Rouen took a sip of the soothing agent out of his flask. "Probably not the best impression to make on the prince," he thought but did so anyway. Then he at Quay.

"You must be quite dedicated your grace. To be up and about practicing your swordplay at such a late time at night," he said.

He shifted his gaze to the prince's weapon.

"Ah the rapier. A middle-class weapon, one used by those not quite wealthy enough to pay another for protection but cultured enough to find value in the beauty of intricacy and simplicity. You wouldn't be intending to introduce a new fashion to court are you your grace?" he smirked then lightly grasped one hanging against the wall.

"Truly remarkable. Like a dagger but with style. Precise, used to direct force upon a single point to force an opening and let your foe's vital essence flow out," he said sliding a finger down the edge.

"There is a saying in the parables, "Man is a vessel of water". Whoever said it forgot to include that we are rather fragile vessels. All it takes is a single prick," he said whipping the rapier forward, the whiplash echoing through the room.

"For the water to flow out and the man to die," he said and put the rapier back on its hangar.

Rouen turned his attention to Quay with a questioning gaze.

"A truth all too forgotten by the powerful, especially those who are young. And that is why in this Kingdom, we exist. Seven knights, paragons of humanity. We guide, protect, and most importantly provide good counsel to those who would one day rule over the realm," he said.

The small clacks of rain against the walls, was all that could be heard in the room.

Rouen bowed lightly. "Forgive the speech. The senility that comes with age has appeared to finally catch up to me," he chuckled.

"But I wonder, for both your safety and by extension the welfare of the kingdom, if you require my counsel. I do not intend to impede in your plans, that is not my decision to make. But you look troubled and I have dealt with trouble for the entirety of my long life. What is that causes you to steal away into the night your grace?" he asked.

The Dark Saint of Weapons; Jaunte Sparda
Dark Lord's Castle; Outside Courtyard

Night had finally come, but yet Jaunte was not sleeping. The dead do not sleep, nor do they have the need to do so. That's what Jaunte missed the most, it wasn't having a heartbeat, it was doing the things that made you feel like you're alive. He didn't have to do any of those things anymore. Jaunte was no longer human and he has grown used to that fact. The Saint looked up into the night sky, and just watched the stars. He felt something hit the top of his head, he reached up and touched the point of impact. It was water that meant that it was going to start raining. Jaunte knew that it was time to return to the keep, and before he knew it the rain was coming down faster than thought.

In the short amount of time that it took the Saint to get inside the castle he became soaked to the bone. Jaunte shook his head back and fourth shaking loose the water that rested in his decaying hair. He decided to make his way to the chambers that were given to him. It was about a five minute walk from the main entrance. The Lord's castle was quite the marvel, Jaunte had never seen anything like it when he was alive. Now that he was dead, Jaunte was indifferent about the vastness of the Castle. He hasn't even explorered most of the castle. He only knows of the areas where he has been with his Master or the other seven. Jaunte finally made it to his chambers and opened the door. He stepped into the room, and left the door open, looking around he examined everything in the room. Jaunte always did that when he entered a room, it was to make sure that it wasn't a trap. Luckily it was not, Jaunte sighed in relief before taking a seat in his chair.

Quay Lionfury
Lightkeep

Quay watched and listened to the Kingsguard with an impassive look on his face. Intruged by that the man was saying, Quay focused on his words. Although most of what the man said we're parables and monographs, some of the man's words got to Quay. They were human, fragile creatures fighting a war against supernatural creatures, some of them were blessed with magical powers, but nothing compared to the monsters that they fought against.

Quay sighed, laughing bitterly at the situation that humans had been thrust into. Some called the non-humans darkness, evil, so what did that make them, light? If he was not mistaken, humans performed more atrocities than the supernatural did. There is a reason why the sang, 'it's just human nature' exists.

"Rouen, do you know why this war started, and why no one has attempted to stop it through peaceful means? Quay asked, placing his free hand in pocket and walking forwards abit, glancing at the ceiling.

"Hundreds of years of wae, we will soon approach a millennium of war, and yet, nothing." Quay said exasperatedly, laughing bitterly at the situation that they were in.

"My father, despite actively trying to stop this war, nothing has ended. We send thousands of men to the front lines, ripping them away from their families, only to gain a few miles on the enemy before facing a new monstrosity." Quay began to pace back and forth, both his hand cupped his back as if he had been arrested.

"I don't want my rule to end up the same way if my father fails to end this war. Do we even, know why they rebelled against us?

Quay sighed, raking his hand through his hair. "Tomorrow I will head to the battle field in place of my father, meet the generals, and lead are armies. I'm not afraid to lead, nor am I afraid of the fight, I fear what will happen if we fail. If the plan I want to execute fails, what happens to the kingdom. Quay chuckled bitterly.

"I apologize for throughing my anxieties upon you, my fears are unfounded and based on dream. Well, that is your answer, this is what is keeping me up. Quay said taking a deep breath, boys his age were running around with woman or studying for a profession, yet he was thinking about the kingdom and the war he was going to fight. Funny.

