Open Chronicles The Return Of The Queen

The Plaza

---

So...this was the way things would be. Vairos bristled. He felt something in his chest, something...was it pride? Excitement? This was a queen worth serving. This was a queen for whom Vairos could fight, and perhaps even die.

While his face remained placid as Vyx'aria spoke, the slightest up tilt of his chin was subtle only to the undiscerning. Vairos approved. Blood would flow, and Arethil would drink.

The spell of identity-displacement faded. The nush nush abated.

Nimruil was, at last, himself again.

He looked down.

What. Was he wearing?

Cold, grating fear cut into his spine like bone-saws. The roar of the crowd engulfed him, a forest of arms raised in the air, all to thunderous hooting, whistling, applause and shouts of congratulations. This was it. Everyone would see the archmage rendered into a fool; finally, one intoxicant too far for sanity.

He would rather have faced a horde of orcs than this level of shame. Certainly, mocking laughter would envelop him, before inevitable condemnation, demotion, and eventually, execution.

But as he looked, hardly anyone paid any heed. Despite his ridiculous attire, only a young drow or two were snickering briefly at his clothes, before all eyes were fixed on the plaza. His gaze followed them.

Squelch. Spatter.

Vyx'aria was cutting down traitors. Gradually, as he watched their lives expire one by one, Nimruil's nerves steadily calmed and his gaze cooled. He was not to become one of them, after all. Not today.

Vyx'aria said:

Vyx’aria straightened, blade still in hand, and turned her gaze back to the masses. “The old sins end today,” she proclaimed. “The era that follows will not be gentle. But it will be clean.”

Click to expand...

Nimruil gazed down upon his own hands, and pondered. What sins had they committed? Plenty. Which ones would count under this new reign?

None, if he could help it.

Hebemarri said:

“THY NAME IS VYX’ARIA? LAST KNOWN DAUGHTER OF HOUSE TOR’RAHEL, CLAIMER OF THE ONYX THRONE, WIELDER OF THE CHAPTER SWORD, TWICE RISEN CHILD OF ZAR’AHAL, CONQUEROR OF DHUNBOR, MISTRESS OF SHAY TIRLOC, SLAYER OF TRAITORS, BREAKER OF EXILES, SHE WHO WOULD WISH TO WEAR THE CROWN ONCE MORE.”

Click to expand...

As the Voice of Maelzafan spoke, that icy dread from before shuddered down through the rest of him. Her presence felt oppressive, yet strangely comforting. A toxic blanket of faux security, of meaning.

He sought to touch his outrageous clothes, but his fingers went clean through. Aha. A simple illusion. He almost went to dispel it, but then thought twice about it.

A link of concentration could lead him to the caster of this visual absurdity. He could discover who had decided to play games with him today. An instructive and -- perhaps -- an ultimately satisfying exercise.

One whispered word, Ssiks, and a wisp slithered out from his collar, primed for the illusion spell, causing his eyes to flare the same murk-green, and then the archmage followed the trail. Pushing past shoulders and ecstatic, flailing arms.

At last, he found her, thin shoulders drawn near together, a single braid of white hair resting languidly on them.

A moment of puzzlement struck him. A jalil weaving arcane magic? Even so low a school as that of an illusionist? An oxymoron, at best. The hesitation only lasted so long. He couldn't quite determine whether she was a commoner or low nobility from behind, but regardless, she didn't appear to have an entourage.

A snap of his fingers, and he dispelled the illusion, once again draped in the interlinked layers of his robe. That snap might serve to draw her attention, but if not, his words certainly would:

"You have a most interesting taste in fashion," Nimruil said, voice hoarse and somewhat hissing. "At least when you dress others."

Vel'duith

Vyx'aria said:

“The drow will become a force so terrible,” she finished, voice resonant with vow and wrath alike, “that the Surface itself will tremble at our name. Let their kingdoms shudder. Let their gods turn away. For we will remember what it means to be feared.”

Click to expand...

