Ersia: Raven Dawn

[Glorious Forest of Glaseach, Fal' Athrandor]

Two weeks after the sighting of Randia, the Four Great Nations reached a decision to call for a Grand Summit. The imposing event is planned to be held at Fal' Athrandor, The Royal Capital of Unisium Faelanas. Now, on the 19th day of summer, leaders of the Known World have all gathered inside the gates of the elven realm, except for one.

As the representative of the Aramian Empire, Nicholas and his contingent had a lot to prepare and ended up arriving the last of all for the occasion. He and his entourage entered the realm through the Western Gate. Their crimson banners are in contrast with the lushed greeneries around them. They have yet to reach the inner side of the capital itself, but the beauty of the place clearly held them captive already.

Fal' Athrandor is an enchanted city. It's a harmonious matrimony of magic and nature. Every inch of the city is alive. The woods listen, the water whispers and the winds follow. Bioluminescent decorates the branch-made walls, as flowers do the path. Certainly, it's a place that charms every sense of the five.

"This is my first time seeing the fabled capital of the elves," whispered one of the knights.

"Hey, you best don't look around too much! I've been told that the beauty of this forest is the work of the elven magic to trap you here!"

"No way! You're just being overly paranoid!"

"Ah ha! That's what I'm talking about! You're starting to talk like one!"

The knights stop talking when they hear the sound of a man putting his cup down on its ceramic coaster. They follow the source of the noise only to find Nicholas looking at them from the window of his royal carriage. His eyes are those of judging, but they didn't know that the judgment wasn't meant for them.

"O-Our deepest apology, Your Excellency!"

"Knights being lighthearted is a sign of peace and prosperity. Your very behaviour is a dream come true for the fallen heroes. Though, I will be counting on your might if anything bad should happen."

The knights bow low and their hands steady next to their hearts, showing the gesture of salutation and devotion.

"However, they are watching us through every moss and bug."

"Is it even possible to utilize Alana in such a way, Your Excellency?"

"Since it's the elves that we're talking about, it's certainly possible … Hence, it would be most desired of you to remain sharp and don't let them read you. After all, this is the first Grand Summit since The Last March. Who knows how many vines are tangled in such a place?"

"Understood, Your Excellency."

After roughly twenty minutes, Nicholas and the Aramian officials finally arrived at the Western Gate. It's a great gate, guarded by a pair of giant arcane towers emanating magical energy in the form of blue light. Ornaments and certain inscribed patterns embellished the giant door, making it otherworldly difficult for uninvited guests to sneak and go beyond.

As soon as the entourage stopped their march, a pair of black and white owls came forth from the orbs of the arcane tower. Their eyes emitted a mysterious glow as they perched atop the gate. Nicholas noticed that the black one seemed to carry a scroll in its talons, while the white one carried a small box the size of half a man's palm.

"The master of the contingent, please step forward," the owls speak simultaneously.

Nicholas stepped forward and the black owl flew down on him. It dropped the scroll in his hands before returning to perch atop the gate. He opened it and found himself a spell-woven letter of agreement inside. It's written that for security purposes, every master of the contingent must mark the paper with their blood so that no one of the respective country delegations can leave and enter the inner city without their personal permission.

"What if I refuse?" said Nicholas with a menacing look on his face.

"With all due respect, Your Excellency, we deemed it mandatory," said the owl after a long pause.

"Fine, fine. I was joking."

Nicholas signed the paper and now it's the white owl's turn to approach him. It dropped the small box in his hands. When Nicholas opened it, he found a ring crowned with a fine emerald inside.

"What is this?"

"An instrument that acts as your permit pass."

The gate suddenly makes noises. The inscribed patterns glow, and the bundling vines are untangling. Beyond the vines, the Aramians can see the true shape of the gate. It's white-coloured and seemingly contains the depiction of the origin of the elves.

When the gate finally opens, there are ten elven officials standing on the other side. Each of them carries with them a silver salver containing dozens of necklaces.

"In case of emergency, the master can give their permission to members of their delegation to leave the capital city. The colorless gem in the necklace will turn blue as you touch it with your ring."

"While in the event of an incident, no delegations of all the participating country shall be permitted to leave the capital city until all the necklaces are counted."

Thus, every delegate of the Aramian Empire except for Nicholas was obliged to wear the necklace. Only when all is done, they are allowed to enter the gate.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Your Excellency."

The elven officials returned to the other side at the gate right after they were done handing out the necklaces. The owls went silent for a couple of seconds.

"The delegations of the Aramian Empire have arrived!"

"Welcome to Fal' Athrandor, honourable guests!"

---

 

[Inner Domain, Fal’ Athrandor]

The gate opens and the Aramians enter the capital city of the elves. Fal' Athrandor is essentially a civilization carved upon the world's oldest tree, Eol'thaire. While the centre of the city lies on the middle part of the tree's trunk, the place itself is isolated by a circling river and waterfalls.

The only way to get over the great gap of the river between the city and the gates is by eight bridges that were made of pure empyramite, an exceptionally rare stone that can only be found in the heart of ancient volcanoes. The eight bridges themselves symbolize all of the cardinal directions.

The delegates from other countries looked down from the balcony of the lodging palace, watching as the Aramians marched towards the capital. Their footsteps are loud, and their presence is strong. Half of the watching eyes were filled with grudge and contempt, while the other half were that of fear and wary.

Amongst the scornful eyes, a pair belonged to a knight of the Holy Theocracy of Helden.

"Warmongers, squint-eyed foxes, craven witches, lowly pirates, greedy sand-eaters, and half-sane crafters. Just the thought of breathing the same air with these heathens is enough to churn my stomach!"

"Mind your manner, Richard. We are not enemies. At least for today."

