syrahnbloodfeather

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Circled by the Wolves Pt 2

The Amber Glade continued to reel from the void elf attack on the Market Square. So many luxury items now had to be exported from other regions of the Eastern Kingdoms, or even from Kalimdor, on the other side of Azeroth. Shipments were often delayed for days, leaving the Bloodfeather sisters yet again with few options this early in the morning.

Syrahn felt her soul twist and writhe in her body with every sip of her bitter coffee. Her toast was without butter, without flavor, and therefore without purpose. At least her bacon was edible; that's what she first thought before the first bite, anyway. It was vegan bacon… made out of tofu. Her disappointment was immeasurable and her day was ruined.

“I suppose we should get on with this meeting without Ijiro.” Viridias pulled her messy mob of hair away from her face before straightening up in her seat. “Did you want to go first, Miriam?”

Miriam looked almost as miserable as Syrahn, but for vastly different reasons; the vineyards went up in flames thanks to those void elves, and all that was left to drink was Valasar's Grand, a dessert wine she wouldn't be caught dead drinking. For the first time in a long time, she was completely sober. “Public opinion of our house has been on a steady decline since the attack. You would think rebuilding their shops and the generous compensation we've given would solve this problem, but no. They're as stupid as they are greedy.”

“No amount of gold will bring their families and friends back.” Syrahn said, with a chill in her voice.

She either pretended not to notice or she didn't care, Syrahn couldn't read her while she was sober. “They want justice, not empty promises. Until we find who is behind this, their opinion of us is only poised to get worse.”

“I don't suppose anyone has any good news hidden somewhere?” Viridias sighed, before taking a bite of her butterless toast. Before Syrahn or Miriam could answer, a subtle whistling snagged the words in their throats. The song was annoyingly cheerful, and one Syrahn had heard many times before.

Right on cue Ijiro opened the door and stepped in, with his ridiculously large wolf Zaar trending behind him. “Goooooood moooorrrniiiinng!” His booming voice wasn't kind on their ears, but Syrahn was angry at him long before he strolled in here; she awoke this morning to find he slipped away from their bed in the dead of night, and her cruel imagination got the better of her senses. “Ahh, Viri is all natural today, yeah?” He plucked her hand off the table and gently kissed her knuckles. “The years have been very kind to you, my dear. As breathtaking today as a century ago.” Viridias didn't know what to say to that, but her ruby red face said enough. Miriam stiffened once Ijiro turned to look at her with a big, dumb, crooked smile on his face. “Grumpier than usual, yeah? How about a big hug from your brother!”

“Touch me and Syrahn will ever find your rema-guhhh!” She couldn't even finish her threat before his strong arms were around her, scooping her out of her seat and holding up tightly. Ijiro even gave her a light pack on the cheek, causing Miriam to shudder… not from rage nor discomfort, but from something much more concerning.

Syrahn watched her sisters like a starving lynx. She suspected they haven't felt the embrace of a man in quite some time, but for them to be this touch-starved? It raised a few questions Syrahn wasn't sure she wanted answered. She knew and trusted Ijiro wouldn't forsake his vows, or she wouldn't have married him; but would her sisters tempt him? She was so preoccupied with studying her sisters she didn't notice her husband until it was too late to stop him.

His coarse hands wrapped around her chin and pinch her cheeks together, forcing her lips to part. The long and gentle kiss tasted so good Syrahn nearly forgot why she was upset in the first place. “How's my queen and little Ijiro jr. doing?”

“His name is Alu.” Syrahn corrected in a hushed tone. “And not so loud! Zaetan is just down the hall!” Ijiro gave her a sly smirk before downing her cup of black coffee.

“If you're done trying to flatter us,” Miriam sneered, “Maybe you can add something useful to this meeting.”

The sky grin on his face only grew larger at his sister's sass. “I believe I can manage that.” Ijiro reached into his vest and tossed a plain envelope onto the table.

“A letter?” Viridias raised a brow.

“A lead.” The three sisters exchanged skeptical glances before Miriam reached over to give it a read. “This morning I paid House Hearthdust a visit. Apparently they are good at finding information and… items of particular value.”

“That's where he went?” Syrahn thought, gulping dryly; she tried to remember if Lord Parneus had any daughters, but no names came to mind. Zaar noticed how tense she was becoming, and slipped underneath the table to rest his head on her lap. The wolf's head felt like it belonged to a Silverpine Grizzly, but most of it was thick black and graying fur. Syrahn felt her toes begin to tingle from the weight of the wolf putting her legs to sleep, but one look in his deep yellow eyes and she couldn't resist scratching behind his ears.

“And you trust them…” Miriam spoke with a tone more befitting an accusation than a question.

“Of course not.” Ijiro's retort was quick and indignant. “No one else has stepped up with a lead, and the longer we wait, the sooner they try something again. We can't afford to dismiss this, yeah?”

It was Syrahn's turn to throw her opinion out there. “Awfully nice for them to hold this information from us… why didn't they bring this up sooner?”

“My threat to the great houses seemed to make them take this a lot more urgently.” Ijiro leaned against the table and watched Miriam’s eyes dart back and forth while she read the letter in silence. “So… do you think it's the real deal?”

“If this letter is to be believed...” Miriam paused to continue reading, but once she reached the end, her gaze returned to Lord Bloodfeather. “This House Duskthorn mentions Lord Atharil Dawnvale… a man King Anasterian publicly executed for treason. Maybe they are working with the surviving members of his family? Maybe they are House Dawnvale reborn...?”

“One of the great families is working with them... we find one of his lackeys, we put his feet to the fire, we learn who hired them.” Ijiro stood up straight and crossed his arms. “How’s that for a lead, eh?”

“The High Kingdom is a big place. Finding their hideout could take months. Maybe even years.” Miriam frowned. “How do we even start this search?”

“We'll work out the details later. Right now we need to make sure House Hearthdust is genuine… and this letter isn't a trap.” He briefly stroked his chin before turning his attention to Syrahn's lukewarm toast. Unsurprisingly he left her insult to food everywhere - the vegan bacon - exactly where and how he found it; a single bite taken out of one strip, no more, no less.

Right as he pushed the entire piece of burnt bread into his mouth, a heavy fist knocked on the door. “Forgive me for interrupting,” Zaetan called out, and for an instant Shrahn feared he was eavesdropping this entire time. “But this is urgent.”

“Come in.” Syrahn commanded.

Zaetan swung the door wide open with a host of guards behind him, all of whom were out of breath; Ijiro's largest wolf suddenly slipped away from Syrahn's lap and reappeared between Zaetan and the Bloodfeathers. “My Lord,” Zaetan started, doing his best to ignore the huge beast silently judging him. “it's the Oathguard. They've returned from Argus.”

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Circled by the Wolves Pt 1

Ten minutes after leaving the warmth and embrace of his beloved wife and Ijiro was already regretting this journey. The roaring applause of the pounding rain drowned out bells ringing in the north and the east, with a heavy cloud resting lazily on the whole of the city. What would have easily been a howling blizzard melted into an angry rainstorm thanks to the Eternal Summer’s grip on the High Kingdom, but that only made it more dangerous; if the aqueducts failed for whatever reason, the lowest rungs of the Outer Sprawl would suffer from some serious flooding. Those folks have already endured enough this year. Ijiro did his best to remain vigilant, but in this weather he couldn't see anything beyond a few meters in any direction; all he could focus on was the lantern in his son's hand, which seemed to do more harm than good. Zeth’romas turned the corner and began walking down a flight of stairs, compelling his father to finally say, “Are you sure you know where you’re going? I can’t see shit in this fog, and the rain ain't helping.”

“You probably need glasses, old man. I can see just fine.” He spoke over the rainfall’s chorus. “We’re almost there.” Ijiro opened his mouth to protest, but he couldn’t muster the effort to shout over the rain; he didn’t like being out in the open, especially when he was practically blind by the orange glare of the lantern and the choking morning fog, but he trusted his son more than most. Before long he recognized the long marble pillars arching over his head, and the familiar sound of a thousand raindrops striking leaves and grass instead of cobblestone. He hopped over a puddle large enough to bury his boots in and stepped into the domain of House Hearthdust.

The manor itself was massive. Barely half as tall as the Amber Castle but easily twice was wide, it had to have at least three hundred rooms. When Ijiro and Zeth’romas approached the main door, the nearby guards seemingly ignored their presence until they were close enough to be guided in without a word. “Welcome, esteemed guests.” A slender woman was waiting for them inside, likely told of their coming. “Please, allow us to take your coats and any weapons you may carry. I will escort you to the masters of this humble abode.” Ijiro gave his son a peculiar look, but decided against commenting; he was just happy to bask in the warmth of the nearby fireplace and rid himself of his absolutely drenched cloak. “Right this way.”

Lord Pathis Hearthdust had the foresight to wait in a room near the main entrance. There was a gold encrusted scroll in his hands that certainly looked important, but when he glanced up to see his invited guests, he quickly rolled it up and safely tucked it into his robes. “My sincerest apologies for requesting your presence at such an early hour and under such dreadful weather… but time is of the essence.” Lord Pathis paused only long enough to squeeze himself into a chair clearly not built for an elf of his stature. “Do you know how House Hearthdust amassed our fortune?”

“I don't.” Ijiro pulled out a chair near where Lord Pathis sat and made himself as comfortable as he could. “The story is your house made it by cornering the tavern market, but only fools actually believe that to be true.”

“Correct. Running a network of taverns is certainly a lucrative business, but it's all a front. In truth, we are information brokers. We essentially sell secrets to the right buyers.” A thin smile flashed across Lord Pathis’ lips, but Ijiro wasn’t amused.

“You tell us this now, instead of when you were supposed to? Why?”

“We… didn’t think it was important… at the time.” Lord Pathis nervously scratched at his chin. “We pay twice the tribute - and gladly so. We planned to inform House Bloodfeather once the Amber Glade joined the rest of the Horde to wage war with the Alliance. Truthfully it was your erm… threat… that changed all of that.” With a snap of his fingers the doors behind Lord Pathis opened. Ijiro furrowed his brow at the young boy who entered, a child no older than eight. “This is V’ydaras, my baby brother.”

“M-milord…” The boy squeaked, bowing awkwardly.

“After the attack on the Glade, and your men swept the streets hunting down the Void Elves that ransacked our domain, Daras was the only one with the cunning to look where others didn’t. And his men found this.” Lord Pathis nodded to his little brother and leaned back in his chair. Vy’daras shuffled over to Ijiro’s side with an envelope in his hands. Ijiro turned to give his son Zeth a cautious glance before bringing his attention to the black wax seal keeping the letter closed.

“I don’t recognize this sigil.” He finally admitted, setting it back onto the table.

“It belongs to House Duskthorn. A new house, barely a year old.” Lord Pathis waved at his brother, who scurried to his side. “A Ren’dorei house, Lord Bloodfeather. They are the ones that orchestrated the attack on the Glade. One final question remains… who commanded them?”

“Final question? No… I have quite a few questions. Am I supposed to take your word? Trust you’re telling me the truth, yeah? How do I know you didn’t write this letter, invent this seal yourself, and make up the name of some house I won’t even remember a day from now?” Slowly Ijiro leaned forward to stare at Lord Pathis and his little brother V’ydaras with his single remaining eye. Zeth noticed his father’s right hand was under the table, clutching the hilt of a dagger he likely ‘forgot’ to hand over; he was close enough for a kill, if his wounds haven’t slowed him down enough, but they would never make it out of this mansion alive. “How do I know you didn’t send those men through the breach to find and fuck my wife to death…?”

He was as pale as a ghost, and his little brother looked no better. “I-I…”

“I meant what I said when I addressed all of the great houses.” Anger hung on his every word. “I promised blood. How can you prove this letter is genuine? What are you willing to do to prove your loyalty?”

“Whatever you need to p-put your fears to rest, Lord Bloodfeather…” Lord Pathis stuttered, briefly glancing sharply at his little brother for him to leave.

“Even if it means taking your sister into custody, yeah? What is her name? Alayn, is it?” Ijiro studied his face for any trace of deception; ever since he learned how to play poker so many years ago, he found he had a knack for reading people’s faces.

Lord Pathis was already covered in cold sweat. He swallowed hard before muttering, “Whatever it takes. My Lord.”

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Lord of the Glade

This was the first meeting since the attack on the Glade, and the first one Ijiro’s attended as a Lord, and not Syrahn’s esteemed retainer; if he had it his way, this would be the last one for a long time. He couldn't believe how much he missed facing the horrors of Northrend… at least then the enemy was right in front of you, not hiding behind fake smiles and practiced manners like cowards.

Ijiro sat in the high chair that was molded and shaped to perfectly fit his wife; the seat was large enough, admittedly to his amusement, but the discomfort from the elevated armrests rubbing at his ribs slowly chipped away at his smirk. He was apparently scowling far too much and for too long, as Syrahn reached up and gently squeezed his hand to try and calm him down. Ijiro met her gaze and her soft smile, but he couldn't bring himself to return the favor; someone in this room wants her dead, and he was determined to drag that coward - or cowards - out of hiding. As the Lord of the Amber Glade, it was well within his newly appointed authority to turn the Glade inside out to find them.

“Lord Bloodfeather,” Viridias called, “You seem to have something on your mind. Would you like to say something to the great houses, given recent events?” She couldn't hide her emotions like Miriam; he knew exactly what she wanted, and he had no qualms about doing just that.

Ijiro gave Syrahn’s soft knuckles a quick smooch before releasing his grip to pull himself out of that uncomfortable chair. “I've been informed that being Lord of the ruling house of the Amber Glade has its perks, yeah? The one that makes my word law has held my attention the most.”

“This is true…” Lady Tidebloom assured. “But… we have meetings such as these to offer our grievances for review. While your word is final, it never hurts to hear a second opinion.” She cleared her throat before adding, “With all due respect, my Lord.”

Ijiro glanced back at Syrahn for feedback, but all his wife did was anxiously stare at him in silence. “A High Justicar died on our soil. Not just any human, either… the only Blood Elf within their order, and the only one that kept their order neutral.” Ijiro turned back to face the other families. “... I heard we charged his family for damages to the Glade. How much was that, exactly?”

Lord Hearthdust fumbled with a few scrolls and his reading monocle before answering. “It was… six million, two hundred thousand, and seventy seven gold coins, my Lord.” He then glanced around at the others before saying, “Erm… for the destruction of a priceless statue honoring the late Lord Sunlust… my Lord.”

Ijiro’s scowl returned. “Is this the hill we want to die on? We rob a wife of her husband and a daughter of her father, yeah? Then charge a grieving widow and a weakened house a small fortune for the trouble? Do you not remember what happened to our kingdom when we pushed our allies away the first time?” He didn't bother waiting for an answer. “House Sun’rael could've stopped the recent assault on our home, but they were too busy bleeding from the gold we stole from them to assist us. This farce needs to be corrected. Now.”

Not a single person made a sound. The lords and ladies of these seven great houses stared at Ijiro with varying expressions on their faces, while he simply looked them over. Syrahn stared at the back of her husband’s head before looking around the room; she never dared to be so assertive to the other houses in fear of repercussions. Even now she still feared them. “Every house present will write a letter of apology to House Sun’rael for the irreparable damage we committed on them. The Amber Glade will also pay back the gold we stole, plus interest.”

“My Lord,” Lord Sunpath started, catching Ijiro’s attention. “This hardly seems appropriate… Alucieus laid waste to our home… it is only fitting th-”

“This isn’t up for debate. Or review.” Lord Bloodfeather turned to face the old elf. “We're giving back their six mil, plus two more mil for the trouble.”

Low voices whispered to each other in light of the news. Lady Starsurge piped up for the first time in recent memory. “How will we pay these reparations? This month’s tribute has already been collected.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Ijiro slowly scratched his chin and neck while he pondered the problem for a bit. “Lady Viridias, you’ve been doing a good job watching the Glade’s goldflow, yeah? Where could we get the funds for this dilemma?”

