A/N: We’re back now, to after Sevra/Nohre/Zyris have left the Exclave.
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In the middle of a certain territory’s growing city, a bit too far away from the rail station to be practical for sending people out *frequently*... a squared timber and iron bracketed monstrosity rose sixty feet into the air. This rolling, siege tower-looking scaffolding was being used entirely in the construction of a sort of unique place.
Conversations with her daughter had given way for Yatrel to allow herself to be a bit more unburdened by conventions and use so of the ideas she’d always had in her head - from studying both modern fort construction practices and historical accounts on the nature of building over the ages. Thick walls felt like containnt and imprisonnt, which wasn’t what anyone wanted after the Descents ended.
The Clearer Skies Society headquarters had thus progressed from a four acre square plot of granted land to an excavation into the ground for laying a foundation for a tiered plaza structure. From a ribbed skeleton of sigil-carved stone pillars and arches over that pit in the past months to an in-progress span of glass flesh overhead. Qatrand gil Yecine walked the periter of one of the fanciest workings in her holding with a guest. One she hadn’t necessarily expected to see again after the war.
"The design is unusual. For a Guild headquarters."
Salghis er Nalbet spoke the phrases without judgnt, rely noting what his eyes and experience told him. The building didn’t follow the standard template at all. The bulk of the place was clearly for inviting crowds of entertainnt seekers, not just mbers of the Society. The tiered seating even faced a *stage* below!
No fortified walls or large imposing gate or door ant to broadcast strength. It was open and airy - and clearly intended to stay that way. The only deviation on that front was the structural elents in place for the yet to be built large infirmary and equal-sized private quarter wings, both spread in a V shape on the far end of the viewing area and sure to be impressive sub-buildings all their own.
"My mother-in-law wanted sothing that felt welcoming to her visitors. That way anyone seeking healing and stuck in one of those rooms would get to see the energy of life down here on display."
"It does seem to be welcoming. Or it will, when it doesn’t look like a series of construction hazards. I’m surprised those mortals are willing to walk those scaffold planks. They must span twenty feet."
The forr guild leader of the Saltfire Storm Alliance moved carefully as they walked, his left arm held a bit closer to his body than the right. Years had passed since the forr Yecine had seen the man carried through fortress gates on a stretcher, but the damage done by the artifact he’d been taken down with had never fully nded. So injuries simply beca part of a person, marking where life had tried to break them.
Though Qat had a feeling the reason he wanted to see this place might have sothing to do with a rumor already spreading, about a cultivator who had a power to do more than give advice and prepare dicines that may solve a problem over years. While the swordswoman wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not on the part of the Da Goltbred, the woman hadn’t shied away from those rumors regarding Nohre either.
’Openly admitting to anyone who asked that such a person was one of their founding mbers is... one way to handle it.’
The man’s young face had aged more than the years between should have accounted for. Leading an organization through expansion, schism, and violent collapse would do that, Qat felt - and considered herself lucky that she only had one of those three under her belt so far. Watching everything you’d built be disbanded to escape the stain of what others had done with it likely added even more stress.
"I received a letter last week. Informing that a mber of the Nalbet family had sent in docunts on my behalf, to the Continental Council."
Qatrand spoke as they rounded the corner of the stage down below the city surface, toward where a group of mortals were mixing mortar to be carted away for an entirely unrelated project happening nearby. A younger man - one of the territory’s residents who’d shown aptitude with masonry and beca one of the Society’s early non-cultivator mbers - supervised the composition of the substance with a hawk-like gaze, ensuring the mix wouldn’t crack without reason and give the Guild a bad reputation.
’Even though they are providing it at material cost, to build good will. I’d love to be told my citizens found the heart to complain. By and large they have been so... good. It almost makes crave a crisis to handle.’
Part of it was her wife’s stories, part was her own experience as a pawn in a subfaction’s plot. Yet, everything going mostly right without any signs of dissidents starting to rally together was almost off-putting. The calm at tis felt false to the blonde woman.
"I sent it as soon as I heard. That your personal petition for the claim of our old territory was actually being considered by the Council. It has a short mory, sotis, for who actually deserves things. Versus who simply wants it."
"You think that your voice carries weight with them still to affect the process?"
The question could have been seen as cruel, though she hadn’t ant it that way - and from the wry curve at the edge of his mouth, he understood that much. The younger woman was rely asking if his *bit* of effort might give her better odds. In the way soone who wanted sothing dearly but was trying to contain their enthusiasm held about them.
"The Saltfire na is now as good as mud, but the Nalbet family predates it by generations. My grandfather sat on the Council fifty years ago representing the consolidated martial guilds of the northwest mountain chain. They’ll at least read a letter with *that* seal, even if they take the contents with suspicion because Salghis himself is now synonymous with failure and a bad eye for people."
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