8th Bre Taola, 452 E.R.
Isil'nari manor house, library
Tansathil Isil'nari sat easily in a familiar chair, with various documents spread on the table in front of him. The sylvari lord's expression was entirely bland to the casual observer, although those most familiar with his apparently ageless features might have detected the slightest hint of tension around his icy green eyes. As was the custom among the high nobles of the sylvari, Tansathil wore his platinum hair loose, allowing it to hang freely past his shoulders. He wore tasteful, loose-fitting clothing of the finest cream-colored silk, with a delicate gold chain around his neck.
The surroundings of the room were similarly tasteful; the many shelves of books were meticulously arranged and organized, and the furniture here was all of muted colors, soft cushions, and pleasant lighting. The library was designed for serious study, and the lord had spent countless hours making full use of it. Today, however, the hour approached to see a different use to the space.
To his left stood a tall sylvari woman with blonde hair a few shades darker than the lord's. She was likewise outfitted in the trappings of nobility, which she carried with unconscious grace. Her expression, however, was more noticeably darkened.
"Are you certain of this course, my lord?" the woman asked carefully.
A ghost of a frown pulled at the corner of Tansathil's mouth. He glanced up from the papers to the woman's face. "Meriliel, my beloved," he addressed her in a smooth tone that yet suggested tension, "we have discussed this. There appears to be no other way."
Her frown was clear and her tone frosty. "Is that so? Why, after all this time, can we not simply allow the past remain in the past?"
Now, the lord's frown grew pronounced - and the sight of it caused a shiver inside of Meriliel, though she did not outwardly show it.
"My lady," he spoke with hidden iron in his tone, "the very future of this House demands action. I will speak of this no more."
The lady knew full well that there was no point in arguing when her husband was like this; truth be told, for the past few decades, he had been like this more and more often. Part of her desperately longed to wind her life back a few centuries, to the time before Tansathil had become the head of House Isil'nari. Back when her life still seemed her own.
But there was no use expressing such thoughts. With a small nod, she stepped back away from the desk.
A soft rap at the door led to a servant's admission into the library. The young syl bowed his head with sufficient respect before speaking. "Lord Isil'nari, your guests have arrived," the servant spoke.
The platinum-haired lord nodded slightly. "Very well," he answered. "Admit them."
***************************************************
Presently, the servant returned, leading an interesting contrast of individuals into the library. As the group assembled in front of his desk, the lord made no motion to rise and greet them. Instead, Tansathil remained seated, with a pair of armed bodyguards standing stone-still behind him in flanking positions against the wall. Meriliel had had exited the chamber prior to the admission of the guests, leaving just the lord and his three attendants behind.
"Thank you for joining me here today," the sylvari lord spoke graciously. "I trust that your needs have been seen to?"
Indeed, the visitors had been treated to a table of fine foods and beverages, including the offer of a wine older than any of the guests in the room. While the host had not joined his visitors for the meal, he had been certain that they were treated with respect.
(OOC: assuming a general positive response, or at least no objections...)
His face impassive, the lord spoke. "I am Tansathil Isil'nari, lord of this House. Welcome, guests."
(OOC: any responses can go here, none are required)
"I will not waste your time," the lord explained. "Instead, I will move to the heart of the matter." The older sylvari took a long look around the room at the collection of figures present. "Some of you, I know personally," he stated as his eyes lingered on the young sylvari woman with a missing arm. "Others," he continued as his gaze swept over the group, "I have yet to meet before this day, though you have proven to be reliable to my House. As such, I have gathered you here today to seek your aid."
The seven guests indeed seemed to represent a wide swath of the populace; five of the seven were sylvari from all levels of society, one was a cidal, and one was a massive creature that seemed a mix of bull and man.
