Paperwork. There was plenty of it. The smell of ink and candlewax mixed nicely with the scents of paper and herb tea, making the task at hand less of an antagonizing chore. The company wasn't half bad either; Master Bestor had plenty of remarks to make and little things to share and tell but the Ouginak's talks about events from the world outside of the office made Joris Jurgen long for adventure rather than read or answer letters sent to the royal court.
His life was all but dull. For centuries he had rolled from one adventure into another but he had seen much and it became more and more difficult to be enticed. The stack of envelopes and parchments on the table before him only made that truth more clear and it was a hard pill to swallow. He was bored, as simple as that and this day spent in the office only made that feeling worse. While Bestor rambled on about the parlor he likes to visit in one of Bonta's many harbor pubs, Joris' mind wandered to more exciting times.
How long ago was it? Almost a year, surely.
It was quite an adventure with the Brotherhood of the Tofu, Justice Knight and the female Eliatrope ambassador. It was one of those things he didn't imagine to experience in his life but he was sucked right into chasing after the Protector of Javian, an old champion of Bonta; Jiva. When she kidnapped the Eliatrope infant Chibi and his draconic twin and wanted to exchange them for the six Eliatrope Dofus, who would have guessed it would kickstart an epic journey to the uninhabitable island of Zinit, the Eliatropes' grounded vessel and the hidden dimension of Emrub? He sure didn't.
The journey had been educational with information about this world, its history and its connection to the elusive Eliatrope people, but he also learned more about those he considered enemies, friends or allies. Bonds were forged or made stronger with the experiences he shared; a reassuring thought as the whole adventure was a mess, no matter thrilling. At least he thought back to it fondly and it only made him eager for the next adventure, whenever it would happen. Hopefully soon, before these letters would kill him with boredom.
Joris released a small sigh as he reminded himself of the work he had to do. The life of being a royal messenger and a representative of a powerful nation was splendorous indeed… He wasn't impressed by his own sarcasm as he reached for the desk to fish another letter from it, the want for the day to be over growing heavier by the minute. Perhaps he could do something later to bring a kick back into his life.
It was easy to be distracted while boredom was breathing down his neck. His attention dropped like a brick when Bestor rose from his chair and audibly stretched with a grunt, his joints popping. "This is quite a mental workout, isn't it?" the Ouginak asked while he reached into his vest and wandered through the office towards the window, humming a little tune until he got what he was looking for. "Do you mind?" He tilted the pipe he held in his paw while his floppy ears rose a little to accompany his smile, his eyes and attention on the small master to get his approval.
Joris shook his head after he eyed the pipe," no, go ahead."
Bestor opened the window before he once more reached into his vest to prepare his pipe with some tobacco and light a match, taking his time with it to enjoy the little break he decided to take. He watched the view of the city as he puffed on the pipe to allow the match's flame to light the tobacco, seeming to be in his own little world until his ears perked up with his fuzzy eyebrows and furry mustache and he tilted his head a little curiously. Something was happening in the courtyard of the palace. He watched a little longer while he dragged on his pipe with a few quick puffs before flicking the extinguished match out of the window. "It seems the king has visitors."
His mumbling was clear enough to be heard by Joris and cause him to look up from the letter he held, observing the Ouginak and the smoke which escaped from his wet black nose. Visitors? Such was nothing out of the ordinary but the fact the Ouginak mentioned it aloud was a little peculiar. He slipped off his chair when Bestor glanced his way and beckoned him over with a sideward tilt of his head, the Terrier's attention returning to the outside world and the taste of his tobacco.
Red, black, and gold. Joris' eyes narrowed after he got onto the windowsill and peered into the courtyard below, seeing the visitors Bestor mentioned. The color palettes were foreboding indeed, belonging to Bonta's rival nation. It was but a small group donned in Brakmar's colors but no matter the numbers, it was concerning to learn Brakmar had sent someone.
