Now, when meaning was paramount to whatever stability he hoped to maintain, he had none; nor did he possess any faith in the completion of his quest. Without his magic, without his power, he simply could see no way of finding the Scribe and leading him back to the cavern.
How silly had he been to believe in children's myths and the portents of faith before the supremacy of knowledge. Hundreds of years had passed through the hourglass of time between his introduction to magic and his mastery of it, and yet here he was, bereft of all he had become and forsaken by the very thing causing his brokenness. Broken because of a single experience that outweighed the summation of his years and years of an oaken dedication to the continuance of knowledge; and for what? For what!
He reached into his pocket and pulled out Anaria's folded paper upon which she had written her scribbles. Unfolding it, he examined them again; perhaps because he was looking to anything to draw some type of meaning to his now meaningless life, or perhaps he was seeking solace from anything that would remind him of his link to his life as a wizard. Regardless of his reasons, reasons that even he did not know the truth of, he vowed to keep this, his last and only possession from his past life. He was sure he saw some familiarity in her scribbles, but the depth of which evaded him. After a very long while immersed in his examination, he conceded that he was transferring his hope onto her silly paper and closed his eyes.
He must have dozed, because when he opened them again, he saw Anaria standing outside of his cell holding a plate of food. He took a moment to adjust to his new, magically voided reality, still saddened deeply because of what he could not feel, before he addressed her.
"Anaria, I did not see you there. How long have you been standing outside of my cell?" he asked with a faint smile.
"Only a few short minutes, Grand Wizard Intellos," she answered.
"Would you like to come in and sit down for a while?" he asked.
"Do you have another story to tell me?" she said excitedly at the prospect of another great tale.
Seeing her large smile, his eyes began to tear. He had so many stories, had been on so many adventures, and held so much knowledge to impart to the young wizards of today, but his burden had been shifted from raising and furthering their minds into, into what? It had just occurred to him that The Severing had not only removed any use of magic he could conjure, but had also removed any burden of purpose associated with it. Had Anaria not been present, he would have broken down and sank into his self-pity again; however, he drew a small portion of strength from the hope that he could model strong behavior and goodness, even without magic. Yet he was still unable to find enough of it to indulge her inquiry, "I am sorry, Anaria, but I find myself lacking the required strength to delve into the story of a grand adventure," he said as her eyes lost some of the hopeful spark they had contained only moments ago. "However, perhaps you can join me for this meal?"
"Thank you, Grand Wizard Intellos, but I have to return to Grand Wizard Esthinor soon. I am to accompany one of the new council members somewhere, though I do now know yet," she said as she entered his cell and put down the plate of food in front of him. He had always appreciated the magic imbibed into the cell bars and doors allowing its residents free and easy access without the need for a key. When The University was built, the wizards were wise enough to cast spells allowing the doors to be locked to its prisoners but still be opened by those who called it home. Such a small convenience, but one he appreciated, even to this day.
"Anaria, how many times must I tell you that you need not address me with that title. Not only am I not the Grand Wizard, but I am no longer a wizard," he said tenderly as he picked up a piece of bread and took a bit.
She turned her eyes down and Intellos could see the shame beginning to build across her expression for disappointing one of her perceived superiors, though in the rankings of wizards, she was now well above him. "I am sorry, Grand Wizard. It is just you have been the Grand Wizard for so long that I do not think I will be able to stop thinking of you in that way for a very long time."
"That is certainly understandable, Anaria, and I should not think it a cause for apology at all. I will have difficulty not thinking of myself as a wizard too. I did want to thank you for your assistance yesterday after the ritual,” he said as he took another bit from the bread.
Her shame-built frown turned into a smile when she realized how vital she had been to her one-time mentor. Seeing this, Intellos asked another question, "Tell me, Anaria, have you done any more of your scribbles lately? I should like to have more of them."
"I have not, Grand Wizard. Grand Wizard Esthinor has kept me very busy. He does not like it when I am idle with my time. 'Idle hands are The Devil's forge, and an idle mind is its forge master' he says," she said mimicking his voice, though it did not sound at all like him, just a deeper version of her own.
"What does he have you doing, if you do not mind answering my question?"
She sat down across from him, "Mostly, he has me writing down everything he wants me to write down, but only the stuff he says and does when I am with him. I still have to go to my classes and keep up with my studies. It seems he has me busy from the time I wake to the time I go to sleep."
"It sounds like you are playing a very important role to The University. So, you also take care of all of the prisoners, or am I the only one fortunate enough to enjoy your company?"
She grinned with pride and happiness again, "There is only one other in the dungeons with you. But he is kept on the other side."
"Is he a wizard like myself, or rather, like I used to be?" he asked, no intrigued as to who else Esthinor would keep prisoner.
"Oh, no, he is not a wizard at all," she said as she grabbed a little of the cheese that was on Intellos's plate.
"Why then is he here?"
"I do not know. But he does keep talking about God and a man named Jesus. But I do not know him either. Although he does sound very important from the way Esthinor acts," she said as she was chewing.
