The Lone Call: Quill and Steel (Arc III) [First draft]

Attentions (Balkir) (S)

That same sundown. Asar, capital of House Sabri.

In its palace, despite the recent turmoil that had wrenched away his father's reign and life, another man was preparing to have supper with his family. Young he might be, and not-so-experienced in matters of rule, but like anyone else he had something to protect and keep aflame.

Balkir had so often heard about his northeastern neighbor, House Hospodia, as well as its lord's apparent virility--four offspring in a decade! One thing he was sure: House Sabri could not afford such luxury.

Balsar had only had one son with whom to continue the rule--and that son, in his turn, had only been blessed with one daughter of his own, Brista, who had gone through fourteen name days by this time.

And yet, despite the ensuing mayhem following her grandfather's demise, this daughter would not remain quiet and see to her own safety as many would have expected. She had indeed taken the trouble to snatch the father's sword and would most certainly have fought shoulder to shoulder head-on alongside the remains of Balsar's loyalists, had Tisnea--her human mother--not intervened.

'Let me go, Mom!' the girl had intoned fiercely, attempting to wriggle her sword arm free. 'I'll have them know, murderers are not to be left unchecked!'

'Bri, please,' Tisnea had pleaded in whispers. 'If you fall here, there'll be none to take the mantle. Live now, fight another day. Your grandfather's demise will be made good on... just, not today. Live.'

'Why didn't Dad do anything, then, and he still professes to be a prince?! Coward!'

'For the same reason why you shouldn't. For now we must husband our resources, not squander them. Trust me?'

The girl had gritted her teeth, her expression seething with checked rage--even her eyes had turned snake-like and glowed a crimson hue, while vengeful tears streamed down them. In the end, however, she had relented and backed away.

'Just you wait, wretches,' she had murmured darkly as she was brought to her room, there to wait out the conclusion to the mayhem--and in her case, ponder over the new realities, 'someday I will scour this land clean of your lingering stench...'

Even now, Lord Sabri surmised--five weeks after that fateful day--his daughter's rage over the event might flame anew were he to talk to her the wrong way.

Balkir looked again in the mirror, finding a tall and wiry figure with fair hair, sad-looking green eyes and an oval face with a plump jaw. He sighed.

Good thing that well-mannered Hospodian diplomat had managed to evade the dissenters' capture, sudden as it was... No, perhaps that was the most proper thing to do under the circumstances...

This being so, he could not help wondering about the 'agreement' which said diplomat had been preparing. Whatever could it contain, that assailants were rumored to have tried forcing their way into his office--and miserably failed?

***

His daughter, Balkir found to his chagrin, was still sulking as he took his seat at the head of the table--refusing as often as possible to look at him.

"Brista," he called, to be replied only by an annoyed grunt. "Come on now, dear, that's not nice. Three days is the period we are expected to remain silent with somebody else when we are displeased with them, you know that."

She looked up at him fiercely. "How then can you let your own father be so... indecently treated, and not come to his rescue? What kind of ruler would that make you, Dad?"

Balkir exhaled. "Bri--"

She held up a hand while looking away from him with closed eyes, as if thoroughly disgusted.