“'An on m'right I seek to fight the winter's blight that doth threaten our summer love.” recited Matheias in a muted sing-song as he paced the open deck of the ferry boat, fist clenching tight the pummel of his sword as he recited a poem from memory. He held a small number of attendees in rapt interest, the princes, the gray bearded Akronian captain and the assorted crewmen setting forth to the imperial capital. The humans of the boat, and there were many were largely deep at work of ferrying the boat against the river. Their bare bodies glistening in the spring sun as they sweated into the cold air at the oars. They could not give the luxury of listening to the knight, who wore his helmet visor down to avoid the scorn of the imperial hosts and their servants as a free human in Arkronian lands.

“An' from darkened forest comth the very lowest t'take from me mine love.” the knight continued. The lowered visor had a long beak shape helping to conceal not only his face but his race.

King William stood elsewhere, leaning across the side of the boat smoking his long pipe. He watched the countryside scroll slowly by them. The coming spring had lifted much of the snow from the countryside, revealing it gray and barren under naked trees beginning to bud with new life. However, the lack of any growth had not stifled the turnings of life in the country. As they rowed up the great black river leading to Arkron's cosmopolitan heart he watched the stooped form of peasants and serfs at work in the fields to prepare them for a new season of planting. Fences were being mended and black melt-full soil tilled up and turned over to aerate and lighten it before it settles into hard clay. Beyond the darkened fields rose the marble white columned palaces and estates of Arkronia's towering aristocracy, the very people an Empire's worth of tribute kept alight on the rising updrafts of centuries of unending glory. Many in those distant towering mansions might be said to be richer and more powerful than any other race's nobility across the continent. Presiding over vast teams and townships of humans and elite Arkronian alike. And while the Arkronian could travel more than easily across the entirety of the Empire often travel, even for William was miserly and seemingly rife with its own mundane complications that irritated it. Whether it was being obliged to submit to some toll master's demands on the highway or to have to face down the barely concealed superiority of his own hosts.

Yet, by centuries of history William was bound to these people and obliged to offer thanks to them. For without them, there would be no he. The binds of gratitude bound them both tightly at the hand of dynastic politics. And when all things were said and done, and once the trivialities of obliging Arkronian order and legal procedure were done there were individuals in the Empire that William found pleasant enough for him. Those willing to be interested or play at being interested. In these people he placed considerable trust; though he wondered at loyalty. And for the time being he was thankful that he and his party had such an easy time. But he attributed this to the circumstances at hand. There would be little point in directly offending the travelers to descend on the capital for the coronation, and many of Arkronia's best would be making the trip all the same.

As Matheias continued his poem, William continued to watch over the countryside with glazed meditative impassivity as he slowly smoked through his ration of herb and grass. He watched the passage of peasants and higher born Arkronians pass up and down along the river-side road. All were outpaced by the ferry which made its tiring speed against the current in order to make the time promised to them by the captain. The obsession on order did one thing a Cor Avan could appreciate, or any other raised in the Cor: the punctuality of an Arkronian promise was a gift all of it's own. But watching the shore was to watch what kept this machine all in motion, as it would if one were to watch the oarsmen at their ungrateful work sweating at the bench.

How much longer might they have to the capital? A day or two perhaps? He thought about it. He had once hiked to the capital from port. It had taken him nearly over a week and a half. But that was stoppages for the weather. It was winter then, and the snow that blew in from off the sea was enough to bury a peasant's hovel. The country nobles had been polite enough to offer him a space to shelter, where from high windows he watched the snow blow in from the sea and drift to nearly as high as the ceilings. And those same nobles not wanting to be daunted had their servants open the door and dig themselves out. As they opened the tunnels out into the snow they dug and melted out of the heavy ocean born snow great dining halls and ate in the comfortable mild warmth that could only be found in there. And having been offered the gratitude of a royal visit offered William and his company snow shoes and coats and let them back out. If at the time he felt he was not possessed to arrive to the capital he believed he may have stayed in those palaces until the snow cleared and as armies of servants continually cleared out and expanded the rural palaces until they stretched out for miles under heavy winter snow.

Passing from extensive and endless fields and on into pastures where the long fences marched on over the hills and on more undaunted by distance and terrain. Here and there idled flocks of pearl white sheep and the scattered herd of cattle laying out in the mud and taking in the early warmth of a spring sun. There also were horses with their broad and well build shoulders and flanks, ready for war and to equip the armies and officers of the Arkronian military. They pranced and ran about in sweeping pastures and fields as free as they could be, getting their exercise. Here and there among them stood human serfs who leaned on their staffs with whips wrapped at their sides idling supervising the herds doubtlessly appraised more valuable than they themselves.

And among field and pasture were the well tended forests of their orchards and vineyards were already workers were out with sheers and rakes to clear the earth and trees for a new growing season. The dead were being cleaned from the healthy and tossed aside. A continual regrowth of the Arkronian's own grown luxury.

William took a puff of his pipe and asked himself: how much longer until their voyage ends?

Drokon-Al stared down the giant window of the cabinet meeting hall. The governmental meeting room offered an excellent view of the palace’s courtyard and the grand entrance gate. From his place up high he could see the first delegations enter the palace compound. From the small fox-like creatures of the Vulpin to the large Ruline from the Raethian Republic. The other delegations would soon arrive for the coronation ceremony too.

With the evening falling the old steward could not help to wonder if the kingdom of Arkron was seeing her last ray of lights as well. The grey death was spreading across her people and the once unchallenged superpower was heading towards her biggest crisis in history. Many of the Arkronian civilians lived in fear of the grey death while many of the Akronian leadership lived in fear of losing power. If Drokon-Al knew one thing, it was that fear offered bad council.

The old Arkronian finally turned around and walked towards his seat at the conference table. All ministers had gathered once again to discuss the most prominent matters during the evening session. He looked around the table and knew that all men gathered were thinking the same, that the crown prince is too sick to become the next king and yet that he is the last member of his bloodline.

Usually the Arkronian nobles would have fought over the topic of which house would deliver the queen for the wedding ceremony but they all knew that the crown prince would not be able to have physical contact with a member of the other sex. The risk of spreading the sickness was simply too great. No, all these men at the table were thinking of which house should become the next royal bloodline.

“Alan Arkronis”

The ministers responded with the same greeting. A formality that opened all conversations in Arkronian culture. The second formality was the establishment of the agenda for the meeting. Lots of topics were going to be discussed this night as the management of the kingdom of Arkron was a complicated and never ending task.

“Ministers of the great Arkronian nation. The first topic of this meeting is the end of the civil war in the Hegemony of Canthor. I will give the word to our minister of foreign affairs Horish-Namar” spoke the steward.

“Ministers of the great Akronian nation. The hegemon has conquered the last republican stronghold, the city of Irrida and declared the final victory. It is safe to assume that the hegemon has solid control over the territory of the hegemony of Canthor. The Arkonian nation has invested significant resources in securing the victory of the Hegemon faction and we should ensure that those investments are repaid in full.”

“It took them 50 years. Even after extensive military reforms with our guidance. If the civil war in Canthor shows us one thing, then it is that humans make poor soldiers.” Proclaimed Ekram-Rhas.

Ohrahm-Braz, minister of intelligence took the word. “It is unwise to underestimate any race, lord Ekram-Rhas. Informers have reported that the Hegemon’s forces have made significant improvements to the capabilities and organisation over the years. With our help of course. It will be wise to remind the Hegemon that our friendship and involvement made sure that he can now rule over all of Canthor. ”

“Hmmpf. Since when is the great Ohrahm-Braz such a fan of insignificant creatures created by the gods of chaos?” Responded the minister of the army annoyed.

“I am merely stating that we live in a hostile world and that we should not underestimate our vassals. Under our great leadership they can prosper and we should always make sure that out relations remain mutually beneficial, so that all they learn from us won’t be used against our own nation.”

Drokon-Al looked at both the minister of the army and minister of intelligence as they got into a rather pointless argument about the value of humans. The viewpoints of Ekram-Rhas greatly concerned the steward, he was too radical for his taste. A warmonger that longed for the glory his father earned during the 3th rebellion but could never gain due to the mostly peaceful times. At least the minister of the army did not really get along with Ohrahm-Braz well. It would be bad if those two men would unite their forces to present a unified radical front.

After forcing both arguming men to silence Drokon-Al took the word again. “There are still some elements we need to discuss concerning the situation in Canthor. First, there is an invitation to celebrate their victory. We will need to send a proper diplomatic mission. I propose that minister Horish-Namar of foreign relations and minister Ragid-Can of trade will attend the Canthorian celebrations and see to it that their end of the deals we’ve made.”

Both ministers bowed their heads in agreement.

The steward continued with the next topic regarding the civil war. “The hegemon has requested from all nations that any rogue elements be apprehended. Minister of intelligence, do we know where such rogue elements are currently located?”

“Yes, steward. We are keeping tabs on several of the republican leaders. Many have fled Canthor and are currently hiding in neighboring nations. I would like to make a suggestion on how to handle the situation. In my modest opinion we should seek them out and offer them refuge. We never know when the need arises to create a civil war in Canthor. Just see it as a little insurance policy.”

“Are you sure about that? If republican loyalists are spotted within our territory that will put a strain on our relationship with the Hegemony.” Responded the Horish-Namar.

“I am well aware of that minister. That is why we should hide them in various other countries. Maybe send them on a nice holiday to the Skekari beaches. I’ve heard they have beautiful beaches and a pleasant climate. Of course, we would not all send them to the same spot. Spread our investments wisely so that we can always insert some capable rogue agents when the need arises.”

The ministers nodded in agreement.

“Alright, then we will move on to the next topic of our meeting. The impact of the grey death on our nation.” Spoke the old steward as he commanded the room. He knew this was going to be a difficult topic. “We’ll start off with a status report from our armed forces. Minister Ekram-Rhas, you have the word.”