“We have a great feast planned for the end of the month during the Pilgrim’s Bounty, Lord Bloodfeather.” She proudly announced, glancing over at Lord Sunpath across the room. “Not to mention our Winter's Veil festival, and our New Year's celebration.”

“Cancel them all.” Lord Bloodfeather commanded. “Allocate the gold for House Sun’rael, and whatever we have left will go into rebuilding the businesses that were burned down or destroyed from the recent attack.”

Syrahn never once thought Ijiro would be so well suited for this position. Ever since she gained an interest in him, the thought of him blundering around the minefield infamously known as Sin’dorei politics kept her resistant to his charm for nearly a year. Yet here he was, once again succeeding her expectations. Her heart fluttered when he glanced over his shoulder to look her over; she felt a great sense of pride when he gazed at her with his single emerald eye, but neither her feelings nor her smile lasted much longer.

“Speaking of the attack, the Glade is currently under martial law, as you all know.” Ijiro almost immediately sounded out of breath - a surefire sign of his rising anger. He paused only to walk around his family’s table to stand in the center of the room. “Void Elves slipped into the Glade and ravaged plenty of homes, and businesses… and families. Lots of good folks died, yeah…? But something isn’t adding up. Lor’themar Theron himself sent the local Silvermoon Guard to comb Eversong clean of any Void Elves, but these monsters had to come from somewhere, right?” Ijiro began pacing back and forth, looking almost ready to start swinging. “I have reasonable suspicion at least one of you plotted to take my wife’s life!”

Lord Greyshade looked incredibly uncomfortable, but said nothing; the other lords and ladies present weren’t so respectful. They whispered in low voices to each other with most of them openly questioning Ijiro’s mental state to be making accusations like this.

“Now, I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Lots of things, in fact.” Lord Bloodfeather took in a deep breath before pointing an accusing finger at them. “I’m a wrathful man. Always have been… but my father also taught me about patience. Understanding… and above all… mercy.” He turned to glare at Lord Greyshade as he said, “If you admit to these crimes, I’ll banish you and your house on the morrow. But… no one will be harmed, yeah?” He then turned to face Lord Sunpath to get a good look at his hardened frown, then to Lady Starsurge, then to Lord Bladewhisper. “If I have to catch your scent and run you down… I promise you. There. Will. Be. Blood. So what’s it gonna be?”

There was only silence.

“So be it.” Ijiro’s posture finally relaxed. “My family and my two guard captains will stay here. The rest of you are dismissed.” Syrahn stared at her husband in shock while the others slowly shuffled out of the room; suddenly she felt very lightheaded, and only managed to regain herself once he began his return to her side.

“A fine mess you just made.” Miriam hissed. “Secrecy was our greatest asset, and you just tossed it out with the bathwater. Was threatening the entire Amber Glade a gut reaction, or did you plan this madness from the beginning of this meeting?!”

Ijiro eyed his new sister-in-law before answering. “Planned.” He then turned his attention back to Syrahn. “Two things are gonna happen now. Either they’ll be so pissed some lowborn trash made them a fool, and make more mistakes… or they’ll try to lay low so I don’t catch on. Either way, you’re safer. That’s all that matters.” Miriam opened her mouth to protest, but instead took another deep swig of her glass of wine.

“I quite enjoyed seeing the shock on their faces.” Viridias leaned back in her chair with a gentle shrug. “Do you have a plan, Lord Bloodfeather?”

“I want a list of every elf we can trust. From the heads of the great houses to the lowly stable boys. I need to know who our allies are before I can start my search, yeah?” He whipped around to face Lord Zaetan and Lord Victus, who both stiffened in attention. “Also I don’t need two guard captains. One of you needs to go.” Before Syrahn could open her mouth to speak, he pointed to Lord Victus. “I want your boots on the ground outside. Make sure the guards are on high alert until I say otherwise, and start rebuilding the Market Square. Every minute those people suffer without our aid, or money and morale drains, yeah?”

“At once, my Lord.” Lord Victus shot Lord Zaetan a smug grin before leaving to attend to his duties.

Zaetan let out a soft sigh before relaxing his shoulders. “I… don’t believe I’ve ever been fired before, my Lord.”

“Think of it more as a promotion. You can swing that sword, right? Or is it just to discourage petty criminals?” Ijiro asked, crossing his arms.

His eyes flickered for a moment while he studied Lord Bloodfeather before answering. “I’ve swung it well so far, my Lord.”

“Good. I want you to be Syrahn’s personal retainer. She needs someone who can defend her when I’m not around, and I need that snake in the grass Victus away from the Amber Castle as often as possible. And by Amber Castle, I of course mean my wife.”

Lord Zaetan straightened up with a satisfied grin. “I'll begin daily patrols in her tower. Thank you, my Lord.”

Ijiro shot a  glance over at Syrahn-and his two sister-in-laws. “Get the gold ready for the journey to the Sun’rael Estate. Syrahn, I think you should send a letter ahead, yeah? Your handwriting will forever be better than mine.”

“O-okay…” Syrahn managed to squeak out, stirring her husband to gently grasp her hands. When he went to release her, she only tightened her grip on his coarse fingers. “I… we need to tell you something important.” Both Viridias and Miriam took the cue to give them some space, and headed back to their duties without another word. “I haven't had a stomach ache all this time you've been home… Jiro…” Syrahn took in a deep breath before letting it out. “I'm pregnant with a son.”

Lord Bloodfeather suddenly looked like he was punched in the gut. He stumbled back a few steps while his eye snapped to Syrahn’s stomach, with shock and disbelief radiating from his face. “What…” Ijiro started, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Why did you wait to tell me this?”

“I didn't want you blurting it out in front of the other houses.” She answered calmly, but her brow instinctively furrowed before continuing with, “... are you angry with me?”

“Angry? Never.” Ijiro couldn’t help but let out a weakened laugh. “I must be a fool for not noticing, yeah? Didn’t think this would… happen so soon… despite our um… ‘meetings’ every time I was back for resupply, heheh…”

“Promise me you won’t tell the other houses.” A shiver ran up Syrahn’s spine when she said those words; as long as her attempted murderer was still hiding in the shadows, none of her family would be safe. Not even the youngest addition to House Bloodfeather. “At least until we can sort this nightmare out.”

Ijiro glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone before gently pressing his hand against her slightly extended stomach. “You have my word.” He glanced up into her eyes again. “Have you settled for any names yet?”

“I’ve mulled over a few good ones.” Syrahn answered. “But I think… I think I’ll name him Alu.”

Slowly Ijiro nodded before a faint smile spread across his lips. “Alu it is, then.”

Mentions: @alucieussunrael @k-sunrael @house-sunrael

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Adrift in Eternity Finale

The deep orange warmth of the sun gently nudged Syrahn out of her deep sleep, with the embrace of her happiness making her body feel so light she could swear she was still adrift in a dream; now married to the man of her sweetest desires, aching from his lustful appetite, she truly felt wonderful- far better than she has in years, perhaps better than ever. Her sleep schedule took almost as great a pounding as she did, but she was still giddy from her marriage, and showed no signs of mellowing down anytime soon.

Syrahn clumsily reached out to wake her husband for another round, but her fingers touched only more blankets. Her groggy eyes opened to find herself alone. Slowly she pushed herself upright to glance around, rubbing what little sleep remained out of her eyes before recognizing distant voices. Ijiro was too far away to comprehend what he was saying, compelling the Glade Queen to press her numb feet against the cold carpet, slip into a nightgown, and begin her cautious advance to the next level down from her chambers.

Keep reading

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Adrift in Eternity Pt 2

“Walk with me.” Viridias slipped her hand under Syrahn’s arm and gently squeezed at her fingers. Slowly they began her long ascent up the hill as familiar faces turned to grin at her. Doral’s cousins were giggling with barely-contained excitement, and doing almost everything they could to get her attention before one of their brothers began smacking each of them upside the head. To her right Seranas Starsurge nodded at her with a slight grin on her lips, holding her three year old brother while he relentlessly chewed on anything he could get his pudgy hands on. Further down Syrahn’s own family watched her with glee, with many of them already crying along with her. Even members of the Oathguard were present, standing along the outer edge with their backs to the cliffs; however the guards stood between them and the houses, and they weren't exactly subtle about keeping them at arm’s distance.

It felt like a dream. Everything was happening so fast Syrahn could swear she was killed in those woods when she was struck, and all of this was some hallucination or purgatory before she joined her ancestors in the Holy Light. Yet this dream was far too real.

She couldn't stop the tears. Viridias held her tightly step by step, feeling and hearing her sniffling but remaining silent herself. Syrahn could barely through her burning eyes, occasionally wiping at her face in a desperate attempt to hide them. She almost managed to pull herself together until she saw Ijiro standing there in the gazebo. He wore a new and improved version of his father's old uniform, once a faded blue, now a brilliant red; he almost looked like a proper lord if it weren't for his disfiguring scars. He was holding his mouth while he watched her approach with a look in his eye she wasn't prepared for, and he too was doing his best not to cry. A great tingling warmth washed over Syrahn the moment she stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“Lords and Ladies of the great houses in the Amber Glade,” Father Lightdew raised his hands and lowered his head while he began speaking. “We stand before the Holy Light and all its creation to bear witness to this sacred union. Let it be known that Syrahn of House Bloodfeather, first of her name, and Commander of the Amber Glade, and Ijiro, Champion of the Bloodsworn Vanguard, are poised to entwine as one body and soul. If there are any among us who wish to challenge this union, let them speak.” Lord Zaetan and Lord Victus were standing guard at the base of the stairs; they furtively exchanged glances, but said nothing. Father Lightdew opened his eyes and studied Syrahn and Ijiro affectionately. “So be it. Lady Bloodfeather, if you would kindly recite the words of your house, so Ijiro may learn them.” Syrahn had butterflies in her stomach when she turned to face him, who in turn gently grasped both of her hands.

“The blood of our fathers run dark on our sons.” There was pride in her voice when she spoke them, hoping he regarded them with as much dignity and respect as she does. “Sins of our old atoned by our young.”

“The fate of our mothers depend on our daughters.” He chimed in, taking Syrahn off guard. “Raging fire belied by calm and still waters.”

Ijiro let Syrahn take in a deep breath before they both said at once,

“Honor. Cowardice. Glory. Shame. One legacy. One fate. One family. One name.”

“I name thee Lord and Lady of House Bloodfeather. Unveil your second half, and rejoice!”

Ijiro lifted her veil and caressed her chin with his hands before leaning forward to lock their lips and seal their marriage. An explosion of applause and shouting swept across all those attending, with House Bloodfeather and Doral’s sisters in the very back being the loudest among them. Syrahn could feel her face burning as she wrapped her arms around him. The kiss was a promise, one Ijiro had faithfully kept ever since their first date during the Darkmoon Faire over a year ago; they would never abandon each other, never betray each other, and never forsake each other- from this day, until the end of their days.

Ijiro lifted his wife into his arms, hugged her tightly, and slowly spun her around until she began giggling helplessly in his ear. “I missed you, babe.”

Syrahn buried her face into his collar and refused to let him go as her family and friends rose from their seats  and approached to congratulate them.

“I missed you too.”

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Adrift in Eternity Pt 1

The soothing warmth from the Holy Light healing her black eye was a blessing Syrahn didn't know she needed until now. As always Lady Doral Tidebloom was meticulous with her work, spending a great deal of time bringing the swelling down and returning the color of her bruised skin back to normal; at this rate it would be completely gone within the hour. Viridias busied herself by running hot water and a quilboar brush through Syrahn’s hair until it shined like polished tigerseye, but she didn’t pry her sister with questions about her injury or of the terrible events that happened earlier today. Syrahn needed to take some time to rest and relax so she would have the strength to tackle their problems when she was good and ready.

Yet finding sanctuary in the Tidebloom Estate meant dealing with Doral’s cousins, many of whom find great pleasure in trading gossip, spreading rumors, and just about nothing else. “Lady Bloodfeather!” One of them chirped above the other clucking hens. “Have you written your vows yet? What about your gown? Will your wedding take place here, or somewhere exotic? Like Pandaria!”

“Let her rest…” Lady Tidebloom huffed, but she didn't take her eyes off her work. “She's been through a lot recently.”

“I heard she was saved by Lord Zaetan.” Another chimed in. “He cut through those ruffians with one hand tied behind his back. Ahhh! He's so handsome!”

“You're wrong. It's Lord Victus that saved her, not Lord Zaetan! He's even saving the city right now! He's the hero!” One of the girls in the back raised her voice, clearly angry about her sister's shoddy information.

“I'm telling you it was Zaetan! Don't you remember seeing him spar with the other lords a few months ago? It was the most graceful thing ever? Hello?! ...speaking of graceful… I heard he has a dragonhawk tattoo starting from his neck and ending well below his thighs. I'd pay your weight in gold to see that man na-"

Lady Tidebloom loudly cleared her throat. “Ladies, why don't you go look for my brother? The Oathguard arrived a few hours ago, and it would do Syrahn some good if he visited.”

“Have you checked that Ku’sol girl’s jewelry shop yet? That's where he was the last time.” A flurry of giggles abruptly stopped the instant Lady Tidebloom whipped her head around and glowered at them, but it only lasted for a moment. They didn't even make it out the door before the laughter returned, echoing ever fainter down the hallway.

“I need to find them husbands.” She sighed, returning her gaze to the Glade Queen. “Maybe they will settle down with children of their own… but I doubt it.”

“I didn't mind.” Syrahn closed her eyes while another bucket of hot water splashed across her scalp. “The noise is a nice change from the silence I'm used to in my office.” It wasn’t so long ago that Syrahn was sitting and giggling right along with them, back when she was innocent and naive. Back when she was so eager to venture away from the Amber Glade for the first time in her life and go on wild adventures across Azeroth; how she’s changed in just eleven short years. Syrahn’s faint smile was gone almost as quickly as it came. “The Oathguard’s resupply started a few hours ago… but Ijiro hasn't visited me yet? Do you think something happened to him on Argus…?”

Viridias and Doral exchanged glances before Syrahn’s sister spoke up with, “I'm certain he will visit once he's settled in. Don't forget he's been fighting the remnants of the Burning Legion. He's likely fast asleep from exhaustion.”

Syrahn didn't look pleased. “That’s never happened before. What could be taking him so long now...? I have so much to… tell him…”

Viridias began twisting her hair into a single braid now that she combed out every knot and wrinkle. “Relax, Syrahn. Stress is bad for you, and your baby.”

She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling at the mention of her unborn child. “Doral I… I wanted to speak with you about that.” Slowly she inhaled before adding, “When I was attacked in the woods… I… I fell on my stomach. Can you check to make sure…-?”

“I already have. He's unharmed and in perfect health.”

Syrahn almost pulled her braid out of her sister's hands when she sat up. “He? Are you sure?”

“You’re far along enough for me to tell.” Doral gave her a beaming smile. “Hopefully you won’t scurry off to some low-rate doctor to deliver your baby like you did when you needed a check up. May I remind you House Tidebloom has the finest equipment and doctors in all of Quel’Thalas. I would never forgive you if you had your child anywhere else.”

Miriam opened the door and stepped in before she could respond. She looked more upset than usual. “Ijiro’s been looking all over for you ever since the Oathguard arrived for resupply. He needs you to come see him.”

“I told the castle guards to direct him here.” Syrahn sneered, rising to her feet. “Did something happen…? Is he okay?!”

“He looked more or less the same since the last time he was here. But whatever he needs you for is important, so… hurry up.” Miriam crossed her arms and blocked the door as the Glade Queen tried to pass. “You aren't going anywhere wearing that. A gust of wind is all it would take for you to flash our guardsmen… Doral, you wouldn't happen to have something in her size, would you?”

“Y-yes, actually…” She hurried to a nearby closet while Syrahn and Viridias watched; almost immediately upon opening the closet Lady Tidebloom retrieved a shimmering ivory dress. “This should work… right?”

“Seems a little excessive…” Syrahn frowned. “Should I really be wearing something so extravagant for whatever Ijiro got himself into?”

