THE FINAL UPDATE!! MUH HAH HAH HAAAAAAHHH!!
Disclaimer; I own nothing and never will.
I smiled when I saw Vidanric waiting for me, an equally large smile pasted on his face. He held out his arm and I took it and proceeded down the steps and onto the path toward the Royal Residence Wing. We would be dining in the Hall of West Parlor, a high ranking hall for all major foreign importances. We planned to arrive discreet and alone, without any type of pony trap or something of the like. It was some kind of hidden tradition, Vidanric told me, that the hosts are to arrive in discreet before the guest(s) of Honor.
As we walked down the path, Vidanric reviewed over the plan we had created for the feast.
"Alright. Let us review over what we planned. We have the very, almost disturbing, honor of hosting one of the greatest personages of all. Since she rarely travels herself for so long, and early, this will be all over Sartor, or the World. In keeping, it means that if we pull this off, Remalna would be very, very famous." He said it in a careful, almost foreboding tone, indicating that it was of real great significance. And it was.
"It would," I agreed. "And, we want to make sure all guests are treated fairly. 'Tis a good start for a newly reconstructed kingdom." I had not approved that Vidanric had taken this dinner more of a showcase than an act of good will, but I said nothing. In a way, he was right. No matter how warm the relation, the dinner served as a window into the dealings and hospitality of the Remalan Court.
"Now, to the plan," Vidanric said, his face absent. "Now, I want to start out with the entry. The entry is to be of a grand dealing. There is to be the whole Court, some visiting ambassadors, and some anonymous personages that she has not given to. But, she did warn that they were of very great importance. In my guess, sharing her rank. Anyway, the entry is to be grand, with trumpets and all the glory. We will follow, the Court that is, in rank behind Nuvau and her guests. . ."
"And then we will be seated, introduced by rank and the blabber, then we will start the feast, conversing about the plans to refurbish, ask questions and find insights about the rest of the world, ask about diplomacy and such, and then, dance the new Sartorian dances and enjoy the evening. I remember," I finished for him. He smiled down at me.
"You took the words right out of my mouth," he mumbled, his eyes widening with fascination. I blushed, embarrassed. I had realized that while we were talking, we had reached the steps. We slipped through the grand doors and into the resolution hall, the door behind it leading into the gallery that led down the Grand Staircase.
"We must see to the Hall, quickly," Vidanric said, taking my arm and leading the way to the door. Two footman's sprang and opened the doors, faces blank. They were the Fabricator's. We reached the gallery and I gasped at what I saw.
We leaned against the gallery and stared at the Hall, awestruck. The Hall was lined with beautiful shades and hues of red and blue and green and gold. These colors were accented by swags of fabric sheers, one toned paisleys, and silks that hung from the ceilings. The walls were bedecked with sheer white hangings, tied and tufted with cords of gold and red. There, on the tufts, were silken cords and beads that glimmered as if made from a different kind of starstone.The cushions that lined the wall near the grand fireplace were done in off whites and soft pastels of the same colors with rope trim of black. There were new exotic candle stands of teak wood, holding small, bronze canters that held incense sticks and glowing candles scattered in corners and circlets. The stands were carved with depictions of everyday life, and with flowers and curls inlaid with black and at the ends of these curls, beads were hung of red and clear. The large empire table at the center was table clothed in a gentle layer of gaudy rose. Smaller versions of the teak candle stands were placed in a bushel of crimson roses and bright green ferns in a long line in the center of the table. All of this gave a truly unique Remalan/Sartorian feel.
--
I gasped at Vidanric, who's face was blank, but the way he leaned against the banister told me that he was just as shocked as I was. I turned to him, my face troubled. "You had the Fabricator decorate her own Hall?" I asked him, looking at the bedecked dinning chamber. I turned back to him to see him watching me.
"Well. . .not really. When I saw to the decor -- and yes Mel, I did know that she arrived before we met her -- I found that her staff had already prepped this room with different articles. I was a bit dismayed, but then I realized that what was in the Hall was all Sartorian, I knew that it wasn't finished. I asked our own Palace staff to incorporate traditional Remalan items to create a fusion of two cultures. The latest fashion for hosting foreigners, I've heard." He smiled at me and added, "And since she has been in Sles Adran for the time being, a year, she probably doesn't know this style. It was developed not to long ago."
