CHAPTER 30: DIPLOMATIC MEETING
Dusk reached the sacred city. Orange light was shown through the brilliant leaves of the Spirit Blossom Willow, like sunrays piercing through heavy clouds.
Soren looked through the balcony—he could see in the distance a large castle that looked to be attached to the cliff-side of the tree’s trunk. It was incredibly serene. It loomed over him with fine edges and decorations spread evenly across its walls and towers—all of them intertwined finely with the holy wood of the colossal tree. He questioned how they could have even built such a thing—it was completely hanging from the side of the tree. The bottom of the castle was visible. He could see what looks to be some sort of magical platform levitating up and down—presumably to carry people up toward it.
Tina walked by and threw her weight on the railing of the balcony. “Sigh… I can’t believe how imposing Floramere Keep is…”
Soren chuckled. “It is indeed beautiful. I have never seen anything like it. But surely Aellora also has amazing architecture too, no?”
“Celestine Citadel does come a bit close in sheer scale. But its main attraction is the Sub-terrarian Labyrinthos.”
Soren remembered what he’d heard from Myrin. “The Avalon Empire?”
She nodded. “The relics found deep within still amaze scholars to this day. Entire wars against the neighboring Staterra Kingdom were fought over them.
“The bloodshed hasn’t ended even now. Though, they mostly just employ Phantasms as spies to enter Celestine and steal relics from under the noses of the Holy Raven’s Watch.”
Soren had no time to ponder over her words. The Moving Home started to lower itself into an open slot—they had reached their stop.
“Do you think the disguises will work?” He glanced over at Tina, who simply lowered her head against the railing in boredom.
“It should. Our mistress worked on them.”
While Myrin was supposed to go and meet with Sylia to negotiate the deal, Soren and Tina were going to go to the market to purchase other essentials as well as items their mistress had ordered them to obtain. Soren had still not been told the exact details of this deal they were supposed to negotiate. All he knew was that Myrin needed to obtain approval to obtain a large quantity of the Spirit Blossom Willow’s wood. This was something the Church of Nature needed for whatever reason.
As for what Myrin’s group as well as Sylia got in return for facilitating and accepting this deal? He had no idea.
Myrin approached the balcony. “I'll be heading out to Floramere Keep.” He had changed out of his usual white robe and mage hat into what looked to be a dark blue oriental silk robe with an orange sash belt wrapped around his stomach. Floral embroideries went down his collar. His legs were covered by what looked to be silk trousers and normal straw sandals.
Soren nodded at him. “Be careful of that Luvin guy, and whoever else shares his views.”
Myrin chuckled and headed for the door of their room. “I am sure the Maiden will protect me. Praise the blossoms.”
“Praise the blossoms,” Soren repeated.
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After taking a quick Spirit Beast carriage, Myrin finally made it to the base of Floramere Keep. It was a large square area that looked polished in marble. At the center, Royal Guards from the Court of Tulips watched over the levitating stone platforms going up and down. An air of elegance and lethality covered their shining spears.
“Praise the blossoms,” Myrin said while lowering his head.
“Praise the blossoms,” the guard replied. “Identification? And do you have an appointment?”
Myrin pulled out a wooden badge with a symbol of a flower surrounded by stars. “I have come as a diplomat for Aellora on behalf of the holy Saintess.” He handed the badge to the guard who seemed a bit annoyed with the mention of Aellora.
“You may pass.”
It took a bit of waiting until the platform lowered itself again. Stepping onto it, Myrin noticed glowing emerald green lines coursing through the marble. Spellforms, he thought. It had been 15 years since the last time he had stepped onto this platform. Back then, he was nothing but a child—he had never noticed any of the details. Even his home, Floramere Keep, which he had memorized every hallway of, looked more imposing now that he had the time to appreciate its intricacies.
“I wonder how they are all doing,” he caught himself smiling for a second then remembered his task.
Reaching the castle, Myrin was once again interrogated by the guards who demanded his identification. He happily obliged.
“Exile? Why in the Maiden’s name would you be here?! Have you decided to bring shame to our family again?!”
The cold voice pierced through his heart—he recognized it. “Aunt Lestia…”
“Do not call me aunt! How dare you address me!” It was a woman with blonde hair that looked to be in her fifties. Wrinkles covered her aged skin, and yet, a sliver of beauty remained—a reminder of better times.
“I apologize, High Lady Lestia.” He corrected himself.
The woman was surrounded by maids who were flustered by the encounter—though, a few enjoyed the drama.
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“How dare you enter this sacred place once again! Are you trying to waste Saintess Finnea’s mercy?!”
Myrin lowered his head. “I have received permission from the holy Saintess Sylia to be here—I apologize for any confusion.”
She glanced up and down at him furiously. Her suspicions were only slightly lowered when she noticed the wooden badge in his hand. “Hmph, carry on then. Try not to bring further shame upon our family name.”
Myrin stayed silent as she walked away with her maids. He smiled slightly. “Just as feisty as I remembered.”
The Zinrie family. It was the Royal Family of Yadria—their role was mostly ceremonial, but they did take care of the governance of the city—introducing policy, planning out new infrastructure and whatever goes into running a city. In the social hierarchy, they were placed directly below the Saints. Even so, they all lived a life of luxury and status—Myrin too.
