Upon The Threshold Of Evil

Just as the dark clouds bring rain so the arrival of a letter brings grief and mourning to my soul.
The letter was from Lennox; it gave an account of his encounter with the astrologers and the catastrophe that followed.

As with any war, battle, or skirmish no matter how much thought goes into it things will not go as planned.
For it to follow closely would be a great success.
By some circumstance that I know not how, Lennox writes that our young cousin has been killed and that he is partly to blame.
My curiosity is mad and in turmoil for along with the emotion produced by the loss of kindred is coupled the haunting fact that he was the only son of my uncle's beloved wife now deceased.
His lamentation will not be short and his pain inconsolable.

And without the justification of my brother actions or explanation my anger is aroused that he is in anyway concerned with cousin Edward's death.
I know Edward was not completely blameless by the word treachery contained in Lennox's report, and further know that my brother would not recklessly endanger another's safety.

But lo, more dark news follows further on in his letter that reeks havoc and strips my conscience of any comfort.
In Prince Edward's anger he threw an astrologer's shuriken into king Hyndralad.
The poison tipped weapon embedded itself into the King of Isoloyia's chest, and though the necessary measures of care has been taken to clean the wound for healing Hyndralad continues to draw near to the resting place of his ancestors.

His strength is steadily waning, and Lennox tells me that he fears that he will not have enough time as they are now sailing to Uelar where he hopes he will find the remedy in the many scrolls that his library contains.
The anguish of the other dilemma moves aside in reading these word as desperation has made it's way to my heart.

With every hour slowly ticking away for the Vez-Dûn king, I find it impossible to think of anything else save a solution for my ailing friend.
And now with some consideration I have derived my course of action: Two simple orders that I have delivered to my servants.
The first is to scour the library of LunaMara for any volumes pertaining to poison.
The second is to the captain of the Golden Dawn to ready my ship.

I plan to set sail for Uelar, the Capital of Agmar, with all the books collected, and there I can assist in the search for a remedy and have the enigma of my cousin's death explained to me fully face to face by my brother.

But until this crisis has been resolved for me it will be difficult to remain still, even more so through the long week that lay ahead aboard the ship to Agmar.
My questions will have to lay dormant and restrain their roving restlessness while the allotted time passes and my worries carefully subdued (which will be a difficult task to accomplish).
This peace of mind will not come without harrowing strain but is justified as being necessary for my own well-being.
I will only drive myself mad if my mentality is given full control to mull over and brood without hindrance.

I shall pray, fervently, and search as much as is in my power but that is all that can be done by myself.
It rests in God's hands – God's ever so capable hands, for He can do greatly more.


-Emerald de Gavrillac
Queen of Krespania

A Curious Alliance

The day of dread arrived that would bring the inevitable meeting with the king of Isoloyia.
It was the day I had earnestly hoped would not approach; yet it had, despite my wishes, and I would now have to face my fears.

But between the time of the news of his arrival and that day I had found a surprising and unexpected complacence in my soul and a dissolution of all those acrid abhorrences that I was certain would mark his entrance when he came.
The spell that his name incurred upon me fell away when I continued for a time in contemplation and reasoning. 

Hopefully he would not be so impudent as to insult and treat me wrongfully in my own court.
But I paused – he would not be able to help it if his disposition was so founded upon it.
But certainly his reasoning would impart to him that if any of the two of us were above the other, (though in truth there exist no such thing, for we are equals), it would be more so I in my domain and he in his.
I stopped again.
The king's pride might not let him listen to his reason.

Though these thoughts did little for the future situation, they had in fact stabilized the tumultuousness inside by emphasizing these truths: I would be in my kingdom; he would be coming to me and not I in search of his assistance; I had no favor to seek, but it would be him who would be seeking my favor – favor of presence.

This was a soothing balm that did not wear off even as the day dawned.
No matter how he would behave, I would not shy away in fright, and hopefully I would be respectful in return, even if he was not.

The morning was like any other day nearing Spring as it was, pleasantly warmer than the former temperatures had been; a tranquil azure sky contrasted against the energetic rays of the sun, and all with the distinct sensation and smell of the freshness Spring entertains.