“It's better to be overdressed than underdressed.” Viridias shrugged, already undoing the straps of her nightgown. Syrahn pursed her lips but said nothing, holding her arms out so Doral and Viridias could put the dress on her with minimal effort; the chest was a little tight, but she wasn't about to say anything to offend Lady Tidebloom. The Glade Queen gently lifted the front of the sparkling dress to avoid tripping, and began the long walk toward the nearest exit.

Miriam was being exceptionally distant, leading the way without speaking a single word. It only made Syrahn’s imagination wander around why her fiance couldn't simply come to her himself; yet she was still ecstatic about her baby boy, despite nearly everything else that's recently happened. Syrahn held her anxious fear in check by thinking of what she would name her firstborn son. A wide smile was spread across her face once she settled on one, just as they turned the corner to find Eristel waiting for them.

“Syrahn.” The Pyromancer nodded, looking worn out from being stuck on Argus for so long; whatever horrors he faced on that desolate rock was clearly taking a heavy toll on him, both physically and mentally. “Glad you could make it. I was afraid you were sound asleep by now.”

“Eris, what happened? Why couldn't Jiro meet me here?” She wanted to catch up with her friend again, but it would have to wait.

“Well… ahhh…” He nervously rubbed at his wrists before taking a step to the side. The arcane runes along the back of his hands lit up, and the surefire signs of a portal appeared before the exit. “I think it would just be better if he explained it himself.” A blindingly bright light filled the hallway and forced Syrahn to wince and shield her face. A warm breeze washed across her bare shoulders and neck, but before she could ask where they were taking her she was ushered through.

Syrahn stepped into soft wild grass no taller than her ankles, with the sound of a waterfall off in the distance. Slowly she opened her eyes to see the sun setting over a shimmering blue sea. “What…? Where did you take us? What's going on?!”

“The Timeless Isle, south of Pandaria.” Miriam answered curtly, before placing both hands on Syrahn’s shoulders. “No more questions. Keep your lips sealed and turn around for me.”

Reluctantly Syrahn obeyed, first noticing Eristel and Doral walking further up the hill to sit with the rest of their family. In the distance to her left were giant crimson cloud serpents writhing elegantly in the sky, with a verdant valley of wildflowers and trees far below. Directly ahead were over a hundred elves sitting in rows of benches divided by a long silk carpet, and at the very end she could see a pavilion decorated with the sigil and colors of her house.

She began to tremble as Viridias draped the thin white veil over her head.

[syrahnbloodfeather]

When One Door Closes

Syrahn said nothing in the sanctuary of her office aboard the Red Raven. The coarse scratching of her quill against the parchment was distractingly loud with everything else being silent. Both Lord Zaetan and Lord Victus stood at parade rest before her desk, occasionally exchanging looks while they waited for her to speak; but her eyes were fixed on her work, even as the side of her face was dark and swollen from being backhanded by her potential rapist.

Lord Zaetan nervously cleared his throat before uncomfortably saying, “My Lady, if this is a bad time… we can always return la-...” He cut his sentence short the moment she dropped the quill back into the inkwell and leaned back in her seat.

“Tell me what you’ve learned from our guest.” She spoke curtly, her voice teetering on the edge between contempt and frustration.

“His name is Bel’theran Stillwater, one of many elves banished from the High Kingdom. They call themselves the Ren’dorei… the Children of the Void. Highly susceptible to the Holy Light, as you discovered already.”

“The Regent Lord has declared all Ren’dorei traitors, and any found in the High Kingdom should be executed.” Lord Victus spoke cautiously to avoid Syrahn’s ire, but there was a distinct warning in his words; the Glade Queen’s gaze flickered to Victus for a split second before returning to Zaetan.

“Do we know who hired him?”

Lord Zaetan lowered his head and cleared his throat. “No, my Lady. I must admit… I lack the stomach for these kinds of interrogations. He is surprisingly resilient, but I'm afraid I might punch him to death before we get anything useful.”

Miriam took another sip from her glass while she watched her younger sister; she couldn't tell what she was thinking with that hardened scowl spread across her face, but she hardly needed to. Syrahn was clearly out for blood, and she was only a few commands away from shredding any subtlety and nuance this situation had left by going on a public warpath. “Professional interrogators are hard to come by these days, but we just so happen to have one on call. Lord Iveth Greyshade served King Anasterian by carving Amani trolls for information… perhaps he could put the gloves on again to help clear his name?”

Lord Victus shifted about uncomfortably in his boots before saying, “I don't think that's a good idea. House Greyshade can hardly be trusted! And how do we know they didn't send them against you, my Lady? I can imagine Iveth would merely butcher our only lead and give you a false name to throw us off track.”

“No.” Miriam quickly retorted. “I'll oversee the questioning, personally. If he murders this Void Elf under my watch, then I suppose he will only prove his guilt. When Amaeris tried to poison our wine with the Longest Day, I suspected it wasn't just House Sunlust involved. I called upon Lord Iveth to question her before I put her to the sword. I was satisfied with his work on her… I'm sure he would be eager to get on your good side, Syrahn.”

She was hardly interested in torture, but she was desperate for answers; these attacks are pushing a wedge between her and the other houses, and they're becoming more frequent as time goes on. If she was to put an end to this before something irreversible happened, then she would need to get her hands dirty. “If you think he can help us, then send for him. I can't afford to waste any more time trying to find these culprits.”

“You're making a mistake.” Lord Victus muttered under his breath, but everyone else in the room heard; the Glade Queen rose from her seat before he could finish.

“A mistake?” She repeated. “A mistake would be calling off my Honorguard in the middle of a crisis. A mistake would be trying to flee a group of armed invaders, leaving Zaetan to fend for himself. Four men would still be taking turns raping me if Zaetan hadn't followed the tracks that led to our crash. I would imagine they wouldn't let me live after they had their fill.” Lord Victus closed his eyes and remained silent, but Syrahn wasn't finished. “Your incompetence almost got me killed. Is there anything else I'm missing? Do you know who hired them?”

Defeated and clearly embarrassed, Lord Victus grinded his teeth together before muttering, “No ma'am…”

“I'm declaring martial law.” Syrahn commanded. “No one enters or leaves the Glade without proper identification. I want guards working around the clock to ensure this tragedy never happens again.” She paused for only long enough for Victus to reluctantly make eye contact. “Secure our southern border. Attuned our constructs to shadow magic and send them in to hunt down every last Void Elf in our home. I also want a list of every person and every business that suffered as a direct result of this invasion.”

“At once, my Lady.” Lord Victus wasn't even out the door before the Glade Queen snapped her glare onto Zaetan; he certainly seemed more relaxed than his fellow Captain of the Guard - Syrahn couldn't figure out if that made her more or less angry.

“I want you and the Honorguard to protect my sister when she visits House Greyshade. Under no circumstances are you to let what almost happened to me happen to her. Have I made myself clear?”

“Abundantly, my Lady.” He gave her a modest bow before turning to smile at Miriam. “Shall we make our way down to the surface?”

She finished the rest of her glass of wine before answering with, “I'll meet you by the castle portcullis. I have a few words I'd like to say to my sister in private.” Zaetan nodded before turning to leave. Slowly Syrahn sat back down in her uncomfortable seat, too angry to finish her writing yet too wound up to take a break. Miriam poured more wine into her crystal glass in silence, took a few brief gulps, and then turned her attention to her youngest sister. “I just want to let you know that… I’m proud of the work you’ve done leading the Amber Glade.” She paused only long enough for Syrahn to meet her gaze. “Viridias would be too soft and forgiving. I’d be a ruthless opposite. I… what happened in those woods… will be repaid. I can assure you of that.” Syrahn’s scowl faded, despite still being angry; hearing Miriam talk to her like this was certainly a new experience… and one she wouldn’t get used to for a long time. “How are you feeling…?”

“Terrified.” The Glade Queen suddenly looked exhausted again. “Not for my life… but I fell on my stomach. I’m afraid my child was hurt, or worse…” Her very first child was still far too small for her to feel their kicking, which let her imagination run wild with their fate; Syrahn so desperately wanted to carry to term, and if she ended up giving birth to a stillborn, she would never forgive herself. What would she tell Ijiro? What would she tell her friends? What would she-

Her downward spiral ended abruptly by the gentle squeeze of her hand. Miriam was standing over her now, clutching her clammy palm to anchor her back into reality. “Send word for Doral. If anyone can help ease your worries regarding your future firstborn, she’s the one for the task.” Reluctantly she released Syrahn’s hand. “Take care and stay safe. Hopefully by this time tomorrow we'll finally have answers.”

“Hopefully the Red Raven isn't sabotaged and I don't plummet to my death.” The Glade Queen sighed, only half-joking; her sister didn't laugh on her departure from the office.

Miriam could see the billowing smoke rising from the Market Square from here. She could only imagine what kind of damage these invaders have done to the Glade, and how much it would cost to fix it; only this time they didn't have anyone to pin the blame on to foot that bill. Conflict of interests and violence were to be expected when her family rose to power, but that was over a year ago. House Flamesunder was gone, their ruling members executed and the survivors banished, yet now she almost wished for those days again. That was back when the enemy was direct and right out in the open. They were grueling times, but simpler times as well; if she didn't figure out who was behind all of this soon, the people her family swore to protect and shelter will march on the Amber Castle. Their guards might be able to crush their rebellion, but without the lifeblood and allure of the Outer Sprawl, the Amber Glade would continue to bleed until it bled out entirely. That's something she couldn't let come to pass.

Lord Iveth proved once again that he was a reserved man. She wasn't impressed with the spooky clock she was forced to sit beside in the Greyshade Estate while he took his sweet time gathering his tools, and he mostly kept silent on their way back to the Amber Castle. Maybe it was being surrounded by Syrahn’s Honorguard when all that's recently happened was pointing to him, or perhaps he feared he was walking straight to his death at the hands of Miriam. How he felt mattered little to her- whether he was innocent or not. He would remain a free man unless Syrahn openly declared him responsible for this mess.

The clouds had finally passed beyond the ocean horizon by the time they reached the entrance to the dungeons. Lord Zaetan went in first, followed by Lord Iveth and Miriam, who were both trailed by the rest of the Honorguard; although she wasn't expecting any trouble, she decided she could never be too careful. “How do you plan to go about this?” Miriam’s gaze drifted over to the pale elf’s sunken face. “I'd wager interrogating a Void Elf is a tad different than what you're used to.”

“A masked man has many secrets. A naked man has fewer. A flayed man has none.” Lord Iveth sighed, not quite sounding exhausted so much as he was indifferent; there was a calculating calmness in his dull eyes, prevalent now more than ever. “Our guest may be soiled by the Void, but he is still mortal, more or less. I will have the answers you need, and soon.”

“Will you?” Miriam asked as they turned the final corner and began walking down the long hallway to reach the Void Elf’s cell. “I don't think I need to remind you on how important this information is. I don't just need answers, but they need to be accurate. How can you guarantee whatever he says will be reliable?”

“For two hundred and seventy years I have flayed elves and trolls alike in service of House Sunstrider. Not once have I ever failed them.” Lord Iveth couldn't help but sound proud of maintaining such a grisly occupation, but Miriam wasn't about to interrupt. “Agony is humbling. He will tell us the truth once his story stops changing.”

She didn't ask anything else once they reached the cell door. Yet while Zaetan fiddled with the dungeon keys, she couldn't help but wonder how House Greyshade was even accepted into the Amber Glade. Truth be told they were rich and powerful, two prerequisites of even gaining the Glade’s attention, yet they were on the waiting list for decades. Did the late Lord Kael’kro Sunlust have plans for such a renowned torturer, or did he have something even more devious in mind? Or was this the work of House Flamesunder? She didn’t want to think about the leading caste of the Amber Glade comprised of a house of warlocks, let alone two; for better or for worse, she didn’t have the time to. When Zaetan opened the door, all three of them paused at the disconcerting sounds they heard coming from the dark. Bel’theran was choking on a mass of flesh so large it forced his mouth wide open and was breaking his teeth; he was also convulsing and thrashing violently against his restraints against the wall.

“Stay back!” Lord Zaetan’s spellbreaker runes began vibrating the moment he stepped into the cell. He extended a hand out to block Miriam and Iveth from approaching, but the pale elven lord ducked underneath his arm and entered the cell anyway. “Iveth what are you doing?!”

Lord Iveth approached the dying Void Elf to observe the pitiful state he was in. Upon closer inspection the Void Elf’s bottom jaw was broken in several places, his neck warped and swollen, and the foul-smelling mass in his mouth was in fact his own tongue; whatever poison or spell he was suffering from, Lord Iveth was unfamiliar. When Bel’theran noticed his presence, he opened his eyes wide while unleashing tears of blood to trickle down his shattered face. “What a terrible fate…” Iveth managed to whisper before he heard the elf’s ribs shattering like the low grumble from a falling tree.

Lord Zaetan managed to pull Iveth out of the cell and slam the door shut before the explosion sent a shockwave through the floor, walls, and ceiling. Even the reinforced iron door warped and twisted from the blast, and was nearly ripped right off the hinges. The explosion in such a confined space also caused their ringing ears to pop, sending most of the elves to the ground. Miriam pressed her palms against her ears, wincing from the disorienting pain before the Honorguard began checking their surroundings for a possible ambush. She heard Zaetan shouting at the top of his lungs, but despite kneeling a few feet beside her, he sounded nearly a quarter mile away. Miriam saw Lord Iveth approach from the corner of her eyes while the guards struggled to return to their feet, and with an outstretched hand he helped lift her off the ground; the blood rushing out of her head threatened to rob her of consciousness, but while he held her steady, her hearing slowly began to return.

“Sta… status...!” Zaetan weakly shouted. The Honorguard pressed their bodies up against the walls to prevent falling flat on their faces; the sonic boom that affected them likely bounced around in their helmets and made them extraordinarily susceptible - a design oversight Lord Zaetan wasn’t about to ignore. He reached out and pushed at the door to open it, but it whined loudly at his touch before falling forward into the cell. Immediately he and the few guards at his back began retching at the putrid stench now assaulting their senses. It was like a dragon's egg ravaged by disease was cracked open and shoved in their faces; without a doubt the worst stench they may ever experience.

Lord Iveth approached the cell again, but this time Lord Zaetan and the rest of the Honorguard were too preoccupied trying not to vomit in their helmets to stop him. He scrunched his nose at the pungent smell but otherwise seemed unfazed, stepping into the cell to witness the remains of Bel’theran. “What do you see?!” Miriam commanded from down the hall, covering her nose with her sleeve while her eyes began to water. “What happened?!”

Iveth looked around to see very little of the Void Elf’s remains. Every inch of the cell was covered in black blood and gore, dripping down from the ceiling like syrup. Black tendrils writhed in the puddles on the Ground, likely the remnants of the Void infused in his body. What looked like half of a femur sat in a mess where Bel’theran was tied, and when Lord Iveth turned to look back at the others, he noticed bones buried in the wall that once supported the door; several ribs and even a tooth.

“Someone got to our guest first.” He took great care to avoid getting anything on his clothes, lest he have to burn them.

Zaetan pulled his helmet off before nearly spilling his dinner all over his boots. “Impossible…! I had guards stationed here ‘round the clock!”

“The Void is a volatile thing. Infusing himself with such magic proved to be a fatal mistake.” Iveth pushed the words out through a clenched jaw. “Whatever or whoever sabotaged our guest did it right under your nose. If it weren’t for that iron door, we would all be dead right now.”

“Evacuate the dungeons.” Miriam could still feel the ringing in her head, but she was stable enough now to retake command of this situation. “I don’t want any of this… blood… to get on any of our other prisoners. And get a team down here for cleanup! If this seeps into the ground there’s no telling what could happen!”

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Dagger in the Dark Finale: Blood in the Grass

There was a great burden on Syrahn’s shoulders. It was something she had successfully ignored for months, but now it demanded her utmost attention now that she was this close to the Sunlust Estate. Ever since Aulirael stopped her relatives’ assassination plot against Syrahn and her family, ever since the Glade Queen screamed at one of her oldest and closest friends, they have avoided each other like the plague of undeath. Syrahn could avoid her no longer.

