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The River Kingdoms. It had always been an anarchic borderland, rounded on sides by great powers but never subdued itself. Unlike other lands, there had never been an ancient empire here, no storied imperial legacy. Empires rose and fell around it, but none penetrated the depths. No, this land of swamps, rivers, lakes and gnarled forests had always resisted being tamed, by any race. Its very wildness called to those with the same outlook.
So they came, rugged souls from across Golarion. Pirates, smugglers, hunters, trappers, those escaping the past or those simply looking for an adventurous future. They found a home among the quiet fens and swift moving water, a place for independence, for self-reliance. Le the other kingdoms have their pomp and nobility, their hierarchy and their rules, where one man ruled over another for what his father was and not because he earned it. Here, one stood on their own two feet and got what he deserved.
So the River Kingdoms evolved not into a single central state, but a patchwork of city-states, independent towns and stubborn holdfasts, all linked by the ever-present rivermen, who rafted up and down the waters. It was they, that group of ever capable, practical and above all independent, who gave the area it’s character. Not tied to any land, they were impossible to dominate and too important to mistreat.
Each spoke to the sense of freedom and independence held dear by most of the inhabitants. In addition to this political and cultural outlook was added the unique faiths of the region, born of the two local gods. The twin gods of Hanspur and Alseta.
One was the worship of Hanspur, the Water Rat. God of the Sellen, he is the darker aspect of the River Kingdoms, the avatar of flooding and wild storm. It was he who taught the first rivermen how to navigate the waterways, the hidden paths in this dangerous land. A chaotic god of murder and travel, he values the freedom and independence of the inhabitants. His symbol, a rat walking on water, is a common sight on everything from ships to city gates.
Alseta was the goddess of the land in the River Kingdoms. Unlike Hanspur, who was the god of the mobile and rugged watermen, Alesta was the chosen goddess of the hard-bitten and proud farmers of the River Kingdoms. These were not the servile peasants or effete landowners of other lands. Farming here took grit, courage and skill. In return farmers are accorded great respect here and considered a valued and strategic resource. So the worship of Alseta rose among those communities. She was the goddess of travel, of transition, of community and it was her that governed the seasons. It was her that was invoked for events of change such as marriages, coming of age ceremonies, and indeed even funerals. Her outlook was that of the positive consequences of the freedom of movement, or the independence to live how one wanted, but stressing peace and communal effort. Her sacred animal, the turtle, is a welcomed sign for any traveler or trader and is carved into many doorways and lintels throughout the River Kingdom.
Hanspur lives in independent minded, the pirate, the cultist, the unique. Alseta relishes the flourishing and development of people, of the seasons and climate of the place, of the hardbitten farmers and survivors, of the mystical druids. Both are needed, to balance the other. Only Hanspur would leave the River Kingdoms a bloody tangle of anarchists and murderers but Alseta alone would not provide the independence and freedom. Together, they create a symbiosis, a stable medium that allows both the struggle and the reward of freedom.
Born out of this were the River Freedoms, the mantras that guided life in this divided and unruly land.
Say What you Will, I Live Free: The freedom of speech, even to speak truth to power.
Oathbreakers Die- The solemn duty to follow your word.
Walk Any Road, Float Any River[/i]- Freedom of travel, unbarred from tolls or taxes.
Courts Are for Kings- That every ruler is soviegen in his domain.
Slavery Is an Abomination- Slavery is strictly outlawed in all of the River Kingdoms
You Have What You Hold- The disgust at burglary but the grudging acceptance of robbery.
For millennia it was these freedoms, and the priesthoods of the two gods, that governed the River Kingdoms. Petty states rose and fell, on their own merits. Kings and tyrants, presidents and elected officials governed bits and pieces of the still untamed lands. Weaving through all of it were the priests of Alseta, trusted and honorable. In a land as divided and turbulent as this, arguments were common. Lacking a formal court system, many turned to the local priest for arbitration or judgement. This practice, informally used for generations, slowly increased over the years into acceptance in even the most aggressive and materialistic areas.
The priests were helped by the fact they had no hierarchy, no faction of their own. Unlike the churches in many parts of Avistan, the faith of Alseta lived in individuals, who lived remote, often hermit like lifestyles. Almost druidic in nature, many of them spent entire lifetimes out in the nature, pondering the changing seasons and wandering from place to place. There were no temples, no monasteries, and no priest governed another. As was correct in the River Kingdoms each holy man or woman was judged by their own skill, their own wisdom. If they were unwise or foolish, people simply ignored them. If they were skilled and helpful, they would find many who would ask their aid.
In 4651 Gralton, that splinter kingdoms of exiles and displaced nobility, required an arbiter. While the debate was supposedly an arcane matter of land law, it was really a power struggle between several rival families. In due course a priest was sent for, to help resolve matters with outside help. A young woman, dressed in the traditional brown robes, arrived a few days later, giving the name Veleda.
Despite her youth, she gave off a radiant aura of command and competence. Apparently unimpressed by the postureing and pomp of the Graltons, she heard all sides of the case, asking penetrating questions and always getting to the heart of the matter. Most importantly, she demanded the sessions be hold outside, in public. It should be noted it did not turn into a public free-for all, as was common in neighbouring Galt, with the crowd invited to participate and call for blood. Indeed, Veleda was the first to calm the crowd and to brook no interuptions. Her calm and commanding demonor was enough to stifle most protest. Instead her hearings became part of city life, her sitting on a simple stone as Gralton nobility paced in front of her.
In the end, after due considerations he gave her judgement. The details weren’t important but her technique was. Her solution to the problem was not only a compromise between the two rival factions, it also involved, productively, other unrelated groups. Veleda had, cunningly, created a web of groups, each with some interest at stake, in her judgement going through. In a sense, she created a community answer to an individual problem. It sustained itself through self-interest. It was widely regarded as a wise success, and her name was hailed throughout Gralton as a saviour who had helped them avoid civil war.
And so for the next ten years Veleda traveled the River Kingdoms, making herself a fixture across the various petty kingdoms. Regarded as not only an effective diplomat, she was also hailed for her simple piety and, quite frankly, obvious holiness. A hero among the common people, it became another aspect of her character. When a ruler called Veleda into a city, it often turned into a propaganda coup, resulting in parades or assemblies of happy citizens. So she was called from one kingdom to another, sorting out everything from succession crisis to border disputes. In addition, she also often oversaw important marriages or acted as witness for vital trade deals. Her web of contacts grew and she was soon known and trusted up and down the River Kingdoms both for her skill and her faith. Many of the more observant viewers guessed she had more in store then a simple itinerant arbiter but few guessed what she did next.
The Outlaw Council had been meeting for thirty years by 4661. Formed after chaos in Daggermark, it was an annual meeting of the more important River Kingdom leaders. Considered one of the few times they could meet face-to-face on equal footing, it was an astoundingly common-sense and straightforward way to resolve problems. For a few weeks a year various leaders (proxies were forbidden) would sit in the same room and hash out various problems. It had been a success, although limited by scope and interest.
It was to this assemblage of the greatest power players in the River Kingdoms that was faced with a grave crisis in 4711-50. Razmiran, that insane theocracy let by self-proclaimed god Razmir, was preparing to invade. His legions, backed by his strange divine priests were poised to sweep all before them, uniting the River Kingdoms in his insane bid for godhood.No longer was it a question of milirized Lambeth or Tymon to fight off the invasion. It would take an alliance of all the River Kingdoms to beat back this threat.
And therein layed the problem. For who would lead such an alliance? Every petty ruler and kingdom vied for control, not only out of greed but fear for what a rival may do at the head of a massive River Kingdom army. Never before had such a force been assembled and led. Who could be trusted? The deadlock was insuperable and as they bickered, time slipped away. In desperation they called for an arbiter, someone to choose a worthy leader. And by this point, only one person had the prestige, the skill and the connections to decide among such a body. Veleda was called.
For the first, and only time, the Outlaw Council moved outdoors, to a public square of Daggermark. It was there, under a dark and cloudy sky, she held court. With immense crowds pressured in, each ruler in turn made his case to Veleda (perched on a stone chair) for why they should be made the commander of the joint military. Some spoke of personal glory, others of cunning, still others of vast armies at their command. The crowd took it all in, and as did Veleda though she was as unreadable as ever.
Finally, after the last potentate had finished speaking, the priestess of Alseta rose, gray robes billowing in a stiff breeze. The crowd grew silent, the rulers leaning inward. How would she cut this knot? Anyone she chose would be given power beyond compare and everyone else would feel slighted?
Of course the choice was obvious.
She chose herself.
The crowd roared in approval as the leaders stood, stunned. Any protest was stilled by the cheering crowd, the raucous approval by their own troops. Going against the holy woman was political suicide. While the people cheered the rulers felt a cold wind of danger, a rumor. Would she, Veleda of Alseta, seize power? Would she do the thing they all secretly feared?
The war distracted them in the short term, of course. Veleda proved herself a worthy leader, although she was happy to remain a figurehead for military choices. She summoned councils of the finest generals in the River Kingdoms and took their advice. With her at the banner, thousands volunteered for what became nearly a holy crusade. For the first time, there was a untied River Kingdoms army, led by a coalition from many kingdoms.
The Razmiri army melted before it like ice before a searing flame. They were thrown back into their own lands in confusion, chased by death and destruction. Many River Kingdom commanders wished to invade Razmiran in turn, to defeat such a potent foe once and for all but Velenda said no. She knew all too well what such a powerful man may do if cornered. Instead she marched the army, now fully hers in heart and soul back to Daggermark.
There they made camp, a city outside the city, every single one of the swords at her beck and call. At the gates of Daggermark she assembled the lords and rulers in front of her. Without a choice they came and every one of them could feel doom in the distance. Here they were, surrounded by her army, her swords, and she was going to dictate terms. The River Kingdoms would be hers.
