Missive from Council To Arbiter El Endande

Storm Season Fourth Quarter Second Day of Sighs

I have arrived at Watterkrek and have learned the venerable Amberglass was instrumental in removing a scourge of rock wyvern which had been recently preying on the Margrave’s flocks of ironwool sheep. I wish confirmation that his actions were not sanctioned by council as this will affect the assaying of arcane works in the region of my responsibility. This will complicate my official ledger of the season if this is truly the case.

“The stones we have are barely enough to sustain my marshlands,” the now withered and ancient Margrave Reidsweither complained as he rubbed what little white hair that remained scattered over his spotted scalp. I was surprised he still commanded his waterlogged march. He had not been a young man when I had last met him, now he was stooped and encloaked in an old man’s grey. Even his cloak, coat and breeches seemed to have lost all their color. Despite the relative warmth of the hall, he remain swaddled. “I cannot spare a single one. The buerweed would choke all and everything without such protection.”

The third Margrave Edrick had invited, the imposing blond bearded Keith of Bearing Baelok was also similarly unwilling to part with a single stone. We sat at the wood table that had been brought into the main hall, I beside Watterkrek, the two other lords opposite. Torches flickered in the draft.

“You have given me little reason to stay and hear more,” he stated, glancing briefly to me before returning his narrow gaze Watterkrek. That was his third threat he would abandon the meeting. “Without the stones, our farmlands would be barren moors.”

The Keith certainly didn’t dress like a farmer, or even a typical March Lord. His soldierly regalia made me think of Omar and his gold trimmed black.

The young, at least when compared to Reidsweither, Watterkrek turned to me eyebrows raised in acknowledging my appreciation of what he told me previously; that any of the stones of his fellow march lords would have to be pried out of their grasping and unwilling hands. I prodded him to continue with what we discussed to help convince them of the urgency and necessity.

“We cannot risk the same fate that befell the Bardelaisch March to strike our lands,” he told them.” And this is a small risk to us to ensure that whoever was behind the theft is caught and the incident emboldens whoever was responsible to come for what we have. The Venerable Amberglass already has risked his hide to expel the rock wyvern who had accosted Watterkrek. He is a man of his word.”

“We can protect our stones,” the Keith insisted, turning his leather gloved right hand into a fist. Muscular and tall, clothed in black leathers and shiny ringmail, his large two handed sword lay before him on the table scabbarded, yet ready, I might add. He continued to present the image of a soldier who took matters into his own hands. His ancient fellow agreed, even if the man’s tone was weaker. “Against any thievery, my men will sacrifice their lives if need be.”

“Can you protect them, though?” I wondered aloud. “Against magicks?”