It was the sixth time in a week. The visions from the moon had been coming to Sariel like nightmares, wrenching him from his sleep with vague visions of impending doom from an encroaching darkness. He stood at the edge of the top of the tallest tower of Castle Clandstein looking out over the horizon at the rising sun with with a slight breeze blowing through his translucent, moonlight wings. Yellow orange light was banishing the last vestiges of the darkness across the sky. He wore his old travelling outfit from when he left home to adventure in the countryside. It was no longer the greatest fit, but it was better than the trousers he normally slept in. Especially as earlier the king had gone around to all the guard posts along the castle walls.

Today was going to be a big day though. At least Sariel hoped it would be. All of his top military officials, his eldest son, the Kingsguard and he were to meet in just a few hours about how to best prepare the kingdom. Of course from what they needed protection Sariel still did not know. Presumably then the result of such a meeting would be to organize the military to best respond to anything. Maybe he'd just get laughed out of the meeting room on the basis that he's spouting nonsense from some delusion.

Sariel spread his moonlight crafted wings and hopped off the ledge. With air rushing past his face Sariel flapped a few times to slow himself before he smashed into a balcony bellow. Slowing his decent to a crawl the king gently touched down to the balcony outside of his royal bedroom. The bedroom itself was of white walls, with golden trimmings. The moldings along the bottom of the walls were decorated with the phases of the moon in gold while the top pictured the sun and cloud formations. The bed was open to the rest of the room, but with the sheets and blankets a mess from Sariel's early and distressed rising. Along the walls were brilliant tapestries, bookcases, wardrobes, two desks and a small table with two chairs.

"Its going to be a busy day Luci'" the king said moonlight wings vanishing into thin air. I'll go wake the kids if none of the maids have gotten around to it." He tossed his old traveling clothes onto the floor and flung open one of the wardrobes looking for something more presentable and kingly. He eventually settled on a black and silver officer's uniform with a flowing black, fur cape before going out the door. He skipped out the doorway, betraying his actual energy level. Coming upon each child's door in turn from oldest to youngest he knocked and shouted "Alistair!, it's going to be an important day, I'm going to need you in there. Rida! you had better not skip your lessons today. its very important! Lethonel! I know you probably stayed up all night reading, but I need you to take care of something for me today!. He ended his movement outside his youngest's door in hopes to talk to at least a few of his children and convince them of a family meal.

@Cultural titan



"I think you and I both know, father that I would already be awake for an important day such as this..." Alistair spoke from down the hall a little annoyed as he approached, his voice carrying itself via an echo, fully dressed and already in his proper armor, to look both respectful and prepared, whilst he slowly rubbed a hand against his ears as if to say his father was "Too loud" though, he only meant this in jest.

Alistair stopped a meter away from his father and bowed, walking alongside him down the hallways of their kingdoms castle, his arms rested behind his waist formally, looking at the walls around them, a look of concern on his face. Not looking at him, Alistair addressed his father.

"It didn't take much of a glimpse into your eyes to see your troubled soul, father... The nightmares again... Correct?"

Alistair wasn't going to wait for confirmation, he's known his father since he was a child, and with being both wise and more intelligent for his age, things such as emotions were an easy thing for him to see, fake or otherwise.

"That makes six... you shouldn't let the thoughts of chaos sap at your mind, father... Mother needs you... your kingdom needs you... Just as I need you." Alistair expressed with a light smile, though his smile eventually dropped, having to bring up the topic of the day.

"Though i'm not for one fleeting moment insinuating we put your fears to the chopping block, after all, it pays to be cautious... Though I understand that we should save talks about our kingdom for the actual meeting, it may not sound like it, but even I dread those meetings... But before we can enter that chamber, as a suggestion I would ask of you to indulge on some tea with Lady Mother, a peaceful heart and a calm mind can win many battles." Alistair spoke, clearly wanting the best for his King and Father, so that he could at least speak with some clarity come the meeting and so his own sanity would be stable.

Rida woke up with terrible bed head. "Why must you wake us so early?" Rida said to her father through the door. Rida didn't respond well to the servants waking her up, but her father was another story. Her father had an intimidating aura to him. One that Rida could not ignore, even with how stubborn she was. Rida at this point started to get dressed while a maid started to comb out her hair. ~I don't care about my lessons, their always so boring.~ Rida thought to herself as she looked in the mirror as her hair was combed through.

Once finished getting ready Rida headed out of her room. She went straight to the dining hall hoping to get something to eat before trying to skip out on her lessons again. In truth Rida knew that she was the most disappointing out of all of her siblings. She could not cast spells like her younger brother. Nor could she fight well with a sword like her elder brother. Instead she had taken up the peasants art of making traps. But Rida was not one to think of the future, she always focused on the now.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________



Cythlla had spent much of the night slaughtering a small farming town. A great war was coming, and Cythlla knew of the best way to make it harder for the enemy to win. That was by getting rid of the food. She had her ghouls burn the fields and kill the farmers. With a lack of food the kingdom of Calekor may have some problems on their hands. Of course this was only one farm village, she would be going to many more in the coming nights.

After her slaughtering of the farming village Cythlla had retreated from the sun to one of her many hidden caves. She had taken a few other children with her into the cave. She had decided to turn these children into full fledged children, after all nothing was more damaging to morale then having to kill children. The added benefit of Cythlla's suggestion helped even more as these children were under her control and would not rebel.

His current client was a slightly plump, hazel eyed merchant from inland. What set him apart, however, from the stonecutters, loaners and dyers was his lack of jewelry and practical attire, with a simple, black blouse that wouldn't extend past the hips, mountaineering boots, and cloak inlaid with chainmail.

"Hophen, how delightful to see you. I sure hope finding this hideout did not take too long."
"It would be delightful indeed, were we under different circumstances, sir Master Key. And yes, I had to circle these woods for two hours straight before I could find the markings, but I believe that's a small price to pay for not being followed, is it not?"
"Quite astute. And please, call me Gabe."

Hophen was a veteran soldier in his fifties. After retiring because of a bad knee (these arrows, man) he set up shop around his father's smith, specializing in broadswords and maces. Things were going well for decades, until recently, the local governor began hiking the taxes on weapons and demanding smith permits. The only way to circumvent the tax was to sell to the noble's men directly. Thus, he was slowly amassing quite a militia. The Mistwalkers had had their eyes on his activity for quite some months, but got pushed to strike just yesterday, by Hophen's generous offering. Beyond that, Galio had some quite... good intel on this man, and the benefits he might bring long term.

Hophen closed in for a hand-shake. As Galio took it, he swiftly relaxed his pupils and gazed around the room. Radiating weakly in infrared, two lightsplitting Mistwalkers were stationed in the corners by the only exit. "Humph, typical of Raoul." thought Galio. "When that avaricious sack of shite says he can spare two to five men, be sure he's adding the last part just for flavor."

Sitting down both his guest and himself, Galio unceremoniously fished for a ring from an inner pocket and placed it in front of the veteran-merchant. Solid gold, it held the crest of his governor. "Couldn't expect any less from you. Well done." Hophen nodded, placing a sizeable purse on the table. "Just curious, if you may be inclined to share some of your trade secrets, but how did you do it? His security was airtight - thanks in no little respect to the cache of weapons and mercenaries he's been collecting." Galio grinned. "Do you know what the difference is between a mercenary and an assassin, Hoph?" "No, what is it, sir Master K... Gabe?" Larger grin. "One of them is also quite the botanist."

