They could address their employers as ‘my Lord’ or ‘my Lady’ if they so chose.
Master Praygood nevertheless, didn’t wish such a level of intimacy with Scypian.
Noerelle curtsied.
“It’s an honour to finally meet you, my King,” she said.
If she was pretending to have never met him, she did such a good job that he suddenly doubted that it was her. She looked very different in her elegant dark blue gown and with her elaborate hair-style.
“Lady Noerelle will stay with us for the foreseeable future,” Sidonia informed him.
“Welcome to our home,” was all Scypian could manage for the moment; he couldn’t fathom what had just happened.
Sidonia decided to be gracious.
“Lady Noerelle is Kronurian. Her father, Maister Emeric Raven-Zinn had sent her over to the Realm a few years ago. Lady Noerelle has spent quite a while at the Winterskys in Lectricka,” the Empress explained.
“I thought that it was time now to explore the beautiful Capital of the Realm, and hoped that some accommodating family would have me for a little while,” Noerelle smiled sweetly at Scypian, which made his heart skip a beat.
“Maister Raven-Zinn had contacted me in a marvel of a letter. He had written to me about Kronuria and the Raven-Zinn family. I feel so privileged that he has asked our family to accommodate Lady Noerelle. I also felt the need to inform him about the unfortunate political circumstances,” Sidonia sighed.
“Please, my Lady, don’t worry yourself about it,” Lynnox said silently to the Empress.
Noerelle jumped up and hurried to her, taking her hands into hers.
“Empress Sidonia, please don’t blame yourself. My family has always tried to keep up with the current situation in the Realm. We’ve always had the utmost respect for your efforts for peace in Pyonia,” she said passionately.
Sidonia smiled at her gratefully and went on.
“Thank you, dear. Anyway, Maister Emeric Raven-Zinn had emphasised that Lady Noerelle is not to stay here as a mere house guest. Kronurian diligence is very commendable; her Ladyship wishes to learn as much as possible of our history, trade and administration.”
“I’m sure we’ll all benefit from this; I cannot wait to learn about Kronuria,” Lynnox said with honest enthusiasm.
“It will be a pleasure to share my modest knowledge, Master Praygood,” Noerelle beamed at Lynnox.
“Gentlemen,” Sidonia raised her voice to make herself heard, “we are being terrible hosts. Lady Noerelle hasn’t had the chance to familiarise herself with her new surroundings yet. Let us give her some time to make herself comfortable. We can converse at dinner,” she decided, ready to retire. Lynnox offered her his arm.
Noerelle made her way to the door.
When she passed Scypian in his chair, she quickly let the tip of her finger run across the back of his neck, sending shivers up his spine.
The Hidden City, Realm’s Heart Island
Nocturnia sat on the floor of her salon with crossed legs.
In front of her sat Jack, one of the Hidden City’s many dogs. He was her favourite. There were thousands of dogs living in the City of the Equimancers, and Nocturnia knew many of them by name. Several of them regarded her house as their actual home; it was very rare that there were no animals lounging on her couches or snoozing in her garden.
The Hidden City was Nocturnia’s home.
It was a part of the Structure that only a select group knew about; the Equimancers of the Realm.
The secret society of men and women for whom one thing mattered above all; Balance.
The group of people who knew how to unlock and use the abilities that were present deep inside of everybody.
They were the ones who believed with all their hearts that Balance was what kept the World going.
They were fervent supporters of Equilibrium and Equality, but they knew human nature; they were aware that there will always be good and evil, darkness and light, that every quality has its counter-part.
They were convinced that the reason they existed, was to make sure one didn’t outweigh the other.
They also knew that the Structure was more than just an architectural marvel; they had experienced on a daily basis that it was the living embodiment of the Creator, which was the Original Source.
For maintaining the Balance, the Structure provided for them and kept them safe; the Hidden City was only accessible to Equimancers.
It was an underground part of the Island, equal in size to its above ground equivalent, but different in every other way.
The Four Gardens of the Hidden City created a ring in the heart of the settlement.
The trees of the Spring Gardens were eternally in bloom.
The Summer Gardens consisted of salty pools of water, surrounded by sandy beaches and palm trees swaying in the warm winds.
Vineyards and a forest with brilliant red and yellow foliage formed the Autumn Gardens, while a thick layer of snow covered the Winter Gardens.
Taking into consideration that sooner or later none of them would be able to leave this part of the Realm, the Equimancers were eternally grateful for the Ring of Seasons.
The Gardens were bordered on both sides by two further rings; the Inner Residential Ring that was adjacent to the Academy buildings, and the Outer Residential Ring behind which lay fields, forests and workshops.
Both Residential Rings consisted of rows of neat little houses. When they were originally built – many centuries ago – they had all looked the same. Because they kept changing inhabitants - who had all made their mark on their dwellings, - the houses couldn’t be more different now.
Nocturnia chose to live in the Inner Residential Ring of the Summer Quarter. She was also considering a house next to the Winter Gardens, but her fondness for swimming overruled her love of snow; she could just walk into the Summer Gardens every morning to take a dip in the pools.
