Memories Of Freedom.

[Ineson]

(Dijam and Campion)

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Woestijn. It was a world of wonder as it was one of mystery set deep in its very foundations where remnants of an ancient civilization, older than the great beyond itself, were embedded well below the surface waiting for the most charismatic of adventurers to find them. Or perhaps these relics of an unknown nature would fall into the hands of someone more malevolent. Only through the passage of time would the story be told and what the significance of these lost treasures would hold for the future of a world cloaked in the darkness of an oppressive wind.

Whether or not the many denizens were aware, they lived according to the rule of the Hramovnik, the High Order of Woestijn. It was considered the absolute. The one supreme function with enough power to rule even over Kings and the like and punish them should they ever abuse their power or anyone else for that fact. One could call the Order a devout follower acting by the will of Arios, the deity of the world, and it was by his will that they carried out their law led by the appointed Pontef, Crex Smiren, a man of equal mystery and yet his ability to perform miracles brought forth a following of once disenchanted hearts bringing the Order to what it was as of present. A massive conglomerate with an army to marvel at and swiftly take down an enemy daring to challenge them.

Crex Smiren was not a man to simply leave himself exposed to matters of a trivial kind. He was too refined of an individual and far up the ladder for such frivolous things. He had people under him, people under them, and so on. Everyone had their part to play in maintaining order within their ranks and in that of the world. The endgame or so it seemed. But, there was a flaw in their carefully laid plans. A prey worth hunting above all else. The Videns Tenebras, mages, those born with the gift of bending magic to their will. It was these individuals who, according to the Order, were a flawed existence. Something in direct opposition to their worshiped deity and because of that, they were an enemy of Woestijn and must be eradicated at all costs. Mages were unclean. Their sole purpose was to disrupt order and for that reason alone they were to be captured and killed.

For the most part, she had managed to stay off the grid and one step ahead of the Order but tranquility was a fleeting dream and she was certain they would come after her again and again. Safety seemed unobtainable. It was much easier in those bygone days when she had her family to talk to, strategize how best to maintain their secret. Now, all she had was herself and the rampant thoughts of dread of when she might next encounter her mortal enemy. Today? Tomorrow? The next? Often her mind could not retain a calmness just to relax and take a breath. Regardless, Araama Usome would not give in to the negativity. No matter who the Order sent or when, the young woman would steel herself and find that resolve to ensure she saw another day. She had a right to live freely without judgment cast by others. Her current place of occupation was that far north, well past the meadows of lavender. Beyond the sweeping hibiscus valleys which ran into the remains of a ruined long forgotten kingdom and over the vast mountains of Niffirg, on the other side lie a somewhat freedom. Somewhere the Order had not yet reached its claws nor any other soul save for Araama. An untarnished breathing land of lush green trees going for countless miles and enormously tall they were stretching to the azure, violet, and pink morning sky where a few clouds floated about. She thought of this place as some far away from the normalcy of civilization. This land did not have a name unfortunately but it was filled with animals and beasts, the latter she encountered very soon after her journey here. The beasts usually kept to themselves though unless loud noises disturbed them. Araama made a mental note to keep her moving around to a minimum unless she wanted another battle and her energy was best saved for more pressing times. In the whole of this secrecy, she made it a home of sorts and became a protector in many ways using only what she needed to off the land and of the fortnight since her arrival, the young woman explored a bit more everyday.
She figured it would take about several months, if not more, to thoroughly explore the far away, her own name for it. If she was left alone, it might be a feat to be accomplished. If she were lucky. She doubted it very much. She could feel it deep within her that they were coming after her again. Until then, she would try to make the best of it.

Her mornings were quiet. They consisted of the sun creeping over the horizon of the Niffirg Mountains washing over the trees and while the morning fog dissipated leaving behind droplets of moisture that trailed down from the leaves. One of Araama's earlier discoveries brought her to a lake with water a blue topaz color similar to her own eyes. She made use of the lake for things necessary and to simply admire the beauty of it during sunset reminiscent of her upbringing. She, her brother Meschef, and their parents belonged to a great kingdom once. They weren't royalty, rather stewards of the royal family, guardians almost. It was a wondrous time. Her father Egam, the sword and shield of the King with Meschef following in his footsteps. Her mother Taita, a lady in waiting for the Queen, and Araama….she and the prince were childhood friends betrothed to one another in time. His name was Lanolyt Turin. The only person outside her family she loved and even after all these years would probably still love but he was lost to her as were their mundane days together because what the royal family did not know was that Araama and her family were Videns Tenebras, a secret they would keep to their graves. She herself knew what it entailed from a very young age. They were enemies of the Order, Woestijn too. They could do things of a heresy nature considered unnatural and their very existence spelled disaster. It was her parents who burned into her and Meschef's mind to keep hidden their signifying mark of the mage: three black diamonds joined together. Araama's was on her left shoulder. They must never reveal their origins and naturally neither did.