After a short while, understanding dawned on the smith's face, followed by disbelief. "Food poison? But... the Lord has multiple tasters." "Potentiation." Galio revealed, as if from nowhere, three small vials of clear liquid. "One goes into the bread, another into the pork, the last into the wine. You eat the pork, you're slightly dizzy. You eat the bread, you're slightly lightsick. You drink the wine, you're slightly nauseated. You eat all three, you die. The more tasters, the better - they sample each separately, and there's less collateral damage." "Quite impressive exposition. It is no wonder they call you the best of the best." "Why, thank you, Hoph. Unfortunately, even the best of the best have things they cannot do. As you may very well know, there are things that lurk this Earth that laugh in the face of poison."

Galio could not read emotion from body heat, as some of his comrades, but Hophen's panicked face left no room for wonder. "What do you imply, Gabe?" "You were a soldier; I am well aware of this fact. A vanguard, even. You must know the difference between the vanguard and regular troops, right, veteran?" "Yes, quite so." Hophen sighed, defeated. Galio opened the purse, carefully split the coin inside in half, and handed one of the piles back to his client. "You have seen things, Hophen. Things you might never want to recall. Things that wake you up at night with a cold sweat. Things that make you wonder how come you made it out alive after all these years of service." With each sentence, Hophen slumped more and more in his chair, finally giving in. "Fine. What do you wish of me?"

With a victorious smile, Galio made a small gesture with his left hand, instructing the other two Mistwalkers to leave. This time, he'd be getting what he wanted without the use of force. "Hophen. Tell me all you know about the undead - and how to destroy them."

Such wreckless hatred. Such wanton slaughter. Such senseless waste.

The caravan had been hit merely hours ago, and it had been hit hard. It was no small venture either, a full eight wagons all told, and at least a score of heavily armed guards. Now all that remained was smouldering embers and warped iron. A few blackened limbs stuck out from the wrecks, and a few bodies had been gruesomely welded to the hard stones of the Geshmere Road.

Kalar scowled from the cloaked sanctuary of his heavy linen hood, wincing away rivulets of rain that were busily sliding down his face. None of this made sense, it just didn't add up. Kalar Splint was the kind of man who had seen a typical raid a thousand times. People were killed, women raped and children enslaved, goods taken and horses stolen. The fact that everything, riches and all, had been reduced to ash and glass was just bizarre.

And few fires could rage so strongly under the towering might of a Galuntrung Storm.

The rain crashed down in a fierce temper, doing its best to snuff out the last of the flames, but despite its tenacity, the blackened wood continued to crackle away merrily. Whatever had hit the caravan, had hit it fast and with enough heat to literally melt people into the road beneath.

A dozen or so rangers, some of Kalar's best, were busy trying to find tracks aside the road - something that would give a clear indication of what had happened. However, the rain was doing a fine job of destroying the evidence. Frustrated that the situation may become beyond their understanding, Kalar turned his head slightly to address an equally drenched and hooded figure beside him.

"Liara," he croaked, rather than spoke, "find me something. Anything. I want to know what happened here."

Liara was his Ace; she'd barely been with his group for two winters, yet she was already a better tracker and a better fighter than he himself would ever be. Not that this openly showed of course, for Liara was a delicate looking thing - not quite a woman of the court delicate, but she held a frame that followed the curves of natural beauty, as opposed to the rigid outline of an unstoppable force. Looks were deceiving though, and Kalar had learned as much early on in their "partnership".

He may have been an effective and calculating killer when all was said and done, but Liara had the kind of potential that could bring down Empires, if she ended up walking that road. An unnatural energy possessed her, he knew this though he'd seen little real proof. Her presence made even the hardiest warriors uneasy, the most feral beasts wary. Few women could stand toe to toe with a man twice their weight, and he'd seen her take on several at a time on occasion. Wasted potential, one might say, but Kalar had come to appreciate that she was not keen to fulfill the mould that had perhaps been cast for her. This was good, as far as he saw it. That kind of power could corrupt a person, turn them sour.

The rain carried on, and Kalar awaited Liara's response. Innocent blood had been spilled that day, and the Rangers of Galuntrung Keep were about to avenge all those stories that had been cut several chapters short.

A clutter of books, and several parchments fell to the floor in an undignified manner as a burst of blonde hair lifted up from the large mahogany desk at the corner of the room, letting the sunlight bathe its warmth upon the youngest prince of Celakor. His olive eyes began to adjust to the light as Lethonel realized that, once again, he was late. As Lethonel caught sight of the outer ring of the kingdom through the window, he couldn't help but let out a relaxed sigh. This was one of the reasons why he preferred dozing off on his study. It allowed him see, at least, a portion of the kingdom in its splendor, and for a monarch, it was a rare commodity since you were trailed by a series of bodyguards who never let you go anywhere outside of the walls. Lethonel turned his gaze back unto his desk, realizing that his latest book, 'Anatomical Features of Males and Females', was already stained with his saliva.

Lethonel's mind weaved back to why he even started reading this book. Oh, no, it was not because he wanted to research about his disease or anything honorable for that matter. In fact, he, ashamedly, got curious of the anatomical differences between him and her. Lethonel Proudsword, scholar of Celakor, felt like a criminal-- hiding what he was reading from his parents, siblings, and retainers. Oh, well, probably, they'd just think that he was researching on his disease. Thoughts of what he had read rushed back to his mind, causing a tint of red to immediately flush from his cheeks. "Who would have thought that they had that?" he glided his fingers over his dry lips before he felt it... oh, he felt it coming. Instantly, he covered his mouth as a series of guttural coughs overrode his system. He did his best to suppress the sounds, not wanting his family to have to hear their liability so early in the morning. He stumbled for a bit as he attempted to stand up, but, ultimately, he was able to reach his bathroom, and began to wash and clean himself for the start of the new day, which was probably prompted by his father's incessant voice that echoed outside his room. Throughout the ordeal, he tried his best to make his coughs as inaudible as possible whilst the thoughts of his research continued to permeate his thoughts.

Then, the door to his chamber swung open. Lethonel, dressed in his standard prince attire but with the lack of armor, bounded out as he immediately came across Sariel, his Father and King, and Alistair, his brother and the crown prince. He placed his right hand on his chest before bowing to the two figures, then, he brought up his hand to his mouth in an effort to suppress the cough once more. "Father, brother..." he finally spoke. "Pardon my tardiness. I have been sleeping irregularly as of late." Lethonel smiled as he extended a stack of neatly bound parchments to his father. "The proposals for the kingdom's watering system and rations have been developed by the Scholars of the Moon, father." The Scholars of the Moon were a conclave of talented individuals who work directly under the crown, focusing more on research rather than battle-- some peasants and other officials murmur and whisper of how these scholars were the intellectual counterpart of the Kingsguard. But, of course, they are just rumors. As the child of the king, Lethonel immediately joined the organization and was inducted as one of its own shortly after he turned fourteen.

Then, he turned to his brother with a nod. "I can never beat your zeal for service, brother. I could only dream to attaining the same glory as you." There were no lies in his words. Lethonel really did look up to his brother immensely. For him, Alistair was the epitome of what a prince, a soldier, and a man should be. He had tried to follow his brother's steps during their childhood, but when the former could only handle wooden swords, the latter was already firing a longbow. There was a definite ravine between their skills; a gap that Lethonel could never hope to bridge for a century to pass. Then, there was also his sister: Rida. He had also looked up to her for her energy and enthusiasm. Sure, she trespassed to his room and, potentially, piece together his recent escapades, but she had something that Lethonel could never find in books: fun. Rida knew how to have fun, how to enjoy life, and that was something that not even Alistair could do.Finally, Lethonel turned to his father. "I heard that you require my aid, father? What is it I can do for the crown?" his hand rested on the rapier at his side; a rapier that was not even used in combat once. It was merely there for show, as if to hide his already weak constitution.

