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Altriona: Journal the Sixth
Nov. 27th, 2009 06:26 amAs I sit here writing in the best comfort a human prince can lay out for a guest, my father lies in state in Laurelorn Forest and our people conduct his funeral rites. The only child of his three who is present to perform those rites is the one who killed him.
As is my wont, I am telling the end of the story before its beginning.
The D'Naufragios lad Guiseppe brought us into the city yesterday morn. The boat was a normal longboat, but around us were screens of fabric, designed to hide us from the view of passers-by while affording us some small, veiled view of the city we were approaching. Tobaro is a fascinating habitation. I tried to curb my tongue when remarking on the beauty my ancestors had wrought, but could not, even if I should give offense by it. Seven golden gates lead to a cavern harbour, wonderfully carved about with Elven gods and goddesses though the art was in poor repair, which gives way to the warren of caves and buildings carved out of stone, wherein resides the bulk of the city. How they live in such perpetual darkness I do not know, for I was feeling restless as soon as the sunlight was gone from our awning. Even Marienberg makes me feel closed-in.
Guiseppe took us to a pier deep in the port, up a canal a short distance, to a section of the city where I would not sheath my weapons had I found myself alone in it. There was a small carriage waiting for us. I believe I shall need to study this Tilean language, for it is becoming increasingly unpleasant to be discussed as though not present by parties I cannot comprehend. We were handed over into the care of Prudenzio Attilia Abbatista who bid us enter his carriage for the ride back to his home. He described certain realities of life in a city state like Tobaro on the way. I am unsure whether he realized how much valuable information he was giving us, in particular about politics and the layout of the city. It was clear, however, that he would not allow us to explore the city, even under escort. He insisted that it was not safe until we had been presented to the prince some three days hence. I could see Lorandara growing increasingly agitated at the thought of leaving Malion to wonder about our whereabouts for so long; indeed I felt much the same. I felt more the prisoner after five minutes with him than I ever had on the jutting rocks of the D'Naufragios clan.
The house to which we were taken was of elven construction centuries ago, and showed its age with each crumbling gargoyle. It was carved from the stone of the caves, at least the outer walls, and with the lack of weather in this place was in better shape than it might have been despite the poor maintenance afforded by its current owner. Lorandara explored the house while I kept our captor busy in the library, discussing the books there and attempting to read the wall map of the city whenever he was paying insufficient attention to the direction of my gaze. Despite my lack of facility with the language, it was not hard to determine the location we needed to go. There were two buildings bearing the symbol Lorandara had shown to Mallion; one was on the top level, inside the walls and close to the Prince's palace, while the other was located on the outer cliff face and bore the name "Scholarium."
We did convince Prudenzio to have a seamstress brought in, as we had not brought clothing with us suitable for presentation to a prince. The designs she planned to make were garish by elven standards but seemed quite fitting for a human court. Lorandara chose to wear white, to mark her magical order of Hish. I chose a simple design in the richest blue fabric on offer, claiming the blue was the colour of my House. It is, but I had never before chosen a dress on that basis.
It was during the fitting that our rescuers arrived.
The seamstress told us that the livery, seen through a slit in the shutters, was that of the Prince. There were perhaps sixty men, some ahorse but most afoot. Though we could not understand the words, we heard the name "Imholien" several times, and our host answering back in a very agitated manner. I armed myself and we went to the top of the stairs, where we were met by our host, ordering us to remain in our rooms. He claimed the prince's men were there to kill us, and that he was protecting our interests.
My sister has never been much involved with Elven court politics, as I have. I was quite sure the prince was not going to march into a main square, announce the name of one of the great Elven trading houses, and then kill those so named. I was in favour of marching down the stairs and out the door, by force if need be. But Lorandara has been right so many times during our voyage that when she encouraged me to use this turn of events to escape unnoticed, I at first acceded to her plan. We snuck into our host's chambers and borrowed some men's clothing, better for sneaking and fighting in. She incapacitated the guard sent to find us. When he failed to answer his employer's call, our host came looking for him. We snuck down the stairs while he was searching for us. That was when Lorandara shared her full plan with me: she wanted to invite the Prince's men into the house and then escape in the confusion.
