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Four days after Quay's escape from the Crown city, he finds himself in Galena Fort, the mining hub nearest to the Capital. He meets with Lord Galeni who asks him a few questions about Elden's current state of affairs where it is reveled that the Families (royal family of a town) have formed a coalition that solidifies thier power (they supply raw resources to one another an Elden)(a treaty in the early days of Elden's founding grounded the Families ownership of the lands resources) against the king, and with a bit of slander a secret revealing, they slowly destroy his credibility. Because of this, Quay hates him. Its is also revealed that the Queen died 15 years ago from an epidemic. Galeni give Quay his "predecessors" rank of High Commander (= to General)(Elden royalty by law are to join the military and are given positions of power within it. Quay was a Commander = to Lieutenant General)(The Crown Prince is always the High Commander) Quay is sent to Ionia's capital and to avoid fight despite the treaty that requires them to come to thier aid. It is revealed that the Families voted against the following up of the treaty, rather, they want to provide Ionia with weapons instead. Quay finds this disturbing, voices his opinion, but his quickly dismissed.
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Quay stood at ease, facing the doors to the Galeni court hall. It was an impressive doorway, a vast, arcing construction of wood and ancient, banded ivory that made it seem as if Lord Galeni was in the habit of entertaining giants. The stairwell leading up from the courtyard told a different story. The broad steps - too deep for any human stride - were scored by the passage of bronze-clad hooves. It was a grand gesture of celebration to have mounted troops ride through the hall in full plate, and it was the lords pleasure to keep the spectacle alive. Quay had seen it enough times to have come to his own conclusions. It was ridiculous. The pomp that accompanied their entrance was impressive; there was something awe-inspiring in the clamour of vast bodies, the hot shudder of their breath, and the flint-spark strikes as they ascended in darkness. Once that was done with, though, there was no easy way for him to settle knowing that all it would take was for one of the horses to panic and they'd have the noblest bloodbath in living memory to mop up after. Trained as they were to a level of obedience that put most recruits to shame, Quay couldn't shake the feeling that all horses were big, mad buggers that trembled perpetually on the cusp of an explosion. They looked calm, but were really just biding their time until an excuse came along for them to kick your belly out through your spine.

He had been waiting for a long time to see the Lord of the Galeni Family, Colin's father. Been kept waiting, to be exact, but that meant little to him. Army life was all about waiting: waiting for orders, waiting for supplies, waiting for the enemy. A very small part of the job was all about trying very, very hard to stay alive, but mostly it was about waiting, as his teachers told him. Apparently though, luck had factored heavily on the survival side of things, Quay had spent a long time mastering the military art of killing time. Sleep was the best way. Nothing could fill an hour quite like a nap. Sadly, there was no such luxury within the royal court. You showed up when summoned and hoped your social capital was high enough to see you ushered in before your legs fell asleep, even despite the fact that he was Prince of Eldan. Likewise there was nowhere to sit, unless you were the sort of fool who would be happy to let the stone floor leach all the heat out of his arse. So, Quay stood at ease with his eyes focused on nothing at all, and sang a song inside his head.

It was a folk song, of sorts, about a young soldier who meets a milkmaid coming the other way down a narrow street carrying her milk pans to market. He could only remember thirty or so verses of it - there were plenty he was glad to have forgotten because they might have put a lie to his claim of standing at ease - but he also knew it took about a third of an hour to get through them. Three repeats an hour, over and over, it made for a simple and entertaining way to keep track of how long the lord intended to demonstrate his displeasure, and a nice distraction from the thought that if he was really counting time on Galeni's ire then it was getting on for fifteen years now. Fifteen years since Quay had lost his mother to the Whispering, fifteen years since Galeni began to weave the trap his father fell so easily into.

There was a clank from inside the hall, the scrape of a giant bolt being drawn back, and a shift in the air as the massive doors relaxed inward on their hinges. Quay adjusted his doublet, making sure it sat neatly across his chest. He felt like an idiot wearing it, but it was what court demanded. The hose were even worse. Some clever dyer had perfected the process of a dark blue that held fast to cloth, and it was considered the height of fashion to wear it. When he'd asked for some clean clothes to present himself, he'd forgotten to specify that they shouldn't make him look like a blueberry. Quay drew himself to attention and tried to swallow the thought down. Quay put his feet together, his arms by his sides, raised his chin and presented the professionally blank expression of a soldier at parade. A steward appeared in the widening gap of the doorway, his face an artfully-composed picture of superiority and worldly disapproval.

"The Lord waits for you," the steward said. Quay stayed at attention, his gaze distant. The steward's expression faltered, and he stepped forward, brimming with sudden impatience. "The Lord waits for you," he said, more urgently. "You will attend."

Quay dropped his gaze and looked at the man, keeping his face neutral. [color=Tan]"What is my rank?"[/color]

"What?"

