Alexander Snow
Mad Artificer
How long did Humanities fighting retreat last? Decades, Centuries? How many ruined cities are left in Panehedan, the only sign of their inhabitants whatever bones the Ra'zac left?
A Fine Sediment (Inheritance Cycle SI)
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It sounds like mere years. Less than a decade.
And the Ra'zac would not have left bones, in the end. Any they left initially would have been gone back for as they all began to starve.
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TBH I find that kind of unlikely. You can not evacuate an entire continent's worth of people in a few years.
More to the point, the Razac hunters have a deep culture, one that was not established overnight. They've been fighting this war a long time.
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They've been fighting Razac for a long time, but the change to them that caused them to suddenly start overwhelming humanity was recent.
...And they didn't. They didn't evacuate an entire continent's worth of people. They evacuated a fraction of that number in a desperate fighting retreat that saw only a rounding error of the initial population survive.
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All that remains is dust and echoes. I'm sorry.
Azlagûr does good work, don't he?
Alexander Snow
Mad Artificer
Who or what is Azlagûr?
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Harkening back to an older Goda Journal entry, Azlagûr is considered the first dragon in human/dwarven myth and was made poorly. He's considered the god of destruction, filling out a trinity with Gûntera (creation), and Elëa (change). He's also a referenced character in Murtagh.
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Damn, you're a good writer.
Trans rights!
Also, as an idle, navel-gazing aside, I wonder how Elves view social constructs like gender. They're able to transform their bodies into whatever they may desire, to such extremes like abandoning land-based society to go live amongst the fish in the ocean. Further, they're able to transform their bodies, seemingly, whenever they want, so they're not "stuck" to one form.
I could see elven culture having a wide variety of social genders, complex and varied in their nuances, that are almost indecipherable to people. Perhaps part of a Dragon Rider's education is that they are taught these complex nuances --after all, the Riders were not merely guards or soldiers, but also diplomats, and they would need a certain degree of cultural knowledge for all the sentient races of the continent.
The spoilered segment below is just some idle musing. It's an analysis, but I also want to throw in the qualifier that it doesn't really mean anything. There's no pressure on the author to conform to it, and it's just some idle stargazing. Canon knowledge can be tossed out the window, and we're in a brave new world where the author of this fic reigns supreme.
Goda is going to be the most human to ever human, and I find that wonderfully wholesome and endearing. Though, perhaps, the Dwarves and the Elves are going to be frustrated by that. "No, Goda, you can't adopt Hrothgar. You met him yesterday! Put the dwarf down, and stop packbonding with every errant thing that you see!"
I got that reference, I think? A reference to when Saphira reshaped the dwarves' broken culturally-significant gemstone?
Heck yeah.
I like this plan! Sort of like failsafes for if Galbratorix goes crazy again, and the war scours the earth. This is a buffer against genocide, and the erasure of cultures that comes with it. Dragons, first, since that's the most pressing and well-known threat that Goda knows about.
Hm. You know, this is actually interesting. We know that the dwarves and the elves had, historically, poor diplomatic relations. We also know that, after the Fall, the elves basically became an isolationist state, whereas the dwarves remained diplomatically-open, hosting in the Varden, and worked with the human country of Surda.
But, with the emergence of Eragon, the Last Free Dragon Rider, the elves reentered the diplomatic stage. And Eragon, who was forced to treat with both the elves and the dwarves in order to help keep the war effort stable, and maintain a diplomatic cohesion to better fight off Galbratorix's forces -- did so as a human, meaning he was not previously-tied to either side. And thus the dwarves and the elves, if they wished to maintain their influence on the Last Free Dragon Rider, had to play nice with each other.After all, it wouldn't do for the sole Dragon Rider to be indifferent (or worse, antagonistic) to their respective peoples.
It may very well be that diplomatic relations between the dwarves and the elves were actually better after the Fall than before. Or, at the very least, perhaps friendlier, since both races had to cooperate in order to maintain their relationship with Eragon.
But again, that's just the idle musing of a literature nerd, so don't consider these thoughts too seriously. Just some half-baked theories about a book we all enjoy.
Trans rights!
Also, as an idle, navel-gazing aside, I wonder how Elves view social constructs like gender. They're able to transform their bodies into whatever they may desire, to such extremes like abandoning land-based society to go live amongst the fish in the ocean. Further, they're able to transform their bodies, seemingly, whenever they want, so they're not "stuck" to one form.
I could see elven culture having a wide variety of social genders, complex and varied in their nuances, that are almost indecipherable to people. Perhaps part of a Dragon Rider's education is that they are taught these complex nuances --after all, the Riders were not merely guards or soldiers, but also diplomats, and they would need a certain degree of cultural knowledge for all the sentient races of the continent.
The spoilered segment below is just some idle musing. It's an analysis, but I also want to throw in the qualifier that it doesn't really mean anything. There's no pressure on the author to conform to it, and it's just some idle stargazing. Canon knowledge can be tossed out the window, and we're in a brave new world where the author of this fic reigns supreme.
Hm. This is a rather apt simile.
Okay, so, I have various relatives who are farmers, right? Growing up I would often help out on their farms (and I still do), and some of my relatives have guard dogs for their livestock. Not "herding dogs" that live with them, but "sleeps outside, with the livestock, and fights off coyotes, wolves, and other such predators" guard dogs.
And the interesting thing about guard dogs such as these is that the sheep will learn to alert the guard dogs if they're able to sense a threat that the dog hasn't noticed, yet. They'll approach the dog with an alert, nervous posture, and the dog will get up, and explore (the best guard dogs are bred for this, and they're happy lil boys who love their job).
But I digress, sorry.
The point, I think, is that guard dogs are not quite "the sheep walk on eggshells around the predator species amongst them" but are, instead, "a valued member of the sheep flock." The sheep will cuddle up to guard dogs, introduce them to their young, and generally engage with the guard dog as a member of their community.
And the guard dog reciprocates in kind (because guard dogs are hecking good boys who love their fluffy little friends). It is not uncommon for a guard dog to take on an alert, wary stance, when a farmer interacts with a new lamb/calf, because while their human owner is a friend to the guard dog, the guard dog is still a guard dog, and has taken the flock of sheep/herd of cattle under his wing.
So, long rambling aside, it's interesting that Goda says "we are treated differently." Because "differently" doesn't mean "bad," or "poorly." With the knowledge above, we can interpret Goda as saying "I am going to make myself a visible guard dog for the people, a protector that can be recognized as such on sight. I am going to transform my body to reflect this, and to better show my protectees that I will be there for them."
If you even want to be romantic (in the "emotionality," sense, rather than the "romantic love" sense"), you could say that Goda is transforming his body to show "I will not misplace your trust in me. Look upon my form, and know that I will be the eyes in the night, and the guard at the gate. Look to me, and know that you are safe."
Further, as an aside, it's interesting how Goda embodies the principles of his people. His people threw themselves into the meat grinder to allow other cultures, other civilizations, the time to escape. They burned themselves on the altar of sacrifice so that others might yet live. And here, Goda is fully embracing the role of a protector. He is, once again, taking up the mantle of "protector of others," and literally reshaping his body to reflect that dedication.
Okay, so, I have various relatives who are farmers, right? Growing up I would often help out on their farms (and I still do), and some of my relatives have guard dogs for their livestock. Not "herding dogs" that live with them, but "sleeps outside, with the livestock, and fights off coyotes, wolves, and other such predators" guard dogs.
And the interesting thing about guard dogs such as these is that the sheep will learn to alert the guard dogs if they're able to sense a threat that the dog hasn't noticed, yet. They'll approach the dog with an alert, nervous posture, and the dog will get up, and explore (the best guard dogs are bred for this, and they're happy lil boys who love their job).
But I digress, sorry.
The point, I think, is that guard dogs are not quite "the sheep walk on eggshells around the predator species amongst them" but are, instead, "a valued member of the sheep flock." The sheep will cuddle up to guard dogs, introduce them to their young, and generally engage with the guard dog as a member of their community.
And the guard dog reciprocates in kind (because guard dogs are hecking good boys who love their fluffy little friends). It is not uncommon for a guard dog to take on an alert, wary stance, when a farmer interacts with a new lamb/calf, because while their human owner is a friend to the guard dog, the guard dog is still a guard dog, and has taken the flock of sheep/herd of cattle under his wing.
