Black Letters has started at Arx - Ward of House Thrax - Blackshore Manor - Dining Room.

The Blackshores have gathered at their ebon table in light of troubling reports reaching Arx from the waters around New Hope. If there were any doubt remaining that the Dagonites had coordinated their efforts to coincide with the Assembly of Peers, none can remain now as commencing promptly on November 8th, the shipping of grain and other supplies to and from New Hope had come under heavy attack.

Over the past week, multiple reports came in of piracy from squadrons of warships flying flags of House Greywalke falling upon both solitary trade ships and merchant convoys, striking most heavily on routes between New Hope and its Loyalist allies, undercutting Baron Aedric's promises to send aid to those afflicted by the Nightcove reavings.

The Blackshores have had ample word of these many attacks, as- curiously- very few attacks had resulted in massacres. The Greywalke pirates had typically boarded, overwhelmed any resistance, unloaded the cargoes of any foodstuffs or war materials, and left the Blackshore crews with their lives and ships intact. In one instance, surrendering after a doomed defense, survivors spoke of a Lord Arminius Greywalke ordering that his men treat the wounds of a defeated Blackshore captain before taking leave with his violently stolen loot.

Ships of other fealties have fared less kindly: traders under the flags of other Loyalist or Mainland houses have all been put to the sword with their ships stolen or burned, and the question of how to respond has at last reached the Baron's table.

Natasha checks intellect and investigation at hard. Natasha is successful.

"--in the week prior to the assembly, I met with a number of houses regarding Nightcove's reavings. Lord Haakon Eswynd, Lady Azova Darkwater, Countess Ember Redreef. All confirmed that Lord Anders had targeted their food infrastructure, in varied capacities, and I immediately negotiated a contract with a prominent mainlander family to purchase their surplus grain stores," the baron explains, sitting comfortably at the head of the table. "My intent, until this development, was to supplement the stockpiled resources of our allies. That this Arminius fellow has spared our ships and sailors intrigues me greatly. The Prince of Maelstrom has openly declared war upon his enemies. Why show compassion?" Aedric shifts his gaze between those assembled. The question was not rhetorical. If they had thoughts on the matter, he was eager to hear them.

Having found a seat at the table that is not directly next to any of the other family members, Quinley Blackshore appears to have settled in for a long meeting. One leg is curled up with it's foot on the chair. Her graceful, scarred hands are clasped in front of her shin. The cerulean eyes in turn take in each of the table's other occupants in turn. Her uncle. Her cousin. The princess. "Clearly, we must do something. The captains have tried different routes, yes? They wouldn't /want/ to be pirated, I hope." She pauses and goes back to quietly looking around the room.

While Romulius Thrax no longer carries the name of Blackshore, it is hardly as though the family's Sword has been wholly absent from the manse since his marriage to Natasha. Especially early in Marius's infancy, the pairing took efforts to bring the young prince here and to New Hope to introduce him to the family that will host him for many of his teenage years; the civil war, unfortunately, has all but guaranteed that the child will be locked away in Maelstrom until the Dagonite threat is crushed. Today, Romulius sits in his usual seat, an ebony work of art clearly made to call to his martial responsibilities when he was still a lord of Blackshore. Natasha is predictably at his side, the pair acting as a mortal representation of the royal house's support of one of their most loyal vassals. At Aedric's prompting, he leans forward in his chair to answer, "It's possible that they simply hope to avoid drawing more ire than is necessary - New Hope has been largely ignored in the seditionists' reavings, and to risk the Vanguard launching a direct campaign would be disastrous to some of their efforts." Some of that is pride, certainly, but Blackshore's military forces *are* more significant than perhaps any other barony in the Isles.

Aedric checks intellect and sailing at hard. Aedric fails.

