Hello friends. If you havent noticed by now, the page has been changed so that there will be one continuously changing post for the story and all the other writing creation that I post will be under seperate posts. This means that you will have to remember about where you were with reading the story as it goes along. But as usual let me know what you think so I can make changes and take suggestions under considerations. Also bear in mind that this has not been edited yet and still needs revising, this is only the rough draft. Take care and have fun reading.
Chapter #1
Even from behind the massive vaulted doors of the senate hall booming voices could be heard bellowing to one another in heated tones of anger. The attendants, who regularly waited on the various senators and other leaders, listened closely to the doors and tried desperately to make out the shouted words. Though they tried and tried their efforts were always fruitless since the doors were enchanted and no words could ever be made out, only the sounds of voices occasionally made it through the enchanted iron. But the door was certainly getting a workout today, the senate had been in session since the sun had risen and was still in session even though the sun had set hours ago. The attendants had never had such a day before, all day they had been retrieving food, inkwells, quills, drinks, and other supplies the room’s occupants deemed necessary. But now the room was more alive then it had been all day.
Within the chamber the voices were even louder as one tall gaunt Elvish senator stood listening to another shorter and more rotund senator bellow, red-facedly, at him. Behind the gaunt senator, another stood and returned with his own bellowing to the red-faced senator. Each senator and various leader had their own small alcove hewn into the stonewalls with their family and guild crests above the alcove. The alcoves were positioned according to guild and ranks within the guilds. At the top of each tri-leveled row of alcoves were the house heads, guild leaders, or high senators. Not a single alcove was empty in the chamber and almost every occupant of each alcove was chattering or yelling at another save for a tall row of solitary quiet figures dressed comfortably in dark robes. Here sat the various leaders of the Magi Guilds and high above the others in it was the crest for House Minite, lead house for the mage guilds. At the highest alcove, seated comfortably near the balcony was a lone figure with its hood pulled up and holding a long silver staff adorned with a deep red ruby formed in the shape of an open hand.
Lord Overon Minite, head of the mage guilds and master of the Arcane Citadel, sat with a dull and bored look on his face which was concealed beneath the dark hood of his dark robes. As a general rule it was exceedingly rare for Lord Minite to attend any senate/guild councils but when war was openly being spoke of one could hardly ignore the cries of help from ones own guilds. The shouting bravado from one pompous senator to another was grating on his nerves and he was teetering on tedium. These disorderly shouting matches had been going on all day, one fat old elf shouting to another about how war would cost too much or how war was inevitable, even how war would affect wine trade with the dwarves of the lowlands far too the east. Of course he had made sure he and the Magi Guilds remained silent and provoked no argument. Magic getting involved in politics was something he strictly forbade unless there was no other way of getting around it.
At the moment he was dully listening to the tall thin senator being lectured, on the dangers of war affecting the iron industry, by the shorter fatter senator. Though he didn’t know either one of them personally he had seen these two arguing before and listened to them try and find reasons to verbally attack one another before. It was utterly fascinating to him that this was not altogether different than normal meetings, though this one had been called in emergency to force the council to vote on whether war would be declared or not. And Overon was there to make sure the vote never even came close to being in favor of war. So far his job had been simple, many of the other senators simply felt there was not enough proof to support cause for war against their Drow cousins. The various industry guilds, of course, supported the notion of war since it would be they who would make the various weapons of war to supply the army. But the numerous commerce guilds were firmly against any notion of paying for a long and costly war, a war in which they would gain very little but end up paying large sums of gold and silver for. Nearly ever senator in the room was being pulled two ways by the guilds that supported their elections year after year. But the council worried him very little, it was how close they came to gaining a vote for war that worried him, for he knew that if the vote reached 40% or more in favor then the Empress, who had final say in the matter, would approve the call for battle.
