I turn yet another street corner and come to a halt, the trailing winds washing over me. The tops of stalls and people's hats struggle against it, drawing some eyes my way. A frown settles on my face and the Moonrim Emerald light shimmers again. A giggle so carefully woven into it.
"Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia?" I question, not sure why one of the Four Points of the Compass is toying with me like this. Given my reasons for looking for her, I can't help but sense a lethal concoction coming out of this. The war against the heretics is stagnating for all the wrong reasons and here she is, giggling and playing. We're Valkinvar, not children!
"You are on the right trail, Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar. Please, come." the wind's whisper, my superior's soft and gentle voice as undisturbing as the lightest of breezes. Even the thinnest fabrics wouldn't move to the demands of such a voice.
I shake my head and withhold the sigh and carry on, clinging to the trail of magic as it snakes away. She's clearly inputting the magic and controlling it as finely as any master might, but why is she being so awkwardly slow about it all...? I mind my head away from a hanging basket of flowers and carry on. My efforts to keep close to the trail send me towards more plants and their homes.
"Ah..." I realise, remembering what the elder Valkinvar enjoys with all of her heart. The city, she loves it and its people. She loves travelling it, enjoying the sights and talking with the people as they garden. Her route this entire time has been scenic. I glance around some more, taking in the lack of food being grown here.
A blink overtakes me as my thoughts wedge my mouth open.
"Flowers. Pretty flowers..." I breathe, letting my nose swell with their sweet smells, a bitter perfume aftertaste clinging to my tongue. This part of Thurnmourer-Thunlanann has yet to lose its sense of serenity. The worries of the war aren't quite manipulating the people here entirely. Or, maybe they are, just not in the ways the rest of the city has been affected.
The magic of the Eurultus-Valkinvar hooks my chin, tugging on me. My mind goes back to its primary focus and I soar above the city, hoping to skip the trail. It coils through dozens of streets and just as many rooftops and their gardens. The mortal-made fields and but one of many aelenvari quarters. As tent-filled as an actual flower of theirs might be.
I go down towards it, noticing how my superior's magic is coiling around so many of the pots there. I land on the somewhat expansive rooftop and walk about. Some aelenvari peek out of their tents, eyeing me in awe as my magic interacts with the Eurultus-Valkinvar's. My feet carry me further to the end of her twisting spell and I pick it up, separating it from the many pots scattered about.
"Aelenvari seeds." I realise, and I let my superior's magic fall back down to them. If the aelenvari are entirely aware of what is going on, I cannot tell. Though, I am sure they will appreciate this gift of strength from a Valkinvar as powerful as the Eurultus-Valkinvar. My pace picks up, throwing me off of the roof and I shoot off down the streets.
My superior's magic catches up, snaking out of view faster than I can safely travel. I twist and turn, going through more corners of the city until I burst back out into the open. The game's wear my patience thin and I twist about, my frown returning. Then my fists rip the quiet apart with their stretching gloves and shifting steel plates.
A finger taps on my shoulder and twist around, coming face-to-face with a woman I have so nearly forgot. I lurch away, eyes wide and body stiff with respect. I launch myself down, spinning out of control as my instincts forget the simple facts right now. We are flying.
"Sister Vapooliar, it is lovely to see you again," Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia greets, catching me out of my spin and sending me into another. I put a stop to the improvised dance and get myself back upright. A gulp forces its way down my throat and I cough it away. Though my armour is not flexible like cloth, I pat myself down as if it is, anyway.
"It's l-lovely to see you again, too, Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia, b-but-" I return, only to have a thinly gloved finger press up against my lips. Sealing them tight. My eyes focus on her glossy smile, envy of a pitiful sea green coming to them as I look at her lips sparkle. All the signs of her power there in every crevice of those soft things.
"Slow down, Sister Vapooliar, you are much to hectic. Even for a Valkinvar-Imdvarce." she says, giggling as she floats backwards, her curvy, Moonrim Emerald, body-length hair spreading out around her like it's in water. Her clothes are much the same, the slim, platinum-coated steel of her armour polished to an impossible, blinding shine. Yet, somehow, it's the dullest part of all that she is and wearing.
Were it not such a powerful gaze she has at her command, I would struggle to even focus on her!
"Eurultus-" I try to say, only to have my lips sealed again by her finger. She keeps on giggling, a gentle tut coming to her beautiful lips.
"*Sister* Vapooliar, how might I be of service to an old companion of mine?" she asks, releasing my tongue as the point gets across to me.
"S-Sister..." I blegh, not quite able to get it out. This is the Eurultus-Valkinvar, the Valkinvar of the Eastern Orange Wind! A member of the Four Points of the Compass! One of the four most powerful Valkinvar, full-stop! The most powerful Valkinvar-Wiswipide, at worst!
"Come on, you can do it now. It's only been five decades since you last did it, no?" she giggles, reviving my old memories with that welcoming warmth of hers. So untamed and untouched by what we are, one might think she's never been to war. A Valkinvar who knows nothing but peace. A paradox, by all definitions.
"Si-Sister Pymonsia, please. Enough games. I've something very important to discuss with you!" I say, the urgency of the matter making it hard to truly appreciate the fact I am reuniting with what I hope is an old friend.
