[!] The following is a creative lore post by yours truly. Please do not metagame the information contained within, and I do hope you find it at least somewhat enjoyable [!]
Of Fools and Dead Things
It started outside. For some hours, Varyian had sat alone on the lowest perched balcony of the Luminion Palace accompanied only by a full bottle of wine, and his book. The bottle itself had come from Arquia's shop - one that had opened only a few months ago in the lower city which he often had the chefs and servants frequent so as to keep his stores stocked. Whenever he read such a book, he always thought to accompany it with the right flavors of a dry red wine, and more naturally, the most expensive one he could acquire. He had not found time for himself to read over the book - not with all that which was going on in the world: The situation with Cape Roth, the captured 'Cill, Astraeus, worry for his children, matters of State, and so on. Yet today he had just been able to clear his schedule long enough for him to relax. Normally, of course, would he have preferred to go before the large hearth in the living room, still too would he have been accompanied with a bottle (though perhaps less expensive for such occassions) and stare into the flame before him. He wasn't quite sure what he enjoyed about the spectacle - perhaps it was the flames dancing before him, the wonder of how such a thing as fire exists and the intrigue behind how it reacts to the air around it, it could serve as a reminder to his house; his position and symbol - the dragon, maybe none of them, or at all at once. Of Fools and Dead Things
And yet, today was time for him to read his book. He had to, if not for his own interest than the necessity to advance and grow from it. The pages were full of possibility.. he needed only.. understand them? The symbols- some of which he could identify, in other areas meant little to him. Practice makes perfect, however, as he had began to keep a secondary journal alongside of him whenever he read his book, detailing his thoughts on the meanings behind passages of script, recreating symbols and glyphs he saw, or using what he found within as inspiration for a later date. He turned the next page, only then to hear a knock at the door.
"Come in." He said, then closing the book and putting it off to his side, his eyes narrowing as he had specifically requested not to be interrupted. One of the palace servants entered, with nothing in hand besides a small, folded piece of paper. Entering inside and offering a bow, they approached and extended their hands, moving the paper closer to him without saying anything. His own gaze remained on them a few moments longer before turning down, taking the letter and dismissing them, waiting until the door had closed for him to flip it over. The Imperial Seal. Stamped in wax, a reply had finally come to him from the Empire. Though it wasn't audible, he wanted to sigh - not wanting to be bothered by a meeting in Hadriana. His plans of turning inward had thus far been paused, and now having to address this, put a halt to his wishes. Still, he opened the letter, breaking the seal and unfolding the paper to see when he would be travelling to Adelsburg to deal with this... He smiled. He smiled too fast. His eyes did not begin at the start of the page but instead immediately flicked to half-way down to a name he hadn't heard uttered by the Empire for sometime. "Wilhelm."
The same servant who had delivered the letter, was now tasked with cleaning up a spillage of wine that occured on the balcony. In his surprise, the bottle had broken. A shame, really - it was expensive wine. Another servant was already fast at work to find the Pricecili, and thankfully such did not take long. There was a knock on her door, delivering the same letter Varyian had received. There was something different here, however. As Klepsydra received the already opened letter - having been passed to the servant from Varyian and now being given to his daughter, she froze. Time stood still in that room - thankfully, the servant had long since bowed and left after giving the letter, not there to see the shock and horror at the letter's contents that Klepsydra would show. Was it really happening? Why her, of all people? Hadn't she suffered enough? Perhaps it was a test - a ruse by her father to make her stronger, to see her reaction, but in the end all would be revealed as just that - a joke, a lesson, a mistake. There was a long silence. She had read it five times by now. Maybe it was a clue, a hidden messaging from Astraeus himself? Or maybe, it was exactly as it was written - a ticket to front row seats at the last act of the spectacle.
"This is a difficult step Aesti, I understand. But when we achieve our vision, when we fulfill our Dream, I promise you, there will be no more steps." He had last said to her when they encountered this problem. It was the inevitable end of course, the figure had told them as much. Was there any other way it was going to play out? She couldn't do what was asked of her then, but be it for closure or out of disblief, the Galle'celleni left the capital and started towards Adelsburg on horseback. The la'Cilmeri? He was elsewhere, hidden away in the palace. He couldn't quite believe the news himself. It was soon to be over... no more planning or schemes against him, just another problem going to rest.
The room was cold, filled with all manner of things he had collected. Collector. He thought to himself, recalling the name given to him by the figure. He had never intended of course to be a hoarder of things, but in fact it was true - he had collected all manner of things to store in this room. Some more... directly useful than others, and some just oddities or ends he thought to keep separate from the rest of his things. Memories of his Filo came to him, who had looked upon the space in awe... where Varyian only saw trifles and wasted space. His Filo desired a room like this, somewhere he could be open to explore and create, yet while Varyian enjoyed that luxury himself, he rarely did much with its amenities. Many important meetings had been held in this room, some with his Filos, and others alone, practicing what he knew or learning what more he could that the space (and his own limits) would offer to teach him. A few hours had passed since Klepsydra had left the palace - it was almost time. An image came to him in his mind of a particular object in his collection. He stood up from the table, moving to reach into a high container as he removed a skull. His skull, the rest incinerated.
Staring into the bone's empty sockets, he couldn't help but smile again. Soon turning and moving back to his seat, he held it aloft in front of him, turning his head, curiously. "Alas, poor Wilhelm! I knew him, Astraeus: a fellow of infinite pride, of most terrible manners: he had presented a thorn on my side a thousand times; and now, how delightful in my imagination it is! My disappointment rims at it." His free hand rose, pointing to where the open mouth of the skull sat. "Here hung those lips that have taken my Aesti away from me. Where are your jests now? Your off handed remarks? Your waste? Your flashes of impropriety, that were enough to send her fleeing and crying?" His hand came up to rest upon the side of the skulls face, his smile fading into a deep scowl. "Not one now, to mock your own failures? Quite absent fathered? Now get you to the next life, and tell them, let them chant a long song, to this tale Of Fools and Dead Things."
His thoughts lingered on a few moments longer... Astraeus - no, Wilhelm, had closed his life by going to Anjyarr. For what purpose he couldn't imagine, yet in doing so opened Klepsydra to a new one. She was finally free to continue her lessons without distraction, without banter, without lies. In all this, he knew she had come to understand he was right. From the very beginning this tale had spun itself out, and despite his attempts of fake letters, guard reassignments, contact with Lunarmancers, and more, it was the fool himself that did it. Hoisted towards the gallows by a rope he had tied. Varyian was now open to continue as they had left off, as though there was only a momentary pause, the quiet moment taken in reflection before turning to the next page of the story - instead now, this page had been ripped out, and soon enough, forgotten.
He rose from his chair, moving to place the skull back where it had been, then feeling a disconnect. The container's connection had been severed, but not by him. It was done. Reaching into his pocket, he placed it next to the skull, seeing no use for it other than as a relic of the near distant past. The door opened to the room as he stepped out and locked it behind him. There would be other things to come from this, but the Dream was one step closer to completion, and a pawn had been removed from the board. It was only now that he looked to his hand, feeling the blood dripping down it.. he was bleeding. Not profusely, as it was only a small cut, caused by the broken glass of the bottle formerly shattered on the balcony, whose feeling of pain was masked behind his excitement and more than that, pride. He bothered not with it, simply lifting the bloodied hand to help in readjusting his all black attire, muttering only to himself "Chest up." as he continued on with the day's tasks in wait for the Pricecili, his Aesti, to return. His words to her rang out in his mind: "And if a dog refuses to break... then we, must put them down." It seemed that it was time for another lesson.
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