Ever since her arrival into the familiar confines of the Blackshore Manor, Natasha has been quiet, but pensive, alabaster features set in an impenetrable mask wrought beautifully cold by circumstance. That isn't to say, however, that she is unhappy to be here - the dining room of the estate, specifically, houses fond memories though it feels like a decade since them, with the ghost of Aedric's sudden laughter at something she said echoing through its annals. It fails to kindle a smile, and only seems to compound on the weight of the stakes they will also be facing in the next few months:

/We could lose all of this./

She is predictably still mulling over the information provided, and the musings of all at the table, and while the prior years have occasionally necessitated her to vocalize her reluctance in injecting herself in House Blackshore's affairs even after her engagement with one of its favorite sons, its new baron has more than once sought her counsel - it is safe to say that she feels more free to do so now. "I agree that Lord Arminus' reluctance to kill House Blackshore's men is curious, and while anyone would think it is due to the familial connection, it's too distant to hold weight on its own. Perhaps the strides the house made recently to ingratiate or appease the traditionalists of the Isles have ensured lighter consequences." She pauses. "Either that or there may be overtures within the Dagonite side to convince House Blackshore to switch sides. My lady Skye maintains a progressive bent, but politically the house is favored on both sides of the line, it boasts a sizeable force..." A glance to Romulius there. "...and its shipyards are extremely important. Also, if House Nightcove is alleged to have Abyssal connections, the curse of the Great Beast may also be a factor. There may be orders of an insidious nature that none of us know about yet. All spectulation, but those which I can't discount just yet."

"I find it difficult to believe that either Greywalke or any of the houses that they've thrown in with behind Dagon could expect that Blackshore might be turned against Thrax. Uncle, have you received any calls to either send or host a delegation to broker any sort of terms?" The last is asked to Aedric directly, Romulius drumming his fingers upon the table's surface as he considers the situation, "I'm also less inclined to believe that either Lord Anders or his house have thrown in directly with Leviathan. I don't doubt that given the opportunity, Reveka would take every step she could to weaken House Thrax and their allies, but it's hardly as though we can ever hope to understand her master's intentions - the Archfiend of Hunger is no more predictable than the weather. It would not be the first time our blood has drawn interest, though." He pauses, letting out an exasperated sigh at the situation's entirety, "Either way, some sort of action is necessary. If we can capture one of their warships and its crew, perhaps its captain will have insight into Lord Greywalke's intentions for the campaign."

As Natasha speaks, Quinley turns slightly in her chair towards the princess. A pause lingers in the air after the lawyer is done speaking. "The probably doesn't need to be ..." Romulius begins speaking, and the Blackshore admiral nods. "I agree we should do something. Though... we will see if your opinion proves fact." She rises and walks to the liquor stock. "Rum anyone?" Before anyone can answer, she pours herself several fingers of a strong bottle.

"It may be difficult to believe, but that hasn't stopped them from trying," Natasha points out mildly to her husband. "House Darkwater is just as loyal as any of those who have sworn to support His Grace in the upcoming conflict, but that didn't prevent Lord Anders from visiting their representatives personally to deliver a warning - or an encouragement - for them to reflect on which side to stand on, and damaged its holdings very little." His question to Aedric about delegations, however, prompts a glance towards the Baron. "And if they have not, perhaps an initial parley, or some other means to discover their true intentions. As always, I'll defer to those more knowledgeable than me at the table regarding martial matters."

"There are alternatives, but they would not be as safe -- nor as efficient. They could be taught, though, should these interruptions continue. Each container lost feeds Greywalke and its vassals, and I've no inclination to fill the bellies of our enemies," the sailor tells Quinley. It was an uncomfortable statement to make, what considering the family's distant relation, and this is made evident when the sailor visibly grimaces. With winter looming, and trade with the mainland vulnerable, the risk of famine grew exponentially. Aedric shifts his attention to Romulius, "--not to my immediate knowledge, no." The Sword of New Hope had made an excellent point immediately prior: the Black Vanguard was robust and incredibly proficient. Even against a county's superior numbers, they held the capacity to inflict heavy losses upon their foes. Finally, his gaze moves to Natasha. "Sound speculation, your highness. As our ships are no longer spared from the scrutiny placed upon the vessels of New Hope's chief trading partners, I suspect we will soon be forced into open conflict. Still, their reluctance -- as suggested by both you and my nephew -- has presented us with a unique opportunity." A pause. "Dialogue."

