Serial
79: Return of the Wolf
March 19th, 33 S.D. 15:31 Sevia, Sventa
Streaking across the rolling land, a single azure stream ran forward to the west. Like a bright, blue line, it traced its way deeper and deeper into Sventa. Over boundless fields it steadily raced along. As it passed villages and towns in the distance, far off people stopped to wonder at the sight. Pausing from their daily lives, they looked up, pointing towards the horizon. What was such a phenomenon, and what did its strange and sudden appearance mean? Ever so similar to a comet, the mysterious event soon departed, leaving only a glowing trail in its wake.
Losha found herself making better progress than she’d expected. As she and Izel approached Sevia, she quit serializing speed-steps. She had taken but a few breaks on this trip, but even so she retained a healthy amount of seras. For his part, Izel didn’t seem the least bit tired, despite the long journey. Perhaps seras and serialization had an effect on other creatures as well. The weather had been clear earlier that day, however, the sky later saw fit to rain upon the traveling pair. It was only a light shower, a refreshing sprinkle, nevertheless, Losha pulled out a hooded cloak the Henron had given her. She fixed it upon herself just as Sevia came into view.
Walking towards the city, Losha quickly noted two people advancing on horseback. She felt their seras frequencies long before either of them arrived at her position. They were both soldiers of the Sventa army, a man and a woman. Coming up to her, they entreated Losha to stop for a moment.
“Pardon us, young lady,” said the man. “There have been fears of an Henron attack, you know.”
“Indeed,” agreed the woman. “Not too many travel this route these days, much less alone. Have you business in Sevia?”
They apparently did not realize who Losha was; that was understandable since she did not wear her distinctive garb, nor did she display her abilities. Her face alone, it seemed, was not yet widely recognized. Nonetheless, she decided there was no need to make a fuss about her identity.
“Sa. I am coming back to see my family,” Losha replied. “I have something to deliver in Sevia as well.”
“Please,” the male soldier said. “Allow us to escort you there.”
“I doubt you will have any trouble,” said the female soldier. “But we would serve a fellow clan member in any way we can.”
“Thank you,” Losha smiled. “I am grateful for your kindness.”
Thus the three of them continued to Sevia. Naturally they tried to converse with Losha, and though she did not lie about her recent past, she did not reveal any substantial details. For the time being, she wanted to remain obscure and nameless. Eventually, a topic of certain interest came up.
“I should hope you can make your delivery soon,” said the woman.
“Sa, why is that?” Losha asked.
“Do you not know?”
Losha simply shook her head. “I have been away since December.”
“Sa,” explained the man. “Tonight they are holding yet another meeting of the Tabran. As such, we are imposing a curfew.”
“The Tabran convenes this evening?” Losha marveled. She knew that they’d been having gatherings more frequently than usual, but to have one on this day... She was most fortunate indeed; she could convince the Toroms to support the alliance right away. With this news in mind, she changed her plans.
“Sa. They meet at five ‘o’ clock, but curfew does not begin until seven. You should have plenty of time to see to your affairs.”
“Sa,” Losha said. “I may not be able to see my family first, however.”
The soldiers led her into Sevia’s inner streets before departing for their other duties. As they left, she cast a glance at the edge of the city, checking the outlines of the Holvate residences. Losha frowned for but a moment to herself as she turned around. She’d see them all again soon enough, but for the time being she had more pressing matters to address. She had an important job to fulfill after all, one that could very well decide their fates.
While she and Izel trotted about the roads, they found themselves moving towards the Vental. The Torom representatives would have a long session ahead of them, especially if Losha had any say. It was still too early to stir up any sort of commotion, so she went past that great building. With her face ever hidden by her drooping hood, Losha moved in complete anonymity. Seemingly unnoticed by all, she had a few preparations she wanted to make before the Tabran began their work. The first thing she did was turn into a clothes shop. After tying Izel up, she entered and spoke to a middle-aged man standing behind the counter.
“Excuse me, but do you have an account for the Holvate?” she inquired.
“Sa,” replied the clerk, folding his arms. “What is the account number?”
Her family kept accounts with various stores in a system established by the Sventa that basically acted like credit. The account number served to verify the person making the purchase. Though no one had told Losha directly, she’d discovered it on her own after searching through her father’s office. Her goal back then had been to obtain information regarding the brewing war, however, she’d stumbled upon all sorts of other details. The account numbers were still in her memory, thankfully.
