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Preparations were underway for Queen Meliscente to travel to the Land of Long Nights, accompanied by her son, Myrus Silvers. It would be good experience for him - a first hand example in the politics that nations found themselves in. And for better or worst, the boy was filled with wanderlust. As much as Queen Meliscente wished that Myrus would fix his eyes on the Castle and not other lands, she could not change his spirit.

"I present Field-Marshal Gwydion Puck of the Young Army, my Queen," the herald announced.

"You may rise," Queen Meliscente said, an eyebrow arched. The Young Army had its beginnings in the Castle, but it had also met its end there. It had concluded during the transition time between the rules of Queen Cerys and Queen Jenna. For anyone to claim association with the Young Army...Well, it was madness. It had been centuries since that organization was even a well known name.

"Thank you, my Queen," a short man said as he rose from his knelt position in front of Queen Meliscente. "As the herald explained, I am in command of the Young Army. I have already anticipated your confusion - we may have no longer held a basis in the Castle, yet this hardship only made us stronger. We have more troops than ever before, as well as resources and the finest weaponry the world can provide."

Queen Meliscente rose from her seat on the throne. Two guards drew their swords in anticipation. "Forgive me, Puck, yet I must hope that you did not seek an audience with me merely to brag about the accomplishments of an outdated and barbaric institution. You may claim that they are soldiers, yet they are children, are they not? I should have you hanged, in order to liberate your supposed troops."

Puck was quiet for a moment, before he chuckled with a broad grin. "My Queen, you are mistaken. While in the days of old, the Young Army did steal children from their homes to build her ranks, we now take in those who lived life on the streets. We provide them with a family, shelter, and needed nourishment."

"I ask that you welcome the Young Army into the Castle," Puck continued. "We are strong and large, yet this is where our organization was born. This place is our heritage - our ancestral home," he argued.

Queen Meliscente averted her gaze for a moment, before turning to face Puck once more. Her expression hardened. "I recognize your surname, Field Marshal. Do you bear relation to the vile Jadis Puck, the Wendron Witches' Witch Mother?"

"She is my sister, my Queen," Gwydion answered, clearing his throat. "Yet my familial relations should not change the merit of my request."

Queen Meliscente nodded. "They do not. My answer is firm, Field Marshal. The Young Army will not be welcomed into the Castle. I care not the manners in which you recruit - you are still fighting battles with children that pretend they are soldiers. Leave, before I change my mind and have the guards kill you where you stand."

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"I'm sorry that it had to come to this, my Queen," a strong voice said. The room was lit by a single candle, with shadows cast on the wall that prevented any identification. Queen Meslicente of the Castle slept softly, unaware of her company. No guards had stirred either. Only those of royal blood could enter the Queen's chambers without assistance, thanks to an ancient Magyk crafted by some ExtraOrdinary Wizard eons ago.

The figure took a step forward, their cloak concealing their face and features. "You always placed so much faith in destiny - a proper order that the world must follow," the figure continued. The cloaked figure withdrew a gleaming object from a pocket and paused for a moment, letting it simply rest in their hand. "It's a lie, my Queen. There is no such thing as destiny. It is simply an excuse you have used to ignore the suffering, to dismiss it as the natural order."

Had the figure's visage been visible from underneath the shadows cast by the cloak, perhaps Queen Meliscente could have stirred awake to see an almost peaceful smile. Instead, the gleaming object began to spin rapidly in the figure's hand. Queen Meliscente's veins became prominent, turning a dark shade of emerald as she gasped for breath. Her auburn hair slowly lost its sheen, with grey hairs and white hairs beginning to take its place.

"Return to your sleep, my Queen. When you wake, you will not remember this - but all the same, I want you to know by whose hand you will die - you will know who liberated the Castle from your tyranny and pedantry," the figure finished. As the object began to spin faster and faster, to the point that it surely had to hurt to hold, an emerald light enveloped the room just as the figure lowered their hood. It was blinding.

"Now you know, my Queen."

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The sun had risen over the Castle less than an hour ago, on the shortest day of the year and the longest night. The Winter Solstice has always held significance not just for witches, but for the people of the Castle as well. Queen Meliscente had been coronated on the Spring Solstice and her reign would finally close on the Winter Solstice. There was a certain symbolism to be had there - a sense of completion and peace, despite the Darkenesse that threatens to sweep through the Castle.

On this day, Princess Valda will be coronated as the Queen of the Castle. Monarchs and representatives from various corners of the world have made the long journey to the Small Wet Country Across the Sea in order to observe the coronation - perhaps due to sentiment or more likely, a desire to better trade relations with the new monarch. The ceremony is to begin at noon - not a minute before and not a minute after. Everyone in the Castle is welcome attend, with the rolling Palace grounds prepared with an appropriate amount of seating.

@jdh97: The Wendron Witches had been anticipating this day for a little less than fourteen years. Ever since little Valda had been CradleSnatched by Jadis Puck, the current Wendron Witch Mother, they had anticipated the day when Valda would take the throne. With a Wendron Witch in power, the Castle would be open to the Coven. Rather than relying on orphaned children and the offspring of current members, they could openly recruit the children of the Castle to increase their size. Never before had a Witch Coven been this close to power and Jadis was certain that Valda would not forget her true family when she became Queen. A grand feast for the Winter Solstice had been all but finished, ready for the witches to delve into once Valda became Queen.

"Are we ready, sisters?" Jadis asked, wearing her finest witch's cloak as she exited her hut. "We are to meet our little sister, Valda, at the Palace," she explained. They would need to walk through the Forest and make their way to the North Gate. From there, they could walk to the Palace.

@LadyRunic: The Meadows run the small little storefront currently serving as Rhys' fence in Snake Slipway. While they tend to keep to themselves and interact with Rhys just as much as is necessary, he can hear footsteps coming up the stairs, followed by the sound of a package hitting the ground gently. "Mister, some old hag dropped these off for you," Jim Meadow explained. His footsteps could then be heard as he descended the stairs. Rhys wasn't expecting any packages. Once opened, the package would reveal a handmade map of the Palace with painstaking attention to detail. There's a small note in the margins that simply reads Use it wisely.

@KazAlkemi: The boats at the Traders' Docks are relatively peaceful and quiet. Most of the traders have already opened up their stalls for the day at the Traders' Market, as the inhabitants of the Castle will pay almost any price to purchase a last minute gift for their new Queen. Halvor Odinsen had boasted the night before that he'll make enough money on coronation day that he'll never need to voyage to the Castle again to trade.

A group of three walks along the Traders' Docks however. Mavis Moll, the Senior Alchemie Apprentice, is escorting the delegation from the Land of Long Nights - the Chief of the Hanseatic League and their Crown Princess. Mavis is giving the tour as while she was born in the Castle, her father was a Northern Trader, making her uniquely qualified to welcome the delegation.

@Nallore: Luna has a frightfully busy day ahead of her, on which what could have been the start of her reign as Queen of the Castle. The delegation from the Eastern SnowPlains arrived the night before and has been sleeping in the Guest Wing of the Palace. The people of the Eastern SnowPlains are rather religious and had told Luna not to disturb them before 9:30 that morning, as they would be spending time in prayer. Yet it seems the universe doesn't wish to give her half an hour to relax, as a rat scurries into her room. But that itself isn't the cause for alarm - as this rat happens to be a message rat. If she simply says Speak, Rattus Rattus the message rat will deliver her its message.

@BlueSky44: Whether Valda's been awake for hours or continues to sleep, at exactly 9:00 on the dot there's a series of frantic knocks at her door. Only her blood relatives can enter her chambers without help - and perhaps morbidly, it was in these chambers that her mother died. Queen Meliscente's ghost has not Appeared to anyone yet. But per the rules of ghost hood, her spirit must dwell there for One Year and a Day. Maybe when the time is right, her mother will Appear to her. But for now, it's the Palace herald at the door. "Your highness, Field-Marshal Puck of the Young Army has requested an audience with you prior to the coronation. He says it is an urgent matter..."

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Arya had risen early that day. She adored watching the sunrise from the top of Wizard Tower, as the sun slowly illuminated the silver building and gave it a surprisingly purple sheen. While she knew that it was all of the residual Magyk of the tower, it still took her breath away without fail. She loved to climb out onto what once had been used as a landing bay and feel the rays hit her skin. It had terrified Rowland when she did that, as he was convinced that she would fall twenty one stories and hit the ground.

Yet sunrises didn't last forever as time pressed on. She had duties to attend to as ExtraOrdinary Wizard. And by tradition, she would need to be present for the coronation, in order to place the crown on Valda and declare her the next Queen of the Castle. Arya closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the soft ebb and flow of the Magyk before she climbed down from the landing base, sliding in through a window and back inside the safety of the 21st floor.

She walked down their simple staircase to the 20th floor. Since both floors belonged to the ExtraOrdinary Wizard and their Apprentice, there was no need to say a password or unlock any door. In fact, the grand spiral staircase of Wizard Tower stopped at the 20th floor, right on their doorstep. "Atkin, breakfast will be ready soon!" Arya called out, as she stepped into the kitchen.

