Gods Save the Queen (Paragon)

[Lyra]

1st of Ash, 122 AS

Time: Early Morning
Location: Palace of the First Wind

The music of the city had changed over the past few seasons. As she walked up the steps of the palace Lyra reflected on the last time she had been here... She could not quite remember. Perhaps it was to tutor the first Prince, or maybe when Rickter and the pups were still guests of the noble family. She had been inside the palace numerous times, not always invited, so it felt somewhat familiar to her now. The person she had come to meet was not someone she spoke with often, and this would be their first conversation face to face in quite some time though they had traded letters since the previous Frost. Much had changed. More than either of them could have anticipated, but now there was to be a reckoning.

Pausing at the top step Lyra turned back to look at the city, at the peaks that made up Kalzasi. When she closed her eyes she could hear the music of thousands of souls all singing as one. Before the war with Zaichaer there had been something of a harmony to it all, or perhaps she had not been strong enough to hear the uneasy undertones before. Thinking back to her first trip to Zaichaer, Lyra could not help but note that the Jewel of Karnor sang a very similar hymn to the now fallen city.

Turning away and heading inside Lyra let the guards guide her the rest of the way in. They had seemed perplexed at first, but it could not be helped. Lyra to them was a human girl with black hair, but the one claiming that name and title of owner of Ale'Epherium was an elf with silver hair. After some discussion they seemed somewhat at ease as she still had the same golden eyes, and the black snake curled around her shoulders. She wore her usual robes of gold and black, but her hair was left loose around her shoulders. They did not say it, but Lyra could hear the uncertainty in their symphonies. It could not be helped, for no matter how she tried she could not full hide her otherness. Black lines that moved on their own were just barely visible at her neckline, and there were streaks of black like tattoos at the corners of her eyes, like she had recently cried tears of ink. One hand absnently touched this newest mark, and her expression softened somewhat as she thought of the events that lead to the additional changes. The one who had given her purpose, the one she was linked to so intimately now...

They stopped in front of the door to what Lyra could only assume was Sahfri's office, or perhaps her chambers? With a smile Lyra waved away the guards, assuring them she had things in hand, and let them return to their posts. There were other eyes watching her from just out of sight. She could not pierce their stealth, but their souls glowed bright to her eyes. The Iron Queen had much need to be cautious, especially now it seemed.

Reaching up Lyra knocked on the door, folding her hands at her waist as she waited to be invited in.

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

The doors to the chamber opened and Lyra was treated to the sight of Sahfri’s personal laboratory and study. One of them, at least. The chamber was divided into two floors. The lower floor had various altar spaces devoted to necromancy, alchemy and other forms of world magic. Most of them lay empty but a few of the ones clearly devoted to necromancy had projects in various stages of completion present within them. Situated at the center of the room was a black writing desk, behind which stood three chalkboards upon which were scrawled the arcane research notes of someone who was clearly a master of the magics they commanded. At a glance, Lyra would be able to discern that it was Sahfri’s elegant but crisp script. The Siltori woman herself was seated behind the writing desk. She wore none of the finery associated with her station. Her silver-white hair and pale skin contrasted starkly with the velvet black robes that she wore.

The music of Sahfri’s symphony was melancholic but stern. As soon as Lyra touched upon her mind, Sahfri responded not by pushing her away but by performing the mental equivalent of lacing their fingers together, holding Lyra’s Mesmeric attention. Sahfri looked up as Lyra drew nearer. She placed her pen down, ceased whatever work had been occupying her before, and gave the woman her full attention. It was a mark of respect that Sahfri had for Lyra that she was not dismissive of the ancient woman’s presence. Few people received Sahfri’s full attention, mundane or magical. Lyra did.

She remained silent until the doors of the chamber closed. When they did, Sahfri sent out a soft wave of command across the symphony of her private space. The various souls visible to Lyra slowly drifted further away until they departed the chamber entirely.

“Lyra.” Sahfri dipped her head then paused and quirked her head slightly. “Or is it Lyrielle?”

There was another beat as Sahfri assessed the woman in front of her with her eyes.

“I see you found what you were searching for.”