At the foot of the staircase, the servants were attempting to barricade the front door against a possible assault. It was a pitiful attempt to be sure, but nonetheless inhibited our escape. Summoning my best noble hauteur, I ordered all the servants into the sitting room at the point of my blade, and helped Lorandara clear away the makeshift blockage.
As the door swung open, I stepped through, announced us formally, and requested that they take us to the Prince.
Lorandara has looks that can kill. I have witnessed this. I am fortunate that she did not truly want me dead, for her expression was murderous. Our host was less restrained. His shouted epithets at our retreating backs were most unmannerly and marked him for a gentleman in name only. He had too few men to stand against the company who had come to fetch us, however, so he had no further choice in the matter. We were given horses and taken up through the caves to the Prince's palace, where we were greeted in state.
It was the Prince himself who informed us of the contents of the dispatches received that very day from the north. The lord of House Imholien is dead. According to the dispatches, his son Valadar had rescued Mallion from the pirates, and Mallion was now Lord Imholien.
There is treachery at the heart of my family. Mallion's place has been usurped by an impostor who is yet unknown to us, in the thrall of our younger brother. And yet we cannot prove this in any way that will result in its amelioration; for should we return with Mallion in his current state, he will be killed and we two will find ourselves bound about by Valadar, perhaps even dead by his hand or his order.
When we speak with Captain Tidurion on the morrow, we will have the dispatches as proof of the perfidy of my brother. Mayhap he will agree to captain for us directly out of loyalty to his dead lord and that lord's rightful heirs.
Somehow, I will take my family back. This I swear on the family ring, now on a chain around my neck until Mallion, or if needs be, I myself, may wear it openly. This I swear on the symbol of Imholien House, that I, a scion of it, will not permit it to remain in the control of one guilty of patricide. I have this honour left to me yet.
My father will be avenged.
As is my wont, I am telling the end of the story before its beginning.
The D'Naufragios lad Guiseppe brought us into the city yesterday morn. The boat was a normal longboat, but around us were screens of fabric, designed to hide us from the view of passers-by while affording us some small, veiled view of the city we were approaching. Tobaro is a fascinating habitation. I tried to curb my tongue when remarking on the beauty my ancestors had wrought, but could not, even if I should give offense by it. Seven golden gates lead to a cavern harbour, wonderfully carved about with Elven gods and goddesses though the art was in poor repair, which gives way to the warren of caves and buildings carved out of stone, wherein resides the bulk of the city. How they live in such perpetual darkness I do not know, for I was feeling restless as soon as the sunlight was gone from our awning. Even Marienberg makes me feel closed-in.
Guiseppe took us to a pier deep in the port, up a canal a short distance, to a section of the city where I would not sheath my weapons had I found myself alone in it. There was a small carriage waiting for us. I believe I shall need to study this Tilean language, for it is becoming increasingly unpleasant to be discussed as though not present by parties I cannot comprehend. We were handed over into the care of Prudenzio Attilia Abbatista who bid us enter his carriage for the ride back to his home. He described certain realities of life in a city state like Tobaro on the way. I am unsure whether he realized how much valuable information he was giving us, in particular about politics and the layout of the city. It was clear, however, that he would not allow us to explore the city, even under escort. He insisted that it was not safe until we had been presented to the prince some three days hence. I could see Lorandara growing increasingly agitated at the thought of leaving Malion to wonder about our whereabouts for so long; indeed I felt much the same. I felt more the prisoner after five minutes with him than I ever had on the jutting rocks of the D'Naufragios clan.
