Dark Armor: The Greeting

The throne of Teregor was the heart of the Obsidian Citadel, of a piece with the rest of glassy structure. It was layered in enchantments that connected it to the whole of the keep, and from there out into the surrounding city and the lands beyond. It was said that the Wizard-King of Teregor could sit upon his throne and know all that transpired in his kingdom, alter the weather, send commands to his troops, and turn the land itself against his enemies. 

Pallian suspected that such things were said mostly because they were true, and because they were the sorts of things that people ought to know if they wished to avoid being struck down and turned into more of the animated skeletons that kept the depths of the Crypt clean and free of vermin. 

From where Pallian was standing, the throne was thirty feet away and fifteen feet above him, overlooking the shadowed hall where he waited with his father and his brother. The Wizard-King had diplomatically elected to meet the royalty of Edrias in the hall itself, but the throne still loomed on its raised platform behind him. Ravaj stood at their father's right hand, wearing an elegantly-cut black jacket over a ruffled white shirt, a ruby medallion and a set of matching rings to add a touch of color. Pallian himself had been placed to their father's left, and slightly back: arguably subordinate, but also the sort of placement a bodyguard might occupy.

A scribe sat at a discrete desk off to one side, all but invisible in his dark gray robe; a handful of half-familiar ministers had spread out quietly around the edges of the room, knowing better than to speak without their king's permission. The other nobles, however, had been sent away, perhaps as a precaution against ill-considered words. The House of Edrias was, after all, a long-standing rival to the House of Teregor.

The Royal Steward -- for a moment, Pallian couldn't recall the woman's name; then he found it: Vathira -- stepped into the throne room and then placed herself beside the wall just inside the great doorway. "The House of Edrias," she announced, and her voice filled the whole of the hall, almost strong enough to drive out the shadows. "High Magister Tamirya Edrias, and her body-servant." 

The woman who entered the room was tall and willowy, graceful even in a heavy robe, and had her hair swept up into a knot that was held in place with a pair of silver pins. She was followed by a massive, heavyset figure of leonine cast: clawed fingers, warm-gold fur, hair and beard that resembled a lion's mane. Even his face held something of that shape, the jaws protruding into more of a snout than any of the the uninitiated ever would, his nose reworked into a feline configuration. Pallian squinted, but yes: those were whiskers, as well. 

"Second-princess  Arwidden Edrias," announced Vathira, and another woman entered the throne room. She was shorter than her mother, with broader shoulders, and her dark brown hair was cut short against her skull. She wore the clothes of a woman soldier -- a split skirt and heavy blouse with a vest -- but in expensive silk decorated with elegant embroidery, and she wore a shortsword on her left hip. Her eyes flickered across the royalty of Teregor, and settled briefly on Pallian; she might have given a faint nod.

Vathira's voice filled the room again. "Third-princess Ashmiren Edrias." 

This woman wore an understated, courtly dress, and both her hair and her makeup had been carefully assembled. She moved gracefully, falling into place beside her mother and opposite her sister; then she stopped behind them and off to the side, opposite Pallian himself. 

The High Magister of Edrias shifted her head, and Pallian could see a few lines of silver tracing through otherwise-black hair. "Wizard-King of Teregor," she said, her entire attention focused on Pallian's father. "We have come at your invitation." Then she smiled, sharp as a knife. "It must have really hurt to send that."