B3 – Chapter 34: Discussion with the Highlord

Forsych spoke loud enough to be heard over the rushing wind blowing by Tristan’s head. “What you did was disgusting.”

“It’s part of being a dragonslayer,” Tristan replied. “Sorry if that upset you. Where are we heading now?”

“The Highlord wanted to talk with you. See that large cloud that shimmers light blue from below?”

Tristan looked up, scanning the sky, but did not find it. Felicity did, however, and tapped his head as she pointed. “Up there!” she said.

“That,” Forsych continued, “Is the Cloud-Palace of the Realm Protector. I believe the topic of discussion was going to be on how our Realms can mutually benefit one another.”

Tristan nodded and kept taking in the environment, knowing that further questions would be better asked of the ruler he was going to an audience with. The clouds above were static and unchanging, which made sense to him, given that buildings were placed atop them. He watched as all throughout the skies, normally flying in pairs or trios, Celestials roamed. Their avian-inspired forms tracing gentle arcs through the sky as they would swoop then glide.

The people below that Tristan could make out thanks to his Elven sight were living peaceful lives that seemed quite orderly. They were going about their tasks as if they had been doing it their whole existence. “Is there any social mobility here?” Tristan asked.

“No,” Forsych replied. “Angelblood citizens are born into their caste. The ground bound, and the wing-blessed. Those who are not happy with this arrangement may leave and enter the Mortal Realm. But no other existence is safer.”

Felicity made her paw-claw biscuits on Tristan’s head and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “Not too different from the whole hierarchy thing you’ve gone on about in the Fey Realm.”

Yes, Tristan thought. Very true. But the idea of letting them leave…that is an idea I could take if I wanted. I mean, I’ve already done that with the Nymphs, allowing those who wanted out of the Fey Realm. I could just open the same idea to fairy dragons…but…the possibility of them being tracked and transported like I was with Felicity…it could lead to infiltration. He sighed, perhaps not, given their capricious nature for getting into trouble.

They rose up through the sky and eventually got up to the level of the clouds. Tristan once more saw the vast, stone edifices made of white and sky-blue stone that melded together in a gorgeous blend of sweeping arches and vaulted halls. The buildings were of cylindrical design, with prominent domes that were capped with bronze marking the highest points of each building.

And they landed on one of the clouds. Forsych set Tristan down, and he could feel the slight give of the cloud underneath his feet. Felicity hopped off his head and landed on the surface, bouncing up and down slightly as she giggled. “It’s springy!” she said.

Forsych chuckled at the sight of a hopping fairy dragon, “Yes. Come this way.” He led Tristan toward a massive garden plot filled with flowers that were all familiar to him – roses and tulips primarily – but they were the colors of metals: gold, silver, bronze, and platinum – all planted inside a large, steel box filled with a rich, dark soil. On either side of them, a tall, chest-high railing kept those treading upon the cloud-ground from falling down.

The building before them was solid light-blue stone, and a single open archway permitted them entry into the interior. An entrance hall, with statues lining either side of the hallway as a fractal pattern of metal tiles created an intricate pattern of repeating shapes and lines along the ceiling, and reflected in the smooth, polished, white stone floor. Tristan’s boots clacked on the stone as Forsych’s talon-feet made a slightly more pronounced click with each step.

Entering a huge room, Tristan saw the Highlord sitting on a large cushion, with a small table before him filled out with foodstuffs and carafes. A bountiful feast, with consumables that Tristan had never seen before. Flaky pastries seemed to dominate the table. And, to his surprise, there was no meat.

The Highlord Yoriand stood up and dipped his head slightly, “Lord Tristan, please join me.”

Tristan walked up to the raised platform and unbelted his sword, removed his other weapons, and set them on the ground next to the platform before he stepped up and took one of the offered cushions. Forsych walked up behind the Highlord and took up a guard’s position, hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed blade. “Thank you for all that you have given,” Tristan said as he gave a half-bow of equal station.

