<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-weight: bold">Queen Cestaline</span> // <span style="color: #FFFF80">Scarborough Castle</span><br/><a href="//www.creativefreedomrpg.com/memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&amp;u=110674">@thetruegarsot</a> <a href="//www.creativefreedomrpg.com/memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&amp;u=111593">@Lewi</a> <a href="//www.creativefreedomrpg.com/memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&amp;u=110586">@WildSpawn</a></div><br/><br/><br/>Her slender fingers pressed gently into her husband's hand, but maintained a posture of well-meaning.  She had much practice in projecting herself in such a way that was unreadable beyond her intended communication.  Three years being wed to the king of fools demanded a well played demeanor.  Allistair rejected her proposal, and she allowed a look of hurt to set into her previously confident and caring expression.  It often worked with Allistair; the oaf was weak in the face of emotion.  He allowed it to guide his decisions far too easily.  It was a shame Aurion was always injecting him with reason, or she'd have crushed this miserable kingdom long ago.<br/><br/>It mattered not, however, if she could win him over with pity.  Cestaline had long maintained her secret from Allistair- even from Aurion and Harold.  See, there were different breeds of magic.  Many were versed in combat magic, like her dear husband, and others in more utility spells like Harold.  Some magic was like a faintly lingering perfume, and some left a roiling scar- Bren, for example, was easily identifiable by his past usage of tainted sorcery.  It lingered in his aura, the dying black flames forever attempting to rekindle themselves in a long extinguished hearth.  Some magic was nary detectable, even if used.  Those of the arcane would find themselves hard-pressed to sense nature magic, because it did not leave the same magical fingerprint as other arts did.  Cestaline played this to her advantage.<br/><br/>She was careful about her magic usage, because while tracking it was not easily done, it nonetheless left traces, and she would be naive to think Aurion and Harold hadn't noticed it.  However, with no tangible connections, she'd managed to disassociate herself with its presence thus far.  Her thin brows pressed into concern as her eyes darted between the three men.<br/><br/>"Do you distrust our Barons, Aurion?" she questioned, though not in an accusing tone.  She turned to face Allistair, weaving a look of slowly dawning understanding.  Her voice dropped to a hushed undertone, the kind she used to address her husband directly.  "And you would send your two most valued men into such dangerous territories?  You cannot allow this!  Send soldiers instead," she pleaded, taking hold of his hand in both of hers now.  "If you must, send some mages to collect intel.  We cannot afford the lives of our Archmage and General if the threat is imminent, hm?"  She pressed.<br/><br/>She knew her pleads to keep them out of harms way would go without consideration.  The Queen was a diplomat, not a war strategist.  She wanted only the safety of her people, but knew not of necessities involved in operations engaged in by their military.  That concern was already in capable hands.  Her sentiments would be cast away as just that- worried sentiments.  Ces knew they would go through with the patrol, because she knew that Bren would not relent until he found his scouts or he'd drawn his last breath, and Aurion would never turn up a chance to defy her wishes.  The salty bastard.<br/><br/>Finally, she cast her eyes down, released a tired sigh, then turned forward in her seat again, folding her hands into her lap.  She studied the table top, biting her upper lip as she pretended to consider the stakes.  Harold and Earl were another matter to be dealt with, but Harold was frail and old, and could easily be dispatched should she need to.  Earl was young, but inexperienced in magic and thus she did not consider him as big a threat.<br/><br/>"Very well," she relented, "Shall we consult then with Harold and his apprentice?  If you insist upon this patrol of the outskirts, it would do you well to meet with our Archivist first.  I'm certain he can also produce a map for you, as well."<br/><br/>The kitchen servants presented their breakfast.  Cestaline indulged in humble quiet, demonstrating all proper table mannerisms as she eyed the rest of them.  She idly wondered if the ethereal fiend across from her would pretend to eat again.  It'd always disturbed her.  Cestaline had seen him do it before.  She knew little about djinni, but she knew for certain the ethereal did not need to eat to survive.  Why he did it was anyone's guess.  Perhaps he wished to maintain a human appearance?  She would have scoffed at the effort- everyone at this table knew that human he was not.  In fact, their general was almost more qualified with his untouched plate.<br/><br/>Bren suddenly stood, pushing his chair back with a loud drag of its legs.  Cestaline lowered her utensil, her head turning curiously in his direction.  She could barely hear his muttered excuse before he marched out of the dining hall with purpose.  She shot the other two an inquisitive look.  