Episode 8: A Taste of Treachery
Previously, on Tales of the Inner Council
After murdering the son of a noble Mahnkii family while protecting Vath'azen's Chief Diplomat and Arbiter - the raven-like Shar'elum Yahri Negdahe - from an angry mob, Lord Davu Pa'lakh, the fox-like Vyrian Grand Marshall of the Ruling Council received an unexpected visit from the now deceased King's aunt, Lady Miahn. The noble lioness advised the Grand Marshall that with her nephew's final decree dissolving the monarchy, the newly declared ruling council needed to establish themselves quickly lest they leave their reputations to the unseen forces of the world.
A short time later, the huge Ja'nakh horse-man known as Haruchi, Captain of the King's Guard – a friend and protégé of the Grand Marshall's – arrived with a hand-written order for Davu's detainment for the murder of the noble boy. It was signed by none other than Lord Negdahe, the very friend he'd saved earlier in the day. The Grand Marshall stormed off to find the Chief Arbiter, the King's Guard close on his heels.
Throne Room, Stoverj Castle
Davu moved through the hallways of Stoverj Castle with fiery purpose. Captain Haruchi and four tall Ja'nakh horse-like men, members of the King's Guard, encircled him. It was not for his protection as one might expect, but for the protection of anyone else that might get in his way. The guards' well-kept armor clinked and clanked as they walked, drawing eyes from the castle's many denizens.
The two guards at the over-sized doors to the throne room moved as if to block the party's entrance, but thought better of it after seeing the scowl on the Grand Marshall's face and a waving off motion from the Captain. Recovering themselves quickly, they pushed the massive doors open with a deep thoom that reverberated through the densely populated throne room. At the back of the room, the heads of exquisitely-dressed Lords and Ladies turned to see the newcomer.
At the front of the great hall, an impeccably dressed dark-skinned human in noble garb, deep blue with extensive golden designs, addressed the room. Davu recognized him as Lord Johari Gannmyer – a silk-tongued, conniving, and opportunistic social climber who often positioned himself as the voice of all humans in Vath'azen. Upon the throne of the late King sat the bruised and swollen black-feathered form of Vath'azen's raven-like Chief Diplomat and Arbiter, Yahri Negdahe.
"What the men and women of the Musalyhaad District want to know immediately, Councilor Negdahe," Lord Gannmyer paced, his back to Yahri and the throne as he grandstanded for the crowd, "is what your new Ruling Council is doing to find these miscreants burning down our homes, our shops, our very livelihood!" From the surrounding circle of nobles came an eruption of agreement from across the Myndikin spectrum - humans, dwarves, and elves alike. "Our beds lie in the ashes of Kynekin outrage, and for what," he accused, "because we are Myndikin? King Ch'luun espoused tolerance and acceptance for all peoples, yet we are being actively persecuted in streets of cities all across Vath’azen."
"Well, Lord Gaanmyer," Yahri cut in quickly but calmly. His scratchy, high-pitched voice carried throughout the room. "It would seem you have me at a loss. I somehow missed any report of the troubles facing the Spice Docks today having spread to your most expansive and impressive home in the Ealybai District. For surely, as concerned as you are, and rightfully so," he mocked, "if your bed was not lying in ashes you would certainly open your doors to the very peoples who are suffering and for whom you claim to care so deeply." Many chuckled at the jab.
"My Lord Arbiter," Gannmyer deflected above the rising murmur of the gathered. "Of course my doors are always open to the citizens of Stoverj. Unlike the rest of this Ruling Council, I, along with you and my fellow Lords and Ladies, am here - in this court - fighting for the needs of the people; not off carousing in the backwater taverns of the Hajbruug District, gallivanting through Karnwood forest, or taking leisurely strolls through the gardens of East Gate." It never ceased to amaze Yahri at how rapidly information moved throughout the court. He’d only just learned about Chodvar and Jenta’s whereabouts in the minutes prior to this gathering, and even then no one seemed to know exactly what they were up to.
