[X] Demanding Answers {Glozelle} [Finished]

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[Natissa Tescar]

It had been far too long since Natissa had heard news of her son.  In fact, she had heard no real news of Adimon since before the storm, when she’d received a brief note telling her that he was missing and presumed a captive.  Since then, all she had heard were rumors and speculation, and even little of that.  Natissa was tired of being worried, tired of having nothing to do while her son could be hurt or sick.  So if there was any information to be had on Adimon, she was going to find it out.

Natissa was not one to rock the boat, not one to seek out those in power or to demand her way.  She was more inclined to sit patiently and hope for the waves to calm on their own.  But for the sake of her son, she was about to shed at least some of her passivity.  One of her maids had mentioned that General Glozelle was at the castle at the moment, and she intended to find him. She would then do whatever it took to get the General to talk to her, and to tell her what he knew. And he had to know something, for if anyone knew anything of Adimon, it would be he.  She refused to believe everyone could be just as in the dark as she was.

With these thoughts in her mind keeping her from losing nerve, Natissa strode purposely towards the wing where the army officers had their offices.  When she arrived, she hesitated. She had only been to this wing a couple of times before, in all her years in residence at this castle, and she wasn’t quite sure where to go from here.  A couple of servants hurrying by gave her curious glances, and she began to feel uncomfortable. Maybe she should have just sent the General a note, asking for an audience. That would have been more acceptable, and more akin to something she would usually do.  But she had been afraid that he was only here for a short time, that he would have sent his regrets and apologies and she would have lost this chance. Well, she was here now; she might as well follow through with this.

A less hurried servant noticed her then, and asked if he could be of assistance. 

“Yes,” Natissa replied, her voice carrying the authority which she no longer had any right to.  “I’m looking for the office of General Glozelle.” 

“Is he expecting you, milady?”  The servant’s incredulity at her appearance in such a male-dominated place was betrayed by his words, but not by his polite tone, which only portrayed that he wanted to know the answer so that he could better assist her.

“No, but if you would be so good as to let him know that Lady Natissa Tescar is here to see him, I’m sure he will be pleased to see me.”  Natissa was sure of no such thing. Due to her late husband’s known support of the line of Caspian, she had lost any influence she had once had on the court, except for the little sway she still had on her son. The general would have no reason not to plead busyness and send her on her way until some indeterminate later date. 

She betrayed no sign of this doubt on her face, however, as she followed the servant down the hall.  She had much practice hiding her emotions; she could fool even herself at times. 

“If you will be so kind as to wait here, milady, I will go and inform General Glozelle of your presence,”  requested the servant as they arrived at their destination.  Natissa nodded, sat down on the indicated bench, and resigned herself to waiting for the general’s answer.

[General Glozelle]

Glozelle had - at Miraz's request, or rather demand, of course - returned to the castle on the hill where he had already spent many years of his life.  The place could not be called home, but for Glozelle, it was probably as close as any place could come, though his office (which was a sort of haven for him) had been intruded too many times by unwanted visitors...  namely the esteemed king.  But what could he expect?  After all, he was stationed in the war department, which Miraz frequented, surprisingly enough.  As they said, a ruler who is ignorant of military affairs can neither be respected by his soldiers, nor can he trust them.  Ah, yes, Glozelle knew the words of the masters; perhaps it could be said that he knew them by heart.  Indeed, he had spent his whole life studying them, for he was not afraid to acknowledge the fact that others were greater than he, if only in an attempt to surpass them.  Such was his way; he intended to do the very same to Miraz, one day.  As much as Miraz might pretend otherwise, he knew nothing of war (at least, in comparison to Glozelle), and thus, knew nothing of the hearts or loyalties of his own men.  The glory of the prophetic words centuries old!  They encouraged Glozelle to go on in his pursuit - quietly, diligently, secretively.  Yes, a king must know his men, their every thought and deed.  Miraz did not, and it would be his downfall; Glozelle, who was certain to be a better ruler by the fact that he was a superior military leader alone, would make sure of this.

