The voice announcing the arrival of the King and Queen upon their balcony in front of the massive amount of people in the court of Corevial Castle was almost drowned out by shouting, clapping, and other noises of both joy and despair. The king raised his hand, as the court became eerily quiet. "Today marks the coming of age party for my daughter Madeline." he started, as the sound became loud again. Most of the people had not seen the daughter since her birth, unknowing of how she looked, acted, or if she even existed. "I have opened my home to all today, in the goodness of my heart. My feast for your bellies. My hospitality for your souls. My daughter for your sons." he continued, a large grin spread across his bearded face. His wife shared the same look of pride as she watched the people below. "When the bell tolls, the main doors will open and you will be welcomed in. Later in the night we request a son from each family to appear for their family name in the tournament for my daughter's hand!" A large explosion of cheers and clapping exploded from the crowd as both King and Queen took their leave back into their home.

Within the walls people bustled wildly setting up food, entertainment, and the like both in and outside the castle. This event was as grand as one could expect, and possibly one of the most financially unstable events as things shipped in weeks before from the Diovire costing more money than anything the castle had previously purchased. Anyone that was anyone would be at this event. The large line of the most skilled knights stood still in front of the crowded doors, waiting and watching carefully for any suspicious activity or people that could pass through today. The event would last all day and be a long night for everyone involved.

Madeline was being dressed by her handmaidens, to appear the best she could for the multiple suitors that would be available tonight. Though she was barely a few hours into being thirteen years old, she was now considered a 'woman' in the eyes of the kingdom and was to be paired off with someone before the night's end. "Stand still Madeline before I prick you!" one of the older handmaidens spoke, as she pinned various parts of Madeline's dress, making final adjustments before the feast would begin. "I can barely breathe as is!" the young girl chirped back a scowl draped across her lips as she tried to remain still. She was nervous for the most part, despite not knowing anything but the life she had laid before her.

Upon the hour the bells began tolling. Within the first two rings, the large doors began slowly opening as a small path was made between the line of knights. "No pushing!" they warned, their swords drawn. The several lines of knights within the walls making a hallway of space between them would be intimidating enough for all that entered. Hopefully. People began trickling in, areas designated for higher families and areas designated for the common folk were clearly shown with the amount of food and how grand the decoration and adornments were. In front of it all sat the King and Queen surrounded by their closest members of their party and an empty seat for the princess when she would come down from her chambers.

The road had been long and arduous, first by boat, and then by horse, and despite Tybalt's love for sailing, he found himself terribly bored during this trip, for he was not sailing, but merely being a passenger. It was boring, to say the least. For the last few days he had gone clad in easy clothes. A tunic, of ample make, reflecting his status as being merely the nephew to the lord. It sat well on his shoulders however, and he had grown accustomed to it. For once, he had worn something other than armor or tight gambesons. His sword had always been by his side, of course, since he was the self-proclaimed protector of the Gully family, and by extent that of the whole Quell Sea region. But it was merely that - self proclaimed - and so he did little to actually carry weight behind this title.

But now the time had come for their arrival within the Corevial castle. A beautiful place, he had remembered, for he had spent a long time in this castle. But it had changed since his last visit and Tybalt could not help but feel the city looked more beautiful - a good thing to some, a staunch reminder to Tybalt that the city looked much worse when there were no festivities going on. As they had arrived, they had rested, as the castle had not been fit for a feast yet apparently. It was a welcome rest for Tybalt, who had grown tired from the long travel time on his own horse, which had an uncomfortable saddle.

And so, after getting the required shut-eye to refresh himself, he had changed out of his comfortable clothes and gotten dressed. He wore a thick black woolen gambeson. It was topped off by some metal shoulder pieces, for which he required the help of a younger servant of the Gullies to put it on, since the required clasps were out of reach for Tybalt himself. It was heavy all together but Tybalt was a strong man, and he could take it. The outfit was characteristic of many knights from the Quell Sea, although there were few of them. Normally they wore a boiled leather hauberk with it, but for this festive context it seemed out of place to be wearing a full set of armor. The reason that many Quell Sea knights opted for these leather hauberks was that they were something that was easier to obtain than chainmail, since there were ample mountains or ore deposits to be found on the islands, and buying them would be expensive. It was a luxury usually reserved for wartime.

Now that Tybalt looked a bit more knightly, and therefore fashionable for the court, he had strapped his bastard sword to his leather belt. It was good to be armed in this city - despite the fact that it was the capital and therefore well protected, it was also the biggest city and therefore, the criminals had the easiest pickings. So, better to be prepared than to be caught out, Tybalt happened to know from his past experiences within the city. He opened the door of his room in the tavern and proceeded to leave, heading to the castle to find his uncle.

This proved to be an easy task given the fact that his uncle was a quite recognizable man, and not only that, but his uncle would never mingle with the regular nobles that stood outside the doors, waiting to enter. Rather, Tybalt found the man standing somewhere a bit more presentable, not looking like common rabble, and above all, with some protection of nearby guardsmen of the Gully family. Tybalt was certain these men would leave as soon as they entered the castle, because it would be frowned upon if for some reason one of the families brought their own soldiers along. An act of aggression, some might even say.

“Uncle,” Tybalt hailed the man as he approached, bowing his head slightly out of respect - and out of habit. “It would seem that the king expects us to put forth a man of sorts,” he continued, now looking up at his uncle and frowning slightly. Something was troubling Tybalt, visibly, but he did not speak of it, for it seemed like an inappropriate time to bring up concerns that could otherwise be discussed in private. “I.. have not seen Ithobal yet, is he present? I mean.. he is your heir.”

Between Ithobal's escapades at sea, and the lack of time spent at home, Ithobal could be anywhere right about now, Tybalt figured. Tybalt said nothing of it, but it was well known in the court that Tybalt did not particularly like any of Lord Arthur's sons, all of them having abandoned their father at one point of their lives - save ser Lucan of the Kingsguard. Lucan was a man that still commanded Tybalts respect, although Tybalt could not deny that it weighed heavy upon his heart that Lucan had also forfeited his duties to the Gully family. Tybalt was pulled out of these thoughts with the tolling of the bells, signalling the opening of the doors.

