A First Time for Everything, ii. [Hilana, Arvælyn]

[Hilana Chenzira]

Amina smoothed her skirt and looked at Hilana with a raised eyebrow at Arvaelyn’s remark, seeing as her granddaughter flushed beneath her dusky skin at that comment. “I take it you bear some responsibility, if not all of the responsibility, for why the Magnatus’ arm is as it is?” The elder looked disapproving. “What in the name of the Founders did you do? Take him climbing to the wyvern’s nests to try to get your flowers, or jump off of camels while racing, or wrestle the crocodiles?” The cousin who had interrupted them was staring at Hilana with enormous eyes. There was something slightly accusatory in that look and in her Symphony, because now that the Dragon Prince of the Umbrium had made that comment, it was clear that it was all too believable that the Vastiana had done something.

Apparently, some things never changed.

“Something like that,” Hilana admitted, leaning in with eyes wide. “I decided to catch a water bison to gift to the Crownwyrm, and we had to wrestle purussaurs, and their teeth are this big,” she outstretched her arms, while her cousin blinked, then scoffed as Hilana laughed at her expression. The young woman took some thin wire from her shawl wrap and began to carefully measure and twist the wire to cover his fingertips of each hand. Each completed one went into a woven reed box to protect the shapes, and she kowtowed again.

“They’ll be ready tomorrow. If you do not stay, then Hilana can bring them back to Solunarium Proper,” she told them, bowing again, heading back into the throngs of family members that were also peeking. Apparently, something was being made for Finn, though Founders only knew what. Hilana grinned after her cousin’s departure, and took a sip of the Umbrian red.

“She is done,” Amina assured Finn. “We are truly honoured that you both and Their Hallowed Highness elected to attend our Festival. Hilana says it is not the first time that you both have sought to aid our people, those of us beyond the walls, and that great monsters twisted by the Dread Mists were fought and felled by your party. Is that why you have an interest in our maps of the Sands? How are you both finding Solunarium after being raised abroad? Our home is not an easy one to acclimate to,” she smiled at them.

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn rolled his eyes at Hilana’s revisionist history and returned his attentions to the elder.

“We were under orders from the Vigilia Argenti, yes…” He conceded, not wishing to take more credit than was due for his role in aiding the tribes. It was better for them to believe that the Sentinels had served their interests before Zalkyriax forced the split.

“My interests are varied.” Arvælyn demurred, lifting his cup to sip as he contemplated his company and surroundings. Feeling a bit awkward, he would smooth the moment over with a delicate application of Mesmer infusing the Symphonies of the unfamiliar Vastians. Satisfaction, ease and a subtle amplification of awe served the will of the Princeps Draconum. Let them take his scant words for regal austerity rather than the uncertainty of a socially awkward youth.

“I think I took to it more naturally than Finn. This is, perhaps, by design…” He trailed off. He’d taken to fantasising that his bard had somehow been part and parcel to the machinations of his parents or, better yet, the Sacred Founders. The actor in him was passing fond of fatalistic presentiments and fancied a universe in which there was something grandiose binding him to his amatus… something beyond the ferocity of his will that was potent enough to be irrevocable. Would that His Peerless Majesty Eikæn himself had been architect to their romance. It was unlikely, to be sure, but it was pleasant to imagine such a force keeping them together despite the obstacles that may come.

“Complicated things are simpler here and simple things more complicated. But maybe that is just due to the position in which I find myself. I doubt it is thus for everyone.”

[Finn]

When the woman was finished, he nodded to her, offering quiet thanks before she departed. He began to carefully fold the sling; it was nice not to wear it for a while, and the process gave his recuperating hand some fine motor work to do. This was in accordance with the demands of the surgeons and healers. Otherwise, he listened.

The conversation was nice, but he didn't mind fading into the background so he could observe the desert folk at their play. But when Arvaelyn mentioned him, he smiled up at his prince.

"Whither you go, I go, my prince," he reminded him. After a moment, he added for the wider audience, "I am slowly becoming accustomed to unending heat. Hilana helped me learn to survive the desert. I was born as common as clay, but His Exalted Highness has brought me up with him, and Deus Avaerys says that I have a larger part to play in the world than that of a minstrel in Karnor."

He spread his hands; how could he argue with princes and gods? At least now his humility was moderated; no longer was he entirely self-effacing.

"The Dragon King sits the Umbrian throne and the Divine Twins walk among us; these are interesting times to live."