They found the priestess on the lintel of the city gate, sitting on a simple wooden chain, unadorned. What she suggested was not a coup, not a dictatorship. In fact, it was far more surprising then that.
The humble priestess started simply enough. The Outlaw Council was a great force for good in the River Kingdoms, helping regulate trade, prevent violence and defending the River Freedoms. Alseta was pleased with this but the Council was limited. It only met yearly for a brief time and did not actively seek to gather all the leaders. This was natural since few rulers could spend much time at such meetings, either because of fears of a coup or simply out of boredom. It was then that Veleda turned the political world of the River Kingdoms upside down.
What about a permanent standing body of delegates from all the River Kingdoms? What if they never left but simply provided a constant and on-going council to promote trade, talk out difficulties and to provide protection from external threats. A always in session committee, with suitable proxies, to help govern the ungovernable River Kingdoms?
Her initial response was utter astonishment. She didn’t mention the army behind her, the war that had just been won, the victories she had personally achieved. No, instead she was talking of simple cooperation, of communal effort, of trade meetings.
Normally this proposal would have been rejected instantly by the leaders of the River Kingdoms. A chain around their sovereignty? Giving up power, however slight, to a proposed Council? Unthinkable. Absurd.
And yet, compared to what Veleda might have asked for….and still might, if they refused.
And so it was that the Pact of Years was founded, in Daggermark in 4662, signed by every ruler in attendance.
It still wasn’t easy. Forging a unified group out of the diverse River Kingdoms took years of determined efforts. Veleda criss-crossed the River Kingdoms like never before, building support among the people and rulers alike. She touted the virtues of cooperation, the opportunities it opened, the advantages it provided. And soon, her dream took shape.
A massive new building was built in Daggermark, right along the Sellen’s bank. Petty kingdoms sent delegates, some more reluctantly then others, to discuss problems. Connections were made, networks were forged, plots hatched, alliances born. A simple bureaucracy began to form, built at first out of formerly wandering priests. The need for experienced arbiters was so extreme, Daggermark soon became a center for the Alseta priesthood. Over time however, the priests were supplemented by secular gents, volunteered by the various kingdoms. While it started as a simple outgrowth of the Outlaw Council, the scale was something else entirely.
Every independent land, no matter how small or remote was invitely, repteadly. In most cases Veleda went personally, and used her own charisma and command to convince. As more joined, it grew of it gained its own momentum. As Daggermark grew as a node of power, it drew more and more who wished be at the center. Again, the humble priestess of Alseta had harnessed their own self-interest to her yoke.
There were many crisis. In 4683 Artume gained a new leader and broke away from the Pact, its leader sneering at the idea. Indeed, he began gathering forces to invade neighboring lands. Veleda’s response was simple.
She went out into the main square of Daggermark and stated she would not eat until Artume re-entered the Pact. No more, no less was demanded. The priestess, now older and bent with responsibility, made a striking figure, sitting on her simple chair. At first the new leader of Artume laughed and simply went about his business. What was it to him if some woman starved herself?
But the people noticed and began to talk. In a week, pilgrimages formed, people coming from miles away to visit her seat, which became a temporary shrine to peace. The people of Touvette would endure much but would they really see Veleda, the holiest woman in the River Kingdom die over politics? After two weeks the protests began in the Artume capital. After three weeks a group of nobles and officers came to the truculent king and said they could not guarantee his safety unless he rejoined the Pact. Outraged he dismissed them and went to the balcony to do the same to the crowd. Before he got there one of the nobles had put a sword through his heart. The next day the new ruler of Artume announced the re-joining of the Pact and his own personal commitment to Veleda and her ideals.
This was merely one of such personal acts of sacrifice and piety Veleda undertook to form the Pact. Through sheer personal will she gave it form, breathed life into it against all odds. By 4711 it had gained some measure of self-stability. The kingdoms bought into it, using it for their own ends, providing it with a modicum of power and money. Daggermark boomed with the arrivals of delegates, diplomats from all over the River Kingdoms, and indeed beyond.
The Pact was regarded quite favorably from outside the River Kingdoms. It was far more convenient to have a single point of contact to deal with the menagaigres of lands and petty territories. With the coming of the Pact and the rise of Daggermark, there was now one place to meet with the political, cultural, economic and religious powers of the area. Over time, three outside nations, Kyonin, Mendev and Brevoy joined the Pact and although they were accorded full status, many regarded them as wary observers. It added another layer of difficulty in bringing outsiders in, but it had worked. So far.
A whole quarter of the city was demolished and re-built as apartments and hotels for the influx of outsiders. This caused an economic boom in the city as the population soared and demanded more of everything from food to books to clothing. Luxury merchants, rarely seen in the River Kingdoms before, flocked to the city and the rising class of delegates. Postings to the Pact bureaucracy were desired by even the most unscrupulous as not only the best diplomatic training in the River Kingdoms, but also as the best way to make the personal connections required for personal success. Most rulers sent prospective advisors and even heirs to serve under Veleda.
Only two statelets in the River Kingdoms held out against the rising influence. Fort Fielong, home to a brutal horde of hobgoblins and Touvette home to an anti-religious dictator who refused all outside influence. These twin failures were considered by veleda to be black marks on her record but everyone else was astonished at the fact their were only two.
However, the seasons and years do not pass without mark, especially on a priest of Alseta. Veleda was entered her eightieth year and many wondered what would become of the Pact after her death. Would it dissolve, swallowed by the Sellen like so many schemes before it? Or perhaps be hijacked by base men with personal power in mind? Those who wished otherwise looked for an heir apparent to be announced, a successor, someone to carry on the ‘Great Task’.
Who Veleda picked surprised anyone. It was not the heir to a great kingdom. It was not one of the many accomplished diplomats. It was not even a fellow member of the Alseta priesthood.
Instead she chose, Rudabeh, an undine paladin of Alseta.
It was a move that had stunned the entire hierarchy of power in the River Kingdoms, as so many of Veleda’s choices had done for the last half century. Was she again seeing something no one else could see or had old age finally caught up to the woman?
So that is why Rudabeh found herself here, in Daggermark outside the imposing structure of the Grove, the home and heart of the Pact of Years. It was a stunning building, built (if that was the right word) right on the Sellen’s banks. It was made of a huge domed centered, which held the Grand Hall and debating chamber. On both sides were large wings which held offices, conference rooms, servants quarters and other rooms.
What made it remarkable was the manner of construction. Much of the building had been created, by Veleda herself, out of intertwined trees, growing so closely as to meld together. The main entryway was made of two massive oaks, grown together to make a living archway, outlined in leaves. Beyond it, the Grand Hall was made of dozens of living trees, swirling together to create a sealed and enclosed room. Grand stories were told of the living branches that were interwoven throughout the entire building, a living scaffolding for the rest of the more mundane building.
It was here that Rudabeh had been summoned to meet Veleda herself, for the first time. Why had the holy woman chosen her to be her successor? An undine she had never met, and a relative newcomer to the faith?Not even born to the River Kingdoms.
Well before she could solve that, she didn’t to find Veleda’s office.
All sorts of people milled around, passing in and out of the living doors. Some were obviously delegates, dressed in the traditional XX. Others appeared to be simple servants, lugging boxes of paper and ink inside. Still others were hired scribes or entertainers or lobbyists.. More were supplicants to the Pact. While normally dealing with state affairs, veleda also had a constant group of judges in the Grove that would hear minor cases from anyone who showed up with a legitimate grievance.This was always run by priests of Alseta and justice was firm, fair and swift. Everyday saw dozens of simple folk from all over lined up to say their piece.
It was an imposing sight to Rudabeh, who felt quite small facing the large crowds and living, growing building rustling in the breeze. She had been here before but always as a minor agent, a mere bureaucrat. It was quite a different experience being here looking to find Veleda herself.
Where did one start?
Rudabeh takes a deep breath. It's surprisingly fresh and crisp for being so close to Daggermark, which usually stinks of burning trash and sewage.
She consciously exhales, but it comes out as more of a sigh. Before her sentient creatures dedicated to the Pact, Alseta, law and order bustle around her, and here she stands in the middle of it all. An eddy in a river.
You're procrastinating. Go. A voice in her mind urges her forward, but it feels like her knees were locked in place. Rudabeh liked to believe she was not afraid of anything, but the responsibility that loomed before her was an existential crisis she did not know how to face.
GO.
Jerking forward Rudabeh starts walking aimlessly in an effort to just be moving. The sound of her arms and armaments clank softly with her footsteps. Her greatsword felt especially heavy on her back today. It all felt heavy, and she just wanted to take everything off and go for a swim in the Sellen. But she remembered her oaths: Put your duty before personal preference or comfort.
Not exactly reinvigorated but at least reaffirmed, she desperately looks for anyone that might know where Veleda might be before zeroing in on Judge making their way across the courtyard.
"Excuse me! Yes, honorable Judge." She calls out, hustling to catch up with them in a cacophony of bouncing metal. "I am Rudabeh, Paladin of Alseta. I would be most grateful for your assistance." The undine's voice was deep and soothing, and she flashed a small, disarming smile to proceeded her sheepish question. "I have been summoned to meet Veleda. Where is her office?"
The Judge who, unlike the delegates or secular agents, wears the simple brown robes of Alseta raises an eyebrow. He is a human male of indeterminate age, skin weathered by sun and wind. The olive skin and sharp green eyes point to him as one with a long lineage in the River Kingdoms, where the very oldest families hail from Casmaron.
"Rudabeh..." The man says, as if tasting the words then, comprehension dawns. 'You are...yes, the one Alseta chose."
