Chapter 110
“...and know, my fellow colleagues, friends, associates, subordinates, assistants, admirers, articulate adversaries and all those others so assembled here in this gloriously, yet in no way garishly decorated reception hall at this hallowed, historic and honorable happening, that we seek not only to enable and enervate this experimental endeavor that seeks to engender an edifying and equitably egalitarian enterprise to extend the existence of law into the ersatz empire of evil; an expedition that emboldens so many earnest, and certainly not erstwhile exhibitions of emotions of trust and facilitation and goodwill between our organizations...” continued this most recent chancellor or councilor, or something with a title.
Arch-Vicar General Barabus surreptitiously pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. He rubbed his eyes. They were only two and a half hours into the dinner. It was scheduled for eight hours. Fortunately, servants kept the food and wine coming. There were also nearby facilities to relieve oneself. It was apparent from both the setup and the behavior of the Oorstemothians at the party that such long dinners were not uncommon occurrences.
He reached for his water glass, glancing next to him as he did so and noting that his dining companion to his left, Wing Master Heron, had his eyes closed. That was actually reassuring to the arch-vicar general; Heron’s reaction showed that at least the Oorstemothian armed forces were human.
He glanced down the table to see Gadius and Gaius staring in rapt attention at the speaker. How could those two manage that? The knights did have to go through insane levels of courtly training, but he found it hard to imagine that even the best Church instructors could have prepared them for this particular ordeal.
He had been relieved when he had arrived in Keeper’s City to see that Gaius had joined Gadius here. Back in Freehold, Gadius had told him that Gaius was occupied on another Holy Mission. Apparently, that had ended. The knights were generally quite autonomous once they got to the Rampant level. Fortunately, when the chips were down, they always came through. Rescuing Talarius would obviously be something the knights would give a high priority.
As his gaze traveled idly down the table, noting Sir Lady Serah, he wondered where the knights were stabling their unique steeds. Very few stables would take a hippogriff, since that would obviously cause a panic among the horses. The two unicorns, one midnight black — War Bringer — and the other opalescent white — Peace Bringer — would probably not bother the horses much. However, their odd, all-knowing gazes would surely discomfort the grooms.
Actually, as Barabus thought about it, he wondered if mythological creatures were even legal in Keeper’s City. As far as he could tell, one needed the proper permit to vacate one’s bowels! He was not sure how long he could deal with the Oorstemothians.
Tomorrow they would see this project of Chancellor Alighieri’s, the one the chancellor had assured them had been specifically designed for just such a mission as the one they faced now. How that could be, he had no idea, but he saw very few options other than just giving up for now.
Sir Lady Serah’s head nodded downward before jerking back up. Barabus grinned in triumph, very pleased to see that even his own knights had some limits of endurance! Yes, an odd thing to be relieved about, but dinners like this were not what warriors like himself, or Heron apparently, were trained for.
Dinner had been extraordinary, Gastropé thought, suppressing a loud belch. He shook his head slightly at the pain of choking back a belch. He was sure, however, that their alvaren hosts would have thought him crude.
He had never had pure alvaren cooking before. There had been some alvaren dishes at that crazy feast in the Grove, although his memory was not completely clear on that point. This, however, had been an entire meal of alvaren dishes. The flavors were sublime.
The conversation had been quite interesting as well. He and Jenn had confined themselves to smaller questions. The level of historical knowledge and world geography required to add anything relevant to the discussion was a bit beyond him. He grinned to himself; it was very difficult to sound knowledgeable when discussing history with a table full of people well over a thousand years old.
Oddly, Maelen managed to keep up his part of the conversation, even though he was an admitted babe by comparison. Trevin was also incredibly knowledgeable. While she obviously looked to be well over a hundred, that too would be but a toddler to the elves. However, she talked about events from a thousand years ago as if she had witnessed them herself.
The wine was getting to him; he found himself chuckling again. Yes, the enchantress was incredibly old-looking, but she would have been dust if she had actually seen the things discussed. Jenn glanced at him and his chuckling. She was smiling, having a good time even as he was. Probably the wine affecting her as well.
It was odd, in the soft candlelight of the room, to look at Jenn there smiling and think of her as the weed-wrangling wizard who had changed his career trajectory so much. She had been a most pleasant traveling companion for someone who had tried to strangle him when they had first met. She was also quite attractive in this light. Strange that he had never really noticed that before. Again the wine. He smiled brightly at her.
He was about to say something, probably stupid, when an urgent knock came at the door. It was late in the evening, the servants came and went silently; who would be knocking?
Dresdech, their local host and Seamach’s principal contact, rose to answer the door. He opened the door a small distance; Gastropé could not see who was on the other side.
“Bastien? You are a mess! You seem to be a complete wreck. What is the matter?” The concern in the elf’s voice was clearly discernable.
Gastropé saw Trevin sit up in surprise and look to the door from her wine glass. The enchantress seemed to find the breech of alvaren composure as shocking, if not more so, than Gastropé.
Gastropé could just barely hear the exhausted Bastien on the other side of the door. “I come straight, without stopping, from Murgatroy at my great-grandfather Neelon’s request.”
Dresdech shook his head. “What is the matter? He is not ill, is he?”
Bastien still seemed out of breath, or quite tired. “He is fine; however, he bade me to bring this urgent message to the Principality and the Grove.”
Dresdech blinked, clearly taken by surprise. “Come in. Come in. It is an ominous coincidence that we are here speaking Grove business this very evening. Trevin D’Vils is here.” He gestured for Bastien to come in.
A younger-looking elf entered, clearly disheveled and dirty with wild, windblown hair from a hard ride. His eyes glanced to Seamach, Bealach and Captain Ehéarellis, seeming relieved to see them and giving each a nod. His eyes traveled briefly over each of the aetós with a nod, and he managed to not wince at the sight of the dwarves.
When Bastien’s eyes finally lit on Trevin D’Vils, the alvaren ranger bowed deeply and gave her a bright smile. “Mistress D’Vils! Seeing you is a pleasure I have not had in over eight hundred years!”
“At your half-millennial! I recall, Bastien. It was a grand event. Your grandfather and great-grandfather were both so pleased!”
Gastropé blinked and turned to Jenn to see her already staring at him. Trevin was over eight hundred years old? Jenn mouthed something to him. “I take it back, she looks quite good for her age!” was what he thought she said. He could barely suppress a drunken giggle. He had to though, because this was clearly serious.
“What dire news brings you in such haste, good ranger?” Trevin asked Bastien.