Matriarch Valakono arrived with all the pompous pageantry befitting her stature. Her parade was led by a platoon of soldiers. Behind the fighting force marched their servants, and then the servants of the lords and ladies in the Matriarch’s troupe. Each such patrician rode on horseback or was carried in curtained litters, draped in golden gilt and the finest of threads. The Matriarch herself—to Farek’s surprise—did not relax within a curtained sedan; she sat sideways in the saddle of an enormous barb. She looked through a silvery veil and surveyed the crowds of Sorosi commoners with a gaze as regal as her standing. Her sharp wrinkles and sunken eyes seemed softened by the shroud. Contrarily, the knife-like pins that kept her braided grey hair in its bun remained harshly angular.
More soldiers marched behind the entourage, and the crowds closed into a wall of cheers and chaos after their passing.
Farek attended the brief ceremony at his estate, as Mazaar Jannia received the Matriarch. After a speech of welcome to Lady Valakono on behalf of the city, Jannia invited the aged woman to a meeting room in the mansion. Farek did not attend.
In his family’s study, Farek found Devender hunched over a large page marked with tiny font. The magician barely noticed him enter, even as Lord Gallendris stepped past a brazier and blocked his light. Devender waved his hand irritably before flicking his eyes up for a moment and freezing. Then he slowly recomposed himself and said, “Ah, Farek. I didn’t see you come in.”
“I noticed,” Farek said, smiling. “Did you not attend the Matriarch’s arrival?”
Devender smirked and shook his head. “I spoke with the Matriarchs briefly during my stay in Noress-That-Was. Little more than that occurred. I don’t know what our royal Lady is doing here, but it certainly has nothing to do with me.”
“I thought you surveyed options for study in Noress,” Farek pointed out. He knew why Valakono was here—likely, it was to discuss the state of Lo Mallago and the recent involvement of Sorosi lords in the whole affair.
“I spoke at length with Sha, the Lord of Insight. He pointed me in the right direction,” Devender said. He swatted his hand to scare off a moth from the dusty tome he had been scouring. With a scowl, he muttered, “You really do need more incense in here.”
“What are you reading?” Farek asked, stepping closer.
Devender shrugged dismissively. He showed Farek the cover. “It’s a record of great magicians throughout history. It says here that Akliar the Ancient returned to Radregar nearly two hundred years ago—all the other accounts I’ve found only record his ventures eastward into Numa’nakres. None mention a return journey.”
“Does it say why he returned?” Farek asked.
“No. Only Akliar’s apprentices ever knew what his plans were,” Devender explained. “But perhaps I can learn more of where he resided or where he was seen….” He trailed off and then grinned at Farek. “It’s a scholar’s delight, my friend. Makes little difference to the rest of you.”
Farek chuckled. “It is a bit outside my realm of expertise.” He seemed to recall once before feigning to be a history buff.
“I could find a book that explains this in a broader context, if you’re interested.” Devender rooted through a pile of other books while he muttered, “It’s just a fascination of mine, though.”
“That’s not necessary,” Farek said with a shrug. “I doubt I’d have the time at the moment.”
Devender went back to his reading and Farek went for a pint at Norrey’s. He heard a few stories while he was there. The war on the Great Isle was still growing, widening its chaotic maw to swallow up the Grey Sea itself. Pirates roamed with courage across the Grey Sea and Orrish, while the Barons on the Isle struggled to surpass their old rivalries and fight back. From Radregar came stories of further unrest in the central inland. Now, even Ith had caved to revolutionary uprisings. All Farek could think as he drank Norrey’s best brews was that the world was falling apart around him.
When he at last returned to his estate, Farek caught Matriarch Valakono as she was leaving from a dinner with Jannia. She smiled to Farek and allowed him to kiss the back of her hand. Without her silver veil, she reminded Farek of grandmothers he had met. She still regarded him with the shrewd gaze of a ruler. “How is the bachelor-Gallendris?” she asked. “Still carousing the grandest banquets of Soros?”
“Of course,” Farek replied, smiling.
“Well, enjoy them while you can,” Valakono murmured. “The partying days may be numbered.”
With that, the Matriarch retired to her quarters. Farek was left watching her guards escort her away and wondering what on Gethra she had meant by that. Then, he sought out his sister. Jannia, it seemed, had retired to her quarters already—Farek found her cradling a glass of whiskey. “You want one?” she asked.
Farek smirked. “So, the meeting went that poorly then?”
“I wish Thrane had never begun this whole Lo Mallago scheme.” She sipped her drink, made an O with her lips, and then continued, “But I suppose it was inevitable. The Matriarchs are set on acquiring the city as the newest colony of the Empire.”
“So you have some extra work on your shoulders? Or is there something else?” Farek leaned against the corner table, though he had not poured a drink from the many glass flasks and carafes that served as its decoration.
“The Matriarchs have been slowly building alliances with Lo Mallago since their financial deal with the Family of Sheld and the bought leaders of the city,” Jannia explained. “Thrane’s recent endeavors have only been adding to that. Now the Matriarchs have decided on the best way to secure the city for the future: marriage.”
“Marriage?” asked Farek. He turned and began to pour another whiskey glass. “To who?”
Jannia took a deep breath. “One of the Matriarch’s heirs will wed a powerful lord or lady of Lo Mallago and, to continue the structure of our Empire, one of us will marry another of the colony’s leaders.”
“How gracious of them,” Farek said. He took a long draw from his glass as he walked to a chair near the one that Jannia lounged in.
His sister raised hers. “Indeed,” she blurted.
“While I can clearly see you are unhappy with this situation,” Farek began, “what is your overall feeling about all of this?”
“It is what is best for Var Nordos.” The Mazaar leaned forward in her chair, her face catching the rays of twilight through the nearby window. “I can accept that. I just don’t like how it affects us personally. Unfortunately, living as rulers requires a surrender of personal life.”
Farek nodded slowly. “Seeing as I have no strings attached, might I presume to be the most likely candidate?” He finished off his whiskey and stood to get another.
His sister grimaced. As she spoke, Farek crossed the room and poured his second glass. “This is all new information, so no decisions have been made yet,” Jannia assured him. “I make a stronger bargaining piece than you, but I also would be unable to continue my responsibilities with the Bank from afar….” She trailed off, then decided, “We’ll need to think on this a while.”
A whole lot of chaos… Farek thought of the world again. I really did not see this coming. He lifted the crystal glass to his chapped lips again and finished its contents in one smooth gulp.