Chapter 43: Ch. 39: Welcome to Lysfall Part I

”By and large, I have never met people more studious than the Order of Vesper (Formerly the Brothers of Vesper). They are the most knowledgeable persons you’ll ever come across, pity their lack of social graces makes them off-putting at the best of times. Though, if you do happen to catch them on their best behaviour, they can rattle off a trove of knowledge so rich you’ll feel your mind stuffed like a good evening meal. These followers of the Vesper, the Lord of Mysteries will forever have my gratitude for their contribution and preservation of ancient Lore, else I wouldn’t be half the bard I was today.” from Saelethil Greatstrider’s Wanderlusts: Peoples and Places

---

“ Who are you and where did you come from?”Arthur asked, biting the inside of his cheek to dispel the pink colored thoughts in his mind. He winced as his draconic canines did just that. His awareness was immediately on guard and scoping the yard. He didn’t see any other way the sylvmaid could have used to make her way up the balcony.

“ Haha, profuse apologies and aven tidings dragontouched,” the female chortled with a bell-like sound. Her accent was hard to place, but he could swear she had a posh British accent, which tied up nicely with her good looks. It would not have been remiss if her British surname was Swift and her human twin sister was a popstar.

“ You might not be aware of its use, but there is an unobtrusive door in the alcove,” she added, tilting her head to the side.

“ Oh, aven tidings to you as well?” Arthur replied, unsure. His thoughts were a mess. “ There’s been a door in the strange alcove all along?”

“ That is so,” she chimed. They stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity before the sylvmaid sighed and put her hands on her hips. A smirk crinkled the edges of her lips.

“ Well?” she said. She had a sweet, lilting voice that sounded like nothing but mischief waiting to happen. She leaned in too close for comfort and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Well, what?” Arthur asked with a one-arched-eyebrow look as he stepped back. There was an almost magnetic pull to the sylvmaid that demanded his attention. It reminded him of the time Nora had charmed him. He shook his head, wondering what it was that she found amusing. Whatever reaction she seemed to be fishing for was not to be had because her smile dropped into an almost stoic facade.

“So you are truly dragontouched?” the sylvmaid remarked, squinting at Arthur with her faerie gaze.

‘Frag!’ “ Huh?” Arthur gawped. “ Hold on a se―kardion,” he said, correcting himself and snatching at one of his stray thoughts. “ Where is Nora?”

“ Hmm, is that the daywalker’s name?” she asked, pulling back and folding her hands across her bosom. She gave him a one-arched-eyebrow look of her own saying. “ She vowed silence until we ensured we had you tended to.”

‘Oh, Nora didn’t know,’ Arthur mulled. It dawned on him that it must have been his right hand that had sold him away. He’d been so used to covering it up with an arm sleeve that he felt exposed without it.

“ And these?” Arthur motioned, putting up his unasked for accessories. They tingled and made his skin crawl. Was it normal that he felt an urge to claw them off like a collared animal?

“Mage-binders. You caused a magical discharge on par with an artillery spell; we had to take precautions you see ,” she said. For the first time, her expression was serious.

“And I assure you, you’re not a prisoner,” she added, walking around him with feline grace as though she was prodding him for weakness. Arthur shuffled to keep her in his line of sight.

“And where is she?” Arthur inquired, frowning. She had paused to lean against the balustrade.

“Worry not, your companion has not been harmed,” she said, pursing her bow shaped lips. “ We had to confine her until we ascertained that you were not her thrall. Did you know that blood magic could be used for slavery?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Arthur said suddenly, wary of where that conversation was going.

“Nothing of consequence,” the slyvmaid said, giving a wobbly wave. “But first, there are a host of questions we would like to ask you.”

Arthur glowered and shook his head tiredly. Being under people’s thumbs and on the low end of power dynamics was frustrating. He’d had enough of being bossed around, letting people walk all over him, and having his stuff taken to be used as leverage.

“Is something the matter?” the sylvmaid asked, peering at him from beneath hooded eyes. Her long lashes were the same minty colour as her hair. “Are the accommodations not to your liking?”

“I bet there is a catch to all of this,” Arthur inquired, throwing up his arms.“Are you going to hold the fact that I am dragontouched against me? Or use Nora as leverage ? My artefacts and gear perhaps?” he sneered.

“You must be mistaken, dragontouched. Why would we do such a thing?” The sylvmaid said, with a look of complete bafflement.

