Chapter 5

So it is that the leaders of two nations meet to confer. How will they address the threat that is the Ki'int?

"Many say it is the 1^st impressions that make a difference. I however, disagree entirely, as while important, a 1^st impression means nothing in the face of the last” - R’diochaus of The Starhand.

The Akbari were not like the others of their kind, no not in the slightest. For while the Sezenie and the Corh’sh dwarves were joyful, merry, and with great fiery tempers, the Akbari were not. No, rather their clan held a certain measure of fear from the rest of Elszris, a fear that had once been considered so great that it was a threat simply to near it. Now however, the Ki’int had cast their shadow ‘cross the world and so had faded the legacy of the Akbari dwarves

Or rather, that was what Elszris thought. It amazed him really; it amazed and appalled him that the folk of Elszris truly thought that the Ki’int could so easily snuff out the Akbari. For unlike their kin the Akbari were colder, sharper and brutally efficient in their stubborn dealings. Yet, while many dwarves were stubborn, none so much as the Akbari, as it was said that once an Akbari took stance, not even 6 falling mountains could make them move.

Strangely, they possessed another trait, which set them apart from other dwarves: they were all in their own right powerful in their ability to adapt. This, coupled with their unique physiology, made them deadly beings. In this way it struck G’hros as incredibly amusing that the rest of Elszris thought his kind long dead by the hands of the Ki’int. Hands that used methods that his kind had long honed to perfection, hands that could never best theirs.

With this in mind, G’hros walked through the castle, heading for the chambers of the queen’s knight: Raal. He was to wake the man and head with him to the meeting that was to soon adjourn in the main hall. As he traversed the corridors of the castle. The dwarven merchant, though none but Mariat knew his origins, pondered the discoveries of the previous night.

They were indeed interesting discoveries, he thought. Though, he found the concept of their existence rather displeasing. Not that much of anything truly pleased the stout man. “Never can there be simplicity in the realms of politics it seems,” while he cursed this very fact, he also found such to be exceedingly useful.

After all, it was far easier to blackmail and deceive then it was to weasel one’s way into the minds of others. No, he supposed that while deceit was in its own way despicable, it was too useful a tool to discard. Still, he scowled at the whole situation, not that this was at all odd, a scowl was quite near to his typical expression.

As his soar expression diminished he reached the door to the knight’s chambers. Quickly straightening his elaborate garments, the dwarf pounded on the door, uncaring if the man still slept, calling out only a moment after “Wake sir Raal! There is a meeting to which we must depart, quickly or you’ll make me late.” There was nothing pleasant in G’hros’ tone, and Raal heard that quite well as he forcibly rose from his sheets.

“Noted G’hros, it will take me but a moment,” Raal did well to suppress the annoyance in his voice.

With haste, the knight donned his clothing, deciding against most armor and placing only his chainmail beneath his garments, and carrying Raielna at his right hip. With that he took a deep breath, checked himself in the mirror, and corrected his hair briefly. Then he pushed open the door and found himself an eyeful of annoyed merchant. ‘G’hros’ he frowned slightly and the merchant responded with a “Humph” and then turned and strode towards the main hall. Raal grudgingly followed the stout man whose steps were quick and wit was quicker.

A short time before they were to reach the hall, G’hros began to address Raal “So, you returned from the southern field, or were the skirmishes closer to Jen’s dear capital here in Raxis?" Raal couldn’t help but smile a little despite himself. The merchant's mention of the capitals name brought forth many memories from his childhood, not to mention training as despite his not having been birthed in the capital, it was his home more than the small village in which he'd been born. It was such a lush place, full of life. Bordered by a river and surrounded by farm lands, forests, and wooded plains. It was truly a place of peace and beauty. Yet, still he found his small smile diminish, knowing that were the Ki’int not stopped, the beauty he had grown up around would be permanently marred by the violence and destruction wrought in their path.

