Fantasy Heir’s Augury [Closed]

[pointmango]

Elyana, wishing she had not spoken at this moment, nodded gravely as the others attempted to explain further information to her. Even with the tension growing in the room, she truly could not understand what everyone was feeling. Not yet anyway. She found it odd though, how the conversation struck almost strictly between those younger in the room. Even though Lyram was the Lord of the North now, why was Victor not setting in any input?

“We shouldn’t have let them take Hector,” Conrad nearly growled, dangerous eyes darting to his father.

“The arrangement for a Northern diplomat in Illguard has been in place long before news of the Wild Hunt came. It had to be one of you three, and he was the most obvious choice.” Victor’s tone had little patience for his youngest sons rage. “We are all upset, we should listen to the boy, whom Hector has entrusted.” Victor motioned as Mathys began to speak on the ex hunters book.

Ethon was listening intently as Mathys spoke. His hands folded together in his lap, and his knuckles white. The North was bigger, he nodded. He lifted his head as Mathys spoke of mages. Aiyda was quick to quip in, before Conrad could, Ethon thought. Ethon’s head lifted more when Mathys showed the group the drawings.

“Mages? There are no more mages in Armath.” Conrad spoke.

“How do you know?” Ethon asked now speaking up.

“Because the last records of them are of these myths like the Wild Hunt.” Conrad said.

Ethon shook his head, “They were massacred. People were afraid. Remember the stories, this history,” Ethon said. “They must’ve gone into hiding. Perhaps tried to blend. It has been so long, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the practice is dead.” Ethon told them.

“This is stupid, we should be forging our own weapons, teaching men to fight.” Conrad banged his fist on the table.

“There has to be someone who still practices, somewhere out there, we can find them. Come on, elders in the village speak of old magic all the time.” Ethon pushed.

Conrad scoffed, “You want to trust a bunk of drunk old oafs in the village to win a war?” He asked. Then Conrad looked to his brother now, “Lyram, we cannot wage this on magic. Magic that hasn’t existed in over a hundred years.”

Ethon spoke nothing, since the question was now addressed to Lyram he had no more pull. But he didn’t care much anymore. They needed magic. Whether it was someone who new of the weapons, or of magic itself… or to even teach the magic. He remembered the old woman in the pubs when he and Conrad would explore the village a few years ago, the one who had the symbol on her necklace. And Leon. The old drunken man whom he thought was crazy, he seemed to take an interest in Aiyda.

 

[peritwinkle]

Aiyda ran her gaze over the symbols quietly as the room around her raged and boiled, trying to match them with the pictures drawn by Hector in his journal. It made sense that they would fit those seen in the past perfectly, for the dark embodiment which had attacked her family - and now, yet another village - could not be anything else but the same magic of old that had doomed the land of Armath centuries before.

"All our men and all our weapons would not leave as much as a scratch on them," she snarled back at him. "I saw it with my own eyes. Steel slides through them like cutting fog. If it had been that easy, I assure you the greatest hunters in Armath would not have perished. We have to fight magic with magic!"

She heard Lyram slap his palm against the table in a barely contained attempt at silencing them. His face was pale, and she could see that his patience hung by a thin string in that moment. "We have every evidence we need that the Wild Hunt has returned, brother," he addressed Conrad then. "I would dare say the idea of mages still roaming our lands does not seem as difficult to believe any longer."

He turned to Ethon and nodded, "If you know of any villagers who might have insight on the Wild Hunt, on magic, do pay them a visit as soon as you can. Sane or not, this is the only lead we've had so far."

Mathys cleared his throat loudly, and the eyes in the room turned to him. He gulped, and pointed his fingers at the drawings in the old book. "I have seen this before, a few times," he said. "When Aiyda and I were children, our father would take us South to a man in a village called Eldstead. He... He taught us how to read and write, he was an ex-maester and a hunter, but too old to practise anymore. He had symbols quite like this scattered around the room, etched on his..."

"On his weapons," Aiyda finished, her eyes lighting up at the memory of it. "He was the man who made my bow. The etchings on it, they match these drawings. He... He made me arrows, as well, but I lost them when I was little and practising my shot, father was furious."

She looked over to her brother, then to Conrad, her cheeks red. "We have to go to Eldstead and find this man. If what Mathys deduced is true, then only these weapons make the connection between the land of the living and... And whatever the Wild Hunt is."

"We have no certainty that he is still around," her brother muttered.

"We have no other lead," Lyram agreed. "We have to proceed quickly if we do, before another attack ensues."

"A letter has come," the maester interrupted, "that the King's men will be arriving from Silver Cliff within a week. Lord Conrad should greet th-"

"A week?!" Aiyda snapped. "It will take us another to reach Eldstead, and another to return. We cannot wait that long. I can go without him, I will take Mathys with me, and a dozen men. We need to get to the bottom of it before the next full moon."

 

[pointmango]

Ethon nodded at Lyram’s direction. He would head out tonight, find out what he could on magic, and if there were anymore inklings wandering around the North. He’d never seen Lyram so angry, but he admired how he shut off any of Conrad’s doubts.

When Mathys began speaking everyone looked to him, and Aiyda finished his thoughts, her own ideas pressing forward on how the matter should be handled. Conrad’s eyes met hers, “I will come. We won’t need twelve men. We should only spare what we must, we’ll take Brask and Monty.”

“No, I will go with them.” Ethon said. “Conrad, you need to be here when the King’s men arrive.”

“Lyram will receive them fine. Besides, if we must travel a week, there and back and cross paths with anyone important, who is to listen to a stable boy, rather than a Lord of White Hall?” Conrad countered.

“I’m not-” he began too quickly. “Perhaps a more subtle approach.” Ethon suggested. “Just me, two guards, Aiyda, and Math-” Ethon started but was cut off.

Victor however banged his hand on the table now. “The boy should stay.” He spoke his gaze clear on Mathys even though his tone was addressing Lyram. “Lyram, it is to your discretion who travels. But I advise that you keep Mathys Seaberian here.” Victor’s tone was calm. “Should he have another vision that might help us, he should stay where you are.” Victor told his oldest son.

“And to you both,” Victor now speaking to Ethon and Conrad, “Lyram will decide who travels. Your points are fair although your intention childish.” His eyes looking between the two he wished to call men, but whom were so clearly boys. “Conrad’s title could assist in the travels south should they run into trouble or need help. However, Ethon is also right, should no trouble come along, him riding with her will cause less heads to turn. Our journey, of course is no secret, but questions could impact this time sensitive endeavor.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Lyram had expected the outburst from the two boys after Aiyda's insistence to go alone, and in that moment, he could not blame them. He remembered what Conrad had told him before his marriage to Elyana, and the thought floated about his mind, now too apparent for him not to notice. They both feared for the girl - a futile fear, but one he could not hope to cleanse their minds of.

