The morning air carried a chill of winters on its breath, the first signs of the changing of the seasons. Tayla kept her hands warm in her pockets as she walked down the Keels ramp into the plaza below. It was still early enough that folks hadn’t left for the fields, many took the chance to relax and gather before another day of hard work. Today was the great hunt, as tradition she and her siblings would have to take part, if they were lucky it would be a perfectly boring day.
Tayla had no particular destination in mind for her morning walk, she often let herself get lost as she explored the nooks and crannies of Navalia. The crisp morning air was nothing like the Keel’s processed and recycled climate systems. There was a pleasant burning as the cold wind blew over her face, carrying the salty ocean air on its current.
Pausing in the center of the plaza for a moment, she made up her mind to go down to the waterfront to take in the sunrise over the shallow sea. As Tayla walked to the edge of the plaza she took the time to look around at the citizens, while some shot uneasy glances towards the line of parked carriages on the far side of the plaza, most were smiling and jovial. Many crowded around elders, laughing while sharing stories from their past, trying to get a bit more time with them before tomorrow’s send off. Eventually someone noticed Tayla, shouting a warm greeting towards her, which sparked most of the other Twins in the plaza to greet her in kind. Tayla made sure to smile and wave at any who greeted her, while she wasn’t as great with people as her brother she still wanted to show them that she cared.
The Twin’s of the coast could be a bit reserved with unfamiliar faces, but once you got past the cold exterior you would find most to be some of the kindest folks in the whole of the empire. Unless you happened to be a triplet that was.
Yes, growing up as children to a beloved king, Tayla and Alnur were treated like gifts from the gods. Doted on by any and all, they could do no wrong. Fel on the other hand, was seen as an eyesore, most ignoring their existence all together. Her father had on more than one occasion gotten into full on brawls over someone treating Fel poorly. As a king he would never use his crown to dictate what others could or could not believe, but as a father he would throw his crown aside in a heartbeat to give someone a fat lip if they spat at the sight of his darling child. Even after Fel had grown into a seven foot tall giant capable of breaking iron with their bare hands, their father would always stand up for Fel’s fair treatment. Tayla let out a small sigh, gods she missed him.
Tayla made it to the edge of the plaza and looked down the main road to the waterfront. A part of her regretted her choice in destination as she looked down the steep hill that stretched on and on. The road was too steep for wagons or carriages, instead four grooves were cut into the road the whole length of the hill, these grooves were used as tracks for the lifts; platforms built to be pulled or lowered along the roads by pulley stations. The sidewalks were long steps of stone, it was a considerable feat to climb the main road from the waterline to the main plaza. Tayla had tried dozens of times, eventually resorting to the lifts in shame each time.
As she walked down, she passed the various store fronts that lined the main street, each one was built to be level with the steps out front, but after fifteen or twenty feet the stores would be supported by large pillars suspending the front of the buildings some dozen feet in the air. Some stores would simply build on top of a lower building, causing a staircase of buildings that cascaded down the hill like a waterfall. Unlike family houses these seldom kept with the tradition of building their structures to look like ships.
She saw a woman sitting in front of her shop at a small table playing a game of chess by herself. At least, that was what appeared to be the case. Tayla saw the woman’s lips moving silently, a common tell that a Twin was speaking to their other half. Many outgrew the habit, while many more went their whole lives not realizing they were doing it in the first place. The woman’s sibling must have been somewhere else playing along with his own chessboard. It was a shame that he was falling right into his sister's trap.
That was how it was supposed to be. Twins usually kept their connection through the link open constantly. It felt natural to come and go through the doorway that joined their minds. With the exception of private moments of course; plus, even Twins could want some personal space from their sibling.
Alnur and Tayla had an odd relationship to the link by comparison, they used it of course, but since Fel wasn’t able to join on their own they tended to avoid relying on the link.
The sound of an anvil being worked on dragged Tayla from her stupor. Most of the stores should have been closed during the festival. Though considering every year hundreds of tools would break in the fields, it was no wonder that some blacksmiths were trying to repair or remake some tools while they had the time. She went to walk past the open door of the smithy, glancing inside she stopped in her tracks, there were the Twin owners of the shop, but beside them was the Trest Graum, he was wearing his full regalia while standing next to the searing heat of the forge, completely unphased. The Twin blacksmiths by comparison were covered in sweat, cooling off with rags of cold water as they tried to beat the heat while they caught their breath. The first born was the female working the anvil, her second born brother was working on the mounting of the tools to wood. Tayla stepped inside, this was a golden opportunity to make some connections with the Trest, a rare chance indeed.