“2358771092,” Losha said without delay. The clerk, evidently familiar with the number, nodded up and down.
“Sa, that is it.” He shrugged slightly. “Usually Busama comes down here.”
“He is particularly busy today. Besides,” Losha said. “This is something personal; I have to choose it myself.”
“Very well. What can I do for you today?”
“I need something, how to say this... formal,” Losha said, pulling her hood back and wiping away beads of rain off her chest.
“Formal, you say?”
“Sa, something stately I suppose. I am expecting to meet with some important clan members this evening. My current attire is a little... underwhelming.”
“Sa, sa, I understand then. Tell me, are you looking for a dress, or perhaps something along the lines of a tarvesh?”
The tarvesh was an Asten garnment common among numerous clans. It was generally a long-sleeved top with loose, open cuffs. The shirt ran midway down to one’s thigh. Beneath that, soft, slightly slacken pants were worn. Always, the tarvesh had a belt of some kind to tie these two pieces together aesthetically. It was considered unisex in style, and it was often worn by those who administered local laws or held other official positions. While she wasn’t sure if it was something appropriate for the strict dress code of the Tabran, Losha personally liked the look. It held the vestiges of her old school uniform from Palostrol.
“Actually, a tarvesh sounds wonderful. Do you have something in black?”
“Black? Certainly. It is a most unusual color to pick, however. Let me see.” The clerk shuffled around, peering into a closet full of hangers. “Sa, sa, here is one with white markings.”
Straight, white lines ran across the bridge of the shoulders, flowing down the arms on the sides until they formed rings at the cuffs. Likewise, a pair of lines sat on either outer side of the legs. The clerk pulled it out, presenting the articles for her appraisal.
“That will do very well,” Losha smiled.
“Sa, really?” he said with a laugh. “I wish my daughter could make up her mind so quickly. Every time she needs new clothes, it always takes the better part of the day to pick something out. I suppose me and this shop are to blame for that, what with all the choices I give her.”
“It simply requires knowing what you want, I guess.” Losha took the tarvesh and changed in a small room down the shop’s hall. Before coming back out, she spent a few minutes putting her hair into a long braid. It had been a while since she’d done that; over the course of the war, it’d simply been easier to leave it loose. She wanted to make herself look the part of Torom of Holvate.
As she finished, Losha examined herself in the mirror. To her eyes, she appeared uncannily like the student she had once been. Regardless, a great deal had happened; neither herself nor her circumstances were the same. She leaned in close, inspecting her own person face-to-face. Pulling back, she let her gaze fall down as she sighed.
“I am different now, but how so?” she whispered to herself. Taking a step away, Losha breathed in deeply as she stared intently at her reflection again. “I am a little sadder. I am a little stronger. I still have quite a bit of things to do, but I have that much more to look forward to.” Before she went out of the store, she registered the purchase with the clerk.
“Ah, young lady!” he said, suddenly as he was logging everything. “The tarvesh is not complete without the belt. I almost forgot. Have you a color in mind?” He waved a hand to a large shelf with countless belts arranged coiled-up. “Perhaps something white as well?”
“No. How about something blue. Sa, no buckles, and a bit longer.”
The clerk grabbed one and unraveled it before her. “This one?”
“Sa, perfect!” Losha took it and wrapped it a few times around her waist. The ends hung at her hip on the left side, dangling freely. It felt just like her old sash...
“Hmm... Not a very traditional look for a tarvesh, but interesting and distinctive all the same,” he nodded and grinned, writing the belt into the order. “Did you want to know the final price?”
“No, that is fine. We will deal with it at the month’s end as usual.”
“Very well. Thank you for your business. Oh, and please give Busama a word from us.”
Losha exited the shop, stuffing her old clothes in her backpack. Rather than ride Izel, she pulled him alongside by his reins. They stopped by a bakery while waiting for the hour to end. Like the clothes shop, they had an account with her family, so she had little trouble getting something to eat. Not wanting to leave Izel out, she gave him some food she’d taken for their trip.
By then, the rain had ceased, but evening soon crept upon Sevia. After stopping a passerby to find out the current time, she decided it was the proper moment to head for the Vental. Winding their way back through the commercial district, they soon found themselves standing before the massive dome-like building. An array of posts sat around the western side for people to tie down their horses. Most people, however, had arrived in carriages, which had their own sort of parking lot on the eastern side. As Losha fixed Izel to his spot, she frowned slightly.
