The Ballroom

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Ellinor Myren stuck out from the crowd. Though she imagined most of the people that were to do the fighting would stand out, the Moorish girl's total lack of formality caused her to part the crowd a little bit. She was wearing the furs of a couple of white wolves she had hunted, aswell as leathers and clothes from various beasts. Her short blonde hair had been combed recently in an attempt to seem worthy of being a guest of such an auspicious event. A headband was wrapped around her forehead, a few inches above her arching, thick dirty blonde eyebrows and sky blue eyes. Her face was sharp, with a nose that rounded off and upwards at the end above a set of pale pink lips that had been parted on the left by a scar recieved long ago. There was a particularly deep healed gash along the right side of her face. It caught the shadows as she peered from side to side. As if her rural clothing wasn't enough, as far as women went she was tall and strongly built, standing at 5'11 with broad shoulders. The Moorish warrior's mouth dropped open as she stared wide eyes at the opulence around her. Still, her outlandish appearence wasn't the thing that made her feel isolated. No weapons were allowed at the event, and Ellinor had complied. She felt naked without a shield strapped on her back and the axe in it's proper leather loop that now hanged limply on her right side. But if she had been caught with a hidden dagger it would have given a bad impression. Not to mention hiding a dagger in a first place was an impolite and rude thing to do. Ellinor wanted to be respectful- especially for the hostess of this particular opulent event.

Her boots clunked noisily on the marble flooring as she wandered into the audacious room. Some of the noble guests gave her accomodating smiles. They all knew why she was here, indeed, she was one of the honored guests. Ellinor smiled meekly back at them and tried to get out of their view. The shield-maiden felt out of place- but it was the first of many sacrifices that would be required on this journey. Oh, yes, Elly thought with a sardonic waggle of her head. What a sacrifice. So terrible to be treated to live music, delicious food, and a night of luxury. Woe is me!

All internal jokes aside, Elly's stomach grumbled as she caught side of the ridiculous cornucopia of food. Smiling she quickly plucked the leather gloves off her hands. Her fingers were strong and calloused, and she immediately went to the meat section. Begging the pardon of those nearby, the tall woman had to restrain herself from falling into the ravenous eating habits of her home land. She was among nobler company. Putting on a dignified pose she plucked a drumstick from the cornucopia and placed it on her plate.

"You're supposed to use these," an older gentlemen next to her offered humorously, apparently waiting for the obviously out of place girl to make a slip up. He was holding some kind of metallic claw.

"Ah. Of course. Thank you," She spoke with a Moorish accent, giving her voice a unique borderline sing song quality, with the words sounding like they were getting caught in the back of her nose. She accepted the advice and began to place various slabs of meat on her plate, then she got the potatoes and the vegetables. Elly was a hearty eater. A night of indulgence in preparation for the long weeks ahead.

With a great harrumph she almost broke a chair as she flopped down, placing her plate onto the table with a loud noise. Immediately she shrunk into her shoulders a little bit, glancing around. Fortunately most of the people around her were sympathetic to her plight. After all, they would be just as out of place in a Moorish festivity.

Slotting a piece of turkey into her mouthh Elly smiled and glanced around. People chit-chatted away near her. An eldery woman dressed in refinery met Elly's gaze and smiled lightly.

"'Ey there," Elly greeted with an upwards nod of her chin, swallowing her food. "My name's Elly." She reached across the table and extended her hand. The noble stuck her fingers forward gently, Elly clasped them and gave them a stern shake, then sat back into her chair.

"Hello, dear. My name's Sabrina Pendleton. Are you one of the champions setting off a journey tonight,"

"Aye. What gave it away?" Elly said with a smirk, opening her arms as if to gesture to her battle-ready attire.

The woman laughed politely. Elly was trying to make nice but she knew her type. Could never tell if they were being genuine or not. "Well, thank you for your service." She said.

"No problem, no problem at all. Say, I wasn't allowed to bring any weapons in, but look at this pretty little thing." She pointed the tip of the refined silver knife upwards to the sky. "Knew a lad who killed three angry boars with a knife no smaller than this. Boards the sizes of horses, he claims, but I ain't so sure about that last bit. Still, he brought back some hell of a pelts." She grinned. "The knife he killed them with was too small to skin them, so he had to make a bone knife outta their tusks. That part, at least, is true- he let me hold it. Lad's name was Ulfric, went by Ulfric the Boar after that." Satisfied at her story telling she began to indulge in her meal once more.

"Really? That is...fascinating." Sabrina said, looking the woman sitting across from her up and down. An older gentlemen with a bushy mustache sat down next to Sabrina. "Have you met my husband?" She asked.

"Hey there, I'm Elly." She said, reaching across the table for a handshake. The man stared at her indignantly before cautiously moving out his hand to do the same. They gave each other a firm handshake and apparently whatever doubts he had in his head vanished.

"Hello there, Elly. I'm Artemis Pendleton. Pleasure to make your acquiantence. You are from the Isle of Moore, I assume?"

"Aye. You?"

"Thelan, of course. Are you eager for the journey ahead? Were I a younger man, no doubt I would be joining you." His wife tsked and held his arm. "What? It's true. I was quite the fighter in my day."

"I don't doubt it, Herr Pendleton." Elly said, gesturing abstractly towards the gentleman in a way that seemed to please him. The three of them got on to chatting. Elly paid her due in the conversation but every once in a while her eyes wandered over their heads. No doubt Alice had clocked Elly the second she walked into the room, but the Moorish woman couldn't say the same. Alice probably had her hair all done up and was wearing some fancy dress. Plus, she had grown into an adult woman since the time they had seen each other. Elly sometimes she felt like she hadn't changed much at all. Perhaps that would be true were it not for her increase in size and her face's two prominent scars that were unfamiliar to Alice.

This whole trip had her nervous and excited. Nervous, of course, because it was going to be a long and arduous journey. Excited, because this was her life's purpose. To find the Queen and preserve the fragile peace between nations. It was a long shot, sure. They didn't even know where she was. But they would find her, and bring her home. Whatever reason it was she left, Queen Anice had a responsibility to her people to stop the war. It was inevitable. King Charles sat lazily in the corner, casually terrorizing his servants. Truth be told, people like him irked Ellinor. Still, she wasn't fighting for him, was she? Her brothers and sisters back home. Their parents, their friends, their siblings. Many would be lost in the wars to come, and many would grieve. She had to prevent it. At all costs.

"...and that is the story of how I earned my one and only medal," Herr Pendleton concluded heartily.

"Incredible," Elly agreed, realising she had only half paid attention. Apparently the elderly gentleman was a sailor type.

"Well, you're not half bad a story teller yourself, young lady. With people like you representing us I'm sure we'll..." He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "I'm sure you'll find Queen Anice in no time."

Elly nodded somberly. "Aye. I certainly hope so." Those at the table paused their conversation to carry on their meal somberly. The Moorish woman couldn't quite pinpoint what had soured the mood, but the spark of storytelling had died for a moment. Her thoughts drifted to other things. Ellinor began to wonder what kind of allies would be accompanying Alice on her journey. Obviously, Ellinor. But as far as she knew, Ellinor was the only Moorish warrior on the journey. The rest were back home gearing up to go burn down the fields of Alovia, something that no doubt filled the minds of those Alovian merchants who cast wayward glances at the back of Elly's blonde head. Who else was there? Thelians, of course. Alice must have picked the finest soldiers of Thelan to accompany her. Alovians? She was wary of them and their kinship with the witches. A witch or two must be coming with them on their trip, Elly thought grimly. With a sigh she picked at a piece of greenery on her plate with a fork. Ellinor wasn't sure how she'd ever get along with a witch. She would have to try, though, for Alice, and for the cause. Besides, if they agreed to go on this quest, they couldn't be all bad, could they? If Alice had picked them out, she trusted her judgement. A lot can change, though. Still, from letters Elly recieved every so often, Alice seemed to be mostly the same, if wiser. Elly wrote back to Alice far less often than she would have liked. She never was good at reading or writing. Fortunately, her literary skillset was not the one being sought after on this day.

Ｗｏｌｆ.

Thelan Capitol

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^{August 31st Midday to Sunset | From his inn to the King's Court | Matthias, his past, Ellinor}

"No, no, you reeled it in too fast!"

"Da', come on, I got the fish."

"That's not the point. You got to be patient, pull it in too fast and it'll get loose and you'll have wasted a worm."

"...Alright."

"That's me boy."

Donk-donk-donk

The dream of a life that never was - yet could easily have been - escaped the Hunter of Witches, who rolled over to cover his head with his pillow.

Donk-donk-donk. "You got to be out of the room ten minutes ago."

The man cursed.