The minister of the army looked at the documents before him before he spoke. “First corps reports 10 deaths, and 122 sick. All assumed to have the grey death. All sick soldiers have been put in isolation and their regiments are put in isolation too. Second corps reports 18 deaths and 185 sick. Third corps reports 9 deaths and 98 sick.” After a long summary the Ekram-Rhas finally came to a conclusion. “The current death toll in the army is 289 and over 3000 soldiers and officers are reported sick. 57 regiments have been affected by the grey death placed in quarantine. The current policy is that if no new cases of grey death pop up for two weeks in a regiment will be available again for active service.”

Next was the minister of the navy Ridhouan-Tag. “ Seven more warships have been put to harbor due to cases of grey death among their crews. All affected crews have been put into isolation. So far 133 sailors and officers have died and over 900 are sick. 27 ships are currently unable to set sail due to crews being in isolation or short staffed.”

After the minister of the navy finished his report Ikra-sha, the minister of economic affairs took the word. “Commercial activities across the entire kingdom are in decline. Reports state that many citizens are decreasing their spending on everything except life’s necessities. However more alarming is the rapid increase in food prices. Wealthy merchants are buying up large quantities of grain and even go as far as buying future harvests. All in fear that the grey death will result in food shortages. For the small artisans, soldiers and other low to medium income families getting the daily required amount of food becomes an increasingly more difficult undertaking.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that development” Responded Bakhal-Amar, minister of the interior. “Reports from our police forces state an increase in feelings of discontent among the human underclass. There has been a slight increase in crime. However one event is concerning. Two days ago a grain caravan was assaulted by a band of human thiefs. Our officers have tracked the grain and believe it was distributed freely by the Forbidden tribe among the human underclass in the capital. It is safe to assume that the forbidden tribe will exploit this situation to strengthen their influence.”

“Of course they will! That is what you get when you allow such lowly creatures within our society.” Replied Ekram-Rhas. “Humans can’t be trusted”

“That is enough! We are aware of your point of view minister. However, we the Arkronian people were created by the gods to bring guidance to the other races. It is our divine duty to lead them to the path of light.” Spoke Cardinal Orign-Eltar, minister of religious affairs with a raised voice. “I suggest that you do not stray away from the path that Ak’ron, the god of order has given us! Otherwise you might risk falling out of favor.”

It was a clear warning from the highest religious leader in the kingdom. With the end of the royal bloodline on the horizon, falling out of favor with the gods was not something an ambitious man like Ekram-Rhas could afford. The minister of the army quickly toned down on his remarks regarding the other races for the remainder of the meeting.

Suddenly Ohrahm-Braz, minister of intelligence rose from his seat. “You will have to excuse me, ministers. I’ll have some urgent business to take care off.” And before any of the others were able to protest his sudden departure, the small Arkronian had left the conference room.

The rest of the evening the other ministers discussed the final topic of the meeting, the coronation ceremony of crown prince Rakon-Da. The festivities would open with an official banquet on the first evening. It would provide a setting to socialize with the various world leaders and would of course be an opportunity to impress the world with the excellent cuisine of the Royal Palace.

On the second day in the late morning the official coronation ceremony would take place followed by the pledge of fealty of the vassals to the new king. This was the moment where the delegations would also hand over the many gifts they had brought with them for the new king. This event would be followed by a military parade. The second day would end with another banquet, feast and fireworks.



Personal hygiene is important within the Arkronian culture. Not only was bathing considered a social activity, it was also closely tied in with the Arkronian view on medicine and health care. Arkronian healers share the idea that washing yourself and relaxing can cure many ailments. Often bathing activities were complimented with various forms of massages that include medicinal oils. Needless to say that in a time of plague, bathing is seeing a surge in popularity.

Many large villa’s have their own private baths while the large cities also host a variety of public bath houses. Some of those are small and sober places that cater towards the lower classes while others are large luxurious buildings which offer a wide variety of bathing area’s. In general Arkronian bath houses consisted of a large hot bath, a smaller cold bath and an area where the bathers could get their various massages and skin treatments. Another important part of the typical Arkronian bathhouse was the courtyard. Every bath house offered a garden closed off by a high wall from viewers where the visitors could walk and relax on various types of benches.

The Arkronian bath house is strictly separated for the different sexes. Bathing is an activity that is done in nudity and being nude in the proximity of members of the other sex you’re not acquainted too is considered indecent and obscene behavior in the Arkronian society. The Arkronian state even went as far as to outlaw such indecent behavior in their extensive moral laws.

The Palm Beach Bath house is the most luxurious of bathhouses within the capital. All the others pale in comparison when it comes to the sheer beauty and size of this Bath House. Her exquisite mosaic floors and walls are unparalleled throughout the country. And yet that is not what the Palm Beach is famous for. Unlike any other, Palm Beach bath house offers more than just the regular bathing facilities. This specific place has raised the bar by integrating various other elements such as a steam bath and hot saunas.

However what truly makes Palm Beach remarkable was the fact that they offered private baths. These rooms could be booked by groups or individuals who wanted a more private experience. Often merchants would invite their business partners to discuss deals away from the ever listening ears of their competitors or the social elite would meet up to gossip. However there was also a dark side to these private baths. As the services that could be acquired in these private rooms went a little bit further than your average relaxing massage.

In Palm Beach the Arkronian elite could indulge in the pleasures that are frowned upon by society and prohibited by law. Drawn by the pretence of privacy, many of the most virtuous Arkronians would give in to their darkest of vices once the prying eyes of the public could not see them. However the truth about Palm Beach Bath house was that regardless of the amount of privacy the place offered, Peatyr Breathnach, the owner would always know what his clientele was doing. Some considered the Vulpin just an exploiter of brothels while others understood the value of the information he gathered.

In a society built around orderly and virtuous behavior, knowing the darkest secrets of the social elite made you a powerful man. Just the idea that your sinful behavior could become public gossip scared many of the Arkronians into doing his bidding. The Vulpin lured his victims in with the pleasures of their wildest dreams and then playfully reminded them that he knew what they had done. Knowledge is power and if you know the right kind of information you practically own people. Especially in a society where a public image of order and virtuous behavior is extremely important.

As usual Peatyr spend his evening in what he called his office. The only private bath room without secret spots to peek through. The room was relatively large and everything was centered around the round bath in the middle. Against the walls of the room were several sofa’s and tables where he and his guests could relax. Near the entrance door was a large wooden cabinet which holded a variety of alcoholic beverages from across the continent. The ceiling consisted of a large glass cupola to let the daylight in. However since the sun had set, the cupola provided an excellent view of the night sky.

The owner found himself gazing at the stars with a glass of fine Skekari wine in his hand. He recently had acquired some very interesting information about the selection procedure and criteria for if the crown prince would succumb to his disease and the cardinals would have to choose a new royal bloodline. Combine that with the fact that half of the cardinals are regular customers of Peatyr’s offered services and the Vulpin was in an excellent position to influence the decision making. However, he still had to find the right buyer for it.

His string of thoughts was suddenly interrupted by 3 short knocks on the door.

“Enter” commanded the Vulpin as he turned around, only to watch one of his human servants coming through the door.

“There is a man who would like to speak with you mister Breathnach. He is Arkronian sir.”

The Vulpin stared intrigued at his servant. It was unlikely for any of his important Arkronian clients to disturb him at this hour. “Does this Arkronian have a name?”

“He did not tell his name. He merely stated that he was looking for a merchant of knowledge and was willing to pay the gold price.” Responded the servant.

“Isn’t that interesting. A mystery guest that seeks me out. Well, make sure he’s undressed and pour the man a drink of his liking.”

“Yes, mister Breathnach” said the servant as he closed the door behind him.

Peatyr folded his arms on the side of the bath, resting his head on it. He wagged his tail slowly through the warm water creating circles through the movement. The Vulpin could not help to wonder who was looking for a business transaction this hour. His eyes tracked the movement of the door as it opened again as the servant let the guest in.

Through the door stepped a rather unremarkable Arkronian male. He was rather small for an Arkronian and did not possess the athletic physique that many Arkronians strive for. It was a rather disappointing sight to a connoisseur of the male body. Especially when you factor in the fact that the guest was lacking some distinctive male attributes. However Peatyr instantly knew who his guest was and that he could not treat him lightly.

“color=008000]“So, the stories I heard about you are true. You aren’t really king material. Offspring would be rather difficult to produce with your….condition, Ohrahm-Braz.” [/color] Peatyr paused a bit to judge his guest’s reaction but soon continued. “I’m afraid that even the healing properties of my bath house can’t cure your ailment.” Joked the Vulpin.

Ohrahm-Braz, the Arkronian minister of intelligence walked to the cabinet next to the door and went through the fine selection of wines. Purposely he opened up the most expensive bottle and calmly poured himself a glass. The jab about his lacking masculinity did not seem to get to him at all. Ohrahm-Braz seemed to be extremely confident with his own body.

Calmly he walked up to the Vulpin who was still resting his head on the side of the bath. Ohrahm-Braz only stopped inches before the owner and looked down upon Peatyr Breathnach before beginning to speak. “Of course those stories are true. I told everyone about my birth condition, everyone who wanted to listen and those who refused, well I shoved it in their face, visually. I paraded naked through the royal palace. Symbodically waving my piece in front of the king. You see Peatyr, everybody thinks that being born with a disfigured body is some sort of weakness. Something the likes of you can exploit. The truth is that you can’t change what you are. You can only try to hide it or embrace it. Those are the only options to choose from. I don’t need to tell you which choice I made.”

Peatyr looked up and stared in what seemed to be nothingness. He could barely lift his head high enough to look at the minister’s eyes while his jaw dropped as he listened to the words Ohrahm-Braz sproke. Instinctively the Vulpin moved backward just to regain eye contact with the Arkronian that towered above him. He could not help to notice that the minister possessed a limitless amount of confidence. Ohrahm-Braz’s presence was dominating like the pitch black clouds before a severe thunderstorm.

