Rae and Benedict fight over the nJoJ and Weirmonken.
Benedict is in his room in the castle. By now, it is indisputably the Room where the King Works. He has his guards and his herald, and the herald has access to an appointment book. It's all horribly official.
Rae is horrible at making appointments. She may hate books that keep them. So when she's wandering the palace, discovers where Benedict's been taking care of his Kingly work, and finds a herald, she begrudgingly gives her name. And waits. It's almost patient.
The name opens the door about ten minutes later, and the Herald recites the name he was given, and bows Rae in. The King is looking over a small and slightly ragged notebook.
Those ten minutes are spent with Rae cleaning under her nails, pacing, and thinking of the fifty ways she could embarass the Herald but doing none of them. She enters as she's announced, and while she doesn't dip into a curtsey, she does dip her head a little. "Your Majesty."
Benedict says, "Viscountess Blukhav. Thank you for making the time. If you would give me the rundown of Weirmonken, starting with the time it was broken, then I will finally have proper eyewitness testimony I trust."
Maybe Rae didn't know Benedict was waiting for her. She is prone to ocassionally good timing. She clears her throat, then begins. "I was not within the Silverspire when it happened, but I was within the wood. The first snowfall of the year had just begun, when the snowflakes, and everything else, gained an edge of rainbow coloration."
Benedict says, "Mm. Go on."
Rae continues, "There was a cry from the Spirits of Weirmonken, and it was quickly followed by a roar... The type you can feel in every bone, even more than you can hear it. Everything went dark, and then a howl pierced the darkness, before the storm began. Snow became rain, red to match the lightning in the sky. Trees had fallen. Things were...just fundamentally wrong."
Benedict says, "How long did it take?"
Rae considers, briefly. "It all occured over a matter of minutes. The storm did not rage long, and when it finished...there was a sun." She seems angry at that last bit. Almost enraged.
Benedict says, "Some would consider that the natural state... and yet it is not how Weirmonken should be."
Rae nods. "It is not how Weirmonken should be, no." Another pause. "I was with three others at the time. At least two of us had some type of aftershock contact with my Reg...Prince Emrys." She looks a bit angry there, as well. It doesn't seem to be /with/ Emrys. "We traveled to where the Silverspire should be, but it was not there. Prince Bleys, however," and she sneers a bit, "Was."
Benedict says, "We'll talk about Emrys shortly, and the Regency. What did Bleys, there?"
Rae frowns. "He was within what he claimed was a warding circle, in the crater where the Spire once stood. He claimed that you had told him to observe the ritual Emrys was trying, when the attempt to fix it was somehow made to break it."
Benedict says, "I had asked him to observe; Brand had great reservations."
Rae nods. There is a moment of silence before she says, "I do not think the breaking was of Emrys's own doing. He was betrayed by something, by someone. And they critically wounded Weirmonken in the process."
Benedict nods slowly, as he thinks it through. "Mmm. And Bleys was there."
Rae admits, "I do not trust Bleys. I never have, starting from the day that I met him." There is another pause, and she withdraws something from beneath her blouse, dangling from a gold chain. It looks remarkably like the Jewel of Judgement. It even faintly throbs like it.
Benedict frowns just slightly. "Where did you get that?" His voice is careful.
Rae tucks it back into its safe place, which is close to her heart. "It was there in the crater as well. It seemed important. I took it."
"
Benedict tells her, "It belongs to me. And Emrys informs me that one should not keep it too long, for it will drain you."
Rae's chin lifts. "I have been told to keep it safe. To guard it. I have bled for it. I very nearly died for it. If you doubt that, you can ask Julian. We were attacked by creatures of Order, seeking it."
Benedict says, "Who knows you have it?"
Rae considers. "Bleys. Julian. Tristan. Emrys. Celeste saw it once, but only viewed it as something large and shiny."
Benedict says, "Given that Julian is likely to be planning a rebellion, and you do not trust Bleys... Do you know what it is?"
There is a moment of pause before Rae answers, "I have heard it called the Loupe, before. And I know that the Loupe is something that many desire. Both here, and within the numbers of Chaos and Axiom."
Benedict says, "The Jewel of Judgement is the prime crown jewel of our family, and one of my father's tools, and Dworkin's. It's what Emrys gave to me after my coronation, and I loaned it to him to do what he did with Weirmonken. I was waiting on him to get it back, because letting Julian know it was not in my hands would - hand, rather... It is best kept at the centre of things."