“Don’t play coy with me sylvani,” Arthur said, advancing on the sylvmaid. “Just name your price; I do not have the time to play charades.”

The sylvmaid pushed her weight off the railing and crossed her arms as she worried her lips in thought.

“You truly misunderstand . Whatever preconceptions you might have of us are misplaced. On my word, we would wish to make amends if any of our people have wronged you,” she said. She looked genuinely honest. Arthur wished that Nora was there with him; only the dhampir could tell whether someone was lying or not.

“I don’t know whether to take you at your word or not,” Arthur said, deflating with a sigh. It was hard to stay angry at the sylvmaid when she had the looks , the smiles and the inflections going for her.

The youth tousled his hair in exasperation as he stared somewhere past the slyvmaid’s shoulder. There were giant arches in the distance and silhouettes of what he thought were oddly shaped pillars or dead trees bereft of their branches. He couldn’t tell from this far.

“I shall only take you at your word if Nora is returned to me. Without her, I cannot separate prevarications from truth,” Arthur said.

“Very well then. On my word, it shall be done. Ere the morrow wanes , you shall see your companion,” the sylvmaid said, bringing her hand to her breast. “Is there anything else?”

“Huh? That’s it?” Arthur sputtered.

The sylvmaid tilted their head to the side and said, “If you are yet beholden to doubt I can hail the Mother Grove as you watch.”

“Mother Grove?” Arthur asked. ’ That is not telling me anything,’ Arthur wanted to add.

But the sylvmaid had already brought her hand to the brooch-like badge on her breast. The badge pulsed and Arthur’s eyes went round as she spoke into it.

“[Mage Scout] Szephia requesting passage for a charge under my custody.”

“Acknowledged [Mage Scout], what is your charge’s tier of privilege?” Said a male voice with the boredom of someone working at a call centre. It was hitting too close to science fiction levels of familiarity.

“ Diplomatic tier with a pending Vouch of Identity; extenuating circumstances ,” she curtly replied.

“Ah―Mage Scout Szephia,” the voice on the other end seemed to perk up in realisation. “Acknowledged, diplomatic tier escort shall be availed post-haste, forwarding the request to the [Arbour Sentinel].”

“That will be all,”she said. The badge winked out soon after, and the sylvmaid turned to Arthur, “Is that to your satisfaction?”

“What in the blue was that?” Arthur inquired. ‘No, focus!’ “What about my artefacts?”

“Hmm? For the time being we are holding onto them ,” the slyvmaid said. “They shall be released contingent on the kind of information you shall provide us. As for your clothing; I shall have it delivered to your suite after this, with the enchanted bag of course.”

“Fine then,” Arthur said. The mage-binders had also bound his ability to retrieve anything from [Inventory Chest].

“I assume you shall be amiable for an interview on pertinent issues ?” she asked, grinning.

“Is that part of your job?” Arthur asked.

“It is,” the sylvmaid replied.

“ All right, “ Arthur said, giving the slyvmaid a sidelong glance. “And what’s that all about, dragontouched I mean? How do you even know? Inspection skills?”

“Not at all,” Szephia said. “Faerieborn and dragontouched have a preternatural intuition to recognise one another,” she winked.

“ Really?” Arthur snorted. The sylvmaid gave him a deadpan look. Arthur did not know whether she was being sarcastic or not.

“Right,if that is all, I’ll be seeing myself inside,” he added, thumbing in the direction of the residence. He wanted to get away from her before her aura made him a goof.

“Then let me be the first to welcome you to Lysfall. I am [Mage Scout] Szephia,” she said, giving him a sylvani salute. “An attache shall attend to you with your personal effects shortly and guide you from here on out.”

“Erm, thank you? The pleasure is all mine. Call me Arthur,” Arthur replied with a polite, if uneasy smile.

---

Arthur saw off the sylvmaid the same way she’d come in. The alcove had been a door that retracted, sliding around its circumference like the other tambour doors in the house.

Beyond the door was another porch. It led to a short truss walkway of woven branches joining the diamond shaped hollow of the main trunk. The sounds of people echoed from beyond as the sylvmaid made her way out. For a moment, Arthur stayed by the porch until she disappeared out of sight and then shut the door.

As he slid against the door, Arthur released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Beads of cold sweat dripped down his back as he suppressed unintentional shudders at the thought that she might have had him wrapped around her finger.