Could it be? Could there be another who has had the visions of the God and the Man named Jesus? But what does it mean if he was not the only one enlisted into the mission of faith? And possibly the most critical question: what does it mean that they are both here, in the same situation, both helplessly captive by forces greater than them? Were they both just playing the fool to another deception, or was their close proximity to each other part of a subtle symphonic orchestration wherein they were meant to each play an individual instrument forming an entwined melody for this part of the greater musical composition?
"Grand Wizard? Are you ok?" asked Anaria who had noticed that Intellos had begun staring into his plate of food.
"Oh, yes, Anaria. I am quite well. I was just thinking," he responded.
"I have to go back to Esthinor now. He does not like it when I delay in my tasks. Sometimes he gets mad when I am gone longer than he thinks I should be," she said as she stood up.
"Does he hurt you, Anaria?"
"No, he just speaks loudly sometimes, but then quiets right back down. He even apologized once for yelling too loudly," she said.
"That is good to hear. Be well, Anaria, and never stop scribbling," he said as his eyes begun to tear up.
She jumped into his arms and gave him a large hug, at least as large as a young girl was capable of hugging. However, to the young girl, it was the greatest hug she had ever given and because of that, it was the greatest hug Intellos had ever received.
Cesteptio
(Decpetion)
Thus far, the day had passed in a blur. As with all weddings, there was an impossible amount of details requiring attention. And while for most weddings, the majority of the details were, at least in part if not completely, managed by some or all of the participants, it would not due for the details of this wedding to be trusted to anyone but the best; and she was the best. At least, that is what High King Yahnaros believed. And for the moment his belief was shared, albeit reluctantly, by Lord Hint
hial of the elves. Both men required the best for their respective scions, which is why both men now required her.
Though her reputation was not always so. In fact, there was a time when it was, for the most part, ruined in the eyes of everyone, everyone who did not understand the workings of royalty and their political consequences, that is. Years ago, when there was no outlet for the rage of one of his royalty, the High King was left with no other decision than to utilize his considerable influence and, for lack of a better word, rig a rather outlandish legal process resulting in her guilt. Consequently, she lost the cornerstone of her adulthood and the freedom of working without the restrictions imposed by another.
But King Yahnaros was not without compassion, so he employed her as his royal concierge. However, he was not entirely altruistic either. He had a need that she was quite capable of filling. Even though the Silver Castle was not an inn or tavern, some of its functions were very similar, and since she had run the most successful one in the realm, he felt very comfortable placing his reputation, and that of the hospitality of the Silver Empire, squarely on her shoulders. She accepted it with ease just like when she found her husband in the act of betrayal. She made peace with her new life rather quickly, packed all of her belongings in just two hours’ time, and boarded the carriage sent by the High King himself.
During the pinnacle of The Dragon Lair's fame, she had the opportunity to entertain royalty on a few occasions. However, nothing could prepare her for hosting them every day; and not just the small Lords and Ladies of the bordering provinces, but those from across the whole of Avendia. Yet, even with her exposure to their unique and rather luxurious needs over the last couple of decades, for any and every occasion, again she found her preparation lacking related to her current endeavor - the first ever wedding between not just elf and man, but between an Elven Prince and Human Princess.
Presented as a proposition to the High King six months ago from Lord Hinthial's personal messenger as a way to solidify the aligning of the two greatest forces of peace in Avendia, it was first tentatively rejected on the basis of lines of succession. There simply could never be an elf ruling over the world of man, nor could there ever be a man ruling over the kingdom of the elves. But Lord Hinthial anticipated this and had a secondary messenger dispatched within days of the first.
Upon his arrival, High King Yahnaros poured over the legality of the proposed alignment drawing upon the considerable legal counsel at his disposal. He even brought out of retirement the great Angorin Benecostas Sulosin the Third, renowned and revered for his drafting of the amended inclusions into the Freeman's Doctrine which lead to the eventual abolishment of the slave trade. Well, at least its legal practitioners.
They poured over the documents for weeks, dissecting each and every word in both the common language and its Elvish original. At the conclusion of their research, and announced by Sulosin himself at the Council of Lords, he affirmed his belief in the proposition outlined by Lord Hinthial. In rather dramatic style, something he had always been known for during his speeches at the Council, he rose slowly when called upon by King Yahnaros and said, in a very loud and proud voice, "Good Lords, I would ask for your gracious understanding as I abate my welcoming of all of you and get right to the point, for it is sharp and presents with a truth that is already set on its path, a path to collide with us in the near future. Never before has an empire risen as high as we have as quickly as we have. It is true, we shine so brightly that our neighbors have become jealous and seek to understand our methods, some to mimic, and others to take. And while we have taken measures to ensure our freedom and safety though the unparalleled strength of our army, there will be a time when The Stone will fail; for alone we cannot stand against the combined might of our current rivals, and our rivals yet to come. This is truth! The Elves have seen it as well, but they have grown bolder in their protective methods. So, it comes to this: should we unite with the Elves, who have always been our faithful allies through the binding laws of our cultures, with a bond greater than any ink from any pen, or should we believe our pens alone provide a bond strong enough to resist temptations and distractions? Thus, what I present to you is the dilemma of our future. As to the legality of succession, we have inspected every word and every source of intent, and through our rigorous examination, we have found no threat to the succession of High King Yahnaros, nor any of his heirs. His line, and therefore, the line of the Silver Empire will stay intact in the hands of men. As for my stance, I can assure you I would like to believe that the written doctrines of legality are adequate to bond the men and elves together, but having seen the law fail on so many occasions, I must admit, rather reluctantly, that our pens will not be sufficient. We need an ink stronger than what we currently have. We need the ink of blood, the parchment of family upon which we can inscribe our futures with the pen of marriage. Only through the binding of Prince and Princess can we obtain the security we need to ensure the continuance of The Silver Empire and the unparalleled light it shines to all inhabitants of Avendia."