He was staring at a map laid out on his desk, as he often did (the masters were also quite clear in stating the necessity of knowing the geography and topography of one's land), but his eyes were not taking in what they were aimed at.  He gazed unseeingly at the intricately winding rivers and raised mountains, which all blurred together into a vague brown form that Glozelle thought with dim disgust resembled Miraz's ugly face.  Near the center of the map was a dark, ominous-looking circle around the suspected perimeter of the Narnian camp.  But as his mind wandered, so did Glozelle's hand, and the Telmarine army marker in its fingers.  He started when his door was thrown open unceremoniously, and he did not realize that in his sudden motion he had stabbed the marker instead into the painted castle.  Blinking rapidly as he stood to greet the intruder, he removed the marker in a smooth motion, masking the satisfaction from his face with the same practiced skill.  There was certain to be other dissenters against Miraz's foolish tyranny around the castle, but one could never tell who; a loyal servant could make for a most horrid snitch.  Even the simplest of accidents could be taken to mean something else.  And so he faced the servant with the same emotionless, silent facade that he had come to be known for.

"Lady Natissa Tescar is here to see you, m'lord," the servant announced.  Glozelle nodded his thanks.  ...Tescar.  The name was quite familiar.  His mind raced to come up with a face to go with the name.  Ah, yes - the stately mother of Adimon.  Glozelle admired her for her dignity in the absence of her husband, and thought her a great lady indeed.  "Send her in," he said quietly, dismissing the servant.  It wasn't as if he had anything of more importance to do at the moment - he considered all of Miraz's orders unimportant.  He held a good deal of respect for the older woman, and though he could have easily hidden any surprise - should he have had any - he felt none.  War was certainly no place for a lady, but that was for their protection; not for the men's as was commonly and mistakenly thought now.  He could use someone like her to replace a few of his more idiotic soldiers.  It was unthinkable, but true all the same.  Yes; it would seem that Glozelle was an underground women's rights activist as well as rebel against the king.  Ha!  The irony of this was laughable.  Or, perhaps, would be to some: Glozelle was something of a womanizer, and would likely never marry.  But he treated women well, better than any Telmarine husband would.  These were rather strange thoughts to be having when one was about to meet one of the most highly regarded - however fallen or powerless (for all Telmarine women were) - women in the castle.  Having given what he thought an ample amount of time for the servant to direct Lady Natissa into his office, Glozelle received her.  He bowed his head to show his respect, greeting her politely, "Lady Natissa.  A pleasure.  Please sit down."  He waited for her to sit before doing so himself, the epitome of a gentleman.  Not a man of many words, he said what he needed to, for anything in excess was dangerous.

[Natissa Tescar]

“If you would follow me, milady?”

The servant had returned.  Natissa was surprised to see him again so quickly; she had expected to be kept waiting for at least a little while.  The strategies and tactics of war eluded her comprehension, but she was certain that a general in wartime had to have much on both his mind and his list of things to do.  Surely General Glozelle had more pressing things to attend to than herself. But apparently, he did not at the moment, for he was already waiting to see her.

Natissa rose, straightened her skirts, and followed the servant.  Doubts rose anew in her mind as she drew near to their destination.  What would people think of her coming like this, alone, to see the general? And what did she hope to accomplish?  If there was any real news to be had on her son, someone was sure to have let her know.  She had been having this argument with herself for hours, ever since she had first heard the news of General Glozelle’s arrival back at the castle.  Before, her determination to hear any information at all about her son, no matter how small, had won out. Now, as she reached the door to the general’s office, she was wishing that she had just stayed in her rooms. 

General Glozelle received her very properly and smoothly, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary. But then, while they had never exchanged more than pleasantries before, her impression of him had always been that of a perfect gentleman. 

Once they were both sitting, Natissa started to speak. “Thank you for seeing me. I hope you are well?” She hesitated, and then decided to plunge right in with her reason for being here.  There was no use pretending this was a routine social visit.  “I came to inquire if you had any news on my son, Adimon.  I heard a couple of weeks ago that he was missing, and presumably captured, but I have heard nothing since.”