"Oh? Oh!" Sister Pymonsia goes, her answer at first giving me hope. However, as she rushes up to me, the hope dies as she fusses over the state of my armour.
"No-"
"You've been dishonourably demoted? How unfortunate!" she lets out, her voice harbouring no insincerity in the slightest or anything malicious. Still...
"No, that's not the issue!" I snap, backing her off with a forceful tone.
"Mm." Sister Pymonsia lets out, and a quiver sends an icy feeling through me. I float backwards a handful of halfmans, emulating the back-step as well as I can and then some.
"No... That's not the issue, Sister Pymonsia. I'm here to talk to you about the war effort. I need you to clear some things up for me." I say and she frowns, that perfect smile of hers vanishing. Its warmth somehow lingers, but like a fire leaves embers, it's not quite all it was.
"The people are quite worried, as you are no doubt sure." Sister Pymonsia explains, throwing a gentle swing of the arm out to take my attention. I follow it, a mental image practically forming in my head. Only this small part of Thurnmourer-Thunlanann really has any of its old beauty left. The essential utility of crops might have its own beauty, but that is not what the streets of Thurn's Forge are known for.
Even the fountains, once bastions of flowerbeds and lily pads, have been reduced to becoming nothing more than a means to feed the irrigation systems...
"I can see that. I know that. But that's not what I am here to speak to you about." I say and she looks away, a damning sign coming to her lips. She gently clenches one hand, moving it to her mouth as the other hooks and holds it up by the elbow. She mutters away, only convicting her further of knowing what I want to know.
"Y-Yes, I suppose you are." she lets out and I leap for it, teeth bared and ready to be bloodied.
"So you do know!" I let out, almost dashing towards her and thrusting my accusatory finger against her.
"Walk with me, Sister Vapooliar." Sister Pymonsia invites me to do and I nod, a heavy blast of a sigh leaving my nose. I take my helmet off, shaking my mud brown hair out of their flattened state and I hook it to my side. She smiles, pulling back her veil and mask fully. Two gemstones stare back at my simple brown eyes and I gulp again. Nothing but awe flaring up inside of me as I am reminded of such power.
I float to her side, 'walking' with her as a slight smile comes to her lips. It opens her mouth, some thoughts trailing their way to her tongue. I match her smile, coming closer as the comfort of such strength reassures me. Even if it is not being used like it should be. The war needs to be fought.
The Domain of the Eastern Orange Wind isn't even secure!
It stretches from here, in Thurnmourer-Thunlanann and out as far as the Seventh Line and all the cities and fortresses we've lost since then. That is her domain, the domain of the Eurultus-Valkinvar. It has been hers since long before I was born, even. More than a hundred and thirty years and I'm not even using my actual age as a point of reference, I'm just...!
"Sister Pymonsia..." I let out, unable to get my thoughts together as too much begins to overwhelm me. The paranoia of our future, the fear of what is going to come back for us. The despair as the Valkinvar slip into the past. A crater of our home being all that remains.
"You notice how we are flying, and I asked you to 'walk,' with me?" she goes, giggling away on her lonesome as my frown settles in. She spots it and the giggles quake, but she forces them to carry on.
"Yes, I... I, uh, noticed." I answer, clinging to harshly to her attempts to change the topic. I know what she's doing, I can see it and she is aware I can see it. Neither of us are stupid. She might be wiser and more experienced than me, but neither of us are stupid. No Valkinvar is.
Reckless... But never stupid.
"Come, come. Let us relive old times' sake." she says, encouraging me to trail down at her side. Lest I get caught in the endless waves of her magnificent hair and attire. Embroidered with all the decoration and symbolism of someone of her position, yet so simple in its military focus. Ceremonial gear that is meant to find itself covered in the blood of the fallen enemy.
"I have to admit, I'm surprised a part of the city even still has its old lustre." I remark, trying to stir up some conversation while Sister Pymonsia seems apprehensive to talk. Much as time is a limited commodity right now, the righteousness of the poor is in their charity to those even less fortunate. We have a long enough time before the enemy return.
I can spare an afternoon to indulge old habits... I think.
"Mmm, I've tried my best to give comfort where I can. The people are stocking up on food with how little now comes into the city. We can sustain them without magic, we can sustain all life that way. But they don't want us to waste magic on such 'petty' things, as some within the temple believe." she explains, letting slip an odd bit of information.
I stare at her, cocking a brow skyward as I cling to her most recent words. Her lack of formality regarding the Grand Temple of the Four-Winded Valkinvar leaves much to be desired. She could be on about any old temple throughout the city. Though, it's even odder for a member of the urban population to complain about the luxury of spared magic power.
Am I pressing into oath-bound silence or am I seeing and understanding something that never existed? I cannot really say, most especially in the literal sense with how even the Eurultus-Valkinvar is being apprehensive about it. She clearly remembers me and still values my company. But what is driving her to be so reclusive about such an important topic?
I suppose I will learn, but the idea of discord among the Four Points of the Compass has me worried... Now is not the time to be arguing over whose territory takes priority in reclaiming. Our whole empire is in need of saving. Not just one bureaucratic border of it.