Ori found himself standing within a large dark space. The bookshelves that lined the far walls and pillars of a room, just shy of being a hall, suggested some private library. Sensing no movement as his gaze revolved across the first quarter of his surroundings, Ori believed himself to be alone, which was unlikely given what little Ori knew about summoning, specifically the notion that a Summoning likely required a Summoner.
He turned, Mana Sight catching glimpses of ritualistic circles written into the floor. With his arm outstretched, he touched an invisible barrier that instantly raised his hackles. And that was before a bloom of Mana from someone as they stepped out from behind a pillar.
“A human mortal?” Someone gasped with a confused, almost accusatory expression that did little to improve Ori’s mood.
“An elven Sovereign,” Ori stated. His brows furrowed as awareness shifted back to normal sight, the details of the speaker becoming more apparent. To his side stood a young woman with hair so dark its highlights shone blue. Despite a pensive expression, partly shielded by the pillar, she stood with a baring that matched a presence, one on par with Eltitus or any Sovereign-ranked Awakened Ori had met. Her proportions were off, as if naturally too thin or narrow without seeming anorexic. Every bone and limb, long without seeming lanky, graceful without seeming delicate, an otherworldly beauty that was distinctly inhuman without being alien, one made even more so by her preternaturally bright blue eyes and long, sharply tapered ears.
“We are High Elven. Lunaesidhe or Moon Elves to be precise.” She corrected. “And you speak Síogalúna?” Her expression turned more curious, her voice changing pitch, her language shifting. “And what of Mánasidh?”
“Seems like it.” Ori shrugged, his mouth contorting to reply in the same tongue. Experimentally, he reached out, his palm grazing an invisible barrier that seemed to line up with one of the circles drawn below. His mind raced in the silence that followed. As he left the previous trial, he had held in his mind the desire for somewhere safe and as far away from the fields of slaughter as possible. Deep down, Ori knew he was at his limits, and that he needed some time to clear his mind and straighten himself out. “Is that why you summoned me? You need someone to translate?” He added, unwilling to give more away.
Catching a sideways glance from his host, Ori turned full one-eighty degrees to catch sight of another elven woman. Similar in apparent age and frame, though while the first woman wore a navy dress laced with elegant swirls of gold lace, the second was dressed far more demurely, as if some sort of servant or maid. While just as preternaturally beautiful, it was in a way that seemed less severe, with a more human-like dark brown hair and warm, brown eyes. However, behind an affinity that seemed to cloak herself in the shadows of the room, Ori could feel a power almost as vast as the woman in front of him.
“Perhaps.” His gaze was drawn back to the first speaker, a growing curiosity in her eyes as she drifted closer towards him as if forgetting her previous caution. “Just what is a Mortal High Duælist? And the title, Astral Adept how does one acquire such?”
Ori’s frown deepened at the one-sided nature of this exchange. It wasn’t just the fact that he was long past feeling aggrieved being in the midst of so many who could casually swat him with a thought. Between the lingering grief of Sera’s sacrifice, his growing urgency to leave the trial and find Freya, the metaphysical pain of having a wounded soul and the less than cordial welcome, Ori strongly considered just noping out of this final trial. As time lingered and this strange standoff continued, Ori did just that.
A sizzle and snap accompanied by a flash of light happened at the time Ori should have returned to the Crucible. Acrid smoke filled the air as fear and more than a measure of vexation filled Ori’s thoughts. His mind raced, recalling tactics used in the previous trials, and bracing himself to call upon his domain.
“Wait.” The woman held her hand out, and Ori flinched half expecting an attack from the suddenness of her pleading gesture. “We mean you no harm. You tripped a spell fuse, a safeguard, part of the rituals… it was not supposed to keep you here against your will…”
“Alright, so I’ll be going then…”
“...Before you go, we…” Her face seemed anxious, her words halted as she waited to see if he remained, before she exhaled in relief. “...apologise for our poor reception.”
“Who are you and why did you summon me?”
