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<blockquote data-quote="Delemental" data-source="post: 5059822" data-attributes="member: 5203"><p><strong>Blood of the Dragons</strong></p><p></p><p>Okay, to make up for the lack of recent updates, this one's going to be a bit longer than usual.</p><p></p><p>--------------------------------------</p><p></p><p> Nearly two weeks passed before the remainder of the Circle took their leave of Petgrana. There was a last attempt to try and locate Lenn, but when the search came up empty, they had to conclude that the Lunar had encountered others of his kind, and had been taken under their protection. Luc was offered the chance to remain in the village, but he decided to continue traveling with the Solars, so that he could continue his training in both the arts of war and stealth.</p><p></p><p> Two days before their departure, however, Kaliel was approached by Rutendo. “With your permission, I would like to accompany you to Lynnisbrook,” the Fire Dragon said, “so that I may be by my mother’s side.”</p><p></p><p> “Are you certain it is wise to leave Petgrana?” Kaliel asked.</p><p></p><p> “I have been training someone to take my place as War Leader,” he replied. “And I have also come to recognize something which I believe my mother recognized some time ago. It is too easy for my people to come to rely on my abilities as an Exalt, to become complacent.”</p><p></p><p> “But that is not the sole reason you are leaving.”</p><p></p><p> “No,” Rutendo admitted. “It is not. Normally, any parent’s wish is for their children to surpass them, to go beyond what they were able to accomplish on their lives. For myself and my mother, I have come to realize that this is impossible. I cannot surpass her. The best I can do to fulfill my duties as Ayama’s son is to help her to meet her full potential.”</p><p></p><p> “I can think of worse ways for a son to honor his mother,” Kaliel said. “Very well.”</p><p></p><p> Kaliel explained Rutendo’s intentions to the rest of his Circle, who agreed he could come with them. Zanka sensed that Rutendo might have another, hidden motivation for coming with them, but she chose not to press.</p><p></p><p> It was late summer when they set out, and upon arrival at the Meander River, they quickly learned that all of the merchant vessels were packed from bow to stern, as harvests began to come in and traders were desperately trying to get every last grain of rice sold before the onset of winter. With no ships willing to provide them passage, the five travelers were forced to travel overland to reach the kingdom of Lagan.</p><p></p><p> Two weeks out of Petgrana, they found themselves at a small, unremarkable inn serving a waystation just off the river. There were few guests other than the three Solars and their companions, as a large caravan had just left the day before. Thus as the night grew late, it came to pass that the common room was empty, save for two souls.</p><p></p><p> Ghost looked across the table at Rutendo, who had been silent for some time. He studied the Dragon-Blood’s face, the way his hands moved, the directions his gaze went.</p><p></p><p> “I advise you never to involve yourself in a serious game of cards,” Ghost said at last. “Your face is too easily read. Ask the question you have had for the past five days.”</p><p></p><p> The sudden calling out seemed to steel Rutendo’s resolve. “Have you ever lain with a man?”</p><p></p><p> “It is not my preference,” Ghost answered, “but neither am I averse to it, under the right circumstances.”</p><p></p><p> “For some time,” Rutendo said, “I have tried to honor my mother’s desire for grandchildren, and certainly have had no lack of young women in my village eager to assist me. However, I have found myself uninterested in pursuing courtship with any of them. For some time, I assumed that I simply had no attraction to the women of my village, and would need to search elsewhere. Recently, I came to the realization that I have no interest in the touch of any woman.”</p><p></p><p> “And it seems that you have decided whose touch you do want.”</p><p></p><p> “This is a way of life I am unaccustomed to,” Rutendo stated. “I have come to know you over the past few months. You are young and handsome, and more experienced in such matters.”</p><p></p><p> Ghost looked Rutendo over carefully, viewing him in new and interesting ways. “If you are seeking a lifelong partner…”</p><p></p><p> “No,” Rutendo replied quickly. “I only wish a night’s companionship – or more, if you are willing.”</p><p></p><p> Ghost smiled. He knew from experience that those with the blood of the dragons held a nearly insatiable lust – he had read in Evanescent Shadow’s journal that this was a trait inherent in their Exaltation, to ensure they would quickly pass along their bloodline.</p><p></p><p> “If we lie together, Rutendo, the others will soon learn of it.”