Dragon Mirror- Ties Between the Veil
Three: Silkvetr, A History, and His Plans

The walls of Silkvetr castle were dark and foreboding in the night. Black marble shot through with pink and white veins echoed the pacing footsteps of a single man within the assembly hall. His patience bore no reflection in the hunched silent figure standing near the side of the raised dais holding a finely polished marble throne.

The quiet figure regarded the throne, tracing the mute marbled veins along the straight backed chair, admiring the simplicity as the king stalked out his rage.

“Throw the bones again!” The king turned angrily to the other, torchlight illuminating his face, highlighting a long aristocratic nose, and thin pursed lips. Bright blonde hair fell free of the velvet coif with the violence of his movements.

“Ay, beg yo pa’don, Sai’ah. Ih won’ change tha truth.” Wizened hands pulled down the cowl hood, revealing an old crone. Her hair was sparse, white and wispy across her cadaverous head. Sharp yellow teeth shown in the fires light as she grinned.

“DrakunMagis ha’ been born to tha world. Tha balance an’ disruption been proofed with tha fac-t.” The t on the last word was forcibly clicked, startling the king mildly as she began to cackle. Blue sapphire eyes glinted, nearly black in the darkness in the hall.

“NO. The balance is intact! The DrakunMagi exist no longer!” His panic reached a crescendo as he was swept up in his world’s history.

Several hundred years ago, his world had been thrown out of balance. No one actually knew exactly why, but most suspected that the bonding of Aya’Chyn, creatures full of elemental lore, had been the root cause of unrest.

Magic and Nature’s force were given over to be controlled and contained by the Aya’Chyn and their bonded, who were called ‘DrakunMagi’. But the world became unbalanced, and the DrakunMagi began to be infected by the destructive symptoms of elemental corruption.

The key component of this corruption was a plague, a blight that would steal the intelligence and willpower of a living being.

Once affected, the individual would slowly lose all of their mental faculties except the few things that by some modern philosophers, were considered to be the core of the individual.

For lesser creatures, such as herd animals, or pets, this core might be the action of eating, sleeping, or seasonal rutt. For more sentient beings, this core might be an action of enjoyment, such as the motions of art, or singing.

Often, the core of a sentient being would be the same as a lesser being. And the unfortunate affected by Blight would mindlessly move their bodies in the act, such as eating… even if the food they devoured were dirt and rocks.

Once affected by this plague, the affected would continuously act out its core until their bodies died or rotted away.

Spiritual beings would not react so strongly, but the end was just as fatal. Guardian sprites began to sicken and die. Some of the more powerful lasted long enough to be driven insane, rampaging and ravening until others captured or slew them.

It grew out of control, blazing up the lines of divine connection, inciting the Elemental Guardians themselves to war against each other.

Eventually the infection of imbalance would overcome the DrakunMagi, and one of the bonded pair would die. The world of Szrathia became a dimmer place, as each death took with it the inherent magical energy of the land and dissipated it to the unknown behind the Veil.

The king tugged on his tabard, nervously adjusting his belt. His heritage rose from the decline of the DrakunMagi.

As it became apparent that the DrakunMagi were dying, the Magi Council was disbanded, and the chaotic struggle left in its passing gave rise to a banding together of the families left behind by the DrakunMagi.

They worked together to quell the rise of insanity among the elemental sprites and Guardians. They elected a single leader from those descended of Palliza, one of the Firstborn DrakunMagi. They worked with the Charbitian Empire to control the chaos and those affected by Blight.

Gameatta was a well renowned woman, widow of one of the last Magi to die. Her leadership pulled many out of panic and strengthened communal ties.

She was a natural born witch, having no need of an Aya’Chyn to enhance her abilities. Silkvetr glanced up at the mural mosaic covering the domed ceiling. His ancestor was depicted, hair flying, surrounded by her twelve chosen priests and priestesses of the Ever Turning Wheel. The Witch Warriors were surrounded by their aura signatures, each standing on the backdrop of a large twelve spoke wheel, with Gameatta at the center. The Four were the most powerful, the two priests and priestesses of the cardinal elements. Working alongside them were the other Eight, all revolving around the One.

