A Visitation to the Crown

Throne Room - 


 * ''The high ceilings of this gray stone chamber are supported by rows of massive columns along an aisle that features a purple carpet that extends from the arched entrance to the Imperial Throne Room and ends at the first step of the dais that holds the gleaming majesty of the Imperial Throne - a chair of gold, armrests encrusted in jewels, back and seat cushioned with stuffed pillows covered with crimson velvet.


 * ''Torches flicker in stanchions attached to the columns. The fluttering wings and twitter of birds can occasionally be heard in the shadows overhead, where the fowl have nested after coming into the estate through one of the balconies or the courtyard.


 * ''The Seal of Fastheld - a crown within a dark, unbroken circle - is on the tapestry that hangs behind and above the throne of Zolor Zahir.

A herald proclaims: "Lord Norran Lomasa..." His voice trails off as he peers at Tshepsi and Ailith. "...And guests," the herald concludes. He gestures down the aisle toward the throne, where the gaunt-faced steward sits flanked by soldiers of the Imperial military.

And into the throne room sweeps the armored form of the relatively newly-appointed Grand Master Norran Lomasa, awkwardness of previous visits not yet readily apparent as he approaches the throne. He bows deeply to the Regent as he nears, a friendly smile crossing his lips as he looks over to greet the Regent, "Light's Greetings, Your Highness. I hope I haven't caused too many disturbances this time - I hope my explaination I gave in my correspondance telling of my visit summarized the reason for our presence."

Zolor Zahir glances over at a put-upon-looking scribe who sits at a polished wood writing desk that is piled to overflowing with ribbon-bound parchment scrolls. "Astice, do you know what he's talking about?" The scribe starts shuffling through the scrolls, picking them up, unbinding them, riffling them open. Each time it's NOT the correspondence in question, he quickly rolls it back up and carefuly winds the ribbon around it. "I am certain it is here somewhere, sire." The steward grimaces, then looks toward Norran and his guests: "He'll keep looking. Meanwhile, you may assume the correspondence was blown away on the wind or lost in a flood. Something to that effect." A quick scowl for Astice, then a taut smile for Norran. "Do enlighten me."

Following Norran, in her own formal regalia, is Ailith - solemn as ever as she too approaches the throne to offer a deep bow. "Light's Blessings, Your Highness," she offers. "Among other matters, we have accompanied the Archmage of Crown's Refuge, who sought audience."

Norran's brows knit together immediately in disbelief, before said disbelief is washed away by a reluctant sigh of inevitability. "My deepest apologies, Your Highness. Incompetence of a courier or incompetence of mine own, I suspect the result will be the same. My first order of business after leaving will be locating a reliable courier, but I might as well continue..." Disappointed forcefully lifted, Norran stands to the side to first make note of the incoming Archmagess. "My first order of business was to seek audience with you on behalf of the Archmagess Tshepsi of Crown's Refuge, for her own reasons, and there's also a related matter regarding a certain storm you've likely heard about. Please, on the matter of this...'surprise', do not blame the Archmagess. As her escort, dealings of this sort are my responsibility. The other matter is in regards to the old Church of True Light, which is why the Warpriestess has accompanied me. We believe they are beginning to move, and would like to discuss the threat with you. I understand we've inconvenienced you, so we will proceed as you wish." Explained, as it were, Norran attempts to remake his previously gained enthusiasm with a mild success, waiting patiently for the Regent's reply.

Zolor Zahir makes a faint clucking sound with his tongue in his cheek as he ponders. Eventually, he leans back in the throne, crosses his arms, and says, "The Crown will hear first from the Archmagess. I do not believe I have ever had the opportunity to meet a Syladris before. Approach and be heard, Archmagess."

