Pressing onward, they enter a vaulted hallway, it's ceiling arched high above like the ribs of a colossal beast. The stone underfoot is worn smooth by countless footsteps long passed. Along the walls hangs shields emblazoned with the prince's crest—a silver bident.
Midway down the hall, a narrow spiral staircase beckons, it's steps winding upward in a tight coil.
They Ascend carefully, as they emerge into a spacious chamber bathed in the golden glow of afternoon light filtering through stained glass windows. This is the strategy room, where maps of distant lands lay sprawled across heavy oak tables, dotted with miniature banners and carved figurines representing armies and fortresses. A low murmur of voices and the scratch of quills fills the air. In continuance, there is a short corridor that leads to a pair of massive iron doors, reinforced with rivets and etched with intricate patterns of a sunburst.
They arrive at it's front.
"Please, allow me, Princess".
Dorran opens the door with a practiced ease. The air grows cooler, it's charged with an unspoken authority.
"... Completely" a man clad in dark grey garments that seems to absorb the surrounding light stops his report as he turns. His face reveals a striking contrast: his black hair is streaked with defiant strands of grey, it frames sharp features hardened by years. His brown eyes, cold and contemptuous. There is an unmistakable arrogance in his gaze, as he takes in the sight that is Dorran Godbourne. His expression is one of narcissistic resolve.
"Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Godbourne" OrghanHodeius says, his grey cape swaying slightly.
Dorran is about to give a reply when...
"Dorran!" A fat pale man says, his voice filled with familiarity.
The lord and princess walk in side by side.
The prince's office is a grand chamber, both austere and commanding. Walls of dark stone are lined with weapon racks displaying finely crafted blades, axes, and a polished shield emblazoned with the royal insignia. A large desk carved from blackwood stands at the center, cluttered with scrolls, battle plans, and a single, ornate helmet resting atop a crimson velvet cloth. Behind the desk, a man seats on a high-backed chair, it's leather worn but regal. He's facing the bright display of a wide window that stretches almost the entire room and overlooks the training grounds. Seven men are in the room with him, all standing. A discomfort of respect.
"Lord Sentar" the pluran liege says summoning a smile. The lords that are gathered around the prince are heads of powerful, once royal, and old families. All lieges in the empire over their once sovereign kingdoms.
"Please, I tell ya this man is always a mask of formality no matter how much I tell him to call me by my name"
"A bloody whore?" The room bursts out in hard laughter.
"Oh, um—my apologies, princess" lordOmarDamer apologies genuinely.
The princess nods with a gentle smile.
"Enough of this foolery, we're in the presence of his grace" LordOrghanpointsout.
The room silences. Lord Dorran and the princess get in the curved line the lords stand by.
"As we were..." Orghan continues "...Your grace, lastly the combined efforts of Maen and Lyvon has seen the near end of the ice raiders, their leader, the power-stripped baron of Lowmont was slain in the battle of 'Traitor's Triumph'"
"What!, I thought we won that one." The old lord of Bandville states.
Orghan sighs "It's a jape, formed by the maenish after their over whelming victory against the ice raiders."
"Ooohhh, clever "
Orghan clears his throat "...The North is liberated!"
The lords and the princess clap softly, smiles slash their faces.
"...But the damage the ice raiders has inflicted upon it's lands and people will be repaired at no small cost, lord Dorran?"
Dorran clears his throat "I and lord Sen—Alwyn have detailed down all the costs" He begins to recite from memory "The cities of; Ryjin, Genareed, Edmark, Rink, Lurwood, Khaffield, and Old-rise lay destroyed, burned to the ground. It's populous sold into slavery and it's nobility... raped, and sold into slavery. A quarter of said nobles relatives have made sizeable donations to inquire their safe return from the Colonies. Another issue is the wide spread famine engulfing the north, though the liege families of Abulon, Waltan, and Demuné have been reinstated. The kingdoms are impoverished, famine sweeps it's lands. It would seem before the Ice-baron's defeat he spirited away great fortunes. Your grace, I would recommend an immediate military occupation. The North may be "liberated" and their liege families may be loyal, but they do not have the strength to stop a rebellion if it starts".
Lord Orghan scoffs "A rebellion?, Godbourne, you believe the Abuloni or Waltanians powerful enough to defy empire?. If they dare their uprising will be as short as their lives".
Lords nod in agreement.
"You state that the empire is strong enough to smash the rebellion of these now weakened kingdoms, but I do not doubt that. I propose an occupation not to end rebellion but to deter it. The costs of the war with the ice raiders are immense, the Ashlord's victory (Traitor's Triumph), if it can be called that, was achieved at a great price."
"The Duke is still a member of the imperial family, Godbourne" the ever loyal Lord Ethan Clorgan snarls.
"I meant no disrespect of course" he bows his head apologetically.
"The matter still stands,..." Orghan continues without care "... Do you think that the costs to feed, pay, and supply an occupying army would be cheaper?. A rebellion remains probability, but occupying these countries would strain our coffers, greatly."
"Lord Orghan speaks true" the princess adds, she's now seated near her uncle.
Dorran smiles, but anger's in his eyes "of course, princess. I'm only here to give honest council, the decision falls to his grace" Dorran's eyes shifts from the princess to the prince, silence is his answer.
"Well, I'd say that settles that" says lordFrayman.
"Indeed, there shall be no occupation." Lord Omar says.
The meeting continues for several hours, until all matters are settled. With bows they begin to leave the office.
"Stay, Godbourne" Prince Borrad speaks, his voice low with a silent rumble.
"And me, uncle?" The princess asks.
"Leave us, Kethuen"
She bows and leaves.
The room is silent,but Borrad breaks it.
" 'As Pure As Light', these are the words of my house".