Disclaimer: Everything besides Verail belongs to Tamora Pierce.
This is my first fic, it's also terribly short, and a oneshot. Review and I might just think about writing something else...
And now, ON WITH THE STORY!
CRASH! SLAM! Viymese Ishabal Ladyhammer, the famed great-mage of the Empire of Namorn barely ducked before Empress Berenene of Namorn threw even more age-old relics, not caring what she threw, as long as something was thrown.
A disheveled, dusty Isha tried again, "Your Imperial Majesty…" her voice trailed off as another vase was thrown.
"YOU FAILED ME!" Berenene's booming voice filled the hall. "The most powerful four YOUNG, BARELY TRAINED mages EVER to step foot within my kingdom, and YOU FAILED ME! You, a great mage, one who has defeated countless others, couldn't handle FOUR YOUNG MAGES, of which only three were there in body!"
"Your Imperial Majesty, they worked in unison, using their circle…" Isha tried to explain for the umpteenth time again.
At that moment, Verail Lateinos, one of the Empress's best spies, came in. A quick bow came and went, before the explanation, the explanation that had to be important enough to interrupt one of her famous rages, the rages that came only once in a decade, if so often. "Your Imperial Majesty, I bring urgent news. News to urgent to be put onto paper. News containing the quartet of four mages, more specifically your cousin, the former Clehame Sandrilene fa Toren" Verail said calmly, but Berenene, who had known and trained him, knew he was quivering with sheer excitement and wonder over this news.
"Ladyhammer, GO!" The enraged yet deeply curious woman of power commanded of her great mage.
Ishabal knew she would be called back, and went, grateful to be spared of the Empress's fury, if only for a moment.
As soon as the cause of the Empress's rage left, the Empress stared at the spy, "What is it? And it better be good, because…" She didn't have to go further.
Verail bowed deeply again, and began, "Your Imperial Majesty, I have gotten word that the former landholder to the Ladreg lands, Sandrilene fa Toren, has passed the lands over to her cousin and former saghad, the now Cleham Ambros fer Landreg."
Berenene squawked in her most un-musical voice she had ever used and didn't know she even possessed, "SHE DID WHAT?" The outraged ruler of Namorn quickly remembered Verail, flapped a hand in dismissal, and proceeded to her rooms.
Once in her rooms, Berenene controlled the urge to throw anymore of her things, and contemplated over all that she had learned of on this day. She realized that everything, the cause of all her distress stemmed from one person and her friends, her cousin, Sandrilene, and her three friends, Daja, Tris, and Briar, for they had ruined her, drove her into the ground. Then, she realized something even more shocking. It was all her fault, for if she had never invited Sandrilene here in the first place, this wouldn't have happened. It was all her fault. Those five little words haunted her for the rest of her life.