A Friend to Flame [Pharaoh]

In which Hilana returns to the Thalamum Draconum as bid.

The Umbrium is the lower half and secondary seat of the Solunarian Capital and one of the dual-cities that comprises Solunarium Proper. Before the rise of Aværys, mining revealed the site of a ruined, underground city which they dubbed Oblitium “The Forgotten City”, the foundations of which were incorporated into what is now The Umbrium. Warmed by the magma that churns just behind the walls, the Umbrium houses the Palatium Umbrarum (The Shadow Palace) which was constructed directly beneath its sunlit counterpart, the Blazing Palace. This palace serves as the primary seat of government when the sovereign is moonborn, and houses the headquarters of The Silver Sentinels.

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Hilana Chenzira
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Frost 15, Year 123

[Closed - Pharaoh]

After attuning herself to the Element of Fire in the magma bloom patch, Hilana made her way towards the entrance to the Thalamum Draconum. She was hidden by her Mask of Midnight’s Mother to at least allow for herself to go around undetected, though without a doubt, the Sentinels that watched the entrance from the Praeventorium likely noticed her. But those that knew her probably also knew that she was going there today. Knowing that the political situations likely required an awful lot of time, Hilana had left a note for Sentinel Phocion via his attendant to leave word when she was heading back down, and he could do with that information what he willed.

His Exalted Majesty had told her to come alone, and so she had. Her snakes were tucked away. Her soror remained behind. While she wore her Mask, her Volumen was in her rucksack in the event that she needed it. She might well look at it later, if only to study the routes and pathways and satisfy her own curiosity and interest. Then again, the Dynasty may well see that as an intrusion on their privacy and look askance at it. Hilana would have to seek permission first, rather than ask for forgiveness later. That was never wise, not with dragons. That went right back to the advice that Princess Cithaera had given them before they had entered the Thalamum Draconum the last time: be not bold, be not familiar, and be not presumptuous. She did need to check herself from time to time, but there was no better time than to remind herself of that than now, before she made her way down.

She didn't have Kinetics to replicate what Phocion had done the last time they had started the descent into the Zalkyrian Dynasty's sanctuary, but she had discussed this at length in terms of theory with Athalia, and they had tested it to make sure Hilana wasn't going to end up roasted like a chicken in the oven down there without her Silver Steward. Attuning to fire allowed for her to utilize Deference, which, upon politely asking the spirits, the heat around her was toned down and brought into a manageable level. She had Prescience to grant her immunity to the element if she needed to, but Deference was certain to be enough. All the same, she had gotten herself pyrolyth dragonshard to help make sure that the heat level would be adequately moderated. The pyrolyth was in her hair, the tail of an etched dragon wrapped around it as it was securely pinned at the top of her braid. Her Mask of Midnight's Mother could also help, but she was not about to use it to suppress the heat unless all else failed.

She wondered if she could use her Ring of Traversion to get herself to where Princes Phocion and Arvaelyn, along with herself had last met Zalkyriax, but on the other hand... this gave her an opportunity to refresh her memory of the place, and with the growing shadows that joined her own, the Vastiana took the smaller pathway, just as they had last time, her long skirts swishing along as she went. She felt the heat more than she had last time, due to the differences between hers and Phocion's craft, but it wasn't unpleasant; the elements kept her from that, and she offered a silent thanks to His Divine Radiance once more for the Rune, and to Her Argent Luminescence for her Mask. Only once she made it to the antechamber did she release the Mask from cloaking her presence, smoothing her skirts on her hips and folding her hands behind her. She had no doubt they could surely pierce the veil of the shadows that gave her safety, and surely knew that she was there, but Hilana wasn't intending to hide herself from the vaunted Dynasty... only mortals who might otherwise wish to pry.

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Pharaoh
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It was quiet in the chamber, but for the sounds of roiling magma and the occasional shifting of stone somewhere behind the cavern walls. Hilana would be left at length with only the songs of stone serenading her. It was hours before a steadier tremor crescendoed and soon Zalkyriax would appear in his full glory, lumbering through the same entry point as last time. His voice bellowed through the chamber as he approached the rivulet of blood that bisected the room.

“You are fortunate that I am patient, human, for it has been over a year since I set you to your task. Much has shifted in that time. New dangers have emerged which might have been off-set and your brief life is further truncated by time….” He halted his gait at the stream’s edge and looked down upon Hilana with glowing, fiery eyes— their vertical slit pupils narrowing in an expression reminiscent of his son’s own scowl.

