Historical Event: The Tale of Two Towers (111 FA)

[Katreine din Ziago]

The sun was not even half its height above the horizon, but the White Tower hummed like an angry beehive. Everywhere Katreine looked, there were maids and novices, Accepted and even the occasional Aes Sedai scurrying about, finalizing this plan or that. The last group, the scurrying Aes Sedai, Kat fixed with a look that slowed them to a respectable pace. The day was important, momentous even, but that was no excuse for an Aes Sedai to be nearly running about in panic.

The Tower had been in preparation for this event for months now; every detail went over with a fine-toothed comb thrice over, if not more. The women of the Tower moved together like cogs in a clock; a thousand tiny parts moving toward one goal. The final hour was upon them and soon they would all take their places. Each one of them, from Katreine herself to the newest scullery maid, had a role to play and they all knew them by heart.

Kat reached a large, wooden double door and paused to draw a deep breath. Her palms were not sweaty, but she wiped them surreptitiously on her dress anyhow before pushing open the doors and entering the room beyond.

If the halls of the White Tower were an angry beehive, the chaos inside its largest meeting hall was a kicked anthill. People swarmed everywhere in a seemingly choreographed dance. Kitchen girls setting trays on tables that would soon be heaping with the best of the kitchen’s hors d'oeuvres offerings; young boys damping the large fireplaces at either end of the hall; novices and Accepted darting here or there to fetch something or another for one of the many Aes Sedai that stood around the room in clusters, talking quietly among themselves. Here, at least, they were all holding themselves to a proper standard; each woman a pillar of serenity in a raging storm.

Kat’s eyes caught Calina Taborwin’s across the room and she nodded without slowing her pace. Calina would be inside the meeting today; she had been an influential proponent in making it happen in the first place. Half the room’s length from her, Avyanna Sarat stood watching over the pair of Accepted that would be standing in service inside the meeting room. Her warder stood behind her left shoulder.

Nearing the door to the meeting room at the far end of the hall, Kat slowed and turned to survey the room. Her mind was always worrying at some minute imperfection, complications others rarely even noticed. There would be complications in an undertaking of this magnitude, there was no avoiding that, but it was out of her hands now. The players knew their roles; despite the nagging in her head, she must allow the pieces to fall where they would.

[Calina Taborwin]

 Daes Dae'mar, the Great Game in the Old Tongue, was not really a game, precisely.  In Cairhien it was as good as the national trade, and 'game' served well enough as a metaphor.  The more Calina removed herself from the land of her birth the more she realized that was incorrect, or at least woefully incomplete.  Daes Dae'mar was a dance as much as any duel.  One where the steps and forms were letters, motives, and people, but it was a dance nonetheless, and ever since she'd taken the Game back up Calina had been determined to decide the steps and set the tempo.

The meeting with the Black Tower and their new M'Hael was the result of months of effort, all for the barest chance to establish that tempo.  She wasn't certain why the M'Hael had suggested the meeting; her network of eyes and ears was woefully inadequate in the Black Tower as it was in all other places.  Few of those deep in the Game at the White Tower trusted the upstart Gray Sitter or had forgotten her origins.  Calina would make do, though, Katreine din Ziago needed the Hall of the Tower united at her back and if they danced well enough today, well...there would be future opportunities to solidify that support.

So Calina placed herself in the center of the hustle and bustle, seemingly unconcerned by the chaos that had engulfed the Tower around her.  Alone, for the moment.  Activity swirled around her and past her, but none of it seemed to reach the beauty in pale green.  Calina was as prepared as she could get, though she did take a brief moment to recheck her own personal preparations.

The thin green silk of her Taraboner gown clung to her in ways her native Cairhien would have found scandalous.  She'd fallen in love with the style during her travels after being raised, such a stunning repudiation of her home and such a powerful tool in her arsenal.  Certainly few could ignore her; the silk hugged every curve as though it were part of her body, from the ample swell of her bosom to her generous hips.  The pale green silk half-veil she wore was transparent, setting it apart from the gown and revealing painted rosebud lips quirked into a smile.  She deviated from expected fashion greatly in two important ways; her long raven-black hair was worn loose to her waist, forgoing the numerous small braids favored by Taraboners.  It had a dazzling effect playing of the green silk and her pale complexion, drawing the eye of observers toward her waist.  Her jewelry was the other major change; her kesiera was a blue jewel dangling from a chain across her brow, a Cairhienin tradition for noblewomen rarely practiced even before the Last Battle.  She wore dangling earrings as well, emeralds to play off the gown, and of course the Great Serpent ring prominently on her right hand.  Her shawl, the symbol of Aes Sedai, completed the ensemble.  Normally she would go without, but there was a certain protocol to observe...it was looped loosely around her arms, trimmed in gray and displaying the Flame of Tar Valon across the center of her back.  The prominence and relative modesty of the shawl served to amplify the rest of her ensemble, as she'd hoped.

Calina caught the eye of the Amyrlin Seat, Katreine, as she glided across the room to join with her Keeper, Veira.  Most of the women in the room were taller than Calina and the Amyrlin both, but the Brown especially towered above the rest.  She was reading, of course, and Calina's grin widened slightly.  It was good to know some things never changed, even if she knew the Brown would be as observant as ever.

It would soon be time to bring the Black Tower delegates inside.  Calina and other Sitters, one from each Ajah, would go greet them.  Calina had insisted, of course, on being the Gray to bring them up.  Neither of the others had disagreed, seeing it as slightly below their status.  Calina relished the chance to see the delegates before the meeting started, and of course, she also valued the opportunity to draw their eyes.  It would keep things smooth in the long run, hopefully.

The other Grays had been much more cross about Calina being their representative to the actual meeting, but thankfully the Amyrlin had put her foot down. 

