The halls of Ravenscourt had not seen this much commotion for many winters.
For the past few moons, servants had been working tirelessly to prepare the main hall for the gathering of the lords and knights of the Ravenscourt Dukedom. With Kirken in Lionmane, Jarendrud had taken up the mantle to prepare the castle, and its rooms for its many new guests.
Not that Kirken would have been preparing the rooms anyway, Ethelston had spent long hours imagining punishment for his previous steward. Betrayal to his family and subsequent tyranny he brought on the city demanded it to be severe.
Jarendrud, however, Ethelston had great admiration for. How he managed to perform his roles as a spymaster, chamberlain and stand-in steward was beyond him. His work ethic and efficiency were outstanding, yet Ethelston knew that everyone had their limits. Perhaps once things had settled, he could begin enquiries into getting a replacement steward.
The city was still raw from the Black Knife Syndicate subjugation, but delaying the call of the House Darke vassals could wait no longer. To delay would be seen as weakness, and no matter how much of a mess the city was in, Ethelston could not afford to be seen as weak.
Hedge knights, barons, viscounts and counts had arrived over the past few moons to reiterate their fealty to House Darke, and they were in a loud voice as they scoffed the fantastic food that Ethelston's staff had obtained. Even the Duke, himself, was pleasantly surprised just how sumptuous and succulent the boar meat he tore into his mouth tasted. It was some of the best food he could remember ever having.
The Lord's of the Ravenscourt Dukedom were equally surprised. As they gorged on the food and revelled in the drink, if they had seen chaos outside the walls of the keep, it was undoubtedly forgotten.
"Lord Darke, this meat is simply divine!" one knight called out, causing Ethelston to smile in response.
Despite how well the evening was going, Ethelston still felt a little anxious. All vassal's had answered the call, all but one. That one being the most influential Count in the entire Dukedom. If he decided not to show this night, then others would surely not follow when they would be called to action.
The entire evening and the planned hunt the next morning would be in absolute ruin should this single individual not make an appearance.
High in the upper floor, Aryya skulked in a darkened corner, out of sight for all to see, except the ever alert Duke of Ravenscourt. As she nodded, it gave Ethelston a chance to breathe with a little ease. It appeared the Count, and his entourage had arrived.
This was only the beginning, though. This Count was a notoriously difficult and obstinate man, prone to fits of rage and repeatedly argued with the late Duke Darke. However, Edric had always encouraged Ethelston to study men of this ilk. If even his brittle nature could be moulded appropriately, then Ethelston would have what it takes to lead.
The massive doors of the hall opened causing all within it to whip their heads around to see who would enter.
Before anyone entered, the announcer bellowed "Count Ithelred Renfry, Count of Caernleigh and Earl of Bravensrook, Knight Inquisitor of the realm." Just as the announcer finished, Count Ithelred strode briskly into the hall. His large frame was made even more menacing by his expensive, elaborate red-furred coat housing his golden deer emblem on a black background. As his steps gobbled up the space between him and Ethelston at the head table, his face showed no joy but years of tribulation and war. His grey beard was bushy but well kept; his blue eyes were cold and lifeless.
Ethelston knew him well. Everything he did was for show. Count Ithelred exerted power and influence wherever he went, and he was one of the few chosen by the late Emperor Aex-Igh to hold the title Knight Inquisitor. Knight's of the realm that was honoured for multiple acts of valour and considered equal to Kings in terms of importance to the empire, despite not necessarily holding the land to support that claim.
His delayed entrance was to make sure everyone was watching; his delayed appearance was to show both Ethelston and the other lords that how he arrived would be on his terms.
Ethelston had always admired him as a child. While Edric and Count Ithelred argued incessantly, they also fought together side by side and drank together frequently to retell their tales. As Ethelston's late father once told him, "Count Ithelred is a complete ass, but there's no one I'd rather have protecting mine."
Before reaching the table where Ethelston sat, Ethelston stood up in respect to his new guest. As the two-faced eye to eye, Count Ithelred nodded and thumped his fist on his emblem above his heart before lowering it abruptly.
"Count Ithelred, I welcome you to the halls of Ravenscourt once more, it has been some time since you last graced us with your presence." Ethelston greeted.
There was no smile, instead just a growl from the man who had lived twice as many winters as his liege lord. "I wish to know why I was summoned from the comforts of my castle to this destitute place by a boy?" Count Ithelred commented flippantly.
The room fell silent, awaiting Ethelston's response, but he knew straight away that was a test. "I am no boy Count Ithelred, " Ethelston responded harshly but with respect, "I am your liege lord, and as such, I can summon you from the comforts of your castle whenever I please."
The silence was now even more deafening as Count Ithelred's face seemed to turn to stone. Had Ethelston responded in a slightly harsher tone than he had meant to? Was displaying the hierarchy to the members within the hall the best way forward? This entire meeting was too crucial to screw things up now.
Count Ithelred's face gradually seemed to lighten, behind his beard of silver, his lips seemed to quiver slightly. He was smiling.
"Hah! You've got the same spunk as your father." he smiled, raising his hand across the table which Ethelston eagerly grabbed and held tight.
"Spunk, my lord? Only an old man uses that type of word." Ethelston goaded, causing the room to erupt into laughter and promptly returning to their food and drink.
Ethelston knew he had passed this test, but he also knew that there would be plenty more. "Count Ithelred, I hope you would give me the honour of sitting with me at the high table?"
"The honour is mine, Lord Darke."
Count Ithelred's broad, muscular frame sat to the side of Ethelston, causing memories of Edric sitting in his place. A tinge of sadness gripped his heart as he recalled, seated by his father and listening to tales of war, peace, love and lust that only two admirable friends could do.
