Eryshae

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Corven

Corven stood in his own parlor, fingers wrapped around a tumbler of stone-brewed bitterroot. The warmth from the fireplace flickered low across the dark wood-paneled room, throwing long shadows across the old bookshelves and the carved stag heads mounted above them. Morning filtered in from the tall windows behind him, tempered by gauzy curtains that dulled the harsh edge of sunlight.

The door creaked open. Serene Liri stepped through without hesitation, her poise as deliberate as ever; but Corven's sharp eyes caught the subtle shift in her frame as she crossed the threshold. Tension. Pride. Something cloaked beneath the presentation.

She wore a fitted blouse of velvet red and a deep black corset that accentuated her figure, all artfully balanced between refined and provocative. But it was the collar at her throat that held his attention. Silver, smooth, and locked; unmistakably deliberate. Not for ornament. Not a fashion statement.

A symbol. A tether. Corven's jaw tightened just slightly, though he masked it behind a sip of his drink. "Serene," he said, voice low and steady. "You honor me with a personal visit. I trust the Cardinal accommodations were… satisfactory?"

She inclined her head with that signature poise that never cracked. "The Cardinals ensured I was well cared for." She stepped forward and extended a gloved hand, offering a black envelope sealed in crimson wax; unmarked, save for the elegant stamp of her personal insignia. Corven took it carefully.

"A proposal," Serene said, voice smooth and deliberate, "that I intend to present at the next Solstice with Emberhold. The details are inside." He gave a quiet hum, neither agreement nor dismissal, and accepted the black envelope she offered. Her fingers brushed his; a delicate touch, deliberate. She watched him carefully, but said nothing.

Corven broke the seal with his thumb and unfolded the crisp parchment within. His eyes flicked over the inked script. A flicker of something passed through his gaze; surprise, perhaps, or calculation. He folded it again, slowly. "And you believe you're the best choice to speak for it."

"I am the best choice," she replied; not with arrogance, but with a tempered certainty. "I know how to navigate the city's interests. I understand the balance of performance and power. And more importantly… I'm a new Cardinal with lots of fresh ideas."

Corven gestured toward a high-backed chair across from him. "Sit, then. Let's talk." She obeyed; but not before Corven's eyes once again found the collar at her neck. He intended to learn who, exactly, she was chained to.

A quiet stretched between them. The kind of silence that didn't invite comfort; it tested it. Corven leaned against the edge of the hearth, gaze steady on the woman across from him. Cardinal Serene Liri. The title still felt foreign on her, like fresh ink not yet dried. And yet; she wore it with unnerving ease. Not like a symbol of devotion, but like a blade concealed beneath silk.

His eyes dipped momentarily to the collar at her throat. The polished metal caught the firelight, understated yet unmissable. It clashed with the image of the poised diplomat seated in his parlor. Or maybe it didn't. Maybe it was the perfect crown for a woman who knew how to disarm with obedience and rule from beneath the surface.

"I expected you to make your rounds in the cathedral halls, not walk into my home," Corven said at last, his voice cool, almost amused. Serene met his gaze without flinching. "Power comes in many forms, Chief Corven. Not all of it draped in crimson robes." His lip twitched. "No. Some of it wears a smile and lets men believe they're the ones in control."

"Exactly," she replied smoothly, crossing one leg over the other. "And I thought it only polite to introduce myself… formally."

The door to the parlor eased open. Elowen stepped in, composed, her dress crisp, posture straight. She took in the sight of Serene immediately; her eyes lingering for just a moment too long on the collar, on the deliberate grace in Serene's posture. No emotion showed on Elowen's face, but the subtle flick of her gaze to Corven was enough.

"Elowen," Corven said, handing her the envelope. "Our guest brings a proposal for the next Solstice taking place in Emberhold. She believes she's the perfect choice to speak on behalf of it." Elowen accepted the envelope, expression unreadable. "I'm sure she does." Serene smiled, just faintly. "It's all detailed inside. Trade routes, cultural negotiations, and my particular... influence with the city."