"Oliver is going to have his hands full with that lot," Bestor smirked after the Lord Chamberlain of the Bontarian king appeared in the courtyard to greet the visitors and have them state their business, intrigued by what may unfold. "I wonder who they are. Four soldiers and two diplomats, maybe?" he asked before arching a brow as Joris retreated back to his chair rather than watch with him," at least it isn't His Royal Highness himself."
"I reckon we will find out soon enough."
Bestor looked back outside when Joris hinted on patience instead of assuming, both guessing they would learn about the visitors' identities and reasons for coming to Bonta eventually. Bestor was a part of Theron Sheran Sharm's council while Joris was the king's faithful advisor and a representative of this very nation. They would get involved, some way or another and perhaps sooner than expected.
The tobacco in Bestor's pipe wasn't even close to being used up when a knocking on the door sounded and the door handle turned, the white-haired and pompous looking chamberlain soon appearing in the doorway. He stood with his nose pointed upward as he took in the office space before his expression grew a little anxious after he caught sight of the small master seated by the desk. "I'm pleased to find you where you are supposed to be, Joris, rather than needing to chase after you through the whole palace," he said as he crossed the threshold with a sweeping stride, keeping his composure quite well even though he sounded like he was in a hurry.
"Oliver, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
The Enutrof rapidly tapped trice against the top of the desk with his short scepter to claim Joris' attention when the master didn't look up from the letter he was reading, knowing full well Joris didn't always take him seriously due to his strict nature and stiffness. "I need your assistance with an urgent matter, immediately," Oliver explained after he finally met the master's gaze hidden within the shadow of his hood," I have two unannounced envoys of the Brakmarian royal court buzzing around the palace and I refuse to bring them before His Majesty until absolute safety is assured."
Bestor left the view and sunlight behind to walk over towards the desk and have a seat on one of the corners to lean into the conversation, his pipe clenched between his teeth. "Two envoys is quite a number for Brakmar," he added, stating the obvious.
"Precisely," Oliver huffed," and the fact they have an armed escort is not to be taken lightly. I, therefore, ask of you to inquire these envoys about the reason behind their visit so I can properly arrange an audience for them with Theron. Can I entrust this to you, Joris?"
"Of course." Joris nodded, fairly used to handling visitors in such ways. Besides, he was no stranger to interactions with Brakmar, having dealt with their politics and woes many times before. It is quite possible he has met these two envoys before. He tugged on his mantle to be decent after he got off the chair and signaled for the chamberlain to lead him to the visitors, the raising of Bestor's pipe a quiet wishing of good luck after Joris glanced his way to see what he would do. He wasn't invited and he would therefore continue working, as boring as it was to do such on his own.
Oliver was quick to traverse the halls after Joris followed him out of the office, a hurry present in his step. He didn't seem worried but he obviously wanted this to be dealt with quickly. The last time Brakmar visited Bonta was a downright mess and an enormous pressure on the palace staff. It even ended in disaster with the whole assassination attempt, if it were true.* The word of the Brakmarian prince was at times questionable with his proneness to overreact.
Joris soon enough entered a side room in which Oliver had herded the visitors, coming face to face with the envoys the chamberlain was eager to dump on him. He frowned ever so slightly when he didn't recognize the one who turned to him the moment he appeared in the doorway and entered the room, their gazes meeting shortly.
Her eyes were as golden as the shoulder armor, belt buckle and the high heels of the tall boots she wore but surely not as warm in tone. The look in her eyes was sharp and judgmental when she looked the master up and down, obviously not impressed by what she saw if the narrowing of her eyes, the raising of a nostril and the crinkle it caused across her petite nose were any indication. Not an all too surprising reaction when Brakmar was involved, even on Bontarian soil.
With the Brakmarian woman was a man, his face hidden behind a gold trimmed white mask which completely covered his face, only giving away a faint hint of his eyes. His brown wavy hair was slickly tied back into a ponytail but his natural curl was rebellious and refused to stay in place, a few strands doing as they pleased. While his female companion was dressed in various hues of red and brown, he was dressed in mostly black, a cloak draped around his shoulders.
