12.3 Not So Different

General Summary

Day 111

With the rest of the day, the party disbands according to their needs and my light suggestion.

• Haze, Willow, and Knotrael go scouting for the Severed. I tell them not to engage, but that I trust Knotrael’s judgement.
• Zadiyah, Rosalia, and Linai
• Raelli, Shei
• Camellia, Kadia, Hella

 

Day 113

After spending a day with Kadia and Hella, Camellia comes to find me. She saw Kadia’s tree and experienced the forest and I can see that it was hard for her. She says that the forest is still a place where a fae might slumber through to their next season, but they would hear only the mad songs of war and wake twisted and wrong.   She knows that the magic of the forest is still necessary to protect us, but asks me to promise that while I govern the area, no fae will fall into slumber here. If our races come into conflict again, she asks me to promise that we will allow the fae to flee rather than sleep here.   She seems troubled; her people have forgotten what it means to wage war, and mine clearly have not. The possibility that we might one day fight against one another is not lost on her.   Still, I cautiously ask how long a fae near slumber might live and think through the chain of events that would need to take place to fulfill this promise - a fae so desperate to choose twisted sleep over death couldn’t simply be removed from the forest; they would need to be transported to a safe grove. If they weren’t travelling with other fae who could take them there, we would have to do it.   Camellia takes this in stride. When it is time for her to sleep again, she says I can guide her back to the Grove so that I will know where to take a lost fae. The trust in this offer is not lost on me. I can’t imagine it is common for an outsider to know where the Grove lies, let alone an elf.  

