The Gos Parchment Chapter 3

In the majestic city of Corobo,  the snowing has stopped, leaving the city a mass of powdery white, but all the snow paled to a grand marble structure in it's centre, the parliament building, gleaming in the mid-afternoon light. Within one of its meeting halls, a group of counsellors and advocates met to decide their actions in the coming war.

"We simply do not have the resources left to fight the Drow and their legions." a counsellor said, causing the man gazing out a window to tune back into the conversation, the logistical speeches finally sifted through.

He rubbed his greying stubble thoughtfully, feeling a twinge from his latest scar on his neck, trying to remember where in the discussion he had drifted off. He slowly walked back to his seat with the counsellors, drawing a few curious looks from the crowd.

"I agree, it is an inescapable truth; we either surrender, or fall to the Drow."

"Now, let's not rationalize it like that! What of the Coronan folk? Will they not help?"

"They prefer to scout and 'borrow' some of our soldiers for their 'spellswords'."

"Bah! Spellswords are no more than a myth!"

"I'll have you know that they are not!"

"Gentlemen, please do not get off-topic here, we need-"

The lobby suddenly broke out into a clamour of voices, each advocate screaming their opinion into the air.

"Silence!" a loud voice roared above the din. It took some time, with several of the counsellors and  advocates still spitting choice words at each other for quite a while after being instructed to quieten down.

When everyone had settled and returned to their seats, a lone figure was left standing. He was an ageing man, his salt-and pepper hair and stubble spoke volumes about that, and the way he held himself showed that he was familiar with both the parliament and battle. The various scars running up and across his arms, with a nasty one on the side of his neck, showed that he had seen the worst that the drow could throw (Well, the worst that you can see and still survive survive).

"We need..." he continued, scanning the room to make sure he had everyones attention, "to put our thoughts to action. I believe we should send an emissary to the elves, for the their alliance will be invaluable."

"We are stronger than such a pitiful request to a pitiful people." another counsellor retorted.

"Do not underestimate our Coronan friends, so far they have held the Drow at bay. You know what the Elders say; if you are strong, allies make you stronger, and, Heavens forbid, we need allies."

"You forget yourself, Counsellor Ain, What of Calenost? A whole continent that has been swallowed up by the Drow Legion." the man continued, establishing himself as Ain's opposition.

"Calenost has always been common ground, both the Coronans and the Drow shared that continent. Conflict was inevitable. Besides, we all know what lies beyond the Great Southern Sea." Ain said, leaving the word they all knew palpable in the air.

"Horde." someone in the crowd answered, drawing murmurs of  agreement from all across the lobby.

"Is it true? Have they joined the Drow?" a concerned advocate asked his neighbour, a bit too loudly.

"Not all of them, I-"the first man began.

"We have not received any official evidence on that topic, and our embassy within the Hive still stands, as a testament to that fact." Ain cut off the man, to stop the meeting from going off topic again.

"Aye, that is true, but we only have an embassy with Sthlasara's Hive, and there are more, many more in the desert of Ieool."

"Could we possibly get her help?" someone suggested meekly.

Ain's opposition burst out laughing, "Help...from one...of the Horde!?" he said between chuckles, that no-one else shared, "Do you have any idea how long it took for communications with Sthlasara to be civil? Two hundred years, and she was one of the nicer Queens."

"It might just have to be an option, that's what we're here for Veneir; options." Ain responded.

"Those...bugs won't listen to a request like that, you'll get no help, it's suicidal." Veneir replied.

"As I said; options." Ain repeated.

"I heard you the first time. Still, I see no reason to be this desperate, the Drow are not even attacking." Veneir chortled.

"Our scouts report that the Drow Legion have mobilized for an attack on Mulyn."

The meeting room was incredibly silent for a few tense moments as everyone digested this news.

"Bah! You mean to say that they will attack our capitol? It is the most heavily defended city we have. And their 'Legion' consists mostly of fodder, nothing to be worried about."

"It is not the fodder that needs to be worried about, it is what follows, the Drow soldiers, their magi, and those they have recruited."

"Who have they recruited? The Necromancers of The Watching Isles? The Horde of Ieool? The Orcs of Eastern Sakasaraka? All stories, meant to wear us down. Has anybody seen any evidence of any of the above among the Drow?"

"It is best to be wary."

"Then be wary on your own time. What we need is more recruits for our army."

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. There are no more men to recruit. We have sent many blindly to their doom, you think that throwing more men at the enemy will solve this? No, I have been to the battlefield, Veneir, I do not expect you to understand. Just because you are the crown-"

"That's exactly it, Ain," Veneir cut in, " I am the crown prince, me being here was nothing more than 'training' as my father put it, to be the best counsellor's opposition. So you had better remember your position in comparasion to mine."

"Regardless of your position, what I said still stands; there is no one left, we have limited resources and manpower. We need allies." Ain said after another quiet pause.

The large door at the end of the room thudded open, awakening several of the advocates who had fallen asleep. A small but elaborately armoured escort entered, standing at the ready as the regent swaggered into the room.

"Son!" the King proudly exclaimed, "I hope you are not bothering my old friend Ain too much?" he continued, clasping arms with his son.

"Not at all father." Veneir said, looking directly at Ain, "Just studying."

"Well, how's my boy doing Counsellor? I hope he is not giving you a hard time."

"Not at all." Ain responded simply, flashing a quick complementary grin at the king.

"Now, now. What has happened to your neck my friend?"

"This is not really the place to be discussing that." Ain said, gesturing to the now quiet audience, timid now that the king was here.

"Ah, I see. Well, you can visit me later and we can discuss some other pleasantries with a bottle of vintage sherry?"

"Perhaps, sir." Ain said, perking up at the mention of sherry.

"It is a rare brand, from before the unification of the Coronan Elves, heady stuff. I suppose back before they were all soft they were a vicious bunch, hey?" the King described, nudging Ain.

"Well now you've got me interested..." Ain said, smiling truly now.

"All the better then! Let us leave Veneir." the king laughed, waving for his son to follow him.

"Counsellor Ain," Veneir began, "I will leave it up to you to decide what to do, I have hindered your progress for long enough today. Aiena, moreshen." Veneir continued, startling Ain with elvish, but the princes eyes were a mockery to his formality, his real feelings easily seen through those windows into the soul.

"Good lad, is he not?"

"Yes-sir." Ain smiled, a bit more tightly.

"Farewell to you as well counsellors, don't think I'd forget you." the king waved, leading his son out the doors, the entourage following suit.

All was quiet once again, the only sound that could be heard was the flapping of the curtains as a stiff All-Hallows wind picked up.

The rest of the discussion was less heated, losing Ain's interest with talk of housing adjustments and the privy commerce of merchants, Ain stepped back to his customary spot by the window, and surveyed the winter-scape of the city once again, this time thinking of his meeting with the king. Or more importantly, the sherry, his favourite drink.

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