He looked familiar, or so Joris thought to himself after he examined the envoys, trying to recall where he may have seen this Brakmarian before. He was no Rogue, no… His mask was special, like that of the rare Masqueraiders which linger on the brink of extinction, but a little fancier. It was surprising to meet a Masqueraider, let alone one in service of Brakmar. Didn't he chase this man across the rooftops after he caused havoc in the Bontarian throne room almost two years ago, or was it someone else? He had to withhold his suspicions for now but he wouldn't ignore them either.
The tension in the room was heavy but Joris was the one to break it with a quiet and not fully meant "good morning" before he closed the distance between himself and the visitors, the four Brakmarian soldiers in the back of the room not intimidating him. The tall woman and her slightly shorter companion straightened their backs to witness his approach, not uttering a word. "I am Joris Jurgen, advisor to His Majesty Theron Sheran Sharm. I am meeting you on his behalf until your intentions are made clear."
"Yes… the famed Master Jurgen," the woman with blood red lips said while she looked down at him with the same expression as before," what an honor." She didn't make an attempt to hide her sarcasm but she was quick to bury it by adding her own introduction," I am Timinne Lecreft, in service of House Rosessen and its Pasdevillet militia, and I am here on behalf of His Royal Highness, Prince Ernaldus of Brakmar**."
The Pasdevillet militia. He heard of them before; their ranks mostly consisted of Brakmar loyalists and were known for their extreme measures and views. It explained her stuck-up behavior… Not that it excused it but Joris would be the better man and brush it off rather than make a remark about it. "And your companion?"
Timinne shrugged when she and the Masqueraider simultaneously looked at each other after Joris asked about the masked man. "He's a royal messenger I got saddled up with," she said with a neutral expression before she turned her attention back to Joris," he doesn't talk much, but His Royal Highness trusts him well enough. It will suffice for this meeting."
No name then? Joris narrowed his eyes a little as suspicions rose before he asked," and what news do you bring from your Liege?"
"Not news," she said before she snapped her black leather clad fingers and gestured towards the Masqueraider with a beckoning of a finger before he took a parchment from within his cloak. "Negotiations," Timinne continued when the parchment was handed over to Joris, the piece of rolled up paper held together with a red silk ribbon and a wax royal seal of almost the same color.
Negotiations? Joris didn't show his reluctance when he accepted the parchment, but there was no denying it was present. That Brakmar wished to negotiate something after a year of silence was not a good omen… What could it possibly be about? Resources? The truce? He broke the wax seal to unroll the long piece of paper before he began reading the fancy lettered writing, taking it slow to not accidentally skip anything and allowing the message to sink in.
The two envoys watched closely and in silence, neither having much luck with reading the master's reaction. The shadow of his hood concealed his face well while his small body was still. There was a light quiver, however, the white tufts which sprang up from the sides of his hood trembling ever so slightly as if he was suddenly tense or tightly wound while reading the parchment. The paper slipped through his fingers as he brought his attention back to the beginning of the writing and read it once more, though faster this time and a little rushed.
There was a long and heavy silence after he reached the end of the text a second time, his eyes resting on the signature of the Brakmarian prince before he looked up to the two envoys, Timinne in particular. The look in his eyes had hardened, a seriousness having washed over him. "I will have to discuss this matter with the king before any negotiations can continue," he said with a rougher voice than usual, his eyes no longer visible as he had intentionally tilted his head down though Timinne could feel them burn on her," these are unusual terms, not to mention peculiar."
"I am aware," she admitted," His Royal Highness and his council will allow the time for any preparations or discussions needed to hold these negotiations, but a word of caution… Ernaldus isn't known for his patience, and neither am I."
