[ IP ] Defending her honor

The room was richly furnished, the walls covered in a dark stained wainscot and littered with numerous portraits and landscapes. A fire crackled in the hearth, more a token of light than a source of warmth. Numerous servants fluttered in and out of the space, their hands full of fresh flowers or clean linens. One of them, carrying a silver tea tray, set it down in front of Faith Alathir and bobbed a curtsy. Faith thanked her, and the maid smiled and left. 
 
 `` Flint? Would you care a cup?'' 
 
 Hilary Flint was standing by a window, its green drapes pulled half-aside. He was peering a something below, his hand unconsciously resting on his pistol's grip. Flint did that when he was nervous, Faith knew, and usually had reason. 
 
 `` Flint?'' 
 
 `` Your cousin's provocateurs are out in full swing today. Whipping the crowd up into a frenzy. I do n't like it.'' 
 
 `` My cousin Rinlen is a slug,'' Faith said. `` And although he is willing to lie, cheat and steal his way towards the throne, he's not willing to get his hands dirty. You'll find that Elven politics can be just as vicious and deadly as war.'' 
 
 Flint nodded, the green of his Ranger's cloak melded with the emerald drapes. 
 
 `` I know. That's why I hate politicians.''
