Having respectfully left her brother and Valeran to smooth over their earlier tussle, Danica watches as the two men clasp hands and appear to come to an understanding.
Assuming that now is her best chance to meet with a more approachable version of the young lord, she spurs her horse forward to take the position her brother once held.
Glancing over at Valeran, having to look up in his direction while mounted upon his impressive mount, she forgoes any sort of introduction and simply breaks the silence. “I’m sure you’re tired of apologizing, so I’ll just assume you’ve crafted up a good one and accept it graciously.”
Showing a bit of mischief in her eyes that never seems to go away, she continues. “Unless you're primed for another session of shouting, I’d enjoy bending your ear for a while.” Raising an eyebrow, not truly knowing what answer to expect, she waits.
—
“I will assume your needling is an early sign of clemency,” speaks Valeran in a velvety response. “Though I stand by… most of the message, the manner of its conveyance was unbecoming.” He gives the statement its due moment in time.
“Accepting that,” he begins again, twisting toward her in the saddle, “may I ask why? You happily stated that it was a game you were playing out over weeks. I won’t flatter myself by suggesting I would have behaved better if you had simply asked sooner. But if it had been, say, a bucket of flammable monster slime, would you still be satisfied?”
—
Letting a faint smile move across her lips at the somewhat humorous suggestion, she tilts her head to the side and produces a small shrug. “Well, first I would have truly questioned everyone’s sanity, since it clearly was something you all were concerned about.” Letting out an amused huff through her nose, she straightens back up and continues. “But, in an attempt to answer your question…”
She pauses for a moment, her eyes shifting away from Valeran’s and returning to the road in front of her. Staring off at some unknown source of knowledge, she carefully finishes her response. “I despise being passive. Being told to behave, to wait, to obey. It’s a leash they’ve been trying to throw on me my entire life, and I’ve grown rather accustomed to slipping free.” Returning her gaze to the mounted man beside her. “So when I set off with my brother, I hoped the world would be different, but I just find myself being told what to do, where to sit, and how to behave.”
—
“I believe I can understand.” The lord nods slowly. “I knew since I was a boy I would take up the mantle of our house. That adornment needs some mending, but back then I assumed being lord and leader would give my words weight. Of course that isn’t the whole truth, saying it out loud now. But on top of everything our party has already been through, remembering to behave nobly while a cross section of Asmiliath’s peoples impose on our path?”
A mildly manic grin spreads on his face as Valeran again grows animated, though nothing like the previous incidents.
“Corporal Hamhock, the head of the day shift guards, simply must know what is in the box. He has dominion of these fifteen feet! All must yield to his discerning eye—the one that is not crossed. But how to keep your appointments after trying to explain it is the dormant earthly rib-rack of the god of death, who has deserted his celestial post to instead destroy all we know? And once Hamhock is duly informed, will he clear our way to his master, or at least let us know his hopes for the next harvest festival go with us?” He rolls his eyes and exhales through his teeth. “The lessons father tried to impart are complex; being lord,” he gestures to Danica, “or otherwise prominent in society has many contradictions. But I confess, sometimes it feels less absurd to whip the cattle until they move. Even the ox with a nose ring of gold.”
He shakes his head, and perhaps remembers the original point.
“I should have known better than to let you, or Lady Genevieve, be caught up in my angst,” he wastes no more time concluding. “Perhaps I could have just explained that the danger is real, and though none are safe, you are closer to it. Sleeping on top of it, even.”
—
Quietly observing Valeran from her saddle, her eyebrows raising slightly at his first subtle comment, she lets out a bit of stifled glee as he fully commits to an entire rant of his frustrations. Though Danica was not known to be dower, it had been some time since anyone in the party had seen such a genuine look of enjoyment cross her face.
While the lord is deliberating on his next point, she lets out a soft laugh through her nose and slides in a comment. “Perhaps we should hang Corporal Hamhock from his toes then…”
Holding her tongue to listen intently to his next comment, her enjoyment fades as a more serious look overtakes her delicate features. Leveling out her tone in hopes of being taken at face value, she replies. “Let me? Let your sister? Lord Athelvane, while you may be lord of Capolmont, I think sometimes you need reminding that you’re not lord of the world.” Pausing to let out a somewhat exhausted sigh, she continues. “You uselessly pile all these responsibilities on your conscience that aren’t your burden to bear. You act as if everybody’s lives are dictated by your approval or dismissal.” Sitting up in her sattle, clearly having had this thought for quite a long time, she shoots a weighty gaze into Valeran. “You’re a man. A sometimes funny, but usually dull man. Don’t let your aspirations cripple your humanity.”
Seemingly content on matching his light hearted rant with a more impactful one, she settles back into her seat and hopes it’s taken well.
—-
“The lord of all men,” he softly repeats with a nonchalant chortle. “I was referring to having lost my temper. Perhaps that can be mine for today?” Enjoying a chance for a sliver of high ground at last, he thumbs back at the caravan. “Oh, and the wagon you’ve been playing in, facts being facts. I ordered it. I take credit for the crest as well. But I had imagined a deer at first.”
