XXVII. THE ICE IS GETTING THINNER
Aichlan fidgeted with his collar, it had been many a year since he was made to wear formal garb and he was not too fond of it. The choking mandarin collar was at odds with the pseudo monk habit that fit like a cloth sack, it was as if the experience of drowning was captured in an outfit. Clarissa had gone out of her way in having him and the rest of The Order presented to the king in an official manner. He and several others awaited king Laelianus in his war room. With its heavy gild work with a great frescoed dome and several skylights in the vaulted wings, it was a far cry from the darkened chambers and maps upon tables Aichlan had seen in past war rooms. Above them was some no doubt famous artist's interpretation of the Elysium fields and the Eloi frolicking in the rays of the morning sun. The table was oval and made of heavy wood from the ancient forest of Alfheim; a scene from the forest was carved into the legs and around the edges, in the center was a three-foot bonsai tree from the forest.
Portraits of military leaders that had graced the hall and allies of the throne lined the walls. Among them was Alesana of Marquez, a general who led the attack on Sorn when the two nations were at less than friendly terms. Also present were several Aes Sidhean Lords, his father Garrick among them. Overall, the room was quite comfortable, the ticking clock across the room signaled the time wasted within it however. Despite the pleasant atmosphere, he could not push the late night conversation he had two nights’ past with the man from his mind. Why was he concerned that Clarissa traveled with them? Moreover, why did he want so desperately to speak to that coward Lucien? Aichlan knew that anytime that man was involved, plotting was underfoot and someone would be thrown under the proverbial carriage.
“So, as much as I like to sit around looking pretty in a dress, when the hell is this going to get underway?” Maleah reached behind her back in a vain attempt to loosen the lacing, accentuating her bust. “Brother, reach back there and pull that string for me.”
“Sister, please match your manner of dress to your manner of speaking.” Séverin whispered.
“Séverin!” Maleah grabbed at her brother’s hand, which he quickly and repeatedly snatched back. “This shit hurts! Help me get it off!”
Séverin brusquely grabbed her hands and put them in her lap. Maleah ignored her brother’s attempts at decorum and adjusted her corset by tugging ineffectively at the lace embroidery. She was the most surprising of all of Clarissa’s transformations, if not for her voluptuous figure, one could easily forget she was a woman in day to day interactions. Aichlan was still having difficulty recognizing her after seeing her in less than formal attire for so long; it was a bit disorientating to see her in lace and frill dresses, her hair done in an appealing way and maquillage accenting her facial features. Many a lustful gaze tracked her from across the room as more noblemen entered. The particular shade of violet of her dress complimented her complexion and hair color perfectly, the blacks brought out the carnal appeal of her red eyes and lips. It was a wonder Clarissa did not become a fashion designer; it certainly suited her better than religion.
Eth and Donough still refused to wear a shirt, and drew many odd looks from people who knew nothing of Colby-Nau, and found the lack of clothing a sure sign of barbarism. His red tipped dreaded mohawk was strange enough, as dreadlocks were associated with destitution among the lily white and silken haired northerners. Enyo only slightly compromised, wearing a bralette and sari as was fashionable in Eefrit. The ensemble was far more suited for her home climate, and similarly decorated. Aichlan himself did not care what they wore, having lived with and traveled with them for so long, but he knew that those of the rest of the world would. Particularly the court of Marquez with its fascination cum obsession with fashion.
Madden led Taryn into the room by the arm; neither of them looked like the same person. Though larger than the average man, Madden had the look of Aes Sidhean royalty, despite the tight-fitting clothing pressed against his rippling muscles. One could hardly tell he was a lowborn son of a farmer from the hills, unless of course he opened his mouth. Taryn wore the muted colors of the forests, the lace and overlapping embroidery like leaves of a slender tree. More of Clarissa’s touch no doubt. Aichlan had the feeling that this was more a cocktail party of the aristocracy rather than a war council. Nobles and lords soon filtered in along with a stream of butlers and even a minstrel.
None of the men and the few women that made up Duvachellé’s military leaders looked as if they had ever stepped foot on a battlefield. Aichlan drained his third glass of wine, ignoring Órfhlaith’s reproachful stares; grateful she at least was willing to play along with the pageantry. Her showing at the Baron of Ophelia’s manor had done a lot to redeem her in Aichlans eyes, following the disastrous first meeting in Rhode so long ago. Maleah continued to swear and fidget with her corset, Aichlan could not help but to smile and laugh to himself as he noticed all of the other men’s eyes trained on her. Apparently, her brother noticed as well as he prompted her to stop.
