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Old February 27, 2010, 01:38 PM   #1 (permalink)
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[Primus Gaudeo] [Concordia Incola] Offices of the Governor of Centripax

The Hall of the Governor might have been the official entrance to the offices currently occupied by the leader of the province of Centripax, but the actual realm of the Lady Governor was deep within the arched double doors at the end of the corridor. Outside a pair of blue-and-white-bedecked guards stood at alert attention to either side of the wooden frames. Their dress was both ceremonial and official in a blend of elegant formality and common practicality, as matched with the extent of their duties. They had been charged with both scanning the petitioners to the inner sanctum of the Governor as well as providing a symbol of the strength of the city of Primus Gaudeo and the province at large.

All walls, floors, and ceilings had been fashioned out of the cold white marble typical to the Concordia Incola district, although this particular stone seemed to shimmer with sheen of blue. In direct contrast stood the darkly stained wood of the front door, often seem to swing on their heavy hinges as the guards allowed yet another guest that had passed their quick inspection into the Governor’s inner sanctum. Echoes of the footsteps of aides and other politicians resounded in the hallways before finding themselves muffled underneath the closure of the arched doors.

Inside the office, the gentlest echo of cascading water could be heard from the far corner of the room as the final end to the sounds of the busyness outside. A small fountain, no more than three feet high, had been shaped into an uneven cylinder as water was pumped up to its top and allowed to bubble at its tip before falling in cascades toward the surrounding circular pool. The aura of natural beauty extended to the numerous windows bedecking two out of four surrounding walls, all intended to bring in the fullness of the light allowed from the triple suns outside. A few elegant curtains, colored in a matching demure shade of blue, had been hung at either side of the panes of glass but found their shading abilities falling into a continual disuse under the preference of the office’s owner for the extreme amount of natural light.

The streams of illumination fell onto the surrounding four walls, broken into round pillars standing between the windows on the horizontal sides of the room. The wall directly before the entrance, however, had been dressed with only two windows on either side of the center expanse. Cold stone was replaced with the warmer tones of an expansive crest colored light and dark blue with the crowned flower of representing the province of Centripax. Underneath the Province’s motto, “Peace and Tolerance Shall Set Us Free” had been carved in elegantly-scripted letters and painted dark in the center of the embedded desk as a contrast to the pale colorings of its background wall.

Underneath the crest, the white-marble desk of the governor stood in all its expansive glory, stretching four lengths further than one could reach with outstretched arms on either side. Its top was perpetually covered with loose paperwork half-signed and filled with scribbles while other piles still remained sealed into rounded cylinders, bearing the official wax seals of their senders. A few fat cream candles sat on dishes of silvery metal in artfully arranged trios, although their original heights had been greatly reduced by late-darkening use.

The large arm chair usually found occupied by the personage of the governor had been made in the overstuffed style and upholstered with a thick, velvety deep blue embroidered with threads of silver-grey. Matching sapphire chairs had been placed at equal angles before the desk itself and centered about a deeply-stained wooden table. The latter held a small tray of various empty glasses and half-filled bottles, all waiting to perform their duty of refreshment to any and all visitors. A few bookshelves, mostly carrying collections of leather-bound tomes of knowledge and the memories of the past deemed useful to the Governor’s usual doings had been set in carefully-arranged order in their appropriate sets. Little other decoration of the office could be seen, minus perhaps a few more collections of candles and their following candelabras placed in strategic areas of the room.

The governor herself could usually be found busied amid a pile of paperwork, sometimes reading, other times writing correspondence to and fro from her seat of provincial power. A set of feathered quills rested in a crystal cup at her elbow, matched by an elegant dark ink well to aid her business of the brightening. Various aides and secretaries often made their way into the office, carrying important notices or information needing the governor’s approval, or at least knowledge, immediately.

Governorship begins 1 Imannis, Era XVI Post-Fractum.
Letters and visits for the governor and duchess, Tiyribi Andares, may be posted here.
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Old February 28, 2010, 06:07 PM   #2 (permalink)
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20th of Ponutis, Winter of Era XVII PF

Exactly two cycles after sending her missive, Tiyribi received reply from Mystique. Just before Pracenda a messenger had delivered a stack of scrolls, rolled up and held together by a ribbon of red and gold. Attached to it was the seal of the province of Lauryl.

Malkaer apparently had no qualms about writing in esh'lahien and had scribbled down his message in the long runes of their native language over many sheets of paper. His handwriting was void of unnecessary embellishments; the letter was written quickly -but not sloppily- with a steady, practiced hand.


 
13 Ponutis, Era XVII, Mystique

Dear Tiyribi,

My family continues to amaze me. After we spoke in Medonia I detected a great strength in you, my dear sister, but it was slumbering underneath a heavy blanket. I held a shimmer of hope that you would cast it off and prayed for this to happen, but I never expected Ioannes to honour my prayers so soon. I am well and I trust you are also. It was brave of you to go back to Centripax to take up Governorship there and also wise: had His Royal Highness granted you to another position a lingering doubt would have continued to exist in your mind. Now you can prove your worth to yourself, the Gods and the world.