Rouen brushed his grizzled chin with his thumb thoughtfully at the prince's response.

"So in one fell stroke, you intend to end this war and bring peace to the kingdom? A bold statement you have made and an even bolder plan I dare say your grace," he replied.

Rouen spoke, with a rising enthusiasm,"I understand the fear you have for the well-being of this nation. However, I caution restraint. Your will is rare among the nobles, let alone royalty, but pardon me for stating the fact. You are a young man your grace, and young men aren't fully aware of the repercussions of their actions."

"When you arrive at the front lines how do you intend to levy the generals to obey you? I know they have standing orders from your father, the king, to maintain the line. And if so how do you intend to accomplish this peace? Demons are among their ranks but they are bolstered by traitors. Some are fallen men, prodigies of talented dynasties. Alastor of the Daevites being the prime example, a man who can shroud vision, rendering his foes blind. Others are raised against their will but are even more dangerous. The soulless Outlander among them can fight with unlimited endurance. Jaunt, known in life as the grandmaster of all weapons, now serves their cause. Finally there is the first of the fallen, one who even I know little about."

He looked out into an open slit in the wall. Rain was pouring outside. "What shall happen if you fail your grace? Could you imagine the chaos that would rise when the Kingdom loses its heir? What will happen to the King? Stubborn man he may be, but do you know what you will do to him with your death?

"The greatest we can muster have fought the enemy for centuries, yet they have failed to make gains. All we've managed is to slow their advance. If I may ask. What plan do you have to put an end to this war? A war the brightest of the last fifty generations have tried and failed at?"

Hero Sura & Spoony
Lightkeep

Hero grinned a little as Spoony became slime and slipped from his grasp. He was sure he'd never fully understand her form, but it seemed to him being a slime was pretty cool. His smile continued as she told him that he had now owed her her favorite dish, sweet rolls, for a week. He was a bit saddened that his friend didn't want something a bit more challenging from one of the best chefs around, but he wasn't going to complain about it or anything.

The comment about his flames intrigued him. A sword forged from his magical flames? If he could get his flames hot enough, than there was no telling what would happen with the sword. His flames had not burned him, so clearly they were magical in some way. "Hm. Not a bad idea." He said, voicing his interest into the idea. He wondered what kind of blade she would make with his flames. He hoped for his sake she'd start out with something small, like a dagger or a short sword. "I guess that'll count as part of my repayment too, seeing as how Sweet Rolls, even for a week, aren't particularly hard to make. How about I bring them to you during your lunch break?" He offered.

Spoony smiled as he said he accepted to trying it. "That's wonderful! I've been working on a sort of furnace that should help to make the flame's even hotter once their concentrated." Spoony replied as she motioned to a far smaller forge, it was made out of stone and only had room for a few coals at the bottom.

"I was planning on trying a piece of armor first and then a dagger. I wanna see if it's better for defence of attack." Spoony added as she looked over at the forge. It was quite hard for her to make but she believe that she did a good job. "Anyway's I'll finish the Knork of Power for you tomorrow, I should really get some sleep." Spoony said as she put the Knork back into the corner. Unless Hero spoke up it would keep the horrible name.

"Yeah, that may be a good idea." Hero said, stretching out and yawning. "I shall retire to my quarters as well. See you tomorrow." And with a wave, Hero left the workshop, and made his way to his room, where he slept peacefully.

Spoony waved to him as she went off to her own quarters. After locking her doors multiple times and her windows she changed into her full slime form. Keeping it up all the time would prevent her from sleeping anyways. She had what seemed to be a large bathing bucket in her room next to her bed which she rarely used. She went into the bucket before turning into a puddle of slime in it and went to sleep.

@Neko Sensei


Dark Lord's Castle

Lucifer did not become aware of his master's presence until one of his dogs started licking his face. He tried to push it off, but it's partner started joining in and Lucifer didn't want to use both his hands in case he accidentally impaled one of the poor beasts on his hidden blade. So he just kind of sat there and took it, silently praying they would stop.
Lucifer had never been a fan of dogs. He never really trusted them, since he didn't know what they were thinking. Any creature that could switch from playful to chewing your throat out at the drop of a hat was not something he cared to spend much time with. But Alastor insisted on keeping these two mutts around. It was an issue he had kept schtum about, since the Dark Lord would inevitably side with the hounds. And because he wasn't asserting dominance over the beasts, they saw him as a plaything. Oh, sure, they never actually hurt him, not yet anyway. But every time one of those two big bloody brutes bounded into the room, Lucifer felt his heart stop. Lance had a three-headed puppy as well. Must be a dark magic thing.

The unwanted face-washing didn't last too long, however, and the hounds retreated behind the legs of their master. Lucifer crawled to his feet as he tried to wipe the drool off his face, trying and failing to hide both disgust and shame.

"My apologies, sir" Lucifer began, attempting to mollify without seeming sycophantic. "I got slightly lost..."

The boy took the Lord's hand, unable to look him in the eye. He felt suitable chastised for his error and didn't want to cause things to worsen. Even if he wasn't saying anything, he could feel Alastor's disapproval.

