Nazmyr stood upon a hilltop and gazed at the valley below. In the center of this vale, about a mile from where he was standing, rose the tall spires of the Royal Kingdom of Ev which glittered like gold brightly against the background of blue sky. His hands moved in fluid motion as he spoke arcane words. His body shimmered out of existence only to reappear at the palace gate. The guards were taken by surprise by Nazmyr’s sudden appearance but quickly recognized him.

“Apologies my lord.’ Stammered one of the guards. “We were given strict orders not to allow you…”

“Do you know who I am?” Nazmyr sneered in whispered tones.

The guard nodded his head in the affirmative.

“Then you know what I am capable of.”

Once again the guard nodded his head in the affirmative.

Nazmyr pushed past the guard, spoke an esoteric word, jaunted through the gate, and made his way to the palace. The remaining guards took Nazmyr for his word and did nothing to impede him. A runner was sent to inform the Steward of Nazmyr’s arrival. The Steward was quick to stay ahead of Nazmyr in order to inform Lady Ev of his arrival. He raced up the crescent white marble staircase to an elaborately hand carved white oak door and gently knocked.

“What is it?!” demanded Langwidere.

“Apologies Lady Ev.” Replied the Steward “Lord Nazmyr Vandree is here to see you.”

“I made it quite clear that he was no longer welcome here!”

The door opened, Nazmyr spoke an esoteric word disabling the glyph protecting the threshold before he entered. Shelsa followed and found a comfortable spot on Langwidere’s vanity chair.

“How dare you!” Langwidere shrieked.

The Steward closed the door behind Nazmyr before making a hasty retreat.

“You must allow me to explain…”

“I must allow nothing! To my recollection Langwidere rules Ev not Nazmyr!”

“I understand…”

“You understand nothing! I held a celebration specifically to introduce you to the people of Ev as my consort, and without a word of warning you have the audacity not to attend?! Get out!”

“Lang…”

“Never speak my name again! Remove yourself from my sight or I’ll have you horsewhipped! I’ll set the dogs on you!”

Langwidere turned her back to Nazmyr refusing to look at him. Nazmyr could not see her face but it was obvious that she was weeping.

Since verbal explanation was clearly a poor option at the moment, Nazmyr decided to let actions speak for themselves. He retrieved a small black velvet box from his pocket. He gently opened the lid to reveal the wonderment contained within. He took a deep breath, dropped to one knee, and patiently waited.  

Langwidere struggled to control her emotions. Sensing Nazmyr was still present, she quickly spun to unleash her fury upon him. She was taken off guard when she saw Nazmyr on bended knee offering her a brass ring intricately carved in fiery patterns. In the center of the ring was a dark red gemstone marbled with faint light-green veins haloed by with what could be only described as melted diamonds. Langwidere was caught up in a torrent of emotion and found herself unable to physically act or speak.

Nazmyr rose, freed the ring from its resting place, gently took her quivering hand, and placed it upon her finger. Langwidere noted that the metal was warm to the touch though not uncomfortably so. The stone seemed to burn and wave in the light like wind whispering over a low flame. The diamonds sparkled and moved as well giving the illusion of running water. Never had she beheld anything so beautiful.

“There are only 2 craftsmen in all the City of Brass who can properly work the Zuristone mined from the lava vents of the Plane of Molten Sky.” Nazmyr began. “I cannot excuse my poor planning. And I apologize for my absence and my lack of communication.”

Langwidere looked Nazmyr in the eye. He could see the tears streaming down her face, even though the mask.

“Please accept this gift as a sign of my affection. And when you look upon the ring, know you are in my thoughts always…even when we are apart.”

Langwidere was still flustered and said nothing.

Nazmyr gently removed Langwidere’s mask and wiped the tears from her cheeks. He moved to kiss her and she turned away.

‘No.” she said in pouty voice. “I’m still angry with you.”

“You are within your right. Let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Allow me to surprise you.”

Langwidere turned away from Nazmyr to be coy and noticed a large grey and white cat with rather long hair and a very ‘intelligent’ expression on her face sitting on the vanity chair. Langwidere immediately sneezed.

“Achoo! What is that?” She said with displeasure in her voice. “Achoo!”

“This is Shelsa.”

“You’ll have to get rid of it. I’m allergic to cats. Achoo!”

“I can’t get rid of it, she’s a familiar.”

“Achoo! Then make it go away!”

Before he could speak Nazmyr heard a disembodied voice in his head. “No need to say anything; I’ll excuse myself.” Said Shelsa. “You have your hands full with this one.”

Shelsa walked past Langwidere looking her in the eye as she left the room and decided she didn’t like her.

“Achoo! Filthy beast.” Said Langwidere as Shelsa made her exit. “I hope for your sake that was not the surprise you had in mind Nazmyr.”

