Tristania - Aphelion
Maximillian yearned for days of yore, but time stopped for no-one and he was stuck in the present. Long ago, before the dreams has begun Maximillian was a simple farmer. Now, he was the Prophet for the Queen.
Despite his yearning, he lived quite comfortably, but he was never allowed to leave his tower except to visit the catacombs where the mirror of souls was kept. The mirror couldn't be moved, while it appeared perfectly mundane, touching it would inflict the most gruesome burns and looking into it's swirling, blood-red glass could drive even the sanest man to madness. With Maximillian it was different, the mirror gave him insights beyond which his own prophetic vision would allow, bestowing upon him the ability to see many possible futures all at once, though the experience always left him feeling somewhat confounded.
As the winter winds danced outside, Maximillian thought idly of his last vision, what he liked to call his divine daydreams. The Queen was worried about the impending war and so he had been summoned for a reading of the mirror. The things he had seen had scared him. Something bad was going to happen, something that cast a dark shadow across the future so that all he could see was an empty vastness. It did not bode well.
Once again, the past called to him. It was so much simpler back then when he could have been blithely ignorant of the whole affair. Instead of confiding in the sanctuary of his memory, he had instead confided his fears in his friend, the Lady Schala Beldeve, a devotee of the Arcanum Magistrate.
Lady Schala had originally been assigned to study his prophetic talents. It was obvious they were arcane in origin but as a test of her abilities, she was to do research to determine more information. Over the years he had been kept here, Maximillian had grown to like Schala and they had become firm friends.
That was why he had warned her of the impending crisis. He had sworn her to secrecy, if the Queen discovered what they had done she would surely have Schala executed. He couldn't bare to see Schala's pale, silvery body drained of blood and fed to the Queens hounds. Not again. He had already seen it happen, in a glance beyond his eyelids into the realm of prophecy. He cursed his weakness, his need to tell someone what he had saw and thus putting her at risk. She was precious to him, more than he had ever let on. Seeing the future he knew things could not work between them, not with things as they were now, but his heart lived firmly in the present and was oblivious.
There was a knock on the door that draw him out of his revery then and he answered it, a mournful look still on his face.
"The Queen requests your services once more Master Trellis"
"Very well, I'll be right down."
"Lady Beldeve shall also be present."
Maximillian swallowed slowly. "Oh, how delightful. Shall we get going then."
The servant nodded and turned back towards the doorway, leading Maximillian down the stairs slowly. To what fate, Maximillian would have to wait and see, this was one event he had told to foretell.