In response to the news that Duke Sumner, not Margrave Reinhardt, led the triumphant army of the south to seize Dirracha, Argrave gathered everyone important for the decision-making despite the late hour. All talked idly around the table waiting for the last arrival: Elenore. Beyond Argrave’s inner circle, there were new arrivals: Leopold Dandalan Jr., eldest grandson of the Relizean leader and commander of most of the forces here, all three Magisters of the Order, and lastly… Melanie.
Argrave regarded the scarred red-haired mercenary curiously as she stood beside Durran. The two talked quietly as they waited for Elenore to return. Apparently the mercenary had asked Elenore to work directly under him, and further to earn a seat in Argrave’s parliament. It seemed that she thought Argrave was a good investment for the future. Important positions in leadership, however, could be as much of a detriment as they were a boon. He didn’t care to be exploited.
I’m being paranoid, Argrave thought, looking around at the others at the table. Yesterday I was worried about a cult following, and now I’m worried about insubordination. Things are going well. He rubbed his tired eyes, but the feeling of impending trouble didn’t dissipate. Then what am I worried about? What am I missing?
The door opened and Elenore entered, finally. Argrave straightened and looked to her. His gray eyes met her own, and she walked towards him with decisive steps. He was proud to see her walk every time he did but was disturbed by how urgently she moved. She sandwiched herself between Argrave and Anneliese. For a moment, her eyes lingered on Melanie and Durran chatting. Perhaps she was having similar thoughts as Argrave was.
“Time to talk,” Argrave said loudly, drawing everyone from their conversation. “Gather around,” he waved his hands, drawing everyone inwards. As the people moved to obey, he pointed to Melanie. “We have someone new with us: our royal auditor, Melanie. She’s here in an advisory capacity. She works under me.”
Durran lightly elbowed her as the red-haired mercenary smiled. Some people gave congratulations despite the empty title—Anneliese, Galamon, all those familiar with her. Elenore was notably quiet.
Some, though, were not so interested in this announcement. Vera could not take her eyes off Elenore and inquired, “Will you explain how the princess recovered her eyesight, Your Majesty?”
“That’s not pertinent,” Argrave shook his head. To step past the issue, he brought up something he knew would shut them up. “But I made a promise. I’ll announce it publicly, but you should know now—Hegazar and Vera will be named Duke and Duchess of Dirracha.”
The two could not help but smile. Argrave let them bask in the glow a bit before continuing, “On that front, there’s some landscape-changing news from the south that we all should hear.” He turned his head to Elenore and nodded, signaling her to begin.
Despite the curious gazes from most not privy to her recovery, Elenore crossed her arms and said, “Duke Rovostar tried to strike directly at the leadership of the southern rebellion in an ambush staged in a surrendered fortress. Duke Enrico of Monticci is missing, likely captured. Margrave Reinhardt suffered a blow to the head but has since recovered. During this recovery time, Duke Sumner split off with a force of his own and pursued the ambushers. After routing them, he carries onwards to Dirracha.”
Nikoletta’s father was captured. Argrave thought that didn’t bode well.
“They routed the loyalists?” Leopold Jr. repeated. Rather unlike his grandfather, he was sizable in stature, middle-aged, and had dignified air to him. With heavy plate armor and a stately white beard, he appeared every part the noble lord. He was Leopold’s successor, but Argrave thought the man was nothing like his father. “How sizable is this force to defeat the loyalists so soundly?”
“About five thousand,” Elenore said. “They’re heavy cavalry, mainly: knights. More worrisome is the large contingent of spellcasters travelling with them for the siege. It’s largely landed nobles who had the most discontentment towards the margrave.” Elenore looked towards Argrave. “However…the Magisters in their service have parted from the army and returned to the Tower of the Gray Owl. Castro pulled through, and they’ve been recalled to vote on an urgent matter,” she said with a slight smile.
“Surprised he can pull through that at his age. Any more details?” Argrave pressed.
Elenore looked back to the assembled. “Tower Master Castro has been calling Magisters back to the tower to initiate a vote. He’s been an advocate of Argrave’s, and I’m told the assembled council is one vote short of declaring complete support for Argrave’s cause.”
“Those old monsters?” Leopold Jr. looked surprised, and stroked his beard as he inquired, “The council of the Order of the Gray Owl has many more reclusive owls than it does social birds. Will there be enough for a full vote?” he vaguely gestured towards the three Magisters with them. Argrave was surprised at his bold talk right before S-rank mages.
“The head of those reclusive owls, Castro, sent us out to the north to persuade the Magisters there to return for the vote—Vasilisa among them,” Hegazar explained calmly. “We may have… been distracted by another matter,” his plain eyes settled on Argrave briefly. “The majority of the northern Magisters live in places so secluded they’re impossible to find, anyway. I think we can win it.”
Leopold Jr. clasped his hands together. “Well… by the gods. The Order, breaking its neutrality,” he said wondrously. “I will admit, Your Majesty… when I was marching into battle without you at our backs, I had some doubts. But now we’ve all of the far north under our banner, the majority of Atrus consolidated, and the Order of the Gray Owl on our side.” He lowered his head. “I apologize for harboring these doubts.”
“We’re still a vote short of the Order’s full support,” Argrave reminded him. “On that note… maybe one of you should return.”
“Hold on a minute,” Vasilisa held her hand out. “If the vote hasn’t been called, how can you deduce that we’re one short?”
“I know with surety who will vote in what way,” Elenore said simply.
“There’s, what, fifty-two Magisters?” Hegazar looked to Vera.
“Fifty-one,” she corrected him. “Did you already forget what we did?”
“Hmm,” Hegazar smiled with a self-content little noise. “Still… based on Elenore’s word… perhaps all three of us should go, make sure the vote can swing in our favor.”
Argrave’s voice was stoic as he asked, “Why?”
“Risk management,” Hegazar said.
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