When they drew within sight of the estate, they could see a large group of people milling about the entrance. More than twenty horses were being wrangled together as the group unloaded their gear and handed them off to Rā’imu’s servants. Fluttering in the gentle winds off Mt. Qaitz, a pennant displaying the same symbol as on the letter was held by one of the guards. His heart sank. The royal emissary.
“I thought you said he was coming in a couple of days.” He growled at the Djinn, as Ihra looked on in confusion, having missed their earlier conversation.
Rā’imu shrugged. “That’s what the letter said. Obviously, they arrived ahead of schedule.”
For a brief second, Jasper was tempted to spur Dapplegrim into a gallop and race off into the wilds. But he dismissed the idea as soon as it arose. Even if he could escape the royal emissary for a moment, there was only one exit from the Harei Miqlat; there was really no possibility of escape if they were determined to meet him.
As they rode up to the gate, a few of the servants helping the royal party split off to usher their lord inside. The Djinn in the royal livery stared at him as they passed, and Jasper took the opportunity to study them. All of the horses were covered in thin plates of armor that protected their chests, heads, and necks. The armor was made from an amber-toned material that appeared to be some form of carapace rather than metal and gleamed brightly in the sun. Long lances were attached on the right side of the horses, while on the left, bows and quivers dangled from the ornate saddles.
The warriors were clad in armor made from the same carapace material, sabers swaying at their sides. They walked with the confident, jaded stride of experience and met his gaze with a friendly but unabashed curiosity. No, Jasper concluded, running is not an option.
Ihra rode up beside him, poking him in the ribs.“What the hell is going on? Who are these people?”She hissed, under her breath.
Wordlessly, he handed her the letter, which she quickly scanned. “Huh? You're not a-”
Jasper shook his head, shooting her a look that practically begged her to stay silent. She picked up the hints; biting her words off, Ihra handed the letter back to him without further comment.
When they reached the main building, they found the royal emissary had already taken up residence in Rā’imu’s hall. The estate's servants intercepted their lord at the entrance apologetically, refusing him entrance into his own hall.
“Lord Rā’imu, the king’s emissary is waiting in the grand hall to meet with Lord Jasper. He wants to meet in private.” The servant, a pudgy, balding man was positively dripping with sweat as he turned the lord away from his quarters. Rā’imu frowned, his face darkening like a thundercloud, but he nodded tightly; Rā'imu knew his place, even if it left a bitter taste on his tongue.
The servant turned to Jasper, bowing deeply. “Lord S̆arrābī will see you now.”
The large wooden door to the hall creaked open slowly, opening just enough to let him slip in before it slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed down the empty, pillared corridor, as Jasper’s eyes struggled to adjust from the bright sunlight of the day to the dim darkness of the hall.
A man sat on Rā’imu’s throne, thumbing through the piles of documents that were scattered all around him.
Jasper walked toward the emissary slowly, his eyes drinking in the details. Like himself, the lord’s skin was red though it was not the pale red he possessed, nor even the bright, ruby red that Nabul had sported. Instead, the lord's skin was a dark, almost rusty, shade that reminded Jasper of dried blood. His thick black horns flared back with a gentle curve and his long black hair was tied neatly behind his ears. He wore a deep emerald-colored tunic that had the royal emblem - a forest consumed with flames - emblazoned across the front.
To Jasper’s surprise, when the Djinn looked up at his approach, a smile spread across his face. Tossing the papers to the side, the lord rose from the throne and swept Jasper into a hug. “How good to see you, nephew.”
Jasper froze as the Djinn thumped his back enthusiastically, his mind reeling. I don’t know this guy. Do I?
His thoughts were restored when the Djinn whispered in his ear. “Play along until I finish casting this spell.”
Awkwardly, Jasper hugged the Djinn back. “It’s good to see you too.”
