Lord Kenten stood alone, on the outskirts of the congregation of lords. He knew he wasn't necessarily a long-awaited guest, and was at least smart enough to keep it that way. After all, most questions directed to him weren't ever regarding his children's studies, or gifts, or other sundry bits of small-talk made by the proud lords.

No, they would be about the son that he had lost in a bet, or the innumerable bandit camps in his lands, or his vassal houses that were losing faith in his rule. They would [i]criticize[/i] him. And there was nothing he hated more than to be criticized by lesser men, men who hadn't known the scorn of bastardy, or of stinging winds, or of the threat of usurpation. It wasn't a secret, what he thought of them. Lesser men, who knew nothing of the world outside of their supercilious ivory towers.

As luck would have it, he saw the least of these lesser men out of the corner of his eye, and one he wanted to speak to at that. Lord James Conrad of The Isle of Men, leader of the Sea-Born. Kenten scoffed under his breath.

"Bloody Sea-Born", he silently repeated to himself. "Pompous sailors and raiders, more like." He continued to mutter to himself, a safe enough distance away. "Wouldn't know a thing about the mainland if it jumped up and bit 'em on the arse." His disdain for House Conrad, and near every other house, had little limit. Unlike every other house, however, he wanted something from Conrad. He needed something.

"Lord James," He said, walking up to the younger lord. It was an odd juxtaposition. Lord Conrad, who was thin and tall, wearing his most regal garb and carrying boxes of gifts, next to the short, stocky Cragmore, wearing a stained leather tunic that had a small spot of unnoticed caked-on bird guano.

"Pleasure t'see you again," He said, lies already pouring from his crooked teeth.
"It's been many a great turns." And, truthfully, it was. The last time he had seen Lord Conrad, it was nearly sixteen years ago, and he had drunkenly made and lost a bet to him, handing over his priceless family sword, Tempest, and his infant son, Harper. One of his greater defeats, and without even unsheathing a sword.

James who had been talking with his men about what he had abtained when he heard a familier voice. He turned to see it none other then Lord Kenten a man who thought would be his worst enemy at this meeing and is yet the second man to greet himself before James. "What a surprise." Jame said standing up with his hand out to shake. "Though we may not be friends I still once again offer apoligies for what had happened. Along with you being a bastards most Lords dislike you but you prove them wrong. A bastard could become a Lord even a head of house." Jame Smiled and knew his old pal wanted something but wasn't sure about what.

"Please take a seat we can discuss this like men can we not?" James grabbed his glass of wine and took a sip waiting to hear what the man had to say.

Kenten shook his hand, nodding eagerly. In the grand scheme of things, the two were opposites, and it showed. Lord Conrad's biggest fault was his honesty -- He wasn't known to lie, cheat, or steal, and when he spoke, he had the habit of saying a lot. At this time, 'A lot' was to only bring up Kenten's lineage. His [b][i]hated[/i][/b] lineage. The reason he was known as "The Bastard King" before he was called "The Smuggler King".

Kenten's greatest fault was hard to find, being a man with far too many, but it was arguably his ability to lie. He would lie to get himself into conflict, and lie to get himself out of it. He would lie to appease men under his rule and to appease those who weren't. He would lie only more often than he breathed, and only less often than he was awake. He had lied since he was born, and when he died, he would likely lie to death himself.

He was dishonest, in other words.

"I'll be blunt with you Conrad. You're a man who's wont to speak plainly, so I'll be doing the same -- None of this complex foreign desert negotiatin' business." He said, nodding his head towards the Kreshvi with a perplexed look on his face. "I have something you want, you have something I want. What's there keeping us from 'em?"

James gave a nice hardy laugh. It was true James was rather honest and but things bluntly."I guess you are right you have a vote I have a sword. You also have metals my allies land's need metals. I assume that should be a sutiable arrangement?" James took a bite of some of his chicken and another small drink of wine waiting to hear Kenten.

"Aye." He said, twisting his face into a smile. "In exchange for you returning the Cragmore Makitherin Sword, Tempest," he said, slowly and carefully, sure to not muddle anything up, "My vote for your Regency is guaranteed." He hawked up a great deal of phlegm, and spat it into his palm. "Agreed?"

James thought for a for a few seconds he began to slowly nod "Aye but only if I win. I won't give up a valued sword should I lose. Also should I win you'll have to wait in Skyhaven for a month or two till my son can arrive and bring it."

Kenten's spit-covered palm balled up into a fist a moment before James could shake it. "Listen, mate. I can vote for you, and that I can promise. I can even promise that I'll stand and speak, and talk about why you should be Lord Regent instead of that big'un Kreshvi, or the high-and-mighty Sovanids, or even the Paragon boy himself." He hid his anger, only because he felt the situation was salvageable.

"But no matter how hard I try, no matter what I say, I cannot actually [i]promise[/i] your Regency, and I'm an honest man, y'see, who'll only shake on what he can promise." He leaned back into his chair, gesticulating with his hands. "Whereas, you can promise a sword being given to me either way. And a sword that's said to be cursed, mind you." He raised an eyebrow toward James. "I hear word that men don't like taking it on ships, and you and I both know why." He cleared his throat, leaning forward, for one final word.

"I can promise you a vote and a speech, but I can't promise you that it'll be enough. I'm only one man, Conrad. You can promise a sword either way, especially one your men don't even like touching."

James nodded and began "At least you sir are somewhat truthful. I can agree to these terms and should I win you'll get your sword within a month or 2 and should I lose my guards and I can accompany you to your lands till my son arrives at House Whiteshorn to visit Flint's house and his wife's homeland. It was a pleasure talking to you and seeing you again" James shook Kenten's hand and waited to see if he had anything else to say.

Kenten shook his hand. "Aye. That'll do."

As Kenten walked off, he continued to think to himself, slinking along the walls where he had started. He needed the sword just as much as James needed regency, and for the same reason -- Glory. James wanted to be Lord Regent to give his family a place in history. He wanted it as a symbol. Kenten wanted Tempest returned in the hopes that it would prove his capability as Lord of Stonereach. He too, wanted it as a symbol.