NOVEL NEXT 584. Feast's End
Hear ye the tale of Crimson Lucy, born in dragon's blood, the Fair,
Of fabled Goras Queen's immense legend, this fool must now sing
For she learned to fly on a golden Wyvern's wing
Past distant seas & far-off lands, to the final gasp of an alien prayer
Heave ho, o' ye haunting maiden of charms & unparalleled might
Of ancient myths and lines realized, witch's prophesies rang true
The fiery inferno in her gaze, red & gold, an absence of blue
For unyielding she stands above us all, the Monarch's delight
Her silent laughter rang out o'er waves, deserts & the Haze Sea
Her graceful shadow scared an Aken's bride, a wizard's fiend n' a Banshee
Ever praised Crimson Lucy be, for by her grace this realm now stands free
Crimson Lucy
Unknown bard
(Possibly Harmon Devos)
----------------------
*Performed a single time during the Queen of Queens Lussiel Inis-Mir Aniculo first official visit to Queen Elsanne Eikenaar in Issir's Eagle. The tune of this half-ballad belonged to an older pirate shanty and was given by Queen Lussiel herself to an unknown Issir bard at the time (years later revealed to be Harmon Devos with several others objecting to his claims), who came up with the verses on the spot allegedly and then sang the whole thing before the two Queens. Harmon admitted it was the most terrifying show of his life, since the petrifying in reputation and easily offended, young Queen of Wetull had declared verbatim, 'Please use the moniker you like, mister Harmon. We heard it spoken in the local markets. Spoken by you amongst others. We know the town for we walked its streets unobserved for days. We know you and I know your friends. This is a chance to redeem yourself. Remain courteous, for my father liked this tune and I fervently dislike those not favoring my father. You all profited from his generosity and sacrificed nothing. Your presence disgust me, but I'm a cultured person, working on my manners. So for this task, you'll get no reward, other than the opportunity to leave this hall in one piece. Go on… you'll be fine… or not.'
It remained the only song from a Jelin native somewhat praising Lussiel for years.
-
Glen
also Sir Glenavon Reeves of Altarin
Arguen Garth
Hardir O' Fardor
Lord of Morn Taras
Monarch of Wetull
King beyond the Pale Mountains
Aniculo Rokae
Duath Erin I Menel
Malantur O' Furu
Rhu Fareno
Feast's End
the servants struggled to move the heavy-boned Dwarf from the 'stage', just as the clouds finally allowed for some of early noon's sunrays to shine over the setup pavilions housing the feast's tables and guests. Theron Gravelbrow had proclaimed he could dance better than Memphes but in his attempt to lift a stubby leg above his waist, the dwarf had slipped and cracked his big head on the wet ground. No surprise there, just physics. It looked devastating, but the first responders, announced to the shocked audience -by now slightly buzzed that Theron was fine and soundly asleep, instead of dead.
Time to wrap this shite up, before Luthos sticks a finger in the meringue, Glen thought, watching Aelrindel drink his wine like it was spring water. Her ability to build up a resistance to alcohol poisoning mighty impressive.
"How about we—?" The king started – mind preoccupied with the lewder of thoughts, strategically placing a hand on the sorceress' uncovered thigh under the table. Aelrindel thudded her goblet on the table breaking it and cutting his words short, then turned her messy head to smile at him apologetically for the damage.
Yer forgiven.
"This is a great feast, I don't wish to end," she told the grimacing -in the attempt to change his annoyed expression to a forced grin- Monarch.
"Of course, we could stay for a very little while longer," Glen rustled with difficulty, looking in the witch's large and gleaming eyes. "But it is going to be a chilly night after the rain, unless the clouds take a hike and we get a bit more sun to warm all the darn granite."
"I don't mind it," Aelrindel murmured. "Try and have a feast in Dan around this time of year and you'll appreciate it tenfold. It was freezing."
Glen had only half-listened to her words, as his eyes had drifted down the relaxed witch's long neck and then strolled inside the cavernous valley between her heaving breasts. "In the winter? Yeah, it gets chilly," he noted and the witch's nipples carving at the tunic's fabric agreed with him.
"During the summer," Aelrindel chuckled seeing his expression and then stooped near his face, which only offered even more reach for Glen's adventurous hand. "Your guests might wonder about the king's actions," she whispered. It was almost a cat's purr. A large cat, with large eyes and extra bits… also large and more soft than furry. Ehem. "And this witch about your intentions," the sorceress added.
"Keep talking," Glen retorted hoarsely, "let's put yer theory to the test. See whether fantasies match reality."
"Ha! There, the shameless culprits stand!" A loud female voice cut through the noise of the many people discussing or humming at the tired performers' music.
