Reunification-2 Darius Scene Addition (Patreon)

After all of the fuss on the forums I said I'd add a Darius scene to Reunification-2 to make sentiments a little clearer. Here it is a few days early for you guys.

Comes directly before the Godfrey Execution scene at the start of the chapter.

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It had come as a surprise to learn that the Crowley townhouse in Greymane Court had remained intact throughout the rebellion. Certainly not untouched, with clear signs of rummaging and investigation performed by skilled and unskilled hands, but the wealth present had been left largely intact and the portraits of his grandmother who had first purchased the residence remained upon the walls.

Darius was less certain as to what had become of his staff, and their absence and possible injury weighed upon his mind. Yet he could hardly spend the time to search for them – they would return, or they would not.

Reaching up he took down the still clock hanging over the mantelpiece, bought when they first had been created by his father, and began to wind the springs and set the time. If all could be so easily mended there would be hardly such a need for compromise, for the sacrifices that were being asked of him.

With a click, the door to the office slid open on faintly creaking hinges and signalled his guests’ arrival. They would need to be oiled – yet, he would not retain this home much longer, would he?

"From what I've heard of the demands made of you, I'm half surprised we didn't find you in a bottle." Frank Candren said with faux surprise as he entered, his wife and son not far behind him. "Frankly, I feel I could use one myself."

"Much like the silverware, alcohol has found itself able to freely wander away from my residence." Darius returned with a wry smile. "Still – there is always the spare." Gesturing for the trio to take a seat he moved to the portrait of his grandmother's wedding and tilted the portrait slightly. A few moments later a weight fell, allowing the steel-framed section of brick wall to swing open. "My selection is poor, I'm afraid. Misting White 2767, Dalaran Noir 2996, and one of Tobias' personal whisky distillations."

Purposefully leaving one of the two bottles of the latter behind, he brought out the drinks. He would pass the other to Howard when he saw him next, to be shared with Vivianne.

"Don't those kick like a drunken dwarf?" Frank said with a raised brow. "Alright, pour me a glass."

"What he means to say, is that he will have some of the Dalaran Noir." Camille smiled daintily. "His constitution is not the best at the moment – and a flute of Misting for me, if you please." Arnold clearly wanted to try the drink his father had been denied, but a few moment's thought had him consider the better of going against his mother.

It was good to sit and drink with friends, caring not for whether they would live to see the next day. Good men had fought and died aplenty in the last months. For reasons just and foolish; a common truth of wars between men.

Over the course of an hour, many others of the rebellion made their appearance and joined them in their relaxation. Cigars were lit, stories were regaled, and merriment was made; some more enthused than others, but all clearly waiting for the business at hand. He too felt some impatience to see things finished. To return to the work of seeing the nation put to rights.

Yet there was only so much he could do now, lest he undermine the efforts of his own daughter; so he held his tongue, waiting until the last of those he expected arrived.

"Bishop Warren, Sir Magroth, I am glad you could join us." He raised a glass to them and they received a similar chorus from the others in attendance. "Might I presume you would prefer to turn to business rather than take a drink like my fellows?"

Sir Magroth nodded formally, his movements somehow stiffer outside of armour than within. "As you say, let us see our business concluded."

Rather than answer, Bishop Warren merely sat in an empty chair and closed her eyes. The fire that had burned in her, desiring vengeance, had long petered out and now she merely looked tired. That her oftentimes shadow, Bishop Miller, was absent, merely added to that appearance – neither priest had truly understood what it meant to go to war and it had quickly shown.

Still, it would be impolite to make mention of it. Drawing attention away from the Light-blessed pair, Darius stood.  "Unless a great wrong is done to us, this shall be the last meeting of the Northgate Rebellion. Liam Greymane sits upon his father's throne, our Northgate Charter is being examined with due diligence but will be implemented in word and spirit, if not the most pedantic and exacting of detail. I don't suppose any of you have objections to our new king choosing where the new House of Lords will be built instead of demolishing his own palace to make room?"

There were a few chuckles at his joke, yet with drink in their bellies it was unsurprising that at least one took offence to it. "Wendwater Isle is the seat of Gilnean rule," Lord Castern protested with a furious flapping of his hand, "and thus there should be the place from which we rule Gilneas!"