Valeran savors a pull from his waterskin—the actual contents being a little more interesting—and hesitates before holding it up for Danica.
“Nevermind me or your brother. You should marry Lady Genevieve. You could laugh and agree until they sang drinking songs about the merry ladies of the big house." His posture opens and he calls over his shoulder, "What would that bawdy tune be Jer-“
—
Growing a look that hinted towards a coming snide remark, Danica’s eyes narrowed at the strange cut before slowly realizing what had occurred.
Still not fully aware of the events surrounding Jerak’s passing, but having heard several somewhat conflicting stories, she shakes her head once more and lets her rant lay in its grave.
Looking over at Valeran again, giving that same determined but unspoken look that craved a genuine middleground, she slowly cuts off the silence. “He might be gone because of you, but I assure you, it’s not an event you should regret. From what I understand, he chose his path to allow you all to continue. That’s not something to look back on with regret…”
—
“He is gone because of Ziggureth. And Novin,” Valeran insists, but gently, forlorn. He shrugs one arm. “Silly of me. Shouldn’t be so easy to forget,” he says quickly.
“Nevermind, I had something else to talk to you about. If I didn’t make it clear before, I intend to lay one responsibility on you.” He begins staring into the distance ahead. “When we eventually come to the capitol, I hope you and your brother will represent Liamas and convey your country’s commitment to the queen. There is no doubt of Decker’s many skills, but I believe you could have a special talent for discourse.” The count gives Danica a reassuring and expectant smile.
“We will take a winding route, there is still quite some time before then. If you agree, there is plenty of opportunity to instruct you in a few small particulars of Folkish etiquette. You can be fully confident.”
—
Letting the topic of Jerak rest, at least enjoying that you led this conversation with a more muted demeanor than the last one you’d had, she listens to your intentions and ponders on them for a few silent seconds.
Tilting her head to the side, her eyes shrinking slightly as a bit of sun attempts to pry into them, she begins with a bit of uncertainty. “I try to keep the common people’s best interests in mind with all my decisions, so I’m certainly not opposed to steering some political snobs…” Pausing, she looks even more unsure as she speaks more openly, rather than directly to Valeran. “Though… Who’s to say that uniting Liamas and Folke is ultimately right? It will certainly only anger the empire… Most likely put us on a road to war…”
Trailing off, she shakes her head a bit to clear her mind before wrapping up her response. “I wouldn’t be opposed on being directed on how to properly place a stick up my ass, but I’m not going to your Queen with your agenda.”
—
“My agenda?” Valerian frowns deeply. “I thought it was self-evident by now. We are not on a road to war. It has begun.” He squints, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb before talking with his hand. “I want to expand on the coalition Duke Bron was forming. Combine the effort of Folke, Liamas, and Gyles to thwart Torodan and keep the Empire in check. They are already marching, and we can be sure Novin is carefully spreading fear, uncertainty, and doubt,” he entreats. “The alternative is Folke may be swayed back to its Imperial cousins, Gyles will be surrounded, and Liamas will be alone as the land fractures and Torodan’s way is prepared. Destruction will rain everywhere, starting with the common people.”
—
Rolling her eyes as the tail end of Valeran’s message ends with doom and gloom, she again holds her tongue and tries to explain her mind, though expects it to fall mostly flat.
“Valeran, I’m no military expert, but I know that combined southern Asmiliath’s fighting force struggles to match the imperial legions.” Swinging her arms in a wide circle to help emphasize her point. “If you build up this massive front against the empire, how in the creator’s grace do you expect to also fight Torodan?” Uncertain if her point has been made, she points out the alternative.
“If your goal really is to gather an opposition for the doom facing us all, then why not urge people into the empire? Unite them, instead of guaranteeing we all die on each other’s swords?”
—
"Bold. And what I might well try if I thought it would work. But we have only recently obtained commitment from King Hunfor, and that was after an important city was devastated by Novin. I will make the case to every power if I have the opportunity, but they will be skeptical. If I suggest they give up their sovereignty to the Empire? They will throw us aside. And once Prurid enters open war, no nation of Asmiliath will focus on Torodan."
Valeran leans in, unblinking.
"But if we can slow the Empire's march, keep their war cold, Novin must keep playing cards. The threat will become more apparent. Instead of asking three states to surrender their independence, I will ask one, the Empire, to join an alliance they have already been made to respect."
—
Opening her mouth as if she was going to say more, but thinking better of it as her eyes stare down at the slowly shifting ground. Losing the majority of her usually mischievous expression, looking rather cold, she eventually responds quietly.
“Certainly ambitious. Perhaps you’re the man for the job…” Glancing back towards the caravan behind them, looking over the collection of people that had been brought into this scheme, she finishes. “...perhaps not.”
Clearly in deep thought and appearing done with the conversation she bows her head gently to Valeran. “I appreciate you letting me accept your apology.”
—
Valeran closes his eyes and sighs, then leans in again speaking just for Danica to hear.
“Obviously I have not been at my best, most persuasive or patient. I must find my footing. But I hope you will see it is not mere vanity that keeps the Golden Hearts pressing on." He gathers up the reins in his off hand. "I hope we may talk more soon."
—