It had nothing to do with the explosive ending the night before. Definitely not.
Waiting for a momentary lull in the banging of what looked like a shovel, Tayla cleared her throat to not startle the blacksmiths before beginning. “Good morning honored cousin, I hope you are finding our city to your liking.” Tayla looked at the blacksmiths, greeting them with a wave.
The Trest man was enthralled watching the blacksmiths at work. He was so absorbed that Tayla wasn’t sure if she should repeat herself. The blacksmiths looked to Tayla, hesitant to continue for fear of interrupting her. She shrugged to them, nodding for them to continue their work. For the next couple minutes Graum didn’t move an inch, the reflection of the forge casting a red glow over his obsidian skin and eyes. The blacksmiths finished their work, turning to quench the metal. Graum held out a hand for them to stop, he reached out and before they could stop him, he grabbed the red hot metal with his bare hand. The blacksmiths stammered in protest as they worried for the man’s well being. Tayla had heard that the Trest had been engineered to survive incredible heat, but it was another thing to see it in person as he inspected the work with a keen eye.
Graum finally spoke, “The steel's carbon content is off, I take it you don’t have a proper oxygen furnace but simple blast furnaces. With the amount of impurities in this it’s no wonder your tools break often.” The man was speaking to himself more than anything it seemed. He looked lost in thought. Finally, he glanced over and noticed Tayla with a start. “My lady, I am sorry, I had not noticed you. These fine smiths were showing me the techniques of your people.” He rubbed his head with his free hand. “I can get a bit lost while in the forge. Your smiths,” He used the metal in his hand to point “are fairly skilled, it takes a lot of experience to turn poor quality material into something serviceable like this. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that as an insult, I am just used to the forges of Mount Hearthhome.”
Tayla laughed. “There is no need to apologize, our iron and steel are indeed lacking. Despite our best efforts, we could never get a proper steel mill built. So we settle for pig iron and make do with cast iron or low grade rimmed steel if we can manage to get some. Trying to get large quantities of material through the coral highlands has always been taxing. Perhaps if our proposal for a dock is permitted we can finally get started on a proper steel mill.”
Graum let out a laugh that was thunderous. “You are quick to steer our conversation to this proposed trade route. I like that, I don’t like the wishy washy language of the high court. Simple is best. You want this dock, the dock will help feed the empire, ensure work for my brothers and sister, and maybe we don’t starve as much? Bah, I say it is a simple thing, if it serves the Empire, it is a good thing.” The man was quite animated while talking.
“That sounds like an endorsement to me? If so, I am most grateful for your favorable words.”
Graum waved the cooling metal shovel head towards Tayla. “As it is said in the book of Trest, ‘keep things simple’. Now, there’s still the real chance that the low court or even the Minsetlla will put a stop to this notion of yours.
Speaking personally though, the idea of building such a structure makes me almost wish I could retire as a diplomat and oversee the construction myself.” His smile was warm and wide. Everything Tayla had heard was that the children of Trest wore their emotions on their sleeves. If they liked you, they were the first to say so. If they didn’t, well, the stories made it clear that it was never a great idea to get into a fist fight with a boulder.
The man stroked his beard as the metal braids clacked together softly. “I have been giving it some thought, why not use airships? It would avoid any risk of angering your maker and wouldn’t require such an undertaking, just an open field for a landing pad.”
It was the logical comeback to the issue, one that Tayla and her team of experts had been forced to come back to time and time again. “We thought of the same thing, but the issues outweigh the benefits. When you take into consideration that our refined fuel reserves are dwindling with each year it would only be a matter of time until we are right back where we started; of course with the added issue of having wasted precious fuel.” Tayla could go on and on about the subject, there were dozens of pros and cons, but in the end she and her team always came back to the simplicity of using seafaring vessels.
