“…let us not sour this time with pointless bitterness,” Lord Nazael’s demure voice resonated lightly throughout the chamber once the drow had taken his leave. Even if he too felt some uneasiness with Dezus’ presence in the Ivory palace, what with the floating rumors about the possible danger in such close approximation to the royal family, he himself did not harbor such hatred and ire. His personal priorities had never been clearer to him than they had been in these past few months, and he too felt that urgency to assure the kingdom’s safety more keenly. The nobleman shifted lightly, leaning upon the back of his seat. “These are troubled times, and such energy is better put to use strategizing against our enemies…rather than glaring amongst allies…even potential ones…”
Lord Elmtree closed his eyes, lightly drumming his fingers on the arm of his seat. “As much as the situation is not preferred, such is little to ail us in this prospect,” he mused thoughtfully, keeping his face impassive. “This entire war haunts us more, and the humans may be the lesser evil. Better to allow fellows and allies to tread carefully on our land than the Orcs tearing Urdu into their own subjugated, afflicted lands of the North.”
Lord Elmtree closed his eyes, lightly drumming his fingers on the arm of his seat. “As much as the situation is not preferred, such is little to ail us in this prospect,” he mused thoughtfully, keeping his face impassive. “This entire war haunts us more, and the humans may be the lesser evil. Better to allow fellows and allies to tread carefully on our land than the Orcs tearing Urdu into their own subjugated, afflicted lands of the North.”
Elvira allowed herself to inconspicuously release a breath. It had been a dangerous gamble to effectively work behind the back of the Council; had such a maneuver failed, it would likely mean certain death to the only alternative that the Elvatian viably had. Perhaps, the ploy had also the side effect of turning their attentions and uniting them over what would be a common suspicion, which was almost welcome. It was better for the Council to be united on one front than be divided in their efforts.
It had been the gods’ blessing that they would even consider. This would be only the first of several trials to secure such an alliance. Social pressure was a fickle thing, and Elvira had been granted just enough blessing that such could be used in her favor. Turning away a willing ally now would possibly add another hostile kingdom and race to their growing list—a fact that the Queen was sure that most if not all of the Council had acknowledged. She could only hope that Ecru would continue to smile upon her.
It had taken a certain amount of self-control to keep silent upon the distasteful treatment of her half-brother. Although in this moment she did not rise to his aid since she had considered the possibility that they would provoke him in the attempt to get some rise from her. Which would then cement the idea in their eyes that she was an incompetent ruler. The Queen is aware that the Council are divided over her decisions and rulings of Urdu, even as she has done what she believes that her late father would have wanted for them all. If Dezus ever glanced at her before he left the room, she would’ve offered him a soft smile, a glance that assured him not to worry about the remarks, the insults. They were all but words. She always assured that nothing more than that would ever afflict Dezus.
There was another moment of pause before she turned back to Lady Filauria. “I believe that in the interruption, I have neglected to answer your question, so I will answer it now. While it may seem counterintuitive to send any number of our forces away, the return on our investment, from a number standpoint, is tilted in our favor. I would assure this myself, but I believe that King Joseph would like to speak about this himself.”
It had been the gods’ blessing that they would even consider. This would be only the first of several trials to secure such an alliance. Social pressure was a fickle thing, and Elvira had been granted just enough blessing that such could be used in her favor. Turning away a willing ally now would possibly add another hostile kingdom and race to their growing list—a fact that the Queen was sure that most if not all of the Council had acknowledged. She could only hope that Ecru would continue to smile upon her.
It had taken a certain amount of self-control to keep silent upon the distasteful treatment of her half-brother. Although in this moment she did not rise to his aid since she had considered the possibility that they would provoke him in the attempt to get some rise from her. Which would then cement the idea in their eyes that she was an incompetent ruler. The Queen is aware that the Council are divided over her decisions and rulings of Urdu, even as she has done what she believes that her late father would have wanted for them all. If Dezus ever glanced at her before he left the room, she would’ve offered him a soft smile, a glance that assured him not to worry about the remarks, the insults. They were all but words. She always assured that nothing more than that would ever afflict Dezus.
There was another moment of pause before she turned back to Lady Filauria. “I believe that in the interruption, I have neglected to answer your question, so I will answer it now. While it may seem counterintuitive to send any number of our forces away, the return on our investment, from a number standpoint, is tilted in our favor. I would assure this myself, but I believe that King Joseph would like to speak about this himself.”
The diviner soothed herself where fervid words stoked tempers. In truth, though a number of the presently convened had all professed themselves to defend Urdu with their vapid, pretty words and promises, Etoile found their passions... wanting. The diviner was principally looked on as a youth by comparison to her kin, some reaching well into a hundred years breaching the point of a millennium. Liberal and "lofty" goals were ascribed to her on account of it. But then, her kin often had some remark prepared for her.
