Ashes of Destiny

Passion's Folly

On this continent, few cities could rival Vaerrian in sheer size, let alone beauty.  Towers so tall they kissed the sky stood unwavering in over a dozen spots.  A trio of alabaster stone keeps sat in strategic positions, as deterrents and fallback points in the unlikely case an enemy pierced that deeply.  An intimidating wall circled the city, fortified gatehouses topped with ballistas at five separate points, watchtowers breaking up the monotony of the stone bulwark at fifty more.  To further impress, beyond the outer districts of the city lay a second wall, a single gargantuan gatehouse the only way into the inner depths of Vaerrian.  In this segment of the city, in the center of elven power, lay the palace.  The building dwarfed a sizable village, enough space inside to harbor a few thousand if need be, but accommodating upwards of six hundred usually.  Scholars compared the palace to architecture of times before the Shattering, the supposed golden age their ancestors thrived in.  The majority of those who built grand structures in this age stuck to practicality over extravagance.  Old Filvanore wished for the world to believe his empire superior though, and commissioned not only a city, but a palace to reign over the Remnants from.  Above the sweeping arches, over the pillars that supported the palace of Vaerrian, rose the tallest of all the towers in the lands.  He'd seen for himself what lay inside that tower of towers, where Lord Imperial Filvanore sat for hours without rest.  Naught but a single chair, mounted to swing whichever direction he so chose, a glass wall providing an unparalleled view of the world the elf already considered his own.

Personally, Tantorom saw the city as an eyesore.  A defensible eyesore, but with enough walls any idiot might find himself winning against unfavorable odds.  Five thousand odd boots marched behind him down the cobbled road, he'd left his place at the procession's head to gaze out at the city.  In less than an hour the army would be showered with deafening applause from the elven inhabitants, happy to see the victors of OrcCress home.  The third kingdom to fall against Virrian, against the elven war machine. 

"You'll get a better look at the place if you stop stalling y'know."  Stopped next to his steed sat an elf months younger than Tantorom, polished royal armor prepared for their parading in Vaerrian.  He huffed out, watching the breath dissipate out in the air, ruffling a hand through damp, half frozen black hair.

"I spent a decade trapped in there, perhaps you understand my reluctance to return?"

"Come now Tan Tan, a quick few weeks to appease my father, then I'll make up a mission for us to go tour through Renarin.  It'll do all three of you good to see your homes again."  That day couldn't come soon enough.  Over a decade since Tourelt's sack, when the elves came for the Ash King's son, since the boy turned man had glimpsed the home of his birth.

"Weeks sounds like an eternity to me after years of being away.  Decent food and expensive wine are the only reasons I haven't hopped off a cliff on the way here."  The elf's laugh sounded almost musical, Darius tipping his head back as the chuckling subsided.  Rear companies in the march were moving by the two, faces clear in their relief to be done marching and start feasting.  They deserved it, these thousands represented only a fraction of the original force. 

"Save the wine drinking for tonight, the ceremonies and hand shaking will last hours I'm sure, and father wants us both on our best behavior." 

"I'm glad to hear your father will parade me around like a trained dog."  Darius grabbed the reins on Tantorom's horse, leading the both of them alongside the army towards Vaerrian.

"Keep that attitude to yourself, I'd rather not see your head roll because you insult father for being proud of us.  Tolerate a few hours of showboating and then we'll start a drinking competition with Iwa, or hells forbid help Kyuko have some fun."  He laughed lowly for his friend, trying to ease the anxiety away as well.  Thankfully a distraction rode their way in the form of a hulking figure in armor, whose red braid had escaped the helmet and whipped side to side wildly.  Accompanying one of the largest people Tantorom knew was a slender female, helmet-less and bundled with a ridiculous amount of furs.