He hesitates, obviously unsure how much deference to give this seemingly lost undine. The Judge seems to decide on bemused formality.
"Go through the main doors, and go down the left wing. Go all the way to the end. You can't miss her..."
Rudabeh can feel the embarrassment rising from her gut and into her ears, which would be fanning out if they weren't trapped in her helmet.
"Uh, well, yes. Thank you!" She spits out, quickly turning on her heel and fast-walking away. Chosen by Alseta? Yes, she chose me to wield a sword! I have done nothing to deserve directing the politics of nations!
She raises a gauntleted hand to her face, the leather palm rubbing against her cold skin. There are so many more qualified than I. Should I try to talk her out of it? Ha, me, talk Veleda out of... Anything!
The same conversations repeat through her mind that had been bouncing around since she received the news, still with no conclusions on what to do when she meets the priestess.
Following directions, Rudabeh walks quickly to the main doors, enters, and makes for the left wing.
It takes some careful maneuvering to weave through the clogged crowds. While the Grove is a massive building, designed on a grand scale, these crowds seem to test even these wide hallways and grand entrances. As Rudabeh passes under the arching branches, she hears whispers in the leaves, like distant voice. In a moment they gone however. Had she been imagining them?
Soon it is forgotten as she enters into the Grove's atrium, a huge entrance hall. While many fo the walls are mundane stone or wood, interspersed, without design or logic, are tree trunks reaching for the sky. Carefully trimmed, Rudabeh sees no leaves or branches, only the bark covered trunks. The paladin guesses the rest fo the tree must be outside, on the other side of the walls. However, it is is done, it is impressive and gives the feeling the entire building is alive.
Rudabeh makes for the left wing and instantly feels relived as the crowds die away. The press of supplicants are going in another direction and the various delegates seem to be headed for the round Grand Hall. This area seems more given over the priesthood and other, quieter types. Rudabeh is a bit eased to see Alseta sign's carved into every door lintel, and it gives her peace.
As she makes her way down the hallway, she hears an unfamiliar voice. "Rudabeh of Outsea?" Turning, the undine sees a middle-aged woman standing and looking at her speculatively. The look isn't exactly unfriendly, but it is uncomfortably appraising. Almost mercenary, like a fighter sizing up a surprising foe who steps into the ring.
She is wearing simple priest robes, kept well maintained but showing signs of staining and weathering. Her brown hair is cut short and simple, giving her a no nonsense look, which combined with her somewhat stocky build, makes her looks rather intimidating.
Rudabeh actually stops as she hears the whispering voices. They seemed too specific, like they were meant for her, to be echos from the crowd. While the first two or three people behind her go around the paladin, the next few end up jostling against her and moving her forward by accident.
Giving a shake of her head she continues on so as to not hold up the crowds, putting the suspicious activity in the back of her mind. If there were fey about causing trouble, she would find them...
Breaking from the crowd like a sea turtle out of a school, the undine breathes a sigh of relief. Her pace slows and she can take some time to admire the beautiful, unique architecture of the Grove. This alone would have been worthy of Alseta, but the peace that had been accomplished in these halls...
Her musings are interrupted by a priestess, and a beat passes between them while Rudabeh considers how to respond, having zero recognition of the human. "I am she. May I make your acquaintance, Priestess...?" She finally decides, speaking with even tones and slowly walking over to the caller.
'Dryw.' the woman says, who does not offer her hand (as is custom for both genders in the River Kingdoms).
Rudabeh knows the name. Dryw is one of the most storied and talented of the preist arbiters that have grown up around the Pact of Years in the last few decades. Known for her razor sharp mind and perfect memory, she has spent her time solving some of the most intractable diplomatic problems in the River Kingdoms. In additions he is one of the most pious members of the Alseta clergy, and one of those who have advocated for a move to a more settled and formal hierarchy of priests.
The woman says nothing else, but continues to examine Rudabeh closely, dark blue eyes penetrating. She seems to be searching for something in the undine paladin's face.
Recognition crosses Rudabeh's face, and she stops within a respectable conversation distance. Putting a hand over her heart, she speaks with deep respect and sincerity. "On behalf of the multitude of civilized sentients in the River Kingdoms I would like to thank you for all you've done and continue to do. You are an critical reason the Pact of Years is such a success."
Dryw may not have offered her hand, but Rudabeh does, matching the priestesses' piercing blue gaze with her own perfectly clear blue eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Guantleted fingers hang steadily in the air.
'And yet, it is you who are chosen to be Veleda's heir and not me. Or at least someone like me." The air grows cold at her icy tone. Rudabeh's hand remains unclasped. "Do you not find that interesting?"
Finally the woman breaks the stare, although Rudabeh doesn't feel she has won a battle for dominance. Indeed, Dryw seems disappointed, as if she didn't find what she sought.
Then she shrugs, "But your compliment does your credit and I receive it in honest faith." She seems to mean this and unthaws ever so slightly, "I presume you are here to meet Veleda?"
"I find it very interesting. Perplexing, even." She responds in a neutral tone when Dryw breaks her gaze, hand dropping to her side.
"I do not know why I have been chosen." A flicker of doubt crosses her face, followed by a quick, light sigh. "Because I agree that you are far more qualified than I to replace Veleda. I can only imagine that there is something here we cannot see that Veleda does. But if you, Dwyr, cannot see it... then I will be hopelessly lost in the dark until the blanket covering this enigma is thrown aside."
Rudabeh folds one hand over the other at her waist when she is asked about her business here. "Yes, she has summoned me. For what purpose I do not know, but I hope the entirety of this organization is not suddenly thrust upon me. If that is what Veleda or Alseta wills... I hope I can turn to you for council." A light, warm smile curls onto her lips.
"Let us hope Alseta and Veleda have other plans." The older priestess lowers her voice speaking to herself, "Or any plans at all for that matter."
Resuming her normal speaking voice, "Well, at least you found the right place. Her office is right there." She points to a wooden door that seems like many of the others, except both door posts are made of living trees, branches lost in the ceiling above.
'She is with Vetto right now." Ice creeps back in her tone, although Rudabeh guesses it is aimed at someone else, not her. 'You can wait there until she calls you in." The woman points to a simple straight-backed wooden chair, unadorned, sitting in the hallway.
With a final appraising look, the woman turns on her heel and walks down the hallway. Her stride is firm and brisk, and makes the crowd part around her.
Rudabeh does not react to Dryw's mumbling, instead bowing her head slightly to the older priestess. "I will do that. Thank you and farewell, Dryw." She watches the woman go for a moment, before turning and heading towards the chair. An interesting woman. I hope she does not begrudge me for Veleda's decision. Though if she does, I do not blame her.
Rudabeh stops in front of the chair. An unlikely foe, a chair, but she has to face them often in civilized society. Sitting down with a 5 foot length of steel strapped to your back is a great challenge, but she had developed techniques to prevent embarrassing disasters such as, Alseta forbid, getting stuck in the spindle or backing of the chair.
Using one her highly developed techniques the undine sits slightly off-center in the chair so her scabbard, angled at about 35 degrees to the right on her back, nearly scrapes the ground unimpeded.
Victorious once more over uncooperative furniture, the paladin leans back and starts to unbuckle her helmet's chin-strap. She pulls the brain bucket up and over her head, settling it in her lap. Rudabeh's ears unfurl and stretch with a few rapid flaps before standing proudly upright on her head.
She sits, helmet in lap, waiting and looking for a question to occupy herself. She finds one- Who is Vetto?
The name means nothing to Rudabeh, who ponders it while she waits. It sounds vaguely Galtish though, recalling her time in that land. The thoughts of blood, panic and blind hatred were strange to contemplate here, in this place of quiet peace and harmony. A place where even the building itself was designed around the concept of communal effort.
The undine doesn't have to wait for long.
In only a few minutes, the door opens and a young man slips out, closing the door behind him. His handsome, proud face looks frustrated for a moment, but then he glances toward Rudabeh. Instantly he puts on a warm smile, showing off quite a fine collection of teeth.
His clothes are very fine, yet tasteful and are distinctly Galtish. Rudabeh's memories of that terrible night, fleeing into the darkness, well back up. His fine red robes, trimmed with shimmering black are like a stain on her memory.
He doesn't seem to notice the paladin's discomfort and he bows low, formally. "Vetto Scillari, of Gralton, at your service." He glances up and gives her a grin, "I hope I didn't keep you too long? Veleda mentioned you might be out here."
"Well, assuming you are the right undine paladin, of course." He adds, joking in a friendly fashion as he straightens up and resets his hat at a suitably jaunty angle.
Rudabeh sits, contemplating that terrible night as she had many times before. She bore the scars of the Red Revolution, but in the decades since she had Turned the Mask to it, putting it in the past.
Though she thinks that logically, her body still reacts on seeing the distinctive Galtish clothing of the man in front of her. Without her knowledge she shifts to defensive body language, ears tilting backwards slightly. One of the many ex-Galtans vying for home I'd assume.
Still, she was polite and welcoming, standing up in a clatter of metal. She breaks into a wide grin at his jest. "If you know of any other undine paladins please inform me. Perhaps they have figured out how to use a greatsword underwater."
Helmet under one arm, she extends her other hand for a traditional greeting. "A pleasure, Vetto. I am Rudabeh of Outset. I was in Graltan a few years ago myself. Do you know Dhanaf Jaallos?" She says in an effort to make brief small-talk.
Vetto takes her hand happily, his skin quite warm. 'Yes, Jaalos is a close friend of the family." Rudabeh has the distinct feeling this man has many 'close friends'. 'A bit soft hearted perhaps, but an all too common failing among my people."
His eyes linger on the broadsword strapped Rudabeh's side, but says nothing.
