fariare
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mAny Suns AGO oN A LandMaSS Far AcrOSS tHE sEA...
Fariare’s mother, the Great Empress of Terran Imperia sat proudly on her throne beside his regal father, the Emperor of Terran Imperia. Raised above the rest of the council room of the Tree of Asis and Adon. It thrummed with low voices and anxious energy at the emergency coalescing.
A council member from Laonisium, far north of Cielen arose from their seat, donned in seaside wrappings of tan and olive, addressing the imperials.
“Great many,” They began, turning slowly to speak the room, the low hum dying. “We have received a number of messages from Sol Victus. There appears to be a great threat.”
“Of what sort?” Fariare’s father questioned, leaning on his bulky arms, inky tattoos glistening under the krystallin. Next to Fariare, his twin Talides watched with half-lidded eyes, though her gaze was sharp. Fariare fiddled with his hands, wishing Markis was not at ikan training for the day.
The Laonisian cleared their throat, turning to face the Emperor, “A sickness has swept over the land. It, according to the deon messages we received, has hit Diamus in the last week.”
The council member walked forward, a deon stone in their hand. They stretched upwards, handing to the open palms of his mother and father. His mother, regal and calm as ever, took the stone. His father laid as hand atop it. Light shimmered around the luminous stone as they imperials closed their eyes, listening to the message it held.
Moments of silence passed.
Fariare chewed at his nails, already stubs. Talides glared at him, scoffing and rolling her eyes.
Why is she like that? Is she not afraid?
Both of his parents opened their eyes, faces fallen. Grim.
“How many messages like this have we received? Have there been others coming from places other than Diamus?” His mother asked, speaking, though looking heavily in thought. Calculating the proper actions.
What’s happening in Sol Victus?
One of the representatives of the Mar stood up, clad in a woolen, white and sea blue suit. A puckered scar ran from his temple down to his jaw, “The Mar received messages from the far north of Sol Victus starting about two months ago, speaking of a deadly illness sweeping quickly over the land.”
“And these messages were ignored?” His mother’s voice was tense, shoulders back and hands clenched.
The Mar representative tensed, “Not entirely. The head authorities of the Mar said to not heed them as our fleet was spread thin at the time. They were reporting an incredibly high mortality rate as well. We couldn’t risk infecting the fleet and spreading the illness elsewhere-”
“What exactly is going on?” An angry voice echoed from one of the representatives from the mountains of Terran Minia. A resounding shout occurred from the council, confusion thick in the room. Fariare too was confused. He stole a glance at Talides. Her brows were furrowed as she stared up their parents, eyes wider than normal.
His mother raised a hand, palm facing outward to the council room. The shouts quickly died, the room settling.
“According to the message from that deon stone, a plague has been spreading across Sol Victus for the last two months. It began to affect Diamus very recently, about a week ago. According to the sender, who is one of the Lux Deorum’s council members, the Palacio Deimos was not quarantined fast enough and much of the devout have fallen ill.”
A low hum echoed in the room.
“The High Priestess of Sol Victus, Viaris Regena has fallen ill. She was one of the first struck in the Palacio Deimos,” His mother spoke, a bit saddened.
The name of the high priestess sounded familiar. She was a common correspondent of the Imperian Seats from Sol Victus. Fariare could recall his mother’s lilting, genuine, light laugh echoing from her chambers as the two spoke directly over deon stones.
She’s a friend.
“The ikans of the Palacio Deimos and Diamus are doing all they can, but the widespread effects of the plague are affecting the entire landmass. With so many ill, agriculture has been slowed down to a near standstill. Crops are rotting in the fields, mills are not running, and foragers are starving,” Fariare’s father spoke, putting a hand on his mother’s shoulder, squeezing. “We must send them our support.”
“And risk spreading it?” One council member said incredulously.
“No,” Fariare’s mother shook her head. “We will send ships, a whole fleet if we must, with supplies. Grain, fruits, herbs, medicine, whatever they need. We will have healthy Victusians unload the cargo. Minimal, if any contact with Victusians from Imperians. The crew of ships will stay quarantined in their ships for a week in the harbors and ports. Those who begin to show symptoms will enter Diamus. Those who don’t will come back to us after the quarantine.”