"My pride, sir, dropped alongside my body temperature." It was said jovially, but he was only half-joking "For a moment there, I genuinely expected to be sleeping on the floor tonight. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

It would be best, he thought, if he was to explain exactly why he was there in the first place. The last thing he wanted was for the Dark Lord to think he was a traitor and when one is discovered lying just outside the lord of the castle's study - well, intentions are easily misconstrued.

"I was trying to clear my head, sir. One of the Badlanders sent me a rather... disturbing message. And it got me thinking - how are we meant to win this war without causing nothing but destruction and desolation? We get very little support from the average commoner and it seems the only hold we have is coercion and money. No-one wants to join us because they think our cause is just. All our men are either violent, mercantile or just plain crazy. And maybe that's the reason that we haven't been making as many waves as we should. So I thought, if we reach out to the people who already don't like King Lionfury, show the commoners that we aren't as bad as Trance's propaganda makes us out to be, maybe we can get that much needed support and be able to push into Trance proper."

At this, he shrugged unhappily and muttered "But then again, you've probably already got plans. I don't mean to impose, I just thought it might be something to consider.

Valorian Lionfury
Lightkeep

Valorian wasn't surprised at all when Vauch dropped to one knee. In fact, he would have been somewhat surprised if he didn't. There were only a hadful of people in the entire kingdom that had earned or had been born with the right to talk to him as an equal directly, even though even they would call him 'your grace' or 'majesty', not even his wife had been exempt of that rule. Someone as young and new as Cleo therefore had no right to presume to do any differently and behaved accordingly. Thankfully, Valorian didn't let him remain on the ground for long, stretching out his hand and flexing his fingers, gesturing for him that it was alright to rise so the king could look him in the eyes.

"Yes sir! Everything is quiet in the halls, and the responsibilities and duties give me the great opportunity to better myself and my skill."

He gave a single nod in acknowledgement. His question had been an obvious one, but the last thing he could use was a Kingsguard who'd forsake his duties and be inattentive on the job or someone who couldn't give a clear answer. If something had truly been amiss, there would have been a good chance he himself would have detected it by now, yet he knew that he had to rely on the skills of others as well to rule his nation. No war had ever been fought or won by a single person.

He took a moment to study Vauch closer. Most often he was a good judge of character, but he felt that he was missing something to get a good read on the new Kingsguard member. What he did manage to deduce from what he had heard and seen earlier however, was that Vauch was aching to get into action. Possibly that would change when he really did experience the horrors that a true battle had in store for him. Either way, he probably didn't have to wait much longer. If the reports were true, incursions of the enemy had increased lately, and much like himself, they were preparing fr a more major movement.

"May I ask, my king, what you are doing up? Its quite late, and a person like you should get your rest, correct?"

He smiled weakly before answering:
"A person such as myself knows no rest, sir Vauch. Every moment is filled with how to best solve the issues at hand at a time like this."
After that, he frowned a little. Perhaps he was a little too tired. Normally he wouldn't allow himself to say such a personal thing.
"Rest yourself when you can as well, sir Vauch. You'd best be ready when the storm comes."
With that, the king turned around, marching off without another word or look, back to his chambers in hopes of getting at least another few hours of sleep in.

Dark Lord's Castle

Zenith had been standing as he had since before the rain began to fall, trying to locate anyone of importance near their boarders and found little with the humans sleeping through the night. He turned his gaze from Jaquen, finding no amusement in the mortals torment as he may have to be the one to go find them after their flesh ceases to function from his constant torment. The necromancer was a bit of an idiot at times, but he was the most powerful necromancer they had been able to find when they had been in need of a man to create their armies; Zenith had gladly slaughtered whole villages of humans to begin the creation of the legions that would win his master the throne he so deserved after thousands of years of mistreatment of the demons kind. As he turned to move from his spot he hear the fear of a deer, far into the spine and looked off toward it, focusing in so he could see the young man crouching behind his fine ebony bow with the deer held in his sights. He was a fine hunter, a half demon from the appearance of him and he made note to keep watch on this one; he would be useful if convinced to join them.

The death demon turned from his spire, shifting his weight until he tilted over and tell from the point of the castle, his wings held close to his body while the ground ruched up to meet him. About half way down he spread his wings and slowed his descent though when he came to a stop standing on the balcony outside his room, just two rooms down from his masters study and not too far from Alastor's bedroom, situated in the perfect spot be be able to rush to the mans side if he was in need of him. He opened the room and walked into the room, the bed made and rarely used as he had not real need for sleep when he went into his trances and meditations to watch the world and rest his body; the rain and wind rushed in with him, soaking a good amount of the floor before he closed to room and started pulling off his clothes to throw them in the corner by the balcony door again. He didn't hear the distress until he was drying off his hair with a soft black towel left in his bedroom by one of the many lower demon maids that seemed to have taken a liking to him, and flung the door open to rush into the hallway to see Alastor helping a small and obviously terrified Lucifer off the stone flooring.

Is everything well Master?

