She had never seen such vibrant hues, smelt such rich spices and tasted such sweet fruit. Not before they had entered Ianor's grand marketplace.
The guards had been notified in advance, and they were now escorting The Prince and Faith to Lord Syel's Keep, which she could make out just beyond the high metal gates, at the far end of the marketplace. From here, it already looked magnificent.
She had to admit, the Elven guards were quite…beautiful to look at. Their faces, angular and showing no emotion. Their cheekbones and nose bridges, high set and their almost translucent green eyes—what a sight! They wore the sigil of Lord Syel—a fierce golden dragon—upon their deep green armour, plated with copper.
She also seemed to acknowledge the fact that they only seemed to respond to Arechin's questions. She supposed that such respect was expected, given that this clan was the Empire's oldest eleven ally.
But he did not ask them the important questions, like: From where did such fluid silk come from? From where did they acquire such lovely paints? And the chocolates, they were—
"Faith." Arechin ground out, almost if it had cost him his entire dignity to say her name.
"Yes, Arechin?" She said sweetly, blinking several times.
He scoffed. No more of that Your Highness bullshit. Not after last night. He was mad at her, and she even more.
"I expect you to be at your best behaviour when we arrive at Lord Syel's residence." He continued, "You must understand that their alliance is most important to Eltarin."
Now it was her turn to scoff in disbelief. What an unbelievable bastard. It took everything in her to not stick out her tongue at him, and maybe a very inappropriate gesture of her middle finger as well was considered.
"Oh, then I'm afraid you must assign me a guard." He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Forgive me if I go around kicking some pots, and throw some profanity while I'm at it too."
His lips twitched, giving way to a hint of a smile.
"Kicking pots, my sweet?" He clicks his tongue.
My sweet. She blushed, wishing she were covering her face with one of those veils they were selling at those textile stalls. She guessed this was just another way for Arechin to irk her. She drew in a steadying breath, as the gates before her opened to give way to a beautiful landscape of lush gardens and fountains. The stone towers rose up all around her, spiralling into beautifully designed domes. There never seemed to be enough greenery here. Creepers and vines everywhere, and rare flowers grew here casually.
This was exactly the type of castle she'd read about in one of Abraham's novels. One of those few novels he had owned about magic and romance and happy ending.
Plenty of pots to kick around. She thought to herself, as they rode into the Residence.
────────────
They were brought before Lord Syel at once, who seemed to be in the middle of Court. She didn't know what she expected, perhaps an old man crippled with age but wise with his tongue. Maybe one of those slimy old nobles she saw at Eltarin's Court. Maybe a man that looked as if he had at least slightly greyed with age.
But he was nothing short of bewitching. He was tall, she could tell even when he was sprawled across his diwan, eating some sort of delicious-looking fruit, the juice trickling down his fingers. His long dirty blonde hair was half braided, and half loose. His eyes—the lightest shade of forest green. His face, like others of his court, was angular and sharp. He wore an intricate green doublet that was well fitted to his immaculate form.
This was old Lord Syel.
All the intensity in his face shifted when his eyes found Arechin. He jumped up from the diwan, a bright smile taking over his features. He held out his arms,
"Arechin! My boy!" Arechin. Oh, they were clearly very personally acquainted. "I've been waiting for you. How wonderful seeing you again. And who is that beautiful lady you have brought along with you?"
The entire court has gone still around us.
I've been waiting for you.
But Arechin was smiling, grinning even as he strode across the room. The Courtroom was a manifestation of stone worn with age, with thin streams of water trickling in channels across the floor, and following the general theme, vines and creepers were everywhere. Several columns rose to touch the ceiling, with carvings of common folklore. Cushions and Diwans also decorated the room, with plenty of room to seat the attendees.
She followed Arechin up the dais, until he was wrapped in the Elven Lord's strong embrace. Well, this was awkward for her. She could feel the eyes of the several elves upon her, sizing her up. She spared a glance at the people of Ianor—she found them quite interesting to look at, just as she found all the elves. She spotted dwarfs, a group of beautiful females, their skins tinted in various shades of green and pink, a group of tall young men dressed in their finery. And all with those fascinating pointed ears.
"And who must you be?" She startled, realising that they had pulled apart from the embrace. She looked once at Arechin, who nodded at her.
She bowed deeply, the way all soldiers did. "I'm Faith Reaper, sworn warrior to Eltarin's Crown." She said, rising.
"Ah." He paused. It was a long pause. She blinked, in confusion. She struggled to see through her lowered eyes, but she saw his eyes soften and she could not help but wonder why. "You are Abraham Reaper's young one, are you not? Look at me, my dear." She slowly raised her eyes to meet his, and she nodded.
Once.Twice.
He crossed his arms behind his back and smiled, "Very well." He said. She realised he smiled too much for his own good. "I cannot express how pleased I am to finally meet you." She frowned. Finally meet you.
She spared a glance at Arechin, but he showed no emotion. He wasn't even looking at her. He wasn't saying anything, and maybe it was because of what had transpired between them last night, but she was quite irked today. And he wasn't pressing for answers from Lord Syel. But time was pressing on them, and they had no idea of knowing when the next attack would be and if—
She inhaled sharply. "We stand in your presence here, hoping that you might tell us about The Realm Sword, Oriph's Seventh Device of Destruction." She said it out loud now, and Arechin's eyes were on her immediately, as if he weren't expecting her to speak to Lord Syel at all. "My Lord, I am sure you have heard of the events that had transpired in the Capital, the night of the Lighting. We had barely managed to contain that problem, but it was a meager effort. We do not know how much longer we can push on without a solution. We have already lost our beloved Princess Serria and—"
"Faith." Arechin said, sharply as if asking her to shut her mouth. "I did not permit you to speak."
Oh now she really wanted to punch him, to dismantle his perfect face.
But Lord Syel simply nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line of smile. "Yes, I'm sure." He said, "But all things of business cannot be discussed before dinner, I'm afraid. It is simply poor manners on behalf of the host."
Dinner? Poor manners? She wanted to yell. Yell that they were in the middle of a war with demons, and her best friend was dead. Dead. And they'd be dead soon too. They could not wait for dinners and perfect times and good manners. No, no they could not.
As if sensing her panicked thoughts, Arechin laced his arm around hers, startling her the second time today.
"It's alright. Just quiet down." He whispered subtly. And then louder, he said, "I'll show her around the Keep in the meantime."
Syel clasped his hands, "That would be wonderful!" He exclaimed, "I'll be sure to send a servant to show you to your rooms. Now please, go. Relax yourselves, you must have had a tiring journey."
Arechin nodded, leading them out of the Courtroom.