Summer Garden

Vastras

The politician paused uncertainly as he saw her glaring down at him. "I'm sorry, Queen Vastras. You appear to be injured. Perhaps another time would be better."

She shrugged, touching her eye patch gently, and feeling the reddened skin around her empty socket, "A brush with the Fae. Little to be concerned with Lord Azrael. Please, continue. You were about to tell me why Ozandius was positioning ten thousand troops just beyond our barrier. And why that is not a breach of the peace treaty between our peoples."

The man sighed heavily, clearly torn. Understandable in a way. When she was younger she had been a friend and mentor to the young man, when he still dreamed of being a paladin, a future that had been denied him when all six of his older brothers had been assassinated by a rival nation. He alone had survived, and not of his own doing. It had been her hand that protected him.

And now the crown prince was here to offer a deceleration of war and demand surrender.

Vastras smiled, and waved a hand, "Come, Lord Azrael. Your father has decided to remove a thorn in his side. This need not be a question of personal loyalties. Deliver the terms. You are, and ever shall be, my friend. Whatever comes."

The man nodded grimly, "I'm afraid, oh generous Queen, that King Iza offers no terms. No negotiations. Unconditional surrender, or utter decimation."

A flicker of anger passed over the queen seated on her silver throne, and her eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, her hair spilling over her shoulders, "Pay careful attention, Lord Azrael. Deliver my words exactly as I speak them. Calis is a free city. Her peoples are free, and serve no one, not even myself. By this spirit of freedom, she is protected. No man may demand that which this city can offer, and none deserve it. No king shall set foot in these lands with violence is heart without having his dreams torn asunder. If violence is brought against Calis by incredible force, then a cataclysm of apocalyptic proportions shall be visited upon those who have caused it."

Azrael sighed heavily bowing, "I shall deliver your words."

Vastras stood quickly, "Hold a moment."

He frowned as she stepped down from her throne, and plucked a white rose from the air. She walked over quietly and tucked it into his breast pocket, "I have not forgotten the kindness, nor impudence, of my student. How have you survived?"

Azrael shook his head, "This would not be appropriate, your Highness."

Vastras rolled her eye, "I just battled a Fate for the soul of a dead man. Nearly lost, in fact. The petty concerns over land borders and the constant desire to weaponize magic isn't exactly my highest priority, Lord Azrael. There are much worse things in our worlds than mere kings."

He smiled grimly, "You lost your eye to a Fae. I thought they avoided interfering in our worlds. The Paladins have certainly not clashed with them in a hundred years or so."

"That may change. There is a certain Fae attempted to usurp the throne of the Evening Realms. One of his tools attempted to drive me insane. I lost an eye, but gained a new magic." She shrugged, smiling at her pupil, "Not a terrible outcome, all things considered."

Azrael nodded grimly, "Things have been... Unsettled, lately."

His words were cautious, he'd obviously been instructed to tell her nothing. Yet, in his own way, he was letting her know. The Borderlands, on the edge of Ozandius were tainted. Too many battles had been fought there, too much magic had been cast and torn apart. It had corrupted reality, leaving it a mess of anomalies and strange unstable dimensional rifts. Azrael was letting her know the problem was getting worse.

"The Fates have broken a celestial treaty, of sorts." Vastras replied tiredly, "All the worlds are... Unsettled."

The ex-paladin flinched, turning to her, "You are certain of this?"

"Sumner has been attacked." Vastras replied, "The usurper is backed by Yio, and perhaps the other sisters."

Azrael ground his teeth, one of his hands instinctively reaching for the hilt of a sword that wasn't there, "This is not well, your Highness."

"This petty war your father would have..." She shook her head, "It could not come at a worse time. Perhaps you might, in some small way, get him to re-examine his connection to Janus."

Azrael looked at her sideways, "Is that a general you believe he trusts?"

"Of sorts." Vastras smiled, "He'll know the name. He won't be happy I know it too."

The prince shook his head, "You always did pull me in to the worst of things, didn't you?"

She grinned, elbowing him, "Come now. Are you saying you regret when we closed the Eye? Or burned the Entrens?"

He went silent, looking down. The prince was silent for a time, and he didn't look back at her when he spoke. "I do. I regret much, your Highness."

That stung. So Azrael really had changed. Had come to hate her for what they had done... It hadn't all been glamorous, and most of it had been world-threateningly dangerous. She had taught him more forbidden magic than most people would ever encounter. Not the best start for a holy knight. Yet, she had done it to keep him alive. Maybe now he wished instead that he had died. That he had never met her.

That the quiet mage had never stumbled across a knight bleeding out on a valley floor whilst an elf had stood over them, ready to deliver the final blow.

That he had never heard her speak a forbidden word.

That she had never turned the elf to ash.

Vastras nodded silently, "Return to your king, m'lord. He will be awaiting you anxiously."