Arrival
yannoshka
Thunda birb
- Location
- Smartarse cramschool
When Livvy - Liffannen - had laconically described the ancient necropolis as 'A bunch of overgrown towers and canals', Astaria thought she had at least a somewhat decent idea of what to expect.
It only took coming face-to-face with the absurdly tall harbour walls, and realising the things were not cliff faces but actual construction that some ones at some point had erected, for her to understand that her expectations were woefully underperforming, starting with substantially underestimating the scale. By several orders of magnitude.
The absurd things were at least twice as tall as the tallest mast of the largest ship of their armada.
The less said about what she hoped was the lighthouse tower built into those harbour walls, the better.
And the luxuriant foliage, which stretched for miles in all directions, obscured every aspect of the scene until they were right next to it.
Well, she did expect the rampant plant life. Gurni was rather infamous for it. The island was not called Green Hell for nothing.
Astaria's heart sank as she realised the true grandeur of the ancient necropolis. The thought of what other towering structures lay hidden within its walls filled her with… not quite trepidation. More of a wary sense of foreboding.
And her unease was proven right as they navigated past the harbour mouth.
Even the squat-appearing, probable warehouses that populated the harbour each easily topped twenty feet.
While it was not, technically, the largest city she had ever beheld, the great merchant metropolis of Trellyun only managed to keep that title by dint of its sheer sprawl.
In terms of habitable space, if she were any judge, Man-Mell could easily accommodate the entirety of Trellyun's inner boroughs population, with room to spare.
And Liffannen was quite candid about the fact that the place had never been intended to house the living, past the caretakers, funerary priests, and temporary visitors, which her own Spark corroborated.
Those preposterously spatious docks had never been meant for trade nor commerce. Only to accept the remains of the departed, and what supplies were necessary.
Just how grand was this ancient civilisation that they built something of this monumental scale, solely as a… A glorified cemetary.
There had never been anything so magnificent done for such a secondary need, not even by the mad magelords as far as anyone within the exodus knew.
Why, furthermore, were there no other traces of the civilization anywhere that the Tasakarim had been aware of?
Well, there might be something within the Misty Archipelago, but the information coming out of that fog-shrouded pit of malcontent, piracy, and villainy was about as reliable as a skeggi's boasting.
The palpable mantle of divine censure that resonated within her Spark, and the way Liffannen went out of her way never to even indirectly touch upon the Starmother, did leave some clues for a discerning mind to feel out for the shape of the puzzle.
Before becoming the Queen of their exiled realm, Astaria had dedicated a decent portion of herself into building up her career as an imperial judge. Even without the tremendous benefits that her Spark provided, she felt her mind was more than sufficiently sharp and trained to extrapolate some pretty telling conclusions about Lifannen's past and the mysterious connection to the Starmother that she seemed to be avoiding.
Add to that that Astaria's Spark was rather less fruitful in telling her the truth of the matter even when she fully opened up to it, which in itself was rather telling.
What she did get from it, though, told her that there was a deeper story waiting to be uncovered, one that could potentially change the course of their entire realm.
-*-*-
Lyf's brooding thoughts as she considered Man-Mell were complicated and conflicted.
There was a fierce pride that there was not even a single cobblestone out of place, despite the mortuary city having been abandoned for more time than any civilisation had survived, intermixed with sorrow more ancient and primaeval than the trees that intruded upon but never could pass the borders of the city of the dead.
But, more than anything, there was the simmering ball of grief and grievance. She wished she could hate The Sister for what happened here, but in truth, she could not.
The blame laid on her. On her and her three counterparts.
All four of the Na Uselle da Anan, the four kin, Great AN's stewards of the seasons, the last vestiges of the Great One's divinity upon this world, should have known better.
When their people fell from grace and abandoned the ways of their one and only true deity, the caretakers of Man-Mell fell further than most.
Had the four Kins been more attentive…
Had they not been so caught up in what, in hindsight, had been petty politics…
Had they been more firm and forceful and less conciliatory, less forgiving of their people's greed, ingratitude, and entitlement…
Had they only taken the time to think and been more considerate of the fact that while the great one was great indeed, they were less than kind to their own divine descendants...