As Peatyr made way the Arkronian minister stepped into the bath and seated himself on the spot where the Vulpin sat just moments ago. For a moment he closed his eyes and enjoyed the hot water on his grey skin. Suddenly Ohrahm-Braz opened his eyes and looked Peatyr deeply in his eyes. “You are going to arrange the early passage to the afterlife of someone for me.”

With disbelief, the Vulpin looked at the minister. This was not the kind of request people would generally ask of him. Assasination wasn’t really Peatyr’s trade. After a moment the owner of the Palm Beach Bath house regained his composure and was capable of responding. “That sort of business is not really my area of expertise. I believe you have perfectly capable people in your employ….”

Before he could finish his sentence Ohram-Braz suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Peatyr by the head and pushed the unsuspecting Vulpin underwater. Desperately he tried to fight the powerful grip of an Arkronian but a small Vulpin was no match. The hot water filled his lungs and blood pounded behind his eyes as Peatyr desperately fought for survival.

Suddenly he was dragged through the water and thrown on the side of the bath. Disoriented Peatyr rolled on his back and couched heavily to get the water out of his lungs. For a moment, he was unaware of what had just happened, the Vulpin layed on the floor gasping for air.

As he regained some of his composure Peatyr stared at the Arkronian who towered above him. “I….I don’t fear death” Sputtered the Vulpin.

Ohrahm-Braz sat down upon his victim and grabbed him by the throat. Slowly he moved his head and whispered in Peatyr’s ear. “I know. You’re a devil and the only thing a devil fears is getting kicked back to hell.”

“You don’t know what my hell is.” protested the owner of the bath house.

“On the contrary. It is so obvious that even an Ascarian can figure it out after only a century of thinking about it. You’re a fucking Vulpin. Born in some muddy shithole spending your summers hunting rabbits and your winters hungry. You were born an insignificant nobody with nothing and look at you now. The owner of the largest bath house of the kingdom. The merchant of information. More coins in your pocket than you can spend in a lifetime and I can take it all away whenever I want. Don’t you ever forget who is keeping the authorities off your back. The minister of the Interior would love to shut your little pleasure palace down. Never forget who’s little pet you are!”

Peatyr knew the minister was right. His Establishment violated more Arkronian laws then could be written down in one book. The sad truth was that the only reason the Palm beach bath house could remain in business was as long as Peatyr Breathnach remained of value to the likes of Ohrahm-Braz.

“Who needs to die?”

“The crown prince, During the opening banquet.”



The light of torches casted shadows through the tavern hall of Bacchus Brew, hiding some of the patrons in the shadows while others basked in the light. The tavern got his name from an old god that was once worshipped by the humans who lived in this part of Mycoria. However those practices and beliefs were mostly left behind when the Arkronians arrived. There is however a small group of humans that still cling to these ancient ways. A secret society whose name is only whispered when no Arkronian ears are around to hear it. The forbidden tribe.

“We did good.” Proclaimed a man to his companions when he raised his pull of ale.

“For humanity!” Proclaimed the others.

Carl Jacobson, a large build human with short black hair, looked at the three others who were with him in Bacchus Brew. They were the core members of The forbidden tribe in the capital of the kingdom of Arkron and some would consider them a more radical element. Just a few days ago they had robbed a grain transport and distributed the food for free among the human underclass of the city.

The humans might not get sick from the plague but they were suffering many of the negative backlashes from it. Rising food prices, prejudice from the Arkronian population who rumoured that the grey death was of human origin and much more.

“We need to grow bigger. We can’t help our brothers and sisters with just the four of us.” Continued Carl.

“We don’t have enough weapons. Getting them on the black market is extremely difficult with Arkronian police all over the place.”

Carl turned towards the only female companion in his small group. He valued the bright youngster who was always quick to give her opinion and never afraid of asking the difficult questions. The black haired human often viewed her as the daughter he never had.

“I’m aware of that Lisa. However with the coronation ceremony drawing in close, the city will be filled with delegations from all over Mycoria. Not every vassal likes the throne. With this plague running rampant among the Arkronians I am sure there will be parties interested in throwing some more fuel on the fire”

Lisa took a large gulp from her pull and looked the leader of her group in the eyes. She knew all too well the the Arkronians weren’t loved by everyone but would there be any country stupid enough to start mingling in their internal affairs? If the Arkronians would find out there could be dire consequences for the parties involved.

“Who are you going to ask for aid?” Asked Lisa.

“I am going to dispatch messengers to the Yuravians, The Dominion of Epha and the Saa’Kaleed Abiat. One of our friends works as a gardner in the Royal palace and he will deliver the invitations to meet us here.”

“How do you know they won’t betray us?” Asked Lisa.

“I don’t invite the Vulpin.”

@Datadogie @Yam I Am @Gowia




It was his big day and yet it didn’t feel like it. In fact Rakon-Da felt terrible. Not only because he was sick but also because his coronation would be rather pointless. The healers hadn’t much hope about him recovering from the grey death and even if he did, he would be king in nothing except name. A figurehead, forced to ascend a throne by the law he could never do justice. Those who survived this plague were often crippled psychically and mentally for life.

As the many palace servants raced around him to do the final preparations for the opening banquet Rakon-Da just stared at the throne as it loomed over him. At best his reign would be short, at worst his reign would be the one that would go down in the history books as the most pointless that ever existed. The crown prince could not help but wonder why the gods have given him such a cruel fate.

”Your Highness, please remain in your quarters until the evening starts. You will need your strength for when the grand hall is filled with the rulers and nobility from all across our realm.” Spoke Drokon-Al, the steward of Arkron.

Rakon-Da turned his head and looked at the one man who was leading their glorious nation in the absence of a king. The crown prince could not help but to give the old man a faint smile. Not because he valued his concern or compassion but for the absurd fate that the gods had chosen for the great Arkronian nation. His father had passed away, Rakon-Da himself was too sick and the steward was in his final days before retirement. Who would be left by the end of this year to lead their nation through this crisis?

“I am alright. The healers are preparing an extract of several plants to help me get through the evening. It will ease my pain and give me energy. Just live through the coming days and the great kingdom of Arkron can pretend to have a king.” Said the crown prince with sadness in his voice.

”That is what our laws command us to do. The next one in line must ascend the throne, regardless of the question if he is fit to rule.” Spoke the Stewart.

”I wonder if those laws are any good when they put a sick man on a throne when the nation is standing before it’s greatest crisis.”

”Still i’d rather have a sick man as the leader of our glorious nation than Ekram-Rhas. responded Drokon-Al.

”Yes, that man will run the kingdom quicker into the ground than any plague can do. You better make sure that he will never ascend the throne. Only bloodshed and chaos can come from his reign. I’ll be off to my chambers now. I’ll heed your advice and take some rest before the banquet will start.”

The old Arkronian steward looked as the crown prince left the grand hall. He knew Rakon-Da’s rule won’t be long. After he passes away, a new royal bloodline would be chosen and there weren’t many Arkronian noble families who he deemed capable and desirable for such a task. Drokon-Al could only hope that the gods would not choose house Rhaskozikan for the new royal bloodline.

As the many palace servants cleared the hall after completing the final preparations Drokon-Al looked around. In front of the stairs to the throne was the large table of the crown prince. Two seats were placed at it with appropriate distance to each other as a measure to prevent spreading the grey death further. At the other side of the crown prince’s table were the seats for the delegation of the Aegire Oligarchy. A nation the crown wishes to strengthen her relationship with.

To the sides of the crown prince's table where the tables of the ministers and the Cardinals. Arguably the most powerful men in the kingdom of Arkron. Close to the tables of the Arkronian leadership the delegations of the vassals were seated. Some were held in high regard while others were distrusted. However all were members of the realm and subjects of the crown. Their attendance was demanded and they must be placed according to their statue within the grand hall.

The grand hall was filled with neatly decorated tables. Endless rows of expensive porcelain plates, silverware and crystal wine glasses filled the tables. Servants took their places and the musicians did the final tuning of their instruments. With all set in place, the banque could be opened as planned.

At the sign of the master ceremony the musicians started to play. The steward, Arkronian ministers and cardinals all took their seats before the guards opened the elegantly decorated doors that gave entrance to the grand hall. First the Arkronian aristocracy would enter. Every high born that entered through the door was announced by name and taken to their seats by a servant.

The entry was as methodically planned as anything in the Arkronian nation. First the Aristocracy would be seated, followed by the delegations of the vassal states. Next up would be the lower aristocracy, military leaders and members of the clergy. The last guest to enter would be the few low born who were invited. Many of the most successful merchants were of humble birth but had acquired vast amounts of wealth and influence in the Arkronian state. When all guests were finely seated, the arrival of the crown prince would be announced.

The official ceremony had finally begun.

---

The wind gently rustled the leaves of the gardens outside the window of the Abiat building. Earthy fragrances danced over the noses of the Saa’kaleed as many of the servants and helpers went about making the place fit for the Rea-Abi and his closest advisors, at least those that had been allowed to travel with him, whilst the clan of protectors had found stabling for their Basa and now organised shift and patrol patterns in the unknown building to ensure the safety of their leader. It was the standard procedures whenever the government of the Abiat moved to a location that was unknown and it left many feeling wildly uncomfortable. The Rea-Abi seemed in a far more jovial mood, however, and addressed those retainers not absorbed by other tasks with a pleasantly good humoured demeanor.

“I must say, for as much as I enjoy the heat of the Leed, the Arkronians certainly know how to pamper honoured guests. I might almost think we were here at the goodwill of our hosts, not as their supplicants.” There was polite smiling and chuckling approval all around as subtly everyone turned to see if the representative of the crown might offer any unhappiness at the backhanded compliment. “Nonetheless, this is most certainly a fine place for our nest to settle for the coming days and festivities. Please inform the Crown-Prince that I am most honoured by the state of our housing and look forward to the coming coronation.” A slight tip of the head, hardly the bow most present expected in deference to their leader, was offered in mute response.

