Monarchs Glen

OOC: This thread takes place at the end of the Second Era.

IC:

Wrapped within a thick cloak, a young looking man frowned over maps strewn across a large desk. His hair, a straggly blonde, had fallen over his pale face but he made no motion at all to move it. His eyes, faded grey that looked like the eyes of an elderly man more then this youth, were focused on the map before him and his thin lips were tight together.

Is this what it has come to? he thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair and rocked his head back. Staring at the ceiling of his tower, his depression began to take over him. Years ago, he had seen just too much in this war between Leto, Angelique, and Barnabas. Too many children slayed, too many friends lost, and too many lives dragged into the seemingly endless battle. The depression had become a constant companion to him, sometimes the only companion. He had faked his own deaths, trying to escape the battles, but always he was pulled back in.

Grabbing hold of the arms of his chairs, his knuckles going white, the man pushed back the shadows that began to creep over his soul.

A knock echoed through the room.

Just what I need, more good news.

With a flick of his wrist, an unremarkable circle glowed on the floor to his right. A small, pulsing light flashed into existence just a few inches above the floor. Pulsing like a steady heartbeat, it began to grow into a more human-like shape. The magic was easy to him now and it flowed from him in the barest trickle. Turning back to his desk, he let the magic work itself and studied the map before him.

"My Lord, the Council has news." Without turning his head, the man knew who was speaking. Sporting a thick beard and wearing the blue robes of his office, his Councillor Maurque stood within the circle, his balding head bowed in respect.

"What is it this time? Angelique goblins spotted in our forests or more Leto half-breeds stealing from our treasury which, by the way, happens more then it should," the young man said with a snap in his voice. It was true that thieves had too much freedom in the walls of Acadia, but it was the cost of focusing so much of their energy into training and focusing their magical talents.

There was a long pause and the man frowned, turning in his seat to look at the Councillor and what he saw on the man's face drained all humour from him. Marque, his long and trusted friend, had tears rolling down his face. In all the time that Marque had served him, he had never shed a tear. Not even when the news reached them of the Councillor's wife being attacked and killed while traveling from their estate to the city in their litter had he seen him cry. Marque had taken the news with a nod and had continued to deliver the reports of the battle that was then going on against the Brotherhood of Righteousness.

"What is it? the Lord asked again, this time more slowly and with clear concern in his eyes.

Councillor Marque shook his head as if to clear it. "One of our Future-seers had a vision. She said that there is darkness approaching the land of Mo'pri and is about to swallow us all," he said with a crack in his voice.

The Lord waved a hand in dismissal. "What's new? A darkness, an army, a plague. The Future-seers are always seeing doom approaching us and we always survived. What's got you so flustered?"

The Councillor swallowed. "She died shortly after her vision and all of our other future-seers have died as well a short time later. Screaming."

The Lord was on his feet, pushing the chair back so quickly that it toppled over, and rushed through the illusion of his councilor and towards the door. His heart was pumping in fear as he took the steps down the tower two at a time. Only once before had all the future-seers of Acadia had died in such a fashion. When the lies of Barnabas were spread and the great war had started. His ancestors had documented it well and all through his family line, they feared such an event would happen again. But none had.

Until now.

Passing the doors of the treasury, the armory, and the multiple living areas and war rooms, he made his way down to the bottom of the tower. Servants and aids alike scattered as he passed them and when a flock of ambassadors from the various other Knights tried to step in his way to get a word, he pushed them off to the side. Let politics be damned!

Getting to the base of the tower, the Lord took a quick look around. Servants and soldiers stood in groups around the circular room. Pointing to a few of them, he barked a few quick orders to follow him.

On a normal day, he would admire the tapestries that lined the room. Finely woven, they had been crafted by an old friend and depicted the battles that he had taken part of personally. In the forefront of them all was Sephrenia, the leader of the Knights of the Flame, and behind her, he was standing. It was supposed to be a reminder to him that he was part of the Knights, but to him, it felt like a constant reminder of being forgotten.

Today, however, he ignored them and moved to a barred door on the left of the room. As he approached, the heavy iron bar slid off and the door swung outwards. Below was a place that many had never seen, not even his fellow Knights. In the depths of the tower, secluded away from all outside influences, waited the future-seers.

The soldiers paused as the Lord stepped through the threshold, unsure as to what to do. Turning around, he motioned for them to follow and without waiting to see if they followed, he was moving down again.

