*Weekly updates* "There are no leashes now, no bindings," she says, her voice a dark lullaby in the flickering candlelight, "and it is their sacrifice that gave us this. Nothing can ever repay it. No one can ever take it from us. So now, in this hal...
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Tazdahur is a thing of many colors—a paper crane, flashy and bright, but feeble against a strong wind. Her retinue stares behind her as they breeze through the city, but Allayria pays the banners and flowers no mind. Her concentration is elsewhere, as it has been the entire time she has travelled in Solveig, but even so, this place, and the promise of it, has long lost its luster for her.
She leads them on horse to the palace, sweeping down off her mount at the front steps and then pushing past the Solveigan guards and the trembling, simpering nobleman Feuilles must have sent down to treat with her.
"Your Excellence!" the man shrieks as she and the others walk past, but this too she pays no mind.
The doors of the Ithil Inshur are heavy and Allayria receives a surprise as her fingers touch their surface, for she feels below their cold exterior a familiar hum of Skill, of life, of vitality.
These are no wooden doors, she muses in mild curiosity. They are living tree limbs.
They part slowly, mulishly at first, but then quicker soon enough. Perhaps they recognize her power—or someone from the other side gives them permission to part. Either way, foliage brushes past her as they do, and she and the others quickly move into the atrium.
"Paragon, please!" the man behind her tries again, but someone else—a tall, dark-haired man in armor with a stone sword at his side—marches forward.
"I am here to see your king," she tells him, making no move to her own weapons but catching how he glances at them all the same.
"Aye," the man says, and his lack of surprise tells her this visit has been anticipated. "The High King of Solveig will welcome you, Your Excellence. But as the captain of the guard, I must ask that we resolve some matters first."
Allayria raises an eyebrow.
"Those," the man says and he points to the swords at her side and then the people behind him.
Allayria removes her swords and hands them to one of the Solveig guards.
"Are my friends not allowed here?" she asks.
"You'll find all your friends who have come here before have been welcomed, these will be too," he answers. "But His Majesty has stipulated a more private audience with Your Excellence, away from prying eyes and listening ears."
Allayria snorts.
"Indeed," she answers. "Well, may they stay here until I return?"
She gestures to the benches surrounding the hall.
"As Your Excellence wishes," the captain says, bowing again. "They will be served food and wine while they wait."
"How kind," Allayria answers. "What of my other friends? Where is Lord Baulieu?"