[Lyra]

Not a study, but a full lab greeted Lyra as the doors swung open on soundless hinges. Lyra's eyes scanned the room and the equipment it contained, pausing on the chalkboards before settling on the woman behind the black writing desk. As always the Iron Queen possessed an intimidating air, giving off a heaviness and authority which Lyra now recognized as products of the powerful soul she possessed. Her symphonies were little changed from when they had last spoke, which seemed odd to Lyra though perhaps for one such as the Iron Queen a few life altering tragedies was not enough to crack the fortress of her calm demeanor.

Lyra walked slowly into the lab, taking time to appreciate the asethetic of it all as it represented the person she had come to see. The connection Sahfri extended to her Lyra accepted without pause, letting their melodies interweave and syncronize with the other. The watchers drew away, earning a small smile from Lyra who finally reached the desk. Artur raised his head to look unblinkingly at Sahfri, his tongue tasting the air before he settled behind Lyra's curtain of hair once more.

The other woman's first question elicited a slight grimace, her words echoing an old memory of a disturbing man.

"Both." she said after a moments thought, "For good or ill we shall yet see."

Lyra, or rather Lyrielle, was not a separate personality, and neither could claim to be the real owner of the mind they both inhabited. Both were a persona, a mask for a soul that had all but forgotten who it was supposed to be, who it used to be. Lyra the shopkeeper was just the most recent addition to the collection of temperaments and opinions, and being the one who faced the current age most often she seemed the most logical face to adopt more often than not. More disconcertingly were the opinions Lyra had begun to develop in regards to the other facets of herself. Lyrielle had begun to prove herself troublesome, if not outright damaging, to their personal well being. Her tendency to through caution to the wind whenever that... man came into the picture disturbed Lyra greatly, so to be directly asked who it was she presented was a bit distasteful.

Raising a hand Lyra playfully flexed her fingers and turned her palm out to face Sahfri, "We have found some of what we desired, but there is still more that must be claimed."

The other shards were out there, the ones that had chosen to remain separated from them. They would need to be collected soon, and after that... Well that was still to be seen.

Lyra's eyes shifted away from Sahfri and to the boards behind her, "Much has happened since we last spoke. For us, and for you."

Her golden eyes found Sahfri's again, "We are told there is to be a discussion today to decide the fate of Kalzasi. We would like to attend."

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

“For good and ill, you mean.” Sahfri mused. Many were the stories of Lyrielle tu Kovash Elmari. None of them depicted her as a creature for good but there were moments of goodness and mercy sprinkled about her legend. She was a daughter of chaos, a force of her own choosing, something Sahfri knew well and respected.

“Much indeed.” Sahfri stared at Lyra unblinking. Her tone was flat but the emotion behind her mask of calm was vast. It was not that Sahfri felt nothing for the events that had transpired over the past many seasons. She felt everything that came naturally to a woman who desperately loved her children. A woman who was willing to sacrifice everything and more for them. She simply did not let those emotions overwhelm her to inaction.

“You upheld part of your promise. Zaichaer is in ruins. Who the true power is in the Northlands remains to be seen but that is not your burden to uncover. You have cleared the way. The rest is up to us to decide on our own. That part of your oath is fulfilled.” Sahfri folded her hands together. “Now we turn to the Imperium.”

She leaned back in her chair, reflecting on Lyra’s request.

“Only the nobility of Kalzasi are afforded an opportunity to attend this meeting. Are you here to petition me for an exception or for an appointment to nobility?” Sahfri quirked an eyebrow.

“Regardless, it is fortuitous that you do request an opportunity to attend. Your…influence would be most useful in assisting me in engineering the outcome.” She rose from her chair, walking around from the desk in order to step more closely to Lyra. As she did, one of the books on a nearby stand drifted through the air in order to come to her outstretched hand.

“There are three factions that hold influence within Kalzasi’s Assembly of Lords.” She opened the book, flipping through a few of the pages. “The Traditionalists are the most numerous but their influence is waning. They would have the status quo remain the same. Kalzasi unchanged even when faced with the truth that Kalzasi has changed. They are representative of old views befitting an older world that is the byproduct of an aged people who live much longer than the largely human population that comprises the bulk of our subjects.”