So, long rambling aside, it's interesting that Goda says "we are treated differently." Because "differently" doesn't mean "bad," or "poorly." With the knowledge above, we can interpret Goda as saying "I am going to make myself a visible guard dog for the people, a protector that can be recognized as such on sight. I am going to transform my body to reflect this, and to better show my protectees that I will be there for them."
If you even want to be romantic (in the "emotionality," sense, rather than the "romantic love" sense"), you could say that Goda is transforming his body to show "I will not misplace your trust in me. Look upon my form, and know that I will be the eyes in the night, and the guard at the gate. Look to me, and know that you are safe."
Further, as an aside, it's interesting how Goda embodies the principles of his people. His people threw themselves into the meat grinder to allow other cultures, other civilizations, the time to escape. They burned themselves on the altar of sacrifice so that others might yet live. And here, Goda is fully embracing the role of a protector. He is, once again, taking up the mantle of "protector of others," and literally reshaping his body to reflect that dedication.
Goda is going to be the most human to ever human, and I find that wonderfully wholesome and endearing. Though, perhaps, the Dwarves and the Elves are going to be frustrated by that. "No, Goda, you can't adopt Hrothgar. You met him yesterday! Put the dwarf down, and stop packbonding with every errant thing that you see!"
I got that reference, I think? A reference to when Saphira reshaped the dwarves' broken culturally-significant gemstone?
Heck yeah.
I like this plan! Sort of like failsafes for if Galbratorix goes crazy again, and the war scours the earth. This is a buffer against genocide, and the erasure of cultures that comes with it. Dragons, first, since that's the most pressing and well-known threat that Goda knows about.
Hm. You know, this is actually interesting. We know that the dwarves and the elves had, historically, poor diplomatic relations. We also know that, after the Fall, the elves basically became an isolationist state, whereas the dwarves remained diplomatically-open, hosting in the Varden, and worked with the human country of Surda.
But, with the emergence of Eragon, the Last Free Dragon Rider, the elves reentered the diplomatic stage. And Eragon, who was forced to treat with both the elves and the dwarves in order to help keep the war effort stable, and maintain a diplomatic cohesion to better fight off Galbratorix's forces -- did so as a human, meaning he was not previously-tied to either side. And thus the dwarves and the elves, if they wished to maintain their influence on the Last Free Dragon Rider, had to play nice with each other.
It may very well be that diplomatic relations between the dwarves and the elves were actually better after the Fall than before. Or, at the very least, perhaps friendlier, since both races had to cooperate in order to maintain their relationship with Eragon.
But again, that's just the idle musing of a literature nerd, so don't consider these thoughts too seriously. Just some half-baked theories about a book we all enjoy.
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Alexander Snow
Mad Artificer
Will we get more of Goda interacting with humans who know who he is and what his people did for them?
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Ah. Even without eating all the animals, burning all the forests down would be... not quite that bad.
Okay. So. Vegetation, forests in particular, increase the soil's ability to absorb and store water. They are the biggest defense against erosion. They release water into the air (evapotranspiration), thereby increasing the amount of rain downwind. They do a bunch of other good things, like cleaning the air and the water, providing temperature regulation, and providing shelter and food. If you kill all the plants in an area, you get more surface runoff and more soil loss. Muddy flash floods, blowing dust, stripped topsoil, landslides. If the area is large enough you get rapid desertification.
For Panahedan to look like this, more than half a decade on, means that the soil seed bank is also dead.
That continent will take a very long time to recover. Large swathes of it will have to start over from lichen on bedrock.
Combined with the horror stories of the evacuation... (Sacrificing a national capital as bait for a suicide-trap, where the population is the bait. What.)
The more I hear about the fall of Panahedan, the more the Enfuckening seems like the best name for it. Or perhaps the Ra'zac Cataclysm, if the history writers don't want to be crude.
Okay. So. Vegetation, forests in particular, increase the soil's ability to absorb and store water. They are the biggest defense against erosion. They release water into the air (evapotranspiration), thereby increasing the amount of rain downwind. They do a bunch of other good things, like cleaning the air and the water, providing temperature regulation, and providing shelter and food. If you kill all the plants in an area, you get more surface runoff and more soil loss. Muddy flash floods, blowing dust, stripped topsoil, landslides. If the area is large enough you get rapid desertification.
For Panahedan to look like this, more than half a decade on, means that the soil seed bank is also dead.
That continent will take a very long time to recover. Large swathes of it will have to start over from lichen on bedrock.
Combined with the horror stories of the evacuation... (Sacrificing a national capital as bait for a suicide-trap, where the population is the bait. What.)
The more I hear about the fall of Panahedan, the more the Enfuckening seems like the best name for it. Or perhaps the Ra'zac Cataclysm, if the history writers don't want to be crude.
Alexander Snow
Mad Artificer
Goda is the History Writer, I have no doubt that officially if will go down in history as "The Enfuckening". Thousands of years in the future students will sit down on their classes and learn all about "The Enfuckening" through whatever surviving literature there is and maybe even from Goda himself if he is still around.
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Honestly this... It would be like if James Patterson tried to write a book about the American Civil War, and President Abraham Lincoln, himself, stopped by to say "lol, no, it didn't happen like that. Here's what actually happened..."
Chairtastic
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Thank you!
Are human rights!
It's also a general style of sculpture if I remember right. Using flawed stone and sculpting around the flaw to present it as beautiful.
Heck yeah.
Jeod will probably know what the Amusel did, as would most of the Arcaena. But outside them? The number of people who fit that category is shockingly low.
Remember when I said that cultures that don't leave extensive graveyards full of mostly-preserved corpses had a real tough time with the ra'zac? Someone has to be the bait. Either the dead, or the living. Because if no one's the bait, they chase you down until there's none of you left.
[aliens meme guy pose] The Enfuckening.
"He was hammered in the ass until he died of being hammered in the ass."
"Goda that's not how King Palancar died, and you know it."
"I was there! I seen't it!"
Goda's Journal #12
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Goda's Journal -- Entry Twelve
---
Translated from braille.
--
I'm beginning to think the myths of Elëa and Azlagûr might be humans expanding the mythos. Hrothgar's unfamiliar with them -- though he had an unconscious reaction to Azzy's name.
With my transformation complete, I realize I've unconsciously created a microcosm of the trinity. Dwarf, wolf(human), and dragon.
Hrothgar wants to take me on a tour of the Beors assuming he can complete a masterwork. Apparently my new monstertötungs cane doesn't count per Dwarf tradition because it was a commission. A masterwork has to be made because the smith wants to make it, not at the behest of a customer.
I'm going to be busy, anyway. Shiroderu found it. A copy of the book of good spirits. I'm reading up on them and -- if we'd even been able to keep one copy of this book, we might have saved literal thousands of lives.
Whoever ordained these books should be made of gold ought to be stabbed. In the kidneys. Repeatedly.
It's hard to be angry -- I have a part of my culture back I'd never thought would return.
They also found a banishing chime earring, which I gave to Hrothgar. None of the Amusel survivors I talked to knew what they meant anymore, just that they're called banishing chimes and you give them to people you love.
Two years with a dwarf and I go from 'interested' to 'love'.
I've communicated my changes to Sëylid, Thuviel, and Anurin so they won't be surprised when I show up. As much fun as startling them is, I get the feeling things are becoming tense back home.
Apparently, rather than be given the chance to adjust back to civilization on getting back, I'm to be sent of to Ilirea. I'm the most senior human Rider, and this is a human dispute, per the Elders.
Five soft pretzels says it's humans moving into abandoned real estate and the elf queen hasn't even noticed yet.
Anurin seems at a loss. Reading between the lines, I don't think she can grasp why the other Elders seem to want to do the elf queen's bidding even when they're exiles. I calmly asked her how often she talked to the queen versus the other Elders.
If my suspicions are correct, they think if they're good enough that the queen will take them back, that they can return to Du Weldenvarden. I know that's not how this section of history ends, and Anurin can guess at it, but the Elders at large can't.
The kindest I can be about it is, this is a radical change, it happened less than a decade ago, for a lot of these Elders a decade is the benchmark for things to become accepted as no longer being 'recent'.
Aya and Morito have decided to explore the Frozen Desert region more solo, watching the eggs we've left with them and keeping them from hatching just yet. I have their hearts with me, though I would have preferred that they kept them internal.
