[b]Damarskan, The House of Lords[/b]

Jaesyn stared across the Council chamber at a guttering candle, a bored expression on his long, dark face. One could imagine that he found the dying candle more interesting than what was currently being discussed. He drifted in and out of the conversation, sometimes drumming his elegant gloved fingers on the glossy table-top. Every few minutes, he would shift in the uncomfortable wood and leather chair, leaning on an elbow and placing his chin on his palm, smoothing out the wrinkles in his new silk tunic, or rubbing sleep-robbed eyes. The candle finally winked out with a tiny, almost embarrassed wisp of smoke, and he sighed, turning enthusiastically back to the matter at hand.

Thirteen men sat behind a long table, in twelve large but simple wood and leather chairs (Some draped with furs) and a gorgeous throne of lacquered, gilded wood with a cushioned seat and arms. The walls were built of solid slabs of old, rough granite, blackened by generations of smoke from torches and candles; to the left and right they were hung with tattered banners, broken shields, rusted swords, and other trophies of past victories. Behind the councilors hung three banners; a massive red, gold, and black banner proudly displaying the flame-burst, sword, and eagle of Ordov was in the middle, flanked by two banners of pure white trimmed in shimmering cloth of gold. On the floor were many fine rugs, worn by the tread of thousands of feet. The table itself was worn and bare, with a simple red cloth thrown over it; an ordinary fare of wine, bread, and cheese was spread atop it.

Sitting in the grand throne was Tia'Gevor Karnak del'Vemeron, high king of the Dominion. Sixteen years old, Karnak was a tall and slender boy with violet eyes and ash blond hair, rakishly dressed in a black leather vest over a long-sleeved red satin tunic trimmed with gold and red leggings tucked into gold-tooled black leather boots; around his waist a black belt was cinched, its golden buckles studded with rubies and black diamond. Sitting on his brow was a simple circlet of the finest steel, plain an unadorned save a single ancient Ordovin rune. The Tia'Gevor was the only armed man in the room, aside from the guards, an elegant saber hanging at his side. Occasionally, he tapped the pommel of this sword when irritated, which seemed to be growing more and more common.

To the Tia'Gevor's right sat Urrag vel'Meskemos, a middle-aged man built like an ox. Dark blue eyes glowered out of a face that seemed to carved from stone by some savage god. His head was shaved, though his brick of a jaw was concealed by a thick scrub of black beared streaked with gray. All knew the Grand Marshall to be a heartless and brutal man, a stern judge of character able to spot the weakness in any foe. And everyone in the Dominion understood that this general was the true ruler of the nation, he and the Tausar'Luysi, not the stripling beside him. It was Urrag who heard and answered most of the greivances brought before the Council. 

One by one, lords great and small, rich and poor, they brought their issues and reports to the Grand Marshall. Occasionally, Urrag would turn to Karnak and quietly, politely, ask him is opinion or for assent on some matter. The Tia'Gevor would usually nod brusquely, or mutter some compliance. At one point he glared venomously at the Grand Marshall and said nothing, but Urrag did not seem to notice or care, simply taking the attention as agreement and turning back to the ghekhav with whom he spoke. Finally, Urrag nodded to the Seneschal, who banged his staff on the stone floor. "Court is adjourned for today!" he cried in a ringing voice. "If your matters have been resolved satisfactorily, you may return next week." There was some grumbling, but the remaining folk who had not even had their cases heard yet left the hall.

When all was quiet once more, Urrag beckoned to one of the Marshals. The man, Reichyn ne'Skamos, reached under his chair and pulled out a large vellum roll. He laid it on the table and unfurled it. One corner kept trying to curl back in on itself, so the Keeper of the Keys, Malek ne'Torem, set his wine goblet down on top of it. Displayed on the rich vellum was a map of the Vale of Ordov and the immediately surrounding regions, perhaps a hundred leages beyond every border. "Let us discuss the summer campaign," Urrag said in his rumbling, gravelly tones. There were nods from the Grand Admiral and seven of the nine Marshalls. Karnak, Malek, Jaesyn, and the Marshall Revek ne'Hulik seemed disinterested.

