-

Warmth filled the meeting chamber, it had been so long unused, but the Lord Marshal deemed the current discussion weighty enough that all the Commanders of the Order must be gathered. The meeting hall that had up until recently been a dusty untouched room for the past several years due to the Lord Marsha’s desire to remain undisturbed due to his illness, had been meticulously cleaned, and the metals polished, causing the Council’s room to look as if it had never languished in untouched vacancy.

The Wardens were the first to arrive taking their respective seats at the table, each of them sitting so that their backs were to the direction they were the commander of. After the Wardens' they were followed by The Most Exalted, The Grand Wizard, The Lord Commoner, and The Knight of Flowers, taking seats between the Wardens. Murmuring could be heard around the table as they discussed among each other what this might be about, some thought they might be heading north finally to civilize the barbaric clans, others thought they might be marching to war on behalf of Shenra into the Emerald empire, no one knew for sure though. Soon enough Markus had arrived, looking as gruff as ever, and standing off to the side.

After half an hour the door finally opened once more, and entered The Lord Marshal, and The Under Marshal, Richard would take a seat at the head of the table with Katalina standing next to him as the Lord took in every who was at the table. “We are all here. Thanks be to the Prophetess.” Richard’s hand would come up as he gave a few coughs, and held a cloth to his lips, he noticed the red stains there, and folded the handkerchief up and put it away.

Each of the members had dressed nobly for the meeting, donning silk doublets and trousers for the men, and the women had come dressed in dresses, and other finery, with magnificent embroidery to really give that sense of nobility.

Taking a deep, but gravelly breath the Lord Marshal brought a hand to his chin and stroked his hand across his features. “I have called all of you here today for one reason, to discuss our neighbors to the South, to long have we turned a blind eye to their barbarism, slavery, and war mongering. Too long has their dishonor and injustice plagued our borders. Well I say no more, my time on this world is short, and I will be damned if I will leave this world without giving justice to this nation of despots. I propose we deliver demands for their surrender, and if they choose not to accept those demands then we will march forces into their lands, take their cities, and break the shackles of those they oppress ourselves!”

Those gathered around the table stared at the Lord Marshal for a moment, stunned at his suggestion of the invasion of Matathran, then slowly they looked to each other, and all nodded. “Agreed” “Of course my Lord.” “Matathran is a pit of abominable heresy” all these answers and more were given as the Lord Marshal stood up and held out a letter. “I have already drafted terms of surrender for Matathran, I will have delivered it directly to our emissary in their Capital, should they refuse our offer, we will invade, should they not reply within seven days… We will invade.” Moving across the room Richard stopped at their War table. “Marie, Markus, and Peter, you have all been undergoing drills on my command. Peter I want you to take your forces immediately and move them to the Southern fort, and join up with Marie, Peter you will continue to command The Hawks Talon, and prep your forces there for movement. All of you will begin gathering provisions for the forces to move through the desert. I will send word to Captain Howard, and Captain Dubois to gather a small force each and gather more supplies in the meantime, if it becomes necessary to transport it to Matathran.”

“Dismissed.” The entire council got up, and moved out of the room, except for the Lord Marshal, and the Under Marshal. Richard walked towards a desk with a series of slots in it and lifted up several letters and began to set them into the different slots where they subsequently disappeared.

Richard turned towards “Katalina, the doctor says I am getting worse, and it’s only a matter of months before my end has come. I want you to continue our work, defeat Matathran, end its wicked rule.”

---

The provided quarters had been adequate for Lady Lemaire, but she longed for home. When her letter box began to give a faint glow a jolt of excitement ran through the Emissary for Matathran. “Am I going home? Being called back?” She moved quickly across the room and opened it, and frowned as it was designated to go the Imperial hierarchy. A sigh escaped her lips, and she fanned herself for a moment with the letter. “Fine.” The Lady muttered before pulling a gown on, it was rather flattering showing just the right amount of cleavage and accenting her curves in a way not over the top. The blue and green silk shimmered whenever light came across it. Yellow slippers were placed upon her feet, and her hair was neatly braided and wrapped into a bun.

Once ready Jaqueline left her room, followed closely by two men, each wearing chain mail and a tabard to show they were part of the Order of the Lady’s lament, with a sword on their hips as their protect should any harm try to befall the lady. Lady Lemaire went straight to the Imperial Courier, knowing that if the letter had been sent by magic it was of the utmost importance it reaches the eyes of whoever was to read it immediately. She would leave the letter there, and then head back to her quarters, everything in this place was a hodge podge of hurry up and wait, and not even the leaders of another country were expedited, unless it was something as simple as reading a letter it seemed. Once in her quarters she undid all that she had done to pretty herself simply to walk to the Courier, and moved to her balcony and stared out towards the North, where her home was, her white shift fluttering in the wind.

---

The refugee town was coming along well, Albert Churchill overseeing it as people fleeing from the Northeast continued to come across the border searching for a place of safety, and this was that place. Knights and soldiers having removed their armor and weapons now used hammers and saws as they built the makeshift town for the refugees to live in, this would be their new home, a safe place, all were welcome, and the clergy were insuring that all were taken care of and administered to.

---

The letter box glowed, and Lady Margot turned and looked towards it. Opening then what was a sealed letter inside, her eyes glanced over the words before she set it back down and took a deep breath and glanced to the Captain of the guard that had just been briefing her for the day. “Have the men start drilling, tell them we may… have war. Tell them to begin reinforcing all the walls, all the gates, and to gather as much as we can for the mangonels, and trebuchets…”

Since the days of the synod, the first to be formally called in decades, the venerable Cathedral seemed to have found new life. The strategically central position which had marked it as an ideal place for the gathering had thrust it into the role of staging point of all deliberation pertaining to the carven host in the south, and black and green throngs of masked figures had flowed to it from the four corners of Naraksh. The upper chambers of the great turreted building, once a place no less spectral than the catacombs under the Imperial Throne, had become haunted by a new army of rustling, faceless spectres who flitted from one shelf to another, gathering up crumbling tomes and old, yellowed scrolls and dropping them demonstratively on tables before each other. The corridors running parallel to the nave, until a few weeks before the domain of wardens and officiants, were rivers of activity, the almost constant flow of adjuncts hurrying up the spires' stairways and down into the subterranean vaults being only occasionally interrupted by the shrinking and receding that heralded the loping passage of a draped Kuraxxi. It seemed a miracle rivalling the appearance of the fateful sculptures that this swarming cauldron of activity managed to remain almost entirely silent save for the whispered, though no less spirited for it, debates among the hoary parchments.

