Master Architect (Open)

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

The Second Cycle of the Month of Cryxatum, Season of Summer, Era II

"Now, Chelseanna's city layout is a mystery. Some say that the architect who built the town shaped it like a big riddle that no-one's managed to solve yet."

Erenthril bristled atop the rooftop.

Summer was well on its way into the season, he could feel it of course, and the temperature and humidity seemed to swell with it. Naturally, so did the number of tourists flocking to the city and the Eunesian Isles on a whole, and Eren had found he was developing a particular disdain for the odd Dianite or Mystiquian that ventured forth with their pompous attitudes and demanded directions for such-and-such or so-and-so. In fact, it had been the haughty rambunctious nature of a group of tourists – they always travelled in groups – that had spun Eren away from the main street and down a side alley. One he didn’t formerly recognize right away.

It was both odd and unsettling for the Elementalist to actually traverse down a path he’d not once plodded along before, especially in a port he’d taken painful means of ensuring as his home. Given Chelseanna had turned into a luxurious retreat and safe haven for the fraudulent actions of the Empire, the Syl’rosyian Elflord was quite content to escape to the wayward beaches and private symphonies that so highlighted his prolonged hiatus from Imperial affairs. Thus it was that, when he came across a few painted doorways and arcs he’d not fathomed coming across before, his interests rose and a most peculiar sense of foreboding had swollen up inside of him.

It was not until he rounded a corner and found himself staring back at the main street from a different vantage point than did the words of a nearby elderly man lecturing a few young men while playing some board game or another float to his ears. Something about some architect and some mystery. Hmmph.

That had been three brightenings ago.

Now, the Elf felt this strange obsession. He’d gone to bed thinking about it, and had dreamt a rather abnormal dream that he was the architect, designing the city, making it into some riddle or another. But for what reasons? He imagined he was hiding something, some untellable treasure, or that he as secreting away some pivotal piece of knowledge that time and eternity had forgotten.

Thus it was that, after a few handful of candlemarks after sunrise, Eren found himself on a rather high vantage point – not the tallest, mind you, but that could come in time – speculating about the shape of the town and wondering how many others had trekked before him in discovering the secrets that lay beneath.

[Kiarae Bentivegna]

OOC: Hope you don’t mind if I join!

Freedom…

Elated and with a sudden spring in her step, the native Celiseannian ran through the city like Jalat himself was chasing her. Her long, dark locks flew behind her as she ran, her hands grasping tightly upon the leather case that held her passion and her dreams – her violin. Thanks to her grandfather, she had finally managed to escape the clutches of her mother, and the Agora Bioli. She weaved in and out of the early dawn workers, offering a bright smile and wave to those she knew, and trying to not scorn at the overly dressed tourists that amassed and blocked her path. Though it mattered not, Kiarae knew these streets like the lines on her palm. She weaved in and out of the alleys, passed many faux doors, until finally she came to the base of a rise where she often sat and practised her beloved instrument.

Though panting slightly and her face flushed, the young woman climbed to the crest of the hill. Yet she was sorely disappointed to see someone had already bet her to her early morning destination. “Stupido turista,” the girl muttered in a whisper under her breath. It seemed even here there was no escaping the foreigners that seemed to flood every open space of the city. They were like rats, but rich rats, and therefore you had to be nice to them…

It was only getting worse as the summer progressed… yet… he was an elf! For a moment the complete black irises of her eyes stared. Kiarae had not had many dealings with the race; Celsianna didn’t seem to typically be a ‘destination of choice’, but she had heard a few things about them. Her Papa said they were as tricky as her Nonna, and lived many Era, so by looking at them you could not tell how many moons and suns had passed over them. He had warned her to stay away from them if she ever encountered one, that she could get bewitched by their magic. It didn’t make the young woman weary though, if anything it made her intensely curious.

