These are Strange Days (Laroa, Malkaer)

[Aqua]

TS = 1st brightening of winter, after Laroa's meeting with the nobles

The two messengers and Malkaer reappeared in front of the Final Tower. It had been largely unused in recent times, but now was fully operational once more as the seat of government. It was made of pure white marble, punctuated at intervals by glittering windows, and it soared five hundred meters in the air, at least twice the height of anything else in the city. The simple fact that it existed represented an astounding architectural feat, and the beauty of its serene, classic lines simply redoubled this impression.

The messengers entered through a truly massive set of doors carved out of marble, and walked into the enormous atrium, the roof of which was several stories overhead. A sweeping staircase began at the far end of the room, and followed the contours of the walls until it disappeared from view. A large fountain in the atrium's center threw water high in the air; it cascaded down in hypnotizing patterns.

Two guards were posted at the staircase. In front of them was a desk, which was occupied by an older male Esh'lahier whose silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He had an unusually severe expression on his face for one of this city, but upon seeing the messengers and Malkaer, it softened somewhat.

"Vedui. We are most pleased you have arrived. Shall I show you upstairs?"

[Malkaer Andares]

While Malkaer was somewhat used to teleportation, his bodyguard* was less so and had to overcome his dizziness before proceeding. The great tower was a magnificent sight. Malkaer was granted an unending line of marble when he looked up from the base of the structure. Those who had created the building had intended to join the gods in the sky. Perhaps the city was finally paying for their hubris.

They all seemed very pleased that he was here; perhaps a bit too pleased, but Malkaer was prepared to play along. He was determined to seize whichever opportunity arose. “Vedui.” Nodding the pale elf gestured the guard to lead the way. “Who will I meet?” He asked to prepare himself.



* oocI will edit him out if he cannot come along

[Aqua]

The messengers withdrew, and the desk clerk led the way up the sweeping rank of stairs. Two floors or so up, he stopped at a landing and opened a door. Inside the door was a platform, onto which the desk clerk stepped. He motioned for Malkaer and the bodyguard to join him.

"A most ingenious device, this," the man said. "A sort of arcanic lift, enchanted to allow one to be transported quickly from the top of the tower to the bottom, or the other way around." And indeed, as soon as all were aboard, the platform began moving upward.

"Queen Laroa," the man said in response to Malkaer's question. "She wishes to speak with you, and so we're on our way to the new throne room." As if on cue, the platform stopped moving directly in front of another door, which the man opened. There was a hallway there, and on the other side were a pair of massive doors. The man opened these too, and stepped inside.

The Throne Room was large, though its decoration was spartan, all polished stone and understated gold accents. A truly impressive window, no doubt created through some arcanic means, dominated one wall, and it showed that they were at least a thousand meters in the air. The throne was on the other side of the room, and it was in that direction that the man called out:

"Your majesty, this is Lord Malkaer Andares."

[Malkaer Andares]

“Remarkable…”, Malkaer mumbled as he stepped on the platform, Verak following in his step. As the lift began to move, the nobleman braced himself, but still found the swift ascension an uncomfortable experience. When the elevator finally arrived on the level of the throne room it felt as if his stomach was taking the stairs, and thus still several hundred metres under its proper place.

Given the nobleman knew next to nothing of the queen of Ethgan’tor, there was little to prepare. With a confident stride Malkaer entered the throne room. He bowed deeply for the young queen, but not as long as he had done for the Regent of the Empire. “Majesty.”

Before Laroa stood a mature adult shadow elf. His physique was unremarkable; Malkaer’s length was average, his grey hair common among their kind. He was certainly not a handsome example of their race as two scars sired his face: a short one on his cheekbone under the left eye, which was hardly noticeable compared to the larger one. Caused by the slash of a dagger, a large vertical scar extended from the pale elf’s forehead, over the left eye, until the chin.

Nor was his attire remarkable, though that had partly to do with being dragged over to the meeting in an instance. He wore a grey robe and thin white gloves of silk. The only piece of jewelry was a silver signet ring of House Andares. What was remarkable about the man was the power of character which seemed to emanate from him.

