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XAN
After his strange and confusing welcome to the Rose Palace, Xan walks through the fine corridors of this ridiculously wealthy place. Every surface seems to be made of marble or gilded marble. There are windows glazed with coloured glass that cause rainbow patterns to dance on the glossy floors, there are great statues, fine tapestries, elegant gardens, servants by the dozen and people everywhere as richly clad as the fine halls.
It sickens Xan to see it. This foul place. The glittering heart of the Jewel of the Empire, showing off the wealth they have stolen from all the places they have conquered and plundered with their blood-thirsty army, while they only allow the Plumians a small fraction of their own island. And even that tiny crumb is only held because of endless, vicious fighting. For almost two hundred years, the Plumians have fought the invading Azurians, battling so bravely and for so long that the Empire gave up trying to take the rocky mountains on the isle’s western edge and eventually just built a wall around them, leaving the Plumians to make their home on the most inhospitable territory of Pluma, while the Azurian soldiers occupied the fertile and mineral-rich east.
The wall holds for the most part, although it is often breached. More often by the Azurian conquerors under Lord Harwin Underlia, raiding and reaving, than by the Plumians. But all that will come to an end.
As they process through the halls, Xan follows his guide, the strange man who is acting as his translator. I am called the Hare. Xan has never seen such a man. Even in this strange palace he stands out. He wears dull grey robes that hide his body, dropping to his sandalled feet. But that attire is no different to the other religious penitents he has seen flitting about the palace. Far stranger is the covering he wears over his face. All that is visible of him above his neck is a fall of straight silvery hair, fine as gossamer.
Xan notices that even passers by in the palace glance at him. No doubt they are just as intrigued as Xan. Why would a man cover his face? Xan knows many who worship Gods on Pluma, although he has never had the taste for devotion himself, but he has never seen anyone veil their face in tribute to a God.
Xan knows much of Azuria and he knows that some of the female acolytes, styled as Brides of Zai, cover their faces. But he has never heard of men doing so. The Azurians worship Zai, a strict and ferocious God who they claim gives them their military strength, through the strange codes laid out in the Book of the Rules. But surely they must believe their God created and controls all. So Zai must have made all.
If this man believes his face was created by Zai, why would he believe Zai wants it hidden?
“This is the Tower of the Heir,” the man says, pointing to a set of tall, dark doors decorated in gold. “It is the home of the heir of the Emperor. So Atticul lived there, before that it was home to his father Prince Rafus. The current occupant is Atticul’s nephew, Prince Umbert.”
Xan nods at this. The Hare’s Plumian is a little clumsy in places. He over pronounces sometimes and his word choice is limited, but it is still impressive, for a language he has never had a reason to use before. Not that Xan intends to tell this strange creature that. He does not like hearing Plumian words in the mouth of one so embedded in the corrupt and cruel empire. But as his Artemian is weak, he has little choice but to bear it.
“Where does Atticul live now?” Xan says plainly.
“The Grand Tower, at the northern end of the citadel.”
“And you?”
“Me?” The man seems confused by the question.
“Where do you sleep?”
“I have a chamber in the acolytes quarters, in the Sarelik Temple,” the nervous creature says, before turning and walking on, making it clear he will say no more on this subject.
The man points out other things. They pass through a grand hall full of statues, and the man names them, a series of blood soaked despots all.
Beyond that they reach a small square, covered in neatly raked white pebbles. A structure in the centre, a circular building, is decorated with white and yellow flowers, so many they almost cover it. Each flower has a piece of black silk tied around it. Death rites, clearly.
“This is where your Emperor died?” Xan says.
The man nods, his veil fluttering as he does.
Xan smiles to himself. He knows of this death. His dear sister has already begun the Plumian assault on the filthy empire. But it does mean a complication. He will have to free her before he can ignite his own plans to harm Azuria. No matter, he has been promised a negotiation. He will make good use of it.
Trysta will not be executed. She will be a great hero. When Pluma is freed, united once more as a whole land they will celebrate her. She will be carried through the streets.
“Where are the barracks that house your Imperial Army?” Xan says.
The man turns. “Not here.”
“In Attar?”
“No. There are many. All around the empire. The main seat of the army is Fort Serus, in the north. There are also many soldiers in Lunatum, in a great garrison there to hold the east. There is also another in Serral, west of here.”
“But here in Attar? There must be a force to protect the city.”
The man pauses for a moment before saying. “There are barracks in Hevel Forest. but the city has its own guard and the Rose Palace too. And individuals of note will have bodymen.” The man looks at him. Or, Xan assumes he is looking behind the veil. His expression is a mystery.
When Trysta visited Pluma before she left for Lunatum with her strange companions, she told Xan much of her time as a warrior, forced to fight for the Azurian army. She had said she thought there were over a thousand Plumians enslaved so. Captured fighting for freedom and offered a lifetime as a soldier as an alternative to death. He would like to let his Plumian brothers and sisters know that salvation is coming.