“I trust progress has been made between whatever else has been diverting you from this endeavour? Spare me whatever excuses you will doubtless wish to espouse and speak on only what is pertinent: How have your efforts advanced and how far are you from achieving the goal I sent you to execute?”

Zalkyriax sat back on his haunches, folding his wings behind his great back as he snorter smoke and ran his forked tongue over teeth long as lances and twice as sharp.
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Hilana Chenzira
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As time went by, Hilana went from standing there and looking around to settling down on the ground in a comfortable, seated position on her knees, and listened to the elements around her. The stones had their stories, and now she was able to listen to them properly. She understood them better now, and that constant song was not unwelcoming. Earth was one of those elements that may not have been as flashy as fire or as dizzying as air or as sudden as water, but there was a certain solidness to it that the others lacked and she appreciated. As Wild as she was, as intractable as she had been and could be, there was a comfort to the very ground beneath her that she felt was often unappreciated. But when she felt those footsteps that shook the very ground that she had settled on, it snapped her from her reverie and drew all of her attention.

When he came into view, the Vastiana kowtowed, and stayed in that position until he addressed her. A large chunk of black opal with threads of glowing red within it sat beside her, carved in the shape of a dragon's egg - the girl had brought tribute yet again, but made no move to present it for the time being lest she be rude and interrupt. She settled back on her knees, hands in her lap, her gaze at the ground before him. She wasn't trying to be disrespectful, but it seemed more appropriate with the chastisement. She swallowed at his words. Well, there was no denying any of that, and to some she might have offered the reasons for the delay, but here...

If Hilana had learned something from her first encounter with the Founders upon which she had received her quest, it was that they were not interested in excuses and they wouldn't tolerate them. They expected results, and to have their questions answered when they were posed without obfuscation. She expected that the paterfamilias of the Zalkyrian Dynasty would be much the same, and she had not been far off of the mark. He was likely right. More dragons here might have offset some of the dangers that had come up since, it would have bolstered the Dynasty's crown and claim with support. Her reasons for the delay may have been good to her, but what use were they to him when they delayed the completion of his task?

When he at last bid her to speak, Hilana raised her gaze up to the massive dragon and sought to channel what she had learned from Prince Phocion. Less was more. Give the details in the briefest possible way. Chances were he already knew what had gone on. "We found the location where Melindranovion was defeated and slain by Israxa, and the Sembler that we took with us ascertained that the next step was to visit Celatium... He was unable to tell me anymore after that, since he was injured while he was Sembling the area. But with your assent, Your Exalted Majesty... I will set out that way, and continue working the trail."

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“Celatium…” That booming voice repeated, as Zalkyriax seemed to ponder the information presented. “This place is not known to me, but the etymology suggests that might be by design.” He mused, seeming to be thinking aloud. A grunt and the arch of a brow might have implied a realisation had come to him.

“A one of twists and turns did surely devise so subtle a machination to skirt under even eyes as sharply hewn as ours…” He nodded,

“Very well. You have made some progress at least. You stand here in the midst of our fiery thermæ without the aid of another’s Craft. You have brought information hitherto unknown to me and, whether or not you know how to find it, you know where you must go next.” He lowered his great neck, and settled into a more comfortable and less imperious stance. His harsh brow softened as well.

“And how shall you find this clandestine Celatium?”
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When Zalkyriax said that Celatium was not known to him, Hilana winced internally. Faex. That had been her next hope for discovering a direction, at least, even if she had to comb Atraxia by wyvernback with her Volumen and her Mask until she had found it. But for now, the girl was quiet, letting the mighty Platinum dragon chew on that information, paying close attention to his expression and his words.

A one of twists and turns... She was certain that he was referring to Phaedryn Princeps, Domina Varvara's favourite. That would make sense, since it was under Phaedryn's behest that Israxa hid herself and the Horn, and now... all of these thousands of years later... they were unravelling the mystery on behalf of the Founders and the Crownwyrm.

