Mission Deliberation

“How is it that everything you have placed on my lap tinkles and claps to the tune of extremism and zealots? Friar Balvaris; zealot. We must assume he is aware that you possess this half of the tusk. Yes I’ve seen your Ivory fang dangling all over the Great Hall. I rather enjoy your pointed protrusions, but this one will be trouble. The Friar will not wish to divulge its secrets. Arbiter Voah Sahnsuur; zealot. I’m sure you are fond of her…”

Melandra gave the Duke one of her flirtatiously resentful glares.

“…and she of you, but The Inquisition wishes her dead; how does this division work to our advantage? The further horde of religious radicals led by Margrave Otho; who is the worst zealot of the lot, mind you. And you would dispatch me from your kind lap to his cruel orbit. I hope you realise I shall be cross with you for quite some time over this and return all the more nasty for it. Unless…”

Melandra leaned forward excitedly and traced a long finger over the rim of her brandy. The look on her face was one The Duke had seen many times before. The look that said she was contemplating a course of action that would prove most enjoyable to her at the expense of everyone else.

“…Unless we kill them all. That would solve all your problems, would it not? Yes yes Tarmen Frespit; I don’t know what he has to do with any of this, but what harm is there in putting him away as well? I’m sure deep down he’s a zealot. I’m sure of it.”