The whole surface delegation shuffled and murmured uneasily, as translations travelled down through their ranks. Their proud, colourful banners near seemed to wither before this proclamation, turning into dyed, deflated rags.

Xeraphine's eye slowly trailed back to Rae'twyn. There was condemnation in that pale-blue gaze; as if this was somehow his fault.

"Your familiar queen sounds like she wishes to wage war, Rae'twyn," she whispered into his long ear, leaning in. "I hope she doesn't intend to make examples of us, as well."

~THE QUEEN’S PLAZA~

Vel'duith turned around, the softly gleaming embeddings visible on the exposed parts of her arms and hands fading as the spell was snuffed out. Her garnet eyes widened slightly, and she bowed her head respectfully, her palms flourishing in greeting. She did seem surprised by his sudden arrival, but not nearly as alarmed as a caught prankster ought to have been if facing an angered archmage.

"E'spdon Nimruil! An honor to meet you more properly. You are yourself once again, I presume?"

Nimruil

The Queen’s Plaza.

Barney sat nervously in a small wooden chair beside the empty and opulent seat for the hypothetical grand mistress of drow commerce. He never had been a fan of attending coronations, and the massive dragon was certainly not helping that feeling by any amount.

“Maybe I could just slip out and come back when the crown is given, surely no one would notice?” Barney muttered

“I would.” Responded Quarro, whose voice nearly made the old ledger marker leap out of his seat. “Quarro!” Barney yelled beneath his breath. “What the blast are you doing sitting over here?”

“I’m a civil servant too aren’t I? and the royal section has only got no-name sad-sacks with no reason to even purge. I’ll let you know, ol Vyx sicced me and mine on plenty more.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t”

Quarro shrugged and bent down to massage his bad leg, before rising again to watch Vyx’aria closely as she swore her oaths.

“The fire in her is different now.” Quarro said. “Even now something has changed, maybe cause of the betrayal or maybe just age. But, standing in her presence, I sometimes feel scared like I haven’t been in a very long while.”

Barney looked at him, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t know, unlike you I’ve always been scared of her.”
———————————————————————

Hebemarri continued voicing the oaths for Nyx to swear. Most were frivolous, but as things went the sense of importance rose again.

“DOST THOU SWEAR TO HONOR THE PLEDGE OF HOUSES, THE SANCTITY OF THEIR STORIED NAMES BOTH GRAND AND NUMEROUS?”

“DOST THOU SWEAR TO HONOR THE PEOPLE, WHO SLAVE OR FREE LOOK TO THE CROWN FOR GUIDENCE, AND SEEK SUCCOR IN THE BOSOM OF HER RULE?”

“DOST THOU SWEAR TO HONOR THE PRIESTHOOD, WHO PREACH THE WISDOM AND MIGHT OF MAELZAFAN, FOR EVER SINCE AND EVER MORE?”

“DOST THOU SWEAR TO HONOR THE GUILDS, WHO FURTHER THE REALM’S BRILLIANCE AND BUILD THE REALM’S RICHES?”

Once Vyx’aria had sworn her oaths. Hebemarri spoke once more, the magic of the moment already beginning to wane.

“THY OATHES HAVE BEEN CONFIDED AND HEARD! NOW THY TOO SHALL BE HONORED WITH QUEEN AS THY STATION! RECEIVE YOUR CROWN, O’ VYX’ARIA OF HOUSE TOR’RAHEL! NAME THY RAHI’VALSHARESS, TELL THY TALE, AND LET ALL OF ARETHIL KNOW THY AMBITION!”

The onyx crown was placed before Vyx’aria by Beksesha as the soon to be queen prepared to receive it. Hebemarri lifted the crown with long hands of umbral magic that rose from the ground. It was placed gently atop the new queens head, and the dark magical presence faded from the air.

The plaza was as it had been before. Hebemarri kneeled, as did the priestesses, as did the Umbrals, as did the servants, as did the soldiers, as did the citizens, as did the houses.

