Masi Stares at the wooden door with awe and excitement. On one hand she is excited to go in, trembling at the thrilling possibilities beyond the door.
“What has Juniper May been working on behind those doors?” The young heir thinks to herself, contemplating various options in her mind, but the excitement is doubling over as fear. Fear of the unknown or perhaps fear of the known, for Aston Villa has always been known for its might, and magic was no exception in the northern prefecture.
“Could she be creating Snow goblins?” She begins to fear. “Or perhaps a winter pine Gollum?!” She almost faints at such a prospect. She then quickly hides behind the elderly Juniper May.
“Be still my child and feel no dread or worry.” Comforts the smiling Juniper May. “For behind these doors lie, not just your future, but the future of all the four districts in the land!” Juniper May says with a gleam of hope and passion in her eyes.
“Come hold my hand and stay close!” Juniper says with elation in her voice. She pulls back on the iron handle, and the heavy door opens with a mighty creek. As the door opens a bitter cold assaults the duo, before quickly subsiding, as Masi rubs her eyes she sees workers in white leather aprons wearing safety spectacles, and leather gloves laced with chain mill.
“Here my dear is where the guardians are born.” She says smiling and brimming to the core with confidence in what was to be her life’s work, and the kingdom's best innovation. “I believe it is time for a history lesson, my little hazelnut.” Juniper May says with a cheerful grin, as she looks at the timid princess.
Meanwhile, political figures from across the land enter the foyer of the crystal palace. The Head Maiden of the house named Aluma, who is silent in her speech but deliberate in her actions, guides the men from the foyer, to the western most meeting room. Beyond the Amethyst doors was a Large circular table, made from Howlite and Jasper. Upon entering the room several of the royal maids seated each guest and set a plate before them, on each plate was etched the Aston Villa coat of arms, the golden lion, the symbol of strength of the northern kingdom.
Upon looking at the plate Anjani-Ra current prime minister of the Blackburn region formerly named Bournemouth, grimaces in disdain for the king and Aston Villa prefecture. His Black fur is decorated with scarlet streaks, his face houses six whiskers three upon each side. His scarlet hair tied back in ponytail fashion, his golden eyes dart from the plate to the prime minister that sits across from him at the three-o'clock position, for Anjani-Ra sits at the nine o clock. The Khajiitian prime minister then sets his eyes upon the walls of the hall, the rubies and sapphire crystals have rainbow streaks dance around them as the sun begins to set for the evening. Between each window set a banner made from Olympic blue cloth and in the center of the banner was the golden Aston Villa lion, below the lion was the motto for the royal family. “Audere est Facere'' To dare is to do. A reflection of the defiance that the great kings before king Aimar had during the 100 years war, a sign of encouragement to the people, and future heirs to the throne.
Before the Blackburn prime minister could make any snarling remarks, a trumpet is heard sounding off at the twelve-o'clock position of the table. The one sounding the alarm was advisor to the king, a halfling named Jovon the second, son of Jovon the first advisor to King Aimar’s father during the 100 years war who perished at the hands of the Bournemouth revenant army. The small 122 centimeter halfling lowers his trumpet, and with the elf Aluma at his side he is prepared to announce the entry of Aimar.
“Presenting the King of the Four prefectures, the lion of Aston villa, King Aimar!” He projects his voice around the western hall, and all the guests stand in respect. The king wore his military uniform, which consisted of Olympic blue thread for the shirt, which was fastened by three shining brass buttons. The pants consisted of Burgundy fabric and featured a sunlight yellow line up the side of both pant legs. His shoes shone black and reflected the light from the palace giving it an awe inspiring shine.
Upon Aimar entering hall Aluma collects the weapons of all in attendance, when reaching Anjani-Ra, he hisses in protest.
“My arms stay with me girl!” He threatens with a snarl, bearing his white fangs at the maid.
“If you wish to battle, then perhaps you should have left a living will on your person, so that your litter may know how to handle your corpse proper.” The elf retorts, her eyes once a dull grey now burn a brilliant ruby. Though mousey in tone of voice, here energy can be felt down the hall. Before twisting the prime minister's wrist and he lets out a pained hiss.
“Aluma, my dear I believe the prime minister has received the message.” Says a tall slender wood elf. His warm ivory skin tone matches that of the king, his brunette hair falls to his shoulders and flows freely in the young maid’s energy. His ears are small but pointed, just like the king for he is the king's younger brother Lord Viscount first of his name. The elf standing at 182 centimeters, walks toward the maid and places a ringed hand upon her shoulder, and the maid sighs. The Blackburn prime minister is relieved of his main and side arms.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“What a way to begin the first meeting of the four prefectures.” Remarks a stout Argonian. The prime minister of the Hull city prefecture, his lavender scales compliment the porcelain scaled belly of the well-fed lizard. His eyes were wide open as he once sat slouched but now sitting upright in his chair.
