The Masked City (Sylvene & Erebus)

[Sylvene]

The Emissary waited patiently, pulling his traveling cloak around his body as a harsh gust of desert wind bellowed across the barren sands. It was one of the hottest days of the season, the harsh yellow sun glaring down at the line of people outside the city gates. War had come to the lands and now refugees from all over the Three Kingdoms fled to the far corners of the world in a bid to escape the onslaught of violence. The Emissary was, of course, not among the desperate. His tall, regal posture had him standing out from the crowd, his trimmed goatee and fair skin suggesting a man of means and wealth, a rare sight in such desperate times. He'd traveled far from his kingdom on the eastern coast all the way south and yet his coin purse still hung heavy in the inner linings of his cloak. Not like the wretches that surrounded him.

It seemed as though every race on the continent was represented in the line to the city gates. Dargonian's, Salatime's, Tahurovian's...he could pick them out as easily as apples and oranges, all of them with hope in their eyes as they looked upon the walls of Tera, one of a few independent cities whom answered to no King. There were many stories that surrounded the Masked City of Tera and it's enigmatic ruler. Tales of dark magic, blood sacrifice and secret societies, that the reason everyone from Tera wore a mask was to make it easier to spy upon the people and make them disappear. The Emissary had no time for such superstitious nonsense and knew that the only real reason Tera remained as it were was because it was where the Merchants and Bankers kept their gold, far from the eyes of greedy kings who would seek to abuse the access to such wealth.

It was precisely why the Emissary was here, after all.

Without warning, the large wooden doors to the city began to open, the creaking and grinding of the machinery behind the gates causing the ground to rumble and shake. All around him, people began to rise to their feet and press forward in an attempt to get through the opening gates. Cries and calls of many tongues echoed around the Emissary, offerings of flesh and coin, calls for mercy and help while others simply called for everyone to push forward.

A trumpeted warning silenced the refugees and the marching of military steel replaced the noise. A group of soldiers clad in dark crimson armor and wearing masks of gold marched down the path towards the Emissary. Standing taller at the approach of the soldiers, he made to speak before being cut off by the muffled voice of the one he presumed was the captain of the troops.

"Sigward Elfienstien. Emissary from King Harvgard. The Masked Queen has requested your presence"

Taken aback by the information given, Sigward could only comply as he stepped towards the soldiers. The rounded golden masks hid their faces and any expression, leaving it impossible for Sigward to read any emotions. The muffled voice from behind the mask wasn't much help either, all of the soldiers looking exactly the same as they timely marched Sigward up towards the open gates and past the crowd of refugees.

Magic. It had to be...how else were they able to see and speak to him? Sigward did his best to put it all to memory, making mental notes to give to his king upon his return home. All around him, people of Tera busied themselves with their everyday lives and all of them wore a mask. Even the children, though they wore far less fancy masks than that of the adults. While the young ones wore masks of simple wood and paper, the adults wore masks wore of a royal ball. Some were outlandish with feathers and gems, while others were molded from precious metals. It was an unnatural sight and despite the heat of the desert sun, Sigward felt a shiver down his spine.

The royal palace of Tera stood atop a hill overlooking the city. Looking more like a temple than a palace, it was terribly spartan compared to the grand castles and palaces within the three kingdoms. Sigward felt a swelling of pride at that, puffing his chest out and giving one of the soldiers a smirk before remembering that there blank masks would give him no reaction.

Stopping at the open palace doors, the soldier, whom Sigward assumed had been the one to speak before, motioned for the man to continue without them "Go. The Queen awaits within"

Licking his parched lips, Sigward continued into the palace, his eyes looking about at the plain stone walls. There was nothing to indicate this was a palace, no ornate designs or statues, no paintings of famous battles or royal armaments...just torches lighting the way down the winding halls. Eventually the hall opened up in a large circular room, a raised platform at the center which looked out into the desert surrounding the city. The air was hot and humid, tempting Sigward to remove his cloak for some relief from the heat.

Sitting above him on the raised platform a pair of large jungle cats lounged lazily, golden collars wrapped around their necks, their gazes slowly turning to Sigward as he entered the chamber. Standing alongside them, a pair of young looking attendants leaned against wicked looking spears with sharp, jagged blades. They wore half masks, revealing their youthful feminine features and tempting smiles as they looked down upon Sigward in amusement.