Entranced within a world of strange stones, lush carpeting, and embroidered wall-hangings, the Syladris that shadows the heels of her human keepers engages in constant study of the place, the ceiling up above where tasty birds have nested. These distractions hold her fluttering heart within her breast, occupying her nervous thoughts with more mundane - and then the herald speaks. Frozen in her tracks by the sound, Tshepsi snaps her attention into the present and her enraptured expression quickly becomes flustered. A breath to the left, a glance to the right at her companions, and the Archmage remembers why it is she is here. Ever so reverently, the serpentine form grows still, poised in a figure-eight behind the womanly half. Bent at the union of silky flesh and leathery scale, Tshepsi lowers her horns to the floor. Her arms hug submissively into her chest, almost crushing the basket she carries. Something scratches around inside its muffled containment. "I have come thisss far becaussse I wasss curiousss to sssee you. And the boy King. For him I brought a presssent." Setting the basket beside her on the floor, she averts her gaze with a sheepish sort of smile. "The Egg maker. I thought perhapsss he would find asss much pleasssure in itsss company asss I." Her tail nudges the basket lightly, emitting a faint series of peeps from the chick within. "And for you...of you Tssshepsi hasss a requessst." Remaining crouched lowly, she lets her eyes roll slyly aside to regard the Warpriest in silent contemplation.

Ailith simply keeps her eyes and posture forward, silently at ease. Now is not her time.

"Young Talus is unavailable at the moment," Zolor Zahir replies, his smile twitching briefly. His eyes narrow and his head tilts as he ponders the basket. He motions to one of the guards, who steps forward to take the gift of the Syladris. "The present will be delivered to His Majesty as soon as we are satisfied that it can cause no harm. Security, you see." He laces his fingers together. "So, what request do you have of the Crown?"

A sigh of relief, and the Grand Master stands aside to fold his hands behind his back and observe. As the chick is confiscated for security purposes, the Lomasa's polite smile turns a touch genuine.

"Not the crown," Tshepsi speaks amidst a tinkling of beads and other nature's ornaments that have been strung from her horns as she raises her head, "As pretty asss it isss." The body follows, fluidly, and she snatches the basket protectively from the floor. Her eyes narrow over the guards beadily for a moment, judging their competency in coddling her precious little egg maker. "From you. I have heard many thingsss about you. I wasss warned that I ssshould not come. But wordsss are only jussst that. People sssay many thingsss that aren't true. Ssso Tssshepsi decided ssshe ssshould meet you herssself. Politicsss, I guesss you may call it. From one leader to another. From one..." Letting her voice die away before the surfaced thought is completed, she ducks her head. "If I may, I would asssk your permisssion to know you, to sssee you in your light that only thossse of usss born into itsss darker depthsss can." Swallowing, she flicks her purple, forked tongue over ivory lips. "From which ssshade came you? Thessse thingsss Tssshepsi asssks to underssstand her own. Ssshe meansss no insssult. But if you refussse her sssight, I takesss no insssult. I know now, becaussse of your little girl priessst who likesss cherriesss but hatesss Tssshepsi, that not all persssons feel comfortable under sssuch clossse inssspection."

Zolor Zahir lifts his pale eyebrows. "No. I am flattered, I suppose. But...no. Welcome to Fastheld. So pleased to make your acquaintance. Don't be a stranger." He coughs into his fist. "Well, stranger than me." His smile brightens somewhat and then his attention shifts to Ailith. "And what business do *you* have with the Crown? Church troubles, hmm? Insurrection in the works? Bringing down the boot of authority on the cockroaches of old Mother Church?"

Ailith has apparently had some practice at not revealing what she's feeling. The young Warpriest might be carved of alabaster - not a breath, not a movement. It might, however, be a matter for confession later. "Your Highness, it would seem the Church of True Light is hiring mercenaries and agents throughout the land to hunt mages as it once did. Your Highness will no doubt have heard of the attacks; all seem to come from the same ultimate source. Sun's Keep. I do not have many Ordinators, and of those, few are suited to combat with the Scourges and their hired servants." She pauses, then finishes in that calm distant tone, "It is my belief that the bastion of my former sisters must be destroyed, if that is possible."

Zolor Zahir frowns. "Indeed? No diplomacy? No back-and-forth of idealogy? We're just to declare war on Sun's Keep for the good of all and sundry?"

"It was...attempted," interjects Norran, glancing off toward Ailith and nodding toward her in agreement. "Make a full description of what's transpired, Warpriestess, if you would. The matter should be made clear."

