Nar 13, 229: Heir One Moment, Gone in a Flash

Heir One Moment, Gone in a Flash
Summary: Tyrel and Aidan discuss the wedding of Hadrian and Emma. They are joined by a pair who are not what they appear.
OOC Date: July 15, 2014
Related: None
Players:
Tyrel Aidan Ciarrah 
Throne Room
The feature of the Throne Room of Darfield Castle that draws most eyes immediately is the magnificent throne, raised on a dais at the far end of the room. The Kilgour Family coat of arms, passed down from father to son through the centuries, occupies a place of honor above the royal throne.
A carpet of red softens the path down the center of the white marble floor. To each side of the carpet, stand tall silver vases of Stargazer Lilies and Irises, their heady scent drifting through the air. The cool marble walls have been draped with mingling swathes of purple and silver silk, with touches of white for smooth contrast. Set about the room, tall silver candelabras hold long purple tapers, their soft glow gleaming on the rug and silks. On the balcony above, more swathes of purple and silver silk have been draped.
To the side, there is an almost hidden stairway to the Hall of Chambers. Rioga guards stand on either side of this door, at all hours.
It is day 13 of the month of Nar, 229 2E

A missive has been sent requesting that Aidan pay visit to the throne room when his schedule allows. Tyrel has been sitting the throne for the better part of the day, his Queen joining him from time to time as her schedule and that of the children allows.

The throne room grows ever more sparse, with each passing day some small effect is removed. A tapestry, decoration or rug which no longer suits Tyrel's taste. The room, once almost garish with glitter and effect, has become somewhat sterile and the now often bare floor causes the footsteps of those who enter to echo.

Aidan is announced to the Throne room by the heralds, waiting just a pause for such formal introductions to be undertaken before his confident strides carry him across the span of the room, boots clipping now against the echoing of the sparsely adorned tiles. Aidan's stature is healthy as are his senses as his eyes are on the swivel to assess whose in the room to hear the formalities of this meeting. At the end of his approach, he bows low to honour the King, straightening with the appropriate measures of salute and respect to pay homage to the ruler of Mobrin. "Your Majesty," spoken easily, many years practiced, though there is little emotion behind it, more sterile as the room reflects. Business like and matter of fact.

There now, Ciarrah is seated at his side, her lips tilted in a half smile as she speaks in an aside to one of the nursemaids in charge of the care of their small brood of children. After the latest crisis is deflected, she turns her attention to the King and the smile hitches wider, at least marginally so. "It seems your little sister is having a wonderful time teasing our sons." Genuine affection tints the tone of her voice. Hearing the echo of steps her attention is given more fully to the man approaching.

Tyrel nods, "Duke Aidan, welcome. A seat is being brought for you." The servants had already moved off to fetch it, "If you should care for refreshment give word. I wished for a brief conversation regarding Lady Emma, and to speak with you regarding the recent naval concerns."

Tyrel smiles to Ciarrah, "That is good, being teased by Kilgour women at a young age grants a great deal of strength in later life."

Aidan tips his head at the welcomed offer of a chair. Standing before the King was expected, though it seemed a chair meant for prolonged discussions and it would be a relief to sit. Until the chair is retreived, he waves off the need for refreshments, "I appreciate the offer but I just had my fill of refreshments before coming." He puts his one hand behind him, to rest on the small of his back, eyebrow twitching upward at the mention of Lady Emma and naval concerns. "As you wish, Your Majesty," voice still dead pan, expressing nothing.

The topic of conversation brings little reaction from Ciarrah, though surprised she is, when the matter of Lady Emma Mowbray is announced. Lips twitch at the response of the King, though she grants him only a brief glance and softly spoken words. "Is that where it came from?" It is rhetorical, not needing an answer, and her attention immediately centers back on the Duke of Lakeshire.

As the chair is brought Tyrel broaches the topic, "The matter with Lady Emma is a small thing, I should hope, and I only wish to be sure that whatever terms were arranged for her marriage between yourself and her elder brother were clear and that I should not expect protest from Mowbray regarding the disinheritence of Hadrian. It seemed to me that all were clear regarding the matter but I should like to know ahead if protest should be expected."