Presently, she didn’t feel like swimming though; the sadness she felt was crushing since she got the invitation. She did the one thing that she knew would help her.
She took Jack’s head into her hands and looked into the dog’s eyes.
She went through the same motions she did when she wanted to read somebody’s mind; except she knew she wouldn’t find any thoughts.
Instead, she received the concentrated waves of pure, unconditional affection and loyalty that made her tears flow instantly.
Jack didn’t like her crying; the worry for Nocturnia mixed into his emotions which made the Sister sob even more.
When she was all cried out, she wiped her eyes, hugged Jack and inwardly rolled her eyes at herself.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine. Here, have a stinky,” she said to the dog, throwing him a bit of dried tripe that exuded a horrible stench.
She sensed a presence at the doorway. While she did her best to pull herself together, she heard a familiar voice.
“I didn’t know what a wuss you were, Sister Nocturnia.”
She buried her head in her hands.
Brother Dax Nettler, the Chief Prosecutor of the Realm, stepped into the house.
“Oh, it’s way too late for that; we both know you think I’m irresistible,” he grinned.
“In a handsomely ugly way, I know,” he smiled at her innocently.
“Greetings, Brother. You must be confusing Jack’s thoughts with mine,” she said trying to compose herself.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he smiled. His expression changed.
“Are you ready?” he asked tenderly.
“No! I’m not, I hate this. It’s so sudden! The Blacclaw and Sunflare Squad murders must have pushed her over the edge,” Nocturnia said desperately.
She went to her desk, took the despised envelope containing the invitation for a Ritual of Elation, and tore it into little pieces.
“Did she ask you to be her Air?” she asked Dax.
He nodded.
�
�Atlas will be her Water and Andarian her Fire,” he added.
“And I have to be her Earth… what could be worse?”
“Come, we can’t change it, so let’s get it over and done with,” Dax offered his arm and they made their way to a pavilion in the Summer Garden to take part in the Ritual of Elation of Sister Tarilla Sweetwater.
The Equimancers of the Realm were the protectors of the Structure.
In return, the Structure provided for them and offered them safety, but the Structure also knew how to protect itself from its protectors.
The Hidden City was one of the benefits of being an Equimancer; it was a wondrous place created by its inhabitants over many centuries.
It was a safe haven no other human could enter, no payments were necessary for food, drink or habitation.
The gates of the Structure knew who to let pass on the way in.
And the way out.
The Equimancers were fervent supporters of the Balance, but even the most devoted supporters lost their enthusiasm after a while. Having spent a lifetime protecting their ideals, not even they could escape hopelessness or jadedness. That was the time when they received their Warning.
Almost every single Equimancer tried to interpret the Warning; common consensus was, that it was a signal of the Structure when an Equimancer’s resolve was about to wane.
In some cases the Warning was building up over a longer period of time, in other cases it happened from one day to the other.
Most of the inhabitants of the Hidden City were wondering whether they would recognise it; they didn’t need to – it was unmistakable; the Equimancer’s Crown started to fade, gradually losing its colour.
They all recognised the Warning for what it was; the danger of becoming a threat to what they’d been fighting and living for.
On very rare occasions, there were some who tried to hide the fact that the Warning had arrived, but in a society where lies didn’t exist, it was an impossible task. Whenever this had happened, the Equimancer’s Crown turned black and an Enforced Ritual took place.
Equimancers going unstable was a risk the Structure couldn’t afford.
It never happened; there was no way to trick, outsmart or fool the Structure.
Nocturnia and Dax made their way towards the pavilion.
Andarian closed his eyes for a second to focus on the whereabouts of the Elated whom he had always sought out at times of doubt and trouble. He sensed the old Master in the Spring Gardens. Andarian had the courtesy to materialise about a hundred yards away from him.
‘No, son, you’re not disturbing me,’ Zabarius projected to Andarian as soon as he had noticed him.
“I’m merely fiddling with these plants, hoping to crossbreed them in the foreseeable future,” Zabarius said out loud when Andarian got within earshot.
“You’re looking well, Brother Zabarius. Has Nocturnia been experimenting on you with her wrinkle treatment?” Andarian smiled.
“That girl… if I didn’t know exactly what she thinks, I’d be convinced she wanted me,” Zabarius winked.
“I brought the drink for the Ceremony; the experimental beverage of Elated Xinia. Apparently, it’s mead crossed with mage-weed brandy,” Andarian held up a bottle filled with a liquid that he hoped he didn’t have to taste until he became an Elated himself. Nevertheless, today he would have to.
Elated Zabarius chuckled.
“That sounds as disgusting, as it is intriguing; I just have to have a little taste,” he said, eagerly snatching the bottle from Andarian. He took a sip, shivered and shook his head.
“Urgh, that’s what demons’ piss must taste like, but I don’t doubt its potency, for it could knock out a squad of mages within a few minutes,” he said with mischievously sparkling eyes.
Zabarius squinted at the younger Equimancer.
“Oh, come on son, that’s what they all think… out there… that we’re mages. We’ve made up this fancy word… Equimancers.
