Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

26th of Ash, Year 120

The food arrived half a minute after Konrad did, precisely when he'd asked for it. Three covered plates, each smaller than the last, upon a fine silver tray accompanied by yet another bottle of fine wine and a single glass. He received the arrangement from the Lodge's maid with a polite nod and warm smile; she returned him a disinterested stare and informed him she'd be back come two hours to retrieve the dishes and to please leave them neatly stacked and set beside the chamber door. She didn't wait for his nod to take her leave, though he gave it anyway.

They spent most of the day apart. Stephen had had whatever knightly duties to pursue while Konrad had continued to gather and further mull over the various rumors and whispers and reports of what was going on throughout Brandt. Their work had kept each of them busy enough that they'd only really had time to speak in passing, which was as it should be. That night, however, Konrad had requested the lord take a proper meal and not ferret away his food in the scant moments he had between his various meetings and outings like some sort of animal.

With a light press of his foot against the heavy door behind him, he carefully made his way into Stephen's room, tray balanced and footing precise, while the door lazily swung shut once he'd passed through. "Dinner is served, Lord." He made his way to the personal table he'd prepared complete with a proper chair upholstered in a deep and comfortable satin. Setting the tray down on the nearby vanity, he took the largest of the plates and placed it before Stephen with a quiet clatter. "Broiled steak and graaf-ren drizzled in a reduced mardoff glaze." He removed the cloche as he spoke, the steam swirling up and into the air as he did so. The steak was cut into thin slices and lightly garnished with a dried, pale green herb that smelled something similar to a mix of mint and parsley. The graaf-ren had been boiled and neatly arranged within the space that was not occupied by the meat.

"And to accompany..." he set the mid-sized plate to Stephen's left and removed its cloche as well. "A salad of winter greens and beets dressed in a hazelnut vinaigrette." The third and smallest plate remained where it was upon the tray to be sampled after Stephen had finished with the rest. Instead, Konrad gathered up the wine and glass, setting the latter next to and to the right of the steak.

"And finally, a 99 Vandalburg." He popped the cork with a practiced ease and poured a proper though liberal amount into the waiting glass. The liquid was darkly colored, nearly violet, and carried with it a bold, fruity scent. "To be enjoyed at the end of your meal, of course," Konrad reminded him with a bemused wink. It needed about an hour to breathe, after all. "Enjoy, Lord."

He took a step back, hands folded neatly behind his back, but did not entirely retreat from the table as he usually did. "While you dine, I would inform of you of the current state of Brandt's affairs. Or... what I've discovered thus." Though he usually spoke in Silvain when it was just the two of them, he'd found it exceedingly difficult to reconcile the more technical matters of state with so poetic a tongue as he'd studied. Stephen, no doubt, would have had no issue, but Konrad wasn't practiced enough to manage it without fear he'd misinform. To his credit, he'd at least made several attempts in his own apartment before making the executive decision to forgo the whole affair.

"Brandt as a whole is in a state of controlled chaos, something you've no doubt discovered for yourself by this time." Konrad semi-sighed the words out, not particularly distraught by the fact his homeland was in such disarray. "The Count of Lugen is missing; there are two major rumors swirling about the mill he's either been horrifically devoured by one of the Kindred or has fled the country for fear of his own life. At either rate, the county is currently without leadership." He led with the least likely and continued on to elaborate why this position he listed first. "The Count's distant cousins are expected to arrive in Essen within a fortnight's time to begin deliberations over who will take his place and, if all goes according to schedule, one of them will fill the vacancy shortly after."

He didn't need to explain how Stephen might insert himself into such a lottery, but he'd already made it quite clear it was best not to go about cutting down heirs until there was only one semi-reasonable option left. They were still, after all, fighting a war they could very well lose. Most any casualty was a casualty too many.

"There are at least three- and at most seven- of Lugen's baronies without their barons. Once a new count is appointed, I imagine those seats will fill quickly and fill mostly from whoever the chosen cousin counts among his- or her- friends. A short window of opportunity on your part, Lord, but one I thought worth mentioning." He remained still as he spoke, posture straight and proper as ever, though he did take some pleasure in watching Stephen react to his food.