There was a scraping sound as Graum ran the now mostly cooled shovel head along his chin, the tip visibly dulling from the action. “Valid points, the remoteness of the black coast is no doubt a large factor as well. Very well, I see your logic.” He glanced down at the deformed shovel in his hand. “Oh my, I got carried away. I will reforge this myself to make amends.”
Tayla stared in disbelief, for a moment, just a moment, she had the gut feeling that perhaps the destruction of the shovel had been no mistake. Perhaps the forgefather simply wanted a chance to show off his craft.
The female blacksmith laughed at the absurdity, “To see a Trest forgefather in action would be a dream of ours, if anything I would love to call some of the other smiths in the city to watch. I am sure there is much we could learn.”
While Graum’s cheeks were made of literal stone, there was just a hint of redness in the cracks between. “Well, if you insist. Who am I to argue?” He turned to Tayla. “I would love to continue this conversation another time my lady. The forge calls!”
Tayla wanted to leave but she paused. “About last nigh-”
Graum raised his hand. “Tempers flared, words were said, steel was drawn. But in the end there was no bloodshed, as far as I’m concerned that was a pretty standard negotiation.”
Bowing slightly, Tayla responded kindly. “Thank you, sir Graum. Please let us know if you need anything else. We will most likely be meeting for breakfast in a few hours to discuss the day. Until then, good bye.” Tayla left the smithy, the cool air outside a much needed refreshment after the stuffy forge.
Some time later Tayla made it to the waterfront. Along her walk she had heard some of the townsfolk talking about a specter some had seen the night before, an agent of the Nightfather, stalking the streets with the spirits of the ancients in tow. Tayla made a mental note to inform the townsfolk of the Necromaster and her walks. At this rate there would be an urban legend of the walking dead.
The waterfront consisted of a stone path that ran in a semi circle around the shallow sea along the city's edge, along with a stone wall built some fifteen feet above the water below with several staircases leading to the shallow waters below. Benches and trees dotted the edge of the wall. Quite the feat considering the effort it took to import natural trees and maintain them from being poisoned by the coral soil below. The main road opened into a second plaza at the bottom of the hill, its edge overlooking the waterfront some sixty feet above.
Tayla walked the wall's edge; if one didn’t know better they could almost believe that the shallow sea was the ocean itself. That illusion was broken by the sight of someone sitting up to their neck in the water. Tayla felt her heart drop, no Twin would do such an act, it went against the All Mother’s wishes. The shock of blond hair gave away the identity of the fool immediately.
She called out to the storm priest. “Honored cousin, I think you’ll find that the Keel has working bathtubs!” A hint of sarcasm crept into her voice.
Thoren didn’t move.
Well that was troubling, storm priests didn’t take jokes well. Which either means he had not heard the joke, he didn’t understand it, or he had passed out in the water. Tayla glanced around to ensure no one was around before running her hands down her face in an exaggerated fashion. She huffed as she walked towards the nearby staircase, she held her heel in place with her foot and pulled her feet out of her boots one at a time. She wasn’t wearing a long skirt, or a dress, but her coat was on the longer side, so she took it off and tossed it with her boots. She called out one last time in a desperate attempt to avoid going into the water. “Oh honored one! Thoren sir! HEY ZAPPY!”
Great, wet pants it was. With a deep breath she walked into the water as the frigid liquid came up to her thighs. The shock of the cold was just enough to be brisk, but not enough to trigger her skin's safeguard response. “Dear genesmiths, why give us skin that can protect us from the cold, if we can’t choose when to activate it!” She grumbled as she walked to the blond idiot.
The priest was sitting so his head was the only thing not submerged in the water. Thankfully he had the decency to wear his robes at least. His eyes were closed, mouth chanting in the celestial tongue. Tayla was a bit out of practice, but it seemed like he was praying for guidance, that or he was asking how much it was to buy a horse. Probably the first one.
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Tayla was about to leave the man, she had done her part in making sure he wasn’t drowning, that was the extent of her duty at this time. To her disappointment Thoren spoke up, “The water isn’t that cold.”
She froze, that had been the closest to a joke she had ever heard a storm priest make in her entire life. Her slack jawed face caught Thoren’s side glance. Another shock, he laughed.
“So, what did you do to the man who owned that face before you?” Tayla realized she had made a mistake. The saying was common enough, a light jab at the idea that someone was so drastically changed that it was more likely that they had had their face stolen by a Faceless. Tayla just hoped the priest would take it as a joke and not an accusation.
