[Archive] The Rise of Alphros, Lord-Steward of Farside

_-' Throne Room `-_

This room is the embodiment of the power and majesty of Farside, made darker and more mysterious by the onset of night. Above and behind the white marble throne, the stained glass window of the Tower's standard, a black raven with wings spread against a purple background, glitters in the torchlight. Shadows play across the room, the flickering light reflected back in the criss-crossed longswords mounted on the walls, taken from defeated Gondorian foes.

A roll of thick purple carpet covers the approach to the throne from the west, ending at the feet of the dais where the throne sits. Pillars line the sides of the aisle, standing ten paces apart. The marble throne itself shimmers in the torchlight, catching the highlights of its carving and bathing whoever sits on the throne in shadows.

The walls are accoustically sound, and both echo and amplify all noise within the chamber so that even the softest whisper can be heard aloud.

***

By the light of torch and moon, a procession is arriving into the throne hall of the Farside Tower. Many of those servants who still wander the halls, and others in the still-quiet Tower, follow it out of curiosity, forming an impromptu throng whose murmurings and whisperings draw out others from neighbouring chambers.

The veiled Tower Captain of Farside, Alphros anAzulada, leads the procession. Behind him come a dozen Tower guardsmen, four bearing a long pallet between them. Something long and human-shaped lies upon it, covered by black cloth.

She'd been told to speak to the Steward, but that wasn't happening exactly. Instead there was a big run-around and delay, where no one seemed to really know who she should talk to. And so it is that Su'ad, a stranger to Umbar City, happens to be in the throne room when this august procession arrives. But when others bow, she does not, but keeps a keen gaze on the principles.

Behind this procession trails a woman swathed in a robe of red silk - the tower enigma, Azradi. Corsair of Farside Tower who has curiously been placed in the guest rooms rather than the barracks.

Once inside the Throne room, she slips quietly to the side and watches the proceedings with kohl-lined almond eyes.

The procession makes its way to the middle of the room, where all the folk of the Tower gather about. Perhaps once, years ago, this would have been a mighty throng beneath the Raven of Farside, but now it is scattered and spare. Still, there are more people here than there would have been even weeks ago in the long-abandoned, half-deserted tower. And there are words aplenty to be heard, as the guards lower their burden to the floor at the center of the great chamber.

At their fore, Alphros ascends to the middle of the throne dais and pauses to turn around and face those gathered. There are those constancies about the lordling-turned-Tower Captain as always his veiled likeness, and the cats that ceaselessly prowl after him.

         He takes a moment, appearing to survey those gathered. First his eyes mark out Azradi, and his lips -- all that is bared by the veil -- twist into a faint smile. That smile is quirked by a hint of uncertainty at the presence of Su'ad. He shoots her a decrying glance, and at least one guardsman eyes her warily.

"What an odd bunch this is..." Su'ad murmurs under her breath. She glances at the woman at the back of the procession, giving her an almost compassionate gaze before staring more openly at the Tower Captain. Her lips twitch slightly, and she shifts on her feet when she seems to catch the attention of a few. She must not be fitting in. So she leans toward the tower guard who eyes her and says in a clipped tone, "I seek employment in this tower." Nuff said.

The Corsair Azradi's countenance is veiled by will, not sheer silk. But a smile of similar nature meets that of the Captain. Her eyes are for him alone in that moment...until, perhaps sensing his unease she shifts her gaze to its source - Su'ud. She looks the woman up and down, appraising, ere her attention is once more commanded by Alphros.

"The one you seek is there," the guards answers gruffly, and he gestures... but does he gesture at the cloth-covered pallet upon the floor, or the Tower Captain upon the dais?

Alphros, for his part, clears his throat it is not hard to garner silence from the modest crowd gathered. And thus, with little pause, he speaks: "Folk of Farside, you know of all that has occurred in recent weeks... and of the last, most fell deed, done against our Tower. Lhekor, our Lord Steward of Farside, struck by an assassin's blade... and now gone to the secret fate of men." He gestures, and one of the guards draws back the black cloth upon the pallet, revealing the lifeless visage of the Steward. "For all the will and skill of this Tower's healers, he is passed."