“Uncle,” he continued as he looked upon the man with a careful look in his eyes. “The bells have tolled, and we must enter the castle, that we may enjoy these 'festivities' held in the name of the princess.” He noted carefully that these festivities were, indeed, not held for the pleasure of the princess, to ensure her enjoyment in this important day for her, but instead, were held merely for political gains of the kings family. He stepped two steps away from his uncle, looking at the doors, where the crowd was now dispersing inside. “May the divine God have mercy on her soul, for she will be wed to a man not for the divine love of God, but for the gains of her family, to become naught more than an article of diplomacy.”

Having spoken to himself, and catching himself halfway through, he felt slightly embarrassed, and turned to his uncle again. “Uncle, let us go inside. We would not want to insult the king by being late.” And so, Tybalt would stay by his families side as they would inevitably enter the castle. Tybalt watched over them carefully - primarily the ladies of the Quell Sea, for they were merely ladies, and as strong and fire-willed some of them were, it only took one man with a knife or blade to slice them through and end their lives - unfortunately. But if Tybalt could stop that, he would.



Catarina had spent most of the journey towards the Corevial castle on either a boat, or inside one of the carriages that took them to the castle. A calm journey, for the most part, which she spent conversing with her family. Catarina was under the impression that the feast would be similar to a ball of sorts, filled with wonderful people and wonderful shows. It wasn't long before her family shattered her hopes and revealed it was really just a feast to marry off the princess, lady Madeline herself. Catarina seemed to recall that the girl was born one day, but she had been so young, she barely knew anything. Then it was revealed that nobody really knew anything about the girl, for she lived a sheltered life, and this would be the first time anyone saw her. Perhaps, Catarina thought, that would be reason to be excited?

She must've been beautiful, Catarina mused, wondering if the princess looked anything like her father, the King. She hoped not. The king was a brave, mighty man, that much she would admit any day, and she did truly adore the king. But he was not a very handsome man, that much could be said. His wife on the other hand was very pretty, Catarina had found, and resembled her own mother in some form or way. Somehow that put Catarina's mind to ease. Yes, surely the princess would be beautiful.

Soon enough they found themselves entering the Corevial Castle, and it was quite a sight. Catarina released plenty of 'ah!'s' as they rode by the many decorated houses - none of which would look half as good during the usual times in the city. But Catarina would not know that and so she merely enjoyed the many sights she got to enjoy. Then the kings speech came, which was quite amazing as well. There were so many people waiting to get in!

Finally, when things calmed down and people were waiting to get into the castle, Catarina turned to her oldest sister, Myriam. While cousin Tybalt would converse with their father, Arthur, Catarina found time to talk to her sister, whom Catarina knew was quite wise when it came to these kind of things, being the eldest. “Myriam,” she said, grabbing a hold of Myriams dress sleeve and tugging on it lightly to get a hold of her attention.

Catarina herself was wearing a modest and relatively simple dress, being both the youngest and, well, a lady of the Quell Sea. It was not a secret that the Quell Sea people were modest and lived a sober life, whether by necessity due to not being so rich, or just because life was meant to be simple.

“Do you think we'll get to see the Princess soon? Have you ever seen her? Will the feast last long? I do hope so. Have you ever been before? We should just stick with father, right? He knows what's best. Hm, yes, I am sure he does know. He's father after all, don't you agree?”

Lady Grey Coulbourne had been sent to the capitol to represent House Coulbourne of Vaernin Forest at the Princess Madeline's coming of age festival. As she was a daughter and not a son, disgraced within the forest, and not even the first born child of the house, this had not been meant as a polite gesture. But at least she wasn't the only person being used by her family as an insult – instead of sending one of her brothers, her distant cousin, Nyle, was being submitted to the tourney for the princess' hand. The people of the forest had never thought much of the Ainsworths' so called 'divine right' to rule. They made it known at every opportunity.

But whatever her family thought of their's, Grey couldn't help but be awed at the sheer scope of the festival. It was a rare occasion that she left the forest boundary (there was a pang in her chest at that – she was being sent away from her home, her family, her girls) and she took in each new sight with a breathless sort of wonder. How the sunlight shined on the city, unfiltered by a forest canopy. How cobblestone wrapped around buildings and covered the earth. The multitude of colors and smells and people crowding around, all reveling in the festivities.

It almost made it worth suffering through several hours of servants dressing her in a tight, heavy, restrictive forest green gown, and tugging and pulling at her hair until long, wild curls were forced into an intricate series of braids and knots at the nape of her neck.

Nothing was worth the guard breathing down her neck, though.

Lord and Lady Coulbourne knew their daughter. The guard, a noble, middle aged man named Sir Jory had been a loyal servant of the family for years. He knew better than to take his eyes off Grey, lest she escape.

And so he ushered her through the gates, past the throngs of people, and to the designated Coulbourne area, bedecked in the blues and greens of her house. The weight of his stare forced her into a lavish seat overlooking to crowd, and he took his position by her side, ramrod straight and the picture of vigilance.

Grey was unimpressed. And restless. If she had to suffer through this, then she at least wanted to be given the chance to enjoy herself and explore. Maybe she'd even find her betrothed. She watched the laughing, happy, excited people milling about, going this way and that. She lasted a whole three minutes of silence.

"Sir Jory," she finally spoke up. The old knight didn't react, but she knew he was listening. "I must relieve myself." She could practically feel his weariness. 

"You had ample opportunity before the festivities, my lady, and you will have opportunity after."

"Yes but I didn't have to go before, and I doubt I'll last until after." The old knight remained stil. "You could escort me," she offered, knowing how easy it would be to lose him in the crowd. He, of course, knew this too. He remained still. Grey screwed her mouth to the side in displeasure as she looked at him. Then she schooled her expression into one of wide-eyes sincerity. 

"Sir Jory," she said, her voice earnest, "if I am not allowed to relieve myself," she took a pause, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. "I will explode." His eyes snapped forward immediately. Grey had to fight to keep her face straight as she watched color tint his cheeks. "I'll make such a mess in this lovely festival, all over my lovely dress and these lovely people. I imagine your armor will rust after and–"

"As my lady wishes," he finally conceded, cutting off her growing voice. Grey couldn't help the triumphant grin that broke across her face. With a sigh, the guard  waited until she stood from her seat and trotted forward towards the crowd. He followed close behind – but not close enough. 

