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An uneasy quiet has fallen over the chambers of the high conclave.
Within the vaulted chambers of the Golden Aerie's innermost sanctum, leadership of the Eagle Knights sit around a grand, circular table. The dozen people in the room all have their attention fixed on a white-haired woman in a down feather cloak pinned closed by a golden medallion bearing the symbol of a blooming orchid. She is Sidonia Castell, a representative of interests in far northern Nirmathas. Sidonia stands in front of her seat, hands flat on the table in front of her, looking at each leader of the Eagle Knights in attendance one at a time.
"It will not end," she says with certainty. "I have seen these truths. The Accressiel Court speaks of the seasons in stasis, eternal winter is upon us unless we discern the nature of this curse and break it."
One of the many high-ranking members of Andoran's government gathered sits forward, folding her hands atop a thick book. The Supreme-Elect of Almas, Andira Marusek, exhales a sigh and looks around at the other weary faces at the table, lingering on the eldest of them all—Knight-General Reginald Cormoth—the longest. His gaze is distant and unfocused, as if staring through the table.
"While I appreciate the grave concerns of the Accressiel Court," Andira says with a tightness in her voice, "has Lady Gendowyn provided any evidence to back up this doomsaying?"
Sidonia frowns, taking in a deep breath before exhaling slowly and withdrawing her hands from the table. "Visions, divinations, and the learned counsel of those who fought in Nirmathas' Winter War in decades past. We have proof that the seasons can be manipulated via magic."
"Proof of then." Andira notes. "Proof of the, what was it, winter witches? Are we to assume this is another Irriseni plot? Launch a war against the north while we're embroiled in a battle at our borders with thrice-damned Thrune?"
"I'm not saying you should do anything," Sidonia says with a furrow of her brows, creasing the woad-paint markings on her forehead. "I am stating that divine providence has laid a future out for us, and it is a bleak one. We are calling on Andoran to lend aid to our investigation."
The Supreme-Elect sucks in a breath through her teeth and shakes her head. "With all due respect, Ambassador, we cannot commit forces in the middle of a war because of one fey lord's hunch, no matter how—"
"Andira. If I may?"
The voice of the venerable Knight-General Cormoth is enough to silence all argument in the room. The commander of all three branches of the Eagle Knights squares his shoulders and looks up from the table to Sidonia.
"Supreme-Elect Marusek is right, we cannot deploy a sizable force to the north to investigate the Long Winter." Knight-General Cormoth says with a weary voice. Sidonia's expression begins to fall, but the General is quick to continue. "That said, I am not one to spit in the face of providence or divine intervention. While I do not know Lady Gendowyn, I know of her name through her deeds. Had she not lent aid to help stop Azersi and the Ironfang Legion... we may all be fighting a very different war right now."
The eyes of all Eagle Knight leadership settle on the General as he speaks. Sidonia, reluctantly, takes her seat but never once looks away from the elderly knight.
"Andoran will answer the call to aid, but it will take time to rally those appropriate. As you well know, we are drawn too thin. But this is a noble, pressing, endeavor and I will not ignore wisdom so readily offered." Knight-General Cormoth says, briefly drumming his closed fist on the table to indicate an official stance. The other knights at the table one by one repeat the gesture, even Marusek, albeit reluctantly. A stance is swiftly ratified into a decision.
"I thank you, General. You are as wise in your years as I was told." Sidonia says with a subtle incline of her head in deference to the elderly paladin.
"Now then," Knight-General Cormoth continues, "what was your second matter of business?"
Sidonia nods, folding her hands together in front of herself. "I would like to discuss the matter of your alliance with Razmiran..."
___________________
Hours Later...
The Golden Aerie City of Almas
Andoran
Neth 15
4734 AR
___________________
As the conference of the high conclave comes to a close, high-ranking knights and their senior staff filter out of the meeting chamber. As Knight-General Cormoth exits, one hand resting on the cold iron longsword sheathed at his side, the other steadies his gait by resting on the head of a sturdy cane.
"Did they all vote to put you out to pasture?" A woman asks with a fluttering laugh from beside the conclave entrance. Cormoth does not turn to look at the woman sassing him, only smiles and continues walking.
"They know I'll rust like an old plough if left exposed to the elements," the General quips with a smile. He then looks to the approaching form of the broad-shouldered blonde woman that stands nearly head and shoulders taller than him.
Calisaria Reinn is possessed of a wild mane of blonde hair and is sturdily built for an elf, biceps stressing the seams of her officer's jacket. She looks back over her shoulder to the departing Ambassador of the Accressiel Court, then squares her murky blue eyes on old Cormoth.
"How did it go?" She asks more seriously, voice low.
"Well enough, but... it's unsustainable." Cormoth says with a shake of his head. He can feel Calisaria's unblinking stare on him and knows she wants a fuller answer. "We've agreed to send a reconnaissance team north to assist the Nirmathi in investigating the witches of Irrisen as a possible source of the Long Winter. Given the nature of the work, we're required to send some of our best."
"Which we can't spare," Calisaria picks up on where this is going. "Traxxus is still at the western front, Sessamon won't be leaving the Arch of Aroden with his fleet for months yet, and Trellis... is pulled in six directions trying to maintain our intelligence network." Calisaria's brows furrow and she considers her mentor thoughtfully. "Are you sending me, old man?"
Cormoth laughs and shakes his head. "No." The quickness with which he dismissed the idea initially rubs Calisaria the wrong way, but he's equally quick to explain himself. "I'm not sending you to die in the north, because I fear that's all this will amount to. Irrisen is a walled garden, not even Cheliax has ever successfully embedded spies within their nation. The Witch Queen has eyes everywhere."
"Then why send them at all?" Calisaria challenges. "What do we gain by giving the Accressiel Court these lives?"
"It's more complicated than you know," Cormoth replies, tiredly.
"Then help me understand. What good am I to you if you keep me at arm's length?"
Cormoth stops, halfway down the hall, and turns to face Calisaria. His expression is a tired, but understanding one. But it is tempered by shades of guilt. "There are some truths about our nation that I desire to insulate you from. For your own good. For the good of the people."
"I'm no stranger to how dirty our nation's hands are." Calisaria snaps back under her breath as she steps closer to Cormoth. "How does my ignorance benefit the people?"
"Accountability." Cormoth says with a heavy heart, looking down to the sword sheathed at his side. It hangs heavy and dull off his hip, a cold iron blade weighted with a lifetime of choices. "Have I ever steered you astray?"
"No." She replies with the utmost confidence.
"Then trust me, now," Cormoth says as he puts a hand on her shoulder, "that I am doing all I can to ensure your success. Because one of these days, all of this is going to land squarely on your shoulders."
What should be a promise of future glory feels more like condemnation to Calisaria, what with Cormoth's somber delivery. She says nothing in return, merely rests one of her hands atop her mentor's.
The two return to their walk together. This time, in silence.
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