"Just a second!" he called out, standing up slowly and listening to the sound of angry muttering punctuating footsteps. What day was it? Feast Day, August 31st, departure soon. Wolf mentally thanked his educator for having taught him the method de loci, the technique helping him quite a lot in this sort of groggy moment as now. He emptied about half of a waterskin on his face before drinking what remained. Wolfgang took a seat on his bed, removing a small mirror from one of his bags. After a few moments of thought he removed the small pellets in his cheeks to change the shape of his face. He also trimmed his beard, before getting to the arduous task of unbraiding his hair. He was going to assume a new identity, and the full degree of it he didn't even know himself.

"Sir Dietrich Lotheringai." he said aloud, thinking back to how he was to be introduced. For this journey his masquerade would be as one of Thelan's more rare Knights, as he kept an eye out for the arcane villainies of the unknown, but also for treacheries that defined Witches - and Alovia as a whole - that might appear from Wolf's supposed comrades. After a moment of thought it was decided Dietrich had a short but not wholly kempt beard, and long hair of a off blond colour. For once, perhaps the first time in decades, Wolfgang would go somewhere looking as himself. Ironic perhaps, given just how few would recognize him as such. Wolf wondered if his brothers would be there. Probably not, last he heard they were far south overseeing construction of roads to facilitate more trade with the Baldori. Truly, a family international. This wasn't entirely a blessing of course, it ended up encouraging his Sister to marry an Alovian, a thought that sickened Wolf to his very core. But this wasn't the time for that, he had to get in character, he had to trick his very own mind into fully engrossing itself in being this Dietrich character.

While going through those mental motions he went on to take inventory of what he had brought along. He raised up the modified Burgonet with Buffet helmet his persona was to wear, turning it this way and that before placing it in its rightful bag along with its accompanying suit of full plate. The large sword he brought along was momentarily unsheathed and oiled before also being put away. Crossbow, shield, sidearm, this, that, and Dietrich's things were packed. There were then his real things, of course. The lighter duelling blade, the hand crossbows, the little blades to hide, and of course all the little tools he might need for the death of his nemeses. Ah, he could already hear the cries of pain as music. Well, it was time to get dressed. He forewent his usual leather variation of nobleman's dress for an actual version of it, masterfully tying his headdress and the rest of his outfit to conceal a few sharp implements. Yes, weapons weren't allowed. But in the presence of those that could sling spells one could never be too careful.

Wolf was about to exit the room, but he paused, realizing he had one more thing to do. He had to actually change his attitude, his mindset, and his thought processes to finally become Dietrich. He had to get a sense of honour, and forget that the best way to kill a shiny bastard was to snap his neck in the night. He had to forget the necks snapped and his incandescent hatreds, he had to forget that very often in life "up yours" was a very valid response to various propositions. Confidently, the man that was now Dietrich looked outside of his window to find his stabled horse. A wonderful beast by the name of Billy, he wasn't typical for a real Knight. The animal wasn't a purebred, nor was he very fast or bearing a glossy coat. Billy was a working man's horse, and that was what Dietrich needed. Billy was massive, the type of horse which made you feel unnerved when you remembered the old wives tales of man eating horses which now seemed to have potential credence. He wouldn't win races, but far more importantly Billy would win marathons. Besides, with a little dye, grooming, and cloth barding with a hidden layer of chainmail he looked very presentable, his height making anyone atop his back appear oh so chivalrous.

Wol–… Dietrich jumped out of the window leaving his pay on the bed to make sure nobody saw him in his transformed appearance. He legged it to the stables, mounted Billy and rode off to an address memorized long ago. It wasn't too far, and as he dismounted upon arrival he wasn't too surprised to see a face waiting for him.

"You're late."

"Matter of fact, I'm not."

"Maybe. Worth a shot with you though. Come on then, I'm baking in the sun. Get your lazy arse over here and push me to the feast. I have a longing for a good champagne, they really know how to pick them there."

Dietrich walked over, and began to push the man along in his wheelchair to the feast. "Mmmm."

"Something on your mind, boy?"

"Yes, actually. The people I'm to go with? It is them that you can really call boy. All of them in their twenties, sometimes thirties if lucky. As it stands, I'm the only true veteran among them. They're all children, Sire. Not one of them truly tasted war, to the last man they're wannabe heroes that think stabbing a few bandits makes them some sort of bad arses. If worst comes to worst… Well, the ones on our side won't remember what Alovians really are, what they stand for. Even a week could be enough for their young minds to develop enough camaraderie with the foe's representatives to not crack their skulls while they sleep.

Matthias, the now extremely aged former mentor of a man named Wolfgang cackled evilly before striking Dietrich in the eye with his cane. "You know you're getting soft yourself. The Alpha I worked with before would have blocked that. The peace years made you exactly like them, don't complain!"

Dietrich chuckled, leaning in after a moment to whisper in Matthias's ear: "The Alpha you knew would keep his calm in a situation his disguise might be compromised. Right now he is a Thelanian Knight performing Noblesse Oblige to an elderly hero of his country, he would not make a scene."

"Perhaps. But certainly he wouldn't have complained. Tell me, do you remember the first person you killed?"

"Yes." Dietrich replied, thinking back to that early morning, the stake, and the girl he burned upon it.

"Good. What about the first person you killed by yourself? Without any help whatsoever, without any prompt, alone." Matthias continued, having been there for the scenario Alpha had just thought of.

Yes; Wolfgang remembered it very, very vividly. It was a cold night, just before winter such that one's breath was visible in the air. He had run away from a patrol of Alovians following a failed attempt at assassinating a Witch, now at the no man's land between the two warring sides. He and Matthias had split up so that if one was caught the other might yet have hope. But young Wolfgang had gotten caught by an Alovian Knight, the man on horseback having jumped off and landed on the boy. They struggled, and eventually parted with both drawing their swords. Wolf was very skilled with his rapier, but though such a weapon was reliant on finesse he had in abundance the fact he was fighting a man twice his age meant he was promptly disarmed.

The Witch Hunter's apprentice looked side to side, and knew the Knight was too close for him to try to run away. Instead he cried and dropped to his knees with either hand on his head protectively while bursts of snot came from his nose. "I'm so sorry sir please I'm not even fifteen oh God mother please help oh God…" he wailed, looking up to the sky. The Knight looked at the boy, and his chivalry overtook him. He couldn't kill a surrendering child, and so he informed Wolfgang he was now a prisoner of war assuming the boy was too frightened to do anything else. The Knight turned, going to his horse for some rope to bind his new prisoner.

Wolfgang wasted no time, retrieving a stiletto sewn into his collar and as quietly as he could rushing over to the Alovian after his feigned surrender. In the very last moment the Knight heard him, and spun with a swing of his sword. But it didn't save him, for Wolfgang was prepared for this. He kept low, stabbing the Knight in the exposed side of his knee, twisting the blade as it entered flesh and forcing it down to the ground with a wet noise. With yet another vile twist he removed it, rising up to tear a gash in the Knight's throat and push him down on the ground with his whole body's force placed into a shoulder strike.

Wolfgang pushed off of the falling man into an upright position, chuckling mockingly. "You're one of the famous Knights? Honour didn't do you much good, I'd say. Really you're not much to speak of if you got down by just a boy!"

The Knight gurgled before clutching his throat and managing some words. "Please… Wife… daughter, son, baby… I want to see them… Love them…." These words certainly gave the young Wolfgang pause, and seeing the pleading look in the man's eyes he almost went to give him first aid. But then he thought back to his own family, to the people he was protecting and to the many families of Thelan, Moore and Baldori that wouldn't see their fathers and sons once more thanks to the hideous efforts of creatures such as this bleeding aggressor. Smiling, Wolf leaned in to the man to speak to him face to face. "They will grow up fatherless, save whatever scum defiles your whore wife while you're off here doing evil." Wolf thrusted his fingers in the man's wound to spread it wider and make sure it was beyond any treatment, before spitting on the fading Knight's face and continuing his escape.

"I said, do you remember your first personal kill?"

"Yes, yes I do." Dietrich replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"All these people you're going with? They had a similar moment. They might not know why they're fighting but they know what they're fighting for. Do your duty, all will turn out for the best. Now stop being pissy, you have to smile to all the Alovians, be the charming Knight your ugly soul stopped you from becoming."

"I hope so." the former pupil said, pushing along a soon snoring Matthias until he reached the Palace. "We're here." he said, helping the old man collapse his wheelchair and get him walking on the cane. They entered the scene, making sure the Witch Hunter was announced as the Knight Dietrich Lotheringai to any who inquired. Dietrich scanned the room, finding allocated seats before sitting down. While Matthias looked here and there to make sure there wasn't anybody to recognize his student from the past, Dietrich gorged himself. With but a swipe a turkey's leg would find itself devoid of any meat, though the bone would appear on Matthias's plate, the old fellow doing his best to accommodate Dietrich by eating voraciously too in hopes of making others believe he committed this minor genocide of turkeys rather than Dietrich. In a flash he downed a glass of wine, but it really wasn't enough. He searched about the area until his eyes settled upon a woman clearly from Moore, overhearing her name as Elly. He sidled over before leaning in with a whisper.