Alone amid it, the high priests were not inconvenienced in the slightest by this surging activity. The Exarch of the Throne seemed to have taken up permanent residence in one of the towers, occasionally summoning acolyte overseers or sending out for some manuscript or the other. Raziemir, while not quartered at or even near the Cathedral, was a frequent visitor, though he spent as much time in the capital as he did there. The other three made occasional appearances with some regularity, which was itself something unheard of for more than a century to that side. Exarchs seldom left their domains for occasions less momentous than the crowning of a new Emperor, but this curious miracle was tacitly and unanimously agreed to be worthy of continued attention. The recent voices of strangely frequent tremors in the lands over one of the tombs of old did little to assuage their restlessness, though none had been able to confirm them fully to that time.

Nevertheless, it was not all of the Exarchs that were assembled in Nezhiten's turret-chamber as that day turned to evening, and it was not of dim rumours that they spoke. Only two figures stood over the low round table in the center of the small room; one had the burning eyes of the Southerner, while the sword and throne emblem on the other's robes denoted him as the archcleric of the lands around the Imperial Demesne. Raziemir was half-leaning upon the wooden surface, holding down, as he did, an unfolded parchment sparsely covered in writing and bearing a single, rusty seal near its bottom.

“You did it, after all.” Nezhiten’s voice was toneless and impassive as sinisterly as could have been expected of a chosen of the Emperor personally. “And you are certain that it will be safe, as an” he stretched out the word, whether deliberately or seeking an appropriate continuation, “offering?”

“Not certain.” By force of contrast, the southerner’s words seemed even more cutting than wont. “But that is indifferent now. After those who died outside Nergerad, the Sanguines’ excesses, those miners at Dyria, caution has become useless. Already, we have ceased the breaking of victims. I would have had the High Executioner dispatched south to perform its duty, but His Sanctity would not have acquiesced.”

“If this shadow continues to grow, you will not need to petition for that. All Naraksh might be covered by it. You know I still hold it would be safer to let it run its course that way.”

“We have an opportunity, Nezhiten, and, whether we be heirs or regents, it would be foolishness unfit for our station to waste it. The true faith has been rotting for centuries. This may not be a blessing of the Old Ones, but what matters it if only we know the truth? To preserve their strength, we must also show their wrath.”

“Be it as you say, then. The order is sealed anyway. When will you begin?”

“I already have.”

The Exarch of the Throne inclined his head to one side, his posture conveying the frown of disbelief that his vestments concealed.

“Before you had the Emperor’s approval?”

“I did not need it to call out for willing sacrifices. Even if I was denied, I would have had separated the loyal from the putrid, and that would have had some use.”

“But you did not order the razing of the towns they had left yet.”

“Not before today. I sent a courier to the wurm-masters as I left the Throne with this.” He tapped the parchment with the fingers that held it in place. “They are waiting in place. If the message makes good time, Vitcheni, Svanekholm and Ushelo will be no more by tonight.”

Nezhiten nodded, slightly enough that anyone but another cleric would have mistaken it for an involuntary motion. Though he and Raziemir might have been divided on doctrinal positions and there certainly was no sympathy lost between them, he had to agree with most of the Order that the southern Exarch’s devotion was of a sort thought to have been lost to the world along with the Old Empire. This made him, in some ways, invaluable to the faith, and at other times a liability with his gambles. Yet never had it been as outrageous as this time: meddling with the Sanguine Brotherhood was one thing, and the sacrifice of entire three towns, save for a handful of fanatics from each, to these shadowy artefacts was another.

On the one hand, Nezhiten was not inclined to argue against it. However crude, this was a more thorough solution than any inquisition raid, and one was bound to more apostates and subversives than anything whichever way one swung. The disappearance of hundreds, if not even thousands – he did not remember hearing of those places before, and could only assume the towns were not large ones – in ash was also the best way imaginable to put the fear of the gods into the people at large; the rumours of groundquakes around the tombs would fan the fire brighter than ever. Besides, Raziemir had obtained a dispensation from the Emperor himself. And still, no one knew what those statues were, where they came from, and what they did with the claimed dead. The letter found in the Throne was no more than words, and even those from sources just as mysterious. Raziemir, obviously, did not care about it, which was probably worse yet.

Times were growing strange, and this called for more caution than ever, whatever his colleague might have said. Caution and preparation.

“As the Emperor wills.” Nezhiten replied finally. “I will send word to the others that they may be ready for this spark. The fires of the deep will sing again.”



Every Narakshi knew about the underworld. Few could properly guess at what was below their feet, but none that was born of the ashlands rested unaware that they walked on hollow ground, often without even being aware of it. Folk legends, acolytes’ sermons and scraps of tales from the tremendously rare few who ventured into the depths and returned painted images of it as nightmarish as they were discordant. Seas of darkness clashed with mountains of living fire; some imagined entire worlds, with their forests, lakes and further underworlds within it. And, lurking in the corners of some of these stories, was the suspicion that, were one to truly behold the abyss, they would be disappointed by it a sight far less striking than those imagined.

Inma had often caught this doubt, and at length come to agree with its whispers. No horror the underworld held could possibly measure up to those conjured by the mind, and, when descending through the forgotten entrance outside town that Brother Svierav had shown her, she had been ready to internally nod to her predictions.

She had been wrong.

Their party had not encountered a single living thing in the journey down the twisting stone ramp and through the barren chambers beyond, but the oppressive silence and the eerie sights had been fearsome enough. Clambering down the roughly hewn, distressingly worn stone steps, a blank wall of live rock to one side and an immense, blind chasm to the other had been an experience incomparable to even the thrill of the most desperate struggles she had faced before. More than the fear of slipping or stumbling, which nonetheless was very solid, it was the sheer size of the abyss that chilled the travellers. The darkness was such that they could not see much beyond their own masks, but they could feel it there, ancient, vast and unfathomable like the Sanguinary One itself. How many unwary seekers had it claimed to the somber amusement of its maker?

The vaults they had stepped into through were little better. The danger was lesser there, and flames lit the way, baring their hoary walls to the sight. Yet the fires were silent, and their red hearts blinked like eyes that should not have been. The twisting pillars, never touched by a chisel, and spines of grown stone were akin to grinning teeth. In the mouth of a storyteller, these details would have seemed trite and unthreatening alongside the wilder fancies of what lay in the deep, but their sight was another matter altogether.

The final chamber was the smallest, and the most choking in the chest, for the Prophet was there.

Though far at the further wall, facing away from them and towards what seemed to be a roughly carven fount in the rock, the armoured figure seemed enormous. Perhaps it was the spikes on its helm and shoulders, or the fact that the ceiling sank lower the further it stretched away from the entrance. It seemed to fill half of the chamber with its bulk, even as it stood still, though its cuirass was little thicker than that of a Scourge.

They had been quiet on the approach, but the Prophet saw all.

