An Auspicious Invitation

[Reinstadler]

To Sir Malaroth Deucalios, Grand Master

Sir Malaroth,

You have my strongest congratulations on your recent naming to the Judiciary Council. I had begun to worry Calomel planned on consolidating all military power within his own hands indefinitely, something that would have obviously worried the crown and opponents of tyranny everywhere. Such hoarding of power almost always stems from and leads to the darkest corruption.

I hope that you will be able to stop by my abode sometime today or tomorrow, before your new responsibilities begin in earnest. Your last missive opened my eyes to the rebuilding of your Chapter House and it would please me greatly if we could speak about what contributions I could make towards that endevour and those to come considering your new position.

Graf Josef Reinstadler

[Malaroth]

He had sent a response back rather swiftly, a simple and polite acceptance of the invitation to meet with this particular emissary. That he had come from the King as an emissary of His Majesty spoke well enough of the man, although it certainly did not say anything about the man's honor. There were many villains who hid behind and within courts. However, the man had not only offered congratulations, which was rare amongst the movers and shakers of Myrken Wood, but also support, which had proven nearly nonexistant.

The following day the Grand Master knight followed the letter's trail back towards its author, comfortable enough traveling alone. His dark horse bore him faithfully along, an enormous beast carefully swathed in chain and plate barding. There would be no mistaking that those who saw the armored knight pass would think him, or his steed, anything but creatures acquainted with war. For his part, clad in mail and spurs, was steel givne shape, armed with a trophy of the Ashfiend's demise in which he had proved his mettle, and a secondary blade across his back as a symbol of the order itself.

To closer observers he bore the blades in similiar fashion as the Ashfiend had - one for his side, the same side, and one angled similarly across the breadth of an armored back. A black tabard lay as a grim field for the silvery shepherd's crook boldly declaring his allegiance. The length of golden-silvered hair, spilling about shoulders, identified him as the Grand Master himself.

With many thoughts on his mind, concerning this Reinstadler, the future of the knighthood and the fate of Myrken, he dismounted and made ready to meet the emissary.

[Reinstadler]

Reinstadler knew very little of Zachea. He knew that Malaroth did not spend much time at Razasan. It meant that he had little idea what the knight might expect upon this visit. He had little idea on what his guest's initial reactions might be towards the wealth that the young nobleman made sure to display. Truthfully, it hardly mattered. A staged first impression would be nice but it was hardly necessary.

Malaroth was greeted at the door by a servant and treated with the proper respect. He was led on to the same room where Karolinger met with the Graf not long ago. Josef was well-dressed, as usual. There was always the slightest military tint to his clothes but he managed the look without seeming completely out of place or pretentious. There was, as usual, a very fine ceremonial fencing sword at his side. The slight scars upon his hands and under his ear perhaps spoke upon his experience in using it, for sport at least.

"Welcome to my home away from home, as it is." He rose and offered a hand to Malaroth. His accent was unmistakable but not extreme, more regional than would be expected given his position. "You will have some tea, I hope? My own personal stock as opposed to what passes for quality here." It was more explanatory than arrogant. This would be different from what Malaroth usually tasted.

[Malaroth]

This would, indeed, be different than what Malaroth normally tasted. Neither in Zachea, nor Myrken, had the knight been given to meetings with nobles or politicians. In his distant homeland he had been a man of both the war room and the field of battle, leading from the front, the center, and the rear whether in the dismal caverns beneath Balorn Keep or the choked avenues of a burning Sidgar.

With his mount taken care of, the armored Grand Master moved inside and followed the servant to a room of a certain degree of opulance with a small king of its own whose decorated blade and mildly harmed hands hinted at some familiarity with combat. Myrken seemed to possess a degree of fencers, like this one from the capital and the court, despite it being an often brutal land. Finesse, in his experience, grew greater with the more civilized and outwardly peaceful a land became. Outwardly, he considered, being the key term. There were courts that were every bit as dangerous as the battlefields of Myrken and Zachea combined.