Joris knew about the prince's impatience all too well but he didn't have much care for it at the very moment, having other worries pressing down on him. He allowed the parchment to roll itself up before he left the room without a word said and turned to one of the guards posted in the hallway, lingering on the threshold. "Take Miss Lecreft and her envoy to the guest quarters and see to their needs," he instructed the guard before he glanced back over a shoulder and locked eyes with the female visitor to speak to her," Bonta may be able to join the negotiations before the day is over but I cannot answer for the other party involved. We will keep you up to date on any changes in circumstances but I suggest you make yourself comfortable in the meantime. You may be here longer than expected."
A sound of annoyance escaped Timinne as she looked away with a following sigh before she dismissively wove with her left hand towards the master. "Very well," she said with held back frustration, not wishing to stay for longer than needed in Bonta but it seemed she wasn't that lucky," I hope your reputation of being fast does not disappoint."
He couldn't withhold on glaring at the black haired woman but was wise enough to hide it from her or anyone else present. He abruptly turned on a heel and left the room without a proper or respectful goodbye, leaving the Brakmarian envoys in the care of the guards while he would attend to more pressing matters than the woman's discontentment. His mind was racing, his senses dulling as if he was inside a fishbowl; the world around him was suddenly distant and hollow.
His composure dropped once he rounded a few corners and was by himself in a long corridor, his hurried pace slowing down. He stood still for a moment before the crinkling of paper chased the pressing silence away. His small hands tightly clenched into fists and frumpled the parchment, its written contents the cause of the flaring anger he felt burning in his chest and behind his eyes. It was an anger he barely managed to hide from the aggravating visitor after he read the message, the struggle to keep his composure having tested his resolve.
The side of one of his fists met the wall with a cushioned thud as he lashed out with a lowered head and bared teeth, hitting the wall hard before he ground his fist firmer against the stone, the pain not bothering him.
Brakmar had grown bold and decided to involve Bonta in matters Joris wanted absolutely no part in. They dared and he was supposed to swallow and quietly accept this revolting idiocy? Preposterous!... But he knew it to be true, he knew he had to accept this as part of his duties and take it as it would come, no matter that he didn't wish for it. He was aware of what was at stake if he didn't oblige and he was certain his king knew of the consequences as well. There was no backing out of what Brakmar started… and it made the master's blood boil.
Curse that nation to bits.
"He dodges the blocker!"
The ecstatically loud voice echoed over the golden grain fields, the backyard of the Crunchy Gobball inn having turned into a small Gobbowl field with only two players. Yugo, the young Eliatrope king, was circling around Adamaï while holding a small homemade Gobbowl ball behind his back, trying to keep it away from the dragon. It was a friendly match between two brothers, though neither was truly playing according to the rules, the use of Zaaps and shapeshifting tolerated and allowed.
Their audience was their little brother Chibi, the toddler sitting on a blanket in the grass with a few toys surrounding him. The toys held no interest for him, his large brown eyes glued on the game his older brothers were playing as he intently watched the soft looking ball while suckling on two of his fingers.
The Eliatrope children were so enthralled by the imaginary match that they didn't take notice of someone entering the village of Emelka and make their way to the inn Yugo and his siblings called home, which was a pity indeed because the young king had grown to respect and admire the visitor dressed in blue.
Joris climbed the steps of the elevated patio of the inn while he took in the surroundings, his wooden mallet resting over his shoulder and across his back. He approached the inn's entrance with a certain caution, finding but a few guests to be present while they enjoyed a meal or a drink. He didn't pay them any heed, instead searching for someone in particular. He soon found him, the man with a hunched back and a thick long mustache serving a customer with a broad smile. He didn't notice Joris at first but when he did, his eyes grew with the high raising of his brows.
"Master Joris." Alibert sounded baffled to see the Bontarian master in his humble abode, not having been told about him coming by today. An unexpected visit perhaps? "What a surprise. Can I offer you anything?" He towered over Joris with a welcoming smile after he walked over to meet him, almost beaming. He rather not think ill of Joris' sudden appearance or assume his reasons for visiting were of the darker sort, having nothing but respect for the small master. His children were fond of him, one more than the others and a visit from Joris was long overdue; he was happy to see him.
