Chapter 47: The Duchess, the Mage, and the Envoy
Valyne followed the palace steward down a polished hallway lined with gold veined marble and anxious silence. Her footsteps echoed lightly behind the servant’s, her long robe brushing against the stone floor like a whisper of mischief. The corridors were grand and reserved. Adorned with deep red banners and the polished crests of House Vellgard. It smelled faintly of citrus oil, parchment, and barely concealed tension.
The doors ahead opened with theatrical ceremony, of course they did and she was ushered into a throne room that was far more understated than she had expected for a city known for its gilded name. No towering columns or gem inlaid flooring. Just authority wrapped in quiet discipline.
Two women occupied the chamber.
One sat upon the throne with the weary poise of someone balancing pride on top of exhaustion, her posture measured, regal, and just a touch wary. The other sat slightly to her right, legs crossed, fingers folded atop a thick, rune etched tome. Sharp eyed and still, she exuded the kind of calm that only came with magical control and, Valyne noted, the unmistakable aura of being very prepared to murder someone.
Valyne’s gaze locked on the woman to the right.
Aether shimmered faintly around her like a restless mist. Valyne didn’t need to focus to see the thin lattice of displacement snares, spatial redirection veils, and at least one rather crude spatial anchor. All primed and humming. It was like walking into a very polite cage made entirely of subtle, unwelcoming spells.
She couldn’t help herself. Being an instructor for a long time left it’s marks on her.
Her head tilted like a curious cat examining a particularly fragile vase.
Then she turned to the throne and bowed with perfect, practiced control, low enough to show respect, not enough to concede.
"Valyne Yrithis," she announced, her voice serene and velvety, far more confident than she felt. "Magistra form Umbral Synod. Envoy of the Obsidian Gate. I come seeking an audience with Corvin Blackmoor."
She omitted her affiliation with the Umbraxis Arcanum, of course. That wasn’t for public consumption. The Arcanum, nestled within the secretive folds of the Synod’s more arcane institutions, wasn’t registered with the Council of Arbiters, because the Synod didn’t care to register what they didn’t want scrutinized. They operated the way shadows did: indirectly, without asking permission.