Episode 4: Tales of Halamshiral

15th of Cassus

The Heroes, excluding Aelita, sat around the table eating the breakfast prepared for them by servants of the Sarethari family. Jeremie had just finished informing the others that Aelita was Anthea's daughter, since the Outcast had been out late that night with her mother and had yet to return. As if on cue, Aelita walked in, obviously tired. Before Jeremie could ask her if she was feeling alright, Ulrich teased her affectionately, "So, milady Kitten, what is your first act as a noblewoman going to be?"

Aelita laughed weakly. "A noblewoman abandoned as a babe and raised by humans, thus having no claim to the title of scion?" She paused dramatically, "looking for work, probably."

Ulrich laughed. "Practicality is for peasants, milady. You must do something frivolous to celebrate your birthright."

"Such as…?"

"Go down to the marketplace and complain that there are no Nihonjin silks that match your eyes."

Aelita tilted her head slightly. "What if there is something that matches my eyes? What do I do then?"

"Claim that they're blatantly copying you and demand royalties," Ulrich announced. Chuckling, he explained, "A good noble always has a complaint ready, Kitten."

Jeremie watched the exchange with an amused smile and was about to open his mouth when Anthea greeted them warmly, politely asking that they remain in the city until the next day, even though the blizzard had cleared up. When asked why, she simply said that she had something for them that would be of equal value to all of the Heroes, but it was not yet ready. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to ask of you. The rest of the day is yours."

Laura looked to the Matron. "Will the High Council agree to support Lyoko in the war? We need as many allies as we can get."

Anthea thought for a moment. "If you were able to convince them that Xana Kenval has awoken, they might agree to support you. She is a worse threat to Elvhenan than even your invasion."

Laura thanked her, and the Heroes began to leave, leaving the dining room empty save for three. Jeremie rolled his eyes when Anthea told Aelita to go down to the elvhen chantry, frustrated that he'd been ignored again. Before she left, he caught her wrist and she stopped for him. "Are you feeling okay? You look really pale."

She smiled weakly. "I'll be fine, Jeremie. I'm just tired, and it's just a cough."

"Be careful, okay? I don't like it when you're alone." He said.

"I've been on my own for years. I'm used to it." She replied for what felt like the hundredth time.

He chuckled. "Believe it or not, that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better."

Aelita shook her head though she also smiled before she turned and walked away. Jeremie watched her go until he felt someone's eyes on him, and he turned to see that Anthea had not yet left the room. She seemed flustered for a moment, and she looked away. Jeremie waited for a moment to see if she was going to say anything but with her continued silence he finally looked away and left the room. However, wanting to be nearby when the others returned, he decided to explore the estate.

It was a rather large building in the wealthier part of Halamshiral. Stone walls were decorated by painted scenes, murals and banners. On one of the banners appeared to be the Sarethari family tree, detailing the family since before the first fall of Halamshiral during the Surface Wars. Near the bottom, the line appeared to have ended with Nim, but there were the beginnings of stitches that he could only assume to be Aelita's portrait. He started at it for a bit, wondering how much would be different, then shook off the thoughts and moved on.

He eventually came across a large wooden door, and when he tried to open it, he found it to be locked. He rushed until he found a pair of lock picks, and after an amount of time he would refuse to admit to later, he finally picked the lock. Inside was a small workshop, an elvhen construct standing like a man against the wall. Jeremie studied the construct for a while and then turned to the plans on the drawing table.

The runes scribbled on the pages were done hastily, like the chicken scratches of a madman. Jeremie could pick out a few words here and there, and he assumed that the annotation at the bottom marked the plans as Waldo Sarethari's design. Looking back at the construct, Jeremie picked up a few pages of the plans and began to compare them to the actual construct.

It appeared that Anthea had not allowed anyone into the room in sixteen years, as thick dust fell off when he held the plans up, and merely touching the parchment caused slight damage. Jeremie approached the construct and examined the mechanics. It appeared to be rather well-made, but before he could begin investigating Nim charged into the room with a look of wonder and excitement on her face. Jeremie sent her a friendly smile, but when she saw him, her smile vanished. "You're not… you're not him." She muttered with her voice high and child-like in comparison to the sophisticated accent she'd spoke in the day before.

