Unbound

Voracious Eye!

Name: Narin Saaf

Race: Sylphaen

Level: 43

HP: 2433/2433

SP: 6699/6742MP: 4345/4345Lore: The Sylphaen are a precursor of modern Elves, and have deep ties to the Supreme Elemental of air. As with many Races in the early Ages of the Continent, the Sylphaen carry part of that elemental power with them. Many of their core spaces are air attuned, which makes them particularly adept at flight with their vividly colored wings.Strength: More Data RequiredWeakness: More Data Required

The other two were Mosa and Idin Saaf, relations of some sort, and all of them lower leveled than Narin. Felix checked his memories, comparing them. They looked as gaunt as the Winged Elf in Felix’s visions, but their hair color was different, as were their wings. The Unbound had wings of many different colors in a sort of gradient of hue, while these Sylphaen bore feathers almost entirely of one color, with only a smattering of others along the inner portions and top edge.

Felix checked his connections to the Unbound. It was dulled, as it had been for a while, with Archie and Imara somewhere relatively close. Beef was moving above him, somewhere in an upper level, and the rest were scattered far and wide. The cord he associated with the Winged Elf was dim and distant.

“What is wrong?” Vess asked. Only then did Felix realize that he’d crumbled one of the forks in his hand as if it were made of aluminum foil.

While the dancers certainly noticed Felix’s analyzing them—he could tell by the deep flinches during their movements—the Flight of Elegance were professionals. They continued their dance as the shorter Korvaa around them rotated into a spin, their earth-toned wings flared outward. Soon the Sylphaen moved as well, leaping between the gathered Korvaa as if jumping across a wall. The Korvaa fell backward, tumbling head over heels before fetching back up onto their clawed feet.

Magic swirled, shadow, illusion, and light Mana pouring from palms and elbows until the dancers were obscured by a veil of seeming. Snow looked to fall, until it appeared like a frigid squall had erupted within the ballroom. The fallen Korvaa had become walls and buildings, the Sylphaen fire, and all of it raged. In their midst, white figures bathed in flame stormed the walls. The Korvaa swept forward, wings held out as if bearing mighty weapons, and met the dangerous tide.

Trolls. Trolls versus the Watch and Ironclads, Felix realized. They’re reenacting the fight against Imara.

When one of the Sylphaen appeared garbed in golden light and the illusory sheen of metal armor, another stepped out of the wreckage. A figure in a dark coat with bright blue eyes. Felix’s stomach sank as they danced around one another, their movements in sync as only a pair of dancers could be. Overly dramatic movements were attacks, knocking each other around and to the ground, but it was clear from the outset that the Titan was on the backfoot.

The fight continued, a strange, floating dream before Felix’s eyes. It conjured memories as he watched, too close to reality for comfort and too strangely surreal to take it seriously. He was left in a strange limbo, consumed by the magic of their performance as the inevitable played out. And it was magic, Felix was surprised to note. Humming threads of the Grand Harmony sang from them, hidden within the fabric of the world but expressed by their pure movements. It was beautiful, in a haunting sort of way…which made the end all the more jarring.

“Felix” struck the “Titan” and the dancer flew away, propelled by spiraling illusions off into the snowy distance. Yet there was no Doric. No sacrifice. As if the man’s final act meant nothing, the performance ended and the ballroom went dark.

Applause erupted, great and booming cheers following calls for more. At his table, Felix was jerked from the spell, his unsure enjoyment turned abruptly sour. Warm enveloped his hand as Vess took it, and Felix blinked at her. She said nothing, and Felix was thankful for that. He wasn’t sure he had the right words to say, anyway.

“I wasn’t even in that,” Pit protested.

Unbidden, a chuckle escaped Felix’s lips. He ruffled Pit’s doggy ears and pushed another plate of steak at him.

The performers basked for a bit longer in their applause, but soon they departed, this time through the doors of the servants. Musicians were ushered in to replace them, and soon began a series of relatively sedate songs. Felix frowned. It was like elevator music gone medieval, and all the worse for the transition.

Lord Oslo emerged from behind the throne, once again in his normal clothing and smoking his long-stemmed pipe. He was grinning widely as he sidled up to their table. “What did you think, Mr. Veil? Was it not glorious? Not an exact replaying of events, but such is art!”

“It was…” Felix cleared his throat. “It was great.”

“The magic was quite dazzling,” Vess agreed, amping up her own enthusiasm to cover for Felix’s flat delivery. “How did you come across this troupe?”

“By thinking beyond the rigid mindset of my people. Too many Dwarves are mired in past glories to reach for something new, but not I. The Flight of Elegance is renowned in their own Territory, and when I chanced upon them during my travels I was delighted. I’ve hired them on for the next year, as I have done for a great many artists, in the hopes that they can bring a little outside perspective to the Hold.”

“Their Territory…where would that be?” Felix asked.

“Hm? Oh, they hail from mysterious Sunara! Where the stones stand as high as mountains, worn to pillars beneath tempestuous winds and the very waters boil beneath their feet!” Bron laughed. “A fanciful description for patrons. But it is truly an inhospitable place to Dwarf or Human, and only those blessed with flight may traverse the land.”

Vess laughed along with him, and her brown eyes flashed gold. “I have heard of it, that is north of the jungles of Jaast, is it not?”

“It is! You are a traveler too?”

“Only in my dreams. My father has a grand collection of maps.” Vess tapped her dark lips. “Sunara. I have heard they are fiercely isolated. How did you even find them?”

“By lucky chance, as I said. I have journeyed far and wide across the Continent, and hope to one day see it all. One benefit of being a landless noble,” Bron said with a wink.