His father's stance, however, made no sense in his mind. He looked over to Mathys for a moment, then turned back to Victor, who already seemed fed up with the tension between them. "Mathys is the most informed on this matter out of us all," he said. "It someone should accompany Aiyda, it has to be him. We cannot keep him as a library rat in White Hall until we figure everything out. If they do get lucky enough to find the man who made Aiyda's bow, then he should be there to explain everything to him."

Mathys seemed to relax slightly, reclaiming his seat and leaning back with a lost, thoughtful gaze. Lyram continued, this once looking at Ethon and his brother, one more impatient than the other. "We all know what happened when one of you was not allowed to join in," he sighed, his eyes flickering to Ethon for a moment. "I suggest we wait a week, until the King's men arrive and settle. Conrad is the head of our army, therefore it is expected of him to greet them."

"We should send a letter to Eldstead in the meantime," Mathys suggested quietly. "If we get there and our teacher is gone, we will have wasted time regardless."

Lyram nodded, this time more calm and calculated. He breathed out and looked down at the drawings one more time, as though trying to catch on anything he had missed before. "Then it is settled. Monty and Brask will join you four, after the arrival of our swordsmen. Until then, we will make sure to inform the close villages and towns of this matter, call upon the other Lords... The council, for now, is dismissed."

If they couldn't deter the Wild Hunt just yet, they could at least make it harder for them to strike. In those times he needed the North to gather and stay united.

 

[pointmango]

Victor now frowned at his eldest son. He admired his ability to make a decision, and stand his ground. But to send his four closest informants and comrades South was foolish.

Conrad and Ethon however seemed relatively pleased with Lyram’s decision. Despite Lyram’s dig, Ethon was glad he would get to know more of Armath as a whole, as well as accompany Aiyda.

When Lyram dismissed the meeting, Ethon moved over to him, jotting down two names on a piece of parchment before him. “I’ll probably head to the pubs tonight, ask around. Figured I’d let you know who I’m starting with.” He said with a shrug. “Hopefully I’ll be gone most of the night.” He pushed forth a hopeful smile. He had a week to gather all information on magic he could.

Victor waited until Lyram was done speaking with Ethon. Caterina looked back at her husband and her eldest son, her boy who was too grown up for his own good. “You did excellent, Lyram.” Caterina told him with a sad smile as she left the chamber rooms.

Victor did not look so proud. He motioned for him and Lyram to move to the side, as his voice was hushed, “Be careful son.” He told him in a grave tone. “I appreciate your efforts of duty and respect, sending the boy along, and allowing both Ethon and Conrad to join to avoid resistance. But in this council you saw all of whom was in this room. Nine people. Sending four south for information one or two could carry... “ Victor trailed off. “And letting a seer go,” Victor was almost disappointed. There was a reason people didn’t speak of visions like Mathys. If they had any enemies and Mathys was found out a seer… if that’s even what he was, well Victor knew he would be killed first. “The people who just stood in this room are more important than you know, son. Let them trust you, and you them.” Victor was unsure if Lyram could see how powerful the people he had by his side where.

“You did alright, son.” Victor told him with a small nod now, hoping his son would trust the others, and they trust him.

 

[peritwinkle]

As the crowd broke apart and each went their own way, Lyram followed his father into the dark hallway by the door, watching his mother and Ethon walk past. He could not feel any pride in that moment, for all of his feelings seemed clouded by the worries on his mind, when otherwise, he would have been brimming with joy at his father's words.

He knew all too well the worth of the people in the room. He knew how dangerous Conrad was, how valuable Mathys's talents were, how influential Aiyda would come to be. He was but the messenger of their efforts, and he wished to see them succeed, yet he knew such victory was less likely to happen if he separated them when their efforts combined had proven to be most fruitful until then.

"Thank you, father," he managed softly, and offered him a nod of acknowledgement. There was no point in convincing him otherwise, for he knew that, in a sense, he was right, yet he believed his decision to send Mathys away with his sister would be best in that situation. Both Ethon and Conrad were well versed in the art of swordfighting, where Aiyda would not be able to intervene. With Brask and Monty there, as well, they were safe, but discreet.

*

Aiyda did not leave the council room with the others. As soon as the room emptied, she fixated her eyes on Conrad, who appeared overrun with a barely smothered anger. In the icy silence, she walked over to where he stood, over the long wooden table, and leaned against its edge with a soft sigh.

"I only saw you like this once before," she said quietly. "I suppose I should get used to this. To seeing you as Lord Sterling instead of... Conrad."

He was cold, impervious, and the look on his face and tension in his body scared her. "If we have to wait another week, I don't want to spent it trying to avoid thinking about what you said to me last night. Drunk or not." There was much time until they would have to leave, time in which she would either be dodging Ethon after his outburst, or holding in any longing gazes when she thought the other was not looking.

The cape draping over her shoulders did little to comfort her in that moment. Ethon's words echoed in her mind - of her being his blade of ice - and now, they seemed all the more believable. After all, it was a weapon of the North that could potentially bring an end to the Wild Hunt.

"It hurts me too, you know," she whispered. "How fragile we all seem now. I keep lying to myself that if I deny it, if I look away, I will not be hurt if I lose you, and that you will not care if I die in the end. It's why I... disappointed Ethon. Though why I turned to you for comfort, that is another of grief's many mysteries. Neither of you two will understand, I don't either."

Just as Ethon did not understand how she had come to care for Conrad... How Conrad would not understand her reluctance. Strong, and proud, and lordly as he was then, there had not been another moment she had wanted to kiss him more, whilst at the same time resented her weakness.

 

[pointmango]

Conrad stayed back with Aiyda, his jaw clenched tightly. Her words were gentle, and yet uncertain. Like she wanted him to understand something she didn’t understand herself. It was maddening. And then she went, comparing him and her, to her and Ethon, and feeling some sort of way about losing either of them.

“I’m not fragile.” Conrad informed her, “Neither is the North.” he added. “You say it right now, that you’re lying if you say you don't care. That it wouldn't hurt.” He stepped in closer to her a moment. “You’re right I don’t understand, nor do I care to. I want you. And I know some part of you wants me. I want you to give in Aiyda.”