He regarded this man, caught up in his finery, with a carefully brief scrutiny. Cerulean eyes set deeply beneath a strong brow took a quick and cursory measure, noting the strength of the returned grasp as they clasped hands, the lingering of Reinstadler's gaze upon his own, the ease with which he moved. A smile, small but sincere, crossed slender lips framed in a neatly trimmed goatee. For a man of young years yet his visage stubbornly clung to a distinctly ashen hue and dark rings nested beneath those eyes.

"A pleasure," he offered gently before moving to take his seat with a gentle muttering of chain mail and spurs. "Yes, please," followed shortly thereafter for the tea after settlign himself upon a chair. His arms fell upon the chair's, palms curling downward, fingers splayed and idly tapping, momentarily, against the furniture.

"My thanks also for your congratulations, and my apologies for my ignorance in how one address an emissary. I fear," he added with a small degree of genuine chagrin, "that I have not had opportunity to exercise my courtly skills in some time and etiquette," he lingered there with a soured note, "is not deemed terribly important here."

[Reinstadler]

It was a rather new experience for both of them. Josef was quite familiar with men with titles, but he had met few functional knights. At least, he had met few of the sort that would run off and fight ghouls in full armor on horseback and with a long lance. There was a taste of this long in his family's past but such pursuits were hardly the fashion at Court these days. It meant something

So perhaps the gaze that studied Malaroth now was a slightly curious one at what must have seemed like a foreign oddity, even a relic. It would not show. Nothing but an intense, confident focus would be apparent. There were times when he feigned disinterest. There were times when he honestly was disinterested. This was neither. In Myrken, many in positions of power were young. This interested him so very much.

Both men took their seats and the servant who had previously let Malaroth in now moved to fetch the tea. Reinstadler would increase his personal staff soon, but only when truly trustworthy men could be found, not necessarily ones who could not be bought, but instead ones whose price the Graf knew well.

"Ah." A matter of protocol; not entirely unexpected from a man who lived his life by a code. Still Josef was glad to answer. Such a question, asked at least somewhat in earnest, was welcome. At least someone here was not too much a fool to admit their ignorance. "Protocol indicates that you refer to me as Graf Reinstadler and I refer to you as Sir Deucalois. Thus both of our titles are acknowledged, though not necessarily our positions. Were we to encounter one another in less pleasant circumstances or with less pleasant intent, those would come into play." He was not calling him Grand Master though. The opposite was true. Neither was he calling him Malaroth.

Reinstadler waved the matter aside with a movement of his hand. Unless the Zachean had further questions on this matte,r there were other things to speak about. "Etiquette is certainly not practiced much here. I regret to inform you that I've seen little in the way of respect and dignity either. It is a testament to your prowess, patience, and resolve that you have had successes here. I congratulate you for that as well.

"In all honesty, I would hear more of those successes, if you do not mind speaking of them. I wish to better understand Myrken while I am here, and in this strange place, it is so very hard to separate truth from fantasy."

[Malaroth]

"Well then, Graf Reinstadler," he began in a firm voice, pleasant and dignified, as he settled back upon the chair. Pale hands drift a moment to his abdomen, straightening the black tabard that crawls up his chest having seated himself. "My thanks for your knowledge concerning protocol. As you can guess," he hesitates a moment with a wry grin, "there is precious little of it here. Governors gone missing, impersonated, ousted and seized at whims and worse."

The emissary's question only hardens that smirk into a near-grimace, a gentle cringing at what victories he has won here. "You ask a telling question, Graf. My successes have been almost entirely of a purely military matter. Myrkenfolk are almost xenophobic, and ever since my arrival I have been greeted with suspicion and scorn save for the barest handful of people."

A lengthy pause then as blue eyes harden, set above dark rings worn into his
flesh, and metal creeps easily into a voice that has bemoaned and railed against the closed inner-circle of Myrken leadership from someone who might prove sympathetic - and useful.

"My adherence to protocol has earned me some grief from the acting Governor. Furthermore, my willingness to hunt down the Ashfiend was greeted with distinct hostility and suspicion by many, and I consider still is by some. The victories of the knighthood are owed more to patience in dealing with a populace we are here to defend but very often snubbed by, at least by the leadership; the bravery of the knights themselves, and His Majesty's support that allowed for the order in the first place."

