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Chapter Two:

Now Faendryl are no slouches when it comes to getting what they want, and it was quite likely the most difficult year for the bard to keep certain information hidden. Servants would attempt to linger when he wished to be alone and they would offer to deliver messages for him. His time away from the manor was always watched, and he knew it. While servants are good for such things in Ta'Faendryl, where they are as unnoticed as a blade of grass - such was not the case for the Dhe'nar. To him, a pack of Khanshael could be less noticeable.

A year passed, and the Lady Gylaume could learn no more than what the bard wished to reveal to her. She began to enjoy the mystery, even coming up with her own fantasies to entertain herself. She began to notice that she got easily bored when he was not around, even finding herself missing the quiet confident tones of his voice.

Many nights, alone in her chambers she would berate herself for inviting the bard into her life. Often though, she would fluff her pillows on her bed beside her and would wish - just once, that she could feel his flesh pressed against hers.

Political games of the Faendryl are quite the test for a young Dhe'nar, and the Lady intended to use the bard for just such a purpose. She had been thwarted in her efforts for a position in the Palestra by a snobbish, portly sorcerer.. whose name escapes me now.

A friend of her cousin, the man was suave in manipulation, but lacked a certain social grace. What truely irritated the Lady was that he was vying for her attention romantically. He knew her ambition and thought himself rather clever, knowing the only way she would gain the position she craved was through his influence (or his lack of thwarting it).

She had considered it long ago, before the years became unkind to him. But, the man was an irritant now and his presence constantly reminded her of the road block he represented. The sorcerer winked in her direction, his sagging jowls made the gesture nauseating to her. Even the bard wrinkled his nose.

Too late to disguise subtleties, the man paused. Also, less that subtle, his fingers began to twitch in the incantation of a spell. Something blew into his eyes, quickly stinging them. Though his blurred vision, he attempted to find his target again, but the bard was no where in sight. He had disappeared into the crowd, while the hostess merely smiled at such a simple trick. For later, would be so much more convenient.

Later that evening, when the guests had dispersed, she approached the bard with a proposition. Kill the sorcerer. She impressed that the man's demise would better instill her amongst her peers, and no longer would she have to worry about propositions of marriage to such an obtuse creature (even if he WAS Faendryl). Besides, she claimed... he likely had intentions of injuring if not outright insulting the bard with that spell. 

The Dhe'nar glanced at her and simply smiled. He truly needed no convincing.

<CHAPTER TWO - Whistfylle's REWRITE>                OR             <CHAPTER THREE - SHORT>