Thankfully, Thoren laughed again.
Okay, the chances of him being an agent of chaos were suddenly not zero.
Thoren stood up, his clothes absolutely drenched, though he didn’t seem to care. “Just because I’m a priest doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a bit of levity from time to time.”
“Is soaking your clothes part of your idea of ‘levity’?”
“No, I couldn’t sleep last night, so I’ve been praying to the All Mother to try and help calm my mind.”
“How long have you been out here?”
Thoren looked at the sun for a moment. “About six hours. Give or take.”
“I take it back, nobody but a Stormpriest would sit in the cold water for six hours. Speaking of cold water, I’ve been in here for all of a few minutes and I have had my fill.” Tayla said as she turned to make her way back to shore. She heard the splashing of Thoren following. Oh great, time for her yearly quota of theology and preaching. To her surprise the priest was silent the whole way back up the stairs, the blissful silence continued even while she tried to wring the worst of the water out of her pants. She sat down on the wall's edge, waiting to put her boots on until she was a bit more dry. Thoren just stood nearby, staring introspectively.
“I know what you saw last night was a shock. I wanted to thank you for being respectful to my grandmother before…” Tayla struggled to say the words. There was no running from the truth, but saying it out loud made it seem more real.
He continued to surprise her as he shifted the subject. “I am one of the youngest of my kind to rise to my rank, I came here ready to be the instrument of the gods and put you heathens in your place.” He glanced at Tayla sheepishly as he cleared his throat. “I came here with a narrative already in my mind of being some avatar of justice. I thought I would come to this land and find people in need of saving.”
“So what happened? Did you have a change of heart about us ‘heathens’? Because I seem to recall your little sermon yesterday, you had quite a lot to get off your chest about our evil and wicked nature.” Tayla said.
Thoren turned to face her, several emotions fighting for control as his features twisted. “I deserve that. Like I said, I have much to prove. There are two ways to raise to my rank amongst my kind. The usual method involves piety and theological study, and several decades of rinsing and repeating those principles.”
Tayla took the bait and asked. “And the other method?”
With a flick of his wrist he summoned a bolt of lightning from the clear skies, a spear of molten gold appearing in his hand as he jabbed it into the stones below. There was a steel to his eyes as he met Tayla’s. “Martial prowess.” He said matter of factly.
“You don’t say.” Tayla looked around at the shocked faces of those who were taken aback by the sudden thunderclap that had burst from thin air without warning. She spotted several shapes moving in the shadows, the House of whispers was hard at work keeping an eye on their guests it would seem. Somewhere amongst those shadows, probably one she couldn’t even see, would be a member of the House of demons. Had Thoren showed any ill intent with that spear he would have found himself trying to scoop up whatever remained of the contents of his skull from the bricks below in quick fashion.
Whispers and demons walk hand in hand. Tayla thought as she recited the old proverb.
Checking to see if her legs were dry yet, Tayla leaned forward. “I’m failing to see the point to this honored cousin. You came to prove yourself and you rose in rank because you can stab better than anyone else; what am I missing here?” She knew she was being curt with the man, but there was something about him that made Tayla feel like she could be blunt with him.
“The point.” Thoren said as he began spinning the spear in place out of what seemed like habit. “Is someone knows I am young, they know that I would be quick to temper, and I’m betting they hoped that I would settle things with the tip of my spear as opposed to trying to talk things over. What they couldn’t have foreseen was your grandmother.” His eyes softened as he continued some practised motions with the spear.
“I didn’t see some vile creature of the void; I saw a sick person, someone in need of help. I can’t imagine the willpower it took to hold on while her body transformed before her very eyes until nothing remained of the person she was before, all the while caring for you and your siblings.” He lowered his spear.
“When the Ono charged I found myself wondering why I hadn’t leapt forward as well? I should have, it was exactly what I was taught to do; show no mercy to the corrupt, bring vengeance to those that turn their back on the gods. Yet I remember looking down at the food your grandmother had made; if she was so evil, why did the food she made taste so warm and comforting.”
Tayla cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t attack my grandmother because she baked her food ‘with love’”?
