Two Stubborn de Gavrillacs

Things are proceeding as I could wish.
Hyndralad is recovering so well that, observing him one would not think he laid so very near death at one point.

Some weeks have passed, and he is already upon his feet being able to peruse the Agmar gardens at a leisure pace with the assistance of a walking staff.
And he has changed, I have noticed.
He is different from when I met him, detached and cold in Isoloyia, and even less from when he visited Krespania a few months ago in an improved manner, much to my surprise.

The illness' humbling effect has chipped away the leftover condescension and pride in the king, revealing an agreeable layer underneath of warmth, gratitude and of strength: a strength of character he may always have obtained but only recently has it come to light.
Being able to observe this angle of his soul, he appears every bit the wise Vez-Dûn as his rank and age claim.

I see less of the embitterment the world has cultivated in him toward mankind and it's follies, and more of the aforesaid nature in the way he checks his tongue when he is talking with us and restrains the negative words that might have previously spilled over his lips like water from an urn.

In this state I would not hesitate to humble myself in approaching him for advice, as a friend and as one who is superior in knowledge than I - especially when once Lennox left.

My brother continued in his brooding isolation even after we talked and he explained about our cousin.
I suppose it was not Edward's death that plagued him any more but his anger against our uncle brought on by their argument at Fyros.
This proverbial dagger in his side so aggravated that it ended up driving him away in search of fresh surroundings, namely the kingdom of San Vey.
His sudden departure worries me when I think of how tormented he was yet my powers proved useless in counseling him.

When I applied to King Hyndralad for advice he was sorry to say that there was not anything he could do and that his was “a family affair.”
This set forth such an idea that I immdediately set to writing Uncle Reycko.
With the plainest language and the use of all the pleas in my vocabulary I begged him to withdraw the orders concerning Lennox's banishment and reconcile himself to him, for the sake of his late brother, our father, and my own.

Never before had I expressed myself in such heartfelt sincerity as when I wrote this letter, and I hoped they would be just as transparent to Uncle Reycko when he read them.
As soon as the wax of the seal had cooled a courier was dispatched to Fyros with my note.

Whether he will be effected by it, I can not be sure.
But I am almost certain it would be the balm to soothe Lennox's agitated spirits.

Here I am, torn between two stubborn de Gavrillacs in attempt to resolve the feuding parties and restore peace within our family.


-Emerald de Gavrillac
 Queen of Krespania

The Story Unfolding

After the saltwater immersion was attempted King Hydralad became less respondent and even weaker as I feared.
I was on the verge of yielding to the overwhelming fact that we had failed and the death of the Isoloyian king was sure to follow.

A day passed in this grieving conviction, where he laid seemingly at the very gates of eternity that were ever opening wider to receive him.

So silent were the halls of the Agmar castle that I believed I could feel the fingers and breath of death, preying upon us in search of the wounded Vez-Dûns.
But when the soft rays of the summer sun shed itself over the morning dew, and I looked in upon Hyndralad the next morning, I was surprised to see that contrary to the lifeless coma he had been entrapped in, his eyes were open, and upon greeting him found him alert enough to answer me.

His physician spoke the words that I had so been longing to hear: the king had traveled through the worst of it, and we could now expect his recovery.
I let out a breath.
Such a weight left me as though I had been holding my breath the entire duration.
Thank You, Lord!
And I raced to wake Lennox.

From there the king of Isoloyia's recovery took flight like a caged bird with it's first chance at freedom.
The fire returned to his eye's and color was restored to his death-like complexion.
Being blessed with a strong constitution, it did not take long before he was able to leave his room, and many days passed in which we kept Hyndralad company as he rested in the shade of Agmar's palace garden.

We as in Countess Meredith, Adam Saft and some of Agmar's nobles and myself but not Lennox.
He remained withdrawn and his mood dark and brooding, though I knew he must have long been released of a much stronger stress than the one I endured while the victim lay sick.

No, it was something else that bothered him now.
And once my mind had been cleared of anxiety, I remembered what I still needed explained.
I found him back in the library, slumped in a high-backed chair and looking up at seemingly nothing.

“It took you longer than I expected, sister,” said he, as I approached.
“I suppose you will want a full explanation of Edward's death...death, that word has haunted my thoughts for too long.”
The last part he muttered more to himself than to me.

I took a seat opposite him, noticing as he turned to me the even darker circles around his eyes – hollow eyes with only weariness to set them apart from a carven, inanimate statue.
Why, he did not look much better than Hyndralad in his wounded state!

“The astrologers separated Edward, Hyndralad and I from the rest of our men, the night of our raid, and we barricaded ourselves into one of the underground chambers to protect ourselves.
“The astrologers were relentless and banged against the door with a battering ram. It would not be too long before they would breach it so we were left with no choice but to fight as best we could once they entered.
“With only three against a whole number of men, we all knew our chances of survival were slim. Hyndralad and I were prepared for this but our young cousin, with the pounding at the door filling his ears, became frantic and searched desperately for an alternative.
“He picked up an astrologer scroll of spells that lay on the floor and said that we should use it against them. I tried to convince him not to, saying that it was evil and that it were better to die than sell our soul to the devil, but Edward was determined.”