His fists stayed clenched by his sides, and his eyes bore into her brown ones, “I will fight until I am raw and dead. And I know you will do the same. I don’t care how you feel about Ethon. I know that when I am not helping the land that now belongs to my brother, and its people, I want to be with you. That’s it. People are going to die, and we will get hurt,” He told her. “Stop worrying so much about the damned future, we could be dead the next full moon,” he huffed.

*

While sitting at the small council table Hector did his best to keep his back straight and not set his face in his hands as he learned about the debts of the Kingdom. Corban spent money on luxuries he and his people could not afford, and he let his son run about the exact same way.

However, what struck Hector the most was the black haired beauty that sat to the left of her father, who sat to the left of the King. One the other side of Corban was Roddrick. How was a Lady allowed in the small council room of the King. Sure, she would one day be Queen, but he thought very little of her presence. She spent most of the time attempting to eye Roddrick. Every so often Hector would catch her eye and a shiver would travel his spine. She would press a false smile to him that Hector could see right through.

Hector was fascinated with the Quent clan. A house from far West, with odd traditions and exotic clothing. Nalia Quent of Alesandese was a woman he could not read, nor could Hector read her father. The pair were flamboyant, yet in meetings held a poise that seemed to impress the King. Corban took his word and Nalia’s word seriously.

"The convoys have been sent North. We should gather word of their arrival within the week." The Kingsguard commander spoke.

 

[peritwinkle]

Conrad's words burnt her chest with an almost unbearable intensity, and she felt her heart beat against her sternum wildly, a reminder of the night before. As he got close, she could feel his warm breath against her skin, now shadowed by his wide frame. He wanted her, yet the reasons behind his longing were still a mystery she lacked the courage to question.

Without thinking, Aiyda cupped his cheek and pressed her lips against his with the same intensity as his own goodnight kiss. With the other hand, she took his, and guided it slightly below her back, not yet breaking away. She wanted him to understand, to know how she felt without flustering and stumbling in sugar-coated words. That, at least, was a language she knew he spoke well enough.

When she did break away, she rested her forehead against his and let out a soft sigh. "I wish you knew how torn I am," she murmured, "that I don't doubt what I feel for you, but that I can't allow myself to act on it. I wish you understood how much it hurts."

A fragment of her joyful past still lingered within her, and he was the reflection of it in its entirety. Ethon was her present, her pain, her safe haven, yet how could she explain that to either of them? How could she tell Conrad that each time she kissed him back, she was shadowed by a sour guilt?

She kissed him again, this time more softly, and broke away with a step back. "I know your patience is too much to ask for," she said. "But please don't berate me too. Please..."

 

[pointmango]

She came to kiss him this time. Her intensity similar to the previous nights, and his own lips pressed fiercely back into hers as his eyes closed. Her hand guided his, and he let his other hand come firmly to her waist. For him, the kiss was too short. He held his eyes closed as she broke away, feeling her soft breath as her forehead against his.

He couldn’t understand. And how could he explain to her that it hurt him, when he was not this close to her? How could he press that back on her. Her kiss came again, and when she stepped back she asked for patience. Patience was never a virtue Conrad held.

His eyes were open now as he looked over her, “Patience,” he repeated quietly. “I was never very good when it came to patience.” He took a step towards her, close, but not touching her. “I will try.” He told her. “But I need to ask something of you,” he informed her.

Before his question he took a step back, “I wish you to try to understand how I hurt.” his voice lowering, in fear another would be listening, “How I hurt when I am not near you. When I do not know where you are…. When you are in danger.” He told her. “Try to understand for me, and I will for you.”

His eyes lingered over her again, then he stepped forward slowly, leaning down and pressing an innocent kiss upon her forehead just where her red hair met her pale skin.

 

[peritwinkle]

His voice was soft, gentle, begging for her to listen, and Aiyda was taken aback by his blunt honesty. She had not seen him like that before, and never once truly believed that she was on his mind outside of their interactions. There was no doubting it then, and the realization of it made her heart ache. Had he felt the same ever since holding her cold body in his arms that day in Northcross?

She felt her eyes sting and tears roll down her cheeks as he kissed her forehead. Her arms came around his shoulders again, and she hid her eyes in the crook of his neck, trying to keep herself from bursting out. She knew he could feel her heart beat against his - hear it, even - and she felt too pathetic and vulnerable then.

"You have a family to protect, Conrad," she whispered. "You can't fear for me too. You can't think about... whether I'm alive, when you're fighting for your own life. You have to go on."

She did not want to paint the image of the battlefield in her mind just yet. No man fought well with a clear head, especially if he knew her to be fighting as well. He was not meant to sacrifice himself, not him, not a true child of the North like Conrad Sterling. She jokingly thought then, that he was better off a reckless beast with no feelings, like before.

Caressing the back of his neck, Aiyda shut her eyes tight and kissed his jaw. "I am strong enough to defend myself and Mathys. Don't worry about me. A Lord shouldn't bother his mind with a hunter's daughter," she smiled sadly, and leaned back to look at him. "You will marry one day, and this will all seem so puerile... You are a lucky one, I see it in you. If one of us will make it through the war, it's you."

 

[pointmango]

His jaw locked when she spoke of family. None of his family would be on the front lines with them. He would stand there because he would lead the army. And he knew she would present herself forward to be on the lines. His chin rested on the top of her head and his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Her telling him not to worry was pointless. He always worried about her now, every since the bear attack. Conrad looked back at her as she leaned back. “I know you are strong.” He replied. “But what if I don’t survive?” He told her. “Or I do and you do not.” He frowned. “I will marry whomever I wish to marry.” His frowned only growing.

Truthfully Conrad never thought much about marriage. He expected himself to be married for a trade deal, and continue to fuck whomever he pleased as he pleased. “What if what I see in you is more than a survivor the hunt.” He told her stepping forward again. One of his hands moved to her waist, the other lifted, his thumb pushing away a tear line on her cheek. “You are the daughter of a man who lead the Hunters of Northcross.” He stepped in again, his torso pressing to hers, “The people of the North would respect you.” He began, letting his words out before he truly realized what he was alluding to.

“It is very hard to not press this.” Conrad whispered leaning his head down to hers, his lips touching hers softly at first. “All I can say is worry about yourself Aiyda. Mathys is intelligent, and he has good instincts. Besides,” Conrad leaned back slightly, “Lyram will keep him out of the thick of it as long as possible. No matter how much he wants in.” Conrad smiled slightly, admiring the boys will.

