There are some interesting challenges presented when you are creating a building entirely out of un-melting ice. For one thing, the temperature inside the building was always freezing, which made things perfect for those like me, but miserable for creatures more vulnerable to the cold. Fortunately, by this point my entire staff had managed to become cold resistant, so the cold of the castle no longer bothered them.
More troublesome to combat than the chill was the fact that floors made from ice, even un-melting ice, were slick, and could make accidents likely, especially when dealing with situations where visitors and staff were not as graceful as I was. This, I solved by having stone tiles brought in, and laid out, so that the floor would at least have some measure of traction to it. As advantageous as it would be in a fight to have my foes constantly sliding about, the day-to-day realities of the situation made such a thing untenable.
Obviously, having walls made of ice tempted any enemies one had to try using fire against it. So, I had put in enchantments that protected the building, and those inside it, from fire’s touch. There had been a moment of worry about whether that meant the cooks in the kitchen would be reduced to serving nothing but cold meals, but it quickly became apparent that the enchantment only applied to fire coming from without. A Great Wyrm Gold Dragon could breathe on my castle as much as they liked, and not even a hair on the heads of the guards manning the ballistae would be singed, yet a simple spell would set the fire in the hearth to burning, just like normal.
Of course, not the entire complex was made of Blue Ice. The underground spaces naturally had stone walls, and the outbuildings around the keep were made of wood. The curtain wall surrounding the keep looked to the outside as though it were blue ice, like the rest, but, in truth, that was just an outer layer to the wall, with hard stone behind it. Both layers of the wall were individually enchanted, increasing their defensive capability, offering resistance against fire, conjuring a wall of wind to protect my archers from enemy arrows, and making them slicker than normal, thus harder for an enemy to climb without ladders.
Within that curtain wall, I had training grounds and barracks for the core of my army. Every one of my soldiers, and the royal guards in my command, wore masterwork armor and carried masterwork weapons. The officers all had enchanted gear. Oh, it was not nearly to the level of my own gear, of course, but it was still enchanted, and a source of pride for those who wore my colors.
There were also two sets of stables. One was a well-built thing, suitable for the horses of visitors, or for my messengers. The second was perhaps the most luxurious stable in a month’s ride, and it was the domain of Ebonheart alone, unless other steeds of suitable lineage or station were visiting. At least, on paper. In practice, I let him bring in mares to stud with whenever he wished. And people looked the other way if some of those mares walked on two legs. Suffice to say, he was very popular amongst a certain segment of the population.
The outer wall of the keep was a full twenty feet in front of the doors, allowing a passageway ten feet wide where those on the second floor could fire down upon invaders if they tried to rush the doors. Those doors were made of graven stone, and backed by an iron portcullis. Even if one broke through those doors, they’d find themselves in a narrow passage with arrowslits in the side walls, and a barbican above, ready to rain death down upon invaders. And they would find their path blocked by another set of doors, backed by another portcullis, slowing their advance. This simple guard area, and the barbican above, would make any invader pay a heavy price if they sought to push through the front door and invade my palace. But, at the moment, the portcullises were raised, and the doors open wide.
A room with walls where the ice was polished to a mirror sheen awaited beyond, with several tapestries to dampen the sound, and doors leading off to other parts of the palace. However, the main focus of the room were two more doors, made of stone and carved in the same manner. The scene on the door depicted my fight with the dragon Freezingdoom, as the locals called it. What the creature’s true name was, I neither knew, nor cared, but I made sure that my battle was displayed, and that all knew that, beyond this door, was my throne room.
The throne room of my palace was a two-story affair. Twin balconies overlooked the room on either side from the second floor, where those who were allowed in such a space would be face to face with the polished bones of the dragon I’d slain. It had been an old creature, and its hoard had done much to finance the construction of my palace, so it was only right that the dragon’s bones were arrayed above my throne as a testament to my power.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
On the first floor, it was a fairly standard affair, as far as throne rooms went, made exotic and otherworldly by the blue ice walls chilling the air and making the entire place look as though it were straight out of a fairy tale. Ironic, since I was part-fey in this world. My throne, however, was no simple affair. Carved from a slab of blue ice, with furs cast over the seat and arms in reminiscence of Frostwind Dale, where I’d grown up in this world, the throne was inlaid with silver, and an obsidian snowflake topped high back of the seat, displaying the symbol of my house for all to see.
There I sat, as the archon passed through the stone doors leading to my throne room. She was pretty, in that way that all beings of the higher planes tended to be, but even from this distance I could see the lines of sorrow upon her face. I knew that look all too well, for I’d seen it in the mirror many times in my old life. It forced me to wonder what she’d been through, if it had been anything like my own troubles.
