Starlight

Oseao wrote:

I chose this specific cliff because it was quiet enough to be honest, and just far enough away from everything to give me some much needed peace and quiet. The ocean stretched out below me, endless and as deeply blue as ever, doing what it has always done regardless of who ruled the land above it. I sat with my legs folded beneath me and placed the crown in my lap, slowly breathing and taking in the sights around me, I let the crown's weight settle there like it belonged. And in fact soon it would to a whole new level then what I had ever experienced before. The thought did not frighten me in the slightest. I am ready to be queen, and i have been preparing for this day for a time longer than most humans are alive. That much I know with absolute certainty.

I ran my thumb along the inner rim of the crown, tracing old etchings that most people, even in and amongst the royal family, never notice. Names, oaths, and other various marks left by hands older than mine. Some of those hands taught me how to rule. Others that I wish could've been here to see me take it. That is something that no ceremony or person can prepare you for honestly, or the void it leaves you with, how power arrives carrying absence with it. And the pain that can bring.

I exhaled slowly and leaned back, letting the remaining stone support me while the wind tugged at my hair like it always does when it wants attention. I did not stop it, nor really pay much attention to it in general. I have learned much about strength both internally and externally during these times, and sometimes maintaining appearances matters. This was not one of those times however.

“They would have liked this,” I said aloud, "they have been preparing me for this most of my life." I glanced towards the ocean again. The ocean answered by breaking harder against the rocks, a sign of strong acknowledgement. Loss is not a language that speaks gently, let alone when its my own mother. But what's a girl to do sometimes. I lifted the crown once more, turned it once in my hands, and then set it down beside me instead of on my head. For a moment, I simply sat there, not as a princess, or anything else more important yet, but as someone who has survived long enough to know both victory and pain. I did not cry, at least immediately. I have done enough of that in places that mattered less and at other times, but despite my best efforts a few tears began to stream down myself again. Despite this, here, I promised that I would let myself feel proud. Proud of what I have endured, learned and proud that even with fewer voices of guidance I keep pushing ahead, and can still hear them when it counts most. “I will rule well,” I promised the wind, the sea, and the memory of all those who should have been standing behind me. “And I will not pretend that losing you made me weaker.”

The forest behind me rustled softly in the wind, in an almost optimistic and approving way. It knows ambition when it hears it and we've known each other my whole life. When I finally stood, I picked the crown up without hesitation and placed it where it belonged, right on my head, displayed bold and completely powerful. The essence and strength of Elarithil. It may feel heavy at times but I will never stop giving my best for my people, and no amount of loss will ever change that.

I turned back toward Elarithil with my head high and my grief displaying openly, soon, the crown will be mine, and I will wear it beautifully and divinely.

Imantica wrote:

Taking a deep breath, coughing out saltwater as he came back to life, Vintaas' eyes flared back up. He instinctively sat up as the hands that had pressed down on his chest just a moment ago began tapping his back to aid him in getting all of the swallowed water out of his lungs.
After what felt like an eternity, the burning sensation in his throat subsided, and the panic that had welled up in his chest was replaced by a wave of relief washing over him in much softer fashion than the actual wave had done. How long had it been? By now, the sun had risen in the East, morning had broken. Several hours must have passed. It was no less than a miracle he had even survived, as, apparently, had the healer accompanying them, an incredibly powerful young woman going by the name of Lazuli.
As his gaze met her sparkling blue eyes, he sighed, leaning back ever so slightly as he burrowed his hands in the sand of the beach they were washed ashore on.

"Are we the only ones that made it?", he asked, afraid of the answer awaiting him. To his surprise, however, the girl shook her head.

"We are six men short. The others have survived." She turned to his leg, which, as he only realized now, appeared to be broken. He stared at his own injury in disbelief over how he did not feel any pain. Adrenaline on its own could never provide as much relief as had been granted upon him. No, it was the magic of the offspring that Lazuli bore, a craft she had honed since her earliest days, that he had to be grateful towards for the fact he was still alive, and not screaming in excruciating pain on top of that.
As she rested her hands on his broken leg, they began glowing red, and the sheer life force that flowed into him turned his entire body warm. Vintaas could hardly even fathom how incredibly powerful she was. Not a warrior by any means, sure, but Lazuli was life incarnate, the one living entity closest to what the Roca considered to be a goddess. At this pace, it would not take her long to unlock the secrets of immortality.

