I Respectfully Disagree...

''One of the largest rooms within Dawnstar Keep, the War Room is also one of the most brightly lit, thanks mostly to the ceiling featuring a stained-glass dome depicting nothing more than an interlace of colors and light.

The central feature of the War Room is the large, round redwood table that dominates much of the floor space from within its position in the middle of the room. Polished to a deep shine, it has space for twelve people to sit around it at equidistant positions, and thus comes equipped with a number of highback redwood chairs for that very purpose.

Set atop the standard red-with-gold-trim carpeting against the usual backdrop of dark bluish-gray stone, the redwood table shares the War Room with a number of other items of furniture, such as the trio of sturdy desks tucked into an open alcove on the northern side of the room, and the various bookshelves that line the walls, complete with documents and maps of trade routes and Imperial Fort locations that would be out of place within the main library.

Serving as a place of study, business, politics, or simple retreat, the War Room is a location that is tasked with a number of roles when the need arises, but remains mostly empty and quiet all the same. Of curious note, one can also find a steel crossbow quarrel firmly lodged in the southern wall.''

Time: Late Evening, Place: Dawnstar Keep's Warroom, Reason: TBA.

STARRING: Rowena Valoria, Naoi Cloth, Celeste Valoria, Varal Valoria

House business. Maintenance. Parchment work. These three things are among the list of Rowena Valoria's least favorite chores. The Duchess has holed herself away rather openly, remaining accessible and not yet retreating to her private quarters. Seated at the table, she shuffles through a small pile of notices, requests, land surveys, and patrol reports. Through the darkening clouds above, the moonlight begins to overtake the sun's dying glow over the horizon and filters easily in through the glass dome overhead. In order to supplement the natural light, several candles have been lit about the room, softening the strain on her Grace's eyes.

Naoi trails the doorman up to the public retreat of the Duchess, nodding her thanks quietly before slipping past and ahead of the man even as she announces her presence. To his credit, he retains a smooth and even timber. Partly because after that sudden burst of movement from the Ordinator, she dares or chooses not to advance any further, lingering inside and just right of the doorway. The candlelight flickers off the embossed cuirass, gauntlets sliding off as she loosens the strap. When Rowena looks to her, she'd lower herself to one knee in a modified bow. "Your grace, I apologize for the hour of my calling."

"Hah," Rowena says softly in turn, retracting her hands from her work and placing them flat on the table. Twisting aside, she bows her head where she sits and motions with a silent hand for the doorman to leave them. "You'll find that I am more alert during the evening hours than when in the presence of the lazy sun, actually, so your timing was indeed most convenient. Please," Motioning her visitor further inside, she gestures to the several available chairs, "Come in."

Naoi nods, moving forward to take one of the chairs. The metal gloves are hanged on the belt, and the chair scrapes back, a soft hiss off wood over stone. Then, she slowly settles her weight down onto her seat. There is an almost palpable sigh of relief, eyes clouding for a moment, before the blink of gray eyes and a shake of the head brings her back. "I am sorry. It is fortunate then, for I would not wish your decision to be muddled in anyway. I am not one who tends to waste time, and much less when calling high above my station. You have heard of Thayndor, the mage who nows sits in one of the Kingdom's prisons?"

"Aye," Rowena nods solemnly, leaning back in her chair with a false image of comfort. "I'm told there's been conflict in who shall head the investigation and prosecution. Religious authority? Or Imperial Law? Have the Warpriest and Grand Master reconciled their powers and chosen to work together? Or is it I should sense that argument and uncertainty remains, whilst the fool Thayndor rots..."

"Both seem proud, and now, stubborn. It is not my place to suggest who is right, who is wrong. I am simply working within the bounds of what is acceptable for me, and if I must stretch them, with proper assistance and one can hope... blessing. The fool is a fine title, and there is poetic justice in keeping him locked in a cage, instead of suffering him to run free. I think, though, it is our responsibility to lend him something... better then that. I wish to herald his return to polite society, courtesy of one of the Chapels and an Ordinator. Perhaps Night's Edge. The exact hows and why are undecided, of course, and open to guidance. First, I must convince the Grandmaster. Then, the Warpriest. Then, convince both to work together and still follow the path set for us. The government fears the return of the Scourge, and the Ordinators... being mistaken as such. So, we are limited. Handicapped. Made impotent. If we may not judge, I do seek to be able to guide."