Calina glided forward and scooped up a glass an Accepted had brought for her.  A drink, and then it would be time to depart.  In spite of her outward serenity, her heart raced.  The dance was beginning, and she could barely contain the excitement.

[Sana Aravell]

Early Summer, 111 FA
Mid Morning
The White Tower, Tar Valon

Even during the depths of summer, the Tower itself was cool and breezy, taking off the edge from the servants who scurried around to finish up their duties and melt away into the shadows. But heat was nothing to an Aes Sedai, and while novices and Accepted scurried about helping the maid with the last-minute chores, faces streaked with sweat and dust, the Aes Sedai watched the scene with faces like masks, their eyes ready to burn those who didn’t run with the tempo of the day. The large reception chamber itself was spotless, but still the Aes Sedai watched like hawks for the slightest mistake. Sana herself had seen two novices and an Accepted ordered to the Mistress of Novices for dropping pails of dirty water on the already thrice-scrubbed floor. She would have interceded, save for the custom that prevented a Sister from interfering with the affairs of another. Only Avyanna had the final say on an initiate’s punishment, and at this point it was not worth ruffling feathers within the Tower to make a point. The White Tower had to stand united, on this day of all days.

There could be no room for error here.

Her Sisters were all wearing their Shawls, of course, the Flame of Tar Valon paraded on their backs for the world to see. Though not strictly a formal occasion, Aes Sedai clung to formality and protocols and traditions that had sustained them through thousands of years. And among the Yellow Sisters present, Sana’s was by far the plainest despite her rank as a Sitter, though that wasn’t really saying much, for the Yellow Ajah was perhaps the most flamboyant among all others. Indeed, she eyed the revealing necklines and bodices of the dresses from some of her fellow sisters, and those of the Green. And Tenhya’s outfit … was so form fitting it might as well have been men’s wear, though of course she was of the Green, so it wasn’t quite surprising. Catching Tenhya’s gaze and holding it, Sana raised an eyebrow meaningfully, and Tenhya gave her a slight smirk before turning to talk to her twin sister Sretia, whom had somehow been dug out of whatever grassland she had been playing with to attend the meeting.

Sana was rather surprised that Sretia had even remembered, actually. Of course, even as Sana moved forward to greet her cousin, she wasn’t in the least bit surprised to see that while Sretia had come for the event, she had forgotten to clean her shawl from the stains. As she neared, both Tenhya and Sretia turned from their animated discussion and nodded towards her.

“It is a good day for it, is it not, Tenhya, Sretia?” Sana said, smiling. “I see that we will be having a family get-together soon enough.”

“Just you, maybe.” Sretia replied dryly. “I am not sure that Terron truly wishes to see the rest of us during this visit - you know how he is.” She twitched her shawl, then frowned at the stains. The glow of saidar surrounded her, and the mud fell off onto the floor, causing a nearby novice to sigh in chagrin at the additional work. Sretia glanced down at the initiate and raised an eyebrow, and the novice paled and fled the scene once she had cleaned up the dirt.

“Easy, Sretia.” Sana murmured, and though she had not meant it as a rebuke, Sretia grimaced and looked away as though she were an Accepted caught out in a prank. Sana suppressed a sigh, but inwardly she winced. Though she wasn’t that strong among the standards of Aes Sedai (though she likely would have been at the very top back then), Sana stood well enough above most other sisters that several would have jumped had she snapped her fingers. Added that she was a Sitter to boot … and it seemed that the Wheel had woven her into a station far above most of her cousins or relatives in the White Tower. “Besides, perhaps you should give him a chance. He was never very happy back in Alirycas, but perhaps it would be different here.”

“As you say, Sana.” Tenhya murmured, though her eyes still showed that she disagreed, and Sana sighed.

What could she do to reconcile Terron with the family?

[Sariska Atwahar]

The brown sisters at her side had been fretting all morning. If Sariska were less generous (or more observant) she’d have compared them to hens, clucking and pecking at everything in their paths. Like most of the tower they’d been swept into the urgent quest for perfection. Everything needed to be in place for the arrival of the black towers delegation. Apparently for these browns that meant making sure every book in the library was standing at attention like a good soldier. It also meant fretting over their fellow sisters with the same critical gaze. Sariska with her long messy tresses and her penchant for wrinkled dresses hadn't escaped their notice. In the end she’d changed into her nicest gown. A compromise as she refused to sit through the fussing of setting her hair up. The gown now worn was clean and unwrinkled, deeply unremarkable compared to the garden of colors on display. It was even a touch drab when standing among the throng of sisters all wearing their best. The neckline of the brown dress was modest and straight, neither plunging or stretching to the chin. The dark brown skirt went down to the ankle and had panels of pale yellow. Her serpent ring and her shawl were enough additional decoration for Sariska. She’d been resisting fiddling with the brown fringe as they’d walked from the brown quarters to where the delegation would be meeting..

What was the point anyway? She wasn't part of the official ceremonies. They wouldn't even be in the room where the meeting would take place. Not that it kept her fellow sisters from insisting. Of the three of them Sariska was the only one with any real business to be had here. Some of the delegation from the black tower had expressed an interest in a few objects of the one power. Sariska had been tasked with gathering the list of ter'angreal that they would be looking over, as well as answering any questions and offering what information was known. It had been an enticingly eclectic mix of objects. Their appearance as varied as their uses-those that were known.

There was an obsidian candelabra nearly four feet high with peaks for six candles, though no force known could keep a candlelit when sitting atop it. Not even channeling a flame worked. By contrast included on the list was a small song bird with extended wings that was made from a bone like material. Delicate and lovely it could easily fit on the end of a finger. Its use was unknown. There was a golden bowl with an old tongue poem around the rim. Some sisters seemed to think it was meant for speaking from great distances-though no one seemed to be able to make it work.