The garrulous man kept going for a bit longer, but it was all pleasantries and nonsense to Felix as he marked down the Territory of Sunara in his impressive memory. Even if the Sylphaen here had nothing to do with the Winged Elf, Felix had a new place to check. Still, as Bron departed to speak with other waiting nobles, Felix couldn’t help but eye the door the troupe exited.

“We need to talk to them. Those dancers were the same Race as the Winged Elf,” he said to Vess in low whisper.

She clenched her jaw, but nodded. “What do you wish to do about it? We cannot leave, or else we may miss our chance to speak with the Hinterlord.”

Felix growled, yet barely noticed the noise even as the dishes around him rattled. Vess stilled them with a touch. The downside of being a “hero” was that everyone was watching him, even as he did nothing more than sit and stare into the middle distance. People would notice if Felix or Vess left to speak to the Sylphaen.

“I can go,” Pit said. “I’ll sneak my way through.”

“An excellent idea,” Vess agreed.

Felix bit his lip before nodding. His friend would be safe enough in the palace. “Right. Go fast, keep hidden, and stay in contact.”

Pit hopped down off his lap and under the table. There, Felix felt Gloaming Shroud activate, coating Pit in a mixture of shadow, light, and earth Mana. When he scampered from beneath the table, he was barely visible, and that was with Adept eyes and knowing where to look. Before long, he vanished into the opposing tables where the nobility still stuffed their faces.

Tell me when you’re there, Felix sent.

I know. I got it.

The doors across the ballroom opened and closed as servants picked up used platters and dirty cutlery. He couldn’t tell exactly when Pit made it through, but the sudden swell of triumph across their bond was a good general indicator. Felix waited, drumming his fingers on the table.

“You should relax, Autarch,” Yintarion suggested. His form was still bundled up in the golden cape/shawl combo Vess wore, but his eyes shone through the diaphanous material. “Worrying will not solve our many dilemmas.” The music swelled as the staid and sedate songs were replaced with something more lively. “This is a ballroom. My many years among you mortals has shown me that you love little more than a chance to dance. It will improve your mood.”

“An inspired idea. Our Companions are quite brilliant,” Vess said. She stood and offered Felix her hand. “Will you join me?”

Felix sighed, but managed a wan smile. “Yes. Of course, I will.”

Together they swept out onto the center of the ballroom, where a number of Dwarves had already started dancing. Vess led, her steps sure as she adapted to the music, and Felix just barely kept up. His Skills and stats were great and powerful, but dancing hadn’t ever been in his wheelhouse. The third time he stepped on Vess’ foot, he grew frustrated.

“Here, watch my feet,” Vess offered. She performed a sample step, placing her feet just so before turning and repeating the process. “This is a simple one.”

Felix burned the pattern into his brain, and took up her hands again. This time, he made no mistakes. He smiled. “Huh.”

“Now to make it complicated,” Vess said with an impish smile.

“Wait, why—”

She took off, giving Felix little choice but to flow with her or be left behind. Her steps followed the same pattern as before, but every other turn she added more flourishes and movements.

“This was how my first instructor taught me my movement Skill,” she said, a flush of color on her cheeks as they moved together. “This is a battlefield, just as any other. Treat it as such, and it becomes far easier. Right?”

Felix, who was matching her step for step, gave a rueful grin. “Such a simple change of perspective, and it helps so much.”

They danced, and their display did not go unnoticed. Other couples moved to the floor, their own movements just as graceful and studied, until the ballroom was packed with those dancing. The songs turned happy, bouncy, and invigorating, pushing all of them to greater heights.

More than a simple distraction, Felix found himself having fun. There was a joy in movement, something often forgot in his drive to train and improve his Skills. Holding Vess close, they whirled about the dance floor, complicated steps weaving among the crowd. She was warm, even through her armor, and the laughter in her eyes was a balm to his frazzled nerves.

At some point the songs slowed and their pace with it. They stood among many, carefully navigating a measured pace, and Felix’s thoughts caught up to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Vess raised an eyebrow. “For?”

“Before. With that Rosalind lady. She asked if we—I hesitated. You called us ‘associates.’ I don’t know what we are, yet, but that felt…lesser.”

She cocked her head, and a curl tumbled loose from her temple. “Did you think I was angry?”

He winced through his smile. “I mean, I thought you thought it might have been rude—”

“Felix. You have an ability to read my emotions. Do I seem angry now?”

“Well, I usually don’t use that on you. It’s invasive, and…oh, no you’re not.” He paused. “If you’re that amused by me, I guess I’m a lot funnier than I thought.”

“You can be, but no. You are an incredibly frustrating man, but you are also good. Compassionate to a fault, and willing to make hard choices for your people. You deny it and cast aside crowns and scepters, but you are a king, Felix. It is baked into your bones.”

“I’m all that?” Felix asked, a little nonplussed.

“You are.”

“And you’re not mad.”

A smile quirked her lips. “I am not. I—if I were being honest, ‘associate’ was only a balm to my wounds. I did not wish to presume that—we shared a meal and a kiss and I too am unsure. Of where I stand.”

Felix held her a bit closer to him as the music swelled. “You stand with me.”

That dimpled smile blossomed. “So I do.”

“Still, it is worthwhile to make our Intent clear, is it not? I would officially court you, if I could, Felix Nevarre.” She looked up at him, the gold in her brown eyes catching the light. “Would that be…pleasing to you?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been courted before,” Felix admitted. “It’s fancy.”

“Evie says I am the fanciest.” Vess bit her lip. “What do you say?”

In response, Felix kissed her.

Yintarion snorted out a little bit of smoke. “Mortal courtship. Bah. A silly tradition.”

“Mr. Veil?”

Felix and Vess stopped in their tracks, their dance interrupted by a familiar woman flanked by two Forge Knights. The courier, except now she was wearing an elaborate formal gown.

She curtsied. “The Hinterlord would like a word.”

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