The moment she was in the embrace of the buzzin crowd, she ducked and ran. Grey heard Sir Jory give a spluttered start behind her as he began trying to push people out of the way to follow. But Grey was smaller, younger, and far more agile, even in her heavy gown and pinching shoes. A delighted smile grew on her face as she weaved between festival gowers like they were clustered trees in the forest. She glanced over her shoulder to see if she'd lost her guard–

Only to run straight into something tall and hard. Grey stumbled back with an oof! and looked up to see a tall, handsome man, fair skinned, dark hair, and with the most striking blue eyes. She was stunned for a moment from the impact before glancing over her shoulder again to see Sir Jory looking this way and that. The she grabbed the tall man's wrist and tugged him behind a wide, marble pillar. 

Grey pressed her back against it, a breathless laugh escaping her. She looked up at the man, smile full of mischief and excitement. 

"Could you tell me when he leaves?" she murmured conspiratorially. 

"Why am i here?" Emerin thought to himself drinking some Ale, it was nice but nothing like they had at Hyland's Keep, too fruity. He spent an hour talking to bumbling fools seeking his approval, since his Brother was sick he was forced to attend the Princess' nameday, hopefully his Nephews were here for the tournament later so he could talk to somebody not wanting to kiss his boots.

Suddenly he felt an bump and looked down to see a woman lying on the floor, before words were exchanged she got up and dragged Emerin behind a white pillar, she looked at him and smiled with mischief in her dazzling eyes, "could you tell me when he leaves?" .

Emerin wondered who she was talking about and if in fact she wasn't deluded, but he looked round to see an old Knight looking distressed as if searching for something that was lost. He ran into the crowd with an expression of fear in his eyes and face.

Emerin looked at the mysterious woman in her beautiful dress and elegant braids and raised his eyebrows. "Ok He's gone m'lady, now why were you trying to escape from him my dear and don't spare me any details or i shall call the old sod back." Emerin looked at the woman with both intrigue and excitement, it looks like he is going to have fun.

---

Tiras made his joinery on the back of his grey dapple destrier. He found no need for a saddle, rather he had a blanket there. The other oddity was the leather halter that seemed to be lacking a bit. The horse itself was large with a mean look that seemed to date a hand to get to close to its mouth. Yet, with Tiras the horse seemed subdued. Even with the fox known as kit occasionally weaving between the four legs of the massive beast, it did not react in a bad manner.

Tiras himself was clad in all black with the most color coming from the ring with two of the house symbol holding a yellow stone to signify his family. on his hips were two finely crafted swords with black leather hilts and on his shoulder sat his falcon. A black and white bird whom was known to be excellent at hunting. When he reached his destination, the falcon took to the skies headed to the roost while he dismounted. A servant came to take his horse, but after he was almost kicked and bite let Tiras take the horse to the stables.

He walked to the collective masses with Kit beside him...a collar with embroidered Falcons on it to show whom he belongs to. As the mass got larger, it was clear people sensed something was not quite right with him and he found himself being given plenty of space. In his hand was a cloth bag with the gift for the princess he made. He felt it would be good to show his craft and present something for the lady.

After the mass made its way inside, he too followed making his way to where he was to be with the red fox trotting beside him like a shadow.

Ithobal woke up to the gentle waves rocking Leviathan. He had grown accustomed to falling asleep to the gentle waves of the ship, so he had no desire to sleep on shore if it could be avoided. The ship had been a gift from his father, Arthur Gully. It was no doubt an attempt to buy the affection of Ithobal and it was the finest ship he had ever seen. Yet, Ithobal felt this was another expectation placed upon his shoulders by his war hero of a father.

That pressure had been increasing ever since Ithobal learned that his brother became part of the King's Guard and left Ithobal heir to Serpent's Roost and the Quell Sea. He had never wanted this life or expectations placed upon him, and this caused the number of scars on his arms to increase. There were many in his family who felt that Ithobal abandoned his duties to go off to sea, but he just needed to get away from his life if only for a moment. He could not escape the responsibilities, and they dragged him back home. He arrived at Serpent's Roost and found that his family had already left. No doubt that would be another disappointment to Ithobal's father. Just another notch into the belt is the way Ithobal saw it.

Ithobal arrived at the port closest to Corevial Castle a fortnight before the announcement of the king and he needed to make sure that he was actually going to be at the announcement. That is why he was grateful that the sea woke him up early in the morning. He walked up onto the deck of the ship and admired his ship. The ports of the Corevial were starting to awaken and Ithobal could feel that he would be able to make some good money today. He looked around the deck and saw his first mate, Nestor. He was always a close friend and advisor to Ithobal, and he even taught him how to properly sail and handle a trident. The old man was smoking while staring at the ships leaving to go fishing.

"Make sure to get good prices for the wines we have in the cellar, with the celebrations I'm sure we will make a pretty penny," Ithobal told the old man.

"Be careful out there, captain. The people in that city are only after power, and they are willing to kill for it. Remember that the sea is always your friend," the first mate told Ithobal. With that Nestor called for a dingy to bring Ithobal and the goods to be brought to the port. They had to land in the Vaernin Forest before they even had a chance to get close to Corevial. The caravan would have to be well guarded to ensure no trouble, so he hired a small band of mercenaries to ensure the safety of his product. The trip with to the capital was rather uneventful, save for the broken wheel or two.

The castle was truly a magnificent sight to be seen. Ithobal had been here a few times, and every time he was always struck in awe of the beauty of the castle. He was able to rent a small storefront with an a few apartments to attached in order to sell his wares over the days of the celebrations. The beds were much nicer than the one on his ship, but he missed the waves of the sea. This is the life he would have to look forward to and it was probably for best if he became use to living in a castle.

His morning was filled with getting his newly Mount Promonon crafted armor. It was light armor, so he could move quickly with his trident. It would be enough to help him in small skirmishes, while also making sure he would not die from direct attacks. The Hyland's truly had the best in the country, but his trident could only be made by the hands of true seaman of the Quell Sea. The head was crafted from a glimmering steal that was tempered to shine with a hint of blue. The shaft was made from hardened sea stone. As tough as iron, but with a better gripe. It was found only in the Quell Sea and it helped Ithobal remember where his duties now were.

He left to the head to the announcement with a group of four of his best fighters, also in new armor. He wouldn't want to disappoint his father by bringing men that looked like pirates. They could not make it far into the crowd before they could move no farther, and they could barely make out what the King was saying. It was not like he needed to know though; he knew why he was there and the announcement was a little more than a formality.

With the rings of the bells, the crowd started to move and with it Ithobal and his men. Before long he was able to spot his father, his cousin, Tybalt, and at least two of his sisters, Catarina and Myriam. He approached with his men hoping to at least try and make a good first impression on his father. It had been so long since he had seen any of them. He had missed his sisters, and it seemed like Tybalt has moved up in the world.