The two of them will begin work on the wild dragons to talk about populating the Vault of Sands. I'm not fond of the name, but the dragons decided on it. It's their vault, they can name it what they want.
Their memories of Panahedan will serve them well in getting dragons on board, I hope. The desolation.
It's all gone.
I went by where Nyberg was, and there's not even ruins anymore.
When we were passing through Hosenka, I saw 'that' gate was still standing. Still locked up. Maybe I can talk about it now.
My first kill with my old monstertötungs cane wasn't a ra'zac, it was a Proda sentry. Hosenka's leaders were trying to brew a poisonous lure to draw the ra'zac to a specific place to let the citizens get to safety. They needed time, and the ra'zac kept taking people from the walls. One or two at a time.
The man I killed, his daughter had been taken off the wall earlier in the day. He was shattered by that, I could tell. Then, he heard her voice calling from over the wall, in the dark. Saying that she'd gotten away, he just needed to open the door. That she was hurt, and 'they' were coming.
Ra'zac can mimic voices. There was a chance that the daughter genuinely did get away, but I was too young to think that was possible. If the ra'zac took you, you were gone, as grandpa would say. Don't expect rescue, just make them hurt before you go.
Well, the sentry went mad with desperation and hope. Nobody else could be spared from the wall, I had to be the one to do it.
That gate was still closed when we abandoned Hosenka. And it's still closed now. I didn't have the heart to look, and see if I'd find a Proda woman's skeleton on the other side.
What happened to Panahedan cannot be allowed to happen again. You'd think having gone through this would make me someone that Yellow King could relate to. But no, Hast --
Ow!
He has to be a standoffish bitch!
Ugh, entropy makes me hungry. Imma eat the last of the bacon and blame Deru. That's always fun.
Ciao.
---
---
Translated from braille.
--
I'm beginning to think the myths of Elëa and Azlagûr might be humans expanding the mythos. Hrothgar's unfamiliar with them -- though he had an unconscious reaction to Azzy's name.
With my transformation complete, I realize I've unconsciously created a microcosm of the trinity. Dwarf, wolf(human), and dragon.
Hrothgar wants to take me on a tour of the Beors assuming he can complete a masterwork. Apparently my new monstertötungs cane doesn't count per Dwarf tradition because it was a commission. A masterwork has to be made because the smith wants to make it, not at the behest of a customer.
I'm going to be busy, anyway. Shiroderu found it. A copy of the book of good spirits. I'm reading up on them and -- if we'd even been able to keep one copy of this book, we might have saved literal thousands of lives.
Whoever ordained these books should be made of gold ought to be stabbed. In the kidneys. Repeatedly.
It's hard to be angry -- I have a part of my culture back I'd never thought would return.
They also found a banishing chime earring, which I gave to Hrothgar. None of the Amusel survivors I talked to knew what they meant anymore, just that they're called banishing chimes and you give them to people you love.
Two years with a dwarf and I go from 'interested' to 'love'.
I've communicated my changes to Sëylid, Thuviel, and Anurin so they won't be surprised when I show up. As much fun as startling them is, I get the feeling things are becoming tense back home.
Apparently, rather than be given the chance to adjust back to civilization on getting back, I'm to be sent of to Ilirea. I'm the most senior human Rider, and this is a human dispute, per the Elders.
Five soft pretzels says it's humans moving into abandoned real estate and the elf queen hasn't even noticed yet.
Anurin seems at a loss. Reading between the lines, I don't think she can grasp why the other Elders seem to want to do the elf queen's bidding even when they're exiles. I calmly asked her how often she talked to the queen versus the other Elders.
If my suspicions are correct, they think if they're good enough that the queen will take them back, that they can return to Du Weldenvarden. I know that's not how this section of history ends, and Anurin can guess at it, but the Elders at large can't.
The kindest I can be about it is, this is a radical change, it happened less than a decade ago, for a lot of these Elders a decade is the benchmark for things to become accepted as no longer being 'recent'.
Aya and Morito have decided to explore the Frozen Desert region more solo, watching the eggs we've left with them and keeping them from hatching just yet. I have their hearts with me, though I would have preferred that they kept them internal.
The two of them will begin work on the wild dragons to talk about populating the Vault of Sands. I'm not fond of the name, but the dragons decided on it. It's their vault, they can name it what they want.
Their memories of Panahedan will serve them well in getting dragons on board, I hope. The desolation.
It's all gone.
I went by where Nyberg was, and there's not even ruins anymore.
When we were passing through Hosenka, I saw 'that' gate was still standing. Still locked up. Maybe I can talk about it now.
My first kill with my old monstertötungs cane wasn't a ra'zac, it was a Proda sentry. Hosenka's leaders were trying to brew a poisonous lure to draw the ra'zac to a specific place to let the citizens get to safety. They needed time, and the ra'zac kept taking people from the walls. One or two at a time.
The man I killed, his daughter had been taken off the wall earlier in the day. He was shattered by that, I could tell. Then, he heard her voice calling from over the wall, in the dark. Saying that she'd gotten away, he just needed to open the door. That she was hurt, and 'they' were coming.
Ra'zac can mimic voices. There was a chance that the daughter genuinely did get away, but I was too young to think that was possible. If the ra'zac took you, you were gone, as grandpa would say. Don't expect rescue, just make them hurt before you go.
Well, the sentry went mad with desperation and hope. Nobody else could be spared from the wall, I had to be the one to do it.
That gate was still closed when we abandoned Hosenka. And it's still closed now. I didn't have the heart to look, and see if I'd find a Proda woman's skeleton on the other side.
What happened to Panahedan cannot be allowed to happen again. You'd think having gone through this would make me someone that Yellow King could relate to. But no, Hast --
Ow!
He has to be a standoffish bitch!
Ugh, entropy makes me hungry. Imma eat the last of the bacon and blame Deru. That's always fun.
Ciao.
---
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Ha! I knew it!
But I have to ask: Did that particular life end with being summoned into a school gymnasium, followed by 13 seconds of some old guy singing O Canada before hitting a detonator?
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I think that Goda's primary concern (with regard to the book, anyway) should be to make several copies of it, and then to spread such knowledge out amongst the humans and Riders. The copies should prevent the knowledge from being lost, forever, and spreading it would help the humans regain some of their previous quality of life and culture. The Riders, confronted with a wealth of friendly spirits, might be even more willing to engage with humans' kindly summoning practices than they already are --as opposed to their own, violently aggressive summoning rituals.
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That's one of Has -- ow -- his lives, yeah. Not specifically the one being referred to in your quoted text, but one of 'em.
He's also sending a copy to the dwarves for their library. They might practice much sorcery, but they're a 'better to have it and not need it' type of people.
Ch 13
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Chapter Thirteen: Oil on the slope.
---
Shiroderu
Two years on the wing, out in the wild. They were of mixed minds as they approached Doru Araeba. Shiro worried that there would be no safe way to document their adventures without risking The Plan. Deru worried that Goda's changes or Aya and Morito's leaving would prompt an inquiry.
They already risked it by having left their eggs with their friends in the Frozen Desert.
Goda was still unhappy with them. He had been so since they disgorged their hearts to remain in long-distance real-time communication. Like an irate mother, he'd scolded the two of them but it quickly devolved into a tirade on how much he was happy that they trusted him.
They approached Bid'Daum Plaza for landing, only to be flanked by other dragons as they neared landing.
'The Elder Council would like to see you post haste,' was transmitted to them from the black dragon on their port side. 'Please break off landing, and come to the Council building.'
They conferred with their Rider. Weighed the cost of defiance versus the risks to The Plan if an Elder touched their friend's hearts.
'We have a guest who is not a Rider,' Shiro sent back to the black dragon. 'We must land so they may depart without being privy to Rider affairs.'
The flanking dragons were silent for a moment, then widened their distance from Shiroderu.
'You may land, then. Please return to the air after they have disembarked.'
Goda and Shiroderu chaffed under authority they didn't respect. The Elders were keen to demand respect, though only Vrael and Anurin seemed ready to earn it. Annúminas was an exception, he never demanded nor asked for any respect – as his period of mourning wasn't concluded.
In moments, Shiroderu felt sand between their claws as they landed and crouched down for Hrothgar to leave.
The plaza in springtime was beautiful. Trees had been planted along the perimeter of the inner and outer rings – too young to flower or bear fruit, but there was time. New scents of spices, songs they hadn't heard before came to them as the wind shifted.
