The Sultan's Adviser

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Just Past Dawn on the 2nd of the Winter Storm
The Sultan's Palace in Moannsus

Markus Woodrow always enjoyed visiting the palace, and he would enjoy it even more when the current Sultan was evicted and it became his. The structure was an object of amazement with sky-scraping towers, and beautiful with the way the coral and coloured barnacles had coated it from it's base under the surface to the some of the highest arcing sides of it's marble-plated sandstone walls. Come the end of winter it would be even more beautiful as the seaflares bloomed. It was unfortunate Woodrow would not be Sultan by then - but he could certainly aim for 5154.

His arrival had been expected, and in fact hotly anticipated. He had been granted access through the Sultan's personal teleportation channel, allowing him to walk through his own office door to arrive in the palace, and was attended to by a volley of beautiful servants just moments following his entrance. Yes, this is the life Woodrow could get used to. Particularly with a beautiful Sultana like Tehodis by his side.

The servants brought him to a circular sitting room that Woodrow thought he would be waiting in. Instead, the Sultan had already showed his cards by standing by a large floor-to-ceiling circular window in the room. You never arrived before your opponent. Raphael was dressed in fine silks and sheer voile that left the man's well-toned, yet scarred physique show beneath the rippling light of the room. Kellen Appius stood next to Raphael, speaking in a quiet whisper. The adviser was dressed more conservatively, appearing more human than Raphael despite the fact that they were both masquerading with those magical circlets.

"Lord Markus Woodrow II, your grace," One of the servants offered, all of the servants dropping to one knee and bowing their heads. Yes, Woodrow supposed he could get used to this kind of reverence. Raphael turned at this introduction, nodding his head in greeting, "Markus, it has been too long. Please, take a seat." The mer-sultan gestured to the plush cushions at the centre of the room, and though Woodrow moved to the cushions, he did not sit until Raphael and Kellen joined him. Even then, the three of them stood - silently eyeing one another, trading mild conversation - until finally Raphael sighed and sat. Kellen and Woodrow met eyes, both expressing similar feelings towards Raphael, and still did not sit.

"Leave us," Kellen commanded, and the servants were only too glad to obey. The moment the door closed with a resounding clunk, Kellen stepped closer to their guest, and pulled his rapier free to press against Woodrow's throat. Woodrow wouldn't admit to his surprise - but he didn't have to. It was clear on his face, and it was clear by the fact that he didn't bring his hand to his own rapier before Kellen had stolen it off of him.

"Now, Kellen," Woodrow began, keeping himself calm as the only way he knew he was getting out of this, "I'm certain this isn't the response the people wanted. Is it, Raphael?" He could feel the point pressing into his Adam's apple, and he was certain it had broken skin as a bead of cold dribbled down to the cloth at his collar bone. Thankfully, Raphael was more level-headed, and his voice was stern as he said Kellen's name. On the third repetition, Kellen finally removed his rapier, and replaced it at his belt, tossing Woodrow's off to the side with an angry clatter. Appius finally sat, the tails of his coat (not unlike a merfolk tail) flying up around him. Petulant child, Woodrow thought, You lost.

"Markus," Raphael sounded almost sympathetic, almost sad, and as Woodrow met the man's eyes he could see betrayal, "I have seen us as friends and allies since I earned the title of Sultan. You ought to know that if I had learned of the native people, I would have swiftly joined our Nisequois allies. Why did you not come to me with this information first?"

Markus feigned surprise, his eyes drifting over to Kellen, who was already preparing a statement. "It's clear," Kellen started, "That after all of your generosity, my Sultan, Woodrow has decided he would be better to take advantage for his own gain. I repeat, as I did yesterday, that his presence here is a waste of time. You would be better to make a public statement in your defence, and denounce this false messiah that has-"

"Kellen didn't tell you, my Sultan?" Woodrow feigned confusion, but with a side-ways glance at Kellen, it was clear to the adviser that Woodrow was continuing the game. Kellen prepared to speak again, but Raphael interrupted them both: "Do explain."