Don’t fool yourself. They either have no idea of, or interest in, what we are or they think we’re some kind of magical creatures, hurling fire-balls or freezing our enemies to the ground. Even though we do our… magic – don’t wince – on a different level, that’s what we are in the end.
I wonder when they’ll turn on us again… it’s bound to happen sooner or later. It always does.”
Andarian gave a sigh of defeat.
“Son, you know what I am, I have all the time in the World to waste, and courtesies have no meaning for me anymore, so I can go on babbling till the end of times, but you came to me with a purpose, so talk, I don’t feel like digging around in your mind,” Zabarius smiled at Andarian fondly.
“We need to go to Tarilla,” the First Servant said silently.
“So we do. Completely slipped my mind. It’s not such a big deal; just look at me,” Zabarius replied with an encouraging grin.
The others were already there; a very pale Sister Tarilla, and the twins Atlas and Atlaxa Quickfin. Nocturnia and Dax had arrived as well.
They all hugged.
Nocturnia scanned the other’s minds.
She could see that they were just as miserable as she was.
Zabarius produced the bottle that Andarian had given him previously.
He shared out the liquid in the glasses that were waiting to be filled on the table of the pavilion, and cleared his voice.
“My beloved Brothers and Sisters. I’m just an old Elated, so don’t expect any dignified speeches from me. So here goes.
Sister Tarilla, my former Second Servant, who could have risen to First Servant… but as we know you never aspired to such… eh, bad train of thought.
Tarilla, you always have been - and as long as you live you’ll always be - the mother of many of our sweet city.
Believe me when I say, that this won’t change after the Ritual.
I can see that most of you here think that this is like death.
But then again, I’ve told you all so many times; we will be here, we will have our abilities – albeit somewhat dampened, - we will be the same persons. The only thing that changes is our goals… which have defined us before, so yes, we will be different, but the same at the same time…
I told you, you shouldn’t have asked me to be the speaker.
Sister Tarilla, I can see that wasting time doesn’t agree with your nerves, so… shall we proceed?” he asked, and gave his long, white beard a quick chew.
Tarilla closed her eyes, took a deep breath and nodded.
Andarian stepped forward and said;
“I relieve you from your driving energy,” looking deeply into Tarilla’s eyes, channelling Fire from her in the form of a radiant red ray.
He took a step back to let Dax speak;
“I relieve you from your fighting spirit.”
Bright white light connected them for a few seconds, streaming towards Dax.
Atlas took her hands with tears in his eyes while a sparkling blue ray flowed towards him from Tarilla;
“I relieve you from your stirring emotions.”
Nocturnia was trying to suppress her loud sobbing, but she couldn’t help it. Zabarius took her hands, squeezing them encouragingly.
She stepped to Tarilla and said while crying uncontrollably.
“Your decision shall be final.”
A luminous yellow beam streamed towards Nocturnia, and then slowly died off.
They all closed their eyes, waiting for a few moments.
A clap of hands disrupted the silence.
“So, Tarilla, how do you feel?” asked Zabarius cheerfully.
Tarilla smiled.
“Relieved.”
“Let’s empty our glasses then,” Zabarius suggested.
Fegilovíxit, Areshadia
Matriarch Vipra of the Tribe of the Adder felt restless.
The letter she had been waiting for still hadn’t arrived. If she didn’t receive the news she needed soon, it wo
uld mean at least another year of war. And she wasn’t sure they could hold out for that much longer.
A servant entered.
“Úlmán, nipíltisikk o vukól,” he announced the arrival of a messenger, taking a deep bow.
She nodded.
“Do you want me to send him in straight away?”
“No, let him wash first, the stench of the last one you let in here, lingered for weeks,” she ordered and the servant backed out of the room.
Vipra steeled herself for the news from the two allied tribes.
She could smell the arrival of the messenger. They must have dipped him into a pool of concentrated orchid water, for his fragrance made her eyes water. She nodded at him. The messenger unrolled a worryingly long parchment.
“Úlmá, I bring the reports from Voltozabú and Tiziyúvíxit. The Tribe of the Wolf, the Tribe of the Vulture and our own have suffered the loss of two-thousand-three-hundred-and-eight casualties.
All the attacks came during the night. Seventy-five of them were workers returning from the New City, the rest were warriors defending the border.
Do you want me to give you the detailed report?”
“Let me guess; strangulation, poisoned darts and slit throats,” Vipra replied.
“That’s correct. On the upside, most of the attackers had been hunted down by the Warchief and his forces. They didn’t take any prisoners. All the captives had been impaled or quartered on the spot according to your orders.
The Commander of our troops humbly asks whether they should behead the captives before the quartering, or whether they should quarter them with their heads still on… just to make sure they follow your orders correctly.”
Vipra raised her eyes and hands toward the ceiling.
“Tell him to surprise me. I don’t care, as long as they don’t have more than two impalements per attack site. We don’t want to waste valuable building materials.”
“The Chobfisíl’s people aren’t very happy with our methods; they’d prefer so called cleaner executions,” the messenger added, staring at the floor.
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