Arya snapped her fingers and the kitchen roared into life. A Fyre appeared underneath the kettle, already filled with water for tea. Biscuits and jam slowly began to assemble themselves, quickening the place after an irritated glare from Arya. Plates and utensils then flew from the cupboard, with the chairs at the table pulling themselves out in preparation for the two wizards.

"And don't forget, your potions inquiry needs to be on my desk before we leave for the coronation," Arya added. She preferred to have a hands on approach to teaching, yet sometimes, problem sets were necessary. And on a day like this, Atkin's main lessons would be in the various responsibilities that wizards were expected to perform for the Queen of the Castle - and in most cases, without any thanks at all.

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Nera's crow, Marvolo, was perched on her shoulder as she ate her morning meal. She had prepared the porridge herself - as while she had no doubts as to the cooking abilities of others in the Coven, she was not going to present Malekith with an opportunity to poison her. The Badlands had taught her many lessons - that just so happened to be one of them. Some of the newer witches in the Coven didn't take a second thought to eating any meal, regardless of who made them. Dear little Sybil had needed the skills presented by Physik to restore her nose to normal size after one incident.

Unfortunately, the Badlands had not taught Nera on how to make a meal that was both edible and tasteful. Her porridge had tasted like nothingness, no matter what spice she attempted to add to the mixture.

Once she finished her meal and took care of her dishes, Nera went in search of Fleur. "Joyous Winter Solstice, Witch Mother," Nera greeted as soon as she found her. The Port Witch Coven House was not terribly large. It had four floors in total, though the attic allowed access to the neighboring houses through a plank that had been turned into a makeshift drawbridge.

Marvolo flew off of Nera's shoulder, making his way towards a window before vanishing. The bird simply needed a chance to stretch his wings and Nera didn't mind. "Valda will be crowned in three hours, Witch Mother. What is our strategy?"

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It was going to be a long and tiring day for Myrus. While he himself had relatively little to do during the Coronation, he and Luna had made an agreement on splitting up the delegations that would arrive. He was going to handle the visitors from the Big Wild Land Over the Ocean, whereas Luna would deal with the Eastern SnowPlains. Myrus had gotten the luck of the draw - the Eastern SnowPlains were terribly fond of etiquette and rules. It'd be at least fifteen minutes before introductions and pleasantries concluded once Luna greeted them. The Land of Long Nights could more or less be juggled between the two of them.

But before he went to see the delegation - they'd be arriving at the Port within the hour - he had a favor to ask. Underneath his arm was a book wrapped in silk, titled Organisk Syntese. He had picked it up in the Land of Long Nights when he was there with his late mother and the scribes had finally finished restoring it. It was the perfect gift with which to win the affection of his ex-girlfriend, Mavis Moll. She was the Senior Alchemie Apprentice and her father had been a Northern Trader. It seemed to be the perfect combination of those two aspects of her life - and he was pretty sure the book was about Alchemie...At least, he assumed it was. He couldn't read the Old Tongue of the Land of Long Nights.

A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. What if Mavis couldn't read it either? She had to...right? He tried to reassure himself that she absolutely had to speak the Old Tongue. He made his way to Lyra's door, noting the small label of Lyra Laurek. It was a bit crumbled and crinkled, having been placed there to cover up the carving of the previous resident's name.

"Erm, Lyra? It's Myrus," he said, knocking on the door. "Are you decent? I need you - I mean, I need a favor, if that's alright. Shouldn't be too long. And Valda won't need you just yet. You know how she is - she won't be awake for another hour I bet."

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Valda had been awake for a while, after all, it was probably the biggest day in her life so far, and she was nervous. She had no idea how things were going to go, and she was nervous. The night before, she hadn't gotten much sleep, but now today was the day, and she needed to prepare for it as much as possible. When the knock came at the door, and she heard the voice coming from the otherside, Valda paused, thinking of how the name sounded familiar.

The man, he was related to Jadis, the Wendron Witch Mother. She remembered that he had come by every few years to see her, but that was all she knew about him. So, he worked with the Young Army, that was an interesting thing to remember. "Just a moment," she called out to the herald, as she rolled out of the bed, and was standing up, ready to go. She had gone to just laying down on her back in the bed when she woke up, after getting dressed of course. Valda was ready to go, for the most part. The thought of what the rest of the day would bring still made her worry. This was going to take a lot of getting used to still, despite being back in the Palace for a while now.

She walked through the door, and looked at the herald who was there. "Alright then, let's get this done ," she said as she started walking. This was going to be an interesting conversation. It made her wonder, what was so urgent that he wanted to talk to her before the coronation. She hadn't seen this guy for a while either, and so it made her wonder what this was about.

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Atkin stood in front of the mostly bare wall of his room, paper held against it in place by his left hand as he put the final touches on the assignment he had been given the day before. He had been more than awake for quite a few hours now just working on this damn thing and by the time Arya had called for breakfast he'd gone over the whole thing in his head dozens of times.

Since beginning his apprenticeship he'd found that there were times where he needed the early start if he wanted to actually get his work done by the deadlines given to him. Growing up on the streets had prepared him for a lot, writing down answers for practice problems were not one of them. Each letter took him a good few seconds to complete to his satisfaction. The pen felt awkward in his hand and the movements that writing took even more so. Mentally, he knew what he needed to do, but having his hand do it to the point where it could be read was the difficult part.

Finally done, the wizard apprentice tossed his pen onto his desk, from which it promptly bounced off and rolled underneath his bed. Whatever, he'd pick it up later. Trying to shake away the cramps in his writing hand and stifling a yawn with the other, Atkin strolled into the kitchen. A kitchen that cooked and cleaned for you was still weird, but not nearly as off putting as his first day here when he thought the place was haunted. Despite the busting it had, it felt dead when he was used to his mum and sisters scurrying about getting everything done.

"Potions inquiry done," Atkin declared with another half-yawn as he slapped the paper down onto the table. As he sat down he idly wondered was would be for breakfast. Today was supposed to be Coronation day, so there would be some sort of feast later, right? That was the kind of thing that was supposed to happen on these big events, at least it seemed right. So perhaps something light only meant to hold them over until later. However, altogether he wasn't really excited for the event. It seemed like it'd be an overly long, stuffy ritual where everyone involve would end up with sore feet or a sore rear end. Not at all what he would be interested in spending his day with, but that was likely how it would all turn out. The sacrifices one had to make.

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Luna had already been up for the last two hours, in her room she was getting herself ready for the long and busy day ahead, today would have been her coronation if Valda hadn't shown up. She couldn't help but be a tad bit jealous about her, since she had been getting ready for this very moment only for it to be suddenly taken away. Now she was helping her play catchup along with her brother Myrus to make sure that everything went smoothly. Luna closed her eyes letting out a slight sigh she had spent the night before tending to the Eastern SnowPlains delegation, she respected their wishes and she would meet them at nine thirty, which was about thirty minutes from now.

Luna walked over to her closet as she started to search for what she was going to wear for the day, finding a red dress which she didn't wear all that often. Luna started to get out of her nigh gown neatly laying it down on the bed next to her, and started to put the dress on along with her red cloak she always wore on her. Luna then made her way over towards her dresser, started to comb her long red hair and made sure that she looked presentable for Valda's big day.

Luna jumped slightly when she felt something touching against her feet, when she looked down at it she saw that there was a rat there looking up at her. Luna let out a soft sigh as she slowly started to kneel down picking the little guy up in her hands knowing that it was a Messenger Rat. Though she started to wonder who it was actually from as Luna gently set the rat down on the table in front of her mirror and sat down. "Speak, Rattus Rattus." Luna said calmly as she finished up the last of her preperations to make her look presentable for her delegation and the coronation as well.

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It was a warm twilight, thankfully. At the edge of the Small Lake lined with Willow Trees, perhaps a half hour scramble through underbrush from the Wendron Witch Circle, Little-Bell stood with her bare feet in its shore. Mud had squelched up between her toes. Water lapped at her ankles, cool and refreshing. She had been there for hours.

In one hand she held a flat pebble. In the other, a fine brush. The palette floated next to her. A pink slither of tongue escaped her lips as she painted in the dim light, her eyes unblinking. Around the drooping branches of the Willows, fireflies hovered, adding a yellow-green glow to the hazy-blue moonlight. Insects chirped and buzzed from the grass. Every so often a night owl punctuated the disordered orchestra with a hoot. The lake shone like liquid diamonds. The surface of the pebble was a near exact image of the scene, save for the brushstrokes.

Turning the stone skywards, the paints of the pebble shifted too, now reflecting the starry sky and the full moon, but they seemed somewhat dulled. Bell wedged her brush, oddly larger now, under her armpit, and pulled a multifaceted jewel from her satchel. Each and every face shone in the twilight. She whispered a word, and graciously the jewel turned to fine powder. Bell blew this from her palm onto the pebble she still held aloft, and on its surface, the stars were instilled with twinkle and sparkle.

“Mother Moon, bless this gift for one of your daughters who is to become royalty, let her know your grace even when she is behind walls of brick and stone,” Bell intoned, and then kissed the pebble. She looked at it for a while, then smiled slowly, her eyes drooping. Putting her wand and the pebble away, she yawned.

