NationStates Jolt Archive

The warship escorts had left off there escorting duties before they hit the waters claimed as sovreignty by the people of Resurgent Dream. On vessel, a cutter, slipped through the water quickly making it's way toward the dock. The sailors began trimming the sails as the land came into sight and on the prow a single figure stood.

It was decked in black armor with a red dragon diving, breathing fire, emblazoned on the chest. One sword hung from the right hip and shield with highport's crest was slung on it's back. A black piece of cloth fluttered from one shoulder shield in remembrence of the recent deaths in Dragonsreach. The helm was close faced with the faceplate down, but glacial blue eyes peered out at the harbor into which they sailed.

The ship moved up to a slip and several sailors leaped onto the quay, catching the ropes that were tossed to them and tying her down. A gangplank was extended and the armored figure made it's way from the bow to the plank and onto the dock.

"Return to the ship", it said in a deep, rumbling voice that seemed more accustomed to shouting orders on the field of battle than in talking. He scanned the dock and noted the heavy security and reaching down, tied the peace tie around the hilt of the sword at his side that was meant to show his intent to be non-hostile. He then stepped forward and waited for a security to come, which after recent events, he was sure would.

Security actually inspected the ship on entry to port and on docking and then inspected the man. They arched a brow slightly at the peace tied sword. After a moment, they nodded him through.

He turned to face the security men, "The Palace, please, specifically her grace, the Duchess Beatrice. I fear that the last time I was here I arrived by a very different means."

The man arched a brow a little. "The nearest trod to Garmar is a few miles outside of town. I can call a car for you if you'd like."

He had no idea what a trod was and was beginning to think more and more that he should pay more attention to what was happening outside the borders of Highport and Dragonsreach.

"If you would be so kind, I would appreciate", he told him.

The man nodded, walking over to the phone and calling him a car. It arrived a few minutes later. The chauffeur got out and opened the door for the man.

Turquine eyed the car, he hated these things. Better a good strong horse than a metal contraption. He removed his helm, the wings having a habit of catching the roof and tearing it, and lowered the chain head protection. This showed the scarred face beneath and the severed left earlobe. He tried to slip in only to have his sword catch, and removed that too. Finally he was in and waiting. .

This was another thing he hated. He was relying on the skill of the driver instead of being able to drive himself. He could learn, he figured, but he was too old to bother.

Turquine was driven to a large stone ring several miles from the city. The chauffeur let him out in front of it.

Turquine got out and replaced his sword, coif and helm then looked at the driver. "I don't understand", he rumbled, "what is this place?"

The driver arched a brow slightly. "This is a trod Your Majesty. It's already been opened and ensorcelled so as to let anyone pass who walks through it. It'll take you into Garmar. Trods are the only way to get to Garmar. You are seeking to speak to the Grand Duchess of Garmar. Once on the other side, it's only a few miles to the Crystal Palace."

The only thing Turquine could think of that meant was teleportation. Ariel's dimension walk didn't bother him but teleporting always left him feeling quesy and disoriented for a few precious seconds once it was done. He didn't show any of this, simply nodded, "Thank you."

He stepped forward and into the stone circle.

It doesn't feel like teleporting. It feels like walking through mists. On the other side, the king finds himself standing on a shining silver road. To either side stand towering forests of bright green trees, brighter and more glorious than normal earthly trees. The clouds above him seem to be made of cotton candy and singing seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Turquine took off the peace tie and looked down the road and at the forest. "Nice directions", he muttered, as no palace seemed to be in sight. He picked a direction at random and began walking down the road.

Eventually, the towering spires of shining crystal could be seen in the distance. Two Troll guards bow to the King and a Boggan ushers him before the Grand Duchess, who rises and curtsies, looking at him with blind, unseeing eyes.

"Grand Duchess", he said, bowing to her and once again removing the helm and coif. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Turquine Buccannah, father of Lauralin Silverlief. I have come to extend my deepest sympathy for your plight. As the abduction occured in my lands then I am the one in your debt until such time as the slight to you is repayed. Considering what I have heard, that may be a long way off indeed. But if either myself, or the nation of Highport, can at all be of service, you have but to ask. Is there anything you will of me, Grand Duchess, that I might fulfill at this time?"

Beatrice blinked once. "Nothing immediate." She sounded rather shocked and confused.

"Then I shall offer my most sincere apology at this time. Enos Yorl will pay for this crimes against you. If it's at all an option then he will be brought here to be tried by your court. I doubt that will happen, he's eluded us thus far and will probably die rather than be caught. I wish I could have come sooner but things were hectic at home for some time, though they are improving. Again, I am sorry for the horrible mistreatment you suffered while traveling in my lands."

He stood, waiting to see if there was anything at all that she might want. He was rather surprised that she was doing as well as she was. A true noble in every sense to hold herself with such bearing.

Beatrice shook her head. "Capture him, Your Majesty, and I will consider the matter settled."

'Difficult', Turquine thought, the old mage was powerful and wiley, one of only three of the most powerful to survive the mage wars.

"He'll be brought to you, I'll see to it." He bowed to the Duchess and then waited to be dismissed.

Beratrice nodded. "Thank you."

Turquine nodded and bowed again, "Duchess", he said in departure and turned to walk out. He stopped and turned, "How do I return to Resurgent Dream?" he asked, "from the same location that I arrived here?"

Beatrice nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. Trods go both ways."

Turquine nodded and bowed again, making his way back to the Trod. At least this was something tangable he could deal with. He tired of ruling, but this was something he could deal with phyically.