"Before Serath left our world, he granted the Warpriest authority over all matters of religion and the arcane." Rowena states firmly in tone while her eyes remain -for the timebeing- impassive. "Just as the Grand Master has final word, save for His Highness, over the matters of Imperial Law. Conveniently, Sirrah Thayndor's infractions have crossed both those lines in one fell swoop, thereby enabling both bodies of our leadership to act. And, if he is kept in too foul conditions, the third body - me - will throw her weight into the mess." Rolling her wrists, she continues with a deep breath. "The Warpriest came to me some time ago seeking similar advice and confiding in me similar fears. Will the Cult's importance be undermined? Only if we allow it so. The Warpriest did mention that if Thayndor's actions were without malicious intention then yes, it would be better to institutionalize him in a place such as Night's Edge, where he can be 'educated' in how better to exhibit self-control. Where he can repay his earned debt to the disrupted populace. I agree to that. However," Waggling a finger in Naoi's direction, she adds "If the mage's intentions /were/ deliberately to strike fear and harm, then I would expect punishment to be dealt in accordance with the law. It's therefore a question of how best - and whom shall - investigate the situation fully."

"Not the Cult's influence, your grace, but my own. It seems, sometimes, it is encouraged I be nothing but the maid of the chapels, so others can wander by, see how pretty it is, then move along and marvel that they have done a good thing today, stopping by to offer prayer to a power we, even I, only understand in passing. Is it selfish to suggest such?" Naoi asks, then offers a short laugh. "Of course it is, even if my intentions are good. Not so long ago, my sisters would have stringed me up and burned me dry quite quickly. Then again, I am not the prince, I am just a young girl born to a family that believed they could not protect me. So, they gave me to something they suspected would. I do try, and this is an opportunity that to show my devotion to my faith. Not a church, made of wealthy stone and fine wood, but a life. Fresh, stripped of the decay, and shoved forward for redemption."

She sniffs, "I am ahead of myself, but... I wanted it to be known. Not all this is simple ambition for the life I have thrown in. It involves a man. I am enough of a human to keep that in mind. And I was warned of politics when I first accepted the Book. If... you have answers, I would very much like to hear them."

"What has been done thus far in terms of investigation and trial. Anything? Witnesses?" Rowena questions as response, resting a contemplative finger over her lips. "I am not so well versed in the law or theology - of this day or last - to battle successively through its tangling snare of political interventions. But I do know that the whole process must move forward if it is to move at all. And motion will require cooperation of both the Law and the Cult."

"No, your Grace. No sentence given, no date for trial set." Naoi responds, "I had seeked the audience of the Duke of Driscol, as I am responsible for the Chapel in his home district, but he holds very strong feelings regarding to the Mage, deeper then the issues at hand, longstanding bitterness that even with his wisdom, does not leave him objective."

"Might I suggest seeking the mediation of greater power?" Rowena murmurs, shaking her head faintly against her inner objection to her own words. "While I may not fancy him to be the most admirable of persons, he does hold the reins over the realm until Talus is of age. Seek the mediation of the Regent - bring this suggestion to the Warpriest. If the Grand Master and Warpriest cannot find resolve to work in parallel with one another, and do their /duty/ to bring this matter to end, then it would be wise to seek the assistance of someone who can perhaps 'suggest' kindly that they recognize their stations and perform as commanded by their titles." Tone having taken on a rather crisp note, it's plain to read by her expression that Rowena has little patience remaining in regards to this petty, political juggling act. "You are right to be concerned, Ordinator," She adds in a slightly gentler note, relaxing from her suddenly stiffened posture. "A man's life dwells currently in limbo, and while he's there, Shadow only knows where his thoughts are turning. Perhaps I just may take interest in visiting him for myself."

