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At the moment, it would appear that Emperor Talus Kahar XIV is away from the throne room - more than likely enjoying dinner with the Empress. That gives no excuse for the Emperor's Hawk to relax. Instead, he sits at a writing desk off from the dais under flickering torchlight, perusing information scrawled on a parchment scroll. A herald escorts Lord Varal Mikin into the chamber and says, "Surrector Mikin, the guest I told you about." The herald offers a faint smile to Varal before bowing and stepping back into the hall, leaving Varal alone with Gell and a scattering of guards.
The Mikin that enters has seen better days. He's unarmed, and in simple garb. Although not disheveled, it's obvious that he hasn't slept in awhile. But perhaps the most noticeable part of his appearance is that some of his hair has been singed away, and half his face looks like its covered in a bad sunburn. "Milord Surrector, thank you for seeing me on such short notice," Varal says with a deep bow. "It is a great honor to finally meet you."
Gell Mikin glances up from the scroll, which he starts rolling tightly into a cylinder as he studies the newcomer. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing shrewdly as he gives Varal Mikin a quiet assessment. Moments later, the Surrector replies, "Perhaps you would like to sit?" He gestures at a plushly cushioned chair opposite him at the desk. "Before you collapse, that is."
Varal Mikin nods. "Of course, Milord Surrector, and thank you." Rubbing the burn on his face, he takes a seat. "I am sure you must be busy, given current events." There's a pause after that, and a flash of anger in the younger Mikin's eyes. "But that also happens to be why I am here. To put myself at your disposal."
"Tired of kissing torches, then?" Gell inquires, a mordant smile on his lips. He gestures at the scorched flesh. "We can get that treated, you know. Swiftsooth oil. Does wonders."
Varal smiles, but it reflects heartbreak instead of joy. "When the torch is Duke Hobet Mikin, Milord Surrector, I wish I . . . well, I trade wonders for punishment and a mark of my failure."
"Failure?" Gell's eyebrows arch. "I suppose we will see whether it was failure, Lord Mikin, or cleverly masked success."
"It was my duty to protect him," Varal states stubbornly. "But, perhaps there was nothing I could do lest I were Sunkissed." He takes a deep breath and forces himself to relaxing, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "But, given events, I believe it does give me an opportunity to pursue revenge."
Gell Mikin gives a sharp laugh. "Revenge? No. I have no need for vengeful hotheads." He then shakes the scroll lightly in his hand. "Especially not vengeful hotheads who can be considered, at least for now, a potential suspect in the conspiracy to murder the heads of our noble houses."
Varal Mikin's jaw drops for a heartbeart before a snarl jumps on his face. He rises to his feet, seething, "A suspect? Milord Surrector, I have been shown to the satisfaction of the Scourges not to be Touched, and a sworn and loyal bodyguard of Duke Mikin for nearly a decade. So loyal that he granted me my name and Light's Watch, which I'm sure you're aware controls the entrance to Light's Reach. I had the *least* reason to harm any of them, and to assert otherwise. . ." He trails off, again taking a breath and forcing himself to calm. "I am sure you are just being thorough and doing your due diligence for the Emperor, Milord Surrector, so assuring you of my innocence is likely to fall on deaf ears. But I assure you, you waste your time investigating me. Still, everything I have is at your disposal."
"At the moment, Lord Mikin, the clearest sign of your innocence - or total incompetence as a conspirator - is the fact that you have presented yourself to me within the walls of Fastheld Keep," the Surrector replies calmly, but with a chill in his voice as it slips to a near whisper. "Nevertheless, the Emperor finds the incriminating cry during the attack to be rather too obvious a link to the rebels of the Luminary. So, Touched or not, suspicion will come to those who were there, who survived, and who stood to gain from the demise of those nobles."
Varal Mikin slowly sits back down. "I am a Mikin, Milord Surrector. Regardless of whether you allow me to help you or not, I will find the Truth of who harmed my Duke and insulted my House, and I will bring it to the Light."
Gell Mikin furrows his brow. "If you can channel that rage of yours into something more productive, then perhaps I can put you to use. However, I worry that you are just one ill-uttered comment away from smashing someone in the face just for breathing. If what you need is merely a...release...well, there are some prisoners in the dungeon. At least one of them deserves *someone*'s wrath."
Varal Mikin smiles humorlessly. "Kind of you to offer, Milord Surrector, but I must decline. I was hoping you could give me something to channel my rage at, hence my presence here. I assure you that I can control myself, though I do wear my heart on my sleeve when provoked."
"All right, then," the Emperor's Hawk says, steepling his fingers as he observes his kinsman across the desk. "I will give you the opportunity. Should I receive information about a lead that you should investigate, I will send a raven to you with a message, providing the information. You will be expected to follow up on these suspects and report to me with your findings. Is this understood?"
Varal Mikin nods. "Completely understood, Milord Surrector."
Gell Mikin gives a cold smile. "Go, then. Get that burn treated. Sleep in the guest quarters in the northwest tower. Time enough for you to ride come morning."