A Dark Room, Lit by a Singular Magelight
Savant sat in a cold wood chair, facing a small table. A silver blue-white light hovered above it, giving depth to the darkness around him. At the far edge, he could make out a door. But it wasn’t anything he paid much attention to. He never did.
He heard footsteps behind him, and a hand gently touched his shoulder. He did his best to suppress the shudder.
“Check her again.” Came an authoritative voice, the tone serious, no-nonsense, feminine.
Savant swallowed hard and closed his eyes. It was a few minutes of stillness before he spoke in a soft, near angelic voice.
“She is the same as last, perhaps even more hungry, more desirous. She covets what is below the waves. Something powerful.”A pause, before there was a satisfied breath, and he felt the hand on his shoulder remove itself. More footsteps, the clink of armour, and he caught the curl of long, silver hair.
“What on earth could she possibly want? What does it mean for this kingdom?” The mysterious feminine voice spoke again, shadow trailing around the boy in a circle.
Savant was quiet for a long moment, having no answers for her. But his own burning questions rested in his mind, and he spoke.
“How much longer…?”The shadowy figure lifted her head, before turning to Savant. There was displeasure in her voice.
“As long as it takes.”Savant whimpered.
“Please. It's been twelve long years. Why don't you just take her and leave it at that?”There was a pause, before the woman placed two hands on the wooden table and leaned in, revealing a masked face, black clad armor and white tresses. Valor Teardrop of The Clandestine herself, gracing his humble chambers.
“Because Evelyn Keove is hard to corner. Like a snake, she'll slip through the fingers with a direct, uncivilized approach.”She leaned back, hands clasping behind her back.
“No. This requires tact. An elven breed of patience.”Her head turned to the side.
“And it requires intel.”She knelt down beside Savant, reaching out and gently,
ever so gently tucking a strand of his white hair behind an ear.
“Savy, you've seen the protege student, the Lilim. Tell me, what is in her heart?”Savant closed his eyes again, resisting the urge to shiver, focusing for a moment. His eyes opened, staring at Valor.
“She desires power to control. A power that shines.” He said.
”A power that shines…” Valor parroted back, standing once more. She placed a thoughtful finger on her masked chin.
“Yes… Yes that will work nicely.”She was already moving for the door, when she turned back briefly.
“Do get comfy. We will be lingering here for some time…”Before she left, the magelight vanishing in a puff of light with her. In the pitch darkness, Savant lowered his head, and softly sighed.
Hathforth Castle, Arcane Wing, Hearthfire Gala
@LunarParadox,
@Izurich
Lord Blackthorne and Lady Tearmoon toured the Arcane wing, the master teaching his new apprentice all she would need to know to strive in her new calling. As they opened the door to Lady Tearmoon’s private quarters, something strange, near-mystical, happened.
A wind from behind the two of them blew strongly, throwing the door wide open. A light shone, near-blinding, illuminating the room in magelight. It flashed for but a moment, before fading. And in the room, a singular spirit wisp swirled on spot, before bouncing along the floor to greet Lady Tearmoon.
The spirit wisp seemed to hover a moment, ensuring it had received the attention of Lady Tearmoon and Lord Blackthorne, before it darted over to the window. Curiously enough, the window had a different
texture to it. It appeared as wavy glass, with crosses of metal in its structure. But a long stare would reveal the surface appeared to fluctuate, like a ripple over a still pool of water. If one would stick their hand through it, the window would, in fact, act like the surface tension of water, allowing objects and people to pass through it with ease.
The spirit wisp would watch to see if the two mages were still watching, before it would duck through the window, and down a flight of light-encased stairs that led down into the Hathforth Castle’s spacious gardens.
In the gardens,
a single woman sat on a wooden chair, sword planted in the earth, her palms and chin resting upon the pommel. Her masked face hid a waiting smile as she sat there patiently.
Hathforth Castle, Throne Room, The Hearthfire Gala, Near the Banquet Table
@Irradiant,
@Psyker Landshark
”I have no idea what you could mean. Surely, this is the gold-touch wine speaking, my friend.“
“Why you-” Sev’s face immediately darkened, and he wished he hadn't checked his weapons at the door.
