"A messenger spirit today has confirmed that the Authority is en route to Elliven," Adeline declared.

The entire Court stirred at that news, murmurs of discontent from the established faction members drowning out the satisfied hums of the Freeblades.

Olivia surveyed the disappointed faces carefully, trying to remember those who seemed most resentful, and therefore most likely to take action.

This was the second of the weekly High Court meetings Olivia had attended alongside Adeline in the past few months. Sir Toren, previously the highest ranked knight in all of Elliven, had yet to reappear after his spontaneous disappearance (to Cadence's consternation). However, a Crown herald had arrived by sigil shortly after Olivia and her friends, bearing word that, as a knight-gallant, Adeline was to take Toren's place in the hag investigation.

Crown's order or no, however, Adeline lacked the sheer force of personality and power that had defined Sir Toren's time in the city. Political machinations that had gone dormant during the powerful knight's tenure had reappeared, prodding Adeline at every opportunity, openly defying the will of the Crown.

She had responded by beginning to invite additional parties to the High Court meetings. Now, she sat at the head of the massive, ringed Court table, flanked by Olivia to her right and Kenton to her left, silent reminders of the Argent Order's growing influence in the city. To Olivia's other side, the representatives of the Freeblades, the more liberal of the Court's factions, stretched a short distance around the table's curve–four noble sentinels, all of whom were still active in either the Wastes themselves or the guard stations, were there to support Sir Merrik Argias and Lady Tillibel of the Emerald Order.

The rest of the table–totalling nearly three-quarters of the High Court–was dominated by the established faction. When Olivia had last taken the time to study the Court's various parties and alliances, it had consisted of nine separate groups, all mired in an impossible to decipher tangle of agreements, favors, and debts. That had changed as the Crown started trying to take a heavier hand in the city, and much of the Court had closed ranks behind Lysander Gerrot, further consolidating the power of the city's strongest noble. Unlike the Freeblades, that party of conservative nobles refused to take on any specific name, instead claiming that they simply spoke for the Court as a whole. As such, the knights and Freeblades alike had taken to calling them the established party–or the Gerrot party, depending on the audience.

Lord Merrick's voice drew Olivia's focus over to the Freeblades. "Do we know when he's expected to arrive?"

The de facto leader of the more liberal Freeblades, Sir Merrick would've been considered quite conservative by the standards of much of the Realm. He was possibly the single largest human being Olivia had ever seen, a mountain of a man who would have outweighed Elway back in Jellis, even without the platemail Olivia had never seen him without. A great, dark, bristling beard made the noble appear as much bear as man, to the point that Olivia had absently wondered if he had some wraith blood in him.

Merrick was a soldier more than a sentinel, a veteran captain in the Terastian legion, where the endless flood of outsiders from the Umbral Wastes necessitated the militaristic strategies much of the Realm had left behind. He was a stern, no-nonsense man that Olivia thought she would've butted heads with in most situations–but he was also staunchly opposed to the power-hungry politics of Elliven's High Court, which made him an ally to the knights and the sentinels.

"We don't have any firm date, but we expect it will take his party in the vicinity of two months to arrive here," Adeline explained.

A sharp, nasal voice immediately asked, "Why the wait?"

Olivia turned a frown on Lord Beech Emmien. The slender, reedy man, dressed in a brown suit a little too sharply fitted to his spindly limbs to be strictly fashionable, looked down a pronounced beak of a nose at Adeline. Unlike Merrick, Emmien was a career politician, a self-involved noble who had left Dela in an attempt to become a power broker in Elliven. Previously, Olivia had been used to Emmien as an staunch opponent to Lord Gerrot, mostly because each man had stood in the way of the other's plans, but he had apparently abandoned that position, and now acted as one of Gerrot's highest ranking supporters.

Olivia and Kenton had both marked him as a likely problem. His complaints were obviously Gerrot's words, the skinny bureaucrat playing the risky game of gathering power by being the established party's voice, while Lysander quietly led from behind him.

"I haven't travelled the Flax Road in some time," Emmien continued, "but my understanding is that it should be fairly secured, by your own claims." The noble's tone made it clear what he thought of Olivia and Adeline's claims of what had transpired along the Flax Road. "A fast coach could have the Authority to Correntry's sigil station in a matter of weeks, if that."

"The Authority has decided to take a longer route to the city," Adeline explained, more calmly than Olivia would've been able to manage. As always, the beautiful knight's calm composure seemed to upset the established nobles as much as her actual words. "He's surveying the Cliff Road and Vital on his way here."

"Coincidentally leaving you in charge for months to come, or even longer?"

These words, spoken in a cultured, rolling baritone, came from Gerrot's right-hand man, who sat not far from the other lord, his fingers steepled neatly in front of him, in what the pompous patriarch likely thought was a portrait of reserved wisdom.