“I am,” She hesitated, her expression one wrestling on a decision before settling on resignation. “Anoriel Thalionwen Luinilthar, or Harriet the first, Queen of Lunaesidhe. And I seek power, power to save that of our line and the Sovereignty of Lunaesidhe.”
“Okay,” Ori said, suddenly weary and overburdened. While unwilling to trust her immediately, her introduction revealed just how big a mess he was likely to step in if he continued. ‘you'd be a newborn chick with golden feathers, and unlike the chick, you would not survive the plucking.’ An intrusive memory from Crucible reminded him just how carefully he’d have to leverage his talents and knowledge if he were to make it out of this trial in one piece. “I am Ori Suba. My title Mortal Duælist, or Duelist” Or repeated, translating into the local language, “probably came from killing demons, and the title Astral Adept was achieved from a trial realm. That you know this means you’re… a diviner?”
“Not just Mortal Duælist, but High Duælist, it seems as if your accolades have grown. As for how I can read your titles, my Ruler class allows me to know the titles of those I address, a useful trait, but one limited to titles only. I see you also hold the titles Summoned Hero and Savior of Astoria. Impressive feats for a mortal, so much so that I wonder how you remain a mortal after all of the accolades you’ve acquired?” She asked as if inviting him to elaborate. Instead, Ori felt the need to manage expectations.
“Yeah, those titles were a lot of luck and freak situations so if you were looking for a hero to face some big bad monster…. Honestly, I’m not sure if I could do anything against something or someone who could give you trouble.”
“Which is just as well, as our problems, due to matters of protocol and the expectations of our position, are not ones we can delegate to a foreign champion.”
“So it’s just politics?” Ori said, suddenly unsure.
“Oh, it is indeed just politics.” Her expression turned cold. “But often does the politics of entire realms have lethal consequences,”
“Right, so you were seeking, what? Someone or something to enhance your personal power? How?” Ori pressed.
“Of that, we are uncertain.” There was a pause as she broke eye contact and began to pace around the summoning circle. “And of yourself, as the summoned party, what is it that you seek?” Harriet said, her pacing continued as if in the deliberation of things he could only guess at. Ori however, faced his own dilemma of what to reveal and how much to trust. As a Queen, she was likely socially and politically adept, a person capable of putting up a front and never revealing more than she intended. Even now, were it not for his warnings from Crucible and others, her feigned disinterest in the question may have lulled Ori into showing more than he should. And yet, there was something he desperately needed.
Harriet paused as if realising just how long her question had gone unanswered. Ori’s gaze intensified as if attempting to delve into the depths of her soul.
After his battle with the Lich and the hollowness of loss, Ori was no longer a proponent of blind heroism, here, every action, good or bad had consequences, opportunity costs and unknowable uncertainties.
“An oath of non-disclosure, for everyone involved.” Ori looked around him, his gaze finding the only other occupant of the room,
“Upon what conditions?” She countered
“Isn’t it always a soul oath?” There was another drawn-out silence that proceeded a brief frown of confusion on Harriet's otherwise enigmatic face.
“I can see why this might be so with summons. Very well, let us make this a mutual soul oath to keep our confidences and not reveal our interactions.” Harriet turned and addressed the woman behind him. “Poppy, would you fetch the oath scrolls and clothes, the rest of you, leave us.”
Ori internally sighed in relief. He was unsurprised as he could feel if not exactly see movement in the shadowy reaches of the library flicker and vanish. As she was a Queen, it made sense for her to have invisible guards or servants. As for the oath, while Harriet or Poppy for that matter, could act against him, being able to limit sources of information leaks felt like a victory.
It was an awkward couple of minutes as both parties stood in the silence unable or unwilling to make casual conversation. In Ori’s case, fear of sounding dumb or revealing something he shouldn’t, tempered whatever culturally fostered desire he felt to fill the silence. In addition, small talk was just something he was never really good at. Meanwhile, unlike his gaze that roved around the entire space in an attempt to avoid staring, Harriet’s graceful stillness focused on him. In the few instances he caught her gaze, Ori noted her looking him over. Instead of checking him out, her appraisal seemed to catalogue all his peculiarities for later referencing and study.
