Page 76 of The War of Four Winters

The guard's expression remained skeptical. "The representative receives no visitors at this hour."

"The matter concerns tomorrow's proceedings," Niro replied evenly. "And the prisoner whose fate will be decided."

Something shifted in the guard's expression. She gestured to a junior officer, who disappeared through a side entrance. We waited in tense silence, the night chill settling deeper into my bones with each passing minute.

When the door reopened, a middle-aged elven woman appeared, her silver-streaked hair bound in a simple braid, her clothing practical despite its obvious quality. "I am Maelis, steward to Representative Seagrave," she announced, studying us closely. “Who seeks an audience at this hour?”

Niro straightened and lowered his hood slightly, allowing his distinctive features to become more visible. "I am General Niro of the Broken Blades, in service to King Ruith Starfall. This is Lord Elindir, the King's Consort. We seek shelter and assistance with tomorrow's Assembly proceedings."

Recognition flashed across Maelis' face, followed by a deep bow directed primarily toward me. "Lord Consort! General! Forgive me for not recognizing you immediately. We are honored by your presence. Please, follow me at once before you're noticed by unfriendly eyes."

She gestured for the guards to secure the gate, then led us quickly through the main courtyard, where even at this hour, guild members gathered around fire pits, sharing meals and conversation. Unlike the formal silence of blood clan compounds, laughter and music flowed freely here. Elves, half-elves, and even a few freed slaves who had found rare sanctuary within Craiggybottom's walls sat together in easy camaraderie, a living demonstration of the future Ruith envisioned.

I paused for a moment, struck by the scene before us. After navigating D'thallanar's rigid hierarchies and ancient prejudices, the contrast was breathtaking. Here, beneath simple paper lanterns of many colors, different peoples shared food and stories without fear or formality. A half-elven woman played a stringed instrument while an elderly elf sang verses in a language I didn't recognize. Nearby, merchant elves smoked and laughed, exchanging stories over a shared meal. Humans even moved among the Craiggybottoms, free of slave collars, and spoke to the elves directly.

This was what we were fighting for. Not just Ruith's life, though that remained my most immediate concern, but the vision he had dared to imagine: a world where such gatherings might exist everywhere, not just within the walls of a single progressive guild house.

"It gives you hope, doesn't it?" Maelis asked, noting my expression. "Most find it shocking when they first visit. The blood clans call us disorganized, undisciplined, lacking proper tradition." She smiled, pride evident in her bearing. "We prefer to think we're simply creating new traditions. Better ones."

"How long has Craiggybottom existed this way?" I asked as we resumed walking.

"Since our founding," she replied. "We began as a cooperative of traders who found strength in unity regardless of bloodline. The traditional houses tolerated us because they needed our ships and trade connections, but they never expected us to thrive." Her eyes swept the courtyard, taking in the vibrant community. "Yet here we are, generations later, still defying their expectations."

As we followed her through winding corridors toward Representative Seagrave's chambers, I felt a renewed sense of purpose burning through my exhaustion. Tomorrow would bring diplomatic battles, calculated words, and delicate negotiations—all to save one life that meant everything to me. But seeing Craiggybottom's diverse community reminded me that we were fighting for something far larger than personal happiness. We were fighting for a future where the boundaries between peoples might dissolve, where ancient hatreds could be set aside for shared prosperity.

A future worth any risk to secure.

The courtyard's joyful sounds faded behind us as we approached the Representative's chambers, but the promise remained. Tomorrow would test every skill I possessed, every lesson in politics and persuasion I'd learned at court. I would need to be a diplomat, strategist, and perhaps even manipulator to save Ruith from his father's calculated vengeance.

But tonight, I had been given a precious gift: a glimpse of the world we were trying to build, thriving despite all odds in the most unlikely corner of D'thallanar. If House Craiggybottom could create this haven of equality within the very heart of elven tradition, perhaps our larger vision wasn't as impossible as our enemies claimed.

With that thought burning like a torch against the coming darkness, I straightened my shoulders and prepared to meet our host. We had plans to make, alliances to forge, and a king to save.

RepresentativeSeagravemetusin her private study, a room that embodied the Craiggybottom ethos. Practical furnishings stood alongside rare treasures from distant shores. Maps covered one wall, charting trade routes across known seas. The opposite wall displayed weapons of diverse origins, each telling its own story of cultural exchange. Unlike the traditional clan leaders who dripped with jewels and ceremony, Seagrave wore simple clothing that spoke of function over ostentation. Only the quality of the fabric and the subtle embroidery of her house's sail and star emblem betrayed her status.

"Lord Consort. This is an unexpected honor. And General Niro. I had hoped you would find your way to us."

"We appreciate your hospitality, Representative. Especially given the risk," I replied.

She straightened, her weathered face creasing with a smile. "Risk is the foundation of worthy enterprise, Lord Consort. It's why the Craiggybottoms have prospered while others merely endure." She gestured to comfortable chairs arranged around a low table where a simple meal awaited. "Please, sit. You look as though you've traversed the thirteen hells to reach us."

"Nearly so," Niro commented dryly, accepting the offered seat with the careful movements of a man who hadn't properly rested in days.

"You've seen him?" Seagrave asked as servants poured warm spiced wine. She dismissed them with a gesture, ensuring our privacy.

"Briefly. He's alive, though they've treated him poorly. Tarathiel means to make a spectacle of his execution."

"Unless we prevent it." She leaned forward, eyes sharp with intelligence. "The Primarch believes tomorrow's vote is merely procedural. He expects the Assembly to rubber stamp his son's execution with the appropriate ceremonial gravity."

"Yet you have doubts," Niro observed.

"More than doubts." Seagrave smiled, the expression carrying the confidence of a merchant who knew she held a winning hand. "I have certainties."

She rose and moved to a locked cabinet inlaid with pearl and abalone. From it, she withdrew a sealed scroll. "Our formal declaration for tomorrow's session, reconfirming House Craiggybottom's unwavering position. We continue to stand with Ruith Starfall. Publicly and without reservation."

"Your early support for Ruith has cost your clan," I said, acknowledging the risks they'd already shouldered.

"And will probably cost us more before this ends." She gestured to the map covered wall. "But make no mistake, Lord Consort. The traditional houses would eliminate us without hesitation if they believed they could manage without us. Our survival has always depended on disrupting the status quo."

---