The Winter War: Part 5 - Perilous Politics (Patreon)

Jessi Falrevere watched the mounting political play with no small amount of wariness. House Ashvane's silent backing was not guaranteed after all, but her father carried on without a care. 

"We have sunk ships of theirs, Daelin, these trolls are not the gods of the sea you feared, yet you still withdraw our forces!?" Her father slammed his fists against the map table. 

Daelin's entire body bristled as he brought himself to his full, impressive height. "Sunk, but not without cost, Falravere. What's more, they have brought unto themselves dragons and even secured safe harbor in Silverpine!" 

"All the more reason to drive them out, no?" Lord Ashvane crooned. 

Arthur Waycrest shook his head but stayed silent as Daelin pushed forward. 

"To what end? Their army sits upon Lordaeron's capital and we have no measure for the size of their navy. We may well spend ourselves and leave Kul'Tiras open to pirate incursions, or a follow up invasion by these Drakkari or even the Amani." 

Lord Stormsong looked perturbed, "Fear dictates your decisions. Lord Admiral, do you have such little faith in the Tidemother?" 

"Logic and long term planning are my weapons Lord Stormsong." He traced a hand along the map. "We have tested the enemy and found then dangerous but managable. Best then, to keep them contained for now and to focus on ferrying soldiers from the South to the coast. When we march on the capital and liberate Lordaeron, their fleet shall do them little good then." 

"The capital," Her father sneered, "Is this city in which we reside not the capital? Lordaerons folly is not our own." 

Katherine's curt tone cut through the meeting, "We are of the Alliance, Falravere, whether you approve or not." 

"I disapprove of more than that," Her father spat, "But your coward of a husband dares not let me lead, for fear I shall show him up!" 

"Still your tongue," Arthur snapped, but her father was red in the face so words were well beyond reaching him. 

"I shall not. This entire council is a farce, a farce I say! You dither and dread and damn well waste our opportunities to slay these beasts. Then impugn me with your disregard but have not the courage to face me in a duel!" 

Daelin practically spat, "You have not the rank, the support, nor the wit to challenge me Falravere." 

"But we do," Lord Ashvane cut in, his wife's hand over his. 

The Proudmoore's numb stares of shock were almost comical, even Lord Waycrest could not speak, while Stormsong watched with bemusement. 

Lord Ashvane leaned forward, hand on the pommel of his axe, as he announced, "Or did your courage die with your son?" 

The reaction was immediate. 

Daelin's chair slid back with almost mechanical precision and Katherine's eyes became incredibly, terribly cold. 

Daelin, met Ashvane's gaze and answered without warmth or rage or life, "The duel shall be in half an hour, in the courtyard, our respective supporters shall bear witness." 

"A dual, duel," Lady Ashvane pried. 

"Bring as many as you will," Katherine answered as she turned to follow her husband from the chamber, her last words echoing for all to hear. 

"It shall not change anything." 

__________________________________________________________

Malakk sat alert but at ease within the parlor as his collaborators strode into the room and made way towards the plush chairs laid out for them. Among their number were the Barov matriarch and patriarch. All three Perenolde’s were present who were now a common sight in the palace when not out on campaign, and of course Kel’thuzad.

A part of Malakk still mourned that Uther was not among them, and that he could not yet invite the rumored Harvest Witches of Silverpine to his banquet hall. Uther's Honor and the ideals of the Harvest Witches would ensure more stable alliances than those built on resentment and pride. 

‘Well, it matters not, they have bound their fates to me now after all.’

Clasping his hands, he offered and easy grin, “My most noble allies, I welcome you.”

An array of greetings, bows and curtsies followed, none more simpering than that of Aiden_Perenolde.

“Oh, thank you Frost King Malakk and might I just say you are a most splendid host, I hope my agents have been serving you well,” he practically sang.

“I am heartened to hear it and yes indeed, their reports have made for fascinating reading,” Malakk offered. His gaze shifting to the man’s children who revealed nothing, though the fact Beve’s focus was locked on the other humans spoke volumes.

Turning his attention to them and casually crossing a leg, Malakk tapped his mobile throne, “Now then, as king it is my duty to hear and heed the concerns of my people and tend to their needs, with that in mind… I take it something troubles you all to request a meeting so suddenly?”

“Indeed,” Kel’Thuzad rumbled, “We feel you have not told us enough of your war plans,” The wizard began, growing silent at his ally’s collective glower.