"Really?" I asked, grinning. I loved the idea of wowing the Fabricator with something that she hadn't seen before. "Good then! We shall receive the guests?" He looked down at me.
"Already taken care of. They await in the salon and we shall receive them. I'd scheduled Nuvau and her guests to arrive in at First Blue. About twenty minutes from now. We shall wait until a footman. . ." He was stopped by the sound of footsteps. He stiffened and reached subtly for the sword that wasn't at his side and then stopped. No one of real harm could get through the footmen and Guards that were stationed outside the Hall.
We turned around to greet the same footman that had taken us to the Fabricator. He smiled when he saw us, his strides easy and hand welcoming. "My lord, Lady," he said, bowing to each of us. "She will be here shortly. They have just left the State Wing minutes before. I was sent before to warn you."
"And who may I address?" Vidanric asked, voice as polite as always. The man smiled, face blissful.
"My name is Yusuf Salman, the Fabricator's own personal adviser," he said with a bow. We bowed back.
"Pleasure, Sir Salman," I answered, mind aghast. Why was the adviser running errands and taking the job as footman?
I shook off that thought when I heard Vidanric say, ". . .and, how many would there be? Can you tell me of her personal guests? We need be sure that they get the most proper care, no less." Salman only smiled.
--
"Let it come from this saying, "When Great Minds come together, they Form no less in an Fellowship. The Elite of them all," he said, face betraying no other knowledge. Vidanric straightened and frowned, forehead creased in thought. Then, his eyes grew wide, mouth slightly open as he glanced at me and rose a brow at Salman.
"Are you sure?" he said at last, when he reviewed all of it over in his mind. Salman nodded.
"True enough. She has brought them here on her own reason's, one's we cannot go against or ponder over," Salman said, shrugging a little. "But, you need not worry my lord. All they want is a good set of rooms, a hot bath, and a proper dinner. Don't be daunted by rank." Vidanric smiled at the heart-given reassurance. I stood there, not knowing how to respond to this awkward social exchange, and said nothing.
"The Elite. . .this is getting a bit out of hand. Nuvau never mentioned. . .," Vidanric said to himself, shaking his head. I glanced over at him, confused. Due to my ignorance, which still hindered me, I didn't very much understand the quote or what it meant.
"The Elite?" I asked, breaking the silence. Vidanric looked up, ready to explain when Salman put his hand up politely. Vidanric nodded at him to proceed.
"My lady," Salman started, "The Elite can only be described as the greatest under-rulers of the World. That means that they are not kings, queens, emperors, empresses or other Powers, but they are the top most leaders in their craft. The Main Categories are; Fabrication, Smithy, Botany, Masonry, Military, Cookery, Fishery, and Husbandry. The Elite consist of Masters' of their Craft. There is Nuvausa Lunday of Fabrication, Shudar Karnade of the Smithy, Gregory Mendelen of Botany, Aaric Duvar of Masonry, Seric Montrei-Vayir of the Military, Salleh Doon of Cookery, Jonathan Silver of Fishery, and Joehsav Armis of Husbandry. All of which are the Elite of the Eight Wonders this world has to offer."
He stopped, letting me take it all in. I was blown inside. We, the small and unknown kingdom of Remalna, only slightly famous because of the Renselaeus' alliance with Sartor, were going to house --who knows for how long-- the greatest of the great. The Elite.
"Goodness," I breathed, resisting the urge to whistle. "And we. . ." I was cut off by a loud noise, and a slight murmur of people in an adjacent room.
"We have to go," Vidanric said, answering our questions. The Fabricator and the Elite have arrived. We rushed out of the door and into the salon where I saw the selected Court waiting. We led them out, Vidanric commanding them in a low voice. Finally, after at least ten minutes, the Court was arranged from highest to lowest rank. Vidanric and I met Savona and Tamara and the Prince and Princess at the door for they were going to be leading with us into the Hall as our Royal Family. --
The Princess smiled, but her manner seemed troubled. "Goodness, we've been caught in a fix. First an unexpected offer from the Fabricator, and now a dinner for the Elite. . .my."
