When Great Trees Fall

[Konrad Schreiber]

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."

[Taelian Edevane]

Earlier in the day, Stephan had spent some time with Lord von Graditz, learning of Hollows and how they might be tamed. He had received his very own: a simple beast he called Varek, who he had learned to direct with the most rudimentary of commands, and even then, imperfectly. While his progress was certainly above-par as compared to others, he did worry for the limited nature of his window of opportunity. It was why he had urged Konrad to investigate his options with all due haste, and why he had dissected some of his time to meet the young man for dinner.

As expected, Mr. Schreiber did not disappoint. He came and the food came with him, and it looked and smelled delicious, as well as suitable to the Knight's diet, which was not all too selective save for his focus on lean meats and other healthy addendums. Even the salad appeared delectable, topped with a good-smelling vinaigrette. He'd only eaten this way a few times, despite being a wealthy man in Atinaw, and holding considerable position in Loregard. Stephan the ruse was a man born into wealth and comfortable meals, a warm hearth and a large estate, but Taelian -- the man he really was -- had been raised an urchin, forced to subsist on vermin and leftovers. For the longest time, eating like this actually made him feel... wrong, in a way. Like by doing so, he was depriving others of the same chance. Perhaps he was.

But still - for the moment - it smelled nice, looked well made, and complimented his good company. The Argent spoke a silent 'thank you' before settling into his chair and hunching slightly over to begin digging in. It had been a long day, and he was hungry.

Upon his first few bites, it was clear just how much he enjoyed the meal. "This is wonderful," he simply said, in affirmation. Again, he spoke his appreciation, this time with a smile warmer than the last. Afterwards, it did not take Konrad long to delve into the political affairs surrounding them. He had investigated to an extent the Argent found sufficient, which was pleasing to him: more, he offered his own personal expectations around the areas in question, and how quickly their vacancies might be filled. Truthfully, it was far more feasible that he might become a Baron -- or even nothing at all -- than acquiring the reins of a county. There were only four in Brandt if he could recall, left to the most esteemed of Celebrant; their rising stars, or old families.

Yet, Konrad did entertain his notion. Before him, he set out two options, as half of the Duchy's realms had been left with some sort of vacancy. Lugen's Count had disappeared. Given what he had learned about the Kindred and their recent attacks on rogue Nobility, Stephan could only imagine he had been killed, though this was substantiated by nothing more than an assumption. Rightly, his cousins would vie for his position -- but the mage was uncertain of how far they might get, or how long they might live.

"From what it appears like, to me, it is difficult for most Nobility to survive if exposed to the Kindred. They are capable of becoming invisible, invulnerable, changing their shape and shifting through walls -- at any given night, the Lord of any realm might find themselves rend apart by sharp beaks. I would not be surprised if those vacancies were filled, only to be made open again."

He took another few bites, scarfing down his food before - perhaps rudely - speaking almost midway through swallowing. "The difficulty," he swallowed, "also lies in the fact that the Dread-Arbiter and many higher-ranking Knights swore vows to Von Rabe, vows they have made sure to keep. The Knights, who have a greater opportunity for survival against a Kindred stalking their bedside, have to a large extent gone rogue -- while the Celebrant have either been culled for religious affiliation by our mutual liege, or are being ambushed and murdered by the Kindred when caught alone."

What was left, he had noticed, was a gaping vacuum of power. He'd heard about the aftermath already, even now, in the early stages of what was surely to fully materialize before long. Whispers were in the court: banditry, roving killers, Knights directing Hollows to attack the settlements they once guarded. The standing bulwark was, of course, the Lodge. By extension, the Covenant. It was fortunate for House Galbrecht that some of the world's greatest mages were on their side, or they would already have ceased to be.

This was what they got, he thought to himself, for leaving the problem to fester for so long. For letting the Kindred entangle themselves so deeply into every aspect of society, to the point of melding with the military and nobility alike. He could not blame the Galbrecht's for this, though, only the crown. A crown which still - even now - kept themselves bound to Von Rabe.

