Lord's Peace

Telamon scanned the beautifully lit ball room with his eyes, dissecting it into components and filing them away. The hall was teeming with nobles both minor and major, merchants of varying origin, and even a select few respected craftsmen had managed an invitation. The Lord’s Peace, as they said, would include all down to the lowest man. And what an useful peace that was, too. His research hadn't been viable for its entire duration - too much magic going on, too much surveillance. The Empire didn't exactly like planar research.

They mingled together mostly in pre-arranged groups, though - surprisingly - there seemed to be some genuine intermingling even so. Craftsmen, merchants and nobles laughing together, patting each other on the back as if they were old friends. A surprising sight indeed. The archmagister of the Empire sat on her elevated dais, surrounded by advisors and council members, safe in her power. She was said to be the most powerful mage in the entire Empire.

Despite the seemingly good mood in the hall, Telamon still scanned. Someone else would’ve been satisfied with achieving peace, choosing to savour the victory too early - and missing a twist in the clockwork, perhaps. Telamon intended to have none of that. So he scanned the crowds, waiting for that speech, that incident, something to suddenly change the mood. After all, a peaceful peace gathering was simply too good to be believed. It was then that his eyes found purchase on something he hadn’t expected to find there. A streak of sky-blue robe here, the flash of green, mocking eyes there, and suddenly Telamon knew what he had just seen.

He saw a group of nobles subconsciously parting their group, giving way to one of the most dangerous magisters in the Empire. So Virego, a young human though she may be, was not an enemy to be taken lightly. Strange, how he still considered her a foe - this was, after all, a peace gathering. He found bile gathering in his throat as she approached, a burst of hot rage suddenly filling his lungs. He fought it down barely, battering the fury down until it retreated into the dark corners of his heart.

“This…” said So, gesturing with her delicate arms, “was well done. Peace suits you well, I think.” Of course, her eyes said something else entirely.

“It was necessary.” Telamon replied curtly. “But I do not think you need to congratulate me just yet. The night is young still, and the peace fragile as of yet.” He paused. “We wouldn’t want it to be broken, would we?”

So flared her eyes dangerously. It was a trick of illusion, of course, but nonetheless Telamon found it hard looking into those eyes, so bright and luminous, as if an endless well of power had settled behind them. He turned his gaze towards the crowd, frowning, red-hot anger swelling up in his chest. Her party tricks always had seemed like bravado. He hadn’t known the truth of it until a month ago.

“War is war, isn’t it?” So finally said, her voice perfectly neutral. “I did what I had to in order to survive.”

Telamon rounded on her, his eyes bulging from sheer rage. “That was not survival! That was cruelty, carelessness, and pure evil all bundled up into one package. You are a contemptible creature!”

Telamon panted, his finger pointing at her in stark accusation. He hadn’t intended to say all of that. But there it was. Virego, however, seemed to have expected the outburst - or perhaps she simply controlled her reaction.

“Surely you don't mean to insult a venerable guest of this peace gathering,” Virego finally said, her eyes taking a dangerous slant.

“And what if I do?”

For a moment they stood there, a magical tension in the air between them. So was the naturally taller of them, and Telamon had to peer up towards her. The air rumbled with a low tumult. She suddenly seemed to fill the entire ball room.

In the end it was Telamon who stumbled away, gasping for air. For a moment, he’d felt… no, that was impossible. Alseta! It was impossible. He glanced towards Virego in something akin to sheer panic. For a moment he’d felt a power from her that eclipsed even the archmagister’s own immeasurable strength.

“Now you know why you never even stood a chance,” said So, her voice entirely neutral. Uncaring, as if all this didn't mean a whit to her.

“Not back at that nameless border village. And definitely not here.”

Telamon said nothing. He slowly gathered his breath and turned away, half-tempted to simply step through a dimensional door into his own study. But he had something more important to do. Saying not a word, the elven mage melted into the crowd. The archmagister had to know. Even if it cost him the rest of his reputation.

Pushing past a surprised noblewoman, Telamon arrived at the grand steps leading up to the dais. They were almost deserted except for a pair of guards, their armour warded against magic.

"Entry only to guests of the archmagister," one of the guards said in a thick accent.

"I'm a guest. I've an urgent matter to discuss with her. Let me through, please."

The other guard pulled the first one over, whispering something to him and nodding towards the Archmagister.

"You're to be let through." The first guard intoned slowly. Telamon gathered up his robe and hurried up the steps as quickly as he dared, feeling the blood rushing in his ears.

"Archmagister! A word with you, if you please." Telamon said, entering into the palanquin.

The archmagister, a stately, neatly dressed woman, smiled a lopsided grin.

"If you'll excuse us." She gestured towards her attendants, who quickly left the area. Telamon gulped down his anxiety and began.

"You know already, don't you?" Telamon said quietly.

The Archmagister blinked, but kept on smiling that lopsided grin.

"You know that the woman, the war criminal So Virego, is the most powerful mage in this entire court."

The archmagister seemed to relax. "My, how bluntly put. You must be flustered."

"Yes."

"So Virego. A wonderfully gifted mage, indeed." Telamon narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling inexplicably uncomfortable. As if having a premonition of some sort.

"She told me you'd say something like that, of course," she continued, smiling, "and do you know what else she told me?"

Oh. Oh, no. "What, your Excellency?"

"This morning we confiscated a number of highly suspicious materials from your... basement. Alongside this." She flashed a piece of charred paper in front of Telamon's eyes. He knew immediately what it was. The charred remains of his last summoning. Damn! Telamon cursed. I knew i should've been more careful.

"I thank you for the part you played in making the Lord's Peace a reality," she said sadly, "but a lasting peace always needs a scapegoat." A pair of hands caught his wrists in a tight grip, interlocking them between his back. A moment later he felt the magic-resistant handcuffs being locked around them. Telamon stared at the Archmagister in wide-eyed disbelief. He'd been had.

Author's Note

Just something I wrote up in an hour. The prompt was, simply, there's been a huge peace agreement in an empire and you meet your worst enemy, who did something horrible in the past to you and/or your friends, during that peace gathering. Hope you enjoy.