One Silver Dollar [Zkjt]

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

Ellesméra was not my favourite place in the world.

I was undoubtedly a city person, but not just for the people. Imposing stone buildings and dark alleys where one could slip away even when the sun was high in the sky was where I belonged. Ellesméra, with her massive boughs and canopied ceilings, somehow never touched my heart. Maybe it was because my race was not nearly as closely tied to nature as these elves, or maybe it was my simple upbringing among humans. Either way, I found myself preferring the sickness and the imperfection of mortals rather than the overbearing beauty of Du Weldenvarden. It looked more to me like a civilization ready to crumble- few of its people were left, it had reached its cultural peak, and it had little reason to exist anymore. It wouldn’t be long before its inhabitants began to go mad if they remained in the mortal realm any longer. I couldn’t wait to see that.

In the meantime, though, I was still suitably annoyed by Ellesméra, which was probably why I was being so vicious to my servant.

“We must trace ze whereabouts of ze stolen money,” I grumbled.
“But how, Lord D’artagnan?” squealed Santxo.
I leaned down towards the boy, so that I was only mere inches from his face. “What is ze first thing zat people do with stolen money?”
“They hide it in the mattress!”
“No, zey do not.” I gave him a sharp bonk on the head with the flat of his training sword. “Zey divide it up amongst zemselves. What do zey do zen?”
“They spend it?”
“No, zey do not.” I hit him again. “Zey hide it in a mattress. What do zey do zen?”
“I’m afraid to say, Lord D’artagnan…”
I sighed, moving past him. “Always, someone makes a mistake. What is zis mistake?”
His blue eyes lit up. “They send the mattress to the cleaner’s!”
“No, zey do not.” Bonk. “Zey spend some of it. And what do zey spend it on?”
“Excuse me, milord…” I watched in mild amusement as Santxo hurried to a nearby suit of armour, removing the helmet and placing it on his head. Then he rushed back, looking eager. “Luxury goods!”
I thought about that for a moment. “Possibly.”
He took the helmet off with a relieved sigh.
“But zen again, possibly not.” Bonk!

A fierce knocking at the door followed by barks in the Ancient Language announced that Islanzadí was arriving. With a sigh, I glanced up at Santxo, handing his training sword back to him. Son of Lord Nicanor, he was of the shy, nervous sort, and so his father had ordered him to serve those staying at Ellesméra’s palace to toughen him up. I had no problem with it, as I often found myself in dire need of releasing the tension that often cropped up whenever I visited this godforsaken city. I waved the tall blonde boy away, watching him hurry through a side door before turning and inspecting my bedroom.

It was located underneath the roots of the giant tree housing the palace, so it was remarkably dark. I’d covered up the windows when I’d first been allowed to move in here, and now the only thing lighting the entire room was a solitary lantern sitting on the grown oak desk. As for furnishings, I had gone Spartan- a table, two chairs, a bed, and a dresser in the corner. I did not require anything else. However, Islanzadí had gone to the trouble of sprucing it up a bit, hence the suit of armour in the corner, wine cabinet and the colourful designs on the wall. More might have been done if I hadn’t tossed her interior decorators out on their rear ends.

With a sigh, I approached the wine cabinet and pulled out a good bottle- Edda County, thirty years aged- and a cup, and seated myself in one of the chairs, patiently waiting for the queen to arrive. Normally, I would be in the human cities whenever she was safe here in Ellesméra, but a trade deal had gone wrong somewhere within Surda and Du Weldenvarden had lost a notable portion of their precious money. Interestingly, I’d traced it back to this very city, so I’d decided to torture myself by paying Islanzadí a visit and reporting my progress to her. Hopefully, she wouldn’t stick around for long.

“Queen Islanzadí approaches!” roared one of the guards.

I knew they wouldn’t wait for an answer, so I didn’t bother opening my mouth. Instead, I watched calmly as the doors to my room were thrown open by two members of the queen’s heavily armoured escort. They stood to attention as the woman herself strode in. I briefly allowed my eyes to rove over her face- her long black tresses, archaic green eyes and golden-brown skin could take even an elf’s breath away. It was hard to believe that this was the woman who had hunted me ruthlessly for well over a century. However, I’d learned the hard way not to be taken in by a pretty face, and so I calmly poured the wine into the one glass I had- to prove that the drink wasn’t poisoned- and pushed it towards her, silently beckoning her to sit. She eyed me warily before barking at her guards.