As Goda helped Hrothgar down, Shiroderu scanned the perimeter to see if any familiar faces were around. No such luck, though the two sisters came to differing conclusions.
'Those trees, if they are fruiting trees, will provide free food in the growing season. A measure against poverty,' Deru observed.
'Once grown they will block any view of the inner ring and Bid'Daum's statue from the outer ring altogether. A measure to keep so-called undesirables from enjoying the full plaza,' Shiro replied, waspish.
'What has you in a mood?'
'I hate having to bite my tongue for these Elders.'
'Would you like me to do the talking for us, if talking needs doing? You can tell me all the mean things you want to say, and not bite your tongue at all.'
'That would be for the best. I might just remind the Elders of their failings.'
And oh! How they hated to be reminded of their failings.
Shiroderu gave Hrothgar warm goodbyes, as did Goda. They suspected, but didn't know, that Hrothgar knew they had been summoned by the Elders because Goda wasn't as affectionate as normal. As two years had slipped by, Goda hadn't been shy about his negative opinions of them.
Shortly, they were in the air again. Their body ached from the long flight, but they didn't complain. They threaded their thoughts amongst Goda's, twisted and inter-locked to a deathly sharp point. Goda's attack barrier slipped over their minds like a winter coat.
The messengers guided them to a structure much like an amphitheater, many rows of seating that reached down to a dais where speakers could stand and be heard – all sized appropriately for dragons, mind.
Enormous trees, dozens of meters tall, stood around the perimeter; their boughs were heavy with new growth. In the wintertime, the trees would be sung to so that their trunks would twist and curve, to form barriers from wind and snow.
On the rows of seats, separated by elf-sized stairs, the Elders sat. Most didn't turn as Shiroderu and their Rider entered. The few that did made their displeasure known – scowls, curled lips, furrowed brows.
Among them was Anurin, and Cassandra, both near the bottom of the amphitheater. Whatever business they had interrupted with their arrival was long gone, for the chamber was silent as Shiroderu and their Rider approached. Covered erisdars cast light downward, somewhat necessary due to the shadows cast by the exterior trees. Their teachers were lit brightly from above, while most other Elders were lit from the sides or below.
Goda did not move to leave Shiroderu's saddle until they arrived at the dais. Then, when he hopped off, he bowed to their teacher. Shiroderu followed him in that gesture.
{"We have been summoned, so we appear."} Goda's tone was unenthusiastic, but still respectful. From his bond with them, they could feel his annoyance as it echoed off of Shiro's annoyance and the two feelings began to harmonize.
Deru quickly began to flood her sister and Rider with more positive emotions, lest that double-annoyance get them in trouble.
{"Welcome back from the wider world, did you see anything interesting?"} Anurin asked, playful in her tone. {"Any odd fungi or spectacular wonders?"}
{"Not so much. I found out there's an upper limit on how many corpses decomposers can handle at once, though."}
Vrael, among the scattered Elders, cleared his throat.
Anurin and Goda both glanced in his direction, then said nothing he would care to hear.
{"I did find some historical artifacts from the ruins on Panahedan, really looking forward to making copies and having them put into a museum. Have you poor elves discovered how to make museums yet?"}
{"As a matter of fact, we have! It took us a bit longer than others to realize the value in preserving history, but we got there eventually!"}
Deru noted how Vrael's eyelid had started to twitch, and many Elders began to grow upset. 'Please get to the point, so we can leave?' She asked her Rider, pleading.
Goda sighed. {"I'm always so happy seeing you elves discover culture. Warms my heart."} Goda made a show of placing his hand over his chest and grinning – to bare his fangs where the Elders could see, most likely. When he spoke again, he was much more professional. {"So then, what is so important that you break tradition to see me so soon?"}
The tradition was that Riders, on return from their map-expansion tours, would speak to the order's cartographer to formally add their maps onto older maps. Then the Elders would summon them to answer questions about what they had seen there.
Anurin gestured to the room and its occupants. {"Well. Shortly after you flew off, a situation came up they wanted you to handle for them. I didn't want to bother you on your tour, so they're a bit pent up about the whole thing."}
Shiroderu moved so that Goda was in front of them, between their heads, and laid down. Goda, similarly, sat crisscross-applesauce with his cane across his knees before them.
{"Well then. How can we help?"}
--
Hrothgar
Scarcely a day back in Doru Araeba, and Hrothgar found himself a little depressed to not have Goda and Shiroderu with him at all times. He'd grown accustomed to them being a turn of the head away always, and it made him look a fool in the workshop when he'd tried to show the absent human-wolf creature and dragon something his kin had made while they were gone.
Which made him all the more excited when he felt the brush of familiar thoughts on his mind.
'I know we've only just arrived, but I have a true Rider mission which requires knurla assistance,' Goda thought to him, words spoken with a nation's whispered voices. 'Want to go to Ilirea?'
As Goda explained it to him, he explained to Old Yngol, to allow another departure from the workshop.
"Humans have settled in the old elf city, along with knurla from Dûrgrimst Moldûn. The elves say they haven't abandoned the settlement yet, so they're trespassing."
As soon as Hrothgar finished explaining, Yngol stood up from his work stool, went to a far table to grab his glasses, returned to his work stool, and put his glasses on. He promptly took them off and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. "They've been there for years at this point."
"Yep," Hrothgar agreed.
"And they want to send a human to sort this out?"
"Because Goda is a respected figure among the humans, they want to seem like they're approaching this in good faith."
Yngol softly counted backward from ten, then looked up at Hrothgar. "Alright – and why does he want you to go with him?"
"Because he suspects that the humans are being manipulated by Dûrgrimst Moldûn but isn't sure, and wants me to make sure he isn't being prejudicial."
Because Goda had promised something called a 'veto', which amounted to 'stop that, right now', Yngol allowed Hrothgar to go so soon after having come back. Hrothgar hadn't even had time to tell them about the floating crystal, or how humans had the same gods as them.
So they made their way to Ilirea. Slowly. Neither Goda or Shiroderu much appreciated being given the task to solve the problem so soon after their return, when they hadn't even a chance to rest.
Ilirea was deep inland, at the heart of the Inzilbêth province of the old elven kingdom. Inzilbêth stretched from the woods that surrounded Lake Tüdosten, to the edge of Du Weldenvarden, and comprised the lands between those two points.
The city was a ruin, built atop and below an overhang of rock. Its white walls cracked and overgrown with ivy. Tall, spindly spires of stone and glass filled the city, too delicate to please a knurla's sensibilities. Atop the overhang was the palace, Castle Ilirea, a miniature walled city in its own right, with six towers covered in thousands of emeralds embedded in the stone.
Pretty, but not someplace that Hrothgar would expect knurla to feel comfortable.
Shiroderu landed on the cracked road that led to the ivy-laden gates of the city. They were ponderously huge, carved with elven figures that acted out a scene from their history.
"Now we wait," Goda said and ran his hand through the ropes of fur he'd transformed his hair into.
"For them to realize we're here?" Hrothgar followed up as he moved sit down next to Goda's seat.
"With that rock over their heads, I don't think they saw us fly in. Call it a suspicion of mine." They were silent for a couple moments before Goda's ear flicked. "Someone just got zapped on my attack barrier."
"What's that like?"
"I overload their mind so they can only think of one thing, that I dictate. Usually something harmless but annoying." Goda crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "...Yep, they're in Lamchop's song."
Hrothgar knew, in his heart muscles, that he shouldn't ask what that was. It took all his willpower to keep his mouth shut.
Similarly, it seemed to take the entire settlement's willpower to open the gates from how long they waited. When the gates opened, there were humans there – but not armed. Hrothgar looked at them from Shiroderu's back and saw not a single weapon in human hands.
The weapons all belonged to knurla, stood in a ring ready to fight the mighty dragon.
'Their gear is not meant for this task,' Shiro observed.
'Those crossbows won't even glance our scales, and they don't have any pikes,' Deru added on.
'All this to say, they didn't do this for military reasons.' Was Goda's summation. Once the gates were opened, he spoke. "I am Goda Nyberg, Argetlam. I understand there is a dispute here, and would like to request permission to arbitrate it."