“Stay and speak.” he said. His voice was a soft murmuring, like the sound of a stream of thick, viscous fluid.

Inma opened her mouth, then closed it again. She glanced at Svierav, at Vasjal and Tresne, who had come with her from Glaazwie to seek the Prophet and spent weeks crawling through Daravžil and Yazvogne, following the sparse leads the local brethren could give. They had been ready and eager to go as they set out, though they knew that the wisdom of the Prophet was dearly bought, but now, when they were alone, beneath lengths of earth, with this creature that did not speak like a thing of flesh, their resolve had frozen and run sluggish. The awareness of close death loomed clearer than when they were over the chasm. But she had to know.

“Bäkhte-kostris,” she rasped through a dry throat. The figure in armour did not budge at the address. “The One’s bounty… It don’t bleed anymore, south. E’en here. They die and it’s like they burn. It’s no bounty, it’s dirt.” She paused, moving her jaw up and down a few times to stave off the rigidity. The Prophet was still. “Does ‘t mean… The One won’t take it? It’s no pleased any longer?”

The Prophet still remained unmoving. Only the dripping and churning of his breath rose from his figure.

Inma staggered, bending forward and clutching her sides. She felt her skin wobble, twist, thrash with its own life. Her insides were spinning, compressing, as though drawn in by a pulling force, then abruptly thrust outwards with searing violence. Her eyelids slid down inadvertently, weighing down liquidly on her sight. There was something welling from within her chest, now here, now there, seeking an escape. With the corner of the eye, she saw the others keeling in silent surprise, saw their clothes fester with wide, dark red stains, saw the saturated fabric drip, flow with them. The stains in the air, over her – she felt them on her own skin now – before her eyes as all grew black. She tried to speak, to scream, but her mouth was already open, and she coughed out blood into her mask.

Through the haze, the murmur of the Prophet’s voice came clearer than ever.

“Everything will be ash in the end. Sooner, later, does it matter?” Through one of the few clear rifts remaining in the curtain of sanguine shade, she saw that the stains at her feet were greying ad shrivelling. Or did they in truth? “Blood is life, not death. If something lives, it’s a bounty, for it has its riches to offer. When it has given that up, there’s no more difference.” Yes, the puddles were wilting. Had wilted. There were already none. Only specks of dust. “The Sanguinary One works as it likes. It made this miracle so that those who exalt their fellow pit fighters will squirm in doubt and fear. Who are you? Do you squirm with them?” Slowly, the haze began to fade, as did the wracking pain. “You know your true calling. You know how it will be better pleased. Do what you do, and never doubt, whatever happens. The world’s purpose is eternal.”

She could breathe again. Her hands were still dripping, but she could feel the slippery, nauseous surface begin to grow dry and dusty in places. At the other end of the chamber, the Prophet had still not moved.

“Go. Kill and celebrate. Do not be delayed by fear. Our lives are short enough as it is.”

With only a passing look at her companions, who were, as her, staggering back into shape, Inma turned and stumbled away, far from that sacred and terrible presence. Back to the surface of light and things that could be fought with courage and a sword.



The Beast of Ash opened its cavernous mouth, and the ground shook with the fury of its roar.

“Halt!” the trumpets screamed out the order to the whole cohort. Most were in decent position, for garrison troops. The majority were Vuori from the North, asked for this purpose by Royal courier. They carried themselves well in the uniform of that Vuori Militia, perhaps more so because of their distance from their Homeland. A trip down various rivers and a large amount of fast marching had led to the current state.

Palisades ranged in construction up around the site, there was a base camp nearby which more work had been put towards. The quarry site on one side, the south-eastern corner, was steeped too much to be safely traversable, the other sides had Palisades in construction, but were not particularly well finished, they wouldn't stop anyone who cared enough to get in at this stage. Around the forest had been cut back to get the wood and to open up clear lines of sight for the almost fort being constructed. Inside the quarry for the reason and cause for all this, an army of Statues some taking the faces of those recently dead most not yet, although the number has been growing.

A Magus stood with Prince Belzaren overlooking the whole situation from up the steep incline. Several Royal Guards kept watch, two parasol bearers stood by the Prince as he talked with the Magus. The Magus, Arawhurd, was dressed in the standard robes and looked quite uncomfortable, either in his position or the weather it was hard to tell. While the Prince was dressed in Regal traveling clothes, although he had elected to keep a thin decorative cape with the four-pointed star of Freishann on it.

“Will you tell me Headmaster-Magus, how exactly was all this found?”

“Yes, your Ro-”

“Sir will do, now that you have addressed me.”

“Yes sir, of course sir, my apologies.” Headmaster-Magus Arawhurd blotted his forward with his handkerchief nervously before continuing to the Prince. “Some time ago, the Baroness Aystoai was not clear, bodies of the recently deceased in the area turned to dust. As well these statues were discovered by some woodsmen with uh some of the deceased who they knew had their faces on them.”

“How long ago was this then? This,” he gestured towards the fortifications being erected, “is not a few days work, getting the men here and the proper equipment in enough number.”

“Yes sir, a few weeks ago perhaps, the work was started by a number of the locals organized by the Baroness as well as her retinue, later she brought in some townspeople and sent the word out, as well as coercing various travelers.”

“Hence why you’re here.”

“Yes sir, she apparently knows a Vuori councilman and well,” he gestured towards the cohort, “clear enough what came of that. I’ve been trying to do what I can to figure out as the Baroness prevailed upon me.”

Arawhurd paused before continuing, “Sir I believe the Baroness was seeking some form of monetary compensation for her efforts…”

“It's been taken care of. Now, more importantly, I want you in charge of this whole investigation since you’ve been here actually investigating the damn things longer than anyone else. I’ve brought along some Magus from the Collegium at Asyhaven who may be able to figure something out, in addition to some Priests as the magic of the dead is not something I’ve seen mortal magic do.”

Arawhurd took a moment before realizing a response was expected there, “Yes sir, thank you sir, as always your decisions are most wise.”

“Yes yes, we’re finished here, the party I brought with me is in camp, you are dismissed.”

Arawhurd bowed as he left, almost tripping down the incline before being steadied by a guard and starting down towards the camp.

Thoughts swam like a storm through Aonghas mind, his hand gripping his sword tightly as he stared out over the army of statues. Turning his head he looked back at the two hundred elf warriors he had brought, then down at the twenty mages lined up before him. A whisper of cloth on leather could be heard as he hopped down from his steed and stepped to stand next to Marsalli, the mage barely even spared Aonghas a glimpse before looking back to the stone army.

"Strange beings aren't they Prince Aonghas?" The Magitrix moved to stand in line next to the other mages, all the important ones were there. Eibhlin had not come but Brigh and Una were accounted for among their numbers.