"I'm… not him? Who is he?" Jeremie asked.

"Who are you?" Her voice had changed again, now as if she were trying to sound like an old man.

"Don't you remember?"

"Are you saying you don't know who you are?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"I don't know. Are you mocking me?"

"Is that a question or are you just copying me?"

"Would you know a question if it were asked?"

Jeremie had to stop. "I certainly hope so," He said with a smile, hoping to end the cycle.

Surprisingly, Nim became angry, and her voice returned to the mock-child. "NO! That is not a question! How are we supposed to play the questions game if you won't play by the rules?!"

Jeremie was taken aback. He hadn't realized that Nim wanted to play a game. Her mood had changed so suddenly, as if she went between a senile old man to an impatient child in a matter of seconds. He blinked. "The… questions game? How do we play?"

Nim smiled. "Don't you know that we're already playing?"

"So all I have to do is ask a question?"

"Do you want to play or not?"

"Should I answer that question?" Jeremie asked, and he returned to the construct. He found some parts of it had been torn out, and he examined them. It was simple enough to grasp the mechanics and determine where the pieces should fit and the workshop held all the tools he would need. So, ignoring the now silent Nim, he set about the repairs. He soon realized, however, that there would be no way to get the construct moving without a power source, something like the heart that was in a mortal body.

His mind floated to the crystals that the elves used to light the streets and he looked around the construct to see if the crystals he assumed powered it were nearby though he found nothing. He turned to ask Nim where the constructs power crystals had gone and found her wandering about the workshop, distracted by seemingly nothing. Concluding that she was likely sleepwalking, Jeremie considered grabbing her shoulder, but he'd read in the Book of Dreams that it was dangerous to do so.

Nim turned suddenly and grabbed his wrist. He jumped and she tightened her grip. "You're not him. What is a shem like you doing in Halamshiral?" She demanded.

"Nim, it's me. Jeremie? Jeremie Belpois, remember? You led me and my friends here, along with your cousin?" He tried to jog her memory.

"My… cousin?" Nim said. "They told me she was dead! They said the babe was dead along with him but I knew they were lying!"

"Who is he?!" Jeremie demanded, but she said nothing, only digging her nails into his wrist. He pulled against her, now frightened. He considered kicking her, but he knew that she was more skilled a fighter than he was—she'd disengaged Odd's arm within seconds of him making contact.

"Nim, drop him!" Anthea shouted, entering the workshop. Nim looked at her aunt, and while she wore a look of anger, she released Jeremie's wrist. Anthea walked over to her niece and held her shoulders. "Go find Papa, Nim. Ask him to take you for a walk outside of the city. You could use the air." Nim obeyed, and the Matron approached Jeremie. "Are you alright, Jeremie?"

He was shaking, unable to erase the memory of her eyes. Nim had blue eyes like her aunt, but there had been no emotion in them. "I… I think that I'll be alright." He said. "What was that about?"

Anthea sighed. "You were there when I explained to Aelita that because of the curse she had to be sent away? Nim was affected by the curse as well, but she was old enough that the symptoms didn't show until later on. Nim is not exactly what you would call… all there." She sat down on the floor, and Jeremie sat across from her. "She has episodes. Most of the time she is like you saw outside of the gates, and while outside the gates she shows no sign of the curse. But sometimes she loses her grip on reality. This can be nonviolent or aggressive but they can be stopped very easily by telling her to leave the city for some time. I'm sorry you had to see her that way."

Jeremie looked away. "Are there triggers? She bounced between characterizations so quickly…"

"I don't know. It is my brother's wish that we do not explore it, since admitting Nim has these episodes would show weakness to the other families in his eyes." Anthea sighed, and there was an awkward silence between the two. Suddenly she looked up. "Actually, Jeremie, I was hoping I might ask you something."

"What is it?"