He glanced at Duchess Agustria, then back at Duke Rhinecliff, his fury growing by the minute.
“You’re just gonna blow me off then, huh? You know I’m right!” He gritted his teeth, then staggered toward him, hand reaching out to try and grab the duke’s collar.
“You can’t ignore me-”Before another voice called out.
Duchess Bastille approached Sev, and his hand dropped from reaching towards the duke, instead turing his hateful gaze on her.
“Pompous, arrogant, full of herself.” He muttered.
"As a warrior yourself, surely you realize this, no?"
He watched her gaze darken, and his muttering died out. The imposing woman almost seemed to tower over him, despite their similarities in height. He tried to keep his apprehension off his face, swaying on his feet as he felt the liquid gold in his veins. The liquid gold that emboldened his words and actions, for better or worse. That helped keep his apprehension caged.
"I implore you to clash with me. Speak to me in a way only a warrior can understand. That I can understand."
Sev plucked the sword out of the air as it sailed towards him, his prowess still somewhat sharp despite the alcohol in his system. He glanced at the decorative blade, before his burning eyes landed on Duchess Bastille. She dared challenge him, when he and his people prided themselves in the sword?
But before he could respond, Lady Haliel interjected.
"Duchess Bastille, perhaps you ought to sweeten the pot a little. Say, allowing the crown to take custody of the Duke should you prove victorious? These are rather serious accusations he's making, and I'm quite certain that many people would care to have their names cleared of this slander."
For whatever reason, as his eyes darted to the elven maiden, he felt a shiver trickle down his spine. His eyes narrowed.
“You vile araecon*, you have no business interfering. Know your place!”The Wizard Queen was calm, quiet, even amused, through Duke Willowsteel’s tantrum. But the moment he dirtied his mouth with
her lady, her eyes narrowed.
“Duke Willowsteel.”She called him, laziness in her voice as her burning white eyes stared through him.
“You will address my lady-in-waiting with respect when you speak to her.”A sigh, before the Wizard Queen gently lifted her head from where it had rested on her palm. Her eyes glanced over the scene, playing in between Duchess Bastille and Duke Willowsteel.
“A duel sounds favourable. Entertain us on this Hearthfire eve. If Duke Willowsteel loses, I will take custody of him… immediately.”Obediently, the floor cleared in the center of the hall, nobles giving the two duelists a wide birth. Duke WIllowsteel, now visibly sweating, clutched his sword frantically in his hand as he situated himself on one side of the clearing, opposite of the duchess.
“You’re in it thick with Duke Rhinecliff, aren’t you? What are you planning…?” He growled out.
“Not that it matters… I won’t let you win. I’m not going to jail!”A deep breath, a slight sway, before the duke’s body tensed, and his cape billowed as he launched himself forward, aiming for a diagonal strike downward across the duchess’ arms and chest.
*Araecon - A term used by the Nordorians to describe people who use magic, usually in a derogatory manner.
Hathforth Castle, Throne Room, The Hearthfire Gala, Watching the Duel
@Click This,
@Psyker Landshark,
@Donut Look Now
Duke Grimhand’s heart warmed during his interaction with Duckess Bastille. Fierce, capable. That’s what he saw every time he talked with her. Running a hand over his beard, he nodded to himself as he watched her confront that brat, Duke Willowsteel.
Yes, opening up trade with Agrovia, and empowering their neighbours, was one of the best moves his people at Rockhold ever did. A powerful and grateful ally, one whom he considered a friend, could mean the difference between being utterly crushed by an oppressive empire, or… maybe pursuing a brighter future.
That’s not to say Rockhold didn’t have ties with the other dukes and duchesses here. Though he may have been a renowned recluse, he got along well with most cities in Arrowfell. Well, save for Nordor and Aethera.
