"But my Lord, we are not certain that the intercept referred to the
Festival of Mirbor. True, we have reason to believe it does, but I am
unwilling—"
"Silence, boy." The young man who had been speaking blushed crimson, confirming the condescending statement in a way cold indifference would not have. "Your willingness or unwillingness to gather evidence and take decisive action means nothing in this Hall or in this kingdom. Your council will fall on more ready ears when your own don't flush at the slightest hint of embarrassment. Sword Prince Camren, take leave of us," the King of Delorien commanded irritably. The older Sword Princes, who knew his moods as well as they knew their own, discerned that Adri truly liked young Camren, and was frustrated whenever the boy did not fully live up to his potential; so he treated the newest Prince of the Sword like an errant child because he was a favorite, not because of any true disapproval.
They doubted, though, as the fair-haired warrior strode angrily from the Lion Court, that the boy understood as much.
But there were far more significant things to consider just then that Adri's peculiar father/son dynamic.
"Sire, Camren may have spoken foolishly, but he did not speak ignorantly," Prince Grigory remarked. "In all the old customs Mirbor is referred to as the Gathered Storm of Autumn, but that name has not been used in hundreds of years. Would the commanders in Kerua know or remember that? Would they use that in code? We can guess. We can hope. But in the end, we all know that we cannot find any degree of certainty. The intercept refers to the attack as coming 'in the midst of the gathering storms,' but that could refer to the yearly thunderstorms that roll down from the Wrath of God just before winter begins in earnest. We can be most alert throughout the Festival, but I am wary of thrusting out our necks so far that we cannot draw them back if we were mistaken, my Lord King," Grigory finished, bowing low. Adri considered him for a moment, frowning, before lifting his hand in acknowledgement and turning away.
"What say you, Argonas?" the king questioned neutrally.
"I believe you know," the man replied darkly, pointedly leaving out any proper form of address or any subtle obeisance. The other Sword Princes murmured angrily among themselves, for all the world as if this had been the first time the foreign-born soldier had failed to show respect to the king they loved.
"You believe I should act on this intercept?"
"I believe that, yes," Argonas replied as he absently leaned against a column. His stance, in the heart of Delorien, in the Lion Court itself, was entirely too casual.
"And do you have any belief concerning what action should be taken?" Grigory demanded, pulling his muscular frame into such a taut stance that he seemed to be compensating for the other man's slouch.
"I believe we should attack Kerua on the first night of Mirbor," Argonas remarked.
Chaos erupted.
"Are you mad?" Prince Ludar cried over the shouts of his fellow soldiers. "If we are right about what the intercept is saying, the entire army of Kerua will be assembling and arming themselves that night, in preparation for attacking the next night. How could you possibly suggest bringing them into open battle when they are at their most ready?" Argonas replied, quietly, but no one in the hall could hear him for their own din of indignation. Slowly, they realized they would not receive their answer until they were silent, and one by one their voices dissolved into murderous glares. When it was quiet enough in the Lion Court that they could again hear the wind howling outside, Argonas brushed back his light brown hair and looked up to Adri, who had been watching him intently the entire time.
"Because, Ludar, that is the last possible time any of them would suspect, simply because it is so ridiculous. True, they will all be assembled, but not yet for battle, thus making it far simpler to exterminate all of them in one fell swoop. With one swipe of Her paw Delorien could eliminate those mud-bound fools, and is that not the point?" Argonas finished, his voice addressing his comrades but his eyes seeing only the King.
"Grigory... are the men fully ready for war?" Adri questioned placidly.
"My Lord King! Surely you cannot mean..."
"I am only asking you if it could be done, I am not yet ordering it," the King reproved. None in the hall failed to notice that he had said 'yet.'
*
Camren strode from the Lion Court, stubborn tears of frustration brightening his eyes. He was desperately afraid someone might see the glimmer for what it was, but that was only because he could not see the wrathful mask his features had assumed; no one who saw him like that would ever think he was on the verge of sobbing like a little boy.