The foursome went on as if nothing were the matter. They lived harmoniously in a way until a time came when she was in the company of the Queen and her mother when a beast attacked. Even to this day, Araama had no explanation why she reacted or it could not have even been her rather something else inside. Her power burst out of her destroying the beast. While she effectively saved the lives of her mother and the Queen, she sealed the fate of her family. The engagement was broken naturally and the Order got wind of the incident. They soon fled the kingdom leaving Araama never to say goodbye to the boy she loved, surely now in the world of men. Every now and again, she thought of him, his family. What they must be doing now and whether he had ascended to King. His face was clear as day still as were those of her family. As time passed, the memories did not fade away. They only became stronger. Among them, rage. Araama hated the Hramovnik. Everything they stood for was in direct conflict with her beliefs and above all they wanted the destruction of her kind for reasons she found selfish. It was no reflection of the deity Arios rather their need to control the world.

The woodlands of the far away were her haven, the woman with piercing blue round eyes and full lips that were a natural red. She had a slender somewhat curvy build with shoulder long hair as white as snow and a round face. Dark eyelashes went upward and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Araama sat on her knees with just a sheer white cloak hung to her otherwise naked form. As her head turned from side to side, she examined her surroundings near the lake of which there was the obvious clearing and sunlight peeked between the trees. It was the quiet of the morning where only the faint sound of songbirds echoed throughout the area. Turning her attention ahead, her eyes focused on the water before her and her reflection upon the water. She placed her hands in it, lowering herself some. She then cupped a handful of water washing it across her face before her hands went to remove the cloak allowing it to fall soundlessly against the ground. In the next moment, Araama was in the water, the shallow end, standing. With her eyes closed, she washed her body eventually taking some water to run through her hair. Her pointed ears twitched a bit. She heard sounds. Quickly looking the direction they came, the woman with ivory skin found a deer darting in and out the trees soon disappearing. More than one moving would have caused alarm, that meant they were fleeing from something. She relaxed as much as she could, finishing and returning to the bank letting the cool air touch her damp skin before putting the cloak back on. Something didn't feel right. She had woken up feeling out of sorts and it did not change.

Walking back to her encampment, the wetness on her body seemed to virtually fade away. True, it wasn't much of a home in the traditional sense but it did well for her needs. A small cavern probably once a home to some animal. It did not lead anywhere else so Araama made it her home with her meager supplies. Pieces of wood sat together collectively in the middle of the rocks and hovering over it, small embers danced along her fingertips then dropped on the wood consuming it bit by bit. Warmth filled the tiny hovel and the woman sat down near a rustic satchel thoughtfully. The Order was becoming keen to the presence of mages strangely. In her travels, she had heard rumors that they had some weapon capable of sensing magic and if there were any truth to it, trouble was behind every corner. She would have to be careful how she used her power. The crackling flames reflected in her eyes. Other rumors depicted a haven for mages where an uprising was planned. If she knew where it was, she could go there. But, what would she do there? Join the resistance? Did Meschef? Or had some other fate taken him from her? She sighed. Staring at the fire a bit more, Araama reached in her bag for the leaf covered berries, eating a few before taking out a change of clothes. A garment with the inner dress white and short around the upper thighs with baggy off the sleeves off the shoulders. The outer part of the dress was more resembling a long flair skirt coming tied around the bosom area and left open to cascade outward long around the feet. The material was made of a black velvet. Before putting it on, she put on her undergarments and long boots adding a red hooded cloak to conceal her mark, not that there was anyone around to see it. Still. Maybe today she would explore more of the far away. See what else the land had to offer or to try to keep moving. No, exploring sounded much more appealing.