There was no way everything her Papa had said was true; plus, no one was as tricky as her Nonna…

Nevertheless where there was a tourist, there was crowns to be made, and curling her lips from a frown to a smile, mayhap there was help he needed that only she could offer. “Serale,” she said in her light, lilting tone that had the gentle twang of the Celsiannian.

[Tarot]

The light of the suns streamed through a few layers of clouds, though it was unlikely that this brightening would be a wet one. While the weather was subject to rather sudden changes on Celsianna depending on influences from the warmer air currents from the ocean and the colder ones originating in Carmelyn, the monsoons had yet to hit with full force. Later in the season, rainstorms would become more of a possibility - even the occasional typhoon. Right now however, the weather was a tourist's boon.

And so it was that Erenthril and Kiarae found themselves on the same hilltop, an interesting vantage second only to the Thanal tower itself for an aerial view of the small port. The settlement had no walls, but occupied a roughly triangular area; one side faced the sea and comprised the Porto and the Cancello del Passeggero, the docks, warehouses and the various sea-related businesses. It then continued and became untainted beaches, the sand not as fine and white as that of Ieffreon, but fascinating in its roughness. West of the Port were the Kountouras fields, with the towering shape of Hotel Magnifico standing as the largest building on the island after Castle Chelseanna itself, though neither surpassed the height of the Thanal Tower.

The other two sides of the settlement formed a wedge pointing towards the interior of the island. The outskirts sat on slightly more elevated terrain, closer to the sides of Mount Tuli. Piazza del Mare occupied more or less the middle of the hypothetical triangle. There were other, much smaller towers in Port Chelseanna; Kiarae would know that each had been built by a different noble family as a display of their wealth and influence - some say they had had a different purpose, however. In fact, those noble families for the most part no longer existed - their mansions in the interior of the island now abandoned and claimed by Nature. The towers, on the other hand, were now maintained by the Pro Loco, Celsianna's influential Tourism Board headed by the Podesta.

The residential district, called the Plata, rested closer to the inland than the Port. Two buildings occupied the opposite ends of the quarter; on the one hand, the Conservatorio. On the other, Delot's Fencing Academy. The former shaped like two musical notes when viewed from above; the latter standing tall and unmistakenly sword-shaped.

It was a lazy brightening, and people could be seen in the streets. Loud tourists, flamboyant musicians, street artists, the painter without hands drawing portraits with his mouth in Piazza del Mare. Someone had signed up for a speech at the Speaker's Podium (something anyone could do - remarkably enough, it was possibly the only free service offered in Port Chelseanna). The man's voice now echoed throughout the Piazza and beyond, carried by the incredible acoustics of the town. There was nothing magical about it, merely ingenious city and building planning. And now, such ingenious planning was being used to carry an incredibly sloppy speech on the importance of family in these troubled times, reminiscing on when 'young people used to be polite to their elders'.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

The trouble with riddles, was there had to be an initial question.

And as the wandering almond-shaped eyes of the Elf roved from building to building, tower to tower, he could not, for the life of him, unravel this question. The city layout was a riddle… yes… but what aspect of it needed to be solved? Where should he begin? What was the centerpiece, the cornerstone, of which he should start?

It was frustrating, almost painfully so, given how often the Syl’rosyian Elf – a Master Elementalist, no less – encountered problems and hurled his mind over the barriers and obstacles it presented to itself, and yet this rumor, this clue, had him completely stumped. He’d picked this spot because it was high and it was plausible, the vantage point was more than decent, and it was unlikely he could sweet-talk his way into the thanal tower and survey the domain of the small five-hundred plus lives of the civilians beneath him. Sure, he could fly, but that in itself drew unnecessary attention… and besides, he preferred to solve it by conventional means.

Erenthril tore his attention away from the incredibly dull and boring speech – though he’d heard worse in the crevices of the Imperial Palace, what with the nonsensical dictations and audiences Milo had to put up with in regards to the most mundane rudimentary obsolete trivialities man could produce – at the sound of the young feminine voice behind him. His gaze fell across a young woman, holding what could only be a violin (or was that a viola?) which enabled him to deduce he’d encountered one out of the precious five hundred native souls inhabiting the small port. A soft smile broke across his lips as he returned her greeting with a nod of his head, “Serale.”