</p><p></p><p> “I understand.”</p><p></p><p> “I will also expect you to be able to find other companions by the time we reach Lynnisbrook,” Ghost continued. “You are young and attractive as well, but as I have said, my preference is for women.”</p><p></p><p> “I am sure that in your capable hands, I will learn what I need to know to find other partners,” Rutendo said, a smile spreading on his face.</p><p></p><p> Ghost stood, and circled around the table. He pulled Rutendo up to his feet, and cradling the back of his head in one hand, pressed his lips to the Dragon-Blood’s. Ghost could feel heat begin to rise from the young man’s skin, and the burgeoning of his desire.</p><p></p><p> “Dear boy, my hands are only one part of what I can show you.” *</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">۞</p><p></p><p> They reached the borders of Lagan late in the day. Hiring a small rivercraft along the shore of the Silver River, they arrived in the city of Lynnisbrook as the long shadows of afternoon began to meld with twilight’s darkness.</p><p></p><p> The city itself was aglow, with colorful paper lanterns hung everywhere. It seemed that everyone was in the streets, despite the late hour, and as they stepped onto the docks, they could hear the sound of happy shouts and singing. A group of drunken men wandered by, reciting a bawdy poem.</p><p></p><p> “A celebration,” Ghost said. “Most excellent.”</p><p></p><p> “This is not a holy day for any god I know,” Kaliel said.</p><p></p><p> Ghost, who had somehow already managed to procure a flagon of ale, grabbed the arm of a reveler. “What is the cause of such merriment?” he asked.</p><p></p><p> “Lady Rinalta has declared today a festival day, to celebrate the birth of her child!”</p><p></p><p> “She has a child?” Ghost asked.</p><p></p><p> “Not yet, but soon!” the man shouted. “She has been with child for six months!”</p><p></p><p> “Who is the father?” Ghost asked. Unseen by the others, Kaliel blushed slightly.</p><p></p><p> “No one knows for certain,” the man said. “But that is not important. Many of us feared that she would be unable to produce an heir because of her long illness. Now we can rest easy that her line will continue.”</p><p></p><p> The man stumbled past them. Ghost turned to Kaliel. “You were in the city about six months ago,” Ghost said. “Did she mention to you that she was with child?”</p><p></p><p> “Not a word,” he replied. “Perhaps she had not yet conceived.”</p><p></p><p> The heroes gathered more information as they made their way into town to find an inn. The most surprising fact they learned was that ambassadors from the Realm had been visiting the city for several months, apparently trying to smooth over a diplomatic gaffe that had occurred about nine months ago. One of the ambassadors, Mnemon Lyrik, was said to have been staying at the palace for some time, and was a strong contender for being the father of Lady Silver’s child.</p><p></p><p> “Perhaps I will go to Storyteller’s temple,” Zanka said. “I am certain he will wish to exchange tales of recent events.”</p><p></p><p> “I will go to our compound in the city and get a report from Brusk,” Kaliel said. “Then I will go and pay my respects to Lady Rinalta.”</p><p></p><p> “We will continue to the Hornblower Inn,” Ghost said. “And then amuse ourselves until your return.”</p><p></p><p> Kaliel made his way across the town to the compound where the Chrysanthemum Knights had been training the local militia. He was surprised to find the compound was empty, though it had only recently been abandoned. A few inquiries told him that the men from Chrysanthemum had recently left after completing their training program. The Dawn carried this news with him as he approached Rinalta’s palace.</p><p></p><p> He was admitted right away by the guards, who recognized him from his previous visits. He was asked to leave his weapons behind; though he was somewhat reluctant, he handed Principle of Severity to the waiting guards before following a servant to the formal throne room.</p><p></p><p> Lady Rinalta sat in her throne, dressed in an opulent red gown and wearing her jewels of state. She had clearly been receiving guests and well-wishers for most of the day. The swell of her belly was plain to see. Sitting beside her in a smaller throne was a man with waist long, straight brown hair, wearing robes embroidered with symbols of the Scarlet Empire and House Mnemon which were the height of fashion on the Blessed Isle, as far as Kaliel could tell.</p><p></p><p> Kaliel bowed. “Lady Rinalta, it is good to see you again, and under such joyous circumstances.”</p><p></p><p> “Lord Kaliel, it is good to see you as well. I did not know you would be returning to see us so soon.”</p><p></p><p> “Circumstances have led our paths to cross once again. I assume that this is Mnemon Lyrik, whose name I have heard mentioned in the streets as I came to greet you.”