Hilana considered the Crownwyrm's words. She'd managed a few things right, so that was good. But she wasn't going to get ahead of herself or let it go to her head. That would have been incredibly dangerous, and beyond stupid. And she knew the next words out of her mouth were not exactly encouraging. "I found the location and name too ambiguous, and I had hoped you might have an idea of the direction in which to start searching, Your Exalted Majesty," the Vastiana admitted. "With a direction or a rough idea, I could scour with my Volumen. I've poured over the maps in the Archive, not just that of Solunarium, but the colonies and what we had that was mapped at the time, going back from that epoch to the most recent ones... but I haven't had luck locating it on a map." Hilana had been thorough when she was researching, and when she was given something to work on, she would keep at it like a dog on a bone. She had her notebook and copied maps with her within her rucksack. "I brought copies of them, if it might be of assistance to you. Otherwise, I can make a request to Her Serene Highness Cithaera Princeps for permission to check the Phaedryn family archives, which was offered previously by His Serene Highness Phocion Princeps."

If there was nothing at all to be found on the maps, then she might have to try to go back to research Phaedryn's own notes... which was surely going to be well over her head, especially if it was tucked away from Phaedryn's descendants and the Dynasty.

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Zalkyriax actually chuckled, a booming purr that shook the chamber and sent motes of dust from the stalactites above.

“It would be an unworthy quest if I could simply give you the answer. We might have sent anyone if this were merely a matter of collection… And though I cannot give you coordinates, I can tell you that I believe you are on the right track by seeking records from the Gens of Phædryn Callidus. While the rest of us mourned the might of our past, he conspired to bolster our remote posterity… and it seems he has preserved our fires and kept them lit all these years.” The great wyrm stood and stretched his wings.

“Leave this place and go forth to the Prætorium of the Vigilia Argenti. Hie direct unto Cithæra Vigilia Magna. I believe you have advanced enough that you are prepared to embark. You require no further consultation from me or mine.

“Find Celatium, gather a party and return not without the artefact. This is my edict.”
And with no further pomp and circumstance, he began to turn and lumber back down the broad corridor from whence he’d come.
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Hilana hadn't meant to be funny when the Crownwyrm chuckled, but the Vastiana would take it. That booming resonance that came from a chuckle was far better than a snarl or a growl of disapproval or irritation. He wasn't wrong, though; if it was that easy, it would have been done by now. But that was part of her task - uncover the details, and put them together, and work the trail that formed from those details.

Her gaze remained attentively on him as he spoke, solemn as she took his words in. So she had her next steps, and when she was ready... "Gratias, Your Exalted Majesty," she thanked him, kowtowing once again as he stood. She had her instructions, and she would see them through. When he was out of sight, she touched the heavy, carved egg, and slid it into the blood river. All tributes went in there, after all: that was what he had told her the last time she had ventured down here with Princes Arvaelyn and Phocion. She didn't know what became of them; she hadn't dared to ask Arvaelyn or anyone else, and she knew that it was absolutely none of her business. Even if she was quite curious.

Some curiosities had to be left unsatisfied, and some questions had to remain unasked. Hilana wasn't keen on upsetting those above her, especially the Dynasty that she held with such reverence. She rose, thanking the stones for their song, and started her way back up. Every time she made this path, it was easier - the paths were familiar, the stones and shapes of the rocks, the chunks of magmatyte that gave off their ethereal glow and plenty of heat. She reactivated the protections of her Mask until she cleared the Thalamum Draconum to hide herself so that others wouldn't see her emerging from the Chamber, walking away a little bit more to give herself some distance before letting herself be perceived once more. Only then did she approach the Praetorium.

The guards were likely familiar with her, considering her visits to see Sentinel Ævril. "Salve. Matsi Chenzira Hilana to see the Vigilia Magna, please. At the behest of His Exalted Majesty." All of that was spoken quietly, but earnestly. She really didn't want to invoke the Crownwyrm's name for this, but if it got her where she needed to be in the Praetorium...

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"You are expected." A veiled guard with height, proportions and graceful motions that seemed to betray the figure of an elf beneath the uniform's concealments. "Enter." As both guards rapped the bases of their halberds on the stone of the steps, the great doors parted as if of their own volition and Hilana was admitted entrance. She would find another veiled figure, shorter of stature but thicker of build than the matching guards without.