"I see our guest has arrived"

Sigward whirled around in shock, hand going for his dagger, heart thumping in his chest as he found himself face to face with the Queen of Tera. She stood behind him at the entrance he'd just walked though, a smirk upon her lips as she observed Sigward. She dressed in surprisingly sparse clothing, a black piece of cloth tied loosely around one hip, revealing a surprisingly toned stomach and chest that was tied behind a black gold undergarment. Shockingly pale skin was covered in a majestic tapestry of tattoos, running up her leg and along her hip and stomach, to her shoulder and down her right arm and hand. Her golden mask shone bright in the light, blood red lips curled in amusement at Sigward's stare. Long dark hair fell down to her waist.

"And I suppose you assumed that I would be covered in heavy robes and fur despite living in the middle of a desert?" She taunted him, walking past and up to her raised platform between her bodyguards and cats, a simple cushioned seat presented to her. Leaning back against the plush cushions, the Queen watched Sigward much like her cats did, with violet eyes glimmering with a predatory light "Now speak, Sigward, and do not bore me with pleasantries. Tell me what your King wants...and why I should grant it to him"

Sigward took a step forward, pausing as one of the cats rose from its seated position to stretch, before speaking up "Your Majesty. As you are...aware, I bring word from King Havgard. You see it is only a matter of time before this war between kingdoms is over. Dragonia has superior troops and position coming in from the East, and while there is a valiant effort of resistance, it is only a matter of time before we see only One kingdom remaining" Pausing for effect, Sigward raised his hands "Therefore, I come with an offer to you...join now and reap the rewards of our conquest or burn along with everythi-ARGGH!"

As Sigward spoke, the shadows from the edges of the chamber began to curl around his body, slithering up clothing like writhing snakes. Constructing around his limbs, they brought the emissary down to his knees as the Queen and her bodyguards continued to watch in silence as Sigward whimpered on the floor, flexing his muscles in an attempt to break the shadows hold.

"Oh, were you finished?"

The Queen rose elegantly from her seat, looking down at Sigward twisting on the floor "I grant you some words of wisdom, dear Emissary, before I send you off. The power of monarchs is as solid as the desert sands, constantly shifting. You may be right that these are the final days of the three kingdoms, that soon it shall all be ruin and ash...but what will your king do should the merchants stop selling him steel and weapons? If the banks cut off their financial support? Does your warrior king know what it means to have his currency become worthless? We no longer live in such barbaric times of fire and steel. Ours is a civilised age of trade and commerce...a lesson your king shall learn soon enough"

Turning away from the man whimpering on the ground, the Queen looked out to the desert and spoke "Take him out to the desert and leave him. Should he survive or perish, our message shall be clear enough..."

 

[Erebus]

The Masked City of Tera. A fable, a legend and standing tall before her.

Cloaked in plain travelers garb, most of the nomad's lower face was swathed in cloth to protect her from the sun. Her hood was pulled low, the shadows meeting at the edges to hide her appearance from bloodthirsty wanderers. Her eyes peered up from beneath her dusty hood, her gaze rising, climbing until the harsh glare of the sun blinded her. She lowered her gaze to the ever growing crowd amassed outside the heavy gates. Everyone was here, some cradling babes swaddled in nothing but ribbons. She spied a few caravans decorated in symbols. One bore a thin crane woven with stitched lotuses; a horned creature from the deep seas swam on a ripped mat of blue; a flame sparked from a claw, a serpent with legs danced on green. From lands so far away, she wondered why they would brave the unrelenting desert in the first place.

They would never get in. Not all of them. Not with their coins nor with their meager belongings. The nomad knew the truly desperate would offer quite literally everything - their children, their freedom, for a chance at sanctuary. She pursed her lips, banishing those thoughts to the wind. She continued to scan the walls. A tall man stood apart from the crowd. He stank of superiority, of privilege and disdain. The nomad eyed him carefully. He had no qualms showing off his status, whatever it was, and it was clear to her that he did not like what he saw. He took stock of the mob like one might with grazing cattle. But most importantly, his coin purse looked fat and full and her's lay somewhere buried deep in the desert.