"Most of you seem in favor of marching on the easterlands once the spring floods have subsided. We would sack the realms of Geir, Russk, and Starig, put their people to the sword or the chain and add their lands to ours so that we might have more room to settle our people." Four of the Marshalls and the Grand Admiral nodded. "Some would have us march north along the coast and topple the castle of traitor Taelyc, who grants himself the royal style del'Krasymos." Stern nods from the Grand Admiral and nearly all the Marshalls, save Jaesyn and Revek. "Why?" Revek proclaimed, now sitting up straight and looking annoyed. He was a very handsome man, richly dressed and sporting many precious stones on his neck and hands. "These are Ordovin folk we speak of, fellow countrymen of mountain and Vale." Urrag gave him a cool look.

"The Dominion must expand to meet the needs of its rapidly growing population," he explained, very slowly as if to a young child. "And they are traitors. The ghekhav of the east should have bent the knee to the Tia'Gevor, or their households should have overthrown and abandoned them." There were many fervent nods of assent, though some looked forced. "And Taelyc dare name himself Gevor," added the pious and pompous Marshall Andros vel'Orbansk, possibly the richest man in the room though his clothing was stained with grease and wine. "His folk follow the Old Way, embracing the darkness when they could -- and should!! -- follow the Light!" Several Marshalls pounded their fists on the table, shouting in martial agreement as if to say they should march then and there. Revek held his hands up for silence, and his fellow Marshalls slowly, reluctantly, fell quiet.

Revek stood and looked around, brow furrowed. "We should be securing the future of the Dominion economically, not through military might. The army has already swollen to such a size that it is difficult to outfit and train them all in the national manner that you wish, and your aznvuygun have bankrupted the treasury, Urrag." The Grand Marshall remained stoic, calmly watching the younger man. For once, Karnak seemed very interested in the proceedings; he leaned forward in his chair, staring intently at Revek. Jaesyn sighed and shook his head. This idiot was going to get them killed. "I say that the reannexation of the eastern territories is uneccessarry," Revek went on. "The Geirlish are our best trade partners in horseflesh, the Starigmen guard the headwaters of the River Rann, from which much of our gold flows."

"All the more reason to make them ours!" spoke up Kas vo'Eadwyn, the ancient and eternally angry representative Marshall of the northern clans. While stoop-backed and gnarled as an old oak, he was still strong, and filled the chamber with his angry shouts. "Why should we trade for that which we could own? And as Urrag said, these are traitors, malcontents waiting to happen. The other ghekhav will look at these men and think we are weak, and they can do as they please. We should burn Taelyc's estates to the ground and sow his lands with salt as an example, and then march east." Several of the other Marshalls began to speak up until they were nearly shouting over each other. Jaesyn rolled his eyes and laughed under his breath, slouching down in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. Revek sat back down next to him, looking utterly nonplussed.

"Idiots," Revek said, completely disbelievingly. "Total and utter idiots. We should be securing silver and iron mines with our neighbors, or building new ships to begin trading overseas. At the very least, if we're going to make war, it should be against the Vydari, not fellow Ordovin." Urrag's eyes met Revek's for a split second, holding him there. Revek felt naked underneath that cold, iron-hard stare. Then the moment passed. Urrag turned away and nodded towards the Seneschal. His iron-shod staff banged on the ground several times, piercing through the conversation and bringing it to a halt. Everyone turned to look at the Grand Marshall as Urrag stood, impassive. "We shall put it to a vote," he said calmly.

"Shall we march north on the traitor Taelyc del'Krasymos and put his lands to the torch?" There was a chorus of ayes from Andros, Kas, Reichyn, Tadeos, and Haykaser, and the Grand Marshall himself added a quiet aye when they were silent. "Or shall we hold off on the summer campaign against our neighbors and persue non-military interests?" Karo, Ishkhan, and the Grand Admiral all murmured ayes, Martiros in particular looking rather uncomfortable. Revek was louder. "Aye suppose so," quipped Jaesyn, earning himself a glare from his friend. Malek leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, signalling his wish to abstain. "The vote stands at twelve for war and seven for trade," the Seneschal proclaimed, and looked towards the Tia'Gevor. Two by two, each pair of eyes in the room turned towards him.

Urrag looked expectantly down at the young high king, his face completely neutral, but his eyes were hard and cruel. Karnak stared at him for a few seconds, then turned to Revek and Jaesyn. "So...who do you think would make good trade partners?"