"You and Aelita… there's something there, no?"

Jeremie felt all the liquid in his mouth dry up, and he went over worst-case scenario in his head. He saw that Anthea's expression was flat, not angry, and he took a leap of faith. "I didn't realize I was being so obvious about it."

It appeared to pay off. "Oh, good. If you ask me, she seems a bit lonely, and if you look at her when she thinks that you aren't watching, she just looks so sad." Anthea sighed, and she looked to the side. "She told me about the war, your engagement to Princess Laura, the relationship you had before that, even her life while she was a changeling, but I can't help but feel like she's involved in something bigger and more dangerous than any of that. Look after her, will you?" Smiling, she looked back at him. "Oh, and if you break her heart again, I'll cut off your balls."

Anthea stood and dusted herself off. She left the workshop, and Jeremie watched her go. He couldn't help but laugh at how cheerfully she'd threatened him.

After their breakfast Yumi had been asked by Laura to join her while she petitioned the elves for assistance, and because he had nothing better to do, Ulrich decided to tag along as well. Odd decided that he didn't want to be in a room full of boring, old politicians so he had left for the city after breakfast. He had agreed to allow Laura to borrow his sketchbook though, and had given it to her before leaving the estate. Laura now searched through his drawings, looking for sketches of the constructs they'd encountered along the way, as well as a very vague sketch of Xana that the princess hoped would convince the High Council that they were indeed facing the Dark Mother.

She stood now outside of the capitol building, looking at the door that led into the hall where the Council met. Laura pushed the door open, and she examined the faces of the elves around the table. She noticed that many were women, unlike the parties for nobility that she'd attended or the counselors that surrounded her father. The men were old and wizened, and many were speaking fondly of their daughters who would take their place. Laura looked nervously at Yumi and Ulrich, and while the Mercenary seemed indifferent, Yumi encouraged her.

"Greetings, members of the High Council!" Laura said as cheerfully as she was able. "My name is Princess Laura Gauthier of Lyoko, heir to the throne. I have come to speak to you about the current situation affecting Lyoko, and soon, all of Medieuropa."

One of counselors looked at her skeptically. "Why should we listen to the coddled child of our oppressors?" Laura sighed, unsurprised by his response. She remained silent for a moment, choosing to respond by holding up the portrait of Xana Kenval moving it slowly in an arc so that all present could see it. "She has reawakened. Xana Kenval will not stop until the entire surface is hers to command. She has already sundered the Veil, bolstering the numbers within her army considerably."

The elves of the council considered this, many turning to confer with their neighbors in hushed tones. As their collective attention turned back towards her, Laura noted that overall they seemed unmoved and a bit hostile. Before any of them could speak out, she began explaining how Xana had been indiscriminate about her death-dealing, and how she now appeared to be able to brainwash people.

Her mind floated to William, who had been her dedicated protector for many a year, and her fist clenched while she paused for a moment. It had been painful to see him in that way and her heart felt heavier than it had when she thought he had perished. He was a dark knight now, and she wondered if they could save him, or if he were lost to them forever. The thought colored her voice as she finished explaining what Xana had done to him.

Laura looked to the elves and, recalling something about politics, she swallowed her discomfort and took another look around the room, making sure to make eye contact. They ignored her effort at pretending they were equals but she could hear them whisper among themselves. Some suggested an alliance with Xana, in hopes that the Dark Mother would restore Elvhenan.

She tensed and, holding back just slightly less than all of her horror and anger, spoke more of the atrocities Xana had committed, about her use of blood magic and the wanton destruction of homes and businesses.

Most of the council were unmoved, a few even held open sneers. One old man stood up, not caring that he was interrupting her speech. He spoke with fury. "We have endured as much from your kind, shem. You would have us fight to spare you the horrors you inflicted upon us?" He looked around, "Have you heard of Xana attacking Elven cities or the wilder clans?" He answered his own question, looking around at his fellow councilors, "No. Xana isn't a threat to us, only to shem. I say let them face her alone! Let them face what they brought on us!"

