Citizens traveling through this portion of the city looked healthy, happy, and proud. Their clothes were clean, their armor well kept. Numerous magically-imbued charms, jewelry, weapons and armor glowed in various shades of color and consistency, indicating a wealth of magical knowledge.
The existence of this part of Messyleio had been completely unknown to Jularra and her people. She stopped in the middle of the street, hands still on her hips, jaw wide open with wonder. The dense creaking of wood caught her attention as the house that concealed the staircase lowered back down behind her.
“The heart of Messyleio is protected by enchantment,” Melcayro explained as they walked. “The perimeter is a disguise to protect us. This house is our bridge between the two areas.”
“Why do you have to hide like this?” Wona asked.
Abranni stared at her.
“Messyleio claimed independence from Hignriten years ago,” Abranni began. “Most of the citizens in Messyleio lobbied hard for years to have a separate government and region dedicated to the practice and preservation of magic, but we were refused. When our grandparents’ generation saw that our way of life was threatened, they took action and claimed Messyleio for themselves as a sovereign nation.”
“And Hignriten has been trying to take it back ever since,” Wona inferred.
“Precisely,” Melcayro affirmed. “Some of Acorilinian’s past queens even voiced their support of Hignriten.” His tone deteriorated to agitation as he looked to Jularra. “Your country sought to diminish magic just because of your experience with it.”
Jularra shuffled her feet to gather her patience and develop a diplomatic response. She kept it simple.
“I do not feel the same way about magic,” Jularra responded. “Or about Hignriten’s treatment of Messyleio.”
Melcayro stared quietly at her, his face relaxing, if only slightly.
“We’ve been lucky so far,” he continued. “Our visible, exterior defenses have always held off any sieges, but we’re always trying to bolster and enhance those defenses with resources and tools we develop in secret.”
Jularra stopped and peered suspiciously at the town’s leaders as they kept walking. When Wona and Vischuno noticed Jularra had fallen behind, everyone else came to a stop and spun around.
Jularra shuffled her feet, sensing what was coming. “Why are you telling us your biggest secrets when you have so much to lose by doing so?”
Melcayro sucked air through his teeth and glanced at Abranni.
“You need our help, right?” Melcayro asked.
Jularra nodded.
“Well, we could use yours, too.”
Fifteen
Jularra had prepared for something less diplomatic. She was caught off guard by the simple notion of an exchange of help.
“Come on,” Melcayro said suddenly with a wave. “Who’s thirsty?”
The question prompted Jularra and the other Acorilinians to cast their eyes on the towering monolith ahead. It stood out from the other massive structures with its carved wooden accents, chiseled rock slabs, and extra metal rods, alight with energy that flared out from its corners.
On the outside of the walls, great ledges extended out from the main structure, connected by staircases linking them to the inside. Torches lit most of the bends, making the building an impressive kaleidoscope of design.
“What’s in there?” Vischuno asked.
“Ah, yes.” Melcayro clapped his hands together and looked at the building, apparently seeking the right words to describe it. “This is where we… relax.”
Wona raised an eyebrow and grinned. Jularra smirked back, but she was distracted. While the interior of the city was obfuscated by the Messyleians’ magic, the view from within remained unobstructed, and Jularra watched as the onyx curtain of night began to give way to the bruised plum of dawn. She wanted information; wanted to meet with Leona, and get home.
“Let’s see what your idea of relaxing is, then!” she said with false cheer.
Together with their Messyleian hosts, the Acorilinians passed between gargantuan columns made from hundreds of thin energy streams. Throngs of people flowed through and ebbed out. Raucous laughter, music, and food fragrances spilled out into the entryway. When the Acorilinians crossed the threshold, Jularra found herself stunned by the thriving complex inside.
An open atrium was capped by a high, thin glass roof which revealed the early dawn sky. Around the interior walls were huge balconies and ledges hosting games, food, and drink. The Acorilinians were met with occasional glances of distrust, but were otherwise ignored.
Melcayro and Abranni stopped at table after table to shake hands, pat backs, and kiss cheeks. The white noise of joy and drunkenness rippled throughout the chamber, and Jularra sensed her soldiers warming to their previously enigmatic hosts. Melcayro reached an empty table and beckoned for Jularra and her people to sit.
“What would you like?” Melcayro shouted.
An exhausted-looking bartender approached. Damp hair stuck to his brow; he pushed it away from his face while he waited on their order.
Jularra extended her hand, prompting Melcayro to order for them.
“Messyleian stout for everyone, then!”
The bartender nodded and weaved his way back through the crowd.
Melcayro held out his hands at the surrounding chairs. He himself sat at the head of the table, with Jularra beside him on his right. Jularra panned around the room again. She appreciated the Messyleians' newfound hospitality, but while she could have asked questions about the architecture for hours, time was not a luxury she had.
“So, what is it you need from us?” she prompted.
Melcayro chuckled.
“Right to it, eh?”
Jularra looked away. “I don’t mean to offend, but I need to be honest with you,” she said. “I don’t have time to linger.”
Melcayro’s jovial face fell. Across from Jularra, Abranni leaned closer. “But you have time to insert your forces into our city?”
“I explained this already,” Jularra shot back. “There was no time to arrange a formal visit.”
The bartender returned quicker than expected. Then again, Jularra considered, this is Melcayro and Abranni’s table.
