In the company of darkness and shadows, a lone figure made his way over the stones with no direction other than that of pacing back and forth. With feet that would have shaken the stones below him had the mortar not held them in place, Istvan marched with anger. His tongue lay trapped between his teeth, with a force that lay just shy of drawing blood, as an ever-growing frustration blossomed with it.

"About time," Istvan said as the door finally swung open. "Do you know how long I have been waiting? Making me look like a common fool."

"I was busy and there were many eyes," Fodor replied with a taunting smile, as he entered with a lit candle in his grip and quickly closed the door. "I did not think it would have been smart to simply depart and bring them here with me. And being seen leaving at the same time is a good way to get rumors started. We are not yet ready to be seen as allies. Though I am sure I can go back and get some others if you would like."

"Enough," Istvan ordered with a growl, taking his place at the table with a hard fall on the empty stool. "Let's try to make this quick. You said enough about watchful eyes already. What do you have?"

"Always so eager to be done with things, where is your sense of politics?" Fodor asked with a light laugh. "That is half the thrill of life."

"I don't want that thrill," Istvan replied with a dismissive wave. "The only thrill that I want, is victory. Nothing else matters until a victory is had."

"All for a means to an end, is that it?" Fodor asked with a laugh. "There has to be more than that."

"There isn't," Istvan replied. "Not until there are no other obstacles. Then, and only then, can you indulge in the prospects of having no enemies left. And if we act quickly, we can see that it does happen soon. So soon, it could happen by the time we gather with the council. So, I say again, what do you have?"

With a smile made ever wider and his stained teeth exposed to the light of the flame, Fodor moved to grab a drink and quench his mouth. "I have missed the wine you collect. Even though I spend a fortune on the stuff myself, I can never seem to get anything as good as yours."

"Tell me," Istvan ordered. "What news have you uncovered?"

"From the Queen you mean?" Fodor asked back, filling his mouth with another gulp.

A silent nod was all that was replied.

"Well, that's the funny thing," Fodor commented, scratching his chin. "I have seen her talking—"

"As have I," Istvan interrupted. "Always chatting away."

"Playing politics perhaps?" Fodor asked.

"Perhaps, you don't know?" Istvan asked with a mixed hint of skepticism and shock.

"I know enough about her, that I know that she is playing at something, but nothing to be concerned with," Fodor explained. "She has—"

"From what has been going on, do you not find that suspicious?" Istvan interrupted, raising his voice above the other.

"As I was about to say..." Fodor continued. "That is her nature. A nature that has been suppressed after her marriage. A nature that I am sure will be suppressed once again. I care little that she has met with a few people. I care little that she—"

A knock at the door, pulled both men's eyes along with their breaths, as a silence swallowed them whole for a moment.

"Did you invite someone?" Istvan asked.

"Depends who's at the door," Fodor replied. "Shall we see who it is?"

A nod was all that Istvan ordered for him to go and check.

"Her claim is a weak one," Fodor said, as a sinister smile grew over his lips and he advanced towards the door.

"A weak one?" Istvan asked with suspicion.

"Yes, a weak one," Fodor explained. "I have a man that can explain it better than me. Come in, Father."

With a slow whine that did little other than add tension to impatient blood, the door swung open. There draped in a vestment that was not one of war or crime, but of a shepherd to those that were kept in a flock, stood a holy man. What hair he had lay hidden under a plain cap that hugged his scalp and kept it warm. Though while his appearance held the illusion of modesty, it was the cross that dangled from his neck that caught the eye with its glitter.

"Why have you—?" Istvan began to ask, but stopped as he caught sight of the books under his arm. "Is that what I think it is?"

Silently the holy man moved his way across the room and took his place in comfort between light and dark, pulling forth the books and placing them before him. "My lords, may God guard you and keep you and your estates safe."

"Thank you," Fodor said with a smile, turning to his guest and giving him a nod. "You may begin."

"I was indeed my lord," the holy man replied. "In these pieces of work behind me I have found the truth of legacy. And that truth is a simple one. The Queen of Hungary, Elizabeth, whose husband has just passed is the rightful Queen to the throne."

"What?" Istvan asked, a look of rage creeping its way across face. "What! That was not what I asked for! That is not what I need to hear! I need you to—"

"That was not the extent of what I found, my lord," the holy man interrupted. "No, what I found is while she is the rightful heir to the throne, she has no male heir to claim it. If she were to have had a child, one that was a male, she might have had the right to claim regency until he is of appropriate age. But, alas she does not."

"Not yet..." Istvan mumbled to himself, as the anger that gripped him slowly dwindled.

"Furthermore, there is the political situation at hand," the holy man continued to explain. "Given the current situation on the southern and eastern border, the need for a King would be argued to be precedent. And given that the council has been gathered, therein lies the opportunity to decide if the Queen has the merit to rule as she sees fit. Or, if she does not. The records I have found are her lineage, which protects her from being stripped of her position. But it does show that the council, by majority, can decide the next King, and arrange a marriage that the Queen will be forced to accept."

"And if she does not accept it?" Istvan asked, leaning forward. "What if she refuses to accept the will of the council?"

A silence remained between the three, while the echo of his question vanished.

"If she does not accept the will of the council, then she will be held in—"

Istvan interrupted the holy man, with a bellowing laugh that filled the air. "Thank you, Father. You have given me the information I needed. Thank you. Now then, if you would see yourself out."

"You will be paid as we agreed," Fodor added. "You don't need to worry."

With a glance to Fodor, the holy man did as he was told and took his leave, vanishing the way he had come without uttering another word. The only signs of his prior presence, the books he had brought with him.

"So then," Fodor said as he scratched his chin and studied the books. "What is your plan?"

A wide smile grew over Istvan's face, as he turned his attention back to his sole companion. "It is a simple thing really. We are going to pick the next King."

A loud laugh left Fodor's lips. "And you think the Queen will just agree with who we pick? She will never agree to that."

"If it was simply us two, then I would agree," Istvan explained, his smile growing wider with each word that flowed through it. "But what makes you think it is only us two? Did you not hear what that man said?"

"You don't mean—?" Fodor began to ask, before he was interrupted.

"But I do," Istvan continued. "Like the birds of spring I have begun to sing. And I have found that many sing the same tune. But, you already know this, don't you?"

"Who, me?" Fodor asked back with a hint of a coy tone. "After listening to what you asked of the holy man there? How would I?"

"We will have to move fast," Istvan said. "We will have to pick a man we can agree on. And one who will agree with us."

"And one that will benefit us," Fodor added. "Can't let the opportunity of deciding the next King be left to the Queen alone. She is after all only a woman, Queen or not. Let me ask you something, do you think I should pay that holy man?"

"I wouldn't," Istvan replied without so much as a second thought. "Always get payed before you do the work."

"Sound advice," Fodor said with a grin. "So, what do you want to do with the Queen?"

"This is an opportunity," Istvan explained. "We have been given a great opportunity by God to secure our future. A future built around us. We should do well to pick a man who will be grateful for our loyalty and in turn, will reward us for it. We have a few days before the council is to meet. That gives us until then to set things in motion in the way we wish. A few days to lay the obstacles we desire. And if you are going to add anything about the child, then I say wait. The odds that the child is born still, or of no consequence, are good."