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The company of riders moved at a steady pace across the paved white road that acted as one of the main highways to the imperial capital city of Lalrial. Named the Green Walk due to the tall sea of green grass that made up most of this area leading to the Velathi Mountain in the north. The day was cloudy but the high noon sun still managed to peek through the break in the clouds to cast an uncomfortable warmth on the travellers below. The wind was light but still granted a refreshing reprieve from the uncomfortable hot sun. A drastic change to the colder climes the imperial garrison troops of the Fifth Regiment were used to. The imperial banner of a white phoenix on a gold background above the old Ethican numeral letters below it clearly revealed them as state troops. The banner held aloft in the hands of the rearmost rider.

The small party was lead by a single man, his gold cloak hemmed with white joined to the segmented plate armor of an imperial officer was indication enough as to his rank. While his silver eyes and ashen hair gave away that he was of the imperial line. Jakinius Valarien Centurion of the 8th company sat in silence as he contemplated the letter he had received late las night. A hastily written missive that had all but begged him to return to the capital quickly. Sent by a man he did not know yet he felt the importance of that short note all the same. Plotting in the capital? Well, even his limited experience in the political scene told him that was nothing new. So what then? Surely something was amiss and he would not find the answers until he had arrived in Lalrial proper.

As his mind dwelled on this he was brought crashing back to reality from his dark thoughts when one of his men shouted something. On instinct and nerves still high from the skirmish but a few days prior Jakinius hand went to his sword's pommel. However, he spotted what the man was been pointing at. A small escort consisting of a few horsemen and two carriages. Jakinius raised a hand above his eyes to shield them from the sun as he looked ahead. Sure enough, it looked to be an entourage of some lord. The livery consisting of a deep all green.

Who's colors were.... Ah yes, he remembered suddenly. How he could he forget the colors of House Caernavir? He raised a hand and called for his men to hold steady. He looked to his Lokhagos, Metinnus Jaroaria, then shifted his gaze to Lynette giving them both an inquiring look.

Metinnus merely shrugged in response.

“Friends of your’s?” Lynette asked. Despite her relaxed stance, she kept her hand close to her sword’s hilt.

"We shall see," Jakinius responded.

As the imperial riders neared the unknown escort they slowed until they reach a fork in the road. The other path leading the rest of the way to the capital. Riding ahead of his men and his hands visible as to not alarm the horsemen around the carriages Jakinius raised his hands.

"Hail friends! From where hence do you tread?" He began in the common travelers greeting. Where custom often obliged the other party respond by stating their origin and, if they were so inclined, their destination or purpose.

As the green-clad party approached, the figures became more distinct. Two stallions swaggered ahead of the carriages. One of them carried the unmissable figure of Aethlar, King of Gwethydd. He had a strong, square and clean-shaven jaw, with two laughing green eyes and a rush of earthy brown hair. His face was youthful and unlined by age or stress and loaned a regal air by his aquiline and imposingly tall stature. Around his head, he wore the simple, emerald-studded silver circlet that was affectionately known as the ‘travel crown’ amongst the Caernavir. He was clad in finely gilded steel armour, and at his belt, he wore a long, silvery blade in a scabbard, with a hilt studded with a spray of gemstones.

The figure beside him was much slimmer, perched much less comfortable in the saddle. Lord Gaewin’s hair was silvery-blonde, his eyes piercing blue, and he was not clad in armour but in the tight-fitting black robes of the Eldva University.

“Hark,” cried King Aethlar boisterously. “If it ‘tis not the next Emperor on his way to claim his throne,” He laughed, the loud gaiety echoing down the Green Walk. “Do you not recognise the King of the Gwethyns?”

The carriages too now rumbled to a halt, their small accompaniment of leather-clad horseback warriors also slowing to meet the pace. The larger of the carriages was enamelled with green decorations and seemed large enough to hold four. “I travel with my good-brother here, Lord Gaewin di Fiz-Caernavir, and my sisters, mewling hiders that they are in their carriages,” Aethlar inclined his head carefully, clapping Gaewin on the shoulder so firmly that he almost fell out of the saddle. Gaewin readjusted himself, then gave a bow. “Your Highness,”

Jakinius inclined his head toward Gaewin as he was introduced, "but of course, I knew I recognized the livery of honored House Caernavir."

A raised gloved hand from Jakinius called for a halt among his own men. The unspoken command also allowed the company of the imperial company to visibly relax. Even this deep in the heartlands they were still jumpy. Understandable given their less than ideal luck thus far. This close it would be evident to the Gwethyn's how worn and weathered the imperial troops were.

Where King Aethlar and his men seemed fresh, and their armor shined. Jakinius's men seemed hardened as they sported equipment that carried dents, scratches and marks, with their traveling cloaks seeming discoloured and even the iconic red plume of their helmets seemed lackluster compared to the regiments of the south. Jakinius himself seemed royalty mostly in name. The prince of Ethica sat tall on his destrier, the white stallion gifted to him by Ulrich after the skirmish in Lorwood. He had the bearings of a nobleman sure; though it seemed misplaced given his rough appearance. His own armor was just as worn as his men, the faint hint of lines under his eyes from a life of standing watch even in the depths of night were visible. His dark silver-eyed gaze still remained strong, however, his face possessing a beard allowed to grow longer than was custom in the south.

His once silver hair more an almost dark ashen color that seemed to no longer possess the vibrancy of youth. Still even with the grime and dirt of the road, his face still possessed a rugged handsomeness to it. The hint of a smile on his lips Jakinius continued, "I pray you forgive our wariness. My men have sadly run afoul during our trek to the capital. "

Turning his head to one side he gestured, "I see you recognize me, so I would introduce you to Princess Lynette of House Zarand. As well as my Lokhagos, Metinnus Jaroaria."

Metinnus bowed his head respectively, "milord."

Jakinius added, "I would wager you no doubt make way to Lalrial for the election. If you would so honor us, perhaps we may make the rest of the journey together?"

Aethlar inclined his head, and gave a sweeping bow in his saddle to Princess Lynette. “You have seen action?” He asked tentatively, examining the battle-worn appearance of his newfound travel companions. “Was it a successful action?” He stirred excitedly in his saddle. Gaewin cast a glance at the nearest soldier, who spurred his horse and knocked the handle of his sword delicately onto the doors of the two carriages.

They swung upon almost simultaneously, but the farther occupant was the first to make her appearance known. From the second, a handmaiden hopped down, placing a small cushion on the floor so that the Princess inside did not have to sully her feet.

Eadgifu, on the other hand, hung out of the carriage window flirtatiously, a cascade of silvery-blonde hair tracing down its side. Her eyes, like Gaewin’s, were an icy blue, but she had obviously inherited the physicality of her half-brother the king; she was buxon, with plump lips and a flirtatious smile. “If it not our next Emperor,” She called breathily,. “I would bow, your highness, but I am afraid I might fall,”

Gaewin scowled, his stern features offering a fiery glance to his sister, who giggled again, tossed her hair, and withdraw back into her carriage. Aethlar shrugged non-commitally. “My apologies for her. This is her first foray unto the capital,” He explained delicately. “My hope is to find suitable husbands for my sisters, and perhaps,” the King added, eyeing Gaewin skeptically. “...a wife for my brother,” The blackclad bastard bristled noticeably as he closed up his sister into her carriage.

The occupant of the other carriage now stepped delicately down. Haldetrude was much less assuming than her siblings, but possessed more of a regal grace, and her verdant eyes contained something much more potent than those of her brother. She offered the Prince a gracious smile and a smaller curtsey. “Your Highness, it is such a remarkable honour and coincidence to meet you on this road,” She said with a smile. Her plain features were illuminated with her grace, but her words sounded rehearsed and carefully placed, her smile somehow taut and thin. When she met Jakinius’ gaze, it was almost as if he was looking into the eyes of her mother back in Harskmoor.

Aethlar spurred his horse up towards Jakinius and clapped him bodily on the shoulder, as he seemed wont to do. “We will ride with you! Perhaps we shall have occasion to bloody our swords once more, eh? Elections and politicking is dull. I leave that to my brother, Lethlin. ‘Tis no thing for a kingdom to be ruled by a pencil-pusher…” He barked an impetuous laugh. When he looked at Jakinius it was with a mixture of hope, as if he was boyishly waiting for approval from a bigger boy on the training yard. Princess Haldetrude rolled her eyes when no-one was watching, gathered up her black skirts, and disappeared back into the carriage, the door whispering shut behind her. Inside, she unfurled the missive written in the spidery handwriting of Princess Alissera once again and shut out the noise of the men outside.

Smiling for a moment for the sake of politeness Jakinius responded with, "one would certainly hope we will not have a need to shed more blood on the way to Lalrial. Four years in the north and I believe I might welcome the dullness of court politics."

The prince noted the raised eyebrow of Metinnus when Aethlar was not looking. His face saying what he did not need to utter out loud. Jakinius knew his Lokhagos had little patience for the lords of the south. And sadly Aethlar very well embodied everything he disliked about them into one man. Admittedly Jakinius himself held little regard for the stereotypical southern lords either. He still liked to think he judged each man he met by their own merit and not their background. That said, King Aethlar was doing little to disprove those stereotypes.

Metinnus chimed in, "I would agree, as to the outcome of that action we ran into. I dare say it might have turned sour if not for the timely intervention of House Amrothan’s Bannerguards."

“I do feel that I owe House Amrothan an official thank you of sorts for their role in pulling us out of that fire” Lynette added. “Perhaps I’ll send them some of our finer weapons.” She flashed Metinnus a look when she thought Aethlar wasn’t looking; she honestly didn’t have much patience when it came to green-bellied southerners.

“Lord Aethlar, you mentioned something about finding a husband for your sisters.” She hoped to change the subject away from anything even vaguely linked to war. “Perhaps one of my brothers might be a match? One of them is in the capital already, serving as my homeland’s prime magistrate. Unfortunately, the other had to remain home. Someone has to maintain the frontlines after all.”

Aethlar visibly bristled slightly at being referred to as a ‘lord’, but in the back of his mind put it down to the rugged backwardness of northerners. He adopted his characteristic smile and nodded when Lynette spoke.

“Haldetrude is the better match; Eadgifu is a bastard,” He conceded. There was a heavy thumping noise from the second carriage and a muffled shout: “I heard that, you shave pate girl-man!”, which the entire Gwethyn congregation graciously ignored. Gaewin shot the king a sideways glance. “What sort of brides do your brothers seek? I worry my sister’s constitution is too delicate to be faced with barbarians in the wintry north.

“My moth-- I think that the best option would be to settle Haldetrude nearby and send Eadgifu to the north or somewhere such as that. She is of sturdier stock, and she is less likely to cause trouble than she would be in the capital,” He continued amiably.

“I should be happy to make a marriage treaty with your house, Princess. I see sixteen ships leave from Farlook Post a week, laden with various goods, and returning laden again,” He offered a diplomatic smile. “Gwethydd is eternally grateful for the service rendered unto this Empire by those who guard its most northerly reaches. It allows men like me to joust and feast, and men like him,” He jerked a thumb at his half-brother. “To sit in dusty libraries all day!”

“I like her” Lynette commented with a raised eyebrow as she looked back at the second carriage. She let a small smile form on her lips as she turned back to Aethlar. “I assure you,” She continued, “that any sister you might send to the north would be perfectly safe. The danger is not in our larger cities, but in the small towns and villages in the northern reaches of our lands.”

“My brother Kardos,” She said after a slight pause, “Is the Lord and Protector of Chave, the northernmost city of note and arguably our land’s most vital fortress. He is a warrior and leader of no small repute despite his younger age. And I am sure” She continued “that he would cherish any wife who could aid him in maintaining his court up in Chave.”

“As for my other brother,” Lynette let out a long sigh, “perhaps you should save your sister for a better match.”

“It would not trouble your brother Kardos to marry a bastard?” Aethlar asked with a raised eyebrow. “I do not think Haldetrude would survive a northern winter…” He paused momentarily. “Is your other brother like to leave my sister a maid for the rest of her life?” The king said carefully, casting another sideways glance at Gaewin and smirking.

“I do appreciate this spirit of amity. I must write back to my mother to confirm the proceedings; perhaps we can draw some sort of documentation up once we reach the capital,” The Green King sighed. “I fear that the time we spend there will be trying on all of us who do not care to do naught but backstab, plot and scheme. Honest people do not bode well in imperial politics,” He obviously thought that there was some sort of affinity between himself and the other two nobles, who spent much more of their time in the more straightforward north.

Jakinius seemed grateful enough to have the topic change from the skirmish. The memory of those he had lost still weighing on his mind. He, of course, had little to add in the talk of marriage politics though he was wise enough to keep track of what was spoken. It paid to be savvy of the often times confusing twisting webs of marriage alliances that the Arch Electors wove about the realms provinces between themselves. Jakinius trained alertness had also caught -- perhaps-- more than a few telling hints as to who might pull the strings in the kingdom of Gwethydd. Few kings needed to check with anyone else but their inner council after all.

"In that, we can agree on," he said as King Aethlar vocalized his aversion for court intrigues. "I pray things do not spiral into the realm of distasteful in the coming days."

"To that end," Metinnus said turning his attention to Aethlar, "if it would please you, your majesty-- I would ask on the current state of affairs here in the southern provinces. You are the first Arch Elector we have met thus far and I profess a level of curiosity on where the electors south of the Dead peak mountains stand."

Jakinius almost frowned a bit at this but, he understood his old friends motives well enough. Besides Jakinius was far too courteous a man himself to breach the subject, yet he knew any information gleaned now could aid his cause.

If Aethlar was struck unawares by the question, however, he did not show it. He gazed out over the horizon for a moment. “Gwethydd’s last harvest was record. We are producing more wine, more art, and more learning every day it seems. I am brought news of great technological developments from the Eldva University in Harksmoor each day. Coffers seem to be overflowing in many of my neighbouring kingdoms; and I fear that may be your problem,” He paused. “Prosperity breeds complacency. It seems most of the other Electors in this part of the Empire want nothing more than to continue to line their pockets with as much gold as possible. That is a dangerous philosophy, and I fear it could cause discord and strife in the upcoming elections,”

“Your arrival is well-timed, and not a moment too soon. Your siblings have been engaged in politicking for some time now. They have not approached me; I assume it is because they took my vote as a foregone conclusion,” Aethlar paused momentarily. “There are rumours that not all of you will come out of this alive,”

“Your father’s reign was occasionally difficult for those of us who resided close to the Imperial centre. My father used to say it felt like there was a void. You must be magnanimous in your arrival into the city, if you ask me, so that you can fill that void. This Empire needs a man who can swing a sword to guide its way. We need someone that we can rally behind - not a savvy intriguer,” Aethlar nodded determinedly. “...and what of the north? Is it secure in your absence?” He asked, almost sounding half-excited to hear news from the more rugged provinces.

Metinnus smiled grimly, "well it seems your work is cut out for you Jakinius. "

“I cannot speak for Nordevar or the Septentrion,” Lynette said, “But so long as Kardos holds Chave you can be confident that Acitha will remain secure. He is a good commander, has access to some of the north’s best troops, and is holding our greatest fortress; he’ll hold out for an eternity if he needs to.”

“I’ve also left some of my best subordinates in the region” Oktavia commented as she moved to the front of the convoy. “Pardon my intrusion Your Highness,” She said with a sort of half bow to Aethlar. “I am Arch Commander Oktavia of the Sisters of the Silver Shield.”

The King of Gwethydd inclined his head respectfully to Oktavia. “I have heard much of the good work that your order does. It is an honour to meet a warrior of such status as far south as this,” He turned to Lynette. “I am glad. I meant no offence by my questioning; it seems to me that most everyone is suddenly rushing south. I wanted to make sure you had remember to leave somebody behind!” He said with another raucous laugh.

"I shall keep such advice in mind," Jakinius said with a nod. "As for the northlands, I would love nothing more than to say the situation in the Northern provinces is sufficient."

He sighed as he sat straighter in his saddle, "The northern garrisons have never been as poorly equipped as they are now. Understaffed, poorly funded, and even to this day we still feel the gap left by the fall of Duke Carles and Yarlo Valarien. The Nordheim grow bolder by the day, their reavers sailing further and further south each season. I'd have not left at all had circumstances not convinced me things needed to change in the empire as a whole to address the issues we face. At the moment, the capable imperator Selbrio Ohollian remains in the north to make certain things do not collapse further. I can only hope my visit to Lalrial does not turn into a waste of time."

