Elenore heard a knock just outside her tent, and her head darted to the side. It was strange for anyone to knock given the fact her residence was cloth, and the knock itself sounded like a knuckle tapping against metal. Only one person knocked like that, and she could perceive him wholly just beyond the tent with her extrasensory jewelry.
“Come in,” Elenore called out.
Durran pushed aside the flap and walked in. He walked in his gray wyvern scale royal-forged armor with his wyvern bone glaive. Ever since the attack, he remained ever vigilant.
“I think I’ve parsed through all the inconsistent reports your agents have been collecting,” Durran said. “The leader of the Unhanded Coalition has been in close contact with the people in Central Vasquer, even Duke Rovostar of Whitefields. And I think I’ve figured out their name, at least. Georgina.”
Elenore raised a brow at once. “That’s one of the player characters in ‘Heroes of Berendar.’”
“It is?” Durran scrunched his face together as he vainly tried to recall that detail.
“It is,” Elenore nodded. “I made a point of remembering the names once I learned of Argrave’s knowledge. Each and all have tremendous potential. Nikoletta, Durran, Ruleo, Dimocles, Boarmask, Ganbaatar, Georgina, Melanie, and Stain.” The princess rose to her feet and stepped around the tent. “Georgina… she was a spellcaster primarily, a rogue secondarily…”
“The memory on you,” Durran stepped closer, shaking his head as though to dismiss his admiration. “She’s heading the Unhanded Coalition. From what I can tell, even if they aren’t officially supported by the lords of Atrus, they’ve been receiving arms, armor, and supplies from them on the down-low. Were I to guess, the various lords of the region want to destabilize things to earn more favorable positions in negotiations.” Durran smiled. “But this coalition struck at you. So I’ll end them.”
Elenore crossed her arms and said waggishly, “Is that right? Can I expect that done by tonight?”
Durran laughed. “You can expect that, but you might be disappointed.” His smile wiped away quickly. “In all seriousness… something needs to be done about them. They’ve been attacking foraging parties, hunters, messengers, and camp followers with great success. They target our vulnerabilities so adroitly it’s uncanny. Even with your men scouting with druidic magic, they avoid capture.”
“Ending them won’t come easily,” she nodded, following his thoughts.
“Maybe,” Durran nodded. “Maybe not. They target vulnerabilities. Let’s give them one,” he suggested, leaning his glaive against his shoulder as he popped his knuckles beneath his gauntlets.
“Should we lay on the ground, show them our bellies?” Elenore waved at him for a continuance, knowing he had more to say.
Durran looked to the flap that marked the tent’s entrance, making no point to lower his volume as he declared, “I think Argrave’s royal guards have a chance to make up for their display of ineptitude. I’ll go with them into a rather ambush-prone location deep in enemy heartlands. When they come to gut us, we’ll turn the tables on them.”
“We should deliberately risk some of our best troops… and you, a vital component by this point… for what, exactly?” Elenore asked with an almost mocking tone.
Durran grabbed his glaive and walked about frustratedly. “An end to this stupid stalemate, this uncertainty. Whether we kill a lot of them or we learn something useful, it doesn’t matter—something changes, and it makes me feel… I don’t know. It makes me feel the good feeling,” he said with a bitter jokiness. “We can’t afford this stagnation. Argrave left to be proactive—I think we should be much the same.”
“Proactive, is it?” Elenore bit at her lip. “I think walking out into the taiga waiting to be ambushed is rather reactive, but then I’ve been told I’m insufferably semantic. Well…” she sighed. “You can’t just walk out into the wilderness like a duckling lost from its mother. There needs to be purpose. I think we can figure out something for you to do, a genuine task… and moreover, I won’t tolerate you alone leading them. Melanie will come with,” she said with finality.
Durran frowned. “That one? The mercenary?”
“We lead an army of mercenaries,” the princess waved her hand as though dismissing the point. “Melanie has fought in more battles than most veterans, yet still she lives. She’s a formidable ally, and one I’ve underutilized considering how much I pay her. Much of that is your fault,” she noted, eyeless sockets fixing on him as though they saw.
Durran stared at her face unflinchingly. “My apologies for being so talented and freely available,” he responded, clearly not sorry. “It’s something of a curse of mine, being so good at what I do. But the way you’re talking… it sounds like you’re in agreement with this idea I had.”
“I am,” Elenore nodded. “Let’s start making some plans for this excursion of yours. I don’t care if Georgina is a player character. We have an undesirable to be weeded out… and a battle to come.”
Even still, as she thought of the notion of sending Durran into such a risky conflict… something about it bothered her, made her stomach uneasy. Was there a detail that she was missing? That would be revealed in the days to come, she supposed.
#####
Argrave led Vasilisa to meet Vera and Hegazar, supposedly a ‘hostage.’ The blonde-haired Magister of the north had a rather big heart, so her idea of taking him hostage was merely standing behind Argrave as they had a conversation with the other two. The dialogue between the two of them unfolded rather smoothly, fortunately for Argrave.
As the two Magisters had been sent to the north to spread word of Gerechtigkeit, they naturally had something denoting Castro’s authority—a peculiar badge. To learn that Castro intended to declare the Order’s support for Argrave was surprise enough, but Vasilisa was doubly shocked when they discussed the reason: namely, Gerechtigkeit and Argrave’s opposition to said calamity.
Vasilisa had already been put off-balance by the news Argrave was the true identity of the man she thought named Silvaden. To hear of this calamity nearly turned her brain to mush. Despite the surprise, she was convinced of as much as was possible with no evidence for the claim beyond Castro’s word. She agreed to two things: to return to the Tower of the Gray Owl to see the proof, and to support Argrave in his endeavors here. It was a tremendous victory.
Once the talk was over, the two Magisters said consolingly to Vasilisa, “Fret not. Argrave… he makes a habit out of fooling Magisters, it would seem. Perhaps we ought to tell you about the circumstances we first engaged with their party…”
Though Argrave was pleased the three of them seemed to be bonding, he was a little unnerved it was under the pretense of his habitual duplicity. Lying was supposed to be a bad thing. He didn’t wish to be remembered as Argrave, the pathological liar. That was a poor reputation to have as a king… and even worse, it might make people finally wise up to his pathological lying.
With the crisis largely averted, Argrave returned to the inn where the four of them were staying with an increased understanding fostered. Argrave felt some burden lifted, even if he would need to wear that damnable wig for another long while to keep up with the persona he’d projected to the others.
“I’ve never needed a drink more than I have now,” Vasilisa declared as the door opened.
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