The startled Glen perked up in his seat, caught with a thumb lightly stroking the witch's warm and shaved vulva. The stimulating discovery had brought a querying stare on his face, Aelrindel had just answered with a taunting raise of her left eyebrow and then they both moved away from each other. Jinx had gone from a cartwheel to a somersault in the meantime, tapping the top of Folen's head with a foot -in order to gain even more momentum, and then rolled all the way to the front of the King's table, afore jumping upright with a fierce glare.
Pointing one accusing arm at the grimacing Glen and the other at the frozen in horror Atju, before she slowly moved her finger's aim at the amused Sorceress.
"Jinx," Lith yelled standing up, Sir Delmuth reaching for his sword at first, then paused upon realizing the identity of the crazy Gish who had just rushed the Monarch's table.
"Ha-ha," Glen chuckled nervously, with Rimeros getting up as well from two seats away and Atju breathing out for dodging the worst. "Lady Lussiel, always provides comic relief when things turn stale! Which they hadn't this time, but we forgive her."
"Stick yer forgiveness up her bumhole! And what relief?" Jinx squinted her red-rimmed eyes and then adroitly jumped on the King's table to 'tower' over the seating and grimacing fiercely Glen. "You blew up my villa! Admit it!"
"Ha! She's kidding," Glen glanced about him. "I didn't."
"I know you were there!" Jinx screeched and snapped her head towards the witch, a curtain of pink curls dropping over her eyes, the Gish blew out of the way twisting her mouth upwards. "Searching for the witch of Rida!"
"Jinx!" Lith barked.
"She must be you…?" Jinx continued disregarding the angry, old princess, "sneakily playing the victim…" Aelrindel blinked unsure, "disguised into a much prettier cunt. I can smell yer arousal—"
"Ha-ha, Lady Lussiel always livens the atmosphere," Glen commented to play down the matter, cutting in afore Jinx said something they couldn't explain away. "Whisper that's enough."
"Your ears are too floppy, eyes too-large and yer tits… are fine," Jinx continued ignoring his instructions, with Aelrindel touching her now erect Zilan ears and the not-yet-fully acquainted with Jinx bystanders murmuring startled at the verbiage. "I thought Moira was prettier."
"Goddess! What nonsense!" the affronted Witch snapped and went to stand up, with Glen placing a hand on her shoulder to prevent it. Aelrindel slapped his hand away with a hiss. Good grief, the witch has a temper! "Listen Gish, I had serious reasons to keep a low profile—"
"What low-profile?" Jinx retorted. "Ye are seating at the King's table!"
"Jinx," Lith said as she approached them with a glare at Sir Delmuth to stand aside. "We told you she has enemies—"
"No, you didn't," Jinx snapped at her.
"I was invited, by the Monarch himself!" Aelrindel replied indignant to her previous query, with everyone speaking at the same time whilst the overwhelmed Monarch stood with his face getting ravaged by nervous ticks and weird grimaces.
Low-key relieved in his worry that the girls were fighting amongst themselves.
You don't want them ganging up on you, he wisely surmised.
"It was implied!" Lith hissed very annoyed at Jinx for causing a scene probably, answering the 'enemies' earlier question. Following their back and forth was a bit confusing.
Which in turn is pretty helpful, Glen thought.
"Of course you were! He vacuums in all chicks that walk past him," Jinx yelled with a glare at Glen who gawked at her in shock, whilst pretending at innocence. "None stands hornier than the King in this here yard!"
Bullshit! How about yerself? Or Folen? He runs a brothel fer crying out loud!
"And you thought it prudent? Why on earth?" Lith barked at the frustrated sorceress.
"Of course I did," Aelrindel replied. "It was done with proper decorum!"
"What does decorum have to do with anything? You were supposed to lay low!" Lith argued, which was technically correct, but Glen opted not to intervene.
"You traitor," Jinx hissed and then returned her eyes on Glen unfortunately. The king was still assessing the situation, quickly reading the audience's response to the quarrel. "You snake," she added grinding her teeth and Glen signaled for the guards to cordon their table in order to minimize the gossip from spreading too-much.
"Whisper, I gave you a great apartment downtown," he told the glowering Gish raising his voice enough to be heard clearly, whilst assuming an understanding and benevolent tone. In the meantime Aelrindel and Lith kept quarreling on the previous topic –the prudence of laying low even when it's tempting not to, as if Glen hadn't noticed 'Moira' from the first moment she had stepped her pretty foot inside his castle. "Plenty of coin gifted, for you and yours. Turning a blind eye—"
"Man, you are so guilty always," Jinx griped cutting him off rudely and shook her pink head. "Even if I'm not sure a hundred percent, I can wager on you doing something shady all the time."
"How is this shady?" Glen protested. "That place was a ruin! Ready to come down at a moment's notice!"
"With magic!" Jinx roared.
"Ugh? She…" Glen started to say, realized Aelrindel and Lith had paused to hear his answer and pivoted mid-speech. "…had to defend herself against Berthas and Keya, which was a misunderstanding," he added to reassure the worried –also present- mage and his pupil. "Resolved without…" Rimeros cleared his throat warningly and the grimacing Glen yet again corrected himself mid-speech. "…much loss of life."
