Timestamp: 88th Day of Autumn, 514 A.V.
Ah, the snow.
It lay lightly, oh so lightly, on Lhavit, a glittering mantle that lay over everything, reflecting scintillating light from the skyglass and turning an otherwise-dull and overcast day – the sky louring with fat, pregnant snowclouds – into a brightly-lit fantasy.
Elysium Hall, even amongst that, was a bright spot to rival the Towers, seated as it was amid a sweep of brilliant white, undisturbed snow that was, in other seasons, its parkland. It acted as a magnifier for the gentle glow of the skyglass, turning the Hall into a burning jewel and beacon through the gently-falling snow.
The tumbling flakes, coming down in a leisurely fall that showed no signs whatever of stopping, softened and deadened the sounds of the city, made it feel oddly distant and surreal, not really there. Elysium Hall was an eden of warmth and comfort standing firm against the swirling snow, and Alses, ensconced in an armchair by a blazing fire in her library, was very glad to be inside and deliciously warm.
It was late afternoon – well, not actually all that late, really, but the shortening days meant that darkness came on the mountain city earlier and earlier, and in Alses’ book any time shortly before the onset of night was ‘late’. She’d finished her paperwork and approvals for the next day, all the work that the Radiant Tower tended to send her home with; they stood in ordered ranks on her desk, all neatly tied around with weighted white-and-gold ribbons, ready to be stacked in her cases for the Department’s small force of scribes and clerks to work through and actually action the proposals she’d authorised.
Nothing particularly controversial, this time around – Autumn, she’d decided, would be a time of reconciliation, of low-key events and consolidation of her department. She’d made a splash with the Third Law; now it was most definitely the time to see what the ripples stirred up, and to prepare her office for…consequences.
That was what had been behind her flow-chart, her reorganization plan that would rationalise the still-new and still very much ad-hoc Department of Magic. Foreign Affairs had rather fallen by the wayside; the remote nature of Lhavit had made that side of her responsibilities very much an adjunct to the magical side of things.
Alses had plans involving that, of course – as she had plans for most things – but for now she was happy to focus on getting the substantial and powerful magical community of Lhavit on-side. Sometimes, it was rather like an uphill struggle, but there were…compensations.
Relaxing by her roaring fire, with a good book in her hands and warmed clear through to the bone, Alses was supremely content. Indeed, she only vaguely registered the muffled boom of someone knocking on the doors of the Hall. She’d very quickly gotten used to the idea that something so mundane as answering her own front door was the preserve of the butler, who – with a few exceptions, that she’d outlined to the man – would then carefully ascertain whether she actually wanted to speak to the caller or not.
Her mind freewheeled idly until Alses was broken from her reverie by the mellifluous tones of Silver and the click of the library doors.
“Lady Lheili Dawn to see you, your grace,” he said quietly, courteously escorting the woman to Alses’ vicinity. She was one of the exceptions; Silver knew the drill, by now, and simply let her straight in. “Would you care for some tea and biscuits?”
That was another thing – since Silver had been in her employ, the usually-empty larder and pantry of the Hall, quite without any instructions being given, had discreetly filled up with fine teas, elegant china and the more hard-wearing (but still delicious) examples of the baker’s and confectioner’s art.
Not that Alses was complaining, as such – it was just a little disconcerting to see food and drink that she hadn’t personally bought, or ever even thought about buying, appear.
In reply to Silver, standing dependably by and waiting for an answer, she quirked an eyebrow at Lheili, even as she waved her friend into a chair that was the twin of Alses’ own. “Well, Lheili?”
With a bright – if cold – smile and a certain touch of surprise dancing through her aura, Lheili answered in the affirmative. “I’d love a pot of tea to warm me up,” she replied. “It’s beautiful out there, but my word is it cold! I’m still used to Summer, I think.”
Silver smiled slightly and essayed a small half-bow. “Very good, m’lady,” he murmured and shimmered off, the click of the doors closing behind him almost inaudible.
For her part, Alses straightened up slightly from her comfortable slump and tried to get her brain into gear – a difficult proposition, as it happened. “Pleasure to see you, as always, Lheili,” she muttered, twisting to get comfortable after her change of position. “Chiona not with you?”
