B3 Chapter 61: An Imperial Welcome

The trip through the woods didn’t take nearly as long as Tiberius expected. The Evergreen Seas were named such for a reason, and given the long seclusion of the elves, he’d assumed that their settlements would be nestled deep inside, where they would seldom be found by interlopers.

Apparently, that was not quite the case. Iladrien informed him that the hidden nature of the elves was not simply a matter of geography, but one of magic. Their civilization was surrounded by a powerful formation that made accidental discovery practically impossible. Even those who set out determined to find the legendary elven settlements would find themselves stymied at every turn, finding nothing but endless swaths of tall pines. If they were lucky. Those unlucky enough to somehow stumble or force past the enchantments would quickly find a quarrel of arrows buried within their chest.

Naturally, such protections could be waived in the case of the rare visitor that they deemed worthy of inviting inside—and the emperor of the Roman Empire certainly qualified for such an honor.

Tiberius and his guards strode through the shade-dappled forest. Before them, Iladrien’s entourage led the way and served as an honor guard. The diplomat had brought along a handful of his kinsmen to meet Tiberius at the forest’s edge, including ones specialized in moving through the forest. It was a talent common among elves, but these in particular were able to extend such abilities to others as well. The result was an even more expeditious trip as the trees themselves seemed to part before them. Tiberius appreciated the gesture, especially since he no longer shared the Legion’s impressive marching abilities.

Not long after setting out, Iladrien spoke from where he stood at Tiberius’s side. “It will not be far now. King Glendale and the Senate have been informed of your intent to visit, of course, and I suspect that they will meet your coming with the ceremony that it deserves. Although the short notice may render some of the festivities more meager than they would be otherwise. I hope that the emperor takes no offense.”

“I do not,” Tiberius said simply. In all honesty, he was rather pleased to hear it. Though pomp and circumstance were the unfortunate realities of his position, that didn’t mean he particularly reveled in them. Such things had the tendency to turn even a brief visit into a week-long affair of banquets and parades and meetings of foreign dignitaries. And currently, he simply did not have the time.

The elven envoy bowed his head. As promised, they reached the elven city of Flos Aeternus a few minutes later. But rather than appearing from out of the trees or amidst a large clearing, the scenery instead seamlessly transitioned from walls of broad trunks to ones that curved sinuously into buildings and towers. Ornate knotholes formed windows from which long-eared faces peeked out, while wide arches formed by intersecting roots and branches formed doorways and entrances. Entire rows of elegant pines reached toward the sky to support grand canopies above.

Despite the clear intention behind these buildings and their “construction,” it all still managed to look entirely natural, as though the trees had simply decided to grow in such a manner. And yet… the style was still strangely familiar. The more he looked, the more those canopies began to resemble massive pediments and carefully shaped domes sitting atop fluted pillars. Even the very leaves and vines that draped across every surface appeared too ornamental to be entirely natural, embellishments that melded perfectly into their environment yet were far too symmetrical and regular to have grown unguided.

The entire city boasted clear inspirations from Roman architecture. It was clearly foreign, not so striking as the constructions his own men had brought into this world in the towns and cities they’d conquered. Which made it all the more strange to see how natural it felt.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given what Tiberius knew about their culture. If they had managed to maintain their ways as Romans for this long, why shouldn’t their capital city reflect that? Yet it still caught him off guard. Perhaps he hadn’t given the elves quite enough credit.

They stepped toward the city as more and more elves began to appear as if from the shadows themselves. Tiberius’s guards tightened their formation around their emperor, but none made any openly aggressive moves. Instead, the elven populace watched the entourage pass with expressions of awe and whispers of amazement. As they neared the threshold, those whispers grew in volume until Tiberius could hear snippets of conversation.

“The emperor…?”

“So it’s true! He’s returned!”

“I told you! I told you it wasn’t for naught!”

Tiberius looked out at the rapidly growing crowds that filled the “streets” of the city. This, at least, was within expectations. The disposition of the crowds spoke well of elven enthusiasm toward Rome and its resurgence. Though he had been reassured of such things by Iladrien, seeing it firsthand did much to alleviate his doubts.

He motioned for their group to halt and took in the sight. Given that a not insignificant portion of the city’s population had come out to see him, perhaps he could grace them with a few words.

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He raised one hand. A hush rippled through the crowd as they fell silent. Even the trees seemed to bend eagerly inward as they waited on his words.

Tiberius raised his voice slightly, trusting [Inspiring Oration] to carry his voice to every ear. “People of the Great Ruthin forest. I have heard of your plight. How the world fell around you as the once-great empire crumbled, abandoning its roots and turning against itself, only to be devoured piecemeal by its enemies. How the people and gods of this world strove together to scour Rome from the annals of history. How you alone remain, a relic and a shadow of that golden age.”

