William Flin, merchant, explorer and professional swindler. And now prisoner. Life had been ticking over for longer than he liked to remember. He'd been sitting in this crude cell for much longer than he liked to admit however he knew that he wasn't being ransomed by common bandits. Bandits don't feed prisoners venison and it wasn't a rival merchant, because William had been left alive. A predicament that was partly due to his own stupidity. If he'd hadn't left Jais as acting leader of the merchant guild search parties would've been formed no later than a day after he went missing. But William had been around half the lands searching for ingredients, plants from all corners of the isles, red kelp, blister cap mushrooms, mid-nightshade. At some point he'd thought himself to be on a fools adventure looking for substances that very few see In a lifetime. But the alchemist who described it explained his thought process and the true power in this concoction, before William quietly disposed of one less loose end. And he only had one reminder of his quest sitting taunting him in the docks of this pathetic tiny shanty town. William arrived here as it was the only place in the known land that had a grove that grew the purist spiked wolfsbane and that was the last item on Williams list. The town was located on the northern borders of Thralreth directly next to Legon. The land was a barren and open; after the vast farmlands of Thralreth ended but just before the dense forests of Legon began. He and his crew had taken a small boat through the river Wye, sailed along the coast of Thralreth before finally sailing up the river Howl just to get to this nameless village. At first the village's folk seemed little more than inbred savages, eyes always watching, whispers when the crew passed. Overall just creepy, but not violent. It was unclear who their lord was and any attempt to ask them for the name of their lord or village were met with either vague answers or grunts. The crew themselves were becoming increasingly restless and wanted to find the nettlebane as soon as possible so they could leave. They’d been here for a week waiting for a guide to show them to the grove then the day finally came. A man with a Balding head and only enough teeth in his mouth to be able to eat. He took William into the heart of the forest when he turned to William with a dagger in hand and murderous intent in his eyes. That was when William met her. As the man drew closer ready to strike William down, so too did the woman, dressed in little more than modesty rags. Hidden in the canopy shadow she drew her bow and with a single piecing sound that man was left gurgling on the floor in a book of blood and splintered bones where the arrow had all but removed his jaw.

“You, your not like the others, the others don't dress like testers” said the woman removing the arrow from the still gurgling man.
“Testers?” pronounced William still partly shocked at the attack and confused at the scantily clad woman…
“Yes the men who entertain with funniness, one passed through the forest once he dressed like you maybe you know him?” Her joyful giggle took William by surprise and her broken language definitely made William wonder about her origins.
“A jester” William responded with a callous look “no I'm a merchant I trade things with people. Anyway who are you, why did you kill that man, why did he attack me?”
“Merchant” she giggled again “no I prefer jester you are a funny man, maybe that's why they didn't eat you, make the wolfsbane taste funny, make it more fun to eat, that man was going to cut you up and make wolfsbane grow quicker, he killed by wolf pet so I took something important to him didn't care to save you but sometimes it's okay to make mistakes..”
William both angered and confused by her comment said little more than a “okay..” before she continued.
“Yes I'll take you back to the village and then you can get on the wooden fish and leave and be safe, the people in town are bad, already eaten the other jesters when you left”.
“What” barked William “they can't be gone, I only left about an hour ago”
“Yes they don't need to cook the jesters they just take small bites then feed the rest to the beast he likes them still warm”.
“The beast? What kind of beast”
With a joyful skip despite the depressing news of the departed crew. News that William hardly believed but it still made him uncomfortable. She beckoned him to follow and they went back to the village through the dense shrubbery.

William and the girl arrived back at a small rocky ledge overlooking the village and to Williams dismay the dirt path in the middle of the village was covered in blood and chunks of gore. One of Williams men barely over the age of 16 was crawling amongst the gore and a speed unexpected for a man with that many lacerations to his body. His ribs could be seen almost pouring out of his stomach. And then William saw it, the beast. A large black wolf on its hind legs stood over the young man's withered body and with a blood curdling howl the beast picked him up and ripped him into spilling the man's entrails all over it's face and devouring him large chunks at a time. William gagged at the sight and turned to the woman, she was gone.
William attempted to turn but a quick swooping noise accompanied with a hit to the back of the head rendered William unconscious. He had been stuck in this cell ever since. The people of the town had been fattening him up with luxurious foods and giving him frequent baths preparing for the next full moon. The beast was, as William soon came to know, a creature straight out of Formarothian legend; a werewolf and William was it’s next meal.

***

William had played that scenario over in his head for the weeks he'd spent in the cell a part of him angered by the woman for abandoning him, another part acceptant of his fate. This day was different from the rest as he'd been fed twice today already so when his cell opened a 3rd time he realised that the full moon was due tonight and William was preparing for his final curtain.
He was brought from his cell placed in the courtyard with a bonfire at his back and a large circle made by the villagers who surrounded him. As they waited, surrounded by silent watching eyes William stood graciously waiting for his inevitable death.
Suddenly howls echoed around the village the stench of blood filled the air and villages dropped to there knees overwhelmed by their masters coming.
Suddenly the tree above began to russell and crack. William looked up to see the large black figure sat perched on the tree above and with a blood curdling howl the hunt started. The creature lept from the canopy and landed in the centre of the circle.
With the energy of a man half his age William reached back and grabbed a burning log which smoldered and burnt his hand but it was a gentle tickle compared to what the beast would do to him. Swinging the burning log with nothing but adrenaline and wood protecting himself William shouted “c'mon then you bastard, I hope you choke” he closed his eyes ready for the sweet embrace of death but with gasps and screams the villagers began to run and flee from the scene and when William opened his eyes he saw a single arrow piercing the beasts eyes entering the side of its skull and exiting through the other side. The beast had been blinded and starting to blindly swing it's claws shredding the villagers who had gotten to close. Through the Chaos William heard a voice shouting above the crowd “I saved the jester again” as a second arrow pierced the beasts stomach. The frenzied creature jumped towards William knocking him on his back the a large gash on his arm the beast stood above William clearly smelling his blood and it started to blindly swing above his head missing by inches as William grabbed the arrow that had been lodged in its stomach. He pulled and pushed, when the beast sank its teeth into his shoulder he kept pushing, when another arrow shot into the beasts skull he kept pushing. He didn't stop until the sound of tearing flesh and the pained howl of the beast echoed to little more than a scream. As the beast grabbed at its newly disemboweled stomach vague movements which resembled a scared man started to take shape before one last futile howl left the beast falling backwards to die under the moon that had governed its life.

The fight had left William with a bite on his shoulder and a gash on his arm but the woman who'd saved him a second time had been swarmed by the villagers all of who planned to throw her on the fire.
William stood still shaking from the pain in his arm “put her down now” and with that the villagers let her down and murmurs filled the crowd as one by one they kneeled before William claiming him to be the new master of the village. He stood above this villagers red in the face from anger but calmly announced “whiskey I need lots of whiskey then everyone go into the tavern and we'll all celebrate, and someone bring a create of spiked wolfsbane to my boat” with that 3 villagers ran off to get some casks and bottles of whiskey (that they had stolen off some unfortunate merchants) while the others quickly marched towards the tavern preparing for a celebration and one man ventured into the forest.

***

The whiskey arrived, the villagers began their celebration and William had his spiked wolfsbane delivered to his ship the woman watched him with nothing but malicious intent
“the jester in now the master” she scowled, she had been tending to William’s wounds and had it not been for her he would have bled out long ago. Still even with her skill at healing the speed at which William had recovered was strangely remarkable. So much so it filled her with suspicion.
“No” he replied “the merchant is a good man don't forget that, but do you have a name?”
“Amaranthis” said the woman watching as William as he poured some of his whiskey on the wall of the tavern emptying his bottle.
“Well Amaranthis your good with a bow” as William stuck his knife into a cask of whisky. “I'd like you to come with me, become a bodyguard for this traveling jester” he said through a faint smile.
“I can't I've never left the forest I've only met a few people I couldn't” she said a slight panic in her voice
“You can and you will” he said “I'll race you to the ‘wooden fish’” she paused for a moment still contemplating the offer that had been made to her. It was true that she had no experience fo the outside world and the thought of leaving the forest scarred her. However part of had always longed to see the greater world, to see whether the stories told by the forest tribes were true; The stories of the metal men who fought with steel knives the size of people, the chieftains who wore gold upon their head and the stone huts built as high as mountains. She looked as William and giggled, acknowledging the humour of her broken language.
She ran out the tavern passed all the villagers “I'll be right back” William shouted to the villagers who in turn bowed low, hauling the leaking whiskey cask across the wooden floor of the tavern. He was unsure why they worshiped him so, perhaps it was some weird trial; ‘whoever defeated the werewolf would be worthy of their leader’ or something. Not that William really cared about the traditions of these deluded crazies. After leaving the ramshackle tavern and stepping into the fresh late night air William quietly grabbed a nearby pitchfork and placed it through the handles, baring the door and leaving the villagers inside. He looked towards Amaranthis starting to gain some distance “OI” he shouted “remember I'm a good man” and with that he dropped a candle he had grabbed on the way out into the pool of whiskey watching as the trail of fire slipped under the door igniting the entire tavern filled with the villagers. “Sometimes being a good man means being the lesser of two evils” he said to himself as he listened to the screams and banging of the villagers trapped in the burning building. He was finally ready to come home.

Ignocious’s new lab was far more crowded that he liked. With the new funding his grace had granted to him, Uncle had purchased a small warehouse within the dock district, a location that merchants would kill just to have a chance of obtaining. As much as Ignocious wanted to remain in the comfort of his own home to do his research, he understood that this was a far more efficient place work. For one his home was far too small and Ignocious did not like the idea of inviting other alchemists into his home. For another the warehouse was located right next to the docks, a handy place to unload new ingredients and resources without much effort. However Ignocious still couldn’t bear the distractions the other Alchemists he had to now work with presented. Mercifully they didn’t talk much, at least not to him, no doubt due to Ignocious’s reputation. But it was the little things that caused Ignocious much grief; from the occasional cough to the sipping of water, such were enough to break his concentration. The noise of the docks were proving to be even more of a distraction. All day he had to listen to the druken, swearing ramblings of the sailors and the noise of loading and unloading cargo into the nearby docks. Yesterday there had been a tremendous noise a couple of warehouses down from him, as if there had been some sort of explosion (rather ironic that it hadn’t been his warehouse). While the other alchemists had left to see what had happened, Ignocious had stayed and tried his best to remain focused on his work. Furthermore to add to his frustrations his shipments of supplies from the imperium had suddenly halted for no apparent reason. While the supplies he needed were still available here in Formaroth it would take weeks before he found a reliable supplier, meaning that his work quota would be significantly set back. At the very least it seemed everyone else was also having the same problem meaning that the fault was on the imperiums end, Ignocious suspected another slave riot. As such Alasdair could not blame Ignocious for his shortcomings. Despite all of the past weeks frustrations Ignocious was in a good mood today. Now that he was on the De Reimer’s payroll he had been able to hire some mercenaries to retrieve a very important object. Something that he had discovered many years ago but did not have the means to take with him at the time, nor the funds to have it transported. For years he had lived in fear that someone else may have taken it or that it may have been damaged, no longer. They had arrived during the morning before any of the other alchemists had arrived, transporting a tall figured wrapped in many sheets of cloth. While it was unclear what it was under all the sheets, it stood twice size the height of a man and based off how the wagon the mercenaries used to transport it creaked, it was extremely heavy. Even when lying down in the wagon it attracted the stares of numerous passersby as it slowly lumbered it’s way down the street. Ignocious who had received word from their scout they would be arriving soon had waited outside his new lab for near an hour before they finally arrived with his prize. It took eight men to carry the figure into Ignocious’s private quarters while Ignocious paid their leader what was owed. The man was head of the mercenary group known as the ‘Silent Crows’ and given how much Ignocious was willing to pay them for this mission had decided to oversee it himself. The Silent Crows were well known within Sypius, not for their skill in battle or even for their reliability, but for their secrecy. It was said that a member of the Silent Crows would rather slit their own throat then give up the secrets of their employers, something that Ignocious was very much relying on.

As the day pressed on, Ignocious grew ever restless as he spent his time on simple and monotonous tasks, knowing what was waiting for him in the other room. He was paranoid that Uncle may arrive and call him into Ignocious’s quarters to discuss business. He wasn’t ready for Uncle to know about this, not until he had his own time to spend with it. Eventually the day came to a end and the other alchemists headed back to the guild. Ignocious himself remained behind, an act that surprised none of the other alchemists; staying behind long after everyone else was a common thing for him. Once they left Ignocious headed straight for the front door locking it before heading into his own quarters and locking that door behind him. He looked at the hulking figure in front of him and without another moment's hesitation eagerly removed the sheets. Once he had he stepped back and admired what stood before him. It looked exactly the same as when he had found it in those dwarven ruins all those years ago. The dwarven golem, the stone guardian one of the few remaining remnants of a forgotten age. Somehow even without the many layers of sheets it looked even more imposing, with a hulking back and two massive stone hands. Utop each wrist were slots that Ignocious theorized were originally meant to house steel blades. Half its face had long eroded away but the other side was still in good condition. It looked strangely human despite it being constructed by the dwarves, who in many other art depictions (including their own) looked very different. Thin cuts in the stonework ran along the body and were far darker in colour than the rest. Based of his research Ignocious could guess why. Ignocious placed his hand upon the Gollem’s chest.

“Soon you will be resurrected. My warrior of stone”.

Rosita De Reimer made her way down the cold stone underground passage, followed by a entourage her own personal guards, a dozen in total. She had grown suspicious of Alice Budwin’s actions in the recent months, but hadn’t been able to find any concrete evidence against her. Today she had finally had enough. After all the question dodging, vague answers and blatant lies she had decided to find out what was truly going on with the high magister’s research. With her personal guards she had raided Alice’s lab, much to the protest of her workers. After a lengthy search it seemed as if the raid had been for nothing, until one of the guard noticed a trapdoor beneath her dresser. After apprehending Alice’s workers Rosita and her soldiers had gone down the trap door into the passageway bellow. They had been traveling for some while now as Roita continued to walk in disbelief. How long had this passage existed for? How did Alice know about it? And how far did it go? Rosita wouldn’t be surprised if she had left the city by this point. Eventually candle light appeared at the end of the tunnel and it seemed they had reached the whatever lab Alice had tried to hide from them. Rosita was about to approach until she heard a voice from up ahead.

“Is that you Jerom” Came a voice. In an instant Rosita’s guards pulled her back behind them, drawing crossbows and blades as they did. When the voice got no response he called again “Hello, who’s there” said the voice as a silhouetted figure appeared in the doorway of the lab “By the go-” The voice said in surprise, though he had no time to finish his sentence as he was soon felled by a crossbow bolt. In response two more panicked voices were heard from the other room as both of their silhouettes appeared in the doorway. Though this time is was accompanied by a bright flash as lightning and fire shotting down the passageway

“MAGES” shouted one of the guards up front, just before he was incinerated by the lightning bolt. Rosita crouched and covered her head for protection, not that that it would do much against magic. The fighting ensued before finally silence once again fell. Rosita plucked up the courage to look up and was relieved to see that her own guards had won the fight with both mages killed by well placed crossbow bolts through their necks. However it was not without casualties. Only four of her guards had survived; the ones who were armed with the ranged weapons. The rest had either been burnt to a crisp or completely splattered into little pieces. She was even more relieved to see that the captain had survived, for he was the only member of her guard she knew well.

“I believe that was all of them my lady, but I would advise retreating, it is too dangerous for you to be here” The captain said as he reloaded his crossbow.

“I appreciate your concern, but if there were another mage down there they would have already finished us off” She said with a pause. While this was partially correct, it was also a attempted bait to see if anyone was potentially waiting for them. In response the captain and his men aimed their crossbows at the doorway waiting for anyone to appear. After a minute passed and no one showed themselves the captain gave the signal to the rest of his men who all slowly made their way towards the door and entered the room. The captain waited with Rostia and would buy her time to escape should someone else be discovered. From the room there was no sound of fighting, only the sound of the occasional gag and swearing. Eventually they called out.

“All clear” said one of the men, though his voice was shaken “Captain, My Lady this is...I...your going to have to see this” he stammered. Both Rosita and the Captain looked at each other a worried look in their eyes, before they made their way down the passageway to rejoin the surviving guards. As they entered the room Rosita immediately threw up. The first thing that hit her was the smell; even before she entered it smelt like something had died and it turned out that had been exactly the case. The floor, walls and ceiling were all stained with blood and flesh. The tables that scattered the room were covered in bloody rags and various hideous tools with the only clean table being the one stacked high with books and scrolls. In the center of the room were hundreds of runes that created a circle in the center of which was a red gem. But most disturbing of all were the cages of lifeless naked people that stood at the edge of the room. As still and dead as they might have seemed, they were very much alive, making no noise or even moving save for their breathing and the occasional blink. They were under some sort of enchantment or drugged Rosita did not know, what Rosita did know what that she was right to be suspicious. But even she did not expect this atrocity. Once she had composed herself she looked back over to the captain.

“My lady-” He stammered. He was a hardened war veteran, a man who had seen many horrors in his life and yet even he was shaken by what he saw before him. Though she was even more disturbed by the terrors that surrounded her Rosita was quick to action

“Send a letter to both my Cousins and brother immediately. Let it be known that High Magister Alice Budwin is a blood mage”.

The heat of northern Beilokias had finally subsided now that the evening had arrived. Throughout the day Revalor Elian had three slaves fanning him and even that couldn’t relieve his discomfort. It didn’t help that one of them had collapsed from heat exhaustion. He had heard that the Humans from the Uzgobian deserts hunted, traveled and even fought in these conditions, not that he could see how. He was currently seated on a cushioned chair on the balcony of Fort Folamar, drinking a glass of Palm wine that he had had chilled by a mage. Palm wine was a alcoholic beverage native to the eastern parts of Seikatsu and very expensive here in the Imperium. Fort Folamar was a architectural wonder built into the side of a cliff face, overlooking the biggest port in northern Beilokias. Alongside Revalor was High General Neldor, the highest ranked general in the imperial army. His accomplishments dwarfed the achievements made by any of the other high generals making them seem irrelevant by comparison. The man was a tactical genius, and Revalor was to be his second in command.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to a glass High General. The taste truly is spectacular” Revalor said as he raised his glass.

“I do not drink while working” Replied Neldor bluntly. Not only did he grow tired of Revalor’s nonchalant attitude towards the mission bestowed upon them by the empress herself, but the man had been appointed to his position through his political connections rather than his skill in battle. While he claimed to be a master at the art of war Neldor had yet seen anything that proved this to be the case. “Besides I wouldn’t get too comfortable, we will soon be boarding alongside the rest of the men. He said as he pointed to the port bellow. The port was filled with endless imperium soldiers who flooded the port and surrounding land. All of them were boarding a vast fleet that stretched farther than the eye could see. Neldor had been granted been granted three of the seven imperial legions and over half of the imperiums fleet. A force of a few hundred thousand along with hundreds of ships all with one purpose. To conquer the human land of Seikatsu and eventually Formaroth itself.

“It is time we finally delivered justice to the humans after the humiliation we suffered four hundred years ago. They will accept their natural place in the world or I will destroy them”

Lanaya considered what had occured since her rescue as she circled the Nyhem castle. She had taken to flying everywhere since then, or at the very least taking a carriage. She didn’t trust the streets anymore. If she could be caught off guard once, she could be caught off guard again. In this time of deepening intrigue and religious lunatics, she could not afford such a risk.

As she alighted on the castle battlements, she shed her bird form, returning back to her natural body. She winced as phantom pains became real again. Despite a visit to Nyhems finest magical healer, several of the deeper cuts and more severe burns were still present. They still caused pain, and beneath her dress she was still bound in many bandages. She felt like an embalmed creature from the northern desert tribe myths. She was sure that if Drevala had been there to help, she would’ve been better off.

Lana reflected, as she walked through the halls towards the council chambers, that she had still heard nothing from the Blackwells. Any of them. Despite everything, the man that claimed to love her had not rescued her, and had not even sent a letter asking after her following her sudden absence. She was beginning to wonder if Eli Blackwell had played her for a fool in the name of lust that night.

She questioned, as she entered the council chamber, if perhaps it was here, and not Alenius, that she belonged after all. She had not acted on her loyalties thus far, and so none here would be any the wiser if she returned whole heartedly to the Concord’s cause.

Entering the council chambers, she noted that Isabel De Reimer was already here, and looking decidedly - even unhealthily - pale. Lana did not react, too focused on refusing to show any weakness or pain in front of the high and mighty of the land. She took a seat, looking stoic all the way, as if nothing at all had been amiss and this was just like every other mundane council meeting.

Alasdair stared at Lanaya as she entered the Chamber. She walked in as if she hadn't endured the horrific torture only a week earlier. However Alasdair could tell she was only trying to hide the pain, she walked and acted almost too deliberately, as if she were someone else trying to imitate Lanaya. However right now Alasdair's concern was for his sister, she had recently fallen ill, very worrying given she was with child. He had enlisted the help from the alchemists guild who had provided numerous remedies, however it was currently unclear if they were working. He could only hope the symptoms would soon pass, for now he had to attend to the council.

“Have you been successful in rebuilding your company since we last spoke” Alasdair said to Claus once Lanaya had sat down.
Looking up from his deck of cards, Claus gave Lanaya and Isabel a good observation before answering.

-”I have gotten about two thirds the way, finding recruits capable enough with the right mindset is hard considering the level of skill i demand. But the new mage detachment is ready and i’ll have to begin integrating them into the company. I suppose you don’t want war magic being practiced in the city so i’ll have to find a good abandoned spot to do it.” After answering Alasdair he gave Isabel another observation with a slight frown.

“The old watchtower south of Nyhem was used by the mages of the imperial army for training before it’s regiment was disbanded. It makes sense we use that again, it would save us the time and money of building a new training yard” Isabel said meekly. Normally she would have responded in her usual snarky and smug manner, but today she had neither the temperment nor the care to do so. She just wanted the meeting to end quickly so she could return to her bed chambers and rest.

Claus nodded, gave Alasdair a look and said.
-”Should she even be here? Look at her, it seems she’s dying or something, reminds me of when the some of the guys got dysentery.” He worded with his usual complete disregard for rank or manners, but with a hint of compassion.
Those who were observant would also notice his ruddy eyes and pained look hinting at sleep deprivation.

There was a sudden silence over the council as no one knew what to say or do in response. Alasdair, Lana and Cerlina gave Claus a disapproving stare, with Alasdair’s being particularly cold, while Alex awkwardly looked away in discomfort. The comment seemingly woke Isabel up a bit as she threw Claus a sharp stare as she wondered whether she had the vitality to argue. In the end she simply decided to answer Claus’s question herself

“It is a simple cold, not something that will keep me from my duties” She said with a sigh, she simply didn’t have the energy to be outraged “besides you yourself don’t exactly look your best at the moment”.

Seeing her back to her usual retorts confirmed she was probably not that ill, alternatively she was just so accustomed to retorts and arguments that she would be doing them lacking half of her organs. Feeling beat Claus simply added.
-”That’s coz i’ve been up half nights writing reports and paperwork for the company, lots of changes to write down.” He was lying, more like a half truth, he didn’t let the comment linger for long.
-”We wouldn’t want any more new councilmembers, there’s been enough rotation on those lately… I’ll be using the old watchtower with your approval boss.” He ended by turning to Alasdair.

“You should start referring to him as your grace by now. You have been on the council for near three months now” Celina responded firmly. While she respected Claus for saving her homeland from the Alliance, she didn’t like how he seemingly was given free reign when it came to his etiquette in regards to his peers and even superiors. Even as the head advisor who still referred to everyone by their proper titles.

Lana was beginning to look annoyed at what she deemed extraneous chit chat. “Please. We have all been through difficult times of late. Let us move on to more important topics quickly, that we may all get the rest we sorely need.” She mostly looked at Claus through this stern talk, but also threw an annoyed glance Celina’s way.

Claus simply gestured toward Lanaya in an approving way.

“In which case let us start with today's most pressing issue” Alasdair stated, he too wanted to move on with the meeting. If Claus wasn’t going to use his proper title by now he never would. “I have recently received word from my Cousin Rosita De Reimer from Cawaport. It seems High Magister Alice Budwin is a blood mage and responsible for numerous heinous crimes. Furthermore our sources in Alenius confirm that she has defected to the Blackwells after her crimes were discovered, making her a traitor as well. She is an enemy of the Empire and a dangerous one at that”.

Lana watched the Emperor as he spoke, her expression slowly becoming more and more dire as he continued. Her mind raced, trying to run through all the potential ramifications of the news. But beneath that, she felt incompetent and blind. How could she not have noticed? How could such a terrible, immoral thing as blood magic have passed her by? Worse, she had brought Alice, a Magister outranking herself, into the Mages Collective. Lana could only hope that Alice had not been able to sway any of them to her views thus far. Such was the mental chaos invoked by the many possibilities, that she remained silent a fraction longer than might’ve seemed appropriate.

-”Blood mage?” Claus’ words interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to the present. -“Doesn’t seem like a job for the fist.”

“Indeed it is not.” She replied. “This is dire news. I will ensure that the Circle is notified as soon as possible. They have contingencies in place for this… to an extent.” Lana did her best to keep her feelings from her voice, but under the circumstances it was difficult.

“Unfortunately the Circle, by recent decree of ‘King’ Eli Blackwell, are no longer allowed to operate within Blackwell territory. It seems that both he and Alice plan to create their own mage Circle, using the Collective as their flagship” It was here that Alasdair turned to Lanaya with a look of severity on his face “Which brings us to another matter. During your absence, High Magister Budwin, with help from High Magister Barden, took control of the collective. They managed to convince a large majority of the organisation to join them in defecting to the Blackwells”.

This time, Lana was rendered entirely speechless, the blood draining out of her face as Alasdair delivered news of yet another severe setback to her plans. She could feel all of her hard work over the years slipping away through her fingers like so much sand. The betrayal of those who she believed to be her closest allies struck deep. That Eli had condoned their actions and barred the Circle from interfering without a single word to her of it only confirmed in her mind that he never loved her at all.

It was all she could not to simply break down in tears or fly into a furious rage on the spot. Instead, she simply sat, still and quiet, focused intently on a blank spot on the table.
Alex began to rummage through some papers mumbling something about.
-”Wait, they can’t do that, or can they?” Picking up his closest lawbook and checking up on different paragraphs.

“You might as well put that book away.” Alasdair said as he gestured to the book Alex was holding. “The laws of the circle were made under Remonnet rule. Now that the Blackwells are their own sovereign state they can pass any law they see fit. To make matters worse Eli has gained the support of Glarmion much quicker than expected. It seems through distancing himself from the circle he was able to use them as a scapegoat for the peoples problems. Not that it took them much convincing given how much they hate magic and its users. And through riling up the Glarmionian population against mages, magic users from that area are running straight into the arms of the collective for protection.”

Lana continued listening through the haze of shock that filled her mind. It seemed Eli Blackwell’s sins against her and her ideals only deepened. The more she heard, the more it felt like a personal attack - a coordinated campaign to drive her away. She focused on this, using the anger to cut through the haze and the crushing despair.

“That peasant bastard!” She snapped, her features twisted with rage. “This is not what the Collective was for. Him and those traitors are corrupting my work!” She fumed for a moment, trying to think of a path forward. Her options were few. “I will go to the circle and have them all stripped of their titles. Their names will be dirt in the Mage world. No more will fall to this treachery.”

A silence fell upon the room as everyone including Alasdair himself were taken aback by Lanaya’s sudden rage. While her feelings on the matter were to be expected it was very unlike her to lose her emotions in the company of others.

“I am afraid that may not be enough” Alasdair said “Now that the Blackwells have both the collective and Alice’s ‘blood gems’, they pose a far bigger threat than previously expected. While we still hold a tactical advantage over the south and Blackwells, our advantage is slipping away, particularly with most of Uzgob now being in open rebellion. More than ever we need the circle to pick a side. We need them to become an integral part of the empire, for too long magic has been neglected in formaroth and as a result given the Imperium a significant advantage over us. It seems King Eli knows this and we would be fools not do the same”.

-Blood gems? Never heard of those before, I assume they are bad news? Claus questioned.

“It’s the word that Alice used to describe the magical power source she has created” Cerlina explained “For obvious reasons she never used the word outside of her own notes”. It was at this moment that Cerlina eyed Lanaya, or rather eyed the necklace that hung from her neck. “Which brings us to a matter we cannot ignore, you were working on the project alongside High Magister Alice, weren’t you Lady Dionisa? And I cannot help but notice that the gem that hangs around your neck looks very similar to what has been described in Lady Rosita’s report to us”.
All eyes were on Lanaya now.

