a kiss on her ring, a sign of acknowledgment. "And what about you two? What are your thoughts about her actions?" The elven king asked Azrael and Chamuel, who stood in silence the entire time.
"We owe her everything, your Majesty. We were abandoned at a young age, forced to fend for ourselves, scraping for every little piece of food we could find in the wild. Mother Willow took us in and changed our lives forever. A thousand lifetimes would never be enough to repay what she has done to build us into who we are now." Chamuel said as he put his arm over the elderly woman, giving her a gentle hug.
"And yes...we know about the dangers that Mother Willow encounters when performing the ritual. But we are in no position to force her into not attempting it. She devoted herself willingly to this life, the same as us royal guards. If she dies doing her duty, then it would bring her nothing but honor as she passes into the loving embrace of the Mother." Azrael said. Ithilien and Faelar were bewildered and yet, impressed at the words uttered and beliefs that their human allies possessed. It was completely against their notions of eternity and stability.
Mother Willow let out a laugh. "What seems to be funny?" Azrael asked. "Oh, nothing. I just feel like your Majesty and his friend seem to be taken aback by my approach to dealing with life. Mortals only live once, so it might be best to make the most out of it while we can." Mother Willow replied. "I'll be leaving you for the meantime. I have to prepare for the ritual. It might take a while so please, feel free to look around first. Blaine will fetch you once we are ready." Mother Willow said as she left the scene.
"Humans are such curious creatures, are they not, Faelar?" Ithilien asked, impressed at the old woman's commitment. "Yes, they are indeed, your Majesty," Faelar replied. "Well then, since they're preparing for the ritual, why don't we take you on a tour around the Orphanage?" Chamuel asked the two elves, who accepted the offer with no hesitation.
The orphanage was found deeper in the quarter. It was separated from the other buildings as it was found in the center of a miniature forest, surrounded by snow-covered trees, flowers, and a cobblestone fountain whose waters had frozen solid from the cold. They entered the structure to reveal a well-designed wooden interior. The feeling of warmth embraced them as they entered, where they were met by children and people of different ages. Brief introductions were made, and the inhabitants left the four to themselves.
"This is where we grew up," Azrael said as she touched a wooden beam. "This place brings back memories," she sighed. "Ever since we were selected for the Guard, we would always find time to sneak into the Pallania Quarter and spend time with our new family. But once we were promoted to become members of the Seven, it became impossible to even step into the quarter, let alone enter the orphanage. Chamuel buried himself with diplomatic affairs, while I was assigned to investigate crimes across the land." She continued as they walked up the second floor of the building.
"It must have been hard for you two, being separated from your brother and this place?" Faelar asked as they continued their tour. "Words cannot describe. But over time, we were able to manage. Being a soldier and experiencing reality at a young age does that to you." Chamuel responded. "Our duties bring us to indescribable places, far more beautiful than this old place, but we will always consider this our home." He said. Soon after, the doors from the entrance swung open and a voice rang out.
"Azrael? Chamuel? Are you here?" Blaine called out. "We're here. Are they ready for us?" Chamuel replied while Blaine responded with a quiet nod. "They're waiting for you in the chapel. Let's go."
The chapel was small but upon closer inspection, was older than the already ancient architecture that surrounded it. Ithilien and the group were met by a small group of priests dressed in old, linen robes. "King Ithilien. It is an honor to meet you. Mother Willow is waiting inside." One of them said to the elven king. "Please, follow me." The man continued as he guided the group inside.
The interior was beautifully designed and was enough to host at least two dozen people. At the end of the building stood five shrines; decorated with golden statues of each member of the Divines, which was the faith that Primeran mortals believed in. First stood the Warrior, the symbol of strength and patron of soldiers and fathers. Next was the Smith, the icon of ingenuity and hard work that all artists and craftsmen prayed to. At the center was the Mother, the preserver of life and all things beautiful. Following them was the Gambler, the symbol of luck for thieves and mercenaries. And at the very last pedestal, covered in shadows, was the statue of the Stranger, the symbol of wanderlust and protector of adventurers, vagabonds, and lost souls. Ithilien sat down and took a moment to study the symbols of religion before him. It piqued his interest. Being a member of the firstborn, he experienced the privilege of seeing the conception of the world, back when the old gods still ruled over the lands and seas. How were these mortals able to conceptualize such beings? Do these gods even exist? Such thoughts plagued the elven king's mind before he was snapped back to reality.
"Your Majesty, Mother Willow is ready for you," Azrael said to the king as they approached the old woman, who knelt in front of two intricately designed boxes; with one being empty, while the other housed a glossy marble. Despite its shine and smoothness, Ithilien was unable to see any reflection whatsoever, as if a transparent wall had existed that played with one's vision.
"Am I correct to assume that this is the marked object?" The king asked Mother Willow, who replied with a nod. "A peculiar thing, isn't it? Its true name has been lost to the ages, along with the first residents of Pallenia, but nowadays we call it the Strudstine Marble. This small thing here houses every memory of every Pallenian that has ever lived," she said as she delicately picked up the marble with her old, frail hands. "Despite my age and numerous experiences with this one, it never ceases to amaze me." Mother Willow then put the object back into the box.
