Games within games

Lor’themar Theron paced back and forward, anger showing in his stance and the way in which he spoke. The words were still measured, but uttered through gritted teeth, as he turned back again, towards the elf standing near the window.

“You have killed – in – public – an important person…”

Eireannan gave him a blank look. He wore his plain dark clothes, a white runecloth bandage, noticeable through the half opened laces of the shirt, “decorating” his right shoulder. The Regent couldn’t stop thinking the man looked exhausted, as if he had been food, sleep and mana deprived for weeks.

“What, would you have preferred I did it on a side street?”

“You speak too much and too loud”, Lor’themar Theron said, pacing between the window and his seat, across the richly decorated room. “Say things other people should not hear. Not yet. Not until I am sure…we are sure that we can secure the power…HE still has many loyal followers…not to mention those that blindly believe in his promises…”

“So we’ll wait until the proud High Elves of Quel’Thalas are no longer more than a bunch of blood thistle addicts, mind controlled into not having any opinions at all by their own leaders?”

“I’ve suddenly remembered your father saying you were quite ‘revolutionary and uncomfortable to deal with’, even for those happier times”, Lor’themar Theron added, quietly. Eireannan’s features contorted in an awkward expression, as if he had just eaten something unpleasant and was in doubt whether to spit or to swallow. Then, it all wiped away and there was again that sarcastic half-smile that would have annoyed the calmest of men.

“Let us not talk about the dead. The living are of more concern to me.”

“Those returning from the Outland are respected. You just don’t go killing them in the middle of Tranquilien, in the dead of the day…”

“The ‘respected’ person sew me with a poisoned dagger.” Eireannan gestured towards his bandaged shoulder – he had had a healer only remove the fast spreading effects of the poison itself and left the wound unclosed, for the “scenic effect”, as he had confessed to Laandra. It was slightly uncomfortable but he had survived the Scarlet Monastery. An inch deep slash was not even worth mentioning in the context.

He fought to control his tone and attitude. It wasn’t highly recommended to push it too far, not with the Regent of Quel’Thalas. He was treading a pretty fine line, Eireannan thought, but when had he ever done different? And hell, after listening to Laandra’s nightmarish story, he felt angry!

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about”, the other man said and Eireannan shifted out of his own thoughts, somehow surprised at the easiness with which the Regent had left the previous matter drop.

So we are playing, he thought, hiding the smile that threatened to betray his real mindset.

I’ll do you game and I’ll do Sylvanas.

But I’ll do mine as well, whether you like it or not.