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A Council at War
Posted: 16 Feb 2006 02:09 PM |
((OOC – what follows is obviously largely unknown to most players and it is extremely unlikely that the happenings here will be discussed openly by any of the participants. Please bear that in mind.))
The silence in the room was almost tangible. The four figures that sat at the table lost in thoughts of their own as they read reports of the happenings in Paws and Midor.
One by one they finished and silently laid the parchments before them, Princess Sairalindë Nénharma waited until all were done before speaking.
“So…” she said softly, “none of you doubt, I am sure, why we are here.”
She looked from one face to the other; Elvalia as usual inscrutable, her expression guarded and carefully concealing whatever thoughts were currently running through her head.
Nariel, motionless, her concern and worry written clearly upon her expression for all to see.
Camthalion…
The mage’s expression darkened as his anger rose to the surface, barely keeping his temper.
“Of course not,” he snapped, “we are here to attempt to salvage whatever we can form the mess the three of you have created.”
The three women watched him, their expressions ranging from shock to barely concealed anger as he continued.
“First you allow the impression to go abroad that at the slightest hint of trouble Ferein cannot act in its own defence, you allow the recruitment of any who would ‘seek to aid’, he snorted. “While they range like headless chickens across Vives… Elves die, our city is destroyed and along with it many of our kin.”
“Even then, when there is an opportunity to deal with the problem, you wait. The gate is sealed allowing the source of the problem to fester and grow until once more we are threatened. And once more we display weakness, allow others to resolve our problems. We listen to the ramblings of some old human fool who thinks himself some kind of prophet.”
“Fortunately for us, and certainly for you, by some stroke of fate or sheer luck they succeed.” He stood and began to pace the chamber, allowing his anger full rein, as his voice grew louder.
“Even then you are not content,” he hissed, “having proved to the world that we cannot take care of ourselves we then offer to take care of another, an enemy. Not just any enemy, however, but one said to be no less than the daughter of the greatest threat this realm is ever likely to face.”
“A wise move indeed, ladies, the Sparrowsong woman has her place of refuge should she wish. What of our own? Where do you suggest we bolt to now that the Hunter has shown his intention, now that Midor wants our blood?”
He stopped in mid stride and turned towards them, his face contorted in rage, “You have doomed us all, each of you, doomed every Elf in Ferein through your lack of thought, your insistence on doing the ‘right’ thing. I hope you are satisfied!”
Each of the women reacted in their own way, each staring at him, Nariel torn between displaying her own anger and attempting to calm him. Elvalia expressionless save for the flash of fire in her eyes, which said more than words would have done. And Sairalindë. There had been talk at times that the relationship between the Princess and the older mage went beyond her merely treating him as a replacement for her dead father, there had even on occasion been rumour of romantic involvement.
If that was the case there was little evidence of it now, the other two women clearly slightly taken aback by the Princess’s cool expression and tone. “Master Camthalion,” she intoned, “be seated. What is done is past and beyond alteration, what we must do now is decide what is to be done from now.”
The mage fumed silently but resumed his seat without reply.
“What you have read before you is not the complete story,” continued the Princess with a glance at Elvalia, “I received a visitor earlier today, a human. The A’Midori woman claiming to have been excommunicated by Vidus and bearing a message from those now calling themselves the Aristi.”
“In essence, her words were much the same as you have already seen written here, the hatred, the chanting… the burnings. But there was one thing she added that had not been mentioned before, she stated quite clearly that many are under the impression that Midor has already declared war.”
None replied, save for Elvalia who had met the woman first and heard the tale in part, the words came as a surprise. Nariel and Camthalion – silent for once – each looked lost for words at the news.
“If that is the case,” continued the Princess softly, “then our meeting here tonight becomes doubly important. How do we react? What are our options?”
“There is no request from Midor, no attempt at talk, no ultimatum. It would appear that no action on our part can avoid it if in fact that is the case.”
Sairalindë fell silent for a few moments before turning to Elvalia, “Can a war with Midor be won?”
The younger Elf looked back at her silently for a few moments then shook her head, “It is doubtful at best,” she said softly, “we would hold the advantage for certain, the terrain around Ferein suits us, our people know it well. Many of them would die should they attempt it but then that is of little consequence to them. Many of our own would die also, and there are far fewer of us. We are by no means as weak as most - including Midor - suspect, but they still outnumber us, it would become a war of attrition. We would lose.”
“So once again our great protector fails us,” sneered Camthalion, “the one who after all placed us all in this position can do nothing to keep us safe. What would you suggest then, child? That we surrender?”