Then he breaks the handshake, leaning back slightly, "So you are the enigmatic Rudabeh? Very interesting. You are...not what I expected."
Then he smiles, 'You seem more friendly then most of these strange and cryptic druids, for one thing. That gives me hope that you may listen to secular counsel, assuming you are in position to do so one day."
"It's good to know he still has friends in the wealthier circles of Gralton." She says diplomatically, though she had to doubt the man's claim. Last she saw Dhanaf Jaallos he was out of money and all he had left was his land and a bunch of angry workers. He couldn't even pay her, giving her the sword currently strapped to her back instead. Hopefully the deal she brokered between his workers and the ex-nobleman still stood- at least they didn't lynch him right after she left.
Dropping the handshake she folds her hands neutrally at her waist. The undine lets out a short, amused chortle at his observations. "You are not the first person to say or imply that today. I believe everyone expected something radically different, including myself." She says with a light smile, referring to Veleda's decision.
"Everyone that wants order in the River Kingdoms has some wisdom to share, and I have always been happy to listen. I do not see that changing, regardless of what Veleda has in store for me." Rudabeh says with sincerity, though there was the subtle suggestion that she should not keep the priestess in question waiting any longer.
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Whatever else Vetto might be, he is at least perceptive. The man bows again, sweeping his plumed hat extravagantly against the floor, "Of course, don't let me keep you. I am sure there will be plenty of chances for us to talk later and discuss your future. I wish you luck in your audience."
After a final grin, he turns and walks down the hallway. Even before getting out of view, he is engaged in another conversation, laughing and joking.
Summing up her courage, Rudabeh steps up to the door, takes a deep breath and opens it. The trees that form the doorposts seems to quake every so slightly, as if welcoming her.
Inside she finds a quite small, austere office. the far wall is taken up by two wide wooden doors, thrown open to the morning air. beyond them the Sellen, swollen and brown with spring rains, flows past, the smell more fresh and clear then Rudabeh is used to.
The office itself is sparse. There is a simple wooden desk and chair, and one humble bookcase. Behind the desk, looking stooped and old sits the woman of legends, the fabled arbiter of the River Kingdoms, the woman who had built this building, this organization...this dream with her own two hands and iron will.
At first glance Veleda isn't much to look at. She is an elderly woman with wispy white hair, pulled back in a tail down her back. Her face is crossed with both worry and laugh lines, deep creases worn into her face, showing the burdens of years. Her hands are layered with blue veins, covered by translucent parchment-liked skin, wrinkled and liver-spotted. There is the slightest tremor there in those ancient hands, the barest hint of unwanted movement. It is not an imposing sight.
The eyes though, sparkling green flecked with brown look as lively as any child's, bright and quick. They locked with Rudabeh's without warning.
With a single glance, the frail old woman falls away and is replaced by a person of command, of power. An almost palpable aura of authority fills the room, but this is not magic, but sheer charisma. A tool carefully honed for decades and as sharp as any greatsword.
The eyes remain fixed on her, and Rudabeh is almost lost in the depths that hide behind them. This is a woman who commanded kings, whose will made and unmade nations across the land, whose wishes were made iron law.
Then the almost reverent silence is broken.
'Welcome, Rudabeh of Outsea. How does Alseta find you today?" Veleda's closes a thin book on her desk, and smiles.
Rudabeh nods to the nobleman as she wishes him farewell. "Thank you, Vetto. I look forward to speaking to you again in the future."
Her unconsciously cautious demeanor melts away, body relaxing as he leaves. She turns to enter Veleda's office, mind blank as her future in this pivotal moment.
Rudabeh observes Veleda as one would look at an ancient and powerful artifact. As the paladin is exposed to her radiant presence and force of personality, it feels as if her very soul has been struck like a gong. The artifact analogy holds true, for this old human contains a force beyond any current understanding.
She must resist the urge to kneel, to throw herself to the floor in supplication to one of the, no, the greatest hero the River Kingdoms have ever seen. She suppresses the urge to gush and heap praise upon Veleda, or to grovel and beg that she was not worthy of even taking account of the priestess' history so great are her accomplishments.
Instead, to her own surprise, Rudabeh's face blossoms into a genuine smile at her question. "Alseta has opened many doors for me today, and finds me well. Thank you, Veleda. How are you?" She somehow speaks evenly, if mechanically, with the same respectful tone she uses for all.
The undine's legs were supposed to be moving while she spoke, but a great anxiety paralyzed her feet. Perhaps all her willpower went into speaking, her brain forgetting about the rest of her body entirely. She seemed stiffly frozen in place, not unwilling but unable to move forward and meet whatever destiny had in store. Failure meant the dissolution of... everything Veleda had accomplished in the River Kingdoms. Could she face that?
The irony hits her once more that if Veleda were an ancient black dragon the paladin would be running, greatsword-first into its acid-spewing maw. Instead, she can barely function in the presence of an old woman.
"Feeling my age, child." The old woman says sighing and turning to place the thin volume on the bookcase.
When she turns back however, there is no sign of weariness. "I would imagine the most interesting door Alseta has opened to you has been mine." She says this frankly, with no attempt at false modesty.
She smiles again, "I am glad you came. I half-feared you would simply flee from the burden I, and others, may seek to place upon your shoulders." She eyes Rudabeh's formidable physique.
"The first test passed, I suppose." The green eyes sparkle, "A time of transition, indeed, child. I am curious, what do you think happens next?" Her voice is warm, inviting, but there is a strength there, enough to bring Rudabeh, despite her armor and training, to her knees if it was unveiled.
While Veleda is speaking she finds the correct brain signals to get her legs moving again, slowly walking forward to the chair in front of her desk.
Sitting slightly off center to accompany her sword, Rudabeh places her helmet to the side and sits up straight.
"Yes. Though interesting may be an understatement. I am glad I came too. I must admit fleeing crossed my mind, but it is my duty to Alseta and the communities of the River Kingdoms to spread order and peace. What better way to do that than serving... You? You who built all this. The greatest stability this land as ever seen. " She says breathlessly, starting to suspect this may be some kind of illusion.
Dispelling the thought with a small shake of her head, the melodrama inherent to her race slips through a little bit, showing how confused she is. "I am hoping what comes next, " she intones, desperation creeping into her voice, "Is why. Why did you choose me? I passed by scores of diplomats, priests, and judges more qualified than I." The last word is punctuated by touching a gauntlet to her heart.
"I am but a warrior. I hunt the agents of chaos, keep monsters from eating people. I am but a simple barrister. I watch farmers trade pigs, defend the unrepresented in court." Her voice does not raise, but the desperation and confusion mounts to a crescendo, face marked with worry.
"I am not a hero like you. I have done nothing to deserve this honorable burden you bless us all with." Winding down, Rudabeh is back to speaking in even tones in but a few moments, face neutral. "So please, help me understand. I am not afraid to open this door if that is what you or Alseta wills. " She says, as if saying it made it true. "But I wish to understand why you have given me the key."
The woman smiles and says simply, "That is something you will not discover for many years, if ever."
The bluntness of this surprised Rudabeh. She hadn't expect a full answer, not really, but disassembly, half-truths, maybe even a lie. But to avoid a question with such confidence, with such control?
Then he voice hardens somewhat, "Do not be mistaken however. While my reasons for choosing may remain opaque, for reason I cannot disclose, I want to make the follow crystal clear. Your choices and actions still matter."
"I will not have you recline on a palanquin of my choice. Doing your duty, for both Alseta and myself will still be the true judge of your character and worthiness. To use your analogy, I have given you the key, but I still expect you to work the lock."
Then the old woman smiles and leans back in her chair, the icy edge to her voice melting away, 'But I have little fear of your devotion. Your record, while humble, is most diligent. Do not deride the humble barrister. For many they are the only door to law people have."
She pauses, then goes on, "So what do you make of the Grove?" She waves a hand at the simple walls of the office and indicating the grand halls, the elegant hallways and offices full of prestigious people.
Rudabeh actually barks a laughs at Veleda's response. Both her own laugh and the priestess' response were unexpected. No, it was absurd, and she was caught so off guard she actually laughed. The paladin covers her mouth and clears her throat in embarrassment, following voice still neutral. "I apologize for the outburst and meant no offense. My laughter was due to surprise alone. That is the very last response I expected, but I have already made my case to the contrary and accept your decision."
Strangely enough, the answer seems to invigorate her. Knowing that she wasn't going to know, that the answer wasn't some long-drawn out strategy in which she played a vital part, was a relief. Ignorance can be bliss. Orders were easy to follow. Perhaps I am just another pawn in the game Veleda has played for decades. If so, I welcome it.
She stands up straighter, snapping her heels together as if she were under inspection by the drill sergeant. Rudabeh's ears are firm, standing tall and straight on her head. "I intend to do no reclining and will perform as best as I am able. Indeed, it is part of my oaths: By Alseta's glory I have sworn to stand by my decisions and take responsibility for my actions."
Relaxing a little at the change of subject, her clear blue eyes sweep over the living interior of Veleda's office. The limpid pupils shine with reverence as she speaks. "The Grove is the crown which rests on the head of the Pact. All participating nations come here seeking the guidance and wisdom of the many incredibly talented people that work here. The tree itself is a literal manifestation of order, grown out of the chaos of life. Not only is it a symbol of your authority, power, and means, it is a beautiful and stunning work of architecture worthy of Alseta. The Grove invigorates all of us that wish to spread order, myself especially." Rudabeh is not attempting to flatter Veleda- she is speaking from the heart, completely truthful and sincere.
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"Yes, and I'm glad you appreciate the symbolism." Veleda says but goes on with impatience, "But there is a deeper meaning, one which you must master." Rudabeh has a feeling the impatience is not directed at her but at the druids herself.