The tengu stood, dripping water on the stone floor where he stood, barefoot and bare chested with a towel over his shoulder. His wings were curled against his back, but the feathers were visible from where the the tips crossed behind him and settled, one feather falling to the ground. He did not show how alarmed he had been, though his gaze traveled over the child halfway off the floor and rose again to look his master in the eyes. He was the First of the Seven sworn to his service and yet he would still look the man in the eyes without challenging him like others would. His hair was plastered to his neck and face, water dripping from it down his chest and the towel over his shoulder covered the name branded into one side of his chest. The man was well aware that the boy that which held his masters hand and spoke to him was al to human for them to tolerate, though the demon that resided inside him, Empusa, could have made a suitable ally for a time if she had not allowed such a foolish child to remain in control of his own body. He didn't trust Lucifer, and he doubted he ever would.

---

RedKeep

The man stood not far from the indoor arena that the Prince was training with one of the men, with his longsword at his hip where he could easily reach it if he needed to. He crossed his arms on his chest, watching the two silently from where he stood in his gold and white Kingsguard armor, protected and silently observing for a time while the two were completely oblivious to his presence watching them. The half demon had known the boy his entire life, his parents before him and his grandparents when they were still young enough to wield their own weapons. Dark eyes followed their movements from where he stood, right up until the boy admit that he was planning to leave the keep.

"I'm sorry to inform you Prince, that no one will be returning to the front lines tomorrow." The male stepped forward, his dark eyes reflecting a green light for a moment before he appeared entirely human again while walking toward him. He didn't appear the half demon that everyone knew he was, but he did appear all the leader that he was meant to and any who cared to listen or look at him would soon realize why the people of the Capitol had not captured and killed him already for being a half demon. Sir Jaime had recently returned from the latest battle, not too far from their lower border, having pulled it to a draw instead of a total loss for them by taking on the legions single handedly while his troops were able to regroup and defend their positions again. They would need more men, or better training, but what they didn't need was a boy pretending to be a man to come and interfere with the chain of command. As he walked into the light of the torches throughout the room a boom of thunder outside followed a bolt of lightning that illuminated the spires outside before he had come to a full halt not too far from them.

He wore no helmet, and his armor was not large and bulky like other past knights and those today, though he wore no gauntlets either with his hardened leather gloves and calloused palms that were scarred from years of catching blades in his hands. Blood spattered the steel and iron suit, a wound fading on his face while black hair fell over his eyes. He flicked it back and continued looking at them. "Not unless you really want to die Prince. In which case I'll happily show you what my men are fighting out on the fields away from here, what many boy-kings and foolish heroes have die to before." He was blunt, though the smirk that graced his lips told of how little he really cared about the boy, even after being there when he was birthed and guarding his mother while she was pregnant with the princess. He was just a boy, one who would not learn or lead if he was dead and Valrian had no time to produce another son if he died.

Dark Lord's castle

Such polite words. That boy surely had some diplomacy. Not that Alastor knew Lucifer too well yet, but a gracious reply wasn't something he could expect from most of the brutes who formed his army. He could feel that the boy was trying to avoid making any more mistakes, but still dared to lecture his master on strategic affairs. How insolent... And still, the Lord liked that slight boldness in him. He could feel his lips curling into a hint of a smile.

"I understand." He simply said while he helped him to stand up, accepting his apology. "And I'm willing to discuss this matter with you if that can help you clearing your doubts." He gestured towards his study, still warm with the heat of the fireplace. Actually, he would have welcome any other of his seven advisors, but it seemed that none of them had any interest in planning their next actions at this hour of the night. "I'd be grateful if you decided to let me see that message, though it's up to you showing me your personal correspondence. But keep in mind that, if we were to convince those people to join our cause, I'll need someone to negotiate with them, and not many of my men inspire confidence. Would you be prepared if I decided to entrust you that task? Because I won't allow any mistakes."

He could have kept talking to the boy, but right then an unexpected visitor appeared. Zenith, Alastor's third dog. And it seemed that this one couldn't really get too far from his master without feeling some kind of anxiety. He was useful indeed, but that fixation of his of being all the time around him sometimes made Alastor slightly uncomfortable.

"Is everything well Master?"

The master released Lucifer's hand and turned to stare at the newcomer. The water droplets that were falling from his hair had started to form a small puddle on the floor, and the ones who still lingered on his skin only seemed to add to his already disheveled appearance a hint of sloppiness. It made Alastor frown visibly. And no, he didn't bother to reply to his question, as it should be obvious by now that everything was, indeed, well enough. "Zenith, is that the proper way to show yourself before your Master?" He simply turned around, though his dogs, on the contrary, approached Zenith wagging their tails happily to greet him. "You better clean that floor before it gets dirtier." The man started walking towards his study again. "And, by the way, bring Lucifer a blanket. Humans can't stand the cold the way you do." And with that, he simply entered the room and sat on a sofa, finishing his short conversation with his loyal servant.

