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38th of Winter, 514 AV
Late Evening
Tranaris had taken a reprieve from his normal post. He stood within the confines of his office with a mulled wine in one hand and a pipe in the other. He puffed on the pipe thoughtfully. The elder gentleman seemed to have aged infinitely in the days that had unfolded since the Awakening of the obelisks. The first one had brought with it chaos. Absolute chaos. The wave that had brought several buildings in the lower parts of the city tumbling down and nearly half of it awash with muck had only been the beginning of the city’s troubles that season. His first worry had been that the ships, Zeltiva’s pride, Zeltiva’s life, had been reduced to splinters. Fortunately there had only been minor losses on that front. He took a sip of his wine staring out the window of his office.
“As if the city hasn’t suffered enough.” Tranaris sometimes wondered how badly Zeltiva must have angered the gods for the suffering that had been inflicted upon his people these past years. His recent memory was filled with nothing but woe and hardship. He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth before puffing on the pipe thoughtfully. His office was one of the more elaborate within the Lord of Council’s Office building, Zeltiva’s city hall spared few expenses in the way of pomp and circumstance for its leaders. He cast a glance to the warm fire that burned steadily in the grand fireplace. It was just as he brought his glass up to drink from it again that the sky was illuminated though the night had fallen upon Zeltiva. Tranaris’s old eyes fell upon the spire of light that rocketed forth into the eternal blackness of the night sky not with fear, but with weariness. The rumble that shook the very foundations of Zeltiva that followed barely made the old secretary flinch.
The keening screech filled the air, a noise he likened to rusted gates screaming open for the first time in centuries, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Still, Tranaris Johnson did not flinch. There was only the slightest furrowing of his brow even as the light blinked out of existence heralding another tidal wave from the second awakening. This one…would bring it with so much more destruction than the first.
Tranaris downed the rest of his wine in a few gulps. He turned from the window grabbing the decanter on his desk pouring himself another drink. As he sloshed the wine around in its glass a knocking interrupted his train of thought.
“Come in.” His voice was firm. Someone had to be in this hour of darkness. As soon as the command left his lips in slipped a thin man. He was a middle-aged human with greying hair and dark brown eyes. Tranaris gave him a nod before taking a seat behind his desk.
“Sir.”
“I know. Prepare for the damages. That is all we can do.” The middle-aged man nodded but looked as if he had more to say. Tranaris gave him an arching of a silver eyebrow as he puffed on his pipe.
“There’s more, Sir.”
“Oh? What is it?” The middle-aged man shook his head.
“It is best you see them for yourself, Sir.” Both of the older man’s eyebrow rose up at that.
“Them?” He rose from his desk leaving the glass of wine upon its surface as the middle-aged man gestured for him to follow. He strode out of his office following the man through the halls of the building until they arrived at the lobby of the Lord of Council’s Office. What was waiting there stopped Tranaris dead in his tracks. The pipe slipped from his hand bouncing onto the floor spilling ash onto the marble.
Standing silently, the picture of ghosts conjured from a long forgotten memory, was a woman draped in scarlet robes. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her face obscured by her hood. But Tranaris knew. He knew exactly who she was and who had sent her. As if sensing his presence she tilted her head up though her face remained hidden. Tranaris felt pinned by her unseen gaze.
“It has been quite some time, Tranaris.” Her voice held within it the richness of culture and education. The old secretary found himself warmed by it in spite of winter’s chill. He shivered taking the steps carefully as he made his way down. His associate gave the woman a bow who offered him a nod. Tranaris did the same when he reached the floor to which he received the same courtesy.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Melara?” The woman, presumably this Melara, gave Tranaris a smile.
“You know why I am here.” Yes. Yes he did. Before he could inquire further though she reached into the folds of her robes. Tranaris stiffed and relaxed only when she withdrew a rolled piece of parchment extending it to him. He accepted it unfurling it without hesitation. He arched an eyebrow.
“These are the names then?” Melara nodded. The old man sighed nodding turning to his associate who stepped forward. Tranaris extended the parchment to the man.
“Find them. Bring them here. As for His Honor, the Lord of Council, I will fetch him. He would have wanted to know this anyways.” Without question or hesitation the middle-aged man strode out of the Lord of Council’s office intent on the task that he’d just been given. Tranaris sighed running a hand over his face. He stared at the red robed woman who had gone to stand near one of the grand windows of the office building.
“He is sure about this?” Melara turned from her attention from the city that lay outside the walls of the office compound.
“He is certain of everything he does.” With that Tranaris gave her a bow. While his associate tracked down and gathered the others listed, he would have to fetch the glorious Ignotus Everto. If there was one name he wished hadn’t been listed, it was that one. Still, it was time to set to work.