[General Glozelle]

Natissa entered with more speed than he might have expected of such a proper lady, but Glozelle reasoned that if she had come into the war department, her need was likely an urgent one.  Making no mention of this, he went on with the pleasantries and then seated himself as the lady spoke.  He inclined his head politely as he replied, "I am only as well as my men."  This was not, of course, entirely true - and he said it mostly because of the fact that this woman had a son of whom he had command.  True, Glozelle was likely treated better than most Telmarine soldiers, due to his dual status as a lord, but on the battlefield (should they ever get there), they were all the same, all equal targets fitted in identical shining silver armor and those detestable masks in which they marched.  In this, he and his men shared a sort of kinship, if in nothing else: they were all subjected to the stupidity and ensuing irritation of Miraz.  Glozelle was, at least, aware of the men in his regiment and of their feelings - which, contrary to the stoic soldier stereotype with which most of them were (incorrectly) labeled, they had a strange tendency to share with him on a regular basis.  He supposed that some of them shared his secret sentiments, though these most dangerous ones were not voiced, where theirs less dangerous most certainly were.  Yes, complaints abounded in the camps; if only men could live on discomfort instead of food.

This idle talk was probably perceived as a waste of time to Natissa, who could not possibly realize that Glozelle really had a frightfully small amount of work he had to do.  For months now he and his men had been preparing for a battle with the Narnians, with no reward.  Only the blasted bridge had made any real progress, and hardly enough worth noting, though when completed Glozelle supposed it was going to serve some purpose or another - though exactly what, he did not know, as he did not understand the majority of Miraz's plans and only pretended to.  Why thousands of soldiers had been taken from their homes and families, only to march around the countryside for what seemed no other reason than to look smart in their matching armor, was quite beyond him.  But that was why he was a general and Miraz was not.  A king, he knew, was nothing without the knowledge of war.  How fortunate for Glozelle, and how unfortunate for Miraz, that the king did not seem to know this.  At one time, long ago, when Glozelle was young and stupid, he had respected Miraz.  But things changed quickly.  If only this would occur again, at a more convenient time.  It seemed that for months now the subject of hushed conversation had been Caspian's disappearance, and the fields had been pregnant with the opportunity for a Narnian attack.  And yet, still nothing.  If anything was a waste of time, it was all of this marching in place instead of towards the How; not talking to Natissa.  But, as he expected she might, the lady did not seem to agree with Glozelle's unspoken thoughts, going straight to her point. 

Glozelle appreciated this, though her remark left him struggling for a response.  In truth, he knew little about Adimon.  He had not even really spoken to the boy.  His disappearance was something of old news around the camp, though no one was exactly allowed to speak of it, seeing as how his capture was a blatant display of power by the Narnians Miraz so hated and - Glozelle suspected - feared.  But he had just asserted that he was close to his soldiers, so he could not contradict himself by saying that he knew not where Adimon was.  Still, after all that this woman had gone through, losing both her husband and her son, Glozelle supposed that she at least deserved a bit of honesty.  He would have liked to sugar-coat things for her, but he simply had no good news.  Or any news, at all, which might have been better.  "I am not well acquainted with your son," he admitted.  He lowered his eyes without thinking of it.  It was something he did whenever he felt uncomfortable, and was not a bad trait to have when in the presence of someone like Miraz, who demanded respect.  Doing his best to mask his bitterness, and somewhat failing, he added, "We have seen little of the Narnians.  But the resistance is weakening, and they are faint of heart.  Caspian would not kill a man."  This, at least, could be used to reassure her. 

[Natissa Tescar]

“I am only as well as my men.”

Natissa inclined her head in approval of such a sentiment.  If only Miraz cared half as much about those under his control! Then again, if he cared about any other than himself, like as not he would never have usurped power in the first place.  Life under Caspian IX had not been perfect, of course, but it had been pleasant. Court changed markedly after Miraz took over. Everything revolved around him now, and manipulations and intrigues, always present but never before conspicuous in the court, now defined it. The king set the tone of court, and when a ruler looked only to himself, his courtiers did the same.  So it was good to find a man who seemed to think of the welfare of those who looked to him for guidance.