A shadow of ire rips across Aidan's hazel eyes, for an instance. Nothing outwardly other than the glint in his eye would suggest he's broken his stoic address to the King, a perceptive eye would certainly have to dig deep behind the mask of the Duke of Lakeshire to recognize it. As the matter is outlined, for a moment, Aidan says nothing. Then: "No arrangement was made between myself and Baron Eldan, may he rest in peace. I had not even considered the idea beyond the potential fancy that Lord Hadrian seems to exhibit for most women. At one point, courtship was briefly discussed with Hadrian, but it went no further than that, Your Majesty. It was Hadrian's own doing to proceed to arrange his own match, without the permission of his Head of House. Hence, why he no longer has a House." Clear, precise, no bull shit attitude.

Her own place is to remain silent and listen, and at the moment, for the moment, Ciarrah complies with her role. The question from the King is a commonplace one, though the reply is far from it, considering that ever so brief flash of ire. Tucking that knowledge away for now, she studies the Duke rather openly, not bothering to hide her open curiosity nor does she disguise as anything than what it is. The point blank delivery belies that look she had seen so it only interests her further.

Tyrel reaches down and lifts the sowrd of kings from his lap, he rises, and slips it into the hangar that holds the blade along his spine. "You will excuse my need for movement." The king moves along the front of the dias, "Indulge me in a clarification, Duke Aidan. I was under the impression that Hadrian had your permission to be wed, but in doing so he was displeasing you and was to lose the duchy for his choice. I believe I just heard from you that your permission was never given, which leads me to wonder how it is that Lord Hadrian is now wed."

Aidan's eyes watch the sword but otherwise revert back to Tyrel. Ciarrah was considered in time and if only for an instant, to ensure she was not readying her own retort to his words. Aidan has yet to sit. He remains standing, one arm held respectfully behind his back, if noticed, to be his sword arm. The left, hangs stiff and poised at his side. "How Lord Hadrian married is unknown to me, for I was not invited to bear witness nor would I have attended even if granted invite. You may wish to inquire which Temple bore the blessings upon their union, for it was not a union blessed by my hand." Here he pauses, his tone that of the Duke of Lakeshire, no flexibility, wisdom, wit, ironfisted, "You will find no shred of parchment that has signed and sealed this union properly, between noble Houses." A beat, "From where I am standing, Your Majesty, House Mowbray tried to leverage themselves above and beyond their station, by wedding one of the Good Baron's daughters to … Lord Hadrian, without my consent. I would now request compensation for it, for the slight is a grievous insult to my Household and the authority of your Kingdom and its Laws." His eyes glint again, "It is a sloppy move to gain power and I have thus dealt what blow I can, by disinheriting Lord Hadrian from anything of the Duchy. Anything else, Your Majesty, will have be ruled by your hand."

Once Tyrel rises, Ciarrah quickly divides her attention between the two. Tyrel, by reputation, has never been predictable and Aidan was more of an unknown to her. When it comes out that someone had given false truths to the King himself, she stiffens slightly, awaiting the explanation from the Duke, holding her tongue of course.

Tyrel measures the dias with the length of his stride, pivoting and returning. "By my understanding it was within the temple of Stormvale, though it may be that a great deal of prevarication has led me to a less than ideal understanding of matters. I will be inquiring into the matter and will have answers from the temple shortly. I will consider such restitution as may be required once I have such documents as the temple accepted to bless this marriage." He touches his fingers together as he walks, steepling them in front of himself. "As I can speak no further on the subject without information, other than expressing my displeasure and frustration which is not yours to bear, we will move to discussing the matter Lord Eoin brought to my attention. Have you heard word of the creature that attached the ships at sea?"

At the moment, the nursemaid returns and speaks quietly to the Queen who immediately rises. "If you will excuse me," though she gives no explanation, nor does she offer apology. Instead, she gives Tyrel a quiet look before nodding to the Duke politely. "It was a pleasure." Pivoting on her foot, she turns to walk out of the room, her pace unhurried and regal, posture straight.

Tyrel looks to his wife, nods, then begins pacing again.