"Thank you, Lazuli", Vintaas whispered. He looked around, regaining his consciousness by the minute, and realized the beach was scattered with the living, albeit exhausted bodies of his crewmates. She had said six were lost - swallowed by the waves, most certainly, the sacrifice Leviathan had decided to feel entitled to - a tragedy in itself, and yet, 14 had survived, including himself.

Lazuli slightly shook her head as she continued her treatment. "No need to thank me for doing what I was born to do", she said in her soft voice. "Your injuries are superficial compared to what happened to Sahrotar. His spine broke in two. It took me an hour just to bring him back to life."

Vintaas looked around alertedly, and his eyes finally locked in to the man he found lying in the sand ten meters to his left. His mouth stood open as he realized how close his best friend had been to losing his life. Was there anything that woman could not make happen?

"Do you happen to know where we are?", he finally asked to make himself forget how close they all had been to the brink of death. "The sun has risen in the open sea... it appears we have landed on another nation's east coast... but apart from that...?"

Lazuli shook her head once more and released the stream of mana that just finished healing Vintaas' broken leg, leaving it in perfectly unscathed condition. "We have lost our captain, our first mate, our navigator, and the historian, too. For all we know, we have probably made it to another continent."

Captain Drascua, dead? Vintaas could not believe it. That woman had sailed the seven seas for far longer than a thousand years, and now she was supposed to have lost her life to the waves? The one time he had decided to accompany her towards unknown territories... Vintaas could hear his mother's voice in the back of his head and, just a moment later, tried to forget about what she had told me prior to his departure - that she felt a shadow creeping upon his soul, that Leviathan would not take his journey lightly, and that she feared for his life - wrongfully indeed, for the time being, and yet, the shadows were apparently present.

"We have no choice but to collect ourselves and try to make it to civilization", Lazuli continued. "The order of our expedition has been lost in the sea, and we have no leader to make decisions for us. It is upon us to take fate into our own hands. And for now, all we can hope to achieve is survival. You wouldn't want my efforts to be in vain, I imagine, Vintaas?"

"No. No, of course not." Vintaas attempted to get on his feet, and flinched in expectation of pain that never came. He had been healed to the fullest extent. Incredible, just incredible, he thought to himself as he wiped the sand off his legs, extending the common Imantican gesture of gratitude towards Lazuli, who would give him a genuine smile in return. "Everyone, let's get moving. We need to find out if we're alone here. I will scout ahead."

With a mighty beat of his black wings, he took to the skies, feeling as alive as ever. Lazuli's gaze followed him for a moment before she turned to a tall, muscular young man next to her. He looked back at her queryingly, and appeared to be confused when she smiled.

"They could have taken anyone, but they spared you. Destiny is a wayward mistress, don't you agree, Hakon?"

The man called Hakon blinked in surprise before smiling back at her through his full beard. "I've never believed in destiny, y'know."

Oseao wrote:

Beyond the village, ancient forests stretched toward the horizon in every direction, the great southern forest swayed in the breeze almost at a rhythm with the surrounding spirits. Somewhere beyond those woods lay Silvarin the bustling trading center, and Malodin the royal city, and all the responsibilities that awaited them, not to mention... Elendir and Liora, but for now there were friends to greet, stories to share, and visitors to welcome. So for now I was perfectly content to simply be home.

Tristaea wrote:

His antennae twitched and he heard his friend’s eager footsteps approaching. Pyasrion walked, cornucopia of future colors in his hands. All around him was the village of all his little dreams. PineBurn kindled a spark of wonder early in Pyasrion, from the Citadel to the every day rising flames of life. The sunset overhead combined with the swirl of his life reminded him that he was about to leave it...if only for a moment to the skies. And he was going to rise like fire, and he was going to plant lovely kindling to spark the wonders of others. The wonders of fire...he too felt very close to the Inferno indeed.

And there he was, Peregris…thrumming wings with autumnal colors; fiery colors. He turned to face Pyasrion, eyes gleaming with a dim pride in himself. “That was quick. It’s just as well—if we don’t go soon I’m going to lose my nerve.” It was mostly a joke, but that anxious air he often had about him resurfaced for a moment. It clung to his words like lichen on tree bark. “We’ll swoop over the clearing first, that way we can drop the seeds and not have to worry about the extra weight. Plus, if we do that I can hold you a bit more steadily for the rest of the flight, That is, so long as we—” He cut himself off briskly. “I’m talking myself out of it. Are you all set?”

