19th of Frost, 119th Year of the Age of Steel
There was a nervousness to the way that Talon’s wings settled as he landed on the outskirts of the city. The silver and white garments that were draped over his form were of silk and cotton. Talon was without any weapons but he reminded himself that didn’t mean he was defenseless. His aether eluded him at the moment however.
“You are nervous.” Aoren’s deep voice came from his immediate right. Talon met his bodyguard’s gaze and quirked a brow. Aoren gave him a look that said he shouldn’t even try to hide it. The Novalys heir sighed.
“Wouldn’t you be?” It was an honest question. Aoren had come from Lorien. He knew more about their ways than Talon ever would. He had grown up with them. He had escaped them and made a new life for himself in Kalzasi. Though the man still chose to serve as a soldier, he did so of his own volition instead of some religious creed. To his credit, Aoren who was usually much less reserved than he was at the moment, remained somewhat stoic.
“I admit that I have no fond memories of Lorien. For Avialae, it is a prison. One from which few escape. For as free as the people who live there tell themselves they are, the entire kingdom is a box in which the Kindred play.” Talon couldn’t imagine what that was like. Or perhaps he could? His ventures into the Warrens had exposed him to powers that were far from benevolent. He has seen the remnants of a civilization that seemed to pride itself on its depravities. While he knew the fables of Lorien were merely that, stories, he still couldn’t help but wonder what it was really like in that place. It was thousands of miles to the east so anything Talon thought he knew about the place was funneled only through the lenses of travelers and books with a very one-sided view on history.
“Why exactly are we meeting them here and not the palace?” Aoren brushed a piece of imaginary dust off one of the bracers of his armor. The Kathar flexed his raven wings as though getting himself ready to take off into flight at a moment’s notice. Perhaps a little naively and born out of a misguided hope for something optimistic, Talon had opted to only bring Aoren for a show of protection, which was saying something in and of itself. The Novalys heir was not unskilled in means of protecting himself but he wanted to project both an air of peaceful diplomacy with the wisdom of implied protection. Too much force and that could have sent the wrong message. Too little and it would have painted him an even bigger fool than he already felt he was.
“Because, as my father put it, Lorien has already graced our halls with enough shadows.” Aoren smiled brightly.
“I am glad he thinks so highly of me.” Talon rolled his eyes. Two Kathar Avialae were present in the lives of the immediate members of House Novalys. Riven, whom Talon had mixed feelings toward at the moment. Then there was Aoren, who was Talon’s bodyguard and oldest friend next to Riven. Were it up to his father, neither of them would have been involved in his life. Savien was bitterly prejudiced against anything to do with Lorien. Talon had to wonder if his fears were unfounded. The war for freedom had been centuries ago. But he supposed such things were not easily forgotten or mended.
“Look sharp. We’re here.” Talon had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn’t really noticed that they arrived at the camp where the emissary had set themselves up. He felt his heartbeat pick up pace. What would happen? What did Lorien want from Kalzasi after so long apart?
He would get his answers soon enough, he supposed.