"Pssst, got anything stronger than this grape juice they're serving? Maybe a bit of Mjod?" the 'Knight' said in Moorish, brushing aside a hanging line of his head dress thinking back to distant memories of that sweet but head smashing drink.

Taupo Tribe

She squinted slightly in the dark of the jungle, waiting for her eyes to adjust after hours spent facing the blazing bonfire. The roaring of the war drums, that had sounded from sun-up and continued unabated, dimmed as she left the communal field and picked her way towards the forest. Smiling and thanking those she came across, all with a prayer of safety for the leader of the Nantegan delegation, Talia came to stop just beyond the border of her home and the greater jungle. The chattering voices, the sounds of many *hapūs celebrating slowly fell away as she closed her eyes and knelt on the soft ground. Placing both hands flat on the earth she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Just as the buzz of energy had fallen away, so too did her fears and apprehension. They would leave tomorrow. And tomorrow she became officially responsible for the lives of every single Nantegan representative. Tomorrow she became the leader, the face of Nantego. Tomorrow the honor and the strength of her people depended on her. But today, right now, she was scared. The responsibility, the worry, the nervousness weighed down her shoulders.

All too soon the quiet, almost meditative state she had been lost in snapped as she heard the muffled footsteps slowly approach. A gentle hand pressed between her shoulder-blades, carefully navigating around the massive tufts of grass comprising her ceremonial garb. “It’s time, my love.” Her mother’s understanding tone almost caused tears to prick at the corners of her eyes as the rest of the world came streaming back in. She allowed her head to fall forward, sending a prayer to the Mother Tree, as she pushed her tears of relief back before she quickly whirled around. Talia pressed her nose and forehead against her mother’s in the traditional greeting of her people before she pulled back with a wide smile. “Mama! You made it back!” As a Chosen, her mother had been sent on a week long pilgrimage to the Mother Tree, to ask for guidance and safe passage for the Nantegan delegation. However, Talia had been unsure as to whether her mother would make it back before she left. She had held onto the fact that her mother had at least seen her naming ceremony, the name that would go on to represent her to the rest of the *iwi for as long as people spoke of her.

“Of course I would. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” Linking her arm through her mothers, the two women made their way back towards the bonfire and the party that raged around it. People from different hapūs met up with old friends and acquaintances, uncertain as to when they would next meet. At her appearance, a low hum of noise rose as other members of the delegation broke away from their groups and made their way towards the dance area, set to the left of the bonfire. Saying goodbye to her mother, who had joined her family at the head of the crowd, she grabbed her ceremonial spear and took her place at the head of the formation. She waited until she heard the sounds of the others shifting into place settle before she thrust out her spear, a booming cry on her tongue.

“*Kikiki! Kakaka!” she screamed into the night sky, silencing the crowd gathered before her. She bared her teeth and tongue in a snarl, the warriors behind her following suit. Like this they waited, intermittently letting out snarls and cries as they let the anticipation thrum through the air as the rest of the iwi hurried back. Suddenly, the war drums burst into a rapid rhythm, sending the warriors into a fury. At her command, they leapt and cried, calling for death and life in equal measure. With each step, with each cry, with each slash through the air, Talia let the ancient dance lend her strength and fury. All the previous trepidation and worry fled, to be replaced with the strength of all the warriors that had performed this dance. Her people before her added to her cries, fueling the fire that burned inside every single warrior behind her. They could feel their people, rooting for them and lending their strength. At last, her voice hoarse, her legs trembling, she bent on one knee, thrusting her spear before her.

“Kikiki! Kakaka!” Her voice rang in the still of the night, the war drums finally falling silent. She rose as her uncle made his way towards her, the warriors silent at her back. He placed his hands on her arms as he pressed his nose against hers before turning to face the gathered group.

“My people! Here stand our warriors, the best of the best. Each hapu has given to this cause their pride and their future. I know many among us were wary of the quest, unwilling to lend more Nantegan souls to the Alovian cause. But the threat of war stirs between the hearts of our allies and their enemy. And all too soon the Alovians may call upon us. But my people, these brave warriors have taken up the challenge. When they succeed in their mission, we shall remain at peace. Free to tend to our farms, our families, our hapūs. And as a bonus, none of you— save my poor hapu— should have to see me beyond our gatherings every 5 years.” A rippling of laughter made its way across the people, with a few from Talia’s hapu groaning in fake despair. “So let us unite now, as we send the blessings of the Mother with our warriors.” Starting the chant, the Chief stepped aside, returning the attention of the people towards the assembled warriors.

^{*tribes/towns comprised of multiple families (sub-tribe)
*confederation of tribes that can act similar to a nation, in this case Nantego
*Ka Mate- A haka, or war dance.}

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The Ballroom

The rich scent of the frangipani that adorned her outfit and laced through her hair comforted Talia as she entered the Thelian ball. Reminding her of home, it offered a little comfort as she entered unfamiliar land. As she had been warned, the sight of the Nantego delegation had shocked and alarmed the gathered Thelian nobility. The sight of their bared golden skin more than was allowed in high society, and inked tattoos clearly distinguished them from the rest of the satin and silk adorned men and women. Masking her unease Talia confidently strode towards the Thelian king. Despite the reason behind their presence, and their status as guests of honour, Talia observed the guards surrounding the Thelian king grow tense, their hands subtly moving towards their empty sheaths before encountering air, instead of the hilt of their swords. Inwardly she breathed a sigh of annoyance as she had simply planned on extending a quick greeting before moving towards the appetising tables of food. However, she felt the eyes, ears and mouths of her fellow guests following the small procession of Nantegans. Wishing desperately that her uncle was here for his ease in awkward social situations she bowed her head slightly before the king, who had straightened in interest.

“King Charles. We thank you for your invitation and kind hospitality before our journey. We promise to do what we can to return the Queen to you.” She stopped with a smile, unsure of what else was required. The Nantegan people were unused to the rigid structure of Thelian and Alovian high society and found the duplicitous nature of their courts jarring and inhospitable. And so, she spoke only of what she meant, in the Nantegan way. No mention of honour, duty or a love for the Queen. The Nantegan delegation was here to stop a war from brewing, and hopefully, to save the lives of their people who would be called upon to join Alovia. But Talia was at least cognizant of the fact that that particular reasoning would not translate well to the others. The King nodded at her, thanking her and inviting them to partake in the party. Taking that as a sign of dismissal, Talia once more inclined her head before she led her party away from the King.

After instructing her party to refrain from causing any problems, she allowed them to mingle and join the rest of the party. For Talia herself, she made her way to a relatively uncrowded section of the food table. Smiling slightly at anyone who caught her eye, she quickly turned her attention to the food. Pretending to be completely engrossed in the options before her, she mentally lamented her position once more. Rifling through the options before her she remembered her last morning at home. She has said goodbye to her family, for possibly the last time. The image of her mother, uncle, aunt and cousins standing in the threshold of their house saying their goodbyes was forever seared into her brain. She wasn’t naive enough to believe with absolute certainty that she, or the people under her charge, would make it back alive.

And so she’d spent the last few hours at home soaking in and committing to memory every moment of her life. Playing with her cousins, learning from her aunt, shadowing her uncle, talking with her mother, training with the warriors, and hunting with her friends. Twenty-six years of memories were held in that place, and she feared never returning. Her hand quickly soothed the surface of her necklace before letting go. Symbolising safe passage, prosperity and luck, she allowed herself to take heart in her gift and rid herself of the doubts that had been periodically plaguing her. She was the Kaieke of the Tohorā, or the Rider of the Whale. And she would guide her people safely home.

The Ballroom

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Some arrived to King Charles’s Castle upon a gilded carriage. Others rode in upon great stallions. Nariman, for lack of better options, plodded along to the stables with a mule in tow. The beast of burden had been a gift from the mayor of a nameless village after the Baldori mercenary had returned his daughter to him, unspoiled yet by the bandits that had rode off with her to begin with. Rinshi was the finest of the herd, with a shiny coat and a strong back, but that had been ten years ago, and now, she was a more weathered beast, with a slower gait and a duller coat. Doubtlessly, the stable boy had been confused as to where such an inglorious steed should even be kept, but Nariman set the child straight easily enough. What noble knight would even deign to notice the old mule stabled beside his pure white thoroughbred, after all? Probably too busy polishing his sword to see anything beyond what’s right in front of his nose. Rinshi got stabled with the rest of those big, brilliant chargers. Hoped she enjoyed the company.