The general’s answer to her plea was worse than she had feared.  She had convinced herself that he must know something of Adimon, or she never would have come.  But he did not even seem to be very familiar with the case!  Surely King Miraz would have briefed his generals on his Private Secretary’s disappearance.  Adimon regarded the king so highly, and served him so faithfully.  While Natissa did not share her son’s sentiments, she had at least been comforted by the fact that her son’s service would have raised him in the king’s regard, and afforded him some protection.  But why, then, did the king seem to be making no effort on Adimon’s behalf?  She knew well that King Miraz cared for himself more than anyone else.  But she had assumed he would not want her son a captive, at the very least because Adimon seemed to be so much in his confidence and could be forced to tell the Narnians what he knew. Or had King Miraz, always suspicious and fickle, turned against one of the few who actually supported him with complete devotion? Could Miraz be hoping that the Narnians would kill her son for him?

The thought made her sick with fear.  But Caspian would not kill a man, said Glozelle. And she murmured in agreement, “No, he would not,” for it was true. She had seen little of the prince in recent years. After all, what young man would want anything to do with a graying woman?  But she had seen much evidence that he was much more like his father than his uncle.  And while she did not understand his methods of taking back what was his, she could not think that he had changed so much as to kill a prisoner of war.  That inner assurance was what had kept her hopes alive, though she feared that the …creatures…who followed him may not have the same morals.

The general’s other words then sunk in.  "We have seen little of the Narnians.  But the resistance is weakening, and they are faint of heart.”

Natissa had paid little attention to the war at first, knowing that one woman could not affect its outcome, and that it was often safer to not know the truth.  That had changed once she received the news of Adimon’s capture. She now followed the news of the war diligently, hoping something she heard would shed some light on her son’s welfare. She knew, however, that most of the news she had heard had been filtered through Miraz. From what she had heard, there had been many battles, full of glory for the Telmarines, despite the brutality and repulsiveness of the Narnians.  But Glozelle’s words, spoken so simply, belied many of the rumors.  We have seen little of the Narnians.  That sentence, she suspected, contained more real news than all the speeches and rumors she had heard until now.

She hesitated for just a moment, and then spoke the request that had come to her by impulse. “General, would you tell me more of the war?”

[General Glozelle]

Glozelle was hard-pressed not to smile to himself when Natissa inclined her head to show her approval.  Rarely did someone bow to him, or show any sign of respect or pleasure, excepting for the fact that they knew that they had to.  Though it was certainly not Glozelle’s goal in life to please people – if that was it, then he would be a sniveling servant right now to the king instead of the man’s general – but it was nice to know that he could do it.  He certainly would rather please a lovely, esteemed lady such as this over someone like Miraz (even though the king was notoriously difficult to satisfy, and that would indeed be quite a feat).  He nodded a little, as if in finality, even though nothing had been said.  Perhaps he would have a follower, after all; someone to support him when he managed to take his plan to completion.  It might be a while before that happened, but it was reassuring to know that he had something at least to rely on.  His plan would go on no matter what the consequences, no matter whether or not he had supporters – after all, Miraz had gained supporters through whatever means necessary – but it was nice to know that Glozelle had people who actually liked him and not just feared him (even if that was nice, as well, and usually preferable).  In fact, Glozelle didn’t even really care if people liked him, as long as they hated Miraz.  They would follow anyone with a common enemy.  Could Natissa be one of those people? 

“I am sorry that the king did not tell me more of your son,” he said softly, hoping to cement Natissa’s hatred and make it seem like it was all Miraz’s fault – for it was.  “I assure you that I will do everything in my power to ensure his safe return.”  And, since Glozelle had a lot of power, as everyone would know, probably the most other than Miraz himself, this was reassuring indeed.  It would not take much to make this woman hate Miraz, he could tell.  No one who actually knew Miraz would put it past him to use a common Telmarine for his own purposes and then dispose of the good man.  Glozelle himself had seen it many times before, and it was for this reason that his loathing of Miraz was deeper than nearly anyone else’s, because he was the closest to the man and saw the most of his corruption.  Fortunately for Glozelle, he was capable of not showing what he knew, because otherwise Miraz would kill him and all would be lost.  So for now he tread carefully, but likely not as carefully as he should.  Still, he could not lose this opportunity.  Natissa seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, as she well should, because of all of his knowledge, power, and connections.  It was not like a woman to be interested in war but he certainly didn’t mind.  Natissa was probably better educated about the war than most of his men were.  He could use her interest to his advantage, and to hers as well.  They could both find out what they wanted to know, this way.

