"They've been enemies for years. Even they, very likely, do not know what they are fighting for."
"I've heard it's for the wealth of the middle kingdom. Whomever wins the kingdom will eventually be able to conquer the enemy."
"What do you mean by middle kingdom?"
The other man stretched back into his seat, he knew he had grabbed the tall man's attention.
"You don't know? The kingdom of Thylendri lies in the south of the Continent, Mouir in the north, and Diertéri in the middle, completely neutral. So they say. Diertéri has been the center of war for many years." He drank from his glass before continuing. "An underground kingdom," he spat, "and people say there is no such thing as hell."
"I suppose you've been there," the bartender asked, "to hell and back?"
"Oh, no, I never left," a sly grin split his face.
"Why underground? Seems a pity to never be able to see the light of day again," the tall man asked.
The other man leaned forward, his glass forgotten, "Why live in the sun, when you can see nothing?"
The pub had grown silent listening to the tale and no one moved.
From the corner of the room a hunched old man spoke, his words like the rumble of an earth quake. "The queen of Diertéri may be blind, but the queen can see more than you think. She can see more than any man or creature." He paused, "so I've heard."
A low chuckle laced with fear reverberated through the room.
"Enough alcohol for you, old man. You speak of legends, nothing more." The bartender gave a wheezing laugh as he dried a glass.
"How does the queen rule while blind?" The tall man turned to the old.
"The queen is said to be powerful beyond belief. She is surrounded by guards, not only for protection, they allow her to see. She can see the world through their eyes. They are called the 'rirli', it means seekers."
***
A thin mist lay over the field, cool when in it, but as the old man from the pub stepped across the border from Génna to Srisci woods, a warmth caused him to shed his tattered cloak as he followed a path that only Dietérians could see.
Bundles of brown and black birds whistled above, not even their eyes were visible in the tangible darkness. Their song carried through the trees, warning guards of the soul that dared to enter Srisci.
The unmistakable creak of a bow being nocked stilled the old man's movements.
"Tigri, nice to see you again." The old man's heart slowed, the shock wearing off.
"You will find that Your Highness is in the sala." Pleasantries aside, the guard bled back into the scenery, his bow still ready for the hint of a threat.
Guards were peppered throughout the tree tops and among the bushes, their eyes watching his every step. Heavily equipped with weapons and trained from childhood to adulthood, they made fierce opponents and were rarely tested.
The old man arrived at a large oak, marked by the singing of birds. The closer you were to it the quieter their singing became. A hidden door, no more than six feet tall, was thrown open, he stepped inside, only to fall down a dark hole in the tree's base.
The air became comfortably cool the further he fell. Its heavy wood scent welcoming home the Dietéri soldier. An orange light sparkled beneath his feet and grew the further he fell; his dew soaked, ankle-length tunic became unbearably uncomfortable as it clung to his ankles and scratched at his legs.
His stomach churned and heart accelerated as, by an unknown source, his descent began to slow and his eyes burn as light blinded him and his leather clad feet touched ground.
"Hilé."
His hunched, brittle form straightened. Spotted, paper-thin skin became flawless and silver-white hair bled to its natural oak brown. He shifted slightly, finally comfortable in his own skin, his disguise finally shed.
"Srina Fidé, the pleasure." He gave a slight bow to the queen's niece.
"Stingy by bows. As Srina of Diertéri, almost a princess, do I not deserve a better bow, something a little more extravagant?" She crossed her legs and settled a smirk on the soldier.
"I give only what is deserved, My Queen deserves the most gentlemanly of bows only," his eyes met hers for a brief moment, "Just as the queen deserves to not have her thrown soiled by the lower ranking."
Her dark face twisted into a sneer before she rose from the seat quickly, as if burned. The Srina's hand twitched nervously, making her fan flap against her skirts. Hilé continued to ignore her stare, instead looking at the glass murals of wars and past monarchs that stretched behind the throne.
"Frankly, I do not know how my aunt makes that hole open, then disappear when someone enters the kingdom. Night or day, present or absent from the kingdom, she knows who enters and when," she paused, staring at the area in the ceiling where Hilé had entered, then rolled her eyes down to him. "She is not here, you know, my aunt, she is gone."
Hilé's body immediately tensed, "Tigri said that she is in the Sala."
"That is what all of the guards were told. There would be complete chaos if everyone knew she was gone. Daddy is enjoying it though, he gets to play king when she is gone," a slight smile pulled at her mouth. Her dark brown skin contrasted sharply with the white of her eyes and teeth, drawing attention to both areas. She could easily be mistaken for a Thylendrian if not for her short stature and the long, braided hair than ran down her back.
He father, Srin Estabon, was second in command to the queen. When she was absent, which rarely happened, Estabon kept the kingdom in order, but could not pass laws or change anything set by the ruling monarch. It did not stop him from displaying his dominance over the guard, soldiers, and maids.
"Has anyone thought to look for her?"
"Hilé, she is queen. Her Highness will do as she pleases," she smiled at him and turned to leave the room.