Instinctively, Lana’s hand went to the gem that hung about her neck. She felt a sudden surge of paranoia, as if everyone around her was plotting to take it from her. “This is unique.” She snapped. “Alice gave it to me to test. It has proved quite potent, and with no downsides.” It glowed gently.

“Why have I not seen these notes yet?” She suddenly went on the attack, glaring at Cerlina. “Why is this report a surprise to me? Am I not the Magisterial representative on this council? I should have been first to receive any news related to the practice of Blood Magic.” Her eyes narrowed then, and she looked at the others in turn. The Gem continued to glow. “Unless you suspect me… Go on then. Accuse me. Go over my notes. Go over Aurelia’s notes as well. She helped Alice too.” With that she looked straight at Alasdair, the implications of her statement hanging clear in the air.

A look of surprise and confusion fell over Alasdair’s face. This outburst was unlike Lanaya and seemed very similar to what had happened during the riot.

“You are being informed right now at this very moment. Lady Dionisa please calm yourself” Said Cerlina taken aback by Lanaya’s sudden outburst “This outburst is most unbecoming for a lady of your status”.

“Is that so?” Lana replied bitterly. “I cannot help but notice that Ladies of my status are not being treated particularly well of late. First Aurelia is killed, then I am abducted and tortured, all under the nose of the guard in the capital city. These are dark times Lady Cerlina, and my mood is similarly gloomy. Who knows which of us will be next.” Though still clearly agitated, Lana had calmed somewhat from the all out rage of before.

Claus had just been silent and smugly amused himself with a fine lady going all rabid in front of him when she mentioned her being tortured, where he got a sudden serious look on his face and spoke up.
-”You were tortured? And the old magister was killed, in a few months, two mages on the imperial council. I say the security here is worthless! I suggest two corpsmen on each council member as bodyguards, since there is an obvious threat here. Who agrees?” Claus suggestion was done with broad gesticulations aimed at everyone but his eyes stopped at the emperor.

Alasdair looked away from Claus’s gaze “It is true that I have been doubtful of the castles security as of late. Two council members assaulted, a prisoner escaping and many other questionable ongoings happening. Now that you have finished setting up your barracks, I think your next order of business would be to sure up the keeps security”.

Lana calmed as the two men talked. She felt gratified that at least Claus seemed to be taking her seriously. Still, when she replied there was sarcasm mixed with her sincerity. “Unless your corpsmen can fly, I doubt they’ll be much good to me. I have resolved to move between this castle and my house in bird form, and travel inside the city only when necessary. My Houseguard should suffice at home, though I would feel safer seeing more guards in the castle.”

Claus eyed Lanaya briefly before responding.
-”Then i guess i’ll have to order a few mechanical wings so my men can flap along.” A smirk betraying his humour, no one laughed. He coughed once.
-”Anyway, then i’ll just have them follow you around in the keep. As for the rest of the security i will make sure to look it over. Can’t get much worse than it already is.”

Alasdair simply rolled his eyes at Claus’s joke “See that you do, at this moment I for one will feel safer with a couple more guards on my door at night” Alasdair turned his eyes back to Lanaya, he briefly paused wondering whether he should continue to pressure her after her last outburst. However he wouldn’t let Lanaya off so easy, particularly considering how defensive she got. “Now Lady Dionisa, back to the matter at hand, Do you believe that red gem is linked to High Magister Alice’s blood magic”? Alasdair was pretty certain he already knew the answer. He was more interested in whether Lanaya would tell him the truth or not.

Lana looked defiantly at the Emperor still unhappy that this had become an impromptu trial. After a moment though, her expression softened. She knew that she had very few friends left, and she wanted to keep Alasdair as one of them. “I…” It was clearly painful for her to admit this. “Do not know. Alice gave me a great deal of research on conventional methods to create it, but given recent revelations… I am not sure I should trust anything she has said to me.”

“Come to think of it.” She said, her expression now thoughtful. “Some of Aurelia’s later notes on the research seemed… sceptical… about the entire affair.”

“Sceptical…?” Alasdair trailed off. He fell silent for a moment as he put the pieces together. His face became pale as he finally came to a realization “Alice killed Aurelia” He said aloud, his voice almost a whisper “Aurelia found out and Alice murdered her”. The magister who had worked for his family for decades, who he had invited into the city and keep personally had killed the woman he loved.

The pieces came together for Lana almost as quickly as Alasdair. His conclusion had to be right, especially in the light of all the other heinous acts Alice was committing. “Alice murdered one of the brightest magical minds of this generation over this?” She mused, stroking the gem. “Is there no limit to her depravity? What else has been concealed from us? We must investigate this further.”

With an almost snarky response, Claus added.
-”Or, you go and nab her and toss her in a mage prison. You can hold a proper trial later since this lass sounds a bit dangerous to have moping around.”

Lana turned her gaze on Claus as he spoke. When he finished, she replied with a sarcastic, almost dismissive tone. “While I appreciate your confidence in my abilities… I am not skilled enough to ‘nab’ Alice on my own, and after my recent ordeal, I am certainly not prepared to engage in such an attempt. This will require Circle intervention.” She turned back to Alasdair then, smoothly following on from her comment.

“In fact, this need to bring Alice to justice, more than anything else, will likely serve to bring the Circle to our side, at least in the short term.”

In the time since his revelation Alasdair had managed to snap out of his shock and turn his attention back to the meeting.
“Good. This will be a good excuse to appeal to the circle without seeming we have a ulterior motive. Hopefully this will be a good start to a lasting relationship with them. Lady Dionisa you have far more connections in the circle than anyone else in this room. I want you to head the talks with the circle”.

“That is very generous.” Lanaya begun, her tone measured. “But I am not sure if I am the best person to do that. I am not particularly popular with the Circle… It was me who begun the Mages’ Collective movement in the first place. If they sense my hand in this, I do believe it would be quite detrimental. Especially so soon after the Collective has…” She inhaled sharply, the pain of the subject matter still very raw. “Slipped… From my grasp.”

Never shy to voice his opinion, Claus butted in.
-”So, if you aren’t good enough for it, who do we send? What other mages are there? That guy in the party? One of my new guys?”

Alasdair was the first to voice his response “We need someone with good diplomatic skills, or at the very least someone who has a good reputation with the governing body of the circle. Meaning no disrespect to you Lord Claus but I doubt we will find such a person within your ranks. Sadly along with losing the collective we have also lost both Alice and Barden, our most influential magisters. Lady Lanaya do you have any suggestions on who we should have represent us?”

Lana considered what was said. In a very short time, they had managed to lose all of their politically minded Magisters entirely. Indeed, this was quite the disaster in general for the Circle. Perhaps that turmoil might encourage them to see her in a better light, being the only remaining loyal magister in this part of the world…

“You raise a valid point. There are few others remaining who might even begin to have the necessary expertise and loyalty. In the short term, the way may be smoothed if we make use of Tidemaster Zerrikan, but she will not be capable enough on her own. I will go to represent the Empire. With luck, the circle will understand that I never intended any of this, and that I remain loyal.”

“We can only hope, I trust you will be able to take care of this matter for us. Was there anything else that needed to be discussed” Alasdair replied hoping that he could conclude the meeting there and get on with his duties. The room remained silent and Alasdair continued to talk “very well, in which case the council is dismissed” As people got up from their seats Alasdair signaled his hand at Claus for him to wait “Lord Claus, you will stay, I wish to discuss something else with you”.

Slightly surprised, Claus turned and stood at attention with his hands on his hips.
-”What up boss… sir.” Claus asked the emperor of the imperial concord.

Alasdair resisted the urge to put his head in his hands “At ease, I simply had a question for you regarding the gift the steel fist gave me during my coronation. Namely which smith you had construct it”?
A bit of confusion made itself obvious in Claus face before he answered.
-”Funny, Alenius asked the same thing, thought she would have told you… perhaps she didn’t want to remember our last encounter...” Pouting his mouth to the side in wonder.
-”Regardless. I think it was a Watt, Watt smith. Runs this fancy foundry in town you have doubtlessly heard of him.” It was obvious Claus wasn’t sure and Alasdair could easily pick up his doubt.

“I have not, I often don’t waste my time with the names of commoners” Alasdair said “Only the exceptional ones” Alasdair quickly added as he remembered that Claus himself was not of noble birth “Ask some of your men to bring him to the keep, I have some questions I wish to ask him”.

-”Sure thing, what do i tell him. Just that the emperor wants to ask him about....” Claus was all for this, he lost his momentum and began to motion with his hands as he looked to the side trying to come up with a reasonable scenario.

“His craftsmanship, he doesn’t need to know more than that” Alasdair replied
Making a half hearted salute, Claus acknowledged the task and asked.
-”Anything else?”

“That will be all” Alasdair replied, with a halfassed bow Claus simply left to do his work.

Nizaar had been kept in the cells of Medea for what had felt like at least a week. Though the dungeons themselves were grim and dark, he and Lord Roid were as comfortable as a prisoner could hope to be. They had been given beds, a table, two meals a day and even a deck of cards. Both he and Lord Roid had spent much of the days playing with the deck to take their minds of the currently predicament. Lord Roid had even introduced Nizaar to a new card game native to the lands of Cawanor, known simply as ‘Kings’. Before the battle Nizaar only cared for Roid as a captain and had no interest in getting to know him any further than that. However their time in the cell together had forced him to get better acquainted with the young lord and much to his surprise he took quite a liking to the man. He was young and naive but he wasn’t arrogant, he was also loyal and as far as Nizaar could tell had a good heart. They were currently in the middle of a game of Kings, with Roid as usual having the advantage. However their game was interrupted by the jailor clumsy unlocking the door to the cell. He was a overweight sweaty man who was not native to the lands of Uzgob. He was normally in a drunken state and today was no different. He was accompanied by two other Medean guards of whom one walked towards Nizaar and grabbed him by the arm and led him out of the cell.

“Where are you taking him”? Roid questioned as he threw his hand on the table.

“None of your concern southern dog” Spat the other guard as he signalled the jailor to lock the door. While they clearly had no intention of telling him where they were taking him, Nizaar had a feeling that Fennick had finally decided that he wanted to talk with his prisoner.

The guard dragged Nizaar into a spacious room that held a large table with two chairs on opposite sides. On one side was Fenick, and standing behind him were four fierce-looking tribesmen armed with spears. It seemed like Nizaar had been defanged for the time, but Fenick thought it was always best to make sure with men such as him. Fenick did not like him, but he had sufficiently proved his skill in battle, despite his defeat.

“Welcome, false King. I am sure you by now have become quite used to your new home,” Fenick said. “Let me be brief. I will leave the small talk to a minimum, Nizaar. I hope you understand that your situation. You have not been mistreated, and neither you nor your friend have suffered any bodily harm while in your cell. A less just man would have had you hanged. We have appreciated your cooperation so far, and I will have need of it further. Tell me, what have the De Reimer’s told you? What are Alasdair and Patrick planning, and what is it that could possibly turn a man such as yourself against your rightful king?”

Once the guards released him Nizaar calmly pulled out the seat opposite Fenick and sat down.

“To answer your first question, I know no more of the De Reimer’s schemes than you do. They do not trust me enough to reveal their plans to me. Even if I did know I am sworn to my emperor and cannot reveal his plans to a enemy, my honour has already been stained once, I will not tarnish it further”. After saying this Nizaar’s face turned grave “However my true loyalty is and always will be to Uzgob and its people. You ask why I betrayed my King, it is because his ambitions were tearing the kingdom apart, and it was his people who were paying for it”. At this Nizaar looked Fenick dead in the eye “and you are no different. Your rebellion has once again brought chaos upon Uzgob, and will spread pain and suffering until you are stopped”.

“Look how mightily he protests!” Fenick said, scoffing. “It was you alone, and not the people of Uzgob, who deemed it necessary to surrender. Before you so eagerly pass down judgement from on high, remember that it was the people, and not me alone, who decided that it was not yet time to surrender. But enough of this. I do not believe you would have any deep loyalty to Alasdair. After all, a turncoat does not change his nature. I believe I told you that this would go easier if you were to speak honestly. Perhaps you are still misunderstanding your position. I did not keep you alive because I need you. On the contrary, it would be much more useful to me if you had gotten yourself killed. But you surrendered properly, and I will not kill one who has become my prisoner. But if this is all you have to say for yourself, then I might as well march you back to your cell.”

“What is it you want Fenick” Nizaar asked, his eyes unwaveringly staring into Fenick’s “To be free of De Reimer rule? To oppose the church and see the realm follow your own faith? It will not work” Nizaar’s voice saddened “Andris had five kingdoms supporting him and even he couldn’t resist them. You have what exactly? A few hundred fanatics? Tribesmen who arm themselves with animal hides and whatever steel they can scavenge together? You can disrupt the De Reimer hold over Uzgob for a time but you don’t know them like I do. Patrick will see all of Uzgob burn if only to stamp out any dissentients. I beg you as a man who loves this kingdom above all else, end this rebellion and prevent drawing the ire of the De Reimer’s any further”.

“How quaint, that you speak of the depravities of the de Reimers, yet you gave yourself over to them,” Fenick said. “If you knew the de Reimers as you claim you do, you must know that the suffering they would inflict through war is but a small fraction of the suffering that the people of Formaroth shall have to endure if the de Reimers’ are allowed to consolidate their rule. But I will squabble with you over this, Nizaar. I did not bring you here to hear your excuses, your political philosophy, and certainly not your advice. What I want is information. Perhaps you know more than you are letting on, and perhaps not. I doubt that I shall get anything more out of you on that note, however, so allow me to change the subject. Patrick seems to have put you in charge of taking me out. What of that? What should I expect of Patrick? How will he act?”

“I cannot tell you his plans for as I said I do not know them. But if you are expecting him to march his armies into the desert to face you then you will be disappointed, he is smarter than that. I suspect he will use his forces and the inquisition to squeeze Uzgob and her people. Until they either reject you or be destroyed. With a man as charismatic as Lycaon at the helm of the inquisition, the former is more likely” Nizaar replied, in truth he should have just refused to tell Fenick anything and remained silent, however as Fenick had mentioned he had no true loyalty to Patrick.

“I would be quite surprised if he could squeeze Uzgob’s people dry, as this land is already dried enough,” Fenick said. “You say that he will not come to the desert? There could be no greater fallacy. No, we shall force him to come to the desert. I reckon that even now Patrick, and especially his men, have already had too much of our Uzgob sun. As for Lycaon, I would not worry about him. He is the past. Once the man had his uses, but as he chose to stay behind while I and Johannia strove ahead, he is irrelevant. I think you will hear little of him in the coming days. Guards, I think this one has said all he has to say. Bring in the other one.”

“If you will not listen to reason then you are right I have nothing more to say to you. Though if you will listen to anything I have said understand this; for your own sake do not underestimate Patrick” as the guards took him away Nizaar simply mumbled “Not like Andris did”.
“Bring in the next one, I think he will be less stubborn,” Fenick said. “And bring me two bottles of wine and a glass. I am sure that our next guest will appreciate it.”

So then Fenick waited, as he waited for the guards to do as he commanded. In a few minutes they brought in Roid. Fenick offered him a seat, and he took it. Then Fenick, holding the glass of wine poured it into a glass, and took a drink from the glass.
“Would you like some?” Fenick said. “I am sure you have been thirsty for it these last few days. Tell me, what is your name?”
Roid looked at Fenick with uncertainty, however he soon ceded.

“I won’t turn down wine if it is offered to me, even if it is given to me by an enemy”

One of the guards made a motion to pour a glass, but Fenick preferred to do it himself. He took up the other glass and poured it full of wine, and then handed into it to Roid.

“You are welcome to have as much as you like,” Fenick said. “But while your at it, why don’t you tell me who you are.”
Roid took the glass from Fenick’s hand and after a brief moment of hesitation, took a sip from it. He was unsure what infomation he should divulge to Fenick, however even in defeat the man had treated him and Nizaar with honour and dignity, the least he could do was show him the same in return.

“I am Lord Roid of house Gray, I along with two other lords were hand picked by Patrick De Reimer to return order to Uzgob” He replied proudly.

“Lord Roid,” Fenick said. “I am not an eloquent man, so let me be brief. The De Reimers’ reign will soon fall. The whole land rejects them. My uprising here shall be but one of many, soon. It does not take much to see that soon they shall have war with both the Southern Alliance and the Blackwells. I would like you to join me. You will have your men and your command back, and you have far more to gain here than anything Patrick would give you.”

Roid was taken aback by the blunt manner in which Fenick had asked him to change his allegiance

“You ask me to betray both my king and emperor and forsake my honour”?

“Lord Roid, I offer you a chance to fight on the right side of this war,” Fenick said. “I will allow you as much time as you need to think on it. But remember what I have said here. The De Reimers still reign for now, but one day they will fall.”

“And why are you so certain that you, a fanatical desert dweller will succeed while the De Reimer’s will fail” Roid questioned before quickly drinking his wine, he suspected this conversation wasn’t going to last long and wanted to enjoy his drink before it was taken away.
“As I said, the de Reimer’s shall face stiff resistance everywhere,” Fenick said. “His armies are tired, and his resources are spent. War with the Blackwells and the Southern Alliance will come soon, and their fresh troops will tear apart the de Reimer’s armies. In the meantime, rebellions here and elsewhere will spring, and in the end the Alasdair will be swallowed up by his endless list of enemies. Know this, Lord Roid - you may call me a fanatic, but my war was never about religion. That is a battle for another time. I follow the new Church, but many of my new allies follow the old Church. I have one aim, and that is freeing these lands of the de Reimers’ grasp. But I think I may have misjudged you. As you say, I am just a desert fanatic and you are a loyal follower to the de Reimers. Feel free to enjoy your drink as long as you like. I will not take that away from you.”

“Very well” Roid said as he reached for the bottle of wine for a refill, before he could take it however the bottle was snatched away from him by one of the guards. Roid looked at the man bitterly as he finished what was drops were left in his goblet and turning to Fenick “I will consider what you have said, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Chances are Patrick will arrive here soon with the Cawanorian soldiers he brought, and unlike that unprofessional mob that we lead they will crush this rebellion”.

“Well, I can at least let you take the bottle with you back to your cell,” Fenick said.

The guard begrudgingly gave Roid back the bottle to which Roid took with a smirk.

“I thank you for your hospitality, it was more than I had expected” Roid said as he stood up and was led away by the guards who had brought him here.

Ser Sayer marched on the road at the head of his army, marching upon a dusty Uzgobian road. He had arrived in western Uzgob and had plans to head further inward in order to combat the heretics. There had been clear reports that a heretical rebellion had begun inward. It seemed that the only thing which sprung from this barren land was insurrection. As his army marched forward, they found a large contingency of forces on the road. Ser Sayer sent his scout to discover who it was. After Ser Sayer waited long enough, the scout returned to him.

“You’ve returned,” Ser Sayer said. “Have you found out who it was up there?"

“The Grim Company, I think they’re called,” the scout said. “Recognized their flags and arms, ser.”

“I remember,” Ser Sayer said. “They fought on Andris’ side. What do they want?”

“Nothing that they've let become known to me, ser,” the scout said. “But I know they’re on the road.”

“I can see that. I have no interest in this defeated band of mercenaries," Ser Sayer said. “I hope that they shall have no interest in us. It would be unfortunate if our roads were to cross once again. Let us hope it does not come to that. The war is over, and a mercenary does not fight for free.”

The army had arranged themselves under Ser Sayer’s orders, and by now everyone knew that a large band of mercenaries were on the other side. Raymond, the man who Herona had once known as the strawberry-haired man but who was now her commanding officer, was walking beside her and beside her teacher, Ser Gwladis. Things were quiet for the moment, but it was not to last long. Herona saw up ahead that the Grim Company, mostly on horseback, had already amassed, and for some reason she could tell that it would end well.

“This’s bad,” Herona said.

“Commander Sayer said that they have no reason to attack,” Raymond said.

“No, Herona is right,” Gwladis said. “I see it as well. They are going to attack, and our forces will not hold.”

Gwladis never said much, but she was always quick to act. After saying this she ran forward to the front of the army and was soon out of their sight. Herona slowed down her marching, and took out of her spear, and began to sharpen it. Several moments passed.

“What are you doing?” Raymond said.

“Preparin’ me spear, ser,” Herona said. “Reckon we’ll be doin’ tha’ same soon.”

Rhaetia rode proudly on her horse and was once again Lady Grim, with Ieyasu riding by her side. The so-called Holy Order was right in front of them now. As they were now they did not look like they fully ready to fight, as if they really believed that she would not attack. It was a common belief, after all, that a mercenary would never fight for free, and as far they knew she had not been rehired by any of their enemies. That lack of information would be their loss.

“Men, once these very men routed us, but today we shall have vengeance,” Lady Grim said. “Charge!”

Lady Grim herself was leading the vanguard of foot soldiers of the Grim Company. She yelled her commands, and they charged. From her hands there came a glowing redness, which soon expanded until it became a glowing fireball. Lady Grim propelled it towards the Order’s forces, and it smashed through the center of several ranks, slaying more than a few men, and scattered the center of the Holy Order’s forces. Officers shouted at their men to return to formation, to keep their shields up, but the formation had been broken. It was then that the charge from the Grim Company’s vanguard came, with Lady Grim being foremost amongst them. Ser Sayer shouted orders for platoons in the and flank to assist their fledging center. Lady Grim, however, sought for the Holy Order’s center to break immediately. As Ser Sayer’s own cavalry went to support the failing center of his forces, he soon found himself countered by the Grim Company’s own horsemen, led by Ieyasu. Along with her men she crashed into the Holy Order’s forces. When she faced the first man she struck with a spell of lightning, striking his armor, and he was immediately electrocuted. Then she enchanted her blade with a spell of fire, which could burn at the touch and cut through armor like butter.

Lady Grim cut down several more men with her flaming sword, as her men advanced. Yet though the center regiment of the Holy Order was failing, resistance still was fierce, as reinforcements from behind came, led by Ser Gwladis’ regiment. Ser Gwladis always led from the front. As she met with the forces of the Grim Company, she rose her sword, and with a single swing quick as lightning she struck down two men. Nimbler than any cat and fiercer than any bear, she struck down every man who dared to face her. More than a dozen men had fallen before her already, and now the brave soldiers of the Grim Company were already cowering at the idea of having to face her. As long as she stood, Lady Grim knew that she would not have victory. The soldiers of the Holy Order rallied around Ser Gwladis, as she slew one after another of the mercenaries of the Grim Company. She did not flinch or hesitate as her enemies swarmed her and slew them one after another.

“Idiots!” Lady Grim shouted. “She is just a woman, not a god! Can’t you kill a single woman!”

“I pity you," Ser Gwladis said. “Even if you retreat, I can no longer allow you to live.”

“You dare to mock me?” Lady Grim said. “I am Rhaetia, the Lady Grim. The elves quake in fear at the mention of my name, the Samurai bow to my glory!”

“We are not in the east now, my lady,” Ser Gwladis said. “Have you ever heard the saying, the dogs with the fiercest bark have the slightest bite?”

“So, I am a dog now? How rich! I suppose that would make me a bitch, then,” Lady Grim said. “Though I am no less a bitch than one of Lycaon’s dog. So, from one bitch to another, let me show you just how hard my bite is.”

Lady Grim conjured up a lightning spell and blasted it to her. However, Gwladis was too fast. The lightning Ser Gwladis avoided, and she dashed at Lady Grim faster than she could believe. Lady Grim cursed loudly, and would have been struck down there, except that at the last moment one of her soldiers shoved her out of the way. Her soldier had been slain in her place instead. Lady Grim did not give up. She got herself up as quickly as she could.

“Shit! Surround her! Kill her at all costs!” Lady Grim shouted. “She must die!”

Ser Gwladis’ company clashed again with the vanguard of the Grim Company. When Ser Sayer had left, he had not brought the best of the Grim Company. Though they had some experience from the Battle of Telmarion and the Riot of Nyhem, they were no match for the best of the Grim Company. In their moment of weakness, Lady Grim decided it was time to strike. With two dozen of her best soldiers she struck at Ser Gwladis. As Lady Grim struck with spells, her soldiers surrounded Ser Gwladis, and fought in a furious struggle. Though Ser Gwladis found herself isolated, she never gave an inch willingly, and being cornered only made her fight that much harder. With a rapidity and a disciplined ferocity that they had never seen before, Ser Gwladis fought. Her body was filled with injuries, as swords came at with from every direction. She brought down with her ten of the Grim Company’s best, but in the end she fell. As her limbs finally gave out, she fell to the ground. She no longer tried to reach her sword, because she knew it was over. Her years of service finally at an end, her thoughts turned to the years she lived, and the places and people she had seen. In life she had never known rest, so now she could only hope that now the gods would give her an eternal rest. She made an effort to close her eyes, and she never opened them again.

“Farewell, knight. I did not know your name, but I knew you better than I have known many of my friends. It was a shame that we had to meet in this way,” Lady Grim said. “Forward! It is over! The greatest of the Order has fallen! Don’t stop moving! Forward!”

The Grim Company’s vanguard continued to advance, past Ser Gwladis body. Before she moved on ahead, Lady Grim cast a small invisible barrier over Ser Gwladis, that ensured the body would remain unharmed for the remainder of the battle. Lady Grim had been in many battles and had fought against a great many who called themselves great warriors, but she had never seen anything like her before.

In the meantime, as Lady Grim continued to push forwards, Ser Sayer led the cavalry, made up of knights of the Holy Order, against those of Ieyasu. The battle was fierce, as charge met charge, and the fighting devolved steadily, as more and more fell and the earth ran red with blood. In the frontline was Ser Sayer, shouting orders as he was fighting. And in the distance, there was the desperate voice of Captain Keithan, that cried, “Ser Gwladis has fallen! Our hero has fallen!”

“Impossible!” Ser Sayer shouted. “Gwladis! Traitor dogs, mercenary cur, whoreson filth, may the curses of every god and demon real and imagined fall upon you! Not even vengeance a million times over will not be enough for this crime! Gwladis! Gwladis! Charge, you ingrates! Charge in the name of my daughter, the greatest soul ever there was!”

Ser Sayer shouted at the top of his lungs as he charged, and his men had no choice but to follow him. Yet the charge ultimately was reckless. Ieyasu laughed at the foolish tactic, but his laughter perhaps came too soon. Ser Sayer charged with fury, and with himself and several handfuls of other knights he broke through the Grim Company’s line. Ieyasu went to meet them. Each of them, each on horses, charged towards each other, raising their lances, almost like it was joust. Yet here whoever would receive death in addition to humiliation. As both of them went to strike with their lances, Ser Sayer struck a moment quicker and with slightly better aim and knocked Ieyasu off his horse with a strike to the chest. Ieyasu was wounded, and felled from his horse, but survived. Ser Sayer was ready to deliver death from above, when a blast of lightning came towards him. It felled his horse, but Ser Sayer quickly rose himself up.

“This makes two defeats in a row, Ieyasu,” Lady Grim said.

“Careful, Rhaetia,” Ieyasu said. “He seems like just another brute, but he is strong.”

“Of course not,” Lady Grim said. “Lycaon only associates with the best, after all.”

“Is it true, that my daughter, my Gwladis, is dead?” Ser Sayer said.

“If you mean the knight, then she died bravely and honorably,” Lady Grim said. “I have ensured that her body has been left untarnished.”

“And do you expect me to thank you?” Ser Sayer said, but then he gave a mirthless laugh. “Should I thank you that you did not defile my Gwladis’ corpse? Honorable death? Hah! She is dead all the same. I imagine that you surrounded her at every angle. That’s the only way the likes of you could have killed my Gwladis. Now that I have you alone, both of you will die, and they will not be gentle deaths.”

