A Breath of Fresh Air

                Biara took a deep breath, steadying herself as the elves before her paused behind the huge double doors. Like the other Faeril with her, she was wearing a beautiful dress of white trimmed with gold; the classic attire of the Magi of Faetheril. Where the others merely blended into their dresses with their golden hair and teal eyes, Biara’s flame-red hair was accentuated by the lack of color in the dress itself, and eyes tended to be drawn towards her green gaze. At the moment however, none of this was very helpful as Biara did not want anyone paying her any attention.

                The delegation from the Magistrate had convened a day prior to discuss the results of several experiments that the Magi had been running independently. Where success had been virtually ensured by careful planning, something had gone awry with the various pieces of the spells and the research that the beleaguered looking group of Magi were required to report on was far from satisfactory. What was worse, the King himself had requested that the report be delivered before the full Council of Nobles, that the leaders of the realm could discuss the news and determine the best course of action in the days to come.

                Ordinarily Biara would have been ecstatic to have been selected to join the group of presenting Magi, however in this particular case she knew that several of the others had voted for her to attend as a means of pushing the blame for the failures onto her. Certainly the Council of Nobles would react poorly to the news they had to deliver; but to disappoint the King himself was one of the most embarrassing tasks the red-headed Magi had been forced to endure in recent days.

                On top of it all, she was still fuming at her sister Kyliska, whom had conveniently went to ‘check in on the garrisons’ after having been confronted about her lewd behavior. Biara shifted nervously in place, her heels scraping on the marble of the chamber in which they waited, her voice coming out in a muttered whisper, “She’s got some nerve!”

                One of the other Magi turned, an eyebrow raised as he stared at Biara, “Did you say something, Magi Dayfire?”

                “O-oh no, nothing. Just want to get this over with,” Biara replied hesitantly.

                The other Magi shook his head and shrugged, “Don’t we all. I don’t relish what the Council will have to make of our news. Fortunately I do not believe we’ve long to wait now; I can hear the herald announcing us.”

                As he finished speaking, the door before them was opened by two royal guards, the Faeril elves wearing gleaming golden armor with long spears in their free hands. The two guards stood at attention on either side of the open doorway as the voice of the court’s herald could be heard fading away into the massive room beyond, “…the Magistrate’s representatives, my Liege.”

                The Magi in front of Biara began to shuffle forward, exiting the small chamber and moving into the audience hall beyond. Biara followed the crowd, the arched doorway giving way to a vast semi-circle of marble benches that overlooked the flat marble floor below. The floor itself was a marvel, the stones interlaced with golden designs depicting the rays of the sun all emanating from the large marble throne that faced the circle of seats. Huge, sculpted marble columns rose up to support a ceiling hundreds of feet above them, the twinkle of magical lights that resembled stars visible in the motif above the audience.

                As enormous as the chamber was, it was also filled with Faeril elves, each of them wearing their absolute best and trying their hardest to outdo one another. Here sat the Council of Nobles, the most powerful and wealthy of all the Faeril and those whose words shaped the destiny of the last surviving High Elven realm on the continent of Auralon. No applause or cheers arose from the crowd, the attendees far too important to display such outward signs of interest. Biara knew their feelings well, for as both a noble and a Magi, she had sat amongst that august crowd multiple times.

                The crowd held Biara’s attention for only a moment, her gaze shifting away from the snooty stares of the wealthy and to the throne that faced them. As the congregation of Magi approached, they paused, and to a single elf fell to one knee in homage to King Meldoren Sunshaper. Biara kneeled amongst her peers, her green eyes gazing through the curtain of her red bangs to take in the sight of the King. It was rare for her to see him in public, and with her estate so far from Faetheril now, she’d not seen him in many years.

                He was, to the gossip and delight of the court, heartbreakingly handsome. With unusually dark black hair that fell to his shoulders, his blue eyes sparkled with energy and good-willed humor that radiated from his smile. Not one to be outdone by his royal guards, King Meldoren was at the peak of physical fitness, his rock-hard frame armored with ceremonial golden chain mail and a golden crown resting amongst his black locks, the gems on it glowing with a pale blue light. He gestured cordially at the group of kneeling elves, his voice carrying across the audience chamber by magic and causing the crowd behind to fall silent, “Please, rise my friends and deliver your report to this Court if you would.”