At the very back of his mind he wondered what he would do with Chantal if the vote for war was approved, it would be far too dangerous for her to remain within Avalon but all the more dangerous for her to return to Conciliae, the subterranean lands of the Drow far in the deep southern mountains. He had been concealing her in the caverns beneath the Arcane Citadel, since the Drow didn’t much care for the surface or the light, ever since she had arrived at his door and warned him of the impending war and the dark plots behind it on both sides. Nearly two months prior to the incidents surrounding the disappearance of several Elvish caravans and some Drow nobles, Lady Chantal Voleaux Xaden had crossed the Elf Drow border searching, quietly, for the Lord of House Minite. At first Overon had been quite wary of her, Drow women were notoriously violent and dominant, and so he had let his scouts observe her movements to try and determine her reason for seeking him. But after she and her two male servants didn’t appear to carry anything more but mere weapons of standard protection, hardly anything that could be considered a means of killing or hurting a mage of his years. So it was that he had sent out his messenger and bade her come to his home. He had never feared her actually finding him since his home was the Arcane Citadel, a place that could only be reached by those of magic or those for whom the path was revealed. When she arrived they had talked far into the late night of the things that she had observed in the Drow lands. Much of which she spoke added to his own suspicions of his government, except that she was suspicious of hers rather than his. She had watched as her government became more and more agitated all the time, constantly trying to find things for which to blame they’re Elvish cousins. Overon had seen this same behavior in his own kind against their Drow brethren. But now that the call for war was becoming all to close he had to begin to make plans for her safety if the worst came. Then again he wasn’t exactly sure what he would do if the war came, certainly he nor his own forces would not serve in it. His magi students would be called upon to serve in the Empresses army I order to neutralize the enemies own magi forces and he would be asked to instruct them on how to use magic to fight while he would eventually be called into service himself. In ages past he had served as a Colonel in the wars and had been quite good at what he did but since then he had found both war and killing to his distaste. He could not nor would not let he or his students serve. But it was his primary profession that he feared having to protect the most. In Avalon magi had once been dominant and considered tyrants who were extremely hard to control without the use of magic. So it was for that purpose that order of the Judicators, a group of specially trained magic users whose purpose was to judge and sentence mages who were suspected of breaking magical law. Overon had long been a judicator since he had entered their ranks many many ages ago. But now, in the prime of his life and the heat of his power, he had been, nearly 80 years in the past, named the head of the order. Normally Judicator were only law keepers for the magi but in times of need the Emperor or Empress may call upon their service for war.
He was brought out of his thoughts by a louder voice than the two who were bickering. “It is obvious now, what must be done. This council has no choice but to make a vote for war and if it be strong enough, to make a call for battle to the Empress.” It was the council’s chairperson Lord Falstone. “Each of you are hereby required to give your vote for war on our next session, which shall be no less and no more than two weeks from this day. Today’s business is concluded and all arguments called to rest, go now and give consideration to your decision and for those of you guild leaders, call council with our men for we need your best decision.” As usual he was typically neutral and diplomatic, Dekin Falstone was known for being indecisive.
Rising from his seat he watched as the others began filing out of the room with grim and angry looks. The vote had been inevitable, anyone could have seen that, but it was how the vote would go that would matter most. From what he had seen today the council was obviously split down the middle and a victory either way would be close and if won the Empress had made it clear that she would support the majority. With a sigh he shook his head to himself and decided he had best inform Chantal of this. The other magi had held back to him and waited for all the others to leave. He joined them in a throng on the council chamber floor. “ There is precious little that we can do now except cast our votes. Return to your homes, I shall contact you soon when I have made arrangements for an alternative.” Each nodded and gave a small salute. Each left through the great doors until only Overon remained. With another sigh he raised his staff and spoke a few words beneath his breath before a bright white light flashed an engulfed him then he was gone. Only one figure loomed in the shadows of the ancient room, a tall slender feminine figure that now wore a smirk of pleasure.
Cold winds buffeted the shimmering white marble walls of the Arcane Citadel as it presided over the steely gray mountains of the Tuloste range. Within the marble walls only the sound of hushed whisperings sounded through the long polished hallways, mainly coming from students studying within libraries and quiet studies that were strewn about in the great fortress. In the many eons before the Elven council presided over the lands and far before the Judicator Syndicate kept watch over the magi law, mighty mage clans fought for dominance over the land. One of the prime clans was clan Minitioria, who built their fortress high in the Tuloste mountain range. Here the clan sought to study the arcane magic’s and it was said that few but the most powerful wizards or those who were invited could ever reach the citadels walls. Even the few enemy wizards who found the citadel never fought their way in for the citadel was home to the entire clan, well over five hundred wizards of varying power. Eventually all the clans were united into the magi guilds and now held their own separate councils of the magiks. Clan Minitioria eventually slit and became the Elven houses known as House Minitia and House Minite. It was House Minite who now held sway over the great Arcane Citadel, one of the worlds most ancient mage fortress and home to some of the oldest tomes of magic to ever exist.
