FENRER

Out of place, Fenrer took Father's seat in the chamber for the time being, listening quietly to the Hanekan council discussing matters of state — searching for any trace of a cult within their words or reports. Anything Yuven refused to listen to on the basis of politics. He dug his fingers into his knee, tongue between his teeth with the flimsy hope none of the others gave notice to his presence. Each one, a faded memory of Father teaching him the basics of lordship — and the lands around him and who ruled them, their crests and words.

One chair remained empty, with a kraken curling its tentacles over the back of the chair, the rest filled by the Lords and Ladies of Haneka's self-sustaining lands. From Lord Askel, an older Lord who ruled near Draken's Descent, to Lord Stigan Tyronai, a young man around his age with lighter brown hair compared to his older brother in Kemal Tyronai, tied into a wolf-tail with the mark of the griffin to keep it in place as he himself appeared content to not be the center of attention. Fenrer tapped his fingers, tempted to start conversation, but held it for afterwards.

Each of the Lords closest, most trusted housecarl, hung back against the walls, the crests of their home painted onto their chainmail and metal fastenings. Reyn gathered rolled up scrolls to unfurl them and examine each with a discerning eye. "Lady Valarma reports that the Dawn Road should stay clear for the next moon," he said to the Lords. "I will be sending a contingent to assess the damage the civil war caused and what exact reparations will be needed. The residents of the Goldwood and I have agreed on a route through Lady Valarma. It is my hope that with the culmination of these efforts, Sungrove can be rebuilt." He curled his fingers together and kept his gaze forward, though some of the council members flicked their attention to him — the last living Pyren. "Henceforth, I want all supplies focused on the rebuilding efforts — the stronger the foothold we have on the inland, the better our chances against the Derelict threat that is growing to the south." He made no mention of the cult activity and the near collapse of Azahama — Yuven would be pleased at his foresight, but the thought of his Oathbound dropped a pit of mold in his stomach and brought it up to his nose in the form of bile.

"We'll keep the stretch of ocean between here and the other islands clear," Stigan Tyronai said. "We can also start moving supplies down to the harbor closest to the southern wall and move warriors if necessary. We can send a couple karves down the Blackwater delta to ferry shipments for the rebuilding project and send longboats between the islands and the Hanekan peninsula." His gaze lifted to Reyn with a sense of caution. "As for the other matter you wished to discuss, I'm sending some shipwrights to look over the plans for an ice carver."

So, His Grace fully intends to keep his end of the agreement with the Naveeran monarchy. Fenrer let out a breath, but held it once more when Reyn turned his gaze to him. He straightened himself out against the seat with a wolven snarl at his back. "Thank you for having me at this council meeting." He bowed, and some of the older Lords studied him — those who knew Father and worked with him when he walked the Aztryxer as Haneka's Marital Commander. "I am also a representative of the Storm Wardens. Fenrer Pyren." He shifted in discomfort at the weight on his lap, and the uncomfortable chair beneath him. In another corner of the table, Keeper Kalla, listening intently and quietly. Another corner, Gustul, who drank from a tankard and wrote on a scroll as the others talked.

King Reyn looked at the lord's one by one. "If there's nothing else, we can adjourn this council meeting," he said. "If there are any concerns, do not hesitate to tell me. I will return the favor for the assistance in rebuilding the heart of our inland."

Unable to hold his breath anymore, he released it when the seats scratched against the stone and the lords departed one by one. Fenrer found the strength to get out of Father's chair, choking on responsibility found in a duel. Lord Stigan headed for the door with a nod to his housecarl, who prepared to follow. Auras molded and drove knives into his temples, but he tried to quell the volcanic movement of the flow and found his voice within it, "Lord Tyronai?" He slammed to a stop when Stigan twisted his head around with a curious expression. Thankful for Yuven's absence which caused an equal amount of pain, he pushed through, "I don't know if Kemal mentioned me or if you two communicated an in the past few Turns, but I want to thank you for any assistance you provide for Sungrove." He bowed, but Yuven's snarled hiss echoed through his ears and he straightened himself out again.

Stigan faced him, tilting his head up slightly to meet him in the eye. "I think his last letter was a moon or so ago," he said with a wave of his hand. "And don't thank me, but if you do see my brother before I do, do tell him that no, the island did not explode without him there." Words clipped and to the point and reminded of Yuven everywhere he looked when the young lord left with his housecarl.

Fenrer chewed on his lip and turned to the king and crown apparent in Reyn and Gustul. "I wouldn't worry too much about Lord Stigan," Reyn said in the echoed silence of the warm council chamber. "Like us, he didn't get much of a chance to be a child due to my father's penchant for tyranny." He furled up the scroll Gustul gave him to tuck it in his belt. Fingers against his nose, he shook his head. "Rebuilding Sungrove is a large step to undoing the damage he did. I intend to build a stronger road network through the marshes that will connect Sivaport to Draken's Descent, and we need the Goldwood opened to see that through."

"You don't need my permission for that."

"In the eyes of Hanekans, and the residents of the Goldwood, I do," Reyn pointed out. "I will not do this by force. We've had enough of that and we need to focus our energy on the Derelicts. Speaking of." He took out another scroll to toss it at him, and Fenrer caught it. "Here are the reports of the areas not in Sivaport's sphere of influence. I'm sure Yuven Traye will want to take a peek at it and act accordingly to the information on it." Fenrer read it over. Letters mixed with others in Reyn's scratchy hand-writing. "I'm hoping it won't be too difficult for him to decipher, I thought it prudent to do what I can to cover the real reason you and yours are here, so might as well use my struggles to my advantage." He shrugged with a huff. "Or else I would've had Gustul write it."