"I would suggest it, you have a calming aspect about you." Naoi says, "I, apparently, tend to be cold and brisque. Which, of course, ends up with him suggesting I am a lesser and that I am wife-seeking. I do not know the jump in logic, nor do I really wish to analyze it closely. The man is a chore, but he is still a son of Fastheld. Until, of course, the son strikes the father. I have seen no proof of that, and the good Duchess Zahir has refused request for audience. I... still need to speak with both the Grandmaster and the Warpriest on this issue. Perhaps ardour has cooled, and pride settled. I found both to be remarkable in their own way, though my interaction with the former is less then the latter. If... neither will bend, I will follow the road up, higher, to the Regent. Though, I suspect, your name would bend his ear much more then my own."

Closing her eyes, Rowena permits a small, reminiscent smile to form on her lips. "Zolor, before his bout of opportunistic fortune, and I did have /some/ political interaction. Before Alieron's death and my subsequent rise to Liege of Light's Reach, I was made to negotiate with the Zahir on /his/ behalf to settled a feud. The feud ended without too many foul words. Ill history remains between our blood, but none of which was dealt from /my/ mouth personally. I do not have the authority to instigate the investigations or trial - that is not my responsibility. It could be my responsibility, however, to assess Thayndor's present physical condition in his cell. I invite you to suggest that as well to the Grand Master and Warpriest. I doubt that there would be much objection."

"You speak as if my suggestions carry a weight," Naoi notes, with no real sulleness. It's just spoken as fact. "I will bring up that to both of them thoughts, and I will encourage the two to sit, and speak. Then, I will accept their answers with the humbleness expected of me. It is, after all, my place. May I ask something, your Grace?"

"You called the Prince by his first name." Naoi pointed out, "It suggested familiarity. What... was he like?"

Clearly caught by surprise, Rowena stares blankly for a moment, mouth open in a silent 'o'. "Well, I..." Trailing off, she ducks her chin for a bit with a sheepish smile. "I apologize. It does slip out now and again. He was - used to be - a rather unconventional sort of Prince. Happier in the mud than he was in silks and obsidian. A loyal arm to guard his Brother's life and rein. Fond of mint. Fonder still of rain. And, of course, a certain Duchess." Dipping her brow on that note, she blinks the nostalgia from her eyes and looks more levelly to Naoi. "Something remains of that Prince in the one that exists now, except he's become much more /refined/ in a way. Some might say cold, but I say purposeful. He's accepted what the Light has cast upon his shoulders and so...he's gone. Again. For now." Quieting, she breathes in silence and absently fingers the seraphic Ring of the Stars.

"I know, that, my opinion isn't always wanted, but I feel urged as you have lended me strong counsel, to try to point out what may be comfort for you as well. I have had no special someone, other then my sisters, perhaps, and they... they would despise me now. The Light, is funny. I have heard, time and time again, how the Shadow is a curse they must all bear. That it tempts them down a dark path, time, and time again. That the Light, power without measure and ill effect, is such a wonderful thing. It is... sometimes easy to forget, that the power, it dehumanizes us. It... encourages the belief that we all the world, the people, everything..." Their is hand motions to suggest greater drama, twitching of fingers and wrist in the pure white leather. "... We owe them. Life, our death, our pride, and our service. I have, in the past, reminded that simple can be Light-Blessed. That not everyone is to have that life, no matter their connection with this strange magic. That in simplicity is beauty. Behind the Light, the power, there is the man. The woman. The child. He seemed to me, not that I knew him well or at all, to be the kind of man that when called upon, would deliver that and twice that. Everyone that has spoken -of- him has done so with a curious note of wonder and awe. That, would be the effect of the Light. When I heard you speak his name, it was not amazement or cautious interest. I believe I heard fondness. You knew the man, behind the Light, and that... that is what it means to be blessed. I hope that his fondness for you brings him back."

"If twenty and two years of fondness and four years of betrothal are not reason for him to return, then I'm sure that the sheer terror which my wrath strikes into his heart will hurry him along," Smiling wryly, Rowena cracks her knuckles between one another. "He may run faster, but I'm far more stubborn and patient." Lowering her hands, she releases an eye roll to the ceiling. "You're right in that a certain obligation comes with those gifts. And yes, he would - has twice now - give his life in its name. That is his fate and it is one I've agreed to walk with him. Irritably, he ignored his promise to permit my following this time and snuck away in the night. But he'll be back," she sighs, "An old maid can always wait a little longer."

