Shining Ys
11-07-2008, 02:35
Caeryn Theranez, Captain of the Ys City Guard, surveyed the wreckage out on the open sea from high atop the imposing walls of the island fortress. The wind drove biting rain into his hard, stony face as he stared out over the battlements. Dots on the horizon, and fewer in the sky, were still visible; the remnants of what had just happened, save those that floated in a thousand pieces on the rolling sea. The first battle fought by Ys in living memory, if it could be called that. He shook his head. Elves, coming from the south west. It made no sense. No cartographer or explorer had ever travelled to lands further than Ys, though their existence was spoken of in rumour and legend. Rumour and legend… He grunted. Only a madman retreated from a battle with almost his whole army intact for any reason but one: to regroup. They might not survive the next attack. This one had been a close call - without the polyboloi, likely there would be fighting in the streets by now. Huge strips of cloth and planks of wood lay among the wreckage. No one had believed it when they saw it, but they did see it, with their own eyes: the elves had brought flying ships. Flying ships, floating past the walls of Ys on their great balloons, like pictures from a childrens’ book. Yet, there they were, rumour and legend. He grunted again.
Rumour and bloody legend. That was what the Ysians were, as far as most mainlanders were concerned. They had not had any formal contact with the mainland nations for centuries. Enterprising Ysian merchants were scoffed at when they revealed their nationality abroad, the craftsmanship they bore in their vessels assumed to be elven.
Between elves and legend, he couldn’t think straight. He had to make his report to the Duchess, he could not afford time for contemplation.
~
Youenna IV stared blankly up at the grand stained glass ceiling of her throne room. A battle, at the walls of Ys. Centuries without a battle, and now one should be fought during her reign. Theranez was still speaking, she could hear him, but she could not listen. The unthinkable had happened, and she would have to deal with it. This was the oldest room of the vast palace complex, though no one knew how old - only that it was old enough for the same throne she now sat on to have been carved by the hands of the nameless king who had founded Ys, longer ago than anyone could know. She allowed herself a small sigh, hoping none of her court would see it, and turned to face her Guard Captain. She cut him off, mid sentence; he was reporting casualties.
“You are certain they were elves?” she half-snapped, eyes icy.
“Well, aye, my Duchess, our physicians have examined the bodies--”
“Hmm.” A small frown creased her brow, a brow not used to a frown on a pretty face used to little but a smile. “The polyboloi cannot hold off another attack?”
“My Duchess, had the enemy not retreated, we would not have held off this attack,” her Guard Captain reported, sounding a little too exasperated for her liking.
“Then there is nothing else to be done. We cannot fight these enemies alone. We must contact the mainland and ask their aid.” The words sounded strange, even though she spoke them herself. The word “mainland” was not commonly spoken in Ysian, though it had seen more usage in the last few hours perhaps than in the rest of the decade combined. “The Seven Realms. Yes, an emissary must be sent to the Seven Realms. We trade with them more than anyone else, they are closest, and they hold some influence. Most importantly, they believe in us.”
One of her courtiers raised his head, looking around frantically, eyes wide, mouth working wordlessly for a moment. “My Duchess, i-if I may! This is most unusual! There is a reason we have not spoken to the mainlanders for hundreds of years. Who is to even say they will believe that an emissary from Ys is truly from Ys?”
She cut him off before he could continue. “You speak the truth, wise counseller, but do not worry. I shall go myself, the Dres Drouis and the Drouez de Rouantilez shall accompany me.” The druids looked up from their bows, also, then quickly lowered their heads again. “As well as my personal bodyguard, of course. We will bring also one of the recovered bodies - have it embalmed - so that they will not doubt our story. I mean to leave by sunrise, see that all is ready.” She waved her hands at the court in dismissal, and a rumble of murmurs filtered out of the throne room.
~
The Duchess of Ys held her head high, pretty face stern and staring. It was a well-practiced posture, and with it, it had not been long before she had been granted an audience. What irritated her was that she had needed to wait at all - not that the lodgings provided were not comfortable. At least she had not been required to meet with the king in private without her druids in attendance - she could not conduct diplomacy with a hundred mainlander diseases. Her crown, leaves and flowers woven onto a twisted golden vine, a single ruby at its front, sat perfectly on the golden, wavy locks of hair that had been swept back over her shoulders for this occasion. She wore a dress, one that covered her arms for the mainlanders’ sake, made from what must have been a hundred different materials in a hundred different shades of brown, orange, red and cream. She seemed almost autumn incarnate, appropriate for a woman widely thought of as little more than a fairytale. The druids, fifty of Ys’s finest, formed a colum in ranks of five behind her, bedecked in odd regalia stitched with leaves and green fabrics, and to either side of the procession, grim-faced Wall Guard formed a long line, standing at attention in burnished ceremonial uniform. Bugles sounded from beyond the doors of the great hall, and she ensured her back was straight. The doors swung open, and she proceeded inside, her stride proud and confident. Stopping at the centre of the hall, she dipped in a low curtsy, then stood and smiled.