“Never thought a tiny maid such as Aluma could threaten nevertheless challenge the great Anjani.” The Argonian comments toward Viscount.
“We'll never doubt a small package Meeius, especially an elf with nothing to lose.” Viscount says in reply adjusting shirt collar.
“Now then...” King Aimar begins. “Shall we get to business, the Jubilee is quickly nipping at our heels, and Aston Villa needs to know what each prefecture is going to offer, since the Aston villa will be the destination.” The king continues his hands folded together, his curly golden hair rests upon his shoulders, with his beard in compliance adding to his lion-like visage.
“Why should Blackburn contribute, every year it is the same dribble, we contribute to the peace of the nation yet our people starve, our economy is a shell of its former self, give me a reason why we should even care of such an event.” The Khajiitian prime minister speaks out in defiance.
“Now Anjani..” Viscount begins to speak before being slapped by the Khajiitian. Aluma stands up from her seat gazing deeply at the assailant.
“It is Anjani-RA” He speaks with venom in his tone “I earned my title and the trust of my people, and I know what my people need!” He continues looking at the maid, then turns his attention to the king.
“While you and your subjects, enjoy planning various festivals and parties, all in the name of peace, and give burnt offerings to your gods, while you sell and trade your woven garments, your purple gold, and silver.” Anjani-ra says with his fists clenched and Viscount being tended to by the maid with an ice spell to help reduce swelling.
“My people starve, my people catch The black lung while toiling in the mines and chimneys of the “Royals” of Hull city prefecture, our daughters prostitute themselves to the trader and the border guard of Hull city and of Tottenham!” Anjani-Ra bellows taking the royal china and throwing it toward the wall, shattering it to pieces and leaving a minor scratch on the crystal wall.
“Now Anjani-Ra, we know well of the troubles your people have faced since the end of the war, but we have services available to your people, we have open borders to those that need aid.” The King replies in a reassuring tone.
“To those that can afford it you mean, to those that have pre-war status, or those that have a brilliant mind only for it to benefit the North and the South prefectures...” He retorts with boiling resentment. “Why is it that Blackburn is labeled as the villain and the victim?” Anjani-Ra continues. “Why is it that every time we try to stand on our own two feet we get dismissed? Then what is more, we get sanctioned harder, my children are royals just like yours!” He hisses “Oh mighty and powerful king, may my children partake of the wonderful education and healthcare in this palace?” he requests in a mocking fashion.
“That’s enough Anjani-Ra!” The king says stand up facing him directly. “After the jubilee we can discuss aid for your prefecture.” Aimar continues.
“And there lies the problem!” Anjani-Ra cuts off the king. “It is always another time, or it's always some sort of aid, no, we want full autonomy of our land, of our people!” He demands. “Allow us our culture and religion and stop your damn interference.” He barks not removing his gaze from the king.
“Would it please your temper, if we sent 250 million credits to help your economy?” Viscount offers still holding his cheek.
“That money will go right into our back gums.” The prime minister mocks, before getting up to leave.
“Wait Anjani-Ra…” Aimar says his manner pleading and apologetic. “Let us reconvene at a later time in my quarters tomorrow evening, tonight please enjoy the fine food and drink, and bring some of my help with you to your people as a sign of peace between the two of us.” Aimar offers the disgruntled Prime minister.
“I will consider the offer you have put upon my table, but I want the ministers of the former queen Zellnara to be released.” The Khajiitian counteroffers. “Then maybe we can participate in this event of yours.”
“You’re a selfish fool for even asking such a thing, people like that worshipping that wretched whore, she started the war! She is the reason why over hundreds of thousands lost their lives, and you want her ministers free?!” Aimar says in disbelief, truly questioning the sanity of the prime minister.
“Audere est Facere my friend.” The Khajiitian says with a toothy grin. “To dare is to do correct?” He laughs quietly to himself, giving a crazed shine in his eyes. “Then I shall do, what my heart dares me to do, enjoy the jubilee Aimar, the great lion of Aston Villa.” He walks down the hallway, adjusting his military uniform, same build as the kings but dawning the colors of dark cherry red for the shirt fasted by obsidian buttons, and snow white pants with a black strip on each pant leg. The halfling hands the prime minister his coat which is made from the leather from a bull that was slaughtered in the forest of Nottingham.
“Please my friend, do not make a rash decision.” The king says in an undertone to himself.