Echoes of the Reach

[6.1] | Rude Awakenings

    From the day of its first formation, the Argent Pact has served to unlock the vast wealth of its lands while reaffirming the indisputable sovereignty of its individual members. Through our unshakeable collective strength and resilience, our alliance has defied thieves and tyrants from all corners of the known world to devastating effect. We may be but humble stewards of a young city, but we, the Oathbound Syndicate of Trocari, will work tirelessly to ensure the survival and success of our collective independence now and into the future.

    - Pesca, Caspiana, 'Address of the Speaker of the Oathbound Syndicate to the Members of the Sterling Assembly', from Anselmo de L'Oro, Commemorations upon the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Formation of the Argent Pact of Eastern Zeydal, pp. 90-97 (p. 91)

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    She did not need to open her eyes to know where she was. The mild breeze and the splash of the sun-kissed waters around her ankles told her all she needed to know.

    It was the same lake, outside the same leafy shack, in the same tree-encompassed, flower-speckled glade. Dizzying, dazzling flames still swept across the sky as the sun slinked to its horizon-bound bed, and crunching wild grasses and chirruping birdsong still filled the air with infectious energy. Through sunset's blazing coat, the moon Morya's silver-tinted smile still shone down on the world to announce the night's silent, yet expected approach. It was just as Talwyn remembered, just as the dream had woven for her countless times before.

    Except it was different. It was all different. In past dreams, the landscape had blended into blurred watercolour shapes that, though vivid, lacked any details to explore or cling to. Now, as Talwyn stirred her feet through the water, the forms of the rocks and weeds that covered the lakebed pierced the rippling surface to meet her eye. Pristine white-petalled flowers lined the hem of a faintly pink smock dress that she had not worn before, their bladed leaves glancing against the dark earthen specks along her knees. No longer a lone jewel in the fiery sky, Morya smiled alongside thousands upon thousands of shimmering stars, their lights slowly emerging into the young dusk. Everything was more, and everything was alive.

    And it was home. The glint of the waning sunlight off the dancing trees, the way the earth crumbled beneath her feet, the taste of the fruity, nectar-rich air on her tongue – it was the kind of safe haven Talwyn had craved for so long. Her breathing relaxed, her scars lay bare, and her mind wandered free from its perpetual walls, unoppressed by the clamour of others' thoughts.

    Until her mind hit something. It was brief, too brief to determine its nature, but it was there. Throwing up her mental defences, Talwyn rose from the lakeside and scoured the overgrowth around the clearing. Her gaze pushed through the dense forests, weaved between the fluttering birds, and stepped carefully around the trotting horses, yet the source of the disturbance eluded her.

    The sun soon retreated below the mountain-cut horizon line, robbing all but the sparest shreds of its light. Stillness overtook the glade, and, freed from the sun's glare, the moon cast down its gentle glow to sketch the lines of the rolling hills and dense forests that surrounded the space. It also traced a dark sliver against the distant peaks, a minor flaw in the land's composition that shifted with the breeze. As the chilling wind strengthened, the moon draped a shining, flawless beam over the shape to reveal that it was no cave or ditch, but a person – a human.

    Tall, slender, and clad in a long cloak that broadened with every gust of wind, the figure did not resemble Talwyn's last memories of her father. It had been over two years since she had seen him, however, and if the dream had carried her to this unknown glade, perhaps it also offered a glimpse of Breock as he was now. Perhaps she simply had to trust and look.