[Laroa Linalantava]

The woman that was sitting on the throne was tall and slender. She appeared to be somewhere between two and three hundred ordinations of age. Most would have called her beautiful, but hers was not the delicate, ethereal beauty that humans commonly associated with elves. She was strong rather than fragile, powerful. Hers was the beauty of one of the large cats that lived in the jungle, dangerous predators. Her skin was as white as the snow, and her hair was silver, worn in an updo. Her dress was white as well, the elvish color of mourning, as if there was somebody she’d lost recently, a simple, floor length silk dress, astonishingly modest for a woman of her past. She wore a veil of fine white lace as well, but it was pulled back now.

The only things of color about her person were her eyes. They were the color of wine. Sometimes, when the light fell into them, they almost appeared to be like the eyes of a vysstichi, bright red, the side effect of a spell rather than her mother taking a man of impure blood into her bed. Her family was one of the purest. Her eyes had once been a more normal purple, but a man had blinded her, and the healing spell had left them like this. They were sensitive to the light as well, as if there were really something of a vysstichi about her, but she’d learned to hide that weakness, had learned to pretend that she wasn’t in any pain. She’d learned other things as well, had learned to pretend that she was just like them, just like the people around her, went to the temples of Ethgan’tor, as if Jorel had been just a dream.

“I welcome you to Ethgan’tor, Lord Andares.” She rose from the throne as he bowed to her. “Please come closer. There is much we have to discuss. Ethgan’tor is in great danger, and we need your help.” The expression on her face was cool, not unfriendly, but cool, maybe with a hint of sadness, befitting of the situation. Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment longer, trying to judge him, appraise him. She knew what he was, that he had something they needed, but she didn’t know who he was, who the man Malkaer Andares was, what his motives were, and how loyal he still was to Ethgan’tor after having served the Aelyrian Empire for so long.

[Malkaer Andares]

These bloodred eyes… they were unnatural. Malkaer cast his eyes downward as she set her gaze on him. To his own surprise a slight shiver went down his spine. During his time amongst the self-made men of the new Imperial elite he had forgotten what true regality was like. Those with royal blood were untouchable in a way. While the Princess of Linalantava had been a long time in the Empire, she had not lost this regal quality.

The Imperial lord approached readily when she called him closer, unwilling to reveal his insecurity. When he spoke this feeling waned however, as the politician took over. “My House and I will of course do everything within our power to aid Ethgan’tor, Your Majesty. I was informed the White City has an acute crisis regarding its food supply?” The question was posed tentatively, as though Malkaer did not completely believe he would be summoned for such a mundane matter.

[Laroa Linalantava]

„Not a simple food crisis“, she corrected him. “We wouldn’t have called you for such a reason. I am aware that you have obligations to the Aelyrian Empire that you need to fullfill. I would not keep you from them if the situation weren’t dire. If our problem were as simple as a crisis regarding our food supply, we would have been able to solve it on our own. But it’s more, Lord Andares, it’s so much more. The fate of Ethgan’tor itself is at stake, the survival of its people.”

Even if she spoke of the end of Ethgan’tor her voice was still calm, neutral, carefully polite. To her showing her emotions was not a good idea. It was a sign of weakness that could be exploited. Emotions kept you from thinking carefully, they made it heard to concentrate, to plan. They were a luxury that she could not afford.

Only her eyes betrayed a little of her thoughts. She was not indifferent, that she cared. Ethgan’tor was all she had now after having lost her power, her family. Ethgan’tor was her life. Without it she would cease to exist.

“We have had four eras of drought, Lord Andares. We have had some underground trade with Mystique, but it is not enough. We have tried to find out what caused the drought, but it is a mystery. The talisman that controls the barrier that is protecting Ethgan’tor has disappeared. Everything is weakening. The Council has decided to create a barrier through the forest and allow controlled trade with the Aelyrian Empire, that it is better to act now that we still have some manner of pride left, to take matters in our own hands rather than wait for the Empire to do something.”

“I have been told that you have the most experience in dealing with the Empire. I need you. Will you help your people? Will you help and save Ethgan’tor and advise me?”