"Finally- and I say this more so given my information regarding the other counties to be questionable at best- the county of Ravenset is without its countess. There was no need for rumors in this particular case, as I have it on good authority the Lady Olivia Galbrecht has since returned to Essen to weather the Kindred with her kin and under the Lodge's protection." She arrived that morning, in fact, in a discreetly proletarian carriage with barely an entourage at all. "I believe she left behind a retainer, but Ravenset is... well to be quite frank, it is a cesspool of rampant debauchery and delinquency. I wouldn't be surprised if the retainer has already been dragged out of the estate and strung up by his-" He caught himself with a polite smile. "Ah, well. All this to say that until the matter of the Kindred is settled, one way or another, the county of Ravenset will most likely remain without appointed position." He nodded, slowly, double checking there was nothing else to add about the current state of affairs.

"If you wish to fully embrace your role as a Knight Argent, I believe Ravenset to be your most likely goal, at least for now. Her people are notoriously difficult to handle, as you can imagine, and while the Lady Olivia Galbrecht has done very well there, I doubt she will be able to return after having fled for her own life and still wield even a modicum of the power she held over them before." His right eyebrow raised meaningfully. "I'm sure a powerful young knight with his own small retinue of well-behaved Hollows and a history of dispatching Lorien's darkly feathered overlords would be quite an alluring alternative, though I should also remind you gaining such a position would surely sour your relationship with the Galbrecht's heir."

Another nod and he believed Stephen fully briefed. "I advise you, whatever your decision, to tread carefully. Already there are whispers about the Lord Stephen Lange and what his plans might be. Though formless as they are now, they won't remain such for long, of that you can be sure."

Stephen appeared to have a firm grasp of the situation. There was little else for Konrad to add, though he nodded where he felt it appropriate to confirm suspicions. For as long as the Kindred maintained their hold over Lorien, the counties and baronies and, perhaps, even the great lords themselves were at perpetual risk. The traditional roles of blood, status, and wealth were no longer the only metrics by which a suitable candidate might be found. Survival now too was to be taken into consideration exactly as Stephen said, a trait he was supposedly possessed in envious quantity.

Upon his lord's given thanks, Konrad returned a polite nod. "Of course, Lord." While the two other counties of Brandt had their own litany of difficulties, neither Essen nor Branderbren had presented any opportunities, at least not yet. It was good Stephen seemed to be in agreement over the matter of Ravenset, though Konrad couldn't help but consider such a thing with a fair amount of apprehension. While the lord surely would do just fine there, he was cut from a bit more delicate cloth. Iniquity had its place within the courts and high societies of Essen, but he was sure he had little idea how to handle it in such deluge as could be found in Brandt's southernmost county.

Stephen only further sustained such suspicions as he continued. Such a life was one Konrad could only picture in the vaguest of senses. There were novels authored by those hopeful Savants dreaming of circumstances better than their own, but even they were a far cry from the true poverty of the Nameless or, even worse, the poor of the lands outside Lorien. He couldn't really fathom it, but such a fact did little to dull his belief in Stephen's assurance. Surely even the worst of Lorien was still a fair sight better than any other region. It did not, however, fill Konrad with any sense of desire to see the county for himself, not after so glowing a comparison with Stephen's frankly nightmarish picture of his own childhood home.

Grand goals but practical steps, Konrad nodded once again in agreement with Stephen's assessment. The knighthood had never particularly interested him, though there had always been that boyish respect that came from staring up at the massive paragons of Lorien's considerable strength. He knew little of the processes involved nor did he especially care to discover them, but Stephen appeared well enough informed; there seemed little reason for Konrad to familiarize himself with such things even now.

The call for water barely left Stephen's lips before Konrad plucked the pitcher from the bedside table. It was meant, typically, to wash one's face in the stone basin beside it, but the water itself was clean, cool, and entirely potable. He pulled open a drawer and drew out an ornate metal cup, set it behind the mostly finished plate of steak, and poured Stephen a glass. "We tend to drink after the meal, Lord," he offered, an amused curve to his lips. "It aids with digestion, you know." He set the pitcher onto the tray beside the bottle of wine and the final, smallest plate that had yet to reveal its contents.