This shall not be easy of course. I have corresponded with Archalen about his resignation from Governorship of Enamoria, but first off you will be glad to know that he is healthy in spirit and the flesh. He has a new function which requires him to be in the Sherian -indeed I pray for his safekeeping every darkening- and has no address for correspondence except for a decrepit bar in Imperia. I will give you the address, but in truth if or when Archalen desires contact he will approach you rather than the other way around. If you are lucky he sends his missive with a messenger that can also bring back a reply.

As I said I inquired after his resignation, and his answer concerned me. He felt that he could accomplish very little as Governor, constricted by a web of bureaucracy and ineptitude. I would like to ask you to heed the advice I am about to offer so that you will not fall in the same trap as our brother.

I like to use the metaphor of horse riding for governing a Province of the Realm. Each province, like each horse, is a unique entity, with its own features and whims. Each rider or Governor is likewise unique, with his or her special strengths and weaknesses. Some riders are not talented enough to remain seated on any horse's back; some horses are too unruly to suffer any but the greatest rider.

But no matter how awful the rider or undisciplined the horse, both can be trained. Furthermore, reins, stirrups and saddles have been invented to make horse riding easier. To put it into political terms: what a Governor should do first when appointed is to build new political institutions or mould old ones to aid him to remain on his horse. No one can survive on political talent alone without the support of institutions to back him. A Governor should work in widening concentric circles.

The most important and closest institution of a politician is his personal support staff, who serve him directly and follow him to any new position. I have built up mine over the course of many eras and it consists solely of esh'lahier. As it must be difficult to find members of our race in Centripax, I can send you someone trustworthy to handle correspondence and appointments if you wish.

The second circle a Governor must ensure the loyalty of is the Provincial Council. In the first months you should try identify anyone who might challenge your position and supplant them swiftly with those you can trust. This does not mean one should create a cabinet of yes-men; by all means critical subordinates are often useful. However, you must be certain that they will never cross you in public. I generally remove all lightborns from important positions. The posts of Exchequer, Justicar and Provincial Commander are the crucial positions. The military deserves extra mention in this regard. Always ensure that you command the allegiance of the armed forces of the province, especially those stationed in the capital.

The third circle consists of lower bureaucrats and Thanes in other cities than your capital. Sometimes a Governor is Provincial in name only and de facto a first Thane amongst equals. Thanes often hail from local elites and as such are often more concerned with the welfare of their home city than the province at large. The last stage for a Governor is to build up a provincial bureaucracy at local level that really follows the orders coming from the center.

I have currently just completed that final phase here in Lauryl, more than one era after my appointment. It is a project that has progressed slowly and with much effort. In the coming era we shall see how it performs when I intend to reap the benefits of a streamlined and loyal provincial bureaucracy. I am a proponent of firm and absolute leadership, but remember that horse and rider must form a team in order to be successful. That said, the rider should always be the master of the horse, rather than the other way around.

I hope that these words will aid you in your endeavours in the Concordia Incola. Should you have any questions about provincial politics I am eager to aid. Criticism is likewise welcomed; I have come to this knowledge through long exchanges with many bright minds and certainly do not consider this program to be the end-all of being a successful Governor. I am able to visit Primus Gaudeo in Cryxatum or Aperitus in the next season, Optia being a busy month here. You are of course always welcome in Mystique. Most of the time I am available at the Bluestone Palace if you notify your arrival a cycle or so in advance. I look forward to seeing you again and pray for your health and those under your care.

May Ioannes keep you,

Malkaer
 
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Old March 1, 2010, 04:47 PM   #3 (permalink)
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1st of Ponutis, Winter of Era XVII, PF

A letter arrived for the Governor:

Quote:
Her Imperial Excellency, Tyribi Andares, Governor of Centripax
Offices of the Governor at the Concordia Incola

Her Imperial Excellency,

Welcome back to your rightful position, your excellency. Centripax is the better for having someone with your wisdom and grace at the helm of it.

As to myself, I, your faithful Lord Chamberlain, I am spending this season touring the province and making sure all the cities are doing well. As far as I can determine, all is well. Morale is high and the people are content.

I would be happy to meet with you in the beginning of the spring season should you require anything.

-- Dagrun Murrough,
Provincial Lord Chamberlain of Centripax
Lord Chamberlain's Office
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Old April 13, 2010, 08:55 AM   #4 (permalink)
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Ring On His Royal Highness' Service

Timestamp: Cryxatum 19, In the Beginning of the Third Era of the Principate of HRH Prince-Regent Milo I, Era XVII after the Aetherfracture.

