“It is what you choose to be, not all you are to be. Do you wish for that to be your sole purpose? Would you rather carve something more out? I am open to talk.”

Never before had it occurred to Aurora that she might actually have some choice in the manner in which she lived. All she had been taught, all she had seen had been an attempt to break such behaviors and expectations… and now here she was being offered a choice. The concept took her completely by surprise leaving her more than a little off-balance mentally.

Such thoughts were quickly pushed away as Zakroti’s tone shifted, turning her sense of suffering back onto herself. He all but accused her and her family of submitting to the same cowardice the royal courts had the very first time Drakka came for their women. The man was not entirely wrong, his sentiments somewhat a mirror to her own private thoughts. Too long have her people handed over their girls like they were nothing, going so far as to breed them for such purposes depending on the region. To lose a daughter was an expectation from the moment she is born into the motherland.

But to have him pin those same sentiments upon her family, couldn’t be further from the truth. They were among the minority in their homeland, the closest any Gem would come to inciting true violence against another living creature. While the rest of the country tried to teach them to be obedient and docile, Pyrus taught them to be strong and independent. Devout followers of the fire god knew him to be a mighty protector of his sisters and children, a great force that did all he could to keep the evil at bay. In another world, the Liesma’s might have turned out to be warriors themselves… filled to the brim with a fiery fighting spirit. But no such thing was allowed in the world they did live in, no fist was to be raised against those that might otherwise destroy them. Aurora despised it.

She wished to speak out but knew it not to be the time, sipping at the bitter liquid with the slightest hint of a wince. It wasn’t bad, but it was held a bite she was not accustomed to quite yet. Aurora sat and listened to the man’s explanation with intense concentration as if seeking any hint of a lie or misdirection. If there were any falsehoods, she could not detect them from the sound of his voice and all of his words were confirmed by the shivering girl beside him who could clearly see the events playing out before her.

So, the man responsible is already dealt with. A fitting end to a miserable life. A part of her resented the fact that she would not be witness to the downfall of her sister’s murderer, as nearly all the parties involved were either dead or worse off… but she had to respect the way things were handled. Her sister had been avenged and sent home, perhaps the man was not entirely bad after all. She turned her eyes downward toward her drink, staring into the dark liquid as Zakroti delivered the rest of his apology to the young girl. Pausing to gather her thoughts, Ro finally spoke up, though, her eyes remained glued to the goblet in her hands.

“Knowing my sister… there was little you could have done in order to stop her from interfering. The moment she became your bride and found herself part of your group, your fights became hers as well. Few Gemmenites are willing to pick up a blade, far fewer willing to take one for another.” Aurora sighed, setting the goblet down on the table softly as she glanced out across the room. For the first time since she had left home, Aurora’s demeanor had become calm and relaxed; the smallest hint of a smile hiding behind her features.

“I cannot deny what you have said about my people for it seems you and I share similar views. Our land is built upon tradition and old customs, a chain that binds us to a government that would act without considering the will of the people in its charge. We have no army to speak of, even the palace guards are little more than decorations. Those that reject the old ways are cast out and abandoned, a prosperous country ruled by fear… what a joke we are.” Glancing beside her, Aurora raised her eyes to meet Zakroti’s as she continued speaking.

“My family has been on the bad side of the royals for generations, once a part of the inner circle we are now treated like liabilities. They think our views and our reluctance to remain pacifistic a threat that will destroy an entire country… and maybe they’re right. For when your people came and took my sister each and every friend and neighbor we had stood by and watched, but not my brother. The eldest, he charged the man who had his hands on her knowing full well that no one would have his back and that he very well might lose his life. Still he charged that Reaper without hesitation while our other brother stood as my shield.”

“Throughout the entire ordeal the Reapers had been eyeing my mother and making comments about how it was a shame they missed her in her prime. Others claimed they could find a taker for her if they took her anyway. My father could not leave her side for fear of losing her. That day we learned how powerless we really were. Luckily my brother was spared but the man’s threats of violating my mother while forcing us to watch shut us down. Kasari was dragged away and thrown in a cage kicking and screaming, the last image we would have of her until you sent her back to us.”

“It was the same men who returned when I was old enough to be eligible, my mother collapsed from the stress of it all and my brother had to physically hold the other back from charging the man that took me. The consequences were far too great to face alone… we are the few whose wants and desires are far outweighed by the needs of the many. It is the way it has always been, and for now… will continue to be.” She allowed her eyes to drop once again, fingers wrapping around the goblet and lifting it to her lips. For them at least.

Aurora probably have gone on forever, so much tension built up in such a tiny package… it was a wonder how she hadn’t exploded yet. However, she would fall into silence and remain there as a messenger made his way into the hall and toward Zakroti. In his hands he carried what appeared to a be a letter that was opened and read immediately upon its arrival. It seemed that whatever the letter contained was less than pleasing to the man, his features betraying what she thought to be disappointment. Her curiosity pushed at her to inquire about its contents, however, most of her spark had died down by this point. Finishing her drink, Aurora excused herself and retreated to her room opting to leave the rest of her questions for another time.

Zakroti’s words ate at the girl, picking away at her mind for the remainder of the day. At some point, Aurora had been summoned from her room to accompany Zakroti and his company around the city she had been delivered to. While it was an interesting experience, she found herself more preoccupied with her thoughts than anything else. The conversation over breakfast had brought up more than she had bargained for or had come to expect. Had she really been offered a choice to become something other than just a mere servant? Considering how her sister died, the concept didn’t seem all that far fetched… she just couldn’t understand why.

Despite the lawless nature of Drakka, it still appeared to have customs and rules of its own. One such rule was that her people could not hold any sort of standing… they were looked at like commodities to be bought and sold, the thought that one might actually care for them was… unsettling. But this was a chance, and opportunity for Aurora to live the way she felt was right. Gemmenia could no longer hold her back. She would have been lying if she said the idea was less than appealing.

On the return trip home, Aurora found herself weighed down by the new clothes she had picked out. Nothing too fancy, but it now gave her a nice variety of comfortable clothes to wear about. It helped her feel more at ease to have casual garments, almost feeling normal for the first time in a very long time. One of the servants or guards, she honestly could not tell the difference, had attempted to help her carry the items but she had resisted quite aggressively until they had backed off. It wasn’t until she had returned to her room to drop off her new belongings when a thought popped into her head.

To be honest, it surprised even her. She had little idea of where it came from but what she did know is the very thought filled her with a new sense of purpose and determination. If anyone thought she had pushed her luck as far as it would go, they would sure be appalled by what she was about to do. Turning on her toes, Aurora swung her door open with a fury as she took off running down the hallway; her bare feet slapping against the cold stone.

As it was just about dinner time, Aurora zoomed around the corner to poke her head into the dining area they had been in earlier in the day. Unfortunately, the person she was looking for didn’t seem to be in the room quite yet, causing her to swing about wildly. She knew next to nothing about the layout of the estate, running down corridors at near random searching for Zakroti.

“It is what you choose to be, not all you are to be.”

You dare to tell me that my position here is not set in stone?

“Do you wish for that to be your sole purpose? Would you rather carve something more out?”

No! I refuse to be some trophy or decoration to be added to a collection. I will not be some man’s pet!

”I am open to talk.”

Aurora sped around yet another corner, only this time instead of being met with a long empty hallway… she ran face first into one of Zakroti’s personal guard. Her new husband was rather lucky she had not take the turn a few inches shorter otherwise she would have barreled right over him and sent them both tumbling to the ground. Instead, she looked up at Zakroti from her place on the ground, a half-wince half-determined look plastered to her face.

Prove it.

“I want you to teach me to fight proper!” She stated bluntly, chest heaving for any amount of air it could find.

CONTENT WARNING: The following paragraph, placed within the hider, hints heavily towards certain sexual acts without consent. Reader's discretion is adviced.



Keregar gathered his Gems an hour later. They were late sure, but it didn’t sound as if they’d made a problem of something. Xaelia though, she was dressed in different clothes. Maybe something happened to hers. He’d ask, but there were more important things to do. Outside Varzar was tending to the horses and Keregar had business with his youngest son. “You did what I asked.” Varzar couldn’t look his father in the eye. There was still as swirling mess inside of him. Like he wanted to puke, or attack his father, or stab himself. Any of those options felt like it would make him feel a better pain. Yet he tried to kept his calm, even though the aversion on his face was really clear. “Yes. I did.” But Keregar didn’t have enough. “What did you do?” With a fierceness that appeared increasingly more frequent Varzar turned to his father. He stared in the dark, demanding eyes of his father. But Keregar, the veteran warlord knew what he wanted to know. “I slapped her. You happy with that? I slapped one of your brides.” He said, before turning away again. Keregar released a grunt of approval.

“We move!” Keregar announced. His brides were ushed each on a horse. Though the saddle was made for Drakkan, not the delicate form of a Gem. They quickly reached the busy streets. But unlike some, Keregar would not seek refuge in the shaded, calmer alleys. No, he was a warlord and would act like it. In front of the horses a vanguard of five heavily armored Drakkan marched. Two of them were the twins. Gleefully pushing anyone out of the way who didn’t move fast enough. One person tried to make a problem out of it. As he yelled and complained, he was thrown to the side. Keregar barely looked at him. This was a common theme. Keregar didn’t care for the common plebs beneath his sight and his sons cared even less. A few Drakkan and other creatures trying to peddle their wares in the busy streets were knocked over our away. There was a certain tension in the air forming around them.

Upon reaching the main market, the whole caravan halted and everyone dismounted. The horses were tied to a post with two guards near them. “Varzar, Nadia, Xaelia. Here.” The Warlord beckoned the others. “My son. You did good.” He said as he handed him a pouch that had a very obvious, clear clinging inside of it. “Use it all.” He whispered to Varzar. Then he turned to his brides. “We are going to wander the market. If you see anything you want, clothes or jewels or whatever you like, you tell me.” With those words the slow crawl around the market began.

”If you would have what is mine, then bare steel and come take it from me.”
The way the words were said chilled her to the bone, but also in a strange way made her feel a stirring in her heart. He would fight for them. It wasn’t love, but it was value at least. They must mean something for him to risk his life. Otherwise he would just hand them over and get other brides at a later time.

Amalia’s heart was in her throat as he was surrounded. There was nothing she could do without getting in the way...
A dirty hand suddenly shot into the carriage. She had been so focused on Wilhelm that she hadn’t seen the injured man coming towards them. She screamed as his hand latched onto her wrist, trying to pull her from the carriage. He snarled at her, yanking harder as she grabbed on to a piece of the carriage and held on. He yanked her free and spun her to face him, his arm going around her waist to attempt to toss her over his shoulder. In a rush of panic Amalia struck with her other hand, her nails scratching his face.

In more shock than pain, not expecting a Gem to fight back, the man loosened his grip on her wrist to touch his face. Amalia shoved him, trying anything to get away. She scrambled back into the carriage only to have him grab her ankle, jerking her back towards him.
“Bitch cunt!” He shouted angrily.

Amalia screamed again, kicking at him, fighting like a wildcat. She managed to land a kick in his injured shoulder, making him howl in pain.
Suddenly the man stopped. The only thing that Amalia could register was the blood.
So much blood...

