Saorise shifted her weight forward onto her arms as she brought her legs up onto the branch, squatting as she turned to look out one last time at the setting sun far in the west. Then, she rose and stepped lightly along the branch with ease, leaping to another, then another before she leapt onto the window sill then dropped into the stone hallway. Lady Helen looked at her with discontent.

“You know you shouldn’t be out there, My Lady,” Lady Helen grumbled as she reached out and brushed off the dirt and bark on Saorise’s leggings.

Saorise’s skirt lay discarded on the window seat. As something made in the East it was far easier to move in than clothes from the kingdoms with their layers of unnecessary fluff and grandeur, and not to mention the restricting corsets, but it still hindered her movements when she wished to practice her untamed heritage.

“What is it, Helen?” asked Saorise as she took up the skirt and stepped into it unceremoniously, pulling it up over her waist. It sat over her leggings, straight and free-flowing as it fell to her ankles with two long slits either side up to her thighs to help with movement.

“A messenger from your father, My Lady,” Helen explained, “It appeared quite urgent”.

Saorise frowned at the seriousness in Lady Helen’s tone, then turned and walked towards the reception room where she would meet with the man who waited for her.

The tall arches on the side were open to the elements, the gossamer curtains dancing delicately in the light wind. The stone columns that separated each arch reached up like arms to hold the roof aloft. The hall, apart from the intricate carvings in the columns that detailed the joys of the forest far below, was largely undecorated. Families in the East did not believe in decoration. They had no need to demonstrate their wealth and power where it was not valued. Their bloodlines were acknowledged of course, they were an old people, but their abilities were what commanded respect. House Caramort had rarely failed to live up to expectations.

Saorise entered the door at the end of the hall that dominated the western side of the Keep that looked over the cliff. She made a sharp left turn, walking down the southern side of the Keep for several moments, the hallway becoming more and more crowded as they approached the Main Entrance of the Keep on its Southern side.

She smiled politely and bowed her head to any guests in greeting. The Caramort Keep was not only home to her family, but also a popular meeting place for Eastern Leaders. It was not uncommon for them to grace the more public areas of the Keep, though the Northern side of the Keep were usually only open to her family. Saorise made another left turn through the wide open double doors, the busy main courtyard filling her senses. The Keep’s Guards stood to attention in her presence, and she passed them by with only quick glances of acknowledgement. On any other occasion she would take the time to greet them and talk with them, but a messenger from her father was rare since the beginning of the stalemate a year ago. Something must have happened.

The Southern Courtyard was quite vast as it was, large enough to hold an army of ten thousand if the need arose. The main Barracks and Stables however were situated in the smaller courtyard in the South-Eastern corner of the Keep, a large arch way wide enough to fit two carriages connecting the two. Most the traffic in the courtyard today was between the two courtyards, but there were several groups of individuals working or talking at the Northern end of the courtyard as Saorise passed them and climbed the staircase into the main keep.

The audience hall was situated on the opposite side of a much smaller and more decorative courtyard. This courtyard had not always been so pretty, but Elizabeth had insisted upon it not long after she’d arrived, believing that the Keep was often too dull and militarised for foreign tastes. Nathan, more than willing to make his wife happy, had allowed her to place a beautiful tree in the centre, and put mosaic tiled images in the four corners. Each of the images represented one of the faces of Leisha, the Goddess of Life. In the north-east, a baby wrapped in a white blanket, lying on a bed of wildflowers. In the south-east, a girl of around twelve drawing back her bow as she hunted a doe. In the south-west, a woman clad in oranges and reds dancing among autumn leaves, and in the north-west, an old woman lying once more on a bed of wildflowers, but this time dressed in black.

Everyone who saw it after it had been made had praised Elizabeth, who despite coming from a southern country, had done such a marvellous job in honouring a Goddess only honoured in the East.

Saorise entered the audience hall. A place with no high seat like most would expect. Instead, 93 seats sat around the hall, all with a flag hanging behind them indicating the noble family the seat was reserved for. The Messenger in question paced before the Caramort seat at the far end of the room. He had most likely been asked to sit at one of the may reception tables in the room as he waited but considering he had not, likely meant the message was just as urgent as Helen had suspected. Saorise saw no reason to waste time with formalities and small talk. She rarely did anyway. The East had little patience to dance around words. Though that did not mean they wouldn’t make the exception for their ‘high society’ loving neighbours. Luckily, this was not such an occasion.