“Leave us,” she snapped, and they bowed deeply before withdrawing.
There was a testy silence for a long minute before I stood, arranging my heavy black robes before bowing graciously. “Your Majesty,” I said quietly. “Won’t you join me for a drink?”

Words;; 932
Muse;; Okay-ish.
Thoughts;; It's meh. XD Sorry it took so long!

[zkjt]

"Archia, it does not matter!" I said exasperated as my handmaid began touching my face with her fingers and applying more of the deep red lipstick. I was the Queen, and if I wanted to I could have shoved her away at any moment, but I was fond of her, and enjoyed listening to her theories of what was going on within the elven government. She was not yet 60, and incredibly young by my standards, and yet she was one of the few I found i could actually trust.

"Oh but it does my lady," she said knowingly, a faint smile on her lips. But she relented and drew back, and I looked at myself in the mirror. I was not vain, not at all. But as I looked at myself, and stroked by black hair, I couldn't help but think of my past mate. And now I would be meeting with his killer. I sighed and stood up. I was an elf, and I didn't give up grudges easily, even for an elf. Archia, as if understanding by grievances, bowed and strode out. I was too caught up in memories to even acknowledge her. Many people considered me strong, myself included, but there were times that thinking of her past mate brought her to a standstill and she crumbled. But not now. I needed to be strong. With a final finger brush over my face, I stood and left my quarters.

Anastasio was the murderer of my mate. I had seen him do it, so many years ago. Through my scrying glass I watched as he strode up behind him and stabbed him in the back. Angered and filled with grief I hunted him down, though it took me many years, and captured him. I forced fealty out of him, and being the slimy weasel he was, he accepted graciously, dousing me in apologies and compliments. It had not taken me long to realize I wanted him away from me, and I sent him to Surda to be my spy. And it worked. But Anastasio was not the least of my worries at the moment.

Endorin, the Elf Child, the one I had let be ripped from my grasp, was now a Dragon Rider. A Dragon Rider! I knew it was my fault. He had been to restless, too valuable. Cesar and Schrren had stolen him, and now he was being forced to burn his own home, and kill his own people. My forces had told me what they saw: Tear-stricken face as he went with the main army, attacking elves. He was at the center every time. He showed mercy when he got the chance, and people said he was always reprimanded for it. All these things, along with the infection spreading through the forest, was getting to me. Just yesterday I verbally attacked Archia, in a very unqueenly way, and now I was having trouble sleeping. And now, I got to meet with Anastasio, the one who first started all my troubles.

Leaving my chambers, I allowed my personal guard to step around me and escort me. Why I needed them, I had no clue. It was Ellesmera for crying out loud. But I welcomed their comfort nonetheless. The walk to Anastasio's chambers was not very long and I got there quickly. As we got to his chamber, we passed a blond elf hurrying away. I paid no attention to him, and allowed the guards to announce my arrival. After they opened the door, I strode in.

He was sitting there, calmly pouring a glass of wine. With a cool demeanor I sat down slowly, and told them to leave. And then I turned back to Anastasio. His black hair was as long as ever, and his golden eyes still as unyielding when I wanted answers. He quickly looked me over as well. After a minute's silence, he spoke. "Won't you join me for a drink?" Honestly, I wanted nothing to do with this man, and he might have seen the brief flash of anger on my face, but he showed nothing of it. "Of course, why not?" I was being polite. I held no warmth for him, and never would. As he passed me a drink, I studied his face. Completely unreadable. I doubted if anyone could pass so unnoticeably. I took a cautious sip of the wine, and nodded slightly to show my approval. But now the formalities were over.

Straightening in my chair, I folded my hands over my lap. "Anastasio, the drinks and small talk is over. I would like to know what it is you called me here for, and I want you to tell me everything. I don't want to be here with you know," It was cold, hard, and honest, and I could care less if he was angry. I wasn't in the mood.

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

“Of course, why not?”

Despite the obvious attempt at courteousness, Islanzadí’s voice was cold and hateful. I hid my enormous grin behind the wine bottle as I placed it back on the table, and looked back up at the queen once I had managed it into a faint smile. I couldn’t blame her for despising me. I had, after all, killed the elves’ beloved ruler and her mate an entire century ago, and nobody could hold a grudge better than an elf. I allowed her rage to pass right through me as she seated herself, trying her very hardest to maintain an air of placidity and not exactly succeeding. When we’d first met many months ago, she had screamed and howled at me with anger so passionate that it was actually admirable, and once I’d been ordered out of her presence, I’d heard her weeping bitterly for Evandar. I knew and understood her misery- I’d suffered it myself when he had killed my sister Anastasia just to avoid losing in front of his troops. As such, I held no remorse for his death.