Hebemarri spoke loudly with her own voice one more: “ALL HAIL QUEEN VYX’ARIA TOR’RAHEL! LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!”

As the crown was raised from her hands, Beksesha promptly bowed deepiy first to Hebemarri, then to Vyx'aria. Then she stepped a respectful pace back to await the proclamation before responding:

"All hail the Valsharess! May your reign be long and your glory enduring!"

Nimruil frowned. Then his eyes squinted.

'Himself.'

Ah, yes. Now memory began to serve.

Still, his addled mind swiveled with strange olfactory senses and vague, prismatic flickerings in the corner of his eyes. But he remembered . . . being in his carriage, and now here. Nush nush. It discarded identities as well as the New Queen was throwing away traitor heads.

And now, memory served him at another double-turn.

He knew this face. He had seen it before. Most recently in his own tower, in the company of none other than Vyx'aria, that At'arel warmaster and a gaggle of surfacers.

All of these calculations went by, mostly revealed by a twitching wrinkle in his frown, as he stared at Vel'duith. Then, with a significant pause, he drew a long breath and said:

"I am not certain I wish to know what -- transpired. But I don't suppose you have been to Lowtown recently?"

His paranoid mind struck upon another possibility. Why would he see her again, right after being swindled with Nush Nush sprinkled on Blue Caps? It couldn't be coincidence . . . could it?

Vel'duith

Tynael stood, her house immediately following suit. Her voice nearly croaked, so tight was her throat.

"Hail, Valsharess Vyx'aria Tor'rahel!"

She dipped her red-hooded effigy-standard respectfully toward the crowned queen, though her crimson eyes still smoldered with hurt and rage.

~THE QUEEN'S PLAZA~

Vel'duith turned back, stood, and loudly cheered the crowned queen, before sitting back down to resume her conversation with the archmage.

"Lowtown? No, E'spdon, not in two fortnights or more. But whether you wish the knowledge or no, I should tell you that you exited your carriage just down there, acting as though you were Vyx'aria herself, ordering people about. You demanded a change of clothes - and so, I made you appear to be a jester-queen, lest the Hounds cut you down for open blasphemy. And then you stormed on down the ramp, continuing to rant out orders to much applause and merriment... What do you suppose happened, E'spdon? Was it some attack by the Val'sharess's enemies? She could ill afford your loss, after all..."

She had pointed to where his carriage had unloaded him. Her thin lips curled in a bemused half-smirk. She was ever proud of her handiwork when a trick of disguise had come off just so...

Nimruil

"No, no, my lady, pure bluster and rhetorics, that's all it is! Nothing gets nobility riled up like talking about the surface, you see. And you cannot talk about the surface without hypothetical conquest--"

Xeraphine had distracted him. The crown was about to kiss the queen's scalp. Quickly, he raised his hands and joined the chorus:

"Hail, Val'sharess Vyx'aria Tor'rahel!"

Rae'twyn glanced around him. The surfacers' cries were limp as flaccid socks. Perhaps their spirits had doused at said rhetoric about surface conquest. Or perhaps they were merely confused at what was going on.

He was going to make sure his mistress wouldn't be. Let her stand out, at least, among these horse-eating sun-bilkers. Promptly, he egged her on with a nudging elbow, then an indicating wobble of his head and flashing of his eyebrows.

"Hail, Val'sharess Vyx'aria Tor'rahel!"

Finally, she caught on. Typical humans.

For a long moment, Nimruil looked as if turned to stone. Petrified. Eyes widened. Mortified.

Again, furious calculation went into his eye, searching her little smirk, her eyes, her voice, seeking desperately for a lie there. But he found nothing but easy truth. The sort of truth that came from little work.

Slowly, mildly trembling fingers pinched his own nose, his eyes closing. He needed a moment to accept that this had all happened.

"I suppose I have you to thank for my disguise," he said, near spitting that last word out. "How many saw--"

His line of interrogation was interrupted by the roar and clamour of the coronation. By near automation, his hand shot up to join the celebration, murmuring loudly something akin to Hail Valsharess, still working to shake off his embarressment.