The road to the Sunlust Estate was a road few traveled these days, but one Syrahn knew all too well. This was one of the few places left in Quel’Thalas untouched by the Eternal Summer spell, making it one of the last vestiges of a bygone era before the Highborne fled what would later be known as the Tirisfal Glades. The path itself was densely surrounded by ancient trees bearded with moss, with vines and leaves hanging low enough to grasp. When she came across the single bridge connecting the Sunlust proper with the rest of the Amber Glade, a rush of nostalgic memories threatened to sweep her off her feet.

“My Lady, this may be a bad time, but,” Lord Victus paused only to step to her side, while Lord Zaetan stayed behind with the carriage. “I'd like to apologize. A few months ago you were praying for your fiancé’s safe return from the Broken Isles. I was… persistent. I should have respected your boundaries.” Syrahn remained silent while she stared at the Sunlust Estate in the distance, partially hidden behind the thick verdant foliage; she wanted to tell him how it wasn’t his fault, and all he was trying to do was look out for his family, but she couldn’t let her aversion to confrontation get the better of her. She wouldn’t. “Do you accept my apology…?”

Slowly she broke her gaze from the mansion to look into his warm yellow eyes. She couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not by just his gaze, but his question was convincing enough. Syrahn paused when she opened her mouth, but before long she managed a, “I accept your apology.” A part of her wanted to tell him to get bent for trying to squirm his way into her chambers, but the whole ordeal was in the past, and she needed to focus on the future. “Let’s get this over with…” Syrahn let out a weak sigh while she crossed the bridge, listening to the ancient wood creak beneath her boots. The sheer amount of low hanging branches led her to believe this path hasn't been used at all for a long time. Thoughts of Aulirael abandoning the Amber Glade made her stomach twist, yet she knew her better than that; there's not a naaru’s chance in the Void that Aulirael would give up trying to restore her family.

When she crossed the long bridge and approached the main door of the Sunlust Estate, she felt like she weighed a ton. The letterbox was overflowing, and Syrahn even recognized a few of the letters from her family seal; most of those messages were months old - not a very good sign of Aulirael’s presence. She stared at the deep crimson door for a long time, but Lord Victus clearing his throat brought her to her senses. Syrahn reached up and pinched her fingers around the golden door knocker, taking note of the cobwebs dangling across the dragonhawk’s scaly face, but before she lifted it up to interrupt whatever Aulirael was up to, the sound of shouting stirred both Syrahn and Victus to turn on their heels. “Lady Bloodfeather! Lady Bloodfeather!” Lord Zaetan came running with the contingent of Honorguards trailing behind him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Our guards at the southern gate ruins have been overwhelmed. We have an untold number of outsiders flooding into the Glade… and they're heading this way!” Syrahn stared at Zaetan intensely before a loud boom shook the canopy and provoked her to look to the south; her blood ran cold at the sight of a billowing pillar of smoke starting its long stretch into the sky. “Lady Bloodfeather, we need to get you back to the castle. Now!” Syrahn glanced at the letterbox one last time to convince herself Aulirael wasn't home before stepping into the group of her escorts. She felt her heart pounding against her head the entire time she was in the carriage. Both of her captains were helping protect her from the outside, leaving her alone with her thoughts and worries to contend with. The carriage and her Honorguard hurried back from whence they came, with the pillar of smoke growing and spreading every time Syrahn managed to catch sight of it through the trees.

Just when she thought she made it back to the Amber Castle safely, the carriage stumbled upon a blockade hastily thrown together by the local guards. “What's the meaning of this?” Zaetan shouted with his booming voice to get their attention. “Who authorized the blocking of this bridge? The Glade Queen needs to get back to the castle immediately!”

“A thousand pardons, captains.” One guard was quick to stop what he was doing to address his commanding officers. “But we're receiving reports that several large groups of trespassers are hiding in the forest to the south and are headed this way. We don't have the men to stop them, not until our northern and eastern stations supply reinforcements.” Syrahn remained quiet while the guard paused to kneel and remove his helmet. “Lady Miriam ordered us to secure this bridge at all costs, but we don't have the men to hold it until the northern and eastern stations supply reinforcements.”

“This bridge is at serious risk of attack if these mongrels are coming up from the south.” Lord Victus spoke to Lord Zaetan just loud enough for Syrahn to also hear. “We're sitting ducks out here… but if we abandon the carriage and go by foot, she'll be vulnerable out in the open… especially if they're armed…”

“What do you suggest? Going around?” He clearly didn't like the idea of wasting time trying to get the Glade Queen to safety, but his fellow captain was making too much sense.

“Best course of action? Leave our Honorguard here to help discourage the curious. You and I escort Lady Bloodfeather to another bridge further north.” Lord Victus turned to peer at Syrahn through the small window between her two captains. “It's dangerous, but we'll be able to move faster while drawing less attention. It's your call, my Lady.”

“Do it.” Syrahn knew she couldn’t afford wasting time sitting at this bridge like a wrapped gift to whoever wanted to cause her harm. Lord Zaetan didn’t say a word, letting Lord Victus dispense the Honorguard without his input before they began to make their way further north; yet without her escort, they were able to pull the carriage along at full gallop. She looked back to see the blocked bridge disappear around the corner, but all she could think about was her family. Only someone with a death wish would openly attack the Amber Glade, and only a coward would do so after a tragedy; yet Syrahn couldn't shake the feeling that all of this was her fault, and it kept her head low and spirit lower for the rest of the way.

Then the carriage came to a screeching halt. Syrahn almost bashed her head if it weren't for her quick reflexes; she was about to yell at her captains and their terrible driving until she glared through the small window and saw what was blocking their path. Several people shrouded in dark leathers and adorning creepy wooden masks stepped out into the road. They appeared unarmed at first glance, but upon closer inspection Syrahn noticed a few of them keeping weapons partially concealed under their cloaks.

“Afternoon, gents.” A man called out with a friendly wave of his hand. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”

“Trying to make a delivery on time.” Lord Zaetan was quick to answer. “Some uptight lord’ll pay us good money to hand deliver his wine.”

She couldn't see the stranger's face behind that mask, but she didn't need to; Zaetan was a quick thinker, but he wasn't fooling anyone. “That's some fancy armor for wine merchants. And… do I sense the Holy Light?” Syrahn covered her mouth and stopped herself from making a single sound at his comment, fearing they were looking for her.

Lord Victus raised his hand. “Former Blood Knight.” The stranger didn't speak for a while, but she doubted he bought it; her chances of getting out of this dropped significantly once another group of masked invaders came lurking out of the woods. There were at least fifteen of them now.

“Tell you what… I'll make you two a deal. Abandon this… ‘wine' you're escorting, and we'll let you on your way. You can even take the hawkstriders with you, so you don't have to walk the rest of the way.”

“No deal.” Lord Zaetan spoke again, this time stepping off the carriage to stand between Syrahn and her would-be assailants. Lord Victus remained seated, slowly grasping at the reins in case they needed to flee.

“Stubborn fool. I offer you your life.” The masked man took a step forward before flicking his wrist, revealing a wicked sword bathed in crackling shadow magic; these were no ordinary bandits trying to make off with as much Amber Glade gold they could get their hands on. “We are many, you are few. Are you really willing to die for some cowardly bastard who wouldn't do the same?”

“Yes.” He stared unmoving and unflinching at the masked man, almost daring him to make the first move. Victus remained silent as well, but he kept looking around at the others with his sword already drawn. Syrahn could count her heartbeats in the following silence, watching what looked like statues facing each other for a solid twenty seconds. Then the staredown was over.

The stranger moved first but Zaetan moved faster. In the blink of an eye he removed the short sword dangling from the sheath on his waist as the attacker lunged at him with his void-touched blade. Between her heartbeats Zaetan parried the blade away from his body, grabbed the man by the wrist, and severed his arm with a flick of his sword. The masked man screamed out in agony with black blood oozing from the stump on his shoulder; he turned to face Zaetan again, but was met with his own blade plunged into his chest. Lord Zaetan wiped his weapon on his cuff and slid it back into the sheath before the corpse could even hit the ground.

“Hyaaah!” Victus shouted with a firm flick of the reins, causing Syrahn to tumble away from the window once the carriage lurched forward; the heavy tossing and shaking from the wheels striking rocks when he careened off the road and into the forest prevented her from regaining her footing as well, forcing her to pull herself into her seat by her hands and knees. Yet she could still hear the clashing of swords and the painful howls of these invaders over the rough riding, until an ear-piercing screech from one of her hawkstriders caused her heart to skip a beat. A tendril of living shadow scratched across the side of the carriage to the tune of splintering wood. By the time Syrahn could put the pieces together, the carriage flipped over onto its side before she slammed into the wall and blacked out.

Syrahn opened her eyes to find herself laying half-buried in leaves and twigs. She looked over to see the carriage cracked open like an egg before an ancient tree, but Victus and Zaetan were nowhere to be found; the eerie silence from being away from Zaetan’s battle was unsettling, and thoughts of Lord Victus bleeding out behind the tree compelled her to move. Pain wracked through her leg when she attempted to stand, forcing her to try and remain calm the instant she felt her fingers get wet before finding the source of her problem; a chunk of wood from the carriage tore right through her dress and buried itself in her thigh. With her other hand she grasped at a nearby stick and stuck it into her mouth to avoid breaking any teeth for what she planned to do next.

“Three… two… one!” The Glade Queen closed her eyes and yanked as hard as she could on the plank, ripping it out of her leg and sending herself into a dizzying, mind-numbing agony. She screamed while she instinctively bit down hard on the stick before collapsing onto her back, but she had to act quickly lest she bled out. The Holy Light surged forth from her trembling fingers to caress her wound in a soothing warmth while it slowly sealed it closed. Syrahn decided it would be best to catch her breath and regain her strength before trying anything else, but the dying wails of one of her beloved hawkstriders forced her to sit up straight. She managed to rise to her feet despite the burning pain still present in her leg, and she began to limp over to see to her bird.

“Would you get a look at this?” A masked figure stepped out from behind the tree. “The wine… it can walk!” Syrahn managed to swallow her startled yelp as she staggered back; but when two others appeared beside him, a shiver ran up her spine.

One of them knelt down beside her wounded hawkstrider. “Shhhh… easy there…” He reached down to cradle its beak in his grasp before turning to look at Syrahn through the empty black holes in his sinister mask; with a wet snap the beast fell still. “What is your name, woman? You're far too wealthy to be some tavern wench.”

Syrahn didn't answer. Anger burned at her skin at the sight of her dead hawkstrider, but with it gone and Lord Victus nowhere to be seen, there was nothing left for her here. She turned to hobble away but her escape was cut short when two others cut her off; she was now surrounded by five masked cutthroats. “She's so pretty.” Syrahn could hear the grin in his voice, which caused her stomach to turn. “You think she's as sweet as wine too?”

“Tell us your name, girl.” The one who killed her hawkstrider asked again, rising to his feet. “Cooperate and this will be over as painlessly as possible.”

Whenever the Glade Queen turned, she caught them stepping closer and closer while her back was turned. “Stay away from me! Keep away…! I'm warning you…!”

“I don't think you know how these typically go.” He huffed with a disconcerting chuckle. “But you have that fancy education, right? You're smart enough to guess what happens next.” He gestured toward his friends before saying, “Hold her down.”

“I am Lady Syrahn Bloodfeather! Queen of the Amber Glade!” She did her best to mask the fear in her voice with anger. “An entire battalion of guards are scouring the woods for me - if you leave now you might escape before they close in on you! But anyone who puts their hands on me will lose more than their hands!”

The one who killed her beast raised his hands in a mocking gesture and took a few meager steps back. “The Lady Bloodfeather?! Shit… I had no idea! Hold Her Majesty down.”

Deafening panic pounded in her head like drums when a hand grabbed at her wrist while another clamped down on her hair. When she whipped around to face him, her rising anger manifested into a violent explosion of pure white holy fire. Any normal person would have simply been blinded or slightly burned by such an attack to give her an opening for escape, but the masked assailant lit up like a Winter's Veil tree and collapsed onto his back, screaming at the top of his lungs while he desperately clawed at the flames biting deep into his blackened skin. It was so surprising that the Glade Queen stared down at him in shock for a split second longer than she could afford.

Syrahn turned to do the same to the others, but her head snapped back from being struck across the face with the back of a gloved hand; she twisted around in the recoil and fell hard onto her stomach, which knocked the wind out of her body before she could speak another incantation. A feeble crawl was all she could manage in her disoriented state, a last ditch effort to give her just enough space to catch her breath again. Immediately she was dragged back into the remaining four assailants. Strong hands clamped down on her ankles and legs while two more pairs grasped at her arms and forced them to spread out along the grass. Syrahn tried to create another explosion of Holy Light to get them off, but a familiar collar was placed around her neck with a soft and demoralizing click.

“So clean... so soft…” The weight of him pressed against her back filled her with maddening anger. “You high class girls always look down on us commoners. You take, and take, and take from us, not caring who you hurt as long as you get your wine and your gold.” He paused, removing his mask to place in the grass beside her; she felt his hot breath strike her neck after he grabbed a handful of her hair and breathed in deeply. “As it happens, I still have much to give.”

Syrahn thrashed against them as best she could, but she couldn't hope to overpower four rapists, and the magic-suppressing collar was cranked to the max, almost robbing her of consciousness. A hand pressed her face into the grass as fingers tore at her clothes, ripping her dress down the middle with just a few firm yanks. She felt him grip at her bare hips, and all she could do was tightly close her eyes and wait for this nightmare to be over.

Then the sound of a faint whistling before a juicy crunch ceased their assault of her dignity. The assailant to her left suddenly released his vice grip on her head and wrist and slumped over onto his side; Syrahn glanced over along with the others to see a dagger buried in his mask with blood leaking down the hilt. “What-?!" was all he could mutter before the rush of boots pounding dirt and steel sliding out of sheaths drew their attention to the north.

Lord Zaetan came charging down the hill with his infamous greatsword the Braklnir held aloft over his head, with a host of Amber Glade guardsmen at his flank. The remaining three assailants got off the Glade Queen and ran south for their lives, and thanks to their lightweight clothing, they could easily outpace their pursuers. Yet Zaetan heaved his greatsword with all of his might, filling the air with its insidious howl before slamming into one of them; both legs were shattered at the knees, causing him to screech out in pain explaining hard into the bloodstained grass in the distance.

“After them!” Lord Zaetan barked before guards atop armored hawkstriders gave chase to hunt the remaining two down. While the others secured the perimeter to ensure no further surprises, one of the guards dropped to his knees beside Syrahn to cover her with his cloak.

“Mom…! It's going to be okay!” He removed his helmet to reveal himself to be Zeth’romas, Ijiro’s son; with a flick of his fingers the suppressing collar shattered in his grasp, granting Syrahn some much-needed air. He wrapped her in the cloak to shield herself and scooped her up into his arms before Zaetan turned to see if she was alright.

“I'm so sorry, my Lady. I tried to get here as soon as I could.” He gave her a worried frown before glancing down at the charred corpse sprawled out nearby. “Did they…?”

“They didn't.” Relief was still washing over the Glade Queen while she trembled from the crisp breeze against her bare legs; it felt like she hadn't been this safe and secure in ages. While she pressed her head against her future son-in-law’s collar, both Zaetan and Zeth decided to let her rest after such a traumatic ordeal. He wisely turned her away from the body and sat down in the grass with her, letting Syrahn sit silently in his lap while she regained her composure; never again would she venture beyond the castle without a mage accompanying her at all times.

“Lockdown this area until we can get a mage out here!” He commanded, turning to see Lord Victus being dragged out from near the wreckage of the carriage; he was beat up pretty badly, likely flung from his seat when he veered off the road, but he would recover before long. The mounted guards returned dragging bodies, a sight that filled Syrahn with satisfaction. Two more guards approached with Zaetan’s weapon, and a growling cripple. Now that he was without his mask, the Glade Queen studied the features of his face; his skin was black and purple like a man who died buried in snow, and his eyes were a pale grey and filled with anger and fear.