I had been told King Hyndralad was in the city and knew the hour was ever drawing nearer in which we should meet.
With this in mind, the court hearings seemed to drone on. 
The hours moved slower than a donkey with a heavy load, and my patience waned as I waited.
And when the session concluded and the report that the king of Isoloyia was in LunaMara palace requesting an audience, I was sent into frantic throes, hastily reviewing my appearance in a looking-glass and making certain my hair was as neat as it had been when it was adorned that morning, and readjusting my clothing and hair-veil to resemble perfection as closely as I could obtain. 
My ladies-in-waiting all clamored at once that I was the portrait of elegance and beauty, yet I was not convinced.
Perfection was a close friend of Hyndralad, but was indifferent to my pursuit of a relationship.

With a powerful force I squelched my inner qualms and stilled my nerves into an assumed serenity.
The king of Isoloyia entered through the large doors at the far end of the throne room, and with a stateliness I had imagined, ascended the stairs that lead to my very presence.
An entourage of soldiers and servants followed in the wake left by his flowing blue cape, all with the same disciplined march. 
Hyndralad's air of military was further emphasized by the armor he wore, polished to a piercing glare.

He bowed, and when he lifted his head those familiar auriferous eyes penetrated my own, and the corner of his lips slightly curled in a smile that lacked the humor that usually accompanies one.
“Hail, fair queen of Krespania! Greetings from Isoloyia, and so forth.”
I returned a stiff bow atop my throne and pronounced a similar formula of the ceremonial hyperbole.
“I hope Your Majesty is enjoying good health.”
I answered in the affirmative.
There was no reason this charade of formality should continue because I knew the king to be straight-forward, therefore I did not hesitate nor think it inappropriate to inquire:
“Your visit is a surprise to be sure; what has induced a visit to our abode, may I ask?”

He raised his eyebrows as if observing me anew.
“I have long been abroad in the lands of your brother, Emperor Lennox, assisting him in his fight against the Astrologers, as you know from his letter I am confident.”
Yes, Lennox had mentioned it, and it had left me bewildered that he should come to his aid when he had not been so eager formally.

But you, my reader, are probably confused asking who the Astrologers are since I have not taken note of them before; so I will pursue a much needed rabbit in your case to explain:
The Astrologers are a hostile cult that worships the heavens and stars and dark magic and have recently cropped up in Agmar with vengeance.

Wherever they go they seek to overthrow the authorities and take over themselves, killing and destroying whoever resists their practice.
Lennox has long been at war with them, but since they are extremely elusive it produces only little skirmishes here and there and not an all out battle.
Once they retreat, it is hard to locate them again.
They are like a disease slowly poisoning the villages of Agmar with their demonic ideas and have grown so prominent they cannot be ignored.

Hyndralad de Gundalia continued, “They had barricaded your brother in Fort Carvin, and my men and I were separated to the outside. We had been fighting steadily for some time before your brother joined in, and since we were not availing in any way Lennox suggested I take rest. I already had business to conduct here, therefore I thought this to be the most opportune location.”

“What other business must be concluded in Krespania?” I felt it was necessary to know.
“To speak with your lady-ship directly.”
Another bewilderment!
What could he have to say to me, for whom he must certainly regard with condescending disdain?
He probably looked at the landscapes and cities of Krespania as he arrived, with disgust, viewing them as the rags of poverty compared to the glories of Isoloyia.
But his austerity made it impossible to deny him.

“Would you like to view my gardens?”
It would provide some privacy if it was called for.
King Hyndralad nodded, and we left the dim interior for the sunny landscape.
I was conscience of the returning sense of diminutiveness as I walked alongside the massive height of the Vez-Dûn king through the gravel pathway, walled on each side with green hedges.

“This is stunningly beautiful,” He rotated his head in observance of the many rose bushes in neat rows, preparing to bloom, and the trees overhanging the grove path.
“As it is with the palace itself... and the mistress of it all.”
I risked a glimpse at his face.
Was I supposed to be flattered? I knew not how to take it.
He spoke of other trivial things that I dared an answer. 
Yet as far as my disposition went, I would say it was not grass we trod on but pins and needles.
Would one wrong answer induce him to explode in a raging temper or was he more stable than that?
I feared no bodily harm – Jokthan and Joktan, who were not far behind, would prevent that.

I was just not well enough acquainted to understand his personality.
And if I thought I was beginning to his next statement proved otherwise.
“I have come to you with one express task in mind; Though I find it difficult, I will not divert, for I have determined to go through with it. When we met last I treated you treacherously ill and not deserving of a descendant of Cedric de Gavrillac, and I wish to implore your forgiveness.”