The Prince licked his lips, and turned to look up and down the line once more. "Well know this no matter what, the army has your back, we will fight these stone beings to the last if they choose to attack."

A faint smile crossed Marsalli's lips. "It seemed to do someting in the Emerald Empire, but we will do this without damaging the statues unnecessarily. I can only hope that it quenches whatever they are after, and that they leave."

Backing away from the mages, and setting his fighting hand on his sword hilt he prepared himself to watch the show, the cavalry behind him restless as their horses danced this way and that. Bolt throwers were loaded and ready to fire their enormous bolts into the stone army.

As one the mages brought their hands up, eyes closing, as they focused, and channeled, the air before them beginning to sizzle with the power they were building up, light so bright it blinded those behind them to the point that they had to look away, it was as if a sun had descended upon the very ground in front of them.

As the power continued to grow tendrils of energy began to lash out from the ball leaving burnt lines across the ground wherever they landed. Still the mages pushed more energy into the ball, the surrounding landscape began to burn with the bright light, it was as if day had exploded in the midst of the night.

Still it was not over though, as the mages began to exhaust themselves of magic, the most powerful pouring even more than the others into the ball though. Then all at once the ball turneed a bright purple and begain to snap the air leazing the scent of burning ozone falling upon the elven army. With a snap though the energy was suddenly released, and it poured over over the stone army as a wave of powerful energy that would burn any normal person to ash. Writhing and cracking and hissing the energy washed over the rows and columns of the stone soldiers before them.

As the wave of magical energy flooded the endless rows of statues, those touched by the immense power began to glow a crimson red, deformed faces jumbling on the faceless ones, with those already bearing the faces of the dead remaining the same. Astonishingly the wave of magic slowly began to fade, streams of its light being hastily absorbed by the statues below, and the deformed faces fading as the energy was sapped.

As the tickle of magic finally faded from the atmosphere, the elven army found themselves standing before the same sight they were mere moments ago, save for the scortched earth surrounding the statues.

Suddenly a deep baritone laugh rang from behind the Elven army.

The mages were stunned by the lack of any action that had been of consequence from the massive amount of magic pushed forth. Prince Aonghas himself was completley stunned, he had never seen a showing of such power, and it had done literally nothing at all. "We wi-" however he did not get the words out as a deep laugh erupted behind him. Heads turned, the soldiers immediately did an about face, as the cavalry worked their reins to get their horses turned around.

There standing on a patch overlooking the army was a single figure. It was covered head to toe in a dark dusty metal, with bold faces and sharp edges that of the Fervari style. He was leaning on a mighty strange forward curved blade with his right hand, and a boxy sharp edged shield covered his left arm. Behind his metal suit, all that could be seen was his chin and mouth, both a gross mix of earthen colors and coals, with terrible yellow teeth poking behind thick slightly decayed lips.

As everyone's vision fell upon the figure, he again let out his booming voice, "for what reason do you throw your magic at these soldiers?"

The troops parted letting the Prince walk through, in his hand he carried now his curved blade to his side, the tip pointed in the Fevari's direction. "To test what they are. To see how they react! What do you know of these.. Soldiers, tell me!"

The rest of the elven force dared not move, they had not been given order to, and the mages well they stood to the rear, still depleted of their magic from the incredible amount they had used against the stone army.

"I know who made them, and I know their purpose," The Grogar answered, "and I know why your magic was seemingly wasted."

Aonghas looked back to the army behind him, then to the stone army behind his own. "If you know their purpose, if you know so much about them, then tell us, that we might better see them properly used."

"I do not doubt they will do their purpose, but I do have doubts you will see to their purpose," The Grogar answered, "do you truly wish to know how to properly use such devices?"

"I would not ask if I did not wish to know... They are on our land, they are not of our make, it seems to be of the utmost importance that we learn of their design and reason."

"They are here to protect this land," The Grogar answered, "they will not harm you, not unless you harm them."

The Grogar paused a moment, "however, not all of them are ready to be used, those without faces still need sacrifices."

The Prince seemed confused for a moment, and chewed the inside of his lip before walking towards the Grogar, his sword still at the ready just in case. "Sacrifice. Do you mean we must kill our own people to prepare this army?"

As the Prince approached, he couldn't help but to notice the smell of wet soil coming from the Grogar. The metal clad Fervari shook his head, "it just requires death, it does not care where it is from. The death of an animal will not do, it requires that of a sentient... be it dryad, to elf or human. It does not care which, nor your relation to the dead, nor how they died."

creases came to the corners of the elf's lips as he frowned all the more. "I see. What are they here to protect the lands from? Why cannot we protect the lands ourselves?"

"You're inadequate," The Grogar answered, "it is too risky to allow you to fight what is to come as you are. These soldiers have been tailored over hundreds of years to fight the enemy, it makes their requirement worth the while."

"See it such as this," The Grogar explained, "either a few die to power this army, these armies, or all is lost."

" I see, how do you figure into all this? What is your purpose?" He looked to his soldiers, and took a deep breath. "What is coming for the stone army to fight?"

"An army of angels, born of the Lord Emperor and the Primordials," The Grogar growled, "and I figure I know what is best considering I have been spending the last three hundred years fighting them."

"I see, then.. I will speak with the Queen, I will ask for her aid in this endeavor... It would be helpful if you could meet with her as well."

"By all means," The Grogar agreed. A deep inhale skimmed under his helmet for a moment and then the Fervari let out a grainy and deep roar, "STAND AT THE READY!"

The Grogar coughed as the sound of stone grinding began to ring across the scene as the statues began to spring to life, "I will see your Queen, know me as Krag of Tarkima, Knight of the Silver Legion."

The Curious Expedition

(Collab with @Yennefer)

The birthing pool was still, having already created it’s most recently children the day before, it would be at least another day before anymore were born forth from the waters, unless of course one of the Shamans stoked the pool into action using some form of sacrifice. Leaning on her spear Alwai gave a sigh, and touched her smooth cheek, it was cool, and felt almost as if it was made of river stone. She was getting old, and soon would join her sisters in the garden of ancestors, or die in battle.

---

This fucking jungle. What kind of creature on Wendigo’s green earth could possibly deign to call this home? For Aku, it was hard to believe that anything could live here, let alone sentient life. Someone actually chose to live here. Permanently. For the rest of their life. Utterly wild.

They’d been travelling for a couple of weeks now. After that little “incident” in Karakor that wound up with two nobles dead and a young lady without a husband, the King had been insistent on his daughter settling down her wild antics and learn to become a proper royal. So he set her up on a diplomatic mission to the great jungles in the west to speak with the Amazon tribes and see if they can’t maybe muster up some kind of mutual agreement that could provide even the slightest of advantage against the bastard Freishannese. Aku had to question the logic of sending a young, fiery Princess who had made no secret of her attraction to the noble women at court into a jungle of creatures that were apparently nothing but women, but hey, he was just a bodyguard. Who was he to question the authority of an old and respected king who had spent the last twenty years never bothering to leave his goddamn castle?

