V3Ch34-The Ivory Palace
The High Elf King and Queen led Tybalt and Dero into their palace.
“I am Queen Kamila, Your Majesty,” said the porcelain-skinned woman, dipping her head slightly at Tybalt as her husband had. “And it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess Dero.”
“That’s right, you weren’t here the last time I visited,” the dark elf observed. “I believe King Colin was in mourning for his previous wife back then.”
“That was a long time ago,” Colin countered. “As far as even elven lifespans go. Centuries.”
“Are we able to speak freely right now?” Tybalt asked. “Considering that you were clearly concerned about something earlier…”
King Colin nodded. “Just one moment.”
He raised a hand, and his mana glowed red - then shifted to a darker color that resembled Dero’s mana in a flash.
A wave of energy shot out of his palm in all directions, and the air took on a violet tint everywhere.
“Now we cannot be overheard,” he said with a note of pride in his voice.
“So, in addition to wearing my family’s symbol on your coat of arms, you’ve taken to studying our unique magic,” Dero said. She sounded unimpressed, but Tybalt could tell she was either concealing that she actually was impressed or that it annoyed her, having her skills replicated by someone she did not especially like.
Tybalt himself was impressed.
The High Elf King imitating a skill that Dero happened to possess was one thing, but shifting his mana to more closely match hers was another. The former took skill, discipline, and often direct instruction - and Tybalt had been pleased with himself for learning Teleport from her in a matter of weeks.
But adjusting his mana to resemble her family’s - and so casually! - to more effectively use the skill was something more.
Mastery. Centuries of study, on top of some level of natural talent.
What level is he? A hundred? Two hundred? Three?
Regardless of his age or his level, it seemed clear that the High Elf King was an archmage, a man who had spent his entire life studying the principles of magic.
“You should be honored that my husband considers your family’s skills worthy of preservation,” Kamila said, wrinkling her nose at Dero.
“After the complete lack of support when my family and our people were attacked and exterminated—”
“We really should try not to get off on such a bad foot,” Colin said in a placating tone, looking at Dero. He turned to his wife next. “These two are here to negotiate, using us as mediators.”
Tybalt frowned. He’s probably more powerful than us. What does he want? Why is he trying to play nice?
“That is all well and good, but I will not hear my husband disrespected in our own home,” Kamila said.
“What were you doing back when the dark elves were attacked?” Dero asked.
“I was still at my studies at the time.”
“Oh, you must have been quite young,” the dark elf replied, nodding with an expression of understanding. “Probably still underage at my last visit, back when Colin was mourning the previous Queen.” She raised an eyebrow and shot a look at Colin that said, mockingly, cradle-robber, if Tybalt had any ability to read it.
“I trust that the two of you had a smooth journey here,” Colin said, continuing to forcefully steer the conversation toward some semblance of normalcy.
“We met the wood elves,” Dero said. “Are they your subjects?”
“I would consider them - and all elves - as rightfully part of my Kingdom,” Colin said slowly. “But—”
“Because they gathered on the beach to shoot arrows at us,” Dero said.
“You could call it a warm welcome,” Tybalt added, shrugging and giving the High Elf King a little smile.
“Unfortunately, they are a bit ungovernable at the moment,” the High Elf King finished.
“Ingrates who don’t know where their true interests lie,” said Kamila, shaking her head.
They’re a well suited couple.
“So, two-thirds of your sigil symbols are placed there without support from the people they purport to represent,” Dero observed.
“The wood elves are under some of the same magical protection as my own high elves,” Colin said. “As my wife said, however, they don’t know their place. The fact that they don’t recognize that they owe me fealty does not change the realities. This has been a relatively short-lived independence movement, a minor insurrection, a matter of a century and a half—” Dero snorted derisively at that—“and I will crush it when the time is right.”
“Is this why you couldn’t bestir yourself to help my family and my people?” the dark elf asked bluntly. “You were too busy trying to keep your own under your thumb?”
“I had a larger mission, young lady, which I suspect your patron here knows something about.”
Patron?
Dero raised her eyebrow at the same moment that Tybalt had that thought, which suggested to him that she was wondering the same thing.
Does Colin think Dero works for me? Then again, I guess I only told the fake King that she was my fiancee. I introduced myself to Colin, but I never introduced Dero, because they already knew her.
“Why don’t we talk about that larger mission, honey, before your magic wears off?” Kamila pointed to the violet haze in the air, which seemed to have thinned slightly.
Colin nodded and looked meaningfully at Tybalt. “We serve the same power as you, King Tybalt. Death God Mudo. And I know you are the person I have been waiting for to fulfill my mission. I have not sat idly here. Rather than simply ruling over my people, I have been slowly converting them to the Death God’s service.”
“I appreciate the effort, though I didn’t see a single temple to the Death God on the way here,” Tybalt said.
“It is a covert effort,” emphasized Kamila.
“How long, exactly, have you been working on this mission?” Tybalt asked.
“Millennia,” Colin replied instantly.
At that point, he’d almost have to be more invested in inaction than in the idea of eventually winning, Tybalt thought.
“My people were devoted followers of Lord Mudo,” Dero said, her voice full of accusation. “Whatever my own view on your cause… how dare you say you’re doing his work while standing by and letting them die?”
