Acadian: I was originally going to simply describe how lavishly furnished the noble's mansion was, in order to show how rich he is. That waiting room was meant to overawe all of his visitors. I was looking at pictures of RL Renaissance palaces like Versailles, and that led me to the idea of working in a subtle lesson in cosmology into the description. I am glad it worked out so well. It is like Zalphon was saying before about trying to use dialogue to convey information. Except in this case the dialogue was all in Aela's eyes.
btw. speaking of Versailles, the crosshatched hardwood floor was taken directly from that of
Versailles (it seems to be very popular even today)haute ecole rider: As you both noted, that was indeed the Living Dead Girl. She underwent a number of alterations to make her fit into the story and world. In fact, her actions form a very important (and horrific) part of ancient history, as will be alluded to later. Her name is now Phereinon (among other titles), she wears different armor, her sword Malediction is different from the games, etc... But deep down in that cold undead heart she is still the Persephone we know and love.
Hopefully the bandits will pay of well enough for Aela and Loria to keep up on their student loans.
Chapter 4.2Then they were at the door between the staircases, and the younger servant ushered them past. They found themselves within a study whose floor was covered in thick Aymaran carpets. A desk of glowing
solascran wood stood before a pair of wide windows. A full suit of ancient Rasen bronze armor was fitted out upon an arming dummy. A line of weapons stretched out to either side of it, old bronze swords and spears, a bright
astril arming sword, a gleaming black
lorcras great sword, even a recruve bow of the Aymaran nomads from Tiwanaku's deserts.
The bust of a bearded man that Aela recognized as the ancient philosopher Aritosthene graced one pedestal, flanked by other worthies whom she could not identify. Books sat in state like honored heroes within a series of velvet-lined cases. She recognized a few from their counterparts in the Ingenium's library: The Golden Bough, Mercurus the Thrice Great, The Book of Dzyan, The Mysteries of Magic were ensconced in glory, along with and more worthy manuscripts of magic and history by Trithemia, Agrapina, Heirdot, Alorri-Zrokros, and others.
Aela noted a space missing in one of the display cases, large enough to accommodate a book. For a moment her mind went to the one that the white-haired swordswoman had carried out with her. But that grand folio had been far too large to fit in the space that Aela saw. No, it must have been a different, more ordinary-sized volume that had wandered free.
A full-sized chariot of her own people - the Arvern - stood along one wall of the room. Floating above a pair of small wooden wheels, the simple, square cab was made of oak. Semi-circular panels rose knee-high to either side, but left front and back open. A long tongue stretched out before it, fitted with a yoke for two horses. Aela imagined that it must have been a replica, since no one had used such things since before the Skanjr came, centuries ago. In fact, now that she thought about it, nothing else in the room appeared to be less than four hundred years old.
Behind the glowing wooden desk and beyond the glass panes of the window was a wide atrium open to the sun. Green grass and flowering plants lined the airy expanse. In its center rose a marble fountain carved in the likeness of Sea Elves with arms raised high, as if they were drawing the fountain's water up into the air with their magic, only for it to spill about them in a crystalline shower.
Sitting behind the desk was a thickly-set Rasen dressed in black brocade crusted with rubies and stitched with cloth-of-gold. His mustache was black as pitch, but the gray, neatly-trimmed beard underneath betrayed his years. His raven hair was brushed back from his forehead in widow's peak. The dark eyes that stared out underneath were as fathomless and piercing as the abyss.
Still, Aela noted a slight tremble in his fingers as he inelegantly set down a gem-encrusted drinking cup. It clattered loudly upon the golden tray he set it upon, nearly knocking over a crystal carafe that was only half-filled with a smoky, amber liquid. The cup was clearly empty, otherwise it would have sloshed its contents all over.
Standing in each corner of the room was a warrior clad in mail overlaid by hardened leather vests. These were dyed green and emblazoned with a white stag's head. Their round shields were likewise decorated, and swords hung from their hips. Two of the oathmen were Rasen from their olive skin. The third's straw hair and liquid blue eyes betrayed his Skanjr heritage. While the final one bore the green skin and tusks of an
Assina, one of the Forest Orcs from far off Hiakwia.