His focus, intrigued by Duke Willowsteel’s statement, fell on Duke Rhinecliff. If there were to be rebellion, this man would be the most likely out of all the cities to lead it. The people loved him. He actually heard of a small minority migrating from Hathforth to Odonfield after the Wizard Queen began laying down heavy taxes and an oppressive atmosphere within the city.
So, as the crowd watched on, he moved to stand beside Duke Rhinecliff and Duchess Agustria, shifting gently in his golden shoulder plates as he placed a hand on his chin.
He side-eyed Duke Rhinecliff.
“Sorry lot, Duke Willowsteel. The man has a good heart, but it’s been hard, isolated as he is at the edges of the province, and with no access to a port. The lack of magic means they do even menial tasks by hand, and that-” He sighed a rumbling sigh.
“-can take a toll on a man’s patience.”He leaned over slightly, catching Duchess Agustria's face.
”I've heard the parties in your part of the province rival even that of the Queen, is that right?”Before he tried a warm smile, turning to between Duchess Agustria and Duke Rhinecliff.
“I trust things are more, how can I put it… harmonious, in your cities…?”Meanwhile, closer to the throne, Duchess Ilijor smoothed out the wispy-thin fabrics of her beaded and embroidered dress. Only the finest elven make, elegant but not flashy. Nay, flashy was for the Queen and her closet confidants.
She was a bit disappointed when Lord Blackthorne left the throne room to attend to his new apprentice - she wanted to speak with him more. Alas, he was a busy lord, much like her Vulluin.
So, her gaze played across the swirl of faces surrounding the upcoming duel, holding back her disdain for open fighting, and that oaf Duke Willowsteel. At least someone was putting him in that place. And, despite being neutral with Agrovia, she could appreciate the effort Duchess Bastille was putting into the duke before the Wizard Queen would ultimately punish him. That little show, she would eagerly stay for.
Someone shared her sentiment, and Nephinae watched with cool eyes as Lady Haliel spoke up, speaking
exactly what was on her mind. A gentle smile on her face, Nephinae moved closer, standing beside Lady Haliel.
She swirled her glass as she spoke, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“You speak with more sense than half the nobles in this hall, Lady Haliel. Not many can say the same.”She took a sip of her wine, watching the duel begin. After a moment, her head tilted softly, and she smiled at Lady Haliel.
“Does ambassador work interest you, Lady Haliel. I’d love to have you as a part of my ministry in Aethera as an ambassador of Hathforth. I’m sure the Queen would be all for it.”
Odonfield, Duke of Rhinecliff's Estate
@ERode,
@Click This
“Raise your heads, Asteria, Mene, and join the table.”
There were short intakes of air from the twins and heads were lifted. Mene stared wordlessly, while Asteria whimpered under breath, desperately trying to hold back relieved tears.
Silent as the grave, the twins took their respective seats, eyes downcast like the caught kids they were.
Duke Rhinecliff didn't even
scold them. Never mind kill them. Asteria shook her head, staring at the tea he poured her. The world didn't deserve a kind-hearted duke like this. She was certain of it.
“So, how has Hathforth been of late? I've not yet opportunity to make it out there myself, but I hope that the taxes have been put to good use?”
“The Queen has made some effort to restore the city. It’s not yet to the former glory that it was previously, but I would say that the city is well on its way there. And what of Odenfield? It has been some time for me, too. The architecture of your city is always a delight to behold.”
Asteria sat there quietly, lips pursing. Eyes on her hands clenching the fabric of her dress. A breath, and her eyes darted to Mene, who had a
‘you'd better shut up’ look to his face.
Asteria frowned, trying to convey meaning without words, before Mene picked up her meaning, and said in a harsh tone,
“No.”“He needs to know. He deserves that, at least.” Asteria said in response, before shyly side-eyeing Duke Rhinecliff.
Mene's gaze dropped, before Asteria straightened her back a bit, and spoke up.
“You haven't punished us, to which I'm grateful. I heard taxes aren't put into rebuilding the city much. No, the taxes are repurposed for something else. Calls to join the royal guard have been made, and to join the army. It is easy to see where most of the tax money goes if one looks at the forts surrounding Hathforth…”
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