“What he means to say is,” Illucia said gently. “Is that while your promises of titles and territory have been most generous. Some among us feel a touch adrift in the grander scheme of the war.”

Her husband nodded, “I am a proven commander, and the Perenolde’s bandits have their uses. As your allies it would be prudent for us to offer insights and advice on this war to ensure it comes to a swift end.”

Amused at the man throwing his own words back at him, Malakk grinned. “Your collective commitment to our cause is most inspiring and I assure that for any among you to feel this way was never my intent.”

He leaned back in his throne motioning for wine to be offered, which most accepted as he continued. “Since arriving in this land, I have found that while there are many similarities in how people live, the specifics can vary wildly, in this matter war is a prudent example.”

He motioned to a map of Northrend now adorning the walls, “Among my people it is not common to share war time strategies among those who are not overseeing an operation personally. This has roots in us dealing with foes who can rip information from one’s memories, especially in a recent war,” he rumbled before lightening his tone and adding, “We won.”

“I see, I see,” Perenolde murmured, “that is a wise decision. Lordaeron is a vast land after all, but with your arcanists and dragon rider’s information is not far for long. Thus so long as you can coordinate the battles revealing your plans to all may be more of a risk than it is a service.”

“I appreciate your understanding Lord Perenolde,” Malakk offered politely. “Still, I can see that this has concerned you all, and while there is a lull in momentum as we make ready, I would be happy to discuss whatever may be concerning you all now. Simply ask and I shall tell you, though know I have several weeks of strategy meetings being readied ahead of us, so what we discuss here will be more… Generalized,” He said in-elegantly.

Several brief glances followed as they seemingly tried to decide who would come forward first, before finally Alexi spoke up again.

“My Andorhol is expecting to see a host of Alliance soldiers arriving by the end of the month, and if Kel'Thuzad is to be trusted, it shall soon be followed by Saiden himself. I have managed to obfuscate the sabotage of my garrison forces but it seems foolhardy to not move now while they are ill-prepared. If we strike swiftly, we could even destroy the Bulwark from behind, but if we wait, they may be able to begin moving against us,”

“I heard tell some already have begun moving beyond the Bulwark,” Kel’thuzad cut in.

“Fair concerns, certainly so," Malakk nodded, before turning to the wizard. "Though, dear Kel’thuzad I must inform you that while interlopers did try to approach the monastery in secret, their efforts were uncovered and brought low. What’s more I shall be reinforcing the mountains going forward with the next shipment of troops.”

“You feel there is little use for we Alterici there then?” Aliden cut in from behind his father.

“Not at all, if you are able and willing to volunteer your brave mountaineers I would be happy to shuffle around the troop deployments,” Malakk chuckled. "Though, I would think that human agents can best be used in lands still ruled by our enemies, no?" 

Aiden was quick to move in, "There could be some benefits, especially if we moved to infiltrate, but we would need to ruminate on the matter for a time, Frost King Malakk." 

"I shall eagerly await your insights on this matter, Lord Perenolde." He waved towards Alexi and added, “As to your point, bold Alexi, I understand it, but must argue against it. The enemy forces have no choice but to move against us lest they risk losing momentum and more land, while we can fortify our position and fight them from a position of power. If we expand too quickly, rebel cells could spring up behind our line while Southern help to surround them." 

The warrior hummed and nodded, “You raise a fair point, still, I dislike the thought of Andorhol falling under the armies control more than it already has.”

“It is the primary Grain distributor among much of East Lordaron,” Illucia added, “Claiming it, or at least sabotaging it would serve well in the winter and deny our foes a resource.”

“An interesting line of thought, though is that still true in Winter?” Beve wondered.

“Less so,” Illucia conceded, barely restraining her soured tone. “But they are among the most well stocked cities and hold a surplus, as well as a defensible position.”

“Hmm, very well, we shall look over your respective agents’ assessments of the city’s defenses come the next war council if it pleases you all. Then we may discuss what is to be done to… Mute their threat, without showing our hand before it is necessary.”

The tension in the room eased as they continued to talk, Malakk offering them enough in general to assuage their concerns, while giving away nothing to specific, and was pleased by some of the ideas offered. Though naturally the evenings events turned to politics.