Whatever the case, he silenced his thoughts for a moment, and continued to listen. Konrad went on to speak about Ravenset, the island's southernmost county. Its ruler - Olivia Galbrecht - had retreated to avoid a similar fate to Lugen's likely departed ruler, though in doing so she left an already disturbed realm to its own devices, creating the potential for unbelievable strife within their realm. He knew little of Ravenset save for its infamous gangs, and that it was a populous realm. The terror that could be inflicted on the average citizenry there was heinous enough, but it had the probability of migrating northward as well. In fact, the Knight wasn't so convinced that the Kindred or their operatives would not attempt to stoke this disarray further themselves.

It was an opportunity, indeed. Anyone who tried to fill that vacancy would almost certainly be murdered and quickly. Few would likely even try. The Galbrecht's best hope was to send a military contingent to restore order -- but that meant making themselves vulnerable to assault.

He swallowed again, his eyes affixed to his plate. He was deep in thought.

"I am certain House Galbrecht does not wish to lose part of its demesne," he said. "Yet -- they clearly do not believe themselves able to hold the south. It is better that one of their subjects claims that land and restores order, than losing it to anarchy, or even to invasion from the King. Ravenset is not so far from Breven that it might be spared an incursion. I think... this is actually a very plausible opportunity, and I thank you for informing me of it," Stephan said, nodding towards the other man. He began to feast on the more verdant portion of his meal, stuffing half a salad leaf into his mouth and biting down.

"You know, Mr. Schreiber, I am from a place called the Pyred Bedlam in the city of Silfanore. It is a mess of delinquency as well, and grime, and illness. It's probably the most dilapidated, filthy, crime-ridden place on all of Atharen. If Ravenset is anything like it, it will suit me well. I think that I am more than fit to command it back to order," he nodded. "First, I need to actually be Knighted. I think the mutagens that come with the position will be good for helping me to deal with the Kindred. And -- I'll need to be able to command Hollows if I am to be capable of restoring order to Verden. Water?"

He looked to his table, noticing a lack of less alcoholic refreshments. For a moment, he almost seemed disappointed, though he quickly let that expression subside. "Are you in support of this rebellion?" he calmly asked. "I've heard of how... dystopic life was when the people here had to worry - always - of one of those birds implanting horrors and other seeds into their mind, let alone the repression, and risk of punishment. They say Essen has come to life since the Aether Cannon fired. Are you relieved, Mr. Schreiber?"

[Konrad Schreiber]

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."

[Taelian Edevane]

Listening to Konrad's explanations of his own feelings on the war, and the Kindred, and the uprising... brought an uncomfortable level of context to Stephan, who began -- quite rapidly -- to realize that what they dealt with here was not the same sort of universal, damning repression as with the Court of Dusk in Sil-Elaine. It was perhaps no people's uprising, but yet another pitting of power against power. He took a sip of his water, freshly poured from the pitcher, and continued to listen as the man offered an anecdotal, personal, yet meaningful description of his own perceptions, and even what he imagined others were feeling around him. Stephan's eyes affixed to him as he did so, and before long it was clear that the Argent found himself conflicted. The narrative he'd been fed was not the only one around, not even in so small a bubble as Essen.

His face appeared to tense, and he sighed. He found himself... wanting to convince the other man, if only to show that he could, and that the cause he had ascribed to could be debated and enforced. He showed no anger or disappointment in Konrad -- for there was none -- but instead, a visible concern in his gaze as the man parted with the final details of his own inhibitions.

Before the Argent chose to speak, however, and after finally consuming the remainder of his steak, the young Savant spoke of his loyalties. Earlier, Stephan had asked him to be wholly loyal to him and to serve his interests. In that moment he had danced around any commitment and effectively refused, yet now it was clear that Konrad had more faith in Stephan - and perhaps more pride in working beside him - than he had in the ideals of the Lodge. Perhaps it was no undying loyalty, but it meant something. He wondered how he'd managed to inspire such a thing, considering half of what he'd shown him had been eccentricity. Still, he grinned, his heart warmed by the other man's words, quite genuinely. Stephan offered him a small but meaningful smile.

