"Yes, I was thinking of using it as kindling but then I decided not to snap a bow some overpriced elvish craftsman probably made for you," Aerendir says sourly.

The trio make their way through the forest in silence for perhaps a half a mile or so, where they come to a steep slope leading down to a shallow stream. Aldaran instructs Aerendir to wait on one side while he and Marabir cross over to the far side. By this time the sun has set, though a pale light lingers in the sky above, where dull, pink tinged clouds glide slowly by.

Aerendir does, but it’s clear his opinion of anyone who would choose to use varim longknives willingly is not high.

"All right," says Marabir gravely, once Aldaran finally seems to feel there is enough distance between them and Aerendir. "What is it that you wished to tell me about my mother's death?"

Aldaran spares a final, suspicious glance at Aerendir, moving a few more feet away before he begins his story.

"You mother was always headstrong, and was never shy about expressing her views and opinions. In the years leading up to her death this had come to a head, with her championing an alliance with the elves of the Great Southern Forest, and also pushing your father to insist on a number of ethical amendments to the concordat with Mereldinor, such as the outlawing of slavery. The varim held staunchly to the original terms agreed to by King Halandis III and stated that many of the changes she proposed were integral to their own culture and values. An alliance with the elves was also not popular. A good number of the Thanian lords were opposed to it, as well as the kingdom of Morne, who hold a particular animosity to the high elves. You mother stood on a good many toes and made a significant number of enemies."

Marabir frowns, crossing his arms.

"Go on."

"We then come to the night of your mother's death," Aldaran continues. "The royal physician at the time, Arand Saldur, claimed that the cause of death was eclampsia, which came on shortly after your brother Protarius' birth. However, two years later, Saldur paid a visit to a certain priest of Camendur in Carendisal. Saldur confessed to this priest that in the days prior to the birth, an aide of the Morne ambassador had approached him and given him a vial of poison, which he was to administer to your mother during the birth, resulting in fatal seizures which he was then to blame on natural causes. If he refused, or attempted to divulge this to anyone, he would never see his wife and children again. He waited until your brother was born, and then did as he was instructed."

"Why the confession and change of heart?" Marabir asks, frowning.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:51, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

"His family had been travelling by ship when a terrible storm struck and they all perished. His part in your mother's death had already been tormenting him constantly during those two years. This was the final straw, and what he saw as a sign of divine judgement from Camendur. The priest urged him to confess his crime to the king and free his conscience, however, before he could do so he supposedly committed suicide by leaping from his tower in the castle. 'Driven mad by grief' was the claim. I later discovered that Vard had ordered his assassination."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:52, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

"You think Vard was behind all this?" Marabir surmises.

"I don't know about the death of your mother," admits Aldaran. "Though I know he was not at all impressed with the political waves she was causing. But he certainly didn't want Saldur souring already turbulent relations with Morne by pointing the finger at their ambassador's retinue. This priest was an old friend of my father's, and as such he came to me for assistance, not knowing to whom to turn. I did some digging, and, as I said, discovered fairly swiftly that Vard had ordered Saldur to be silenced. I also discovered that the aide who he had claimed had coerced him had been summoned back to Morne shortly after your mother's death and had died himself, shortly afterwards. And there the trail went cold. I discovered he was a highly corrupt individual who had no shortage of shady contacts, but none I could link conclusively to your mother's death. My digging eventually caught the attention of Vard, however. One day I learned that the priest had been killed. Supposedly a burglur's attempt to rob the offering bowl gone wrong. The following day I received an order to eliminate a rogue varim sorcerer in one of the southern provinces. I have no doubt it was designed to result in my death. I was just fortunate that he also happened to be susceptible to amethysts and I still had a few from my Mereldinor days. He put out the report that I had perished in my attempt to kill him and I've spent the last decade tracking down leads. I have a contact in Morne who may be closer than I've been in years, but I am still waiting to hear the results."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:55, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

Marabir scratches his head, clearly trying to process everything he has just heard.