Some items were less lovely. Such as a copper colored knife with an eerie scarlet edge that resembled blood. It was thankfully dull but still managed to induce a certain...unease in whoever was handling it. Those and half a dozen more objects had been gathered only this morning and safely tucked away in a room of the library. Even the most open hearted sisters had seemed hesitant to let these male channelers go wandering through their storerooms of objects of power. Hence why Sariska had been given her list and assigned to babysit the ter'angreal. Or was it babysit the Asha’man? Ha. Whatever the case the brown was happy to be of use and excited for a chance to gleen what she might from both the objects and the visitors.

What was the library at the black tower like? Surely nothing as grand as their own but...that didn't mean there weren't secrets to be found! Did they have any stories from Allorallen? Scraps of books that survived the Age of Legends? Unlikely considering how new their tower was, a pale comparison to the white tower really. But surely there were first hand accounts of how the black tower was established. How many men who came to train were raised to asha’man? As many as the women who became Aes Sedai? How did they test their power and control? All very interesting questions. All things she could, with any luck learn during this visit.

The women beside her continued their urgent whispering back and forth. Sariska paid them no mind, her own thoughts drifting toward how the days events would play out.

[Zamira Dagaron]

A whirlwind of commotion spun around her in its many intricate weaves as she seamlessly moved through the purposeful chaos. After months of preparations, there were still last details that needed to be set into place. Tasteful yet lavish decorations hung about the Hall as waves of Novices, Accepted, and Aes Sedai washed in and out like the tide. Delicious hors d'oeuvres, fine wines, fresh fruit, and other delicacies adorned the tables. Candles and fireplaces were lit, tablecloths pressed, and vases with fresh flowers were set on every table. Even the furnishings were pristine. This was to be a momentous occasion, unlike anything witnessed in ages, and less than an hour away from unfolding. Whether it would blossom into a flourishing, beautiful bud or wither and decay all now weighed heavily upon this historical events' outcome.

The new M'Hael and a selection of Asha'man were forthcoming to the White Tower for a delegation. Peaceful negotiations of friendship, cohesiveness, and unity were on the docket for discussion. It was a hateful prospect, Tar Valon and Caralain banding together as one to lend strength to the Light. How vile and naive these notions were! A mere fantastical ideal concocted by children relying on their beliefs to protect them. ‘Such ignorant fools.’ she thought. They were unable to conceive of the fathomless mechanisms in which the Dark One operated. ‘Let their hearts swell, pride rise, and confidence grow in abundance, for it will only increase the delightful pleasure I'll embrace once it's mercilessly ripped away. May their wallowing tears engulf them as they drown in the endless pit of darkness and despair their failings will wreak.’ mused the woman spitefully to herself. But for today she would have to play her role as a shining example of how an Aes Sedai should behave whilst she hide behind the facade.

As ever the regal figure, which now floated with ease through the space almost full to the brim, had completed all her tasks for this occasion much earlier. She refused to encounter members of the Black Tower covered in sweat, wrinkled attire or her hair in shambles. So instead of hurried scrambling, the Head delegated her tasks to her Green Sisters. While they prepared the Tower, she had readied herself. Black curls became pinned atop of the back of her head. Droplets of black pearls dangled from her ears. And the lightest brush of color highlighted her cheeks and lips. As for her gown, it was ornately embellished in black beading and dazzled in a golden hue which complimented her golden-bronzed skin tone. It possessed a high, round the neck collar, long sleeves, and ball gown skirt. This splendid look was completed with a pair of flat bronze sandals.

Zamira Dagaron, Head of the Green Ajah, embodied the spirit of grace, respect, and loveliness all in one. But she was also an absolute force of nature marveled for her tenacity and air of confidence. Some would compare the Aes Sedai to the eye of a storm: Outwardly powerful and deadly, inwardly calm and focused. But on this day her place would be outside of the meeting where she was expected to both entertain and maintain a watchful eye upon the Asha'man who'd also not attend the meeting. She had no objections to this, men were simple creatures really but also a delight to look at. Especially well-cut men as the Asha'man were. How many of them could she charm, seduce, or coax secrets and information from she wondered?!

She gave a friendly wave to her half-sister Avyanna as she passed her by and another to Calina Taborwin, a Gray Sitter. Zamira had befriended the woman some time ago reveling in their many similarities. She found her to quite possibly be a prospective choice to succumb to the dark. But everything had a time and a place, not to mention that success came to those who were patient. So Zamira refrained from stopping to conduct a chat and instead took her place amongst those that were appointed similar responsibilities as hers. This event would be a spectacle of enormous proportion especially if the rumors among-st her darkfriends held any truth to an attack. What a delicious treat that would indeed be! A smirk lit her face at the prospect before her eyes grew alight on the table filled with various ter'angreal. How her mind did imagine the numerous nefarious acts she could commit with not even half of the items displayed. Her smile warmed as she turned it towards Sariska Atwahar, an Aes Sedai of the Brown Ajah. ‘Well isn't this an interesting turn of events.’ mused Zamira. With time to spare before the Black Tower entourage arrived, she decided there was absolutely no harm if she engaged in a conversation with the young woman.

“Sariska Sedai, how are you, my dear? Tell me, are you excited to exchange information with the Asha'man? I'd imagine their collection of books, artifacts, and other fascinating items cannot even begin to compare with our own. Still, there is no doubt that there is much we can learn from them, wouldn't you agree?”

( Zamira's Dress: i.postimg.cc/c4FBfDJx/tumblr-pfm1jc-Hw-Vt1rg559so1-500.jpg )

[Avyanna Sarat]

“Elaira, will you go fetch Ishara and bring her to me for your instructions?”

