A Frozen Requiem

Second day of Ivanneth, year 34 in the Age of Wandering

You - Zev Subodai, Warrior Prince of Rimenacht - stand at the window, watching absently as the light snow outside dances its way down to the ground. Somehow the sight of it makes you feel calmer - warmer -  than you have all week. Just a few days ago you were heir to the throne of the Winter King, poised to rule over Rimenacht and the entire kingdom when your father eventually diminishes into the West. Tomorrow you are to take command at Glacier’s Edge, a place more in need of trouble than a guardian, truth be told. Today… you are judged.

You seem not to notice the looks you get from the council as you walk passed them to leave the chamber: sullen, disdainful, fearful, confused. They give you a wide berth as they make their way out into the drifting white.

Outside your sister, Miriel, clings to your brother, Safed, sobbing deeply into his chest. Safed comforts her while his eyes meet yours and a menacing grin creeps across his face.

Behind you in the chamber, Callean - the revered and wise Althing of Rimenacht - remains to see to the Winter King, who has not spoken a word since the proceedings began.

My eyes harden when I meet Safed’s gaze, then I deliberately look back to the serenity of falling snow.  Without turning, I speak slowly and carefully to the Althing.

“Callean, my friend.  I will have great need of your counsel soon, as I believe my father wants yours now.  Yet some things in families are best spoken of … privately.”  I turn back slowly, clasping my hands behind my back, otherwise in a fully-erect pose, standing at attention as though at a field drill.  ”If I could have a moment with His Majesty?”  All of my attention is focused on the Althing, and my tone is carefully neutral.  Indeed, I’m speaking as though without awareness my father sits armored by silence on his Throne.

An armor I intend to breach.  A Throne that will be mine.

Do you want an Etiquette check here?  I’m doing my best to be unfailingly, excruciatingly, and ironically polite.  And I don’t want to offend Callean by trying to shuffle him off.

Callean, kneeling beside the Winter King, looks up as you speak but notably does not look at you. He rises to his feet and heaves a heavy sigh as he turns his attention to the Winter King once more.

“He’s your father. I have no call to deny you an audience.”

His sharp gaze suddenly meets yours “Although I’m no longer sure if you’re his son. We are supposed to grow wiser with the passage time and the accumulation of experience… but even now, when you are effectively exiled from your station - stripped of your rank and made to live amongst Men -” this word he spits out with rather naked vile, “those arrogant fires in your eyes are bright as ever.

“Most would say you’re too old to learn any humility, but I pray this is not true. If you don’t, I fear you will never come back from your… ‘probation.’ I fear your brother will indeed rule - and as much as I love him as well, his arrogance is less deserved than yours. I fear his mistakes at the Throne shall be your legacy.”

His gaze softens as he looks upon the King again. “So I hope you plan to use this audience with the Etharch wisely.” His eyes on you again. “It’s likely the last one you’ll ever get.”

The Althing walks regally towards the exit.

My face remains largely expressionless as the Althing delivers his personal verdict, but I do grimace at the word “men.”

I remain facing the Winter King, though my eyes follow Callean as he departs.  I look up and meet the King’s gaze without flinching.  It took a lot of practice to do that, practice earned mostly in the yards, learning the Sword Singer’s art from the hands of the Winter King himself.  How had things fallen this far?  I wait until I’m certain the Althing is out of hearing.

“Not one word,” I say, barely louder than a whisper. “You didn’t say a single word.” My own words echo in the empty chamber.  ”You could have stopped this with a gesture,” I add, my voice rising in pitch and volume.  My words begin to fall into a cadence, forming a song, one of the many arts the lesser races cannot comprehend.  This song, the Voice of Ages, is a sign recognizable by any elven lord that a serious matter is about to be discussed, and that the singer seeks to concentrate all his efforts onto the debate.

I continue singing, staring into the Winter King’s eyes and looking for any sign of emotion or response.

You set your own Obstacle with Voice of Ages.  I choose Obstacle 2, which will give me +1D to Oratory or Persuasion for the duration of a Duel of Wits.  It takes a number of actions equal to 4 x the Ob, so 8 actions - a very short time out of combat.  I’m taking that to mean I have time to do it to prepare beforehand.  If that’s incorrect, I’ll revise.  Waiting for your confirmation before rolling anything.

The Winter King does not answer. His face remains emotionless, his gaze fixed and vacant. But the King does not remain silent out of choice. He is catatonic. His faculties are desperately trying to run away from the reality of the situation. He has given up hope.

You may not acknowledge it consciously, but you have always been perceptive - somewhere deep inside you must surely know that you are the cause for his father’s grief.

(This is tantamount to betrayal. Please mark an Obstactle 8 test for Grief.

Also, apologies for “controlling your character” there for a second, but it was a light touch so hopefully you don’t mind.)

My song trails off into silence, without the strong ending the Voice of Ages usually requires.  Gradually I perceive his state is more than his customary reserve mixed with disapproval.  I kneel before him, put a hand on the hilt of my sword, and say, “I will do my duty - and more.  As always.”  I rise and lean towards the Winter King until our faces are nearly touching and kiss him lightly on the cheek.  I whisper fiercely in his ear, “And I will make things right!”

