Why is her eye that color? Ivory pondered, head resting curtly on the top of her clenched fist. This was the accurate posture required for such a thing.
One should never show weakness before another. Such things, as history has taught, have a tendency of awakening the greed within the hearts of men. They would smell the fragility and would quickly nibble at the heels of their master.
The Blackwater Clan and Wane had followed such paths.
Ivory nearly gritted her teeth at the thoughts, sealing them instead for a much-needed glimpse at this woman kneeling within her hall.
A strangeness in its own right, given that BrightCrowns had quite the enormity of pride to easily bow to another. Perhaps it was the precarious state of her life. Argent, without doubt, would require her death if he were ever to learn of this moment.
Nonetheless, Ardella Wane was quite a tall figure; even when she knelt, head bowed, her length could not be overlooked. That, and the black hair that flowed downwards towards the center of her back. Not a single strand of white was present in those locks. And her face—a thing that was uncommon in Valor—was oval. She was clothed in a black dress, metal chains dangling and tied around her waist.
What manner of fashion was that? Ivory wondered, still internally debating the oddity of the eye color.
According to the data acquired from a deadEye during her walk towards the Grand Hall, she had learned the so-called daughter of Wane had a rather piercing blue eye. A linkage that likely connected her birth mother to either the Stormlands of the vileStorm clan or the HighHammer plains of the Honor Clan. Regardless, she was without those markers.
What did that mean? Was the data obtained by the deadEyes wrong? Or did she, by some means, alter the shade of her eyes?
Very likely, Ivory realized. Given that special dyes used by the Fools clan in their many jests and games came in a variety of colors. Of course, she could still be a member of the Fool's clan, given that certain members in those lands had the grayer shades of eye color.
So which was which? Ivory observed the woman. Was she changing her eyes by some means, or was the report some falsehood? The lack of data was annoying.
No point wasting time in meaningless yap.
"Raise your head..." Ivory commanded, taking that colder tone present in every word or action of Mother. They had their uses.
Ardella heeded the spoken words, slowly but surely rearing her head off the black floors. Their gazes met for a moment.
Ivory froze.
Then the sensation was gone.
What was that? She leaned forward. It felt like, for a moment, as Ardella's head was raised, her features had twisted into another. A smiling face. A mocking visage.
Did I imagine that?
Ardella spoke suddenly. "Greetings to the highHeir, Regent Highness to the Valor Clan, Ivory Valor… Great blessings to you."
Pleading with religion?
"Halo," Ivory responded, reclining back on the seat. That momentary spasm of motion could not be allowed to happen again. It would reveal too much. After all, although she was yet to confirm this, Ivory sensed a certain intelligence behind those cold grey eyes. An intellect far beyond a normal human… at least, at the level of that of a caster.
If she were, her order would be learned before any other interactions would continue. Even with her own status, the danger of a caster was tremendous, especially if they belonged to an Order like that of a silverAssurer… Ivory paused at that thought. Heid was a silverAssurer!
Ardella coughed out again, standing now, with both hands clutched around a small black flute.
She plays? Or is that some weapon—a sacred Relic?
Ivory smiled. "The Wanes are not known to play music."
Ardella spared a glance at the pipe. "See how well you fare in a soundless prison," she said. "Such little things we do for our enemies is what separates us from them. It is something of a sweet lie told to those who mean to harm us."
"A nice use of a collective," Ivory responded. "Almost like you have assumed I am to accept whatever offer it is you have brought before me."
There was silence for a moment—a tense one. Then, softly, Ardella caressed the form of the flute, fingers digging on both sides of the air hole. Almost like she was cleaning it. She said next, "When a logical judgment is presented, any who refuses to accept it is simply forfeiting the right to call themselves logical."
"You mock me?"
"Are you not logical?"
Ivory sharpened her gaze. "Strange, isn't it, that for someone like you, a mere BrightCrown, you speak such words to me."
"I am being straight with you, your Grace," she chimed simply. "What's the point of platitudes that lack a true meaning? Why not settle for the useful sharpness?"
"And that is you?"
Ardella sighed. "My brother is a fool," she said. "But the nobles of Wane have loyalty to him out of respect for the former Lord of Wane. They believe in this army stashed somewhere in the Free Cities."
"You don't?"
Ardella wiped the top layer of the flute. "The only army worthy of note in the Free Cities is the Ravens of the House of Black, but those are hardly a true army. So whatever 'army' it is my brother has gone for would certainly fail before the might of a Great Clan."
Odd.
"Maybe alone," Ivory interjected. "But you are not alone. You have your alliances to make. Surely, there are many vassal clans willing to join your cause. The Blackwater clan for one, and whoever else you choose to trap within."
"That seems like a judgment rooted in paranoia."
"Not when it's the truth."
"And these words of yours, I suppose, are fueled by the lack of fealty to your rule."
"For now." Ivory grinned. Let her see my madness.
Ardella chuckled.
Ivory froze. The abruptness was concerning.
What? Is she mocking me?
Ardella went silent instantly, rubbing her fingers across the bridge of her lips. "My apologies, your Grace, but for a clan on the verge of civil war, your Highness Regent seems to be very keen on it." She took a step. "Tell me, what exactly would that gain you?"
"Power."
"Incorrect." She said, "What you will gain is fear."
"Good enough."
Ardella tapped her flute on her palm. "Tell me, your Grace, an instance when fear has ever lasted."
Ivory was choked on her words… By the lords, she hated that. Somehow, this woman was speaking in a heightened cognitive manner. Without a doubt, she was a caster. But this…
Ardella interrupted the trail of thought. "Can't you?" Yet another step was taken, eyes piercing into Ivory. "There is none. There is no moment in history where fear was the lasting solution."
Ivory attempted mockery. "And I suppose that you have some alternative." She scoffed. "Perhaps I bow and even bed some of the vassal clans in exchange for their support."
The daughter of Wane paused in her tracks.
Ivory smiled within… I was right, this one too is nothing but weak, like the beasts called me—
"What mistsense is that?" Ardella cocked her head, tapping her flute harder on her palm. "Do make it a habit of listening to the spoken words before the formulation of stupid impressions."
Is she insulting me? Ivory was stunned.
Ardella walked yet another step, inches now before the three-step stage that led onto the sealSeat. Not many outside the seatGuards had ever been that close to the throne. This woman was an oddity.
"Listen now, your Grace." She raised the flute. "Fear is not a lasting solution, yes… but it is sure to be a starter. A beginner for the peace that is to come."
Ivory smiled.
Ardella maintained her coldness. "So what sudden violence and fear would be better than backing an illegitimate child, and more so, a woman?"
Ivory leaned back on her seat.
Ardella said, "Those nobles would want a man they can so easily control, and even if Argent were to return with an army, most likely the Theocracy would attempt to stop it, no doubt gaining more power for themselves. But do you know what? So do the nobles, who can now without doubt point at you and whisper… and mock: 'That one, yes, that one is the weak princess.'"
Ivory's fingers clenched.
And one more step was taken by the daughter of Wane. And now she stood before her, staring down at the Regent of Valor.
If anyone were to see this, they would drown themselves in countless rumors. Ivory was sure of it… That, and something else: this woman was dangerous.
And she wanted her!
But first. "Get down or lose your legs!"
Ardella maintained her stillness for a moment, then took a step backward. "My apologies, your Grace… I often forget."
"You often forget your place," Ivory said. "It's quite obvious, the thing you want… Yes, to be close to me. And not just as some vassal lady. No, you want more. You're quite ambitious for a bastard."
"The bastard of Wane can only seek to trap the best."
"Except I am High Regent," Ivory said. "And you cannot tame me."