Both the Ordinator and Duchess are seated around the overly massive War Room table. There's some parchments, letters, and remnants of a meal left piled on its surface and for the time being, those articles appear to be ignored.

"You're not that old," Naoi responds in that dull steel voice of hers. "I will admit, I am a bit jealous. I have never had the opportunity to know courtship. Nor, I suspect, is there much for a bitter fruit. I was always fond of the few romantic novels well-hidden in the Church. Not that they were the graphic, sweat-inducing ones like The Scourge, The Rogue, and the City, but... I am a sucker for the flowery eloquence of a well-written love speech." The woman looks sideways, "I am getting overly familiar. Do you wish to return to your work, your Grace?"

Celeste raps gently to the door, having spoken to the guards on her way up. She's dressed for a social call, simple velvets and her hair pulled back into a slip of leather. Imagine her surprise at finding them both. "Light's blessings," she calls out in greeting.

This last revelation breaks the diplomatic facade that Rowena has done her been to muster and a blatant laugh bursts forth from the Duchess' lips. It is thankfully cut short, however, by the knocking. A final mutter of "..The Rogue and the City.." leaves her tongue as she rises and coughs once into her fist, eyes squinting with a moment of much-needed amusement. "Cousin! Please, enter."

Naoi half turns in her seat at the new arrival's voice, dipping her head in greeting. "Your Ladyship. How odd that you have came this way, as Night's Edge did come up in conversation. Nothing horrid, I assure you, it is... an opportunity and one both unfulfilled and not yet given of your blessing. Here, take my seat." The Freelander rises to her feet, a smooth interplay of muscles and limbs.

Celeste lifts an eyebrow, straightening slightly. One might think she were expecting a fight, really. "Ah, I had hoped to catch the duchess before she returned to Sheltered Flame," she replies and dips into a bow to the table. "Should I ask of the Rogue and Scourge though?"

"Most definitely not," Rowena assures, halting the curiosity with the shield of her palm. Slowly, she bends back into her seat. Taking a deeper breath of calm, she nods pointedly at Naoi. "The Ordinator and I were discussing the, em, difficulties presented in the investigation of the Thayndor case. I advised her to encourage the Grand Master and Warpriest to either work together as one, or seek the Regent as mediator so that the matter can be resolved in a way that is best fitting the nature of the man's infractions. I wish her luck on this, as well as her...reading."

Naoi lips thin, and the pale cheeks show a hint of life, despite the stolid mask. "That was me forgetting my place. I talk, and that happens. I apologize." The rest? She leaves to the Duchess.

"The difficulties? I hadn't realized that there were any," Celeste is unable to hide her surprise while stepping closer. "Reading?" A quick glance to Naoi at the mention. "Have you had a chance to speak with him, mistress?"

Exchanging a brief, benign - still possibly humored - glance with Naoi, Rowena sits quietly in her chair.

"There is much to be said in idleness, particularly with a life hanging... idle." Naoi responds, "I brought concerns, and my ideas, to the Duchess for consideration. As I did the Duke. Now, I suppose, it is your time to hear it. I wish to see Night's Edge, or perhaps the Chapels as a whole, not as just a place to learn but to guide the lost back to where they should be. A mage so close to having fallen, then brought back, would be both a tremendous personal success... and... bring closure to the tension between our respective branch, both law and religion. Not as Scourges, to judge, but Ordinators, to guide. It would serve both as a damning sign of our failure or... finally our glorious success, that shows us worthy of existance."

Celeste hides a smile, she can't help it. She lingers near the table while the others are sitting about the large table with items scattered between them. "I would agree with you, sister. I had once posed a school to the duchess so that people could understand that they did not have to be monsters, whether touched by Light or Shadow... or somewhere in between. What do you feel needs to happen with the Thayndor though?" There's a personal interest that reflects on the name, unable to mask her true concern.

Naoi is standing, Rowena having seated once more. Celeste is as well. The table is littered with parchments, maps, and notes. Scattered about the room, to supplement the fading light of a setting sun is numerous candles, lending a darker air to the conversation.