"Easy for Kings to use their might to pursue common interests," Jinx preached. "When common people can't!"
"I'll do whatever I like," Glen rustled and Rimeros intervened.
"Lady Lussiel, this is quite enough," he told the glowering Gish. "We don't favor such language on these grounds, nor do we condone such activism!"
"Shut up you autocratic dog!" Jinx snapped.
"I beg your pardon?" Rimeros retorted, with the frowned Glen silencing him with a gesture.
Jinx stopped the fed up Glen -from ordering the guards to remove her forcefully- getting a crumpled scroll out of her back pocket and dangling it in front of his face. Glen grinded his teeth and stared at the inoffensive piece of paper. "Martel got himself in big trouble?" the rowdy Gish elucidated, since she got nothing out of the surly Monarch.
Who… Uh?
"Martel…?" Glen snatched the offered scroll and paused to smile reassuringly at the bystanders, now watching them from behind the row of guards, who were standing in front of the king's table. "The company is with the Issir Queen, as I recall."
"That's right," Jinx retorted, curling her lip. "Read it. I couldn't on account this being a letter for more literate folk, but Ottis' kin shall travel here soon enough to tell us more in person."
Wait… what? Why?
Glen unfurled the scroll to read it right then and there, but paused thoughtfully. "This is not the time or place to discuss a diplomatic matter Whisper. We are attending a feast, not a council meeting."
That's some serious ruler's talk right there, Glen applauded himself.
"Yeah?" Jinx asked mischievously and sat down cross-legged on the table. She looked about her. "What are ye serving?" The Gish reached for a half-finished plate, picked up a slice of white meat and pushed it in her large mouth.
"The feast is over," Glen grunted, whilst Jinx chewed on the meat using her whole face in the process.
"Plenty of food left," Jinx told them in between chomps and then she swallowed with difficulty. "God darn it, Ostrich meat is the worst. Who had this crazy idea to serve it?"
Shit! Somebody take the plate from her!
"What? No, silly… it's mule's meat. A plate served in Glenavon's homeland," Aelrindel corrected her.
Well… we do eat the occasional street rat us Shroudcoast ole strays.
Who's to say a fine cut of mule would be turned down?
For it wouldn't.
Ayup.
"No, it isn't. I've had it before with Dante in an exotic eatery. He was weird like that. Anyhow, what you just said sounds like a story our noble leader would have concocted on the fly!"
Fuck's sake, her small pink head is packed with brains to the rafters! If not for her lifestyle, meaning booze, sex and probably plenty of narcotics—
"That was too-much meat served for one Ostrich," Lith assured the frowned sorceress interrupting the Monarch's thought and the half-panicked this was delving in dangerous territory Glen decided to take the matters into his own hands. That is, he reached and forcefully removed the plate from the yelping Jinx's hands.
"THIS FEAST IS OVER!" He declared with a mighty roar to shut her up and then chucked the plate with its contents back over his shoulder. A bang was heard, drown in a groan and then a loud clatter, but no one reacted since everyone thought the Monarch justified.
It wasn't an opinion, just an unwritten rule. The King's actions during a feast can't be judged, Glen had said during an earlier dinner.
"Glen had at least six Ostriches," Jinx argued with Lith after a moment's pause. "They were housed right… well, there's a building missing! There! LOOK! The plot thickens!"
God damn it Whisper!
"We had to remodel the yard," Glen rustled and signed for the guards to break up the crowd and 'urge' their guests to vacate the premises. "On account of Ivasaar needing space to park his wyvern! It was a controlled demolition!"
Rimeros and several of the guards present for the event grimaced with unease, but kept their silence.
"Lord Garth," Ivasaar's voice was heard, the unseen Zilan dragon-rider struggling to push past the knights. "I don't need such consideration—"
"You'll get it!" Glen barked before he could rein himself in. He flashed a fierce grin at the astonished sorceress. "Jinx is feeling frustrated and is prone to making mistakes—"
"What? I'm not! Why are you lying—?"
"She's clearly frustrated," Glen maintained, casting a warning glance at the Gish. Jinx squinted her eyes and then widened them dramatically. "Annoyed that you tricked her, which is something we've overlooked since we are quite forgiving people."
"Sure," Jinx smirked –her big brain finally working, and winked at the grimacing Monarch.
"But what about my Ostrich?" Aelrindel inquired with a pout.
Fuck yer bird. It gave up the ghost.
Kicked the fucking bucket.
Drew its last breath and was roasted.
Soon to be turned into turds.
Your insistence is getting on my nerves wench!
"We had to relocate it to a more natural habitat for mating reasons. Master Laedan and Rama are experts; we don't mess around with nature's creatures here," Glen fabricated something out of nothing after he released a solemn sigh, desperately trying to manage the situation, and he could already sense from Lith's reaction that this was becoming quite challenging.
