Compromise

The peaceful tranquillity of Argon's slumber was shattered as Isolde yanked the blinds open, allowing sunlight to flood the room. He groaned in displeasure, shielding his eyes from the harsh light.

"Ughhh... what the hell, woman?" He grumbled, his voice groggy from sleep. "I need my rest."

"Come on, you lazy oaf!" Isolde chided him, her tone playful yet firm. She was already dressed and ready for the day, her energy contrasting Argon's lethargy.

Argon, irked by the abrupt end to his rest, reluctantly got up and dressed in his clothes and armour. He found Isolde to be far more bothersome than he had initially anticipated. He would much rather have Melvin be the recipient of her nagging.

"There are some books I looted from Oakshade in the basement," Argon informed Isolde, "I want you to go through them. They might contain some important information. Use Melvin for help, if need be." He concluded, preparing to leave the room.

"Right, I'm off," He declared, ready to face the day despite the rocky start.

Isolde looked surprised, "You're leaving already? I thought we might spend the day together," she remarked, a tinge of disappointment in her voice.

Argon scoffed at the idea, "With war looming on the horizon, as your father himself predicted, do you really think we have the luxury to sit around and play at romance?"

"Why don't we have lunch together? A little break from all this... seriousness."

Argon paused, taken aback by the sudden change in the conversation. He studied her face for a moment before sighing, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Alright," he relented, "we can do lunch."

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he added, "Meet me outside the village. Have Melvin arrange everything."

Having had enough, Argon briskly left the room, his steps resounding heavily in the quiet manor. He detoured down the corridor and rapped his knuckles against Brolan's door. "Yes?" came the muffled response from within.

"Come down quickly," Argon commanded, his voice terse. "We have much to discuss."

Argon then descended the stairs, making his way to the main room. There, he positioned himself by the large wooden table, his mind already beginning to churn with the many matters that needed addressing. He stood there, waiting for Brolan to join him, his thoughts turning over strategy and tactics, plans and contingencies, each vital to their upcoming endeavours.

Argon's wait is not long, as Brolan finally appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in his Dayless attire. Argon gave him a nod, the urgency evident in his gaze. "Let's go," he said simply, leading the way out of the manor.

They stepped out into the morning light, the air still crisp with dawn. "What's all this?" Brolan asked, looking at Argon curiously, "Why are we up earlier than usual?"

Argon continued walking, setting a brisk pace. "We have work to do," he replied, his tone clipped. "We're going to turn Blackwood into the gem of the entire territory. And," he glanced at Brolan, his expression serious, "we have to start planning our little trip to Lake Serendis."

Argon's declaration caused Brolan to scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, fuck. I thought after a good night's sleep you would've realized it was stupidity," he retorted. "When something is described as a 'needle in a haystack,' the odds are not in our favor, Argon."

Undeterred, Argon merely smirked at his friend's scepticism. "Don't be so sure," he replied confidently. "My luck has got us this far. It will get us even further."

"By the way what are you going to do about Saera and Lyra? Now that you have a wife," he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

In response, Argon simply shrugged, a casual smile curling his lips. "My wife is more beautiful and carries a certain allure due to her status," he stated matter-of-factly. "I'll favor her, of course, but I'll continue to enjoy Saera and Lyra on the side when I feel like it."

Brolan burst into a hearty laughter, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the manor. "You are most wise, Master," he complimented, clapping Argon on the back in a friendly manner. "In ten lifetimes, I couldn't hope to become as wise as you."

As Argon walked, he took note of the ongoing construction nearby. Five men worked hard on a wooden structure, sweat glistening on their foreheads under the morning sun. Not far from them, a horse was hitched to a cart, the animal's flanks heaving from the exertion of hauling the heavy load.

"What's all this about?" Argon asked, motioning towards the scene.

Brolan, following his gaze, replied, "The merchant, Yoren, has sent someone to man a shop here in Blackwater."

"When did that happen?" Argon asked, surprised that such a development had occurred without his knowledge.

"While we were at the wedding, Master," Brolan clarified.

Argon huffed in annoyance, "Hm, Yoren should've said something."

"Ah, to hell with it," Argon sighed dismissively, "Let Melvin deal with all this administrative nonsense. Let's go to Lake Serendis."

"Now?!" Brolan questioned incredulously, "But we don't even know the way!"

"Isolde said it was to the south of here. That should be enough to get us started," Argon reasoned, "We can't risk asking someone for more precise directions. If word gets out that we're heading to the ruins, more eyes will be on us. We'll say we're going on a patrol around Horntide to foster good relations with the other villages. That should keep any prying eyes off our backs for a short while."

With a hurried pace, Melvin approached them, "My lord! As per your request, the wooden tub has been completed. The smith and some of the villagers labored tirelessly over it."

Argon nodded in approval, "Good, good. Make sure it's delivered to my wife. She's been quite...outspoken about the bathing situation." He chuckled a little, picturing Isolde's irritated expression. "Hopefully, this should pacify her."

Argon turned towards Brolan, his expression serious. "Brolan, gather supplies for the little voyage I mentioned," he ordered.

Brolan nodded, his face a mask of concentration. "Of course, master," he replied, immediately turning on his heel and striding away to carry out his task.

Meanwhile, Melvin was puzzled, obviously curious about the "voyage" Argon had mentioned.

"Ah, nothing to worry about, Melvin," Argon replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand, his eyes following Brolan as he walked away to gather supplies. "We're simply preparing for a diplomatic voyage. We're planning to visit the surrounding villages, aiming to foster good relations. Ensuring the prosperity and security of Blackwood involves building alliances, after all." He flashed Melvin a reassuring smile, concealing his actual intentions behind the facade of lordly duties.

Ignoring the hustle and bustle of the burgeoning village, Argon turns to Melvin, the elderly steward awaiting his next orders. "The mine is functioning excellently, my lord," Melvin reports dutifully, his eyes gleaming with an efficient shine. "Would you like to see it? Or perhaps the store of hematite? Or the steel ingots we have managed to produce?"

He points towards the blacksmith's workshop, the rhythmic hammering echoing from the forge a testament to the hard work put in. "The blacksmith has been tirelessly working. The men are already well provisioned with new uniform armor."

Nodding at Melvin's words, Argon waved a dismissive hand, dismissing the idea of visiting the mine or inspecting the stores. "I'm sure you have it all taken care of, Melvin," he said, confident and relaxed. "Get the tub to the manor. I have a feeling my wife will have more demands of you." His eyes twinkled with amusement at the thought of Isolde's constant requests.