But bloody hell, they could have sent them anywhere else. Anywhere at all. They could have gone to a nice civilised kingdom with plains and castles and cities. But nope, Aku’s luck determined that he was gonna be packed off and sent away to some forgotten hellhole that even the Ancient Ones themselves wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole being held by someone else. If the heat wasn’t making him sweat through his armour, there were animals who saw him as nothing more than a snack. Even the plants couldn't be trusted - they’d already lost someone because they dared to stop for a rest for a couple of minutes. But Aku was nothing if not loyal, and he battled on regardless. It better be bloody worth it at the end, or he swore, he’d run the king through himself…

The jungle was quite filled with fog this morning, a person likely not being able to really see more than ten feet in front of them. Another thing to notice would be the quiet, everything was silent, not a bird in the trees making a noise, not a bug clicking as it moved through the underbrush, not even the sound of the strange goat like animals that seemed to wander the well traveled animal paths of the jungle were to be heard, no, it was a silence like that of a cold death far from civilization.

A shadow in the fog, what could it have been, then another, but this one was large, strangling shaped, it might even resemble some paintings of dragons of old, but then it too was gone. A low hooting sound came from the branches above their heads, then another in the distance, then another even further away.

Like children huddling from the boogeymen in the closet, the ragged delegation bundled together. Obviously it wouldnt provide them much protection if whatever the thing was decided it did want to chow down upon one of the greyskinned intruders, but it gave them the illusion of safety. Sometimes that was enough. And sometimes, just sometimes, the trees would break and everyone would get a lovely view of the sky shining down from above like the finger of God, before the oppressive heat, hanging vines and thick fog would once again plunge them into obscurity. A part of Aku feared they would never escape - that the stories they had heard were lies or illusions, and that they would be lost in this jungle forever, chasing a myth. It was a thought that seemed impossible to shake off.

As the silence settled once more, a odd shrieking sound, and clicking would come from the group’s left, louder it grew, and soon the found of feet joined it, though what came from the fog was no woman, instead it was a group, at least fifteen of them of bipedal reptiles carrying spears and clubs. They gave a shrill screech at the sight of the party before them, and began stamping their feet, clicking their tongue and thrusting their weapons into the air.

“Skinks!” one soldier cried. “Kobolds!” said another. What they were didnt really matter. The problem was, they were in the way, and by the looks of things, they werent exactly happy with the intruders in their territory.

As head bodyguard, it fell to Aku to give out commands. “Close rank! Protect the Princess!” he barked, his voice painfully unsuited to the position of authority he had been granted. But Anikki wasn’t a fan of that plan. “Come on then, ya ugly bastards!”

A slight snapping sound could be heard, and the reptilian men stopped dead in place, not moving as they looked around, their leather shields being brought up. They seemed worried about something, and it wasn’t Anikki and her group. Almost if there was some signal given, arrows and javelins filled the air from the brush on either side of the reptiles, the primitive yet effective weapons punching holes in the creatures, that left them stumbling to the ground, foaming blood issuing from their mouths. One began to run, but suddenly a large set of jaws came from the fog and snatched him off his feet, both disappearing once more into the white, the only sign that they’d even been there was the sound of bones cracking, and snapping as the beast ate the smaller creature… Once more things fell deathly silent, the group was left staring at the dead lizardmen.

Well… that simplified matters. But before they could allow themselves to be relieved, the question of HOW that happened was already running through the Drow. Their mage died weeks ago. Who could have done this - and more importantly, were they friendly?

Nothing happened, for a long moment it was still, and quiet. Then suddenly an arrow launched through the fog and impaled itself in the ground before the group, then a second slightly further away, then a third even further, like a path was being created for the group.

Anikki took the executive decision. “That way.” She shook free of the circle that had formed around her and darted along the path. Aku swiftly followed, “Come on, boys. Or would you rather wait for the skinks to come back?”

For several minutes they would follow the path, and still nothing appeared before them, simply more jungle. Occasionally noises could be heard, the hooting sounds would emit all around them then go quiet again. They would finally come to a clearing, a woman standing along in the middle, her face covered by the skull of what looked like some kind of reptile, her body bare except for paint that obscured any fine details of her flesh, in her hand was a club with what looked like some large beast’s teeth embedded into the sides.

Almost out of instinct, at the sight of the woman, the mottley troupe averted their eyes. All but two, that was. The Princess herself, and Aku; Anikki looked out of curiousity and admiration, Aku because his duty as a bodyguard came before his modesty. For a long time no-one spoke. Then, in order to break the silence and to stop Anikki’s blatant ogling, Aku finally spoke. “I assume it’s you we have to thank for removing those lizards?”

The woman only growled in reply, and from the brush around them, stood up even more of the warriors, all of them dressed in varying forms of paint, feathers, and bones, their weapons pointed towards the group, whether it was spears bows, or javelins. Still they were quiet, at least for the moment, a single woman walked forward from the fog, she was dressed rather regally, and held up a hand then motioned at the group. “Lay down your weapons, or you will die.”

Aku raised a closed fist. Then, realising everyone was still looking at the ground, he clarified “Come on, gents, swords away!” and they sheathed their swords. Except, of course, Anikki, who seemed determined to get the entire crew murdered. Even after her bodyguard elbowed her, she refused to drop her sword.

“Ani, let’s not start a fight.”

The Princess seemed insulted at the idea. “What, and give them the advantage? Come off it, Aku”

“They HAVE the advantage” Aku bristled. “This isnt like Karakor. You can’t fight your way out of everything”

“Watch me”

Of course she’d say that. Idiot was gonna end up committing suicide by angry Amazon. “Ani, if you die, we’re all dead. This isn’t just you we’re talking about, and if you keep waving that bloody thing about, they WILL kill us! At least this way there’s a chance!”

A look of aggravation crossed the woman with the bow’s face, and in a blue of movement, there was suddenly two arrows in the air, one impaling the ground right next to Ani’s foot, the other hitting the hilt of the sword just above Ani’s hand. “Only warning. Put it away or I kill you before you can even take a step.”

Ani didn’t show any sign that she was gonna drop it. She narrowed her eyes at the Amazons and for a brief, terrifying moment, Aku thought she was gonna attack. So in an act of physical force most unbecoming, he grabbed the damn thing out her hands.
“You are going to get us killed!” he hissed as he jabbed into her sheathe. Glares were exchanged, but Anikki saw something in her friend’s eyes. It wasn’t anger, but fear. He was scared of these Amazons. Why? Didn’t he have faith in their abilities?