Whisper needs to stop repeatedly kick the hornet's nest!
"That's very noble," Aelrindel remarked, taken aback.
Or perhaps, the challenge isn't as daunting as it first appeared, Glen thought.
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Morn Taras
(Tenebrous Castle)
King's Council Antechamber (Between columns 2 and 3)
(The extended Main Hall grounds consisted of the throne room, the six gigantic support columns standing twenty meters apart and forty from the outer slanted walls, and the long but narrower two hundred meters long corridor leading to the inner gates –or entrance- to the Main Hall. The inner gates leading through the keep's barbican to the outer entrance at the base of the half-pyramid, which led in its turn to the Castle's yard.)
Worn out from the brisk walk, Glen spotted the first chair at one of the two expansive tables and sank into it. The weight of nearly two days filled with feasting and drinking –also standing and sitting at every toast- bore down on the Monarch, who had hurried alongside his knights to be the first to enter the Main Hall. Jinx, Lith, and Aelrindel –along with the other Morn Taras officials– trailed behind at a distance.
"Water," he instructed Atju, reaching for an intricately engraved silken towel to dab the sweat from his brow. "Rimeros," Glen called out to the Zilan advisor, who had rushed to keep pace with the Monarch. "Where is Elsanne? The Issir Queen."
"Ahm, we are not aware… perhaps the Monarch meant; where are her armies located?"
I need ye to be quicker my dude.
And less annoying.
"Aye," a serious Glen puffed out and grabbed the goblet Atju had brought him. "Speak, afore the barbarians reach us!"
"They are besieging the Issir Capital, Hardir," Rimeros expounded.
"Uhm. So, how the fuck did Martel got smacked around so hard?" Glen grunted and opened the scroll to read it, found the hall much too dark and waited for Atju to bring a lightstone lamp near him.
"Should we lit up the hall, your grace?" Atju asked and Glen stared at the monstrous chandeliers over their heads and at the attached torches in front of the black granite columns for a moment before replying curtly.
"No."
Each chandelier carrying fifty lightstones to operate at full capacity and there were twenty four of them over the columned part of the hall and an additional six in the throne room itself, for a total of thirty –without counting the metal torches attached to each column.
"Guests are coming," Rimeros reminded him.
"Grab a couple of servants and light up the last four columns… nay, just two of them. One per side and the one next to the throne platform. And over here. Um."
"Great Garth," Atju started.
"That's it, Atju." Glen cut him off. "Stop being so wasteful mate! You want more lightstones, grab a pickaxe and start digging at Quiceran's caves!"
"Apologies, your forgiving grace," Atju groveled.
"Right," Glen smacked his lips and had some more water. "Where were we? Ah! Elsanne sieges the Capital."
"Yes Hardir."
Glen read the missive and frowned. "What the hell? Martel all but lost the company!"
"Some kind of forward operation?"
"What forward operation? There are walls blocking their path. It's a plaguing siege!" Glen roared and stood up.
"Your grace knows Issir Eagle well?" Rimeros probed carefully.
Glen puffed his cheeks out. Martel had dispatched Bert Ottis to Sinya Goras, but he described the losses as 'catastrophic'. A strong wording fer sure, the worried Glen thought.
"I've never been there," he murmured and heard the noise from their guests approaching. "Who would know?"
"Master Doris Alden," Rimeros offered.
"He's Lorian," Glen grimaced. "From Regia. Regia is closer to Kaltha than Lesia right?"
"I believe the King is correct."
"Was he at the feast?" Glen probed.
"Left late last night with one of Folen's employees," Rimeros informed him.
"Is he still in the premises?" Glen insisted. "He looked too-inebriated to make it too-far."
"I shall make inquiries, Hardir," Rimeros assured him.
Glen nodded and grabbed a servant rushing to change the lightstones on the first row of the giant support columns, as he could now see the corridor running between them lit up fully. The bright, initially distant ball of light danced up and down –almost reaching the dark ceiling- and then settled over the group of officials approaching led by Jinx, who strolled ahead with her head tipped back to gaze at the witch's lightshow.
"Just fix the lightpost near the conference tables. Put the rest back in the box," he ordered the unknown Cofol –probably a new slave Iskay had purchased from the Sopat- and then added with a glance at the 'second story' half-floor balcony behind the grand throne platform. "There's enough light coming from the royal quarters. What the actual fuck is going on?"
"The princess wants the lights on, illustrious Caliph," the slave explained. "She plays hide and seek with the small wyvern."
"Um," Glen murmured. "Get Iskay for me, and bring as much alcohol as you can to serve our guests."