Olivia kept her gaze from moving to the speaker in question, not trusting herself to keep from glaring at Arthur Dennan. Instead, she focused on Lysander Gerrot himself, the single most influential and powerful man in Elliven's High Court.

He was a tall man, with a rare blend of poise, strength, and grace that could only come from a combination of blood and effort. His skin was slightly too pale for him to claim true goldblood status, but he had the dark blonde hair characteristic of Arsilet's elite class, worn in a long, straight cut. His features were familiar, an older, more refined version of his son's. Lysander kept a simple, functional rapier at his side, and though he hadn't fought in recent memory, rumor still named him the most dangerous swordsman in Elliven.

Of course, few in the city had seen Adeline fight.

Lysander Gerrot had come to the city just over a decade before, but he had quickly grown a power base rivalling most of the other factions, his political cunning and Expert level skills both elevating him to the peak of the High Court even before current events had further consolidated his power.

He sat directly opposite Adeline, Lords Emmien and Dennan flanking him just as Olivia and Kenton did Adeline, in what had to be an intentional maneuver.

He was their true opponent in all this, just as much so as the hags. Rumor said the Lysander could've ascended to Master and taken the Ducal Throne years before, but that he had intentionally abstained from it, as he preferred the High Court ruling the city, with his touch subtly spinning things in his favor. Merrick didn't have the subtlety for political games; Emmien was overbold; Dennan didn't have the strength to back up his bluster. Gerrot, though–Gerrot was subtle, canny, clever, and skilled.

"Once more, gentlemen," Adeline said, a hint of weariness creeping into her voice, "my current position in the city was not by my choice. I came to search for the Coven of Whispers. It is merely by the Crown's order that I hold my current position–and I would prefer the Authority to arrive quickly just as much as you all do."

"Or more, I'd wager." Kenton's mutter was so quiet that Olivia doubted anyone besides her and Adeline had heard it, but she still allowed herself a small smile. Kenton Everbright was a true goldblood, raised and tested in the cutthroat environment of Arsilet's elites, and seemed to see the politics of Elliven as crude and laughable in comparison.

As the knight's jokes helped to keep Adeline and Olivia's tempers under control during these meetings, that perspective was more than appreciated.

The established party shifted in the series of head tilts and eye rolls that passed for scoffing in a formal meeting. "And how does the search for this supposed coven of yours progress?" Emmien sniped at Adeline. "Even the Crown's patience must be wearing thin of your failure after all this time."

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Olivia found herself gritting her teeth, trying, and failing, to keep composure as well as Adeline. Emmien knew as well as the rest of the Court that Adeline hadn't been able to dedicate herself to the search for the hags as she had originally planned, the High Court instead keeping her busy trying to wrangle them.

Kenton twitched a hand, the subtle sign signalling that he was prepared to answer that query.

"I'll allow Sir Kenton and Lady Tillibel to provide an update on that front, as I've entrusted the search primarily to them."

The young SIlver Knight and the elderly Emerald Knight stood on cue, the marked contrast between their appearances not extending to the respectful formality with which they described their efforts to categorically search the glades of the Arboreal Wastes, coordinating with the sentinels to search for the hags. Tillibel's report made it clear that no small amount of delay was due to the continual pushback of sentinels like Allid, the scions of nobles from Gerrot's faction who quietly refused to properly assist in the hunt.

"In short," Kenton concluded, "we currently believe it likely that, in the wake of the losses and failures the coven has suffered over the past year, they have retreated to a more hidden and defensive posture, gathering their strength before they attempt another decisive strike."

"Or," Arthur Dennan added, his tone calm and collected, slathered with honey by his gift of eloquence, "this entire hag threat of yours has been blown wildly out of proportion and this coven, if it even exists, has already been weakened beyond the ability to continue."

"And the abomination?" Merrik asked, his own voice as gruff and direct as the glare he had aimed, not at Dennan, but at Gerrot himself. "Or do you doubt its existence, too?"

"Oh, the abomination clearly did exist," Dennan replied. Olivia didn't need to look at the man that had been her father to know that even as he spoke, a smug smile would be spreading across his face. Merrik was a dangerous man, but he was too blunt, too straight-forward, to keep up with Gerrot's machinations, and he had walked right into Dennan's trap. "But, as it has not reappeared in nearly a season now, it's just as likely that the coven, weakened and broken by the heroic efforts of our brave knights, can no longer beckon such a being into the Realm."

"And that opinion comes from your deep and rich knowledge of magical workings, I would assume?" Kenton's drawl drew a round of mutters, the established faction once more drowning out any support from the Freeblades.

"I think that's enough for today," Adeline said.

"Agreed."

That was the first time Lysander had spoken into the course of the meeting, and it only served to further undermine Adeline's influence, quietly implying that she didn't have the authority to end the Court's assembly without Gerrot's approval.