“Maleah, stop fiddling!” Séverin snatched at his sister's hands once more. “You’re drawing attention to yourself.”
Maleah slapped at her brother with one hand as she attempted to reach back and undue the lacing with the other. “I’m about to take this shit off.”
“Maleah, stop, people are staring.” Séverin hissed in his native tongue. “Maleah! Knock it off!” He snapped, reaching to grab her hand that still pried at the laces.
Maleah swatted at her brother’s hand. “You knock it off! It fuckin’ hurts! I can’t breath, this stupid thing’s shoving my tits into my throat.” She retorted in Xanavien.
Aichlan was tempted to intervene, as they represented his army, and very poorly at the moment. He was overcome with a sense of apathy as another glass of wine was set before him, and decided to let the siblings work things out on their own. Maleah caught the lascivious stares of a particularly tactless noble, narrowing her eyes in anger she smacked her hand on the table, startling everyone.
“Hey! What the fuck are you looking at?”
Finally, able to remain silent no more, Aichlan cleared his throat to get her attention. “Captain, perhaps if you sit up straightly, that particular garment is meant to improve posture.”
Maleah blushed and reluctantly sat up straight in her chair, somewhat relieved though unwilling to concede that fact. She was sweating and looked quite flushed, and Aichlan wondered if he should not assist her in removing, or at least loosening the garment. Séverin downed a goblet of wine in seconds and motioned for another, clearly embarrassed for both his and his sister’s actions. Aichlan smiled and raised his glass in a silent toast as they both drained their drinks. Maleah subtly began to fidget with the laces once again. The room was full of conversation, though none of which directed at Aichlan and his motley crew of warriors.
“Excuse moi Master Elf…”
Eth looked up at the young noblewoman who addressed him. She smiled nervously as she played with a silk handkerchief, her Aes Sidhean halting and marred by a thick accent. She batted her eyes prettily as she shuffled her feet. Eth raised his eyebrow in confusion as to why the young woman chose to address him, oblivious to her tells. Aichlan groaned and cradled his head in his palm. It was set to be a long afternoon.
“It’s Eth, ain’t no mas’er elf.”
The woman smiled and fluttered a lace fan. “My apologies, Eth.”
“Why’re ye ‘pologizin’ fer?” He demanded. “Wha d’ya want?”
“Nodzing, I’m sorry to ‘ave disturbed you.” The woman replied dejectedly.
The woman retreated embarrassed and slightly hurt, it was obvious she wanted Eth to tell her it was all right, but he shrugged and went back to his conversation with Donough. Aichlan smiled, aware that his second in command had just blown an under the covers encounter with the woman. If he were not spoken for as it were, he would have taken on what Eth failed to seize.
“Where is this Cardinal? We have been sitting here for nearly half an hour.”
It took Aichlan a moment to realize that the Lord was addressing him. Out of all those present, he was the only one who looked remotely like a soldier. Aichlan felt less out of place, though still did not feel like he belonged. The lords and ladies present all had armies which they commanded, though few of them had set foot on a battlefield, at least not in any significant way. The only war Duvachellé had fought was over a hundred and sixty years ago, when Aes Sidhe interceded on Sorn’s behalf. Even now, the border skirmishes were fought by the soldiers, nobles often did not even know they occurred.
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“Clarissa was told of the time, I am sure she has some task that—“
The doors opened again, and Clarissa strode in, two veiled nuns carried her train with Rowena breathlessly running in after her. “Ah, as I said.”
“Sorry we’re late General, we had to do some last minute shopping.”
“There, she was out shopping for supplies.” Aichlan hoped she would get the hint from his tone.
“No, mostly personal,” Clarissa gestured towards a seat, and her attendants bustled over to set her place, “I got gifts though.”