Vel'duith

~THE QUEEN’S PLAZA~

“I do not know, E'spdon, but if you made it all the way to Lowtown, I would wager you shall receive unanticipated compliments for your spirited performance for months to come. But at least you are still alive to receive them! Please forgive my amusement, E'spdon. Please trust that were the situation any different, I should not have chosen such a humiliating means of rescue. It was all I could think of in the moment.”

She bowed respectfully once more, visibly trying to force the grin from her thin lips.

Nimruil

". . . Yes, I am certain it was all you could think of."

The dry comment came out the side of his mouth, but couldn't be fully drained of bitterness. He adjusted his robes slightly, as if to ensure they remained the same. By the sounds of it, though, none of significance had paid his little stunt any particular heed. And those few who had, well -- perhaps they could be silenced. Concerns for another time.

She was still far too amused about all this to his liking. But, caution should still hold sway. He did not know her station yet. Her bearing seemed near regal, but her manner of speech had been . . . corrupted. It was difficult to place it, but some tonal difference separated her from other nobility in Zar'Ahal.

A noble who practised low illusion, standing alone with no entourage, no attendants? Truly an enigma in the flesh.

Sharp eyes fixed back onto her.

"I remember you." He took a step closer and his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "Back when you entered my threshold with the queen -- when she was still an exile. One who surrounded herself with ilk of a similar calibre . . ."

"May I ask, what do they call you, malla jallil? And how did you find yourself in the queen's service; even back then?"

Vel'duith

The diminutive illusionist bowed politely in formal greeting.

“I am Vel’duith, once second-daughter of House Voiryn. And I should count myself greatly edified to hear the myriad better ideas an archmage so fully separated from his senses might have devised within the space of one breath!”

She met his eyes with a garnet gleam. She obviously did not mind being finally able to tell this tale.

“E'spdon Nimruil, I met the Valsharess in the crossroads cavern and helped her smuggle her surface retainers into Zar’Ahal. She confided her goal to me, and I suggested that if any in Zar’Ahal would know of such lore, it would be Nimruil Suulet’jabar.”

Here she once again bowed her head respectfully toward him before continuing.

“Over the course of our adventure, the Valsharess convinced me of the merits of her cause. So after gaining closure for a separate venture of my own on the surface, I returned to Zar’Ahal a week ago to pledge myself to the Valsharess’s service and witness her triumphant return. At her gracious invitation, I might add.”

Nimruil

There are times when passion leads you and one finds oneself in bliss, other times wisdom leads you and one may find truth but today it was the virtue of faith that moved Sazalam.

For as the crown touched Queen Vyx'aria's head he heard a voice deep as darkness itself whisper a word to him. A word he felt he'd forgotten. Itself a hush of a shadow in his mind.

*Shadizz'Ulterranack* - The unfinished spell. A ritual practiced only in theory. The Sun Eating Spell.

He had heard it spoken of by the Dark Mistresses of the College. If the Queen seriously willed a long term passing to the surface...

A path appeared before him. A purpose inevitable as death itself and if this was the will of the Dark-Mother then there was much to do.

With his hands clasped one over the other he did not raise his head or voice or stand tall but slipped from his seat and went to his knees.

"Praise the Queen and her ambitions, Praise the Dark and her virtues, Praise the Mother of us for her blessings below.
With speed and grace we ever shall walk under the protection of your Divine Shadow and fear not the light of those who dwell neath shining stars and sunlight.
Dark Mother grant me the wisdom to know your will and keep within me the resolve to walk your darkened path alone.

For in the end all light shall fade and only shadow will remain."

When he was done he came back to a world of roaring cheers and for all he knew his moment went unnoticed. Perhaps that was a blessing itself for he did not desire to burden elevated hearts with his own troubles and there was time yet.

Steadily he stood and though his heart was troubled by his mind he smiled as all did.