It was a dirty word. Some time ago, he had openly scrutinized Victus for appeasing the whims of traditionalists. If unnecessary destruction could be avoided, though -- and an ally made -- that was an idea worth exploring. "I will write to the Count and determine how amenable he may be to discussing these developments. Objections?"

The unassuming form of Ethan Mirari quietly enters the hall from the main foyer so as not to disrupt conversation and discreetly approaches Aedric's side, sharing quiet words with the Baron.

"They certainly mean to force *some* sort of response. It is possible, though, that Lord Arminius is acting against the will of his brother - my love, have any of your agents heard any stirrings that he might be more sympathetic to Victus's rule than the rest of his family?" The last is asked to Natasha, Romulius clearly unconcerned with putting on the airs amongst family that their marriage was one made out of strictly political necessity. "He is unlikely to oppose the Count outright, but any dissent amongst the seditionists can only play in our favor. I know only that he is considered an honorable man; it's unsurprising that he has accepted our captains' surrenders."

To Ethan, Aedric nods. "Send for him, please," the baron replies, glancing briefly toward the entryway. Perhaps surprisingly, he stands, his expression somber.

"Dialogue? you mean talk to them?" Quinley downs the glass of rum in one go then puts the empty glass down hard. "Fuck." She watches Ethan intently as he leaves the room. "What was that uncle?"

If it's a dirty word, it is one that Natasha embraces - dialogue is just as much for information as it is diplomacy, and many members of her network do a lot of talking. Words tend to generate more of them, and in her line of work, specifically, that is an especially important skill to have. When Aedric proposes his intent there, she shakes her head. "I think the idea is sound, save that I counsel you to be cafeful about the time and place of the meet, the kind of security you would bring, the terms of the parley and whether we obtain unequivocal assent from the count. I can assist with reviewing them if you need me to, uncle." She pauses when Ethan enters the room, watching him with that steady, incisive stare, before turning her face and all of its imperious luminosity to fix it on her husband. Finally, some visible humanity - even now she is unable not to demonstrate affection whenever Romulius is within her eyeline. "I'm afraid not, my love. From that camp, especially, I've heard nothing - though that isn't saying such whispers don't exist. I'll try and see if I can insert a more direct body among them."

Natasha is given a quick nod before Romulius's gaze sweeps over to his rising uncle, a brow lifted in interest as he awaits an answer to Quinley's question or for whatever individual he's summoned to arrive.

An officer of the Black Vanguard is ushered into the room by household guards. Although efforts to make himself presentable have been made in the voyage to Arx, the soldier's armor clearly needs to pass under a smith's hammer. Helm carried under his left arm with clear a d fresh creases, the right arm is freshly bandaged. He is trailed by a pair of sailors holding parcels wrapped in sailcloth. The soldier salutes and bows.

"My lords and ladies. I am Edric Spiehr, captain of pike at the garrison of the Sovereign Star in Tresova. I must inform my lords that a rebellion has risen on the island. As of three days past, apart from the keep, and Tresova harbor.. the whole of the island is lost. Fortifications and settlements alike. The rebellion was well coordinated, and the surprise was total. All of our garrisons outside the keep have been massacred. Our naval detachment still holds the capital harbor, and at last count, one hundred and twenty-four of the Black Vanguard yet defend Bloodstone Keep. All others are lost. The Seraph is slain, along with his Templars." The shaken soldier has woodenly powered through this prepared oration, faltering briefly once it is spoken, before rallying to conclude, "I was told to deliver these unto my Lord," producing a scroll case and gesturing toward the sailcloth parcel, about the size of a folded cloak. The scroll case is offered for inspection before being delivered to Aedric.

Aedric checks composure at hard. Aedric fails.

Aedric dips his chin when the officer salutes. Throughout the briefing, the baron's usually austere expression slowly deteriorates. His jaw locks. Tension radiates from his overtly gaunt and rigid frame. At its conclusion, he approaches the officer and accepts the parcel. "Feed him, permit him to sleep, then see him refitted and redeployed," the sailor tells Ethan, gaze never once leaving the soldier's features. "Come morning, you will return to Tresova and inform your commanders that they will soon be reinforced. Kill anyone you do not recognize, including those you suspect to be conspirators. Do you understand?"