"I think you and I both know, father that I would already be awake for an important day such as this..." Alistair's preparedness came as no surprise to his father. Its just more fun to assume the worst of minor things from people. Sariel smirked all during Alistair's walk up to him outside Lethonel's door. "It didn't take much of a glimpse into your eyes to see your troubled soul, father... The nightmares again... Correct?" His son had always been a bit older than his years, but he still used to be a reckless sort, tirelessly testing himself in such dangerous manners. How he was now was almost like a transformation, though maybe it made more sense than Sariel knew and there was just a piece missing somewhere in their relationship. Leading a nation could do that to a family. At the very least Sariel was proud Alistair understood that. "That makes six... you shouldn't let the thoughts of chaos sap at your mind, father... Mother needs you... your kingdom needs you... Just as I need you." Dead on. Concerningly so. Sariel was sure he had been able to keep at least a few of his nightmares a secret from everyone. "Though i'm not for one fleeting moment insinuating we put your fears to the chopping block, after all, it pays to be cautious... Though I understand that we should save talks about our kingdom for the actual meeting, it may not sound like it, but even I dread those meetings... But before we can enter that chamber, as a suggestion I would ask of you to indulge on some tea with Lady Mother, a peaceful heart and a calm mind can win many battles.""I appreciate your concern," the king replied honeslty, "but I do believe we have a few hours to center ourselves before that" Sariel said with a smile.

It was then that Lethonel's door swung open. I can never beat your zeal for service, brother. "I can never beat your zeal for service, brother. I could only dream to attaining the same glory as you. I heard that you require my aid, father? What is it I can do for the crown?" Even in his weakness Lethonel was eager to be of service and as far as Sariel was concerned, all for the right reasons. "I need you to get particular book for me in town." He threw his arms around the necks of his sons despite his eldest impressive height making it a bit difficult. "I'll tell you all the details later though. For now we should eat. Catch up with your sister and I'll go get Lucinda. It has been too long since we all ate together."

@Cultural titan @Cubix @Cuccoruler



"As you wish" Alistair accepted, giving his father another small smile before the door to Lethonel's room swung open, and out came the youngest prince as polite as ever, bowing in respect, it was only right that Alistair did the same, bowing to his little brother with the same respect he was sharing to him, it was only fair in Alistair's eyes.



Hearing these words from his brother just as he revealed the stack of parchments made him happy, his selfless kindness always was a loving quality of his, something Alistair has told him many times before. The intelligence he possessed at such a young age was undoubtfully impressive, and at times, though he never showed it, has been somewhat envious of that intellect, though in a respectful, proud way. One brother handles the blade, and the other handles the pen, a good ying yang, opposites attract, and are stronger because of this, atleast, that's what Alistair likes to think.

"I can never beat your zeal for service, brother. I could only dream to attaining the same glory as you."

Alistair lightly shook his head in disapproval of his statement, he didn't appreciate being glorified in such a way, in fact it actually made his skin crawl. He knew many people would revere him should he end up becoming king, however that didn't stop him from disliking his brother's glorification, as if he thought that his bigger brother was better than him.

"Please, there's no need to praise me so needlessly, brother. You are talented in ways that even i'm jealous of, never forget these wise words... Whilst the sword can be the instrument to finish a long bloody war, the pen can end it before it even begins."

Resting a hand ontop of Lethonel's head, he gently rustled his hair, smirking at his younger brother, hoping his words would help give him the boost of confidence he needed, though it was then that father had put his arm around both him and his younger brothers necks rather nonchalantly, Alistair slowly arching his back down to make it easier for him.

"I'll tell you all the details later though. For now we should eat. Catch up with your sister and I'll go get Lucinda. It has been too long since we all ate together."

"Very well father... Come brother, less sister snatches all the cheese...!" Alistair said with relaxed casualness, his expression gentle and loving before Alistair slowly stood upright, the eldest son approached the dining hall, hands behind his waist once more, hoping his brother would follow him into the dining hall where their sister was located.

---

Droplets of the morning dew shimmered like starlight as the morning sun shone brightly down upon the elegant courtyard of Castle Clandstein. The garden was large, and boasted a wide variety of beautiful, colorful flowers. These included radiant red roses, bushes of heavenly lavender, golden chrysanthemums and many more varieties of wildflowers; far too many to count. Truly, it was the spectacle of the great castle and the servants who tended to the flowers were very proud of their work. Lucinda found herself in the center of the garden this morning, as she did many other mornings after she woke. Her elegant, white gown was brought to life in the sunlight, giving her a warm, radiant aura as she admired a well kept monument at the center of the garden. Even in such a beautiful place, the Queen's face held an expression of sorrow and grief as she gently traced the words imprinted on the monument with her delicate fingers.


Lucinda released a long, somber sigh before neatly tucking her hands on top of each other in front of her waist. She stood tall with her head held high. Her beautiful golden hair was tied into a neat bun, a gorgeous ceramic hair piece with sunflowers painted onto it holding her hair in place. She held fond memories of the time Sariel had insisted on putting up this monument for the Queen's family. The King knew that he could never undo what his father had done to Lucinda's house, but the Queen took comfort in the fact that this monument was a gesture of her King's unconditional love. As if on cue, her train of thought was interrupted by a rough, gravelly voice from behind her.
"Your Highness," Sir Henryk, the Knight who had been guarding Lucinda this morning, spoke up before being abruptly interrupted by Lucinda.
"Don't mince words, Sir Henryk. Impart your intentions, then take your leave." Lucinda's voice was cold and her words blunt; a direct contrast to the warm, welcoming aura that surrounded her. It was well known across the castle Lucinda's distaste for the Knights in her King's service. Many of them played a part in the genocide of her family. Even though she knew they were just following orders, she just couldn't bring herself to forgive them. Not yet.

Henryk stiffened up at her harshness, even though it wasn't a surprise that the Queen acted this way towards him. Clearing his throat, he addressed the Queen once more.
"His Royal Majesty, King Sariel Proudsword, is here to escort your Highness to the dining hall." Lucinda raised an eyebrow, turning her head and body to the left slightly to catch a glimpse of her husband standing besides the Knight. Lucinda's rosy cheeks lifted up with a bright smile, and she turned herself fully to face Sariel with a curtsy. Raising up, she walked over to him and gently pressed her lips against his cheek.
"What a delightful surprise. Are our darling children waiting for us? If so, we must make haste. I wish to see them all before they depart for yet another days adventure." Even though Lucinda deeply missed her House, she knew that she had to put on a brave face in front of Sariel and her children. If the Queen showed weakness, then what would her subjects think of her? Lucinda brushed the hair from her fringe out of her face as she awaited the King to escort her to their children.