Laura reeled back as a few echoed their agreement but she quickly recovered, confining her reaction to heated thoughts and shaking hands hidden by the podium. Raising her voice and glaring around the room with a vengeance she raised her voice "Hidden cities and small groups of roaming k-" She stopped herself from displaying her anger by retaliating with knife ear and continued with only a slight stumble. "Elvin families aren't useful targets. What about the elves that chose to live in human cities?"

With their renewed attention Laura continued to explain Xana's merciless slaying and enslaving of citizens, human and elf alike. The mention of slavery further stilled the voices but did little to ease the hard stares she was receiving. One member of the council rose from her seat and asked bluntly "Suppose we joined you and defeated Xana. Your kind would know of our strongholds and we would be weakened by the support we give. What promise and protection could you offer that we wouldn't be overrun with slavers before our warriors could even turn away from the battlefields?"

Laura sulked and she had too little self-control left to avoid giving it away. How had she been so foolish as to think that she, a human, could ever convince the elves of Halamshiral that Xana was a threat to them? "I can't." Laura admitted with a sigh.

The council chamber erupted into fervor and Yumi could see that this had spiraled badly out of control. She stepped to the podium and whispered something to Laura, reminding her that the elves had history and their own prophecies of Xana. Laura nodded and focused her attention back to the very center of the council group. Raising her voice she cut through the chatter with surprising volume and authority. "Listen all of you!" Into the surprised silence she spoke. "I ask that you consider what Xana did to you a century ago. Would your ancestors appreciate you teaming up with the very woman who burned your homes, who ordered the raping of your wives and daughters, who strung your children up from the trees you decorated with pride?"

The council remained silent now, and Laura forced back a sigh of relief that her emotional appeal had been at least somewhat successful. She collected her things and left the room. "You were great, Laura." Yumi said, and Ulrich agreed after Yumi sent a hip bump his way.

Laura sighed and without the politician's mask she looked drained. "I'm glad you think so. I need a drink."

Whilst wandering, Odd had learned something about himself—he had never spoken about it to many people, not even Ulrich, but he had always felt in Lyoko's cities that people could tell he had an elven parent just by looking at his face. He saw now, in a city full of elves, how easily he'd passed. Of course, this revelation did nothing to address his current problem.

He had never spent much time in Replika, and he'd never been inside Halamshiral. So, needless to say, he was hopelessly lost. Honestly, he didn't know what he expected when he'd entered the homeland of his father's people, but he guessed that he had expected to find alchemists and fletchers around every corner. Unfortunately, that assumption had been far off.

Smelling the familiar stench of a blacksmith's forge, Odd found himself in the craftsman's district. He looked inside one of the smithies to find a girl who, at this distance, looked like Aelita. Odd called out to her, but she didn't look up. He ran over to the girl who was working on an ornate piece of steel. "I called out to—oh, I'm sorry." Odd apologized as the girl looked up.

She looked similar enough to Aelita—their skin tones were similar and so was the structure of their cheekbones, but this was clearly not the Outcast. Her hair was the color of strawberries, and while it looked short in the front it was in fact long and braided tightly behind her. Her eyes were also darker and overall her features were sharper. Scoffing, the girl dismissed him. "I look like someone you know, right? That's the oldest pickup line in the book."

Odd was almost offended, but he let it slide. "Right, that was silly of me." He said flatly. "Anyway, my name is Odd." There was a moment of silence as the girl continued to bang her hammer against the metal to beat it into shape. Hot sparks flew off, and he stepped over to the side. "Are… you planning on telling me your name?"

The girl sighed. "Talia." She said flatly in between the strikes of her hammer.

"Talia, eh? Does that mean something in Elvish?" Odd asked.

Talia slammed her hammer down on the forge. "Why do people always ask that of those from other cultures? What about you? Were you named because you had some strange deformity at birth?"

Odd laughed. "Alright, alright, I get it." He leaned against the wall, and for a moment, he simply watched her work her forge. "You know, you look an awful lot like your mother. Aelita said that she died. A real shame, that."

