"Lady Maerion, it is a privilege to meet you at last, and to welcome you to our fair city."
Seneschal Taithar bowed so deeply before her that Ameren for a moment thought that he was attempting to touch the marble floor with his nose. A somewhat exaggerated show of respect, perhaps, but then again Lady Maerion was one of the more powerful noblewomen in southern Gondor. And Ameren had ensured that she looked the part, dressed in several layers of rich cloth, modest yet very elegant and quite modern, the gruesome scars she'd worn as Branson removed and the real, long mark that cut under her left eye covered up, her skin powered perfectly smooth and pale, her hair dyed dark brown and flowing in soft curls halfway down her back, golden thread twined into it. She made for an imposing figure, one she hoped would match what most of the nobles thought of the young widow.
"Thank you, seneschal. I was disappointed to hear that Lord Idhren will not be joining us this evening," said Ameren, a tone of authority in her voice she thought suiting for the female ruler. "I had hoped to speak with him about a number of issues that have become all the more pressing over the past few months."
It's all work and no play for this woman. A banquet is just an excuse to get in touch with the powerful while they're all gathered in one place.
"He regrets not being here, my lady. His wife has taken ill and he did not wish to leave her side. He hopes you understand," said the seneschal, no doubt for the twentieth time that evening.
Of course, it has absolutely nothing to do with Seldorien wanting to keep him hidden away.
"He has always been a devoted family man, our Lord. Hopefully it is nothing serious."
"Yes, we're all praying for her ladyship's swift recovery. The Lord's steward is here, however, and may be able to offer some assistance."
"From what I've heard, all that the new steward is capable of assisting with is emptying a wine bottle," said Ameren, narrowing her gaze on the seneschal and causing him to give a nervous laugh.
"At a banquet that is rather appropriate, is it not, my lady? We have brought up plenty of fine wine from the cellars, after all. It would be a shame if it wasn't enjoyed."
He went on to speak of elven wine and Ameren quickly lost interest, excused herself and walked into the banquet hall, a space big enough to fit the largest building in Bree and still have plenty of room to spare, thousands of candles and a huge chandelier hanging from the high ceiling bathing the hall in soft, golden light. Large banners depicting the White Tree draped the walls, and one of Lord Idhren's own sigil hung at the far end of the room, behind the long table at which his court were taking their seats. There were four other long tables in the hall for the rest of the nobility, each one of them almost completely hidden under all the fine silverware, the massive platters with food from all corners of the world, the countless bottles of wine and other spirits, and the decorative, and Ameren thought obscenely large, flower arrangements placed right in the middle of everything.
This is absurd. You'd never imagine there was a war going on and the city was filling up with starving refugees.
For the other nobles, and there were over a hundred of them there, it didn't seem strange at all. They sat there in their best clothes, adorned in their best jewellery, smiling their best smiles, gorging themselves on the best food and washing it all down with the best wine money could buy. Ameren didn't have to feign her disgust when she steered the conversations she was drawn into to where she thought Lady Maerion would want them, the plight of the common folk.
"While we sit here eating sweet meats and exchange meaningless pleasantries behind our high walls, our countryside is being ravaged. Our people are being driven from their farms, their crops burned and their herds slaughtered," said Ameren, glaring across the table. The nobleman who had tried to dismiss the dire topic looked back at her in slight shock, not having expected such a bold retort.
Ease up a little, you only want them to know that you're not interested in their prattling.
"Lady Maerion has the right of it. Where do you think all this delicious food comes from?" said the nobleman to her left, taking a large bite out of the hog's leg he was holding. The rest of them gave light laughs at this and slowly the conversation became more pleasant again, returning to what they were all planning to do with the remainder of the summer. Ameren sighed and leaned back in her chair, letting their words become a soft hum in the background as she turned her attention toward the court's table. The high back chair in the middle had been standing empty since the banquet started a few hours ago and she guessed it was Lord Idhren's chair. The chair to its left was also empty, probably his wife's seat, and in the chair to Idhren's right sat the steward, Tarias, drinking down goblet after goblet of wine while talking to the man next to him, who she did not recognise. He looked to be in his fifties, long, silky black hair with streaks of grey hanging loose, some lines around his eyes, a proud and noble bearing, wearing rich but practical robes, and Ameren thought she'd caught sight of a weapon or two when he sat down.