Nariman, on the other hand, already had decided in his mind that he didn’t like any of this. It was his first exposure to high society, and two seconds into the ballroom, he wanted to take a bottle of wine and smash it over the head of one of those fat, glibbering noblemen who were guzzling down decadence like it was water. With six different musical cultures present, of course all they played were the bland, unintrusive harmonies of the Kingdom, and the food was all distinctly Thelian: meats and pastries roasted and baked without any grace, originality, or season. What really got him, though, was how restrained and boring everything was. Only a couple individuals feasted with gusto, and there was certainly no groups of people breaking into spontaneous dance. Anyone who approached the Thelian King, irreverently indolent upon his lonely throne, walked as if upon caltrops, while small parties toasted with fragile cups. Around the room, graybeards delivered tales of past valour in the most self-indulgent manner possible, while their listeners smiled and nodded, every word melting away like snow in their minds.

Like everything else portrayed in the ballads of brave heroes and valorous kings, the reality of a royal feast was far removed from the fiction of it.

If there was something to be glad for, it would be that in the wake of the Nantego procession, the guards around King Charles were far less concerned about Nariman’s approach. He may have been wearing chainmail and dirt may have still been crusted in the creases of his boots, but at least he wasn’t exposing the skin of his upper limbs to them. The mercenary bowed once, right arm sweeping up to rest over his heart. “Nariman, mercenary descended from the Baldori people,” he began, a practiced smile slipping on his features. “I do pray you’ll host a merrier feast when I return with your Queen, Your Majesty.” One of the men bristled at the audacity of his words, but nothing else came of it. What was a mercenary without some insolence? Nariman turned and strode off upon the King’s grunt of a dismissal, and, after a brief pause to sip some wine and rein in his less pleasant desires, slipped off towards the banquet table.

One part of him wanted to eat. Another part of him wanted to drink. More parts wanted to leave. But he ignored all those parts of him and began to socialize instead. With a glass of wine in hand, Nariman glided in and out of conversations, promoting himself to the wealthy and well-bred. He toasted with the Thelians, chugged with the Vikings, philosophized with the Alovians, compared faiths with the Nantego, and strode through the ballroom as the good-hearted but crude mercenary he was.

And in the merriment of his step, the rowdiness of his laugh, no one noticed that silverware occasionally disappeared when he gestured with his free hand, that the sweetmeats he tossed into his mouth didn’t always find its way to his stomach. Nariman hated the party, but that didn’t mean he’d pass up on an opportunity to squirrel away something special for his blood-bonds.

If he wasn’t going to make it back, at least his mother and sister would have something nice to dine with.

The Ballroom

---

Hatzur did her best to retain her composure event thought she felt a strong mix of frustration and fascination. She had planned to come to Thelan much sooner, however, what she did not expect, was how hard it was to find a ship crew which accepted a witch as a passager even if said witch was willing to pay more than five times the average passage. If people were going to be so unreasonable they could at least accept bribes as well. The only willing crew would only go a week later, ruining her wish to arrive early and get to visit more of Thelan, a land she held so much admiration for.

Of course, once in Thelan itself, she was too busy observing everything, how the docks seemed to have far more cranes and other equipment, how the docks were controlled by many officials and there were things such as paperwork and standardized scales to keep things in check. The merchant ports of Alovia seemed to copycat places such as this but it was clear they lacked much of the practical knowledge.

She was advised by her contractor to hire a carriage to the palace to avoid walking in the streets and that is what she did, thankfully it was easier to get one than a ship. As she moved towards her destiny, she couldn't help but notice the local architecture, making many notes in her mind, being curious about each sight, be it a simple house or one of the manors. Of course, once near the palace, she wouldn't have eyes for anything else.

She was wearing her best, most pristine clothing for the situation, only being a bit reserved when it came to using gemstones, which sometimes were used for spellcasting and would only induce more suspicion of her presence there, so she went with simple silver or steel accessories. For a woman who still longed for the high life she had when she was a child, entering the palace felt like being at home, nevermind the guards taking a long while checking her to see if she had no hidden blade, clearly more than other guests, or the stares.

Once in the ballroom, her eyes quickly darted about, taking the sight and trying to recognize who was there. She knew if the organizers of the expedition were inclined to bring even an Alovian Witch she would see many different sights there, perhaps even another witch, but she doubted as it took Hatzur some effort to get contacted by them, she had to track the people involved, hire many drunkards and other sorts to talk highly of her near them and basically do it for nothing but an IOU, which she hoped would be enough to allow her to buy land in Thelan once the situation was over and the risk of war was no longer an issue.

Her assumptions were quickly proven correct when she noticed the Nantegan procession, but the sight that would be truly surprising to her was not an unusual looking one, on the contrary, it fitted the court perfectly. Niavak of house Wymark. The vision felt like an omen, not because of Niavak himself, but because of the context where the two last met. Before the queen, the last time Hatzur had even done a mission like this was when she was hired to save a noble from bandits, that was where she met Niavak, and that night ended with her being stabbed, carried off by him to be treated by a medic. It was not the type of memory she wanted to remember when going on this mission, even if she no longer was that young witch who made herself so vulnerable by chanting spells in the open. Feeling a bit unwell, she sat on the nearest chair she could find, desiring to take a moment to regain her composure.

The Ballroom

---

A few others had joined the conversation at this point, the radius of discourse growing. Dietrich had spotted a lull in the conversation as Sabrina and another woman began to get to chatting. Elly was listening when Dietrich approached. She raised her eyebrows and turned around, resting her elbow on the back of her seat. Someone speaking to her in her mother tongue had not been something she had particularly expected. Though anyone could tell just from looking at her that she came from that favorite Isle to the north.

Gingerly picking up a glass of wine she daintily sipped it and placed it back down. Elly returned her answer in Moorish. "Yeah, I've got some Mjod back on my horse. But perhaps consider that I'd like to be sober though, hmm? As much as my brothers-in-arms would most likely tell you otherwise, blackout drunk is not the default state of Moorish existence." She said humurously. Her Moorish, of course, was smooth, natural and sophisticated. It was, after all, her first language. Back in the day Alice and Elly had helped each other learn their respective mother tongues merely by being around each other, and learning the common tongue of the southern kingdoms was a necessary part of her education as a warrior. After all, a language barrier is more resilient than any wall or fortress. Especially to a viking, who ate fortified locations for breakfast.

"Name's Elly," The moorish woman introduced herself, unaware that her name had already been pegged. The man who had inquired about the Mjod was a finely dressed Thelannian nobleman who seemed just shy of middle age. Handsome and apparently intelligent since he knew at least a little about fine Moorish alcohol, he had given Elly a good first impression. Still, if he was a knowledgable about viking ways as he seemed, he would know that Moorish people rarely kept conversations at the level of a whisper. Elly was no different, though her tone was friendly and inviting as opposed to boistrous or challenging. Switching back to the common southern tongue, Elly spoke up loud enough for the others at the table to hear their conversation. She had no interest in secret conversations even though his intentions seemed innocuous enough. After all, these nobles were here to support the 'heroes', stuffy as they were. It would be rude to leave them out.

"You comin' with us on our little trip? Or are you here to meet the heroes?" Something about this man indicated that he could handle himself in a fight. Having grown up around people itching for a fight, Elly figured she could spot a warrior amongst a crowd. Could be wrong though. Her question about heroes was lightly dipped in sarcasm. Subtle enough to be missed by those who took themselves and this event a little too seriously but the humor in her voice could be picked up on by those who were 'in on it'. 'It' being that heroics were rarely as spick and span as the stories and songs often recounted them. It was a prodding question for Elly to pick up on what kind of person the man she was talking to was.

Thelan Capitol

---

The man found Ellinor's retort very characteristic of Moore's progeny, giving chuckling softly as she said it. "Perhaps, perhaps, my apologies for the stereotype. But I may tell you that amongst more experienced fellows as me that is indeed the default state." he said, pulling up a chair having taken Elly's joviality as invitation to join her. "Its a feast, and probably the last one for a while, I reckon it's a good enough excuse to drink oneself silly." Dietrich continued.

Mirroring what his counterpart had done a few moments ago Dietrich took a swig of a wine, swallowing it like water before getting some more. "Mmmmm. Good name. I am Sir Dietrich Lotheringai, but I don't think anything more than just 'Dieter' is necessary." After offering a hand to shake he didn't really look up much from his eating and drinking, careful use of a knife and fork belying the fact "devouring" or "gorging" were the best words to describe what he was doing. He had already sized up the viking on his approach to her, and the conclusions were rather obvious. Young talent taken to this quest, the longboat folk of the North being an obvious place to look for warriors. Of course the Witch Hunter's summation of both the youth and inexperience of the other heroes seemed to more and more be confirmed. If she had some years and real wars on hand she'd most certainly have brought out the Mjod and been stuffing her face silly. For such a long journey one had to eat up such that bodily movements would feel impossible afterwards. It was at this point he looked up and noticed the entry and presence of more Alovians along with their vile allies. Feed it its own eyes a thought came, but he showed none of it.

