Liriel paced in her quarters, contemplating her next move forward.

The meeting with the King had gone well, despite how forcefully she had had to insist upon it. She had informed him of the situation without incident, and presented herself as willing and able to help. True, the king himself had disappointed her; weak and soft in a way that set her fingers itching. Afraid of her! He would never have survived outside the comforts of the palace. Indeed, he seemed poorly suited for any position of responsibility or authority, but it was possible that this too was a symptom of the malady.

Too many unknowns to deal with; Liriel needed assistance. She hoped that King Miythis would take her words to heart and offer that to her. But her lessons in diplomacy had not been for naught; to appear too demanding would harm her cause more than help it.

A gentle chime brought her out of her ruminations. Someone in the waiting room requested her attention. Hope fluttered in her chest, though she did her best to smother it. She had not expected Miythis to send aid so quickly, and she had to be cautious in this nest of vipers. Liriel descended the stairs at a measured pace, lest her hurried feet betray the scale of her desperation. Everything, always, a facade and performance for position and status. How she hated it.

In the waiting room stood an aeldar she recognized dimly, clad in soft fabrics and restrained jewelry. His hair was pulled away from his brow and allowed to fall over his shoulders in a wild fringe, as was the style of the court. His robes were pinned in place by a brooch bearing the emblem of the Polassi tribe. His hand was nearly to the bell-pull to chime them once again. As he saw her descending the stairs, he translated the motion smoothly into a bow, hands held out and palms towards her. "Seer Liriel, a pleasure to meet you. May the winds of the Immaterium ever sway to your will."

"May they sway so for all the aeldar," Liriel completed the ritual greeting, trying to place why the man looked familiar to her. As his head rose, bearing a warm smile, the image came to her; he was the simpering flunky that had been attending the King. "To what do I owe this visit, Belasys?"

If Belasys noticed the subtle distance conveyed by her tone, he gave no sign, merely smiling in that vacuous way that she imagined common to all the King's sycophants. "I am honoured to have the Seer remember me. My purpose is simple, if it be amenable to you. I would like to learn more about your warnings to the King. Dire as they are, it would behoove me to assist you as I could."

Better than she expected, then. While he might be useless as a warrior, perhaps he could be useful for the information he surely knew about the structure of the ruling council.

As graciously as she could, she beckoned the courtier upwards into the formal meeting room. While he seated himself on the cushions therein, she busied herself at the arweh preparation stand. The customs and rituals for receiving a guest were as intricate as they were uninteresting to Liriel; everything from the style of beverage, to the seating arrangement, to even the meter of the rote greetings used all indicated layers of meaning that Liriel had been forced to study and memorize in her compressed education. It was all so much nonsense, as far as her natural tendencies were concerned, but necessary to further her goals.

Liriel mixed two measures of the arweh leaf with a scant spoonful of sap; strong and bitter, with very little of the narcotic effects to indicate a friendly or warm meeting. As Belasys watched, she poured the opaque golden liquid into its serving vessel atop the sidhin. As it began to heat and agitate the drink, she set the tray down in front of him; directly across, as opposed as it was possible to be without the use of other people in the meeting's drama. She poured the arweh with both hands, in the Third Position, her eyes resting on him the while. To do otherwise would indicate either subservience or the need for guile.

Belasys, for his part, sat attentively and took his cup from the tray, meeting her eyes all the while. Full eye contact; he wished to speak freely, without the formality of station between them. So be it.

"With the the focus of Kurnous. With the foresight of Morai-Heg. With the courage of Khaine," she intoned solemnly, touching her cup to her lips at each god's name, but not drinking.

"May our paths converge," Belasys completed, matching her movements.

They drank deeply of the scalding hot drink. Liriel suppressed a shudder at the taste. Perhaps the leaves had gone bad, or she'd been too generous with their portions.

It was a moment before Belasys spoke, his expression making his distaste with the bitter drink clear. Many added sweet honeys to disguise the taste of the drink, but Liriel had none to hand and would not offer it if she had. "A plea for directness, wisdom, and the strength to face the truth. I took you for a Seer, not a priest."

"It falls upon the Seers to hold to our oldest traditions. There are no priests left," Liriel said flatly, sipping the cup again with eyes shadowed. The ritual invocation was specific to the nature of the discussion; each chosen epithet of each chosen god a signal for what was to be discussed.

"No, and yet you still invoke the gods' names. Do you not find that odd?"

