The Council of Vratsa

Soft music fills the air, underlining the various buzzing conversations occurring around the expansive hall.

“Duchess Wanda Wawel of Wawelu. I had wondered where you could have wandered off to.”

A sickeningly sweet smile fills the matronly noblewoman’s face as she turns to the source of that dour voice: a short and rather stocky woman who looks to be at least a decade younger than she. “Oh, Eulalia dear, you need not be so formal! We only have a scant time left until all those titles and responsibilities bear down on us, so do take a moment to relax! Your hair will go grey before mine, at this rate!”

The stocky noblewoman’s lips press together into a thin line. “Countess.” She turns away from the voluptuous Duchess, dark eyes piercing through Vera’s veil. “You were just outside, yes? Has the Baron of Svaneti arrived yet? Or one of his sons, even?”

“Not that I had seen.” Rina plainly responds, her tone fairly friendly but not superfluously so. “Is there a matter with which you wish to discuss with him, Baroness Urszula?”

The dour Baroness doesn’t immediately respond. She calmly clasps her hands together, holding them over the waist of her comparatively modest dress. “My messengers have been unable to contact Svaneti in recent weeks.” She states after a few long seconds of silence. The faintest bit of concern and worry underlines her stern words.

Krvavy’s blood runs cold as she hears that. Has something happened to Thea’s family...?

“I see...” Rina responds, mirroring her bodyguard’s unspoken concern. Albeit in a far more dignified manner.

“Oh, you should not worry so much, dears!” The Duchess of Wawelu dismissively states, holding an arm out and letting one of her servants hand her a crystal glass filled with a bubbly gold liquid. “Nicodim is getting on in years, and Svaneti is far from here! The good Baron is likely just running late. Now,” she takes a sip from her glimmering glass while looking down at the shorter noblewoman. Both physically and figuratively. “Have you done something new with your hair, Eulalia? Each strand has a fine sheen to it, like polished coal or a rich black ink.”

The Baroness is quite clearly less than impressed to have her concerns so casually tossed aside, and for some dull small-talk about her hair no less. “Have a good day, Lady Wawel. We will speak further when the Council begins in earnest.”

“Tsk.” The matronly Duchess clicks her tongue as her more youthful peer turns and all but marches off. “That girl is far too serious for her own good. Do you not think so, Alexa?”

The albino maid standing by Krvavy’s side visibly twitches as that condescending noblewoman dares to address her Lady with such a disrespectfully familiar nickname. Her gloved hands clench into fists, causing one of the Duchess’ guards to visibly tense up.

“There is a time and place for both business and pleasure. For the Baroness, this is the former and not the latter.” The half-Elf Countess diplomatically responds, before adding one last comment to help placate her matronly conversation partner. “Her position is not as secure as yours or even mine, so do not blame her for focusing on what she sees as her duties.”

“My, my Alexa~! Always so wise~! This is why you are my favourite~!” The Duchess of Wawelu heartily laughs out, her massive breasts bouncing along with her almost exaggerated movements and threatening to spill past the very low neckline of her dress.

Krvavy pointedly turns her gaze away.

“Now, dear, how about we go and find Jaan? I heard that he has recently renovated his estate and expanded his art collection~!”

At first, Krvavy thought that Rina was exaggerating just a little about how boring all of this would be. After all, the first thing that they did after arriving at this castle was talk to an excitable archaeologist about some ancient ruins. Which is at least interesting.

But the past few hours have done nothing but prove that beautiful pink-skinned woman right...

More than half of that time has just been spent listening to Wanda, that contemptuous and conniving milf of Duchess, talk about useless nonsense. From a distance she doesn’t seem so bad, especially not to the eye, but... Being near her is a different story.

At least there is some entertainment to be found in watching Vera resist the urge to **** that foxy noblewomen whenever she talks down to or is far too familiar with the Countess...

The fact that Krvavy is nothing more than a silent observer actually makes all of this a bit more tolerable, oddly enough. She can just zone out for the most part, paying just the bare minimum amount of attention in case Rina wants her to do something. Which hasn’t happened yet, but it might at some point, and she doesn’t want to embarrass herself or the Countess by being slow to respond.

“Pardon me Ladies, but have either of you social butterflies seen Dovoryn anywhere? I wish to have a word with him.”

For the first time in... a couple hours... Krvavy’s full focus returns to the conversation at hand, staring intently at the nobleman who just spoke.

The Duchess of Wawelu frowns faintly, though apparently not because of that interruption. “No, in fact, I have not seen the Duke of Volhynia.” Distaste drips from voice as she uncharacteristically uses a proper title.