"I did offer," Gustul pouted.

"Best it doesn't fall in the wrong hands though," Reyn threw back with a shake of his head. "Don't let us bickering keep you, Fenrer. You have your own duties and preparations to see to. I will send someone to let you know when you are to leave for the Goldwood. Once again, if you require anything, do not hesitate to ask."

"Yuven shouldn't have too much trouble, Your Grace, don't fret." Fenrer pocketed the scroll, knees locked from a respectful bow of stringent diplomacy. Diplomacy which would've avoided trouble had Yuven bit down on his pride. Anger danced with uncertainty and dread of his hate. "I'll get this to him and see you in the mead hall." Free from a lordly view, he rushed out of the chamber and through the thick, pale stone of the fortress. Gulls cooed outside cracked open windows, but he went deeper, out of range of the sounds of outside.

Icy maelstroms swallowed each of his senses, but he opened the half-hidden door to enter Keeper Kalla's study. Uncertainty stomped out his previous rage in an instant at Yuven's refusal to appear before him as he once did. Letter in his hands, he went to put it on the desk, but took a peek at what Yuven studied, turning over to the cover. The Old Blood of Haneka? Fenrer flipped through the pages and read the first passage: Every dynasty which can trace their roots back to the deserts before the giants took to the sea and joined with the people of what is now Haneka. Fenrer tilted his head. Why is he reading this?

"Molvisaliz?"

His melodic Navei slammed him upwards and he shut the book with a dusty crack. Voice out of his throat, he motioned around him, then found it again, "Here. Letter from King Reyn about the things you requested." He ducked out of Yuven's way when he grabbed it to head for the door. A ghostly mirage stood in his way, before solidifying, betrayed by the flow of his aura joining back up with the disconnect of his illusion. "Don't mind me."

"I am minding." Yuven approached him, and Fenrer slid away from him. "We must talk."

"We are talking."

Misty plumes left Yuven's nose. "You know what I mean."

"Whatever we need to discuss can wait once we know for certain he cult can't reach King Reyn," Fenrer argued with a nod at the letter tucked in Yuven's long fingers. "Yuven, you weren't there. You didn't see what havoc they wrought with only a small collection of blood gathered at weak points — and then how it exploded when Hirishi's blood spilled." He waved his hands out at Yuven, whose feathers thinned in his silence. "You're always the one who harks about how we need to focus on the matters at hand. Anything else is secondary. Action instead of words. Isn't that your mantra?" Rage billowed into his throat and his blood pulsated in his limbs to tear out trees from the ground. "Isn't that what you told me?" He used the silence to push himself for the door, to flee from his pain. "Good luck with your studies."

"Fenrer." Yuven followed him out of the room, and Fenrer flinched at the dark shadows under his eyes. "How foolish do you think I am?"

Fenrer kept his mouth shut. "Why do you ask?"

Yuven wiggled a finger, and Fenrer shivered when another ghost formed beside Yuven, eyes a blank violet, a near perfect copy of the illusionist. "Excellent thing about my particular gift... I can get information in other ways... so long as it's not too far away," he pointed out with a fanged smile, but it dropped. "I listened in on the meeting."

Fenrer furrowed his brow. "Why not just join in? Why the secrecy?"

"I trust no one. You should know this by now."

Fenrer folded his arms and looked at Yuven's boots instead. "Are you going to join us for dinner?"

"I am not going to sit between you and Adara. Enjoy your meal by yourselves."

Flames buried into his knuckles, but he released the soft, morning embers before it exploded against his skin and into Yuven's face again. "Actually, I was eating in the dining hall with King Reyn and his housecarls—" He hesitated. "Adara included."

"Dinner with a monarch, my favorite pastime." Yuven flicked his feathers. "I'll pass, Fenrer."

"King Reyn isn't as bad as—" Yuven narrowed his eyes, and Fenrer continued, "As others in his position."

"Yet he is still in that position and sits upon a fancy chair whose only point of interest is how much blood is underneath it to get him there," Yuven pointed out with a nasal hiss. "It is the same with all monarchs, Molvisaliz. They did not take their crowns without bloodshed or strife, nor keep them. Ever heard of the adage, Fenrer. Peace isn't kept with passiveness. I will give Reyn the sole credit that he has more self-awareness than the other monarch that remains to us with the smarts to back it up, but that is all the acknowledgement I shall give him. He may be an old 'family friend' of yours, but he is not mine. I do this because I owe him for saving your life."

"Yuven, I'm..."

Yuven twisted around with a shake of his heads, tugging at one of the longer feathers.

I'm sorry... I shouldn't have let go...

"Go on then, enjoy your day," Yuven said as he headed for the door into his borrowed study and Fenrer failed to speak out the truth in turn. "Learn your way around politics, and understand this." He curled his lips. "I know how the game is played... I just won't play it. I would sooner flip the board, but this is good for you. You need to understand these rules... and if you're like to play with them — keep me out of it. You're much better with people." He headed into the study with a pulsating fluff of the icy maelstrom full of power, flaring with Yuven's annoyance. Fenrer winced when the door clicked closed and cut him off from his Oathbound.

Don't hate me. Fenrer resisted the urge to creep closer to the door. I'm sorry.

Fingers pressed into his palm, he left Yuven behind in the darkness of a standing stone.