</p><p></p><p> The man nodded. “A pleasure, Lord Kaliel. Lady Rinalta has spoken of you.”</p><p></p><p> “I could not help but notice that my Knights are no longer in Lynnisbrook,” Kaliel said. “I hope they have not given cause to offend.”</p><p></p><p> “Not at all,” Lady Rinalta replied. “They were simply no longer needed, and had fulfilled their obligations. The training has gone better than expected, and my own soldiers were in a position to begin training the new recruits themselves. In addition, we have found that our need for self-defense is no longer as pressing as it once was.”</p><p></p><p> “Oh?” Kaliel raised an eyebrow.</p><p></p><p> “For reasons unknown, the Bull of the North has pulled back his troops, and is no longer as directly involved with the Haltans in their unending war with the Linowans. Because of this easing of pressure on the Linowan front lines, the Linowans have stopped raiding to the south, which of course means we are no longer in their sights as a target. Rest assured, we will continue to train our own soldiers, and will be prepared when the war inevitably escalates again, but for now we have a moment’s rest.”</p><p></p><p> “I hope that our two lands may continue their alliance, even though the threat from the Linowans has eased,” Kaliel said. Of course, he knew the truth behind the Bull’s unexpected withdrawal – but he was not willing to share this knowledge with a Realm diplomat in the room.</p><p></p><p> “Of course. The ties between Lagan and Chrysanthemum are as strong as ever.”</p><p></p><p> Kaliel returned his attention to Mnemon Lyrik. “I must confess I was surprised to learn of a Realm ambassador so deep in the Confederation of Rivers.”</p><p></p><p> “Greyfalls is much farther East than this,” Lyrik replied.</p><p></p><p> “And much larger.”</p><p></p><p> “Lady Rinalta has proven herself a capable ruler,” Lyrik said. “And Lagan has become a much more pivotal region than it once was. There are many who are interested in assuring this nation’s future security. After all, Lady Silver cannot always rely on having a band of mercenaries on hand. This land needs something more… stable.”</p><p></p><p> “Indeed.” Kaliel bristled at the insult, but knew he could not respond – at least, not in the manner he would like. “I do not wish to take up more of your time, Lady. I am certain you have many of your loyal subjects who wish to see you.”</p><p></p><p> “Good evening, Lord Kaliel. Perhaps we will have the chance to speak again.”</p><p></p><p> “I hope that is the case.” He bowed again, then turned and walked out of the room. He made his way through town until he reached the Hornblower Inn, a well-kept but modest establishment near the center of town. He found Ghost inside the common room, a mug of wine in one hand and a buxom young woman sitting on his lap. On the other side of the table, Luc was talking to another young woman who looked to be the younger sister of Ghost’s companion.</p><p></p><p> “I hope that you at least had the sense to acquire rooms for the night before beginning your festivities,” Kaliel said.</p><p></p><p> “Of course,” Ghost replied irritably. “Up the stairs, the first three doors on your right. I would advise you not to enter the first room, however – Rutendo is currently entertaining a young caravan guard.”</p><p></p><p> Kaliel sighed. “I will take the last room, then. I expect I will see you in the morning.”</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">۞</p><p></p><p> Zanka arrived at Storyteller’s temple, and was pleased to see it in much better repair than before. There was even a priest now attending the shrine. Zanka knelt, and called out a quick prayer to the god. Moments later, Storyteller manifested before her.</p><p></p><p> “Good evening, Zanka Odokari,” he said. “What brings you to my temple, calling out so loudly for my attention?”</p><p></p><p> “I did not think my prayers were quite that insistent,” Zanka said.</p><p></p><p> “The voices of the Sun’s Chosen ring out louder than those of mere mortals,” he replied.</p><p></p><p> “I wished to pay my respects, and offer an exchange of stories,” she said. “It seems that a story is unfolding in Lynnisbrook this very night.”</p><p></p><p> “Indeed, the celebration of Lady Rinalta’s pregnancy. A most happy occasion.”</p><p></p><p> “And do you know who the father is?”</p><p></p><p> “There are many stories,” the god said. “Lady Silver has entertained many suitors in the past months, mostly those trying to cement alliances with Lagan. The most likely contender is Mnemon Lyrik, the Realm ambassador, though I can tell you that though he claims to represent the Throne, it is more likely he is taking advantage of the Cathak’s blunder and advancing the cause of his own House. As to the truth of the father’s identity, I cannot say. The only one who knows the truth of that is the queen herself, and that is not a tale she is telling anyone.”