It was clear from her musings that Sahfri did not support the Traditionalists. The very fact that she reigned was Queen-Regent with nearly unchecked authority over all of Kalzasi was testament to the fact that she was what they did not want. A small but smug smile touched on her lips.

“They are moving as quickly as they can to remove me from power. Not that it matters. The throne has been a vessel. It has served its purpose for me. It is time for its true successor to occupy it.” She shrugged a shoulder. Sahfri was, if nothing else, a woman who remained pragmatic in the face of what was in front of her. Her position as Queen-Regent had served its purpose. It was time for her to move on to other avenues of pursuing her agenda.

“The second group of power within the Assembly of Lords are the Constitutionalists. They who purport to hold themselves to the letter of intent of Kalzasi’s founding laws. They differ little in view from the Traditionalists except in that they wish to ensure that no one Great House can retain the throne for more than a single generation at a time. When one sovereign passes, the crown shall pass to another House, the previous one barred from inheritance until at least one other House has occupied the throne. One point of interest, I think, is that they wish to expand Kalzasi’s control over the Northlands. With Zaichaer out of the way, they see this as the perfect opportunity to capitalize on their ideals.” Her eyes scanned over the page in front of her as she paced lightly back and forth as she voiced her thoughts. Not that she needed to voice them, her thoughts were open to Lyra but voicing them helped to solidify them for her, perhaps out of habit.

“Finally, there are the Monarchists.” Here, Sahfri paused. “They wish a complete dissolution of Kalzasi’s current system in favor of its overhauling. Not dissimilar to the Imperium itself, they wish for a solitary governing power in the territory, that of the Sovereign. Tizan Veyl, the Speaker of the Council of Elders, believes he is clever in concealing his string pulling of this group. Still, they have served my purposes well enough and though he is loath to admit it, my regency has strengthened the voice of the Monarchists to have a much wider base of support.” Sahfri closed the book in her hands, holding it to her chest as she processed her thoughts. She was quiet for a few moments as she considered the options in front of her.

“The Traditionalists must lose power. Neither Kalzasi nor the Free Cities of the North can continue on in the fashion they have been. The fall of Zaichaer, the Miststorms, the disturbances in the Warrens, they have weakened our internal infrastructure. Not just Kalzasi, all of the Free Cities. The Vykul Hordes, a legion of raiders, cannibalists, barbarians, and blood ritualists have been gaining momentum. The Dragon Riders of Antiris are no longer as well equipped to fend them off and the Queen of Antiris is steadily dealing with problems of her own.” She sighed heavily, folding her arms over her chest as she considered the much broader politics of the region at large.

“Zeraphesh has been dealing with food shortages and devastation following the miststorms and advances by Zaichaeri armies. Shemashk has reported a crumbling of the Ghost Wall, leading to disturbingly familiar trends of ghosts and undead rising. Similar to the Graveplague. Haqs is all but defenseless now that Zaichaer’s forces are scattered. Satesoria is dealing with upheaval as the Order of Reconciliation is consolidating power there, likely to overthrow the Marchioness. And Kathiid? The Grand Admiral is now facing down the prospect of Zaichaeri exile occupation. Several of Zaichaer’s former inner circle have fled to the city along with a bulk of its former army. How long before the two forces clash?” Sahfri shrugged her shoulders. She considered heavily the path that was ahead of her. She did not like the position that the Northlands were in. There was disarray and disunity everywhere. Even the deliberations to choose Kalzasi’s next sovereign and how it would go about choosing the next sovereign were going to be difficult to navigate.

“Tell me. Why do you wish to attend these deliberations? What is it you hope to achieve?”

[Lyra]

The oath made was in part fulfilled. The problem that was Zaichaer had been culled, yet portions of what was promised were yet delivered. In looking back at the words she spoke that day Lyra saw the vagueness of them in a different light. It was moment of lapse judgement on her part, and a mistake she had not made since, yet she knew she could not be all to blame for the outcome. Who would have thought the Oath Keeper himself would appear, for in ages past he had shown little active interest in the details of the bargains sworn on his blood. Unfortunately with the mistlords eyes so focused on her actions it gave Lyra little room to maneuver. Now, though, things were different. In the end that same vagueness which troubled her in seasons passed had given her a new path.

