Malrow was not surprised to find Desrin sitting beside Acolyte Imuto. With her future visions, the Imperial Daughter would know the heir to the goddess’ gift, Arlinmon. It was the frenzied look of his sergeant that concerned Malrow more, and he could not blame him. When you are surrounded by many of the most powerful mortals of Entherah, you can’t help but feel stupid in their presence.

They were inside what the steward had named, the Fedolarian Hall. A rather long rectangular feasting chamber fit to serve Enthah herself. Of course it was charon, not that the open windows cooled the growing tension between its patrons. It was a familiar place to Malrow. If the ceiling had still been blown to bits after all these years, he would not have been suffering with his friend.

On the long table, the individuals present were what King Arleous had considered close persons. By the Goddess’ blessing, the High Adjunct was not invited. Hence the empty chair beside the right hand of the King. So, Malrow was blunting his teeth from continuously grinding them. A low ranking soldier had no right to sit at the honor table of royalty. That is likewise why in front of the Lieutenant was Acolyte Imuto and the heir Acolyte Greysia.

Selvehin had the ability to hold his tongue from bursting into laughter. To Malrow’s right was the daunting yet dignified Amiraa Peluvettah. Her current calm dining demeanor was a contrast to the brother next to her, poking and making fun of the northern cuisine. The youngest of them, the flustered Canderian was the next guest to Desrin’s side. When they had entered, the girl had introduced herself as Lakshiz Bechel. Imuto’s cousin. Or with the obvious looks she gave to Fibi Enderi’s heir Acolyte, she was Cander’s. She was managing well with the small talk Desrin was feeding off, hoping he might find comfort from the aura of intense energy bubbling from those at the head of the table. Right after Bechel were the concealed and closed looks of the Tama twins. The most unexpected members Malrow could have guessed to beguile that evening. And finally balancing the gathered court from each corner of their table, Liege Lord Feudore Dare Grafan sat last beside the Amir.

“Where is the young prince you dressed so divinely?” Imuto appealed to the King. Her mouth was sad but her voice said disappointment. “I could have introduced Bechel to him. The two of them would make a lovely couple.”

Desrin spewed food from his mouth and had unfortunately gorged the dish into his lungs. Malrow could not comfort him, not just because he was out of arm’s reach, but because he had choked on the same beef. Luckily, his quiet coughing felt deaf to the other gawkers alongside him. The Amiraa’s brows were furrowed while her brothers’ flew. One of the twins was patting Desrin’s back as he slowly convulsed and unlogged his throat. 

The King, who seemed used to such talk, could have only accepted Imuto’s inquiry as a joke. He scarcely showed faze and had even offered Malrow a goblet of wine.

“I particularly do not have the choice to make such decisions. The boy is his own.” Arleous said as he took Malrow’s goblet after being downed and made the liberty to pour his guest more. “I had requested you all this evening so that we may talk freely. The prince’s presence is irrelevant.”

“Pardon my impetuousness, your graces,” Selvehin slipped in. “But to pair two Acolyte heirs would be blasphemous.”

“And you took the opportunity to talk freely like a snare, young Amir,” Imuto snorted. “Where do you perhaps have found such laws that say it be a curse to have Acolytes marry each other?” Unlike the youths, both Imuto and Arleous did not take offense and stayed placid.

“I…” Selvehin was made to reply but his sister dashed in first. “None. No laws have stated that any of Enthah’s faces have declared so. Only that no one has done so because it would lead to a continental war.”

“Correct,” Imuto amended.

Malrow was able to recover and gave the King his authentic gratitude. Arleous nodded to him but himself had not bothered to reconnect with the conversation.

“You do know I am here, Grand Lady. Mayhaps you thought you left me back at Efan Kun. I can make my own decisions as well.” When Desrin had recuperated on his own, his eyes were plates as he stared and admired Bechel’s gumption.

“Why did you even come with me in the first place?” Imuto was an amused grandmother. “Like our Greysia here,” she patted Desrin’s shoulder with mirth, “it was either of us who could have attended the blasted meeting.”

Bechel puffed and did not bite. Her heir defeated, Imuto turned to Desrin for more entertainment. “And you. How is your grandmother? I don’t believe she has rickety bones yet. That gal could climb terras with her hands as her legs. Sending your incompetent head could endanger the Arlinmon line.”

Those from Fibi Enderi were used to small libels. To Malrow, it made the speaker raw and truthful. Despite having the natural ability to read minds, the Greysias disliked pretenses and detested politics in all ways. Thus, Desrin had to remind Imuto who his grandmother had actually sent.

“Gram Gram warned me about you Grand Lady,” Imuto beamed at the admonition. “But I had simply joined my lieutenant in his mission to escort and represent Fibi Enderi.” Desrin did not need Malrow’s encouraging gesture, he could simply read his thoughts. “Gram Gram did not want the Senate to think I was here to maneuver for political gain. She does not want from the family this time to enter any branch of governance. So, she made it clear Lieutenant Skiethalon was to be her predecessor.”

“So, she used a lost line from the family,” King Arleous concluded. Malrow froze from his warming stupor. None from the table predicted Arleous’ return to the talk. When the Chrav Lord swiveled his eyes to his companion, Marlow understood that he was to answer him once he said his piece. “Acolyte Greysia sponsored your training in Cheron. The Doyen Lord Vizor himself made you his apprentice and saw your rise in both your academics and the military. Served the realm with efficiency and honor, regardless of the dividing attempts the Pillar-States wanted from the Chrav. You were the best Chustern had in this era. And all without the ability to use eth.”

It was not a question, nor was there an order to justify his success throughout the years. But Malrow knew he needed to be honest with the man. The same man who won the Faharian War in the first place. The same leader who broke regional prejudice and made alliances with the empires. The same ruler who was eating a delicious spiced brisket with the same empires he worked with. Malrow’s need to validate his worth was vital, not only for the future of Fibi Enderi, but for the sake of Entherah entirely.

“I am of the Fae Folk, my Lord,” Malrow began, his throat dry. “I have no origin, but the Skiethalon brought me to Senator Reneilsa in the hopes of claiming relations and relieving the family’s woes. I am here to serve the realm like my blood binds me.”

King Arleous had no daggers to sharpen his gaze burrowing him, but Malrow felt the small electricity of controlled eth trickling against his skin. It were the withheld phantoms the Acolyte of Chustern drew both his strength and wisdom from. The Chrovan Thra. The two beings must have been whispering inside their vassal when it took the King a moment to reply.

Arleous nodded. The most Malrow could receive from the architect of their private meeting. When the Chrav Lord took to his other guests, his hand on their invisible agenda was like concrete and chains. His crimson eyes wandered amongst them before landing on Imuto’s copper. The Imperial Daughter somehow approved the gathering’s integrity and promise of servitude with a smirk.

“Enthah bless us, for the time to make our move is nigh,” Arleous addressed their bewildered faces. “A Faharian War is coming and this time it seeks to destroy the first house it had fallen against.”