"This way." A feminine voice intoned, as the figure pivoted toward the imposing staircase across from where Hilana entered. The sentinel was dutiful and amongst the Vigilia Argenti that seemed to mean silent and stoic. No conversation was volunteered, though questions posed would be answered succinctly provided they did not touch upon topics that were disallowed. By and by, they reached the door to the central offices of the Vigilia Magna. Perhaps Hilana would be aware that Phocion's offices at the Prætorium were located at the end of the corridor to her right, or that Valæra's ended the hallway to her left. But front and centre, the tall double-doors carved with draconic designs and inlaid with silver accents, were indisputably the passageway into the chambers of the most powerful figure in their ancient order. The ebony doors parted and the sentinel attendant bowed to to figure of the Vigila Magna, even as her back was turned from them... her focus outward, regarding the cityscape outside the window, as Phocion so often did. At her side was a figure in the clerical robes of a Varvaran monk.

"I have taken the liberty of inviting Pater Ceværius, under whose watchful eye our family archives are kept..." She gestured to the monk: A tall, pale, raven-haired elf who'd known enough years to have lost the glow of seemingly perennial youth borne by elves for the bulk of their lengthy lives.

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"I am given to understand you are seeking information pertaining to His Serene Highness Prince Phædryn the First?" He inquired in a melodic baritone.
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“Gratias,” she bowed her head to the Sentinels at the door, and when she was admitted, and met by the next Vigila, Hilana greeted her and was happy to follow along. Her being a relentless chatterbox in the Praetorium was something that would doubtlessly be frowned upon, and so the Vastiana elected to keep her mouth shut today. Usually, if she did talk to more than her tutor, it was about comestibles. She didn’t have a basket or trays of sweets to put out like she usually did when she had her lessons with Sentinel Ævril, though she supposed that showed poor preparation on her part… but she also did not have time to grab something, not since she had come straight from the Thalamum Draconum.

“Gratias,” the girl thanked the Vigila who had led her to the Vigilia Magna’s office. She did recognize Sentinel Phocion’s office, having been in there before. Now that she knew where Cithaera Princeps’ was, she could probably figure that Sentinel Valaera’s was at the other end of the hallway on the right, seeing the door, though she had not been in there and knew better than to ever ask. On the other hand, assumptions were an excellent way to make a fool of herself. Usually the most obvious thing was some sort of trick, especially here.

The young woman bowed low, as she usually did on the rare occasions to be in the presence of Royalty. “Gratias for taking the time to see me, Vigilia,” Hilana began. “And it is my honour to meet you, Pater,” she bowed to him as well. Perhaps not as deeply as she had the Vigilia Magna, Princeps Sibylla, but she bowed deferentially all the same. “I am very interested in His Serene Highness, Prince Phaedryn the First. I am hoping he may have left some clue in his records pertaining to ‘Celatium’. Be it a place or some sort of idea. His Exalted Majesty thought that Phaedryn the First devised it, as I cannot find anything on maps in the Sentinel Archives.”

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One could see from where Phocion had learnt his cool demeanour, as Cithæra received Hilana’s expression of gratitude with no apparent response of even having heard its utterance. Her violet eyes darted to the cleric as he spoke, and she took her seat, clasping her hands upon the desk before her.

"Ah… that is not a term known to most, but amongst those of us who devote our lives to the study of Father Phædralis, ‘Celatium’ has long been as mysterious as its name betokens: The Hidden City, indeed…" Ceværius mused.

"The term is noted on no maps, essays, atlases or journal entries. The only place it is referenced at all is actually in a poem His Serene Highness penned during the northern conquest, seemingly as an exercise in his study of the Common tongue of the North. Notably, he was the only child of the Founders who made the effort to speak the language of those they would conquer… at least during the wars." At a stern glance from Cithæra, he would clear his throat and return to the matter at hand.

"I could show you the poem, if you’d like, but I have it committed to memory so you may as well just listen and take dictation for efficiency’s sake." Papyrus and pen rose from Cithæra’s desk and hovered to Hilana’s grasp.

"Come dreadful days we’d fain forestall,
Betides a time when glories fall
Calamities great depths to plumb.

“Fate turns stark steel to brittle glass
Doth this for we e’er come to pass:
Go hie thee to Celatium
."
He paused his slow, measured oration to allow Hilana to complete her scrawling.

"It may be worth noting that, in the original text, His Serene Highness left an unusually large gap between the two stanzas atypical of his trends when writing verse in Vastian or Vallenor. In most cases, he would only leave a gap about the breadth of a written line. I suppose it is possible he needed to make corrections, given the less familiar language which could account for this variance, but I thought it worthy of note."

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