Indeed it was not the surprise Nazmyr had in mind. Weeks before he returned to Langwidere, Nazmyr secretly arraigned a birthday ball for her. Invitations crafted of black wove paper, scripted with gold ink and decorated with elaborate calligraphy were hand delivered to every noble, politician, and important merchant within the kingdom. Later that day invited guests traveled the palace walk, passed through a gateway flanked by two marble pegasi, and onto the palace yard. The palace was surrounded by well-manicured grounds, full of flowers and trimmed shrubbery. Several tinkling marble fountains could be seen, and there were pleasant walks bordered by rows of white marble statuary. The walks were illuminated by the golden glow of paper lanterns which hung from expertly crafted iron rods. Servants dressed in black and gold stood at the ready bearing refreshments for the guests.

As the sun set the guests mingled on the palace yard sharing gossip and enjoying high-end beverages and expertly crafted hors d’oeuvres. As the last bit of sun vanished, pyrotechnics in all matter of shape, size and color exploded overhead startling some of the guests.

The guests stood and watched in awe as a hot air balloon illuminated by the light of the pyrotechnics drifted into view. As the balloon drifted closer, four silken ropes were cast from the basket. As the balloon drifted closer still, acrobats assuming artistic poses slid down the ropes and anchored the balloon to the ground.

The Steward, clad in crimson and gold, addressed the crowd. “My Lords and Ladies, it is with great honor that I present to you, her majesty, the Lady Ev, and her consort, Lord Nazmry Vandree!”

Two footmen lowered the gangplank-type door and Langwidere and Nazmyr exited the basket.

Nazmyr, who was dressed in his finest cloths, also wore a mask, as a sign of unity with Langwidere. Hand in hand the pair stepped forward and Nazmyr addressed the crowd.

“Welcome!” he shouted.

The pair then turned and retired to the palace signaling that the guests are to do the same.

The doormen bowed with dignity as the guests walked past the ceremonial guards outfitted in full-dress uniforms and into the Grand Entrance Hall.

Servants dressed in black and gold stood with silver trays supporting magnums of champagne for the guests.

A score of musicians in full court regalia took their places in the Grand Hallway.

The Chamberlain, clad in blue and gold, marched in holding a large golden rod topped with the royal crest. He stopped, purposefully looked around, and banged the rod three times upon the floor which echoed clearly and resoundingly throughout the hall.

“My Lords and Ladies…the Royal March!” Chamberlain announced.

The band struck up with a vigorous play of song. Everyone halted their conversations and watched. When the last refrains of the song died out the Chamberlain banged the rod three times upon the floor and announced “My Lords and Ladies…The Receiving Line!”

The guests were funneled through the Receiving Line towards the Grand Dining Room.

The Chamberlain was at the forefront of The Receiving Line announcing the next guest.

“The Right Honorable Dabron Sashen, Master of the League of Merchants.”

Dabron bowed “Your Majesty, it is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

“And yours as well. Thank you for coming to my birthday celebration. Have I had the pleasure of meeting you previously?”

“Your Majesty, I have not had the honor of meeting you previously. I’m Dabron Sashen, Master of the League of Merchants.”

“May I present my consort, Lord Nazmyr Vandree.”

“’Tis a pleasure.” Said Nazmyr.

“The pleasure is mine, Lord Vandree. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for some time.”

“Oh?”

“Much has been spoken of you. We are indebted to you… for the rescue of our queen. The people of Ev shall never forget you.”

“Please, sir, it was nothing. I am sure that within a month, you will not even remember my name.” Nazmyr quipped.

Dabron bowed. “Not likely my Lord. Thank you for thinking of me.”

He then addressed Langwidere “Happy birthday.”

The Chamberlain marched into the Grand Dining Room. He again purposefully looked around the room, and banged the rod three times upon the floor.

“My Lords and Ladies…Dinner is served!”

The guests found their seats among the sea of tables filled with decadence. Before the guests began their meals, Nazmyr rose with a magnum of champagne in hand and raised it to the center of the room.

“My Lords and Ladies! I wish to make a toast!”

The guests fell silent and raised their glasses.

Addressing the guests Nazmyr said “Lady Ev has made far too much of the assistance I gave her at the armory. When I arrived, I watched as the criminals, point a smoke powder pistols at her and threatened to end her life.”

Some of the guests gasped in disbelief.

“Lady Ev’s reply to all this was…”Do your worst.”

Some of the guests murmured in approval.

Nazmyr turn toward Langwidere and looked her into her eyes.

“Life is a storm, my love. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a queen…is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout, as you did at the armory, “Do your worst…for I will do mine.” Then the fates will know you as we know you, as Lady Ev, the Queen.”