Stephen's following question, however, quickly wiped the smile from Konrad's face as easily as if his expression had been drawn upon fogged glass. He didn't answer right away. He pursed his lips, lightly furrowed his brow, and took his time to consider how he might explain his hesitancy. "The correct answer would be 'certainly', wouldn't it? But I find the true answer to be something a bit less straight forward." A light sigh escaped him as he settled back into his standing position a few steps away from Stephen's table.

"Your husband to be, the Lord Riven, is exceptional in more ways than those which have captured your heart, Lord," he continued, tone calm but tongue moving a bit slower and more thoughtfully than usual. "I believe such rhetoric as 'come to life' plays upon the Galbrechts' need to keep their people... well, their people." His smile was distracted, though it was clear he was in no state of pure distress.

"For most- clearly not all and especially not now- the Kindred have always been something like... a shadow. It's there from the moment you're born: this untouchable, unknowable, but very present thing. They are our cautionary tales, our nursery rhymes, our vague gods and goddesses. They provide a context to what it is to be Rien, and, up until that first blinding arc of light that rent the sky asunder and revealed the shadows assailable after all, I confess I rarely thought of them at all."

He slowly expelled a breath through his nose. "I am not relieved. I am not... happy about the situation. I realize you believe this a liberation of a kind. A casting off of shackles, maybe. I cannot speak much to what Lord Riven may have told you nor just how bitterly he views Lorien, her people, and her customs, but I'm afraid the vast majority of Rien are as confused as I. That which we've always known- and always assumed to be as inescapable as the air around us- is changed. Wretched, even. I still can barely grasp it let alone support it." His lips turned a wry smile. "But I suppose one need not support a cause to further it."

Konrad shook his head, arms lightly crossed over his chest, gloved hands settled into the crooks of his arms. "I would not say Essen as 'come to life' but rather a new life has come to Essen. Whether or not such a thing proves better or worse, I suppose only time will tell, though only if the Galbrechts and their allies, ourselves included, are to succeed." He spoke the words casually, the very real chance of failure seeming a distant thought. "Lorien is a land steep in conflict, though perhaps of a more refined and far less shattered breed than what you are used to in Silfanore. There has always been strife but true change is rare."

"Perhaps that is what gives me so much pause when you ask whether or not I support this... uprising," he mused, eyes narrowing in consideration. "History would have me believe such a movement doomed, yet the present I find myself in runs contrary to such expectations. You, especially, inspire a sense that something might actually be done, should any of your machinations bear fruit." He chuckled, though his mirth was muted. "A longwinded answer for so short and simple a question, I'm afraid. To give you a more succinct reply? No. I don't believe I do support this rebellion and: no, I gain no relief from it. Quite the opposite, really."

He paused for just a moment. "But more and more, I find myself wondering if I might support you, Lord. Were I to name a singular quality about you, ambition surely would find its way to the forefront of consideration, yet you are not of Lorien. Your foreignness should be offensive, though I've never been quite of the mind to entertain such notions. It's refreshing, maybe. Or simply thrilling in the foolishness of it all, I don't know. At any rate," he added quirking his eyebrows almost playfully but voice sincere. "Whether I support you or not. Whether I support the cause or not. I am Rien, and I take my duties quite seriously, of that you- and I- can be certain."

Konrad made no move to interrupt as he listened with a shallow furrow of his brown. His eyes held a steady stare to Stephen's, neither exceedingly warm nor cold, merely thoughtful. From a young age, he'd learned that words spoken were only words until actions followed behind them. Lorien had always been awash with pretty words and sterling sentiments, all things lacking substance and veracity. He'd learned from the best or those who proclaimed to be such, but he'd never wholly understood the sense of it: to say one thing and mean another. An error in reasoning, perhaps, or a fluke in his own labyrinthine mindscape, but he'd grown in a man who spoke with an elegant frankness and who did exactly and usually only whatever he wanted to do.