They had fought and repressed the insane creatures of the Guardians. Sealing them away or sending them to the Other plane. One epic battle, Gameatta’s conquest against a wind sprite, the infamous Nathranolar the Wind Razor, had won her a crown and a husband from the Charbitian Empire. This cemented her line, bestowing power and prestige on her accomplishments in her lands.

The King turned and fell backward into his throne, exhaustion overcoming him. The alliance constructed by his ancestor was falling apart under his reign. His hold on the alliance was slipping, all because of the contention between suitors.

The Charbitian princess, Cassiridara was supposed to have been his wife by now, but the betrothal had been put in contention by a Charbitian noble who had strong beliefs in the separation of the kingdoms. Gadorganar spoke out against the further mingling of DrakunMagi and Charbitian blood.

He had made enough of a nuisance of himself that it had taken months to persuade the Charbitian Senate to agree to award him the strengthening of bloodlines he needed.

He ground his teeth in frustration as the old crone slyly watched him fume. It had all been for naught. All of the hard work that he and his chancellors had accomplished had been dashed to pieces when his promised bride had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

When he had been told by the ambassador, he had made a very crude mistake. For the first time in his reign since an assassin had murdered his father, he had flown into a black rage. He struck out at the man, and knocked the ambassador, and subsequently his alliance, to the cold marble floor. To be fair, the ambassador had been a smug prig about the whole affair.

Shaking hands rubbed hot forehead. The bloodlines needed to be strengthened. The DrakunMagi blood was thin of magic, and the essential elemental bonds that came from the Charbitian race were necessary. The thought of the coming cataclysm made his skin crawl with apprehension.

There was no telling what form of disaster would arise with the birth of a new DrakunMagis. Entire cultures had been built on the fear of the elemental magic gone rogue from the Tilting. The moment the DrakunMagis came forth, mass panic would follow. Even if no repercussions occurred elementally, the populace would have mixed reactions. His kingdom needed to be stable and hold strong.

His hands stilled. His mind took flight on dozens of new possibilities. The DrakunMagis was prophesied to herald the coming of new rule, and a cataclysm of epic proportions that would reform the known world.

What if he controlled the DrakunMagis? The king turned to the crone, his mouth opening in a slack jawed gape as his thoughts whirled about. He could send Ian. He could intercept this person and guide them to benefit his kingdom the most.

The young noble was a Charbitian sent to him for fosterage at the age of nine. He was twenty three now, and when the break in the alliance had happened, the boy had opted to stay in his court, showing a surprising loyalty to his foster father.

At first he had been suspicious of the boy’s motives, but after some thought, had realized that the boy’s loyalty was truly well placed and set, considering how disdainful his blood relatives were of the boy’s existence. The king’s eyebrows drew down in an agitated scowl.

His loyalty was only strained in integrity by the fact that his twin sister had come into his custody a month before the break in alliance. Silkvetr’s dark eyes softened in contemplation.

Kasey had arrived in the private quarter in the midst of a spring storm in full swing. Her cloak had fallen back to reveal a sweet heart shaped face framed by lustrous wavy auburn hair. Black penetrating eyes had riveted in quiet appraisal as he and his charge Ian looked up at her in surprise over a mountain of paperwork piled on a long oak table in the main hall.

The guard announced her and turned on his heel and exited in a most peculiar fashion, as if controlled by strings. The King had scowled.

She had beguiled the guard. At first he had been intensely angered at a witch intruding into his private domain and controlling his men. The fact that she would have had to possess an extraordinary amount of power to overcome the palace wards only occurred to him much later. But the peculiar reaction of his fosterling forestalled any harsh words.

Ian had looked in confusion at the drenched woman in their presence as she dumped her luggage to the floor with an unceremonious wet plop.