Pyasrion's eyes visibly drooped at the potential that the volant invitation was for naught; they hid a misty smoke amongst the ground until they shot back up like the flaring geysers just down south. "YES..." There was no fake out, no fancy dreams; all the dreams had been said... there was only a single, passionate word. And that was all there was to be uttered... The air was not anxious, it couldn't be, for Peregris and Pyasrion were about to FLY. And flowers were about to bloom from gifts of flaming fertility. The lichen that leeched desperately to their gathered kindling had the destiny of being burned. And the skies had the destiny of smoke, and truly, in that moment beyond all else: they had the destiny to be soared.

“Alright,” said Peregris, spinning so that he was behind his friend. He wrapped his upper arms around Pyasrion’s shoulders and his lower ones around his waist. Once, Inedia had carried him like this across hundreds of miles of forest. They had been on the run from terrible things then. Now those things were distant, fleeting shadows, and there was nothing to fear. “Let’s go.”

Peregris’ wings, strong and powerful, beat once. The ground dropped out from beneath them, leaving only a flurry of bewildered pine needles where they had stood. Each second saw them higher and higher, above the rooftops, then above the trees, until the clouds were alongside them. On the day he met Pyasrion, Peregris had said flying made one’s troubles look small. He found that this phenomenon was well in effect, and with a surge of confidence, he embarked on ambitious spins and loops, sending the duo whirling through the sky at blinding, thrilling speeds. As they flew, Peregris caught a glimpse of his friend’s utterly joyous face reflected in an iridescent spot on his wings and felt a smile blossom on his own face as if one of the flowers they were planting had sprung up early. Together the boys rained little embers of life upon the land like hopeful harbingers of a season yet to come.

Stevist Guam wrote:

“So, the prefect of this mysterious country plans to dock in Liberty along the way to Elarithil?” A golden weasel, strangely able to speak in over ten different human languages with surprising clarity, spoke with its trademark silky voice. They (the weasel’s gender was quite ambiguous) were Syiana, the weasel that remembered everything — and a fortuitous pet of Tordre Le Cou, one of the six elite knights of Stevist Guam, currently acting as part of a regency council until the Queen came back to her capital. “I must admit that I do not remember much about this country, Ubertas. Not that many strangers do not dock to our ships, but, I worry about the intention this party has …”

“Easy, easy …” Todre le Cou sighed, her droopy eyelids and bored expression betraying the crackling atmosphere she could draw surrounding her with her aura alone. The figure, quite thick-skinned (literally), grabbed a fistful of sweet bread and crammed it into her mouth. “It’s only natural that a ship like this would sail to Stevist Guam first, even if its final destination is supposedly Elarithil. After all … we are the center of the world.” She sighed. “Besides. What are we going to do about it? If we shake these people headed for Elarithil a bit too hard then it’ll cause problems from our dear Queen also in Elarithil, won’t it?”

“I suppose you’re alright.” The much more slender weasel assented, judgementally starting at their owner’s bread eating habits. “I remember all the standard diplomatic protocols. Our city is … rather drab, and so is our castle, but …” The weasel’s golden fur blushed a bright green, for the creature’s blood, too, was unusually colored.

“Oh come on. I know what you’re thinking. That unlike most normal Steguanians, including amongst my peers and my monarch, I’m anything but.”

— — —

Upon docking in Liberty, the capital city of Stevist Guam put at the southernmost tip of the island where East and West met, the delegation from Ubertas would instantly meet a brusque, somewhat plump female Knight dressed in some sort of brown-colored metal armor, crossing her arms at the pier of Liberty itself. On her side, slopping shoulders, a golden colored weasel wa nearly perched, seemingly sleeping in all tranquility. Her background was rather colorless, for Liberty had few major monuments and its public buildings was not lavishly decorated, in contrast with the colorful and exotic materials sold all over its seaside stalls and packed in its large ports. Even the large, stone castle on high ground that one could faintly see from the docks was only in a gradient of black and white.

“Yo.” The knight spoke. “Heard you were heading to Elarithil. Heard ya wanted to stop by.” She casually patted the nearest person from Ubertas’s shoulder.