The memory of meeting the sylvmaid latched into his mind with dogged abandon as thoughts of her consumed him like an unquenchable fire. Her faerie-like features, the mint coloured hair, and the multihued irises played in his mind on repeat. He most definitely did not look at her rear while she walked across the walkway.

‘Damn, focus,’ he thought as his cheeks burned. The fact that she put him at ease even though she was a stranger still unsettled him. And the fact that she knew—that was worse.

Alone and less on edge, his mind wandered to the last thing he recalled. The memory of the occurrence gave him pause. He shivered; the sensation of a thousand needles searing his nerves as the mana was purged from his system had not been pleasant. And then there were messages from his sister.

The last time stamps all led up to the day he presumed to have arrived on Eryth. Rather than answers, the messages raised more questions. There was still a gap of memories missing between boarding the plane and his arrival on Eryth. That, or it might have happened in his sleep. Scouring through the phone gallery gave him an inkling of what his sister looked like, but nothing beyond the fact that he also had an uncle.

However, locked out of his magic, he could not retrieve his phone from [Inventory Chest] to test the veracity of his [Eidetic Memory]. He needed something he could sink his teeth into and stop the runaway train of thoughts that met dead ends.

Rather than spend time agonising over the implications, Arthur looked around his accommodations to see what he might have missed. There had to be some sort of surveillance around, and he hated surprises.

Despite pacing around the ambassadorial suite, no epiphany or catharsis was revealed to him nor were there any ‘bugs’ he could find. In hindsight, if they were concealed or made of magic, he wouldn’t have found them either way.

Nonetheless, he realised that the living room was dome shaped like the rest of the rooms. Two more doors were positioned besides his bedroom door. Another door to the left of the spiral staircase peeked into a kitchen, while the spiral staircase following the room’s curvature led to a library in a loft.

The three bedrooms were all en suite with similar amenities, including closets and floating beds and dressers. The closets had robes and shirts with flowing sleeves and cross-front seams like kimonos and the shitagi undershirt that he wore. He saved the library in the loft and the kitchen for later and went to freshen up.

Nonetheless, what he didn’t see coming was the cosmetic changes to his hair. He spent a few moments staring at the cosmetic overhaul his hair had undergone. His auburn hair, which had transitioned into auburn with grey streaks after his first awakening, had gone silver and white.

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He had to contend with its new frizzy texture that stayed adamant despite how many times he tried to tame it. Arthur supposed that, on the brighter side, he’d no longer need to comb it. Also, it seemed that Sylvani did not have grooming implements geared towards cutting hair. Either they were hairless or―

‘Yeah, not thinking about that. At least my scales didn’t change,’ he groaned, blowing bubbles as he let himself soak in the warm bathtub. Rather than enchant the bowl shaped bathtub of petrified wood, they had artifices for warm and cold water.

Arthur had to admit that keeping with the hobbit-esque architecture of dome shaped rooms and lunette ceiling vaults made for a very cosy suite. They even had plumbing with bidets and running water, and scented soap that looked like a sea sponge.

Feeling less grungy also clarified Arthur’s mind and melted away some of his anxiety. With some groundedness he mulled over his immediate concerns. After what had transpired, shoving things under the rug with Nora seemed like a bad mistake. He was going to owe the dhampir an explanation and perhaps some bits of truth for putting her in the line of fire. And also, he didn’t like the surprises his new physiology was giving him.

In that same vein, the [Mage Scout] had spoken of the dragontouched as if they might be a common enough existence that someone would know about. Also, he needed to be up to date on things like maps and contemporary events. He'd had enough of being blindsided by ignorance.

‘Might be worth staying around for a while just for information,’ he thought. A windchime tinkled through the house alerting him that someone was at the door. He made his way to the living room after drying himself off and donning the sylvani lounging robes that had the appearance of kimonos.

And sure enough, as Szephia had mentioned, there was an attaché at the door. He too was wearing the male version of the watch uniform with the very same communication artefact pinned to his cuirass but in silver. In his hands, he held Arthur’s bag of holding.

“Aven tidings, Master Arthur?” he saluted, giving Arthur a sceptical once over. Arthur leaned against the threshold with a questioning look.

“I hope you would not take offence for coming on short notice,” the sylvani seemed to hesitate at his frown. “Galaeron is my name, I am the [Watch Ranger] assigned to be your liason,” he grinned in what he assumed to be an easygoing manner.

