OathBlade (Wattys2015)

7. The Formal Dance of Politics*

Duke Erwell trailed moments behind a servant who walked in with a silver-trimmed gold platter in his hands to deliver morsels of 'entertainment food' and three tea cups. An ornate kettle sat at the center of the platter, steam rising from the curved spout to fill the room with the scent of delicate orchiberry tea.

He was a large man by comparison to the slender young servant just in front of him. The servant moved out of his way, allowing him to approach the table. The duke tugged at his embroidered dress shirt to knock free tiny feathers left behind by his carrier birds. They fluttered to the floor, drifting on slight whispers of air stirred by nothing more than his movement.

Elery stood and placed her fist against her chest. "Well met, Duke Erwell."

"Well met, Princess." He returned the salute. "I offer my condolences for the tragedy your kingdom has suffered. May they find peace beyond this world."

"Thank you. My father spoke highly of you. He considered you among his greatest allies. I thank you for your gift, as well. The dress was lovely. I only wish..." She rubbed her bondmark and her throat clenched. "Forgive me," she said as her thin brows pinched together.

"You needn't ask forgiveness. The loss of a bondmate is one I know quite well." He raised his sleeve to show his own mark, a black coil that reached around his hand to end at his middle finger. "I feel your grief, M'lady, and again offer my sympathy."

The servant set the platter on the table and both Elery and Cylphi walked over, taking a seat with the Duke as food was portioned out. Small sandwiches made with various delicacies, fruits and berries, and a skewer of roasted vegetables adorned each plate. Though she'd only just ate breakfast her stomach rumbled. She took her plate with a grateful nod and a smile.

"I must admit, the message I received was quite vague." Erwell rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, pressing them against his mouth to cover the lower portion of his face. His gray mustache poked out behind his fists. The tips twitched as he spoke. "I sincerely wish to help you, Princess. If possible."

The last of the food was served and Elery picked up one of the sandwiches. She bit into it as her gaze met his wizened cobalt eyes. She chewed, swallowed, then picked up the tea after the clear violet liquid was poured into the fine yellow and silver cup. Each movement was made slowly, deliberately, to allow a moment of silence to stretch between them. Her impatience could not be allowed to show in hastily-spoken words. For that reason she went to great lengths to draw out the silence, filling it with falsely-patient tasks before she spoke again. "That's good to know, because I intend to ask for help on two fronts."

The tips of his mustache angled downward briefly before he pulled his hands from his mouth and sat back to begin eating. "Please." He gestured with a slight twitch of his finger. "Continue."

"I request that aid be sent to Lyewryn to begin repairing the damage done by the Bethgardel army." She picked chunks of brightly colored, roasted vegetable from the skewer piece by piece, eating with far more decorum than she'd displayed at the tavern. "One thousand soldiers, if they can be spared. More than half of our forces were slaughtered before they retreated."

"A reasonable number to request," he said. He took a sip of his tea, then set the cup down with a gentle clink against the saucer. "I will donate supplies as needed as well. We will keep the bridges under tight security until the restoration process is complete."

"Your generosity humbles me."

"Unfortunately, I cannot say this attack surprises me. The kingdom of Bethgardel hides tucked within the mountain ranges of the east, while Lyewryn is cradled by Leria's most abundant source of clean water. You hold ground on a valuable resource."