Aidan says no further and grouses no further. His point made. Except, "You must know, Your Majesty, I intended for my Heir to wed from the Kundari bloodlines or that of Skingaard. I have even learned the words of Kundari to make the arrangements smooth and so that they would not best me. My eldest daughter is married to Sir Robben, tying my House to Weston through that marriage. Any marriage with Mowbray would've been, as you can see on the larger picture, useless as a political match and would only benefit one side. As much as I respected Eldan, for I fought alongside the man, we never made comment to one another in this regard."
A flex of his jaw, "Though, this was Hadrian's last betrayal to his family, for I gave him many a chance to prove himself and he decided to instead, dishonour himself, such as the time he coerced Lady Emma away from her guards for what I hear to have been… hours perhaps." Still standing, still impassive, proud, resolute, "You understand, this was to remain an internal affair, but with Lord Hadrian making threats against my wife and I, I could not see it fit to keep him titled in Lakeshire. I will defend the Duchess and my family, Your Majesty, I recommend you do the same. Hadrian is erratic."
The Duke takes a steadying breath, as matters turn to the topic of monsters in the sea. A brow raised, "I have only heard of the beacons failing to alarm the shorelines. Matters of creatures attacking ships is a story familiar to all sailors. A story, yet your words make it seem as if words have come off the pages."

You say, "I was aware of your intent to pursue the Kundari or Skingaardian match, and I agree with your evaluation and commented to that effect to Hadrian. However I was under the impression that you had given him his choice of the matter and your agreement on his choice, with the knowledge that he would not follow you as Duke. His indescretion was known and I questioned Lady Emma on the matter who indicates she resisted his advance." Tyrel pauses, "This course of discussion is of no benefit to me now, I will speak with the temple as quickly as a represenative can be summoned." He turns and measures off the dias again. "The stories though, as most do, have a seed of truth about them. I suspect it was one of Inouv's creatures, and I hope it to be the only of the type, but the dire creatures are not rumored to be their own breed. Lord Eoin described it as an octopus or squid grown to dire size as the other beasts twisted by Inouv's workings have been told of in the past.""

"If the implication was there, it was to test his resolve to your Kingdom, your Majesty. For the greater good, your Father had tried to secure a bond with the Kundari, as did Baron Eldan. IF… Hadrian had the best intentions for his King and his Kingdom in mind, he had the opportunity to return to me and ask for forgiveness. Instead, he weds, without consent. My decision is irrevocable, not only on these grounds, but of several others in fact. Inaction on his part when the Duchy needed his aid, threats and dishonour given to my wife, Duchess Nylie Kincaid nee Kilgour. Insults I could justify nor rest easy when my time comes for your future Kingdom and for the future of all." He nods, "I will continue to pursue either relation now, with Bowen declared as my Heir. There is still a chance to foster alliances between further Kingdoms. A must."
Aidan is standing before the king, one hand behind his back. The King is pacing and speaking between matters of marriage and creatures of the sea. It is the creatures of the sea that Aidan now turns to, "Perhaps they do." Suggesting that currently, Aidan does not believe or does not admit to his belief. He says nothing else in regards to these matters, for nothing has been asked of him.

The door opens and the guards permit another to enter. She is an old woman who is wrinkled and portly. With an easy gait she makes her way into the room. She is dressed in a white robe that matches her hair and what seems like ancient eyes as blue sky on clear summers day peer out from bushy eyebrows. A smile touches her face and makes her grandmother face more wrinkled. She comes to a stop and stand in the back and for now is just listening.

"Bowen has shown himself quite capable, I wish you luck of the match. Of the two, the Skingaardian would be of the greatest current benefit though the Kundari may be the easier to arrange." Tyrel continues his pacing. "I have, from many reliable sources, reports that a creature of that type was able to sink two vessels at sea. One of ours and one of the Laniveer fleet. In histories the creatures that Inouv twists gain a poor disposition and a twisted form of intelligence but seem to remain true to their own natures. Therefore I do not expect such a creature to be found in the Lake but I wish you to send word to have your boats on the watch for anything unexpectedly large in the lake." Tyrel looks over towards the door as the guards usher in the grandmotherly type. "If you come with word of the wedding your haste is impressive, if you are here on other matters then state your business."

On the heels of the elderly woman comes a man dressed in robes, though he does not visibly touch the older woman, he is there for her support. He appears lithe and somewhat muscular, perhaps a temple guard. Though he is unarmed, he looks quite capable of being able to aid and assist without need of a weapon. He also remains standing back until they are addressed.

Aidan quite simply nods to the further discussion of arrangements. Yet another internal matter but which Tyrel would greatly depend his Kingdom upon in the future, when the last of the old guys fade away and give the world over to the new generations. As for the creatures of the sea, Aidan tilts his head slightly at the mention of there not being any such threat in the Lake. His seems uncomfortable for a split second, some retort waiting yet not spoken of. Any who know of Lakeshire would know of their beliefs toward the Guardian of the Lake. Still, that was also myth and superstitions. Fact was something completely different. "Of course, Your Majesty." That is all there is too it, for now. The King's look toward the door also has him pivots, regarding the figure in the white robes.

