“Is it not obvious? She is an Inheritor of Ice, an instrument of astral prophecy.”

 

Andril watched as the table reacted to Duke Belvan, each with a seemingly unique expression upon their faces. It would’ve been funny to him even, if it had been about just about any other subject.

 

The simple hall in the centre of Castle Fenward was a strange curiosity of the Minuan duchy, a symbol that despite all of the city’s opulence and riches its divinely ordained leader would never forsake his simple origins. The small wooden throne that had been moved to the head of the table was even said to be extraordinarily uncomfortable to sit upon, though the Duke had privately told Andril that was not the intention of its artisan. Still, it was quite a striking symbol, especially when compared to the grand palace in the heart of the kingdom. 

 

If it were to have a single flaw in Andril’s mind, it would be the massive headache that such an environment inflicted when one tried to plan a rebellion in it.

 

A grizzled church official dressed in blues and whites, one Andril knew to be the leader of the monastery at Celrion’s Peak, raised his voice above the others.

 

“It’s too convenient. She’s an agent of the East, the Gryphon, or, Star help us, the Brepolese, as should be readily apparent to everyone here. Have we already forgotten the countless plots and intrigues inflicted upon us already? Should we just continue to play into their hands time and time again like the cards of a dear child? Of course not! She should be monitored, not empowered.”

 

A round of bobbing heads and ‘hear hear!’s sounded about the room, and Andril made sure to commit each one to memory in case. He knew from hard won experience just how important it was to know the true and feigned opinions of the important.

 

There were only twenty five around the war table, though that was a bit too many for Andril’s taste. If he had his way at least five would’ve been cut, mostly the local merchants and guild leaders Duke Belvan had been adamant on inviting. The rest of the group was slightly higher ranking, with the mayor of the city, local leaders, the highest bishops and paladins of Celrion’s Peak, and a count and a baron who had made it to Minua before the snows had hit. The duke’s eldest son and heir was also in attendance, though he stood to his father’s side and had stayed silent in each meeting.

 

Andril had wanted Fredrick to attend as well to serve as well, as a favour to his father, but after their… argument he had declined.

 

Andril scrowled to himself.

 

He didn’t quite understand how the Maverick could agree with him on so many topics and yet rebuke him for following those very tenets. He spoke of honour and duty so often, and yet it had taken only one perfectly honourable duel for him to break apart years of friendship. How could he not see the necessity of keeping his image intact? How could he possibly let such an imputent knight insult him so publicly? No, it would’ve been more dishonourable to let it slide!

 

If only there was another of Fredrick, things would’ve turned out differently. 

 

Perhaps with more nobles like the young Maverick, the assassination attempt would’ve been foiled, the conspirators caught and questioned, and his brother would still be alive. Then this whole mess could’ve been avoided and the senate could be dissolved without further bloodshed. If only he had more men of sound morals around him, he could-

 

A nudge from his right brought him out of his dark thoughts.

 

“Lord Andril, what say you? You have been awfully quiet.”

 

Andril didn’t jerk up, but swiftly shook his head at the direction of the priests. He’d never actually stopped paying attention to the conversation, only put it in the back of his mind. Still, Duke Belvan had probably worried that the others would misinterpret his expression, or Lady Amelia had perhaps signalled him. 

 

“You speak too soon, I think. It is certainly suspicious that a demon and its slayer would appear so quickly after one another, but I have known Saphry for most of my life, and the Astrian family even longer. We can trust Summark. For if we can’t, then we can’t trust anyone under the Star’s light.”

That was a lie, of course. He’d known scant more than of her existence until a couple months ago, and he had only exchanged passing pleasantries with the Lord of the Mark. But what he said of the latter might as well be true, for he fully heartedly trusted that Summark would either come to help their cause or at the very least stay neutral in the coming conflict. Anything else would compromise their ability to hold the border fortresses against the prededations of the east, where the true threat was said to reign.

 

As for Saphry, while he did have his doubts towards her sudden magical awakening after he had warned her not to, he had a much more important political reason to throw his support behind her, one he knew was not lost on those assembled.

 

“I regret to break with you, Father Pelrio, I must agree with Lord Evendal in this matter.” Duke Belvan said. “It cannot be a coincidence that an ice mage would appear in our time of need. I doubt the Gryphon would send such a useful symbol straight into the arms of man.”

 

Yet more nods went around the table at the duke’s words.

 

“It has been millenia since man has wielded the azure magic.” The thin count with white hair said. “Would it be too far to say that this might even be the herald of a new era? It might be the sign that man might finally descend the heights of Brionin’s Wall to deliver our comrades…”

 

It wouldn’t be quite an exaggeration to say that religion ran in the lives of every man and woman in Verol, Andril knew. The prince himself was the church’s biggest supporter, and he believed greatly in the cause of the four pointed star. Prophecy, however, was not scripture, but in fact the ramblings of the commoners. Still, this was a case in which even Andril had to admit the circumstances were a little too convenient.

 

“And might I remind you that she saved the city as well, and all our people.” The baron said. “As far as the survivors said, fire magic only empowered that demon. It might’ve caused untold deaths before a phoenix knight could slay it through brute force”

 

“It caused plenty of deaths as it was.” The mayor sniffed. “The west district will take years to recover from the fires.”