A cloaked Cencoris of the 26th Principality Shields with an escort of five horsemen delivered a missive secured by the crimson seal of the Ministry of War - an Imperial Warbird surmounting the laurels of victory, and a crossed sword and quill. He brought with him two bottles of vintage Lysandrian Sanguis wrapped in red ribbon and a rather plump, ready-to-eat giftwrapped ham - a very delayed Primehiems gift.

 

To Her Excellency the Governor
Primus Gaudeo, Administrate of Centripax

 




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Cryxatum 3,
In the Beginning of the Third Era of the Principate of HRH Prince-Regent Milo I,
Era XVII after the Aetherfracture.


Your Excellency,

I bring fair greetings from Prime the capital of this our realm.

I have the honor, on behalf of His Royal Highness' Government, to make known to you the following document, a Covenant Agreement, also known as the Treaty of Zerdargia, which was concluded between His Royal Highness' Government and representative subjects of HRH of Zerdargia and the Dwarflands in Immanis last era. This has likewise been given Royal Assent and is now part of the law of these lands.

This document brings to rest the festering concerns of HRH's subjects with respect to dwarven self-determination, autonomy, and culture, and by doing so, promote Lex, Ordo, and Iustatique within Aelyria, most particularly in the Administrate.

I should also like to meet with Your Excellency to discuss matters of mutual interest at a time and place of your choosing. If in Prime, I understand that the Administrate's Senate offices continue to be maintained in due form, so there is no need to spend a darkening or so at the Crown.



Fair winds always,


Alexis Sapientia
Minister of War and Lord High Admiral.
 



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Whereas, the parties of the first part herein subscribed as the government of the Aelryian Kingdom ("the Kingdom"), most notably HRH Prince Milo L'Evienne I and in consultation with His Minister of War Alexis Sapientia; and the parties of the second part, the government of the City of Zerdargia and the immediate territories surrounding it including Center of Peace Sanctuary extending to the North foot of Mount Juno; the Protectorate of the City of Zerdargia, Harding, a Cether hamlet approximately 10 kilometers West of the Walls of the City; and the forest East of the East Wall now known as Dugbys Forest; all of which may be generically referred to as "Dwarflands" administered by the Council of Four, the Lairds of the four major clans in Zerdargia: Clan Burk; Clan Derisson; Clan Weatherstone and Clan Goldbrick do hereby covenant in perpetuity the terms of this agreement allowing the City of Zerdargia to remain politically, socially, financially, and militarily independent of the Kingdom with the title of Protectorate of the Kingdom with these provisos:

Article I
- That the government and people of the City of Zerdargia (hereafter to be known as "the Protectorate") remain loyal citizens of the Kingdom without interference from the Kingdom or its representatives.

Article II-
That the Kingdom allow the Protectorate the right to self-govern their city as they so choose excepting in matters of loyalty to the Kingdom. The Protectorate will maintain the Veldar Elite Guard Corp. to protect themselves from enemies and criminals within its above-described boundaries, inclusively known as Dwarflands. The Kingdom shall have no responsibility to attach any Kingdom troops or any branch of its military forces within the Protectorate. The Protectorate will harbor no known rebels of the Kingdom, nor furnish them provisions, arms, or shelter, excepting in cases of deception, spies or other unknown enemies. Upon discovery of any covert rebels within the Protectorate, Veldar Elite Troops shall escort such enemies of the Kingdom to Midland Fortress for trial by the Kingdom’s adjudicators. If warfare should commence within the boundaries of the Protectorate, the Veldar Elite Guard shall protect and defend itself against all enemies of the Kingdom.

Article III
That this Covenant Agreement shall be enforceable by both parties with an arbitrator or emissary agreed to by both the Kingdom and Protectorate. Such emissary shall be appointed by the Kingdom and such title shall be of Ambassadorial rank. Such emissary shall be housed by the Protectorate at their expense in suitable lodgings including servants, in the new residential section of Zerdargia. It is agreed that the first emissary of the Kingdom shall be Her Excellency Mrs. Ada Stromb. Subsequent emissaries must be approved by the Protectorate before they are allowed to take their official residence in the Protectorate.

Article IV That taxes and all other tribute to the Kingdom shall be paid to the Kingdom on the last brightening of its fiscal era, which date is the 50th brightening of the month of Kalendryas, such sum to be negotiated each era according to a formula to be agreed upon by both parties. Such formula will be attached to this document as Addendum 1 and signed and dated at the time of the execution of this Treaty, It will be stipulated in this Addendum 1 that no other levies or demands for money, conscription of citizens, military presence of the Kingdom troops or any Kingdom laws enacted subsequent to the date of this Treaty which would cause such demands to be levied upon the Protectorate shall be made by the Kingdom upon the Protectorate or its citizens and business owners. Such hostile action would be construed by the Protectorate as an Act of War and would render this Treaty null and void.

