A LAST HURRAH

Players: Azami, Keeper of Crows (As Yowsen)

Though it is a small country of craftsmen and artists, after the recent upheaval of treachery and the mourning that followed, it seems that the few soldiers are on edge. So the royal guard who show in the stranger remain on the edge of vision as the person is shown into the gardens of the citystate's small palace.

 The queen stands before a small fountain, dressed in a simple dress of brushed lavender wool over a cream chemise, her white hair plaited down her back. Her arm is bandaged and in a sling. The guards show the foriegner in.

The man moves slowly into the garden's, looking about at its splendor. His head is shaven, like the man by whose name he states his business, and carries a small bundle, wrapped about by simple twine, which has been laboriously shaken, rocked, prodded, and checked by the guards, though the man adamantly refused to let them open it, it is quite certainly not a bomb. He walks with worn-out sandals through next to gorgeous bushes, his eyes open with wonder, and moves further in, stopping near the spring, standing ten feet from the lady, his mouth shut, his eyes open wide at the lady by the fountain. To the guards, he is just a face. But to Azami, who has walked amongst the people, he is recognizable as the former governor of the lost people of Garian, Darek Yowsen, a man who rallied troops against Isus. He just stands there, one leg absentmindedly rubbing the other, waiting for your approval.

Azami turns round when one of the guards steps forward and murmurs something in her ear, looking with curious green eyes at the messenger. She waves the guard away and moves forward, feet quiet on the sunwarmed cobbles and comes to a stop a polite distance from the man, her eyes taking in his face, his nervousness. Then she recognizes him, and a certain sharpness goes from her gaze, though he could have easily been called an enemy. Rather than greet him with coldness, she nods, a sort of welcoming smile tugging at her lips, as though encouraging him to relax. "Someone who can gather the hearts of men shouldn't stand with such a nervous look on his face, Yowsen."

The man just stares at you for a moment, setting his foot down as he is addressed, then gives a half-chuckle, half-sigh. "I told him you'd have me hanged." He shakes his head. "That bastard's never wrong though, eh." He takes a step forward and clears his throat. "Ahem. 'Queen Azami of Isus, I am a messenger of Keeper of Crows, formerly a monk in the Order of the Immaculate Dragons. I was sent back.. here, to inform you that the refugees of the city-state of Garian are now resting peacefully in Saltwater Vale, content and happy with their position. He also mourns your loss." The man takes a few steps forward and sets the wrapped box on the ground, then backtracks to his former position.

"Thank you," Aza says, a bit akwardly. She looks away for a moment, then down at the box. The fingers of her broken and bandaged arm curl in towards the palm restlessly. "Has something happened?" She raises her eyes to his face. "You did what you thought was right. I don't care that you betrayed my husband, what he did-- it was meant well, but his grasp on the minds of people..." Aza stops, and takes a calming breath, her eyes closing for a moment as she gathers her composure, a flush of emotion colouring her cheeks. "Let it be behind us, Yowsen." She opens her eyes, then focuses on the box for a moment before looking up at him again, awaiting some explanation.

Yowsen shuffle's his feet a little uncomfortably again while looking at Azami. "Yeah. We're happy, you're happy, everyone's happy." He looks at the box, then back up at Azami, his eyes narrowing a little. "Crows led us out of here. He brought us to Greyfalls. You know how? Heaven. The bastard brought us to the gates of /heaven/ to get there. The whole city shone so bright, we could barely look at it. We finally got to that city and he rode into it, alone, and bought us time. To rest. Then, he waltzes in one day and says 'I got you a country,' or something like that. Sure enough, fertile land, nice for fishing, calm and quiet. And you know what?' He's voice is sweeping up faster now, its intensity growing. It's plain to see how this man's fervor might swell up in others. He jabs his finger at Azami. "He got excommunicated! Exiled from Greyfalls! Because he kept giving his reports, like some sort of eagle's badge-wearing scout. Wrote to 'em about how he walked with you and was going to talk to you and all that. Turns out saving a couple thousand people is a crime if someone doesn't bleed in the process." He spits on the ground, one finger waving at the packet as he turns to leave, "I hope there's a head in there, just for you."

There's a sound of drawn steel, but Aza raises her good hand quick as a flash, watching the man silently. It's nearly impossible to offend the young woman it seems, for nothing changes in her expression, even as he points at her and grows angry. But then, considering the past week, there's bigger things in line. She watches Yowsen go, turning her head to shake her head at the guard who comes red faced to her elbow.

 In the meanwhile, Aza kneels and opens the box, trusting in her men to make sure Yowsen makes it out of the city safely (perhaps not too wisely).

The string comes off easily enough, simple twine, and the unmarked box opens easily: it is made of woven reeds. Inside is an archaic necklace of large prayer beads. The beads themselves are perfectly smooth and round, crafted out of dark, deep jade. They are indigo in color, and of such a deep purple that they appear almost blue in the flickering light from the fountain. Their entire face is covered by flashing, miniscule lines of silver text: the whole of the Order of Immaculate Dragons' sutras are listed upon the beads. In the light, these silvered words almost seem to glow and shimmer, and there are larger words, written in Old Realm carved directly into one particular bead with some potent implement. It reads "Speak, and Creation Listens." Atop this beaded necklace, which Crows always wore with pride around his neck, is a small closed envelope, with a stylized 'A' on its head, sealed with melted wax bearing no sigil.

Azami's eyes widen. Slowly, she reaches in and draws out the prayer beads, her right hand shaking. "<Oh no...>" she murmurs, paling. The guard just behind her blinks as she falls into her native tongue. The beads snake out of the box and drape over her arm as she stands, holding them in the light, her fingers curling gently, reverentially about them. Tears start in her green eyes and her shoulders tremble.

 "Majesty?" The guard asks, stepping forward in some alarm as Azami raises her hand, still holding the jade beads, to cover her face, shoulders shaking visibly. "Do we bring him back?"

 She shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak, and leaves the garden. The import has not been lost on the yet-to-be crowned queen. Something has happened to Keeper of Crows. Now all that's left is to find out what.

The card is written in Low Realm, but the words are smooth and large, easily readable. "When the sun goes to sleep at dusk, and the world grows cold. It is a frightening journey from there, always upward into that sky. Many fall, many give into fear at such great heights. But there are lights in that sky. Some never stop reaching for them. Don't stop." It is signed simply with 'A Friend.'