Where most had a head of hair gold as wheat, silver as ivory, or dark as ink, hers was the reddish violet of wine rivulets. Her blue eyes were flecked with silver that emerged come the first years of girlhood, a trait appraised to be the portent of an astral diviner. True to it, there she stood, arrayed in silks the pink of blossoms with a cord of crystals girding her waist. Within her delicately closed fingers rested her tarot deck, cradled with the fondness of a babe by its mother.
She had assumed her rightful place behind the Queen Elvira, a wordless motion of where her loyalties lied. In the brevity of her service, already the newer queen had imparted devotion in Etoile and tended to it carefully. For here was a royal who would challenge the rigidity of their history if it meant protecting the realm and its children. A royal, Etoile knew, she would counsel and follow well until death or dismissal. Even in her persistence to keep the place for Dezus carved by her father. So when the existence of her correspondence with a human king was declared and met with expected cynicism and unease, Etoile felt her tongue loosen behind her lips that she might defend the Queen Elvira.
But such an indecorous outburst might have strained the already "spirited" talks, and she would not breathe further life into the thoughts of her as a child. Yet, a "child" some regarded her, and she found concord with perhaps the eldest. The Lady Talindria, true to the nature of their people, retained grace in form and limb though her years surpassed them all. Etoile found amusement in her truths, unapologetic in a place where the uncouth was ridiculed. The other elven lords and ladies seemed willing to perish for their stringent ways. For the time being.
Like dipping a finger to a pond, the ripples of unity came slowly to the gathered. Etoile might have smiled, but perhaps the gesture would have been taken in mockery. A fond look of softened eyes and little else is turned upon the Queen, and no words needed be spoken unless she asked. That the Council had even humored to discuss her proposed alliance was favorable for all when enemies encroached from different corners. With straightened back, expectant, she peers to where the human monarch and his entourage might emerge.
Where most had a head of hair gold as wheat, silver as ivory, or dark as ink, hers was the reddish violet of wine rivulets. Her blue eyes were flecked with silver that emerged come the first years of girlhood, a trait appraised to be the portent of an astral diviner. True to it, there she stood, arrayed in silks the pink of blossoms with a cord of crystals girding her waist. Within her delicately closed fingers rested her tarot deck, cradled with the fondness of a babe by its mother.
She had assumed her rightful place behind the Queen Elvira, a wordless motion of where her loyalties lied. In the brevity of her service, already the newer queen had imparted devotion in Etoile and tended to it carefully. For here was a royal who would challenge the rigidity of their history if it meant protecting the realm and its children. A royal, Etoile knew, she would counsel and follow well until death or dismissal. Even in her persistence to keep the place for Dezus carved by her father. So when the existence of her correspondence with a human king was declared and met with expected cynicism and unease, Etoile felt her tongue loosen behind her lips that she might defend the Queen Elvira.
But such an indecorous outburst might have strained the already "spirited" talks, and she would not breathe further life into the thoughts of her as a child. Yet, a "child" some regarded her, and she found concord with perhaps the eldest. The Lady Talindria, true to the nature of their people, retained grace in form and limb though her years surpassed them all. Etoile found amusement in her truths, unapologetic in a place where the uncouth was ridiculed. The other elven lords and ladies seemed willing to perish for their stringent ways. For the time being.
Like dipping a finger to a pond, the ripples of unity came slowly to the gathered. Etoile might have smiled, but perhaps the gesture would have been taken in mockery. A fond look of softened eyes and little else is turned upon the Queen, and no words needed be spoken unless she asked. That the Council had even humored to discuss her proposed alliance was favorable for all when enemies encroached from different corners. With straightened back, expectant, she peers to where the human monarch and his entourage might emerge.
Caerthynna’n sat erect in her seat, waiting patiently for the Knights to arrive. She listened to Lord Nazael and Lord Elmtree uncomfortably, finding more comfort when the stench of Underdark was ridden from her—Dezus was a weakness to Elvira. She was always defending him and loving him, even after he was reported from Matron Jenessta of Kemmu City as a relic thief. Jharadis was no different, taking the Drow in, a criminal that cost them another powerful ally. Was it incompetence or just royal imperfection, to love an untamed animal? She pondered.
Either way, here we were now...she licked the sweet skin from her comely lips that still lingered of blue fion wine. Her golden fingers tapped the table impatiently, while she awaited the royal audience. That was when Elvira finally answered her. She swallowed her dry throat and decided to pour herself more wine. She sipped it wickedly, while her eyes rolled over to her Monarch’s attention.
“I surely never expected this. Yet like your father, you are brilliant in dealing with the unexpected.” Her eyes glared at the main doors, girlishly as they swung open...