Avyanna’s voice lowered just enough to be conspiratorial, but still heard over the hustle and bustle.

“The two of you have been chosen to attend the sisters during the delegation meeting. “

She smiled as the Accepted scurried away to do her bidding. She rather liked Elaira, the girl was very malleable, though she fully belonged to the light for now.

Avyanna felt excited and nervous, but she tucked her nerves away from prying eyes and allowed only her excitement to show. Galvin, standing at her left shoulder, would sense the knot in her stomach, but years of being a perfectionist explained that away easily enough. This was a monumentous occasion and everything needed to go just right.

Her plan to divide the towers had succeeded for a time, but alas all good things must come to an end. She considered it her plan, though the order and thus the original idea had come from the Dark Mother. The skills she used had been taught to her by Moghedien as well. Though she was under orders and had substantial help, Avyanna would always consider plans she took part in to be at least partly hers. Otherwise, she would be forced to recognize her status as a tool, a weapon not much different than her life as Damane had been, only now with an invisible collar around her throat.

Moghedien had no trouble calling the plan Avyanna’s either. At least, not when she was told about this delegation and flew into a rage, blaming her for its inevitable failure. There was simply too much to be done and too few people to do it. Without more dark sisters, keeping the towers apart forever was impossible.

The Black Ajah had begun in a time of discord and had time to grow while only needing to keep the status quo for ten centuries. She had to rebuild everything from scratch in one century while freeing the past generations failures and reopening the seal to the Dark One’s prison. Avyanna had single-handedly turned the daughter of one of Moghedien’s own personal nemeses. And with the help of her sister, Zamira, the Black Ajah was well on their way to rebuilding what had been lost, but their numbers were still nowhere near what Mesaana had commanded.

Mesaana. If Avyanna had spoken the name her mouth would taste foul, but thinking it created a dark cloud in her mind of disgust. Moghedien had told her of Mesaana and of her utter and absolute failure which lead to the destruction of all but a few of her dark sisters. She quickly covered her emotion by scolding a nearby novice for not setting a place perfectly. She had already been sent several novices and one accepted for mistakes today, but she kept the tally in her mind for later. There was no time for punishments right now.

After scolding the novice, she smoothed a few nonexistent wrinkles from her floor-length ruby red gown. Though she normally wore fabrics dyed green or white, she had decided on the red dress today. She knew everyone would be decked out in their most eye-catching attire, and she didn’t want to fade into the background. She wanted very much to be seen, while others worked in the shadows today. The cut was more demure than usual, showing only a small amount of cleavage with her narrow, but deep neckline. The fashion was Ebou Dari, but in the style of the commoners. When Avyanna chose her clothing, she often preferred the styles of the commoners, though she always had them made with better fabrics.

“Nothing can be even a hair out of place today”

She murmured to Glavin, suddenly lifting her hand to check her own hair. She had let it fall freely today, not wanting to be confined by the possibility of strands coming loose from an elaborate design. As her hand lowered it grazed her nose and she cringed inwardly at the self-conscious behavior.

She watched as the Amyrlin Seat entered the room and headed towards the Keeper, who had her nose in a book as usual. She was forced to look away though as her charges arrived for their orders.

Her dress

[Galvin Menithil]

Standing in a simple dark green tunic and brown pants, Galvin looked an absolute clod compared to much of the rest of the current ensemble being readied for the event. Women ran around in muted but finely woven dresses with their hair done up in ways that he would have sworn took the one power to hold in place. They wore jewels that were dimmed slightly despite the fact that any one of their ensembles could probably feed a moderately sized family for two months. By contrast, his tunic and pants were complemented by a simple pair of black boots, shined for the occasion but obviously showing their wear and age. His own hair was only held back by his hadori, washed for the occasion but otherwise unremarkable. The only thing that possibly set him apart from a lost farmer from the borderlands was his fancloth cloak, at the moment draped over his shoulders with the hood down. His Brown eyes gave an expression of boredom as he watched the women of the white tower scurry around like servants finding out the master was returning early.

He watched as dispassionately as he could as novices and accepted scurried around the Tower, though the attitude of many of the sisters was pushing him to the edge. More than once he had to bite back his own tongue as a novice received a tongue lashing or dirty glare from an Aes Sedai due to the instructions of that very same Aes Sedai being unclear or incomplete. There was an air of tension in the air that could be cut with a knife, and many were taking it out on those who couldn’t defend themselves from the abuse. Even Avyanna seemed to be taken in by the mood,dealing with a novice in a way that Galvin could hardly call justified, even with the knot in her stomach over this little formality. He couldn’t tell if his annoyance shown through the bond or not, but he couldn’t force himself to hold back his own words anymore.

“Even so, you were too hard on the girl.”

His own tone was definitely not appropriate for being in public, but the stresses put on the novices and accepted by the Aes Sedai were getting to be too much for him. This may be a stressful affair for the Aes Sedai, but that did not give them free rein to abuse the novices and accepted because they were failing to prepare. If it was not for the importance of the occasion he might have already snapped at several of the sisters for their own attitudes.

Galvin started to retreat into his own mind, forcing himself to draw upon his old training to recognize himself once more as being everywhere and nowhere. His breathing steadied and his own anger and frustration dimmed in his heart. Out of reflex, his eyes started to wander the grounds, taking note of everything that was happening. An old reflex that helped to calm his own mind, one that he hoped would keep him from doing anything else that might see him forced to settle his own punishment.

[Elaira Taravin]

The chaos that had engulfed the White Tower was an alien sensation. It had always been, in Elaira Taravin's experience, a bastion of calm. Even at her most scared and homesick she'd been able to appreciate how the Aes Sedai had sculpted their Tower into a place of calm and decorum.

This day brought many changes.