Tyrel watches Aidan as he speaks, "Duke Aidan, it will serve both of us a great deal better if you would speak your mind completely. There are few enough who have the will to do so, and fewer still with wisdom enough that I tolerate it." He then directs his attention back to those in white.

"Your majesty, if I may add to what you have just said." The woman offers a proper greeting to the king and the Duke. Her voice despite her age is rich and resonates through the room. And with her voice she brings life into the very room. "Time is more precious than all the oceans in a vault." She moves forward. "I pray you that the eight have been keeping you well. Good Duke it is a pleasure to meet you."

Aidan turns back to Tyrel when directly urged to speak his mind completely, "Yes. As you know, Lakeshire is steeped in its own traditions, following the tales of the Guardian of the Lake and the Lady of the Lake. Much of the culture has been inspired by these beliefs and traditions. People always speak of strange fogs, rescues upon the Lake by some unknown entity… Tales that would have you in awe and others in fear. I have… had a few occasions in my life where I have thought to glimpse the Guardian myself, but, these things could never be explained in fact. Though we do practice the Eight and believe the Guardian to be a spirit left by the Eight in some way to protect the people of the Lake." Though clearly, his eyes turn to the figure in the white robe, who would have better grip of spiritual matters than Aidan Kincaid. "I divert to the wisdom of the Enlightened." He dips his head toward the old woman, now that she speaks.

Tyrel nods, "I am familiar with some portion of those traditions. If the lake does indeed have a guardian then see to it he is not caught unawares." His attention then returns to the woman in white. "I require explanation of the marriage between Lord Hadrian Kincaid and Lady Emma Mowbray which I have been told was performed by the temple. Are you able to speak on that matter?"

Remaining silent himself, the man in the robes steps forward as the woman he accompanies speaks. He regards her with something akin to awe, though the look is brief as he regards the two men in the room, the King and the Duke. His face holds intelligence and a peace that is lacking in some, a man who knows what he is about and is comfortable in his own skin.

"Then it is fortuitous that we are here to speak is it not. We were here to see your lovely wife your majesty. I can tell you this that it was but he is but a minor lord and has been disinherited. The contract has been signed between him and his now wife's family." The woman points. "Clearly there is no wrong done, why is this an issue?" She asks. That sense of peace pools around her like sunlight pouring through a thick canopy of trees.

Tyrel says, "To my understanding, you have the order of events incorrectly stated. The heir of lakeshire is far from a minor lord, and up until the temple performed a marriage without consent of the head of his household he was not disinherited. This seems wrong to me, therefore I have an issue."

Standing in the position of an at ease soldier, the male of the duo from the temple regards the two men without apology and without speaking. He listens though, to the words spoken, the look in his eyes is one of keen intellect. It softens as it rests on the elderly woman though, hands clasped loosely at his back.

Aidan clears his throat, "Your Majesty, you spoke of wanting to understand the arrangement between House Lakeshire and House Mowbray, so that House Mowbray was not at a disadvantage. I told you there had been none, none that had been vindicated by me." He turns to the Enlightened, squinting a bit, "The timeline … confusion happens, especially where there are greater problems at hand." Or is he slipping up in his old age? It's bound to happen. "The Enlightened speaks truthfully. I released him as Heir and all responsibility during a family meeting. Though the public announcement was delivered when he sealed his fate and ignored his final chance to change his mind, as I said." Clear as mud?! Kincaids.

Tyrel looks back at Aidan, "To my understanding, Duke Aidan, while you can release him of his responsibility to you, you can not so easily relieve yourself of your responsibility to him. He is a member of your family and you are the head of his household, to marry he requires your permission. Did he have it or did he not?" Tyrel begins his pacing again, "I will later disabuse the temple of the notion that there is such a thing as a nobleman who should be treated as a commoner, but for the moment I wish to focus on this singular matter."