A second later, the man released him, dropping a charm on the floor. When the charm hit the floor, a bubble burst up around them, quickly expanding to fill the room. Then he turned to face Jasper.
“It should be safe to speak freely now. I take it you read my letter.” His voice was clipped - brusque and professional without crossing the line into unfriendly.
Jasper nodded, drawing the letter out of his pocket. “I read it - can’t say I really understood what I read - but I read it.”
The Djinn’s expression was unreadable. “I’m sure you have many questions, and I will answer them. But first, tell me what you think is happening.”
“Why?” He blurted out, not thinking, before hastily adding, “Why do you want to know, my lord?”
The Djinn frowned, “Consider it a test. If I'm working with a dolt, I’ll have to adjust my plans accordingly. On the other hand, if you show some signs of intelligence, that opens up my options.”
Jasper hesitated, his mind quickly running through the details. The letter had addressed him as if he was part of the royal house, seemingly - if Rā’imu had understood it - an unacknowledged bastard on the cusp of being promoted. He knew too, from Tsia’s story of interrogating the guard at Kār-Kuppû, that at least some rumors had associated him and Ihra with the royal family.
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The real question, though, was why the royal family would want to claim him. Unless…. As he opened his mouth to speak, he noticed the ring the Djinn lord was wearing. It was a gold ring with a black onyx gem - a gem inscribed with the symbol of the cult of Nahrēmah.
He spoke slowly, still assembling his thoughts. “After the unfortunate events in Kār-Kuppû, rumors started to circulate that I was somehow connected to the royal house.”
The lord nodded. “And why would they make that assumption?”
Jasper winced. “Probably because of my partner, Ihra. I don’t know that much about your internal politics, but my understanding is that there are really only two factions of Djinn known for associating with elves - the Moon-kissed and the Royal House. Since we were in conflict with one of the Moon-kissed houses, people assumed I must be connected to your faction. Plus,” he added, “my red skin also suggested that I wasn’t associated with the Moon-kissed.”
The lord’s face gave away nothing, but he gestured for Jasper to continue.
“As I said, I don’t know much about your politics, but one of the few things I picked up from Nabul is that there is a good deal of tension between the North and the South over opening up the border to the rest of the empire. Perhaps, once rumors started that the Zaphonites and Moon-kissed had attacked a member of the royal house, you saw an opportunity to apply some pressure.”
“I also noticed you’re wearing a ring from the cult of Nahrēmah, so it’s possible that there’s some other angle here too - maybe Kas̆dael sent you to help me, or maybe you’re connected to the cult of the dark goddess and are here to kill me.”
He lapsed into an awkward silence, doing his best not to squirm beneath the Djinn's piercing gaze.
After a long moment of silence, S̆arrābī snorted. “Passable. Barely. However, you clearly know very little about our culture and politics, so your mistakes are forgivable. I suppose Kas̆dael was not wrong to suggest you would prove useful.” The lord removed the ring from his hand and tossed it at Jasper. “The ring is for you - it will mark you as a legacy applicant and make your quest for Kas̆dael a little easier.”
Jasper slipped the ring onto his finger. “It isn’t yours?”
The Djinn shook his head. “No, but it belonged to your new mother.” He bent down and picked up one of the files, holding it out to Jasper. “Welcome to the family.”
Jasper perused the file quickly. His mother was Princess Da’iqta who, some forty years earlier, had a fling with a low-ranked noble of the Seraph faction and gotten pregnant. It had been a minor scandal at the time, although it had largely died down when it was announced that both the mother and the child had died at birth. The father had died in battle a short time later.
According to the file, the child had actually survived and been raised as a member of the household, serving in the royal guard until recently, when he had successfully completed a mission for the House, earning acknowledgment as a reward for his service.
Stuffing the file into his bag, he looked up to find the Djinn watching him intently. “So what exactly is it you want me to do? I understand that claiming me allows you to put political pressure on the Zaphonites but, then what? Are you going to use me for a little while and then have me ‘die’ in battle.”