Had they simply not placed their trust in the treacherous wyrm Ryui-Goch who had been gorging itself on the anima of its grandfather's people's sanctified deceased…
A whole slew of unforgivable what ifs, why nots, and if onlys, that bit to the bone...
No, the… The Starmother was fully justified in her incandescent wrath when she smote her abominable grand-nephew and laid her dire castigation upon Man-Mell.
It was the right thing to do, the just thing to do.
Which made it in no way any less of a shattering blow for the Na Uselle and the rest of the faithful, small as that number had been.
No less painful and degrading, in mind and soul.
She was snapped out of her moribund spiral by the 'Annoying One' opening his big, fat, smug jaw and totally derailing her with another bit of insight he had no right to pull out of nowhere.
"Dancer in the meadows! It took me a little while to remember all the old verses and match them with where you fit. That is who you are. Dancer in the meadows."
Before even she was aware it was happening, Cnàan-droigh was in her hand, grown to full size, humming in a dirge for the loudmouth's heart.
Miraculously, he was already pulled back and surrounded by the wall of his household guards. Not that they could do much, if anything, if she did decide to take his heart.
And, yet the fool paid not a slip of attention to the mortal peril he was cheerfully tapdancing along the edge of.
"Oh, and the spear… That would also make you the lover in the woods. Interesting, interesting. I will have to amend my notes…"
Lyf gave a cold glare, first at the impassive lieutenant of the superhuman troop, and then at his foolhardy primary.
"I would advise you to curb your wagging tongue, Tasakar pup. For all your blathering, you are not a Bard, and thus not afforded the protections." For all the ire he had earned from her with throwing those particular appellations at her. Even Faear was cautioning her that she could not afford to kill him. As if she did not know that.
With a frustrated scream, the child-that-was-not snapped around and flung the spear towards the overgrown wilderness. The spear flew much faster and much farther than it had any right to, and soon enough, the din of many dozens of ships and thousands of people got briefly interrupted by an unmistakable keen of a Wyvern's death-scream.
There, that should do it. A worthy hearth taken in trade. And even better, considering where they were, almost certainly of the bloodline of the moons' most abhorrent son.
-*-*-
Astaria was grimly certain that she would have to box her fool brother's ears, as she was faced with undisguised hostility that radiated from the more-than-simply godtouched child towards Tywin's sauntering figure, and the apparent wariness the household guard in charge of her brother directed towards the eerie child, as the two of them were escorted, grouped but apart to the…
Astaria did not even know what she could call the small gathering she was organising.
It consisted of herself, her husband, her brother, her father-in-law, revered Arch-Exarch Argyle, General Tastacore, of the VIIth legion, and their curiously anomalous guide. Oh, and also Captain Stevenson, but he was firmly instructed to hold his tongue until and unless someone specifically asked for his thoughts.
Chaptermaster Rushmore of the Grayhowl knights had also been invited, but after a quick consultation with the general, he decided his time would be better spent on his mount, scouting out the city interior.
The queen, her immediate family, and four out of the six most powerful and important members of their exodus, and Liffannen whom none of them had any illusion about ranking above everyone but the queen.
It was a leadership council, yet stripped of all the usual attendants, advisors, and assorted other hanger-ons.
"Liffannen, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that it is quite obvious that this place is in some way very important to you and whatever power you serve. I will be neither gauche nor supercilious enough to ask you to divulge things you demonstrably have no intentions of revealing. But, that said, are there any places you explicitly do not wish us to disturb?"
Lyf found herself caught off guard for a moment at the question.
By their bargain struck over the matter with the Anbarr, the queen had no need to show such consideration, and this place had been laid low and abandoned for so long, that the only cares over such considerations that could exist were no more than empty sentimentality.
And yet…
"Not, as such, no." The immortal in a child's body mused and gave the Arch-Exarch an intent scrutiny. "But, there are some kindnesses me and mine would not mind asking for and receiving, that would not put you out in any meaningful way." She went on.