</p><p></p><p> “I see. What other news?”</p><p></p><p> “The other story that has been told recently is that of the recent murders of half of the Silver Guard.”</p><p></p><p> “Who are the Silver Guard?”</p><p></p><p> Storyteller smiled. “Forgive me; I forget you have not been here for many months. After Lagan’s military began to take shape, we began to attract a number of outcaste Dragon-Bloods, who swore fealty to Lady Rinalta. They dubbed themselves the Silver Guard, and mostly served as the queen’s personal guard and officer corps. However, in the past few weeks three of them have been found murdered in their homes, shot with arrows. The local magistrates have not found who is responsible.”</p><p></p><p> “That is unfortunate,” Zanka said. “Creation could use more Dragon-Bloods who are not under the yoke of the Realm or the Immaculate Order.”</p><p></p><p> “It is a tragedy,” Storyteller agreed. “But I have spoken much, and received nothing in return. Come, tell me tales of what you have seen in Creation.”</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">۞</p><p></p><p> Ayama arrived in Lynnisbrook early the next morning. All around her she saw the remnants of a wild celebration, as people staggered out of their homes and various alleyways, blinking in the harsh morning light. Shreds of paper lanterns littered the ground, as well as puddles of spilled ale and other, more noxious substances. Stepping carefully to avoid the mess, Ayama made her way to the temple of Storyteller, hoping that if her companions had already arrived in the city, they would have spoken to the god.</p><p></p><p> She stopped to speak to a city watchman, who was clearly doing his best to at least appear alert. “Good morning,” she said. “May I ask what festival was celebrated yesterday?”</p><p></p><p> “Our lady is with child,” he said, clearly putting an effort into speaking courteously despite his hangover. “She designated yesterday as a festival to celebrate.”</p><p></p><p> “I see. That is wonderful news for both her and her people. Thank you.”</p><p></p><p> She arrived at the temple, relieved to see that it was free of any of the remnants of the celebration. She saw Zanka sleeping on a bench near the shrine. Ayama sat quietly in front of the shrine, meditating, until the Eclipse woke.</p><p></p><p> “Good morning,” Zanka said. She looked closely at Ayama, and immediately noticed something very different about the Zenith; her long, braided hair was gone. She now wore her golden brown hair in a very short style, only a few inches in length. She also saw a large, metal gauntlet hung from Ayama’s waist.</p><p></p><p> “I expect there is a story to tell about this,” Zanka said, indicating Ayama’s head.</p><p></p><p> “There is, one day. Where are the others?”</p><p></p><p> “They were going to the Hornblower Inn,” Zanka said. “I felt that it would be safer and quieter here.”</p><p></p><p> At that moment, Kaliel was woken by the sound of a heavy knock on the door of his room. He rose, and went to the door. Standing outside was a soldier wearing the garb of a palace guard.</p><p></p><p> “You are Lord Kaliel?”</p><p></p><p> “I am.”</p><p></p><p> “Lady Rinalta requests your presence at your earliest convenience, as well as that of your traveling companions,” the guard said. “There is an urgent matter for which the queen requires your assistance.”</p><p></p><p> “We will be there as soon as possible,” Kaliel said. “Some of my companions spent the night elsewhere.”</p><p></p><p> As soon as the door shut, Kaliel heard Ghost mutter, “I suppose this means I must get up now.”</p><p></p><p> “Indeed. I will go and wake Rutendo and Luc. You can go to Storyteller’s temple to collect Zanka, and we will meet at the palace.”</p><p></p><p> “Very well.” Ghost lifted up the edge of his bedding. “Time to go, love,” he said. A feminine giggle emanated from under the blankets.</p><p></p><p> An hour later, Ghost wandered into the temple, and saw Zanka and Ayama talking.</p><p></p><p> “Ayama!” he said. “You are here!”</p><p></p><p> “I arrived this morning,” she replied.</p><p></p><p> “There was a festival last night,” Ghost said. “Fortunately, you missed it – you might have accidentally had some fun.” He pointed at Ayama’s shorn head. “What has happened? Did you finally grow tired of washing out the braid every day?”</p><p></p><p> “I was reminded of why I had always begged my mother to cut my hair as a child,” Ayama said. “Because little boys have the tendency to pull long hair. Only sometimes they are not little boys, but strange and irritating gods. But for you to be up this early on the day after a celebration, there must be some reason.”</p><p></p><p> “Indeed. We have been requested to appear at the palace to meet the queen.”</p><p></p><p> “Let us go, then,” Ayama said, standing.