Chapter 20-497: Epilogue IX: The City of Brass (2/2)

Perhaps they had meant to slowly reply and delay the opening of the doors to show their restraint and power, but there was an instant creaking as jumpy Fire Jotun guards, their blood boiling and hearts racing, heaved open the doors with creaking chains and gears, and their efreet officers didn’t even think to stop them.

The great coal-skinned jotuns in their heavy eshbronze breastplates, greaves, and crested helms could only stare at the titan as she strode in, barely coming up to her waist, feeling the weight of her Stature bearing down on their lesser bloodlines, and the pure primal strength rolling off her with every step, heavy enough to shake earth and sky, yet not marking the polished lava tiles below her hooves in the slightest.

“A-Allow us to escort you, great Lady!” the foremost officer managed to gasp out, hurriedly gesturing for them all to form up in an honor guard. The normally surly Fire Jotuns pounded up eagerly to obey, broadly muscular bodies straightening up with the honor as they snapped up huge poleaxes and arranged themselves to either side and before the titan with great pride at this opportunity.

Of course, this was a Jotun honor guard, and that meant it had to be loud. Iron-clad boots slammed down in precise synch, perfectly matched by every other stride of the titan; halberds beat, and the low bass of the Jotuns’ chants seemed to only add to the pressure in the air, like an avalanche was somehow falling slowly down the grand approach avenue of the Saray Azzar.

The overseeing efreeti aghas puffed themselves up in their spikes and capes and golden ornaments, flying alongside as grandly as they could, totally overshadowed by the presence of the titan, like minor ornaments to her slow and stately pace.

The display of the wealth and grandeur of the Azzar became a mere backdrop for the arrival of this titan, and the Azzar and their slaves and servants were quickly turning out on balconies and stands and side plazas to see her walking by, all of them gaping as they did so.

Then, like a burning river, the noble efreet flooded toward the Divan Azzar, where their Pasha was frantically preparing to receive this messenger.

Who was coming for Bey Garar’Azzar?!...

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Bey Garar’Azzar stared at the vision of light and darkness coming up the broad walk with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

Like everyone else here, he could not take off his eyes off her, but he could not remember where he had seen her before.

No, not her. He was suddenly struck by the idea that he was definitely looking at far more than one being. She was a Them, not some conceited royalty...

Hah, royalty could only wish to be like Them...

He was missing so many years of his life when he had abruptly reappeared at the family saray, and had no explanation for his missing years at all.

No accruals, no benefits; decades of time with nothing to show for it. The mockery from his kin at the lack of accomplishments had been there in their gazes, glances, and body language, although carefully kept from their words.

After all, he looked like he’d served time in the arena, as scarred and muscular as he was. Even if he remembered nothing, it was plain he’d fought, and the first few duels from the curious had confirmed that he was unseemly strong and fast.

There was only a Ring upon his finger to mark what had passed, and nothing more.

While his holdings and rank had not been removed, his lack of progress had effectively isolated him from the Court as punishment for such ‘laziness’. The loss of those years made him irritable, and his willingness to take that out on those who crossed him had not made him any friends.

Even the Fire Jotuns didn’t idly take him on now.

Now, the wandering son had a visitor of this stature coming to see him.

He had no idea who the Shrouded Lady was, as the servants had whispered They served, but his gaze fell upon the umbragold Ring upon his finger, and he wondered...

The Fire Jotuns tromped up before the great doors to the court, parting smoothly and mechanically, as if all they did all day was march escort duty, backs straighter and prouder than he’d ever seen them display.

The Kiay Bey Olamazzar, a snooty and long-nosed twat who had ingratiated himself with the Pasha centuries before, hurried up himself to do the announcement. “The titan Legion, servant of The Shrouded Lady, enters the Divan Azzar!” he called out as loudly and magnificently as he could, and even Garar admitted that Olamazzar had a fine voice for such court functions.

The great doors were a hundred feet high, as overdone and grandiose as the egos of his people, made to admit some of the greatest Elemental entities if they should choose to come to visit... or nobles of higher rank riding overly large servant creatures to display their own immense egos the better.

Bey Garar smirked on seeing Them stride in, and her tails flicked, shining gold sprinkling down like rain, landing accurately in the startled hands of her escorts.

Atargold medallions, with the very faces of each escort upon their own, and their own names on the back. Probably worth a goldweight each, and as mementos of this moment, doubtless far more. Those who had caught them clutched them tightly, and their chests swelled even more, if that was possible.