Edric is given a nod of acknowledgment as he enters the dining room, though he's hardly begun to deliver his report when Romulius's expression curls into a snarl. A fist hammers into the table in front of him, silver and glassware rattling from the force of it. He continues to glower through the rest of the report, his response coming out very deliberately, "Thank you, Captain." That must be as far as he can maintain decorum, however, when cerulean darts to seek out its mirror in his uncle, "The time for patience with the Tresovans is at an end, Uncle - it should have ended after the wedding, truthfully. Our hand with them has been too soft; those who do not recognize the authority of their true Countess need to be eliminated with extreme prejudice."

As Captain Speihr delivers his report, Natasha's expression doesn't change and dark eyes draw inward again in thought - the fact that the Black Vanguard has been able to keep over half its number in Tresova despite what has befallen it is both surprising and not; they are well trained men and disciplined, and some of the best in the Isles. But the wheels behind that fathomless stare are most certainly turning, and it is only after a long, almost interminable silence before she speaks. "Again speculation but it wouldn't surprise me if House Carideo was either supportive of or instigated the rebellion after their assassination attempt during your wedding." This last to Aedric. "Captain, before you take your rest, would you happen to know who specifically is leading the rebellion in Tresova?" Lips purse at that. "The deaths of the Seraph and templars aren't surprising either - they've already done the same in other territories in the Isles, presumably to pave the way for the Antidominus to challenge the Most Holy."

"Grim." Quinley observes as she pours herself another glass. "Do we still want to talk to people?" The woman returns to her chair having identified the one possible blind spot of the bleak news Edric has shared.

Edric answers his lords and ladies with a second salute, answering Natasha with a mute gesture to the scroll case. Within it is an elegant letter. It reads:
%"To His Excellency, Baron Aedric Blackshore, Lord of New Hope, and his even more Excellent wife, Baroness Scylla, I send greeting and tribute.

The people of Tresova wish to express their profound gratitude to your Excellencies for your investment in undoing the recent damages inflicted upon them in the absence of Carideo rule, and I should like to add that your military engineers are especially talented. The coastal towers are truly works of art, and shall serve Tresova well for many years to come.

For all of this, my people and I are in your debt.

Alas that my letter could not end there, but alongside this generosity, my people have been stripped of the religion of their fathers and must watch as their names, culture, and very identities are swallowed into a Compact who has shown open contempt for any who speak, dress, or pray differently that they. We have watched the treatment of prodigals, we have seen their hatred for us, and faced with the choice between rebellion and oblivion, we have chosen rebellion.

Thus, attached to this letter I- the rightful heir of Tresova, who has never sworn fealty to Blackshore or Compact- send you the final tribute of Tresova to New Hope. Our home is our own, once again.

Do be good to my sister.

So writes Caius Carideo, by right of birth, oath, and conquest Lord of Tresova and Defender of the Burning Mountain."

Within the sailcloth is the pendant of the Seraph of New Hope, wrapped in a bloody Blackshore flag.

Aedric checks composure at hard. Aedric is successful.

Aedric opens the parcel and reads aloud.

For a moment, it is as if he is a child again -- inexperienced, frail, and frightened. Cowering away in the corner of a great dining room while Cornelius and Oswald scream and posture over trivial matters overheard at Argus' court. This was why he had fled from his home all those years ago. To escape the petty politics and evade the weight of responsibility passed on to him by blood.

Romulius strikes the table -- prompting the baron to snap to, having temporarily lost himself in some familiar and haunting memory. For a moment, he is convinced he stares at his older brother. The two bear a striking resemblance. They are, after all, father and son. He lowers his arm, gauntlet bringing the parchment to rest flat atop the table. A familiar coldness descends upon the man's features. "Quinley, travel to New Hope and rally the Black Vanguard. We soon sail for Tresova."