Like a little boy, he thought miserably as he swung the great ebony doors inward. I may be a Delorienin Prince of the Sword, but that will only command respect on foreign soil. At seventeen, he was by far the youngest man to ever have even been given the opportunity to be tested, let alone to achieve that high status.
For all my strength and intelligence I may as well be back at the ranch shoveling horse shit, he thought as he started down the steps. What he saw at the bottom, however, made him forget his own angst.
That bright little serving girl he adored was lying motionless at the foot of the stairs, blood and the contents of one of the wineskins staining the marble red. Without further thought Camren raced to her side, reaching her just as another man, about his age, did.
"She needs a doctor," Camren gasped, somewhat obviously. "She has no pulse, and he heartbeat is faint."
"She did receive several bad cracks on the head," the other man remarked coolly. The Sword Prince shot him a withering look.
"Go find a doctor, fool," he commanded.
"I take orders only from His Highness and his Princes."
"I am Sword Prince Camren!" By the last word, he was screaming. Fear, or something very like it, flickered briefly in the man's bright blue eyes before he set off without a word.
"Please, little girl, don't die," Camren whispered as he sank back to his knees. Tenderly, and without even knowing why he was doing it, he found himself gently brushing her bushy hair back from her face. She was just a nameless servant, bony and a little plain, too young to be sexually attractive... but he couldn't bear to see her broken like this.
"I believe the girl needs Healing," a man said suddenly, startling Camren, who had not heard footsteps. He looked up quickly... and felt his face go white. Standing there before him, in the heart of an Earthborn kingdom, stood a black-robed magi with dangerous black eyes.
A/N
Sorry this is starting so slowly; it gets a lot better. The trouble is that I'm trying to set up an entire world, with its own politics, subtleties, and settings. I am drawing off of JK Rowlings characters (some of them), but the rest is original.
You know, at this point, ANY reviews would be nice. I'd be happy to go and review some of your stories- I'm new here anyway, and it would give me a good reading list.
Thank you, and do let me know what you think.
"Silence, boy." The young man who had been speaking blushed crimson, confirming the condescending statement in a way cold indifference would not have. "Your willingness or unwillingness to gather evidence and take decisive action means nothing in this Hall or in this kingdom. Your council will fall on more ready ears when your own don't flush at the slightest hint of embarrassment. Sword Prince Camren, take leave of us," the King of Delorien commanded irritably. The older Sword Princes, who knew his moods as well as they knew their own, discerned that Adri truly liked young Camren, and was frustrated whenever the boy did not fully live up to his potential; so he treated the newest Prince of the Sword like an errant child because he was a favorite, not because of any true disapproval.
They doubted, though, as the fair-haired warrior strode angrily from the Lion Court, that the boy understood as much.
But there were far more significant things to consider just then that Adri's peculiar father/son dynamic.
"Sire, Camren may have spoken foolishly, but he did not speak ignorantly," Prince Grigory remarked. "In all the old customs Mirbor is referred to as the Gathered Storm of Autumn, but that name has not been used in hundreds of years. Would the commanders in Kerua know or remember that? Would they use that in code? We can guess. We can hope. But in the end, we all know that we cannot find any degree of certainty. The intercept refers to the attack as coming 'in the midst of the gathering storms,' but that could refer to the yearly thunderstorms that roll down from the Wrath of God just before winter begins in earnest. We can be most alert throughout the Festival, but I am wary of thrusting out our necks so far that we cannot draw them back if we were mistaken, my Lord King," Grigory finished, bowing low. Adri considered him for a moment, frowning, before lifting his hand in acknowledgement and turning away.
"What say you, Argonas?" the king questioned neutrally.
"I believe you know," the man replied darkly, pointedly leaving out any proper form of address or any subtle obeisance. The other Sword Princes murmured angrily among themselves, for all the world as if this had been the first time the foreign-born soldier had failed to show respect to the king they loved.
