Honor

You groan and raise your hand to pinch the bridge of your nose, as though that could quell the growing ache in your head. Your duty commands you to protect your people: raise an army, march it south, and drive out the goblin nest for good. Your loyalty instructs you to obey the king and send him the men he requests, even if it damages your capability at home. Your honor demands you charge east, take the traitor Tannis' head, and mount it on a spike outside The Spire. Ideally you'd like to do all three, however you know you have the power to do but one...

For now.

"Sir Zachary" you grumble, "Do as I instructed, raise the war-banner and marshal the men."

The knight nods before asking, "And where shall we be preparing to march Your Grace?"

You let out a heavy breath "Towards Castle Hillgard. Lord Tannis' greed, treachery, and ineptitude have gone on far too long."

Sir Zachary bows respectfully and resumes his place. You fight back a satisfied grin, this had been a long time coming. Since before you were born Lord Tannis had been constantly complaining about raiders and bandits on the road to the capital, and repeatedly asked for more men. Your father initially trusted the man and funneled both Frost Knights and resources into the count's hands. While it was true that there were many raids along the route, in years of patrols no thieves were ever found. Your father soon suspected that Lord Tannis was hiding something, perhaps protecting some bastard and his friends, but you doubt he ever suspected the Count's hand directing matters.

The worsening conditions went on for decades. Eventually merchants found it preferable to add days to their journeys by avoiding the road altogether and taking the route through Riverain instead. It wasn't long after that Goblin sightings were reported around the town. Of course this ultimately led to your father's final battle against the wretched green ghouls. A battle where Lord Tannis' promised support only arrived after your father lay dead and Sir Zachary storied rally and push. Yet somehow Lord Tannis had claimed credit for the victory in the King's court, and Lord Gilbert had rewarded him for it!

Indeed, justice had been a long time coming, and you could almost taste it now.

"Your Grace," Lord Endwin interrupts your scarcely contained glee, "may I ask how you would like to respond to the King's request and the goblin sightings?"

A scowl came across your features and you glare at the area around the old man. "Bring in the envoy."

Lord Endwin bows before slowly making his way out of the hall to fetch the requested man. As he does, Lady Adrianna steps forward.

"Your Grace" she bows somewhat uncomfortably "if it pleases you, I have Coven matters to discuss."

As she is your senior within the Coven, as well as your teacher, she is considered to be your superior with regards to magical matters. Your position as the Duke of the Frostpeaks puts you in the position of authority in regards to pretty much everything else. You have to admit, the situation has proven difficult in the past to reconcile. Near as you can tell, neither one of you is really sure where your jurisdiction ends and the other begins. One would think the distinction be quite clear, but it never ceases to surprise you how often they overlap.

"In regards to what?"

"Land purchase and operation within the town proper." She answers.

You mutter something before Lord Endwin returns with another man. "I'll deal with that later."

The newcomer is tall and a little older than you by the looks of it. He's draped in a rich gold and burgundy tunic which is a stark contrast to the dark and dreary black stone of the Spire. Garish rings and jewelry adorns him and you find his manner and appearance opulent, indicative of styles typically found in the capital. You're surprised at how quickly you've become offended by such displays of wealth, and immediately take a dislike of the man. The fact that Sister Cynthia nearly swoons for him doesn't endear him any either...

"Your Grace" The words leave his lips with a whiff of condescension. "I bring instruction from King Bryce of Itheria, your sworn liege. You are to raise a company of Frost Knights and send them to the capital at once. His Majesty has need of them for a march."

"Who are you?" You ask calmly.

The man looks both shocked and confused. "Pardon?"

"Who. Are. You." You repeat, slower.

"I-I am Nicholas Wilfred Your Grace. Third son of Lord Richard Wilfred, Baron in the eastern plains. I bear a message from the king."

"Now tell me, why do you insult me?" Your tone grows harder now.

"I don't Your Grace." The boy looks somewhat frightened now. This is good.

You let out a heavy sigh, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Where are you?"

"Your Grace?"

Through clenched teeth you repeat "Where. Are. You?"

"I-I'm in the hall of Fortress Von Doom Your Grace. At the Spire."

"And who am I?"

"Y-you are Duke Magus Von Doom, Your Grace."

You allow your right lip to curl up in a mocking manner. You briefly glance around the room; Lady Adrianna's look of disapproval has not dissipated but she appropriately keeps her mouth shut, Sir Zachary is stoic and unreadable, and Lord Endwin gives you a quick and subtle nod. It's only Sister Cynthia who looks at you with an expression that is pleadingly fearful. While it is exactly what you should be evoking in those before you, for some reason the pained features upon her face unsettle you.

You can't let that stay your hand however.

"That's exactly right. I am Duke of the Frostpeaks, Lord of the Spire, Shield of the South, and cousin of THE KING! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE NOT TO BOW BEFORE ME WHEN ENTERING MY HALL!!!? NICHOLAS WILFRED, SON OF WHO CARES, THE LORD OF NO ONE GIVES A DAMN!!!"

By the end of your outburst you're standing, and in response the young man doesn't just bow, he kneels. The sight of him in his vibrant outfit nearly prostrating himself and trembling threatens to bring a satisfied smile to your face, but you fight it back down. You risk another glance around the room and see that nothing much has changed save for a small glimmer of approval in your steward's eye.

And the priestess in tears.

You shake away your discomfort and sit back down in your throne. After a deep breath, and a moment to let the young man before you whimper a little more you speak, slightly, more gently. "Now, with proper etiquette, what is your message?"

The envoy mumbles something that you don't hear. With a nod to the knight, Sir Zachary unceremoniously hoists him to his feet.

"What was that?"

"Y-your Grace, I-I bring a m-message for you from T-the King. H-he asks you dispatch a contingent of F-frost Knights to his banner. H-he seeks your aid for a march."

You lean back in your throne and let the man sweat for an instant more before you reply. "No."

At least the messenger has the wits to still be confused, as the rest of your council is.

"Sire?" The question comes from the envoy, but you suspect it could have come from almost anyone in the room.

"I have need of my warriors. Honor must be restored in the south, treachery punished, and justice done. I have a rogue lord in my lands whom the crown has seen fit to reward, and a green-skin menace to crush under heel. I have no men to spare. You will return to my beloved cousin and tell him that I will deploy the south's might to his side once I feel it is secure. Not before."

Shock has not left his face, but you see him nod terrified at least. After a pause you let a gaze of mild bewilderment cross your features. "Now go." you dismiss him as though you are wondering why he was still there.

He scuttles away, out of the hall, and you rise to your feet. "That's all for now."