Ardaik 17th - Tulot, Serellia

"Flann doesn't want to be king?" Norah sounded nothing short of shocked by what her friend had told her.

"Oh, Norah," Alorta tutted as she took a sip from her mug of steaming tea before continuing. "Tis so much more complicated than that. Being king would destroy Flann. He's too friendly and easygoing... A king like that, while he would be sure to win the favor of our people, would also have his innocence crushed by the ruthless Cardenian and Lorellian leaders. I'd much rather my brother remain himself than see his kindness slowly stripped away by the world's harsh reality. He'd make a far better jarl or something else that would suit his spirit better. Better he loses his title than his soul."

"I suppose yer right. I would hate ta see Flann not himself," Norah agreed as she popped a piece of cracker topped with a bit of cheese into her mouth. Her gaze drifted to the painted windows that, while beautiful, prevented her from seeing much of the garden that lay just beyond them. She supposed Alorta knew Flann best. She was his sister, after all.

"Could you imagine him as grizzled and grim as our father? Flann wouldn't be happy with that. No one would!" Alorta giggled at the idea, but her expression soon turned sympathetic. Flann was renowned for his love of revelry and adventure, a sweet but straightforward man, and everyone knew it. No one expected him to be tied to a throne and shackled by obligations.

"But then you must have a prospect for a husband?" Norah's attention was entirely on her friend now that the topic of men was back on the table. So often, Alorta pried for information about Norah's love life. It was so rare for the tables to be turned.

"Oh, of course I do. I always have prospects."

"A jarl's son, then? I suppose any family would be happy to see their name elevated."

"Oh, no, Norah, not a jarl... A marquis," Alorta stated with a confident smile.

"Marquis!? You mean to marry a Lorellian!?" Norah all but gasped.

"No, but he is the nearest thing to Lorellian among the Serellian nobility,"

Another shriek escaped Norah as realization painted her features. "No! Bhalthier?" The shock in Norah's tone grew into intrigue as she leaned in closer to the table. "However, did you manage to get him to propose?" she wondered.

"Well, I haven't yet. But he will! I mean, why wouldn't he?" Alorta replied, tilting her head before taking another sip with all the poise of a calculated tactician.

"Oh no, Alorta, I fear you may have bitten off more bark than wood," said Norah. Bhalthier had been Serrellia's most eligible bachelor for as long as Norah could remember. But there were several rumors as to why. His reputation was largely one of mystery and tragedy, and there was no shortage of claims that he had supernatural ties, making Bhalthier's sorted past more than a little off-putting. Of course, he was the only heir to Homenil, and had a relatively high standing with the royal family... Any girl who married him was sure to be well off, and never need fear having an unpleasant mother-in-law, so long as they could get over the Cullachs' cursed history.

But then there was the matter of Bhalthier himself. Rumors and tales of curses aside, Norah believed that the real reason Bhalthier had remained single was of his own choice. Despite his long list of oddities, Norah knew of several young heiresses that had taken a shine to the murky marquis, and he'd turned every single one down.

"What if he refuses?"

"He won't refuse," Alorta replied without hesitation.

"But what—" Before Norah could finish, the door opened, and Eron, who had been posted just outside, stepped in.

"Forgive my interruption, M'lady, but a matter needs your attention," Eron stated before looking at Norah and giving her a dashing smile. "Apologies, Lady Norah."

"Oh, not a'toll. I was just going to go find my brother, anyway," Norah assured while she placed her napkin on the table and stood. Then, after giving her dear friend a soft peck on the cheek, Norah left them.

The moment she was gone, Alorta looked at Eron. "What is it?"

"I'll explain on the way," her guard said as he offered his arm to her and led the way. After she'd taken it and they'd gone a reasonable distance down the hall, Eron glanced around before speaking in a private tone. "One of the maids was found in a boar pin near the castle walls. One of your maids," Eron explained, but instead of looking shocked or appalled by the news, Alorta looked bored and mildly annoyed.

"Fancy that. She was such that not even the boars wanted to eat her," the princess mused with a scowl.

"I took care of her, but I think one of the stable hands might have seen, and if they report it to Captain Spar..." Eron trailed off as it seemed just the mentioning of Norah's cousin got a sour look from Alorta.

"Tell him it was an accident...or make up another story. I can't imagine much thought will be put into one missing maid," said the princess.

But Eron stopped suddenly and pulled her aside into a small pocket between the hall and a door where he felt they were afforded the most privacy.

"One maid? No, no one would think much of it, but this is the third in a month. How many more shall I have to explain away?" Eron wondered, his expression stern.

The princess looked stunned momentarily as if Eron had struck her, but despite how he towered over her, she knew who held the real power. Her family paid for his armor, fed his belly, and shoed his horse. Eron was about as imposing as a puppy when she reminded herself of that.