Another pause to reign in stirred feelings. A bitter seed of animosity, buried and watered only in secret moments of aimless frustration, breaks through his consciousness with a distinctly satisfying pain. A fresh breath, a means of release, though his countenance remains composed. His grimace waxes apologetic as he leans forward, hands clasping loosely upon his lap.

"My apologies for speaking quite so.. vehemently. I can say that we did all, somehow, manage to strive together to see the Ashfiend ended. That is our truly greatest accomplishment. With my election to the Council, as well as serving His Majesty, I am in a favorable position to prepare the populace for defending against the many monsters that plague this backwater land."

[Reinstadler]

The slightest of smiles came over the Graf's face. "Sir Deucalios, it is my pleasure to educate in this matter. Part of the problem here in Myrken is that there are too few people willing to put their foot down and demand protocol be followed. Those that do wish for such things are regrettably undereducated, through no fault of their own. If I can help to inspire even a little civility in my time here, I will consider it a personal victory."

And then he would listen to Malaroth's harsh words. This ties into why he had invited the Knight here. Now that he had taken the man's measure, he could move forward. "I have heard of some of Governor Calomel's more suspicious actions upon seizing office." Karolinger had spoken with him after all. Of course he would mention that to the Graf. Of course, Reinstadler would follow up to learn more about it, the validity of it all. "One of these was to secure the annulment of the contract with Janeiro on the grounds that the late Councilor al'Nerun had created an unfair agreement with Myrken for himself."

Would Malaroth understand where he was going here? Perhaps. If not, he would make it clear. "I would not have Calomel try such an argument against you. The crown was wise in providing your Order with support. I am not without means of my own through my family's holdings. I cannot offer as much as his Highness, of course, but I can help to see your Chapter House restored and to support a restoration to your previous numbers. In return, I would simply hope... and expect that you will continue to act as you have, with dignity and honor, in protecting this land." The Graf stared with cool eyes at the man across the ornate table. Would his charity be accepted?

[Malaroth]

The man was some sort of political viper. The Graf did not strike him as a fop nor a fool, but someone with an agenda. Whether it was for good, ill, or neither was not his to suppose. For all his thoughts, churning and sealing his visage into an ashen-hued mask, he offers a thoughtful nod for the man's offer, for his other words, for his assessment of Myrken Wood.

"Any support you are willing to provide would be welcome," he offered in a firm voice, though accepted with an arched eyebrow at mention of the nature of how Calomel removed the contract. That mild inquisitiveness melts easily into a gentle frown.

"Proper channels are proper channels. But I must confess that I am not unhappy to see the Brotherhood no longer a viable option for defending Myrken. This land does not need the likes of Karolinger meandering around half-naked and half drunk, nor of any who would even consider choosing loyalty to him above the people."

His gaze narrows once more, though it is not an insult or an insinuation. Given the emissary's experience there is some trust the Graf will pick up on the knight's true meaning. "Myrken's military falls under my jurisdiction now. Under my hand we will do things properly, or as properly as is allowed."

A sincere excitement begins to brew however, upon that so-often grim countenance of Malaroth the Miserable, the Mad. Thoughts of digging deeply beneath the Chapter House and who is to occupy the corridors there in the dark and the deep. "I have several interesting ideas to provide true protection for the people of this land," he continued, pausing a moment for a sip of tea. "Both militaristic and ideological. The people complain during the day that His Majesty does nothing, and then at night that His Majesty 's forces are not welcome here. This is a contradictory impulse I mean to end."

[Reinstadler]

"History has shown time and time again how dangerous an overreliance upon foreign protection can be, even the best-paid foreign protection." The Graf would take Malaroth's words for what they were and not reply to the subtext. Neither man was fooling the other. Neither man was trying. "In fact, I think it will be for the best that many of the men who will join your revitalized knights will be Myrken-born. People, especially the sort that we have here, will go to great lengths to protect what is theirs."