"But Priestess-!"

The lady vestured in a silky cedar dress let out a sigh. The dangling beads on her headdress create chimes and glitters, making her anxiety known to all. Although it's hard to see through the veil that covers her face, anyone who pays closer attention can understand that she is frowning.

"Small country like us must never show any enmity towards anyone of the Great Four. Or would you rather sacrifice children's lives for the sake of your pride, Richard?"

". . . My apology, Priestess Sonya."

"Especially Aramia . . . I don't think you have ever seen Aramia in a war for yourself. They are absolutely the ones we should never get in trouble with. The only one who can halt their advance is a fellow Great Four, and their own internal strife."

With the arrival of the delegations of the Aramian Empire, the Grand Summit is ready to be held. Trumpets are blown and the fairy dances to make the flowers bloom even more brightly. Cold tension fills the air as the delegations of every country stand side by side. There are no less than a thousand men with dozens of banners mustered on the field for the opening ceremony.

---

 

After the ceremony was done, they held a banquet to lighten the mood and soothe the suspense between each delegation. As the proverb says, 'food is the gateway to the soul', the method proves to be very reliable across all kinds of races and nations. Food has once again proven itself as the best lingua franca of all.

Only when the feast was done, did the true officials of each nation go for the real discussion. They ascend to the higher part of Eol'thaire with giant leaves utilized by magic. Most of the officials were astonished by the peculiarity of transport mode, some were even having difficulties maintaining their calm and elegance. Their reaction is but reasonable since Fal' Athrandor had always been isolated from the outside world until this very day.

The assembly begins with the elven hosts entering the room. Originally, The Unisium Faelanas was an aristocracy with three High Elders as its ruling sovereigns, each one representing the major sub-race of the elves. This time, one of the High Elders, Auryon Vindafeil, the king of Aviarel, the winged elves, acts as the chairman of the assembly.

The herald of the assembly makes her appearance in the middle place of the round table. In her hand is a scroll with the writing of holy scriptures.

"Arbada, 14th of Sun's Crown, 10th year of the Fourth Age. The Third Grand Summit shall begin. Honourable lords and ladies, please stand up."

The delegates stood up.

"The Oath of Virtue will be taken. Participants are to take turns starting from the delegation of the Republic of Varnaria."

Soon after the procedure announcement, a priest approaches the delegates in their respective seats. He brings with him a golden chalice decorated with the ornament of a scale and an inscription of an elven word of the divine. Every delegate of each country slices their hand and fills the chalice with a few drops of their blood.

The priest uses the chalice for a rite to appease the divine. The blood concentrates into a single bead of crystal and then disperses before forming a circle of light on the wrist of the delegates. Hence begin the oath to the divine beings.

A haughty-looking man raises his hand up. The judging and sceptical look in his eyes was constantly thrown all over the place. His every gesture screams that he doesn't trust anyone in the room. Truly, a distinct view from his green-gold embroidered silks and velvets.

"In the name of Justicius, I, Rulow Landon of Varnaria, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."

On the contrary, next to the Varnarian delegate is a man who looks more like a war beast than an envoy. With his towering figure reaching two meters, the man clothed in scars and a black gambeson topped with a walrus skin as his cloak and headdress take the attention of even the butterflies in the room.

"Einst a namas os Fonseti, I, Baradin Sigmundsson os Hilverhold, swear meis allegians to a resulj os a Granda Summite."

The woman beside Baradin finds the man amusing. She bites her lower lips to pique his interest, albeit to no result. The man doesn't lose his focus, despite her russet-skinned charm. She then looked away to greet the gaze of others before raising her hand.

"In the name of Ala, I, Namira of Zarim, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."

The two delegates after Zarim are also of a distinct appearance from each other. From their skin tone to their attire and bijouteries, every bit of the two is unique to each other. The man exposes more of his skin, while the woman is an enveloped beauty. The man is adorned with finely crafted golden armbands and exotic diadem, while the woman wears an exquisite gown with silver-colored crane ornaments and flowers artisanship as her headdress.

"In the name of Hwan-Je ... I, Jun Yu-hwa of Yeon, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."

"In the nama of Damakala, I, Rajamada of Runawijaya, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."

The next is the nation in question regarding the whereabouts of Randia, along with the most powerful reign of the eastern land, beyond the waves of the great Bandau Ocean. A queen loved by her people, and an heir to the throne of Xin Empire.

"In the name of Justicia, I, Catalina Rosalia of Rosmayne, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."

"In the name of Huang Bao, I, Guan Xin of Xin, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."

After the Queendom of Rosmayne and Xin Empire, come the two most controversial delegates. The first one is a nation of mages that holds veneration towards magic as well as the most advanced in the said matter, which seldom creates a tense and interest on many sides of the map. The second one is a band of lawless characters with a flag that somehow have proved themselves a power to be reckoned with.

"In the name of Justicius, I, Thane Lightwood of Sindris, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit.

"In the name of Sea Mother Mututa, I, Emmanuel Valentino of Leadsea, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit.

Meanwhile, the latter ones are not to be taken lightly also. Each of them is a delegate of dominion with unique characteristics. A city-state that is the most adept in metalworks, and a theocracy that holds holy magic and pursues the divinations of the stars.

"In the name of Aestund, I, Godin Ironhand of Underpoint, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."

"In the name of Justicius, I, Sonya of Helden, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."

Finally, the last one to take the oath is the delegation of a reign that many believed to be the most powerful in Ersia. The expansionist empire that used every method to ensure their flag waves on every corner of the known world, The Empire of Aramia.

"In the name of Omzun, I, Nicholas Belsvan of Aramia, swear my allegiance to the result of the Grand Summit."