Rae's chin lifts again. "Then your brother, Bleys, should not have let it slip through his fingers, like it was worthless. I guard it, as I said I would. I will continue to do so."
"
Benedict says, "Mine," and there is something in his tone that will not have argument.
Rae's head shakes, slowly. "You travel down a spiral, and I will not willingly give you something that will only make the drowning come more quickly."
Benedict stands up. "It's not your right to choose. You don't get that."
Rae takes steps backwards from Benedict. They're quick things, the little Weir nimble. "I am tired of not getting to chose. I am tired of every choice being ripped away. I am tired of the weight of these chains that keep getting thrown on us."
Benedict points out, "I told Emrys what he had to do. Until Minos is fixed and Weirmonken can stand, you don't get to choose. I started it when I was a General, and I'll keep going in good faith. But I will have the Jewel in Amber, not in the hands of someone who can be blotted out by her enemies." He does not draw a weapon yet, but it can only be a matter of time.
Rae points out, "I have fought for this jewel more than anyone of your blood has, as of late. I have shed my blood and felt Order pierce through my body to keep it safe. I'm not going to go back on the words that I swore. I keep my promises."
Benedict says, "Sorry," and for once he does not sound sincere. He draws a knife, and then he hesitates and says, "I /am/ sorry it is you I take it from."
"Apologies that mean nothing are worth less than the air used to say them," Rae says, quietly. She withdraws a dagger herself, with a sigh.
Benedict points out, "That wasn't an apology. It's a statement of fact. The first one was an offhanded flippancy." He waits for a good moment to take another step in, herding Rae towards a corner far from the door.
RPG: Benedict compares his Resolve and the gifts BLD-OB SKL-AE FGT-PP against Rae's Grace plus a 3-Focus token and the gifts GLA-FW STY-SW. The dice are neutral. Benedict has a moderate advantage over Rae, and can inflict 1 consequence.
Rae doesn't waste her breath, or concentration, upon other words. She holds her dagger as if she's prepared to use it, even if her eyes speak of the fact that she wishes she didn't have to. She's herded, but she also seems ready to strike.
Benedict asks as he comes closer, "You know what I'm fed up with? People who think they can make /my/ choices. People who think that I should not control my destiny!" He makes a stab that cuts Rae's clothes over the jewel.
Rae winces only slightly at the stab, but the jewel is on a thick chain--it is not so easy to slash off. "You? You're fed up with it?" She gives a bitter, bitter laugh that carries none of the jester's usual tones. "Try being Weir, or any of the other countless others Amber has crushed under its heel so they can rule all!"
Benedict makes another cut, which includes bouncing his arm off Rae's to deflect a possible jab. Now he can see the chain and the jewel, if not actually take them. "If Amber wanted to rule all, I'd have had a bigger army," he says nonchalantly. "Children don't get wiped out. They get taught."
Rae's fur is ruffled, even if she is not wearing it. "You say we must stand on our own, but won't allow us to. You say that /we/ must, but it is Amber that leans on us all." Her arm is bounced by his, but her foot is not, as she lashes out for a sweeping kick.
Benedict lets the kick happen, flicking his front foot out of the way in a neat stamp that turns into a lunge, cutting away more of the shirt. Now there is a loose flap over Rae's chest. "Fucking invade my nation, you get all you ask for. Emrys couldn't handle being Regent, and he couldn't handle being a Prince of Amber. Stop crying and start acting like you're worthwhile, Weirmonken!"
Rae does not care enough for the shirt to mourn its death, or enough about modesty to attempt to cover her chest. Her skin ripples, like there's something beneath it, turns a violent black and then almost a shimmery white over her heart. "We are worth more than you'll ever admit," she growls out. "You took away the one that strengthened us and instead gave us a man that had already failed Amber. You took away our hope, damn it, after we have fought and died at your side, after we proved ourselves on the killing fields, fighting Amber's war."
Benedict hits with a sharp left to Rae's jaw. "Jones died in Weirmonken," he says as he wraps his left arm around Rae's knife-arm. Up close he tells her, "Three hundred men died, and Amber kept faith. Emrys asked and I damned well answered." He is too close for a knee, but near enough for a fist or maybe a headbutt.