The Illuminated eyes begin to glow softly like willow-o-wisps and she looks at the King and smiles. "Then you may have issue your majesty, we it had to let it take place and it is bless and sign and cannot be undone." Her voice becomes very different yet the sense of life and warmth still fills the room. "After all that guardian of the Lake knew it was time. It was said by the Dukes own mouth that if he was to marry Emma then he who is not worthy was to be disinherited. The path was created for the boy. The boy now has another choice to make." Her voice continues to resonate. "Will he walk the path or take another. Nothing in the future is absolute. There are choices and paths to take, for each individual." She turns those glowing eyes upon the Aidan. "Thank you for speaking plainly and with truth. Now you have a choice to make Aidan of Lakeshire and this choice of yours will resonate." Her gaze goes back to the King. "You your majesty also have a choice to make, and that choice with resonate."

"GUARDS!" Tyrel bellows. "HAVE THIS CREATURE TAKEN AND PRIESTS OF THE TEMPLE BROUGHT IMMEDIATELY, HER EYES GLOW AS THAT OF A WITCH!""

"As a Father, he had my sympathy and I wish him well," here he looks a little conflicted before the mask of a firm ruler comes back, "As a Duke, Head of a House, member of the greater council of this Kingdom, he did not," Aidan stands firm. To him, there is nothing more to discuss. That is all he gets to say in the matter, since the Illuminated has eyes glowing. Well that's different. The bellow of the King does not move him from the focused attention he earns from the woman. His hand lowers to his side, dignified. His own two guards who he brought with him will come charging in as well at the bellowing. Aidan, doesn't bellow. He doesn't make a sound. He just walks between the her and the King.

Hearing the two sides, the Priest, or is he a priest? Stands in the same way as he was before, though his shoulders stiffen as the King begins to challenge the right for the marriage and he finally begins to speak only to close his mouth abruptly and step in front of the older woman as soon as the King begins shouting. He stands to his full height. "Do not send invitation and then dishonor it by misjudging our Illuminated." He speaks calmly, serenely.

"Is this your choice Tyrel Kilgour." The woman says very quietly. Still that sense of warmth and life remain. "Aidan is that the path and choice you wish to walk and the path you wish to set forth for both you and your son?" She turns and looks at the man with her and she smiles and puts hand upon his shoulder. "It is time."

Tyrel reaches above his head and draws his sword holding it before him while the Rioga converge. "If they offer no resistence escort them to a room where they can await the temple coming to collect them. If they offer resistence kill them, I am done with members of my court dying due to laxity." He instructs his guards. Then turns his attention to the pair, "Remain silent and go as directed."

Tyrel looks to his guards again, "If they speak, kill them."

"Irrevocable," Aidan says again, "As -the- Duke of Lakeshire, I will keep my people from destruction. Hadrian is a man of inaction, who claims poor against me, on the seat of the Duchy with a woman who has little been to court and cannot stay seated in her horse, will destroy the very land and sacred bonds held there for generations beyond. I will not turn my back on my King… for a spoiled selfish bastard whose run out of chances." A quietness in his eyes, "As a father, I lost a son, but I know it is just one of the sacrifices I've made to be strong leader for Mobrin. The Duchy of Lakeshire will stand and will continue to be managed by the Kincaid who can take it and -keep- it. For now, that is me, Aidan Romyn Kincaid the Third." And Tyrel might get to see why Callem favoured this man… He stands undeterred in the face of opposition, a man of leadership. He hears the King behind him giving orders to cease them and kill them if they speak, "You would be wise to heed His Majesty and return to your Temple."

"Do not worry Aidan, Cri has blessed you again and she will continue to bless you." The illuminated then cries out. "Blessed be those that follow the light and may Cri protect us from all blades and harm from those that are ignorant." She calls out. "May Alasair confuse those who would shed blood this day out ignorance." She then reaches out to take the arm of the man who is beside her. Then man mutters a prayer and they disappear into a wisp of smoke.

Tyrel looks non-plussed for a count of several heartbeats then says to his guards, "You failed to kill them, however I do not think this is a failing to which I can hold you accountable. Return to your posts." He looks then to Aidan, "Duke Aidan… I suspect those were not the priests for which I sent."