Pleasant enough in his books, the Elementalist then turned back around and returned his attention back to the layout of the city, eyes groping for clues. The girl probably couldn’t help him anyways. He really wish he’d heard more of the old man’s rumormongering. Where was he to start? Was it a tower? What was so perplexing about the layout of the buildings?

From his vantage point, Eren tried to see if there was any obvious pattern between the looming towers and the other taller buildings around them. He used the plaza as a centerpiece in this plan, given it was the center of the town’s culture, and thus, perhaps, the centerpiece of the riddle as well.

[Kiarae Bentivegna]

For a moment Kiarae stood with her mouth open a little, aghast at the fact that all that fell from his elven lips was a polite greeting in tern. It was unexpected, and generally unlike the needy and often forthright foreigners that came and went on this island that was her home. Maybe it was an elven thing. However, she could not help but turn her head to where his intense emerald gaze fell upon the city. What was is from Celsianna that gleaned so much attention from this dark haired stranger? What was it that he wanted? It was these thoughts that had been drilled in her since she could talk and walk. If those two questions could be answered, then your purse would be lined in crowns. Yet that reasoning was not why such thoughts entered the mind of the young woman. No, what drove Kiarae to ask such questions were curiosity. She was curious as to what he wanted from this island… from this city.

‘La curiosità ha ucciso il gatto’ Nonna had always said. A small grin tugged at the end of Kiarae thin lips. Curiosity may kill the cat, but lucky for this native Celsiannian she was more bird then cat.

“You seem engrossed in the city, Signore,” the young woman said quietly, her own dark eyes passing over the layout of her home. “Trying to solve the enigma wrapped in a riddle?” her accent was touched with amusement, which by some could be construed as mocking. She had heard some of the older natives speak of the riddle of Celsianna, though Kiarae thought it was a load of ‘lavata dei maiali’, hogs wash. Yet Erenthril wouldn’t be the first turista to try and solve the ancient riddle of the city, and Kiarae was not the first local to ponder taking advantage of the desire to solve the unsolvable.

Moving a step closer to look over the city from his vantage point, Kiarae spoke again, this time a little quieter. “There are two cities; the city of truth, and the city of lies. You are trying to make your way to the city of truth, but you’re stuck in between the city of truth, and the city of lies. You do not know which is which,” she paused, flashing a bright grin towards the elf, the light of the sun showing sparkles of bright, blue sapphire in the depths of her seemingly black eyes. “You see a man come out of one of the cities and you can ask him one question that will tell you where the city of truth is. What would that one question be?”

An old Celsiannian riddle, tied with the riddle of the city, tied with the faux doors and the alleys that lead to nowhere... Nevertheless, the young violinist got the feeling that this elf did not wish for her help, and so after waiting a brief moment, Kiarae turned to return to the city. If he wanted her help, he would answer, and if he didn’t – well, the point of today was to spend some time with her beloved instrument after all, not to fulfil her curiosity by helping a pointy eared stranger.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

He stared at the city, eyes roving, darting from tower to tower. He was growing a little frustrated with himself; there was nothing he could do here. The plaza would not help him. The jutting structure of the Thanal Palace would not help him. Not even the sharp bladed Fencing Academy or the oddly shaped musical university would assist him. He had nowhere to start, nowhere to begin, and without those two key elements, he had no riddle. It was foolish of him to have even made the trek up the hill.