“I still fear you do not know what to do about the Elves,” Kel’thuzad said, tone sharp, his gaze sharper despite the wine. “They will not offer turncoats as the Alliance has, every last elf loathes trolls too much for such things and they would fear your touch upon their precious Sunwell.”

The magus waved towards a nearby map of Eastweld, “It is that reason before all others that Baron Rivendare is too wary to commit himself to your service. He knows the Elves may fall upon he and his city at any moment if he does.”

Alexis scoffed, “I doubt a Paladin among the heart of the rebel army would change sides regardless of the Elves.”

“Though the absence of your dear friend pains me, Kel’Thuzad,” Malakk said with a heartfelt sigh, “I am quite content to see this Baron where he is now. But as to the Elves, ah, the elves, they are a conundrum, but one that shall be sorted soon enough. As I have been told their response to my communications has been sent.”

The room was stunned, finally Beve spoke, “You are… In negotiations with the Elves?”

Malakk offered a refined shrug, “That may be too strong of a word. I merely informed them, or their diplomats capture and of my motives. As it stands my own agents have seen no sign of the Elves marshalling to make war upon us and our fleet travels unmolested by their navy.”

“So, you do not intend to make war upon them?” Kel’Thuzad asked carefully.

Malakk clicked his tongue, “That depends heavily upon their answer, however since coming to this land I have learned that the diplomats act with less authority than our own. So, if they cast him out, the decision on whether to make war on the High Elves will fall to a matter of moral and practical deliberation.”

'And a matter of Zul'jin,' Malakk mused, well aware of War Priest Hala'Zhi's purpose in the court besides offering insight. 'But that is a problem for another day, I am not so bound to Zul'jin that I must act in his favor.' 

“And the diplomat?” Aeden asked.

“Most likely to be executed, though if I deem he has been cast out to protect a cowardly king and he renders services unto me, I may change my mind. The matter is still in flux I am afraid. But worry not!” He cheered, “For if the Elves make war, they shall face a most unpleasant surprise. For now I cannot say more save that they are being observed by forces unseen and pose little threat.”

As quiet acceptance began to descend upon the room, Malakk motioned for the scribe and continued, “I had intended to address this come morning, but as you are gathered here, I must ask you. Noble Perenolde’s, what are your thoughts of your cousin, Aedelas_Blackmoore?”

The reaction was immediate but varied.

Beve let loose an impressively hateful scowl that would have been a fine contender in any duel to the death. Aliden cringed as if in pain but unwilling to share it while their father scoffed, slapping his fist against the chair.

“That disloyal traitor is no family of mine, I’d see him dead if the choice were mine,” the older man snapped.

Beve drew back in alarm, already looking ready to assuage her father’s words but Malakk waved her off. “Fear not my reaction, Beve, for while kin-slaying is a generally contemptible crime, that is only true when the wounded party has done no wrong. Otherwise, it is merely viewed as any other example of justice, if a more complicated one.”

Malakk gently took the letter passed to him by the scribe which he waved lazily waved between his fingers. “As I did with the notable nobles and commanders of this land, I sent the man a letter informing him of the paths open to him. Only now did he see fit to send a response.”

With a flick of his wrist, the letter landed on Perenolde’s lap who snatched it up and read it quickly, then again, scowling.

“He offers neutrality and to purchase orcish slaves, gladiators or sacrifices,” Malakk’s tone grew guttural and harsh, making even those growing accustom to trolls draw back warily.

“So, uh… What would you have us do then?” Perenolde asked, tapping the letter against this hand.

“Given your past claims, I would have you kill him and take over Dunrholde Keep if at all possible.”

One could have heard a droplet of water if it had fallen, as the gathered humans tried to understand his decision.

“Did he not offer you neutrality?” Kel’Thuzad muttered, “This is hardly keeping to your word.”

“My honor goes as far as those I deal with,” Malakk said fangs clacking as he spoke. “Slave traders have no honor, wit or decency to name and thus are well outside of any promise of absolution. Guest rights are near sacred among my people but were he to invoke it none would question it if I were to fling him from the palaces peak.”

“That,” he stressed, “Is why my offer of neutrality does not extend to him, magus.”

They took a moment to absorb that fact, before Perenolde began to grin. “I believe that can be arranged, my Frost King. You mentioned the Keep as well, should I assume it will be added to our estate when the war is done?”

“You can turn it into a holiday home, tear it down to make a garden or make it into your new capital if you so choose,” he offered gamely.