"The Grove is made by using each plant own desires and traits. When I need strong areas in shake I use oaks, when I need tall trees seeking sun I use maples. Each in their turn fulfills its own natural ends, but when guided in just the right direction can serve an even greater combined purpose."
The old woman stands up, chair scraping slightly against the hard stone floor. Gone is any trace of age or weariness and the woman fairly paces.
"This is the key to diplomacy. Any tyrant or bully can coerce others to do what they want, or even to work together through force. But only a true master of negotiation can get those to do this through their own will. Diplomacy must bind together those whoa re not bound, and build bridges over raging rivers through guiding others, to reveal to them the wisdom of cooperation. It is not authority or power, it is the application of wisdom."
She stops then relaxes slightly, "But you will learn this. And the best way to learn is by doing it, as in all things."
She sits back down and stares at the flowing Sellen for a few minutes. After this odd pause she turns back to the paladin, penetrating her with green eyes.
"What do you know of Pitax and jousting?" There is a smile on her lips again.
Rudabeh readily and quietly absorbs the lesson, revealing in Veleda's wisdom. Her head tracks the woman as she paces about the office, intrigued that the priestess can switch between frail and powerful as it suits her.
"I do not know much of trees and plants, but I understand your meaning. I try to foster cooperation through compromise alone, but that is at the ground level. If this will be my duty I understand I must begin thinking at a higher level, one above the individuals involved." The paladin responds during the small silence that follows.
As the small silence stretches into several minutes Rudabeh continues to stand firm, helmet tucked under her arm. She excudes patience, waiting her next lesson or question.
The specificness of inquiry was sudden and unexpected, and the undine takes a moment to consider, looking out at the Sellen.
Her ears fold down slightly, shaking her head. "Unfortunately I know little of both. I do not know where Pitax is, but I do know it is under the torturous yoke of the tyrant Castruccio Irovetti. Specifically, he is the breed of tyrant that believes themself a god, sadly an all too common feature of the River Kingdoms. I have never participated in jousting myself and have never been part of a calvary, but I have seen a local tournament or two, both on land and in Outsea." Briefly explaining the last point for the benefit of Veleda, she smiles lightly. "They rode giant seahorses. Majestic, if skiddish, creatures. It appeared difficult to even get the creatures to charge."
Veleda smiles back, "Then maybe seeing one with actual horses will be somewhat fresh and new to you."
The old woman raises an eyebrow at Rudabeh's description of Pitax, "I would watch your tongue when you find yourself there. Few men consider themselves tyrants. While some of Irovetti's laws are unjust and harsh, I am not sending you to stand judgement over him. If we only dealt with the wise and fair, we would have precious few delegates in the Pact. I will note his delusions to godhood tend to be an exaggeration of rivals, at least as far as I have found."
The reproof is mild but real, as the woman goes on, "Pitax is hosting a grand jousting tournament, along with other lesser diversions. I am not sure who is attending but they have asked for a representative from the Pact to judge the contest."
"Needless to say, I am sending you. While the job is of minor import, it will be an excellent time for me to see you in action on a larger stage. I doubt I need to tell you the tournament is a political event not a sporting one. You are there to keep the peace and monitor events, not so much there to judge archery rulings." The old woman smiles then, at old memories, "Although they will probably ask you to do so. It can be a fun distraction to witness honest men engage in sport."
Rudabeh takes her rebuke gracefully, bowing her head in apology. "If he is less of a megalomaniac than the rumors say I will not have a problem. I have little tolerance for those that masquerade as gods. In any case I do not intend on forming a true opinion of the man until I have met him, and have even less intention of interfering with his affairs."
The notion of monitoring such a political event intrigued her, the undine's eyebrows raising slightly. I have judged contests of sport before, but nothing on such a grand scale. "I will do my best to accomplish the duties ascribed and thank you for the opportunity to prove myself useful. Once the events have concluded should I return to the Grove, or will my next instructions be delivered mundanely or magically?"
There is a gleam of something like... humor on Veleda's face but it vanishes before Rudabeh can be sure. In any case the older woman goes on, "Do not get overly worried. I don't expect any outsiders to attend this event. Few other rules visit each other lands due to the arcane rules. Courts are for Kings after all." she says, quoting one of the River Freedoms.
"So mostly internal affairs but that should be enough for you to deal with. Step carefully. You know as well as anyone the sudden depths of the River Kingdoms, even in known waters."
The old woman stands up and walks over to the wide open doors, and takes a deep breath of the surprisingly clean river air. Why didn't it smell like old fish and rotten weeds like the Sellen usually did?
"As for your next mission, it will depend on what comes up." She turns and smiles, and suddenly looks like a young girl, pleased with her own cleverness. "Sometimes I just make it up as I go!"
She grins, as if letting Rudabeh in on a hidden joke. As she does so there is a knock at the door. The transformation is startling as Veleda moves from mischievous girl to impassive old woman.
'Who is it?" She asks, eyes fixed on the door.
'Delegate Amboris." A deep and resonant voice.
'Ah, Liberthane." The druid says, perhaps to Rudabeh, perhaps to herself.
The woman turns to the young undine paladin, "Anything else before I set you loose on the world?"
Rudabeh catches the strange expression on the priestess' face, but it is gone before she has any indication it was ever there. The paladin nods in affirmation to the River Freedoms, the only real unifying, codified laws that existed between the various states.
A playful smile breaks out across Rudabeh's face, followed by a chortle at Veleda words. "I somehow suspect you "making it up as you go" includes a few decades ahead. " She comments, Veleda sudden mischievousness reminding her of the playfulness inherently between the members of her own family.
The knock on the door causes Rudabeh to turn and watch the portal closely, turning back when the knocker is identified. She was not aware of the person and only vaguely aware of the place, but neither mattered.
"I have a final question. If there is any secret you can share with me today, it is this one. How does the Sellen smell so impossibly good here when a mile upstream it reeks of fetid sewage from Daggermark? How is the air so pure here, yet the nearby city's sky is mostly composed of burning trash?" Rudabeh was genuinely curious. As an aqueous creature she was quite sensitive to polluted waters and tended to avoid them- swimming in the Sellen this close to the city was a good way to get sick.
Veleda raises, "Being a druid has certain benefits, as you can imagine." she raises a hand melodramatically and the scent of the air is suddenly tinged with the scent of orange blossoms. The smell wafts through the air, almost filtering through Rudabeh's skin.
The old arbiter lowers her hand and the scent vanishes, "I enjoy the smell is all. A small secret, if it is one."
Then she grows somewhat more serious, 'May Alseta watch over you, Rudabeh of Outsea. You take your first step through a new door and many transformations lie ahead of you. I will do what I can to aid you."
With a sudden movement, she crosses the room and raised a hand. She touches Rudabeh's forehead in benediction and there is a slight warmth that vanishes before the paladin can even be sure it happened.
Before she can reply the door opens, and a tall imposing man steps in. He is wearing the blue and whites robes of a Delegate, which flow across the floor in broad sweeps. Broad shoulders and a wide chest, Rudabeh instantly recognizes a fellow warrior, or at least a former one. His sharp dark eyes dart from Veleda to Rudabeh and back.
"Your replacement?" he asks bluntly, as if Rudabeh wasn't even there.
The old druid, who barely comes up to the man's elbow looks unconcerned at both his entry and his rudeness. Indeed she glances to Rudabeh, signaling the paladin to speak instead.
Rudabeh breathes deeply, her mind's eye imagining an orchard in full bloom along the Taldor coast. The scent was soon gone, but the sensation still lingered. "Lovely. It is no wonder you get so many visitors in your office." She jokes, a small smile playing on her lips.
As Veleda becomes serious so too does the paladin, standing up straight while receiving the woman's blessing. "Thank you, Veleda. I will turn the key you have given me and walk steadily. It is an honor to have your assistance through these transitions."
She was expecting a figurative blessing, but when the priestess crosses the room with sudden speed and touches her forehead the paladin finds herself given what felt like a real blessing. Before she can open her mouth to ask what happened, an imposing barrel of a man had entered the chambers.
His rudeness slides off of her easily- she was more concerned he barged through a door without permission. Regardless, she extends a gauntleted hand towards him. "One day. Rudabeh of Outsea. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
She attempts to get a read on the man, watching him carefully. His first impression hadn't been stellar.
Amboris is a big man, with a heavy dark beard (well trimmed). His neck is thick with sinew that speaks to long physical exertion, although Rudabeh guesses it is many years since this man lifted a sword.
The man eyes her hand for a moment then grasps it. Rudabeh suspects he is the type to crush a handshake, thankfully her armor prevents such trivial displays of dominance.
"The pleasure is all mine." he says automatically before adding, "So this is what we will have to deal with? An armored soldier." he speaks over Rudabeh's head to Veleda. "That will be a change of pace. So, finding her here...I imagine you are ignoring my suggestion?"
Veleda takes this words in, her face like carved wood, unreadable.
"Not ignored, Delegate. I have merely come to a different conclusion then you."
Amboris actually grins his teeth and replies, "So this is final then?" he waves a hand at the paladin, dismissively. "Despite the will of the Pact?"
Veleda raises a single eyebrow but when she speaks her words are iron, "Do not confuse your wishes with those of the Pact, Delegate. Your forget your place. As for my successor, that is my affair."
The old woman turns to Rudabeh and says, voice still hard, 'You have your orders. Go now and do what Alseta and I ask for you." Then she turns back to Amboris, and the towering man actually takes half a step back under those green eyes.
Rudabeh's hand is fortunately spared having to be healed thanks to her armor, and she is very glad to have kept it on for the visit.
In the water it didn't matter how tall someone else was, you could always tread water or float at their eye level. It was on land that such a luxury of Aquatic life became apparent. She was not quite used to dealing with creatures taller than her, but looked upward to meet his gaze nonetheless.