                The Magi rose, one of them shuffling out in front of the others to begin speaking. The group as a whole had drawn lots to see who would be the one to deliver the news, and Biara was glad that it was not she who had to speak at this moment in time. The Magi’s voice was weak as he spoke, fear underlying his tone, “My Liege, I fear that our news is not so bright, nor worthy of your attention. It seems our efforts to reinforce the warding spells surrounding Faetheril have failed.”

                The words instantly caused a stir amongst the nobles seated above and around the court, their murmurs echoing off of the stones and the sounds of disbelief common amongst them. From high above the heads of the Magi who stood before the King, a voice shouted down, “How could the entire Magistrate fail to perform such a simple task?! You were told to reinforce the wards so that another attack could never happen again! What are we to do now?!”

                The shout set off the nobles, and many of them began to nod and murmur more loudly. The King held up a hand for silence, and it was clear from the length of time it took for silence to return that the news had indeed disturbed the nobles. And why wouldn’t it? Faetheril had been attacked quite recently by waves of undead that had used a traitor and some simple portal spells to bypass the major defenses of the realms. While the wards had been re-keyed to new runes, another traitor could just as easily accomplish the same task and bypass the defenses a second time.

The King waited for all traces of noise to die down before responding, “This is grave news indeed. If we cannot reinforce or alter the wards, our realm could be in danger. The lands of Althera are unsettled now with that Kingdom’s fall, and we have other enemies which shall not be named in this joyful place. I am disappointed that your august body could do no more than this. What suggestions do you have now?”

The poor Magi that the others had elected to speak swallowed a lump in his throat, shaking his head, “My Liege, we have few suggestions to offer. Our best idea is simply deploy your best agents to root out those who would seek to lay us low.”

Mocking laughter arose from several parts of the benches above, and Biara felt her face turning beet red at the embarrassment. The Magistrate had failed to deliver on a promised solution, and now they would bear the brunt of verbal abuse from the nobles. The loss of face was devastating to a group that, until now, was considered the height of power beside the King and Council themselves.

Again the King waited for the crowd to fall silent, an act that took much longer this time. When he spoke again, his tone was laced with irritation, “I see. I shall take your…suggestion…under advisement then. If that is all, then I would advise you to depart so we can discuss business that is actually relevant to the realm’s health. You are dismissed.”

Mocking laughter erupted from the crowd of nobles, the Magi before the King cowering down, many turning and beginning to shuffle back towards the doors from which they came. Biara was mortified, her heart pounding in her chest and her ire burning like acid in the back of her throat. As the laughter rained down on her, she felt her anger boil over to a tipping point and explode abruptly, “My Liege, I do have another suggestion!”

Several of the other Magi turned and shot murderous glares at Biara, even as the laughter of the nobles cut off abruptly, the entire chamber falling silent at the brazen disregard for protocol; the King had dismissed the group of bumbling magic users after all!

For his part, the King tilted his head, studying the red-haired Magi that had dared to speak out of turn. She stood defiantly amongst the downcast looking party that had entered the chamber, her back ramrod straight and a flush gracing her pretty pale cheeks. After a moment, he nodded at her, beckoning her towards him. Biara rushed forward from amongst the crowd, falling to her knees before the throne.

“My Liege, I beg your pardon for speaking out of place, but I can remain silent no longer,” Biara said, her words rushing out with her breath. “The others would not entertain my ideas, but doing something is better than failure, and we have to try if we’re to protect this realm.”

The King smiled at this, gazing at the prostrate Magi before him. His tone was gentle when he spoke, surprising the silent audience, “Rise, Magi, and tell me your name.”

Biara came to her feet, holding herself upright and meeting the King’s gaze, “My Liege, I am the Lady Biara Dayfire, Magi of Faetheril and heir of House Sunfire. I am at your service.”

New peals of laughter drifted down from the crowd, and Biara felt her face flush a deeper red even as she held her composure. The King smiled at her, his tone kind and curious, “Lady Dayfire, are you not of the very same House that lost their own spire within this city after the undead foe was driven from their walls?”

