Heart of the Gemini

Trio

The air inside the inner sanctum of the Selesnya Conclave hung heavy with the smell of blood. The cradle of life on Ravnica had been tainted by the lifeless body of a proud warrior-centaur, slowly bleeding from a wound hidden beneath his shining armour. The dark blood clashed violently against the bright green of the sanctuary garden, a visual scar that was reflected in the eyes of the three beings who had gathered to witness the crisis.
On the left stood a vedalken, easily the most unusual creature to be seen inside the Conclave walls. His bright blue skin and stern gaze made him uncomfortable company, even in a Guild that preached welcome for all. But he was not interested in welcome: he was an emissary of the Azorius Senate, the Guild which valued logic and reason over all emotion, and was thus home to more vedalken than all the other guilds combined. On his robe he wore a large print of the maze-like insignia representing the three pillars of the famously-complicated Azorius legal system.
On the right was another creature rarely seen outside of her own Guild. Though humanoid, she could as much be called human as the blue-skinned four-armed vedalken. Rather her impressive height, radiating gold armour and considerable wingspan marked her as none other than an angel of the Boros Legion, the keepers of justice and the absolute enforcers of the Guildpact. Her hands rested on the handle of a golden sword, so long no human warrior could wield it, the tip of which rested in the grass between her feet.
Between her two guests stood Trostani, the triple-voiced Guildmaster of the Selesnya. Originally a trio of sister elves, the Trostani had long ago merged to become a single being, a unified mind of three to rule a collective mind of thousands. Now, every mind in the collective could feel her pain, her anger, and her sorrow, regardless of distance or species. Such was the power of the mental telepathy known only to the Selesnya.
Between them, the emissaries represented three of the four High Guilds of Ravnica: those that were aligned with the power of White mana. Only one Guild had been deliberately excluded from this meeting, as they were to be the topic of its conversation – the Orzhov Syndicate.

High above the city, in the darkened alcove of an abandoned spire, Liliana Vess watched the gathering from the safety of her shadows. Every few moments she raised two fingers and gently caressed the hard shell of the small beetle sitting in her palm. It had been a gift from Jarad, and a particularly useful one at that. The sightbinder-beetles were a unique magic of the Golgari, and were well used in maintaining control over the otherwise lawless undercity. In conjunction with the one she had planted inside the dead centaur’s body, Liliana would hear every word and see all that was to be seen in the otherwise secret meeting between Trostani and the guild representatives. She felt the beetle let out a slight tremor similar to a purr, and let the magic of the insect fill her mind with thoughts, images and sounds.

“So it is true,” came the angel’s thunderous tones. “All three Guilds have been attacked this day?”
“We cannot say for certain that these attacks are co-ordinated,” the vedalken replied in a steely tone. “After all, your soldier died at the hands of a Rakdos: hardly an uncommon phenomenon.”
The angel set the Azorius mage-wright with an impatient look. “As I have explained,” she continued, “this was unlike any of our encounters with them in the past. The cultists kill for pleasure or entertainment, travelling in groups and targeting vulnerable citizens in the streets. Today, the target was a veteran, a renowned and respected leader. You could not have approached him undetected if he slept.” Pride replaced grief in the angel’s voice for a moment, but it was lost just as quickly.
“And what of the senator who was killed?” the left face of Trostani asked, speaking for the first time. “Was he guarded?”
The Vedalken shifted uncomfortably before regaining his composure. “Senator Lygelf was well-known for his… paranoias. As a result he had one of the strongest protection details of any of the Azorius.”
“Then how was he killed?” asked the right Trostani face.
“That is unclear. But a brand was found on his body, just as with the Boros commander. It was the mark of the Unseen: the Dimir.”
The right-most face of Trostani seemed to choke on shock and grief, so the left-most face replied. “The centaur Karrilek was one of our finest warriors, and a master healer. It would have taken a very powerful evil to undo him.”
“His death will be recorded in the city annuals,” the vedalken offered in his infallible procession.
“More important than your scrying,” replied the angel tersely, “we must determine why these attacks are happening, and what is to be done about them. Or are we to continue to allow our strongest advocates to be murdered before our eyes?”
Trostani, ever the voice of peace, raised her hands between the two ambassadors. This time it was her central face that spoke. “Our warrior’s body bares the mark of the Golgari. This concern us greatly, as it now seems that each of our great guilds is being targeted by our closest equals: those sharing the mana of Green, Red or Blue, but separated by the use of Black instead of White mana. We believe this may be the final message.”
“More likely, the final threat,” the angel added.
“Either way,” said the vedalken, “what does it mean?”
The central Trostani face closed her eyes for a few moments, in which time the other two speakers waited in silence. When her eyes reopened, it was clear much significance hung on her next words.
“What of the Orzhov?” the musical voice asked. “Have they suffered any such attack?”
“None that have been reported,” replied the vedalken confidently. In his infallible logic, no report meant no attack. The angel was less sure.
“If they have been attacked,” she said, “they may be hiding the fact. Second only to the Dimir, they are the guild most favouring deception as strategy. However, I do not believe they will suffer as we have suffered.”
“And why should they be immune?” the vedalken replied coarsely.
“Because unlike us,” the angel started, her voice low and heavy, “the Orzhov have no direct moral opposite under the Guildpact. The elemental Guilds such as the Izzet League may claim moral neutrality, but the Orzhov go further. By embracing both White and Black mana equally, they are the natural moral enemies of none of the guilds… and all of them.”
It was then that Trostani rose to her full height and solemnly addressed the two ambassadors.

“A war?!” said the vedalken. In human terms it was mild exasperation at best, but for the blue-skinned elf-folk it was the equivalent of blind rage. “If any but the Trostani had said such words, I should have left already!”
“For once, I am forced to agree with the Azorius,” said the angel. “The Orzhov are not to be trusted, to be sure, but to be capable of that... it is unthinkable!”
“Not intentionally, perhaps,” replied the central, and strongest Trostani face. “But their insistence to proceed with their upcoming festival puts us all in danger. It is our belief that the Guilds of Black mana are rallying in response what they see as a threat to their very existence.”
“We have argued from the beginning that this ‘Festival of Balance’ must be ended before it can do any more damage.” The vedalken’s words were judging and absolute, the very tenants of the Azorius.
“We agree,” said the Trostani face. “But they are a Guild of Ravnica, and a High Guild at that. As such, must be heard.”
“Send for Teysa Karlov,” said the angel. “She speaks for the Obzedat, the Ghost Council. Let her answer for the charges on their behalf.”
From her seat above the throat of the city, Liliana’s smile split into a wide grin. The time had finally come for her to move on the Guilds themselves. After all, there was no point impersonating one of the most powerful magi on Ravnica... without an invitation.
The little humming beetle flew off her palm and out the open window, before flittering off in the direction of the Golgari hive. Meanwhile Liliana, adorning the ivory mask of the Orzhov Baroness, and beneath it, enough dark magic to convince even the Trostani she was Teysa, descended the stairs from the tower.