Heleion Archives

17th of November, 112 of NDE. Elatontos Province, South-Western Arghyria.

            The province of Elatontos was a vast plain that at the end of autumn changed into a varied shapes of golden and red. This province was also where the Electri river flowed through with all the major cities built on its twisting banks.

One such city was the martial city of Stobi – named after its founder, an agrorh dwarf who excelled at shaping the stones native to the country. Its walls and buildings followed the same white marble style that was associated with all Arghyrian cities. Pristine smooth walls, statues depicting various races in ancient Arghyrian garbs or armors and so on so forth.

Stobi itself started out as a large fortress on the nearby hill on the west bank of the river. First homes for the stationed legionaries were built around it in at least two districts during the First Crusade, then last four districts were built in the following centuries that often got razed during the Second Crusade.

The latest addition that was built fifteen centuries ago was the harbor which housed the naval vassals. To an extent it existed even before, it was just the home for fisher folk for a long while before the Imperial family decided to establish a naval checkpoint at Stobi too. And recently it became the center point from which they sent down ships to the recently acquired colony of Orhmedia down far south of Heleion.

The city itself remained in the control of the founder’s family even after eons, with its current ruler being General Hostias, a stout agrorh dwarf with emerald skin with a luster akin to finely crafted metals. He also sported a dark shaggy hair that already started receding in the center of his head while his beard remained thick and ornamented with golden rings engraved with dwarven runes that kept his mind fresh – so that he needed not much sleep and could focus on his work.

Especially as currently he was assigned Consul of the Orhmedia Colony where rogue elements started showing themselves hoping to free their newly found country from the clutches of the Arghyrian Republic. His 8th Republican Legion and the Radiant Daughters of Myelia kept peace for the most part and only apprehended those who were found infiltrating republican institutions to reform the locals to Arghyrian standards so to speak.

“What a fine night.” Hostias said with his thick central dwarven accent as he drank the finest of Arghyrian vines while watching the moon light bathed garden of his family estate from the balcony.

“It certainly is darling.” Calacil – his star elven mistress – said while her soft, warm hands gently massaged his aching shoulders. Calacil was blessed with a pale complexion with a tinge of light violet, her eyes similarly glowed in a violet hue while her midnight blue hair were bundled into a large bouffant updo that was decorated with ebony ornaments engraved with amethysts crystals. Her slender, voluptuous body was wrapped in the finest of arghyrian silks in a deep mauve hue and dark laurel trims and frames.

“Almost makes me regret that I have to travel down to the south.” He added annoying himself further while gulping down a heartful of the wine.

“Do you really have to go down?” Calacil asked as the two’s lips locked together for a passing moment.

Hostias sighed as a tender headache reared itself. “I’m afraid so darling. My sister is no longer the same, trustworthy sibling she was once.”

“Is she? Was she ever not so vain?” Calacil asked as she just recently – two decades ago to be precise – started a relationship with Hostias.

“Not always. Even when she joined the Radiant Daughters, she was someone I could one-hundred percent could have relied on in matters of state.” Hostias reminisced of the olden days when his sister served as his right hand man when it came to managing their territories – including the occupied ones during the Great War. The two have fought together on the north-western front which extended into Grauburgian lands in the first four years of the war.

“I’m afraid she got in with a bad lot just four decades before we met. Ever since then she wanted to manage things on her own. And after losing one of her close friends to an assassin she started ruling occupied lands with an iron hand.” Hostias chuckled a little as he uttered the last few words.

“Haven’t you tried to speak with her?” Calacil asked while pouring the last of the bottle out into their ornated glasses with golden jewel engraved frames.

“I tried. But ever since then she hasn’t listened to a word my mouth uttered.” Hostias sighed as he came to a single conclusion that may solve this and the colonial issues that plagued his mind for the past few weeks since he read the reports. “I’m afraid I’ll have to revoke her Consul title and recommend her to some provincial duty.”

