[Kransha]

With a thankful word to the King and Queen, and assurance to his wife and son, Morgôs left the great hall, still abuzz with noise despite the late hour. Still, the King and Queen spoke with the Emissary, but the festivities had wound to a near close when the Elven General whisked himself out of the regal palace, and into calm tranquility from whence he’d come. His lengthy robe swinging like a great mantle about him, he glided into the courtyard, his Elven eyes, sharpened and keen, saw the Prince and was greeted, and immediately pressed to the present. He did not know, as he stood, how to phrase this question he had been considering for over a year. The circumstances of the gala evening had not been what he had in mind to clarify his intentions, but he would have to make do.

“Prince Siamak…This must seem…very strange to you, and I apologize for my forwardness in this matter." Morgôs bandied his words about before he spoke, pacing in front of the Prince, who followed the Elf's movements carefully, almost studying him. "I had hoped" Morgôs went on, "to be able to speak with you informally several times before I had to address you thusly, but the fetters of our duties have withheld that option. Therefore, I must approach you now, mere hours after our first meeting, about a graver matter than I had hoped. Again, forgive me, but, in light of the Emissary’s coming and your father’s wishes, I must take counsel here.” There was no response from the Prince, but Siamak did not slowly, understanding the General’s dilemma, and curious about what he had to say. The Prince was sharp, but did not catch the flash in Morgôs’ eye as he realized he had hooked the lad.

“Long have I heard of you, young Prince. Your father may have told you of me, but I do not trust to hope, for I cannot fathom what the king tells you or your sister. Either way, I know of you somewhat, enough to know that you are a sensible lad, and one with a mind that is perhaps keener than those of your father’s courtiers. Of your sister, the Princess, I know enough as well to have chosen a favorite among the two. Many of those warriors who serve under my command know upon whom my favor shines, but you do not. Ever since your birth, I have felt, nay, known that I, as General of Pashtia, had an obligation to favor you or your sister. I dislike politics, with all my heart, but dare not evade it, for it is to me as a serpent, waiting to strike unless it is appeased, and my time has come to appease it, in what feeble way I can. So, tonight, my decision is made, and I come to you, the favored Prince.”

The Prince said nothing. Morgôs could tell that, just as he thought, Siamak was not an avid speaker. Morgôs was not either, but his civic stoicism took over, and this new political underside he’d never known he had was now exposed, intriguing him. Feeling a verbal vigor overcome him, the Elf continued, carefully exercising tact, as well as his own mischievous military strategies refashioned to apply to this conversation. “Now,” he continued brusquely, “with the Emissary from the west so close in our midst, the time has come for your decision. I am an Elf bound to my duties, and would never disobey, or question my king, but, I can set into motion events that might seat a noble son on the throne, one whom I know, and need never question. Your father, like his father before him, is a good, true, and mighty man, but I cannot say that every order given me has been relished in its carrying out, though all are fulfilled. You, Siamak, are the next gem in Pashtia’s crown.”

Siamak, at last, interjected as Morgôs paused, patience half-gone from his shaded face. “Such words would sound treasonous to most, General Morgôs.” Siamak said, not scathingly, but with more seriousness in his tone than before, though still one of great interest, “I sense your true meaning is not underhanded, but I advise you, show more care with what you say. My father is still king.” But Morgôs waved his hand, as if to brush aside such thoughts, and said, “Never, Siamak, would I question your father, or the royal family, but I must impress upon you the importance of this meeting, and what I seek from you: alliance, Prince, and unity between you and another front that could win your father’s favor. Your sister has friends in court lackeys and the petty oligarchs of Kanak, but you can have more, if you grasped that power which is rightfully yours. Grasp it with the hand of a king. Your sister is not yet married; you are in your prime. With all these choices to be made-”

Suddenly, Siamak cut him off. “And what of those choices, General?” he said quietly, apparently pensive about the General’s proposal, but wary. “Do you have some ‘wisdom’ to share with me relating to my decision about the Emissary?”

“I would not impose my wishes on you, Prince Siamak. I wish only for alliance and the chance to provide some wisdom for the man who may someday be king of this land. I only suggest that you be firm, and be the first to make your choice known. When the time comes to make the decision, step forward and force your hand, be counted. Then you shall see what the King favors in an heir. But, that is for another day. On this festive eve I must have one answer and one alone. As a delegate of Pashtian Avari, I have placed my favor, even if your father has not. Will you accept my fealty?”