1.1 The Table

"Who will challenge me?" Sisk looked around the long, yet uncomfortably narrow meeting room. Rather, the room was of an adequate width for the gathering: the table was entirely too big for the room. It dominated the floorspace, cramping the chairs that were arranged in perfectly spaced formation around the table--ten to a side, three to a head. The table itself was carved brilliantly with images of the bards who composed The Histories. Battles raged across the painted surface of the table as the carved wooden bards looked on with their lutes and pens and tablets in hand. Chairs rested around the table, ten to a side, three at each head. It was a little too ornate for Sisk's taste, as were the people seated around the table. His chief advisors had gathered in the room in an overly tidy fashion, much like the furniture. They were too pretty for their stations. They were mincing bureaucrats and unseasoned military men. He thought they rankled of too much money and not enough hardship.

It appears we're in need of another war. Soft men are crushed by hard times.

"Who would have the gall to march an army into the capital?" There were nods and murmurs of "no one".

"I will send messengers to the four Lords. They will see the reason in my invitation and join me in the capital to parley. Surely they can see that the people want the land united." Once again, there were nods accompanied by murmured affirmations.

"Good. Gerin Raevnes, draft up a Letter of Summons with the appropriate amount of pomposity to satisfy those relics. I'll be in my chambers."

Sisk pushed himself away from the table and stood. His advisers stood with him. They appeared to have only risen out of an overt desire to leave instead of respect for his position. He mentally noted who stood too quickly and who scurried away too much like a rat. Common rats are best crushed by the feet of commoners.