When the gates swung open, the storm began. Everything moved at once and the sands shifted and rumbled beneath the pounding feet. There were papers flying, documents for admission and valuable belongings being flaunted but nobody was getting in. It seemed they knew better than to force their way into the city. The noise was almost deafening, the rabble clamoring around and over each other until the trumpets and the appearance of the masked guards effectively silenced the commotion. It seemed the man's self-importance was warranted as he was marched straight into the city. The guards didn't even flinch or look toward the wide-eyed refugees and once they disappeared back through the doors, then began the inspection.

The nomad lingered on the outside, scuffing the sand childishly, her mind was distant and on the man now deep in the city. He was here for something and she'd heard the soldier. An audience with the Queen herself. Of course, the woman was as mysterious as her city, if not more so. Whispers of her beauty counteracted the harsh laughter of the rumors that she kept herself young by drinking the blood of virgin girls. Of course, the nomad herself had snorted at such barbaric claims - that sort of magic was preposterous and something born from fairy tales. But she wanted to meet the Queen, for reasons kept close to her heart.

It was quiet amidst the thunder of sound, but she heard it. Muffled noises and a solid thump. The nomad turned toward the east side of the wall, catching the tail end of a guard's overcoat. Walking over, she stopped a few feet from the lump of a person. The man had been stripped of his clothes and purse and without it, he looked weak; small and insignificant. He was huddled up and shivering, his goatee coated in sand. The refugees paid little attention to the man left with nothing. He was one of them now, and he'd find no mercy from them nor from the harsh heat. He would die in a matter of hours, of that she was sure. Still, she walked to him, prodding his body with her thick boot. The man flinched and looked at her, his eyes wide. He groaned.

"You met with her?"

Another groan.

"The Masked Queen?" She prompted. The man nodded weakly so the nomad squatted. She hoped he could talk for she had no water to spare. "What did she look like?" He remained quiet, and the nomad sighed. She pulled the cloth away from her mouth and threw back her hood, wincing as the sun began to beat down on her exposed skin. A slight wind ruffled through her hair streaked with white but all the man could do was stare, not at her hair, but at her face. On the left half of her face, twin rivers of ink twisted down from beneath her eye, trickling all the way down to her neck, tapering into sharp points. Even so, it was not the tattoos but her eye. It was a pure, milky white and jagged scars could be seen just beneath the black ink. Her other eye was a dark brown and it was with this eye did she pin a careful glance on the man.

"See no evil," she shrugged. "Hear no evil, speak no evil." At that, the man began to speak, recounting his brief visit with the Queen, never taking his eyes off her own blind one. When he was done and there was nothing else left for the man to say, she stood. Shrugging apologetically, she pulled her hood up and her cloak back around her face, his cries landing on deaf ears as she trudged away, her hands deep in her satchel. A second thought and she threw him her flask. There was next to no water left, but it was the most she could do for him now. The Queen, she heard, brooked no mercy for her victims.

With a furrowed brow, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth in quiet contemplation. She knew that the gates would not be open for much longer. Only a handful of refugees would be allowed in and even then, those with carts and wealth, not families, would be invited into the City built on blood and shadows.

With her mind made, she withdrew something from her pouch. A tarnished half-mask, surprisingly ornate for something so plain. She fitted it over the bridge of her nose and took in a deep breath.

Over head, the vultures began to hiss.

 

[Sylvene]

"I see your diplomatic grace hasn't lost it's edge, my Queen."

With her gaze still set on the wide desert outside her city walls the Queen of Tera smiled at the sound of the old, rough voice behind her. There were a handful of people in her court who would dare to speak to her in such an audacious terms and the telltale scrape of a wood across the smooth stone floor of her throne room gave the speaker away before a hunched over figure appeared in the Queen's peripheral vision. Atlas Gustine was Tera's Head Librarian and Historian, a disfigured old man who prefered his books over people. Life had not been kind to the poor man who had dared ask the wrong questions in his youth but in the employee of the Queen had found himself filled with renewed purpose.

Hobbling to the Queen's side the librarian barely reached her shoulders. Wrapped from head to toe in soft white fabrics to hide the scars of his past the librarian looked more akin to a Tahurovian priest than a scholar. His left hand gripped a short wooden cane to help support his body, one leg having been cut away and replaced with a clawed wooden replacement, and his golden circular sun mask gleamed brightly in the light of the desert sun "Let us hope that the beasts finish the bastard off before he makes it out of the sand. It'll be that much easier to explain when the next emissary comes knocking."

