Village of Ravenne of Lycia, close to the Etrurian border
In the year of 1366 AS (After the Scouring) and year of 367 AZ (After Zephiel)



The sounds of children's laughter echoed through the central park of the village of Ravenne. The streets were bustling with life, carts carrying merchandice travelling up and down while the merchants' loud voices attempted to catch the attention of any a traveler. A delicate scent of freshly cooked pork, freshly baked pastry and day-old fish left their shops and blended into a inviting and delighting aroma surrounding the food corners of the town forum. And all of this was blessed with a wonderful, cloud-free sky that covered the hamlet with light and gentle Autumn heat.

The town counsel however was hard at work with discussions, completely ignoring the Autumn equinox celebrations. The room with the long, oval table was filled with tension and a foul scent of unwashed bodies, and the heavy atmosphere was so thick one could touch it. One of the counselmen even seemed to be strangled by the tension, his eyes red and bloodspilled as if grasping for air while hanging from a thick rope.

"Sir Courten, focus! We've not come to a conclusion yet! Acting on this is all too great a risk, I feel! But.. I will abide by the democratic choice nonetheless." The counselman at the edge of the table groaned out while reading through the piece of parchment in front of him for the 150th time atleast. And then he looked onto the others again, nodding to a raised arm, "Yes, Williams?"

"While I agree it is far too great a risk, I still.. I still feel we should accept. True, we are far away, and true, going through with it would leave us surrounded and strangled for options. I fear that as much as the next man. But... It seems like a serene request.." counselman Williams spoke, his eyes sullenly and shyly going to the floor afterwards. The young man did however note the mumbling around the table with some satisfaction, the feeling of acceptance to his final request seemed a positive one.

And then the head counselman nodded again before slamming his knotted fist to the table with great power, "Then we vote!"


GROAN! Ellynorah's displeasure at her task was truly visible at her gentle features, and her sounds as well, yet she could not escape them. That would upset her mother greatly, and she was not in mood to do that. If only she didn't have to bring that big, dumb nobleman with her. Her eyes moved to peer onto the retainer by her side, her gaze petrifying like Medusa's or venomous like the Venom Drakes of legend. Her expression held more malice than the legendary Zephiel held for humankin, more madness than that of the rumoured Nergal. Yet he seemed unphased aside from an uncomfortable smile. GROAN!

"Pray tell, why does a Princess like myself have to suffer through your boring, uninteresting and annoying presence? Answer this instant, knave! She'd stopped her walk in this God forsaken Lycian village, and instead turned about to peer onto him, her torso beckoned slightly forward with an arm pointing at him. Yet the retainer could only rub his chin before eventually shrug, That is a mystery to me as well, Your Highness. I have to ask for your forgiveness as well, for I cannot figure it out. Phillipe bowed courteously while the young princess turned to continue walkig, her nose held high. The retainer grimaced at her utter lack of respect for him, the Mage General of Etruria! Accursed royalty.

Cain inspected the market from atop his horse. Despite the impending hostilities with Bern, the people were in a celebratory mood, and business was moving along nicely. Even the very weather was working to assist the mood, with the sun shining out clearly, and the sky a clear cerulean color. Normally, such a scene would earn his approval - as stern as he was, one of the few things that moved him was the sight of his people prospering - but right now, all he could feel in regards to what he saw before him was a bitter sense of disappointment.

Where were the musters? The armsmen? There was nothing, no hint at all that they were preparing for the inevitable conflict coming to them. Did they think, perhaps, that just because they were furthest from the conflict, that they had nothing to worry about? It was pure folly, and he was here to inform them of it. To that measure, he would need to speak with the village counselors.

He was hoping his status as the heir to the House of Tania, one of the Lycian territories most likely to be hit first, would be enough to allow him an audience. Normally, authority was not much of an issue, but Ravenne was so far off from his own House that it was possible that his words would weigh little with them.

It was as he was making his way to the council meeting when he spied something unusual. It was a woman, beautiful even from a distance, with long red hair that contrasted with her bronze skin and glimmering blue eyes. Her manner of dress, and that of the man accompanying her, gave away her status. She was highborn, of that there was no doubt, which left the question: from where did she come from?

She wasn't Lycian, of that he was sure; he was familiar with all the prominent members of the Lycian houses, and her style of dress was unmistakably Etrurian. But what would an Etrurian noble be doing here at the border of Lycia? They usually had no business here asides from the occasional social events or weddings, and even then, those usually occurred in Ostia.

Unless they were here for reconnaissance . . . ?

Cain's eyes narrowed. Some would say it was a it much to be suspicious of a person you haven't even talked to, but to that, he would say that they weren't in danger of imminent invasion.

