Daggers and the Soul Ambry

3. 18th Kingship

The restless crowd at the Thromby Kingship Hall fanned themselves as they sweltered from the heat of the late summer day. The building was deep in Marchenne's government district and was one of the oldest buildings in the city. Marchenne used to be the seat of power for the Sills or silver elves a thousand years ago until King Artimis the Third came obsessed with dark magic and brought a curse down upon the city. Plague and sickness brought down thousands of elves. Their internal organs liquefied and oozed from every orifice in their frail bodies. The plague didn't appear to infect other races, yet most of the population left out of fear. Soon, the capital city fell into ruins for half a century until humans brokered a deal to buy the city for a stunning amount of gold. Many Sills became extremely wealthy because of that arrangement, but even to this day, remained hesitant to stay in the metropolis for long, scared that the scourge would resurface. Humans took this city, like they have been taking land from the elves for centuries.

Governor Belarian Cross sat patiently with her small group of Sill diplomats, as was common during these assemblies. There was representation from every country, monarchy, and region, although, as most of the meetings went, it was humans discussing human problems. Seldom were the difficulties of dwarves, elves, or orcs ever mentioned and if they were, Chief Speaker Jacob Gantry would shut it down as quickly as possible. The Kingship sessions began after the Tinkers Uprising to bring to light any issues that communication, problem-solving, and co-operation would resolve. They used to work. In the previous ten years since the insurrection ended, she noticed that the humans attendance had grown where the other races had shrunk.

Unacceptable. Belarian kept attending these meetings, but only because it was required for her to keep her appointment as Governor to the Deepwater Elven Territory. She glanced around the spacious, smoky hall at the bloated, self-absorbed faces of oligarchs who have built their power and wealth on the backs of those they considered less-than. Her head raised towards the lofty domed ceiling and through the hazy, acrid smoke from cigars and pipes, she smiled as she found what she looked for. High up, hidden in a dusty shadow, she could make out the faded and peeling frescoes her people painted long ago.

The Sills built this hall, back when this was the center of the elven realm. Her eyes traced the illustrated scenes of epic elven battles with villainous sorcerers clad in ebon robes slinging thick ropes of flaming magic. Another was Shaysha Ti'nor, the elven goddess of All standing tall on a gray stone speaking of greatness to her silver elven people. Promising that their command over the world of Sialdrad would be theirs for a million years. The glory of the elven nation would be theirs by birthright and none could take it away. She obviously didn't know the negative and self destructive evil potential of human beings. Cross scoffed at the naivety of the All Mother's hubris which brought her personal guard, Myrick's attention.

"Everything alright, ma'am?" He leaned in close to her, his shoulder touching hers. He had been with her for years, and sometimes his responsibilities were more delicate than simply protecting her. She trusted him and had become so fond of him that his touch didn't offend her.

Belarian nodded, looking at his strong features and pale blue stare. "Yeah, swell." Her attention moved back to a fresh, stinking cloud of pollution obscured again by the paintings in the shadows. Disappeared. Just like our heritage. "I want to get this over with and leave this awful place."

After an hour of droning on and on about industrial taxes, medical needs of outlying towns deep in the frontier, and problems with local politics, Speaker Gantry banged his gavel on the cherry wood desk. "If there is nothing else to discuss, I call for this 18th session of Kingship Meetings to come to a close."

Belarian took a deep breath and looked at Myrick. His jaw clenched and with a smile, he nodded. Standing, she brushed her hands over the powdered blue elfweave suit she wore to every one of these assemblies. "Speaker Gantry? May I address the panel?" It made her cringe to show even this low example of subservience to the man.