Royal Family of Ravel

Royal Family of Ravel

The history of Ravel, is indeed, unknown to most travelers. It's borders are long and thin, and it's capital, a city of slowly diminishing prestige and honor, is the last remnant of an age past. At present, King Kysar Tandriare sits on the golden throne of Ravel. It was written, that the Tandriare family was one of the first to conquer the lands of north and south across the sea. They had the misfortune of landing in the center of what would become two powerful nations. To the North, stood the Confederacy of Savaris, and to the south, the Empire of Nadyrimi. In order to keep his wealth, the previous king of Ravel had sold much of his land and people. When Kysar took the throne, many were lost in a chaotic frenzy. They were quickly losing power, trying to act as the go-between for Savaris and Nadyrimi land trade. The forests were gone. The land was being swallowed up the southern deserts. All they had left it seemed were wastelands and mountains. 

Kysar: The sun shines, but I am still troubled. Call in those of the court next door. I think it is time we give them due council, as I have yet to regain the trust my father foolishly lost. What is the right way for a king to serve his own? With fear? Nay, I think not. The peasant stick may be soft, but a thousand needles could easily kill a man, no matter the fashion of his throne. Why, if not for the seven battles I fought in the last Nadyrimi war, I'd be a dead king. 

L'andra: My noble lord, you must know, it was the father of that Mercelis girl, who served that vile court. In the darkest hour my family did face, that madman burned them with a turquoise fire, and only I did survive. 

Kysar: Then who can save my kingdom? If it is even that! Pah! Servant! Call whoever will come, but if it the Mercelis girl, let her stay. Perhaps they can divine something those priests cannot. 

Servant: As your will commands my lord. 

L'andra: I will keep my eyes trained on them my love. I trust you, but them I do not. 

Kysar: Fair, fair wife of mine... we know not where Kajika had fled, when he had gone mad from some toxin, and set his fire upon my city. But I fear we'll be served upon Nadyrimi spikes, as they are quite bitter from our bickering wars...ah...here appears a pair of young faces. 

Following behind the servant, and coming into the golden palace, is the two magicians, Tae and Vae, dressed in their usual robes, and bearing their same insignia [the bird perched upon the anchor]. Upon coming before the king, they bow deeply.

Tae: We are honored that you have called upon our order, my lord, for we have heard of what the previous proctor of our art, had done to the lady queen. We can only assure you that we are of a more gentler sort. 

Kysar: Very good to hear! Though I confess, you are not the gray-bearded wisdom I was hoping to meet in dire council. Who are you called? I've only heard the name of Ursula Mercelis, the daughter of that dark sorcerer. 

Tae: I am Tae, and this, is my younger sister Vae, daughters of Saselan and Patrica Demare formerly of the Jahara. 

Kysar: Ah, the same Jaraha I know, to be the minister Adator, who watches over my city as a quirky owl, but still his wisdom is one that has kept our treasury sound since he nested here. Are you of his kin too, then? 

Tae: Yes, my lord, our uncle is he. 

Kysar: Does not your sister speak? Why does she smile so? 

Tae: My lord, my sister has a sharp tongue, I thought it best she stay silent while in your presence, lest she causes some offense, and is punished. 

Kysar: Are all Jahara's quirks? If your king commands it, would you speak? 

Vae: Indeed, my lord, I would not deny you such a request.

Kysar: Very good then. Tell me how to save my kingdom! What magic can be spun that would reverse this slow spiral of death? What wisdom can you share, that my priests and advisers may shy from? Already we've tried our hand at trade: the Nadyrimi refuse out of anger, and Savaris is so self-sufficient, it hardly wants to pass any goods through our door without us paying them! 

Tae: With all due respect my lord, there is little the magician's court can do. Our funds have all but dried up, and you are not the only nation who has endorsed such magic. From Nyveressa and Lylamor, those of our trade have been hunted, but still in Morsala and Nadyrimi do such crafts they practice. 

Vae: If we were, with Morsala a joint guild invest, ties between Savaris and Ravel would grow. 

Kysar: I am glad you speak, but it sounds costly, how would we maintain such a bond? It sounds less of magic, and more of politics, I have other advisers for that! 

Tae: With some gold, and new practitioners, more powerful magic we could create, my lord. 

L'andra: Your funds have gone dry on it's unpredictability. Kajika went unopposed, and even still lives. Who knows what madness could take you in your dark work! The funds we barely make, would simply go to waste. 

Vae: And fair queen, in the future, Ravel will be without magic entirely, and Morsala, your ready neighbor will be the capital of such arts. 

L'andra: A good riddance! 

Vae: It would be so, until Morsala invades, or perchance, to enter Nadyrimi at least, to destroy their competitor's reign. 

Kysar: It is roguish for you to so blatantly ask for the gold of Ravel. Out with you, unless you have something of lasting effect to state!

Tae: If it please you, my lord, a spell I know, that could aid Ravel's poor state. 

Kysar: Of what nature? 

Tae: Regretfully, it is one of war my lord. 

Kysar: Be that as it may, I will call upon you again, to see the growth of it. Now, farewell, farewell. 

Tae: I take my leave.

Vae: As do I. 

The two magicians swiftly exit the palace, leaving the aging king and his wife along. 

L'andra: That little one troubles me. 

Kysar: A little runt, but a sharp mind. Ah, our children. Fair Edina, and strong Mark! 

Escorted by a group of guards, the prince and princess of Ravel come before the king and queen.

Mark: Father, word from the forest's edge. The sands are moving. 

Kysar: What... devilry looms on the edge of my vision...

Edina: Father, to the ships must I go? 

L'andra: Yes, my daughter, you must sail to Lylamor to see their lords and mistresses, so we may befriend them.

Edina: Why does Mark not go? 

Kysar: My sweet flower, your brother is captain of our standing army. If he leaves, who knows what will happen to Ravel? 

Mark: You give me too much credit father. I dare not pry, but was it not two magicians you spoke of just now? 

Kysar: Indeed, my son. What it will wrought, I have yet to see. 

L'andra: Darkness is coming swiftly. I pray, at least, that my children will bear long lives. 

And so, the court goes on. The news Mark has brought is a common phrase for those of Ravel. During the many skirmishes with Nadyrimi, "the sands are moving" described the way in which their desert horses kicked up the sand in the air. A sign of a battle soon to come. While the southern empire has yet to declare war, trouble is sure to come. 

And for the future, the young princess Edina, is being sent to Lylamor on a diplomatic mission. For now, the pyre burning is simply forgotten.