Liriel dismissed the matter with a wave of her hand. "You are not here for theological debate. Speak your mind."

Belasys hesitated, his eyes sizing her up. Liriel stared back at him, refusing to give him any more to work with. If he came with actual need, or to offer real help, he could do so without any more input from her. At last, he shrugged, and said, "I was not close enough to hear your words to the King, but I saw the effect they had on him. I would like to know the cause."

She sipped the arweh slowly, unsure. He was a courtier - his ilk had driven her predecessor from this place. Yet she could not act alone to shift the course of their society. Without his aid, and that of others like him, she would be no more than Lileath's shimmering songbird, caged and useless. She could not extend him any trust; that was beyond her. But she could deal in information, especially if King Miythis was so blinded as to keep her warnings to himself. "A warning. A vision of our future here. A revelation of the poison in our hearts."

The last caught his attention. "You suspect… what? Treachery?"

Liriel's mouth spread thinly - not quite a smile, not quite a frown. "Treachery is a given, Belasys. My focus is on something more fundamental."

Belasys rested the rim of his cup against his lower lip, not quite ready to take another draught of the drink. "Still, if there is evidence of a traitor among us, surely we must deal with it immediately. While I was not among the court during Seer Anathan's condemnation of the Nasra'il, I heard the evidence he presented damned them to extermination. Do you know who these traitors are? Are you planning to inform the King and the Council?"

Liriel set down her cup with an audible clink. "I feel no need to aim at an inconsequential target when the greater prey is within my sights. Traitors will be dealt with in time. If those that can do not act against our more pressing issues, there will be no point in doing so. Treachery is a symptom of the sickness."

"Sickness? Then this more pressing issue is some kind of plague? The doctors do not seem so concerned," Belasys replied, words and expression guarded.

"It is not a type of plague that they would be familiar with. The malady I chase affects our spirits, destroying the bonds between us," Liriel caught herself short, suddenly aware of how much she had said. More than she had meant to. More than she should have. Anger was once again clouding her mind, the subtle digs and insinuations of the weaselly courtier undermining her defenses.

"The previous Seer spoke similarly, before his sabbatical," Belasys said, his tone carefully neutral.

Even so, Liriel bristled at the meaning behind his words. "You think me as mad as Anathan was when he left, raging at every slight and fearing assassins in every shadow."

Belasys shook his head at her accusation, his posture one of perfect concession. "Forgive me, Seer, I meant no offense. Of course Seer Anathan's words held great weight with the Council, as they did the rest of the court, but please understand our position as well. We cannot commit ourselves to every prophecy and vision. Even the greatest of Seers errs, sees things perhaps that they desire rather than what is predestined."

A thrill of alarm ran through her. "You think I foment rebellion? That my warnings are given to divide us?"

Belasys raised his thin eyebrows. "Of course not, Seer. Why would I?"

The dissembling was wearing thin on her nerves. She knew, but could not stop herself from answering. "The King is not the problem I seek to address. The internecine warfare of the tribes is not the problem." He tried to interject, but she spoke over him. "The collapse of the higher functions of our society is not the problem. They are all, each, symptoms of the problem. A malady in our minds, in our souls, that dulls the fire of the aeldari. We are more than this -" she swept her outstretched hand across the window, indicating the tired noises of the market below the palace, "more rational than the degenerates pirating through the Webway, more courageous than the merchants hiding in the shadows across the stars, more vivid than these dull, shrunken husks that plow fields and trade trinkets, backstab and plot, wither and die for no reason than that they just don't care any more!" Liriel was standing now, face flushed red, her voice raised.

Belasys shrank away from her, fear evident in his face. Liriel schooled herself to calm and forced herself back to the cushion. She noticed, at last, that she had spilled the arweh on her hand in her speech; it burned painfully, but she ignored it and continued in a subdued tone. "I do not know what is causing this blight, but I must root it out and end it."

"Of course, Seer. I would never dare to contradict you." the courtier said, forcing a semblance of politeness in his tone. He swallowed the last of his arweh, grimacing at the heat and bitter taste. "Should you have the slightest need of me, please do not hesitate to call. It would be my honour to aid you in this endeavour. May Isha guide you and Kurnous guard you."

"May Asuryan light your path, and Lileath inspire you."

He scurried out of the room without a backwards glance. Liriel sat watching where he had left for a long time, the bitterness on her tongue not solely due to the arweh.

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