Southern Lights

The Prince held the red gemstone in his palm. His crimson eyes lingered on it for a moment, just as his mind lingered on old memories. Long had he lived, in this world and the last, as he remembered each moment of his existence with near perfectly clarity. He thought of a young woman, reclined in a wooden chair, a smile on her face, and laughter in the air. He thought of a young man, not ready to take on his fathers legacy. And the thought on himself, who he was, and is. He had lived to serve three, in his time, and to those three, one after another, he was loyal. Loyal to their cause, to their power, to their presence. Always the servant. Never the master. Still, despite this, Delsin felt no malice at his station. He had duties to fulfill, and few others could accomplish the things he could. He was sought after by his three masters for a reason, after all.

A thin, nearly transparent silver line snapped. Instantaneously, Delsin felt the presence of another. Another visitor. He could not be bothered to go and greet them; it was likely another explorer, come to raid his home of its vast array of treasures. No matter. It would sort itself out. He had much to do, he thought to himself. He combed his fingers through his long, black hair for a moment, looking down onto a series of ancient, half destroyed parchments. Few mortals held the same level of intelligence as The Prince, that much he knew, be even still; his current task was no easy one. Perhaps an altered sigil here, an increased sacrifice of materials, or a slightly different gesture... His mind became fixated once more. So fixated, that he almost didn't hear the footsteps. His visitor had made it down, after all.

He sighed, snapping his fingers, as the cluttered mass of books, parchment, and stone tablets scuttled to life, neatly arranging itself in an orderly fashion. He awaited the knock at his door, but soon grew impatient, leaving the chamber himself. The gentle sound of music filled the hall of his great library, a strange and drastic contrast to the serene silence that typically filled it. Delsin methodically walked towards the source of the tune, his head held high, and, though he might not have realized it, his curiosity thoroughly peaked. Resting in a simple wooden chair laid back against the side of a shelf, the visitor paid no attention to the Son of Ichor as he made his presence known, instead focusing on his music. Delsin, too, did not interject, waiting for the visitor, a half-elven man, to finish his song. Delsin knew this man, and knew him well. In many ways, their lots in life were similar, though their temperaments certainly were not.

"Nox Vek'Or, Lux."

Delsin nodded in greeting.

"The Lemothan tongue will suffice, Veren'Del."

"Still calling me that, are you? I suppose it'd be rude to request otherwise. I assume you've been informed of whats just happened?"

Delsin quickly affirmed his suspicions.

"Yes, just a few short hours ago. They're on their way here. I'll likely be recalled to the palace soon enough."

'Veren'Del' pushed his spectacles into place, crossing one leg over the other.

"Coming here? I suppose they're rather desperate, aren't they? Shall I take your place while you receive your briefing?"

Delsin crossed his arms for a moment, looking up in contemplation.

"Yes. Yes, that would do me quite well. They'll need to be swift in their movements, direct them to the carpet on the top floor, should they ask for my aid."

The musician mimicked The Prince, crossing his arms, and nodding.

"Just like old times, yes? Do you think they'll be able to handle it?"

Delsin reached for a tome off a nearby shelf, tracing over its words with his eyes, reading quickly as he spoke.

"I cannot say. The Emperor has high hopes for them, but I cannot help feel that he is hiding something from both myself, and The Empress."

Veren'Del raised an eyebrow.

"Why, Prince, do I detect an ounce of frustration in your voice? That's certainly new. Come now, surely you know not to question his judgement?"

Delsin snapped his book shut, gently placing it back into place. He took a deep breath, pinching his nose.

"My confidence in him does not waver, Veren'Del. I simply... I simply wish he were not so cryptic. The Empress is even more guilty of this, and while I know Praeteris is aware of my loyalty, at times I feel his wife still does not trust me, despite all of my work."

Delsins visitor stood, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Oh, please. We both know it was her idea to name you heir. Of course she trusts you. And even if she didn't, would it make you any less loyal?"

Delsin cracked a small smile.

"Do I really need to answer that?"

Veren'Del shook his head, before raising a pointer finger, a spark of memory lighting his eyes.

"I nearly forgot! I've located 04.G."

Delsin raised an eyebrow as he retreated to a nearby table, having a seat at it.

"Did you?! Well done, 04.G has eluded even my watchful eyes for some time now. What of the other three?"

"I confirmed the destruction of 02.K. 01.H and 03.R are still missing, but I might have a lead on 'R'. Ah, and I've also learned that some folk out east have stumbled across the Foundry."

Delsin placed his elbow on the table, resting his head in his palm. Removing the silver laurel wreath from his head, he looked into the gleaming metal, though no reflection shined through.

"That is good. Right on schedule, as well. Are they active?"

Standing up and strapping a satchel to his side, Veren'Del hesitated before responding.

"...No. At least, I don't think. I'll look into it soon."

Delsin eyed the man for a moment, watching him gather a few more of his items.

"Leaving so soon? I thought you were going to stay and await our 'friends'."

Veren'Del raised a hand, his long overcoat flying onto him from across the room. He uttered a lone word of power, his eyes glowing alight with power.

"I'll be back in time to greet them, don't worry. Try to disable the traps this time, wouldn't want to fry them before they can even begin their journey, now would you?"

Delsin stroked his beard.

"No, I suppose not. Go on, then. I'll inform you of any new developments whenever they arise."

As the light in his eyes continued to grow, Delsins visitor tilted his head to the side.

"By the way, I heard The Princess stands with them. Heard anything about that?"

Delsin scoffed, growing somewhat tired of the conversation.

"Indeed she does. It is of no matter. Now begone, magician."

"Magician? You're calling me a Magician? Why, of all the people, I would expect YOU to at lea-"

Veren'Del's eyes finally flashed in a bright array of colors, the spell completing itself, just in time to cut off the remainder of his sentence. Delsin breathed deeply once more, glad to have a moment of respite. Though he had grown to appreciate his visitors mannerisms, he couldn't say that he had grown to like them. Delsin formed his fingers into a fist, clenching hard on a small hunk of gold. He released it, and in its place was a small, gleaming urn, filled with shining purple liquid. Delsin poked a finger into it, slowly raising a pillar of violet smoke from the water. He gazed into the haze, and saw visions of a distant coastline. He viewed the small band of warriors, still licking their wounds, their group smaller than it had been just a day prior. Alas, the Prince knew he was not the only one who was watching them. He knew that these brave men would be the ones to decide the fate of the continent, for better or for worse. For the first time in many decades, he lamented his position. It had been many, many years since he was allowed to fight.

He held his hand aloft, a crackle of lightning appearing across his fingers, which apparated into a strangely shaped blade. Delsin shook his head, knowing it was unfair of him to yearn as he did. Besides, he had done his share of heroism a dozen times over. Even so, The Prince of the Vel'Karis wondered: If he was not to help them, who would?