Subscribed to this ____ brightening of Immanis, in the Era XVI by the parties present:

Fore the Kingdom:


His Royal Highness Milo L’Evienne I

His Excellency Alexis Sapientia

Her Excellency Mrs. Ada Stromb

Fore the Protectorate:

His Excellency Wilbur Weatherstone, Thane

Eli Goldbrick, Laird of Clan Goldbrick

Grondel Burk, Laird of Clan Burk

Dunbar Derisson, Laird of Clan Derisson

Norin Beldwhig, Ambassador to the Crown

 





The documents were secured by crimson sealing wax, bound with crimson ribbon, and bearing the Minister's own seal - a sigil of the Imperial Warbird wreathed in laurels of victory, bearing a baton, surmounting a crossed sword and a quill.
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Old May 6, 2010, 07:34 AM   #5 (permalink)
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Ring Letter to the Governor.

Timestamp: Cryxatum 31, In the Beginning of the Third Era of the Principate of HRH Prince-Regent Milo I, Era XVII after the Aetherfracture.


The reply was not long in coming.

A cloaked Cencoris of the Mage Corps arrived by means of Teleportation and delivered a missive secured by the crimson seal of the Ministry of War - an Imperial Warbird surmounting the laurels of victory, and a crossed sword and quill.


 

To Her Excellency the Governor of Centripax
Primus Gaudeo, Administrate of Centripax

 




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Cryxatum 31,
In the Beginning of the Third Era of the Principate of HRH Prince-Regent Milo I,
Era XVII after the Aetherfracture.


Your Excellency,

Greetings once again from Prime.

I thank you for your missive and likewise express my gratitude for your gifts, which are indeed exquisite and highly prized by my good self.

Your Excellency will be pleased to know that despite the prorogation of the Senate, and since the departure of the Administrate's servant, Senator Drega, your senatorial legation has remained fully staffed and stands ready for Your Excellency's pleasure. In this age of a more stable realm, I agree that it would be poor form for high officials of state to bunk at the Crown Inn and Tavern, considering the unnecessary expense, discomfort, potential distractions, and security concerns involved.

In this respect, I would be honored to be your guest for pracenda at your senatorial legation here in Prime. Darkening of Aperitus the 30th seems auspicious. I have sent word to your staff at the Senatorial Circle to make the proper initial preparations for your pending arrival, and I believe that they will be most excited to have such august a dignitary in their presence once again. I have likewise sent word to the Palace of your potential arrival, should you see fit to seek audience with HRH at this time.

I have enclosed a copy of the appropriations from HRH's coffers with respect to continuing expenses in this matter for your perusal. Please rest assured that these expenditures remain fully guaranteed and paid timely by HRH's Government, and, as always, remain subject to your pleasure as the senior authority of the Administrate of Centripax. While they are paid by His Royal Highness, they remain subject to Centripaxian law, custom, and authority.

I look forward to our meeting in person. Please hasten word to Prime should there be anything else we may further provide for your pleasant stay.


Fair winds always,


Alexis Sapientia
Minister of War and Lord High Admiral.
 





The documents were secured by crimson sealing wax, bound with crimson ribbon, and bearing the Minister's own seal - a sigil of the Imperial Warbird wreathed in laurels of victory, bearing a baton, surmounting a crossed sword and a quill.
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Old June 22, 2010, 09:37 AM   #6 (permalink)
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10th Ioannes
In the Season of Summer, Era XVI

A letter was sent to the Concordia Incola in Primus Gaudeo by a messenger garbed in the livery of the Royal Courier services. He seemed to have ridden long and hard, though still managed to walk and hand over the missive over to the Governor's aide with dignity.

The seal of the wax that was pressed against the letter indicated that it had come from the Royal Advisory in Prime, and from the Lord Advisor himself.

 
Her Royal Excellency,
Lady Tiyribi Andares, Governor of Centripax
Concordia Incola
Primus Gaudeo, Administrative of Centripax
 


 Salutations and greetings from the Royal Advisory.

Your Excellency, I hope this missive finds you in good spirits and health and that the Summer heralds good tidings for Centripax.

As recently appointed Royal Advisor, it is my mandate to study and learn of various information of interest and value that may affect the decision-making process within the Royal Council and to advise the Ministers and the Prince himself on various information gathered around the realm which may have vital consequences if implemented.

To do so, the Roal Advisory would require a deeper understanding on the inner-workings of the various Provincial Governance and as such, I would like to arrange a meeting with your personage on the 50th of Ioannes, and request for allocated apartments for myself and my staff to learn more about the recent happenings of the Province of Centripax.

In Faith
Roscarnis de Lylles
Royal Advisor to the Council of Crowns
 
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Old August 27, 2010, 09:55 PM   #7 (permalink)
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50th of Ioannes
In the Season of Summer, Era XVII

The Royal Advisor arrived with little fuss and fanfare befitting that of a Royal Official from the Council of Crowns. Allowing the guards at the City gates to escort his convoy with a silent wave of his hand as a gesture of acquiescence, Roscarnis de Lylles mentally prepared himself with his meeting with a particular Tiyribi Andares.