“Better.” The woman approached them and stopped. “I am Tamo, Elder of the Momo tribe, why have you come to our lands? Outsiders do not last long in this place.” Her nose would wrinkle a bit as she looked them over, and stopped on Aku for a moment. “Tiny.” She said simply before looking back to Ani. “You are their leader?”

Anikki’s lip curled up in the hints of a snigger. “Momo…” before earning a sharp elbow to the gut by Aku. She cleared her throat and began again. “Oh, sorry. Um. My name’s Anikki Ykkonen, princess of Tsunatontu and second heir to the throne. Nice to meet you.”

Aku cleared his throat, signalling her to go on. “Oh, and this is my friend Aukustii. Aku for short.”

Right, fuck this noise, time to take over. “We’re here on a diplomatic mission from Tsunatontu.” Aku rolled his eyes “We were told your people may be around here and we hoped to speak with your leader”

“You act more like a leader so you no get those who follow dead.” Turning from the group Tomo would begin walking away, the women still surrounding them ready to strike at the first sign of danger. “Come we talk, I am leader of tribe, so now have found me to speak with.”

Crisis averted. But there was no time to rest on their laurels. These deadly women could fall upon them and tear them all to shreds if they wished. Best to keep them on side for now. They made to follow, the soldiers still very clearly averting their gaze from all the scantily clad women kicking about.

They walked for some time, before eventually moving through a curtain of vines, and laid out before them was a village, huts strewn about stone temples, large stone statues brooding over those that entered. A circle of amazons seemed to have been made near the center of the village where two of the warriors were fighting each other, full contact too became apparently was one slammed their fist into the other’s face and sent her spinning into the dirt.

“We go to shrine for talk.” Tomo said simply. “Only two, others stay here watching, eat.”

Well, that certainly got their attention. Anikki looked more keen to run up and join in with the brawl than sit in some boring old shrine and talk politics, but it was kind of her job to do that. She did have another ambassador with her that she could theoretically send in her place. But in the end, Aku got to stay outside and watch the pretty ladies while she was lumped with some-level beaurecrat.

“Keep them in line for me, eh, Aku?” she told the younger soldier as she gathered her assistant and went off with the Elder.

Within moments food and drink were brought to the group waiting for the Princess to be done speaking with Tomo, sustenance seemed to consist of some kind of wine made from a very very sweet fruit, and the food itself was some sort of roasted fowl.

Tomo stopped before a enormous statue of a woman, and stared up at it. “Speak before eyes of Goddess.” Tomo said simply to Aki. “Why come here?”

“Goddess?” Ani glanced up at the towering statue. These people… had goddesses? She shouldn’t really be surprised - they seemed like backwards savages after all - but it was just such a shock to hear that word. Her shock must have shown in her face, because the other ambassador, an elderly Drow lady, piped up quickly “The Princess is here to discuss a potential alliance and trade deal with the people of your nation. Is that not right, Princess?” The last word came out a little tersely

“Huh? Oh, hai, hai, that!” This was gonna be a disaster, this was…

The brows of Tomo furrowed as she considered this offer. “Many come, many ask alliance, trade these things Kitini know not.” She looked up at the Goddess once more and reached out gently touching the foot of the statue. “Goddess give life, birth to Kitini, give birth to Tomo we stay near Goddess, no leave for alliance, no leave for trade. You trade with Tribeswomen, that it though.”

If it wasn’t already painfully clear that Anikki was a total novice to the whole negotiation thing, her reaction to that surely gave it away. She blinked in surprise. “What? Surely you have some kind of enemy that you’d like protection against. A-and we’ve been fighting for years, do you even have training? You guys are surrounded, after all.”

“Enemies come to Kitini tribes and die in jungle, foreigners come to Kitini tribes and die in jungle, all die in jungle, Kitini tribes live.”

“Odd. We said that about our plains. Trust me. Someone will break through eventually, and they’ll use smoke and fire to do it. You need an organised force here. Someone who knows how these guys fight.” she smiled thinly “And that happens to be us”

“Survive this long easy enough, Ninika tribe fight generations against North Men still no fall, now you here, with pointy ears, fancy clothes, fancy weapons, think we need help from you. Think we need protection from you, but you just say you fail to protect selves.”

Anikki looked down at her clothes, marred and mucky from the slog through the jungle. Then she looked back up at the Amazon. “I’m trying to tell you that even the strongest empire has its weaknesses. Its inevitable. The advantage comes when two people with different strengths cover each others weaknesses.” She paused and thought for a moment “Have you ever heard of trebuchets? Catapults? Balistas?”

“Tomo has heard of these things, massive weapons for massive walls.” She frowned a bit. “Useless in jungle. Tell Tomo, what princess expects from Kitini for alliance.”

“Where do you get your weapons from?” the princess asked suddenly. “Cant be many mines around here, can there?”

“Make weaons from stone, wood, and black glass.” She said simply as she waved a hand towards a pair of arrows resting on a table nearby with stone heads.

“What, no iron? Steel? Mithril? Silver?”

“No these are things we no have, Do not make. Have seen Iron, no have iron, have bone though, bone work well as weapons.”

She was going to argue her point - but she realised she could just show her instead. “Do you mind coming with me for a second?” She asked

Tomo would cock a brow before shrugging, and following the Princess. “Tomo will follow.”

Outside, the assembled gadabouts, desperately trying to avert their gaze from any of the passing Amazons who dared so much as glance in their direction, were sitting in a circle, looking firmly at each other and talking amongst themselves. One word from Aku had them on their feet and saluting.

“Can I borrow someone’s hammer?” she asked the assembly, who promptly managed to produce one from the only guy with a warhammer that actually survived. Well, it was more one of those one handed hammers, so it wasnt utterly worthless in a jungle environment, and it was perfect for what Ani wanted to do.

“Alright, get me one of your bone swords” she told Tomo

Nodding towards a warrior, the woman stepped forward and set a flat almost paddle looking object on the table before the Princess. It was completely made of bone, with sharp serrated teeth embedded into the thinner blades on either side fo the paddle like weapon

The Princess took the sword in hand and passed the hammer to Aku. “You know what to do.” she told him. He certainly did. As the Princess held the blade out flat, Aku, with a mighty swing, slammed down on the bone blade. Under that kind of pressure, it splintered immediately, shards of ivory flying everywhere as the sword split into two equally useless ends.

Aku and Ani both looked at Tomo as if to say “Well?” but neither said anything. The shattered sword was a statement that needed no clarification.

“See I do..” Tomo said mildly as she walked forward and took the hammer, holding it out and looking it over. “Hmm.. We discuss trade for this in bath.”

