Message #165297

[JeVondair]

The Day of Black Sun
The Eyrie was the tallest building in all of Xavax and had served as the royal residence since being built by Xerarch Magnus as a palace in the earliest days of the Imperium. Greater Xavax was new then, filled with hope, and the spire’s architecture reflected this with sound grace. Though surely lovely, it was unadorned save for the most pragmatic of accoutrements as it was not a defensive structure and the martially-minded Xavax preferred military investments over grandiose embellishments. From the arched gateway entrance through the halls and up the many, many stairs is said to take an average man 15,782 steps. Even getting to the Throne was meant as a trial for the strong, the strong-willed, and the stout of heart. After and up all that way sits the Phoenix Throne, a highbacked greatchair worked with antlers to give the appearance of an avian nest and crested with the image of a phoenix reborn wrought in gold flames, was the only chair in the room. The Throne sat upon a dais raised high enough that a seated figure would still be a head and shoulders above even the tallest man and flanked by ever-burning braziers. It was Selenia who added the braziers…believing that any who sat in “The Hotseat” should remain ever aware of the fire’s symbolism as well as the burden of the braziers oppressive heat to prevent the throne from ever being “too comfortable” in her words. The Throne itself was backed by Great floor-to-ceiling windows whose westward faces let in the rays of the noon-to-setting sun and arranged in a crescent arch ringed the entire throne room, which itself was large enough to comfortably fit 100 people. To look at the seated Phoenix Queen was to take in a vista that held the whole of Greater Xavax in view. Beyond the windows were balconies that allowed the nobles of the Imperium to survey their domain just as the winged figure they took as their symbol. The only entrance was flanked by a contingent of the Xerarch’s mountainous, crimson-clad Royal Guards. The throne room took up fully half the Erie spire’s circumference, festooned with trophies from past battles won, the rest being walled off to form the Royal Apartments servants quarters, and gallery that began the long journey back downstairs.

Today, however, was not like other days. Though it was high noon and clear outside, darkness had fallen across the city of Xavax. In the skies above, the moon had blotted out the light of the sun.

The Phoenix Queen sat upon her throne in full regalia beneath the Black Sun, watching as her remaining nobles filed in. She’d chosen a dress instead of the elven chain or dueling leathers she normally affected. It was the same dress she’d worn only once before – an artwork of deep crimson and startling gold that she’d greeted High King Zinar in on the fateful day she’d owon Caligus to the Imperium’s side and briefly changed the tide of the Xavax Wars. Her garb matched her station in every respect. She wore the Phoenix Laurel, which served as her crown, proudly upon her brow. Her dress left her arms and shoulders bare, cut in a V-shape in the front. Her lips were full and made for smirking, her features were evenly spaced, and there was a dignity about her that commanded respect. She appeared to be in her mid 30’s, although it was well known that she was approaching her 60’s. Such was an affect of the many magics that had been worked upon her, for good and for ill, over the years. She was powerfully well built and clearly in top-athletic form, indicating to any with eyes to see that she was clearly a practiced swordswoman, and if her tone alone was not enough, the light white of faded scars would reveal her for the warrior she was even with the shapely curves hinted at by the curves and planes of her dress. One of those scars, faded with time but still a large and ugly mar of her flesh, was situated just to the right of her heart and above the swell of her breasts – a memento from Minas Nova from the lance that had been driven through her chest, killing her instantly. Seeing her now, alive and glowing from the braziers light, it was easy to understand how this woman had mothered not one but TWO empires and killed both generals and traitors in duels to the death.

This was her first public appearance since the Path of Ashes. She had even failed to acknowledge the recent execution of Corvo Attano, who, it was whispered, served as one of her Black Flames. Whispers permeated the Phoenix Court and beyond that perhaps the Xerarch was ill. Perhaps she was dying. Perhaps she had been broken. Even Imperial High Command, it was said, had only heard from her via intermediaries. The truth was that no one really knew what had happened to Selenia, whether she was well or dire. She’d shut herself off from the world and hadn’t left the Erie since the Battle of Abadan some weeks prior. The firelight from the braziers made it harder, rather than easier, to discern her features from far away. But one did not need to see her face to sense her mood. And the renewed determination emanating from her seemed strong enough to replace the missing sun in the sky. It was a subtle thing hinted at by the way she sat immobile upon the throne with her shoulder’s square and her eyes focused on nothing in particular, how she seemed cool or at least resigned to the oppressive radiation of the braziers that bathed her in ruddy-gold light. But for that, she might have been cast from iron for all she revealed.

Nobles congregated, staying a respectful distance from the throne and the blazing heat of its twin braziers, whispering among themselves about the eclipse and the Xerarch’s ominous summons. Those who had female captains leading their units had brought these captains with them, filling up the space left by the nobles who had departed north. None approached her, knowing better than to do so until she said her piece, and knowing that she would not speak until she could be sure her words would be heard by her entire court. Even Sir Andross Blint, the first to arrive and an obvious favorite of the Crown, did to encroach. Hushed murmurs, the swishing of robes and the clanking of steel boots on stone echoed as the Imperium’s noblemen milled about whispering to one another about the Black Sun and its portents on the timing of their Queen’s unexpected summons as they waited on the last stragglers to arrive.

