to whom it may concern

[Talon]

T A L O N

14 Ash 121

Talon sat quietly within his chambers reviewing paperwork that had been submitted to him a few days ago. He had been so busy with other duties that he was only now just sitting down to review it.

“Thank you.” He gave a smile of gratitude to the servant who placed a tray of hot tea and a few snacks nearby. Picking up a cup, Talon sipped at the tea with a satisfied sigh. It helped to push back the edges of his anxiety.

“Do you require anything further, my prince?” Talon shook his head.

“No. I will call if anything is needed.” The servant bowed low backing out of the room and was joined by a few others who had gone about setting up his office for the morning’s tasks. Talon had requested he be left alone to review much of the paperwork brought before him. As the servants and office staff exited, he turned his attention to the documents. In front of him were no less than perhaps a dozen requests for an audience with the Shokaze. As the Shinsei, one of his duties was to assess the requests and determine whether or not the matter actually required the intervention of his father directly or if it could be settled by either himself or one of the Daizoku.

Reading over the first request he almost immediately knew it was something that did not require his father’s intervention. A dispute between two nobles over the rights to agricultural lands and who could claim the soil. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and quietly began to pen his response. Farming and agricultural disputes were the purview of House Senue. He would redirect the matter to their offices. No doubt the nobles in question had been wanting something more to be done given they had chosen to bring the matter before the Shokaze, but Talon went out of his way to dismiss petty squabbles as soon as he received them so that his father could focus on more pressing affairs. Once he finished reviewing that request, Talon shuffled the papers, signed it and added his seal, then filed the request away to be picked up at the appropriate time.

He picked up the next docket and began reading through the material. It was another request for audience with the Shokaze. This one was concerning lines of inheritance and the question of what assets went to who and who was the rightful claimant to a Kozoku House. As a matter of title dispute, this was something that had to go before his father to adjudicate appropriately. Just browsing through the documents, it was clear that the now deceased Lord had no direct successor and thus his relatives were clamoring to make their own claims to his estate. Looking more closely at the docket, he made a few notations concerning missing paperwork. The Bank of Kalzasi would have to certify the alleged assets. The Koiteki House over the Kozoku estate would have to provide certification that both parties had legitimate claims to the assets. Picking up a piece of paper, Talon began to outline the documents that were required before the matter would be passed to his father for final judgement. He glanced at his father’s calendar briefly before assigning the claimants a deadline to have the documents sent to his office.

Reaching over, Talon picked up his cup of tea and brought it to his lips. He took another sip of the warm brew and let out a sigh through his nose. He looked at another set of documents sent over from the Board of Overseers of the mining company. There was another set of documents from the Sky Guard.

It was going to be a long day of bureaucracy but it was all part of ensuring his homeland continued to run smoothly.

[Mirage]

Time was a peculiar thing. It marched ever forward, like a river that ran downhill or a stone thrown off a cliff. It made twists and turns, spilt and converged hundreds, thousands of times. In the choices of mortals there existed a great power to alter the course of history, for despite what some thought the future was not set in stone. In their hubris mortals thought they could control the path of time, but rarely did the kings and queens of the ages realize they were but one of many before them to try such things. Time was not a river. It was a circle, for time and time again the same mistakes were made, the same wars waged, and the same good men perished over and over and over. Their children left without a father, the bodies of friends and companions left broken on the edge of the stream, and for what? Just another repetition in the grand tapestry of the universe. What was the point then? Was there one? Maybe not, but he had made a promise to a dead man, and to a live one as well.

There was no grand announcement, or warning, or fanfare. He suddenly appeared, sitting on the window seal with his hands folded neatly in his lap. An old man, bald but for a few wisps of grey hair and a beard that reached down to his waist. He wasn't quite a wastrel, but his clothing had seen better days and those blue eyes were far wearier than even a man his age should be. Thelius... No, not Thelius today. Arthel of Greymon stared at the back of Talon's head, expression somber as he produced a pipe from somewhere in the folds of his robes. With a flick of a finger the pipe was lit, and he took a long draw as he continued to examine the young man. He could see it, the nimbus of power that marked Talon for what he was. Through the lines of time, he read what he had been through, and through the whispers of the objects in the room, he heard the story of what sort of man he had become.