The girl’s words floated up to his ears, and he turned around and surveyed her from head to toe for a moment, slightly perplexed but absorbing the situation for what it was. “That I do,” he spoke slowly, wondering what the woman’s aims were. He looked like a tourist. He knew he looked like a tourist. It was his job to point out the irregularities, and the fact he was a walking contrast to the faux native environment the small port stood for was as clear as day upon him. Thus, her vested interest in him seemed somewhat… odd, in and of itself. There was a small spark in his eyes and the ever slowly spreading thin smile atop his lips, however, when she drove straight to the point of the subject and labeled him out for what he was: an idiot, trapped in what could just as easily be a faux myth. He was a sucker for stories, though, and given he had a good decent eight or nine centuries left in him, well… he sure as hell wasn’t short on time, that was for sure.

“Hmmm…” he thought for a moment. Riddles were so damn confusing, at times, and infallibly more complicated than Arcana. The fact he had a fear in getting the answer wrong added to the worrisome sensation, though eventually he derived an answer that he thought… no, felt… would be correct. “I would ask that man whether or not he had just left the City of Lies,” he shrugged. In his logic, it made sense, though whether or not it was what she was looking for was another story entirely.

“The name’s Eren,” he smiled politely, holding out his hand to her.

[Kiarae Bentivegna]

“Kiarae,” the young women said as she shifted her violin case in order to take his hand, holding it firmly in her own. “Kairae Bentivegna,”

Her black irises scanned the quick smile that came easily to his lips, and could not help but smile back – surprisingly, with sincerity. He seemed… well… harmless enough, there was no way her father could be completely right about the trickster elves. Nevertheless, Kairae reminded herself to stay on her guard. Elf yes, but turista as well. Also she had to be careful to not be beguiled by those dancing green eyes. A soft blush came across her face, and she released his hand. He was not handsome in the classic sense, like she would describe some of the men that often smiled at her down at the docks; but he certainly was beautiful… and beautiful was a strange word to describe a man. Were all his race so stunning?

She realised she was staring, and let a soft laugh escape her lips. “Sì Signore, Eren,” as he answered the riddle most aptly. “Asking which city the man came from is certainly the best way to discover if he is of truth or of lies,” she glanced back down towards the city, scanning over the towers, the plata, her home. “And what do you think Celsianna is?” her lilting voice touched with jest. “Is it the city of truth, or the city of lies?”

In her own mind Kairae believed it was a little of both, though whether or not the riddle was true or a myth, that was a different question all together. “If you would like help with your riddle, signore, I can certainly offer my services,”… for a price. She knew she didn’t need to say the last three words. “But to unlock a riddle, first you must find the key,” she grinned, her eyes focussing on the noble towers of old, and not on the elven lord.

“And if you were a riddle keeper, where would you hide your key?” she spoke the last words quietly, tying to discern anything from the view they had of the city. Yet nothing seemed to fit. Then again, it couldn’t be as easy as just looking at the city from above; if that was the case, someone would have already solved the puzzle. That is… if the puzzle even existed!

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Kiarae,” he offered a polite yet curt nod before releasing her hand gently, his own retreating into the right pocket of his trousers, thumb left sticking out. His eyes studied hers for only a moment, even as his left hand tucked back a few errant chocolate tresses behind his ear, before releasing her from his gaze and returning it back to the freedom of the city. Her words brought some amusement to his stern frustration, and prompted a response stemmed from alacrity rather than a begrudging futility.

“Most definitely the city of lies, I’m afraid. I’ve never seen a people more fascinated with faux entryways or beguiling scenery,” he confessed, tossing a glance in her direction. The violin, the dress… it was painfully obvious she was from around here, and it provoked a genuine curiosity from the Elflord. “I suppose there’s probably a story behind that… maybe?” he asked, wondering if the hint would elicit a response, but perhaps not. If the Chelseannan people were as secretive as their port town was, then the Elementalist would not have been too surprised if Kiarae merely offered a nod or simple shrug of her shoulders to his prompting.

“But no, Arwenenamin, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have the slightest idea where the key is. If I was an architect, and I was planning the blueprint of a city, I would have created a legend of sorts to keep track of things. Like the key on a map, perhaps,” he frowned, visibly at a lost. There wouldn’t be a physical key, of course, that would have been pointless. There might not have been a key at all. But so long as the subject revolved around layouts, and cities and blueprints, then perhaps Erenthril’s first instinct might not actually be far off regardless.