The Asha'man were coming, and the Tower had been abuzz over it for many days. Novice, Accepted, and serving women alike had been attempting to finish a seemingly neverendling list of chores for at least a week. Elaira was certain, though she wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone, that she'd even seen Aes Sedai cleaning a corridor or two. Today was full of last minute preparations. Elaira was already frazzled, trying to think of which of a dozen chores might need to be done (or, though she'd felt guilty about it, how to avoid them) when Avyanna Sarat had caught her attention. And when the Mistress of Novices wanted a word not even Aes Sedai could get away.

“Elaira, will you go fetch Ishara and bring her to me for your instructions? The two of you have been chosen to attend the sisters during the delegation meeting. “

Elaira didn't gape or even react much to the request even as her heart started to race. Instead, she sketched a quick but proper curtsy and said "Of course Avyanna Sedai. We'll return immediately."

She moved quickly, not quite running, away from Avyanna and her warder. Elaira knew exactly where to find Ishara today. She made her way through the Tower, one of dozens, hundreds of women clad in the white dress with the colored bands that marked the Accepted. Her heart was still racing, but she wasn't entirely surprised.

The Tower knew of her Talent, of course. Women could not sense when a man channeled, nor when he reached out to the male half of the True Source, saidin. Usually. Elaira was the exception, which she'd only discovered two years ago during a chance encounter in Caemlyn. She could sense when a man held the source, and who held it, a fact which had come out during the chaotic aftermath of that expedition. The discovery, along with the events of that day, had helped the usually passive Accepted find goals of her own. It had also made her keenly of interest to the Aes Sedai organizing this delegation. No one had said as much, but Elaira was no fool; if there was a chance of the Asha'man using the Power, it made sense for her to be in the room.

She just wished it was someone else. Failing that, though, she was just glad that Ishara would be with her.

She found the Daughter-Heir where Elaira had expected to find her: in the branches of an ancient tree in the White Tower's gardens. The twisted old oak was far older than either Elaira or Ishara, probably older than both of them put together, and it's knotted trunk made for easy climbing. From the ground, Elaira guessed that the upper branches would provide a perfect view of the courtyard where the Asha'man were likely to muster if one could see past the leaves. It might even let a particularly daring Accepted see over the walls into the plaza beyond. Ishara was, of course, quite daring, and Elaira couldn't suppress the small laugh. Lucky for Ishara that most everyone was busy inside.

"'Shara! I'm sorry to cut in before you got your opportunity to see them, but we've been summoned. Avyanna Sedai says we're to be attending the Sisters during the meeting."

It didn't take long for Ishara to join her, or much longer for the pair to return to Avyanna Sedai. Elaira even felt faintly out of breath, as one often did trying to keep up with the ever-energetic Ishara Trakand.

She curtsied again upon returning. "We're prepared for your instructions, Avyanna Sedai."

[Ishara Trakand]

A breeze blew through the gardens of the White Tower, making the leaves of the old oak tree rustle melodically and a stray copper curl to brush under Ishara's nose. She brushed it away with a quick, frustrated gesture. The hair on her head had always had a mind of its own, and she did not want to miss a moment of this! The White and Black Towers had worked cooperatively during Tarmon Gaidon and afterwards under the Sealbreaker, but even in their best of days things had been tentative and strained. This was the two of them willingly coming together in hopes of creating a strong and lasting alliance the likes of which had not been seen since the Age of Legends, before the Breaking of the World. The first of the trumpets sounded the approach of the Black Tower delegation and Ishara leaned forward eagerly, trying to catch the first glimpse of the severe and stately Asha'men in their high-collared black coats. I wonder if Rhian will be attending? I may have to avoid him! He did kiss rather well, but we are just not meant to be and I'm afraid it will break his heart...

"Shara! I'm sorry to cut in before you got your opportunity to see them, but we've been summoned. Avyanna Sedai says we're to be attending the Sisters during the meeting."

Ishara jumped, startled by the sound, and windmilled desperately to regain her grip on a branch. She began to scowl down at Elaira for snuffing out her spying spot, but then just what she'd said sunk in. Instead the Accepted's face lit up with eager excitement and she scrambled down from the oak as fast as she could, though very carefully avoiding getting any stains or rips in her dress. Avyanna Sedai was a strict and unforgiving mistress when it came to Novices and Accepted alike, especially on a day like today! The pair ran as fast as their feet could fly until just outside the main chamber, stopping briefly to smooth hair and skirts, before presenting themselves to the Mistress of Novices with proper curtsies of respect.

"We're prepared for your instructions, Avyanna Sedai."

[Jadin al'Vyron]

A brilliant glow of moonlight radiance dazzled through the large pane window while a gust of wind billowed the wool curtains that hung around it. The window currently stood hung open to allow in the cool night air. On the opposite length of the room sat a large black fireplace surrounded by furniture in the same hue of light gray as the curtains. The once roaring red, yellow, and orange flames that danced against the hearth had begun to diminish into embers. And underneath the window, in front of a king sized bed, stood Jadin al"Vyron, M'Hael of the Black Tower. He was packing away several necessities for the journey which laid ahead. Once he finished, the man closed the window then dosed the fire before exiting his room.

Several months ago, when Androl Genhald stepped down as M'Hael, the War Council chose him as Androl's successor. On that very same day, Jadin wrote a letter to the Amyrlin of the White Tower Katreine din Ziago. Within the letter was a request to hold a friendly delegation between their two towers. It included the prospects of starting an exchange program between Aes Sedai and Asha'man. But his grandest reason behind orchestrating a delegation regarded repairing their relationship and forming a much stronger, more unified force. A force capable of working together in a trustworthy and cohesive relationship. Unification between the White and Black Tower felt vital in the continuous battle with the Dark Forces. Therefore, Jadin found himself quite relieved when the Amyrlin agreed with his proposal. This then led to many consecutive correspondences between the pair fine-tuning the arrangements.