---

The sound of dripping water echoed throughout the dimly lit room. The walls, covered in a black, sticky substance that slowly crawled down to the ground in a pile, were cracked and dilapidated. They looked as though they would crumble with a slight wind. The floor didn't look any better; covered in the strange black substance and the ancient bones of those who had been lost in the labyrinth. At the end of the room, the strange black substance converged to one point, forming a large pile which Nyarlathotep sat upon. Their wings wrapped around them like a cloak, only their head popping out from the top. The ever present smile on their face was enough to unnerve even the bravest of men. Black, sunken eye sockets that held the darkness of the abyss within them watched over the others present in the room. Nyarlathotep's inner circle. Mortal beings of darkness that served only them. This was the first time Nyarlathotep had presented itself to the others. Before today, the Dark Lord had remained in the shadows and issued orders. Yet their desire for conquest grew more insatiable by the day, and they found themselves unable to wait any longer.

Standing up from the throne of Abyss slime, Nyarlathotep spread it's mighty wings and addressed their followers with a hundred distorted, horrific voices.
"There is a natural order to this world. Darkness and Light. Every soul possesses both. Even you, who all claim to be one with he darkness; cannot avoid this fact. Your souls are dark, but there will always be even the tiniest spark of light." When Nyarlathotep spoke, their mouth did not move. Instead their voices echoed throughout the room from all angles, sending chills down the spines of all who hear them. "Yet here you stand. Conquerors of your inner light. You believe there is only strength in Darkness. So you stand before us, Darkness itself, willing to give me everything you have to attain power." Nyarlathotep spread their wings wide with a large, powerful gust; blowing out the torches on the walls until the only light remaining was the torch on top of their head.
"You are fools to believe that the Light holds no power. We once thought the same, and now We are stuck in this fleeting form. To make the same mistake as Us would be disgraceful. But you're all smarter than that, correct? You know not to underestimate the Light. No, we will be patient. And then when the time is right, we shall snuff them out completely." Nyarlathotep reached up and grabbed the lamp atop of their head, putting it down in front of them as they eerily stared into the faces of their followers.

"Now. Step forward, and present your name. Swear your allegiance to us and us alone." Nyarlathotep held their long, slender arm out; black claws outstretching as they beckoned the Inner Circle forward to present themselves to their Lord.

The rain was unrelenting. Liara had stood, not far from Kalar, quite literally soaked to the bone. She was never very far from Kalar. While the other rangers always looked at her with tilted heads and squinted eyes, Kalar was different. She noted that he needed to be, in order to lead such a rabble, but it was something more than that. There was a normalcy, an acceptance, which reminded her of a time before all the bloodshed and anger.

The misery of that day hadn’t seemed to shake her, she was too preoccupied dissecting the carnage of someone else’s wrath. Slowly stepping forward, the debris crackling under her boot, she reached a finger towards a piece of iron. It was covered in a layer of soot so thick, the rain, despite its intensity, had only smeared a small portion of it away. The metal itself had been burnt so badly, one would never recognize what it had been before, but it was the smeared soot that caught her eye.

A voice came forward over the clank and clatter of the others and the loud pitter patter of the rain. “Liara,” her mentor stepped forward, “find me something. Anything. I want to know what happened here. “. She nodded in response, “Of course, sir.”

Her gaze crawled back to the caravan and the riddles it whispered. She had seen this wrath before. At least she thought she did. The destruction came as something familiar. She had felt it, courted it from time to time in a past life. She pulled a small piece of cloth from inside her cloak. It too had been sopping wet, but would do the job just fine. She ran it down the warped piece of metal, collecting whatever she could. She continued to move slowly, circling the caravan, her feet in careful placement as not to further the damage the rain was ensuing. Another step, and then another, taking in all details of what was left.

“Do we know anything about this caravan?” her eyes were fixed on what lay before her as she spoke. Bodies burned to a crisp, some even cemented to the ground. But there was something else, a distinct smell that still lingered in the air. She tilted her head back and pulled down her hood to get a better whiff. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, her lips pursing tightly as she came to realize what it was. Yes, it was the smell that gave it all away.

The heavy rain had managed to wash all tracks away, but there was something amiss. Something had made large impressions in the ground, that were now filling up with water. The puddles were much larger than any others scattered throughout the area.

“I’ll need to know a bit more about the caravan to get a clearer picture of why it happened – where it was going, what goods was it carrying. The obvious intention was to eradicate all that was here. I can’t tell if this was just pure animalistic rage, or if not, what the reason was to burn it all from existence. But I can tell you that there was ... something else involved. The fire would not have burned so hot and for so long without an accelerant of some type, and there was none here."

She knelt down beside one of the bodies to inspect it closer. Shoving away the charred remains of the caravan, anything that concealed the body and there it was. Her fingers ran upon the jagged edges of flesh and torn cloth. This body had been ripped in half. She finally looked up at her mentor. Though her face was void of expression, her voice gave way to much concern.

"I know of no man who can do this."

Ythreïn Methreon

5 hours before…
From a distance, Ythreïn had seen the caravan coming on the road. Such an easy target he thought. His dragon mount, Scythia, was growing restless underneath him. The dragon was as big as a horse, yet her wings were yet too small to fly up into the air. She could breathe fire though. Just like Numerius and Argon. But both of them were far younger than she was. Hatchlings they were, and still not bigger than a large hound. Ythreïn and his followers felt their hearts starting to beat harder in anticipation. Their burning blood pushed through their veins with anticipation. Even at this nightly hour, the Cult of Sol’Tuin was ready for slaughter.

The raid, or massacre, lasted far too short for Ythreïn. On the back of Scythia he stormed with a wild fury into the caravan. The dragon jumped on top of the first caravan. In blind bloodlust she tried to bite something inside of it. Ythreïn jumped off her back as a guard came at him. The poor man was yelling a unconvincing battle cry as he wet his breeches. One thrust of Valermos through the man’s wide open mouth was more than enough to stop him. Scythia screeched behind him as she threw one half of a women up into the air. With her long neck she again went inside the caravan. Seconds later she threw a crying babe into the air. With her flaming breath she burned the baby as it was still in the air, catched the burned remains and swallowed it whole.

Numerius and Argon were also enjoying their meals. They had surrounded a guard, desperately trying to fend them off. Argon, the emerald scaled dragon, had enough and unleashed its torrent of flames upon the poor man. The guard collapsed crying as the flames consumed him. Numerius, the sapphire blue dragon, saw his chance and ripped off the man’s arm in one savage bite. He simply walked away, proud with his price. Argon threw the man on his back and clawed at him stomach. Guts began to flow out. But Argon liked his prey burned. Even on the inside. He pushed his head inside a wide gap, and started roasting the man from inside.

Ythreïn slashed away in almost reckless abandon. Laughing in joy. All around him, his cult slaughtered the guards and soon the peasants too. The carts quickly caught fire. The horses were either eaten, set on fire, killed by a blade or any combination of those options. Pausing his slaughter for a moment, Ythreïn saw a bloody trail run from the caravan a bit further down the road. Following it, he swiftly found the source. A man crawling on the ground. His legs were clearly broken. As if the man felt the sting of Ythreïn’s gaze, he turned on his back. “I beg you, my lord…I beg of you…Let me live.” The man begged for his life. With hot tears running down his cheek. “I beg of you! Mercy!” the man cried out, now more frantic. Yet the Knight of Dragons lifted his sword, pointing it at the man. But instead of thrusting it, he kept it still. The runes on it began to glow a fierce red. Golden flames ignited from the handle, and spread down the blade. “Eat, Valermos.” The hush voice of Ythreïn said. The golden flames threw themselves from the blade into the man. Like the breath of a dragon. The man cried in anguish for a second, but then his life force fled his body. Yet the flames pushed harder. Melting it and the stone road behind it. Fusing it together.