"As many as I ask of you..." Alorta's words were soft and tender as she leaned up to whisper them across Eron's lower lip.

***

Ardaik 17th - Tulot, Serellia

It was just past midday when Folian took his break and sought to meet with his uncle. The entire castle felt quiet despite the servants and maids rushing about to make the arrangements for honoring the passing of the former king. The sun was shining, but Folian pitied the men valiantly, fighting the chilly wind that occasionally gusted through, whipping about the mourning banners and nearly tearing them from their hands.

"I think it best that Liam be given some space," Iain said as he walked beside his nephew. "The loss of a parent is never easy, even when it's expected."

"Aye," Folian agreed, though he couldn't actually relate to the experience personally. "I remember when grand-da passed."

Iain nodded, sighing out tendrils of smoke through his nose as though he himself were a dragon.

"He'll be on Flannie-boy now. Liam is quite serious about passing down the throne while he's in fair enough condition ta support his son as our new king."

"You still plan ta leave on the morrow?"

"Mhm. After I pay my respects at the family's tree. Kilian will stay, a'course, ta continue his training, but Norah and I will return to Timberhold until the hunt and festival."

Folian paused mid-stride, prompting Iain to do the same. The men stared at each other for at least a solid minute in silence before Iain took a puff of his pipe, then spoke. "Well, speak yer mind, lad. The wick's clearly burnin'."

The guard captain shifted his weight, his gaze wandering before returning to Iain. "About Norah returning home..."

"Ya want 'er to stay."

Folian wiped his hands against his pants, looking away again. "Aye," he admitted softly. When what felt like too long for him to bear passed without Iain replying, Folian's eyes again found his uncle—the man he respected just as well, if not more so, than his own father.

"Ya already know how my sister feels about my children."

"Aye."

"An' Norah wants a family. Yer far too busy for a family."

Nodding, Folian sighed. "Aye." His brows knitted together as he watched a raven land on the stone retaining wall beside them. Great. That was all he needed. One of Cullach's birds spying his embarrassment.

He shouldn't have said anything about Norah. He wasn't confident about what had even moved him to do such a thing in the first place. Maybe having seen the devastation in La'Trest and in Malton... Maybe it had been seeing Norah cry over Flann...

"No response to that, eh?"

"Hm?"

"Ya went somewhere fer a second, Spar, but it's beyond me where," Liam said.

Folian gave him a brief but genuinely apologetic half-smile. This was mortifying.

"I said if yer sincere in yar intent, I'd allow it."

"Wait... Truly?"

This time it was Iain who let out an exasperated sigh, followed by the low rumble of a chuckle. "I wagered the day would come when ya'd ask me, anyway, Folian. I'm no fool, an' I've felt the bite'a love b'fore. If she's about it, I'll allow it. We just won't say any of it ta yar mother."

A bright, lopsided smile spread like a fire across the captain's speckled face. "Thank you."

"Aye," Iain said, cracking a smile himself before spotting the Citadel mages and pointing the neck of his pipe in their direction. "Still 'ere? I thought they were done nosing around."

The crow took to the sky again in a flurry of flaps, only earning a side glance from Folain before he responded. "I thought so as well."

"That seems like a matter for you ta handle." Iain gave Folain's shoulder a solid pat before they parted ways.

Folian approached the two mages, noting how they seemed to intentionally cut their conversation short just before he reached them. "Should I be concerned that yer investigation still finds ya here in Tulot?"

Yuli turned to face him, sunlight glinting off of her snowy long hair and onyx horns. "Vaklo noticed someone transporting a body this morning."

"He did?"

"Yes, and it raised a question."

"An what question was that?" Folian said rather quickly, only then realizing by the look on the High Cleric's face that he seemed to have interrupted her.

"Death rites in Lorellia are quite different from your practices here, are they not?"

Folian raised a brow. "Aye. They keep the bones of thar dead an divide 'em up like heirlooms."

"Just the bones... Then they have some means of removing everything else from a corpse?"

Every tiny hair on the back of Folian's neck stood, and he wore a very uncomfortable expression. "I suppose they do."

"Then the undead you described seeing in La'Trest... It would be reasonable to assume they were not Lorellian. Is that correct?"

Folian thought for a moment. "Aye?"

Vaklo crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Then how did they get to La'Trest largely undetected?"

"The toads could have made the journey nautically," Yuli said, when Folian failed to supply a response. "But for the undead, that would've been an impossibility for them to have remained intact enough that the lot of you initially thought them alive upon approach," she concluded. "They didn't come from the Frigid Marsh... Do you have a Merchant's Guild Emissary here in the city?"

"We do."

Yuli nodded, lacing her thin clawed fingers in front of her traveling robes. "We'll need to consult their maps then, before we depart."