But the silence was broken, ruptured by the sound of soft spidery whispers and a dull thud that seemed to resound out through the solid stone and marble. Overon and his party had just appeared within the main hall, the only room in the citadel not shielded by protection spells that prevent magical transportation. On each side of the mage stood a guard, his constant reminder of his position as the Judicator Prelate. As the spell faded away and solid ground met their feet his silent guards swept off into the halls beyond, back to their other duties. Such appearances were more than common in the main hall and the guards both knew that once inside the citadel their charge was quite safe within the walls of his ancestors.
From across the room came scurrying a adolescent servant, no doubt a child belonging to one of the many resident students, smiling and bowing before the mage. His youthful voice ringing happily to Overon. “Greetings m’lord can I get you anything?”
Overon couldn’t help but smile. He had seen many children across the ages but he was always pleased with the children that belonged to his students, they were always well behaved and well spoken. “Go to caverns and inform mistress Chantal that I have returned and that I request her presence within my offices. Then have two glasses of Drow wine brought to us?” It was rare he ever gave any of the servants commands, he preferred to ask them things, it was better to treat people as you would your best friend one would gain more from it.
The boy’s smile seemed to fade at going to give the message to the Drow woman but he forced a smile nonetheless and nodded. “Yes m’lord, of course.” With that he turned and hurried towards a shadowed staircase in the farthest corner of the room that spiraled down into the cold bedrock of the mountains.
The mage watched the boy until he disappeared beneath sight then turned on his heel and started off towards his offices. He strolled down the main corridor, nodding to students and teachers as he walked.
Though the citadel had once been a warlike stronghold it had long ceased its original purpose and become a school for the magical arts. Today it hummed with students and teachers passing through the corridors of the lower levels and with scholars in the upper levels. Overon served as the citadels owner and the schools headmaster. For the most part the citadel was open to the students, teachers, and scholars save for a few sections. The caverns below lead deep within the ageless mountains and were kept off limits with a few exceptions such as storage areas and guest quarters for those guests who preferred less light, like the Drow. Above, the highest rooms and towers were also off limits, as these were also special quest quarters. But it was the entire southern wing that was kept off limits to everyone, for these were the headquarters to the Judicators and Lord Overons private rooms. Naturally the southern wing was the source for much conversation to the student populous and feared by the faculty. There was where the Judicators trained in their ability to bind other magi and kept their infamous truncheons. Overons private rooms consisted mainly of libraries containing precious spell books, ancient magi journals, tablets from times that had been long forgot, gardens where strangely wonderful and sometimes deadly flora and fauna grew, rooms whose purposes had yet to be figured out even by Overon himself, his offices, and his bedchambers.
The throngs of students and teachers seemed to disappear the deeper he went and were suddenly absent as he approached to heavy silver doors, the doors leading to the southern wing. In the center of the doors, where they parted, was a round hold disc with a completely flat surface no bigger than a foot in diameter. He lifted his right hand and placed it on the cool surface, warmth seemed to flow into him from the plate and the doors parted. As soon as he had passed through the silver doors they quickly closed and sealed themselves. Beyond lay a short stone hall that opened into a cavernous room that made the citadels main hall look like a broom closet. In the center of the room stood two massive statues. One was of a tall Elven mage holding a judicator truncheon high in the air above him and his free hand out in front of him, which seemed to hold a ball of formed energy in it and beneath the statue was a platinum plaque, which read “Light to blind the darkness and darkness to ensnare itself”. The other statue was of a hooded Elven woman, she seemed to be bowing her head slightly and her eyes looking up with her mouth formed into a tight smirk, she held a long staff that, on each end, was attached a steel crescent blade. Below the second statue an obsidian plaque was inscribed, in silver lettering, “Chaos to enslave the zealous light and chaos to slay the corrupt dark”. Neither of these statues ever failed to amaze him. The construction of each was flawless, not a single chip in either of them, and each a perfect Elven likeness, one could swear they were real were it not for the fact they were made of white polished stone.
He stopped briefly to gaze up at them. Everyday for nearly seven centuries he had seen these but not a day had gone by when he had not felt humbled by them. His violet eyes looked up at the huge Elf mage. The male statue was that of his namesake Overon De La Minitia, the first judicator even before the judicators had been formed. Thousands and thousands of years during the clan wars he and a few of his brethren had formed a society dedicated to ensuring that even with the wars, certain rules would always be adhered to. The long dead arch-magus had fought hard for peace between the clans and when it had been achieved he formed an entire legion that would make sure all other magi would follow a common code that ensured the safety of all those without magic.