From the back of the room, an almost tangible wave of anger pushed through the crowd. Captain Haruchi and his four guardsmen closed tightly around Davu, hoping to minimize placing any of the nobles into the path of the Grand Marshall's short temper. The sea of peacock-garbed nobles parted, with more and more heads turning.
"You ungrateful crow!" Davu yelled to Yahri as his entourage reached Lord Gannmyer at the front of the room. Many of the Kynekin nobility, but especially the bird-like Shar'elum puffed up at the incredibly offensive insult. Captain Haruchi shifted slightly to one side, positioning himself squarely between Davu, the human noble, and the throne.
The Court Historian cleared his throat and announced loudly from the back of the room. “Ruling Councilor Davu Pa’lakh, Grand Marshall of Vath’azen and Kynekin Lord of the Vyrian peoples.”
Without missing a beat, Davu continued. "I should have left you lying there in the street!”
An anvil of deafening silence descended upon all present. Some of the most powerful and influential persons of the Kingdom of Vath'azen, like a circling pack of hungry wolves, watched and waited to see what was about to occur.
Yahri was used to negotiating in stressful situations, but this felt different. The fox-like Vyrian was one of the few people he counted as a friend. He pushed down his nerves and donned the unemotional mask he wore in his daily duties as Chief Arbiter. The sleek, black-feathered Shar'elum squawked slightly in pain as he stood. He took his time, surveying the room with worried eyes, reading the faces of the many nobles both on the floor and in the balconies above. Very suddenly, Yahri became keenly aware of the weight of the Kingdom and his newfound role amongst the Ruling Council.
Knowing he needed to proceed with great caution, both for his own life and the future of the Kingdom, he spoke in a measured cadence. “Grand Marshall,” Yahri nodded, painfully stepping down from the small dais upon which sat the throne. Captain Haruchi tensed, silently preparing for the worst, and praying his mentor Davu could keep his anger in check. “Perhaps it would be best if we adjourned to the inner council chambers to discuss this matter in a less public setting.”
“My Lord Arbiter,” a throaty woman’s voice broke in. All heads turned to the North balcony as a maroon-and-gold clad alligator-like Mahnkii woman with black scales, pushed forward to the railing.
From the back of the room, the Historian interjected. “Lady Bolor Enebish, Kynekin of the Mahnkii peoples.”
"Just hours hence, this... Vyrian... murdered my eldest son," she accused. "I demand to be a part of any discussions around the matter." Yahri sighed, but knew she was well within her rights.
"Of course, your voice will be heard, Lady Enebish," he responded.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Lord Gannmyer inserted himself back into the spotlight. "Then someone should represent Lord Pa'lakh's interests." He stepped toward Davu, but one of the King's Guard moved to intentionally block his path. Not to be deterred, Gannmyer pivoted on heel, his robe flaring out as he continued. "The Grand Marshall was there in Musalyhaad defending not only our Chief Diplomat and Arbiter, but also the lives of many Myndikin peoples. I would graciously offer..."
"...Stuff it, Johari," Davu warned. "I'll not allow a snake like you..."
"...Enough," squawked Yahri loudly, which lost much of its authority due to his naturally high-pitch. He looked to Davu, still maintaining his distance. "The good Lord has a point, Lord Pa'lakh. It would be..." he searched for the least offensive word he could think of. "...wise... for you to have someone speaking on your behalf."
From the South balcony, the regal lioness Lady Miahn shifted in her seat. She was beginning to rise when a strong hand gripped her arm in warning. "Sit down, mother," said the late King's cousin, coldly. "Let the Vyrian dog dig his own way out of the hole he's dug himself into." She scowled at him side-eyed, but remained still. Several of the lion-man's friends chuckled behind them.
