Proclamation

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Gardric did actually appear late the next day. From the royal chamber window, Taréz watched him climb out of his carriage, and walk proudly to the palace, a smirk on his face. Was that pride for what he had accomplished? Taréz hoped so— Gardric had enough listeners to know if something against him was afoot, and ending the war by decree like this would not be agreeable to him.
The three Vle met in the grand hall. Taréz thought about being the first to speak, but decided to see just what his father would do. This, after all, would be the argument to end all arguments between them.
Gardric was first. "I have great success to report, Your Majesties," he announced. "Do you call for an accounting of them?"
"No, I call for an explanation of your tactics. I have heard some very interesting reports."
"Oh, Sire, my tactics are much too numerous to enumerate here. Shall we—"
"No, we shall not. I'm only concerned about one tactic in particular. Something about stealing the energy of the enemy?"
Gardric chuckled. "Ah, the exultations of the victor, the excuses of the loser. Our troops are so skilled, it may well seem that way. We can fight all day without losing spirit, because we are defending our homeland!"
"Don't lie to me Gardric. I know you've been using mages to do the energy stealing."
"Fabrications of the enemy! Undoubtedly they wish to undermine my trustworthiness."
It was finally Taréz's turn. "By planting said mages in your cellar? And one in the command tent at every battlefield? I highly doubt it. Tsk, tsk, Gardric, lying to your liege lord. You taught me better than that."
For a fleeting moment, Gardric appeared as frantic as the cornered rat. Then, as any animal would, he struck back, head held proudly. "I did it for Larmania, Your Majesties! Century after century, those light Vle have been draining our resources to our enemies, and it was time to bring it to an end! My line has been waiting for the time to strike back, and the time has come! I thought I had made you see that, King Lajot! But now I see you're too weak to do anything about it. Weak as a lightie! You must not rule anymore!" With that, he unsheathed his sword.
But Taréz jumped between them, his own sword raised and ready. "Weak, my foot! Wiser than you, I'd say! My only regret is that we allowed your line's prejudice to last so long. I hereby remove you as Chief of the Army."
"Hah! You can't! I'm your superior officer!"
"I can, and I do. Guards, arrest this Vle!"
This time, the guards obeyed, infuriating Gardric. "Fools! What do you think will happen without me to win the war? What to you think will happen to Larmania? You need me to lead us to victory."
"Not your way anymore, Gardric. We have sent alms of peace to our neighbors. The fighting will stop."
"You're insane! Insane! Insane!" the former chief screamed repeatedly as he was dragged to the dungeon.

Kezantopil

It was really a very beautiful city, with many, many structures treesculpted over the many centuries since the Great Master came. Clearly, a majority had been constructed a thousand years later, during the height of the Light Vle Empire. Their architecture was distinctive, being very geometric despite the resistance of life to such precise forms. There were corners, points, and edges throughout.

Later construction included the use of color, a development that came roughly two hundred years after the Empire disintegrated. Of course, the color had to a large extent disintegrated, too, so one could only guess at the former brilliance of the green, yellow and pink hues. They seemed very pale to more recent blues, purples, and reds, all done in graceful curves.

And, finally, the most modern places were natural colors once more, influenced by the rural churches that couldn’t afford coloring. The forms, however, were thicker again.

Not a single structure there was without some church-related purpose. From the stables to the lodging houses, all had at the very least a chapel within, and the work done was for the church’s guests and resident priests.

The Proclamation

The sound of the horse approaching on the ancient road (long ago constructed by the light Vle when they ruled here) alerted the town to the messenger’s imminent arrival. All work stopped, and someone put a wagon in the center of the plaza. The rider came up the lift, and stood officiously on the wagon.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” he cried as he took out the scroll. “Our Lord and Sovereign, King Lajot the Twenty-fourth, has hereby declared the following:”
Finally, he unrolled the scroll, to preserve officiousness. “From this day forth, all those who account themselves Light Vle, to wit those who trace their ancestry to inhabitants of the land of Kamilea, are to reside in a camp, which shall be called Light Vle Camp. It shall be located ten miles west of His Majesty’s royal city, Dronac. All Light Vle in this village are to leave for that camp immediately; an army patrol will come in two days to aid in the process. Take only what you can carry. His Majesty expects his good loyal subjects to aid and not hinder this movement. All Light Vle who attempt to remain behind shall be accounted debtors under common law and dealt with by local councils in such manner. So ends the word of our great and wise ruler, King Lajot the Twenty-fourth.”
Amid mumblings of surprise, he climbed down from the wagon, and returned to his horse; up in town, a few elders stepped away from the crowd and began to organize a sending-off festival.

The dream

The garden was at the very edge of the forest, about forty feet above the ground, to get the most sun. All sorts of fruits and vegetables grew there, blessed by the spirit of the Dog Star [...of the Great Master! called a faint voice...]. The sun, which gave its light and heat to all living beings, hung just above the trees across the meadow, swathed in a growing shadow. Ruteby [Hyran!] raised his arms to the sun, his mother and siblings doing the same, and he felt an incredible harmony with everything...
[Harmony...] Now he was at the house, looking at the same garden, now dead. Nothing grew there, and the soil in the basin was red. He had only been gone for a few years, having left to find work in a nearby village. And now there was no sign of the family...
That did not mean violence had occurred here, almost certainly not by other elves. The trees were safer than the ground, but snakes lived in the trees, and other animals...
[The Great Master has plans for you....] as he discovered soon after. A few missionaries stopped by, and found him wanting in many things. It is difficult enough to support a family alone in the forest, but at least the family can help. Here, he was struggling to provide himself with enough, since the garden could not produce. When the missionaries of the Great Master came and brought him Salvation, he took it and their generosity as a sign....
The days soon after he had chosen to dedicate his life to the Great Master were heady times. Was he ready? [Trust...] Would he be worthy? [Trust...] Could he truly stay within the confines of the vows? [Trust...] Would the days of mentorship ever end? [Trust...] And indeed, Brother Allega had come along and shown him the humor in life and behind the confines of religion, found when you could [Trust]! But would he ever see his mother or siblings again? [.......]
The garden quickly became his favorite place, however protective Gouan was of it. Many times Hyran would sit amongst the citrus trees, breathing their wonderful aroma, or he’d walk through the plot of wheat, or he’d lie on the thick tangle of roots and berry vines that ran from one garden pot to the other. Invariably, the old gardener would find him eventually, and shoo him off. “Nature’s not to be enjoyed!” he’d say. “It’s here for us to control. If you’d do more of your studies instead of playing hooky here in my garden, you’d know that!” At least once, he’d find a bee or a blue-spotted redbeetle and squish it for emphasis.
[I have nothing to do with nature, only people...] Hyran once asked, “Is that why you’re here, then, to try to control your part of nature?”
“No, I’m here ‘cause someone’s gotta grow the food. Might as well be me.” [He was ‘volunteered’ for the job...]
The dreams of the past ended there and moved into the random ramblings of unconsciousness.

Proclamation

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Kezantopil

The Proclamation

The dream

Mimbaya tubes

Azhe

The view from the window

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Chamberlain Yis

The Chief of the Army