Astaria held her taught and gave the others an opportunity to interject. Seeing as no one had taken it, she carefully nodded at Lyf to expand on her requests.
"There I a… A pool, a reservoir, a body of water, call it what you will a bit deeper in the city. At each side of it there is a single building with four towers, not wholly unalike your celestial temples." As she spoke, she gave the reverend priestess an arch, mockingly amused nod and continued on: "And it would be… apt for the starbound priesthood to use them as such. A more appropriate fate, than any other purpose they might be put to, you might say."
Surprisingly, even Faer, who demonstrably lacked any sense of humour, found the request entirely suitable. Satisfactory even.
"Moreover, we would be grateful if you could see to it that the… Reservoir is kept clean, which would be sensible for you to do anyhow, seeing as it is a major canal thoroughfare, but especially to keep even the bottoms scrubbed for solstices and equinoxes…"
As Lyf spoke, Gayla Argyle, who could usually be counted to be the least excitable member of any company she was a part of suddenly jumped to her feet and grabbed Lyf's hands in her own.
"You cannot mean… Tyrau Tymhorau and a mosaic in the water between them…"
"Tyrau Tymhorau? I guess that is one way to put it… But are you telling me you have knowledge of…"
But the old priestess had already gotten her answer and had bonelessly fallen back down into her chair. She left out a delighted peel of giggly laughter, appropriate for a girl one-fifth the age of Starmother's eldest handmaiden.
"Sweet Starmother and all her children, big and small. A genuine Sovereign's compass! Your majesty! Please accept this request! All the combined priesthood of the celestial pantheon would find it a high honour to volunteer for such a duty!"
Everyone, even Lyf found themselves taken aback and stunned by the usually highly dignified priestesses' outburst.
Everyone… But Tywin Tasakar.
The self-proclaimed bard had a gleam in his eyes as he started reciting from memory.
"Run now children lost!
Flee!
From the serpent's maw
Escape lies, where the dancers' feet flies
Across the compass on her complement's day
Your sanctuary lies
'neath the eye of stars"
It only took coming face-to-face with the absurdly tall harbour walls, and realising the things were not cliff faces but actual construction that some ones at some point had erected, for her to understand that her expectations were woefully underperforming, starting with substantially underestimating the scale. By several orders of magnitude.
The absurd things were at least twice as tall as the tallest mast of the largest ship of their armada.
The less said about what she hoped was the lighthouse tower built into those harbour walls, the better.
And the luxuriant foliage, which stretched for miles in all directions, obscured every aspect of the scene until they were right next to it.
Well, she did expect the rampant plant life. Gurni was rather infamous for it. The island was not called Green Hell for nothing.
Astaria's heart sank as she realised the true grandeur of the ancient necropolis. The thought of what other towering structures lay hidden within its walls filled her with… not quite trepidation. More of a wary sense of foreboding.
And her unease was proven right as they navigated past the harbour mouth.
Even the squat-appearing, probable warehouses that populated the harbour each easily topped twenty feet.
While it was not, technically, the largest city she had ever beheld, the great merchant metropolis of Trellyun only managed to keep that title by dint of its sheer sprawl.
In terms of habitable space, if she were any judge, Man-Mell could easily accommodate the entirety of Trellyun's inner boroughs population, with room to spare.
And Liffannen was quite candid about the fact that the place had never been intended to house the living, past the caretakers, funerary priests, and temporary visitors, which her own Spark corroborated.
Those preposterously spatious docks had never been meant for trade nor commerce. Only to accept the remains of the departed, and what supplies were necessary.
Just how grand was this ancient civilisation that they built something of this monumental scale, solely as a… A glorified cemetary.
There had never been anything so magnificent done for such a secondary need, not even by the mad magelords as far as anyone within the exodus knew.
Why, furthermore, were there no other traces of the civilization anywhere that the Tasakarim had been aware of?