She had no intention of getting involved in the disagreement between Amboris and Veleda, taking a small step back when the big man expresses his disappointment in the current situation. The priestess could handle herself against an army, one man was nothing.
Rudabeh's dismissal was welcome, the paladin bowing her head and exiting without another word. Shutting the door behind her, she finds an overwhelming desire to slump against the door and wonder what this was all about. I have no answers and a dark, looming hallway of a future before me.
The urge was resisted. Her duty, her orders, and the glory of Alseta awaited. I must focus on the task at hand. Alseta will show me the gateways if I trust her will. She takes her helmet from her armpit, folds back her ears and settles the armor into place. Striding forward she tightens the chin strap, trying to stand tall and confident on her way out of the Grove.
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The trip between Daggermark and Pitax is not a quick one. As everything moves by water in the River Kingdoms, Rudabeh must first travel down the West Sellen, skirting past Tyomon and Sevenarches. Then across the confluence of the Sellen at Kallas Lake to the main Sellen channel.
Then her trail leads northward, through Gralton, Touvette until she finally reaches the petty kingdom of Pitax. Like most cities, Pitax (also the name of the capital) lies on the river's bank so there is no overland travel at all.
Rudabeh is no stranger to travel (although even for her, this is a long haul) and she falls into an easy rhythm. Independent rivermen are her main conveyance.
These men and women spend their entire lives on the water, living on their vessels, plying the waters, transporting both goods and passengers. They are an independent lot, the real lifeblood of the River Kingdoms are bind the area together. Skilled in the ways of the river, many know every sandbank, every rapid, each fishing spot. The difference between an experienced guide and a fool is death on the river. There is a reason the River Kingdoms have never fallen to outside invasion. Entire armies have vanished into the endless muck and swamp of the river.
Rudabeh is relived to find, outside of Daggermark, her name is unknown. While the fact that Veleda is picking a heir is somewhat common knowledge, the name and race of her successor is not something average people talk about. Also, most of the riverfolk worship Hanspur more then Alseta, and pay less attention to the Pact.
Rudabeh is no stranger to this, but due to recent events, pays more attention then usual to religious conversation. She quickly realizes there are two main Hanspur factions. One group simply gives the god his grudging due, as a way to ward off danger, treating Hanspur like one would deal with a erratic bandit prince. A gruff reserved obedience in order to make a living.
Another group however, worships out of a sense of devotion, a devotion just as real and vibrant as her own for Alseta. While Rudabeh meets no priests of Hanspur on this trip, many of her pilots seem to be quite devout to the god of the Sellen. A common practice seems to be offering a small gift to the god when starting a journey or when navigating tricky passages in the river.
Other traffic is common and diverse. Many are small simple craft like her own, fit for three or four people are mist, moved more by pole then oar. Then there are larger vessels moving goods from city to city, loaded with everything from food to candles to metal. These ships are larger and often rowed by well-trained crews who make the same runs every season (as such they are dismissed by the 'real rivermen' who travel the width and breath of the Sellen). Last are the great cargo ships headed for downstream markets such Kyonin, Galt, Andoran and even Taldor. Loaded mostly with bulk items such as lumber or stone, Rudabeh has the feeling smuggling into those nations is on a grander scale then she realized. A huge part of the economy of the River Kingdoms revolves around sneaking small but valuable items into the great southern nations.
But as she sees Pitax loom on the horizon, like a dark shadow, her thoughts naturally turn to her mission. While Veleda had minimized both the risks and responsibility, Rudabeh can't help but feel a little nervous. This was her first time venturing forth not as a mere defender of law and justice (she had been doing that for years) but as a direct representative of the Pact of Years itself. Her. Alone. They would be looking to her not only for guidance and justice, but also for reassurance to effectiveness and capability of the Pact. In a very real way, even now, she carried Veleda's weight on her shoulder's. It felt oppressive.
The weather was not helping. It was a gray and rainy day, with the low clouds dumping a steady rain. Her current river pilot, a dark woman named Shrest, guided the boat nimbly toward Pitax. A quiet one, she had rarely spoken during their days together, obviously happy to simply listen to the river.
Slowly that dark smudge resolves itself into Pitax, and her little boat edges toward it. A small network of piers, warehouses and other riverside buildings fronts the river. Troutmouth the district is called, Rudabeh remembers, a fairly routine place of business and trade. The other docks seem half-empty, and the rain seems to have driven the usual hustle and bustle of a River Kingdom dock inside for the day.
The buildings are made of local lumber, rather crudely nailed together, interspersed with more expensive stone here and there. More unusually, there are large statues and monolithic masks space out on the river side, as if keeping watch. Made of blank, unwashed stone, the over-sized art merely emphasizes the abandoned feeling of the quay.
'Do you care where we tie up?" Shrest asks, eyes on the drab looking city.'It seems we have our choice today."
The trip to Pitax was a grand one, and while she had never taken the journey herself she knew the river pilots of the Sellen would get her there.
The downriver journey from Daggermark to Kallas lake was always a quick one, and she rarely got time to know her pilots before being dropped off at the next town. Still, it was enough time to watch the great barges trundle past on their way south. She often wondered how much poison from Daggermark made its way into the wider world, how many vessels carried the inevitable death of someone thousands of miles away.
The journey northwest up the Sellen was much slower going, but it didn't bother her. She had traveled the River Kingdoms by herself for over a decade and found she enjoyed the day-to-day life poling up and down the river.
Rudabeh didn't have much to worry about, after all. Unlike most of the pilots she had no fear of drowning, and most river monsters were no match for her spear. She knew how to pole and drive watercraft herself in case anything were to happen to her guide, though she lacks their local expertise. Her journeys up and down the river were not only anxiety free but actually relaxing. Having spent half her life on a ship, the rocking of the boat and sounds of the Sellen were as soothing as a mother's lullaby to her.
Thus she spent most days in a small boat, chatting with the pilot (if they were the talkative type... Most weren't), reading whatever local books she could purchase, and engaging in her travel hobby- fishing.
The human method of small-scale fishing amused her greatly. String on a pole with hook and bait? It was the most roundabout method for catching fish ever concieved, the epitome of inefficiency, but she loved the challenge. So she sat with a line tossed over the side of the boat, a lead weight controlling the depth to stay just above the riverbed, a wiggling morsel affixed to her hook to entice a hungry catfish. A paragon of patience, she would wait for a bite as they poled up the river, never growing angry at a snagged branch or detris; but always celebrating a catch.
Of course, this was all for fun, and it didn't slow down travel. If she truly desired some fish she could dive in with her spear for a few minutes and catch ten times what she could line-and-hook in an hour.
Though, desire fish she did. Unsurprisingly the undine's diet consisted mostly of fish, especially while she was on the river. She could eat it cooked or raw (which she called "Outsea style" to the uninitiated) without complications or preference, though she would usually roast the fish around landlubbers- she had found consuming raw fish in front of them made many very uncomfortable.
As the grey blob of Pitax looms in the distance her thoughts turn to her duty. Veleda's influence and political weight, now over 200 hundred miles away, could still be felt pressing down on her as hard as ever. When Rudabeh traveled as a judge and paladin she had no one's reputation but her own to worry about. How easy that life had been compared to representing the largest and most coherent force of law and order the River Kingdoms had ever seen.
"Take your pick, I have no preference." She replies to Shrest without taking her eyes off the large stone masks lining the docks. Rain falls on the paladin's brown cloak, mostly drumming into her hood. She didn't mind the rain of course, but her equipment did not coexist as well with water as she did. As such she took measures to protect it from rusting. It also helped her blend in and seem more "normal" to the locals. Walking around sopping wet in the rain with a smile on your face was not a good way to encourage positive human interaction.
"Are the piers always this deserted, or is it just the rain?" It was a tactical question- Rudabeh knew the answer, but she enjoyed giving her guides a reason to feel like they earned their pay at the end of the journey.
'It is the rain." Shrest says. River pilots tend to be informal and rarely use titles unless their passengers insist. 'Although, the number of boats is more then usual. It does not look it since Pitax used to be a much larger city, in my grandmother's time."
Shrest eyes the docks with an experienced eye. "Yes, the city is getting full. Others must be coming to your joust. Locals though, from what I can tell." A good river pilot not only knows the river but knows the other vessel on her. Rudabeh has no doubt Shrest is exactly right.
The woman easily poles them onto a long wooden dock. It is well-made but poorly maintained with the piles covered in freshwater mussels and seaweed. The muddy Sellen curls around the dock, angry as always, that something impedes its stream.
Just as Rudabeh is paying Shrest and wishing the river pilot well, a voice calls from the shadow of an imposing warehouse.
The paladin turns and peers through the falling rain. There, huddled under a heavy black cloak is a small man, face and form hidden. He waves toward her, becking her to come closer.
"Rudabeh? From Daggermark?" the voice is plaintive, and, somehow, sounds soaked.
Rudabeh received all the answers she was expecting. "Excellent. Hopefully that means all is well in Pitax." She eyes the docks as they pull up, a little disappointed no one has scraped the muscles off the pier. Most of those were good to eat!
She steps out of the boat and begins to pay the woman when a voice interrupts her. Clear blue eyes sweep over the figure, and though she has no outward reaction they certainly looked suspicious.
Without calling back she finishes paying the River woman. "Thank you, and safe travels, Shrest. May Alseta guide you to the door of a warm and dry inn." She picks her spear up from the inside of the boat, which had been her constant companion on the river journey. The paladin's imposing greatsword was safely in the extra-dimensional space of her bag of holding, for its usefulness in the water was negligible.
She flips the spear up and backhand along her arm, point on the inside of her cloak. It was not in any effort to hide the weapon or to even appear armed, but to keep the cold iron tip from getting any more wet than it already had.
