The Shadow and The Huntress

It was a difficult corner to be in. Faelyn was an archivist, not a councilman. Where once he had been of noble birth, such days were so long ago that they bore no weight, and had not for the vast majority of his existence. The Huntress was right to say that Avorra's fate was not in their hands. This was a council matter. But still there was something that pestered at the back of his mind. The part of him that saw the woman that stood before him now. 

No, you are not. came his words, soft, but still yet firm. You are the Huntress, and the Marshal of Arlathan. You are right that I do not know much of your past. But that is not what matters. Who you are today is what matters. there was the shadow of a smile given, a small uptick at the corner of his mouth, a rare sight on the man's face. 

But it was gone as quickly as it had shown, and just as quietly. I gave quite clear instructions. Whether or not they will be followed remains to be seen. The option to sit and return with a civil tongue in her head, or to leave. As simple as that. I would ask that within these walls, we do not start conflict, merely finish it. The nightmare it would be to lift blood from these pages would set me back months at least. It was a small joke, his tone lightening just a bit with it. Though the archivist was not known to be the one to point humor out in such things. Though we shall see what the imekari does in the end, I suppose. If she remains within our borders, let us escort her to the council, hm?