"My thanks, Alibert, but I will have to decline. Another time perhaps." The tone in Joris' voice was weary and caused Alibert's smile to waver ever so slightly. "I, unfortunately, do not have the time to stay longer than necessary. I wish to speak with Yugo, Adamaï, and Alys; there's is something of great importance which needs to be discussed. I believe I heard your sons playing outside so I do not need to ask if they are present. Alys, however…"
"She's in the kitchen," Alibert said after Joris subtly inquired about her whereabouts and pointed with a thumb to an open doorway in the back of the room, his eyebrows somewhat furrowed. If Joris wanted to talk with those three in particular then his visit was indeed not as good or casual as Alibert had hoped for," go on in if you like."
Joris nodded in thanks before he brushed past the Enutrof and made his way over to the kitchen, hearing the clattering of wooden dishes and soft talking. It pleased him to know Alys was where he hoped her to be. It would have greatly complicated the matter at hand if she was attending to her duties elsewhere and he had to go look for her. He didn't praise his stroke of luck, though… His confidence began to waver when he entered the kitchen, the mallet he carried suddenly feeling far heavier than usual. He truly didn't wish to be here, not like this.
He easily spotted her standing by the sink with her back turned towards him, a dragon whelp sitting perched on her shoulder. She was having a one-sided conversation with the young Grougaloragran while doing the dishes and watched the boys play outside through the window in front of her, the tone of her voice calm and natural.
Joris was about to make his presence known with a soft clearing of his throat when Grougaloragran suddenly snorted, huffed and sneezed while clinging onto the Eliatrope's shoulder to not fall off, his pointy wings rapidly flapping. The little dragon frantically wriggled his snout and furiously rubbed it with a disgruntled grumbling after Alys playfully blew some of the bubbly foam at him. She softly laughed when another adorable sneeze escaped him before she apologetically but gently nudged him with the side of her head, though Grougal wasn't fully amused as he vocally pouted with a small snarl. He turned himself around on her shoulder to take off though remained put when his large round eyes spotted the small master. They stared at each other for what were but a few seconds until Grougaloragran hissed at Joris, sounding agitated but he didn't engage.
Alys frowned at the sudden change in the dragon's behavior before noticing he wasn't hissing at her but at something or someone else behind her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and past the whelp to find Joris slowly setting his mallet down to not pose a threat to Grougal, the master not wanting another faceful of fire from the dragon's fiery breath. "Joris?" She quietly uttered his name and blinked with her round eyes which were full of wonder and mild confusion, obviously surprised to see him.
He smiled at her while keeping an eye on the agitated dragon which sat protectively on the Eliatrope's shoulder, the small creature not seeming to be pleased with his presence in the kitchen. He nodded to confirm he was truly there after Alys sounded uncertain and said in light jest," an ambassador doing the dishes while charming a dragon. Now I have truly seen everything."
Alys quickly retracted her hands from the warm soapy water after Joris made her self-aware, an embarrassed chuckle leaving her. "It was my turn," she explained while she nervously wiped her hands off on her robes and tried not to fall victim to becoming bashful, not certain how exactly to react to Joris' sudden appearance. It had been a while since last she saw him... Her smile and the reddening of her cheeks remained when she glanced at the growling whelp, giving him another gentle nudge with her cheek," be nice, you know Joris means no harm. Why don't you go to Chibi instead and play a little?"
Grougaloragran huffed in defiance to not be told what to do, stubbornly perched on her shoulder with a grumbling which was rather adorable instead of menacing. It faded the longer he was watched and waited on by the two ambassadors, his confidence shrinking as his annoyance grew. He dove off her shoulder with a single beating of his wings to not stay a second longer, flying into the yard through the open back door and homing in on the Gobbowl ball which spun through the air after Adamaï tossed it.