Olivia narrowed her eyes, studying the man. Next to him, Emmien begrudgingly took his seat, while Arthur relaxed back in his own, clearly satisfied with his own contributions for the day. Between them, Gerrot's face stayed still and stoic, not betraying the arrogance or condescension that betrayed itself on the faces of his supporters.

"With any luck," Gerrot continued, "our next assembly will be more productive. I wish our knights best of luck in their efforts."

Olivia found her hands clenching into tight fists in her lap, out of sight underneath the rim of the table. That sentence alone had done more to devalue the knights in the eyes of whatever moderate nobles were left than the entire rest of the meeting–that Gerrot had smoothly based the meetings lack of productivity on Adeline and her allies, that he implied their need for luck, that he had continued to take a place above even the Crown's assigned herald.

Yes. Emmien and even Dennan were merely distractions. Lysander Gerrot was the true threat to Elliven's success in the burgeoning conflict with the Coven of Whispers.

#

"Well, that went poorly," Kenton muttered. The three knights walked close together as they left the assembly hall, walking briskly through the halls of Highcastle.

"Worse than I had hoped but better than I feared," Adeline said.

"How so?" Olivia asked, unable to imagine it going any worse.

"They're still trying to undermine me and my reputation."

"And that's… a good thing?" Oli asked, baffled.

"Of course it is," Kenton said. "Gerrot's faction is working on a clock. Every assembly they waste trying to demean us, frustrating as it may be, is time they're not openly trying to claim control of the city."

"Once the Authority arrives, their games won't matter anymore," Adeline agreed. "We're just buying time until he gets here."

"Whenever he decides that's worth his time," Kenton added with an eye roll.

Olivia started to ask why the Crown's Authority would be taking so long to get to Elliven, but she was interrupted by another voice inserting itself into the conversation.

"Lady Argent, Sir Everbright," a smooth, familiar baritone greeted the knights. "And who's with you but my prodigal son."

Everything, everyone, froze for a second, a brief moment of crystallized pain.

Olivia looked up and there, of course, was Arthur Dennan, the man who had once been her father. His salt-and-pepper hair was a shade lighter than it had when she left, but was as neatly trimmed and coiffed as ever. His well-groomed goatee was a bit darker, as if he had taken to dyeing it. His eyes were just as calculating, his manner just as precise, his suit just as sharp and fashionable, dark gray under crisp white. The brooch on his lapel was new, though, and Olivia immediately placed it as a new ensouled item.

So, he had leveled up. Another product of his apparently fruitful relationship with Gerrot, no doubt.

A small coterie surrounded him, lesser nobles of around his general age. Once, they would've been rivals to Arthur's own limited prestige, but that had apparently changed over the course of the past year.

"Dennan…" Adeline's voice was low, threatening.

"How dare you?" Kenton asked, his own poise vanished.

"How dare I greet my child? I see no reason why that would be of offense to you and yours, good knights."

"You have no child here," Adeline said. Her voice was strident, confident, but it sounded distant to Olivia, muffled, like a conversation in another room. "Olivia Argent does not belong to any family but the Argent Order itself."

"Oh? Curious, then, that he still greets his brother and sister as such." Fa- Arthur's voice, of course, was as clear as ever, every word stabbing into Olivia's soul.

"Oh, I do wonder why she'd be willing to associate with them, and not you," Kenton said. "Truly, it's a mystery."

At some point, Olivia realized he had turned her eyes down to the floor, and she found it hard to look up.

"You know exactly what you did, Dennan," Adeline snarled.

"That's Lord Dennan, Lady Argent."

Adeline took a sharp step forward, one hand falling to her belt, within inches of her sword. "Very well then, Lord Dennan. You know what you did. And the next time you insist on insulting one of my knights so boldly-"

"You'll what? Challenge me? As you are no doubt aware, Lady Argent, I'm no battle-gifted–but I assure you, my patron would be more than happy to champion my cause, should you choose to call me to task for a mere… ah, slip of the tongue."

Violence went from simmering to positively boiling in the air, hot enough that even Olivia, shell-shocked and stunned as she was, couldn't ignore it.

They're not openly trying to take control. So Kenton had thought, at least. Unless the entire assembly had just been a facade, a distraction to wear Adeline's patience thin enough that the right words, at the right time…

Adeline's hand moved to the pommel of her sword–but Olivia quickly reached out and grabbed her by the wrist.

Adeline turned, silver eyes wide with surprise, and Olivia just shook her head. "Let's go, Adel."

"Oli… He-"

"I know," Olivia said, her voice dead and monotone in her own ears. She didn't so much as look at Dennan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "It doesn't matter. Let's go. Now."

"Taking orders from a mere Apprentice now, Lady Adeline?"

"Now, Adel. Let's go."

Adeline gave Dennan one last look, no doubt a fierce glare that failed to so much as shake the self-satisfied windbag, and then the three silver knights turned as one, footsteps clipping the stone floor in unison as they briskly left the Highcastle behind for another day.

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