She looked up at him. "Mam!" She shouted. A woman shouted back 'what' and Talia returned her attention to Odd, pulling on her left ear.

"Your birth mother. You must know that you're human and not elven." He said.

"I'm not? That's news. When did that happen?" Talia said, her voice getting progressively sharper.

Odd sighed. "So, do you like it here? I mean, it must feel strange being the only human in a city full of elves."

"Oh, no, I love it here! Everyone is so nice and friendly, and they never freak out when you ask questions about human society! And everything here is so unique and pretty! You want to know what I saw yesterday? A fucking tree. That never happens."

"Why are you acting so hostile?" He demanded, standing up.

"Because it's obvious what you're trying to do!"

"What am I trying to do, Talia, huh? What am I trying to do?"

"You're trying to get me to sleep with you!"

Odd threw back his head and groaned. "Contrary to popular belief, I do not want to sleep with every person I meet! Believe it or not, I do have standards."

Talia almost seemed surprised, if not offended. "You… don't want to sleep with me?"

"No! You look far too much like my friend Aelita. I think it would be less awkward to actually sleep with her than her changeling counterpart. And after… what happened in the Ravenbow Canyon… I have no attraction to Aelita whatsoever." Odd turned and walked out of the smithy. "I was just trying to have a conversation with you!" He called over his shoulder without hiding the frustration. "I thought that was the polite thing to do after you mistook someone for another! Next time, I'll avoid it, Ice Queen!"

Talia charged after him. "I am not an Ice Queen!" She shouted. She caught his arm and spun him around, forcing their lips together. Odd pushed her away and kept walking. Talia flicked her head, as if to knock back a long strand of hair that didn't exist.

Odd folded his arms across his chest and resisted looking back, walking until he found a fletcher. He bought a new bunch of arrows and examined them before continuing on his journey. The arrows were of fine make, and the detail was amazing—archaic designs covered the arrowhead and the shaft. As he continued wandering in what he hoped was the general direction of the Sarethari estate he saw Yumi, Ulrich and Laura sitting at a mushroom table outside of a tavern. He waved to them, sliding into the open seat. "Isn't this city amazing? I don't think I've ever met so many friendly people in one city!" Odd said sarcastically.

Laura rolled her eyes. "I am officially sick of this city. I can't wait to leave."

"Come on now, princess. I thought you would love the bureaucracy of the High Council." Ulrich said mockingly.

"I still cannot believe they considered joining forces with Xana before Lyoko." Laura said, taking a sip of her wine.

Yumi offered perspective. "Well, humans did take over their land, force them into slavery, cut off their connection to immortality and make them forget their culture and language."

Laura was silent for a moment. "Yeah but that was almost five centuries ago."

Odd laughed, Yumi rolled her eyes and Ulrich glared but said nothing. Thankfully a waiter broke the mounting tension by bringing Odd a tankard, and when the others answered his questioning looks with a shrug he examined it. He could not see nor smell anything wrong with it, so he drank it, believing it to be simple hospitality. He listened while the others gossiped; speaking of rumors they'd heard about Anthea and what had happened with Mehormanda. Laura called it a demon, and vaguely Odd remembered Jeremie speaking about it. His eyesight became hazy, but he attributed it to the ale in his tankard. Rather abruptly he excused himself and he stumbled away from the tavern. Yumi offered to help him back to the estate but Odd refused, claiming that it wasn't the first time he'd been drunk.

Soon however, he learned that while he may have been drunk before, this was one of the few times he'd been drugged.

Aelita looked around the chantry. This chantry was not at all like the chantry in Yolanda's tomb. This was the Shaman's home, a place where she could mix potions for the sick and offer aid to the needy. Vines with alchemy reagents hung from pots dangling from the ceiling, basking in the sunlight. Miscellaneous objects were scattered about the shelves, from traditional robes to halla skulls to even a flask of ground troll moss—suggesting that the hunters had found a troll's den and killed it. The moss that grew on the body of a stationary troll was said to have medicinal properties.