“Are you going to be alright like this?” Losha wondered. “I will most likely be gone a few hours you know.” Izel puttered and stamped his front hoof on the ground, as if asserting that he would in fact do just fine.
“Alright. If you insist,” Losha said as she took the package Tibil had given her. “Wish me luck.”
She turned and walked to the southern side where the entrance was. It looked as if everyone had already gone inside for the meeting; she saw no one around save for two guards. Losha detected a number of seras frequencies within the Vental, so she was indeed late. As a result, she couldn’t just walk in, blending with a group or crowd. The guards would certainly put her under thorough scrutiny. Of course, she could always just tell them who she was, but that would start a commotion... She wanted to get the Tabran with their full, undivided attention. Walking up to the guards, Losha was immediately questioned upon reaching the steps.
“Are you here for the Tabran meeting?” one of them asked.
“Sa,” she said.
“What Torom?” asked the other, holding up his clipboard. “Only recognized representatives or select officials are allowed during a session.”
“It does not matter which Torom. I have vital business inside, gentlemen.” The guards all at once saw their bodies enveloped by a brilliant blue light, but only for an instant. They were frozen in place by a kinetic series. Under such imposing constraints, they could do nothing but widen their eyes. With a wave of Losha’s finger, she forced their legs to move. The pair parted, allowing her through.
“Do not worry. I am not here to cause any trouble, but I must have you two quietly stand here. You will regain yourselves shortly, but not before I have tended to this urgent matter of mine.”
She walked past them while they merely watched. Losha made her way to the top of the stairs and entered the Vental. This was actually her first visit within the historic site. She’d always imagined it to be a large office of some sort as a little girl. That fanciful image had come from the brief stories her uncle had shared with her when he’d been the Torom of Holvate. In reality, she didn’t see much of anything when she came inside.
To her left stood a dead end. To the right sat a pathway that curved in sync with the Vental’s circumference. Seeing as it was the only available direction, she followed. Along the inner wall, tapestries dropped down from the high ceiling. Interspersed between these, paintings hung, mostly depicting Sventa history and notable figures. It awkwardly dawned on Losha that she could recognize only a handful. Her childhood education had focused on other areas, naturally.
A number of fixed candles lit the trail, guiding her along the circle. Here and there, a doorway lead to some other room, however, she could tell they were unoccupied. She sensed a mass of seras further within, some 200-plus souls. Oddly, the Tabran didn’t consist of that many Toroms though. Only some 40 or so representatives were normally present in addition to a few other people of status. Losha isolated the seras frequencies of her mother and brother. She found this all strange given that only one of them was required tonight. Had things changed that much in her absence?
The path gradually moved inwards, like a great spiral, the whirling of the wind. The Vental was not only aptly named after their people, it had been thoughtfully constructed with their symbol as well. It seemed everyone was in the center of the Vental. A dim chatter continually grew as she walked ever closer. At last, voices became audible and coherent as she came towards the great chamber. Two more guards stood by a tall, door-less threshold. Losha could not yet see into the chamber, but the buzz of lively debate floated through the air. Suddenly, a stiff, stern voice called out over the ranks of the Tabran.
“Brothers, sisters, enough of this banter. Let us move on to the next item on our agenda.”
Losha came up to the two sentries and nodded at them, smiling a bit nervously. “Oh! It looks like I really am late,” she said, halting before the entrance. The guards exchanged looks at one another.
“Go on then, please.”
“Sa, sa. No need to worry. You will not disturb anyone. Just take a seat quickly and no one will notice,” he winked. Having already sneaked in this far, Losha aroused no suspicion from these two. They probably reasoned that if she were already standing in front of them, she belonged here. Technically, she did have every right to attend this meeting, since she was part of the Torom of Holvate as well.
“Sa, it is my first time here, you see. Thank you.”
They smiled warmly as she strolled past them. The chamber itself was an impressive room, a mixture of theater and arena all at once. In the center stood a platform raised from the floor. Four elevated walkways connected with the platform, creating a cross. At three ends of the walkways, rows of seats ran up the wall. It was, in some aspects, just like Palostrol’s Main Hall... The last walkway actually began at the chamber’s entrance. As soon as Losha stepped inside, she found herself a meter above the ground. Ahead, commanding a podium, a silver-haired man talked aloud. Everyone else accordingly quieted.