"We could have used that inside the caves of doom," Jinx said upon arrival. She sprinted the last few meters to the table, leaped and landed on an arsecheek sideways, then slid the length of it towards Glen, who had to burst ahead in order to get a dinner tray and a couple of wine bottles out of the way. "TA-DAH!" Jinx declared and landed in front of the grimacing Glen, with the Monarch juggling with the bottles and the laden with side dishes large tray. Stuffed with garlic mushrooms, two types of yellow cheese and thin fried potatoes.
"Gods darn it Whisper!" Glen cursed.
"Give me the tray," Jinx offered to help and Glen gave the tray to the Gish, almost depositing it on top of Jinx's pink head. The adroit Gish actually walked with the tray balanced on her head for a while, strategically sitting in a chair far enough from Glen's spot at the table. "Ah, nice," she commented tasting the wine food and Glen sighed, now fully illuminated from the dancing light ball.
"Glenavon," a weary Aelrindel sighed, feeling the weight of the long walk from the entrance like everyone else. Rimeros cleared his throat irritated with the witch's lack of decorum and unrefined behavior throughout the feast, but she caught the slip of her tongue and seized the moment adding with a radiating smile that brightened up the room even more.
Literally, the sorceress was the light ball's center of attention.
"Lord Garth," the comely sorceress said, and Glen could live with just Glenavon, better yet in a more private setting with the much more proper Glen, but he was a patient man… or a man plagued with many responsibilities at that very moment, so he opted not to say anything. "…your castle," Aelrindel purred, with the noisily munching on the fries Jinx rolling her eyes. "…is much too dark."
"You seem to find yer way in it easier than most," Glen retorted in a flirting mood -brusquely squashed, when his eyes drifted on Lith's sober face, although the Imperial Princess was habitually wearing a solemn expression, so it came as no surprise.
"I can keep the light on for you," Aelrindel offered cutely, unaffected by Lith's moods and the Gish's irksome loud crunching.
"Please do," Glen replied politely, all proper and shit.
"Lord Garth," Lith intervened, but she was interrupted by a child's happy squeal and when Glen turned around Inis jumped into his arms. So he took his daughter for a spin on the lacquered tiles of Morn Taras great hall, playing music with his mouth from the tables almost to the steps of the backlit from above throne platform and back.
No one spoke or interrupted them. Their long shadows stretched past the last two enormous engraved granite columns, reached the softly illuminated walls, fully adorned with both ancient and much-newer histories that reached the lofty ceiling many meters above. The expansive hall resonated with the sound of the King's voice and the laughter of his daughter for a little while. Vulreon, who had just come in through a side door –located to the east of the throne platform– paused to observe the Monarch spinning the giggling princess around while humming a tavern's pirate tune. Finally, a beaming Glen brought the flushed Inis-Mir back, a task that had been much simpler a year ago, and he noticed that while Jinx seemed indifferent, the two Zilan females were significantly impacted by the brief and rather sweet moment.
While Lith remained oddly rigid and unreadable, as though she was hurting, the sorceress herself appeared to have been brought to tears by this show of paternal affection. Glen knitted his thick gray brows together, shot a glance at Jinx, and the now mushroom-chewing Gish –clearly in tune with her old friend's thoughts– gave him a lewd wink.
"Let me introduce you girls formally," Glen told the two tall Zilan females. The young Monarch stood bigger and taller than them now –but not by a lot. Both Aelrindel and Lithoniela were pretty tall, much taller than Phinariel for example. "This is my daughter, Inis-Mir. Sweetheart, Princess Lithoniela you've seen before," Glen continued, made a small pause to tease the stoic Lith, and then added. "O' Baltoris."
"We salute Inis-Mir Aniculo, the Princess of Wetull," Lith told Inis formally.
"And we greet Lithoniela O' Baltoris, the Princess of Wetull," Inis replied in a serious tone, which impressed Glen.
"Well then," the King decided with a proud smile. "That was rather nice. Now, this well-illuminated lass, is Lady Aelrindel," Glen continued, pausing to remember the rest. Rimeros, who stood at a respectful distance, mouthing the elusive name to the frowned King, "O' Edlenn… ehem… right, the mistress… of Dan?"
"The Mistress and Priestess of Dan," Rimeros added stiffly, better versed in all courtly things even at a moment's notice.
Or without one.
"Lord Sulynor, rules in Neil-Dan," Aelrindel corrected the Castellan.
Well, nice blunder there mate!
"That's concerning," Rimeros retorted and stood back. Apparently the 'mistake' an attempt at extracting info from Aelrindel.
The latter action not too-difficult, Glen surmised.
Nice one, Rim my dude. Ha!
"Hardly," the sorceress fired back and then smiled, before bowing her luscious head to the watching with interest Inis-Mir. "To the heavens above our greetings, Inis-Mir of House Aniculo, Princess Heiress of Wetull. Ever be well, and rejoice," Aelrindel sang in difficult to understood Imperial. "Our thoughts and prayers, shall reach the Fair Goddess and light your path like this little star."