"Qeynate shantoz fus-gua-e-jyl lali a an lok kala Welebak, esh a Kalderas. Gehdzi sepoz grunis an hame e an Ptaz e as thul geh shantaoz - arat! [Qeynate took 1020 warriors from the 5th to Welebak, north of Kalderas. They cut through the land and the Ptaz and by dawn he took - poison!]" Zakroti was cut off and cursed as Aurora came around the corner and ran straight into the armoured blackguard, collapsing back onto the floor. He had been explaining the contents of the letter to Miry and to the blackguard whose counsel he trusted deeply, yet was barely a sentence in when Aurora arrived. Handing the letter off to Narlemaewel and being quite shocked by Aurora's sudden appearance around the corner, Zakroti reached for his blade, suspecting she was fleeing from something. His mind instantly leapt to Aymiria and he subconsciously moved slightly to the left to shield her from whatever might be following - then when Aurora spoke, he relaxed a little and moved his hand away again and his brows raised even higher. He offered her a hand up as she finished speaking "Are you alright?"

Gaikus, whom Aurora had ran into, had recovered from stumbling back a step and peered down to the Gem with keen eyes, as if sizing her up. He glanced between the two and let out a slight grunt. Narlemaewel put the letter away and took a few steps forwards, nodding to Gaikus and cocking a brow beneath his helmet as he examined Aurora.

"You want me to teach you how to fight?" Zakroti said with a somewhat bemused smile, glancing over towards Aymiria for a few moments and examining her before looking back to Aurora. Miry's opinion would likely rule the day here, truth be told, he trusted her deeply and sought her opinion where possible. It was for that reason, and comfort, that he had just begun explaining what the letter entailed to her "What do you think, Miry, oeiz aigz?"

"Why is that?" Gaikus asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. Zakroti nodded as if to affirm the question; it seemed a rare act indeed for a bride. Then again, after what she had told him earlier about her family, the Liesmas were not quite the ordinary Gems. He could believe it, having experienced first hand her sisters stubbornness. He paused, considering it carefully; she could become something more of a risk if she knew how to fight, he supposed, but then what could she really do against the majority of his soldiers? If she were to kill him personally, that would be simple enough whether she was trained or not, merely a matter of catching him off guard. And conversely, would it not perhaps be useful? If there was another incident such as that with Lugft or a siege of some description, her being somewhat capable of defending herself would certainly be a plus.

Of course, there was a lot to consider. After what had happened with Aery, he was cautious about the prospect. He'd have to make sure on her mental state first; if she was liable to panic, more awful things might happen. And the truth was that discipline made warriors what they were, you can't fight if you're running around in terror like a headless chicken. Still, if he were to explain that too her and make sure that she understood, it probably wouldn't cause too much damage - and they certainly seemed to be getting along better now that she had heard him out, even if this was odd behaviour for a Gem. Teaching her might help to cement such a change away from antagonism, which would be much more desirable than going back to it because he refused her. Zakroti glanced to Gaikus and then to Narlemaewel to seek their silent counsel, them both giving silent nods of affirmation. He'd wait for Miry's input before making a final decision on this matter.

"When you say fight proper, I assume you mean with weapons of some description? Well, I suppose the answer is the same either way. Though Gems have a significant shortfall of strength, it can be done. It is likely for the best that it is so; Drakka is far from an orderly realm, infighting is not uncommon. We shall encounter more than a few brutes and monsters in our time together I can assure you of that, and we may have cause to dispatch of a few of them as well. Naturally I shall endeavour to keep yourself and Aymiria out of harms way and away from such individuals- and I typically endeavour to avoid it myself where possible - yet it is possible that on occasion we shall not have that luxury. Indeed, sometimes they might bring their fight to us as was the case with Lufgt. If that should occur, it shall be beneficial for you to be able to defend yourself." Zakroti said with some degree of apprehension. He moved a little close to Aymiria when he spoke about that night, linking his arm with hers gently. The occasional conflict was unavoidable in Drakka, though he imagined he would be able to keep the two Gems out of harms way for most such battles. Then again, he had thought that with Kasari and look how that turned out in the end so perhaps it was not wise to be so sure of himself and with some conflicts foreseeable in the near future and with Drakka being on a knife edge given the kings advanced age and the schism that was developing between his children...

He took a step forwards towards Aurora before continuing in an approving tone "If more of the Gems had you and your families spirit, this arrangement might not exist. I confess that I am grateful that is not the case, else I would not have met Aymiria. You'd need a weapon, of course; most Drakken arms aren't really fit for your stature, the arms of our Kalderan auxiliaries would be too short. A problem I myself have faced, as you likely understand. Perhaps one of mine; we'll find something sufficient."

Zakroti took a few steps past Aurora towards the hall with his arm still linked through Aymiria's, motioning with his free hand for Aurora and his guardsmen to continue following him as he took off down the corridor towards the hall, talking to her as they walked through the stone halls.

"I'll tell you something - it might sound pretentious, it might just seem common sense to you, but you'd be surprised how easily it is forgotten. Fighting takes patience, discipline and intelligence. Self-Control, emotional balance, your state of mind, all of it is more important than any physical element. You have to think quickly and clearly; You're not just fighting a physical battle, you're fighting a mental one too - and that mental one is vital. Drakken or Gem, strong or weak, big or small, we're all flimsy sacks of meat that bleed quickly when you stick a sword in. Now matter how strong you are, it can all be over in a matter of seconds, any mistake can be fatal. It sounds easy - but it's not. All too often in a fight, the inexperienced aren't thinking straight. They're angry or scared or just acting on instinct, or they're all three. Once the fighting starts, once you realise your life is at risk, once something hits you and injures you, once you watch someone else die - all of that can unbalance you and panic you. Sometimes so much so you turn and run or just freeze up and do nothing at all."

Zakroti opened up the door to the hall and as he stepped through into the hall, he motioned to the soldiers gathered around the tables, eating from the food the servants had brought out. He stood just inside the door and to the right, pointing to the them through the gaps in the pillars that ran down the length of the room

"These drakken are Lali of the West. They don't break ranks and charge like brute barbarians, they hold formation and protect each other even when the odds seem so overwhelming that death is a certainty, they have discipline and unwavering loyalty. That's what makes warriors. Actual warriors, I mean, not some eastern brute who thinks that charging into battle half-armoured or tormenting some whimpering gem girl he earned makes him tough. It takes a long time to instil such into them, but it's vital. If a handful of them were to panic and rout, the formation would be compromised. It makes a weakness for the enemy to exploit, an opening - and if they press that opening, the battle is lost. The same principle applies to fighting as a single person; if you lose that discipline and panic even for a moment, if you are either too timid or too aggressive, you leave yourself open for but a second and then..." Zakroti snapped his fingers and shook his head slowly "If you want to learn how to fight then you need to know that first, above all. When you fight, you need a clear head. It doesn't matter how much I teach you, if you aren't in control of your own head then it'll all slip out like water in a sieve once the fighting starts. Your brother, charging alone at a reaper? Brave, yes, but there was no one to have his back and the circumstances were heavily stacked against him, as you say it's something of a miracle that he wasn't punished or killed as a result of it. In fury, he opened himself up - and that can be costly, especially against a stronger opponent. I don't know the details, I don't know if he could have done anything differently or in a way that might have worked better, of course - but in that moment, with all those thoughts flowing through his head, the anger and the desire to rescue his sister I wonder whether he knew either? Perhaps if he had, he would have thought of something - sadly, I suspect the disloyalty of your fellow Gems likely rendered his attempt futile no matter what method he might have tried. Perhaps one day they'll wake up and fight back, certainly I'll welcome that day."

"But if you can do that, if you can stay strong and keep a level head even when your life is at risk or something you care about is dying before your eyes - then I'd be able to teach you. Just like we taught my wards, my nieces and nephews." Zakroti finished and turned to face her. He took a few steps backwards so he was standing in front of the fresco and he looked her up and down quickly, examining her steadily and trying to read her body language. "If Miry thinks it a wise choice as well then I shall do it; I trust he counsel on any matter. If so, when and where do you want to start?"

The rest of the day passed far slower than Bree would have liked. The lateness of the day was marked by the ever growing shadows around the group, the sun already beginning to set by the time they made their way toward their destination. Between the shopping and Kagan’s ridiculous insistence on walking everywhere, the short trip to the Royal Palace swiftly turned into a tedious one.

Fatigue came much quicker to a being that spent very little time near deserts of any kind, each step forward more grueling than the last. Bree’s mouth felt dry and her skin had collected a film of invisible particles of sand that she couldn’t dust off; rubbing her raw with every move she made. As if that weren’t irritating enough for the young girl her stomach ached with hunger and the smaller puppy nipped at her ankles, pouting at the fact that it had been put down soon after leaving the market.

After what felt like months of walking the group finally approached the castle, though the term was one she used lightly. It wasn’t exactly wrong, now that she saw it in the light, though castles back home appeared dainty in comparison to the hulking structure they hiked toward. The Palace seemed unapproachable with its high walls and armed guards posted all over the place, yet that didn’t stop Kagan from marching right up to it anyway.

Much to her surprise, however, Kagan didn’t lead them in through the front doors they had used the night before. Instead the trio turned to move around the side of the building until they reached a secondary door guarded by a single hulking monster of a Drakkan. The scowl the man wore was sharp enough to cut a fly clean in half and for a moment Bree believed that he might just prove it for poking their noses where they didn’t belong. Rather than dealing with them, the guard turned away as if disinterested and opened the door for them to enter through.

Awaiting their arrival was a loosely dressed figure that could have passed for a young man had it not been for the growing bump around her stomach. Her face tightened as she appraised the two standing before her, eyes running them over from head to toe.

“Well that didn’t take long.” The woman said after a moment, eyes locking on to Bree’s midsection. Bree fought the urge to cover her stomach with her arms, opening her mouth to respond.

“And you’re still alive.” She continued on, giving Bree no time to speak as she addressed Adorabella.

“ Twen, arm’s length away.]” The guard barked, reaching out to grab her arm and pull her back in closer to him.

“ The prince is waiting for them in one of the dining rooms, we best not keep him waiting.” He followed up, saying no more as he lead the group along.




“I was beginning to wonder about your directional skills.” Ehkota spoke up as the trio entered the room. His eyes immediately ficked down to the Gems and the small beasts trailing behind them. It would have been an understatement to say that the prince was surprised to see them, especially for what he was being asked to do. Personally he would have preferred them to stay behind. The less who witnessed the unfolding events the safer he would be when his brother found out. Still, Ehkota maintained his nonchalant composure and welcomed the group into the large side room.

“I was not aware that kinning was a family affair.” He raised an eyebrow at the man, nodding his head in the direction of his companions.

Bree’s eyes had to adjust to the relative darkness of the room as there were no windows to allow natural lighting. The only thing keeping the shadows at bay were a few lit sconces and a fireplace off to the side. To say it was eery was selling the vibe short.

“Kagan, you must be famished. Please, join me.” The table in the center of the room was fairly large, certainly large enough for the whole group, however only two chairs had been set… clearly neither were meant for the Gems who tagged along. Bree could barely contain her groan of displeasure as she realized she would very likely be forced to stand for the duration of their meeting. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the guard and the Gem disappear into another room, returning after a few moments with a tray in the girl’s hands.

Ehkota took the seat facing the door motioning for Kagan to take the one opposite his position. The prince’s bride set down a mug filled with some kind of ale before her husband before walking over to place an identical mug before the empty seat. Returning to Ehkota’s side, the girl bowed her head to and settled in to await further instructions.

“History is to be made this night, my friend. Are you prepared to be on the right side of it?” The prince cooed, picking up the mug and taking a drink from it whilst looking expectantly at his guest. Just the mere thought of what was to come sent shivers down his spine, he could taste the victory he long sought after. The look on his brother’s face when he realized his position as next king was no longer safe was all Ehkota needed to make his efforts worth the price.