"I'm certain it's very thorough," Elowen said, turning to review the document. Corven looked back to Serene, his eyes sharp with interest. "Well then," he said, "convince me. Why should I trust the newest Cardinal to represent our interests in the most prosperous city on the entire Eryshae Peninsula?"

Serene reclined slightly in her chair, back still straight, like a woman trained to command attention in every setting; whether court, pulpit, or parlor. "I'm not merely the newest Cardinal," she said, voice silk-wrapped steel. "I'm one with firsthand experience in their inner markets. I've dined with their council, negotiated with their quartermasters, and watched what happens when people speak without knowing how their words taste."

Her gaze swept briefly to Elowen. "What Emberhold respects is leverage. Elegance. Precision. You can send a soldier or a scribe and they'll nod, smile, and quietly reroute trade to the Western Isles on the far side of the continent. Or…" She turned her eyes back to Corven. "You can send someone who already knows what they're afraid of losing. Someone who speaks the language of cost and pleasure."

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Elowen raised an eyebrow, still flipping through the wax-sealed pages. "And what exactly is it you think they're afraid of losing?" Serene's smile sharpened. "Their sense of control." That gave Elowen pause. She studied Serene more carefully now, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"I prefer to call it diplomacy." Before Corven could respond, the sudden sound of laughter; bright and unrestrained; broke through the room like sunlight slicing storm clouds.

The door to the parlor burst open as Sam and Vael stumbled in, their hands clasped, cheeks flushed, faces smudged with flour. Sam's apron was askew, and Vael's green curls had streaks of white flour dust in them like snowflakes tangled in stormclouds.

Sam grinned wide. "Sorry to interrupt. We, uh; had a situation with the cocoa." Vael nudged him in the ribs, laughing. "You flung half of it across the kitchen, you maniac."

"Well, you distracted me." Their joy was palpable, the air around them still crackling with something tender and raw; like warmth freshly pulled from an oven. They stopped when they realized who was in the room.

Sam blinked at Corven, then Elowen. And then… Serene. "Oh. Uh." Sam gave a quick half-bow. "Didn't realize it was a whole council of important people in here. We'll just; "

The room settled into a hum of blended energies; the scent of warm cocoa still clinging to Sam and Vael, the lingering sharpness of Serene's words, and the unspoken tension that laced every glance between the three seated figures.

Corven looked away from the flour-dusted couple, his eyes resting on Elowen. A shared silence passed between them, brief but decisive; not quite a conversation, but an understanding forged in countless moments just like this.

Then he turned to Serene. "You have the job." Serene didn't move, but her gaze sharpened, her chin rising slightly; a queen receiving a crown she knew was already hers. Corven continued, voice steady, measured. "You'll be the negotiator. The voice. The face Emberhold expects."

He turned to Sam and Vael, still standing near the doorway, flushed and wide-eyed. "But you two; " his gaze landed firmly on Sam; "will lead the entourage. You'll handle the arrangements, the logistics, and carry the final authority in my name."

Sam blinked. "Wait, I; me?"

"Yes," Corven said flatly, but not unkindly. "Vael will support you as your second. I trust you both to look after our interests. And I'll be assigning a full guard routine, worthy of a Chief's envoy." He leaned back, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, a flicker of satisfaction playing at the edges of his features.

"After all," he added, eyes dancing with dry amusement as he took in the mismatched group before him, "what better face to send to my dear brother Farouq than one he'll never see coming?"

Elowen rose to her feet, brushing invisible dust from the folds of her robe before leveling a look at Sam and Vael. "You two look like walking desserts. Go get cleaned up; both of you. You're leaving in the morning, and it's not a picnic. Let's get you on the road to Emberhold, and when you see your Uncle Farouq, make sure you send him our regards after he gets over your father's prank. I expect you packed, alert, and halfway civilized."

Sam gave a sheepish grin. Vael rolled her eyes but reached for his flour-smudged hand, tugging him back toward the hall. Once their laughter faded behind the door, Elowen turned back to Serene. Her expression shifted; no longer gentle or amused, but honed, sharp.