“Sir, what should we do with this one?” They asked, as Zaetan sheathed his Braklnir on his back.

“Take his head.” He waved his hand for the order while they dropped him to go for their swords.

“No!” Syrahn barked, wiggling out of Zeth’s grasp to stand tall with the cloak draped over her chest to cover herself from the front; a few of the guards looked away to avoid getting in serious trouble, but she was far too angry to care. She glared down at the animal with murderous intent in her eyes. “You and your dead friends certainly aren’t smart enough to orchestrate this yourselves. Who sent you?”

He coughed out while he struggled to sit upright, but his warped legs sent agony into his body with each subtle movement. “Argh… s-sorry to burst your bubble, Your Majesty, but we saw an opportunity for revenge, and took it. N-nothing more…”

“Liar.” The Glade Queen retorted, deciding to approach him; he couldn’t stop himself from gazing lustfully at her legs, but the ogling didn’t last for long; his gaze fell to the floor while she stared at him for several moments in absolute silence. “If you tell me who sent you, and your death will be quick and painless. You have my word.”

“Sometimes it’s just that simple, Queen.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “There’s no hidden presence… no mastermind. The Amber Glade looked ripe for the harvest.” He glanced back up at her thighs. “And ripe it is.”

Zaetan’s heel slammed into his back, causing the dark elf to buckle into the dirt and wheeze. “My Lady, just say the word and I’ll-”

“I’ve given no such order.” She snapped at her captain, but she didn’t take her eyes off her prisoner. “Once he’s rotting in the dungeons where he belongs, relieve him of his hands.” The sudden flare in the void-touched elf’s eyes only hardened her scowl. “And take his stem and stones as well.”

“W-wait a second!” He protested, but the heel of Zaetan’s boot cut his protest short; he fell limp into the ground again, coughing and reeling from the kick to the face.

“Before when you were planning to push yourself into me, you told me you have much to give.” Syrahn’s face was still as stone, but there was a fiery malice in her amber eyes. “I intend to collect.”

Mentions: @alucieussunrael

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Dagger in the Dark Pt 2: Tick Tock Goes the Grandfather Clock

Tick… tock… tick… tock…

The grandfather clock beside Syrahn was unsettling. She remained as silent as the grave before a long oval table that was lightly decorated with twilight jasmine and black roses. The floor was made of bricks as black as the night sky, with a rug of some creature she couldn't recognize spread beneath her feet. Lord Zaetan seemed unfazed by the dreary decor; he paced back and forth with his hand on the hilt of his sword, but he whistled a cheery tune while they waited for Lord Iveth. She was eager to listen to his song to help settle her nerves, but the ticking of that accursed clock was distractingly loud. Zaetan stopped pacing the moment the door was opened by a Greyshade guardsmen, and in stepped the master of this house.

“Lady Bloodfeather,” Lord Iveth finally arrived, seemingly out of breath; his silver hair was obviously void-touched from questionable practices, slicked back and tucked behind his ears. His eyes burned a sickly purple not unlike the violet torches lining the room. Although she always found his disconcerting stare uncomfortable, there was something about him that seemed more strange than usual. “Apologies for running late. I had urgent business to attend to before our meeting.” Syrahn opened her mouth to ask what could possibly be more important than meeting with her, but she bit her tongue and decided to get on with the matter at hand; the more time she wasted the longer she would be sitting in this dreadful place, after all.

“A few days ago assassins we're sent after a close friend and ally to the Amber Glade: Lady Sun’rael. She claims they were sent from one of us. Do you happen to know anything about that?”

Tock… tick… tock… tick...

Lord Iveth folded his hands before speaking. “I do not. We have no ill will for House Sun’rael. But if I may ask… what makes her think they came from the Amber Glade?” Syrahn remained silent as she reached down into her satchel. She kept her gaze fixed on Lord Iveth while she slid his sigil across the table; it struck his hands but he didn't pick it up, seemingly frozen with guilt.

“That was found on one of them.” Syrahn calmly explained. “I'd like an explanation.” Slowly he plucked the sigil off the table, and turned it over and over in his trembling hands.

“This…” He started, while Zaetan watched his every move like an apex predator on the hunt. “... belonged to my son. My firstborn.” Lord Iveth paused before wearily glancing up at Syrahn. “He died fifteen years ago. No, not died… he was murdered.”

Her skeptical brow softened at the news of his loss. “I thought Saleron was your firstborn.”

“His name was Van’el. He was… he was a good man.” Lord Iveth turned the sigil around in his hands over and over again. “Lady Bloodfeather, I wouldn’t want to burden you with gossip and rumors, but you are already well aware of the hostility between my family and House Sunpath, correct?”

“I am.” Syrahn decided to humor him for now, but in the back of her mind she knew she had at least six more families to pry for information before the day was done. “They claim your family killed two of theirs.”

Tick… tock… tick… tock...

“We did.” His reluctance to answer didn't go unnoticed. “I don't recall their names, but I'll remember their faces. Two boys that thought themselves hero-”

“Boys?” Syrahn interrupted while doing her best to ignore that accursed clock. “How old?”

“Both were no older than fifteen...” The Glade Queen slumped back in her chair and bit her tongue; this wretched excuse for an elf murdered two boys barely older than Taen and Jaeras. “It was a regretful, but necessary. For generations House Sunpath and House Greyshade waged war against each other. Yet Van’el was determined to end our feud and make peace with our enemy. His head was delivered to me within the fortnight. My firstborn son…”

“Children shouldn't be punished for the crimes of their parents.” Syrahn spoke in a low tone. “I am sorry for your loss, but killing kids is never justified.”

Lord Iveth didn't take his eyes off the sigil. “Have you ever had children, Lady Bloodfeather?” The question caught her off guard; instead of answering, she simply stared at him in an uncomfortable silence. “I can't attest to a mother's scorn, but I know a father's wrath very well. You are right to judge me on their deaths… but until you lose your own child, you will never understand.”

“Careful, Iveth.” Lord Zaetan finally spoke up, watching the elf like a hawk.

“I meant no offense.” He quickly retorted, pushing the sigil away. “I swear to you my family had nothing to do with the attempt on Lady Sun’rael’s life. That's all I can really say.”

Tock… tick… tock… tick…

“Thank you for your time.” Syrahn pushed her chair out to allow her to stand; Lord Iveth suddenly looked surprised once she plucked the sigil off the table and slipped it back into her satchel. “I must be off to visit the other houses.”

“You're not going to arrest me?” He reluctantly asked, provoking Syrahn to glare through him.

“I should banish both of your houses to spare myself some trouble.” The Glade Queen turned to glance at her escort before continuing with, “But I'm not in the business of harming innocent children. Had I known this bitter rivalry was so deeply seated…” She decided to leave that thought hanging, knowing it was far too late to do anything about it now. The damage was done, and that clock was beginning to test her patience. “Good day, Lord Greyshade. If you find anything about this case, please let me know as soon as possible.”

“Of course, my Lady.” Syrahn gave him a modest curtsey before turning on her heel and leaving. Lord Zaetan shuffled in behind her, keeping her within his reach until they left the dreary estate; if the Gods were kind she would never step foot in there again.

“I'm not so sure this is a good idea.” Syrahn reluctantly admitted to Zaetan as they stepped out into the front gardens of the Greyshade manor. “Every house knows I'm visiting them. They can easily prepare for my arrival.”

“Do you think you're in danger?” Lord Zaetan asked, keeping up with her brisk pace. “I don't mean to make you worry, but, it's something we shouldn't overlook.”

Syrahn slowed down just enough to give him a concerned look without straining her neck. “I hope not… but I suppose having two escorts is better than one.”

When she saw her carriage awaiting her around the bending hedges, she couldn't be more relieved. Her Honorguard remained as still as statues until they heard her approach, snapping to attention and opening her carriage door to let her and Lord Zaetan step in with ease. Lord Victus was pouring himself a glass of brandy as she sat down.

“How did the interrogation go?” He asked, moments before knocking back the entire glass.

“Poorly.” Syrahn barely spoke a word until the carriage turned the corner to leave the Greyshade Estate behind. “Victus… could you tell me more about the nephews they killed?”

Anger flashed across his face, but in a blink it was gone. “Their names were Athu and Larinthas. Good kids… we have a shrine dedicated to them at our estate... if you'd like to pay respects.”

“How old did you say they were again?” Syrahn watched his face closely after asking.

“Well… Larinthas would have been… fifteen next month? Athu was only a year and a half younger…”

“And… how long ago did it happen…?” She asked, provoking peculiar looks from both of her captains.

“Three years before the Scourge Invasion.” Syrahn looked like someone just kicked her in the chest.

Both Victus and Zaetan exchanged weary glances. “My Lady, are you alright?”

“I assumed this happened decades ago… a century at the very least…” Syrahn pressed her hand against her chest, feeling her heart pounding against her palm while a cold fury crept up her spine. “Gods… they were toddlers… toddlers!”

Zaetan moved a little closer to the Glade Queen and took her free trembling hand. “Maybe you should take a break. Might I suggest-"

“No.” Syrahn huffed before inhaling sharply. “I need to get this done.” She pulled her hand away from Zaetan and pounded her fist on the top of the carriage to get the driver's attention. “What's the next stop?”

“House Sunlust estate, ma’am.” he announced. Syrahn slowly sat back down and slumped in her seat.

“...oh.”

Mentions: @k-sunrael

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Thicker Than Water

Telling Jaeras that she would be living with Whitstan from now on was the hardest thing Tyrasam has ever done. At first the little girl thought she was being punished for sneaking out in the middle of the night to investigate the carnage created by the High Justicar; then she thought Tyrasam had possibly grown tired of her. It took everything Tyrasam had to stop herself from breaking down and crying, or worse, going back on her word and keeping her precious little gift to herself. To help keep her mind off the inevitable departure, she decided to make the last day they would spend together also their greatest, and so they spent the entire day walking up and down the countless shops in the Market Square. By the end of their binge they spent nearly a hundred thousand gold coins, draining Tyrasam’s savings; but for Jaeras, it was all worth it.

When the sun began to inch closer and closer to the deep ocean horizon, and the laughter and smiles stopped, their time was up. Jaeras got anything her heart desired, and outfitted her with a brand new dress and hat so extravagant and sublime she looked wealthier than Syrahn herself. As a token of goodwill, the Glade Queen even offered Jaeras her personal traveling carriage for safekeeping, allowing the girl to ride out of the gates of the Amber Glade with all of her new belongings in the highest caste of style. They only waited for Whitstan beside the main gates for an hour, but for Tyrasam, it only lasted a single moment.

Like a ghost coming to take her girl away, Whitstan appeared at the edge of the woods along the partially hidden road. With so many unaware civilians going about their business nearby, the guards refused to let the Death Knight come any closer. Tyrasam’s heart sank into her stomach once she noticed him standing there, ready to accept his daughter; a part of her wanted to scoop Jaeras up into her arms and flee back to the house where no one could take her, but she was a woman of her word. When Zerethel and Whitstan practically begged her to watch his newborn infant so they could go save the world, she wanted nothing to do with the child; yet she made a promise to them both that she would take care of her until they returned from Northrend.

Thinking about all was and all that will never be forced the Paladin to grimace. She would never teach Jaeras how to ride a horse. She wouldn't be there when Jaeras started dating, spending long hours giggling about boys she's smitten with well into the night. Gods willing she would still be around for the marriage; what she wouldn't give to hold Jaeras’ newborn child in the unforeseeable future.

“This is it.” Tyrasam slowly sighed, helping her up into the front seat; she gave her little princess a comforting smile, but the tears building up in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “B-be on your best behavior… o-okay…?” Jaeras turned to embrace Tyrasam as tightly as she could, nearly causing her feathered hat to fall off her head. “Learn to be a proper lady, okay? Kaevia and your father will take good care of you… just…” Tyrasam paused to gather her composure with a heavy breath and heavier heart. “Don't forget…-”

“You will always be my mom.” Jaeras assured her, before gently kissing her on the cheek. It was just enough to push Tyrasam over the edge, causing her to shudder and tremble while she broke down in tears. Jaeras hugged her back and nuzzled her face into her collar, and they held each other until Tyrasam was able to calm down. “I'll visit when I can.” She smiled, finally freeing herself from her mother's grip.

Tyrasam opened her mouth to speak, but the words remained still in the back of her throat. Jaeras managed to climb up onto the carriage all by herself despite her short stature, grabbed hold of the reins, and glanced down to look upon her mother’s face one last time before heading off. The two pearly white hawkstriders were picking at the earth in search of insects before the gentle tug of their reins caused them to perk up and stand at attention. The little girl flicked the leathers once to stir the beasts into pulling her ride out of the Amber Glade, but she kept looking back at her mother with nervous fear twinkling in her eyes; the last time she was sent away from Tyrasam, she thought she would never see her or her poppa ever again. Yet the call to adventure filled Jaeras with giddy excitement, compelling her to wave at Tyrasam once more before sitting back in her seat. She struggled to keep the hawkstriders from veering off the path, but after much effort she was able to reach the edge of the forest where Whitstan patiently waited.

Jaeras could feel the temperature drop drastically around her, but she pretended not to notice; it was suddenly so cold she could see her own breath, but her fancy dress and hat proved invaluable in trapping any heat against her body, save for her reddened face and ankles. She pulled the carriage over to the side of the road where he stood, and with a straightened back and trembling hands, she looked down upon her father with feigned disinterest. “H-hullo…” she mumbled, almost choking on her nervous gulps.

A dry tone echoed out as his voice attempted to mask the hint of annoyance, “Hello, little miss.” He shot a glance to the guards in the distance, but decided to stay his tongue on the ‘welcoming party’; he saved all of their lives, they knew he protected them, yet their bigotry against undeath clouded their common sense. With a shake of his head Whitstan pushed his violent tendencies out of his mind, knowing no good would come from it. His faint scowl flashed into a smile once he returned his attention to his daughter. “Are you ready to come home now?”

“Yes…” Jaeras politely answered, tapping the empty seat beside her; Whitstan slowly climbed onto the carriage with an urgent care not to spook the hawkstriders. He watched her flick the reins with her bandaged fingers, causing the beasts to continue the journey all the way to the Sun’rael Estate.

Sitting beside his daughter was a surreal experience he was not prepared for. The last time he even held her in his arms she was so small, so defiant, so angry… so loud. She was only a few hours old when he had to give her away so he could fight in Northrend; if he had the foresight he would have never left for that frozen hellscape, and he certainly would have never abandoned her to Tyrasam, who at the time, he barely knew. He was still in Icecrown with the cold grip of undeath clutching his soul when she likely took her first steps. He was amassing displaced worgen to fight for his cause when she likely spoke her first words. He was sowing the seeds of chaos to finish what the Lich King started when she likely read her first sentence. So many memories and experiences he missed during his quest to unite Azeroth under his banner. Yet now she was almost a woman, sitting tall just a few inches away. The last moments of his battle with Kaevia’s father convinced Whitstan of Jaeras’ love, and if nothing else, he would be eternally grateful for her bravery.

Whitstan waited quite some time for her to speak; surely she had a storm of questions circling under that outlandishly silly hat of hers. After what felt like an hour, his patience had reached its end. “Jaeras,” He started, watching her reaction closely; she seemingly refused to make eye contact, and the startled little girl almost jumped an inch off her seat the instant he spoke her name. “We still have a long ways to go before we’re home. Is there… anything you’d like to ask me?”

“How did father die?” Jaeras quickly asked, almost as if she was holding her breath with that question; whatever smile Whitstan had on the corners of his lips had immediately vanished from being blindsided. Apparently too much time had passed without his answer, compelling Jaeras to glance over at his face, if only for a moment. “... did… did you kill him…?”

His hand rubbed at the stubble along his jaw if only to conceal his expression a moment. “I made a decision to save others over him… he was once my friend after all. At least, I trusted him. I trusted him enough to let his…” he searched for the right words and quickly gave up, “...lover take care of my newborn daughter before we went off to study the leylines of Northrend after the Second War. Well, he was studying. I was there as a newly appointed spell-breaker to protect the noble scholar.” Whitstan rubbed at the back of his head, “I guess that wasn’t really your question… yes. If it weren’t for me the man you once knew as a father might still be alive. Might.”