A curious Inis-Mir stepped forward and touched the fist-sized small gold star that elevated over the sorceress open palm. The little princess allowed it to travel on her extended arm. From the ring-adorned fingers and the bracelets of her forearm, to the dip of her elbow-joint where it poofed out of existence.
Whoa!
"The sorceress true form," Inis-Mir said evenly and Aelrindel smiled nervously. "All our judgements and most fervent of invocations are directed to the Winged God and its Servants. Greetings Sorceress Aelrindel, O' Edlenn. Priestess of Nesande. You are welcomed in my father's Palace."
"We respect Eodrass and appreciate the Princess' welcome," Aelrindel said, with Glen grimacing at his daughter's serious manner and religious verbiage. She wasn't that fervent before, and he suspected Priest Feyras had influenced her in his absence.
"Yes," Inis-Mir said still watching the uneasy Aelrindel carefully with her crimson and gold-dotted eyes. "We've seen you before, in our dreams."
Glen furrowed his brows and glanced at his daughter confused.
"You look prettier up close," Inis continued in her creepy grown-up voice, the hint of a smirk on her soft mouth, and a touch of sadness in her eyes. Two souls fighting inside that small body. The sorceress opened her mouth to thank the little princess for the unexpected compliment given her lukewarm manners, but then Inis added, "In our dream, you are dead," and froze the smile on Aelrindel's lips.
"Inis!" Glen snapped and grabbed her small arm, still rattled by what she had just blurted out yet again, but the sorceress breathed out and stopped him.
"A Seer's dream," the sorceress told Inis and the grimacing Glen, "is but a glimpse of a possible future. A pathway revealed, is a pathway not of our realm. Somewhere else it shall happen thus, but not here, not quite. Not exactly how we see it. In order to gauge where the future shall lead us one must watch a hundred… a thousand possible paths taken by our mirror counterparts, and guess her own. That thought the Seer shouldn't ever reveal to herself, because some details –or all, might change and make this future –while known- unpredictable."
"What if one does it on purpose?" Inis asked.
"Then the Gods shall know," the sorceress replied. "Would the young princess like to hear a divination? Of things to come, names and titles, her heart's matters?"
"She won't," a scowled Glen stepped in, and gestured curtly for Aelrindel to back away, which she immediately did a little surprised at his reaction. "I don't like this kind of talk at all. None of that."
"Hey," Jinx was heard from somewhere near. "What about me? I need an introduction too, darn it!" She yelled and the tensed moment washed away, with Glen gesturing for Atju to take Inis-Mir back to her quarters.
"Lady Lussiel," Glen said and noticed Aelrindel's mischievous smile, but she wasn't looking at him. The King followed the witch's eyes and saw his daughter's knitted brows at the silent exchange, before Atju took the princess' hand to lead her away.
"Martell claims he lost two thirds of his force," Glen told Jinx, who croaked and started coughing violently, spiting pieces of mushroom and fries all over the table. "Try to breathe," Glen cautioned the drowning Gish and Lith stood up, walked behind Jinx and landed an open-hand blow at her back to help get everything out.
"Who is Martell?" Aelrindel asked and before Glen could answer Ivasaar strolled to their table and took one of the many seats. He sat down and stared at Glen all serious.
"It is not an open meeting," Glen told the wyvern-rider.
"It's not a problem," Ivasaar assured him. "I have time to spare Hardir and an eagerness to get involved in the imperial matters once more."
"Right," Glen pursed his mouth annoyed he couldn't show his annoyance fully. The Monarch murmured under his breath and then sighed.
"Did he lose everyone?" Jinx asked him with a croak, shoving Lith away before the Zilan could land another blow on her back. "I knew it was bad, but not this bad!"
"Wyncall kicked the bucket," Glen read the missive. "A lot of officers, many were captured in the woods. So it's bad. Martell did not sent us a list."
"Liko?"
Glen grimaced. He had no idea, and Martell's vagueness was bothersome. "He would have told us if something terminal had happened."
"You don't sound too shocked! Crafton was killed not two months—"
"Four," Glen cut her off. "I'm well aware Whisper. I know them better than you. Especially Liko. I told Martell to keep him out of the frontline."
"As if he would have listened to him!" Jinx snapped. "Liko wanted to be like you!"
Nice one Whisper, Glen thought sourly, not wanting to think of bad stuff not an hour removed from the first good feast he had in years.
"Ha-ha," Ivasaar guffawed. "That's impossible. He's Hardir O' Fardor!"
Jinx glared at the Zilan.
"Why is he here?" She asked Glen.
"Why are you?" Ivasaar snapped and stood up.
"Sit down," Glen growled and the Zilan stared at him perturbed. "Lady Lussiel is right. Liko is an old friend. I know him since he was a kid."
"Alright," Ivasaar agreed and gave the glaring Jinx a nod. "What can we do to help?"