Tactically, it made complete sense. Should Bern invade and successfully annex even a part of Lycia, it would substantially boost the mobility of their warmachine, not to mention bolster their supply chain by a huge margi, an outcome that was all too plausible due to the increasing decadence of Lycia's leaders.

If that was the case then Etruria had two choices: to form a defensive pact with Lycia, which was unlikely given the futility of that course of action, or, more efficiently, annex some Lycian territory for themselves in order to stop Berns advance cold.

It was the most logical course of action to take, and he would even give his grudging approval if that was their course of action.

He wouldn't allow them to get very far, but he would acknowledge the utility of the choice.

Lysander stood in an alley away from the bustling crowd. His dark cloak concealed the upper parts of his face, but one might be able to spot his grimace if they dared looked at him.

He did not like being outside while the sun was still out. He was forced to squint as his eyes never seemed to get use to the natural light. And worse still, he found himself in the middle of the village marketplace, which was naturally lively and full of salesperson and shoppers and possibly thieves.

He had caught the attention of a few children as they passed by him and sometimes they would point him out to their mothers only for them to be shooed away. "Get away from that strange man," they would say in a scolding manner.

"Ouch," Lysander thought to himself. "I don't blame them, but couldn't she have spared my feelings a little?" This was why he preferred books over actual, living people.

He then shook his head and refocused himself on his mission. There was a book on sale in this market that he was dying to get his hands on. He wanted it badly enough for him to leave the refuge of his inn room and seek it out in broad daylight. The merchant with the book was within his sights, just across the sea of people. But every time he tried to step out of his hiding spot in the alley, a rush of people seemed to run by and he has not gotten the nerve to push through the crowd. So instead, he watched patiently, hoping that there would be a chance for him to make his way across to his precious book.

His moment came when a young redheaded girl stopped in her tracks to express her disdain for her company. It was for a short moment but her voice was loud enough where a few people had also stopped and turned to see what was going on. Without missing a beat, Lysander serpentined his way through the crowd. It appeared as if a black shadow was cutting across the marketplace.

When he finally reached his destination, his pale face was flushed from the short sprint he took to get there. But his next challenge was one of the worst yet. He had to talk to the merchant and ask to purchase the book.

If he was lucky, his appearance would spook the merchant enough not to mess with him. But Lysander was rarely lucky, and he knew his shy nature would give the merchant an opportunity to rip him off and overcharge for the book. Still, Lysander had to go for it. He pointed at the book to ask, "How much?" without needing to speak.

The merchant looked at him with a puzzled expression but simply answers,"800 gold."

Lysander felt faint. After all of this effort, he didn't have enough money for what he desired? What could he do now?

Alphonse cracked his neck from one side to the other as he climbed up out of the rowing boat and onto a sandy beach outside Ravenne, he grabbed his bag and his ever trusty axe from inside the boat then peered up at the morning sun before looking over and across at the village a couple of miles further down the coast. "Well, guess this is it. Can't be riskin' getting too close to the village, y'know." Murmured Peter, the gruff and weathered crew member that had so kindly rowed Al to the shore. "I 'aint gonna' say I'll miss ya' or nuffin' but er...Hope you don't die, alright?"

"Ah, Pate" Al began, speaking softly.
"Pete." He was abruptly corrected before continuing.
"Ah, Pete. Think we both know I don't belong that ship, your kind words are appreciated though, maybe when I've got a ship of my own you can come join me."
"Yeah, right, sure." Pete just rolled his eyes. "Give us a shove off."
With a grunt, the Gull dropped his things on the sand and pushed against the boat to send it back into the sea where the sailor inside it offered a parting two fingered salute and began rowing back out towards the ship he had come from. Al's attention went back towards the town as he picked up his bag and slung it over his back then tucked his hand axe into his belt.

It was not the young man's first time leaving a crew, it was however the first time he had left of his own accord with the good fortune to make it away with not only a rowing boat but also a hefty pouch of gold snagged right out of the ship's hold, granted the crew might not have been so willing to part on good terms if they were aware of that part.

Scrambling up the hill beside the beach that he had landed on, Al hacked his way through a patch of dense bushes before stumbling out onto what appeared to be a well used road, his suspicions of it's use were confirmed when he spied a cart rounding the corner being pulled by a pair of horses. He waved to the driver who halted, looked to be older man, the farming type, though his grey beard rivalled that of any pirate. "You on your way to Ravenne?" He queried in a thick rural accent. "Sure am." Nodded Al. "Don't suppose I could catch a ride?" The farmer seemed sceptical but shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the back of the cart. "Climb in back n' we'll be off." Clasping his hands together in a display of thanks, the seafarer made his way around to the back and hopped up.