Seldorien himself, perhaps? In any case, best keep clear of him. Where are the twins...?
Her gaze wandered the others at the table, then the guards lining the walls, all of them standing rigid like statues in their heavy armour, their faces hidden behind the visors of their helmets.
Not where I can see them, that's for sure. But if I can barely recognise myself, they hopefully won't know me either.
Ameren had made sure to give any nobles that might know Lady Maerion a wide berth, which luckily wasn't all that many, as she had been a lesser noble before marrying and not one of much note even afterwards. Only when her husband passed and left her to rule Lorilad had the others taken interest, and by then Lady Maerion was even less keen on socialising with them. To be on the safe side she also avoided Lord Denien and his sons, in case they were more observant than they seemed. But having people she needed to dodge meant that approaching the Marshal became difficult. Levain was sitting at the court's table, all smiles and merriment as he spoke with his neighbours and enjoyed himself.
A very different man from the one I've watched over the past weeks. Younger, in a way, without all the responsibilities of his position weighing down on him.
Walking up to him there, even under the guise of a ruler concerned for her people and wanting a word with the region's Marshal, would draw far too much attention. She would have to wait for an opportunity to present itself.
The evening crept by painfully slowly. The nobles ate and drank their fill, some even going off to throw up what they'd consumed so far so that they could stuff themselves even more. A small crowd made the effort of dancing in the space cleared near the musicians, and a couple of groups of mingling and watching nobles began to form nearby. Tired of sitting around and listening to the slurping and smacking of her neighbours, Ameren rose and made her way over there, joining the group with mostly young women. Not that she thought they'd provide even half-decent conversation, but she'd caught the Marshal's gaze lingering on them more than once, and she hoped that he'd get off his arse and also come over to enjoy their company. To her surprise the young women appeared to admire Lady Maerion and were keen on asking all sorts of questions, from how she managed to look after a whole city on her own, albeit a small one, to her current outfit. She was so focused on providing somewhat believable answers to all their questions that she almost didn't notice when Marshal Levain smoothly joined the small circle, smiling politely at them all but remaining silent until Ameren had finished talking about the importance of seeing to the needs of all her subjects, not only bending to the will of the rich.
Luckily they probably know as little about ruling a city as I do. All that fancy talk about equal rights seems to have convinced them otherwise.
The ladies did appear rather impressed by her, much to Levain's dismay as it took them a while to pay him any actual attention. Ameren let an amused smirk spread across her lips as she watched the Marshal strike up a conversation with a very pretty woman who was probably half his age, only to have the woman's father come lead her away when he saw who his daughter was talking to.
Poor Marshal, is your reputation starting to catch up with you?
When he'd had another pair of women snatched away shortly after he started speaking with them, Levain gave a sigh and turned his devilishly charming smile toward Ameren.
Oh, dear me, you know just how handsome you are, don't you? Am I expected to swoon now?
"I'm afraid I must apologise, it appears that I've scared away your admirers," said Levain, watching the last few women of the group be asked to dance and lead away from them.
"Apology accepted, but you'd better be ready to provide some decent conversation as well," replied Ameren, a tinge of playful defiance in her tone to match her smirk. "They must be gossiping worse about you than they are about me, by the looks of it."
"I do believe you're right," said Levain, stepping closer and taking her gloved hand, then bending down to kiss it. "Marshal Levain, at your service, my lady."
"Lady Maerion. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Marshal."
"The pleasure is mine, to speak with the Lady of Lorilad herself."
"As impressive as they say I am, I hope?"
"More so, the rumours are not always flattering," said Levain with a light chuckle. "I've heard that you ate noble babies to gain the support of the common folk."
"And I've heard that you have a taste for young, noble flesh as well, Marshal," retorted Ameren, her tone perfectly pleasant, causing Levain to break out in a grin.
"Touché, my lady."
The conversation became rather like a sparring match, much to the amusement of the Marshal as they went back and forth, both trying hard to gain the upper hand. They jabbed and parried with charm and wit, sharp words and clever insults veiled behind polite smiles and laughter, nothing of it ill meant, of course, it was all just for the fun of it.