“I see that time has addled your brain brother.” Ian’s mouth had gaped open in astonishment. The girl’s voice was pure music.

“KASEY!?” Silkvetr had watched in bemusement as his foster son had stumbled past the table, knocking down painstakingly ordered reports to the floor.

He heard hushed exclamations and inquiries as to her unexpected appearance as the twins embraced. He noted in passing that they shared nothing in coloring, Ian’s white blond hair and ice blue eyes contrasted with his sister’s darker beauty.

He did concede begrudgingly that the two were closely tied as two identically structured faces turned to face him. They had the same slanted eyes and elegantly formed nose and high cheekbones. Full lips in dark faces mirrored each other as they both broke into impish grins, as if they had just shared an outrageous joke.

“Kasey has decided to visit indefinitely. The proceedings in the Charbitian Senate ramble long into the nights, disturbing the life of the common folk. She has tired of the boring rumble of the crotchety old chancellors and senate members. And since she is not necessary to the decisions of State…” Kasey smirked at her brother as he trailed off. They both waited on Silkvetr’s decision.

He fiddled with his ear, his unruly hair tickled his face, free of queue or coif. The twins stared expectantly at him.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have her stay. She can fill me in on the latest gossip about what that infernal princess Cassiridara and her inane council are up to! We just signed a treaty and betrothal by proxy, and not a word from the Charbitians on my betrothed!” The king felt his face flush, and scowled, cranky and irate with all the diplomatic garbage.

Ian’s face had flushed as well, and his sister’s eyebrows had shot up into her hairline. “I am sure the Queen will contact you when everything is concrete, she has ever been cautious and unwilling to leap headfirst into a situation rushed without complete surety.” Kasey’s musical voice lilted in amusement and slight chagrin. A look passed between the twins and his mood soured further.

“Rushed?! Pah!” He flung his hands out, casting rolled reports and loose papers everywhere. “Months of haggling with the senate as if she were an okapi mare on the bidding block, bidding with that asinine Gadorganar, and never a preference from the lady herself! Wedded and bedded if she had shown an inkling of desire in the proceedings! I could have courted her and shown her what a real nobleman is like compared to that pompous sop, only if the chit had emerged from her hole instead of dragging it out with imbecile ambassadors!”

Silkvetr stopped abruptly and sucked on his lower lip, ashamed at his outburst and the blatant shock on the twins' faces. “Ah, forgive me.” He twisted his fingers together, caressing a golden ring set with a tear drop sapphire. He lifted his eyes and blanched as his gaze was caught by Kasey’s. Anger and insult were apparent.

“I apologize, my dear. I am frustrated. None of this would be necessary had my wife lived through childbirth.”

Her gaze softened a bit. “I appreciate your frustration, yet I implore you to refrain from insulting my Queen. Considering that your late wife was her cousin, I think she also feels your frustration.” Her words were quiet, and emotion crackled behind her hooded eyes. He had been mollified by the reproach in her manner.

The king came back to himself in the present day, pushing aside the fondness Kasey had earned from him over the months of her stay. She was at Ian’s side constantly. At first this had annoyed him, but the girl had a wonderful head on her shoulders, and proved she was just as valuable an adviser as Ian had been raised to be.

“Send for Ian. I will send him to collect information, and possibly intercept the DrakunMagis. He should visit the prominent bloodlines, and hopefully replace and enlist the wraith eaten bastard, and if not…” He looked down at his hands, frowning. He would have to give the boy his best kagami to stay in contact with the boy…

His calloused fingertips clutched and he grimaced. He would have to outfit for two, because he harbored no doubt that his sister would go with him.

“If the world is about to be thrown into chaos, I need to secure what I can. The damn Charbitian ambassador is likely to be back with his asinine demands as soon as things start becoming chaotic.”

He stood and strode towards his office, categorizing and organizing what he would need to put into motion and who he would have to contact.

Silkvetr was too preoccupied to notice the baleful grin spreading across the crone's face.