[Kiarae Bentivegna]

Kiarae watched him out of the corner of her eye as he spoke, a cheeky and mischievous grin playing on her thin lips. Though as Erenthril expected, the woman said nothing and offered a mere shrug of her shoulders to his questions of the secrecy and mystery that was the city. It just was the way the Celsiannian’s were, and would always be and the young violinist would reveal no more and no less then was necessary.

“You do make a good point,” she finally said as he finished speaking, a small flush passing over her cheeks as elvish words rolled off his tongue. She had no idea what it meant of course, but it sounded beautiful, almost musical. A ballad in his spoken tongue may almost be as beautiful as some of the old Celsiannian verses. But distracted again, Kiarae laughed inwardly and continued to speak. “And if I was an architect of a city such as this I would do the same thing… so I think I may know where we can start to look for answers to the enigma, if,” she paused. “It even exists in this city of lies,”

There was one place that may have the answers, though it was unlikely that Erenthril would ever get them without her. Not that Kiarae was arrogant, or bragging, but the secrets of the city were not something oft given to foreigners, let alone elves, even if they did have dreamy eyes the colour of spring leaves. Then again, even if Kiarae could get some answers, it would still be at a cost. Everything was at a cost in Celsianna. “Have you managed to enchant yourself with the information at the Heraldic Museum?” she asked with a sideways grin. “Though I doubt you would get much information if you went on a tour on your own, with my help, I am sure we can come to some arrangement. For if the architect was a true Celsiannian, as I am sure he was, he should be documented somewhere. And in this city,” she paused, her black eyes dancing with mischief. “A lot can be said in the name and heritage of a person,”

It may be a starting point at least…

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

Eren shook his head, stroking his chin deftly while he was at it and pausing to contemplate her words. She seemed to know a lot about the city, particularly its history, and she wasn’t a bad little riddlemaster herself when everything summed up. Valuable? Yes. Costly? Most likely. The Elflord frowned for a bit, eyes drifting to the side and giving her a cursory glance before he finally looked up and nodded slowly. Almost imperceptibly.

“No, I can’t say that I have. Would you like to lead the way?” he offered a pleasant smile and shrugged his shoulders. Chances were he could maybe scrounge up some directions on his own, but the truth of the matter was he enjoyed her company, and was actually having a delightful time partaking in this puzzle with another person at his side.

[Kiarae Bentivegna]

Well there goes the violin practise; but never mind. In truth, the young woman found the thought of doing something other than music or peddling rather enticing, and this wasn’t the first of such occurrences. It seemed the winds of faith were certainly blowing in her direction at this time. Plus, Kiarae wanted to get to know more about this elf, or rather elves in general. With the request of Gianni Verbozza still tingling in the back of her mind, she realised how naïve and inexperienced she was with the ways and means of the races and people outside of Eunesia. Maybe there would be more than just crowns that she could garner from this beautiful man. Only time would tell.

“Follow me buon signore,” she said over dramatically, sweeping her bright green and blue dress in a very low curtsy. There was a sparkle of jest in her eye and a soft smile on her lips as she stood, hoisting the violin over her shoulder and heading back towards the city.

Like all true Celsiannian’s, Kiarae and her family of the Bentivegna’s all knew the importance of history, heraldry and the honor in family. Her own family crest was emblazoned on the skin of every male that had been born past and preset when they turned eighteen ordinations. This was typical, and it meant that the building she was taking Erenthril did have significance for the populace of this island, and for her. It also made sense that if the architect of this fair city had indeed been a true blooded Celsiannian, then there would be something to learn of him at the Heraldic Museum. Leading on, Kiarae took Erenthril through the alleys and pathways of the city. Like a well trained mouse, the dark haired violinist knew the maze of the city like any true native did. Every so often she cast her eyes back to meet the bright emerald of his, a flush passing over her tanned skin. She didn’t speak much as they walked, lost in her own thoughts and plans for the future as Ambasciatore per Celsiannia, not to mention to scholarship for the Conservatario! Nevertheless the walk did not take long, and after missing many dead ends, and passing many faux doors later, the pair reached the three-storey limestone building that was home to the history of names, families and of the island itself.

