[Hlaeth] Ch 23 - The Words of Steel

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            Hope without Truth meant eventually striving for what was actually impossible and/or immoral, and Valor without Truth meant defying everything, including that which should not be defied, stubborn obstinacy that benefited no one and nothing. Together they meant chasing after an impossible dream with unshakable resolve, ignoring all evidence to the contrary.

            Noble foolishness, perhaps, and Good could still come of it, but it was definitely Chaotic Good at its finest, an individual striving that could and would consume one’s entire life on an endless noble quest with no true goal.

            Truth without Hope and Valor was merely information with a crippling awareness of one’s own current limitations, by itself a knife that could and would cut and cripple yourself before its absolute edge.

            Together, the three Words were a tempered sword, a blazing fire, and a hardened shield, an absolute foundation upon which to base your life. Individually, the might well drag down those who knew them. Together, they formed an alloy around which you could base your life.

            They were The Words of Steel, Words chosen for their ability to affect combat and those who fought for Good. I was not a god and timeless, nor a Celestial whose spirit beat in time with the essence of the Heavens and Goodness. I accepted that I had limitations, and the Words were my own way of keeping me on course, motivated, and able to hold to the path, despite all the naysayers and distractions that abounded there.

            If it were a kinder, gentler world, I could have chosen other Words, with insights and powers to aid more in peacetime and downtime, really be an inspiration to the civilian side of the population to help raise them up to greater and greater heights.

            But, no. The Words of Steel were chosen for their ability to enhance combat prowess, even if they could affect more peaceable attainments. As primary Virtues, they were also harsh on those who used them… and this princess was not in any condition to handle the real things.

            Her questions steered clear of magical music after that, and our tour of the landscapes around the Royal Castle continued on.

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            The messenger arriving was obvious, because he rode in on a sleek and pale blue-white fluffy-furred asperii, a windsteed, a horse-like mount capable of riding the winds with great speed and grace, without requiring silly things like the wings of a pegasus or something.

            His saddle was particularly gorgeous. Being married to a horsewoman who made them, I noticed things like that.

            His apparel and demeanor made it quite apparent he was on formal royal business, the guards immediately letting him through, and both the dragons and the princess paused to await his arrival. Not being totally dense, I stopped with them.

            He made a show of it, turning sideways with his mount and looking us all over carefully before settling on the only obvious human in the group, as if it was difficult to pick me out. “Master Aelryinth of Heaven?” he asked politely, in passable Human. The elven accent to it was slightly on the hilarious side, although not as bad as orcs or goblins.

            I nodded slightly to acknowledge him.

            “I am Royal Herald Ilbromel, here to escort you to the Royal Court. Their Majesties are waiting for you, and your accompanying parties. If you would care to follow me to the Palace, I will introduce you to their Majesties.”

            I made an acknowledging gesture, choosing to say nothing.

            The Princess chose that moment to quietly excuse herself, hurrying off with her entourage, doubtless to get to the Royal Court ahead of us.

            “If Master Aelryinth will excuse us, we shall also head to the Court along the less formal lanes,” Gold Coronus told me.

            “As the elders deem proper,” I replied, aware that they had their own image they had to present. Obviously it was known I had their support, and there was no need for them to come marching in around me like a protective shield.

            That left Commander Tellusian and Captain Fyanyl accompanying me, which was absolutely fine as my default military escorts.

            “Will the two of you be needing to change to courtly attire before this meeting?” I asked them, as we strolled unhurriedly in the wake of the herald. We could have gone MUCH faster, of course, but elves don’t really have much sense of urgency at the best of times.

            “We have kinsmen who will be waiting at hand to get us into more acceptable attire.” I personally thought their default uniforms and armor were ornate enough for any human court, and certainly would be utterly fine back home. But then again, we weren’t a supremely long-lived race whose only hope of social advancement was elders dying in battle or retiring in disgrace centuries before their time, with aesthetic senses that fairly demanded extremely overdone artistic sensibilities be applied to everything in everyday life.

            Lose a little, gain a little, I supposed.

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            Commander Tellusian was happy enough to take over the role of guide, and had more than enough social graces to make the walk back to the Court plenty amusing enough for everyone involved. The scandalous tale he told of some handmaidens and nobles engaged in a festival hunt through the trees even had the Herald struggling hard to maintain his composure.

            I listened politely, shaking my head at the elves’ delight in sybaritic frivolities, but not judging them for it. It wasn’t like they popped out children with anywhere near the ease and frequency that humans did, after all, although I supposed the fertility magic to do so was an elective part of a lot of their ceremonies, fey connections being what they were.

            The approach to the Royal Palace along the formal tree-colonnade was of surpassing beauty, with regular statuary, fountains, and immaculate tilework beneath us. Ribbons and banners representing various beings and noble Houses hung down here and there, historical as well as present indicators of fealty and glory.  

            I imagined NOT having a banner here was a significant social stain throughout much of elven society, and it was probable that Houses with no real political power or strength probably held onto the right to be recognized and have a Banner here with iron grips.

