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**Maulbane** · 11-15-2013, 08:46 AM

[Image: workinprogressworkinprogress.png]

Taves Sesillian Marrowmore was thinking.

Maybe that was just an excuse to scribble.

He put the drawing away, inking his pen.

@ImagenAshyun

Spoiler:

@Osvaldas

Spoiler:

@Krilari @Ural

Spoiler:

He breathed contentedly, arching his wrist.

Before he realised he had one more letter.

Taking an envelope, he murmured to himself.

"I suppose there's no turning back, now. Hrm."

Taves Wrote:

Quote:To Thelwater, Warden of the Stormwind Western Stockade.

I am hereby enacting the fourth clause of the seventh entry of Stormwind regional penal law -

'No man accused of crimes equal to or greater than treason, sedition, conspiracy to overthrow or assassinate the crown (or those of dignified blood) may be expediently executed (or tortured unto confession to facilitate execution) while at least one purported victim holds the charge or charges in disrepute, and that adequate evidence has not been accumulated to support the claims of the plaintiff.'

- and I expect my wishes to be enforced until the situation invalidates this clause. The clause is to be directed to 'Cage Silverstack', interred in cell #6 of the entrance-wing, until further notice.

Lord Taves Sesillian Marrowmore.

**ImagenAshyun** · (This post was last modified: 11-18-2013, 08:13 PM by ImagenAshyun.)

((This was meant to be posted a couple days ago. Shut up.))

Spoiler:

**Maulbane** · (This post was last modified: 11-23-2013, 10:15 PM by Maulbane.)

Everything was happening as planned.

Maybe he didn't have to worry after all.

Taves Marrowmore had withdrawn to his study, to think and to allow the smallest risk possible of disrupting the beneficial situation for himself. If he was quiet and allowed himself no unplanned impact on his surroundings, the law and rule of logic dictated everything would stay the way it was. Plus, it would be shameful to wake up his own guests by some twist of fate.

He scribbled about what had happened today, accompanied by an innocent scene of a sheep navigating a brier. He was a prudent man foremost, so he didn't waste the parchment - he just drew over his existing musings. He let himself chuckle briefly - if anyone saw this, they'd assume it was some kind of esoteric demon-pact. At that thought, he bunched it up and threw it into a handbasket.

Gunther Colemann. He seemed like a good man. That said, every man would have aims to appear so. In his impatience, he'd told the priest things he'd only shared with Nemus - innocent things, but the lack of decorum in their reveal worried him extremely. Still, everything was going to plan. The Lord of house Colemann - by venal title only. His wife, that terrifying and disagreeable Elsamina woman, was apparently the blooded gentry. That had been a particular source of embarrassment for him. Nonetheless.

He trusted the priest's word, and Lord Colemann's word was very positive. He needed both of them - one having an embedded interest in the well-being of the boy along with the clout of the church, the other with the ability to diminish evidence against the boy. Without them, Cage Silverstack would definitely hang. Elsamina would gather evidence, including the testimonies of the soldiers present during the attack, as well as any official recordings of the boy's name - and the name of his lady-friend, Elizka, wherever they cropped up.

Gehardial Silversaddle. He struck himself as a particularly incorrigible man, but his gruffness and unaffected nature were breaths of fresh air. He could trust in the merchant's honesty, and, if that were the case, he had done very well in asking for his help. He'd no direct stake in the boy's survival - and there was a distinct point where he feared he'd painted himself a collaborator of the Defias in the venerable man's eyes - but the numerous benefits to trade he could receive were enough to sway him, it appear. He wouldn't reveal all of them to him, but Gehardial was a cunning man, and it was likely he'd figured them out himself. Without the possession of Cage and Elizka, as well as their information, he'd be unlikely to be able to capitalise on them anyway.