His rather emphatic speech created a minor debate, but in the end, it was clear the path the Lords of the Silver Empire had to choose. That very evening, High King Yahnaros had his best scribe draft an acceptance letter to Lord Hinthial. Though he thought it mildly concerning the letter did not originate from the current elf king, King Rendunial, he dismissed it because there was no elven prince to join with his daughter. And when King Yahnaros learned of King Rendunial untimely death at the hands of his own brother, the famed Eriboth, he further dismissed it as a fortuitous act of coincidence.
However, not the great speech by Sulosin, nor the debate that followed, and certainly not the death of the Elven King meant anything to her because she had been singularly focused on all of the details that both ruling entities deemed essential. And not one of those land-marked, historical occasions held any influence over the demands of the day, nor would they alter her planning, because she did not plan for elf and man and their respective futures. Instead, she planned for Prince Thorlian and Princess Gwenyia, two young adults whose mantles had earned them their current positions. As Prince Thorlian stood upon the raised dais and before the altar, and Princess Gwenyia was about to be escorted down an impossibly long isle by her father, she finally gave herself the allowance to exhale, the first real exhale she had allowed herself in the last four months. And with that exhale came the enchanting voice of Mylanas Ishanduil.
She alternated between singing in both elven and common so that all present could hear and understand her tale of love, though even without understanding the words, its impact would have not been lessened. But it was not limited to the love existing between two people. No, it was a love that reached deeper than the bond of flesh to flesh right into the love between the three ever present eras of time; past, present, and future. Her song revealed how through both the Prince and Princess, the past was allowed life as their actions were the reflection of teachers long since dead to mortality. She sang of the present and how these teachers would be allowed to celebrate along with the new couple as they bonded themselves and their nations together. And she sang of the future and the burden their marriage would carry for man and elf alike. Through linking these three points of time with her immortal voice, she perfectly reflected the decor of the event and creating an environment of peaceful surety resulting from the decision both races had made.
As Nadalize opened her eyes after exhaling four months of pressure and planning, she also let go of her host driven sight and allowed herself to see as one of her guests. And what she saw brought her to tears. There was such an expectation of perfection with the planning of all of the King's events, but for this wedding, that expectation was replaced with requirement. And exceeding all of her predecessors, she exquisitely met each requirement resulting in a perfection beyond what anyone thought possible for a representative of either man or elf.
Standing at the back of the throne room, on the top most level of the rows and rows of
built up seating, she was able to observe the breath of the beauty she had created. It was long decided that the only way to represent the melding of both races was to line the throne with a silver lattice work of fencing upon which were woven an uncountable number of lilies. But they were not just the common white lilies. They had been colored black against the wishes of the elven contingency; however, when set against the silver backdrop of the lattice work as well as the black tapestries that were used to line the back of the throne room, it created a spectacle unlike anything anyone had seen before. Likewise, and adding to the striking nature of the black flowers, the leaves that were normally green, were colored a slightly darker shade of silver causing a layered spectacle of depth. The black tapestries, the silver lattice fencing, the slightly darker silver leaves, and the black lilies created an awestruck response from each of the guests that no amount of colors could have produced. She looked up to the lighting and favored the lighted constructs created by the elves. Their unique glow muted any other colors allowing the black to stand out just a little bit more. With their starlight flickering, the whole of the throne room appeared to all onlookers as a negative of the night sky. Truly a masterful and counter-intuitive vision, but then again, she was known for her vision. Perhaps it was because of the emotional release built up over the last four months, or perhaps it was the stunning voice of Lady Ishanduil reminding her of days past, but regardless of the reasoning, she found her thoughts drifting to another time, another life, a life wherein she was mother an mentor for a young girl made woman before her eyes.
She thought of Athlorial quite frequently after the night she left giving her charge over her son, Torrick. But as time passed, the frequency of those thoughts faded, not because of any conscious effort on her part, but because of the normal progression of things when not in the sight of life's daily progression. Yet the intensity of those memories held a constancy that could not be dissolved no matter how much time had passed. And one night in particular contained a rather permanent placement within her possible regret and potential hope. It was the night she decided to give Torrick away.
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