Glozelle had done his best to keep himself contained, for safety reasons.  After all, even though he liked Natissa, she was still a Telmarine woman.  She could probably gossip with the best of them, and might even go around telling people that she had personally met the general himself.  She would ruin Miraz’s illusion that their war was a successful and glorious one.  Even though Glozelle didn’t at all mind the fact that someone might start a small rebellion against the king, he knew as well as anyone else that ruining what people had already established to be true was a dangerous thing.  One could be looked upon as a heretic, and in Telmarine society, where no one stood out if they wanted power or anything good, this was social and sometimes literal suicide.  So the fact that Natissa was inquiring after the war did not at all anger Glozelle at her, but it did bring up all the frustration that he felt about the whole situation.  Unable to fully contain himself, he shook his head viciously.  “What war?” he spat bitterly.  Normally he was better at keeping his thoughts to himself, but this was just too much, and finally, he felt like there was someone he could safely confide in.  “Forgive me, my lady, if I have surprised you with my words, but we have not once engaged in battle.  His Majesty has done his utmost to keep his people in the dark about what we have done.  In truth, and I swear it, your money and your good sons have gone to fulfill the completion of his Majesty’s own esteemed agenda.”  The anger and sarcasm in his voice were obvious, more obvious than it should have been.  If he had mistaken Natissa’s loyalties, then it would all be over for him.  He clenched his hand into a fist and then released it, forcing himself to calm down.  “I beg your indulgence for my impetuousness, Lady,” he murmured.  “Perhaps being detained here has had more of an effect on me than is healthy.”

[Natissa Tescar]

General Glozelle’s statement implied that he, too, felt that Miraz should have taken additional steps to ensure his Private Secretary’s recovery.  A horrifying thought struck Natissa.  It should not be possible that no one had heard anything of her son.   At the very least, there should have been demands or threats from Prince Caspian’s army, after it had captured such an important personage.  Could the answer be that Adimon was not really a captive?  She had feared that King Miraz was hoping that the Narnians would do away with Adimon for him.  Could the king have turned against her son in an even more sinister way?  The accepted reason for her husband’s death was an attack by brigands, but Natissa strongly suspected that the only “brigands” had been the then Prince Miraz and the men he had hired. Was this the same thing all over again?
 
The thought that the king may have arranged Adimon’s disappearance, and then blamed it on the “rebels” made her sick with dread.  Two weeks ago, Natissa had thought she had nothing left to lose. Over the years, she’d lost her husband, her position, her reputation, and in many ways, even her son to the usurper. But she now knew that she hadn’t really lost her son before. He may have been blindly devoted to King Miraz, but he had been alive, and he had still loved his mother. It was only when she faced the threat of losing Adimon for good that she realized how blessed she had been in the past. Before, she had thought she could survive anything else that life threw at her. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Natissa realized that she had likely been silent for too long, and she blurted a quick and heartfelt “Thank you” to the general’s assurance that he would do all he could for her son.  Such a promise from a powerful man as General Glozelle really was comforting. 

Natissa was not, however, prepared for the response to her request.  She sat back a bit, stunned at General Glozelle’s vehemence.  The man seemed to notice her reaction, for he apologized, but he still continued with his answer that, if not treasonous, was close to it.  As he spat out his words, Natissa couldn’t stop her eyes from darting to each side to see if anyone else had heard them.  If another happened by at this moment, they could both be in a good deal of trouble. She desperately wanted to get up and leave, before she could become party to any more dangerous words, but her good breeding kept her glued to her chair.

Natissa wondered what the general was doing.  The man was powerful, and could not have reached a position as high as his without at least feigning loyalty. If he truly felt so upset about current affairs, why would he risk saying them aloud, to her of all people?  What was he trying to achieve? Or was this some sort of test of her own loyalty? But unless the man was a brilliant actor as well as general, she didn’t think he could fake such emotion.

