Political Dialogue
For context: Set in the capital, Wellrose. Count Cyrus Sokolov is the father of Lady Carlotta Sokolov, and an attempt was just made on her life. The attackers wore the sigil of House Orangehand, and people want answers. The two Orangehand brothers in the city have a generational feud with Fraun Arrecotte and the Arrecotte family. They think they were framed. Cyrus is desperately trying to keep the peace and not cause the situation to get out of hand.
Fraun bore a striking resemblance to his father, Frederick. Cyrus remembered his father, the Count of Encheres. Cyrus was the man who ordered the assault on their homeland, and was responsible for the Battle of Slate Rock. He remembered the hatred on Frederick’s face when he visited the capital after the war. The piercing blue eyes, signature of their house, unnerved even him. They bore a cold terror that even Cyrus did not know.
“Count Sokolov,” greeted Fraun, bowing his head.
Surprisingly, the boy didn’t seem to be shaken by his abrupt arrival, almost as if he expected it.
“I pray you’ll excuse my unannounced visit, unfortunately there are matters that cannot wait.”
The Arrecotte smiled, “Of course my lord, I’ve come to learn to expect the unexpected.”
Closing the door, Fraun showed him to a seat before the large desk at which he sat, leaving the two guards in the hall. Cyrus watched Fraun, trying to read him as the boy poured two cups of wine. Cyrus accepted, sipping the drink.
“What did you want to discuss?” asked the lordling.
Relaxing in his seat, Cyrus answered, “Your name has been mentioned in relation to the recent attack on my daughter.”
“In what way?”
“You’ve been accused,” said Cyrus, “Some believe you’re the one who gave the order.”
“The order to assassinate Lady Carlotta?” Fraun scoffed, “What do you take me for, a fool? Besides, it wasn’t my coat of arms found on those brigands rags.”
Cyrus rubbed his temple, “Anyone can paint a hand on some cloth. I don’t believe Ryan and Daniel to be the ones responsible.”
“So they think I framed them, that's what they said? I know your contempt for my family still burns hot, but I’d hoped you’d have more respect for a house like ours.”
“Truthfully my boy, I have no respect for traitors,” coldly said Count Sokolov.
“My father was no traitor. He took action against a weak tyrant, and your family, to this day, looks down on us for it,” spat Fraun.
“Regardless of our history, it plays no part in this. Confess,” ordered Cyrus.
“I will not. I am innocent, my family is innocent. I am not my father, you have no reason to bear this distrust towards me,” Fraun continued, “Why do you trust the Orangehands?”
“I don’t trust them, and frankly, I don’t trust anyone. But they have no reason for this.”
Fraun spoke through clenched teeth, “And I do? Pray tell me, Count Sokolov, what is my motive for this atrocity?”
“Your father desires to be the Keeper of Kellburg, doesn’t he?”
Fraun’s eyes widened for a moment, then they narrowed, “Where did you hear this...rumor, my lord?”
“It’s no rumor, it’s purely my own speculation. I don’t need an answer, but if it’s true, which I believe it is, abandon that ambition. War with the northern lands will ravage the realm.”
“Then mere speculation is all it is. We want the same thing Cyrus; neither of us wants war,” Fraun quickly dismissed Cyrus’ prying,
“You’ve come here today to accuse me, but let me prove my loyalty to you. The day the courts meet is approaching, and you have many enemies. I have men in the city, let me be your eyes and ears.”
Cyrus gently stood and walked to one of the bookshelves in the room. He traced his fingers along the wooden frame.
“Sir Fraun,” started Count Sokolov, “You have a sharp tongue, and your words are enticing. I am in a desperate time, and I lack allies. However, you overestimate yourself,” Fraun slowly recoiled as he listened to the older man, “When you look at the Orangehands what do you see?”
“Two inexperienced, scheming, bumbling fools.”
Cyrus turned and faced the boy, “You are the same. You’re an infant mouse in a pit of vipers. Your arrogance blinds you of your own verdancy. So, do not sit here and try to convince me of your usefulness, for I know your worth, and it is little.”
“You humble me,” said Fraun, glancing away from Cyrus’ eyesight.
Cyrus scoffed, “No I don’t. Men like you are never humbled, they always find a way to retain their pride.”
“Perhaps, but as green as I am, I still know my right to appeal to the throne for a public trial,” Fraun smirked.
“No,” declared Cyrus, “The matter of these accusations will remain private.”
Fraun folded his arms, “Respectfully, what leverage do you have to keep me from arranging a trial? Will you kill me and doubtlessly begin another war, or allow me to confront those that accused me of attacking your daughter?”
“You’d take such a drastic action just to slight me?” asked Cyrus.
“It’s not out of pettiness, my lord. Rumors will spread and I have every right to defend the integrity of my name.”
Cyrus hesitated, he racked his mind for possible solutions. A trial would certainly inflame the courts more than they already were, it would pit house against house and force lines to be drawn. However, he knew the boy was right, there was nothing he could do. Cyrus had the means to take action, but any move he made could undo all of his work thus far. Ignoring the issue and not providing any closure to the public would be worse, it would show weakness.
“Verywell,” Cyrus began, “A trial shall be arranged, but I cannot promise a decisive outcome, especially at a time such as this.”
“I do not need to see them put behind bars, but surely you can understand that I must defend my case to the public.”
This was the outcome the Arrecotte wanted, and Cyrus knew that. Allowing Carlotta to continue to meet with him would be a gamble, as she was moldable. However, he knew it would be more dangerous to leave the boy unchecked. It had been a long time since Cyrus had felt so trapped, keeping the peace proved to be far more difficult than breaking it.
“I will speak to the Emperor on your behalf,” Cyrus said, “Notices will be posted in every district, and the masses will come. You will give them your spectacle and they will forget it as they always do. Is this agreeable Lord Arrecotte?”
Fraun hesitated, and then nodded, “It is, my lord. I will give the people what they want, and you what you need.”
Cyrus chuckled softly, “Then that is all Fraun Arrecotte, good day,” Cyrus stood and walked towards the door, turning to face the seated boy before he left, “I am growing weary of being taken lightly. All these years of peace have softened my reputation. Do not forget, Lord Arrecotte, what happened to your family when they fought me. You were not there to hear the weeping of House Helm but I was, for it was my hand that struck them down.”
“Was that a threat?” questioned Fraun.
“It was,” Cyrus left and closed the door behind him.
(just wanted to know if it read well, i’ve always struggled a bit with dialogue. sorry if it’s hard to follow, i didn’t want to give a whole paragraph of context on every little thing that was mentioned)