[center][b]The Kingdom of Tuleria: Introduction[/b][/center]

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[i]Collaboration Brovo and Tempest[/i]

Latecoming, but still certain to arrive even with the sun already set was the Tulerian procession. They came in three equal lines, divided between the Magi Society, the Aristocracy and the Military. Yet even in this division, they remained unified in their distinct cultural flairs of posh accents, vibrant colors, loose fabrics, feathers and beads. Obvious tension could be noted, each line keeping to themselves and not interacting amongst themselves as they march, heads down and eyes shifting about warily.

The Magi Society, while more at ease apparently than the other two factions, was perhaps the most unified in attire and resorting to simpler robes. At the head stands a man whose eyes, particularly in the dark hours of the night, his eyes were erupt with a white light as he scans his surroundings lazily, pausing even as he stares at solid buildings and people, as if seeing through them.

In the center of the procession was the Aristocratic branch. Unlike the other two legs of the Triumvirate, who had opted for a representative in their higher eschalons to go, such as the Magi Councilman [url=http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/112/2/3/magic_sign_by_mikrob-d4x844x.jpg]Roarke Bezial[/url], the High King himself leads the way. However, in a tight ring about him, royal guard uncertainly proceed and keep guard, their shields strapped to their arms and their ornamental spears meant for more than show if needbe.

At the center of this ring of guard, [url=http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/362/7/8/hunter_king_by_apneicmonkey-d4dssdz.jpg]High King Boann Hyrill[/url] has his face set sternly, as the sparse scale plates on his body rasp from the tension in his muscles. His staff clicks on the ground as he goes, supporting his weight as he limps haphazardly. Also supporting him is a dark-skinned woman, [url=http://th01.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/f/2014/068/e/4/esme_by_a6a7-d79mp22.jpg]Jezmin[/url], obviously roaming gypsy. She leans in and whispers too softly for anyone but him to hear. 

Most agitated, though, would be the Military branch. Most noticeable was the increased number of lizardmen in their midst, many preferring the freedom to fight it offered. They were beginning to grow rowdy and some raise their heads challenging at the mistrusting gazes being cast their ways. The injury to Boann was being blamed greatly upon them, either falling through their security or allowed through. Still, they tried to ignore it and hold their pride intact.

At the head of the military procession was Marcela Adriana Otis. A long name for an ex-pirate, but it was hers nonetheless. Riding on a large lizard she looks back at her men, a mix of lizardmen and soldier, and spits on the dirt in disgust. A rowdy, disorganized lot, and not in the manner that she liked it. On her back was a dragon rocket of sorts. In truth it was simply a magical artifact that shot fireballs which exploded on impact and needed gunpowder for 'ammunition'. Still. [url=http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/152/1/5/steampunk_cannoneer_by_jubjubjedi-d67bs79.jpg]she[/url] certainly looked attractive enough for most.

"SOLDIERS!" She yells back at them. "Keep your eaye towards t' fore. There will be plenty o' thin's for you t' do here, you need not waste your energy on common bigotry." She hesitates a moment, then thoughtfully adds with a sly tone. "And if you can manage that, I might order your expenses paid for t' night in t' crown jewel o' Renalta." With that said, she ushers her lizard closer to Boann, motioning for a captain to take charge of the formation.

Roarke's attention sharply turns to the display as a cheer surges forth from the military branch. He gives a disapproving look but says naught, he was meant to be an observant eye and had no words to part for the rabble. Boann, though, chuckles and shakes his head, drawing his corded arm about Jezmin as he looks at Marcela. “Well, nice to see Varro sent someone with a little competence. I was more expecting an insult towards Renalta with him choosing a representative with your background. We know how he loathes the pirates.” He clucks his tongue in thought before raising his crested head, nodding at the torch-lit castle before them. “We are going to be making quite a statement already, arriving fashionably late, Admiral Otis. I would hate for things to explode just after we pass through their gates.”

"They won't." She states as she gently rubs her lizard's neck with her knuckles, scratching an itch it seemed as the lizard twitched with momentary happiness. "If they try it, they know I won't hesitate to put them on ship cleaning duty in Port Luclin... And you know how much they would adore trying to clean blood out of wood." Her eyes look up at the keep's guards, they weren't far from the entrance as she clicked her tongue. "I may be an ex-pirate but that just makes me more qualified to keep the rabble in line... As for you..." Her eyes examine the way he limped with a wince. "I am sorry I did not get to the assassin sooner."

Boann narrows his eyes before he rolls his shoulders, “It happens. It should be healed before long, thank my bloodlines.” He looks at the admiral uncertainly before offering a chuckle, “It only means the rumours are true and pushes certain issues forward.”

Roarke harrumphs from the side, “Such as the legitimacy of your place on the throne?”

Jezmin glares at him and with a thick accent that speaks more of the Free Holds combats, “That is not an issue. Not like the archaic dealings of the Mage Guild and the conscription policies it holds.”

With a sigh the admiral looked between them. So even now the squabbling continued. Having learned long ago to abandon any hope of them listening to advice from a military officer, she instead looks to Boann and nods. "Agreed. It does." Still. The pirate in her couldn't keep the tongue silent as she looked at Jezmin. "And maybe others could learn that." Her eyes then sharply peer at Roarke. "After all, dialogue is just a war where nobody has to die."

Boann chuckles and shakes his head, “There is honor in tradition, and stability... But there is room for changes, I admit. Renalta has been a shining example of what modern ideas can do for a nation.” He raises his head and nods as they stop in front of two guards who were looking very tired, near falling asleep on their feet. “Well met. I am High King Boann Hyrill of Tuleria. I am accompanied by Jezmin, Roarke Bezial and Marcela Adrianna Otis. My apologies for being so late, we encountered troubles on the way.”