Waiting so long for the driver to return was beginning to bug Onyx, but as soon as their party was whole again she let the worries flutter off in the wind. She only saw the brief conversation between the two men from the window of the carriage, but it sure seemed like Wilhelm wasn't happy with what was said. After, he came over to the carriage to check on her and Amalia, to tell them the road was blocked and that they were likely going to be attacked on their new route.

"Keep your eyes and ears open, and should anything appear out of the ordinary or suspicious, you will notify me immediately. Is that clear?" Onyx nodded as he finished, and began watching out the window more as they started moving again. She couldn't help the stories she'd read with similar scenarios popping into her mind. Bandits blocking the road just to make their heist easier, as if that wasn't a huge red flag to any traveller already.

Thus far, the carriage ride was a bit more comfortable than the one to shadow worth, despite the painfully slow pace they now had going through the marsh. Maybe it was because she knew her companion this time? Onyx glanced over at Amalia as her sister called out the window to their husband. She looked nervous- and while Onyx had no doubt that she looked the same, she still she felt she had to try and say something to keep Amalia calm.

"Don't worry." She started quietly, forcing a small smile onto her face. "Wilhelm won't let anybody hurt us-" As soon as she'd said it an arrow came through the window and landed with a thud in the wall beside Amalia. bright red blood began dripping down Amalia's neck from a cut on her ear, and the both of them screamed as they realized what was happening.

seconds later, Onyx heard what she could vaguely recognise as fighting outside the carriage. Glancing out the window she could see flashes of steel, and the familiar smell of blood in the air made her heart race. just as suddenly as the arrow had struck, someone reached in to grab at her and Amalia, successfully dragging her sister from the carriage. Onyx jumped out after her without hesitating, excitement and adrenaline overpowering her logic and reason. This was a fight! A real, bloody, to-the-death fight.

She watched Amalia kick and scratch at her would-be kidnapper, before she decided she should probably try and help. She knelt down, reaching towards the Drakkan's feet as a prayer ran through her mind and the weeds of the swamp began to move slowly, tangling themselves around their attacker's ankles. Amalia kicked him in the shoulder from her perch back up in the carriage again, and he went down, unable to move with his tied feet.

Onyx scrambled back up and watched the man bleed out, very obviously enjoying the sight with a half-crazed grin on her face. It took her a minute to realize when the sounds of fighting from the others had stopped, but as soon as she did she snapped back to normal. She looked over at Amalia and then at Wilhelm, wondering what to do first.

"Amalia, are you okay?"

---

Shortly after Varzar stormed out, Kieran appeared, and the words Nadia had just said ran through her mind once again. Being alone with Kieran- for any amount of time- certainly was worse and much more terrifying than a slap to the face. She flinched as he closed the door behind him, wondering what she could possibly do to save herself or Xaelia. As he grabbed Xae and threatened her however, only one thing came to mind. I'm so sorry Xae...

As soon as Kieran had begun cutting Xaelia's clotes off of her again, Nadia acted. "Excuse me. I've lost my appetite." She said quietly, skirting out the door as quickly as she could before Kieran could try to stop her. She ran down the halls until she found her way back to the room she and Xaelia had stayed the night in, locking herself in for good measure in case the second-youngest had attempted to follow her instead of...

I'll apologize to Xaelia later. She made up her mind as she quickly changed out of her pajamas and put on a nice but simple dress with a pair of trousers on underneath. As she left the room to go to the courtyard again, she considered the threat Kieran had given. Surely, Keregar wouldn't let him get away with killing Xaelia if Nadia did tell him what happened, right? But then, would she even be able to tell Keregar?

- - - - -

At the market, Nadia struggled to keep her head up. So, instead of looking at the ground, she watched the sky, or focused on the tip of her horse's ears. As they walked through the markets she made a game of it, if only so she wouldn't have to focus on all the Drakken surrounding her and all the horrible feelings she had every time she caught Xaelia's eye.

Eventually the group stopped their parade, and someone helped Nadia down off her horse, placing her roughly on the ground. She muttered a quiet 'Thank you' to the guard before Karegar called her and Xaelia over to him, along with Varzar. The warlord handed Varzar a pouch, and then told her and Xaelia to call out if they wanted Keregar to buy something for them.

They walked together for a full minute before Nadia realized she couldn't avoid Xae anymore- not while walking side-by-side with her anyways. Glancing around at the stalls and their items on display, she decided to say the first thing that came to mind. "This place actually reminds me a lot of the markets I would go to with my father when I was little."

She paused a moment before continuing, watching both Xaelia and Varzar's reactions. "It's not as colorful as those, but there's certainly more color here than I've seen of Drakka so far. I wonder just how many of these items are from other countries I've never even heard of before?" She smiled at the thought. "The markets back home only ever traded in things from other parts of Gemmenia."

Kagan remained silent as Ehkota waltzed his way through his thoughts, only emitting a brief and disinterested grunt at the offer to eat as he took the seat opposite to Ehkota. He laced his fingers tightly together, never once letting the sour grimace of priesthood fall while the young prince talked to himself. This was the third time the man had ‘spoken’ with him, and it was as one sided a conversation as ever. Finally he received permission to respond, the Prince cooing brightly as he spoke of ‘making history’ and eying the kinner like he was about achieve sexual congress. The sudden, but slight, shudder that reverberated through the prince really did not help the mental image.

Not wanting to let his chance to actually TALK go out the window, Kagan calmly sat up in his chair. ”With due respect your highness.” He starts, voice cutting calm and cold against the royals trill excitement. ”Neither the church nor myself have any interest in the politics of history. Modern or otherwise. I am only here because, based on analysis of your request and fringe instances of religious cannon, that you’ve some-” he pauses for a moment, leaning forward slowly and locking eyes with the prince.

”And do permit me to emphasize the fringe nature of that Some; legimate claim to our services.” He reaches behind himself slowly, eyes taking note as the guard’s muscles tensed tightly before his brain registered what the Kinner had grabbed for. Kagan places a small worn leather bound notebook on the table, opening to a dog eared page with fresh notes scrawled on it before slowly sliding it to Ehkota for inspection.

”To abridge the explanation: Within the canon there is the Case of the Brothers Harkim. Similar circumstances, Elder brother not permitting the kinning of his elderly mother due to an inability to let go, younger brother seeking to circumvent the direct heir requirement.” He says in a quick, almost pointedly disinterested voice. The actual story was, frankly, a lot more eloquent than Kagan was making it sound. But part of him was pretty sure the artistry of a five page explanation of the brothers heritage and upbringing would likely bore the prince.

”Eventually the younger Harkim did find a wandering Kinner willing to perform the ceremony for him, on the condition that the younger issue a formal challenge to claim his brothers position. The argument being that, during such challenges, neither son stands above the other until proven otherwise. However, it is notable that if the younger brother fails, the kinner promises that both he and his mother will be shamed in death. Their bones and blood used in macabre mockeries of their honor while their entrails are yadda yadda.” Kagan says, crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair.

”The shaming requirements actually go on for a couple of pages after that.” he shrugs, not really wanting to explain the violations of orifices, egregious amounts of blood, and or implications about what would be done with the brain. ”At any rate, the younger agrees and then succeeds in his challenge. Becoming the direct heir and saving his mothers dignity in death. Everyone enjoys a happy ending and we enjoy a parable stressing the importance of performing Kinnings on family to avoid unnecessary challenges and messy familial conflict.”

”In short sir…” Kagan says, locking eyes with Ehkota once more and attempting to glare a hole into the mans soul. ”Should you agree to the same terms, I will be obligated to perform the ceremony in the same fashion. However, I do encourage you consider this option with care. This is not an exception the church is going to take lightly, and a considerable schizm WILL be its result.”

Kagan waits a moment, allowing Ehkota to mull his choice over undisturbed or ask questions before moving onto the subject of payment. Frankly, he was hoping the Drakken would decide the risk is not worth his time and back away. He’d have to challenge his brother either way, so why run the risk of eternal shame on death? Maybe once his optimism would pay off….he doubted it. Never did.

"Sera, what do you think?"

Sera turned to the familiar voice of her sister bride calling her name. Zeldria was holding two different cloaks and looked unsure of what one to pick. One was grey, almost silver, and the other was a darker grey resembling the gloomy sky on a cold and rainy winter night. She could care less which cloak Zeldria picked having little interest in clothing items herself but was curious as to why, all of a sudden, Zeldria was engaging her when the girl had clearly been scared of her since they arrived at the Evrenarth manor.

With a heavy sigh Sera chose to humour her sister for the time being and took a few small steps toward her. The fair skinned Gem raised a finger and began to point back and forth between the two cloaks while silently speaking to herself. Her finger landed on the silver cloak in a final ‘mo’

”That one” Sera chose matter of factly even though her decision was based on pure luck.

From where she stood she could tell her sister was a bit anxious having asked her the question she did. Sera wondered if she had meant to. All of the scared people in her life had dared not speak to her but instead ridiculed her in fear from a distance.

Freak. Abomination. Monster.

Sera quickly looked away from Zeldria, careful to hide the pain in her eyes. Without looking back at her sister she wandered away from her and back to her husband’s side. Zeldria was a bitter reminder of a past she was desperate to run away from, or turn to ash. Sera’s hand tightened into a fist as a flood of memories came pouring in.

There she was, in a crowd just like the one on the streets of Železna Kri. All of the people had surrounded her, their words spitting venom in her direction. She was collapsed on the ground in the center of the circle, her hands tightly holding her head tucked in as close to her body as humanly possible. Tears rolled down her face in an uncontrollable manner as she wept with each tongue lashing.

Please… please help me…

Sera’s hand began to radiate heat until she was jolted into reality when a massive force ran into her, knocking her to the ground. Sera looked up at the Drakkan that had knocked her, he was running toward a crowd of people who were tossing each other around and shouting. The street fight was growing in size and ferocity as most onlookers were quick to join in, each one more aggressive than the last. Gruelling shrieks of pain echoed through the laneways as weapons were drawn and sought blood. In a mere matter of seconds, a full on brawl consumed the street.

The trip to wherever she was had gone largely unnoticed by Lienna, who had spent the ride drifting in and out of a sleep-like state, roused by the occasional painful bump only to drift off into sweet unconsciousness again. Last she remembered, she was on a horse, but when her eyes fluttered open again she was in a stone room, tucked into a soft bed.

As soon as her eyes opened, Lienna closed them again, slowly and carefully rolling onto her side. Her head swam, her body ached, and she was in no mood for surprises. Whatever would come, would come, and that was the start and end of it. She was just grateful for the bed.

Unfortunately, her peace soon ended at the sound of muffled conversation nearby, followed by the opening of a door and a clear voice with a familiar tone.

“My, my…. He certainly did a number on you didn’t he? Curious as he left the other one all but untouched, didn’t strike him for the devoted type. Change of heart, Lienna?”

Lienna's heart sank. Yes, she definitely knew that voice. It was the Drakkan woman from the night before. The one who'd offered them a deal. The bear who had tossed her to the wolves.

Carefully, she sat up in the bed to face the woman, pulling her blankets up over her breasts as she did so. Her eyes felt like they were full of sand, so she could do little more than squint. She caught a glimpse of her arms as she did so, once ivory, now mottled in shades of red, blue and green. They'd only get worse before they got better.

"Nothing has changed," she croaked, looking away from her arms and towards the woman. "I'm still the slave I was brought here to be, but now presumably in the hands of a new master."

The woman only laughed once, nudging herself gracefully off of the door frame with a sway of her hip as she turned to leave. "Ah, you will be fun," she sighed condescendingly, disappearing down the hall.