[color=Tan]"My rank. What is it?"[/color]

The steward's cheeks lit up scarlet, and he scurried right out onto the steps, coming face to face with Quay. "Now look here," he said, his voice low and insistent. "You will not-"

Quay shifted his weight and punched the man hard in the belly. The steward folded up around his fist, all the breath and fussed-up importance spilling out of him in a loud, low whoosh of air. With a light push, the man tipped over and slid off Quay's arm to land with a heavy thump. Quay leaned over him.

[color=Tan]"Word of advice for you, boy,"[/color] Gray said. [color=Tan]"You open a door. I hold the future of this nation in my hand."[/color] The man groaned. Quay decided to take it as agreement. [color=Tan]"For the record, I hold the rank of Commander. 'Sir' works just as well."[/color] It was a petty thing to do, but he felt better for it. Quay straightened, twitched the seams of his doublet again - more out of habit than need - and strode forward into the hall.

When Quay had last visited the town of Galena, Lord Galeni had been a believer in the power of intimidation, and division of power. His court was the ultimate expression of that belief. Appellant citizens were forced to walk a long, slow gauntlet under the gaze of guards and courtiers. The former were a stern and forbidding reminder of the lord's power over them, while the latter were there at the lord's invitation, willing players in a game to see who could win the most from his favour. Sons and daughters of the four northern lords, representatives of the lord's support on the far side of the Torin Ranges vied with the elite of the south against his father. 

Quay would have had truck with none of it, save for the fact that fifteen years ago, when his mother died, Galeni forced his father to walk that gauntlet for the epidemic. As he did, he had marked the men and women on the sidelines. Some he had known, others he had found by his own means. Some of them still hung unanswered in his memory, their names and the part they played in his life a mystery waiting to be solved. He had told himself that someday he would work it all out - that someone would be held to account - but the sight that waited beyond the great doors made him forget all notion of revenge.

Galeni's court was a shadow. The hall was still laid out in the same way, with long benches down the sides giving way to richer seats set in rows up near the throne. Vast hangings covered the windows and hung from the ceiling, great banners in the deep red of the Royal house, trembling as the disturbed currents of air swirled up around them. For all that had been left the same, the emptiness and the darkness made it feel less like the mining hub of the Kingdom, and more like a tomb. Aside from Lord Galeni himself and a handful of guards, there was no-one else; no traders, no advisers, no tablets or stewards. No court of any kind. Quay had expected the low murmur of surprise to mark his appearance. Instead, he was met by silence. Whatever Lord Galeni wanted from him, he wanted no audience to bear witness to it. As he walked towards the throne, the heels of Quay's dress boots echoed uncomfortably on the stone floor. With every step and lifting echo, a sense of deep unease settled heavier on him. Something was wrong, and it troubled Quay that he'd seen or heard nothing of it until he'd walked through the giant doors to the court.

Lord Galeni stood at Quay's approach. He looked older than Quay expected. Still tall and imposing, with a craggy, expressive face that sat under a thundercloud in the half-light, he looked weaker, more haggard. It was the way he stood, more than anything else. As Quay reached the throne, the Lord sagged inward, a release of tension, as if relieved that Quay had finally arrived. Galeni had become the supplicant in his own hall. Unsure of what to do, Quay decided to take to heart the lesson he'd just given the steward. Stick to what you know. He went down on one knee and lowered his head. Something in his leg creaked in protest, but he ignored it.

"Welcome, Crown Prince of Eldan," the king said.

[color=Tan]"My lord."[/color] Gray stood. [color=Tan]"It's been a long time since anyone called me that."[/color]He tried to keep the bitter memory of his predecessors death from sounding in his voice.

"It's your birthright Quay." Galeni held out a wallet, the mark of rank and his royal seal set on the face of it. "I'm giving this to you."

Quay took the token and bowed his head in acknowledgement. The High Commander's mark was light, but his hand still trembled at the weight of it. Galeni wouldn't return his predecessors rank to him without a reason. He wanted something, and Quay steeled himself to hear what price the lord would demand in return, why he really was forced to run away from Eldan.

"Tell me," Galeni said, "how things are back in Eldan."

A shadow passed over the Prince's face upon the memory of his last days back home. The moment he received the news that the very man that he stood before now, retracted his vote to defend the Ionians despite Quay made his report.

[color=Tan]"Uneasy, sire. Things are tense in the capital."[/color]

"Why is that?"

[color=Tan]"Slick lads, been playing the system. Fathers losing his credibility, smugglers been taking thier chances with the Axim to the north. Fresh lads hitting the south, the sort who don't know when to lie down and be quiet."[/color] Quay popped a knuckle on his sword hand, and as he did it remembered how the same sound had been enough to spook a smuggler out from cover, a technique thought to him by his teachers. After the fight, Quay had taken a closer look at him. The boy had barely made it into his teens. Months later, it still gnawed at Quay's conscience.

