The Dichotomy of Cold Hearts

[Cydnar]

The Kalev Highlands called to Cydnar, and Cydnar cried to them in return. He had sought a home for the Hummel for a decade, and at every turn, the government of Salvar had crushed his hopes. Time and time again, the newly formed senate rebuked every political and legal advance they made to claim a state in the frozen heart of the north.

“This is a risky strategy, you know that, right?”

Dalasi furrowed his brow.

Cydnar nodded. Despite his intelligent, and proclivity for diplomacy, every elf had to throw in his dice once in a lifetime. If this approach did not work, then the Hummel refugees were left with only one choice – to return to the Under Dark. To return to the ruination left in the wake of Yrene’s death.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“You sound like Eburi…,” Dalasi chuckled.

“He has had a profound impact on our lives, beard and blade and all.”

They sat in silence for a few awkward moments, eyes keenly locked on the tavern door. The patrons ignored them, for the most part. Knife’s Edge had lost its xenophobic edge in the wake of Denebriel’s death. A solidarity amongst its people fell away, replaced with a new, uncertain, and common goal – survival.

“How did you get in touch with him after all these years?” Dalasi’s curiosity got the better of him. He sipped his wine, almond and rosemary hinted red. “Did you hear his dwarven friends a mile off?”

Cydnar pointed to the door as it opened.

“As him yourself, brother.”

In a flurry of snow and the clad of night, the ranger Artemis entered the tavern at the foot of the ruins of Denebriel’s temple. Piety oozed in and fluttered the candles at the centre of each rickety table. A swell of energy formed in Cydnar’s fingertips, cascading out to the door and filling the air with a maelstrom of crystalline flecks.

“Artemis!” Dalasi shouted, enthusiastic to be getting down it after a tedious month of nothingness. “Join us, old friend. Warm yourself by the…candle.”

[SirArtemis]

Artemis entered the tavern with a smile for old acquaintances, closing the door behind him to stop the chill from disrupting the other patrons. He didn’t feel the cold himself, but mindfulness and consideration were rare enough in this city, especially among these folk. The proximity of this tavern to the church, and its employees, reeked of religious arrogance and entitlement.

Ignoring them all, and almost daring them to make a fuss, Artemis walked over to the pair of hummel and seated himself.

“So we meet again,” he said as he scooted his chair forward. “What is it that made you look for me a second time? Some grand scheme for your people I presume?” He laughed before noticing the brief look exchanged by the two. “Wow. again?”

“It isn’t so simple,” Cydnar began, setting down his glass of wine on the thick oak of the table. “I had hoped that in the time since we last met that perhaps you’d acquired some . . . connections, if you will.”

“I told you in the letter that I’m not exactly connected. The people who come buying wares at the Norlond Forge aren’t exactly high net worth individuals.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, I still felt that maybe we could find some mutually beneficial arrangement.” Cydnar reached forward for his glass and brought it to his lips, mulling over the flavor and likewise his thoughts.

“We are putting everything we have on the line with this, Artemis,” Dalasi interjected. His expression seemed far more impatient than his diplomatic counterpart. “We continue to risk our people on you, and there are only so many chances we should be taking on an outsider.”

“Well, inside or outside, I won’t be that hurt if you move along without me. I can offer what help I may, but again, the benefit may not be what you had hoped for.” As he spoke, a plump redheaded waitress had come by with a tray, setting it in front of Artemis. “Ah, thank you, but I didn’t order this.”

“We did,” Cydnar offered, raising the glass in a toast. “Hopefully I remembered something of your taste.” He gave the waitress a nod and she turned and sauntered away, back to her duties.

On the tray, a hearty slice of beef sizzled beneath melted cheese, set beside a mound of mashed potatoes with brown gravy ladled over. A small pot of tea and a porcelain cup completed the ensemble. Artemis reached for the teapot immediately, lifting the lid up and giving the infusion a deep smell.

“Oh boy,” he said, reaching for the small mesh basket that sat steeping in the hot water. “They burned the living shit out of this.” He chuckled softly, always amused by the lack of awareness people in this region had for a fine cup of tea. He had always assumed that the cold climate would have given the people of Salvar a finer appreciation for a properly steeped hot cup of tea.

“Well, hopefully the meal itself is satisfactory,” Cydnar added with a frown, disappointed that his gesture hadn’t gone as smoothly as he hoped. “Perhaps while you eat, I can explain the details a bit further.”

[Cydnar]

Between begrudging mouthfuls, Cydnar explained their particular situation to an old friend. Oblivious to the drama unfolding, the patrons of the tavern continued their own self-indulgent ruminations. The waiters continued to spiral carefully between tables, laying out equally well-done, but sustaining meals to travellers, tramps, and troubadours.