            It appeared the elves valued green carpets over red, for one had been rolled out for me, thick and lush and really not all that different from walking over grass. I noted the gold thread woven into the sides and gleaming between some of the strands, but was not surprised. It made it look like sunlight was clinging to the carpet.

            All of it QL 30+ work, of course, something the finest human artisans would labor over, even back home.

            The Herald dismounted formally, handing off his asperii mount to a waiting guardsman in gleaming mithral armor, itself a display of fantastic wealth. Not silver-plated, actual mithral, and relegated to someone whose duty was standing around on parade duty.

            A Ten, on parade duty. It was a bit surreal to think they could waste skilled individuals so much, but I had also inferred that while they stayed vigilant against outside threats, there hadn’t been much in the way of war for them for hundreds of years.

            Helped immensely when you didn’t have to worry about internal revolts and civil strife, and your main opponents were infiltrators from outside your kingdom hungry for your wealth and magic and probably attractive slaves, or something.

            While there was silver, it was always alloyed truesilver, so it wouldn’t tarnish. I imagined even having Cantrips available to clean everything would be tedious with so much of it, so spend a little more time and money, and not worry about it.

            The display of wealth and art would probably have humbled most humans who visited the place, as precious stonework and gems adorned much of the artwork, sculptures, and accented the architecture around me. Given I was a Shaper of stone, I could admire things wrought by both magic and chisel and polish, so I studied and admired it all, in no hurry as I observed it all.

            The Herald was also in no hurry, and my two other elven escorts had been intercepted by courtiers of their own people and zipped off to hurriedly change.

            I was also aware that the entry hall was elective in length, and could probably vary anywhere from the exterior hundred meters to at least the quarter-mile it extended now. Given the amount of artwork on display, and how Feature was craning around and looking at it for me while I studied the Assays of it and appreciated the craftsmanship, the longer walk was appropriate.

            Of course, the Legus of this place was the real thing I was studying, as it had been the main object of my attention during my walks in the surrounding landscape.

            It was subtle, powerful, illusory, complex, and elusive to examine, which only made it more interesting for someone who used to be a Divination Specialist Wizard, and still qualified as a Master Diviner in all the ways, to examine.

            I could learn a great deal from not being able to discern the Truth, as well as the Truth, and unlike normal folks, sifting the Truth from the false in their glamour was actually quite easy for the user of a certain Word of Creation.

            Heck, Divination magic was why I’d selected Truth as one of my three in the first place. You might be able to lie to me and hide the Truth, but I’d still know it was a lie. Once you eliminated everything that was a lie in all its many forms, the Truth tended to be pretty damn apparent.

            So it was here. The glamours were suffused through everything, but any good Illusionist knew you had to mix a little bit of reality in with your illusions for everything to work the best, and thus foil them nasty Diviners and snooping wizards wanting to suss out your magic for themselves.

            Basically, it was intellectual one-upsmanship trading back and forth among adept spellcasters. I didn’t mind being one of them…

            “One moment.” The Herald paused politely at my words as I stepped off to the side, where the statue of yet another elven figure rested atop a darkly square pedestal.

            I wasn’t looking at the statute. I was looking at the dark mottled rock of the pedestal.

            It was at QL 40, carved from a mixture of tungsten ore and blued jade that looked fantastic. I knelt to examine it more closely, touching it with my fingers and letting my ability to Shape ripple through it.

            “This is not elven work,” I noted, the lack of any magical effects on the crystals composing the pedestal evident. “Nor is the statue,” I added, giving the Herald pause, as he’d thought that was what I was looking at. “The stonecutting here is sublime. Dwarven work, I would assume?” Feature craned his head down at the writing upon it, making it apparent he was reading it for me. “Erenthaul the Peace-Maker. Worthy of Trust,” I read through his eyes from the original Dethek. “Finer craftsmanship than anything else in this hall so far. A great gift to your people, Herald.”

            He pursed his lips in some consternation. “As you say, Master Aelryinth,” he managed politely, clearly not of the same opinion.

            I rose to my feet. “The pedestal Assays at 40. The statue Assays at 38. Both are pure craftsmanship, while most of the other statues rely on glamour to enhance themselves at base 30 to 35. With the slightest magical enhancement, these would both dominate the entire hallway, but it is above the dwarves to use such ephemeral things to enhance the truth of stone.” Feature tilted his little head back up to survey the statue there closely. “A great honor to render someone of another race in stone. The Rockborn consider most races ephemeral and too prone to change, erratic and unreliable, to set them in stone sculpture. Bas-relief, possibly. A bust, if generous.

            “This, this is an honor and a request, else they would have kept such a thing at home, for them to admire through the centuries. ‘If you send another, make them a soul like this’, they are telling you.” I paused a moment, finding amusement. “I imagine this Erenthaul was not as popular here as among the Rockborn, and it is the craftsmanship more than anything that earned a spot in the entry hall?”

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