Grabbing her satchel to sling it over her shoulder, she drew the cloak over her head and kicked dirt over the flames to put the fire out. She then left her home walking along the trail between the trees. Her ears twitched again. Out of the bushes came more animals running in a southbound direction, away from her. This alarmed the woman. It wasn't a few either, more like a whole herd. Araama moved to the side to avoid getting hit watching them flee. No, something was not right, she told herself. What could it have been though?
​

 

[Campion]

Lanolyt looked over his Aerie. The nine warriors flying dragonback with him were just awaiting his signal. Absentmindedly, he patted the back of his great steed, Rachenuminax, who rumbled impatience back and up to his rider.
They were about to depart to remove what the High Order had named the greatest threat to Woestijn. The orders had even come from the Pontef himself, and Crex Smiren rarely took a direct hand, so he must think it urgent.
They were to hunt down a heretic. A blasphemer against all that was natural. A mage.
He should feel proud and eager to carry out such a directive and yet as Lan looked out over the sunrise, he saw a meteor cross the path of the rising sun. That was as ill an open as one could have.
The thing was, over the last month his previously staunch loyalty and support of the High Order had been as wounded as a boar with a spear to the gut.
His father had taken him out hunting 3 weeks agone. Ostensibly to get away from the castle, the ever present reminder of his mother's recent death. Normally, his father would have taken a Wyvern, but instead he'd elected to ride with his son, arguing that if he was not safe with the best rider in the land, where was he safe?
Lanolyt knew he was not the best, there were two others who excelled beyond his own competence in the skies, but they were of his Aerie and chose not to make an issue of it.
When he had flown with his father, however, it was only due to Rache's own instincts that he'd not plowed into a cliff. For his father had delivered the stunning awful news that his mother's death was no accident. His father had had her secretly exhumed and the corpse examined by an alchemist friend who had pronounced leeth toad poison. The effects only showed on the corpse after five days when extremities refused to decay.
Further, his father, his king, had told him that evidence pointed to Vulivil Clolno, the High Order's own representative at the castle. It could not be proven, of course, but there was enough to banish doubt.
His father had revealed a plan then to Lan. A plan only they two knew the whole of.
Over the course of the following week, blind slaves moved items under the eye of himself or his father.
When all was complete, the kingdom treasury had been emptied of all but a pair of coppers. It was all secreted far away near the border in a cache hidden both artfully and magically.
The cache had apparently been a secret handed down for generations.
The flight with his father had yielded other information. The priestess of Meilikki had been murdered, and necromancy was suspected. Worship of Meilikki was not openly discouraged...after all, she was the goddess of nature, health, crops, and mothers. But neither was that worship allowed to be on the same order of magnitude as the worship of Arios.
Lan had been puzzled. Who would want to harm the priestess of Meilikki? That temple kept no gold or silver? Offerings were of fine fruits, vegetables and volunteered time.
His father had hugged him tighter as they flew and gave answer, "One who wishes to hide the true anathema against nature."
"Tenebras? Mages?" Lan had responded.
And his father had shocked him by blaspheming, "Mages take their power only through nature. It is necromancy that would gain. The attention of the priestess, so someone shut her mouth permanently."

Lan had trouble with what his father had said, was he mad? He knew his father, and Valamarth never ever lied... but...necromancy? It seemed insane.
And now, weeks later, here he was, perched on his steed as he prepared to go forth to slay what the High Order claimed was the real enemy. He could see his father watching from the high tower, and he saw behind him Clolno, as always in his black robes that showed only part of his face. The man always smelled of spoiled cheese and rotting meat too.

Well, he'd spent enough time in reverie. He prepared to take off when Filonra, one of his riders signaled him.
She ran over in concern. "Grexy is acting sick. I'm worried he ate something bad."
Lan was not pleased. Filonra was a light weight rider, barely 5ft, and on the slim Grex, was easily the fastest of all. She was his best scout. Still, they had always maintained the rule that you care for your dragon first. "Of course you must stay and see to her wellbeing. If she improves you can follow after as you know the Northern coordinates."

She looked close to tears, "I feel we're letting you down my Prince." Her voice shaking.
Lan strode to her and took her shoulders in his strong hands. He kissed her forehead. "Dear sister, your bravery and commitment are known to all. This is just a reminder to us all that no plan goes perfectly. Be well and ensure Grex is well also."

She straightened her shoulders and saluted him with a snap and he returned it. She was a cousin, once removed, nobility, but not near the line to the throne. But family was often where you had to rely.

Recounting his steed he waved his hand and in unison all but one dragon spread their wings and all others fled the rooftop launching pad at the signal.