She would sleep well that night.

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Bell was sitting on a stone outside her hut, moss acting as a cushion. She took the pebble from her satchel again to check her handiwork. The paints now showed a lake gleaming in sunlight, bright green grass no longer dulled in moonlight. At the edge of the lake a deer drank from the water, and Bell watched as the ripples dispersed into nothingness. She beamed. It was such a great gift. She put it away, giggling, stomping her feet with glee, spraying dew droplet from the grass.

She was dressed in her favourite burgundy and gold robe, closer to a dress, and a thick, woven belt wrapped itself around her midsection. At some point she had worked several bluebells into her hair. With her face tilted upwards, still grinning, she soaked in the morning, taking a deep breath.

When Jadis appeared, Bell danced up to her. “Of course Witch Mother. Of course I’m ready. We get to see sweet little Valda,” She clasped her hands together and pulled them to her chest, saying to and fro, “such a big day for her.”

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Fleur awoke that morning feeling quite happy. Today was a glorious day, after all. The Coronation was approaching this Winter Solstice and she had much to prepare for. She didn't receive an invitation. A glaring mistake on their part. She was going to attend, of course. It was a happy occasion and she did so love a party.

As Fleur dressed and made her way around her room, Nera entered. Fleur fought an eye roll. "Nera, I did tell you before to stop referring me as Witch Mother. It makes me sound so old. The others should, but you are special, my dear." It was true. Nera was someone she trusted without fault. Trust wasn't something she gave freely either, so this was special.

Fleur cracked a wicked grin at Nera's question. A plan? "A plan, my dear? I figured we'd just wing it!" She chuckled as she made her way over to the girl. "We will be attending the Coronation, invitation or not. How we get in is a matter yet undecided, but I love a challenge, as you well know. Mortals are no match for us anyway and I doubt the guards will be too nitpicky to check every invitation. Either way, we'll get in. I need to find Malekith. He will be so useful once inside."

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Rhys had been awake albeit not for long. It was a big and important day after all! The day of the new Queen's coronation, Rhys splashed water on his face from the basin on his dresser. Glancing at the door, a hand straying to a sword as footsteps were heard. Rhys let go of the sword as Jim Meadow called through the door. "Mister, some old hag dropped these off for you," It wasn't that he particularly disliked the man or liked him. But the Meadows kept to themselves and out of his way. A clever thing to do as he owned the building and supplied them with the goods they sold. As much as he would sell them to save his own soul, Rhys couldn't help but cherish a kernel of his younger and foolish self. For if his fence was threaten, the rogue former Ordinary Wizard would slaughter the offender. It wasn't a kindness per se, but more of a possessive nature that rankled him with thoughts of Fleur- or any woman- sharing another man's bed and enjoying it more than his.

But that was his ego. Opening the door to his landing, Rhys mopped his face dry with a old shirt before tossing it into a corner. He'd have to clean at some point. Picking up the package he frowned as he carelessly opened it. It was a hard day and if something exploded all the more reason to not go to a stupid coronation. But the object revealed stunned him. A hag? Not the Witch surely? She would have wanted something in return. The map was incredibly detailed. Someone had been watching him.

Growling deeply in his barreled chest, Rhys shrugged on a elegant shirt. Finishing his dressing, the wizard- rogue wizard- chuckled. "It's a special day. Coronation days. It's a day to relax, party, wish our new queen well." Gathering his gear, he fitted himself out to look as dazzling as possible. With a ebony long coat and a creme shirt underneath. A deep gold vest and a set of black leggings- impressively tight. He mussed over his appearance before snatching a golden one and applying it about his neck. There, dashing and though it wasn't his usual dark color. He felt he had to sacrifice something for this gallant day. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard bitch would be there. And Rhys smiled at his reflection. That poor woman would leave with a shadow to haunt her.

He hid away his knives on his person per usual and belted on his sword. If the guards complained he'd make them forget or perhaps he'd used this lovely map to work out how to get into the palace without guards. Studying over it, he stepped out of his flat. His sense alert and away as he laid his hand against the door and boundry line so to speak of his home. "Bar this door. Charm Lock it all. Conceal my entry." The door would be barred, the house locked, and the entry to his home hidden. He trusted no one and with good reason, as he walked towards the doorway outside still studying the map.

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The docks were still in the early morning of the Winter Solstice. Yet beyond the wall, the Castle began to wake in preparation for the Crown Princess's coronation. Last minute purchases would be made and the Traders' from the Land of Long Nights were eager to sell their best items; however, there was one booth that remained empty.
Cuyler wandered the deck of the ship he traveled in on, double checking that the masts and bindings were properly stored and tied for their remaining time there. He had just finished transferring his remaining items onto the dock below when a scurrying noise caught his attention. A low growl sounded, leading Cuyler to turn around and investigate what was about to attack. He crossed his arms and gave his Night Transformer a look. Thia, and her pure viscious nature immediately dropped to the deck and rolled over, belly exposed and with her tongue lolling out to the side, seemed to grin at Cuyler.
"I think I prefer the wolf better." In response Thia sneezed before righting herself and trotted over to the young man. He bent down, scratched between her ears and tossed her a chunk of meat.
Cuyler smirked and stood back up, looking around the boat once again before sighing. This crossing would be Cuyler's last one for awhile. Over the last few years he had been selling more and more at each Traders' Market, saving every cent for this moment when he would dedicate the winter to finding who attacked his village all those years ago. Cuyler's concentration was interrupted by three distinct footsteps echoing along the dock. He moved towards the stern, the wind blowing along the exposed places of his face until he stopped and placed his hands along the soft wood of the boat and watched the people approach. Even from the distance, he recognized the three people and took a moment to watch them, listening to the voices as they were carried to him from the generous wind.
As they neared, Cuyler moved over and hopped over the gunwale and onto the ramp before jumping down onto the dock. Here he gathered a few of his belongings and started moving them to his room at the Hefring. He would have to hurry now as Cuyler was hoping Arya needed a last minute gift for the future Queen, like so many others would.

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Unlike some, Lyra enjoyed the early morning hours. There was a serenity to it, a calmness before the chaos of the day, that she found quite therapeutic. She often found that it was during this time that she could set the tone for her day, and she would do that by centering and grounding herself with a little weapons practice. Perhaps it wasn't most people's ideal choice of morning activities; however, to her it was a vital part of her day. The mere repetition of the various fighting techniques she was trained in meant that it would all be committed to muscle memory. As such, should the need arise to take up arms, she would be plenty prepared.

Today was different from most though. It was coronation day. It was a day that marked the beginning of a new era, the reign of her mistress, the soon-to-be Queen Valda Kaur Kaimana Sarai. It was a day of excitement for many and apprehension for others. Lyra was smart enough to know that plenty were opposed to the idea of a witch taking the throne. To Lyra, that meant this day was fraught with many potential dangers for Valda. Many people were traveling from lands far and wide to The Palace, many who could have ill intent. There were more people than there were guards, which could potentially provide a small window of opportunity for someone to try to kill Valda before she is crowned. Not on Lyra's watch. She would be watching Valda like a hawk today, whether her young charge liked it or not.

Lyra woke up an entire hour earlier than usual, five o'clock sharp, just to prepare for the day. Something in her gut told her that there was no room for error today, so she pushed herself more than ever before during her routine weapons practice this morning. It was now nine o'clock. She had long since been dressed and ready for the day, and she was now sharpening and doing other routine maintenance on her weapons with what time she had to spare. Her weapons were laid out in the middle of her small bed in her similarly cramped quarters. The reverberating sound of metal on whetstone could be heard as she worked on sharpening one of her daggers with rhythmic strokes.

A sudden knock on her door broke her concentration, her hand stopping mid-stroke. Her pale blonde brows furrowed the slightest bit, as she wondered who would be interested in seeing her at this hour. The corners of her lips pulled up into smile as Myrus's voice came to her ears. She set the dagger and whetstone aside and wiped her hands on a rag before walking over to the door. With a friendly smile on her face, she opened the door to reveal the young prince on the other side. Despite him being several years younger than her, he was still half a foot taller than her, meaning she had to look up slightly to meet his gaze.

"Prince Myrus, it is a pleasure as always to see you. I hope you are well," she spoke, her voice kind and genuine. She gave a small curtsy, partly out of habit but still a show of respect nonetheless. She then opened her door wider, allowing him to enter if he so wished. "Now, what is it that I can do for you?" she asked, her green/blue eyes glancing down at the book he held in his arms before going up to meet his gaze once more.

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Malekith rolled out of bed late this morning without a care in the world. No really, he doesn't care, like, at all. And he most certainly does not care for the mornings. He's a night owl through and through. The early bird catches the worm? More like Malekith tortures the early bird all throughout the night, so he really doesn't want to be woken up during those godforsaken hours before eight and ten. Catch my drift?

Well, when he had finally risen for the day, he stumbled over to the mirror and basin bleary eyed. His nearly black hair was tousled in every which way from sleep, and his bare chest glistened with a thin layer of sweat that almost seemed to accentuate his muscles. He scrubbed the remnants of blood off of his hands in the basin, his mind wondering to last night's victim. She had been a beautiful brunette before he was done with her. It had been an enjoyable night of torture for him, despite her obnoxious screaming. Talk about the pitch that woman could attain. It was terribly grating on the ears.