“We have finally arrived, my sons, and despite the long and arduous journey it appears that for the foreseeable future we will enjoy a respite in the lapse of luxury to soothe our weary legs and our sore bottoms!” A rousing cheer of approval greeted the news. “We are to follow the rulings of the Arkronians as we conduct ourselves about the capital, there will be no reason for the Crown-Prince to doubt our good intentions, and if I hear of any amongst our number acting in a way to cast aspergers over the honest will of our mission then I will personally pull every tooth from his mouth until he babbles his sorrow like a newly born babe.” Less cheering followed the threat, though the lizardfolk appeared contented by the threat, whilst the Arkronian appeared somewhat taken aback at the distasteful barbarism. “Our hosts have provided an agent of the crown to act as our guide and handler whilst here, I expect you all to listen closely as they run us through the arrangements for the festivities and beyond.”

The well dressed man of grey, with the veneer of a broad smile, stepped up beside the Rea-Abi and patted him gently which drew a discontenting growl from one or two of those present. “Thank you, Rea-Abi, the Prince appreciates all of those loyal to the crown and your presence here to see his inauguration. We are the honoured ones, truly.” Aram Sallah nodded his head graciously and smiled wickedly when a few voices muttered Haka Marea. “Your Rea-Abi is right, however, it is time to go through the rules regarding how you must carry yourselves here in the capital. Whilst we respect your individuality as a people and the uniqueness of your culture, it will be doing no good for you to act well outside the norm in front of the other noble families. The power of the crown must be respected.” The Arkronian spoke cooly, with the primness and etiquette of someone trained in the art of diplomacy by an overlord, and with none of the tact of someone who had spent some time amongst the Saa’kaleed. At least back in the Leed the Crown Agent had learned how to best approach the emotive folk of the Leed.

As the rules regarding court of the Arkronians were lecturedm, and many pretended to pay close attention whilst desperately hoping attendants were actually keeping notes, the Rea-Abi sat patiently and smiled amicably as he went about the business of okaying the decisions of the house. Menus needed to be cleared, wardrobes were being selected, and the assortment of goods that would constitute the gifts for the crown had to be made final. All the while the words of the Yuravian representative continued to run through his mind. Deviance by devotion? Empowering a weak crown to create room for which to wiggle until the time was right to throw off the yoke of the Arkronian was a tempting ideal. It was passive and drew so little risk, it merely meant acting out loyally, but it also was the equivalent of doing nothing and that brought domestic issues of its own. He was an old lizard now, whilst not decrepit he still feared he would not live to see the sands of the Leed under the stewardship of the Saa’kaleed alone.

Furthermore, a number of the other clans that dominated other cities across the desert were vitriolic in their desire to see the Arkronians deposed. It was one of the reasons his court had grown so small as of late. Protest by absence was becoming common. Which was why the letter that was passed to him kept his attention far longer than any others. A Forgotten Tribe of humans ready to rebel? This was unexpected and deeply suspicious, were the scheming machinations of the Arkronians reaching new levels and producing threats to their own supremacy to draw in traitors? This required more investigation. Very well, he decided, the help would find themselves in receipt of a night off in thanks for their service in the journey. From their number he would find his agent.

---

---

If in the north the Rea-Abi enjoyed a warm breeze and the budding of new flowers, off the shores of Ikesh it was a veritable holiday. The waters remained calm at anchor so close to the harbour of one of the very few settlements that straddled the shore of the island. Brilliant light warmed the blood and made it necessary for the Grand Vizier to spend most of the days under the shade of a canopy that had been erected over the top of the barge’s deck and allowed meals to be eaten at perfect comfort. The little coin they had was slowly trickling into the coffers of the nearby village as Saa’kaleed traded for the necessary supplies to remain at their meeting place for as long as possible. Days had turned to weeks and by now it appeared that the Aegiren party would not be arriving to discuss the dealings over the island.

Whilst this had been an incredibly pleasing break from life in the capital, Faisal Hassan had lived with the specter of the future hanging over him like a cloud. His instructions had been reliant on the possibility to diplomatically find some solution to their impasse that would make a quiet and simple assumption of control over the island and the straits. Now, that seemed impossible with the failure of the other side to appear to have those discussions. That left him with the choice of settling to ignore the subject and report he had been unable to even pursue his task, or being more confrontational when playing his hand. Was this island worth fighting over? Certainly many of the coastal clans thought so. It was their distant cousins who now shared the settlements on Ikesh with other human colonists from the Aegire and formed a semi-independent state made toothless by the posturing of the divorced parent states.

The treaties with Arkronia had made all nascent seafarers across the continent, but even so the Abiat was remarkably ill developed by that standard. Once the Basa were landed control would be guaranteed, but if they made some move and the Aegire managed to intercept them at sea it would likely be a slaughter that he would never recover from in the eyes of the court. There had to be another way that didn’t bring them to outright war, but that would make the intentions of the Abiat quite clear. On the way back to the Abiat he might have more time to think about it, unless…

“Captain! Prepare us to sail, and make for the port. I intend to land on Ikesh.” The outburst caused the ship to fall silent and all looked at him astonished, according to custom no official of his stature could land. “Are we deaf aboard this vessel? I said to land! I intend to go ashore, Hashim?” The Grand Vizier turned looking for his closest agent. “You said there is a group on the island who support annexation by the Abiat, correct?” The slight form of the lizard nodded his head reservedly.

“Yes, Grand Vizier, but they are a minority. And another group support protectorate status from the Aegire. Most seem content to await for a peaceful solution and to accept what may come. Though, a unilateral occupation would likely polarize the people and radicalise both groups. What do you intend to achieve by landing?”

“We are going to stay with some of our friends for a while, enjoy the cooler weather out here in the straits and try some local cuisine. We will observe and be present, though I want that to be clear before I set foot on the land. When we dock you will go to the houses of our supporters and find us accomodation, then I will disembark and make immediately for the house you have found. I am sure the Aegire will hear news of this soon enough, but it will take too long for the message to reach them before we have comfortably settled in and made contact with everyone who is sympathetic with the cause. Meanwhile a letter will be dispatched informing those remaining in the Abiat to prepare a punitive group. If the Aegire attempts to storm the island then our lives may be lost, but we can seek restitution from the crown, let us turn up the heat of these debates without resorting to an invasion. If the Aegire still fail to respond then the continent will know they no longer keep their claim to the straits and we can freely move in.”

“You play with fire, Grand Vizier, what if the crown holds us accountable for this breach of tradition?”

“By the time they can send anything to respond to us, we will have fermented the support we need. The crown are only good if this comes to a conflict, because their fleet will not be stopped. A diplomatic faux pas? I’m willing to take the risk we’ll be asked to evacuate at worst, and by then we will have achieved everything we need to.” Even as the Vizier planned the chain of the anchor was being ratcheted up and the prow of the ship was turning to face the small harbour of the seaside village. Soon the Abiat would have one of their highest ranking officials on the lands of Ikesh again, it was a gamble that could very well go wrong, but if the Grand Vizier was right then there was every chance he could maneuver around the Aegire.

---

@Trinais

---

---

There was a rasping cheer as the crowd of lizards pushed their way into the Tavern, jangling with the extra coin provided by the Rea-Abi for the evening’s entertainment. It had been an unexpected boon when he had generously given them all the night off as a reward for the journey and funded a debauched journey to the drinking holes of the Arkronian capital. Many had never left the palace, however, let alone the country and so the city was a total mystery. Thankfully Ksar Abdulh had journeyed here before and directed them to the Bacchus Brew Tavern, somewhere he quoted as the best place to drink away all the worries in the world. He hadn’t explained that it was a place dominated by the human servants of the Arkronians though, and the lizards were loathed to part as a group, even feeling more unwelcome than before as they caught the glares of the few patrons of the place. Even so, Ksar convinced them to stay, paying for a round first out of his own pocket.

This wasn’t the only place the lizardfolk were visiting, but it was one Ksar had convinced a crowd to go to. He hoped given the spread of his people this night that agents following them might be divided and he’d be able to meet with whomever the contact was without drawing the attention of the crown. “The largest drink you have, please. For us, the forgotten tribe.” He hissed to the man behind the counter, paying for his drink and the round with a purse. Taking the flagon provided he nodded as the man pointed to a small alcove in the back of the tavern. It was the third drinking house they’d visited and Ksar pulled up his hood and made his way to the alcove, confident his fellow lizards would be caught up in drink and the haze of the drinks they had had to even notice his slipping away.

---

@Milkman

The Bacchus brew was mildly filled with patrons this night. Many humans had hit the tavern to spend their hard earned coin to drink, sing and dance away the worries of living under Arkronian rule as second class citizens. However that was not the case of Carl Jacobson, the leader of the Forgotten Tribe in the kingdom’s capital.

The Arkronians considered this middle aged man a terrorist but he regarded himself a freedom fighter. Needless to say that he wasn’t shy to use violence as a means to reach his goals. In Carl’s opinion, humans have lived far too long under the Arkronian occupation and it was time to drive these grey men back into the sea too where they came from.

Lisa Wright looked at her leader with a sense of curiosity in her eyes. With her 22 winters this brown haired lady was the youngest companion within the inner circle of Carl Jacobson’s cell. Shy might be the youngest but she was as fierce and dedicated to the cause of the Forgotten Tribe as anyone else in her group.

Do you really think anyone will show up, carl? What have those scalies ever done for us? Except failing rebellions?

Carl just smiled. If the Sa’kaaleed had traveled by land they could not have missed this change of time. Everyone with a bit of perception should have noticed that something was brewing, that the winds of change were about to sweep through Mycoria and that it was up to those who lived in the realm to decide who was going to get swept away.

