An announcement on the overhead speakers roused Ambassador Javis Zevos from his nap. He sat up in his plush seat and stretched, and rubbed his eyes beneath his small, rounded glasses. He peered out the window to his right at the forested city far below. The massive trees made the city appear deceivingly close as the airship prepared to land. Javis sat back, pulled his bag onto the little table in front of him, and checked over the paperwork he needed to give to the Board one more time.
He had just flown out of the mountains outside of Erothel's southern border a couple of hours before, where he had spent the last several months negotiating with the neighboring drād clans. Life was usually peaceful there, despite the dragons' reputation as a tricky and often reclusive people. There were rarely any problems with the drād, so Javis' job mainly consisted of learning their various cultures and the seven local dialects of the drenen language. And of course, keeping the clans satisfied.
The latter task was easier said than done as of late. For the last eight hundred or so years—which for a drād was just over one lifetime—the clans had been relegated to two locations: a mountain range to the South, and a range across the sea to the West. They had lost their lands during the wars against the humans of Taevalear when many countries throughout Arai sought to take advantage of the genocide the humans had committed against the drād. The drād wanted their lands back.
But Javis was only one man, and the Board was difficult to convince on even minor issues. Today, Javis had to report a less-than-minor and rather worrying issue. In the last two months, someone had noticed the discontent simmering within the clans and was trying to use that to turn them against Erothel. There was always a different person sent to stir up trouble, always appearing in a clan where Javis wasn't, leaving him to sniff around at nothing but rumors. But rumors were enough for concern.
Javis had hired a man to look into the matter, and what he found was alarming. Someone in Erothel's government appeared to be the suspect. Javis checked his aspectacaster. He was waiting now for word from his contractor, hopefully with evidence from a meeting that would give the Board a reason to act on his findings. As the airship came to a stop, however, it seemed Javis would have to attempt to convince the Board without it.
He was escorted off the airship into a carriage that drove him from the outskirts into the heart of Arkaven. From ground level, the city was a forest. Most of the buildings were built into or built to blend in with the surrounding trees all nestled close together. The forest proved too dense around the buildings in most areas for any sonnes to get proper light, so the roads and pathways glittered with them instead, curving and twisting wherever the sunlight and space dictated.
The only exception to either was the capitol building in Arkaven's center. A lone, round structure built atop pillars that stretched for the sun with its conical roof stood above the woodland.
A guard escorted Javis inside. He looked up with a sigh at the rows and rows of balconies that circled the inner circumference of the capitol building. The only way to reach them and the rooms on each level was the large spiral staircase in the center of the building that stood from ceiling to floor and the hanging bridges connecting to the stairs like the branches of a tree. With another sigh, Javis began his trek up the winding stairs. A sylfan fluttered past him, knocking one of the many floating bulbs of light into his path. He groaned in envy. He reached the top level, then gave himself a minute to catch his breath before he pulled himself together and entered the Board's meeting room.
He turned his head to look around. He was the only one who had yet arrived, so he sat to wait on the side of the ovular table where no one would be able to come in and sneak up on his right.
Bright and warm sunlight filtered into the room through the South-facing windows despite the late-autumn chill that hung in the air. Javis yawned. He bounced his knee and rested his chin in his palm. He scratched at a knot in the table with his thumb. He yawned again. Finally, the door opened, and the others began to arrive. Any longer and Javis might have fallen asleep. He stood.
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The Dreamer and the Marked
FantasyIn the wake of her Mam's death, Krystal Monarain has turned to escapism, throwing herself into the fantastic stories she was told as a child and the strange, recurring dreams she has at night. But she never quite believed her Mam's tales that her bi...