Brian Anderson - Shadow of the Gods

“I hope to send for elves soon,” said Linis. “But I think it best to prepare the people of Sharpstone first. Most people along the Goodbranch have never seen an elf, and only have heard stories of the Great War to form their opinions.”

“I am certain you can ease their fears,” said Theopolou. “When the time comes, send word, and I will send as many as can be spared.” He could see Linis’ expression darken. “What is it?”

Linis sat. “I have heard some disturbing news. The human, Maybell, has just arrived in the Temple of Ayliazarah, here in Althetas. She was a priestess in Kaltinor and traveled with Gewey and Lee, when I first met them. I am told she was accompanied by Malstisos.”

“I know of him,” said Theopolou. “His father and I fought together in the Great War.”

“He has left Althetas to go north to the Steppes.” Linis paused. “To face judgment.”

“For what purpose?” he asked, taken aback.

“I do not have enough information to say for certain,” said Linis. “But I think you should speak to Maybell.”

“I will send for her after the council meets.” Theopolou stood. “And you should not delay any longer, my friend.”

Linis got to his feet and sighed. “It seems I am ever traveling. But, you are right. Every moment is precious. Farewell, Theopolou. May the Creator bless you.”

“And you,” he replied, smiling.

Once Linis left, Theopolou sat back down and tried to clear his mind. He felt age gathering upon him as he thumbed through the pages of his book. The journey to the Steppes weighed heavily on his mind, and the fact that Malstisos had gone to face his judgment could complicate matters. He put the book down and slipped into bed. A bit of sleep would do him good.

A few hours later, he rose and dressed for the banquet. The king’s manor was vast and boasted a dining hall large enough to seat more than two-hundred guests. It had been built just after the Great War. It stood three stories high, and was constructed from hard, black stone, quarried from the lands just south of the Steppes. Though the decor was not elaborate, it suited the personality of Althetas and its people. Tapestries of great warships and valiant warriors hung on the walls of the larger room, alongside paintings of former kings. There were also sculptures of various lords and heroes. The furniture was diverse, as one would expect from a port city. Examples of styles from all over the world were found in every room. Theopolou even spotted a few tables and chairs of elf make. He had seen paintings of the original building. It was much smaller than what stood presently. He was told that each new king adds a little bit to the manor.

The grounds were well-tended and included dozens of small flower gardens. Mostly, local flora, but here and there, a flower from a distant land could be seen. A tall, wrought-iron gate surrounded the entire manor and grounds, with a manicured hedge just inside.

He contemplated the idea of skipping the banquet. Every moment he spent in idle conversation with the nobility of the Western Abyss made him anxious to depart for the Steppes. He wandered for a time, admiring the tapestries and sculptures, and though not as fine as those in his own home, he was impressed by the talent of human hands.

When he finally arrived in the banquet hall, the polished oak double doors were open wide and the room was already filled to capacity. Six long tables were placed side by side and ran along the length of the one-hundred foot long room. To his left, a harpist played softly. The music carried over the voices, filling the hall. Three crystal chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling and dozens of silver lanterns lined the walls. On the opposite end of the room, a raised platform held another table that spanned the halls width. Their, King Lousis, Ertik, and the other nobles were seated. He saw a few elves that had taken seats at the far right table, along with Lord Brasley Amnadon. Theopolou had only taken a few steps when a trumpet rang out.

“Lord Theopolou, your highness,” cried a herald stationed beside the door.

The room went silent as all eyes fell on Theopolou. He paused a moment, then made his way to the King’s table, where an empty seat at the king’s right side awaited him. Everyone rose and bowed. Theopolou returned the gesture, and took his seat.

“Our kitchen has been preparing a few elf dishes just for you and your people,” said Lousis, cheerfully. “Though, from what I've heard, The Frog's Wishbone may far outshine what I have to offer. Lord Ganflin prides himself in his elf cuisine.”

“Yes,” said Theopolou. “Linis mentioned it. If ever I have the time, I would like to explore your city.”

Just then a servant ran up to the King and whispered into his ear.

“It would seem King Halmara has arrived,” said Lousis, a look of concern on his face. “Along with a representative from Angraal.”

“Will you receive him?” asked Theopolou.

“If he travels with King Halmara, I have little choice,” Lousis replied angrily. “To deny him entrance would be seen as an insult. Skalhalis is an important port, and nearly as large as Althetas. And King Halmara carries much influence in the council.”

“Prepare them a seat,” Lousis ordered the servant. “And show them in. Then have quarters prepared.”

The servant scurried off.

“So it would seem Angraalis making no secret of their intent,” said Theopolou.

“It could be worse than you think,” said Lousis. “Valshara is within King Halmara’s boarders. If he took part in the siege, then the council meeting may be a useless gesture. The cities to the south will certainly side with Skalhalis, leaving the coast split in two. Then we will be caught between the elves of the Steppes and Skalhalis.”

“I hope to sway the elves from their present course, once my business here is concluded,” said Theopolou. “If I am successful, then the situation will not be as dire.”

“And if you fail…” Lousis' words faded as two figures stepped inside the hall.

The first was dressed in a fine blue silk shirt, open at the neck, with silver ruffles, matching trousers, and polished, black leather boots. A golden scabbard hung from a black belt. The hilt of the sword was interlaced with gold and ivory, and crowned with a blue sapphire. His short, sandy blond hair was oiled and combed back neatly. Though clearly a man of some years, his tan skin and stout build gave him a somewhat youthful appearance.

At his side, stood a short, thin man dressed in a plain, black cotton robe tied at the waist by a thin, white rope. Theopolou guessed him to be in his early thirties, yet his jet-black hair was already thinning. Though not strong in stature, his piercing blue eyes shone brightly and could be noticed even from across the room. This and his confident strides gave him a commanding presence. He followed close behind as they approached the table.

King Lousis stood up and bowed. “King Halmara. I welcome you.”

Halmara smiled. “Thank you, my old friend. I have missed your company.” He stepped aside and motioned toward his companion. “I present Lord Sialo Magrifal, Ambassador of Angraal, and servant of the Reborn King.”

“You dress oddly for a lord,” remarked Lousis. “Do you not?”

“If my attire offends your highness, I will change,” said Sialo, bowing low.

“Not at all,” Lousis replied. “Please, be welcome. A place has been set for you both. My home is at your disposal.”

They bowed and took their seats at the far left end of the table.

“I think I will be glad to have you in the council tomorrow,” said Lousis. “Your support will be crucial.”

“I will help, if I can,” Theopolou replied. “Though my experience dealing with humans is quite limited, I am well-versed in the nuances of diplomacy.”