Amber sized up the former Lord Regent of the Whitelands. He seemed young, not even a man yet. She knew he looked up to Gregar though, and she'd hopefully see his swordsmanship later on.
On the other hand, she didn't trust Brier. She seemed needy, and... She couldn't quite put a finger on it. Distrustful?
She wondered whether to kneel or not in front of Gregar. She decided to draw her sword. It wasn't her sword Honour, which she'd left along with her axe Valour at the Forklands, but it was a good blade. She'd keep it. As Gregar spoke of her situation, the lords turned to her. She knew some of them would be surprised a woman was fighting and not a whore or at home with her children, but some still offered themselves to her as they did to Gregar.
“Now that we've done all that.. servants! BRING US WINE!”
She stuck close to the Weades but didn't say much. She still wondered about Tomas. Where was he now? Where was mother? The waiting was infuriating, and even her chalice of wine could not calm her.
-----
Tomas nodded, "Many thanks." It was not often that someone had refused his advances, and he was slightly taken aback. He started to walk in. Then the temptation grew too sweet.
"Good, I'm expected there."
It would probably have been best not to mention who he was, but it mattered little at this point. Most people wouldn't know who he was, and in any case they'd pay more respect to a beggar than a bastard this far North. He actually would probably miss the semi-acceptance he'd managed to acquire in the Forklands.
He followed the girl's instructions and found the main hall. He saw Amber. Thank the gods, she's alive. Amber saw him and he saw her try and conceal her emotions. It worked quite well, and she managed to excuse herself from the others to come to him.
"Gods, your leg..." she said as she approached him.
"It'll heal. In the meantime, I wouldn't want to enter the hall like this, I need clean clothes and a shower."
"Of course," she embraced him and he put his hand on her shoulder.
"Do you know where mother is?" he asked her.
Amber looked down at the ground.
"You don't know either, do you?" she asked.
Damn. So there are only two possibilites. And the better one would be that the damned advisors are keeping her prisoner.
"We'll get the bastards," he said, trying to confort her.
Amber nodded. "I know, Gregar is planning to help us. His lords seem more or less inclined to help us as well," she said. "As to your room, I think they've arranged yours next to mine." She briefly gave him the instructions on how to get there.
Amber returned to her hosts. Tomas went up and quickly washed himself, putting on the leather tunic and fur cloak that had been laid out for him. He also took some of the mead on the table and poured it over his wound, biting his lip. The maggots had probably done their job, but he couldnt' be sure. As he walked out of his room to join the Main Hall again, he spotted a pretty maid in the hallway. Not today, he thought, and walked down the steps to the hall.
As he entered, not many people paid him much notice. One lord recognized him and greeted him, and pointed him to his sister. Tomas thanked him and joined Amber and the others. She seemed to be talking to several noblemen. He recognised Gregar, of course, but he also had a boy and man in black armour next to him. Were they his siblings? He'd never met them.
"I don't believe we've had a proper introduction. Ser Tomas Rossric, Bastard of the late Lord Rossric.
-----
Horvik walked across the Great Hall, which had become a battlefield. Crows rested on corpses, feeding off of them, and the Battlemaster was covered in blood. They'd killed nearly every supporter of the foolish girl. How easy it is to crush a kingdom. He thought. Dig away at the surface and all you have is the respect of lords. Lose that, and you have nothing, and can be eliminated easily.
He walked up to the throne. The two other Advisors, the High Priest Jenner and Spymaster Clovis. Both of them were waiting for him.
Jenner spoke up. "My... position as head of the church forbids me of assuming the position of Duke."
Clovis gave a wry smile that made Horvik feel uneasy. "We would not want to anger the Gods."
"Er... Quite. And Clovis cannot become a Duke, as it would impede on his little spy ring. So we believe that in our best interests, you should be duke."
Music to Horvik's ears, he nearly laughed. Too easy. He walked up to Amber's crown, which she had dropped, and seized it. It would have to be remade, of course, but it was her power. All her authority.
"Have this melted and remade. Her weapons, as well," he instructed a servant.
"Y-y-yes sir."
He watched the servant speed off.
"See that the prisoners are rounded up and thrown in the dungeons. Who survived?"
"Not many, Horvik," replied Jenner. "The Duchess' mother. A few distant cousins and other noblemen who threw their swords to the ground during the revolt."
Horvik, "Good. Interrogate the older men, and make sure none of the women are raped. We aren't savages, and I'll see discipline in this army."
"Of course." The two advisors walked off.
Duke Horvik, ruler of the Forklands. It's all mine.