The Sylvani had almost effeminate features and was young given his stature. His eyes were aquamarine while his wheat-blonde hair was braided into a ponytail. He was generally starry-eyed and had a peppy disposition, like most teenagers.

Arthur gave him a one-arched-brow look,“Well, aven tidings to you [Watch Ranger]. I am not offended, seeing as you brought my luggage…and food?” he remarked, looking askance at a wicker basket he had carried in his other hand. Arthur stepped back to let the sylvani into the room and then shut the door behind him.

“[Mage Scout] Szephia made it known that I would be your liason for the duration of your stay,” Galaeron said, setting the wicker basket on the table. “So I took the liberty of appropriating the local fare for your eve repast.”

“Hmm, much obliged [Watch Ranger],” Arthur said. “Would you mind lobbing the spatial knapsack at me?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Galaeron said. But he definitely did not lob Arthur’s knapsack at him.

---

The only things he’d put in the knapsack were his clothes and nothing else.

'Thank goodness I stored the journals elsewhere,’ Arthur thought. He did not fancy someone going through his things, even if they were just doing their jobs. He took stock of whatever else was left in the knapsack and pegged whatever was missing as confiscated.

For the evening, he picked a pair of steelsilk denim in charcoal grey. He topped it with a sylvani half-collar tunic in burgundy. It had cross seams going from the left shoulder and was secured on the right side of his torso with two pairs of hook and bar fasteners. Feeling conscious about his scaly arm, he’d preferred the long sleeved shirts. It seemed they’d even confiscated his arm sleeve, counting it as a weapon.

Forgoing the shoes, Arthur walked around in socks because the floors seemed to magically stay clean. For the second time running, he was unsurprised that his hoverboard was missing.

Stepping into the living room, he saw that the Sylvani attaché had already set the table with mouth-watering food.

“Your evening repast is jackalope sauteed with mushrooms and Suliani fried oryza.” he said. “ It is accompanied by toasted barley and honey tea and was prepared by The Dryad's Fare, a well known establishment famous for catering to Sylvani cuisine.”

“Much obliged?” Arthur nodded, keeping the surprise off his face. ‘That’s rice,’ he thought as he took a seat. The brown cereal had a tantalising aroma and pleasant garnishes, while the sauteed jackalope and mushrooms were a thick stew in a pouring bowl. The utensils were all petrified wood, like ceramic, black with brown grains, which included the spork and the knife. The chopsticks almost evoked a raised brow from him but he quickly schooled his expression.

As for the barley tea, it was amber as seen through the glass and smelled like roast nuts. It was mildly sweet, bitter and nutty and Arthur could attest that it tasted great while cold. The sauteed stew and pieces of meat crumbled easily under the spork and if he could say so himself, the oryza had been properly steamed.

He never realised that he'd been so hungry until he dug in halfway.

“Ranger Galaeron, are you content to just wait on me?” Arthur said as he partook of the tea. “Is that part of your job description as an attaché?”

“From time to time, younger rangers serve as diplomatic attachés,” he said. “I assume that refers to this job description you speak of.”

“Hmm, where does [Mage Scout] Szephia stand in the hierarchy?” Arthur asked.

“ [Mage Scout] Szephia’s rank is outside of the Weald Watch’s conventional hierarchy but has equivalent authority to a [Weald Warden] or [Grove Warden]. She also reports directly to the Arbour Court and therefore operates outside the purview of an [Arbour Sentinel] unless of course under special circumstances.”

“Is that because she’s faerieborn?” Arthur asked, piqued.

“Among other factors I am not at liberty to disclose Master Arthur,” he remarked goodheartedly. “ I see that you have taken a liking to the oryza. It is an imported staple from the Traunesian Islanders. Our sun-cousins also cultivate it.”

“Is that so?” Arthur commented as he wiped off the last of the food in his bowl. There was still some food left in the wicker basket, however. It looked like something from a takeout delivery.

“Pray tell, who is in charge of the city of Lysfall?” Arthur asked, staring towards the patio-side curtains.

“Why, the Arbour Court, of course,” Galaeron said. “[Matriarch] Selessia sits at its helm―”

He was asking that so he would not commit a faux-pas in aesylvani etiquette. His readings did not go beyond salutations, despite studying a bit of the language.

Mainline Sylvani was like French with quite a bit of gender neutral pronouns and like Finnish with its verb conjugation, case system, clitics, and consonant gradation. Throwing in the musical cadence of its Illvari roots and minding their Suliani, Snjórani and Selvenari cousins made it a difficult language to learn.