The keep guards nod, the younger one was already stumbling to stay awake. The older one looked reassuringly at the younger one. "Don't worry, the relief guards are on their way. I think." He then looks at Boann, suddenly remembering that the man in front of him is royalty, while he was just a commoner. "Oh! My... Apologies." He motions them inside. "Mi'lady is surely concerned for your arrival."

Marcela had nothing to add, but dismounted her lizard and patted him on the neck, ushering him towards the stables. "Remember not to eat any horses this time!" She yells after him, before seeing the shocked look in the younger keep guard's eyes. "Ah... Funny story, maybe for another time, soldier."

Boann leans over conspiratorially to ask of Marcela, “Are you sure you need not tell that of some of your troops as well?” He chuckles as he walks, adjusting his weight as he continues through the gates.

Marcela shrugs and moves forward into the keep. Once inside, it was clear that Kouri had been alerted to their arrival, as she stood with Alex by her side and bowed her head briefly. "Welcome to Renalta." She says softly, though with a somewhat weary look to her.

Boann shuffles away from Jezmin, leaning more heavily upon his staff as he makes to make a slight bow in respect. “Queen Kouri. I have heard tales of your beauty. A wonder to find them so true. Thank you for your hospitality, and for your patience. I hope we have not slighted you with our tardiness, but there was no avoiding it as we met with trouble in our crossing the Blood Sea.” His eyes cross back to Alex who was slowly making her cross up behind Kouri, rubbing her eyes with exhaustion and tugging at the sleeves of her dress. He inclines his head to her as well.

"There is no harm done." Kouri says, noticing the limp but making no comment about it. Florence then, without warning, makes his way through the crowd to stand before Boann. "Ah! You have been avoiding me, I think. I have wanted to speak to you, about the Imperium!"

Boann stiffens and averts his attention to Florence. “Ah, so you do. I suppose I might talk to you about this, but do know there is only so much support I might give without the official consent of the other two Triumvirs.”

"Well." He looks at the head of the other two parts the Tulerian envoy. "... Dammit." As his shoulders droop, Marcela crosses her arms behind her back in a military pose. "Don't look so disappointed. I'm sure you can come visit us sometime. When your navy can manage something that doesn't immediately rot away in the blood." Florence looks at her with annoyance before looking back to Boann and bowing humbly. "Please, come see me later. We need speak of such things at some point."

Boann nods his head, “If it suits you, we might discuss such matters now and I will relay it to the other heads of state in our next meeting. There will be much to talk of after this gala ball affair, I am sure, and it will easily fit in.” He flicks a blue-speckled reptilian tongue over his lips as he averts his obsidian eyes back to Kouri. “As of right now, though, I have a request of the Queens of Renalta, seeing how it is already a time of celebration.”

Roarke stiffens his hand tightening about a glass of wine he had procured as his eyes level upon Boann. “What are you planning, King?” he hisses under his breath, beams of light narrowing upon him for a moment even as Boann begins to stride closer to the Queens as best he can manage.

As Florence moves back into the crowd, the Admiral looks at Boann with a suspicious glare of her own. While she wasn't particularly a fan of the chokehold and emphasis on "lizardtry" that Varro Luclin had, any 'plans' kept hidden until now by Boann couldn't be good for the military, and by extension, herself. "What are you doing..." She mutters with discontent as she shifts the weight of her large weapon on her back around a little, nervously.

Kouri on the other hand takes a few steps closer to Boann so as to be only a few feet away and smiles softly. "What can I do for you Boann?"

Boann reaches out his hand, beckoning for Jezmin to join him. He bows his head to Kouri as Jezmin grasps his hand and curtseys before the Queen once more. “Seeing how it is a time of celebration, and see this as no slight to the accomplishments of your Blades, I wished to announce the betrothal of me and my Queen to be, Jezmin of LovoldHold.” He raises his head, a slight smirk playing across his face as his gaze darts briefly to the council mage and admiral. “And as for my request... I wish to be wed here in Renalta, by you and the Queen Alex, if you have no qualms. I have heard pleasant things about these Renaltan weddings and would have one for myself.”

The entire room suddenly goes silent and turns to face Boann. Already the admiral's face lit up like a christmas tree light: Furious and yet at the same time, the salty ex-pirate within her wanted to celebrate the happiness they found in each other. Then, the silence is broken as a woman with a hood starts jumping up and down and cheering. The hood slips back to reveal that it's the spymaster, Mikan. "WOOHOO! Another wedding! Weddings everywhere! I'll get the artist to draw them!" Crown-Prince Xavier shrugs as he looks momentarily at Kouri, then back to Boann. "I hope they wil lbe a happy couple. Well wishes from Liveria." That stated, everyone else started to wish the happy couple well as Kouri nods, agreeing to help the two become married.

Jezmin's uncertain face softens as she leans in and brushes her lips softly against Boann's cheek. His arm goes, draping about her shoulder possessively as he nods his head thankfully to the Queens of Renalta before they meander off to join the ballroom and partake in the revelry and take up word on the events of the world beyond their borders.

Roarke's eyes are thin slits as he glares off after them, hands balled into fists as he seethes at the at the political rug being pulled out from under his feet. He was unamused at twice since leaving Tuleria that things had caught him off his guard. He directs his attention to Marcela, “I think you will have as much fun as I will to Janelle, explaining to Varro the events of this journey. I could only imagine the depths of Varro's rage for the one to bear such tidings. After all, we both know he wishes war with our neighbors to the west.”

Marcela stretches her arms above her head and yawns, staring at the ceiling with mildly unimpressed look in her eyes. "Now -I- will be lucky to avoid blood scraping duty."