A minute later, he was dressed in a robe, it was only then that he realised that part of his anxiety and defensiveness levels likely came from the fact he stood dressed in only a loin cloth. After reviewing contracts he was happy he could read, Ori, Queen Harriet and Poppy, the woman he came to understand was her handmaiden, signed the soul-binding contract that in essence, enforced the keeping of each other's secrets and knowledge of their involvement with one another to just the people involved in the contract. Satisfied, Ori signed the contract and released an audible exhalation.
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“So, what need of yours might be worth the souls of a High Elven Realm Queen and her handmaiden and send a mortal human across fate?” Harriet asked.
Now feeling foolish for raising expectations so high with his actions, Ori decided that showing would be better than explaining. His right hand lifted and palm facing up, opened in front of him for all to see, Ori summoned the fragments of Seraphine, his soul-bound artefact. The broken shards of crystal sat there like immaculate uncut jewels.
“I need help or knowledge on fixing a soul-bound artefact,” Ori said, his heart galloping as he keenly watched their expressions. He hoped that this was a trivial matter for a High Elven Queen, feared that his artefact would be irredeemably broken shards that would be worth less than junk, or worse, actively hinder him going forward.
“Where did you find this Wand?” Harriet's expression shifted, from blandly curious, to an intense frown that focused on the pieces of glass on his palm.
“I soul bound. It was in a realm called Astoria on the Elemental Demiplane, why?” Ori asked, his concern growing over her dramatic shift in intensity.
“That Wand was created by our Grandmother, it should have been invariant under higher demiplanes and Taurna’dieh by only celestials or Arch Fae. We believe our mother sold this particular item sometime before I was born. We can still sense our grandmother's aura from similar artefacts from her study though.” Harriet said, her expression containing more than a hint of incredulity.
Though initially surprised, Ori suppressed a chuckle at the irony of being sent back to the wand's manufacturer for a fault well after the item's warranty period. “I don’t know what any of that means, but knowing that one of your relatives made this means I must be in the best place to get it fixed, right.”
“Perhaps. Unfortunately, we have no knowledge of my grandmother's craft, and both my grandmother's and mothers souls have long since departed this realm.”
“Oh.”
Seeing Ori’s morose expression, Harriet provided some hope. “We have left her study and workshop untouched in the hopes future generations of our line would pick up her craft, however. Though a rare honour, we would be willing to offer you access to these rooms during your stay here?”
Ori nodded in relief. “And what do you need from me in return?”
“Consider this part of the hospitality of your stay without any obligations in return.” Harriet shifted slightly, her persona taking on a more formal disposition. “By the rights of guests of strictures of High Elven hospitality, We, Queen Harriet the first, have the pleasure of formally inviting Ori Suba, Mortal High Duelist and Astral Adept, to spend a few days at my residence where you may be assured of every measure taken to ensure your stay is comfortable and conducive to fruitful discussions. I believe that in no time at all, personal meetings between us shall provide excellent opportunities for us to explore our shared interests and possible collaborations." Harriet bowed before levelling an expectant gaze.
he tried to parse out her words and figure out how to respond. “Err, Thank you, your majesty, I accept your invitation.” Ori stumbled, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand what was happening, before he released he needed to return her bow. Seeing her smile in response, he sighed. ‘Everything about this trial seems like it’s going to be long.’ he thought internally. He gestured towards the ritual circle and pushed his hand through the barrier that was no longer there. “Can I…”
“Of course.” She turned to her handmaiden. “Poppy please provide our guest with one of the suites near Helena’s workshop.” She returned her attention to him. “Once again, we apologise. This ritual was an archaic, all-purpose, extraplanar summoning circle, one I scarcely understood. Are there any immediate needs that require tending to? Do you have any special dietary or paracausal energy requirements?”