Dark Saint of the Weapons; Jaunte Sparda

Jaunte had finally dried off, and know he decided to find out where the others were hiding. After placing his weapons in their respective mounts, he set off from his quarters to find the others. Jaunte wondered the castle, taking in the scenery as he made his way to his Master's study. At this time of night, that is where he would find the Dark Lord Alastor. Where the Dark Lord was Zenith the first of the Seven would be. There was once a time where Jaunte would stand against this group, but that was a long time ago. Jaunte was now the thing he vowed to destroy. How ironic was it? Once Jaunte was a figure of great importance, a hero of men. The Saint of Weapons, both feared and revered. Now he would see the rule of men end and the rise of the Dark Lord. A goal that he would give his life for.

After a short walk, he was almost to the study. Jaunte arrived just as Alastor was telling Zenith to clean the floors. The Saint chuckled as he heard the loyal severant being told to clean the floor. It was quite funny to him, Jaunte walked into the door way and glanced around. In the study was Lucifer the human, the Dark Lord himself, and the first, Zenith. Jaunte didn't exactly trust Lucifer due to the fact that he was human, but if the Master trusted him, then Jaunte would have to suffer him. Jaunte bowed before speaking, giving his due respect. "Milord, how are you this evening?" Jaunte asked still maintaining his bow.

Dark Lord's Castle

Out of all the people in all the castle, Lucifer was the one who was taken least seriously and treated with most distrust. In fairness, when everyone was either a grizzled half-demon mercenary whose only qualms were who to chop up next and with what instrument or a voluptuous succubus maid-stroke-tart, being a bright eyed, pretty-faced, all-too-human monk with a firmly anti-slaughter stance meant he hardly blended into his surroundings. Amongst these people, he fit in about as well as a piece of glass in the urinary tract.

"Thank you, sir. It would certainly help me sleep easier" Lucifer said gratefully, more glad of the light of the fireplace than the heat. He hoped his Master would be kind enough to have a maid escort him back to his room when they were done here, or else he would end up wandering the castle in the dark - actually, scratch that, most maids were a demon of some form or another and he wasn't quite willing to put himself totally at their mercy.

"Look at you! I didn't know you had a silver tongue!

One of my many talents, it would seem...

"With diplomacy like yours, you could probably sweet-talk your way into the Princess' bedchambers... and pacify her father in the morning."

I wouldn't go that far

He took a deep breath and was about to start talking when an aged warrior opened the door and greeted the Lord of the castle. He barely gave Lucifer a second glance. And indeed, why should he? This man was the Saint of Weapons, the Second of the Seven. And it didn't take a genius to work out that, like everyone else in this godsforsaken castle, he didn't trust Lucifer as far as he could throw him.

"Evening, Jaunte." Lucifer was able to keep the annoyance out of his tone - just. He was sick of being looked down upon. Would it kill for someone to treat him as an equal? So far, the only person conducting himself with a modicum of politeness was Alastor himself.

"Pah! What a sycophant! Look your master in the eyes when you talk to him, you geriatric undead knob!"

Not for the first time, Lucifer was glad he was the only one who could hear Empusa, though he had suspicions that Zenith could also pick up on her voice.
Moving swiftly on, the Holy Child decided to address his most pressing matter. "If I may be so bold, sir. Wars are fought with weapons, but they are won by men. To me, it is important that the soldiers look up to the general. They must see him as a righteous and just figure, a father to his men. If they do that, they shall follow him to the depths of Pandemonium and back without hesitation"

"However, most of our lads don't see you as that" Lucifer was treading thin ice here, but he was too honest to lie about such important issues. "To them, you are a source of money and power. They are mercenaries, employed purely for the prospect of petty personal gain, with no consideration to the bigger picture. An army made up of mercenaries is one of the worst, for they are weak-willed and easily persuaded to double-cross if there is profit to be made. We need a retinue of people who are willing to fight for us, not our gold, our power or our whores." He was thinking of Blake and Lance here, but he still cast a look at Jaunte for good measure.

"Look at Zenith. What are the odds he'd ever betray us? None. Because he serves you, not your treasury or your wine cellars. If we had an army of people like that, we would surely be victorious. We have better weapons, better armour - bar, of course, the things that the Royal Blacksmith makes, but as good as she is, she's just one girl - more powerful monsters and we know what the enemy is doing without them having the same advantage over us. But even amongst the people who despise Sir Lionfury, they see us as another tyrannical overlord. It's Grey and Gray, if you get my meaning. They don't see us as worthy of fighting for."

"Which brings me neatly to the letter. I'm afraid I don't have it on me, but I can paraphrase for you - Khosh has been keeping close correspondence with a local in the Town of Krowsgard. All seemed to be going well, until a few weeks ago. Things started happening - locals girls would go missing, large groups of people moving about during the night, that kind of thing - and this caught the local's attention. They did a bit of research and... and..."

Lucifer stopped momentarily and took a deep breath. He didn't want to say this next line, partly because it was horrible to think of such things and partly because he feared the Dark Lord's and Jaunte's reactions.