For a long time, he'd known what those wants were. They changed daily, shifting upon the ever-changing winds of whim, but he'd followed them as well and as content as he could manage to a great effect. Now, everything was changed. Everything was different. What he wanted now was as uncertain as the rest, but duty, at least, remained constant. That he might be paired with so strange a charge seemed more fate or destiny than chance: that romanticized personification of coincidence so beautifully portrayed in epic after epic.

Stephen claimed to know him or at least to understand in his own way Konrad's heart on the matter. He was inclined to believe it however unlikely it all seemed. Their circumstances were different, worlds apart in most cases, yet there was a sort of indescribable honesty to the manner in which Stephen spoke now. That, and it was difficult to assume a man stuffing his face, slurping down his not yet ready wine, and dirtying his tablecloth in so boorish a manner to capable of anything beyond simple-minded deception. The corners of Konrad's lips twitched in amusement, pursed to keep his reflexive reprimand from interrupting Stephen's thoughts.

The following compliment was met with a softening of his own eyes though he had no other reply to give. Time would only tell whether he might say the same of the lord; he may have been far more open and candid than most of his brothers and sisters among the people of Lorien, but he was still Rien through and through. The very idea that he might be infatuated with a man he'd only just met was absurd enough to bring a dismissive smile to his lips with little effort. Fortunately for the sake of Stephen's pride, the other man seemed to feel no need to press the issue farther than what was becoming his customary declaration of its existence lest either of them somehow forget.

So came his challenge, one Konrad met with a mild raise of his brows but no move to object. Monsters bent upon genocide, parallels drawn between Lorien and Stephan's own home, and the reasonable speculation as to why both foreigners and magic were so reviled within Lorien society were all carefully considered. He nodded slowly, no show of defiance in his quiet stare as Stephen finished the food he'd set out.

"It's a very frightful picture you paint, Lord," he began, crossing over to the table and neatly removing the pair of plates to set them with a muted clatter back upon the tray. He replaced them with the final plate, removing the cloche in a swift movement and meaningfully adjusting Stephen's dessert spoon to indicate which utensil he should use. Upon the plate were five vibrantly covered balled fruits arranged like a fan from left to right with a small ramekin in the center half-filled with a dark, coarse powder. "Salted obst. You're meant to dip each into the powder there and savor the individual flavors starting from the melon on your left."

He took a step back after setting the cloche back onto the tray and returned to the conversation at hand. "A frightful picture," he repeated as if rediscovering his own thoughts. "Were that the irrefutable case, this dark future of Lorien bereft of her people and returned to a distant shadow of the untouched lands she was before, I might find myself in support of such a cause by pure necessity. But I cannot help but question the veracity of such a claim."

"By their very nature, conspiracy follows in the wake of the Kindred as commonly as a child might her mother," he continued on to clarify. "Their motives are to be understood only by their own minds or whatever their equivalent, a fact- or you might say fiction- surely circulated for the same reasons you listed prior: control and seeding doubt. But that's the rub of it, Lord: the seeds have long since sprouted and are far deeper ingrained than a mildly reasonable hypothesis based purely upon speculation has any strength to remove them."

His tone wasn't argumentative. In fact, it was much closer to that clear and simple way he had of explaining things. "The Lords and Ladies of Lorien say a great many things. The Lady Galbrecht is no exception. She would have those who support her believe her cause one worth dying for just as the Lord Revenlow would have those who support him believe quite the opposite. You'll find most Rien- and even those closely associated with them- will tell you precisely what you want to hear and when you want to hear it."

His lips curved into a soft and almost sad smile. "A righteous war to free the people of an otherwise inescapable extinction brought upon them through sheer complacency and blind faith in twisted gods... or the reviled revolt of a rouge county bloated upon despicable magic that has infected both the mind and soul of those once honorable men and women who seek to undermind the true and gods-given right of the king." He let out a gentle sigh and shook his head for what felt like the hundredth time. "Each a narrative, neither one more or less provable than the other. You might see where I and many others like myself may draw pause."