"Alongside those of the commonfolk, and the king himself." Sir Magroth added with a placid, yet remarkably firm, voice. "Perhaps King Liam shall see a reason to choose the Wendwater for this purpose. But it is far lesser matter to all else."

Darius nodded his agreement. "Indeed. Now, I yield the floor to those who have matters of substance to bring forth."

As he returned to his seat, Frank Candren rose alongside three others – it took but a moment for those lesser lords to back down. "King Liam gave me what I wished for, the title of Sea Lord returned and a mandate to rebuild our fleets, but what of you, Darius? You lead us this far, your daughter takes the throne... but are you satisfied with what will become of you? Your family?"

All eyes turned to him, though he might wish that they had not. "I am satisfied." He said after a moment's thought. It was not without pain, knowing the Crowley name would die out, yet it was worth the price. He must simply explain that to those who looked at him with sympathetic anger lest they act foolishly in his stead. "Were my house as storied as yours, the Sea Lords of the Headlands who have ruled since before Arathor's fall, I would be saddened. Angry. Furious. But how long has the Crowley name held sway?"

He gestured up at his grandmother's portrait. "From knights who served well in the War of Broken Oaths, to lords of our own lands, to my grandmother's shrewd work in reclaiming Ambermill from its brief independence. Three hundred years, Frank. Three hundred years is not so long a history."

"Aye, your family benefited greatly from other's misfortune." Frank nodded, an amused smirk forming which he quickly hid behind his drink. "Were Marley here with us he'd be cursing you out for stealing Pyrewood from his family."

Protecting what the Marleys failed to protect, often at great expense to themselves, was not theft – but he had surrendered Pyrewood to the Silverlaines already, and the rest would be in good hands.

"As for my lands..." He waved a dismissive hand. "They go to my daughter. My heir. She will look after them for me. I am satisfied, Frank, have no fear of that."

"Then I am satisfied also." Frank said, returning to his seat.

Bowford stood next. "I speak for many of us in saying that so long as the House of Lords comes to be, in a form equal in power if not detail to that outlined in the charter, we shall be satisfied." He looked to Sir Magroth, debating to speak further, but chose to sit down instead.

There were some complaints about the war's abrupt end, largely from minor lords from the Ember Hills who had joined the rebellion to settle petty grudges against their fellows. There would be many changes in that region, likely at the young Duchess Walden's expense, over the coming months; whether official or not the balance of power there had shifted greatly.

After the executions tomorrow, of whom Darius was privy to at least one name, more titles would need to be reshuffled. Some would gain, others would lose; likely those who had fought the least would be rewarded most.

In the end, this was a peace of compromises, and not all could achieve their desire. And, in that vein, eyes at last turned to the bishop in their midst and her escort.

"What of you, Lady Bishop, do you feel justice has been achieved?" Darius asked plainly. There was little reason to dance around the topic any longer; he had faith she would not follow Tulvan's path, yet should she choose to, the peace they had won could shatter in a moment.

Her eyes remained closed and her head fell further. "I... am not satisfied." She said, making Darius' muscles tense. "Yet I wish for no more war. I've spoken at length with Bishop Rowan... likely to soon be Archbishop Rowan for what he achieved, and we have come to a... compromise." At last she opened her eyes, exhaustion plain as day upon one who wished for things to simply be done. "There is no traditional form of abdication. Yet we will make it so; Genn Greymane will relinquish his crown for all to see, speak clearly his inadequacy, and the Church of Dawn shall crown our new king. If such is not against the will of the rebellion."

"A fine end to a fool's reign!" Baronet Dober yelled, raising his glass high above him as he grinned widely in anticipation of the spectacle.

Similar sentiments echoed across the room. Others sharing in his eagerness to witness a king humiliate themselves publicly.

"Then the Northgate Rebellion is finished, our goals achieved." Darius said as things died down. "May the Light and Lords of the Blackwald have mercy on those who choose to continue their doomed cause of bloody vengeance." He raised his glass in the air for a toast, and this time even Sir Magroth joined him.