T A L O N
80 Glade 123
Winter was growing colder and harsher instead of abating. Talon had his suspicions as to why. That would be a road to cross in due time. The advent of the eclipse combined with the presence of a literal manifestation of winter in an already harsh winter climate certainly made for challenging obstacles. Nevertheless, he was determined to see a way through it. Not just for him, but for all of the Northlands. He had been absent long enough. It was time to get to work.
He had been coordinating with Franky in an effort to ensure that those living in the more common areas of Zaichaer had not been going to starve. It had taken some convincing among the nobles, but he had eventually won some of them over in supporting his efforts. Resentments had not exactly cooled. Not for what had happened. Talon did not exactly blame them. He had not asked them to set aside their anger but rather to embrace their better nature until such a time as those responsible could be better served a form of Justice. Something that would present itself in time. For the moment, he had seen that through both Franky’s efforts, and the divine command of his brother, that the shadowspawn had lessened their assaults on Zaichaer. Indeed, the shadowspawn had, at least for a time, turned on the mist-warped monstrosities and reduced their numbers. At least for a time. Shaeoth had ultimately informed him that the shadow creatures, while spawned from the energies of his realm, were not solely his to command. They would obey him when he was there but they would eventually go their own way.
Regardless, it had helped in giving the laborers and fighters of the Knob some breathing room to begin rebuilding. It was enough to help them fortify their positions and carve out a path for survival. The coming seasons would still prove a challenge but at least not as much of an impossible one. He was working to find a solution to those challenges as well. Not just for Zaichaer but for Kalzasi, Zeraphesh, Antiris and Shemashk as well. He would, in time, be willing to parlay with the rest of the Free Cities but such negotiations would have to be had when those places made it clear they wanted such assistance.
Within the quiet of his workshop, Talon sat scribbling down alchemical notes in his journals. In front of him several alchemical circles had been drawn upon the surface of his workspace. Laboratory equipment had numerous substances within them, some of which would take several days to reach the first stage of their priming before they were ready to undergo some of the experiments he had in mind. He was working on coming up with a distilled form of dragonshard primer in order to revitalize and expunge aetheric radiation from soil, or to at least transform that radiation into something that could be used to address the dilemma that both the climate and disaster presented. He was turning another page in his journal when the sound of armored boots upon tile reached his ears. He could perceive a contingent of no less than a dozen Avialae knights through his purview over the Light. Each of them was dressed in armor in the colors of white and gold with alabaster plating and cloaks that were equally pristine in appearance. Upon their breastplates was the symbol of the Dawnmartyr Knights, a blazing sun that declared to all who looked upon them that they were beholden to the Dawnking.
To him.
At their helm was another figure. With burning red hair and eyes like living fire, his husband cut an impressive figure dressed in the black garments of the Skyforge Raiment. He was a specter of death compared to the white knights that followed him. As they entered his workspace, the knights fanned out, each one coming to stand at the ready while Aoren strode forward. Talon made to rise from his seat but before he could even get half-way up, his husband was kissing his face.
“What is this? I thought we were going to meet at the palace.” Talon blinked in confusion. Aoren cupped his face.
“We were. Thirty minutes ago. You are late.” Talon blinked.
“I am?” He looked for the nearest clock then sighed. He had been so absorbed in his research that he had lost track of time. “I am. Sorry. I was close to a breakthrough.”
Aoren chuckled, folding his arms over his chest.
“I assumed as much.” Aoren motioned to two of the knights. They stepped forward carrying a black cube-shaped trunk. Talon arched an eyebrow. “Your mother insisted.”
He had no idea what was inside but if it had been sent by his mother, he had no doubt that it was another one of her layers of protection. Since his return, she had absolutely refused to yield on the matter of him nearly always having a contingent of armed guards. Hence the knights or, when they were occupied or resting, a detachment of hand-selected bodyguards. This, coupled with the various enchanted items that she insisted he carry with him, he knew that she was dealing with the trauma of losing his father and nearly losing him, in her own way. Talon finished rising to his feet and stepped over to the trunk. As soon as he neared, the knights opened it to reveal a set of armor that looked pristinely made. He calmed the urge to jerk away. It was sometimes hard to don armor following…well…everything that had happened. One of the reasons he had taken to wearing less concealing clothes, if at all, he had realized was because of what the imperial armor had done to him psychologically.