Gweyr escorted the Knights inside. Along side her were a few dozen female warriors called the Queen’s Talons. They were one of the positives about Elvira’s Contingent. Commander Gweyr was loyal and had trained a fearless elf unit. Gweyr already gave Joseph and his people a tour and now they finally breached the council chamber.
“Gweyr, you haven’t aged in a day. It’s been almost twenty five years since I’ve seen you and your wildlings enter the Capital city.”
“Filauria.” She smiled, faintly. “We wood elves, or wildlings as you call us, prefer the more harsher forest. Thus today we found coming here quite necessary. Nothing personal to the years prior.”
Filauria sipped her goblet. “No offense taken. We appreciate the work you do for Urdu. Glad to hear that your aren’t dead. Now...Sii', manke naa sina handsome Aran tanya ilya i' edhel girls naa fussien about?”
Gweyr bowed and turned her attention to Elvira. “Quel Council ar' lle Grace, amin creosa lle, Joseph Henry III en' Jubilee.“
Either way, here we were now...she licked the sweet skin from her comely lips that still lingered of blue fion wine. Her golden fingers tapped the table impatiently, while she awaited the royal audience. That was when Elvira finally answered her. She swallowed her dry throat and decided to pour herself more wine. She sipped it wickedly, while her eyes rolled over to her Monarch’s attention.
“I surely never expected this. Yet like your father, you are brilliant in dealing with the unexpected.” Her eyes glared at the main doors, girlishly as they swung open...
Gweyr escorted the Knights inside. Along side her were a few dozen female warriors called the Queen’s Talons. They were one of the positives about Elvira’s Contingent. Commander Gweyr was loyal and had trained a fearless elf unit. Gweyr already gave Joseph and his people a tour and now they finally breached the council chamber.
“Gweyr, you haven’t aged in a day. It’s been almost twenty five years since I’ve seen you and your wildlings enter the Capital city.”
“Filauria.” She smiled, faintly. “We wood elves, or wildlings as you call us, prefer the more harsher forest. Thus today we found coming here quite necessary. Nothing personal to the years prior.”
Filauria sipped her goblet. “No offense taken. We appreciate the work you do for Urdu. Glad to hear that your aren’t dead. Now...Sii', manke naa sina handsome Aran tanya ilya i' edhel girls naa fussien about?”
Gweyr bowed and turned her attention to Elvira. “Quel Council ar' lle Grace, amin creosa lle, Joseph Henry III en' Jubilee.“
Damian Nazael had been sitting there for the entire council meeting, his bright golden eyes flicking to each Council member as they spoke, but his gaze couldn't help but keep returning to his father. Ildris' pallor had been getting increasingly ashen as the meeting progressed. The illness had been worsening over recent months, and had only increased its onslaught over the last fortnight. No potential cure they had tried had any sort of success in counteracting it, and the sickness seemed to be mocking them by progressing further and faster than it had before. Additionally, Ildris had been bringing him to council meetings with increased frequency as his condition worsened. He didn't want to think about such things, but...he was afraid this meant that his father's time was almost up.
The young noble's eyes also kept going back to Lord Nemoto, his private tutor of magic for the last 32 years. He had thought about asking his instructor for help on multiple occasions. Damian was very close with his father - especially after his mother had died when he was very young - and he didn't want to lose him. However, the thing that had always stalled him was that this was something private, and he felt that it would be inappropriate to burden his tutor with such a personal matter.
All that aside, he was interested in what King Joseph had to say. He wondered how Her Majesty had managed to forge this alliance, especially behind the council's back. It actually impressed him somewhat. Despite the obvious hostility directed at her from all sides, she managed to keep a cool head and navigate these dangerous waters with practiced skill. It was an admirable trait. He watched as Lady Illy'vana led in the visiting Human entourage and announced the visiting monarch. Damian turned his eyes upon the entrance to the chamber, waiting for Joseph to appear.
The young noble's eyes also kept going back to Lord Nemoto, his private tutor of magic for the last 32 years. He had thought about asking his instructor for help on multiple occasions. Damian was very close with his father - especially after his mother had died when he was very young - and he didn't want to lose him. However, the thing that had always stalled him was that this was something private, and he felt that it would be inappropriate to burden his tutor with such a personal matter.
All that aside, he was interested in what King Joseph had to say. He wondered how Her Majesty had managed to forge this alliance, especially behind the council's back. It actually impressed him somewhat. Despite the obvious hostility directed at her from all sides, she managed to keep a cool head and navigate these dangerous waters with practiced skill. It was an admirable trait. He watched as Lady Illy'vana led in the visiting Human entourage and announced the visiting monarch. Damian turned his eyes upon the entrance to the chamber, waiting for Joseph to appear.
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