“That is a good choice darling. Maybe her mind will ease amongst her people.” Calacil said as she gently caressed his receding hairline.

Their glasses tolled. “Then let’s celebrate this good decision.” Then Calacil diverted the chatter to more positive topics. Not long before the two noticed the gaping wine bottle and Hostias offered to bring a fresh batch – even though Calacil told him numerous times to rely more on the servants for matters like these.

**

Hostias’s rhythmic whistle echoed through the vast and empty corridors as he glided across the long and twisting red carpet that blanketed the center of the white and black hexagonal marble floor. A few times he stopped when he noticed his bare feet stepping onto the hem of his white and ruby red long toga – long at least for dwarven sizes.

He enjoyed these lonely strolls through the vast mansion. For one part because his days since his promotion had been loud – so to speak – for someone like him who enjoyed the calm silence the night offered. Even though he enjoyed the occasional kinship other’s offered like his current mistress Calacil.

The other part was the breathtaking view reflected in each window that looked at the city not far below. He stopped at each to take in the still awake city blanketed in moonlight that melded with the warm lights escaping through the myriad windows. It was a calming sight to him.

“Now, where was that damn wine.” He hurried up a bit when he reached the wine cellar that took up a considerable amount of space – while also having space enchantments woven into the finely hewn murky stones that made up its walls. Another small reason he also preferred fetching wine for himself was his own paranoia. It was a common thing for assassins and spies to disguise themselves as servants and then when their lords or ladies desired a fine beverage, they would poison it. He lost quite a few foolish friends in this way, so he preferred to buy and fetch it himself.

He joyfully snorted as soon as he laid eyes open the fine glass that contained the sweet, silky wine. “Ah I got ya.”

**

“Darling excuse me but it took a bit longer to find it. We should really put it a bit closer to the entrance.” He whispered the last part to himself after panting a bit as he realized that it took almost an hour for him to return with the wine. Yet when he opened the door to his bedroom that also served as his office – silence answered him.

“Darling? Maybe she is sleeping.” He said to himself quickly turning down his own volume while tip toeing out to the balcony. There he confirmed to himself that Calacil probably got tired after the second bottle got finished.

“Just one more glass then.” He muttered as he popped open the bottle. The flowing of the wine was music to his ears and the remainder of his negative thoughts regarding his sister and the colony evaporated.

“Gosh, that’s the stuff.”  He moaned as the sweet taste of the wine spread in his mouth as it traversed towards his throat, then down to his belly. Just as he poured the second glass for himself, he started picking up on a faint noise coming from his bedroom.

He held out his right hand into which a large wooden framed wand pistol appeared – something he used ever since his service in the Colonial Wars of Eoran a hundred or so years ago. With small steps he approached the towering, ornated oaken doors and slowly opened one side to peek inside.

“Rrn, hhmrm nh r hrmh nnhnnm mm mrrhh!” As soon as he peeked inside, he noticed Calacil bound to one of the padded dark oaken chairs with golden sealing tape covering her torso. Her arms rested on the chair’s with seven layers binding them together. Similarly her ankles were secured to the chair’s legs while her thighs were hidden under copious amounts of golden sealing tape gleaming under the filtered moon light. Two wide strips sealed her pretty mouth and eyes - preventing her from seeing or speaking.

“Shit darling. Keep tight I’ll free you in a second.” Hostias said as he carefully surveilled the soft shadow covered surroundings while walking closer and closer to her. Then within two steps from her – he heard a soft clicking and turned around only to see a single spherical object emit a transparent shockwave that smothered his few arcane points.

As Calacil’s muffled moans turned to groans – sweet scented sweat appeared on her smooth pale violet skin in tandem with arcane blue veins while light shone through the wide strip of tape covering her eyes.

“Shit!” Hostias muttered his last word as he looked back at her – then a roar akin to the bellows of dragons followed as golden flames spread and destroyed the mansion, sending burning debris to all directions of the compass.