10-14-2015, 12:37 PM
some are lost in the fire
some are built from it
He leaves the jungle before Killdare, but he takes a scenic route back home. Not because he doesn't want to return; on the contrary, he wants nothing more than to be home, to be back in the Chamber again. But he knows that before he returns he needs to take stock of the situation around him. There's only so much that Straia's ravens can learn, powerful though they are.
And so he is a shadow on the edges of kingdoms, lingering in the field and the meadow, stopping to listen to the things that are said when they think no one is there to hear. He hears things about the way the other kingdoms view the raid on the Gates. He hears things about the way other kingdoms and horses view them. And he is pleased to note that when they speak of the Chamber, they usually do so with fear. But fear, he knows, is a dangerous double-edged sword: there's a sweet spot, nestled right between disrespect (where fear is not enough to command obedience) and destruction (where fear becomes so great that the only possible reaction is to attack).
He doesn't doubt that the Chamber can defend itself, but he does doubt that the Chamber can defend itself against the entirety of Beqanna without taking some serious losses in the process.
He sees Killdare ahead and tracks the man easily enough, rising into the air to more easily make his way to Killdare's eventual landing spot. It's a lovely thing, this elemental flight that his heat manipulation gives him, and terribly convenient. The fact that it could've easily allowed him to sneak into the Amazons and appear with no tracks is entirely irrelevant. They've released him, and what they don't know won't hurt them. And besides, it really hadn't been him.
He arrives and slips in beside Killdare just as the discussion is getting good – just as Killdare is raising some of the questions that have been on Erebor's own mind since the raid on the Gates had first been announced. He gives a nod to his father and to his friend, and he's about to speak, to add his own voice to the questions and try to guess at some answers, when his mother appears and he falls silent.
He knows why they'd done it. He understands when she speaks of the fire. He knows that, now, the other kingdoms think of them with fear. He just hopes that it is the right kind of fear. The kind they want – rather than the kind that could threaten to consume them.
"Poke the bear." he says without hesitation once Straia finishes speaking. He doesn't waste time with greetings or introductions, all four of them know each other. "Provoke a kingdom into being bold enough to attack us. It shouldn't be hard, depending on which kingdom we pick." He shifts his weight. "We’ve got more than enough strength to defend against any kingdom that would rise against us. While pushing around the Gates is a good way to get our name on the map, they're one of the weakest kingdoms in Beqanna, and everyone knows it." his voice is crisp, clear, military.
"I came back from the Amazons by way of the field and the meadow, trying to overhear as many conversations as possible. And while I have no special talents in this area, I did hear some interesting things." he looks at the three of them. "We need to make it clear that we are a threat to be feared by the strongest, not just a bully capable of pushing around the weakest."
He pauses for a moment. "We could attack most any kingdom we want, and we would win. But if we are too aggressive, we might push the other kingdoms into joining forces to stop us. I don't doubt our ability to fight, but against a coalition marching on us in our land, what would the cost be?" Another pause. "Instead, we can employ our diplomats, and perhaps some of our…friends in clever ways. Without too much trouble we'll be feared, dominant, but not hated enough to demand a coalition attack."
Having spoken his piece, he turns slightly to Killdare with a small, wry smile on his face. "Welcome back, by the way." his voice is low so as not to interrupt anyone who might be talking, but there is sincerity in his tones and in his smile. Killdare is a true servant of the Chamber, and probably the closest thing the boy has to a friend.
And so he is a shadow on the edges of kingdoms, lingering in the field and the meadow, stopping to listen to the things that are said when they think no one is there to hear. He hears things about the way the other kingdoms view the raid on the Gates. He hears things about the way other kingdoms and horses view them. And he is pleased to note that when they speak of the Chamber, they usually do so with fear. But fear, he knows, is a dangerous double-edged sword: there's a sweet spot, nestled right between disrespect (where fear is not enough to command obedience) and destruction (where fear becomes so great that the only possible reaction is to attack).
He doesn't doubt that the Chamber can defend itself, but he does doubt that the Chamber can defend itself against the entirety of Beqanna without taking some serious losses in the process.
He sees Killdare ahead and tracks the man easily enough, rising into the air to more easily make his way to Killdare's eventual landing spot. It's a lovely thing, this elemental flight that his heat manipulation gives him, and terribly convenient. The fact that it could've easily allowed him to sneak into the Amazons and appear with no tracks is entirely irrelevant. They've released him, and what they don't know won't hurt them. And besides, it really hadn't been him.
He arrives and slips in beside Killdare just as the discussion is getting good – just as Killdare is raising some of the questions that have been on Erebor's own mind since the raid on the Gates had first been announced. He gives a nod to his father and to his friend, and he's about to speak, to add his own voice to the questions and try to guess at some answers, when his mother appears and he falls silent.
He knows why they'd done it. He understands when she speaks of the fire. He knows that, now, the other kingdoms think of them with fear. He just hopes that it is the right kind of fear. The kind they want – rather than the kind that could threaten to consume them.
"Poke the bear." he says without hesitation once Straia finishes speaking. He doesn't waste time with greetings or introductions, all four of them know each other. "Provoke a kingdom into being bold enough to attack us. It shouldn't be hard, depending on which kingdom we pick." He shifts his weight. "We’ve got more than enough strength to defend against any kingdom that would rise against us. While pushing around the Gates is a good way to get our name on the map, they're one of the weakest kingdoms in Beqanna, and everyone knows it." his voice is crisp, clear, military.
"I came back from the Amazons by way of the field and the meadow, trying to overhear as many conversations as possible. And while I have no special talents in this area, I did hear some interesting things." he looks at the three of them. "We need to make it clear that we are a threat to be feared by the strongest, not just a bully capable of pushing around the weakest."
He pauses for a moment. "We could attack most any kingdom we want, and we would win. But if we are too aggressive, we might push the other kingdoms into joining forces to stop us. I don't doubt our ability to fight, but against a coalition marching on us in our land, what would the cost be?" Another pause. "Instead, we can employ our diplomats, and perhaps some of our…friends in clever ways. Without too much trouble we'll be feared, dominant, but not hated enough to demand a coalition attack."
Having spoken his piece, he turns slightly to Killdare with a small, wry smile on his face. "Welcome back, by the way." his voice is low so as not to interrupt anyone who might be talking, but there is sincerity in his tones and in his smile. Killdare is a true servant of the Chamber, and probably the closest thing the boy has to a friend.
erebor
heat manipulating lord of the chamber
warship x straia