"There is no morality in war, Lord," he continued after a moment of thought. "Nor is there any justice or goodness or rightness in revolution. These things are merely vehicles of change, and change carries with it no ethical imperative. It merely is what it is. Whether the Kindred are monsters or guardians, whether the Lady Galbrecht is earnest in her desire to see Lorien's long since frozen gates opened to the rest of the world or merely understands her position can rise no higher without their borrowed aid, even whether you seek to wield whatever power you can gain here for your benefit for my and my people's... in the end, it's all just words, isn't it?"

For a moment, he looked as though he might collapse into a weary heap right then and there, but his expression shifted, an amused smile spreading across in his face instead. "At least, until it isn't. I suppose, at that point, I'll have to make a decision as to what it is I do, in fact, support. Until then, however," he concluded with a slight rise of his shoulders. "Words remain words, Lord."

It seemed he'd dug down deep enough to graze a nerve. Out of everything they'd discussed thus far since they'd met, Konrad hadn't expected the subject of morality to be quite so volatile. He didn't offer any reply to Stephen's flummoxed rebuttal if it could even have been called such. There was no invitation to share his views, though neither was there warning not to.

There was plenty that could be said, but nothing to be said that would change any minds nor alleviate whatever small mounting aggravation he'd already caused. He instead gave a polite bow and quietly amused, "I'll be sure to let the chef know, Lord" in return for Stephen's thanks. It was best to let the subject rest for the time being. While he didn't comment on his own thoughts regarding the potentially dastardly machinations of the Kindred, his slight frown suggested he agreed there would probably be nothing of substance to discover.

Gathering up the rest of the setting, he neatly stacked everything back onto the tray save for the wine glass and traded his plate and cutlery for the bottle of wine. Another more conservative pour than the last, and he set the bottle back onto the table, just out of comfortable reach of Stephen's hand. "Unless you'd like a bath, I did not prepare one for you otherwise," he smirked back, easily slipping away from the tension as if it'd never been there at all. "As for your 'pantaloons', I've already combed through your wardrobe and have had any needed repairs scheduled with the seamstresses."

Unbuttoning his jacket, he reached into his breast pocket. "However, I did manage to procure one of my father's old journals wherein I first read the tale of Gaol Air Chall." He pulled out an impeccably kept, dark leather bound journal. "If you'd prefer, I could read to you the poem you said your mother quoted to you, though I doubt you'll have any difficulty reading my father's handwriting in your own native tongue. He's quite precise, you know."

Not yet handing over the journal, Konrad re-buttoned his jacket and glanced pointedly at Stephen. "Whatever you decide, know that this book is... 'borrowed' and should, at some point, find its way back into my father's study. Meaning, if you are to take it- as I've offered and have no qualms with doing so- it would neither be yours to keep nor to soil." There was something almost clinical with how he described the terms of the loan, a very clear lack of worry met with just enough sense of decorum to go through the motions. He at last extended the book to Stephen with a soft smile. "I trust you'll take no issue with either."

"I don't doubt it." Konrad's smiled widened into a bemused grin. Stephen's earnest hyperbole was well met, more so for the picture that immediately sprung to mind in Konrad's head involving his father and Stephen vehemently arguing over which of them was more distraught over the fact there was jam stained across the journal's painstakingly transcribed pages. It was close enough even in the realm of fantasy he couldn't say who might win one way or another; curiosity suggested he might try to find out at some point in the very distant future, should the stars align.

With the journal passed over, Konrad took up the tray, nodding his acknowledgment of Stephen's thanks but making no comment on whether or not he was in fact being too kind at all. Before he could pull the door open to set everything down out in the hallway, Stephen called for his attention with a raise of a finger caught out of the corner of his eye; he pivoted in place with a positively intrigued arc of his brow prominently displayed on his angled features. "Yes?"

Yet another proposal met with yet another contemplative curve of Konrad's lips as he listened to all Stephen had to say. There was a whole slew of questions, though there was plenty of said news given as well. The verdict on his potential marriage to the Lord Riven would only be a short wait, so it seemed. If confirmed, the coupling would provide an immediate increase in standing and, by far, the most efficient route to the upper echelons of Rien society. The issue there was it would earn Stephen little regard among the courts, something he was sure to gain should he be raised up through the merit of his actions alone, at least among the other Argents, whose power had grown immeasurably given recent events.