The house to which we were taken was of elven construction centuries ago, and showed its age with each crumbling gargoyle. It was carved from the stone of the caves, at least the outer walls, and with the lack of weather in this place was in better shape than it might have been despite the poor maintenance afforded by its current owner. Lorandara explored the house while I kept our captor busy in the library, discussing the books there and attempting to read the wall map of the city whenever he was paying insufficient attention to the direction of my gaze. Despite my lack of facility with the language, it was not hard to determine the location we needed to go. There were two buildings bearing the symbol Lorandara had shown to Mallion; one was on the top level, inside the walls and close to the Prince's palace, while the other was located on the outer cliff face and bore the name "Scholarium."
We did convince Prudenzio to have a seamstress brought in, as we had not brought clothing with us suitable for presentation to a prince. The designs she planned to make were garish by elven standards but seemed quite fitting for a human court. Lorandara chose to wear white, to mark her magical order of Hish. I chose a simple design in the richest blue fabric on offer, claiming the blue was the colour of my House. It is, but I had never before chosen a dress on that basis.
It was during the fitting that our rescuers arrived.
The seamstress told us that the livery, seen through a slit in the shutters, was that of the Prince. There were perhaps sixty men, some ahorse but most afoot. Though we could not understand the words, we heard the name "Imholien" several times, and our host answering back in a very agitated manner. I armed myself and we went to the top of the stairs, where we were met by our host, ordering us to remain in our rooms. He claimed the prince's men were there to kill us, and that he was protecting our interests.
My sister has never been much involved with Elven court politics, as I have. I was quite sure the prince was not going to march into a main square, announce the name of one of the great Elven trading houses, and then kill those so named. I was in favour of marching down the stairs and out the door, by force if need be. But Lorandara has been right so many times during our voyage that when she encouraged me to use this turn of events to escape unnoticed, I at first acceded to her plan. We snuck into our host's chambers and borrowed some men's clothing, better for sneaking and fighting in. She incapacitated the guard sent to find us. When he failed to answer his employer's call, our host came looking for him. We snuck down the stairs while he was searching for us. That was when Lorandara shared her full plan with me: she wanted to invite the Prince's men into the house and then escape in the confusion.
At the foot of the staircase, the servants were attempting to barricade the front door against a possible assault. It was a pitiful attempt to be sure, but nonetheless inhibited our escape. Summoning my best noble hauteur, I ordered all the servants into the sitting room at the point of my blade, and helped Lorandara clear away the makeshift blockage.
As the door swung open, I stepped through, announced us formally, and requested that they take us to the Prince.
Lorandara has looks that can kill. I have witnessed this. I am fortunate that she did not truly want me dead, for her expression was murderous. Our host was less restrained. His shouted epithets at our retreating backs were most unmannerly and marked him for a gentleman in name only. He had too few men to stand against the company who had come to fetch us, however, so he had no further choice in the matter. We were given horses and taken up through the caves to the Prince's palace, where we were greeted in state.
It was the Prince himself who informed us of the contents of the dispatches received that very day from the north. The lord of House Imholien is dead. According to the dispatches, his son Valadar had rescued Mallion from the pirates, and Mallion was now Lord Imholien.
There is treachery at the heart of my family. Mallion's place has been usurped by an impostor who is yet unknown to us, in the thrall of our younger brother. And yet we cannot prove this in any way that will result in its amelioration; for should we return with Mallion in his current state, he will be killed and we two will find ourselves bound about by Valadar, perhaps even dead by his hand or his order.
When we speak with Captain Tidurion on the morrow, we will have the dispatches as proof of the perfidy of my brother. Mayhap he will agree to captain for us directly out of loyalty to his dead lord and that lord's rightful heirs.
Somehow, I will take my family back. This I swear on the family ring, now on a chain around my neck until Mallion, or if needs be, I myself, may wear it openly. This I swear on the symbol of Imholien House, that I, a scion of it, will not permit it to remain in the control of one guilty of patricide. I have this honour left to me yet.
My father will be avenged.