Thoren’s face grew flush as he looked away. “Something as simple as that should be impossible from what I was taught.” He pointed with his chin at the townsfolk. “I expected to see a den of villainy, yet more and more I just see people.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Depends who you ask.” Thoren said as he continued to stare at the people going about their mornings. It was as though they were a puzzle for him to solve. “The more I consider the facts, the more questions I have. I had hoped to clear my mind, but I don’t think this is something I can reconcile as easily as I had hoped. I think someone is plotting behind the scenes.”
Tayla digested what the man was saying, trying to see reason in the madness. If the priest's hunch was right she was playing her part perfectly. Antagonizing Thoren, driving a wedge between their people because of her prejudice. It was exactly what someone wanted, and the thought that she was being manipulated was infuriating. “It’s almost ingenious, we were raised to hate one another, both of us are young and in positions to want to prove ourselves by not backing down. If that is the case, we can’t let them get away with it.”
A weight seemed to lift as Thoren looked genuinely glad to hear her words. “Hence why I’ve been sitting, freezing my ass off for the night lost in thought. Speaking of which.” He held his fist above his head as he closed his eyes. “‘Blessed lords of starlight, let your brilliance wash over me and warm my spirit.’” His eyes began to glow a brillant kaleidoscope of hues, a myriad of lights appearing around his body from nowhere. Tayla let out a yelp as she tried to back away from the sudden display. She lost her balance, starting to flail as she was about to tumble backwards the dozen or so feet back into the water. Thoren reached out and grabbed her wrist, arresting her fall at the last moment. She pulled herself back in place.
Tayla caught her breath and immediately shouted. “What in the name of the All Mother was that! Was that magic!?” She had only met a few who could use magic, most of them were born with the innate arcane gift. The court Magos, Abigail, could use magical formula, but she was the only one in the Coast with that ability. It was a rarity in the Black Coast.
Thoren stood back, his clothing and body were now bone dry. “Sorry, it’s a common chant, back in the Spires even children can do that much. I didn’t think it would be so shocking.”
“Need I remind you sir, that my people lost our connection to the divine. We can’t just chant our problems away. Now, you have let me sit here with my legs freezing in the cold while you had the power to rectify this?” She gestured at her legs with both hands.
“Okay, okay. Fair point.” Thoren chuckled, for the first time all the stress and determination seemed to wash away from his face, revealing that underneath the scowl was a somewhat charming face. He chanted once more, this time holding out his palm towards Tayla. A moment later a flash of light, gone as quickly as it had appeared. She reached down and found to her immense satisfaction that her legs were dry, the warmth sudden and refreshing.
“Ahh, much better. Looks like you have your uses after all zappy.” Tayla caught herself, she was trying to egg him on out of habit. “Right, that is my fault, giving Stormpriests a hard time just comes naturally to me.”
Placing his fists on his hips, Thoren’s face returned to his usual grimace. “Believe me, I understand the feeling. If we are to foil this mysterious puppet master and their plans I propose a truce for the time being. I for my part will refrain from embarking on any holy crusades during my stay.”
“And I will try not to verbally harass you too much.”
That caused a scowl to appear on the priest's face.
Crossing her arms, Tayla said. “Don’t give me that look. I’m joking. This is me, trying to make peace. I promise I will endeavor to treat you fairly and to not antagonize you.” She was trying to be light hearted, but Thoren’s words bothered her deeply. Who would have something to gain by bringing more strife to the Twins. They were a far removed people, they had little but crops for trade. Perhaps someone felt that the Twins were heretics, but the most likely to feel that way were the Stormpriests themselves. Something felt off about this whole thing.
“Now who’s making sour faces?” Thoren said with a smirk.
Tayla had hoped a walk would calm her mood, instead it had compounded the issues. “Your scowl is infectious. A curse that has been passed to me.”
A bell rang inside Tayla’s mind.
“There’s the morning bell. I should return to the Keel, it's already six o'clock.” Tayla said.
Looking around, Thoren scratched his head. “Morning bell? I didn’t hear anything.” A look of sudden realization crossed the man’s handsome face. “Wait, is that where the saying about asking a Twin for the time comes from? You hear bells?”
She laughed. “I can’t explain the whole thing, but yes. We hear bells. One in the morning, one at noon, and another in the evening.”
“Sounds convenient.”