Konrad nodded in confirmation when Stephen wandered into the hypothetical territory of what might come to pass should he and Riven be wed. It was much less a matter of what he was and wasn't willing to do and more so contingent upon the fact the Lodge had assigned him to Stephen and would, very doubtfully, call for him to remain there should Stephen leave for his own barony, duchy, county, or whatever prospects he found himself in possession of. If anything, it was more important he stay with Stephen in that case than any other, though he kept such things to himself finding no reason to voice them.

Stephen had mentioned the Covenant several times already throughout their varied conversations. It was an exclusive organization, one Konrad had been able to find precious little information about, but he knew it had something to do with mages and very, very powerful people. Presumably, they were one and the same, but, again, rumors were mostly unsubstantiated. He wasn't one of the initiated. He had no dominion over magic. So, by right, he had very limited access to the Lodge's information regarding such things, even where his charge was involved. From what he'd managed to put together, the Northern Pact was in some sort of communication with the Covenant, communication that had directly led to Stephen and several other foreign assets being brought into Lorien under guise for purposes known only to a select few among which Konrad was not.

A promotion, however, was fairly cut and dry in terms of response, even if Konrad really had no idea what all it entailed exactly. "Congratulations, Lord," he offered, no surprise in his voice though more so due to ignorance than expectation. "A welcome advantage and one, I presume, rightly earned."

While Stephen continued to reminisce about how far he'd come, Konrad took the opportunity to quickly set the tray at its contents outside, not even quite leaving the room's interior, before the door shut behind him and his full attention was once more upon the lord. "Odd," he echoed, "But acceptable, I hope? The change you hope to bring about to the world can hardly be done from anywhere but the top of society. See that such wondrous grandeur doesn't blind you as it has done to many a man and woman who has walked such similar paths to your own." His tone was pleasant, words of warning softened by a playful lilt to his voice that suggested he had no fear nor worry for Stephen nor his vision.

The mention of magic only further piqued Konrad's interest, a shine in his eyes he neither bothered nor would have been able to hide. "I have expressed exactly that, Lord," he agreed in acknowledgment of that interest Stephen addressed. "And I would be more than grateful to see one of the Covenant's most powerful mages further hone his already considerable craft." Whether or not he himself would be participating in such things, however, was something for Konrad to consider at some later point in time. He still maintained a plethora of reservations regarding the matter; a large part of his hesitance relieved heavily upon his own ignorance. As Stephen put it, perhaps a bit of enlightenment might allay whatever it was that gave him pause- at least long enough to make the foolish decision to ask he be brought into that strange and mysterious fold of those men and women of magic.

"While it's quite considerate of you to consider my time, Lord," he continued, hands folded neatly behind his back. "I would not wish to interrupt or otherwise burdon your already considerable schedule. Whenever you might usually practice is when I would keep you company to stave off so threatening an enemy as ennui. I can scarcely imagine a worse antagonist to progress," he playfully winked.

As Stephan had not requested a bath nor a reading, there was little else for Konrad to do. He eyed Stephen's nails, noticing the way the man scratched at them and figuring there was still plenty of light to wander home even should another hour or so pass, he quickly and quietly rummaged through one of the vanity's drawers until he'd procured a pair of clippers and a coarse piece of sandpaper. "Let's take care of those nails before I take my leave, then."

He gathered up a hand towel, a small basin which he poured some of the water that had been lightly heating in an exquisite kettle placed near- though not in- the hearth, and gestured for Stephen to take a seat on the bed before he knelt down into place before him. He gently set Stephen's fingers to soak in the warm water of the basin then proceeded to trim and file the nails into a more manageable length. As he worked, he raised a question that had been occupying quite a considerable amount of time in his thoughts.

"Who is the Lady Éloise?" The question was given casually, no real weight behind it, but Konrad chose to clarify it a bit more. "You've mentioned her several times as if I might should know her name but... I find myself at a loss with neither familiarity of name nor face."