A softer, almost melodic male voice broke the silence from the North balcony. "I will speak for the good Grand Marshall." Heads around the hall turned once again, trying to keep track of the ongoing social tennis match.
At the entrance to the throne room, the yellow-feathered Shar'elum Historian craned his neck to get a better look at the heavily-layered black-and-gold clad elf who stepped to the railing. He was more than handsome, thought the Historian. He was beautiful, with stunning, oval-shaped eyes momentarily glowing a faint yellow, smooth skin, thin lips, and long, light brown locks of hair falling perfectly to either side of his face.
"Lord Mirza, Myndikin of the Elven peoples," the Historian announced.
"That is," the Elf deferred to Davu, folding a small parchment in his hands, "if you would allow it, my Lord Councilor."
Davu racked his brain but couldn't for the life of him remember ever having encountered Mirza. His military mind flagged the generous offer in warning. There would be a cost. There was always a cost when dealing with the nobility. He looked into both Yahri and Captain Haruchi's pleading faces, and resigned himself to accepting help.
"Very well," Davu nodded to the Elven Lord. "I thank you for your gracious offer, Lord Mirza," he called. Yahri cocked his head sideways, genuinely surprised.
Show spoiler
What follows is an Ironsworn RPG solo session. My notes will generally be captured in the form of:
Character Initials: action
six-sider/ten-sider/ten-sider-result(Strong, Weak, Miss)
Effect
Show spoiler
DP: Compel +iron
6/2/5-S+1M
Oracle
Support Fear
YN: Compel +heart
Diplomat 2: +1
5/2/9-W
YN: Compel +heart
Diplomat 2: +1
8/7/8-W
DP: Compel +iron
7/3/9-W
Council Chambers, Stoverj Castle
Captain Haruchi and his men had positioned themselves around council chamber room. Yahri noted some of their hand gestures back and forth curiously, and wondered what they were saying. Lady Bolor sat with perfect poise in one of the deep leather chairs, legs crossed. Her bright pink fingernails, a stark contrast to her dark black skin, tapped impatiently against the wooden arm. Davu and the Elf Lord Mirza sat on a plush maroon couch across from her; Davu exuding irritation and Mirza holding one of those confident, know-it-all smiles every Elf seems to learn as part of their upbringing.
Yahri smoothed back the feathers on his head and took a deep breath. "Grand Marshall," he began. "You are accused of murdering a Mahnkii noble by the name of Annibus Enebish, son of Lord Tseren and," he motioned to the alligator-like woman, "Lady Bolor." She nodded, tenting her fingers in front of her. "Would you care to relay your view of what happened?"
"Forgive me, Lord Negdahe," Mirza interrupted. "I don't think there's any dispute as to whether or not the Grand Marshall murdered the boy. There were more than enough witnesses the good Lady could call to account. Is that fair to say, Lord Pa'lakh?"
"It is," Davu nodded warily.
"Of course it is," he smiled. "The real question is why? Why was your son there, Lady Enebish? What was he doing?"
Her reptilian eyes narrowed in suspicion. "He was with his friends, minding his own business and perusing the latest merchandise arriving in the shops of the Spice Docks, when this Vyrian took his life."
"Liar," Davu countered indignantly, banging his fist on the arm of the couch.
Yahri opened his beak to speak, but the Elf Lord Mirza raised a cautionary hand to the Grand Marshall. "Please, Lord Councilor. Do maintain your composure." Davu's snout instinctively curled up in a slight snarl toward the Elf.
Mirza stood and flattened a portion of his heavily embroidered, many-layered cloak to his chest. Captain Haruchi and the guard watched with a wary eye as he moved casually and with exceptional grace to a dark wooden drink station on one side of the room. He picked up an ornate, square crystal bottle containing a light, straw-colored liquid, lifted the crystal stopper, and inhaled deeply.
