T A L O N
51 Glade 123
The Palatium Umbrarum possessed a grandeur that reminded him of the halls of the Palace of Spires. The projection of power that was etched into every surface of the structure was something he had come to expect in Solunarium. They were a state that worked to awe and humble the masses in order to maintain the tight grip on power that its upper echelons enjoyed. The Synnekar ruled in Kalzasi born from a sense that it was their right because they worked to defend the masses from the horrors of the Warrens. This had created a warrior-caste society wherein the strongest and most capable were seen as those deserving of the most privileges. There were pitfalls of living in such a society. It often alienated those who were infirm and simply lacking in either the desire or ability to perform the same feats that the Avialae could. It was one of the reasons he was deeply glad for Houses such as Ahtivin and Zatrian that advocated sharply for pursuits other than the physical.
Solunarium was a realm where power, and the projection of that power, was what kept the masses in line. The legitimacy of its ruling class was in relation to the purity of how closely it was linked to the Divine Founders. Coupled with the state emphasis on the glorification of magical displays versus Kalzasi’s situation, where its mages were forced to apply their magic in sharply defensive and pragmatic ways because of the New Athiest aggressors and the Order of Reconciliation, it created a unique divide that he was interested in studying at some point.
“Everyone is staring.” Mathias whispered. The young man was a far cry from the thin waifish urchin that he had encountered in Gel’Grandal. He had filled out, no longer being rail thin due to being underfed. While he was still far leaner compared to either himself or Aoren, his months of training with them and the monks of the Temple of Fallen Skies had turned him into a competent Dawnmartyr Aspirant. The confidence gained from such training was evident in his steadier stance. He wore the armor of a Dawnmartyr Pathfinder, in decorative leathers accented with protective metal plating.
“You get used to it.” Aoren stood opposite of Mathias, a vision of black, red and gold. His fiery red hair was swept back. His black raven wings were now tipped with scarlet, a nod to the red hue of some of his scales when in his true dragon form. The witchfires that burned in his eyes as a result of his arcane kinship to Fire had a much deeper heat to them, the second hint as to his true nature. He was dressed in the ceremonial garb of a Kalzasern Royal Guard with a few embellishments to accentuate the fact that he was Talon’s consort.
Talon himself was wearing the silver and white that he had taken to wearing. There were a few added sashes that were a very light shade of gold to match the golden pigmentation that had begun to shine within some of the feathers of his wings. Matched with the warm light that was currently shining softly from the Divine Nimbus he had allowed to gently manifest, he knew exactly why the courtiers and visitors to the audience chamber were staring and whispering. As their group approached the attendants, he saw the briefest widening of eyes before the mask of professionalism fell into place.
“State your business.” Mathias responded for him.
“His Divine Highness comes at the request to the Umbrian Crown as Emissary of the Dragon King. He is Arcas Lightbringer, the Prince of Dragons.” He could almost feel Mathias satisfaction with himself. Across their shared Bond, he could feel Aoren’s amusement.
Following their introduction to the Court, Talon inclined his head at the request of whether or not he would like to speak with Arvaelyn Princeps sooner rather than later. With that done, he and his two companions simply walked forward that they might be seen by the dragonborn royal. When they stood before Arvaelyn, Mathias bowed. Aoren bowed in turn. Talon inclined his head in a slight nod.
“Your Exalted Highness.”
The Palatium Umbrarum possessed a grandeur that reminded him of the halls of the Palace of Spires. The projection of power that was etched into every surface of the structure was something he had come to expect in Solunarium. They were a state that worked to awe and humble the masses in order to maintain the tight grip on power that its upper echelons enjoyed. The Synnekar ruled in Kalzasi born from a sense that it was their right because they worked to defend the masses from the horrors of the Warrens. This had created a warrior-caste society wherein the strongest and most capable were seen as those deserving of the most privileges. There were pitfalls of living in such a society. It often alienated those who were infirm and simply lacking in either the desire or ability to perform the same feats that the Avialae could. It was one of the reasons he was deeply glad for Houses such as Ahtivin and Zatrian that advocated sharply for pursuits other than the physical.
Solunarium was a realm where power, and the projection of that power, was what kept the masses in line. The legitimacy of its ruling class was in relation to the purity of how closely it was linked to the Divine Founders. Coupled with the state emphasis on the glorification of magical displays versus Kalzasi’s situation, where its mages were forced to apply their magic in sharply defensive and pragmatic ways because of the New Athiest aggressors and the Order of Reconciliation, it created a unique divide that he was interested in studying at some point.
“Everyone is staring.” Mathias whispered. The young man was a far cry from the thin waifish urchin that he had encountered in Gel’Grandal. He had filled out, no longer being rail thin due to being underfed. While he was still far leaner compared to either himself or Aoren, his months of training with them and the monks of the Temple of Fallen Skies had turned him into a competent Dawnmartyr Aspirant. The confidence gained from such training was evident in his steadier stance. He wore the armor of a Dawnmartyr Pathfinder, in decorative leathers accented with protective metal plating.
“You get used to it.” Aoren stood opposite of Mathias, a vision of black, red and gold. His fiery red hair was swept back. His black raven wings were now tipped with scarlet, a nod to the red hue of some of his scales when in his true dragon form. The witchfires that burned in his eyes as a result of his arcane kinship to Fire had a much deeper heat to them, the second hint as to his true nature. He was dressed in the ceremonial garb of a Kalzasern Royal Guard with a few embellishments to accentuate the fact that he was Talon’s consort.
Talon himself was wearing the silver and white that he had taken to wearing. There were a few added sashes that were a very light shade of gold to match the golden pigmentation that had begun to shine within some of the feathers of his wings. Matched with the warm light that was currently shining softly from the Divine Nimbus he had allowed to gently manifest, he knew exactly why the courtiers and visitors to the audience chamber were staring and whispering. As their group approached the attendants, he saw the briefest widening of eyes before the mask of professionalism fell into place.
“State your business.” Mathias responded for him.
“His Divine Highness comes at the request to the Umbrian Crown as Emissary of the Dragon King. He is Arcas Lightbringer, the Prince of Dragons.” He could almost feel Mathias satisfaction with himself. Across their shared Bond, he could feel Aoren’s amusement.
Following their introduction to the Court, Talon inclined his head at the request of whether or not he would like to speak with Arvaelyn Princeps sooner rather than later. With that done, he and his two companions simply walked forward that they might be seen by the dragonborn royal. When they stood before Arvaelyn, Mathias bowed. Aoren bowed in turn. Talon inclined his head in a slight nod.
“Your Exalted Highness.”