There was nearly a round of angry shouts, but they died as quickly as they started as both the Empress and Emperor raised their open-palmed hands.
“There will be no discussion of this. We will take the utmost care in not allowing this plague to spread. Disinfectant will be made by the barrelful by the store devout. Masks to protect the nose and mouth will be worn by the crew during the handoff,” Fariare’s mother spoke with no hesitation as she addressed the council. She turned to the councilmember in charge of Terran Imperia’s own royal fleet, “Start preparing your crew and ships, you leave tomorrow at first light. Take your fastest ships.”
The Emperor turned, speaking to the high priestess of Cielen’s temple, “Make your devout aware of what is happening and beginning prepping supplies.”
Fariare’s mother addressed another council member, “Prepare stocks of grain and whatever produce that will make the journey.”
The council room fell into a flurry of activity, shouts, and calls to action, members grouping up to organize the fleet of supplies.
“Tch, they’re really willing to risk all of that?” Talides shook her head, corner of her mouth drawn low in a frown. She abruptly stood up, her chair jolting back as she stalked out of the council room. His sister cursed under her breath, undoubtedly criticizing the actions of the court she was still too young to have influence.
Fariare gulped, picking as his hands again, anxiety fluttering in his chest.
LikE ALwaYS.
-----
“That plague?” Markis asked incredulously, sitting up a bit straighter.
Albany’s nodded, head tilting upwards but her gaze still downwards, “That one.”
“I was training to be an ikan as it was happening,” Markis’s brow furrowed. “A bunch of my teachers left with the fleet the Empress and Emperor sent with supplies.”
“Wait,” Fariare’s hazy mind was putting together two subtle pieces. “High priestess, right? Got the plague, but didn’t die like most people?”
Albany looked to him, nodding.
“Is your high priestess Viaris Regena?” Fariare asked, taking a long hit of the joint Markis passed him absentmindedly.
Fariare remembered, within the haze of his princely childhood, his mother speaking to Viaris from deon stones as she transitioned from the Palacio Deimos to a new temple, one that he now realized was the Jezoan temple.
Albany was silent for a moment. She took a large gulp of tea, at least half of the cup, “She is. She is my mentor as well.”
Markis made a small noise of surprise, sipping his own tea, “That’s amazing! You are so lucky to be able to study under someone like Viaris, all her prestige and experience must be amazing to hear about.”
Look at Markis go, he’s really getting it out of her.
Albany swirled the last of the contents of her cup, regarding it far more critically than necessary, “Viaris is wise, though she doesn’t talk about her time in Diamus very often.”
“Oh?” Fariare found himself speaking, sitting up a bit more as he did. “I find that hard to believe. Didn’t she spend most of her life in Diamus under the last Lux Deorum?”
“That’s why she doesn’t, Solasis Fariare,” Albany sighed. She spoke more quietly to a moment, mostly to herself. “I didn’t think so many people would know of her-”
“She was the high priestess here for many years, right?” Markis asked, moving to ready another cup of tea for the fractious priestess. “Did she not enjoy it here?”
“Not at all, she loved it here.” Albany shook her head. “When she does mention it, it’s always in good word. It’s... um... complicated?”
Albany made an odd expression, brows furrowed, lips in a tight line once more. Fariare could almost see her thinking. He could feel his own mind trying to think a step ahead of hers, feeling her anxieties but less intense.
“I’m not sure how widely known some of what happened is,” Albany began, running her thumb over the lip of her mug, speaking slowly. “I mean, Viaris never talks about this. Well, once or twice, but never in detail. I heard it from some of the older devout at my temple.”
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
She’s trying not to reveal too much.
“What do you both know of Viaris?” Albany asked skillfully, aligning herself as to not say too much or too little.
Clever girl.
Markis spoke while freshening up Albany’s cup of tea, “I really only know that she the high priestess in the Palacio Deimos. Not much more than that, truthfully.”
