The Elysian Prince

Chapter III: The Queen Arrives

The Queen arrived in a tempest of wind and thunder.

She was flanked by a small team of elite mages known as the hirundo, the Elysian Royal Guard, instantly recognisable by their swallow-shaped helmets and flowing saya robes of white and blue. Their ethereal-looking steeds were equally famous, and famously snobbish – they were extremely fussy about who exactly they allowed on their backs. They were, after all, no ordinary quadrupeds, but Elysian Stags, aetherion de'la bestias, with the ability to conduct and channel aether through their bodies. Their appearance was perfectly refined, in line with their temperament; their limbs long and slender, necks lightly elongated; they had small, angular faces and silver-white hair flowing from their ankles and the backs of their necks; their steel-blue coats rippled with the light; and from the tops of their heads sprouted great antlers of ivory and silver. The Stags thundered down the leafy tree-lined thoroughfare with a strength and speed that belied their delicate physique, leaving clouds of fine golden dust streaming behind them.

The procession pulled up at the palace gates. The Queen leapt from her mount with a lightness and grace that seemed in defiance of gravity; it was as though she floated to the ground. The hirundo dismounted one after another behind her. Their magnificent steeds were attended to by a team of silver-robed aeras mages, who bowed low to each of the Stags in formal greeting before escorting them away to the surrounding forests.

At the Queen's side was a young woman who was almost as conspicuous as the Queen herself. Her skin was dark, her jet-black hair cropped short; she was dressed in a sleeveless black top, exposing arms that were covered from wrist to shoulder with a pattern of complex black tattoos. She had a bandage wrapped around her left eye to cover up the empty socket underneath; to her back was strapped an enormous broadsword, with a blade made from a dark, glass-like metal that had gently glowing Excandic rune marks engraved into the surface. The tattoos and extravagant weaponry marked her as a denizen of the Southern Isles, the vast archipelago that lay in the ocean to the south of the Peninsula. Her name was Eva-Marie Asardia, and six months prior she had been bestowed with the illustrious honour of becoming not only the youngest, but also the first ever Islander to be promoted to the position of Captain of the hirundo. In part this was because of Eva-Marie's exceptional magical, tactical, and weapons-combat proficiency, but mostly— or so claimed the Palace gossip-mill— it was because of the Queen's personal favour.

The promotion had not been an easy one.

As the Queen approached, it seemed the very particles in the air began to react to her presence, buzzing and crackling with electrical charge. The guards standing on sentry duty nearest to the gates saw their hair stand up on end. A trio of waiting handmaids quickly stepped forward to robe Her Majesty in a heavy-looking grey cloak made from nullius toji, a rare material that worked to nullify the effects of excess magical energy.

"All heed the presence of Her Majesty Queen Mira Lazuli, regalis femina principateof the Greater United Republic of Elysia, Chief Administrator of the 12 Districts of the Consolidated Inner Territories, Commander-in-chief of the Administration of the Associated Outer Territories, and Storm Maiden of the astrapius Order."

The Queen glided forth into the Great Hall, Captain Asardia at her side, the rest of the hirundo in tow. Her black leather riding boots clacked purposefully across the marble floor; the air crackled with the slight buzz of electricity that followed in her wake. The hundreds of palace servants assembled bowed low to the ground. Everyone had gathered for the ilae-remigra, the Palace's customary welcoming party to celebrate the return of a member of the Elysian royal family from their travels.

The Queen ascended the wide marble stairs leading to the upper levels of the Hall. Captain Asardia and the other hirundo took their places at her side; kneeling on one knee, helmets tucked under their arms, heads bowed.

The Queen looked down upon the assembly with the gaze of a benevolent god. The Hall buzzed with excitement as everyone waited for her to speak. Her eyes did one last sweep across the room. And the barest flicker of irritation passed across her face.

"Where is my son?"

The place was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Not a soul stirred; all held their breaths, perhaps hoping that if they kept still as possible, they might somehow turn invisible.

At this point the Speaker suddenly burst forth from the wings, like some kind of magnificent butterfly come to the rescue, swathed in robes of deep red and ochre velvet patterned with elaborate gold embroidery. Impressive neck frills sprouted forth from his collar; his long ears poking out from beneath a velvet skull cap covering his head.

"Matron!" the Speaker barked, his frills fluttering with indignation. "You were given explicit orders to ensure His Highness' participation in today's proceedings. Explain yourself!"

The servants gathered around stole pitying glances at Martha as she very reluctantly climbed to her feet, careful to keep her head lowered so as not to raise her eyes in the presence of the Queen, wobbling slightly from nerves.

Martha stood trembling in the crowd, still with her head down, muttering a series of rapid prayers under her breath which did not provide nearly as much solace or comfort as she would have liked. She could sense the Queen's gaze upon the back of her neck like blazing fire and felt suddenly terribly exposed. Her mind began to drift to children's stories of the Age of the First King, where it was commonplace for Kings and Queens to obliterate unworthy subjects with a single word of Discourse.

"Well?" the Speaker snapped.

"Er—" The Matron cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, you see, Distinguished Speaker— what happened is— that is to say, His Highness—"

"For goodness' sake, Matron, out with it!" the Speaker screeched.

Martha gulped; dabbed furiously at her forehead with her silk pocket handkerchief. "He— er— he didn't want to come."