Grumki was special... he went from a full PC to a NPC to a half-PC (Isida did a far better job doing the "Strength of Kord" statements than I did, so by popular demand, she got to play Grumki
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A Funeral in Iskeldrun
When the swirling of the teleportation stopped, even Luke was forced to gawk slightly. The teleportation chambers in Irulas had been massive... enough that in theory one hundred men at arms could be sent at once (though due to the size of the transport, the chamber would be down for several hours thereafter). The chamber they arrived in at Iskeldrun was at least ten times that.
Where the chamber in Irulas had been ornately but tastefully decorated, the one they now found themselves in was positively decadent. The room rose into a massive dome that towered nearly fifty feet above. Along the rim where the walls connected with the start of the sloping ceiling were rows of gemstones... massive rubies, sapphires and emeralds. Seemingly suspended from the top of the dome was a massive dragon, nearly 10 feet across, made out of a single piece of crystal.
Tess was the first to recover, and she quickly said before the mages in the room could come over, “Alright... we’re nobles now. Let’s not gawk like country bumpkins.”
The ten mages that approached were all mages from not the Irulas Court, but the Iskeldrun Court. While the Irulas mages had been decorated in colorful and highly expensive robes, Siabrey saw more jewels on these ten mages than she was sure many mid-sized baronies were worth in total. Their robes, and even caps seemed to have been trimmed in woven gold and perhaps even platinum. The party had grabbed some of the best clothes they could before travelling out here... and still they were outdone by the mages.
“You Majesties, m’lords and ladies,” the lead one, a suprisingly younger man who only had salt-and-pepper in his beard, not the usual bevy of gray and white, “may I welcome you to your home at Iskeldrun.”
“Um... thanks?” Siabrey said uncertainly, and winced. If she’d committed some kind of formality faux pas none of the mages’ faces changed, so she would never know. Tess gave a bow and a more polite greeting.
“If you would be so kind, m’lords, could you conduct us to the quarters of Dowager Empress?” Tess said quietly but commandingly. Siabrey breathed yet another sigh of relief that her friend was quick to adjust to ostentatious situations.
With a nod, the mages led them on.
As the party was led through the corridors and hallways of not the Irulas Imperial Palace, but
THE Imperial Palace, their eyes could not believe the sights they beheld. Colonnades corridors whose columns were completely covered with platinum with golden gilt added on top to form reliefs depicting the actions of ancient and modern Emperors. Tapestries and coats of arms that included things such as roc feathers, hippogriff claws, and other exceedingly rare items. As they passed by one of the Imperial chapels to Tarantor, one of the mages commented dryly that the torches inside were lit with pieces of the Elemental Plane of Fire; the flames never needed to be stoked.
As they neared the Imperial Apartments (the size of which they could easily see dwarfed the Irulas Palace), they passed by immense shimmering glass windows, surrounded by ornate carvings of dragons, griffins and other magical beasts. This artwork, however, wasn’t what stunned them.
Through the windows they could only see the city... as far as the eye could see. Not only that, but they saw how
high up they were... by Siabrey’s stuttering estimate, at least three hundred feet up... a far cry from the five story Irulas palace!
Finally, the mages drew the party nigh to a massive set of double doors, covered in gold and platinum work. Two guards, their armor gilt as well, stood outside with wicked looking gilt halberds.
“What a waste,” Siabrey muttered under her breath.
Think of how much of the damage in the Valley could be repaired, with the money that instead was used to make this... door!
“That door was built by Emperor Valerian II, founder of the old Paleologus line some five hundred years ago,” one of the older mages commented. “A happier time. The Empress’ Quarters lie beyond.”
“Empress’ quarters?” Siabrey asked nervously. “Is that separate from the Emperor’s quarters?” The mage nodded, and Siabrey looked at him with an appalled look.
“Siabrey,” Tess leaned over, “you’ve seen the nobles, even Zoe’s plans for Lucius. Most marriages this high up are not as... um... happy as yours.”
“I hope they don’t expect me to sleep here if Luke is in the Emperor’s quarters,” she huffed. “If so, I’m going to make ‘em build a little hallway or staircase or whatnot between here and the Emperor’s Quarters!” Her commanding tone made none doubt her intentions, though her statement made Luke laugh.
“Don’t worry,” he grinned as the doors were opened, leading towards another corridor, “you forget. You’re the Empress... so if you want to sleep in my quarters, you can!”
The hallway led to a bevy of doors along either side, and another gilt set of double doors at the far end.. which the mages pointed out as the Empress’ chambers. With a bow, they then left the party... which walked up with some trepidation towards the door on the end, and what they knew laid beyond.
