Disclaimer: This series is an LGBT slow-burn fiction that contains heavy politics and sensitive themes like profane language, murder, war, cultism, fictional religions, non-consensual events, PTSD, racism, substance abuse, misogynistic undertones, a...
Silence reigned as white ravens circled the Dirgean Docks. Each boat-landings deemed desolate to welcome the Diplomat from the far south of the Gwandoyan continent, travelling for the whole autumn in voyage to talk politics with the northern country- for whatever its worth.
The Silver Lady raised a hand and the Frostguards formed a line. She has a dragging feeling about the whole ordeal, or maybe she's just hungover from last night's festivities. From her studies, history proved that the pale citizens of the snowy mountains had never come in common terms with the dark people of the volcanic deserts. They may share the same ideologies but somehow, there's an unwritten rule that no matter how wide the world of Viridia is- her land is not big enough to fit in two war countries. And there used to be four great war countries from the Old World, but only the strongest thrive.
From the distance where the sun meets the sea came the blinding shimmer of a Steel Colossus, cutting through the rough waters like a warm knife on butter. Its glinting made the Silver Lady grip her black gown, she missed the touch of steel down her palms. The satisfaction of riding men on warm nights could never replace her lust for riding to battle, clashing steel with death on cold mornings is something to truly live for as a Silver Knight.
And the Sailor satisfied both of those needs for her.
But she is a sensible woman- just with more duties than time. Her Father is hardly an astute and competent Kazer of Dirge, she envies Fer'hjaal Bluebeards' province to the stars for having a responsible Kazer, even the toe of Amanita's father contains more honour than the Kazer of Dirge.
Drina's brows knitted as the colossus came into close proximity, boasting a structure of pure weaponry with blood evident by the blades situated across its keel and haul, unwashed by the voyage. Is it crimson from fishes? Or from people? She doesn't care. Sovenian ships are far more impressive anyways. Made of Perfect Ice, unmelting as they cruise through the clouds and close to the sun, docked on mountaintop harbors and guided by mountain range lighthouses where the Cloud-weavers reside.
Ocemnian drums and chants echoed across their cold empty sea, Drina could see her soldiers tremble in awe as it moved towards the pier. They were expecting the arrival of a diplomatic ship yet they seem to be receiving a warship instead.
"Roll the carpets down you witless milk drinkers! Do I have to do it myself!?" The Silver Lady roared and the Frostguards remembered to whom their 'tremble of awe' solely belongs to.
Torches were lit on the entire length of the receiving pier as they roll a warm carpet of blizzard moss.
The Steel Ship finally reached the Pier. The red Ocmenian Flag flying proudly at the sail's very top; a Golden Sun with swords as sunrays rising with the bleeding aurora and setting with the sea of blood and lava below. Drina snickered, it was precisely written in the epitaphs of fate that the two nations should contrast each other. The Frostguards raised the blue Sovenian flag to engage with the visitors. Sovenia's design shows a snowflake embraced by the silver crescent of the 13th moon, nestling on top of white mountain patterns.
