Snippet #1791704

Valence and Everen

Delta. Home of the Clerical Council. The city of marble and pearls. Valence had never seen it before - he had spent most of his life traveling beyond the shelter of civilization, learning magics beyond the reach of those mages who were too frightened to risk their lives for it. He knew he was probably the only mage alive in Tane who had never seen Delta’s shining streets and towering, misty waterfalls. He did not mind it all that much – discovering such beauty late made it even more impressive to him, and today was an exceptionally beautiful day to be in Delta. The brilliant morning sun shone through the waterfall’s mists and cast the air to a heavenly, golden hue.

It was too bad that the city’s people did not reflect that mood. But then, that was why Valence had been called here, to meet for his first time with the mages of the Conclave. He would never have set foot in Delta if there were not some problem that needed solving.

Black robes swept around his ankles as he walked through the near-abandoned streets towards the center of the city. They worked well to conceal the burnished leather armor that marked him as a cross-class, but such garments could do nothing to hide the glimmering silver sword at his hip. What people walked the streets of Delta on this morning paused to stare as the bladed mage passed them, and Valence could only do his best to ignore them. He knew what they were thinking – no mage carried a sword. No mage was permitted it. That was a lie, of course, and he was a clear example of it… but that was what they thought nonetheless. And it made sense. Every class had its restrictions, to maintain balance between them. Valence was a Battlemage. That did not mean that he could fight with the prowess of a trained warrior, as well as use the spells of a mage. It simply meant he refused to be helpless if his magic failed him. Spells would always be his first choice of weapon.

Shaking his head slightly at the stupidity of the people who surrounded him, he turned a corner and found himself standing at the central square of Delta. He was not sure why they called it a square – it seemed very obviously a circle to him – but that did not particularly matter, in the end. These were simply stray thoughts, not pertaining to the matter at hand. He pushed through them and stared walking again, striding out through the nearly nonexistent crowd, crossing the “square” to enter the Lost Cause Tavern at the far end.

The Lost Cause was a different story entirely from the impossibly quiet streets of Delta. In the wake of the recent killings which had plagued the city, the people of Delta craved company, if only for the sake of being in a public place where they could not be knocked off without anybody seeing. From wall to wall the Inn was packed with people who drank and sang and laughed with the nervous desire to appear normal. Why the Council and the Conclave had chosen to have him come here, he did not know. They were intelligent people. Surely they realized just how packed the place would be.

No matter. What was done, was done.

Valence wove his way in amongst the people, seeking a gap at the back which would allow him to slip up the stairs to the private meeting rooms available only upon appointment. He had been assured by his messenger that he had an appointment. Pity the messenger if he was wrong.
He escaped the suffocating city crowd without much hindrance – few dared stop a mage with a face of purpose – and slipped up the stairs, down the hall, to the only open door. Beyond he found what he had least expected.

The Conclave had promised him that a representative from the Clerical Council would be waiting for him, and for the other adventurers who had been summoned to join together and save the city of Delta. He had never once suspected this representative would be a child. This cleric could be nothing else, with a delicate face and large, innocent eyes atop a body no larger than that of a ten-year-old girl. Were she not garbed in the white of a full-fledged cleric, a rank no child could reach, he would have been certain of it. But she did wear the robes, and there was no way she could be so young…

She looked up as he entered and stopped in the doorway, but she did not seem concerned by his abrupt pause. Rather, she came to her feet and swept across the floor to bow to him, one hand on her heart in the prayer of Zerval.

“Welcome,” she whispered, and Valence could not help but marvel at how happy she sounded to see him. “My name is Everen. You must be the mage, Valence Damacus?”

He could only numbly nod.