From amongst the crowd, a knurla in the violet robes of Dûrgrimst Moldûn, with a conical hat and a silk veil that covered their face. "We deny your request, Argetlam!" The knurla, a woman shouted. She pointed at him, her arm heavy with amethyst jewelry. "The elves abandoned this city before your King tried to take it. No elf monarch has so much as set foot here for two hundred years! Dûrgrimst Moldûn lays claim to this city, these are dwarf lands! You have no authority here!"
All was silent as the warriors readied their weapons, as Shiroderu rose up to her full height and flared her wings.
It only occurred to Hrothgar after a moment that, perhaps no one could see Goda clearly, or thought he was dressed in a costume to appear so inhuman and not address it.
"...Very well." Goda responded to the woman's declaration. "Then I would like to request arbitration by Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, one of whom I happen to have here." He nudged Hrothgar to stand. "Is that acceptable?"
The woman was silent for a moment as she watched Hrothgar stand to be as tall as Goda kneeling down. Slowly, her hooded and veiled head nodded. "It is. The Ingeitum are honorable. We would accept their arbitration." She pointed dramatically again. "But you and your dragon will remain outside our walls until the curse you've afflicted our kinsman with is lifted!"
Hrothgar felt tightness in his stomach. He was going to have to negotiate with one of the most mean-spirited and vengeful clans, and the elves. Not a favorable situation.
'If you need anything from us, we will be there when you call,' Goda thought at him. With a dramatic flair, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. "Curse lifted."
--
Thuviel
To use a phrase of Goda's, he wasn't a happy camper. Thuviel hadn't been given an opportunity to even see Goda before the Elders sent him off. He'd wanted to see the wolfy changes his best friend had undergone with his own eyes! Scrying didn't work on him because Goda had changed so much apparently.
And, a week later, Thuviel was made into a messenger to convey official discommendation from the Elders to Goda about how he'd handled the Ilirea situation.
Kjöti had ferried him off Vroengard for the first time in nearly a decade, and it was to deliver censure. Ugh!
'They're upset, we were just convenient messengers.' Kjöti tried to soothe his Rider's agitation as they neared the wide plains of Inzilbêth.
Farther south, so far that the curvature of the planet blocked their ability to see it, was the forests of home, on the shores of Lake Tüdosten. It wouldn't be a terribly long time to go and see his family. But he was only allowed to fly unescorted to Ilirea. Once there, it would be Goda's decision if Thuviel could go south.
Being the unaccredited Rider in the friend group sucked.
'They're going to be mad at me too if I can't make Goda feel bad for the discommendation, which I won't be able to do because he doesn't respect their reasons for the mission in the first place.' Thuviel responded, grumpy. 'They've got to be scrying us this whole time to make sure we do it right.'
'Probably. But as Anurin has shown – there's not much anyone can do to convince them not to be mad when they've set their hearts on being upset.' In some ways, the Elders were like children. With authority.
Thuviel imagined it was the prolonged periods of time without accountability. They answered to no one but other Elders, and there was no being ejected from the Council once on it. Once a person became an Elder, they were free to behave in whatever way they wished, and there were no repercussions.
As they approached Ilirea, they saw Shiroderu outside the city walls. Their spice-brown scales stood out against the white stone even with ivy growing upon it. The two-headed dragon was laid down, with humans around them – mostly children.
Older humans were gathered around a point not far away. Between the dragon's laying place, and the city gates.
Thuviel had never seen Ilirea's gates in person, only drawings of their carvings. The story they told was of how the elves sang an underground river to the surface and it became the Ramr river just north of the city.
He found it odd that the royal family had made their city's gates so large that Riders on dragonback could make out the details, but Ilirea was of a different time. When the royal family was so large that a city just for their use was required.
Kjöti soon landed on the road to the gates, and then Thuviel could see what drew the elder human's responses. A human-like creature that had features not unlike a wolf. A pelt of fur across their skin in two shades of brown, thick ropes of fur that resembled hair in a complex interconnected braid. Black lips and a black wolf's nose at the end of a human-like nasal bridge.
Dressed in familiar dark clothes, and carrying a familiar cane.
Goda!
For a moment he could forget the bad news he had to bring. Thuviel unbuckled his legs from the saddle Kjöti wore, and jumped from his shoulders as they drew near. "Goda!" He called out, happy as a flower at dawn to see his old friend.
Kjöti let out a rumbling laugh as he calmly walked around the humans and Riders, to lay down beside Shiroderu. The children quickly began to climb on him too.
Goda stood beside a podium where a book with gold pages was set, and stood aside to allow Thuviel to approach him. His canine-like ears swept forward to give the elf his full attention. "Thuviel, what're you doing here?" He looked around at the confused humans, and gestured to the cane he carried, and Thuviel. "Leaner," he said as an explanation.
The humans had been tense without Thuviel directly realizing why, then relaxed when Goda explained. Thuviel reached for his belt and unbuckled his own monstertötungs cane, so the humans could see it.
He had a fur-hemmed cape with him over his usual black leathers, to keep him warm at high elevations. It had also concealed his weapon without meaning to.
Seeing his cane, the humans relaxed even further.
"These are Minne's countrymen," Goda explained as he gestured for Thuviel to come closer. "They're Giddo. I've been telling them about the state of Panahedan and showing them some spirits their sorcerers can call on from the book of good spirits."
Thuviel was shown the pages the book was open to, which depicted the rituals for summoning two spirits: Fish Maker, and Fire Bird.
The Fish Maker was a spirit who would cause fish to spawn even if it wasn't the right time of year or the right place, then cause those fish to grow to adulthood in seconds. But the Fish Maker would only do this for fish that had been born after the eggs they grew from passed through a bird's digestive tract unaided.
And the Fire Bird was an illusory spirit. It would create a crane-like bird lit as if on-fire but provided no warmth, only light. Anyone except the initial summoner who disturbed the illusory birds would be afflicted with a short-lived hex of poor fortune. The trick to that spirit was that the spirit which created the illusions had to be fed from a trough of alcohol-soaked grains constantly, or it and its illusions would leave.
Before Goda could flip the page to the next set of two spirits, Thuviel stopped him. "Um. I have… Rider business I need to talk to you about." He glanced around at the humans all around them. They seemed unafraid of the dog-like human and elf, but how long would that be when they heard what Thuviel had to say? "Perhaps we should… go somewhere?"
Goda thinned his mouth and jerked his head away from the city. "Nobody try lifting the book, you'll hurt your back and I will shame you before I heal you!"
The two of them wandered off, away from the humans. In mere seconds, there was a pained cry from among the crowd that Goda flicked one ear back to catch.
"It's always the politicians," he muttered, then turned to look at Thuviel. "Right. So far I've empowered Hrothgar to convince Dûrgrimst Moldûn that they have to properly purchase Ilirea from the elven monarchy to get the queen to shut the fuck up for once in her meaningless life."
Thuviel arched an eyebrow at him. "You know they're probably scrying us, yeah?"
"I hope so. It'll be a test to see if they can be objective or if they want to suckle from the queen more than they want to actually keep the peace." Goda flicked his ears back, eyes narrowed, he was upset. "Did you know why people have settled here? Because Dûrgrimst Moldûn chased some lethrblaka from Feldarast to here, and found a nest of ra'zac in the ruins. The Giddo told them what they were, and now the clan is dissecting the eggs to figure out more about them. Pissing off the elves is just a bonus."
Thuviel's mouth thinned as he found the position distressingly reasonable. However…. "Be that as it may… I've been asked to pass on official discommendation to you." He pulled a scroll from a pocket on the inside of his cape and passed it along. "You're barred from taking students or breeding your dragon for twenty-five years."
Goda opened and read the scroll which laid out the unimportant, ceremonial aspects of discommendation. Stuff like not being allowed to attend feasts, be assigned diplomatic work, or have his deeds be worthy of public works. But eventually the dog-man's eyes stopped going down the scroll and lowered it to look at Thuviel.
"You know what? To the flaming pits of Tarkna with the Elders and Vroengard. {Fire.}" Goda destroyed the scroll with a word in the ancient language, and cleaned his gloves of the soot. "I'm going to stay here. Make my homestead here in Ilirea until they rescind this or it expires. Whichever comes first."
Thuviel nodded, he'd somewhat expected his friend to take that stance. "Shall we go shame that politician and fix their back?"
"Since this is their fourth time trying and failing to steal the book of good spirits, I'd advise pointing and laughing configuration eight, yes."
