[center] [h1][u][b]Blood's Jewels[/b][/u][/h1] [h2][u][i]“Terreille in Trouble”[/i][/u][/h2] [/center] [hr] [@nohbdies] The two lads sat in the chair. Beneth looking like a sack of grain, Larin moving with wooden and choppy motions as Artemis helped him sit down. Pressing the heels of his hands into his red rimmed eyes, the archer gave a small shake of his head. "Don't know." He answered roughly as Artemis peered out her door before shutting it. "Didn't stick about. Don't stick about." The white jeweled Warlord advised the Healer, an unspoken apology in the dark green eyes and too pale face. Both of the young Warlords' hands were shaking as they came down from the adrenaline high. Larin glanced at the covered Hyallian only too look away. A greenish twinge coming over his face. Beneth nodded weakly. "That one-" His eyes glanced towards the still figure. "He killed our father. Was comin' after us. But we got him decently. Chance the game of cat and mouse." The sentences were jumbled, a roughness to his speech speaking of the terrors the boy had seen, and the shock he was going through. Not to mention grief if their father had really died. Returned to be but a Whisper in the Darkness. Vaclav was not so wounded as to be still unconscious. In fact he was quiet able to hear the word of Larin and his brother. Compared to what had happened here, the tales of what must be happening in Greyhaven were horrendous. [@eclecticwitch] The Master of the Guard gave a predatory growl deep in his throat as Fatima ordered him to wait and bide his time. Waiting for their people to be stronger. This made the Court shift anxiously. They were far older than Fatima in general, and they highly doubted there would be any [i]'thriving'[/i] for this village. Durik, for one, was moving into his twilight years. The grey of his black hair showing in threads here and there. The Steward had seen the rise of Dorothea and had not opposed the woman, ensuring his own safety in fact, as well as those of his brother's family. That said brother was buried in some unknown grave, having been a tool in a game between queens. A pawn that had been sacrificed. His nephews had too been pressed into joining the Courts, despite Durik's best efforts. His sister-in-law and her daughter had been plucked away powerful Warlord Princes. The Steward didn't bother to think upon their fate, it was an unwelcome thought and only served to weigh him down with guilt. Wrapping a strong arm about Fatima's waist, Beneth gave Hynter a sneer. The other Summer-Sky Warlord looking away as to avoid a fight with the Opal Warlord Prince. Heaving a sigh of relief Durik looked over the books Fatima had procured. These were battered copies, but the idea was a decent one. "The problem also lies with the fact the land is [i]dry[/i]." It was not Durik who spoke, but his second- and soon to be replacement- Garren. The Preist was a quiet sort, with a long face and longer limbs. Looking enough like a crane that his White jewel was nearly over looked. While he was not a powerhouse, Garren was clever and could keep a book nearly as well as the aged Durik. "[i]Drained.[/i]" The man stressed, his hands emphasizing his point. "We can plant and grow, and try all we like. Let our land heal, and our neighbors will come in and take it." The soft voice was bitter, with good reason. Garren had suffered under Fatima's mother. Often being sent off to appease the neighbors. Neighbors he now loathed. Durik nodded in reluctant agreement. "He has a valid point, Lady." The Steward said carefully. "But these beans will help, and the mine can be staffed by those- relocating- from other villages." Beneth was shaking his head, but Durik already had a counter to the worry of a threat slipping in. "Several of our folk have moved away to find only ill. What harm would there be in welcoming them back? Surely it would curry good will?" It was the second eldest of the group, Jassen, who rubbed a hand through his own slightly grey locks. "If only we could consult the tangled webs." His cheeks were red and blotchy from drink as his words bordered on outright treason as he spoke of how the Black Widows looked into the void of time. Jassen had become a drunk in the past years, attesting a relationship at least on his end.