With a content smile, he looked to Captain Haruchi. “Ah, a Zuul’Hy blend - from the Northwestern reaches, if I'm not mistaken?" The massive horse-man shrugged, slightly put off at the Elf's assumption that just because he was Ja'nakh, he was from the Freelands. "I see," Mirza sighed with disapproval, proceeding to nonchalantly pour himself a glass as if this was his own home, not the Ruling Council's chambers.
He closed his eyes and took a sip, all eyes in the room watching. He smiled. "Simply exquisite," he remarked, curiously studying each of the King's Guard around the room. "Now, where was I? Ah yes," to Lady Enebish. "Your son. Perusing the latest merchandise... was it? Yes, yes, I believe it was," he answered himself as he began to pace around the room slowly.
"I do recall hearing one of the larger merchant ships from Rolighav just arrived this morning. Which one was it?" He paused, clearing his throat.
"The Grewinruul?" Questioned Yahri.
Mirza wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and nodded confidently. "Yes, that's the one."
"From what I heard it's actually a Dwarven ship that sails the Upanje Sea out of the Human ports," Yahri added.
"Looking for the latest news from Stormbreak, perhaps?" Mirza eyed the Mahnkii woman with a smug grin. "I hear your husband's made quite the impression in Kurzniert."
Like most Kynekin, Davu didn't know much about the Dwarven mountainholds of Stormbreak. If you knew only one thing though, it was most likely the Northernmost stronghold of Kurzniert; made infamous by the event most referred to as the "Kurzniert Massacre". If the capital city of Stoverj was the starting point for the Kynekin Rebellion against the Elven Empire, Kurzniert was the beginning of the end for the Myndikin armies.
A small but elite force of Mahnkii troops had infiltrated and brutally murdered all of the Dwarves present - men, women, and children alike - nearly sixty years ago. This single, deplorable act stole the will of the Dwarven Houses to continue supporting the war and sowed chaos amongst their leadership. Without Dwarven support, the already dwindling Elven forces could not continue the war.
At the signing of the Thee'nor accord around one year later, the Mahnkii declared Kurzniert their "freehold," no longer part of the Dwarven Kingdom, but also not specifically aligned with the newly established Kynekin Kingdom of Vath'azen. Reports indicated skirmishes and conflicts between the Freehold and the rest of Stormbreak were a regular occurrence.
Lady Enebish clenched a fist in frustration and turned to the Chief Arbiter. "I fail to see what either Kurzniert or my good husband have to do with this man murdering my son!" She pointed a finger at the Grand Marshall accusingly.
"Of course you do," condescended Mirza. Suddenly, he staggered forward, almost falling to the floor. He braced himself on a side table and began to wretch the contents of his stomach onto the floor. His eyes flashed brightly with a golden aura of magic.
"Lord Mirza," Yahri exclaimed, leaping up from his seat.
"Poison," called Captain Haruchi urgently, looking back and forth between the glass and the bottle on the side table. He quickly made several hand gestures to his men.
Mirza dropped to his knees, raising an accusatory finger at one of Haruchi's men, a chestnut-brown skinned horse-like Ja'nakh of the King's Guard. Wide-eyed with surprise, the heavily armored guard grabbed Lady Enebish by the throat and ripped her from her seat like a sack of feathers. He spun her before him, pressing her back to his chest, using her as a Mahnkii shield, his curved Ja'nakh blade at her throat.
"Protect Lord Negdahe!" commanded Davu. The Grand Marshall sprung from the plush couch, blades ringing out as they escaped from his dual sheaths. Captain Haruchi raced to Yahri's side, both hands gripping the massive battle axe that moments before had been slung across his back.
Show spoiler
Situation:
Oracle: Raid Trade
YN: Compel +heart
Diplomat 2: +1
5/2/3-S+1M
DP: Secure an Advantage +heart
Mirza +1
6/8/8-M-Crit!
