There's a battle outside, and it's raging...

[Jirai]

A battle between two men, at least. Trey Milson and Liam Wright were becoming exceedingly vocal for their causes, with Trey supporting Councilor Helstone's position, and Liam siding with the Interim Governor. Each man argued vehemently for his own position, striving to convince anyone they happened upon. Their views were clearly visible, each wearing a sash. A blue sash for Helstone, grey for Giscard. Two men alone, though, were not much of a problem.

But they were beginning to aquire followings.

For a small fee (of course) one could purchase a sash in the appropriate color. These sashes were being seen more and more frequently around the town. For all their arguing and shouting, though, the two men agreed on one thing: If you did not choose a side, you must be a traitor.

Which side will you choose?

[Treadwell]

"Blue sashes and gray sashes, you say? Why? Those funny biglings just seem to get more and more foolish, mmph mmph!"

"I'm afraid I don't know for certain, Your Majesty. The name's 'Helstone' and 'Guillaume' came up frequently, though."

"Well, which one is for taking which side for which person?"

"The blue ones are for the Helstone fellow, and the gray ones are the other chap."

"But those two men don't have anything to do against each other! They seem to get along nicely!"

"Well, err, apparently they seem to have changed their minds, My Lord. There are letters all over Myrken Wood town, and half of them contradict the other half!"

"Oh dear."

There is a pause as Richard Aengus digests not only this news but another bite of his midnight snack, as well.

"Blue and gray, you said?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Oh dear. And here I am unable to see colors rightly--at least according to the Wiggit brothers! Oh-ho! Get them in here! I wish to see my tailors *tonight!*"

It's well after midnight, but does that cause the messenger to open his mouth in protest? Of course not! Leave that to Richard's personal physician and half-brother, Dr. Orin Barrin, the scrawny, glaring white-wing nearby.

"Richard."

"Mmmm?"

"It's nearly one in the morning, if that water-clock in the square is right."

"Oh."

"So, don't call the Wiggits in tonight. They would be likely to put you in a suit made for a fairy who weighs half what you do."

"You aren't serious!"

"You know what a temper the elder Wiggit boy has, and he's not above mischief."

"Mmph mmph. Fine. Lad," he notes, turning to the blue-winged messenger standing near him still, "tell them to come here first thing tomorrow. I'll see them after breakfast."

"Richard."

"What is it, Orin?"

The doctor sighs.

"Oh, forget about it. I'm off to bed." The doctor thus leaves with a huff, leaving a bewildered Richard Aengus looking after him for a moment. Then?

"Your Majesty?" The messenger squeaks up.

"Oh! Yes, yes! Tomorrow after breakfast! I'll figure out this sash business by then!"