The Shaman was a short old woman, and while her cheeks were fallen, her face overall was round and grandmotherly. Her long grey hair had been tied back into a braided bun but most of it had fallen out. She wore brown robes that were far too big for her, and she carried a staff with an orange crystal embodied inside it. The Shaman would not reveal her true name, and Aelita complied with her wish.

The Shaman asked Aelita to grab one of the brown robes, and she did, pulling it over her shoulders. She did not tie it up, allowing the pink clothing she wore underneath to show through. When Aelita had finished, the Shaman tapped the floor twice with the end of her staff, and a trap door flew open, revealing a flight of stairs. "Please, follow me." The Shaman said, her voice raspy.

Aelita followed the elderly woman down the stairs. It was dark for a moment before the crystal began to glow. When the light faded due to a white light further down the tunnel, she narrowed her eyes, almost blinded. But when she learned what caused that light, she was glad she had not closed her eyes entirely.

Below the chantry was a magnificent sculpture of the Creation Father, even more impressive than the two that stood outside the building. He was taller than the tallest tree Aelita had ever seen, and where nature had been held in his hands, water fell into the pond at his feet. Surrounding the crystal-clear waters were evergreen trees with white needles and small crystals giving off soft light. The Outcast felt a warm breeze on her neck, and all around she heard music, like something played on a pan flute.

"This is the Oasis. Our stories claim that this was the first place the Creation Father designed, and our birthplace." The Shaman explained. She revealed the ribbon from her sleeve. The fabric had begun to change colors, looking like blood in this light. "This gift of the Asha'bellanar Yolanda is an ancient one, borne of Bellanaris. It is called the String of Second Chances."

Aelita tilted her head. "What does it do?"

The Shaman laughed. "It gives someone a second chance, of course! What else would it do?" She handed it to Aelita and folded her hands around it. "I am an old, old woman, da'len, but even in my youth I could not have activated this relic, for it requires more magic than most magicians can spare. But you are unlike any mage I've ever met. Your magical reservoir is three times the size of mine. You might survive."

While Aelita was apprehensive about the 'might' she did not wish to anger the Shaman. "What must I do, Shaman?"

The Shaman pointed to the pond. "Place the ribbon in the pond," She then shifted her wrinkly hand to point towards a stone slab buried in the ground. "Then, kneel on the slab and focus all of your magic onto the statue. But be careful, da'len. You are weaker today than most days and your mother will never forgive me if you die."

"Ma nuvenin." Aelita said. She approached the pond, nervously entering the water. It was warm against her bare feet—she'd left her boots at home; she had seen no point in wearing them to the chantry—and she saw fish swimming about with tails that were long and made them look like shooting stars. Aelita placed the ribbon in the water and the fish scattered.

She walked out of the water, looking nervous as it turned blood red. Aelita looked at the Shaman, but the old woman only nodded encouragingly. Aelita looked at the stone slab. It depicted first creation, then destruction and finally peace. She fell to her knees, and she pressed her fingertips together. The Outcast focused her magic on the statue, and while it felt like only moments, she knew consciously that several hours passed. Being in the Oasis empowered her, but even the constant energy it gave her could not keep up with her draining it like this.

Aelita knew she was pushing herself too hard but she didn't care. She felt her nose begin to bleed, and she felt Hunger calling out to her, begging to be used. Unable to correct either situation, Aelita began to sing. It was a single, long note and it was not entertainment but simply a distraction from spirits and her own fatigue.

Eventually the Shaman grabbed her shoulder, and Aelita's concentration broke. She held her head for it now throbbed, and the Shaman removed the cloak she wore. Then the wizened woman approached the pond, and she looked like she was offering the cloak to someone in the water. Aelita heard the Shaman speaking with another woman, but their words were meaningless as she fell to the side, coughing weakly and spitting up blood.

The Shaman turned back to Aelita, and shock spread across her face. At the same time an elvhen woman with feral looking vallaslin and long brown hair ran up to the stricken girl, fear in her eyes. The last word Aelita said before she lost consciousness was, "Edna."