The Etra Anthology

163rd of Nemulum, 214 RI

Castle Umbreanu, Athal

Imryll would be the one to keep the flow of life in the Kingdom of Ranavar at peace. That much, they knew. Their way about it was not straightforward. Divinely granted responsibility was not meant to be. But, even still, it was made most arduous in court. The raised voices, the dissenting opinions, the lack of respect for anything but the indulgent self. It was grueling, to maintain the balance that was necessary of them through that tangled antagonism.

Despite this, it was their prerogative to do as they saw fit. It had been made that way by order of their birth, certainly, but to their core they were sure that it was the path of harmony that the three most holy deities of the Stria Intranscendent had empowered them to follow. They would not shirk that investiture.

So, they sat back and listened as Resyra addressed the council of advisors. Their half-sister carried herself proudly, decked in the practical fineries that had come to fashion in association with the Athalial Explorer’s League, filling the space despite her smaller stature. “I’ve not come here to argue, niece.”

“Then you would do well to watch your tone.” Jilwalyn growled back in response. She was a thickheaded young woman, broad and stocky by her half-human lineage, the daughter of a distant cousin. During her time at court, Imryll had found her to be blunt with her tongue and quick to anger. “That you have failed to comply with the monarch’s decree in any sort of timely manner is an embarrassment to your organization.”

“Well, that is some part of the reason for which it was I that was sent, to treat on the League’s behalf.” Resyra explained in measured pace. 

Imryll, ever observant, gleaned that there was some weight veiled behind the words.

“I mean, really,” Jilwalyn continued as though Resyra hadn’t said anything at all, “What about this could you people be mucking up to this degree? The order was to disband your waystations in territories that have been made civilized. All your people need to do is pack it up, and they can’t even do that right! If these places have already been explored, then whose moronic idea was it to send more explorers there?”

“Well, that is the way of it.” Resyra turned, and though she was responding to Jilwalyn she was facing the throne directly as she said it. “There has been no failure. The Athalial League will not be complying with the wishes of the crown, in this instance.”

The audience chamber broke into chaos.

Imryll processed what had been revealed, just watching the ripples spread out. Jilwalyn was yelling, unheard, turning back and forth between Resyra and the crowd which had formed to hold her back. Resyra stood flanked by allies of the League. Imryll wished that Filauriel was still present, but their mother had left early in the day to attend to matters of her own.

In the midst of that crowd, their eye caught Halavor. He had a lithe beauty to him, feline, draped in long robes of the stria. He and Imryll had not been courting for long, but their shared devotion to the faith had brought them onto each other’s paths. All Halavor did was look back at their monarch, his hand reaching meaningfully to his holy symbol.

“Order.” Imryll spoke, not loudly or forcefully, but with a keen direction as they reached for their own holy symbol.

The courtiers continued their squabbles, and so Imryll stood and raised their amulet ahead of them.

“I called for order in this place!” Imryll’s hand holding the divine implement glowed in sacred light, and their voice reverberated out in thaumaturgy. There were none that did not hear. All through the court, like a wave, voices fell silent and attention was compelled to the throne. It was magic, the channeling of divinity, wielded in conjunction with the authority that the crown conferred.

They did not falter until all were silent. “Sister. Speak, and know that you and those you represent are heard.”

“You have my thanks, sibling.” Resyra shuddered off the magic that was holding her. “The provosts of the Athalial Explorer’s League have conferred, and determined that they will retain their land holdings on all the worlds of Athal despite the Kingdom’s request that they be ceded.”

Jilwalyn gritted her teeth, surrounded by a furious contingent of nobles, but she could not break from the compulsion to keep the peace.

“By what right have you come to this decision?” Imryll took a step closer, down from the throne.

“By the League’s founding commission, your highness.” Resyra cleared her throat, “Our organization was granted the wherewithal to walk freely in all lands, and to conduct ourselves as we see fit. Those were the words of our grandfather, that great man who lead our kingdom out of the ruin of the Evenfall. We would hold to them.”

“I have read the speech, same as you.” Imryll was quick to their response. “King Llywelyn also declared that the crown would have authority over the direction of the Explorer’s League, as its subjects.”

“This is true.” Resyra seemed almost apologetic, “We have come to find that component of subjection misaligned with the remittance that the League has provided to the nation of Ranavar.”

“This is treason!” Jilwalyn finally managed to gasp out.

Resyra did not look away from their sibling, and all eyes followed theirs. “That charge is for the monarch to assert.”

A long moment passed between them in silence.

“Are you sure this is the course of action you wish to take, sister? Is there no means to persuade you and yours short of violence?” Imryll’s question carried with it a sense of finality. It would not be asked again.

“I am.” Resyra held resolute, in spite of the implications on both sides. “War between the League and the Kingdom would be the only means of compelling our side to capitulation.”

The world pulled taught, out of shape from the way that Imryll knew it should be. They sighed, feeling the burden of their station more than they ever had before.

“In that case,” Imryll released, “the Kingdom of Ranavar rescinds its command that the Athalial Explorer’s League disband their waystations. By my right as monarch I declare it so.”

Like a floodgate burst, the present company erupted into tense discussion once more. 

Resyra showed the relief of a worry that they had hidden well. They approached the throne, to speak privately. “The League thanks you for your wise decision, your highness.”

“You’ve given me little choice, sister.” Imryll exhibited a level of anger that was rare for them. “To threaten war, in this place that I have made holy? I will not have it.”

“It was you who threatened war.” Resyra recounted. “Your father would have been proud.”

Imryll bottled up what shame they felt over that. “You should leave. And I don’t think I need to decree that you should not return.”

“It’ll be no matter.” Resyra held in their hurt. “The League intends to vacate it’s guildhalls in Kesserine. We will raise a citadel in some corner of the nation that we have won for you, and I will ensure that that place is remote enough that you and I will have no cause to see one another.”

She left then, and Imryll kept to the court. They held, and they maintained, and they kept, but in the end holding was not action enough to hold on to their precious peace.