Tales of Solhaven (storyline)/The Pacing Maiden 12-21-2023 (vignette)
The Pacing Maiden
Like the whisper of wind through fall leaves, the swift of silk skirts and the light tread of suede upon cobblestones drifted through the small chamber as Athalia paced. Events since the early Autumn, and indeed the previous ten months, had started to slow down and return to a sense of normalcy. Salnim had been home for a number of weeks, his time at the Emperor’s side and in the Elven Nations had come to an end. They had closure, to a point, for they knew who the true culprit of his wife’s murder had been. Dunrith was healing and getting stronger daily, and Gurbah had returned to take over his duties at the castle.
Indeed, he had been most pleased to see that in his absence Jarnsaixa had adroitly handled a potential security concern regarding the Mercantile Guild’s Seven Days/Nights of Illumination festival. She had even presented him with security plans and measures that he was in the process of implementing. When he discovered the hidden passage into the Keep, he performed a full security assessment of the entire grounds and found that at every turn the Giantess had already either discovered and sealed, or extensively searched and fortified any potential weaknesses. What had at first been viewed as an interrogation of the kindred had eventually dissolved into a mutual respect and the two had become companions. They could frequently be seen walking the walls at guard change.
Athalia turned in her pacing, her slippers and skirts swishing again.
“If I may,” the court magister quietly offered, causing the pacing woman to pause and lift her head.
Odelgarde glanced at Jarnsaixa, who smiled and nodded her encouragement.
“There is wisdom and kindness to this new posting. Earl Feurstein has been a widower for a number of years. He never remarried, never produced an heir, and is of advancing years. With the cessation of the Wyrdeep, and the new border crossings to be built between the Empire and Ta’Nalfein, they will also need someone with extensive experience in dealing with elven politics.”
Pausing ever so briefly, she continued, “Feurstein is not getting any younger and, let us face the facts, your brother is talented. He is an excellent politician, a stellar example of human nobility, and viewed by many as a sympathetic ear to the elven concerns. His wife pushed for the eradication of Chaston’s Edict, your father is half-elven, and he has been schooled in all the appropriate human ways. There are few that would question his humanity, and any that would try will find equally as many willing to decry their efforts. His wife was a humanitarian, and there will be immense sympathy, empathy, and trust given to him on that front. She was well liked. And the people of the Empire feel the loss of her keenly. They will innately trust his widow because he mourns with them.”
Athalia gazed at the young magister, smiling as she thought of how far the woman had come since first stepping into the Vornavian Keep in the dawn of the new year. Feurstein would be able to provide Salnim with an understanding and compassion that he would not get at home. While her own father raised them without their mother, the circumstances were drastically different. Each of them still held the hope that she would return to them one day. And, unlike Salnim, he had children to care for and remind him of her. Salnim did not have that luxury, nor had Feurstein. Yet, she thought to herself without realizing that she’d started pacing again, Feurstein did not have an heir.
She wondered if perhaps there was more at play here. Surely, the early must be wanting to ensure his inheritance. As he is the last of his line, who would rule Honneland for him? He must surely be thinking of such matters as, especially given the recent passing of Chandrennin and Caulfield. These men had been on opposing ends of the spectrum and it would do the Malwinds well to find where precisely the aging earl aligned himself.
“Jarn, are you able to reach out to your clan near Nielira Harbor?”
Pushing away from her reclined position against the desk, Jarnsaixa nodded. “Yes, they will have just returned from their yearly pilgrimage to the wetlands and fall training.”
The giantess eyed the younger woman with keen interest.
“And Oldegarde, do you happen to know the Court Magister that answers to Baron Hammarskal or Count Greythane?”
Her brow furrowing, Odelgarde replied with a note of skepticism in her voice, “Perhaps? I’m uncertain though I can find out. Its just a matter of asking some questions.”
Athalia nodded once, turning her eyes to the window.
“I believe the Silver Gryphon Perigourd hails from Bourth, and I can ask my Cryheart about his relations in Immuron. Come to think of it, Sir Mires originally hails from Honneland and may have some opinions he'd be willing to share as well.”
Though she could not see it, both of the women behind her grinned as she uncharacteristically misspoke, something they knew she was very careful of.
“We will arm my brother with as much information as we can to ensure he knows full well the climate he is moving into and what the full expectations are.”
Turning from the window, she moved to the desk where the three began plotting out letters, arranging for shipments, and meetings.
Dunrith smiled, his hand still resting upon the doorknob of his study. He had paused waiting for a moment to not interrupt their thoughts, not intending to eavesdrop, and yet finding that he couldn’t help but stay out of sight and silent as they conversed. He had read through many reports as his illness had abated and listened to many more, each detailing what a robust leader his daughter had become. Listening to her now, he understood more of what a great leader she was in his absence. She listened to counsel, digested, and enacted. She was kind, like her mother.
Releasing the door, he decided to leave her to her task. She had things under control.