The woman wasn't gone a minute before the door was opened again, this time by a girl who looked like nothing Lienna had ever seen before. She wasn't a Drakkan, but she was a far cry from a Gem too. Her legs looked more like a deer's than a Gem' (complete with hooves!) and her tan skin was patterned with brown and mottled with white spots. Long ears protruded from chestnut hair, twisting this way and that at every noise. Lienna could do nothing but stare.

The girl said nothing as she entered, didn't even glance at Lienna as she made a beeline to the dresser. It was then that Lienna noticed just how big everything was. The strange girl wasn't much taller than herself, but the door frame was almost twice her height. Even the dresser against the opposite wall rose to the girl's ribs, whereas a properly sized one would only have reached her hips.

The girl hadn't come empty-handed. In one hand was a ceramic basin filled with fabric, balanced on her hip; in the other was a pitcher. She deposited both on the dresser, picking up the fabric and placing it on the foot of the bed with practiced grace.

"I brought you some clothes," said the girl, unfolding what looked like a tunic, "And there's some warm water if you'd like to wash. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

The girl stood pin-straight, the picture of a proper servant, but she had a queer look in her eyes when she looked at Lienna. A pained, yet knowing look. Lienna could tell she was trying not to look at the bruises on her arms, and she wondered how many Gems the girl had seen in her condition before.

"Where am I?" she asked the girl, completely ignoring the question.

The girl looked towards the hallway. "You're in the Dantanath Estate," she replied. "My name is Alice, I'm one of the household servants."

Lienna nodded. She recognized the name - Dantanath - as the surname of the Drakkan she'd been given to. It must have been him who came for her, probably angry that someone else had claimed his prize. "Who was that woman? I remember her from the Choosing, but why is she here?"

"That's Morganna Dantanath," Alice replied, "She's the sister of Azilon, the man who brought you here."

Lienna nodded again, twisting her covers in her hands, eyes unfocused, trained on some point far away ahead of her. So, she was back with her husband. She supposed she knew what that meant now, if last night had been any indication.

"Thank you, Alice," she said finally, focusing once more on the servant girl, "I hope we might cross paths again."

Alice gave a curt bow of the head. "I expect we will," she replied as she turned to leave, "I'm always around."

"Wait," Lienna called, catching Alice just before she turned down the hall, "I haven't told you who I am."

Alice simply shrugged, with a sad smile. "I suppose it doesn't matter."



Lienna must have drifted off again, because suddenly she was waking up with a horrible crick in her neck from sleeping semi-upright against the wall. With a groan, she let her torso flop forward over her legs, letting her head hang and stretch out the soreness. Of course a hundred other parts of her started hurting when she moved, but she had to start somewhere.

Leaning back once more, she thought long and hard about going back to sleep. Eventually, she decided against it; she may have wanted to disappear and sleep for the rest of her life, but she had to come back to reality sometime. That, and she was starving.

Taking a moment to brace herself, Lienna gingerly swung her legs over the side of the bed, sliding into a sitting position. She had to pause, feet dangling off the floor from the raised-too-high bed for a moment as pain shot through her body. Sitting, it would seem, was particularly uncomfortable.

She took one deep breath to ready herself and slid off the bed, pausing again and leaning against it to stabilize herself. Once she mustered up the courage, she made a beeline for the dresser, where the basin and water awaited her.

She was suddenly conscious of how absolutely disgusting she felt, and the water in front of her seemed like a gift from Naia herself. She dipped a hand right into the pitcher, and was sad to find the water had gone cold.
No matter. She simply placed her hands on the outside of the pitcher and closed her eyes, and it was only a moment before the water was steaming again.

Picking the pitcher up, she moved to fill the basin and noticed something sitting on the bottom of it. A knife, a dagger with a wicked blade and an ornately forged handle. Lienna picked it up, noticing how large it was in her hands, and turned it a few times to see the light shine off the exquisitely polished surface of the blade.

Was this a message? A challenge? She doubted it was Alice who put it there; after all, why would the servants care enough to threaten a bride? Perhaps it had been her husband. A gift, maybe? No, Lienna was sure suicide was too common among Gem brides to present the opportunity so openly. So why the dagger?

She laid it aside on the dresser, deciding to decipher its meaning after she was done. She poured her now-hot water into the basin, halting a moment to let the steam envelop her face. There was a washcloth draped over the side of the basin, but Lienna didn't need it. Closing her eyes, she let the water crawl over her like a snake, scrubbing her every surface clean and warming her like a hug from an old friend. She breathed in the steam, and for a moment she was able to relax. After some time, when the water had gone cold and she decided she'd done enough (she didn't feel clean, but she couldn't just stand there for the days it would take her to get there) she let the water slide back into the basin, leaving her skin perfectly dry and pleasantly moisturized. She was surprised to see the water was about as clear as when she'd started; the way she felt, she expected it to have turned black with filth.

She picked up the knife again, looking it over as she crossed back over to the bed and laying it aside on the covers to see what clothes Alice had brought her. It was a dusty red, sleeveless tunic. The shoulders came to points, secured by little gold clasps. The fabric was lightweight and soft.

Lienna pulled the tunic over her head and walked across the room, where an overly tall mirror rested in the corner. The neckline of the tunic rippled around her breasts like a cowl, just low enough to expose cleavage on a more well-endowed woman than herself. The gold clasps felt cool on her bruised shoulders, and the fabric was light and airy. A gold chain was supplied as well, which Lienna used to tie off the waist, bringing the hem of the tunic up above her knees. There was a draft on her back, and when she turned she noticed the back resembled the front, except that it dipped all the way down to her tailbone. The exposed skin was mottled with bruises, some in the vague shape of large hand prints. Turning back around, she could see fingerprint bruises along her arms and a well-defined hand print around her neck.

She went back to the bed and sat down, picking up the knife once more. The hilt was ornately carved in black metal, with lines of red enamel snaking down the handle. It was then that something clicked in Lienna's mind. It was a weak hunch, but Morganna had been dressed head-to-toe in black and red when she came to check on her. Was this Morganna's knife? From what little Lienna knew of the woman, she seemed to be the type to play with her food before she ate it. Did she intend to mess with Lienna as long as she was with Azilon here?

A soft knock on the door pulled Lienna from her thoughts. It opened to reveal Alice once again, and Lienna hastily hid the knife behind her. "I was sent to come collect you for dinner," said Alice.

Lienna stood quickly, regretting it immediately as her muscles complained. "Thank you, Alice. Will you show me the way?"

"Of course."

As Alice turned, Lienna called some water from the basin to her hand, drawing it into a long point and freezing it to a razor's edge.

Lienna followed Alice through the halls and down some stairs to the main dining hall, where it looked like the family was gathering for dinner. Every step was uncomfortable, alerting Lienna of yet another site of soreness. When she reached the hall, she looked around briefly for Rya; however, when her eyes fell on Morganna, she made a beeling toward her.

Approaching with her back straight and an only slightly hobbling gait, she stopped in front of Morganna and tipped her head in a small bow, holding out the dagger in one open palm.

"I believe this belongs to you," she said, concentrating hard on keeping her tone respectful. Hateful as the woman was, it wouldn't do to disrespect a member of her husband's family. She wanted to garner favour as quickly as possible after the events of the Choosing.

She then produced the razor-sharp icicle in the other hand, adding, "I think you'll find I have no use for such things."

“You better make me enjoy it. Oh and if it wasn’t clear yet, neither of you whisper even a word about this. Or you’ll learn what the definition of Wrath is.”

She didn’t blame Nadia. How could she? What could the Gem have done? Stopped him? Gone for help?

It was easier to pretend it didn’t happen. That she didn’t...that she wasn’t….

That she didn’t walk down the hall to replace the clothing that she lost. That she didn’t scrub her skin raw to get rid of the feeling of Kieran’s hands on her body.

The fact that she didn’t put on every article of clothing she could, if it meant covering her skin just a little bit more.

That she didn’t lay in bed, covered in blankets despite the ever rising temperature.

That it wasn’t the fear that Kieran would remain behind as well that pulled her from her bed when Keregar called.

---------

“We are going to wander the market. If you see anything you want, clothes or jewels or whatever you like, you tell me,”

Xaelia face tightened in pain as she was helped down from the horse. Her walk was careful, slower than usual. The entire time she chose to remain well with in Keregar’s line of vision. Well out of arm’s reach. But Keregar seemed to be the best defense against his hoard.

The group cut through the crowd on foot very much in the same way as the did on horses. Giving very little head towards a space already being occupied if it was the quickest way to their destination. None of the wares drew any real attention from her. Half heartedly reaching out to take hold of something only to drop it a moment later.

She heard someone talking, but the question had already been finished before Xaelia realised that it was Nadia talking and that her words were directed towards her.

“Uh huh,” Said Xae distractedly, her hands vaguely brushing Nadia’s words away, hoping that he answer was enough to placate her.

But she kept talking.

Xae nodded, and made a sound every once in a while, but her vacant expression made it clear that she wasn’t understanding anything that was being said to her.

A small look of longing flashed across Xaelia’s face as they passed an open tent selling foods of every kind. Meat hissed over a grill and fruits hung from long poles. Her mouth open as though she had worked up to courage to ask her husband for something, only to pause, a look of horror filling her face as she pulled her hand back and closed her mouth. The slightly vacant look returning as they passed it by, entering the areas that Nadia had been speaking of before.

There was a commotion nearby, some of the people who had been shoved passed earlier by Keregar’s caravan seemed to think that they would fare better against the war lord now. One of the thugs took a swing at one of the twins.

The battle caught like fire, spreading through the people in the roads, the merchants, she even saw a fair few who had been minding their own business pointedly run down the block to join in the fighting, unconcerned for sides or reasons.

But all that meant for Xae was that Keregar was distracted. That he was far too busy to see anything his children did. She pulled herself back into a tent with every intention of hiding until the fighting ended, only to back straight into a hulking drakkan.

He was younger than Keregar, perhaps slightly older than Kieran. She let out a small noise of fear. “S-sorry,” She turned, caught between the unfamiliar new drakkan and the fighting going on behind her. “I just.. I-Zeldria?” Her eyes focused on the gem standing near the drakkan she bumped into.

It didn’t matter that she had only met the girl once before. It didn’t matter that they weren’t friends or anything.

She was a familiar face. A familiar face that didn’t know anything that had happen.

She lept, tossing her arms around the girl and hugging her close, probably longer than was wanted or needed.

For Zeldria. For Xae it was all needed.

Upon entering the castle she was met with a familiar face. And she looked just as grumpy as when Adora had left her. She smiled lightly at the woman and winked but did not respond. It was not as if it would do much good anyway, the woman would likely just grumble at her. It did not take long for them to get where they were going. Adora did not remember the castle being so dismally gloomy and dark. No carpeting and no tapestries to brighten the halls. In fact, barely much of anything, like candles, to brighten the halls at all. It felt sickeningly cold and she hated it.

Adora found herself walking closely to Bree, but not close enough that she should accidentally touch the other woman. Lest she re-ignite the ire from last night. The dogs seemed to have the same sentiment and kept close to their new masters. Little unsure pets they all were. After what seemed another age of walking they came upon a dimly lit room. And lo, there was the grumpy prince. Adora straightened and put on her best, bedroom smile. She wanted to show the man confidence. Not that he seemed to truly heed anything about the Gems. However, the less reason she gave him for taking her back and killing her the better.