Well, there might be something within the Misty Archipelago, but the information coming out of that fog-shrouded pit of malcontent, piracy, and villainy was about as reliable as a skeggi's boasting.
The palpable mantle of divine censure that resonated within her Spark, and the way Liffannen went out of her way never to even indirectly touch upon the Starmother, did leave some clues for a discerning mind to feel out for the shape of the puzzle.
Before becoming the Queen of their exiled realm, Astaria had dedicated a decent portion of herself into building up her career as an imperial judge. Even without the tremendous benefits that her Spark provided, she felt her mind was more than sufficiently sharp and trained to extrapolate some pretty telling conclusions about Lifannen's past and the mysterious connection to the Starmother that she seemed to be avoiding.
Add to that that Astaria's Spark was rather less fruitful in telling her the truth of the matter even when she fully opened up to it, which in itself was rather telling.
What she did get from it, though, told her that there was a deeper story waiting to be uncovered, one that could potentially change the course of their entire realm.
-*-*-
Lyf's brooding thoughts as she considered Man-Mell were complicated and conflicted.
There was a fierce pride that there was not even a single cobblestone out of place, despite the mortuary city having been abandoned for more time than any civilisation had survived, intermixed with sorrow more ancient and primaeval than the trees that intruded upon but never could pass the borders of the city of the dead.
But, more than anything, there was the simmering ball of grief and grievance. She wished she could hate The Sister for what happened here, but in truth, she could not.
The blame laid on her. On her and her three counterparts.
All four of the Na Uselle da Anan, the four kin, Great AN's stewards of the seasons, the last vestiges of the Great One's divinity upon this world, should have known better.
When their people fell from grace and abandoned the ways of their one and only true deity, the caretakers of Man-Mell fell further than most.
Had the four Kins been more attentive…
Had they not been so caught up in what, in hindsight, had been petty politics…
Had they been more firm and forceful and less conciliatory, less forgiving of their people's greed, ingratitude, and entitlement…
Had they only taken the time to think and been more considerate of the fact that while the great one was great indeed, they were less than kind to their own divine descendants...
Had they simply not placed their trust in the treacherous wyrm Ryui-Goch who had been gorging itself on the anima of its grandfather's people's sanctified deceased…
A whole slew of unforgivable what ifs, why nots, and if onlys, that bit to the bone...
No, the… The Starmother was fully justified in her incandescent wrath when she smote her abominable grand-nephew and laid her dire castigation upon Man-Mell.
It was the right thing to do, the just thing to do.
Which made it in no way any less of a shattering blow for the Na Uselle and the rest of the faithful, small as that number had been.
No less painful and degrading, in mind and soul.
She was snapped out of her moribund spiral by the 'Annoying One' opening his big, fat, smug jaw and totally derailing her with another bit of insight he had no right to pull out of nowhere.
"Dancer in the meadows! It took me a little while to remember all the old verses and match them with where you fit. That is who you are. Dancer in the meadows."
Before even she was aware it was happening, Cnàan-droigh was in her hand, grown to full size, humming in a dirge for the loudmouth's heart.
Miraculously, he was already pulled back and surrounded by the wall of his household guards. Not that they could do much, if anything, if she did decide to take his heart.
And, yet the fool paid not a slip of attention to the mortal peril he was cheerfully tapdancing along the edge of.
"Oh, and the spear… That would also make you the lover in the woods. Interesting, interesting. I will have to amend my notes…"
Lyf gave a cold glare, first at the impassive lieutenant of the superhuman troop, and then at his foolhardy primary.
"I would advise you to curb your wagging tongue, Tasakar pup. For all your blathering, you are not a Bard, and thus not afforded the protections." For all the ire he had earned from her with throwing those particular appellations at her. Even Faear was cautioning her that she could not afford to kill him. As if she did not know that.
With a frustrated scream, the child-that-was-not snapped around and flung the spear towards the overgrown wilderness. The spear flew much faster and much farther than it had any right to, and soon enough, the din of many dozens of ships and thousands of people got briefly interrupted by an unmistakable keen of a Wyvern's death-scream.