Though his horse had been slain, Ser Sayer had risen himself quickly. He might not have gained the skill that his daughter did, but his was style was the same. As Lady Grim launched a fireball towards him Ser Sayer dodged to the right, and never stopped running towards Lady Grim. Then when he was finally close to her, he struck. When Lady Grim parried, sparks filled the air thanks to the spell of fire cast on her spell, but Ser Sayer was undeterred. He struck again and again at Lady Grim, striking at many different angles. Then Ser Sayer, as their blades were connected, tried to push her to the ground. But Lady Grim made a push herself, and made another strike with her blade, and her enchanted blade cut through Ser Sayer’s armor. He bled but did not yet fall. He thrust his blade with the most force yet, and Lady Grim, charging her blade full with fiery magical energy, parried the strike, and her own fiery blade cut clean through Ser Sayer’s blade. Nonetheless, he did not cease, and thrust his broken sword into Lady Grim’s gut, which wounded her, though she was protected by chainmail. As Ser Sayer’s other hand went towards Lady Grim’s neck, Lady Grim struck her blade at his neck. She struck true, and blood spewed from Ser Sayer’s neck rapidly. Nonetheless, he did not die immediately, and as long as he drew breath he would give up. With one of his hand’s Ser Sayer struck at Lady Grim’s hand and threw her blade from her hands, and he put his other hand across her neck. Lady Grim pulled a dagger from her waist and struck in vain against Ser Sayer’s plate-covered arms. It seemed that it was over for Lady Grim, as Ser Sayer’s grip refused to loosen. However, Ser Sayer was bleeding out rapidly from his neck, and after about a minute Ser Sayer’s strength began to give away. As Lady Grim felt her consciousness slowly begin to fade Ser Sayer’s grip finally loosened, and she drew herself away from her and gasped quickly and desperately for air.

“My Lady Grim,” Ieyasu said weakly.

“You have my permission to withdraw,” Lady Grim said.

Wonderful…” Ieyasu said. “Now I just have the small problem that I can’t move.”

Lady Grim began to raise herself up, though she was still gasping for air and her gut was wounded. She was exhausted – spellcasting tended to do that to a person – but she was far from done. The battle was still at its height. The weight of losing its commander had not yet been felt by the Holy Order. The Grim Company would have to keep pushing. As some of her soldiers approached her, she spoke.

“Carry Ieyasu out of here,” Lady Grim said.

“And what of you, my Lady?” her soldier said. “You have been injured.”

“I still live,” Lady Grim said. “When it comes time for me to leave, I will.”

For a moment, as the cavalry saw their commander fall, the knights faltered, but Captain Brandon ran forward, and blew loud upon the war horn. The sound broke through the sounds of battle and rang through the air. It was loud, and as musical as it was exhilarating.
“Men, knights, cowards,” Captain Brandon said. “Don’t think you’ll get off running now that the going’s getting tough! I don’t know about you, but I tend to show these gutless fools something to fear. For the Commander!”

With Captain Brandon leading what remained of the knights, Lady Grim took it upon herself to counter. She jumped on to Ieyasu’s horse and led the horsemen of the Grim Company herself. As she led the countercharge. As knights thrust their lances towards her, she parried their strikes with her shield, and then struck them down with her blade. At the height of the fighting Lady Grim went to Captain Brandon. As the two of them charged against each other, Lady Grim tossed a fireball. It may have been cheating, but she was not feeling well, and was more concerned with winning than with honor right now. When the fireball reached Captain Brandon fell, and when the knights saw this scattered and began to withdraw at a rapid pace almost immediately.

As for the footsoldiers, Captain Keithan tried to hold the line among the militiamen of the Holy Order. Lady Grim led the cavalry to charge their flank. Being attack from the front and from the flank was too much for the militia. As the horsemen broke through their lines, Captain Keithan himself was slain, and their ranks were broken, and they were forced to retreat. Lady Grim smiled. It seemed that the Holy Order’s defeat was inevitable now, though Lycaon was not here to face her now. The Holy Order was beginning to retreat en masse now, and the battlefield was starting to become even more chaotic as the formations of the Holy Order’s soldiers began to dissipate. There were no longer neat formations within the forces of the Holy Order. They were running the way they had come.

Herona felt almost like she was being trampled with all the people running past her. She was running with them, in her own way. It was a mechanical motion, which Herona did automatically, without thinking of it. She saw Raymond was there, still holding the line and doing what he could to stop the disorderly retreat, along with some of the other knights. But it was mostly himself. It was having some effect, but there was something missing. Why should they have any motivation to fight any longer, after having suffered so many setbacks already?

“Herona!” Raymond said.

“Here ser,” Herona said.

“Retreating with the rest of them, I see,” Raymond said.

“Aye ser,” Herona said.

“And will you be satisfied with that?” Raymond said. “Will you be satisfied to suffer a defeat like this, while you run and are chased like dogs?”

Why not? Herona almost asked that to him. She knew that it was a useless question. Truth be told such questions no longer met anything to her. To some, she was sure, such big questions were very meaningful, but not for a soldier like herself. Nonetheless, she knew that it was her duty – whatever that meant – to turn back and keep fighting even if the whole army was retreating. Because the whole army was retreating, she had to keep fighting.

“Never mind that, ser. Got somethin’ up ya’ sleeve?” Herona said.

“If we continue to run like this, without any respect for formation, they will kill us all,” Raymond said. “Do what you can to make sure they do not pierce the mountain roads.”

“Aye, ser,” Herona said. “They ain’t gettin’ through me.”

As soldiers ran past her to retreat, Herona took a handful of soldiers that Raymond bad gathered to guard the mountain pass from which they once come from. She did not know what Raymond was doing, or what his plans were, but at least she could hold this pass. A group of horsemen were charging towards her, thinking they would quickly break through such few numbers. As the cavalry charged towards them, hoping to run them down, Herona held out her spear, and did just as Gwladis had taught her. As the horsemen charged her, she struck her spear and cut through the flesh of two separate horses. Her fellow soldiers did the same. They did the same as she did and stood their ground as their spears pierced the flesh of the charging horses. Then a force of shock infantry that outnumbered them three-to-one suddenly charged at them, but Herona stood strong, and with them everyone else. She would just have to do what Gwladis had always taught her. As the first infantryman came to her, she struck her spear through his vizor and cleaved his skilled. Then just as quickly as she struck she withdrew her spear, and struck down another one of the mercenaries. With her spear she aimed rapidly, and just as Gwaldis had taught her. Man after man of the Grim Company fell at her hand, and none could stand against her.

Lady Grim herself was trying to break their line now. She led a second charge herself. As Lady Grim led the charge Herona carefully eyed her and did something that she had practiced often with Gwladis. As she became close she tossed her spear like a javelin. It was a good shot, and hit Lady Grim’s breastplate hard, and she went down, and did not get up until her men rose her. Their charge was weakened, and Herona did not allow herself or her fellow soldiers to fall before it. Elsewhere, Raymond was gathering the remnants of the army that had scattered behind the mountain pass and was doing all he could to reorganize them. Some came back to reinforce Herona’s position, to make sure the mountain road would not fall. The Grim Company gave two more attempts at a charge, and tried to break through the mountain road, but compared to the initial assault it was lackluster. The Grim Company had lost its leadership, with both Lady Grim and Ieyasu injured and taken away from the action. Lady Grim could have kept watched over them, hoping she could wait them out, but she did not risk the possibility of the Holy Order calling reinforcements. Lady Grim, as her wounds were being tended to, gave the order for a retreat. Yet there was no doubt that this was a victory for the Grim Company, and when there was no longer any sign of the Grim Company Raymond would order their own retreat.

Raymond led the infantrymen as they marched out of Uzgob, leading the frontline of the ranks as they carried out their tactical withdraw. He continued to do so until Captain Simone-Simon announce that they would set up camp. Raymond was glad to do so. He was tired, but not as tired as many of their soldiers. He noticed that Herona looked particularly haggard, her arms were drooping, and her eyes looked devoid of life. As Herona was setting up her tent, Raymond went over to. He tried to help her with setting

“No need fa’ that, ser,” Herona said. “Settin’ up tent’s soldier’s work, fa’ grunts like me.”

“It’s the least I could do, with all you’ve done for me,” Raymond said.

“Ain’t somethin’ a officer’d be sayin’ to one o’ his soldiers,” Herona said. “Just did me duty.”

"Right," Raymond said. He was about to saying something, but then stopped himself. "You did well today."

“Thank ya, ser,” Herona said. “All’s in a day’s work. Tha’ sweat, blood, sounds n’ clanks’ o’ iron, the killin’ n’ dyin’. Ah, but don't mind me ramblin', ser. All I’s sayin’ is, all’s in a day’s work.”

“You seem tired,” Raymond said.

“Reckon we’re all tired, ser,” Herona said. “Long day.”

“That’s not quite what I meant,” Raymond said.

A soldier came up to them and said, “Lieutenant Raymond?”

“What is it?” Raymond said.

“Captain Simone-Simon would like to speak with you, ser, immediately. Officer’s meeting,” the soldier said.

“If that is what the captain wishes, I must obey,” Raymond said.

Raymond had a few other things he wanted to say to Herona, but for now they would have to wait. Raymond walked over to where Captain Simone-Simon was, and saluted. They were still setting us his tent, so he was meeting him outside.

“Ser, I thought this was an officer’s meeting,” Raymond said. “Where is everyone else?”

“There is no one else, lieutenant,” Captain Simone-Simon said. “Everyone else is dead. Commander Sayer, Ser Gwladis, Captain Keithan, Captain Brandon, and others. I have you and a few remaining sergeants. You did well, captain, better than I did. I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if you had not been there.”

“That was more due to Herona than to me,” Raymond said.

“Humility is good,” Captain Simone-Simon said. “But this is simply the truth. I must be honest, my friend, this is unmitigated disaster on a larger scale than I could possibly imagine. You are the only one who can possibly have any idea what to do next, not me. From now on I plan to defer to you as much as I can. I have no doubt that when we are all back home once again you will be made a captain in your own right.”

“I imagine I don’t have any choice in the matter,” Raymond said.

“I imagine not,” Captain Simone-Simon said. “So, lieutenant, what shall we do?”

We need to get a message to Grandmaster Lycaon. He must know what happened here,” Raymond said. “And then we must wait. We cannot retreat back to Nyhem. I can’t imagine Lycaon would be very happy if we were to do that without his permission.”

“No, probably not,” Captain Simone-Simon said. “Still, it is a shame. I was hoping that this would be an easy mission. Why do you think that they attacked us? Does it have something to do with the heretics?”

“There could be no other reason,” Raymond said. “Perhaps they ran into some money. Or perhaps they stole some. Regardless, they must have managed to pay the Grim Company somehow.

The Okin had chosen their position well. The natural rock formations in this part of the mountains lent their own particular defensive qualities to a well dug in enemy and the Okinese had wasted no time in taking advantage of natures gift. Their banner, a white dragon on a yellow background trying to catch its own tail, flapped from a small peak that thrust up from the centre of their line. The summit had been hacked into some approximation of a castle turret and the rounded head of a catapult peeked out over the rim, hinting at the horrors that an attacker might face in any assault.

Hatamoto Taketora Ogata was kneeling on the hard stone, oblivious to the pain starting to creep up his legs, as he stared at the defences. The Okinese had done their work well, a series of trenches reaching the entire length of the ridge would impede any attack severely. Even from where he sat he could make out the bowmen that paced the upper trenches, and above them more bowmen who manned the natural toweresque columns of stone that had been carved and hacked into a shape desirable for men to walk in safety.

This was a landscape that gave the defender every advantage. Only the wind, which was strong enough to push at his cloak, would be of any help when it ripped arrows sideways and tossed them among the stones. Even vegetation here was scarce except in the more sheltered cracks and crevices. To the West and East he could see the forest rolling away far beneath them and the smell of Spring was driven to him by the wind. The smell of new leaves, of rain, and of new life, a juxtaposition when you remembered why he was on this mountain ridge.

One did not become a Hatamoto in the Akaiba Army but sitting on ones heels however and he gave a grunt as he rose to his feet, his right hand never leaving the hilt of his short killing sword. The wind, though fierce, did not touch him through the layers of silk and armour that he wore, all of it dyed a deep red colour like the banner that snapped in the wind above his head. Only his mask was of a different colour, a deep obsidian black.

"It's going to be a bastard." A samurai spoke quietly on his right. That man, Masanori Ito, was one of two captains who serving Taketora, both half his age.

"Yes." Taketora agreed without looking at the other man. "But take it we must." He turned away and walked back toward the edge of the ridge behind which his soldiers were sheltering. Their position was concealed from the waiting Okinese and he knew that the enemy did not know how many men he had with him, the only consolation in the upcoming fight.

It had taken a month of brutally hard combat to push the Okinese back up the side of the mountain. In the end, it had been the weather that triumphed, or rather the Runelords who had manipulated the impossible conditions no man could endure for long on the open slopes. When he had climbed the heights for the first time he had found the small holes hacked out by the defenders to serve as shelter. It was no wonder they had retreated upward when the alternating squalls of fire, rain, snow, and gods know what else swept over them. The efforts had drained the Runelords of their power for the moment and so the ridge itself would have to be taken with steel.

Sentries nodded to both officers as they passed. He did not require them to salute on the battlefield, it only served to mark a man as an officer and any archer with half a brain would target such a man first. He gave a grim smile as he observed the long lines of men crouching quietly together, their armour as red as his own. This was the Dodomeki Regiment, a finer group of men he had never commanded. Each had been fighting since they were fourteen and been sent to the Shoguns legions by their parents. A third of them were proper Samurai, the other two thirds were Ashigaru, well armed and well trained foot soldiers from the peasant classes. A single Runelord was present, a novice who had learned her healing spells and would serve to save a few lives today. All had removed the battle flags from their back at his orders, in terrain like this they would only prove a hindrance to fighting men and serve to reveal their position.

Nearest to him were a group of forty soldiers, each one standing at attention and staring straight ahead without comment. All but one were ashigaru, a lone Samurai among them had been stripped of his fine armour and given a common soldiers equipment instead. Each had committed some minor offence, perhaps a chipped weapon or a missing strap, and had been sentenced to a dozen lashes. They had been given a choice however; they could take their lashes and let the shame of their failure mark them forever, or they could lead the charge against the Okin fortifications. This would allow them the opportunity to redeem themselves in battle, or to die gloriously in service to their Shogun. To a man they had chosen to fight. He was proud of them all.

"Men." His voice was not loud but he had their attention instantly. He felt a warm glow in his gut. With men like this he would conquer the world. "The time has come. The wind will render their archers helpless but make no mistake, the defences are formidable. There are three lines of trenches before the fortresses itself and at least two catapults."

He ran his eyes over the assembled soldiers. There were some 900 soldiers crowding close and he saw the intensity burning in their eyes. This was a generation who had grown up knowing nothing but war against the Okin and to them, at long last, the end might be in sight. For the last four years they had fought and died in the mountain passes, on the sides of jagged peaks, and on ridges that had no name. For four years they had bled for the Shogun and now he would ask even more of them. He knew they would not refuse.

"Beyond this ridge, in those trenches, are the Okin. They came to our lands a hundred years ago to make war on our people and now we stand here, on the edge of oblivion, preparing to finish what they started." It wasn't entirely true, the Okin were not defeated by any stretch but when this fortress fell it would be the last of their high mountain strongholds. "For your country! For your Shogun!"

"HOO-AH!" The roar came from 900 voices and they surged forward as he turned, thrusting a fist toward the distant fortifications.

The Forlorn Hope, the men who chose death over dishonour, went first, aiming straight up the middle of the ridge. Three columns formed like living things, one behind the Forlorn Hope and one on either side as they charged across the ridge. Taketora led them.

He was screaming as he charged, letting the fear that every man and woman felt before battle channel itself into something more primal. His katana flashed in the sunlight, the scabbard left behind where he could find it later, and he wanted to see her shining steel dulled with the blood of his enemies.

He heard a distant "whump" and saw the head of a catapult suddenly snap into view. He could spare no more than a glance at the siege weapon as he jumped a small crevasse and dodged around tall boulder. Then he heard a tremendous crash and shouts of alarm that turned into catcalls as the men of Akaiba ran on. He did not look to see if any had been injured, there would be time to help them later.

Crossbowmen suddenly stood in the leading trench and levelled their weapons at the charging soldiers. The flat crack of their missiles being released echoed across the ridge despite the wind and he saw soldiers in the Forlorn Hope jerked backwards as if someone had yanked backward on a rope to collapse among the stones. Blood spattered the grey stone, a stark flash of colour against all the dull rock, until it faded almost instantly to black.

The crossbowmen fired once more and more red armoured soldiers tumbled, some dead, others wounded. Archers in the second and third line tried to use their own weapons but as he had known they would, the arrows vanished into the void beyond. The bows were tossed down and weapons snatched up, a forest of spears appearing all along the lip of stone.

The Forlorn Hope was in the first trench now and he saw a katana rising and falling, stained with blood. Ashigaru were thrusting into the trenches with spears and screaming their battle cries. His own breath was sounding loud in his earths now as he ran, his feet pounding across the hard ground, aware that several of his younger men were beginning to overtake him as they raced for the trenches. His lungs were burning and he could feel the impact of his feet reverberating through his spine.

With a snarl he pushed himself to run faster, quickly arriving at the first trench. The Forlorn Hope had done their job well. Several Akaiba bodies lay sprawled in the ugly embrace of death, but the first trench had been taken, the dead Okinese soldiers curled around the wounds that had killed them. An ashigaru was staring in amazement at the stump of his hand while another was staring at the blue sky in stunned surprise, a crossbow bolt embedded under his chin. He would look back on these moments later with horror and sadness but there was no time to consider them now.

He leapt across the trench and continued to run for the second line. The survivors of the Forlorn Hope were ahead of him, the samurai in the lead, his katana waving above his head. Taketora felt rather than heard the great stone that smashed into the Forlorn Hope, obliterating the samurai and several ashigaru with him. The stone skipped clean over Taketora and crashed into the column behind him. Screams split the air as mens’ lives snuffed out on the cold stone in this high place forsaken by the gods.

The second trench loomed quickly in front of him. The Forlorn Hope was hotly engaged in slaughtering the archers who faced them. The strange conical hats worn by the Okinese troops were scattered everywhere here and he crushed one beneath his feet. His breathing was ragged now and his chest hurt but he did not pause to help the Forlorn Hope, instead passing by them at a run and making his way toward the third trench.

An archer stood and took aim, the tall bow drawing back until the arrow touched the archers ear. The man loosed and Taketora felt the arrow whip past his face, almost jerking his head sideways. He was so close. He gave a final scream of rage and then hurled himself on the archer. The man had thrown down his bow and drawn a longsword but it would do him no good. Taketora's katana knocked the sword aside and he hacked down, severing the mans shoulder from his body. Blood sheeted the stone and the archer collapsed with a scream as Taketora looked for his next enemy.

A crossbow bolt slammed into the stone nearby before bouncing crazily away down the trench. He looked up to see men leaning over the upper lip of the stone to take aim. Desperately he threw himself to the side, striking his head painfully on a rocky overhang as he did. Two more bolts flashed through the space where he had been standing, one ricocheting upward to hit a man behind him in the groin. The man went down with a horrible moan, clutching at his manhood.

Hands pulled Taketora to his feet as his soldiers surrounded him. He appreciated the help but now was not the time to be saving clumsy officers.

"Go! Forget me, I am fine!" He snarled the words at the samurai who had pulled him upright. The man nodded, his teeth bared in some horrible grin, his eyes wild, before turning to charge along the line of the trench. The fighting was intensifying as the Okinese commander fed his reserves into the chaos. Blades flashed in the sunlight, the keen edges glittering as men killed each other. They killed each other with swords, spears, rocks, and even their bare hands, as they fought in the confines of the trench. This was true warfare, not that so often portrayed in stories and legends. This was gutter fighting as men clawed at each other and heaved in a desperate struggle for victory.

The Forlorn Watch was gone, or at least he assumed they were, he had seen none of them since the second trench. His own centre column was hotly engaged and he could see that the Okinese commander had chosen his positions more expertly than Taketora had anticipated, or been able to see at a distance.

The stones scattered across the ridge had forced his men into a natural funnel and while the front ranks of his troops fought, the rear ranks were easy pickings for the crossbowmen above. The Akaiba needed to break through or they would all die in the trench as the Okinese spearmen formed ranks and stabbed down at his men as they tried to claw their way up the far side of the trench. Already the bottom of the trench was a treacherous mix of bodies from both sides. Blood had pooled in small bowls everywhere and it added to the slickness.

Taketora waded into his men, pushing his way to the front until he stood among the men about to leap into the trench, preparing to force the Okinese back. A crossbow bolt slammed into his pauldron and lodged there, luckily missing his skin. He snarled again and picked up a spear from among the dead, stabbing it at the legs of the defenders. He was still stabbing it when something heavy smashed into his helmet, knocking him to the floor of the trench and blinding him to all else. He heard a cheer from the defenders, cheers of victory.

It was not until after the battle he learnt what had happened. Just as the rock had been hurled from above to crush his helmet, Masanori had arrived. He had been commanding the right hand column and his men had swept the defenders there aside with ease. The natural terrain had been steep but no natural funnel had forced his men into a death trap. They killed the Okinese who faced them and then began to work their way toward the centre of the trench, arriving just as the stone struck down Taketora.

The samurai had given a wordless howl of fury and launched themselves on the Okinese as Masanori and his men arrived on their flank. The Okinese held bravely and more men died amid the stones, but they were outnumbered and outflanked. They broke within minutes, fleeing back up the ramps and stairs that led into the main fortress.

Akaiban troops flooded through the gaps torn in the Okinese line and stormed the catapult positions. The engineers pleaded for their lives and then screamed as they were hurled from the heights and into the chasms below. Survivors were hunted through the cunningly carved stone walkways and galleries. Men still died on both sides as small units of Okinese fought to the death using whatever means they could.

Taketora knew none of this until his men dragged him from the trench and doused him with cold water from a well abandoned by the defenders. He sat up abruptly, coughing water and cursing them all soundly until the pain in his head forced him to quiet himself. His helmet was gone, crushed into nothing by the heavy stone. Luckily for him it had been a glancing hit. Blood had clotted over one eye and he was forced to claw at the dried crust, peeling it away so he could at last see again.

The Okinese banner was gone and the gold dragon of Akaiba fluttered from the topmost catapult platform. He staggered to his feet, none of his men daring to offer help, and looked north. He could see survivors of the garrison fleeing through the stones, their weapons and armour thrown aside to aid in their flight. Hundreds of them. He was thankful they had run, though the numbers did not concern him. The armies of Okin had become little but a shell of their former glory as they scrapped the last young men into their ranks and sent them into battle little to no training. It was the sign of a desperate enemy, and even a poorly trained man could still kill.

He took stock of the men around him. He could see dozens of red armoured corpses strewn about the rocky slopes and among the trenches. Dozens more were arranged in lines as the Runelord moved among them to administer healing, or the mercy kill if a soldier warranted it. The smell of violent death was everywhere, the blood deep in some places, and carrion birds already hoped among the dead. Soldiers moved among the stones, collecting trophies, armour and weapons from the dead. Even their own dead would be stripped before they were burned.

Masanori was standing quietly nearby, his swords neatly arrayed in his sash. He didn't say a word as he held out Taketora's own sword, he didn't even know he had dropped it in the fighting.

"Well done, Masanori." Taketora said with a bow. The bow was low, far lower than one might normally expect and he heard the soldiers around him suck in their breath at the great honour given to Masanori.

Masanori looked stunned as he returned the bow, slightly lower as was appropriate. "I only did my duty, sire."

"And you did it well. All of you!" Taketora raised his voice now so that every man nearby might hear him. Even the wounded managed to straighten their backs as he said the words. High praise indeed from a Hatamoto.

Then, incredibly, he bowed to them all. There was a hushed silence and then every man returned the bow and held it until he turned away so that they would not see the smile on his face.

There was much to do and little time to do it. They would need to continue the attack, though a different regiment would be brought forward for that purpose. The Okinese dead would be stripped of anything useful before their bodies were simply tossed off the ridge and into the rocks below the fortress. The Akaiban dead, nearly forty of them, were gathered together in a sheltered area to be burned. The walking wounded began their decent at once toward the main army encampment far below. The rest would follow with the main body of the regiment when they had been relieved.

Taketora could already see his relief winding its way up the narrow goat tracks toward him. He would be glad to be among the trees again, to feel the warm breeze and enjoy the scent of life once more. He would allow his regiment one day of bliss in the trees and local hot springs before he began preparing them for the next step of the campaign. He would have to report to the Shogun of course but Ayeka was well known for letting his commanders fight their regiments as they saw fit. He would likely listen carefully, perhaps ask a question or two, and then dismiss Taketora.

The battle was less than half a day old when the ridge was empty once more. Only the great columns of carrion birds that had come to feed on the dead gave any hint of the violence that had taken place there. It was a battle fought for nothing in the middle of nowhere. Well, not nothing, it had driven the Okinese from their last high mountain refuge. They would feel the noose tightening. The end was nigh. All that remained was to finish the fight and Taketora wondered how many more would die before that end came.

Crown Prince Heo Jeong would be the last of his line and he knew with certainty that his time was coming to an end. He was sitting alone in what amounted to his throne room, little more than a large hut made of animal skins and stiff bamboo. It was a far cry from the ancient Okin capital of Pusan, the City of Golden Spires, a city now ruled by Akaiba, a city he had never actually been to. He had seen the fine paintings and heard the stories but it had fallen shortly after he was born, his mother and father fleeing in the night to escape capture.

Legend had it that his father had looked back on the capital and wept. His mother had scorned him, saying instead "Why weep like a child over what you could not defend as a man?"

What sort of legacy did that leave him? The shame his father had felt had been passed down to his son and stained the family for all time. Thankfully his mother had died when he was six and that at least put an end to their daily fighting. He privately suspected his father might have poisoned her. Just another dishonour on his family name.

His father had retreated into the hills, leaving Heo Jeong to command the armies in the plains and, for a time, he was able to hold the Akaiba at bay. With the aid of his Vai allies he had fought the Akaiba to a standstill, or so he had thought. News had reach him of their attack into the mountains and the capture of one stronghold after another. He had not stopped them, he had only delayed them.

The wind rattled at the tent again and he pulled his thick robe tighter around him. A piece of paper at his feet was sent flipping through the air and he ignored it. Everything had changed with the arrival of that paper. His father was dead. Killed in the high mountains by Akaiban samurai. He doubted they even knew who they had killed, his father had long ago begun dressing as a common soldier and seeking death. It seemed he had found it.

He was King. King of a broken Kingdom, of starving armies forced to live off the land in the north where the largest town he could claim was a mere thousand souls. His allies, he knew, had lost faith in him. They only supported him now in the hopes of keeping a small slice of Okin between them and the rampaging armies of Akaiba.

His fingers curled around the edge of his robe and he tucked his feet underneath him so that he was sitting crosslegged on his throne. Throne, what a farce. It was a carved wooden chair, there were village headmen with larger furniture in their homes.

He had dismissed his advisors while he read the paper from the mountains. They were hardly the clever young men who once advised his Grandfather. They were the men to old to leave, men who sought to somehow line their own pockets with what gold they could before the end came. There were certainly one or two who stayed out of loyalty but desperate times tended to reveal the true soul of a man and many of his advisors had been found wanting.

Hours, no, days, had passed while he sat on that wooden chair trying to decide what could be done. The slow march of doom was upon him, of that he had no doubt. His family, a wife and four children, had been captured by the Akaiba six months previously in a lightning cavalry raid on their caravan. Already he could imagine them encased in some fortress somewhere learning how to be proper little Akaiba. There had been no demand for ransom, the Shogun knew he had no money. There had been no demand to use them as hostages, everyone knew Okin was going to fall.

The eventual reality had come to him the day before he received word of his fathers death. He would surrender. What remained of his people survived in pitiful conditions and the soldiers who still served their King were dispirited and tired, most of their families had been captured and when you left a man with nothing to fight for but his King, they tended to find somewhere else to be.

Perhaps one final battle. He would lead from the front and be cut down by the enemy, a heroic death, something more than a whimper for the histories to remember him by. But what would that leave for his family? He thought of his children being raised by a stranger, an Akaiban, and what that would mean for their future. A future where they might forget who he was and never know his face. He would become just a name on a scroll.

King Heo Jeong, the last of his line, the last ruler of Okin, pulled his robes over his head and wept.

Alasdair was sat at the desk in his room, deep in thought. The temperature in Nyhem had been surprisingly warm today and Alasdair had left the doors to his room’s balcony open. He almost wished he had asked Claus to send for this Watt smith immediately, however doing so would have raised suspicion from Claus, who’s own allegiance was questionable. While he behaved like an oaf it was clear his mind was just as sharp as his blade. Still, while he understood why Patrick had recommended him to the high council Alasdair wondered if he truly was the best man for advisor of war. His mannerisms certainly left a lot to be desired for the politics of Nyhem. A knock on his door disturbed Alasdair from his thoughts

“Enter” He replied. The door opened and in came a servant holding his meal for the evening. The servant placed Alasdair’s meal and goblet on the table and started to fill his goblet with wine. As she poured Alasdair couldn’t help but notice her beauty, even as a commoner she was easily more beautiful than the majority of ladies at court. Once she finished she gave Alasdair a bow before asking

“Will that be all your grace”. Alasdair gave her a nod in response to which she left the room, closing the door behind her. The meal was chicken breast served with gravy, carrots and sprouts. Chicken was not a meat that Alasdair particularly enjoyed but he shuddered at the idea of wasting such expensive meat.