His hand on her cheek then pushed through the side of her head, tangling in her hair. “You’ve spent nights with him,” Conrad whispered now. He’d heard rumors spreading throughout the castle, how Ethon and the Huntress slept in the same room often. “Spend a night with me.” He whispered.

 

[peritwinkle]

Deep inside, Aiyda knew Conrad was right. He would be fighting in the vanguard, facing their enemy head first, and she would shoot her arrows too far away to for them to protect one another. Their fate, the fate of Ethon, and Lyram, and Mathys, hung by a thin string, and there was little she could do to ensure their safety. If their hypothetical conjecture proved useful, that was.

His words of the Northerners, of his people respecting her, brought odd thoughts into her mind, and she felt her heart tighten for a moment. Was that what he truly wanted? Did he want to keep her by his side, instead of brushing her away once the thrill of the challenge faded away? His touches were sweet and gentle, a silent promise of safety, and in that moment she believed him.

She closed her eyes and pressed another kiss to his lips, then the corner of his mouth, then his cheek. “Your guards would see us,” she whispered. “I don’t want to think what was rumoured about Ethon and I through the castle,” she added with a sad sigh. She knew they knew, and did not care for their small talk, yet the thought of being seen with Conrad... of Ethon seeing her with him... that was different.

Guilt ate at her, scourged and bruised her heart. She leaned her forehead against her chin for a moment, breathed, then pulled herself away and looked him in the eye just like before, nothing more than a huntress speaking to her Lord. “I’ll be in my room tonight,” she said. “If you need me, come see me.” She wanted him to find a way. She wanted to see if a night by his side was a cure to her distressing nightmares.

If it would bring just a hint of her past self back, as he had the night before, at the feast.

With a brief and flat smile, she turned on her heels and vanished out of the council room, leaving behind a faint scent of jasmine from her still perfumed hair.

 

[pointmango]

Conrad watched her carefully as she spoke of the rumors of her and Ethon. Rumors. Were they just rumors? Was there more to it? His eyes followed her as she left the council room, pressing his definition of the word need. Would he need her tonight?

*

Elyana sat before a small vanity in the corner of Lyram’s bedroom. She supposed it was hers and Lyram’s room. Her back was straight as she looked at herself in the mirror. She remembered when she was young, her mother standing behind her braiding her hair, as she was doing then before bed. She did look like her mother, and she knew that was why her father was so distant when she passed. She wished her mother could have been there to see her married.

She wondered if her mother every felt the pressure Elyana did when she married her father. Elyana wanted the northern people to like her. But in such a stressful time, and with winter approaching, it was hard to gage what the people needed and wanted from her.

“What will happen when the soldiers from Illguard come?” She asked carefully as she worked on her braid. “I assume the generals will stay here, but will they camp? Or will they be quartered?” She wondered as the cold would make camping difficult.

*

Conrad laid restlessly in bed. The idea of Aiyda in her own bed, waiting for him, or worse, with Ethon wouldn’t let his own eyes closed. He should stay away, she didn’t need him. There was too much going on. So when his fist was knocking on her door, he would have liked to have said it was a surprise.

All he wore as he knocked was a pair of thin trousers, and an overcoat as he had walked across the castle. He’d never traveled to the servants quarters before, they always came to him. His mind traveled to Arah, the last servant he had been with. Then his mind traveled to what Arah did for him. And now his mind was imagining Aiyda doing the same, and he knocked again, this time louder and more quickly. “Aiyda,” He spoke against the door in a whisper. Ethon and Mathys room was too close to hers for comfort.

 

[peritwinkle]

That day, despite not having solicit too much physical action out of him, had drained Lyram of all his energy and will to keep his wall of nobility up. As he slowly paced around the room, he listened to Elyana speak, a soft murmur against that of the fire, which only kindled his wish to go to bed and hope to dream of anything but the horrors he had been made aware of that day.

He let out a sigh and shook his head at her question. “No,” said, “White Hall is an imposing castle, but not enough to house more than we already are. Their head, I suppose, and likely his squire, although I do not know of any soldier, captain or not, who would want to abandon his people in favour of a royal roof above his head.”

He took a seat on the edge of the bed, slowly undoing the tight ties of his coat. There was much he needed to discuss with Conrad and their father regarding their visitors. The idea bothered him almost as much as the Wild Hunt. His town was not safe among Kilgours. “They will be given proper conditions outside the city,” he thought to reassure her then. “A day or two of rest and they will each be assigned to bring the Northernmost villagers to safety here within the month.”

They would be housing hundreds of men, women and children, hundreds of souls who each needed food and shelter, that, if their higher-ups agreed on leaving their homelands, and if the other Lord opened their own doors to accommodate the rest.

“I suppose we will need a woman’s sensible mind to deal with some of it,” he thought to suggest then, a faint smile coming to his lips as he got up and walked over behind her. He watched her hand move in the mirror, and he let his own trace her shoulder. “The people will be terrified. They won’t understand, and perhaps it’s better for them that way. But they need a pretty face and kind words to keep them positive... As much as we can provide.”

*

’Aiyda’

Conrad’s voice echoed in her ears, and pulled her from the very edge of slumber. She lay dressed for the day still, her hair disheveled and her shoes still on despite not having left her room since early evening, when she had gone shooting. From the side of her wrist and up to her inner elbow trickled fine bruised lines, which she could feel burning against the soft material of her sleeve. It had been long since she had practiced her blow, and it showed. She could almost hear her father whisper in her ear then - straighten her arm, adjust her back.

The pain didn’t matter any longer once she was up on her feet and heading towards the door. She cracked it open without thinking, and her cheeks turned pink at the sight of him. “This is not any less risky than last night,” she pressed, but made an effort to soften her frown. “I don’t want any trouble, Conrad, and you’re not a particularly easy... face to overlook around here.”

She let out a long breath through her nose and peeked out in the corridor, then her gaze shifted back to him. “Especially not dressed like a male innkeeper.”

 

[pointmango]

Elyana’s delicate fingers tangled in her hair, to produce the ends of her braids. Her eyes watched Lyram pace from the mirror, and when he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, she tied her braid and stood. She carried herself towards him, those delicate fingers coming to the ties of his coat for him. Her brows furrowed as she undid the ties. “I do not think a woman is the help you need.” She whispered. “Of course I will help wherever I can, but the imposing… events…” she trailed off. She would be kept inside, somewhere they deemed safe.

Her hands came to his jaw, and pulled his face to look up at her, “When you were younger, how did you imagine your future?” She asked him carefully. She always poked her brother this question. What did a man set to inherit one of the great territories of Armath dream of. Did he? He had to have.