"Should we follow?" one of the soldiers whispered to the other. "Do we have an option? Have you ever seen Lord Illusion so agitated?" the other replied before pushing his companion forward.

Again, Lord Illusion took the steps two at a time and the guards rushed to follow, however hesitantly. The depths of the tower were off limits to all but the Council and the Lord himself but now they were the first of the guards to actually be able to see what was down there. There had been rumours in the barracks, of course. From everything from a sleeping dragon to a horde of gold that could by the entire island of Mo'pri. It was all just speculative talk but now they were about to see for themselves and they cast glances at each other with a knowing glance.

The Lord knew what was down there and he was fearful of what he would see but his duty to his people made him continue downwards. He had only been down here once himself, unknown to the guards that accompanied to him, when his father had taken him to see the future-seers. Since then he had avoided it but know. . .

Coming to the true base of the tower, he paused. Resting his hand against the ancient wood, he tried to gather himself together. The door hadn't changed since his childhood, carved with the symbol of his house and circled by a massive eye, and he knew that it wouldn't. His Councillors, the only people to come down here to here the words of the future-seers, wouldn't dare deface it.

"What you are about to see doesn't leave here, understood?" he said in a no-nonsense tone and the guards quickly snapped a salute. They would have loved to be able to share this experience with their comrades but doing so would send them to the far reaches of the land or even to the front lines. "And whatever you do, don't touch them."

Drawing in a deep breath, he placed his palm on the door and pushed.

A reek unlike any of the guards had encountered before washed over them as the door opened. Both had seen combat, all the guards had at one time or another, and had seen their fair share of death but what they saw shook them to the core.

The room was circular, like all the others that took up an entire floor in the tower, though the floor in the center of the room was raised above two feet above the surrounding ground. On the pedestal were the bodies of a dozen creatures. Eyes like white bleached skulls stared sightlessly and thick, wavy hair the colour of cold ashes hung over their angular human-like faces. The skin is pale, the veins clearly distinct and their torsos and arms were feminine. Though what made them pause was the fact that where their legs should be were instead the bodies of turtles, the shells blackened and twisted as if put through a fire.

"My ancestors tried to create life. Their goal was to create something that would save lives," Lord Illusion said matter-of-factly as he walked around the pedestal. "They failed in that, of course, but created these instead. They see the future somehow. Lots of theories as to why, but not entirely sure myself." He stopped as he faced one of the creatures and bent down, his arms resting on his knees. "I had hoped he was joking, but he wasn't. They're all dead." He hung his head and was like that for a long moment.

He quickly stood up and made for the doorway. "I want you two to head out of the city immediately carrying this message to all the mage cadres you can find. Tell them this: the eyes are closed." He had been told that after the future-seers had died in this fashion the first time, that his ancestors had sent sealed documents to all the powerful mage schools at the time. He didn't know what was in that document but the warning words had been hammered into his brain at a young age.

The guards looked at each other one more time, looked at their liege, and bolted from the room.

"I just hope it isn't another great war brewing," he said with a glance over his shoulder towards the future-seers. They would be reborn in a few years, hopefully, but until then they were blind.

What had they seen? he wondered as he stepped through the door and closed it firmly behind him.

From the top of his tower, he watched the two guards race through the twisting city streets. They both had been given extra mounts and enough supplies to get them a few days away from Acadia. The closest wizard compound was only a day away and if they took heed of the words the guards carried, they would lend them their aid before coming here.

His hands gripped the stone and he knew that he could reach the others quicker. It would take a fair amount of his art to do it, but the LuSuoles had a hidden reserve of magic humans couldn't touch. The source of that power was a secret that he had to keep from the citizens of his city and that was the only thing that kept him from reaching out to his Sidhe brothers.

Pushing himself away from the window, Lord Illusion began to pace the floor.

The LuSuoles had come to Acadia, then nothing more then a poor hamlet, in the guise of wandering wizards. They had stayed, being drawn into the drama of the people and into their fights, but also drawn by their warmth and compassion. It wasn't long before they were thrust into a semblance of a government. The LuSuoles loved the people of Acadia, almost as much as they loved the Art, and it was this that caused them to hide their heritage.

The people of Acadia had accepted them because they had looked human and to tell them otherwise now would cause all the good they had done to collapse. The farm irrigation systems would be left to topple, the roads would be abandoned to nature and the town would fold in on itself and shun the outside world as they once had.