"I found you." Arthel said aloud, letting his presence be known. He blew out a ring of smoke, still staring at Talon as if not quite sure what to make of him. He didn't smile, but grimaced, "It took far too long. Far too long..."

[Talon]

T A L O N

The hairs on the back of Talon’s neck stood on end. A ripple of something wounds its way up his spine making the feathers of his wings rustle. He looked up from where he was writing as he felt that shift in the world around him vaguely on the edges of his senses. When that voice interrupted the silence of the room, Talon shot to his feet. One hand grasped the chair, shoving it away from his body. His wing swept out, brushing aside the chair and fanning out protectively as he whirled around. In his mind, he briefly relieved the attack he’d suffered in the High Hopes tavern. He felt the bite of the Archwraith’s chains in the year before that. He felt the whisper of a dagger barely missing his throat as a boy before that. Too many times in his life had the threat of death come on the heels of a person who simply appeared out of nowhere for him to not go on the defensive. He faced the old man, his silver eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” Talon focused his thoughts. He calmed his nerves and mentally went through the motions of centering himself so that he could be fully there in the present moment. He drew no weapons.

He made no move to unleash the powers at his command. But he opened himself up to the flow of his rune magic in order to protect himself if the need arose. Before him was an elder with wisps for hair and a long beard that went down to his waist. Talon was not one to judge appearances. There were elders twice his age that could reduce buildings to rubble with a flick of their thoughts. Some of the most powerful people in all of Karnor were elderly and wore the robes of the Circle of Spells or carried the weight of experience on their shoulders from years in the Sky Guard.

[Mirage]

Arthel gave an amused smile at Talon's reaction, one which quickly sobered as he drew on his pipe once more. It was to be expected. This was a man often beset by enemies, who had known love and loss that could drive any man mad with grief. He took a few seconds to answer, but when he did his words were soft and uncharacteristically serious.

"Arthel Greymon, of House Greymon, the last of the Justicar of Tirin." As he said this he stood slowly to his feet, grimacing as if the movements pained him before dipping into a half bow before straightening as much as he could, "And you are Talon Alexios Novalys, son of Savien and Sahfri Novalys."

The words were familiar to Talon in some way, like a dream mostly forgotten but pieces still remained. Arthel looked at Talon as a man looked at a monument, a mixture of respect, devotion, and deep sadness. With a shake of his head, he looked away, rubbing his eyes with one hand for a moment before looking out the window, "I took too long, and for that I am sorry. Truly sorry."

He drew a shaky breath before clearing his throat and turning to face Talon once more. His eyes hardened slightly before his expression softened, and a small smile crinkled the edges of his beard and made the wrinkles on his forehead stand out. There was a slight shift in his stance as if he were putting on a new persona before continuing.

"I am sure you have many questions." It was an obvious statement, which he punctuated with a jab of his pipe in Talon's direction. Then with a nonchalant snap of his fingers, a ripple coursed through the air, vibrating the world for a moment before everything settled. Arthel continued on as if nothing had happened, "Don't bother looking too far past the veil. I've long since learned how to hide from the eyes of demigods, especially the untrained like yourself. I'm not here to hurt you, not that I could, but to deliver a message."

He grinned around the pipe between his teeth, blue eyes now twinkling with mischief. If Talon did try to look at him with his senses, magical or not, he would find that the man simply wasn't there. Not masked, not obscured. It was as if he did not exist at all, save for what Talon could see with his own eyes and hear with his own ears.

[Talon]

T A L O N

To his credit, Talon had dealt with enough blustering villains and would-be killers that he actually had not expected the man to answer his question. Proclamations of death, followed by declarations about how he was about to die were something he had come to expect from encounters involving random magical manifestations from strange people. Speeches about how ignorant and woefully ill-prepared he was, made by beings with great power, whether a demon from the Warrens or just a maniacal mage or assassin, had become a norm for him. So when the old man answered him directly and humbly, Talon was left at a little bit of a loss for words. There was one thing that made something resonate within his memory however. Justicar. The word held meaning to him and it called to a part of his soul that he was still trying to figure out. Despite having been termed a demigod for nearly a year at that point, Talon still felt no more knowledgeable or particularly godly than when he had started.