He knew that between the nobles he had called, the merchant's role both the most simple and the most crucial to the boy's survival. He would distract the larger nobles - bringing portion of his trade fleet into the city's dock without warning, as there is little the sizable gentry salivate over more than a well-publicised execution - save for the possibility of coin in such huge degrees. Of course, it would be a ploy - empty ships and wasted time. It would grant them at least a week of oblivion, which was all they needed to obliterate any evidence the boy had existed - within the Stockade or the Defias Brotherhood alike - and whisk him away.

Lady and Lord Winters had not responded to his message in any capacity - it was an act that threw his confidence, as he'd spoken with them more than either of the other nobles he'd commissioned. He would, in order to dismiss growing anxiety, put it down to a waylaid courier or inundation of messages, as nothing else seemed to make sense. Nonetheless, it had been too late and he'd have to continue without their contributions - which would have been the final security to his plans. He'd assumed there would be problems, though, and he would persevere past them, minor as they were.

He was cautiously optimistic. He was not particularly cunning nor was he even a little bit 'devious', but should all this work to his favor the benefits would be manifold. Now that he was so embroiled into the survival of the boy, he could hardly let him die, and neither could he allow the Defias Brotherhood to continue teaching youths like him that directionless crime was the way to express grievance. No - their leaders would be gathered; they would be sacrificed in lieu of the innocent. That was the only way that Cage Silverstack could live without fear. Without arrogance, it seemed all paths were leading to such a favorable resolution. He could only hope.

All they needed was a week.

**Maulbane** · 12-02-2013, 04:57 AM

He may have made a mistake.

He refused to call the situation 'dire'. It was hardly the worst-cast scenario, just the third-'till-last entry on the most unfavorable scenarios he'd thought possible. He could easily pull this situation back together - he just needed time. Of course, he thought as he stared at the blank piece of parchment, he didn't have time. Or ample resources at hand. Or even the benefit of being able to comfortably trust the people he needed to trust. That wasn't to say he was thinking pessimistically - they --- or, he --- still had plans and contingencies for this kind of thing. They'd been great ideas in his head.

Moonbrook had revolted. What a bastard of a thing. Of all the times for those idiots to rise up, it was when one of their own members was awaiting a hearing for treason, of all things. He huffed, swirling a pen in ink. He didn't have the disposition for this.

His plan would work. He needed only a few things - things an uneducated man could render; a respected member of the clergy, a paladin and an agent of Stormwind's security service couldn't possibly fail. Evidence - they had to twist it to their favor. Lying was not his strength, nor was manipulation, but being honest would only result in a young man's death. Eyewitnesses were the most crucial, as their word would immediately sentence him. He hoped he had stressed that enough to them. After all, they only had a day to prepare, now. Two, in a pinch. Obviously, they no longer had time to think things through - how horrifying.

The two seemed dampened when they arrived. He hadn't been in Sentinel Hill when it burned, or in Moonbrook when the Defias rose up, so he felt he wasn't in a position to speculate - but he had thought more of the young Cristovao. He would put most of it down to the lethargy of travel, but his demeanor was disappointing - he looked and sounded utterly beaten. Gunther was --- well, Gunther. The same mousy, unreadable Gunther Colemann. Amusingly, the most ornery and straightforward of them - Gehardial Silversaddle - had accomplished what was asked of him with impeccable timing. Perhaps transparency was the gift to a long life.

He smiled. One setback - maybe not a minor one, but not an unforeseen possibility in the slightest - had turned him to this. He was rambling, already making swift judgments of others. He looked at his writing - the structure was incoherent, the paragraphs all different sizes. This would hardly be acceptable. He ripped the page in two for emphasis, starting again.

Taves Wrote:For the reading of the Office of the Low Judicature, Stormwind Keep.

I am hereby revoking the fourth clause of the seventh entry of Stormwind penal law which was placed upon Cage Silverstack, interred in cell #6 of the entrance-wing. Additionally, I would demand for his hearing, originally scheduled for the twentieth, to be shifted to the Fourth of December, year 30. This request is corroborated by my own seigneural authority, as well as. . .

He set out his good clothes.

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