Just as the leader was about to respond a group of lizardfolk entered the bar. Closely Carl observed them as they went to the bar. Being lizardfolk, the Saa’kaleed naturaly stood out from the human crowd in the tavern. Just as much as Any Arkronian would stand out in this place. That is why the middle aged human closely watched who entered the place after the group of Lizardfolk.

Do you know him, Lisa?” Asked Carl as an unfamiliar face entered the tavern just a minute after the group of Sa’kaaleed entered the Bacchus Brew.

Lisa looked closely, she had a gift when it came to remembering faces and knew pretty much anyone who frequented this establishment or lived in the neighborhood.

Nope, never seen him before. You think he’s a snake?”

Could be, we should be careful. Go take care of it. No place for snakes in Bacchus Brew”

Lisa gave a short nod and left the table. She walked straight up to the bar and ordered two large pints of ale and walked to the man who sat alone at a table too far away from the group of lizardfolk.

From the corners of his eyes Carl noticed how one of the Lizardfolk left the group and made his way to the Alcove he was sitting in. So the Sa’kaaleed were interested in talking. Hopefully the Lizardmen were interested in supplying him with weapons.

He turned his head toward the hooded figure and raised his pint. “It’s uncommon to see any Lizardfolk in this part of town. I would almost think that you’ve got my invitation.”

(A short co-op post between myself and @Blandina)

The streets of the royal city were awash with the color and spectacle of celebration as the coronation came ear. Having rested at the royal apartments for the Kingdom of Cor, the royal family with their attendants paraded out to the palace, bringing with them in tow the long train of brandy they had brought as a gift and party favor for the celebrations to be. The wagons, weighted high with more than enough alcohol for everyone were decorated with fine livery to match the occasion and a certain show was put on that the Corvids had brought presents for the new king and court. But still, despite the fanfare and the turning out in the city there was a presence of something indistinguishable. A phantasmal presence defined more not by its absence and uncertain shape. For the duration of the trip, William had heard stories of a plague and a disease that effected the Arkronian people. The state however seemed to have gone to great lengths to hide it. As such the streets, while packed felt empty felt empty. The jubilant gray of the Arkronians of the city themselves turning out en'masse felt muted. While many cheered, William noticed just as many who did not cheer and merely turned out to the spectacle of the Coarsecrane family and attendants dressed in their fine ceremonial regalia and knightly armor. These spectators did not cheer them, but neither did they strictly jeer them. William felt himself more at the center of a quiet spectacle to many of the city's residents whose lack of enthusiasm did little to comfort him.

His children felt the presence of lack less so. They looked out in excitement of being in the shadows of the great beautiful city of Arkronia with its elaborate bunting and banners and streamers flying high in the air. They saw the city for what it was dressed up to be: great, open, resplendent and full of life. Where ever they looked there was nowhere without spectators. Though all of them human and Arkronian. Very rarely did they notice anyone else of the other races of the Empire, the fox-faxed Vulpins, the stoic primal Rhaetian, of the sly and calculative Saa'kaleed hard to read. The looked up at the buildings into the tall windows from which the people leaned out of waving flags and handkerchiefs and cheering. Passed the bath houses where silver streams of heated steam flowed into the cool spring afternoon air. It appeared even more to them, that for the occasion the trees had even been forced to spring into bloom by the power of the Empire as they burst with colored streamers of green, pink, red, and blue.

When they arrived to the palace the princes who had never been there were stricken by the sight. Its immensity soared into the sky. Its walls braced by immense columns of finely masoned stone heavier than ancient oaks and taller than mountains. Its gate houses, portals, foyers, and halls being more than enough to contain the entire processions that came from all over the realm to mix and mingle within its entrance ways. And as they gazed up through it, they saw that while the halls were well lit by innumerable candles and limitless windows the very peaks of the ceilings seemed permanently shrouded in shadows and dim light, from which barely indistinguishable images looks down, their presence hidden as if in a dream, hidden behind the cover of a foggy early morning haze and shadow that eclipsed the ability to see and muddied the capacity of the mind's own ability to reflect. It was easy then to look up and see these images and wonder if these were the gods of the Arkronian people manifesting in the cast shadows of the internal buttresses and rafters of the great hall to spin a window into an alien world to look upon the actors in the assembled spectacle and if they were ready to cast judgment and blame for what they were about to do.

In such splendor it became easy to forget what was going on and for time to lapse and very soon they were being summoned by the staff to file in and to join the ceremonies. William declared their gift, and chamberlains came to set aside the gifted whiskey and to shuttle it off for the banquet. And as swiftly and easily as they came and disappeared with that, the royal family soon found themselves in the great ceremonial chambers of the imperial crown, whose throne rose high as a mountain above all: empty of its majesty to be as all began to assemble. William and his companions, and all those slowly began to take their seat.

---

As the procession made its way through the marble streets the two junior triarchs couldn't help but be amazed by the splendor of the city and the discipline it could command from its inhabitants. The sight was still impressive to the elder of the three, though he couldn't help but feel that something was different from the last time he had been there. The celebrations seemed a bit more complusory, the smiles a bit more stiff.

Regardless of the slight discomfort of the crowds the procession had gone along smoothly, all the tributary goods had been taken from the harbor and taken wherever the Arkronians saw fit, and now the Triarchs were being brought into the inner chambers of a palace which could only be described as gargantuan by even the boldest of men. Despite swarms of bureaucrats and administrators, the process of seating everyone was a fairly quick one as the Skekarii found themselves ushered to a table with a small host of ruline, a few of whom Vahn had met before. Between the feathered Avan and the scaled Ruline the table seemed to the triarchs to be an odd mix, though the brightly colored and perfumed fashion senses of the Skekarii court might have seemed just as strange.

"King William of Cor, I believe? It's been some time, it's nice to see you again. I'd like to introduce you to my partners, King Mahd and Queen Haster."

The triarchs were, of course, dressed in their finest though Haster had taken that to the furthest extent, opting for a shaped gown in the traditional turqoise and gold colors of her clan, complete with jewelry and heavy embroidery depicting various types of birds and other wildlife native to the Skekarii jungles. This was the first true meeting with foreign leaders in her time as a triarch and it was fully her intent to show her peoples rising position. Vahn and Mahd were both dressed a bit more conservatively in more simple robes traditional to the Skekarii court, loose fitting in order to accomade the heat and leaving the left shoulder exposed, Mahd in the cyan and blood orange of his clan and Vahn in the light pink and green of his.

"T'is a pleasure t' meet you both." William said in his usual sullen tone. Rubbing the inside of his pipe with a thumb he asked, "How is the homeland?"

Haster decided she’d be the one to respond, “Senald has blessed us, commerce has been on the uptick and our weather is warm, it’s hard for a Skekarii to complain. How’s Cor been fairing? I’ve heard the southern mountains are beautiful. Hopefully the hegemon’s victory will bring some trade to that side of Mycoria. I take it these are the princes?”

"Yes, these are m'sons Henry, t' oldest," William said, moving so that he may now to the Triarchs, "Coffey, n' Edward."

The triarchs returned the bow with the simple curtsy more common in the Skekarii court. Vahn took up the conversation now.

"It's always a privilege to get to meet some of the future leaders of Mycoria, I would have brought my own heir had it not been for pressing matters at home. Perhaps you'll be able to make your way to Wyacannae one day, we'd be honored to show you all our hospitality, though I fear it's not quite so well funded as the Arkronians."

“I happen to like our brand of hospitality, it's sweet. . . It may not be my place to say it, but everything about this city has given me the impression of a gilded cage, though perhaps that's a conversation better left for other times."

"Agreed, for the moment let's enjoy the splendor and the company. I've met very few Avan before, only a few merchants and representatives that were present when I was crowned." Haster waved her hand towards one of her entourage who promptly brought a tray of glasses filled with deep red liquid.

"Would you care for any? Straight from our vineyards, we brought several casks as tribute, but we made sure to keep a few for our villa."

"Don't mind if I do." William said, and looking aside to invite the princes to partake of they so choose.

With a jubilant sound of horns the procession of imperial subjects began to draw to a close. The party goers exchanged pleasant salutations and made sure to give the proceedings their upmost attention.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Your sister will be pissed when she finds out that you once again acted on your own, Rowen.’’

Rowen, the elder brother of Raelin, looked up to the warrior who was speaking to him. Now matter how hard he tried he could not hide his irritation when someone mentioned his sister. Just the fact that their parents made her leader of the clan infuriated Rowen. Maybe even more than Ephans settling into their territory.

“Ofcourse I am sure about what to do. My sister isn’t here. She’s sipping some expensive wine far far away while we are sitting here in the melting snow observing some Ephan village. Don’t fucking mention her when she’s not relevant!”

Rowen Loinsigh paused to regain his composure. He looked around to the other 12 warriors that were with him. They had been observing the village unnoticed for the last week and were ready to make their move.

“ Here’s the plan. Ten men left on the hunting trip two hours ago. They usually get back near dawn. So there should be 3 adult male humans of fighting age in the village. Two guard the entrance and seem to be beast-knights. No survivors. Cian, you lure the guards away to the pass near the cliffs. Once they are there we rain down boulders on them to throw them over the edge. Once the two guards have plummeted to their deaths, we storm the village, kill everyone we encounter and burn it down to the ground. No survivors.”

Cian raised his thumb as a sign of approval, the smirk on his face betrayed that he liked the plan. Picking fights and annoying people was something this Vulpin was particularly good at. Trash talking was his forte.

Darragh, the warrior who had spoken out before shook his head. Burning villages and killing women and children was a clear escalation of a border conflict over hunting grounds. [/color=B22222] “Rowen, I don’t like this plan of yours. Killing women and children, burning villages. Are we savages who kill the defenseless? How can this be right?”

Angered Rowen grabbed his companion by his muzzle and showed his razor sharp teeth. ” Shut up. I’m done with your complaining. This is not about who is right! This is about who is left! How much people have starved in your village this winter because Ephans hunted our game? Four? Five? As long as these fuckers continue to hunt in our lands it will be Vulpin starving to death. There is not enough for both of us. So are you going to help your Vulpin brothers and sisters survive or are you a supporter of humans who procreate faster than bunnies and need to steal other people’s food to survive?”