"You believe I should act on this intercept?"
"I believe that, yes," Argonas replied as he absently leaned against a column. His stance, in the heart of Delorien, in the Lion Court itself, was entirely too casual.
"And do you have any belief concerning what action should be taken?" Grigory demanded, pulling his muscular frame into such a taut stance that he seemed to be compensating for the other man's slouch.
"I believe we should attack Kerua on the first night of Mirbor," Argonas remarked.
Chaos erupted.
"Are you mad?" Prince Ludar cried over the shouts of his fellow soldiers. "If we are right about what the intercept is saying, the entire army of Kerua will be assembling and arming themselves that night, in preparation for attacking the next night. How could you possibly suggest bringing them into open battle when they are at their most ready?" Argonas replied, quietly, but no one in the hall could hear him for their own din of indignation. Slowly, they realized they would not receive their answer until they were silent, and one by one their voices dissolved into murderous glares. When it was quiet enough in the Lion Court that they could again hear the wind howling outside, Argonas brushed back his light brown hair and looked up to Adri, who had been watching him intently the entire time.
"Because, Ludar, that is the last possible time any of them would suspect, simply because it is so ridiculous. True, they will all be assembled, but not yet for battle, thus making it far simpler to exterminate all of them in one fell swoop. With one swipe of Her paw Delorien could eliminate those mud-bound fools, and is that not the point?" Argonas finished, his voice addressing his comrades but his eyes seeing only the King.
"Grigory... are the men fully ready for war?" Adri questioned placidly.
"My Lord King! Surely you cannot mean..."
"I am only asking you if it could be done, I am not yet ordering it," the King reproved. None in the hall failed to notice that he had said 'yet.'
*
Camren strode from the Lion Court, stubborn tears of frustration brightening his eyes. He was desperately afraid someone might see the glimmer for what it was, but that was only because he could not see the wrathful mask his features had assumed; no one who saw him like that would ever think he was on the verge of sobbing like a little boy.
Like a little boy, he thought miserably as he swung the great ebony doors inward. I may be a Delorienin Prince of the Sword, but that will only command respect on foreign soil. At seventeen, he was by far the youngest man to ever have even been given the opportunity to be tested, let alone to achieve that high status.
For all my strength and intelligence I may as well be back at the ranch shoveling horse shit, he thought as he started down the steps. What he saw at the bottom, however, made him forget his own angst.
That bright little serving girl he adored was lying motionless at the foot of the stairs, blood and the contents of one of the wineskins staining the marble red. Without further thought Camren raced to her side, reaching her just as another man, about his age, did.
"She needs a doctor," Camren gasped, somewhat obviously. "She has no pulse, and he heartbeat is faint."
"She did receive several bad cracks on the head," the other man remarked coolly. The Sword Prince shot him a withering look.
"Go find a doctor, fool," he commanded.
"I take orders only from His Highness and his Princes."
"I am Sword Prince Camren!" By the last word, he was screaming. Fear, or something very like it, flickered briefly in the man's bright blue eyes before he set off without a word.
"Please, little girl, don't die," Camren whispered as he sank back to his knees. Tenderly, and without even knowing why he was doing it, he found himself gently brushing her bushy hair back from her face. She was just a nameless servant, bony and a little plain, too young to be sexually attractive... but he couldn't bear to see her broken like this.
"I believe the girl needs Healing," a man said suddenly, startling Camren, who had not heard footsteps. He looked up quickly... and felt his face go white. Standing there before him, in the heart of an Earthborn kingdom, stood a black-robed magi with dangerous black eyes.
A/N
Sorry this is starting so slowly; it gets a lot better. The trouble is that I'm trying to set up an entire world, with its own politics, subtleties, and settings. I am drawing off of JK Rowlings characters (some of them), but the rest is original.
You know, at this point, ANY reviews would be nice. I'd be happy to go and review some of your stories- I'm new here anyway, and it would give me a good reading list.
Thank you, and do let me know what you think.