Legend of Ransera

"Thank you for coming," Sivan said quietly, bowing to the envoy from the seas. He indicated the Neptori should walk with him. "I do apologize for the delay. The Masters declared I should be the one to oversee the work as I was the one who brought your commission to them, and I have not been able to spend all my time here in Silfanore. Duty calls in Kalzasi. But I hope you will be happy with the results and feel as though your patience has been rewarded."

Tavárinoikos was fine and spacious, everything well made from the best materials, but it was no palace. It was a workshop. They received nods or bows as they passed people in the halls, depending upon the relative ranks of those walking it. They were too polite to stare, of course, and yet Sivan was much more comfortable in the small room where he was to reveal the work and ensure the client was pleased with it.

The room was largely bare, with only a high table in the center, the long shape of the trident shrouded by spider silk.

"Pardon. They do like a bit of theater with these presentations."

The elf drew the silk aside to reveal an elegant, silvery trident.

"The dimensions are to your specifications," he supplied, indicating he should pick it up if he wished get a sense for its balance. "The haft was forged with an alchemically synthesized metal. It looks no different from the metal of the tines and is, for all intents and purposes but one, quite the same. It will, however, be much easier to hold then metal—while wet or dry—without the need of pruning skin." With a shy smile he held up his hands—not pruning now—as he had in the ambassador's home to show him how the land-dwelling elves' bodies reacted to long soaks in water.

Sivan admired the thing. He hadn't made it, though he had been on hand to oversee Torin's work in that regard, though he had helped to prepare that special metal for the haft. It was the other magic within it that owed itself to Sivan's mastery, and he waited for Tyrann to approve of its physical features before he went into how he had answered the call to 'surprise me.' The ambassador, a fellow Sembler, might suss out the intricacies of its enchantments given time, but it was easier just to explain, to give him context so he could understand it better via his Rune.

"You strike me as one who appreciates being well-placed, theatrical, and appreciated," Sivan replied quickly, but quietly. It was a little show of temerity, perhaps, but he didn't say it unkindly.

Instead, he remained on the other side of the display table to watch Tyrann wax martial. He didn't try to hide his admiration; Tyrann was one who appreciated being admired. It was also gratifying to see one's work wielded by a talented and skillful person. The skintight bodysuit suited him; he wondered if it was armor was well as clothing. He and Torin had discussed what a Neptori's armor might entail, and they had agreed immediately and unanimously that it was all likely based on scales, though there were other creatures in the deeps who relied on tough skin rather than scales: sharks, for example.

"Of the first, of the landed combat, certainly. Of the rest... well, I did quite a bit of research into hydrodynamics, spoke to people who yet fish with spears and harpoons. But that is boring for you, I'm certain. We might not match a Neptori artisan there, but there are other elements we have bound magically into it.

"When you are ready." There was a little upward lilt. It was a question, though he didn't press.

Sivan would happily watch him practice his forms, would even call water spirits to humidify the room and bring it somewhere closer to a happier medium for their divers physiologies. But he was also eager to show off what had been more his work than others'. His alchemical contributions to the runeforging process notwithstanding, the trident held powerful, adaptable secrets that he would have to unlock for the tidelord.

Sivan nodded. "Pardon."

The elf gently took the trident back into his careful hands, turned it between them with a deftness that probably meant he had grown accustomed to its heft himself, and gathered the aether to him.

"Eutríaina, ĭdoû."

Aether manifested into a complex array of scrivening, now blue, now green, now silver coruscating. He released the trident and it hung in the air of its own power.

We are here.

"My lord Tyrann, these are Eutriaina. They were the guardian spirit of a freshwater spring that let out into the sea near Limánia. That spring ran out due to natural causes, but Eutriaina did not want to have their identity dissolve. I offered them an alternative, and they will serve you faithfully. They are now... hm... the ghost of a spirit, housed in fine metal. They are still learning their power in this form, and there is room for growth. They will speed your trident through water as though it were air. Drag will mean little. It will seek your hand again if you throw it.