“Raal!” the knight snapped out of his reverie and noticed that he had stopped walking. G’hros was up the hall looking back at him with an annoyed frown. “Do they not teach your ilk manners? What of the knight's code? Bah,” he turned and moved to trudge away, but Raal wouldn’t have it and caught up quickly. “Quiet merchant, your own manners are no better.” The merchant did not respond, but Raal could see the man’s neck tense.

It was quiet for the duration of their walk following that and Raal found that he was looking down at the shorter man of 5’3. He certainly made up for his height with weight,‘damn fat merchants’. He disliked the salesmen, always so pompous, always scheming, and conniving for more, more, more, and more. He couldn’t stand it, it made him almost want to spit on the fellow before him, but he didn’t.

“Raal,” again G’hros called his name, the man’s head was turned to look at the knight and then he nodded it towards the doorway. Raal did not respond but passed G’hros; they had reached the entrance to the main hall. Raal stopped, but G’hros would not be impeded so he simply stepped around the knight as he moved into the hall. Raal on the other hand was gazing at the room’s architecture, it always amazed him how the royal architects had constructed this place and since it had been so long it struck him more than it otherwise might have.

Huge golden arches with a ceiling that arched inwards so far that it moved back downwards at several points to form curved and rather shapely artificial stalactites. It brought a smile to his face as he saw the intricately designed creatures, which danced upon, curled around, and embroidered the ceiling and walls of the hall. If he had to put it in a word, he would have called it…magnificent.

“Ah, Sir Raal,” the king’s voice reached him in that moment and Raal looked to his king, his eyes averting from the magnificence of the hall, and bowing only to rise and approach the regal man.

“I am glad you could make it here so early in the morn,” the king said, managing to keep his smile. Raal frowned slightly; Jen had been so perturbed just the past day, what had raised his mood? “Why do you look so discouraged Raal?”

The knight shook his head; “I am simply confused as to how you could be so jolly after such…terrible news.”

Jen’s face lit up and he winked subtly. G’hros himself sighed having already taken a seat in one of the many chairs laid out. There were seventeen of the gilded chairs, he noted. Raal wondered whom else the king expected. For as he saw it only five of the seventeen seats could be filled: Mariat, G’hros, Jen, Monea, and himself. Jen beckoned him to sit and Raal moved to the chair across from his monarch before doing so. He felt a bit unsure of the situation.

To occupy himself, as they were obviously waiting for someone else, not to mention Mariat's absence, he studied the visage of his friends and acquaintances.

To his right side and three seats away sat G’hros, a stout man of frame that appeared to be tailored only for the mercantile life, the life of a rich man. His clothing was oddly not flamboyant, though it did speak of his rank. Most of it remained brown, though it was embroidered with gold trim and dull silvers.

Yet, despite the man’s thicker frame, G’hros’s face was terribly plump. Raal could recognize the ugliness of it, but it was certainly not meaty. It almost made G’hros look slightly miss-proportioned, that is until you discovered the merchant’s ego and nasty tendencies. All in all he could say that G’hros was like a pig in nobleman’s clothing, though much smarter of course, as his face was slightly piggish but he had angular eyes with a sharp nose similar to a beak. His mouth was usually drawn into a frown and there were lines from all the merchant’s years of grimacing laid plain 'pon his face. Raal eventually shook his head almost sadly and averted his attention from G’hros who had begun eyeing him.

Across from him sat Monea and Jen, the ruling monarchs of Moria. Jen, he could see and knew from experience, was a rather happy man with a boisterous voice and a love for feasting and the happier aspects of life. He had broad shoulders and jaw alike with many smile lines on his aging face, yet somehow Raal knew that Jen would never be a truly decrepit man. Still, despite the finery draping Jen’s neck and the green and brown regalia of the king he found himself far more…enamored by the woman who sat next to him.

