The events of the 17th of Granite, 1065
The council was in session once more, the usual members in attendance - though Glacies had chosen a seat farthest away from Aryn at the great table. Waiting patiently in the corner was Sparrow and Rolland, their hats held in their hands as they stood at attention. Sitting at the place of honor was the Diplomat Deerowl her pale face drawn, her mood clouded.
"We want to thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for coming back to visit again," Aryn said. He made wide gestures with his hands, his voice silky smooth.
Deerowl's upper lip curled briefly as she spoke, "I'm sure you're aware that we almost didn't. It's only the respect we have for you, Mr. Estetar, that we deigned to bring this years bounty to your mountain doors to perusal."
"And what a fine bounty it is indeed," Aryn agreed. From acros the table, Duke Bomrek scoffed openly.
"Fine Bounty, Aryn, have you lost your wits?" Aryn turned his gaze towards the Duke, concentrating on killing him with his mind alone but the noble pressed on with all the tact afforded to one in his position. "Miss Deerowl, you brought us three barrels of spun cloth. With all due respect, are we ... supposed to eat it? What of all the exotic animals and wood you're supposed to bring."
"Last years effrontery has soured the Elven Community, short-one," she said icily. "These act as a trial basis, a way to get back in our good graces. This small fortress is nothing to a society who has lived for centuries in their fortress homes - it's only the esteem I hold for your leader that convinces me this trek past the Red Eyes towers, through this sweltering desert, and into the desolation that used to be Elven Sanctuary. I know we don't always see eye to eye, but surely even one such as yourself can understand this. Do you have any more to add?"
The Duke mulled this over, idly stroking his beard, before he said, "Yes. We've cut down fifty trees this year."
Every eye in the room turned to stare at him. Aryn's jaw was nearly on the table, and Glacies could be seen stabbing a pencil into his own thigh, his face red with suppressed laughter. Diplomat Deerowl stood and stalked from the room and Aryn rushed after her, his pleas carrying in echos to their chamber long after he had left.
"You shouldn't have done that, Sai," Rolland's said, his voice low and even from the back.
"And, why not, chap? What harm did it do? I've cut down enough trees in my lifetime, that I can spare fifty from it for this year," the Duke said with a grin.
Rolland glanced over to Sparrow, nodding faintly at his protege. The hunter took a deep breath, and spoke, "A boltslinger should know more than just the art of war. Rolland has been giving me history lessons as well. The Elves are fearsome enemies, and have been one of the few reasons the Goblins haven't overwhelmed here, like they have to the far north, in the harsh colds where the elves don't go. At the best, we're driving away foods and goods. At the worst, we'll be assaulted by Elven Snipers."
"We do not want Elven Screamers assailing our lands," Rolland said, frowning. "Bands of them roamed in the south, carrying spears and shields. You could tell when they were near because of their screaming, and they were nigh unstoppable thanks to the Ratweed and nightshade chaw they constantly worked over dulling their pain. They would only stop screaming upon their unlikely death, or when their mouths were full of the raw meat of their victims."
The others in the room went silent, their heads drooping to look at the table, or finding a spot at the wall to stare at. It was the Hammerer that broke the silence, "As much fun as teasing the Elves is, it's better to keep them in our good graces. Keep that in mind when Aryn calms Miss Deerowl down."
A murmur of resigned agreement went through the room, raising in agreement when the duke said, "Aye, fine, but their still a pair of incorrigible asses."
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Topic: Migrursut: What Comes After The World Ends? [Epilogue] (A Community Fort) (Read 389392 times)