Duke Dovoryn Terenti of Volhynia... The man who was to be Thea’s husband, who almost certainly had her kidnapped. The man who caused Krvavy’s first ****, who she is determined to get **** on. Killing his second in command, the lightning wizard ‘Patriarch’ who actually killed Krvavy, is not enough to sate the barbarian’s rage.

“He is not one for pleasantries and idle chat,” the half-Elf Countess calmly comments, once again choosing to be diplomatic and neutral. “As he has done before, the Duke has likely chosen to skip all but the Council proper.”

To be completely honest, Krvavy still doesn’t know what she’ll do if she sees that Duke. Probably nothing. There are a lot of armed guards around here, so any **** attempt will be just that. An attempt. Plus, she doesn’t want to ruin things for Rina and Raseyne. Still, she is a little worried that he will recognize her. It’s unlikely, considering that Krvavy was barely a speed bump for him and was hardly worth remembering. But there aren’t many Draklings in these parts, none but Krvavy as far as she can tell, so maybe...

“That will hardly do.” The relatively unremarkable nobleman openly scowls.

“Oh?” Wanda’s slightly soured mood is immediately lifted as she smells the potential for gossip. “Olev, good man, why not air your grievances here and now? It may help calm your nerves and keep you from doing anything rash during our more ‘important’ talks later on.”

Judging by the look in this nobleman’s eyes, he knows exactly what the Duchess wants. But it doesn’t seem like he particularly cares about her true motive, choosing to instead latch onto the chance to vent his anger. “That bastard is encroaching on my lands! His men have been marching along the border, taking a step further across it each day! I will not stand such an insult!”

“Oh, dear, you must not let him push you around so!” The Duchess excitedly feeds this man’s anger. “You should stand up to his bullying and show him your might! Send some parties into his lands under the cover of night to burn and pillage all they come across!”

“That...” Rina gently sighs, clearly trying to not sound too disapproving as to not upset Wanda. “That would escalate the situation into all out war: Duke Terenti would not let such provocation go unanswered. Do not forget that his army is larger and far more experienced than your own.”

“I am painfully aware!” The nobleman hisses, pressing a hand against his forehead as he takes a long deep breath. “Apologies... I am under a great deal of stress and feel like a dog backed into a corner...”

“Understandable. You are not in an enviable position.” The Countess gently states, a somber smile weakly pulling at her lips. “Do what you can to fortify and better define your border. Have watch towers and relay stations constructed. Such defences will allow for you to quickly react and respond to further incidents while not being as provocative as proper forts and encampments.”

“Thank you for the advice, Countess.” Olev’s tone is genuine... and incredibly tired. “I hope against odds that it will help, though know in my heart that the fate of my people and my lands is already set. Dovoryn may not have fully turned his gaze my way, but... it is only a matter of time until my people suffer under the rule of that tyrant, one way or another... No Barony is safe, and soon neither will be the Counties or Dukedoms...”

“Oh, come now, no need to be so dour and depressive!” The Duchess of Wawelu waves off this apparent Baron’s worries. “Have a drink – at Veselin’s expense! – and relax! Stressing over this will change nothing, nor will it make that old soldier show up any sooner!”

Olev stifles a sigh, his expression grim and hopeless. “Have a good day, Countess. Duchess. I await our talks later.” With that, the nobleman abruptly turns and heads off.

“Tsk. What a bore...” Wanda clicks her tongue and sips from her crystal chalice. “Now, where were we before that interruption? Oh, yes...”

Krvavy stifles a sigh, doing her best not to show even the slightest emotion as this increasingly insufferable noblewoman resumes her vain prattling.

“Are we all gathered, my guests?” Duke Veselin Zlatan of Vratsa stands at the head of a large, almost egg-shaped, table. His corpulent hands idly drum on the backrest of a chair as he sweeps his gaze across the room, beady eyes glancing over the many nobles standing behind their own seats.

Two chairs remain empty.

Clack, clack, clack.

The sound of armoured boots clanking across hardwood flooring grows louder as a militaristic man enters the hall.

“And who are you?” Duchess Wanda Wawel of Wawelu asks, disdain underlining her otherwise warm and motherly tone.

“Sir Ivan, representing Volhynia.” The decorated officer responds. A silver sash trimmed with black rests atop his breastplate.

“Where is Dovoryn?” Tired hate drips from the voice of Olev, Baron of... Krvavy never actually heard the name of where that noble rules...

“The Iron Duke is otherwise occupied with more important business. I am authorized to speak for him at this council.”

The unremarkable face of Baron Olev pales, his fingers growing white as he tightens their grip on the back of his chair. He only seems to grow more tense as the officer confidently struts over to one of the empty seats, followed closely by a pair of fully armoured knights.