"Do not worry Mother," Vidanric said, "We'll treat it like a very formal State dinner. Our friend Yusuf Salman has assured us of that." He motioned over to Salman, who greeted the Royal Family with a bow, face welcoming and friendly. Clearly he was used to being around Royalty.
"Yes, my lady," he said, addressing the Princess. "The staff has seen to the preparations that were made and approved them ten-fold. No need to fret. All the Elite needs is a decent meal, hot bath's, and a good suite of rooms and Respect." The Princess smiled at him.
"Well, that is good," she said to us all.
"And, my dear cousin Vidanric, you have no reason to fret, for I saw to everything," Savona said, waving a hand in dismissal. Quickly he added, "We saw to everything." when he saw Tamara glare.
"Of course," Tamora said, her pride showing. "No need to worry. We shall dazzle them all."
You will dazzle them all, I thought with a laugh. Tamora looked as if she were a visiting queen or importance herself. She wore a long gown of blue gossamer, the same shade as her eyes. The bodice was embroidered heavily with small sapphires and diamonds and rubies along the round neck. The skirt was embroidered with the same fashion on the hem and it billowed out, revealing an under gown of a rich cream. It to was embroidered with diamonds and rubies. Everyone's clothes had a touch of red to them, signifying and respecting the Fabricator's colors. Her curls were pinned up at the back of her head in a nimbus with braided ribbons and gems.
"That we shall," Vidanric said. Suddenly, there was a blaze of trumpets. We hastily sprang to the side as the doors flew open, revealing the trope. Salman walked past us and behind the two trumpeters. Suddenly they started to march forward, sending out the Royal Mark in a cunningly tuned trumpet blast. We watched in fascination as a canopy led a small group of eight and their advisor's. Nuvau was at the front, back straight and chin high. We could not see her face, or any of their faces, under the shadow of the canopy. All we saw were their clothes, so blisteringly shiny that we almost had to squint. The trumpeters stopped and then let out the Remanlan Mark, signaling the Royal Family to join. I took Vidanric's arm, The Prince to the Princess, and Savona to Tamara. We made our way to the front, behind the trumpeters. As if on cue, the selected Court went in behind, all in the order of rank. The doors to the Grand Staircase opened and we walked to the Gallery. I saw in amazement the rest of the Court waiting below, either seated on cushions or around the buffet. All of their attention was now on us. --
We walked down to the sound of proceeding trumpets and various instruments that I hadn't heard before and onto the red marble floor of the West Parlor. We stopped and stepped aside, letting the canopy and the eight pass us to the front of the Empire table. The canopy was lifted and I saw the most interesting and queer group of people that I have ever witnessed. As they were seated, the Announcer called out the introductions.
First was Nuvau, who looked entirely different than she did before in tunic and trousers. Now, she wore a rosy red gown that was cut in such a style that the cut looked better than any gem. The bodice was form-fitting and done in a paisley red fabric embroidered everywhere with beads of every color and rubies and diamonds along the triangular neck and sleeveless arms. The bodice ended abruptly at a flourishing of gossamer in gold that washed down like a river into a flowing skirt of red sheer. That skirt opened into another one of a butter yellow gossamer. Each was embroidered with gold wire and rubies and diamonds and other assorted gems in different patterns. My gaze traveled up to Nuvau's face, which shone brilliantly under the candlelight. Her straight hair had been let down from her tie and I now noticed that it reached only down to her shoulders. I saw in her face the seriousness that I saw in Vidanric's face, but I also saw a layer of brightness over it. It was then that I realized why Vidanric had been so attracted to her at one time; her countenance and personality were like his.
I shook myself out of that depressing thought and watched her walk toward her seat and sit down, her skirts artfully arranged.
