The Tari's Choosing | 280 S.A.

[Tainga 521]

 

Issued the 280th Year of the Second Age by the office of

THE HIGH QUEEN 

 

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Lo, what a rare delight it is when the people of Idunia are granted a spectacle such as this. Not long after the golden coronation of my beloved Tar-Pharazôn, we made our way to the grand ballroom of Minas Aradar, where candles flickered in anticipation of our arrival.  Faces turned, eyes brightened, and I offered a nod to each as you followed the path behind the throne, into the light of the hall.

 

And what a wonder awaited within. Music, soft and lilting, curled through the room. Carrying the dancers as they traced their arcs across the floor. Gowns shimmered, laughter sparkled, and the light caught upon jewels and hairpins alike, scattering brilliance in every direction. The air hummed with anticipation and delight, a celebration truly worthy of the coronation of our King. And yet… I confess, my own heart carried a purpose beyond mere festivity.

 

In the brief time I have held the mantle of Tari, I have come to understand how few duties truly lie before me. I scoured the chronicles of those who came before me, seeking guidance in tradition, in wisdom, in the sparks of brilliance left by past Tari… only to find emptiness. A void I could not abide.

 

So, on the night of the Caladengîl Gala, I chose to change it. I entered the room with eyes that danced from one corner to the next, pausing finally at a seat placed against the wall, from which I could survey all. Together with the High Chancellor, I conceived something new, something I dare say is delightful.

 

Every Queen, I have discovered, requires her ladies in waiting. Not as ornaments, mind you, but as companions. Guardians and architects of influence. They are to be trusted hands in times of ceremony, protectors of our children, and co-creators of the spirit of the court. Yet in our halls, there have been none. 

 

Of course, I understand why. Why would we? There was no need. Our women are trained from birth to lead, to excel, to carve a place for themselves in the world. Scholars and merchants, warriors and knights. Ambition is in their blood, devotion in their bones. And I, too, am of this ilk. I do not seek to fill my court with those who cannot, or will not, carve their own path. Who exist merely to perform for praise.

 

No. I am calling forth something different. The women I summon shall embody courage, facing hardship and pursuing what is just. They shall carry compassion as armor, acting with kindness even when no eyes witness. Confidence shall temper their words, clarity their purpose, authenticity their hallmark. They shall uplift, inspire, and kindle a flame that spreads far beyond these walls. A living symbol of the values we hold dear, and of what our people may aspire to be. 

 

They shall be Nárhînil. My Nárhînil.

 

 

As I took my seat at the head of the ballroom, all eyes seemed to follow me, though none dared to speak. My gaze swept the dancefloor, lingering on the women who had assembled for this most curious of evenings. My daughters stood before me, their own judgmental gazes mirroring mine, sharp and unyielding, yet amusing in their scrutiny. The air was alive with music, soft, lilting strings of violin weaving through the chatter. 

 

The hour grew late, the sun slipping behind the horizon while the moon rose to lend silvered witnesses, and it was then that the choosing of the Nárhînil began. One by one, seven women of Idunia stepped forward, a line of brilliance and beauty arrayed before me.

 

“What makes your vassal differ from others? And what beauty is found in the vassal, as a part of the High Kingdom of Idunia?”

 

Mereid Callaghan, the most humble, hailed from Tir-Glas. The eldest among them, she carried with her a calm steadiness. Humility seemed to follow her like a shadow, a gentle reminder of the origins and values that define us. With her presence came a quiet certainty that anchored the room

 

Tilidhil Hartwyck, whose hands had known toil and hardship, hailed from Angrenost. A doctor by trade, a scar etched across her face, she exuded resilience tempered with approachability. She was both strength and solace, the kind of person to stand as rock and refuge, yet soft enough to invite trust and companionship. Experience had carved her but elegance had followed close behind. 

 

Genevieve d’Artagnan, who held the pride of a lion, hailed from the Barrowlands. Youngest out of them all, her presence shimmered with bright directness. She carried herself with endearing boldness, a living testament to familial pride, reminding all present that even youth could shine with clarity and purpose.

 

Eugenie Cecile, graceful and deliberate, hailed from Petra. She spoke not only for herself but for the weight of her lineage, tracing back to Saint Emma and the Queens of Petra. Titles rolled from her lips like a cascade of history, each word steeped in the honor and dignity of those who had come before her. She embodied purpose, and the past itself seemed to rise with her presence. 

 

Aurelian Greye, a master of both elegance and weaponry, hailed from Ildon. Unlike the rest, she brought a blade to her introduction, and I could not hide my delight. Her pledge was evident in every measured word, recounting the resilience of her people after demons had attacked their shores. Strength and honor walked with her. “For those who do not run from that which crumbles, but clings to the dream, rebuilds it back up.” 

 

Sylfrid Colborn, practiced and poised, hailed from Kazan. Confidence poured from her, measured yet effortless, as she recounted the proud history of her people, the Scyflings, and the loyalty of Kazan itself. Every gesture, every inflection carried intention. And when she spoke of her family motto, Family Through Fire, the words rang true. Uniting pride with devotion, elegance with substance.

 

Sofia Euler, who was the most charming, hailed from Adria. She approached with deliberate poise, a banner of her family balanced atop her head, and she spoke with both wit and grace. Soft at first, her words painted a picture of the land and its beauty, before she revealed two precious books of her own creation. In that moment, her pride in her vassals and their world became tangible, a gift I knew I would cherish long after the evening ended. Greatly was she amusing.