</p><p></p><p> Once they arrived at the palace, the four Solars and their two companions were quickly ushered inside – notably, they were permitted to enter with their weapons. They noted that the number of guards in the hallways was higher than normal, and all looked very alert. Upon their arrival in the formal throne room, they immediately saw the reason they had been summoned.</p><p></p><p> The body of Mnemon Lyrik lay in the center of the room, a trio of arrows protruding from his back. **</p><p></p><p>-------------------------</p><p></p><p>* Ghost has, for one reason or another, been compared to Captain Jack Harkness from <em>Torchwood</em> at times. This is one of those reasons.</p><p></p><p>** Dun Dun DUN! (Sorry, couldn't resist. I'm in a silly mood.)</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Delemental, post: 5059822, member: 5203"] [b]Blood of the Dragons[/b] Okay, to make up for the lack of recent updates, this one's going to be a bit longer than usual. -------------------------------------- Nearly two weeks passed before the remainder of the Circle took their leave of Petgrana. There was a last attempt to try and locate Lenn, but when the search came up empty, they had to conclude that the Lunar had encountered others of his kind, and had been taken under their protection. Luc was offered the chance to remain in the village, but he decided to continue traveling with the Solars, so that he could continue his training in both the arts of war and stealth. Two days before their departure, however, Kaliel was approached by Rutendo. “With your permission, I would like to accompany you to Lynnisbrook,” the Fire Dragon said, “so that I may be by my mother’s side.” “Are you certain it is wise to leave Petgrana?” Kaliel asked. “I have been training someone to take my place as War Leader,” he replied. “And I have also come to recognize something which I believe my mother recognized some time ago. It is too easy for my people to come to rely on my abilities as an Exalt, to become complacent.” “But that is not the sole reason you are leaving.” “No,” Rutendo admitted. “It is not. Normally, any parent’s wish is for their children to surpass them, to go beyond what they were able to accomplish on their lives. For myself and my mother, I have come to realize that this is impossible. I cannot surpass her. The best I can do to fulfill my duties as Ayama’s son is to help her to meet her full potential.” “I can think of worse ways for a son to honor his mother,” Kaliel said. “Very well.” Kaliel explained Rutendo’s intentions to the rest of his Circle, who agreed he could come with them. Zanka sensed that Rutendo might have another, hidden motivation for coming with them, but she chose not to press. It was late summer when they set out, and upon arrival at the Meander River, they quickly learned that all of the merchant vessels were packed from bow to stern, as harvests began to come in and traders were desperately trying to get every last grain of rice sold before the onset of winter. With no ships willing to provide them passage, the five travelers were forced to travel overland to reach the kingdom of Lagan. Two weeks out of Petgrana, they found themselves at a small, unremarkable inn serving a waystation just off the river. There were few guests other than the three Solars and their companions, as a large caravan had just left the day before. Thus as the night grew late, it came to pass that the common room was empty, save for two souls. Ghost looked across the table at Rutendo, who had been silent for some time. He studied the Dragon-Blood’s face, the way his hands moved, the directions his gaze went. “I advise you never to involve yourself in a serious game of cards,” Ghost said at last. “Your face is too easily read. Ask the question you have had for the past five days.” The sudden calling out seemed to steel Rutendo’s resolve. “Have you ever lain with a man?” “It is not my preference,” Ghost answered, “but neither am I averse to it, under the right circumstances.” “For some time,” Rutendo said, “I have tried to honor my mother’s desire for grandchildren, and certainly have had no lack of young women in my village eager to assist me. However, I have found myself uninterested in pursuing courtship with any of them. For some time, I assumed that I simply had no attraction to the women of my village, and would need to search elsewhere. Recently, I came to the realization that I have no interest in the touch of any woman.” “And it seems that you have decided whose touch you do want.” “This is a way of life I am unaccustomed to,” Rutendo stated. “I have come to know you over the past few months. You are young and handsome, and more experienced in such matters.” Ghost looked Rutendo over carefully, viewing him in new and interesting ways. “If you are seeking a lifelong partner…” “No,” Rutendo