38th of Winter, 514 AV
Late Evening
Tranaris had taken a reprieve from his normal post. He stood within the confines of his office with a mulled wine in one hand and a pipe in the other. He puffed on the pipe thoughtfully. The elder gentleman seemed to have aged infinitely in the days that had unfolded since the Awakening of the obelisks. The first one had brought with it chaos. Absolute chaos. The wave that had brought several buildings in the lower parts of the city tumbling down and nearly half of it awash with muck had only been the beginning of the city’s troubles that season. His first worry had been that the ships, Zeltiva’s pride, Zeltiva’s life, had been reduced to splinters. Fortunately there had only been minor losses on that front. He took a sip of his wine staring out the window of his office.
“As if the city hasn’t suffered enough.” Tranaris sometimes wondered how badly Zeltiva must have angered the gods for the suffering that had been inflicted upon his people these past years. His recent memory was filled with nothing but woe and hardship. He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth before puffing on the pipe thoughtfully. His office was one of the more elaborate within the Lord of Council’s Office building, Zeltiva’s city hall spared few expenses in the way of pomp and circumstance for its leaders. He cast a glance to the warm fire that burned steadily in the grand fireplace. It was just as he brought his glass up to drink from it again that the sky was illuminated though the night had fallen upon Zeltiva. Tranaris’s old eyes fell upon the spire of light that rocketed forth into the eternal blackness of the night sky not with fear, but with weariness. The rumble that shook the very foundations of Zeltiva that followed barely made the old secretary flinch.
The keening screech filled the air, a noise he likened to rusted gates screaming open for the first time in centuries, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Still, Tranaris Johnson did not flinch. There was only the slightest furrowing of his brow even as the light blinked out of existence heralding another tidal wave from the second awakening. This one…would bring it with so much more destruction than the first.
Tranaris downed the rest of his wine in a few gulps. He turned from the window grabbing the decanter on his desk pouring himself another drink. As he sloshed the wine around in its glass a knocking interrupted his train of thought.
“Come in.” His voice was firm. Someone had to be in this hour of darkness. As soon as the command left his lips in slipped a thin man. He was a middle-aged human with greying hair and dark brown eyes. Tranaris gave him a nod before taking a seat behind his desk.
“Sir.”
“I know. Prepare for the damages. That is all we can do.” The middle-aged man nodded but looked as if he had more to say. Tranaris gave him an arching of a silver eyebrow as he puffed on his pipe.
“There’s more, Sir.”
“Oh? What is it?” The middle-aged man shook his head.
“It is best you see them for yourself, Sir.” Both of the older man’s eyebrow rose up at that.
“Them?” He rose from his desk leaving the glass of wine upon its surface as the middle-aged man gestured for him to follow. He strode out of his office following the man through the halls of the building until they arrived at the lobby of the Lord of Council’s Office. What was waiting there stopped Tranaris dead in his tracks. The pipe slipped from his hand bouncing onto the floor spilling ash onto the marble.
Standing silently, the picture of ghosts conjured from a long forgotten memory, was a woman draped in scarlet robes. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her face obscured by her hood. But Tranaris knew. He knew exactly who she was and who had sent her. As if sensing his presence she tilted her head up though her face remained hidden. Tranaris felt pinned by her unseen gaze.
“It has been quite some time, Tranaris.” Her voice held within it the richness of culture and education. The old secretary found himself warmed by it in spite of winter’s chill. He shivered taking the steps carefully as he made his way down. His associate gave the woman a bow who offered him a nod. Tranaris did the same when he reached the floor to which he received the same courtesy.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Melara?” The woman, presumably this Melara, gave Tranaris a smile.
“You know why I am here.” Yes. Yes he did. Before he could inquire further though she reached into the folds of her robes. Tranaris stiffed and relaxed only when she withdrew a rolled piece of parchment extending it to him. He accepted it unfurling it without hesitation. He arched an eyebrow.
“These are the names then?” Melara nodded. The old man sighed nodding turning to his associate who stepped forward. Tranaris extended the parchment to the man.
“Find them. Bring them here. As for His Honor, the Lord of Council, I will fetch him. He would have wanted to know this anyways.” Without question or hesitation the middle-aged man strode out of the Lord of Council’s office intent on the task that he’d just been given. Tranaris sighed running a hand over his face. He stared at the red robed woman who had gone to stand near one of the grand windows of the office building.
“He is sure about this?” Melara turned from her attention from the city that lay outside the walls of the office compound.
“He is certain of everything he does.” With that Tranaris gave her a bow. While his associate tracked down and gathered the others listed, he would have to fetch the glorious Ignotus Everto. If there was one name he wished hadn’t been listed, it was that one. Still, it was time to set to work.