In the weeks that had passed, the Duke of Ardal had made fewer appearances than ever before. It was initially looked upon as little more than an unusual absence, but as time went on rumors naturally began to spread about the absent noble. Some amongst the dukedom spread rumors that the duke had fallen ill, or had been poisoned— others claimed that their lord had taken to matter of the occult, and that the council was in some way covering up the fact that the duke was secretly a magister, or in league with other nations.
None of it mattered much to Valen. He had, in fact, become something of a recluse since the incident. The shock of a potential attempt on his life and the chaos that the woman who'd invaded the duchy had left severe scars on his mind, which would not be quick to heal. Nightmares played the young Duke, nightmares of his death, at the hands of assassins, of his kidnapping by unseen forces, of his lack of control over his own life. It was no wonder that his health continued to decline even in the absence of these forces.
Before long, the council found itself in quite the enviable situation for their own purposes; with the Duke so physically and mentally disposed, the council found more freedom in their actions than ever before. Where the Duke originally had the final say, in many of the taxes, tariffs, and legislation's that were brought before the Duchy, his recent night terrors, and resulting the lack of physical and mental strength at all, but sept him of his ability to make strong judgment decisions, allowing the council full reign over the future of the land and its people.
Today, the Duke was to entertain guests from the countryside. It was a common enough occurrence for the people of Ardal to request off a meeting with the Duke either to discuss matters of state or for potential sponsorship— though in recent days the number of meetings had dwindled due to the rumors surrounding the Duke's health. And as he sat upon the throne of Ardal's demesne, it was clear that there was some truth to those rumors. Adorned and noble robes, Valen's looked like a shadow of his former self, which, in and of itself, was quite the statement to make. There was an uncanny dullness to his eyes, as though the life had been stripped from them, and although he sat upright in his throne, he appeared close to ready to fall over at any given moment.
'Shoulders straight, gaze forward. Let no one question your foresight, even when you know not where you're headed. That is the way of a ruler.' Admonishing words from his father. They rang in his head again and again whensoever he was required to attend such meetings. To his left, and his right, a member of the council stood; stand ins for the Dukes, personal aids in these matters of great import. They had prepped him several times over with dialogue for the upcoming meeting; primarily lines of difference, which within, allow them to answer as needed. Weeks ago, Valen may have protested to some degree; today, however, he could do little more than nod in acceptance. He lacked the strength of will to do much more in his present condition.