---

Present time…
Ythreïn stepped forward. His red plate armor in stark difference with his lord. He drew Valermos from his scabbard, and planted it before him. As he knelt on his left knee and bowed his head. “Ythreïn Methreon. Knight of Dragons. I swear my allegiance to you, our Lord, Nyarlathotep.” He said, in his usual formal, hushed voice.

A chuckle escaped Lethonel's lips as his brother ruffled his already messy hair, something that the crown prince often did to cheer him up. "Thank you, Alistair." he sighed calmly before the old geezer pulled the both of them in for an awkward yet, oddly, warm hug that sent the youngest prince's cheek colliding with his brother's. Alistair was much too tall for them, as it would seem. Still, it was a good start to their morning-- a pretty good start in a long time. Then, his father took leave, opting to escort his mother to the dining hall. Oh, how Lethonel admired Queen Lucinda. Her poise, her elegance rivaled that of the proudest monarchs of all history, and more! She needn't raise a sword to intimidate her enemies as her tongue and words were already knives and daggers themselves. She need not use magic (though, she certainly was blessed with one) to freeze those who oppose her, for her eyes were petrifying enough. That was Queen Lucinda, an immovable object, and an unstoppable force at the same time. He had tried to imitate his mother as well, but to no avail. He couldn't lash out at anybody, he couldn't glare at anyone. People never take him seriously except when he's writing. Well, it was to be expected from someone who couldn't even train for five minutes without panting like a dying duck that had its wings shot.

However, Alistair, the Alistair, the proud crown-prince of Celakor, had praised him and told him otherwise! To think low of himself when his brother had bestowed such kind words would be an insult to Alistair himself. Thus, Lethonel shook his head of these thoughts as he merely grinned widely at the mention of Rida stealing the cheese. Now, that was an understatement at best. Forget the cheese! Rida would steal anything she wanted. It was something that made meal times... enjoyable. No king, no queen, no prince, no princess... just a father, a mother, and their children. "Indeed. Although, I would wager that she has already done that, brother." Lethonel replied before an intense bout of horrid coughs ravaged his throat, causing the prince to fall to the ground in a panting heap. It took minutes just for Lethonel to get a hold of himself, and by this time, he was flushed red due to the shame he had felt. "I... apologize..." he breathed slowly before wobbling slightly on his feet as he got up. The prince shook his head, pulling out a small cloth towel which he used to wipe the streaks of saliva that ran around his lips and chin. "S-sorry f-for that, Alistair. Come, let us be on our way." Lethonel smiled when one of the servants approached him, attempting to aid the prince's unstable gait.

"I am not going to die, Rhem. You need not trouble yourself." Lethonel waved his hand to the servant as he placed his hand on the rapier in an attempt to look strong. He turned to his brother with a nod, gesturing for them to go to the dining hall where Rida would most probably be waiting for them. Thus, Lethonel walked onwards, although there were some lapses in his rhythem, and took a few seconds to observe the majestic architecture of their castle. "The sun, the moon... just like father and mother." Lethonel remarked upon seeing a fine carving of the sun and the moon that were locked in an eternal dance of balance. Then, he shook his head, opting to continue the journey towards the dining hall.

Soon, Lethonel arrived at the dining hall, bowing to the servants that were present in the room. Lethonel hesitated to take his seat, opting to wait for his parents to arrive. Although, he wondered where Rida could be... Did she escape again? The prince shook his head in silent disappointment. This could be the first time in months that the entire family could be together.... would Rida really miss that?

But, a greater problem was at hand. The food... those were not the ones he fancied... His eyes secretly dropped as he wished for something sweet like honey-battered fish or something-- just anything sweet! Still, he had no right to complain. Others had no food to eat, and here he was acting like an infant. No, he had not done anything significant for the kingdom, and thus, he had no right to voice his concerns. Lethonel steeled himself as he looked at the royal cooks, bowing to them to show his appreciation of the supposedly sumptuous meal. However, his eyes darted to the main door, seemingly awaiting the arrival of the chosen of the Sun and Moon-- his mother and father. "You think that father and mother will be available for us to be able to dine together? Usually, one of them is busy... or one of us. This is the first time in months since we last saw each other in the same room, Alistair." Lethonel expressed his hope, combing his hair back in a similar fashion to his brother. "I would hate to miss this."

"I know of no man who can do this."

Uncertain words boded ill in uncertain times, and the slight faltering of Liara's tone carried on the gathering wind like an omen of things to come. Something evil stalked the land, something unnatural; the aging Ranger sensed it, though he could make no claim to being more than just a man. He'd seen many terrible things in his years, but this was the first time in a long while that he felt a stirring in his gut. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but reminded him of the early days, where he would nervously lay in wait for those who had done wrong to others. Fear? Anxiety?

He shook the thoughts away and refocused himself.

Kalar stood over his Ace, looking past her shoulder at the ruined remains of what was once a man. Presumably. Entrails, caked in soot but still red with blood, snaked their way into the ruins of a nearby wagon. The expression on the man was not the one of horror, nor the one of anger, but something altogether more eery. Kalar stared into that scorched face, and after a few moments, he shuddered a little.

"That's a face of lost hope, if I ever saw one," he growled, taking time to wipe some of the rain from his face with the back of his sodden sleeve. "This man accepted his fate the same way I'd accept mine if I came upon the Great Reaper himself. Whatever happened here, whatever beast tore this man asunder, we must be wary."

Kneeling down beside Liara, he started to move his hand over the corpse. The man's flesh had gone cold, but Kalar gripped a blacked limb and tried to move it; the extremity was as stiff as iron. "Dead a few hours," he muttered. "Not long enough for the rigor to fade. Our foe cannot be far."

He stood back, uncertain of how to proceed. They had no leads, and no idea where the ones responsible for this slaughter had headed. Was he dealing with men, or with beasts? Or both? The plains were a large place to lose yourself in, and Kalar would know. He wanted vengeance for these people, but he wasn't going to risk his men chasing ghosts in the endless expanse.

"To answer your question, Liara, this caravan was likely carrying furs to Merandin from Okly - a little trading village about ten miles east of here; deals primarily in animal wares," he said, not looking at her, but at something in the dirt. A brass circle, with some partially obliterated embroidery. "I recognize the seal of Okly," he continued, picking up the brass, "they're good people, shrewd but agreeable in most cases. A lot of coin goes through there considering how small the place is, and I reckon someone must be missing the dead - if not the goods. I reckon we'd best pay a visit, and see if the traders have any information that may help piece things together."

Throwing the brass circle back into the wreck, he turned to his rangers who remained scattered throughout the caravan and started barking a command. "We're moving east to Okly, make yourselves ready in five minutes. String bows, keep swords loose in your scabbards. I don't want to blunder into ... into whatever did this."

The rangers scrambled to obey, forming up into a column besides the caravan. As if agreeing with their intent, the storm started to retreat into a patchy down pour though the wind increased its tenacity.

Kalar knelt down again besides Liara and hushed his tone, "Liara, I want you to head out a league ahead of us. Your eyes and your grace put an old codger like me to shame, and I don't trust the boys not to walk us into an ambush. Stop when you reach the village, or double back at the first sign of trouble. I fear for Okly, though I know not why."