We are solid as ice, but will not shatter. A tinny sort of laughter sounded as if this were the most amusing thing for the spirit; Sivan smiled, but then he was used to wild spirits.

"The two of you might find some creative uses for their power while in the open air as well," Sivan supplied. "Rather than enchanting specific powers into it with the runeforgers, I elected to create something unique. It will grow with you. There is one caveat, however. If you accept this, I require your promise to look after Eutriaina and find them a new bearer who will do the same if you ever decide to let them go. Tavárinoikos accepts your payment and you will have a fine trident one way or another, but there is this ethical question for this particular artefact."

His smile was gentle, as though he deemed Tyrann's goodness to be established and this a mere formality.

A part of Sivan was horrified that anyone would entertain the idea that he would mistreat, let alone enslave, a spirit. Even when dealing with infernal spirits, he tried to respect their autonomy and focus only on keeping his own—they were known for attempting to trick a summoner out of their soul or even just out of their body. Lady Kala had a strange case similar to that in her entourage these days.

Another part of Sivan was pleased that Tyrann's first reaction was this.

I am old, friend-of-Sivan, the spirit assured him, and I danced with the spirits of the sea for longer than... well, time doesn't mean the same to me as it does to you and to Sivan. I would have dissolved into Her. I might yet still. But I wanted to remain me. Sivan and his tribe made this body for me. He knew I wanted more and told me he was making a companion for one of his kin who love the water. I chose this. I choose this. And if I tire of adventure...

"Then I or another competent summoner can release you to take nature's course," he assured Eutrainia and Tyrann both.

Sivan had been surprised to encounter the spirit while walking on the beach near Limánia one night. So old, so complex, and more powerful than one might expect for guarding a relatively minor spring, Eutraina didn't need Sivan's garden to grow. They had wrestled with the sea for ages, since the world had cracked and Limánia had become a seaside port. The world had helped them grow through change and adversity.

If you don't like me, Sivan can release me and find another spirit to live in the trident for a while.

"Yes," Sivan affirmed. "The enchantments allow the trident to house a spirit; but the spirit isn't bound forever. It isn't truly bound at all. Eutraina could abandon it at will should their bearer abuse them; it would just be easier if I were there to help them along, especially if they don't want to deteriorate or bond to the nearest body of water needing a guardian spirit. Truly, it was not my intention to offend. I had thought your needs and Eutraina's needs were happily overlapping..."

While his bow was slight, his wardrobe malfunction occurred all the same. A red gem swung out on its chain and, as it swung between them, its light pulsed almost like a heartbeat, glowing the brighter at one end of of its pendulous swing than the other.

Perhaps it had a mind of its own, reaching out for what it was keyed to. It glowed the brighter when it swung away from Tyrann, whether he noticed it or not.

Sivan didn't seem to notice that, though he noticed the shift in Tyrann's treatment of him. Pale gold cheeks flushed slightly, though not so ruddy as they had been when Tyrann tried to show him how to set water aboil.

"Not at all," he replied, nodding his head in respectful acknowledgement of the sentiment anyway. "Your concerns assure me that my estimation of your character was apt, and that Eutriaina will be in good hands. Quite literally." He smiled, the playful little joke a sign that he was growing more comfortable with the aquatic elf than before. "That's pretty," he said of the gem. Red seemed a counterintuitive color for the sea elf, though Sivan knew there were bright corals and fish far below the surface of the sea, as well.

Blood, Eutriaina murmured to themselves, apropos of nothing to Sivan's perspective, You are even more full of Water than is Sivan-elf.

It seemed Tyrann was done with his more dangerous examinations of the work, and so Sivan came around from the other side of the table to stand at a more comfortable distance. The gem glowed more brightly as Sivan approached, and perhaps it was warmer. Perhaps it thumped against Tyrann's pale skin as if with its own heartbeat.