The Raven's Response

The Regent of Fastheld is sitting on the steps of the dais, one arm draped over a knee as he contemplates the shadows dancing among the columns in the torchlight of the great hall. Guards patrol the throne room, weapons at the ready, as the herald inclines his head to the newcomers. A pitch-hued raven crouches on the back of the throne itself, talons clutching at the gold trim as it swivels its head and peers at Norran and Tiris.

Norran enters the throne room beside Tiris, walking steadily in all his usual regalia as he settles his gaze on the Regent. His expression remains serious, the emerald-eyed young Duke stepping forward to where the Regent sits and falling into a deep bow an appropriate distance away, briefly taking a knee and bowing his head before speaking, "Light's Greetings, Your Highness. Duke Tiris Kahar and I, Duke Norran Lomasa, come here to seek an audience with you on behalf of the Council of Six."

Duke Tiris Kahar, the Wildcat Duke, strides in at Norran's side. Like the Lomasa, he is clad in the heavy plate and chain finery of war. Unlike the Lomasa, he does not speak right away. Tiris inclines his head to the Herald as he passes, then turns to look at Norran. A frown rests on Duke Kahar's lips, but whether they are Norran's doing or not, it's hard to tell.

"Without so much as the simple courtesy of advance notice?" The Regent's unfocused gaze continues to drift from shadow to shadow for a few moments, and then he turns his cold eyes to fix on Norran with the attention of a hawk to a field mouse. "Impudence," he snarls. "No doubt you came straight here, still filthy with road grime from your travels, rather than cleaning yourself up for an appearance in the royal court." A slender hand lifts from his knee and waves dismissively. "Go. Unless this is a *crisis*, it can wait. Seek lodgings in one of the towers. You will be sent for when I deem it proper."

Norran's brow quirks in faint surprise, but he maintains his composure as he rises from his knee to reply to the Regent, his tone lowered, "My deepest apologies for the lack of our announcement, Your Highness, but it has been deemed urgent that the matter of the internment be resolved as quickly as possible by the Council, due to the rising activity of gargoyles from the north that some suspect is to reach an apex within days." He pauses then, awaiting a response, but glancing side-long to Tiris hopefully.

The Regent sighs, getting to his feet. He clasps his hands behind his back, then glances over his shoulder at the raven perched on the throne before returning his attention to Norran. "Your assertion is remarkably emaciated when it comes to specifics. *Some* suspect? I should turn the Crown's full attention to something that may or may not happen? Really? This is the value you place on my time? Who deemed it urgent? How did it become so urgent? What does the matter of internment have to do with *any* of this?"

"You. Didn't. Send. Notice..." Tiris's speaks through a clenched jaw, icy blue eyes glaring balefully at the Lomasa. This newer, deeper frown is most definitely Norran's doing. Duke Kahar's heavy iron breastplate rises and falls in deep, over-controlled breaths. His gauntlets are clenched into heavy, hate-filled hammers. With some difficulty, he tears his eyes from Norran and looks back to the Regent. "Apologies, your Highness," Tiris says, relaxing enough to give Zolor a deep bow. He holds the bow for a few seconds, straightens quickly, takes two steps backwards. Norran, at this point, is clearly on his own.

Well, things certainly seem to have gotten much worse. For better or worse, Norran decides to continue and answer the Regent's questions, regaining his voice's previous composure and replying, "My apologies once more, Your Highness, it was not my intent to be vague. A few nobility and others have journeyed north to Crown's Refuge in the recent days for preparation of some sort of upcoming battle. Also, the rise in gargoyle attacks that led to the injury of Duke Seamel has led the council to determine that the internment of Shadow-Touched within Northreach is a greater threat to those placed there than it is a boon." He pauses, then, bowing his head again before speaking further, "If you still do not deem the matter urgent, Your Majesty, I will relent in discussing the matter further and do as you suggested with my humblest apologies. The fault is mine."

The Regent's brow knits and his jaw sets. If anything, his gaze grows colder. "Duke Seamel was injured? He is hurt, and trouble has been brewing in Crown's Refuge for *days*, the Council thinks internment is a bad idea, and I'm only hearing about this *tonight* because...why, exactly? Are your hands broken, Norran? Have you been stricken with a palsy that leaves you unable to put quill to parchment? If it was so urgent as you claim, one would expect you to treat it with greater urgency. Since you didn't see fit to *inform* me of the situation until now, then I will treat it with the same urgency. Crown's Refuge is on its own. The rules for the denizens of Northreach are unchanged - they will suffer the rule of law if they violate the terms of their residency. You may take my best wishes to Duke Seamel for a speedy recovery, of course."

"I don't know why the /young/ Duke Lomasa didn't put this on paper first..." Tiris interjects, speaking with a rich Kahar purr. He folds his arms across his chest somewhat noisily and adds, "Your Highness, we came here to inform you that the Council voted unanimously last night in opposition of the Northreach Mandate. That is all."

"I assure you, Your Highness, the meeting was arranged as swiftly as possible. Only a few days were passed to ensure that every member of the Council would be present so that the matter could be immediately dealt with. It was agreed that I was to ride here the next day to see that the matter was dealt with immediately. Couriers could have indeed travelled faster than I, and I apologize for my lack of foresight in ensuring you knew of our arrival. Others of the Duchy had spoken with you previously on the matter, so I did not think I could make any headway in the situation merely by myself. As you can see, I am not very adept at all in such matters. I come merely as a messenger of the Council's will, a poor one, but Your Highness, I beg you not to fault the council's decision on my foolhardiness," Norran pauses as Tiris speaks, returning a grateful nod to the older Duke and returning his attention to Zolor. "The council also voted to give the Marked a choice to move instead to Light's Reach if they still feared for their safety, as the township's unique properties offer it as a valuable stronghold against either wildling or gargoyle. Duchess Mikin offered, and all agreed."

"The Council voted last night?" Zolor nods slowly, considering the Kahar's words, lacing his fingers together. "Duke Seamel has lost control of Northreach, then. The Crown will need to dispatch troops to maintain order. The Council may offer whatever choice it likes to the residents of Northreach. However, I am beholden to the rest of Fastheld. Any Marked mages discovered outside of Northreach in violation of the terms of internment will be imprisoned. Killed, if they resist. Hunted, if they flee. The Crown will not countenance such disrespect."

Tiris listens carefully to Zolor. He nods slowly as the Regent finishes. "Then we all risk civil war, Your Highness, for the sake of a bargain that has already been made, and cannot be unmade." Duke Kahar speaks dispassionately, his gaze sliding sideways to appraise the Lomasa's reaction. "I will return to the Council with word of your decision, Your Highness."

Norran exhales, casting his eyes downward and bowing to Zolor once more. "Very well then, Your Highness. I thank you for your time, and will bother you no further on the matter. Unless there is anything else, I believe it would be time for me to take my leave. Light guide and protect, Your Highness," speaks the Duke in farewell, bowing deeply once more but still waiting for a final word from Zolor.

"If there is war, it will not be civil," the Regent observes, a grim smirk on his lips. "Please convey my deepest appreciation for the Council's efforts and remind them that the realm's penalties for treason are quite severe. You may go."

"Light keep you, Your Highness. Light save the Crown and the Empire." Tiris Kahar bows once again and takes another two steps backwards. His eyes sweep past Norran and his gaze hardens. After a heartbeat, he turns around and strides back towards the door.

Norran returns Tiris's look with a grim smirk, jingling and shifting his way out of the throne room and walking after him.

Return to Season 7 (2008)