"A Silversmith would know if the Silver is ready once she could finally see her reflection through it."
-Silver Lady Gorgo, Founding Mother of the Silver Knighthood
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Silence reigned as white ravens circled the Dirgean Docks. Each boat-landings deemed desolate to welcome the Diplomat from the far south of the Gwandoyan continent, travelling for the whole autumn in voyage to talk politics with the northern country- for whatever its worth.
The Silver Lady raised a hand and the Frostguards formed a line. She has a dragging feeling about the whole ordeal, or maybe she's just hungover from last night's festivities. From her studies, history proved that the pale citizens of the snowy mountains had never come in common terms with the dark people of the volcanic deserts. They may share the same ideologies but somehow, there's an unwritten rule that no matter how wide the world of Viridia is- her land is not big enough to fit in two war countries. And there used to be four great war countries from the Old World, but only the strongest thrive.
From the distance where the sun meets the sea came the blinding shimmer of a Steel Colossus, cutting through the rough waters like a warm knife on butter. Its glinting made the Silver Lady grip her black gown, she missed the touch of steel down her palms. The satisfaction of riding men on warm nights could never replace her lust for riding to battle, clashing steel with death on cold mornings is something to truly live for as a Silver Knight.
And the Sailor satisfied both of those needs for her.
But she is a sensible woman- just with more duties than time. Her Father is hardly an astute and competent Kazer of Dirge, she envies Fer'hjaal Bluebeards' province to the stars for having a responsible Kazer, even the toe of Amanita's father contains more honour than the Kazer of Dirge.
Drina's brows knitted as the colossus came into close proximity, boasting a structure of pure weaponry with blood evident by the blades situated across its keel and haul, unwashed by the voyage. Is it crimson from fishes? Or from people? She doesn't care. Sovenian ships are far more impressive anyways. Made of Perfect Ice, unmelting as they cruise through the clouds and close to the sun, docked on mountaintop harbors and guided by mountain range lighthouses where the Cloud-weavers reside.
Ocemnian drums and chants echoed across their cold empty sea, Drina could see her soldiers tremble in awe as it moved towards the pier. They were expecting the arrival of a diplomatic ship yet they seem to be receiving a warship instead.
"Roll the carpets down you witless milk drinkers! Do I have to do it myself!?" The Silver Lady roared and the Frostguards remembered to whom their 'tremble of awe' solely belongs to.
Torches were lit on the entire length of the receiving pier as they roll a warm carpet of blizzard moss.
The Steel Ship finally reached the Pier. The red Ocmenian Flag flying proudly at the sail's very top; a Golden Sun with swords as sunrays rising with the bleeding aurora and setting with the sea of blood and lava below. Drina snickered, it was precisely written in the epitaphs of fate that the two nations should contrast each other. The Frostguards raised the blue Sovenian flag to engage with the visitors. Sovenia's design shows a snowflake embraced by the silver crescent of the 13th moon, nestling on top of white mountain patterns.
A series of clashing steel resounded and stairs made of swords rolled down the pier, horned men of dark skin and thin vestments descends from it, wearing tattoos of rich gold instead of fur clothes as if it denies the cold air of Sovenia.
The tallest among all the Ocmenians disembarked before the latter, the lined soldiers slaming their weapons down the pier as he took his first step in Sovenian land. Drina observed every inch of this Ocmenian who seems to wear more smiles than clothes, which failed to hide his frightening features.
From his head were horns of ebony curving its proud sadistic sharpness-crowning his overwhelming, fleshy physique. His military posture spoke of foreign authority and strength as he walked closer.
Drina squinted to study the tattoos on his night-black skin, heavily detailed with the complexities of Runic Engineering of common Ocmenian war magic. The golden tint continued through his bronze hair of martial cut that connects down to his trimmed beard. And even from afar- the deep gold of his expressive eyes were spellbinding, bringing the warmth of his dessert country to this unchanging land of winter.
Geraldine's words were true, the diplomat was indeed a bed wrecker.
But the coast held another strange sight, behind the diplomat follows an old Sovenian-looking servant. The Silver Lady felt revolted, her pride shattered in silence as she assess the old woman's shaven and tattooed head, 'Why would a Sovenian stoop so low to be a servant of an Ocmenian?' She thought to herself.
"Greetings envoy, welcome to Sovenia. I am Drina Bluesaile, daughter of Kazer Halfid of the Dirgean Province." She courtsied.
"My pleasure meeting you fair matron." Laguna grabbed Drina's hand to place a slow kiss. Finding it strange how the Ocmenian emits the fragrance of freshly baked bread. 'Is this the smell of his homeland?' she wondered.
"Or should I address you as the Silver Lady?" The diplomat inquired politely, Drina is not surprised how her reputation in skirmishes would reach the other end of the world.
"It would be my pleasure, but you can just call me Lady Bluesaile." She returned the smile with high hopes that history books would mark this event as the first peaceful negotiation of the two polar opposite countries.
"I'm delighted, you can call me Laguna, a humble diplomat-prince at your service..." Laguna stepped back and bowed down before her. The created distance were enough so his horns won't pierce the lady.
"I hope the seas faired well the voyage to our country?"
"Indeed your highness, my men made sure to have pleased Eldro and Fonclere before embarking through their storms and oceans. I'd even like to share that we rescued two of your citizens from a wreck on our way here." The Diplomat informed, a grungy chuckle escaping from the old servant beside him.
"Truly? Are they currently with you?" Drina's smile twitched, wondering who were these mindless fishermen who went against the notice of reserving the entire coast to receive the envoys. They'll no doubt be whipped in her dark chambers later.
"Gramba kho anaro'zhado!"
(Send them down here!)
Laguna ordered his men, not taking his eyes off the matron.
"Jova, Laguna-Razo!"
(Yes, Happy Prince!)
The Ocmenia soldiers went in the ship, coming back down the pier with a familiar pair under their care.
Drina's poise faltered upon the sight of the rescued Sovenians. One of them was the last person in her mind. Ian'drah, limping and steadied on the shoulder of a foreigner she had never seen before. After deducting all possible scenarios in her mind, she finally concluded that the man beside the sailor is no other than the mysterious Blackmercy himself.
It is hardly believable but that's the only truth she could come up with. The man's skin glistens with the far sea, his hair draining the sun's tint behind with how red they are. His beauty essentially dwarfed everything around him including the frightening strength of the Ocmenians.
The Silver Lady had seen a lot of scarlets from her battles before but nothing is as red as this man's hair. Suddenly, Drina now knows why the Sailor loves cheap Snowberry Wine among all expensive alcohol offered in every banquet.
"Ah, I know them by names, you have our deepest gratitude for taking care of our people." Drina bowed down to hide her shame.
"I hope this small gesture of help might be a stepping stone for prosperous agreements between our countries, Lady, don't you agree?" Laguna beamed in optimism.
"Perhaps, I'm grateful for your generous vigilance to our citizens. I'm looking forward repaying your gesture of kindness in the most Dirgean way possible, Diplomat."
"I'm looking foward to it also." Laguna says while Hildred places a robe all over him to keep him warm, it may look like a slave's gesture but she's just doing her job as a Grandmother.
"I'll look after these poor citizens first and follow to the Dirge-Clam Palace shortly. My men will escort you there in my absence, please do rest and enjoy your stay there, the view of the city from the palace is promising I assure you." Drina motioned over her soldiers to cater to the Diplomat and the ship.
"Gladly, Lady." Laguna turned to follow the frostguards, Hildred gave a farewell smile to Sion before tailing before her grandson, acting slow and low as she walks away.