Fariare nodded, “My mother told me she left the Palacio shortly after the plague dissipated and the new Lux Deorum was found.”
Albany tugged at her hands, shoulders risen and tensed, almost hunched, “Viaris left the Palacio Deimos under some... pressure. From the late Lux Deorum’s council. It just so happened that the high priestess of the Jezoan temple was in desperate need of retirement. So, Viaris took up her position,”
Fariare paused mid-drag of his joint. The story was beginning to come together in his psyche.
Ah.
Interesting.
That’s why she’s being so careful.
Fariare glanced at Markis, watching his eyes and expressions carefully. His ikan had a knowing look on his face in more ways than one.
He’s putting it together as well.
“So Viaris, following the plague, left the Palacio Deimos due to her weakened state and some internal pressure? Even with a new Lux Deorum in need of guidance and training?” Markis assumed.
He’s pushing her hard.
Too hard?
Though Fariare trusted his ikan with every damn inch of his life, but even in his intoxicated state knew that Markis was pushing Albany incredibly hard.
Is he doing this for information? Or because she actually needs the catharsis of speaking?
Albany’s expression, meanwhile, had fallen. She was wearing a perplexed frown. Her hands anxiously wore at the cup in her hands. Cogs and thoughts visibly turned in her head as she chewed at her plush looking lips.
Markis moved sat on the edge of Albany’s seat, putting a tender hand to her back, “Solasis Albany, you can speak freely around us, but please speak and act in whatever way makes you most comfortable. In the short time we’ve known each other, I’ve observed that you have some perhaps... unvoiced feelings around her? Fariare and I only confide in each other, trust us in that and that whatever you say is between the three of us.”
Albany remained silent, eyes meeting Fariare’s, searching. Not for a lie, but comfort.
“Thank you for that, Markis” Albany ran a hand over her face with a sigh, shaking her mane of copper. “I’m sure you could find out the whole story by asking anyone in the Palacio Deimos who’s been here for more than five suns. It’s just not necessarily a common topic of conversation. But, Gods, you’re one of the heirs to the throne of Terran Imperia, you could just ask the Lux Deorum herself if you wish.”
“You’re right,” Markis said, gaze flickering to Fariare’s for all but a moment. “But, I’m asking you because it seems like you need to talk. It feels good to talk about things that cause you tension. As for Fariare and I...”
Fariare let out a noise of agreement and a nod as he hit the end of his joint, “Darling little priestess, I hear diplomatic slurry constantly back in Cielen. True honesty is a hard thing to come by in a palace. And, I’m sure the Palacio Deimos is no different. The perspective of a far off devout is... invaluable. I want to hear your voice and your words.”
There was a wave of seduction in his voice. The sunny little priestess was interesting, a hidden gem stowed away in the mountains. Golden and glittering under all that brown common cloth. Fariare was enticed, both physically and mentally.
Interesting.
Albany was silent for another moment as Markis gave her shoulder a squeeze, speaking softly, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, really. I’ve only been pushing you because the moment I brought up your high priestess to you, your pupils retracted, your breath got far faster, your shoulders tensed-”
Albany suddenly broke, shaking her head, “It stresses me out!”
Her voice suddenly shook, her fists clenched tightly in her lap, “Viaris is just my mentor! The high priestess of my temple in the eastern mountains. Here, to everyone, even just on a brief mention, she’s some sort of celebrity. A name to be known. I’d talk about this stuff with the devout at the Jezoan temple all the time, but here- it feels like there’s more weight? There’s incredibly important people here, like you two, and the last thing I want to do is admonish Viaris’s good name to two incredibly nice, important, social people.”
Albany looked up nervously, meeting Fariare’s gaze.
The embers in her eyes were fully lit, like shining agna krystallin. The deep amber bore into him, a tension, a tug in his chest.
Gods, that felt good.
Albany's eyes move to the ground, shifting with her own tension.
“Viaris was blamed for the death of the last Lux Deorum, Leyana.”
Oh-
...
This could be a bit more... compelling than I originally thought.
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