The Great Hall of the seat of the Yransea Barony was as quiet as it could be with forty-five people seated at long tables. A shift of cloth was as loud as a crash of swords. Sylvia watched those gathered with a cool gaze. She wanted them to twitch, to be unnerved. She sat before them alive when all thought her dead to the world, last seen with the shafts of three arrows pinning her back like some absurd pin cushion. Rumors danced about that she was not the true Sylvia Nightshade, mother Baroness to the Baron of Yransea, but an abhorrent doppelganger created in that Rhydin. Other such perverse rumors had chased about the town with the assistance of the visiting lords and merchants. Sylvia wanted them to see her and think on those rumors. The hall sat in tainted silence, and all eyes were on her.
To add to the unease, one of their numbers was gone from their table replaced by Captain Gaerwyn Caisson. That the Baron Galwyn had hired the attackers was as common knowledge that the sun rises every morning. He and his family taken to the crown to answer for the crimes, Gaerwyn was in a seat once held by a traitor and the meaning was more than clear to those that remained. Treachery would gain nothing but an easy replacement with someone trusted by Yransea. Yransea would impose its power when forced, and it would be best for those not to play against that power.
Such a message was spoken in the entirety of the room. Banners of the other lords stood behind the banners of Yransea, where once before they had been lined according to arrival and Yransea had placed its banner last in respect of its guests. Now, the banner also hung at the beginning of the fabric parade. Patterns and hints of the Yransea arms dotted the landscape, but no symbol was more powerful than Sylvia seated in her chair wearing the formal attire and the coronet upon her dark hair flashed its message: do not test me.
Prince Maelgwn had condoned and even suggested some measures of this show. His countenance was just as severe, and he watched the nobles and merchants do their little dances of unease in their chairs. Only Captain Caisson was peaceful, his face unreadable, but he did not move a twitch but his eyes glanced over the hall?s populace much as Maelgwn?s did.
In relief, Maelgwn gave a nod to Sylvia and she spoke. ?Let us return to the matters before us, for they are of importance that affect beyond borders of baronies, but to the people of Palendies. I am Sylvia, Baroness of Yransea, born of the manor Nightshade in foreign lands. My son is not with us today, for the words to be spoken will be swift and harsh. We will drop the delicacies and speak plainly. Time has wasted away in the futile attempt to caste the Yransea family from their rightful place.? In the ease of court, the practice of change in her tempo, her smile curved her lips for the first time in that hall that day. ?My good sirs and gentle lords, let us see to the greatness of our nation and meet over measures allowing that greatness to continue.?
There was no person there that would deny that mutual goal, and with rounds of nods and calls of agreement, they set to the conflicts of their business and easing the ways to improve trade and relations between the landed lords and the growing power of the merchant class.
To add to the unease, one of their numbers was gone from their table replaced by Captain Gaerwyn Caisson. That the Baron Galwyn had hired the attackers was as common knowledge that the sun rises every morning. He and his family taken to the crown to answer for the crimes, Gaerwyn was in a seat once held by a traitor and the meaning was more than clear to those that remained. Treachery would gain nothing but an easy replacement with someone trusted by Yransea. Yransea would impose its power when forced, and it would be best for those not to play against that power.
Such a message was spoken in the entirety of the room. Banners of the other lords stood behind the banners of Yransea, where once before they had been lined according to arrival and Yransea had placed its banner last in respect of its guests. Now, the banner also hung at the beginning of the fabric parade. Patterns and hints of the Yransea arms dotted the landscape, but no symbol was more powerful than Sylvia seated in her chair wearing the formal attire and the coronet upon her dark hair flashed its message: do not test me.
Prince Maelgwn had condoned and even suggested some measures of this show. His countenance was just as severe, and he watched the nobles and merchants do their little dances of unease in their chairs. Only Captain Caisson was peaceful, his face unreadable, but he did not move a twitch but his eyes glanced over the hall?s populace much as Maelgwn?s did.
In relief, Maelgwn gave a nod to Sylvia and she spoke. ?Let us return to the matters before us, for they are of importance that affect beyond borders of baronies, but to the people of Palendies. I am Sylvia, Baroness of Yransea, born of the manor Nightshade in foreign lands. My son is not with us today, for the words to be spoken will be swift and harsh. We will drop the delicacies and speak plainly. Time has wasted away in the futile attempt to caste the Yransea family from their rightful place.? In the ease of court, the practice of change in her tempo, her smile curved her lips for the first time in that hall that day. ?My good sirs and gentle lords, let us see to the greatness of our nation and meet over measures allowing that greatness to continue.?
There was no person there that would deny that mutual goal, and with rounds of nods and calls of agreement, they set to the conflicts of their business and easing the ways to improve trade and relations between the landed lords and the growing power of the merchant class.