Aethlar suddenly seemed to be struck with a bolt of inspiration. “I shall send a detachment, post-haste. The soldiers of Gwethydd are not often deployed in such frigid conditions, but with proper equipment and furs they should manage well enough. I warrant that nothing that the Nordheim have developed can fire an arrow as far and true as a Gwethyn longbow,” He said, then paused. “They shall be dispatched as soon as I return to Harksmoor. You needn’t worry about feeding them; their rations will come directly by ship,” Gaewin seemed impressed by this quick thinking from his half-brother, nodding along with each of his words.

“Let it never be said that Gwethydd has ever been anything but loyal to the Empire. The sooner this business is over the better. When your family tears itself apart, it is wont to tear chunks off of my kingdom too,” Aethlar said grimly.

“I shall send word back to my homeland to prepare for their arrival then” Lynette chimed in. “We’ll gather enough furs for your men at the very least.” A smile formed on her lips. It was an honest surprise for a southerner to actually freely offer to send aid north.

“And maybe some Acithan steel weapons for your better warriors,” Lynette added after a moment. “Do tell me, do your men prefer swords, spears, or some other type of melee weapon?”

“We fight as skirmishers, usually, on the field,” Aethlar considered briefly for a moment. “Spears are common, but short-swords and hand-axes will not be misused if they are what is available,” He said after a moment’s contemplation. “I shall write the missive to my mother as soon as I arrive safely into the capital,”

Jakinius seemed genuinely impressed by this news, "Arch Elector Aethlar you do yourself and realm a service in this pledge. Even should my visit to the capital end without obtaining the majority vote. I shall still deem my mission a success knowing there are kings of the south such yourself who embody the spirit of this empire and are willing to do what is needed to safeguard her lands. Regardless of what may assail her."

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The cold winds born from the raging storm outside the homestead seemed like the screams of a thousand banshees. Having braved the winds to reach the remarkably warmer interior of the longhouse, King Guld ‘Spleeneater’ Redeagle made his way through the hall walking around the large fire pit, kicking his way past men still half asleep and wrapped in their furs. More than a few sleeping off a powerful hangover from their recent revelry. He smacked the head of one fool who was currently collapsed over the armrest of his throne. The lad mouthed an apology and stumbled to the ground. Good enough. The Jarl made a slow turn to take in the sight of the hall. Goblets, mugs, barrels once filled with mead- all were scattered here or there along with a couple of plates, forks, and knives. Most of the silverware having been plundered from the southern lands years back. Guld fell back into his wooden throne and rested his great bearded head on a fist as large as the heads of most men as he brooded over tomorrow's preparations for the reaving of the south.

Since the day Jarl Guld had crushed the previous King in a contest of arms- gutting the old fool with Guld’s trusted runesteel axe Epotosi- he had made inroads that had restored and united much of the Graeling tribe on the shores of the Black Sea. The warriors of the western shore had never been as strong as they were now. The Kurgans had been dealt with, the Vargs humbled, and now dozens of warriors had flocked to his banner to join his shield wall. Two years prior he had sailed far south, scything the southern shores and probing their defences. He had been surprised at how lax the south had become with their own war vessels. It seemed each month they were fewer and fewer on patrol. His only regret had been he had lacked the manpower to exploit this sudden weakness of the empire. It had been an opportunity he had promised himself he would never miss again.

He had managed to return north laden down with all manner of plunder those two years ago that he had managed to acquire through strength and cunning. With promises of wealth, honor, prestige, and the possibility of a fight worthy of Kregnihalla, dozens of clans had promised to pledge their own warriors to the great expedition. Along with practically all the thanes of his tribe. Every Jarl of the Graeling tribe had made the journey to Skar, the largest port on the west-northern shores. Such a gathering had not been seen in centuries, the south would never know what was coming for them. At that moment the great doors to his hall suddenly bent open again and forcefully enough that the doors smacked against the walls they were affixed to. Even if he had not been staring straight ahead he would have known who had entered his halls. Vigdrior Redeagle was the spitting image of her mother, and she held the same angry cast and strength of arm as did her father. Guld himself.

As tall as most southern men, her prowess in battle easily matched if not outstripped that of most warriors, and she possessed a skill with both axe and sheild that might impress even the great god Olric himself. Guld could not help but feel proud of his daughter's accomplishments...but also wary of them as well. Thankfully Vigdrior The Blood Raven seemed to have little ambition towards her father's crown. She had thus far remained the ever loyal daughter and thane. At least, until her father showed signs of weakness...

Yet such a time was far in the future by Guld's reckoning. At his daughter's back were her shield-maidens. Equally ferice looking warrioresses all of whom possessed no small skill at arms. Vigdrior made a face upon seeing the many men and women still prone about the great hall sleeping off their stupor. She made a beeline to her father, beating a few drunks out of the way with not so gentle kicks from her trollhide boots.

"Father," Vigdrior began once she was in comfortable earshot, "I've returned from Skrogbul. Jarl Frealaf of The Vargs has finally arrived with his promised war pledge. Some hundred longships have been spotted a snows shadow from the coast."

Guld perked up at this as he stood straighter in his seat, his mouth widening into a savage smile. "Jarl Frealaf has finally come true on his promise has he? The fool milk-drinker has kept me waiting for days. About damn time."

Frealaf was perhaps the youngest and newest Jarls to come into power in the western regions of Nordheim. A man young enough to desire to prove himself both in battle and as a leader. He was a Varg, true, but it was because of his new status Guld predicted he could trust the young Jarl to keep his promise to unite his warriors to the Warhird. It seemed Guld's instincts had been right after all. Things were proceeding along nicely. There was no other Jarl who held nearly as many ships in his fleet.

Vigdrior nodded once in agreement, "his timing is less than desirable but he has at least come through...as to King Styrmir Rimefrost and his giant kin, there has been no word."

Guld frowned but had expected as much. "Bah, the old fool can stay in his ice fortress then and wither away for all I care. With the Varg's we have the strength we need to set out at long last." Guld rose to his feet, cracking his neck as he did. "Send word to Haraldur, Ulfar and the other Wolfclaws! We will make the last preparations --for tomorrow, we sail at the blood of dawn."

Judging from his atitude alone it would be impossible to tell just how badly beaten Aldrick had been the previous day. He was lounging in his favorite couch, surrounded by no small number of beauties, both local and imported. In one hand he held a glass of wine, the other could be fond groping the behind of one of 'his' beauties. His laughter could be heard from well down the hall as he enjoyed his day of 'recuperation'.

"You have a guest Lord Aldrick" One of his shield sister guards said from beyond the room's door.

"You may let her in" Aldrick answered as one of his companions placed a grape between her lips and leaned in towards him.

But rather than another woman or group of women it was instead a man who strode confidently into the room. A man who instantly seemed to draw the attention of several of Aldrick's beauties, though who seemed to look through them as if they were not there as his crimson eyes fixed upon the object of his visit, the lord of debauchery himself, who seemed to be rivaled only by the man's cousin Marra.

He was clad in the latest style that did well to highlight his athletic and fit form, with a fashionable and dashing cloak of sorts that billowed out behind him as he strode forward into the room. “Prince Aldrick of Athica. It is my pleasure to meet you.” The red haired man bowed in a single sweeping motion before he straightened up with a grin. “I am Lord Vorion Tallurian, perhaps Marra hast spoken of me?”

"Hold that thought" Aldrick said before the woman with a grape between her lips leaned in close for a kiss, pushing the grape into his mouth in the process. Before she could pull away he wrapped a hand around the back of her head to force the kiss for a bit longer. "Now then" He said after letting the blushing woman end the kiss, "I do believe she did mention you. How can I help you? Oh, and do keep in mind I don't share with other men very well."

Vorion Tallurian stopped as requested, waiting until the other man had finished his display of affection and turned back to him before speaking once more, his eyes seemed to stare through the women that Aldrick had gathered. "I have come to seek your aid in my quest to court the fair Lynette, long have I laboured to gain her affection and thus far it tragically eludes me." The man's plee sounded genuinely heartfelt. "Cousin Marra insisted I see you for advice."

"So let me make sure I'm understanding you" Aldrick said with a raised eyebrow. "You've come to me, the day after I was severely beaten, in order to request my aid so that you may conduct the Battle of Balls Deep with my sister." He let that statement hang in the air for a moment before allowing a wide smile to spread across his battered face. "I like you."

"Would you be a dear" Aldrick said to one of the beauties waiting on him, "and fetch my friend a glass of wine?"

"Now then friend" He returned his attention to Vorion as the woman walked over to his wine cabinent. "Would you care to tell me why you seek my sister's affection?"

Vorion Tallurian found himself smiling as well as Aldrick joked. Though his smile was more wistful and less a laughing grin as if he was imagining the very thing that was somewhat crudely alluded too. “Why of course.” He began in reply.

“My armored goddess of battle revealed herself to me when upon my journey to your fair land my party was set upon by a foul band of monstrous vilespawn. There were so many that I'd have sworn the end was nigh and that I would not live to see the blessed sun rise again.” The handsome man paused to take the wine glass from the woman and gestured with it dramatically yet carefully, keeping anything from spilling.

“But then she appeared, a savior, sent by the gods themselves to slay the foul beasts that beset us. And it was then that I knew.” He drank deep from the wine glass before continuing. “I grew to know her on the journey back to your capital, but though I tried she did not see me as more than a friend. And now for my own arts have failed I now seek the aid of any who can help me win my fair lady's heart.”

"Hmmm... Well she always has been good with a sword" Aldrick commented after a moment. "So much so that at times I wonder if she is more man than woman." He muttered the words as he, apparently, shifted his gaze to a woman, beckoning her to refil his glass of wine. Even so he kept his attention on Vorion, eager to see how he responded.

As Aldrick spoke the Tallurian seemed to stiffen and a harsh almost murderous expression appeared on his handsome features at the criticism of his idol. "She is the fairest creature that I have ever set eyes upon. More woman than any of these." He swept his hand out expansively as if to gesture to the whole group of Aldrick's 'beauties'.

"No need to get so mad" Aldrick rolled his eyes. "If anyone has the right to poke fun at my sister its me." He gave Vorion and a pointed look. "Its her brother's duty to ensure she doesn't get a fathead. Lyriel save us all should both of my older siblings suffer from overonfidence and a superiority complex." He took a long sip of his wine before adding "And no. I will not enter a debate with you as to whether my own sister is as beautiful as any lady I choose to be intimate with." He couldn't help but shiver slightly. "The mere thought of that topic makes me gag a little."

"Putting that aside" Aldrick took another long sip of wine before continuing "I do want my sister to be happy. Perhaps you will be able to aid me in this endevor."

The Tallurian seemed to spend a moment considering and then nodded as if to concede the point. "You have a point, but you would not want me to belittle the ones you love, I would entreat you to extend to me the same courtesy good prince." Vorion's own charming smile reappeared then as he raised the glass for another drink.

"It is my fondest wish and deepest desire to bring happiness to the fair Lynette." His words dripped with sincerity and he had the air of one petitioning for aid. "Cousin Marra said you would help me." He seemed reluctant to play the card but Marra had told him that her name would work wonders with Aldrick and that Aldrick would be key to gaining his fair lady's affections.

"I suppose I could lend you a hand in your endeavor" Aldrick said. "Seeing as you care for her so much its the least I could do." He frowned as he stared at the wall, his eyes seeming to focus on nothing. "I know your cousin will be holding many parties in the days to come. I could ensure that my dear elder sister accompanies me to one such party. That should, at the very least, give you an opportunity to gain her ear and hopefully her heart."

"I would be most appreciative." The red haired man replied with an easy smile still on his features. "It has been difficult to gain her attention. In my attempts in the north I would make progress only to be stymied when the siren song of war called to her once more."

"Hmm... Why does that not surprise me" Aldrick said with a sigh. "Oh. And I will make sure she leaves her armor and sword at home." A wry smile spread across his face "This is one battlefield that those will do her no good." He took a long sip of his wine and, having finally emptied the glass, handed it to one of the women. "And in case you were wondering" He added, "My sister does not enjoy wine like your cousin and I do. You may want to find some other trinket to give to her. Should you wish to present a gift to her that is."

"As fond as I of her armored form, I confess gratitude at the prospect of the chance to behold her without such things." Vorion replied and then laughed. "She will find herself upon my battlefield and I shall prevail." The man did not quite strike a pose but he came close to doing so, likely for dramatic effect.

"Of course I must find the right gift, it is only fitting that such a goddess be presented a worthy token of my appreciation. Perhaps you could provide such guidance?"

"No swords" Aldrick pointed his finger at Vorion as if to accuse him of some great crime. "Axes, spears, knives are all items I forbid. What she already has is probably superior to anything that could be found here anyways. I also forbid buying her armor." He made a wiping gesture with his hand as he continued "Now with that out of the way... Perhaps you would care to buy her a dress? I fear she might be lacking in fine apparal during her stay here in the capital." He let the thought hang for a moment before adding "In fact she will probably only have plain dresses available to her. Perhaps you should ask your cousin to find something nice for Lynette? Something with a lot of lace in it? I could forward my sister's measurements to Marra if you'd like."

"That sounds like a good idea." The man seized upon the thought immediately. "I shall spare no expense. Only the finest for the fair Lynette." He gestured again with a grin. "And I am sure Marra will help, she has been most supportive thus far." After a brief pause Lord Vorion continued a bit less over the top than many of his statements had been. "I thank you for your aid Prince Aldrick."

"And I thank you for giving me some small hope that I will live to see my sister married." Aldrick answered in kind.

_____

A gentle breeze carried Edgar’s mantle as he walked the gardens of the Duvards’ Heartlands estate. They'd used this property regularly when he was still a boy; when his parents and would-be in-laws met to discuss matters between their lands, and to determine which of their children to marry off. He remembered his siblings and the Valarien children playing amongst these flowers, and tried to picture himself running in-between the rows of lionheads at knee-height.

“Brings back memories, doesn't it?” he said, finally. He turned to Sopshi, whose arm was linked around his. “When I was first told we were to marry, I thought I’d gift you with a bundle of flowers from the garden. I got a swift reprimanding from the caretakers when they'd seen their handiwork ruined. How was little me supposed to know they weren't for picking?”

Sophsi laughed, “I had no idea either.” With a flourish she lifted a lone lionhead with her free hand and twirled it under her nose.

“Smells pretty though,” she mentioned slightly absentmindedly.

“I can think of something prettier,” Edgar pondered aloud. He smiled as he watched Sophsi breathe the plant’s aroma, whose petals matched her locks of gold.

“How did your visit with your father go? I suspect his duties have kept him busy, especially with the passing of Emperor Taramyth.”

“He is understandably devastated. It ached my heart,” Sophsi let the flower glide to the grassy floor.

She turned to her husband, letting a hint of depression break from tired eyes, “he is also wondering about hiers.”

Edgar let out a sigh. “I figured he’d ask about that again. Does he know? About our… complication?”

Sophsi scrunched her face defensively, “I don’t think it is anyone’s business.”

“No, I suppose not,” Edgar answered with a shrug, “but he is your father. As your own blood, I think it might be his right.” The prince’s eyes drifted unconsciously to Sophsi’s abdomen. They’d given it their best, but fate already claimed one of their would-be children. The decision to put their effort on hold was mutual.


“I’d understand if the news disappointed him. But he’s spent his whole life anticipating a grandchild. Don’t you think it would be harsh to keep him waiting for one who’ll never come?”

“It could come,” Sophsi folded her arms across her chest, almost as if fighting a chill, “we could at some point -- you know -- bring an heir.”

Edgar eyed his wife with a worried face. “Sophsi… If it happened again… do you think you could face that for a second time? I know we can’t predict the future, but we’ve already tried so hard.”

“I don’t think I can face it for a second time,” Sophsi admitted, letting her arms slip to her sides, “there has to be another way, to you know, make sure.”

“I’ll see if any of the magi academies can help. If anyone could, it’d probably be them.” Edgar put a reassuring hand around Sophsi’s shoulder. “If you’re serious about giving it another try, I’m right beside you.”

“Just please be discreet,” Sophsi squeezed Edgar’s hand, “please.”

“Of course,” Edgar promised. The two of them stood there for several moments, Sophsi’s chin tucked over Edgar’s shoulder. The garden was so calm, and seeing the bees go about their work gave Edgar and odd sense of reassurance. If all of Ethica was like this, maybe everyone would forget about the warring and the politicking.