“Wait,” Aliden gasped, “that is where Captain_Skarloc is stationed; he’s a good man, we were cadets together and saved each other’s lives in the Second War.”

“If he was such a dear friend, he would have joined us in exile,” Beve spat contemptuously.

“He has sent me information in the past,” Aliden said, clearly struggling for words, “I owe him.”

“Then capture him,” Malakk said dispassionately, drawing another round of stares. “So long as he is removed as a threat I care not, but Blackmoore must be brought low.” He leaned forward, idly toying with a tusk, “Durnholde would be a fine place to keep Stromgarde out of our affairs as well; so, this serves our… Strategic self interest, very well.”

Illucia coughed ever so daintily, “You speak with great passion, Frost King Malakk; but this topic does beg the question… What do you intend for the Orcs in the camps? They once near razed these lands and our people to ash.” 

Several sharp glares were directed towards the Perenoldes at that as she continued. “They lack your people’s civility and honor, but they do fight for you, and we know well you reward those who serve you well.”

Malakk leaned back in his throne, his tone was as gentle as could be, he kept his posture soft and his manner inviting. “You need not fear about sharing homes and hearth with the Orcs, wise Illucia. I know the history here is too raw for that. Instead, whatever Orcs survive the war to come shall be led onto ships and sailed to Northrend. They shall be welcomed to a place with  few claimants but much land to be worked that they might continue to serve the empire.”

The expressions across the room varied, but most ranged from what he thought to be mild shock or concern that steadily faded into amiable acceptance.

Rubbing his chin Alexi nodded, “A fair decision I say, our lands remain untouched and our followers unbloodied.”

“So, you have a cure for the bloodlust and ensuing lethargy that infests them?” Kel’thuzad asked, sounding legitimately curious, his tones for once not veiled in bitterness.

Malakk waved a hand lazily, “I am told that the magic flowing in their veins being exorcised is more likely to kill them than cure them of their bloodlust. A more drawn-out process is being discussed by some thinking it can be broken by the next generation or over a longer period of time and exposure to purification magics, but that is all theoretical.”

He lolled his head to the side, smirking, “But if you fear them becoming a threat in days or years to come, I assure you they shall not be given the chance. Their home shall be in the shadows of Zul’Drak after all and they will be watched carefully.”

Alexi spoke up next, eyes twinkling, “That matter seems settled for now, but that does beg the question of how it shall they shall be accounted for in taxation. In fact, I believe this is a matter of some importance, trade has already suffered from this war, and it shall only grow harsher. How is my family to collect taxes from the peasantry?”

Perenolde spoke up next, “Indeed, while my subordinates are working the land as usual, once we are again settled and ruling, we shall need to know what tax system you shall be following. Shall gold retain its value, will there be trade, with who and what tariffs?”

“Yes,” Kel’thuzad said his very breath like a dying sigh, “I too am curious as to your taxing system. Shall it be done with a tax collector, or perhaps something more archaic like the honor system?”

“Do not be foolish, our liege knows well enough the peasantry cannot be trusted, why do you think he has courted nobles like us and isolated the Church so effectively?” Illucia chided.

“Though the Church is a question in of itself," Alexi added. "Will they be subject to tax at last, or shall we still be paying for every stained-glass window?” 

The conversation quickly became prattling between the triad of collaborators, and Malakk had to fight awfully hard to not blink madly like some dizzied leopard.

His mind raced to catch up with the unfamiliar terms and the clear and present fact these nobles were evidently not even making mention of Contra or any other kind of work tax.

‘What have I thrown myself into?’

__________________________________________________________

Jessi Falrevere looked at the gentle waves lapping at her ship’s hull as the ‘Falrevere Fleet’ sailed South and far away from Kul’Tiras. Leaving behind them the wailing cries of Priscilla Ashvane as she cradled her defeated husbands corpse.

Magrann clapped her on the back, “Chin up Jess, this is a brand-new chapter in our lives, one of rip-roaring adventure on the high seas!” he cheered.

Jessi hummed, “We will see, father is still fuming that not everyone left with us and his plan seems… vague at best.”

“Don’t lie,” Magrann chided, “You’re still stuck on the Ashvane’s aren’t you?”

Scoffing she threw back a sip of grog, “Am I so obvious?”

“Only to me,” he said, tapping his brow.