"I am certain every proper assembly needs a skilled scribe in attendance." Lyra replied, following Sahfri's movements as she came closer, "Surely an exception is better for us all, and I would rather not be burdened by a title of nobility."

Her words were truthful, but through their link the deeper meaning of them was apparent. The mere thought of a noble title brought feelings of disgust to Lyra, and to Lyrielle as well. Images of old courts, memories of ancient times that brought the taste of bile to her tongue flashed and then were gone again. Even without saying it, Lyra knew Sahfri's intention clear. The Iron Queen would find a way to implant Lyra in the discussions, as a tool to maneuver events to her desired outcome. This, too, was a part of their arrangement and something Lyra did not dislike. They were tools to one another, and so long as Lyra got what she wanted she would do as this woman wished as well.

While listening to the descriptions of the different parties Lyra rose slightly into the air, dark smoke floating from her skin as she lightened herself enough to sit with legs crossed and hands folded in her lab beside the queen. She looked curiously over the other woman's shoulder as she read, absently running a thumb over the fabric of her robe where her hand pressed against her abdomen. The Traditionalist seemed akin to the elders of her time, stuck in a loop of endless cycles, clinging to the old ways as they admonished anything new or novel. They represented stagnation in a time when adaptation was necessary, and Lyra agreed with the sentiments Sahfri offered in regard to them. Yet that still left the question as to what it was Sahfri really wanted. The obvious answer was her son put on the Throne as a King of the North, but was that the right way?

"It seems that there is a need to unify the powers of the North." Lyra mused, looking up at Sahfri as she did, "Actions require swift decisions, and a leader who can implement his changes without unneeded bureaucracy."

It was not a bad thing to have laws and economics ruled over by a council or body of authority, but such measures were unsuitable for times of war. When it came time to spill blood, the side which too longer to act would inevitably be wiped out by the force that could mobilize at the word of a single man or woman.

"Then you wish to have the traditionalist movement quashed in favor of one of the other parties." Lyra tapped her chin in thought. Many of the names and places Sahfri mentioned were unknown to Lyra, and she filed them away for future examination. Dragon Riders, the Ghost Wall, threats of famine and inevitably plague. These were all the makings of a sudden and major change in the world, and where they now stood would be the epicenter of it all.

The queens last question gave Lyra pause, and she did not answer for several long seconds. Glancing down at her hands she considered, and her thoughts became somewhat muddled as odd emotions tumbled about. Then everything calmed once more as Lyra asserted her will over her soul and smiled down at her hands which now rested still in her lap.

"I am keeping to our oath." she said finally, "I... we have seen the rise and fall of more kingdoms and empires than you could possibly imagine. The scent of change hovers like a miasma over the Northern Cities, and it is here that it all originates."

Looking up at Sahfri once more Lyra continued, "I wish to ensure that this city is ready to receive what is coming once the true power in the North is revealed. Then, once the region is stabilized and in hand, the Imperium will be reigned in."

Kalzasi had to be stabilized, and more importantly someone who would be favorable toward Lyra herself needed to hold power. Preparations were underway, but there was little time. This city needed to become a bastion of strength in the region, for it was here that her greatest work would come to reside. A new sense of determination welled in Lyra's heart, as she swore to make a place for her child to grow safely until she was able to come into her own power.

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

Sahfri considered Lyra for a moment. She observed the floating form of the elven ancient. The thoughts that passed through her mind as she considered the weight of a noble title were received. The queen's thoughts turned to other political matters.

"Perhaps. It might be wise if you were not granted such a title. The Assembly might see it as an attempt to weigh the odds." Not that Sahfri cared. Her opinion was clear in that she saw only a few paths ahead of them. She allowed Lyra to peer into her thought process.

"Tizan Veyl is a competent businessman. He is a negotiator and an adept assessor of the odds. He wants the throne. But he knows he lacks the charisma for inspiring loyalty outside of coin and promises. His wealth can buy him the support to make him a cursory contender at best." Sahfri ran a hand along the edge of her desk. She tapped her nails upon the wood, fingers tracing over several patterns painted upon the black surface.