The peace was broken by a “My liege! My liege!” Edgar spun to see a courtier jogging near, waving a hand. “Lord Edgar! Terrible news from Ignis.”

“What is it?” Edgar asked, face suddenly pale.

“It’s Valoderro; the hamlet’s been wiped off the map by an army of vilespawn. It’s on the move east, toward the Xandrian border. If it’s kept loose, more villages will be in jeopardy.” Edgar swore. The vilespawn of Ignis had been largely dormant until now. A fine time to awake too, on the coming of the election.

“Any word from my father? Guillame? Have troops been mobilized yet?”

“One can assume the king is doing what he can for his people. He’s given you instructions to stay here and oversee the situation in Lalrial. He and Guillame will deal with the vilespawn.”

“Dammit, I should be there instead of Guillame,” Edgar muttered. “That is all?”

“That’s it, my liege. Worry not, Guillame’s become a strong lad. Lord Roman will take care of him.” The man gave Edgar a bow, then turned and left the couple to the garden.

It was Sophsi’s turn to comfort her spouse as she patted his shoulders, letting her own worries fade in her mind ever so slightly. Mustering herself she offered words of comfort, “the fine men of Ignis won’t let this continue, you know that as well as I.”

Edgar linked his hands around Sophi’s waist, giving her a solemn smile. “I know they won’t. Father trusted us with out duties in Lalrial. I can only do the same for Guillame.”

“I suppose we should go do our duties then,” Sophsi remarked, her lips hinting at a smile.

[@Arsto] (posted)

Following Vorion Tallurian’s visit Aldrick had decided that he had had his fill of debauchery for the day. He still lounged on his couch, with a pair of local beauties waiting on him, but his attention had turned away from them in favor of some of the work he had allowed to pile up over the past few days. Reports, missives, letters to minor nobles, and thgfs typehe like were spread out on a nearby table. He was reading one such report while sipping on a glass of wine when one of his guards stationed outside of the room informed him he had yet more guests.

“Umm… Allow them in” He said with a raised eyebrow. He hadn’t recalled requesting the company of more women, though he certainly wouldn’t refuse.

The usual silver hair of a Valarien first popped through the door before the rest of its owner walked in expectantly. Allianna Valarien soon stood in front of the open door, the darker Gowa standing behind her. A slight look of concerned was on Allianna’s face as she took her first steps inside the room, “I had heard about everything!”

“Your Grace!” Aldrick set the report he was reading down and straightened in his seat. “I can not express how much joy it brings me to have you visit me in my home. Could I offer you some wine?” His two servants were already pouring a glass of Aldrick’s finest wine for Allianna and her companion. “Please have a seat. And please introduce me to your fair companion.”

“I am Gowa Valarien,” the woman announced. Next to the regally dressed Allianna she stood in contrast,with a white gambit and dark boots clinging to her athletic figure. Allianna quickly accepted the wine while Gowa introduced herself in her very abrupt manner.

“Yes, well,” Allianna continued, “how are your injuries? I was very worried when the news came to me.”

“I have mostly recovered thanks to Lady Marra’s efforts.” Aldrick said. All things considered he still looked like he had been roughed up fairly badly. “Thankfully my arm has healed nicely” He moved his left arm and despite wincing in pain was able to move it as if it had never been broken. “Still it's not an experience I wish to repeat.”

“Has the local shield sister chapter spoken to you yet in regards to this incident?” Aldrick asked.

“Oh no,” Allianna answered, “I haven’t heard a thing. Gowa had taken it upon herself to be my escort from now on though.”

“Not as much taken as offered hastily,” Gowa smiled at Allianna, invoking a subtle frown from the other woman.

“But I am glad to hear you are doing better,” Allianna quickly changed the subject.

“I had asked them to offer you their protection” Aldrick said with a frown. “My friends in the order have informed me that those who were captured during my assault gave up Lord Ralltene’s name during interrogation. Couple that with the fact that Lord James was also a supporter of your’s….” He let his sentence trail off.

“The- Ralltene?!” Allianna exclaimed incredulously, “that’s impossible!”

Gowa put a gentle hand on the now red faced Allianna, “it does seem off, but-”

“He wouldn’t,” Allianna looked to Aldrick, as if expecting this to be a ruse.

“Perhaps I am mistaken about my assaulters” Aldrick allowed. “But I fear that their claims also supports my fears regarding Lord James. We had…” He shifted in his seat, wincing slightly, “an arrangement. He was going to build a major road to Acitha in exchange for exclusive trade rights. I have no idea how Lord Ralltene might have found out about the arrangement,” Aldrick let a deep frown spread over his face, “and I never imagined he might react in such a way. Of course I have no evidence to back up these conjectures of mine” He gestured with his right hand as if to wipe away his previous statements. “Hence why I have not spoken about them to anyone save one very close friend. Still, I thought it only prudent to warn you in the event my fears turned out to be founded in reality.”

Allianna eyeballed a chair, her knees secretly weak with anxiety, “mind if I sit?” She asked gently, her hand rubbing her chin in thought.

“Of course” Aldrick said. “Please make yourself at home. Both of you.”

Allianna quickly got comfy in the seat, one hand cupping her wine. She sat in silence for a moment or two before opening her mouth, “do you know anything more about this? How much evidence is stacked against my brother?”

“Not enough for Grand Commander Serapina to make a move” Aldrick stated. “Oh… she’s the commander of the shield sisters here in the heartlands.” He assumed Allianna had never met that particular shield sister. “She is probably the one you should speak to about this matter. You might also want to discuss the matter with Lady Marra.” He thought for a moment before adding “The two shield sisters standing guard outside my room… they were present when I found Lord James’ body and when I was attacked. I believe they were also present during the interrogation of the criminals who attacked me. Perhaps they can answer a few questions for you.”

“Most definitely!” Allianna agreed, “I have a lot of questions. I was worried from the start something like this would even be hinted at, and now that it has happened.” She paused, her lips pursing, “well, you get the idea.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone was killed over a crown” Aldrick commented. “And I doubt it’ll be the last time someone is killed over this specific one. Please be careful your Grace. I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to you as well.”

Allianna nodded, “you as well lord Aldrick, I’d be-” She cut herself off and nodded slightly, “- just be careful, please.”

“You have more important things to worry about than my health” Aldrick said. “Like how you intend to garner more support than Lord Jakinius and Lord Ralltene. Besides” He held up his left hand and used his thumb to toy with the ring on his pointer finger “I have this with me.”

“If I’m not mistaken you are holding one of the gifts from my ancestor,” Allianna questioned.

“I’ll go… talk to the guards,” Gowa suddenly said, straightening the sword on her hip. Before Allianna could answer, the woman was out the door.

Allianna shrugged and turned back to Aldrick, “correct?”

“You are well informed” Aldrick didn’t bother trying to hide his surprise. “The Serpantine Band… It’s been a most valuable asset to my family.” He looked up at his servants and gestured for them to leave. The two women bowed to Aldrick and Allianna before making their exit.

“It is a most wondrous object” He slipped the ring off and held it out towards her. “I wouldn’t mind loaning it to you. For a time.”

Allianna plucked it from Aldrick, “it looks just like how it was illustrated in the old books they made us Valarien’s read as kids. I might take you up on your offer.” A thankful smile broke across her face as she rolled it over in her palm.

“The stories are true” Aldrick watched as she rolled the ring over her palm. “It is both alive and intelligent. More so than many men I suspect, though it cannot speak.” He let a smile spread across his face as he said “Even so, it makes for a fine companion. Call out to it.”

“How?” Allianna looked embarrassed asking.

“Its simple” Aldrick said with a laugh. “Lindwurm come on out.” The ring seemed to shake in Allianna’s hand, the serpentine design letting go of its own tail as it grew in shape. It didn’t grow very large, halting at just about the same size as the palm that held it. The lindwurm gave out what should have been a fierce growl, but was more adorable than scary given the lindwurm’s size, as it scaled up Allianna’s arm and came to a rest on her shoulder. “It will also come out on its own should it sense that its owner is in danger” Aldrick commented as the lindwurm made itself at home on Allianna’s shoulder. The creature let out a huff as it curled up as if to take a nap.

“It’s,” Allianna stood completely still, in utter shock, “it’s extremely cute.” She said at last, almost surprised.

“Yea… well it stops being cute once it’s about the size of a dog.” He held his hand out towards the lindwurm which immediately leaped onto it and slithered up his arm. “You” he continued, “on the other hand are cute regardless of size.”

Allianna perked a silver brow and brought her hands to grip her sides, “are you suggesting I’m fat?”

“”Your Grace” Aldrick said after giving a bark of a laugh “you are lacking in unattractive traits.” He stroked the lindwurms chin with a finger, a wide smile spread across his face. “You most certainly need not worry about your weight.”

Allianna stared hard for a moment before letting a smile soften her glare. She let her hands slip off her sides and nodded appreciatively, “why thank you, Lord Aldrick.”

“You thank me as if I gave you a compliment” Aldrick commented. “All I did was state a fact.” He held his hand out, beckoning for the lindwurm to to walk onto his open palm. As it did it shrank in size, returning into an inert ring in his palm. He toyed with the ring in his hand as he looked at Allianna.

“Are you flirting with me?” Allianna asked behind a smile as she watched the snake slither away.

“We could discuss more serious matters if you prefer” Aldrick returned her smile with one of his own.

“I suppose I could stand a few more compli- facts,” Allianna sat upright in her chair.

“Your Grace” Aldrick began. “Which do you think is worth more? Silver or gems? I can’t decide which is more precious: those silver eyes of yours or that gem of a mind.”

A laugh slipped from Allianna, “fair enough, Lord Aldrick. I can see the steel of the bandits didn’t reach your unique wit.”

“Not quite” Aldrick agreed with a chuckle of his own. After a moment he allowed a more serious expression to replace his smile. “I do think we need to discuss the upcoming election. Lord Jakinius and my sister will be arriving any day now and I fear that he and Lord Ralltene both have significantly more support amongst the electorate than you.”

“I know,” Allianna’s smile faded, “who do your friends support?”

“My friends?”

“Electors and Prime Magistrates that you speak with?”

“Well Lord James was quite an outspoken supporter of yours” Aldrick commented after a moment of contemplation. “But with his passing I have no idea how the Cragmores will vote. I do feel confident that the Tallurians will vote for you.” He paused before adding “And while they do not have a vote I strongly support the shield sisters favor Jakinius. Which brings us to my own sister…” Aldrick let out a long sigh. “I know she favors Jakinius. She’s basically a female version of him.” He rolled his eyes. “And she will not vote for you if it risks Lord Ralltene taking the throne. And even if Ralltene had far fewer supporters than I suspect he does, she would want certain… guarantees from you.”

“With your testimony against my brother, I’m sure any risk there is of Ralltene winning will be drained pretty quickly, “ Allianna commented, “I’m sure she would understand this if you told her, no?”

“Perhaps” Aldrick allowed. “But I’m sure it would help her make the right choice if she knew who you intended to instate into your High Council. She is especially worried about who the next Lord Marshall will be, as am I, and for obvious reasons as that office most directly contributes to the safety of our homeland.”

Allianna gave Aldrick a concerned yet understanding look, “perhaps you two should help me choose the first sword should I be elected then. Would the opportunity to handpick the marshal quell your concerns?”

“It most certainly would.” Aldrick allowed the very corners of his mouth to turn upwards. “Your understanding and compassion are the hallmarks of an excellent empress.” He paused for a moment before asking “Have you put any thought into the other offices of the High Council?”

“I'll have to wait and see who shows their true colors before I put anything in stone, you understand,” Allianna smiled back.

“Of course” Aldrick returned her smile. “Once my sister arrives I shall expend all of my energy ensuring that she makes the correct vote. And I’ll leave you to ensure the other electors do the same.”

The city of Ereden was abuzz as always. Markets flowing with vendors from across the empire, people buying and trading wares by the pound. To carriages of goods and materials being sent up and down the streets. It was one of the busiest cities in the Kingdom. The port of Ereden was especially busy due to the amount of trade that happened through here on a daily basis. To the point where even the East Empire Company has set of shop and trades with Sakerian merchants regularly. Some of the lower-class merchants complain, since the buying power of the company exceeds many fo these merchants incomes combined. But the elite insist on keeping the company.

Elite’s in Sakerian society are your snobby bunch. You see, in every major city besides Ereden there’s a governor. The governor is often a member of a family that helped House Winterfield to prominence during the coup d’etat a 2-3 decades ago. These families and their friends control the city by the balls in terms of local issues. Just recently there was a fire in Knoxville at a blacksmith’s practice. Rumor has it that the blacksmith wasn’t commissioned to operate so the ruling family in Knoxville (Ran by the Murlock clan) “took care of it”. The thing is however the elite’s don’t even attempt to hide these facts and prance around doing whatever they want. People complain, Damien at times intervenes but overall he keeps to himself. As long as public happiness is somewhat good, the gold is flowing through and the armed forces in that region are happy, he stays out of it.

Tony Mangano was spotted getting out of the carriage with a man in a blue garment and a fur coat over him. A trade guild logo on his right breast pocket for the fur coat.

“The election is coming up, and you people already know who your voting for?!” Exclaimed the fur coat male.
“Enough Julian, Damien went over this with me and Randall. We have a good idea from the discover’s and the talks on the road and we know somewhat to an extent of what each of them brings” Tony replied.

The male on Tony’s left, Julian was the son and heir to Family Green. Family Green was politically involved in the city of Gemfield. Their patriarch, Hugo Green was the governor of Gemfield for the past 6 years. The family in terms of people wasn’t as bad as compared to say the Murlocks, Benns or even the worst of the brunch the Fords. Yet the Green’s were notoriously known for leaving bastard children in their wake…

The duo entered into a office with the Sakerian Trading Logo on it. The office was medium sized room with two people, one male and one female working at a desk. A map of Sakera and the Empire was on the wall with various small flags, lines and notes on it. To this date, Sakera has roughly over 50-60 trading posts spread across Empire land. This amount isn’t even including the one’s in Sakerian land. These trading posts serve a key purpose in allowing the flow of goods in Sakera to remain constant and not stop or stick as the guild calls them. But also they act as the eye’s and ear’s of Sakera…

“Guildmaster, present surprise” the male said, as he stood up.
“Guildmaster, what brings you here?” Asked the female, at her desk still.

Tony sat at one of the seats, and gestured to Julian to sit at another.

“Sitdown Apprentice Urich, learn from Journeyman Marigold here.”

Urich sat down, and nodded, looking at both males.

“Right, a few things. One, instead of sending 5 guards we’ll send one less, reports of highwaymen and cargo lost have gone down, run the numbers Urich and see how many guards we have left over” commanded Tony.

Urich without word began to work on the number crunching.

“As he does that, Julian you’ll be officially overseeing the docks of Ereden from now on, I’ll speak with your father and we’ll make a formal arrangement about his matter soon yes?” Tony said.

“Right, Journeyman Marigold will help you get into the loop on operations in Ereden, another thing.. Any news from our friends about the EEC?” Asked Tony, looking straight at Marigold.

“They been buying a lot of wares, wines, fish and furs. Probably preparing for the summit in the capital city” Journeyman Marigold stated.

“Have they paid or is it on account?” Asked Julian.

“Paid, with 2 more shipments paid for in advance” Marigold countered.

Tony nodded as he heard this news.

“Right, go along with the orders. Our Prime Magistrate is already at the estate. Is his order their?” Asked Tony.

“Arrived three days ago, with another one arriving midnight” stated Marigold.

“Guildmaster, we’ll have roughly 50 men to spare” stated apprentice Urich.

Tony nodded before he looked towards Julian.

“Get in the loop, I’ll be going” Julian stated, before departing the office.



On the outskirts of Lalrial, a manor with the House Winterfield banners is spotted. Gated around the initial front and back of the manor. Marble walls, windows with the finest of wood and pathways with perfectly cut stones were common site for this manor. Two fountains with the dragon, seen on the House Winterfield Banners were visible as well. Yet what alluded people wasn’t the large manor itself with many rooms, it was what was behind it. A pathway that lead straight to a horse track

The city of Lalrial didn’t have a horse track, for racing horses. At most it had a few jousting fields for local jousting competitions. So, with permission from Damien and the city’s approval. The Sakerian elite raised a fund to create a five mile long horse track. The track is moderate to hard in terms of difficulty to even some experienced riders. Varying elevations, tight bends it requires the rider to be focused and remain in control at all times. Two major straightways exist, one is the starting straightway and the other is when the riders hit the third last turn near to the finish line. The thing about this track is however organizers for whatever events can slim it down to even a mile long if needed to, and has been done before. The Sakerian elite’s often ride horses here, or host local competition to pass time. The track itself has become some sort of local phenomenon in the capital city, attracting crowds of 200 to 300 people for it’s events that are hosted once a month in the spring, and twice in the summer months.