An eyebrow was raised at the question he got as well as it was phrased, but after a moment of thought Dieter believed he had a good grasp on the woman's reasoning and agreed. Swallowing a chunk of meat, the "Knight" (now in the common tongue) replied with his own playful question: "What do you think?" With that said, he wasted no time in drinking some more. He was about to skewer some more meat, before noting the entry of something far more abhorrent than some forest savage. Witch-breed, evil; strangle it with its own intestines. His fork struck his plate and the china object shattered to a slight frown from Wolfgang. "Oh my, how fragile these things." he said, with a mastered tone masking his distraction and switching the topic at the same time. "Not like the steel business you get used to out in the front. Anyways, I am a Knight of Thelan and am proud to announce that I am to join the journey. I am glad I am to go with such stalwart comrades." the man stated this regardless of what Elinor guessed, adjusting his chaperon headdress a little more with the aim of feeling the comforting presence of its hidden blades.

Ballroom

---

Dark whiskey eyes gazed out past the garden below to the horizon, a swirl of various vivid colors painting the sky as the last of the sun's warm rays cascaded down upon the feastivities. The crisp autumn air would continue to chill as the sun took its descent which would soon lead to a blanket of night dappled with twinkling stars but for now, it was a dazzling sight to behold. It was at least a more pleasant form of entertainment than the travesty being held mere feet away. Don’t misunderstand, the party was beautiful by most standards, with all the finery and finesse befitting of a King’s celebration to welcome a safe journey for the group willing to find his Queen but the music while pleasant to the ear gave no urge to dance, the lack of trust in regards of weapons was appalling as well as proved how on edge the peace currently held was, the fake pleasantries of some guests were unbearable to be around, and that leads to the biggest problem of all ...this fabricated illusion that everyone was forced to uphold. It was clear some of them were like wolves trying to prance around in sheep’s wool and call themselves what they were clearly not. Not that she had room to talk about such a subject since it would be a bit hypocritical on many levels but still, it has driven her to be out here nonetheless. She couldn’t stand the weary looks from those nervous of different cultures, the sneers of distaste that some tried to keep hidden, or pitied glances of those thinking that she may not make it back alive. It made her frown just thinking about when she first arrived in the ballroom.



A gentle breeze ruffled short chocolate brown hair causing slender fingers to reach up and rake through the tresses in the impossible task to make it presentable again. It practically always appeared to be a mess and sort of wild, wanting to do as it pleased even when she begged it to do something else. It always made Aruna wonder what her hair would be like if it were long. It was something she had always wanted to have but was far too nervous to make a reality when she had a facade to keep up. A woman may have stood before the castle, but what everyone else saw and knew was a man that was lingering before entering the party. One that appeared to be currently admiring the structure which indeed she was, the design so much different than the one she had spent a great deal of time around.

She decided to move onward, each step forward a slow and relaxed pace as Aruna was not in any sort of rush. The feast would still be waiting when she arrived and it wasn’t every day that you could grace halls of a different lands royal home, allies or not. She could take time to appreciate the view and the sentiment the King was trying to give with the party. Honestly, she didn’t know how he was able to handle it. If it were her loved one, she would want to the search to start as soon as possible or even join but it wouldn’t make sense for him to go. The kingdom would need his strength and guidance during these trying times. It had to be extremely difficult, greeting everyone and trying to celebrate while dealing with all the emotion he should feel.

A hand suddenly clamped down on her shoulder left shoulder, causing her to instinctively use her right hand to place a hold over theirs. The grip was to hard to just push away so she bent her left elbow up, swooping it backwards as she turned and capturing the person's arm to force them downward in a hold she could control and attack with her knee to their face if needed. This unfortunately caused a group of weapons to be pointed in her direction, a poor guard being held in her grasp and at her whim. Aruna immediately released him, placing her hands slightly up so they could see she meant no harm.”I apologize, you startled me as I was letting my mind wonder.” she stated, now noticing she was at the small checkpoint where weapons were being obtained before entrance to the ballroom. She must have been accidentally wandering through without noticing and sadly, they were probably attempting to get her attention.

“Sir, there are no weapons beyond this point.” one of the guards stated, eyeing her warily as if she might object and cause a fight at any moment. ”Of course. If you could move your weapons away from my person, I would be happy to oblige to your request.”, Aruna answered calmly, not trusting that someone wouldn’t get jumpy if she went for her weapon while being held in place. She could easily take on the group but that would not be a good reflection of her or her people. She watched as they all exchanged glances with one another, slowly withdrawing the tips of their weapons. Once they had pulled them a reasonable distance away, she pulled the sword from her side as well as a multitude of daggers and other small weapons. In turn, the guards that were giving her their undivided attention were looking more disturbed by the second with the placement of each weapon from her person.

With the last item being handed over, she waited patiently and not moving an inch so they could tell she was finished. They waved her through which she was glad to move forward, others already looking at her strangely for causing such a commotion. It wasn’t like the weapons check was even necessary since if any of them wanted someone dead then a weapon could easily be found or made if creative enough. Honestly, she had a scarf that was draped on her arms that could easily choke someone and their was bound to be silverware and glass in the ballroom. Who did they think they were fooling? It was possible that was why there were so many guards though.

Stepping into the ballroom, she was greeted with a glittering assemblage, the dancing in full swing, the tables packed almost to the gills and a line to pay their respects to the king. She felt no need to be a part of that, the man probably suffering through enough of the same speeches and there were more important people than her that needed an audience. Instead, she made her way to the buffet table and filled her plate before making her way to the wine. Aruna went to grab the pitcher but another hand grasped at the same time. “I’m terribly sorry!” a squeaky voice rang out, a middle age woman looking at her and eyes sizing her up. ”No apologies needed. Please, ladies first.” she said, withdrawing and trying to play a gentleman. If she had known the woman better, she might have just poured the glass for her. “Thank you. It’s surprising to see such a well mannered individual here, let alone a Baldori one. It appears there are many rabble and simpletons around.” she stated in a snobbish manner.

It instantly rubbed her the wrong way and she hoped that after the woman got what she needed, then she would just be on her way. It seemed that would not be the case though since as Aruna was pouring her own drink, the other woman spoke up once more. “What is it exactly that you do? It must be very important to be welcomed at such an event I would think. Aren’t most of you out in the field or in…other occupations.” a polite tone and sneering smile on her face. It was then that she realized, the woman had assumed she was female and probably not knowing and possibly not caring that she was in male attire. It was also extremely clear what she was severely implying with that observation and statement. It frustrated and annoyed her on so many levels that she had to bite the inside of her cheek for a moment. ”That is such an intriguing question! I suppose you could say that I was only invited to this event because of my skills.”, Aruna answered with a dazzling fake smile. “Oh? Good for you to be woman enough to be proud and embrace who you are.” A smirk playing on her features.

”Yes, I am quite proud to fight with the precision of an assassin and running enemies through with my blade or taking them down with my bare hands when necessary. It does seem to be a needed skill for a man such as myself. It was an honor to volunteer for this journey to assist the King in any way possible. Now if you excuse me, I believe I have lost my appetite since there seems to be something fowl over here and I grow tired of it., Aruna said, each word more frigid than the last as it lost its pleasant tone by the end completely. The plate of food abandoned but the goblet of wine easily making its way with her as she weaved her way through the crowd and made her way outside. She could only hope she thoroughly embarrassed or upset the woman.



Aruna sighed, leaning herself back slightly on the stone railing she sat upon and glanced over her shoulder to scan the crowd. It was nice that a few more had arrived that seemed more out of place, trying to be polite by dressing up for the occasion but more by their own standards than trying to completely fit in. It was what she had been what she was going for with her own outfit but she would much rather been in battle attire while appearing for the event. The simple thought of the outfit she wore had her digging at her collar once again to pull it away from her neck. The embroidered collar while beautiful to the eye was stiff, itchy, and unpleasant. She already had to readjust so she wasn’t sitting on the cream fabric and not ruining it for any future use though just lighting the clothing or at least the top half on fire seemed like a much better experience in her book then ever having to wear this again.

