"What kind of path are you suggesting?" The Titan Prince eyed Grayson skeptically.
"If I might propose, seek assistance from your ally, 'Bloody Hand' Wystan. Should he lead the dark wizards to reinforce your ranks, victory will be within your grasp," Grayson said confidently to Tyrrel.
Andros and Morven, standing behind Grayson, were shocked by his bold candor.
"Who told you 'Bloody Hand' Wystan is my ally?" A flicker of murderous intent passed through Tyrrel's eyes, his voice a mix of astonishment and anger, as if he might strike down Grayson and his companions on the spot.
"Wystan sought a partnership with you in a letter; you accepted his proposal, did I err?" Grayson's calm gaze met the enraged Titan's.
"I do not know the source of your information, but it is preposterously absurd!" Tyrrel shook his head coldly, "Indeed, the dark wizard wrote to me, but I did not agree. That letter has since vanished, forgotten until your mention."
"I thought you might like to see it." Grayson produced the letter, unfolding it and extending it towards Tyrrel. The prince took it with surprise, scanning it before nodding, "The very one. How did it come into your possession?"
"Best not to inquire about a ranger's sources." Grayson smiled up at the prince, "If your words to me just now held no reserve, I regret to say, your troubles are significant."
"Perhaps my fate was sealed long ago. Life and death hold no sway over me. Even if I must confront Solon's forces tomorrow, I won't flinch—that you can trust," Tyrrel responded solemnly.
"I don't doubt your courage, but rather than a valiant death, I propose a strategic maneuver—there might yet be hope." Grayson's smile was cryptic, "As the saying goes, better to spread grease on the ground than hack at a giant's heels with a sword."
Tyrrel's laughter boomed in response, not at all offended by the saying's implication. Then, studying Grayson intently, he asked, "Your point is well taken. So where might I find this 'grease'?"
"This is hardly the place for serious strategizing." Grayson glanced around and suggested, the little owl in his hat whispering, "Perhaps the prince could take us to the dining room. We could eat and discuss."
"A midnight snack and a strategy session, Prince? I trust you won't deny us that pleasure," Grayson grinned at Tyrrel.
The prince nodded, "Of course not, but you must promise a satisfactory solution after supping at my table!"
"Certainly. I never undertake what I can't achieve!" Grayson flicked his white cloak and gestured grandly towards the banquet hall, Tyrrel returning the gesture as they all headed off.
"And let's not forget to include Seraphine and Katheren. The ladies mustn't be left out!" At Grayson's reminder, Tyrrel dispatched soldiers to the quarters, and the party convened in the dining hall. After a toast, Tyrrel looked to Grayson for the plan.
Grayson, carving a lamb leg for the salivating Elyra, who grasped it with both hands, looked up at Tyrrel, "My plan consists of two parts, beginning with you and Sir Andros."
Andros perked up, and Grayson continued, "Your Highness, your attendance at the Thunderhold ceremony will mislead Solon, buying us time and opportunity."
"But Solon's aim is clear; he wishes for my permanent absence, like my brother Tidus. Am I to walk knowingly to my doom?" Tyrrel questioned skeptically.
"We certainly won't sacrifice you for victory," Grayson assured, turning to Andros, "That's why Sir Andros will accompany you, along with the Order of the Winged Light and High Priest Gothard."
"I see what you mean!" Andros exclaimed, enlightened, "You plan to leverage the knights and priests, and the Emperor's prestige and authority, to safeguard the prince!"
"Exactly. They represent the Emperor and the entire human empire. Solon must weigh whether he dares strike under their watch. If he acts, your guards and the two orders will ensure your safety, and Solon will alienate the empire."
Grayson's words eased Tyrrel's furrowed brow into a pleased smile, "Excellent, I concur with the plan. Let us drink to its success!"
Glasses raised in tribute, Tyrrel then pressed Grayson for the second part.
"The second part falls to myself, Mr. Morven, and the two ladies. We four shall head to Grey Harbor in the north, seeking the Ghost Pirate Captain, 'Soul' Jaxton," Grayson said, setting his drink aside, his gaze firm.
"Just the four of you?" Tyrrel frowned in disbelief, "Are you certain of what you'll confront? Not even the Order could vanquish those undead pirates. Alone, you embark on a one-way journey!"
"You're correct," Grayson replied with assurance, "A battle to exterminate them would be dire—simpler to take on Solon directly."
He sipped the ale from his wooden cup, "But rangers have unique means of resolving issues. We might seem reckless brawlers, yet we prefer non-lethal resolutions."
"And what is your aim?" Tyrrel leaned in, pressing for an answer.
"You need allies, and that's my objective," Grayson proclaimed, standing to address the prince, "Imagine if the tables turned, the need to divide forces fell on Solon instead of you. What then?"
"Jaxton and his fleet are a bottomless pit, bought by Solon. It would cost a fortune to sway him; I doubt I possess enough treasure to tempt him!" Tyrrel expressed his skepticism.
"Ah, but we shan't burden your treasury," Grayson assured, swirling his cup, "We shall find something more compelling than gold to sway our new ally. You need only ensure the first plan's success, leaving no stone unturned."
"Very well, Mr. Grayson, I place my trust in you," Tyrrel raised his cup, "Regardless of success, you've already broadened my horizons. I'm eager to collaborate!"
"Thank you, Your Highness, it's my honor," Grayson drained his cup, nodding to the prince before setting the vessel down, "But let's not overstay our welcome. The feast ends here."
Tyrrel then rose, bidding farewells as soldiers escorted the guests back to their quarters. Along the way, Grayson whispered to Seraphine, "Miss Seraphine, I trust you wouldn't mind asking the Djinn to fetch something for me from my home."
"Your home?" Seraphine echoed, surprised, "I had thought you without one. What do you need from there?"
A mysterious glint passed through Grayson's eyes as he murmured, "I need to retrieve my tools of the trade..."