The Divine Tears: Crestfallen

VII

The sailors were rushing back and forth when Celia came in sight; a city of yellow, seething with heat waves. Distant yellow towers neared. They harnessed the sails as they neared. The princess and the Valkan stood at the edge of the ship, ready to disembark.

'I know your armour might make it hot in this land,' Tessriel said. 'But please, keep your helm on. The council said the king is young and arrogant, I don't want him to feel antagonised by your age and stature.'

'My age and stature?' Daarion tittered with confidence. 'You make it sound as if I'm a giant, even though I'm hardly a head taller than you. But I shall obey the oh great princess' orders.' Daarion pulled on his helm. He adjusted his short sword on his side and reassured that he had his longsword hanging from his back.

'Oh,' Tessriel said, 'please don't speak, it'd be better if you're quiet altogether.'

Daarion nodded amusingly.

The ship hopped and came to a halt. A band of guards stood in formation; their armour were thin layers of cloth, helms of bronze, tall shields of wood covered in plates of iron, and spears with a red strip of cloth attached to it. A man emerged from the guards; his yellow robes dragged through the sandy ground. He had light brown tanned skin, his eyes were dark, and his hair was dark, thick, and entangled.

'Welcome,' the man said humbly as he bowed slowly, his accent was thick with a rough tongue, 'I am Ahmoor Galdor, emissary of the great king, Kaldoor. It is an honour to accept your presence.'

'I am honoured to be here,' Tessriel bowed. 'I am Tessriel Langforne, princess of Evanduria.'

'I do hope your journey was satisfactory.'

She nodded. 'It was. The last day was rather hot, to say the least.'

Ahmoor smiled. 'And undeniably we will freeze to death entering your land.'

She gracefully smiled, merely out of politeness. 'I trust that the king is waiting for my arrival?'

'Of course,' Ahmoor said, turning, 'right this way.'

The ship with the overlooking Valkans floated nearby. The four kept a watchful eye on any unusual movement or a shout.

Daarion walked close by Tessriel, not trusting any movement from the guards. The pathway they were escorted through led to the palace of Celia. Even though the palace was a bland yellow beige, it was large, much larger than Enolia. The palace was surrounded by lush gardens with many unknown flowers. The palace overlooked a massive yellow city, utterly brimming with life. Beyond the city—a sandy desert landscape with patches of exotic vegetation.

The interior had quite a display. There was no throne, a comfortable thick carpet was in its place. The great hall of the Celian palace was artistic, with paintings of their kings and queens decorating the walls, and the ceiling was filled with the four Divine Dragons and their respective colours.

'How beautiful,' the princess said, looking up at the palace's ceiling. 'How did you create the dragons? They're fantastically detailed.'

'They're small tiles,' Ahmoor said, smiling with pride, 'we cut them into small pieces and create these magnificent pieces. Every tile is created perfectly to fit into its brother.'

She ogled some more at the Golden Palace's hall. She had not seen any art as unusual but compelling before. Ahmoor trailed her, taking delight with every remark the princess had to give. Daarion admired the art as well, but his main priority was her; he said no word, merely listening, not to the word, but to their actions as well.

'If you please, Tessriel,' Ahmoor said, 'we do not want to make the king wait any longer.'

'We certainly do not,' Tessriel straightened her dress. 'Lead the way.'