"Shudar Karnade of the Smithy," the Announcer called. Out of the group stepped out a tall man of formidable girth. He was dressed in a plain dressing of tunic and trousers, nothing special, but over it he wore a leather apron, much like the one I saw in our Smithy at Tlanth, but his was more like a work of art. The apron he wore was like a piece of gold hammered so thin that it was now like fabric. It was done over with Alexandrites and amethysts and along the edges with iron and silver workings. All of it illuminated his stern, black bearded face and long black hair that was plaited with two small braids in the front. He took a seat next to Nuvau.
Next was a lean man named Gregory Mendelen. He was a queer man, dressed all in green and brown, with eyes of the purest emerald. He had small hands that looked as if he spent his whole life arranging and fingering flowers. His clothes were of no gems, but around his neck he wore a long string of clover-shaped emeralds and fresh flowers that hung down to his narrow waist. He too took a seat, flanked next to Shudar Karnade.
"Aaric Duvar of the Masonry," the Announcer said, calling another Elite. A stocky man walked out of the group. What caught me was that he was barefooted, with slightly rolled up trousers as if he was feeling the floor. He walked with the surety that one might have if treading on loose rocks and not smooth marble. Along with his blue trousers, he wore a tunic-shirt of coarse gray burlap, exquisitely cut. In one hand, he held a polished silver mallet-hammer that was encrusted with marble veins and silver and gold ore. Raw and uncut diamonds and sapphires adorned the hilt, surfaces polished to give of a shine. His hard face was lined with a beard and mustache that was black, red, white and gray, as if it were made of marble itself. Gray eyebrows arched his stern gray eyes and long gray hair was combed back carelessly to fall in a heap on his shoulders. He walked gracefully, almost floating, to a seat next to Gregory Mendelen.
Next was a man that almost scared me when he was called. He was Seric Montrei-Vayir of the Military. He was an outrageously tall man, surprisingly lean, with short fox colored hair and orange eyebrows. He had hazel eyes of a fox, straight nose, and a razor of a mouth. On his fox-like face was a beard and mustache that was so carefully cultivated that it almost looked as if it was drawn on his face. He wore a very exquisite dress of dark forest green and black velvet, done with diamonds. At his side was a handsome sword that Vidanric probably envied, sheathed in a case of gold and silver workings. He walked with the air of a commander and I felt Vidanric stiffen when he took a seat next to Nuvau, fox eyes alert. I knew from Vidanric's stiffening that he was probably Marloven.
"Salleh Doon of the Cookery," the Announcer bellowed and out from the group a short and stocky woman appeared. She wore no gown, but a simple brown dress of cotton and white. Over it was a white apron made from the most finest silk weave, adorned with silver and gold wire stitchings in various patterns. In one hand she held a chef's cleaver, its silver blade kept in a sheath of yellow gold and white gold done with a hard blackweave. It's hilt was done marvelously with carvings of emerald, ekirth, diamonds, starstone, and quicksilver. Her face was surprisingly thin, with brown hair hanging simply to her shoulders. She took a seat next to Seric Montrei-Vayir, her hands fingering her cleaver.
The next man was the most prominent of the eight. He was Jonathan Silver of the Fishery. He was the most anonymous, but that didn't stop the smell of a hundred year old fish from coming through. I glanced around and saw Tamara's mouth stretched into a thin line of white, her eyes brimming with tears, hand in front of mouth to keep from gaging. Even Vidanric, so carefully controlled, had to look away, eyes glazed from watering. The whole Court shifted when he walked forward. He was dressed in a slick suit of gray, so fitting that it looked as if he never took it off. His hair was black and greasy and was smoothed off by a careless hand. He wore boots that were polished to a gleam and around his neck was a necklace of shark teeth that were carefully polished to show off their luster, and ekirthi and sea shells. In one hand was a long harpoon, its teak wood staff carved with images of the naval type. He seemed proud as he took a seat next to Aaric Duvar, who remained like a stone, unbreathing.