“I had to make a choice between trying to come to your rescue - and likely seeing all of us die and the faith in our god losing its purchase in Abadd for another millennium - or trying to preserve the followers of the Death God who were under my direct protection. Effectiveness as a ruler is about making those tough decisions. Because - as my dear wife pointed out - you were tragically never crowned, you have never had to bear this burden, cousin.”
“You are no kin of mine,” Dero hissed.
“Of course we are,” said Kamila. “All elves are related, if you go back far enough. We spring from a common root. The humans are a closely related tree, but we are your true kin. Probably the closest you have left, besides a handful of remnants, refugees of your people’s exodus.” Her tone sounded oddly sympathetic, despite her words.
But Dero looked incensed.
“I would even tie our families closer,” Colin said in a rush, before the dark elf could say anything in response. “Because I value the dark elf diaspora. We are all fruit fallen from the same tree, all destined to return to the same origin. Listen, Dero, I have an eldest daughter, a middle son, and a younger daughter - the last, off flying with Eolas, likely to return tomorrow or the day after for the Beastking’s negotiations. By typical high elven law, my eldest should inherit my throne after I pass, regardless of sex. But if you would be willing to join our houses, I would betroth you to my son and push him forward in the line of succession. When I passed the throne on, it would belong to you and him. You would be restored to your status of elven royalty, and the dark elves would again have the position of prominence that they deserve, in our united front against the enemies of the Death God.”
“Honey,” began Kamila, looking uncomfortable, “we should discuss this with our advisors and the children before extending such an—”
“I already have a better offer, but thanks anyway,” Dero said mockingly, interrupting with a smirk.
At that, both Colin and Kamila looked affronted.
The King was the first one to speak.
“Your ‘better offer,’ if you’re serious, could only be some human princeling,” Colin said after a moment. “Consider, Dero, that whatever grudge you hold against me, accepting such a match would not help you to restore your race’s place in the world. We have isolated ourselves here for a reason. Contact with humans destroys demihuman societies. Just ask the Beastking here. The last we checked on the beastfolk, they were a fruit withering on the vine. Your fate among humans would be no different. Whatever children you produced would be half-human and half-elf, with extended lifespan compared to a normal human’s - centuries instead of decades - but half that of a full-blooded elf. A high elf dark elf hybrid, by contrast, is still a full-blooded elf. They’ll live for centuries and likely produce more children over that time. If you care about repopulating the dark elves, you should consider that your elven ancestry would eventually be drowned in a sea of human blood, as your descendants marry into the society they’re born into again and again, until they are no longer recognizably elven at all.”
Kamila was less delicate in her response.
“A stray dark elf Princess, walking the land without protection or any indication of her legitimacy besides her recognizable face, managed to somehow get a ‘better offer’ than a royal match?” she asked scornfully. “I doubt it. You insult us with those flippant words. If you want to turn my son down without bothering to meet him, you could at least state the true reason why.”
“I’m the better offer,” Tybalt said, before his fiancee could reply. He put an arm around Dero, and she leaned against him with an exaggerated familiarity. The two had been intimate - multiple times, now - and Dero was easily one of his more unabashedly lustful partners. But she had never seemed to be a cuddly person, especially not in public. Now she allowed herself to hang off of him slightly, if perhaps only to annoy the high elf royals.
It felt nice, even as he had some questions about what Colin had said.
“Your marriage suggestion is therefore regretfully rejected,” Dero said, sounding like she felt no regret whatsoever.
“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Tybalt said. “You and my fiancee have a long and complicated history, it seems.”
“In truth, even if I had known the two of you were together, I would still be tempted to try to keep Dero in Lutnia,” Colin said after a moment. “Everything is negotiable. It’s a simple fact that her presence specifically, and the presence of her bloodline in general, is valuable. Even if I can teach myself some of her family’s magic, I am only one man. Most elves do not have millennia to study. A far higher impact move than encouraging some of my mages to train in magic they’re not naturally suited toward would be simply encouraging her to reproduce here. In a matter of a few hundred years, we could have thousands of dark elves practicing the skills that come with her class, working in our defense.”
“I think we already gave you an answer,” Dero said flatly. “Rude to persist in asking. But nice of you to acknowledge you only want me here because my class and skills are useful.”
“I just want the two of you to consider the matter more thoughtfully,” Colin said carefully. “I don’t mean to suggest that you’ve decided your fates recklessly, but there is always another angle.”
That always-another-angle way of thinking is your problem, the necromancer thought. It’s how you became paralyzed here on this island, living amidst impressive magic and beautiful architecture, thoroughly harmless to your enemies on the continent. Effectively neutered. It’s at the point where “a few hundred years” sounds like a short time to wait for a few thousand mages to reach maturity for his army.
“Changing the subject from matters that are frankly no one’s business but Dero’s and mine, we should probably discuss why the two of you pretended to be beggars,” Tybalt said. “If it was distrust of two foreigners, that’s fair enough, I suppose. But I suspect it was something more. After that, my fiancee and I would like the chance to settle in, I think. There will be much to talk about over the next day or two, and we will no doubt need our strength.”
“The true reason for pretending to be beggars is complicated,” Colin said. “But it ties into other things that we needed to discuss. Recently, there have been some assassination attempts…”