In her opinion, it would have been a fantastic evening to just see everyone as they were with no masks. It was the main reason she wasn’t keen on seeking out those she would be journeying with. She didn’t really want to base her opinions on the polite versions of themselves when they might be forced to behave or maybe depending on what was said, that she was forced to behave because on the road ...that would not be the case. Aruna didn’t take shit from people, there were very few people she would curb her tongue around and even then, she was sure they had seen or heard of it at some point. It was possible that there were some good ones in the bunch of people and she wasn’t giving them much of a chance. She should at least give it another try. Aruna gently shook her head softly, looking away from the party once more and picking up the glass next to her take a large gulp of wine. She was gonna need all the help she could get before having to re-enter the party. For now, she would enjoy the setting sun and the moment the rays were lost, that was when she would make her way inside.

The Ballroom

---

"Wymark, Niavak Wymark." Niavak pronounced, giving her a smile. Though he disliked it, he knew his way around political scenarios. It was a necessity after all, as wholly dismissing politics is career suicide. Still, he tried to keep doing so at a minimum. This ballroom dinner was definitely one mired in politics.

Following around the would-be leader of the band was his initial plan. Gauging her competence and leadership abilities would give insight on whether the mission was doomed to fail or if she could pull off a miracle. Niavak's ears pricked at the familiar sound of an arrow cutting through the air. His hand unconsciously hovered above where his sword would've been holstered. The arrow pierced the king of Thelan, blood now seeping into his once immaculate garments. Crap. He thought, were the Alovians going to be blamed for this? A man he recognized, Commander Mathieu Bastian, revealed himself.

"A coup, huh?" He said, watching Mathieu's men fill into the room. They were garbed in ornate armour, seeming to glimmer against the dimly lit ballroom. "Thelannians, always the ostentatious bunch."

Being part of Alovia, Niavak didn't really care much for his grand speech. He found it slightly humorous that regicide was how they played their hand. It was an extremist action and now they face the danger of a civil war, those loyal to the crown and those not. Fighting a civil war and another kingdom simultaneously is strategical suicide. Though it was equally likely that they would pin the blame on an Alovian, which would be the smartest play. It would rally support from both sides. Still, it was foolish of them to not finish the job, there were nobles that observed the whole debacle.

"I believe you're right, Lady Alice." Niavak said, accepting the sword. The sword had great balance, heft and weight. It was an exceptional broadsword. The air of the ballroom changed from politics to that of war. He took a deep breath as he heard the ever-familiar sounds of steel clashing with steel. Brandishing the sword, he ran into the fray.

The Ballroom

---

Elly had nodded, smiling. "Well, such stahlwert comrades are good to have you. Whatever that means." Elly said with a good natured chuckle, taking a sip of wine. She blinked at him breaking the 'fragile' cup. Took a lot of effort to do that. A nervous twitch perhaps? It certainly was an interesting little tick. Unless this was the only time it had happened, or maybe it was just a faulty cup. Either way it soon passed from the light blonde's mind. "It is good to meet you, Dieter. I-" the words were plucked from her mouth just as the life of the King of Thelan was plucked from his body.

The piece of meet feel from her fingers and rolled onto the floor. What was this? Everyone stood in shocked silence as some fucking traitor strolled into the room like he owned the place. But the viking woman was outraged. The Pendletons were white with shock and they vanished from Elly's life, fading into the background. After the man finished his spiel, Elly grabbed a nearby wine bottle, flipped it upside down, and smashed it, glaring at him with furious eyes. She seemed intent on slicing the throat of every traitor in the room herself. He would dare do this? As if it was his place to decide? She had no love for the the Thelannian king but this was an attack on everything Elly stood for. The fury was almost too much to bear, her hands were shaking and tears sprung to her eyes. There would be war. Thousands would die and more over she felt like her outrage was only being met with cowardice and indifference from those in the room. "You...!" She croaked angrily. She didn't even have her weapons!

But her anger was to assuaded and replaced with determination. One of Alice's men- loyal to the cause, handed Elly her wooden shield and heavy hand axe. She nodded grimly and then turned to look at Dieter. Words escaped her and she looked away, giving a glare of death to the nearest one of the rebels. Joining the others in the fray, Elly roared and lunged into battle, aiming to bury her handaxe in the neck of the nearest enemy with tremendous force.

Thelan Capitol

---

Dietrich gave a good-natured laugh as Elly seemed to not quite understand what "stalwart" meant. Of course her vocabulary didn't really have a need for such a word, and hence he shouldn't have expected her to have it learned. Still, it did give the "Knight" the thought that he needed to better consider those he was with. Ellinore was just framing a reply to him as an arrow flew, and the entire world collapsed. The King was dead, and it seemed a coup of sorts was underway. Oh dear, now that wouldn't do, that wouldn't do at all. While Dietrich did sympathize with Mathieu's intentions he had gone about performing them the wrong way and in turn if he wanted the Witch Hunter's support then he had to show that he was competent. Thus, Dietrich reacted rather calmly to the shooting, instead simply taking a sip from a wine glass renewed by a servant. "Please, do continue." he said to the Viking woman, although as certain people went about distributing weapons it seemed the conversation would not get a chance to finish.

Dietrich sighed, testing the balance of the broadsword. It was a silly weapon men who needed something to compensate for certain other deficiencies carried; in a duel a trusty duelling blade and dagger was better, in the battlefield a polearm, this was just a fancy toy. Still, flipping it over at least he could make a beautiful brain-spilling bludgeon out of it. The weapons provided did also give Wolf a simultaneous feeling of smugness and disappointment that his thesis on the inexperience of this rather young cohort of so called "heroes" was proving to be more and more right. These weapons were what the fairy tales and plays showed warriors as carrying, because they looked heroic. But these weren't real weapons, not to a veteran of the true war long ago in spite of the gusto the others seemed to use theirs with. For now, Wolfgang didn't go to fight. "Dietrich" ran forth swinging his blade, but he didn't hit anyone and instead vanished from the scene. Crawling under some tables he snatched a bottle of champagne that on the move he downed as if it were a simple waterskin. Navigating this small underworld would have been a feat and a half for most people, but with an expert photographic memory aided by the method de loci it was rather easy to get to the Throne unseen. At last he stood before the man, but before doing his work Wolfgang stopped, and bowed while uttering a small prayer. He then closed the King's eyes and took his crown off of his head, hiding it about his person lest it fall into the wrong hands. Even in this, Dietrich was in the most visible part of the room but made sure he was naught more than a shadow, or at the very least a fleeting vision one could easily chalk up to bad wine. Crown secured, and sword tied around his waist Wolfgang removed two of his hidden blades much preferring them to the bombastic broadsword and once more slunk off into the shadows to watch the scene unfold. Only occasionally he intervened helping poor old Mathias flee the scene, or making wide swings of his broadsword in plain sight so that nobody could testify he hadn't helped in the battle. But ultimately he only observed, making sure he always had a strategy of exit at all times and that at least nobody laid blades on the truly innocent like the different servants. There were many opportunities to from behind appear, disembowel the Alovians and once more disappear with little blood on him to show for it. Yet, he didn't take them — for now the event had to play naturally in the eyes of the Hunter.

The Ball

---

Talia gave another smile, resembling a grimace more than anything, before she unsubtly extricated herself from the clutches of the Thelian nobles who surrounded her. After she had created a towering pile of rich, foreign food on her plate, she retreated to a small table caged by empty seats. Appearing absorbed in her dinner, she took that time to assess the people in the room, easily identifying the warriors from the nobles. Her six fellow Nantegans were clearly distinguishable from the rest, with their bare skin and colorful festive dress. But saddled with the responsibility of leadership, and with a contingent of all-male and mostly unfamiliar warriors— with the unfortunate exception of Tama— Talia felt a great divide between herself and the rest of the Nantegan warriors. And she was sure Tama, one of the boys in her village who, to this day, disliked her growing role in the warrior class, would do his utmost best to further widen that divide.

Taking advantage of her momentary lapse in concentration, a pack of nobles descended on her, darting questions at her in an unsteady rhythm. Feeling very much like prey, and her attackers the predators, she tried to answer the increasingly catty and snide comments as diplomatically as possible. However, her patience soon ran out, quickly replaced by mounting disgust. Unlike the twisted Thelian and Alovians, lies did that lend themselves well to the tongues of Nantegans. Within her society, words meant what they said. They weren’t layered with fake compliments and hidden meaning. Unable to take it anymore, she abandoned her food and stood up, a quick excuse falling from her lips as she scanned the room for the escape route she had noted earlier. A skilled strategist, and an awkward guest at these foreign parties, she had already noted the pair of doors that appeared to lead to a balcony that currently was not teeming with people. Although she wasn’t sure if there would be anyone there, now that she was standing, she had to make a decision fast. Darting towards those double doors, she burst through them.

Although more polluted than her home, at least here the sight of the distant trees and the twinkling stars, the same ones that shone over her family that night, washed away the last of her disgust. Her attention shifted, after the fraction of a second it had taken her to look at the night sky, towards the lone figure standing at the balcony.