Maintenance of the track is done by local workers, some of diverse ethnic backgrounds and a few Sakerians work here. The nearby stable houses 6 horses, one owned by Damien. Construction for another stable was on it’s way, to increase the capacity to 14 horses. Not to mention more bleachers were being made for the ever increasing demand of people wanting to see horses race. In the middle of the bleachers and at the top deck was where the nobility sat. 4 tables with bottles of varying wines were common sight. While people on the bleachers tend to drink local ale sold at stalls on the pathway leading to the horse track. Beside the bleachers was a small tent in a orange color with blue stripes. Usually, in that tent would be a bookie. The bookie would take bets on the race, on behalf of the Sakerian Trading Guild. It was a small time money maker since the city took “generous” taxes for the gambling profits.

Now, back to the manor. The manor besides from being well built and kept was home to the Prime Magistrate or as the court called him: The Ambassador to the City. His name was Solomon Benn. Solomon was a interesting character to say at least. Everyone in Sakera knew he was a wild party animal who enjoyed the company of whores, booze and illicit activities. His father, the governor of Old Redden, a city known for it’s fur industry. With this the Benn family was a extremely rich bunch, after the state’s taxes. With a lot of money in his bank and influence, Senior Benn suggested to Damien that his son, Solomon took over the reign of Ambassador. At that time, Benn was a great man. Religious, church hell he even had a wife. But ever since his wife’s death to childbirth and his disownment of that child, he hasn’t been the same…

“Get the fuck off me you filthy whore!” Solomon said as he threw a random whore off of him.

He got up and changed into a simple silk shirt and some pants as the whores scampered out of the master bedroom.

“Timmy! Get me a fucking cold glass of water!” Shouted Solomon, hung over from the night’s events.

Two figures were seen entering the room after Solomon had called for his butler Timmy. One of them in a black cowl and the other in the red cowl. Randall let out a smirk as he held the glass of water in his hands. He then mimicked Timmy’s voice

“Here ser” Randall said.

“Thank fuck you can listen”, Solomon snatched the glass of water without even looking up at the face of Randall. He chugged the glass of cold water down before handing it back to Randall, who didn’t bother to grasp onto it.

“Grab the fucking glass Timmy, I ain’t in the fucking mood” grunted Solomon.

The second figure behind Randall closed the door, and stood near to it.

“What the fuck are you doing you chum-..” Solomon began to say as he spun around only to face Randall.

“Well well, Mr.Benn enjoying the life of opulence and luxury are we yes?” Chuckled Randall as he sat down on one of the chairs.

The second figure removed her hood obscuring her face, she was a women.

“This the diplomat you were speaking about Master Randall?” Asked the women.

“Solomon, meet Lauren, one of my trusted advisors.” Stated Randall.

“What.. what the fuck are you both doing here.. So fucking close to the city?!” Exclaimed Solomon, in shock of who he encountered. He gently place the empty glass of water down.

“Lord Damien wanted me to check up on you, ensure you know what you are to do in a few days time yes?” Randall stated, before pointing to Lauren. She withdrew a sheet of paper with a strange red seal, the seal had a Dragon on it, probably representing a royal order straight from the desk of Damien.

Solomon grasped onto the letter looking once at Lauren before opening the letter up.

“Lord Damien, said that you and a party of 4 other people will be attending this function. Master Randall, I, Officer Henry York and Captain Madam Rogers. You’ll be with us the whole event and not to leave our sight since we four are your formal escorts. At the manor roughly 10 stationed men will be here at all times, with five plain clothes officers at the horse track guarding your assets. Your booze intake will be restricted to at most 3 glasses of wine and 2 mugs of ale as your booze intake-..” Lauren stated before she was cut off by Solomon.

“Whoa whoa, I appreciate the protection and everything but your limited my drink, i think that’s abi-..” Solomon said before Randall cut him off.

“Everyone in the fucking city know’s you're an alcoholic son, I’d rather not have you throw up over the royal carpet and become the new political mess for our House yes?” Randall stated as he got off from the chair.

“Everything else is on the letter ambassador, your butler has gotten jewelry for you and the set of clothes for the day of the event. Don’t damage them before hand please. The guild paid good money for them” Lauren stated as Randall left the room without a word. She followed behind him, and placing her cowl over her head.

“Wait, are you free on Thursday?!” Shouted Solomon as Randall and Lauren departed the manor.

The air was dusty and the lights were dim. Cracks of twilight managed to bleed pink through the dirty windows of the hovel, and the stench of rotting wood countered that of a peasant’s vegetable rich stew. Earthen colored clothes were piled on the many hunched bodies of those who occupied the hut of poverty. Several families sat together here, and together amassed at a large beaten table of wood and chipped bowls.

A shaking old woman had poured everyone their steaming stews and broke off a bite of bread for the hardest workers, among them was Gerald, the Imperial pigeon keeper. A content smile of a simple man broke across his chapped lips and he went to take a bite, savoring the smell a lot longer than the rest, who all had already begun to feast in a cacophony of slurping and belches.

Before Gerald's longing teeth could pinch the crust of the bread, the sick sound of retching overtook the boisterous slurping. Gerald dropped the bread in horror, his mouth hinged open as he watched everyone sitting at the table suddenly convulse violently. Hoarse moans of suffocation wheezed from their throats as a gurgling liquid sound started to rush along with it.

Almost instantly the gurgles erupted into vomit, as the violently thrashing crowd began to expel red chunks and liquids from their mouths. Gerald grew faint as he watched people flail into their bowls and furniture, the stew flying along with the grizzly vomit, wood splintering with explosive cracks, and muffled screams attempting to pass by the erupting red torrents. His eyes widened in terror, the macabre scene slowly coming to a still as the bodies fell to the floor one by one with a sick splash of unknown liquid.

Gerald shook in fright, his fingers white as they dug into the table, eager to grasp reality from the sudden attack. His eyes scanned the room, the dead’s wide and bloated eyes staring back from puddles of food and vomit.

“Ahem,” a scratchy voice beckoned. Gerald quickly looked opposite of his side of the table, and there sitting on the seat across was a figure clad in peasant's rags, a brown cloak concealing him much in the manner of the other hovel dwellers before the grim convulsion.

“Who- Who are you?” Gerald managed to spit out.

“Ivoni, and you are?” The voice was casual yet sinister.

“G-Gerald. Are you Salvation?”

A white smile managed to catch the light of the windows, as Ivoni cackled evilly, “Oh, much, much worse.”

A stiff finger pointed to a wrinkled cloak that gleamed slightly in the corner of the room, “grab your cloak, and bring me to the pigeon coops.”

“But,” the pale faced Gerald resisted, “I had spilled lamp oil all over that cloak this morning, I can’t possibly go out with it, and without it I’ll be too co-”

Ivoni’s fist slammed into the table, “are you really arguing with me, amid a pool of your dead friends?” His teeth gritted in agitation, uncannily into a smile.

Gerald nearly fainted at the outburst, weakly standing up. Pinching his nose from the acrid stench of vomit, he slowly made his way for the cloak, Ivoni in tow. The large pigeon keeper slipped into his moist cloak, putting the hood up as Ivoni pointed to it.

Like shadows the two slipped from the hovel, Gerald in the lead, with the vicious Ivoni behind, like a deer forced to lead a wolf, too frightened to move away.

The walk was a silent one. Only the rare splashes of the bleeding sunset gave face to their silhouettes, and not a word was muttered between the two. Of course, Gerald’s boots squeaked for the first few steps, soaked with bodily fluids and rubbing against the cobblestone awkwardly. Soon their seemingly robotic forms found their way out of the slums, and to the massive tower, at which the top the coop was held, boxed in rickety wooden panels and allowed fresh air through unkept cracks in the infrastructure.

The steps up were steep and made out of cold stone, but the chill of the wind didn’t quite reach through Gerald’s oil soaked cloak until he swung open the trapdoor to the howling wind that circled the coop’s interior. The pigeons cooed angrily and flapped wildly in their simple cages when the two men emerged from the darkness below. Motes of dust and feathers lingered in the wind that was captured by the wooden panels, and spears of pink light shot through every available crack. The twilight air gasped from the thin paned window that the birds used as an exit.

Ivoni made his way to the wide window. It was as long as it was wide, coming down to Ivoni’s waist, and stretching a few feet above his head. It didn’t face the sun, giving the view outside a dark blue hue, and the ominous silence of the impending night. The man’s bright blue eyes scanned the scenery available from so high up, and his view spiraled to the cobblestone road so very far below. Quickly Gerald made his way to the ashen skinned man’s side, eager to figure out what was going on.

“I brought you here,” Gerald stated.

Ivoni look up from the window and blinked at the man, “so you did.”
Ivoni turned from the window and sauntered off towards one of the standing cages, using his shoulder to lean against it. Gerald turned to face the man, the breeze of the window tickling through the back of his cloak. Casually Ivoni fished a square piece of paper from his cloak pocket. He folded it lightly in half before reaching back into his pocket to take out a pinch of brown, crushed leaves. After sprinkling them onto the paper he slowly started to roll it into a stick.

“Are you just going to leave me here in wonder?” Gerald persisted.

Taking the flint from an empty lantern that sat ontop of the cage, Ivoni sparked one end of his cigarette to life. The wind of the coop aided the ember, and Ivoni put the other end to his lips, sucking deeply. The ember glew happily from the inhaling breath.

A cloud of acrid smoke, slightly flavored with a sweet spice, poofed from Ivoni’s lips. A wide grin formed on his face, “you are in charge of this coop, are you not?” Tendrils of smile creeped through Ivoni’s teeth as he spoke.

“I am,” Gerald answered, his fuzzy brow furrowed with confusion.

“And I’m sure you remember a certain visit from a cloaked man?”

A thick puff of Ivoni’s cigarette swarmed around Gerald’s face, forcing a cough. Gerald rubbed one of his eyes, “it was Salvation.”

Ivoni nodded slowly, the ember glowing intensely as he sucked in another breath.

“I know,” Ivoni started, “I was just wondering if you knew.”

“Why? What are you going to do with me?”

The ashen skinned man squinted at Gerald’s paling face, “don’t you worry, you aren’t apart of my plans.”

“W-what.” Gerald looked stumped, “then what are your plans?”

Ivoni smiled as he exhaled, giving him the impression of a wicked dragon, “I suppose I could tell you. You seem like the tight lipped sort.”

“You have my word, not a word!” Gerald nodded vigorously, helplessly hoping to get home without a scratch from this strange encounter. The mysterious fright that Ivoni conjured seemed to swell in Gerald’s stomach, pushing out the sickly depression and terror that was forced into his head at the sight back at the hovel.

Ivoni looked him over for a moment before shrugging, “very well. Listen closely for I will only explain once.”

“What? What?” Gerald asked hushedly, his eyes darting.

“So I assume you heard the rumors?”

“About the death of Googus Valarien by the hands of Rapdori?”

Ivoni perked a brow and sucked in his cigarette, “quaint but no, the ones about Jakinius.”

“Ah! Yes I heard actually,” Gerald’s fear drained to give energy to the human nature of gossip, “he is going to take the throne by force! A few groups in the slums are already forming to take arms just in case the guards remain stupid.”

“Great!” Ivoni belched a puff of smoke.

“Great?”

“But of course, strife is what I like. After all, it was simply me who started the rumor.”

“You?” Gerald’s face drained, “so is it…”

“False… or as far as I know it is,” Ivoni smiled wickedly, “and a simple fragment of a plan I had brewing, which in turn was a simple fragment of a larger one.”

“What plan was that?” Gerald asked curiously.

“The smaller one? Well let me enlighten you,” Ivoni nodded, “how does one kill an empire?”

“That doesn’t sound very small,” Gerald’s eyes widened.

“Just answer me,” Ivoni puffed on his cigarette.

“I don’t know,” Gerald admitted.

“Fair enough, take a guess.”

“Kill the emperor?”

“And if the emperor is already dead?”

“Kill whoever is in power?”

“And then I suppose I’ll have to kill the ones next in line and then the ones next in line after that, and after that, until not a soul lives. I don’t have that kind of time, besides any two bit with opposable thumbs can assassinate the electors, the emperor, the inquisition, whoever; no, that is not how you should kill an Empire.”

Gerald offered a blank look of confusion. Ivoni sighed, “if I killed those who held the title, simply more sheep would come to fill the role. It would be endless, truly. No, there are far better ways, for far better assassins.”

“Better?”

Ivoni simply smiled, “to kill a title, to kill a function, and idea. To kill peace, to kill something not seen or felt. To kill borders and invisible laws, this is how you kill an empire. Simply use a weapon not forged at the smithy, and one you are born with.”

Ivoni stuck out his tongue, and with it a stream of smoke.

“You see? For example there was a plan, a weapon devised to kill the peace and mind of Lalrial, to make way for a even bigger plan. I was recently told to abandon the mission, for why I cannot say. I was told to abandon my post for bigger reasons, but I was not told why.”

“How would you do that? Kill the peace of Lalrial?”

“How many men do you think is needed to siege such a massive city?” Ivoni asked suddenly.

“Hundreds of thousands,” Gerald answered. The fright slowly fading as he fell into the routine of the quesiton-answer conversation. He let his hands hold the lip of the window as he leaned back slightly.

“I wager one man could siege the city, in fact, one man could probably destroy the empire, even if the empire has a one thousand and two hundred year head start.”

“How?”

“Simple, we have everyone else do it for us. You see, I am a finger of a greater society, a true heart of life. I move a small piece, add a small spice, improve or diminish one small whisker, and like water I form stone into my desired masterpiece. I brought the idea that Jakinius was going to siege the city, I was going to have the gates cut when he arrived, the banners burned. The farms were going to be in flames as he arrived, adamant in the idea I placed in his head, that the city was taken by rebels. I was going to incite rebellion in the slums, and the rebels were going to be defeated by a captain of the guard that I had a secret hand in getting him his job, unbeknownst to him. Why? Simply because I knew how he would react to this. He would hang the bodies of the criminals along the road as display to future criminals, but all Jakinius would see was the dead of the city among the scorched fields. Of course by this time I would have gotten Jakinius plenty of reinforcements to help him, if this plan was still active. You can guess what would happen next. My warehouses in the slums on fire, inflamed sesame seed oil poured down the streets, utter chaos, instigated guards, instigated rebels, instigated Jakinius, and me and my associates would be watching off to the side, laughing. Whatever is born out of that battle, would be in my hands to manipulate further. Of course, all the while that plan was being hatched, an equally devastating plot was being laid down, one that would devour the Inquisition from within, and kill the very order, and eventually… cut off the heads of Salvation just as cleanly as those of the Empire.”

Gerald’s eyes widened at the thought of destroying all three entities, his mind birthing a fear akin to the one discovered when accidentally falling on a nest of poisonous snakes. He didn’t know this man, and he didn’t know who would want such chaos, “what are you?”

“I am a Black Scorpion, finger of the Father of Lies, and I will not rest until not only do we succeed, but that all others fail!” Ivoni gnashed his teeth as he flicked cigarette at Gerald. Instantly the man erupted into orange flames and hideous screaming, his oil stained cloak roaring under the heat. The birds angrily screeched and flapped their wings. Feathers fueled the burning man’s misery.

“I move one thing, one small thing, I set the stage for the actors, I am the director,” Ivoni hissed as he knocked over the empty lantern by him, “and I don’t appreciate those who spill my oil, or my information so easily!” With a swift kick, the flaming body of Gerald went flailing out of the coop. Gurgling screams whistled from his melting throat, and only were silenced by the macabre crack of his body breaking over the cobblestone below.

After the echoing thud of his body bouncing, only the whisper of a distant fire, and cackling of burning flesh remained to devour the otherwise silent night. Ivoni smiled wickedly as he turned from the window that had swallowed Gerald. Gently he flicked his finger against the bird cage, and the light metal squeaked open. Instantly the agitated birds rushed from their enclosure and streamed out of the coop in haste.

“Ivoni,” a deep growl sounded.