There was a sense of weariness emanating from the man and his troupe as they entered the Western City of Primus Gaudeo, towards the Concordia Incola, rumored to have been traveling from Arium of the Western Lands. While the Royal Advisor had taken time off during the first month of Summer, he had dived right back into work for the latter part of the Season, first to the Western lands of Arium to disband the rouge intelligence network known as the House of Whispers, and thereafter making the journey by land over to Centripax. To the more discerning eye, a visible sign of relief could also be observed underneath the fatigue, or perhaps the exhaustion was brought on by such an alleviation.

He was after all, at the very last leg of his Provincial tours, Centripax being his very last stop after the Sheria Enclaves had been taken to task by Archalen Andares and the Carmelyn ones being handled by one Garnier de Reyes. The various Enclave leaders that had been elected would be underway in ensuring the Enclaves are functional by Spring of Era XVIII when he would begin Provincial inspections.

After ensuring that the rest of his staff were properly unloading their baggage from the carriages and preparing the allocated apartments courtesy of Governor Andares, the Royal Advisor wasted no time, and with his two twin Vagaran guards that looked so alike that no one needed to be told they were related; began their way towards the offices of the Governor.

"Serale. Do inform Her Royal Excellency that His Royal Excellency and Grace, the Lord Royal Advisor, Roscarnis de Lylles, has arrived." The young, blond guard murmured politely while Roscarnis belayed instructions to his younger brother, before turning to acknowledge the assistant with a brief cant of his head.

He was dressed in black and splendidly tall. A tailcoat was worn over a waistcoat that was made of fine spidersilk, a soft platinum gold emblazoned the crest of the Eastern clan of the de Lylles where he hailed from. The buttons on the waistcoat were made of fine silver and from the overall fitting of his attire, it was apparent that every article had been well-tailored and made of materials fit only for the affluent. Even though he had been traveling for close to two months, there was no sign of grime and dirt on his clothing, indeed, the traveling cape that had been slightly soiled from his travels had been shed and taken away with the rest of his belongings by retainers to reveal his impeccable suit underneath. All in all, the Lord Advisor appeared ready to be received by the Lady Governor.

This would not be a long stay, and he longed to be back in Prime where he would be observing the efficiency of his new Ministry and how the Enclaves were taking form. Still, it was not to say that Roscarnis de Lylles was not looking forward to this meeting -- if anything, he was keenly curious in meeting the daughter of the Andares clan, and having already interacted with both her brothers, had formed certain preconceptions and opinions of Tiyribi Andares even without having met her.

It would be interesting to see if the Lady Governor of Centripax was anything like her brothers.
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Old August 29, 2010, 01:21 AM   #8 (permalink)

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28th Optia, In the season of Spring.

Church bells in the distance, breaking the otherwise silent brightening throughout. The sky had been as gray as the soul of the sullen Esh'lahier who now walked through the streets of Centripax. He wore Legionarre armor, shined to prefection for hours on end, although only the first candlemark had been necessary. He went now, with a folded flag of Aelyria, creased and as well kept as the rest of his person, with sorrowful footsteps. On his mind were many things, a great deal had changed in the world of late.

Tiyribi might have known him, this esh'lahier with the bloodshot eyes of one who had cried recently. The mournful figure had been seen many times about with Archalen, and was his trusted aide and bodyguard to most. Iternus Malamar, however, shared a bond with the Andares kinsman that ran deeper then that however. A bond that had lasted a lifetime.

Until recently.

He walked with precision, each step sure yet somehow slowed. He made his way to the Office of the Governor, mindful and still unsure of what he would say exactly. It didn't matter that he'd not been ordered to do this. What good were orders anymore? It didn't matter that he had paid for this trip out of his own pocket. Didn't even matter if he didn't have to be here. This was a matter of honor. Of Respect. Of tying up loose ends and letting Telath know that a sad day had passed. Telath, in Iternus' thoughts, would never be the same.

He would wait as long as it took. Should the Governor be busy, he would wait. If it took brightening of waiting, he would remain, in the same spot ever waiting. His face held no smile, no cheerful demeanor as he had shared many a brightening with Archalen. This was something different.

It wouldn't take much to figure it out. The secretive reasons for Archalens departure, the destination of Sheria known to her. Of a crisply dressed Legionnaire bearing a flag. For Feths sake, it could have been a chapter from a book, so utterly obvious it all was. Her fears, should she harbor them beneath a strong facade, would be confirmed.

"Your Excellency, I regret to inform you that his Lordship, Archalen Andares, Former Deputy of Royal Intelligence and Security, has....passed to Ioannes in the line of service."
The legionnaire would likely be in worse shape then she, his voice cracking and choking under the barely contained weight of a sorrow that the former military man just simply wouldn't know how to handle. "I'm.....I'm sorry" he said apologetically, although the tone of that sentence would suggest only half the meaning was meant for her, the other perhaps something personal from himself.

