He sat at the highest chair of the oak table, its legs planted firm on the stony floor of the chamber, the same chamber where only a week ago the Crown and the lords had argued themselves hoarse over the matter of the royal announcement.
Now the Prince of Yarzat had brought them something more than words, finally he was proud toa announce the written form of his proposal for the mass admission of noble sons into the officer corps of the White Army.
It was not a task for faint shoulders. He was forced to balance between poles that pulled in opposite directions: his own pure stock, the pillars of Yarzat's throne, which must not be diluted by parasites gnawing at the marrow, and the parasites themselves, lords , who demanded their own cut of flesh in exchange for what they surrendered.
Every matter was both leash and dagger.