The Queen didn't mind Atlas's coarse way of speaking. So many of her subjects worked to keep up appearances around her that the older man's lack of civility was a breath of fresh air "We have nothing to fear from Dragonia at this time. After failing in their surprise offensive against the Kingdom they have found themselves locked in a war of stalemates. Pride is now what remains on the line for those two" The Queen replied with a slight shrug of her broad shoulders "A newly crowned king with a thirst for vengeance against an empire whose mantra is conquest? I would be surprised if they even remembered to check in on their emissary to us."

Atlas snorted from behind his mask "A pity. One would hope that clearer minds would prevail and finally remove us of our refugee crisis. The crowd outside grows larger everyday, so the guards tell me. I fear it may get to the point where I may start to hear the cries of those pitiful creatures."

"Do not worry my dear librarian, I have a plan for them."

"Of course you do, my Queen."

Placing a gentle hand down upon Atla's shoulder, the Queen caressed along the smaller man's shoulder "I must see to my people now, Atlas. I except that I'll see you at dinner this evening, provided you can be pried away from your books?"

A harsh cackling chuckle erupted from behind the sun mask, followed by a series of coughs that shook the old man's body "My Queen, I have no doubt I'll be found dead among my dear books in due time but for now I shall not deny you my charming company."

Taking her leave from the throne room and leaving her pair of attendants behind, the mysterious Queen of Tera made her way outside the grand palace alone. A habit and tradition that frustrated her guards, the Queen enjoyed taking time out of her schedule to walk out among her city and her people. A ruler needed to feel safe walking among their people, to have their trust and loyalty. Even in a city of secrets where people were required to hide their true selves the Queen walked in the markets and the pathways like any other citizen. Her first stop was to the large market located just past the gates that led into the city itself, a thriving center of commerce and exotic delights. The smell of spices, roasting meats and livestock wafted down the winding streets, leading the way for the nostrils to follow.

Standing at the entryway to the market the Queen allowed herself a moment to take in the sight of it all. A chaotic mass of storefronts, trade caravans and people, all moving about together like specs of sand in a storm. The sounds and smells were an assault on the senses as vendors called out their wares in bidding wars for the customers attention and children laughed in delight at the entertainers who juggled swords or breathed fire. Entering into the swirling chaos the Queen made her way straight to the food stalls, getting herself a piece of spiced meat skewered on a stick and finding a bench to sit on and enjoy her food.

Sitting beside her was a young woman in blue with long blonde hair tied behind her wooden half mask and two younger boys with similar half masks of their own. Smiling to the family, the Queen began to eat her snack while listening to the woman scolding whom the Queen assumed were her two sons. Apparently they'd wandered off on the mother while she'd been shopping and it was thanks to a passing guard that the mother had been found.

"Pardon my eavesdropping, I couldn't help but overhear" The Queen interjected as she listened to the mother's tone grow more and more worrisome "But you really don't need to worry so much about your children. Tera is the safest city on the continent. No harm would have come to your sons, I promise you"

Behind the wooden mask, the mother's eyes narrowed slightly "I...appreciate the advice miss but..."

"See over there, on the fountain in the middle of the market?"

The Queen motioned over to the ornate stone fountain in the center of the market, barely visible among the throngs of people moving about. Nonetheless the woman nodded, confusion in her eyes "Well sitting on the edge of the fountain, sits a cup. A gold cup, decorated with jewels. Since the founding of this city, that cup has remained on the fountain, unguarded, as a message to the people of this city. That even the simplest crime of taking what does not belong to you does not go unpunished...because, as the story goes, the man who initially stole that cup was trapped within the foundation of the fountain as it was built and that on dark, windless nights, you can still hear him tapping on the stone for someone to free him..." The Queen winked from behind her mask at the two boys now staring up at her in fascination.

"But I'm sure that's just a story"

 

[Erebus]

The young Nomad had been afraid that even with a mask in her possession and a forged citizenship, she would still be denied entry into the City. After all, how much could a scrap of paper really be worth in the face of some unknown magic? There was nothing markedly different about her; her dusty outfit and heavy boots suited the outdoors more than behind walls but the gleam of the mask meant that she was to be inside, not beyond. It was a striking contrast and one that attracted an uncomfortable amount of attention as she twisted through the crowd to the front gate. Confronting one of the masked guards, she pulled out her papers from her satchel and handed them over wordlessly. She was sure to lift her head up slightly so that they might see her face. The description on her documents along with the numerous inked stamps and signatures seemed to satisfy their requirements, much to the Nomad's relief. A pen was produced along with a stamp, noting the time and day before passing the worn sheaves back to her. Not a single word was spoken, only an intense regard for her form as she passed by. Their eyes bore onto her cloak, onto the thin rope of leather around her neck; drilling into her back as she stepped into the promised City of Tera.

