"I will ask again, plainly," said the Irath, their accent unmistakable, its rough edges all the more apparent when speaking the elven tongue. "When the rites are complete and her spirit has passed on, may we take her body? To preserve it. In our sacred chamber."
The Lord Chancellor looked as though someone had slapped him.
"You will not," Seneschal said, voice sharp as broken glass. "You presume too much. That you would ask for her remains, her body, as if she were a relic to be entombed in your halls?"
"It is an honor among our kind," the Irath replied, undisturbed by the outrage. "We preserve only the rarest. The ones who altered the course of history. She was such a one. Surely you do not deny it."
"She was ours," said an elf, stepping forward. "Our queen. Not yours to preserve. Not yours to claim. You speak of reverence, but what you ask is little more than abduction, grave robbery dressed in courtesy."
The Irath diplomat inclined their head once, deep and deliberate.
"Then forgive me," they said. "No offense was meant. Only to remember."
"You've done both," the elf muttered.
The Irath did not bow again. They lingered, head lifting just enough to meet Seneschal's gaze with steady eyes.
"I ask something simpler, then," they said, their accent grinding against the smooth cadence of elven speech. "What was the cause of her death? And what is the condition of her body?"
The Lord Chancellor froze, and Vell felt the air in the hall grow colder.
"You speak out of turn," said Seneschal, his voice low. "To ask such a thing is to spit on our customs."
"Truth has no customs," the Irath replied, eerily calm. "It exists, whether spoken or not."
Seneschal stepped forward, his presence taller now, harder. "One more such sentence, and I will have you removed from these grounds. And your delegation sent home in shame."
The Irath seemed unimpressed. "Shame? There would be no shame. We seek only understanding."
"You seek what is not yours to know," Seneschal snapped. "The cause of her death lies with her kin and court. As her closest, I will not have her dissected by strangers, least of all by your twisted people or your king."
Courtesy demanded silence, but the Irath offered only a mechanical bow. "Then forgive me. There was no malice in the question."
"You've given offense all the same," Seneschal said, turning on his heel. "Go, before I call the guards."
The Irath demeanor didn't even change a bit, and then they left without another word.
When they were gone, Vell quietly exhaled.
The curiosity that had drawn him here now burned like a lit fuse.
Both the Irath and the united elves were hiding something.
Whatever it was, Vell wanted to find out.