The last one to be presented was Joeshav Armis of Husbandry; He was another one who blended in. He was clothed in a workman's tunic and trousers, adorned with Alexandrites of a dull gray and small ekirthi. Over his weary and wrinkled face was a gray, burlap hat encrusted with the same ekirthi and Alexandrites along the brim over his brown hair. In one hand he held a shovel, its staff carved and engraved with different symbols in Sartorian. Over the staff was a metal casing that was carved and inlaid with iron and gold, as was the actual shovel. He walked over, small brown eyes alert as he took a seat next to Salleh Doon.
The introductions were done and it proceeded from there. Vidanric led the Royal Family to their seats and introductions were done in a flash.--
It didn't take so long before everyone was seated and introduced and the feast began. To our dismay (and relief) we found that the Fabricator's staff had planned and prepared the meal to the general likings of the Elite. During the feast, I noticed that whatever food was brought, the Elite made almost painstakingly sure that they took a sampling of everything. I say painstakingly because Johnathan Silver, who probably never ate anything besides seafood, had an almost internally volatile time eating portions of sweetmeats. The rest seemed perfectly content on feasting with anything other than a few dishes. While Vidanric and the Prince and Princess asked of different affairs, I sat there listening to them, trying to compare what they said to my coextensive knowledge. I got nowhere so I contented myself to admiring the Sartorian blackwork on the candlestands when I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. The skin at the back of my neck pricked, but I turned around slowly to find Nuvau smiling down at me.
"Mel! This does get a bit boring," she whispered down to me, holding out her hand. I took it awkwardly and we slipped out of the Hall through one of the servant's accesses. When we were out of the Hall she laughed. "This might seem awkward enough, I'm sorry, but I never can stay so long in one spot. And, I heard about you and I thought what a woman to take!" I just smiled at her, confused.
"I don't follow," I said politely, trying to sound as understanding as possible. She frowned slightly and sighed.
"I was thinking that you could show me around this building of Athanarel. If that is alright," she replied, almost guiltily. I looked up at her, not able to help the smile that was starting to grow on my face.
"I'd be delighted to," I said with a curtsy.
&
Amazingly, I found that Nuvau was a person who loved to laugh, despite her stern and authoritative exterior. As we walked to the Library, which was at the end of the Royal Residence wing, Nuvau lectured on many things, always taking my questions seriously and giving them professional answers. Besides the art of Fabrication, Nuvau had a very extensive knowledge of various other crafts and histories.
". . .for there's always sheep to be herded, the clothiers of today cannot be overrun by the Fabrication."
I jerked my attention back to her and smiled, trying to make a resemblance that I was listening. "Really? So, does the Fabrication make sure only to use as much wool and other fabric's for, what, Royalty?"
Catching my resemblance, Nuvau smiled in approval. "Yes. We understood that what our ancestor's did, back in the time of 4030 or so, when the Fabrication was just introduced, was actually hurting the industry. All of the clothiers and minor upholsters that served in cities had no money to buy the wool. Even if they did, we'd probably have bought all of it anyway. That, as you may know, only made them quit. With them quitting, the lower house families that needed so desperately to have things fixed against weather, wear, et cetera, would clamor at our doors and beg. Sadly, since we were busy doing Royalty estates, we couldn't tend to help them. Since we couldn't help them, the families made complaints to their lords, which reached kings and monarchies, and they had us banned. It made a nasty quarrel of everything."
I had to whistle at that. "One thing does lead to another," I said ruefully, shaking my head.
Nuvau grinned. "Sure does. The Library!" She pointed at the large wooden doors that led into the Library, her face full of excitement. I grinned as she quickened her strides and batted aside the footman that sprang to open them. "Back!" she snapped sternly, causing the footman to sink back into their niches, eyes flashing. I followed her in and stood near a bookshelf, watching her file her way around the different shelves, finger pointed and eyes narrowed. "Laws, Proclamations, yada yada yada," I heard her say to herself. "More laws. . . .here!"
I went over to her and peered over shoulder at the leather-bound book that she held to her. I glimpsed the title Dark Arts and stifled a gasp as I staggered back. Nuvau and Dark Arts? Impossible. When she turned to me her eyebrows knitted in worry. I raised a brow to reply, eyes darting to the book she held. She stiffened. "Dark Arts?" I said politely. "Interesting book. I've seen reviews done exquisitely before on this."