Perhaps it would have been more reasonable for Malekith to have caught up on sleep the night before the coronation, considering Fleur's plans, but he couldn't help himself. He had just known that that brunette was the perfect specimen from the moment he had laid eyes on her. And he was most certainly not disappointed. But onto new, better things. The day was still young and sure to be filled to the brim with new opportunities for a little mischief, if his Witch Mother Fleur had any say about it. With a smirk at his reflection, Malekith combed out his hair and then pulled on his usual dark, leathery attire, before leaving his quarters forthwith.

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@jdh97: Jadis' eyes flashed with a bit of amusement at Bell's excitement. There was a range of emotion amongst the Wendron Witches - yet above all, there was a spark of excitement and adventure. This was not just an important day for Valda - it was the dawn of a new age for their coven - for witches in the Small Wet Country Across the Sea. While wizards were revered and respected, witches were regarded as mere filth by most of the big movers and shakers in society. Maybe it was simply due to fear of something they could not understand - or perhaps the practices that witches kept that distinguished them from wizards. Whatever the reason, it was their reality - and now, they had a chance to change that.

In total, all but four members of the coven were going to attend Valda's coronation. Someone had to stay behind to protect camp, just in case anyone attempted to take advantage of the witches' many supplies that made life in the Forest easier than it would be otherwise. "Are we gonna snatch any little Castle children, Jadis?" one of the witches asked gleefully. They had made it to the North Gate. Jadis merely nodded in reply, before turning her attention to the two guards posted on the bridge. There was a hint of resentment in the guards' faces, but they allowed the witch coven to pass nonetheless.

@LadyRunic: Now, this map is incredibly detailed and valuable, having notes in the margins that detail Palace schedules and traditions. It's as if someone made it with Rhys in mind, knowing how useful a tool it could be to him. As he studies the map, he will notice a label called the Queen's Room in the easternmost turret of the Palace. Next to it is another explanation, underlined twice - Main entry is Concealed. The map also shows the expansive corridor that leads from the grand entrance of the Palace directly to the Throne Room called the Long Walk. Off the Long Walk are two other features of note - the bedrooms of Myrus and Princess Luna.

@KazAlkemi: Cuyler makes his way into the Castle with no trouble, with the guards at the South Gate waving at him cheerfully. They recognize most of the Northern Traders at this point, having to let them in and out of the Castle constantly. And whenever a Northern Trader stays out of the Castle walls past dark, they get to collect a small fee from them in order to open the gates for them. It's caused some of the guards that work evenings to have a healthy supply of silver guthrums lining their pockets. At the Traders Market itself, the place is bustling with activity. Some of the stalls have already sold out, with people scrambling to buy a coronation present for Crown Princess Valda.

There's no sign of Arya unfortunately, but two individuals will catch his attention. The first is an Ordinary Wizard by his robes - Jarvis Yule. The second has a traveled aura to him, with a wizened and slightly unkempt beard - Blaise Rowland. Cuyler can just barely make out their conversation - "It's a shame they're all so picked over...I wanted to get a surprise for my daughter," Rowland said to his friend. His friend then promptly replied, "I believe your presence will be a surprise enough for Arya."

@Nallore: The rat stood up on its hind legs, shaking out its limbs for a moment. "Are you Princess Luna of the Castle?" the rat then paused, waiting for Luna to confirm her identity. "Message from Golds for Princess Luna of the Castle. Message reads: Princess, wizards don't know everything. Sometimes you need to look at things from a different perspective. I can help you find what really happened to your mother. Meet me at Sally Mullin's tonight at dusk. Come alone." The rat then paused for a moment, looking at the princess with apprehension. "Would you like to send a reply, your highness?" As Luna would know, message rat communications are strictly confidential. Yet there is still just one problem - she won't have any idea who Golds could possibly be.

@BlueSky44: As the herald led Valda to the Throne Room, Puck was already awaiting her. He was of rather short stature, yet underestimating him was a mistake that many had done before. He lacked his sister's witchy blue eyes, his eyes instead hardened like stone. His face was marred by a lengthy scar, yet it only served to make him appear ever the more intimidating. As Valda entered the room, Puck bowed cleanly before rising to his full height. "Valda, my dear, you've grown since I saw you last!" Puck exclaimed. He knew the proper rules of etiquette, but he had known Valda since she was but a babe.

"Thank you, your majesty, for agreeing to meet with me under such urgent circumstances. I have two subjects of which I am afraid we must discuss before you are crowned," Puck began, not waiting for an invitation to begin. He wanted this to be dealt with quickly. "Before your mother died, we spoke of reinstating the Young Army in the Castle. Queen Meliscente and I did not always agree - but this was something on which we were in an accord. She had meant to make the declaration the day she died - and while I wish it could wait, you are in dire need of forces, princess. Half of your guards believe that you have the Queen's blood on your hands and the other half will not respect you because of your Magyk."

"My troops lack bias - they do not see you as a murderer or a pretender to the throne, princess. I am offering you the support of the Young Army, in exchange for the permission to create a base here in the Castle," Puck said. He then paused for a moment, before pulling a dragon ring from his pocket. "I then offer you myself, Princess Valda, and all of my expertise," Puck said, before bending down onto one knee. "I do not imagine that you care for me - but you will need help, Princess Valda. We have been friends for many years, have we not? Allow me to help you rule the Castle by your side - as your husband."

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Breakfast was rapidly assembling itself, while Arya was fetching the formal robes she and Atkin would require for the ceremony. Botts' Cloak Emporium was the gold standard in her opinion - as well as almost every other person in the Castle's opinion. She had placed the order as soon as possible, hoping that Atkin's measurements would not change too drastically by the time the robes were prepared. She hated having to use Charms on clothing - there always seemed to be such a large potential for it to be not just quite right - and she expected perfection. With practice Arya knew that she would be able to master clothing alteration spells herself but she didn't see much of a point in it - she'd rather practice Magyk that boggled the mind and the senses.

"Who the bloody hell could that be?" Arya muttered, hearing a sharp knock on the door just as she was about to sit down. Tea had been poured for both of them - two scoops of sugar and a spot of cream in Arya's, with Atkin's prepared identically. The tea kettle had been attempting to figure out Atkin's favorite way to have tea, trying a different combination each day. Arya had only had to intervene when the kettle attempted to add ale to the cup. There was decently sized pile of biscuits, the heat rising and just able to be seen in the air, with two types of jam available - raspberry and heather-berry.

Arya rose from the table and headed quickly over to the door, opening it to find a messenger from the Palace. The conversation was quick and brief - with the highlight being another request from the Palace. "I'll be over within the hour," Arya told the messenger, before closing the door and returning to the breakfast table. "They want me there early to ensure the Palace is secure - of course I did mention that this would be necessary last week but they didn't listen...Atkin, you'll have the morning off. The spells will be a bit too advanced for you. You'll be needed at the Palace at 11:30 for final preparations," Arya continued, picking up her cup and taking a sip of her tea. She wished she had the time to properly enjoy it.

"And while you are very much aware you are not to go into the Pyramid Library alone, if you do find yourself in there, make sure to replace everything exactly where you found it," Arya added. She quickly finished her cup of tea before smiling slightly at her apprentice. She knew that anything she declared off limits would only increase his desire to go there. "Your dress robes will be at your desk - if you need help with them, ask Jarvis. He's got a knack for these sort of things," Arya finished, before picking up her own dress robes and heading up the staircase to her room.

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"Of course, Fleur," Nera said with a soft smile. It was true that she tended to be a bit old fashioned in her own customs and mannerisms. She grew up as the servant's daughter, before leaving for the Badlands to become an apprentice - a pupil. Her life had been filled with titles and various rules of etiquette - it was a hard habit to break, even if Fleur had insisted before not to refer to her as Witch Mother. She reached up for a moment, adjusting the hairpin she had chosen to wear that day. She only took it out for special occasions - and certainly, this qualified as one.

"I believe the warlock is in his cave," Nera quipped, referring to the dreary cell that Malekith insisted was a room. She didn't bother to hide her distaste for him in front of Fleur. While he was a member of the Port Witch Coven, he posed a threat and a danger to them. He was not someone that could be reasoned with. Some men wanted for money - others power, love, attention. Malekith wanted only for bloodshed and suffering. Those were two demands that Nera did not wish the Port Witch Coven to fulfill for him. And should she ever suspect a member of plotting to overthrow Fleur, it would be him.

It wasn't long before Nera spotted Malekith in the hallways. She disliked the idea of leaving this to chance - and she was also confident that she would be able to sneak them into the ceremony if needed. But Fleur was her Witch Mother and she would respect her requests. "Perhaps after we deal with the new Queen, we make a witch out of her sister," Nera suggested. If they were to CradleSnatch Luna - even if she was a bit old for it - then the Port Witch Coven would sit on the throne. They would only have the Wendron Witches to oppose them.

