Snippet #1588947

Occidens Castle, an upper chamber.

A large, aged map was sprawled over an even larger and more ancient oak table. Thick black ink, dulling only now in its later years, crawled over the map this way and that, spider-webbing off in every direction, forming provinces, borders and rivers. In elegant script were written the names of every city, every town and every village, every important land mark and anything else of note. This was an important map. This was a map of the known world. Shadows danced over and over the surface of the map, candlelight and torchlight doing their best to illuminate as much of the large room in which the map was being debated over. All around the table stood men of various importance in the kingdom of the West. They wore the armour of generals and soldiers, the robes and badges of office of the advisors and councilmen and all were bickering back and forth with each other. The noise was a cacophony of defended opinions, slamming fists and thinly veiled insults. The War with the Southern Kingdom had barely begun and the West was already chewing upon itself. For a moment, there was calm and two men began to speak.

"You're an idiot then, if you think that you can just march through that open plain and expect them to not place ambush points here, here and here." An armoured general, scarred and bearded, spoke forcefully, his finger thrust plainly upon the map. Small figurines depicting different units within the Western and Southern armies had been placed in their supposed positions upon the map and were being adjusted and re-adjusted as the war council continued.

"I may not have as many scars as you do, Sir General, but, I, too, have raised a blade or two in battle and I realize the truth in what you're saying. But, if you could just look towards the bigger picture... " A councilman offered, his facial hair trim and his eyes narrowed. He had been steadily rising the political ranks in the Western Kingdom for some time now and his mind was as sharp as his tongue.

"Damn you and damn your bigger picture! We're focusing on this assault right now. I would lose hundreds of men in those ambushes, needlessly, just to gain hardly an inch of ground! How about we armour you up and send you out there to lead and see how well YOU do?" The General retorted, his face flooding red with his frustration. More soliders spoke up, offering strategies and recollections of their triumphs and of the politicians inaction. The chamber descended into chaos once more. Every man in the room, from the highest general to the lowliest of servants stood in this room. Everyone except for one man.

King Garro Tylurian Occidens sat upon a large chair, elevated upon a plinth so that it could look down upon the map, as a bird looks down upon the fields over which it flies. He sat with a sneer on his face, his lips curled cruelly. Even sitting down, he was an imposing looking man, his muscles coiled for an attack at any moment. His hair, darkest black and greasy half hung over his eyes, and with the orange glow of the fires, gave his face a shadowed and intimidating look. A half drunk goblet of wine stood upon one of the arms of his chair, waiting to be consumed. He was quiet, for the moment, though the irritation from which he suffered at the hands of all these gathered men was easy to see. He reached for his sword, never far away, and gripped the pommel tightly. The sword remained in its scabbard, as was his intention, and he thumped the end of the scabbard upon the ground at his side four times. Every man in the room froze, further debate stopped before it could leave their lips. The King eyed each man in turn, from advisor to general, before returning his eyes to the map once more.

"We take it all."