Clarissa took a glass of wine from one of the servants, and sat across from Eth as her two attendants stood sentinel behind her. Though it was a common practice displaying loyalty, dedication and discipline, it always seemed to unnerve Aichlan when they stood silently with those hoods while merrymaking went on around them. There was also the rumor that those veiled nuns were armed, and not nuns but trained assassins. Despite many attempts, asking everyone from Lucien and Emarosa to the Priestess herself, Aichlan was never able to get a straight answer one way or another.
“I should hope you weren’t all waiting for me.”
“No, well yes.” Aichlan slurred, taking another glass of wine. “We were told you’d be arriving with his majesty.”
Clarissa had a look of confusion as she sipped her wine. “Well, that’s the first I’ve heard of it Aichlan. I’ve not seen nor heard from the man since my arrival, can’t really say that I eagerly await this meeting either.”
The massive doors swung open again, this time with Siegrun and a trumpets blast. “Presenting his Majesty King Laelianus Eluveitie.”
Everyone stood as Siegrun bowed, Laelianus strode purposefully towards the table, his cape trailed behind him and his decorative armor gleamed in the wintry sunlight that filled the room. “Please, be seated, and forgive my tardiness. Orson.”
A bent little man hurried towards the table carrying armfuls of charts and papers. Laelianus looked to Clarissa, his look of shock quickly replaced by a manufactured smile.
“Clarissa, I heard you were here, but couldn’t be sure. Congratulations on your new standing in The Church.”
“And congratulations to you as well. It’s a shame that our former king took such a turn for the worse, I was certain I was making progress in his condition.”
Laelianus chuckled and turned a winning smile to the other guests. “Well, he was old and feeble Clarissa; no one lives forever after all.”
As Laelianus hastily ended his conversation with the Cardinal, Aichlan could not help but sense the same uncomfortable feelings he had seen the night prior. The king was fearful of something, and judging by Clarissa’s icy interaction with him, she knew what it was. The Cardinal had also been acting oddly; she had not shut up about reuniting with Laelianus since they entered the kingdom, only for her to suddenly change her tune after a meeting with some of her retinue and that young archer girl of all people. A meeting, if he recalled, Lucien was conspicuously absent from. There were rumors that Clarissa was involved in some scandal with the former duke, could that be what this was about?
“I won’t bore you with courtly niceties and idle nonsense. Count Duplantier has assembled an army to reclaim the cities to the east and along the Sorn border.”
“Pardon my interruption your Majesty, but what of the western expanse?” A woman spoke up.
Several other Lords and Ladies shared her sentiments, breaking off into a murmur of sidebars amongst those most affected. Eth and the elves could only scratch their heads at the foreign tongue going on around them, which was just as well, many of the nobility present would just as soon pretend they were not even there. After spending so much time with the Colby-Nau, Aichlan could see how they may offend their sensibilities, but if only they were to give them a chance, he was certain others could see they were just like everyone else. Mostly.
“Brother Aichlan,”
“It’s General your Majesty.” Aichlan shot back, trying to ignore the slight.
“Yes, yes,” Laelianus waved his hands in a ‘hurry up’ gesture. “Were you not just in the western half of our beautiful kingdom?”
“Aye and aside from Ophelia, I can tell you there is naught to be salvaged. A lone Morlock and several giants took the Port of Romance. He drained the townsfolk of blood, turning them into undead slaves. We were forced to raze the city.”
“Raze? You had no right!” A noble shot up, his face purple with rage, he bore the look of a man who knew not the meaning of labor. “That is an act of war you Aes Sidhean Mongrel! That was my land!”
Aichlan idly traced the rim of his empty wine glass with a finger. He knew this was coming sooner or later, but had hoped to be eased into the inevitable a bit more subtly.
“I had every right; those people were lost and threatened my own. Even the Baron of Ophelia was harassed by the evil spilling from that city.” Aichlan replied calmly, restraining himself in the face of the man’s insults. “Would you rather they remain to turn more to the Dusk?”
“Ophelia still stands, you say?” An elderly gentleman said as he stroked his mustache. “That land is centrally located, It might be a good staging ground to reclaim Sienna and the other ports along the coast.”
Aichlan nodded. “I had the same thoughts, The Barony was sound and well supplied when last we left, though in desperate need of laborers.”
“Do not think to change the subject so easily!” The duke of Port Romance pounded his fist on the table. “You have committed criminal acts in this kingdom!”
Aichlan turned his stony gaze towards Laelianus. “Your majesty, I was under the impression this matter was closed.”
