Silvermere was a unique city settled by greedy gold hunters who had quickly departed the town because it contained "mere silver". Those of more civilized parentage had realized that silver, while not worth as much as gold, would still make them all quite rich. The city was known for its extravagances now, including, as a mockery to those who left, lampshades made of pure gold. The city guards were among the greatest and best paid in the world. There was no amount of bribery that could sway the elite fighting force, and because of this the city was most peaceful and crime free.
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Nyna'a knew she had to find a safe place to leave her vassals. But she was weary of running into locals as she searched. She found a semi-secluded place off the road and left them there in search of a more secure location. She circled around the city to the mountains where she discovered an abandoned silver mine. After making certain it was empty, she returned for her vassals. The closer she got the more she realized she had definitely left them in a bad spot. Log-lar had torn down three trees and the corpse of many small creatures littered the area. Barlo was holding on for dear life at the top of a fourth tree, Hoochie was hidden behind some rocks.
As Nyna'a came into the clearing Log-lar stopped shaking the tree, which contained Barlo, and like a child with his hand in a cookie jar, muttered, "Log-lar sorry."
Nyna'a took her vassals to the mineshaft and instructed Log-lar to protect Hoochie and Barlo, and to not kill them. She had seen in his mind he understood and would adhere to the rule.
Upon entering Silvermere, she immediately felt out of place. Although she was wearing the best clothing available to her, and the finest weapon, she felt impoverished. Others were wearing plate mail of silver encrusted with jewels. The women all wore fancy dresses and had their hair neatly fixed. She stood in awe at the majesty of it all...until something hit her helmet from behind. As she turned to look a rock flew over her head, narrowly missing. It was two young boys, fancily dressed and obviously full of themselves and their riches.
"No beggars allowed here!" the first said.
"Aye," the second agreed, "Back to the farms, peasant girl!" as he threw another rock.
A few nearby guards smirked at this behavior and did nothing.
The first boy was just about to throw his next rock when he suddenly fell to the ground, blood oozing from a fresh wound on his forehead. The second quickly joined him on the ground, clenching his belly and writhing in pain.
A voice came from the shadows, "Another victory for Mr. Manners!"
"You know," the third young man said as he stepped out of an ally, waving a slingshot over his head, "Had your parents done a bit better of job of teaching you respect, Mr. Manners here would not have anything at all to do."
The guards seemed completely oblivious to the action now. Almost purposely turning their backs.
The first two boys picked themselves up and scurried off, after first stopping to make a few idle threats to the third boy.
"My name is Pamich'a." the boy said, bowing towards Nyna'a.
"Those two were the sons of Miksu, a merchant who recently moved to Silvermere to try and seem more important. I don't much like them. Sons of the gold diggers from the way they act."
"And who are you to cause such havoc without calling the attention of the guards?" Nyna'a asked as she removed her helmet.
"Why, my father is captain of the guard, So I often..." Pamich's stopped in mid-sentence. The guards started towards the pair.
"You're beautiful..." he said.
"It's HER!" one guard said, "The last of her kind!"
"Please come with us," the other guard said as they each grabbed an arm and escorted her further into town.
"I don't understand! Where are you taking me? Why do you say I am the last of my kind?" Nyna'a asked as she struggled unsuccessfully to free her arm from their clutches.
"Unhand her!" Pamich'a ordered, standing up as tall as he could with his chest puffed out.
"Pamich'a," one of the guards grinned at him and ruffled Pamich'a's hair, "We looked the other way when you are tossing rocks at those rotten brats, but this is official business. Stand aside lad."
"I demand to know where you are taking her." Pamich'a barked.
"Well, if you must know," said the other guard, not amused at being bossed around by a child, "Your father has given us orders to bring her to him. Now begone boy, we've work to do."
"I'll just tag behind to ensure your safe passage oh beautiful one." Pamich'a said to Nyna'a with a small bow.
Nyna'a, who was beginning to realize that coming to town was a horrid mistake, whispered her thanks and cooperated with the guards as she was led towards an elaborate tower.
The captain of the guards, Pammanou, looked at the guards with confusion as they neared with a young woman and his son in tow. She looked like a farm girl, usually they caused no trouble. That it took two guards to escort one young woman was unheard of. As they approached, he glimpsed her eyes and he suddenly realized who she was.
"You men will be promoted for finding her! Excellent work!" He said as he rushed forward to meet them and examine the girl. He gently grabbed her chin and tilted it upwards. As the light hit her eyes they shone a deep purple with golden flecks. It was indeed a Trymool feature!
"Father, what is going on?" Pamich'a asked.
"Not now son, go help your mother collect water. Tell her we will have a great feast this eve." Pammanou absently said as he examined Nyna's eyes.
"His highness will be most pleased to see you m'lady." He said. He dismissed the guards with a gesture and led her by the elbow to a small velvet-lined chamber. Pammanou clapped his hands together loudly three times and the sound of giggling and light footsteps filled the room as a group of palace slave girls came running. They collectively gasped when they saw Nyna'a.
"That's right ladies, she is the last Trymool we've been seeking. His majesty will want to see her as soon as she is cleaned up. I want her bathed in the finest oils, the most expensive silks tailored to fit her, and have the cobbler make her a pair of wyvernhide sandals. Don't just stand there gaping, let's get a move on, there's much to be done."
As the slaves rushed towards her, Nyna'a drew her father's sword. "Not so fast. I want some answers, and I want them now." She posed in her most menacing stance, "What is a 'Trymool'? Who is 'his majesty'? And what's wrong with the way I'm dressed now? This is my mother's finest armor and I am offended that you find it unworthy. I am here seeking my destiny. I want no trouble, I've done nothing wrong."
Pammanou sighed heavily and motioned for the slave girls to sit on the floor.
"My apologies," he said, "I thought you knew...I thought that was why you came here. You are a Trymool. We discovered the graves of your parents when they didn't show up for a council meeting. Apparently, they've sheltered you from your heritage. And with good cause. You are the last Trymool known to be alive. His majesty, Proj-von, is king of not only Silvermere, but of all the surrounding lands as far as the eye can see. When he heard of you, and of your parents' unfortunate fate, he decreed to marry you so that his children may have your traits and inherit his throne." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, "Your appearance is fine for travelling the road, or for battling, but not for meeting your future husband. Please, allow us to treat you as the queen-to-be should be treated. This is your destiny."
"And if I refuse to marry him?" she responded, shrugging off his hand and backing towards the door.
This sent the slavegirls into a fit of whispering and a look of fear crossed their faces.
Pammanou's expression never changed as clapped his hands twice -- 10 guards appeared as if from thin air. He marched over and snatched the sword out of Nyna'a's hands.
"Guard this room men. No one in or out. Ladies, get to work." He slammed the thick metal doors shut from the outside and locked them with the large copper key that hung from his neck.