The ashen man turned to the voice. A figure with staring yellow eyes caught his sight. The owner of the voice was tall, and slightly hunched. From a dark hood stared the twisted face of man and beast. Patches of fur pocked the muscular and unsightly face of the half-gnoll. Long teeth poked from disturbed lips and underneath a flattened nose.

“Cassawah,” Ivoni replied.

“The Father has had another change of plans,” Cassawah snarled, “we are to stay and complete new orders.”

Ivoni’s eyes widened, like a starving dog by a feast. Cassawah let out a gurgling laugh, “we are to contact the worker of this tower.”

“Whoops,” Ivoni smiled evilly, “I’m afraid I already met him.”

“No matter, we continue our mission. For it is not sufficient that we succeed,” Cassawah started.

“But all others must fail.” The two finished.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the sole purpose of making sure people sleep tight tonight, not wondering how these two got out of a tower: They probably used an adjacent building.

Alternative ending for the more skeptical: Illuminati

Final Disclaimer: I understand that Ivoni had broken character and went all super villain speech. I had done this purposefully because I felt the need to create a post commemorating the weeks of work I had put into a few intrigue plots that are now void and retracted. I mean if you think about it, he woulda just let Gerald eat the bread and vomit to death, but I wanted this.

The Dowager's Tower in Caernan Castle was the lowest of the four towers that edge the royal residence of the Caernavir, but had the unique distinction of facing not out onto the wide expanse of the city but into the leafy gardens of the palace and the adjoining university. From its windows, it was possible to enjoy the sight and smell of a vast citrus orchard, several enclosed cloisters and a vast expanse of lawn used for tournaments during the warmer months by the king.

"Xandrian wine and imported cocoa in one visit?" Queen Eadrith giggled giddily. The sixteen year old consort of the kingdom had her tawny hair tied up in a functional style, pinned with three emerald broaches. She was wearing a relatively comfortable loose-fitting cyan garment. "You spoil us, good-mother,"

Queen Hiltruda smiled placidly at the almost comically bulging figure of her pregnant daughter-in-law. "Anything for the darling precious girl who carries my first grandchild," She said with a genuinely warm smile. "The cocoa is especially exciting, I think,"

Eadrith lifted one of the small ceramic cups that contained the viscous brown liquid up to her lips for a moment. "How did you acquire it, if you do not mind me asking?"

"I know a man," Hiltruda said candidly. "A Veletian. He keeps me well-stocked with a sample of all of the best items that come from Lointaine via Violette,"

"Be sure that is all that you import from Violette," Princess Alissera said from beneath her heavy veil. She was presumably also partaking in drinking the cocoa, but it was impossible to tell apart from nearly imperceptible shifts beneath her loose-fitting, heavy garments. "We would not want for any of their ideas to take hold here,"

"Precisely not," Hiltruda conceded. "And I often wonder whether it would be possible to negotiate some sort of trade deal with them. Farlook Post seems to be importing increasing amounts of silks and goods from within Ethica, but surely it would make sense for us to draw our net out further,"

"Surely," Eadrith queried tentatively. "We would not want to anger the Veletians?"

"Quite right," Alissera said, patting Eadrith's arm with her own gloved hand. It took everything that the young Queen had not to recoil. Her aunt-in-law still scared her. "I think it would be prudent of us to have them as friends,"

"Their Duchess is married to Prince Ralltene," Eadrith continued. "Surely our intentions in the imperial election will cool relations?"

"Perhaps," Hiltruda nodded. Her plump face was ruddy with concentration. "Perhaps not. The King does not seem to want to listen to us either," She produced a scroll and unfurled it across the table. It was written in the neat, precise handwriting of Princess Haldetrude. "The King seems wont to vote for Prince Jakinius, according to Haldetrude. He has not listened to us, I fear,"

A low, slightly scratchy chuckle emitted from beneath Alissera's veil. "The pawns will vote for the pawns. Let the honourable King Aethlar and the honourable Prince Jakinius posture themselves openly in the capital. They should enjoy it while they can," She said, idly tracing a finger along the enamelled top of the tea table. "We must establish contact with the Duchess Victoria, and with Princess Allianna too,"

Eadrith looked between the two Caernavir matriarchs. "This game is not going to be played by those who think they are playing, is it?" She said after a moment's contemplation. "My husband's opinion counts for less each day,"

"And all the better for it," Nodded Hiltruda, letting go of Haldetrude's missive and letting it half-float idly into the fire.

Remis smiled as she sat on the throne of Khomeria. She knew that she could easily seize the throne of the country if she wanted to. Lord Fokas Stormborn was loyal to her and at her orders, she could easily tell him to deny her brother entrance while she dealt with the two rebel leaders in her own way, however, she didn't wish for the throne, she would allow her brother into the country, knowing that he would deal with plain cities first before coming here.

Only a day later after she called out the two lords on their treason, the two sent messages that Kammeth no longer favored this dynasty and needed another and so, started to levy forces to fight her. She couldn't help but chuckle as she knew that the lords were even expecting that they would be able to win this rebellion with her at the head of Khomeria, though she wouldn't underestimate them. Lord Leimar Shattershield wasn't smart, but he was a brave and respected leader and while Lord Maridan was a good warrior, though it wasn't close to her level, he had a sharp mind and quick wits and didn't doubt that he would be able to convince his people to fight.

She had planned ahead, however, lady Armonia had come asking for help and she agreed to do so, if she and her wyvern knights beat lord Leimar's forces back. The people of Dertamis both highly respected and feared the Wyvern Knights and with most of the army being citizens of the city, it wouldn't be long until the sight of the beasts attacking would cause them to rout.

Lord Maridan was the only true threat now, but she wouldn't be able to get the aid of lord Fokas as the plain cities had revolted as well and he had gathered an army to quell these revolts, she would face him on her own. She didn't mind that however, she would prove to the world that they were still strong strategists, that the plague hadn't made them any weaker at all, and so, she and Dorias would have a stronger grip on the kingdom.

The door to the throne room opened and men in suits of armor entered inside. These men were the generals of Khomeria, the brightest military minds in the kingdom other than the noble families, all loyal to the king. They all took seats at the large round table that had been placed in the middle of the throne room and stared at Remis, waiting for her to speak up. She took a deep breath and rose from the throne and walked towards her seat at the round table and spoke loudly.

"My good men, I welcome you with open arms!" she said with a simple smile. These men were partly aware of who she was, so a deceiving smile wouldn't fool these men.

"And we accept your heartfelt welcome, my lady!" the men spoke one after the other with smiles of their own. However, after all the welcomes had been exchanged, she looked at the map that had been set in front of her. It was a detailed map of Khomeria, of all the forests, rivers and even to the smallest creeks.

"My lords, I don't wish to hold you all here for too long, so let's do this quickly, shall we?" she asked and placed her finger on a small river only 20 kilometers west from Meraton. The river in it's entirety had only one bridge that lead to Meraton, even if the enemy troops tried to brave the rivers flow, her troops would beat them back. "This is the only way Lord Maridan can get to Meraton, if we block his path and repel him here, we'll defeat them in an instant."

"My lady regent, but what about Lord Leimar's forces?" one of the old generals asked, she knew who this was, this man had served her father Karmius faithfully, even when losing two of his three sons to the plague.

"I have the wyvern knights dealing with them, my lords, they'll be easily routed when they see the mighty beasts pouring fire and boulders from the sky." she answered to the old general. "It is lord Maridan we have to focus now, he has raised an army twice the size of Lord Leimar... over 8.000 soldiers."

The generals now began speaking to one another about this for about an hour, trying to find different tactics to this, but in the end, they all relented and eventually agreed to her plan.

"What are we waiting for then, my lords?" she asked. "Gather your armies, we have some rebels to defeat!"

---


Lord Leimar was tapping the round table and anxiously awaited for his generals to arrive. As he now trusted nobody but his family right now, Leimar had appointed his own sister Morya second in command to him, the rest of the generals he knew to be brave, but was unsure of their loyalty and had them always under supervision of his own men, so that if they ever thought to switch sides, he would be aware of it.

His hand formed in a fist as his thoughts rested on lady Remis and thought of how he would kill her for her transgressions against him. However, his expression softened and his hand was no longer a fist. The young lady was too beautiful to be killed and he would leave her alive after this, maybe he would even ask for her hand. But he shook his head, after all, he would first have to defeat the professional khomerian army in his way and that was hard, even with his 4 to 1 numerical advantage.

His train of thought was however broken when the door to the throne room creaked open. From it emerged his sister, Morya, as always, dressed in her fur clothing rather than the clothing of nobles. Close behind her were the rest of the generals and notable soldiers in his army. With no word exchanged, everyone took their respective place at the table and awaited for Morya of all people to speak on how the levying of troops had went. She rose from her seat and spoke in a commanding tone:

"My lords, we have 4.500 men under our command, with this, we'll have to overcome the garrison at Meraton and a possible royal force... do you think it will be enough?" she asks the men there.

For the most part, the men there nodded and murmured that this would be more than enough troops, the younger brother to her own deceased husband rose. "My lady and lord, we outnumber the force of their garrison and total army 2 to 1, plus with lord Steelskin's larger army, we'll be able to easily overcome them even if it comes down to a siege!" the young man said in a proud tone, smilling.

However, Leimar rose from his seat and frowned. "You're forgetting two things, boy, the first is that the troops we're facing, unlike our own troops, are professional soldiers, not levies." he spoke. "And second, we don't have the time, Lord Fokas will put down the revolts of the plain cities fairly fast and will come onto us with his full might. If at the time we'll be in a siege, then we'll be both outmatched and outnumbered."

The boy, embarrassed sat back in his own seat and allowed Leimar to continue. "Lady Remis will most likely seek to end lord Maridan in one decisive battle at the Romya river. We have to prevent her from doing that and show her that we are threatening Meraton and have her retreat her forces." he says, his eyes studying every detail of the map. "If we do that, then we'll 12.000 soldiers surrounding the capital which will have around 2.000 defenders, more or less." he says.

"But we will have to assault the city in order to tire out the troops and force them to exhaust their limited supplies before Lord Fokas comes bearing down on us with his own army." Morya says, a bit skeptical of the plan. "And we both know that if the plan works, the troops inside will be the better disciplined ones."

"Well, then let's hope that Ra-hun-ru favors us and Aegis will forsake them." Garimas, one of the general speaks with a large smile. "We'll be able to overcome them, my lord, don't worry!"

"I hope you are right old friend. Morya, gentlemen, order the mobilization of the troops, we're heading out!"

---

---

Still visible in the low hanging noonday sun. The bright white spires of the great city of Lalrial-- the heart of the Empire-- soon came into view as the growing company consisting of Prince Jakinius Valarien, Princess Lynette Zarand, and the flamboyant King Aethlar VI neared the city gates. The great walls stood as imposing sentinels as if to guard against all the world. The wide opening was built so that two separate gateways needed to be passed before one could enter the city proper. At the outer gate stood four guardsmen dressed in the livery of the Heartlands. Dark green undergarments lined with gold and a tabard possessing a white phoenix on a green backdrop which was worn over a plated cuirass. They carried halberds in hand and were adorned in helmets that allowed only their eyes to be seen. In front and positioned in the middle of the company-- with two coaches bringing up the rear-- was Jakinius himself on his white charger. He wore no helm himself, allowing his ashen silver hair to be visible to even the men on the walls.

The King of Gwethydd swaggered a few paces behind Prince Jakinius on his large stallion, the gemstones in his silver circlet glittering in the sunlight. He was flanked on both sides by his sisters, riding side saddle - Eadgifu smirked and flipped her silvery blonde hair over her shoulder as she rode, while Princess Haldetrude rode placidly, offering a small and gracious smiles to anyone who met her gaze. Both were dressed in green velvet dresses emblazoned with the arms of the Caernavir. Gaewin, the king’s bastard brother, had ridden ahead at some speed to prepare things for the King’s arrival in the capital.

However, from the gates began emerging members of the Phoenix Guard in order, the first to emerge were Mardanis Shieldbearer and Laikar Steelskin, the Captain and the second in command respectively. The second to emerge were the more notable members, such as Marianna Shattershield and the massive Morgon Shattershield. Before long, almost twenty more knights of the Phoenix Guard emerged out of the gates.

Without a word, Mardanis and Laikar approached Jakinius Valarien and both knelt in front of him. “My Emperor, my name is Mardanis Shieldbearer, captain of the Phoenix Guard and I, along with the strongest members of the Phoenix Guard have come pledge our loyalty to you!” And as if on cue, the rest of Phoenix Guard knelt in front of the prince.

Jakinius was caught off guard for a moment as the gold feather cloaks of the renowned Phoenix Guard appeared and suddenly pledged themselves to him. He spared a quick glance toward Metinnus who himself seemed just as surprised as he. The King of Gwethydd reared his horse, his eyes widening with shock and admiration at the sight. Recovering quickly and seizing this moment Jakinius looked down toward Mardanis and said, "Lord Mardanis of Khomeria. Your support is both unexpected as it is humbling. I have heard tale of your skills with sword and how well you served my father when he was Chosen of Kammeth. I am not yet the holder of the title emperor of fair Ethica. Yet, I shall accept your homage-- come you would honor me further by accompanying us to the Tower if the Pheonix."

“May I join, cousin?” A bright voice piped from behind the glittering guards. Quickly shuffling past the order of knights, Sophsi made her way to Jakinius. A light makeup was padded under her eyes to hide her sleeplessness, but her large vulpine smile stole any attention towards it.

“I had heard news of your impending arrival and made sure that I would get a chance to see you before the politics of the city sapped your mind,” she joked.

"Dearest cousin Sophsi! It has been far too long, of course, you may join us-- we have much catching up I would imagine." Jakinius then frowned slightly upon seeing Sophsi was without her own mount. "Yet, I would not have a lady of the court, let alone anyone of my blood, walk on foot."

But before he could descend from his steed and offer it-- Metinnus perhaps having predicted this knowing his old friend-- easily dismounted from his own destrier and walked it to Sophsi before bowing and offering her the reigns. "If it would please you milady you may have my horse. House Amrothan trained so you know you will be in good hands." He then offered a glance to Jakinius and smiled, "after all we can't have the possible future emperor walk into Lalrial on foot either can we? I shall walk with the Phoenix Guard."

“Only if you truly insist,” Sophsi smiled, letting her fingers grasp the reins, “I’m not above a little walking.”

"I do insist," Metinnus assured her before taking his place among the Phoenix Guard.

Aethlar finally seemed to regain his senses, bowing with chivalric flair to Sophsi. “My lady, I am King Aethlar of the Gwethyns. These are my sisters the Princess Haldetrude and Lady Eadgifu,” He said with a flourish. Both women inclined their heads simultaneously.

“If the common folk did not support you already,” Eadgifu remarked with surprising directness to Prince Jakinius. “They will once they see you ride into the capital with the Phoenix Guard and the scions of two electoral houses at your back,” She said with a sly smirk. “Pageantry really can be paramount,”

The group started forward once more now with the addition of a Valarein and the iconic Phoenix Guard. The guards at the gate recognized the heraldry of House Valarien and seeing no reason to bare his path gave the word to the watchmen atop the walls. As the company passed through the first gate a horn sounded.

"Prince Jakinius has returned! The Prince has returned!" Came the heralding shouts from the walls as the group cleared the gates. Down the main thoroughfare lane they went. People watching from streets or from windows as the stunning sight of the famed imperial guard caught the attention of more than a few. There was clear confusion among the crowd. Many whispering questions as to who had won the election and when had it occurred? The reception was somewhat cold to a few cheers, making for a rather mixed welcome. The hulking giant form of Olafgvar astride his own horse riding to the rear of Jakinius gave a hearty laugh. "Well, my prince! This must make for a rather interesting return for you. Seems the folk of the south know not if ta kiss ya welcome or hang ye high!"

The King of Gwethydd, though not famously intellectual, was at least intuitive in his understanding of how to work a crowd. The swaggering green banners of House Caernavir swayed gently in the city wind as he rode on, flanked by his two sisters. Haldetrude kept her head bent reverently low, her long auburn hair falling in curtains down the side of her horse while Eadgifu kept her own head held defiantly high, the soft wind stirring the curls of her silvery mane. Aethlar, for his part, offered wide and reassuring smiles to the people. At one point, his horse darted out from the cortege for a moment and the King offered a garland of green petalled flowers to an old peasant widow. Aethlar, with his flamboyant steel armour and distinctive livery, would have been a familiar sight to the people of the capital. “Will you not greet your prince?” He cried to the crowd, his voice loud but inviting. “Who has kept us from harm by the unforgiving northmen?”