Islanzadí, of course, was too emotional to understand, and had wanted me dead- but something had stopped her, and it wasn’t forgiveness or mutual understanding. She’d wanted to rip me from limb from limb, but her fears had stopped her baser instincts from attacking me. She had nothing to be afraid of when I’d been brought to her- beaten and bleeding with my life in her hands- but once she’d rifled through my memories, she had realized that, despite how powerful her hatred was of me, she could use me. The elves of Alagaësia were crumbling, and she knew it. They had everything- longevity, beauty, safety, and all-encompassing wisdom, with not a flaw to boot- at least, not in their eyes. Everyone but them saw their vanity and their cowardly deceit. But their supposed perfection was beginning to drag them down. Trapped in this forest, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, nerves were beginning to snap. Passions hidden for centuries were beginning to crawl out of the darkness. The elves were losing their sanity.

Or their powers. Islanzadí, who I’d met or observed on several occasions before the Fall of the Riders, was nowhere near as powerful as she once was. She knew this, and the knowledge made her paranoid and aggressive. When the humans of Ceunon had begun cutting down trees in Du Weldenvarden to use as timber in their war effort, she’d reportedly gone in there howling like a banshee and come out trembling and soaked with blood. The merciless cruelty she’d showcased would make Galbatorix sulk with jealousy. That terrified her as well, and now she was in need of allies more than ever before.

That was where little old me had come in. Instead of killing me, she wanted to use me as a secret warrior- to destroy her enemies, both real and those merely conjured up in her imagination, and protect her bodily from harm whenever she left the safe confines of her beloved forest. Naturally, I’d accepted- I happened to have things that I wanted to live for. Since then, I had destroyed anything from rich entrepreneurs to filthy doom-saying beggars, all at her command. She’d been pleased enough with my success to let me live all this time, although I did sometimes feel her will bending her to do the opposite, as I did right now. I watched her carefully for a few moments as she took the first sip of the wine. Her green eyes never left my golden ones, and she radiated fury. Oddly enough, I found this attractive.

Suddenly, she slammed the glass down and folded her arms into her lap, straightening. Fixing me with her potent glare, she said tersely, “Anastasio, the drinks and small talk are over. I would like to know what it is you called me here for, and I want you to tell me everything. I don’t want to be here with you, you know.”

Why did mortal and immortal alike always go for the ones that hated them? Her words were more hard and brittle than glass, and yet they just made me lean closer to better take her beauty in. I took the cup myself, drinking lavishly before setting it down again. I waited before speaking on purpose to see what she would do, and as the moments of silence passed, her temper rose. I could feel it crackling in the very air around me. Remembering that despite being diminished, Islanzadí could still kill me with a single word, I decided to finally give her what she so desired.

“Ma belle reine,” I said quietly, taking one of her slim hands in mine. She flinched hugely, and very obviously restrained herself from slapping me. “I have come to give you news of your money.” She stopped fidgeting. Ah, so now I had her interest. “We found evidence of ze perpetrator and traced ‘im back ‘ere- right to zis very palace. ‘E- or she- could be anyone from a lowly servant to one of your most prominent councillors.” As I expected, she looked horrified. “In zis, I require your ‘elp. Is zere anyone in your court who recently returned from Surda, or ozerwise disappeared suddenly? Further, ‘as anyone been acting strangely… or ‘ave acquired expensive goods? Any odd behaviour, really. Anything you noticed, ma belle, will ‘elp.”

She was too deep in thought, apparently, to notice my subtle flirting, and if she had, she probably would have slapped me or worse. Well, at least I could say I tried, and I wasn’t about to give up, either. Islanzadí was a most amusing woman to play games with.

Words;; 958
Muse;; Alright, but I'm not used to writing posts with lots of thought and little action.
Thoughts;; All in all? It's not bad. XD

[zkjt]

Did he actually think that I liked him? Oh I could see the small smiles behind the wineglass, and I could see the fire in his eyes as he looked at me. What could he possibly want with me? He murdered my mate, yet he expects me to talk to him as if nothing bad ever happened. With the thought of Evandar in my head, I pursued my lips, and only barely restricted myself from snatching my hand away from his and not slapping him right then and there.

