Strongjaw & The Dish

18

As predicted, the bells pealed, the news was spread like wildfire and a week later, the courtyard was filled with townsfolk waving sticks with blue, white, and gold ribbons as Lord and Lady de Rolo made their way to the balcony and the populace got their first look at the newest member of the family.

Everyone was smiles and cheers except for those whose tunics bore the insignia of the Pale Guard. Those faces were serious, eyes scanning for any potential trouble. On the balcony behind them, Jarrett Howarth was stationed, his dark gaze intent, watching both the crowd and the sky. He knew well enough that trouble could come from anywhere. When the weary-but-happy couple turned to go back inside, Jarett gave a motion to the Pale Guards below who, with politeness and respectful tone, began to disperse the crowd back to their lives in the city.

Trisha was making her way back, chatting with a pair of the greener recruits when she spied Jarett. The look on his face was not good.

"You two head back. You did well out there. I won't have to kick your asses after all." She shooed them as she turned from her course to meet Jarrett. "Howarth."

"Trisha." He gave a courteous bow of his head, his fingertips touching his chest as was his habit. "They've called a council meeting. Your presence is requested."

"Me?" She muttered as she fell into a quick stride at Jarrett's side, looking up at the castle, brow knit. "What do they need me for?"

The council chamber was somewhere she'd been before. Lots. Usually however she took up a spot by Lady Cassandra, out of the way but watchful. Today she saw that position was occupied by Farinok, who was a fine choice.

"Mr. Howarth. Trisha. Please, sit. What we have to say today effects you as well." Cassandra motioned to the far side of the table.

The chair taken, Trisha noted that the members of Vox Machina were also there, though seated a bit apart. A faint nod in Grog's direction, but he looked as surprised to see her as she was to be there in the first place.

"Now that everyone is here..." Cassandra sighed softly. "I call this meeting of the Whitestone Council to order. Attend, all who serve our great city, to the discourse before us." Speaking with a polite but stilted sort of echoing of proper words. "I know there has been much discussion over the appointment of the Ambassadorship to Emon. Prior to his becoming Pale Lord of Wardship, Viagan, you were a merchant of some esteem, is this correct?"

"Yes, M'lady." He nodded. "In the time before I was doing quite well for myself." He smoothed his mustache gently. "The Briarwoods' arrival destroyed that. I had been in the Pale Guard under Lord Freidrich in my youth. I sought to save what members I could, and to recruit more for the day I knew would come when the yoke of their oppression would crack."

"And in the years since, you have done exemplary work in bringing the Pale Guard back to something that can be relied upon to keep our citizens safe. You've proven you've a level head for judgements and for handling a multitude of unexpected troubles with aplomb." Percy added from his seat.

"Which is why I am offering you the job of Ambassador to Emon." Cassandra said, her hands clasped before her waist. "I will not press you to accept, but I will say I've every confidence I have chosen well."

For a few moments, the room was silent as Lord Brughur contemplated this offer. "I will accept." He glanced toward the chair occupied by The Curator of Fortune's Bounty, Arsène Lenchen. "With your aid, Madam."

"Naturally." The woman's nut-brown face crinkled as her eyes narrowed. "I'll be sending along a few of my own people to help you." Her hands folded on the table before her.

"This fills one need, but creates another." Cassandra continued. "With Lord Brughur departing and taking on his new mantle as Ambassador, a new Pale Lord of Wardship must be appointed."