"I wonder..." Galeni sank back on his throne, distracted, talking to himself. Quay waited while he ruminated. Eventually, the king looked up. "How many have you questioned? Why are their habits changing?"

[color=Tan]"Questioned?"[/color] Quay glanced down at his feet. Out in the field, it was rare to take a prisoner. Smugglers knew that capture was a death sentence, so they tended to go down fighting. Those that lived were executed on the spot. It wasn't the sort of ground you could march a prisoner over. [color=Tan]"We don't question them, sire."[/color]

Galeni stared at him as if Quay had just offered up an insult. After a long moment, he blinked rapidly,  recovering himself. "What of the Axim? What are they doing?"

[color=Tan]"Two Ionian vassals on the northeastern borders have fallen to thier might within days."[/color]

"So quickly?"

[color=Tan]"They've doubled the guard on our borders with Ionia also. More than half our traders are getting turned back when they try to cross."[/color] The Axim planed to starve Ionia of any assistance from the east, which meant Elden needed to act fast to picket a possible blockade. Unfortunately, that was unlikely to happen. 

"And you think that number will rise?"

Quay nodded. [color=Tan]"They'll start turning everyone back soon enough, we need to act."[/color]

"Are they getting ready to invade?"

[color=Tan]"I can't say. We can't find an army to suggest it. I've had a few men slip across the border to search for their camps, their supply train, any sign of them at all. There's nothing out there. The Axim focus thier mind on the Ionians for now."[/color] 

Galeni shook his head and was silent for a long time. Quay could see him thinking, the heavy brows furrowed together, his eyes lost in shadow. "What of your fathers treaty? Does it still stand?"

[color=Tan]"Sire?"[/color]

"Are we still required to come to Ionia's aid?"

[color=Tan]"Of course, it is out duty, if we don't Ionia could fall by Axim's hand within months. That would leave us little time before the Axim turn to us."[/color]

"If we join in, the Axim could declare war on us immediately, they have the manpower."

Quay considered it. [color=Tan]"It's unlikely, but its a possibility. Taking Ionia would make a better crossing point due to the mountain range that divides our borders.  Its gives them the means to establish a stronger foothold, and that would mean invasion."[/color]

Galeni absorbed the thought in silence. While he waited, Quay started putting together a rough plan to assist Ionia without instigating war. Unfortunately, the Families had other plans. The reason Quay was to sneak out of Eldan was because his fathers fall was intimate. The Families owned the many mines in the mountain ranges and essentially supplied all of Elden. With thier extensive supply and ownership, a coalition of Families could grip his fathers balls at any time, and that they did. Together thier power and influence surpassed that of the King's, and with a little bit of slander mixed in, credibility was going down the drain. The lord's offhand questions had given him the kick he needed to take the initiative. Even rotting in his hall, some of Galeni's old insight remained. A surge of impatience welled up through Quay, and he stifled the urge to fidget as he waited for the Lord to order him to Ionia.

"Thank you for your report, Prince," Galeni said, straightening up. "Take Captain Dawson and his division to the Capital of Ionia."

[color=Tan]"Lord, Dawson commands cavalry."[/color]

"I am aware of that, Commander."

[color=Tan]"Then you realise that the second they step onto the Permafrost, those four-legged bastards they ride are going to sink like stones. Any man that tries to walk on that terrain won't take more than three steps before he falls, and when he falls, he won't be getting up, especially in the dead of winter."[/color]

"They move quickly over dry ground, Prince. Quicker than your men can run. We only need them to sit there and watch anyway, they will see no combat."

Quay ground his teeth. In battle it would never work. With no room to turn, no space to flank or withdraw, the Axim could simply line the Permafrost with pikemen and let the cavalry run at them. It would be a massacre, pointless and quick. It didn't matter anyway, Quay was smart enough to realize what this was about. Because of the treaty, Elden was required to run to Ionia's aid in times of distress, but the Families voted against mobilizing upon his fathers decree, most likely due to the monetary value of supplying Ionia's army with Eldan bronze. So to comply with the treaty, a stand-in was being sent to the Capital, away from the fighting, to fulfil thier end of the treaty cheakly [color=Tan]You're going to leave the Ionians to fend for themselves?"[/color]

Lord Galeni turned his full gaze on him. Quay had been wrong to think he looked old. Those eyes, deep and dark and heavy with pain, were something entirely different. They looked ancient. "The Ionians are not of the Families concern." As the Lord spoke, Quay felt something shift. For years he'd clung to the bitter monument of his hatred, the thought that whatever happened, he would never respect the Galeni Family again. All it had taken was one softly-spoken sentence for that monument to crack under him.

"You are dismissed."