A Few Weeks Ago

Sarkis knelt before Lord Dain, his battered and bruised face bent reverentially. He had managed to secure the meeting with the envoy before the departure of the escort party as was requested.

“He asks that my lord come to his chamber at nightfall after the farewell ceremony.”

“A bit last minute.”

Sarkis felt a chill run the length of his body at his master’s displeasure. “He assured me that it would be the best opportunity for the two of you to speak. With the military force occupied regarding final preparations and the majority of the residence within the castle being inebriated the likelihood of your being observed will be minute.”

Lord Dain stared into the fire the warm glow distorting his features.

“Shall I send your assent to the meeting my lord?”

“You may.”

Rising, Sarkis left the room, openly pleased with himself. Glaring at the door, Lord Dain stepped away from the fire.

Lord Dain had been young when she had arrived at the fortress, Lord Till’s mother Lady Ordelia Tress. It was a gifted marriage from his majesty, her family had natural magecraft and were inclined to elemental magics. He wanted the margrave to father children with her to protect the border and to create a deeper tie between them.

Lady Ordelia was exquisite. Despite her family connection to the distant kingdom of Eos she was an image of a beauty born of Eventide. Hair like raven’s wings, eyes quartz gray. Her temperament was even, and she was kind to Lord Halius and Lord Dain despite their mother’s open hostility toward her. She was in many ways the opposite of the margravine and quickly rose in favor with the margrave.

When Lord Till was born the seal was set. Favor had shifted. They would now all lose their place, or they would have had the margravine not found a way to interfere. Five years following the birth of her son, while pregnant with their second child Lady Ordelia was found hanged in her bedchamber. A letter was recovered where she decried her fate as a prisoner of the margrave’s fortress, to birth a second child to the man she so hated was more then she could bear.

Weak with grief and rejection the margrave pulled away from the child that so took after his beautiful second lady. And like a vulture waiting to pick the body clean the margravine stepped in and poisoned the margrave against his child, no pity for his delicate age or personal suffering.

Lord Till grew up with no friends or allies within the fortress of his father. If a servant appeared to be growing close to him, they were dismissed. If a subordinate respected him, they were removed. There was the creature that always accompanied him, but as his nature was one to grow cold and pull away, he treated it as a servant rather than an ally, constantly having it patrolling the castle endlessly, not realizing the futility in such an expansive residence. He did what they said no matter what it was, as if somehow believing it would prove that he was useful, loyal, even at a high cost to himself. It was a play for validation, as if the shear act of him perpetually risking his life, or being willing to, would eventually allow him acceptance.

The assassination should have been easy. The creature had displeased him the night of the incident, so he had not taken it with him as a punishment. He had followed Lord Dain’s instructions about the section of forest and how it was to be scouted. Although Lord Till was a monster in reflex and action there was no way he could have survived an unexpected fall of that nature, and if by some miracle he did the assassin would take advantage of his weakened state and kill him by hand.

But things hadn’t gone to plan. He survived and what was worse is that he changed. He was no longer the follower they were accustomed to, and now… Lord Dain took the book he was holding throwing it into the flames irritably. Now he was beginning to grow autonomy, something that could never be permitted.

The night of the farewell ceremony would cut things close. It would be difficult to assemble additional supplies and manpower.

“At this point I would sell my soul to be rid of that pest.” Lord Dain stood watching the book turn to ash.

Drazhan took a seat, a comfortable chair in the chambers provided to him by the margrave, a glass of golden wine in his long fingers. Gazing into the liquid he recalled his meeting that evening with Lord Till Bastion.

The boy changed significantly in such a short time.

Tilting the glass, he watched the liquid’s fluidity, the alcohol drifted to the lips creating a ridge of gilded beauty ready to spill onto the royal blue rug. At the last moment, Drazhan stopped it from doing so, appreciating the fluid’s submissiveness.

“If all people were like this, things would be pleasant.” The wine was cold as it entered his mouth, the perfume was innately floral, the soft fragrance filled his nose and throat aromatically. “And yet I suppose the unpredictability keeps things fresh.”

A knock rang through the room before the door was opened and Lord Dain Bastion, head of margrave’s troops, entered. Drazhan was gratified by his dark, brooding expression.

“Please my lord, make yourself comfortable.” Playing host Drazhan poured him a glass of golden wine presenting it to the margrave’s most apparent heir.

Lord Dain took the glass as well as the seat offered, seeming to find Drazhan’s open, comfortable appearance a welcome sign. It took a great deal not to snicker at the fool.

“Your servant stated you had something important to relate to me about a subject we both had interest in.”

Lord Dain took a sip of the wine, his expression was controlled, but the emissary could tell he wouldn’t be taking another. It didn’t matter. He was using it as a test.

“Your excellency, I am curious to know what your opinion is of my youngest brother Lord Till.”

The envoy couldn’t help a demure smile. “It is difficult to judge a character on something so simple as a few meetings. If I were to be honest, I am not sure what to think of him.”

Lord Dain looked into his glass and then at the emissary his expression glacial. “Your excellency, forgive me for my directness, but I understand you are not pleased with my brother’s contact with the Centauri Seren and that you told him as much tonight.”

Drazhan wanted to laugh, instead he kept his practiced withdrawn countenance.

“I also understand that he rebuffed your request for him to leave the escort that the Margrave intended to provide your party. I can only believe that your not insisting suggests that your hands are tied.”

Giving a temperate movement of his head in assent. “The Centauri Seren’s will has already been honored, it is not for me as her servant to go against her wishes.”

The emissary found it almost amusing that Lord Dain didn’t seem to catch that he had carefully planted this bait in front of him. It was the flaw of thinking yourself too smart. Lord Halius Bastion was a very useful fool for unwittingly doing as he was bid and stoking his younger brother’s fire.

Lord Dain stood, placing the glass of golden wine on a table, his back to the envoy. “Would you still like to have Lord Till removed from the escort?”

“I am always interested in removing unnecessary inconveniences if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then you agree that he is in the way?” Lord Dain turned to look at the emissary, anticipation flickering in his dark eyes.

“I will not quarrel with your choice of words.”

“Then allow me to say that our goal is one and the same.”

“Oh?” Drazhan took a sip from his glass. “In what way exactly?”

“We both want him out of the way. It is just whether we can agree on how permanent his state of removal should be.”

“I am neither here nor there on its state of permanence, rather I am open to suggestions on the matter.”

“To be blunt with you your excellency, I wish for an absolute in the case.” Lord Dain’s sincerity in the statement was painted in his unfeeling glare.

“Oh?”

“I have plans to see to it on the way to the capital.”

So, he did have an ulterior motive for his chosen route for the escort party. Pity it conflicted with the adjusted timeline.

“And do you intend for me to play a part in this?”

“I merely ask you do not attempt to stop it.”

Drazhan stood, setting down his glass before going to a cabinet within the room. “If I am to permit the events to transpire, then it would be within our interest to see that it is done successfully.” From within the cabinet, he removed a holly wood box inscribed with elven ruins. Carefully he set this on the large table near his own seat looking to Lord Dain with cool gravity.

“I will provide you with what you need to deal with your pest and the instructions on how to utilize it. The only condition is, if you fail in the act, whether through luck, circumstance, or fate, you too must pay the same price as the reward you seek.”

The covetous expression Lord Dain attempted to suppress was almost too delicious. The elf watched in perfect composure as his human counterpart battled within himself.

“If my prey evades me even with these elvish weapons at my disposal, can life be considered worth living?”

Drazhan smiled. What he isn’t aware of is that if he uses this to kill his brother the margrave will be left with but a single heir to his name. Such a pity.