Of course, the relative silence of the house was broken as there was a large racket at the door, with someone banging their fist against it repeatedly. "YOU STINKIN' WITCHES CURSED ME BOAT! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS! DEMON SCUM THE LOT OF YOU!"

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Myrus hesitated for a moment as Lyra opened her door for him, in order to allow him entrance. He had never been in a girl's room before - well, he had been in his sister's, but that didn't count. His cheeks turned a light shade of red before he nodded slightly and entered, trying as ever to be the diplomatic prince his mother had hoped he would become. Once he was inside the room, he realized that it wasn't too terribly frightening. It seemed to have just about all the same things any room did - wardrobe, desk, bed...

He then cleared his throat and nodded. "I'm well, thanks. I mean - today is a bit hard," he admitted, his smile fading for a moment. As much as he wanted to be happy for Valda, the coronation was only happening because his mother was dead. Once Valda was crowned, the reign of Queen Meliscente would officially come to a close. It was as if his mother was about to truly die a lasting death - the death of becoming irrelevant and forgotten. He then held the book out in front of him, its title in gleaming gold letters.

"If you wouldn't mind...Could you deliver this? I have a friend - Mavis Moll - she lives on Alchemie Way in the Pye House, room 106," Myrus requested. He turned the book slightly, about to open it up to show it to Lyra, when a piece of paper fell out from in between the pages and hit the floor. Myrus bit his lip before bending down to pick it up, before looking at it in confusion. It appeared to be some sort of portrait - yet he had never seen one like it before. He knew that there were talented painters who could achieve realism - but this looked as if someone had actually captured life to its each and every detail, as if they had made an imprint of reality on paper.

"This...this is weird. Take a look," Myrus said, before passing the paper to Lyra. The scene had a bunch of weirdly dressed people, in strange and constraining garb. They were fighting on a land that appeared to be covered in hardened tar, with imposing structures on either side of them and odd contraptions made of metal. In the upper righthand corner, there is the barest hint of a word - perhaps a scribe could enhance the photograph. "Does that look like the Lagoon to you, maybe?" Myrus asked. He had never heard of any land that looked like that and he didn't understand why it would be in an Alchemie text from the Land of Long Nights either.

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Fleur let out a pleasurable breath. CradleSnatch Luna? What a marvelous idea! "This is why I adore you Nera, your thoughts align well with mine. First, we enter the party, which can be no small task. Once inside, we can determine how to proceed. But do keep thinking wicked things, dear. It makes me so happy." In an instant, she was up, ready to head down to greet the rest of her coven. Some would need to be left behind to protect their home. Some had other things they needed to do. Really, she only desired Nera and Malekith to accompany her to the Coronation and she had to find the man to brief him.

This was before the pounding on her door occurred. Really now, how rude! His yelling only clued her in more as to what he was upset about. Fleur merely nodded. "It seems we have a guest and a good hostess, as you well know, must always be prepared. Shall we go see what they want?" Fleur all but glided down the stairs and to the front door. She opened it to see the person who so loudly knocked. She looked them up and down, unimpressed. But, she smiled. A warm, welcoming smile. "Hello, friend. A good morning to you as well. Can I ask what troubles you so? You are making an awful lot of noise for so early in the day, and my family desires great amounts of beauty sleep. Do you wish to come in to discuss things? Perhaps over some tea?" Fleur's words were coated in sugar, but they were anything but sweet.

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Cuyler walked through the South Gate happily, acknowledging the guards and made jokes with a couple he knew as he made the pass several times. He moved his belongings into the Hefring before he took his final bag back to an empty booth. Thia tagged along beside him until he started to set up and she bolted off to greet people she knew and to harass those she didn’t.
Cuyler smiled to himself as he set up his booth, organizing things by category and price. Of course Cuyler would be selling items of his own unique creation, including cutting boards with landscape scenes from the Land of Lost Nights, unique figurines from tales told in his hometown as well as here and several figures that were modeled after Thia in her wolf form; she was his biggest inspiration. His usual bigger items were left behind to ensure there was enough room on the boat for his personal belongings.
Next to his unique items, he had jewelry made from precious stones and metals only found in the Land of Lost Nights. These he had traded his own services for or simply bought himself. The necklaces were Cuyler’s personal favourite. The artistry put in with the intricate designs and gems were sure to catch anyone’s attention and the maker’s creativity wasn’t stopped there. He had found several pieces that were designed in the like of animals. A few even reminded him of Thia. The rings as well deserved their own boasting as they were basically weapons themselves.
As Cuyler continued to set up he let his senses take over. This was one of the things his father first taught him; observation. You had to hear as much as you saw and feel more, than what you heard. It wasn’t always about having the best items or haggling for the best prices that got you the sale, it was relating with the buyers with a certain degree of empathy. By doing this Cuyler noted a unique couple talking and their words drifted to him through the aid of the crowd and wind.
A sparkle to his left caught his eye momentarily and he turned his head to look at the Wizard Tower. The sun danced across the golden pyramid before flashing down the rest of the building and caused a unique glow that only seemed to happen at that particular building. Cuyler grinned and turned his attention back to the couple.
He moved to the far right end of his table before speaking. ”Gentlemen! I couldn’t help but overhear your troubles,” Cuyler paused. Everyone well knew it was the Northern Traders’ job to overhear everything. If there was a fact you wanted known your best chance was to ask a Northern Trader. ”I’m sure we can find something suitable for an ExtraOrdinary wizard here. Welcome back to The Castle Rowland,” Cuyler added, with a respectful bow of his head to the ex-ExtraOrdinary wizard. There was truth in what the old man’s companion said; Blaise Rowland’s presence, would be enough to satisfy Arya.

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As Luna looked towards the messenger rat as it got up on it's hind legs, asking if it was actually her she gave a slight nod. "This is Princess Luna Marcia Mathilda Meredith of the Castle." Luna answered the messenger with her full name, she leaned forward as she started to listen to it's message. She raised an eyebrow as she looked at the rat, whoever this Golds was, he or she or they knew something of her mother's death. A part of her thought that she had died of natural causes from her incurable illness, but another part of her also thought that it was something more sinister.

She also started to wonder if this was also a trap as well coming alone was less than ideal to her, and why her of all people this Golds could easily have contacted Myrus, or Valda. "Tell this Golds, I shall meet with him at Sally Mullin's at dusk. He shall also come alone as well." Luna said eyeing the messenger rat, Luna didn't really want to miss any of the coronation, but she would have to. Then Luna's thoughts went directly towards her delegation, she'd have to have someone tend to their needs at dusk. Luna stood up as she started to adjust her dress, leaning down Luna lifted up the messenger rat setting it back down onto the ground. "You may return the message to Golds now."

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Funnily enough, Atkin was more familiar with ale than he was with tea. Alcohol was relatively easy to obtain in the Ramblings, even for a kid who was sharp witted enough; tea was a luxury enjoyed by people who had the money to worry about things as trivial as keeping up appearances. Since starting his apprenticeship with Arya, he had come to the conclusion that he was ambivalent about the beverage. It was fine, and that poor kettle was trying its hardest to find something that he liked, but every time he found himself feeling more or less the same about the cup. At this point it might have given up and just decided to just copy Arya's preferred cup.

Speaking of his teacher, his eyes couldn't help but follow her as she left the kitchen and remained fixated during her whole conversation. She was kind of like having an exotic predator in the same house as you. On one hand captivating, beautiful, and graceful in a way that they didn't seem to notice, but on the other hand also able to bite your head off with ease if you angered it. Although in the case of Arya it (probably) wouldn't be a literal decapitation, but he didn't doubt that she possessed such powers. So when she turned her attention back his way, he made sure to divert his gaze over to his food. The last thing he wanted was to give the impression that he was staring at her (which he totally was).

Biscuit in his mouth, Atkin only nodded in acquiescence to Arya's instructions. Free morning, stay out of the library, be at the palace in dress by 11:30. His first instinct was to go to the Library and see why she supposedly didn't want him there, but he stopped himself. It was obvious that she wanted him to go there, and knowing that made him not want to go there, at least not immediately. No, he decided it would be more fun to get out of the tower. He needed to go out and stretch him legs for once. Pyramid Library could wait until a later point in time when she really didn't want him in there unsupervised.

Now alone, the Magician's Apprentice headed to his room, gathered his things and changed out of his brilliant green robe into the much drabber, far shabbier street clothes he was accustomed to wearing. He didn't want to attract a lot of unnecessary attention by looking like some lost wizard who didn't know his way around the Castle and stumbled down the wrong street. Before he left, he approached his dress robes and looked over them. He didn't want to have to come back and fetch them, but he couldn't carry them around as they were. At best people would think he just filched them from their rightful owner.

Then the idea came to him, just shrink them down and keep them in his pockets, and when he needed to make himself presentable, he could just undo the spell. He didn't have his teacher's apprehension on using magyk on clothes, so he didn't see anything wrong with this course of action. Atkin rifled through the various papers and pages around the floor until he found what he'd been looking for, the Charm for a Shrinking Spell. He still hadn't gotten good enough at this Magyk stuff that he was able to do these types of things off the top of his head, but with the Charm in hand he was confident he'd be able to pull off the spell with ease.