"Father, it is good to see you again. You look well and I am sure the trip from Serpent's Roost to here was smooth," Ithobal said trying to sound confident. "Tybalt, you look as strong as ever and I have heard you have only become stronger in combat since I have left. Myriam, you look as beautiful as ever, and who is this lady before me? It couldn't be my sister, Catarina, she was just a child when I left. It is good to see all of you, and I have gifts from around the Kingdom for everyone. Are we waiting for Mother and Amelia or should we head in?"

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I am a Hyland. I am a people of the mountains, a people of strength. I love my family. All in Good Time; I am a Hyland.

Juliana had repeated the words as she had left the safety of Mount Promonon for the first time, repeating them still in her head like a prayer to the gods as she rode with their party. She had never had a reason to leave their lands, to seek adventure in the great lands of the Kingdom. Or so her mother and nurses had pointed out to her at a young age; pointed out to her as they corrected her needlework and clicked their tongues at her questions and natural tendencies towards mayhem. A trueborn lady does not need to leave her home until her marriage, Juliana. A Lady does as she is told; she is quiet and meek and supports the adventures of the Lords of the land. The nurse, an older woman of her mother’s religion that helped the Lady of Mount Promonon with her children, was a hateful woman. Or at least to Juliana. Saying goodbye to her to attend the tournament had made a wicked smile touch her lips that only a stern look from her mother was able to distinguish.

I am a Hyland.

The words range true and instilled her with a sense of purpose and pride. The woman would still be back at their Keep, but in truth the years had worn her down and Juliana was well past the age she could fend for herself. Her parents preferred she stayed carefully watched, but with four siblings and a large castle to explore, Juliana was able to slip from sight with the ease of a shadow, hardly missed. It was both a curse and a gift being the youngest child of five; no one worried or looked for you unless you were missing for more than two meals. One if with your Lord and Lady.

The trip had been uneventful, and Juliana had found the steady pace of the horses and company of her brothers and sister enjoyable. The long seasons and isolation at Mount Promonon often left much to be desired for company, and she knew too well that she had been blessed with a family that was able to tolerate one another even when bickering amongst themselves. Juliana loved them all, none more than her older sister, Emmaline. But their unity only lasted until they reached the city, where they all became consumed by the majestically decorated castle and hive of excitement. Corevial Castle sat glistening like a jewel, ready to host the largest tournament many had seen in half a century for the honor to marry the princess.

Juliana snorted to herself as she made her way on foot through the crowd. The princess was only a child, the sole heir to the crown and giant thrown that dominated the rest of the territories of Lhivoria. A girl heir, whose husband was to be chosen by a tournament of brute strength. A pity for the poor princess; a pity for Juliana would be forced to sit and smile during the tortures of court and bloodshed. Despite her contempt for the whole event, she would force a smile and pray for the safety of her brothers, a deep seeded fear of their passing causing her a pang in her chest.

She had dismounted what seemed like only moments before, but in reality may have easily been an hour since their arrival outside the castle gates. Juliana was now thoroughly lost and from her position on the ground had difficult spotting the small party of her family. She had jumped from her horse so quickly she had startled those around her, and had heard her name called as she blended with the crowd. Her eyes had spotted two boys chasing a cat through the street, and without thinking she had sprung after them. The cat was a beautiful animal, black as night and yowling as they cornered it. Juliana had ushered them away, she assumed looking quite deranged in her fine red silk dress as she scolded the boys and scooped up the cat from their powerful blows.

The kitten was now nested against her, purring as she cooed to the creature while walking with the crowd towards the gate, keeping a sharp eye for her family, and hoping against hope they had not somehow entered the castle gates without her. Her green eyes spotted a familiar figure on a horse, and her nose twitched as she recognized her bastard half brother. He was scarcely older that she was, and yet he rode like a man twice his age, his face grave. Juliana stayed out of his sight, but followed at a steady pace, knowing he would lead her in the direction she desired. Although Gods save her, she would need to time it so to avoid the tongue lashing from those who had noticed her missing. If they noticed. She mused to herself with some hope.

She lost track of time moving through the crowd, her eyes always watching until she finally spotted a group of black haired, richly dressed nobles, surrounded by men wearing the crest of her family. Juliana tucked the kitten in the nook of her arm, protecting the black cat from the eyes of strangers as she spotted her sister, a feeling of relief washing over her. She made her way quietly towards her, attempting to avoid the watchful eyes of the guards and get her sisters attention. “Emmaline.” She spoke up, “Emma! Emma, I’m relieved you are still outside the gate.” She had the decency to look slightly apologetic to her sister, the smile holding humor she could not hide.

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Trystan mounted his courser in the courtyard of Hyland's Keep, their color flying high. "All in good time" he mumbled to himself. He was getting to leave Mount Promonon for the first time. He has read stories about the kingdom, all of its wonders and sights. Sure, he has gone hunting with his father and brothers, but nothing ever as far as leaving the mountain ranges. As he sat atop his horse, he adjusted his pristine armor, decorated in his family's colors and crest, making sure he looked every part the prince he is supposed to be. At his left him, one can see the hilt of a sword, definitely castle-made, judging by its craftsmanship. As his oldest brother began to move, he tapped the sides of his horse to get it into motion and followed the rest of the group as they made their way to Corevial castle.

Along the way, he heard whispers of a tournament in the princess's honor. The winner was to be chosen as the princess's lawfully wedded. Sounded interesting to him. But, with his older brother attending the event as well, he doubts he will get a chance to even enter the tournament, much less win it....

As he arrived at the castle, he approached the gate as all the dignitaries were ushered in. He left his horse for a stableboy to look after and marched in with the rest of his family, adjusting his clothing and sword whenever he felt as if they had shifted out of place. As he took a seat at the table prepared for his family, he greeted each one of his family members as he saw them, including his bastard half-brother Tiras. He looked upon the gathering, ale in hand, and listened as the King spoke to the rest of the people. So, the princess is thirteen. It sounds like she would be wed to a much older man, and Trystan wonders if that is such a good idea at all. However, he knew better than to let these thoughts slip from mouth.

The ale was much sweeter than he was used to back home, the food was...different...and Trystan has had enough of the courtly gatherings. He wanted the tournament to begin. He wanted to take part in it. He wanted to spear someone off their horse...