The care of dragons was a community effort. Those fleeing the area did so in an orderly fashion out of respect for the gale force winds about to erupt over the stones. Hide-carers, feeders, veterinary assistants, and yes, the dung removers without whom having the great beasts would be most unpleasant. To be assigned to work with them, one had to volunteer and to study. The Drake Dung Corps knew from the consistency and scent of the fewmets whether a Drake was well or in need of assistance or diet change and there were regular meetings with the Drake Fodder Corps and the Drake Vet Corps. All served time in each area, and were frequently taken to air by the handlers and riders. Each Dragon was a precious rare resource, featured on the flag, royal seal and in parades. No Dragon would ever harm a human unless under the direction of its rider, and Dragons often were used to find lost children and gently retrieve them.

As the launch area fell away beneath him, shrinking quickly, Lan's eye appreciated the valley below and the mountain range just behind the castle. The rectangles and oblongs of crops and pastures made a colorful patchwork below and only when he looked through Rache's amazing vision could he see the tiny human figures waving up at them in pleasure and appreciation.
Then he settled down on Rache's back, cradled in the natural saddle between two tall spiked scutes. He noted how the armored scutes had been sanded and polished for his comfort and reminded himself he needed to host some appreciation event for those who made his flights possible and safe.
All the dragons banked in unison and continued through a light cloud base North. Armor crafted from thick tanned fish skins repelled the moisture that naturally collected, and with padded quilting below, kept the riders safe from temperatures that could plunge far below freezing.
Four over six hours they flew, then rested on a natural mesa of a small range. Here there had been little soil, and the rocky surface, while not smooth, was sufficient for the dragons to gain some respite. There was also a spring that fed a small pool. The water in the pool was poison to most creatures, but the dragons enjoyed the flavor of the sulphites. Lan moved to a boulder and used the pointed hilt of his dagger to scratch a mark to reassure Filonra that they had stopped here as planned.
Of course, if she asked her, Grex's sensitive nose would inform her of the fact.
As they rested, the riders ate some travel food and sipped water with just a hint of wine in it to help keep it fresh.

When his Sky Sergeant Collinara decided all were well stretched and rested, she bowed to Lan, "Highness, we are ready if you wish to give the order or I can."
Lan worked hard to keep a smile off his face at her chiding tone.
Missing an arm, the old veteran of hundreds of years of campaigns would always know more than he did about the best use of his Aerie. He suspected she just considered them all on loan to her. He might be the Prince, but she was Captain and best Pilot and he'd be a fool to ignore her learned direction. So he hopped up and gave her a small bow, waving his hand to the side in agreement.
Her voice rang out over the mesa, "All roight, you slackers! On ya feet and claws! We got a date with a heretic, and I will have the hide of the rider who makes me wait to get home after tomorrow, so look alive!"
In reality, these riders were the elite, and knew their business, but if they didn't have Sgt. Lefty Colly haranguing them it just would not have felt right.

Aloft again they spread out as they got closer. No sense giving a good target for an area spell. They were just starting to descend towards the furthest Woodlands when each of the Drake's looked back over its shoulder.
Flapping separately to catch up came Grex, and her rider looked ready to have a fit. Grex gave out a mighty roar that shook the skies, and then glided in. As his cousin drew close, she gasped over the wind. "Treachery! Valamarth assassinated, castle taken over by High Order. Dead are fighting! Long live King Lanolyt!"
The stunned riders began to circle their dragons looking for a place to land.
Lanolyt felt numb. His father's suspicions and worst fears had come to bear. He had lost his father, his king, so soon after his mother. He was in exile and likely under an edict of death.
Gradually the numbness ebbed as Rache circled lower. A righteous fury filled him, but he must not lose control.

A field shuddered under the impact of the gargantuan bodies. He was about to release them all from their vows. He could not expect them to join him in exile. So he took a deep breath, about to speak when a teasing voice interrupted.
"Now I sure hope that our beloved King is not going to begin his reign with some tomfoolery about us not needing to join him in his misery. Well ptui!" His Sergeant spat on the ground.
One by one, the dragons lowered their heads in homage and the dismounting warriors knelt with their lances to the sky.
His Sergeant knelt as well, and whispered, "though it be only us who answer the call, I know not a soul here will yield to such foul betrayal and lies. So say what you will one and all, but I say, Hail King Lanolyt, and Meilikki save Woestijn."
In a chorus all echoed her words and Lan had to swallow a horse sized lump in his throat as he looked upon his stout companions, Elf and Drake together.
"I know I do not deserve such loyalty and friendship, but in the name of Woestjin and for her salvation, I gratefully accept. For the moment though, think not of me as King, but as a man in trouble who seeks earnest advice. I ask for that now."
Each of the men and women arrayed in a rough circle before him paused and each dug deep in thought.
The most junior of them, just counted adult not long ago spoke first. "Everything I believed seems to have been wrong...ok, not quite everything. But the Order, the will of the gods... I think that the people are going to need something to believe in. Something that has not betrayed them.
I don't know about this Tenebras stuff...but if they are using undead, well anything has to be better than that."
A strident voice cut in. "Perhaps this is not approved by the high order, but just a rogue bishop."
All was silent as each weighed the unlikelyness of that.
Each tossed in their opinion, and at the end his Sergeant said, "Lan...you're a good lad. You care and you try hard. That's more than one can say for most rulers. So here is my hand...only have the one, y'know, but it's yours to use."
One by one the others joined hands in solid affirmation.

