Iljian

*…Iljian closed the door of the lighthouse and yawned deeply. It was nice to be home again, even though he had spent only one night in Britain so far. The room at the inn there had been clean and pleasant enough, but it wasn’t near the sea and he had unconsciously missed the sounds of wind and waves too much to ever really relax and fall asleep. For nearly all of his life he had lived next to the sea and it had become a part of him by now. So he had snuck off from Britain with the excuse to check on the wellbeing of Trinsic – with the added benefit of being able to spend the night at home.

It had been a long day and by now, the sun was already going down. Climbing up in the tower, Iljian opened the windows to air the small rooms out and then ascended to the top in order to check on the light, which still shone dutifully. Beneath him, the bay and docks lay peacefully and quiet in the evening sun, as did those parts of the city that he could see from here. Seeing this it was hard to believe that elsewhere, people still fought bloody wars over completely uninteresting pieces of land and even entire towns.

The meeting of the so called world leaders had taken place today as part of the mood and while Iljian had been trying to keep an eye on the door, he had enjoyed the dubious benefit of being able to listen in to the debate… if it could be called that. Had he not been aware of the qualities of some of those “leaders” Iljian had most likely had another reason for being unable to sleep. With the exception of the Duke, all the other leaders that had assembled at the table were no nobles, but had been elected or chosen by other means. Some weren’t even anything at all, but just the highest ranked solders of some area or other. And, sad as it was, their tone and style suggested more the drill sergeant on the training grounds than the diplomat at a meeting. Large amounts of the debate were comparable to the late-night arguments in a (cheap) tavern and it was only the absence of ale that kept the people in question from utterly ridiculing themselves. What was lacked in sensible solutions and ideas was simply made up in insults and bragging.

Stunning, at least from those who should know better, was the lack of discipline as well. Especially the Yewish commander did not seem to have any control over the fellow accompanying him, despite the fact that he apparently outranked the other, who did nothing else but provoke and insult all other parties at the table. It had been vaguely amusing to see some of the attendants boast over the victory won at some crossroads when their population at home was fed in large parts by donations from Trinsic and the seemingly more frequent foraging and shopping expeditions conducted by the suffering populace itself. Apparently, a war could be waged in the name of a king who had never commanded it, had never known of it and would, according to his own words, never return to even hear of it. It amazed Iljian to no end how an absent monarch could still bind any loyalty to his person at all. It turned affairs into some sort of religion, making all try to guess the improvable will of an absent being while trying to gut those that stated equally improvable, but opposing views. The only result would be a continuation of suffering and slaughter, with no end or relief from the futility of it all. It was maddening, but as long as people like those he had seen today were in charge it was unlikely to change.

Still, there had been something resembling a result at the end of the meeting. A new road would be constructed from the yewish territory towards Minoc (not that there was anything wrong with the existing road, but it seemed absolutely necessary to build a new one rather than just find a way to make the usage of existing roads safe for all), allowing the citizens of Minoc to trade freely and fairly and to supply themselves with food and other necessities. In addition there was now meant to be a court consisting of judges from different towns in order to put three criminals to the trial that were apparently harboured by Cove. It had been a bit of a confusing topic and Iljian was not even sure what the crime had been. But there were agreements and a shaky ceasefire so maybe not all the hope was lost. Still, Iljian wished that there were more nobles still, the old kind from the sagas and stories; the kind that would be chivalrous and honourable, just and courageous. In the old tales it was all banners and heraldry, songs of glory and valour. Much nicer in any case than to watch a meeting of supposed world leaders descend into a tavern brawl worthy of the cheapest Vesperian wine sink.

Beyond him, the sun had sunk beneath the walls of Trinsic and the Dragons’ Hame far to the west and darkness fell around him, illuminated only by the gleaming light above him. Yawning deeply, Iljian stretched languidly before snuggling up in his favourite corner of the tower to wait and watch the nightly sea for a little while longer.

Only few days ago he had sat up here with Anna, but that had been before she had told him about the other, of course. Or rather, had not told him. Of course he knew who it had been that she was talking of, there had not been that many people to visit her in the cell and he had even found the blood on the bars, though he had assumed it to be an attempt at provoking the prisoner back then. But in the light of what she had told him now it was most likely him that she had bitten and the man had gotten away unquestioned and unchallenged. But that wasn’t even the worst; the worst was that she would not tell him. It had become a matter of principle then, no matter how much she tried to get him off the topic.

With a frown, Iljian turned to look back towards the silent town and then let his gaze sweep over towards the south, where the Duchy Tower rose beyond the bay. He had been leaning quite far over the walls in order to help her and more than once he had just about kept himself from loosing his footing. People had become upset and suspicious, the Duke had gotten angry and others thought that he had been bewitched or something silly. But he had tried to help, to do the right thing and now she repaid it by breaking everything that had been promised and expected. Instead of gratitude she had begun to complain, instead of working her punishment off she had taken the sum from the daemon-caller and meddler Kendra, with none knowing what the price of that “kindness” would eventually turn out to be. Instead of staying at the Duchy Tower and under Lord Ikus’ supervision she now lived in with that Reed person and instead of even trying to keep the thirst for blood under control she had just continued the way it had been beforehand. It wasn’t right and he was upset and the fact that she never even seemed to understand why upset him even more. It was frustrating.

With a sigh, Iljian rose from his seat and began to climb down the ladder, closing the trapdoor above him. Tomorrow would be the great market in Britain, which would make it another long and tiring day. After getting ready for bed, Iljian slipped under the covers and, lulled to sleep by the soft sounds of wind and waves, was soon dreaming of things that none but him would ever know about…*