Everything hit her at once. It was like stepping into a hallucination; an oasis in the middle of the unforgiving desert. Children with their own faces covered, dressed in loose clothing, skipped and ran about rambunctiously and oblivious to what was happening outside the walls. She remembered the dead man and grimaced. One small child, naked except for the brown mask that covered his entire face, clambered up a series of stone steps to jump feet first into a shallow fountain. Before long, the rest of the children were there, screeching and splashing cold water over each other. The Nomad hurried along as their mothers ran toward them. While the City was built with structural integrity in mind, stone eventually wore away but it looked as if it had only been built within the last year. Even running her hands over the surface of one brick, there were no scars. She wouldn't put it past the builders of the past to have placed several enchantments on their work. Numerous inns and taverns lined the winding pathways along with shops and market stalls selling trinkets. It seemed there was something to be bought and sold on every turn.

Before long, the young Nomad knew she had found the main marketplace. It was a mass of smell and sound, and the hustle-and-bustle of it all was near overwhelming. She brought her hand up to her mask, readjusting it and reminded herself that she was here for one reason. Under all the glamor, she was confident that there was something of value to find here. The City seemed to care not for the god in the sky like Tahurov might, nor were there any ornate statues erected in honor of the mighty dragons that once roamed the lands. Tera truly was a city centered on their own purpose and it was that she wished to seek. With one last deep breath, she tugged her hood further over her head and wormed her way into the ever flowing crowd.

She was immediately taken by the tides past stalls calling out their wares, their voices climbing over each other. One sold handwoven carpets and rugs; another crafted rings made out of real silver, he claimed. Another offered exotic animals as pets: a bird with a blunt beak but feathers that looked like polished metal; cats with three eyes and two tails prowled around their heavily reinforced cages; spined frogs, hairless rodents and the Nomad swore she saw a creature with a mouth so large and full of teeth, it could have swallowed its own body before she was taken away once more. The smell of cooking meat and spices was instantly noticeable and her mouth watered without a second thought. Her meal over the past weeks consisted of cheese, hard bread and dry fruit. The thought of an exotic meal almost made her stomach churn queasily but she swallowed the excess saliva and broke from the masses.

With the coins she had, she purchased a bite of what she presumed was meat and popped it in her mouth piping hot. She ignored the heat burning her tongue and savored the taste, using the back of her hand to wipe the juices as they seeped from the corners of her mouth. She had to save what she had left in her pouch if she was to survive in this City, and so with a remorseful glance back at the stall, she dropped her purse back into her satchel and moved on. All around her the delightful aromas continued to mingle and tempt her but she was determined. It was only when the scent faded did she finally concentrate on where she was. There were stalls and people all around her but it appeared she had made it to the center, where she could glimpse a large fountain stood proud and high. On the very edge of it was a cup made of glinting gold and encrusted with jewels of all sizes and colors. Sapphire, topaz, ruby, emeralds and diamonds lit the goblet up, a robber's dream. Yet the fact that it still stood there with the City's citizens passing without a glance, made her wonder.

"...you can still hear him tapping on the stone for someone to free him..."

The voice was faded, a low whisper among the loud voices but it was there. The Nomad turned, her eyes immediately latching onto a mother and her children, and a woman with long black hair. They all wore masks, but there was something different. The Nomad shivered and hurried away once more, intending to be rid of the feeling crawling down her spine. She wondered if it was the magic that knew she did not belong, but her feet carried her to the fountain and to the goblet. She stared down at the gleaming gold almost defiantly. It was all too confusing. Even in Tahurov, something like this would most certainly be spirited away in the dead of night. A goblet like this belonged behind a glass case in a museum, not sitting out in broad daylight. It made no sense! The Nomad turned, but the people around her did not even seem to notice her. It was a strange feeling.

She reached out to touch the lip of the cup, but something stopped her. A sound, like nails on stone, reached her ears and she balked. The Nomad shook her head and ran.