(Legacy story: This is no longer canon, as I’ve reworked this scene entirely.)
Under the table, Varra clenched her fists in annoyance. It was like talking to a brick wall. “Look, I’m not saying we give the people free roam of the city. I realize nobody in Upper Terrace would agree to that. But we have to do something. We need a more defensive presence in the primary city.”
“No, we don’t. We’ve done it this way for hundreds of years. Trust me, it has always worked. No substantial threats have come to the kingdom, so there is no reason to change things.”
She looked down into the courtyard of the palace, and the stone, spear shaped obelisk in the center. The single most dangerous object in Tebrein. Right in the center of the capital. And the only people who knew what it was capable of were the Hands of Aeneus and their seconds.
“I realize this is a lot to take in,” Elodrus explained, grabbing his wine glass as a Tenshari servant refilled it in passing. “But what you’re proposing would be a tactical blunder. If we pull troops from Lower Terrace into the inner city, people will ask questions. We can’t tell them honestly why we would make such a seemingly useless decision, and it will draw attention to the wrong places.”
“But what if the Spear Gate activates and we are invaded from the inside?”
Elodrus shook his head. “There is no need for concern, darling. The Gate has been dormant for decades. In fact, I hadn’t been the appointed Hand of Ceremony for three weeks before it opened.”
She tensed at that. “So what’s stopping it from opening again, now that I’m a newly appointed Hand?!”
“Relax, relax,” he soothed, gesturing for her to sit back down as he lowered his voice. “The answer is nothing, but as I’ve said, there’s no reason to believe it will open any time soon, either. Do sit down, you don’t want to draw attention.”
Varra glanced about the scarcely populated dining hall as she sat back down. It was more of an immense open corridor, really. She had often eaten here as a child, but knowing what that obelisk was now changed everything. It made her feel vulnerable. As if it was staring at her. Tasting her fear.
“I admit that I’ve lost sleep since I’ve relocated to my new chambers in the palace. It is customary that a Hand’s bedroom has a window facing the Spear Gate, but I find it unnerving. I’ve had the servants cover the window, but it stares at me just the same.”
“It does have that effect on people,” Elodrus nodded. “And, allow me to say that I do admire your willingness to take action. You are so like your mother in that regard. In many ways you’ve taken your duties in stride. I find that remarkable, but rest assured that everything we do is for a very good reason, and taking drastic measures out of fear is political suicide.”
“I’d much rather commit political suicide than tactical suicide,” she murmured. “We could have an entire army in the palace within minutes at any point in time and there would be nothing we could do. All five Hands and each of their seconds could have their throats slit during the night and then both Terrace and Tebrein would be left with no government. What good is my ‘willingness to take action’ as the Hand of Defense if I am not allowed to take defensive action?”
He took a long sip of wine before responding, frowning as he did. “Much of the things we do is directed by the experience we have. Your being appointed Hand is unprecedented because you are so young, and not even a groomed second. But desperate times call for desperate measures, Varra. At twenty winters you are by far the youngest Hand to walk the palace grounds in at least a century. Worry not, however. The other Hands and I have discussed this, and we will be more than happy to shelter the burden of your office until you are old enough to really understand your duties.”