Faywyn, 3rd Moon, 6th Day, 1624 Symfora Telos

  As the sun crept above the horizon, its light spilled across the green bailey and cast long, golden beams into the grand hall of Faywyn Keep. Levi strode into the chamber, his boots clicking against the flagstones. Around a sturdy oaken table at the centre of the hall, his councillors were already gathered, their faces tense with expectation. At the far end, Aden sat impassive, his expression inscrutable.

  Levi took his place at the head of the table, opposite the grizzled lord, and felt the faint easing of tension among the men. “Good morrow to you all,” he greeted, his voice steady and firm. A chorus of acknowledgements followed.

  Behind him, Sarah, the Keep’s housekeeper, entered carrying a stack of scrolls. She placed them neatly at Levi’s right before settling herself at a smaller table to his left, where parchment, ink, and quill awaited her.

  Clearing his throat, Levi began, "We've convened to address matters of import this day, as I'm sure you are all keen. But before we delve into that, let us welcome a new addition to our assembly. Meet Madam Eliza, proprietress of Faywyn's alehouse. Some of you may know her already; I mentioned her arrival before I departed for Towleigh last week. Though a formal introduction is warranted. She represents the Creed of the Twins, bridging between Souville's governance—ourselves—and Lady Vaiu, the Creed's Matriarch.

  "Thank you for having me, My Lord," the middle-aged woman said, nodding slightly towards Levi.

  “The pleasure is mine,” Levi replied, gesturing to the men around the table. “From my right to left, you’ll meet the pillars of this council. Viscount Lancelot of House von Dragoon, my Hand. Opposite him sits Steward Robert of House Dywn. To his left, Knight Commander Ser Carter of House Twine, followed by Master Gunner Ser Turiel of House Liss, and Knight Lieutenants Ser Mannon and Ser Justin.”

  Each man gave a nod as his name was spoken, though their expressions were guarded. It was evident they harbored reservations about the newcomer’s presence.

  Levi’s gaze shifted theatrically to Aden. “And, of course, my venerable sire, Lord Aden von Grifenburg, Lord of Faywyn and Governor-Protector of the Province of Souville.”

  Aden regarded Levi with a measured squint, his suspicion evident, but Levi merely smiled in return. “As per his request,” he continued, “my Lord-Father will observe today’s proceedings as a spectator. And as per his request, I shall preside.”

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  The young lord straightened, his expression hardening. “First on the agenda: the massacre at Longboat, Mells, and South Rock. I have decreed a bounty for the Forest Wolves. One hundred silver thales for each head, a gold royal for each prisoner taken alive. Steward Robert,” Levi turned his gaze to the steward, “Steward Robert has already earmarked three hundred gold Royals for this purpose. Ser Justin—"

  "Aye, My Lord?"

  "—You will lead a delegation of ten men to parley with the mountain tribes. Offer the bounty and secure their cooperation. Choose your men wisely. If met with hostility, withdraw at once. Confrontation is to be avoided.”

  “As you command, my lord,” Ser Justin replied, bowing his head.

  “Ser Mannon,” Levi continued, his voice sharp and commanding, “as of today, you are named Captain of the Watch. Begin reconstituting Faywyn’s Watch with haste. Employ idle villagers displaced from their home if necessary and consult with Robert for funding.”

  “It shall be done, my lord,” Ser Mannon replied, a faint smile softening his lined face.

  Levi returned his attention to Ser Justin. “Upon your return, you shall assume the role of Captain of the Watch in Mallowston. Consult with Ser Lancelot in overseeing the town’s reorganization. He will govern it in my stead.”

  Levi’s eyes swept the table. “Any objections?”

  Silence followed.

  “Good,” Levi said. His tone shifted, growing heavier. “Now, to the matter of Tristan’s host amassing at our borders. Madam Eliza has kindly shared intelligence that the Lion of Khule plans to advance through the Strega. Knights, levies, and mercenaries gather at Ricos, with war stores accumulating at the harbour. According to Steward Robert’s estimates, their forces will be ready to march within two or three weeks.”

  He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “We must act swiftly. While our soldiers are better trained and motivated than their peasant levies, we cannot withstand a prolonged siege nor can we expect any of our fellow lords to come to our aid, as preoccupied as they are..”

  He turned his gaze to Aden. “To allow Faywyn to fall under siege is to invite disaster. To prepare for one is to invite it. We must meet Tristan’s forces on our terms, not his.”

  “And how would you achieve that, son?” Aden asked, his tone cool, though a flicker of interest danced in his eyes.

  Levi stood and began pacing the room. “A softening blow,” he said. “Tristan’s weakness lies in his supply lines. His forces rely on the Strega to transport men and provisions swiftly. If his boats are rendered useless, his army must march through the bogs and woods—a slow, treacherous journey that would extend their trip from mere weeks to a months-long affair.”

  The hall fell silent. "...And how does the lord propose we achieve this?" Lancelot asked, leaning back into his seat.

  The earl turned to smile at his viscount. "How, you ask? Simple..."

  "We use Fire-ships."