“You guys have communal baths here?” A few eyes perked up. That was a familiar thing to hear so far from home.

“A spring, river runs next to, keeswater clean, we use it to bathe in.”

“Fair enough. So when does that happen?”

“Now” Tomo would lead them down a path through several sets of vines, and between huts, and fires. Upon reaching the spring it would be seen there were already several of the Momo tribeswomen bathing, and chatting, Tomo herself disrobing and entering the water, and sitting and waiting for the foreigners to join them.

With an uncharacteristic eagerness, the troops swiftly disrobed and sank beneath the water, completely changing their tune from their near pathological insistence of avoiding looking at the scantily clad ladies around them. Nudity was okay, but scant dressing was not, it seemed. The only one who reserved themselves was, you guessed it, Aku. He blushed furiously when he saw women actually naked and decided to sod the whole business, claiming he would look after everyone’s gear from potential thieves. Ani let him. She had ladies to flirt with.

The hammer was passed over to the women who were already in the spring, and they began to look it over curiously, testing it’s weight etc. Tomo looked up and leaned back on the edge of the pool and tapped her fingers against a rock. “What want in exchange for these items?”

That was a good question. These jungle fighters wouldn’t fare well in the icy pits of the Drow homeland, but they also seemed to lack the modern equipment the Drow so desperately needed. With war on the horizon, they needed good weapons, strong fighters and raw materials with which to make weapons, armour and defences.

“What are you like with magic?” Anikki asked, washing her arms

“Have shamans, powerful magic users, more powerful warriors though…” Tomo stood up and walked over to a rock that weighed at least two hundred pounds, and lifted it up above her head and then hurled it into the river. “Strong.”

They had good strength, she’d give them that. But its the cold thats the problem. “You get snow here? I cant imagine it.

“Know not what snow be.” She slipped back into the water, and stared for a moment. “You still no make offer for what want.”

“Sorry. There’s just a lot of things to consider. Frankly, I can’t think of anything we can trade. No offense, but all your stuff seems best suited for jungles - which is fine, but we don’t live in jungles, and we don’t fight in jungles. We’d be poked if we used your weapons and tactics in our homeland”

Frowning a bit, Tomo looked back at a woman standing nearby and gave her a nod. “Tomo assume all foreigners want same thing.” When the woman returned she was carrying a tray, and upon the tray was several chunks of raw gold. “This trade?”

That was… A hefty price. She felt sort of bad. “Isn't that too much? I mean, its steel, its not like its STUPIDLY valuable…”

Looking back at the gold on the tray, she turned back to the Princess. “This not just for hammer, this for more. You bring more, for this in exchange.”

“Well… alright. But how do you have gold and no steel?”

“Does it come from same place? We found this, pretty enough, but no good for much else. Outsiders like though. You think on it.. Tomo must do other things, eat, sleep, then go see chieftess… Maybe bring Princess.”

Well, that went better than she thought. The look on her dad's face when she came back with Gold! But for now, they had to rest up, talk things over and deal with all the finer details after a hot meal and a cold drink.

…

…

…

…

Silence. This is how it has been for weeks, absolute silence. Not a ship, not a skimmer, not a sail nor paddle. No life other than the gull seem to come from the Southern reaches of Askor. The great walled country has seemingly gone completely quiet, save for the wildlife and blowing wind.

That wind. The wind blows westward toward the isle, and on it it carries clouds of ash, scattered and uneven.

…

…

…

Silence. Ash. What has happened to the South?



Another letter arrives:

“Expect the Masters of the Stones. Two days from the southern border.”



As the boats containing Robert get closer to the Oliran border, the statues begin to stir, not permitting anyone to enter their ranks, but allowing sacrifices to continue on the perimeter of the stone army’s housing place.



The Statues of Lynnfaire have been activated… News of skirmishes between stone soldiers and crystal soldiers as well as crystal soldiers and Lynnfairish soldiers break out on the Northern Border…

“52...51...50...49…. Angle 60… 61… FIRE!”

The air cracked as the Bastion Balista of the small far northern fort of Yorn released its massive bolt, the entire contraption rocking, the bolts holding it in place groaning under the recoil. The bolt arched over the thick stone walls, flying above a swampy field filled with the dead and dying, all turning to smoke or ash as Stone Soldier’s battle the Crystals soldiers, the Lynnfairish garrison having already been called inside. The bolt continued its journey through a cloud of small winged creatures, armed with blade like arms and legs, with alien faces of crystal, and directly into a large red flying crystal beast, the dragon like monster exploding into a ball of flame as the bolt crashed through it.

“Sir, we got em,” an Engineer called out to a massive Loshe man holding a looking glass, “45...47…”

The men grabbed the iron cranks and began turning in the new coordinates…



The Stone Armies of Tarkima have activated and are beginning an Eastward Journey, stopping at the Utyre border.

An unexpected guest

Lord Jalokivi's rise had not been entirely predictable. His father had been the retainer of a minor lord, Baron Kurakav, a fat and corrupt man who was good for putting up a show and not much else. He was an impotent ruler, a poor administrator and an all-round liability to the kingdom as a whole. After years of loyal service, he had called Sir Jalokovi to his court to award him with... A rocky, barren outcrop.

"It is our dearest hope" he had said "that you shall take these rich and fertile lands and turn them into a shining example of what all drow should hope to achieve. With some hard wark, you shall be the envy of Tsunatontu!"

Sir Jalokivi could do nothing splutter a thanks. The act was an insult to his honour, and everyone knew it. Sir Jalokivi was everything Kurakav was not. He was kind, loyal, charitable and popular. Kurakav saw this as a threat to what trappings of power he had. So he got rid of his imagined rival in the smartest way he could think of - granting him his own dominion where Jalokivi was even more impotent than the Baron. Everyone at court was aware of what the Baron had done, including Jalokivi. But he dared not call the Baron out. After all, who could justify insulting a man for granting them their own land?

It was while surveying his land with a few friends for the sign of something they could use it that they first found the caves. At first, it seemed like just a hole in the rock, but as they explored it further, they discovered a vast and expansive cavern, the walls lined with rich, untapped veins of iron and silver ore. Baron Kurakav had just granted Jalokivi the richest iron deposit in all Tsunatontu.

When the Baron found out, he was furious. He ordered that Jalokivi give the lands back. Such an act, however, breached their fuedal contract, and Jalokivi found himself backed by an unlikely coalition of peasants, merchants and nobles alike. Kurakov had no dependable allies and when the dust settled it was Jalokivi who had won. The greedy Baron was stripped of his titles by the local Count, who granted them to the victorious Jalokivi, before having the traitor executed for his crimes.

