Dax looked up at the stars from the Great Ballroom. He didn’t actually remember it ever being a ballroom, but that wasn’t to imply any less greatness.
The deco was sweeping organic-style pillars and arches, the banquet table was finest rose-wood. He would, in the interest of fairness, entertain that it had seen better days, but it was still a chamber fit to host the nobles of the courts. At least, that’s what he’d heard, in truth he knew a great deal about the past, but only that which was written down, and therefore only that which had survived what the child-races had done to the world. What they’ed done… what they’ed done to his people, the Broken Ones… he didn’t know how he could forgive them.
Yet he must. Or at least set aside his grievances.
He looked at the charts again, there was no doubt, two new stars had appeared in the constellation of the Scythe of Luen his mission was clear… For a moment he chuckled: A hundred years ago, when he was still suffering, he would have mocked the truth of the stars, but now his mind was clear, now his mind was powerful, he knew what the signs meant.
Reaching out his right hand a golden cup slid across the lacquered table and slipped into his hand. He sipped. He was pleased, his mind was sharper than any of his people when they had had the easy life.
His recovery, his self-training almost made up for what he’d lost, what they’d all lost.
The water was fresh, cool. The wells inside the Ancient Forum where still unpolluted by the efforts of the child-races. He couldn’t always count on this though, he was the last guardian of his city, and now he had to leave it. The stars were not wrong, there was a wielder of the old power that he had to meet, had to protect.
The stars were not wrong, but it did mean leaving his city, leaving it unguarded save for the camouflage spells that still lingered around the old stone work… the only thing that had kept the child-races from poking where they had no right.
So he must follow this man, to a child-race city…
The man is a user… (he could feel his nerves itch at the thought, he could never escape, he could never escape it, it was the nature of his being). That would bring problems. He needed focus.
Dax left his ancient home, for the lands of beggars, tyrants, and defilers… the best the child-races had to offer the world.