With the scolding complete all Vulpin warriors took their position. With a wave of his hand Rowen ordered his warriors to execute his plan.

Cian casually walked around the corner of the pass and approached the guards till about 100 feet. Both Beast-knight weren’t really paying much attention to their surroundings and didn’t the Vulpin warrior coming around the corner. Slowly Cian grabbed an arrow from the quiver on his back and drew back his bow. As he released the string, the arrow shot out of the bow and curved through the sky. With a solid twang it landed right between the feet of one of the guards.

”Yo dominion losers, I know that it’s kinda cool for you naked monkeys to dress up like me but nothing beats a real fur pelt. Just pretending to be an awesome Vulpin doesn’t make you furfuraceous lobberworths worthy of standing in my shadow. Even combined you’re not even half the warrior I am. I really wanted to say ‘I did your wife’ but have you looked at your face? It screams virgin for life louder than a thunderstorm on the mountain peaks. Why don’t you wankers suck my cock? That way I’m doing you a favor so that you can die knowing that you’ve made it to 3th base!”

The string of insults certainly hit its mark. Annoyed, the two Beast-Knights grabbed their longswords. [color=6578F0] “That were your last words, vermin!” Yelled one of the guards as he started to close the distance.

”Whoa, big sword you get there buddy. Compensating for something? Catch me if you can, slowpokes!” Jested Cian as he lured the two Beast-Knights away from the village and onto the small ledge overlooking the cliff.

The ledge was only around half a meter wide and the canyon below was deep enough that no one would survive a fall. The melting snow was making the rock rather slippery but Cian had little trouble maintaining his balance due to his tail. The two Beast-Knights however struggled with the difficult terrain and slippery rocks in their heavy armor.

“Great warrior my ass! All you vermin ever do is talk trash and run away. Quit wasting our time and go back to the hole in the ground that your rodent kind crawled out of.” Yelled one of the Beast-Knights.

Before he could send out more insults the first rocks started to rain down. Quickly Cian pressed himself against the rocky wall of a small cave in while the two Beast-Knights frantically raised their shields above their heads to avoid the onslaught of boulders coming from above. It didn’t take long for the first Beast-Knight to lose his balance and fall over the edge.

As the second one tried to make his way back to the more wider plateau where his village was located he lost track of where Cian was. Noticing the lack of focus on him, the Vulpin warrior seized this opportunity and slammed himself in the back of the large warrior of the Ephan dominion. The force of the small Vulpin’s slam was enough to send the large man over the edge. “ Don’t worry about the fall. It’s the landing that kills you” Shouted Cian with a grin as he watched the last Beast-Knight plummet to his death.

With the Beast-Knights out of the way and the other men from the village not around, there was little that stood in the way of Rowen and his gang. With a wave of his hand the 13 Vulpin warriors stormed the small Ephan village and killed everyone who they could find.

As the screams of the dying fade away, the black smoke of the burning village rises. Some would consider it a victory, others an act of barbarism. But everyone agreed that it was most likely the start of something bigger. As repercussions would surely happen when word of the attack would reach the High Sentinel of the Dominion of Epha.



The Vulpin delegation had settled themselves into their temporary home for the upcoming festivities. Cael Drumain Wintertail watched as the servants unloaded all the baggage their diplomatic delegation had brought to the Arkronian capital. For most nations the amount of baggage was considered small, however the Vulpin generally travel light without excess baggage such as ceremonial clothing, extensive gifts and other trinkets. However for an Arkronian coronation ceremony, no diplomatic delegation could afford to look like a bunch of weary travelers.

The prime servant’s attention quickly turned towards Chief Finlay, the leader of the king’s warband. The stoic warrior was once again instructing his warriors on the guard procedure, as he always did. For a moment their gazes crossed and the icy stare of the warchief pierced the mind of Cael. He knew the warchief didn’t agree with his methods but both vulpin had different jobs. Finlay ran the king’s warband and Cael practically ran the kingdom. The prime servant needed to do what needs to be done to keep his people safe.

It didn’t take long before Callumn Dubhghaill Longear approached the prime servant. A bit nervous the young warrior spoke softly. Uhm, sir Drumain. Chief Finlay said you requested an escort for tonight.”

Cael gave his younger companion a friendly smile and noticed that he had picked him right. Barely enough winters seen to be called a man. Just the way he liked them. Callumn would surely do. “Yes, that is right. I’m going into the city tonight. Arkronia is a dangerous place with perils lurking around every corner.”

”Is it really that bad? I thought the Arkronians are obsessed with order and safety?” spoke the young warrior as he tried his best to hide his surprise.

”Normally Arkronia is the safest place on Mycoria. But not during a coronation ceremony. All the vazals have sent delegations and not all the different people of our realm get along. Things could get messy if we’d run into Ephans or Yuravians. Some nations hardly forget and never forgive.”

”I see, not everyone has forgotten the betrayal that our king did. I’d better keep my eyes open.”

Cael just smiled. Much to his own surprise the young Callumn was even more gullible than he thought. Everything the prime servant just had told him was mostly false. No nation in their right mind would pick a fight with representatives of another nation under the ever watchful eyes of the Arkronian nation. Not to mention that Cael had much different plans for the young warrior.

With the ease of someone who frequented the great Arkronian capital on numerous occasions Cael and his young guardian navigated the mostly deserted streets in the evening before the coronation ceremony would start. The ghost of the Grey Death was clearly haunting the great Arkronian capital.

The prime servant guided his companion through the wide lanes and orderly buildings until they reached the large, walled and beautiful complex known as the Palm Beach Bath house. Steam and smoke rises up from various chimneys and the sounds of talking and laughter could be heared from beyond the walls.

”What is this place?” Asked Callumn as he looked in wonder at the marvelous building and the smoking chimneys.

”A bathhouse.”.

”A bathhouse? Arkronians don’t wash themselves in rivers like us?”

It was clear that this was Callumn Dubhghaill first trip to the kingdom of Arkron. Everything was new for the young Vulpin as this was his first introduction to the very different lifestyle of the Arkronian people. For just one moment Cael recognized himself in the young man as he had once many years ago looked in amazement at the wonders of the Arkronian capital.

The prime servant quickly continued his way to the front entrance of the Palm Beach Bathhouse. Since this was a place that people enjoyed in their birthday-suit, the entrance actually consisted of two separate grand doors. One on the left for the male patrons and the one on the right for the female patrons. In Arkronian culture it was considered indelicate to be exposed when being around the other sex.

Cael quickly made his way to the large counter where a host of servants were waiting for customers to approach and state what kind of service they wanted.
”Alan Arkronis. I am a seeker of knowledge and willing to pay the gold price” Spoke Cael in fluent Arkron.

For a moment the human servant gazed at the two Vulpin in front of him. The fox-like people from Vulpinia weren’t known for being rich however there were always exceptions, such as the owner of this bathhouse.

”What is the name of he who seeks out knowledge?” Asked the servant.

” Tell master Breathnach that Cael Drumain of clan Wintertail seeks him out”

With a small nod the servant left his post only to return a few minutes later. He quickly guided the two Vulpin through a hallway that gave access to the many private bathing rooms this bathhouse offered.The Servant opened up the door on the farthest end of the hallway and let the guests in.

Cael and Callumn found themselves in the dressing room. The room was exquisitely decorated with expensive wooden furniture and offered several cavins in the wall where the guests could stow their clothes away. The floor was tiled with an exquisite mosaic depicting a scene of bathing gods.

The prime servant quickly started to undress himself, neatly folding up his robes and stowing them away just before he noticed that it took his younger companion a while before he followed his example. Maybe the young warrior was a bit shy or just flabbergasted about the sheer size and beauty of the city. It didn’t really matter as long as he proved to be good company.

The servant opened the door and Cael stepped through the doorway, closely followed by a rather nervous Callumn. The eyes of the prime servant scanned the place, from the cabinet filled with exclusive drinks to the various couches on the side and the round bath in the middle. Not much had changed since his last visit to this place.

Peatyr Breathnach quickly rose up from the bath and gave Cael a long hug. It was a common greeting between acquainted Vulpin to hug each other but everytime the prime servant received a hug from this man it sent shivers down his spine. Just the sensation of his touch brought back memories Cael preferred to keep stown away.

” Long time no see Cael. How was the journey to the glorious capital of the realm?” Spoke the owner of the bathhouse as if he was greeting an old friend. Yet both men knew that their relationship could not be classified as friendship. They were acquaintances through common grounds. A relationship that was beneficial enough for both to continue to see eye to eye for as long it would last.

”Yeah, it’s been a while since i’ve visited the Arkronians. If I had known that the place was suffering from a depression i had refused to go on the long and boring trip to Arkronia.”

”Who is your new friend?” Asked Peatyr as he checked out the young warrior with a curious gaze.

”Deya.” Which means payment in the Arkronian tongue awnsed Cael coldly.

”It seems that you’ve acquired the eye for the finer things in life my friend. For complete ownership I can share some of the information you desire.” Continued Peatyr in the Arkronian language.

”You don’t have information valuable enough to gain ownership over a member of the kings warband. You can get sixty minutes. In exchange you tell me everything you know about this plague and how it affects the Arkronian court.” Said Cael coldly.

Peatyr just smiled. ”If that is all you wish to know, then we have a deal. There is a lot I can do in sixty minutes.”

Peatyr switched back to the Vulpin language and gave his guest a friendly nod. “Your Arkronian has once again improved, I’m sure you can handle yourself around the grey court. But the rumours you heard are true. There is a sickness rampaging through the country that only affects the Arkronian people. Other races seem to be immune to this sickness. One of the historians who works at the grand library told me that there are ancient accounts from their homeworld describing this sickness. There is no cure and most who get infected with this disease eventually die from it. The historian said that the accounts speak of an era of great decline that took over a hundred years to recover from.”