Kagan was offered the delights that one Drakkan might offer another. The Gems stayed with the dogs, just an earshot away. Bringing her eyes to her shoes she listened to the conversation. She had to admit she was not one hundred percent sure as to what the prince was alluding but it sounded rather juicy and dangerous. Her body then stiffened as Kagan began to explain. And while she did not understand all of the little details, she could certainly understand what was being talked about now. Her head popped up and her eyes went wide, looking between the two men.

This was better than that romance novel. But the consequences would be much more real. And deadly.

Hurriedly she looked down again and hope no one had seen her take notice. Would it matter?

As they continued wandering the marketplace, Ineraz bought several supplies that would most likely go to Terva, though he’d have to take some to Kereg-Kor as well if that is where he ended up going. He procured two pairs of riding breeches for his brides, despite the hardships he had finding them in the correct size. At least they were available – unlike the leather Gem-sized armour he hadn’t been able to find. They also made a stop to get Zeldria a cloak of her own, and Ineraz watched on in silence as his brides briefly interacted. He didn’t think they would ever get to be friends but as long as they were decently able to cohabit with each other, he honestly didn’t care too much what their relationship was. Of course, it would be quite interesting if he could get to enjoy them at the same time, but he wasn’t fussy enough to force or even encourage it. Especially not when he thought Sera was warming up to the idea of sleeping with him. Willingly. Ineraz quirked his lips in a small satisfied smile which soon transformed into a grimace as he rolled his shoulders, and the still present blazing pain in his back reminded him that he wouldn’t exactly be fully able of any such activity in the near future.

After this latest purchase, Ineraz led his group onto one of the main streets, and it was as if they had crossed some invisible boundary keeping a war zone from overflowing into the relative tranquility of the usual drakken businesses still operating entirely normally elsewhere. Literally the whole street was involved in some sort of a brawl, Drakken pushing each other, pounding on each other, and plenty with their weapons already drawn were charging whomever was closest. Ineraz scanned the battlefield, and almost instantly noted the Warlord of Kereg-Kor and his well-equipped entourage. The Warlord seemed to be in the centre of the fight, and if Ineraz had to offer a guess, the cause of it. Obviously, the entire street-full of Drakken must have been either addlebrained or drunk enough to believe that they could take on the vastly older and more experienced Drakkan, and win. Just as Ineraz set his right hand on the hilt of his sword with a nasty glare full of distaste directed at the crowd, he saw Sera getting knocked over by some random Drakkan in his periphery. With a feral snarl, Ineraz drew his weapon and slashed at the male. The imbecile had been trying to get to the core of the battle and had been distracted enough to get his leg cut away from him. Idiot. Ineraz felt rather righteous as he stood over the Drakkan, who with a gasp first turned to him then to his profusely bleeding thigh. The felled male looked at him in astonishment, slowly blinking as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Ineraz sneered at him and put him out of his misery. He then flicked his blade in irritation to get most of the blood off and re-sheathed it.

He had to give himself a moment to breathe and calm his flaming back. After that, Ineraz turned to Sera, who was still on the ground, and offered her his hand. When she accepted, he picked her up – almost effortlessly despite his back trying valiantly to kill him with the fiery aching – and brushed her off. Whether there was actual dust on her or he simply wanted to touch his possession to make sure she was still whole and healthy was anyone’s guess. It seemed like he wanted to do more, but just then another Gem practically knocked into him out of nowhere. Ineraz noted that if she had been a trained fighter, he would have likely been killed already due to being caught unawares. It would have been brilliant too – which Drakkan could possibly expect a Gem to come in charging for the kill? As it was however, the girl stammered out an apology, then threw herself at Zeldria, whom she obviously knew. Ineraz frowned at the pair and assessed his surroundings yet again. His group and Keregar’s were now almost side by side. It was safe to assume that the tanned, brown-haired, and brown-eyed Gem was actually Keregar’s. Ineraz decided to help protect her for the time being.

“Zeldria, Sera,” he growled lowly at them meaningfully. “Take cover by the wagon. Sera, feel free to burn any Drakkan trying to get close. Try not to inconvenience our allies though,” he gestured to Keregar’s group which was close-by and engaging pretty much everyone else. “You girl,” he hissed at the Gem stranger. “Either return to your master or stick close. And don’t die,” he briefly glared at her. “Nor,” he stated as if to the air, but the black hound’s ears perked in attention. “Guard,” he told the beast, pointing him at the Gems. The hulking black beast, followed by a slighter grey hound, ambled towards the Gem trio, to protect them from any Drakken wishing them harm.

Senn, the only Drakkan guard Ineraz had with him for this venture, was already standing with his weapon drawn at the wagon’s flank, attacking any approaching troublemakers to keep them away from the goods. The sandy beige and dark brown hounds were still with the guard, and snapped aggressively at enemy Drakken, helping Senn chase them away. Ineraz took this opportunity, when most of the brawlers were still focused on Keregar, to run to the wagon, climb up on its roof, take his bow from where it had hung over his back, and begin picking off the Drakkan one by one from his relatively safe vantage point. Though every single shot further aggravated his injured back, Ineraz kept at it. He was irritated enough that he didn’t even care how many Drakken were scared away from the combat zone and how many were killed on the spot, their life forfeited due to a petty little fight.

Some half-hour later, when the street was much bloodier and littered with corpses alongside the still living, and the assailants had either been scattered or slain, the skirmish was finally finished. Ineraz put the bow back around his back, still perched on the wagon, and stretched. His back protested at this action. Several of the cuts there had opened, and he could tell that his bandages were getting soaked in blood, though thankfully it was unlikely that that would be visible over the leather vest he wore over the (probably now bloody) shirt. His arrows had been mostly depleted during the battle, but as it was for a good cause, he did not mind. After wiping the sweat off his brow, Ineraz hopped back down. He checked on his brides, hovering by them while he ascertained whether they needed tending or not.

Finally, he turned and walked the short distance towards Keregar. “Warlord.” Ineraz greeted the older Drakkan with a feral little grin, unable to help his delight even though his back could probably serve as a furnace right now. “Not a bad way to meet,” he smirked and nodded at the felled Drakken, their blood steadily seeping down the path of least resistance, flowing into the gutters and getting into all the little cracks and fissures, but also slowly drying to a darker crimson. “What do you want with me, then?” Ineraz asked this curiously, his query honest and to the point but not without respect. He kept his gaze focused on the Warlord, ignoring the other's brides even though one of them had kind of assaulted Zeldria.

“The history lesson is quite fascinating, but I assure you it is far from necessary.” The young prince retorted, following his guest’s speech with a curt gesture with his cup. Taking another drink of the ale, Ehkota eyed Kagan from across the table as if he were attempting to sort something through in his mind.

“While it is foolish to think the death of the king will be anything less than the greatest political upheaval of the dynasty… it would be equally as dishonest to deny that I could wait another century for it to happen. This is not a matter in which I wish to challenge Gaelnesh over which might come as quite a surprise. Contrary to common belief, I don’t actually want to see him dead.” Setting his cup down on the table, Ehkota shifted backward into his chair.

“Any fight between us isn’t likely to end cordially and besides… he is the only family this world has seen fit for me to have.” The pregnant Gem shadowing the prince shifted uncomfortably where she stood, the man’s tone of voice bearing just the slightest hint of malcontent. Inhaling deeply, Ehkota sighed and pushed himself up from the table.

“Perhaps things will make more sense for you if I were to let you see it with your own eyes.”

Ehkota made his way toward the door, pausing only long enough for Kagan to rise from his seat and follow suit. The guard that had granted their entrance followed the group closely from behind, ushering Ehkota’s bride into the center with Kagan’s own. It was becoming increasingly clear that the guard was present less for the prince and more for the woman, though his presence certainly deterred any thoughts of straying too far from the chosen path.

“My bride tells me that congratulations are in order, it is somewhat rare that a Gem would fall pregnant so quickly.” The prince spoke as they walked down the corridor, maintaining a lower volume so that his conversation would not carry to uninvited ears.

“Although I suppose congratulations might be a bit premature, it is afterall a common occurrence for the first child to be lost within the month. Gems are so fragile you see, but one could only hope that yours proves to be the exception. You are, after all, a man in favor with the divine.” Ehkota smirked as the pair led the group along.

As they walked, the surrounding atmosphere was quick to change. Up until this point stone had been the only thing they tread upon, it made up the floors and walls alike. However, as the number of candles increased the available lighting the more decor could be seen. Rooms they passed contained couches and tables with walls covered in paintings of varying styles, the bleak floor standing in stark contrast to the bright woven rugs made by Geminite hands. Every so often a scarcely dressed Gem would dart in and out of view, working girls tending to the royal family’s every need.

Ehkota stopped the group in the middle of the hall, eyes flitting back to the girls before addressing Kagan.

“I think you’ll agree that your… family… should wait for you outside. Gem’s are so easily put to hysterics.” Both his words and tone suggested that regardless of Kagan’s true feelings on the matter, Ehkota was not willing to allow the girls any further on their current journey.

“Don’t worry, Twen will care for them until your return.” He added, before signalling for the Kinner to follow him. Leaving the girls behind with the guard, Ehkota walked a few more paces down the hall to a set of ornate doors.

No warnings were given to his entrance, simply pushing the doors open so that he and Kagan could enter before pushing them shut once more. The room was cast in an eerie twilight, an obscenely large room kept dark, cool, and filled with a thin haze of incense. It took a few moments for the eyes to adjust to the new lighting, new details to the room being revealed bit by bit over time. A grouping of about twelve Gems slowly faded into view, eight of them surrounding a large bed while the other four could be seen resting on tiny cots scattered about the floor.

Every single one of the girls wore simple black dresses, their pale skin draped in scars from head to toe. If one were to look closely the could also see the dark circles surrounding all but lifeless eyes. The four resting were quick to rise from their cots, adjusting to a kneeling position as they recognized the presence of the prince. With their hands behind their backs and their foreheads brushing the ground, the girls greeted their masters with a bow customary to the royal household. It was among the highest formalities for servants and was rarely seen outside of the palace walls, however, their posture was clear enough to be self-explanatory to the guest.

Unlike the girls who had been resting, the eight surrounding the bed outright ignored the commotion behind them; not a single girl flinched or even acknowledged the prince and his companion. Even through the heavily scented air the smell of rotting flesh was apparent within the room.

Approaching the circle revealed the bed’s occupant, the body of what appeared to be a Drakkan… Or what was left of him anyhow. He looked more like a breathing corpse than he did even the most vile of Drakka’s creatures. Two air Gems stood at the head, one whose job was to move air to fill his lungs while the other was to pull the stale air back out. A small hole had been made in the man’s chest to expose a weakly beating heart, only a thin stretch of skin standing between the vital organ and the rest of the room. Stones that had been embedded through the broken ribs were manipulated by another two earth Gems in order to maintain the rhythm in perfect intervals. The next pair of girls were located with one at the head and the other the foot of the bed. Standing at the head of the bed was a girl carefully providing a stream of sugared liquid into the man’s mouth while the other shifted in place. What exactly it was that the second girl was moving, however, was unclear. Fire Gems completed the circle, moving only to shift and reheat stones that were placed on, around, and under the king.

Ehkota remained silent for a few moments to allow the horrendous sight to sink in before he spoke, his tone remaining low so as not to disturb the process.

“May I formally introduce you to Drakka’s greatest warrior, conqueror, and leader… I present to you King Toran.” The young prince’s eyes were fixed on the sight before him, entranced by the decaying corpse that was once his father.

“Or what’s left of him. I don’t suppose you would argue that a little dignity is long overdue. Is it even really considered killing at this point?” Ehkota’s eyes snapped up from the bed as a familiar voice spoke up, one far different from the one he had been expecting.

