Cerulean: A Deuce Through Enmity

Chapter Two - Ceruleah

Farryn squinted at the mirror before her, the gilded frame wrapping like vines around the reflective surface. She straightened her plain cotton shirt, then adjusting the tight waistband of her long black breeches. Glancing down, she eyed her black boots, before slipping them over her pale ankles and up to the tops of her calves. She buckled the leather buckles and tightened them so they hugged her legs. She straightened, brushing her trail of braided hair over her shoulder. It started a darker aqua blue, and ended in a striking silver. Braided, it reached around the center of her back.

"FARRYN!" The screeching, nasally voice made her cringe. She blew a breath out slowly, before turning to the heavy oak door that was the entrance to her bed chambers. Her face twisted in slight disgust and disdain, tugging at her elongated pale right ear. She let out another breath, putting a pleasant smile on her face as she glided to the heavy door, tugging it open and stepping out into the stone hall.

Ever since the worlds had collided, her father had become increasingly irritating. Before, he had been... less of a tyrant. Now, hardly anyone could stand him. Not even his own daughter. Only the people he gazed highly upon were important to him, and most of them were personal adversaries. They were all old, nasally, irritating old men. The thought of them made her scowl. When their world had collided with this newer, more advanced in technologies, world, the funding required for this war crippled the economy that had thrived long before she had been born in this area. Now, more people were poor, even beggars. It made her nose shrivel. This newer world, who had entered through the portal that had connected their worlds somehow, had tall and destructive suits of armor that were wreaking havoc through their world. Their tools and weapons were hardly enough to hold them back, but luckily many of the species in this world had their own types of magic that could combat the giant metal creations of their enemies from beyond the portal.

Snapping out of her reverie, she pushed open the larger, heavy oak doors that would lead to what was the throne room of the fortress that she and her father lived in, along with the adversaries. Pieces of gold littered the floor on the sides of the grand red carpet that led up to her father's throne that sat upon a dais. The golden throne, coiled like tree roots and covered in silver vines, was extravagant beneath her father's royal ass. She stalked across the carpet, the glittering piles of gold catching in the firelight from the fire's inside of braziers that lit the room. The orange glow set off the silvery tips of her hair. She stopped before the dais, glacier-like eyes piercing down at her as she dropped to a single knee, bowing her head. "You called?" She asked, raising her eyes to look up at her father. His chin was resting on a scarred fist, his elbow resting on the arm of the throne.

"I need you to go to reinforce the defenses by the portal. Not too close, but not too far. By the rear of the battle. You won't be seeing much of battle, but I would like you to use that strategist mind of yours and put it to good use," He explained to her, waving his free hand. She slowly rose from her kneel, brushing off her knees and brushing the sword hilt that was at her waist.

"Mm," She hummed thoughtfully, her gaze flicking over to a pillar that was to her right. "I'll gather them from the camp and we will be moving as soon as possible," She finally answered, her gaze flicking back over to the man in the chair. He merely nodded at her, and she took that as her cue to leave. She turned on the black heel of her polished boots and stalked back to the door which she had come in. This time, she took a turn to the right, and exited through a large door into the courtyard of the fortress. It was small, but lively, with a gurgling stream that wound around the fortress and flowers littering the ground. All bright colors, all being tended by small creatures that served the elves. Her father had always been a larger player in wars that had waged. The scars on his fist he had received were from a war he had actually fought in previously. Now, though, he sat from the sidelines and let lives go as if they were golden coins being tossed into a wishing well.

Farryn's lip curled as she passed over a bridge to the gate that barred the entrance to the fortress, connected to a large stone wall. She supposed the courtyard gave a bit of color to all the grey that surrounded them now. She sighed through her nose as she stopped at the closed gate. The armored guard that controlled it quickly hastened turning the crank and lifting it for her. She slipped under the spiked iron bars, touching an iron cuff that encircled her wrist. That was what she controlled. Metals were bent to her whim. Most of the members in her battalion had differentiating magics, but none of them had the same extent of a power, if they shared it with another elf.

