sox
فلسطين حرة
a meeting with the queen
mentions: all characters
On an overcast, uneventful day in the noble city of Opus, a single frazzled Alchemist found himself rushing from street to street, frantically searching for one mage in particular. This uneventful day was not like other uneventful days, no, not at all. On this day, the Queen was up to something particularly secretive up in the towers of Wyton Castle, hidden away from public eye as life bustled on below. Her Majesty had recently become aware of a threat that would single-handedly dismantle their entire kingdom in a heartbeat if wielded in the wrong hands, and that was simply unacceptable. On this day, this overcast, uneventful day, an elite team would be recruited, and it was up to little old Gaz to make sure they got the message in time.
With a battered box full of various letters swaying his balance with every step, the Alchemist finally stumbled across the hole-in-the-wall storefront he had been searching for all along since the clock struck midnight: the shop of Teressa the High Mystic. One of the most skilled mages in the capitol city, Teressa specialized in Communication Magic, a talent rare to acquire and even rarer to hone well. This mage in particular, however, was a direct consultant to Her Majesty, and anyone the Queen trusted to do her bidding definitely had Gaz' loyalty.
"'Ressa, are ya here?! It's Gaz!" he bellowed into a random, meaningless crack in the retaining wall behind the palace gardens. "Her Majesty sent me for that little somethin' we discussed last week! Do ya remember?!"
Before he could finish hollering at the top of his lungs, Gaz jumped back in start as the stone wall began to part and take the shape of two gargoyles before his eyes. Despite how many times he watched the spectacle, it never ceased to amaze him with its beauty, the seemingly desolate wall reforming itself into something intimidatingly beautiful with a simple touch of magic. Between the two gargoyles stood a tiny woman of nearly five feet, her long, platinum hair giving off the same pale blue glow as her iridescent irises as the spirit of some feline rested calmly around her shoulders. The woman exuded an air of confidence and wisdom that only experience could bring, her looks decieving of her age despite having lived well over half a century.
Teressa plastered on a calm smile, not quite reaching her eyes as the spirit cat pinned Gaz with an unflinching stare. "Good evening, Gazoreth," her deep, soothing voice deadpanned. "Pleasure to see you, as always. The ritual has already been prepared. Hand over the letters and you can be on your way."
Gaz's eyebrows shot up as he took another step forward, obviously intending to object, but the spirit cat lunged forward before a single syllable could escape his mouth. With one swipe of its tail, the feline knocked hte box out of his hands and sent it flying back behind the wall, precisely blocked from view behind Teressa's back. "Oh, uh, alrighty then, folks. I can trust that ya can get the word out in time, yeah?" he double-checked, but the returning scowl and narrowed eyes sent his way had him running for the hills before bothering to wait for a verbal response.
Later that morning, nine mages from all across the kingdom recieved the same message in their dreams, a simple invite summoning them to Wyton Castle for a meeting of dire importance. No other information was provided on the invite; Gaz, however, took the liberty of writing his own introduction to each mage he'd be meeting later that day, especially since he'd be working closely with them while they were in the capitol. Each talented mage would find the hand-written letter sitting on their chest when they woke up, greeting them from the moment their opened their eyes. A summon to Opus was not optional, despite how friendly it seemed: if the Queen needed someone in particular, Her Majesty would stop at nothing to acquire them.
And so these nine mages found themselves making their way towards Opus, a capitol that was only frequented by the outlying cities for business needs of traders, soldiers, and noblemen alike. The grand, ancient bell of the clock tower struck noon, and the gates of Wyton Castle opened for its guests.