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As Gray and Cold As Stone - Part 6a: Love at First Sight
“Quintus, have you ever thought of joining the Mighty Oak?” asked Nicia with a smile. “We could use a man with your experience.”
Quintus smiled. “You are very kind, lady val’Dellenov, but my first love is my legion. Did I mention the time when we took on the Nierites in Ventaka? We were outnumbered…”
Ilmarė’s keen hearing picked up on the conversation from across the room. She was struggling to keep focused on the idiots before her.
“That is SO fascinating!” said Roderick, staring not quite into her eyes. “I’ve always wondered about the Elorii culture.”
“Yes,” said Brendis, one of Roderick’s pack. Or as Ilmarė thought of him, Idiot Number Four. “Tell us more, dear lady.”
Ilmarė patted Roderick’s arm. The boy’s eyes lit up at the touch. “Enough about me. Tell me more about you,” she said.
“Oh, nothing nearly as exciting as you,” said Roderick. “Do all elorii have purple hair as beautiful as yours?”
Ilmarė smirked. This was too easy. “Sometimes I’m not sure which color is my original hair,” she said, twirling one silvery curl around her finger. “But yes, it’s my natural color.”
The constant murmur of conversation grew suddenly louder near the main entrance to the villa. Then it abruptly fell silent.
The majordomo’s voice rang out to announce the arrival of another group. “The Light of the World, by the grace of the Pantheon, Emperor of Coryan, Calsestus val’Assante!”
The assembled worthies began to bow before the Emperor—the Milandisians not quite so deeply as the Coryani—and Ilmarė finally got a look at the most powerful man in the Empire. Ilmarė bowed about as deeply as the Milandisians.
Calsestus was perhaps forty years old, dressed in a purple toga with intricate gold trim. He wore a benevolent and slightly smug smile as he surveyed the assembled guests.
“Her Majesty, Queen Alezha,” shouted the majordomo. Upon his right arm, moving with an almost catlike grace, was a petite and stunningly beautiful woman with dusky skin, night black hair and deep amber eyes. A small but ornate tiara nestled with her long hair, set with emeralds that matched the green silk of her dress.
“Lady Verina val’Sheem!” On the Emperor’s left arm was another beautiful black haired woman. This one was taller than Alezha, with the olive skin of a Cafelan and the steel gray eyes of a Val.
“Lady Aconia val’Dellenov!” Walking a pace behind the Emperor was a third woman, also breathtaking in appearance. She was the tallest of the tree, and her brown hair curled in ringlets around her face.
As the Emperor and his consorts entered the courtyard, a dozen guards, courtiers and servants filed in afterwards.
Roderick and his boys openly gaped at the crowd and in particular the consorts. Ilmarė cleared her throat. She moved from Roderick to Brendis’ arm and began to steer him towards Quintus. “Tell me more about your homeland,” she said. “I find it interesting.”
She didn’t even know where the young fool came from.
They came face to face with Quintus. The legionnaire’s expression registered surprise and then a flicker of something else. Was it jealousy? Ilmarė smiled sweetly at him.
“Hello, Quintus. I’d like you to meet my new friend…”
The Emperor passed by them. The whole party paused for a moment. Quintus, who was in mid-gesture as he spoke to the other generals, froze in place. Then he immediately bowed low.
Calsestus seemed alternately amused and satisfied by the gesture. “We will be watching your progress carefully, Quintus Aurelius Ignatius of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.” Then he moved on.
”Osalian help us,” said Ilmarė, lifting a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. “We’ll never hear the end of this.”
“Quintus, have you ever thought of joining the Mighty Oak?” asked Nicia with a smile. “We could use a man with your experience.”
Quintus smiled. “You are very kind, lady val’Dellenov, but my first love is my legion. Did I mention the time when we took on the Nierites in Ventaka? We were outnumbered…”
Ilmarė’s keen hearing picked up on the conversation from across the room. She was struggling to keep focused on the idiots before her.
“That is SO fascinating!” said Roderick, staring not quite into her eyes. “I’ve always wondered about the Elorii culture.”
“Yes,” said Brendis, one of Roderick’s pack. Or as Ilmarė thought of him, Idiot Number Four. “Tell us more, dear lady.”
Ilmarė patted Roderick’s arm. The boy’s eyes lit up at the touch. “Enough about me. Tell me more about you,” she said.
“Oh, nothing nearly as exciting as you,” said Roderick. “Do all elorii have purple hair as beautiful as yours?”
Ilmarė smirked. This was too easy. “Sometimes I’m not sure which color is my original hair,” she said, twirling one silvery curl around her finger. “But yes, it’s my natural color.”
The constant murmur of conversation grew suddenly louder near the main entrance to the villa. Then it abruptly fell silent.
The majordomo’s voice rang out to announce the arrival of another group. “The Light of the World, by the grace of the Pantheon, Emperor of Coryan, Calsestus val’Assante!”
The assembled worthies began to bow before the Emperor—the Milandisians not quite so deeply as the Coryani—and Ilmarė finally got a look at the most powerful man in the Empire. Ilmarė bowed about as deeply as the Milandisians.
Calsestus was perhaps forty years old, dressed in a purple toga with intricate gold trim. He wore a benevolent and slightly smug smile as he surveyed the assembled guests.
“Her Majesty, Queen Alezha,” shouted the majordomo. Upon his right arm, moving with an almost catlike grace, was a petite and stunningly beautiful woman with dusky skin, night black hair and deep amber eyes. A small but ornate tiara nestled with her long hair, set with emeralds that matched the green silk of her dress.
“Lady Verina val’Sheem!” On the Emperor’s left arm was another beautiful black haired woman. This one was taller than Alezha, with the olive skin of a Cafelan and the steel gray eyes of a Val.
“Lady Aconia val’Dellenov!” Walking a pace behind the Emperor was a third woman, also breathtaking in appearance. She was the tallest of the tree, and her brown hair curled in ringlets around her face.
As the Emperor and his consorts entered the courtyard, a dozen guards, courtiers and servants filed in afterwards.
Roderick and his boys openly gaped at the crowd and in particular the consorts. Ilmarė cleared her throat. She moved from Roderick to Brendis’ arm and began to steer him towards Quintus. “Tell me more about your homeland,” she said. “I find it interesting.”
She didn’t even know where the young fool came from.
They came face to face with Quintus. The legionnaire’s expression registered surprise and then a flicker of something else. Was it jealousy? Ilmarė smiled sweetly at him.
“Hello, Quintus. I’d like you to meet my new friend…”
The Emperor passed by them. The whole party paused for a moment. Quintus, who was in mid-gesture as he spoke to the other generals, froze in place. Then he immediately bowed low.
Calsestus seemed alternately amused and satisfied by the gesture. “We will be watching your progress carefully, Quintus Aurelius Ignatius of the Legion of the Triumphant Rays of the Invisible Sun.” Then he moved on.
”Osalian help us,” said Ilmarė, lifting a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. “We’ll never hear the end of this.”