[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - CliffsNotes Edition

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 Summer was the season of war. Winter was the season of politics, but only a fool would think the latter was any less deadly than the former. 
 
 Outside the tall glass windows the snow continued to fall, and blanketed everything in a layer of soft white powder. Inside, numerous fires and braziers crackled cheerfully in an effort at driving away the worst of the chill but even then the courtiers and their bodyguards who filled the courtroom dressed warmly in many layers, the various cuts and designs the latest in Elvish fashion. Servants dressed in the blue and silver of the hosting Owl Clan moved about the room carrying trays of small delicacies and fine drinks. Faith Alathir plucked a thimble glass of wine off one tray, and sipped at it, her eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces of both friends and enemies. 
 
 It had taken her servants nearly two hours to prepare her for the day's activities, their endless brushing of her hair and making sure each piece of her robes were perfectly layered and positioned. A few slim silver rings set with sapphires graced her fingers while a jeweled comb had been placed in her dark hair to pin it in place. She was the perfect image of an Elvish maiden: beautiful, graceful and proper. 
 
 But her reputation as one of the more daring and radical figures in the courts would have been misplaced if she did not find ways to buck at the traditionalist within the court. To do so she wore a pair of earrings not of Elvish make, and indeed not even of the Fae. They were of Human-make, their simple silver chains and dangling gemstones exotic to the eyes of most Fae. This simple act of rebellion, a rejection of the status quo no matter how minor found fertile ground in the younger generation of Elves who never knew anything else than the New World. 
 
 Hilary Flint felt every bit as uncomfortable as he looked, forced as he was into robes far too ornate and cumbersome for his taste. He had been strongly encouraged to leave his sword in the care of'blade polishers', servants tasked with making sure the court proceedings went without violence or bloodshed due to brash warriors or rash words. The fact that they also attended to the care of their charges' swords was a merely an after-thought. The two knives he had on his person were barely adequate in his eyes, his fingers itching for something to rest on. So he instead hooked a thumb through sash of grey silk and tried his best to appear not worth the trouble of speaking to, something that was n't very difficult as most Fae tried to pretend he did n't exist. 
 
 Various games and events took place during the Winter Court, each as much chance to discuss issues and needs as to amuse the guests. Various artists of renown and fame had been invite to showcase their talents, musicians and dancers performing for the courtiers and emissaries. For the more martially inclined there were a seemingly endless list of tournaments and competitions, including contests of archery and horsemanship. The Court, like much about the Fae, was littered with layers of intrigue and political warfare, each family and attending clan working to obtain the greatest alliances and trade deals while impeding their rivals' attempts as well. Flint had no doubt what was going on behind closed doors and paper screens but etiquette demanded that he remain silent on the matter. 
 
 Faith finished her drink and placed it on a passing servant's tray before flicking open her fan and leaning towards Flint to whisper. 
 
 `` Do you see that Spriggan over by the Eastern Doors, the one with the green necklace? That's Lyla Meadowsong, daughter to Lord Geron himself.'' 
 
 Flint did n't bother to hide his tired sneer. 
 
 `` And that concerns me, how?'' 
 
 Faith smiled and swatted her bodyguard with her fan in mild rebuke. 
 
 `` The Falling Dusk Clan have always been a thorn in my family's side for generations... Ten thousand years or so to give you a sense of time.'' 
 
 `` Oh great,'' Flint lied. `` A feud older than humanity's Bronze Age? How fascinating. I'm sure I can be of use for that; that is if you want someone dead or maimed or wishing they were dead. Political warfare is more your forte, Faith.'' 
 
 Faith continued to smile, nodding slightest as plans began to unfold in her mind. 
 
 `` Flint, when was the last duel you fought?'' 
 
 `` To first blood or to the death?'' He asked almost bored. `` Four weeks for the former and six months for the latter. Why, you want me to step on some tiny Elvish toes with my big oafish feet and then chop their head off?'' 
 
 Faith gave a gasp of mock surprise, hiding a stage blush behind her flickering fan. 
 
 `` Oh *me? * Never! Just the thought of it makes me ill. However, if I, in the process of lower their status in the eyes of the Clans raise a few hackles... I might find an eager blade or two or three to be of great use to me.'' 
 
 Flint laughed at that, and rubbed a callused thumb against his unshaven jaw. 
 
 `` Yeah? And I wonder where you could find such a blade...''