"The consequences to befall Thayndor will be fitting of the nature of his actions," Sternly states the recovered voice of the Matriarch. Carefully, she folds one hand over the other on the table's surface. "The problem lies in determining the intention behind his actions, due to the failure to yet carry out a thorough investigation because there's conflict in determining if this case belongs to the officials of the Law or the officials of the arcane. Clearly, it belongs to both, but neither end has yet been able to work successfully with the other without a party feeling slighted in someway." Clearing her throat, Rowena gestures for them to continue and settles back down.

"I thought I heard voices," someone says from the doorway. "And, truly, Light grant mercy to whomever the three of you choose to wage war upon." Varal steps into the dim candlelight, his declaration half serious.

Naoi turns, gray eyes half-lidding. Then she bows once more, "Count Varal, greetings. War is not the issue at hand, then, fortunatly. Other then eagerness on my part, tempered somewhat by wiser heads. There is the investigation, somewhat hampered by Voreyn's withdraw into space, and the idea that Fastheld is still a large land, despite the change from Empire to Kingdom. To seek endlessly for damning fault is difficult, even moreso in these times. For... one cannot simply suggest wrongdoing and have it be so. Your Grace, do you know a suitable candidate? Perhaps a Knight, supported in form by an Ordinator?"

"To speak for the man," asks Celeste. She half turns and smiles to Varal. "We were discussing Thayndor and what may happen to him with so many changes. Have you been able to speak with Knight Lomasa?"  Kestrel has connected.

"Candidate for what precisely?" Rowena blinks back into the present, having drifted off for a moment. "Ah. Well Thayndor will be expected to speak for himself. As one of noble upbringing he ought to be well-versed enough."

"Knight Lomasa?" Varal questions, joining into the conversation. "Frankly, Celeste, Thayndor can very well be charged with treason, as I have already pointed out to you. I feel as though the charge ought to be given, although with a merciful punishment, as a statement. But, that is solely my opinion."

"Think of the possibility of a man given the chance to redeemed though," Naoi responds. "Both as a testament to the Law's forgiveness, and the Church's ability to pull the fate of one so gone back from the edge of the abyss. And, your grace, I meant.. the investigation."

"But we also spoke of understanding, cousin," replies Celeste gently. "Surely the law can show leniency has it is a protection from 'fallen' mages. I don't believe that he has, though." She shrugs her shoulders, and plucks to her corset. "Just merely my observations from speaking with the man, though."

"Oh," Rowena mumbles softly, rubbing at her brow. "A knight, while representing the Law's half of the process, may be intimidating in appearance, so yes it would be wise to accompany the knight with a member of the Church. A joint effort, all around. From questioning of witnesses to trial. Both sides. Evenly." Nodding firmly, she glances between her kinsmen and folds her arms over her breast. "If Thayndor's actions were spurred from thoughtlessness moreso than malice, then I would agree with the Ordinator and Viscountess. Tis better to rehabilitate what can be rectified rather than damning a soul to fester in hatred in his afterlife - that only fuels the Shadow at its core."

"One can charge him with treason and leave open a path to redemption. While difficult, yes, it is not mutually exclusive," Varal notes. "Although, much of what he admitted is highly distressing to me. Losing himself to Shadow for several months. . .it does not bode well. Certainly, his actions were more thoughtless than malicious, Y'Grace, but there is little room for thoughtlessness when dealing with the Shadow."

"They are mutually exclusive." Naoi says dully, "For it breeds discontent, feelings of betrayal, and urges disloyal thoughts. When Fastheld turns it's back on it's children, the Children cannot be expected not to do the same. I apologize though, that is belief. Am I capable of being wrong? Of course I am. He is sitting in a cell, without word or mind. Should judgement say 'treason' then let it say treason. Should it say 'hopeful', then perhaps optimisim is a sweet sugar not always shielding the poison of disappointment. I... should go. I will follow your advice, Duchess, and know that I appreciate it. Perhaps my own words have lightened your spirits, even if they are not as wise. If you'll excuse me, your lordship, your ladyship, your grace." She offers an extended bow, then moves to depart.

Celeste waves farewell to Naoi before looking back to Varal. "A desire he tried to suppress by ever calling on the shadow. It found a way, cousin. So do you punish the man or the Shadow within him?"