“I have come to give you news of your money.” Here I nodded. That was the purpose of his mission after all. “We found evidence of ze perpetrator and traced ‘im back ‘ere- right to zis very palace. ‘E- or she- could be anyone from a lowly servant to one of your most prominent councillors.” At this news, I felt my eyes pop open and my hand quickly covered my mouth. There was NO way anyone in my own Capital City could ever betray me, not even for all the gold in the world. I immediately felt my inside squirm, and images of all people in my city went through my head. Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I continued to listen to what he would have to say.

“In zis, I require your ‘elp. Is zere anyone in your court who recently returned from Surda, or ozerwise disappeared suddenly? Further, ‘as anyone been acting strangely… or ‘ave acquired expensive goods? Any odd behaviour, really. Anything you noticed, ma belle, will ‘elp.” My help. Of course. I furiously began thinking off everyone in the city, starting with the Council. No it couldn't have been any of them. None of them had ever left. But there were many elves who I knew could easily be persuaded. And then I remembered something. Ke'enal, the new rider Endorin's mother, had recently left, to "take a break from everything" immediately I snapped my head up, fixing my green eyes on Anastasio's golden ones.

"I think I know who might have done it," I said not taking my eyes off of his. I stood quickly, waiting impatiently as Anastasio took his sweet time by setting his glass down slowly, and only then standing. "I think it might have been Ke'enal, the mother of Endorin and Kirjava." At the last name he looked confused. I replied quickly, speaking incredibly fast now. "Kirjava was born out of rape, and she was exiled after she performed blood magic on other elves in Du Weldenvarden. Rumors are she's holed up in the Spine, though she was a powerful spellcaster, and no one can find her."

I didn't mention that I was one of the people who couldn't find her. My magic was slowly dwindling in power. Sure, I was stronger than most, including Anastasio, but Kirjava..well, no one can say for sure right? Once I knew Anastasio was up to date, I continued, "Ke'enal left about a month ago, and she's only just returned. No one has seen her, as she's been in her house. I think she might have betrayed me in order to try and save her son, but I'm not sure. Maybe we should just pay her a visit?"

I was really excited now, and I dearly hoped that we could find out what we needed to. Anastasio looked pleased with himself, and bowed low to the floor, sticking his hand out. "Ladies first madamemoiselle," I rolled my eyes, but stepped out of the room, awaiting Anastasio.

[Ze Flying Wraithetti Monstress]

I had often heard whispers of Islanzadí’s ever-present emotions and internal struggles that left many questioning her ability to lead a nation, and I found that displayed before me now. Like her mother-in-law before her, Dellanir, she was not the hereditary ruler of Du Weldenvarden. That position had been Evandar’s, at least until his life had been tragically cut short. That in itself made her ranking as queen far more difficult to maintain, which could either empower or weaken her. The latter appeared to have happened. Emotional issues seemed to run throughout the royal family, seeing as Arya wasn’t doing much better. That made Islanzadí’s temper and paranoia prime for abuse by others, and not just myself. I would have to protect her from those influences, then.

Especially considering the shock she showed at the very possibility that there was a traitor in her midst. I supposed I was rather obvious, what with serving her as repentance for murder rather than love and loyalty, but others were not so noticeable. The elves of Alagaësia had not achieved perfection, not even the illusion of it that they had revelled in over nine and a half thousand years ago in Alalea. Evil and corruption, especially in the young, was subtle, but still very much there. Considering Islanzadí’s ever-present fear and suffering, it was likely she had tricked herself into believing otherwise. Whatever her reasons, I kept my musings hidden, my face remaining calm, a little smile settled upon my lips even when I took a draught from my wine. There was no need to worry her further.

“I think I know who might have done it,” she said abruptly, those lovely emerald eyes dawning with realization. She also stood up, and then glared, clearly expecting me to do the same. I finished my wine and rose gracefully. “I think it might have been Ke’enal, the mother of Endorin and Kirjava.” I quirked an eyebrow questioningly, not recognizing two of the names. Endorin was a fairly new Imperial Rider. “Kirjava was born out of rape, and she was exiled after she performed blood magic on other elves in Du Weldenvarden. Rumours are she’s holed up in the Spine, though she was a powerful spellcaster, and no one can find her. Ke’enal left about a month ago, and she’s only just returned. No one has seen her, as she’s been in her house. I think she might have betrayed me in order to try and save her son, but I’m not sure. Maybe we should just pay her a visit?”

