Autumn’s chill joined forces with the North Wind to create a
bitter beast covering the land by night. With a timid entrance by the sun the
beast retained its mastery of the air, surrendering only a frigid layer of dew
upon the ground. Pewter clouds in elongated forms roamed the horizon and
restrained the daylight. Unwilling to concede the sky so easily, the sun
attempted to rise above the haze to gain dominance. Though valiant, the effort
was barely noticed as the murky air continued to hold the land in captivity.
Reluctantly, the sun continued across the sky and hoped for better fortune on
the morrow.
In the great Palace of Marinhalk the bustle of everyday life
was well under way. The activity was vibrant by midmorning in all but the north
wing. It was as though day had not yet come to that area.
The north wing was the smallest and yet most isolated part
of the palace. Standing far into the courtyard, only a long elevated corridor
connected it to the rest of the capital building. Running at the height of the
second floor, the enclosed passage was supported by a series of elaborate
arches amidst a rose garden.
The interior of the span was the true masterpiece of the
palace. Stained glass windowpanes adorned the walls along its entire length.
They were separated into sections in which events had been depicted in the
shaded glass. Each area illustrated a great event in the military history of
the Mandrean Empire. Common characteristics were an emperor basking in the
glory of victory with his followers gazing at him in adoration and slain
enemies at his feet. The gore of battle had been omitted as the emperor was consistently
portrayed in a heroic if not god-like fashion. White marble tiles seamlessly
covered the floor in opulence. Slender columns separated the glass portraits.
They supported a vaulted ceiling of amber glass. The designers had gone to
great lengths to ensure the area was generously illuminated from dawn to dusk. It
was the ultimate shrine to Mandrean greatness.
At the palace end of the hall were grand oak double-doors on
polished brass hinges. To their side was a staircase spiraling down toward the
lower parts of the palace. So discreet was the opening it blended with the
columns nearby and nearly went unnoticed.
The unmistakable sound of footsteps on the stairs shattered
the previously tranquil moment. A diminutive figure emerged from the stairwell
with a sense of purpose. The person wore a turquoise hooded robe that covered
the head and made the face only visible from the front. Even though the person
was roughly the height of Necromancer, the figure clearly belonged to someone
else. The attire too was of fine quality but not to the standard he had
displayed.
Silently the robed person walked with a brisk pace down the
center of the hall toward the North Wing. A majesty of colors descended from
the stained glass to change the appearance of the robe and dance across the
marble floor. Unimpressed, the figure continued to advance on the north end of
the passage.
Clearly coming into view was another double door. This one
was hand carved with scrollwork and artistry rarely seen. An Imperial Guard
stood on either side at attention with a spear in their hand closest to the
door. As the robed person approached, the sentries did not avert their eyes
from their focus down the hall. They crossed their spears before the entrance
to impede any further progress.
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