--
Glossary
Ilirea: Once the furthest southern bastion of the elves of Du Weldenvarden. Formerly, it was the official castle and dwelling for the royal family of the elven nation, far from the capital city. It is speculated, but not confirmed, that the elves built Ilirea as a way to keep those of the royal bloodline very far from the throne away from politics for the realm's stability.
The book of good spirits: A tome with pages of solid gold, documenting the rituals, true names, and natures of several benevolent spirits, unique to Amusel culture.
Dûrgrimst Moldûn: Named for a mountain that exists near the clan's seat of power, Feldarast. Known for weaving, amethysts, and the veils they use to obscure their faces in public. Has undergone a name change by the time of Eragon.
---
Life has been busy. I've been pulling extra hours at work, one of my cats is nearing the end of her life it seems. Why can't UBI be a thing, and I just write fanfics for y'all all day er'ryday?
---
Shiroderu
Two years on the wing, out in the wild. They were of mixed minds as they approached Doru Araeba. Shiro worried that there would be no safe way to document their adventures without risking The Plan. Deru worried that Goda's changes or Aya and Morito's leaving would prompt an inquiry.
They already risked it by having left their eggs with their friends in the Frozen Desert.
Goda was still unhappy with them. He had been so since they disgorged their hearts to remain in long-distance real-time communication. Like an irate mother, he'd scolded the two of them but it quickly devolved into a tirade on how much he was happy that they trusted him.
They approached Bid'Daum Plaza for landing, only to be flanked by other dragons as they neared landing.
'The Elder Council would like to see you post haste,' was transmitted to them from the black dragon on their port side. 'Please break off landing, and come to the Council building.'
They conferred with their Rider. Weighed the cost of defiance versus the risks to The Plan if an Elder touched their friend's hearts.
'We have a guest who is not a Rider,' Shiro sent back to the black dragon. 'We must land so they may depart without being privy to Rider affairs.'
The flanking dragons were silent for a moment, then widened their distance from Shiroderu.
'You may land, then. Please return to the air after they have disembarked.'
Goda and Shiroderu chaffed under authority they didn't respect. The Elders were keen to demand respect, though only Vrael and Anurin seemed ready to earn it. Annúminas was an exception, he never demanded nor asked for any respect – as his period of mourning wasn't concluded.
In moments, Shiroderu felt sand between their claws as they landed and crouched down for Hrothgar to leave.
The plaza in springtime was beautiful. Trees had been planted along the perimeter of the inner and outer rings – too young to flower or bear fruit, but there was time. New scents of spices, songs they hadn't heard before came to them as the wind shifted.
As Goda helped Hrothgar down, Shiroderu scanned the perimeter to see if any familiar faces were around. No such luck, though the two sisters came to differing conclusions.
'Those trees, if they are fruiting trees, will provide free food in the growing season. A measure against poverty,' Deru observed.
'Once grown they will block any view of the inner ring and Bid'Daum's statue from the outer ring altogether. A measure to keep so-called undesirables from enjoying the full plaza,' Shiro replied, waspish.
'What has you in a mood?'
'I hate having to bite my tongue for these Elders.'
'Would you like me to do the talking for us, if talking needs doing? You can tell me all the mean things you want to say, and not bite your tongue at all.'
'That would be for the best. I might just remind the Elders of their failings.'
And oh! How they hated to be reminded of their failings.
Shiroderu gave Hrothgar warm goodbyes, as did Goda. They suspected, but didn't know, that Hrothgar knew they had been summoned by the Elders because Goda wasn't as affectionate as normal. As two years had slipped by, Goda hadn't been shy about his negative opinions of them.
Shortly, they were in the air again. Their body ached from the long flight, but they didn't complain. They threaded their thoughts amongst Goda's, twisted and inter-locked to a deathly sharp point. Goda's attack barrier slipped over their minds like a winter coat.
The messengers guided them to a structure much like an amphitheater, many rows of seating that reached down to a dais where speakers could stand and be heard – all sized appropriately for dragons, mind.
Enormous trees, dozens of meters tall, stood around the perimeter; their boughs were heavy with new growth. In the wintertime, the trees would be sung to so that their trunks would twist and curve, to form barriers from wind and snow.
On the rows of seats, separated by elf-sized stairs, the Elders sat. Most didn't turn as Shiroderu and their Rider entered. The few that did made their displeasure known – scowls, curled lips, furrowed brows.
Among them was Anurin, and Cassandra, both near the bottom of the amphitheater. Whatever business they had interrupted with their arrival was long gone, for the chamber was silent as Shiroderu and their Rider approached. Covered erisdars cast light downward, somewhat necessary due to the shadows cast by the exterior trees. Their teachers were lit brightly from above, while most other Elders were lit from the sides or below.
Goda did not move to leave Shiroderu's saddle until they arrived at the dais. Then, when he hopped off, he bowed to their teacher. Shiroderu followed him in that gesture.
{"We have been summoned, so we appear."} Goda's tone was unenthusiastic, but still respectful. From his bond with them, they could feel his annoyance as it echoed off of Shiro's annoyance and the two feelings began to harmonize.
Deru quickly began to flood her sister and Rider with more positive emotions, lest that double-annoyance get them in trouble.
{"Welcome back from the wider world, did you see anything interesting?"} Anurin asked, playful in her tone. {"Any odd fungi or spectacular wonders?"}
{"Not so much. I found out there's an upper limit on how many corpses decomposers can handle at once, though."}
Vrael, among the scattered Elders, cleared his throat.
Anurin and Goda both glanced in his direction, then said nothing he would care to hear.
{"I did find some historical artifacts from the ruins on Panahedan, really looking forward to making copies and having them put into a museum. Have you poor elves discovered how to make museums yet?"}
{"As a matter of fact, we have! It took us a bit longer than others to realize the value in preserving history, but we got there eventually!"}
Deru noted how Vrael's eyelid had started to twitch, and many Elders began to grow upset. 'Please get to the point, so we can leave?' She asked her Rider, pleading.
Goda sighed. {"I'm always so happy seeing you elves discover culture. Warms my heart."} Goda made a show of placing his hand over his chest and grinning – to bare his fangs where the Elders could see, most likely. When he spoke again, he was much more professional. {"So then, what is so important that you break tradition to see me so soon?"}
The tradition was that Riders, on return from their map-expansion tours, would speak to the order's cartographer to formally add their maps onto older maps. Then the Elders would summon them to answer questions about what they had seen there.
Anurin gestured to the room and its occupants. {"Well. Shortly after you flew off, a situation came up they wanted you to handle for them. I didn't want to bother you on your tour, so they're a bit pent up about the whole thing."}
Shiroderu moved so that Goda was in front of them, between their heads, and laid down. Goda, similarly, sat crisscross-applesauce with his cane across his knees before them.
{"Well then. How can we help?"}
--
Hrothgar
Scarcely a day back in Doru Araeba, and Hrothgar found himself a little depressed to not have Goda and Shiroderu with him at all times. He'd grown accustomed to them being a turn of the head away always, and it made him look a fool in the workshop when he'd tried to show the absent human-wolf creature and dragon something his kin had made while they were gone.
Which made him all the more excited when he felt the brush of familiar thoughts on his mind.
'I know we've only just arrived, but I have a true Rider mission which requires knurla assistance,' Goda thought to him, words spoken with a nation's whispered voices. 'Want to go to Ilirea?'
As Goda explained it to him, he explained to Old Yngol, to allow another departure from the workshop.
"Humans have settled in the old elf city, along with knurla from Dûrgrimst Moldûn. The elves say they haven't abandoned the settlement yet, so they're trespassing."
As soon as Hrothgar finished explaining, Yngol stood up from his work stool, went to a far table to grab his glasses, returned to his work stool, and put his glasses on. He promptly took them off and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. "They've been there for years at this point."
"Yep," Hrothgar agreed.
"And they want to send a human to sort this out?"
"Because Goda is a respected figure among the humans, they want to seem like they're approaching this in good faith."
Yngol softly counted backward from ten, then looked up at Hrothgar. "Alright – and why does he want you to go with him?"
"Because he suspects that the humans are being manipulated by Dûrgrimst Moldûn but isn't sure, and wants me to make sure he isn't being prejudicial."
Because Goda had promised something called a 'veto', which amounted to 'stop that, right now', Yngol allowed Hrothgar to go so soon after having come back. Hrothgar hadn't even had time to tell them about the floating crystal, or how humans had the same gods as them.