Rudabeh begins walking towards the cloaked figure, lifting her free hand in greeting. "Greetings! I am Rudabeh of Outsea, arriving from Daggermark." Her voice projects over the falling rain and clanking steps of her armor. "I'm afraid you know me, but I am not acquainted, Mr...?"
Her voice is friendly, but she studies the man's aura carefully as she approaches.
Rudabeh sizes up the man and sees no sign of Chaos about him.
The man sneezes as she walks up, a loud wet sound. Finally, shaking his head he says, "My name is Druxan, mad'am. High privy Chancellor to His Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence, Castruccio Irovetti." he says the last part with an easy rote. Apparently he is forced to say the convoluted title often.
'I...I have been waiting for you." he says, "This accursed rain." he mutters to himself before pulling his hood back slightly. Rudabeh catches a glance of a gray-haired head and watery blue eyes. The man doesn't shake her hand but not out of rudeness, but habit. Perhaps Pitax is not a land of handshakes?
"I have a coach around the corner waiting for us. We can travel to the First Palace in comfort, at least. I apologize that you find our grand city in such a miserable state. The weather can be so unkind."
He waves a skinny arm around a towering, monolithic face to the street beyond. Sitting there is a fine black coach, drawn by two glossy horses. Horses are a sign of considerable wealth in the River Kingdoms, with pasturage being rare. More status symbol then truly useful in the swampy landscape, usually they are reserved for kings or grand merchants.
A stocky groom waits alongside the coach, looking thoroughly drenched but face unreadable.
"We most appreciate the Pact of Years sending a representative of your caliber to our city." he pauses and then adds, voice barely audible over the drumming rain, "What title do you prefer, madam? Your introduction failed to include one."
Then Rudabeh notices a squad of guards, on foot, standing some distance behind the coach. They look like hard men, accustomed to street fighting. They bear heavy clubs and stout wooden shields.
"Just our guards" Rudabeh's host says lightly, "Nothing to be alarmed about."
Rudabeh's posture softens as the man identifies himself. If anything, she felt a bit sorry for him. He was clearly sick, standing in the rain, and had been waiting for her for... Days, at least? What kind of High Chancellor is sent to wait on a dock for days? An attempt to impress me, perhaps? They must think highly of Veleda and the Pact.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Druxan. On the contrary, your city looks like it is in a fine state." She says in measured tones, glancing about at the "grand city" in its "miserable state". "I believe the rain brings out some underappreciated colors we often don't see in the sunlight, though you might imagine with my heritage I am biased." A slight smile curls at the edge of her blue lips.
She follows the man around the corner, eyeing the horses and coach. The undine had little experience with horses and sought to keep it that way. Anywhere worth going in the River Kingdoms was by the river, after all.
Limpid eyes flick to the guards, holding her gaze for a moment before turning back to Druxan. " No title is necessary, but if I must have one for the sake of procedure, then "Paladin of Alseta" is as grand as the goddess has seen to make me."
There is no comment about the guards, but she wonders. Perhaps they are not trying to impress me, and this is all they have. Regardless, I could have walked to the tournament and not cared.
'Well said, well said indeed." The High Privy Chancellor says to her remark about colors.
He leads her to the coach, saying, "Then Paladin of Alseta it will be." he waves to the groom who opens the coach door and helps Rudabeh inside, the black carriage.
As the stocky grooms helps her inside, the paladin feels his hand touch her side briefly and...places something in her pocket. The object is light and flat, prehaps a folded note of some type? With no reaction, the man then closes Druxan and Rudabeh inside the carriage.
The air inside smells of old cloth and spiderwebs, a dry musty scent. The seat sinks heavily under her heavy armor and for a moment Rudabeh is worried the aged contraption can't take her weight. But no disaster strikes and soon the carriage is rolling through the muddy streets.
Druxan blows his nose on a battered handkerchief and says, 'I was worried you may miss the opening of the Grand and Illuminated Festival. It begins tomorrow, at noon. It should be a splendid spectacle and everyone says the rain will pass by then." He smiles, eyes gleaming in the dim light. His skin is pale and haggard and he does look sick.
Before climbing into the carriage Rudabeh puts away her spear, its usefulness limited in what could, on a good day, be considered civilized society even with armed thugs hanging about. She brought the bag around front, snapping the metal clasp open. The weapon was placed in butt-first and dropped, causing it to dramatically vanish into the sack. Re-clasping the bag and swinging it onto her back once more, she makes a mental note to clean the water off the spear when she has a free moment, and then accepts the groom's help into the carriage.
Rudabeh glances back at the groom when she feels his hand brush the inside of her pocket, but says nothing and continues into the carriage. A note perhaps? I have not even dried off and already the intrigue and politics has begun. The undine thinks, jaded by years of people trying to bribe her or otherwise influence her decisions when she acted as a traveling judge.
The paladins brows furrow slightly, and she looks distant for a moment. I do not know if I was supposed to notice who slipped something in my pocket, but I doubt I am meant to read it immediately. I am sure I will find a private moment soon. Distracted by her own thoughts, she barely registers what Druxan was saying until it beats her frontal lobe like a club.
"Oh! I almost missed the opening ceremony? She is shocked out of the world of intrigue, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. "I am am fortunate I arrived when I did. You know, my last few rivermen were highly competent... Alseta must have made a deal with Hanspur to ensure I made it on time." She was only half joking. Given her possible future appointment as the leader of the Pact of Years, she has no idea how much of the goddess' attention is on her. It could have very well happened.
Rudabeh is mildly concerned about the Chancellor's health, but she is a warrior, not a priest or doctor, and there was nothing she could do for him.
"Well, I am here and that is good. What is our itenary when we reach the First Palace?" She comments, quite interested in what they had planned for her.
The High Privy Chancellor looks a bit surprised at this question but goes on smoothly, only swaying somewhat with the motion of the carriage.
"You will have a formal audience with His Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence of course. His excellency is most eager to meet with a Pact representative, of course. There is to be a formal feast afterwords, and then you may retire to the rooms we have laid out for you in the Palace."
The man smiles, "The apartments are only second to where the His Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence Irovetti stays. You should be most comfortable during your stay."
Outside the carriage sloshes through mud and puddles. Rudabeh is bit bothered that the thing has no windows and she feels slightly cut off from the outside world.
"Excellent. I am looking forward to meeting Irovetti myself, and the other members of his court." She says evenly, glancing at the side of the carriage as if it would make a window appear. This is worse than the hold of a ship. At least you know you can go above deck.
Turning her blue eyes back onto the High Chancellor, she continues to make conversation. "You are not his majordomo I know, but are there any protocols I will need to follow while in Irovetti's court?"
The note feels like a sack of fishing weights in her pocket. She wants to take it out, but it would be incredibly rude to read in front of Druxan when she could be talking to him instead.
Druxan merely shrugs, "You are the honored guest of all of Pitax. It is we who seek to make you comfortable. As I have said, you honor us by your visit to participate in our esteemed spectacle. Nearly any allowance is made for a visitor as august as you."
And then it is clear. Pitax hopes to cement their ties to the Pact with this visit. Interestingly, so far, the High Privy Chancellor has not mentioned her heir-ship to Veleda. Do they know?
The carriage squelches through some more side streets and then finally hits hard stone. It comes to a rest, rains till drumming on the wooden exterior.
Druxan nods and holds up a hand to wait.
Shortly the groom is back, opening the door for them. His hard-bitten face is utterly unreadable as helps the two passengers out of the carriage.
Rudabeh finds herself in a small city square, paved with heavy gray stone. It seems to be ceremonial,f or it lacks the usual collection of carts, stalls and signs of life Rudabeh is used to finding in city centers. This is, instead, an imposing and sterile display of wealth. Indeed, the buildings around the square, either find homes or elegant shops, seem to hang back from the open area, as if uncertain.
Dead ahead is an oddly shaped building Rudabeh guesses must be the palace. It is shaped like a crescent Moon, the horns pointed toward her. The building, made out of a unpainted but creamy white stone, looks well-made and solid. A thick colonnade of columns fronts the entire area in front of her, creating a sort of porch that seems to engulf her. Among the towering columns are massive over life-sized statues of people. Some are warriors, swinging swords, others are farmers wielding scythes, and fishers grappling with nets. Rudabeh even spots a priestess (who looks a bit like Veleda) with a humble staff. Another is Calstira, with twin wasps at her side.
Cloaked guards stand among the dreary shadows, looking like matched figures out of the same mold. heavy spears rest in their hands, hard eyes scanning the square for danger.
Druxan waves a hand, "The First Palace."
The revelation of Pitax's request for her visit slowly dawns on the paladin. By requesting a Pact representative to watch over the games they are signaling their willingness to cooperate and be subjected to its regulations. It is not an outright declaration of fealty, but an indication they will work with us.
Now feeling more like a dignitary rather than a judge and peacekeeper, Rudabeh shifts her attention to the upcoming events. "That is most kind of you, Druxan. I hope you will find that I do not need many accommodations. I am here to be of service to you and your lord after all, regardless of the arbitration subject."
Putting up the hood of her cloak, she accepts the help of the mysterious message-passing groom and steps out of the carriage. Her eyes sweep across the square, finding its contents... alien. The lack of life was bizarre, especially considering the multitude of artworks scattered about the plaza.
"How charming." She flatly if sincerely comments, waiting for her guide to lead her forward. "Irovetti lives up to his reputation as a patron of the arts, and the artisans of Pitax are highly skilled."
The disciple of Alseta was particularly interested in the palace's architecture and unique shape. "The palace itself is likewise grand. Alseta would certainly be pleased by its design."