"Well, Mr. Schreiber... your counsel is the one that matters most to me. And please, don't refuse my flattery: at least to me, it holds substance. Whether this pleases you or not, I -- let me try to explain," he began. "I came here willingly, but reluctantly. I left a home I was coming to love -- where I held great prospects -- to reside here based only on a request from Lady Lyonesse, and a heartening few stories on the monumental nature of this... revolution." Though the label felt questionable now, based on everything his valet had described. "I came here alone, without my own connection to this uprising or cause, and without any desire to make one. But: my thoughts evolve as we speak with one another, in the privacy of this place. You are a friend to me, dathúil. And, whether you believe it or not, you are a kindred spirit. Your love of the same stories as I, your honesty, your curious interest; even your skepticism... I relate. If I can use you as any sort of window to view the Rien people with, then: I can place my purpose here."

He looked down at his meal, and bit his lower lip. He did not want to leave it at that, so irreverent and naïve. There was more he had come to discover, he thought, and he would share his observations with the other man. "This place is one that values knowledge -- and as you said, its people are dutiful, diligent. Lorien, from what I have seen, shares prosperity and spares the common man a great deal of suffering. Rather than clamoring to the fields or dying for avaricious Lords, the people here learn, and perhaps in doing so uncover their passions. You said that your mother is an athlete, your father a writer... these professions are maddeningly rare in the outside world. Almost everyone is bound instead to their agrarian lives, ignorant, ill."

He took a drink from his wine. A bit early, he knew, but he wanted some -- and it tasted fine. Good, even. Stephan rubbed his lips with his tablecloth, and coughed. He'd drank too fast, another reminder of his poor etiquette.

"I enjoy you, dathúil," he said. "In fact, I fancy you. Though I'm certain it was as clear unspoken as it is now."

And, oddly, as quickly as he brought about those few, forward words -- he dropped them. Perhaps out of fear for yet another, impending rejection. He was perhaps at his limit when it came to those.

"Now -- given all of that, I want to challenge some of the things you have told me, for while I am no expert in living as a Rien man -- being that I have not been here so long as a week -- I know what is at stake in this war. The Kindred have only grown in their hegemonic power over time, embedding themselves into every aspect of your society. What little Regis has told me made me... aghast. It is worrisome, dathúil. These spirits have had a long and hateful past with our kind. We have every reason to believe that they intend to wipe out the population of this Kingdom and reclaim it for their own. It is an assertion not worth testing: they must be eradicated before they are allowed to acquire any more power."

The man frowned, shaking his head. "It is the same as them," he vaguely referred to some other terror. "The Dranoch -- they merged our military with their own order, our aristocracy, our clergy, our education... and now we are their fodder; their slaves. The prosperity you have now lies upon a strand. Once broken, these things will no longer be shadows, but beaks and knives. Even though I have no relation to any of you, I do not wish for that reality to come. So, I have chosen to stay."

He drank some more, before scarfing down the remainder of his salad. He truly did eat with no class.

"Whether that makes me an honorable man or an opportunistic one, my fascination with power is in what it can offer me: not power alone, but a valley through which I can do right -- or what I believe to be right -- by others. I believe this uprising to be in the spirit of good, and whatever I derive from it, I hope to direct it towards that same spirit." He nodded, as self-righteously as he could. "Lady Galbrecht has unique views; she labels them 'egalitarian', though they break from tradition. I empathize with them. I do not believe the Nameless as an underclass should exist, or that all foreigners should be placed there. I don't think Lorien should deride all magic in the way that it does, or that it should operate with such disgust for the outside. But I believe these fears were given to this country by the Kindred, for outsiders and magical power are things that threaten them. I think this war is one for the future of this country, and I like the one that is presented, though I know it is certain not to match perfectly with what is actually achieved."

[Konrad Schreiber]

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."

[Taelian Edevane]

Rather than purely a skeptic, Konrad was also a cynic. His plentiful doubts and the way he revealed them spoke of a deep mistrust of power, and Stephan wondered for a moment where that might have come from. In truth, it was likely that any man or woman born and raised in such a land would find themselves wracked with such doubt. Power in this land was tethered to deception. Though the Kindred had perhaps made it that way, it had been the case for hundreds of years. Doubt came to his own mind. He did not know the old history of Lorien well, but surely there was some time where their civilization existed without the underlying power of the ravens. He wondered what it was like, then -- if it was better. Perhaps precedent could speak to the time they dwelt in now.