It was a day of celebration after all. Perhaps he simply needed a drink. The excitement of the day had gotten to him.
Gently, as the crowd still reared it's joys and triumphs to the Underrealm Sazalam slipped back into the crowd relatively unnoticed and came to an unattended tray of wine.

Next to it sat a Manling he did not know and had not seen before and had no knowing of their true nature.

"Have you ever seen such a day?"
He asked hoping some conversation might ease his mind as he took two cups and offered one to the Manling.

Azrakar

Hail Val'Sharess Tor'Rahel! Zathria's voice joined the cheers that filled the plaza, the sound carrying out over the city for hundreds of meters around.

Vyx'aria rose from her bow, once again crowned Queen. For years Zathria had followed her across the surface, through the valley of the shadow of death. They had known fear, cold, and hunger. They had known violence, loss, and defeat. They had known uncertainty, exile, and shame.

And they had come out the other side with vengeance. They had excised the cancer of betrayal and claimed dominion once again. The whole world recognized the Queen that Zathria had always known her to be.

Where was there was once hunger, now there was abundance. Where there was once defeat, now there was victory. Where once there was exile, there was now conquest.

Zathria had no regrets. She would follow Vyx'aria always, into the fire.

As Vyx'aria said her name, she rose, a wave of pride and emotion washing over her as she stepped forward, the faintest hint of tingling at the edges of her eyes as she drew her swords from their sheathe, one in each hand, and placed them point down to the ground as she knelt.

By Maelzafan's gaze and the Onyx Throne, I bind my blood to yours, my Queen.
Let my life be spent in defense of your rule.
Let my loyalty be measured by the strength of your reign.

She spoke the words of the oath loudly for all to hear; words that Zathria meant with every fiber of her being. Words that were merely an echo of the actions that had already defined her for decades.

She rose and sheathed her blades when instructed, only now bringing her gaze to meet Vyx'aria's. When she spoke again, the words were quieter, only for the Queen. A smile pulled the corners of her lips up as she spoke.

Where you lead, I will follow, my Vaslsharess. Whether by my life or death I can protect you, I will. I love you, sister, she said. She had lost her blood sister in the coup, but long ago she had found a sister in arms who she would go to any length for.

She resisted the urge to pull the Queen into a hug as that would of course be without decorum for the Rahi'Valsharess, but the heart of it was there and Vyx'aria would see it in her eyes as Zathria would prepare to return to her position once again.

Tyrnael Myrlochar quickly rose, hoping her eyes were not visibly irritated to be witnessed by all the nobility as she silently strode across the plaza. It took all of her will not to look at them as she passed to kneel before Vyx’aria, drawing out her dagger and presenting it forward with both hands. Her voice was still half throttled as she struggled through her oath:

“By Maelzafan's gaze… and the Onyx Throne, I bind my blood to yours… my Queen.
Let my life be spent in defense of your rule.
Let my loyalty be measured by the strength… of your reign.”

Her voice now lowered, she met the Queen’s gaze, letting her see the agony and rage barely contained in her welling crimson eyes. In barely a whisper, she addressed her:

“You do have my loyalty, Valsharess. I serve Her will and I shall defend you as though you were among those precious few remaining to me of my family. But we must speak soon! If you know not already of what I speak, oh! -believe that you will hear it from me.”

She returned her gaze downward, one treasonous tear betraying her own duty-mask to fall to the floor.

@Vyx’aria

"Sweet Darknees below!"

He almost missed it, his reason for being there was happening and he was lost in himself almost too lost to see it.

"A thousand pardons my friend but I must witness this!"

Without his seat in the second row Sazalam resorted to the only method left to him to not miss it and hopped up on the border wall behind the mysterious Manling and from there held the glimmering lamp post with one arm casting his gaze upon his Mistress and witnessing her moment.

Quite forgetting himself he wore the smile of a giddy child and his ears flexed with excitement to see Zathria get all she had worked for and more and it felt, right, good, just to see it so. It affirmed in him the philosophy that life was only what you could carve from it and to get what you desire sometimes means reaching out and taking the world by the throat.