Slowly his eyes moved to the woman and he shuddered involuntarily. Nearly every mage and judicator would have looked onto De La Minitias statue with reverence and silent awe. But the second statue was usually looked on with fear and sneering hatred. While De La Minitia was hero to the magi then Alexia Venditia was their bane. This second statue was an exact likeness of Alexia, right down to the wicked looking moon blade her and her Sisters Of Justice were known to carry. Alexia Venditia, a magess from the time of De La Minitia, had looked on as he formed his Judicator Syndicate with loathing. In more than one magi council she had openly opposed the Judicators formation in favor of something more final. The Judicators duty was to seek out magical rule breakers and punish the lawbreaker by extracting the very essence of their magic so they could never break those laws again. But Alexia had argued that these offenders did not deserve to live and as such they should be either be executed or imprisoned. So after long years of argument the council deemed that Alexia be allowed to form her own group, the Sisters Of Justice, who would be charged with imprisoning magi gone awry that slipped through the fingers of the Judicators. The Judicators were fully trained mages and so to were the Sisters but the difference lay in their style of practicing it. While the Judicators were typically spell users and worshiped the crafting of magic the Sisters used magic to enhance their own natural skills, they were exceptionally skilled in crafting magical weapons and items. Few things could capture and imprison a magic user quite like the traps of the Sisters. But there was an ancient grudge between the two groups, for if ever a Judicator went astray only the Sisters could handle his justice and whenever a Sister went awry the Judicators alone could judge her. So it was that these two were forever locked in disagreement. But in the last few thousand years the Sisters had ceased coming to Elven Senate and only attended magi councils on rare occasions. Now they were keepers to the magi prisons and used by the government to hunt and track down rouge mages, though that was actually the Judicators duty the government knew they had no control over the Judicators who’s stronghold could not be found whereas the Sisters palace was known to all to be located deep inside the Shadowed Forests, a maze of tree’s and swamps.
After a bit he tore his eyes away from the mighty statues that towered high above him. He continued his walk to his offices, coming round the statues and the cavernous entry chamber. On the other side of the statues were seven sets of doors on that half of the circular room. He approached a pair of doors off to his left and placed his hand on a metal disc similar to the one on the previous doors and they glowed softly before opening. Finally in his offices he sighed heavily and removed his traveling cloak and handed it to a female servant who was coming to greet him, though it was rare that his secretaries and servants in the offices ever spoke when he was tired, they knew him well enough to know he didn’t feel much like speaking. Through yet another set of doors he passed and entered his spacious main office. With a glance to the desk he saw that a tray with two tall glasses of Drow wine had been set there, the boy had been quite quick about his task. Here he slumped heavily into the tall padded chair that sat behind his expansive oak desk and closed his eyes.
He hadn’t closed his eyes for more than five minutes before a knock sounded on the door to his office. With a heavy sigh and without opening his eyes he sat forward, this had to be Chantal. “Come” His tired voice rang out. As he opened his violet eyes he watched the Drowess enter his office. She was unlike any of the Elven woman; she was quite tall even more so than he, very buxom, the coal skin coloring of her people suited her statuesque figure quite well, her arms were well muscled like those of any other warrior. He could not help but try weakly to suppress a boyish grin at her. She was wearing a low cut red leather vest, making her dark skin stand out, along with a long red dress that was slit up the side to reveal much of her leg and on that leg was a black lace garter belt that held a wicked looking dagger. The only thing absent of this woman was a sword, and usually she carried one, a particular sharp nasty looking broadsword given to her by her former masters. Down her back was flowing raven black silky hair, every bit of this woman spoke of power and the measured stance of a warrior ready for battle. She wore a twisted smile as she sauntered towards his desk and took a seat in one of the seats before it. He chuckled a little as she plopped unceremoniously down in the chair and propped her feet up on the desk. Despite the fact she was a one of seven mistresses serving the Drow government nothing about her showed any bit of royalty or diplomacy, but then her kind weren’t exactly known for their diplomatic skills.
