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Footsteps and shouts merge together in the halls of the capital’s palace. “The king is gone! His wyvern isn’t in the stables! How could he have left? Where is he? Was he unfit to rule? What could be so important as to abandon his people?”
Two small servants watch the chaos from the shadows, in a cranny large enough for only them. It was the king who had revealed it to them. “If someone tries to hurt you, run into here and you’ll come out in another part of the palace. There might be more if you look hard enough,” He had told them.
“Where’s he gone?” One of them asked the other, huddled together like mice.
The braided one hummed, “Maybe the maus’leum,”
“Yeah,” The former looked out into the fray. They were running around like headless chickens, just like the king had said would happen. “This is boring. ‘M going to the kitchens,”
“Okay. See if y’can nab me something, too,”
SCOUT’S REPORT
26th of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1191
Just shy of sunrise a wyvern flew in. It had a rider and I tried to signal to them to land for inspection. After receiving no response, I shot a flame arrow into the sky as a warning that they were approaching the border. The wyvern flew back up into the clouds. The wyvern was very large, likely young, white-scaled and had many travel bags attached to it. The rider wore a cloak which obscured their appearance. They were flying eastward in the direction of the Alliance.
“Put the vegetables to the side and chop the potatoes,” Raphael mumbled to himself. The pot of water on the stove was pre-boiling, giving the room a pleasant warmth. His sister had cut herself quite badly while chopping through some meat of questionable origin, so he had volunteered himself for taking care of the inn’s food.
“Should I cut them into cubes or leave them as circles? Maybe mash them..? Yeah, then the spices sent over would mix right in. Where’d I put ‘em, though...”
“Raphael!” He heard his name being called from outside. In the time it took for him to look up Leonie had burst through the door, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him outside. No time to tell her to take her shoes off before coming into the kitchen! Maya’s gonna have a thing or two to say about that.
In the light warmth of the morning sun, Leonie points upward. “Look, Raphael, in the clouds! No, no, not there, here-” Leonie yanked Raphael down to the ground so she could line his eyes up with her own. From there she directed his gaze along her arm and up to her pointing finger. His golden eyes squinted against the sheer white of the clouds. Then-
“Is that-”
“A wyvern! A white one! Isn’t that Claude’s?”
“Oh yeah! Yeah, it is,” Raphael nodded, following the just-visible wyvern, “The one he rode during the war,”
Leonie let go of him, stepping back, “You don’t think, I mean… since that’s his war wyvern,”
Raphael turned to his friend. Her lips were pursed with worry, “Psh, nah! I doubt he’d start a war with just himself. I mean, Claude’s strong and all, but not strong enough to take on an entire continent! He’d need me for that,” He nudged her shoulder, “He’s probably visiting Hilda! The Goneril estate is to the south of here,”
“Yeah, that’ll be it. Sheesh, would’ve been nice for him to stop by,” Leonie frowned.
“That’s nobles for ya, always got something important to do with each other. Now come on, you’re gonna clean up the mess you dragged into the kitchen! I’ll take it out of your tab for ya,”
Excerpt from a letter from Hilda Goneril to King Claude von Riegan. Dated 5th of the Garland Moon, Imperial Year 1187.
Claude,
Rejected! I’m speechless! I know Lysithea’s always been headstrong but rejecting a king is something else! Don’t tell me- you called her a kid again, didn’t you? After all those years, the message to treat her like an adult didn’t sink in and now it’s coming back to bite you.
I’m joking, of course. But wow! You’d think marrying you would help out her family, since that’s what she’s all about. I wonder what the problem could be… she must have given you a reason, you’re just not telling me. You were very vague in your last letter, you know. Could it be you’re still recovering from the shock? Oh, how my heart bleeds for my dear friend. Ha!
Do those stuffy old books you’ve imported from northern Almyra have something to do with this? Wooing her with sweets might work better, hint hint!
By the way, …
“What do you mean he’s GONE!?” Hilda’s voice bellowed in the audience chamber, “He’s sneaky but he isn’t invisible! Goddess, how terrible are the royal guards at their job! I knew I should’ve stayed behind to keep an eye on him but no!”
The messenger cast a pleading look to Holst. The Duke shrugged as if the axe-wielding woman in front of them didn’t look like she was going to crush something or, most vitally for the messenger, someone.
“Yes… Duke Goneril, the king’s absence has led to much disarray-” Hilda scoffed a ‘no, really?’ “-in the court. If you have seen him or know of his whereabouts, it is imperative you inform us. Almyra and Fódlan have both enjoyed and benefited from the peace he has brought about-”
“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to tell us! It should be him you’re lecturing, wherever he is…” She seemed to deflate by the end of the sentence. The axe was laid head-first onto the floor with a heavy thunk, letting Hilda rest her weight onto it. “Claude, what have you got planned now..?”
Holst rose from his seat, “If we hear anything, we’ll be sure to send back word as soon as possible. Still,” He clapped the messenger on the shoulder, “This is the king of Almyra we’re talking about! I’m sure we’ll find him sooner than later. You can’t miss a guy like that, especially riding a snow-white wyvern!”
The doors at the end of the room swung open, their slamming against the walls echoing throughout, “Hilda! Hilda, it’s- you just got a messenger!” Marianne rambled as she ran into the room.