“Errr, no, just food, erm, normal human food would be okay.” He tentatively stepped out of the summoning circle, this time truly taking in the size of the room as he spun round, his gaze lifting to the night sky seen through the skylights above.
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Ori sat alone at the head of a dining table long enough to seat a hundred guests. Though he was joined by no others, the muted presence of the handmaidens somewhere behind him ensured that a panopticonic feeling of scrutiny never left him. As he pondered what Sera would have thought of the situation, an overwhelming wave of loneliness washed over him, rendering the flavourful, leafy, and fresh food tasteless, like cardboard in his mouth.
He turned, unsure of his next action as his gaze sort out the brown-haired woman.
“May I help you, sir?” She asked, her form seeming to unblend from the shadowed corner behind him.
“I… Would it be weird if you joined me? I mean, you don’t need to eat or anything, it would just make me feel more comfortable. If not, maybe I could just eat alone in my suite next time.”
“Either would be fine, sir. Perhaps I shall join you for the end of your meal, and next time I bring future meals to your suite?”
“Yeah, that works.”
She moved to sit four seats away, close enough not to feel overly distant given the massive length of the table. Ori watched as she sat, his mind still coming to terms with the fact she was a real, live elf. She smiled, perhaps sensing some of Ori’s mood.
“I take it humans aren’t a common sight here?” He asked
“Yes, you’re the first one I’ve met as your kind are normally barred from Elven lands, our realm, Lunaesidhe being no exception to this.”
“Why?” Ori frowned, at this moment, he valued his need to know this specific detail was greater than any pretence of education he didn’t have. Poppy leaned back on her chair, her arms folded as a quizzical expression coloured her features.
“Are you telling me you’ve not heard of Hlēo’þorbēon”
“Err, no? What’s… ah.” Ori began before a customary torrent of knowledge flooded his mind.
> Hlēo’þorbēon, derived from the Lanoroth (Archaic High Elven) term that embodies one of the most significant and enigmatic aspects of High Elven culture and law. Literally translated as "Song Law" or "Law of Songs," a complex and deeply rooted tradition that governs the interaction between High Elves and other races, particularly within Elven lands.
>
> Hlēo’þorbēon serves a dual purpose: maintaining the sanctity of High Elven traditions and protecting other races from the unintended consequences of their spiritual songs. The songs are not only a core aspect of High Elven spirituality but also carry immense power. When heard by the 'unevolved', these songs can cause significant harm. The effects range from physical ailments to profound psychological and spiritual disturbances, for example, certain songs have been known to create long-lasting bewitching or charm-like effects from songs heard at the edges of human hearing. The experience can be overwhelming, leading to various symptoms such as acute emotional distress, physical disorientation, or in severe cases, long-term personality disorders
>
> The enforcement of Hlēo’þorbēon is most stringent within realm capitals but can vary across High Elven realms. Its existence has shaped High Elven interactions with other races, creating fundamental divides leading to misunderstandings, especially with humans who often view it as a form of exclusion or elitism…
Ori blinked away the details and returned his attention to Poppy.
“Hlēo’þorbēon, the unevolved are forbidden from hearing elven songs of the spirit, and as no high elf ruler would outlaw elven songs, most unevolved are forbidden from elven lands.”
Ori fought to conceal an incredulous laugh from his voice. “Wow? That… Okay. So wait, what would happen to me if I heard one of these songs right now?”
“My, that is mighty forward of you sir. We barely know each other.” Poppy’s smile returned.
“So, I’m confused, is this a sex thing?”
“Sex is Sex, and Songs are Songs. Though in a setting such as this, usually intimate, a song from one to another might have different meanings depending on the song. And to answer your question, depending on the song, as a mortal, you may be harmed in a variety of different ways without guest rights, but…”
“What is it??”
“I’m not sure, neither of us are.” Poppy continued, somewhat uncertain.
“It is something we’re trying to understand. About you that is. Why fate summoned you instead of the countless other summonses who may have been, if not more suited to our needs, then at least to our expectations.”