The Highlord sat as Felicity hopped up to the edge of the table and began sampling the various items. She kept making satisfied noises as she slowly moved down the table. “Please, help yourself,” the Highlord said with some minor amusement as Felicity consumed far more food than her body should have been able to store. He looked to Tristan, “I appreciate you coming to speak with me. We have much to discuss.”

Tristan reached for one of the pastries and placed it on the empty plate in front of him. He did not take a bite, instead making eye contact with the Celestial whose power rivaled or perhaps exceeded that of The Matriarch. “First off, I want to apologize on behalf of Eloise Serre for not warning you about the more…visceral side of my bloodline.”

“It was just a shock,” Yoriand replied with a dismissive wave. “I was not expecting it.” He looked down at the huge table of food, “And to be honest, it ruined my appetite.” He chuckled a bit then regained his composure and looked back to Tristan, holding his gaze. “Now…to discuss affairs between our Realms. It has been a long, long time since I have hosted an Elf. And that was after the Fey Realm was sealed off. I have been informed by my contact at the Citadel of Essence that you will have a portal open for a week each Season to allow visitors.”

“That is correct,” Tristan replied as he grabbed one of the cups and poured himself a glass full of a shimmering, sparkling liquid. “I am planning on limiting how far people can go within my Realm; around the main entrance point, a small market, and a few prescribed spaces.”

“Of course, can’t have other species and heritages traipsing all over your Realm.”

Tristan nodded, “May I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you rule alone?”

“Yes,” Yoriand replied. “I am the sole arbitrator of all my Realm’s affairs. I make all the decisions, hold all the consciousnesses of those who perish while here, and have been here since the Realm was first created.”

That caught Tristan’s attention most of all, and his voice took on an inquisitive tone. “How does a Realm form?”

Yoriand shrugged, “The mechanisms are mysterious. All I can say is that when a Realm is formed, a single being is birthed into that place with the power to create. A godlike entity. Or, in the case of the Mortal Realm, entities plural. The more interesting part is the cosmology of it all – we all share a sun and the moons. The Mortal Realm is like the foundation of a house, and every Realm shares a space of being on the “first floor” of the house.” He chuckled, “But that is a bit more philosophical than what I wanted to discuss with you.” Yoriand’s voice became more serious and less jovial. “Now…what I seek is mutual benefit to both of our Realms. What can your Realm offer?”

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Tristan took a bite of the pastry, savoring the delicious sweet and nutty notes of flavor. Taking a polite sip of the shimmering liquid that bubbled and fizzed on his tongue, leaving hints of raspberry-esque flavor, he composed himself to respond how a diplomat would. Measured, and confident. “The Fey Realm is vast, and has many different species. I can take any substance – aside from meat, it seems – and cause it to grow as if it were a plant. I have an entire tree that produces Aegisium, which my residents can remove without harming the tree.”

That seemed to get the Highlord’s attention most of all, and his tone slipped the diplomatic one and into intrigue. “You can grow the most valuable metal that takes us months to find and mine?”

Tristan nodded, and removed the coif from his armor before handing it to the Highlord. “This is Aegisium combined with Wildsteel. An alloy made by the Gnome smiths of my Realm.”

The Highlord’s expression was one of being impressed, and also irritated. He handed the coif back to Tristan, “That is…” he sighed, “I will be honest with you, as plotting is not in my nature and I value honest conversations.”

Felicity spoke through a stuffed mouth, “Tristan’s not a liar either. He sucks at it!”

Tristan nodded, “I prefer honest discourse. Please, continue.”

The Highlord chuckled slightly at Felicity’s comment and ridiculous appearance – mouth stuffed full of pastries as she continued to work her way down the far side of the table, clearing it off from all the various pastries. “Aegisium is hard to get. If you have a means to easily acquire it…well, I would be willing to make some concessions.” He tented his hands, “Have you heard of something called a partial Grafting?”

Tristan shook his head, “No. But I know that Grafting has to do with finding a Lost Realm to add onto one’s own Realm. Only a Realm Protector can do that, though.”