markets. Reminiscent of the poorest living conditions in Middengard, it was not a place where any respectable Ereubinian spent any length of time, aside from the wardens who spent most of their lives among the humans, or vessels, as they were often called.
Beyond the outer courts past the dividing wall was an ornate, richly decorated world full of the finest things any being could be afforded. With the whole of Middengard in service to the elite, no expense was spared in catering to them. There was nothing Garren could not obtain should he want it.
At the very center of Eidolon was the pristine temple of the Goddess Ciara. Built in brilliant, almost luminescent, white stone, it stood out among even the more elaborate structures surrounding it. It represented the Goddess’ righteousness and purity.
Garren handed over his Dragee as soon as he entered the inner courts, ignoring the salutations of those who milled about. Having grown used to their subservience, he felt their outward displays of humility no longer deserved his attention.
As soon as he was in his chambers, he summoned Tadraem. He knew his men were all exhausted, but this needed to be dealt with before their feast on morrow’s eve.
“My liege,” Tadraem gave him a respectful partial bow, smiling as Garren waved his guards from the room.
“You have impressed their eminence with your faith and perseverance,” Garren said stoically. “Assuming your acceptance, you will be granted the honor of becoming the new High Priest.”
Tadraem tilted his head. “I’m more than grateful, but, may I speak candidly with you?”
Tadraem was older than Garren, having taken him as his charge soon after Garren’s father, Seth, died. Though Tadraem rarely mentioned Seth, the two had been close confidants before his death. It seemed fitting, Garren supposed, that Tadraem would have taken the roles as his mentor and guardian after Seth’s death.
“Of course you may,” Garren thought it unusual that Tadraem would behave with such reluctance. He knew better than to ask permission to be forthright with Garren.
“Are you not pleased with your accomplishment? You seem rather … distracted.”
Garren was irritated that it was apparent. “Indifferent, perhaps. Palingard was much stronger when Ruiari was still a stronghold. It would be a stretch to call this anything more than unfinished business.”
Even he wasn’t convinced of his answer. Palingard was the last remaining province of any kingdom in Middengard, and while it held very little for them tangibly speaking, it had been of particular importance to Adoria, therefore it was even more important to Eidolon symbolically.
Tadraem had led the earlier failed siege on Palingard, and it was more than significant that they had now so easily destroyed it, especially considering Michael’s most recent efforts at thwarting their approach. Garren considered this as he revised his statement, realizing that this was a much larger victory to Tadraem than to him.
“You obtained this for Her Holiness years ago. If it were not for your decision to ride on Palingard then, Ruiari and Cornumas would not have let down their defenses. They made the mistake of thinking us ill-prepared instead of knowing the truth of why Palingard was lost to us in the first place.”
Tadraem seemed pleased with this response. “Then I will leave you, if there is nothing further. There is much thanks to be given to the Goddess, and I am certain we all need more rest than we can find before the morrow’s events.”
“Fair night, then. Please tell my ever-vigilant shadows that I’m retiring. I need to tend to this wound and, as usual, I would like to remain undisturbed.”
Tadraem stifled a chuckle as he bowed, then turned and left the room. It was no secret that Garren loathed his guards. Having grown up in near-anonymity, the constant shuffle of armored feet served as an annoyance more than a sense of security.
Garren began to pull at his
Beyond the outer courts past the dividing wall was an ornate, richly decorated world full of the finest things any being could be afforded. With the whole of Middengard in service to the elite, no expense was spared in catering to them. There was nothing Garren could not obtain should he want it.
At the very center of Eidolon was the pristine temple of the Goddess Ciara. Built in brilliant, almost luminescent, white stone, it stood out among even the more elaborate structures surrounding it. It represented the Goddess’ righteousness and purity.
Garren handed over his Dragee as soon as he entered the inner courts, ignoring the salutations of those who milled about. Having grown used to their subservience, he felt their outward displays of humility no longer deserved his attention.
As soon as he was in his chambers, he summoned Tadraem. He knew his men were all exhausted, but this needed to be dealt with before their feast on morrow’s eve.
“My liege,” Tadraem gave him a respectful partial bow, smiling as Garren waved his guards from the room.
“You have impressed their eminence with your faith and perseverance,” Garren said stoically. “Assuming your acceptance, you will be granted the honor of becoming the new High Priest.”
Tadraem tilted his head. “I’m more than grateful, but, may I speak candidly with you?”
Tadraem was older than Garren, having taken him as his charge soon after Garren’s father, Seth, died. Though Tadraem rarely mentioned Seth, the two had been close confidants before his death. It seemed fitting, Garren supposed, that Tadraem would have taken the roles as his mentor and guardian after Seth’s death.
“Of course you may,” Garren thought it unusual that Tadraem would behave with such reluctance. He knew better than to ask permission to be forthright with Garren.
“Are you not pleased with your accomplishment? You seem rather … distracted.”
Garren was irritated that it was apparent. “Indifferent, perhaps. Palingard was much stronger when Ruiari was still a stronghold. It would be a stretch to call this anything more than unfinished business.”
Even he wasn’t convinced of his answer. Palingard was the last remaining province of any kingdom in Middengard, and while it held very little for them tangibly speaking, it had been of particular importance to Adoria, therefore it was even more important to Eidolon symbolically.
Tadraem had led the earlier failed siege on Palingard, and it was more than significant that they had now so easily destroyed it, especially considering Michael’s most recent efforts at thwarting their approach. Garren considered this as he revised his statement, realizing that this was a much larger victory to Tadraem than to him.
“You obtained this for Her Holiness years ago. If it were not for your decision to ride on Palingard then, Ruiari and Cornumas would not have let down their defenses. They made the mistake of thinking us ill-prepared instead of knowing the truth of why Palingard was lost to us in the first place.”
Tadraem seemed pleased with this response. “Then I will leave you, if there is nothing further. There is much thanks to be given to the Goddess, and I am certain we all need more rest than we can find before the morrow’s events.”
“Fair night, then. Please tell my ever-vigilant shadows that I’m retiring. I need to tend to this wound and, as usual, I would like to remain undisturbed.”
Tadraem stifled a chuckle as he bowed, then turned and left the room. It was no secret that Garren loathed his guards. Having grown up in near-anonymity, the constant shuffle of armored feet served as an annoyance more than a sense of security.
Garren began to pull at his
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