“Do not insult me, we both know your head is empty,” she japed, slapping his side

“Ever the cruel word smith sister,” he answered, leaning against the railing, “But really, do not worry over it. They sought control of the fleet, not for us, but for themselves. We would have ended up as political pawns one way or the other.”

“Hmm, I suppose, and they did know the risks of challenging the Proudmoore’s to a duel such as that,” she thought, thinking back to the married couple’s squaring off in the ring of honor.

“Damned surprised that Katrina woman could throw such a mean right hook, I’ll say that much,” Magrann chuckled. “Still, it matters not to us, Kul’Tiras can continue their bickering ways easily enough while we,” he slapped his armor, “Get to enjoy the spoils of war that will surely flow freely in the chaos.”

“Fine, fine,” She sighed, pushing herself up, “What was the first stop on this grand adventure of ours then?”

Magrann grinned, “The sailors are having a drinking game down below, what say we drink them under the table?”

“That is a plan I can support!”

With that they raced below the deck of Devil_Shark, happy to leave the north and its war far behind them.

______________________________________________________

Mariel Morningray was once an honored diplomat of Quel’Thalas, housed within the royal palace of Lordaeron.

Now, he was a prisoner, something he had been for weeks… Maybe months, he was not sure. His memory had become a muddled blur after his capture.

All he knew was that the savages had doused him with some drought he had assumed would kill or torment him, only for it to send him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A sleep he had been jarred awake from most unceremoniously as he was guided on drowsy feet to stand before the invading trolls king. All for being party to the death of a troll he did not so much as recall!?

The doors swung open and Mariel found himself placed before a troll, monstrous even by the standards of these Drakkari. He was leaning deep into an intricately carved stone throne that thrummed with magic. His sharp features set in a sneering scowl.

“I… I am-” He began, words slurred and body still tingling from too long spent asleep.

The troll sighed, “I have had a long night, I know tomorrow shall be longer still; so I am short on patience and more on time, so do not waste what I have with your words.”

He drew an elegant letter bearing the crest of Quel’Thalas and tossed it at him. Mariel let it bounce of his chest before it fell into his hands, blinking owlishly.

“Read it,” The troll groused.

With shaking fingers, he unfurled the letter, mind racing as he absorbed its contents.

The Kingdom of Quel’Thalas has long since left the folly of the Alliance behind and thus takes no responsibility for the death of your Speaker.

Mariel neither contacted our council, nor spoke to our Sun King before casting vote. His actions are his own and the Great House of Stunstrider and the loyal retainers of the Morningray family divorce him for speaking in our nations name.

His presence in Lordaeron was no courtesy but a reflection of our desire to be rid of him, so do with him as you will. But tempt not the wrath of the Highborn, or learn our fury as your forest dwelling cousins did.

Signed, the Convocation of Silvermoon

The perfume, the shining ink, the mana radiating from the parchment, all perfect, all of home and yet…

“This… I… it cannot be real… I… They wouldn’t!”

The troll glowered down at him, “They did, and now you stand alone, responsible for the death of my friend.”

“I... I was only acting on my lords will!” His breath hitched, blood surged through his vein, terror and rage churned in his gut as tear streamed down his face, strangled, choking sobs  filling the chamber. 

A click of the troll’s fingers rang out and Mariel was lost in darkness.

Malakk rested his chin on his hand as he watched Bith’Sa catch the limp limbed elf, hoisting him up by the scruff of his robes and looking to him curiously.

“You wished only to see him unconscious, yes Frost King Malakk?”

“I did,” he answered.

“Why?” Kutube'sa ground out, glowering at the little Elf, hand on his blade.

Massaging his temples, Malakk groaned, “Because this is a new land with unfamiliar ways. I am no longer sure killing him would be justice as he may indeed be little more than a messenger. Or perhaps killing him would be justice for he acted alone to call for Malaka’raz’s death.”

He leaned back and sighed, “Or the Elves are just callous and would cast him aside. Whatever the case, I cannot gauge if any among them speak the truth or the extent of danger in openly challenging them in this moment. I know that Malaka’raz would not have wanted to see the empire fall in a quest for justice. So, for now I shall abstain from passing judgement. At least,” he assured, “Until I know more.”

His guards bowed their heads, and Bith’sa intoned, “Shall he be returned to the deep sleep with the other high priority prisoners?”