“Hello, brother.”

Gaelnesh sat at the head of the royal’s main dining hall, tapping his finger with a great deal of irritation. The daughter sitting beside him consumed her food in silence sensing that words spoken would only add to the man’s foul mood. With his two elder children seeing to the front lines the table was usually empty aside from the High Prince and Evienne with Ehkota making sporadic appearances. It wasn’t uncommon for the younger prince to skip out on family time, however there was something bothering the man about this particular absence.

Shifting her glance sideways, Evienne glanced around the room before choosing to speak up.

“Is there something bothering you father? It isn’t like you to be so… on edge.” She said, eyes flicking down to his tapping finger before returning to her own plate before her.

“Where is your uncle?” Gaelnesh barked out, eyes glued to the entrance used most often by his youngest sibling.

“He is supposed to be reporting back to me about those ridiculous rumors. How long could it possibly take him?” Evienne raised an eyebrow at this, remembering a snippet of a conversation she overheard between a couple of guards earlier in the day.

“If I’m not mistaken, uncle Ehkota has requested dinner in a private chamber this evening. You either pissed him off by giving him such a pointless job to do or he has guests.” Gaelnesh sighed, his posture relaxing some as he did so.

“So it’s come to this has it, brother?” He growled, though his words were directed to no one in particular, at least no one present. Another look of confusion swept over the princess’ features although this time, a small amount of concern was etched into the surface.

“Is everything alright? I can have the guards summon him or if you’d rather I-”

“No. It’s alright, I will handle this. You just see to your evening obligations while I have a word with your uncle. I’m not sure how long this will take so don’t wait up tonight.” The woman opened her mouth to speak however found nothing she could say as her father stood from the table.

Making his way from the dining hall Gaelnesh made his way down the corridors, guards standing to attention and servants bowing their heads respectfully along the way. None dared to stop the stop the man who walked with such purpose, the High Prince clearly having a destination in mind.

For as long as he knew his little brother, Gaelnesh was rarely surprised by the boy’s antics. It didn’t take Ehkota very long to come to the realization that outright confrontation was not a thing that favored him. After all, such confrontation was how the young prince lost his horns in the first place. Instead he turned to tricks and manipulation to achieve his goals, growing ever more troublesome the older he got.

Gaelnesh allowed Ehkota his space over the years, picking and choosing which of his schemes would be allowed to succeed and which ones would be shut down. It hadn’t been until recently that the younger prince’s antics had become more than just tedious to deal with, things were becoming increasingly more dangerous. If his assumptions about his younger brother were correct, Gaelnesh would find his brother consulting someone that could potentially upset the stability of the royal house. While it was something he knew would happen eventually, Gaelnesh still couldn’t help but to think that there was more he could have done to prevent such events from coming to fruition.

Eventually the eldest prince arrived before a distinct set of doors that remained closed at all times, shifting only to allow entrance to a particular set of people. Allowing himself into the room, Galenesh shut the doors behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust to the hazy darkness. After several moments, he was greeted by the sight of a handful of Gem servants kneeling before him.

The girls surrounding the bed would ignore him as they were instructed to do, their only obligations being to the king when ‘on-duty’.

“How are things?” The four girls bowing before the prince stirred as he addressed them, the front most girl stepping forward while the other three returned to their cots to rest. No words were spoken by the young Gem, instead she simply closed her dull eyes and shook her head from side to side.

No details would follow her silent response though it wasn’t as if Gaelnesh had been expecting any in the first place. Aside from the predictable deterioration of the king’s body, none of the girls were capable of proper speech any longer. Upon their entrance to his service each one of the girls by his side had their tongues cut from their mouths, sworn to secrecy and eternal bondage to the king.

“I thought as much. You may return to your cot now as well.” The girl bowed her head once more before shuffling over to the empty cot and laying down.