“Oh sorry! I hope I’m not disturbing you. ” She smiled a bit uncomfortable, as she took the measure of the person in front of her. She hadn’t really planned, nor wanted much company. Her companion, with an androgynous figure, seemed from the back as either male or female. The only thing Talia was certain was that they were from the Baldori tribe, distinguishable through the particular style of dress.

Aruna leaned against the balcony’s stone railing instead of sitting upon it as she had been earlier, taking a moment to mentally prepare for her return to the party. In all honesty, she would have preferred to stay out here for the rest of the evening but instead, here she was, trying to convince herself to at least give the festivities another try since there could be decent company somewhere. It was simply a matter of finding the few in the sea of unpleasant people. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the double doors behind her bursting open, the music and noise louder for just a moment before the rattling of doors slamming shut reached her ears. She gripped the stem of her empty glass a bit tighter and slowly turned to take in the appearance of the other woman that had unknowingly joined her.

Her dark hair was in a spiral of curls, slightly pulled up with flower accents tucked into each side which almost created a crown effect with the dangling shells between both sides. The woman’s face held a natural beauty that didn’t need much to enhance it but the most noticeable and striking feature was the swirl of tattoos along her chin. If all of that wasn’t an indication that the woman was here on behalf of the Nantegan people then the tribal style of her dress would have been a dead give away. Aruna took notice that she was probably one of the few she had been admiring earlier for being themselves while also trying to appease the others in the ballroom.

Aruna gave a small bow of her head to show respect and gave a light smile,”Not at all, I was simply taking a moment to enjoy the view.” she answered, deciding it was better not to add in the reason for enjoying view was to avoid everyone else. It would not make the young woman feel better about being on the balcony too and Aruna didn’t want to hurt the woman’s feelings. ”Would you care to join me? Or would you rather be left to your own devices?” she asked politely, ready to remove herself if needed.

For a moment, the music of the party grew louder again, and then subsided with a faint click to reveal a quiet, satisfied chuckling as the door out to the balcony closed. A man wearing a Thelannian Captain’s dress uniform, with a five o’clock shadow and a broad, stupid grin on his face was looking down at a very large, very full glass of wine in each hand. He was like a cat who’d just got the cream. Then, he looked up, and his face fell. His mouth opened as if to speak, he looked back over his shoulder for a moment like he could still escape, but decided against it and turned back to them, and then - sheepishly - he smiled.

“Erm. Sorry. These aren’t both for me.” Edgar said, a little too specific a denial to be true. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here. Not that I mind, of course, you both seem…” his speech wandered off for a moment as he took a better look at the pair of them, and his smile became more genuine, “well, you both seem perfectly charming. If you don’t mind the company yourselves, of course.” Edgar finished, taking a sip of the chill, sweet, white wine in the left glass.

Her attention turned away from the woman before her to the man that had decided to join them on the balcony. The large goofy grin of satisfaction on his ruggedly handsome face almost made her want to smile in return. Instead, her gaze locked on the two large glasses of wine in each of his hands and inwardly cursed herself. Why in the heavens had she not thought of that!?! Oh right, she had been dealing with that unpleasant woman. It just made her more frustrated with the situation that had befallen her earlier. She didn’t have to wait long for that frustration to fall away though and she actually had to place a hand on her lips not to laugh. The second his gaze landed on the two of them, his expression was simply priceless. It seems he had thought he was alone or was hoping for such.

Aruna felt her lips curve into a small smile as she watched him glance over his shoulder for a moment. It made her curious if he planned to flee from them but when he turned to focus on them once more with a sheepish smile instead of the full blown one as earlier, she figured he had made a choice. It was his first statement that had her raising a brow, it had come to quick which meant that it was most likely the exact opposite. Not that she would ever blame him, it was pretty genius if she said so herself. It was the genuine smile and smooth flattery that made her oh so tempted to tease him a bit and if her plan worked then how was she supposed to resist. ”I wouldn’t mind pleasant company such as you. I have to say though, if one of those glasses really isn’t for yourself and hasn’t been claimed by another, I would be happy to take the other off of your hands.”

Edgar’s grin widened, in that stiff, frustrated, adorable sort of way that a smile might tighten when someone realised they’ve been caught doing something they ought not to have been. For another moment, he looked back at the party - less like he was considering an option and more like faux regret - before slowly striding into the conversation proper.

Internally; Fuck. My wine.

”Of course, my good,” there was a slight pause and a faint wrinkle crossing Edgar brow as he tried to find some confidence in ascertaining his new drinking partner’s sex, and completely failed to, “sir.” He finished with no more than half a second’s delay. Baldori women usually wore less. He pressed the glass deftly into his- her? His? - hand, their calloused skin meeting for a brief moment. Whoever he was, he had delicate hands, even if his skin was rough.

”Please forgive my manners, my name is Edgar.” The smile relaxed again, no more obvious than a microexpression but a world of difference to the landscape of his face.

Talia pre-emptively raised her arms as she noticed the man in front of her shift to leave. “Oh no no no! You don’t have to leave. If anything I can go if you want some peace. But otherwise, I’d love to join you!” After taking stock of the clothing she realised that the person she was talking to was, in fact, a man, despite his feminine features. While none of the Nantegan men had this build, she had seen some Alovian men resemble him in build and stature. She made her way towards the balcony, and pressed her palms towards the balcony rail as she took in the view. Just as she angled her head towards her companion, prepared to try her best at small talk the doors banged open again.

Silhouetted against the light from the ball was a tall, well-built man dressed in what, Talia guessed, was a uniform of some kind. It differed from what she’d seen Alovian uniforms while pointed at the fact that he was probably Thelian. He was clutching two glasses of wine and looking, for all intents, like he was running away from the ball. Talia suppressed a smirk. The three of them were warriors, uncomfortable and unused to the gilded life at court. And she was sure that the two people in her company were volunteers for the quest as well. “By all means, join us. We are all escaping from the party I presume.” She watched the Thelian relinquish his wine glass to the Baldori with a slight sense of mourning, although he cheerfully bounced back into the conversation. “Pleased to meet you Edgar. I’m Talia. Are you joining the Royal Plea as well?”

The man’s reaction to her teasing almost made her feel a bit guilty, almost. She couldn’t feel completely horrible about it since there was that glimmer of hope if he agreed to the offer. In all honesty, she was actually doubtful it would work but a woman could dream at least. It was that thought process that had her pleasantly surprised when the words ‘of course’ left his lips and from there, admittedly, she hadn’t been paying much attention to the rest of his words. She usually might have smirked or been amused by the hesitation at trying to be polite about her ‘gender’ but that was all lost. Instead, her features lit up into a dazzling smile and her eyes glittered with happiness as she looked to the deliciously beautiful wine being offered.

The feel of large calloused hands against her own brought her focus back to the man before her, a fleeting thought of how dainty and delicate her hand felt against his fluttered mind before smiled warmly at him. She appreciated the fact he had relinquished such a treasure even when he had been regretful to do so. He could have easily refused and that said a lot about his character in her eyes. “Thank you.”, she said softly, taking a sip and humming in delight at the sweet taste. She listened to both of her new companions introduce themselves as she drank. She was not one to be rude, so she decided to introduce herself before they dug into the discussion of the journey they all may be taking together. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. My name is Arun.”

Edgar smiled at them both, a warm kind of smile, coloured a little - no doubt - by the wine he had already drank.

”Talia, one of the Nantego if I’m not incorrect? It is a profound honour to finally meet a representative of your people in person, and an even greater pleasure that it should be you in particular.” Edgar said, his voice smooth and low, like whisky and smoke. “I will be joining the Plea, yes. I must say, the company is turning out better than expected.” He grinned, turning to look between Arun and Talia.

”Ah, so that’s where I know you from. Arun, the Blade Dancer. I’ve heard a great many stories, sir.” Edgar’s grin became lascivious.

”It is almost difficult to imagine that you could be so dominant a force on the field, with hands so delicate and gentle. It’s a good thing I have heard stories, or I might have required a demonstration of your skills.”

Aruna absentmindedly dragged her finger along the rim of her glass as she drifted into thought, letting it pleasantly hum the only note it could produce until she decided to take another sip or when the rim became too dry to do so. It was nice to know that at least two of her companions on this possibly long journey were decent company and seemed to have good heads on their shoulders. She was curious to how their actions would speak for them. Personality showed a lot about a person but it was choices that ultimately gave you true insight to who they were. You can charm people with all the flattery in the world, have pretty words but at the end of the day still not be able to put actions to match. She had no doubts in their fighting skills, it would be suicide to volunteer otherwise but it would be interesting to know more about the two of them.