Su'ad sucks in her breath. "Bad time, indeed." she says to herself. Or perhaps it is a good time. "Assassin's blade?" she asks the guard who gestured so vaguely. "I had heard that he had choked or was poisoned or something." Once again she eyes this odd man with the gold veil and the red lips.

With the revelation, Azradi's gaze leaves the Captain and wanders, not to the dead Steward, but to the men and women gathered around in witness. She appears to study the reactions made by these faithful servants and guardsmen.

There are questions and whispers aplenty, and perhaps a few isolated shouts, though such is hardly so unexpected rumours fly in the corridors of Towers, and the Steward had lay fallen and unseen for more than a week hence. So it is that Alphros is able to speak atop the din in short order:

     "We shall grant Lord Lhekor a proper burial, as is his due. But with no heir, I -- as Tower Captain of Farside -- shall take his place as Steward. So be it."

      As this is said, a second guard kneels beside the former Steward's lifeless visage and anoints his brow with black paint in the manner of his particular clan.

Su'ad purses her lips in something akin to disapproval, but feels it is wiser to stay silent for now. She moves laterally through the crowd, observing their reactions carefully and trying to avoid too much notice. She comes to a stop on the other side of the throne room, next to Azradi, and folds her arms in a self-hug.

Sparing a glance and nod of her head for Su'ud, the red-swathed woman advances, weaving her way through the crowd. Once more Azradi's eyes are fixed on the veiled Captain. Her lips smile and perhaps five paces from the dais, she sweeps aside her robe to reveal a scimitar hanging at her side. This she draws swiftly...

...and falls to her knees, bowing her head. She lays the sword at his feet, lifts her eyes and pronounces, loudly for all to hear: "My lord Steward!"

Others follow Azradi's example old loyalists of Farside who knew the veiled lordling in times past, or those of the Salkathorim among the crowd, and perhaps a few others either following the path of opportunity, or secret reasons of their own. But plenty do not, but why should they? He is but the newly-made Steward, not a Lord of Umbar.

For his part, Alphros nods his head in thanks and acceptance, and gestures for Azradi and the others to rise. "My thanks for your faith, fellows of Farside. I shall not disappoint in my stewardship of our home. Not at all, for the time of Farside's slumber is at past. There shall be lights aglow in our halls once more, and new pennants shall rise-- and who will join me in this?"

The throne room is densely popluated, or at least densely populated relatively speaking to recent years or even months. People stand about, staring at a litter that sits on the floor before the throne. A figure lies on the litter, once shrouded in black, and even now a guardsman seems to be drawing a line of black across his brow in some sort of ritualistic manner. Upon the throne, the Tower Captain Alphros sits, veiled and becatted. People in the crowd whisper murmurs among themselves, but there is a hue and cry that rises, hailing Alphros, the new Steward of Farside.

Her intent accomplished, Azradi rises, sheathes her scimitar and backs away from the dais. She moves to the side of the throne and looks out upon the crowd. Her gaze appears to seek out and linger upon those who do not declare their allegiance to the new Steward.

Su'ad glances around at the people in the throng, and her hand moves to her belt, holding something close to her. Then with some reluctance, awkward as one unused to it, she also raises her voice with the crowd, verifying Alphros in his new station.

Alprhos' gaze moves from Azradi and fixes on Su'ad. He inclines his head towards her, and steps a few paces down the dais.

     "I am afraid I do not know you," he addresses the foreign Corsair. "Such that you could be offering your loyalty to the new Steward of Farside?"

Into the throne room, a small robed figure, dressed in black hurries. Her manner is nervous, her black hair scattered her youth obvious. The acolyte looks around and her hand seems to go involuntarily to her mouth, her index finger nail entering it before she stops quivering.

The strange corsair woman smiles...smirks, almost, but steps forward and inclines her head gracefully. "I was merely trying it on for size, my lord...seeing how it rolls off the tongue, as it were." She smiles and bows deeply now with a flourish of one hand, her other still pressed against her waist. "For I do seek a tower where I might rest my head, and a ship where I might plough the seas and harry the western world."

