Flying Devices

Concordia, Six Hundred and Eighty Years Before

Thaelen had established Medelyn in a small house within a short walk of his own, although in a less fashionable and exclusive street. The Estreans liked to have outward markers of their place in society and their wealth, and where the houses on Thaelen’s street were declarations of wealth and power, in Medelyn’s street they were neat and tidy but of a more modest size.

He knocked on the front door and the maid that he had employed to help with the house opened it, bobbing a curtsey. She showed him straight into the parlour before heading upstairs to fetch down Medelyn.

Medelyn did not keep him waiting long, hurrying into the room, fidgeting with her hair before smoothing her hands down over her skirt in one of those unconscious gestures that women performed when concerned about their appearance.

“Tasan,” she greeted him the warmth not disguising her nerves. “Forgive me. I was just putting my youngest to bed. He is going through that age…”