Soon, the black sun would reach its zenith, the total eclipse would align perfectly with the placement of the Phoenix throne as though crowning Selenia in a dark, fiery halo. She was clearly waiting for this moment to speak her words.

Words of Fire that affecting the rise and fall of empires.

When the shadow of the moon before the sun fell fully over the Phoenix Court, the Xerarch stood at last, her very movement commanding the silence and attention of the room. She had something in her lap and unfurled it to reveal a Redwing, the first Redwing, sewn for Selenia's banner by the fallen hero Jarvin (THE Redwing) Bedegar himself. It's very presence a reminder of all blood of Xavax heroes that had been spilled in this war. "I have been defeated." She began, her eyes swept back and forth as she spoke, pausing briefly here and there. "Despite the righteousness of our cause, despite the warrior spirit in our hearts, despite the gods themselves sending me back to you from beyond the pall of death. I was defeated. And in defeat, I was ashamed, for who deserves the mantle of rulership over so worthy a people as the Xavax without bringing them victory? Never mind the odds, nor how well we fared against them for so long. Never mind the treachery, the deceit, the sabotage, for what does a Phoenix do if not rise?"

"But after everything, beloved friends and vassals lost to the toll of war, the creeping sickness of betrayal, armies of enemies closing in from ever side, all felt lost. Everything we'd worke to build and maintain for so long against such impossible adversity was slowly being torn from our grasp. Foes closing in on every side, it had never been more clear that I had failed you, failed all of Xavax, and in my weakness, failed in my ultimate responsibility...I failed you, my people. And so I returned here," she said with a gesture that took in the entire city, "to wait for the end. Waiting for the final swing of the blade like cattle, like prey." She said that last with the disgust and vehemence of a frustrated hunter, she paced back and forth along the dais like a caged lioness. Firelight danced in her eyes as she projected her voice. "Until I was reminded of the words I told your countrymen when we breached the defenses in Abadan not long ago. Do you remember? I told them that Xavax is not just some pile of stone or a bit of red splashed on a map somewhere. The Xavax are a people. The Xavax are my people, and the real failure, the real betrayal, would be to continue as I have, quietly resigned to my fate. I thought I was choosing the hard road, going down with her ship as a Captain must." She ran the Redwing flag through her hands, playing her fingertips along the stitching. "In truth, I was being a coward because I know now that simply waiting here was the easier choice. It will be harder by far to keep struggling, to keep fighting, to keep moving forward toward the dream of a peaceful and powerful Xavax."

"I was wrong" she continued quietly as though to herself. Ears strained to hear her now over the pop and crackle of the braziers at her side. At the farside of the room, the sunlight began do grow as the eclipse started to pass. She held the throne room captive with her eyes, locking briefly with Sir Andross Blint and Dame Elessa Raven who had been the first to arrive at her summons. Peppered among the crowd were soldiering women, Captains who'd been invited at the Xerarch's command. They were here because Selenia was the one who had decreed that anyone who can lead and fight should do so. It was because of the Xerarch that there were any female captains at all, and the reminder spurred by their presence fortified her. "It is not going well for our people." She said simply. "There, in the north, they are fractured. Weakened without is, devolving into strife. Months may pass, maybe years, but eventually they will loose themselves to their circumstances, forget who they are, where they come from. They will forget that they are Xavax. And therin lies the true defeat, the final defeat, that which the Southern Alliance longs for. And hear in my self pity, I was about to gift-wrap my enemies greatest desire: A ruined and forgotten Xavax."

"I am done waiting for my fate to come find me. Instead, I will ride out to meet it. So long as there is breath in my body I will fight on." As her gaze swept the room the last shadows of the eclipse were chased away. The noon sun returned, bathing the assembled nobility in its full, golden glory. Selenia basked in the warmth, her expression changing from morose to one radiating the heat of renewed determination. "Prepare yourselves for a journey and battle. We are abandoning Xavax City. We ride north to join our countrymen. There we will continue the fight against the Southern Alliance until we win or until I've no life left to fight with." She held them captive with her eyes, her expression laden with purpose. "I cannot promise you victory. I cannot promise you a new Xavax. I can only promise you a Hard Path. But I can promise you one thing: Hard though the Path may be, it winds through fields of glory."

"Will you choose to follow me boldly into this new and uncertain future? Will you place your faith in me, your Xerach who was raised from the ashes of death and trust me to find a way to raise Xavax from the ashes of defeat?" She'd placed her hand over her heart - and the ugly scar, a visceral reminder of her harrowing tale. "They, our enemies, and I, your Xerarch, for once made the same mistake...we'd forgotten the most crucial symbol that holds the very fabric of Xavax society together...one that has more than once brought our foes to their knees. I summoned you all here to remind you of what that thing is..."

The shadow of the moon was fully gone now, banished, with the sun glowing brilliantly as though it had never been obscured. With deliberate poise, she wrapped the Redwing banner as a shawl across her bared shoulders, literally wrapping herself in the flag of her beleaguered nation. "We are the Phoenix," she said, opening her arms to their full span to include all of the assembled nobles. "We will rise. We will always rise. Follow me, and our sacred fires will burn throughout the north."

(Fun thing about playing with a JeV is we tend to save/document the juicy bits. This one was on Selenia's page.)