“High King Stonesmasher, I bring word from Ys.”
((@ Beta Aurigae VII: I took as little liberty as possible in describing your throne room. I hope it's alright - the situation is the Ysian envoy being granted audience, if it wasn't obvious. The rest is a bit of background.
@ The Scandinvans: I hope the title's okay, it can be changed if you'd like something else - just seemed appropriate for this little chunk of the story.
@ Everyone: Hope this is good enough, sorry about all these notes!))
Rumour and bloody legend. That was what the Ysians were, as far as most mainlanders were concerned. They had not had any formal contact with the mainland nations for centuries. Enterprising Ysian merchants were scoffed at when they revealed their nationality abroad, the craftsmanship they bore in their vessels assumed to be elven.
Between elves and legend, he couldn’t think straight. He had to make his report to the Duchess, he could not afford time for contemplation.
~
Youenna IV stared blankly up at the grand stained glass ceiling of her throne room. A battle, at the walls of Ys. Centuries without a battle, and now one should be fought during her reign. Theranez was still speaking, she could hear him, but she could not listen. The unthinkable had happened, and she would have to deal with it. This was the oldest room of the vast palace complex, though no one knew how old - only that it was old enough for the same throne she now sat on to have been carved by the hands of the nameless king who had founded Ys, longer ago than anyone could know. She allowed herself a small sigh, hoping none of her court would see it, and turned to face her Guard Captain. She cut him off, mid sentence; he was reporting casualties.
“You are certain they were elves?” she half-snapped, eyes icy.
“Well, aye, my Duchess, our physicians have examined the bodies--”
“Hmm.” A small frown creased her brow, a brow not used to a frown on a pretty face used to little but a smile. “The polyboloi cannot hold off another attack?”
“My Duchess, had the enemy not retreated, we would not have held off this attack,” her Guard Captain reported, sounding a little too exasperated for her liking.
“Then there is nothing else to be done. We cannot fight these enemies alone. We must contact the mainland and ask their aid.” The words sounded strange, even though she spoke them herself. The word “mainland” was not commonly spoken in Ysian, though it had seen more usage in the last few hours perhaps than in the rest of the decade combined. “The Seven Realms. Yes, an emissary must be sent to the Seven Realms. We trade with them more than anyone else, they are closest, and they hold some influence. Most importantly, they believe in us.”
One of her courtiers raised his head, looking around frantically, eyes wide, mouth working wordlessly for a moment. “My Duchess, i-if I may! This is most unusual! There is a reason we have not spoken to the mainlanders for hundreds of years. Who is to even say they will believe that an emissary from Ys is truly from Ys?”
She cut him off before he could continue. “You speak the truth, wise counseller, but do not worry. I shall go myself, the Dres Drouis and the Drouez de Rouantilez shall accompany me.” The druids looked up from their bows, also, then quickly lowered their heads again. “As well as my personal bodyguard, of course. We will bring also one of the recovered bodies - have it embalmed - so that they will not doubt our story. I mean to leave by sunrise, see that all is ready.” She waved her hands at the court in dismissal, and a rumble of murmurs filtered out of the throne room.
~
The Duchess of Ys held her head high, pretty face stern and staring. It was a well-practiced posture, and with it, it had not been long before she had been granted an audience. What irritated her was that she had needed to wait at all - not that the lodgings provided were not comfortable. At least she had not been required to meet with the king in private without her druids in attendance - she could not conduct diplomacy with a hundred mainlander diseases. Her crown, leaves and flowers woven onto a twisted golden vine, a single ruby at its front, sat perfectly on the golden, wavy locks of hair that had been swept back over her shoulders for this occasion. She wore a dress, one that covered her arms for the mainlanders’ sake, made from what must have been a hundred different materials in a hundred different shades of brown, orange, red and cream. She seemed almost autumn incarnate, appropriate for a woman widely thought of as little more than a fairytale. The druids, fifty of Ys’s finest, formed a colum in ranks of five behind her, bedecked in odd regalia stitched with leaves and green fabrics, and to either side of the procession, grim-faced Wall Guard formed a long line, standing at attention in burnished ceremonial uniform. Bugles sounded from beyond the doors of the great hall, and she ensured her back was straight. The doors swung open, and she proceeded inside, her stride proud and confident. Stopping at the centre of the hall, she dipped in a low curtsy, then stood and smiled.
“High King Stonesmasher, I bring word from Ys.”
((@ Beta Aurigae VII: I took as little liberty as possible in describing your throne room. I hope it's alright - the situation is the Ysian envoy being granted audience, if it wasn't obvious. The rest is a bit of background.
@ The Scandinvans: I hope the title's okay, it can be changed if you'd like something else - just seemed appropriate for this little chunk of the story.
@ Everyone: Hope this is good enough, sorry about all these notes!))