The Argent dipped the first fruit, among the display of his desserts, into the powder before taking it into his mouth and biting. He sounded his approval in the form of a mumble, though he quieted himself as he allowed Konrad to speak the rest of his many, reasonable doubts.

He found himself wishing he knew the history of even the war, better than he did. All he had read on - or had been told - was that House Revenlow nearly self-destructed around a century ago, and that the civil war began as a dispute between claimants. He was not sure if even that information was correct, though it appeared objective. The question nevertheless came: why would that war still be ongoing? There were no present, more legitimate claimants to the throne. Lucien appeared competent, and his line was indisputed: Prince Franz was his only male heir. Stephan had even been told that House Revenlow had taken to culling all second and third sons.

His thoughts were interrupted as Konrad came to the crux of his argument. There was no morality in war, he claimed, confidently as any man. A part of the Knight found himself feeling somewhat diminished by those words, or perhaps that the other man was woefully ignorant. Perhaps he did not believe there to be a morality in this war, but to make such a sweeping claim did not speak well to the nuance of his argument. When finally he resolved to finish speaking - nonetheless after questioning Stephan's own motives, or at least their ends - the Argent stared at him with a somewhat befuddled gaze.

The man sighed.

"I among all men should understand your view. In my own war at home, I was taken against my will and forced to suffer and slave in my youth by the same power that thought to 'liberate' me. And yet... now, I see that Aldrin has in many ways changed. He, my Lord, no longer partakes in such evil. He tries to do right. And even if he didn't--"

He shook his head, his expression visibly frustrated. It was clear that the Savant had struck a sour note. "I would still fail to see how there could be no right or wrong, no good and evil, in my war at home. One side wishes to be free, to be able to choose its own destiny and to restore its beloved land. The other wishes to extort and exploit as much as it physically can, including from the blood and flesh of its own subjects. Perhaps between men, there can be no evil and good in a war, but there are monsters in our world, Konrad. I would advise you to remember that the Kindred bring about no form of good. Control and subversion, that is all. They are not truly even Gods -- merely spirits, filled with rage and age old enmity. Even if the Lady Galbrecht's intentions are worth your doubt, the Kindred are objectively a detriment to your country and culture. We can judge on the intentions of these players once the vermin are eradicated. Until then, to me, this war is as right as any could be."

Stephan's face was colored a flustered, darker shade, the blood rushing to his head as his dogma had been questioned. It was perhaps then that Konrad might realize how suitable he was as a Knight, so willing to vow loyalty to and believe in the 'righteous' cause of his Lord. He himself acknowledged that his past, being born into such a corruptive land with such hateful Lords, had made him so keen to the ideas of liberation and change. And how, he wondered, could such a thing ever be wrong? To seek freedom, in his mind, was inherently moral. It was as if Konrad held some audacity to disagree.

The man ate the remainder of the fruit. As frustrated as he might have become, he was a large and athletic man, and the earlier meal had not been enough to fulfill him. By the time he had gotten to the end of his dessert, he could call himself mostly sated, though with a thirsty penchant for his wine. He brought it back to his lips and drank quickly, rolling his shoulders shortly afterwards and cracking his neck. "The meal was lovely," he said. "Thank you, again, my friend. I must say: regardless of my opposition to some of your words, I appreciate your openness and candor. I feel no... anger towards you for your perspectives. Perhaps I will even learn hard truths from your doubts. I will be sure to seek substantiation for the claim that the Kindred do wish to eradicate you all -- though somehow, I doubt such an assertion does bear concrete evidence."

The man rose from his seat, taking a last swig of the wine before setting the bottle down onto the table. It was near-empty, and Stephan was a lightweight. He was certain he would feel some impact very soon.

"Is this where we part ways for the night?" he asked. "Or do you have any further duties to tend to, here? Evening bath, examination of the state of my pantaloons... perhaps a poetry reading?" Stephan winked. That familiar strangeness had overcome him yet again. Konrad would perhaps come to realize that it was his nerves.

[Konrad Schreiber]

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."