Corven stood beside her now, arms folded as he added with quiet steel, "You'll speak for us. For the Tribe. For the land that gave you hospitality. You'll wear the title of Cardinal, but you'll carry Eryshae's interests in your mouth like fire."

Elowen stepped closer, voice lower. "No hidden bargains. No clever pivots. No forgotten favors owed to shady villains. You stand for us, Emberhold is our key agricultural infrastructure and your proposal will do a lot of good for the Eryshae. Corven nodded slowly. "If there's one thing you must remember, it's this; Farouq and his wife Ginny will offer you gold and silk. They'll flatter. They'll tempt. But your loyalty doesn't belong to them."

"It belongs here," Elowen finished. "To these people. To this forest, and to the trust we've just given you. Our Eryshae Tribe relies on the agricultural production coming out of Emberhold." For a beat, all was still. Then Corven's tone softened, just a hair. "Do we have your word, Cardinal Serene?"

Serene stood a little taller, smoothing the front of her cloak where the black wax seal had rested. The collar still circled her throat like a brand, cool and heavy; an echo of the chains she no longer wore but had not forgotten. She let a single breath pass before she answered, her tone rich and precise.

"You have my word," she said, each syllable carefully measured. "I did not claw my way back from the edge of ruin to become a mouthpiece for Farouq. I am Cardinal now, but I was forged here; in your fire, under your scrutiny."

Her gaze drifted from Elowen to Corven, then back again, unwavering. "I understand what it means to wear your trust. I won't squander it.

There was a pause, and then something flickered beneath the surface of her expression; defiance tempered by grace. "Let them drape me in silks. Let them offer gold. I know who I am. And I know who I represent." She bowed her head slightly; not subservient, but deliberate, a formal gesture of acknowledgment. "I will not forget."

As the conversation drew to a close, Serene offered a final, practiced smile; one that did not quite reach her eyes. With a small bow of her head, she turned toward the parlor doors, her cloak catching the low light like ink against flame. The silver collar at her throat gleamed as she walked, but her steps were sure, unhurried, even regal.

"Chief. Chieftess," she said smoothly as parting, glancing once at Elowen, then allowing her gaze to rest briefly on Corven. "I look forward to proving your confidence is not misplaced."

With that, she slipped from the room.

Later… Back at the Eberflame Mansion. The thick doors shut behind her with a muted click. The guards posted at the front gave her a quiet nod, and Serene strode through the estate halls with a deliberate calm. Her mind retraced every word exchanged in the parlor, every flicker of expression she had caught between Corven and Elowen.

When she entered the room where Master Durnan waited, the scent of burning incense hung low in the air; amber, woodsmoke, and a hint of something darker. He sat in a chair near the hearth, one leg crossed over the other, fingers steepled as if he'd been waiting just for her.

She came to a stop a few paces away and offered a subtle, elegant bow of her head. "The meeting is concluded," she began. "They've agreed to the proposal." Durnan raised a brow. "And you?"

"I am to speak on behalf of the Chief and Chieftess as the newest Cardinal." Her tone carried a quiet pride, but it was restrained; held close like a blade beneath her sleeve. "Sam will lead the entourage. Vael will accompany him. I've been tasked with ensuring Eryshae's national interests remain paramount."

Durnan regarded her for a long moment, his eyes shadowed but keen. "Did he question the collar?" A breath. "He noticed," she admitted, "but said nothing. Elowen did not miss it either."

"And still… they gave you the role." Serene finally allowed herself a small, ironic smile. "I told them I didn't survive to become Farouq's puppet. They believed me." Durnan stood slowly and walked to her side. His fingers reached out; not to remove the collar; but to rest lightly on it, a reminder. A claim. "Of course they did. They see the weapon I've crafted. When you get to Emberhold, Ruwan will have your next set of orders ready."

Serene didn't flinch. "Then point me where you need me to strike."