I take three steps back, kneel on both knees, and place my head on the floor with my hands alongside in our culture’s most formal obeisance, saved for the most ritual occasions.  ”Your Majesty,” I say to the floor.  I rise, look into his empty eyes one last time, then turn and stride down the hall after the Althing.  I don’t look back.

Safed will pay for this.

(I don’t mind a very light touch. I think it’d be better if you said you instead of Zev, though.  I think it would make it clearer to anyone who reads it who the GM is and who the player is.  I’ve also marked a challenging test for Grief, but I intend to sing a Lament later to try to reduce it to Difficult, just so we’re clear.

(I also forgot something when we started: the Song of Bonding, p.149: “If a player is starting a Second in a game with his Sword Singer, sing this song before the game starts.  If the song fails, or the Second’s Sword Singer is not part of the game, then the player may choose to bond himself to another master as the game progresses.”  If it succeeds I gain the Bonded trait: a call-on for Steel when my master is in danger.  It’s an Ob 6 test for a B2 magical skill, so there’s almost no chance, but if I am Bonded to my father, I would like to know.  Shall I roll for it?)

(Please do test Song of Bonding.)

Outside, Callean stands with Miriel and Safed, a hand on each of their elbows, speaking and behaving reassuringly. Miriel is looking at the ground, clearly fighting back tears.

Safed looks serene and appears touched by his words. His eyes harden slightly as he notices you fast approaching, about 10 paces behind the Althing. He takes the sister’s hand and squeezes it, already anticipating how to turn this situation to his advantage.

(Song of Bonding Results: [5, 2].  Probability wins; I lose.  Challenging test marked.)

I pause as I see them huddled so, assessing the situation as though it were a battle - for it is, whether any but Safed and I see it so.  I approach them on my sister’s side and take Miriel’s other hand, giving my own comforting squeeze as I ask the Althing in a quiet voice, “Callean.  You were closest to him.  Was he like this the whole trial?”  

Miriel visibly bristles and steels herself as you grab her hand, and you can tell she leans a little bit toward Safed… yet she squeezes your hand back. The fear she has learned lately hasn’t eclipsed her love completely.

Safed audibly scoffs at your question, complete with an eyeroll and a disbelieving head shake.

The Althing looks at you, failing to hide the accusation in his eyes, and answers curtly: “Yes.”

Seeing and feeling her hesitation, I drop Miriel’s hand after looking into her eyes a moment.  Is nothing left to me?

“I have every confidence the realm will be secure in your hands until he recovers,” I say gravely to the Althing. “Callean, I need to speak with you, but if you will excuse us for a few minutes, I have a couple private words for Safed.  Miri, please wait as well.”  Anticipating her concern, I add “Don’t worry!” with as innocent a smile as I can manage.

“Brother, if you will walk with me?”  I gesture towards a nearby tree, far enough away that no one else can listen, but close enough that Miriel and Callean will be able to see and not be worried.

I am waiting beside the tree as Safed reaches me.  I walk around it slowly, tracing my right index finger along its bark, until I’m facing Safed’s back and the other two cannot see my face.  I wait for him to face me.  Then I let all the contempt I feel for him and all the regal bearing I’ve learned coalesce into one baleful glare.  I snarl, “It should have been you, and I regret it wasn’t.”

(My intent is to force him to make a Steel test so he will Hesitate and look the fool, while also giving me time to come back and say something to Miri that I know he won’t overhear.  To me that looks like Silent Fury (Intimidate) with a FoRK from Paean of Deeds (Conspicuous).  I’d also suggest that as an elf who has recently done violence that Safed himself witnessed, I should get at least one advantage die on my attempt to frighten him. Maybe even two.)

(Obstacle is his Will, 5, +2 Ob due to gray shaded, +1D situational advantage because he thinks you’ve come unhinged.

Intent: Safed will be forced to make a Steel test.

Consequences: Should you fail, Safed will purposefully cower conspicuously and draw a crowd. This will cause the Althing to push you to hasten your departure.)

(Well, here goes nothing.  Four open-ended dice against an Ob 7: [5, 6, 5, 6, 5, 6, 5]!  Seven successes!  Wow!  I have never rolled this well in my life.  It’s going to come back to haunt me, I’m sure.)

You couldn’t have cut the self-assured smirk off his face any more efficiently had you used a knife.

(Safed must make a Steel test vs his Hesitation, B7 vs Ob 3. This test is open-ended.)

[1, 6, 3, 1, 5, 4, 2, 4; 4 successes against Ob 3; Success]

Safed hardly flinches against your outburst, but you can see his cheeks beginning to burn red with anger. “You’ve already put yourself in a bad spot, brother - if you wish to make it worse, please: test me.”

(All right.  Here’s my intent, tell me if it’s possible.

I want to say a few words to Safed to rile him up further.  No roll, I assume.  I then want to turn and walk quickly back towards Miriel and Callean without looking like I’m beating a retreat (I intend to bow first, so it’s clear).  I want to do that so that he has to shout any reply, forcing him to choose between etiquette and getting the last word in.  Is it possible?  If so, what would I roll, and what would the failure consequence be?  I assume Speed would go in there somewhere.)