There, that should do it. A worthy hearth taken in trade. And even better, considering where they were, almost certainly of the bloodline of the moons' most abhorrent son.
-*-*-
Astaria was grimly certain that she would have to box her fool brother's ears, as she was faced with undisguised hostility that radiated from the more-than-simply godtouched child towards Tywin's sauntering figure, and the apparent wariness the household guard in charge of her brother directed towards the eerie child, as the two of them were escorted, grouped but apart to the…
Astaria did not even know what she could call the small gathering she was organising.
It consisted of herself, her husband, her brother, her father-in-law, revered Arch-Exarch Argyle, General Tastacore, of the VIIth legion, and their curiously anomalous guide. Oh, and also Captain Stevenson, but he was firmly instructed to hold his tongue until and unless someone specifically asked for his thoughts.
Chaptermaster Rushmore of the Grayhowl knights had also been invited, but after a quick consultation with the general, he decided his time would be better spent on his mount, scouting out the city interior.
The queen, her immediate family, and four out of the six most powerful and important members of their exodus, and Liffannen whom none of them had any illusion about ranking above everyone but the queen.
It was a leadership council, yet stripped of all the usual attendants, advisors, and assorted other hanger-ons.
"Liffannen, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that it is quite obvious that this place is in some way very important to you and whatever power you serve. I will be neither gauche nor supercilious enough to ask you to divulge things you demonstrably have no intentions of revealing. But, that said, are there any places you explicitly do not wish us to disturb?"
Lyf found herself caught off guard for a moment at the question.
By their bargain struck over the matter with the Anbarr, the queen had no need to show such consideration, and this place had been laid low and abandoned for so long, that the only cares over such considerations that could exist were no more than empty sentimentality.
And yet…
"Not, as such, no." The immortal in a child's body mused and gave the Arch-Exarch an intent scrutiny. "But, there are some kindnesses me and mine would not mind asking for and receiving, that would not put you out in any meaningful way." She went on.
Astaria held her taught and gave the others an opportunity to interject. Seeing as no one had taken it, she carefully nodded at Lyf to expand on her requests.
"There I a… A pool, a reservoir, a body of water, call it what you will a bit deeper in the city. At each side of it there is a single building with four towers, not wholly unalike your celestial temples." As she spoke, she gave the reverend priestess an arch, mockingly amused nod and continued on: "And it would be… apt for the starbound priesthood to use them as such. A more appropriate fate, than any other purpose they might be put to, you might say."
Surprisingly, even Faer, who demonstrably lacked any sense of humour, found the request entirely suitable. Satisfactory even.
"Moreover, we would be grateful if you could see to it that the… Reservoir is kept clean, which would be sensible for you to do anyhow, seeing as it is a major canal thoroughfare, but especially to keep even the bottoms scrubbed for solstices and equinoxes…"
As Lyf spoke, Gayla Argyle, who could usually be counted to be the least excitable member of any company she was a part of suddenly jumped to her feet and grabbed Lyf's hands in her own.
"You cannot mean… Tyrau Tymhorau and a mosaic in the water between them…"
"Tyrau Tymhorau? I guess that is one way to put it… But are you telling me you have knowledge of…"
But the old priestess had already gotten her answer and had bonelessly fallen back down into her chair. She left out a delighted peel of giggly laughter, appropriate for a girl one-fifth the age of Starmother's eldest handmaiden.
"Sweet Starmother and all her children, big and small. A genuine Sovereign's compass! Your majesty! Please accept this request! All the combined priesthood of the celestial pantheon would find it a high honour to volunteer for such a duty!"
Everyone, even Lyf found themselves taken aback and stunned by the usually highly dignified priestesses' outburst.
Everyone… But Tywin Tasakar.
The self-proclaimed bard had a gleam in his eyes as he started reciting from memory.
"Run now children lost!
Flee!
From the serpent's maw
Escape lies, where the dancers' feet flies
Across the compass on her complement's day
Your sanctuary lies
'neath the eye of stars"