3rd of Frost, Year 4621
He sat in his red velvet, dark-wood chair, hunched over a long table filled with books and scribbled notes, as well as inactive Shard Resonators, the faintly glowing blue crystals strewn about the surface. Before him was a brass-colored box with a faint blue glow emanating from within; a Transmission device, for communicating with the people back at 'home'. Lorien.
"Wendell," Taelian whispered. "I've been here for... what, several weeks, now? No meetings with Lady Ald. I've seen her a time or two, but most of my time is spent... prattling with her godsdamned courtiers in some soiree, or interacting with them as she takes audience. Never mine, though. I appear to have been 'missed' - multiple times."
He could hear an audible sigh on the other end, as his husband's voice chimed in. "She's likely trying not to make it seem like you're an important guest. If she makes you go through the same process as any other seeking her ear, your meeting won't be suspicious. A Rien dignitary -- particularly of a faction of magi -- is an interesting man. Surely people in the hall have already sought to glean your intent for being there?"
"They have," he replied. "Relentlessly. It's... stressful, to be honest." Taelian paused for a moment, taking in a breath. "How is the war -- how is Eloise holding up? And our Duke, Matthias?"
"Stagnant," said Wendell. "Eloise is fine. The Duke is fine. Things are tense -- it's been difficult to hunt with the Aether Cannon, of late. The Kindred have obscured their ether signature by entrenching themselves in the heart of Von Rabe's blizzard. In fact... it almost seems as if most of them have disappeared. Strange, isn't it?"
"Not strange," Taelian whispered. He leaned his elbows into the table, clasping his hands together beneath his chin and sighing. "We should have known. They are trying to obscure themselves -- to wait things out. Tensions are high among the people, too. The longer this becomes prolonged, the more they will beg for the return of normality. Eloise should have sent me to kill Annalise Florent."
"No, Taelian -- she would be a martyr."
"You're wrong. Catherine was a martyr. Annalise is a monster; a symbol of the worst aspects of that 'religion'. She'll just land on the guillotine eventually, anyway. Better she be dead."
"...Perhaps. I must leave, though; the Count is convening a meeting to discuss our war provisions. A number of the Knights in the West End have gone rogue, and have been leading Hollows away from their duties on the farms. We need to counter-act that; we'll probably be sending some Pact magi."
"I wish Eloise did not send me here," he frowned. "I could have handled... so much, myself. Why is she...?"
"That's precisely why, Taelian. Never outshine the master. Anyway, I must go. Farewell, love."
"Farewell," he said quietly, in reply, notably absent that word of affection. 'Love'.
As the transmission ended, he stared forward, his features twisted with a dissatisfied look. Wendell was right -- he was becoming a threat to Eloise, and that was why he was here. She did not want him to solve all of their problems. She needed to be the one to do that; Duchess Galbrecht's gaze was landing far too often on Taelian's back as a source of strength, action, even counsel.
Hours passed, and before the evening came, he was out and about in the streets of Amoren. Wearing a simple Rien garb -- a peacoat with some matching slacks, and Derby shoes -- he stepped through the cobbled streets towards the inner quarter of the city, headed towards Ardenserat. At least, he could only muse, he got to see an Elven wonder every day he attended court. Most of his kind could never have even dreamt of laying their eyes on the Autumn Refuge. He was a favored soul.
Taelian winced. Favored soul. He was reminded, again, of the birthright he had left behind. Eloise had certainly been relieved not to have a Draedan in her midst -- his power was one she envied. The moment they had found a way to sequester his Divine Spark, she had sent him away, forcing his own isolation in these distant lands. He could only imagine that it would be better to reawaken that power. Would he really die from the leaking corruption, anyhow? Draedan had vitality far greater than other men.
He glanced upward, and before he knew it, Ardenserat loomed before him; that massive behemoth of a structure, expanding outward to fill his entire view. The autumn leaves hung from every balcony, along every pillar. A faint smile curved at the edge of his lip.
"Another day," he whispered. "No more bullshit, Taelian. No more."
