The Real Theophania
vol. II ch. 8
This sprinted across the corridor, landing with a thud next to Ophius, already hunkered down to the next piece of cover – a broken down cart, that maybe held coal or iron ore in years past. Projectiles howled down the shaft, throwing up clouds of black dust in her footsteps.
Ophius was busy aggressively fiddling with magic. One hand dug around the pile of rubble, the other traced a geometrical pattern in the air. The patterns of their fingertips was reflected through the whole room, like the iridescent cobwebs of a giant spider. The strands suddenly coalesced into the image of a massive, holographic centaur storming down the narrow hall. Shouts of warning echoed from the down the passage, followed shortly by clatters of armed and armored men diving for cover. This was followed by shouts of dismay from the men who failed to make it out of the way of the charging beast, followed again by shouts of confused relief as the illusion failed to actually trample them to death.
“Just the distraction I needed.” Ophius, now that the hail of shatterbolts and magic missiles had stopped, reached in with both hands and pulled out a battered bullseye lantern from the rubbish. Instead of a candle holder or oil wick, there was a single, delicately carved copper flower, traces of canary yellow paint still clinging to it in places. “This was a mine,” Ophius began explaining to Thia, “and in the old days, miners carried canaries into the depths with them. The birds were more susceptible to toxic gasses, so if a canary fell unconscious, they would know that bad air was seeping in, and they would need to evacuate the tunnel.”
“Yeah. I know. My father worked the mines.” demured Thia, as if desperate to establish her working class background, despite literally being royalty.
“Your father owned mines. Sometimes he went down to inspect miners.” Ophius toggled some esoteric control on the apparent device. An ominous rumbling began deeper in the mine. “Anyway, when the old Wacites started digging in places without a good bird population, the magi had to come up with a magical solution. They remembered the canaries, though, and used it as standard symbol.” Ophius delivered a jolt of motive forced to the top of the “lantern”, and it sprang to life, humming, glyphs glowing. With an experimental jab or two, massive stone barriers rumbled down from the ceiling, cutting off the enemy, while others retracted from the walls, opening alternate passages.
“This way, princess.”
~~~
“Halt! These tunnels are subject to the authority of the Third Military District of the Subterranean Expeditionary Force! All travelers are subject to search and seizure at the discretion of military patrols! You will immediately stop and submit!” boomed the man with the second most ostentatious uniform.
Thia grimaced. Could they at least have been discovered 2 minutes later, when she wasn’t halfway through wading across this ankle-deep pool of mystery cave juice? Then again, they probably set the patrol right here on purpose.
Ophius, used to disguising their true form, had a deep cowl drawn across the head, and their face was not visible anyway, bathed in shadow as it was. Thia was not so lucky, and her face, striking as it was, drew the attention of the man in the first most ostentatious uniform.
“Now, now, my adjudant, no need to be so dramatic,” he purred, in the most outrageous accent, “I’m sure the fair lady has a perfectly legitimate reason to be traveling through an interdicted zone.”
“Yes, your highness, but we need to search those bags for smuggled goods. We have orders from General Hin-” the adjutant protested.
“Quiet, Mr Myers! I know what General Hindigs were! He gives those orders on my authority! I am Prince of the Fourth Circle, Heir to the Seal of Stone! Lord of the Depths, son of the Great Otorious Theanaopolous von A’ctelios the Third! My orders supercede all other orders-” Thia tuned out the prince’s tantrum. At least she wasn’t going to have to explain away the seven million gold they were smuggling, but she was going to have to deal with being courted by this idiot.
~~~
Thia pretended to take in interest in the decorative crystal acorns on the vanity. Prince von A’ctelios was behind the modesty screen, fixing his hair or his ridiculous velvet doublet or something. He was yammering off about how they would look stunning at the ball tonight, now that Thia had finally acquiesced to accompanying him. Apparently, “Countess Nirva Soryu, who foolishly rejected me” was going to be “absolutely devastated by being outshone by a mere peasant” like Thia. They were going to be “absolutely crushing” tonight.
Thia had only agreed on the condition that her “personal assistant” with a “crippling shyness” and “Venetian Leprosy – it’s non contagious if you let use the ointments, but don’t try to take the robes and mask off” be released from prison, and be let in the attached servant’s quarters.
Thia picked up a heavy crystal acorn and rolled it in her hands. She fiddled with the translucent straps of the scandalously low-cut (and similarly high-cut slit at the bottom) Underdark spidersilk gown she had been provided and asked to wear. In preparation for this soiree, Thia had been bathed by handmaidens like a pampered princess – an annoyance she hadn’t experienced since fleeing the old country. She had already made up her mind what she was going to do to the prince for making her repeat it.
“Everything all right?” he suddenly asked, noticing her lack of reply, as This quietly crept up behind him. Then she loudly slapped him in the back of the head, crushing the crystal acorn against his thick skull. Her captor-suitor passed out cold, crumpled to the floor like a prehistoric megafauna falling into a peat bog.
“I’m royalty, too, you know.” Thia murmured, petulantly, “Princess of these hands. Bitch.”
~~~
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