Evelyn was stunned by everything that was happening.
At that meeting, no one questioned whether she was worthy or not - only whether she had the necessary skills. And from the moment she was minimally accepted, the leader of the house began to take care of her family as if they were his own.
She didn't feel adequate.
She was a sickly girl, with a defective leg, no strength and no great talents. She could barely climb a flight of stairs on her own.
Even so, despite the silent humiliation he carried in his chest, there was something new blossoming in his heart: a strange feeling of welcome and belonging.
"With that settled, please rest in the castle tonight. If you need anything, speak directly to Benta" said my father, bringing the meeting to a close.
"Sir" called a firm voice.
One of the warriors knelt down, sword pointed at the ground. It was Mr. German.
"What is it, Mr. German?"
"The Red Mountain Tribe has sent gifts. The chief wishes to meet with you" he said, with obvious tension in his voice.
The hall fell silent.
The Red Mountain Tribe was known for its brutality. Free barbarians, neighbors of the lands of House Udrak, they lived among forests and snowy peaks, beyond the reach of the Dawn Empire's authority.
Years ago, my father had made a deal with them: he taught the tribal chief's son the art of war. The boy turned out to be a rare talent - he became a Battle Master at a young age.
But he betrayed that pact a few days ago.
"Goro..." muttered my father, his eyes darkening.
Bitter memories came flooding back: the broken trust, the lost arm, the silent pain he had learned to hide.
After that day, something inside him changed forever.
But his personal feelings had to be put aside.
The truth was that the Red Mountain Tribe was vital to House Udrak's cavalry. They bred the best war horses in the region, and many of the 200 mounted men my father had been training owed their effectiveness to the animals bred in the mountains.
Cutting ties would be a blow to the military strength of our house.
But showing weakness in the face of betrayal wasn't an option either.
It was then that my father looked at me.
"What do you think?" he asked.
All ten warriors in the chamber turned their eyes to me.
I, Zaatar, heir to the house, was known for my sharp mind - and my reputation as an eccentric preceded me. Many of these men had never seen me in person, and this was their first opportunity to see if I was really worth everything they said.
They wanted to see for themselves if I could outdo their children. And, more than that, if I was worthy of the legacy I would one day inherit.
I stood up.
I wasn't the tallest or the strongest man in the room, but my black eyes carried a strange gleam - something that always made the others hesitate, even for an instant.
I removed my helmet and placed it next to the table, where a map was lying.
It was a map of the city of New Moon, with its surroundings, houses and neighboring fiefdoms clearly marked out.
"I think we need to set priorities" I began, looking at each of them. "We're overloading ourselves with too many tasks. Let's separate the functions and do them one at a time. Without overstretching our resources, without wearing out our staff"
I took a piece of wood and placed it on the area marked Mountains in the corner of the map.
"If we become enemies of that tribe, the other families will use them as pawns to increase their own power"
"Reconciliation?" asked someone behind me.
I turned and nodded.
"No. Make an appointment for a year from now. They look after our border, right? Let's lay out the problems and see how they react"
"A test of loyalty" commented one of the warriors, already understanding the move.
"Exactly" I confirmed. "Depending on how they act, we'll know how to deal with them. The barbarians have the best scouts and sentries. Just let them do what they know how to do"
My father understood my point. He didn't say anything, but I could tell by the way he stayed silent, listening while the other warriors asked questions - and I answered, one by one, patiently. My answers weren't perfect, but they carried something more important than precision: logic. Intention. Direction.
That's why he trusts me.
Most people saw decisions in black and white - accept or refuse. But I... I saw the fine line between the two.
He would have refused or accepted immediately.
I'd rather prolong it. Stretch out the game until I've extracted some advantage from it.
"The barbarians made a mistake" he said, looking at each warrior present. "If they want to reconcile, they need to show sincerity. Let's offer them choices. No immediate confrontation. Get the guests from the mountain to cook. If they accept, they'll tell us that they still know how to obey. If they refuse, we already have our answer"
My father nodded subtly, but then threw another problem at me:
"The Violets are demanding a direct answer. They want it now. What do you think?"
I smiled slightly. Most people there were annoyed when I did that, as if a smile from me meant that a game was about to start. And well... it did.
"Let's go to court first"
I pulled out the wooden board and began to position the small pieces that represented the neighboring houses. My father watched skeptically, as he always did when I proposed something outside the straight line.
"They'll demand gifts to decide which side they're on. We don't have the money to flatter any nobleman" he grumbled.
"And who says we're going to spend on nobles?" I retorted, without hiding my irritation. "The court is a game of appearances and cards. And what we need now is time, not instant victories"
My father raised an eyebrow, suspicious, as the warriors looked at each other. I continued calmly, sliding my hand over the wooden board, where figures represented the territories of the houses.
"Even if we offered them all our treasure" I said, looking directly at him. "they would still support the Violets. Because it's not gold that drives them, it's fear. They're afraid of the influence the Violet House has in the High Court. The only thing we can gain now is time. Enough time to prepare ourselves"
"I still don't understand" my father murmured. His voice had a weight to it, but also a hesitation that I rarely saw in him.
"The court communicates by letter, Father. No nobleman is going to leave his domain to come here in person. They talk from a distance, and there's a lot of bureaucracy involved. Things like who will preside over the session, what each family will offer, whether there will be a duel, and who will fight. All this takes time" I explained, moving another piece on the board. "And time is exactly what we need right now"
One of the older warriors, sitting to my father's right, nodded slowly.
"He's right. The conflict between the Genese and the Tenehir has been at a standstill for two months, and the Grevene still haven't given their opinion on the Rolsvince lands"
"Mn... true" murmured my father, resting his chin on his closed hand. His gaze was distant, thoughtful.
Benta, still visibly worried about my father, spoke in a restrained tone:
"Master Rillen still needs time to recover. We can't act in a hurry"