Her thumb trailed along his jaw gently, desperate to know this man, and to maybe love him before their imposing threats trample them. Her other hand moved to the back of his neck, playing in the ends of his hair.

*

Conrad smiled as she opened the door. His mood a little less tense from the news of earlier, and now his mind fresh with a restless sleep and the idea of sharing a bed with Aiyda. Her cheeks were rosy and he thought he would have a better time guessing if it was the flush of the room or him.

“Well, if I shouldn’t be seen, invite me in.” He replied moving into the room with her, closing the door behind himself. He did look down at himself a moment, realising they last time they saw one another in less clothing was the night he held her from hypothermia.

“Did I wake you?” He asked looking over the state of her dress, she seemed wiped. At least she was sleeping soundly. He thought of Ethon close by, the desire to cause a questioning sound from her room, and then the desire to keep her close and quiet, keeping her as his own little secret.

“I had to come.” he told her, moving to sit on the edge of her bed, a small smile coming to his lips remembering how they spent the last time in her bedroom.

 

[peritwinkle]

Lyram wished to drown in her eyes for the night, and speak of anything but war and fear, yet he knew his responsabilities no longer allowed him to rest. She was, now, the embodiment of his peace, and he felt a fervent need to keep her, to shield her in his arms so nobody could take that pleasure away from him.

He let her touch guide his chin up as she sat him back on the edge of the bed, and his deep blue gaze traced her features for a moment as she spoke. “You are now the Lady of White Hall, Elyana,” he said, and gently took her hand into his own. “As much as I wish you keep you safe, you will need to know your people... And they need to know you, as well, if you wish to be loved and respected by them. They cannot blundly trust a stranger to this land.”

His head canted slightly at her question, another one of her tokens of curiosity to strip him nude of all his mystery. “I always knew I was meant to become the Lord of White Hall,” he explained simply. “I knew I would marry a woman of my family’s choosing, that I wouldn’t have the freedom my younger brothers did... Thankfully I was blessed with far more than I could ever ask for, it seems,” he gave her a smile and brought her hand to his lips. “Boring, hm? I promised honesty... My childhood was not particularly carefree.”

Lyram stood up then, and let his fingers trail over her own jaw, his thumb resting on her chin. “How about you? Did you ever dream of something else? Of another life?” Somewhere warmer, he supposed. Did she ever dream of ruling Armath? “Have you ever wished to marry another, or am I everything you wished for and more?” he teased.

*

Aiyda watched as Conrad stepped inside so carelessly, claiming a seat on the edge of her bed as though it were his. She vividly recalled the last couple of times he had been there, and how drunk on instinct and ale he had been. Now, he seemed as sober as one could ask of him, yet his blue eyes carried his usual playfulness, no longer the brooding wash from before. He seemed... himself.

“I was just dozing off,” she sighed as she locked the door and stepped towards him slowly, swaying as she pulled her dress up above her ankle. It was uncomfortably long for her liking, but she could not complain; at the very least Lehna’s taste in her own clothing was not too bland. “You might have interrupted a nice dream,” she smirked, then her smile faded slightly at the realization of reality.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured. “But I did promise you. I would just have imagined... You wouldn’t want to spend the night in the servants’ quarters.” She stood before him, looking down at him as she set one hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you have in mind... It isn’t happening. I know our names start with the same letter but I feel a slight bit more honourable than her,” she hinted at Arah bitterly.

The room was growing slightly cold from the dying fire, and she remembered the night he had held her to his chest, shuddering and cold, begging for her to stay awake. It had been so pure, so primal, and had come to him so easily, something she would not have seen in him prior to that day.

She took his hand, gently, and placed it on her hip. “I know what it is about you that makes it so hard for me to be impartial,” she whispered. “A little more than a month ago I was like you... Happy. Strong. Careless. I suppose I see my past in everything... you.”

 

[pointmango]

She stared at him curiously, his features glowing she thought, in the dim light of the candles. But his story was sad she thought, “You are too good,” she whispered. Her head leaned upward as Lyram stood. His fingers exploring her face.

“That is the difference isn’t it?” She asked him, smiling herself. “You knew you would be the Lord of White Hall one day, and so you did not allow yourself to dream. I knew I would be married to a Lord or a King. The only daughter of Lord Estermont, securing any treaty with the east… and I couldn’t stop dreaming.” She let her fingers play on the exposed skin of his chest.

“When I was young I dreamed of running away. First I thought I’d live in the flowers, when I figured out that couldn’t work I told myself I would train, and ride away on my horse.” She smiled sadly. “I grew some more, and I think every Lady on Armath dreamed of marrying the young prince. To love a King, and be Queen one day.” She mused.

“Then I met the future King. I was thirteen.” Her voice saddened. “He was awful. Rude, lazy, and he seemed more entertained with listening to my brothers stories of adventures. And so when I came back home, I suppose I hoped for a man like you. One attractive and loyal and sweet. But what I dreamt... “ she looked away from him, her palm flattening over her chest.

“Maybe I dreamt for finding a great love, and finally running. Maybe I dreamt of Armath becoming an oligarchy, or democracy in some way, and the monarch would be gone. Maybe I stopped dreaming.” She whispered, “I am certain you are the one I could have only hoped for and more,” She lifted her eyes.

*

When she stepped before him, his lips lifted to a small smirk, one of his hands reaching out to graze her waist. She smirked back at him, telling him about a dream, and he leaned in a bit. But she was at war with herself with her hand on his shoulder. He wanted to play, and she wanted to resist.

His eyebrow cocked at the mention of Arah. He wondered if she would let him please her, the way Arah had pleased him. His hand on her hip and he let his fingers press over the thin silk she wore.

“At least meet me halfway,” he teased. “What’s wrong with your past?” He asked her, his other hand moving to her other hip. “You could afford a night of something careless,” he told her, leaning up, pressing a kiss against her neck. “A night of a little bit of happiness,” he kissed again, a bit longer. His fingers gripped her waist harder, and pulled her closer to him, his chin just about her chest as he looked up at her. Her scent was intoxicating to him, “Some strength too.” His hands wrapped around her waist, one hand traveling further south. “I see what I want in you.” He spoke slowly, his lips sucking against her neck.

 

[peritwinkle]

Elyana spoke of her dreams, her childhood, her first encounter with the future King of Armath, and Lyram wanted nothing more then than to fulfill her hopes like his own happiness depended on it. Perhaps it did, he thought then, for what was he meant to do other than serve his people and provide for his family? He knew too little about his wife, but he wished for nothing more than to make her happy.