“If we are going to travel to Zaichaer for another mission, she wanted us to at least present this to you.” Aoren came up to stand beside him, resting a hand on his lower back, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner. Aoren did not say anything further. He did not have to. He already knew the thoughts that were in his head. He shared them freely.
“I will wear it.” He could not hide from this trauma forever. Not with the challenges ahead. Not with everything that he would have to do. He was a warrior and warriors wore armor to protect themselves. He would not let the Imperium rob him of that aspect of his identity, not when they had robbed him of so much already.
“Wait for us. Please.” Wordlessly, the party of Avialae knights all departed. He did not need to explain anything to them. Not because he did not want to but because they already knew. The Dawnmartyrs had selected a group of their most well-trained and well-informed knights to serve as what they were calling the Dawnguard, his personal bodyguards within the knighthood. From what they had told him, there was already extreme competition among the knights to be granted a post on the Dawnguard.
Talon began the steps of disrobing and then donning the padded undersuit for the suit of armor that his mother had gifted him. One by one, Aoren helped him step into it. It was nearly weightless. His movements remained completely fluid. His wings were not at all impeded or pinched. Even the boots were perfectly fitted and felt as though he was walking on air. The breastplate had the Star of House Novalys emblazoned upon it. When he was dressed, Aoren conjured an illusion that reflected his appearance. It took a moment before Talon felt the tension in his shoulders lessen.
He had changed so much in the past year. Gone was the silvered pale skin of his Siltori heritage. It was still evident that he was a half-elf given the point of his ears but following his full ascension and his journey in Solunarium, his skin was sun bronzed. His witchmarks were all an aethereal silver-white. His eyes had become a ghostly silver to match the silver-white of his hair. He had kept the Earring of Tongues and had added a simple aetherite earring to go along with it, to replenish his stores of aether, not that he really needed to most days. Seeing himself in the armor he looked…godly.
When his awakening as a demigod had first happened, he had still felt and resembled mostly mortal. Not much had changed and in truth, he had never truly felt much like a god. He had simply felt like Talon, just with increased power and responsibility. Now? Now there was no mistaking him for a mortal. He was closer to the realm of the Divines than he was to the material realm. Even without projecting his nimbus, the Light gathered around him to produce a small bit of illumination in the form of a luminous aura. It was small but noticeable. He was husband to a Red Dragon and bondmate to the Demigod of Winter. No, he was not mortal.
And he had finally fully embraced that fact. Even if it had not fully registered in his mind.
“Ready?” He looked at Aoren. He gave his husband a nod and together the two of them, along with the dozen knights, departed the Skyforge to the skyship that was waiting for them. They flew as an organized unit to the ship. The ship was loaded with the next delivery of food and supplies that was promised to Franky and the residents of the Knob. A skyship had been chosen for a few simple reasons, firstly it allowed them to bypass a need for ground routes. Secondly, it had passenger capacity to escort sick and injured back to Kalzasi to be treated at the hospital if needed. Thirdly, it had far greater storage capacity than a wagon or caravan. As soon as Talon landed on the deck of the ship he began stirring his aether into motion.
Raising a hand, he aligned the lines of the spatial pathways until he was able to direct them to Zaichaer. Once they were aligned, he opened the pathway to the ruined city-state. With the shadow of the eclipse overhead, he was the only one who could safely do this. As soon as the doorway was open, the ship moved. It passed through the gateway and into the Slipspace but Talon had mapped out this direction numerous times now. Before long, they were exiting out the other side and on it, was the city of Zaichaer. What was left of it anyways. Once he closed the gate behind them, he felt a sense of alarm radiate across the crew of the ship.
“Uh…Talon?” He looked at Aoren. “Is that…?”
Talon looked. His eyes went wide.
“An Imperial Dreadnaught.”