"Assuming what you say is true, why choose to wait until now to tell me all this?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:49, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

"In truth I had hoped to wait until my investigations had yielded more tangible results," Aldaran confesses. "But then I heard of your pending betrothal to the Princess of Morne. Your mother was a good woman, with a strong conscience and a care for common people. I don't doubt Thane would have been a better place if she'd been in it for longer. There are many corrupt lords who have their claws into your father, both here and in Morne, and your mother was right about slavery in Mereldinor. Like anywhere, there are some masters who treat their slaves with tolerable care, especially valuable ones. But some varim are the most sadistic beings you will ever meet, and I have seen the horrors of the pits deep beneath the city, where slaves are whipped and starved and shown less concern than worms. You are young and seem like a decent man, and I do not want you to be moulded and conformed by Vard and the lords of Thane or Morne to merely keep the status quo and do their bidding. Your betrothal to the Princess of Morne would see you begin down a path from which I can see little hope of return. We humans do not have long here in Verun, and I would hate to miss an opportunity to perhaps steer you in the direction I am sure your mother would have wanted."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:10, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

Marabir doesn't appear to be entirely convinced that marrying attractive princesses and being a conscientious ruler are mutually exclusive, but he chooses not to voice this opinion. Instead, he frowns, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"You mentioned in your letter not to trust Morfion?" he prompts. "However, he has been nothing but loyal to my father and our family, and you have failed to mention how he fits into all this?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:38, Wed 15 Mar 2023.

"I have not found any evidence of his involvement in any of this," Aldaran admits. "But it is no secret that he has a hatred for his fellow elves, and is a close friend of Vard's, and I did not wish you to risk putting this information into his hands. Although, it seems it is a little late for that..." he adds resignedly with a glance back at Aerendir.

"Indeed," Aerendir says, not bothering to hide the fact that he heard all that.

Aldaran sighs, though from this distance Marabir himself does not seem to hear Aerendir's response.

"Dratted elvish hearing," mutters the ranger. "Well, it seems you are about to find out whether or not Morfion can be trusted. For your sake I hope you are right..."

Back at the ranger's cabin, in what is an example of an even greater feat of elvish hearing, Dalmar sits perched in the large oak, his head tilted to one side. Beneath him Tyronius paces restlessly, glancing every so often in the direction in which Marabir and Aldaran departed, while Caled lounges against a tree nearby. Larend and Erald sit perched on the step leading to the porch, while Caln limps stiffly about, insisting that if he sits down he won't get up. Calvorn stands at the foot of the tree, his gaze also in the direction Marabir departed, though his surreptitious signing, behind his back, is directed at Dalmar.

So, Dalmar Argant, eh? That certainly explains the body count you've managed to rack up in the past 48 hours. I won't ask what an assassin of your calibre was doing on this 'hunting trip' of yours before your little run in with our valiant prince of Thane...

Dalmar does a credible job of pretending he’s paying attention to Calvorn and not the conversation between Marabir and an agent currently assigned to be dead.

Sensible of you, Calvorn, since obviously I would say that even assassins enjoy holidays sometimes and Thane has far fewer people who slip poison into one’s wine than my fair homeland.

Calvorn suppresses a wry smile.

Indeed.

A moment later Dalmar's keen ears pick up the sound of approaching hoofbeats in the distance. Calvorn detects them a few moments later, his brow furrowing, and soon even Tyronius and his knights are able to hear them as the prince motions for his men to get Erald and take cover behind the trees. Not long afterwards a line of horsemen canter into view along the track leading to the cabin, the leader of which is a tall, wiry man in perhaps his mid forties. He is clean shaven with a hooked nose and proud bearing, and his mount is a black destrier stallion.

Tyronius, peering warily out from behind the large oak, sword in hand, visibly relaxes when he spots the rider.

"Lord Ravalor," he says, stepping out from behind the tree and sheathing his blade as his men do the same. "I am glad to see that my men were successful in reaching your fortress."

"They were indeed," agrees the hawk nosed man with a thin smile as his riders continue to pour into the narrow clearing. "Along with a rather persistent lady whose brother I assume is that boy over yonder?"

"And where is Lady Veldorn?" inquires Calvorn, not seeing her amongst the riders and seeming to feel that there is something off about this.

OOC: Calvorn Areldan rolled 23. Sense Motive.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:24, Thu 16 Mar 2023.