Repair potions have been added to the 10 doubloon book in the Narrowhaven reward tent. For those of you who wish to purchase them using quest points rather than doubloons you can use the currency exchange. As with other items, these may be removed at …
Marius glanced up from his tomes and scrolls as Syrian, his right hand, peered thru the archway of a spelled door that had been magically carved into the wall. There was a soft pop as the magical wards across the threshold, recognizing a friend, allowed Syrian to pass. The wall became solid again hiding the entrance to the archon’s private archive from view. Only a handful of Tel’fahria’s nobles, members of the governing council, and of course Syrian and his family even knew that it existed. Here Marius hid away artifacts and spells of wondrous power. Some he’d found in his personal travels, others had been taken from the countless battlefields that his people had fought on in an effort to secure their often short-lived peace. Marius closed the tome on his desk as Syrian approached. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Marius smiled as he spoke which only served to grate on the nerves of his always ridged and forthright protector. “I just returned from the council chambers. I am told you intend to undo the remnant enchantment your father placed on the outcasts?” Marius nodded, sighing as he stood and straightened his robes. “Enchantment? Is that really what you would call it Syrian, or are you just parroting the justifications offered by my late father for his continual failings to mend the rift that has stood for far too long amongst our people?” Syrian seemed a little stung by the retort but pressed on regardless, “Your father’s reign was a different. Try to understand that during the age of his ascension the children of Kirvas Eld were still new to us.” Marius scoffed at that. “The children of Kirvas Eld? Come now Syrian, don’t spare me their accepted moniker. Go on, you can say it. I shouldn’t like to have to command you.” Syrian paused “war kindred then.” Marius continued “Yes, the war kindred. the broken caste within our own society which we shun for their love of warfare. Made necessary by the fall of our settlements across the various worlds. Kirvas was trying to solve a problem, and my father’s intercession, your intercession, ended up making them what they are. I know it isn’t a popular opinion amongst the council, but I believe Kirvas was trying to improve our people. No, I suppose I know he was. My father couldn’t see it. You both interrupted him before his work was complete, and then he was put to death by the council. It is, in its own small way, comeuppance that Arimus became one of the afflicted. He suffers from a fate you and my father foist upon him, and then cruelly abandoned him to. To make matters worse I find amongst my father’s things a spell that kept my brother from his birthright. You, the council, and my father lead us all to believe they were broken. They aren’t. My father, with the council’s help, broke them.” Syrian was at a loss for words for a moment. “We will defer to your judgement, of course, but I trust you understand the consequences involved.” Marius nodded, having moved to a window so that he could look over the garden. “I do understand the consequences of my actions, and unlike my father, I am willing to face them. Leave me. I will send for you when it is time to begin the ritual.” Syrian gave a customary bow, turning to go.
So this was to be the first great act of their new archon? In part he was proud of Marius, and even if he did not agree with this decision he would support him in it. He made his way thru the long and winding hallways that lead out of the palace. His small processional guard, lead by his two daughters Sophia and Erin, greeted him as he entered the gardens. They looked after him as he strode past, without a word, and motioned the small column of soldiers to begin their march home. They passed spacious avenues where his people, along with the various other races they harbored, sold every manor of good. Children played in the streets weaving in and out of stands and alleys carefree in their activities though some of the older ones did stop to watch the column of soldiers pass. As Syrian’s troupe reached the grounds of his spacious estate the servants and soldiers of his house ceased their activities to acknowledge the return of their lord. Sophia kept at his heel while Erin lead the column of soldiers away. He turned to Sophia, finally, when they were out of earshot of the soldiers and servants. “Send word for your brother to return home, before too long we may be called upon to defend the archon’s palace from attack.” Sophia quirked a brow? “The daemon princes?” Syrian shook his head. “No, the other nobles of the governing council.” Sophia’s face went ashen and she raced off in search of the nearest messengers.