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Writing on the wall, writing on the hand, writing on the unsealed notes.
Namon pondered the two papers in front of him, each a heavy weight.
The first, bore the king’s seal and signature, an impassioned plea to consider joining the country’s armed forces. Many men woke up to find this letter at their feet, yet Namon would not join them.
The note made him shudder. Years of negotiating, talking, liaising, traipsing all over the world, singing the king’s name, all for what? To be seen as a pawn in a game about to end in the spillage of innocent blood.
The other, bore the crow’s seal without a signature, an invitation to the murder. Pleasant and cordial at first sight, the implications not lost on him.
This note held a different significance than the others. If he indulged it, the consequences could cut closer and deeper than any of the matters gone before.
Namon put pen to paper, and hoped no one would find out.
—
A triad of crows swirled around him in a balcony corner, leaving him to perch on the platform of a balcony railing.
Beside him stood a lady draped in a cloak of crow feathers, hiding everything bar the sharp face angled up at him. “Ambassador Darüven, I welcome your appearance.”
“As I of you.” He gestured, giving her a half-bow. “I appreciate your time, High Councillor.”
The lady turned her gaze up and behind, whistling. “Crows, get us to my study. And have someone close these doors.”
The trio circled again, leaving them in front of a standard, bottle green door.
Namon glimpsed her polar eyes staring at him, watching as he took a seat in front of her desk. Books bordered the walls, nary a window in sight nor an exit other than the entrance.
“As per the note I sent, I seek your advice on something, it’s quite the significant situation,”
He didn’t know if the plain expression on her face derived from boredom or scrutiny. “Go on.”
Namon breathed, words poised to confirm his obituary. “You see, my — our country’s monarch has expressed intentions to invade Seldaika, something I do not wish to see happen.”
“What have you done to dissuade him?”
What haven’t I done? Namon scoffed. “I have done all that I can, others too — just this morning I got sent this letter.”
The lady took it from his hands, frowning. “I see. His mind is set, then. What are your plans if you get forced?”
“I refuse to let him get to that stage.” He pocketed the letter, his dark brown eyes glistening with intent. “And that’s where you come in. I figure you might be able to stem their filachroste supply.”
Her eyes widened, glaring into the depths of his soul. “If I was to follow through with such a request, I doubt that will stop the enhancement efforts. They’ll likely revert to the old recipe, and lose more men in the process.”
“Is there anything you can do? Surely he would listen to you?”
She scoffed, a faint smile lighting her face the way the sun flashed in Feudrain’s skies, an uncommon delight. “You hold me in high regard, Ambassador. I don’t think I can say the same of him.”
Hope faded from his heart the way his goosebumps sank. He couldn’t — wouldn’t — leave with nothing. The first rule of being an ambassador.
“Can you at least lend me your aid? Say, talk to the monarch, use your crows, give me advice — anything?”
High Councillor Emar rose from her seat and shed her cloak, revealing a burgundy silk dress that ended before her feet, tracing the broad strokes of her honed silhouette. She took a few steps around the table, tracing a few fingers over the desk. “What are you willing to give in return?”
“That would depend on the specifics you’re offering.” Namon crossed his arms.
She continued her meandering around the desk, circling behind and past him, her downward gaze giving him chills. “You have an audacious tongue, one grander men lack even half of. Your charm could get you places, if you sought it.”
He grimaced at the last part, as she sat upon the table with schemes in her eyes. “Here is my offer. I will invite you into this court, as one of us — a High Councillor — and I’ll do what I can to stop the impending invasion by our homeland. All I need is your loyalty and commitment, to both your fellow High Councillors and to the Court of Morilast as a whole. What do you make of it?”
Namon’s jaw dropped, chills seizing him. “What good will come of me becoming one of you? Isn’t this the court where people murder their way in?”
She scoffed again, shaking her head. “By becoming ‘one of me’, the monarch will have no choice but to pay attention to you. If you were to decline my offer and end up, I don’t know, losing your position, what would you do? I won’t be offering this again.”
Namon blushed, a hard choice laid before him. It was one thing for people far away to die — abhorrent and evil as that is — but to look a person in the eye and commit to ending their life… put it to the lady of the crows to suggest murder.
“If - If I was, theoretically, to entertain your deal, how will it actually play out?”
“We both know that answer, and we can discuss more should you accept.” Her tone had a lighter lilt, putting him on edge. “For now, I’ll say this much — there are certain people I will not let you after, doing otherwise will be to incur your death. Understood?”
“Indeed.” Namon stood from his seat, shaking her hand. “I will need some time to think on it.”