The movement by the doors does not go unnoticed by Azradi. She looks curiously at the young acolyte just arrived. Glancing once to the Steward, she moves away from the dais and approaches her, smiling "May the Eye be with you."

Coughing nervously, the young acolyte nods and then, her voice barely above a whisper says, "Her Eminence, the High Priestess of Nurn and Umbar, to see Lord Alphros..."

"You have the look of a Corsair of the Gimilzain," Alphros notes speculatively. There is a glint of thoughtfulness in his eyes. "One who knows the Haven well. No?"

     He twists slightly as he hears the words of the acolyte, directed to Azradi.

Su'ad bows her head, and that wry smile returns. "Aye, my Lord. I have spent the last few years there." But then the small voice of the newcomer also catches her ear, and when he turns to look at her, she turns as well.

"The Steward," Azradi assures, smiling wider, "Will be delighted to see her eminence, I'm sure."

"Please follow me." The rather refined Corsair leads the Acolyte across the room to where Alphros stands speaking with Su'ud.

Alphros glances at Azradi as she approaches, and so he quickly concludes his business with Su'ad for now. "Then consider yourself welcomed into this Tower, Corsair, and the roof of Farside to be yours."

      Then he turns to Azradi and the acolyte.

Trying to hide her quivering, the slight acolyte follows Azradi across the room, her steps quick, but mincing.

Su'ad bows. "I thank you, my lord. Farside will flourish under your rule." She backs away, allowing others to the fore.

"This young woman bears a message from her Eminence, lord-Steward" Azradi explains simply to the Steward of Farside. She gestures to the dark-clad acolyte beside her.

Alphros affixes his gaze on the acolyte, patiently awaiting her word.

The quivering acolyte nods and sort of half-curtsies before remembering herself and straightening. "Um, Lord, Um, Alphros, sir, Her Eminence wished me to tell you that she is here to, um, see you."

A more impatient man might give a sigh of exasperation, but Alphros merely nods and gestures. "My thanks. Please tell Her Eminence immediately that I would keep her waiting no longer."

And certainly this is of note to those gathered. A hushed whisper makes its way around the hall.

The acolyte bows her head for a moment and stops trembling long enough to scurry out as fast as her legs will carry her.

While they await the arrival of the High Priestess, Azradi looks to the former Captain speculatively.

One of his cats meanders over to the red-clad Corsair and twines about her ankles. She does not look down.

Into the room, back ramrod straight, signature salt-and-pepper hair piled so that not a hair is out of place, comes the unmistakable figure of the High Priestess. Her robe is shiny and black and cleaner than it ought to be having come through the desert and the look on her face bears a slight resemblance to a smile.

If he is impatient, Alphros hides it well-- certainly he shows no such sentiment in front of the High Priestess as she enters. The cats that gather about him seem fond of her, for their part, for they greet the mistress of the Dark Citadel with attention-seeking meows and idle stretches.

Many among the gathered folk -- Eye-worshippers or those in fear of the Dark Religion's power -- bow or make gestures of supplication as Mara passes. Others, such as the Corsairs of the Salkathorim, do not, though none dare disrespect the High Priestess.

"Your Eminence," greets the newly-named Steward with a bow of his head. "It is an honour to have you within the halls of Farside."

Su'ad moves toward the back now, content to merely watch the proceedings. The High Priestess is given all the deference she is due, and perhaps then some, for her face is guarded and her eyes wary of the woman of the Dark Citadel.

Standing beside and a little behind the Steward, Azradi inclines her head likewise, and murmurs quietly, "Your Eminence." She then falls silent.

The small high priestess smiles and leans down to scritch one of the cats on the head. "It is good to see you where you should be, Lord Alphros. May the Eye be with you and continue to bless you and the people of Farside with such good fortune." Her voice has a soft melodic cadence and there is a definite undercurrent of pleasure in it."

