13.4 Another Face
General Summary
Day 150
Late in the afternoon, we arrive at the gates of Ipth and surprisingly, Alder is recognized by one of the guards. Despite the friendly reception, we are told that all elves are to be escorted to the Baron himself. The human guard seems somewhat apologetic about this, but escorts us there regardless.
The mood is tense as I grimly inquire about whether any elves actually leave the Baron’s manor, to which the guard expresses that surely the Baron wouldn’t hurt Alder! He’s not like other elves, after all!
We are brought into the Baron’s ostentatious mansion, where his personal guards give us dirty looks. The Baron himself receives us and seems visibly surprised to see me alongside humans, dismissing his guards immediately.
And then...he begins casting in elvish - a sound-based enchantment to prevent noises from leaving the room. And then he drops his illusion, revealing an elf. I laugh, openly. We are so resilient and so resourceful - I will never cease to be amazed at where I find elves on this side of the Barrier.
His name, he tells us, is Memory, and he is Outer Family to Syrdarel, a powerful and influential Lord in the Imperial Court with whom I have never had any problems.
The previous Baron is still alive, and had been sweeping the surrounding lands for elves when Memory and his sister were caught three weeks ago. Memory took the opportunity to relieve the Baron of his identity and sent his sister to Sahlon, where she remains safely hidden.
Under Memory’s direction, the patrols continued but elves are now brought directly to him for “interrogation”. The elves leave his home as ‘corpses’ under an illusory spell. It’s a very, very clever strategy and I’m sure he’s saved many lives already. Still, it seems unsustainable.
He was planning on “choosing an heir” and then faking his own death and letting his heir act out rebelliously to his predecessor’s anti-elvish ways. He’d thought that he would be his own heir, and masquerade as a half-elf, as though the Baron had bedded some poor elvish woman. It is not perfectly relevant, as few humans would know this piece of trivia, but I do tell him about Cheena, a ‘half-elf’ indistinguishable from any full elf.
Alder and I eagerly join Memory in spinning out complicated stories for him to swap out his persona faster than intended. He says he can probably keep this up for a few months but not for years, and I certainly don’t want an openly anti-elf leader in charge of Ipth for much longer. Even if the elves brought to Memory survive, those who encounter his rabid followers might not.
He might have his army attack Ipth and be roundly defeated, with the Baron dying amongst them and being replaced by a more cautious heir, or perhaps have the elves save Ipth from some indeterminate other force (a dragon, perhaps)? But all of this plotting is besides the point for now, given my current mission. He can plot with the people we’ve left at the Keep.
In the meantime, I instruct him to evacuate all elves from the city and send them away via Sahlon. This is not a city that is safe for them. He asks me, in my travels, to watch for his brother who came from a similar background back home. As he describes his brother I eagerly interrupt him - his brother is Lael, the father of the elven girl I had just told him about. How remarkable, for these two to have such unusually similar circumstances at home and to have both made it here alive and influential.
And then we leave, with illusory bruises but alive, to show that we got lucky for being friends with Alder but not lucky enough to avoid the Baron entirely.
Our brush with the ‘Baron’ was a surprise but not entirely out of the ordinary for Alder and me. We’re not disturbed by it, at least. Camella is another story. She asks whether it is common for elves to wear different faces like that, and to impersonate another so effectively. It’s not….common per se...in the Empire such a deception wouldn’t last nearly so long, and there are measures taken to ensure that when you speak secrets, you know to whom you speak. Still, it seems to have made an impression on her.
Later, she wonders out loud if the fae have become lesser than they once were because they aren’t able to travel as far from the Grove. Long ago, they would have been able to travel much further and sleep at other Groves. For a race built on new experiences, songs, and journeys, having such a limited range to what they can hear and experience would have been stunting.
Day 151
We camp overnight outside the city, keeping careful watch all night. In the morning, Bran enters the city alone to fetch supplies and warn the other elves as best he can.
When he returns, he brings along a gift from Dreah, who I’m pleased to hear is still alive. She sends me a crisp, well-made set of travelling clothes specifically for a mage - plenty of little pockets and sleeves for my tools and components. In the second carefully wrapped package is another set of clothes for an occasion I hadn’t thought to consider. It is formalwear, beautifully made with sheer black gossamer and delicate detailing. I would have worn something like this to the Court. I imagine that on this side of the Barrier, I might wear it to some ambassadorial event with another race. It is so distinctly elvish - a piece of our culture to drape myself in.
Perhaps more practical than the clothing is the map he has sourced. It’s a human map, and has plenty of markers for monsters and other supposedly dangerous or interesting sites.
And of course, like the free-wheeling adventurers we are, we head straight for Four Boots.
Day 152
At noon we come to what is very clearly the site of Four Boots - two pairs of four metre tall boots, enormous and towering over the land. There are shattered remnants of what I think were once enormous statues. Strangely, the boots face one another. The make of the two boots is unusual - one is distinctly elvish and the other looks dwarvish, maybe? Whatever they are, it feels distinctly magical and I reach for the pearl.
The statues are 1500 years old, and in the past I see two figures locked in combat, but smiling at one another. A dwarven fighter with a hammer and shield against an elvish fighter with a sword and wand. Once there was a plaque here in both Elvish and Dwarven: “To those who met as foes and left as brothers - Kins of the winds. Mon and Arafael. Long may they rule together,”
With this prompt, Kadia reaches back through her memory and remembers the legend of this place:
Once there were two minor lords of their own tribes who had squabbled for ten years. At the end of their disagreement, the tribes spent 100 days fighting at the top of this hill, not in a battle but in a series of duels. They took breaks, stayed rested and healthy, and fought with honour for several moons.
At the end of the hundred days, Mon and Arafael fought each other for three days straight, leaving the battlefield as friends at the end. Together, they built a city together and their legend remained for hundreds of years. It’s a bit fanciful, but the magic of the area reflects the story. This is an area of magic that wants to learn, create, and find common ground. If I were to hold a negotiation, I think I would want to hold it here. It would be a good place for a school, I think.
Before we leave, I transmute a stone plaque hidden amongst the boots that tells the story anew. The magic helps - it wants things to be created and it wants the story to be told.
Day 153
The next day, we head towards The Canyon of No Sound, which Kadia doesn’t remember at all. When we arrive, we find the canyon steeped in ragged Dwarven magic that silences the valley. We step in and find ourselves silenced entirely. Again, I reach for the pearl.
I see the valley lush, with a much stronger river traversing it. I see dwarves, yes, but also hulking enormous creatures with gnarled skin who tower over the stout ones. These are trolls, I realize, locked in combat with the dwarves. Unlike the honourable duels between Mon and Arafael, this is brutal warfare and I see why the dwarves silenced the area.
The dwarves work as teams and are incredibly effective together with their steel. The trolls reach first for their magic and find it absent without their verbal components, but when they turn to their weapons they are horrifyingly strong and capable despite how slow they are to adapt to the lack of magic.
It’s chilling. The thought of warring against these enormous and powerful fighters and casters is horrible. I’m reassured by my slow, slow plan of allying with the fae and dealing with the burning forest before even approaching the trolls themselves.
