Fable - Ask The Onyx Court

[Vyx'aria]

Weeks had passed since her coronation, yet idleness was not a vice Vyx’aria indulged. Shay Tirloc, Dhunbor, and Zar’Ahal now bent beneath a single banner, but unity was only the beginning. Beyond them lay other cities, other thrones yet unbroken, and wars that would not plan themselves.

She had summoned the Onyx Court to the council chambers to address matters that required neither pleasantry nor delay.

The hall was vast and deliberately austere, each seat fixed in place awaiting its owner. At its center sat Vyx’aria, sprawled with unbothered dominion upon her seat, as though it were an extension of her own body. She had not bothered with courtly finery. Instead, she wore the remnants of her training attire, a fitted vest, dark trousers, heavy boots, leaving her sinewed, sculpted arms bare. One elbow rested against the throne as her chin leaned into her palm. The other hand drummed idly on the armrest, long nails clicking in a slow, impatient rhythm.

She watched the chamber doors in silence, waiting for the court to assemble, her expression unreadable, her posture relaxed in the way only the truly dangerous could afford.

Her thoughts, briefly and irrelevantly, drifted to the unfinished romance novel left abandoned in her chambers. A trivial indulgence. One she would return to only after her war path was shaped.

Zathria At'Arel Beksesha Suulet’jabar Nimruil Hebemarri

 

[Beksesha Suulet’jabar]

Beksesha Suulet’jabar arrived looking quite refreshed, wearing one of her usual gowns, bedecked with the long-coveted jewelry she had inherited from her mother. She was looking unusually pleased, having just discovered that her heir had conceived a child after the coronation. She bowed formally, then took her assigned seat elegantly, giving Vyx’aria a broad smile - a nearly generational rarity on her infamously dispassionate face.

“Ven’dui, Valsharess. You look quite hale, if I may be so bold.”

 

[Hebemarri]

“yes, I would say so as well~” spoke a deep and echoey voice as Hebemarri sauntered in behind Beksesha. “We of the priesthood are most grateful to be welcomed into the palace.” The larger high priestess bowed her front legs and long neck, showing respect to the queen in a quadrupedal fashion

Hebemarri was dressed in a modest amount of adornments, based in the colors of Zar’ahal. She made her way to a large rug beside the seating provided to Beksesha and sat like a lounging cat. “It has been many years since I have spoken professionally on matters of state, but I hope my two millennium of service will serve this council well.”

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria arrived to the court chambers promptly at the scheduled time. Already working and reviewing reports for the morning, the Ditronw Rahi’Valsharess was dressed not so differently from how she had been dressed at the coronation: practical armor, weaponry, and magical items kept in pristine condition while she was in the city.

My Valsharess, Zathria said with a part bow toward the queen as she entered and took her seat.

She gave a brief nod toward the other two who had already arrived as her eyes passed over each of them. She had her own suspicious feelings about them, but made no comment, simply waiting for them to declare their intentions with a watchful eye.

She told herself that it wasn't that different from the surface war councils, but in her heart of hearts, she felt that it was. There was an expectation to perform - maybe just from herself - and now the stakes were different. Not necessarily higher, though. How could it get higher than fighting day in and day out to survive? But different.

 

[Nimruil]

Spoiler: Music

Nimruil entered shortly after his sister, the high priestess and the head of the queensguard. He was the first male to enter this dragon's den, and his frown attested to that fact plainly. Little could smoothen it, given the knowledge of who surrounded him and their combined power. He already dreaded political meetings and had attempted to steer clear of as many of them as possible. This one was a neccesity, however; even as he yearned for the confined comforts of his laboratory, the gentle soothing bubble of its pots and alembics and the intoxicating smells of its fuming alchemy.

The mixture of imbibed Timmask and Rogue's Lament helped take the edge off, however, dulling his overwrought senses and keeping his features somewhat placid. He inclined his head and lowered his gaze, granting an appropriately deep bow.

"Ven'dui, Valsharess. Rahi'Valsharess. Obok Yathrin." He paused, eyes flickering towards Beksesha. He only needed to see her stir from the corner of his eye to know what face she might make. "Malla Ilharess."

His presentation today consisted of a surprisingly plain robe, black as the unlit darkness of the Underrealm, with silver threading running through its edges like broken webbing. Its heavy folds swallowed him in a void of colour, leaving only ash-coloured hair, fluorite eyes and grey skin to contrast it. Between his hands he held a similarly black-wooded casket about a foot in length, scrawled with silver writing swirling around its keyhole. With this item in hand, he slowly drifted to his own seat in the council and sat down.