Laelianus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “Yes, yes, Leon, it is a tragedy what happened to that great city, but a necessary measure to prevent the spread of those dusk borne creatures. We can discuss recompense at a later date.”
The duke slumped as color drained from his powdered face. “But your Majesty…”
“Your King has spoken,” Aichlan said dryly, “now onto the matter of Osric and his host-”
“Impudent fool!” Leon puffed himself up as best his newfound backbone could handle and pointed a trembling finger at Aichlan. “I demand satisfaction!”
“You can demand all you want, it doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned that city, its fate is—“
The Lord took off his glove and flung it at Aichlan’s face. Aichlan swatted the glove and rose, his hand on his sword as Eth, Enyo and Ashe were on the table ready to defend his honor. Aichlan was surprised to see Maleah had a chair hoisted ready to be thrown, though whether she was coming to his defense or just wanted a fight was unclear. Ashe’s reaction was expected, and Eth was always willing to join a fight; his delinquent Captain and Enyo were different stories all together. Laelianus laughed heartily, astounding all not involved. The offending Duke placed his quivering hand on his sword hilt as he looked for some sort of support, gaining none.
“This is how you respond to duels in Aes Sidhe? By calling your attack dogs to fight for you?” The noble taunted shakily, still entreating his peers with pitiable glances.
“Mind your tongue Léon,” Laelianus said mirthfully. “Grandmaster Aichlan was a reknowned swordsman as I recall. I will intervene on your behalf…”
“No! Er, your Majesty.” The man swallowed, hoping he had not made two enemies in one day. “That, that was my city, and a lifeline for trade! He had no right to burn it! Epecially as a foreigner, it could be seen as an act of war!”
Laelianus raised his eyebrow as he tapped his ring against the table, a silent and none to subtle challenge in his eyes. the cowardly lord had called the king's judgement into question. Razing a city could very well be construed as an act of war. By glossing over such a fact, the tone had been set that it, decorum demanded they leave the matter be. At least publicly.
"That, that is if not for your ties to The Order and our Lady..." Duke Leon shrank as he mopped the sweat from his brow, his eyes darting to faces hidden behind hastily drawn fans or raised goblets. "And your graces magnanimity."
“If it was your city, why did you leave your citizens to die there?” Aichlan pressed, still bristling at the mans audacity to issue a challenge and insult his companions. “Moreover, these dogs are dear friends and kin in arms. You have now insulted me twice, how wilt thou redress?” Aichlan said, briefly lapsing into his mother tongue.
“León, sit. We haven’t time for this. Aichlan, get your men off my table and have that woman put down my chair,” Laelianus spat, his humor having passed as he pointed to Maleah. “As I recall each piece in this room holds some historical significance and I’ll not have it smashed in some barroom brawl.”
“Maleah put down the chair.” Aichlan looked to his Colby-Nau officers still poised for attack. “And get off the table.” he conceded in Aes Sidhean.
Aichlan waited for the man to take his seat before taking his again. Maleah swore again in Xanavien and adjusted her corset as she glared at the noble, who sat sweating as he stared at nothing. Her brother seemed to take note of all the comments and looks sent her way, Aichlan hoped the issue wouldn’t arise again, but remained in a state of readiness should more hostilities come.
“Well, now that that is out of the way.” Laelianus leaned forward on the table as his manservant brought him a goblet of wine. “Our western half is gone, and I know not how to reclaim it at this time, a conundrum that has weighed heavily on my mind for some time now. I’ve gone over various strategies, but none seem plausible. News of Ophelia is heartening, and I hope that an agreement can be made to at least reinforce that region with laborers and soldiers. Any attempt to reclaim any of our coasts will result in lost soldiers, leaving the capitol and the border of Sorn likely candidates to be overtaken. I stand firm that this could have been avoided had we not abandoned them to begin with, but that is neither here nor there.”
“So what will we do, your majesty?” A Fat noble spoke up, a count from Ciel Errant along the Sorn border if Aichlan recalled. “The west seems to be of least concern, but the border of Sorn must be secured if we are to protect the capitol.”
Laelianus took a sip of wine. “I have joined an alliance forming in Briternica. As we speak Aes Sidhe and Rhodarcium rage war with Xanavene, her capitol besieged.”