My breath caught, and I looked at him half expecting this to be a jest. 
No expression carved itself on those stony and pointed features, and I had to assume based on his characteristics of being honest in every situation that he was sincere.
“But would you suffer such an apology to me without the claim of the de Gavrillac surname?” I wondered but hardly dared to voice. 

The king had already stated the confession was difficult, I would not wish to stir up regret and perhaps end for all any communications between our kingdom by antagonizing him.
Instead I said, “Since it is not in my habit to withhold forgiveness from any one, you shall have it, sir.”
“In the future if you ever have need, I will not hesitate to fulfill your request.” Hyndralad gave a bow in gratitude.

I returned the offer having the feeling that this was the foundation of a curious alliance between our countries.
But would it retain the strength to continue or would it fail in the flower of it's youth?
And what had brought about this transformation in the king of Isoloyia to be able to bring himself to apologize? Or even to invoke him to leave his Vez-Dûn palace and come out into the world after so many years?
And let us not forget his taking part in the fight against the Astrologers.
These surprising ingredients were all stirred into the large cauldron of wonder to simmer and cook till I could withdraw a satisfying answer from the reduced remains.
Until then I was confused.

Perhaps Lennox had something to do with it, seeing as Hyndralad had been with him for some time in Agmar.
We began our walk again with me feeling a little more relaxed and more congenial toward our guest than I would have imagined I would ever be.


-Emerald de Gavrillac
 Queen of Krespania

An Audience With Egotism, Pt. 2

Inside my cabin I could share my true feelings with my Lady-in-Waiting about what had just taken place.
“Meredith, I truly wonder if going to war is as stressing as that meeting was.” I said, lowering myself to the divan.

“I pity you, Milady, having to face him like you did. But despite that, you handled it to perfection, in my opinion.” My Lady-In-Waiting poured a cup of Jomacha and delivered it to my hands.
“There is one thing I am curious about. You indicated that he knew your ancestor Cedric, but how could that be possible? That would make him at least-”

“Three thousand years old? He was actually born in the first age,  and precisely three thousand, five hundred and seventy-three years old.”

Meredith's eyes widened. “But he looks only to be about thirty years of age! I would never have thought him that old!”

I told her only what I had been told which was that he was a Langilike Vez-Dûn, a race of Vez-Dûn that was blessed with long life. There were only a few that existed of this race, and he was the most prominent.

“Yes, he does look young, and he is handsome too.” I admitted. “But Meredith, what is your thoughts?”

“Do you wish to know my opinion, or what I see?”
“I consider them one and the same. Speak freely to me.”
Meredith had proven her unique gift of insight and intuition of the real nature of people many a time at the court of Krespania, and I trusted her judgment.

“Simply put, he is egotistical and entirely selfish. I do not think anything I see will amount to anything others cannot see. His self-consuming is obvious.” She paused for a moment as if to think.
“I credit him with this: he is completely honest. What he says carries no deceit. But he has little fear of anyone being more intelligent or more superior, and subsequently, he has no faith in his fellow man.
“I must admit his character and peculiarities leave me wondering as to what has occurred in his life to result in such a merciless and proud nature. Has the power he has born these many years made him thus? I cannot help but wonder.”

“Well, it has not helped him any that there have been several assassination attempts upon his life. And I could probably say he has not any faith in man because he has lived through so many generations where all have proven their wickedness; He no doubt feels it would be in vain to do so.” I said, then added with a smile. “Not that he is any saint himself.”

I sipped from my Jomacha. “Though there is a mysterious in him, that I find intriguing, despite his intimidation. And something else to be admired...but I am not quite sure of what it is. Perhaps it is the authority in which he speaks and moves with, or his stalwart discipline. Hhmm, I doubt we shall meet again, since invitations to Isoloyia are very rare, so I shall probably never know.”

And that was the end of the discussion of King Hyndralad de Gundalia.
Once all of my armada had sufficient resources we set sail, where we are today: heading to Unoomad to face the trials reserved for us there.


-Emerald de Gavrillac
 Queen of Krespania

An Audience With Egotism, Pt. 1

At last, Isoloyia!

I could never find a more welcoming sight at that moment than it's tall towers of white stone gleaming in the sun, as pure and noble as a brilliant star.

Embedded high upon the mountainside, overlooking the city stretched out beneath it, stood the royal Vez-Dûn citadel and home of King Hyndralad de Gundalia.
As with all his structures, they represented his rule and character: cold, magnificent, dominating yet admirable and glorious.