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Lucan had grown used to life in the capital, and more or less to the company of the Ainsworth family. He spent so much time among them that it would have been impossible for him not to. Fitted into his armour properly, he took a moment to look over it. For the most part it was as traditional as any other member of the kingsguard's, golden plate with scale mail, the royal crest on the pauldrons and a golden cloak over the back. The only particular difference was the crown engraved into Lucan's chestplate, the only mark identifying him as the lord-commander. Stepping toward the desk in his room, he picked up the small shark pin, the sigil of the Gully family.

He did not often demonstrate his allegiance to his house, kingsguard were not supposed to. Though he still believed himself as much a member of the family as any of his siblings, he was in the kingsguard to represent them, and partly to avoid a few of his more regal responsibilities. Reaching up to his neck, he carefully pinned the sigil on his red collar, the golden sigil had been a gift from his father, a parting one when Lucan first left for the kingsguard. It had been supposed to remind him who he was, so that he would never forget his true family. With his father, he figured that'd never be possible.

Ensuring the sigil sat neatly on his collar, he reached down again to pick up his sword. Carefully ensuring the sheathe was harnessed to his belt, he look over his sword briefly. It was clean as it'd ever been, sharp as well. The blade itself had been another gift, from the Ainsworth's themselves when he had been appointed as lord-commander. He cherished the blade, although he'd yet to give it a name. Sighing, he slid the blade into his sheathe, moving to the door and heading out. He'd been appointed to serve as the Princess' guard that day, it wasn't uncommon, King Samson liked to ensure that his daughter had the best protection available, and on this day, protection was paramount.

Lucan had grown to have a love-hate relationship with days like this. On one hand, they were dangerous. Feasts required a great deal of security, and the fact that so many people were allowed into the castle so casually meant it was easy for an assassin to slip in unnoticed, all it took was a drop of poison or a quick blade, and that was the end of the royals. On the other hand, he loved the feasts themselves, the feel of the festivities, and particularly the tournament. It disappointed Lucan somewhat that he could not partake, under different circumstances he may have, but this was a special tournament, and the winner would be chosen as the princess' intended. Lucan had forfeited his titles, and his inheritance, he could not represent the house Gully even if he desired to. It was a shame, but Lucan understood his duty.

It was a brief walk through the castle to the Princess' room. He moved to knock, but paused as he heard the handmaiden's speaking on the other side of the door. Lips spreading into an amused smirk as he heard the princess' response, he took a step back from the door and rested his hand idly on the pommel of his blade. He knew better than to interrupt the handmaidens while they dressed the princess, he'd wait patiently until they were done and she was ready to go.

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Arthur loathed events such as this. So many took these events as an opportunity to grovel, to suck up to the high-born and the royals in an attempt to get into their good graces. Not Arthur, Arthur was a Gully, no, he was the Lord Gully. His displeasure was evident on his face as it usually was. If one were to ask anyone at court what Arthur Gully was like, they'd probably answer with many words starting with "f" - formidable, forbidding, fearsome, and most importantly - frowning. There were few events that could ever bring a smile to Arthur's face, not his children, not his capture of Serpent's Roost so many years ago, and certainly not the princess' birthday.

Arthur was only there for the purpose of the tournament. he didn't care for the other nobles, hardly even for the Ainsworth's. While many of the other houses conversed with each other as they waited, Arthur did no such thing. He stood, a few paces away from any of his guards as they stood around him, cleared space between himself and them as he kept his hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed in a fine crimson tunic, his golden shark sigil pinned over his heart as he kept his head turned upward, glancing over the other nobility as his children conversed.

He was looking for his son, Ithobal. Arthur had only been graced with two sons. Well, only two he held any remote care for, unfortunately in Arthur's eyes, neither son held anywhere near the amount of care for their family that he himself had. His eldest, Lucan, whom he figured was best fit for the tournament, could not compete due to the fact he'd renounced his claim as heir, and joined the kingsguard. And so, Arthur had to rely on his second son Ithobal, who seemed in Arthur's mind to have far greater an interest in sailing and peddling wares like a common merchant, rather than being the lord he should have been.

He could not see Ithobal, no doubt the boy was late, but he did see Tybalt, his nephew. Out of all the men in his family, Tybalt held perhaps the least contempt from Arthur, if either of his own sons had half the sense of duty that Tybalt did, he'd have secured a thousand-year dynasty by now. "Tybalt." Arthur greeted his nephew plainly as he approached and began to speak. He shook his head to the man's query. "Unfortunately, I am aware that he is my heir, and no, I have not seen him." He shifted his gaze past Tybalt again, drifting his gaze back to the crowd in the vain hope that he would see his boy come up the path.

Nodding his head to Tybalt, he cleared his throat. If worse came to worst, he'd have Tybalt fight, he might not have been his son but he was a Gully, and the name Gully was all that mattered. Arthur turned, and began to move toward the entrance of the castle, that was until he heard the voice of his son behind him. Stopping where he was, he turned to Ithobal, what had been an average frown on his face before had shifted, far more critical and loathsome now. "Ithobal, so good of you to make it." While the words were kind, the tone carried a great deal of weight, and his meaning was clear - you're late.

Shifting his gaze to the other men Ithobal was with, he sized them up. He figured they were members of Ithobal's crew, and he at least appreciated that the boy had not shown up with men looking like cheap sellswords, or worse, pirates. "Your mother and sister were speaking with some of the Moors, last I saw, they will meet us inside." He spoke plainly, turning about once more and moving in through the gate properly, he hoped at the very least that things would go smoothly, and that there would be no more disappointments in the day.

The trip from Mount Promonon to Corevial Castle was always boring because nothing ever happened on the main road. Through most of the trip Balian day dreamed till the arrived. "Ah the capital still nasty as ever." He mumbled to himself. Sure it looked like a beautiful place to live but with so many people and how indifferent they were to one another the crime rate was sure to be high and people tended to turn a blind eye to things.

Once they arrived at the castle Balian dismounted his horse and gave it to one of the stable boy. "These horses belong to House Hyland, place them in the designated stable. "Yes M'Lord" the boy said. Balian waited for his family to gather and go into the castle after the king's speech. As the family made their way into the castle toward their designated area Balian noticed that his youngest brother Trystan was dressed in ceremonial armor. Balian figured he should be the one to tell him next time not to wear armor. It was his duty being the second eldest son in the family.