Kellen began first: "The intelligence granted to us by the Viviana sisters was not entirely reliable. Our soldiers have not encountered sentient beings in the way our allies evidently have. If I had believed the information to be accurate, I assure you it would have been your's in an instant."

Woodrow followed with a feigned bit of empathy and a click of his tongue as he pulled papers from his jacket. He flipped through them for a moment, as if he needed to verify the contents, and then stood to move over to Raphael. He purposefully stood between the two men, blocking Kellen's view. "I'm afraid Kellen is mistaken, for I was sent the same correspondence as was sent to Kellen."

"And why would that be sent to you?" The adviser challenged, standing and moving in to snag the papers. Before he could, Raphael raised a hand, "I'd like to see this, Kellen."

Woodrow offered the papers, which Raphael took, and reviewed. It was just as Woodrow had said. A report of the natives in Atton - years ago. Not just months, not the kind of time Raphael might have expected. His brow fringed in annoyance as he flipped through the papers, and eventually he spoke: "Kellen, I do believe I won't be needing your assistance for the remainder of this meeting."

"But sir," Kellen insisted, pressing his shoulder against Woodrow's in an attempt to strong-arm him out of the way, but Raphael's decision was made, and a pointed look at Kellen was enough to have the adviser give in - for the moment. "Of course, my Sultan."

Woodrow regained his seat, this time closer to Raphael, and crossed a leg before the other. He suddenly had a leg-up in these negotiations, and Raphael Mydas was always easier to work with than Kellen. As the door closed behind Kellen with a gentle click, Raphael sighed and pressed his fingers to his shoulder, the circlet on his head adjusting slightly, "I apologize, Markus. I can promise you that if I had known--"

"Unfortunately that is the problem, Raphael. This war has been ongoing for ten long years, and the fact that you have so little knowledge of the happenings there is worrisome not just for me, but for our country. Even Aurcaele was ahead of us in this, Raphael."

Raphael nodded his understanding, and Woodrow knew that he understood more than the fact that Kellen did not have his best interests at heart. "As selfish as this sounds," He finally said, looking out to the windows with some sadness in his eyes, "I need something from you, Markus."

He dare ask something for me? Woodrow thought, utterly bemused, Oh Raphael, you are making my demands far too easy. But what he said was: "Of course, my Sultan. Anything."

"I have always feared that Kellen has not had my best interests at heart. I... Was not his first choice to become Sultan, unfortunately. I have always worried that perhaps he has been working behind my back, but this is the first time that any such thing has been made clear to me. Markus, I--"

"Say nothing further. I will open an investigation for you. But in order to do that... You understand that I will need greater access to you, to the palace?" One of the things Woodrow wanted, and Raphael was nodding simply. He was so weak without Kellen. The adviser may have wanted Raphael out of the picture as much as Woodrow, but at least the man preferred Raphael to the SSPB's leader - he was a better defense than Raphael realized he had. He was weakened here alone. Good. Raphael sighed again, and rose to go to the window he was already looking out of. "Tell me what you need, Markus."

---

By the time Markus had left, he had obtained everything he had hoped for, and more. The royal guard was now under his control, and he had access to the Palace's archives. He was to head an investigation into Kellen Appius for potential treason, and because he would be the chief investigator for any royal matter, it meant that he would be the judge, and jury for Raphael as well. Woodrow himself was to be granted a royal passport, which would gain him unquestioned access to any nation belonging to a trade deal with Submiere, and clout with those who had the most influence in those locations. He would be the representative for Submiere in the Storm Temple Accord - which he had already assumed - and most importantly of all... He was to be Raphael's new adviser. It would not be official until Kellen had been charged, but from now on, Raphael would be referring to Woodrow for advice.

Yes, Woodrow had gotten everything he had wanted, and perhaps more. In mere months his power would only grow, and in due time he would rule over Submiere, which would only be an early step in his plans. Markus Woodrow II was going places.

The collection of tea from the Sultan's private stock was simply a bonus, and one that would be useful for his next stop. "Home to your office, Lord Woodrow?" One of the servants before the teleportation door asked, garnering a shake of the head from Woodrow. "Niseca, if you would please. Boiss, more specifically. I have a thanks to give."

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