(LOG) The Princes' Discussion

(18:30) Drysllthen's long fingers traced the rough sketch of the castle's defenses .. the Valenti castle. It was the latest dispatch he'd received regarding what they faced, and the numbers were less while the walls had been bolstered and an unconfirmed note of several catapults being built, or something like them. Even as he contemplated, his mind flitted to the woman confined to a small set of quarters within the estate, still hearing his mother's report on what Tyltin had said of him. Unwilling to let the speculation on what he might do fester in his uncle's brain, he had sent a note the previous night, requesting a meeting early in the morning before the nobles convened once more. He'd dressed casually in loose black trousers and tunic with only his swordbelt about his waist, the old weapon forever at his side, and he waited, the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers, auburn hair falling into his face.

(18:37) Tyltin V was growing tired of the constant negotiations, power struggles,and bickering between his and his nephew's camps. There could only be one court, after all, and there were at least two candidates for every position. Seizing the note as an opportunity to puth is own thoughts and the wider sniping to rest, he showed up at the appointed time in the council room, expecting to meet Drysllthen alone. His own clothes were identical to his simple uniform of the previous night, the Swordking showing rare decency in donning a deep blue shirt. Once past the door he swept around for any guards or stragglers, and was pleased to find none. "The hour is early, Drysllthen. What could not wait until the thegns had broken their fasts?"

(18:48) Drysllthen glanced up when the door creaked, blue eyes darting behind his uncle to see if anyone had accompanied him. Pleased to see he was alone, the Prince pushed the page he'd been studying across the table with two fingers to allow Tyltin a look at it should he wish. "Once they break their fast, their mouths move, and my sister mentioned that you are a man of few words, so I thought perhaps it best to take advantage of the silence." With a roll of his shoulders, he sat back in his chair with a nod toward the parchment. "No doubt you've seen similar reports recently, but.." He shrugged. It was an offer to share information, something Drysllthen was loathe to do, words and actions both slow.

(18:57) Tyltin V gave a cursory glance to the paper, absorbing what little information he hadn't already gleaned from his own sources. "They're getting desparate. Once we breach the town's walls their catapults will either be ours or be useless." Nodding, he drew closer, still taking to his feet. "Looks like the Lady Sorynn was not alone in abandoning the Lost Cause of Raegnold...or they simply cannot feed so many men. Save the wench until the rest are holed up behind the castle gates." Glancing at his relative's paler features, he managed a small smile, almost unconscious of it. "And what else did Maeryn mention?"

(19:09) Drysllthen nodded at his assessment. Men had seemed to melt away from the count in the last months, whether disease or hunger or simply abandoning. "Their stores must be low..they've little farmland left, although I suppose they could be trading with Syrlabat with what little coin they have left." Mention of the woman had made Drysllthen's brow furrow slightly. "If she's to be of any use." Distaste coloured his tone while he fingered the handle of his sword, contemplating Tyltin's original thoughts on her. The question however drew an amused twist of his lips as he tilted his head back, regarding his uncle curiously. "That you have a bare face and short hair, which pleased her to no end because it is clean." Fondness for his half-sister lingered in his tone. "I've never seen her blush so over anyone."

(19:18) Tyltin V mused on his nephew's replies, fingers brushing over his smooth face, only hints of stubble itching at his jaw. An eyebrow inched higher at mention of Maeryn's pleasure, his curiosity spiking. A chuckle passed through his lips on mention of her blush, his smile odd. For a moment he appeared lost in thought, only snapping back to attention with a series of blinks. "We don't have the men to disrupt all trade, unless we've given up plans for an assault." He grimaced, his gaze focusing on the other prince's face. "Valys would never survive--and never forgive--such callousness. We need to assault the town, at the least. But first we need to decide what will happen to Nharati afterward." Only then did he take a seat cornerwise to Drysllthen, his elbow resting on the table.

(19:32) Drysllthen's lips twitched at his reaction to Maeryn, but he let the topic slide away. It was enough to simply offer it for thought. Dismissively, he flicked his hand at the thought of disrupting trade. "It's a trickle, not enough to worry about..." He let the words drift away as he met his uncle's eyes intently. Sorynn was like a splinter in his mind, and it was a childish want to get rid of her that had him contemplating such thing. "I'm aware, cousin. She'll keep her head." He slipped into silence when the real issue was brought to the table, eyes never wavering from Tyltin as he considered it.

