Nayl’s voice is a trumpet, a blaring noise that carries on the salty wind. It dives down the cliffside, echoes along the walls of the caves, and spans out across the sand dunes lining the borders of their home. The sound of beckoning reaches the corners of Nerine, summoning all of them to the local place of the beach, an area that so many wander along when the trail of their minds reach otherworldly reaches. It’s here that one may lose themselves to the lull of the waves and the seagulls, where all you are surrounded with is the tranquility of the world.
With the arrival of autumn, there is a cool bitterness in the air. It cuts along Nayl’s skin like razors, and she peers down to Castile to see how he has adapted to both climate and life. The boy is seemingly unfazed, his mismatched eyes tracing along the glittering ocean waves to the horizon as it paints the sky with colors of fire. A gentle nose glides along the top of his head and he looks up at mother, but otherwise remains quiet, knowing well that mother cannot coddle him as she settles that crown delicately upon her head once more.
As they arrive, one by one, the boy nearly joins them in their ranks until Nayl keeps him at her side, a mirror image of herself with pride gleaming in her fiery eyes.
”It has been a while,” she admits coolly, but this isn’t a bad thing. She doesn’t pester them with monthly meetings filled with babble and uselessness. Instead, Nayl has bided her time until there was enough to share, enough to address among them. Finally, it has happened and her thoughts have gathered.
”I never addressed new members as there have been many, just as there have been many of the originals that have since vanished,” she trails off very briefly as she considers Naga, Lagertha, Sunday, and the rest. ”As far as females go, there is Carwyn, Cassady, Heartfire, Marjorie, Neoma, and Lumi. In regards to males, there is Brennen and Orion’s Belt.” A smile slips across her velvety lips, but then she glides along like an ice skater, her voice fluid and effortless. ”I also never officially told you all that we have a subkingdom of sorts. A couple years ago, Djinni peacefully overtook Sylva in the name of Nerine. They needed a leader and she has thus proven to be a strong one, alongside our very own Stillwater.” His name is bitter on her tongue, but she doesn’t allow it to stop her or to create pause and question. ”Other than that, we’ve yet to officially create any diplomacy among the other lands. If you haven’t yet visited the other lands, I recommend you do so; you need to acclimate yourself to your surroundings and home. Do not offer any alliances; simply learn what you can and see what lies outside of Nerine’s walls.”
That had been her initial assignment for herself upon ascending the throne. Nayl paid every land a visit, introduced herself, and drank the information she was offered – desperate to learn. Things have since changed (she thinks of Magnus seemingly stepping away from his throne) but she doesn’t tell them this; she encourages their minds to hungrily reach out to learn just as hers had.
”Now, ranks.” A coy grin tips up the corners of her mouth, her eyes slowly blinking underneath a veil of forelock that cascades down her pretty face. ”Djinni, as you know, is our Mage. Additionally, she, along with Heartfire, have been promoted. What we originally had separated in different castes has now been combined. You will gain rank through any means possible whether that is fighting, stealing, recruiting, gaining information of past and/or present, or simply being an active part in Nerine’s welfare. All efforts will be rewarded. With time and vigilance, it may earn you a place in a top tier; for the time being, they are named as the Militarist and Historian, but the title may change based on your strengths or preferences.” Their ranks aren’t carved into the cave walls; they are dynamic, changeable, moldable. ”Now, we also have a rank system for the stallions. There will be a top rank in which Lior now presides alone. Below him is Brennen.” Her eyes dart across their faces then down to the boy at her side. ”My son, Castile, and any son of Nerine that wishes to remain here will eventually find themselves in a rank as gladiator. It seems we’ve let stallions among us, but they do nothing. That changes. To stay, a brief fight will be had once every one or couple years. The stallions are a line of defense for Nerine; therefore, they, too, need to hone their skills. They will battle to determine who wins favor to remain here.” The idea itself intrigues her, her voice brimming with an inner fire.
”Is there further initiative or prize that you can think of? I was playing with the idea that after so many victories, you become a veteran and spared further fighting unless you choose to still take part.” The option of breeding rights had crossed her mind, but no one in Nerine is an object for sex – male or female – and so the idea quickly dissolved.
”Do you have questions or suggestions?” She finally asks them all, her gaze swiftly finding each of them.
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