“That leaves us only one absence.” A mildly eccentric looking man wearing bright colours and a furred cape – that would be Jaan, if Krvavy remembers correctly – plainly points out the obvious, sounding incredibly bored of all this.

“Not so.” Sir Ivan states. “On order of the Duke, I am also authorized to speak for Svaneti.”

“Absolutely not.” Baroness Eulalia Urszula firmly speaks up, glaring coldly at the soldier. “You cannot in good conscience claim to represent both your Lord and the people he is aiming to subjugate. And for those of us assembled who do not care if Svaneti is silenced or not, may I remind you that we all have but one voice, yet Duke Terenti aims to speak with two while not even being present.”

“My, one must admire the gall of not only Dovoryn, but also yourself, little soldier.” Duchess Wanda’s tone is almost flippant as she says those words. Her voice is a little too firm for that to be anything more than an act. “I agree with Baroness Urszula. The presence of this ‘Ivan’ in place of his Duke is already an insult, and I will not tolerate any further from the man. Let him speak for Dovoryn if he so wishes, but only for Dovoryn.”

Tension hangs in the air as Veselin clears his throat. “Do any of us object to that which the Duchess has just said? Do any of us object to Svaneti having no voice in place of Volhynia speaking for them?”

No one says a word. Not even Sir Ivan.

“Good.” The Duke of Vratsa steps back from his seat, letting a servant pull it out for him. “Then let us begin.”

The men and woman all around the table mirror that move in the following moments. Some, like Baroness Eulalia and the representative of Volhynia, pull out their own chairs. But, for the most part, servants handle that duty.

The Countess of Raseyne, among others, remains silent throughout all of that. She gives her albino maid a thankful nod and takes her seat.

Vera’s modest heels quietly click across the floor, melding together with the sounds of the other servants’ footwear as they all put distance between themselves and that rounded table. Her gloved hands tremble slightly as she finds her place by the wall. This room may not be overly large, but she is still so far from her Lady.

Krvavy’s thick tail slowly curls to the side, moving more by instinct than her will as it often does. The armoured appendage brushes over Vera’s dress, loosely hooking around the girl’s waist.

The maid grows a little tense as she notices that thing hug onto her. But... she doesn’t immediately shove it off like she usually would. Vera lets the Drakling’s tail lightly hold onto her for a few long seconds before slowly and gently pushing it down and away.

“Now that we are all seated...” Duke Veselin reaches a hand out, pressing his palm atop a semi-spherical object embedded in the table in front of him. It flashes softly.

A weak pressure slowly builds in the room, leaving Krvavy feeling as if she is underwater. At least until her ears pop.

Near silence fills the room. Krvavy can hear her own breathing. She can hear the soft rustling of the various servants’ clothes and the occasional quiet click that marks the slight movement of one of the many knights in here. But she can’t hear a word spoken from the nobles gathered around that rounded table.

Nor can she make out the movements of any of their lips. A faint mirage-like wobble hangs in the air a step behind the seated nobles, forming a dome that stands in the center of this room.

The corner of Krvavy’s eye twitches.

As bored as she may have been earlier, there was at least some sound and background noise to keep her mind occupied. But now... now she just has her thoughts.

Which is never a good thing.

At least... at least Krvavy doesn’t have to worry about the slim chance that the Duke who had her killed will recognize her. But that little bit of relief is far overshadowed by her growing worry over whatever is happening with Svaneti.

Thea, her beautiful and bratty fiancée, may still be on the fence about letting her family know that she isn’t dead, but... Krvavy wanted to at least see them. She wanted to meet her little princess’ parents or older brothers. Sure, this isn’t exactly the kind of setting where Krvavy could have actually talked with them, but they would have almost certainly spoken to Rina. And, at the very least, that would have given Krvavy the chance to form her own opinion and figure out just what Thea’s family is like.

Because that brat isn’t exactly the most reliable. Krvavy loves the girl, she really really does, but... Thea’s view of her brothers is definitely tainted by her feelings of inferiority. As for her parents... Well, they did seem a bit neglectful from what Thea has said... But was that neglect intentional or just a consequence of their busy lives...?

The barbarian’s thoughts trail off as she idly watches one of the nobles rise halfway out of his seat, fist pounding down onto the table. If only she could hear what was going on right in front of her...

How long are these talks supposed to last...? A few hours, going by what Rina told her...

Maybe Krvavy could try contacting one of her girls? That would help pass the time. And she should tell Thea that no one from Svaneti is here... But... No. It wouldn’t be a good idea to do that right now.

If these nobles are keeping their trusted guards and servants from hearing them talk, then there is a good chance that they have some other security measures in place. Krvavy doesn’t want to risk setting off an alarm just because she is bored.

So...