As she was about to respond, there came another ringing of the bell. A sickening feeling of deja vu washed over Tayla as she waited for another ring of the Herald bell. Thankfully it stopped at two.
There were more visitors.
Tayla raised her voice slightly. “Bynard!”
One of the trees grew blurry around the edges as a cloaked figure peeled away from the bark with a sickening crack. Walking over at a relaxed pace the man approached, giving a lazy bow of the head. Bynard was a disheveled man, everything about him from his looks to his clothing spoke to his lax nature. He was Tayla’s closest friend, as such she knew all too well that his laid back nature was a tool that he used for his own means.
“What can I do ya for Tayla?” Bynard said with his usual mumble.
“Do we have more guests arriving?”
Bynard’s eyes fluttered as he grew quiet. A rare occurrence that spoke to the fact the man was taking things seriously.
Thoren took the chance to lean closer. “I thought you said you didn’t have magic here?”
“Bynard doesn’t count. He’s a runesmith.” She shrugged.
Bynard clicked his tongue. “Well, the good news is that the guards were actually ready this time so we have a chance to prepare. The bad news is that the visitors aren’t from the Court. They’re Cabal diplomats.”
Tayla and Thoren shared a look. There was no doubt now. Someone was working very hard behind the scenes, the question was, what was their end goal?
“Should we tell the king about our theory?” Thoren said.
“No. Not yet.” Tayla said with a shake of her head. “I want to try and do some digging before I bring it to his attention. Besides, I don’t want to distract him on the day of the hunt. For now we need to return to the Keel and prepare for the new visitors.”
Thoren glanced around for a moment. “May I join you for the walk back?”
It took every ounce of Tayla’s willpower not to roll her eyes, or make some scathing remark. “Of course, I would love the company.”
“Wow, I almost believe you. If not for the veins on your forehead looking like they are primed to burst.”
“I’m trying!”
“Do you treat all of your foreign representatives like this?” Thoren said, raising his eyebrows.
Tayla pointed a finger at Thoren. “I’ll have you know I am the pinnacle of politeness and diplomatic relationships. I am the Lady of shadows, the unseen hand, I have been trained since childhood to be a political machine! You’re just insufferable.”
The two paused, staring each other down before bursting into laughter. Without intending it, they seemed to have found some foundation to work from.
Thoren held out his hands at his sides. “I can take a hint, I will return on my own.”
“I will see you at breakfast.” Tayla said as she watched the man’s body disappear in a flash as he transformed into a bolt of lightning that arced to the top of the hill in an instant. “Show off.” She mumbled to herself.
Bynard cleared his throat as he let a devilish grin creep across his face. “You know. I can’t count how many times I tried to set you up with someone. For a while I thought you might play for the other team if you catch my drift, but when that failed I thought you might be one of those folks that prefers to not play at all. But now, now I see the problem, we were trying the wrong sport to begin with.” He said, proud of his convoluted analogy.
Tayla quickened her pace as she responded. Bynard’s soft footfalls right behind her. “You want to try that one more time without the cryptic nonsense?”
“Twin’s aren’t your thing. But a certain dreamy Stormpriest just might be.”
She stopped in her tracks as she turned around. “I do not have a thing for that self righteous dick!”
Bynard raised his hands. “Sorry sorry. I just thought as I was watching you from my hiding spot that you seemed to be getting lost in those big brown eyes.”
“They aren’t brown, they’re blue.”
A shit eating grin formed on Bynard’s face.
“You’re the worst!” Tayla said in a huff as she hurried away, making sure to keep her face hidden from her friend.
As the two caught the next lift up the hill, Tayla opened the link. Alnur’s mind was a flurry of half thoughts and emotions, it felt like a screen that was playing white noise.
The king was sleeping in.
Tayla sent a pulse through her mind, a sudden jolt of focus that cascaded through her brother's subconscious as it bounced around wildly. The static subsided as Alnur groaned in dismay.
What.
I’m afraid we don’t have time for you to sleep in Alnur, we have more guests arriving. Tayla sent.
What now? The Faefolk? The Wyrmkin? No wait, let me guess, the Vex?
Nope. It’s the Cabal.
Alnur grew quiet for a long moment before sending back a single word that conveyed Tayla’s own feelings on the matter.
Fuck.