"I'm sorry, he still has his jealous streaks and anger issues," Alys said before she visibly cringed when a ruckus erupted outside after Grougal took his frustrations out on the ball, his older brothers shouting at him to let go while Chibi could be heard crying with laughter. The female Eliatrope pulled a face while she listened to her little brothers arguing, snarling and laughing, a little embarrassed by the outcome of sending Grougal off and Joris witnessing it. She gave him a small smile before she reached for her long sleeve-like gloves to put them on, saying while she slipped an arm through and pulled the glove up," it's good to see you again…"
"Likewise." He sounded sincere and he was, but truth be told… He had rather not seen her again. "You are looking well," he continued, internally lecturing himself for not bringing up his reason for coming to Emelka. He was stalling and struggling to do what he set out to do, which frustrated him to no end. He wasn't here willingly and it felt incredibly wrong.
Her smile grew softer after he slid a compliment her way and cloaked his dismay fairly well, his words and presence calming her nerves a little. "Thank you," she said as she lingered by the sink, curious as to why Joris came by for a visit. It wasn't often Joris would come to Emelka. Did he come to see her or was there a more political reason behind him standing in this kitchen? The boys' birthday wasn't for another few months and she visited Bonta not too long ago to check on her Dofus and her slumbering brother. To think he missed her and wanted to see her felt a little out of character for the master, or maybe she just didn't dare to think such could be true. Her own thoughts were messing with her and it made her blush unintentionally.
While Alys tried to guess the reasons, Joris was wavering the more he watched her little reactions. He took a deep breath to remind himself he had a duty attend to, no matter the complications or personal involvements. He lay a hand on the wooden mallet beside him before he said with a formal tone in his voice," I come with bad news, Alys. His Majesty Theron Sheran Sharm requests the presence of Yugo, Adamaï and yourself in Bonta… especially you." He paused to stop himself from going into deeper detail and from balling his hand into a fist. "I have been asked to not discuss the matter until you are safely within the borders of Bonta. It is a very delicate situation and needs to be handled with utmost care. I hope you understand…"
She was quiet after she listened to him, the smile she held before now gone from sight. She seemed thoughtful and worried but spoke clearly and without hesitation after she gave Joris a nod," if your king requests for our presence then we will comply." Her trust in the master was unbreakable; if he couldn't discuss something with her until a later point then she would be patient and not question it. Joris already hinted on whatever awaited her and her brothers wasn't exactly of the good sort, which was a hint enough. "I will inform Yugo and Ad," she said while she absentmindedly stroked the edge of the counter, distracted by her own thoughts. She was certain her brothers wouldn't object to visiting Bonta and finally meet the Bontarian king in person, one of greatest allies Alys managed to gather for her people, but… she had hoped their first meeting wouldn't be carried upon a wave of bad news. What could it possibly be?
"Alys."
The saying of her name stopped her from heading towards the back door, the tone it was spoken in urgent. She reluctantly looked to Joris after the way he said her name made a shiver go up her spine, meeting his large eyes before he tilted his head down to let his hood block her from his sight.
"This day will test your loyalties," he said hushed," I cannot prepare you for what is to come, no matter how hard I wish to try. Whatever happens…" His voice trailed off before he pushed his shoulders back and straightened up, standing more confidently to look at her rather than hide in his hood. "Try and prepare yourself for the worst," he said, unable to finish what he wanted to say previously. He didn't have the heart for it, for it weren't just her loyalties which would be tested today. His were too.
He saw her hesitate while she mulled what he carefully shared with her over, her gaze cast down to the floor. She had every right to be worried or to be suspicious of what awaited her in Bonta but she didn't allow it to control her. She showed Joris a reassuring smile, one he had seen many times before and knew was nothing but a mask she hid her true feelings behind, before she stepped outside to talk with her brothers, leaving the master by himself and his quiet frustrations.
To be continued.
*: See Traces, chapter 07.
**: Ernaldus of Brakmar is the non-canon name for Prince Brakmar, made up by me for writing purposes.