"Many centuries ago," the lord explained, "there were six Great Houses of Alloyren. Teltathar, Birdel, Eleneth, Isil'nari, Mithethiel - and Lanalthir. In the war against the k'goth - the accursed Anathari - the great city of Viastel was laid waste, and the House of Lanalthir was thrown down. Our people have mourned this loss for two millennia, and even now, the pain tears a hole in our hearts."
Truth be told, Lord Tansathil seemed far more angry - or perhaps bitter - than mournful.
"The ruins of Viastel lay within the bounds of what is now known as Sendria. This is a land of evil men, a land of dark magics, a land of dangers and hatred. We are eternally grateful to the vigilance of Hyanda Nost for their determination to keep us safe from the pollution of these children of the Anathari."
The lord continued. "At least the humans did not fully despoil Viastel as they did some of our other beautiful tal'en; rather than raise up one of their teeming wasp nests they call a city over the bones of Viastel, they have allowed the forests there to overgrow the ruins, so nothing but birds or beasts live there today. And yet..." his voice trailed off for a moment.
"The loss of the city, and of the Great House, stains the honor of our people to this day. So many priceless, irreplaceable pearls were trampled beneath the swine of the Anathari horde... those foul creatures that destroyed in unthinking ignorance and hate." He took a breath.
"House Lanalthir had a manor some twenty miles west of the city of Viastel. We know that the manor also fell during that dark time, and we long assumed that it was fully despoiled. The crypts that contain the bones of our cousins..." his voice trailed off as Tansathil shook his head.
"Viastel itself once contained several fabled relics of our people," the lord continued, "but by all accounts, all of these treasures were lost with the city, and history has given us no indication that any survived those dark years." He paused for a long moment.
"Until now."
The tiniest whisper of a grin graced the sylvari's alabaster features for a moment. "Recently, we have come to possess an ancient journal that speaks of desperate efforts to preserve some of those irreplaceable items, some of those connections to our people. The account tells of a rush to secure some of these treasures beneath the crypts of House Lanalthir. The Anathari were well known for their superstitions around the dead - which made the crypts an ideal location for this. Add in the sealing of the crypts, and certain defensive measures... naturally, nothing is certain after so much time, but the possibility is strong enough to be worth investigating the truth of the present day situation."
Lord Isil'nari sat up straight and steepled his fingers on top of the table. "This, naturally, is where you come in," he explained.
"The empire is not in a position to march a detachment of soldiers across a heavily-guarded border into Sendrian land to demand the return of long-lost relics of our people. That would undoubtedly lead to open war."
He frowned slightly. "Nor are we foolish enough to send some diplomat to seek their return; at best, we would be ignored. More likely, the humans would send their own expedition to ensure that what rightfully belongs to the Sylvari is never returned."
The elder syl allowed his gaze to once again pan over his assembled guests. "Each of you," he began, "brings a certain unique set of skills to the proverbial table. Each of you is more than capable in your chosen craft. If you were to successfully infiltrate the human lands, locate the ruins of the House Lanalthir manor, and retrieve these relics from the crypts there, you would earn the gratitude of the empire... and more immediately, the favor of House Isil'nari. As I understand it, each of you could benefit greatly from such gratitude."
Tansathil allowed his hands to slide into a flattened position. "In the event that this is somehow not obvious," he added, "this... mission is not a thing to discuss with every washerwoman and hunter that you may pass. Naturally, the idea that the Sylvari would condone an... expedition into hostile human territory is not the sort of thing that one may simply broadcast about the countryside. This is sensitive information; I take some degree of risk even discussing it with you. Understand that while you would earn the gratitude of the empire and the favor of this House on your success, betrayal of these secrets would likewise earn you the sort of enmity that... well, let us say could lead to an unpleasant future for you. If you elect to decline my proposal, you must surely understand that any sort of information leak would go very poorly for you, indeed."
After letting the understated threat hang in the air for several moments, the lord spoke again. "Naturally, I expect that you have questions, you may wish to converse a bit among yourselves and so forth. Be that as it may, I will need to know whether or not I can count on you to aid House Isil'nari."
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