(19:42) Tyltin V let his nephew ample time to come up with a proposal beyond his fascination with the traitor-girl, but as the heartbeats dragged on it seemed obvious he was waiting. The Swordking's brow set in a line and his lips parted. Only when he was sure of silence did he break it. "For most of our lives we have fought to bring our name back to the throne in Dulfwynn. Now we are close, but questions remain. My entourage has treated me well, from Pith to Ysdrin to the very walls around us. They expect to be rewarded. They expect me to be king." A deep breath interrupted his uncharacteristic monologue. "Your men expect no less of you. We've been kings in all but name over our portions of Nharati for years, now." Settling back in his chair, Tyltin put his misgivings to rest and forged ahead with his accustomed bluntness. "If Nharati be whole, she needs strength on the throne, which I possess. She needs subtlety also, which I do not."

(19:59) Drysllthen's reserve held, the Prince one who preferred to hear the plans of others before he revealed his own thoughts, and he was not disappointed when his uncle began to speak. The man held his entire attention, Drysllthen listening carefully with the occasional nod. It was odd to hear a man who apparently disliked too many words speak so much, but for his directness, Drysllthen was grateful, and it showed in a faint smile. "Then we are alike in our assessment. There is always the option to simply keep what we have." His brow arched questioningly at his uncle. "Rule as kings on our own, but our men would not be satisfied and Nharati would suffer more." His hands folded together, fingers steepling as his lips set into a narrow line. "Our differences are apparent. You have your land by the sword and mine by words. And while I'm not unfamiliar with battle.." His eyes swept over Tyltin. "..I'm not so foolish as to claim I have your skill, nor your love of it."

(20:10) Tyltin V was somehow not surprised that the other man had discerned his implication so readily. The solution made sense, after a fashion...but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Truly, Tyltin preferred a whole, strong Nharati where he wasn't king to a fractured land where he was. "I am not a good king," he continued his thoughts aloud. "But I am not yet convinced you shall be better. I trust you only enough to openly admit that I mistrust you in nearly every respect. What do you want?" Blunted fingernails scratched over the rough tabletop, clawing out a rythm as he gazed upon his cohort.

(20:28) Drysllthen blinked at the direct statement. He had not expected his uncle to be quite so blunt, but he gave a small respectful nod. "Not many men would admit such a thing, especially one with a claim to the throne." The remark was quiet, nearly under his breath as a sigh seeped out. "Mother could have left. She could have taken me to Leugeilean and abandoned this land, and yet..." His head shook slowly as his hands splayed. "She kept me here, and for her sake, for my father's, I want the throne." There was no point in denying what Tyltin clearly knew. "But, for our family and for Nharati, I want the land made whole, and I want it ruled well, so I welcome your doubt." His gaze was firm, certain as he studied his uncle. "Ygriss, Pfeorgarth, and to an extent, Sarmagh have all flourished under my hand. What would convince you?"

(20:35) Tyltin V scratched his jaw, reminded of yet another reason hekept itshaved so closely--after a day it took to iching horibly. Attentive, his jade eyes flashed at the other man's preamble, only softening when he finally got to the meat of his desire. A thoughtful chuckle sounded as he considered. "They flourish under peace, which you've brought. A man's measure cannot be judged by the size of his purse or the weight of his crops. A bad year and bandits can easily make paupers of the prudent, while prosperity might rest on the shoulders of those below." He shrugged, throwing off the poetic words like worthlss stones. Shaking his head, he cracked a smirk. "Tell me what you plan with the girl."

(20:51) Drysllthen could not deny the truth of what he said, and he sat back, lounging in his chair. At least they were not on the point of deciding the fate in combat. "Bandits can be prevented, and bad years can be anticipated, but we've fought more than bandits, and crops have failed, but planning left fewer mouths hungry." Pride crept into his voice, for he had been young when he took hold and the first years had been tentative. His lips pursed at the question while his eyes rolled back in thought. "I've not decided yet. It seemed too hasty to make the decision on my own." A pointed look shot at his uncle. "I can see the point of using her, but I'll not be grateful for her betrayal of her father as she seems to think. We can win without her. Or perhaps we can convince Raegold to open the gates because we have her. There are options."

(21:32) Tyltin V remained impassive through the other man's justifications and explanations. His own fortunes had waxed and waned, justice and economy subverted to the goal of military success. While few starved, few could claim plenty. "If it were my decision, she would find herself chained to the supply train of the troops. They'll likely get more use from her than we will." He shook his head. "Perhaps a ransom, then? Cut off her hair and her clothes and send them to Raegnold gift-wrapped, with promises of more intimate parts if he remains obstinant?" Determination gleamed in his eyes, hiding the thrill of anticipation such a dismemberment held.

