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[h1][u][b]Blood's Jewels[/b][/u][/h1]
[h2][u][i]“Terreille in Trouble”[/i][/u][/h2]
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The old Steward of Eldan looked grimly at the other men seated about the table, his hands clasped tightly beneath. Beneth and Jassen had been found on the border to Askavi looking like hell and certain that they had escorted the Queen thus far and then had been ordered to turn back. Had the Grey Jewel Queen been snared by some Black Widow, or had she fled leaving the village to it's fate? If it was the later perhaps it was for the better of all things. The District Queen was coming for a visit to see the prosperous influence that was aiding Eldan. The villagers were slowly slipping away. Claiming to visit relatives or being needed elsewhere. For all they did trust the Court, they knew the Court could do little against Queen Russa. The woman was a older witch wearing the Opal and had a taste for the prancing of young men. She also was known for waging her Court in mimicking battles of 'show' against another Queen to gain territory and add to her lavish lifestyle. For all his age, even Durik was worried about the visit. He was not a young man and would do no good as a fighter. Hynter had claimed his need to visit family due to an illness. A thin lie, but Durik had held off sending the man away.

They would need to present a full Court and they would need to find a Queen. If they were found or thought to be ruling a village without that female hand? The consequences would be severe. Men had been skin for daring to step up to a 'Queen's' position. Yet, perhaps it was because of this the Court sat about the meeting room's table as they hand days ago. Sweating slightly as they felt the very real threat of being in the room with a very dangerous predator. Finally fed up with things, Lynol a Prince of the Purple-Dusk spoke up sounding meek despite his irritation. "Our situation is quiet dire. What do you think you could do to help us?"

"And what is the payment?" Hynter growled irritated at the fact his petition to join his family had been deny and his life put in peril for this. Two of the other males had rushed away the minute Jassen and Beneth came back. Making sure their lives would not be part of the faux Court, one had run straight to the neighboring Queen, Tabithi a Tiger-eye village Queen. She was the granddaughter of Russa and twice as cunning as her grandmother.

The man sitting at the head of the table, crossed one knee over the other as he steepled his fingers before him. A fleeting looking of amusement crossing cold, golden eyes. [color=Gold]"I want to know where your Queen went."[/color] Saetan spoke with a croon that chilled men's hearts. [color=Gold]"So you see the payment is not overly high."[/color] Durik wanted to counter that with the fact that [i]was[/i] a high price. They had spent most of Fatima's life hiding her from the world. That this man was looking for her? The pet of Dorothea? Oh, he wouldn't tell the Warlord Prince that. He didn't have a death wish. [color=Gold]"As for how I can help you... Russa is a childless bitch."[/color] The Steward shruddered at the cold smile that had frozen the tea in his cup to a block. Everyone knew what happened when you walked on the bad side of a Warlord Prince's temper, but when the man wore the Black? It would be so much worse. But the truly terrifying though was that they had utterly no choice.

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The Warlord Prince brother shifted and answered in Gen's place as the Warlord had gone back into the kitchen. "It is not a threat, Prince." Denar stated firmly, though he looked nervous about challenging a Ebon-Grey Eyrien. He wore only the Rose after all. Giving Vaclav a slightly apologetic look the youngest of the Saroth brothers continued to explain. "It is for the protection of the Lady. A precaution what with all the trouble brewing about because of those sleek Hyallians." Belor nodding giving a underling look at Fatima before turning his head back to the conversation.

Gen walked back into the dinning room, floating a platter of eggs, steak and biscuits with Craft before letting them settle onto the table. [color=FireBrick]"If you wish to take that fight with someone. Then go wake up Faeril and issue that challenge to her."[/color] The Warlord stated firmly as he set a kettle of coffee on the sideboard. The rough smell of it would make toes curls and hair split. While Gen could cook, Faeril was the better brewer and coffee maker, though the oldest Saroth brother would never admit it. [color=FireBrick]"I'm not one for insulting, but I'd like to keep my skin on my back. Faeril can be..."[/color]

"Vicious." "Vindictive." "Terrifying." "Furious." "Ruthless." The other two brothers chipped in as they eat took a plate and eagerly filled it.

[color=FireBrick]"A witch."[/color] Gen finished with a glower at his siblings. [color=FireBrick]"With the temper of a Harpy."[/color] Harpies were witches who were killed generally violently and usually by a male's hand. They were but legends of what happened to the dead. Just like the demon-dead and Hell. They were stories used to scare children at night though there was the odd tale or two of those who had become demon-dead on the battle field. Fighting so hard, they didn't notice they were dead and instead kept on that killing field.