Cinderfall

Sable

Sable had barely been able to think of his plans with Ashford with the amount of backlogged work Sable found himself doing. He had been gone too long at the border, and the day to day dealings of the court had not paused in his absence.

Tensions with the north had been on the rise, causing fretful meetings with delegates of foreign and local dignitaries. It seemed that anyone with a little money, a title, and an ego more inflated than the kitchen bellows was able to address the court and voice their concerns. They would make frightful accusations with their noses pointed high and demanded to know what the crown would do to ease their sorrows.

Not one of these noblemen ever volunteered their own services of course. They could howl about oncoming war and strife all they wanted, but what have they done themselves to help their people? how could they expect the kingdom to protect them without any men to do the defending? It was a good thing that they weren't at war yet. right now there was no need for conscription. Not that any of these noblemen would make a useful soldier either. He wondered briefly if half those men had ever even held a knife for a purpose other than cutting up the rest day 's roast. He doubted they had even done that.

These meetings may be ridiculous, but they set the tone for how their neighboring nations were faring. Fear was sweeping along the continent in a way Sable had never seen before. People, even the selfish delegates were scared and looking for someone to shield them. Sable could only be glad it hadn't spread so far as the capitol so far. It was a slight kind of security, and he knew it was fleeting.

After a meeting with an exceedingly difficult gentleman, Baron something or other from a place of 'considerable' distance who somehow decided to blame the death of his crops on the government, Sable decided to retire to the library.

The baron had lived in the northeast, close to the border but far enough away where Sable had known there were no troops near the man's fields. The baron was red-faced with a red shiny cloak and an over-waxed ginger mustache, and somehow had the tenacity to claim that a sudden winter frost had touched his and only his fields, causing them to somehow immediately whither to nothing.

First, even though it was early into the season, it was autumn, a sudden winter frost might be harsh on a man's livelihood, but not altogether unlikely, and second... Sable frowned at the thought. How was this a fault of the crown? Sure he had said that the farmer had seen wispy forms of soldiers through the fog that night, but the man's complaint was not that his crops had been trampled on, but had frozen. Not only were the crown's soldiers not in that area, but how on earth could they control the weather? Clearly the man had not been in his right mind, but the idea of soldiers there was worrisome.

Thus, the library. Sable had never been fond of poetry or silly love stories, but maps he could do, and history. Luckily enough, these were the things he was searching for today. In particular, Sable was searching for old maps, dusty land surveys of the northern farmland, old building plans from that area, especially if they were never finished, cultural histories that may speak of any old paths and hideouts long forgotten.

He already had studied plenty of the current plans of the area, but, as unlikely as it probably was, what if there were men travelling that far east? They wouldn't be his men. There shouldn't be anything there worth going toward, and there was a station for troops south of there, so it wouldn't make sense as an ambush point either. It was true that the people in the north had been suffering from diminished food supplies on an increasing scale for years now, but it didn't sound as if the field had been intentionally looted or razed.

Sable ran a hand through his black hair, ruffling it in a way that would not have been proper for a prince in a public setting. Sable could not have cared less. The library was the largest in three countries, with high vaulted cream ceilings and panes of colored glass acting as skylights. They were strategically placed so that depending on the time of day, a reflected depiction of some historic point of the country would be seen on the circular stone clearing in the direct center of the building. The library was four floors and from any sitting place this depiction could easily be seen. The silvery shine of the reflected ash trees and flickers of orange and crimson light told him that it was mid-afternoon, around two portraits before he would need to leave for dinner. Enough time for at least a cursory search.