"It seems a group of slave traders have set up shop in Krowsgard. They've been kidnapping young girls and selling them as... concubines, shall we say? Everyone knows this is happening, but they don't know who is doing it, where it happens or how to stop it. Except our local. They sent a letter to Khosh informing them of the situation, who has sent one to me. With your permission, I would like to go with Khosh to Krowsgard and eliminate the slave-traders. I'm thinking, if we leave a few hints that it was one of your vassals that did it, not only will that earn us the respect of the locals for freeing them of these foul men, but it will also strike fear into Lionfury's supporters. How did they know what we didn't? How did they get so far into Trance without anyone noticing? You know, that kind of thing. Add a bit of paranoia into the mix and instil a bit of chaos, as well as recruit local men who would actually want to serve us, not our wallet."

He felt like taking a bow, or saying "ta-da". But instead, Lucifer listened politely to hear what Alastor had to say about his plan and hoped that he would agree with him. Krowsgard was not that far away from Lightkeep - if they had a base of operations there, they could keep an eye on the King and Capital with much more ease.

Shep Lupus
Forest of the Stars - Camp 'Full Moon'

"Shep. Get up."

Shep groaned in annnoyance as he was called into the wolrd of the waking. He had been the one to call the meeting at this time... but screw his past self. He closed his eyes and rolled over, before his subordinate kicked him to get him up. "You're the one that told me to wake you up, Shep."

Shep once again let a disgruntled moan escape him as he pulled the tarp off himself and got off his bed of straw. "Ugh. don't damage my sleeping area; I'm gettin' up." He mumbled. He stood up and stretched out to ease his joints back into walking and the such. He yawned and smacked his lips while pulling on both of his shirts so he wouldn't get sick from the probably quite cold rain he could hear rapping against his tent.

Once he made his way out of his tent, his suspicions were confirmed. The rain was, combined with the howling winds, incredibly cold. He shuddered in his clothes, now in the process of being soaked, and tried to make his way to the "Tent O' War" as he called it. It was where most strategics and council meetings went on. Probably because it was the only tent that had a table and chairs in it that someone wasn't living in.

He pushed the tent door back and entered. He was greeted by his four loyal friends, the council. He made them at ease with a grin and a nod, and they all gave him there own little version of the silent hello. He sat in the large throne-like chair in the center, and officially called the meeting to order. He just had to confirm some things before he left.

"All right, so, Karin, I'm making my way to Krowsgard?"

"Right, sir." She said, adjusting her collar and giving him that blank, oh so serious look.

"To take down Jerman the Slaver, with Sard?"

"Yeah, just him should be fine. I have a feeling something's gonna happen soon, so we should keep as many troops as we can close to camp." Rokal explained. He thought he could do it alone, personally, but Rokal said 'bring Sard, you big lug', so he did.

"My weapons are all in order?"

"Should be. I did extensively look them over and have our blacksmith re-sharpen your blade twice. But, I mean, if you wanna check again-"

"I got it, Garth. Don't get ya pantaloons in a bind." He disliked how much of a sarcastic dolt Garth could be, but he made cool things, so Shep let it slide.

"I believe that's that, Lupus." Sard said. Shep wasn't sure why Sard had such intense loyalty to his bloodline, but even if they didn't always agree on the way of things, Sard accepted Shep as the rightful Prince of Bandits, and had his back.

"Alright then. Me an' Sard shall get going." Shep announced. With that, everyone went their separate ways, with the exception of Sard, who followed Shep. The two of them proceeded to the Armory tent to grab their weapons. The blacksmith himself handed Shep his weapons; The blade, the buckler, the crossbow, and the hammer. Sard grabbed himself two gauntlets, a dagger, and a few throwing knives.

"Yer all setup n' the such, Lupus?" Sard asked. Shep nodded, and they got themselves two traveler horses.

"Hope this rain stops soon..." Shep complained. He didn't want to spend the journey getting soaked. But, he sucked it up, and left for Krowsgard with his faithful guardian.

His eyes immediately turned towards the newcomer. Rouen knew who it was from hearing the youthful yet familiar tone of his voice. The red-gold armor that he wore identified him as one of the Kingsguard.

"And not just any member," Rouen thought

"Ser Jaime Elayne," he said to one of the oldest members of the Kingsguard and one of the few men he respected enough to give more than the passing greeting.

"Your entrances are as dramatic as ever. Did you learn something on theatrics from the acting troupe last week?" he chuckled.

Jaime's youthful face bore a distinction to his gaunt and aged face, though both would be an extreme contrast to a human of their equivalent age. Rouen almost considered them kindred in nature. Halflings born into a time of human history that discarded and depicted their kind as equivalent to demons. They had lived decades beyond the normal human lifespan, and lived through the rule of three different kings.

That however, was when the similarities ended.

He was familiar with the rumors of Jaime's roots. Born out of the forced union between woman and beast. A union of hatred entangled with lust. Found by King Lucian and raised well enough in arts to become the finest knight in the Kingdom, both in skill on the battlefield and manner in the court. Defender of duty and title and honor and integrity. A stylish and charming ladiesman in court. Culminating in the fact that he had reached that peak of youthful maturity yet never giving away to the decay of old age.

