"I come with a peace offering." Buorlan said as he walked down the Chamberlain's office with a bottle of whisky held out before him.
The window behind the desk let in a sliver of moonlight. An inviting fire crackled in the fireplace.
Silnan looked up from his desk with a grim expression.
"I'm here as a friend and former student." Buorlan continued. "I just wish to talk like we used to."
Silnan relaxed back into his chair. "Go on then, boy, pour me a drink."
They shared a brief smile.
Silnan rose from his chair with effort and walked over to one of the sofas. Buorlan poured two glasses. His mentor had once been the strongest generals in Ealrian's recent history. Buorlan still saw the proud swordsman when he looked at Silnan. Since becoming a politician his appetite and penchant for drinking had caught up to him. Buorlan handed over a glass of whisky. Silnan relaxed into the sofa; his shirt buttons pulled tight around his middle.
Buorlan placed his glass on the table and looked down at his hands. "I wanted your advice on Midnight."
Silnan let out a sharp laugh. "So you don't intend to apologise for the trouble you have invited?" He spat the words like poison.
Buorlan cracked a smile. "I know how you feel about insincere apologies. I don't regret my previous decisions but I would like some advice on where to go from here?"
"Commission wanted posters to be placed around the city."
Buorlan grimaced. "I will appear weak relying on the public's help to catch her."
Silnan shook his head. He leaned back and rested his glass on his stomach. "You miss the point. To catch a criminal like Midnight you need her to make a mistake. Wanted posters will make the common folk weary of strangers. Midnight will become paranoid and make a mistake. She will reveal herself in time.
"And if someone else catches her you can argue that the wanted posters altered the commoners and set the scene for her capture. Take the hit now, with your head held high, and take the credit later."
Buorlan sat up straighter. "I will."
"The best politicians…"
"...can talk their way out of anything." Buorlan finished smiling. "I know it well."
Silnan smiled and raised his glass. "We should drink to that."
Buorlan raised his glass and sipped. The whisky burned as it tricked down his throat and set a fire in his belly.
A comfortable silence fell. Buorlan's mind raced with his next argument. If he could convince his mentor to join their cause the transition of power would be far smoother. He didn't want to think of the alternative if he failed.
"Recently I have been brushing up on my Ealrian history."
"That's not like you. I remember standing behind you as you studied to make sure you didn't go gallivanting through the palace."
Buorlan cracked a smile. "I remember. I have been reading up on the royal massacre that preceded the Chalieu reign."
"Yes, turbulent time. The ghost assassins that killed all but one Enfir princess. Dane Chalieu united the nobles, rooted out the assassins and rescued the princess."
"He married the princess and ruled the continent of Ealrian for eighty years. The Chalieu bloodline has proven their right to rule." Buorlan added.
"I know where this is going." Silnan grumbled in a low tone. "Have you forgotten that King Dane had his eldest son from his first marriage marry his daughter? Kristis Enfir ran off days before being forced to marry her half brother. She started her own band of knights to protect her and wanted nothing to do with the throne.
"If that was the end I would agree with you. But Josia Chalieu hunted her down and dragged her back to Athon. She went mad, started a rebellion that almost wiped out this country and burnt the court to the ground."
"The Enfir's are gone. Josia Chalieu shouldn't be blamed for the actions of another. The Chalieu name has a right to rule."
"The Dustel's have the same right to rule. General Dustel saved Ealrian from annihilation after that very rebellion. King Gilliphis Dustel is a shadow of his grandfather but we will learn from this and ensure to train his son to be a better king."
"His majesty allows Volus too much power. Illrune is trying to put himself on the throne." Buorlan snapped.
"That's enough!" Silnan was flushed with anger. He breathed deep and calmed his temper. "I have known Illrune Volus for decades. He is a good man. If he is needed to puppet the king until an heir can take over then so be it."
Buorlan placed his whisky glass on the table. He had failed again to convince his mentor to help. Silnan was tired. His hair was thinning and wrinkles crested his strong features. The once courageous man was little more than a bulging shadow of his former self. Buorlan ran his fingers through his hair. It was clear his mentor had no fight left in him. Protecting the future of Ealria was a young man's fight; it was his fight.
Bourlan's new resolve brought a stab of pain. He couldn't risk Silnan working against him. The image of a dark night filled with screaming flashed through his mind. He felt the dagger slicing through flesh far too easily. He flexed his finger and picked up his glass. Buorlan swallowed hard.
He killed his father and now he was going to kill the only man who had shown him a fathers love.