Finn was quite aware that interesting times were part of an age old curse, but he had hope. The platinum dragons were strange to him, but they sought a lasting peace. The Atraxian gods were on speaking terms with their ancient enemy. perhaps there was hope for all of them.

Of course, they would have to keep Hilana away from any Orkhan, or there would be no peace to be had.

[Hilana Chenzira]

Amina sipped the strong red wine and watched and listened. She had lived a while, and she had seen many come and go. But this was very much something new to her and to all of them, and she was not opposed to it. If there had ever been changes in the Crown, those changes had never rippled beyond the walls of the cities... until now. That the Zalkyrian Dynasty and the Umbrian Crown intended to do more and exert more influence over the Sands in order to help those who lived in the villages and those who traveled the sands as they had for thousands of years. It was encouraging. Even if there were political reasons behind it, and it wasn’t something altruistic; she also knew it was foolish to think it might have been. You didn’t get to the age of being a great-grandparent out here by being stupid and not paying attention. None of them seemed to pick up on Arvaelyn’s pause with his subtle use of Mesmer, either.

As Finn said, it made for interesting times. “The Founders return, and so too do the honoured Dynasty... these are very interesting times indeed. It stands to reason that you are more comfortable out here, but I am glad of it. Atraxia knows its own,” her gaze included Finn at that. That was a familiar statement; Hilana said it often. “Heavy is the head that holds the crown.” The elder Vastiana seemed pensive, as if she was not sure that that statement might be claiming a familiarity she shouldn’t be. These were auspicious times that they were living in now. These two Royal guests brought with them an undeniable Divine presence as Their marked, and no one could question what they had seen during the opening ceremony of the Festival. None would dare make that attempt to play at such things, not here. Not without risking severe consequences.

But this was no play. This was very much real. One had to wonder what the return of the Founders portended for the Solar Sovereign who had reigned in Their stead for the last century. It would be the source of a great deal of speculation going forward, that much was certain.

“If His Divine Radiance says it is so, then it is,” Amina nodded. It was that simple. The Founders decreed it, and so it was. If Finn was to have a larger role than what he had thought... then so be it. It was up to him to live up to it, but if Deus Avaerys said he was meant for more, then it was the way it was meant to be. “Life has a funny way of happening when we are making other plans,” she was reflective, and looked over at Hilana, who was keeping her mouth shut for the time being and just enjoying her family’s presence and the fact that this was going so well. If she kept her mouth shut, then odds were good it could continue, if only for a bit longer. She didn’t want to say something that might provoke the Draconic Crown Prince, and the young woman was markedly good at doing that.

“Did you not make him a coldstone?” Amina asked Hilana, then, who shook her head at that. “Well, I guess there is something to be said for the old methods of learning the Sands.” She handed Hilana her cup with her wine and focused on her own Elemental Rune, drawing her aether through it to create a quartet of many-faceted empty quartz lodestones, each of them the size and shape of a kumquat. One by one, they went from clear to a pale azure blue as she filled them with the para-element of ice. “But if you are not with another Elementalist and you find yourself in need...” While she was no Kineticist, she floated the lodestones over to him using the air rather than have him strain his arm, or risk insulting the Prince by expecting his Amatus to deign to lower himself enough to reach for something given to him rather than passing them herself. She took her cup back from Hilana. “Don’t let her slack off if you need them refilled,” her tone was slightly playful, but quite serious all at the same time.

“I never slack off,” Hilana protested. “There’s too much to do to waste time being lazy. Besides that, Hayima’el and I are training for the Derby.”

“Your father will lock you in a cellar for that if you do, and you will never see the light of day again. How he hasn’t done it yet, I do not know, but I thank the Founders each day for it.” she returned her attention to Arvaelyn and Finn. “Will you attend the Derby, Your Exalted Highness? What clans that are missing from the Festival will likely be in Tertium next season, near the middle of it.”

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn's attention dragged Finn-ward as he moved his injured arm, poised to ease any of the sharp pains that could intrude. They had certain established boundaries when it came to the practise of their Crafts as it pertained to one another, but the dulling of physical pain (or more specifically increasing the mind's ability to brook it) was not off-limits. It hadn't been something that needed addressing prior to the misadventure abroad, and since then it had been very much warranted.

Satisfied that Finn was comfortable, his attention shifted back to a more general sweep of the room as lofty issues were raised. He was amused to find Hilana's grandmother shared her predilection for idioms. He supposed she must have come by the habit honestly, as he tipped his cup to finish the offered drink.