Too many questions had not been answered. Too much was still happening in the world that felt far above his head than he truly felt prepared for. Still, he was at least grateful to have an introduction.

“Arthel.” Part of him felt as though he should know that name or at least the person that was attached to it. He drew a blank however and simply settled for the inclination of his head by way of greeting.

At the mention of his state at being an untrained demigod, Talon could not argue with it. He did not argue with it at all, neither by word nor by posture. He let out a sigh, folding his arms over his chest as he tucked his wings in close. He was not put at ease but he would at least entertain the idea that this strange man meant him no harm.

“I do have questions. Many of them, as you say. Let us start with the obvious one.” He leaned back against the edge of his writing desk. His eyes remained fixed on the old man, one of his brows arching as that ripple went out into the world. He braced himself, expecting some sort of attack. When nothing happened, he pressed on.

“What is your message, Justice Arthel?”

[Mirage]

Arthel's eyes came alight at the title, true joy showing through at hearing himself called by such after so very long. If possible his grin grew wider, but he restrained any outburst. In response he simply bowed his head once more, motioning his hand as if he were tipping a hat.

"You are very accepting despite all reason to distrust my words. I find that endearing in a way." The old man laughed as he straightened, once more puffing on his pipe before continuing, "The message is a simple one. My friend, and my companion, requests that you meet him at what you call the Circle of Wandering." He raised a finger as if to forestall any questions, "Before you ask, I cannot give his name. He has quite the pension for dramatics, and I wouldn't wish to ruin his façade of mystery."

The old man seemed to repress an eyeroll and simply shrugged. He then lapsed into silence, simply staring at Talon for several long seconds. His eyes traced his body, his wings, and the edges of the nimbus that was still visible to him. As he stared his expression sobered, his smile fading somewhat before he finally said, "You really must learn to hide yourself. Were it not for the weave of calamity that shrouds this city you would be like a pillar of flame in a barren wasteland. Too bright, and far too obvious."

[Talon]

T A L O N

“I have had an interesting year.” Some might call him naive but Talon was not so lacking in awareness of his own personal skills to be timid. He was not without his fears. He was not without caution but he knew his own capabilities. He could either be afraid of every shadow that wandered his way or he could accept that he was either prepared to rise to the challenge or he was not. At the mention of the man’s friend, he could only arch an eyebrow. So he was to meet someone? Would that bode good or ill? He had no way of knowing except for when he went to meet this person.

Something in the man’s gentle admonishment sent a shiver down Talon’s spine. It had the ring of a warning to it. It stirred the memory of his conversation with Andrus. It stirred the memory of seeing his past lives play out before him. Each one of those people seemed to have set themselves upon a course to face a terrible evil. Each one of them, including Arcas himself, had fallen in the face of that terrible evil. While they might have defeated it for a time, it all seemed to keep repeating itself. Was that because they too had not learned to hide themselves? He could not know until he learned. As it stood, he was ready to learn everything he could.

“The calamity?” His mind immediately went to the old stories. The Calamity was said to be a being that his ancestors had fought upon first settling in Kalzasi. Was this the same calamitous entity? Or was the old man referring to the dark chaos that swirled around the Warrens? More questions kept rising in Talon’s mind. He did not linger on them overly long, merely tucked them away. He shook his head.

“When am I to meet him? What should I bring with me?” He began to run through the mental list of things he was prepared to outfit himself with. Setting out and embarking upon a long journey was nothing new to him. How many times had he delved into the Warrens already?

[Mirage]

"The Calamity." Arthel nodded. He stroked his beard as he looked toward the mountains visible through the window,"It has been dormant for so long, yet it spread its influence over this area. I don't know why, but it is likely the only reason you are alive today. It made it very difficult to find you, but I fear what it will attract."