A boisterous cry filled him as it was done and Tyrnael was called.

"THAT'S MY MISTRESS! HAIL QUEEN VYX'ARIA AND HAIL ZATHRIA OF AT'AREL!!"

Before he knew it he was quaffing the wyrmwine with impulsive joy stopping only to gaze out at Zathria and marvel at all she had done since they met on the edge of a surface battlefield what seemed now like an age ago.

Azrakar Zathria At'Arel Vyx'aria

Xunari didn't feel the need to be any more involved in the skirmish than she already had been - between Zahtria and her boytoy, the "foe" had decided that valour wasn't to be found in mindless bravery this day. Then, naturally, decided to try and speak to the Queen in the middle of her approach during her coronation.

Huh.

Surprising that the impudent male kept the hand he offered in all honesty but Vyx'aria's mind was her own and she kept her own council on who to allow near. Still, it was side-lined rather quickly by the execution of those who had tried to stand in the way of Vyx'aria's ascension. Xunari gave polite applause at the end of the declaration and the speech, as was expected.

"You wouldn't know what to do with peace and calm, sister." she whispered back to Zathria with a smirk, "Confrontations suit you."

She smiled bright and wide - it hurt her cheeks to be so brazen in the uncommon motion - but she cared not. She clapped and she cheered as if she was one of the common folk as her long-held leader was finally crowned as undisputed ruler of their shared kind.

Patting Zathria on the arm as her friend stepped up to accept her position, Xunari leaned back in her seat with a soft sigh.

Well deserved.

Tyrnael Myrlochar was another, expected and well-deserved person to be named. She was someone who had strength and everyone knew it. Undeniable was the word she was looking for.

Then... her own name was called.

She couldn't help the wicked smirk that she threw in the general direction of her cousins as all of their half-secret plots fell apart in light of this new revelation. Oh but she had enjoyed keeping it secret for this precise reason if nothing else.

Rising from her own seat, Xunari trod the same path as Zathria and Tyrnael before her - coming to a stop in front of Vyx'aria no longer smirking but instead smiling as her skin began to glow. Runes lit up along her body as she made her own pack, taking a knee in front of her Queen.

"By my magics and knowledge; by my heart and soul's power, I bind myself to your service. Sworn to protect and serve your interests above all others."

Gasps from her House as she effectively swore them to service as well as their leader.

"A contract written in magic, burned into my flesh and spirit, that I shall never break. You have proven singularly worthy of this; my honour, my duty, my devotion and my strength. All are yours - hail Vyx'aria the once, future and present Queen!"

Her vow spoken and sealed, Xunari would rise on Vyx'aria's mark to stand to the side with her fellows.

Vyx'aria Zathria At'Arel

Zathria squeezed Xunari's arm as she sat back down, the two of them on a trail that was bound up together for decades. She was glad to stand shoulder to shoulder with Xunari again.

She was already smirking when Vyx'aria prepared to name the final member of the guard, and as Sazalam's name was called, you could hear a pin drop. There was shock and silence and then cheers. The smirk turned to a beaming smile as she clapped and even stood, applauding the appointment of one who she knew was not going to be expecting it.

It wasn't just about his work at the battle of Shay, it was the loyalty she had seen from him on the surface when they first met. His proclamation of who he followed even when it would have been easier and wiser to name the Usurper. She had seen his heart and had endorsed him wholeheartedly.

SAZALAM! SAZALAM! SAZALAM! she joined the chant as her vambrace clacked against her breastplate.

Tyrnael had heard of the infamous exploits of “The Salamander” from Zathria after they had taken Shay Tirloc. She offered him a simple military salute as he rose to come be pinned, arms crossing her chest followed by the slightest of inclinations.

She offered similar gestures to Zathria and Xunari in turn, but otherwise said nothing, her face all but emptied of expression, looking vaguely out into the gallery.