“Kammeth damn him and his seizure of power!” A random voice, clearly perturbed by rumors and the sight of the imperial guard called out. A rash of disagreement followed among the peasants and urban dwellers, some claiming Jakinius’ rights, others disagreeing.

“Don’t worry,” Sophsi turned to Jakinius, “I had predicted this might come up, I have much to tell you-” Sophsi looked around and leaned forward on the destrier, “In private of course, dear cousin.”

Jakinius nodded as he watched the crowd. "I would agree Sophsi, it seems we will have much to discuss when the opportunity arises. I have fears there is more going on in the capital than meets the eye." The company soon reached the higher districts closer to the heart of the city that was the gold white Pheonix tower. It rose high as the tallest structure in the city, easily dwarfing the tower Silver-Gold Tower of The Argentum. In the inner district almost, all the buildings were spires or towers that were owned by one noble or another. Here where the support of the crown had always been strongest the nobles who witnessed the arrival of Prince Jakinius openly cheered. It would seem the rumors had had more sway among the lower class of the city.

Sophsi seemed relieved by the cheer and offered a supportive smile, “must be nice being home.”

And celebrating along the nobles of the city were the rest of the Phoenix Guard, all who had prepared itself for the arrival of the prince and were now cheering along with the nobles at the arrival of the prince. However, a messenger arrived in front of Jakinius, he knelt in front of him and spoke in a solemn tone.

“Your highness, Prime Magistrate Alemia Shattershield of the Kingdom of Khomeria would like to meet you as soon as possible at a location most comfortable for you to discuss some matters.”

Sophsi looked to Jakinius, “see what I meant about talking before you entered the city?”

Jakinius only sighed and said, "Well seems Lalrial has wasted little time in dragging me into local poltics. Very well then, tell Prime Magistrate Alemia Shattershield I shall meet him on the morrow two candlemarks after sunrise at House Duvard's estate. I think it's high time I make me arrival in Lalrial known."

---

The Gilded Gourmet was one of the finest dining establishments in Lalrial, and a contender for one of the most noteable, most exquisitely staffed and decorated, and above all, most expensive restaurants in Ethica. The average denizen of the Phoenix City could not afford an entrée at the Gilded Gourmet, and indeed, would not have been allowed inside to even try and purchase themselves a meal. A troupe of the gendarmerie, in full uniform, kept watch at the entrance and throughout the restaurant’s halls, and both the building’s architecture and interior design—reminiscent of the golden mosaics and general opulence of the Palais du Peuple—were orchestrated to remind visitors of a city far greater in class than the one in which the restaurant itself was situated. The Gilded Gourmet was a Veletian outpost, standing proud in the midst of the Imperial City. And like all of the rest of Violette, it was owned by House Gracieux.

The Duchess of Violette gave a smile and a pert nod to the Gwethyn girl as she was admitted into one of the Gilded Gourmet’s private couple’s dining rooms, the gendarme flanking the entranceway opening the door for her to proceed inside. Within, she saw Victoria Gracieux, adorned in one of her signature violet dresses. Around the Duchess’ neck was the artefact of House Gracieux, a golden necklace with gemstones arranged to form the shapes and colours of flowers, the so-called ‘Gilded Bouquet’, after which the restaurant was named. She was sitting in a chair behind a table, and both were crafted most elegantly, from one exotic wood or another. At the other end of the table, closest to the door, was an empty chair, where Haldetrude was meant to sit.

Princess Haldetrude had travelled - as was custom with Gwethyn maidens - with a chaperone (in this case it was Lady Marienne di Ventilado, sister of Queen Eadrith) but she left her accompaniment outside as the gendarmes swung the door open. The meeting had been giving her much consternation during the trip from Harksmoor to Lalrial. Haldetrude was unsure about who outranked who in the equation - whether she, as a Princess, outranked a Duchess, or whether Victoria, as an Elector, outranked her, so upon her arrival into the room she gave a sort of half curtsey that attempted to satisfy both sides of the argument.

The eighteen year old princess wore her hair down and brushed straight down her back, held in place with gold bands that were studded with tiny emeralds at various intervals. About her right wrist she wore a complex jewelled bracelet that swirled with delicate bands of silver midway up her forearm. Purposefully, all of her jewellery was of Veletian make, specifically from Artran, a city that exercised a virtual monopoly on Gwethyn aristocratic luxury.

Haldetrude swept into the room with a sort of effortless elegance and grace, the result of many years of careful training by a dynastically conscious mother who was fully aware of the disarming capabilities of charm. “I thank you for your audience, Duchess Victoria,” She said, flashing a toothy smile. Though not particularly beautiful, there was a warmness and a purity that seemed to emanate from King Aethlar’s only sister.

The matriarch of House Gracieux was pleased at Haldetrude’s manner, though not surprised. The Caernavirs, and, in Victoria’s experience, the Gwethyn in general, were a people that placed spectacular emphasis on formality, and the regimentation of custom. Not unlike most of the rest of Ethica’s great houses, blood, especially noble blood, was of incredible importance to them. This practice was not foreign to Veletians, but was also not entirely grasped by them. In Violette, it was not blood that determined hierarchy, but gold. Victoria had felt superior to everyone she had ever met not because she considered her superiority to have descended from word of on high, but because she was fantastically wealthy. There was something egalitarian, she surmised, of thinking yourself as better than those you meet because of the contents of your coinpurse instead of your veins.

“And I thank you, Princess Haldetrude. It is splendid to meet someone with such excellent grasp of manner. I fear it has been mostly faux-barbarians who have arrived in this city of late. You are a breath of fresh air. Please, sit. How do you like your surroundings, Haldetrude?”

The Gwethyn princess found Victoria’s plain-speaking both amusing and somewhat disarming. Growing up in the royal court of Harksmoor, everything important had been left unsaid, and calling your northerly neighbours ‘faux-barbarians’ was the sort of thing that people like Haldetrude’s mother only ever implied. She took her seat obligingly, casting an eye around the room. It was as splendid and opulent as any piece of Veletian jewellery rendered large. It was said in Harksmoor that the Veletians wore their money like other people wore their socks, and it certainly seemed to be ringing true in the capital.

“I enjoy the capital, in general,” Haldetrude said carefully. “I have not visited for very many years, and I fear that my occasion to be here during this particularly trying time is only so that my brother can attempt to make a wife of me to some second son of a paltry lord. I heard him talking of sending off our bastard sister to the north just the other day. As for the venue, I admire it greatly. The concept of fine dining has not yet taken hold in Gwethydd, and I fear for a maiden to dine out alone would be a scandal in Harksmoor,” She said with a small laugh.

“I trust that you are at least somewhat aware of the purpose of my visit today,” Haldetrude said, tracing a finger over the lip of the table. Her aunt, Princess Alissera, had sent a missive in her distinctive spidery handwriting to Haldetrude when she was halfway to Lalrial by special rider. It was likely that she had also sent communications to the capital as well. The ‘Princess in the Tower’ was a ubiquitous figure in Gwethyn foreign affairs, after all, and her well-worded missives were almost enough to make up for the fact that no diplomat had ever seen or held a conversation with her in person.

“I am here representing King Aethlar,” She said with a nod, though her voice lifted somewhat when she reached the name of her brother. Everyone in the know knew that the King of the Gwethyns was an attractive, charming and well-educated man, and little else. On cue, she tapped the necklace that hung around her neck, which was a silver figure of a stag reared up on its hind legs. It was the sigil of the Queen Mother’s house of birth, the Cantaviri.

Victoria laughed, her gaze listing downward for a moment to examine the sigil on Princess’ neck, before rising to meet her eyes. “If you were here to represent King Aethlar you would not have been allowed inside. I don’t have any interest in speaking to that flowery buffoon, and especially not in speaking to anyone who would willfully represent him. I believe the truth of the matter is that we are both wearing our loyalties around our necks.” Victoria took her necklace in hand, carefully lifting the largest and most central of the gemstone flowers, a violet, up for Haldetrude to see.

“We are in a private venue, speaking to each other without observers. I have found that it requires an incredible amount of patience to feign tolerance for collective lies in the public sphere, and for that reason, I gift myself with forwardness in private, to save fake smiles and loathsome curtsies for when they are needed. I do not imagine that either of us requires practice in how to speak subtly, and as our interests are aligned, we needn’t bother.” A grin broke out on the Duchess’ face. “Of course, that isn’t to say we should be uncivil. Personally, I am quite fond of civility. It is what separates us from, among more troublesome others, the great unwashed.” Victoria’s fingers clasped on the table, and her grin withered. “You represent the Dowager’s Tower. The cabal of powerful women, centred around Queen Hiltruda, that is the true power in your kingdom. And you are not here as Aethlar’s liaison, but Hiltruda’s.”

Haldetrude nodded along slowly with the words. One corner of her mouth twitched slightly when she heard the king being referred to as a buffoon. “I believe the situation to be a good deal more intricate than that. My mother, like my brother, represents first and foremost the interests of the Kingdom of Gwethydd. I believe that our two nations have somewhat more in common than most would like to admit in that sense - the Caernavir do not leave diplomacy to chance. King Aethlar serves his own separate and yet essential function. He is the embodiment of our nation - a shining, charming, swaggering hero for our peasantfolk to be enamoured by. Neither he nor they need be aware that the intricacies of government are more complex than that. Nor,” Haldetrude said with a smirk. “...am I sure that they would understand,”

“It would not be my wish to be factionalist towards my own brother,” She cleared her throat. Her demure and girlish air was fading somewhat as she sunk her teeth into the meat of the conversation. “But you are right. I am here under the instructions of my mother first and foremost. The ‘cabal’, as you call it, that maintains stability in our nation. Someone like yourself can surely recognise the potential power that can come even as an ostensibly decorative consort. Even as an Empress, let’s say,” Haldetrude let her mouth linger on the sibilance of the last word for a moment, arching an eyebrow.

“House Gracieux has been a great friend to our nation in the past,” Haldetrude paused, slightly unsure of the provenance of what she had been instructed to say next. “Queen Hiltruda bade me remind you how grateful we are of the last ‘great service’ that your father rendered unto the continued stability and moral health of Gwethydd,” There was an uncertain pause. “The kingdom is better for it.”

Victoria spoke plainly, and arrived immediately at her point. Her eyes never left Haldetrude’s. “The trouble with figureheads is when they stop being figureheads and begin to exercise power. The power, for instance, to elect an Emperor.”

“You have heard of our ‘triumphant’ entry into the city then,” Haldetrude conceded. “My brother swaggering at the side of Prince Jakinius like his aide-de-camp, and me and my bastard sister at his sides like baubles. It was almost embarrassing. But you are right - it has been a concern to the Caernavir that the King may exercise the… less fortunate… vote at the crucial moment. That is a prerogative endowed unto him at imperial leisure, however. We can do little except influence him to choose in the correct way,”

“I think…” Victoria began, “that five years is a long enough reign. The possibility of King Aethlar VI casting the deciding vote for Jakinius is not only a grave prospect to myself, but also to the sane half of your family. He may be a puppet today, but with an Emperor whom he mistakenly interprets to be his close friend, and who relies on him for having become Emperor in the first place, he could begin to command a spectacular amount of power. At the very least, he would pretend that he was spectacularly powerful, and his pretenses would get in the way of the actual governance of your country.” Victoria assessed Haldetrude’s reactions to her words very carefully, taking note of each subtle gesture and every little flinch.

“There is a way to both remove Aethlar from power, replacing him with whichever new figurehead you and your compatriots choose, whilst at the same time ruining Jakinius’ chances at becoming Emperor. All without any need for a hunting accident,” The Duchess then adopted a more personal tone. “I needn’t remind you, of course, that this would also spare you and your poor sister from becoming the regretful brides of some horrible bastard of a lord that you’ve not even yet had the unfortunate ‘honour’ of meeting.” The Duchess of Sunvale sat upright in her chair, releasing a deep breath. She finished, “If I were in your shoes, that would be my foremost concern.”

Haldetrude’s face hardened somewhat as Victoria spoke. A vein popped in the soft white skin of her neck and a small blush rose to her cheeks. “My own interests are irrelevant. If my mother sees it advantageous to place me in the north that is where I will go - if she does not then Aethlar will be dissuaded from pursuing anything more meaningful. Eadgifu and Gaewin can be married off, because they remind her of that stain on our family that caused their birth,” She paused, sighing softly. “We can manage our own affairs quite adequately. I have no desire to see my brother dead,”

“Nor,” Victoria interjected, “is it necessary for your brother to die. My ambition is not to kill him. Exactly the opposite. I wish for King Aethlar VI, who rode into town at Jakinius’ side and is a loud proponent of his rule, to be put under investigation for ordering a murder. I wish for him to be framed for the death of a supporter of my husband, to shame Jakinius’ supporters and engender sympathetic support, among nobles and peasants alike, for Ralltene. A side-effect of this would be that Aethlar would be unable to exercise his role as elector, and some other member of his house would have to vote for him. And if he were to be found guilty, of any related charge, even those that do not carry the penalty of execution, it would not be difficult to place someone new as the monarch of Gwethydd. He would be unfit to rule.”

“My mother would never agree to defame an anointed Gwethyn monarch in that way. We would risk alienating the entire Gwethyn nobility. It would be a humiliation for my house,” Haldetrude spoke in a level, calculating way. She was obviously not as insulted by this suggestion as she had been by her mistaken belief that Victoria had insinuated the murder of her brother. “The Caernavir favour stability in this Empire. That is what has always engendered prosperity,” She rocked her head pensively from side to side. “Besides, what would we stand to gain from such a ritualistic humiliation? I am sorry to talk to tactlessly, but the semantics of this unprecedented move risk throwing the placid men of my kingdom into chaos. I am not sure I can sanction that,”

“I also fear that my second brother, Lethlin, is wholly more politically minded than Aethlar. Furthermore, if he were to come to the throne, there is a possibility my bastard brother Gaewin could stake his own claim. Gwethydd has not experienced a civil war since the inception of the Ethican Empire. I would not have its first tumult rest on my young shoulders,” Haldetrude’s face was lined with doubt for a moment. “Is there no way to… remove Jakinius from this process? Peaceably, of course. I fear his presence in the capital erodes our northern borders with every moment,”

“I have only just offered you a chance to remove Jakinius from this process. As for the possibility of civil war or discontented nobles, it is often the case that overwhelming strength and a few chests of coin are enough to dissuade the former and the latter, respectively. It would be no more difficult a matter to maintain stability than it was when Duke Frank ensured Queen Hiltruda became the acting ruler of Gwethydd after she murdered her husband. It would be easier, now, even. The Veletian Marine is stronger, House Gracieux’s coffers are healthier. I can hardly see any downsides, really. Everything that both myself, Hiltruda and the young and beautiful Princess Haldetrude wish to prevent is prevented, and everything that we wish to occur occurs.”

“I would need certain assurances. My brother must not be found guilty of anything heinous nor dishonourable,” Haldetrude paused again. “Queen Eadrith is pregnant. If she gives birth to a boy, then the succession will be in good order. If it is a girl, then things are more uncertain. You must allow me one more chance to actively probe the voting intentions of my brother, also, before I can agree to anything as drastic as this. Finally, I must ask how you hope to deal with the third contender for the throne. Your husband, I fear, is not quite popular enough to discount Allianna’s candidacy,” She finished resolutely. The cogs began to fall into place in her mind.

The Duchess’ smile widened from cheek to cheek the moment Haldetrude began to speak of assurances. She nodded at her concerns, sympathetically, and when Allianna’s name escaped the Princess’ lips, she spoke up. “One matter at a time. We must ensure that Jakinius is not our next Emperor. Try to convince your brother against his northern hero. If he is as stubborn as I believe, then we may put our plan into place. Once that matter is dealt with, we may speak of Empress Allianna.” Victoria fingered the violet on her necklace, staring off away from the Princess. “Violette has stood proud for a long, long time, and on the back of business. It would be foolish of the city’s matriarch not to have her eggs in at least two baskets.”

“I am sure King Aethlar can be convinced. And I am sure that, in this instance, the risks and sacrifices House Caernavir are willing to take will be remembered by our future Emperor, as has always been the case. We remain, as we always have been, the champions of stability. It is a venerable position, and one which comes with much tribulation. Recognition is always welcome,” Haldetrude said primly, folding her hands over each other in a business like fashion.