Biara ignored the laughter coming from the nobles above her, ignored the damage her reputation would take from receiving a rebuke from the King, and instead spoke her heart, “I am indeed, my Liege. It is because of this that I am ideally suited to present you with an additional idea. You see, unlike others within this city, I can actually learn from my mistakes. The very same acts that brought our enemies here also penetrated the defenses on House Dayfire’s spire that day. My loss is no different from the losses suffered by this city. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. I acknowledge my shame and understand how to prevent it from ever happening again. I swear it.”

The King paused, considering Biara’s words for a moment. He studied her closely, his eyes taking in her confidence, her boldness in presenting herself in such a fashion. His gaze drank in the sight of the wards that glittered with a light blue glow on her right cheek, noting how they accentuated the beauty of her face rather than subtracting from it. After a moment, he nodded, his voice more serious now, “You have heart, Lady Dayfire. This is something that is often lacking within these chambers. I will entertain your idea, if you can present it to me here and now in an efficient manner.”

Biara’s eyes widened in surprise for just a moment at having scored such a victory, the crowd behind her falling silent now. She quickly regained her composure, her hands coming up and gesturing as she spoke, “My Liege, the matter is one of security. The wards of Faetheril, much like the wards on my former spire, require keys for those who live within to bypass them. Like the keys to a lock, over time we become lazy and create copies. We give them to our servants, our friends, our allies. Eventually the entire point of the lock, or in this case the wards, is lost. Once an enemy has a hold of a wardstone, they will find it an easy matter to create portals or other spells that bypass the wards.”

Biara paused, beginning to pace back and forth now, speaking as if to a group of apprentices, her tone lecturing, “We cannot possibly, as the others suggest, police ourselves enough to uncover every traitor. Instead we must improve the security of the wards themselves, improve the locks and the keys if you will. If we create wards that require an ever-shifting set of runes to activate, stealing a single key and removing it from Faetheril would do little, as the ward-key would become invalid without shifting along with the others. A spy would need to breach our defenses from the outside and get their own portal within to break into our Kingdom this way.”

Behind Biara, several of the other Magi sneered, a few shaking their heads and muttering. Biara turned and glared at them, still lecturing, “These others believe it is not possible to create spells that can cause the entire warding of Faetheril to shift in such a fashion. They believe it is too difficult a task or too much work. I say that they are wrong! We are the greatest magic users on the face of Estera! Our skill built this kingdom and has protected it for countless eons. When all the other kingdoms of old fell into ruin, Faetheril remained standing to this day. I am of the youth of this Kingdom, and I say that we can once again create new spells, use new powers that will defend this realm until time itself comes to an end.”

Biara’s words came to a halt, her glare softening as she turned her gaze back to the King. She dipped into a curtsey, her voice low now, “While I’ve not the skill to do this task alone, I will work at it as my life’s work until it is done. I swear it, my Liege. Simply give me the tools to make it so, and it will be done.”

The crowd began to murmur above Biara, no longer mocking her now, many debating the wisdom of the suggestion. It was a massive undertaking, and the wards of Faetheril had not been altered in such a way in millennia other than to change which specific rune would work as a key to bypass the spells. Biara’s suggestion, while difficult, would fundamentally reinforce the existing spell-works if it could be made to work.

The King sat on his throne silently for a few moments, his eyes closing as he pondered the idea. The crowd eventually grew still as he stirred, a smile passing across his face, “Lady Dayfire, let it not be said that you are lacking in boldness. Your suggestion has merit, and even if the others disagree with you, it only means that the specific method of accomplishing it has yet to be discovered. I applaud you for speaking out. You have enlightened this chamber with your wisdom, courage, and beauty. I bid you to begin this work at once, using what resources you feel are prudent in such an endeavor.”

Biara turned bright pink from the tips of her lightly pointed ears to her chin. She curtsied again deeply, her words sputtering out, “I thank you, my Liege. Your will shall be done at once.”

With that she rose, turned and marched defiantly out of the chamber, the other Magi glaring at her and a spattering of applause coming from a few of the nobles that supported her; a rare gesture that was not lost on the others present.

As the doors closed behind Biara and sealed her away from the audience chamber, Biara let her breath escape her in a great sigh, all of the tension leaving her in a moment. She had work to do now, and the King’s blessing to begin it! Aiding Faetheril with her magic was her destiny, and she would see it done.