At least up until his exile from Yadria. He was only five years old at the time—children of that age were finally introduced into participating in the annual Yasini’s Paradise. And for noble children, it was an even bigger deal. It symbolized the first coming of age ceremony. It also marked their introduction to high society within the dreamscape.
Myrin? He never even entered the dreamscape. He slept through it.
That was the moment his parents discovered he was unblessed. For the Zinrie family which has served the Maiden for more than a millennium—this was a stain on their legacy. How could their heir be shunned by the Goddess? They couldn’t let anyone find out about this. After countless arguments over his fate, some suggesting life-long imprisonment to even execution, High Lady Lestia pleaded with the Saintess of Blossoms for leniency.
In the end, the decision came down to exile or death. As a five year old, he couldn’t make the decision through his tears. Lestia simply agreed on his behalf, and with only a handful of his belongings, he was thrown into a nearby spatial gate—kicked out of the Feylith Forest entirely.
Myrin smiled as he walked down the hall—all of it brought back memories he didn’t think he could still remember. A large, imposing gate appeared before him. Intricate floral designs were sculpted across its marble finish. Two royal guards stood on each side of it.
The Chamber of Dreams. One of the most holy places within Floramere Keep, alongside the Chamber of Spirits and the Chamber of Blossoms. Where the three Saintesses resided.
“The first exile of Zinrie comes to greet the holy Saintess of Dreams.”
The two guards looked at each other in puzzlement—a serene, womanly voice entered their minds. “Let him in.”
They frantically rushed to open the gate. Myrin took a deep breath and stepped inside.
It was a large hall with a red carpet going all the way down the center. At the other end of the room, a stairway that leads up to a platform could be seen. The platform itself was veiled by a curtain—a silhouette of a woman sitting on the floor on her knees. Even though Myrin couldn’t see her figure, he could tell she was attractive. A shimmering veil of energy lingered in the air that held the aroma of honeysuckle.
He realized he was staring into space and lowered himself frantically. “I apologize.”
His apology was returned with silence.
I need to watch myself, he thought.
All Saintesses were beautiful—and to a terrifying degree. Some even describe Them to be inhuman—in the general sense that it was impossible for mortals to even fathom Their innate beauty. Anyone that looked at Them was said to instantly be enchanted and turned into a slave. It was for this reason that She hid behind a curtain and even then, a simple silhouette was still enough to enamour most mortals. Their anima was just that potent.
“Myrin of Zinrie. The first exile… Come closer.”
Myrin gulped as he approached the platform and kneeled. “As promised, I have arrived to facilitate the dialogue between the High Court of Dreams and Aellora’s Aetolus family. They would like to purchase 50 cords of Spirit Blossom Wood and 10 carts worth of Spirit Saint Ash.”
“Why do they demand these holy materials?”
Myrin lowered his head. “A ritual. To the Greenfather.”
Silence permeated the air—it was suffocating. Fortunately, She replied. “May I ask what they offer in return?”
“In collaboration with Staterra’s officials, a new section of the Avalon Ruins was discovered. As you may know, the Maiden, praise the blossoms, had some relations to that ancient history. Relics from the Second Age of Fantasia will most likely be found there. They found evidence to support such a claim.
“They would like to offer you and whoever you champion to enter the Labyrinthos. Any relics you find in relation to our ancestors would be returned to its rightful place.”
The room fell to silence once again. Myrin mulled over his words, trying to make sure he didn’t say anything offensive.
“Very well. But we will only offer half of their demands. The other half would be sent after the expedition.”
Myrin thought for a second and nodded. They didn’t tell me to haggle. “Very well. I must thank you for your graciousness, most holy Saintess. I will make sure to deliver the news.”
“And another thing…”
“Y-yes…”
“If that area within the Avalon Ruins is discovered to be a sacred temple of the Maiden, they must give the land to us.”
The land itself?... Myrin was stumped—this was a problem. The underground labyrinthos of the old Avalon Empire were magically enchanted to twist and change periodically. A location that once was in the East of the dungeon could be in the West by the next day. If they have a portion of the dungeon to Yadria, would it be the static location or will the borders need to be redrawn each time the dungeon changes? He didn't know.
“T-that is something I cannot decide on behalf of Aellora. I will need to forward this demand to the Church of Nature and the only Royal family for further inquiry.”
“Very well,” Her voice radiated out into the chamber.
Just as he was about to stand up and leave, her enchanting voice echoed out once more.
“What do you think of Yadria, Myrin of Zinrie?”
The question made him freeze. What does She mean by that?
“I-I… I think it is still as sacred as I used to remember it.”
“Do you wish to return?”
He was stumped. He stood silently for a straight minute. His lips curled up into a smile. “Your mercy is truly boundless. But I must regretfully reject your gracious offer.
“I.. I finally have a place to call home.”
Silence permeated the air. Myrin held his breath—he was unsure if he had just offended the holy Saintess.
“That is indeed regrettable. You may not be blessed by the Maiden’s infinite grace, but your moral character and talent is above the rest. Should you change your mind, you are always welcome to enter the Court of Roses.”
His eyes flashed with surprise. She thinks of me this highly?! He lowered his head embarrassingly. “I-I am honored by your words…”