The LuSuoles had accepted the responsibility thrust on them. They chose to limit their lives to that of the humans they served. And serve them they still did.

Now, however, he felt that that decision had doomed them all. How he wished he could draw on the knowledge of his ancestors. Would they be able to find out what the future-seers had seen? Or would they just drown like he feared he would.

His movement came to a screeching halt and his head whipped around to a closet on the wall. He hadn't left in years, hadn't stood in the front lines with the armies of Barnabas in years. The Knights of the Flame probably wouldn't come to his aid, indeed, most had probably forgotten he even existed. He might have to contact outside help.

Moving purposefully, the Sidhe known as Lord Illusion threw open the closet. Inside were a myriad of artifacts from his journeys; a sword from the Thirteenth Baatorian Legion, a vial of sand from the Oasis of Kuzuf al-Narr, a coin with the mark of Inverness on one side and a forgotten leader on the other. Next to his collection rested his traveling staff. Running his hand over its worn surface, he smiled faintly. How many adventures had the two of them had and it seemed that they would have at least one more.

Studying his maps and tomes, Aelsius tried to keep his mind from the problem at hand. There were still wars to fight, letters to send, and envoys to meet. There was still a kingdom to run, though to call Acadia a kingdom was like calling a hamlet a metropolis. The city itself held the main population that he had sworn to protect, with only a few hamlets and farms outside of the walls. His land only ran a few days ride in either direction with the river forming their northern border and steep valley walls to the south but in itself, the land didn't have much value. Unless you took in the fact that it was quickly becoming a major port and trade route. Those merchants who wished to avoid the conflicts of the wars often took refuge in Acadia, knowing how Aelsius felt about it all.

Was that why the Knights had forsaken him?

He had never taken the war seriously, it was merely a diversion at first from the endless meetings and duties that his family had placed on him by adopting this area. But that changed when he had met her . . .

A quick shake of the head and that thought was gone. It was no use focusing on something that could never be. She had fallen in love with another, one fighting against her at that, and had born him a child. Meanwhile his anger towards himself had driven him off more then once, even going so far as to fake his own death. But always he was drawn back to the Knights, to her, but also to the wars that killed so many of his people.

Aelsius threw a tome against a wall, the binding breaking and sending the pages fluttering down to the floor. The guards had been out for too long without a reply, without any word of aid from a mage cadre. Had he been abandoned? The other Sidhe hadn't come to this area in the living memory of the humans. Maybe they had left the LuSuoles to their fate.

What was happening out beyond his borders? Even the envoys and merchants were silent on that. Had the wars heated up again?

Too many questions and not a single answer.

The scrolls lay beside him, moved aside to let his thoughts wander. What had the future-seers seen? More then once he had tried to figure out why the could do what they do, but that thought led him to the experiments that had created them in the first place. His ancestors had done many such experiments, he had learned. One unscrupulous LuSuoles had even taken to 'blessing' newborn children in the city, though his true intent had been a little more malicious. The children were his, all begotten by using his illusions to make himself appear to be their lovers or husbands. A few easy spells decreased the possibility of future genetic anomalies and those children had been allowed to grow and have children of their own.

The 'humans', he had discovered, carried the genetic traits of the Sidhe, though his family had been careful to control the Art that some were able to control. Those that had a strong enough Art were made Council members while those with lesser talents served the family in other functions.

How disgusted Aelsius was when he had discovered this, but it was possible that his ancestors actions might help to save them all in the future. If they all carried the Art, even if it hadn't yet been tapped, the people of the city might be able to avert the disaster.

But he needed to know more.

Pushing the scrolls of his desk, he moved again to the closet. The guilt of his family had laid heavily on him over the years, the good they had done only slightly outweighing the bad. But now he would find a way to save them, find a way to make his family name honourable again.

------

It had been two days since he had left the confines of Acadia, leaving the Council to rule in his stead, and Lord Illusion never felt freer. The sun shining on his face felt rejuvenating and the feel of the grass under foot gave him a bounce to his feet that he had thought he had long forgotten. How easy it would be, to abandon his people to his fate and live as he once had, taking on the persona of a bard or petty magician. The roads were many and there were even places the Sidhe had yet to discover.

These thoughts went through his head and for a moment that felt like an eternity, he considered it. But Lord Illusion knew that such an action would cause him something far greater then the rule of a kingdom; it would cost him shame.