Was he enough, or were her words merely kind? He offered her a smile from the corners of his lips and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I might not be the bravest knight,” he spoke, “and I can only offer you flowers in the summer, when the weather up North finally grows warmer. I cannot change the politics of Armath, either, but I would be more than willing to take your input into consideration whenever you believe I’m in the wrong.”

The North was the largest division in the Kingdom, but its people were few, and they were mostly old, wise and peaceful. It would be difficult to even force them out of their homes when the time came, for their own safety – many would choose to die instead of leaving their homeland. It was not as potent as the East, and not nearly as financially supported as the South, but he believed he would at the very least be able to withhold his father’s legacy. Her life here would be good.

His lips met her in a gentle kiss, and moved to her chin, to her jaw, to her other cheek. “The easier it gets for me to love you, the more my heart hurts at the thought that I might lose you at the end of all this mess,” he sighed, and pulled back slightly, his palm cupping her cheek. “Or that you will lose me. I won’t fight for myself out there. I’ll fight for you, for my family. I want you to have at least a fraction of the future you dreamt of,” he said, and one finger gently traced over her abdomen.

*

Aiyda’s gaze softened, and she felt her knees grow weak as he held her and pressed his warm, intoxicating kisses to her neck. His touch was gentle, almost innocent, nothing like the men she had faced in the inns of Northcross whenever her father allowed for a night of feasting amongst the other villagers and hunters. Conrad was strong, but he was not a brute; he was playful, but quiet, almost like a lullaby of senses.

Slowly, she let herself fall on his lap, legs on either side of his middle, and she pressed her forehead to his. “Not after today,” she sighed soundlessly. “I can’t... let myself just forget. As much as I want to give in. I feel guilty, Conrad, I feel so guilty...”

She touched his hand, let her fingers trail down to his wrist in a silent request for him to not move any lower. “You make me happy, regardless,” she whispered. “You make me feel like I matter... Like if something happened, you would not think twice about staying by my side. And I suppose that’s a lot coming from a peasant to a Lord.”

There was much more she wished to say than just that. She wanted him to know how it pained her to say such things. How torn she was when alone, thinking, allowing her thoughts to jump to one pair of lips she had kissed to the other. She felt like he would understand, or at the very least tried to, but the expression etched on his face then, the way he held her like his heartbeat depended on it, she did not want to take that from him in favour of spilling her sorrows.

With another soft breath, Aiyda pressed a kiss to his cheek, then leaned around him and down on the bed, leaving enough space for him to claim the other half of the mattress. “I know this isn’t nearly as comfortable as your own,” she teased with a light chuckle. “I’ve never been in a Lord’s room before... Though I’m sure it’s by far more luxurious than this minuscule chamber.”

 

[pointmango]

Elyana smiled softly as his lips pressed to hers, and then moved over her chin, jaw and cheek. Her own hand came to cup his cheek lightly at his words. He feared for her, just as she feared for him. “You’re a good man Lyram.” She whispered.

“I know whatever is coming will be difficult, I cannot tell how so, but I cannot think of another more suited to lead this great territory than you.” She pushed forth another smile, though this one sad. “I think after being with you, I have new dreams. The first making sure one day my husband will know peace when his land is not under so much stress.” Her other hand moved over his fingers on her stomach.

“Come now,” she told him, moving into the bed, “Perhaps something to take your mind off the events of today,” she whispered, oddly enough longing to be close to him.

*

When she lifted onto his lap, her forehead came to his, and his eyes closed, sucking in her scent as his body arched towards her. She had no idea. “Don’t feel guilty.” he whispered. Her hand moving to his prevented his fingers from sliding over her rear and then over her thighs to pull her closer around him.

The pleasure within as she spoke of her happiness, and his loyalty to her. A heat filled within his stomach as her lips came to his cheek. Then she crawled around him and onto the bed. His body turned glancing at the space she left for him. “I suppose I would seem eager if I offered you position in my bed any night you pleased.” He told her, his eyes engulfing her in the dim light of her fire.

He had no desire to add anymore wood to the flame. The cold air might ignite her to give an attempt to warm. “I am used to many luxuries as a lord, sneaking to a woman’s room though…” he trailed off. Instead of moving to the empty space on the mattress he let his body move over hers. His own body straddling her slightly. He felt a sense of dominance over her as he looked down at the fiery redhead, and yet he knew one simple move from her and it could shake his own being. He wondered if she would every try to dominate him the way he wished to do so to her.

“Let’s just say this is a luxury I am not used to,” he whispered over her. His hand moved to hers, and he sat back a bit, letting his lower half rest over hers, he removed his top, and then he took her hands, pressing them against his abdomen as he leaned back over her. “Let me explore you?” He asked into her ear, his lips grazing over her lobe. “All you need is to tell me to stop,” he promised her as his fingers toyed at her hips generously. If he could not have her tonight, he would insist on knowing every inch of her until he could have the rest.

He leaned back again, sitting over her lap slightly, straddling and looking down at her. His hands pressed on her hips, gently grazing up her clothed sides slowly. He wished she was wearing less clothing, but even this touch electrified every nerve in his body.

 

[peritwinkle]

Lyram wanted more than anything to give in to her allure then. He wanted to believe that he was as good as she made him out to be. “At least one of us can still easily see the light,” he teased with a theatrical pout on his face, before letting a bright grin peek through. “I fully support your dreams... As preposterous and absurd they might be,” he laughed.

Without thinking, he allowed her to lead him towards the middle bed, as he pulled off his already untied shirt. “I suppose you don’t need to put in too much effort to do that,” he murmured, and as he came over her, pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “It only takes one look and I already find myself thinking of something entirely different,” he added, and cautiously began tugging at her bodice.

*

As the room grew colder and colder from the dying fire, Aiyda wished to curl herself up in a pair of arms beneath the covers and fall asleep. Her brown gaze followed his movements carefully as he came over her, a gesture she had not expected him to push, but his words seemed eager, almost unbearably convincing. She did wish to enjoy herself for one night, did wish to forget and, for one, not feel guilty for her own tangled feelings.

She let out a soft breath as he pulled back, watching him attentively. He towered over her, his body tense, menacing, but his eyes mellow and inviting. He looked innocent then, notike the wrath-filled Lord she had witnessed at the council, but more like a boy who fought to earn the heart of a woman who played way too hard to catch.