With a shake of his head he turned back to Talon, smiling once more as he chewed the end of his pipe, "Wear your best armor, bring your best weapons, and ward your heart for what is to come. Humble yourself if you can, for in nearly 9,000 years he has not lost a duel." Arthel paused and amusement shown in his eyes, "Save for once a few centuries back, but he would like to think that one does not count."

The message was delivered, and a year long mission complete. A burden seemed to ease from Arthel's shoulders as he sat back upon the window seal, resting his back against the glass as he looked around the room. He knew he should go, but he couldn't help himself. He asked the question he knew he shouldn't ask.

"Are you happy this time?" The old man didn't look at Talon as he spoke the words, but instead focused on the hovering solar system above them, "Did you find purpose in your life?"

[Talon]

T A L O N

There were two things in Arthel’s initial statement that caused alarm in Talon. The first was the confirmation of the Calamity’s actual existence. It was a figure obscured in Synnekar myth that was about as real as their origins to Talon, something surrounded in more legend than anything else. The second thing was the implication that it was only because of the Calamity’s influence that he was still alive. Talon was no stranger to people wanting him dead. He had lived with attempts on his life for the entirety of his life. Nevertheless, the gravity of what the old man was saying was not lost on him. In fact, it made him wonder who else was out there who wanted to see his demise. For a moment, a great weariness washed over Talon but he pushed it aside.

From what little he had gathered from the glimpses of his past lives, the threats to his life and the lives he had lived were neverending. If he trusted his instincts, which he did, he had a strong feeling that the coming days were only going to get more complicated. When Arthel made mention of bringing his best armor and weapons, Talon was fully prepared for that. His heart however, he was not sure.

“9,000 years?” That took a moment to process before he shook his head with a smile.

“Perhaps I will be the one who counts, then.” Talon gave a small smirk. It was a jest. If he was about to face a man who had not lost a duel in such an incomprehensible lifespan, he would go into the bout with determination but he would not be foolish. Observing the old man, he watched as it seemed a weight lifted from his shoulders. How long had he been searching? Why had he been searching at all?

“I am happy with the people I have found.” Talon thought on his soon to be husband, Aoren. He thought on his partner Rickter. He thought on the friends that he had made and the life he had lived. “But it would be an untruth to say that I am happy.”

He shook his head. He thought on the tension that was rising between his homeland and Zaichaer. He thought on the struggles that his people faced every day. The threat of the Warrens. The simple complications of the disparity between the nobility and the common man. The injustices faced by people who fell through the cracks and who were forced to fend for themselves in a world that failed them. These things made him unhappy. The pain he saw in his father’s eyes every time he beheld the few members of House Novalys that were left. Talon’s life, despite being a prince, had not been easy. It had not been a joyous life. Every day had been hard won through blood, sweat, tears, and through sheer willpower in figuring out how to move forward.

“I am still searching for my purpose, but I believe I am on the path to finding it.” He was still young. Very young for an Avialae. There was still much that he wanted to see and accomplish as the years stretched on. He hoped he would have the time to do most of it. Taking in a deep breath he nodded.

“I shall collect my things. I will meet this man at the Circle of Wandering as was asked. But I will not be alone. My bondmate will join me.”

[Mirage]

Arthel listened quietly while Talon spoke, his eyes wandering the room before falling on the winged man once more. Smoke formed a ring around his head as he blew out and raised a hand apologetically.

"It was an unfair question." he said with a shrug, "We rarely recognize happiness until it is gone, and purpose changes with the times."

Stroking his beard he smiled around his pipe, "You mean the one with the raven black wings? I am sure my companion would not mind. He might even let you work together." The thought seemed amusing to Arthel who chuckled softly to himself, though his eyes grew distant as he stared past Talon. His brows furrowed and the hand stroking his beard paused for a moment before he continued, "That one has seen much I think. A good soul, loyal too, but there are still some ties that haven't been broken."

Another pause followed as Arthel's eyes refocused on Talon, "Yes, bring him. He might need this more than you do."

With another groan and the creak of old bones Arthel stood and rubbed his back, "The message is delivered. Go to the location whenever you wish. He will know when you arrive. I suppose I will be off now, but before I go..." He reached his wrinkled hand forward, palm up toward Talon, "There is something I wish to give you."