Arthur drank the rest of the barley tea as he contemplated his next course of action. His gaze seemed to be stuck on the strange contraption with glowing liquid characters like a lava lamp. He realised he'd been staring at a sylvani horolodial

“Did [Mage Scout] Szephia speak of tomorrow’s plans?” Arthur asked.

“Ah yes, of course,” Galaeron said, as he intuited that Arthur was done eating. “I am to accompany you to Lysfall’s Mother Grove at dawn break. Also, I may have forgotten to mention that there are also summons from the Crafter’s Grove.”

Arthur bit back a wince.

“Did they mention the reasons for said summons?” Arthur asked. The [Watch Ranger] seemed to hesitate before he answered.

“I am afraid not, Master Arthur. I can only speculate,” Galaeron remarked with a wry grimace as if he’d failed at his job. The sylvani started putting away the dishes; the wicker basket had a pull out compartment for putting away used utensils.

“And?”

“Hmm,” he seemed to contemplate and then came to a realisation, “I suppose they are interested in your artefacts,” Galaeron said excitedly. “Are you an [Artificer] or [Enchanter] perchance?”

‘Of course,’ “After a fashion,” Arthur sighed as he repressed a facepalm.

“Rarely anything kicks up such a furore in the Crafter's Grove Master Arthur,” Galaeron said, voice almost climbing an octave before he came to himself. Clearing his throat he added, “Lysfall Crafter's Grove is famous for both arcane and mundane crafts in Lysfall and other cities. The most famous are self tending dwellings.”

“Self tending?” Arthur inquired.

“Aye,” Galaeron nodded profusely. “Dwellings that use the nascent tree spirits to work artifices―”

‘Tree spirits?’ Arthur had a sudden urge to whirl about looking for a metaphorical ghost who might have been the ‘magical bug’ eavesdropping on him.

“It is said that the Mother Grove is run by a nymph and is one of the oldest places in all of Lysfall,” Galaeron added.

“Ah—Forgive my saying this, but as it has been on short notice, I would wish to take my leave to make ready the itinerary. There is much quill work to be done,” the sylvani said, frowning at the horolodial. “I was meant to show you how the artifices work. Please follow me.”

“By all means. Lead the way,” Arthur motioned.

The Watch Ranger led Arthur on a brief circuit of the residence. The Sylvani called their geodome eco buildings ildsteds, which meant hearth nest.

The kitchen walls curved with the walls forming a U-shaped layout with a large oval window to the outside. It had a woody minimalist feel to it with ceramic accents everywhere, from the kitchen countertop, kitchen implements to jars and tupperware.

Ingredients were stowed away in compartments with tambour slides that even a hearth nest’s spirit could open. The best part of it all was that they even had sugar! And loads of the stuff; trust the sylvani to know their stuff where plants were concerned.

The countertop was the same petrified wood the sylvani seemed to prefer for ceramics. Seeing as they were in an igloo-like dwelling that was basically part of a tree, there were no open heat sources.

Heat was provided by a smooth, black and enchanted rock like a hot plate. It was on a standalone countertop, separated by grooves so that the sides were not really touching the sides. There was a cold chest for food and beverage storage. Most Sylvani liked half their tea cold, or so his attache said. The sink was a bowl shaped recess with the same water artifices he'd seen in the bathroom, so that was self-explanatory.

Overall, his accommodations were typical of Sylvani hearth nests with the exception that their house spirit was almost non-existent. Most diplomatic residences did not have active tree spirits because having a hearth nest was to bond oneself to the spirit. It was an equivalent contract of mana to nurture the spirit in exchange for the conveniences of hearth and home.

What he had access to was the house’s magic, which powered the lights and drew the curtains. Other functions, like cleaning and interior heating were self regulatory; It was akin to an organic smart home.

“I hope that will be all. There is only so much time to show you the convenience of the residence―” Galaeron said as they led to the living room.

“It is fine really. They are not so difficult to use these artifices of yours,” Arthur said,

“Very well then, I bid you a pleasant night til the morn’s rise,” he added. The horolodial showed he had four quartz before midnight.

“A pleasant night to you as well,” Arthur nodded. Despite sleeping for an indeterminate amount of time, he thought about turning in early . Unconsciousness did not count as sleeping time.

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