[b]Mercy, capital of Alenius[/b] [color=ed1c24]"Projected allies."[/color] The Old Man's voice was harsh, drilling for an answer. [color=7ea7d8]"Minimal; There is a distinct lack of amicable relations between our house and the other nobles of the land. Remonnet was, by far, the best relation we had and he's dead. Our neighbors are our largest threats, which serves a dual purpose; the best allies are those whose needs do not overlap nor interfere with our own, and whose ambition lies elsewhere. This leads me to name Staghain and Sutharlan as the two most beneficial allies due to their positioning across the sea from our nation's borders."[/color] Eli Blackwell studied the map before him with a near disinterest; he had the map memorized in more ways than one. Geographic boundaries, political boundaries, cultural boundaries... There were a great number of ways to identify those living in Formaroth. Political boundaries were, decidedly, the most important. "[color=7ea7d8]"Mazeltof would ordinarily be a good choice, but our people have warred in the past and relations would be difficult to maintain."[/color] The Old Man nodded. [color=ed1c24]"Good. Biggest threats?"[/color] He was testing his son; he already had these answers, but it was critical that his head tactician and diplomat was aware and cognoscente of the state affairs. To Eli, this felt much like a chore- something he experienced daily and with great ease. [color=7ea7d8]"The largest threats lie in Akki and Telmarion. The peoples of Akki are carefree and wild- most see them as lawless and criminals. While they were allies during the Civil War, they do pose the largest threat due to possessing the ability to split our forces along multiple fronts should the war spring up and they prove to be enemies. Telmarion is the most near of kingdoms, and thus the largest threat of direct invasion. Barring these two, we would have far more than enough time to prepare defenses and gather information to launch an offensive front rather than stagnate with a defensive war. Our troops are some of the greatest in Formaroth, but a defensive war always leads to attrition on both fronts and we cannot risk losing resources and manpower on objectives that do not produce beneficial additions to the nation."[/color] Eli was studied, and had gone over these exact same calculations hundreds of times in his head. He had his war effort planned out, but as he looked to his Father- finally glancing up from the map- he knew the Old Man was already three steps ahead of himself. It infuriated him and made him respect his father all at once; he needed to impress this man, yet he was able to stay ahead of Eli's young mind every step of the way. When their gazes met, it was as if The Old Man's plans leapt through the air and implanted themselves into Eli's mind. Eli couldn't help but smirk. [color=ed1c24]"You just caught on to what my plan is. That's good, you're starting to think beyond how to win a fight and how to win a war. Humor me, son; What should we do with Akki? What should we do about Telmarion? What should we do about the throne?"[/color] The Old Man was gruff, and his face was stoic, but his demeanor carried an energy that echoed of battles long fought and won. He leaned down upon the table with his hands, as if encompassing the map of Formaroth within himself. [color=7ea7d8]"It's simple. I'll take Drevala and a legion of our military to go make nice with Akki- they'll make far superior allies to enemies should the Telmarion front turn hostile. If you're right, the negotiations of Nyhem will conclude with an unsuccessful designation of a successor and the kingdoms will fragment- but we'll already have a tightly woven net of allies to work with. Akki, Sutharlan, and Staghain."[/color] Eli said the names; Akki's was foreign and he said it with a lilting laugh, as if it was amusing for him to say it, but the other two bore a respect. [color=ed1c24]"I'm glad you and I are in agreement. I shall send messengers to Staghain and Sutharlan while you go to Akki. I expect you to be gone by the end of the week. Send Drevala to me when you leave, and prepare the men for war- but do not draw a blade until you get word of the failed account of succession."[/color] ..... [b]Mercy, midnight; Giles Blackwell's Garden[/b] Giles was kneeling down in the center of the barren, stone, terrace. His simplistic clothing was discarded and in its stead he was wearing a curious outfit of distinctive purpose; A breastplate, with half plate greaves, and arms of dragon's scale- his old mercenary's armor had been maintained and refitted through the years to accent the Old Man's agility and lack of shield, and it still carried the rustic efficiency of a mercenary captain while simultaneously containing the masterful work of the Alenius blacksmith. Armor fit for a king born in war. He was kneeling here, the moon clouded high above, with head bowed and arms extended out to his sides. He had begun this meditation of his hours ago, and deep into the