Deciding which men he'd take with him to Tar Valon was by no means an easy feat. Bringing only those of higher rank could send the wrong impression after the incident with Rahlin yet choosing only Dedicated and Soldiers also seemed a poor option. Thus he selected a bit of both. Julian Damodred was amongst those that would accompany him as he both respected and admired the opinion of his Tsorovan'm'hael. A man who was not only, one of, his second in command but also a close, dear friend. As for his Baijan'm'hael, Jadin instructed him to remain at the Black Tower and serve as M'Hael in his absence. The rest of his company consisted of 3 captains: Earth, Water & Fire, 2 Ash'aman: Spirit and Air, 1 Dedicated, and 2 Soldiers.

Jadin descended down the spiral stairwell currently lit by torches and followed them all the way down out into training yards. A few of the stable hands already had his and all the other horses saddled, packed, and ready for departure. He mounted his steed as the rest of the men followed suit. With a few last details discussed with the Baijan'm'hael and checks through his saddlebags, Jadin instructed the men to head out. For a week and two days, they traveled along the main roads which led to Tar Valon. They stopped to rest the horses, eat, sleep, and refill their water skins but otherwise rode at a steady pace so as not to arrive late.

Although this was not his first visit to Tar Valon or the White Tower, Jadin still gazed upon the city in wonder. It was not only far larger than Caralain but also far more appealing upon the eyes. A city of dazzling white stone which glistened within the morning light. And even for as long as Tar Valon had stood, every inch had the appearance of being brand new.

There was a mixture of both awe and fear painted across the faces of the citizens of Tar Valon. Some cheered while others hissed as the large trotting stallions carried the black-coated men through the crowds which had gathered around the streets to observe their arrival. A long sinuous serpent of red and gold embroidered across a background of black waved proudly above the Soldier Cirus as he carried their flag for all to see. As their small party entered through the Sunset gate to the West, they were immediately greeted by the Master of the Yard and 7 sitters of the White Tower. They had finally arrived.

[Julian Damodred]

Julian sat relaxed but straight on his mount, gaining a few extra millimeters with his good posture. This wasn’t vanity on his part, though it was a nice added bonus. Truthfully though, it's hard to control a horse while hunched, and he didn’t want his balance to be affected. After over a week of riding, it would be easy to get lazy and slouch in his saddle, but he knew without even looking that all of their men would be sitting proudly. They were Asha’man, even those who were not yet. Julian had helped choose those who had not earned their pins, and felt very secure in his recommendations.

He appeared to be staring straight ahead, but his eyes danced back and forth, taking everything in with his peripheral vision. His black steed paid little mind to the crowds; it had been trained well. Julian had trained this horse from a foal and he and the animal shared a deep sense of trust and respect for each other. He had even named him Zialin, meaning “certain” in the old tongue.

At first, Julian had been against riding the whole way, and was a staunch supporter of traveling to somewhere nearby. If the women were too skittish to allow them to travel to outside the city, then how strong of allies were they really going to be gaining from this mission? Deep inside though, Julian enjoyed their fear. He hadn’t agreed with Rahlin’s war, and had taken no part in it jeopardizing his own position at the tower, but the fact that even after all this time, they still feared his men, made him feel powerful. Part of him longed to see that fear on their faces. The idea of striding through a gateway and letting it slam closed behind him (Julian swore he could hear the pattern slam back together, but it was probably just the air) and walking right up to their snooty little faces and watch them trying to hold together that precious Aes Sedai serenity while their skin crawled, amused him greatly. Jadin was never a slave to power or vanity though, and arguing those desires would have made no impression on him. That is why he was going to make one of the finest M'Hael’s the Tower had seen.

All in all though, it was actually a pleasant ride, and taking the long way there had given their party time to bond and they now had a level of comradery amongst themselves that made the unit even stronger than they would have been with just their training alone. Soldiers are taught to obey immediately, but the captains needed to be able to trust each other, and that came more easily the better they knew each other. Even those who were familiar with everyone, were developing deeper bonds because of this mission.

Terron was definitely a captain who took some getting to know. Julian enjoyed teasing the other man, who was a bit of a lone wolf, and far too stoic. As a Cairhienin, Julian wasn’t the loudest man in any room, but Terron made him seem like the life of the party. While they had some friendly sarcastic banter, he knew he took things too far and occasionally got under the other man’s skin. Sometimes the Earth Captain needed someone to poke the occasional hole in his protective outer shell. Otherwise, he could go postal….whatever that meant. That phrase was from an age so long ago, it was only known to Julian because of his vast reading materials and he never said it out loud for fear that he was using it wrong.

Julian stopped his horse with the minutest of movements, about a head behind Jadin (mostly beside him), and looked impassively at those who were there to greet them, waiting for his commander to make the first move.

[Terron Aravell]

Terron guided his horse deftly through the streets of Tar Valon, seemingly deaf to both the cries of welcome, the shouts of derision, or even just the people who stopped to gawk at the procession as though they had never seen an Asha'man in their lives. Or rather, that such an amalgamation of persona would ever step foot together at the same time within the Shining Walls at the express invitation of the Amyrlin herself. Since the days of Rahlin, few Asha'man had stepped foot within Tar Valon for more than one candlemark necessary to conduct their business and be on their way, for the memory of the Tower Wars lingered in the minds of the commons, and for far longer within those of the Aes Sedai. Few would wish to subject themselves to the presence of thousands of women who could channel and link, for fear of retribution for crimes that they did not commit. And many had indeed committed crimes within the lands administered by Aes Sedai. Most had been hunted down by the Fire and Earth Legions and tried for their crimes before the War Council, but a few renegades remained, either unable to be tried due to lack of evidence, or simply in hiding in some far remote corner of the world.