"May your sssecretsss be well kept, then, and I ssshall not asssk again." Brightened eyes crestfallen, Tshepsi reluctantly extends the basket as far as her arm will reach, sets it gently down, and slithers her tail around to push it in the direction of the guards. "Jussst don't eat him. He isss ssspecial." Translucent lashes bat away the mist on that note and she adjusts her coils to rest beneath her in a patience stance.

To Ailith's words, the Syladris gives an incredulous blink and wrinkles her nose. "You can't kill what refussses to die," She whispers, leaning sideways to lend the Warpriest the tip. "It'sss the sssame missstake that /they/ made."

"I attempted to meet with an agent of the Church, your Highness," says Ailith calmly. "She claimed knowledge of and approval of the attacks, and that Sun's Keep could not be taken. They are killing mages and Syladris, Your Highness. I felt it at least proper that you should be informed personally. They feel they are in the right and that the Law, being against the Light, need not be obeyed. I do not believe this is a position open to negotiation, but if your Highness wishes it I will continue to attempt a dialogue."

Zolor Zahir shakes his head, sighing. "The problem, though, is that the Syladris is *right*. Look at what happened in Fastheld when the Church attempted to wipe out all manner of Shadow-Touched mages. Why, they went to ground, didn't they? Formed a little band of outlaws under Faeyd. These revolutionaries in the Church have only to change from armor to sackcloth and they scarcely stand out in a crowd, yes? We could demand that they take a mark of the Light to even the playing field with the Touched, but, well, I somehow doubt they'd cooperate with that. So, we have before us the choices of further negotiations or outright war. Those are certainly the most obvious options. Less obvious, but perhaps more effective, would be to erode their credibility and turn the populace against them. Let the common man solve the problem for us."

"In their minds, I would assume they think the war is already being waged. They are no longer content with remaining a nuisance and hiding behind their walls. Outright attacks have been made against the Syladris, a clan under the protection of the Crown. While I do not doubt that the remnants will remain, such remnants will be far less of a threat than those behind those walls. However, a blatant show of force is merely my belief. I believe the Law should not compromise, Your Highness, but I will certainly not claim my solution is the best. My own Knights have been approached by offers to join them, the offers claiming they will attempt to undergo a large campaign. Their hubris even rises to aspirations to lay waste to the Crown itself. But...perhaps I take them too seriously," speaks the Grand Master, his tone growing genuinely curious as he inclines his head respectfully to the Regent. "What action is it you propose we take, Your Highness? A more subtle solution is likely the best decision."

"Yessss" hisses Tshepsi, reared taller in her stance as her tail writhes more excitably beneath. "Let their bad light ssshine upon themssselves. Not all ssshare in their blindnesss and can be made to sssee how deeply they have wounded thossse undessserving of it. The Sssyladrisss have hurt no one. We are but new born, ssstirred from our ssslumber by the eventsss of thisss world. We had no choice but to be found. The White dragon hasss hurt no one - Ssshe hasss sssaved many. And yet they ssshatter and burn her wingsss. Her face." Lip twitching to bare a fang in silent snarl, Tshepsi sinks back onto herself and plucks her vest buttons with her talons. The tattooed tail tip flexes 'round its imagined enemy and squeezes the air. Her chin bows into her chest. "It isss not right."

Ailith considers this, then nods. "If I can find voices truly able to speak, your Highness, I will do all I can. These actions transgress the Law, and without respect for that Law the Light burns more than it heals."

Zolor Zahir shrugs. "If they have been blatant in their aggression toward the Syladris and the Crown, then we must first institute sanctions against trade with Sun's Keep. The priests do not grow their all of their own food. They do not harvest all of the materials used for their weapons and armor. Any tradesman doing business with Sun's Keep will be marked as a traitor against the realm. First offense will be a fine. The second will be a week in the Fastheld Keep dungeon. The third offense will result in execution - no exceptions. Once the merchants realize that there's no profit in dealing with lunatic radicals, the supplies in Sun's Keep will dwindle away to nothing. They will be starving and thirsty. Their horses will be starving and thirsty. Perhaps then they will see the wisdom of negotiation." He smiles thinly, looking toward Norran. "Naturally, we'll need to put soldiers on the road to Sun's Keep to watch for traitorous merchants and to ensure that the keep is not resupplied until they have come to their senses."