"Support for a civil war from abroad will be minimal, uncle. I don't doubt that Caius has been assisted by one of our Dagonite enemies, but until their involvement is overt I cannot turn any great part of the Leviathan upon Tresova to handle a group of upstart rebels." The Sword's violent temper is on full display, and it would be forgivable to think that he might fall into one of the episodes that has more than once left the manse's library a mess of broken furniture and spilled liquor. He, more than any, embodies the parts of their family's curse that lead to high emotion and violence. "Some irregulars can be spared, perhaps, but unless you can call upon our allies for direct aid, House Thrax's involvement will be restricted." He pauses, now, and takes on a tone that almost manages to border on accusatory, "I had warned you once already that leniency for the Levinites was a dangerous position. Caius and his supporters would have been easier to root out had we not lost our hold on the island outside of the harbor."

A moment later, Romulius adds, "If you can prove that their faith lies with Mangata's reflection, I could involve the Order." The prince's knights, though, would be far less tolerant of any cultists they'd turn up.

"Watch your words, Romulius. Your temper will do you no good here." One of Quinley's hands is clinched in a fist on the table and, with the other, she slowly sips her rum. "I can go to New Hope with the morning tide if that is what is needed. We must keep our heads and make wise decisions."

She falls quiet at that once the rest of the letter is read, but not for long. As directives are made, Natasha redirects her attention towards Aedric, examining briefly the play of emotions on Aedric's features. When she finally ventures to speak, her voice is quiet, though a hand reaches out to rest on the nearest set of Romulius' knuckles in a light touch as she addresses the Baron of New Hope. Fury, the cyclone of high emotion, is the prerogative of royal warriors - if nothing else, she often encourages Victus' own demonstrations of temper because in her opinion, Arvum needs the continuous reminder of what happens when House Thrax is wroth and burning with devoted intent and unchecked ambition. The last time it happened, they seized the Compact's crown.

She, on the other hand, cannot say the same - it is a right that she doesn't share. Whatever right to anger she may have has been denied her all her life, crushed under the weight of Donrai Thrax's influence. She has a cool head to keep at all times, relegating her to live as an automaton fueled by reason and cold calculus, and so it is no surprise that despite fragile tempers that dominate the dining room, her voice remains measured and unaffected. "If there were any survivors after the intended assassination of you and the Baroness, were any interrogated? There may be some information gleaned from questioning that could provide insight or ideas," she wonders. "And I think a conversation with my lady Scylla regarding her brother won't go amiss - I don't know how much she remembers, but if all of her memories have returned, what she knows could be instrumental in retaking it, or razing it."

"I have made my position on these matters clear, Romulius," the baron asserts flatly, leaning forward to rest the weight of his frame upon his palms. He shifts his attention to Natasha. "One was interrogated. All he confessed were his loyalties to Caius. Nothing of strategic significance was gleaned. Scylla ordered him to be executed shortly after." Aedric straightens his back. "When we complete our plans to secure the capital, I will notify you immediately. Concurrently, I intend to dispatch a messenger to Count Greywalke and determine his willingness to discuss this trade dispute." The sailor gestures toward the dining room exit. "That will be all for now."

Romulius shoots a glare to Quinley at her remark, but it softens after a few moments. It is far from the first time that his family has commented upon his temper. She is given a nod, finally, as he offers, "May the winds carry you there safely. Be sure that your ship has the necessary escorts." Then, Aedric is answering his nephew's outburst as flatly as he typically does, the elder Blackshore never managing to be baited by his nephew's sharp words. At his calling the meeting to a close, he is given a dip of his head as the prince rises, offering a hand to help Natasha to her feet. "I will be in touch, Uncle. Cousin. If we are capable of providing aid, you need only name it."

Natasha rests a pale hand upon Romulius's offered own, ivory starkly contrasted with the metallic bronze underlay of her husband's complexion, and rises smoothly and swiftly from her seat. Her hand tucked securely intk his elbow thereafter, she dips her head towards Aedric in acknowledgment. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to assist," she appends after the Sword of New Hope's parting, and once his more powerful frame starts to move, she follows with brisk, long-legged strides.

Natasha is overheard praising Aedric.

2 Blackshore Marines leaves, following Quinley.

3 Thrax Guards, 1 Thrax Elite Guards, Torsney, an attentive high strung law clerk leave, following Natasha.

Ballard, a grizzled mariner, 4 Thrax Guards, Natasha leave, following Romulius.