Monea, he had discovered, was both striking and soft in her beauty. She was like a beautiful delicate flower that had an elegant set of spiked, spiny leaves. She was like honey, sweet and wonderful, but could clog your throat the next moment. She had a face that he found always managed to rouse…something in him. Warmth was the only word he could ever find to describe it, of course it did not entirely assist that her clothing -though not tight- was form fitting and only served to accentuate her figure. Shivering, he shook his head and took again to studying the architecture of the place, that was until the soft patting of feet reached his ears and he turned to the area of the main hall that he knew led to one of the side gates, which led out of the castle. ‘Who would be coming with so many men?’ His silent query was soon answered as Mariat walked into the room and bowed to the monarchs with a whirling arm, before he rose back to his full height.

“I present to Moria’s gracious monarchs, the Delegate Bard’s council; leaders among my people.” He moved to the side and swept his arm out as what appeared to be around seven men and women entered the room. Raal watched and as each individual entered the room he was further thrown into amazement. Their clothing was exotic and while he had initially found Mariat’s own garb to be rather fantastical, these ‘Delegates’ were utterly stunning and almost mind blowing in their displays of fashion. Yet, even as he watched, he heard the scoffing of G’hros and glanced at the merchant to see a face riddled with annoyance, it was very apparent how the man felt about these people. Raal turned back, deciding that they were very likely to be friendly people as G’hros’s tastes were certainly…skewed.

Mariat, throughout each Delegate’s entrance and subsequent seating, spoke their names in order and with a title to follow.

The first sat, a man who shone like the eastern sky, lines on his clothing connecting almost magically to form a pattern that reminded him of something he could not quite recall, “Camariet of the Eastern Wave.” Raal’s eyes widened slightly, ‘the Eastern Wave?’ The knight, though a man of combat, had also been taught in the ways of scholars --as was the custom in Moria-- and thus knew of each constellation’s name. The Eastern wave was one such constellation made of an arrangement  of seven wave-like patterns of stars that drifted and almost seemed to sway in the eastern sky on clear starry nights.

The next sat, a man once more, “Mogori, Compass in the Night.” Struck once more, Raal glanced to Jen whose eyes he found filled with a poorly veiled amazement. In contrast, Monea's expression was one of amusement.

Raal turned his attention back to this Mogori and seemed to nod, the pattern on his long clothes was obviously of the constellation simply known as the Compass. Four lines overlaid with a circle in their center; these lines started at its center and radiated out in the four directions, it was like a compass in the sky. Raal found himself almost pushed away from Mogori and did not want to look for long, the only detail he could pick up was the strange air about him, an elaborate hood, and a couple strands of midnight blue hair that escaped from therein.

Turning away he was  left with the impression that his attention was being intentionally directed elsewhere. As he did so he saw the next to enter. “Poradia Catio, The Judge.” ‘Judge indeed,’ Monea glanced at him, his thoughts betrayed him and he made sure not to catch her eye --as hard as that was-- and continued his observation. The woman Poradia possessed stern features, her clothing seemingly strictly and almost forcefully applied to her body as if they had been unwilling to cover her at all. She was not grotesque, but all the same she did not seem the sort he would want to keep around. As he had that thought he found a small laugh escape his throat, realizing he had judged her merely from appearance. The others directed their gaze briefly in his direction.

“I... my apologies,” he bowed his head, an apologetic smile on his face, he had meant no disrespect, ‘Damn puns, more trouble than they’re worth'. They continued in their procession and Raal could tell that at some point G’hros had averted his eyes from the Delegates. The names continued, titles following close behind, but following the entrance of one known as Vadarbi ‘Fury’s Cyclone’, none entered.

“…-cyclone," Mariat said before directing his words to the king and queen, "I do apologize dear Monea, Jen, but Kete, Hnanori, and Fonek had matters of the people to attend, they will not be joining us I fear. Nonetheless two of our most respected Delegates made time to join us”. Mariat appeared deeply apologetic for their lacking numbers before he gestured to the entrance the others had come through.

Then as he followed the bard's gesture, Raal found his attention completely thrown off as the 4^thDelegate entered the hall. This time, it was a woman and it was as if a spell had been cast over everyone therein --though the delegates seemed almost unfazed.