That is according to the reports that have been told to me.
And only now have I had the chance to confirm or deny those rumors.
Though it mattered little to me, as long as I received my supplies.

When we put into port the steeds were unloaded and my company (which consisted of Meredith, my captain, two generals, four soldiers and my bodyguards) and I rode to the citadel, where we were escorted by the guards in their disciplined protocol through the wide halls to the throne room.

The interior boasted of opulence and grandeur though not ostentatiously; the architecture and décor was  set in such a way that it appeared clean, economical and without extravagance. It was as if there was not a pretension to impress any one, but that this majesty came simply and effortlessly.
The throne room was the same: the marble shone almost as bright as the snow in the winter sun, and great pillars rose to the tall ceiling on either side.
A crimson carpet lead the way through the center of the chamber and up the stairs to the raised dais at the end of the hall.

Even I, in my finest Krespanian gown and royal apparel, felt small and inadequate in such a place.
But this was nothing compared to what I was about to face.

A lone, slender figure sat on the throne that was drawn out in an island in front of the dais and directly above the stairs that descended from it.
And somehow just seeing his rigid posture as straight as the back of his marble throne sent trembles through me.
It was all I could do to keep my walk steady and graceful, as we approached, for in that instant I knew the rumors to be true that told of him as being stern and unfriendly.

We halted some distance before the nine foot dais, and bowed in homage to the Vez-Dûn king of Isoloyia.

The light through the deep sapphire pane of the three large windows behind the throne reflected against the silver hair of King Hyndralad, and sent colorful designs playing across the floor by our feet.

I hoped my voice would not betray me.
“Greetings, I am Queen Emerald de Gavrillac of Krespania, your humble servant.”
He looked down at us without lowering his head and said, “As I, King Hyndralad de Gundalia, greet you.” with a deep and commanding voice that lingered in the wide hall.
“I presume you have come to collect your supplies from us.”
“If it pleases Your Majesty.”
The corner of his lips turned slightly in a wry smile. “And why should it please me?”

This took me aback, and I was at a loss for words. “I-I... apologize if it is an inconvenience to Your Majesty. It is only I am in desperation; my ships have been depleted of all food and ammunition. We cannot possibly assist my brother, the Emperor, against Palkaan with what we have. If there were any other way...”
Hyndralad was silent for a moment then rose slowly from his throne and circling around it, descended the stairs of the dais.

I did not realize how tall he really was until he drew near; he stood two heads taller than I, which I would calculate to be about six foot and seven inches.
He studied me with his autumn-golden eyes, as if I were transparent and he could read every detail of my life.

I had never had the trouble of feeling inferior, being in power as I am, except for this moment; I felt as if I were only a peasant under his overpowering gaze, nothing more than dirt on the floor.

He made me feel as though I did not belong there; As like a slave, I should cower before his magnificence.

I so feared those penetrating eyes that I begun to drop my own to the floor, but then halted.
Why should I cringe before him? He is no more superior, that I should lower my eyes in shame.
And what about my soldiers who are starving inside their wooden prisons?
I must be strong for their sake.
I raised my head and boldly met his gaze.
I would not be intimidated.

He drew back slightly, and lifted his chin higher.
“My countries resources will be exhausted if I supply your needs. I am sorry, but I cannot help!” He said sharply.
“If you will not help for the good of others, then do it for my ancestor Cedric's sake!” I quickly retorted.

My anger replaced the fear inside of me, and the words spilled from my lips.
“Have you so easily forgotten your friendship with him? The only human in whom you put your trust?”

“Cedric,” He said, thoughtfully. “I knew not that his descendants still remained on the throne.”

“Only my brother, Lennox, who governs Agmar, and I, over Krespania, exist at present.” I said, and continued. “There is also my uncle who-”

King Hyndralad waved his hand for silence.
"Yes... I can recognize a little of Cedric within you. Wyles."
A servant emerged from the shadows. “Supply the Krespanian armada with all that they request.”

I bowed deeply, relieved that he did not continue to resist.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. My kingdom shall endeavor to repay you for your assistance.”

“It is not necessary. If I state a need for something in the future, perhaps...but for now we shall leave it as a gift for Cedric's descendants.” He said, then withdrew the same way he came, as if a sign the conversation was over.

My party bowed our leave, and only when I was back aboard The Golden Dawn and safely within my cabin did I breath a sigh of relief.


-Emerald de Gavrillac
 Queen of Krespania