“We have no time to waste, my fellow clan members. We must decide on what to do to finish the war once and for all,” he said. His slow, powerful voice echoed and filled the space around them. All the while, Losha leisurely walked along, slowly aiming for the center herself. “We have spent far too much on this conflict already. Lives, capital, peace of mind. All has been sacrificed. We need to resolve ourselves and deliver unto Henron the firmest of our answers! Now, who shall have the floor first tonight? Who shall set the frame of this discussion? Who shall offer their wisdom in putting an end to this war?”
“I believe that is a role best left to me,” Losha declared as she was halfway towards the podium. Within an instant, the entire focus of the room shifted upon her. A brief wave of whispers swept over the Tabran.
“Sa? And who are you?” the man at the podium asked, squinting harshly at the serialist. She stepped up to the platform until she was but a few meters away, then she stopped.
“I am Losha Holvate Sventa.” A rush of murmurs flooded the chamber as people looked left and right at one another talking hurriedly beneath their breaths.
“Y-you? You are Losha Holvate? But how are you- Where have you...?” The speaker could but stare at her, dumbfounded, deprived of all his former eloquence. To her left, out of the corner of her eye, she saw two figures rise from their seats.
“Losha?!” cried a man. “Losha, is that truly you?” Harle and Lesia were standing straight up, leaning forward, practically falling over the next row. Lesia held one hand tightly on her son’s arm while the other covered her mouth. Even at that distance, her tears were plainly visible. Losha turned around and addressed them directly.
“Indeed it is, as you can see,” she smiled. “However, as much joy as it brings me to see you all, there are serious matters that need to be discussed. That is why I am here tonight. The moderator is correct; we have little time to act if we want to end the war. Please, wait a while longer, just until we sort this out.”
“Losha,” said someone else, a woman whose seras frequency she recognized. “What happened to you?” asked Prime Lead Delri. “After that avalanche in the Ganglan Pass, you vanished. We had to return without you, and we never heard back from Core Lead Liveta Henron. Reports of your capture, however, surfaced thereafter.”
To Losha’s surprise, all the Sventa Prime Leads were among the Tabran members tonight, although Levias refused to meet her gaze.
“If we may,” said the moderator. “A retelling of your activities for the past would help us understand your abrupt yet significant return?” The room gradually hushed as Losha recounted her previous situation. She did not mind as it was not irrelevant to larger topic at hand.
“I was taken prisoner for 47 days, held captive in Navaran. There I bided my time until I escaped yesterday. I waited until elements of the Henron rebellion were ready to overthrow the current power structure. Just this morning, I set out across the plains to return as speedily as I could here, to Sevia.” A cascade of low, mumbling voices bounced around the chamber, but the moderator held out his hand to the crowd. Eventually, they were silent and still.
“A rebellion, you say? And you left amid all the chaos?”
“No,” Losha said, shaking her head. “I took part in the uprising. I was there to storm the place where Heigon Henron held court. With half of the Henron army, we routed the old leadership. Needless to say, Heigon is no more.”
“Why would you ever aid the enemy of our people?!” the moderator asked in alarm, taking a step back.
“Because they are not our enemies anymore.”
Rancorous discord began as the Tabran fell into confusion. Multitudes of voices clashed with each other while gestures of every variety flew back and forth. Losha frowned as they grew animated yet disorganized. She’d thought things in the Tabran would have been more orderly. She looked up at the ceiling, observing a great chandelier fixed overhead; this gave her an idea. With a careful, elaborate kinetic series, she blew a draft past each candle. In a single moment, the whole chamber darkened. Shortly after that, however, she replaced the flames with glowing, serialized orbs. They carried the same hue as her seras, thus the room was tinted blue. In shock and amazement, the Tabran settled down. Losha took a few more steps and turned towards the seats.
“As I understand it, I have the floor. If that is indeed the case, I need you to listen,” she said. “You wanted a way to end this struggle. I have found it. The new government of Henron has no will to continue the fight against Sventa. Heigon was the original architect of this conflict; the rebels, however, intend to quit the war altogether. It is their wish to negotiate a cease-fire, resuming the work I was supposed to accomplish before my mishap at the Ganglan Pass. Henron would no longer be our enemy. Despite these events, all is not yet finished. The rebels still face resistance from Heigon’s loyalists. Left unchecked, they could regain control of Henron and once again launch attacks against Sventa. That is why we have been called to ally with the rebels, to put a stop to people just as bloodthirsty as Heigon. One final threat remains between us and peace. I speak before you all and ask you this: will you join me, Sventa? Will you stand by me for this, the last of our battles?”
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