“I studied fel corruption after Mr. Alucieus died.” Her voice seemed unreasonably fragile, like she was on the verge of tears. “I think father suffered from the same thing… but he wasn’t as far gone as him. I just…” she slowly exhaled after blinking a few times. “I hope he’s resting.”

“They were friends, too. But your fath- Zerethel turned on him. Both of them were men with countless burdens on their shoulders. Both very powerful in their own right. They were both leaders in a war willing to do what others wouldn’t and in the end, they succumbed to illness in their mind. Maybe there was some… correlation to that.” For a moment he grew self-conscious about his articulation, for a commoner he was well-spoken and wondered if he was speaking a broader vernacular than she was used to at her age. Then he remembered she literally just said she studied fel corruption implying superior intellect for her age. He was proud for a fraction of a second, “Do you enjoy studying? Or was it morbid curiosity?”

“A bit of both I guess…” She straightened up again in her seat before saying, “Lord Tidebloom told me studying is very important, and Mother agrees. So I read and read and read until my eyes hurt. I’ve learned a lot about pyre… p-pyrome… -fire magic.” Her face suddenly reddened from struggling to pronounce such a weird word. “I want to learn about all sorts of things.”

“Pyromancy… did the mages in the Glade test you to see what your true magical affinity is? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was flame manipulation. I was p-” he choked on his words a moment, “Proud of you to see you stay courageous in the face of overwhelming adversity like that. I was impressed to see the extent of your magical power. Of course, I was a little preoccupied at the time. As for self-study, I did a lot of that too. A lot of reading, a lot of practice learning how magic, mana and mana-flow within the body works.”

Jaeras seemed to slouch a little in her seat, clearly more relaxed and comfortable talking about her heroic deeds. “Lord Tidebloom was teaching me better spells before he left for Argus. I think some of the other lords were interested in teaching me other schools, but I’m not interested… I saved Mother in Silvermoon City a long time ago with fire, and I saved you too!” She shot him another quick glance. “... I thought he was going to kill you…”

“He was… he would have hurt a lot more people if you didn’t act. Kind of like… how I did with Zerethel.” he threw it out there just to feel for a reaction. He knew it could backfire heavily yet this would be a good starting point to gauge what subjects felt taboo for now with their relationship. Perhaps one day, they would be comfortable discussing things in more depth but at the same time he didn’t want to start the new relationship with his daughter with deceit.

Jaeras slowly inhaled before saying, “When I was still on Zaldrannar and Fath- uhm… Lord Kash’k-kaar was sick, I was so afraid. I snuck into my quiet place and cried for hours until Mr. Rethandus found me.” She narrowed her eyes but kept her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “I think he knew what was going to happen. He took me away so I wouldn’t get involved… so I wouldn’t see.” After a moment of silence she turned to into her true father’s eyes. “I wish he hadn’t.”

The Death Knight wondered for a moment if Rethandus had brought his daughter away to safety before or after their deathmatch. Either way, it was probably in service to her stepfather. His eyes reciprocated her gaze, “I don’t. Whatever Rethandus is to me, we’ve fought on both sides of the same coin. One moment an enemy, another a friend. I’ve done horrible things to him and the people he cares about. I don’t blame him one bit for wanting to get revenge. But, at the end of the day I am thankful that he took you away from all that. I wouldn’t want you to be involved or see what happened either. It’s a burden for the previous generation to bear, not you. We dug our graves a long time ago, Zerethel, Rethandus and I. Letting you see the horrors that followed the results of our actions might have scarred you for the worst.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Jaeras kept glancing around their surroundings, clearly staying vigilant for something, or someone, to come jump out at them; Tyrasam must have told her stories about the wild lynxes and the lowlife bandits that often plagued these woods. “I heard Mr. Rethandus fought you in the Western Plaguelands… that you were a very bad person up until recently. Before Z...Lord Zerethel died,” She was still clearly struggling to not call him Poppa like she did many times before, especially in Whitstan’s presence. “He would tell me scary stories at night… a-about you.” An uncomfortable silence befell the girl for some time, but before Whitstan could inquire further, she said, “Are any of the stories true...?”

“Probably…” he answered abruptly. “I mean, we’d have to go down the list for me to be certain. None of us involved in this entangled web of our past were blameless or without blemish.” Whitstan rubbed at the back of his head lightly, contemplating how to articulate everything but grew short of an answer every time. “I don’t claim to be a good man, because I’m not. But I try to be better, every day if I can. Sometimes I trip and fall back a few steps. Only thing you can do is get back on your feet and move forward again no matter how much ground you’ve lost.”

“What about my real mother?” Jaeras couldn’t keep the question to herself any longer. “I would like to know more about her. Um… please.”

Whitstan shook his head a moment, contemplating how to answer the girl. “She was bright. Full of energy and kindness. She seemed to draw positivity from everything around her and even then, it wasn’t enough. We met each other during a vulnerable time in our lives and we fulfilled a role for each other that we needed. I don’t know what else to say aside from that. I’d like to think she loved you very much.”

“Was she a queen like the Bloodfeathers?!” Jaeras asked excitedly the moment the thought popped into her head. The thought of being a long-lost princess caused her heart to flutter with glee, and she could barely contain her giggling with the bright grin spread from ear to ear.

“No, little one. She was a commoner, like me. Not so exciting, is it?”

“Oh.” Just like that the tickling in her stomach was gone. Her voice was heavy with disappointment, but she forced a weak smile all the same. “How did you two meet?”

“Well…”

Lordaeron was once a bustling kingdom filled with life and free trade. The engorged markets within the safety of the tall stone walls were loud and rowdy everyday before the sunrise and long after the sunset. Humans from all walks of life shouted at the crowd that jingled with the enticing promise of gold and silver. “Fresh bread! Fresh bread here!” and “I've got wine so sweet you'll sell your mother for a cask!” and “Hot pies! Strawberry, pecan, chicken and pork pies! The freshest you'll ever eat!” rang above the chorus of voices, but one voice stood out to Whitstan from the rest.

“Juiciest fish in all of the Eastern Kingdoms! Flayed, filleted and fried!” She spoke the common tongue but her Thalassian accent was unmistakable. Whitstan decided to risk eye contact with the merchant to get a better look; she had dried fish blood up to her forearms and spread all over her dusty apron. Her golden crown of hair was cut short just before her shoulders, and even with the dirt stuck to her face from a long day of hard labor, her smile beamed the moment he glanced over in her direction. “Ah! Hello there, fellow High Elf!” She proclaimed, leaning over the grimey table to wave him closer. Three humans were working around her in the fish shop, but the youngest looked up from his tasks and scowled at him with suspicious contempt. “You look famished stranger! We've got fresh catfish, salmon, carp and trout if you'd like to try some!”

A quick pause came in his steps as he looked around to verify she was addressing him. A fast thump quickened his heart when his gaze settled back on the girl. Centuries of rich history and ample heritage was nothing when compared to this simplest of moments: a simple merchant meeting the eyes of a simple farmer. A hesitant wave came from his as he tried his best to offer a smile in return. “H-hey.” barely a response as he approached the stall. “What… would you recommend?” an earnest question. He knew nothing of the intricacies of seafood.

“I recommend the catfish. I caught this beast just an hour ago!” She reached down underneath the table and wrestled up a massive fish nearly half her size; it was weak yet very much alive, occasionally kicking and thrashing against her iron grip.

“Syl that's the best fish you caught!” The young human protested. “Surely one of the little ones will d-!”

“The best fish for our best customer!” She interrupted, withdrawing a curved gutting blade from her hip. In the blink of an eye she brought the tip of the blade down into the skull of the fish, causing its tail to twitch one last time. Fresh blood spilled out into the table while she went to work, humming a catchy tune while the others fired up the fryer. “Are you from Quel’Thalas, Mr…?”

The teen was silent for a moment as a bead of sweat raced down his brow. “Uh…” the young man was able to barely sound out. The nervous response barely escaped his lips after having seen her efficiency with murdering and gutting a gigantic fish. “Um. N-no. I mean, yes. I am. I’m from Quel’Thalas but not -from- there. I mean, my parents raised me here.” a stumbling of the words came rolling out of his mouth. “Whitstan.” he offered with a gulp. “Whitstan Wilhelm. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Syllesia Autumnsong.” She beamed at him, seemingly not at all paying attention to the fish she was gutting. “I was born in Quel’Thalas but my family moved away for um… personal reasons.” Syllesia gave him a light shrug with one shoulder as she pulled out the entrails of the catfish. “I’ve been trying to save up enough gold to live in the capital. It’s my dream!”

The youngest human stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Syl you shouldn’t be telling him all of this personal stuff. You don’t know him. We don’t know him.” The elven woman finally pried her gaze away from Whitstan long enough to glare angrily at the human.

“Please ignore my friend Petar here. He’s just a worrywort.” Syllesia plucked a shaved wooden stick and skewered a large flank of the bloody fish meat before lowering it into the boiling oil they were heating. “And… you’ll have to forgive me as well. I’m a bit of a chatterbox as you can tell.”

A shake of the head came in response, “No… worries. I’m sure your friends are protective of you for a reason… or another. I don’t mind people who speak their mind. It’s a nice quality to have… Syl.” Syllesia’s smile only grew while she coyly looked him over, but Petar’s smoldering scowl only worsened; he seemed to tremble with anger in his fraying leathers and cheap iron cufflinks.

A few moments of calm analysis was all he needed to regain his composure as his eyes shifted from the human merchants to the woman speaking at him. “Why are they so concerned with friendly banter, I wonder?”

The hustle and bustle of the city didn’t relent during their conversation; it seemed the market grew louder and louder around them but the focus he held on the tradeswoman appeared resolute and rendered the cacophony of noise to a quiet murmur about them.

“We were robbed a week ago.” She answered, slowly turning the frying fish flank in the boiling oil. “Bandits come down from the mountain to prey on defenseless travelers. If I wasn't concealing myself with thick baggy britches and a heavy good they would have likely taken off with me as well. We almost lost Pops to them, but they ran off the moment the Lordaeron Peacekeepers managed to show up and do their jobs.”

“I could have stopped them…” Petar mumbled under his breath, but it was still loud enough for Whitstan to hear. An older human with ashen grey whiskers wheeled himself closer to the front of the shop, cradling his bloodied and bandaged arm; the wind picked up enough to move his vest, revealing more of the same bandages wrapped around his chest.

“Chopping wood and pulling wagons are a bit different than killing thugs, boy.” He coughed with a hoarse voice. “They would have opened you like a sack of thawed fish if you stood up to them. You’re no fighter, no more than I am.”

“Whitstan, this is Bren. Bren, Whitstan.” Syllesia said, stepping aside to let them get a better look at each other. “I call him Pops, but..-”

“Do you know how to use that blade, Whitstan?” He coughed, pointing weakly at the sword on Whitstan’s hip. “Or is that nothing more than an ornament to ward off would-be criminals?”

The young man recognized the scent of blood as he eyed the older one in the wheelchair. A familiar smell would fill the room whenever his sister coughed up enough of it. His hand shifted to the hilt of the blade as he felt the leather handle. “I can handle it well enough…” he responded, unsure of the man’s motives yet trying to maintain a confident facade.

“Bandits find us easy pickings when we fish down by the lake surrounding Caer Darrow.” He winced at his wounds, but there was little he could do about it. “The last time they came down the mountainside they almost made off with Syllesia. I’m too old and wounded to defend her again, and my boys are too inexperienced. I would like to hire your blade, if you’re willing. Fair wages for fair work.”

A nod came as a response, “Fair wages for fair work…” he echoed before looking back to Syllesia, “Glad they couldn’t make off with you.”

Petar flared up again. “We can't afford it.” Syllesia said nothing while she beamed, seemingly ignoring him. “We can barely afford the upkeep on this fryer! It would be unfair to hire him under these condit-”

“Take it out of my pay.” She suggested, feeling their gazes on the back of her head. Syllesia pulled the fish out of the vegetable oil, sprinkled a handful of salt and a variety of other spices, and offered it to him. “Plus all the fish you can eat! Are you in?”

Something was off in this situation aside from the obvious. The hairs on his arms stood up while he considered the offer. Whitstan gave a silent nod in agreeance. “Fair wages for fair work.” the boy parroted.

“Then what happened?” Jaeras interrupted, growing impatient. Whitstan glanced down at her and smiled, but before he could continue he noticed the familiar trees they were now surrounded by. He looked to his left to see them moving down a quiet river; to his right was the thickest part of the Eversong Woods.

“I’ll finish the story soon.” The Death Knight reached over and placed a gentle hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “But it will have to wait for now.”

Jaeras didn’t look pleased. “But… why?”

“Because we’re finally home.”

Collaborators: @syrahnbloodfeather @whitstanwilhelm

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Dagger in the Dark Pt 1: Two Captains, One Carriage

At last once the sun had risen high enough over the woodlands to the east, and the Amber Glade had stirred from their beds, Syrahn was ready to face the great houses. She hadn’t slept a wink since she sent Lady Kaevia that letter; the threat of assassins looming around every corner and hiding behind every blade of grass kept her emotionally drained and physically exhausted. But the whispers hadn’t haunted her since the sun came up, giving her a blissful rest from the voices at the edge of her thoughts. Syrahn stood up straight and took all the time she needed before stepping out into the glaring sunlight to get to the truth of all this.

Immediately she noticed the foreign armor of her guardsmen. They were clad in the darkest armor she had ever seen, wielding longswords with a deep blood-like crimson, and shields that looked like they were carved straight out of obsidian; she could only imagine their suffering in this hellish heat, but she didn’t dwell on such thoughts for long. Most of them knelt the moment they noticed her presence, with just a single guard opening the door to her carriage. Fear of them not being her guardsmen at all and cutting her down once she got close enough made her reluctant to approach. “First stop, my Lady?” One of them asked, helping to put her mind at ease; she could recognize Sven Skyfire any day, even when he’s hidden in that ghastly armor.

“House Greyshade.” Syrahn offered him a relieved smile before gripping the front of her dress while she lowered her head and stepped into her carriage.

“Ah, the perfect thing to see first thing in the morning!” Another familiar voice called out to her, this time from within the carriage. Her subtle smile vanished the instant she recognized Lord Zaetan Bladewhisper and Lord Victus Sunpath sitting on either side of each other. “Well what are you waiting for? Hop in my Lady!”

Syrahn froze stiff. “What are you two doing in my carriage?!” Zaetan and Victus exchanged confused glances at such a strange question.

“It's usually customary for the Guard Captains to accompany the Glade Queen, is it not?” The tone in Zaetan’s voice seemed harmlessly playful, but it annoyed her all the same.

“My Guard Captain can't defend me very well inside my carriage,” Syrahn started while she felt heat rising to the surface of her face. “I didn't authorize either of you to assume his position either… and I definitely don't need two captains!”

“You did suggest someone from my house would be willing to do the job.” Zaetan calmly explained; Syrahn clenched her jaw and pursed her lips together at that realization. She remembered saying something along those lines yesterday afternoon. “Your new Honorguard is more than capable of fending off any threats now that they're properly equipped too, as a token of my family's goodwill.”

“Fair enough…” Slowly she sat down along the bench and the carriage door closed behind her. She chose to sit as far away from the two as she possibly could, but since she gave her more prestigious carriage to Jaeras so she could travel to the Sun’rael Manor in style, her backup ride was a little more… cramped than she remembered; even on the other side she was almost butting her knees against theirs. “So… why do I need two of you?”

“If assassins were sent to kill Lady Sun’rael from the Glade, then you can't rule out the possibility of them turning their attention to you as well.” Victus warned with Zaetan nodding in approval. “Think of us as retainers, if that suits you.”

Syrahn narrowed her eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“Your sister filled us in.” Zaetan quickly answered. “That’s why we’re going to House Greyshade, is it not?”