replied quickly. “I only wish a night’s companionship – or more, if you are willing.” Ghost smiled. He knew from experience that those with the blood of the dragons held a nearly insatiable lust – he had read in Evanescent Shadow’s journal that this was a trait inherent in their Exaltation, to ensure they would quickly pass along their bloodline. “If we lie together, Rutendo, the others will soon learn of it.” “I understand.” “I will also expect you to be able to find other companions by the time we reach Lynnisbrook,” Ghost continued. “You are young and attractive as well, but as I have said, my preference is for women.” “I am sure that in your capable hands, I will learn what I need to know to find other partners,” Rutendo said, a smile spreading on his face. Ghost stood, and circled around the table. He pulled Rutendo up to his feet, and cradling the back of his head in one hand, pressed his lips to the Dragon-Blood’s. Ghost could feel heat begin to rise from the young man’s skin, and the burgeoning of his desire. “Dear boy, my hands are only one part of what I can show you.” * [center]۞[/center] They reached the borders of Lagan late in the day. Hiring a small rivercraft along the shore of the Silver River, they arrived in the city of Lynnisbrook as the long shadows of afternoon began to meld with twilight’s darkness. The city itself was aglow, with colorful paper lanterns hung everywhere. It seemed that everyone was in the streets, despite the late hour, and as they stepped onto the docks, they could hear the sound of happy shouts and singing. A group of drunken men wandered by, reciting a bawdy poem. “A celebration,” Ghost said. “Most excellent.” “This is not a holy day for any god I know,” Kaliel said. Ghost, who had somehow already managed to procure a flagon of ale, grabbed the arm of a reveler. “What is the cause of such merriment?” he asked. “Lady Rinalta has declared today a festival day, to celebrate the birth of her child!” “She has a child?” Ghost asked. “Not yet, but soon!” the man shouted. “She has been with child for six months!” “Who is the father?” Ghost asked. Unseen by the others, Kaliel blushed slightly. “No one knows for certain,” the man said. “But that is not important. Many of us feared that she would be unable to produce an heir because of her long illness. Now we can rest easy that her line will continue.” The man stumbled past them. Ghost turned to Kaliel. “You were in the city about six months ago,” Ghost said. “Did she mention to you that she was with child?” “Not a word,” he replied. “Perhaps she had not yet conceived.” The heroes gathered more information as they made their way into town to find an inn. The most surprising fact they learned was that ambassadors from the Realm had been visiting the city for several months, apparently trying to smooth over a diplomatic gaffe that had occurred about nine months ago. One of the ambassadors, Mnemon Lyrik, was said to have been staying at the palace for some time, and was a strong contender for being the father of Lady Silver’s child. “Perhaps I will go to Storyteller’s temple,” Zanka said. “I am certain he will wish to exchange tales of recent events.” “I will go to our compound in the city and get a report from Brusk,” Kaliel said. “Then I will go and pay my respects to Lady Rinalta.” “We will continue to the Hornblower Inn,” Ghost said. “And then amuse ourselves until your return.” Kaliel made his way across the town to the compound where the Chrysanthemum Knights had been training the local militia. He was surprised to find the compound was empty, though it had only recently been abandoned. A few inquiries told him that the men from Chrysanthemum had recently left after completing their training program. The Dawn carried this news with him as he approached Rinalta’s palace. He was admitted right away by the guards, who recognized him from his previous visits. He was asked to leave his weapons behind; though he was somewhat reluctant, he handed Principle of Severity to the waiting guards before following a servant to the formal throne room. Lady Rinalta sat in her throne, dressed in an opulent red gown and wearing her jewels of state. She had clearly been receiving guests and well-wishers for most of the day. The swell of her belly was plain to see. Sitting beside her in a smaller throne was a man with waist long, straight brown hair, wearing robes embroidered with symbols of the Scarlet Empire and House Mnemon which were the height of fashion on the Blessed Isle, as far as Kaliel could tell. Kaliel bowed. “Lady Rinalta, it is good to see you again, and under such joyous circumstances.” “Lord Kaliel, it is good to see you as well. I did not know you would be returning to see us so soon.” “Circumstances have led our paths to cross once again. I assume that this is Mnemon Lyrik, whose name I have heard mentioned in the