Gingerly, Siabrey pushed the doors open (she’d instructed the servants to go away, so the party and the Dowager Empress could have some privacy), and was greeted with a room whose opulence made the Irulas Palace once again pale in comparison. However, what caught her eye more was the stacks of crates and packed baggage that laid about the room... all with the old Imperial family seal... a white shield with a golden dragon.
Sitting on the edge of the massive bed was a woman clad in all black, looking out of the massive glass window in the palace towards the city beyond.
“I was told you had come,” a small voice, weak and cracking said. “Do not worry, I shall be moved out shortly.”
“No! No, you don’t need to move out so fast!” Siabrey interjected quickly. “We merely wanted to come and offer our condolences,” she added, walking up beside the woman.
The woman turned, and for the first time, the party saw her face. She was still fairly pretty, easily in her early thirties. Her hair too was raven black, and her eyes, as her skin, as a deep, rich brown. Around the edges of her eyes were red... and there were still traces of tears on her cheeks.
Without thinking, Siabrey leaned over, and in a completely un-royal manner, grabbed her and gave her a hug. The woman bore a look of surprised shock for a second or two, before relaxing and genuinely accepting the expression of sorrow.
“I... I did not have the priviledge of knowing your husband as these others did,” Vin said quietly, “but I did serve under his command in his final battle. He died doing what he loved... leading the charge against evil,” the archer said plainly. “There are thousands of men and woman that fought beside him that share my pride in having had him be their commander.”
“We knew your husband, Majesty,” Shaun tossed out, “He was a fine warrior... and a fine man. Damn fine man... one of the few truly honest men I’ve met.”
“He was a true friend to all of us,” Tess added, “we can only imagine what kind of loss his death was to you. He always spoke highly of you... and that you were his only love.”
“Luke only takes his place because he refused concubines... he loved you too much,” Siabrey added, as she finally pulled back from her hug. “If he trusted and loved you that much, it also speaks for your qualities.” The fighter gave a sad smile, as she saw the Dowager Empress was now crying again.
“Thank you,” the woman sputtered out between tears. “Thank you for your kind words.” They could see the woman give a visible shudder, before taking in a deep breath. The tears stopped, though her eyes still shimmered. They then realized that for all that she wanted to keep crying, she was preventing herself... there was work to be done.
“Alexander was indeed a kind and generous man... the reasons I fell in love with him, before I even knew his station. But nonetheless, you, Siabrey, are the Empress now. These are now your quarters. I shall move on,” the Dowager Empress said. “As the old dragon dies, it must be replaced by the new.”
“Please don’t!” Siabrey complained. “Your Majesty,” she said, not caring if it was proper protocol or not, “Luke and I, for all our lineage, have no experience ruling an Empire! You, Majesty, at least have had some experience as a longtime Princess and Crown Princess... much longer than myself or Luke!”
It was the Dowager Empress’ turn to give a sad smile. “However,” she added, tears running new down her face, “the old dragon can sometimes impart wisdom on the new. Where would I stay, though? These are your apartments now!”
“Somewhere in the palace, we’ll make room! And chances are, I won’t be using these apartments... stay here!” Siabrey said finally. The Empress shook her head.
“There are also too many memories here for me. I shall live elsewhere in the palace, should Your Majesties let me.”
“Of course!” Siabrey gave her another hug. “We need so much help! We’re supposed to plan a state funeral, but we have no idea where to even start!”
Two days later, Siabrey found herself beside Luke, mounted on a resplendent white charger. Both had what Siabrey termed, “obscenely heavy” crowns on their heads; metal conical helms, covered with giltwork and platinum. Rising from the front of the helm was a massive dragon’s neck, culminating in a roaring head, the beast’s forepaws forming the helm’s noseguard. From the each side of the helm rose a massive dragon’s wing, also gilt, some two and a half feet tall. From the rear of the helm rose the dragon’s tail, its tip ending in a massive diamond. The wings, head and tail combined formed a massive, imposing crown.
She found herself clad in the thick, white robes of state, trimmed in ermine and butterfly wings. Underneath this she wore her breastplate, which had been shined and polished to perfection. Kelir was upraised in her right hand... from what the Dowager Empress said, it was a salute to the fallen.
Tess had changed her armor into similarly appropriate robes and clothes, while Shaun and Orion had proper robes and the like made for them on Luke’s orders. While too bulky and hot to be practical, they did lend a gravity to the normally jovial rogue’s appearance. Hidalas et al fell behind, followed by several Imperial Guard regiments, nary a dry eye among them. Alexander, prior to becoming Crown Prince, had commanded the guards regiments in the city as the city’s Governor.