"What he cannot buy, he will attempt to win through favors owed. Promises of land, wealth, power and titles once the throne is solely and universally his. He knows he does not have the support of the other Great Houses. So he will push himself forward through sheer number of supporters among the Assembly." Sahfri sounded neither worried nor bothered. In fact, she almost sounded bored.

"He will lose. He knows this. I know this. It is likely a ploy. An attempt to dilute the voting pool." She looked over at Lyra.

"Karam Senue is the orchestrator of this arrangement. Unlike Highlord Veyl, he does possess the charisma and force of character to lead. He is loved by the common population, just as my son is loved. He was a warrior who fiercely defended others at the Black Wedding, saving many lives. He has stepped into the role of Daizoku of House Senue as a strong leader ahead of his elder brothers. He is known to have voiced an interest in courting Talon." Sahfri paced back and forth. She tapped her chin in thought as she considered the options in front of her. Her face was largely impassive, a habit from decades of courtly life. Her thoughts, however, were alive with activity.

"He is intelligent and an able leader. We must persuade him to ally with House Novalys. Wealth will not suffice. He has power aplenty." She contemplated the road ahead. The Iron Queen paused.

"A union. The promise of children, perhaps? The prospect of a dynasty?" She tapped her chin. Others might have questioned how a union between Talon and Karam might yield a dynasty but such things are trivial matters in the face of a necromancer of Sahfri's talent.

"I shall make you my scribe. We must convince Karam to support Talon and through him, garner the support of those loyal to him. Tizan's ploy must be dismissed. In fact, patriotism and calls for a monarchy should be amplified. But not with him at the head."

[Lyra]

"A union..." Lyra said considering. House Veyl were among the richest of the Great Houses, if she recalled correctly. Their name was tied to many local businesses, and likely would have held sway over her own were it not for the fortuitous encounter with Talon two years previous. In many ways a city might be viewed as a business, as it had both income and expenses that it need attend to season after season. Having a person savvy in such things, and with a storied background this Tizan Veyl might have more underlying support than was at first apparent. The difficulty with nobility was that they often lost sight of the smaller picture. Yet all that said, a city was not in fact a business, and politics on a regional scale could not be compared to the woes of company, no matter how large. It was quite different to order men to die than to order them to be removed from their position.

On the other hand, House Senue was an open opponent to House Novalys for many years now. That Karem would seek an alliance with the little prince seemed evident of other machinations at work, whether they be for the good of the many mattered little. What would such a union look like between these two houses? Another marriage? Children? What did the the people of the city want?

"Traditions are not so easily forgotten by the masses." Brows furrowing in thought Lyra let a small trickle of smoke flow from her finger, twisting it into odd shapes as she spoke, "Though your Great Houses may decide to shift toward a new structure of authority, there is little to suggest that the people of Kalzasi, and the surrounding region, will readily support a King. They have lived in a lie of balanced powers for many years, and should a sudden shift occur it is likely other parties will take advantage of the cracks that form."

With a wave of her hand the smoke formed itself into a symbol, ever shifting, and its very essence thrumming with the power of hope. A small fragment, the illusion of the soul of Talon made of ethereal wisps of her essence. As she stared at the sigil an idea began to form.

"Wealth holds greater sway than loyalty to the common citizen. The Veyl child will become a thorn in your side should his ambitions remain after defeat. Would it not be better to simply remove him entirely?" She looked at Sahfri then, tilting her head as a bit of her true form began to show through the veil, "I can, with a small opportunity, create an infatuation in the Senue heir for your son. He would be the perfect, submissive husband... but that leaves the issue of the people."

Lyra stared at Sahfri, a mixture of emotions passing before she looked away to study her nails once more, "Your enemy is not those who might take the throne of Kalzasi, it is the citizens themselves. I know you are not foolish enough to have overlooked this, but so long as the people's hearts are divided there will be no decisive victory. We must give the people someone they can trust, someone they support absolutely. Perhaps it would be better to support Karem, and then bend him to our will when your son returns."