After all the easy prey it would appear our dear Marshal quite fancies a bit of a challenge.
Before long Levain had suggested a tour of the estate, heavily implying his intent of ending up in one of the bedchambers on the second floor, he had no reason to hide it after all, and they continued taking small jabs at each other as he lead to way out of the hall, the guards letting them pass without any trouble.
"You know, lady Maerion, young, noble flesh may have its appeal, but had I known fiery widows were this interesting, I would have altered my tastes sooner," said Levain as he locked the door to the bedchamber, leaving the key in it.
We don't want to be disturbed, do we?
They were at the far end on the estate, in the rooms reserved for honoured guests, as the Marshal had explained, and the noise from the banquet had faded away. A fire was already lit in the hearth and it was the only source of light in the room, causing the furniture to cast long, flickering shadows over the walls.
"How you flatter, Marshal," whispered Ameren with a slight grin, having backed into the room and halted next to the large, four poster bed.
"If I thought flattery worked on you, my lady, I would be going on about your beauty, your charm, the colour of your eyes, endless sweet words that would make a lesser woman blush," replied Levain as he come over to her. "Instead I choose being honest. You're interesting. I like interesting. That you're also beautiful and charming is just a bonus."
He reached for Ameren without hesitation when he got close, a hand at her lower back to pull her up against him, caressing her cheek and taking a light hold of her neck with the other, the confidence and intimacy of his touch making her skin to crawl.
Getyourhandsoffme! Getyourhandsoffme! Get your fucking hands off-
Calm. Down. You're not allowed to hit him, you need his help. And you need him to sit still and listen while you ask for it. Preferably without him bleeding.
But when he put his thumb on her jaw and tried to raise her lips to his she took a slight step backwards, causing him to kiss her forehead instead. Levain didn't seem to mind it all that much, even less when Ameren unbuttoned his jacket, thinking that her eagerness was the reason behind it. She swatted away his hand as he tried to remove her coat, masking it as playfulness with a smirk and a wink, making the Marshal chuckle and then just watch her, seemingly intrigued. Quickly stepping around him until she was at his back, Ameren pulled Levain's jacket off, and his shirt, dropping them on the floor before unbuckling his belt and taking that as well, all while trying to touch him as little as she possibly could without giving him the idea that she wanted nothing to do with him. Fortunately the
Marshal only had one thing on his mind and didn't take note of it.
Gods, I hope this works...
Ameren ran her hands down along his arms and took hold of them, folding them behind his back, slowly and very gently, a lover's touch, ready to let go if Levain suspected anything. But he remained intrigued, eager even, looking over his shoulder at her with a raised brow and a grin tugging at his lips as she fastened the belt around his forearms, then pulled him back toward the bed and attaching the belt to one of the posts.
"I would have altered my tastes much, much sooner..." murmured Levain when she stepped back around.
"Aye, I reckon you would have, this seems to be something you quite fancy," replied Ameren, letting the pitch of her voice return to normal and her Bree accent seep into her speech, pulled up an armchair and sat down across from the Marshal. He appeared confused, just staring at her as she looked back with a calm, emotionless expression, waiting for him to catch on. Levain tugged at the restraints holding him to the bed and then widened his eyes, realising what had just happened.
"Ah... Well played..."
"Thank you. Now, please don't shout or anything. I'm not here to cause you any grief, but I needed to speak with you without anyone else listening in on the conversation, hence the deception."
"I see. Is there anyone in particular you don't want hearing this?"
"Aye, Seldorien, or anyone working for him for that matter. You're no friend of his, from what I've heard."
"I'm not, but if you came here looking for an ally, you probably should have asked rather than tying me up like this."
"Perhaps, but I've yet to decide if you're trustworthy or not, and until then this is safer for me. Keeps you from running away or trying anything that would force me to hurt you."
"I liked you better when you were a charming widow. Who are you?"
"That doesn't matter. But I'm here to speak with you on the behalf of a young man called Havaldr who used to work as a harpist at this estate until he overheard the details to the murder of Lord Idhren's son and had to flee for his life."