"You were but a boy last time we met, I'm not afraid to say it, but I wept for your father." Count Ithelred recalled.
Ethelston found the comment unusual and had caught him by surprise. Count Ithelred was not the type of man to shed a tear for anyone.
"Your father was a gallant and honourable man. He was a great warrior and a dear friend. His loss was felt by all, as was your mother's."
Until now, Ethelston had always felt some resentment toward his father. He was never truly a father to him, and his desire to put the realm continuously ahead of the family had caused him concern. But as memories were starting to stir, perhaps there was something else that he had felt deep inside for Edric.
Pride.
"I thank you, my Lord. It has always been difficult." Ethelston responded.
"Ithelred, call me Ithelred, there's no need to be so formal. I hear that you have travelled far and wide, and even obtained the moniker Manticore Hunter," he replied, taking a bite of boar between sentences.
"That I have. I have had the fortune and misfortune to experience many wonders of this world."
"You speak true young Ethelston."
Ethelston knew he had every right to pull his Count up of the use of first name terms, but he also knew it would serve no purpose but to point out the currently irrelevant hierarchy. As they sat together today, they would simply talk as men.
He watched as a small smile seemed to appear on the Count's face. It seemed his lack of response passed another one of his subtle tests.
"So tell me, Ethelston, why return to take your place as the Duke of Ravenscourt now?" Ithelred asked before downing a glass of wine as if it was water.
It was too soon to mention Loldirr and plans for regaining her throne. Some men in this room would appreciate the suggestion; some may not. While Ravenscourt was in a state of flux, it seemed unnecessary to cause the city and its lands more significant tension. "It was time, Lord Ithelred, " Ethelston lied.
The Count looked at him and narrowed his eyes. He knew Ethelston was lying but was he willing to try and draw out the truth. He grunted, unsatisfied with the response. Ethelston had to get the conversation back on track before the Count would consider him unworthy.
"Your sons, my Lord, " Ethelston quickly and enthusiastically responded, "pray, do tell me, how they fare?"
A smile seemed to spark behind the beard of the illustrious Count. "My youngest, God rest his soul, died at the battle of Havenwater."
Ethelston gulped worrying that the conversation had taken an even bigger turn for the worst. "My condolences."
The Knight Inquisitor laughed like an angry deer before turning his cold eyes on the liege lord. "Do not fret, for there is no greater honour than to die in battle. My other five boys are as headstrong as their father. Causing the Ruvians hell across the continent. So I hear that you are without a squire and a wife?"
Ethelston almost choked as he gulped his glass. The conversation had changed so suddenly that he was not even a bit prepared. It had not taken him long to talk politics. "Umm, no, Lord Ithelred, " Ethelston responded with unease, "I fear that my last squire set high expectations in which I believe few could match."
Ithelred nodded, switching his gaze back to the men of the room. "Sir Whitehill has become a fine Knight, even at such a young age. I hear good reports of him from the front line."
"He fights in the war?" Ethelston asked, a tinge of concern in his voice.
"All our young men fight in this war!" Ithelred responded with a hint of scorn in his voice, "and no wife?" he continued, making sure the conversation could not diverge too far.
Ethelston felt uneasy on the subject; he could feel the conspiring thoughts already building up against him. "My life would not have been well suited for a companion as such."
"Companion? Hah!" laughed the Count. It was evident that his thoughts on marriage were somewhat old fashioned. "Hear that men?" he called out, "we have ourselves the most desired batchelor in all the lands."
A loud cheer echoed throughout the hall as each of the Lords and Knights raised their glasses in celebration. At that moment, Ethelston wished the world would swallow him whole.
"And your thoughts on the Ruvia war and our current Emperor?" Ithelred asked.
The conversation had now quickly turned into a minefield. One wrong word could not only lose the support of his most important ally, but accusations of treason could potentially become rife.
"I'm intrigued by your question, Lord Ithelred," Ethelston responded, tiptoeing around it carefully.
"Do you support the war and our Emperor?"
There was no way that Ethelston could divulge his true feelings on the matter, "Ravenscourt has always supported Isovine, and will continue to act in the best interest of our great Empire."
Ithelred downed another glass of sweet wine, which was instantly filled by one of the Ravenscourt staff. His cold eyes looked directly at Ethelston, impressed with how he managed to answer the question, without actually answering the question.
"My apologies, my Lord Ithelred. My thoughts have been somewhat focused on my own home before worrying about the intricacies of our relationship with Lionmane." Ethelston responded.
Ithelred nodded before turning towards the boar meat once more. "Indeed, a good Lord must get his house in order before looking elsewhere."
Ethelston couldn't tell if the Count had been patronising in his last comment, but until he thought Ravenscourt was ready, there was no way that he could openly denounce the usurper on the throne.
Conversations around the hall seemed to make the unease of their brief silence easier to bear, but Ethelston knew that the topic of the war with Ruvia and support to Lionmane would be a contentious one.
As he took another swig of his glass, the doors of the hall swung wide open. As they creaked angrily, the whole hall looked up to see a pale elf eagerly holding her side, her turquoise dress turning almost black from where her hand sat.
"Erdudvyl?" Ethelston spoke instantly rushing to his feet and sprinting to the door, catching her just as she was to collapse on the floor.
Her eyes were almost devoid of life, the blood through Erdudvyl's abdomen was soaking through her dress and leaving her hand bright red, while her breathes were shallow and rapid. As she looked up into Ethelston's eyes, she smiled, glad to see the man that appeared to make her heart skip a beat. Before long, though, her smile disappeared, and a wave of anger crept onto her face.
"They're coming, Ethelston," she commented, her voice cracked and strained.
"Who's coming?"
"Lionmane, ten thousand men are coming. Ravenscourt is now at war with Lionmane."