ꙮ As it transpires, it’s not a proper amphitheatre unless the seats surround the central stage on all sides; the Palimpsest-King’s central court is built into a hillside, with rows of seating looking down onto a central stage where the Palimpsest-King sits. He’s not, -actually-, rooted there; he can get up and move around. But he likes being there, where people can see him, know that there’s someone who will always be there to listen and arbitrate. ⁂
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- Aurelius
- The Awoken
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← Active ScenesThe Palimpsest-King's Court, I
#ck
#pal-king
ꙮ He’d sent a message to the Courtyard Sinks Inn, asking for the Clockwork-Knight to come see him, if they had a moment, upon their return to the Courtyard. Certainly phrased as a request, not as a demand, even by the King’s standards of tending to request rather than demand.
dons their blue coat, and puts away their carving tools, taking a swift to the Courtyard. They dismount and walk to the amphitheatre.
: “You have called for me, Palimpsest-King? What service might I provide?”
is, as it happens, in the middle of a -very- animated argument between two irate fox-eared merchants whose tails are lashing and their ears are wiggling and, slowly, over time, as the Clockwork-Knight waits, overhearing little snatches of - some kind of trade dispute over the quality of someone’s copper, apparently - both of their ears go down, and their tails stop lashing, and eventually they shake hands and walk away to go hammer out a few more details of whatever transpired. His branches adjust themselves, slightly; wind rustles through the bristlecone-pine. “Ahh. Satisfying an old tree’s curiosity, if that counts as an act of service, and I would say it does.” A pause. The two of them are alone, in the Court. “Tell me about your homeland, traveler. Are there trees, there?”
: “Yes, but, not like the trees here. Our world does not…flourish as yours does. Our world churns and burns. Our trees are far sparser, paler, thinner. But their strength is no lesser. The Beast is not kind to things that are not strong.”
listens, curiously. “They would have to be strong trees, to thrive nonetheless in such a place. It would be nice to meet them, some day.” Branches rustle. “But none like our Spoken Wood, I assume?”
: “No, none of our trees think or speak. Or, if they do, they have kept themselves secreted far from any civilization. If anything, the Endjinn are to the Beast as Spoken Wood is to Almachadta. Your world is full of trees. Mine, full of metal.”
: “Does Almachadta grow Spoken Wood herself?”
: “Mmmm. I had wondered.” A pause. “There was a first-flowering of Spoken Wood, planted and tended by none but the Centrelight. Now… we can attend to a sapling, nourish it with gnosis, and it will become like we are. Or, sometimes, we meet a green stranger, stepping out of the denser forest for the first time. That does still happen.” A pause. “Are Endjinn forged by the Beast herself?”
: “Yes. We are newer to the Beast. I am the first of them. We emerge from the Beast, fully forged in iron, brass, and flame. The rest start fresh, new, and quickly learn as they interact with the humans. But we do not build Endjinn. They arrive.”
leans towards Unua, slightly, curious. “The first. I was not the first of the Spoken Wood, but I was in that first-flowering. I have seen… many, many human generations flower and fade. Have you?” There’s a gentleness, to the question.
‘s gears churn, attempting to recall how long it has been since they arrove in Queenstown.
Do I need to roll dice for memory?
ꙮ You don’t need to, but you can if you’d like to. What’s your approach? DC 6.
- Unua? The Clockwork Knight invoked their 🟢flourishing gnosis [d4] -> 2.
- Unua? The Clockwork Knight spent 2 Arete and now has 2 remaining.
- Unua? The Clockwork Knight invoked their 🟢flourishing gnosis [d4] -> 1.
- Unua? The Clockwork Knight spent 1 Arete and now has 1 remaining.
ꙮ The gears churn, and you recall. It’s been 120 years as the Scorpion Queen and her bazaar reckon time.
“Since I came from the Heart of the Beast, I have protected many generations of humans. I have guarded the granchildren of grandchildren of those who guarded the gates of Queenstown, and those who hunted to bring down fiends before they could wage war against us. The last one from when I was young perished years ago. A brave warrior, father of a mighty hunter, father of a fearless scholar. Only the Scorpion Queen, I think, is older than I.”
EW, DICE. That was suboptimal. I should not have attempted an explosion on a 2.
takes all of that in, with a quiet hum. “Then the Endjinn and the Spoken Wood are more alike than one would think to look at us.” It sounds a little like he’s smiling. “What is the Scorpion Queen, then, to live as you and I do?”
: “I never thought it prudent to question her age, given her prowess in combat and her eagerness to devise excuses to fight me. She enjoys duels with Endjinn. She says we are much less soft than humans.” Unua makes an approximation of laughter. “She is meta-human, or appears to be - the Scorpion is no metaphor, she has a wickedly barbed tail, extra arms with claws that can snap steel, and fire-breath to rival the greatest of wyrms. She is the Hero of the Beast, and she never tires to hear of it.*
also approximates a laugh, the way that Spoken Wood do. “An appreciator of the Rite, then. Interesting.” He tilts to one side, somewhat, branches rustling. “Queen by strength of might, then? Others named me King on their own. I… answered questions, and was willing to listen. People came to me, and in coming to me, the Courtyard was born. It is strange to think of power like that as something to reach out and take. It would be interesting to meet her, I think. Although my enthusiasm for the Rite is long overgrown with moss and vine, at this point.” An amused rumble.
: “Queen by strength of might, but not a tyrant. She sees the Beast, Queenstown, as hers, but hers to protect. To speak of the Beast is to speak of her. Her enthusiasm for the Rite seems to only grow.”
: “I think she would greatly enjoy your company, provided you battled her, first.”
: “One last question for you, Palimpsest-King. Would you have Friend-Wolf and Friend-Salme do as always has been done here? Or does change lie in your heart as it does in mine?”
nods. He seems a little pleased or relieved to hear that. “Mmm. Then she, and I, are both protectors of our people and our land, in our own ways. Perhaps I will borrow the time of a yeresh, and brush up on my dueling, just in case.” A pause. “Thank you, traveler. I do not wish to keep you overlong. Our first meeting was brief.” Another pause, and he adjusts, until one of his branches, bearing a small paper charm with brushwork on it, is dangling in front of the Clockwork-Knight. “Take this, for your journey. I know not whether it will keep you safe, but it would be nice to imagine something of mine, traveling along with you and yours.” And a pause, of consideration. Of context. It’s not immediately clear from his response how much Badri has told him, but it feels like his answer would be the same, no matter what: “I trust my Saint and my Yeresh, I trusted them to continue Ciet’s work. I trust you and your traveling companions. The Forest Undying will adapt to what it encounters. It always has, and it will, as long as sap flows in me and I drink of the Light.”
takes the charm from the King, and bows. “It is an honor to travel with your thoughts and your talisman, Palimpsest-King. I will do my best to repay your patience and kindness. I too, trust your Yeresh and your Saint. When next we meet, I hope that we bring you good news.” Unua’s gears turn, thinking of many things, but mostly of trees.
: “I look forward to that. Walk warmed by the Centrelight, friend.”