[Forien's Point of View]
Lord Loreys looked terrifying. Unlike his facade that he puts up in public, he is now calmer, more composed, and more striking than ever. His eyes glowed a faint red aura... either that or I am losing my sanity and I am now hallucinating. He wore a black and green mantle. The man was old, yet strong, calm, yet strook terror into the hearts of others.
The meeting began with the breaking of silence by Ser Maerys Abberan.
"Your grace..." he began, "...about our way of travel towards Northrest Keep... how shall we arrive there?" he asks.
"Perhaps by ship..." Ser Madester Abberan replied, stroking his stubble.
"Yes." my father spoke, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "That is what I am considering so far. Our infiltration of the keep--"
"And how will we infiltrate Northrest Keep?" Ser Mareste Abberan interrupted. The men paused, each looking at one another as if asking "How do we take hold of Northrest keep?". "Apologies, my lord..." Ser Mareste began, "..but it seems we have no plan to this. What do you want us to do, stroll on our way into the keep recklessly?" he asked, his back laid against his chair, and a prideful smirk on his face.
Ser Mareste seemed to be the arrogant one in the entire brotherhood of House Abberan. If I have to sit here while he ranted on and on, I'd rather walk out of this room.
"How do you suppose we enter the keep then, Ser Mareste?" asked Lord Loreys. Immediately, the smirk on the bannerman's face was gone, and he sat back up, his posture fixed, and his eyes now filled with thought, twitching left and right as if looking for a response.
"Well, you see—I mean, perhaps we could, um..."
"You have no plan, so don't speak." Lord Loreys retorted, shooting at the bannerman a gaze that silenced him.
That serves you right for being so arrogant, I thought to myself.
For a moment, the room was silent, until Lord Loreys spoke again. "The royal family will travel to Northrest Keep along the shore..." he began, tracing the route on the map laid on the table, "...our armies, led by all of you, who will be led by me as hand of the king, will travel by sea. We will arrive here..." he said, pointing his finger on a port which was next to the city, "...and we will take the armies of House Ravenhan by surprise--"
"You said we were going to infiltrate the keep... how exactly?" Ser Madester asked, his eyes fixated on Lord Loreys.
I could feel the rage Lord Loreys had. I would think a person who carries himself so gracefully would not want someone way below him to interrupt his plots... just like my father, but probably worse.
"If you so kindly would not interrupt, I would have said it, Ser Madester." said the old man. "As I was saying, the armies will arrive at the port, which is quite near from Northrest Keep just enough so that we are not to be detected. We will set the city on fire and we will lay siege on the keep..." Lord Loreys said, his finger pressed down on a spot on the map where Northrest Keep is, "...as for the safety of the royal family, we will make sure they are out of The Keep by the time our attack will initiate." he finished, resting his back against his chair, and looking carefully at the other bannermen.
I am thankful he even considered MY safety. At this point, I feel like an expendable force, just waiting to be used, and thrown away the instant he is useless, and believe me, I know how useless I am in battle. I can't even swing a sword right. Now I'm wondering why we're even attending the wedding at all after hearing the plan.
"We are to siege Northrest Keep, yes?" Ser Maserr Abberan asked.
"You are correct, Ser Maserr." Lord Loreys replied.
"Then we would need artillery." Ser Maserr reminded, leaning forward and raising his hand, looking for a place to rest his finger on. "I thought a siege might come, so I ordered men from outside The Spire to build me machines. I received news that the artillery is ready. They built hundreds." Ser Maserr finished.
"Forget 'The Abberan Owl', what about we call you 'The Forseer', cool, eh, brother?" Ser Magrae said with a chuckle, trying to lighten up the mood. Sooner or later, Ser Maserr even laughed at the thought. My father gave a small smile, but Lord Loreys showed no emotion. Of course he doesn't laugh at a good joke. Who would've thought?
"Trebuchets would really help." My father began, "Wonderful job, Ser Maserr."
A tense pause is what came next, until someone broke the silence...again. "About the heir..." Ser Magrae began, "...what do we do with him? Let him swing a blade and die with a clean sword?" he asked.
My heart beats faster, and my stomach churns as I hear my name dragged into the conversation. My mind fills with questions, but one stands out from them all; what are they planning to do with me?
"My son will accompany me." father replied. "He will join in the wedding, and will lead with me when the battle will begin."
"That is too risky, your grace!" Ser Magrae excalaimed, his fist colliding with the table. "The boy would be better off staying here with the duchess and his sister. This is the heir to your throne, your grace, not some cannon fodder--"
"He is my son!" my father interrupted with a loud voice, the rage that I saw with him during our time at the balcony is coming back. "What do you want me to do, Ser Magrae?" he asked. "I like you as company..." he said, pointing his finger at him, "...but choose your words wisely."