Unbeknownst to Alasdair, he was not alone. Perched upon the balcony railings was a small bird with a ring of crimson plumage around its throat. Lanaya knew she could go unnoticed until she resumed her natural form, and had thought long and hard about whether she should come to Alasdair this way.

It was quite unprofessional for her to appear out of nowhere to the Emperor, with no appointment and no announcement. He could have her dragged out in chains. Yet… After the news of the day, she was distraught. She had not returned home after the Council meeting, simply flying above the city trying to process the magnitude of the betrayals she had suffered.

Eventually, that had led her here, to the Emperor’s quarters. She had no one else to turn to. All of her friends were dead or gone. All those that might’ve comforted her were lost. That left only him. Alasdair, the Emperor of Formaroth, a relative stranger, an individual whom she had regarded as an adversary… and also the man who had saved her.

Needless to say, her feelings had become complex of late. Right now though, she needed a friend, and hoped against hope that he might be that for her, as he had been for Aurelia in times past. She fluttered to the floor and retook her natural form, eery witchlight engulfing her for several seconds until she had resumed her form completely - a grimace clear on her face as her injuries reformed from phantom to real pain.

Alasdair was just about to drink from his goblet but put it down immediately as a flash of mage light came from his balcony. He was about to call for the guards until he saw the figure of Lanaya emerge from the light.
“Lady Lanaya” he stammered, shocked by her sudden appearance “why are you here? I must say this is very unorthodox”.

“Please… Just Lana.” She begun, maintaining the even tone she usually used in court. “I am not here on business…” She looked away from Alasdair then. “I’m sorry to appear out of nowhere like this… I just.” She took a deep breath. When she next spoke her voice was far less stable than usual. “I didn’t know where else to go. Everyone else I knew well is gone.”

She turned back to him, but kept her eyes low. She was already regretting her hasty decision. “I will leave if you wish your grace.”

Alasdair’s surprise changed to curiosity; it seemed Lanaya was understandably in a unstable state and she had come to him to...confide in him? Surely not. However she had asked him to call her Lana, a name that he had only ever heard Aurelia call her.

“No it is fine you just startled me. Was there something you wished to say”? Alasdair replied more softly than he had before.

“I…” Lana began, turning her eyes back to Alasdair’s face. “I never properly thanked you for rescuing me. You saved me from that monster. When everyone else abandoned me, you came to my rescue.” Her tone took on a hint of venom when she spoke of abandonment, and suddenly she understood why she was here. She wanted to shout, to scream about Eli and his betrayal, and to have someone understand. “I feel I should be honest with you now your grace. I was not expecting you… I expected that if anyone would’ve come to my rescue, it would’ve been Eli.”

Her heart beat loudly in her ears ands he felt her face flush red as she spoke. She was essentially admitting to treason right now. But what more could she lose now?

“He and I were in a relationship. He had even proposed in secret. The dagger Thanatos used to… To torture me… Was a gift from Eli.” Tears began to form in here eyes. “So perhaps you now understand my reaction when I was informed he had not only left me to that monster, but stolen all of my hard work and dashed my every plan to dust.” Tears rolled down her face. There was no going back now.

Alasdair’s face grew severe as Lanaya continued to talk. His eyes turned away from Lanaya as he stared straight ahead of him into space. Alasdair remained silent for near a minute before finally replying

“What you have said is admission of treason. That you conspired with the Blackwells against my family. In any normal circumstance I would have you taken to the dungeon to be tortured and later executed”. At this Alasdair stared into Lanaya’s eyes, his stare was cold and piercing “However you have freely confessed this to me, even when there was seemingly no reason to, nor any way we could have discovered your guilt. I want you to tell me why. Be warned, your answer will seal your fate one way or another”.

Lana balled her fists as Alasdair spoke, but otherwise ignored his threat. She was confident he would not be able to catch her if he did choose to declare her a traitor.

“Because I have nothing left!” She near shouted. “Because Eli took everything from me! My Collective has been perverted by a treacherous blood hag. My friends are all dead or gone. He broke my heart and left me to die or worse.” Her voice was cracking now, and tears streamed unashamedly down her face.

“I have nothing left.” She said again, quieter now. The rage was subsiding to despair once more. Her form almost seemed to shrink, she let her hands go limp and slumped in upon herself. “There is no reason to conceal anything from you anymore.”

Alasdair continued to stare at Lanaya, though his cold glare softened a bit as she broke down in front of him. His many decades in the courts of Nyhem had taught him to read and analyse people like a scholar would read a book. Right now it was clear Lanaya was truly talking from her heart, something that Alasdair never expected to see from a rival. Had he been his brother, her head would have already been removed. Such an approach would certainly be the safer option. However he was not his brother. In truth he had never trusted Lanaya and he was hardly surprised by this revelation. Yet despite everything she had freely confessed her betrayal to him, put herself at his mercy. Ironically enough her confession of betrayal had been the greatest proof of her loyalty to him. Even from a practical standpoint it made more sense to keep her in the concord. She likely knew invaluable secrets about the Blackwells that he could use to his advantage, along with knowledge about Alice’s research. Furthermore she was the only magister of significant renown he still had on his side and he needed her to bring the circle into the empire.

“I have one question” Alasdair asked, his voice softer than it was before “If you truly are being honest with me I want to know. What have you told Eli about my family and the concord. What can he use against us”?

“I told him much” She said, dejected, expecting the worst. “In my last letter, I informed him of your plan to declare yourself Emperor of Formaroth before it was widely known. Prior to that, I kept him apprised of the political disposition of many nobles in the Concord during the war. I cannot think of anything that remains of any real use now. I know of no military secrets to pass along.” She hung her head. She felt pathetic. Wretched.

Once again Alasdair fell silent as he considered what was being said to him “At least it wasn’t information that he could have used it his advantage. Very well Lady Lanaya, I have decided not to have you executed. I shall even allow you to keep your place on the council, but you will tell me everything you know of the Blackwells plans and you will remain here in the keep under the watchful eyes of claus’s troops until your loyalty can be guaranteed again”. Alasdair said, though ironically he trusted her more than he did before, not that he would “If asked you will say you don’t feel safe outside of the keep after your incident with Thanatos, I cannot let anyone know that I allowed a professed traitor to remain on my council”.

Lana looked up to the Emperor then. “Very well.” She said, her tone still somewhat defeated. “I will accept this gilded cage, to prove you can trust me now. I will tell you everything I know of Eli and his plans.” She made to move towards the door, but then stopped and looked directly at Alasdair, a new hardness upon her features, and cold iron in her tone. “But I will not be bound. I will not be chained. And I will not be restricted from spellcasting. Never again.”

Alasdair reached for his untouched wine goblet “I never said I would do that nor was that my intention” He said as picked up the goblet “Afterall it wouldn’t be becoming of-” He was suddenly halted at the sound of a bugle sounding throughout the castle. Alasdair looked at Lanaya with confusion before one of the steel fist guards came in “Report” Alasdair said bluntly.

The guard threw Lanaya a befuddled look as he had not seen her enter, before turning back to the task at hand “I am unsure your grace, but it’s seem a intruder has been found, I ask that you remain in your chamber until we’ve caught the bas-” He stopped himself as he realized who he was talking to “-the felon. Me and my boys will stay out here and make sure you remain safe”

“Ensure my sister is well guarded as well” Alasdair replied swiftly. With that the guard gave a quick bow before mumbling

“Your grace” and left the room. Alasdair looked over to Lanaya. “It would seem your confession is not the only thing to make this day a memorable one”. Alasdair said with a slight smile, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere between them. If she was to remain in the concord, it would make sense to ease any hostilities between them.

“So it would seem.” She replied, her tone even. She had put on a facade of composure the moment the guard entered, but it was a thin one at best. “I will stay and defend you with my magics if you wish. Or proceed to my new… quarters… at once. Will you allow me to take up residence in the tower? Or am I to remain somewhere with… less windows?” She said, with the barest hint of a tired smile. It was all the humor and lightness she could manage with the emotional exhaustion setting in.

“Your work is already in the tower, so you shall remain there. You may leave your window open if you wish, so long as you do not leave” Alasdair replied, knowing full well that a fragile sheet of glass would not keep a mage as talented as Lanaya from escaping. Besides this was supposed to test her loyalty. If he kept her locked away in a basement he would never know if she would abaddon the concord if given the chance.

“Thank you your grace.” She said sincerely. “I appreciate your understanding. I will not take flight.” She bowed, then moved towards the door.

Alasdair held his arm out “Remain here for now. If there is a intruder in the castle then it would be safer for both of us if you remained here” Alasdair said

Lanaya nodded in agreement and waited alongside Alasdair. A few more minutes passed with the bugle still sounding throughout the keep. Alasdair was getting nervous, how many people had infiltrated the castle for it to take this long to handle them? Alasdair once again turned to his goblet hoping that the wine would calm his nerves. But before he could drink it the door swung wide open and a half deranged looking claus stormed in. Before Alasdair could ask what was going on Claus grabbed the goblet from his hand with such a force that it bruised his fingers.

"I NEED THE MEDICUS! OR AN ALCHEMIST, OR BOTH!!! NOW!!!!" He shouted in a tone so deafening Alasdair could practically feel the vibrations. He didn't even look at Alasdair as he walked out the room, gave the goblet to the guards standing outside and stormed his way down the hall. Alasdair nursing his hand simply turned to Lanaya with a look of shock on his face.

Lana’s expression was one of surprise and shock. She stepped back and raised her hands. “I know nothing of this.” she said shaking her head. Was she about to lose another person who she had taken into her confidence? She half expected Alasdair to fall to his desk, dead on the spot. She prepared a quick shape shifting spell in her mind just in case.

The shadow.
Vivian Blackwell, a name that meant very little to her, she had read it in a report regarding the expected threat of the different members of house Blackwell. She was almost impressed, the imperial spies were actually good.
They knew about the disappearance of her father and the death of her sister, names she knew were her kin but struggled to care for, she saw them more like the people who are employing her than family.
Vivian was also more like the name of a faraway princess than a name she felt was her own. In the report Vivian Blackwell was caring for the Sutherbrunn estate, a nice mansion in the south of Alenius.
She slightly shook her head that no one still had figured out that Vivian Blackwell was actually the Shadow, who was currently infiltrating the royal court and had done so for the last year or so and now she was reading classified imperial spy data regarding the location of herself presumably tending to a pretty yard across the inland sea.
Her cover seemed to be better than she'd ever imagined.

Disregarding the rudimentary data concerning her and her blood relatives as non vital, she simply put them back and left the archive.
Wearing a simple light blue servants dress, with a white servants hat covering most of her hair.
Moving out into the corridor she began pushing a small trolley of snacks and drinks.

At the same time, Claus came around the corner behind her and was whistling some catchy tune. Completely in his own thoughts, spinning a flyswatter with a nice loop ring on it that he found somewhere.
As he noticed the disguised Vivian he saw an almost ordinary castle servant, apart from her broad waving hips. He unknowingly leaned a bit and without thinking about it let out a impressed whistling exhale.
Vivian had immediately noticed the bumbling buffoon, known to be a disrespectful commoner who swaggered about the keep like he owned the place.
She had dealt with her fair share of idiot men in her days and she knew how to use her every asset to her advantage.

Claus being faster than her with the trolley he caught up with her and walked alongside her.
-"Nice day ey? Drinks for you or someone important? Or perhaps us!?" He gave a broad smirk even showing some teeth.
Inwardly the shadow was groaning, but she just gave her best smile, checked her hair and faked being abashed letting out a small giggle.
She faked a slight cough and responded.
-"Oh this is for the emperor."
-"Are you sure it isn't for us?" He was teasing her now, she wanted to flee but responded.
-"These fineries are far above my modest pay, would i be caught stealing it i'd be flogged. You would certainly be aware of that ser advisor."
She was prying into his status, perhaps she could swallow her pride and amuse him later for some insight into the advisorial meetings, they were bound to have juicy knowledge just waiting to be taken from under their noses.
-"Ha! Not if i take the blame. You are not responsible if i ordered you." Claus smirked and his devious side showed through. She felt that
apart from his horrific personality this was certainly someone she could beguile and trick.
-"Oh that is just too much ser, i'm overwhelmed." She did her best embarrassed look she could, which was very convincing and it seems Claus took the bait.
-"Ah yes, i can have that effect on some." He smirked and winked, she stifled a groan.
The shadow was now searching for a way out but only needed to keep up with this facade of niceties for another twenty steps or so.
Luckily Claus tried to see if she would be proactive in the conversation, which she wasn't and just excused herself as she got to the emperor's personal quarters.
Only mildly disappointed he let her go inside, nodded to his corpsmen guarding the door and resumed his merry walk spinning the flyswatter.

Knocking on the door, the emperor's answer was clear.
-"Enter."
She had managed to avoid the womanizer, she was relieved. Now she was doing the courteous spiel that came with serving the emperor his meal.
On top of that she did her best attractive walk, it seemed that the emperor noticed, excellent.
Putting down the expensive chicken breast fillet with gravy, carrots and sprouts. she poured him his wine, which she knew was ready.
-"Will that be all your grace?" His simple nod the answer, she did a curtsy, closed the door and left him to his meal.

She left the room, part one of today's tasks was done, she had given the emperor the cup.
Now she would go to the second target, Isabel De'Reimer.
She took the winding path to her room and one of the Steel Fist corpsmen gave a small triple knock to which the door opened only enough so that one of Isabel's hand maidens could exchange a few words with Vivian.
Heavily watered wine, the lady was still feeling unwell so a cup of tea as well.
Now having the order she hastened to the kitchen. She had noticed the extra guards and recognized them as Steel Fist mercenaries, now working full time as imperial bodyguards, this was complicating things but not too much, she had studied their patrols and was confident in her knowledge.

The kitchen was busy preparing the food for the evening, several cooks were chopping vegetables, cutting meat into select slices of the finest cuts and boiling a soup and a variety of sauces.
For practicality there was often a pot of water on heating for a variety of uses and one of those was for tea.
She prepared a decorated brass tea strainer with chamomile leaves and poured hot water in the cup. She twisted her armband preparing it for the job.
This armband had a hidden compartment, previously filled with the poison. Quite ingenious, twist, hold above the container and pull out a rod and the fluid poured out below.
She checked around but knew the cooks and their aides were busy and didn't look so she with an experienced hand poured.

Without warning two Steel Fist corpsmen barged into the kitchen and began to walk about checking everyone.
The shadow only had time to react and look at them when she noticed one of them was staring at her armband. SHIT she thought and stopped what she was doing and tried to act natural.
The patrol was completely out of synch, a random patrol? Change of routes? It didn't matter as the corpsman spoke up with a harsh serious voice.
-"Whose cup is that." Pointing fiercely at the cup.
-"Lady Isabel De'Reimer." She tried to act like the surprised coy little servant girl.
-"I think she won't like you poisoning her wench, Goyle, help me grab her!" He had seen right through her, crap, the two soldiers were coming at her and were not friendly, pushing pots out of the way while closing in.

She took the cup and simply tossed it in his face, he screamed from the pain and keeled over. Shocked Goyle glanced at his friend before sneering and drawing his dagger in a fluid motion.
The shadow knew this was a mission compromised and pulled out a vial from a hole leading to a pocket in her corset and promptly tossed it at the cuirass of Goyle.
The vial broke and the liquid reacted with the air, letting out a acidic tasting purple smoke which reeked of pepper.
The smoke hurt his eyes and he had trouble breathing from the irritation. Vivian just covered her face, shoulder tackled him out of the way and began to leave.
She was planning on simply walking out, but when the cooks aides began to check on the corpsmen, Goyle simply gave a three-stroke warning signal on his bugle. She wasn't walking this one out.

The alarm spread quick, the Steel Fist trained to sound a bugle call when another was heard to spread it along. It took only two calls before Claus heard it and sprang to action, quickly getting confirmation that the call came from the kitchen.
He was there in no time, finding Harper and Goyle getting help from the cooks aides to tend to them.
Seeing Harper in way worse shape, he turned to Goyle.
-"Goyle, what's going on? Report!" Claus snapped a question, Goyle's reaction was trying to look, but his eyes were deeply swollen.
-"Boss!? We saw this servant pouring something into the drink of that Isabel lady."
-"How'd she look?"
-"Blue dress, white hat, dark hair, weird armband." Claus thought about this and remembered the servant he met in the corridor.
-"Did she have a nice ass?" Claus asked seriously. Utterly confused his two men could only utter a.
-"What?"
-"Did she have a nice ass, wavy walk!?" Almost sounding angry now, Claus sounded absolutely crazy while also faking a womans sexy walk.
-"Yeah, i guess..." Goyle's answer was utterly confused and Claus simply stormed out of the kitchen and shouted in the door, ordering his men to seize the servant in the blue dress and armband.
Mid repeating his order he simply stopped, got a worried look on his face and stormed off. He recalled her outside the emperor's room, delivering drinks and snacks.

Alasdair heard a muffled shout outside his door barely a second before he saw Claus kicking it open so hard it almost broke at the hinges.
Terrified he stared at Claus who simply stormed in, yanked the wine goblet from his hand and roared out so loud his ears temporarily got tinnitus.
-"I NEED THE MEDICUS! OR AN ALCHEMIST, OR BOTH!!! NOW!!!!" He didn't even look at Alasdair as he walked out the room, gave the goblet to one of the rooms guards mentioning holding on to it only letting the medicus or an alchemist touch it.
Alasdair's jaw had dropped in shock and gave Lanaya a surprised look. Both at a complete loss for words as Claus disappeared from sight.

Flight.
The shadow was jogging through the keep. She took a few shortcuts she knew well to avoid the soldiers chasing her. She was dodging them expertly but had to double back a few times to get a clear shot at a few stairs she needed to take.
She was sure she had cleared a stair when she rounded a corner, and was met with Claus palm which he slammed into her face using all the weight in his body.
This threw her to the floor, broke her nose and she skidded a metre or so on the carpet from the impact.
Quickly recovering, she regained her composure and rolled to the side ripping off the skirt of her overdress as she did so.
Revealing several daggers, small knives and vials strapped to her legs on a custom harness which fastened on her hips. She drew a dagger and began to stand up.
Claus was having none of this and promptly grabbed hold of her wrist, his strength was greater than hers so she couldn't escape, so she kicked her heel into the ground, revealing a spring loaded blade on the toes which she hit him on the back of the knee making him fall down, landing with a loud thud on his knees.
Now pissed he yanked her arm, took his right hand and began shoking her. Gasping for breath she tried to reach his face with her left hand, then pulled something from her thigh and chucked it at his face.
He instinctively turned away but he still got some of the purple smoke in his eyes. It stung really bad and his eyes streamed with tears which got out some of the irritants.
His instinct to protect his eyes helped the Shadow to escape Claus grip and she began to run off.
The smoke had blinded him, but he could hear her running footsteps, he grabbed his mace and made a calibrated throw which hit her in her right thigh.

The sudden force and the pain toppled her to the floor, just long enough for a couple of corpsmen to restrain her.
Pouring some water from his canteen on his eyes, Claus managed to look at her as she was pushed to the ground by four men, unable to move.
-"You lass is going away to the dungeon. Take her away!" His order met with Vivians vicious sneer.
He realized that he probably should report to Alasdair, the boss would probably be a bit confused after that stunt...

Shogun Sadatake Ayeka slowly rolled upright on his futon, his left leg aching fiercely and he bent down, massaging the damaged limb to restore blood flow, trying not to cry out in pain as the sensation of a thousand tiny cuts began to race through his skin. He hissed through his teeth and waited for the sensation to pass before turning onto his hands and knees, and then standing with the aid of a finely carved wooden cane that lay next to the futon.

The Castle was silent at this hour; the sun hadn't even risen yet, though the first greying of the night sky told him dawn wasn't far off. He stood straighter and stretched his back and gave a sigh as it cracked in several places. The door slid open at once and a maid, bowing low, greeted him on her knees, offering a freshly cleaned kimono.

"Thank you Harue-san." He took the garment and slipped into the soft silk, securing it with the cord about his waist. He no longer carried his swords; age and injury made a mockery of any fighting skill he had left.

"Good Morning Ayeka-sama." A tall Samurai stood next to the door, one hand on his killing sword, and he bowed to the Shogun.

"Good morning Daiki-san." Ayeka nodded his head as he hobbled past the man who fell into step behind him. No alarm or warning had been given but already the castle knew he was awake. Before he had even turned the corner he knew the bedding would be changed and room swept to ensure it was perfect should he chose to return.

A floor of polished bamboo was cool beneath his bare feet; walls of white paper and black bamboo on either side of him. He could smell the fragrant scent of flowers and felt a small breeze caress his cheek. He had always loved the morning, everything smelt new and wonderful in the small hours of the dawn before the sun drove it all away with the intense heat of the afternoon. As he did every morning, he turned at the top of the stairs to step out onto a small balcony that overlooked the castle and city beyond.

The grey sky was quickly turning to blue as the first rays of the sun shot across the landscape; a carpet of green trees dotted with rice paddies surrounding the sprawl of the capital. Ayekas' eyes noted the smart squads of soldiers who patrolled the walls of the castle and colourfully dressed maids who hurried along the small paths between buildings. Seven different fortress gates, all visible from where he stood, began to open at the same time as a deep resounding horn blew throughout the castle signalling dawn.

The city beyond, some of it hidden by the walls and the heights on which the castle stood, was already bustling with life. He could see streets choked with people and animals. The towers and spires of small temples rose up here and there among the wooden roofs. The port, sitting directly adjacent to the castles high plateau, was mostly invisible to him but he could already see the white sails of Formarothian ships coming from the West. A lighthouse, built into the outer wall of the castle, extinguished its light as the sun illuminated the dancing blue of the sea.

"Breakfast, Ayeka-sama." Another maid, holding a small tray of perfectly sliced fish and a tea pot that curled steam lazily from its side.

"Thank you, I will have it here." Ayeka did the same thing every morning but no one dared presume. A third maid appeared at once with a small folding chair and table that were quickly placed on the bamboo. He noted with satisfaction that she had placed them in the perfect location to view the sunrise.

He grunted his thanks again and then sat, allowing them maids to fuss over him as they poured his tea and placed a pair of ivory chop sticks in front of him. Then they retreated, everyone save for Daiki who remained, eyes constantly scanning the castle walls and grounds in front of them for any danger to the Shogun.

Ayeka ignored his bodyguard as he sipped at his tea and took a small slice of fish, savouring the taste as he chewed slowly. The first morning rays still washed the city with soft orange light. He watched as the light chased away the darkness and the warmth of the morning sun finally embraced the whole city. He smiled as he watched several children of the garrison playing with kites on the lower battlements. Some Shoguns might have frowned at the frivolous use of a defensive structure but Ayeka knew what life had in store for children. Let them be children while they could.

Only when the sun had fully cleared the distant horizon did he stand and turn away. He slowly began to make his way down the stairs. Oh how he hated the stairs. Every step on left leg sent a jolt of pain through his lower back and he grimaced inwardly. He could sense Daiki following close behind. Not close enough to be rude, but close enough he could prevent the Shogun from falling down the stairs if needed. Behind them the small breakfast was quickly cleared and the balcony swept.

He was thankful that he only needed to limp down one level at this time. The Throne Room was directly below his own sleeping quarters, which took up the entire top floor of the fortress. Two Samurai stood outside the door and they bowed as he approached before pushing open the small door that allowed him access to the space behind his throne. The colour tone changed here from simple blacks, whites, and brown, to a stunning array of gold and red. Round columns flanked the throne and ran the length of the room. Bamboo tatami matts covered the floor immediately in front of the throne and as he limped up the small steps onto the dais the four men standing before him bowed low. He nodded in return and sat with groan on a small pillow placed for his comfort.

"Emon-san, Hideki-san, Katsuzō-san, and Nagatoki-san. Thank you for coming so swiftly." Ayeka met each mans gaze and they bowed again. They were his chief advisors and had been roused from their own sleep as soon as he left his rooms.

"We live to serve, Ayeka-sama." Emon replied. He was the youngest man in the room and served as commander of the Shoguns bodyguard. Ayeka did not bother to respond; such a statement was expected and polite, as was proper.

"What news of the Imperium?" Ayekas' eyes went to Katsuzō who bowed; he had once been a tall man but age had bent his spine and the right side of his face drooped slightly. He did not hold his position for his look but rather for his knowledge of all things that occurred outside The Three Sisters.

"By last reports they are ready to sail, if they have not already." Katsuzō replied, his voice a gravelly rasp. "Our spies estimated some one million soldiers troops or more."

Silence fell on the throne room as Ayeka considered the number. The number was staggering. Seikatsu as a whole might be able to field comparable numbers but that would mean cooperation between all involved and the likelyhood of that happening was, well, completely unlikely. He grudgingly had to admit the Imperium had picked an ideal time to move against Seikatsu.

"News from Okin?"

"Yes, Ayeka-sama. All good news it seems." It was Hidekis' turn to report. As a Hatamoto he effectively served as the overall commander for all of Akiabas' armed forces. "The last of the mountain strongholds has fallen and that leaves the remnants of Okins armies pinned along the Naga border. I believe General Ryūsuke is moving to crush them in the next few weeks."

"Good. Katsuzō-san?"

"Trade is as good as it has ever been with the Western barbarians. The demand for silk remains undiminished by their civil war. I would humbly suggest we consider requesting aid from them should the Imperium land in Seikatsu." Katsuzō bowed slightly as he spoke.

"A good suggestion. See to it." Ayeka responded, his mind racing as he tried to decide on what would come next. He did not believe that Formaroth would send any soldiers or ships, but it was better to ask now than when the Imperium was smashing down the walls of his castle.

"Leave me." He ordered abruptly and all four men bowed before retreating, the double leaf doors with their red paint and golden dragons closing quietly behind them. For a long while he sat, alone with with his thoughts, as the room grew brighter with the new days sun. The Imperiums movement would force his hand, but he could still use it to his advantage.

It had been at least a couple of hours since Andris had left the castle. He wore a hooded clock as to hide his identity and he had brought his sword in case the worse was to happen. Only Fajera and members of the war council knew of his whereabouts. It had been a few days ago that a meeting was held to discuss the so-called rumours about the old man in the mountains. Not much information was gained but the one thing they did know was that old man on the mountain has been a local story in Deliverance for the last hundred years. Everyone knew that this was impossible, however Andris considered the possible advantages if the rumours were indeed true. Much to everyone’s disagreement, he decided that he would journey to the mountains himself. The Mazeltof siblings were opposition. Ever since the meeting regarding their sister they had been far more abrasive and hostile to Andris’s decisions.

As Andris approached the mountain path he could see that some of the mountain tops disappeared into the clouds. He took a deep breath.
“If an old man can climb up and down this mountain then surely I can.” He thought to himself as he started his journey upwards.

Time had passed, but due the clouds obscuring the sun Andris had no idea how much. Was it minutes, hours, days, months or years? It was as if something supernatural was affecting the mountain and clouding his mind. Andris tried to make sense of things but it was hopeless. He felt suddenly tired as if his strength had quickly been drained from him. He had to rest. Andris then saw a medium sized rock that he could lean against. The weird thing was that he could have sworn that the rock was not there before. At this point Andris couldn’t care. He felt he was going to collapse any second. Andis sat down against the rock and before he could take in his surroundings his eyes felt heavy and fell asleep.

