[b]Monavdu, Aylsfyn[/b]

With polite bows Skulding and Veada excused themselves from their king's side. Leaving the lightly built man to his own devices as he continued to recline in comfort in the shade of the overhang. The weather was fair and warm, and he saw no reason to abandon the feeling for the stifled interior of the castle. If there was any man that sought the need to make direct counsel with him it would be overlooking the pearl city and bright blue city. It was his world here. Gull song and the distant beating of drill drums were a soft dream song.

Pulling aside a serving woman, he summoned for paper before excusing the lot to his thoughts. With the young fair ladies gone the king set his scroll on the ground and rolled onto his back. His body felt tired and weak, an effect of the affliction his physicians promised was minor. It was a worm they promised, and it needed only to be starved out. To feast only on bread and wine until the day it decides to evacuate.

Though a diet of bread and wine was a modest thing that made for good talk, it did leave him hungry.

The moments passed by with the thrumming of the distant waves and the ceaseless drilling below. It was all a dream, and he was warm. Diet catching up, he closed his eyes to nap.

He lay on his couch, restless and alone for the better part of ten minutes. Not a servant approached him or disturbed him without his request. It felt good to sleep.

“My lord.” a soft feminine voice said, stirring the man from his nap. The frail inquisitor king sat up, looking down with the door with a expression of mixed bitter anger, and an impatient curiosity. His chest was already hot with bitterness, but cooled and dulled.

Standing by the entrance to the large stone porch was his wife. A long tall woman. He held in her hands a think stack of parchment. A bottle of ink and a quill in her hand. Her smile was soft and warm as she stood in the door.

Malius sat up from his recliner and sighed in relief. His smile was a warm one as she walked to the table with the materials. It was a wonder that for the twenty-six years they had been wedded and through two children she looked the same as the day they were introduced. Her long dark hair tied in a bun behind her head. Skin soft, she and her parents kissed by the sun. Dark brown eyes stared in his blue eyes with the sort of light shared by the same bed for the greater part of their life.

He had been sixteen when they wed, and she twelve. It was a political affair, like many others. And it sired two heirs for the both of them.

“I heard you needed paper.” she said, her voice was a song to him and he felt better for having been interrupted by her and no one else.

“I did.” Malius groaned, “I have an order I must write, and a warning to dispatch.”

“I would ask who it is.” she said softly, “But it's probably for the best I do not.”

“Likely.” he said. There was no lack of trust between them, and both trusted the other with their secrets. But all the same both through their twenty years had learned to recognize what one needed the other to know, or what would be the best to keep in their own circles. Though the actions of Malius would inevitably come to be public, it rarely ever spoiled the unspoken understanding.

“Your color has returned.” his wife commented, sliding next to him. Gently placing a finger under his chin she lifted his head up to get a good look at him. He was still sunken and tired, and plain as ever. “Maybe you can start actually eating again.” she said with a hopeful smile, “No more bread or herb water.”

“You know as well as I do Engela that it will need to wait until the surgeons see me next.” said Malius.

“I say damn the surgeons.” she laughed, “You're looking fine, the worm must be on its way out.”

“If it was I am told I would know.” Malius commented, with a hand she pushed her hand from him and leaed over the paper.

“Have you heard the wishes of your son Bern?” Engela asked suddenly. Her husband deep in writing the arrest warrant of the Bjorni lads. The scroll he had set aside reopened to present the list of names and evidence for the warrant.

“I'm afraid not.” Malius replied, looking to the old scroll with an emotionless expression, “Has the boy picked his teacher?”

Engela nodded, “He expects that he should go under the tutelage of the Prince Haalenstern.” she said.

Malius was silent as he wrote. His lips unmoving as the hawk-feather quill scribbled along the page declaring his order, “No.” he said suddenly. Stopping to turn to his wife.

“As much as I respect Haalenstern for his abilities I do not think it'll be safe to put Bern in the guardianship of a foreign house.” the words came on a deep sigh, “Even if said house has a member of their own on our soil. He may perhaps enjoy discussion with the the Haalenstern prince if it suits him. But I do not feel that he should be his tutor.”

“Then who would you have teach him if not Theodocis?”

“I was thinking lord Wen of Westshjore. He is as good a man as any, and he has sons his own age. It would be healthy for him.”

“Lord Wen?” Engela said shocked, “But is he not stricken with Deadflesh?”

“He is, which is why I feel for his own justice he gets to teach as much he knows upon some other before he goes. I still recognize him as a master of coin. And as I have seen of him the physicians have ordered his guard to not lay a hand on any living person to risk spreading his curse. And a silk veil keeps his breath to himself. There will be no danger, he can still sit upon his throne and is an intelligible man.

“And he has many old war stories as a privateer. I do not doubt it will keep Bern satisfied.”