Aiyda sat up then, her lower half still beneath him, and she pressed her lips to his in a fierce but short kiss he had taught her the night before. With his cheeks still cupped in her hands, she broke away, and gave him a dulcet smile from the corners of her lips. “Sleep with me, Conrad,” she whispered against his chin. “Lay down and rest... I assure you I’m nothing you haven’t seen before.”

With that, she took one of his hands, tangled her fingers with his and pulled him back ontop of her, pushing him down with her other hand on his back. She was close enough to allow him to easily kiss her if he wanted to, but crossed one of her legs with his, almost pinning him down by her side.

“There will come a day when I won’t be weighed down by this,” she murmured in his ear. “By then you might not even want me anymore. But now... let me relive the night you held me by the fire. I don’t remember much from then, but I wish I did. Yet the view has stayed just as wonderful,” she teased, poking his bare chest.

 

[pointmango]

When she parted their kiss, inviting him to stay, his eyes took in hers and his head nodded slightly. If only she had known. He did not care that her body might look like others. It was not the matter of her body being that of a woman’s. That being with her would in a way be like the others. With her he had a feeling he would react different, and perhaps so would she. Which is why he obeyed her request to wait, instead of pressing further.

When she pulled him down beside her, his arms wrapped around her slightly, he did let out a soft smile as she poked at him. But he shook his head, “You don’t even understand what you are like.” He muttered quietly. “There is a reason I pine for you.” He huffed. “Do not tell me what I do and do not want Aiyda, please.”

His head turned and he pressed kisses along her jaw and dipped down to her neck before traveling back up by her ear. After kissing her lips, he lay on his side more, letting his own face next to hers as he looked over her. His hand lifted to her waist and his eyes traced the slope of her nose. While traveling he would not be allowed to sleep with her like this, or to kiss her as he pleased.

When the morning came Conrad woke with the light. He nudged her slightly, “I’m going to head off.” He whispered. “Come visit me later.” He smiled sleepily pressing another kiss to her lips.

*

It had been almost a week. They were heading their journey the next morning and Ethon had followed any lead he could on word of magic in the North. He was in the council chambers attempting to explain his findings to Lyram. He sat across from him, a single piece of parchment with notes.

“Really all I gathered was that there are stories of it in almost every village. But no legitimate practice that we know of. If they do know, they weren’t telling me.” Ethon offered.

“There was one story. After the last war there was celebration, obviously, but they thought they defeated them, so they hid the weapons away because they were so powerful. No word on where. All that, ‘hidden in a place difficult and dangerous to get to’ story type of thing,” Ethon explained frowning at his lack of information for Lyram.

He did pause, if he were to tell Lyram of his origin, now would be the time. So Ethon stood up and moved over to the council door. He opened the door, checking no one was listening. He then closed the door and turned its lock. “Lyram… I must tell you something.” He spoke slowly.

“Something that I am still coming to terms with myself. I-” he broke himself off taking a deep breath. Telling Lyram meant he was committing to who he truly was. “Your father finally told me my truth. My mother wasn’t…” he did not truly understand how to explain in a quick manner.

“The mother who raised me in the brothel in Illguard is not my true mother. When I was a baby she stole me away, because the Queen stole her child when she found out someone was plotting to kill it. My true parents are Corban and Amara Kilgour. The King and the Queen of Armath.” He told Lyram.

“Some people in the Kingdom knew. Only the Queen, and who she thought were her trusted servants. One of these servants betrayed her, and told Victor. Your father however, he took pity. He came and found me, and instead of killing me, or holding bounty over my head, he took me in, and well you know the rest.” Ethon gestured.

 

[peritwinkle]

On that day, Lyram was informed that the King’s troops were to arrive at White Hall. The tension in the castle was high, even so early in the morning; as soon as the men settled and were given their instructions, Conrad and Ethon would have to prepare their own soldiers and horses for their leave come next dawn.

The council chamber was colder than usual that day. Light scattered through the tall curtains and fell on the maps and pieces of parchment laid out on the table before him. Ethon, on the other side of the table, went on about his findings regarding the war against the Wild Hunt, and Lyram could not help but wonder if what he had been told were mere lies, or truth those people had held on to for decades. The elders all knew, and yet the terror of its reality was met with the same surprise.

“Hmm,” Lyram contemplated for a moment at the mention of the weapons. It was obvious then that they would not simply toss them into the fire. They had to be kept somewhere safe, in case the enemy returned. “We know the Wild Hunt is not a power of nature,” he began. “Its soldiers are mages who turned too deep into darkness. But mages all the same, who can’t easily be fooled. If they found a way to keep these weapons hidden from them, what makes you think we would be able to find them before they do?”

Perhaps that was the sole reason they were only attacking strategically. They had a route, and likely that route lead them to where those weapons were hidden. “It would be impossible to produce enough weaponry to supply an army in this time frame,” he stated dourly. “Especially considering it’s no simple craftsmanship. Mathys told me there is a certain... rite. Though neither him nor the maester were able to find anything on this.”

In the pause of silence, Lyram lifted his eyes and followed Ethon’s flustered movements, as he checked on the door and paced about the room nervously. He parted his lips to ask, but his words came first, and he straightened his back, watching him, listening.

This time around, it was no story of the Hunt. He spoke of his mother, of his life before Lord Victor brought him to White Hall. He spoke of the Queen, and her plots to defend her first born son. Words mixed up in his head, scenes of their childhood together playing in his mind as he finally came to understand why a stable boy would be treated the same as a Lord... Why a stranger would become their brother, unconditionally.

There was nothing he could say to him then. Lyram stared at the eyes of gold that resembled Queen Amara’s like two droplets of the same pool, wondering how he had been so blind as to overlook it when he saw them dancing together at the welcoming feast. “I am sorry, Ethon,” he muttered then, but stood his ground, steady as a statue. “If I had known...”

So what if he had known? He could not have done anything without raising suspicion. Victor had done well by concealing him. “I suppose the Queen knew who you were. It’s why she came here, didn’t she?” It was not a question. She had suspected it, and her beliefs were proven correct. “Did she ask you to leave us and come... home?”

 

[pointmango]

Ethon waited for Lyram’s words, he stood still before the Lord, but his feets lighter and leaning. If he had known… what? But the answer never came. “Yes the Queen knew. And I had a feeling I suppose, I mean I always suspected something. But when she came, I had a feeling. Both Victor and her confirmed so.” He replied.

Ethon’s jaw tightened at the word home. “She did ask me to join her in Illguard. A place that was once my home.” His gaze met Lyram’s again. “It did not feel right to leave this home. A home I have known for the majority of my life. A home with people I trust.” He told Lyram.