 

“And yet it would’ve done even more.” The baron replied.

 

Father Pelrio rubbed his wrinkled temple, clearly torn.

 

“I won’t deny her aid, that is why I don’t advocate to try her for heresy. Even the Star couldn’t forgive such fundamentalism. But I also must advise against believing in half baked rumours and so called divine prophecy. Have foreign forces not already planted puppets among even the King’s men? We know now that Lord Agos and countless others were corrupted, what proof do we have now that the Astrians are not the same? By the abyss, we know not even the originator of the first batch. I wholeheartedly refuse any attempt to bring her in. Reward her, yes, but I wouldn't trust her higher than a colg flies.”

 

The table devolved into minor conversations after he finished speaking as everyone broke into argument.

 

While they had good theories, neither Andril or anyone here knew where exactly the senate’s conspiracy had come from. The weapons had come from Brepoli, yes, but yet other clues had pointed towards Burgunde or the Gryphon’s work. Verol was surrounded by enemies and hostile states, and even the inside had its own rotted core. The kingdom was a far cry from the Wall of the Star that Andril had been taught about when he was young.

 

But, if there was one light in the hellish situation, it was in the changes he’d be able to make if, no, once it was resolved. 

 

A shining beacon in the clouds. Andril thought. A noble and united Lmeri.

 

Once the country was purged, it would be restored. No longer would it suffer from the prededations of decadent republics, an unworthy nobility, or shady merchants from the south. The Star would be returned to this land, Andril had sworn it over his brother’s body. 

 

And the ancient lands of the Star did not stop at the borders of Verol.

 

“Father, I feel like you mistake using the Astrian and bringing her into our confidence.” Amelia suddenly said, the murmured conversations dying at her voice. “Tools need not plan their forging.”

 

Andril had to stifle a chuckle at the silence. It was not an incredibly common occurrence for a noble’s wife or fiance to wield any significant amount of political power, but that perception had not lasted long after Amelia had arrived here. In fact, the swiftness with how she had taken charge had even caused him no end of worry himself, that she might spawn rumours once the marriage was official. For now, however, Andril could only appreciate her help.

 

Still, that was the extent of their relationship. Both of them knew that it had been a political arrangement, one that had been unpopular in both countries and was probably even more so now that Andril was the disputed heir. Andril would put up with it for the sake of the kingdom and the opportunities it gave his land, but there was not much more than that.

 

“Lady Amelia, even having her privy to campaigns could be disastrous. Surely she would be accompanying the army if we endorsed her as a true Inheritor, so what would we do if she stabbed us in the back in the midst of battle?” Father Pelrio said.

 

“And yet we must. She has been revealed before the entire city, and I can assure you they would not take kindly to their saviour being sidelined. This is a boon we cannot ignore.” Amelia said.

 

“It’s always like this with you.” Father Pelrio scoffed. “Vague threats! Underhanded schemes! What right does Mistre have to interfere so much?”

 

“And what right do you have to Mistren soldiers then?” She shot back. “I cannot let shortsighted decisions undermine us in the spring.”

 

If only it were that simple. Andril lamented. 

 

It wasn’t actually guaranteed that Amelia would be able to bring Mistre into the war on their side. Certainly there would be some support from her father’s personal demesne, but Mistre’s nobility was even more independently minded than Verol’s own, and many of them weren’t fans of the union that would occur if Andril actually inherited, no matter what the treaties had stated. 

 

“The people will listen to the church, and we will look out for them matter what is decided. The rain does not lead the clouds.” Father Pelrio said.

 

“Enough.” Andril said. “I understand the position of the priests of Celrion, but I cannot let this opportunity go to waste. We will need every advantage we can get, and if the Star itself deigns to give it to us, it could be scartiliage to refuse it.”

 

Irritatedly, Andril saw the eyes of those around the table flit to his right, to Duke Belvan, who nodded in agreement. 

 

Do they not know who their future king is?

 

“Then I suppose I will not object any more.” Father Pelrio ducked his head and sat back, clearly unhappy.

 

“How will we use her then?” The count asked. “Will she fall under your retinue?”

 

“She must be under mine, of course.” Andril looked around the table, daring someone to object. 

 

“It would certainly diminish the point of it otherwise.” Duke Belvan agreed. “We will bring her to campaign. I understand her constitution is not quite built for such a task, but I’m sure we could make something work.”

 

“I would be able to train her personally.” Amelia offered. “Unlike Verol, Mistre has all its nobles trained for war.”

 

Andril raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. It didn’t really matter who exactly trained her in the end, as he didn’t foresee Saphry being sent into anywhere dangerous, but for his fiance to personally do it? He knew she must’ve had some personal reason for it, but he couldn’t guess as to what.

 

“You unfairly wound us!” The count said. “We train for all but magic. It should not be the realm of the powerful, after all.”

 

“Magic and war are but one and the same.” Amelia shook her head. “But I did not seek to offend.”

 

“It matters not in the end.” The baron grinned as he raised his glass. “The Star’s above us! Should all of Verol be so lucky!”

 

“For the Star!” A merchant said, doing the same. “And a new Verol!”

 

“A new Lmeri.” Andril corrected, raising his own glass. “And a new era.”