The Djinn grinned, exposing his jet-black teeth. “Yes, I made sure that bastard got what was coming to him after he dared to seduce my sister. But for you, as long as you prove competent, I have long-term plans.”
Jasper raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
Lord S̆arrābī settled back on the throne. “Indeed. Although the Royal House cannot be seen bending to the pressure of the Zaphonites and their ever-unreliable allies, the Moon-kissed, we are not blind to the events outside our hallowed mountains. The position of our House has always been that the Harei Miqlat are in the Empire not of it.”
“But it is the Empire - not Dūr-S̆innu, for all its strength - that is the true shield of our lands. We aided the empire in the Desolyton and we eventually provided aid in the Fey wars." His face darkened, a flicker of shame flitting through his eyes. "Perhaps if the Djinn had intervened sooner, the Fey wars would not have escalated to such a devastating extent. The king cannot fix the mistakes of the past, but he does not intend to repeat them.”
“The Royal House is gathering troops even now to send to the aid of the empire. The emperor, as you may know, is preparing a campaign to take back the capital, but I believe their plans will fail unless we or the elves help them. And if you, in the coming months, prove your worth to the House, then you too will accompany them as a duly acknowledge scion of our House.”
The lord met Jasper’s eyes, sincerity blossoming in their depths. “Play your part well, Yas̆peh, and you truly will become one of us.”
Jasper sat in stunned silence, his mind whirling at the implications. The Royal House? Getting sent to the war? Did he even want those things? And lurking in the background, another question lingered. Do I really have a choice?
If S̆arrābī noticed Jasper's doubts, he paid no attention to them. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Jasper, turning his attention back to his stack of documents. “You can go now, Yas̆peh - we’ll talk more later.”The Djinn glanced up, his voice growing deeper as he caught Jasper’s eyes. “I’m sure I can count on your discretion.”
But Jasper didn’t turn to leave. Instead, he positioned himself before the Djinn, demanding his attention. “Lord S̆arrābī, even if I agree to play the part you have in mind - and I have not yet agreed - there are quests of my own I wish to fulfill.”
The Djinn looked up impatiently. “Yes, yes - I know Kas̆dael may assign quests to you from time to time. Who are we to stand in the way of gods? Your quests for Kas̆dael will of course be accommodated. Now, go!”
Jasper shook his head, stiffening his resolve. “That’s not what I meant.” His mind immediately went to thoughts of his ascension quest and the trial to change Ihra’s class. “I have goals of my own to complete. I’m willing to help you, but as a partner, not a servant.”
The Djinn’s eyes darkened, boring into Jasper with an almost physical weight. But Jasper held firm, meeting the lord’s gaze with steady eyes.
Finally, S̆arrabī spoke. “What are these goals?”
Jasper hesitated. Do I tell him about the ascension quest? He dismissed the idea immediately; he'd need to know S̆arrābī much better before trusting him with that. Instead, he filled him in on the glaive’s quest and the information about the trial for Ihra that Lord Arutû had given them.
After a long moment of silence, the Djinn lord nodded. “Fine - you can do these quests. I may even be able to help you with the first one. I am not personally familiar with this Lord Jakaryus, but I’m sure with a few subtle inquiries I can track him down for you. As for the second…” The Djinn sighed.
“Your friend’s abilities are really not my concern, but if you insist on chaining yourself to her, I suppose it’s for the best if she receives an upgraded class, otherwise she’ll be simply a millstone around your neck. The trip from here to the capital takes about three weeks if you charter a vessel at Qarānu.”
He paused, humming thoughtfully beneath his breath. “I’ll give you two months to join me in the capital. And if you’re not there, well,” an amused grin graced the Djinn’s face “as you know, there’s only one exit from these mountains. If you try to run, you will merely meet me in Dūr-S̆innu instead of the capital and I promise, I will be in a much worse mood then.”