They were less than four hundred years old, Aela thought wryly.
"My Lord Camna," Loria said with polished courtesy and bowed graciously. Aela curtseyed beside the elf, hoping she did not trip over her feet as she did so.
"I have been looking forward to meeting you, certainly more so than my other business of late." The Rasen looked away for a moment, to the empty spot in his book displays. His features fell into shadow, and he brooded for long moments upon the missing volume.
Camna rose from behind his glowing desk and strode around to face them directly. He was a great bear of a man, whose frame was sadly the worse for wear from too much good food and the merciless advance of age. Yet when he stared down at Aela, it was a great black wolf she was reminded of, that gazed down upon a sheep.
"You are Aela, are you not?" He gestured for them to rise, and both she and Loria straightened. "I understand you are the first
ardhanari to graduate from our old school's hallowed halls. The honor is all mine."
Now Aela noted the crystal-adorned staff beside the desk, and the
testamur framed in glass upon one wall. Its fine calligraphy proclaimed Serves Camna to have graduated from the Ingenium as a Master of the Arcane, just as her own did.
"My lord is most kind," Aela stammered, hunting for words that would not come to her tongue. She could feel the mana within him, and detected a glint in his eyes that showed he was aesensing her. She resisted doing the same, and could not help but feel like one of the many prizes he kept cased in glass around the study.
"Nonsense," Camna said with a matter-of-fact air that belied his obvious wealth and power. He spoke more like a tradesman than a pampered noble. "Kindness is something I have never been accused of, and for good reason."
He leaned his not inconsiderable bulk back upon the edge of his desk, and waved his oathmen away. The warriors filed from the room with a stamping of feet and jingle of steel, leaving the three alone.
"I mostly keep them around for show," he almost winked at Aela after the last shut the door behind him. "But sometimes they earn their keep."
Apparently he did not expect the warriors to need to earn their keep with her and Loria, unlike with the white-haired swordswoman. Aela supposed that was a compliment.
"Is it true that you,
changed yourself?" The older man's gesture to Aela's private parts made it plain what he meant, "with magic?"
"Yes it is my lord," Aela tried not to flush. But the aristocrat's stare made it hard not to feel self-conscious. "I rewove the threads of my aura. Well, I still am to tell the truth."
"And in so doing you rewove the threads of your body as well, remaking yourself in your own image," the old man sighed. "Amazing, simply amazing."
"I admire those who master their own fate, regardless of the opposition or consequences. You and I have that much in common. I graduated the Ingenium without two eagles to rub together, and a debt to a money-lender the size of the Bronze Sea. But from such humble beginnings I was able to build all of this."
"Let us hope that Aela and I are even half as successful," Loria said dryly.
Camna laughed, but it was a bitter sound, whose humor did not reach his eyes. It felt more like a pale imitation of happiness, made by someone who had never known real joy, "And you, an outsider elf, son of an outcast. How many times did you smuggle books in and out of the restricted section of the library? Aule Cursni always swore he would catch you at it and throw you out, but here you stand despite his best efforts."
"Well, the headmaster did come close that one time in-"
"I'm sure Lord Camna doesn't want to hear about
that," Aela shot the elf a glance. What smuggler wanted to brag about his infamy? "Perhaps my Lord would like to see what we brought him?"
"Yes, down to business." the Rasen looked at the sack pooled at Loria's feet. "My man said you brought me a suit of armor for my collection."
"Why not a mere suit of armor," Loria clucked, "but rather an opportunity. One to fulfill a lifetime of collecting."
"An opportunity it is then?" Camna raised an eyebrow. "You should come work for me. I can have you selling water to the Sea Elves."
"I've already done
that..." Loria breathed as bent down and opened the bag. From its canvas depths he produced the suit of
lorcras armor most recently worn by the high priest of the Dark Barrow. Cleaned of blood and grime, its glossy black lamellar plates reflected the sunlight with a high sheen. Each individual lamellae was an individual work of art, embossed with gently curving designs of fantastic beasts, astronomical symbols, and even floral motifs.
"It is a good thing I have more than two Alalian eagles to rub together these days." Camna's eyes glowed as he stared at the ancient
Silor armor.
Serves Camna