"We must speak with Martell's man first, your grace," Rimeros informed Glen. "The captain is looking for funds more like, and a chance at recruiting more soldiers."
"What about Liko? Why sent Bert Ottis?" Jinx insisted and Glen sucked on his teeth trying to think of a way to learn more. "Glen…"
"Lady Lussiel, address the Monarch properly," Rimeros intervened.
"Fuck off respectfully, Rimeros," Jinx shot back and Glen rubbed his forehead with a hand trying to gather his thoughts.
"Elsanne is the Issir Queen?" Aelrindel asked.
"The Issir… didn't they attack us?" Ivasaar queried and turned to look at the sorceress. "You are absolutely radiant, Lady Aelrindel."
Eh?
"I arrived just in time for the Feast," she told him with fake modesty. "Barely had time to wash my face, Sir Ivasaar."
"Lord Garth," Lith said at the distracted Glen. "You helped the Issir Queen already. We owe her nothing and her kin murdered my mother."
Lith didn't even raise her voice, but her words stayed ominously in the air for a moment.
"We don't know whether she needs more help," Rimeros noted, solidly parked in the middle of the argument. "But SETC needs Kaltha's Scalding Sea ports to anchor the 'Coin Route'."
"Can we buy out Martell's contract and pull them out? She doesn't need mercenaries for the siege," Glen asked. "Coin is always nicer, which makes this suggestion painful obviously."
"We could," Rimeros agreed. "But we don't know their situation. Martell might refuse to extricate himself from the war, if they have friends captured. Then again we could try to ransom them… with more coin."
"For fuck's sake," Glen snapped. "She's besieging a plaguing city! Elsanne should have had the upper hand here!"
"Obviously it's a military matter," Rimeros continued.
"It doesn't concern us," Lith told Glen. "Finding out what happened to Liko and the mercenaries should be your priority."
"I wasn't contemplating getting involved," Glen retorted. "But I'd like to know everyone over there is safe."
"Who is this Issir Queen fighting?" Ivasaar asked and the Castellan replied in the king's stead.
"The Khan." Rimeros signaled for a servant to bring them a map of Jelin. "SETC has send us some updated copies, your grace."
"Where is Doris?" Glen asked. "We could use their ships right now."
"They have coalesced their fleet assets in Turtle Isle," Rimeros replied. "It's not possible."
"What are they doing there?" Glen asked.
"It was in the briefing… ehem, some kind of operation," Rimeros replied after a small pause. The servant brought them a map of Jelin's coast and he unfurled it over the table. It was a large map and despite the table's size the map's edges hanged from both sides. "This is the Issir capital."
Glen stared at the drawing. "I want someone from SETC to brief us on whatever it is we're looking here. Get Fikumin involved," he told Rimeros. "I suppose Elsanne's armies have crossed the bridges there and there… this port is controlled by the Khanate?"
"It's very confusing, but yes," Rimeros replied. The Zilan appeared to be struggling with the foreign city and Glen couldn't help him as he knew even less about Jelin's geography.
"Who is Elsanne's liaison?" He asked.
"Lieutenant Adolf Faber," Rimeros replied. "Arrived in the summer. His brother Luke is adjutant to Duke Van Oord of Castalor and his father is Vice-Admiral Faber."
Gambling! Lord Faber had roared furious and Nard Molders had shrugged his shoulders with a glance at a very young Glen and the always stoic Sir Emerson.
Seven years in the past.
'We will meet again hopefully,' Primus Molders had told them back in Castalor.
It wasn't meant to be.
Not how good ole Molders had envisioned it, a frowned Glen thought. Through no fault of his. He didn't have the best of memories from his encounter with the stiff and back then rather fat, Vice Admiral.
"I know the name," Glen murmured, crooking his mouth. "Bring him here, so I can speak with him in person. Rimeros, I'm still waiting for Doris Alden's input also. Make it happen. This not-a-meeting is adjourned until we know more," he finished, his eyes on the forested coast of Kaltha and its capital.
God damn it Elsanne, he thought worried, as his instincts were telling him the situation might spiral out of control. Finish this or stand down.
The last thing he wanted was starting another fight in Jelin, on top of the trouble he already had with Lesia and the Bank's fleets.
Aelrindel had pulled Jinx to the furthest corner of the conference table to discuss a 'matter of a delicate nature', following Ivasaar's departure to find Memphes and check whether Uvrycres had come back with Rikkusa or not. Glen no longer felt concerned about the two wyverns meeting; after weeks of internal dread, he had chosen to rely on the beastly instincts of his exotic companion.
The two wyverns aren't going to fight fool, they are going to fuck! Glen told himself in Gimoss' taunting voice, whilst he listened to Rimeros explaining the situation to a much-disheveled Doris Alden. The Castellan was bringing the Regia noble to the table, where Lithoniela still stared at a point on the map of the Shallow Sea, as if she was perceiving a graveyard, and Inis-Mir watched her father 'hidden' behind the rails of the stairs.