Surveying the room, Gaelnesh chose a corner of the room to retreat to while he awaited his brother’s inevitable arrival. It was unlikely he would be seen from his position allowing him to observe Ehkota without his knowledge prior to interrupting his plans. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting to see or hear, but it was likely they would just be affirmations to the prince’s suspicions.

~~~

WIthin the walls of the king’s chamber time was non-existent, progression marked only by the breathy gasps and shifting stones from the bed. Gaelnesh had begun to wonder if he had overreacted or miscalculated his brother’s timeline, but eventually the younger prince showed his face.

It took the older man a moment to place the recognition he felt for the young man standing beside his brother, coming to remember him from the list of bride recipients. A kinner paid for the stellar work he had done easing an old warrior on to the after life. Gaelnesh had little doubts about what was happening now, a hidden smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Ehkota had all but sealed his fate.

Sitting back in silence, the prince watched as the Gems greeted the unsuspecting pair, unable to alert them to the trap closing in around them.

“May I formally introduce you to Drakka’s greatest warrior, conqueror, and leader… I present to you King Toran.” Even from his place in the shadows he could tell that the young prince had his eyes fixed on his father.

“Or what’s left of him. I don’t suppose you would argue that a little dignity is long overdue. Is it even really considered killing at this point?” Stepping forward, Gaelnesh revealed himself to the two newcomers by speaking up.

“Hello, brother.” Ehkota’s eyes immediately snapped up to meet his, fighting to keep his composure despite what was clearly an alarming set back.

“We missed you at dinner, thought I would come to see what was keeping you. Looks like you’ve been rather busy.” Gaelnesh’s voice was commanding in the darkened space, his words feigning ignorance while his tone revealed his understanding of the situation at hand.

“I do hope that Ehkota here hasn’t been giving you too much trouble. I know how… persuasive he can be. If my memory is correct, you’re the kinner from the ceremony. Not many of you guys take brides so I guess you’re rather memorable.” He said, this time addressing the young man standing beside the young prince.

“It’s a good thing my brother brought you when he did though, your presence here is most welcome.” Gaelnesh could sense his brother tensing at his words, no doubt mind reeling in an attempt to figure out what his brother had meant. Approaching the bedside, Gaelnesh slide a knife from a sheath tied to his belt.

“I am the High Prince Gaelnesh, first born to the first king Toran and contender to the throne. With an official witness from the kinner’s Order, I hereby exercise my right as eldest son to challenge the king for his position as Drakka’s ruler. For the glory of Drakka.” The prince spoke before plunging the blade deep into the exposed heart, shredding the weakened muscles as he did so.

The girls surrounding the bed collapsed in near unison, their battered and malnourished bodies succumbing to the exhaustion as their duties were relieved. By the end of the night it was more than likely several of the girls would have passed away, having spent years of their lives dedicated to sharing their lifeforce with a dying king. He wasn’t sure what he would do with the survivors, thinking he might keep them around or give them to his daughter but he had time to decide such matters. There were far more important things to tend to.

Removing the blade from the king’s chest, he watched as all signs of life left the man for good. What was left behind was a completely empty shell, though arguably it had been empty for quite some time. Knife in hand, Gaelnesh approached the pair and locked eyes with a cross looking Ehkota.

“Are there any present who challenge my claim?” He growled, a fire burning behind his brother’s eyes. Gaelnesh knew Ehkota would not act out against him, even if the opportunity was indeed legitimate. It wasn’t his style, and he had been trained far better than that.

After waiting in silence for several moments, Gaelnesh puffed air through his nose before turning his attention back toward Kagan.

“Whatever Ehkota has paid you is yours to keep, but your services are no longer required here. Oh, and Ehkota?” The prince said, turning his gaze over his shoulder to peer at his brother with an expression Ehkota would know all too well.

“It’s such a shame about your cute bride… She almost made it to full term this time.”

Zel hadn't been sure what she expected from Sera, but her sister bride seemed civil enough in response. Granted, she didn't respond with much of anything, and it dawned on Zel that Sera had been uncomfortable ever since they'd arrived at the market. She did, however, oblige her with what seemed to be a simple random choosing game similar to "Father Bought a Donkey," and the result was the lighter grey. Which was just as well, Zel decided, and Ineraz didn't seem to find issue with it, so that was that.

"Thank you Sera," she said as she took it off the rack. She found a large bag for carrying her choices in, and as she loaded them into it she decided to take a moment inside the closed wagon to change out of the Drakken clothing and into one of the shirts and skirts she'd picked out. Not long after, Ineraz led them out onto one of the major thoroughfares... and straight into a scene out of a Gem's nightmare. Men screamed in pain and rage alike amid ringing metal and the sounds of flesh being torn into as what seemed like a small war broke out in the street. Zeldria's attention was soon taken away, however, as a Gem came hurtling out of the crowd, collided with Ineraz briefly, then turned to look at her.

Xaelia seemed so much different today than she had in the baths, but there was neither mistaking nor forgetting her. And, judging by the way she looked and then practically leaped at Zel, it seemed the feeling was mutual. Zeldria found herself returning the embrace, regardless of length, and couldn't help but notice how Xaelia reacted when Ineraz barked orders at them. He ordered them back to the wagon, which seemed a good idea, so Zel broke the hug but kept her arm around Xaelia.

"Come on Xaelia, I'll stay with you," she said as she gently pushed on the dark-haired Gem's back and guided her back to the wagon. Senn and the hounds took up defensive positions around them once they arrived, and once they were firmly against the wooden side Zel guided her newly reunited friend to crouch down with her.

"It's alright, we should be safe now. Are you alright? What happened?"







It was not a good day for the injured Drakken. He'd been struck in the shoulder by a knife, kicked and clawed by a Gem, and then tripped by the reeds at the command of another, only adding insult to injury. He broke free quite soon, however, and was just getting to his feet to move for Amalia and Onyx again when a flash of movement appeared behind him and Wilhelm's black sword protruded from his chest, splashing blood across the ground before him. As the shock passed over his face he registered what was happening, and when he turned to look where the fighting had been before he only saw his compatriots lying on the ground, their blood mixing with the waters of the swamp, soundly dead.

Wilhelm pulled the sword from the man and flung his form to the roadside without a word, glaring contemptuously at the man. For all the noises of combat, there was not a wound to be seen on him; a torn right sleeve was the only sign he'd even been assailed. Both of his brides seemed unharmed, save for Amalia's ear where it had been struck by the arrows. Leaning in to the carriage, Wilhelm easily plucked the arrow from the wood and smelled the head carefully.

"Not venomed. That is well," he said before dismissively tossing it among the corpses. He straightened his clothes a bit, now that the fight was done, but he did not sheathe his sword as he strolled to the front of the carriage. "How many more ambushes will we be dealing with today?" he asked, not quite wondering aloud. A few seconds passed where nobody spoke, and then Wilhelm rapidly reached up with his free hand to grab the Driver by the arm and bodily hurl him to the ground from off his perch.

"I asked you a question, Matteo. How many more ambushes are waiting for us on this road?" he said with a voice like ice.

"M-my Lord?" Matteo stuttered as he sat up, "I've no idea why you're asking me-"

"Oh you don't?" Wilhelm snarled, "You think me a fool then? You come to me with reports of a blocked pass..."

"But it's true my lord! It is blocked!" Matteo pleaded as he began to scramble backwards while Wilhelm followed him.

"You tell me there are bandits on the Highroad, so my only option is this path..."

"I could not confirm that, but it did not seem worth the risk-"

"And then, strangely, the wagon horses grind to a sudden halt HERE, where an ambush was waiting!"

"Th-the horses must have been startled by something!"

"Indeed. But how would something startle them while my steed remains untroubled?"

"Y-y-your steed is trained and bred for war my lord!" Matteo stammered, panic beginning to flood his face as he found his back pressed against a tree, "Surely he wouldn't be startled by something so-"

"Of course not! But he would still sense it and alert me, as he has been trained. Unless, of course, it was something he was not intended to sense. A localized tremor, only beneath the wagon horses perhaps?"

"Yes, of course! One of the attackers must have-"

"And why would they do that? Only someone who knew my horse would alert me would specifically avoid affecting him with it. Someone who has been around these horses their entire life. Someone like you, Matteo."

Wilhelm reached down and gripped Matteo by the throat, hoisting him up against the tree with seemingly little effort.

"Now, I will ask you one. Last. Time," he said venomously, "How many other ambushes are there?"

Matteo struggled to find enough breath, but the more he groped and scratched against Wilhelm's iron grasp the more he seemed to realize that he was running out of options. Finally, he managed to breathe out "This was the only one, my lord."

"And who were these men?" Wilhelm asked.

"Peasants, my lord...." Matteo said between gasps, "Disgraced soldiers who only wanted some Gems for themselves..."

"You are certain of that? Or are you deceiving me again?" Wilhelm demanded as he hoisted the servant higher still.

"N-no my lord! I tell you truth! Please!" Matteo began to beg as tears formed in his eyes.

"Very well," Wilhelm said as he let go and Matteo flopped to the ground, gasping for air. Wilhelm watched him patiently as he began to right himself then looked him straight in the eyes. "Then you are dismissed."

With a single motion the black sword lashed out, severing the servant's head with an impossibly clean strike that left a single, straight gash in the trunk of the tree behind him. He cleaned the sword of its blood as he trod back to the wagon to take stock of the situation. With nary a word to his brides, at first, he went to the back of the carriage and began to pull the saddles from it. He unhooked the horses from their post and quickly saddled each of them, then turned to Amalia and Onyx.

"We will be riding the rest of the way," he told them, "It will be faster and less noticeable. Are you both familiar with the action, or need I instruct you?"

The large ornate doors slammed shut before Bree could get a proper look in the door. The spicy scent of incense hit her like a wave as well as as the sickly sweet rotting stench of a decaying animal.

Twen gave out a small hiss as she placed both of her her hands on her back, the guard coming to her side at once. “Vivari’s fucking saggy tits,” she hissed.

“ Breathe Twen,” Said the guard, surprisingly soothingly for drakkan.

At the same time the runty puppy decided he had more than enough of this and gave a final yank on the leash causing the collar to slide off. The small dog shook his neck and head, gave Bree and frustratingly mocking look (if dogs could give mocking looks) before taking off down the hall. Bree gave a quick glance towards the guard and the prince’s gem. They were quite distracted.

She started walking quickly towards the pup, which then turned into a quick jog and then a full out run. The wretched creature always stopped to wait for her at every corner turn and seemed to be enjoy the game of letting her get just close enough before taking off again.

Bree soon lost count of the number of twists and turns the dog had taken and there was little else she could do, it wasn’t like the creature had a name to call or that it would listen to her if it did. Turning a final corner she collided with….something.

Bree found herself splayed on the ground, looking up a one of the palace gems, holding the puppy who was making quick work of licking her face.

“Is this little one yours?” Said the gem softly, before reaching out a hand to help Bree to her feet.

“I think so, he seems to have other ideas about the matter,” muttered Bree.

“Haha, yes well Fret not sister, for Drun was born last,” said the Gem.

“I...don’t know what that means,” Said Bree, the woman from the market had said something similar before. ”Can I have my dog back?” The gem left and uneasy feeling in the air, like she was waiting for something.

“Soon you will. Your aunt and freedom is waiting for you” said the Gem. “Also, sorry about this, but it is a precaution,”

“What-” Bree there was an exploding pain in the back her head, then her world went black.

The day passed eventfully, several more wins for both husband and bride got the family even more prestige. It was becoming a name of renown, though the holdings of the family were still rather ... unimpressive as such things went. Gwillim finished his last combat of the day with weary muscles and mind. He washed himself with cool water after the bout to clear his head for the evenings festivities. The family had waited to cheer their champions and were quite pleased to lift both on makeshift divans and parade them to the family compound. The celebrations were less ... demanding this time. A more relaxed feasting where family members sat or stood around the hall, which had only a few tables left in it compared to the previous night. They mingled and wandered about, few staying in one group or another for more than a quarter hour. The chatter was light and generally jovial. An unusual thing, but with good reason.

Gwillim wandered the hall, snacking on the foods servants kept stocked or were carrying through the hall. He chatted with several of the higher ranking members of the family. Given his performance, most were wiling to allow him to be named heir to the house. He'd certainly done much to provide the house with much of the resources currently being invested in the houses' expansion. And his way with the levies were quite efficient, and had done much to secure the substantial, if difficult to defend, holdings the family had. Gwillim was happy to have been a boon to the family, and hoped that each would find a way to further build on what little had had done.

The necessary politicking more or less taken care of, Gwillim wondered what his brides had gotten up to. He hadn't seen Scyrvensrel since getting back and was pretty sure at least one of the brides would be keeping her occupied. Alfhi and Hestia he saw were entertaining themselves, so he made his way to one of the rarely used but immaculately kept studies. He was expecting someone, after the days's events. He'd had a chat with a few of the nobles in the arena between his matches.

”...very well..” Kagan huffed, standing to follow the prince after being forced to sit through a rather long winded five point presentation of ”Fuck challenging my brother and the horse that very notion rode in on for this but do what I want anyway.”. Honestly, if it weren’t for the heavily pregnant gem shadowing the drakken, Kagan would have sworn that he only had romantic passions for his own verbal excretions. Still, that was as firm a ‘no’ as he’d been able to wrench from the princling and if humoring him a little longer meant he could take that no and walk the royal right to the hallowed gates of ”That sound like a YOU problem” then he’d happily do so.

Though...even he had to admit the princes congratulations on Aubree came as somewhat of a suprise. Well, two surprises, but right now Kagan could only deal with one at a time. ”...Did not take you for the type to wax poetic about children. Still, it is appreciated. Hopefully the same luck will bless your forth coming child.” He adds quietly, his stony expression not betraying the mental mathematics he was currently flipping through. Should not have bought those dogs...

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

The inner sanctum of the palace reeked of incense, the clouds ashen and so thick he could feel the smell clinging to his skin like a begger. That should have been Kagan’s firs real warning. It was the sort of mistake novice members of Krenta’s church made. Attempting to over power the stench of befouling flesh with anything possible. It never worked, the body was too keenly aware of the smell.Eventually most just gave up and accepted the smell of death which hung in the air, until it faded into the background of their mind. Suddenly he was glad that his gems were left behind. The redhead would have doubtlessly had some complaint. The small one probably would have just played with the smoke...which would have been an amusing distraction all things considered.

What he saw...Gods what he saw. Kagan had heard of the things GEMS did with their elderly. Homes designed specifically for their care. Herbs and medicenes ground tirelessly for the failing or half dead, all for a single day more of wasteful existance of lying in a bed stewing in ones own agony. But this? It was every obscene heresy the most creative Gem could conjure dialed up to the breaking point. He...(IT, he reminded himself.) IT was alive in the most mechanical sense possible.

Kagan was not prone to fits of religious delusion. He was orthodox, reserved, calm as the bodies he deal with. The notion of seeing spirits or even the gods was to be laughed away. But behind the lightless eyes of the corpse king in front of him, Kagan could HEAR Krenta scream. It was not a mournful scream either. It was a wrathful wail with the intensity to sunder a million worlds in but a second, and a fury that would kowtow Drun into a mewling pile of terrified flesh. All at the sheer mockery that was King Toran.