“Whoah, Marianne, calm down!” Hilda caught her friend in her arm. Marianne had been staying over for what was formally a diplomatic visit and informally a girl’s weekend. “Catch your breath, I’m sure it’s no worse than any of our other messages today,”
Marianne took a few deep breaths. Hilda could tell she was not only doing it to catch her breath but also because of her emotions. Like a horse galloping out of it’s stable, something had terribly spooked Marianne. She brushed some stray hairs behind her friend’s ear.
“Who sent it?” Holst asked.
“It’s from House Ordelia, Duke Holst,” She turned to Hilda, “Lysithea has gone missing!”
Hilda’s hand fell, “Oh no…”
Message sent from Till Ordelia to Duke Holst Goneril, dated 30th of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1191
Lysithea, my only child and heir, has disappeared from Ordelia land. She was last seen on the evening of the 29th by the nurse maids. I hope you understand that her status and failing health make it vital that she is recovered and returned home safely. House Ordelia would be endlessly grateful for any help offered to find and bring her home.
Margarete Ordelia’s wails are heard all throughout the modest estate. Her husband rarely joins in her despair. Still they hold on to one another in their arms, mourning anew.
Her sadness is loud enough to protect her from the whispers he hears from the estate’s comers and goers.
“Do you really think she would run off?”
“Miss Lysithea is so small, she barely has the strength to walk.”
“I pray those strange individuals from the Empire have nothing to do with this.”
“A kidnapping, it must be!”
“Do you think the Almyran king has something to do with this?”
“She rejected his marriage proposal, didn’t she?”
“Foolish girl.”
“Nothing was taken from her room but her bedcover, how strange…”
Houses Goneril, Riegan and Gloucester have joined the search, dividing parties to search for Claude and Lysithea. Naturally the former garners more urgency than the other, to the Ordelia’s dismay.
Excerpt from The Sacred Tellings of Rune the Crone, found in King Khalid’s study. Translated from an unknown language into Almyran, and then from Almyran into Fódlander. The Almyran translator’s notes point out that the original language is cryptic in its use of poetic language. The translated Fódlander version agrees.
The heavenly body contains beads. To return the changed to unchanged, not filling in cracks but as if no cracks were made. A broken doll must exist to be origin. Dance with the blue star to sleep in its home. Arise anew and old.
Lorenz prides himself in having an eye for aesthetics, so naturally he’s appalled when he hears what Ignatz has been hiding from the world.
“These illustrations demonstrate a keen connection, nay, admiration for the subjects! It would be criminal to continue obscuring them from the eye.” He shakes the papers as gently as possible in front of the artist’s face. “Just how can someone whose works are displayed in the great Church of Seiros have hesitation about displaying such fine works? You truly are one for the ages.”
“These are different, Lorenz!” Ignatz scolds, grabbing the browned pieces from Lorenz with an equal amount of oxymoron-ish care. He looks down at them, scribbles and sketches of his friends from years past. The talent of his younger self makes it so even he is fooled by the illusion of movement. “These are…” Leonie showing Hilda and Marianne proper form despite the two’s hesitation, Raphael jovially clapping Lorenz on the back and causing the latter to stumble.
Lysithea and Claude, pouring over a shared book. Lysithea posing in a simple seated position, almost immediately after everyone reunited. Claude sitting incorrectly on a chair with an arrow in his mouth and a wink on his face (and a Lysithea in the background with a comically simple frown and crossed eyebrows). Claude, the last time Ignatz saw him, with the sun behind him. Lysithea, the last time he saw her, sickly and lying back in her bed with her turned to the window and staring out at the stars.
“They’re special, Lorenz. I couldn’t…” It’s difficult to word it.
“Do sketches based off of them, or build upon their beauty. I am sure their families will appreciate any proof of their memories.”
Ignatz nods. “Claude and Lysithea might like to see them, too. I don’t think there’s any paintings of them together.”
“They would have, yes.”
From Illustrated Wondertales for Children, published in 1456
Once upon a time, in a land forgotten, there was a wise woman. She was wise because she read lots and lots of books, learning fact after fact every day. In her short life she ended up knowing more than most people would in their entire lifetime.
She spent many days in her tower of knowledge, studying books and ancient texts. When she was younger the wise woman would dare to venture far beyond the walls of her modest home, whether for her own pursuit of knowledge or to help those she cared about.
One person she cared about a great deal was the king of another land. Even though their worlds were so different, their hearts recognized one another fondly. Once she even journeyed with him to his brilliant pearl-white palace. The time she spent there was both the grandest and simplest of her life.
But sadly hers was not a life to be lived forever. The wise woman was sickly; deathly pale from her skin to the strands of hair on her head. She lamented that she could never live to see the new dawn with her king. When he proposed, she sent the ring back on tear-stained fabric. She wished for him to live his life with someone he could truly share it with.
One night, the wise woman was sleeping in her bed. When suddenly the beating of heavy wings awoke her! She saw a flash of gold at the doorway of the balcony. In silence, she pushed herself to her feet, steadying herself against the wall. Bringing her white blanket for warmth, she approached the balcony.
And there her king stood in all his finery! His magnificent wyvern perched against the stone tower above them, golden eyes to the skies.
“My love,” He said, “I’ve found a cure! But we haven’t much time. The Goddess’ star will disappear soon from the sky; if my plan is to work we must follow it,”
The wise woman fell into his arms. With gentle hands he draped the blanket around her, “For so long you have been one of my dreams. Now, finally, you are my bride,”
And he swept her up upon his wyvern’s back and they flew away from her tower. Into the sea fog, through the clouds, until they broke into the starry sky to fly beside the Blue Sea Star in one another’s arms.