Everyone is silent. Ser Mareste did not even smirk or make fun or Ser Magrae. I suppose he knew his brother was right, yet he could not debate against my father.
"Yes, your grace. Apologies." he said, tilting his head down, defeated by my father's words.
I could not bear seeing Ser Magrae like this. Perhaps it is because he's the only person that understands my situation, even a little bit. Whatever it was, I wanted to stick with him rather than my father. "F-father..." I began, my voice shaking with nervousness, "...p-perhaps I should accompany Ser Magrae d-during the siege?" I ask, unsure whether what to respond to my father's question.
"And for what reason, Lord Forien?" Lord Loreys asked.
Great, now the most terrifying person in the entirety of my father's small council has asked me the question I feared the most. "Leading this large of an army is, well..." I search for the right word, my voice almost failing me, and cracking every word here and there, "...o-overwhelming. I could start out with commanding 25 B-bannermen Masters rather than an entire 125..." I look to my father, hoping perhaps he would consider my idea. "...d-don't you think so, father?" I ask.
My father looks at me, then to Ser Magrae, then to Lord Loreys. "I agree." my father says, "Perhaps it is too early for you to lead that many men..." he began, "...Ser Magrae." he called.
"Yes, your grace?" he asked.
"Keep my son alive, will you?" my father asked, in a tone unusually playful and light. Nothing like what my father usually is.
"Of course, your grace." Ser Magrae replied.
That's one issue down. At least I will accompany my most favored person in my father's council in battle.
Ser Magrae leans towards me slightly whilst the others begin another argument. At this point, I could care less what they are talking about. From what I heard it was something near the grounds of whether to attack immediately or to wait them out.
"Thank you for that, Lord Forien." he says and hands me a small pouch. I shake it, only to feel that it is filled with coins. I open it to see silver coins.
"It may not be much, my lord..." he began, "...but I always pay my debts to those who I owe it to." he finished.
"Thank you, Ser Magrae." I replied.
Father really did choose wisely in giving Ser Magrae the rank of Bannerman Elite when he did. The man was noble, considerate, kind, and loyal. It's likely he's an excellent tactician, like his brothers in blood.
My ears then focus on what is happening now. "We should attack then and there when we arrive at the city!" yelled one of the Abberan brothers.
"I told you we should wait for the right time!" yelled another, "Ever heard of patience is key in battle, brother!?"
My father could only try and silence them, but his loud screams only added to the chaos. The only person that wasn't screaming was Lord Loreys, who finally broke the loudness of the room.
"ENOUGH WITH YOUR BICKERING!!!" Lord Loreys yelled. It turns out my mind was not crazy, his eyes really did turn red as blood, and his pupils yellow as gold. His veins pumped blood that boiled through his veins, and he looked enraged. For once, he actually showed raw emotion.
Without noticing, I move my chair closer to Ser Magrae, who looks me in the eye and mouths the words "It will be fine, your grace" as reassurance. To be honest, I see him more of a father figure than my father himself.
"It is better to wait and let them starve!" Lord Loreys exclaimed.
"And why is that, my lord?" Ser Mareste asked, sarcasm plastered everywhere within his tone.
"Keep your foul tongue behind your teeth." Lord Loreys retorted angrily. "We starve them—cut their supply lines and let nothing go in or out..." he began, "...it is better to invade a fort and take it while it stands rather than bring it down and conquer merely rubble." he explained.
"I could not have said it better, Lord Loreys." my father said, praising him.
"I-I agree as well, my lord." says the bannerman who once sided against him. He was Ser Madester.
It really was that simple—me and my family will arrive there as we travel along the shore by ship, while the army travels by sea towards a port near the city. We will arrive first, attend the wedding, and escape the keep before the attack—or at least, before they set the city on fire. We then cut their supply lines, and wait them out.
Soon after that, the meeting was over. Everyone had left, even me. I walk outside the stuffy halls of The Spire and outside to the balcony. A different balcony, not like the one my father stood on the night I questioned his intentions.
My hands trace the stone railings, now made of marble, as I stroll along. I have already accepted that the war is inevitable. If I could tell the Ballisters and the Ravenhans of my father's plan I would... but I can't. I know no apology will ever compensate for what my father is about to do.
I watch in the distance as the night begins to show its true beauty. The silver moon was bright, shining over the city below. In the distance, I could barely make out the Iron Port and its bustling markets, whose lights still shine brightly as ever even during the night.
As I admire the night, I could only do one thing: Hope. I could only hope that the war lasts no longer than a long time, because even a short while filled with war is already too much for me... or anyone for that matter.