As Ehkota spoke (his words reaching nothing), Kagan wanted to scream. To rip the mace from his hip and transform the man into a wonderful smear on the carpet for even knowing about this. To burn this whole tainted city to its root and continue to the next. And the next.
Until a thousand millennia from now his bones finally gave way to time and the only thing keeping the rampage from stopping was the sheer momentum of wrath behind it and naught but ash and bone to tear further asunder.

But his body would not move. Instead, he stood there. Stance calm and expressionless as the gods raged and coward in his mind. Only now becoming dimly aware of the equally dumbfounded expression on the talkative prince, his gaze laser focused on the bed. Kagan lazily turned his gaze to match his compaions, greeted with the sight of another (this unfortunately alive) drakken.

“I am the High Prince Gaelnesh, first born to the first king Toran and contender to the throne. With an official witness from the kinner’s Order, I hereby exercise my right as eldest son to challenge the king for his position as Drakka’s ruler. For the glory of Drakka.”

As the knife dropped (he refused to call this a stabbing) into the heart of the former king, things began to click away in Kagan’s mind. Ehkota’s inelegant attempt to get him to perform an illegitimate kinning. The thing affronting all of existence. The sheer gall of calling this a challenge. All a part of some bulked up little noble child whose mother should have had the good sense to squeeze him back out the moment his father released into her’s little game of sibling dominance.

All at the expense of his domain.

And as Gaelnesh issued his victory speech to him and the now singular prince of Drakka, he felt something give...and began to smile. A smile of pure joy, as though he were a child again. He’d only felt this way once before. When Warlord Harin had him agaisnt the wall and death was a near certainty. And now, this beacon of glowing joy was directed solely on Gaelnesh. ”I, Kagan Galegar...” He says, voice silk smooth and sweeter than honey, ”As an official member of the High Church of Krenta decree that the formal challenge to former King Toran by Gaelnesh Toranson is complete with no challengers. Long live the King.” He finishes with a small bow before turning to Ehkota.

”Darling I think we should attend to your bride. Best not waste your brothers time for now.” He says, gently placing a hand on the hornless Drakkens shoulder which, despite the light tenderness of the touch, held the weight of a Nymurmuris’ break tearing into the poor princes shoulder. ”By your leave your highness.” Kagan adds with a chipper bob of the head to the elder prince turned king before heading back the way he came, using the sum total of his will power to force himself not to skip gaily. Suddenly he was somewhat glad for the over abundance of incense whirling about the room. It made sure the biting wrathful heat rolling off him in waves limited to Ehkota’s senses alone.

He rather looked forward to coming back to the palace in the future.

After the terrifying breakfast, the day seemed to speed by. She and Alfhi spent a lot of time together and she was begging to feel like the girl's doll. After the fights were some sort of dinner party and Hestia was once again overwhelmed with the thought of all of those people milling about. Alfhi had been allowed to choose her clothes and dress her up as she saw fit. The girl had good taste, not that Hestia would know - having been used to repurposed potato sacks.

She wore a soft, mossy green dress that complimented her eyes. A slit along the side of the dress allowed for pale gold (nearly white) ruffled fabric to show and give a bit of contrast. Hestia's wild hair had somehow been tamed and put into an intricate bun. For the first time in her life, she looked into the mirror and thought herself a bit pretty.

The party was just as intimidating as she had anticipated. She stuck close to Alfhi, threading her arm through hers as they sat together. Alfhi chatted happily and Hestia leaned close to hear. Their heads were close in a conspiratorial manner which helped her ignore the number of people milling about the room. Someone interrupted their quiet chatting by clearing their throat.

Hestia's turned quickly toward them, wide-eyed and ready to bolt. It was a male Drakkan, older judging by his wrinkles. But he also had a warm smile that calmed her fluttering heart. It seemed he was there to claim Alfhi, demanding lightly that she should come and speak to her uncles and aunts for a bit. Alfhi promised to return soon and Hestia sat still and alone. She watched the people and became more and more agitated as time passed. She was feeling a bit faint and just needed a place to be alone.

Slowly, so as to not draw attention to herself she began to move around the edge of the room until she made it to an archway. Once around the corner, she bolted, running as fast as the long dress would allow. At the first door, she could find she opened it and ducked inside. Quietly she closed it and leaned her forehead against the cool wood for a moment before turning around and finding that her husband was also in the room. Jade green eyes widened as her back pressed against the door. Her hand began to search for the door handle without success.



---



[color=00aeef]

After the rather awkward breakfast, Tempe got a bit of time to know her sister bride and her.... daughter? She found Hestia to be a pleasant and sweet little thing. It seemed Alfhi, while intrigued by the new addition, was suspicious of her. Perhaps worried that something might happen to Hestia? None the less she found the Drakkan child delightful. And when the time came for the girl to watch the fights, she and Hestia had taken the time to explore their surroundings. Hestia had clung to her and meekly followed where ever it was the Tempe lead. Both were a bit quiet so to break the silence Tempest told stories and old folk tales from home. This seemed to calm and relax Hestia. It seemed to hadn't heard most of them and Temper wondered what sort of life the poor thing had led before.

With the return of husband and wife, the two gems were claimed. Hestia by Alfhi who had scampered up to her before her parents could say anything. And Tempest by Scyr. She followed to woman up to her chambers and helped her remove her armour.

She fumbled a bit with the knots, unused to having to untie such things. But after a while, it became a bit like unhitching the horses from the wagons. With the armour removed she helped to wipe any dirt away from the woman's face. She was pretty in the Drakkan sort of way. Hard lines and wide planes. Next was a wonderful and relaxing bath for Scyr and Tempest helped to wash her back and hair. There was a party to prepare for after all.

After the bath Scyr dressed while Tempest told her a story from home. She hadn't needed the Gem's help so she wasn't sure what else to do. It seemed mother and daughter had a penchant for enjoying dressing up their Gems. Once Scyr had finished preparing, she pulled from a wardrobe an elegant sky blue gown which she helped Tempe slip into. Then her dreadlocks were arranged and pulled back from her face. Little metal clasps and feathers were added. "Thank you, Lady," Tempe said softly and touched the blue silk. She had never worn anything so expensive in her life. Scyr shrugged and swept an approving eye over the girl's appearance. In fact, looked at her far longer than should have been necessary. "Is something wrong ma'am?" The Drakkan woman shook her head and replied that nothing was.

Holding out her arm, Tempest stared at her. What was she supposed to do? Scyr directed her to link arms as well as where to put her hand. In this fashion, they joined the party.

One guy got a little rowdy with the twins. He was just a tiny bit smaller. But certainly in the prime of his life. Maybe it was that youthful arrogance that fueled him. Never the less, he went straight for one of the twins and tried to beat him down. Only, the twin didn’t drop. He took the hit, square on his jaw. The group stopped, everyone jumped back in shock. For split second there was a sensible tension in the air. Like lightning was about to strike from a clear blue sky. But lightning didn’t strike. Instead, Histvich turned to face the one that attacked him. With a furiously scowl on his face. The guy tried to back up, but the tight pack behind him could barely open to let him pass. “Come here!” Histvich yelled as he jumped into the group, hunting him down like some animal. Some fell to the ground. Others into another. “Histvich!” yelled his twin in caution. But he was already gone, hunting his assailant. Before him though, more fists were thrown in anger. “This is going to be a riot.”

Keregar stepped up to his son and put a hand on his shoulder as he saw the violence spark. “Good. It’s been a while.” He said. Herstvich imagined a smile under his father’s stone face and formed one of his own. He raised his weapon and started charging with an exuberant shout. Keregar, without even turning, said to Varzar: “Get the gems into safety.” After which he tightened the straps on his metal gauntlets. For a split second, he did break a grin. It truly felt like a decade he last had a riot. They used to happen all the time back in his younger years. When everything felt so much more dynamic. Son kills father. Brothers fought wars. Conquest delivered upon any race’s doorstep. In a way, the Anathos wars hadn’t just changed the Gems. The times now, they felt strange. Foreign. So much of tradition had changed. Drakka was tamed. Maybe it was true what they said. Maybe Drakkan weren’t meant to live long. Maybe they were just expected to die gutted in a wild forest. Or bleed out on a battlefield. And maybe, that fate had now changed. Whatever it was, Keregar felt a strange sorrow coming over him. A sorrow that was quickly pushed away and replaced by rage.

Varzar didn’t feel so good. There was a definitive bitter taste in his mouth. Was this how father always felt? If so, no wonder why he always treated everyone and everything like crap. His stomach hurt so much, it felt like he was poisoned. He had filled his drinking sack with the stuff. Because while it made him physically ill, it also made him incredibly numb to everything. The whole world felt so far away. The mixture he made from the various boozes in the cellar might have tasted like the piss of a great Hornrat back home, it did make him feel numb. Like he wasn’t obligated to feel sadness or anger or confusion. No he just felt nothing. Still, when Nadia made a comment, he felt a short pang. “I- Do-“ in his nebulous mind he couldn’t really formulate a good answer to her remark. Did the market really look like the ones in Gemmenia? “Drakka is actually-“ he wanted to say, when Nadia commented on how much more colorful the marked looked. But his stomach didn’t like him opening his mouth for anything other than the unholy cocktail he had made. The cramps made it quite clear to him that he shouldn’t speak, and he did instantly shut up with no follow up.

He tried his best to stumble behind the group. Though it had to be obvious to everyone watching that the little Drakkan was quite beyond himself. This all lasted until a dead silence fell. Varzar couldn’t see what had happened in front of the group. He just knew that suddenly the twins were gone and a very real fight had broken out before them. Adrenaline has a weird effect on a brain under influence. It makes everything sharp again but at the same time, he had barely any real sensation in his muscles. When his father ordered him to hide the gems, he was ready. Except when he looked up, Xaelia was already gone. “No… No! No! No!” He yelled out. To no avail. Xaelia was gone. In his panic he grabbed Nadia, but in his rather physically senseless state that might have been a bit too forceful. The young Drakkan pulled her into the nearest tent, where a vendor looked quite surprised when they ran behind his counter table. “No! You’re not allowed to-“ but Varzar felt a strange sense of courage boil up. “Shut up! We’re hiding here!” the vendor wanted to pull his dagger, but right then a Drakkan was thrown through the tent roof into the store. Varzar overthrew the table, letting everything on it clang onto the floor and pulled Nadia behind it, so both were hidden. The vendor had already fled with most of his gold. Varzar, immediately pushed a hand over her mouth and put his pointing finger over his lips, bidding her to be quiet. “Where the hell… am I…” the dazzed faller said as he rose up. Varzar peeked out, just when the faller turned towards them. “There there, what do we have here.” The new Drakkan was a head taller than Varzar. He looked about a 150. Varzar dropped back behind the counter and put his hand on a the pommel of his dagger. “Come out now. I’m not going to hurt you.” The Drakkan said gently. “I know you’re here!” Suddenly he turned the corner of the toppled table. Varzar jumped up and pulled his dagger. “Not a step closer.” He said. “What do we have here. A little Drakkan and… is that mommy?” the Drakkan said with a rather demeaning tone. “How about I let you live and you just step outside, eh? No need to make this all ugly.” But Varzar kept himself between Nadia and the creep. “Come now. Just let me have a little taste of-“ the Drakkan, seeing no real threat in the little one, took two steps forward. He never had a chance for a third. With a deafening war cry Varzar charged him and pushed the dagger into his stomach. The larger Drakkan yelled: “Bastard!” as he dropped to a knee and tried to cover the wound. But Varzar, in his rather hazed state, didn’t feel done. He felt like a dam had just broken. An impossible amount of emotions flowed over him. Everything at once and it all turned into uncontrollable anger. He couldn’t speak, only scream in the incomprehensible language of rage. He pushed the Drakkan over and jumped on him. Then he stabbed him. Again. Again! Again! Blood spurted out of every wound and began to cover the little one. But he kept on screaming. Even when blood squirted into his mouth and onto his eyes. He kept yelling and stabbing even when he could barely see. His knife hit bone, organs, cartilage. Every time he plunged his knife into the now lifeless body he felt something else. Some other smoothness or resistance. Eventually his own rage wore off. Varzar couldn’t even hold on to the blade now. His arms shook as he dropped the steel on top of the corpse and crawled off of it. Even on arms and legs his entire body shook. A sickness, a wrongness rose up from within him and he puked on the floor there, next to the mutilated body.

Hirstvich was in the midst of battle, thoroughly enjoying himself as he slammed an axe into a face. Who was it? Why did he do it? Who cares? It was all in the name of the War God. “Drunn bless me!” he shouted as blood spat out of a fresh wound. He had just thrown some guy away when he finally reached his twin, who was thoroughly enjoying himself as well. “Hey bullneck!” Another Drakkan challenged. Both the twins turned to him. Then they looked at each other. “He’s mine!” Herstvich yelled. “Mine!” Hirstvich yelled back. Before the challenger could even react, two giant Drakkan charged him with horns up front. But it was Herstvich who impaled him on them and threw him over. After which Histvich pulled him up with his hair. “Which one of us is the Bullneck.” But the wounded challenger couldn’t say anything, not with two punctured lungs. Not that Histvich cared. He just slapped him. “Well?! Who is it?” The soon to be corpse just spat out blood. “Ah that is just unasked for.” Histvich said, after which he pulled his hair further back and cut the throat open. Herstvich, in the meantime, had already been swept away into some other brawl. Suddenly someone put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, ready to punish whoever dared touch him. Only to see a friend. “Alreg!” He yelled excited, as he put both of his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Alreg did the same, stabilizing themselves from the pulls and pushes. “This is the best riot of the year!” Alreg shouted! “I know!” Herstvich yelled, after which he headbutted his friend and carried on with the fight.

Finding Keregar could never be hard. You just had to find the source of blazes and large boulders being flung around. Reaching him, however, was a whole different kind of labor. He stood in the middle of all chaos. Surrounded by brawls of their own and challengers who wanted to take a swing at a Drakkan. Some knew he was a warlord, others didn’t. Keregar held in his left hand a searing hot chain he had looted from a corpse and a Warhammer most would have to wield with both hands. “Come on! Are none of you worthy!?” he challenged. And the challenge was answered from Drakkan all around him. But none could reach the Warlord. With every hit of the chain blazing flames erupted from the red-hot iron. If they come too close, a literal stone crushing strike of his hammer dealt a usual fatal blow. All around him the earth had cracked and fire raged unchecked. They were joined with spikes of ice and strong winds. It was pandemonium, chaos, a small moment of war within the very streets of the capital. It was joined with not just blood, rage and glory. But also with mud, dirt and the ugliness of death. And within the heart of that chaos was Keregar. Marked by fire and stone. But eventually, the fighting had to stop. The survivors either crawled or hobbled out. While others looted the dead and the left behind stalls. Not that there was all that much value left behind. Only then Keregar found Ineraz. Right when he sat down on a stump of rock.

Keregar smiled as he clutched his bleeding side. “Meeting after being blood-soaked. I see it as a good omen.” He returned to Ineraz. “I want to invite you and yours.” He said, motioning to his gems. “To Kereg-Kor. What say you, Ineraz, famous hunter of Drakka. Would you honor an old warlord with a hunt?” He said, after which he kept silent for a minute. Behind him Varzar appeared from his tent with Nadia close by. The little Drakkan looked like he just crawled out of a grave. At the same time, the twins rejoined their father. Each wearing huge smiles and drenched in blood.