Wearing that twisted smile of hers her smooth heavily accented voice spilled forth from her dark purplish lips. “Good eve m’lord. You look weary tonight.” Her smile grew and her lips pouted forth a bit more, he had seen this in her before. “Perhaps you should rest before we talk?” She stood and slowly moved her way around behind his chair and placed her well-worn hands on his shoulders and began to rub firmly and knead the flesh. “We can always speak later tomorrow if you need to re-gain your energies first.”
Slowly he turned his head up and arched a brow. “I have more than enough energies for you my lady.” A slight smirk, which soon faded as he sighed. “But I’m afraid I may not have enough for what may yet come…” For a moment he merely sat, speechless in thought before telling her the news. “….today the Council Of Avalon decided to vote on whether or not to go to war with our Drowish cousins.”
She merely smirked and moved around to the front of the desk and took her seat again and chuckled. “You take your little council matters far too seriously little Elf, we both knew that the vote would most likely come. This is nothing, so long as your pompous senators can be convinced that a war would be too costly and that they would not benefit from it, then we have nothing to worry over.”
His fingers tapping slowly on the desk. “Perhaps but many of those I thought would stand with me seem to undecided.” His violet eyes met her electric blues. “I have the sneaking suspicion that there may be more to this than mere tensions between our two governments. But in any case the council is too meet again to vote on war. I suggest that before that happens we make arrangements for you to depart back to your home.”
The Drowess’s pale face seemed to flush a light crimson color, giving her the all the seeming of an angry rose petal, but a rose petal carrying a rather wicked looking sword. Those startling electric blue eyes of hers, the narrow angular shape that all Drow possessed, focused tightly upon him. Deep inside her, inside the warrior heart that beat beneath her breast, she could feel her ire raising and preparing to rail against his words. However, something even deeper told her to hold tight and remain calm, though the voice within her greatly resembled his voice. “Typical, so much like an Elf to retreat from a battle. You would have me run when it is now that you may need me the most?”
For the past two days his energy had slowly been depleting and he was growing steadily more and more tired, he was in desperate need of rest and relaxation and now this woman dared test his temper. “Only for your safety highness, remember where you are when you speak. This is, after all my citadel, and you are deep inside enemy territory should war come. I merely advise that if you are to remain alive your best chances are with your own people should I not be able to keep my own people at bay much longer.” His jaw was set and his eyes firm, his countenance stern. “I will have my carriage collect you and your servants before midday tomorrow for your departure. My men will see to it that you reach the gates at nightfall so your passing will go more smoothly.”
What could she say? Arguing with Elves was utterly pointless once they had reached a decision, even one as reasonable as Overon for he was still an Elf and that meant to be stubborn about just about everything. But perhaps he was right, if war was to come she would far prefer to be with her people in her hour of need rather than wonder and worry about their fate from behind the enemy lines and how long could this mage keep her presence a secret? It was not the nature of a Drow warrior to stay hidden and cower in fear, no she had best return, if not for her own good then for the good of her people. Her own exquisite blue eyes held his frozen violet orbs for a moment and her voice was lowered. “I do not warrant your personal escort m’lord?”
The hardhearted mage seemed to soften for a moment. “Would that I could mistress but the political battle is not over yet and there are senators who need convincing.”
She nodded and her smile turned to a grin. “See to it they understand our dilemma and may your sword in battle strike true.”
Though he knew what she meant and he knew it to be complimentary it forced him to once again consider the possibility of loss. “So to may yours my lady, should it come to that.”
She knew in her mind that could not have been easy for him to say, though she had not meant her comment to be taken in such a way. A mere smile and nod was all she could think of to do, words would only have worsened both their moods. The past few weeks had been tiresome and she had wanted nothing more than for him to return to the citadel and inform her that the council had overwhelmingly declared war impossible. She had hoped to be on her way in the morning to her people and continue with normal life, but instead she would return to them and sound the call to arms, prepare defenses for what may very well be their inevitable final battle with their Elvish cousins. With a final bow to him she turned and headed off down the hall to her guest quarters to have her servants prepare for her departure.
He watched her leave and when the door had closed he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples. With her gone he could make things go more quickly and not have to worry about her possible discovery in his home. After drinking his wine he stood and decided upon rest over staying up another sleepless night writing to senators and other council members trying to convince them war was not needed. His bed would be a welcome sight after so many nights in the capital amongst deceitful senators and lying councilmen.
______END CHAPTER ONE _______________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Chapter #2
