8.1 High Magic

General Summary

Day 76

Before we leave Brighton (good riddance) I make a point of introducing Bran to the dwarven craftsman who made my gauntlet. His name is Elb, and the two of them nearly need to be pried apart when it is finally time to depart. I’m sure it won’t hurt in the future to have a dwarven friend. We can have a round eared maker of things and a short maker of things.   The countryside surrounding Brighton is unusual for a few reasons. First is the abundant slave labour, which is no less distasteful than it was a few days prior. Second is the absolute lack of villages. The surrounding area is bereft of the usual hamlets and settlements that would surround a large city.   As we ride along the river, Hella uses the nearby water to work on replicating the ice prison that Kadia made. She is more successful at it when wielding the fae sword as a wand, strange as it looks.  

Day 77

For most of the day, the weather is unbearably hot and uncomfortable. Thus, it is all the more noticeable when we cross an imperceptible line and the weather simply….changes. The blazing sun recedes and a cool breeze manifests, along with the ever-so-faint sound of chimes, or a reed flute. Alder and I can hear this, but Hella and Bran don’t.   The feeling in the air is similar to particular areas I remember in the Empire, where magic flows easier and is more malleable. Some regions like this would have magical, dangerous beasts, or all the energy might be drawn into a single tree that drains the surroundings of any magic. Of course, these regions were often hotly contested as territory.   In the distance to our left, there is another river flowing in the same direction. Where it meets our river, about an hour’s ride away, there is a huge glittering island with long delicate bridges that connect it to the mainland. Bran says that this is Deldin, a good place to sell wares but an expensive place to live. His first teacher told him that if his work was good enough, he might one day be able to sell here.   As we approach, we start to see the remnants of an old road in the same style as the one at the Keep. The road on which we ride avoids these old ruins. Clearly it was too much work to repair these ancient roadways. Nearer to the city the road is lined with richly coloured banners in a repeating pattern of nine: Silver, gold, purple, azure, crimson, emerald, dusk, rose, and midnight blue.   And the bridge! The bridge looks like something directly from the Empire - impossibly long and well-balanced to avoid the use of support pylons that would be typical in human construction. It spans the river and connects the mainland to what now appears to be a series of smaller islands joined by walkways and bridges. At the foot of the bridge are two enormous statues, worn away by time and weather...both elvish. One wears robes and carries a staff with an intricate lattice-patterned head. I know it would be used to aid in the casting of a particular type of magic but my mind is foggy and the details are just out of reach. The other is clad in armour. This, I feel, does not carry any mystery that I can’t remember.   The entrance to the city is guarded by what seems to be three different organizations of guards clad in different colours and styles.

• Silver guards wearing elaborate, decorative armor and swept point helmets
• Crimson guards wearing practical armor in good repair
• Emerald guards in lighter armor, carrying wands instead of weapons

  Remarkably, when we are approached by a guard dressed in crimson, he does not seem to bat an eye at our party. Rather, he asks if we have any wizards travelling with us, and directs us to a guardhouse tended by an emerald-clad guard when we say yes. I consider hiding my magic, but dressed in robes and carrying both a staff and wand, it seems ill-advised.   Instead, the emerald guard calmly walks us through the entry paperwork, asking us if we are visitors or would-be residents, and informs us that they are in the midst of a festival after which an election will take place for a council member.   The city is comprised of three general factions: Sages, traders, and artists. Each faction holds three seats on a council of nine and currently one of the sage seats is up for election. He notes that the city is also composed of three larger islands, for knowledge, crafts, and arts, corresponding to the factions.   He asks us each to touch a crystal to evaluate our magic, and thankfully everyone else goes ahead of me to give me time to think. The crystal glows warmly for Bran, a bit brighter for Hella, and flickers a little bit for Alder. I knew he had magic!   When I touch it, it shines with many colours, much brighter than anyone else. The guard seems to take this in stride, but asks us firmly not to cast a ballot in their election. Many sages here will use magic to sense other powerful magic users and try to sway me in particular to vote in their favour. It seems that someone with greater magical ability casts a larger ballot than someone without. The same goes in the other factions - a high status tradesperson’s vote is worth more than an apprentice. I wonder if there are people with no votes…   Specifically, he tells me, I have enough power that were I a resident, I could easily run for one of the seats. This sort of power will make people eager to court me. No surprises there, but it does tell me there are sages of a similar power level to me in the city. Certainly, there will be no way of maintaining a truly low profile here, if everyone is actively sensing everyone else’s level of power.   He lets us into the city with paperwork for 5 days, and says it is an honour and a privilege to have met me. Very disconcerting, coming from a human.   Inside the city are only six banners, some repeated from outside and some new: Silver, gold, purple, steel grey, lapis blue, and light yellow.   It becomes more and more apparent as we walk that this is an elven ruin that has been inhabited by humans. The stonework and architecture is familiar. There are true elven fountains, some in disrepair and having been converted into gardens, and there is a tower in the Knowledge district that looks like a sister campus to the Academy I attended in the Empire. It is eerie, to say the least. I slip my hand into Alder’s.   We look for a place to stay and come to a building with a sign in both human and elvish. In human, The Twilight Rose.   In elvish, The Flower that Blooms in the Shade of the Empress.   Inside it smells like home - elvish spices and everything! There are human servants who bow neatly and wish us shelter in the Empress’ shade, in accented elvish. Alder seems stunned. We eat for a while in the common area, all elvish food that tastes like home. Listening to the tavern gossip, “Norrick” is a name that comes up often, both in admiration and distaste. I take it that he is running for office and that some people think of him as a refreshing change while others think of him as an upstart.   And finally, a very old elven man comes to greet us. When he sees me, he bows lower and ushers us into a private ornamental and edible garden where we can speak freely, particularly with the help of a privacy crystal which he activates.   He introduces himself as Winter, and he wears a brooch that affiliates him with an elvish noble house as an artist that they patronized. He is a sculpter, he tells us.   Deldrin is a city built upon elvish ruins, including the remains of an elvish library that he recommends I look at, along with a small “elf town”. The city itself is ruled by an elected council of nine, and some other elected offices. No office here is inherited, and all the races mingle equally, elves included.   That said, the highest office held by an elf is held by his daughter, who is a watch captain in the Trades district, which gives her authority over all the guards in that district. Remarkably, his entire family made it through the Barrier together.   This city is very strange, compared to Brighton. The glittering pinnacle of knowledge and forward-thinking here can only exist with the far-flung labour and oppression of the neighbouring city. My memories of the Empire are dim, but the Capital did not exist without the support of the Frontier, for all my classmates disdained the farmers.