To the party’s front were two images that brought tears to their eyes. One was the Dowager Empress, clad in immense black robes that billowed in the stiff southern wind this day. She bore no crown on her head, nor ermine trims on her robes. She looked not the part of a former Empress of the largest realm in existence in this world... but a grieving wife.
To her front was the coffin itself. Ornately carved from ebony, its cover was made of white ash, two gilt dragons rising from either end, as if promising that Alexander would arise, cursing and swearing to deliver them all again... someday. It was drawn by six black horses, which wore the plumes of black roc feathers on their heads.
The somber calvacade made its way through the city, preceded by a bevy of priests from all of the recognized religions of the Empire, their censers swinging, giving their air a strangely sweet aroma for such a somber ceremony. Between them and the coffin itself was a choir made from two hundred acolytes from the temples of the city, their music high and sweet, in a tongue none in the party could understand. From behind the party, the drummers for the Imperial Guard tapped out a somber beat... a march dedicated to their fallen commander.
On all sides of the broad avenues and ways the procession streamed through, the commoners of the city turned out in throngs. Unlike the carnival atmosphere Siabrey ahd seen when Zoe had come into Irulas, almost all of the people, from the richest of merchants to the poorest of paupers, was silent, with caps removed. Some remembered Alexander from his time as the city’s Governor, and were openly crying.
It took three agonizing hours for the processional to finally leave the last of the four great walls ringing the city, and another hour to get out of the settlements and the like that had sprung up outside the last wall. Finally, nearing mid-afternoon, the party, guards, and priests drew up alongside a sheer cliff, its sides brilliant white. One of the priests, clad in the robes of the Most High Adjudicator of the Church of Tarantor, moved up to the solid cliff, and uttered a few divine phrases... a prayer. A section of the cliff seemed to shimmer, and fade away, leaving a hole. The Dowager Empress, the party, and the priests carried Alexander’s coffin inside.
The hall had several massive sets of double doors, and the priests instructed them to carry the coffin to a set of iron double doors, which had massive, angry dragons carved out of stone on either side. The priest said some more prayers, and the doors opened, revealing a massive sepulchre, with literally hundreds of pillars inside. With a few more prayers, the coffin floated to the top of one of the pillars.
“These halls are protected by Tarantor himself, now he shall watch their souls through the afterlife,” the Tarantor High Priest said softly. “Should you have any last words for the departed... please, say them at this time.”
The Dowager Empress spoke first. For the entire rest of the day, she had not shed a single tear, but now her reserves broke. Shaking, she spoke aloud of her love for him, and her wish that he hadn’t been taken so soon from her. Had he been a deity, or the poorest pauper in the universe, she still would’ve loved him. When she finished, she found that Siabrey was supporting her, helping her stand.
Tess went next. The bard had to clear her throat several times, before being able to speak... and even when she did, her voice shook a few times. “Alexander... I... I have to say, you were the first monarch that let me refer to them by a nickname,” she smiled, a tear going down her cheek. “You were a man among men... a true hero for all of us. Many times us bards need to find men worthy of song... now, I must find songs worthy of you. May you travel well in your next life, Captain of Men,” she said, her own voice breaking.
“Alex,” Shaun began, “I have to say... you... you were a character. You were the only decent noble I met, apart from Lucius. And that says something. You cared for others... and, above all, I’ll miss you... your wit, your intellect, your cursing out foolish nobles. Take care.”
“Alexander,” Siabrey smiled, “how can I begin? You did not want to be Emperor, yet you rose to the challenge, and were in my mind the best Emperor I have seen. There is much Luke and I can learn from you. You were commanding, yet caring. Strong, yet mindful of what your people needed. And above all... you helped us in our time of need. Please... rest in peace, Alex... and know that you carry with you our prayers and blessings.”
Luke, the only other one present, spoke briefly to his godfather, the man who was the uncle in absentia he never had. After only a few seconds, Luke’s voice broke, and he began to cry, shuddering on Siabrey’s shoulder. The fighter gently held him, and drew him along as the others all left the cliffside.
After the last one was out, the Tarantor priest spoke more prayers, and the cliff-face closed, once again a solid wall of rock. Even to Siabrey’s magical sight, it appeared as natural as before. A final chorus of prayers arose from the priests, their somber tenors rising in an beautiful chorus of calls to the soul that had long since departed, speeding it on its journey...
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I hadn't expected the players to come up with tributes to Alexander... that they did on their own. In the actual game they were the ones to say the first tributes, and I had to scramble to put in Luke's and the Dowager Empress'. It switched those around purely for literary reasons. I guess it showed how much they liked Alexander's character