The mere moment Lethonel fell, Alistair's heart almost stopped in shock, he knew his younger brother wasn't the healthiest, and as such, was always on the alert for just when these things take place. To see his younger brother, a brother he loved very much collapse into a coughing mess scared him. Alistair had hurried back to his side in a split nanosecond, kneeling down instantaneously to assist him, he wasn't just going to stand by and let his brother face his illness by himself, that wouldn't be the humane thing to do, he needed to make sure he was safe.

"Easy brother...! Do not overexert yourself..."

His hands gently grasped as Lethonal's waist when he spoke, hoping his younger brother was fine. Sure, his brother had these moments many times, but even so, even if he were alright, that didn't stop Alistair from taking every precaution imaginable, just to be on the safe side, sure, Alistair may display himself as cold to his soldiers and others, but to his family? His sister, his brother, mother and father? They were the only people he would ever let see his kinder, more gentle side.

"I... apologize..."

"You shall not..." Alistair retorted in an instant, there was no need for him to apologize for something out of his control, and Alistair, no matter how many times his younger brother says "I'm sorry", Alistair will always be there to correct him, that his illness is not his to apologize for. Alistair gave a small helping hand, but let his younger brother do most of the work getting up onto his feet, after all, he had to stand on his own two legs, and show his own strength.

"I've told you time and time again, you have nothing to apologize for, you are a strong man, who can do many great things even in this condition..."

Letting his hands go of his brother, he watched as Lethonal stood up perfectly, a sigh of relief escaping mentally through his mind, feeling better as a result, though when the Servants approached Alistair's expression sharpened into an almost malevolent glare, a sure sign for the servants to cease their motions and stay back to let his brother take care of himself, though he ceased his glare when the prince spoke to defend himself, and nodded, agreeing with Lethonal's statement, he walked beside his brother once more, smiling as he took the time to take in the wonderful architecture of the castle, he always enjoyed watching his younger brother act pensive, and always tried to think about what he was thinking... Never the less, they arrived at their destination.

Walking into the dining hall, the older brother noticed their sister was nowhere in sight, deciding to take this moment to jest once more with his brother.

"Aaaah, perhaps the cheese has turned her into a mouse, and she's scurried off to conceal herself away from our sights, brother...?" he smirked slyly, before resting his back against the wall, with his brother shortly ahead of him.

"You think that father and mother will be available for us to be able to dine together? Usually, one of them is busy... or one of us. This is the first time in months since we last saw each other in the same room, Alistair. I would hate to miss this."

Alistair thought about it for a second, it was true that it indeed had been months since the whole family has been around the table for supper, a rare sight indeed, though he wished for the whole family to be together here too, a nice quiet morning together would be the perfect start to the day, and a joy before his meeting with father later on...

"As would I brother" He spoke when his younger brother expressed himself about hating to miss a morning with the whole family. "Though i'm sure our Lady Mother and Great Father will arrive in due time... As will our ... little mouse." He finished with a smile, his hand clasped onto a small pouch on his hip.

"However... On the chance our lovely sibling and parents are not all here together at once... Perhaps this will cheer you, brother."

Pushing himself off the wall, Alistair placed a small silk pouch, about the size of a hand into Lethonal's own, a sweetly scent escaping from behind the fabric, some form of sweet treat it seemed! All for him!

"I know how much you love your... Confections, though do be good and hide it for after breakfast, last thing I would need is a scolding from our loved ones...!" He spoke kindly, signaling his brother to hide the sweet food pouch.

Rida had been hiding in the dining hall. She had already layed traps for her brothers. As they applied pressure to their seats buckets would fall from the ceiling and onto their heads. "You two really are bucket heads!" Rida said with a smile as she came out from behind one of the doors laughing at him.

Rida loved her pranks and would most likely not be giving it up. It helped to keep morale up after all, that and she loved teasing her brothers. "Your all so serious you know that?" Rida added with a huge smile on her face as she approached the table getting into her own seat. She had also layed yet another trap above the doors that her father and mother would be entering. This one would also have buckets falling on their heads as soon as they entered the room.

Rida had spent her morning making these traps. They were simple enough to set up without too many people noticing, not to mention it only required ropes and buckets. Rida leaned back in her chair acting rather relaxed, and not at all princess like. She was planning on skipping her lessons today too of course. She had a new trap that she wanted to try out of course, it was complicated but she needed to see if it would work.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Cythlla had been infront of Nyathlotep as well. Most likely news of the farming village had reached the ears of the kingdoms in the area. The only strange thing was that there were no bodies of children. They were all gone, and the adults were killed, some entirely drained of their blood. Others were left there as ghouls without a purpose. They would however attack any humans that got close to them. They were nothing but shells, without a soul or purpose. Cythlla had left them there as a message of course.

Cythlla approached Nyatholotep with her teddy bear in her arms. She didn't care much for formalities only warfare. "I can assure you Nyathlotep, the vampires will gladly to their jobs to make this a successful war." Cythlla said taking a slight courtsy. Behind her were a few of her vampirec generals. These ranged from old men to full grown adults. Cythlla liked to keep her troops versatile. After all, getting down morale was her specialty.

Sariel

Lucinda was a joy. Her calm and subtle power was an elegant guiding light for the king throughout his reign over Celakor. The sight of her beautiful face and the touch of her lips against his skin made him smile mischievously. "You know" he began returning the queens peck on the cheeks with his own, "I was hoping to sneak up behind you here in the courtyard. Maybe scare the daylight out of you for old time's sake." He sighed. It began pleasantly as Sariel remember the more entertaining pranks he had pulled back during their courtship, but the tail end became morose as he caught glimpse of the last words of the Gisele Monument. Lest we forget. Sure their attachment to the king was without context, but to Sariel it meant not to forget his power and what tragedies become of its misuse. Tragedies his father was all too eager to let slip by or even encourage for his own benefit.

"Come" the king said throwing his left arm around Lucinda. "Let me walk you to breakfast. I think that the cook has something special planned." Of course Sariel had specifically ordered a very fine breakfast for this morning, so there would be no surprise for him.

Raven:

"Vengeance..." a voice echoed in the back of raven's mind. "You desire vengeance right?" For a moment everything was cold. Raven was on his back in the cold winter of northern Celakor. His body heat was escaping his body in a mad dash to escape his failing systems. His frigid, ragged breathe met unfriendly air filled with battle cries, screams of pain, the clashing of metal. All around him lay fallen enemies, wounded allies and bloodstained leaves. How could Raven have been such a fool. To be tricked into this fight. The king was off somewhere leading so magnificent charge and it was off Raven's back the day would be won. What a terrible man, what a terrible Kingdom. "I can give you the power to satisfy your desires" the voice came back to him. "You need only give up your humanity and complete for me a task."

"Yes"

Raven's mind was focused again on the decrepit underground stronghold he now stood. Until several weeks ago he had not been conscious. Nothing existed of the twenty years between his resurrection and Nyarlathlotep's presence calling his mind back to sense. Nothing except a mindless, burning hatred and resentment. This being, sat upon its throne was Revenant's tool to get what he wanted. Whatever being had given him the powers he now wielded was of little consequence for under Nyarlathotep Raven would claim victory on the wretched core of Celakor.

He knelt before his new master, sword drawn and held vertically in front of his face, left arm formally hidden behind his back with chains rustling and armor creaking all the way down to the floor. "I am Raven von Stein, formally of the wretched Celakorian nobility. I am yours to command if it means an end them and their kin."

"You will be needed soon." The voice in the back of raven's mind said departing for now. Raven paid it no mind.