“I know our main objective is still the Wild Hunt. I know our resources are low. And we cannot promise anything other than effort. I think finding the weapons might be worthwhile if we do not expend too many. But stories from the elders is all we have, it does seem like a lost cause.” He sighed, clearly unsure himself.

“Sometimes I think about after the Hunt. If we can defeat them. Which I know is probably foolish, I shouldn’t look past something so clouded, but I cannot help it.” Ethon told Lyram. “What if I survive? What then? Is it even my place to think such thoughts?” He knew he was not explaining himself well to Lyram. But he didn’t dare say the questions he wondered to himself. What of the Kingdom if they all did survive, or some of them anyway? Would he wager to be on the throne? Did he even want to be on the throne? It would not come without trouble, and his northern allies had enough trouble already.

Ethon shook his head a moment, “We should probably go gather Conrad. Speak to the generals when they arrive. They must be close. And then we should prepare for our trip. Perhaps Brask will be a bit more polite as we leave the North.” Ethon offered with a half hearted chuckle.

 

[peritwinkle]

There was much Lyram wished to know then, much he even feared to voice, if someone happened to be eavesdropping on the other side of the door. He supposed the others did not know, for he was the first to be told, and yet the question played on the tip of his tongue. He was humbled. Why had Ethon trusted him but not the others with this knowledge? Why had he not told him sooner?

The lord nodded at his contemplation, and he lowered his head, tapping his fingers nervously against the wood. “These thoughts are not premature,” he said. “We need to have a plan prepared if need be. If we do manage to defeat the Wild Hunt... Then it is your birth right to take the Throne of Armath. And in that case the House of Sterling will support you indefinitely. I would rather die than see that dirt on the throne instead of you.”

It would mean war. He knew that very well, and Ethon did as well, yet Armath would rot beneath the rule of someone like Roddrick. Even with Hector by his side, Lyram he doubted his brother was persuasive enough to change the lifelong ways of the Prince.

At the mention of their guests, Lyram decided it would be best to end the conversation for then. His stomach turned imagining how difficult it would be to keep Southerners within certain boundaries, yet with that very thing he trusted his brother. Conrad was steadfast and took nothing less than obedience and respect when it came to their force. The Northern army respected him, so the King’s men would at the very least fall beneath them in line.

“I will find Conrad,” Lyram nodded and offered Ethon a reassuring smile. “You should go tend to your horses, and maybe give Mathys a speech on how he should not leave your sight while you’re away. He’s too important for us to lose.” He turned and circled around the table, straightening his coat as he looked back to him. “My father was right. Some people are more important than I knew,” he sighed, and patted Ethon’s shoulder. “Your Grace.”


*


Aiyda regretted not having put on a sturdy pair of gloves that morning. Her fingers were pale and cold, so cold she could barely clench them around Krull’s reins. The air was brisk, like breathing in shards of ice, and she felt her chest tighten with every breath. As terrified as she was of leaving White Hall again, she could not help but dream that Eldstead was ever so slightly warmer.

“You like it here, don’t you?” she whispered to Krull. “You’ve always got this thick coat of fur on you. You’re ever the warm one.” The horse huffed and canted its head towards her. Aiyda patted his nose and closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the scent that reminded her of home.

That morning, she had tried to clear her mind of anything having to do with romance and pain. The faintest memory stung, and yet it felt like a guilty pleasure closing her eyes and imagining Ethon by her side, pressing his lips to her forehead and promising he would be there for her; Conrad, holding her in his arms and begging for her to give him a chance at winning her heart. It felt like a sin even thinking of both scenarios, and yet she pined for it like one would pine for water on an arid night.

With the saddle and winter covers on, Aiyda gave Krull a peck on the nose and turned to go back inside, this time around heading towards Ethon’s chambers. A part of her was tempted to remove her riding clothes, for she knew he would deny any invitation, but the other half was willing to, at the very least, try to win him for even an hour that day.

 

[pointmango]

Ethon’s chin lifted hearing Lyram pledge his allegiance to him if they should be successful in their attempts against the Wild Hunt. A scary thought truthfully, to win one war only to wage another on birthright. He prayed their futures wouldn’t hold that much violence.

As Lyram stepped forth, Ethon nodded, he would seek Mathys after the horses, although his chest did clench when Lyram called him ‘your grace’. Such words directed at him left him uncomfortable, but Ethon simply nodded.

Once Lyram was gone Ethon headed from the chambers and down towards the eastern end of White Hall to exit the vicinity. At the doors he pulled on a thicker coat and a pair of thick leather gloves. The day was cold, each day growing colder as the winter months had arrived. A thin layer of snow and ice mixed with the wet dirt beneath his boots as he walked to the stables. With each step he drew a breath he could see in the air before him.

When he moved into the stables he saw Krull. She had been there earlier, preparing her horse. Ethon wondered if they would have shared any banter had their paths crossed. He prepared the other five horses, blankets, saddles and reins. Making sure each horse had the appropriate bags tied about items they would be traveling with.

Having finished with the horses he then headed back inside, grabbing a fresh piece of bread from the kitchen and rounded the corner on the way to his own chambers debating if he should pack any chips or cards to pass the time in the evenings of their travels.

In the chamber hall he saw a particular figure just outside of his room and a small smile toyed on his lips. “I don’t think anyone’s home.” He commented. “Don’t know if you’d want to bother anyway, I heard the greenface that resides there is quite boring.” He offered peeking a smile.

He continued to step towards her, “I could have prepared Krull, you know,” Ethon told her. “I just finished the other horses. “Pretty easy, well, Brask’s horse is a bit of a struggle, only one of the lot I didn’t break, seems to only listen to Brask. Well built horse though.”

*

“No Monty! The storage chambers on the other side!” Conrad shouted across the yard. He was standing with the General of the army sent up by King Corban, most of the men were waiting outside white hall still with carriages and horses. “Any of your supplies that aren’t needed at your immediate disposable can be kept there for the time being.” Conrad spoke.

He wished both his brothers were present for such an occasion. Conrad could handle them for now, but there was too much uncertainty to their deal with this army. “Your tents shall suffice for now. Of course you, and some of your comrades will be housed here, and there is an inn in the village as well. But the rest will have to take tents until we can situate how you will be quartered over the rest of the North.” Conrad told the two men before him.

“I will be away for about a weeks time, hopefully less, but when I return I would like to go over some of your defence tactics and attack strategies General. We will need to adapt them to the layout of the North and White Hall. As well as to what we know about our impending enemies.”