Who: Alistair and Ephrem Westerveldt
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: Swords Castle, Alistair's private quarters
What: Alistair and his son have a conversation.

Alistair paced his room as he flicked cards from all around. His mind was wandering, plotting, pondering what to do as he absentmindedly flicked, flicked, ( flicked )

Who: Faiz and Tarven
When: Wednesday afternoon
Where: Outside the blacksmith, Pentacles city
What: They talk religion and demonstrate moral obligations

"The Mumtaz asked after you," Faiz grinned wickedly and sat delicately astride the fence outside the blacksmith. "She said she's never seen you take revelation, not once."

Tarven groaned. If the Mumtaz had noticed he'd not been taking revelation at the monastery, then the Ayatollah would probably have noticed too, and then he'd be dragged in with the transgressors for punishment. "I shouldn't have to take revelation if I haven't anything to reveal." He scowled and laid another rod in the furnace.

The blonde slave's grin grew wider still. "Is that so? What about Meriam from the dairy farm?"

"What about her?" With all the work her master put her through, Tarven did wonder how Faiz managed to find so much time to gossip.

"She swears up and down you and she made temptation just this Monday! Honestly, I was a little offended. She's very plain you know; and I'm local."

"What?!" He dropped the rod he was moving in the furnace, too deep to pull out while the fire raged. "I did never! That girl's a liar. And you owe me a length of iron."

Faiz laughed loudly; the eastern lilt to her voice distinct above the city noise. "Aye, you can give me a length and we'll call it even."

"You peddle filth just as much as your master, Faiz."

She shrugged, indifferent to the accusation. "If it buys my freedom." She shifted off the fence with deceptive grace as he moved to shove her out of the way, handing him the enormous leather glove he was reaching for as she did so. "You're going to put your hand in the fire?"

"Sooner the fire than your master's purse," he muttered. A flash burn was nothing compared to the lashing Faiz would get if he did demand a replacement of her.

She did not respond, instead bunching up the hem of her dress and soaking it in the trough by the furnace; ready to tear off strips for bandages should he come out of it with a burn. He was one of the only other people in the town to treat her as a person; any other would have simply demanded resitution for the lost metal even knowing that it would earn her a savage beating, if not worse. But she supposed that's why she and Tarven were friends; because he'd put his hand in the fire for her, and were she ever in the position to do the same, she would.

Who: King Varvenis Westerveldt and Princess Maricosa Westerveldt
When: Saturday morning
Where: Throne Hall, Pentacleon Castle
What: Mari bends her father's ear

King Varvenis had been having this argument with his daughter Maricosa for three years now, and she was most definitely wearing down his patience.

“Daddy!” She stamped her foot impatiently. “You must let me debut this year!”

“Mari,” he said evenly. “You are only fifteen.”

“I am fifteen,” she continued, her voice pitching to a whine. “I will be an old spinster soon!”

The King sighed, and patted the arm of his chair. Mari threw herself onto it and continued begging. “Please Daddy. I should like to have a suitor before it is too late! Finny will never marry, and Ebi’s for Temperance now. Don’t you want any ancestors?”

( “Descendants”, he corrected her absent-mindedly... )

Dearest sister,
I hope this letter finds you well. I write that I may ask a favor of you. My dear Maricosa has yet again expressed her wish to be married and has charged me with the task of finding her an acceptable suitor. I cannot think of any young man in the empire I would sooner trust with my daughter's hand that that of your son Liam. Bariah is of course completely opposed to the idea, but I feel in this instance that my wisdom far exceeds hers. Please think favorably upon my request, for Mari's sake.

Yours, Varvenis


Dearest Varvenis,

I think your proposal is a good one. You have always been wise of character my brother and I trust your judgment. Liam is a most excellent match for your Mari and I know he would take good care of her. The two of them could be insured a very bright future if they get married. I think it may be best if we have a meeting in person before we set anything in motion.

Yours, Elizabeth


Dearest Elizabeth,

You are as always the voice of reason. I will have a traveling party prepared to set off immediately, and we shall make all haste to Swords on the morrow. Mari will be most excited to see you-- and, of course, her bethrothed.

Yours, Varvenis

Who: King Varvenis Westerveldt of Pentacles, Princess Maricosa Westerveldt of Pentacles, Queen Elizabeth of Swords and Prince Liam of Swords
When: Thursday morning
Where: Swords Castle
What: A marriage is arranged

The conversation had been a short and tense one. Liam had seen something like this coming for years. Elizabeth had informed Liam that his Uncle Varvenis was coming with Maricosa and they were to discuss a possible marriage arrangement. Elizabeth told Liam that she would give him as much time to come to terms with it, but it was basically finalized. "Why do you do this to me mother?" Liam asked holding his head in his hands. "All I want to do is read my books and travel."

"Sometimes my dear son we must make sacrifices to ensure a brighter future. And we must all do things we don't want to do to ensure the suffering of our enemies," Elizabeth said simply.

( “What enemies?” )