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria watched as they filed in, giving their proper bows, giving Zathria a smile. Beksesha and Hebemarri, two normally very crotchety women, were in good spirits. It was almost unsettling to behold, and Vyx’aria suspiciously wondered if there were some executions she wasn’t aware of. Naturally, Nimruil walked in next, and Vyx’aria was certain the older women were going to grimace.

Deciding not to give anyone the luxury of expressing their passive aggressive huffing, Vyx’aria leaned forward and decided to begin.

“Welcome to the first meeting of the Tor’Rahel Court,” she said. Onyx was mainly the name known to outsiders, whereas the sitting Queen’s house was usually the queendom name. “We have brought Dhunbor and Shay Tirloc to heel,” she glanced at both Zathria and Hebemarri, “under your great efforts.”

She stepped to the central table and unfurled a map in a single smooth motion.

“Long before our houses fractured into jealous sovereignties, there was an empire. Some call it myth. Some call it heresy.” Her gaze sharpened slightly. “I call it precedent.”

She gave a measured pause.

“Three cities now answer to one throne.” She placed her palm flat upon the map.

“We decide tonight whether that throne turns west, beneath the Allir Reach to claim more cities… or south, toward Belgrath into the surface.”

Her eyes lifted, holding each of them in turn.

“Expansion is inevitable. Direction is not.”

Silence settled.

“Speak.”

 

[Beksesha Suulet’jabar]

Beksesha greeted each of the other council members as they arrived. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of her brother, but she gestured toward the remaining seat as welcomingly as she could muster given her surprise. She arched an appreciative eyebrow at Vyx’aria, nodding slowly.

Once she had fully heard Vyx’aria out and let her words settle for a few seconds to be sure she had fully finished, the venerable matron began to speak.

“Your goal to consolidate all the drow cities is wisely mentioned first. Belgrath is said to hold a portal stone, of course; but the dwendel defenses are formidable, and taking it would cost countless drow lives. Are we prepared to pay that cost now, on the heels of the steep attrition suffered during the usurper’s folly and the violence that secured your glorious return? I think we might be in greatly improved condition to afford that cost after the power of all drow cities is firmly in your hand.”

Hebemarri
Zathria At'Arel
Nimruil
Vyx'aria

 

[Hebemarri]

Hebemarri sat quietly as her fellow high priestess spoke, but as she continued to speak on Belgrath, the dark purple dragon began to grow quite impatient.

“—Your majesty.” Said Hebemarri, as soon as Beksesha finished speaking. “Unlike my sister here, I will speak plainly for the good of the dynasty. I do not believe there is any wisdom in taking Belgrath. In base essence, it is a relic of times past with times encroaching being a far more potent adversary than we could ever hope to match. However, more than that, it is a useful relic for us to leave in stubby dwarven hands.” Hebemarri paused and looked around the room. “Allow me to illustrate.”

With a gesture of her claws, the high priestess called forth shadows that shaped the image of the surface above lands held by the dwarves, drow, and orcs.

“Unlike us, the children of Maelzafan, the dwarves and orcs are quite fond of the surface just as well as the depths.” More shadows formed to represent the split of control over the surface of the spine. “They fight each other constantly, and whittle themselves down without us having to raise a finger. But, if that balance were to be upset, a shift would surely occur.”

The image of shadows then showed all dwarf lands on the surface turning Orc, a portent of a possible future.

“in but a few short decades, we might be forced to deal with the largest orc incursion ever known, with little more than a portal stone and a thinned out army to show for it.” Claws were waved a final time and the image collapsed into wispy shadow that dissolved like a mist.

“I say, your majesty, that in treating with these two particular foes we encourage their hostility with one another. And for our need of slaves. The goblins and rat-men that breed in the cracks of a weakened society are prime lessee creatures to dominate.”

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria was silent while the others spoke, the council immediately splitting into disagreement over how to go about the expansion of the empire.

If we are expanding South and West I don't see much choice except to take Belgrath. Even if we discount the portal stone and the potential benefits of taking the city, pushing a march against Alliria without securing Blegrath is begging for strategic defeat, Zathria said, the words spoken as the seasoned commander she was. This was a game of warfare, marching, and maneuverability.

Alliria's an economic powerhouse and as soon as we move against it, everything from Allir to the Spine is going to be kicked up like a hornet's nest. Leaving an enemy city that can unify under a single banner and harrow our supply lines or worse yet attack the heart of the Queendom - Zar'ahal, Dhunbor, Shay - is not a strategic option, she said. An army with a potential hostile force in its backlines was an army that would be defeated and its homeland sacked and pillaged.