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

“I have my suspicions about House Veyl. Nothing I have been able to confirm as of yet but something that may unfold.” She stepped over to her desk and picked up a silver comb with barbed ends. She ran her thumb over the flat edge of the comb, carefully avoiding the barbed teeth of it.

“The Black Wedding.” She turned, still holding the comb and approached Lyra. Her eyes were studying the manifestation of the sorceress smoke. “It remains a point of pain and grief for our people. I do not think it was apparent, even to me, how much my son was beloved. In hindsight, it is clearer. Combined with the martyrdom of his father…many are still hungry for either justice or revenge. Even with that damnable city in ruins.”

She paced around the facsimile of Talon’s soul, unaware that was what she was looking at unless such knowledge was given to her through the shared mind-link with Lyra. She was enraptured by it for a moment, her expression softening as even a phantom of this projection of a divine soul evoked the feelings associated with its pure concepts. Sahfri shifted her thoughts and attention back to the subject at hand.

“My son’s wedding was one of the most heavily guarded and warded events in Kalzasi’s recent history. The breach of its defenses was not something Zaichaer, even with its formidable anti-magic methods, could have achieved on their own. As of yet however, I have been unable to ascertain exactly who had a hand. I know there was one. The attack was too coordinated. Too precise. Too…informed. House Senue, for all of its bluster, hates Zaichaer even more than they despise the fact that House Novalys is in power. Karam’s father may have been many things but I do not see him having resorted to consorting with our enemy. Internal enemies of our family, perhaps, but Zaichaeri? Unlikely.” She continued to walk as she voiced her thoughts.

“House Zatrian has never aspired to the throne. They still do not. Nor have my spies uncovered anything alert me to such motivations. The same can be said for House Ahtivin. Out of any of the families, they perhaps have the strongest motivation to betray Kalzasi. Yet, Lady Ahtivin remains too tied to her role as a priestess to perform such a thing. Others in her House, perhaps. But not her. We already know the position of my father. House Dahshida, while not thrilled with my late husband’s stance of diplomacy against Zaichaer, is too traditional to seek their assistance.” She held up the comb and examined it more closely. It was the very comb that was used by Brenner Dornkirk to inject Talon with poison and thus weaken his powers allowing him to be captured.

“That leaves House Veyl.” Sahfri tapped her chin. “With the war concluded for the time being and an armistice in place, many are left dissatisfied. The uncovering of conspirators may prove enough of a public sway to convince the populace that a change is needed in the structure of not only Kalzasi’s society but Karnor at large.”

She listened to Lyra suggestion, her expression thoughtful.

“I do not think such a suggestion is necessary for Karam. At my son’s very engagement party and before that, word has reached me that he made an attempt to get close to him. Perhaps it is time to make a formal arrangement.” She pondered the details of such a proposition for a moment. Such marriages were not uncommon among noble and powerful families.

“When my son returns, he will likely be lost. In need to guidance. I…can only imagine what the Imperium has done to him if my reports are to be believed.” At this, Sahfri looked genuinely bereaved. The gloom of her expression did not last as she steeled herself and her emotions.

“There is something to be said for the symbolism of having a God-King. Even if such a role is, by arrangement, ceremonial in nature. A power sharing agreement, perhaps? Give my son the time to focus on healing spiritually and through that healing, create the structure of their roles on a shared throne. A King of matters Divine and a King of matters here on the earth.”

[Lyra]

It seemed House Veyl were the prime suspect in the queens eyes, and Lyra herself could not fault the logic she used. Her eyes returned to the floating symbol of hope, and through their temporary link she knew that Sahfri recognized its significance, and from whom it came. The symbol spun, and as it did it shifted and changed as it became three dimensional, altering, and then shrinking until it fit in the palm of Lyra's hand.

"Your son is a force to be reckoned with." Golden eyes shifted to look at the comb in the other woman's hand, and she remembered that night. A thrill came from the memory of the Dark One, but she also remembered the chaos, beautiful and terrible as the gas was released and the prince bravely threw himself at the danger as he always did. She had chided him until her voices was ragged and her patience at its end, yet if nothing else Talon was a man who was true to his nature and his calling. That was ultimately what drew her to him, as all shadows secretly long to bask in the light, if only a little.