Aegis hated the rain.
Of couse, that wasn't unusual, considering there was almost nothing he did like. But still, he hated it a bit more strongly. He had been walking for days not, simply following the roads and going where they led him with no particular destination in mind. His companions were the wind, the occasional wild animal, and silence. He avoided other travelers and towns, perfering to forage for food. It was a lonly existance; one he constantly questioned if it was worth living. He was caught in the sudden downpour that showed no signs of stopping. By now, the road had turned to mud, and he carried half of the road on his boots with every step. "I hate the rain." He remarked to himself, a habit he had fallen into from spending so much time alone. "And the cold. But what do you know? It happens to be both."

Squish squish squish Went his boots as he plodded along. "Why don't I stop and wait out the rain?" Its not like I'm actualy trying to get anywhere." He asked himself. "True," He responded to himself. "It probably would be a good idea to stop and take shelter, but I have never been known for my good ideas." "No wise ass remarks from you." He told himself sternly. He tried humming a tune, but with all the rain and thunder, he couldn't hear it so he stopped. And he walked on.

Eventualy, he came to a large group of people milling about. "Who in their right mind would be out in a storm like this?" He wondered aloud. He checked to make sure his hood on his cloak was up (which it already was) as he walked closer. A flash of lightning illumiated the scene, reviling the black, charred remains of somthing. Rangers He realized as he got closer. He could smell a familiar smell, even through the storm. Smoke...and blood. He thought. That must have been a caravan that was attacked. Bandits, most likly. He tried to give the group a wide burth, made difficult by the fact that the rain was making the off-road ground almost impassable.

@IcePezz

It was rather unfortunate that the esteemed Castle Clandstein was so dreadfully far away from Haverford. Given, the trip took only a short amount of time, it was quite troublesome when he had business to take care of. As of late, there had been more meetings of the Kingsguard, requiring his attention at the Castle more frequently, but it also made it incredibly hard to keep up the business he had going on. But the meetings were understandable, with the times they lived in and the impending threat to the country and all that. Normally Khyssoun would be at the Castle full time, but as tensions were rising all over the Kingdom, he found that he had some business to take care of back at his old dwellings. It seemed there was a disrupt of the market, some unexpected suppliers were trying to set foot into his territory, and he certainly couldn't have that.

After taking some steps to eliminate the threats back in Haverford, Khyssoun decided to take a quick detour before returning to the Castle. There had been a... Delivery scheduled in the outskirts Merandin, and its contents were much to important to send some grunts to do the dirty work. He simply wanted to check up on the quality, and when he deemed it satisfactory, he arranged for several of his more trusted advisers to handle the transportation. But now with that out of the way, he began his final trip back to the Castle.

Usually, Khyssoun would insist on traveling with a party of at least his eight closest men, as a matter of principle, but he was in a bit of a rush, and decided against it. Instead, only two other men rode their horses beside him as they made the trip to the castle. They had left from Meandin a few days before, resting only when the night was too dark to travel through safely. And as the sun rose softly upon the horizon, Khyssoun knew their trip would soon come to an end.

Suddenly, a burning smell filled the air and tar black smoke came into view. The horses gave whinny and Khyssoun tightened his grip on the reigns, reaching up to calm it down. It seemed the King would have to wait.

"Forward." he commanded, looking back at his men only to receive a confirmation that they understood, "Spread out and find out what you can. Meet at the location of the smoke in thirty minutes." And upon his word, they parted, one dashing off into the brush and the other riding with him toward the smoke.

The town was utterly destroyed, the fields burned to a crisp and the ground littered with what he could only assume to be bodies. Looking over the damage, he dropped from his horse and handed his reigns to Cedric, the young knight was had followed him to the wreckage. He walked through the town, surveying the damage as he carefully sidestepped the charred remains of, well, of everything, he supposed. It seemed like the place was a farming village, though a small one, it would definitely make the surrounding counties take a hit. Whoever it was that committed such a crime wanted to make a lasting impression on the Kingdom.

Houses burned, some of them half standing, and other already piles of ash being swept away by the wind. Nothing and no one was spared, as far as the eye could tell. The sight was rather gruesome. Every body that wasn't burnt was ripped apart and the entrails were spread over the ground. Like some sort of demonic ritual, he couldn't help but note. But that wouldn't be all too surprising, there were far too many demons in the Kingdom than he would have liked.

Khyssoun frowned, clasping his hands behind his back. The land would be out of use for a long time. Not only would the soil be infertile, but people would be driven away for fear of another attack. And if one farming village was the victim of slaughter, it could easily be assumed that more farms would be under attack as well. The sound of hooves beating against the ground grabbed his attention, and he turned to find Brom galloping towards him. "My Lord" he wheezed, almost tumbling off his horse to get down on one knee, "The surrounding area is clear, the attackers are no where in sight."

Khyssoun nodded his thanks and motioned for his reigns from Cedric. He climbed upon his horse and turned it back upon the path, motioning them to follow his lead. "Come." he called, "The King would surely like to hear of this."

---

Arm in arm with Sariel, Lucinda enjoyed the pleasant walk back through the gorgeous garden. The sweet scent of the flowers wafted throughout the entire castle with the morning breeze; a pleasant experience for anyone lucky enough to be present at Castle Clandstein. The two of them strolled through the halls, intertwined with one another. Lucinda never felt safer than with Sariel, truly. A compassionate man first and foremost, and a mighty King second, he held all the qualities that befit a true monarch in Lucinda's eyes. As they approached the large, ornate oak doors of the dining hall, Sariel spoke of a surprise whilst he clasped the brass handle and pushed the door in. Lucinda very briefly wondered what the surprise could possibly be as she stepped foot, catching a glimpse of her children before something fell over her head, cascading her vision in darkness.

The sounds of one of the maids urgently shuffling their way over to the King and Queen could be heard even through the bucket.
"Your Majesty! Your Highness!" The woman's voice was muffled, and Lucinda gently lifted the bucket from her head with a blank expression. The maid fussed about her, making sure that the Queen wasn't injured by the little prank. Lucinda waved her off, insisting that she was fine, before approaching Rida as the young Princess smugly sat at the dining table. Her expression softened into a smile, and she gently stroked the Princesses' beautiful, long hair through her fingers.
"What a clever little contraption, my darling girl. Such an innovative mind as always; your grandfather would have been proud of your genius." Lucinda's grandfather, the former head of House Giséle was a man of science and magic. He was a pioneer in the art of magical healing and his discoveries had drastically redefined how humans could wield the power of sorcery to benefit their everyday lives. Rida was a free spirit, and a bit of a trouble maker; but every time she tormented her family with a wide array of traps and pranks, Lucinda couldn't help but see her father's inventive mind live on through her. The Queen only wished her daughter shared the same passion for learning that her youngest child, Lethonel did.

Lucinda stepped cautiously to the side, smiling at Lethonel before addressing one of the maids with a concerned tone.
"Would you be so kind as to retrieve my beautiful boys medicine for me?" The maid nodded, rushing off to the back of the room where a small, stained glass cabinet sat on an elegantly carved wooden table. With the turn of a key, the cabinet opened to reveal many crystal flasks with a thick, golden syrup swirling within. The concoction was one of Lucinda's designs. Ever since she became Queen, she had no need to return to work at the infirmary. When Lethonel's illness was discovered, the Queen was determined to use her medicinal knowledge to cure it. Unfortunately it was to no avail, but the medicine she had created offered temporary relief for the Princes fit of coughing.