She could keep the flag, if she accepted. It didn't matter. The folded flag, sacred banner of Aelyria, meant nothing anymore. Nothing did, and it wouldn't, for as long as the grief and sorrow constricted the former friend of Archalen.

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Old August 29, 2010, 01:44 PM   #9 (permalink)
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Old August 29, 2010, 02:08 PM   #10 (permalink)
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Archalen Andares:

There was no cold breath carried on the wind; there was no hint of events about to unfold humming in distant echoes. There had been no warning given to hint at the magnitude of events that had unfolded just previously and were now coming to bear here miles away. Tragedy, it seemed, was not kind, and came with no fanfare or vanguard, but instead wreaked what destruction it might and then ran quickly off to find the newest victim to fall under its sway.

Death, they said, was always easier to ignore when it was merely a statistic rather than a face.

The appearance of another Esh’lahier in the halls of the Concordia Incola was strange, but not enough to garner more than a few piqued eyebrows and sparked curiosities. The governor herself had been installed in office for quite some time; while the citizenry of Primus Gaudeo and Centripax at large would probably never be comfortable with a pale elf playing leader over them, they were, at least, growing accustomed to her pallid white presence and anticipated that it would be far from the last. There was something to say for tolerance that familiarity and habit could build with enough time.

Whispers of the elfin visitor had slowly resounded toward the governor’s ear, but she hadn’t heeded them right away; the occupations of the brightening had been too much to grant immediate audience. There seemed to be no pressing emergency or severe need. It could wait until a more convenient time as she was, for all intents and purposes, a busy woman…

…maybe too busy. And maybe that had been her fault all along.

It was mid-afternoon before the Eshl’ahier was ushered into the lady governor’s inner sanctum of offices. A young human maid of no more than thirty ordinances pointed him toward a seat and offered to take what outer garments he cared to shed. Another human – this one male and well into the tail-end of the middle eras of his life – stood just to the side of the desk with two stacks of papers in either hand. One was growing steadily the longer Tiyribi wrote and signed; the other was decreasing in size and volume, indicating a dearly-held hope that the brightening’s demands would soon be at an end.

Violet eyes rolled up from the surface of her desk as the male elf entered. Her hands finished one last swirl of her signature and, passing the paper toward the human, set quill down while rising her own form up in one swift, graceful motion. Her hands folded themselves docilely before her waist as she inclined her head down, offering a small, polite nod as her note of welcome.

Whatever other words she could have said, whatever other well-practiced greeting she had versed and prepared, and whatever thoughts or curiosity she might have acquired at being faced with another of her own kind died the moment he began to speak.

Her face registered clear and unadulterated shock. The thin veneer of apathetic politician slipped off the pale features like a discarded veil, tumbling uncontrollably to the ground. She visibly, physically flinched. Then, in another snap of a moment, Tiyribi regained what shards remained of her composure as she became pointedly aware of the still-lingering presence of her staff. Not sparing them a single look but rather with gaze firmly locked on the messenger’s own, the elf stated flatly, “Leave us,” with an air of stringent authority that had rarely been heard from the more typically demure elf.

The door slid shut. The bolt found its home. The pair of elfs – one bearer of heavy tidings and the other its uneasy recipient – was finally left alone.

“In the line of service,” she repeated, slowly and deliberately, with the utmost control over every sound that dared escape her lips. Her tone was almost painfully quiet. Her hands clenched more tightly together, twisting until their very knuckles turned bloodless under the pressure. Still, Tiyribi never dropped the legionnaire’s gaze; she wouldn’t. Right now, it was her only anchor. “Archalen.” He was the brother she barely knew, the younger sibling brought out of the obscurity of their father’s notorious womanizing to become what they had all expected another piece of the puzzle they were quickly building.

But now, if the report was to believed, he was gone.

Gone.

Gods. Archalen was dead.

She bit tightly onto her lower lip – a reminiscent fiber of a habit she had yet to break. The next inhalation of breath sounded closer to whistling than silence, being pulled mercilessly through thinned, tightened lips. Her posture had grown more rigid and her face tighter, as every single muscle, nerve, and tendon in her entire form had frozen into an image of tension – a picture that, for now, would have to suffice in replacement for actual strength of mind and heart.

Archalen was dead.

She exhaled now, still too loudly.

“Tell me.” That same authoritative, steely tone returned that Tiyribi had previously employed on her own staff – hard and brooking no argument or discussion, and certainly no disention. There was something else glinting in the depth of her notoriously colored eyes now, something that only those most familiar with the lady elf would have recalled. “Tell me everything you know.”
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Old August 31, 2010, 01:16 AM   #11 (permalink)

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The thin sheen of sweat formed upon Malamers face was static, a constant transparent mask that had formed about his rigid features as he waited for the Governor. Evidence of his troubled mind. Death had occurred, that final and ending terminal condition, of what some optimist said was a 'new beginning'. But...it wasn't really a beginning was it? Unless, in the tired eyes of Iternus, it was the beginning of a life without his friend, without a trusted and valued peer. No, it was no beginning. There was no justice to use such a useless poetically cosmetic phrase.