He was half right, the first time around, he only managed to get it down to half size, which while possibly useful in another circumstance, wasn't what he was looking for. So he went for it again, this time perfectly bringing it down to the size of a handkerchief. Clothes now safely stashed away, he was ready to roll. He stepped onto the spiral staircase and got all the way down without anyone glancing his way, however, when he set foot on the first floor he was greeted personally by the floor with:



Sodding hell. Floor aside, nobody seemed to be making any moves to stop him, so Atkin just took it in stride and left the Tower. So there he was, given the entire Castle to explore, as long as he was able to make it to the palace within the next couple of hours. He couldn't afford to dally long, so he picked a direction and started moving that way, ending up in the trader market before he knew it. Atkin didn't really have money on him, but maybe he'd be able to find something exciting while he was here. It was coronation day, he wouldn't be surprised if all the merchants were bringing their A-game.

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As she walked in, she saw Puck standing there, waiting for her. He started speaking, and she just listened to his requests. The first one being the reinstatement of the Young Army. That one would be a difficult decision, as many people tended to not like the group. However, she couldn't help but agree on a few things, namely that many people in the Palace didn't trust her, and some even believed that she had something to do with her mother's death. Not many people trusted her at all, and the whole coronation thing was causing even more problems.

The second request, or more of proposal, was not something she wanted to deal with. It did have some merits, like she wouldn't have to sit around and rule everyone. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to do the job, however, it didn't seem right to her. This man had known her since she was little, and it was a little creepy to think of that.

"I hear your, uh, requests, and I must ask for some time to think about them. Come see me again, after the coronation, I should have an answer for you by then," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She wasn't too sure how she would respond, but asking to wait until after the coronation would give her some time to think about her answer. There wasn't much she could do at the moment, she didn't feel too comfortable making a decision so quickly, especially since she still wasn't entirely positive with what she was doing.

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Memorizing the map, Rhys made his way to the outside before stowing it away into his inner pocket. He would need to look it over more later. However, he could do with a bit of shopping, a round of gossip and a stiff ale to wash all of this down. The place for all three? The trader's market. It would serve his purpose and the walk would give him time to think. Especially as the Queen's room was concealed. Though he knew the general location. That was something the Port Coven Witch Mother would pay well for. Perhaps they could make a trade. The ExtraOrdinary Wizards- past, present, future- for that way into that room. His green eyes were bright with glee. That was a tempting thought!

Rhys Asher was not a unkind person, he was self serving. Kindness had been stamped out of him just like his hopes and dreams. Erik Halaway, his mentor when he was a Ordinary Wizard Apprentice had seen to that. But that wouldn't matter, he'd collect the debt that Arya Rincewind owed him for taking his place. He supposed it was unfair to hate the girl, it wasn't her fault she had been chosen and taken as ExtraOrdinary Wizard Apprentice, but someone had to pay for the sins of the father. Or in this case, the mentor. If he could get his hands on the old Blaise Rowland... Rhys gave a pleasant smile to a group of woman as they giggled thinking they had caused it. He would make the old windbag, along with that clever little Arya, watch as he slowly destroyed the new ExtraOrdinary Wizard's Apprentice. Then he'd have to flip a coin. Enjoy the girl? Or toss the old man to his death. A very slow death while the girl watched? He'd save the girl for last. Wring the secrets out of her along with the position. Then he would have the power and spells. The entire city captive. The daydream was a beautiful thought, but he knew it wasn't going to go that way. No... First. He needed to listen to the gossip and find a way to slip into the castle. There would be plenty of people, and the guards were rust buckets with brains anyways.

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As the sun rose up in the sky, it seemed to breathe life into the Port Witch Coven House. Malekith could detect the stirrings of people as he stalked through the hallways, and as he rounded the corner, a couple of witches came into view. He inclined his head slightly in a simple greeting before throwing them a wink over his shoulder as he passed by them. To his mundane sastification, the action elicited a blush from the younger of the two. There were certainly perks to warlocks being a rarity. It meant being surrounded by a multitude of pretty witches, which of course appealed to him as much as the next guy. Unfortunately, they did not stay pretty for long. Stress and age did a number on their looks, making them more ghastly in appearance over time. As far as he was concerned, they could go burn at the stake at that point in time.

Just then, the sound of pounding at the front door, followed by the angry words of some deranged soul, reverberated through the halls, causing him to stop short in his tracks. He turned wordlessly on his heels and walked through the house to the front door, getting there slightly after Fleur did. He came up behind her as she addressed the individual whom was rudely disrupting their morning. He braced one muscular leather clad arm against the door frame and nonchalantly rested the other hand on Fleur's shoulder. He threw a knowing smirk in her direction before eyeing the intruding stranger with his dark blue and black flecked eyes. Needless to say, he was thoroughly unimpressed by what he saw.

"Yes, do come in for tea. We can scrounge you up a fresh brew," he reaffirmed Fleur's last statement whilst giving the person a disarming smile. Yes, a fresh brew with a dash of poison in it.

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Lyra turned on her heels to face Myrus once more when he had entered her room. Her smile soon faded as a note of sadness seeped into the young prince's voice as he replied to her. Lips thinning, she nodded her head in sullen understanding. It couldn't be easy losing your mother at such a young age and let alone in such tragic circumstances. Today's coronation marked a new era, but it wasn't lost on her that it also marked the all too soon passing of an old one. The weight of the loss was still so raw in the hearts of many, most certainly to Myrus and his siblings who had lost the most. Lyra's heart went out to him, but she was at a loss for any words that could possibly ease his pain. Perhaps her calming, reassuring, and ever loyal presence during these hard times would be the better testament.

She gave him a small reassuring smile, before looking down at the book that Myrus now held out in his outstretched hands. Her eyes took in the cover, and she instantly recognized that the title was written in the Old Tongue of her people. "Organic Synthesis," she translated the text out loud, glancing up at Myrus as she did so before looking back down at the book. Her eyes took in the fine cover for a moment longer before finally returning her attention to Myrus. Her brow quirked upward the slightest bit as he explained to her what he wanted her to do with the book. Just a friend, eh? she thought. The corner of her lips pulled up slightly, but she otherwise kept her mouth shut. She didn't wish to make him anymore uncomfortable than he already was by inquiring about this friend. "Certainly. I'll deliever it to her," Lyra replied, nodding her head in agreement.

Her brows then furrowed as a small slip of paper fell out of the book and fluttered down to their feet as Myrus made to open the book. She stepped back slightly as he bent to pick up the paper and quirked a brow in question as he straigthened back up. She glanced up at him in time to see a look of confusion overcome his features, before he gestured for her to take a look. She gingerly took the piece of paper from him. Her brows furrowed deeper as she looked down at the strange imagery. "It's certainly strange. It's not like any land I've ever seen in my travels," she replied, looking back up at him.

Myrus nodded, his eyes flickering between Lyra, the book, and the image. "I've never seen a portrait so small and so lifelike...Maybe it's some form of Magyk?" Myrus suggested. He couldn't imagine someone with paint and brush spending so long on such an odd scene and not making a single mistake. His brows then furrowed as he noticed what looked like a smudged word. The book was a rather ancient one to be written in the Old Tongue - maybe this image was just as ancient? Yet that seemed almost like a contradiction to him - why should ancient images be more refined and sophisticated than ones they were capable of producing in the current day?

"Hmmm, maybe. Perhaps that would explain the realism of it. It's like one took what they were seeing and casted it straight to this paper," Lyra replied. "The question is what land looks like this, and if it's not a depiction of a known land, then what inspired it." Her eyes squinted slightly as she inspected the indiscernible word in the upper right-hand corner. Strange indeed.

"You can keep the image, if you'd like," Myrus then said. "It's from your homeland - I know that much at least. Maybe a scribe or a wizard could tell us more..."

"Well, I certainly cannot deny the opportunity to solve a mystery in my spare time," Lyra remarked, smiling up at Myrus. "Thank you." She then glanced around her room for a spot to put it for safekeeping. Seeing as it was more or less an artifact, she did not want to simply carry it around in her satchel and risk damaging it. She then promptly walked the short distance across her room, deciding to put the piece of paper inside her jewelry box. Once it was safely inside she then walked over to her bed, which was still currently littered with weapons.

"So, deliver the book to Room 106 in the Pye House on Alchemie Way to one Mavis Moll, correct?" she reiterated. As she spoke she picked up one of the dagger from off of her bed and then grabbed a piece of paper. She tested the sharpness of the blade by seeing how easily it cut through the paper. She gave an imperceptible nod of her head when it proved satisfactory. If push came to shove and she had to shove her dagger into someone, she didn't want it to be a wasted effort. She glanced over at Myrus before sheathing the dagger to her thigh just inside the slit of her dress.

"Yes - Mavis Moll," Myrus confirmed. Had he not known Lyra, he would have been a bit thrown off by her use of a knife - perhaps even insist that Mavis wasn't to be harmed and this wasn't some assassination code. But Lyra was a bit odd as servants went - and Myrus didn't mind that in the slightest. It was what made her special. "And, um...If she says anything...tell me what she says, yeah?" Myrus then added, a bit of a blush to his cheeks. "I just want to make sure she likes it and if there's anything wrong with it, I'll have the restoration scribe have another crack at it."