DP: Pay the Price
46: A new enemy is revealed
Lord Mirza
Traits:
Aloof
Insightful
Private
Motivations:
Avenge a wrong
Follow Weakness
Release Weapon
YN: Gather information
Courtier 1
5/2/6-W-+1M
Complication
Shipname:
Manmade objects
Grewinruul "Dwarven for Green Helm"
Throne Room, Stoverj Castle
The side chamber doors into the throne room burst open as a member of King's Guard backed in, sword at the throat his hostage, the black-skinned Mahnkii noble, Lady Bolor Enebish. Someone screamed. Conversations dropped and heads craned to see what was happening. While the throne room was less crowded than when they'd adjourned to the council chambers, many of the courtly sycophants and hanger-oners still loitered about. From the South balcony, Lady Miahn's son – the nephew of the late King - and his friends perked up.
The fox-like Grand Marshall strolled into the room, standing tall, the thrill of the fight a gleam in his eyes. "Come now," Davu announced with great bravado. "The poison you left in those chambers was surely meant for the kingdom's Ruling Council. I swear by the Purple Lady you will not live to see the dawn. Let the Lady Enebish go, and I will make your sentence swift!"
The huge Ja'nakh horse-man looked around erratically, searching for a way out. "You," he spit. "You killed an entire delegation of our people en route to your noble king. And for what? A slight against a single girl? No, you traitorous dog! The glorious Fotsu tribe will not sit idly by and let your transgression go unanswered. I may not survive this day, but we will not rest until you are brought to justice!" He dragged his blade forcefully along Lady Enebish's throat and flung her to the floor, rushing at the Grand Marshall.
Adrenaline surging, Davu effortlessly deflected the vicious flurry attacks one after another after another. He responded with multiple connecting strikes of his own, his final strike driving a blade deeply into the guard's thigh. The guard cried out as his leg gave out, no longer able to bare his weight. He dropped to one knee.
"You were there that day," Davu began to prowl around him. "Hiding in the crowd. I recognize you. I'm betting you were the one who raped that girl. Know that it is for your cowardice your tribesmen died."
The guardsman sprung forward with a battle cry, pulling a dagger from his belt. Side-stepping the attack with ease, one of Davu's blades swung downward, severing the man's hand from his arm, while the second sliced fluidly through his throat. The body fell to the floor.
Davu knelt quickly, dropping his weapons and frantically searching the guard's pouches "Call the healers," Davu commanded those nobles who hadn't fled the room. Finally he located what he sought, a small glass vial filled with a clear green liquid. Biting off the wax seal, he raced to Lady Enebish's side and turned her over from the rapidly growing pool of blood gushing from her neck. Her head lolled. Her eyes rolled. Her long alligator-like tongue flailed as she made a terrible gurgling noise.
He poured the contents of the healing draught into the wound. It wasn't going to be enough. He withdrew his own similar draught and repeated the effort as several more brave souls rushed to assist. Though mercy was not in her character, Davu silently asked Lady Tembryan to spare the Mahnkii woman's life.
Show spoiler
DP: Enter the fray +edge
8/4/8-W +Init
DP: Swear a vow
Defeat the Traitor
Troublesome
3/4/8-M
Devotant 2: Reroll
8/4/5-S-+2M
DP: Compel +iron
5/1/6-W
Complies w/complication
DP: Strike +iron
Duelist 1: +2
10/4/4-S-Crit!
Progress: 8/10
DP: Strike +iron
Duelist 1: +2
11/6/6-S-Crit!
Progress: 16/10
DP: Decisive action
16/6/10-S+1M
DP: Fulfill vow
16/7/10-S
Fufilled
Quests 1 tick
Devotant +1XP
DP: Heal
2/4/10-M
Burn momentum
10/4/10-W-Saved but -1Supply
Council Chambers, Stoverj Castle
The Next Morning
Yahri sipped his warm tea in the chilly early morn. The sky beyond the council chamber windows was beginning to lighten. He was still incredibly sore and swollen from his and Davu's encounter with the Kynekin mob. It was hard to believe it had only been a day. He would never admit it to anyone else, but he was deeply grateful for what Davu had done to save him; taking another's life.