"Little brother" Balian said sitting next to him. "Next time you plan on wearing armor to the capital make sure it isn't brand new. Makes people think you're just showing off." Balian teased his little brother. "So will you try your hand at this tournament? I thought about trying out but I gotta lead the Mountain Walkers, so sadly Im unable to. Plus between me and you who wants to be king. Sure you're king but imagine how stressful it would be. No thanks." Balian said heartily.

Despite her best efforts, it was never easy for Myriam to hide her nervousness. No matter how high she held her head or how straight she kept her posture, one of her ticks would always give her away. So there she stood, dressed in her flowing, royal blue gown, practically frozen amongst the bustling and chattery courtyard. Her hands were tightly clasped together below her chest, expression as stoic as she could keep it. Not too far off stood her father, Arthur, wearing his usual frown, as she'd expected.

"Myriam."

As Myriam steadily scanned the courtyard, a voice, followed by a gentle tug at her sleeve, interrupted her watch. Just as soon as she'd tensed up from the voice, her expression softened, giving a relieved smile to the dark haired girl before her.

"Catarina?" Myriam spoke. Her voice was low, almost in a whisper and practically drowned out by the noise surrounding them.

“Do you think we'll get to see the Princess soon?"

"Oh, of course-"

"Have you ever seen her?"

"Well-"

"Will the feast last long? I do hope so. Have you ever been before?"

"Ca-"

"We should just stick with father, right? He knows what's best. Hm, yes, I am sure he does know. He's father after all, don't you agree?”

"Catarina, please, you're making my head spin," Myriam chuckled. She took a moment to peer off to the side, towards her father. Her cousin Tybalt seemed to be keeping him busy, for the moment. Her smile only briefly faded, before turning back to Catarina.

"I've been to the Castle, when I was much younger... but I've never seen the Princess before. Most haven't. Though I've been told she's very pretty."

Myriam paused, quickly turning her head from side to side, before bending her knees, her voice hushed. "Almost as pretty as the youngest Gully daughter, I've heard," she murmured with a grin, regaining her straightened posture. With the ringing of the bells sounding from the castle, she gently nudged her sister in the direction of her father and cousin, gesturing for the two women to follow behind. Until she was once again stopped by the sound of another familiar voice.

"Father, it is good to see you again," Ithobal spoke from behind them. In her surprise, Myriam placed a hand over her lips at the sight of her brother, leading a band of well armored men - what she assumed to be his crew. "Ithobal I- my word, it's been too long. It's so good to see you again," She spoke, folding her hands back under her chest.

Grey was in the process of peering around the pillar when the stranger threatened to call Sir Jory back, his voice teasing. She gasped and snapped back to attention, looking up at him.

"You wouldn't dare," she said, scandalized. But Grey knew the spark in his eyes as he looked her up and down, knew the lilt in his voice, the thrill of excitement that rang through her at catching his attention (whether or not she'd managed it be bodily colliding with him and falling on her rear). She knew this game. And oh, how she loved to play along. He was older than her, clearly. Young enough to be cocky, but mature enough to know what he wanted – and handsome as the devil, to top it all off. He was just the sort of distraction she needed.

Drawing herself to her full (very unimpressive) height, she raised her chin and gave an imperious sniff.

"Well, if you must know," she said, "he's been hunting me down all day. He's confused, I think. He keeps calling me Red Gertrude and insisting I evaluate his collection of foreign toads." Grey looked over her shoulder to where she saw Sir Jory's retreating back, tall and shining in his armor. Her mouth twitched up into a lopsided grin as she pictured the poor knight's expression should he ever learn of her story. "He's harmless I'm sure," she said, turning back to gaze up at the stranger. Her smile was still on her face. "But you understand, if he shows me one more toad, I will shove it down his armor." She raised an eyebrow, her smile growing cheeky. "Stay with me? In case he finds me again?"

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Emerin laughed at her tale, clearly a lie from her joking expression it was obvious but he decided to play along especially for such a beautiful woman perhaps a little too young but she was beautiful none the less "Well then m'lady perhaps we should take a walk maybe meet the King and Queen while we're at it?" He offered his army for the woman and they began to walk past the crowds, chatting about trivial things.

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Along the way they were met with a great many minor nobles all searching for his favour, he wafted them away, he had just thought of a great idea concerning his bastard nephew. It had just occured to him that he still didn't know the young woman's name. before he had time to ask her he notice a young man clad all in black it wasn't until he saw Kit that he recognised the boy.

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" I have someone i think you might like to meet my dear" Emerin whispered to the woman whom he simply knew as Red Gertrude.
"Tiras my boy, you could have told me you were here!" Emerin shouted embracing the boy, "M'lady this is my nephew Tiras Sky, best blacksmith in all of Mount Promonon

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Juliana’s face darkened for a moment as her mind returned to the cat’s rescue, but softened as Emmaline stroked the cat, the kitten giving a soft purr of approval at the attention. The hum and warmth of the animal only justifying her actions. “I noticed her as we were coming to the castle. Two boys with wooden swords were chasing the poor thing; if I’m not mistaken they meant to kill it.” She fondled one of the cat’s soft ears between her fingers, the superstition of the realm had always been apparent, but she had never suspected a poor black cat would meet a lethal fate; even a reminder of a witch was enough to set people on edge. "Isn’t she lovely? We can name her during the tournament.” She grinned, pleased to have found some source of entertainment other than the clang of metal and wood of the jousting.

“Mother? I assumed she was with Edwin.” Her response of course was of no help, as she had no idea where her oldest brother was at the moment either; most likely filling in as the gallant leader and dutiful heir of the family with their father back at Mount Promonon in his sick bed. Juliana allowed Emmaline to guide her through the crowd, noting the ease and grace her sister possessed even when walking into unknown territory. Juliana’s eyes roamed the crowd and spotted her brothers as her sister greeted them.

A mischievous smile spread across her face as she spotted her youngest brother, Trystan, in his gleaming new armor and she exchanged a smirk with Balian. She knew her brother well enough that he had mentioned the outfit to Trystan , while Emmaline offered a teasing comment as well. Juliana raised an eyebrow as though in mock surprise, “Why dear sister, we must be later than we even imagined! I think we missed the tournament all together, and our sweet brother won the hand of the princess! He is merely so dressed to celebrate his victory.” She gave a small curtsy to Trystan, the teasing in her voice softened by a tenderness she reserved for her family,"Your Majesty! When do you meet your child bride?”

