The Mithril Count Part 2
Faenluna was the northernmost city in the Far Frozen North, well known for its remoteness. Said to be the crown of the world, it was also very well known among some people to be the place to be if you no longer had a place to be. Not even the King of Ammangoan bothered Faenluna, such was its remoteness. So of course a borderline insane Elven Count set up his cannon workshops there. Where else would he, after all? But even he knew it doesn't snow in summer, not even that far north, so imagine his surprise when Syndra arrived.
"Cithrel, do you have any idea where we can find our Count?" Syndra asked as they entered the city. "I'd rather not resort to asking around."
"Well, he technically rules the city, so the Civic Manor would be a good start." Cithrel offered, after thinking on it for a moment.
After some walking, the three of them arrived at the Civic Manor, the residence of the ruler of the city. Modest by human standards, it was a simple two story house in a secluded section of the city, with ornate fencing and gates, but no guards.
"No guards?" Syndra asked. "Intriguing."
"You've heard of the man. Does he seem like someone who needs guards?" Lhoris asked. Lhoris then pointed at the gigantic cannon on the balcony of the house. "Besides, he has that."
"Oh, I like him." Syndra said, smiling. The falling snow briefly intensified before calming back to the light flurries. "Let's go say hello to the Count."
Syndra walked up to the door of the manor, and was about to knock on it, when she paused. She had a gut feeling that she shouldn't touch the door directly. She motioned for Cithrel, and pointed at the door. Cithrel nodded, and tapped the door with an arrow, which promptly burst into flame in her hand.
"Paranoid as well." Syndra said, musing out loud. She hummed, until the door was frozen solid, then gave it a kick, causing it to shatter. "Paranoia is no match for determination."
Syndra stepped through the entryway, turned a corner, and came face to face with the Count.
"Oh, a visitor!" The Count said excitedly.
"I take it you weren't expecting guests, with that fire trap on the door?" Syndra asked, motioning towards the ice shards embedded in the wall.
"Oh, you got around the trap most splendidly!" The Count replied, laughing. "That alone earns you the right to a conversation! Come along!" The Count turned and began walking. Slightly confused, Syndra and the two Rangers followed him into his study, where he sat down and motioned for them to do the same on a couch.
"So, you've come all this way to Faenluna to see me, what can I do for you?" The Count asked, pouring himself a cup of tea.
"I'll be brief. I need your cannons, I've got a war to wage." Syndra said. "He's held my throne for long enough."
"Now pardon me for being rude but I'm not sure who you are."
"I didn't think you would, you're far too young. I am Syndra Valmaris, the Avalanche Princess."
"Don't be ridiculous, you're far too young to be her, besides, she's dead, right?" The Count said dismissively.
Syndra's emotions were already rising, this man was infuriating. A chill blew through the room as the snow outside picked up. This wasn't lost on Lhoris, who suddenly had an idea.
"You know the legend of the Avalanche Princess, right? Well, look outside, Count." He said, pointing at the window.
The Count turned and was shocked by the snowfall. He practically ran to the window, and saw a layer of snow already covering his manor grounds, with no signs of stopping. He turned back to the steadily angering Princess and bowed.
"I must apologize, your highness. It's far too easy to claim to be a myth, it's another thing to prove it. Give me a target and my cannons will turn it to rubble."
"Ammangoan Palace. Give that bastard nowhere to hide." Syndra answered, her fists clenched. "I was going to destroy it brick by brick anyway, no harm in getting started now." The snowfall outside was intensifying even further now, and the wind was slamming against the manor.
"Princess, please, calm yourself." Cithrel advised. "The storm's picking up."
Syndra nodded and closed her eyes. Slowly she breathed, in and out, for several minutes. The wind died away first, then the snowfall slowed, before turning to clearing skies and lightly falling snow.
"I'm sorry, Count. I must control my emotions to control my storm. The Chillwatch Rangers have already seen first hand what happens when I can't." Syndra said softly, almost musically.
"This is simply fascinating! Emotion Magic, first hand! Nobody's used this magic in millennia!" The Count said excitedly. "No, you needn't apologize, your highness. I'll get started on sighting my cannons immediately, this will be excellent work. To work for House Valmaris, on the name of my grandfather I will not disappoint you!"
Syndra smiled. The Mithril Count was perfect. Everything she hoped for and more. Even better, not a trace of the usurper's bloodline in him. She would have been deeply disappointed if she had been forced to kill him.
"The Mithril Count, when this is over, expect a generous contribution to your weapons development fund. This I promise as Princess-no, as Queen Valmaris." Syndra said, rising from the couch. "You remind me so much of him, you know?"
"Of who?" The Count asked, as Syndra began to leave.
"Your great-great uncle, of course. My husband. Prince Tarron of Faenluna."
For once, The Mithril Count didn't know what to say, and simply stared as Syndra and her two rangers left as quickly as they came.