Ezran was starting his day a few moments after midnight. With a mental image he would not soon forget. He was resolved to somehow send them a letter, expressing his annoyance. They really needed to work harder to stop Zym from peeking when they ate each other's face like that. Ezran had watched on as their Ocean elf friend had galloped away, felt some of Zym's sadness at the split.
It was such that he came to find Corvus with a hand raised to knock at his door.
"Majesty - You're up?"
"Like the sky, Corvus, yeesh", he grinned weakly, "What can I do for you?"
"Ahling and Florian send their regards and their bannermen, Falconer Ebro and Minister Arcanus Solveig. They are ready for you."
"Oh, great, I really didn't think they'd be here until after Jorge marches through later today. What about Duren?"
"The Lady of the Bloom has not given a reply just yet. Safe to say, I expect her to kick the door and then Jorge's behind once nine or ten rolls around."
"Duren lost a few of their own people to the dragons, Corvus. Who knows how she'll feel about that. She might be on Jorge's side now."
Corvus let him pass. The young king was becoming more and more dire and pessimistic.
Ezran opened the door to the meeting room where Neolandia's Ebro and Del Bar's Solveig were waiting for him. They stood.
"Lord", Solveig greeted, bowing. He was a tall man, muscular and rough hewn. His left eye was blind, destroyed by the same blade that had split its eyebrow. His voice was a growl and the dark green plate suit he wore was probably as heavy as himself. What little hair remained on him was stark white, all its original color consumed by dark magic.
"Minister", Ezran replied, "Falconer."
The delegate from Neolandia was a stark contrast to Solveig; Black-haired, lithe, young and fresh-faced, he wore a clean, light scout's armour in gold and black. A falcon perched atop his shoulder, its eyes covered.
Ezran sat and his guests followed suit.
"Quite the pickle", the Falconer said, "How very characteristic for our new friend in arms. We expect him to attack today, yes?"
"He said so", Ezran said, "I don't want to waste your time, gentlemen, what are your regents' answers?"
Solveig sat back, crossing his arms. "We do not intend to stand against one of our own, Ezran. Jorge may be a child, more so than yourself, but his ears match mine and we have a much better chance trusting him than the bruisers", he waved in the Xadian direction, "So much bad blood, Majesty. King Florian went along with your plan hoping to avoid its spilling. Well, you now know better than anyone here how well that's worked."
"Neolandia?", Ezran said.
"King Ahling is prepared to stand against De Peverell should the need arise. Unlike Del Bar, when someone attacks an ally of ours, we don't stand with the attacker."
"No need for your political digs, Falconer", Solveig laughed gruffly, "The Accord of Turbin is quite clear on such matters. Article seventy-four, paragraph sixty-nine-dash-eight; `Warlike behaviour among the parttakers will be met with joint resistance against the declarant`", he waved a hand, "et cetera, et cetera. Point is, we would not support Evenere in attacking Katolis."
"Jorge has threatened exactly that!", Ebro said, angrily, "How can you consider him an ally of your crown? You know he does not respect it."
"Sirs", Ezran interrupted them, "Let's not argue right now. I asked for you personally because I think this needs a compromise, not just a bunch of declarations. Duren will send someone and we'll do exactly that. I need our alliance. Really, we all do. We can all agree with that?"
His guests looked at each other, nodding curtly.
"Jorge is part of us and we need to listen to him. We should be partners, on the same level. I really hate how he feels, but I kinda get it. I also lost my parents to Xadia, in one way or another."
He sternly looked at Solveig, "Some days, I would love to drag the dragon queen out of her lair and lock her up somewhere cold. If we win the war, we could do that. But would it be worth it? That's my problem here. I don't see the benefit. Our fields need tending. Our children need parents. Our cities are falling apart badly enough without siege engines and dragons setting them on fire. I don't know about your regents, but I'm freakishly busy with the day-to-day already, I don't need to put a war on top of that."
Solveig laughed, "You have quite a head on your shoulders, sir! You see me and you think `he's utilitarian and plain-spoken, I'll cater to that.` Well, you're damned right; I am! I agree with you, Majesty, about the annoyance of war, but there's a problem you seem to miss."
"What's that?"
The bannerman's glance became dangerous, "You're holding it tight with elves. People I've fought and killed with abandon glee for the better part of a century. One of them owes me an eye, but the one I have is still good, and when it looks at your scheming, all it can see is the Pentarchy imploding as the Xadian Assembly dances a waltz on our bloody graves. You're failing to see the threat they represent."
"Sure, I'm friendly with them", Ezran replied, "But I'm not hiding anything. If you're worried that I'd take their side over yours, you're wrong."
Solveig's eyebrows shot into his hairline. That was unexpected and he was unwilling to hide it.
"When push comes to shove, I'll count on you, Solveig. I'll send the few soldiers I've left to kill my elven friends if that saves our alliance", Ezran flared, "Until their answer wipes us all off the map! Look outside. Nine. Dragons. NINE!", he shouted, "The Standing Battalion was the pride of Katolis, the best soldiers for the worst job. Sixteen ballistas, a border fortress! All it took to kill them was nine normal dragons!"
Solveig blinked as Ezran continued, "Paint a picture for me - how are we going to beat the six dozen or so minor dragons that we think are out there? Oh yes, of course, sunfire dragons are the best warriors, right? Even so, there's not enough dark magic to save us if they have even a tiny bit of strategic thin-"
There was a loud rap at the door.
Ezran sighed, deflating. He really needed more sleep.
"Come", he said, hoarsely.
The door opened and everyone rose. It was Aanya, in person. She took a worried look at Ezran, giving a curt nod.
"Ezran. Gentlemen. I believe I've heard all I needed to from down the hall. It's not every day the Lord upon Twin Towers raises his voice."
She closed the door and stepped behind Ezran, placing a hand on his shoulder. She whispered in his ear, "You need to rest more. The world won't be better for hotter heads."
"That's fair", Ezran said, running a hand through his hair and getting it tangled in his crown.
Aanya stepped forward, to place her hands on Ezran's makeshift desk.
"Minister Solveig, I'm assuming you made your point as to preferring human companionship over that of elves?"
"Yes, Madame. It is my King's position."
"Indeed, it must be all our positions", she nodded, then her mien darkened and she added, "As a last resort. Duren prefers peace. We've buried our dead and do not wish to add more graves."
"Then we agree", Ebro spoke, throwing nervous glances at all of them, "We must ward off Jorge's attack by all means available to us."
"Not all means, Falconer", Aanya said, "If he refuses to take to our arguments, we cannot help but follow him into battle. Anything else would break our accords."
She glared at Solveig, "However, in your own self-interest, Minister, I recommend you keep this to yourself or I will remind you and your regent of certain issues that have come to my attention. Issues involving some of Florian's war chests?"
Solveig chortled, "I appreciate your candid threat, Madame. It is well placed and will have the desired effect: My mouth is sealed. However..." , he leaned forward with a small smile, "Should you, for some reason, decide that standing with the elves is attractive to you after all, let me assure you that Del Bar will see it as a very clear, very personal insult, and our response would be in kind", steel and blood were in his words, "Clear. Personal."
With that, he got up, bowed and strode out.
Aanya looked after him, then shrugged. "A ruffian to be sure. Falconer, you seem very uncomfortable. Is this your first assignment?"
"My second, Madame."
"Well!", she smiled, "Welcome to the world of scheming and harsh words, then."