(21:43) Drysllthen's lips twitched in amusement at her imagined outrage should they follow Tyltin's desire, but he shook his head. It would be as intolerable as killing her to Valys. "She hopes one of us will use her in that fashion, cat with claws, that one." His chin fell to rest on the tip of his finger, nails scratching lightly at his beard as he contemplated. It was a harsher way than he'd thought of putting it, but they wanted the man to open his gates. "I like a ransom better than her offer," he admitted, glancing up to catch the glint in his uncle's eye. "We are no worse off if he doesn't agree, and if he does..." Thoughtfully, he hummed. "I think I shall speak more with the girl, but I prefer that route. It requires no trust of her. Of course, it still doesn't settle the larger question."

(21:51) Tyltin V shuddered at the thought, positive her legs had been spread more often than she'd betrayed those closest to her. Naked revulsion creeped over his face and he rolled his eyes, leaving no comment to that eventuality. "The ransom is her life. There can be no doubt of this...any gentle hand-wringing and that old bastard will wriggle out of it, hand and foot. If he concedes, promise only her release from custody." He sighed throatily. "That's my advice, for what it's worth. She's your captive, though. You can put her to whatever use you want." Grimacing, he stood, eyes sweeping over the room. "If you give me my assault on the town and ransom the wench when I've got the castle surrounded, you can have the damned chair. There are other conditions, but that's a start." Of course if Drysllthen balked, Tyltin would attack Valys anyway...but not even the Swordking was thick enough to pronounce that fact.

(22:05) Drysllthen's eyes shot wide with genuine surprise at Tyltin's words. "Of course her life is the ransom. I don't intend to let Raegnold wrangle his way free, not when we've come this far." Hardness crept into his voice. "My only debate was how many pieces she'd be returned to him in if he refused. Your advice coincides remarkably well with my inclinations, cousin." The Prince rose politely as his uncle did, scarcely believing his ears. "My forces will be part of the assault on the town with yours. They will not be seperated into your side and mine, but a unified Valenti attack to take back Valys." His vein pulsed in his neck, still unable to believe that Tyltin would concede the throne. "And the ransom as we said. I believe we can reach an agreement on other conditions."

(22:12) Tyltin V appraised the slightly-younger man almost warily, appreciating the heat in his voice but distrusting the truth of the burning core. His words were seductive, much moreso than Sorynn's or many other slatterns for that matter. "Your forces," he echoed, hiding his own excitement behind a wall of determination. "And will you lead them over the ramparts, or remain in the rear?" That his nephew had so readily agreed seemed not to impress Tyltin.

(22:23) Drysllthen regarded his uncle sharply at those words, drawing back the fervor that had gripped him at the thought of the throne so close. A deep breath settled him as he kept his eyes level. "My father fought in the lead," his hand fell to curl possessively around the pommel of the sword at his hip. "and his father before him. I have never remained in the rear nor do I intend to start now. I would expect you to join me in the lead." It seemed Drysllthen too intended to press on to Valys even if he did not gain his uncle's support. "It would not do to have Valys handed to me, cousin. Nharati would not be whole under a weak king."

(22:35) Tyltin V noted the man's sobered disposition and smiled; it was never good to make promises in the heat of passion. Jade eyes tracked the man's wandering hand, appreciating the glint of light off his sword's pommel. Tyltin didn't reach for his own, certain that he could take the man should the need arise. Casually he lifted his tunic, first over his hips and then to his chest. In the better light his scars were more easily visible, a map of torn and burned flesh. "It will be hard...harder than Raegnold knows. Harder than he's ever dreamed." He let the fabric drop, sufficing the show for an answer as to his own position in the fighting. "Now, unless you have anything more to negotiate, I desire some warm food and cold water. You'll need some, too, if you want to face your men's wicked words."

(22:44) Drysllthen released the old weapon lest his uncle think he meant to draw the thing, a brow quirked as he lifted his clothing. It took only a moment to understand the response as his eyes wandered the scars silently. His chin jerked in a quick nod of understanding. Beneath it all, there was a sort of fascination that had him wanting to see the legendary Swordking in battle, never expecting he would fall to the rear. "No, there is nothing more at the moment. Soon, we will have to gather our generals and work out the finer points." He allowed himself a small bow and finally a smile crept over his serious face. "I appreciate you indulging my whim of meeting so early. Enjoy your meal."