streets as I came to greet you.” The man nodded. “A pleasure, Lord Kaliel. Lady Rinalta has spoken of you.” “I could not help but notice that my Knights are no longer in Lynnisbrook,” Kaliel said. “I hope they have not given cause to offend.” “Not at all,” Lady Rinalta replied. “They were simply no longer needed, and had fulfilled their obligations. The training has gone better than expected, and my own soldiers were in a position to begin training the new recruits themselves. In addition, we have found that our need for self-defense is no longer as pressing as it once was.” “Oh?” Kaliel raised an eyebrow. “For reasons unknown, the Bull of the North has pulled back his troops, and is no longer as directly involved with the Haltans in their unending war with the Linowans. Because of this easing of pressure on the Linowan front lines, the Linowans have stopped raiding to the south, which of course means we are no longer in their sights as a target. Rest assured, we will continue to train our own soldiers, and will be prepared when the war inevitably escalates again, but for now we have a moment’s rest.” “I hope that our two lands may continue their alliance, even though the threat from the Linowans has eased,” Kaliel said. Of course, he knew the truth behind the Bull’s unexpected withdrawal – but he was not willing to share this knowledge with a Realm diplomat in the room. “Of course. The ties between Lagan and Chrysanthemum are as strong as ever.” Kaliel returned his attention to Mnemon Lyrik. “I must confess I was surprised to learn of a Realm ambassador so deep in the Confederation of Rivers.” “Greyfalls is much farther East than this,” Lyrik replied. “And much larger.” “Lady Rinalta has proven herself a capable ruler,” Lyrik said. “And Lagan has become a much more pivotal region than it once was. There are many who are interested in assuring this nation’s future security. After all, Lady Silver cannot always rely on having a band of mercenaries on hand. This land needs something more… stable.” “Indeed.” Kaliel bristled at the insult, but knew he could not respond – at least, not in the manner he would like. “I do not wish to take up more of your time, Lady. I am certain you have many of your loyal subjects who wish to see you.” “Good evening, Lord Kaliel. Perhaps we will have the chance to speak again.” “I hope that is the case.” He bowed again, then turned and walked out of the room. He made his way through town until he reached the Hornblower Inn, a well-kept but modest establishment near the center of town. He found Ghost inside the common room, a mug of wine in one hand and a buxom young woman sitting on his lap. On the other side of the table, Luc was talking to another young woman who looked to be the younger sister of Ghost’s companion. “I hope that you at least had the sense to acquire rooms for the night before beginning your festivities,” Kaliel said. “Of course,” Ghost replied irritably. “Up the stairs, the first three doors on your right. I would advise you not to enter the first room, however – Rutendo is currently entertaining a young caravan guard.” Kaliel sighed. “I will take the last room, then. I expect I will see you in the morning.” [center]۞[/center] Zanka arrived at Storyteller’s temple, and was pleased to see it in much better repair than before. There was even a priest now attending the shrine. Zanka knelt, and called out a quick prayer to the god. Moments later, Storyteller manifested before her. “Good evening, Zanka Odokari,” he said. “What brings you to my temple, calling out so loudly for my attention?” “I did not think my prayers were quite that insistent,” Zanka said. “The voices of the Sun’s Chosen ring out louder than those of mere mortals,” he replied. “I wished to pay my respects, and offer an exchange of stories,” she said. “It seems that a story is unfolding in Lynnisbrook this very night.” “Indeed, the celebration of Lady Rinalta’s pregnancy. A most happy occasion.” “And do you know who the father is?” “There are many stories,” the god said. “Lady Silver has entertained many suitors in the past months, mostly those trying to cement alliances with Lagan. The most likely contender is Mnemon Lyrik, the Realm ambassador, though I can tell you that though he claims to represent the Throne, it is more likely he is taking advantage of the Cathak’s blunder and advancing the cause of his own House. As to the truth of the father’s identity, I cannot say. The only one who knows the truth of that is the queen herself, and that is not a tale she is telling anyone.” “I see. What other news?” “The other story that has been told recently is that of the recent murders of half of the Silver Guard.” “Who are the Silver Guard?” Storyteller smiled. “Forgive me; I forget you have not been here for many months. After Lagan’s military began to take shape, we began to attract a number of