Andris suddenly woke up he looked around him and saw that it was dark with only the full moon to light his surroundings. Andris was shocked to discover that so much time had passed. He knew he had to return to the castle. As he got up he noticed an entrance to the cave located only a few meters away from him. The entrance had not been there before and between that and his sudden tiredness he knew some form of magic was taking place here. However, his sense of curiosity urged him to venture inside the cave. He drew his sword and slowly walked through the entrance. He had only walked a few steps in and then suddenly everything went completely dark. He turned around to see that the entrance had disappeared. Now the only way was forward as Andris ventured further into the cave. It was nearly impossible for him to walk without stumbling, the ground felt greatly uneven and it felt like it was shifting under his weight with every step. Then in the distance he could see a faint light. As he got closer the cave opened into a great chamber with a fire in the middle. To Andris’s horror he discovered why the ground felt so weird. The floor was covered with skeletons, men, women, children, animals and some that he couldn’t even identify.
“I see that you have found my sanctum!” a voice cried out.
Andris raised his sword. He looked around and besides from the area that the fire’s light revealed there was nothing but darkness.
“Fear not, I mean you no harm. Never have I had such an esteemed guest within these walls.” The voice said with a cruel laugh
“If you mean me no harm, then show yourself!” shouted Andris.
“As you wish.” The voice said.
As this happened an old man emerged from the shadows. Andris could not see him clearly. All he could make out was an extremely long brittle beard that almost reached the ground. The old man wore an old torn robe that covered all his body with a hood that obscured his face. However, Andris could swear that he could see a faint but unearthly light coming from the old man’s eyes.
“Who are you?” asked Andris.
“I am but a simple hermit. But I know who you are Andris Mandarass. Former King of Uzgob, Ruler of Deliverance and would be King of Formaroth.”
Andris was shocked to hear his and raised his sword. “How do you that?”
“Please. I know everything about your recent escapades. The petty war in Formaroth, your flimsy claim to the throne and now your current occupation of this country. But I’m not here to tell you what you already know. Ask what you wish to know.”
Andris took a second and then said “People in Deliverance talk about a man in the mountains who was rumoured to bring back the dead to life. Are you that man?”
“You already know that answer.” Said the man. “But deep down in yourself you have another question.”
Andris stood in silence as he thought to himself. “Would you consider an alliance? With your so-called abilities you could raise an army that could be unstoppable.”
“I would gladly give you what you desire.” Said the old man with a smirk on his face. “But I must warn you. My power is not some simple magic by any common mage. Unlike other forms of magic, necromancy requires puppets for me to control. If you want an army of the dead from me then an army of corpses you must deliver. Furthermore, there is another matter” The man continued “Even for a master prodigy such as myself, I can only summon a couple hundred undead warriors on my own. I however have a solution to this problem, something that I will share once I can guarantee your loyalty”.
Andris realised what this meant. The idea was unsettling for him, but the capabilities of this power would be something that all Formaroth would fear.
“I sense the turmoil within you.” Said the man. “That is understandable. I will give you a month to think about it. But before that time comes you must look into yourself and ask what you are willing to sacrifice to win your war and if you do win what you will do with that power.”
Andris was moved by these words and they even made him think about how his past decisions had cost him and his loved ones dearly. Now he would do anything to make amends. If he wanted to defeat Alasdair and Eli, he would have to put away his honour for now.
“As a gift of our new friendship, I will restore what has been lost to you.”
The old man closed his eyes and started to mutter inconsistent words as this happened the fire in the middle of the chamber started to glow a blue flame. Bones started to lift from the ground and Andris looked on in amazement. Suddenly the bones flew with inhuman speed towards his missing arm. An excruciating jolt of pain seared into his flesh as he cried out in pain and agony. What was merely seconds felt like minutes as he heard the bones crack and form into place. The pain stopped, and he looked to see that his missing arm was restored but not in the way he imagined. His new arm was nothing but a skeleton with no skin or muscle in the slightest. He tried moving the fingers and they moved like as if he had never lost his arm in the first place, but despite this he could feel nothing.
“Now go!” said the old man “Leave this place. You have one month to make your choice.”
“How will I find you?” questioned Andris.
“You won’t. I will find you.” The old man said he began to mutter again and with that the flames started to die down and darkness consumed the chamber.

Andris opened his eyes to find himself in the courtyard of the castle. He was back in Deliverance though he had no idea how.
“Andris?!” shouted a voice. Andris quickly covered up his new arm with his cloak. He then saw that it was Maror.
“You’re back we weren’t expecting you so soon you’ve only been gone for a few hours”
Andris was shocked to hear this, it felt as if it had been far longer
“Andris? Are you ok?” asked Maror.
“Ah yes. Yes, I’m fine.” Andris said feebly.
“Did you find what you were looking for?
“Yes, but I we must have a meeting with the council at once and in private. I have much to discuss and show.
The two men entered the castle. Andris knew that this meeting was not going to be easy.

Alasdair was waiting for Claus in the keep’s courtyard, oblivious the the chill of the night. He was looking at the flowerbeds that Isabel had been tending to since she had arrived in Nyhem. She hadn’t been as neat or meticulous as Aurelia, but he had been grateful that she had continued to care for it since the magister’s death. Now his sister was lying comatose in her bed with near a dozen restoration mages and alchemists attending to her. Alasdair had ensured that every trusted healer in the city had come to his sister’s aid. From the wine that Claus had snatched from Alasdair the alchemists had deduced that the poison used on her was ‘Sages Bane’, a deadly poison that targeted the victim’s mind and slowly drove them into a state of psychotic insanity. It normally didn’t cause physical symptoms making Isabel’s sudden illness strange. Several of the alchemists theroised it might have been something to do with the fact she was with child, a matter that disturbed Alasdair even more. The idea that his nephew may not only suffer from the effects of the poison but the fact he may be stillborn was unthinkable. Some hope did remain, the alchemists could delay the effects of the poison giving the restoration mages time to remove it from the body, however to do this his sister had to be induced into a coma for gods knew how long. What saddened Alasdair even more was that he was likely the only person in this city who actually cared for his sisters state. Him and Lord Goodwin it seemed, after being informed of his wife’s state Goodwin was in great distress, much to Alasdair’s surprise. It seemed that he truly cared for his wife’s wellbeing. Alasdair had begun to wonder if, against all odds, Isabel had started to reciprocate those same feelings. She had certainly appeared to be less uncomfortable and tense while around her new husband. Not that he could ask her now.

Claus entered the courtyard with a troubled mind, not that he let it show but he once again felt distressed and unable to sleep.
He tried to let the beauty of the night take his mind off things and it was working to some extent, the pink Dahlia bushes had large bulbous blooms and he grasped one in the cup of his hand to study it closer. He considered yanking it loose to decorate his helmet, but decided against it, mostly since many wouldn’t approve of him vandalizing one of the royal gardens.
In the distance he noticed what was the emperor, his wiry frame and posture gave it away easily.
-”Ey, boss. You needed me!” Claus didn’t need to shout, he raising his voice often had the same effect anyway.

Alasdair continued to stare at the flowerbeds, keeping his eyes away from Claus.

“I have called you here for two reasons. First, to inform you personally of what transpired yesterday evening. The woman who you apprehended was more than a mere spy. She was Vivian Blackwell, or as we recently found out ‘The Shadow of House Blackwell. It would seem she had infiltrated the keep for nearly a year without anyone noticing. A couple months ago she was ordered by her Uncle, Giles Blackwell to poison my sister and eventually myself”. While he spoke Claus closed the distance and was now standing beside him at a comfortable distance.

-”I see, seems this was bigger than i thought. Might be able to forgive me barging in and stealing yer drink perchance?” He smirked and looked at the same flower beds that Alasdair did.

Alasdair suffered a small smirk, after saving his mind as well as giving his sister a chance, he supposed it was only fair that he tolerated Claus’s antics. “I will do more than forgive you” Alasdair said as turned to face Claus handing him a scroll as he did “This is the second reason I have asked you here. By royal decree you are now of noble class. I congratulate you” Alasdair said with a tired smile. To award a commoner with the title of nobility was something that he had never done before, nor ever planned to. However Claus had more than proven himself worthy of the title. “You will have to decide on your own crest and motto, once you do let Alex know and he will officialize them. Just make your certain you are happy with them before you immortalize House Rotstein with something foolish like a rabbit” Alasdair said making a clear jest at house Greensworth, it seemed even at its creation fools ruled that family.

Surprised Claus accepted the scroll and was now grinning.
-”HA! I always thought ‘lord Rotstein’ had a nice ring to it!” Claus was actually genuinely happy and surprised and his thoughts began to race on what symbolism he wanted his charge to have. He had little clue on heraldry but knew it had a bunch of rules. He realised he’d have to speak with a herald about it. But set that aside since there was probably one in the keep somewhere.
-”Don’t you agree? So, what now boss?”

“Right now I’m going to need your advise more than ever”. Alasdair’s face turned grim “With this move the Blackwells have made their intention clear. I imagine we will soon be at war again. However I dare not invade until my brother has been informed of this attack and the circle be brought into the empire. Until then we must prepare. Vivian has already told us what she knows, it seems she has no loyalty to her own family and even offered to side with us ‘for the right price’. I agreed of course and listened to everything she had to say about her family, before having her thrown back into her cell and ordering her fingernails removed” Alasdair replied with a sadistic smile, even if he could trust her he would never work with the woman who hurt his family.

-”That’s… nice. Well as goes for the Blackwells they are a proper threat. I know their kind and a few of them personally, never underestimate them. And we will suffer more from a war than they would.” Claus happy mood was taken down a notch by Alasdair’s reveal of Vivian’s fate.

“Not just the Blackwells, but the south as well. The moment war breaks about between the empire and the Blackwells the south will no doubt invade as well. This will be the true war to determine Formaroth’s ruler, and this time we can’t rely on the foolhardy nature of our opponents leader” Alasdair had no illusions, while the Mandarass Alliance may have larger fighting force, they were easily outmaneuvered where it mattered. Something that Alasdair knew he couldn’t do with Eli.

-”Yeah, you won’t find that chivalric honour that Andris has. These guys will use every dirty trick in the book. I’ll try to remember as many as i can.” Claus spoke with a genuine respect for Andris Mandarass, but it was obvious he also wanted round two.
-”What happened to Andris?” Claus asked.

Alasdair’s face grew cold as recounted the events that occured in Uzgob. “As i’m sure you know he managed to escape Uzgob after Giles failed to capture him in time. As our own fleet was busy capturing Akki he sailed away with the Neptuna fleet. After that our spies tell us he sailed for Deliverance and captured it from the pirate king Morian. He and his followers have settled there and have named him king of the island nation” Alasdair said grimly “However his forces are still a fraction of what they once were, he poses very little threat to us” Alasdair said, less confident about his last statement. Andris always had a habit of being a thorn in his side.

Looking slightly let down, Claus answered.
-”So he’s gone overseas? Too bad, it’s almost like he knows the history of the fist and ships. I really wanted a round two.” A slight pause.
-”Anything else boss?”

Alasdair gave Claus another exasperated sigh, though at the very least Alasdair could appreciate that he was willing to fight him again should the time arise.

“There is one more matter to attend to” Alasdair replied “Regarding the mace. I questioned the Blacksmith yesterday and while he claimed ownership of the mace itself there was something he stated was not part of the original design”. At this Alasdair pulled something out from his side, a braided leather hoop that had until recently been attached to the handle of the mace. “What do you know of this”? Alasdair said holding the leather hoop in front of him so Claus could see it clearly.

Claus gently turned the hoop while the emperor held it, giving it a good look before giving up and honestly stating.
-”It’s a braided leather band, nice braid, rather advanced. Was it on the mace?” He wasn’t sure what the emperor was getting at.

“Yes” Alasdair said growing somewhat impatient “and considering it was your gift I would assumed you would know who put it there”.

-”Hey, i was busy organizing the fist for going overseas to the east, it was Katrina who did the order.” Claus was shrugging then kept going, now slightly confused and annoyed.
-”If it’s so darn important i’ll go ask her about it. Timtos arse.” The curse uttered barely audible but Alasdair could easily pick it up.

Alasdair frowned “Careful, I am grateful for your service but you will temper your tongue in my presence. If this Katrina was the one who handled the order then I wish to meet her. Bring her to the keep tomorrow” With that Alasdair turned once again to face the flowerbed before adding “That will be all, Lord Rostein”.

Heo Jeong, he would not claim the title of Crown Prince, stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He needed a Kingdom to make Crown Prince mean something; and to call the slip of land he now ruled anything more than a wasteland was a cruel joke. Scrub grassland rolled away in every direction crowned by the small hill he had claimed as his command post. Before him, their ranks decimated by hunger, disease, and desertion, were all that remained of the armies of Okin. Small contingents of allied troops were scattered here and there to strengthen the line, their banners somehow brighter and taller than his own.

A small creek, barely knee deep, ran across the landscape before the front rank and beyond that, drawn up in silent menacing ranks, were the armies of Akaiba in all their blood red glory. By the Gods he hated them.

For his entire life, and that of his father, the Akaiba had savaged the lands of his people. It was a war that his ancestors had once believed they could win but in his fathers time that slim hope had vanished to the wind as the Southern armies swallowed his country whole. Still, he would not go quietly into the night. He had fretted over his decision for the last week as the end drew nearer and decided, at last, to die with his head held high. There was no alternative. The Akaiba would never permit him to live if he surrendered.

"My lord." One of the two staff officers who still lived interrupted his reverie and pointed. A single samurai had ridden forth from the enemy army. He was dressed like all the others in blood red but a black banner on his back told all those watching that he was a man of importance. His halted his mount at the edge of the stream, a bowshot length from the Okin forces, and waited.

"I will meet him. Alone." The last word halted his advisors in their tracks as Jeong snapped his fingers and his horse was brought forward. He swung up into the saddle, settled his longsword, and then rode down the slight slope of the hill.

His army parted in front of him, thousands of desperate eyes in terrified faces; some so young they could not even grow a whisp of hair. Ill fitting armour, weapons to big for their bearers; what a pitiful ragtag army he had managed to scrape from a land already bled dry. Only his Naga allies seemed even remotely prepared but they too watched him with hidden fear. They knew they would die with screaming alongside him when the enemy crossed the stream.

As he passed beyond the front ranks of the army and the crush of stinking armoured bodies lifted he felt the cool wind swirl around him, gently touching his face and making his horses mane dance. As he drew closer to the distant rider he was surprised to see that the man wore no face mask. The Akaiba had always worn masks stylized with snarling faces that served as effective means of terrifying an enemy. To see a high ranking soldier without one was unexpected.

He halted just shy of the water on his own side of a stream, the water so thin that the two men could easily converse without having to yell.

"Crown Prince Heo Jeong." The Akaiba rider bowed his head slightly.

"General Taketora Ogata." Jeong knew the man, having been forced to retreat time and time again by the others ability to turn Jeongs flank. He was an infuriating enemy but one that Jeong had come to respect.

"I am glad you are still alive." Jeong looked for any sort of sarcasm in his enemies tone but there was none; the samurais black eyes regarded him in turn with something bordering on curiosity.

"Not as glad as I am." Jeong offered lamely and, incredibly, the two men shared a weak chuckle. This meeting was fast turning into one of the strangest moments in Jeongs life. He had expected threats, rudeness, a demand for surrender, anything but politeness, especially from an Akaiba. "Have you come to demand my surrender?"

"No." The single word nearly stopped Jeongs heart. Something else was happening here. He glanced to the East and West, half expecting to see dust clouds descending on him from the flank. Nothing but scrub grass and blue sky as far as the eye could see.

"Please forgive me General, but I am at a lose for words then, given out current... Situation..."

The General offered a thin smile and it occurred to Jeong that other man was wrestling with how to proceed. Whatever he had to say was running contrary to everything he had done up to this point. Jeong opted to not push the point and waited quietly. He took the opportunity to study the man who had brought Okin to its knees. Taketora, the eldest of his clan, was a tall and solidly built man who bore a vicious scar across his face that left him with a permanent mocking expression, save for when he smiled.

"The situation, as you put it, has changed. Drastically." Taketora finally made peace with whatever it was he had to say. "I have received word from the Shogun that the Imperium intends to sail for Seikatsu a million strong."

Jeong did not require any further explanation. He felt the pit in his stomach become a yawning black hole as he tried to comprehend the number. A million soldiers. They would swamp the various Kingdoms of Seikatsu, locked as they were in their internal struggles. He wrestled with his emotions. Even if he somehow survived the coming battle with the Akaiba, whatever was left would be destroyed in a matter of months.

"The Shogun," Taketora continued, breaking in on Jeongs thoughts. "Wishes to extend the hand of peace and invite you, and your allies, to join us in preparing to turn back the Imperium."

Whatever Jeong has been expecting in his wildest dreams, an offer of peace was not it. Here he was, ripe for the slaughter, on the edge of oblivion, and he was being offered life. A feeling of elation and a glimmer of hope suddenly kindled deep in his soul and he fought to keep his face from betraying his feelings.

"Peace. On what terms?" He found himself almost whispering the question so that Taketora had to lean forward to hear him.

"The terms are simple. You agree to serve under the command of a general of our choosing. Your force will be kept together, as will those of your allies."

"And should we win, what of Okin?" Jeong knew he could hardly be given his lands back. That would be out of the question.

"Okin is dead, Jeong. There is nothing left now but for you to die. We offer you the chance embrace that death leading your armies against the Elves; to earn undying glory and the gratitude of all those who call Seikatsu home."

"Death behind every door." Jeong muttered ruthfully, though not unhappily. Anything would be better than dying in this barren scrub ridden wasteland, all that remained of his legacy. Death in battle against the Imperium would write such a different legacy, something worthy of the greatest stories and songs, something his son could be proud of.

"Death comes for us all. There is no escaping it. We may not be able to chose when we die, but we may chose how to meet death when it comes." Taketora was watching him intently. The Akaiba considered death a part of life and Jeong had sometimes envied them for that. Now, it seemed, he would understand them at last.

"Who is the General to command us?" Jeong knew he would agree to the Shoguns offer. It was the only choice. But, if he was to go to war in the Shoguns name, he would serve under no inferior.

"Mine." Taketora actually smiled as he said the word, his white teeth brilliant against his red helmet and black silk.

"It would be an honour." Jeong smiled back. They might be enemies but he knew a man of tactical brilliance when he met one. How often had Taketora out fought, out manoeuvred and out marched Jeongs own forces? Often enough to earn him the nickname Destroyer.

"Your highness." The Akaiba General bowed lower this time and Jeong felt his face flush with pleasure. Taketora urged his horse across the small stream and offered a raised hand to the Last Prince of Okin. Jeong took hold of his enemies hand the two clasped forearms. Their eyes met and Jeong felt the strength of the gaze, the Generals next words igniting a fire within him that he had not known existed. It was a battle cry he had heard before, but never, until that moment, had he felt its power.

"Death and Honour!"

Kenji grunted as he heaved himself off the young maid, pausing only to wipe his cock on the edge of her kimono. Two samurai, their faces impassive, watched as they been directed from the nearby doorway. The girl lay completely still as he finished standing, her legs still splayed wide, her private places wet with his exertions.

“You both witnessed it?” Kenji looked at the two samurai who nodded and bowed low. “Good. Get her out of here and if she doesn’t give birth to a child within nine months, kill her.”

The terrified girl was dragged whimpering out of the room, her kimono still open for the world to see her shame. The whimpers turned to quiet sobs as she was dragged down the stairs. Kenji had no doubt that one or more of the men in the barracks would have his way with the girl and she would produce a child. If it was his child she would be rewarded. If not, she and the child would both die.

Another maid flitted into the room and bowed, handing him a clean kimono. He quickly dressed, tying the cord about his waist as a third maid appeared to clear away the still glistening tatami. A fresh one was laid immediately.

He ignored the maids and stepped out of his quarters to pace slowly down the long hallway of black and white chequered paper walls, turning at last into a small room set aside as his personal shrine.

A small satin pillow rested on the bamboo floor in front of the shrine, it bore only a small golden statue of Shakyamuni, the patron God of all those who lived in the Three Sisters. He lit a small stick of incense and bowed his head to the floor, praying that a child would be born with his face.

Even as he did so, he knew, in his heart of hearts, that no child would ever be his. He had tried to impregnate a different maid, or girl, a week for the last five years and none had born him a child. He could feel the tears prick the corner of his eyes as he considered the reality that he would be the last of his line. The succession of his throne was not something to be taken lightly. Without an heir the throne would pass to his oldest living cousin, Sadatake Ayeka, and Kenji was quite certain that this was the same man who had somehow made him sterile. He didn’t know how, but there was no other explanation he could think of.

He was still on his knees praying when the first of the ninja came over the south wall of the castle. They struck first at the Water Tower, a colossal structure that stood watch over the only bridge providing any access to the fortress. Black shapes, protected from sight by a Madoushi spell, swarmed up the walls with the aid of grappling hooks and the samurai guard was swiftly overwhelmed in a hail of shuriken and crossbow bolts.

The alarm was not sounded until a sharp eyed sentry on the upper level of the castle spotted a pair of grappling hooks sail onto the upper battlements of the inner keep. He managed a shout of warning before he was cut down by the attackers.

“NINJA!” The scream went through the fortress like an arrow through a cherry blossom. Samurai leapt from their beds to take up their swords, rushing out into the night to engage the enemy. Many of them had no time to don their armour and they would pay with their lives.

“Kenji-sama!” A frantic looking samurai has burst into the Shoguns quarters. “Ninja!”

Kenji didn’t hesitate as he ripped his killing sword from its sheath and hurried to join his men. A sick feeling filled his stomach as he did so. Ninja were famously expensive and someone would have had to pay a fortune to hire them for such an attack.

The night was alive with shouts, screams, and the clash of steel. A quick glance down at the walls from his upper chamber showed his disorganized and sleepy samurai being driven quickly down the length of the wall by a well prepared and merciless adversary.

A rush of samurai from a side passage momentarily stalled the ninja attack and furious hand to hand fighting engulfed the lower level of the keep. Samurai hurled themselves at their attackers regardless of their own life and limb and were cut down in droves.

Kenji hefted his own blade and waved a number of newly arrived samurai over to join him. He felt his lips peel back from his teeth in a feral snarl. If this was how his cousin wanted to conduct the affairs of state, he would rip his heart out with his own bare hands.

“Nagai!” He snarled his ancestral battle cry and the samurai around him took up the call. Their voices melded together in a ferocious roar as they charged the oncoming ninja.

Kenji began to chant as he went, the runes on his arms bursting instantly into a dull blue glow. His feet felt lighter and it seemed as though everyone around him slowed slightly. He easily blocked the lunge of a ninja, turning his own blade over top of the others to drive the wicked point into the mans eyes.

The ninja went down without a sound as Kenji moved on, stepping low beneath another attack, driving his own blade upwards so that it split the ninja from groin to shoulder. In an instant the pressure on his forces weakened and then broke altogether as the ninja suddenly retreated the way they had come. Kenji gave a yell of victory and, with his samurai in pursuit, rushed after them, bloodied sword aloft.

He never saw the paint blackened caltrops in the darkness as he charged out onto the open battlements, still blinded by the torchlight from the passageway. The first spike pierced the bottom of his foot and he dropped with a scream of pain, a second driving through his thigh, a third into his stomach. The samurai behind him were unable to stop and several others were felled by the wicked objects.

A flicker in the darkness and more samurai were down as crossbow bolts harvested more lives on the battlements. Kenji tried to shout but a falling samurai forced his face down onto a caltrop, a spike stabbing into his jaw.

The samurai retreated in confusion, driven back through the doorway by more crossbow bolts. Kenji tried to climb to his feet as the ninja moved swiftly back down the battlements toward him. Their leader, a stocky man with a red dot on the forehead of his mask, made eye contact with Kenji and recognition flashed in the dark eyes.

Kenji had no time to speak as the ninja stooped and hacked off his head, quickly shoving it into a bag at his waist before giving a sharp whistle. In an instant the ninja melted into the dark and the bloodied battlements were left to the samurai.

“Well shit” William mumbled to himself as he walked around the now empty and half destroyed warehouse, looking through what little of his stocks now remained. After finally making his way back to Nyhem he had hoped that he could enjoy some respite from his ordeal. However it seemed that under Jain’s leadership his merchant guild had disbanded. From asking the nearby merchants he had gathered that Jain had been harassing someone on the emperors payroll and chased down by the imperial guard themselves. While Jain had escaped William’s workers and been captured and his goods forfeited. William knew one thing for sure; if he ever saw Jain again he would kill him on sight. He had cost him an opportunity of a lifetime and left him for dead in Legon. Though partly he only had himself to blame, William had been far too trusting with Jain hoping that his blood grass addiction would be enough to control him. William’s rummaging was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind him.

“I thought I told you to remain on the ship” William said as he turned around expecting to see Amaranthis. Instead he was greeted by four armed guards. William cursed internally as he realized that one of the merchants he talked to must have tipped him off. “Right, look I can explain…” William started before being whacked around the side of the head with a wooden truncheon.

***

William awoke to find himself in the dungeons of Nyhem. He had been dragged to the prison’s first level and at least had light and a cell to himself. The fact that he hadn’t been taken to one of the lower levels meant that he would have a trial to defend himself. As far as he was aware there was nothing to link him to whatever crimes Jain had committed but right now that wasn’t what he was concerned about. He was more worried about Amaranthis and what she might do now that William wasn’t keeping an eye on her. If she did something while he was locked up here then William’s reputation would suffer, being known as a man who was unable to keep his subordinates under control. Worst still it may hurt his chances in his upcoming trial.

A couple of days passed before the guards finally took William out of his cell to his trial. The walk through the keep’s lower levels was rather dull, for a place that housed royalty there was very little decoration, with many of the stone passageways being completely barren. Perhaps more ornaments and furniture existed on the higher levels, afterall they wouldn’t waste valuable items on the floors used mostly by servants and guards. To make matters worse the guards who were escorted William had little patience and any joke that he made to lighten the mood resulted in swift punch to the stomach. They finally arrived in a small room with a splintered podium in front of William and a raised chair located on the other side of the room. It appeared this was the room used to conduct trials for smaller affairs. There were only a handful of people in the room, a scribe, a couple more guards and a man sitting upon the chair. From what William could remember of the celebration party, he was a member of the high council, the advisor of law. He looked tired and it seemed William was not the first trial he had proceeded over today. William made his way over the the podium before the guards forced him towards it. The two guards who brought him here lazily stood to either side of the podium and judging from their deamour it was clear William wasn’t considered any sort of threat. This was a good sign, the chances were this trial was nothing more than a formality with everyone in this room just wanting to get it over with. The man, who William believed to be called Alex, arose from his seat.

“William Flin, you have been brought here to answer for the crimes of your subordinate Jain Surya and the actions he took against a esteemed guest of the emperor himself. How do you answer to this”. William was glad he finally had a chance to speak.

“My lord” William replied as he stood upright, his voice filled with confidence, even if he wasn’t “I can assure you I was very surprised to return to my warehouse and find both my merchandise and workers missing, along with my warehouse destroyed. I promise that Jain Surya acted on his own initiative with no input on my behalf”. William continued now talking to the room rather than just Alex “I haven't even been in Nyhem for near two months now and didn’t even know of Jain’s activities until I arrived back”.

“Your workers said as much, however I must ask you why you elected this man to be your second in command if his loyalties were so dubious” Alex questioned “Had this been a mere worker of yours then this trial would be unnecessary, but he was chosen personally by you to run your guild in your absence”. The confident look on William’s face dropped and his shoulders fell.

“I never thought I would have to question his loyalties. I had met him a few years ago in Seikatsu and since then he has been like a brother to me, this betrayal has cut me deep” William said his voice sinking as he spoke. This was all of course a lie, but he couldn’t let people know that he had allowed a stranger to run his warehouse and blackmailed him with blood grass. They would think him a fool, which right now is exactly how he now felt. There was no way that Alex could know he was lying, the workers who were questioned only met Jain when he arrived in Nyhem and the rest of his crew were now lying in pieces somewhere in Legon. Alex looked at William with pity, something that made William smile internally. It seemed he was a man who was easily swayed by his emotions, a poor trait for a judge but a good thing for William.

“I’m am sorry for the betrayal you have been dealt sir, but I must ask you, do you know where he might be” Alex questioned his tone softer than before. William pretended to think hard before replying

“I am sorry but I cannot think of anywhere in particular, we always travelled together you see. If he is in trouble with the law he may have left the city for Vine, he always talked about wanting to go there” William replied. In truth he had no idea whether Jain even knew where Vine was, but if he gave Alex a half baked answer it would seem less as if he wasn’t trying to protect his former associate.

“I see, in which case sir I believe we have heard enough. We have no evidence that leads us to believe you were involved with the actions of Jain Surya and from what I have heard we have no reason to keep you here longer than needed. I find you not guilty”. Just as William thought, this trial was nothing more than a dressed up questioning, even so he breathed a sigh of relief partly for show and partly real.
“I thank you my lord” William said with a bow “However there is a matter of which I must ask. My goods seem to be missing from my warehouse, no doubt rightly seized by his Grace’s soldiers during Jain’s investigation. I ask that they please be returned to my warehouse”. At this Alex turned his eyes away from William.

