Legend of Ransera

The Obelisk
10th of Glade, Year 122 Steel

It was a symbol of all that was wrong with the world, at least for her people.

Kala had come into the world already bonded to her twin. That bond and those that came before it were gifts from the Crystal Lady to give the Avialae protection from this monstrosity that claimed the allegiance and the souls of their Kathar cousins. She had seen firsthand how lost they were when their collars were damaged. Ser Baudric had floundered, attempting to recover from his battle with a demon as well as aligning his experience of Synnekar Avialae and their civilization with what he had been told by his overseers and masters.

She wished she could free them and lead them home, at least to give them comfort and protection while they decided what they wanted to do with their lives and their bodies.

"Masked Queen," she whispered, "when I find you, please, I want to help them."

Kala sat alone in the Imperial Plaza, on a bench with a clear view of the Obelisk. She didn't approach, though she sorely wished to. Even from here, she could sense the complex runic spells scrivened into its surface. She wondered what Torin Kilvin would see if he could approach it. There might have been runeforged elements involved in its construction and he had an intuitive understanding of magic that she appreciated.

More than she wanted to know how it worked, however, she wanted to know how to break it into infinitesimal pieces and excise the knowledge of how it was created from any mind that still held it.

Her face was impassive, though; merely thoughtful. No passersby would think she looked at the thing except with quiet awe. She could not afford to be seen as deviant from the will of the Imperium.

Kala shivered involuntarily, though her face remained impassive. She had been trained to politics from a young age and could maintain her social mask even now. The voice hadn't been Kaus', nor the presence, nor the touch of a hand. It hadn't been Aquilios either.

No.

A flicker of gold caught in her peripheral vision, and her head turned to watch a golden feather catch a ray of sunlight just so as it danced its stately way down to rest beside her on the bench. Baudric had similar plumage, but it wasn't his either. After a moment, her hand loosed from the other on her lap and reached out for it. She took it up and tucked it into her sleeve.

"I am here," she murmured, though nothing registered to her senses, mundane or magical. After a time, she rose, thinking perhaps she ought to go before arousing any sort of suspicion here in the Imperial Plaza. She could always come back on the morrow.

Kala didn't realize someone was specifically approaching her until she was standing. The mask wasn't immediately offputting; it reminded her both of the Crystal Lady and the tragic and comic masks often associated with the performing arts. It made her smile a little, and consider whether she would have time to find a rehearsal room to dance in while she was here, or at least take in a show. She wasn't of House Zatrian, but she had been raised to appreciate the arts.

"There was no interruption," she assured them. The person seemed to be making a point of not claiming a gender, so Kala did not assign one. "All roads lead to the Imperial Plaza—isn't that the saying? I know how to get to my hotel from here, but I appreciate the kindness."

While in Kalzasi, Kala's dress was an integration of the tribal customs of her people and the couture of the city. Here, she was dressed more soberly, her clothes well made, but not seeking to draw the eye. Then again, she was young and short, and nobody knew her here so she wouldn't be surprised if someone asked her where her mum was. But this person hadn't been so condescending, at least.

"My name is Kala. I'm visiting on business, but I thought I would take in some of the sights while here."

"If you are in earnest, then I would fain turn down such an offer," she declared. "I haven't anything pressing for the rest of the day, though I shan't take up more of your time than you would like." She smiled. "And I suppose it would be only fair to answer your questions in return, although until I arrived here, I couldn't say I was very well traveled." But here she was, halfway across Ailizane in the Imperial capital. Would wonders never cease?

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dryka."

Kala made no move to leave, unsure where the helpful person would lead her. They didn't seem like the tour guide type, but then Kala didn't know what the tour guide type would actually look like or sound like, and anyway, many things were upside down in the Gelerian Imperium. Not long before the assassination of the Shokaze, she had been admitting to Stefan Dornkirk that she thought it unfair that only Avialae were allowed in the seats of highest power in Kalzasi, but here, they were slaves, indoctrinated to believe they were fit for nothing else. The realization that this was untrue had shaken Ser Baudric to his core.

She wondered if she would find him here, or if they would make him disappear for the sin of being injured beyond their reach and requiring medical attention from his Synnekar cousins. Alas, she wished he were here.

"Ahh, an artist!" she said with real appreciation. But she didn't go too far in that direction as Dryka began to show her around. They were a strange contradiction: wearing a mask that didn't hide the flush of color. Perhaps later she would feel as though asking about the mask weren't impolite, but not quite yet.

"There is a place like the Imperial Academy back home," she said, and it occurred to her that she thought of Kalzasi as home. It wasn't as dear to her as Starfall, perhaps, but other than the occasional visit home, she and her twin had spent the majority of the past year and a half in Kalzasi. That was strange to imagine, though she had always known she would go there at least for a while. Here she didn't even have her ever-present twin, though she could feel their bond even from this far away. She was lonely without him, but she wouldn't let it show.

"I've taken some classes, but my work has made it impossible to pursue a more rigorous course of study. But perhaps you can show me more of the artistic scene as you're an actor. I'm a bit of a dancer, though that is another thing I do in my spare time as my work doesn't allow for an artistic career." She smiled, resigned rather than glum. Her work was important, and she could afford to rent rehearsal space.

It was a whimsical thought, perhaps, but she wondered what she might have studied if she was a lowborn woman with no responsibilities except to herself. She turned the question on her guide instead.

"What would you study if you were given a scholarship to the Academy?"