I was disturbed. Blood magic had caused the downfall of elven civilization in Alalea as well as untold terrors, including causing the Kull, a once proud and majestic race, to devolve into the brutal Urgals of today. Such had been its horrors that it had been buried away, only touched approximately five hundred years ago before being smote by the Riders. I had long suspected Malandra Ramakrishna, with her painless soldiers, of using it, but some obscure elf maiden had its powers as well? Blood magic was an incomparable evil that not even I, or anyone among the Red Anyans, dared use. If its secrets were resurfacing, that spelled chaos. It appeared that I would have to leave Alagaësia if I ever got away from Islanzadí. I had seen enough warfare in one lifetime as it was.

I noticed the queen glaring at me yet again. Realizing I had been lost in my thoughts, I smiled graciously and opened the door, bowing deeply. “Ladies first, madame.” She rolled her eyes and walked out. I followed silently.

I had been so stunted by the terrors of blood magic that I’d barely taken in anything else that Islanzadí had said. Something about that Rider’s mother and her having something to do with it. I frowned, wondering how anyone could use money to get their hands on a Rider. They were hardly affordable, not even with a queen’s coffers. However, the woman was a victim of rape, and had lost both of her children. It would be worth seeing what sort of state she was in, and if any vengeance was being planned. Despite my lack of loyalty, it was my duty to protect the queen. Anastasio D’artagnan was a liar and a coward, but he lived up to his promises, few as they were. Afterwards, I could consider the stolen money and the thief’s identity a little more carefully.

We walked down one of the long hallways of the palace, mostly inhabited by servants and soldiers. Islanzadí’s mood was apparent to all, and no one was willing to risk her temper, so we were only disturbed by polite greetings. I was somewhat surprised that Islanzadí wanted to go herself when she could have just summoned Ke’enal, but if it meant that much to her, who was I to complain against a queen’s word? We left the private chambers of the palace unhindered, now passing galleries and meeting rooms filled with droning councillors and noblemen. I knew we were heading to the stables, which I silently cursed- I was wearing fine but flimsy upper-class clothing, not at all suited for a pony ride, however short. I hadn’t known that I’d be due for a field trip.

As we left the palace, Islanzadí ordered two guards to follow her as an escort just before we arrived at the stables. Once there, I left her briefly while she went to collect her steed, likely the most beautiful and strongest of all the animals. I myself was not much of a horseman, let alone attached to any sort of beast, so I merely walked along the stable, checking each and every mind until I found one that suited me. Eventually, I did- her name was Meara, she was white as snow, and her intelligence relied on cunning rather than genius. I muttered in the ancient language, beckoning her towards me. The mare smelled my hand, snorted, shook her mane and inclined her head in acceptance. I poised myself carefully, and then clambered up, settling myself on her back. I wasn’t used to riding any beast of burden, let alone without a saddle as these elves insisted.

“Well, D’artagnan?” came Islanzadí’s voice as she approached on her own horse, flanked by both guards. “Must we linger any longer?”
“Only as long as you desire, ma belle,” I said, smiling gently. Naturally, she was irked, screwing up her nose and holding her chin high before ordering her steed forward.
“Gánga fram, Meara,” I whispered softly into her ear. She snorted and whipped her tail before advancing, following behind Islanzadí’s horse at a respectable distance.

Islanzadí wasn’t in the mood for kissing babies, apparently, because she took the most private route, even if it was one of the longer ones. This road took us past silent gravestones and tombs to the dead of Ellesméra. The heavy spiritual activity nearly gave me a headache. As we rode, I noticed the Revenant take possession of my shadow, giving it the appearance of a cackling monster. Meara felt the demon’s presence and whinnied vehemently, unafraid. If Islanzadí took notice, she said nothing of it. She was aware of my fraternizing with the netherworld, and left it alone so long as I didn’t bring anything unnatural into her lands. The Revenant was quite content to play tricks and frighten my quarry, but it did not have the ability to kill. It was merely a ghost, after all.

After the almost awkwardly silent ride, Islanzadí raised her hand and ordered her horse to stop. I said the same for Meara, and she halted with a snort. I glanced up at Ke’enal’s house, which had no apparent difference from any other home in Ellesméra besides what the inhabitants had changed to their personal tastes. I waited for Islanzadí to dismount, and then followed the motion, stroking Meara and giving her a pat on the neck before telling her to wait. This wasn’t likely to take long. Some famed elven arguing- arguing that was ice cold and relied on wits until one or the other broke into tears and was wrung like a soiled rag- as well as some personal observations made on my part, and then we would be off. Life was so aggravatingly simple here in Du Weldenvarden.

Words;; 1390
Muse;; Pretty good. ^^
Thoughts;; It's not amazing, but it's not bad either. =)