When he had finished, Natissa chose her next words carefully, trying to remain polite but to say nothing that might put her in danger. “No apologies necessary, General.  These are trying times for you, I am sure.” She hesitated, and then added, “If what you say is true, I can’t help but be glad that there have as yet been no battles. The costs of this…” – Natissa struggled for a word other than “war”, which had had such an effect on the general – “conflict have been high enough already.”

Her comments hardly counted as a criticism of Miraz’ efforts, but they were as close to one as she would ever allow herself to speak aloud. Indeed, Natissa wondered if she had gone too far in front of this man who was hardly known to her.  Time to leave, she thought, before either of us says anything else we might later  regret.

“Well, General, I thank you very much for seeing me, but I will take up no more of your time,” Natissa said as she got up from her chair.  “I trust you will inform me if you receive any news of my son?”

[General Glozelle]

Glozelle gritted his teeth to make himself shut his mouth.  Too late.  What a fool he had been!  If anyone had heard him, then he would be killed within an instant, and he knew it.  Never before had he been so openly treasonous towards Miraz, simply because he couldn’t have afforded to be.  Nor could he be now, but for some reason, there was something about Natissa that put him at ease – or at least, relatively so, compared to how he had to act next to his fellow officers, nobles, and king – and made him feel as if he could share his true sentiments with her.  But such ease was… dangerous.  Yes.  That was the word.  He could be killed for this.  Though Natissa did not seem the sort of woman to go tell Miraz what he had said and get him executed, he couldn’t dare be certain, because things were often not as they seemed.  Already he had learned, thank the gods not from experience, that it was best to always appear distant and formal, neither of which he had been just now.  He had not gotten her by being a fool, nor would he stay here in such a fashion.  This he knew well, and yet, he hadn’t been able to control himself for that one moment, that one moment that could determine the rest of his life – which may end up being quite short.

In truth, it was hard to think about Natissa, or her son, Adimon, when he had his own life to be worried about.  This conversation was putting it in danger.  And while he might have been able to blame it on the woman, he knew that it was all his fault, in reality.  He was the one who had idiotically burst out with his opinion, as was explicitly outlawed.  Even if it was not a written rule, everyone knew it, all the same, and he had broken it.  Shattered it, like glass with a lance.  Tightly, he nodded to Lady Natissa’s thanks, for he did not think he could manage to say something else without another outburst.  What other secrets could he reveal to her?  Already he had given the most important, and certainly most dangerous, one.  Now his life was worthless to Miraz, for as stupid as the man was in most aspects, he was at least smart enough not to keep around a treacherous man, even a skilled one.  He could see the way that Natissa was responding to his outburst was not a very positive reaction at that, and really, who could blame her?  Even a woman not at all involved in politics except through her husband and son – and really, that meant little, because women were not involved with any of their husband’s affairs – could see that.  Hopefully she was also wise enough to know not to betray Glozelle as Glozelle wished to betray Miraz.  She seemed to realize that Glozelle was her only hope of getting information about her son. 

In that, at least, Glozelle had some security.  It was ironic, and yet not at all humorous, how his life now lay in the hands of a woman.  It bothered him none, for he had always been strangely interested in giving some semblance of equality to women, and found Telmarine treatment of them brutal.  He had no choice but to trust her, anyway.  He noticed her looking around to check to see if anyone else had heard them, and he was not sure how to feel about that – whether it meant that Natissa was afraid someone would hear them for Glozelle’s sake or for hers.  Glozelle hoped it meant that her fear wasn’t going to force her to tell Miraz of his treachery for her own sake.  He knew that Natissa wanted to leave (To do what? he wondered anxiously), and in a moment, he would let her.  He wished he could assure himself of her loyalty first, but there was no proper way to do it.  Well, he had hardly been proper thus far, but he feared any more such behavior would put the esteemed Natissa over the edge.  And he didn’t really want to hurt her.  Even if she had wanted to betray him for her own safety, he couldn’t have really blamed her.  That was simply how life worked: one had to look out for oneself if one wished to survive.  He knew he had made a grand blunder, one that could never be smoothed over, and he would just have to face the consequences.  If there was one thing he hated about Miraz it was his inability to take responsibility for his actions, and as much as Glozelle had done this himself to gain his current place of power, he still didn’t think it was right.  In fact, since he had never gotten into trouble with anyone and had always pretended to go along with whatever was being said, no one ever had to admonish him, so he had never had to own up to his actions.  Unlike Miraz, who never did so anyway.  Glozelle despised that about the man.