outcaste Dragon-Bloods, who swore fealty to Lady Rinalta. They dubbed themselves the Silver Guard, and mostly served as the queen’s personal guard and officer corps. However, in the past few weeks three of them have been found murdered in their homes, shot with arrows. The local magistrates have not found who is responsible.” “That is unfortunate,” Zanka said. “Creation could use more Dragon-Bloods who are not under the yoke of the Realm or the Immaculate Order.” “It is a tragedy,” Storyteller agreed. “But I have spoken much, and received nothing in return. Come, tell me tales of what you have seen in Creation.” [center]۞[/center] Ayama arrived in Lynnisbrook early the next morning. All around her she saw the remnants of a wild celebration, as people staggered out of their homes and various alleyways, blinking in the harsh morning light. Shreds of paper lanterns littered the ground, as well as puddles of spilled ale and other, more noxious substances. Stepping carefully to avoid the mess, Ayama made her way to the temple of Storyteller, hoping that if her companions had already arrived in the city, they would have spoken to the god. She stopped to speak to a city watchman, who was clearly doing his best to at least appear alert. “Good morning,” she said. “May I ask what festival was celebrated yesterday?” “Our lady is with child,” he said, clearly putting an effort into speaking courteously despite his hangover. “She designated yesterday as a festival to celebrate.” “I see. That is wonderful news for both her and her people. Thank you.” She arrived at the temple, relieved to see that it was free of any of the remnants of the celebration. She saw Zanka sleeping on a bench near the shrine. Ayama sat quietly in front of the shrine, meditating, until the Eclipse woke. “Good morning,” Zanka said. She looked closely at Ayama, and immediately noticed something very different about the Zenith; her long, braided hair was gone. She now wore her golden brown hair in a very short style, only a few inches in length. She also saw a large, metal gauntlet hung from Ayama’s waist. “I expect there is a story to tell about this,” Zanka said, indicating Ayama’s head. “There is, one day. Where are the others?” “They were going to the Hornblower Inn,” Zanka said. “I felt that it would be safer and quieter here.” At that moment, Kaliel was woken by the sound of a heavy knock on the door of his room. He rose, and went to the door. Standing outside was a soldier wearing the garb of a palace guard. “You are Lord Kaliel?” “I am.” “Lady Rinalta requests your presence at your earliest convenience, as well as that of your traveling companions,” the guard said. “There is an urgent matter for which the queen requires your assistance.” “We will be there as soon as possible,” Kaliel said. “Some of my companions spent the night elsewhere.” As soon as the door shut, Kaliel heard Ghost mutter, “I suppose this means I must get up now.” “Indeed. I will go and wake Rutendo and Luc. You can go to Storyteller’s temple to collect Zanka, and we will meet at the palace.” “Very well.” Ghost lifted up the edge of his bedding. “Time to go, love,” he said. A feminine giggle emanated from under the blankets. An hour later, Ghost wandered into the temple, and saw Zanka and Ayama talking. “Ayama!” he said. “You are here!” “I arrived this morning,” she replied. “There was a festival last night,” Ghost said. “Fortunately, you missed it – you might have accidentally had some fun.” He pointed at Ayama’s shorn head. “What has happened? Did you finally grow tired of washing out the braid every day?” “I was reminded of why I had always begged my mother to cut my hair as a child,” Ayama said. “Because little boys have the tendency to pull long hair. Only sometimes they are not little boys, but strange and irritating gods. But for you to be up this early on the day after a celebration, there must be some reason.” “Indeed. We have been requested to appear at the palace to meet the queen.” “Let us go, then,” Ayama said, standing. Once they arrived at the palace, the four Solars and their two companions were quickly ushered inside – notably, they were permitted to enter with their weapons. They noted that the number of guards in the hallways was higher than normal, and all looked very alert. Upon their arrival in the formal throne room, they immediately saw the reason they had been summoned. The body of Mnemon Lyrik lay in the center of the room, a trio of arrows protruding from his back. ** ------------------------- * Ghost has, for one reason or another, been compared to Captain Jack Harkness from [I]Torchwood[/I] at times. This is one of those reasons. ** Dun Dun DUN! (Sorry, couldn't resist. I'm in a silly mood.) [/QUOTE]
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[Exalted 2e] Chosen of the Second Age
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