Chapter Ten:
Drakonsarius looked down at the beautiful sight of Worcester, the capital city of Narciss, and of the administrative subregion known as Worcestershire.
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The pretty views did not calm his nerves after he read the journal entry for the third Ætharch in its entirety:
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Journal Entry – The Puppetmaster:
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The third Ætharch, known as the Puppetmaster, pulls the strings of political leaders to make Empyrea unknowingly dance to the Covenants tune. Beware as Pride is a cold, stormy, barren mountain; and the Earl stands atop it, ready to topple those that dare to climb.
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Whoever the third is, they are in close proximity to the Earl of Narciss, without the Earl’s support, your quest to eliminate this puppeteer will undoubtedly fail. In Narciss, the older people will react with strong dislike at the sight of a Dragoon because of the Coalition War, the younger generation are more likely to be curious rather than wrathful, in spite of the war stories.
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Tread carefully,
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The Ninth
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Drakonsarius disembarked from his airship, landing in a quiet park adorned with a monument. Intrigued, he approached the statue, depicting a group of soldiers shielding a mother and her child. The inscription below COALITION WAR (60-50 YBP) caught his attention the moment he saw it: “Narciss shalt never forget those that bled”
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The Dragoon was not alive through the blood-soaked ten years of the Coalition War, but he knew enough to understand the anger of the older generations.
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A handsome young man in a red and gold uniform was approaching him, his repeating rifle in his hands, and his sabre hanging by his side. The knight decided that he was an officer and wondered if he would point him to someone who could help him.
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Ser Drakonsarius greeted the officer.
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The officer, eyeing the armour, asked sharply, “What brings a knight of the Order to a monument honouring those who died for Narciss fighting against your like?”
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Drakonsarius nodded, “Recently touched down. Couldn’t resist a moment of reflection at this monument. Quite a powerful reminder of history.”
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The officers attitude softened as he realised that no offence was , “History indeed. Sometimes, I forget how much blood was spilt back then. What brings a Dragoon here?”
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“I’m here to inquire on behalf of Dragoon-Mage Drakonvyr. We seek to improve relations between the southwest and Northeast.”
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The young officer looked uneasy now “I am Ego Lieutenant Hornby. Protocol dictates that unannounced foreign emissaries should be directed to the High-Exarch. I must insist that thou me.”
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As Ser Drakonsarius and Ego Lieutenant Hornby left the serene park, they strode purposefully towards the building that Hornby called the Worcestershire Administration Complex. Its grand spires and intricate architecture were an embodiment of the power and order of the northeast region.
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Stepping into the grandeur of the Worcestershire Administration Centre, Ser Drakonsarius found himself surrounded by a bustling hive of activity. Narcissian clerks, donned in regal attire, hurried through the ornate halls adorned with heraldry that chronicled the illustrious history of Narciss.
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The complex was practically a micro subregion of offices sprawled across a labyrinthine expanse, each room a tapestry of Narcissian influence. Pen wielding bureaucrats in elegant attire worked diligently among piles of paperwork and letters.
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As Drakonsarius and Ego Lieutenant Hornby navigated through the vibrant enclave, the hum of activity intensified. The Narcissian administrative machine operated seamlessly, its efficiency evident in the synchronized dance of pen and the soft rustle of parchment. The red tape did not seem to slow it down.
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Finally reaching the heart of the Enclave, the office of the High-Exarch loomed large. Its doors, adorned with Narcissian sigils, swung open to reveal a sanctum steeped in history and authority. The High-Exarch of Worcestershire was aged far older than Drakonvyr, and seemed a mockery to the passage of time. His regal robes of office were draped over a form that bore the weight of both age and experience. Lines etched deeply into his face, reminded onlookers of countless years spent in service to the Earldom.
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Thin, wispy silver hair sat atop the ancient head, framing a face marked by the weathering of decades. Eyes, once sharp and piercing, now held a wisdom that bespoke the vast reservoir of knowledge accumulated over a lifetime. Despite the evident physical toll of age, there was an undeniable steely authority about him. This man was not to be taken lightly.
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He was seated behind a grand desk, the man’s heavily lined hands – with a ring that mirrored his station, delicately pored of documents. The room, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight from the imprisoned candles, served as a suitable backdrop to the venerable High-Exarch.
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Hornby, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, tentatively cleared his throat before interrupting the High-Exarch's meticulous focus on his work.
“Exarch Worce”, Hornby stammered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, “I’ve discovered an unannounced emissary from the Order of the Dragoon.”
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Worce, his reedy voice cutting through the air like a sharpened blade, responded with a mixture of annoyance and anger, “Unannounced? Bring him in at once, Lieutenant. Let’s see what audacious business they have with us this time, not that they are worthy of any attention.”
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“Exarch Worce,” Drakonsarius spoke with a measured tone , “I am Ser Drakonsarius of the Order of the Dragoon. I’ve come on behalf of Dragoon-Mage Drakonvyr, seeking answers from the Earl to certain questions that are of grave concern.”
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"Ser Drakonsarius," Worce stated coldly, "I'm a busy man. If thou hast questions, thou shalt need to book an appointment like everyone else. I don't entertain unannounced visits from Ceruleans, especially not Dragoons.”
The knight is unmoved and tries again, "Exarch, I beg thy pardon, but the issue I bring bears the weight of urgency. Lives may hang in the balance, and swift cooperation with the Earl could be the key to averting disaster.”
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Exarch Worce frowns, the knight is testing his patience, “These pleas fall on deaf ears, Dragoon. I fought against your Order in the Coalition War, a Dragoon nearly claimed my life then, and now thou dare to disturb me? Schedule an appointment, and we shall discuss matters when it suits my schedule, not thy own.”
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Drakonsarius is beginning to tire of the ancient statesman, he chooses to take the risky move of revealing some of the truth to Worce, “The Puppetmaster, an ætharch of the Covenant of the Void, poses a direct threat to the Earl of Narciss. The security of the Earl is in jeopardy, and I need to warn him.”
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Worce seems to consider this, he no longer seems irritated, the knights gamble seems to have paid off, “I am unfamiliar with this Covenant, but if the Earl is at risk, I'll hear thou out. Make thy case quickly, Dragoon, and spare nay details on the danger he faces."
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The Dragoon-Knight chooses his words carefully. If he gives up to little, he will get nowhere.
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The knight tries his luck, “The Puppetmaster has entrenched themselves in a position close to the Earl. Their are involved in releasing three malevolent deities upon our realm. My mission is to eliminate this threat swiftly.”
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Worce deflates, sinking into his chair, he suddenly seems tired as he speaks again. "My apologies, but I cannot send thou directly to the Earl. Those with the most frequent contact include Aeroadmiral Noble, Marshal Prideheart, and the 11 current members of the Conclave of Viziers."
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"Fortunately for thou, a friend of mine, Rectess Anastasia Romanenkov, was recently made a Vizier of the Conclave based on my recommendation. She has considerable diplomatic experience, and I trust she can assist in matters regarding the Conclave. I'll send for her immediately, and she should arrive within the hour."
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The High-Exarch directs Ser Drakonsarius to the “Delegation Chamber,” providing clear instructions on how to reach it.
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