Tybalt had prepared to enter the giant hall where the feast would be held, but was stopped, or rather, forced to turn back to stay with his uncle, whom was interrupted by something or someone. As Tybalt turned around, thus, he found himself looking at a familiar face. A changed face, a face he had not seen for quite some time, but still a familiar face that he recognized easily. “Ithobal,” he replied. His face did not change expression - Tybalt did not experience any sense of nostalgia, friendship or likelihood for the man, but similarly did not feel angry or saddened at his return. If anything, Tybalt realized that Ithobal would leave soon enough. He was a temporary presence. That angered him slightly. An heir was supposed to be present, not traveling. Tybalt wondered how much Ithobal knew. About the struggles they'd had while he was away, doing his own thing, making his sisters suffer for a lack of a real male leading figure.

Not to speak ill of his uncle, of course. Lord Arthur was what was expected of a lord. Stern, brave, a man of his word. But he was not a good father figure for the young Gully ladies, and Tybalt expected Arthur knew that too. They needed a brother that would teach them not only of the sternness required of a man, but also of the softer side of a man. A side that was more often than not lacking entirely in lord Arthur.

Thinking of this, Tybalt shifted his gaze to his uncle momentarily, looking at the mans face. It was precisely that expression that lord Arthur held as he looked upon Ithobal that proved that Tybalt was right. A complete lack of emotion. A good lord has no emotion, Tybalt knew. But a good father had emotion. He shook his head. No, he must not question. Lord Arthur was the greatest man within the Gully family, it was for that reason Tybalt's father adored Arthur so.

“It is good to see you too, Ithobal. I had just asked your father if you'd be joining us. I assume you will be partaking in the tournament. I was going to accompany your father inside, as is my duty as knight of the Quell Sea, but I assume you will be doing that now. I will go speak to some of the other families, see what they can tell me of the tournament and their candidates.”

His voice was heavy, heavier than most men, possibly because, as Tybalt had noticed, he was older than most men at the feast. Understandably so. Tybalt's presence was not as an heir, or an important prince, one of the many young men to be put on display here for prestige and to show off. Rather, he was just there.. a side-figure at best. It was a blessing at times, to be able to fit in with the guards so well, but right now, it felt like Tybalt stuck out like a sore thumb. With the arrival of Ithobal, the family had their heir. That was what mattered in the end, and Tybalt would just have to set aside his personal feelings on the matter.

As he left, he bowed lightly for his uncle, bowing his head in the process. “Uncle, Ithobal,” he said, before he stepped back and stood up straight again. Ithobal would not notice - the man had not known Tybalt long enough to know how Tybalt usually acted, but Arthur would likely see the small frown upon Tybalt's face, unsatisfied with the way things were going.

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Tybalt bobbed and weaved between the many people that were now inside of the hall, conversing about the latest fashion trends, or diplomatic faux passes that women or men had made during a visit to any random court. The people that were present were more often than not minor nobles - men that were unimportant, women that despite their beauty were equally unimportant. It was a boost to Tybalt's ego, because even if he was side-figure, he was still a part of the Gully family and by extent that put him higher in the chain of hierarchy than they were.

As he walked past the many faces that he did or did not recognize, he came upon some of the other important family members. Most notably, he recognized the faces of the two ladies, of whom he had heard tales of their beauty. Of course, Tybalt realized he was much too old for them and above all, tales from travelers were more often than not filled with exaggerations. But the deciding factor that made Tybalt see that these were indeed the children of the Hyland lord, were the colors on the armor of one of the children.

How pompous, Tybalt thought to himself. A man in such an armor.. surely knows how to fight. Surely. He could not suppress the grin of seeing a young boy in such an armor. It was like watching a young pup try to bark at much older animals. Amusing, but ultimately useless. Before he approached them, he calmed himself. It would be rude to walk in with a mocking grin on his face. As soon as he had wiped the grin off his face, he looked down and straightened his clothes, though they were rugged and did not remind anyone of a nobleman. He also straightened his belt, having it hang loosely on his hip, hanging slightly skewed. Tybalt was not a fashionable man, nor did he care much for impressions, so when he was satisfied, he approached the Hyland children.

“Excuse me,” he said, looking first at Juliana, then Trystan and Balian, and then finally shifting his gaze to Emmaline. He did not know their names, but that would make a fine talking point, would it not. “I do not wish to intrude on your conversation, but you are the children of lord Hyland, are you not?” He shifted his eyes again, now looking at Trystan, whom was obviously betraying their allegiance to the Hyland family with his armor. “I have not seen your father, and I was sure my uncle would like to speak to him. Ah, but..”

Rather than try to be courteous, Tybalt remained himself, and so his voice boomed with male virility and strength. A trait, Tybalt had found, was often forgotten in men of noble birth. Men like the two before him. Never the less, they were of noble birth, and so he showed them proper respect. While he would introduce himself, he did a short bow, bowing his head deeper for the women than for the men. “I should introduce myself. I am Tybalt of the Quell Sea, I am.. merely a nephew of the good lord Gully. I would not expect any of you to know me.” Well, this was not a lie. He was merely a nephew and many people did not know him. He was not important, nor was he famous. It was a stark contrast to the four children before him.

“I had wondered whom of you would be entering in the tournament? I had tried of testing my mettle against some of the younger knights, but unfortunately for me, Ithobal had arrived at long last.”

It had been clear that Tybalt harbored some ill-will towards the younger generation in general, but that much would not shine through in his words.

@MrMonsoon@c3p-0h

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Tiras had been distracted, his mind elsewhere when he heard a familiar voice. He turned and smiled as he embraced his uncle. He had grown considerably...at 6 feet he was already quite tall. "Uncle. Apologies, i had forgotten" he looked over at the woman whom he was being introduced to and lightly kissed her hand. "A pleasure to meet you M'lady" He focused back on his uncle and smiled again. "It is good to see you uncle. I would have found you sooner, but I was distracted. I have a gift for the princess, but I am unsure of how to present it." his uncle was one of the few that got to see him smile and actually be friendly toward anyone. Other then his twin, his smile was hardly seen by the family.

As Tiras was talking, Kit looked over at the lady and tilted his head. He trotted over and sniffed at her before sitting in front of her. His bushy tail waved back and forth as the fox studied the woman more.

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Maria stood with the rest of the people waiting patiently to enter the castle like everyone else, she had spent her time traveling with her family, then they were finally let inside as Maria stood there looking around seeing the various Lords and Ladies from all around. She had gotten separated from everyone else. Maria walked around until she saw her brother Tiras from behind and smirked playfully as she quietly started to sneak up behind her brother and then gave him a big bear hug from behind and then let him go. She then saw her Emerin and quickly bowed her head towards him and smiled. "How are you?" Maria asked as she went over and gave him a loving hug and smiled. Maria turned her attention towards Kit and reached out to gently pet the little fox she had grown attached to like her brother had before.