“I can understand that, anyway, it’s not like you can’t control yourselves from breaking into song is it?” Ori asked only half in jest.
“No, we have been known to break out into spontaneous dance.”
“What?”
“Oh yes, surely you’ve heard of the Andúthallon?”
> Andúthallon: The Dance of Blade and Shadow
>
> In the annals of Fate, few figures command as much awe and respect as the Caladmaethor Lunae’Sereg. Translated literally as 'Blade Dancers of the Blood Moon', these warriors embody the Grace of Andúthallon, transforming the art of high elven dance, into a deadly ballet. This chapter delves into the various forms of dance they employ and the havoc they wreak upon the battlefield.
>
> Caladmaethor training is said to begin within the tranquil groves of Lunaesidhe where they learn to move through shadow and moonbeams and strike with the swiftness of the wind. The core of their art lies in understanding that every motion in battle is part of a greater dance, a flow whose rhythm they control to manipulate to their advantage.
>
> The Dances of the Caladmaethor:
>
> Echor Aiwenor (Echo of the Eternal Forest): This dance mimics the whispering winds and rustling leaves of ancient woods. The Caladmaethor use swift, fluid movements to confuse and disorient their foes, striking from….
“Caladmaethor Lunae’sereg?” Ori asked uncertainly, in response Poppy’s smile faded.
“Yes, I suppose our blade dancers would be many a human's introduction to Andúthallon, which is a shame as war dances are such a small part of it.”
Ori smiled, “Yeah, I can imagine. I could probably sit here for hours asking you questions but I’m sure you’ve better things to do. Just, before we go, what things must I know? You know, ettique, rules, what to do in case of fire?”
Poppy shook her head, “You’ll be fine, you’ll be protected under guest rights as long as do not try to harm anyone, safe and looked after. While I would avoid wondering anywhere on your own given Song Law and the politics your appearance you could stir, you are not a prisoner here.”
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Dinner continued for several minutes with conversation more muted than before. While Ori had plenty of questions, he knew behind each one were pages and pages of textbooks from Freya’s archive of knowledge waiting for him to absorb. Deciding time would be better spent doing that on his own instead of mid-conversation, he decided to leave those questions for another time. After dinner, Ori was given a tour of the region of the Queen's residence reserved for him. While technically not the palace, the surrounds of the Moon Elf Queen’s spring residence were certainly palatial. Gold and silver-leaf trim, edged red terracotta stonework and decorative vines. Ori saw the baths which were more like Roman-style pools, a night garden of strange and oddly living plants that seemed to react to Poppy’s presence, while luxurious balconies adorned with creeping flowering vines overlooked a landscape that seemed far from civilisation.
Closing off their tour, they arrived at a series of workshops. Opening the door, Poppy gestured for him to enter. Inside was a room that seemed frozen in time, even the dust in the air was still. The room was around ten to twenty paces from wall to wall, though feeling much smaller given how cluttered and full it seemed. Dusk light streamed through small frosted windows, their light beams highlighting just how dusty the room was. A small small library of books covered one wall while chunky, well-warn work benches, a sofa and a dusty single bed took up the other sides.
Scrolls and parchments with diagrams that seemed like alien flow charts covered the surfaces, while glass jars of paracausally active liquids were stacked on shelves that took up the spaces above.
“This was Queen Varma’s drafting room.” Poppy announced, her tone returning to her demure, professionalism of earlier. Ori nodded as his gaze took in the space in its entirety. In the middle of the room were draws containing an arcane pressure he could feel through the goosebumps on his skin. Ori opened one of the draws and found odd materials, bones of various sizes, woods of different colours and grains, meanwhile, rocks and chunks of crystal took up space in the lower draws. Through Mana sight, Ori could see the ambient Mana swirling and twisting around these items in different ways, a wild curiosity spawning in his heart.
“Just what was Queen Varma’s craft?” Ori asked in wonder.
“She was a Wandsmith.”