 

“What makes a Lady of Idunia the most admirable indeed?”

 

It was in these answers, these expressions of strength, grace, and ingenuity, that I found myself smiling with pride. My daughters whispered and pointed, each calling attention to those who had caught their favor. I confess it would have delighted me to grant all seven a place in my court, yet such indulgence would serve neither ceremony nor purpose. To earn my favor, one must first win the favor of the people. Only then can she uplift them in return.

 

Among the seven, one stood luminous above the rest, winning the people's favor and, with it, my own. 

 

─────────  Sofia Euler of Belgrade ───────── 

Illustrated by  Lady Medliel-Isilmë Lominziliel Mithrenion 280 S.A.

 

It was she who had won the people's favor. It was she who had spoken with honesty and courage, revealing herself fully before all. She had shown her work, her heart, her spirit, and in doing so displayed courage, compassion and confidence without pretense. And in her words there was authenticity. An understanding that we are all complex, made of light and shadow, of admirable virtues and less desired flaws alike. 

 

It was she whom the people had chosen. It was she they entrusted with their hopes, their admiration, their vote of confidence. And it is she who shall be the first of my Nárhînil. 

 

For she has won my favor in turn. In her hands now rests a red chrysanthemum, the mark of a Nárhînil, a flame maiden. With it, she joins my court, not merely as a companion, but as a living inspiration. She shall uplift others, guide them to kindle their own fires, and help those flames bloom as she has.

 

May her strength remain steadfast, her heart unwavering, and may her flame guide all whom she serves and lead. 

 

Well done, my Nárhînil.

 

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SIGNED,

HER ROYAL MAJESTY, Tari-Ashael Malôs Harren Arthalion, by the blessing of Aeradar, High Queen of Idunia, Chiefess of the Númenedain and the Tribe of Harren, Defender of the Númenaranyë, Sovereign of Alduun, Master of the Sharadûn, Protector of the Adunians, Knight of the Realm, Ascendant of Orodaeglir, Trailbearer of Tar-Númenetâr

HER DISTINGUISHED EXCELLENCY, Lady Medliel-Isilmë Lominziliel Mithrenion, High Chancellor of Idunia, the Moonlit Maiden, Squire of the Order of the Silver Stag & Iron Guard, and Daughter of House Mithrenion.

 

[jihsoo 746]

Carefully did her brush guide upon the circle-canvas, a mutter under her breath as Medliel-Isilme smeared green upon her tanned cheek, tilting her head, the brush then angled before newly deemed, Nárhînil's face. 

"I hope I captured her likeness well enough. Barathan will likely not let me hear the end of it."

[Cryptic 549]

Barathan d'Artagnan saw the missive and smiled! At the portrait he had commissioned for Sofia be published, the Hand of the Tar kept the gorgeous picture in his wallet.

 

 

[ApetheticOrange96 92]

Veyric spotted the missive in the pile of missives brought in by his servant... reading it he recalls the gala, the evening was amazing... then seeing the chosen of the Tari, mutters "congrats lady Sofia, im sure you will do amazing in your role..." then setting it aside he returns to his alchemy treatise

[danhjkk 27]

Hilda read the missive regarding the events of the Gala. She didn't remember much, but remembered being proud of her niece.
"Ah. Too bad she didn't get chosen. Oh well. Maybe next time." 
She folded the missive neatly and shoved it somewhere in her room before continuing to perform monthly maintenance on her weapons and gear.

[Curry 115]

Isak Euler read the missive and began to cheer in celebration for his good cousin Sofia Euler. Hearing of there being a money price involved too, he started making his search for her around Adria, of course to congratulate her in person, and probably try and take the money as well. 

Edited April 10 by Curry

[confusedjester 809]

Sidhiel smiled as Sofia was granted the title. She had been Sidhiel's first pick, after all.

[Glue 40]

She had been nervous upon taking the bold move to stand beside her fellow women, women who appeared much younger than she and far more experienced in court. Had it not been for the coaxing from her husband, Tîlîdhil might not have chosen to do such a thing.

 

Verily did she answer the questions posed to her, and thusly did she enjoy hearing the others' responses to such. Tîlîdhil had never been much on the use of words, finding that more often than not, less was more. It was here that she had her mind changed and so did her courage bolster.

 

Even though she had not been chosen, there was a simple pride in watching Nárhînil claim such a wondrous prize. Surely there would be a next time, and there, Tîlîdhil would find herself standing amongst her people.

[TaraJess 2848]

Aurelian's head tilted upon reading the first few paragraphs of the missive. 

"This too is a new tradition... a creative woman the Tari is... I eagerly await whatever she creates next"

[User1nvalid 10]

Astarmë was quick to take the missive the moment it was finally ready for the public to view, curiosity bright in her eyes as she read the page.
 

When she reached the name Sofia Euler, her expression softened into a small, pleased smile. Though she was not her first pick, she was still the one who had stood out among them and, in turn, won the hearts of the people. She quietly wondered what Sofia Euler would make of her new role.
 

Her mind then drifted to the evening itself, to all that had been said and done. There would be more to come, and perhaps even the same names would return, trying again. She would be eagerly awaiting such, and was even more pleased to see her mother venture out and create something new.
 

Astarmë tucked the missive neatly away, an anticipation settling in her chest. It had been her first ball and already, she found she could not get enough.