Terron had been a part of those teams, working both alone, and together with Aes Sedai and Asha'man alike to bring the renegades to the justice of the Light. Perhaps that was why he had been "invited" (read: commanded) to come along for this expedition, his lack of finesse in the arts of diplomacy notwithstanding. That, and the fact that his family was prominent in both the White and Black Towers, with generations of Aes Sedai and Tower-trained Kin to their name over a span of hundreds of years, and more recently, Asha'man. Perhaps they thought that by including him, and by raising him to a position of power within the Black Tower, that the White Tower would see efforts to reconcile, and be more willing to grant concessions. Or, at the worst, they would be less willing to injure one who had so strong links to the Aes Sedai of the White Tower. Did the saying not go, that blood was thicker than water?

It was just a pity that his blood was tainted by that of the Seanchan, that the matriarch of Aravell, though she would never say it aloud, would rather his bloodline be pruned, a rotten branch from an otherwise wholesome tree, lest it bring down the others as well.

As their group had approached the Tar Valon over the past week, one could not but help notice that Terron's mood had grown gradually darker as well. It wasn't that he was snappish or anything, rather that there was an air about him that discouraged interaction, which had deterred most away from him save both Jadin and Julian, the former whom Terron had never seen been intimidated before, and the latter of whom never knew when to give up despite the increasingly dark looks that were flashed his way with every frivolous quip or light barb. He knew that the Tsorovan'm'hael likely meant nothing personal or serious by his words, but Terron still was unable to appreciate humour at this moment, when his family were so near. The only member of his family that he had in the White Tower who was remotely close to him was his twin sister, Sana, and even then she was fair as he was dark, and so only he had truly experienced the brunt of the discrimination of the family against him. They still loved each other, but Sana did not truly understand him, and they had only grown even further apart when she had gone to the White Tower to become an Aes Sedai.

So it was, that when they entered through the Sunset Gate and greeted by the sitters of the White Tower, Terron did not at first recognize the Yellow Sitter that bore down upon him the moment he dismounted, breaking ranks from the row of Aes Sedai that had come out to greet them.

[Rhian al'Mathin]

Rhian sat straight and still in his saddle for once. Hundreds of thousands of eyes lined the street into Tar Valon he and the other Asha’man rode along. Many of them crinkled at the corners in merriment. Others held open contempt or even hostility, but those he ignored.. He tried to ignore the revelers too, keeping his eyes trained on the back of Julian Damodred ahead of him.

Now there was a man about his ease. He sat straight and tall, or as tall as he could anyhow, yet appeared relaxed and nonchalant. How does he do that? The t'sorovan m'hael was an impressive man, despite his small stature. Sure of himself and his abilities just as Rhian had been in the Two Rivers.

Rhian was a big fish in a small pond at home. From Devon Ride all the way up to Tarren Ferry, they called him “that Cauthon boy.” He wasn’t a Cauthon, not technically, but there were no Cauthons left save for Auntie Bode, so he had never exactly discouraged the name.

He had only met Bodewhin Cauthon a time or two as a child. She was very important lady who rubbed elbows with kings and queens, but she made orbs of colored light dance for the al’Mathin children’s amusement. As a boy, he had wanted to stow away in her bags and travel the world.

Rhian had a vivid memory from when he was about five years old, his hands and face sticky with the pie he had filched from his mother’s kitchen window and caked over with the dirt he had played in after devouring it. Auntie Bode had been home on one of her rare visits and she had laughed and laughed at his “innocent face” while his mother only sighed and shoed him off to clean up.

“Just like my brother,” she had said to Rhian’s mother. “You’ll have to worry about him until the end of your days, but if I was a gambler like Matrim, I’d bet he’ll get out of every pinch he ever finds himself in.” And so he had, mostly.

The Tar Valon air crackled with energy and excitement. Caralain and Caemlyn were the only grand cities Rhian had ever set foot in, but they were nothing compared to this. There was so much to see here and this was just the main thoroughfare! There would be much more excitement in the seedier parts of town, if only he could slip off into the crowd. Duty kept him firmly planted in his saddle trying to ignore the merrymaking all around him. Bah! Duty was a curse.

Entertainers of every stripe and calibre moved through the throng singing and playing, juggling and tumbling through the air. Pretty girls with flowers plaited in their hair laughed and danced, throwing flowers at the men on horseback. A blue flower with many small petals caught in his mount’s black mane; he plucked it out and tucked it behind his ear, grinning at the tittering of giggles from the cluster of girls as he passed. He kept his eyes forward, but couldn’t suppress a grin.

[Cirus]

Cirus was still trying to figure out why he had been chosen for this assignment. It was true he had put his name forward when they had asked for recruits, but he had thought it a long and distant chance for his name to be drawn, much less approved to allow for a barely trained soldier to come along on this mission. He had put his name forward with a distant hope of seeing Ishara and Elaira again, two women who had saved him from an early death on the streets of Caemlyn. A distant hope, probably a false hope given the nature of what was going on, but one that had sparked and burned within him when he found out that this mission was going forward. He felt rather guilty that he hadn’t tried even a little to reach out to them in his nearly two years at the Black Tower, but a small part in the back of his mind was constantly asking why they would bother with remembering a street urchin like him. Ishara was daughter heir to a powerful kingdom, and Elaira had a powerful legacy to follow along with as well. Both women were far too important to worry about a former urchin who they had given a second chance at life. It was part of the reason he hadn’t asked Gareth how he could deliver a letter, and if he was honest, it was something he was afraid of doing because they might truly have forgotten him.

