Proclamation

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

"Were you serious about making sure all the light Vle are let go?" Mecora asked in the morning.
"Well, yes. I thought we ought to go to the palace and ask to see the King."
"And just how do you expect to get past the palace guards? They'll arrest you on sight!"
"I know. I haven't figured out that part yet. But I want to get going, and think it over on the way."
"Would you like me to take the road again?"
"Sure. Maybe you'll meet someone friendly to our cause."
So, once again, their traveling pattern was resumed, and they headed back to Dronac. The sky, what they could see of it, was very, very dark, affording little light for the journey, but they pressed on anyway. There was almost no way of telling how long they'd been going when they passed a large group of dark Vle headed the other direction. The ones on foot had their heads down, all but one.
Hyran?!
Mecora didn't believe it was possible, but then neither was the whole situation. A small troop of mounted Vle followed the group, as if said group was light. The sight put Mecora into a spiral of wondering: Just what was going on in this Kingdom?!
On they walked, and the darkness continued. Mecora felt as though she ought to be hurrying more, but she just didn't feel energetic enough. Maybe it was because she had skipped breakfast. More of the same fruits when the Vle in the camp were possibly enjoying real food hadn't been very appealing.
Finally, night fell, and they rested for the night.

The morning came fast, and they went directly toward the palace, going around to the north of the city of Dronac. And that was the end of the road, as it were, for the tree-bound Spreak. They still had not come up with a good plan, other than to just openly walk up to the palace gates and ask to enter, hoping against hope that they would be allowed in just on the strength of their story.
They were virtually alone as they walked the path across the meadow, up the hill to where the palace sat. Only one other figure was on that path, a rather regal figure about fifty yards behind them.
The guards were well trained, not even blinking at their arrival. "Today is not grievances day. Grievances of the public are heard only on fifthday."
"Please, we have to speak to the King! He'll want to hear our story, I know he will."
"You will have to return on fifthday, ma'am. In the meantime, your light friend—" did Mecora hear a sneer in the way he said that? "...will go with the guards standing behind you."
But then the other traveler made his presence known. "No, he shall not. By right of the clergy I ask entry to the palace of all who stand here in application. I am Grinden, The Representative of the Great Redeemer."

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

Tuesday, September 8, 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