“Recognition has a way of finding itself where it is most welcome,” finished Victoria, with a slight smirk. “When the right people are giving it out, at least.”

---

[Collaboration between myself and TheMoatedGrange.]

An arrow whizzed into its tree target. Immediately following the thud of the point sinking deep into the wood a yelping “yes” sounded.

A sudden glare shot from Allianna and dug into the smiling Gowa, the latter on her way to retrieve her arrow. The green leaves of the garden trees rustled overhead as the two casually maintained their independent businesses. While Gowa was dirt stained and hopping from archery target to archery target with no heed for the gentle orange petals of the yard flowers, Allianna sat in the golden sun beams, formally on a white painted bench between two twisting beech trees, a pad of paper in her lap.

Aside from the activities of Gowa, not many sounds originated in the cool shades of the imperial park, and the soft tittering of chipmunks and burrowing rodents were only blotted by the very distant grinding of wagons from the city that hung almost unseen past a thick stone wall. The birds even seemed to respect Allianna’s wishes for peace, as they fluttered nigh silently, their efforts drowned once more by another victorious cry from Gowa.

Allianna dropped her graphite piece onto her pad and groaned, “Gowa, seriously?”

The wide smiled athlete turned to her distraught cousin, “it was you who asked me to accompany you on everything save using the chamber! You can live with it.”

“I can live with it? Is that some kind of sick- sick- pun?” Allianna pinched the bridge of her nose, “just keep it down.”

Gowa made a face before shrugging and striding off to procure her loosed arrow.

The peace was once again disturbed, not this time by archery practice, but by a messenger in the characteristically verdant green livery of House Caernavir. He bowed low to Allianna in the typically pompous Gwethyn fashion. “My lady, Princess Haldetrude di Caernavir requests an urgent audience,” He said after straightening up at some length.

Allianna practically threw her pad and pencil down on her lap, a strained smile contradicting her aggressive response, “let her in!”

A distant laugh sounded from the direction of Gowa, straining Allianna’s smile all the more.

Haldetrude entered at that moment, fluttering through the gardens with all the virginal innocence that someone in her position could muster. Her long green gown swept idly across the flowers as she did so. She approached Allianna directly. “Your highness,” She proclaimed, dipping into a curtsey that was almost as strained as Allianna’s smile. “I hope you can forgive my intrusion. I would not infringe upon the time you spend in your gardens if the matter was not of the utmost importance,” She said, twisting one white-gloved hand over the other nervously. Her young face was lined with doubt and concern, and one of the silver bands holding her long auburn hair in place had slipped down a tad in her hurry to get to the gardens.

Allianna’s face softened slightly, but her eyes bore into Haldetrude curiously, “you are not intruding, surely, Princess. What urgent news do you carry?”

“It is my brother the King,” Haldetrude said with a hint of desperation. “I fear he is set to make the wrong choice in the upcoming election. It is not the choice that the Kingdom has mandated to him,” She said wryly, tapping the sigil of her mother’s house that she wore around her neck idly with her index finger. “We arrived into the city at the back of your own brother, and I fear that he is blinded by his love for chivalry and battle. Forgive me, but I fear that if your brother Jakinius becomes Emperor then this realm could see more bloodshed than it has seen for centuries,”

She paused tentatively. “Aethlar is a man with a man’s appetites. I know that I can convince him to take the truer course when he casts his vote, but I need your help,” She finished, her green eyes scanning the grass and flowers thoughtfully.

“It is well known that Jakinius aims north, as many miles as he can strew dead sons of Ethica, I agree,” Allianna nodded, “what do you want from me?

“Aethlar is not a complex man. To win his vote, you need send him a few letters… perhaps pay him a few compliments in person. Make him feel important and tantalise him with the prospect of a military role in your Empire. If you do so, he will be your own,” Haldetrude said, a small smile spreading across her face. “I am sorry that I have to ask such a base thing of you,”

“A letter?” Allianna’s face seemed to show her sudden thought, “if the parade I keep hearing about is true, why not do one better and just meet with him personally.”

“If you could spare the time,” Haldetrude nodded encouragingly. “That would work most well. If you can shower him with a few kindly words and assurances, I am sure that the attention of any female of your stature will be sure to ignite some newfound loyalty. You need only press the right buttons. Of course, you may be inundated with unwanted deliveries of romantic poems for a moon’s turn or so…”

A smile seemed to creep on Allianna’s face, “poetry aside, I think that you should accompany me on this escapade of politics. I feel that standing beside his own house member will assist in his choice.”

“Very well,” Haldetrude bowed her head in acquiescence. “I shall act as liaision in this matter, as needed,” She paused momentarily, adjusting the fallen silver band in her hair. “Aethlar is well known in the city as a supporter of Prince Jakinius. He made sure of that with his self-assured shouting at the gates this morning. Once we are assured of his loyalty to your cause, however, we can be sure that any misfortune that befalls him or any member of my house was the doing of only one faction in this three-way struggle, I believe,” Her eyes rose to meet Allianna’s. “Jakinius will remain none the wiser,”

A silver brow arched over an equally silver eye. Allianna spoke carefully, “do you expect ill of Aethlar?”

Haldetrude bit her bottom lip. “I love my brother dearly, but this is a game with players and with pieces. Aethlar is no player. I do not expect anything of this process, but my mother taught me that nor should I discount anything,” She said after a moment’s pensive reflection. Hiltruda’s presence seemed to hang heavily in the air for a moment, like a particularly gouty spectre.

“Well, let us hope he is safely tucked away from the more malicious players after he decides to place his loyalties with myself and my administration,” Allianna’s words trailed slowly, as if contemplating the sudden thickness of the air.

“This is not his world. I will not insult you by suggesting that you are not aware of the state of governance in Gwethydd. The soon he returns to his idle pageantry the better,” Haldetrude ran a hand through her hair as she watched a bird lope lazily overhead. “Our kingdom steers the middle path. I hope that, in your triumph, you will remember that we have always been the foremost friends of the Empire,” She trod carefully, not elaborating any more than was necessary.

“Oh trust me,” Allianna smiled warmly, letting her fingers fold in her lap, “I tend to remember everything.”

“As do we,” Haldetrude said with her own small smile. “From Light comes Life,” She bowed her head reverently at the motto of her own house for a moment. “I would not want to see the light of this Empire snuffed out by greed or by foolhardiness,”

Allianna stood up and gave a curt nod of her own chin, “we rise, princess, and we rise with our friends.”

“The Queen-Mother of Gwethydd sends her regards,” Haldetrude said, tapping the silvery sigil of her mother’s house of birth once again. “This Empire was birthed by a woman. The Caernavir will not stand by and watch it be torn asunder by the ambitions of man,”

“You have my thanks in that,” Allianna nodded, “very much so.”



Boom.

The doors to the Great Chamber of the Green Manse, the Caernaviri residence in Lalrial, swung upon with a crash. Through them stepped Lady Eadgifu di Faz-Caernavir, the bastard daughter of the deceased Aethlar V. There were what sounded to be two immense intakes of breath and a hurried scampering, and the silver-haired woman took a few strides into the room only to see a brief flurry of colour and the door at the other end slam shut. Her brother, Lord Gaewin, looked up at her blinkedly, his black robes in a state of temporary disarray. Eadgifu stepped gingerly over the discarded footman's robes that lay between her and her brother and approached.

"Now now, brother," She said teasingly, swishing over to the desk in the centre of the room. "There will be time for imperial pleasures later. You have a meeting with a Tallurian delegate..." She paused, running a hand through her silvery hair. "I would tell you not to be tempted by her beauty, but I'd just be wasting my breath," She laughed chidingly, poured herself a glass of the sickly but bitter grapefruit wine and sauntered out through the same door which had just slammed moments ago, only stopping to pick up the dropped clothing and calling out playfully into the next room. "You left something behind, Aedlan!"

Gaewin ran a hand through his dark hair. The blush about his features paled as he realised that he had just been caught in situ moments before meeting a Queen. A Tallurian, nonetheless. He had studied their magic as much as the literature in the Eldva had allowed, but there was something mystical and slightly ethereal about them that struck him as particularly intimidating. Clambering back onto his seat, the willowy Prime Magistrate poured himself a glass of the wine, downing it in one gulp, then straightened the parchments on his desk.

The arrival of the Tallurians, Queen Varminia of Tellaria and her youngest sibling was not dramatic. The two women were accompanied by a number of guards in the white and crimson regalia of Tellaria as they arrived at the Green Manse. After which they proceeded into the manor house.

The Tallurian Queen looked somewhat drained, her face, normally youthful was showing her age more plainly than it often did and for a change she actually looked middle aged. Varminia had ruled for nearly 20 years, and her weary gaze reflected the strain that such management caused and the toll it took upon people. Still she moved with confidence and purpose regardless of how tired she looked. As she often did Varminia was clad in white and green, softer colors that augmented her red hair and eyes.

Her younger companion, Valoria on the other hand was possessed of great youth and beauty with that spark that only the truly young posses, no matter how well preserved on looked. She was dressed in crimson, perhaps causing something of an overdose of the dark red color, in fine and rather tight robes that reflected her place as a practitioner of at least one form of the magic arts.

Gaewin rose as the doors swung open to admit the two royals and bowed lowly to both as they entered, firstly to Queen Varminia, to whom he addressed as "Your Majesty," and secondly to the Princess, who was addressed as "Your Royal Highness,". The grandiose gestures common to the Gwethyn reverence for etiquette aside, he introduced himself. "My name is Gaewin di Faz-Caernavir. I represent His Majesty King Aethlar VI as his Prime-Magistrate in Lalrial. I thank you for agreeing to come here to treat with me today, Your Majesty, and I regret His Majesty's absence. He is much concerned with the upcoming imperial election, having arrived into the city only today,"

An attendant hurried forward, pouring out three more glasses of ambery grapefruit wine. "Please do sit," Gaewin motioned, only taking his own seat after the two ladies took their own.

"Of course I understand King Aethlar's reasons for not being present." Varminia spoke evenly as she took her seat, crimson eyes glancing over Gaewin as she took his measure. "It is unfortunate however that a matter of importance sees only the presence of one head of titular head of household." Still Varminia did not seem offended by the lack of the King's presence and she smiled, a weary smile but one that had clearly once been full of life.

Valoria for her part curtsied to the prime magistrate and smiled winningly before she took her seat. "It is a pleasure to meet you Gaewin." There was some trace of amusement in the young woman's voice as she noted the lack of effect she was having on the man.

"Truth be told, your Majesty, King Aethlar is not predisposed towards the intricacies of marriage contracts. I am sure you shall encounter him in one charming form or another during your time in the city at any rate," He paused, drumming his fingers on the desk for a moment thoughtfully. "Do you know much of Prince Lethlin?" Gaewin said after a moment, looking between Valoria and Varminia.

"That he is well bred and educated, and that he will make a good match for my sister here." Varminia said after a brief pause. Marra had been supposed to arrange for a match for Valoria years ago and had failed to do it. Varminia could see a use in ties to Gwethydd and to house Caernavir and it would resolve an old problem at the same time. She looked over at the young woman beside her as if prompting Valoria to speak as well.

"I can't wait to meet him." The younger Tallurian said quickly as she brushed stray red hairs out of her face and smiled. "And I look forward to seeing your university. It has quite the reputation."

"Prince Lethlin is well-learned indeed, and a keen administrator. Above all, he is kind, and handsome. He has all of his teeth too!" Gaewin laughed for a moment at his own joke. He nodded enthusiastically at Valoria's comments about the university.

"The Eldva is an integral part of Harksmoor. You will be living in the Royal Apartments in Caernan Castle which means it is only a short walk to be amongst its sprawling cloisters," He smiled wistfully, remembering his own roots in the institution. "I know that scholars there have been very excited about the possibility of this betrothal. Tallurian magic has always been a popular field of study and debate. Perhaps you could lecture enough to enlighten some of our students?" He suggested amicably, taking a sip of the amber wine. Discussion of the academic institution certainly seemed to have perked up his mood.

"Perhaps." Valoria said still smiling. "But I'm not fit to teach anyone. I am still learning myself." There seemed to be some genuine modesty as she spoke. "Maybe in the future though, once my own studies are finished."

"Now, onto the circumstances of the match," Gaewin said slightly tersely, turning a little more to the Queen. "This process can be somewhat impersonal. There will be discussions that will need to be had between lesser administrators; transportation of goods, dowries, the such, but I am wondering on a slightly more personal level what motivated your nation to seek this match. The Kingdom of Gwethydd is, of course, wholly grateful for the opportunity to regild its arms with such beautiful stock," He, flashing Valoria a winning smile.

Varminia did not hesistate as she replied fluidly. If there had been any attempt to make her hesitate or to reveal something with a probing question it had failed. "We have long had strong ties to many of our neighbors. And while we do not share a border there is much to be gained from joining our common cultural elements together." It was likely clear to what the reigning female queen was refering to as she spoke. "And Valoria would be miserable if we did not send her somewhere where she could continue her studies."

"Well there is no chance of such a disruption in Gwethydd. I am sure that Prince Lethlin will continue to spend a good amount of time here in Lalrial, too. There is little chance of one becoming disenfranchised from the educational establishments, as it were," Gaewin nodded slowly. "Does all of this sound amicable to you, Princess Valoria?"

"It sounds wonderful." Valoria said after a moment, seemingly quite pleased with the arrangement as it was being worked out.

"I am glad that we could come to some sort of accord so soon. You may travel to Harksmoor at your own leisure, and spend some time living with my sister Princess Haldetrude and Queen Eadrith in order to acclimatise yourself to the Gwethyn court and get to know Prince Lethlin before you marry him," He continued primly, straightening up his parchments and smiling. "You will also have the opportunity to meet your future mother-in-law Queen Hiltruda," He said slightly more ominously, the corners of his mouth turning down momentarily.

"I had hoped to accompany your delegation when it returned after the election. This is to be a historic event and I would like to witness it." Valoria smiled winningly again. "I am eager to meet my betrothed and the rest of your family. Should they all be so charming as you I am sure I will fit right in."

Gaewin smiled at Valoria's diplomacy. "I have an excellent feeling you shall fit in perfectly,"

For those who were experienced with Marra Tallurian's racous and vibrant parties this one might actually have seemed rather tame on the whole. There were relatively few guests gathered upon this night, with only perhaps twenty of them, half drawn from the ranks of the most regular party goers to frequent the lady's parties.

But apart from the numbers being slimmer than usual most of the usual elements were present in abundance. Copious supplies of the finest wines the city had to offer, spreads of foods of many kinds, even music courtesy of a well paid minstrel whose services Marra had employed exclusively for years since her arrival.

Thus far however the guest of honor, and the guest whose presence was required both had yet to arrive. Lady Marra was her usual cheerful self, flitting about throughtout the large chamber as the guests trickled in, offering her greetings and welcoming them.

Aldrick was the first of the Acithan guests to enter the room. His wide smile hinting at just how much fun he had before the party and how much he expected to have during it. He scanned the room, searching for Vorion and, not finding him, seeking out Marra. Having found her he made his way over to her.

"Sending that dress ahead of time was a stroke of genius" He said to her.

"Why yes. Yes it was" Marra said with a grin as she leaned over and embraced her friend, glad to see him back on his feet after the attacks just a few short days again. "I'm glad to see you well again."

"And that is in no small part thanks to you" Aldrick returned the hug. "But seriously, the dress was brilliant. Just close enough to what she would normally have worn that I didn't have to try too hard to get her to wear it. Also..." His smile seemed to become slightly mischevious, "It gave me an excuse to have my servants do her hair for this evening. She fought me a bit on that part." He let out a fake sigh. "So my servants only had an hour to do their magic. Still, she looks presentable at the very least."

"Considering the one awaiting her finds her disirable in full plate, I don't think you need to worry about presentation." Marra gave a laugh as she pulled away slightly and the embrace ended. "Now if Vorion went and got himself drunk before she even showed up..." Marra paused and covered her mouth with a hand as she smiled in geniune humor. "Oops, I was almost a hypocrite."

"I wouldn't be too worried about that" Aldrick commented. "My sister and Lady Oktavia were right behind me. Oktavia promised to cox my sister to the party in due time so they should... And there they are" Aldrick gestured towards the entrance and the two women that were walking through it. Both women had come wearing dresses, something that might surprise those who knew them as "the Lioness" and Arch Commander of the shield sisters. In fact both seemed perfectly comfortable in their dresses, although Lynette would, from time to time, brush her hands against the sides of her dress as if she wanted to lift it up so that she could walk faster. Her hair had been put into an elebarate braid, the likes of which could actually take an hour to be properly done.