Her garb was that of a long flowing garment much like a robe, with a knee length skirt that peeked from beneath this. The flowing cloth appeared as if it was not cloth at all, but was instead the night sky embodied. A voice whispered in his mind, a familiar tone of sweet honey ‘Magic…’. Raal shivered and found the spell slowly breaking, yet still she was gorgeous, every inch as incredible as…as Monea. “Earania Codore, The All Encompassing” again a shiver down his spine, both warmth and like a spark of electricity briefly running through his veins. ‘Earania’ he would surely remember that name and the visage of flowing star blue hair, eyes which shown almost golden with their amber glow. Healthy luxurious skin and a body draped with clothing, a body he knew to be as magnificent as the rest of her. All eyes were trained on her till she sat and Mariat was forced to clear his throat with a laugh to re-gather their attention for the fifth delegate.

Raal, G’hros, and the two monarchs seemed to shiver slightly; the delegates exchanged brief glances and turned slightly in their seats. The others turned in response, wondering why they would all do such a thing. Mariat spoke “Last and unmeasured, the final council member; R’diochaus or simply: Paradox.” Raal suddenly realized the room was dead silent with anticipation, everyone was expecting something. Then footsteps resounded throughout the hall, these were somehow different from the others. The approach of this ’Paradox’ was accompanied by an aura; it was a familiar aura. In opposition to the previous feeling, this one was very…different and certainly more gradual in making its presence known. Another footfall, another, another, and then Mariat took to one knee and a nondescript individual’s foot stepped past him, its body slowly carried with it.

A figure moved into view and the whole room, including any guards and even the delegates themselves, seemed to almost freeze in time as the individual made its way to the circle. Tall, but not too tall, or was that even right? Gender was a difficulty here, but Raal looked in closer only to find that his feelings towards this individual became more complex and difficult to understand the longer he thought about them. His brow creased and he turned his eyes to ‘Paradox’s’ clothing. All color, darkness, white, and gray, there was nothing it wasn’t and yet nothing he could surely register that it was. Each step even seemed to defy…something. There was no other word for him than the name or…title? However, the thing that struck him the most was that this man was familiar to him. This had been the man from last night, the one who had delivered to him a message.

Barely realizing his actions, Raal spoke, his words the first to break the seemingly boundless silence, “Paradox?”

The figure stopped, though his frame seemed to sway slightly in all directions and waver even though it did not move at all. “Yes?” the figure’s head seemed to turn, he was addressing Raal, of this the crowd was sure and they all looked to him, fixated. Raal felt himself sweat a bit more and he cleared his throat “W-welcome to the palace, um, Paradox,” the confident knight found his voice shaky, unsteady even. It might have been the fact that Paradox’s voice itself was not determinable of the…Delegate’s gender in the least. ‘What is this person?’ he felt Monea’s mind touch his, a subtle off-shot of worry coloring it. He did not respond instead attempted to slowly conceal his inner thoughts, he didn't want to be probed now. He was relieved when she withdrew.

Paradox seemed to nod his head and Raal felt rather than saw a smile from the Paradox. Then the Delegate walked forth and in what felt like no time at all, took his seat. Raal was baffled as he turned to face the center of the meeting, his eyes unfocused, but aimed at the ground. He knew however, that one chair remained empty, Mariat’s. It did not take long for his ears to register the bard rising and walking towards the crowd.

Mariat, though Raal could not see it, had a smile on his face and was very pleased with the proceedings thus far. He was so pleased in fact that a tune escaped his melodious cords as he hummed a wistful melody. Each of his steps matched with its rhythm and then he walked into the circle, in front of his seat, turned, and bowed to them all gracefully. His voice piped up and the humming flowed into his eloquent speech “We Delegates of the Starhand Council greet you. I, Mariat Nasataea Codore of The Gilded Hands am humbly pleased to be in the presence of my own peers and the monarchs of Moria, now…” he had risen from his bow, sitting down as he finished. “…let us address the issue of these Ki’int, together that is.” Raal’s eyes widened and the king and queen just looked on in shock. G’hros however, G’hros only smirked.