Melinda’s Sense Motive Check: 1d20+38 = 53 (Success)
The guard wearing my livery announced, “Presenting, the archon Sanvi, Daughter-Wife of Zadkiel, the Divine Blade.” I noticed that the archon’s face twitched as she was being announced. Barely there, but noticeable, at least to me. She did not like the association brought up with her father, but was used to hiding the reaction, I guessed.
The archon bowed, not low, in subservience, but enough to show that she recognized my power and authority in this place. Considering that I was openly wearing the symbol of Auril as part of my raiment, that was interesting, indeed. Even more interesting was that her glow, that otherworldly luster that seemed to fill creatures of the higher planes, looked dimmer now, than it had been when she entered the room.
I looked down at her, and said, simply, “Archon Sanvi, We admit that this is something of a surprise. You have come to Our lands, and asked for this audience by name. While word of the new kingdom forming in the northlands has spread, thanks to the prophecy causing people to look for signs and portents in everything, you asked for me not by the name We have given to the public, but by the name We held before my exile from Our people’s lands. Thus, you no doubt have knowledge of Our deeds, and Our proclivities. And yet you, a being of law and good made manifest, come here, promising nonviolence.
“The use of Our old name, and the risk you took in approaching my people, has not gone unnoticed. That you stand before Us now, with no enmity upon your face, is recognized, as well. Very well, Archon. You have piqued Our interest. Why have you come to Our realm?”
Sanvi took a breath, and said, “As the herald said, I am Sanvi, trumpet archon, and unwilling bride to my father, Zadkiel. Unwilling mother to my sons, Peliel and Sidriel, though their father disowned the second after he fell to darkness, and both are now dead. I am but one of several wives that Zadkiel has brought with him to this plane, in search of the ones behind the events of Tormfall, at Torm’s direct command.”
“Interesting. Then, why have you come to me? It does not sound like you are eager to pursue the mission you’ve been sent on, and your tone does not suggest you are seeking vengeance for your fallen children. So, why come to me?”
The archon took a deep breath, and said, “Because I have come to forswear my allegiance to Torm, and cast aside the connections between myself and my father. For too long, I have been his plaything, as my mother was before me. It was only because she still had family that she could leave him when he was cast out of Tyr’s service, but she would not take me with her, since I’d already been sullied by that time, and her family wanted nothing to do with me.
“And when he forced us to join Torm, things grew even worse. Most of his harem remained, and my sister-wives included my actual sister, and her daughter. My firstborn son, Sidriel, became darkened by a greater form of lycanthropy, which he sought out to increase his power, in hopes of usurping my father. My younger son, Peliel, lusted after me, and the other wives, and so was easily drawn into what must have been a trap the night of Tormfall. I can’t take it anymore. But now, with this ‘glorious mission’, I have a chance to break free, and become my own person. I’ll not squander it.”
Resolve filled her voice, and she said, “I, Sanvi, hereby cut all ties with my father, my family, and with Torm, forsaking them forever!”
As she spoke, her wings began to change. No longer white as fallen snow, they turned greyer the longer she spoke. Finally, with that last declaration of unmistakable intent, there was a sound like the crack of thunder mixed with the shattering of glass. The bracelets and collar that she had been wearing shattered, and fell from her body, transforming from simple jewelry to steel bindings before they touched the floor. A wellspring of power flowed around the archon, strong enough that it caused the wind to stir my hair, even where I was sitting on my throne!
Finally, the power slowed, and finally stopped, leaving behind only the archon, standing as she was before. No, not quite. She looked diminished from her previous form. Still otherworldly, but closer to human than she had been when she entered my hall.
Meeting my gaze once more, this time, the archon knelt upon one knee, showing actual supplication, and said, “I, Sanvi the Fallen, offer my allegiance to the Twice-born daughter of another world, Queen Melinda Rimedancer, to aid her as best I can. Without coercion or deceit, I offer this pledge. Let my fate be decided by her hands alone!”
One could have heard a pin drop in the throne room, such was the shock that not just I, but all those in attendance felt when confronted with such a statement. Finally, I took a deep breath, and said, “Rise, Sanvi of the Fallen. As Queen of Frostreach, I, Melinda Rimdancer, take you into my service. From this day forth, you shall be Sanvi Chaosborn. No law applies to you save my own. No code or stricture binds you save those of my making. Good and evil have no sway over you, and never again shall you bow to any other save me. Swear now to me.”