Day 114

Tira, Bran, and I have been carefully working away at planning our crafting for the coming days, when we hear a commotion at the gates. Shortly after Linai comes to fetch me.   When we arrive at the gate, we are greeted by a ragtag group of 50-60 humans, all commoners and many wounded. Leading them is someone I hadn’t expected to see for several decades - Lael and his daughter, Cheena. Anna is not with them. As we lead the humans inside and set about tending to their wounded and settling them in, Lael tells me what has happened.   They were attacked by humans, he says, and describes the familiar robes of the Order. They were saying that the village needed to be cleansed of their elven master, and that the villagers were no longer human as they had been tainted and led into shadow. He tried to surrender to protect the village, but they wouldn’t let him. Eventually it came to violence, and many of his people were killed. Anna herself died shielding Cheena from the blows. The guilt lies heavily over him and while I might try to lift it at another time, I know that it needs to settle before he’s ready to feel absolved. They spent two days after the attack tending to their wounded, and then half chose to stay while the other half chose to follow him for the slim thread of safety he might provide.   His eyes harden and he asks if I will stand with him against the Order, or if he needs to go elsewhere for vengeance. There is relief when I tell him he is joining an ongoing fight.   The rest of the day is spent absorbing this band of people into our home. I see the kindness in our people - in how they speak to these shell-shocked refugees, and remember their own days fresh out of the Barrier with nothing but what they carried with them. A few stand apart, and I hear them murmuring that they regret wishing humans understood what it was like to be fleeing their home.   As the numbness turns to anger, some of the humans look at the elvish soldiers here and exclaim that if only they had had armour and swords, they could have fought back and been safe. Linai gently imparts a hard truth that all of us recognize - we had swords. We had armour and weapons and an army. We still fled. And perhaps once these humans are armed and trained and ready to fight, all of us will be able to stand against the people who attacked, but it will take time and we all know that you heal first, then fight.   Gederick comes to find me to report that we have the supplies to house these people properly, but we will need to resupply in four weeks rather than six. How lucky we are to have someone with his skills here! He also discreetly requests permission to go into the human settlements and track down anyone profiting from elvish suffering and end their profiteering. Perhaps it is the emotions of the moment speaking and not my better judgement, but I give him leave.   With a sinking feeling, I think of the Weaver’s village and have Tira ask Haze to watch out for it.   What is already a long day promises to extend further into the night as Tira reports to me that Haze, Knotrael, and Willow have found two fists of Severed and engaged with them directly. Apparently they were attacking a human village, and the impact of two elves leaping from the back of a true dragon was enough to resolve the issue. Now they have requested my presence to restore the Severed they’ve found.   While we wait for Haze to come collect us, I ask Tira about the nature of true dragons. Haze is between 1000 and 1500 years old, but the eldest dragon she knows of is old enough to make the Empress seem young. It is no wonder they do not get involved in the wars of younger races, I think. Haze himself is a misfit amongst his kind precisely because of the interest he takes. He is young and mischievous, and likes hiding in the mist and surprising people. She says he is envious of how easily the smaller races can hide (I think of Alder and how he nearly goes invisible in the darkness).   When I ask about their magic, she tells me that each true dragon is unique. There might be many dragons who have water magic, but the dragon of lakes is different from the dragon of streams, and different from the dragon of the open ocean. The dragon of gentle rain is long-passed, as is the dragon of desert storms. And there is legend even amongst the Kindred of a dragon whose wings encircle the world; even the eldest of the Kindred speak of it as something that was old when they were young. Even the true dragons retreat to their caves and fold their wings over their head when the Storm passes.   After only a few hours Haze arrives and we join him, bringing Camellia with us. He flies faster than I would have thought possible, and clouds form about him as he soars through the air. Here above the clouds, there are no shadows save those we cast ourselves, and it is disconcerting to see the blinding light and not feel threatened by one of the numerous fiery enemies we have faced of late. In the distance, nestled within the Barrier itself, something glittery and green sits on a tall peak of a mountain. I can’t quite make it out; I assume it is something of the Kindred’s make.   In only a matter of hours, Haze is diving towards a large walled town, not too far from the Osyr city. He lets us off to approach on foot, a wise decision. As we descend, Camellia thanks him for letting her fly higher and faster than she has ever flown before. He touches his snout to her head (I’m surprised he doesn’t knock her over) and rumbles that her people were once able to fly with his, and that perhaps one day they’ll do so again.   Approaching the village, we find Willow leaning casually against the gate. He tells us that the Severed are being guarded in the town square while Knotrael speaks with the elders. He looks very pleased with himself!   When Knotrael comes into view, he is speaking to three humans - two men with long beards and an elderly woman. He kneels and bows to me in such an exaggerated formal manner that I have to bite back laughter, and I’m sure Tira is doing the same. I recall every time I’ve had to deal with the Imperial Court and let a mask of imperious nobility settle over my face. I’m going to tease him about this later, mercilessly.   The elders (Emily, Torck, and Meryck, who prefers the title of Sage) explain the situation to me, and speak of the need for punishment for the destruction the Severed have caused. Sage Meryck, whose beard is woven with a variety of magical runes in many languages, expresses his doubt at the truth of what Knotrael has said, and the conversation devolves into skepticism. I wave this off easily - there’s no need to make decisions while they are skeptical. I can simply show them the truth. They agree, but Meryck assures me that he will see through any trickery or illusions. That’s the sort of bluster that I’ve never understood. Just let someone attempt their illusions and get caught, if you’re so confident in your ability to spot them.   Willow brings one of the fist leaders forward and introduces her as Ishvael. She has sheathes for even more knives and weapons than Alder, and I can see why she would fight like the whirlwind that is her name. She and Willow were lovers, she tells me, and it is only because this news comes from him that she believes it.   As we prepare to fight the flame creature inside her, the elders take a place behind a dwarven magical barrier that Meryck erects. I see two emblems in his beard glowing, presumably the ones used to create the glowing stone wall.   The fight itself is easier than it ever has been. Tira weaves a magic that draws upon Ishvael’s own skills, animating her weapons to fight with us. It isn’t easy, but it isn’t hard, and when the dust settles I see the elders looking stunned, and Torck emanating a cooling sort of nature magic.   Their attitude has changed. Meryck confirms that the curse comes from human temples, and sends for their Highest, a priest of the Candlemaker. While we wait, I ask him about his magic and he tells me that he has spent many years travelling and learning from dwarves, fae, trolls, and humans. Potentially, this is an ally with whom we could share magical knowledge. Just like stories teach us about a people, so does their magic.   After some seemingly political back-and-forth with the lower priest who arrives in his place, the Highest eventually presents himself with a speech about how he is here as a courtesy and not because he answers to the civil government of the town. He is a portly man in gaudy robes and there is an instant mutual dislike between him and every other person present.   As I’ve noticed is the nature of portly humans in gaudy robes, he blusters about damages to his temple and demands labour from the perpetrators as punishment, and refuses to be held accountable for their curse which must have come from some other temple. To their credit, the elders make a very pointed case against his bluster and they go round in circles, escalating and insinuating until I grow bored.   We demonstrate the removal of the curse once again, and find the Highest white as a sheet when I turn back to him. He mutters that the magic is indeed from the churches of the Candlemaker and the Fisherman but it certainly wasn’t his temple, and he’ll release his claim to punishment but still won’t be held responsible for any other temple’s actions.   Anxious as I am to deal with the rest of the Severed, I don’t feel like teaching this self-important little man about manners. I drop some veiled comments about how someone so important in the Church must feel it is his duty to stamp out such a torturous exercise. He seems unconvinced, and bustles back to his temple like an ant back to its hill.   The elders tell me that we are welcome to continue using their well-drawing square to continue the process, if need be, but it is clear that they’re eager to set all of this behind us.