Aidan furrows his brows at the pointed issue of his blessedness, tipping his chin up, eyes widening at the cry that shouts out. He does not move to rush in with blade drawn as the guards likely do, he just walks around the spot the pair hold until they vanish up into smoke. That makes him rush the center of where they had stood, shoving aside a guard to blink at the empty space. Then, wildly, he turns each guard to face him, pulling back hoods or helms to see their faces. No, the pair in the middle did not use a trick of the eye to dip into disguise so utterly. He searches then for a hidden trap door, kicking and stomping on the space that held them. The man is eager to realize a -rational- explanation of the wisp of smoke and the parlor trick. He points his own guards to check the curtains and check the windows, "Watch for signs of hidden latches or their faces. You saw them, -learn- them. They will be found." There are only two of them, but he's sure some of Tyrel's guards will do the same. A turn to look over at Tyrel, then back to the spot the pair had stood and told him he was blessed, grumbling, "Since when does Cri or any of the Eight bless me…" he kneels down, touching the floor as if he was searching for powder or any traces of -rational- signs of science to explain it. "With out a trace is impossible…" he rises now, troubled by this, "Sea monsters and witches…" he laughs, manically, "No. I don't believe they were. But I believe they were the -ones- to marry my son to the Lady Emma." He glances back over his shoulder, letting the implication of that settle.

Tyrel says, "Calm yourself, Duke Aidan. Your laughter has a tone to it which I find unpleasant." Tyrel seats himself on the throne and lays the sword across his lap. "It is my understanding that without the blessings of the Eight you would not be, so I should think they have blessed you since your begining and will continue to do so until your end." Tyrel gestures for a bottle of mead to be brought. "If you require refreshment there is drink available."

"I do not believe in sea monsters and witches, your Majesty-" his tone hardened now, all laughter gone, "There is a rational explanation for this. Men and women do not just disappear. Beasts do not just rise up from myth to kill men in the hundreds." His eyes lift up to the ceiling, squinting, then back toward the walls, "Mirrors perhaps…" he says more to himself as if he was trying to puzzle it out, and of course, he has been unseated by what he had just seen. A hand lifted toward his forehead, fingers pinched and then draw across his brow, "I have been fortunate enough, then, to never hear them, even when I needed to hear of them the most, to see some sign. When I broke upon the floor when my first wife died… Yes, their tool of silence was most persuasive." He walks around the spot where the pair stood, as if trying to see further if there had been some way a person could just dissolve, hands on his sides, brows knitted, "This must be a tactic to distract us from something." He turns back toward Tyrel, "The Laniveer, they use methods to make Liquid Fire, witch craft in our realm, weapon in their own. This could have been…" he trails off and nods to the drink, "Yes. I'll have that drink now."

Tyrel gestures for a drink to be brought to Aidan as well. "I am not easily distracted, Duke Aidan." He gestures to a guard, "Have my wife and children brought to me, now." He then looks back to Aidan, "It appears that for both good and ill my family has the attention of the gods, and our kingdom follows suit."

Aidan returns to the spot the pair had been. There he studies again, a little more practiced and not so rushed. He inhales deeply and then licks his finger and drags it across the floor. At once he pulls his hand back and rises, "Shards of…" he turns his finger up to his eyes, "Glass perhaps. Or something else. Diamonds perhaps. And sulfur residue on the air." A look toward Tyrel, "There is a rational explanation for this, parlor tricks." He grunts, "You may not be easily distracted but there are known poisons that trick the mind and senses." He didn't feel anything either, but, hey, he didn't want to think about gods rumbling at him. "Then perhaps you should take up your father's pursuit and pray," he nods, "While I'll go speak to my scholars on this matter."

Tyrel says, "I fail to see why the actions of the gods would not be a rational explanation, but do as you wish, Duke Aidan." He drinks from his mead, "I will confirm the matters of the temple and the marriage when a proper representative of the temple is available. I will inform you whether the marriage is considered valid by the temple."

"Regardless Your Majesty," Aidan says as he moves himself to leave, "My decision stands, for many reasons beyond the marriage." He waves off the explanation of the gods, "Your Father had Faith enough for both of us. Let it stay that way. Pray for me if you pray at all." He turns after a bow and excuses himself.

Tyrel nods, "Your decision is yours to make, however I wish no bastards born.

In only the moment it takes for the guard to summon the family and Ciarrah arrives holding one boy and one girl while the nursemaid arrives holding one the twin boys, the young girl being Tyrel's little orphaned sister that the King and Queen are raising on their own. The babies are rubbing their eyes. "Your Majesty?" Ciarrah greets the king, confused.

As for faith, I have little need of it, the truth is often all to obvious to me." He looks to Ciarrah, "You will stay beside me for the time being, Ciarrah. A visitor who indicated she was to meet with you was less than forthright as to their nature."

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