“I'm on my way to visit all of the houses, yes.” She didn't want to single out House Greyshade just yet, not until she had all the facts. “I need to get to the bottom of this but I'm not about to start a witch hunt. Hopefully none of our houses are guilty… because if they are, I will not hesitate to banish them.”

“Banishment seems a little tame for attacking your allie-"

Syrahn didn't wait for Victus to finish his thought by saying, “The families would be banished. Those directly responsible will be hanged.” Her eyes flickered between them with aggressive intent in her gaze. “I suppose I should start with you two.”

“My Lady?” Zaetan asked while Victus fell silent.

“Thank you for volunteering.” The Glade Queen straightened up in her seat while she studied his face for the slightest trace of deception. “You already know assassins came after Lady Sun’rael less than three days after the Amber Glade demanded reparations for our garden’s destruction. Why would House Bladewhisper want her dead?”

“We wouldn't.” Zaetan answered plainly yet confidently. “Sure we've killed people we didn't like before. But sending in assassins to do our dirty work is… tasteless. Like using poison the way House Sunlust tried on us it's without honor.” He gave her a comforting smile before finishing with, “And you know how much we Bladewhispers yap on about honor. I'm sure you're tired of hearing it by now, truth be told.”

Syrahn was not yet convinced of his innocence. “Truth be told House Sun’rael is a mercenary contractor. Mercenaries will do just about anything and kill just about anyone for money. Your house does the same… sounds like a recipe for conflicting interests, wouldn't you agree?”

“Our trade is mostly selling arms and armor. We buy raw materials from mining guilds and goblin cartels, refine it in our forges, then make whatever the demand is from scratch. Your Honorguard was outfitted by our best blacksmiths, free of charge.”

“How thoughtful.” The Glade Queen decided to keep that remark to herself. Lord Zaetan seemed like an honest man; a simple man perhaps, but an honest man nonetheless. Although she was convinced he had nothing to do with that attempt on Kaevia’s life, ruling out his family before she spoke with them directly was not an option. As quickly as she blinked, Syrahn’s amber eyes flickered to Victus.

“House Sunpath would never stoop so low as to send assassins to dismantle House Sun’rael. As a fellow family devoted to the wrathful flames of the Holy Light, we share a special kinship, I'd wager.” He didn't wait for Syrahn to speak before making his case. “None of my family was harmed during the attack on the Glade either. It just doesn't make sense for us to raise a hand against them.” Syrahn found it remarkably difficult to read their faces, but a part of her was merely convinced she was just searching for something that wasn't there. What both of them said sounded genuine and believable, and if everyone she talked to was this convincing, she was in for a grand waste of her time. “But you know who would want to harm House Sun’rael?” Lord Victus spoke up, catching her attention again. “House Greyshade.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Syrahn quickly asked before a sharp inhale; the animosity between the Sunpaths and Greyshades was no secret. If she knew it was more than a house dedicated to the Holy Light and a house devoted to the Void distrusting each other out of instinct Syrahn wouldn't have let either of them into the Amber Glade in the first place. “Or is this your excuse for me to banish your enemies?”

“House Greyshade killed two of my nephews.” As expected Victus was quick on the draw to defend his family. “Listen - I don't have proof so I'm not saying they did it… but they've hired cutthroats to do their dirty work before. And as a family of warlocks and shadow priests, they're predisposed to hate a fellow house of paladins.”

Syrahn wasn’t interested in their rivalry. It looked childish to keep such grudges as someone on the outside looking in, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was in his very same shoes not even two years ago; House Flamesunder held such bitterness for her family, and it resulted in a civil war that almost brought the Amber Glade to ruin. Before she was able to open her mouth to comment, the carriage finally stopped at the first destination of many. “House Greyshade, my Lady.” Sven called out from the driver’s seat, as Lord Zaetan stepped outside to open her door for her.

“I should probably stay here.” Lord Victus suggested, leaning back in his seat.

The Glade Queen gave him a long stare before her door was opened. “You probably should.”

Mentions: @k-sunrael @house-sunrael

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Beneath the New Moon

She heard but a whisper in the wind, a voice at the edge of her senses calling her name. She dared not answer. She dared not speak.

Syrahn was wide awake long before she had any right to be. The earliest hours of the day were spent staring up at the ceiling in her soft feathered bed; with nothing but the darkness blanketing her chambers, the sound of her labored breathing, and the steady rhythm of her pounding heart to keep her company. Yet every now and then her head would pop off her pillow at the return of the whispers, and she would sit upright in her bed and strain herself to catch the sounds again, until she either convinced herself her paranoia was playing tricks on her, or lost interest. After the sixth time it happened, Syrahn finally had enough.

The Glade Queen slipped out from underneath her covers to plop her bare feet on the soft but cold carpet. With outstretched hands she wandered toward her desk like a blind woman stumbling down the street, using her extended fingers to find her weathered lantern. A simple whisper of an incantation and the Holy Light flitted from her hands and banished the shadows that gripped her chambers like an ominous presence. She sat down at her desk while her eyes adjusted to the light, clumsily pushing parchment and unfinished letters aside until she found a clean sheet along with her quill and inkwell.

Lady Sun’rael,

I would like to personally thank you for your contribution to repairing the Amber Glade, but I’d also like to apologize for the recent events that have otherwise crippled your once powerful house. The houses under my protection will not be pleased to hear you will not be paying the rest of the debt, but rest assured my family can take care of the rest. It’s a shame you were forced to sell your father’s old forge to make ends meet. I must also regretfully inform you that while I am starting an investigation on the attempt to take your life, I cannot make any guarantees to proper justice. House Greyshade is a noble house and an asset to the Amber Glade, and I cannot simply punish them for this transgression until I am absolutely sure they were the ones responsible. That said, House Bladewhisper is still in the process of repairing Lord Wilhelm’s blade. I trust they will do all that they can to restore it efficiently. The death of Alucieus still weighs heavily on my shoulders. There were so many things I could have done better. I don’t know what it’s like to lose neither a father nor a husband, but if you or Lady Covaya need respite I will offer whatever I can. Given the recent attempt on your life I understand if you don’t want to step foot in the Glade until the perpetrators have been dealt with.

Tyrasam will not be leaving the Amber Glade, but Whitstan will be pleased to learn she has agreed to give up custody of Jaeras should he still wish to raise her. She does wish to still spend time with her during the holidays and her birthdays, but that’s between her and Whitstan. With luck his runesword will be repaired and ready by the time he arrives. Both House Bladewhisper and House Greyshade have been hard at work restoring the weapon to its former glory. If House Sun’rael is still operating with mercenaries, the Amber Glade would be pleased to give you some of our contacts, as well as send any your way. It’s the least we can do for all of the trouble we caused.

PS: Tell Covaya I said hello, and once all of this madness settles down, I would be happy to entertain the prospect of House Sun’rael joining the Amber Glade. It’s politics are tiresome and many of the people are detestable, but the quality of life is certainly worth it.

As certain as the tenuous peace between the Horde and Alliance is erased the moment an otherworldly threat is eliminated, our friendship is certain to endure.

-Lady Syrahn Bloodfeather

@k-sunrael​ @whitstanwilhelm​

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Webs We Weave

The angry crowd was in full force this morning.

The Amber Castle was surrounded by a moat of elves, all trying to shout over each other to angrily explain their grievances. The guardsmen kept their weapons sheathed but their shields at the ready, creating a block at the single portcullis to prevent them from surging forth and storming the castle; others patrolled the walls to make sure nobody tried scaling the walls, while a handful of guards kept vigilant along the four towers, armed with crossbows - just in case things got out of hand.

They were out there long enough to compel House Bloodfeather to respond, and who better to speak to the people than the Commander of the Amber Glade? When Syrahn appeared the crowd grew even louder, shouting all sorts of things directly at her while they tried to muscle through the wall of shields and heavy plated armor. By the time her sister Miriam wrote up a convincing speech, there were well over five hundred people gathered where they could see her, with no signs of anyone dispersing anytime soon; it wasn’t every day a commoner was able to get an audience with the “Glade Queen” they so affectionately called her. A part of her felt like that was an insult, but over half a year of hearing that title, Syrahn decided to own it. She raised her hand to silence the crowd, and after a prolonged period, they eventually settled down.

“I know you have many questions… many concerns. I am grateful for the peaceful assembly, and will reward your patience with the answers you seek.” Her voice was amplified by speakers, carrying her words far beyond her sight, while a barrage of white flashes of light struck her face and body from cameras too numerous to count. “Thanks to the outstanding vigil and bravery of our City Guard, the threat to the Amber Glade has been swiftly dealt with.” It was difficult to lie to the faces of so many people, but not as difficult as she had thought. After all, she was learning from the best.  “Our borders have already been secured, our safety within the boundaries of the Glade, guaranteed. I’ve ordered the masons to work day and night to get our border rebuilt, and doubled the guard patrols in the area to prevent any criminals from trespassing on our homeland.”

“Lady Bloodfeather! What about the rumors that the attacker was actually Alucieus Sun’rael, the sole Sin’dorei High Justicar?” a man shouted over the crowd while concerned murmurs reverberated like ripples across a pond.

“A falsehood.” Syrahn calmly yet quickly answered. “Lord Alucieus died in Dalaran from wounds he received fighting in Highmountain.” She felt nauseous from that, but she was able to swallow it down to maintain a confident façade.

“Many of our sons were killed during that attack!” Another shouted from her distant left. “What will House Bloodfeather do for us?!”

Syrahn glanced down at the parchment in her hands, hidden on the other side of her podium from the countless prying eyes. “Your sons have been avenged. We will hold a proper ceremony to honor those that fell during the struggle.” The steady crescendo of angry voices was all she needed to hear when gauging the crowd. She raised a hand again to silence them before adding, “Their funerals will be paid for in full, as well as the rest of their year’s salary to the grieving families. I cannot give you back your sons, brothers, or fathers… but I hope we all give their souls the rest they deserve.”

Miriam watched her sister's display from within the castle. Syrahn was quickly learning to effectively peddle lies to the brainless fools at the bottom of the pecking order, but she still had a long way to go before she could get anything past Miriam. Casually the woman sipped from her wine glass to maintain her numbing buzz, staying just tipsy enough to keep herself occupied. The crowd was finally thinning out by the time she finished the last few drops of the bottle, giving Syrahn some merciful reprieve from their exhausting interrogation. Slowly she waved to them one last time before turning to retreat back into the Amber Castle. “How are you feeling?” Miriam asked once the doors behind her were closed. Syrahn shot her an exhausting look before tearing the parchment down the middle to toss the pieces over her shoulders.

“Tired and angry. And in desperate need for a drink.” Syrahn seemed to limp a bit while they continued down the hallway; she shouldn’t stand with her knees locked for such a long time.

Miriam let out a sigh before looking down at her disgruntled sister. “I know it feels wrong to lie to so many people. For a long time I hated it too, for a time… but as the um…  ahem… ‘Glade Queen’... it is your duty to ensure your people feel safe, even when they shouldn’t. It’s a necessary evil, Syrahn. You did well today.”

“You rarely give me words of encouragement…” Syrahn narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Miriam. “... what’s happened? What’s the bad news?”

“See for yourself.” Miriam opened the door to Syrahn’s office and gestured for her sister to step inside. Immediately Syrahn noticed the large wooden chest sitting in the middle of the room, sticking out like a sore thumb. It was made of duskwood oak, covered in pale elf leather, and reinforced with ghost iron; a bleak and dreary thing, especially when surrounded by orange velvet and crimson curtains. Resting upon it was a banner as black as night, and the silhouette of a raven entwined in twisting vines; the unmistakable sigil of House Sun’rael.

“Is that… the payment…?” Syrahn was reluctant to ask. It certainly didn’t look to be six million gold coins. Miriam remained silent, instead gesturing toward the chest again. Hesitantly she stepped closer to place her hand on the banner. It was such a peculiar thing, being this close to this sigil; she had seen it so many times flapping alongside the Bloodsworn Vanguard banners of old, she could perfectly draw it straight from memory. Yet seeing it now, it seemed so… foreign. Opening the chest turned out to be a mistake. The heavy iron lock was already popped open, likely from the court’s locksmith, yet the lid was far heavier than she expected. Inside sat row after row of gold coins, all bearing the face of the late King Anasterian. The hopeful twinkle in her eyes came and went in an instant after doing a quick count. There weren’t nearly enough.

“The chest came with this letter.” Miriam stepped forward and offered it with an extended hand. Syrahn carefully closed the chest without smashing her fingers, straightened out her robes when she stood up straight, and hesitantly took the letter to inspect it.

“The seal is broken.” She narrowed her eyes at the letter before glancing up at her sister.

Miriam turned to the nearby table and began pouring herself more wine. “As chief of security I am responsible for your safety. When the High Justicar laid waste to our outer defenses, we became vulnerable… any fool with enough determination can draw a fire rune in a forged letter.” She turned to glance back at Syrahn. “Read it. You’ll want to know what it says.” Closely she watched her youngest sister’s expression change faster than she could blink.

(( You can read the letter here. ))

“She sold all of Alucieus’ belongings to make this payment… and it’s only nine hundred thousand…” Syrahn’s furrowed brow relaxed into a frustrated scowl. “And… it’s the last she’s sending.” She took a step to the side to sit on the edge of the chest; the Glade Queen fell silent again, her eyes darting back and forth along the letter almost as quick as lightning. Slowly but surely her furrowed brow returned. “Gods… she was atta-”

A heavy knock on the door nearly caused her to fall backwards over the chest. “C-come in!” Miriam set her glass of wine down the moment Captain Zandis stepped into the chamber; he was carrying an urn painted with his house’s colors. “Zandis…”

“Lady Miriam. Lady Bloodfeather.” He was almost unrecognizable with his voice blown out; the black circles under his eyes kept Syrahn’s tongue still. “I am sending in my resignation as Captain of the Guard. I am returning to my home to scatter my father’s ashes.”

Miriam crossed her arms while she started carefully watching him next. “There’s no need to be so drastic. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

Zandis didn’t bother looking up at either Bloodfeather. “I am sure.”

“I can’t stop you from leaving.” Syrahn finally found her voice again. “Take all the time you need to mourn… but I need you to come back. Please Zandis… reconsider. I… need you here to defend me.”

Slowly the elf’s piercing gaze rose to meet the Glade Queen’s. “I watched my father die.” His trembling voice was now seething with rage. “My father is dead because I did nothing!”

“That’s not true…” Syrahn was quick to interrupt, but her words were unconvincing even to her.

Miriam’s slight grimace remained steadfast. “If you charged the High Justicar, he would have killed you too. Or, he would have killed Syrahn. You already know this.”

Zandis almost staggered forward while choking on his words, but whether it was from furious anger or exhaustion, they couldn’t be sure. “If I fought alongside… we could have…” He covered his face with his only free hand, squeezing the urn so tightly against his chest it threatened to shatter. He regained his composure quickly enough, glaring vacantly in their direction before straightening himself out again. “Will that be all, Lady Bloodfeather.”

“I…” Syrahn didn’t know what else to say to him. Zandis was a good man and a capable fighter, he certainly proved that when she rose to claim the Amber Glade for herself; he was a true friend of House Bloodfeather, and the thought of him stepping out of her life forever brought her nothing but confusion. “Y-yes…” Without another word he spun on his heel and departed. Syrahn collapsed back onto the chest the moment the door slammed shut, letting the letter slip from her hands to fall idle on the floor.

Miriam plucked her glass of wine off the table to finish what she started. “House Sun’rael is not paying us what is owed. Her daughter has risen to power in her house. Assassins tried to kill her in her apartment, bearing House Greyshade’s ensignia. And now we need another Captain of the Guard.” She downed the glass before tossing it back onto the table. “I’m beginning to think House Sun’rael isn’t the ally you were hoping for.”

“Both Alucieus and Sorlu died because of my botched plans. The damage to the Amber Glade is my fault.” Syrahn leaned forward and dropped her face into her awaiting hands. “I just tried to do what’s right.”