Three knocks on the chamber doors followed the deep rumble of their opening. Captain Haruchi's charcoal horse muzzle leaned in from the throne room. "My Lord Councilor," his deep voice echoed. "The Elf Lord Mirza is here to see you, at your request."
"Send him in," Yahri squawked.
"My Lord Councilor," Mirza bowed his head and paused just inside the door. "You summoned me?"
Yahri sat across the posh room, at the table by the translucent window. He motioned to the seat just opposite of him. "Please, come and sit."
Mirza crossed the room, moving more slowly than he had the night prior, his skin slightly more pale. He pulled out the chair and sat.
"Tea?" offered Yahri.
"I'll pass anything to drink at present, if you don't mind Lord Negdahe," he responded forcing a half-smile.
Yahri chuckled and shook his head. "Yes, I imagine so."
"So, you've been asking around about me," injected the Elf matter-of-factly.
Yahri set down the green and white tea cup and cleared his throat, considering how to respond. "Hmm. Yes. Yes I have."
"Learn anything interesting?" Mirza asked confidently.
The short list of findings ran through Yahri's mind: Well-connected (check). Imperial Loyalist. Highly private. Received a message in court just before his declaration to assist the Grand Marshall. "I had hoped," the Chief Diplomat began, "to discretely find a way to thank you for your service to the Kingdom last night."
"Ah," Mizra bowed his head in deference. "Allow me to save you the trouble, my Lord. I am looking for a series of books, a very... specific... series of books about the history of my bloodline. Unfortunately, most copies were lost during the Great War. Allegedly there was a set housed here in the Library, but in an area that collapsed during the fighting. I'm told it has yet to be recovered. I would like the Ruling Council's blessing to lead an effort, fully funded from Imperial coffers, to excavate that area of the Library."
"Let me speak to the Historians and see what I can do," answered Yahri.
"Thank you, my Lord Councilor."
Yahri hesitated for a moment, black-clawed fingers tapping his tea cup. "I must ask, Lord Mirza. Last night. The Ja'nakh poison? The traitorous guard? It seemed as though you knew the drink was poisoned. I know you channeled a spell of some kind. I saw the glow in your eyes. I assume it was something to mitigate the poison's effects?" Mirza watched patiently in silence.
Elves and their damned secrets, Yahri mused.
"What I can't puzzle out," the Chief Diplomat continued, "is why. That poison could have killed at least one, if not several Council members in short order. That would seem to be in the Empire's interests."
Lord Mirza smiled with that characteristic Elven superiority. "My dear Lord Councilor," his tone just on the edge of being condescending, "Vath’azen has no lack for enemies, and yes, the Empire is chief among them. But when my Emperor decides to reclaim our lands – the lands upon which you and your rebellious ilk are squatting - far more than one or two lives hiding behind the walls of a castle we built, will perish. Rest assured when that time comes, the Kynekin annihilation will be complete. Until then, we will not allow the poorly conceived plans of a misguided few to be laid at our feet, which surely your people would have done in this case… That is, of course, unless it serves our interests."
Yahri swallowed nervously as a shiver ran down his spine at Mirza's sheer callous confidence. Lord Mirza slid back his chair. "If there is nothing more, Councilor Negdahe, I have other matters to attend to."
"Thank you for your time, Lord Mirza," Yahri nodded. "And thank you for your actions, even if they were not altruistic. I will be in touch about your request."
Lord Mirza bowed slightly and exited the council chambers, leaving Yahri alone with his thoughts.
To Be Continued...
Show spoiler
YN: Gather information (on Mirza)
8/3/8-W+1M
YN: Compel +wits
8/7/7-S-Crit!+1M
Vow: Protect the Vision of Vath'azen
Gain insights into the enemies of the Kingdom
Progress: 3/10
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