INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

MORZAN'S SCION

Murtagh wore clothing that was much finer than he.

A golden doublet hugged his slim chest, while black sleeves stretched down his arms. Flared cuffs, colored red, circled his wrists while black trousers found themselves on his legs. Dark blue boots were stitched closed from his knee to the tip of his foot, while a new dwarven longsword, gifted to him by the King, hung from his belt.

Before him, Nasuada stood, her back facing him. They were in a dark hallway, curving stone walls on either side of them. Stone doors sat before her, the knobs fashioned in the grimacing faces of golems.

"We should be inside." Murtagh said quietly. Nasuada paused, and Murtagh saw her hands slide away from her sides.

"This is the first time we've been alone . . . since . . ."

"It isn't like you to be late." Murtagh responded, yearning for her and yet knowing he couldn't. Nasuadon's words resurfaced in his mind, while a darker truth loomed.

I cannot be with her. For a time, I entertained the idea . . . but I cannot . . .

"Do you want me, Murtagh?" Nasuada asked suddenly, her voice shaking. Murtagh looked away from her neck, and to the stone reliefs that were scrapped upon the walls.

"Do you want me?" She asked again, turning to face him. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, those dark and beautiful eyes.

He did desire her. But what good would feelings do them? He looked away from Nasuada, his long hair falling over his eyes as he did.

Nasuada turned without a word, and approached the door. Murtagh composed himself, and followed. Light entered his view as  Nasuada pulled the doors open.

"Nasuada!" Orrin cried, rushing up to her and holding her close. She accepted the hug, and Orrin winked at Murtagh as his head rested on Nasuada's shoulder.
Before them, Several Elved stood, with Dwarven lords and human ones as well. Prince Orik, nearly as big as his father, sat in a regal-looking throne while the Dwarib King sat in his high-seat.

"A kirlai!" The King cried.
Prince Orik locked eyes with Murtagh at once, and smiled.

Orrin released Nasuada, and he retreated back to his spot in the room. There were no chairs besides the ones for the Prince and King, so they were all forced to stand around a jutting blue crystal that was found at the center of the gray-colored room. Murtagh loomed in Nasuada's shadow, as a guard, by Orrin's request. Orrin curiously took up his place with the Elves, and an attractive Elf woman inching away from him as he brushed too closely against her. One of the Dwarib, a handsome-looking one with dignified youth and grace approached Murtagh.

"Before the pleasantries begin, I would like to introduce myself. I am Vermal Nyste, and it is a pleasure to meet the one who saved our King." He bowed, taking Murtagh's hand. Murtagh pulled away from him slightly, smiling politely.

"I only did as what was expected of me." Murtagh saw Orrin frowning at him, and he smiled, but inside his own mind. On the outside, his face was emotionless, as still as a summer pool, undisturbed by mosquito or wind or falling leaf.

Vermal fell back among the dwarves.

Orrin stepped forward.

"My allies, friends, associates." He started. Murtagh heard the echo of Orrin's words shadowed in Dwarib, for the sake of the King.

"The time is nearly upon us. In a short while, we will march for the mainlands, and retake our Kingdom!" He cried, to a half-hearted response of clapping. Flustered, he paused, and continued.

"Of course, all deals will be honored." He said quickly, to more silence. The races of the world looked at him expectantly, and he was silent, groping for words. Finally, he began anew.