[Taelian Edevane]

While it might have been surprising that Konrad did not respond to his many words on the subject of morality and war, the truth was, Stephan did not expect him to. He knew that as genuine as the younger man appeared to be in his expressions, he had no intention or need to draw the ire of his charge, and often avoided doing so. Rather than aggressively rebuking him, he always opted to take the subtle and collected route, speaking to a strength of his own -- an emotional groundedness, one Stephan did not quite share. He noted many of the people of Lorien to be so collected, even those outside of the Nobility. They were known for their haughtiness and their distant demeanors, and he supposed such tendencies were included.

Still, to some extent, Konrad's demeanor -- almost above reproach -- brought within him a sort of curious voracity, almost like a challenge. Some desire to break through the pristine shell, and at moments he thought to, but the moment he lurched out and sought more he was quickly pressed back to his point of origin, struck away. His valet liked the privacy of his emotions, perhaps, or simply took his profession all too seriously. The Argent should have been grateful -- and he was -- but he had been quick to turn their arrangement into a personal one.

And so, a part of him wished to argue with the other man on the topic of morality, and that part was not sated. His lips pressed together as he stared at the other man, almost disappointedly, as he quickly pulled away from the topic to calmly respond to the mage's facetious comments on his bathing, his pants -- and of course, poetry. At least on the latter front, Konrad appeared to be genuinely interested in sharing those stories with him. He'd even brought a book along.

Stephan had never really read poetry, nor even many books. He learned to speak relatively properly, and to embellish his words, not through literature but by Eloise's stern lessons. He'd been raised an illiterate urchin, taught by Vendrael to read so that he could help write reports, man their ledger and read documents regarding battle strategem. Literacy had always been a thing of practicality rather than pleasure. Now, he was to borrow some ages-old book, probably written in the most strange and unusual Silvain.

"Of course," he replied, as the man spoke of his terms. "Those words are artifacts of the past. I would not soil them. In fact, you would find no man in this Kingdom more reticent to degrade the words of his kind. We have lost enough that these remnants hold a value of deep significance."

He nodded, looking over the leather-bound shape of the journal, then back to his valet. "Thank you again, Konrad. You are too kind to me." Suddenly after speaking, he looked up as if surprised -- another thing popped into his mind. Stephan quickly rose a finger and said, "Ah, yes: I have sent a letter to my fiancé, through a portal. I will have news soon enough as to whether or not we will marry. If I do become a Celebrant and purchase or acquire an estate, would you be willing to relocate there to perform your duties? I would still be in service of the Lodge -- and as would you -- so I figured it should be alright. I just wanted to clear that with you," he nodded. "I also received a more direct promotion, this morning. I've been made a Thespian of the Covenant, meaning my standing with the Lodge has increased significantly as well. I'm now a part of the Covenant's council and I will be voting with them, and attending leadership meetings with the Pact. I thought I should inform you of that."

He was, perhaps, bragging: moreso, he felt proud of his accomplishments and had no one else to share them with. "Only two years ago, I was hopelessly wandering through the Daravinic Badlands. Now, I see myself on the top of society, surrounded by wealth and other fortunes, opulence consuming my view. It is odd," he quietly remarked.

The man exhaled a sigh, moving towards his bed and scratching at his nails. They were getting too long. "Another thing: I'd like you to attend me as I practice my magic, from now on. You have some interest in it, yes? I get terribly bored, learning it alone. Perhaps witnessing it in action -- the process -- will inspire you to decide whether you want it, one way or another. It shouldn't be incredibly cumbersome for you, anyhow; I'll be sure to do it during your hours of labor."

[Konrad Schreiber]

"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."

[Taelian Edevane]

He grinned as the other man made his 'jest' -- or whatever it was -- on the imminent danger of ennui in his practice. Magic could sometimes be a droll, clinical sort of thing, less driven by the abnormal flux of the arcane and more derived from theory and repetition. While all mages had their moment of seemingly divine inspiration, Taelian appeared to have those moments less than others. His trade was one of consistency, benefitted slightly enough by the arcane stamina of his race to offer him something of an edge. Eloise, too, had taught him well. She was the woman who had made him the man that he was, and without her, he can only ascertain that he would still be lying in the hills of Karnor, patrolling for a Dranoch scourge either never to come, or at least wildly delayed.