“No, he is of little threat,” he answered with a wave. “Arrange for him and the elite soldiers in the deep sleep to be moved to Gundrak, have those who pose a danger moved to the high security cells and him...”

Malakk clicked, “Have him placed in a humble guest quarter. Then inform him that his every breath is a gift from me, a gift that his liege denied him and that he is no longer of Quel’Thalas but exists only in my shadow.”

“It shall be done,” they answered as one.

“Thank you as always,” Malakk said, dismissing them with a soft salute and watching them go with distant eyes.

His solitude did not last, as De'jana slid into the room and to his side, several scrolls and scripts clasped in her hands. 

"Young scholar," He greeted, cloaking his weariness. 

The young half troll frowned and nodded, "This one is loathed to be the bearer of more bad news, but I felt it expedient to rally your woes." 

"Ah, joyful," Malakk intoned, taking the first report, eyes glazing over the contents, searching for the key words and codes while De'jana spoke. 

"New security protocols are being taken for supply vessels sailing South; the Tuskar are being most helpful I am hearing."

'Because of Naga and privateers, the latter almost certainly elves, but I have not the intelligence to determine their true origin.' He thought, sealing the scrolls shut and making a note to send a gift to the Tuskar chiefs before moving to the next. 

"Grizzlemaw tariffs continue to raise tensions, the Rageclaw say they can argue them down however," De'janna continued. 

Malakk nodded, tongue clicking in thought, 'Of course trading more favors to the South may create domestic dramatics and after a point I'll begin to just look weak. Jintha'Kalar and the Snow-Fang are already using this to be difficult about tax and trade according to my observers. I may need to send Zala'Raz home to speak for me.'

Chuckling he added, "Mayhaps we should invest in those Goblin dirigibles I have heard such good things about and sail around them?" 

De'jana bowed, "I can be sure to collect our scholars research on the matter before the morrow, Frost King Malakk."

"That would be kind of you," He intoned, taking another report and cursing himself. 

'We did not account for an occupation, that reorganization alone is costing us more than mere parchment in confusion and supply disruptions. Nor did we prepare for the new mouths to feed, the former we might manage but the latter...' He almost wanted to suggest the Rageclaw & Orcish Legions lessen their recruitment efforts, or maybe he needed more sources of meat and water? 

"The Queen Counselor's efforts have certainly helped see us through this rough patch. Still, I am thinking we should speak with Tal'Vass to make some other localized arrangements." 

'The Syndicate too perhaps? Banditry is far from honorable, but if we can hit supply lines... Or perhaps we 'should' move on Andorhol?' His mind was wondering, losing its decisive edge, never a good sign. 

Malakk only then noticed he had not been interrupted with another scroll, containing another problem to be quietly addressed.

Looking to De'jana he said, "You seem nervous." 

Lips thinned as De'jana gave him her full attention and spoke. 

The Queen Counselor has come to concern me. This one fears she may know more than she should, and could aid us more than she is." 

The words were delicately phrased, half guilty, half respectful. 

Malakk tilted his head, ears twitching, "And what makes you say this?" 

De'jana clicked her tongue and frowned, "It is hard to say, but the Queen Counselor seems well pleased these passed days, and bolder too. A quiet confidence carries her through meetings once a labor, even when the matter is dire." 

Malakk nodded, but waved the younger troll off airily, "A kind concern but fear not, young De'jana. I imagine Lianne is merely acclimating to her role and future, no longer terrified we shall force horrors upon her children or people, she is simply assuring herself the future I promised in exchange for her service." 

De'jana's frown did not abate but she bowed her head, "It is as you say, Frost King Malakk, please forgive me this one her doubts." 

"All is well, De'jana, now let us see the last missive and then we can both retire for the night." 

At the sight of it Malakk hid a grimace, 'And Still we cannot find these 'Warsong' Orcs. Bah, at least they seem to be troubling the East.' 

Letting out a low sigh, Malakk nodded to De'jana, "That will be all this night, thank you for your service." 

"It is my honor to serve your majesty," Was her answer, as she took the scrolls, old and new, then shuffled out of the chamber. 

Only when she left did Malakk allow himself to sink into his throne with an exhausted sigh, lingering there for a time before forcing himself up at the sound of his elite guards approaching. 

It would not do for any to see their liege in anything less than strong spirits after all, making for the door, familiar words echoed in his mind. 

‘Let us see what the morning brings…’