ID: A colorful photo of the Spiral Minaret Samarra, inspiration for the Goldmirage City Center.
Princes Green and Grey strolled through the business district of Goldmirage, somewhat procrastinating before meeting with the Queen. They knew it was wise to see her as quickly as possible, but after the week that the brothers had had, a stroll through the familiar, colorful streets was a much-needed diversion.
The two princes were an unlikely yet perfectly balanced pair. Prince Green, driving his wheelchair with an invisible push, was arrayed in a dignified, dark green robe. Its only adornments were silver filigree and magnetic buttons. A silver chain hung around his neck. His hands, armed with enchanted rings and bracelets, relaxed against his chest as his brown-green eyes took in the sunny street.
Prince Grey, on the other hand, was covered in metal from chest to greaves. His breastplate was scuffed and tarnished, as well as his great shoulder-guards. His double-handed sword hung exhaustedly from his side, and his feet could finally slow down as he walked alongside Green up the road. His silvery armor may have matched his name, but Prince Grey’s eyes were a startlingly vivid green.
The two brothers only matched in three respects. For one, the fillagree and emblems on their robes and armor belonged to their royal family line and queendom of Icehaven. They also shared loves: a love for laughter, a love for battle, and a love for their people. Finally, both Manish boys were the object of the affection of women from Icehaven in the North to the Southernmost reaches of the Necklace Archipelago.
Green was quick-witted and even quicker with his mouth, but Grey preferred to keep the peace. And both of them had been fighting tooth and nail the past two weeks for peace. But it was already gone.
The street they wandered was more like an open-air corridor with high, granite walls rising around them. The whole capitol’s center was built like a great ramp, snaking upwards in spirals and levels until it ended at the front gates where the palace touched the sky. Here at the lower levels, the buildings were lined with countless stalls and carts, faring souvenirs, and treats. The goods and citizens were as colorful as the enormous banners that hung from the ramp walls, for people of every race graced Goldmirage: Men, Cervine, Bovine, Najaden, Ḍraiyaaḍas, Merfolk, and Equine. Some of the merchants’ loud calls paused as the two princes passed by – their style of clothing being exotic. Some buyers stopped to stare while others resumed their shopping and bargaining.
The brothers looked at each stall like patrons in a museum, followed by only a handful of soldiers. They would have ambled longer a had not unit of Golden Soldiers found them. The Captain of the Guard, a dark-haired Cervine by the name of Chaska, saluted by patting his heart and clasping their left hands. They shared hugs with heavy, knowing sighs.
“Princes Green and Grey,” Chaska declared, resuming his firm demeanor, “Queen Neiyiri is summoning you.”
The brothers obeyed and were led to a wooden platform on the wall, where the procession was lifted upwards by a system of built-in pulleys and chains. Once the platform summited the 135-hand height, they all crossed the street on the next level to another platform awaiting them. Thusly they travelled from wall to wall straight to the royal palace.
However, they were not led to the gates, but down a dark alley running alongside the palace walls. Rounding a corner – but then, circles don’t have corners – the princes were surprised to come face-to-face with the Queen.
Queen Neiyiri was a breathtaking sight, for she was an Equine. Her lower quadrupedal half was dark brown, single hooved, neatly trimmed, and adorned with strings of jewels and pearls. Her upper half, clothed in an orange, collared blouse of embroidered silk, was even more striking. With radiant dark skin, hair cascading down her back in thick dreadlocks, and elegant features, she was among the most beautiful people the princes had ever known. And the largest; she stood a full nine hands higher than everyone else. She wore no crown, for none was needed to display her royalty. Yet, a lock of black hair was twisted over her head with golden thread. Her hands were folded over her abdomen, patiently but earnestly.
Grey kneeled and Green bowed his head.
“Welcome, Princes Green and Grey of the North,” she said, her voice deep and measured. “There is an unwelcome stirring in my domain; shadows where light reigned and anxious whispers among the people.”
When the brothers looked up, they noticed a pale woman swathed in a purple shawl to the Queen’s left. Grey recognized her as the royal Seer, a person whose Spirit allowed her to see visions of events past, present, and future. He nodded politely, but she stared into nothing.
Queen Neiyiri continued. “There is much you must tell me. The members of my Council are worried, some panicked, that the bloodshed will spread here. But the sun herself will extinguish before the Golden Lands fall to the unrighteous.”
“Goldmirage is the fortress of the world,” Green stated, “but is the Book safe?”
“The Book is safe.”
The Seer gasped suddenly, like being stabbed in the stomach. “Someone has torn a page from the Book!”
The Queen reacted little beyond the slight turning of her head. Either her sober countenance was unflappable, or she was simply used to her Seer’s outbursts. Or both.
“Open the vault!” ordered the Queen.
Capt. Chaska rushed by to unlock a door at the end of the alley, the princes in tow. Several ramps were descended, and even more doors unlocked, Chaska’ cloven hooves echoing through the labyrinthian hallways. They burst into a dark room flooded with three hands of water where a Man splashed around in a crazed panic. Chaska raised his crossbow to the intruder. The man babbled and yelled things incomprehensible, but one word could be discerned: “Book!”
The brothers looked to the far end of the room where it was kept atop a pedestal. Its glass shield lay unbroken beside it, and it could be seen that where a page once was, there was only a jagged tear.
Green and Grey froze, speechless. Neiyiri clopped down to the door, looking over their heads.
“They used water,” she whispered fiercely.
Add comment
Comments