Ah, the snow.
It lay lightly, oh so lightly, on Lhavit, a glittering mantle that lay over everything, reflecting scintillating light from the skyglass and turning an otherwise-dull and overcast day – the sky louring with fat, pregnant snowclouds – into a brightly-lit fantasy.
Elysium Hall, even amongst that, was a bright spot to rival the Towers, seated as it was amid a sweep of brilliant white, undisturbed snow that was, in other seasons, its parkland. It acted as a magnifier for the gentle glow of the skyglass, turning the Hall into a burning jewel and beacon through the gently-falling snow.
The tumbling flakes, coming down in a leisurely fall that showed no signs whatever of stopping, softened and deadened the sounds of the city, made it feel oddly distant and surreal, not really there. Elysium Hall was an eden of warmth and comfort standing firm against the swirling snow, and Alses, ensconced in an armchair by a blazing fire in her library, was very glad to be inside and deliciously warm.
It was late afternoon – well, not actually all that late, really, but the shortening days meant that darkness came on the mountain city earlier and earlier, and in Alses’ book any time shortly before the onset of night was ‘late’. She’d finished her paperwork and approvals for the next day, all the work that the Radiant Tower tended to send her home with; they stood in ordered ranks on her desk, all neatly tied around with weighted white-and-gold ribbons, ready to be stacked in her cases for the Department’s small force of scribes and clerks to work through and actually action the proposals she’d authorised.
Nothing particularly controversial, this time around – Autumn, she’d decided, would be a time of reconciliation, of low-key events and consolidation of her department. She’d made a splash with the Third Law; now it was most definitely the time to see what the ripples stirred up, and to prepare her office for…consequences.
That was what had been behind her flow-chart, her reorganization plan that would rationalise the still-new and still very much ad-hoc Department of Magic. Foreign Affairs had rather fallen by the wayside; the remote nature of Lhavit had made that side of her responsibilities very much an adjunct to the magical side of things.
Alses had plans involving that, of course – as she had plans for most things – but for now she was happy to focus on getting the substantial and powerful magical community of Lhavit on-side. Sometimes, it was rather like an uphill struggle, but there were…compensations.
Relaxing by her roaring fire, with a good book in her hands and warmed clear through to the bone, Alses was supremely content. Indeed, she only vaguely registered the muffled boom of someone knocking on the doors of the Hall. She’d very quickly gotten used to the idea that something so mundane as answering her own front door was the preserve of the butler, who – with a few exceptions, that she’d outlined to the man – would then carefully ascertain whether she actually wanted to speak to the caller or not.
Her mind freewheeled idly until Alses was broken from her reverie by the mellifluous tones of Silver and the click of the library doors.
“Lady Lheili Dawn to see you, your grace,” he said quietly, courteously escorting the woman to Alses’ vicinity. She was one of the exceptions; Silver knew the drill, by now, and simply let her straight in. “Would you care for some tea and biscuits?”
That was another thing – since Silver had been in her employ, the usually-empty larder and pantry of the Hall, quite without any instructions being given, had discreetly filled up with fine teas, elegant china and the more hard-wearing (but still delicious) examples of the baker’s and confectioner’s art.
Not that Alses was complaining, as such – it was just a little disconcerting to see food and drink that she hadn’t personally bought, or ever even thought about buying, appear.
In reply to Silver, standing dependably by and waiting for an answer, she quirked an eyebrow at Lheili, even as she waved her friend into a chair that was the twin of Alses’ own. “Well, Lheili?”
With a bright – if cold – smile and a certain touch of surprise dancing through her aura, Lheili answered in the affirmative. “I’d love a pot of tea to warm me up,” she replied. “It’s beautiful out there, but my word is it cold! I’m still used to Summer, I think.”
Silver smiled slightly and essayed a small half-bow. “Very good, m’lady,” he murmured and shimmered off, the click of the doors closing behind him almost inaudible.
For her part, Alses straightened up slightly from her comfortable slump and tried to get her brain into gear – a difficult proposition, as it happened. “Pleasure to see you, as always, Lheili,” she muttered, twisting to get comfortable after her change of position. “Chiona not with you?”