He had not ride all this way to start a beginning. He had come, to bid the memory of his friend to his family. To inform them of the gravity of what had passed. He had came to bid the last of the Andares, farewell.


And what words could one possible speak that would say all that would need to be said? What phrase, no, what song would need to be sung to say to one's family 'Your brother, at 125 ordinations, has died, and you will not see him ever more"? It was beyond tragedy, the greatest of the writers in Telath would have been hard pressed to capture but a shard of the emotion present in the air here. How anyone ever thought that such miniscule and trival things as words could express the very core of what had happened on a nameless darkened street in Taralon nights past. Words would never come close. No spoken word held that much power, that much reverence. Words could not bring back absent friends.

He watched her now. The inside of his dull crimson eyes wet with the barely contained tears which had managed to creep up despite his best attempt at public fortitude. He felt for her, but did not imagine he could compete. Iternus knew a good deal of the Andares, by association over the era's, and knew full well the legacy of the House. Of what they worked towards, not for their own personal gain but for that of all esh'lahiers. That was what Archalen had told him. The house was well known to their kind, and the passing of Archalen of House Andares was a blow not only to friends, family, and acquaintances, but to all those whose skin was white and ears double tipped. So then, the esh'lahier world mourned then.

It was a very dangerous thing however, to describe what exactly had happened during the chaos of Archalens final night. Iternus was a former military man by experience, and knew no good way to inform the powerful governor that he thought the Prince's own roseman to have shot down the elf. "It.....it is a complicated thing your Excellency..." he said, stammering a bit as he looked away from her as his eyes began to well up again in memory. "A very dangerous thing..." he said now, in quieter tones. He could not however, deny her request. It was what he came here for. to tell the world of what happened. Taking a deep breath, and holding onto it for eternity before releasing it, Iternus looked back into the depths of Tiyribi's eyes.

He could see the family resemblance now, faint as it was. It was in those eyes, he had seen that emotion present before, on another face.

A face that was no longer capable of such things.


"I....I was not with him all that darkening..." he started, finding it easier to use a simple pronoun rather then a name. "but there was a lot of fighting. Royal versus Royal. Imperial vs. Imperial. The whole situation was messed up. Lots died before the fighting.......was over." "But it did stop eventually....soon as the Prince's airship landed in the square. I saw Arch......Lord Andares, before he went in. He wasn't happy, wouldn't let down the dead body he was carrying. Said something about treachery. I think the work down there...you know, changed him, at least in the end. He went on board the airship and then I didn't see him until he was running. He was running so fast you know? Running like they were trying to kill him..." he said, having to pause to swallow the buildup of saliva in his mouth before continuing.

Iternus's eyes had that faraway look in them. He wasn't here in this room anymore, no. He was back during that night. Watching Archalen through the assembled crowd around the Hannah as the Roseman assailed him with mace, sword, and fist. He was watch Archalen duck, run, and jump to escape the peremiter, as Roseman gathered in a swarm of armor and a sea of steel about him.


"The Proconsul..I think it was, tripped him as he was trying to run away. Then the Rosemen, swung and stabbed at him. But still he ran....he just...kept running. He was making good progress too. Suddenly Iternus' fist violent snapped shut. "And they....they.....they cut him down...." Iternus said, now finally breaking into full tears before Tiyribi. "Those bastards cut him down with bolts.....one right in the neck the other in his side. But he kept running...oh gods he didn't stop...he couldn't I don't think." It was becoming obvious through the squinting and mashing up of Iternus face that it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to continue.

"And he said, right before the bolt hit him "Long Live Sacred Aelyria"
. You know? "Long Live Sacred Aelyria." I can't tell you...how many times I've heard that in my dreams...like a death cry you know? It just repeats over and over agian. He said it like he knew it...like he knew it would be the last thing he'd ever say..." Finally Iternus could say no more, as speech became impossible as the memory overcame him and reduced him to total tears. A grown ex legionnaire, crying unafraid in the office of the Governor.

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Old September 2, 2010, 11:21 PM   #12 (permalink)
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Archalen Andares:

Dead.

The word was still resounding in her brain like a pounding, incessant gong, never giving her a moment’s worth of peace. Dead. Archalen was dead. Tiyribi’s gaze was still headily locked onto Iternus’s own, staring in an absent, hardened intensity at the other elf’s slow descent into the madness induced by emotionality. In another time, at another place, she might have found such a display disgraceful and grating against every tenet and tradition of life she held dear. Now, however, Tiyribi wasn’t even aware the legionnaire was still here; she only heard the words still infinitely looping and repeating in her head.