Norran replies with a nod, his demeanor seeming to show he's, for one, satisfied with the Regent's plan. "Short enough of a blockade not to devote too many of our resources into maintaining, but effective. Very well. I'll see that the Guard's commander is informed and that patrols are sent out to watch the region. Fort Moonshadow is situated nearby to the East. The decree against Sun's Keep will be made by the Order by first light. I do not think it will be so easy, but it should effect them none-the-less." A glance is tossed to Ailith briefly before Norran sets his gaze once more on the Regent. "We'll keep you apprised of the progress, Your Highness. I only worry that they may not remain as feeble as we hope and take direct action against the Guard in the region, but we shall see if they are so bold. The Order will continue our investigations into capturing the mercenary groups who choose to take on the old Church's contracts."

"Perhapsss the food that wasss to go to Sssun's Keep can go to thossse whose homesss and food were dessstroyed by the ssstorm - the ssstorm that wasss raisssed becaussse of the attack by the fire men of the Sssun?" Tshepsi reasons quietly, arching a brow and peering hopefully to the one who sits in the shiny throne.

Ailith simply nods. "As you say, your Highness," she acknowledges, leaving the tactical discussion to others.

"If soldiers of the Crown are attacked in the course of carrying out these sanctions, then we will of course consider such behavior an act of war, answerable by brute force," the Steward says matter-of-factly. He lifts his chin. "You have your orders. If the merchants want to shift their commerce to the Syladris and others harmed by the actions of Sun's Keep, perhaps the Crown can see clear to offer a bonus to them."

"Not the Sssyladris..." Tshepsi corrects, nibbling on a fingernail while her other hand wraps itself around her waist. "Your people. The onesss they sssay Tssshepsi hurt."

Norran bows his head in reply to Zolor, "Very well, Your Highness...yes, that is likely the final matter..." trails the Lomasa, giving a glance to Tshepsi before looking back toward the Regent. "As I'm sure you're aware, there was a Shadow'd storm that hit southern Fastheld roughly a sennight. I'm certain you can acertain the cause. It occurred while we were in the lands of Viscountess Celeste Valoria, as the Archmagess wished to visit her along the way. An assault was made by suspected mercenaries of the Church. As you can imagine, no-one was informed of our arrival so they were not aware of the Archmagess's presence. A fire was set to the chapel, and the Archmagess took action...only afterward did we realize how great the action was. She has claimed it was taken farther than she intended, however, the Warpriestess and I are rather at a loss at how to manage the situation, and whether and how we should punish her. With the Prince gone, we're not fully aware of exactly what rights the Archmagess holds. There was extensive damage and some perished in the storm. We can only submit the decision of what is to be done about it to you, Your Highness."

Zolor Zahir knits his brow, considering the situation. "The Archmagess acted with the best of intentions. However, that cannot change the fact that citizens of the realm suffered property loss, injury, and death. I do not think we should hold her personally accountable, however. As a representative of Crown's Refuge, it would fall on them to make recompense for the damages. I will leave it to the Archmagess to meet with other authorities in the protectorate to come up with a proposal for how best to make it up to Fastheld. Reasonable?"

"That was my thought as well, your Highness," nods Ailith. "That if she be seen to assist in rebuilding what was damaged, perhaps sending goods from Crown's Refuge to affected areas, and be willing to meet with the families most affected should they wish, that this might serve to smooth ruffled feathers. It would be difficult to enforce the Syladris Amendment to the letter in this case without doing greater harm, your Highness, as I understand the Archmage is a very central figure to her people and to her city."

Tshepsi shoots a sullied look at Norran from her eyes' corners, pupils narrowed to serpentine slits. Her tail goes on the move again, swaying back and forth... "Yesss, I sssaid I wasss sssorry." Letting her glare abate, the Syladris blinks solemnly aside. "The wild landsss have many treesss. Tssshepsi could asssk sssome to offer themssselves in sssacrifice ssso that othersss may live again under a roof. I am sssure they would agree. Alssso, Pie Maker makesss very good piesss and other food that ssshe could sssend."