But only its design Rudabeh thinks, once again considering the lack of life in the square. Alseta would not be pleased by its utility I suspect. This square would be better served as a square of the people, for their purposes, instead of a static display of wealth. The palace too should be a place of petition where citizens can freely come and go.
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Druxan seems to miss the edge in Rudabeh's compliments, and takes them at face value.
"Oh, yes, His Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence has taken great pains to create an oasis of high culture and art in Pitax. He has turned our humble city into one of the finest in the River Kingdoms. The Academy of the Arts created the statues you see around you and helping design the palace itself."
Still sniffling slightly, the High Privy Chancellor guides Rudabeh across the empty square, and up the stairs. Rudabeh notices the stairs are inlaid with carvings of several classic stories of the River Kingdoms such as Ostell and the Dragon, The Tale of the Riverman and most impressive all seven Parables of Hanspur. The artwork is impressive if overdone, with every character seeming to be at the height of some emotion.
The guards watch them silently, water dripping from cloaks and spears. Rudabeh's footfalls sound heavy in her ears, echoing through the formidable Palace entry.
Soon they leave the rain behind, passing under a massive threshold carved to seem like the mouth of a great blank face.
The entryway is a cold, marble-laden room which they pass through quickly, and Druxan barely notes yet more guards waiting inside. The inside guards, instead of heavy cloaks, are wearing trimmed robes of red and gold. They still have that hard, experienced look, with scars to match.
Druxan pushes open a set of heavy doors, inlaid with swirling onyx and obsidian. "The audience chamber, Paladin of Alseta."
The door swings easily and Rudabeh steps into another grand room.
The audience chamber is long and low, flagged with heavy creamy stone. Twin rows of columns march down the room, smooth and solid, gleaming in firelight. Rudabeh notices the floor is made up of many small stairs, each only a few inches high. It creates a nearly unnoticeable rise toward the other end of the room, a surprisingly subtle effect.
At the far end, flanked by twin roaring fires, is a stone throne. It is made of the same white stone, covered with intricate abstract carvings and designs, a swirling mass that makes Rudabeh's head spin.
She tears her eyes away from it however, and looks at the man seated on it. Castruccio Irovetti, His Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence of Pitax, is an older man, probably in his late fiftes. A head of white hair matches a small, well-trimmed beard. His skin shows little of the wear and tear the River Kingdoms often impart on inhabitants. The robes are gold trimmed but not overly ostentatious and seem to be a darker version of the usual upper class garb. In one hand he holds a jeweled specter, inlaid with jade and other exotic stones. Compared to his understated clothes, it is ridiculously ornate but it does match the rather overdone art scheme Rudabeh has seen so far.
As they step inside, Druxab clears his throat and says loudly, "Rudabeh of Outsea, Paladin of Alseta and representative of the Pact of Years."
Silence reigns as the older man considers her, as if sizing her up.
Rudabeh follows along, looking up at each statue they pass by. The quality was certainly good, though it seemed to lack something. People to appreciate it, perhaps.
"After my duties are complete I would be interested in touring the Academy of Arts. My mother and brother are both artists, and I am quite fond of meeting other creatives." The statues on display here were the work of children compared to her brother Ondev's marvelous sculptures, but it simply wasn't fair to put almost anyone's work on his level.
Moving into the palace she starts to get the idea that someone at the Academy of Arts really likes the face motif, or perhaps that was Irovetti? It was difficult to say if the man himself was responsible for all the over-stylized and emotional pieces she passed, or if the Academy of Arts had a taste for the dramatic.
She casts sidelong glances at the guards standing about. Tough men that have seen more than one battle. Irovetti may enjoy the pomp of royalty but he does not take risks on his protectorate.
Rudabeh barely has time to take in the carvings as Druxan speeds along, but she figures there will be plenty of time to inspect the sights later. If there was one thing she had learned about humans it was that they were always in a hurry- an unfortunate side effect of a short lifespan, most likely.
Tossing back the hood of her cloak, Rudabeh unhitches the chinstrap of her helmet, drawing the simple but well-polished armor off. Her ears fold out and stretch, a few flaps later reaching their full height. The helmet is tucked snuggly under her arm against the side of her breastplate. She does nothing to her thick black hair, which has managed to hold together in a tight bun low on the back of her neck.
The paladin stands tall and strides into the into the room, stopping and taking in the sights of the admittedly impressive audience chamber for a moment while Irovetti draws his first impression.
Turning bright and clear eyes to the king, she bows her head towards him, the same greeting she uses for everyone. She does take the opportunity to speak first however, her pleasing and steady mezzo-soprano voice projects well in the chamber.
"Thank you for seeing this humble servant of Alseta on such short notice, King Irovetti. I have been informed by your High Chancellor that the games begin tomorrow, and I apologize for not arriving sooner. If I had I could have toured the inspiring works of art and architecture your city is known for, of which I have only received the smallest, but sublime, taste. Please allow me to extend my services as a neutral arbitor, Paladin of Alseta, and a representative of the Pact of Years for as long as my feet touch your soil, to both you and your people, as you see fit." She finishes her introductory speech without flaws, clearly enuciating with feeling and sincerity.
Rudabeh's words ring out throughout the chamber and she notes they are nearly alone. There is her, Druxan at her side, Irovetti and one or two shadowy servants behind his throne.
At her words the old man stands up, smiling broadly.
"Excellent! Excellent! Veleda said she was sending you, but I wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or merely joking."
He drops the old druid's name without care, as if referencing an old friend. His voice is slightly hoarse but easy-going, well practiced, with just a hint of joviality overlaid with a simple comradely spirit.
Using his ornamented specter like a staff, he begins moving across the Audience Hall toward Rudabeh. Staff or no, he seems quite nimble for his age and crosses the distance quickly.
"Did you have a safe trip?" He says, voice still highly informal, despite the setting, "I know the spring floods sometimes put the river pilots...out of their depths."
He grins at his own pun, striding across the room. Closer, Rudabeh gets a better look at the sovereign of Pitax. His eyes are a simple brown, and hair thinning. While his skin lacks the harshness of a life out of doors, his face is still lean and his eyes are sharp. Although he may have been living an easy life for many years, there is nothing soft about this man.
Still smiling he comes within easy speaking distance, "Yes, I am glad you managed to arrive on time, Paladin. I was worried I may have to pause on starting events. It would not do to start contests without a judge!" His eyes twinkle and he says, "Your compliments about the art are well-placed. It is a subject close to my heart and I am glad you appreciated the glimpses you received."
Rudabeh wasn't sure exactly what she was expecting out of the man, but when he starts speaking she at least decides that not all of the rumors could be true.
The paladin continues to stand straight as he approaches, actually cracking a smile at his pun. She had a special weakness for water puns. The Aquan language had nearly 100 unique words for different varieties of water, and the potential for puns had sparked something of a national fascination past time in Outsea. Of course Taldan had fewer words for water, but it could still be as entertaining.
"I had an uneventful trip to be honest. Floods are no problem for me as you may imagine, and yet our stout river pilots show even less fear than I." She comments, having great respect for the hardy river folk, even if they don't usually worship her goddess.
Rudabeh's easy smile continues as he speaks, shaking her head slightly. "I would be mortified if you had to pause on my account. My assigned duty is merely observation, but I am happy to lend my opinion if it is needed. Surely the games would go on without me."
She glances at his scepter, now able to observe it with impunity. It was huge and gaudy, but at least it was consistent and got the point of wealth across- which was probably its purpose. "My family has a few artists in it. Sadly I am not one of them, but I still have a great appreciation."
'Yes, yes, same with me. I cannot draw a straight line, but a true artists at work." The older man sighs, "There is nothing quite like it, no? A further proof the Gods have blessed us, if we needed any."
Without turning the man says, "We shall dine in the Lodge room tonight. Get the other guests seated."
Druxan bows and scuttles out. The shadowy servants behind the throne vanish into the gloom, leaving Rudabeh and the lord of Pitax alone in the Audience Chamber.
Irovetti's eyes scan her, slightly squinted. When he speaks his voice has lost a bit of the friendly air, the forced conviviality. "So, Veleda sends me her heir..." he says thoughtfully, "And her first mission to boot, as far as I can tell. So what lesson should I take from this, my young friend?"
He leans a bit more on his staff, relaxing slightly, "And do not say nothing. Every one of Veleda's moves means something, for those with eyes to see them." He doesn't say this coldly. If anything, there is a distinct note of respect in his words.
The sudden and rapid disappearance of the servants was telling- it was not wise to doddel when Irovetti gives an order. Likewise, his sudden change in demeanor when they are alone told her there was more to the man than could be seen at face value. Suddenly the mask and face motifs seemed much more on the nose.
Concentrating briefly on the man's aura while he speaks, she teases out any signs of chaos emanating from his soul.
"If there is any lesson to be learned, it is for both of us. My instructions were to only act as a repsentative and judge as you requested, King Irovetti." Rudabeh says evenly and honestly, her demeanor and tone unchanged even as Irovetti's does.
"I am not privvy to Veleda's grand plans, but if you will humor my speculations on the true purpose of my visit I believe it is twofold. Firstly, my presence demonstrates that Veleda is serious about respecting your commitment to the Pact of Years. You are, after all, the first and only officially recognized ruler I have met since Veleda chose me as heir. If I perform poorly she may choose another to take her place, but I believe her message to you is coherent. You are important to the Pact in her eyes. Secondly, my presence at your tournament is to assess my abilities during an event that is not a dire political situation. An obstacle course, so to speak, where the consequences are real, but a disaster that would unhinge the River Kingdoms is unlikely. I will be judged while judging." True to her role, the paladin observes the situation with honesty, neutrality, and seriousness, maintaining unflinching eye contact and delivering her observations as confidently as her knowledge allows.