She meandered down the path that led to the camp where her antsy fighters were stationed at the moment. Unlit braziers led the way, although she knew the path like the back of her hand- she didn't need them. In a small clearing surrounded by brown oaks with spindling branches and bushy leaves, tents were set up in neat rows. They numbered about twenty-five, with a larger tent set up in the back for Farryn. The tents were all a deep green in color, stiff, wooden rods holding them up, takes holding them down. The movements in the camp seemed to pause, and even the twenty-five horses seemed to stop knickering when she stepped in through the entrance- a small opening in the spiked wooden wall.

"We leave in fifteen minutes. Use this time wisely. Pack the tents and supplies. If we need to prepare wagons, prepare them. I will explain on the way," Farryn ordered quickly, loud enough for all the camp to hear. At the end of her orders, she clapped her hands once and loudly. Everyone surged back into action, shouts echoing off the wood of the trees as they worked together to pack up the tents and supplies they had with them. They were organized into small groups, some working on preparing the horses, some working on gathering all the stakes and poles they used to keep the tents in place and rolling them into the green cloth that made up the tents. A small smile of satisfaction curled on Farryn's mouth as she watched for a moment. Then, she strode to the back of the camp, yanking the sharp wooden stakes out of her tent. Most of the time, elves were responsible for their own tents. However, time was of the essence. She rolled the stakes and pole into the green cloth, turning it into a compact and easy-to-carry bundle. She rolled up her bedroll next, placing it next to the green bundle. She snagged the lantern that she had left on the ground, the charred wick that was inside of it nearly finished off. She hooked it onto her arm, picking up her bedroll and tent bundle. Turning, her eyes landed on her grey mare, saddled and ready for her, pawing at the ground and snorting. A gentle, cautious beast, but very obedient. An ink-black mane, dappled spots of black along her entire coat, legs that were lean and powerful and slowly faded to black. Her face was completely white, with a grey nose. The top of her tail started as black, and slowly faded into silver.

Farryn clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Ifrit obediently trotted over to the elf. She cooed softly to the beast, who nudged her nose into her shoulder. The horse was plated in light, sturdy silver armor that covered the neck, head, nose, and chest. Black leather saddlebags were clipped to the sides of the saddle, along with loops where the commander could strap her bundles to the horse. A loop was also set aside for the lantern. Making quick work, Farryn attached everything to the mare and lifted her booted foot into a glittering silver stirrup, propelling herself onto the back of Ifrit.

The elf pulled a silver encrusted timepiece from the pocket of her black pants. Flicking her wrist to open it, one hand ticked passed an elvish numeral. Another hand shifted, and the fifteen minutes she had given her troops were up. She looked up, and a pleased smile curled on her face. In neat rows, five by five, her troops were holding the reigns of their respective horses. A sea of varying colored fur, pale skin, and sharp ears and eyes stared at her, awaiting orders. Her smile lifted more, her elongated canines glittering in the sunlight like pearls. "We ride," She announced, pausing as her gaze flicked over the soldiers she had trained with for three years, starting when she was barely sixteen, "to reinforce the defenses on the back end of the mass of forces that are at the portal, protecting it. We aren't to see much battle, however, we are going to have to fight. Our main mission is aid, not heroism. Am I understood?" She called out, tilting her head to one side as she watched the reactions of the elves before her. Stony faces, reflecting the stone of the fortress she had left behind not too long ago.

An answering cheer slowly erupted from the troops, and her grin widened.

"Then let's ride," She announced, digging her heels into Ifrit's sides. The horse nickered, then shot off passed the troops and through the opening in the wall. Tugging the reins with a flick of her wrist, kicking up dust behind her as the sound of hooves followed her along the dirt path that would take them to the back lines of the fight.