He turned to gesture to the city. “Yet what I see here is no shadow. It is a shining beacon, standing tall and proud. You have refused to bend the knee. You have refused to falter. You have refused to let the ways of your ancestors fall into obscurity. And now… You will finally see your reward.”

Tiberius paused and swept his gaze across the assembled crowd. Their eyes lit with determination as he made eye contact with so many.

“No longer must you wait and hide within the forest. No longer shall the name of Rome be something to be whispered in halls of crumbling stone and dust. It shall be shouted in the streets, its banners proudly presiding over battlefields as the people of this world rue the folly of their forebears. The humble seed nurtured by your people has grown to bear fruit. And now, you shall reap your harvest as the world starves.”

Tiberius was hit with a wall of sound as an eruption of cheers burst from the elves. The enthusiasm of the response surprised him somewhat, as he had thus far seen the elves as a far more stoic people, not particularly inclined to such shows of emotion. Then again, most of the ones he’d interacted with were Legionnaires rather than the commoners.

He allowed the cheering to continue for a short while before holding up his hand for silence once more. “We will bring civilization to these lands once more. We will reclaim our rightful place atop the hierarchy of this world. We shall once more see the legacy of our people recognized. Those loyal to the empire shall see their rewards. Those who stand in her way shall see the shores of the Styx. Glory to Rome, and all of its people!”

He raised one fist, and the gesture opened the floodgates of cheering once more. Shortly after, banners were raised, and horns sounded in celebration as Tiberius and company continued onward. Any further conversation was drowned out by the jubilant sounds around them, which didn’t show even the slightest signs of ebbing.

“A fine speech.”

The crowd before them parted respectfully to reveal a group of elves approaching. They mirrored Tiberius’s own group, with guards protectively encircling a pair of individuals positioned in their center. The first was a woman wearing finely woven garments of plant fibers and clutching a staff of intricately braided cereal stalks. A modest crown of wheat rested atop her brow, simple yet almost evocative of Tiberius’s own golden laurels.

The second figure, however, demanded his more immediate attention.

A tall, regal figure glided across the forest floor, his very presence bringing with it a hush of quiet awe from the gathered elves. His long, silver hair was bound up in a simple ponytail, yet still reached down nearly to the floor. The man’s oaken features and wise eyes testified to his age—features that, considering the long lives of elves, must have meant that he was positively ancient.

His form was draped in a simple toga composed of wisteria and other purple flowers that Tiberius did not recognize. Its edges, which at first seemed trimmed with gold, instead had been decorated with tiny shimmering insects whose carapaces glittered in the dappled sunlight.

The clothing left no room for doubt as to the man’s identity.

“King Glendale, I presume.” Tiberius’s words were more of a statement than a question. This was the vaunted ruler of the Great Ruthin Forest. The man who would be Tiberius’s vassal.

The king inclined his head. The angle was deep enough to communicate respect, but stopped just short of clear deference. Despite his age, his voice remained strong and clear. “And you are Emperor Tiberius. It is good to finally meet you.”

Tiberius regarded the elf just as he, too, felt himself be evaluated. The weight of the other man’s gaze was no small thing. As old as Tiberius was, he couldn’t help but feel like a young pup beneath the scrutiny of such a presence.

Nevertheless, he refused to let himself be cowed. Not in front of one who was meant to be beneath him. Though he had no intention of disrespecting the elven ruler, either.

King Glendale gestured toward his companion. “High Priestess Fenwyn, keeper of the temple of Ceres.”

“I greet the emperor.” The woman bowed deeply as Tiberius inwardly processed the information. He’d obviously known that the elves knew of the Roman pantheon. But to hear that they still actively worshipped the god of the harvest…

“Your presence is an honor to us all,” King Glendale spoke again. “Our people have good cause to celebrate this auspicious occasion, and the Senate has long looked forward to an opportunity to speak with you in person. I will escort you to their chambers.”

The offer left little room for refusal while at the same time allowing the king to subtly take charge of the situation. In just a few words, the elf had managed to secure his own authority and take charge of the situation without giving Tiberius any cause for offense.

He suddenly became even more wary of this king. Though he had sworn fealty to Rome, Tiberius was not naive enough to believe that he would simply roll over and allow himself to be ordered about like some common dog. Perhaps his words were simply a test, one meant to ensure that Tiberius was truly worthy of his position. Or perhaps it was a reflection of his true intentions—ones that could only be expected of a true Roman. And given his age, he’d surely had plenty of time to practice the art of politics.

Tiberius nodded to the king as though his agreement wasn’t a foregone conclusion. “I, too, look forward to meeting the elves responsible for maintaining Rome’s culture. I see no reason to delay.”

With another brief nod, King Glendale motioned for Tiberius to accompany him deeper into the city. Hopefully, these senators would prove easier to deal with than their king.

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