"Nonetheless, I mean to support your endevours, as best I can." What was good enough for the king was good enough for this man. That was the idea being presented, even if it was mostly unspoken. "People's attitudes here are small-minded, as you say, but they need protection nonetheless, perhaps more so than in other regions, if the stories are true. I imagine all of the danger feeds the xenophobia, thereby creating a sort of vicious circle that drives this land ever closer to its doom. I do not envy your task. However, as I previously said, I mean to help financially if you allow it." He would sip carefully from the wineglass. Malaroth's mind is obviously working. That was plain to see. "I would hear some of those ideas of yours, Sir Deucalios. I see already the true mettle of the man I would invest in for Myrken's future, but I assure you that even for a man such as I, specifics often generate as much interest as the general picture."

[Malaroth]

A thoughtful and understanding nod for this man and a legitimate interest inw hat his money would be going to fund. Malaroth leaned back in his chair and shifted a moment, fingers loosening and recurling about themselves as his brow furrowed in deliberate and ponderous thought.

"I envision several things," he began as the plans began to gather, one by one, within his mind and to spill over his lips. "Firstly, appropriate siege defenses for the Myrkentown walls, such as stationary trebuchet. Such engines would do much to deter certain forces from an outright assault."

"Secondly, I propose to combine the militia and military into one cohesive unit. If we are to survive militaristically we need an army, and not some soldiers and throngs of volunteers. This army will combine both militia and current military as I said, along with the knighthood itself which already possesses, within it, a great deal of untapped military experience and leadership potential." Two of those fingers uncurled, tapping lightly against the edge of the table before him as if sounding out his own thoughts in some strange code before venturing onward with them.

"On a similiar vein, I would establish the Chapter House as Myrken's militaristic center. This would involve rebuilding the Chapter House, stronger, larger, and with more space for growth. It is also at the geographical heart of Myrken Wood which makes it ideal for centering such activities as road patrols and the like. Furthermore, and this was my most recent idea and a method with which to combat an idelogical struggle..."

The knight leaned forward, hair tumbling forward about the strong breadth of hardened shoulders molded from tested viscera and smoldering combat with much training between the two. "An order of spies and other such... silent... operatives. Not to silence dissent or anything quite so tyrranical, but a body that might move to police those whose power over the populace is great."

Leaning back, his hands parting as if to frame his idea, he continued, "those whose power could threaten the sovreignty of the crown's rule."

[Reinstadler]

Interesting, interesting indeed. It was not quite ambition that Reinstadler sensed in the man across from him. Not quite, not exactly, and the Graf would be one to know. No, but then this burned using the same fuel. Opportunity. he would nod with each point.

Deucalios was willing to make use of those walls Cinnabar raised. He was not fool enough to refuse to acknowledge anything he does not create himself. Flexibility, there. The second point was interesting. A true and considerable standing army. There would be resistance there. Josef did not need to be as entrenched as Karolinger to realize that. Farmers were not soldiers. Still, it would make Myrken formidable if he could manage it, almost too formidable. Ah, the third made sense. "That is, perhaps, where my patronage may be best put to use." The king had helped raise the last Chapter House. He would help to raise this one.

Now, though, young Reinstadler, even with all of his training and experience, found himself unable to hold in that smile. "Such men can be so very hard to trust, Sir Deucalios. Those who can be trusted most tend to least wish to peer into the lives of others." A hand waved this particular problem away. "Ah, but I should explain myself. To survive in the heart of power one must always suspect those around him. The court is full of the fear of such men, an air of constant suspicion. Some belong to the crown, some move it, and some serve powers that you would never suspect." He seemed amused by the entirity of the matter. What an interesting suggestion by a man who lived by so noble a code. "It is not a decision to make lightly. Once the genie is unbottled, things will never be the same again. Still, if you are assured of the need, feel free to come to me for consultation on such matters. As I said, one learns to survive in such a climate at the court or one simply ceases to survive at all. I would share what I have learned if you think it necessary, for the sake of civility and order, and for the sake of the Crown." Reinstadler only tacked on that last bit for the sake of tacking it on. The knight seemed to be playing a different sort of game here. He would humor him by including the crown, as the other man had, but it was almost an afterthought, a polite formality so what Malaroth was truly focused upon need not be raised.

[Malaroth]

A few thoughtful nods as the man responded. The Grand Master was never able to conceal when thoughts were wandering across his mind, churning and boiling, building fervently upon themselves or cascading and falling to pieces.