Glen whistled the earlier tune to his daughter and she giggled, such a happy sound -it brought tears to his eyes. He'd heard the same tune again in Baltoris Port the previous week, hummed by the pirates on Valydra's rented ship –now greatly changed from the original shanty of his youth, the sailors used to sing in Shroudcoast's only tavern.
Fourteen Menfolk covered in dawn's cloak
Carried forty tons of the King's gold,
Out of the mighty Saracen's cargo hold…
The song giving a sort of answer as to where all that coin had disappeared to years before. A treasure map hidden inside a song. Foxy Leona. Glen raised an arm to wave at Inis, who waved back under the sullen Iskay's watch and then Doris Alden who was heading for the table interrupted the King's whistling.
"Princess Lithoniela O' Baltoris," Rimeros said formally, as the shrewd Zilan official had reached first the other end of the one Glen was sitting, "Master Doris Alden, of Aegium. A Director in South Eplas Trading Company."
Doris slammed on the wagon's metaphorical brakes and went for a sharp curtsy that crackled his waist at the sight of the aloof Zilan female. "Princess, it is with great pleasure we finally meet you!" the former Duke proclaimed in a booming, noble tone and pretty good Imperial for the less than two years he'd been with them.
He then attempted to step closer –given that Glen and Lith were seated about ten meters away– but was interrupted by the witch's nearby hearty chuckle. He turned to look at the gorgeously highlighted sorceress, the sight of the swirling ball above her head causing the Lorian to collide painfully with the edge of the table. The sharp end hitting the man's hip bone. "Blast the stadium's horn! My apologies, princess," Doris quickly said, his face contorted in a serious grimace. "I was momentarily distracted for a very good reason!"
"The dancing light Master Doris? Because you've seen the Gish before," Rimeros queried at the flushed at the blunder former Duke still trying to recover and the latter snorted.
"I wish! Goodness me, thought I saw the Goddess!" Doris uttered a brave confession and Glen nodded, returning his eyes on the unlikely couple of exotic females talking in secret.
Of sorts, given Voron's Hall great acoustics.
"What you did was extremely unselfish," Aelrindel was telling Jinx. "Know that it moved me Gish for I did not expect such kindness."
"You are a Lorian noble?" Lithoniela asked the trying to get back his bearings Doris and Glen was also drawn to this conversation happening at a parallel time.
"Aye. I'm from Regia, your grace."
"Lorians are brass, bigoted and very stubborn people," Lithoniela noted. "Yet you sound tolerably cultured."
"Our people come in all creeds and manners. A shade can cool only so many, which is why we build more of them, Tacitus writes," Doris assured her. "My friend Laius is even more cultured than myself."
Doris is a great diplomat, Glen decided and listened to the Gish's reply.
"Aha. You want forgiveness? Try not to hurt my friends henceforth," Jinx told Aelrindel.
"Let me tell you a secret you don't know," the sorceress whispered stooping over her head. "What I did to you—"
Jinx's arm snapped upwards to deliver a slap on the witch's face cutting her off –at a crucial moment in Glen's humble opinion, but Aelrindel snatched it showing extremely fast reflexes per all Elderbloods… Elderborn, Glen corrected himself, only to be proven wrong in a moment's notice, as Jinx's lightning-fast other hand caught Aelrindel so hard on the other cheek, the sorceress head twisted around and her magic light went out. The sound of the slap, reverberated inside the massive hall and hid the steps of the approaching officer of the watch, who came out of the corridor's pure darkness.
A bandaged Cofol with fancy clothes and armour following after him, with the slavers tattoo carved on his right forearm, followed by a pair of soldiers of fortune –at the very best, very-successful bounty hunters or elite thugs -at the very least. A pale-as-death also bandaged Zilan that reminded him of Larn and a stout Lorian. Behind them, a dirty-clothed strange short figure appeared limping and carrying a very large staff on top of two heavy packed bags.
"The gold Priestess came," a haunted Inis was heard saying from the stairs thirty meters away, and the stunned at her perception Glen also recognized the rigid stare on the injured, half-painted gold, half-painted-white face of the short-statured Cofol female coming towards the four conference tables, after the officer and her strange group of companions.
"Ascael! Lead them away," Rimeros barked at the Zilan palace guard and the Hoplite crooked his jaw coming to attention. "The Monarch shan't receive any more visitors tonight!"
"The Monarch shall receive her," an austere Glen stopped his Castellan's orders abruptly, but clear enough for anyone to listen and stood up from his seat, the stunned from the Gish's sneaky blow sorceress turning her large gleaming eyes on the weary Nina Musha perplexed. "For Priestess Akira came from very far at my behest," Glen added with a warm smile to ease the young Cofol's well-concealed nervousness. The King's words carved into law upon leaving his mouth by Vulreon. "And she is welcomed."