It only took one person and one philosophy to change a man's life, he had learned. While Konrad wasn't nearly so naive or impressionable as himself, particularly back then, he wondered if he could too have his eyes opened to such breadths. Taelian had long since been inspired by the Daravain's fiery ideology... her reverence for slim possibilities that all her efforts as a plain, mortal woman could never greatly budge. Her success had opened him to what magic could be; world-shifting. Eloise -- with only the skills of a woman with a sharp mind -- could never accomplish what she had.

As the two men migrated through the room, Stephan taking a seat upon his gilded mattress, he looked to the other man with a sort of curious deviance. Konrad had asked who Eloise was, and a thought struck his mind: she had been spreading information about him - lies and truths - all across the courts, deciding every facet of his life. He wondered if it might feel rewarding to share similar, yet truer things about her; to tell this man of the Umpire in greater detail. She was such a private woman to outsiders, much like himself.

"Eloise is my mentor," he said. "Éloise Arrosa de Lyonesse--" Stephan added, in a caricature of a Raillén accent-- "Though, she's actually from Verdiven, near the Rien-Daravinic Borderlands. Like me, she wields a false moniker, though she's been wearing hers for so long that she's become it..."

He trailed off for a moment; Stephan could not even remember her name. She never used it -- she had only told him a few times, whenever she spoke of her days as a... a Blanc... right. There it was. "Anna... ah-- Anna Clara," he nodded as he recalled, "...du Blanciet was her original name; a member of the Daravinic Entente, like your Celebrant, but... more influential, more worrying. I don't know what you have read of the Entente, but they have effectively monopolized all wealth and power in the Empire. Conniving bastards. The sort of people you non-mages think about when you feverishly wet yourselves worrying about the arcane."

There were a dozen stories he could share there, but -- he didn't think to. Not that far, at least. Most of it all, back when she lived in the Empire's north, was a collage of tragic stories that made him remorseful even now. That all wasn't really his right to share.

"When I first met her, she was really nice. Soft; kind to me. She's a half-Elf, and in a way she sort of became like a mother to me. I had never had anyone who really wanted to understand me. I had Riven who dearly loved me, but with him, it's like... some things are best left in the dark, you know? Some things might set him off, or upset him, or cause some stupid stir that becomes a tidal wave of primal rage. With her -- she was fascinated with my mind, and saw a brilliance in it that she wanted to bring out. She thought I had potential. So I joined the Covenant, and since then I've focused on that life, but--"

He stopped himself. His story on the woman had quickly become an emotional exposé of his own. The man offered his second hand to the valet as he continued his work, leaning back onto his one palm and sighing. "If you couldn't tell, she's the leader of the Covenant. It turns out... she mostly just wanted what power I could bring her, all the kindness a reel and a ruse. She wants me to start initiating other members of the Covenant into Sigilic Pyromancy, because it's the rarest magic in the world outside of Sil-Elaine. It would help bring them prestige, it would expand their range of capabilities and powers -- and it's excellent for a variety of purposes. Mages benefit greatly from versatility. That's what she wants me to bring to the group: another option in their long list, another thing to pull from for their... endeavors."

Stephan lowered his gaze, and laid back onto the soft surface of the mattress, keeping his hand elevated. He looked up towards the stone, and his first thought was: I need a wooden canopy. The man oddly began to laugh. "She's just an Entente who got driven out of her lands but never lost her fixation with power. I do believe her when she says that she wants mages to be accepted, legalized: she speaks those words with a certain... flame. Really, she's just my superior. Like you, I tend to her needs, I soothe her worries and embark on her many tasks. I am then given the illusion of authority in exchange."

It was unclear whether or not he was bitter. With the flat neutrality of his voice, it would have been difficult to tell. Finally he turned his head to look at the man properly, and a small smile formed upon the corners of his lips: "I'd like to further my understanding of Animus; a... beast-shifting magic. We'll do that, come Evitrad," he referred to the seventh day of the week, two days from then. "Make sure to bring your own self-pitying stories. And some stronger wine," he laughed.