Truthfully, though, she couldn't have cared less what he was up to.  He would die soon enough, and the king and his wretched Scarborough would follow.  And that was all that mattered.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-weight: bold">General Wolfhart</span> // <span style="color: #FFFF80">Scarborough Castle</span></div><br/><br/>Something foul was in the air.  He recognised it immediately when he observed Aurion's collected exchange with the queen.  He could see that Aurion did not favour her, and while his reasons were anything but concrete, Bren knew that Aurion sensed something he couldn't.  To be fair, the djinn was distrustful of almost anyone the king came into contact with, but he had to wonder; the queen had been involved with the court, officially, for three years.  Not once has Aurion changed tune with her.  The hostility had yet remained quite the same.  He didn't know what Aurion sensed in the woman.  Bren could feel magic as well, and while Aurion was practically made of it, Cestaline seemed as much as a magic user as a rock in the gardens.  He had his doubts.  Had Aurion witnessed something concerning about her?<br/><br/>Bren found himself so deeply in thought that he missed when the servants filled their table with breakfast foods.  He eyed it idly, even going as far as to pick up his fork and prod at the biscuits- no matter how amazing the dish smelled and looked, he couldn't think about eating without reminding himself that his men were hungry and cold, and here he was, enjoying a proper and full breakfast with royalty itself.  The guilt gnawed at him until he simply set the fork down, peering up at the king and queen with forlorn eyes.  He trusted they could and would handle things of the less direct nature.  He had to be there for his men.  He would take the king's advice and rest up before their patrol-<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>he promised him already, but until then, he had a duel to look forward to.<br/><br/>"I'll be in the Ring," he informed them in a low and inarticulate voice.  He excused himself rather abruptly, but they were all accustomed to his manner of urgency often practiced at times.  The Ring was the castle's very own training ground, laden with different practice weapons and training dummies.  It was smartly situated where it could be seen from the infirmary wing, which Bren managed to keep busy as he had his soldiers training among themselves in calmer times.  With all of them spread and assigned duties, the Ring was quite abandoned lately.<br/><br/>He remembered his days as a mere chamber boy, always passing the Ring, running between the different sections of the castle.  He would always stop and watch when any of the knights were training.  The way they danced and handled their blades with such expertise, undaunted by the cuts on their shins or the sweat rolling down their temples, drew his undivided attention without fail.  Bren hadn't known it then, but it was the influence of this art which would cause him to turn against his own mother.  The knights of Scarborough were the first humans he'd ever met to show him kindness and belonging, after all the lies his mother told him about the 'Steel-wielding men'.  At the time he was meeting with her secretly for years, almost every two moons to keep her in touch with his progress.  It sickened him to think he had ever been a part of her plans to dismantle the royalty of this kingdom.<br/><br/>He'd taken up a sword now, and began dancing around one of the training dummies, striking at it like an angered snake, then swiveling as it spun to retaliate.  As a boy, he'd always done this in the dead of night.  No soldier ever trained at night, so it was the only time a young chamber boy could even touch the weapons, let alone swing them.  His swings were loud and clumsy, and he was knocked on his bottom many times.  This lasted perhaps a month before he was caught.  One of the knight-captains, instead of scolding him for it, coached his moves.  Every night he began to catch him like this, until he was invited to train during the day with the rest of the lads.<br/><br/>There had still been the problem of his mother.  For years he simply put aside his dark arts and focused on his swordplay.  The more immersed he became in Scarborough, the less he was interested in keeping his mother's plan for him in tact.  He made the mistake of telling her that he wished to become a knight, and forsake her mission as his allegiances had shifted.  She wasn't having it; too many years and far too much had gone into training Bren in the most powerful sorcery she knew.  The last time he attempted to contact her ritually, she attempted to force a demon into his body.  After countless nights sleeping with wards strewn about his quarters and all over the castle, he decided enough was enough.  He eventually cut her down with his sword.<br/><br/>The dummy exploded in a shower of straw and bristles as he swung his blade down upon it.  He exhaled a tired breath.  It was easy to imagine the dummies as his mother when he trained.  He was a fierce opponent when his kingdom or those he loved were threatened.  Whomever this secret enemy was- and he prayed him and Aurion might find a lead on their identity tonight- Bren would see to it that they answered to their crimes.