"The derby? I suppose I shall have to see whether my diary allows, but I imagine the odds are favourable, so long as war or another bloody magical cataclysm doesn't sweep the realm." He said, glancing absently in the direction of the Sceptre of Aværys.

"Næ, my good woman. One drink will do me. I fear our visit is brief and we must needs spend the rest of it in the public eye fostering the perception of personal connection. I am told it will make people more likely to swear and sustain fealty if they see me in the flesh and feel they've connected with me somehow..." Already a bit more candid an admission that one might have expected of him, but at least he didn't go so far as to explain how the Mesmer conditioning they'd all experienced was more potent when the leaders they were meant to obey had physical faces. Even for the most adept Mesmers it was difficult to project complicated loyalties toward abstract figureheads known to them in stories and depicted on tapestries, and the most adept Mesmers were not those whose enchanted evangelism brought them into the deep deserts dwelt by these folk.

"But I thank you for your hospitality. I hope we shall meet again under less formalised circumstances." He rose in one smooth motion and Finn would feel the tug of Arry's Kinetics nudging his side, offering to help him up subtly so it wouldn't look as though he was enfeebled.

[Finn]

Both hands came up to accept the lodestones. He hadn't his Sentinel tools, but even to the naked eye, their purpose was obvious. Chill to the touch, he marveled at how easily people altered the world around them with their magic even though he could charm the birds out of the sky and step from one continent to the next without undue strain. He bedded an elf who had grown a dragon's horns and wings nightly, and still his soul found wonder in small things.

"I thank you," he said sincerely. Finn didn't bother defending Hilana from family; if they thought she slacked, they didn't know her. Also, he wasn't entirely certain it was polite to interject in a disagreement between desert kin.

Whether he would be at the Derby depended entirely upon Arvaelyn, unless the Sentinels required him there.

At Arvaelyn's word, Finn carefully stowed the gifts upon his person. Whither you go, I go, my prince, he had said. Accepting a touch of kinetic aid, it was all too easy to rise with grace befitting the amatus of the crown prince and the Empyreal Lord of Avaerys.

"I, too, thank you for your hospitality," he said, "and for your gifts." He had the sneaking suspicion he would find another gift in their quarters at some point, or Hilana would give it to him when his hands' measurements were put to good use.

The bard took his prince's arm for whatever sort of procession he had in mind. Their departure could hardly be as awe-inspiring as their arrival, though he supposed between the dragon, the mesmerism, and Avaerys' grace, they could make a good show of it.

[Hilana Chenzira]

When the wine had been finished, a refill offered, and subsequently declined, Amina nodded in understanding. The elder Vastian inclined her head respectfully to them as they got up, and with her granddaughter's hand rose and bowed properly to Arvaelyn and to Finn. "Thank you, Your Exalted Highness, Magnatus, for visiting. It is our honour to have you, and we are grateful for your time and interest. I hope that you enjoy the rest of the festival," she smiled up at them. "May the Founders stand between you and harm in all of the empty places that you must walk."

Hilana squeezed her hand, reassuring her that she would be back, and with the others already moving, she hurried to continue their tour. More clans were introduced, with information about numbers, routes, and territory. Introductions were made with elders, all of whom bowed low, some of them even kowtowing on the sands. Many of the children were wide-eyed with shock and awe, and needed to be nudged by those older than they were to bow properly to their royal guests. More than one curious little Vastii desperately wanted to touch Arvaelyn's wings, although they were caught or discouraged by their minders before they even got close. Hilana's curiosity about the world at large around her was recognizable in some of them.

They eventually made their way back to the dais, where music was playing on the stage. It was perhaps a bit quieter than it normally might have been, but Finn would recognize a number of the instruments - Hilana had shown them to him or provided them. Drums, flutes, harps, an enormous xylophone, and some string instruments were set up, and their players had taken their spots to play. Considering Arvaelyn's announced plan of taking fealty pledges on the dais, they were apparently keeping to the instrumentals, and not with enough force to interrupt such an important matter. All the same, a number were milling around and waiting, amongst them Hilana's grandmother and others older than she. But the Vastiana would see them to their seats and the Sentinels waiting therein, bow low, and if she was dismissed, get out of the way.