But he was going to change this.  He was going to change the whole system, no matter who supported him and who opposed him.  He supposed that was the advantage of keeping one’s thoughts to himself; in the end, when he did reveal his opinions, everyone would be surprised and no one would have ever gotten the chance to go up against him.  Natissa was right – it was very difficult.  And he was glad that she understood it.  That’s why Glozelle was more comfortable around her (even though he really shouldn’t have been, for his own safety): she seemed to understand him, more than anyone else did, even his own men.  When Natissa stated that she was glad that the costs had not been higher, he nodded again, but this time, he needed to say something.  “I praise you, lady, for your wisdom.  I did not wish to burden you with my own troubles, for I am sure you have much of your own.  I only desired to enlighten you of the situation.  Your presence has humbled me much and I am glad of your loyalty and trust.”  He inclined his head respectfully to the great lady.  Hopefully she would understand his meaning well enough as he raised his eyes.  “I will tell you anything I know which you desire to know,” he replied in conclusion, standing in a polite dismissal.  His gaze met hers, and his eyes glittered darkly as he murmured, “Long live the king.”  It was in silence that he added the rightful one, but in his head the words rang as loudly as a bell.

[Natissa Tescar]

“I only desired to enlighten you of the situation.  Your presence has humbled me much and I am glad of your loyalty and trust.”

The words were innocent enough on their own.  But General Glozelle had raised his eyes – so full of intent – to meet hers after speaking them, and the remembrance of his earlier words still surrounded them like a menacing cloud.  His true meaning was quite clear, particularly to one who had spent many long years in King Miraz’ court.  No one could survive so long in such a suspicious environment without being able to read the subtle signs and signals people passed to one another.

But what response to give?  The man’s words had not even been outright treason, but King Miraz needed little excuse to interpret them as such.  He would have her report the conversation, and perhaps even reward her generously for doing so.  Such a course of action would also be the safest; if she did not make the report, and anyone else had heard their conversation, she would be in as much trouble as the general.  And yet…reporting the conversation would bring her to King Miraz’ attention, which was never a good thing.  Natissa’s goal had always been to fade into the background, to do nothing to turn the eye of the king towards oneself.  Given King Miraz’ capricious nature, not attracting his notice was much safer than being in his good graces.  Further, if she were to betray General Glozelle, King Miraz might wonder why she had been in the war department in the first place. Particularly after this meeting, that was not a question she wanted to answer.  But most importantly, Natissa was not one to knowingly bring harm to others.  She was not in any sense a crusader or a revolutionary, but she had a strong sense of right and wrong all the same – which is more than can be said of a majority of the vultures in this court, she thought bitterly. 

Natissa gave no verbal acknowledgement to the general’s unspoken question, for such a response could be held against her.  Instead, she nodded once, and then looked up to meet his eyes before quickly glancing away.  She would not report this conversation.  She only hoped that no one else would, either.

“I will tell you anything I know which you desire to know,” the general replied, as he stood to see her out of his office. Natissa thanked him once more in her turn, and if her gratitude was less heartfelt than it had been earlier, she gave no sign of it in her voice or demeanor.  And before she moved to make her escape, she bid the general, “Fare thee well.”  Unlike the previous, this was a statement that she meant with all her heart.  General Glozelle had risen in her esteem after this visit, despite the near treasonous words he had spoken towards the end. She would hate to see harm come to him, and not just because he had given his word that he would keep her informed about Adimon.

Just before Natissa could move her feet towards the door, the general’s gaze met hers once more. “Long live the king,” he murmured. Shivers ran down her spine, though she could not explain why a statement of loyalty to King Miraz should do so. 

”Long live the king,” she whispered in reply, and then made good her escape. This meeting had turned out quite differently than Natissa had hoped or even expected. She had much to think about, and none of it was pleasant.