The prime servant listened closely as the owner of palm beach spoke. So the situation is far worse than the Grey Men are willing to show us. The era of the Arkronians might end sooner than anyone could assume. “How bad is the situation? Does it affect the Arkronian government and military?

”The situation is pretty bad but it gets mostly hidden from the public. All walks of life are affected. People die in the hundreds every day, thousands are sick. The Arkronians stay at home out of fear of the disease. Commerce is declining, many military units are unfit to be deployed and Amon-Mar IV has died of this disease. The crown prince is sick as well. His personal healer is a friend of mine. He told me that the healers are doing as much as they can to extend his life as much as they can. However there seems to be little doubt that Rakon-Da will die as well.”

Cael Drumain was aware of the fact that Rakon-Da was the last in the current royal bloodline. If he dies, the Arkronian clergy would have to select a new bloodline.

“ Hmm, who has the best papers for being the next Arkronian king?” Asked the prime servant.

“Well, I’m pretty sure Ekram-Rhas of house Rhaskozikan will do a push for the throne. He’s a bit controversial within the court for his rather harsh stances but has some powerful friends who might just help him succeed in his attempt.”

Cael closed his eyes to overthink the situation. The prospect of having Ekram-Rhas as the supreme lord of the realm wasn’t something he was looking forward to. That man did not hide his hate for the other races and was considered a warmonger. If he were to lead the Arkronian kingdom there would certainly be chaos and bloodshed. He would drag the nations of Mycoria into another bloody war and that was something the Vulpin weren’t ready for.

”Who are his opposition?”

”Who knows what might come from unexpected parties. Anyway, you should see the new gardens. I’ve had them remodeled in the last few weeks. They are exquisite.” Said Peatyr with a grin as a sign that he felt that he had shared enough with the Vulpin as his end of the bargain.

The prime servant sighed. He had hoped to get some more information out of peatyr but it was clear he wasn’t willing to share more. Cael could not help to wonder what the man ment with ‘unexpected parties’. Was he referring to some other Arkronian noble houses? Or something different. Was that shady Vulpin implying that non-Arkronian parties could seize the Arkronian crown?

Peatyr Breathnach walked to the cabinet and poured two glasses of wine. He let his hand g over a small bottle in the back of the cabinet. For a moment he considered adding some of the small bottles contents to the drink but for now resisted the urge. He had an hour to do as he pleased so no reason rush.

The owner turned his attention to his other guest who was relaxing in the bath. With a friendly smile he offered the glass of wine to the young warrior.

” So, what is your story?”

Callumn has not given the others in the room much attention. Just sitting in the hot water felt great for his worn out body. He had been carrying the king’s standard for the entire journey to the Arkron capital after all. The sudden question awakened him from his slumber.

”uhm.. My story? I’m not sure if that is an interesting one.” murmured Callumn.

{color=B22222]”Not an interesting one? You’re at your age with the king’s warband. You’re not giving yourself enough credit son” Responded Peatyr.

Of course the older Vulpin knew exactly why the young warrior was added to the warband. It was all Cael’s doing because the Vulpin generally lacked the coin to pay the huge sums of money he demanded in those days.

” Getting into the king’s warband wasn’t really my idea. I never really considered it because I'm not that gifted as a warrior to be honest. I’ve never beaten my older brother once in a mock fight” Spoke Callumn softly as he bowed his head.

” The other warriors in the warband don’t see me as a true member. Just as someone who got forced down their throat. They all have earned their stripes in combat. Some fought in the mountains against Ephan incursions and others in the civil war in Cantor. And me? Nothing. I am just the son of a friend from the king. Not wanted at home and not wanted where I am today.”

Callumn believed that even his father viewed him as a failure. The young warrior would never forget the looks of disappointment when other warriors would have him eat dirt in training or when he returned from a hunting trip with little to show for. He was born in the shadow of his brother and would die in it as well.

“And yet you are here, in the lion's den as a member of the king's warband who has sworn an oath to protect his king. You might feel that you stand in the shadows of those who have accomplished more but your day will come when you have to live up to your oath and earn your stripes. Maybe even sooner than you think.”

Callumn gazed in confusion at the older Vulpin at the other side of the bath. He wasn’t sure what he was talking about and why was he calling the safest city of the realm a lion’s den? So many questions and feelings raced through his mind and body that needed to be answered.

”What do you mean? With sooner than you think?”

”Well, young one. This is the great Arkronian capital. A city built on the backs of countless Mycorians who were forced to give their life for the wealth of a people from far beyond the sea. Nobody really likes the Arkronians and the Arkronians certainly don’t particularly like the others. Not to mention that king Aidar is rather controversial. Especially the Ephan’s hate his guts. They have lost many men due to his betrayal during the 3rth revolution. The city is basically filled with people who consider each other enemies. And many would like to see king Aidar bleed.”

The words of the Vulpin shocked the young warrior. Was he implying that his king is in danger? Was someone plotting to take his life? And why was he telling him this and not Cael? Wasn’t the prime servant not the right man to deal with this situation?

Peatyr noticed that his young guest was at a loss of words for now so he continued to talk.

”I can see you have many questions. Well, knowing things and sharing that information with the right people is my job. It is true that king Aidar is in danger. I’ve learned that the Ephans have hired an assassin to take his life. Well, hired might be a bit much. There is this Arkronian noble, a very influential figure who has a certain peculiar taste for entertainment. He likes to kill members of the other races. He finds the act of rather arousing. He’s so influential that he will get away with murdering a vassal king. Unless of course he will be stopped before he can commit the act.”

Peatyr paused to judge the young warrior’s reaction. If it wasn’t for the young man’s fur, the would certainly be pale right now. As it was probably the first time that someone told him that there would be an attempt on the life of his king. The big question was would he feel obligated to act on this information?

”Why are you telling me this?” Murmured the young warrior. ” Shouldn’t you share this information with Cael?”

Peatyr closed his eyes and continued in a bit more dramatic tone.
”Cael turned a position of serving wine and food into a powerful political office in just a matter of a few years. That man is very ambitious but cannot further increase his political power from his current position. He has been stagnant for years now. In order to further advance in power he will need to become the next king of the Vulpin and king Aidar is not the kind of man who goes for an early retirement.”

It was clear to Callumn that Peatyr was convinced that Cael would not do anything to stop this assasination attempt. The more the owner of the bathhouse spoke about it, the more the young warrior felt that it was up to him to prevent this disaster.

”What can I do? I should talk about it with Chief Finlay, right? He can do something about it.” spoke Callumn.

[color=B22222]”No, unfortunately not. His hands are tied and the assasination will take place during the opening banquet. Chief Finlay would not be able to protect the king. The only way to make sure that king Aidar lives is to take the life of his assassin before he can commit his act.It needs to be done quickly and secretly. He is an influential noble. This is your chance to live up to your oath.”

Callumn knew the man was right. This was his chance to prove that he would be more than just the guy that carried the flag, that he could be a great warrior and do what was necessary to protect his king. The young warrior finely felt that he had arrived at the crossroads of destiny. That he was standing before the choice between insignificance and relevance. And more importantly, that it was his choice to make.

“Tell me the details, I will do what needs to be done” Spoke the young warrior

Peatyr Breathnach just smiled. He had found his gullible chum that was willing to do his bidding.



King Aidar Fir Shadowfax was standing before the grand doors of the great hall with his companions. Patiently they awaited to be called in just like the rest of the crowd that had gathered to attend the opening banquet. Many had been invited to this ceremony passing such an invitation down was not something most people could afford.

It didn’t take long before a servant approached the king and asked his group to follow him to their seats. As the old king and his group entered another servant announced their names.

[color=B22222]”King Aidar Fir Shadowfax of Vulpinia, Prime Servant Cael Drumain Wintertail, Sovereign Raelin Loinsigh of clan Palebrush, Warchief Representing the kingdom of Vulpinia.”

Cael, the prime servant turned his head towards the young warrior who was carrying a large crate behind him. It contained 10 bottles of Vulpinian shining moon. A spirited drink made with grains and various psychoactive mushrooms that is distilled only once a month under the full moon. Only one bottle is produced every month and the drink is generally only consumed by the Vulpin shamans during religious ceremonies. They often say that drinking shiningmoon brings you closer to the spirits. Needless to say that Shiningmoon is an extremely rare item to possess.

Callumn, you can give the gifts to that Arkronian servant. They will handle it from here.” Spoke Cael as he wondered why the young warrior volunteered to carry the gifts for the new king.

They hadn’t spoken much since their visit to the bathhouse but the prime servant assumed that it was because of what the owner had done to him. Cael just knew all too well what the tastes of that man are and how it affects someone. The young warrior seemed to handle it very well.

The servant took the Vulpin delegation to their seats. Much to their surprise, the Vulpin were sharing the table with the Dominion of Epha, the Saa’kaaleed and assumebly the remaining seats seemed to be reserved for the delegation of Yuravia.

As the Vulpin delegation took their seats, they could feel the gazes of the high Paladins from the Dominion pierce them as they followed every move the fox-like people made. With as much elegance the elderly king of the Vulpin could muster himself and sat himself down in the chair that was reserved for him before giving a friendly greeting to the Ephan delegation in front of him.

“ Greetings, by the looks of it high Sentinel Augustus himself does not grace us with his presence today. I hope he’s in the best of health.” Inquired the old Vulpin king.

[/color=6578F0] “ As if the traitor king cares so spare me those faked pleasantries! Thanks to you many good men died on the battlefield and we’re still living under the yoke of the Arkronians” Grumphed High Paladin Charles McArthur who was clearly displeased that he had to share a table with those wretched creatures.

50 years ago it was the Vulpin who betrayed the rebellion and switched sides to the crown. They lured the Dominion’s army into an ambush and many beast knights died. Something the dominion has not forgiven nor is able to forget. This event alone has severely strained the relations between both the Kingdom of Vulpinia and the Dominion of Epha. In recent years border clashes have become more common.