The Gull's greedy eyes scanned over the haul of fresh fruit that was stacked in boxes and wooden bowls as he sat down and the cart set off with a jolt, he called out to the farmer as they rode along. "Hey, can I have some of this? Haven't had fruit in ages." The driver looked over his shoulder and simply stared before looking ahead again. "Fine, but just one orange, don't want you dying of scurvy, damned pirates." This caused Al to smirk. "What gave it away? The hat? The axe?"
"The salt in your hair, on your face, and the damn smell too. You'd think being surrounded by water would make it easier to bathe once in a while." The pirate just chuckled as he pulled an orange from one of the boxes and peeled off the skin. "Cheers, and you try staying clean when you've got to sleep and work surrounded by sailors." With a huff, the farmer seemed to retire from the conversation and the rest of the journey passed in a comfortable quiet as the young man enjoyed the sights of greenery giving way to the buildings and small merchant square in the village.

Once the ride was over, the pair parted ways, after Al helped unload some of the fruits of course and was tossed an apple for his help. He stretched and looked over the market, wondering what he should go shopping for first...

The stuck up royal let out another groan of intense force. This time it was directed at the great crowds that filled up the rather modest-sized streets, and more specifically the noise. She was certainly not if this commoner's world, and found herself both uncomfortable with the various unrefined odours as well as the extremely rigid logistics required to manoeuver through the masses. In short, she felt claustrophobic. Nothing like the massive halls in her home, without the gentle, lingering scent of myrrh and perfume and the loyal guards that'd take their own lives of she ordered it. "Phillipe! I demand you to clear a path for me! I wish not to soil my exquisite clothing with filthy, smelly, sweaty bodies in this town forsaken by Elimine herself!" She ordered her retainer, arms crossed by her chest, and a rather stern expression. One thing was clear, she could not keep her voice down, and despite the bustling life there were still those that gave her a hostile look. Good thing she didn't notice.

The poor retainer that so desired to not catch any attention had already failed that task. Keeping a groan of his own contained, the sage peered onto the bulk of people. He had a skilled eye atleast, catching the cautious eye of a lone swordsman and a robed man running to the closest bookstore. Interesting individuals, those, he noted. But kept his discovery a secret for now. With a sigh, he flicked open a tome hidden within his robe and gently pointed at a building. Within seconds, the building flashed up into a fire. Subtle, he was not.

Ellynorah blinked surprised at his chosen method, though quickly gave a shrug. This town was not her own business, nor did it even belong to her beloved mother and acceptable father. Who cares if a house catches fire anyways? And it worked as well, the crowds stopped up and gazed at the burning house in some kind of enchanting awe, but it mattered not to her. She could now tap towards the main forum of the town atop her horse without having to wait for old people to cross the streets. And that she intended to do. With a quick jab into the horse's flank, she drove the steed off and down the path while whistling a tune to herself, and with the poor Etrurian General running behind her.

The act caused much commotion and it seemed there were more people in the crowd that used this as a chance to break free. One of them were a robed male, hardly breaking 5'5 in stature and with his body slightly bent forward, as of crooked and shy of light. Another was a seemingly panicking man wearing the mark of the town counsel, his feet lightly sprinting down the streets. His eyes were wrought in fear, uncertain to what, while carrying a large scroll in his arms. The retainer noted both, and added them to his registry of interesting people.

"How much longer 'till we get to the nearest city?" Mathias asked, his tone making clear the fact that he was exhausted and quite fed-up with walking as long as he had been. "I think my legs are gonna fall asleep if I walk even a foot more..."

"Come, now, Mathias," Vivian said from atop her horse. "Leave your complaining for when your attempts at flirting inevitably fail once again. I've spent enough time with you to know that nothing breaks you easier than rejection."

"It's not my fault that most women I make advances on can't tell a player from a gambler..." the young mercenary mumbled under his breath. "And how come I can't ride on your horse with you?" he asked, raising his voice. "It'd save us both from a lot of headaches."

"Because I know you can't commandeer a horse, and if you were to ride behind me, you would take advantage of your position to grope me."

"That's not true!"

"It is. You've done it before."

"I-I meant the horse bit!" Mathias snapped back, flustered.

"Both of the facts are true," Vivian responded calmly. "Regardless, it seems that we've arrived at a new town, and...hm?" Vivian stopped her horse at the gate, eyeing something above where they've just arrived.

"YES! FINALLY!" Despite the exhaustion that Mathias had been complaining about so much, the mercenary rushed into the village, eager to get some food, drinks, and (hopefully) women.

Meanwhile, as Vivian gingerly rode her horse into Ravenne, she caught eye of a house that was on fire. It was no doubt the work of brigands, which the cavalier began scouring the town for. Evildoers such as these must be brought to justice, and swiftly.