Dead. Archalen was dead. He was forever dead. Legend and lore told that elfin souls returned to the stars upon their demise on mortal Telath, but those words meant ever so little to her now. She couldn’t get past the finality of the statement and the cold, harsh reality that it brought like so much ice to once-warm skin. How had Iternus put it…”passed to Ioannes”? She bit on her lip again. The phrase was nothing more than an empty platitude, spoken with the same hollowness as the tale of “star souls”. It didn’t mean anything when faced with the actual event.

“Complicated” didn’t begin to describe the half of it. Her eyes narrowed slightly as they still fixed Iternus in the center of their gaze, still staring with all the hardened, intense glint she could muster. It was her one last physical bond keeping her stable and standing on her feet. “Tell me,” Tiyribi repeated evenly, though not nearly with the same luster as her previous command. She was losing her nerve; it was impossible to miss in the way her voice flinched and the flickers of pinched, nervous skin stretching across her face. What limited supply of strength she had left was quickly fading away the more real the situation became with each and every passing moment.

Archalen was dead in some faraway, forgotten city, forever separated from his family, his kindred, and his people. There was something heroically tragic about the entire thing, like some grand story that a grandmother would retell to the youngest generation. Posthumous glory was, however, a very cold thing to those still left alive to mourn the passing.

And mourn she would – was, even in this present moment. She said nothing as Iternus retold the scene over again, describing the death knells of Archalen’s last conscious moments with a painted hue that would have turned a heart of stone to weeping at the sound. She couldn’t help an overwhelming feeling cascade from the pit of her stomach into her very throat, threatening to spill over at the slightest hint of dropping her guard. The true cost of the rebellion in Sherian wouldn’t be a matter of an exchange of crowns or the destruction of cities, but rather in the hollowed-out hearts left behind.

And now, she was one, in her own way.

“What fighting? Do you know what he meant by ‘treachery’?” The word slipped out with a dangerous air in its high-pitched pronunciation. She couldn’t control it. There were so many secrets and so much ignorance, and Tiyribi felt keenly just how fastened in the middle of all she was. She had heard that Archalen’s dealings had called him to Sherian, but she had never known the purpose. Of the Royal Court in Prime, the elf had only assumed that it existed and would perpetuate for the betterment of the Aelyrian Kingdom – if not for the benefit of its citizenry, then definitely for its own continued existence.

But treachery? Her eyes widened in a tell-tale fashion of the surprise brimming inside. It was almost too surreal to believe – almost. One more glance at Iternus’s tear-stained face brought the full reality crashing home once more. Tiyribi couldn’t do him, or Archalen, the injustice of disbelieving it for a moment. “Running on His Highness’s airship?” She sounded like a child now, repeating words back that made no sense in her head. Her thoughts were too muddled; she couldn’t delve to the heart of the matter in any way, and Iternus’s own fractured retelling was far from helping.

Who cut him down?” she said simply with barely enough upward inflection to indicate the questioning nature of her statement. Her tone was flat now and almost purely emotionless. The title of Proconsul she knew. The name of Rosemen she recognized. But to think that such could be tied to the demise of her younger sibling couldn’t be believed…

…at least until someone dared to say such a thing aloud and make it heard across the silent air of all the Multiverse. Such a statement would be repeated, again, and screamed from the highest hilltop – for such a sin was not ever to be forgotten, and such a wound not to be left unpaid.

But she wouldn’t say it; it couldn’t be her. No, someone else, anyone else, would need to be the first to air such a thought aloud – and until that moment, she would remain in her shroud of ignorance for what precious little time was left.

The world could be ever so bitter for those who found the haggard face hiding behind the porcelain mask.
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Old September 5, 2010, 08:10 PM   #13 (permalink)
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Two men arrived at the Governor’s offices in the Concordia Incola in early afternoon. Solemn faced men there was no denying, come straight from Aelyria Prime. Carrying in turn a most solemn message. One which they wished to pass along, not through assistants, subordinates, guardsmen or clerks. But personally from hand to hand with its intended recipient, with what words which might offered afterwards, face to face.

In this case, the two men arrived with a request to be presented to the lady Governor of Centripax, her Excellency Tiyribi Andares. Two men, a Knight of the Black Rose in formal dress. Sir Harry in this case, a strapping young human with curls of auburn sweeping round a boyish, freckled face. And with him, Master Manyc Ulairi.

The tall and wiry mage, a half elf of darkest hair and palest flesh, was dressed in robes of deepest plum with the royal crest emblazoned in gold embroidery upon his breast. Manyc’s usual expression and demeanor were both solemn ones by nature. But on this brightening, more so than usual.
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Old September 5, 2010, 09:36 PM   #14 (permalink)

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Tiyribi-Unable to continue due our thread to RL stress about OOC issues concerning recent events. My apologies.
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Old October 2, 2010, 01:52 PM   #15 (permalink)
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Continued here.
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