Lan inhaled and nodded. It fell to him. "Filonra and Colly, you take to the skies. I want our fastest and most experienced to have eyes above. The rest of us will proceed on foot side by side to cover more area."
Backs were slapped and hands shaken and each took position. They advanced at a trot and all the animals fled before the great drakes.
When Rache grunted, Lan called a halt.
"Hello. I am Prince...King Lanolyt. If you come out now to parlay, you have my word of safe passage. Let us consider options instead of just fighting."

 

[Ineson]

Something spooked the animals. That much Araama was certain of as she continued to move out of the way of the creatures. A sudden chill made its presence known throughout her body. Her eyes narrowed and she scrutinized her surroundings turning her head ever so slightly to the right and then the left before settling in the direction of south, where the animals fled toward. Meaning one thing. Whatever it was they were running from could only have come from three directions. North, east, or west. This also meant those areas might all be set with a blockage hindering passage. What was it? She bit her bottom lip in contemplation. Monsters went on a usual rampage. Discretion, depending on the beast, wasn't their strong suit. Case and point, when the young woman arrived, her encounter with several. Their goal seemed to be callously wanting to bash her head in rather than sneak around. Still, one could never be too careful. She didn't want to go rushing to the source, finding an unpleasant surprise awaiting her. Something was just not right. Suddenly, Araama's head lifted to the sky where, even with the covering of the trees, she noticed two rather large shadows overhead flying. If she were near the clearing of the lake, she could make out exactly what they were but, the woman's eyes continuously stared.

"Dragons…?" Had she been mistaken? She found her back pressed to a tree now, her legs moving on their own. Then, the woman moved again. Her attention was captured by the spectacle. She was positive that what she saw were dragons and it brought her memories back to her homeland, the kingdom she grew up in. She only knew of that place as keepers of dragons where riders were born and bred. That begged the question, what were they doing here and they couldn't possibly be from her former kingdom. But, why? Her heart sank. Had the Order done something to the kingdom, even worse the royal family, and of course him? There were too many questions in her mind and not enough answers. Either way, this had the Order written all over it and there was no way she would be captured let alone let her life be forfeit. She would fight whoever dared come here and make them pay. Her fingers clenched together tightly.

"Damn the Order." Now, her ears twitched at the sound of heavy thudding coming from seemingly all directions. Could it be more dragons? Araama closed her eyes. It was only her. She had to do what she needed to and worry about the consequences later. Me or them, whatever they are. She could see it in her mind. The ocean water as the waves flowed calmly. All around the ocean it was a darkness, an empty nothingness from which there was no beginning nor an ending. The waves began to crash against one another in a fight for dominance before one single drop of water fell upward, becoming swallowed by the darkness. Araama's eyes reopened slowly, the hood of her cloak dropped around the back of her neck letting her hair flow freely.

Any emotion she once held drained away from her face leaving the same emptiness as felt by the vision she conjured. Bright blue droplets of water seeped from her fingertips running down her fingernails and between them the source being her palm. Gradually water built up forming two fist-sized orbs staying firmly in the woman's palms. Her heart began to pound in her chest. For a while it was all she could hear then a sonorous voice broke through her concentration although it came across in muffled words. It was someone. They said, hello. They knew she was there. The so-called rumor about the Order came to mind, them having a weapon to sense magic. The someone was a male and Araama only picked up King and if she were to come out there was a promise of safe passage and options other than fighting. She held her breath. Safe passage to Istok, the Order Capital? Ludicrous. The only option was to fight.