“Welcome to the Duchess of Celsianna’s Heraldic Museum, Singore Erenthril,”

Striding over to the booth manned by a bright faced Halfling, Kiarae smiled with a single glance back to Erenthril. “Two please, that’s twenty crowns?” she said, dark eyes smiling mischievously at the elf. She did not remove her purse from her pocket, and her glance to the elven lord was more than obvious. Expenses were always covered by the client in this city.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

Eren’s eyes danced following the dramatic sweep of her dress and the low yet overly courteous curtsey. “Very well then, lead the way Kiarae,” he smiled softly, the elven lilt of his voice nearly rhyming the last two words together as he took one last final look at the city. Emerald green eyes swept over the peaks of towers and slanted roofs of houses and shops, surveying the horizon, searching for perhaps one last token of information hidden away through their existence.

Nothing.

Falling in step behind her as she led him through the maze of faux doors and fake archways, Erenthril marveled at house she navigated them through the small port town built to host ten thousand and the twisting alleyways he found himself embarking on. “How long have you played the violin?” he asked out of innate curiosity, seeking to make for idle conversation as they walked, his hands shuffled away neatly into the pockets of his trousers as he grew bored of listening to the repetitious clicks of his black leather heels striking the occasional cobblestone.

When they arrived at the museum, Eren hung back a moment and glanced over the building, committing it and the others around it to memory should he need to come back. His eyes scanned over the loopy scrawled text of the sign denoting it for what it was, and as the girl bustled in without a second thought, the Syl’rosyian Elflord was very much reminded of his collegio studies back in Medonia. It had been a long time since he’d propped open a history book.

Offering a thin smile at her more-than-obvious hint towards who’d be paying for this attraction, Eren’s hand dipped into his pocket and he retrieved the crowns, sliding them over the counter to the Halfling. Turning to Kiarae, he scrutinized her face for a moment, almost reading between the lines as he asked, “Do you know where we should begin looking for clues, or should I ask him?” It was a low whisper, meant for her only, and accompanied by a casual head jerk towards the clerk behind the booth.

[Tarot]

Unfortunately, just as they were about to enter the Museum, Kiarae was spotted by her brother who happened to be there by a random coincidence. Such were the misfortunes of living in a little town... skipping one's duties was a little bit more difficult. As it was, Kiarae was literally dragged away to help in her family's shoppe, thus leaving Erenthril alone in the museum.

And there was little left for him to do but enter, a soft feminine voice coming from the very first room. If he chose to investigate, Erenthril would find himself in a room dotted with many exhibits of all kinds, but with one common feature - they were all decorated with a coat of arms. These symbols seemed to be the rage in Chelseanna; everybody had one (if not more) and never failed to show it in any possible way, be it embroidered on their handkerchiefs or painted on their plates in bright enamel tints.

A pretty, dark-haired woman with typical Chelseannan features was addressing a small crowd of tourists in front of an elaborate shield carrying a coat of arms with three swords on a golden field, with a red fess running diagonally and decorated with five golden stars. "... and we are finally back to the beginning. As mentioned, this is the Vidocai family's armorial design. You can tell their Kaldiran origin, just like with the Doni's and Kalpas, by the lack of waves and dolphins that are nearly ubiquitous on the coats of the native Eunesian families such as the Konstaninous."

The woman smiled at the audience. "And this concludes our guided tour. I hope it was an interesting one, and do remember we are open for special visits after pracenda on Lunarias!" A couple Dwarven tourists made some really dumb questions that Erenthril could have answered without even visiting the museum, and then the crowd began to disperse.