Lucinda did her best not to pity her child, for she knew it would only hurt him further to be seen as weak by his own mother. So when she approached him, she spoke with the same amount of love in her voice that she held for all her children.
"It seems Rida has been causing you and your older brother some mischief. At least she was considerate enough to not fill the buckets with syrup." Lucinda quickly turned her head to Rida, pointing at her with a worried expression, "That is not an invitation! If you get syrup in my hair, I'll have all of yours cut off." It was an empty threat, meant in jest, but underneath it there was a very real concern that the Queen may have just doomed herself.

Turning her attention back to Lethonel, she popped open the flask containing the young boys medicine and gently placed it in front of him.
"Take it before you eat, sweetie. Your Father and I are counting on your strength to help us get through today." Lucinda kissed her son on the forehead, gently holding him close to her for a moment before standing up and moving over to Alistair, her eldest. Handsome and valiant, he so very much resembled Sariel in his youth. He was already a man, and Lucinda had been struggling with the idea of letting him go. She worried with every battle he fought, and the two of them often didn't see eye to eye when it came to Alistair's place on the battlefield. Lucinda, as much as she didn't want to admit it, was selfish. She didn't want to see Alistair die on the battlefield. It wasn't her life to dictate, and she knew this, but it didn't stop her from insisting that Alistair stay behind every time the crown went out to battle. Alistair refused every time, and every time he returned safely. Yet he could return from battle a million times without a scratch on him, and Lucinda would still worry. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling down at her son.
"Your father's court means well, but they will most certainly try and dismiss his plea today. I'm going to need your support today, since they will inevitably try and belittle my opinion on the subject and insist I take my leave." There was a very subtle hint of anger in her words. The court despised Lucinda, though they would never admit it. She insisted on attending every meeting, breaking the tradition of a submissive Queen who sits and does as she's told. Sariel had never once stopped her from attending, and so long as he was King then Lucinda would continue to have her voice heard at court. She dismissed the thought, not wanting to spoil the families morning.

Taking her seat near Rida, the Queen awaited her King's breakfast surprise.

"It cannot be... it cannot be." Lethonel gasped as his brother handed him a small beige-colored pouch that flopped softly in his hand. The smell alone was sign enough for the confection-craving prince that his older brother had been paying attention to his recent fancy when it came to sweets. A delicious blend of bananas, sugars, dough, and more presented itself through a generous and alluring scent that Lethonel inhaled quite greedily. These confections were his instant favorite once he tasted them sometime before when he left the castle walls to survey the kingdom's wells and water supplies. Lethonel reminisces back to when his nose caught wind of something illegally-delicious smelling. By the gods, who would have thought that the masses were able to produce such a masterpiece?! Thus, the sickly prince pursued that scent until he saw a small confectionery where these small cakes were being sold for a few pieces of copper. Lethonel bought a few, but within a span of a few... hours... he had already finished everything, and since he was already inside the castle by that time, the prince knew that he couldn't leave without a line of knights escorting him. Hence, his sweet days ended, and he had been pining to taste the ambrosia that were those small cakes in the outer ring of the kingdom. For his brother to have taken note of his secret cravings was beyond endearing, and Lethonel uttered not a word. There were no words, and there would never be any words sufficient enough to describe his gratitude and euphoria at receiving quite a simple yet delicious present. As what Lethonel was taught, actions speak louder than words. This propelled the prince to timidly approach his brother, and awkwardly smash his forehead softly against the taller man's abdomen. A wide, goofy smile snaked its way around Lethonel's face as his lips quivered in joy.

Then, he looked up at Alistair as he took a step back. As was tradition among males, Lethonel placed his right hand on the left side of his chest-- just above his heart. Then, he extended it towards Alistair, directing his fingers to point towards his brother-- a common replacement for the words 'I love you' when translated in words. Of course, it was awkward for males to say it openly, thus, that kind of non-verbal communication was born. Personally, Lethonel believes that that gesture was more meaningful than words; after all, the heart is more involved than when one speaks. Other than that, actions do speak louder than words, and besides, words failed to convey his real gratitude. Then, as he heard his parents' approach, Lethonel quickly spun around and tucked the mini-cake into his pocket before standing at attention beside the crown-prince.

Lo, and behold, the bearers of the sun and moon strode into the room, only for the curtain of twilight to immediately fall as Rida's bucket and prank fell into place. The room fell silent as the only sounds came from the maids who vehemently tried to assess the injuries from the prank-- which there were none, fortunately. Olive-green eyes traced the queen's graceful steps as she uttered not a word of disdain against the princess. Instead, his mother, as expected, remained as dignified and elegant as a monarch should be without even trying. The young prince had never seen his mother lose control of her emotions; her demeanor was cold as ice, but her heart remained warm and caring for them. Even if the sun rose at twilight, and the moon rose at dusk, there would be no worthier mother than queen Lucinda. He could only sigh in disappointment at himself at being born as a liability to such a perfect dualism of parenthood. As he looked at his parents, a glum feeling gripped at his heart. It would seem that his father was the moon, bringing light and hope to the eternal night. His mother was the sun, spreading life and warmth wherever she went. Alistair was personified as the sky, laying the foundation for the light and hope to pass through; and Rida was personified as the falling stars, inconsistent, but pure delight to whoever witnesses her.

And, here he was. So bound to the earth, so limited, and so chained. While his family soared and waltzed upon the cosmos, he was on Earth-- looking and observing them, only wishing to be able to fly as high as them. However, these negative thoughts were erased almost instantly as his mother approached him with a loving gaze in her eyes. Yes, Lucinda's stares could incite so many emotions in any individual, and in this case, it was affection. The prince leaned unto his mother's kiss, closing his eyes as he relished the care in her voice, and the gentleness of her touch. Then, his mother gave him a flask with golden liquid cascading within it. The prince remembered such a concoction-- it was used to alleviate his condition when the disease proved too much to bear. At one point, he had to drink two flasks to fully suppress a rather extreme attack from his lungs, causing immense pain to Lethonel whenever he coughed for three days. In other words, he only drank this medicine when there was something major or important event that was going to happen. It would seem that Lethonel would be joining such a meeting after all.

The prince lifted the brew to his lips, drinking it slowly until the contained was emptied. The weird taste caused Lethonel to shake his head softly before he began feeling such a strange lightness in his breathing. He raised the palms of his hands near his face, noticing how the paleness of them began to vanish and a new shade of a healthier color took residence. Lethonel could feel a strange strength in his muscles and bones, which produced a myriad of cracking sounds as he tested his limits. Finally, Lethonel released a contented sigh as he looked at his mother with such love and gratefulness. "Thank you, mother. It is always rare for me to feel this good." Lethonel remarked as he bowed his head in respect before noticing how his mother looked at Alistair-- almost as if she's afraid that something terrible might happen to the crown-prince. Still, as the greetings were done, Lethonel moved towards the grand table, motioning for his brother to follow.

Then, as he sat upon the chair, strange clicking sounds were heard as his vision was painted in black. A bucket had fallen straight upon his head, jolting the prince into hyper awareness. After a few seconds of motionlessness, Lethonel peeked from under the bucket as he burst out into a series of laughs that he could only perform when he had taken the medicine. "I do pray that this is not the same bucket I used when I threw up a few weeks ago, sister!" the prince heartily chuckled before he wiped the tears from his eyes as he removed the bucket from his head. "I'm sorry for my laugh," the prince remarked, placing the bucket near his chair. "... it's just that... we have never become this informal as of late."