“I am sorry to inform, but your supplies have been added to the crowns stockpile and getting them back now would be near impossible. Please understand you had been gone for over a month since the incident with Jain and we thought, what with your sudden disappearance and his rise through the ranks, that he had killed you”. That was not what William wanted to hear and he didn’t hide it. Seeing the cold sour looking upon William’s face Alex quickly added “But you will be fairly compensated for the loss of your goods and will leave here with a sum of gold equivalent to what your goods were worth. Furthermore the ownership of the warehouse will be returned to you. We will also have your workers informed that you have returned to the city, we can only hope they haven’t already found new work in the time since your arrest”.

“I thank you for that my lord” William said once more with a bow. In truth however he was disappointed, many of the items he had acquired were extremely rare and he doubted that the royal accountants would believe him on their actual worth. At the very least his guild was still alive, even if he had been set aback”.

“These men will guide you to the treasury” Alex said gesturing to the guards that had brought him here “There someone will see you compensated. I wish you good fortune” With that William gave one more bow before leaving with the guards through the same door they came through.

***

William had just left the keep with a chest full of gold in his hand. Unfortunately for him he pissed off the guards so much they refused to escort him to the warehouse like they were supposed to. Now he had to carry this chest through the streets of Nyhem and pray to the gods he didn’t get mugged on the way. He was about to start walking when a voice came from the side of him.

“The jester left me on the wooden fish longer than he said he would” William turned to see Amaranthis standing there. She was wearing a simple woolen grey dress and shoes that did not match.

“Where did you get those” William said pointing at the clothes she was wearing, she definitely didn’t get them off the ship.

“Found them” She replied. William doubted that very much, still he was glad she was here, he now had someone to deal with any pickpockets that might dare to steal the chest.

“In any case come with me we have a lot of work to do”.

Kanna stood absolutely still, her dark brown eyes focused on the opponent in front of her. It was a relatively young man, about the same age as her, holding a bokken at waist level and wearing a practice hakama that matched her own. The kimono was white and tucked into black trousers. White tabi covered their feet. Kanna's own wooden practice sword was also held at her waist, her feet slightly staggered and shoulder width apart on the dark stained wooden floors. The shogun's daughter was patiently waiting for her sparing opponent to strike first.

"Remember Touma, if she lands a strike on you, you're dead." a deep male voice instructed. It came from a tall man, seemingly in his mid thirties with black hair as long as Kanna's, pulled back in a loose ponytail. His name was Toshizo Hijikata and he was the man who lead the Okuri-Okami, an elite samurai unit. He stood on the platform watching their sparring match with experienced eyes. The rest of the Okuri were sitting quietly behind him watching the match. It was their regular mandatory morning practice. The dojo they were occupying was of typical design: white paper walls, double sliding doors that connected the hallway to the room itself, and the practice floors were a step below the staging platform where the group was sitting.

"Begin."

There were a few long moments before Touma finally surged forward, raising his sword above his head to strike her. Kanna did not move until the moment she saw his elbow from the dominant arm indicate the style of attack, his intention to strike the center of her head. It was a basic move and easy to read. Kanna shifted her feet to propel herself forward, her own sword serving as a surface for his to slide against, the end of the handle of her bokken pointed to the ceiling. She then pivoted to her left to swiftly land a tap across his neck.

"Dead."

She stepped back at their instructor's conclusion of the match, giving Touma space and lowering her bokken. He was a new addition to the squad, by recommendation from another unit, and this was his first day of practice. To start with such an introductory sword swing meant he must have been toying with her, assuming she was a weaker opponent with little experience.

"Again and this time Touma, take her seriously."

Both swordsmen resumed their fighting stances and waited for the queue to begin.

"Begin."

This time the young man charged at her with vigor. His swings were moderately heavy handed, but controlled. Even though Kanna was able to deflect his strikes, he gave her no opportunity to return an attack. They both knew that her arms would tired before his, so Kanna had two choices, either to bait out an opening or go on the offensive. She chose to test the first option, feigning fatigue against his blows assuming he still thought her as a lesser fighter. A smirk spread across his face and he moved to knock her sword away, thinking she wouldn't have the strength to recover, maybe even in the hopes that the bokken would fly from her hands and raised his arms once more for an overhead strike. Seizing her chance, she surged forward once more into his space, thrusting the tip of her wooden sword into the hollow of his jaw, stopping him now for a second time.

This time, the word came from her own lips, "Dead." They both stood in silence for a few moments before Touma finally took in a deep breath and stepped back, lowering his bokken. He bowed to her before he spoke. "Thank you for sparring with me and teaching me an important lesson not to underestimate my opponent, Sadatake-sama. I hope that one day you would allow me to face you again."

"Of course Inoue-san. It would be my pleasure to face you again." She returned his gesture and bowed.

Before their instructor could get a word in, the white paper doors of the dojo slid open, revealing her father's messenger. He was shorter than most men, but built for running long distances at a moderate pace making him an ideal messenger. Hijikata met him at the thresh-hold and the two men exchanged whispers before the smaller man departed, his job completed.

"Sadatake, your father wishes for you to travel to the palace. Everyone else, we're running drills!"

They were about a two days ride from her father's estate, as they were currently residing at the castle lead by Takeda Eikichi, the shugo of the Kai province, so Kanna moved quickly to pack her travel bag and saddle her horse. With her belongings in tow, Kanna walked briskly to the stables. She had changed out of her practice hakama, into ones that were for more public settings and designed for women. The kimono itself was a deep red color, with pink sakura blossoms scattered about it's long sleeves. The pants were a silky black with a matching line of cherry blossoms on the hem, placed as if they were being blown by the wind. Her katana and wakizashi were strapped to her left side.

A stable hand helped to saddle her horse, a beautiful young mare with a palomino coat color. A white diamond rested between the mounts eyes, which earned her the name Hoshi, meaning "star". Placing her left foot in the stirrup, she hoisted herself into the plain leather saddle and directed herself south to her father's estate.

---

The journey was easy going from the northern road, as it was regularly patrolled and local farmers kept the peace. She arrived around noon at the North Gate and was greeted by her handmaiden, Hitomi. She was an older woman, having served Kanna since childhood, with greying hair and aging skin. Her once proud frame is shorter than it was. Hitomi greeted her warmly as if she were her own daughter, gathering Hoshi's reigns in her weathered hands.

"Welcome home Kanna-chan!"

"Now Hitomi-san," the young noblewoman started, feigning disappointment, "I am beyond the age for you to be calling me 'Kanna-chan' ".

"Indeed you are and while you have grown into such a beautiful young woman, I still can't help that these old eyes still see the little girl who would cry in frustration when she couldn't tie her own obi!"

A small smile spread across Kanna's face as she bowed to the other woman before dismounting her horse. A stable boy had come during their exchange to retrieve Hoshi, his small hands taking the reins gently from the older woman's. "Take good care of her" she told the boy, before turning back to Hitomi as Hoshi followed the boy obediently. He would make sure her belongings would be sent to her rooms once they removed the tack from Hoshi.

"I have prepared a bath for you and when you are finished I will send word to Daichi-san that you wish to see him."

"How has he been since I've been gone?" she asked. She thought of her twin daily with the foolish hope that maybe his aches would be less, but she knew better. She was there when he was brought back home and had evaluated his body herself. She knew the extent of the damage done to him. A flare of rage ignited in her at the thought of it all, how she wanted nothing more than to inflict the same pain on the people who did it and would slaughter every man, woman, and child of the Imperium if it meant her brother would become whole again.

"He is the same as he was before you left." replied Hitomi, her face neutral. "Come, lets get you cleaned up and into a kimono so you can be fit to see your brother and later, your father."

---

Daichi was seated in the Garden of the Sleeping Stone. It was so named for the pure white stone that sat alone in the middle of a neatly groomed patch of gravel as white as the stone itself. Around the edges, neatly formed and perfectly placed, was a series of little neatly edged gardens filled with small ferns and white flowers. The only mark upon the perfection of the place was the drag mark left by his club foot. How fitting.

He was seated on a bench of white wood that was warm to the touch but, like everything else, it made his hip hurt. He gritted his teeth as he stretched out a leg until it clicked and he gave a small moan of pleasure as he sank back onto the bench. His tongue played along the broken stubs of his teeth as he stared at the stone. He often came here to think and no one bothered him when he did. Meditation was important to him, it allowed him to manage some of his pain, while a hot bath and a massage did much to lessen the remainder of his aliments.

Behind him the white walls of Sadatake Castle towered toward the sky, the tip of a black tiled roof peaking out. In front of him, beyond the stone, stretched the never ending beauty of Akaiba. Green rice patties, thick forests, and bursts of colour where cherry trees blossomed, all of it a stunning tapestry that someone, not him of course, should capture with a brush. The wind that blew today brought with it the smell of the distant snow capped peaks and the fragrant forests that carpeted the lower slopes. The sound of water trickling through a water clock came from somewhere nearby and he closed his eyes, allowing the sound to flow through him.

For a long moment he felt no pain at all. It was as if he had left his own body behind and was now floating weightless above the Sleeping Stone. He could feel no ache, no searing pain, no disgust at his own disfigurement. He was whole once again. Secretly he hoped that one day he might be able to leave his body behind forever as he did now. But not yet. He had revenge to met out first.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The pain and discomfort rushed back immediately and he gave a heavy sigh. He gripped the head of a black ashwood stave that served as his cane and struggled painfully to his feet. He wore a robe of such deep red that appeared almost black that was cute perfectly to hide his feet while not drag along the ground.

"Daichi-sama?" The quiet voice came from a woman clad in a kimono of the same colour. She wore a black mask around the lower half of her face, a pair of swords was thrust into her belt. Only the small red embroidered cherry blossom on her left chest marked her out as one of the Kempeitai.

"Yes, Mamiko-san?"

"Kanna-sama has arrived and is asking for you." The Samurai bowed low as Daichi walked toward her, leaning heavily on his staff. A new drag mark followed behind him; to be erased the moment he left by an attentive servant.

"Is she now!" Daichi brightened up at once before halting abruptly. He hated stairs more than anything else. They had clearly been designed by a sadist who knew that a club footed cripple would one day need to traverse them. At least here, in the Kempeitai wing of the fortress, his father had put in as many ramps or lifts as possible to make Daichi's life somewhat less miserable. "Send her word that I will be in the Tea Room."

Mamiko bowed again and then snapped her fingers. A servant appeared at once, received her orders, and then vanished into the main keep. Daichi began to make his way toward the tea room. It was one of the few rooms in the castle that had small cushioned benches were he could sit with relative ease. He could feel Mamiko at his back but she never once offered to assist him and he felt no pity from her. That was good. He despised those who pitied him.

By the time he reached the tea room a small table was already set with a pot of steaming tea and a kneeling maid. A low bench with its blessed cushion sat on one side, a red pillow fringed with gold sat upon the other. The room itself was simple enough, white paper walls, black wooden frame, and a deep red tatami beneath the pillows and table. A single floor to ceiling window, only possible because of the rooms location above a cliff, looked out over the glittering ocean.

The maid did not look up as he shuffled in, nor did she even twitch as he grunted, lowering himself onto the bench. He stretched out his legs with a groan of pleasure just as the sound of his sisters footsteps sounded on the neatly polished teak floorboards. Mamiko, stationed just outside the door, flashed a hand to her sword but then smiled at someone Daichi could not see. The Samurai bowed and then Kanna stood in the doorway. She wore a traditional black kimono, covered with white cranes and sleeves that fell just short of her knees. The obi was a deep red with golden colored wave patterns and lotus flowers. It was tied in a neat taiko knot at her back. The hiyoku that peaked under the black kimono was a golden color with a white floral pattern and the nagajuban collar that showed underneath the hiyoku robe was a matching deep red to the obi.

Daichi flashed her a toothy smile of jagged teeth and gestured to the cushion across from him. The maid was already pouring the tea. "Welcome sister, please sit. Forgive me for not getting up."

Kanna rushed over to the unoccupied and took a seat, carefully folding the kimono under her knees so it wouldn't wrinkle. "Please, it is not an issue Daichi. You do not have to apologize to me." She reached her slender hands across the table for him to take in his own. "Tell me dear brother, how have you been?"

"As well as can be expected." Daichi replied, reaching out a clawed hand to squeeze her perfect fingers. The swordsman callouses on her palm were rough against the soft skin of his own hand. Even now he was reminded of what he had lost. "How goes the campaign? I know Taketora is returning with the Army, and our new Okin allies in tow."

She ran her thumbs over the back of his hand, feeling the wrongness of his bones. Kanna remembered how strong and capable they used to be. How skilled they once were holding his katana. "It goes well. Under our father's direction, as well as the generals on the field, our enemies were folding easily. Though now that we are at a standstill, it feels... unfinished? We went to war for father to unite all under his banner. What has changed?"
Leaning forward caused his lower back to ache but the touch of another human was so foreign that he remained where he was. As she sipped her tea, and he waited for his to cool enough that it did not hurt his broken teeth, he told her of the news that the Imperium was planning to sail against Seikatsu. Anger filled his voice as he spoke and he at last sat upright, unable to sustain the pain any longer. He had no true news, only the existing whispers and rumours but it was impossible for the Elves to hide preparations of such magnitude. Then he told her of the Ninja attack on Nagai Kenji and the Shoguns subsequent death. Daichi did not directly state that he had orchestrated the attack, but Kanna was clever enough to understand what he had done and what it meant for their family.

"Father leaves tomorrow for Koiba where he intends to press his claim for the throne. I believe he wishes you to go with him." Daichi finished at last. He wanted to go but the travel by horse would to hard on him and so he would remain behind as regent until his fathers return.

Her eyes widened when she realized her selfishness and she quickly pulled back her hands to fold them neatly on her lap, allowing her brother to sit more comfortably. His report left her with mixed feelings of anger towards the impending invasion and excitement towards the goal they have all worked for. Daichi had taken on a different role for their family and she wondered if he enjoyed it. Not because she thought anything bad of it, but because it gave him purpose. "Well, we'll only know of our father's plans once we meet with him, or if anything, Ill give you all the details." She took another sip of her tea, savoring its flavors.

"I would appreciate that." He drained his own cold tea cup and it was instantly refilled by the maid who had cleverly had a second cold pot brought so that he need not wait to drink again. "I have much work to be done in Noiba at this time. There is also the business of ensuring we have agents among our new allies of connivance."
That could not be overstated. The Okin and Naga forces who now marched with the Army of the North were only there because the choice was death for everyone. The Okinese had ceased to exist in all but name, the quality of the forces they could lend to the fight were slightly more than boys with swords, but they would do to soak up arrows.

"Well, in that regard, let me know if I can be of any assistance to you." Kanna expressed as she finished the contents of her cup and stared at the remaining tea leaves. There were fortune tellers who would read the patterns left behind to read someone's future or their destiny. She wondered what it would say about her future and the future of her country, but that thought left her mind as she gently placed the cup down for the maid to refill. She was carving her own destiny, she didn't need leaves to tell her anything otherwise.

Lycaon was outside of his family castle, walking among his men. They were separate from Rendon’s soldiers, and Lycaon himself was separate from Rendon for the moment. As he was inspecting the condition of his men alongside his cousin, a haggard-looking messenger wearing the crest of the Holy Order of Saint Elenor upon his tunic. He ran towards Lycaon with great speed, such that Lycaon could not help but turn to him, though his serene smile never faded.

“My Grand Master,” the messenger said. “Ser Sayer has fallen, routed by the forces of the Grim Company, who now fight for Fenick.”
“Sayer?” Lycaon said, his plastic smile completely gone, having turned into a venomous scowl. “It cannot be. I loved him as a brother – no, I loved him far more than any brother of mine. This will not go unavenged. Tell me the rest, messenger, quickly.”

“The Grim Company came upon his forces unexpectedly,” the messenger said. “The battle was hard-fought. Ser Sayer, the honorable Ser Gwladis, Captain Keithan, and Captain Brandon were slain. Ser Simone-Simon now holds command. Yet it was Lieutenant Raymond who rallied the men to gather in an orderly retreat, and it was the young soldier Herona who held the mountain pass single-handedly against the Grim Company.”

“I shall give both Raymond and Herona their honors in due time,” Lycaon said. “But first comes vengeance for my friends. We shall waste no time. Meet me at the gates. I suppose this will show us if Rendon and his men are of any worth.”


The journey through Uzgob had been far more perilous than Lycaon had been hoping. He had miscalculated. During the day the only enemy was the heat, but when night came it was a different story. The first incident came when a wave of flaming arrows came that set the encampment ablaze. More than a few burnt to death, and chaos was thrown into the camps. The perpetrators were nowhere to be found. Scouts had deduced that it was probably the Grim Company. Lycaon did not need his scouts for him to have realized that, however. Perhaps they were still licking their wounds, or perhaps their numbers were not great enough to fight them straight on. Whatever the case, these were not the last attacks. Stone spears and arrows in dead of the night came. When the raids came, Lycaon did not have the men and resources to search for every tribesman and mercenary who happened to follow them in the dead of night, so the raids kept coming. It was not enough to decimate Lycaon forces, but it exhausted everyone. When the gates of Andromeda finally appeared it was such a welcome sight that the men cheered openly.

While his men set up camp, Lycaon himself arrived into the city. There were those who had come to gawk when they arrived, but there were few cheers. Lycaon was a foreigner here, and he could not have come at a worse time. Yet today his purpose was not to win the people of Andromeda to his side. His messengers came with him, as he approached the palace in Andromeda. Once his messengers informed him that he had received an audience with Patrick, then Lycaon entered. As he entered before Patrick, Lycaon gave a bow.

“Your Grace, it is honor to meet you,” Lycaon said. “Though it is a shame that it is under such bad fortunes. I am here to ensure that this heretic uprising is quelled thoroughly, and that its vile creed is never again uttered upon this land.”
Patrick immediately turned around and walked back towards the way he had come in expecting Lycaon to follow

“How many men did you lose journeying through Uzgob” Patrick asked bluntly, still looking ahead as he spoke.

“The losses were minimal. No more than thirty,” Lycaon said. “The true problem was the fact that the attacks kept coming, and barring a costly scouring of the desert there is no simple way to prevent raids at night.”

“From now on set up camp in the local villages and towns, that way if Fenick wants to harass our forces he’ll do it at the expense of his own people, turning them against him”. Patrick said as he opened a door leading into the palaces war room. The room had remained largely unchanged from Andris’s rule. However, the banners of house Mandarass had been removed and replaced with that of the De Reimer’s. Two Hookah’s stood next to the table, one of which was currently being used by Lord Crawford while he gazed at the maps in front of him. Lord Gisborn was also there looking at a scroll. “Tell me, how many men have you brought with you? I understand you took significant casualties at the hands of grim company”.

“Altogether, the forces of myself and my friend Lord Rendon du Paraquette come to six thousand,” Lycaon said.

“Impressive” he said as he looked at Lycaon “I am surprised you have been able to muster a such a sizeable force” Patrick said with a tone of respect in his voice. Even he wasn’t above giving praise where he deemed it necessary “I have, requested, that my brother demand house Wulfrick send reinforcements and assist us against these rebels. Their soldiers will be far better suited to the climate than ours ever will and won’t suffer in a drawn out battle”. Patrick walked over to the war table. “I have also made a request that the newly appointed Lord Rotsein be sent here to command the imperial armies” Patrick paused for a moment before continuing “In my absence”.

“Then you shall be departing soon, your grace?” Lycaon said.

“So it would seem and it couldn’t of happened at a worse time” Patrick replied clearly annoyed with the current turn of events “It seems I am unable to postpone my wedding to Naomi Blackwell and will be heading straight for Alenius. Furthermore certain incidents in the capital require my immediate attention” Patrick said solemnly “I am leaving the cawanorian host in lord Rendon’s hands until Lord Claus arrives”. In truth Patrick knew that Lycaon would be the one commanding the armies instead of Rendon, but he couldn’t officially be seen giving Lycaon more power than he already had. Particularly not over his own forces “Remember the Cawanorian soldiers are some of the finest fighters you will ever see and will hold the line against anything. However they are southerners and we from the south don’t fare well under such conditions, if you use them ensure they are not used to fight a battle of attrition”.

“I shall keep that in mind,” Lycaon said. “It is a shame that you have to leave so quickly. All know that Patrick de Reimer is worth more than any general. But I offer my congratulations for your marriage, and I can assure you that we shall take care of things here, as long as the Empire continues its support.”

“If you prove effective in handling these rebels then you will receive all the support you require. The empire cannot last if it’s people are allowed to openly rebel against the crown, we must end this insurgency as soon as possible” Patrick replied “I leave tomorrow morn, so if you wish to speak with me do it before then”.

“Should it become necessary, I shall,” Lycaon said. “I aim to strike at the rebels as soon as possible. I mean to ensure that Medea is liberated as soon as possible.”

“See to it that you do. I wish you all good fortune, I hope that our next meeting will be after Fenick’s head decorates the ramparts of Miserth Keep” As Patrick made his way towards the exit he pointed towards one of the servants “See too it that my hookah is delivered to Iredale” he said before turning to Lycaon “I suppose there was one good thing I was able to find in this forsaken land” He continued as he turned back around and walked out of the council room.

Alasdair was seated in the council chambers as he waited for Katrina to arrive. In front of him sat the coronation mace atop the table. It was currently midday and Alasdair had spent the morning in his sister’s chamber, listening to her weak breathing as she lay unresponsive in her bed. The healers assured him that she was getting better, but Alasdair had his doubts. If his sister’s condition was getting worse, it would be unlikely that they would tell him about it out of fear of being replaced or punished. There had been many instances in the past of grief-stricken royals executing healers for failing to save their loved ones. While Alasdair had no intention of punishing them for a situation that was out of their hands, he certainly wasn’t going to let them know. It was better if they thought their life was on the line to ensure they didn’t neglect their care of his sister. A knock on the chamber’s door distracted Alasdair from his thoughts. It was shortly followed by Alenius’s voice.

“Katrina Nikos of the steel company has arrived for you, your grace”

“Send her in” Alasdair replied. The door slowly opened, and Katrina walked sheepishly inside, eyeing both the emperor and the mace as she entered. This was her first time speaking directly to nobility, let along royalty. When she asked Claus how she should deal with the emperor or any other nobles she might run into, he simply laughed and said, “I just act like a do normally, it seems to throw them off balance a bit”. Katrina had no doubt about that, but she also doubted she would be able to get away with it. She could hardly believe that Claus was able to. She walked over to the far end of the table, opposite to where Alasdair was sitting before giving a low bow.

“Your grace” She said nervously, she was still in the dark about why the emperor had asked for her personally. When she asked Claus, he told her it was something about the coronation gift the steel fist had given him though he was also somewhat perplexed as it why the emperor cared so much about it. Alasdair gestured his hand slightly giving her permission to straighten her back and face him directly. Though she was careful not to make eye contact. Alasdair simply stared at her for a moment, she was younger than he thought she’d be though taller than most girls her age, with short copper red hair and piercing green eyes. She somehow seemed familiar, despite never seeing her before.

“So, your Claus’s logistician, your surprisingly young for such an important position” Alasdair said. Normally Katrina would have responded with one of her typically headstrong and wilful answers. However, she knew better than to speak out of line with an emperor.

“Yes, your grace, Lord Rostein appointed me the position shortly after recruiting me here in Nyhem. He said I had a talent for it” She said trying to supress a small smile, it always filled her with pride whenever she talked about her integral role within the steel fist. Interestingly the emperor wasn’t what she had been expecting. Everyone always made a big fuss over the royalty, everyone lived in their shadow and whenever something big happened in Formaroth it was inevitably somehow linked to them. She always knew that the emperor wasn’t the demi god everyone built him up to be, but this man looked so normal, even boring. He wasn’t ugly, but neither was he particularly attractive. He seemed usually thin for a nobleman, even to the point of looking frail. Even his clothes seemed somewhat basic for the man who ruled all of Formaroth. She couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed, something she didn’t expect when she heard she’s be meeting the emperor himself.

“I see” Alasdair replied, “and what do you think of Lord Rostein himself” Alasdair was curious as to how Claus’s own men felt about their commanding officer. Katrina looked straight at Alasdair with a confidence that replaced her previous nervousness

“I owe him everything your grace. He turned me into the woman I am now and without him I would still be a mere blacksmith apprentice. As a commander and a warrior, he has no equal” Katrina said with a big smile before quickly adding “your grace”. With this Alasdair stood up from his chair, which in response Katrina straighten up.

“He clearly has a way of inspiring his troops that’s a certainty” Alasdair mumbled, reaching out and placing his hand atop the mace “I was told by Lord Rostein that you placed the order for this mace” At this Alasdair detached the leather braided hoop from the mace’s handle and slowly made his way towards Katrina “I already spoke to the smith who you commissioned to make the weapon. However, he informed me that this” Alasdair said as he put the braid on the table in front of Katrina “was not part of the original design, I’m trusting you may know of its origins”. Now that he was closer Katrina noticed the dark purple rings under Alasdair’s eyes and it was clear he was incredibly stressed. Though she wasn’t surprised; the pressure of ruling Formaroth would put great strain on anyone, she did not envy his role. It only took her a glace to identify her leather braid though she had no idea why the emperor of Formaroth would be so concerned over such a thing.

“I made the braid your grace” Katrina stammered, uncertain what confessing to her braid meant “I added it to the mace after Watt Smith finished it”. She wanted to ask why he wanted to know, but she knew better than to question royalty.

“Your braid?” Alasdair questioned, looking directly at Katrina as he spoke “Where did you learn of this design” Alasdair said quietly. Katrina was becoming increasingly nervous, but she looked straight ahead, knowing that someone of her status should never make direct eye contact with royalty.

“It was my mother’s” Katrina replied trying to keep her voice steady “my uncle kept the braids she made when she was still alive. The one I used on the mace was my favourite” Katrina continued, her voice growing quieter as she spoke of the mother she never knew.

“Your mother who was she” Alasdair continued to speak quietly but this time there was a sense of urgency in his voice.

“I apologise your grace, but I don’t know, she died shortly after I was born. All I know was that she worked here in this castle as a servant. It’s strange to think that today I walked down the same halls she probably used to clean” She said with a sad smile. Alasdair’s face slowly changed to a look of sudden realization.

“Look at me” Alasdair whispered. Katrina hesitated for a moment. On one hand she was told to never look her emperor directly in the eye, but she was also told to do what he said without question. “Look at me” Alasdair said firmly. Katrina obeyed. His face was an array of different emotions; shock, confusion, stunned, uncertainty. He had come to the realization of something and Katrina knew it involved her mother. Without warning Alasdair turned away and walked towards to the door.

“That is all, you may leave” He said bluntly as he opened the door

“Did you know my mother” Katrina shouted at him before he left. She knew she was speaking out of term, breaking ever rule she had been told before coming here, even going as far as raising her voice to the reigning monarch of Formaroth. But right now, she couldn’t give a damn.

“That is all” Alasdair shouted back before gesturing to a confused Alenius to remove Katrina from the keep. Katrina considered chasing after him but knew if she did she may very well end up in the Nyhem dungeons. After shouting at Alasdair like that, she knew she was lucky he hadn’t ordered her be taken there already. Instead she chose to comply with Alenius as she escorted her back through the keep. One thing was clear however, the emperor knew her mother and from how he reacted, knew her well. She no longer cared that he was emperor, he knew answers to the questions she had had since as far as she could remember, and she would not relent until he told her them.

A magical meeting.
It was raining a bit in the slums of Nyhem, Balthar Uneiuss Imazz, Orvel Forrin and twentythree other mages were making their way through the wet streets now reeking of soil and filth.
Following them was a ox-drawn covered wagon.
Uneiuss who was leading the rag tag group of mages wondered if they had indeed gotten the correct address as they looked into the slums, very few apart from themselves were out and their dark woolen cloaks were heavy and moist from the rain.

He once more wondered why he was leading the group, he knew at least two of the others were vastly superior destruction mages, and several more had served in militaries before. But the others were adamant that he should lead them. He himself felt like a silly buffoon faking his position when he lead them along the streets following the little brat he'd paid to show them the way.
He had demanded the exorbitant price of a silver coin, but Uneiuss didn't feel like bartering. If it was one thing this new job had promised was good pay and his family was also of some renown and wealth.