His concerns about a possible meeting with two of his saviors was cut short when he rode through the gates of the White City. He trailed at the back of their party, carrying the banner of the Black Tower, a red and gold serpent across a massive black structure. It was a fitting symbol of their legacy, the heirs to the power of the Dragon Reborn and his legacy. He had welcomed the chance to ride near the back and let the others congregate to talk as they rode. He had never felt very comfortable around the full brothers of the tower, and Rhian serving as a dedicated made it difficult to talk with the man. Gareth was the only one with whom he could hold a conversation, but even that seemed stretched as he had spent more time at the Black Tower.

Cirus would have said it had never felt like a chore to carry the banner, but as they approached the gates of Tar Valon he started to feel the weight of his own responsibility. The walls rose well above any of them, and he could only imagine what it would be like to watch their little party approach. Little over a hundred years ago a party like theirs approaching the walls in broad daylight would have been courting death. As it was now they were on a mission of peace. It was a delicate mission, one that could fall apart if any of them failed in their job, and Cirus felt if anyone was to fail here, it would be him. They all had their roles to play, the Captain’s had made that clear when explaining to him what was going on. There was no such thing as an unimportant member of this delegation. Even if he only ended up standing there holding the banner during some staged ceremony, he would be representing a legacy that had a muddy history at this point, it was his job to help it to shine again. No pressure for a Soldier who had only a few months ago been unable to channel without being angry at the world around him.

The city beyond the gate was both amazing and terrifying, even the old city of Caemlyn did not compare to the stonework that Tar Valon had to offer. As stunning as the structure of the city was, it was the crowds that made him want to shrink away. There were some stares in awe, but many more of those he saw were filled with hostility. Why shouldn’t they be? The men marching through could, in theory, kill all of them with a flick of their wrist should they choose to. It would never happen, such acts of madness were a thing of the past, but the power to do so was there, and the Asha’man are not bound by the same oaths as the Aes Sedai. His mother had always told him the Asha’man were demons, servants of the shadow who had struck against the White Tower to do his bidding. They would steal away young boys and trade their souls to the shadow in order to gain more soldiers for his army. Looking out at the crowd of faces, he couldn’t help but wonder if some of those rumors had come from this city.

[Gareth Trakand]

The shroud of the night had blanketed Caralain as the moon took her place in the sky, yet Asha'man, Dedicated, Soldiers, and even Captains hustled this way and that about the Black Tower. Some were preparing for the departure to the White Tower while others went about in their nightly routines. Gareth nearly collided with at least three other men on his way out to the yard but managed to make it to his horse without any mishaps. As he packed his horse with his belongings, Gareth glanced over at Cirus. Only two years ago had Ishara convinced him to track the youth down like one would hunt a stag and now the Prince considered him as a dear friend. Since the pair both arrived at the Black Tower at the same time, Gareth decided to look after him as if he were his younger brother. He was so young but also he didn't have anyone, a fact that saddened the Prince. He couldn't imagine his life without the people he cared about being in it hence he did his best to ensure Cirus didn't feel alone. So for the twelve days that they traveled, Gareth rode Alabak side by side with Cirus. They conversed about the day they met, what it was like to be training at the Black Tower, current events, the weather, and other such things. It helped to make the journey far more pleasurable, except for whenever Rhian decided to join them.

Rhian al'Mathin. Gareth met him the same day he met Cirus yet their relationship was anything but friendly. Which said a lot, for there were few that the Prince didn't get along with, and Rhian, well he was right at the top of that list. The man was arrogant, a scoundrel, a womanizer, and many other displeasing things. Not to mention he had the nerve to kiss his sister despite being well beneath her. It was the first time he'd seen anyone other than their parents kiss her and it was also the first time Gareth had punched someone. Breaking Rhian's nose was well worth the inappropriate action as far as he was concerned. And now, whenever Rhian was close, Gareth found a reason to be sketching, writing poetry, or reading rather than engage in a conversation with him. He hardly knew if he could control his urge to burn his face as he nearly had two years ago. Then again, he supposed he should be grateful that Rhian's actions had enraged him so, otherwise, he may have never learned he could channel. But Gareth still disliked him with a passion, a feeling in which he doubted would ever change. All displeasure was forgotten though the moment Tar Valon came into view.

It was a vast, breathtaking city that he'd spent eight years of his youth within. Though far grander as well as more spectacular than Caemlyn, Gareth couldn't help but prefer his birthplace. Yet his heart did glow with bliss as they approached the glistening city. For Tar Valon may not be his home but it did house three of his most beloved souls within: Ishara, Elaira, and Taivin. Ever since the Prince joined the Black Tower, he rarely saw any of them. It had been one of the reasons he'd signed up to take part in the Delegation between the two Towers. True he never expected to be one of those selected for the occasion but was grateful that he was. Although he suspected there wouldn't be much time for him to interact with any of the three. Still, he clung to the hope of even the possibility that he would.

A mixture of disdain, excitement, bewilderment, and fear swept through the crowd that had gathered to observe the arrival of their party. It was an odd experience for Gareth, as he'd grown accustomed to cheers whenever crowds formed to see him... But this was not Caemlyn and he was not here as the 1st Prince of the Sword. And though he supposed he needed to grow accustomed to not always receiving a warm welcome, his concern fell more on Cirus than himself. He worried how the boy was holding up with so many eyes on them and not all of them pleasant. Pulling back on Alabak's reins, Gareth flashed Cirus a warm smile that he could only hope would help comfort him. After the Tower Wars led by Rahlin, Gareth could hardly blame people for their distrust of the Black Tower. Only time would tell whether that event would be put behind them to lead way to a brighter and more peaceful future. A future that depended upon the success of today and as he dismounted Alabak, Gareth gazed up at the glimmering white building with hope. Hope for a brighter tomorrow.