“The Salvarian government rebuked us at every turn. Their objections, however, appear to be against us settling in what they view as ‘the heartlands’, the seat of their power.”

“Growing power,” Artemis corrected. “They’ve seen an opportunity to finally be rid of Denebriel’s clutches.” He poured a cup of tea with the grace of kings. “Can you blame them?”

“Men are rather fond of keeping things close to their chest,” Dalasi sighed.

Artemis smiled.

“Not to sound condescending, but the brevity of a man’s life is most frustrating.”

“Oh, you should try being as brief as we are.”

Cydnar realised his error. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“No, no need to apologise. I understand. The dwarves of Kachuk look at me in the same way, though it’s not malicious.” The ranger leant back in his chair to pick sour dough and beef tendrils, politely, from his teeth.

“We hope the Kalev Highlands will be a more suitable proposal.”

To the north, the Kalev proved inhospitable, even to the roaming warbands of orcs who made it their obsession to harass Salvarian borders when they raided the country from Berevar. Even the Church of the Eternal Sway held no altars there, abandoning it to the darker inhabitants of their realm decades ago. It was a godless place, in every way.

“Have you approached the council?” Artemis raised an eyebrow, and reached for his tea. Bergamot tendrils spiralled up into the rafters, a delicate counterpoint to tavern ‘cuisine’.

Cydnar took a moment. He drew on the flecks of quartz he had conjured to greet Artemis, and pulled them together into a whirl at the centre of their table. He pictured a wine glass, and with little effort it formed before them. A dark, violet quartz at the stem, it tapered into a pink flute. A second began to form by its side, and Dalasi gestured to a waiter.

“They will no longer listen to our petitions.”

“My brother means he’s badgered them to death.” Dalasi chuckled, and when the waiter appeared by their table, he ordered a glass of Ice Wine, and another to follow when it was spent.

“Can I deduce that’s where I come in?” Artemis figured he was not here for a social visit. Though it was nice to reminisce.

In their last visit, the Council decreed the Hummel would need the backing of a Salvarian of note. Given their isolation, neither of the Yrene brothers could name anyone asides Artemis Eburi.

“Your vouch, your weighing in on the matter may prove decisive in securing a long term solution to our homelessness.” A sincere expression preceded a warm smile as Dalasi poured the Ice Wine, and the evening could begin proper. The geomancer took a sip, relaxed, and then too an ample gulp.

“What do you say?” Dalasi raised his glass.

[SirArtemis]

Artemis spun his porcelain cup on its dish as he mulled over the proposition. The reference to the Kalev Highlands resonated in the man’s mind as he thought back to his journey to the far north. His time there was not exactly ideal and involved stopping a potential catastrophe. However, he couldn’t deny the unique characteristics of the enclosed region.

“I have my own interested in the Kalev Highlands, but I do have someone in the region that I have a good relationship with. Have you heard of the Hamorearm family?” Artemis prompted.

“The rules of Andvall?” Dalasi laughed, as though the very name seemed preposterous.

“They guard the gate to the highlands as I recall. Lord Hamorearm resides in the keep at the southeast entrance. Why is that relevant?” Cydnar asked.

“Well, not long ago I helped the current lord of that region, Jacob, deal with some unfortunate familial issues. Perhaps he can help.”

Cydnar and Dalasi exchanged glances, surprised that their plan to reach out to the ranger could actually prove fruitful.

“What did you have in mind?” Cydnar asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Well, if we are done with our meal, I can teleport the three of us up to the gate and we can walk from there. I’m sure we’d be received and have a chance to speak with Lord Hamorearm alone. We can figure things out after that.” Artemis lifted his tea cup, downing the remaining liquid and set it down before rising from the table. “Shall we go?”

__________________________________________________ _______________

Soon after, the trio had traveled across the lands of the north, landing on the same hill Artemis had not long ago on his trip. The fortress stood a kilometer north, with an unbelievably massive wall spanning the distance as far as the eye can see; it traced a line from the northwest where the mountain range erupted from the landscape and crawled along the border to a large lake to the east.

Beyond the wall stood an even more impressive structure towering seven stories high. The architecture resembled an hourglass with an exceptionally wide center; a quartet of pillars acted as support for the elegant design. The limited access to the higher floors likely served as a defensive advantage to ensure that the leaders remained secure at the top. A trio of walls surrounded the keep adding layers of protection beyond the massive barrier splitting the region from the rest of Salvar.