As they turned a corner they saw a newly built stone wall with a metal fence on top, the speartips looking menacing in the grey lighting and in their wet state.
There was two steel fist corpsmen guarding the fence gate, they looked relatably miserable in the rain and Uneiuss walked up to them in the most imposing way he could muster.
-"Is the the barracks of the Steel Fist?" He even straightened his posture, the response of the corpsman was completely dull and sort of unexpected.
-"Yup, you the new mage fellas?" Uneiuss had expected more spite or fear, perhaps they were trying to keep up appearances. He spoke again.
-"Yes, we've been assigned to show up here." Uneiuss felt he had put in a perfectly imposing answer. The corpsman nodded, sniveled and opened the gate for them.
-"Take the cart to the right, steelhead will meet you inside, the kids will show you where." After hearing the corpsmans answer he made a sharp nod and went inside, leaving the cart on the right which was soon taken inside a stables away from the rain by some corpsmen.

When the group entered the main building through the thick oaken door they were met with a rustic practical interior, thick boards covered the walls and upon closer inspection weren't even all of the same type of wood. Corpsmen were seen carrying things, moving or just sitting in different places of the large building.
As they saw a bunch of men roasting a small pig on a spit in the fireplace a young child boy came up to them.
He was wearing a dark blue tunic, with a piece of canvas sewn on to resemble a clenched fist. It was however obvious the child himself had done the sewing.
-"Ar' you da mages?" The child spoke a bit nervously to Uneiuss and Orvel who was leading their group.
-"Yes, we're here to receive our orders." Uneiuss answered with his best leader voice. The kid just made a sort of bow and told them to follow him gesturing with his hands.

As they made their way through the building Uneiuss whispered to Orvel.
-"So what do you think?"
-"Suitably rough and ugly, fits them well, much less piss, shit and barfstains than i expected." Orvel didn't bother with whispering which caught Uneiuss off guard and tried to hush him to no avail.
They reached a large double door and entered, finding themselves in the dining hall. A room repurposed from a ball room into a room with as many tables and seats that could comfortably fit, while it was more on the filled with furniture side, it wasn't cramped.
A few corpsmen were sitting in a corner and eating a meal while discussing cheese, they barely even took note of the battlemages as they entered.
The child bid them to sit and hang their cloaks by the door. Which they did and they were told steelhead would arrive soon.

They sat and waited a while and a corpsman came out from a side door wearing and apron carried out a large pot steaming with some sort of food, shortly after Claus Rotstein entered through the main doors.
-"Ah finally! The mages, i've been waiting for you. I got you some grub, do take some" Claus was gesturing to the food with a broad smile on his face, his audience however were not overly impressed and just sat in place.
-"Suit yourselves." Claus added with a shrug.

Seeing the man who was supposed to be the imperial advisor of war gave Uneiuss mixed feelings, mostly feelings of 'who is this dork' and 'how did this man end up on the imperial council' but some other feelings as well.
After studying his brethren he realized they were eyeing not only Claus but also him to do something, so he spoke up.
-"Perhaps later, what can we except to do within the imperial guard?" He was serious and made a striking pose where he adjusted his glasses to sit closer to his face. Claus just looked at him and responded with.
-"Bleh, don't call us the imperial guard in our house, call it the fist. As for what you will do is a heck of a lot of marching, drills and training. We work hard and play hard, off duty most things go, but on duty i expect the very best of everyone."
-"So you expect us to be simple soldiers?" Uneiuss counter was sharp as a stiletto.
Claus dropped his humour.
-"I expect you to be battlemages, skilled specialists with unique applications. If there's a field battle, which i have reasonable reason to believe we will be in soon, i expect you to protect the fist and fling some nasty stuff the way of the enemy. In peacetime i expect you to advise me on how a mage would make my work as chief of the imperial guard hard, so i'll ask you how you would assassinate the emperor or just about anyone in the castle.
I also expect you to help out with logistics, carry stuff, advise me and my officers.
I expect you to be the best you can be, just like i expect every single man and woman in the fist to be. And if you aren't the best you can be, i'll make you the best you can be or i'll kick you out."
Finishing his last sentence, Claus gestured towards the door behind him with his thumb.
There was a pause, people looked to Uneiuss who expected something different, Claus changed his posture and spoke in a calmer way.
-"But let's focus on more fun things, like your new stuff!" He snapped his fingers and the little boy from before dragged off a sheet of cloth from a pile of equipment.
Claus took one of the packs and put it on a table with a loud thud. It looked like a cuirass with a morion helmet on top with soft things stuffed inside.
-"This is a standard issue pack of gear within the Steel Fist, modified to suit your needs as best i understand it after serving with battlemages in the past." He loosened a strap and began to show the contents.
-"A cuirass, a helmet, goat skin gloves for extra dexterity, make sure to keep these in sight since these cost a fortune compared to the normal gloves in the fist, so some of the new guys might get jealous. Bag of stuff like a wool blanket, razor, soap, rags, bowl and some sturdy boots. Linen hoses and a gambeson in black. There's some other stuff as well. If the clothes don't fit seek out Katrina or any of her aides, she's the quartermaster in the fist and she'll sort you right out." As he described each item he messily tossed it on the table so those present could see.
Uneiuss was surprised. While nothing fancy, the items seemed to be of excellent quality, even the armour which was munitions plate looked nice and sturdy.
-"Grab a pack each, there should be enough. Kiddo will show you your new quarters. And for Timtos sake do grab a meal! Tomorrow we'll go to an old tower down south and do excercises and we've only been waiting for you, so eat up and don't worry, i'll start easy with ya. But don't tell the boys i said that." Claus gave a deep grinning smirk at thr end, as he was fully aware of at least four corpsmen who were in the room with them.
He stopped and went and got a large shield.
-"Also you will be carrying these." He slammed the pavise unto the table making it rattle below it. Upon the surface a variation of the iconography of the Steel Fist was prominently visible, a clenched white fist holding fire on the classic black background.
-"Bert came up with the design, honestly he should be a herald but that's none of my business. You will be painting these on your shields since the weather got crap and we haven't had time to do it. You'll also get some maces." By which he took a mace and held it upside down resting on the table.

The room was mostly silent, the mages were used to getting some things for protection. But not plate cuirasses with lamed tassets and pavises, that one was completely new to them.
Uneiuss saw the obvious catch and asked.
-"So we're expected to buy these expensive things just to have the 'privilege' of being in the Steel Fist?" He almost added 'disgusting' to the end but refrained because of his politeness.
-"What? Heck no, most guys can't afford these things. They are provided by the Steel Fist and returned at the end of service. But a few guys take the helmet with them or the mace as a memento." A slight hint of bemused annoyance at the final part, Claus surprised Uneiuss and his kin again.
-"I see... it seems i was mistaken." Uneiuss was just overwhelmed, he was expecting something completely different, especially after he heard of the second battle of Telmarion.
A battle which Claus apparently had been a general in, or so he had read, which reminded him of a question he wanted to ask his new employer.
Partly to get a grip on his character and partly to get his opinion on mages.
-"So i heard you were a general during the second battle of Telmarion. How do you feel the battlemages were utilized during that battle?" He eyed Claus closely.
-"Poorly. Yeah sure it was effctive but such a waste of specialists. I'd have just used stakes or a bunch of pikemen. But then again most troops are scaredy cats so they would probably just have run their lot..." Claus answer was again unexpected but a welcome one, he seemed to be lost in thought gently rubbing his chin before he realized he was in front of a crowd.
-"Ah, doesn't matter, i didn't choose that deployment and only got there in the end. Not like i could have done anything different about it." He shrugged and plopped down the mace and went with a bowl to the still steaming food.
-"Do grab some, it's catfish stew. Heard it tastes like meat." He grabbed a large portion and sat down in front of Uneiuss and tasted the stew.
He looked Uneiuss right in the eyes and spoke directly to him.
-"It doesn't really taste like meat, but close enough. Send your guys off for food so we can talk?" His serious tone was suggesting an order, Uneiuss got the hint and told his men to grab some of the food.
Only Orvel stayed with Uneiuss.
-"So, you are trying to spoil us? Is that what this is?" Uneiuss was apprehensive still and it was obvious that Orvel shared his sentiments.
-"If i am is it working? More seriously though i'm not really trying to spoil ya. Entire Fist is getting that stew today and you are getting similar stuff as all the others. Minus a main weapon since your main weapon is in here." Claus tapped his head with his index finger.
-"You're mr Forrin? If you are i'm happy to see ya, always wanted a healer mage for the fist but as a mercenary group i could basically forget that. Not i don't have to rely on my barber surgeons to save the wounded." Claus was munching on his stew while talking, but he sounded genuinely relieved.
-"I am mr Forrin. I'll try to patch up some of your men." He sounded terribly bitter, so much that Uneiuss almost corrected him.
Claus stopped munching as he looked Orvel straight in the eyes.
-"And none of 'that' attitude please. This is the Steel Fist, here we are all family and help each other like it. I know you are new and we've never had a mage detachment before, but please try to fit in." He wasn't angry but annoyed, he knew fully well of the hatred and mistrust towards mages.
-"I promise to give anyone who bothers you about being what you are a good slap if you do." Where Claus added a smirk and returned to munching his food.

By now a few of the battlemages sat down and could listen in on their conversation, so Claus quickly emptied his bowl, literally pouring it into his mouth and putting down the bowl before speaking.
-"I'll leave you to it, tomorrow we march. I'm gonna try out my new potential with you. Be sure to rest well. I have things to plan now." After which he simply left leaving Uneiuss and Orvel with the others.
What would this bring them they wondered.

Next morning.
The Steel Fist was up early, waking several citizens whom were used to waking others like bakers, grocers and fishermen.
With perfect footfalls and pristine formations they marched through the streets of Nyhem heading for the gates.
They needed to get up early since the Steel Fist was soon to depart to the north to Uzgob and needed to get this training in before so the battlemages could be properly integrated into the fighting structure of the Fist. Claus had in the past been in command over varying numbers of battlemages with some success, especially in the first battle of Telmarion where he used them to great effect. But now they were an integral part of the corp itself and he needed every ounce of potential he could squeeze from them.

Uneiuss was not in the slightest used to the heavy armour, the massive pavise or even the weight of a mace at his side. Luckily for him he was gonna opt for his privilege as company lieutenant to bear the arms they chose themselves. He had been trained in his family to wield a blade to a decent degree and he much prefered the balanced weight of a sword to the lug of steel the Steel Fist maces were. Sure the handle was hollow but they were all steel.
In truth he was suffering, but he did his best to keep up appearances. Most of the other battlemages were used to marching and keeping formations but even they were not used to the pavises that hung on their backs.
He wanted to think ill of the corpsmen in front and back of him, but in truth he was impressed with their drill, fitness and determination. With all the rumours about the Steel Fist, he was not seeing the rag tag mercenary group who slept drunk on the streets, this was a formidable fighting force.

They marched for an hour, stopping once for a break to drink water and rest.
But eventually they saw the ruined outline of the old watchtower. Looming over the treeline.
A two-score horncall from Claus stopped the entire force, the close to simultaneus stop footfall of the entire company was almost eerie to Uneiuss.
-"Break march!" Claus voice boomed to make his order even more clear, he followed up with.
-"Meeting in a single stretch, i'll be on the main wagon. Lieutenants in front."
The corpsmen immediately spread out and began to do a well drilled and trained stretching excercise, focusing on precise movements which Uneiuss realized was designed to take a certain amount of time to perform.
The battlemages had never even heard of this excersise and tried their best to follow along.

Claus was sitting atop the largest wagon in his baggage train, the oxen were still in their spilts and now happily munching some grass when Claus began his meeting with his lieutenants who were simply lined up in front of him with the entire corps just standing there trying to listen in on the meeting.
Uneiuss and especially Orvel were more used to secluded command meetings in special tents where the troops were kept in the dark.
-"Alright people, we're here to train for the upcoming campaign in the north. Uzgob to be precise which is gonna suck. So you'll be fighting carrying double water rations. Then i want you to welcome our new battlemages!" Claus gestured to them and there were mixed reactions.
A few applauds, a holler, waved hands and a bunch of headnods.
-"I want them to be all our new best pals, since they will be keeping a lot of shit from hitting us. So again, make them feel welcome. But don't get too friendly, i do think most of them prefer women over your ugly faces." A few chuckles came, the sound of a woman spoke up.
-"What about me then?"
-"Oh do shut up Daisy!" Claus massive grin shaped his words, but the morale was high and a bunch of snorts and chuckles followed.
-"Right. Today we will have a mock battle, training gear is in the wagons as usual. If i catch anyone with a non training weapon i will have them whipped." Claus booming voice carrying well so a lot of those present could easily hear him.
-"Roogel will lead red side, Ashala........ Jorrel Harpe! You take blue side. I will be taking care of organizing the training itself." Claus for a moment forgot that she was dead, he however soon returned to his usual self.
-"You mages, you will form teams of five, since i heard you work well in groups. Take two teams for support on each side. Focus on defence. I'm thinking one group does only defence and one mixes in some offence. Oh and only non-lethal, i'm sure you can do stuff that gives the guys a good knockin' about." He gesticulated slapping himself while addressing Uneiuss.
-"If hit with a good hit, lay down in the safe way and wait until we're done. Katrina, show the mages the safe way and mr Forrin. You will be with Katrina until further notice."
-"Now go get your stuff!" Claus stood up and clapped hard twice and motioned for people to get going, not before long orderly lines of people getting several training weapons for their teams came up to the wagons and carried bundles of polearms and headbands in bright red or blue.
Roogel and Jorrel were choosing their lieutenants and Uneiuss went along and formed his detachment into two and went and got a bunch of headbands as well.

Within the hour the Steel Fist was deplyed in two forces of roughly a thousand men in each, with crossbow squads, scores of halberdiers and even mage support.
Uneiuss had been asked by Claus to try and guide the battlemage team of Roogel. He was unsure of this and seeing the opposing armies stood up like this opposed each other made him chilled to the core, he was just happy his first battle would be a mock one but still feared getting hit. True the weapons were only training weapons but the leather tips and pads were still perfectly good at giving a burst lip or an ugly bruise.

Orvel Forrin was getting increasingly bitter. Seeing the mock armies in front of him with the only direction to sit next to this little girl. Who apparently was the logistics officer of the entire company.
She was giddy with anticipation and soon all the battlemages realized.
The Steel Fist found the mock battles fun, some of them even had grins on their faces. It was apparent it was a sort of competition as well seeing how excited some were.

With a short sort of fanfare from his horn, Claus called the training to begin.
Immediately Roogel and Jorrel began to shout orders and manouvre their forces trying their best to defeat their opponent, the formations of perfect halberds moved towards each other, trying to shield their crossbowmen who soon set up small fortifications of pavises and began to loose leather tipped bolts upon their foes. The battlemages soon got positions and set up their own pavises and just when they were done a hail of bolts came raining down upon both forces.

Magical shields, gusts of wind and the occasional magical force blast began to form in the air as the battle grew more intense. Many of the bolts simply being flung aside not even close to hitting their marks.
With a loud crash the opposing sides slammed into each other and shouts and the clatter of weapons drowned out a lot of the noise in the entire area.
Nearby farmers looked on in shock, some even began to run to the capitol mistaking the training for some sort of invasion.

During this Claus walked up to Forrin and with a broad smile asked him.
-"Impressive isn't it?"
-"Their drill is better than expected, i give them that." Orvel Forrins crossed arms and bitter retort was not exactly standing ovations, but he was honest. They stood for a short while before Orvel simply couldn't take it any longer and asked.
-"Why am i on the side? Am i not trusted to be in the battle? Or do you wish to insult me?" He faced Claus who looked surprised and answered.
-"No. I simply had an excersice in mind i was gonna throw at you to see how you handle it." Orvel raised and eyebrow and let Claus continue.
-"Imagine this. You just arrived on this site following you restocking your mage thingy supplies in Nyhem. I am nowhere to be found and you get to this baggage train with Katrina here and this field battle going on against the enemy. Let's say Roogels red bands are the enemy. What do you do?"
Orvel thought for a second, opened his mouth to answer him but realized by Claus posture and demeanour that this was a test for him. He turned to Katrina.
-"Quartermaster, i need the medical wagon, there are wounded that need attention!" Orvel was a quick thinker and just began to go with his well groomed instincts of setting up emergency aid stations and sent out two of his guys to immediately recover fallen soldiers while hastily setting up a triage station.

After Katrina helped Orvel she returned to Claus who was just observing his mercenary force in its prime.
-"It's quite the sight isn't it?" Katrina asked with a broad smile on her face, Claus just nodded as she asked again.
-"Are you proud of em?"
-"Prouder than a momma seeing their firstborn walk. They are however lacking form and Terrance squad is not up to snuff." He was trying to hide his pride, but not very well.
Katrina gace Claus a long look and watched him study his companies every move in the excercise. This was his element, he thrived here.
They both studied the minor field battle in front of them. Eventually Harpe's division managed to send a task force to flank Roogels forces and got to the battlemages.

Uneiuss was shocked when he and his men were getting to feel drained that they were completely surrounded by corpsmen with blue bands, he felt the need to fend them off and was planning to until they simply demanded.
-"Surrender, or else we give you all a good clobbering!" It was told in a sort of cheerful glee and Uneiuss realised he had no interest getting clobbered by a fifty or so elite mercenaries so he and his men raised their arms.
Not soon after, having lost their magic support, Roogels division was driven back, a third of the remaining force was set to cover the retreat of the rest. This allowed roughly half of the remaining force to get away while the rest got defeated or captured.

Claus signalled training over after a while, trying to see how Orvel was doing and then began to clap loudly. The rolling applause spread and even hollers and cheers all around with people who seconds ago were fighting like crazy were now embrazing and high fiving each other.
The next hour was spent with Claus going over details he wanted to improve on, praise and comments before food was served.

In the middle of the meal, Claus stood upon a box and boomed out.
-"Alright, there is something i haven't done yet. I have a bunch of fighting to be done!" Many of the corpsmen cheered, while a bunch were just puzzled like Uneiuss and the rest of the battlemages but also the new guys hired in Telmarion.
-"For the new guys, that means i have a friendly duel with each and every one of ya! And i have never lost yet! So line up!" Claus explained and a bunch of people were readying to go.
Uneiuss however noticed the sour look on Forrins face and the apathic indifference of his kinsmen so he put down his bowl hard, stood up and marched off to Claus.

-"What about us?" He said with a stern voice, there was a silence as people listened with anticipation, most of all the battlemages who were assuming they would not be part of this.
-"About you? You wait in line like everybody else. I said EVERYONE, that includes you lot." Claus voice echoed over the entire area.
Uneiuss knew where this was going, so he put to word what all his men were thinking.
-"And i assume 'no magic' since real men don't fight with magic. Right?" He was crossing his arms and Claus got visibly annoyed.
-"Why should i pose such an ridiculous rule, you lot not being allowed to use their magic is like me not being allowed to use my arse, and while my farts are more deadly than any magic i'll refrain from using them since this is a friendly competition!" He lost his annoyance and ended with a smirk.
Uneiuss and the other battlemages were surprised about this, they were used to being set aside, to not be compared in bouts of physical fitness and combat prowess since they had magic but here comes this oaf and wants to do just that.
-"Very well, let's have at it then. Rules?" Uneiuss tried to play it cool and was doing a good job, but he had little actual clue of how these duels were done in the Fist.
-"Simple, first one on the ground and with too little GO left in them to stand up. No lethal attacks and all in good spirits." Claus was grabbing a padded mace, it was still a wooden slab with leather tacked unto it so it could still leave a good bruise.
Uneiuss was given a training sword and they stood up a handful of steps from each other, Uneiuss really trying his best to give his best fencers stance which Claus just leaned his head and scoffed at.
-"You been trained by a fancy teacher? What kinda stance is that!?" He followed up with a laugh and a smirk making his taunting obvious.
-"A stance taught to those of fine birth, unlike you mr Rotstein." Uneiuss retort was quick witted and he even surprised himself, he got a few hollers cheers and whistles with Claus laughing hard.
-"Haha! Are we fine folk now? Perhaps you forgot that i'm actually a lord now, so that's SIR Rotstein to you mister!..... HAVE AT THEE!" Claus gave Uneiuss little time to react and charged in with great speed, Uneiuss was caught off guard but still managed to parry Claus telegraphed attack.

Following up on his advantage, Claus swung from left to right back to left making his foe jump back and parry awkwardly. Uneiuss was not in the mindset yet and was frantically trying to not get hit.
But after Claus last strike where he stopped to give him a grinning smirk Uneiuss reached out his hand and began to channel magic.
Dots, orbs and miniature stars of light emerging like a constellation in front of him, radiating a bright yellow almost white light towards Claus shining weakly upon himself.
The blinding light caught him off guard, but Claus response was to shield his eyes and laugh.
-"NOW we're talking! OOF" His happy exclamation cut short with a solid strike on his helmet jarring him. Uneiuss halted his attack thinking he had struck too hard.
Claus retorted with a manical laugh and gave him a hard kick over the chest which sent him flying.
Had he not been a master Alteration mage, he would probably have hit the ground hard, but Uneiuss was a master Alteration mage and knew all sorts of implementations that others never thought about.
Like telekenesis of an object, like himself.
True it didn't mean he could fly, but he could catch himself, right himself like a rake that someone stepped on and launch a two-handed strike while doing so.
-"NICE TRICK!" Claus boomed while ducking, grabbing hold of Uneiuss belt and the neck of his cuirass and using the momentum to heave him over himself.
Uneius twirled himself in the air, landed softly on his feet and swept Claus feet from under him throwing him to the ground with a yank.

The crowd around them was positively booming with cheers and hollers, some even betting on the fighters to see who would win.
Claus raised his legs and shifted them forward to launch himself with speed to quickly rise up with little issue, he wiped his mouth which was wrought with spittle and he was panting heavily.
Uneiuss matched Claus smirk and took the fencers guard again, which made Claus refreshed with a new laughter. He'd never fought a proper battlemage up close, and this guy was using magic he'd never even seen before. In truth Claus had seldom had this much fun in a fight before and the crowd was going wild over it as well.
With a twitch Claus charged in, tossed his mace towards Uneiuss face which he blocked with ease and little effort. What he didn't block was Claus drop kicking him in the chest and sending him flying backwards a good metre or so landing hard.
He spent a few seconds breathing on the ground, he had fought in Claus mock battle the whole day and had rested only a while before this while Claus was all fresh from overseeing the whole ordeal.
Realizing Claus might think he has given up he held up his sword, pointed his palm at it surrounding it in magical essence showing as a vague glitter and used telekinesis on it to raise it upward, while also holding it effectively giving himself a hand to get up.
Meanwhile Claus was cracking his neck and demanded a training two-hander, which he got in short order while several corpsmen were hollering and ooing.
-"I seldom need one of these, but with you i'm making an exception. You have magic after all." He panted heavily and finished off with a wuick smirk and a flourish.
Once more taking his guard pose Uneiuss was ready to keep going.

With a quick downward thrust Claus closed in, Uneiuss pushed it aside with a motion of his hand and forcing it aside. Claus followed up with an upwards strike which got him good in the side and sent the mage stumbling back a few steps.
With another downwards strike Claus forced his foe on the retreat, Uneiuss had to step back once, twice, a hit left him kneeling and with a level swing from his right Claus swung his sword right at Uneiuss breast.
Kneeling Uneiuss held out both his hands, the moment the sword slammed into his hands it looked like it was covered in see-through stone made of glass, the secong later it crumbled and fell into nothing but the blow bounced like it had just hit a stone wall.
A bit jarred Claus followed up with a step in and pommeled Uneiuss in the head.
With a slight wobble to his movements, Uneiuss took a firm hold of Claus cuirass at the bottom with one hand and with a burst of magic he gave himself the strength of five men and tossed Claus a good man and a half height up into the air.
As Claus was falling down Uneiuss stood up, focused a destruction spell and slammed down with a force blast which hit Claus like a downward wind forcing him unto the ground.
The fall and that blast left Claus wheezing for air, but Uneiuss was now completely spent as well and keeled over and both fighters were left gasping for air on the ground.
The crowd was chanting 'Steelhead, steelhead steelhead!' and 'Magic, magic, magic!' with vigor.

It took several moments before Claus managed to stand up and walk over to Uneiuss, whom just looked up at him and panted heavily, raised a hand and created a small dancing ball of light which erratically danced towards Claus whom easily leaned out of its path.
-"I.... i like your style mage... call it a draw?" He held out his hand for Uneiuss who took it and Claus helped him up.
-"A draw... that... sounds fine...." His answer was strained and with little breath, but both of them had a smile on their faces.
-"Welcome to the Steel Fist mr Imass. You will make a damn fine addition!" With that Claus dragged him close and embraced him and gave a good slam on the back which left Uneiuss gasping for air. A roar of laughter followed from the corpsmen around them.
-"I will take a slight break before my next battle, not that i need it." Claus lied and got a few 'yeah sure' as a response.

After a while Claus began to fight people one by one as he was used to doing. Countering a blow with a fluid motion felling his opponent to the ground and pinning him in place.
The battles against the battlemages were often longer, but several of them were spent after the day and Claus could defeat them with much less effort than it took to take down Uneiuss.
Orvel Forrin gave a good show but in the end Claus managed to shift him to the ground and sit on his back until Forrin gave up.

After the long break, the corps set up another field battle training, with new matchups and mage support. Claus was experimenting with orders and tactics for the battlemages and how to utilize them while his lieutenants were getting used to the circumstances.
The march home was filled with bragging, compliments and friendly insults about the days achievements. To say it was marching was also a bit generous but Claus knew there was no need to ruin the good mood.
People were still talking of things from the day as Claus walked into his office, sat down and took a deep breath.
His men needed this day, to bond and to get crucial field battle skills for the future, a future that would very likely mean the Steel Fist going to Uzgob and fight the enemies of the new-formed imperium of Formaroth.

Letters.
He had sat down and written for an hour or so, the darkness had set in and the loud chattering outside had died down to a few barely audible words going past the door now and again.
He had sent out one of the kids with a message to the keep that everything was fine, it was only them training and not a hostile force which the farmers had thought.
Right now however he was in the middle of describing the latest imperial advisors meeting, he wrote in detail about his exchange with Isabel De'Reimer when he put down his pen and rubbed his eyes deeply.
He had been getting better sleep lately, but better was still not good. The nightmares occasionally came back and he at times were afraid to sleep.
And he thought of the ethics of things, how to run his company, how to make sure his men got out of the massive cat litter box of Uzgob and how to do his duties to the emperor to his fullest.
Well, good enough at least.
He took a gulp of water and dreamed of a good mug of Orog wine, or perhaps a strong grog. He wrote about Lanayas outrage and how he beat the crap out of Vivian Blackwell and of her fate.
With that he finished the letter with no name and the text 'as usual, burn this letter after copying it.'
He sealed it with wax with no stamp and wrote the recipient.
House Blackwell, ser Eli.
After which he sent for Roogel who arrived shortly.
-"This goes to the backyard place, you know the guy." Claus order was acknowledged by a simple nod from Roogel who left the room with the letter and no words.
At times he wondered if this was ethical, how it would affect the future of the realm, if this was worth getting a silly sword over.
He decided there is a price to a sword, that price was now paid.
Roughly five letters had Claus sent to the Blackwells since the old man had met him. Now six letters, letters filled with state secrets and crucial information written as well as Claus could understand it, which in truth wasn't always that well but smart people could probably puzzle together his incoherent scribbles and he knew that Eli probably devoured the information like a ravenous hound.
But now it was time for it to end. After all now he would soon be in all out war with the man and Claus didn't want to make it any more dangerous for himself than he already had.
Who knew, perhaps he had already given Eli too much. Perhaps it was nothing.
Perhaps he was just contemplating this to avoid going to sleep. It was seriously late and Claus just realized he was ready to drop.

Eli would have to find a way to cope with the loss of his letters. Claus cared little for it as he simply walked to his room and his bed.
As he opened his door he was met with a pair of gazing deep red eyes, they stared into his soul and they burned hotter than any fire.
As soon as it appeared it was gone. Claus heart was now beating harder than the drummer on a warship, he was even hallucinating, or so he hoped. The panic he felt was residing and he wasn't even sure anymore if he had even seen anything at all.
He wasn't even sure about his own hallucinations... he desperately needed sleep now.
With a heavy thud he sat down on his bed, reached behind his bedtable and produced a bottle of hard liqcor. The bassy plop of the cork leaving the bottle as he forced it out was distinct, but he didn't care, he cheered his inner deamons and downed half the bottle.
He put the cork back and let the booze set in, before he literally fell asleep from exhaustion.

It wasn't always like this. But some nights were harder than others.
Sometimes they still haunted his mind, the hollow ghosts and memories of the battle of hymns.