Elvalia’s eyes blazed briefly but nonetheless her voice betrayed no hint of anger, “Perhaps you would do well, Master Camthalion, to recall that it is not just I who follow Him. It might be as well for you to cease your accusations and criticism and actually put some thought to resolving the problem yourself. After all, I doubt if anyone else in the room would argue that you have the greatest intellect here.” From the corner of her eye Elvalia caught sight of Nariel smothering a grin as she continued, “You would also do well to recall that all I did was bring the matter before the Council, nothing else. Unless you wish to accuse me also of murdering the villagers of Paws and inciting Midor’s populace to further my own ends?” As she continued her voice became, if anything, even quieter, “In fact, over recent weeks we have done little else but listen to you accusing us of whatever suits your fancy, I recall little in the way of constructive advice from your direction.”
Camthalion jumped to his feet, his expression livid. “You dare accuse me of not caring?” He shouted. As Elvalia’s eyes followed his movements he stalked around the table towards her. She stood slowly, still maintaining her outwardly calm appearance though it would have been clear to all who knew her from her eyes alone that the mage trod dangerous territory.
“I am merely suggesting that you pause momentarily in your eagerness to attribute guilt to the rest of us and perhaps consider what you yourself might have done over the last year or so,” she said, looking up from her lower height into the mage’s increasingly enraged expression, “for someone who is so vocal on the inaction or ‘misguided’ actions of others I can recall precious little having been achieved by you.”
For a few long moments it seemed that the archmage had been rendered speechless until at last he seemed to come to his senses, “So the wild woman of the woods speaks,” he spat, “perhaps we made a mistake in considering you for this position.”
It was clear now that Elvalia’s own anger was barely held in check, “A position I never asked for as I recall,” she hissed, “but then it would never have come about had not your precious Iretya decided to leave.” The mage looked momentarily taken aback, and Elvalia wondered briefly what flash of insight had made her mention the name at all. “In fact,” she continued, “if it is the wish of the Council I will go now, go back to what I know best, back to being that wild woman of the woods.” She looked at the Princess and Nariel in turn, neither spoke, merely watching the scene unfolding before them in silence as Elvalia once more turned back to him.
“It seems I am here to stay, Master Camthalion,” she said, gesturing towards a nearby statue, “Unless you suggest also that my Lord Aros has also made a mistake?”
Now Camthalion was in truth speechless, whatever else he might do making such an accusation was not a consideration. With a last hate filled look at the young Elf he span and walked back to his seat as Elvalia resumed hers.
“So then, my Lady,” said the Princess at last, “what options do we have?”
“Few, your Highness,” answered Elvalia as she tore her intent gaze from the wizard, “we could do as we always have, watch and wait, though this time I fear that would not serve us well. We can fight, but I believe we all know the probable result of –that- action. Or we coul….”
She broke off at the sound of a knock at the door, light but nevertheless insistent, the Princess called out and the Council watched as the Palace Guard entered, bowed and made for Elvalia.
“There is word from Latonei my Lady,” he said quietly as the four of them looked at each other with shocked, alarmed expressions. It was clear that the same thought had occurred to all – that Midor had moved already.
Elvalia got quickly to her feet and followed the guard outside as the others were left to their thoughts in silence, neither woman feeling the urge to speak with Camthalion who sat glowering, his thoughts known only to himself.
A few minutes later Elvalia returned, her composure regained and her expression once more betraying no clue as to what she had heard or felt. Resuming her seat she outlined the news she had been told and the Council sat in silence, digesting the information.
“With this in mind,” said Elvalia at last, “there is of course another option.”
She continued to explain her thoughts, the others listening in silence as the young Elf spoke softly, assuredly and – when all was said and done – convincingly.
As she concluded, the first to react once more was Camthalion, his anger once more rising to the surface though in truth it had ever been far below it. He stared at Elvalia with an irate, shocked expression on his face. “You would truly do this? Attempt such a thing?”
She looked at him for a few moments, “You wouldn’t?”
“But they are Elves!” He shouted, “How can you even consider it?”
Her head tilted to one side and she smiled slightly, “We are Elves also, Master Camthalion. I once asked someone how I was supposed to protect when I was prevented from defending that which I protected.”
Still clearly angry, the mage simply stared as she continued, “I was told that should I ever find the answer all Elvenkind would bow before my wisdom. I may not have found the answer as he suggested, but I believe I have found one which will usually serve.”
“And what is that?” Hissed Camthalion.
“I will do what is necessary,” she said simply, “as must you; as must we all. For once, perhaps from now on, Ferein must act.”
With Camthalion, as was by now customary, dissenting and leaving irately, the leadership of Ferein took a decision which would surprise most people, of that Elvalia was certain. The Council of Ferein concluded its business and sombrely rose to leave. As Elvalia got to her feet to follow Nariel from the chamber the Princess called after her, “My Lady….” She turned, and bowed, “Your Highness, if you will permit, it grows late and I must speak with my mother.” She turned once more to head towards the door but stopped and turned as the Princess spoke once more.
“Elvalia…”
The young Elf stood silently, waiting for her to continue and then simply smiled as the Princess inclined her head and said, “Thank you.” |
ELVES! |
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