So they made their way to Ilirea. Slowly. Neither Goda or Shiroderu much appreciated being given the task to solve the problem so soon after their return, when they hadn't even a chance to rest.
Ilirea was deep inland, at the heart of the Inzilbêth province of the old elven kingdom. Inzilbêth stretched from the woods that surrounded Lake Tüdosten, to the edge of Du Weldenvarden, and comprised the lands between those two points.
The city was a ruin, built atop and below an overhang of rock. Its white walls cracked and overgrown with ivy. Tall, spindly spires of stone and glass filled the city, too delicate to please a knurla's sensibilities. Atop the overhang was the palace, Castle Ilirea, a miniature walled city in its own right, with six towers covered in thousands of emeralds embedded in the stone.
Pretty, but not someplace that Hrothgar would expect knurla to feel comfortable.
Shiroderu landed on the cracked road that led to the ivy-laden gates of the city. They were ponderously huge, carved with elven figures that acted out a scene from their history.
"Now we wait," Goda said and ran his hand through the ropes of fur he'd transformed his hair into.
"For them to realize we're here?" Hrothgar followed up as he moved sit down next to Goda's seat.
"With that rock over their heads, I don't think they saw us fly in. Call it a suspicion of mine." They were silent for a couple moments before Goda's ear flicked. "Someone just got zapped on my attack barrier."
"What's that like?"
"I overload their mind so they can only think of one thing, that I dictate. Usually something harmless but annoying." Goda crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "...Yep, they're in Lamchop's song."
Hrothgar knew, in his heart muscles, that he shouldn't ask what that was. It took all his willpower to keep his mouth shut.
Similarly, it seemed to take the entire settlement's willpower to open the gates from how long they waited. When the gates opened, there were humans there – but not armed. Hrothgar looked at them from Shiroderu's back and saw not a single weapon in human hands.
The weapons all belonged to knurla, stood in a ring ready to fight the mighty dragon.
'Their gear is not meant for this task,' Shiro observed.
'Those crossbows won't even glance our scales, and they don't have any pikes,' Deru added on.
'All this to say, they didn't do this for military reasons.' Was Goda's summation. Once the gates were opened, he spoke. "I am Goda Nyberg, Argetlam. I understand there is a dispute here, and would like to request permission to arbitrate it."
From amongst the crowd, a knurla in the violet robes of Dûrgrimst Moldûn, with a conical hat and a silk veil that covered their face. "We deny your request, Argetlam!" The knurla, a woman shouted. She pointed at him, her arm heavy with amethyst jewelry. "The elves abandoned this city before your King tried to take it. No elf monarch has so much as set foot here for two hundred years! Dûrgrimst Moldûn lays claim to this city, these are dwarf lands! You have no authority here!"
All was silent as the warriors readied their weapons, as Shiroderu rose up to her full height and flared her wings.
It only occurred to Hrothgar after a moment that, perhaps no one could see Goda clearly, or thought he was dressed in a costume to appear so inhuman and not address it.
"...Very well." Goda responded to the woman's declaration. "Then I would like to request arbitration by Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, one of whom I happen to have here." He nudged Hrothgar to stand. "Is that acceptable?"
The woman was silent for a moment as she watched Hrothgar stand to be as tall as Goda kneeling down. Slowly, her hooded and veiled head nodded. "It is. The Ingeitum are honorable. We would accept their arbitration." She pointed dramatically again. "But you and your dragon will remain outside our walls until the curse you've afflicted our kinsman with is lifted!"
Hrothgar felt tightness in his stomach. He was going to have to negotiate with one of the most mean-spirited and vengeful clans, and the elves. Not a favorable situation.
'If you need anything from us, we will be there when you call,' Goda thought at him. With a dramatic flair, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. "Curse lifted."
--
Thuviel
To use a phrase of Goda's, he wasn't a happy camper. Thuviel hadn't been given an opportunity to even see Goda before the Elders sent him off. He'd wanted to see the wolfy changes his best friend had undergone with his own eyes! Scrying didn't work on him because Goda had changed so much apparently.
And, a week later, Thuviel was made into a messenger to convey official discommendation from the Elders to Goda about how he'd handled the Ilirea situation.
Kjöti had ferried him off Vroengard for the first time in nearly a decade, and it was to deliver censure. Ugh!
'They're upset, we were just convenient messengers.' Kjöti tried to soothe his Rider's agitation as they neared the wide plains of Inzilbêth.
Farther south, so far that the curvature of the planet blocked their ability to see it, was the forests of home, on the shores of Lake Tüdosten. It wouldn't be a terribly long time to go and see his family. But he was only allowed to fly unescorted to Ilirea. Once there, it would be Goda's decision if Thuviel could go south.
Being the unaccredited Rider in the friend group sucked.
'They're going to be mad at me too if I can't make Goda feel bad for the discommendation, which I won't be able to do because he doesn't respect their reasons for the mission in the first place.' Thuviel responded, grumpy. 'They've got to be scrying us this whole time to make sure we do it right.'
'Probably. But as Anurin has shown – there's not much anyone can do to convince them not to be mad when they've set their hearts on being upset.' In some ways, the Elders were like children. With authority.
Thuviel imagined it was the prolonged periods of time without accountability. They answered to no one but other Elders, and there was no being ejected from the Council once on it. Once a person became an Elder, they were free to behave in whatever way they wished, and there were no repercussions.
As they approached Ilirea, they saw Shiroderu outside the city walls. Their spice-brown scales stood out against the white stone even with ivy growing upon it. The two-headed dragon was laid down, with humans around them – mostly children.
Older humans were gathered around a point not far away. Between the dragon's laying place, and the city gates.
Thuviel had never seen Ilirea's gates in person, only drawings of their carvings. The story they told was of how the elves sang an underground river to the surface and it became the Ramr river just north of the city.
He found it odd that the royal family had made their city's gates so large that Riders on dragonback could make out the details, but Ilirea was of a different time. When the royal family was so large that a city just for their use was required.
Kjöti soon landed on the road to the gates, and then Thuviel could see what drew the elder human's responses. A human-like creature that had features not unlike a wolf. A pelt of fur across their skin in two shades of brown, thick ropes of fur that resembled hair in a complex interconnected braid. Black lips and a black wolf's nose at the end of a human-like nasal bridge.
Dressed in familiar dark clothes, and carrying a familiar cane.
Goda!
For a moment he could forget the bad news he had to bring. Thuviel unbuckled his legs from the saddle Kjöti wore, and jumped from his shoulders as they drew near. "Goda!" He called out, happy as a flower at dawn to see his old friend.
Kjöti let out a rumbling laugh as he calmly walked around the humans and Riders, to lay down beside Shiroderu. The children quickly began to climb on him too.
Goda stood beside a podium where a book with gold pages was set, and stood aside to allow Thuviel to approach him. His canine-like ears swept forward to give the elf his full attention. "Thuviel, what're you doing here?" He looked around at the confused humans, and gestured to the cane he carried, and Thuviel. "Leaner," he said as an explanation.
The humans had been tense without Thuviel directly realizing why, then relaxed when Goda explained. Thuviel reached for his belt and unbuckled his own monstertötungs cane, so the humans could see it.
He had a fur-hemmed cape with him over his usual black leathers, to keep him warm at high elevations. It had also concealed his weapon without meaning to.
Seeing his cane, the humans relaxed even further.
"These are Minne's countrymen," Goda explained as he gestured for Thuviel to come closer. "They're Giddo. I've been telling them about the state of Panahedan and showing them some spirits their sorcerers can call on from the book of good spirits."
Thuviel was shown the pages the book was open to, which depicted the rituals for summoning two spirits: Fish Maker, and Fire Bird.
The Fish Maker was a spirit who would cause fish to spawn even if it wasn't the right time of year or the right place, then cause those fish to grow to adulthood in seconds. But the Fish Maker would only do this for fish that had been born after the eggs they grew from passed through a bird's digestive tract unaided.
And the Fire Bird was an illusory spirit. It would create a crane-like bird lit as if on-fire but provided no warmth, only light. Anyone except the initial summoner who disturbed the illusory birds would be afflicted with a short-lived hex of poor fortune. The trick to that spirit was that the spirit which created the illusions had to be fed from a trough of alcohol-soaked grains constantly, or it and its illusions would leave.