“Might I offer some council?” Her sister walked over and sat on the chest beside alongside her. “You are trying to do too many things at once, too quickly. Take a deep breath, take all the time you need… then focus on one task at a time. It’s what I did when I was head of our family when our brothers left.” Miriam paused only to place a hand on her shoulder. “One. Task. At a time. Now, Syrahn, Daughter of Baeran: what is your next move?”

Syrahn glanced up to look Miriam in the eyes for a moment to collect herself. Then the determination flashed across her face once again. “Find a craftsman in the Market Square. I need them to make a chest just like this one… but four times bigger.” The Glade Queen tapped the chest with her palm before turning to look around the room, as if the answers she needed were floating around her head. “I can mimic Kaevia’s penmanship if I put some practice in…”

“You plan to forge a letter?” Miriam perked a brow. “That would be very bad for us if we’re caught.”

“If we’re caught. The other houses will not put this issue to rest unless they’re convinced House Sun’rael has paid the debt in full. If these assassins truly did come from us… from House Greyshade… we’ll need to stop them. Hopefully the debt being repaid will suffice until we get to the bottom of this.”

“Do you plan to confront Lord Iveth Greyshade about his missing brooch?” Miriam asked.

“I do. But not publicly.” The wheels in Syrahn’s head were beginning to turn. “I don’t want to start pointing fingers before I know for certain. Only a fool would dress assassins in their own colors.”

Miriam leaned back with a smirk on her lips, clearly pleased. “Very good. And the new captain?”

“Many in House Bladewhisper are handy with a blade. Offer the position to one of them.” Syrahn slowly rose from the chest to approach the window. “Get Viridias in on this. She’s better with money than both of us combined.”

“At once.” She couldn’t tell if Miriam was mocking her or not, but she didn’t care. The Glade Queen remained silent while her oldest sister left her alone with this bleak chest, finally giving her the alone time she needed to sort her thoughts out.

She promised herself she wouldn’t give her friends any more favors. She was mistaken.

Mentions: @alucieussunrael @k-sunrael

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Spider. And Chaos the Name

Enclosed with the rather lengthy missive was two large chests that were very heavy and a black velvet satchel with a brooch inside.

Lady Bloodfeather;

It seems hard times have found us though you will be happy to hear that the first installment of my mother’s payment towards the Amber Glade goes hand in hand with this letter. She has sold all my father’s belongings including his forge and her house to pay you just a little over nine hundred thousand gold pieces. What you will not be happy to hear is that this first installment of a payment will be her last and there will be no more to follow.

As this letter finds you, I also wish to inform you on some changes that have been made in the course of a week. The Registry has been preparing the official copies of the sign documents I offered them just this morning which is legally bestowing me as the head executor and curator for House Sun’rael. All information pertaining to the House as well as the noble Houses in name and their household funds and land will be granted and divided by me, through me as current and reigning Matriarch over what is the legacy of the Sun’rael fortune and name.

I am certain this might come as a surprise as the last any of us had taken to visit it was my mother who held the title shortly after my father’s death though it has recently come to me that I do not think her a sound and stable fit at this current juncture for such pressure and responsibility so soon after she had already lost so much and has been forced to give up everything she has ever known while also trying to make ends meet with a young son.

I am more than certain you can imagine her grief. Should you ever have children of your own someday, you will come to know the instinct that follows with it which is much of the reason I choose to make this letter now and this declaration.

I forfeit any decision made prior on my mother’s behalf to make payments to the Amber Glade for destruction made to the grounds. I sincerely hope the 900,000 in gold is more than enough to sustain the families for their losses, cover funeral costs as well as pay for any medical attention they might have accrued.  House Sun’rael will send no more money to the favor of the Glade’s poor decision. I will stand firm on this and I refuse to let the name of my father be beaten into the ground with nothing for future generations. He and my Uncle worked too hard to build the House into what it is today to be bullied into submission by the expectation of your noblemen.

Enclosed with this letter you will also find a brooch with the sigil of House Greyshade. I believe their assassins left this behind last night when they decided to impede in on Whitstan’s apartment with intent to kill. As you can imagine he is very much standing, as well as myself. Greyshade’s assassins failed and those you keep in your counsel have made you a target of speculation, Lady Bloodfeather. I would hope that your love for our name and friendship with my family that it is in your best interest to look into this matter, disappointment aside with the news that this letter brings.

Light bless;

K. Sunrael Matriarch of House Sun’rael

[ @syrahnbloodfeather ]

[syrahnbloodfeather]

More Than Necessary

“They’re beautiful.” Covaya remarked as she looked over the several flowers in the garden. Silvia nearby as the older woman offered a nod in the Lady Covaya’s direction.

“I tend to them everyday if I can, else it is Illdarien that sees to them. Flowers have a way of cheering people up and brightening any room.”

“That they do.” Covaya confirmed.

Her had passed over a few light mageroyal wondering if this is how retirement for her would be. Would she be content with tending to flowers as a hobby? As her sister, Ashelin once did before her. She was utterly alone aside from her children. Both her sister’s Ashlein and Nysaira had passed and now, her husband. Altherian had been the only one close to her that remained safe.

A collection of tears threatened to fall though they remained brimmed at her lower lash line, blurring her vision from the pink and red petals before her. It was the loud bang of the rear doors swinging open furiously and hitting the stone wall behind him that made the Paladin jump, her tears finally falling which she reached a hand to draw them away, “Kaevia?” she asked confused as she and Silvia stood as Kaevia strode with intent toward the two with Illdarien in tow.

“Has there been anyone at the estate this evening?”

“N-no my Lady…” Silvia ushered out and then offered a confused glance towards the Lady’s mother and then back at the Priestess, “Just us three and the children. All of whom sleep now.”

Kaevia swiftly rounded towards her mother flicking the sigil betwixt her index and middle finger, “Does this mean anything to you? Whitstan and I were just in his apartment when three unknown men from the shadows came for us – me in particular or so it seems. This is a sigil of the Glade.” Her tone was heavy, sharp and with intent for blame as the brooch was thrusted towards Covaya.

“Greyshade?” Covaya looked perplexed as she inspected the heavy sigil of the skull and spirit, “It doesn’t make sense. Are you sure they were sent for you? Do you have anything of theirs?”

“Of course not, mother.” Kaevia expelled out a sigh, hand falling to her side with a faint slap along her slacks, “Why am I being sent assassins from the Glade if they are expecting you to pay? This makes little to no sense and now I’m angered. There isn’t a safe place, even in the city.”

“I’ll write to Syrahn and ask.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll do so myself. Have you finished with tending to yours and Arden’s rooms?”

“I have b–” “Good. Get comfortable because I will need you to assist Silvia and Illdarien in placing some wards around the estate. Everyone that enters will have their person checked and weapons removed upon entry and no one enters without  purpose. Couriers are to be stopped at the gates.” Kaevia directed a pointed finger towards the ground, “All those who call to the estate will give their name and purpose, friends and foes be damned. No one goes to the city without an escort until I get this settled.”

“What will you do?” Covaya asked as she quickly caught up behind Kaevia who was already walking off.

“Sign papers, send letters and stand my ground.” Kaevia bellowed down the hall as she continued her fast stride to the study.

Silvia pursed her lips as she placed a hand to Covaya’s mantle for recurrence, “Her stubbornness will get her killed one of these days.” the Lady Paladin offered lowly coupled with a frown.

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Surprise Visit

It was just a couple days before he could pick up his daughter yet everything seemed wrong and twisted in his chest.

The hours felt like days to someone like him. Sometimes Whitstan wished he could go to sleep. His hand hovered over where his heart would be in his torso, resting against it for a few moments. There were no beats, no warmth, nothing but a hollow coldness that radiated from his presence. Would this really be enough? Emotions were a new thing for him to process, still. For years he was unfeeling and calculated- now fresh wounds were torn open with the soul that was keeping his mind in check bound to his runeblade was torn from him. Whitstan was a living dead man filled with regrets and his mind constantly shifted to the woman he loved. He wanted to be there for her, but he needed to give her space. He wanted to be next to her, but he couldn’t smother her. He wanted to call her home his, but couldn’t impose himself. He wanted to be her husband but not ruin her noble standing as an invalid lover who couldn’t produce offspring.

But worst of all… he had killed the father of the woman he loved.

For that, there was no regret in his heart- the man was corrupted and a shadow of the person Kaevia adored and loved wholeheartedly. Still… it was the same man. He sat silently in his apartment in Murder Row as frost spread across the floor and throughout all the furniture he had installed to make his domicile more palatable for his living guests and lover. Not that he had any guests aside from her.

On overt sigh came followed by a frosted breath, “Sorry, Kaevia…” he uttered to himself. A shake of the head came before he decided to step out and take a walk down the most dangerous alleyways in Quel’thalas. He meandered toward the exit of the city while thinking of an excuse to visit her.

A clatter came when a stave fell to the ground and a woman spoke out upon banging into the Death Knight. The Priestess had smacked right into Whitstan upon turning the corner and due to her petite frame in comparison to his own, Kaevia landed straight on her arse with a flurry of her cloak to follow and two scrolls flicking into the air, “I swear…I don’t need glasses.” And a few more muffled words escaped her as she aimed to remove the flap of her cloak from her head and eyes.

The Death Knight’s piercing blue eyes settled on the woman. “Miss.” he offered with a smile and extended hand- the echoed voice sounding out, “Could I offer you a hand?”

Looking up she took the offered hand, “Ah! Fancy meeting you in my journey. Actually I was about to pay you a visit since the days have been busy and there hasn’t been much time for conversation.” Standing she brushed off her backside and adjusted her cloak before twisting to find the two scrolls she had dropped. With luck, they looked fairly unscathed and she snatched them up to tuck them safely into her belt.

Eyes shifted to the scrolls and back to the woman in front of him. “A visit? Didn’t expect that, but pleasant never-the-less. Did you want to head back to my place? I was just thinking about heading to yours. Either way, I suppose mine is closer.” Whitstan rambled slightly, bringing her closer. She was about the only person who could unnerve the consistently stoic Knight.

Kaevia offered a nod as she smoothed her hands over the various areas of her attire, still she looked a little jumbled. Picking up her stave she placed it over her shoulder, “If you prefer that to a bench. I was hoping to get your input on something.”

Keep reading

[syrahnbloodfeather]

It’s Okay to Say No

“Is this really necessary?” “It is.” “To sell everything you ever owned and father ever owned to pay for a few statues people likely cocked a squat on during drunken nights and a bunch of bushes that can grow back. Six million? That’s absurd.”

“It is but what would you expect of the Amber Glade? They have expensive tastes.”

“For starters? How about a little empathy as they aren’t the only ones suffering a loss. I suppose I shouldn’t expect so much from those types of nobles as they give so little. They’re quick to care about their own but anyone else’s suffering is null and void.”

“It’s the way of the world, Kaevia.”

“It doesn’t have to be and maybe it is the way of their world. Cooped up behind a wall with nothing but a mediocre castle of stone and houses to look at. They really do nothing to assist in the growth of the Sin’dorei people.” Kaevia crossed her arms looking out the window as Covaya’s household was hard at work crating and packaging her father’s forge, wares and belongings for transport. All to be sold off to pay the Sun’rael debt that the Amber Glade dangled above their heads, “–not when they bend knees such as this for a plan they concocted.”

Covaya remained silent at her desk as she elegantly wrote upon the parchment, something she had been compiling since the wee hours of the morning and long before Kaevia’s visit. She was listening and though the woman was great at multitasking, she welcomed the reprieve and studious escape the letters brought.

“Don’t pay the debt.” Kaevia boldly spoke and finally she turned towards her mother.

“What?” the quill ceased and Covaya glanced up to her daughter, “You can’t be serious in suggesting such.”

“I am. Wholeheartedly. What are they going to do if you don’t sign away your coin?” Kaevia listed forward along the front the desk to place her hands upon the lip and gazed down at her mother, “Their plan backfired and now that it did, they’re looking for compensation and the only people they can pin it on is our House. Tell them no.”

“My friendship with Syrahn would hang in the balance Kaevia, I do not think you understand the support that the Glade offers in times of war.”

“I do but without Father to lead them as he has in the past, do they offer much at all and even if you do pay the sum, will they after? Let Syrahn lead her own people. Furthermore; You cannot afford to be beckoned away again with Arden. It is time you have taken your retirement, mother. I’ll be damned if I watch you spend your days wasting away in debt over some rocks and bushes.” reaching in, Kaevia pulled the parchment from under the tip of Covaya’s quill, “Uncle is nowhere to be found, Syhris has been gone for a little over half a decade and there is no other Sun’rael fit, like myself, to continue our name.” with purpose, Kaevia rolled up the scroll and Covaya placed the quill into the empty well beside her.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Recognize me as Matriarch in both right and as being of legitimate name and I will see to it that the Sun’rael name remains prosperous and does not befall hard times. Sell your estate, pay Syrahn the gold for your wares and come live with me. Have your retirement and I will pick up with your connections in Orgrimmar. If I cannot lead a Vanguard or have the head of a Commander, I can find other ways and tasks for income and to keep our name tacked to what we are known best for but House Sun’rael will not be putting our heads in debt for decades to come.”

“Such as?”

“War machines. It isn’t the first time such a thing has been employed under our banner and your contact Pixxie in Orgrimmar still, I suspect she would be hungry for some work. What’s more is I hear tensions in Sillithis have risen and this Azurite is causing quite a stir. If anything…we prosper through the means of blackmarket trading and underground networking. It isn’t the first time I have dabbled with such a thing considering Mercenaries pass through my bar daily. Some are quite loyal as well who could use a little extra work.”

A sharp inhale was afford from the Paladin as she leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers above her stomach, “Hand the family name over?” She scoffed, “You reach too high Kaevia.”

“Not high enough.”

“Your father would roll over in his grave if he had one.”

“–and he would trust me all the same because I am his daughter. Was it not I who kept Oathguard afloat during his illness and before Rethandus took the charge? I can do this. What is more is cousin Paltiel and Uncle Altherian still hold their shipping and trade within their House, Dalin’thar and Sun’rael could be more of a boon to one another this way than ever before.”

Covaya licked the center of her lips and a hand passed over her chin as silence found her. She was of course, thinking, taking the time to ponder the situation, “You will anger a lot of people. I will anger a lot of people if we decide to do this Dalah’surfal…”

“They will learn to get over it. I refuse to watch the Sun’rael name be bent into submission and ruin because of another’s folly nor to take the blame for the wrongdoing of another; it being Father or not.”

Covaya’s fingers splayed out from her face when she shrugged, “Fine. I will make my way to the registry today. I will send word to the other family members including your Uncles about the plans moving forward and I will ensure to dismiss my household and place the estate up for sale.”

“I’ll see to it that Silvia starts to prepare rooms for you and Arden.”

“Appreciated, though….Kaevia I must ask, does Whitstan stay with you?”

“From time to time. I suspect he doesn’t overstay his welcome in fear of being too imposing or trying to come off as if though he is inserting himself into the family.”

“And you love him?”

There was a long silence from the Priestess and she glanced down to place the scroll she had been holding down beside her mother’s books, “Yes though it is a different kind of love that I don’t expect others to understand. He has stood with me through a lot. He seems to care and some days I see sparks of life in him and others I am reminded of why he is what he is.”

“You do know that him being in your life is going to make it harder for you to keep claim to Matriarch since you cannot continue to produce children due to him being a Death Knight? By that alone, some would already dismiss you because of their distrust.”

“All the more reason to prove them wrong. Furthermore, I have my children and he has Jaeras before his undeath. I believe if we cared for more adoption is always an option.”

“But they won’t be biological.”

“Then I suspect adaptation will be on the rise.”

With an overt sigh, Covaya rose from her desk and wandered the room for the sake of stretching her legs, “I’ll make a trip into Orgrimmar tomorrow and gather the blueprints and schematics that we had prior to our trip into Draenor, I suspect Pixxie will be tickled pink to fill her pockets again.”

“Of course. If there is anything I have learned is that there is never peace for long.”

[[ Mentions: @syrahnbloodfeather - @whitstanwilhelm - @alucieussunrael - @the-lady-of-war - @house-sunrael - @paltiel ]]