Her finger stilled as Edgar spoke her name, stopping the noise she had unknowingly been making and glanced over at him through hood lashes, the corner of her lip curling into a soft smirk that could almost be a tease of a smile. “Oh?” , she questioned before taking a sip and waiting to see if he would either elaborate if the the stories had been worth hearing or false as often some are. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised by receiving flirtatious flattery and by the gods if it wasn’t tempting to have some fun and dish it right back. ”Hmm, a pity that you took the stories for their word. It would have been a pleasure to demonstrate exactly how skilled my hands are, no matter how delicate and gentle they may be. Perhaps when there is a moment’s rest in our journey you might demonstrate what those hands of yours can do.” Aruna practically purred before turning her attention onto Talia.

”Hm. Delicious.” Edgar murmured in return as he took a sip of wine - ostensibly remarking on the flavour, but making direct eye contact with Arun nonetheless.

”Though I must say, I am most curious to see your fighting in action, Talia. I have never been able to meet a Nantego tribe member until now. I have heard stories of the warriors that grace your lands and I greatly admire them.”, she added gently.

She hid the smile that threatened to appear on her face through sheer force of will as she watched Edgar and Aruna flirt with each other. The Nantegans were very direct people, with very little time spent on coded flirted messages. In fact, listening to the two of them made Talia feel like she was intruding on a very private moment. After a moment, the two of them shifted their attention back onto her and she jumped in to fill the silence. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both! I’m very surprised you’ve heard of me” she exclaimed as she directed her incredulity at Edgar. Her people were notoriously quite private, rarely sharing information and stories with foreigners unprompted. [color=278723]“What type of work do you do Edgar? I can’t place the uniform. And I can’t wait to learn from you as well,” she said as she turned towards Aruna. “I’d love to exchange some fighting styles as I’ve always been curious of the Baldori. They are so graceful with their swords, a feat I have never been able to master unfortunately, ” she added ruefully as she shook her head slightly.

”My work? Well, I command a sort of-”

Just as Talia went to add more, the sounds of screams shattered the bubble the three of them had found themselves in. Instinctively, Talia went for the 2 pins placed in her hair. As she pulled them out, her hair unfurled from the large bun in the back and revealed two stiletto daggers. All of this was done in seconds as she crossed the balcony and threw open the doors to the ballroom.

The Ballroom was in utter chaos. The previously calm, uptight atmosphere was transformed as blood stained the gleaming marble floors and the nobles pushed against the walls, screams and yells crashing together. In seconds, Talia had taken stock of the room; noting the clear division between the warriors. A guard came up to her, handing her back her atlatl. Talia suppressed a laugh that bubbled in her chest, in part at that fact that she had essentially been handed a stick to defend herself with, although it was a nicely decorated stick, but also due to panic. How had she managed to wade into the middle of a civil war? She hadn’t even really wanted to go on this quest in the first place! She was just supposed to lead her people, not die on this pointless quest, come back and lead her people. Not fall in the middle of a civil war where she didn’t care what happened to either side! Well, if she was going to survive now, she might as well pick a side. And she picked the side of the guard who gave her back her atlatl because why not.

Shoving her atlatl roughly into the waistband of her skirt, she crouched down slightly as she got behind a soldier who had a decent sword. Like a viper, she thrust her dagger into his neck and grabbed his sword with her other hand. Twisting it from his grip, she pulled it out of his hands just as he slid to the ground, gurgling blood. With 3 blades, and only two hands she hastily used one of the daggers to pin a portion of her hair back from her face before she spied one of her new friends about to get a very rude surprise.

Edgar had been somewhat less subtle in his approach. He followed Talia, the hairs on the back of his neck gradually raising up like the heckles of a dog’s back, and his face gradually morphed from mild confusion to suspicion an anger - until the doors were thrown open, and it was at last confirmed.

The blood, the violence, the weapons drawn and ready, it was more than enough for Edgar - but most of all, more than anything, it was the sheer fucking treason.

”Traitors!” He roared, exploding in anger, throwing the wine out of the glass and swashing the delicate crystal on a table as he passed, leaving naught but a brutal spike of transparent razor in his hand as he shifted his grip on it and charged into the fray, seeing red.

They didn’t have time to finish their conversation, screams and cries of distress cutting them off. Aruna followed swiftly after the two, her body slipping into a defensive posture as they moved just in case they were attacked upon entrance. The sight she was greeted with didn’t please her, in fact, anger coursed through her veins at the actions taken within the ballroom. She hadn’t needed to see the events as they unfolded to understand exactly what had happened and she could only guess that the Alovians that had attended would be in trouble if not defended. Her eyes hardened, narrowing into a glare as she scanned the room as if a hawk searching for its prey while her hand slide to the dinner knife on the table beside her. She had been calculating on who would be the best one to attack and extract a sword from when movement near her side made her snap, ready to shed their blood when the sight of her own sword made her pause. She took the offering, nodding her head in thanks before dashing forward without hesitation.

She no longer needed to pick and choose her enemy which meant that the first to meet her gaze and dared to challenge her would be her target. The guard a ways before her took stance, ready for her to attack and to have the shield take the assumed oncoming blow. She didn’t let that deter her or slow her pace as she took up more speed. Instead of attacking up front, she used the polished marble to her advantage and slid at the last moment right between her opponents legs, making sure to dig her sword into their inner thigh as she went. Aruna rolled up onto her shoulder, using the momentum to spring up onto her feet and just in time to block another sword as another guard had come to defend their comrade. She went to jab at him with the dinner knife in her free hand, forcing the defending guard to jump back to avoid it. He went in for another swing of his sword which she avoid by moving into a hook kick, slamming her foot to his face and taking the disorienting moment to stab straight through his chest.

Her original target had not been forgotten though and she quickly removed herself from the corpse, moving into a back bend as she heard the heavy steps behind her. Aruna barely dodged a stab to the back by doing so but now she was in a bit of an awkward position. She was about to pull her feet off the ground as if she was going to do a handstand but with her knees so she could push her feet back as to shove her attacker away but she found that wasn’t necessary.

Talia noticed a Aruna fighting with two different soldiers, and made her way closer just as she saw two things simultaneously happen. Firstly, Aruna defeated her opponent with some of the most incredible moves Talia had ever seen, and secondly, the other soldier was attempting to literally stab her in the back. Before the soldier could make that thought a reality, Talia quickly thrust her sword through his right side. He turned shocked eyes towards her, clearly not expecting the attack. She grimaced as she pulled the sword out and turned to face Aruna as the soldier staggered back a few steps before sinking to the ground.

“Those are some killer moves, Arun. Literally.” She grinned at her new team member as, unbeknownst to her, blood dripped from the dagger pinned to her hair and onto the left side of her face.

Aruna flipped back onto her hands, a small smile on her lips. ”You haven’t seen anything yet but that aside, thank you for saving me from that sticky situation, Talia. Let’s stay close, watch each other’s backs.” she said, wiping the blood on her face but seeming to only to cause it to smear instead.

The Ballroom

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Civility had died quite suddenly and it wasn't a pretty sight. The red and noble blood of a monarch was now slowly spreading into a puddle in the floor, a coup d'état happened before her own eyes and it was an easy guess it was not one that benefited her in any way, she highly doubted an Alovian would be let out alive, much less an Alovian witch. It was a shame really, not only for her and her dreams of getting to know more about this country and for all the conspirators who found themselves facing her. Especially since the host had been so kind to give her all her spell-casting materials back.

She knew after casting her first spell she would be a priority target so why not start with one of her best and most complex tricks? She could do the cheaper attacks later, they were quick and easy and perfect for actual combat, plus starting with a bang could dissuade some of the enemies from fighting.

Typically one or two elements were manipulated, she was aiming for all of them, elemental magic was often neat and divided but in nature it was a chaotic mix of everything at once and by trying to replicate that she could access nature's full fury with a simple snap of a finger, in this case, in particular, she was messing with magnetism using the earth, the pressure of air using the power of wind and the heat of fire and finally, water, turned into ice,tiny beyond what a person could see, showing in the room as little but fog. One would assume this was much weaker than the big block of ice she could have brought about with the same effort, but that wasn't the case, the ice crystals collided at an accelerated pace creating a build up of energy, an electric charge, which guided by her elemental manipulation would soon be released into the room in a deafening, blinding lightning strike.

It went straight to one of the soldiers trying to kill them, also stunning one to his side, the target man however was a smouldering corpse in a second, still standing up for a good few more moments before falling over. It was morbid but Hatzur couldn't help but to softly smirk at the sight, a job well done was always something she appreciated. Another thing she really appreciated was being alive so the witch was quick to retreat to the back of the lines where she would prepare more spells (all far less complex than the thunder bolt) in what she hoped would be a safe position.