“That’s our goal,” Artemis added, realizing he likely hadn’t needed to. “They should still recognize me and there’s a woman who works with the Lord who will likely know we are coming. It’s a bit of a walk, but when we get an audience, we should be able to figure out the details then.

[Cydnar]

The wall stood near four stories tall made of large blocks of stone melded together flawlessly by magic, as old perhaps as Knife’s Edge. As old as the mountains. A gate of dark and rich wood, reinforced by bar after bar of dehlar, had been raised just enough to allow carts to pass through Cydnar had to admire the architecture, the sheer immensity of men undertaking such a project. Half a life spent quarrying and the other half spent bent crooked as a stonemason. It put the Hummel’s way of life into perspective: they could build homes in days, and cities in weeks.

“Why does our would -be patron require such an imposing home?” Dalasi crossed the threshold first, his thoughts a little less grandiose and philosophical.

Artemis followed, and after a moment alone in the desperate night, Cydnar pursued. They walked in a line, snaking through the gardens that divided the wall from the interior territories. Even in the moonlight, the grounds looked resplendent. Crooked trees jutted out from alpine rockeries and small pools, silver in the shadows, promised secrets.

“Even in a remote area of Salvar like this, the threat of invasion remains.” Artemis gestured to the keep in the north. “You can see for leagues from the upper floors, and the Hamorearm’s family come from a long line of military.”

“Ah, an outpost, then.” Dalasi pulled the threads together. When you put anything in the context of war, his interest bristled.

“Has there been an invasion here in recent years?”

Eburi shrugged. They walked through a small hedge and broke out into a wide meadow. The flowers, unrecognisable in the gloom swayed to and fro. Though sheltered from the wind, vespers rolled over the walls to give life to their surroundings.

“There were rumours of an uprising in the orc clans eighteen months ago. A man with a long spear and an orc from Radasanth put an end to it.”

“Now that sounds like a story!” Dalasi smiled.

“I thought only elves were arrogant and paranoid.” Cydnar reached out into the night, searching for elements in the ground to draw upon. He did not expect to have to fight his way to the tower, but he was too old and too bitter to let his guard down.

“Salvar is a special breed of contemptuous,” Artemis had dealt with enough of the nobility, and the hegemony that held the country together in it’s resurgence to take an air of authority. “When we meet with Hamorearm, if we meet, let me do the talking. He owes me one.”

“Gladly.” Cydnar drew his cloak tight over his shoulders.

The meadow seemed to last an age. It turned into trees, sparsely littering earthy, springy ground. In the dark, each of the trio made out traces of hoofprints spiralling through the landscape. They followed them when they gathered into a furrow, and arrived into a series of small domed structures. Four in all, connected with a privet fence and flagstoned path to a central, taller dome. They stopped on the edge of the area, side by side, uncertain.

“What is this for?” Dalasi rested his hands on his hips. The moon caught his pauldrons, his white skin like a white hot ember.

“A Piety Garden. It used to be for devotees of the Sway to reflect on their sins.” Artemis had heard rumours that in these places, those proven to be heretics, or even so much as accused were whipped ‘beneath Denebriel’s gaze’. “I doubt the Lord has used it. The reach of the Church is weak this far north. They even have a chapel for the old gods within the walls.”

“I thought the nobles were zealous in their faith?” Cydnar’s perception of the country prior to the death of the Church’s figure head, alas, were informed only by the bitter ruminations of people unfortunate enough to find themselves on the wrong side of an altar.

“The Hamorearm family, as I mentioned, is military. Their power depends on getting shit done, not muttering words and bending a knee. Though they do occasionally anyway, as you’d expect; wouldn’t you?”

Cydnar’s mood worsened. They walked in silence about the garden, rejoining the direct route to the tower when the domes gave way to a wide thoroughfare lined with sycamore trees still clinging to the last life of Autumn. The ground crunched underfoot, brown leaves immortalised in the permafrost.

“All the same,” Artemis said abruptly, as though picking up his thoughts. “It will be best to not mention your particular religious beliefs. Whilst the Lord might have abandoned the Church, some of his family - and servants, might belong to the Acolytes.”

“Are they the ones causing riots in the south?” Dalasi had been on many patrols over the last year. Time and time again, he saw evidence of the Church’s ashes trying to rekindle a fire. Madmen, painted white and screaming blasphemies to the idea of democracy and peace running through the streets of villages and towns - wherever they could take root, be heard, they blossomed like knotweed.

“Unfortunately.” Artemis too saw how stubborn Salvar could be. “That’s part of why I’m joining you for this expedition.”

“Tell me more about what you’ve been doing since we last parted ways, this talk of gods is doing my mood no end of harm.”