“Name is Todre le Cou. I am the strongest single person in all of Stevist Guam. And since my Queen is also in Elarithil right now … I speak for her today.”

She stretched her arms and kicked a big sword from a scabbard in the right side of her hip to her left in a fun trick.

“What’s up?”

The Ministry of Moles wrote:

Edward's courage is born from the womb of isolation. For months unrelenting he has known every brick as intimately as he has known himself. To occupy himself he has feverishly written letters until they cover not only his every thought but his desk and then anything that would carry them. Staring blankly, fixated on a pile of letters mounted on his desk. Softly footsteps enter the chamber though this does not deter Edward from his fixation.

"Isabella?"

"Yes, Edwards. I've brought to you your dinner."

"Your kindness amazes me though still the pleasure like all pleasures remains alien to my mind."

"I hope that tomorrow your mind may be relieved."

"Indeed you must speak sooth just yet. With a sea of ink I have written to the kin of those fallen under my brow. The sorrow which has scared my mind has haunted me like the foulest demon, I thought perhaps I may perish. Perhaps the tears will dehydrate my body or I would have to relieve the pain through one jagged trauma; dagger to neck. The spirits have freed themselves from the ground and under oath have screamed many curses against me. Their faces bloody and bruised would not leave me, and I have hoped that perhaps I may bind them to paper to free myself. In that regard I have failed, an innocent dream I have not known."

"Speak no blasphemy Edward. Any man with a soul would be so filled with dread as you are. I cannot say that this shall leave you in recent memory, for I do not wish to lie. Even still you have immortality to revive your mind and a choir of people who wish to lift your mind with you."

"Your words remain as sweet as they did so long ago. Truth you speak and for this reason I wish for all of my letters to be sent throughout this land of mine and given into the hand of those whom the letters are addressed, of course we must also have them read to the kin for I doubt many may be able to parse ink."

"Your words are my command."

"Have my most esteemed guests come to my royal table as I have commanded of them."

"They have and done so with flesh of their own."

With robes draping along smooth floors Edward hovers through halls his own yet made alien. Kept under guard by high ceiling and good light Edward convenes with his lords.

"Hail Karl Luxeria, fair Arch-Duke of Quentos how do you fair?"

"I do well my liege."

"Hail Julius Penhammer, King of Ajezar how do you fair?"

"I fair much better in your presence Prince."

"Hail Peter Teramin, King of Gerinsderby how do you fair?"

"As well as always my leige."

"Hail James Greywalk, King of Westham how do you fair?"

"Very well and fair my leige."

"And hail Lucus Edingmanor, Duke of Edingmanor how do you fair?"

"Well my leige."

"I have summoned you for you are my most beloved subjects. These words do not leave my mind with ease, thus they belong to you lot and you lot alone. The victims of war have not simply stayed at the stones of their final rest but have come and infiltrated my mind as well. I cannot bear war and I doubt you do either or would either if you have seen a mountain bathed in blood."

"Yet if we do not commit to war how will we convert the pagan lands?"

"A good question indeed Julius. After seeing the scared faces of peasants escaping burning huts I have come to a revelation. Violence will do nothing for our campaign in actually it may make others detest us. Perhaps we can convert them without blood but through reason."

"And you expect these savage pagans to let us speak truth against their regime of lies. The pagan knows only force as their faith thusly we must reply force."

"If the religion of the pagan is violence then what does that make our religion if it is one built on violent conquest. If what you say is true which I have no reason to doubt, then we must become a religion of peace for peace is truth. Therefore I wish to establish an alliance beyond borders built through trust, marriage, gold, or whatever else it may require. A Dextera League. Within this League we will establish trade that may undoubtably benefit all of you, and for the benefit of our Truth we will establish missions as well to teach. Is this to your liking my beloved subjects."

"Yes my liege"

Looked after by darkness Julius and Lucus convene.

"This stands evidence of the wickedness of the line of Harold. He wishes to please the grim wishes of paganism and heresy rather then expand the faith. Doubtless as he was hiddden in his chamber he was committing many blasphemies."

"Edward is a Prince both divine and secular. He simply wishes to appease the lords."

"Lords like Luxeria? The wretched merchant-lord knows no god but greed, if these are the men that the heretic-prince wishes to appease then that is all more the reason for revolution."

"You speak many truths Julius. Indeed the only path that can be made in sincerity is the path of rebellion."