She eyed my critically, a frown lining both brow and mouth and then she suddenly smiled, her face bright. "Yes it is! Now, let me tell you something." She walked over to an archive tapestry and batted it aside. My throat closed when I realized that it was the same one that Vidanric used as his study. She walked over to a table that was tucked between two shelves and rested the book down onto it gently. "Anyway," she continued, "Fabrication is one of the Darker arts. I know, I know. It doesn't seem like it, does it." I shook my head, confused. She resumed. "It was derived from the teachings of the Mearsies Court long ago in 3700's, when the Venn Sea Empire broke into pieces. The Mearsies kept it in secret to themselves, passing it along from generation to generation of its inhabitants. But, by the time I was born, Norsunder learned of this and invaded the Empire, taking the magic as well as the teachers that taught it."
"It must've been bloody," I said, rubbing my arms.
Nuvau sighed. "Very. Took almost all of them." She smiled ruefully. "Luckily, since the magic was handed down, it still lived, even if Norsunder didn't know it. And, I don't think I need to explain the rest. All that happened was that it kept on being passed down, until it reached me. It was then made public only fifteen years ago to the whole world. In other words, it was now one central company that served the whole world, not just broken branches."
I shook my head slowly at this. So, Nuvau was taught in a "Dark" Art and yet she seemed so unattached to the "Dark" side of it--whatever that was--. Or at least that's what I thought. We spent the rest of the time filing through shelves, one after another, talking about histories, (Or actually Nuvau talking and me listening), and whatnot. It was getting late and I knew our presence was being missed. The candles had dwindled down to the First White Candle, leaving sunrise only a few hours away. "Nuvau," I asked when she paused her lecture to turn a page. She looked at me, one brow cocked in inquiry. I blushed. "Um, it's getting late now and I'd best guess that we hurry back to dinner."
She let out her airy laugh and looked at me smiling, both eyes and face. "Of course. What are we doing here? I guess that I'd gotten too caught up in past histories that I'd forgotten the present." Her smile turned into a grin. "Way too much." Her eyes invited me to share her humor.
I weakly smiled back and retorted, "Yes, too much. You almost mistook the wall tapestries as warrior shields." As a joke is wasn't much, but I did get a good, snorting laugh from her, which made me feel a bit accomplished.
She turned to me, her face flushed from mirth and held out her arm. "Alright! Alright! You're killing me! Let's leave, shall we?"
"Let's," I said, my face an unsure smile. Something seemed to irk at me. Something in Nuvau's overly leisured behavior, but she dragged me away before I could comprehend what it was.
Before we left, Nuvau slid her arm free and lifted the book called Dark Arts. She smiled at me as I watched her. "Wait a moment Mel," she said loftily, "A book will always be returned to its place or it will miss is sorely!" She went over to the shelf and I slipped outside.
While I waited for Nuvau to replace the book, I leaned against one of the high windows, looking out at the moon and the stars. I sighed, trying to banish thoughts out of my head, but they kept coming back. Her smile, her beauty, her knowledge, the way the Elite stepped through as if the importance of the world, the arched backs, the simplicity and show of the skills, the leisure and grace in which they drifted, the footman, the unguarded laughter in the Library. . . I jerked those thoughts out of my mind, wanting to scream the frustration out of me. What was wrong with me? Was I purposely trying to belittle myself? I have nothing against Nuvau or any of the Elite. But as I leaned my head against the cold glass and listened to the water flow, my mind kept whispering, the way she looked at him. . . Suddenly, I heard the crash of glass and a sharp curse and cry, and a few thuds, followed by sheer silence. I whirled around and gasped when I saw the footmen fall soundlessly onto the ground, like stones. Like stones. . . I jumped when I heard from the Library a very familiar laugh.
Dun Dun Dun DUN!! Action at the begging of the THIRD chapter!! Yes! It's OVER!! And guess who's coming!!