"How does the ritual work?" Faelar asked as the priests slowly gathered around the headmistress and knelt before the sculpture of the Mother.
"Mother Willow can look into the true essence of things and transfer them from one vessel to another. She'll enter and walk through all the memories stored in the marble." Azrael explained. "We know that Primera was a cruel land, and not all memories found inside are good, so she'll be careful to choose only the beautiful ones. Memories of festivals, celebrations, experiencing new things, seeing new sights--those are the ones she'll mainly look for." Mother Willow chuckled. "How nice of you to explain how it works, child. Now, I forgot to mention that we need a vessel with which I can transfer the memories. I'm sorry, meeting the king caught me off guard that in my haste, I forgot to mention the most important thing for the ritual." She said as Faelar let out a sigh. "Well, that complicates things, doesn't it?" He said as he paced around the chapel.
Ithilien stopped to think of a solution but felt a hard object as he grasped his hip. He looked and to his amusement, found the wooden necklace that one of the children gave him. Ithilien approached Mother Willow with the untied necklace and presented it to her. "Would this suffice?" He asked. "Oh! This would be more than enough. I see that Clementine made a new friend." She replied. "What a lovely name. I will have to give my thanks to her if I ever get the chance again." Mother Willow chuckled at the king's response.
"Did I say something funny?" Ithilien asked her. "Oh not at all, your Majesty. I simply thought that she would never be able to find someone she could confide in again. But, I do think that finding her again might be somewhat difficult." The king looked at her with a confused expression, meanwhile Mother Willow smiled at him before she sat down to begin the ritual.
"I'll be starting now. I swear to provide your daughter with the best present possible. I'll also try not to die in the process." She quipped. "That's not funny," Chamuel replied with an annoyed tone. "Oh hush now, child. You know I was joking." The old lady then placed the necklace on the empty box and hovered one hand over it, while the other hovered over the marble. She then chanted in a language unfamiliar to the people who were in the room, and her eyes then turned pale as her body froze in place. The priests began to chant the same words that Mother Willow spoke, and they too, followed in her steps.
"What now?" Faelar asked as he stood on guard, somewhat anxious by what he had witnessed. "Now...we wait," Azrael said. "This might take a while, so let's try and make ourselves comfortable..if we can." The chapel hummed with an intense sensation of mana that emanated from Mother Willow, who was as still as a statue. The king sat down and waited, but an unsettling feeling resided deep within him as the minutes passed.
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Nearly thirty minutes into the ritual, and a change was observed. The chants grew into shrieks, prompting Faelar to instinctively jump to a defensive stance, but was stopped by Azrael. "This is the most important part. Do not disturb her by any means." Her eyes were as sharp as a scythe's edge, and her words seeped into the Ranger-General's body, chilling his very core. "Understood." Faelar stayed his blade, surprised at the sudden bloodlust that seeped from the royal guard. Shrieks began to fill the room as the old woman began to rapidly convulse. The priests snapped out of their trance and began to utter a prayer. Chamuel and Azrael stood silent, undeterred by the events, as the elven king and Ranger-General looked disturbed. An intense burst of air then exploded from the marked object as Mother Willow collapsed, unconscious and drained from the process.
The royal guards rushed to her aid and removed the veil that covered her features, revealing streaks of a sickly, green color that ran down her neck. Ithilien approached her and cautiously held her hand. "She still lives." He breathed a sigh of relief. To repay her efforts, Ithilien drew magic from within and breathed new life in her which woke the old lady from her slumber. Slowly, Chamuel helped her sit down in a nearby pew as the king grabbed the wooden necklace and held it in his palm. It pulsated with a newfound energy, which was evidence that the ritual was a success. He stared deep into the carving's eyes, and true enough, the king was shown glimpses of cherished memories, and a feeling of happiness that he had long forgotten consumed his heart.
"Words cannot describe my gratitude to you, Mother Willow." The king said. "No..no..you have it all wrong, dear. I almost died back there. Had you not been here to heal my body, I would have passed on already." She replied in a weak voice. "I have done what I can. I've gone through every memory of each person, and have stored each treasured moment in there. I am sure this is a gift worthy of a princess of Mistveil." The priests then gathered around her, led by Blaine as they helped the old lady to her feet. "Mother Willow needs to rest now, your Majesty. We'll have to take her back to the Orphanage." Ithilien responded with an acknowledging nod. "Oh, your Majesty--" Mother Willow called out as she was being escorted. "Tell your daughter that she is always welcome here." Again, Ithilien pondered about her words. They were genuine, yet all the while mysterious in nature.
Azrael approached the two elves after saying goodbye to Blaine. "Your Majesty, you now have something to bring home. Where should we go next?" Ithilien stood in silence as he stared at the wooden necklace in his palm. "Let us find Godric," he said. "I wish to say a few words before we depart." The king stepped outside the chapel, greeted by the snow and cold weather as the Ranger-General and the siblings watched over him from behind. All seemed to be in good order in their eyes, but deep down inside him, Ithilien felt something tragic was looming over the horizon, something that even he, with all his power and influence, could have a very slim chance of stopping by his lonesome.