Lennox paused, and his eyes returned to the ceiling, idly.
“Despite Hyndralad and I arguing with him, he opened the scroll and began to read. I wrestled him for control of the scroll, and as his hand waved about trying to keep it out of my reach Hyndralad snatched it and threw it into the burning fire of the brazier that hung to the side of the room.
“Edward exploded and drew his sword, but as he was not as experienced as I, it did not take long to disarm him. He stood, huffing and puffing and red with fury at being beaten, until his eyes darted to the floor.
“Before I could foresee his intentions, he picked up a fallen astrologer shuriken and flung it into Hyndralad's chest – the same poisoned blade that nearly took his life.
“I forgot to mention that there was a chasm at the very back of the cave, dropping hundreds of feet into a rocky river.”

He paused for a moment, blinking several times as if to remove the memories replaying, for I know not how many times, in his mind.
“Wounding Hyndralad in this treacherous manner enraged me beyond self-control, and I lifted and dangled him over the chasm. Such were the wickedness of my thoughts streaking through my mind at that moment, that I contemplated dropping him. But I realized before it was too late that I was not any better than he – I was letting anger take control of me.
“Hyndralad groaned on the floor behind me, and I set Edward down forcefully and ran to his side. He was bleeding tremendously. I started to tend to him when I heard a sliding and crashing sound.
“I saw a glimpse of our cousin as the ground gave way beneath his feet and he fell to his doom...”
His voice trailed off, and I wiped the tears forming in my eyes.

“Oh, Lennox!”
He laid his head in his right hand, a pitiful hunkered form of a man, and exhaled long and wearily.
“That is not all, though. When I relayed the news of his son's death to Uncle Reycko I am afraid some harsh words were spoken on both sides which resulted in him forbidding me ever to enter Fyros and myself by giving the command for Lord Carvin to withdraw any protection from his kingdom.”

Forbidding his own nephew was so very severe as was the measures Lennox took in retaliation that it grieved my heart that their relationship was so delicate and rocky.
He was our only uncle yet past actions had severed any good feelings and cultivated bitterness in my brother.
True, I was hurt, but the actions had not affected me as acutely as it had Lennox.

“Go ahead and rebuke me with your harshest words. Or better yet I will present my face for you to strike – it will be nothing I do not deserve.”

Yes, he was partly to blame for Edward's death, but I would not punish him; it was not my responsibility and he was punishing himself enough I could plainly see.
Punishment when self-inflicted was the cruelest form of all for a penitent person, and he was tearing himself apart.

I dropped to my knees beside his chair and clasped his left hand with mine.
“Edward was not innocent. He was responsible for his actions as you were for yours, and you cannot blame yourself for what happened.”
I looked up at him. “There is a time when you need to let it go and move on.”


-Emerald de Gavrilla
 Queen of Krespania

Upon The Threshold Of Evil

Just as the dark clouds bring rain so the arrival of a letter brings grief and mourning to my soul.
The letter was from Lennox; it gave an account of his encounter with the astrologers and the catastrophe that followed.

As with any war, battle, or skirmish no matter how much thought goes into it things will not go as planned.
For it to follow closely would be a great success.
By some circumstance that I know not how, Lennox writes that our young cousin has been killed and that he is partly to blame.
My curiosity is mad and in turmoil for along with the emotion produced by the loss of kindred is coupled the haunting fact that he was the only son of my uncle's beloved wife now deceased.
His lamentation will not be short and his pain inconsolable.

And without the justification of my brother actions or explanation my anger is aroused that he is in anyway concerned with cousin Edward's death.
I know Edward was not completely blameless by the word treachery contained in Lennox's report, and further know that my brother would not recklessly endanger another's safety.

But lo, more dark news follows further on in his letter that reeks havoc and strips my conscience of any comfort.
In Prince Edward's anger he threw an astrologer's shuriken into king Hyndralad.
The poison tipped weapon embedded itself into the King of Isoloyia's chest, and though the necessary measures of care has been taken to clean the wound for healing Hyndralad continues to draw near to the resting place of his ancestors.

His strength is steadily waning, and Lennox tells me that he fears that he will not have enough time as they are now sailing to Uelar where he hopes he will find the remedy in the many scrolls that his library contains.
The anguish of the other dilemma moves aside in reading these word as desperation has made it's way to my heart.

With every hour slowly ticking away for the Vez-Dûn king, I find it impossible to think of anything else save a solution for my ailing friend.
And now with some consideration I have derived my course of action: Two simple orders that I have delivered to my servants.
The first is to scour the library of LunaMara for any volumes pertaining to poison.
The second is to the captain of the Golden Dawn to ready my ship.

I plan to set sail for Uelar, the Capital of Agmar, with all the books collected, and there I can assist in the search for a remedy and have the enigma of my cousin's death explained to me fully face to face by my brother.

But until this crisis has been resolved for me it will be difficult to remain still, even more so through the long week that lay ahead aboard the ship to Agmar.
My questions will have to lay dormant and restrain their roving restlessness while the allotted time passes and my worries carefully subdued (which will be a difficult task to accomplish).
This peace of mind will not come without harrowing strain but is justified as being necessary for my own well-being.
I will only drive myself mad if my mentality is given full control to mull over and brood without hindrance.

I shall pray, fervently, and search as much as is in my power but that is all that can be done by myself.
It rests in God's hands – God's ever so capable hands, for He can do greatly more.


-Emerald de Gavrillac
Queen of Krespania