3

The world looked much different at the edge of the cliff. 

For one, at the edge, it stopped looking like a flat expanse with a few shadows and became a massive landscape of steep cliffs that fell thousands of feet, leaving gorges so deep she could barely make out the rivers that ran along the bottom and left a few pillar-like mountains that stood alone among the crisscrossing veins.

A few stubby plants grew in the cracks in the rock but nowhere near what should have been with the amount of water in the rivers below. It almost reminded her of the epic fjords in the lands near the fabled White City far in the south, but it lacked the roar that came with those waters and the greenery that was the stuff of fables.

Not even its namesake red flower grew here anymore.

This land was cast in shades of grey and black under a matching sky. 

The only spot of color was the military estate below her. At the cliff's edge, she could finally see it.

The heart of the Camelia was a sprawling fortress built across several of the deepest gorges and along several cliff faces. It was a miniature city, spiraling outward from the huge keep that housed several impressive buildings and a large courtyard. Dozens of gatehouses, guard towers, and battlements guaranteed that any attacker would bleed themselves dry trying to take the entire place.

A series of short stone bridges and longer wood and rope bridges connected all the separate smaller castles with one another and the heart in the center.

All the buildings were made with black volcanic stone, as dramatic as their design, with hauntingly tall towers and looming xie-shan-style roofs that draped far beyond the walls. Like the fancy umbrellas that had been all the rage in the capital a decade ago. All the roofs were a faded red that had probably been stunning once upon a time.

How utterly and pointlessly dramatic, Eirian thought. Whoever designed it had been painfully obvious that they were trying to make a point.

There was one interesting thing, though. 

The same miasma that lingered on the guards and maids hung over the entire fortress. So thick and heavy it looked like a layer of molasses covering everything. The smaller buildings and courtyards were impossible to see through.

There was a sickness here, she realized. A poison that was slowly sinking into every stone, every tile, every person. She'd never seen a poisoning this strong or one that was dense enough to infect the very foundations of a building. 

Was it even possible to heal this level of infection? Could any of the buildings even be salvaged?

Could any of the people?

She glanced back and started. They were all staring at her, still in formation, with hopeful smiles on their faces. 

"What do you think, Milady?" The dour maid beamed, and it looked out of place on her, "Is the Camelia not the most beautiful place you've ever seen?"

Had the poison driven them mad?

Did....did they even realize it was there?

How could they miss it?

But they were still staring at her, still waiting for her to speak, to agree no less. 

Like some cult.

If the common maids and guards were like this, what shape was her future husband in?

Eirian could fight off the poison. Her magic was first rate and she worked on it constantly. Next to the bow and her horsemanship it was her best form in combat.

Although she wasn't bad with a sword either. The upside of a father who'd desperately wanted a son.

She'd been expecting to have to fight for her life here. Granted, in a social standing matter, not an actual fight.

Though...she had considered killing her to-be husband on their wedding night.

Maybe it would be less of a survival killing and more of a mercy killing. This kind of poisoning probably couldn't be cured anyway.

And then Eirian wouldn't have to worry about whatever it was that had kept her husband single this long.

...She'd be stuck with this place.

...By herself.

Maybe she wouldn't kill him immediately. At least, not until she'd gotten a handle on the place or figured out if it was even salvageable. He had to know about the poison. Where did it come from? What was it exactly? Why it was there?

Who was responsible? Because that would explain the rest, wouldn't it? 

What was the point of such a long-term poisoning? Besides complete annihilation, anyway.

"Milady?"

Eirian sighed. She needed more information, but at least this would be a nice distraction from all her other problems. "Fine. I mean, it's...nice."

They beamed. So eager to please. 

"Let's go. I'd like to see it up close."

"Of course!" One of the guards rushed to brush a peddle off the carpet, another to open the door for her, but Eirian wasn't getting back in that uncomfortable thing on pain of death.

The road led down the cliff side to one of the stone bridges leading to a smaller castle and gatehouse. Meant to serve as a guard for the main castle, but it was all close enough that she could stretch her legs. Get a close-up look at the palace and the poison.

She started walking and listened with half an ear to the commotion behind her as they scrambled to adapt to her suffen change of plans.

What was the lord of this place like? The people of the Camelia were mixed breed. The Land of Sorrow produced tall, fair haired people, broad in the shoulders and hips. Eirian was on the shorter side at only five foot four, but she had pale blond hair and the fair skin of her people.

Speaking of which, the gloom here certainly wasn't going to help her complexion. It was good thing she hadn't skimped on bringing all her beauty products. 

The people of the Land of Song and Snow were petit compared to her own. Often with dark hair and matching almond shaped eyes. They were generally shorter, so maybe Eirian would be the tall one for once. 

That would actually be nice. She'd hated being short as a child, and while she'd accepted being petit as an adult, it had always been a disadvantage. Especially when so many of her hobbies were combat related. 

Was he the typical sotic man of Snow and Song?

....No, no he wasn't.

~ tbc