He took the same road that he had sent his soldiers, hoping to intercept any messages that would return, but it had been years since he had walked this far. Already his joints were hurting with every step and his muscles screamed at him to stop.

"You're getting old," he mumbled to himself as he took a seat on a rock overlooking the road. It would take a simple spell to increase his movement, but Aelsius felt a certain pride in the pain. It was human pain, pain that others of the Knights had lived with for years. Walking like this, he felt closer to him. Closer to her...

It took a few moments for the Sidhe Lord to realize that he was not alone, to accept the faint ringing that pulsed through his Art-filled blood. He turned to his right and saw a younger Sidhe sitting in the shadows, a little ways further from the road, the remains of a light lunch scattered before him.

"Hello, Art-kin. What brings you into the wilderness?"

It had been years since he had to detect a Sidhe by their Art. His Councillors had the Art, but he was so accustomed to them they were like a constant background noise. It had been so long that he didn't even detect the other Sidhe until the voice broke him out of his reverie.

"Hail, Brother," he said as he pushed himself to his feet. Adjusting his robes, he looked around with his eyes but when they failed to detect anything, he pushed his senses inward to his Art. Embracing it, he felt the smooth rush of it fill his being and everything became sharper. The wind that caressed the leaves soon became music and the earth beneath his feet pulsed with its own heartbeat. Then he felt it, like a sun shining on his skin to his left. The presence of another Sidhe.

Did this one get the message, or had his soldiers failed to reach him?

"I go out seeking aid. I'm Aelsius LuSuoles of Acadia," he said softly as he placed his palm on the top of the staff. "And the eyes are closed." Would this Sidhe understand the warning? His ancestors had tried to make sure most of the cadres in this region would understand that warning, but what if this Sidhe was not local or had they felt the warning useless?

The Sidhe nodded thoughtfully and stood, hands reaching behind him to untie a talisman attached to a necklace of leather cord. As the metal orb was stowed in a pocket, suddenly Aelsius could sense the Sidhe far more easily.

"Forgive me, I forgot I still had this on. It makes it useful when dealing with others of our kin when one does not wish to be ... disturbed."

The pause was just shy of deliberate, but the meaning was clear. The Sidhe was a thief, with the equipment needed to avoid detection by his own kind. The Sidhe smiled as he saw the reaction in Aelsius' eyes.

"Not to worry, my friend. I gave that up two hundred years ago. Its not a job with a long life expectancy, after all."

The Sidhe strode forward, offering a hunk of cheese to Aelsius.

"Hungry?"

Not waiting for an answer, the Sidhe tossed the cheese and continued speaking.

"I spent a few decades with one of the nearby assemblages of mages, and they loved talking about these Eyes. Never got close enough to those who mattered to understand exactly what they were. Closed, you say? Well, I assume that's bad, otherwise you wouldn't be seeking aid. Well, if I can help, I will. Make up for some past actions, you know?"

The Sidhe stuck out a hand. "Name's Angrod."

How he wanted to be able to examine that talisman more closely. What magic had been woven into it that could hide the Art of a Sidhe? To have one of those would make you practically invisible to another Sidhe and that would be a great boon but it would also have its draw backs. Should one of them fall in the wrong hands, such havoc could be caused!

Rolling the cheese in his hand, he offered the Sidhe a smile. He was always wary around those of his own kin, having spent very little time with them and often he got protocol wrong. The LuSuoles never really visited the other Sidhe and likewise the Sidhe never visited the LuSuoles. The only thing that they kept in contact with was the newest ways to manipulate the Art.

But how much could he trust this one?

"It's good to hear that someone has remembered the warning," he said softly before biting into the cheese and took the offered hand in a friendly manner. "I know all about trying to make up for the past." A grin. "And yes, the Eyes being closed in a very bad thing. You didn't happen to see some soldiers on this road a few days ago? There would have been two, riding hard."

The Sidhe grinned.

"Yeah, I saw them. But they didn't have horses anymore. One was limping and had a pretty impressive-looking blood-stained bandage wrapped around his right thigh. I think they might have run afoul of a mountain cat or the like. They grow big up here, at least from the four I've seen since starting down this road.

I would have stopped, you see, but, well..." a shrug "... old habits. I take it they were going to warn the Sidhe that the Eyes were Closed? They might have gotten there by now, assuming that nothing else happened on their journey."