And then turned her attention towards Grey who she hadn't met before Maria eyed the woman up and down for a moment and smiled softly she was very attractive but remained relaxed. "I'm Maria Sky it's nice to meet you, I guess you have met my twin Tiras already."

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The air in the Black Knight Tavern reeked of ale and piss. The people in attendance were mainly peasants, not interested in attending the festivities of the day, or they were whores, looking for someone to sell their services too. More than one came to Edwin, and more than one was turned away. He wasn't here to sully his family's name. Just as he was beginning to grow impatient, the man he'd been waiting for walked up and took a seat, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on the table, like he owned the place. Which he did.

Edwin smiled, a insincere smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Lord Dunkirk. How nice of you to make our meeting. A meeting, I might add, that you wanted to have," he said, the venom in his voice all too apparent. Edwin Hyland was the heir to Mount Promonon, Prince of the Mountain, and an altogether much more important person than William Dunkirk. "Someone is rather testy today," the noble said, his smirk reminding Edwin of a snake. Edwin reclined in his chair, an effort to show off his confidence. "Lord Dunkirk, I did not come here to play your games. I came to speak about whatever it is you could want from me." Lord Dunkirk let his hands fall, and raised his eyebrows. Here it came.

"Seeing as you're so impatient, I'll get to the point. You're here representing your family, along with your mother, seeing as your father is so tragically ill. Now, seeing as how you'll be inheriting the seat of your house, I decided it most prudent to speak with you," the weasel of a lord said, his fingers drumming a tune on the coarse wooden table. "The point," Edwin hissed, prompting Lord Dunkirk to continue. "I'd like to offer you a deal. You're family's ambition is no secret, as much as you may think it is. What if I could offer your family a direct route to the throne," Lord Dunkirk said, his smirk still staunchly in place on his face. Edwin's looked around the tavern. "What you're discussing sounds an awful lot like treason, Lord Dunkirk. And I'd hate to see you hauled off to the gaol," Edwin said. Despite his musings, he couldn't hide the gleam in his eye. Lord Dunkirk had struck something in him.

"Nonsense my boy. I'm only suggesting that, a few of the competitors in today's tournament have an accident. Increase one of your brothers' chances of winning. Or even yours if you so desire. Not all of the competition, obviously. The lesser houses mainly," Lord Dunkirk said, going for the kill. Edwin stood up, his face stern. "My father isn't dead yet, and as such, this isn't my decision to make, at least not alone. I'll need to speak to my mother," he said, turning to go. Lord Dunkirk nodded. "I didn't know you still ran to your mother's teat when-" Lord Dunkirk was cut off by a glare from the young Lord, who saw himself out of the tavern without another word.

He found his family inside the castle, where the feast had already begun. They were speaking to a man, who's face was not familiar to him in the slightest. He walked up and took his place beside his mother, smiling at the group. "Brothers and sisters, I apologize that I'd left you all to your own devices. It seems you've taken to hounding this poor man," he said to his siblings, before leaning in to whisper in his mother's ear, just loud enough so that the rest of his family wouldn't hear. "We must speak in private later," he said before turning to the unfamiliar man. "My apologies ser! I am Edwin Hyland, pleased to meet you. I hope my family here hasn't frightened you too much," he said with a bow, never one to forget his manners.

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To say that the last of the Moors were a boring bunch would be inaccurate. In fact, they were incredibly, impossibly, mundane. The last few Moors who'd survived the execution of their relatives were distant cousins, barely even worthy of holding her mother's maiden name, but they held it all the same. Amelia had abandoned her mother to her family long ago, and was currently walking through the castle garden, admiring the beauty of it all. And why, she wondered as she plucked a flower with petals soft as silk, should it belong to the Ainsworths? Why should they hold the kingdom in their palms, and not the Gullys?

Amelia resigned to save that question for another day, as she reached the end of the garden, which looked out over the port of Coreival Castle. As she gazed out at all the ships, she spied one that she'd know anywhere. The Leviathan. Which could only mean one thing. Ithobal was here. She couldn't hide her excitement as she ran from the gardens, holding the excess material that made up her dress in her hands, as she went to see her family.

She hadn't seen Ithobal in quite some time. He'd been out traveling the world, hiding from the responsibilities of being a Gully, or at least that's what she thought. But no matter how weak she perceived him as for running away, he was still her brother, and the closest one to her in age. She did love him, very much, and she'd missed him.

She spotted her family just inside the castle, and she had to take a moment to compose herself. She couldn't just run up and pounce on her brother, no matter how much she'd missed him. Instead she moved gracefully across the stone until she had joined up with her elder brother and sister, her father, and her younger sister. "Ithobal, it's...it's wonderful to see you again," she said with a genuine smile, a rare thing for her. "I apologize for being late father, I was seeing the gardens. Now Ithobal, I suppose you'll be competing in this tournament?"

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Everything about this day should have been splendid. Her family was here, her dress was magnificent, and an air of delight permeated the city, making everything seem just a bit brighter. But for Amara Gully, the day was drab and lifeless. She could not be bothered to even fake a smile for the event. Today was the first day she'd been back to Coreival Castle in decades. Today was the first day she had revisited the scene of her family's murder.

She stood there now, on the steps of the palace, where they had knelt. Her father, Walder, and her two older brother, Alexander and Arric. Even her younger brother, a boy no older than sixteen. This was where they'd all lost their heads. Tears flowed from her eyes as she looked down upon the steps, so pristine and white, as if her family hadn't been slain right there, while she watched in anguish. The king had thought her continued life to be a show of mercy, but to her it was nothing more than a punishment, one last act of vengeance against her family.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffed, and regained her composure. People were staring now, and she shot each of them a glare that forced them to turn their heads. So what if they mocked her? Called her mad, or insane? Maybe she was. They wouldn't call her insane after she brought the Ainsworth's to their knees, and watched them beg as her brother's had begged, watched them weep as they heard their death sentence echo out across the streets. Then she'd have her revenge, when her family, the family she'd built, took the Ainsworth's power. And on Samson's way out she'd look into his eyes, the same ones that had haunted her for years and she'd tell him that he should have killed her. So what if she was insane? Revenge always called for a healthy dose of insanity.