Her gaze moved to follow Sahfri once more, and with her hands she cupped the small symbol between her palms, "If you do not wish to subdue Karem, then an alliance seems inevitable." She looked down at the symbol of hope in her hands and smiled, "Stand him up as a voice of calm reason, have him build trust in the people and in his inevitable return. Then reveal the subterfuge of Veyl and let their downfall be the foundation for the new Kalzasi your son will build."

Hope could be used as tool for both creation and destruction. Hope was the foundation of revolution, the fire that kept wars burning. It seemed fitting that the symbol of hope be seated on a throne in the sky above the ashes of the old regime it had inspired to collapse. She lowly curled her fingers, grasping the symbol tighter and tighter until it broke apart in her clenched fist.

Lyra's face darkened as she looked up at Sahfri, a slight edge to her words, "Be warned, Sahfri of House Briathos. Do not underestimate the consequences of placing a God on a mortal throne. It was aspirations such as this that lead to the unspeakable sins of the ancients, and the inevitable fall of the once Boundless Empire."

She knew that the queen recognized the dangers of an immortal king ruling the mortal realms. No matter how benevolent, a mortal could not understand the toll that time took upon undying. Even gods were not free from the burden of their divine nature, and some grew callous with the centuries.

The edge left her voice as she asked, almost absently, "Tell me, what would Kalzasi do if a child of the God King came to their land and demanded his birthright?"

[Paragon]

P A R A G O N

“Subdue? No. Manipulate? Most certainly. Karam is a man who inspires confidence and, over this past year, has garnered much support. He has the approval of the nobles and the admiration of the commoners. That alone makes him valuable. Useful.” Sahfri let her hands come to rest at the small of her back. Her eyes followed the symbol that drifted into Lyra’s hands. There was a soft longing in her gaze but she let it go.

“Tizan Veyl, I think, has lingered too long in the shadow of the throne. Wielding power by proxy can be an intoxicating thing, a thing he has become drunk on.” A cold fury crossed her features before it settled. Sahfri regarded Lyra for a moment as she gave her warning about her family and Household.

“House Briathos knows the toll of time better than most.” Sahfri’s thoughts became slightly muffled, something hidden and buried deep beneath the walls of her mental defenses. The ripple in her symphony was quieted in short order, becoming faded and difficult to discern from the normal pattern of her already elusive melody.

“Family means more to Talon than I think most people realize.” Sahfri spoke plainly. It was not a critique. Her words felt like an admission.

“If he had a child…” The Iron Queen grew still as several thoughts fluttered across her mind. The feelings were plain for Lyra to both see and feel. It was a mix of love, wistfulness, followed by absolute and unfiltered dread.

“Let us hope that his kinder nature prevails in that instance, O’ Lady of Whispers. Talon would give that child the world. He would toil until it was a garden in which they could bloom eternally. Woe unto any who might bring such a child harm…for I know my son. For such an act, Talon would burn this world until its surface was but glass.” Silence lingered for a moment before Sahfri shook off the spectre of the future and the possibilities it might bring.

“So to answer you, Kalzasi, I imagine, would rejoice. Those smart enough to know what such an arrival truly means? They would tremble.” Sahfri lost herself in thought for a moment before returning to the here and now.

“A request.” Sahfri snapped her fingers. Upon one of the nearby shelves, a box began drifting over to her. At first glance, it appeared as though it was floating toward her by unseen powers. In Lyra’s gaze however, a shadowy creature laced in the powers of necromancy, death, and shadow could be seen lingering between the physical world and the world just out of reach of most mortals. The creature deposited the box in Sahfri’s outstretched hands with a reverential bow of its head before stepping back to return to the shadows.

“Consider this payment in exchange for my request.” She opened the lid of the box to reveal a delicate looking sphere. With a surface that looked to be made from polished quicksilver, the sphere appeared to be woven to form a web of spun glass. Inside of it swirled a mixture of blue and silver light.

“I would ask that you ply your craft to make the minds of those with power more…amenable to the idea of my son and perhaps another upon the throne. Let me worry about the theatrics of the council chambers.”