Rae spits blood. She may be aiming for Benedict's face. "And we mourned his loss, gave thanks for his sacrifice. We have answered every time that Amber has asked. We have been willing to sacrifice over and over again. When it might have been considered treason to the throne at the time, we /still/ followed you, and all we've ever requested was our freedom." She doesn't go for a punch, but instead, a bite. Perhaps she's forgotten which form she's in.
Benedict grabs at the chain rather than taking advantage of Rae's mistake to hurt her. But then he levers upward, with her knife-hand still under his arm, and the jewel dangling from his fist. Most of the strain is on Rae's shoulder. "Be able to defend yourself. Be strong enough to help Amber. You can't be free without being in the Golden Circle, and you can't be in the Golden Circle if you are not capable of power. Learn." With a little more pressure he could put Rae's shoulder out of joint, but he does not do that. Instead, he keeps himself at risk from the blade and the kicks that might come his way, and the knife she could have in her other hand.
Pain is making Rae's color become pale, but she's still got fight in her. There's blood on her lips, now, and it is a reminder. "We /have/ been," she rumbles, "But you refuse to see it. Or admit it." She twists in his grasp, and almost seems willing to sacrifice the shoulder to get in a stronger punch.
Benedict says, "You have," and then grunts as Rae hits him in the face, but a blow that should have broken his nose just doesn't, and he jerks her arm up higher instead, with a sick crunch. "Don't - /please/ don't anger me?"
Rae's world swims as her joint crunches, and she sways slightly. "You infuriate me," she says. It's an attempt at a growl, but pain only makes it a whimper. "I am so tired of you and yours taking what they want and giving little to nothing in return. Of being crippled every time we regain strength." The jewel dangles there, against her chest, as she shakes out the hand that failed to break his nose.
Benedict unhooks his arm from Rae's, letting her dangle from the chain for a moment, but that is only so that he can sort out his hand and hold the chain by one strand alone. Now it is an open loop. "You think I ordered Bleys to tear Weirmonken?" He is halfway between incredulous and angry.
Rae would likely be able to put more emotion into her face if she wasn't dangling by a golden chain. "I never said that," she remarks quickly, clippedly. "But you took away the closest thing we've /ever/ had to being led by one of our /own/."
Benedict starts trying to wriggle the chain over Rae's head. "No. Once, Weirmonken led itself, and twice it came against Amber. If Emrys cannot stand up to Julian, then he can still wriggle from under; fix the Minos path. Let your lands be defended without the men I brought in. You are too young to remember the wars and the burnings. I hate the smell of damp fur on fire, because it means there has been another slaughter in Weirmonken. I will not have war, and so you must have my peace. I did not say you had to do it alone, or in despite of my brother. I am King, not he."
The chain slips from around Rae's slender neck, and Benedict gains with it a few speckles of her blood from where it dug into her flesh. If her hair was longer, wild like it once was, it might have been harder. She thunks to the ground quietly and scowls up at Benedict. "You were never meant to be King," are the only words she seems to have left for him.
Benedict says, "Like I said. Nobody gets to choose my destiny. My father never meant anyone else to be King at all, I think. Yet five in five years have warmed the throne, counting the original incumbent."
Benedict has dropped his knife, although it should be be assumed that he is no longer dangerous.
Rae still has her dagger, or has at the least regained it. "It would have been better, if you had given the throne to Gerard," Rae says, as she withdraws a single trump from her pocket. "At least then our final days would be ones filled with mirth."
Benedict says, "It would be better if there were free ponies."
The contact with Emrys comes like an icy wind.
The image of Emrys ahs apparently just stood up from a tub of water full of blue bubbles, the water running down his skin. "Rae."
Rae's reply to that is a dark look, one that is full of wolfy hunger. A Weir has little use for a horse, aside from its meat, after all. She's still looking at Benedict as she holds a hand out towards the air.
To the image of Emrys, Rae is on the floor of the Lilac room, her neck and mouth bleeding, her shirt cut open. The jewel is no longer there. A hand is held out in silence.
The image of Emrys mutters, "Fuck." He holds out a hand.
Benedict turns to walk back to his desk, unafraid. He puts on the jewel as he goes. "You're giving up hope. That's a bad habit. You're letting despair choose what /you/ do."
Rae spits blood on the floor and says, "I have never given up hope. I simply grow tired of games that cannot be won." And with that, she accepts the hand that's being offered from the other side.
You reach forward and grasp Emrys's hand.