Just three generations, and many seemed had forgotten the nine mountains which perpetually spewed smoke, and occasionally, hot rivers of lava, had not even existed prior to The Riven War. That shattered remains of Underworld dragons and Overworld demons buried beneath the land bothered few these days, it seemed. The wealth that final year of raging and earth shattering battle had ultimately bestowed, was of far more importance under the rule of the Duke’s cousin, the second King Crespin of Ruand.
As for myself, I felt somewhat out of place in the brown robes and black cloak amongst the many brightly colored Lords, Ladies and courtiers who filled the receiving halls of the Duke’s palace. The vast hall was practically a sea of multicolored jaquets and gowns. My status, or perhaps apparent age, however, was acknowledged, and I was granted a comfortable chair with soft cushions to rest in as I waited.
This left me startled, then, when, while I waited a second hour for my turn to speak to the Duke over his words with the Margrave, I my meditation was interrupted by a gentle tug on my sleeve, and the quiet whispers of a young honey-tressed and bright eyed courtier to my ears.
“Magister, are you awake?” the girl asked, in an accent I could not immediately place.
“Yes, girl,” I said, turning to look into a young face of perhaps fifteen years. “Can you not see my eyes are open?”
Her face flushed in embarrassment.
“My apologies,” she offered with lowered eyes and a nervous lilt in her voice. “I have been sent to bring you to the chambers of the most respected collegiate fellow, Omar of Tower Blackrock.”
I will admit to a willingness to tease the young whenever the opportunity presents. The lithe young courtiere presented an opportunity I couldn’t resist. She seemed an odd choice of a servant for Omar, out of place amongst the duskier Donlanders.
“I am eighteenth in line to receive audience with the grand duke,” I told her allowing some irritation to enter my tone. And it had taken me nearly half the day to even reach that low number. “If I go with you I will have to give up my place. I might not be able to see him again before next Horn’s Day.”
Ah, the crestfallen look on her face was priceless. She clearly had no understanding, I was playing with her. But, still, I had to admire her persistence. And, I noticed something else in her bearing, a certain glow. Something that spoke of… potential. That was even odder, as she clearly didn’t reflect the aura of an apprentice. My curiosity was piqued, although I did not display it. I wanted to see how she would respond.
The girl stood up straight, looked me in the eyes, tightened her jaw.
“I have been told not to return without the great, legendary and venerable Greyslan Amberglass in my stead,” she replied after a moment, in a much more confident tone. “Your attendance, I have been assured, will more than make up for any delay in speaking with Grand Duke Nevis. I promise, my master Omar knows why you are here, and he is willing to answer the questions you have, whereas he assures the Duke is likely not.”
