--Isla had hoped that she would leave the tray at her master’s quarters, and that this wretched day would finally come to an end. And at first, it seemed as though this would be the case. Upon hearing her knock, her master invited her in. Mr Fliss’ quarters were perhaps not as elaborate as one might expect, for a nobleman of such high stature. Stone quarters, and few decorations adorning the walls. A fireplace with two armchairs in front, on the far right of the room. Three deer heads, which were hunting trophies, bear furs adorning the floor and the walls, and a sizeable bed with a baldachin, in the center of the room. There was also a large, but humble, wooden writing desk; left of the bed, in between two tall windows. It held an intricate candlestick bearing his family’s crest, a tray with a tea kettle and three cups, a bottle of ink with a feather in it, and neatly organized scrolls of paper. Mr Fliss liked to keep a tight grip on his affairs, and would entertain them until the very precipice of sleep. Tonight appeared to be no different. David Fliss was standing by the window, while his scribe was seated at the writing table, a blank piece of paper, waiting to be stained with ink, in front of him.

-Isla, stay.

--The night wasn’t over yet.

-I have to talk to you about something.

-Yes, sire? – Isla turned back from the door, towards Mr Fliss, and bowed, offering him an inquisitive look.

-I am making up a will, and I would like you to be my witness.

-Me… A will, sire? Why? And why me?

-Indeed, why… Perhaps I’m just a fool to believe that something like that still exists in this world, but I’ve come to think that you are a person of principle. And even if you were not, I will give you a reason to keep my trust.

--David turned away from the window abruptly. He walked over to Isla, took her hand, and led her to the writing table, offering her tea with a hand gesture. She was hardly interested in it, but knew her manners well enough not to say no. She took up a cup and sipped from it, then immediately put it back down, all the while looking sternly at David, waiting for him to continue with what he had to say. He was in his forties, still a decent number of years away from a natural death, and was yet to explain his sudden memento mori.

-Earlier today, I have arranged for your mother to be transferred to a humble estate of my choosing. However, I am aware of her bad health and have arranged for someone to take care of her; during her stay there. – He spoke calmly, slowly.

-What… why was I not informed of this sooner?

-Because, this way, there is a reason for you to keep my trust. Beyond whatever principles your youthful mind may hold close to heart. – His eyes seemed to sharpen as they explored Isla’s, and as he experienced the joy of spinning his web. He then turned back to the window, and began to speak quicker, with a gale. – Scribe, write this down: “I leave all of my estates to my son Rami, except for the house in Isca. One half of...”

-So, you are essentially blackmailing me, with my mother as a hostage? – She tried to interrupt him, but he continued unfazed.

-“…One half of my wealth is to be made his, as well. The Isca house, as well as the bond staking claim to the sum of ten thousand gold, which I have stored in Wurzan, is to be handed to Angelique. The rest is to be distributed in even parts amongst my brothers and sisters. I have two conditions. One: That no harm shall come to Angelique. Some of you may hold a grudge over the propriety of her relationship with me, but I simply was not the kind of man who would grow old a lonely widower. And the second condition… We have not treated each other with much love during my lifetime. But we have always been allies. The same is to remain true after I am gone. And whomever breaks these conditions, shall be denied any stake at my wealth, or property.”

--David was done with his dictation, and visibly distressed. Staring at his feet, he contemplated the possibility of his early demise. He then turned towards Isla to dismiss her, expecting to see her shaken as well, but he was instead startled when he met her furious gaze. Her fists were clutched and she had had just about enough of today.

-No, Isla! Do not be angry with me. Please forgive the crudeness of my manner. I am beset by enemies on all sides and could not afford to go by trust alone.

-Where is my mother?

-What if one of them had gotten to her before me? Don’t you see? It is better for both of us this way. – He pleaded.

-Is that what you tell yourself, so you can feel like taking someone away is morally sound?

-Please. It has been a long day and I must have some rest now. But do not worry. My son knows where she is, and she is well provided for. You try to make it out as though I am the villain here, but trust me. I wish no harm to her, or to you.

--Isla’s anger subsided. She had considered her master’s words. Indeed, he would have no motive to cause harm to either of them. Being treated so rudely was still aggravating, but she did not see a way out of this position at the moment. Further words would be a waste of time, and potentially create a rift between her and her master. She and the scribe left his quarters, and she was headed for her room, to finally bring an end to this day, although sleep was beginning to seem doubtful.

***

--On her way there, she heard a voice calling to her from the shadows.

-Isla. Mister Fimes summons you.

--The night wasn’t over. It was a short man in a hunched position, legs bent outwards. He was wrapped up in a black robe, which covered most of his face. Despite it being about an hour past sunset, he bore glasses with black paint on them, concealing his eyes. His voice was slightly raspy, and implying he could be a middle-aged man.

-I’ve no interest in seeing him. – She replied. Ranulf Fimes was one of her master’s rivals, and she owed no allegiance to him. Now, especially, might be a bad idea to see one of her master’s rivals.

-He said it concerns the prince, and that you must come.

-The prince? What do you mean?

-He did not say.

--Something about this seemed dubious. In fact, all of it seemed dubious. To be honest, she should probably just turn away and retire to her room. It would be the sound thing to do. But this? On the same night that her master acted so strangely? She felt torn… Perhaps it was an unhealthy dose of curiosity, or spite, but she decided to follow the cloaked man.

--He carefully led her through the castle halls, choosing a path which apparently avoided detection. They didn’t run into a single person on their way there. Her guide was either incredibly lucky, or he must have memorized the guard’s patrol routes.

-In here. They’re expecting you.

--They were in what seemed to be another hallway, at the north side of the castle. The guide unveiled the red drapes covering the archways that spanned along the left side of it, and she stepped inside. Or outside, more accurately. On the other side was a massive terrace, perhaps fifty paces until its far edge, and four times as wide. It overlooked the river behind the castle, and the forest beyond. The sky was alight with stars, and below, by the terrace walls, two figures stood; smoking pipes. The left one was cloaked in crimson, and the other, larger, in black. As she approached them, the larger one, on the right, turned around and spoke first, revealing a black, long beak, and a coarse, wrinkled hand with three digits that had talons on them, holding the pipe.