They spoke for some time, Ameren laid out all the details Havaldr had told her about the events he'd witnessed and answered all of the Marshal's questions as best she could without giving away anything that might lead him, or anyone else, to Havaldr. He was wary and difficult to convince, and Ameren thought his hatred for Seldorien played the bigger part in his decision when he finally agreed to help them.
"I want to speak with this man myself first," said Levain when she let him loose, rubbing his sore arms. "Do you have somewhere set up where I can meet him?"
"Not exactly, no. You're watched too closely by Seldorien, so you'd probably end up leading him right to us," replied Ameren, tossing the belt on the bed and dragging the armchair back to the fireplace. "The trouble I went through just to speak with you in private should give you enough of a clue of just how many eyes that man has around the city."
"Can you bring him to the barracks then? Sneak him in? The stealthy things your kind does," asked Levain, a sharp edge to his tone as he looked at her.
"I could, but I can't say I want to. Trapping him there would be easy for you."
"If we're to be allies in this you're going to have to trust me just a little bit more than that."
"Trust is dangerous."
"I'm willing to trust you, even after this," said Levain and gestured to the marks on his forearms from where the belt had cut in. He looked like he was about to say something else when there was a light knock on the door. Ameren immediately drew a dagger and moved toward the Marshal, glaring between him and the door.
"Marshal Levain? Sir? I must speak with you."
"It's just one of my officers. The festivities in the city have probably gotten rowdier than we first expected," whispered Levain and tried to put his hand on Ameren's arm to calm her, but she slipped past it and pressed the tip of the blade against his back. "I've already noticed that trust isn't really your strong suit."
"Send him away."
"I'm a bit preoccupied, Captain!" called Levain to the officer outside the door, then lowered his voice so only Ameren could hear. "Half naked with a crazy woman poking a knife into my back. I'm honestly not sure if this is a good night or a bad night."
"I'm sorry, Marshal, but I must insist!"
"You heard the man. Put that away, take off your coat, and get on the bed," whispered Levain, giving a silent gasp when she pressed the blade a bit harder against him in protest. "I'm trying to help you, crazy woman. A tiny bit of trust is all I ask."
Ameren growled a curse under her breath and sheathed the blade, then shrugged off her coat and tossed it on the floor before getting on the bed, kicking around the covers a little.
There's always the window. A drop from the second floor is not enough to cause much damage, as long as I don't land badly.
She gauged the distance between the bed and the stained window as the Marshal went to the door and unlocked it, seeming perfectly comfortable talking with his officer while wearing nothing but his boots and trousers. The Captain did not appear to think it strange either, and they went straight to business, speaking of riots in some of the poorer districts. Cause for some concern if Havaldr got caught in the middle of it, but he had the hillmen to protect him.
He'll be fine, the savages can scare off any troublemakers with their breath alone.
The door was soon shut again and the lock clicked as Levain turned the key, listening for the officer to leave before walking back to the bed.
"Duty calls, lovely crazy woman. Do you know the barracks?"
"Aye, well enough," said Ameren, going to get her coat and put it on.
"I'm not going to ask you how, but that's good, I suppose. Bring your friend there in two days' time, during the late evening. My chambers should suffice," said Levain, also getting dressed.
"That's five storeys up..."
"Have you been following me around?"
"Aye, of course I have. Pretending to be a noblewoman, coming here, and then having to seduce you was not my first choice, believe me. But it proved to be the one with the least risk as far as the safety of my employer is concerned."
"I'll take your word on that. If you wish to move forward with this and do it with my aid, what I've suggested is how it has to be."
"Fine, done, since we don't have time to argue over this."
"If I may ask, what would you have done if I hadn't agreed to meet this Havaldr? Kill me?" asked Levain with a faint laugh.
Might as well tell him, let him know who he's dealing with in case he gets the notion to try anything clever.
"No, nothing quite so crude. I would given you a large dose of a quite handy type of neurotoxin. You'd have woken up tomorrow with an aching head, remembering little of this."
"A poor end to such an interesting evening, wouldn't you agree?"
Ameren forced a pleasant smile and returned to the guise of Lady Maerion as the Marshal lead her back to the banquet hall, bowing deeply and kissing her hand before he left her there to join the officers waiting for him. She remained at the feast and mingled a while longer for the sake of appearence, but there was no other reason to linger, as she'd gotten what she came there for.