night he continued. He did not sleep, nor did he eat, nor did he move. His stoic vigilance was eerie to behold was curious to observe. This meditation of his was a ritual he always performed when he anticipated battle, and served to also reacclimatize the man to his armor after the peace following the Dragon War. When the moon reached its zenith, the man lifted his head and, bringing a hand to his face to pull his long silver hair back and out of his vision, stared upward to the moon. [color=ed1c24]"This will be my last war. I can feel it in my bones, Drevala. Your brother will be a damn fine leader, but don't let him forget we're no nobles; Blackwells started as farmers and mercenaries, not kings and scholars. I know that lad fancies himself a king, and if he gets himself onto the throne of Formaroth after I'm gone I won't be surprised one bit."[/color] He rose up and stood rigid, a stark military stance. He lifted a hand to his forehead and, with two fingers, drew a line across his face- casting his hand aside as if discarding a hand of cards. This was an old salute of the man's, back when he was a young mercenary. It served to bring him back to his roots. [color=ed1c24]"I've grown melancholy. I've fought damn hard to get us here, and I can feel war coming in my bones."[/color] The man seemed to express some vague emotion on his face- a fleeting smile, perhaps- and turn to stare at the small mouse sitting beneath a small patch of weeds. [color=ed1c24]"Never falter, never fall. Keep your siblings safe, Drevala. We'll have a war on our hands again and we'll make it the best damn war anybody's ever seen."[/color] This last statement carried nothing but the honest conviction of a soldier tasked with something evil and dirty. The Mouse was silent in response, and after watching the man return to his chambers to sleep, dashed away into the night... ..... [b]Mercy, early morning[/b] [color=00a651]"What if there is no war, brother?"[/color] Drevala's voice was soft spoken and calm; inquisitive and inviting. Her brother, however, had naught but a scowl upon his face. Drevala had only just woken him up with a violent shaking in the pre-dawn morning. Adding to Eli's dismay was the fact his sister was shameless and wore one of [I]his[/I] robes over her bare body. He assumed she had just flown in his window and thrown on the first clothing she found before waking him, but it was still annoying to be woken up. [color=7ea7d8]"There will be. There is no direct successor and a half dozen pretenders. The crown is deeply indebted, and the bank is as brutal as father is. If the nobles don't fight over the crown, the bank will claim it in return for bankruptcy. Ha!"[/color] The man snorted at this statement as if the idea of the bank seizing the throne was incredibly amusing to him. He brushed his sister off and sat up, rubbing his face and looking aside from the woman. He peered through his fingers and out of his chamber door, onto the open-air balcony he enjoyed as a private luxury. His father had his garden, Eli had his balcony. He rose up, brushing roughly past his silent sister, and swaggered out into the air- grabbing up a leather glove in passing and sliding it onto his arm. Upon emerging outside his mouth emitted a shrill whistle into the air and he extended his arm outward- a few moments later a great falcon alighting upon his arm. [color=00a651]"Good morning Mary."[/color] Drevala cooed as she followed Eli onto the balcony. "[color=00a651]Answer me this; what if there is no war? What will you and father do? I will not judge nor resist any plan you say or course of action you wish to take, as I love you and father dearly, but I just wish to know what you will do if there is no war to be had."[/color] Eli was silent for a moment, gently stroking the bird's feathers. He lowered his head and cast the bird into the air, before setting his gaze onto Drevala. What the woman saw chilled her deeply; his eyes were identical to her father's. [color=7ea7d8]"If there is no war, Drevala, we will incite one."[/color] [color=00a651]"If we make war, father will die."[/color] The two seemed to have mutually stunned one another into silence, but neither wavered in their gaze. At last they spoke as one; [u]"I'm with you, (Brother/Sister).[/u] [color=7ea7d8]"...If there is no war, I will not drive father to his death by agreeing to incite one."[/color] [color=00a651]"If there is a war, I will keep you and our sisters alive to see its end."[/color] The two made these promises to one another as the sun dawned and turned the sky a crimson hue above them- red battling black for dominance. Drevala looked to the sky- Eli slowly following her gaze upward. A few seconds later, his robe fell t the ground and a second falcon took flight into the sky. It was at this moment he realized his sister had contradicted herself and gotten him to double-think his intentions. He clicked his tongue and shook his head, grabbing up the fallen robe as he returned into his room to prepare for the day.