Rouen himself on the other hand was born into a long dynasty of nobility ruling over the islands known as the Stormlands. A dynasty that embraced its human and inhuman roots with equal pride. He remembered having a happy childhood surrounded in aristocratic splendor and a loving yet stern family. He had always been bookish and quiet, showing disregard for the troubles of the outside world. At least until he was forced from home, out of noble tradition, upon the day of his maturity.

And so after a short voyage and a series of unfortunate events he became a Kingsguard. And what a Kingsguard he was. His reserved nature made him prefer more discreet methods of solving issues and threats over the flashy shows of power and strength preferred by Jaime and the others. He gained a knack for undercover work, depending more on investigation and wit versus might and force. Subtlety and subterfuge became his weapon of choice. A choice that allowed him to tame the capital's criminal underworld in a year. And in the year following he founded the society of Veiled Men. His entourage of personal informants, spies, and covert operatives throughout the Kingdom.

Such actions hardly made him a good impression on court. He gained a shadowy and seemingly dark reputation that grew out of how things seemed to play out in threats that he was tasked with dealing. Missing people, strange suicides, a sudden uncovering of vicious secrets that ruined the reputation of a Duke who was threatening the Kingdom. The cloud of secrecy and fear drew away courtiers and aristocrats like repellent did to insects. Eventually they outright ignored him. He became part of the courtly background like an unpleasant decoration that one simply accepted as being.

"I prefer it that way," Rouen had thought, with a hint of spite. Courtly life only got in the way of work after all. Let Jaime and others play the game of appearances and earn the favor of noble ladies and men alike.

And now after years had passed, that same spite gave way to humor. How ironic Rouen thought, that Jaime, a half-demon born out of a common woman, had become the paragon of the greatest knights of the realm while he, a halfling, yet of a noble dynasty and powerful family, was largely shunned by the same aristocracy and had an unpleasantly sour relationship with the current King.

He drank from his flask, taking a larger gulp than usual. A flush of numbness ran through him.

"I am guessing the battle went well," Rouen stated matter of factly with a smile looking at the streaks of dried blood on Jaime's gold-red armor.

"And I take this as my cue to leave. I shall see you in the morrow Ser Clayne. I am sure the King will be most interested to hear of how the skirmish went. He will want all of us present in celebration of the Kingdom's great victory. Much-needed in my humble opinion. It has been too long since we have all been together at once, I shall relish seeing the old faces," he said with drops of sarcasm on the words "king" and "victory".

"Have a good night your grace," he said bowing towards the prince. "Remember my words, one should always heed the advice of his counselors. It marks the difference between one who merely hears and one who listens, and we are in dangerous need of men who can listen."

Rouen turned towards the doorway and walked toward the long hallway. At the end awaited he knew that his room awaited him, with a stack of parcels on his desk. Filled with words of events that had gone. Words that would have to be read and left to linger on in preparation for future plans and plots.

Dark Lord's Castle

Alastor listened patiently to the boy, at first with genuine curiosity and later with a bit of well concealed disinterest, since many of the things he said happened to be some facts of which he was well aware. Still, if his vassal was being polite, his master wouldn't interrupt his speech. And he had to admit that he was quite impressed that Lucifer had some trustworthy connections among the commoners. Until now, he was the only one who could at least bring him any news at all. Though that little piece of information came wrapped in a rather harsh critique. But luckily for him, his master was too cold to let such a small thing hurt his pride. Maybe some other man could have felt offended by his words but not Alastor, who had realized those same mistakes long ago. Though, how was this human kid going to change the opinion that people had of him and his men after so long since the start of the war? Their views of them wouldn't change just because they happened to save a few damsels in distress.

"You're very eloquent, there's no doubt about that." He said crossing his legs and leaning backwards comfortably, as he realized that the matter at hand wasn't something as serious as he had initially thought. "You could have been a good merchant. You know how to convince others to accept your offer. I'm fairly tempted to embark myself on this quest that will so definitely bring me prestige, soldiers and gratitude..." Alastor chuckled. "... But my experience tells me that a small business like this will only bring us trouble and there won't be a reward." He stopped looking at Lucifer for a moment to acknowledge Jaunte's presence in the room with a light nod without interrupting his conversation. "Though I don't mind accepting it as a personal favor to you and your friend."

Alastor stayed silent for a moment, then got up from his seat and went towards a table with several maps spread on it to study the placement of said troublesome town. It was indeed near the capital of Trance and it seemed one of these places all too human for his taste. It was no wonder that his young vassal favored it. But for Alastor it seemed as an unnecessary risk.

"But you have to accept my conditions."

Alastor wasn't going to let anybody roam free in a potentially dangerous situation. And not because he feared for Lucifer's life, even if that was something he wouldn't want to lose. No, there were other things to consider. Like the fact that he was sending his human servant to a human city where he could easily find distractions that might convince him to leave his side.

"Jaunte and Lance will accompany you. They will protect you if you ever need it, and they'll also provide me with a report of your actions." It wasn't mistrust what he felt, but one could never be cautious enough. "If you succeed, I'll give you a suitable reward." The man then proceeded to leave the room, but as he passed next to Jaunte he put his hand on his shoulder and gestured towards Lucifer. "If he does something funny, don't hesitate in killing him."