"My apologies, Archmagess, but I was not in the position to forgive you. However, no use arguing over solved matters," concludes the Grand Master with a swift grin, giving a final deep bow to Zolor after his words. "Quite acceptable, Your Highness. Unless there's anything else you require of us, that is all the business I have to discuss. Light be with you, Regent. My apologies again for my inability to forewarn of my arrival, and I thank you for your time."

"Thank you for coming," the Steward says. He smiles tautly at the Syladris. "Safe travels, Archmagess. You are all dismissed."

Ailith also bows, and moves to retreat from the Regent's presence, hopefully with said Syladris in tow.

Mustering a little sigh, Tshepsi sweeps forward again. "Tell young Talusss that Tssshepsi came to sssee him. That ssshe would like very much for him to visssit, one day, when he isss older and can ssstay up to sssee the ssstars. Hisss father'sss houssse waitsss for him. I think he would be proud of what we have done to make it ssstronger." Pausing mid-bow, she looks up and adds "Of courssse, if he wantsss to meet Tssshepsi sssooner than that, he need only asssk and ssshe will come." Straightening out, she slithers back towards the reach of her escorts, continuing to chatter. "I wonder if he wasss sssleeping. He isss very young, yesss? If even older than Tssshepsi? Maybe he heard me sssing for him lassst night? I sssang out the window, jussst like from the Tempessst Ssspire, only thisss time I could not crawl outssside. I hope he liked it." And, if that weren't enough, she lifts a finger into the air with suggestion. "Alssso, I think that your horssse boxesss ssshould have their ceilingsss removed. It isss very hard to fit inssside. Asssk the Grand Massster. He had to jump out the window." Nodding sagely, Tshepsi twists her torso to stare at Norran and flash a devilishly toothy grin.

Zolor Zahir blinks. Nods slowly at the Syladris. "I see. Well. Hrm. I will discuss the matter with His Majesty in the morning. Perhaps a trip to Crown's Refuge is in order for him. Might do him good to see his father's house."

A loud cough follows Tshepsi's speech, the source of it clearing his throat and shaking his head slightly as he makes a final bow and turn away to make his way out of the throne room.

Ailith ...almost, perhaps, cracks the faintest of smiles. It might, however, be a flicker of the light as she waits by the doors.

Nodding energetically, Tshepsi finds her second, third, and fourth wind, all the while back-winding to keep pace with the humanfolk. "Yesss, yesss, there isss much for him to do there, even now. Aessseyri, the noissse maker, can ssshow him how to climb treesss, and..." Catching herself, she quiets her tongue and flips the switch back into somber mode, reminded of yet /another/ thing. She stares fixedly at Zolor with eyes more humbled. Pleading, nearly. "There isss one who ssshares your name. He who left thessse landsss and gave Tssshepsi life. Together we built the Ssspire. The Refuge. Over a year he hasss been gone from our home. Tssshepsi cannot sssense him. Ssshe cannot find where he hasss gone. Sssoravyn, hasss he come to walk Fassstheld again?" The scales cease in their rasping, becoming motionless while the Archmage hovers in waiting for reply, fingers knit into one another. Hope - it's a very fine light to guide one's self by, but not one worth abandoning.

Zolor Zahir quirks his mouth into a pale smile as he hears the question of the Syladris. "Soravyn may have returned, but he has not deigned to show his face in Fastheld Keep. That may be for the best. If it gives you any hope, I certainly can tell you that I have heard nothing to indicate he has suffered his demise."

In the scarlet depth of those creature's eyes, something very much human flickers weakly and dies. "No," Tshepsi murmurs softly, casting the chick's basket a final look of farewell. Bed would be cold, this night. "Hisss death Tssshepsi would know. He would visssit dreamsss." Silent at last, the Syladris weaves her way around, slithering complacently between the impatient and bemused escorts and out from the room of throne.

''Return to Season 7 (2008)