For the first time in what seemed like months, Dalasi looked at his brother with disdain. He dropped back, to take up the rear, and listened to Artemis recant likely tall tales. He came to realise that his dedication to protecting the survivors of his race had placed a barrier between the siblings. He still had a place in the world, yet Cydnar was adrift. He bit his lip, trying to find the words to rebuild bridges long before construction started.

[SirArtemis]

As they approached the gate to the first wall encircling the keep, Nevette Adylon stood awaiting the trio of wanderers. The first wall, least imposing of the three, with just a story and a half of fine black stone construction. Guards flanked the gate from the outside and more stood atop the relatively small wall.

“Do you ever have surprise visitors?” Artemis asked the beautiful woman playfully. The woman’s prescient vision, serving as a sort of divination, gave her impressive foresight.

“I do, but that’s not for the public to know about,” she winked, tucking a curl of dark chestnut hair behind an ear. Her simple garb matched the color of her locks of hair, but her eyes betrayed her. Their almost prismatic nature, as dark as the night sky above and littered with flakes of starlight, exuded power and knowledge far beyond her simple appearance. “You are here to see our Lord, yes?”

“Do you foresee that as well?” Artemis laughed.

“Just a guess. I imagine you aren’t here to see me, after all?” Their flirtations, however innocent, left Dalasi raising an eyebrow, whereas Cydnar handled it in stride.

“These are two old friends of mine. I was hoping the three of us could have a brief exchange with Lord Hamorearm, if at all possible. It is in regard to the region and our own interests.”

“I think that’ll do. He is expecting you. Follow me, and as before, do keep quiet during our walk. We don’t want idle ears eavesdropping on anything that isn’t for them to hear.”

The three men followed the woman quietly, taking the long walk through the three walls to the hilltop upon which sat the keep itself. Artemis contrasted the change in the demeanor and quality of life of the people to when he last visited. The current Lord’s brother, and former Lord, had been extorting coin from his people to the very limits of their existence. Poverty had been the norm, with little exception.

With Jacob now in the seat of power, with Artemis’ help, the town began to flourish once more, albeit slowly. Whereas smiles had been exceptionally rare during his original journey, now joy and laughter and, most importantly of all, hope could all be seen and felt amongst the townsfolk. With coin finding its way back into the pockets of its people, traders slowly began to learn the news and brought their wares for sale once again. The bland and purely practical lifestyle of old, and extremely minimalist, now hinted at the slightest luxury.

’It seems you made the correct choice in helping depose Krysteave,’ Judicis noted, the sentient artifact forever in his mind.

’Yes. It is always refreshing to see a choice end well. Every one I make may not have such clear results, though this is encouraging.’

After what truly felt like a lifetime of walking in silence, they finally arrived in at the keep, and once again Nevette guided Artemis, and now his two allies, through its impeccable defenses. Each door seemed to be equipped with bolts and bars, showing every passage could be thoroughly secured in a moment’s notice. They also passed a handful of times through what must have been teleportation portals of some kind; a prismatic membrane would appear within a doorway and the four would find themselves in another hallway. The process made it impossible to know the way.

After many minutes, they all finally arrived in a beautifully decorated bedchamber. The elegant and luxurious tapestries that had hung against large stone walls had been taken down. Rich velvet curtains of burgundy tied with golden ropes hugged the large windows, from which one could see the marvelous structure of the wall that split the Kalev Highlands from the rest of Salvar. A remarkably hand-crafted liviol desk of a similar color stood in the center of the room, a few meters from a four-post bed clearly made by the same craftsman with a collection of plush pillows and sheets.

Lord Krysteave sat at that desk, his six foot tall frame hunched over a mound of paperwork. He wore his usual militaria regalia, his epaulettes with two silver tassels now joined by a third tassel of gold to distinguish him as the highest ranking officer and Lord of the keep. His shaven head reflected the dim light hanging above, and his goatee of rich brown showed a bit more gray than when Artemis had met the man.

“Ah, well met once again, Artemis,” Lord Hamorearm replied, rising from his seat and setting down his pen. “I wanted to thank you once more for all your help.” He stepped around the desk and approached the ranger, extending a hand.

“It looks to have been the right choice, from what little I have seen of the changes you’ve made. I’m glad everything is working out.” Artemis shook the man’s hand in return before turning to his two allies. “I would like to introduce you to Cydnar and Dalasi, representatives of the hummel people. The three of us have come to speak with you about potential settlements in the Kalev Highlands.”

Jacob nodded, gesturing to a collection of fine seats surrounding a hearth. “Anything to get away from paperwork.”