Lyra reached for a knife this time and repeated the same process she had done with the dagger. She typically preferred to carry at least two weapons on her at any given time. That way if someone managed to disarm her, she would always have a backup. After all, safety first. She glanced back over at Myrus after tossing the now pieces of paper aside. Her perceptive gaze took in his facial features, noting the hint of a blush as he spoke. Oh yeah, she's *just* a friend.

Lyra looked away from him just as the corners of her lips once more curled upwards in seeming amusement. "Mhm," she murmured simply as she sheathed the knife in her hands. She then bent down to place it in her left boot. Once she straightened back up and turned to face him, her facial expression was more composed than it had been mere moments before. "I will take it to her post haste and then report back to you, Prince Myrus," she exclaimed before holding out her hands to take the book from him.

"Thank you, Lyra," Myrus said, a bit of relief in his voice. He handed the book over to her carefully, a bit worried that he might drop it and scuff up the cover. The blush spread a bit more as it suddenly hit him - did Lyra think he liked Mavis? "She's just a friend," Myrus added quickly. "Yes we did date for a while - she broke things off but it was really mutual, just two different people...She's like my best friend, you see? We've been friends since we were small - you'd love her, she's brilliant really. I once saw her turn a toad into gold...Well, it was a dead toad...and it was only a bit of a shimmer...but..." his voice trailed off. "I'll shut up now."

"Any time," Lyra replied earnestly. She took the book from him just as carefully as he had handed it over. She made sure to keep a tight secure grip on it from thereon. The last thing she wanted to do was drop it before it even made it to Mavis. Just then, as she looked up at Myrus, she witnessed as a delayed realization struck the young prince. Her eyes widened slightly, and she bit her lip to keep back the smile as he began babbling incessantly in a vain attempt to cover his tracks. "Uh huh," she managed to reply, her voice wavering slightly. "Just a friend."

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The walk through the Forest with her sisters had been a pleasant one. Their passage disturbed the old and tired ground, churning up smells of dank earth and healthy duff; it was the smell of home and memories. There had been chatter amongst them, though the Witch Mother seemed a tad somber. Bell had also kept her eyes peeled for pretty things. She found snowdrops growing in those ancient woodlands, and, next to a lichen-coated log, a patch of thimbleweed. The flowers had been worked into her hair alongside the bluebells. By the time they arrived at the Castle she wore a near-garland of white and blue. Her bare feet were damp, earning a spattering of mud and grass-stains, and now dust from the road clung to them.

Approaching the gate, Bell stuck close to Jadis, standing straighter, turning her chin up, and attempting to flatten out her dress skirts. She fought, and failed, to contain her smile that ended up twitching and shifting across her face as she wrestled with it. She raised a hand and wiggled the tips of her fingers in a small wave at the guards as she passed, her lips taught.

Once inside, she slouched, her mouth almost exploding into a wide grin.

“What now, dear Witch Mother?” Bell asked, eyes sweeping over everything. The Castle still impressed and intimidated her; she was not sure if it was right for buildings to tower taller than trees. The sky seemed so open above them. The smell was peculiar too; a mixing pot of all the people and their things, their animals, their trades. The perfume of nature was a bare whisper here. “Have you any plans?”

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@jdh97: Jadis' eyes sparkled, reminiscent of the stars in the sky at night. They were a brilliant hue of blue, void of any black that would be associated with those who practiced the Darke. While those in the Castle saw the Wendron Witches as monsters, they only used Lyte Magyk. Any harm that they caused to members of the Castle was done through purely non-Magykal means. "Oh, I have many plans, Little-Bell...In fact, I believe that Valda will have received my first gift to her, in honor of this special moment," Jadis said. She could be so cryptic at times but with the feelings of joy and triumph washing over her, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to tell Bell what she had set in motion.

"You remember my brother, don't you? The dear little imp?" Jadis prefaced. They were walking down Maker's Mile and had just turned, now heading west. It wouldn't be long until they arrived at the Palace - long until they would be able to see dear Valda and offer her congratulations. "It took some persuasion, but I convinced him to offer his hand in marriage to sweet Valda. He would be a great help to her - and then she would be my sister in Magyk and in blood."

@LadyRunic: Rhys encounters no problems as he makes his way to the Traders Market. On the way, an idea will form in his mind - if he wishes to sneak into the Palace, who can come and go as they please without question? Servants and members of important delegations. He could claim to be the latter and they would be hard pressed to question him, with so many guests to the Palace. But most importantly, he technically does have an invitation to the coronation. The entire Castle had been invited to go attend the ceremony on the Palace lawn. However, for one reason or another, Rhys doesn't notice Blaise Rowland and Jarvis Yule at all. Even if he were to look in their direction, they just seemed to blend into the crowd.

@KazAlkemi: Rowland chuckled slightly, turning to look at his companion for a moment. "Perhaps I have not been away long enough - I'm still being recognized," Rowland lamented - yet there was a twinkle in his emerald eyes. He had been the ExtraOrdinary Wizard of the Castle for decades - it would take more than a year or two abroad to cause people to forget him. And of course, he stood out slightly in a crowd. He had a certain Magykal aura to him, with his eyes glimmering with secrets and his beard so long that he could have tucked it into his belt.

Yule shook his head slightly at his old mentor's antics. "Athelyna would have liked that," Yule said. Rowland had had four apprentices in total. For the last leg of his travels before returning to the Castle, he had visited his second apprentice, Athelyna, at her home in the Lagoon. Rowland nodded in agreement before turning to Cuyler with a playful smile. "So tell me, dear boy, how do you know Miss Rincewind? Tell me all about it - and perhaps I can survey your wares as we talk?"

@Nallore: The message rat nodded, before squeaking out, "of course, your highness! The bill will be sent to the Palace within one business week," before scurrying off. Even though they were royalty, royals only could use the message rat service without charge in cases of emergencies. Otherwise, they were treated like just everyone else. But as much as Luna may want to reflect on who Golds could be, it's about time for her to go meet the delegation from the Eastern SnowPlains. They'll be in the westernmost wing of the Palace - their Crown Princess and Grand Magician, the equivalent of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, comprised the delegation chiefly. There were the usual associates servants and advisors present as well.

@BlueSky44: Puck paused for a moment, looking at Valda incredulously. Had he not just told her the stakes? The people of the Castle did not trust her - there was a gigantic target on her back and she was defenseless. She'd be lucky to make it to the end of the day without his protection. And as for the second matter, what did she knew of ruling? She was nothing more than a child pretending to be a princess - and in a few hours, she'd be pretending to be a queen. As far as Puck was concerned, she needed him to step in and get things in the Castle sorted.

"Respectfully, your majesty, we do not have the luxury of time," Puck clarified. "Do you think the Port Witch Coven will allow you to take the throne? They may be smaller in number than yours but they are ruthless and will not hesitate to kill you where you stand. Your impending coronation has made them desperate." He then took a step forward, looking up into Valda's eyes. "It is rare for a ruler to marry for love - but you, if you accept my proposal, would marry for protection. I know the ways of politics and hatred. We could live as brother and sister, married only as a formality. You would be free to chase your dreams, to live each moment to your heart's content, not weighed down with the rules and obligations of a kingdom...Yet I am afraid, your highness, that without protection you will not live to see another sunrise."

@Dragoknighte: Just as Atkin started to set down Wizard Way, making his way towards the Traders Market, a small disaster had been set into motion. Inside Larry's Dead Languages - a shop that attempts to rival the Manuscriptorium, offering translations of ancient tongues such as Italian and Russian - there was a shrill shriek. A second later, the clerk and a handful of customers came running out of the shop and flooding into the street, muttering unintelligible nonsense about a furry creature that had taken up residence in the shop. But one of the customer's eyes latched onto Atkin - and unfortunately for Atkin, that customer just happened to be friends with an apprentice that lived in the dormitories of Wizard Tower. He had seen Atkin coming and going with the ExtraOrdinary Wizard before.

"Apprentice!" the person called out, rushing up to Atkin and practically latching onto him. "There's a monstrous beast in the shop - you must get rid of it!" they urged him. And before Atkin could protest or say much otherwise, he found himself practically shoved onto the front steps of the shop, with a small crowd of people looking at him expectedly.

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Arya shut the door of her room and then snapped her fingers. Instantly, her normal day-to-day robes had been replaced with the dress robes she had selected for this occasion. She kept the Akhu Amulet of Hotep-Ra securely fastened around her neck. She wouldn't dare leave Wizard Tower without it - no ExtraOrdinary Wizard ever did. Only in times of great tragedy and sacrifice would the Akhu Amulet of Hotep-Ra be missing from the ExtraOrdinary Wizard's neck. She then allowed her hair to lie flat, braiding back two small sections from the front, before placing on a thin silver headband, with Magykal symbols inscribed on it. As far as shoes went, she had chosen something a bit old fashioned - pointed heels made from purple python skin.