[Malkaer Andares]

Crises were never easy to solve, or they would not be called so, the esh’lahier thought. A food crisis was all the more dangerous for the established order, but apparently that was not the only concern of the city. From the Queen’s words Malkaer could not determine exactly what troubled Ethgan’tor. Protective barriers, a talisman. The pale elf, who had not even been born in the White City knew next to nothing of its defense mechanisms. He was only taught never to speak of Ethgan’tor to non-esh’lahier, a promise which he had always kept. Indeed were it not for his intervention the former Governor of Lauryl or the Kestor Imperatis of the province might have been banging on the gates of the city eras ago.

“Take matters into our own hands?” The nobleman inquired carefully. He then nodded. “Other than perhaps my cousin Moranor, but he has nigh become a lightborn, I consider myself the most knowledgeable of Aelyrian politics of our kin, Your Highness.” Confident of himself, Malkaer said it without much humility and he repeated his vow of support.

[Laroa Linalantava]

„Take matters into our own hands“, she confirmed. “If we act now we can still approach them from a position of relative strength. We can still approach them on our own terms, but with each passing brightening we grow weaker. We must act now before the Empire comes knocking on our door and starts making demands. This is – as I have already told you – where you came into play, Lord Andares. My experience with your government is severely limited. I lived outside for a little while, but I know next to nothing about Imperial politics.”

She’d lived among vysstichi and necromancers. She probably knew how their society worked better than anybody else in the White City, but that knowledge would not be of any use now. It would only hurt her. They’d condemn her for it. Her old allies had to be left out of this. Wasn’t it ironic? That she knew people who might be of some use, but that she was forced to ignore them, that she had to forget all about her old life, that she trusted them more than the Aelyrian government?

“Tell me, Lord Andares, how well do you know the one that is called Milo L’Evienne? What does he know about Ethgan’tor and our kind and how would he react if he found out what is happening to our city?” She’d heard many things about him, conflicting things. Some said he was a decent regent, others called him a tyrant. She wasn’t willing to trust anybody. Humans, they didn’t really understand the Esh’lahier and Ethgan’tor. They were born and died within the blink of an eye and never realized what really mattered in this life.

As Malkaer mentioned that his cousin had nigh become a lightborn, she asked, “And what about you, Lord Andares? Are you still an Esh’lahier at heart?” She almost made the question sound casual even though it was one of the more important ones she had yet asked. After all this time, how faithful was he to the mother city of the Esh’lahier and its queen?

[Malkaer Andares]

“These are many questions at once, my Queen”, Malkaer replied with a slight smile, growing into a role he was quite accustomed to: that of the all-knowing advisor. He was surprised that she showed so much weakness herself by admitting knowing nothing about Imperial politics, but perhaps she was merely testing him.

“I met L’Evienne on a few occasions. He is very different from Aelyria’s past rulers, like the de Lylles. He is a commoner who steadily climbed the ranks of the Imperial bureaucracy based on merit rather birth, though he married well. He therefore has an ideology that is very different from the old ruling elite. The fact that he has managed to hold on to his office during this turbulent period in Aelyrian politics shows his political skill. Under his Regency there has been a slight push towards centralization, but the Regent is far from controlling everything. There are powerful institutions and people over which he has very limited control. Furthermore, the response of Imperial authorities to several great crises in the Empire has been weak.”

“It is difficult to ascertain how much the Imperial government knows about Ethgan’tor, but the worst should be expected. The trouble in Mystique a few eras ago arose many sleeping dogs, amongst which Imperial army officers.” Malkaer paused for a moment and thought back of his time in Ethgan’tor then. “May I ask how the Grey Circle was removed, Your Highness?” After being answered, or being refused answer, the speaker would continue with his main thread.

“It is also difficult to predict the Empire’s foreign policy versus Ethgan’tor, because the Chancellor’s office has seen little to no activity for the past eras. I have not heard anything about the mission that was sent to N’danosh for example. The Empire is so caught up in its domestic affairs it does not seem to follow an active, coherent doctrine for foreign policy. Not that is capable of it in the foreseeable future, certain circles within the Imperial army would probably want to add Ethgan’tor to the Empire by force. I do not believe Milo L’Evienne would ever support an armed expedition without exploring all diplomatic options.”

“He might help Ethgan’tor”, Malkaer estimated, “but at a cost. The cost of true freedom. Your Highness believes time is against Ethgan’tor and in that case taking matters into our own hands is indeed the best course. I must ask though what vision Your Highness has about the future of relations between Aelyria and Ethgan’tor.”