For the first time since he could remember, Daichi was in a hurry. His usual measured pace, a consistent tap, click, drag; right foot, cane, left foot; was almost frantic now. Sweat was beading his brow despite the cold emanating all around him. Gone were the white paper walls with their fragile bamboo frames and the polished teak floors. In their place was black volcanic stone, the cracks between blocks the size of wagons filled with green moss; water dripping here and there or running in small rivulets down the stone.

I always expect it to smell of the ocean down here but it never does. At least the floor is smooth. I should thank whoever built this. The same stone had been used on the floor, gleaming beneath lanterns that hung from the ceiling.

Tap. Click. Drag.

Behind him, moving with a lethal silence, came Mamiko. If it hadn't been for her shadow flickering across the walls, Daichi might have thought he was alone in the black corridor. A corridor broken every twenty paces by iron banded doors, the wood treated with honey and ash to preserve them amid the damp.

He thought he could detect screams behind some of the doors as he passed but encountered no one else in the long passage. Tap. Click. Drag. No passages branched off anywhere and he often marvelled at how the effect of the volcanic walls and floor made it look as though the lanterns were nothing more than small fireflies glimmering away into the pitch darkness.

"Here, Daichi-sama." Mamiko broke in on his thoughts. She has quite a habit of doing that. I wonder if she does it on purpose. He stopped abruptly in front of the final door in the long corridor. Beyond the small of pool of light he now stood in was a single iron gate was set into the rock. The very end of the passage. It led to a cave many steps below large enough for a single boat to access. The only way any of the prisons ever arrived.

He turned to the wooden door and tapped his cane on the wood. It was opened at once by a man who looked as though he had been carved from granite. Like Mamiko, he wore the deep red kimono and half face mask of the Kempeitai. He bowed low.

"Kai-san." Daichi nodded a greeting as he limped into the room. It was not more than twenty feet across, completely square and even the cracks between the stones had been cunningly sealed with a mixture of volcanic ash and plaster. In the middle of the room, on a platform raised a single step off the ground, was a large stone table. To one side was a wooden chair with pillow. He had never been so glad to see a pillow. Across the table was a matching chair and, slumped in it, head lolling against its chest beneath a woollen bag, was an Elf, still in the uniform of an Imperium officer.

I would drool in anticipation if I didn't think it would just dribble down my chin. It took him a moment to ease into his chair. He shifted around for a moment or two, his neck clicking and his hip popping, until he was as comfortable as he was going to get. Kai had moved behind the prisoner and was watching Daichi for a sign that he was ready.

At least I have the attention of someone. No grimaces or looks of pity from either of my trusted watchers. I wonder if he can smile. I thought I was a serious one. He nodded and Kai took the bag between finger and thumb before whipping it off the elfs head. I always expect them to sit bolt upright when that happens but not once has it ever happened.

The elf did not move. Dried blood crusted the corner of his mouth and an impressive black eye was forming. Daichi knew that he had been captured by Wokou, or pirates, in the Eastern Sea. It was no secret that Sadatake Daichi paid gold for such prisoners. The Wokou had made contact a day earlier and, in exchange for a license to hunt the enemies of Akaiba, they had turned the elf over to the Kempeitai.

Daichi ran his tongue over the broken stubs of his molars and clenched the fingers of his right hand until they hurt. There had been a time when he would have tortured the elf simply for the fun of it. Now, however, he needed information.

"Wake him up." Daichi glanced at Kai who nodded, his face still impassive behind the black mask. The big man stepped in front of the elf and gently began to pat the prisoners cheek. It was a tender touch, almost like a mother trying to wake a sleeping child.

He does that so well. He has no children as far as I know. Perhaps he is a closet father. Daichi would have giggled at the thought if he wasn't in public.

The patting worked. It always did. The elf began to nod his head, his eyes blinking in the light cast from the lantern above him. He coughed once and the spittle came out clear. Good, no internal injuries then, perhaps a cut cheek. Daichi felt the scars on his own cheeks and relished the coming conversation.

"Who..." The elf didn't get another word out as Kai suddenly pulled back his hand and administered an open palm slap to the side of the the prisoners head. The elf gave a surprised scream of pain as the blow lifted him and out of the chair, which rocked for a moment and then remained in place.

How does he do that? To knock a person out of a chair but leave the chair in place. That is skill. Daichi waited patiently as Kai knelt and easily lifted the elf back into the chair. The elfs eyes were rolling widely around the room now as he took in the two masked Kempeitai, the black stone and finally Daichi who stared back without expression. Fear blossomed in the prisoners eyes.

"Your name?" Daichi asked the question carefully. Getting smacked upside the head tended to disorient prisoners.

"Who..." An open palm slap interrupted the question. Not hard enough to knock the elf from his chair this time but enough to snap his head back so that the blue skin of his throat gleamed in the light.

"Your name?"

"Xilra..." The elf muttered the name. "Fleet..." The slap again.

"Just answer the questions I ask you, Xilra." Daichi noted Mamiko out of the corner of his eye taking notes. Good girl.

"Who are..." This time the blow was strong enough to toss the elf from his chair again. Kai moved quickly to prevent Xilra from hitting his head on the ground. He did nothing to prevent the elfs shoulder from striking the edge of the platform, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain.

Music to my ears. And this is only the beginning."Just answer the questions I ask you, Xilra." Daichi repeated himself slowly and this time the elf nodded. A shame. I would have liked to see you get smashed out of that chair at least once or twice more. "Your rank?"

The elf looked at him with something akin to exasperation before replying. "Fleet-Captain."

"Good." Behind him the quill scratched on rice paper. Daichi thought he detected a whiff of rose water with the movement. Interesting. "Fleet Captain Xilra. You are going to die down here." Eyes bulged in Xilras head. "The only thing you have a choice in right now, is how long that is going to take and how much pain you wish to undergo."

The elf licked his lips but didn't speak. A fast learner. Will wonders ever cease. Then a nod. Poets and storytellers always portrayed the subjects of torture as brave and courageous right up until the bitter end but Daichi had always found things to be quite the opposite. Tie someone up in a chair in a dank dungeon, slap them a few times, tell them they are going to die slowly, and most will tell you anything you want to hear.

"In case you are wondering what the alternative is..." A heavy wooden chest had been placed at one end of the table and Mamiko set aside her scribing tools to open the case. It had been built so that the back was raised, allowing anyone to look into the interior with ease. An array of tools lay before them. "Unlike some of my colleagues elsewhere in the world, I am not one for pulling finger nails or gouging eyes. No. I learned from your people that the teeth are a wonderful conduit of pain."

The elf paled as Daichis lips peeled back from his broken teeth into a snarl. The closest his he ever came to smiling. The movement alone caused his own gums to flare with pain and he grimaced. He cracked his jaw with a deft movement of the lower mandible and the elf shuddered at the sound.

"So. Keeping all of this in mind. I want you to tell me all about your fleet, Fleet-Captain. Spare no detail. I intend to compare it to what I already know and, who knows, if you know something useful I haven't learned already, I might even let you see the sun one more time before you die."

Rhodanthe had been out of her element ever since she had arrived in the South, but now that she had arrived at the royal Winter Palace, she had been feeling even more out of place than before. She was put into an intricate purple gown which Rhodanthe found itchy compared to regular clothes, and which was held up by a corset that was tugging into Rhodanthe so hard she felt that it had violated her. Her hair was put into a high braid which Queen Sorcha’s stylist had made in an intricate style. At least she had prevented her from putting her hair into the ringlets that the Queen had initially recommended. Barristan had told her that compared to what they wore in Nyhem, this clothing was plain, but that was not how Rhodanthe saw it. She breathed a sigh as she waited inside the guestroom, which was fancier than anywhere else she had ever slept. Queen Sorcha or one of her servants probably would come to get her any minute now, which was making her nervous. She had apparently entered her prophet state when she had been with the Queen before, and it seemed to have made an impression. After that the Queen took her from south to meet the King. He was her king now, so Rhodanthe hoped she could make a good impression. But she wasn’t good with this sort of thing and hoped that she didn’t mess up. Nearly all of the people who had come to Raeldar with her were no longer with her. Most had joyfully swore eternal loyalty to King Bearnard Sutharlan, and had run off to become soldiers or farmers. They were loyal to Rhodanthe and would rush to her side again if she could ever find them again, but they did not belong to her, and once she had fulfilled her goal of bringing them to safety, they no longer accompanied her. Only a circle of her closest allies and friends had remained with her, which including Barristan, her personal scout Alan, and her tutor Wilhelma. It was easy to feel isolated now. One wrong move, and with a word the King could send her back to Alasdair, perhaps on the end of pike. The thought made her shiver. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted when the door suddenly opened up. Rhodanthe quickly jumped up to her feet, or at least as quickly as one could in this corset. At the door was Asta, a servant who was about Rhodanthe’s age, but who had served the Sutharlans her whole life.

“Ma’am,” the servant said as she bowed. “If you would follow me.”

“Where’s Barristan?” Rhodanthe said.

“He is further down the hall, ma’am,” Asta said. “But he will not be joining you in the throne room.”

“Huh? Why?” Rhodanthe said. “I need ‘em with me.”

“His Majesty, on the advice of Her Majesty, is willing to grant you an audience,” Asta said. “But the invitation for you alone. I am sure you understand, ma’am.”

“Ah, ‘course. Everything’s fine as always,” Rhodanthe said.

Barristan was out in the hallway, waiting for her to come out. But, as Asta had said, it seemed that Rhodanthe would have to deal with this.

“You’ll be handlin’ this one alone,” Barristan said.

“Don’t see how I can,” Rhodanthe said. “Never met a king before.”

“But you’ve met a queen,” Barristan said. “And you did alright there.”

“That was different,” Rhodanthe said. “I wasn’t alone. And I didn’t hafta do politics.”

“The Queen has put a good word in for you,” Barristan said. “He’ll know who you are. Long as you keep yerself together, you’ll do well enough.”

“I’ll try me best,” Rhodanthe said.

Asta led Rhodanthe to the throne room. Two fearsome-looking guards armed with halberds and clad in heavy plate guarded the door. They gave Asta a nod and opened up the hefty red doors which marked the opening to the throne room. The cold grey stone was covered by an elegant blue rug with golden trimmings which led up to the throne. Sitting upon a tall throne of strange bluish metal was a man dressed in fine robes, and adorned with a great crown which consisted of two layers; the outer layer was white like ice, while the inner part was red like blood.

“That is King Bearnard – long may he reign – sitting upon the Chilled Throne, an artifact that was ancient even when the first Remonnet High King came,” whispered Asta said. “Sitting upon his head is the Red and White Crown. It symbolizes the union of the blood of the Remonnets and the Sutharlans, according to the historians. Some say, however, that it represents how the Remonnets left Raeldar in a sea of blood. But you did not hear that from me. And besides them is Octavia Celestine, Grandmaster of the Order of Saint Zacarias. Now, remember to address His Majesty with respect, and bow properly.”

Rhodanthe couldn’t do anything but follow Asta’s instructions. Rhodanthe bowed as deeply as she could. She didn’t have “manners,” but she hoped that she could make up for it by bowing deeply enough.

“M’lord, I’m glad fer ya summons,” Rhodanthe said.

“Raise your head, Rhodanthe of Uzgob,” King Bearnard said. “My Queen has told me much of you, your journey, and your gift of prophecy. You have earned my Queen’s trust, and perhaps even her belief, but why should I believe you? You do not have the look of a prophet. No one will mistake you for Klebrithy.”

“Dear, there is no need to scare the child,” Queen Sorcha said.

“I ain’t no preacher, y’majesty,” Rhodanthe said. “‘Scuse me, y’majesty. I might not have any o’ that proper ‘elokence’ other people that speak to ya’ do, so I can’t be thinkin’ of swayin’ ya one way or another. I dunno if you’ll see me as prophet. But me and the others, we came down this way ‘cuz there’s no other place we could go. When the de Reimers killed ah’ friends, and was comin’ fa’ us next, we knew we’d need a new home. That’s why, y’majesty, I humbly petition fa’ sanctuary.”

“You are right, you do not have ‘elokence,’” King Bearnard said. “But better the honest man’s truth than the flatterer’s treachery. Your request for sanctuary is granted, for now.”

“Your Grace, if you would,” Octavia said. “This girl is nothing but a heretic, her gift of prophecy nothing but the result of possession of demons. Her followers are miscreants, malcontents, and, worse of all, foreigners. Just as plague is a pestilence of the body, heresy is a pestilence of the soul. It devours, debilitates, and brings death to all it blights. We do what we can to cure this excruciating disease of the soul, but our primary aim should be to ensure that this disease does not spread to even more souls.”

“And would you have me eliminate Rhodanthe, as the source of this disease?” King Bearnard. “That is where your argument leads, correct?”

“Octavia, please be understanding of everyone’s position,” Sorcha said. “Rhodanthe has come a long way, and simply wishes for a place to call her own once again.”

“Your Grace, it is not as a girl that I bring my objections to Rhodanthe,”

“You called her a foreigner,” Bearnard said.

“Well, your Grace…” Octavia said.

“Do you see the problem, Rhodanthe?” Bearnard said.

“Sorry, y’majesty, I don’t quite know what ya’ mean,” Rhodanthe said.

“You ask for peace and coexistence, while the Grandmaster asks for the opposite,” Sorcha said. “Coexistence is not something which will be easy to do.”

“Might be, y’majesty. I ain’t know much ‘bout these sorts o’ things, y’majesty,” Rhodanthe said. “All I’s askin’ is that those’ve us who came into your kingdom get to live. I know they’ll work n’ fight n’ die fa’ ya. All I’m askin’ ya ta’ do, y’majesty, is ta’ do nothin’.”

“It will not be easy, but the people of Raeldar will obey their King,” Sorcha said.

“My answer has already been given,” Bearnard said. “Rhodanthe and her followers shall be given sanctuary. But I shall not take more. I do not wish for a horde of northerners swarming my borders.”

“Mylla will want to hear about this,” Sorcha said.

“That I will leave to you,” Bearnard said. “I am sure that she will want to meet Rhodanthe.”

Ser Oswyn knew that there were battles, campaigns, and other things of great importance happening in the east, but in this sleepy part of Iruladdin Oswyn had his own duties to tend to. Though it might have seen like Oswyn had disappeared for good, and was not to be seen again, here he was. He rode into the village of Dirge, having travelled an ancient dilapidated road deep into the forests of Iruladdun, and saw prying eyes staring at him in every direction. Oswyn could tell immediately this village would not be pleasant to him. The houses made of wood were clearly well-crafted, the hostility of the village destroyed any pleasantness their sight might have had for Oswyn. He had been told little of this village, since there was so little to tell. There was perhaps no place more secretive than the village of Dirge in all of Formaroth. This was the home of the Cult of Erena, the oldest monastic order in Formaroth, who existed even during Klebrithy’s lifetime. Owing to their ancientness, and the fact that they sided with Klebrithy, they were a link to an ancient past, and a source of legitimacy for the Church. Thus, the cultists were above reproach, however eccentric and secretive they seemed. They were said to be great magic users in their own way, but they were very different from those who learned at the Circle and objected to being called mages. In fact, it seemed they objected to a great many things. Apparently if you were an outsider, they were some of the touchiest people imaginable. As Oswyn rode into Dirge, men and women in thick gray robes stared at him in every direction. Oswyn thought he even felt like he was being watched from behind, since it was from behind him that the feeling of being watched was at its strongest, but when Oswyn looked behind him there was no one there. Nonetheless, the feeling of being watched from behind persisted.

“Outsider!” one of the cultists said. “Are you lost? You clearly are not a prospective initiative.”

“I come on behalf of the Church,” Oswyn said. “A diabolical plot has struck the Church and all of Formaroth, and your aid is requested.”

“If the Cult of Erena answered every call to arms, the Cult of Erena would never know rest,” the cultist said. “Know this, outsider. The Cult of Erena shall provide aid to the Church if we that is what is required of us, but not hungry for war. The elders shall decide if you are worthy. Past their tests, and if your cause is worthy the Cult of Erena shall die for you.”

“A test? Regardless of whether I pass or fail, your aid is needed,” Oswyn said.

“If the Church truly thought the situation was desperately enough to call for our aid, then they would send one worthy enough to pass this test,” the cultist said. “Now, outsider, continue on to the cave. There is another like you, but far more eloquent. She shall make one such as you understand all things.”

Oswyn knew better than to argue. He continued onward. The cultist had told him to head to the caves. With no knowledge of this village all he could do was move deeper into the village. He dismounted, and since there was no stable moved to tie his horse to a tree. Yet as Oswyn approached the tree, his horse strongly protested, raising his hooves up, kicking back and forth, and neighing loudly. Oswyn was surprised. His horse was hardy and fearless and had never objected to anything before. He would have run headlong into a wooden spike more than once if Oswyn had not been guiding him.

“Easy, boy,” Oswyn said. “What’s wrong?”

Oswyn did everything he could, but no matter what, his horse continued to whine and kick. Eventually Oswyn gave up when he realized that it wasn’t being tied to a tree that his horse feared, it was the idea of being near the forest that his horse feared. He could feel dozens of eyes peering at his failure to tie up his horse from all directions, and at first Oswyn felt slightly embarrassed. Then he realized that he was alone and had been for some time. He felt a gust of wind come through the forest and heard a rustling of leaves from within the forest. It was not a rustling made from wind. After Oswyn realized it was the sound of footsteps stepping against the leaves and twigs he felt a very strong urge to get away from their as quickly as possible. He took his horse’s rein in hand and walked away from them there as quickly as possible.

Soon Oswyn looked and saw a towering temple made of russet stone and bronze, much taller than the small wooden houses he had seen so far. It had been obscured by the trees, but as Oswyn approached he was in awe. It was simply made, and only a fourth the size of the Grand Temple, but in a village as simple as Dirge it seemed utterly magnificent. It resembled other temples he had seen to a degree, except for the strange runes carved on an inscription above the door. The runes had a certain resemblance to the common language but were different enough that he had no idea what the inscription said.

“Keep moving, outsider,” the guardian said in a monotonous voice that Oswyn somehow felt was full of malice. “You stand before the Temple of the Galcazhar. Only initiates, to partake in the Mysteriae Sacra Minora may enter, and your attire betrays the fact that you are no initiate.”

“Temple of the Galcazhar?” Oswyn said. “It was the Temple of the Galcazhar that Klebrithy based his own

“I know not of this Grand Temple, outsider, but when Klebrithy built his temple he took this very Temple as his model but dedicated it to all true gods instead of just one,” the guardian said.

“To think it still stands after all these centuries,” Oswyn said. “What does the inscription say?”

“If you cannot read the inscription, then it is not for you to know,” the guardian said. “The initiates can read it. Once they understand it, then they are ordained. But you are clearly not here for initiation.”

“No,” Oswyn said. “And I should be going.”

Oswyn went further into the village, as the guardian continued to guard the Temple of the Galcazhar. As he got deeper within, he finally saw the caves, which had been obscured by the trees. Oswyn saw many cultists standing by there. Several stood guard by the cave entrance, while others were busy meditating and reading. More striking, however, was a woman who was not clad in the gray robes of the cultists. He could tell immediately that she was an outsider like himself.

“Hello,” she said to him as soon as she saw him. “You must be the man that Grandmaster Lycaon sent.”

“Ser Oswyn at your service,” Oswyn said. “I am surprised to find another non-cultist other than myself here.”

“Yes,” she said. “I am Ricarda. By profession I am a mage, trained in the Circle, but I have had some dealings with Lycaon. Currently, I have been studying the Cult of Erena, the most ancient magical organization in Formaroth. This will be my sixth month together with the Cult of Erena.”

“It is hard to believe anyone could spend so long here as a visitor,” Oswyn said.

“They are not friendly at first,” Ricarda said. “They are simply very secretive and bent on keeping their ancient traditions alive. I think when they look to Nyhem they felt threatened. It represents such a different world, such a different way of life from the ways of the Cult of Erena that they are afraid they will be swept away if they allow others to get too close. I am sure you are suspicious of them. They worship a little differently than they do in other temples, and so they fear others would not be understanding. But make no mistake, they are as loyal to the Church as you are.”

“Then why are they watching us?” Oswyn said.

“Watching us? No, they are quite private individuals,” Ricarda said. “While they may have stared at you when they first arrived, they were just surprised. They will let you be once they realize you have a good reason for being here.

“I can feel them staring at me, through the forest,” Oswyn said. “They are hiding within and watching me. I have felt their eyes ever since I entered the village.”

“You must nervous,” Ricarda said. “There is no one in the forest. The cultists never enter into the forest, not even for scavenging, since the local lord provides food and water for them in exchange for the medicine they make. Besides, by birth these men are farmers and smiths. Do they look like the sort who could hide from you in the forest if they wanted?”

Suddenly, Oswyn felt a chill go down his spin. Though he could not prove it, Oswyn knew that something was rotten in the village of Dirge. Nonetheless, the Grandmaster had sent him here, and he would not allow this village to scare him away.

“The Cult of Erena’s aid is needed,” Oswyn said. “The situation is desperate. Heretics sweep across the land, especially, I hear, in that barren land of Uzgob.”

“Yes, the Grandmaster mentioned as much,” Ricarda said. “The initiates, I am sure, told you you need to past their test, I assume? The test itself is nothing much itself. All you need to do is go through the Cavern of Erena’s Respite, the cave just up ahead. And you will have to go alone. The elders are deep inside the cave, and I am sure they will aid your request, if you make clear how desperate the situation is. But you should be careful. You are not a mage, so you cannot tell, but the magic is incredibly thick within there. There are things within there which I saw that I still cannot explain.”

It was just then that the sound of a great bellowing came from within the cave.

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” Oswyn said.

Leaving Ricarda and the village of Dirge behind him, Oswyn stepped into the cave. It was pitch black inside, and the only illumination came from the dim light seeping in from the outside. Oswyn had no choice but to use his hands and feet to feel his way around. Suddenly, it began to become darker, and he could no longer see any light. He moved around slowly, feeling the wall in front of him to feel for a way forward. Eventually, he found two different openings in the cave. As he was thinking which path to take, Oswyn saw a light emerge, seemingly from random, at the center of the cave. Oswyn could have walked towards it, but he couldn’t help but think it was a trap. He took the left path, and walked into the darkness, deeper into the cave. As he walked blindly through the path, he felt like the ground from under him disappeared, but he did feel himself fall. Then he felt as if all the oxygen in the cave disappeared. He gasped for air, and tried to run out of there, but it was all in vain. Every direction he moved he felt only the cold rock of the cave’s walls and began to suffocate. As he was about to pass out air once again filled his lungs. He moved his hands around him but could feel nothing. A second ago he had been surrounded by rock at every side, but now they were gone.

In the distance he heard the sound of water dripping. He followed the sound, until he found a source of water. He could not tell how large the source of water was, but it was at least large enough for him to deep his arm into. Then he heard a splash. It was definitely a splash, and not the ripple of a drop of water falling into the water. It was the sound of movement in the water, and Oswyn, even in complete darkness, could tell that it was no fish that was wadding in that water. He heard a bellowing, the sound of a voice unbelievably low and loud making a great groan, and then a great force knocked Oswyn to the ground. It was not an invisible force. It was like a great, long, wet tentacle knocked him to a ground. Or so he thought.

“What are you!” Oswyn screamed. “Gods, tell me, what madness reigns in this damned village!”

Oswyn thought he heard a laugh, a terrible and low laugh that sent chill through him and threatened to drive him mad. As he went to draw his sword, he felt something knock it out of his hand and smashed the blade to pieces. As he was knocked to the floor again Oswyn saw a light with a slight green tinge. Against his better judgement he leapt towards it. It felt like for an eternity he crawled towards it frantically, until he saw a vision of a glowing woman in white, but in a moment, it seemed to fade.

“Your fate is a terrible one, for one so loyal. You are condemned to live, and see the whole truth revealed.”

Oswyn was on the ground and felt like he had just awoken from a nightmare. His sword was gone, and there was once again a dim light coming from outside the cave. Before him he saw three people sitting cross-legged at the back of the cave. They were robed, and Oswyn could not see their face. Oswyn still had not settled down. The memories of what had happened were jumbled in his mind, as if they had not been real, but Oswyn could not dismiss them. He saw them. Thus, he was far from being calm.

“What was that? That light, that creature?” Oswyn said. “Elders, tell me! You live here, don’t you? You must understand. Tell me!”

Oswyn was knocked back as a gust of wind struck him. Yet it was only one of the elders’ magic, annoyed at the noise Oswyn was making.

“You have made it this far, outsider,” the elder in the middle said. “And you are not fit for the mysteries of this cave. Tell me why you are here, and you shall have your answers.”

Oswyn still had his mind on what he had seen in this cave. But at the elder’s words he was suddenly aware once again of why he had entered the cave in the first place. The panic in his mind faded.

“The…the Church has need of you once again,” Oswyn said.

Then Oswyn spoke to the elder for a long time. He spoke to him so long that his eyes began to adjust to the darkness around him. Oswyn told, in detail, all that had transpired from the beginning of Johannia’s rebellion, to the unrest the heretics were spreading across the east, to the rebellion in Uzgob. Then there was silence for a long while. It felt like an eternity to Oswyn. Eventually, however, the elder spoke.

“So it has come,” the elder said. “‘The end shall come when blood sweeps the land, and four plagues shall come and bring the land to a final ruin. The First Plague brings death to the tree of life and turn the parchment to stone. The Second Plague shall divide the soil and sap it of its strength and unity. The third shall sunder Truth, and falsehood long hidden once again shall. The fourth shall bring again the forces of darkness, and the land shall once again be shrouded in darkness.”’

“What is that, elder?” Oswyn said. He felt that it sounded familiar, but he was no theologian.

“The Last Prophecy of the Devi,” the elder said. “And so it comes. Tell Lycaon that the Cult of Erena shall aid him in all his ventures. Command, and we shall obey. But warn him that we shall not participate in politics; the power struggles of kings and bishops is no business of ours. Such squabbles are the business of rats and carrions, fit only for men who have turned their souls black with vain and fleeting ambition.”

“He shall be glad to have your aid, elder,” Oswyn said.

“And you still have questions,” the elder said. “I promised you I would answer, and now the time has come.”

“I saw…things,” Oswyn said. “The light disappeared, I was surrounded in complete darkness. The walls around me vanished, and I saw myself in a cave with a creature in the water. It overpowered me, its tendrils grabbed. And I saw a light, a woman, more beautiful than any I had ever seen before…Was it real?”

“The cave does not lie,” the elder said. “But one such as you cannot hope to understand. The magic here is great, and its magic is still active. Ask the mage outside, and she shall tell you the same. Yet you are one who is untrained in magic. You are unable to understand the truths of this. There are ancient things in things in this cave, and ancient truths hidden here, things which can only seen through years of meditation and practice of the magical arts. Erena herself blesses some with visions of herself and departs knowledge. Perhaps, for some reason unknown even to us, there was some reason that you were given a vision of her. Whatever she told you, I advise you to ponder it, though I doubt one not versed in magic and the ancient writings could understand her words.”

“And the beast?” Oswyn said.

“There are only so many secrets we may divulge to an outsider,” the elder said.

“Then I leave you now, elder,” Oswyn said. “The Grandmaster shall be glad to hear of your support.”

The elders had nothing else to say to him, so Oswyn left them. He was able to leave the cave by following the light behind him. It did not resemble at all the place that Oswyn had been blindly wandering around a few moments ago. It was strange, like running down a long hallway, looking back, and discovering you had been a hut the whole time. This cave had no end to its mysteries. When he was out of the cave he took a deep breath, glad that he was finally away from it. Ricarda was there, looking over some papers and books when he emerged.

“You’ve finally returned,” Ricarda said. “It’s been nearly four hours since you entered into that cave.”

“Four hours? Impossible!” Oswyn said. “I could not have been in that cave for more than twenty minutes.”

“Look for yourself,” Ricarda said. “The sun is setting. You will have to spend the night in the village.”

“Let us hope that it will be a peaceful sleep, and not an eternal one,” Oswyn said.

“I’m sure you had some difficulties in that cave,” Ricarda said.
“That is putting it lightly,” Oswyn said. “I saw things I cannot explain.”

“The magic in that cave is quite thick,” Ricarda said. “If you aren’t versed in magic you won’t be able to handle. It leads to what we might call hallucinations, though that is oversimplifying things. Others are knocked unconscious and are given unexplainable dreams. It leads to temporary memory loss. They cannot remember being knocked unconscious.”

“But what I saw there, it was real,” Oswyn said. “I know it. I remember it well.”

“Well, they are very lucid dreams,” Ricarda said.