When Arvaelyn was ready, the Elders that had made the decision to commit their clans to the House of Sol'Zalkyrion and the Umbrian Crown came forward, one by one, announcing their tribe's fealty to the Crown. Some brought with them other gifts and tributes - a precious stone, a piece of jewelry, an offering of herbs or silk. There were even a couple of goats and a fine large ram. One older man produced a blade, however, in its sheath, and it was laid at Finn's feet. "For the Empyreal Lord," he murmured in rather thick accent. "The Spirit told me you sought out soul cairns... and I offer this one to you." The blade's handle was black, though capped with gold, and possessed a carved handle guard that was similar to a dragon. There was golden filigree inlaid against the black blade, long and light, but well-balanced all the same. "You said you would look after them... may my late grandson serve you well."

[Arvælyn]

As Arvælyn assumed his throne in an official capacity, he would exploit his Masquerade in subtle ways to give himself an immaculate, unblemished appearance. He would appear in clearer focus, perhaps larger than life, to onlookers— even those who observed from afar. Once more he wore a mask of Re’hyæan stoicism, as oaths were sworn to his family.

With each fealty pledge, his eyes would glow silver. Unseen by most, but observed by Arvælyn, Finn and those who Sembled at even a novice level, each pledge created a tether between subject and liege. Both would feel the force of it and it felt like pleasure. Like the artist’s satisfaction at the completion of a long unfinished sculpture. Like the release of death after savage suffering.

The gifts were accepted with grace, if not unseemly displays of enthusiasm. Most would join the dragons’ horde at the end of the River Sanguis.

When all was said and done, the great platinum dragon stirred from his rest, shaking off the settled sands and regarding the magnati that approached him. He lowered his neck for Finn to ascend to the saddle that looked so small upon the back of the beast. Arvælyn pushed himself aloft of the sands with a burst of Kinetic energy, and caught himself in the air with his wings. Kairyndralok would allow his far smaller nephew fly ahead, lest his greater and more practised wings jostle the novice flier from the skies.

All would ascend toward the Sceptre, before which a massive portal appeared to return to magnati to the capital. They would find themselves in the Umbrium, above the mouth of the Thalamum Draconum, where the draconids landed and all could return to their homes.

[Finn]

Finn was used to framing his draconic amatus, and while his brow gleamed golden, he did not seek to outshine the crown prince. Music tickled his senses whenever there was a lull in the pageantry; he felt the tethers made, the bindings blessed by Domina Varvara. He had only the one thrall himself, but he knew the rush, surely similar, at least, to what Arvaelyn was feeling.

There was a momentary flicker of alarm when an elder approached him directly. Finn hadn't wanted to draw worship from the prince, even though he hungered now for similar adulation. Gold flashed in blue eyes as he recognized what was happening. Though he was far from a level of mastery where he could harness the power of a soul cairn, this certainly gave him a solid goal.

With all due respect to the fact that a soul as well as a weapon was being entrusted to him, he knelt to pick up the sheathed sword. He carefully inspected the sheath and the hilt before drawing the weapon forth, testing it for balance and heft. With a nod, he resheathed it and kept it in his hands. He nodded his acknowledgement, just short of bowing back.

"I accept your gift and thank you for your honors," he said in Vastian. "I shall take good care of your grandson's steel and his soul." He returned to his place at Arvaelyn's side and witnessed his vassalage of the nomad tribes.

When the time came, he raised a hand in parting to the people, and raised his veil, quenched his emblem, becoming once again merely a Sentinel. He could have vaulted directly into the harness, but Kairyndralok deigned to offer him help up, and so he took it as quickly and as gracefully as he could manage. His work here was done, and he would take a closer look at his new blade when he was home, though he was equally curious about what sort of gift might eventually come after the measurements taken of his hands.

But he wasn't greedy, though Avaerys had awoken his hunger.

[Talisman]

Review

Name: Arvaelyn
XP: 10 XP, may be used for Magic
Injuries/Ailments: None
Loot: Massive Ivory-Platinum Elephant Tusk, Enchanted with Master-Level Masquerade that produces a winged Simulacrum of Zalkyriax when aether is applied.

Name: Finn
XP: 10 XP, may be used for Magic
Injuries/Ailments: None
Loot: Soul Cairn one-handed sword, set of four gold butterfly finger picks.

Name: Hilana
XP: 10 XP, may be used for Magic
Injuries/Ailments: None
Loot: Tiniest, slightest sliver improvement of relations with Arvaelyn and House Phaedryn.


Notes: And so it concludes - Arvaelyn and Finn made quite the impression on the Nomads, gaining fealty of most of the Atraxian Desert's clans. That was a great read, the way Avaerys and Varvara made their presence known for their sacrifices, and a fun exploration of some of the Nomadic traditions.