She then grabbed her things and headed out of her room and down the stairs, opening the door and then stepping onto the spiral staircase. "Down. Double speed," Arya instructed, and the staircase began to rotate rapidly. As she stepped off of the staircase, a spectral form caught her attention. It was rare that the ghost of an ExtraOrdinary Wizard would choose to Appear to her. Etiquette generally said that they shouldn't - otherwise, they might be tempted to micromanage their successor.

"Louanna Moon, it's been some time," Arya greeted politely. "But I really must be off. I have to prepare for the coronation."

Louanna looked at Arya with an expression that could only be described as pity. "Don't get too attached to your apprentice - that's all I've come to say," the ghost warned. She was perched on the staircase, floating a few feet off of the ground. Yet her words caused Arya's expression to harden - she disliked it when ghosts were cryptic, even more when the words sounded more like threats.

"What do you think is going to happen to him?" Arya asked cautiously. Sometimes ghosts didn't know how to tell the current world apart from the one they remembered. Louanna's warning could have easily been meant for an ExtraOrdinary Wizard that lived centuries ago.

"The Queste."

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Nera chuckled slightly, her laughter having a slight melodic quality to it. Yet the melody itself was not sweet - it was one in minor. "They aren't wicked thoughts at all - we would be doing Princess Luna a service. Just as she so tragically lost her mother - and soon her sister, too - she will gain a Witch Mother," Nera said. Of course, the Port Witch Coven was smaller than the Wendron Witches - but the Wendron's restrained themselves to practice only the Lyte. They limited their Magyk, hampering their creativity and spirit. The Wendron Witches were doomed to fail without balance.

She nodded and followed Fleur to the staircase, remaining at the top of the stairs. They had a rather narrow landing and more than two people couldn't fit there properly at a time. She rolled her eyes slightly upon recognizing their guest - his name was Sigmund, but most referred to him as Old Man Sig. He was nearly as fat as he was tall, giving his body a grotesque circular shape. His veins bulged slightly and he was almost covered from head to toe in what seemed to be soot. He was a paranoid old drug that spent most of his time looting other people's waste.

"In order to curse your boat, you must first have a boat," Nera said pointedly.

Sig's beady eyes narrowed as he raised his fist towards the witches, extending a particular finger towards the three of them. "You bloody witches know what you did, the lot of you! Ain't no tea is going to make me forgets the wrongs you did! If me boat ain't fixed by the end of the night, you're all DEAD!" Sig screamed, before slamming his fist against the door. His fist swung in at just the wrong angle, however, causing him to hit a rather sensitive nerve and scream slightly in pain.

"FUCK!" Sig groaned. "You see that? Huh? You see! They cursed me! Whores the lot of them! And then there's the man-woman!" Sig sneered, motioning with his head towards Malekith.

"Charming as ever, Sig," Nera muttered curtly.

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"Right, just a friend," Myrus repeated, before hesitating for a moment. "Actually, erm, let's say I hypothetically liked a girl...And I wanted to get her attention...What would you...if you were the girl...want me to do?" Myrus asked, his cheeks crimson enough to match his robes. He didn't have a parent to ask for advice on women anymore and he certainly wasn't going to ask Luna about it. He could just see it - Luna running down Alchemie Way and telling Mavis all about how he was begging to get her back or something silly like that. Girls could be weird at times - but Lyra didn't strike him as giggly and silly as some of them could be.

"And for context, in this situation, the girl and I used to date," Myrus explained, turning his gaze to look at the ground. "But she may have called me a... coddled man child...or something along those lines..." He bit his lip and played with a loose strand on his cloak. He hadn't quite gotten over Mavis. She had been the one to end things after that awful fight they had gotten into, and while they had managed to repair their friendship, Myrus didn't want to be just friends with Mavis. He then looked up at Lyra sheepishly, wondering what advice she'd give him. Hopefully it wasn't to take a letter opener and cut Mavis open - but with all of the knives Lyra kept grabbing, he wouldn't have been too surprised if she said something along those lines.

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Apprentice? Atkin looked around for anyone the customer could have been talking about. There didn't seem to be any apprentices walking around the area. Wait, why was every walking towards him? Hey, hey back off, hands off! Wait, furry beast? What does he think he can do? And suddenly he was thrust in front of the front door of the storefront, with everyone staring at him expectantly.

Originally he was going to pass and let somebody who was more qualified handle this whole situation, but since he was here now, he had to do something. He supposed that if he ever ended up becoming the ExtraOrdinary Wizard people would be expecting him to drop everything and do all kinds of things for no reason, so he might as well get used to it now. Or something. Atkin took a deep breath and opened up the door, expecting the worst.

However, what he found was a store that looked mostly fine. The whole place smelled like musty books, but that was to be expected. The morning light filtered through clearly, warming the place up to a cozy temperature without becoming a sauna. The place was a bit disheveled with books lying open here and there, with pages ripped out and tossed onto the floor. Atkin glanced over at one of the opened books and was greeted with a page full of gibberish. Well mostly gibberish. There was a single word that he could pick out on there. 祝贺. Congratulations. He'd forgotten where he learned that particular bit of information, but glancing across the various pages gave him more or less the same feeling. He could read a word every now and then, but for the most part none of it made any sense.

Most curiously, on the other side of the store, behind the counter there was a frightful thumping and wheezing noise. Doing his best to avoid stepping on the pages as possible, Atkin walked over to the counter and peeked over the top towards the source of the noise behind. What was there was a person. Kind of. They were covered from head to toe in long fur, like one might see on a well groomed shepherding dog and on their neck was a fancy bow tie. It just laid there, flailing desperately.

"Oi," he called out perhaps too casually for the situation, "what're you doing there?" When he spoke, the thing froze for just an instant, the way a rat would when it smelled a cat. When the thing realized from where the voice was come it sprang up to its feet and scrabbled behind the door that lead to the back of the store.

Atkin scratched his head, unsure of what to make of the whole situation. Whatever that thing was was clearly terrified at any human, but didn't seem like it was dangerous at all. Let alone enough to make everyone in the store run screaming. Then again, noble types didn't seem like they ran into much that was actually jealous to where they'd have to confront them directly. But if he was going to make any progress, he'd have to do his best to make sure not to frighten the thing more. He stepped with light feet, but when he tried to open the door:



Seriously? First the floor, and now the door's so neglected that the hinge decides to personally greet everyone that opens it. It was so loud, the hairy oaf knocked over a bookshelf that almost fell on top of his head. Atkin jumped back himself at the sudden loud crash, but after a moment poked his head in again and saw that settling dust and scattered tomes aside, there wasn't much different in there from out in the main store.

So far both attempts to interact with the thing had been horrendous failures, but Atkin wasn't the type to just go and give up so easily. If he recalled correctly, when you wanted to approach an animal you had to work slowly, making no sudden movements. So that's what he tried to do. Being a city rat however, he wasn't really good at acting in a manner non-threatening to animals.

Suddenly it opened its mouth wide, wider than he'd seen any creature open its maws. It was like a great serpent yawning, but rather than simply opening and shutting its mouth, it stayed open and from the depths of its bowels sprang a stream of dress robes that his the apprentice square in the chest, knocking him over. Off in the back of his head, he recalled something that happened a few days prior:

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"Finally, they've arrived," Arya said, carrying a couple of boxes into the 20^th floor of the Wizard Tower. She placed them on the table and smoothed out her robes. She turned to face Atkin, who at the time was practicing writing out Charms; there must have been three dozen of them lying around the floor in various states of completion. Many of them were correct, but far more were incorrect in some manner: he accidentally messed up the order of the words, or his hand wrote out an A when he had wanted an E. In any case he found it easier to just start again rather than try to correct his mistakes.

"Your dress robes for the coronation have come in. It's a good thing too. The original store I was trying to purchase your robe from was visited by a thief." Arya handed one of the boxes to him with pursed lips. Slowly, her frown shifted into a smile as she really looked at him. "You're getting better at making Charms, although you're still away from being able to properly make one that would be Magykal. Keep up the work and you'll get there in no time. By the way Atkin, you're looking much more handsome recently. I wouldn't be surprised if you became a strapping young man in a few years."

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At least that was pretty sure how that had happened.
His memory might have fudged some things.

That said, the force of the Dress clothes stream was enough to knock him a couple steps backwards but didn't deal any damage to anything but the apprentice's sense of patience. That was it. He tried doing things the gentle way. Now he did things the street way. Atkin took a step back and shifted his weight to his rear, building up pressure before diving forward. He rammed into the thing shoulder first and knocked it, along with himself onto the ground. A brief scramble later and he had the thing in Byron's favorite hold, the head lock. Atkin had the willpower to avoid adding the requisite noogie, but nevertheless, it was stuck in his submission hold.

"Stop! Stop! Have mercy on me, powerful one!" it squeaked, finally speaking up. Well that was unexpected, but the wizard apprentice didn't let it go free just yet. Who knew what trick it might try to pull if he just did as it asked. No, he'd keep it here until he was more sure that it wouldn't cause more trouble.

"Have you calmed down yet? Made quite a mess of the store, you did. Don't wanna have to wrangle you again because you saw a shadow and wet yourself. Rude yes, but more or less the truth to the matter. He'd need to feel the wee beastie relax along with its words, but if they could have any kind of conversation, it'd be a start.