"Excellent points, all, Graf Reinstadler," he pensively began, his brow again furrowed with thought. "However, it is precisely for civility and order that I feel such men are needed. The government before this was set in place by revolt. Now power has changed hands due to one man's bid for power. Since my election to the Council I have been increasingly alarmed with how much power he may be granting to those without any true office, station or even basic training."

His lips twisted as if tasting something sour, his own words repugnant for the truth they held, and quirked aside in reflective grimace.

"I was hoping His Majesty might be able to send a handful of such men here, who are already loyal to the crown, and I might use them to establish a base of operations here that, too, could grow. Not all of Myrken's enemies are undead fiends and demons and bandits. Some are insidious, and some, I fear, may be only human. Perhaps," he leaned forward, eyebrow again arched in query as he paused a moment to clear his throat, "you might know of such men who are loyal to the king, and who would serve him, through me, in Myrken?"

[Reinstadler]

He had warned caution for the knight. He had been rather kind in his own way to do so. Deaucalios had taken that warning and pushed on nontheless. Moreover, he had asked for such direct assistance. Perhaps the Graf had been reading him incorrectly from the start. What was obvious was the drive here. It took a bit of effort to pause, to think things over. Such things were not responded to lightly, even when the answer was obvious enough.

"There is no question about the lack of a certain credability when it comes to Calomel. He reminds me in many ways of the traitor Burel." That was an honest admission but not one that he had been exactly quiet about. "That is partially why I am intent on staying for a time, to see that such blatant mistakes are not repeated here." Basic training seemed to be something sorely lacking in Myrken. Perhaps that was another reason that he lingered, for he was well trained indeed. He felt sympathy for Malaroth on that matter, so much as he felt sympathy for the man at all.

Here was where the Graf had to restrain himself the most. He did admirably, though. What an interesting request. He would suspect treachery in it if not for the fact that there was so little to be gained by it. "Myrken is hardly a lucrative posting. It will take some effort to find those suitable for what you have in mind." It will be a very delicate endevour and it will take some time, I am afraid." It was also, obviously, very different than simply offering financial aid and some advice. "... but, your intentions are admirable, Sir Deucalios. Fine. I will write home immediately to look into the process of securing those necessary resources that can be properly reallocated to Myrken. You will hear from me again on this matter in a little over a week. That is satisfactory, I imagine?"

[Malaroth]

There were decisions that, once made, could not be undone. The Graf had warned him and, with his following words, the strength of that reminder returns once more to hiss warnings about paths of no return through a conscience mildly embittered and frustrated with the ever-dawning realization of how congealed and castigated Myrken political power might truly be.

"On second thought," he offered in a slow and ponderous murmur. "I would rather hold off on such means for the now. It may be I will be able to make progress without them in helping this land get back on track, but I hope it is something we could both discuss at length in the possibly near future? Regardless, I certainly welcome your assistance with the Chapter House, and I'm sure the people and His Majesty would as well."

A thoughtful pause as his confession, his request, brings his thoughts from the inward, seething collision towards this man before him.

"If I may ask," he began, "how did you come to be a royal emissary?"

[Reinstadler]

Would the Graf feel some sort of disappointment for the results of his warning? Hardly. It was his experience that things that came too easy in life were never worth nearly as much as they first seemed. So easy a victory would have made him complacent at best. At the same time, if Calomel continued on his current path, it would be a victory that would still come, and that would be through a decision of the knight's that was not half as unsure. "It is wise not to rush into such a thing, Sir Deucalios. I am at your disposal when it comes to such talks to come, and as you say, certainly so in the present when it comes to your Chapter House."

Ah, but here was a personal question and Reinstadler's interest waned somewhat because of it. There was little to gain here. He rolled his shoulders slightly and sipped at his wine once more. "It is the responsibility of my blood, Sir Deucalios. I know not how you came to your responsibilities, but I was born into mine. It is a duty of blood to see to the well-being of my lessers. That is best accomplished through service to the crown." He spoke without much interest, but also without any apparent guile. It seemed that to the Graf, his words went without saying. If he was trying to play Malaroth for a fool, there was little indication of it.