It was rare that Kisyra traveled this far from Bulgar, and never before had she traveled further south than the northern reaches of Bern, let alone this far into Lycia, but this man, this monster she was hunting, merited it. A cruel man who had raped and killed his way through Bulgar - and continued to do so as she tracked him, with utter disregard for the trail he was leaving. She'd killed bandits and mercenaries who had served with him and under him along the way, but reaching him...

She was starting to consider that after this long, and this far, she might need to let this go. The criminal element in Bulgar remained despite her absence, and could only grow larger without pruning. Making the endless fight only more endless.

But could she just deem a monster unworthy of her time? She could not make that call - this man was a violater of the oaths that held society together, a violater of the highest order. She couldn't leave him to his predations - and she had found others along her way. They merited death no less than any other just because they lived far from Bulgar and outside of her normal reach.

An obvious plainswoman, from her garb to her long green hair, Kisyra stood out, and her taciturn, uncommunicate nature only made that more so as she looked through the market, trying to find someone who would know the criminal element, who may be able to be induced to help her find her quarry.

She was drawn from her search when she saw a man with long white hair tucking what could only be a magical tome away as house caught fire. Kisyra wound her way through the crowd slowly, towards the man, her hand on her blade. Not her target, probably didn't even know him, but he had set a house on fire as casually as someone might pick their evening meal, with no regard for anyone or anything else. She couldn't just let that stand.

Cadfael had been staying in the local inn, he had left home hoping to meet with other leaders. Knowing Bern would no doubt try to take his homeland, his father wished to warn others that some tribes might try to ally with Bern. However, Cadfael knew few ways other than to simply ride out and petition nobles to meet with them and warn them himself. The tribes of the plains did not understand courtly manners very well but they were honest and good people they knew that.

Cadfael had been resting in the inn before pressing on to try and appeal to the Etruria for a possible alliance or at least a promise of aid when Bern came to battle. Just as the young nomad's meal arrived he heard calls and cries from outside of the inn, he looked at the innkeeper. "Hold my meal, please." He rose from the table grabbing his bow he whistled for Amelia, his horse cantered out as he climbed up onto the mare's back. Riding towards the sign of flames in the town. Spotting the house in flames and the two people who caused it in the way, he clicked his tongue and his horse broke into a gallop.

Few animals were as well trained and loyal horses of the nomads of Sacae nor were any as swift. While the horse lept carts and stalls while Caldfael drew back his bow three arrows in his left-hand nocking one an arrow whisked past the general's face before the nomad's horse stopping in front of the princess and her aid. "Destruction of private property is a crime, you'll go back and apologize for that... Or you'll face the justice of the plains." He threatened simply, another arrow trained on the man who had started the flames. "Before you reach for the tome again, I'd advise not to... I am Caldfael, prince of Kutolah my arrow is faster then your hand, trust that."

Kisyra had not expected to see another plainsman here - she knew some traveled into Lycia as mercenaries, but this was a small town on the fringes of one of the cantons. But sure enough, there was one here, and like her, he seemed to be feeling a sense of justice as he drew his bow on the spellcaster who had so easily and blithely destroyed a house. When he identified himself as a prince, of the Kutolah of all tribes, she couldn't help her skepticism, but she didn't say anything.

What would a Prince being doing this far from the Plains? Even if he spoke the truth, it was irrelevant. When it came to dealing with spellcasters, numbers was always useful.

Kisyra drew close behind the spellcaster and put her hand on her blade, drawing it just a little, enough for the sound of it being drawn to ring out a little. "And so too is my blade, mage." She added softly, her voice low and deadly. He'd only burned this house, but no one did something criminal so casually unless they'd already done it. And probably worse. So death was probably just right for the man if he stepped out of line.

Lysander's pity party was cut short when suddenly a building caught on fire. There were a few screams and gasps, as one would expect to happen if a building suddenly burst into flames. Just by looking at it, Lysander could tell that it was not a normal, 'accidental' fire. It was the work of another mage, and the fact that someone with magic would do such an awful thing... Well, Lysander could only hope that the perpetrator had a good reason for it. Or else Lysander would not stand for it.

He rushed toward the scene of the crime and saw that there were already two others threatening the criminal. On the other hand, Lysander's first instinct was to make sure no one was inside of the burning building. "I-i-is anyone inside?" he stammered in the bravest voice he could muster.

An older man who was there when it happened, shook his head. Lysander sighed with relief. "One less thing to worry about," he thought to himself. He then focused his energy on trying to contain the fire. He didn't possess the ability to put it out, but he could at least try to prevent it from spreading to the other buildings. Hopefully, he could do it long enough for others to come along and put it out. "W-w-w-water?" he said, shakily and slowly as he was trying not to break his concentration. "N-need to p-put out the fire."