perfect timing to interest the Colletran nobility. Hardly sparing a glance toward their enemies, the Colletrans complimented one another on their armorers and tailors, or stared up at the clouds and languidly predicted rain.
From the black shadows of the mountains, another fig-ure came: a man mounted on a sour, high-stepping hip-pogriff with feathers of charcoal-bronze. The hippogriff hissed at a noble's horse, baring its serrated beak in spite. The horse instantly retreated like a whipped cur, spilling its rider's wine across an immaculate silk tabard.
The hippogriff's rider wore a light armor of black, vel-vet-covered steel. While his hostile mount spread its wings and kept the other animals at bay, the rider slipped off his barbute helmet and savaged the assembled nobles with his gaze.
Almost ignoring the man's entrance, Colletro's Blade Council continued with its wine and cheese.
Curbing ner-vous mounts, the riders refreshed their glasses and final-ly bid their colleague a good day.
"Ugo Svarezi, why how good of you to come." A young, slim Blade Captain let his words drip with practiced irony. "We have so missed your refreshingly innovative conversation."
Faces quirked up into wry, venomous little smiles. For his part, Svarezi ignored the voices all around him as he would scorn the prattle of brainless little birds. Coldly leaning forward in his saddle, the man turned dark eyes toward the valley floor.
"Three villages, a salt mine-and now the Sun Gem, too. The pride of Colletro, tossed into the dust. For fear of a few sword cuts, Colletran honor is pawned."
Svarezi's speech was met with looks of amused, defen-sive scorn; his voice rang harsh from shouting across end-less parade grounds-a voice more fit for a fishmonger than a courtier. Prince Ricardo, dark, lean, and polished by a lifetime of diplomatic maneuvers, laid an armored hand upon the arm of an angry colleague and turned patient eyes to his rebellious captain.
"The laws of war, Blade Captain Svarezi, work for all of us. This year, Colletro has lost; next year, our armies shall triumph again. You must learn to see these minor set-backs as merely part of a larger game."
"A game." Ugo Svarezi turned to reveal a battered, sav-age face with skin as pale as carrion bone. "A game has an end. This-this yearly posturing has no purpose except its own continuance. To preserve the game, you have lost sight of its final goal!"
"Ah." The prince held out a hand and felt it filled with a chilled glass of wine. "And what, pray tell, is our unre-membered goal?"
"To win the game, my lord. To destroy the other king-doms and seize the board as our own."
Nobles drew in weary breaths and exchanged glances of bored despair. Prince Ricardo sipped at his wine, paused in thought, then swiveled calculating eyes toward Svarezi.
"We are aware, Captain, of the imperatives of our game. Pray allow us to pursue our victory in the way that suits u-"
"Through accountants? Through unfought battles and untried swords? Through pretty maneuvers-like lead sol-diers across a playroom floor!" Svarezi's sudden violence struck at the assembly like a storm. The man crashed a hand against his saddle as he roared his words in rage. "We could have taken them! We could have destroyed their army if any of you had been man enough to charge!"
Young Blade Captains slapped hands to sword hilts and surged forward to defend their honor-only to be halted by an easy motion of the prince's hand. Duels resulted in deaths, and deaths resulted in the realign-ment of voting blocks. The prince preferred to keep the peace with deterrents made of words.
"It is a pity, Svarezi, that you fail to see the true genius of our war. A true gamesman commits to dangerous moves only when the advantage is on his side." Ricardo, Prince-elect of Colletro, speared a piece of cheese with the point of his poniard. "Why risk all on a single throw, when proper patience will bring us to our prize?"
Svarezi's hippogriff gave a sour,
From the black shadows of the mountains, another fig-ure came: a man mounted on a sour, high-stepping hip-pogriff with feathers of charcoal-bronze. The hippogriff hissed at a noble's horse, baring its serrated beak in spite. The horse instantly retreated like a whipped cur, spilling its rider's wine across an immaculate silk tabard.
The hippogriff's rider wore a light armor of black, vel-vet-covered steel. While his hostile mount spread its wings and kept the other animals at bay, the rider slipped off his barbute helmet and savaged the assembled nobles with his gaze.
Almost ignoring the man's entrance, Colletro's Blade Council continued with its wine and cheese.
Curbing ner-vous mounts, the riders refreshed their glasses and final-ly bid their colleague a good day.
"Ugo Svarezi, why how good of you to come." A young, slim Blade Captain let his words drip with practiced irony. "We have so missed your refreshingly innovative conversation."
Faces quirked up into wry, venomous little smiles. For his part, Svarezi ignored the voices all around him as he would scorn the prattle of brainless little birds. Coldly leaning forward in his saddle, the man turned dark eyes toward the valley floor.
"Three villages, a salt mine-and now the Sun Gem, too. The pride of Colletro, tossed into the dust. For fear of a few sword cuts, Colletran honor is pawned."
Svarezi's speech was met with looks of amused, defen-sive scorn; his voice rang harsh from shouting across end-less parade grounds-a voice more fit for a fishmonger than a courtier. Prince Ricardo, dark, lean, and polished by a lifetime of diplomatic maneuvers, laid an armored hand upon the arm of an angry colleague and turned patient eyes to his rebellious captain.
"The laws of war, Blade Captain Svarezi, work for all of us. This year, Colletro has lost; next year, our armies shall triumph again. You must learn to see these minor set-backs as merely part of a larger game."
"A game." Ugo Svarezi turned to reveal a battered, sav-age face with skin as pale as carrion bone. "A game has an end. This-this yearly posturing has no purpose except its own continuance. To preserve the game, you have lost sight of its final goal!"
"Ah." The prince held out a hand and felt it filled with a chilled glass of wine. "And what, pray tell, is our unre-membered goal?"
"To win the game, my lord. To destroy the other king-doms and seize the board as our own."
Nobles drew in weary breaths and exchanged glances of bored despair. Prince Ricardo sipped at his wine, paused in thought, then swiveled calculating eyes toward Svarezi.
"We are aware, Captain, of the imperatives of our game. Pray allow us to pursue our victory in the way that suits u-"
"Through accountants? Through unfought battles and untried swords? Through pretty maneuvers-like lead sol-diers across a playroom floor!" Svarezi's sudden violence struck at the assembly like a storm. The man crashed a hand against his saddle as he roared his words in rage. "We could have taken them! We could have destroyed their army if any of you had been man enough to charge!"
Young Blade Captains slapped hands to sword hilts and surged forward to defend their honor-only to be halted by an easy motion of the prince's hand. Duels resulted in deaths, and deaths resulted in the realign-ment of voting blocks. The prince preferred to keep the peace with deterrents made of words.
"It is a pity, Svarezi, that you fail to see the true genius of our war. A true gamesman commits to dangerous moves only when the advantage is on his side." Ricardo, Prince-elect of Colletro, speared a piece of cheese with the point of his poniard. "Why risk all on a single throw, when proper patience will bring us to our prize?"
Svarezi's hippogriff gave a sour,
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