The woman walked forward leaving behind the safety of the tree. Soon the orbs left her palms to circle around her head growing larger. Araama revealed herself to the open of the newcomers, arms crossed over her chest and head tilted downward but not before briefly scanning the opposition. She was clearly outnumbered. Dragonriders….and. Emotion returned to her face focusing on the faces of those she saw, particularly one more familiar above the rest. Him. She was taken aback, startled, nearly losing her composure. Was it….Lanolyt? Her Lanolyt….after all this time? Surely it was him. That once boyish face retained familiarity though now he was a man, as she suspected if he had been living and of course he was. He was the King. Did that mean his father had died? "Lan." His name left her mouth softly.

Just more questions instead of answers but the woman was in a predicament. They undoubtedly were here for her, hostile or not. Old interests did not matter. Her life did.

"If you are here for the Order, I can tell you I have no intention of going with you," This was not how she envisioned seeing him again if fate had permitted it. "I will fight you. That I can promise."​

 

[Campion]

(For Lan's image, look to my avatar pic)
Lanolyt was no mage. But he was the rightful ruler, placed by Meilikki and so maintained a close bond with the land. So long as he respected nature and the natural order, the land gifted him with it's own life force. It made him near inexhaustible as long as we was upon it.
He waited for the mage to make themselves known.
He heard her voice...that of a woman and the comment about the High Order twisted in his gut. Two weeks ago the answer would have been a resolute Yes. But all had turned on its head in such a short time.
So he waited and instructed his Aerie to hold and not attack. And from the woods she flowed, like a ghostly cat in the shadows.
Definitely a she, and...familiar. She was young as was he, but fully formed with the blessed appealing curves of a woman.
It was not until he saw her after hearing her that he realized with whom he dealt. No one else could turn a situation back on itself with such accusation!
His guard were keyed up as if ready to explode, but he punctured the tension with a word.
"Araama? Really? NOW you choose to appear? After all my prayers when you disappeared... wondering how I had angered or failed you?
You are the condemned mage?!"
Suddenly he began to laugh. The rediculousness of it all. "Y-YOU! YOU ARE THE ONE!"
His troopers began to look at him in worry and his cousin laid an encouraging hand bravely upon his shoulder.
Tears now streaming from his mouth, he was laughing and crying all at once. "Truly the gods are perverse..." he gasped to regain his breath and looked up at her.
"I was with the Order before, but I have just this hour received news of treachery from the Bishop of Woestijn. Did he act without knowledge of the Pontef? I am not sure, but I do now know the meaning of magical heresy...and it is necromancy. The 'Bishop', assigned to guard over the flock, is a demon wolf in shepherd's garb. He has assassinated my father and likely my mother before. He has raised the dead to kill the living and declared me outlaw.
So...Araama, based on information from my father, while I am conflicted, unless the Pontef were to repudiate the actions of his own Bishop and send aid to restore Woestijn to me and my people, I find myself now the enemy of the supposed High Order.
As for you, for years I ached for word if you. Not understanding how you could just disappear. No one told me a thing. But now I understand. If you were known as Videns Tenebras, your family would have been in peril.
So you are the mage... and I was sent to deal with you, because if either of us died in battle then the high order would benefit by having one more obstacle out of the way to their complete domination. At least that is what I now think. I still wonder in my gut whether the Pontef, who is supposed to be the icon of good in this world, could really be behind what has happened to my family. If he is not then he is totally blinded by his Bishop and I must see to repairing the damage.
I cannot swear to you a full Alliance. But based on what I have seen, neither I nor any who follow me will hunt you. And if the High Order supports what has been done, then I will know that the lies and Corruption go all the way to the top.
Araama, will you trust me. I personally assured your safety. Does my word no longer hold weight?
Let me send a scout to the Pontef with the news of what has occurred. Let him state his reply and whether this treachery to Woestijn was against his will or if he supports it. Then will I know where I must stand.
My father...he did not believe the mages were inherently evil. Too powerful perhaps and subject to abuse that power...but that then holds true for a Prince or King...or maybe a Pontef..."
He paused to think.
"We do have one advantage, which is mobility, but my aerie is tired. I propose on the morrow, I send a scout to the Pontef under the flag of parlay. Let me learn the intent of the order...and let me pray to Meilikki to make clear where the land stands on this issue, for her High Priestess was murdered.
No matter what, my kingdom is in shambles and under a usurper. Pursuing Mages is no longer of value.
In fact, I am willing to commit to this. Should you assist me in regaining Woestijn, I will pardon you and declare that any Mage who swears loyalty to Woestijn shall in its borders be immune to the Ban.
Let the Pontef chew on that as his reward if he has merely been negligent."
He let the idea sink in.
"I knew you once. I wish the chance to know you again. I offer my hand in oath. Will you take it?"