Before Goda could flip the page to the next set of two spirits, Thuviel stopped him. "Um. I have… Rider business I need to talk to you about." He glanced around at the humans all around them. They seemed unafraid of the dog-like human and elf, but how long would that be when they heard what Thuviel had to say? "Perhaps we should… go somewhere?"
Goda thinned his mouth and jerked his head away from the city. "Nobody try lifting the book, you'll hurt your back and I will shame you before I heal you!"
The two of them wandered off, away from the humans. In mere seconds, there was a pained cry from among the crowd that Goda flicked one ear back to catch.
"It's always the politicians," he muttered, then turned to look at Thuviel. "Right. So far I've empowered Hrothgar to convince Dûrgrimst Moldûn that they have to properly purchase Ilirea from the elven monarchy to get the queen to shut the fuck up for once in her meaningless life."
Thuviel arched an eyebrow at him. "You know they're probably scrying us, yeah?"
"I hope so. It'll be a test to see if they can be objective or if they want to suckle from the queen more than they want to actually keep the peace." Goda flicked his ears back, eyes narrowed, he was upset. "Did you know why people have settled here? Because Dûrgrimst Moldûn chased some lethrblaka from Feldarast to here, and found a nest of ra'zac in the ruins. The Giddo told them what they were, and now the clan is dissecting the eggs to figure out more about them. Pissing off the elves is just a bonus."
Thuviel's mouth thinned as he found the position distressingly reasonable. However…. "Be that as it may… I've been asked to pass on official discommendation to you." He pulled a scroll from a pocket on the inside of his cape and passed it along. "You're barred from taking students or breeding your dragon for twenty-five years."
Goda opened and read the scroll which laid out the unimportant, ceremonial aspects of discommendation. Stuff like not being allowed to attend feasts, be assigned diplomatic work, or have his deeds be worthy of public works. But eventually the dog-man's eyes stopped going down the scroll and lowered it to look at Thuviel.
"You know what? To the flaming pits of Tarkna with the Elders and Vroengard. {Fire.}" Goda destroyed the scroll with a word in the ancient language, and cleaned his gloves of the soot. "I'm going to stay here. Make my homestead here in Ilirea until they rescind this or it expires. Whichever comes first."
Thuviel nodded, he'd somewhat expected his friend to take that stance. "Shall we go shame that politician and fix their back?"
"Since this is their fourth time trying and failing to steal the book of good spirits, I'd advise pointing and laughing configuration eight, yes."
--
Glossary
Ilirea: Once the furthest southern bastion of the elves of Du Weldenvarden. Formerly, it was the official castle and dwelling for the royal family of the elven nation, far from the capital city. It is speculated, but not confirmed, that the elves built Ilirea as a way to keep those of the royal bloodline very far from the throne away from politics for the realm's stability.
The book of good spirits: A tome with pages of solid gold, documenting the rituals, true names, and natures of several benevolent spirits, unique to Amusel culture.
Dûrgrimst Moldûn: Named for a mountain that exists near the clan's seat of power, Feldarast. Known for weaving, amethysts, and the veils they use to obscure their faces in public. Has undergone a name change by the time of Eragon.
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Life has been busy. I've been pulling extra hours at work, one of my cats is nearing the end of her life it seems. Why can't UBI be a thing, and I just write fanfics for y'all all day er'ryday?
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Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
I'm guessing one is the classic Nelson laugh but once you reach eight we get into Team Fortress 2 levels of "you fucking donkey."
Mizu
Software Developer
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
Alas no government has been willing to try it out long-term yet.
Guess Goda got a scolding from the Rider organisation. What caused that, you think? The secret magic for swords being shared?
Evaunit02mark1
S-s-smell the Prey, S-s-start the Hunt.
I think it was more that he wasn't willing to get down on his knees and suck off the elven queen on demand.
Ya see he has this disturbing habit of asking "why" when he gets and order and actually expecting explanations beyond "because we said so."
Goda's Journal #13
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Goda's Journal -- Entry 13
---
Translated from braille.
--
Discommendation, not for leaking secret words of the ancient language or for hiding eggs. No no, I got a discommendation for admitting that the Riders didn't have the authority to evict anyone from Ilirea.
The elven nation isn't allowing us to police their territory or arbitrate their disputes, the dwarven nation never has. And the humans don't have one single nation for the Riders to discuss that with. Right now? The Riders only have the legal right to police and arbitrate matters of law for the Broddring kingdom, Vroengard, Palancar Valley, and the elven settlements around Lake Tüdosten.
To quote Vrael, our power comes from the perception of our power. Our authority comes from the perception of our authority. If you act like you have power, if you have authority, then the people will consent to you exercising it upon them. But it only works if they are ignorant of context that says otherwise.
In short, they wanted me here so I could convince the Giddo that the Riders have the authority to police them and impose laws upon them. The dwarven element was totally unimportant, I could have killed them if I wished. But by announcing to the Giddo that there are limits on Rider authority, I have basically ruined the Order's attempts to gain the right to police all humans by common law.
Because the Giddo here will talk, they'll tell others what happened and that I clearly defined where Rider authority ends. The Surdoni and Proda will know soon too. The Amusel are too few for it to matter, and the Broddrings are already a client state.
I understand where the Council is coming from, even if I find achieving that end by deceitful ways to be nauseating. I've forced them to put in the effort to earn the right to police the Giddo, Surdoni, and Proda.
I've also forced them to try and enter a bidding war with the elven monarchy against Dûrgrimst Moldûn for Ilirea, rather than let them swoop in after elf law ruled the city officially abandoned.
It might no longer be worth the effort to try and salvage this organization. I'll talk to the gang, and we'll decide if we try to salvage individual Rider/Dragon pairs or just make do with eggs and wild dragons.
On the plus side, I think my discommendation is enough of a black mark on Anurin's record to push her over the edge, get her voted out of office and let her be free of the weight around her neck that is the Elder Council. Titles are pretty, but to some people they're also fetters.
A short entry today, but I'm super hungry and there's a merchant who has fresh rabbit stew for sale. Hunger beats out documentation.
Ciao.
---
---
Translated from braille.
--
Discommendation, not for leaking secret words of the ancient language or for hiding eggs. No no, I got a discommendation for admitting that the Riders didn't have the authority to evict anyone from Ilirea.
The elven nation isn't allowing us to police their territory or arbitrate their disputes, the dwarven nation never has. And the humans don't have one single nation for the Riders to discuss that with. Right now? The Riders only have the legal right to police and arbitrate matters of law for the Broddring kingdom, Vroengard, Palancar Valley, and the elven settlements around Lake Tüdosten.
To quote Vrael, our power comes from the perception of our power. Our authority comes from the perception of our authority. If you act like you have power, if you have authority, then the people will consent to you exercising it upon them. But it only works if they are ignorant of context that says otherwise.
In short, they wanted me here so I could convince the Giddo that the Riders have the authority to police them and impose laws upon them. The dwarven element was totally unimportant, I could have killed them if I wished. But by announcing to the Giddo that there are limits on Rider authority, I have basically ruined the Order's attempts to gain the right to police all humans by common law.
Because the Giddo here will talk, they'll tell others what happened and that I clearly defined where Rider authority ends. The Surdoni and Proda will know soon too. The Amusel are too few for it to matter, and the Broddrings are already a client state.
I understand where the Council is coming from, even if I find achieving that end by deceitful ways to be nauseating. I've forced them to put in the effort to earn the right to police the Giddo, Surdoni, and Proda.
I've also forced them to try and enter a bidding war with the elven monarchy against Dûrgrimst Moldûn for Ilirea, rather than let them swoop in after elf law ruled the city officially abandoned.
It might no longer be worth the effort to try and salvage this organization. I'll talk to the gang, and we'll decide if we try to salvage individual Rider/Dragon pairs or just make do with eggs and wild dragons.
On the plus side, I think my discommendation is enough of a black mark on Anurin's record to push her over the edge, get her voted out of office and let her be free of the weight around her neck that is the Elder Council. Titles are pretty, but to some people they're also fetters.
A short entry today, but I'm super hungry and there's a merchant who has fresh rabbit stew for sale. Hunger beats out documentation.
Ciao.
---
- Pronouns
- he/him/his
Ah. So the discommendation was for having the integrity to tell the Giddo the truth of the situation. And this upset the peacekeeping organization whose official language is the one it is impossible to outright lie in.
Pride and politics.
Pride and politics.
With a hefty helping of Prejudice
Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
at least there are no zombies.