“The message?” asked Saorise, her hand held out. The man hurriedly delivered it to her hand and she cracked open the wax seal and unfolded it to read its contents.

Those present in the room, mostly those who were vassals of the Caramorts, waited with baited breath as she read it. After a moment, her expression giving nothing away, she refolded the letter then looked at the messenger.

“Wait there, I’ll deliver a reply presently,” Saorise said, then she turned to far corner of the room where a hallway took her to her father’s study, she instructed Helen as she walked, “Have him fed and give him supplies for the return trip”.

She quickly penned a reply. It was technically her father’s but he hadn’t returned in three years thanks to the conflict on their borders. Saorise still refused to think of it as hers though, she left everything as he had. It did bother her sometimes when she wanted to move something for easier access, but the reminder that the room was not hers, and that she had no ambitions for it to ever be, made the burden so much easier to ignore. Once the reply was done, she sealed it and stood to deliver it back to the messenger.

“Make haste,” Saorise instructed him.

The messenger met those crystal green eyes, the purest blood of his people. He saw their determination and resolve, and he nodded respectfully in reply before leaving swiftly.

As the hall was cast into silence, Saorise finally spoke of the contents of the letter to those gathered, “The King of Wendolan has taken ill, and the court there fears the worst. With the heir to Wendolan’s throne being a drunken, whoring cad, Father believes Wendolan’s mood will become quite sombre soon. They will likely have no drive to continue their campaign in the East. Father and my brothers were asking for my opinion on whether they should advance now or bide their time”.

Nathan and his sons knew of Saorise’s wisdom. They’d witnessed it as she’d grown up and excelled in her studies and in her training. Nathan had only been immensely grateful that she had no ambition, though any lesser man would have feared for his future and that of his people should such a talent be unleashed.

“Then they shall surely push forward, My lady,” Helen stated confidently. The people of the East had been humiliated long enough, their pride wouldn’t be able to take it if they didn’t take back what they’d lost.

“No,” Saorise replied, “Not yet”.

Helen frowned, “But they have taken eastern lands, My Lady, surely you would not deny the people their vengeance?”

Saorise turned to look at Helen, “There are three possibilities for our future, and only one of them shall be of benefit should we push forward immediately. I like to have better odds before I risk the lives of the people”.

“Three, My Lady?” asked Helen.

Saorise sighed, “First, the King could recover, and afterwards the campaign would continue. Second, the King dies but the Prince turns out to be far more competent than what rumour would have us believe. The campaign continues, possibly more aggressively than before. To push forward in either of those situations would only end in our people’s bloodshed against such a war mongering nation”.

“Why would you suspect the Prince, My Lady?” asked Helen. She was right to be sceptical, the rumours surrounding the Crown Prince of Wendolan were abundant. Rare was the time when something good was said about him. Lady Helen struggled to even think of a single good thing that had been said about the man in that moment.

“Because rumours are a double-edged blade,” replied Saorise, “They can cut your enemies just as deeply as they can cut you. While many would like to think otherwise thanks to how numerous the rumours are, I can’t help but be cautious that those same rumours are being used to lull us all into a false sense of security. Unless he’s a complete idiot, no one in such a position of power would promote such awful rumours and supress the good, then somehow still be alive. Unless the Prince has the luck of Canvor, he’s likely just as war mongering as his father and grandfather and the other generations before them, if not more so”.

“There have been less than presentable princes of Wendolan before,” Helen pointed out.

“Aye, but none have ever been Crown Princes,” Saorise stated, “He has three younger brothers that have all at the very least demonstrated competence, yet they leave the crown to the vastly incompetent oldest just because of a succession law generations old? Even if Wendolan is fixed in its traditions, it is highly suspicious”.

“I see, My Lady has thought on this point extensively. And of the third possibility?” asked Helen.

“The Prince turns out to be just as much of an idiot as rumour would have it, and in that situation, it would be better to push forward after the king’s death when Wendolan’s administration is too busy trying to cater to the whims of such a man,” Saorise said, “I advised Father and my brothers to stay and bide their time. I only hope they take my advice”.