"Pass on my request, Ordinator," Rowena nods to Naoi, standing to honor her leave and momentarily ignoring the argument between her cousins. "I'd like to see the man with my own eyes in his cell."

Varal snorts at Naoi. "Your lack of creativity is disconcerting, Ordinator. But, his behavior is the betrayal, and justice needs to be served." Crossing his arms, he smiles sadly at Celeste. "You make an abstraction, cousin, as though I ought to back away. Do you punish the alcoholic for the booze in his system, or for the actions he takes while it courses through him? A Shadow possessed monster is infinitely more terrified and more capable of evil. So long as the man avoids the Shadow within, you cannot be punished for it. But, should he Touch it, knowingly, he must - let me stress this - /MUST/ be punished." There's a pause, and he nods to Rowena. "Of course, Y'Grace."

"Yet, you can give them help rather than damnation, cousin. Would you rather have a match set a man on fire because he didn't realize that he had the capabilities. That one day, it just happened," replies Celeste calmly. "That is why educating rather than going 'don't do this' will be more plausible."

"The alcoholic chose to put the ale in his belly. The mage did not choose to harbor the Shadow's taint. It is a power stronger than those who 'wield' it. Do I retract all blame from the man? Certainly NOT," Rowena states, remaining standing after Naoi has left. "But to snuff out the Light that remains through death is only reasonable if there was no Light left to begin with. Those who use their gifts to knowingly harm another will be shown no more mercy than they bestowed upon their victims. But those who are cursed with a lack of understanding, a lack of ability to work not for the Shadow, but /with/ it need to learn. He is ultimately responsible for his actions. Let it be then the intention behind those actions, the nature of them, that determines the punishment. If he is not to die, then he should be reshaped. It is more productive an outcome than locking him away in a cell for the duration of his life or casting him beyond the Aegis where he will only encounter the Shadow - in worse forms - and succumb to it yet again."

Varal shrugs. "I never said to kill him. I merely stated what he ought to be charged with by law. I never said to deny him a chance at redemption. But, as far as I'm concerned, he's going down the wrong path to start. Give him another chance, if you feel it necessary, but with a grain of salt. I'm more than happy to see him die, as it is the safest course."

"But with that logic, cousin, we might as well round up all the mages and slaughter them for their own good. It isn't their fault they're born this way. Just as it isn't ours that we are born with the Light," replies Celeste with a reference to the former Mikins. "It is all a matter of happenstance, but I've met many mages who follow the Light but still control the shadow that is a part of them."

"Enough!" Throwing up her hands, Rowena shakes her head and 'whumps' back down into her chair. "We could bicker in this room for eternity, my friends, but as reality dictates, this is not our decision to make. The outcome lies in the hands of two persons - the Grand Master and the Warpriest. We should instead be offering prayer that the two learn to coexist and lead as they should in this matter, rather than filling my ears with their doubts and complaint of the other. Honestly, I do not remember taking oath to be the mother and mentor of Fastheld's governing bodies. I am more than busy with life without holding the hands of wary authority. I am flattered that they find me to be of sound advice, I suppose, but there comes a time when I've said all that I can and now would be that time." Huffing softly, she blows a wayward curl off her lips. "Perhaps a firm slap to the cheek is what I'll offer next. I'm sure it will ring far longer between their ears than my words ever could."

Varal's eyes widen, and his jaws clench. Not a peep escapes his lips.

Celeste sighs, her cheeks darkening for a second. "It is because you can be rather wise at times, your grace," she replies after a few moments. "But yes, those and the Light."

Gruffly, Rowena pulls a chunk off the remaining loaf of bread and chews it forcefully, eyeing them both. After she swallows it dryly down, she abruptly hops again to her feet. "Wisdom is available to all who take the time to consider it," She states quietly then waves at the doors. "Come, let's have a drink. It's time to retire away from sensibility for the evening."

Varal nods to Rowena, but remains rather quiet.

Celeste pivots and turns to follow as well. She takes a deep breath, and laces her hands together.

Leaving the papers and desk items where they lay, Rowena walks quietly out of the War Room and into the corridor beyond.