[identity profile] noir-shiroi.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] writers_loft
Title: Dangerous Blood
Genre: Fantasy
Part: 1
Summary: A fairy with a grudge against the populace of Is-Adran has been released from his prison by a strong storm. With the king's mandate Erol Fairbain, the youngest advisor of magic in Is-Adran history, sets off to recapture the fairy along with the help of Jonquil Del Bosque, the first advisor of magic to tangle with the fairy's granddaughter, a magician who hasn't found her magic yet.
Notes: This is only the very beginning but I would love any feedback you can give me.

The summer storm from the previous night had been one of the worst in recent memory. The sky had gotten darker and darker throughout the day as people scurried around making last minute purchases and trying to protect their homes as best they could from the oncoming rain. The sky finally bowed under the pressure around seven that night, water rushing down into the city in large sheets, the streets flooding in rapid time. Strong wind blew around anything that wasn’t tied down and bright streaks of lightning lit up the dark like daytime. For the few that were safe inside of well-built buildings like the castle the storm was little more than an annoyance but for many who lived in self built wooden houses the storm was a great concern.

The light of the next day revealed the damage that the poorer citizens of Sungai Raya had incurred. Windows were broken, houses were falling down, roofs had collapsed and many of the stalls in the market were gone. The king’s advisors were in a constant state of motion as they gathered information about their home cities, learning about the extent of the destruction and the state of their people. Erol Fairbain, the king’s advisor of magic and the liaison of Sungai Raya was just about to step outside of his office to survey the city when a messenger ran toward him, a rather grim look on the man’s face.

“My lord, I have some rather disturbing news,” the messenger stated before Erol had given him permission to speak. Even after five years living in the castle Erol still hadn’t gotten used to the veiled rudeness of many of the others. A messenger would have never spoken first to one of the other advisors but because he was one of the still feared magical class he didn’t deserve the same respect. He was lucky the man had come to talk to him at all.

“And what is it?” Erol sniped in return. He had decided long ago that if others were going to look down on him for his powers he would treat them the same, an attitude that had garnered him quite the reputation. Everyone knew King Faramund’s advisor of magic, the young man with the eyes like a predatory cat that had the tongue and claws to match.

“The prison that held the Fay Drust was destroyed in the storm last night,” the messenger replied, his voice tight and eyes glinting with obvious dislike.

“What?” Erol asked, all of the snark melting off of him with the other’s words.

“Drust is gone.” Drust, a fairy from the Northern woods had gone on a killing rampage almost fifty years ago in an effort to topple the newly crowned king and return land that he claimed belonged to his people to their realm. He had been captured by the advisor of magic at the time in a specially made glass jar with an iron lid which had been hidden in a cave and untouched until now.

“Does the king know?”

“Yes my lord. He would like all advisors to assemble immediately to discuss the best course of action.”

“Thank you for the message. You may go now.” Even though many messengers did not wait for permission to speak to him they had to wait to be sent away. The man gave him a stiff half bow, much too high for one of the king’s advisors, turned sharply on his heel and left. Erol threw his cloak back into his office before rushing off in the direction of the meeting hall.

As the youngest advisor in the king’s retainer Erol was already met with disdain from the other advisors but the advisor of magic was looked at as lower than his magic less counter parts, an unfortunate result of the great war between magicians and the powerless over two hundred years ago. He could feel the other’s eyes on him as he entered the hall, the last one to arrive. The messenger must have taken his time delivering his message.
“Advisor Fairbain, late again I see,” Advisor Wallace observed from behind his wire rimmed glasses. Wallace was the king’s advisor of foreign affairs and had a shiny bald head and a long white beard. He was the oldest of the advisor’s and had been with King Faramund’s father in his court as well. While the other advisors were on a first name basis they refused to use such friendly terms with Erol. He was always advisor Fairbain.

“I apologize, the messenger must have taken the long way to find me,” he replied as he took his seat. The king was still missing so Erol did not have to worry about a formal chastising for his tardiness, only the judging glances from the other advisors.

“Where are your meeting robes?” Advisor Ava asked, her voice cool with disapproval. Erol carefully looked around the room at the others and saw that each was dressed in their formal meeting robes, the different colored sashes of each city standing out proudly against the neutral silver of the rest of the robe. He looked down at his own clothes and realized how out of place he looked in his city clothes, a pair of plain brown cotton pants, an unadorned white shirt and his black leather boots. The only thing he wore that would have distinguished him from the populace was a silk purple jacket embroidered with protective magical symbols.

“I was on my way out into the city when the messenger arrived. I didn’t have time to change,” he explained. Erol knew that they would never accept the explanation but it was the truth and he wasn’t going to lie to them. Before anyone else could comment the doors behind the king’s chair opened and two armored guards stepped into the meeting hall. The advisors rose from their seats as the guards announced the king’s arrival. They bowed as king Faramund took his seat and stood when directed.

“You may sit,” the king said. The group took their seats once again and waited for the king to begin the meeting. The king’s hazel eyes swept over the room before he cleared his throat. “I’m sure all know why you are here but let me remind you. Drust, the fay that advisor of magic Del Bosque captured fifty years ago was released by the storm last night. What do you all propose we do?” There were a few minutes of silence before advisor Sa’d raised his hand.

“Why don’t we just let him go? He can’t be that dangerous,” he announced.

“He’s from the unseelie court, they’re all dangerous,” Erol replied. Sa’d glared at him but didn’t say anything else.

“Sa’d’s right. Maybe these past fifty years have weakened him,” Ava agreed, coming to the finance advisor’s aid.

“He’s a fay, they live for hundreds of years. Fifty was nothing to him,” Erol pointed out. “Why are we discussing this? The other advisors don’t know anything about magic users,” he asked.

“Because we make decisions together advisor Fairbain,” Wallace interjected.

“And I respect that advisor Wallace, but in this case none of the other advisors have any experience,” Erol explained. He saw the elder advisor suck in a breath through his teeth and realized that the others would only react badly to his words. Despite his position as the advisor of magic they all considered him too young to know anything truly useful.

“Advisor Halvard might not have any experience with magic users but he has plenty of pursuit and capture experience. Advisor, do you have any ideas on how to trap the fay?” King Faramund said casting Erol a hard look. Erol’s cheeks turned pink embarrassment, his green eyes casting downwards to look at the black marble table. Being reprimanded by advisor Wallace was one thing but king Faramund was another.

“Thank you my liege, you are quite right. We all have our specialties, we can all help in some way,” advisor Halvard responded, his gaze and self-satisfied smirk pointed at Erol.
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