Webs Upon Webbs
Vhalar 91-92, arc 719
Had it been a cycle ago, he may have thought he was doomed to die of plague like so many others. But that threat had passed and it was more likely an overindulgence of drink. he had not thought he had had so many as to account for his disorientation, but to be honest he was finding himself unable to be sure of just how many he'd had. A most embarrassing lack of recall.
Webb could certainly recall the meeting he'd just sat through with High Marshall Parhn and a number of other military minds. Conspicuously absent had been Marshall Royce; and the subject of the meeting itself. He was not about to admit to spying on his rival for dirt with which to discredit him. And was even less inclined to admit that he would ever be doing it on behalf of Etzos' new Immortal savior.
Truthfully, he had not been aware of any such agenda of Sintra's, though it did not surprise him in the least. He actually had to credit the man for having noticed it. Royce had clearly been anticipating just such a move. Did it mean that Royce knew of his connection to Sintra?
Well it was no matter. Royce was not doing himself any favors with his accusations of spying. What additional negatives were there to discover that everyone did not already know? The man was a murderer, though it could never be proved. Those that could have finally decided to be forthcoming about the facts of his rise through the ranks had died conveniently in the plague.
He gambled and brawled like a common mark. He molested women; and not just the camp followers. He defied orders from those of superior rank, out of sheer obstinance. He surrounded himself in opulence, stolen from friend and foe alike.
As far as the glory and honor of the military went, Royce was a pariah. And Webb had not hesitated to dwell on these points throughout the meeting. And now Royce was making accusations of being undermined by his last living rival, one who he'd never hesitated to slander at any time.
But Webb felt confident that his charges from nearly a ten-trial earlier were being borne out. There had been little evidence to the north of any real confrontation with any force from Sirothelle. it was Webb's assertion that Rovce had invented the whole thing, in order to bring cause to pull his loyal arm away from the plague threat, with who knew what intent upon the city's regime if the rest of the army perished at the hands of Lisirra.
Royce liked to throw the "C"-word around a lot, But Webb had not been too much a "C"oward to confront him face-to-face with that word, and in the midst of Royce's own men! Parhn had sighed at the recall of having had to step in to soothe tempers before the remaining arms of the military turned on each other.
Webb had done the diplomatic thing, and acknowledged his part in egging his rival on with the lack of any evidence supporting Royce's claim, when it was an accusation he should first have presented in conference to the High Marshall. He had taken it upon himself to check into his suspicion when there were no factual grounds for it. But now he felt he HAD sufficient grounds to draw an official court of military investigation.
Of no less significance was the fact that his matron, Sintra, had not counselled him otherwise either. Webb did not understand why Parhn still refrained from putting Royce before the review, and it ate at his guts still. A cynical smile accompanied a shrug of acknowledgement as to why he'd "had a few too many". He needed to clear his mind and get a good night's sleep.
He was too preoccupied to make anything more than coincidental inconvenience that his normal valet was busy with personal matters. The replacement's haste to get to the meeting, resulting in a more bumpy ride than he usually endured, was now offset by a overly slow ride back to his estate. Webb shook his head, finding that it sent him into just a bit of an equilibrial spin. Good thing he was sitting down.
He didn't think he was going to actually vomit, but nonetheless he hurried through the door, help open for him by the valet. He was too focused on stabilizing his stomach to note anything odd that the unfamiliar valet may have done to the door.
Or left undone...
Webb could certainly recall the meeting he'd just sat through with High Marshall Parhn and a number of other military minds. Conspicuously absent had been Marshall Royce; and the subject of the meeting itself. He was not about to admit to spying on his rival for dirt with which to discredit him. And was even less inclined to admit that he would ever be doing it on behalf of Etzos' new Immortal savior.
Truthfully, he had not been aware of any such agenda of Sintra's, though it did not surprise him in the least. He actually had to credit the man for having noticed it. Royce had clearly been anticipating just such a move. Did it mean that Royce knew of his connection to Sintra?
Well it was no matter. Royce was not doing himself any favors with his accusations of spying. What additional negatives were there to discover that everyone did not already know? The man was a murderer, though it could never be proved. Those that could have finally decided to be forthcoming about the facts of his rise through the ranks had died conveniently in the plague.
He gambled and brawled like a common mark. He molested women; and not just the camp followers. He defied orders from those of superior rank, out of sheer obstinance. He surrounded himself in opulence, stolen from friend and foe alike.
As far as the glory and honor of the military went, Royce was a pariah. And Webb had not hesitated to dwell on these points throughout the meeting. And now Royce was making accusations of being undermined by his last living rival, one who he'd never hesitated to slander at any time.
But Webb felt confident that his charges from nearly a ten-trial earlier were being borne out. There had been little evidence to the north of any real confrontation with any force from Sirothelle. it was Webb's assertion that Rovce had invented the whole thing, in order to bring cause to pull his loyal arm away from the plague threat, with who knew what intent upon the city's regime if the rest of the army perished at the hands of Lisirra.
Royce liked to throw the "C"-word around a lot, But Webb had not been too much a "C"oward to confront him face-to-face with that word, and in the midst of Royce's own men! Parhn had sighed at the recall of having had to step in to soothe tempers before the remaining arms of the military turned on each other.
Webb had done the diplomatic thing, and acknowledged his part in egging his rival on with the lack of any evidence supporting Royce's claim, when it was an accusation he should first have presented in conference to the High Marshall. He had taken it upon himself to check into his suspicion when there were no factual grounds for it. But now he felt he HAD sufficient grounds to draw an official court of military investigation.
Of no less significance was the fact that his matron, Sintra, had not counselled him otherwise either. Webb did not understand why Parhn still refrained from putting Royce before the review, and it ate at his guts still. A cynical smile accompanied a shrug of acknowledgement as to why he'd "had a few too many". He needed to clear his mind and get a good night's sleep.
He was too preoccupied to make anything more than coincidental inconvenience that his normal valet was busy with personal matters. The replacement's haste to get to the meeting, resulting in a more bumpy ride than he usually endured, was now offset by a overly slow ride back to his estate. Webb shook his head, finding that it sent him into just a bit of an equilibrial spin. Good thing he was sitting down.
He didn't think he was going to actually vomit, but nonetheless he hurried through the door, help open for him by the valet. He was too focused on stabilizing his stomach to note anything odd that the unfamiliar valet may have done to the door.
Or left undone...
