Book 4: Chapter 18: The King of the Elves
My introduction to the elven Court was everything I could’ve hoped for.
As well as a massive disappointment.
The architecture was breathtaking, with the throne room sweeping up the full three stories to create an absolutely massive space. Like the final boss room of a Japanese RPG.
One of the walls was all stained glass, allowing a waterfall of colourful light to stream over the marble statues hanging from the walls and ceilings.
The far wall from where we’d entered was dominated by a dais leading up to a twisting silver tree with golden leaves. The throne was built into it, and swirling lines of filigree spread out from the steps leading up to it to twist and curl around the room like vines. The pure artfulness of the architecture put the greatest art nouveau architecture of Earth to shame.
It really drove home how utilitarian dwarven architecture could be. Joseph was right that this place screamed ‘Royalty’ way more than anything in Kinshasa.
Guards lined nearly every wall, spaced at five meter intervals. They all wore the same mithril armor, with a fluted helm and a leaf motif for the shoulder pads. They wielded longspears and stared straight ahead, ignoring us completely.
The elf who’d called us in – the Sergeant at Arms? – announced our presence. “Announcing His Lordship, Bartender Peter Roughtuff, Ambassador of The Nation of Crack and Forefather of Brewing, and His Lordship Merchant Joseph Stannard, Head of the Greybough Consortium and His Royal Majesty’s Ambassador the Nation of Crack!”
It was only my high Charisma that kept me from tripping over my own metal shod boots at that introduction! Beside me, Balin barely kept a snort in.