Quay Lionfury
Lightkeep

Before Rouen could give Quay any advice on dealing with the matter at hand, Jaime walked out of the shadows. It seemed that Jaime had a habit of doing that, watching people from the corner, it was unnerving. None the less Quay remained deadpan, watching as the Kingsguard began to speak.

Quay couldn't help but find Jamie's word slightly ironic. "Funny how you worry about me, yet my father, who is 52, regularly walks the battle field." Quay said with a slight chuckle.

"I my not be my father, nor my I be half Demon, but I am more than capable of holding my own, and arrangements have been made, if anything out of place is to happen, everything will be canceled." Quay said slowly walking away from the two Kingsguard.

Quay was surprised to hear the words that Rouen spoke, although he was a Kingsguard, the man could be described as rugged. It surprised him to be speaking in such a way to Jamie, he was a man not to be messed with.

"Worry not Rouen, I will heed you council, thank you." Quay replied to Rouen, watching him as he walked away.

"You should rest, after just getting back from the battle field, no doubt you will need it." Quay said glancing at Jamie before walking away silently. Quay looked down at his sword, maybe he was ready to go to bed. Quay sighed, cursed his indecisiveness under his breath, and started heading to his room, it Jamie wanted to speak about the matter more, the Kingsguard knew were to find him.

.

.

Within the confines of the castle upon the mountain cliff, as the afternoon sun hid behind the light clouds after the night's rain, the Dark Lord himself and his trusted Seven gathered around a large table to speak of their plans. One, wished for them to find support in the human population of Ellyria though they all knew that it was the humans hatred of the inhuman that had begun the conflict. Another was silent, speaking only within the safe confines of his masters mind while the others breathed their opinions, some loud and others soft. They were not humans as it was, and few of them cared to be humane to end the means of this long war. A few of them had been alive since it's very start, others born long after, but few remembered what it was like to be at peace and none knew the feeling of acceptance from humans. A map was spread out over the large table, held to the corners by knives since the wood itself was old and had been used for roughly a hundred years to hold this map in place. The positions of their armies were marked by small black skulls, with a red one marking the place where Jaquen currently stood, the ruins of a village that existed near the boarder three nights before. Sunlight filtered through the clouds through the windows to dance upon the floor, and the remainder of the room was lit with candles while a fire in the hearth kept the room warm while autumn and winter began to sneak up on them. It would be another long winter, and a place where humans would welcome all help. Perhaps the bow had a point after all, though one would sooner kill the boy than allow his master to entertain mortals.

---

A battle won was a small victory in a very long war, but with as few casualties as their had been the king felt proper to celebrate and raise the moral of those who sat within the capitol. The visiting nobles would feast and dance, enjoying life while the Kingsguard kept them safe and the princes continued to court and flirt with the young ladies of the court. The Princess would allow her father believe her helpless, though the few who knew would keep the secret of the fey-touched girl while staying at court, lest they befall an unforunate accident upon the road home from the capitol. The space outside overlooked the deep blue ocean where sunlight sparkled on the surface and the sun shone brilliantly in the sky. If one looked from the highest tower of LightKeep they would be able to see the clouds hanging still in the sky, far toward the mountains though one would only be able to see the peeks if they looked closely. It was a long march from here to the boarder, and further still to the place where great evil rested and few dared to make the journey, much less as many times as Ser Jaime has.

Cleo Vauch
Lightkeep

The Kingsguard Cleo watched the party go on, hearing about the small victory they had acquired. It pleased him to hear about it, but pissed him off that he had to WATCH the party instead of being APART of the party. The man blew a piece of his dark hair out of his face as he watched. He flirted a bit with the guys, making sure no one knew. It was a talent of his; flirting but making it seem like small talk. It fit right under 'lying' which he did quite alot of in his days as a thief.
Seeing as though nothing was happening and seeing as though no one was watching him, the young man started to sneak away, off to find something better to do-- like finding a bottle of fine wine and drinking it contently. There were surely enough guards there to keep any rowdy guests away from the really important people, he thought. So, the boy sneaked out, trying to be as stealthy as possible.

"Now, now. It is unbecoming of a member of the Kingsguard to shirk his duty on a whim," Rouen called out to Cleo.

He was walking down the corridor to the feasting chambers when he caught sight of the young Kingsguard's figure.

He wore a brown and blue garb which was at the very limit of acceptable fashion for any member of the upper nobility. His brown hair was straight and his chin was clean-shaven. He actually took the time to groom himself in the morning for the day's festivities.

There was a tired expression on his face. When the rain departed last night it left him depleted.

Rouen took another sip from his flask. The numbing agent and fruit-alcohol worked its way through him.

He looked at the young man in front of him. The newest member of the Kingsguard. Someone who was very clearly skilled at what he did. Someone who had not climbed but shot through the social ladder. Someone who in Rouen's opinion needed to have some lessons beat into his skull.

"Cleo Vauch, know that being a Kingsguard Knight means that you are expected to behave as your title states. However, if you continue to behave like a street urchin then know that you will continue to be treated like one. Do you understand boy?" he said.