The Silver House

"Now, blast it, where is the report man? Speak up!"
The shout of the youthful, but powerful Count Chace echoed through the halls, the regal upper court decorated in shimmering banners of dark blue and silver. In the higher chambers of House Herrsan, the Silver House of the five, sunlight streamed in lazily through the high, tall windows from the cooler outside, where the chill winds were dulled against silvery stone. As opposed to the dark stone house of Countess India, some week or two's travel northeast of Count Chace's seat of power, the entire castle glittered in silver stone and dark blue banner streamers, the color of the depths of Lake Imirad.
As the doors on the far end burst open in the long, elegant hallway and the Count strode in, as usual, in the mid-afternoon time upon the sundial, the huscarl guards at attention here and there throughout snapped to attention. The high court, which was usually either empty in quiet strength or filled with buzzing, lesser nobles, was now occupied only by the few guards, the Count who strode in between his two highest huscarls, and, as always...the map table. Around which a few officers stood, on the far end.
If Chace was in a bad mood, he didn't seem so, despite the shout that rang across the hall. The various carls and officers that stood at the far end, near one of the massive windows that looked out over the river and fertile plains below.
The nearest commander, a higher ranking man who was dressed in full armor, looked up with a grin as the count strode in.
"Good afternoon, my lord!" He called out, cheerfully enough. The count waved vaguely in answer, as if preoccupied, trying to decide if he wanted to hum a tune or talk with himself. The commander spoke something in low tones with his fellow officers, and turned again to the table covered in maps and reports.
The count strode down the long, polished hall quickly and confidently, the huscarls behind him hurrying to keep up. He was a young man, slender and tall, though his rather dark face would give him away as someone perhaps older than that. His light gray eyes had a friendly, warm gaze, though perhaps slightly hidden under a crop of unruly black hair half the time. A smile was on his face, though, despite his commanding voice.
"Ah, commander Rethaan, Caidatris, where is my report?" Count Chace reached the heavy oaken table with a pleasant smile, though his usual commanding gaze brought them all to attention. One of the younger officers, across the table, fumbled for a paper and yanked it hurriedly out of his belt, passing it to the Count.
"Here you are, my lord." The younger officer bowed stiffly, his light armor clanking as he settled back again. The cool winds blew in through the window, across the vast green fields that were ruled by the Silver House, the distant sounds of river barges and the cries of ravens on the wind.
Pushing back the dark blue cape fluidly and relaxing with a foot on one chair as he took the report, the count nodded in thanks and quickly scanned through the rough writing, while the officers stood about, talking or waiting for the daily verdict.
The count frowned at some lines, smiled at others, grimly repeated a few to himself, and seemed to scan the page twice before he finished, as if making sure everything was correct.
There was a silence, before he looked up and nodded. "Good enough, gentlemen!" He announced, at length, a slight smile on his face as a few of the more responsible captains visibly relaxed.
"We're making good progress on that dam, let's keep that up! But you'll put more men on the three forts along the riverbank, Rethaan, we'll have them done by midwinter if we try." He paused for a moment, and then interrupted the one named Rethaan, the taller, larger man, before he could reply.
"And for goodness sake, put more men on the northwest edge! I won't have those Goblin raiders burning and sacking those outpost villages, understood? Put more riders up there, and keep those mountains watched!" He returned with a muttering to the report list, while one of the chief commanders quickly spoke to his neighbor across the table, as an order for better patrols to the northwest. The younger officer who had brought the report excused himself quickly and hurried off to get to it, immediately.
The Silver House, House Herrsan, was probably the second strongest in Savarica, second only to the dominant House Davardi herself man for man. It was by far the fastest, the toughest, and definitely the most disciplined and equipped army in Savarica, as Herrsan had learned to be over the decades. The five houses weren't always at peace, and when Davardi, who was by far the largest, got too power hungry or any other small coalition of lesser houses decided to rebel, it was usually the militaristic Herrsan carls that were eventually called out, one way or the other. The count, his tough group of soldiers and riders, and the people themselves had learned to be quick and tough, living between the edge of the wilds and half greedy House Davardi all their lives, and so a major part of the house's ruler time was spent doing such things as building, training, preparing, and above all, watching. A silver standard that mostly stood for justice, and especially survival, the Herrsan people were a hardy people that knew how to live by their wits and their constantly disciplined sword arms.
He made it through about the fourth patrol report from the forest edge in the west when the one that had been named Commander Huscarl Caidatris suddenly coughed, and spoke up.
"My lord?"
"Erm? Yes, Caidat?" Chace looked up briefly with a smile before burying himself again in the rough parchments.
"You recieved a message from House Davardi today, this morning."
The count abruptly looked up, smile gone. "What? Where?"
Pulling out yet another report from his belt, the commander handed it over.
"Blast, you don't tell me these things, for goodness sake..." Chace muttered briefly, grabbed the message and scanning it over hurriedly. Anything from the strongest house had to be treated carefully.
After a long pause, the count sighed visibly. "Ach, just a summons." He looked up, around at his small staff, the arms and eyes on his lands. "Another council in Ilelphosta, all the houses gathering again." He grunted, "A few weeks, I'll probably go." After a moment's quiet, he looked up again, as if a new thought came to him.
"Caidatris?"
The smaller, slender man who had earned his huscarl title looked up quickly. "Yes, my lord?"
"Is the new house skiff finished yet? I forgot myself..."
"Yes, my lord, that was finished two weeks ago."
"Oh. Good. Excellent." Chace visibly brightened. "There...it hasn't been tried yet, has it?"
"No, my lord, since you expressly ordered it for you to sail the river with."
"Excellent! I'll merely sail downriver to Ilelphosta then...been needing a good river voyage anyways." He chuckled to himself, enjoying the idea of a luxurious trip down, and returned to the busy table of protecting and keeping watch over his land.