The queue for this circle was much shorter, and ended in front of another Farrian official, this one was flanked by four large Farrian guards in green-robed uniforms. The guards all had shaved heads. None of them carried weapons, but they gave off the impression that they didn’t need to.

The official was short and spindly and had a face like a mule, with a patchy mustache above his overbite.

“State your business, foreigners,” the official snapped when they got to the front of the queue.

Nuthea spoke for them. “We seek an audience with the Governor.”

“Ha! What are you really here for?”

“Just what she said, butt-pimple,” said Sagar.

Nuthea facepalmed.

The guards rumbled and took a half step forward.

Ryn thought he better intervene. “Apologies for my friend’s rudeness;” he said, thinking that he had better intervene, ignoring Sagar when he said “I’m not your friend.” “We’ve had a very long flight. But we really are looking to talk with your ruler.”

“That’s right,” Nuthea joined him. “I am Princess Nutheanna Kaleutheanna of the Queendom of Manolia, and my companions and I seek an audience with the Governor of Farr.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said the official. “We don’t have time for jokes. Next!”

“No!” protested Nuthea. “I’m serious! Why don’t you believe me? Look, let me prove to you that I’m a member of the Manolian royal family.”

Nuthea held out her hand, palm up.

Ryn fully expected some lightning to leap from it, or crackle around it, or at least for some sparks to jump off it.

Nothing happened.

“That’s strange…” said Nuthea, holding her hand up to her face to inspect it like it was a broken piece of equipment.

“Move along please,” said the official irritably. “Take your jokes somewhere else, we’re very busy here.”

“But you don’t understand…” said Nuthea. “I am Jewel touched... I must be...blocked for some reason...”

“Move along now or I will have you forcibly removed from the premises.”

Nuthea turned to one side. “Ryn, as I’m having some temporary difficulties, would you do the honours?”

It took him a moment to realise what she meant. “Oh. Sure.” He stepped forward and held out his own hand, willing fire. To his relief, but not surprise, an orange flame appeared, hovering above his own palm. Thankfully whatever was ‘blocking’ Nuthea didn’t seem to be a problem for him.

The official’s thin eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Ah. I see,” he said, his gaze finding the fire, then darting quickly around the courtyard. “Put it away, boy, or you’ll cause a disturbance.”

Ryn allowed the fire to disappear.

“Manolia, you said?” the official asked.

“Yes,” said Nuthea. “I am a royal emissary from Manolia. Ryn here is from Efstan; Sagar from Imfis; Elrann from Zerlan; Cid from [Erm]; and Vish is from Aibar. We are here to talk to the Governor about some matters pertaining to the Primeval Jewels, which grant powers of manipulation over the different elements, as just evidenced to you by my companion Ryn. We have flown a long way to get here, and we have important news for your Governor concerning these Jewels and the Empire of Morekemia. May we have an audience with him?”

The official sighed. “You had better come with me.”

He beckoned, turned, and led them at last through the entryway of the huge earthen structure that stood behind him, the mountain on top of the mountain.

Its walls were formed of brown earth, and the structure was windowless, but rather than being lit by torches it was lit by amber bars. It really was like walking into a giant anthill that had been colonised by humans. The walls were largely bare, but adorned at intervals with hangings. The Farrians had a very particular art style, of painting in earthy colours like browns, reds and greens, but with meticulous attention to detail.

The hangings depicted various figures passing through the motions of different complex, elaborate poses. Sometimes there was more than one figure and the poses interacted with one another. Whether they were meant to be dancing or fighting, Ryn could not work out. On some of the hangings the figures carried weapons--swords or staves or whips or clubs, pretty much every weapon imaginable--but on most of them they didn’t.

They wound their way down a series of passages and up staircases, passing rooms at which more officials sat at round tables holding forth with each other, or in which others sat at rows of desks and poured over reams of paper. The whole place was a hub of activity, but it was a focused, disciplined kind of activity entirely undertaken by native Farrians, in contrast to the chaos of buying and selling and of arriving and departing undertaken by travelers from all over Mid in the city outside.

Eventually they came to a large, circular chamber where, instead of being flat or curved, the high ceiling sloped inwards to a single point far above their heads.

They had reached the peak of the mountain upon the mountain, Ryn realised.

He couldn’t help comparing the chamber of the Governor of Farr to Nuthea’s throne room in Orma. Aside from the fact that each was a large room, the two couldn’t be more different. Instead of a throne on a raised dais at the back of the room, the Governor sat at a wooden desk in the centre of the room. Instead of rows of chairs in front of him, only two wooden chairs were positioned in front of the desk. Instead of being flanked by guards on either side, only one guard stood at the entrance to the chamber to let them in, another unarmed hulk of a man with a bald head and a smiling face, dressed in the green robes that seemed to be the uniform here. The whole place reminded Ryn more of the office of the clerk in the Healing House in Nonts where he had first met Cid than of the palace of the ruler of a country.

The man who Ryn assumed was the Governor of Farr stood up at his desk as the official walked them over to it. A squat, rotund man in brown robes, clean-shaven with an expression like a constipated bulldog. Not a crown, nor a circlet, but a large, cyclindrical brown hat sat atop his head.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Governor barked. “This is highly irregular!”

“I’m sorry, Lord Governor,” squeaked the official as he led them in. “But these foreigners have something important to tell you!”

“What could they possibly have to tell me that’s important? I’m in the middle of my morning auditing!”

Nuthea spoke up. “Governor, I apologise for the unusual and unannounced nature of my visit, but the news I bring is sensitive. My name is Princess Nutheanna Kaleutheanna and I am an emissary from the Matriarchy of Manolia. I come bearing news of the Primeval Jewels.”

The Governor had opened his mouth to speak again, but now he paused a moment and his frown deepened, suspicion wrinkling up his fat forehead. “What do you know of the Primeval Jewels?” he said much more quietly.

“We know that they exist, we know that we have two of them, and most importantly we know that the Emperor of Morekemia has learned of their existence and has begun to look for them. We also know that you have one of them.”

“Ah.” The Governor sat back down in his chair. He looked up at the official who had brought them in. “Leave us, Yal.”

“But Lord Governor--” the official began to protest

“Leave us! the Governor barked.

“Yes, Lord Governor,” said Yal, and left. The guard in green closed the doors after him and stood in front of them.

The Governor of Farr spoke more slowly now. “First of all, do you have any proof of what you claim? I suppose you must have in order to have been granted entrance to see me.”

“Ryn?” invited Nuthea.

Ryn stepped forward and showed a flame on his hand again.

“Alright, alright!” said the Governor. “Put it away, boy! You might cause an accident.” He sighed. “Well, that shows you are Jewel-touched, at least. But what of the Emperor in the West?”

“He has learned of the Jewels,” said Nuthea without pausing. “He desires them, and has been moving to seize them, wherever he can find trace of them.”

The Governor nodded. “Yes, that does explain reports we have of goings on in the West. Thank you for the warning, Manolian. You may leave me now.”

“Hang on!” said Sagar. “Aren’t you going to hear what we want?”

“What you ‘want’? You are in no position to be making demands of me.”

“Forgive my companion’s rashness, Governor,” said Nuthea, “but it is true that we did not just come here to give you information, but to make a request.”

“Well spit it out then. What is it?”

Nuthea hesitated very slightly. “The six of us are seeking to gather the Jewels together, to protect them from the Emperor. We would ask that you give us the Earth Emerald to look after for safekeeping.”

“Ah. Well, the problem in that case would be that we don’t have it.”