"Marra!" Lynette said as she approached. "How good of it is to see you again!" She wrapped the older woman in a brief hug as she said "I hope my brother hasn't been too much of a bother." Aldrick merely rolled his eyes.

"Lynette, how good of you to come" Marra's smile was wide and guileless as she returned the brief embrace and then laughed. "Never fear, your brother has been the soul of courtesy and delightful." She winked as she spoke before turning her gaze towards Oktavia.

"And welcome Lady Oktavia, I have not had so lofty a member of your order grace my parties with her presence before. It is a true honor." The red haired woman nodded, her broad smile still clear on her features.

"The honor is mine" Oktavia said with a curtsy. The smile she showed Marra almost seemed to indicate she was in on an inside joke. "I fear we have too few opportunities for social gatherings up in the north. This is a... pleasant change of pace to say the least."

"Is Avoriel here?" Lynette didn't quite cut in. "I have been looking forward to speaking with her."

"Of course. I made sure she came, besides she was as eager to see you again." Marra nodded before turning with a smooth motion and pointing across the chamber to a bank of couches upon which several people, two of them clearly sporting variants of the classic Tallurian appearance sat talking. "She and Vorion are over there."

"Shall we?" Aldrick began, only to shrug as Lynette headed towards the two Tallurians before he could even finish his question. He flashed Marra a smile before heading after her. Oktavia, for her part, began a conversation about the 'dreadful' state of northern fashion with Marra.

"Avoriel!" Lynette embraced her cousin much in the same way she had Marra. "It has been too long."

"And Lord Vorion" She seemed as if she wanted to bow, but restrained herself. "Thank you for the lovely dress, but I must ask. What is the occasion?"

Avoriel rose from her seat as Lynette called her name, the pale young woman with long waves of lighter than normal hair for her family was as ill used to wearing a dress as her cousin but also was clad appropriately for the occassion as she rose and returned the hug. "I heard of the trouble on the road here, I regret that I was not with you to face the vile fiends and purify their blood of the unholy corruption."

Lord Vorion also rose and then lowered himself in a sweeping motion that turned into a deep bow of respect before rising again. His eyes were focused on nothing save the fair creature before him as he spoke. "We were to meet again, and to behold the fair Lynette once more is occasion enough."

"Fair?" Lynette turned her head to the side. "I wouldn't go that far." Aldrick struggled to keep his smile from turning into a stupid grin. He looked at Avoriel and, making sure Lynette didn't see, gave her a look that seemed to say "don't you dare interrupt this."

Avoriel met her cousin's eyes with her own and nodded, perhaps a bit of mirth leading to her own lips quirking upwards as well.

"But you are most fair, the fairest creature I have seen in my life." Vorion said quickly with words that radiated pure sincerity, "And I am honored to be graced with your presence."

Aldrick's smile widened as Lynette's gaze drifted towards the ground, her cheeks reddening slightly. "I... I think you must not have ever seen any of my brothers companions then." Aldrick raised an eyebrow at that statement, noticing the almost unpercievable beginings of a smile on her lips. Aldrick stepped back and gestured for Avoriel to follow him before heading back towards Marra and Oktavia.

But Vorion shook his head and smiled at Lynette. "I have seen them and they hold nary a candle before the raging flames of your beauty." As he spoke Avoriel seemed to take her cousin's hint and slowly withdrew from the area as well.

"Now I know you're just making this up" Lynette responded, finally allowing a smile to form on her lips. She had a different air about her. She certainly wasn't insecure, but she seemed almost hesitant. As if unsure what the next step in a complex dance was. Her eyes seemed to focus on a particular place on the floor right in front of Vorion. Finally she raised her head so that she could look at Vorion's face. "I don't think I'm well suited for this" She said, not indicating if "this" meant her dress, parties, or simply being complimented.

"I swear to you that I am not making it up." The man's voice was again sincere and he certainly didn't seem to have a false bone is his body, at least from how he acted. "You are the fair Lynette, resplendent and beautiful. You have slain monsters and fought armies. You have naught to worry about."

Lynette couldn't help but laugh as she listened to Vorion. She felt herself easing up; she had not even been aware that she had been tense to begin with. "Lord Vorion" She said after a moment. "You are most certainly correct. Thank you. Truly. For this dress and your compliments."

She glanced over towards Aldrick and Marra, noticing her brother watching her even as he conversed with Marra. When Aldrick winked at her it took all of her self control to not roll her eyes. The man certainly knew how to jab at her. Chosing to ignore him, she returned her full attention to Vorion. "I suspect my brother played some part in this" She said, looking down at the dress. It suddenly made sense why it fit her so perfectly. "He always did like to tease me." Her eyes widened suddenly. "Not to say I think you're teasing me."

"You are most welcome." Vorion said happily. And when Aldrick was mentioned the Tallurian nodded. "I will not lie, I sought aid for this. And I thank your brother for his help for it has earned me the chance to speak to you like this, with no crisis to call you away at a moments notice." He gestured towards the couch from which he and Avoriel had previously stood. "Would you care to sit and speak with me?"

"Of course" Lynette took the offered seat. "I feel somewhat guilty relaxing here while my other younger brother holds the north" She confessed with a frown.

Vorion sat down as well beside her and was still smiling as he offered reassurance. "You have never left Acitha before, you've never taken a break. Your brother is a warrior like you, have faith in him and enjoy it. After 14 years you can take a vacation for a few weeks."

"Perhaps you are right" She said with a sigh. She sat there in silence for a few moments before asking "And what have you been up to? The last time I saw you was up in Chave. Wasn't that about a year ago now?" She clasped her hands together in her lap, slowly rubbing her thumbs together. "I can't say I've kept abreast of the goings on in your homeland."

Vorion paused for a moment before he replied. "The Queen recalled me and then sent me here to keep Marra from spending all of her stipends on wine." He glanced around the room before looking back and Lynette then laughing. "As you can see, I've had mixed amounts of success."

"I think she's rubbing off on my brother" Lynette commented with a raised eyebrow after glancing over at Marra and Aldrick. "Still, I doubt that is a duty that requires your full attention."

"It isn't. And my other time has been well spent. Perhaps the next time we meet upon the field of battle I won't need to be saved. Well, maybe.." He shrugged and looked slightly awkward there for a moment himself, his skill at arms not exactly the high point. "And I have made new compositions that I would share with the fair Lynette should she wish to hear them."

"The north is always in need of more strong sword arms" Lynette commented. "And I do recall you reciting a few of your pieces for me up in Chave" She paused as a servant handed her and Vorion a glass of wine. Lynette eyed her wine for a moment before continuing "I must admit I am somewhat curious about these new compositions of yours."

"If that isn't to your liking." Vorion gestured to the wine glass fairly knowingly in a way that suggested he knew it wasn't, "There are other options. Marra has all manner of drinks at these things."

He waved a hand towards one of the servants to summon one of them from across the room before turning back to Lynette. "I'll gladly share them with you but they are not for the ears of others. Such words are for the fair muse who has so inspired me and for her alone." It was clear who the muse he referred to was.

"Unfortunately wine is the drink of civilized people." She took a small sip of the wine, wincing at the taste. "I would hate to present myself as some sort of barbarian" She set the wine glass down as the servant approached. "Could you" She leaned towards the servant, "fetch me some ale?"

"Of course milady" The servant swept into a bow before heading off to fetch the specified drink. He returned a moment later with a glass, the same kind as the wine was in, filled with ale.

"Now this" She said with a raised eyebrow as she took the glass from the servant, "is something I've never seen before." She took a small, almost dainty, sip of the ale, seeming to be tasting a fine wine instead of ale.

"I told you, Marra caters to all tastes." Vorion said with a smile. "And I think it suits you." Indicating the wine glass filled with ale instead as he did so and then he raised his own glass. "To the fair Lynette, princess of Acitha, my muse and inspiration."

She raised her own glass as well as she said "If I didn't know better I would say you were trying to court me." She spoke with a smile, her tone indicating that that wouldn't be a bad thing.

Vorion opened his mouth to reply and began to speak. "The fair Lynette is mos" Vorion was cut off as one of the more inebriated party goers staggered past the couch and tripped over his own feet, lurching forward and catching himself on the back of it, but not before the contents of his glass flew fowards to spray out onto the two nobles seated there.

The nobleman rose from his seat and turned towards the man, his expression that had previously been so cheerful now far darker. Before the outburst came though the man muttered a slurred apology and began to stagger away again.

"I'm afraid I've ruined your gift" Lynette said, wine dripping from her hair, only to fall onto the soaked shoulders of the dress. She seemed more shocked than anything as she rose from her seat. She sighed as she caught sight of Aldrick and Oktavia heading towards her. "I fear I will have to be leaving the party early"

The moment had been ruined but the man's brief flash of anger faded as quickly as it had appeared as he turned back to Lynette. "Even wine stained, you are still radiant." He said before smiling despite what had happened. "It is fortunate I bought you a second gift." And then after a few seconds of thinking, as the others were getting closer he spoke once again. "I would be most honored if you would grace me with your presence again perhaps upon the morrow? You wished to hear my compositions and I wish to share them with you. Perhaps where no wine addled intrusions will spoil the moment."

"I would like that very much Lord Vorion" Lynette had time to answer before Aldrick was at her shoulder.

"I'm sorry" Aldrick said as he placed a hand on Lynette's shoulder, making a face as he touched the wet fabric of the dress. "But I fear I must escort my sister home before her fragile pride is damaged further."

"My pride is not fragile!" She snapped. The ferocity and suddenness with which she spoke caused Aldrick to take a step back.

"Yes, yes" Oktavia said as she stepped up and began to guide Lynette towards the exit. "I've got this if you want to stick around a little longer." Aldrick frowned as he seemed to battle with himself internally, eventually deciding to return to his conversation with Marra and Avoriel.

"Well that was entertaining" He commented, his tone seeming to say something else entirely.

Vorion seemed to be in a mix of disappointment and happiness, an odd mixture of expressions warring on his face before he got up from where he had been sitting and made his way out of the chamber himself, likely returning to his own quarters within the estate.

As Aldrick returned to Marra and Avoriel Marra glanced in his direction with a look that was slightly questioning. He slightly shook his head and Marra frowned, ever so slightly and her gaze turned, slightly narrowed red eyes searching the crowd on the whole for the person who had meddled. Outwardly though she was like always.

"Oh Aldrick, that's dreadful what happened. And Lynette had only just arrived. It was such a pretty dress too."

"Yes. Yes it was." Aldrick said woefully. "Still," he almost whispered as he leaned in towards Avoriel "I believe we can call this a successful skirmish, even if the decisive battle we wished for was inadvertently avoided." He ran a hand through his blonde hair, a warm smile spreading across his face once again. "I think this has set a nice tone for the rest of the campaign."

Avoriel nodded after a moment a smile showing on her own features. "I wish him luck in the coming campaign. He deserves it." She glanced over to where her other cousin had been sitting. "It was painful watching him pine and she never quite realized."

"It is tragic about the dress though. That was the one he picked for her." Marra said shaking her head. "I think I know one former regular who is off the list for a while." She gestured making a tsking sound as she then reached out to take a glass from a passing servant. "Bottoms up." She raised it and quaffed the liquid in a single long draught.

"Not holding back anymore I see" Aldrick commented. He was tempted to follower her lead, but decided against it. "You said that was the one he picked for her... Meaning there is another dress?" The question came out almost as a statement.

"Yes" Marra said laughing. "He's got rather simple tastes, but to really impress I helped out. I think you'll have fun with that one." She winked.

Avoriel looked at her aunt then her cousin and then shook her head. "You know Lyn isn't going to want to wear something too fancy. I know I wouldn't. It's hard to move."

"But you would look so lovely in a fancier dress" Aldrick said. "And you need not worry about that. Now that she has ruined the dress Vorion gave her it will be that much easier for me to guilt her into wearing it." His smile seemed to take on a sinister nature. "Ah! And of course I'll ensure that my servants have more time to see to her hair and makeup. She will outshine any other woman in the room." He paused for a moment before adding "And she will try her hardest to hide her embarassment. Ah. But you need not fear cousin" He said. "I am sure we can arrange for you to look just as radiant." He gave Marra a certain look; the kind that one troublemaking kid might give to another.

"Be careful Aldrick." Avoriel said in a teasing voice. "She did snap at you once tonight, push too far and she could beat you up." And she stuck her tongue out in a distinctly unladylike fashion at her cousin. "And if you try to stick me in one of those, I'll give you a curse that Aunty Marra can't just magic away." It was clear she was joking.

"Take care cousin" Aldrick said. "You're beginning to sound like what I'd imagine Serapina was like when she was younger." He shivered in an overly exagerated fashion.

"There are worse things to model yourself after. Serapina is a very successful and respected Shield Sister. Mother speaks highly of her abilities." Avoriel deadpanned and stared at Aldrick for a long moment before finally cracking a smile. "She's also" She leaned forward and spoke softly, "awful boorish and has almost no sense of humor." And then Avoriel pulled back again.

Marra laughed herself. "Avoriel, you have to enjoy yourself more. Go find a nice guy and talk to him. That's a wonderful thing about parties. You meet people."

"No offense Aunty but I don't think your crowd is for me most of the time." Avoriel said rather bluntly, but not unkindly.

"Of course effeminate southern men aren't suited for you" Aldrick said. "Perhaps you could find someone better suited to you in the north?"

"Well I haven't had much luck so far." Avoriel replied. "And I have spent time in the north."

"We'll find someone for you yet." Aldrick said. "Just give it some more time."

---

(Sparing you all the pain of hearing Vorion's poetry, you can thank me. :P)
The walled garden in the Tallurian estate within Lalrial was styled after the one in Rianis, that the one in Rianis was largely impressive because it was literally the only place in the floating city that had much in way of vegetation at all seemed to have been lost on the architects of the estate.

Still it was a pleasant enough place and the sound of voices drifted through the trees and other plant life. There were two people in the garden on this day, one a red haired man and the other a women with long blonde hair.

Lord Vorion Tallurian finished speaking and bowed to his captive audience in the form of Lynette Zarand and then straightened up again with an expression notably less confident than normal upon his handsome features. "How did the fair Lynette like my compositions in her honor?"

"They were lovely Lord Vorion" Lynette said. Her head was turned down so that she could look at her hands clasped in her lap, locks of blonde hair obscured much of her face from view. She rubbed her thumbs together as she said "It must have taken you a long time to... come up with such a variety of compositions."

"I'm pleased you enjoyed them." The voice actually sounded relieved for a moment as well as happy at the news. And then he lowered himself down to take a seat on the bench beside Lynette. "Not long at all, I merely thought of my muse and they flowed into being. Mostly. I did get stuck a few times." He laughed.

"I don't believe I'm the kind of muse that many men make poetry about" She said. A small smile was barely visible through her hair. She fiddled with her thumbs for a moment longer before replacing her smile with a frown. She rose from her seat and took a few steps away, her left arm moving as if to rest on the hilt of a sword that was not there. "Lord Vorion" She turned her gaze to the Tellarian, her voice taking on a serious tone. "What are your intentions?"

As Lynette frowned and then moved away, taking a stance that looked rather martial and speaking in a more serious tone Vorion took a few seconds to reply himself, seemingly caught off guard by the development. "At this moment my intentions are to share with my inspiration the things that I have created in her honor, and..." He paused as if steeling himself up for something before continuing. "perhaps to make you see the nature of my feelings for you." He finished a bit awkwardly.

"I understand" Lynette said after a moment. Her frown seemed to deepen as she shifted her gaze to the garden. "Our families are already tied in an alliance. And... I am not exactly at a prime age." She didn't quite wince as she spoke. "I will have few, if any, children. And those that I have will have to bear the Zarand name."

"And?" Vorion stood up himself and in what might have been a surprise of Lynette listed off a bunch of negatives about herself. "I do not care about that. You are who you are, and it is that person who I care for, not the trappings or the details of lineage. You are the fair Lynette who saved my life and has inspired me, my fondest wish is to be with you."

Lynette looked down for a moment before returning her gaze to Vorion. "I will take your feelings into consideration in the future." She flashed him a smile, curtsied, and made her exit.