Jalokivi had told the story of his father's battle against the foul Kurakov many times. It was always a crowd pleaser. It was his mines that kept the Tsunatontu armies armed, his iron that made up the blades of the peasants' ploughs. And now, with this new deal with the far-off Amazons, it would be his iron the King would be buying in bulk to send to them for gold.

He knew he shouldn't be bitter. He was being paid for his services, after all. But he knew how politics worked. The Count demanded a large portion of the iron be kept back for his purchase, and took the lion's share of any profits the Baron made beyond that. The Duke, in turn, did the same to the Count, and the King to the Duke. A clever system. In theory, in meant all the nobles were paid according to their station. In practice, it meany whenever there was a deal like this one, almost all the gold went to the King, the Duke and the Count, while the Baron, the one actually producing all the iron, saw barely a trickle of the profits. All around him where other Barons desperate to get a slice of the action - if he dared oppose even the Count, he would find no support amongst his peers. Opposing the King? Out of the question. He simply had to grit his teeth and smile as his money found its way into other people's coffers.

It had been a clear, dry night and the Baron had been planning on having a quiet night in. He and his top lieutenants were in his manor's smoking room, decanting some bitter Sima and playing a few games of chess when a messenger arrived at the door.

"So sorry to bother you, M'lord, but a most important guest has arrived at the door. You'll want to greet him personally, sir"

Who could it possibly be? The count? The duke, mayhap? The Baron got up and went to go see.

The figure standing at the door was dressed in a dark riding cloak, but he could not hide the fine quality of his clothing. He wore little jewellery, but his hair was long and he had no beard, a sure sign of his noble status. One glance at his hip, at the gem-encrusted haft of his saber, told the Baron this was no petty lord like himself. But it was only as he let him in that he caught sight of the signet ring on his finger.

"I hate to disturb you at such a time of night" said Prince Iyiiro "But I have an important proposition for you that simply cannot wait until we next happen to meet by chance."

The Baron bowed deeply "Why, my lord, it is no disturbance at all! Please, come, sit by the fire! Tis a biting cold night, and you must have travelled far!"

The lieutenants were dismissed from the smoking room as the Baron's servants fetched the Prince a bottle of the good Sima. Once the formalities were out the way and both men had a glass, the Baron finally asked what it was that brought the royal son all the way out here.

The Prince did not answer immediately. "It is a shame that you should live in such a small manor, Baron. Your mines are the lifeblood of bith our armies and our farmers, yet you live in the kind of home any good merchant could buy."

The Baron's answer was even "It is a home befitting of my station, my lord"

"Oh, I meant no disrespect. It is a fine place, filled with fine people." The Prince responded. "But a man of your importance should not be content with merely 'fine'. 'Fine' is for the businessman, for the man who has made his money and is content not to make any more. 'Fine' is for the retired man, who wants somewhere cozy to live out the rest of his days. But you, good Baron... 'fine' is far too low for a man of your stature"

"I hope you did not travel from the capital merely to pass judgements on the suitability of my house" the Baron raised an eyebrow.

The Prince shook his head "Of course not. In fact, I come with a deal. One that I think may interest you greatly"

The Baron had not been the most active participant in politics. But even he could not fail to notice the air of conspiracy that seemed to hang in the air. "Go on..."

"As I'm sure you're aware, we still have lands that belong to our people in the hands of a foreign power. Our people, toiling under strangers. Tyrants exploiting our brothers and sisters for their own selfish ends. This needs to stop."

"My lord, we are already preparing for war. A border guard has been set up, my workers are pulling double shifts..."

The prince interrupted "We are ready for the war, Baron. Yet the King... My father... He continues to dither. He shows no spine when it comes to reclaiming our ancestral lands. It is as though he does not wish to go to war"

The Baron sat and thought for a moment. If the Prince was saying what he thought he was saying... "I'm sure His Majesty is simply preparing for every eventuality"

"Or waiting for a way out." The prince noted wryly. "I can see no reason why he shows hesitation. He has the men, the weapons, the support... Now he seems determined to fritter away our steel on consorting with... Savages."

The baron winced. The trade had been a sore spot for him. Not that he disagreed with it, but it was supposed to enrich them all. But he had gained nothing. If he, a noble, had not seen any major changes, then what would the peasants gain? This was a deal that only benefitted the King.

"You think we shouldn't have traded with the Amazons?" Asked the Baron.

"I think that decision should have been left in the hands of the man who's iron is being traded, not the King." Said the Prince. "Especially with the war coming. It shows that, once again, Father cares only about his own wallet and not his subjects - noble or common."

Yes. It was hard to find fault with the young Prince's words. Harsh as he sounded, everything he said was true. "So what do you hope to do?"

"I want to force his hand. Find out where his loyalties truly lie." The Prince looked down at his glass, trembling with... Fury? Anticipation? Nerves? It was hard to say. "I am gathering as many true patriots of Tsunatontu as I can. On my own, i have had no luck convincing the King to abandon his avarice and think of the people. He thinks, because of our ancestry, that ypu will remain loyal to him no matter what he does. He would sacrifice our nation to satisfy his own greed, and he expects us all to go along with it."
"Thats not going to happen. If I can gather enough men, enough nobles like yourself, to back me up, maybe tigether we can show him that Tsunatontu is not his personal playground. Maybe we can show him he can't do what he wants. And maybe we can force him to start this war and bring justice to our brothers and sisters across the border."

"And if he doesn't listen to us?"

The Prince smiled thinly. "Then I need enough men to help me throw a tyrant off his throne."

The Baron needed a moment to think. Moving against the King like this... Was that not treason? If anyone knew they even had this talk, his neck would be in the chopping block. And yet everything the Prince had said was true. The King had overstepped his authority by using the Baron's mines. The very fact the Count could reserve iron without paying for it was an affront to the Baron's authority. These were his lands, dammit! Why was he forced to sacrifice what he and his workers had achieved to fund some foreigners adventures?

But could he trust the Prince? "What will you have me do?"

"Just give me your word that when the time is right, you will back me up. Whether that be with words or with steel."

Seemed simple enough. "And what do I have to gain from this?"

"You mean other than greater autonomy, control over your own mines and a guarantee that any profits you make, you keep?" The prince smiled a little wider "Its no secret you're the only real moneymaker in the county - no, the duchy. You should have a title that fits your power"

Increased authority in his owm lands, more money and a new title? It seemed almost too good to be true. With minimum committment, the Baron could do for his children whatnhis father had done for him. He could leave behind a legacy he could be proud of - and change the shape of Tsunatontu politics forever.

"Alright. You have my support, my Prince."

As the Prince offered a profound thanks, the Baron finished his Sima. Soon, he thought, soon the time would come where his contributions would finally be recognised. With the Prince on the throne, he would finally earn what he was rightfully due.