Alphros glances to either side for a brief moment, before dipping his head. "My thanks again, Eminence. In such times as these, I do what I must, and what I will. Was there... something of which you wished to speak with me?" he enquires, words rife with his curiosity.

"I wished to speak to you about an interesting rumor that I have heard wind of," the slight high priestess says, still smiling. "There are rumors going around of troop preparation. I came to see if there was anything I could do to help."

Alphros clears his throat. Perhaps, if the veil did not cover his face, one might glimpse the lordling blushing. Or perhaps not. Either way, there is a distinct and uncomfortable pause before he answers.

     "The Eye indeed sees everything," he answers the High Priestess. "And it is true, your Eminence. Such I did not seek to declare, for in times as these it may be calling doom upon my head. But it was by your hand and grace I was made Tower Captain, and so before you and all gathered here I shall say it."

      Alphros address all in the hall now, though he still speaks first to the High Priestess: "Long has Umbar languished beneath shadow and chaos. Long have the harbours been empty of the music and plentiful bounty of war. Long has a tyrant lorded over us from the Tower of Black." He looks to Mara: "I seek to end that tyranny, your Eminence. One way or another. The council of the Tower Lords that has ruled Umbar for centuries and more must be restored. We must resume our war against the North Kingdom of Gondor. And yes, I seek to claim the Lordship of Farside, and I mean to prove my worth through true and honourable means as did the great Lords of all-- by proving my worth in battle against our foes. Against Gondor."

     "And with such as these-- the true lords and ladies of our city, the Corsairs," he gestures to those gathered, Azradi and Su'ad among them.

Looking slightly surprised as the Steward begins his announcement, Azradi looks sharply to him. But once uttered, once committed, she smiles and a strange light appears in her eyes that might be interpreted as...pride.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," the slight high priestess dimples. "You have my support, such as I can offer. It is time, past time, that Gondor remembered what the Dark Lord's wrath tastes like."

Su'ad shivers as a chill travels up her spine. It is both good and grim. She looks at the faces of the people of Farside once again, noting their faces and actions, for she will be working with them.

"If Mordor would lend its strength to ours," answers Alphros, "Then you would have my gratitude, Your Eminence, and Umbar's thanks. For I have heard that the pale knights of the north have long crusaded in Harondor against the tribes abandoned by the short-sighted leaders that have since reigned in Umbar, and made great progression there. I mean to throw them back. And who is with me?" he asks, looking about.

"I am with you!" Su'ad shouts from the back of the room, without hesitation.

"I am, lord-Steward!" cries Azradi immediately, throwing back her head proudly. Quick on the heels of her declaration, the Salkathorim raises their voices of support as well.

So it is that voices are raised, and perhaps the Captain-turned-Steward looks pleased-- or relieved. And so Alphros says to Mara: "Farside rises again, High Priestess, and will march against Gondor to prove her worth. Will Mordor send its aid?"

"Mordor will send its aid so that Gondor may learn the meaning of fear," the slight high priestess says, her smile growing stil broader.

Su'ad seems both thrilled and troubled with the plans laid out today. She takes a deep breath and smiles a thin smile. "May the Eye see all, and give us strength and cunning." she intones.

"Then you have my thanks, High Priestess," answers Alphros, stepping back. "And let not the preparations be delayed-- I shall attend to them immediately, so that none may doubt the seriousness of my intentions."

Like a well-rehearsed dance, Azradi steps back and to the side to give the Steward room. Her gaze, resting speculatively on the High Priestess, shifts to Alphros, questioning.

With that, and one final bow, the Steward passes out of the hall and beyond.

As the Steward leaves, Su'ad takes a deep breath, and indeed the whole hall seems to move now, as if it had been transfixed, mesmerized by his presence. Su'ad lingers a bit though, just watching.

Inclining her head once more, Azradi says, "Your Eminence," and then follows the Steward out of the room. Most of the cats have already trailed after Alphros but some few linger around the Corsair and High Priestess these gather around the woman of Farside and dash ahead, tails upraised, in search of Alphros.