”Look who’s talking. For centuries you have invaded lands that do not belong to you. If you lot just stay put in your frozen homes there would not be a problem. Just keep your popsicle brigade where they belong. Otherwise you might lose some more of your precious men.” Jested Realin Loinsigh, sovereign of Clan palebrush who ruled the border region between the kingdom of Vulpinia and had to deal with the Ephans on various occasions.

“Big treats coming from mountain dwelling vermin. But we all know they are as empty as a Vulpin’s promise. Everyone knows that if your puny little ragtag gang of oversized rodents ever step foot on the frozen plains you’d get crushed.” Spoke High Paladin Nylah Harlenton agitated as she joined in the verbal exchange of unpleasantries.

[Color=B22222]”And why should we do that? The northern plains are your land, the mountains are ours. It is not us who’s violating the territorial integrity of another nation. [/çolor] Spoke Realin Loinsigh with a smile. She enjoyed this kind of conversation and she was more or less right. It was that just both nations claimed some of the same territories in the mountain ranges.

Before any of the Ephans could respond, the old Vulpin king spoke up once more. “I must remind you all that we are here to celebrate the coronation of the next Arkronian king. I suggest we enjoy their wine and food in peace for the coming days. We would make poor guests if we’d spend our time here arguing about such trivial matters. It is better to set our differences aside for the coming days then invoke the wrath of an insulted host.”

The Rea-Abi of the Saa’kaaleed turned his head and joined the conversation “To debate like hounds in the desert fighting of the last scrap of meat will certainly agitate our hosts. I must compliment king Aidar on his level of wisdom. It has certainly grown over the past 50 years.”

Cael Drumain, the prime servant of the king, had kept himself mostly absent of the small verbal scuffle on their table. It didn’t serve his interest to get into the petty arguments about a border issue that would not be resolved at this table anyway. The fact was that he was more concerned by the fact that the Arkronians had placed their delegation on the same table as the Ephan’s. They were certainly aware of the fact of the animosity between the two nations. Had the Vulpin fallen out of favor or did this situation serve as a warning. The ceremonies had not yet officially started but it already proved to become an interesting evening.

Cael turned his head towards his king and started to whisper in his ear. “Peatyr is convinced that the crown prince is gravely ill. He might not live very long. By the information i’ve gathered, the kingdom of Arkron might be at the start of a steep decline. We might not be able to rely on the deterrence from the Arkronians when it comes to the Ephan border question. I think it is wise to use these festivities to strengthen our relations with the Rheatian Republic and the kingdom of Cor. Otherwise we might run the risk of standing alone when the current order fails.”

King Aider turned to his servant and looked a bit annoyed at him. Did Cael really think that he had failed to notice? The old Vulpin was still aware enough of the situation in the Arkronian capital. The wind of change is blowing and would soon swep everything in its path away.

”I agree with your judgement. For too long we’ve isolated ourselves and neglected our foreign relationships. You should engage in a conversation with the Avans and Ruline tonight. Maybe we can find some mutual ground for cooperation.”



“Look at them, just mingling with the other leaders as if they are the true representatives of the Skekari people.” Spoke Lehm Jeteya, the Cynn of the Confederacy of Skekari towards his fellow countrymen at the table. The animosity between the rivaling Skekari nations was well known. Their rivalry was that bitter that they always had joined opposite sides of rebellions throughout their history.

“Yes, if it wasn’t for the Arkronians we could end the triarchs and unify the country under the tribal system. However there are a lot of rumors regarding plague and such. Perhaps the times are changing and an opportunity might arise in the near future to reshape our people’s destiny.” Spoke on of the Skekari clansmen that accompanied the Cynn to the Arkronian capital.

“Perhaps, who is going to keep the Triarchs safe when the Arkronians no longer are capable of doing that? However our current military power is not sufficient to overthrow the Triarchs. We should seek allies and supporters from beyond our lands ” Spoke the Cynn softly.

“I agree. Maybe the Yuravians are interested in an alliance. We’ve fought on the same side during the last rebellion. If the power of the Arkronians is declining, they might be interested in trying to break free from vassalage again. If we want the Skakari to revert back to the old ways, vassalage to the throne is something we should get rid of too.” Whispered the clansman.

The Cynn knew his companion was right. With Yuravian support it would become possible to end the rule of the triarchs and create a unified Skekari nation to fight alongside the rebels against the throne.

“Send to word to the Yuravian confederacy.”


@Yam I Am @Blandina



All parties have their strange guests of whom might wonder why they were invited in the first place. The opening banquet of the coronation festivities for crown prince Rakon-Da was no different. When the political and business elite of the realm would congregate, shady characters would see opportunities to conduct business and would wiggle their way into the place that would normally be reserved for high society only. Peatyr Bretnach, owner of the Palm Beach Bathhouse was such a man.

The concept of a locked door seemed not to apply to him. The dirty secrets he had on many of the attendants of this evening festivities were more than enough to get himself a nice spot on a table with wealthy Arkronian merchants. However he was not interested in what they had to offer. The wealth of the individual merchants paled in comparison of what the Arkronian crown could muster. The coffers of the crown have been the closed thing to a bottomless pit for many years.

The Vulpin merchant casually mingled with the crowd until he had found himself in the area where the vassals were located. He could see the delegation of Vulpinia exchanging pleasantries with the representatives of the Dominion of Epha. As he looked around his eyes found what he was looking for, King William of Cor.

Casually Peatyr Bretnach approached the monarch of the kingdom of Cor.

“The throne of Arkron, twenty five steps into the air the throne towers above all. A seat most unfitting to someone who’s dying of disease, don’t you agree? Many say the stairs were made so that the monarch can look down on his subjects but I rather see it as a symbol. That the ascension to power is a long and difficult climb. It isn’t hard to tell who are going to try the climb but only one can make it to the top. Lets just hope that it will be someone with mild favorite fews for us non-Arkronians. But I fear the worst.



Rakon-Da was leaning on the balcony of his room close to the grand hall. His grey skin was pale and his eyes looked tired. It was clear that the crown prince wasn’t feeling well. As he stared over the courtyard he could hear the healers being busy inside preparing his medicine for tonight. However his mind wasn’t really busy with the healers. He was just staring at the tree that grows next to the balcony, reminiscing about how he used to climb the tree as a young child.

The melancholy thoughts about days that were gone and would never come back were rudely interrupted by the voice of Drokon-Al, the elderly steward of the kingdom of Arkron.

“My liege, it is almost time. The guests have arrived and are seated. Please take your medicine. It will give you some of your strength back for the coming hour. Just remember to return to your room after the second course for a new shot.”

Drokon-Al simply nodded and walked back in. For a moment he stared at the table where all kinds of pots, leafs and other equipment was placed that was required to make his medicine. The potion the healers were brewing wouldn’t do anything to slow down the disease. No, it would simply give the crown prince a sudden rush of energy to help him through the festivities.

As he drank down the fluid from the bottle he could feel his energy return to him, his legs felt more stable and some of the color on his skin returned.

One of the healers quickly spoke. “We’ve placed the bottles on the table. One bottle for every two hours. What is here should be enough to get you through the dinner. We’ll excuse ourselves now. May the gods hold you in favor for eternity my liege.”

With all the guests seated, the Arkronian government officials took their places followed by the six kardinals. Drokon-Al commanded the room to silence. When the last voice had died the old steward rose from his seat.

“All rise for Rakon-Da, crown prince of Arkron.”

With solid steps the crown prince walked towards his seat at the base of the stairs. He looked around and just wondered how many of his guests were aware of how gravely ill he was. Probably more than anyone would admit. But thanks to the medicine he looked better than he actually felt.

Rather than sitting down the crown prince remained standing, standing as firmly as possible in front of the many people that he would share the banquet with tonight. As for this night, he had prepared a speech.

“Alan Arkronis.”

This is a day of something more than just a national consecration. And I am certain that on this day my fellow Mycorian expect that on my coronation as monarch of Arkron, supreme ruler of the realm, I will address them with a candor and a decision which the present situation of our realm impels.

It is preeminently the time to speak the truth, the whole truth, frankly and boldly. Nor need we shrink from honestly facing the conditions in the Kingdom of Arkron today. Our great nation will endure, as it has endured and will help the realm of Mycoria to endure.

So first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is chaos itself. Nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror caused by disease and the ambition to take advantage of those who are struggling. Only in the darkest of times, the people turn to their darkests of thoughts. Once we turn away from the light, only chaos and violence remains.

In such a spirit on my part and on yours we face common difficulties. They concern more than only the kingdom of Arkron. These difficulties concern the very foundation of the peace and stability that has blessed the realm for the past 50 year.

And yet our distress comes from no failure of substance as we are stricken by a plague. A plague that some might see as a blessing or even a justification to turn away from the light that has been guiding the realm on the path of peace and stability. However be not mistaken, those who threaten the order, the foundation on which the realm as whole thrives will be met with vigor and endurance.

However order, peace and stability does not just come from the threats of violence and retribution. It comes from extending your hands for mutual beneficial cooperation. So tonight we do not dine as overlords and vassals but as fellow Mycorians.

The speech of the crown prince came as a shock to many within the Arkronian government. As it was both openly admitting that the kingdom faced great difficulties and that the times were changing. Rakon-Da seemed to recognize more than many hardliners that these changing times required the kingdom to redefine her relations in order to preserve the order that had brought prosperity to its people. It was clear that this historic speech was both extending their hands in friendship while still remaining committed to defending the order. At least for most Rakon-Da seemed to be less of a hardliner than his father.

With the speech over, Rakon-Da sat down on his chair. For a moment the entirety of the grand hall remained silent, as the words spoken by the future king had to sink in. Then the first Arkronians rose hesitantly from their seats, clapped three times and spoke the traditional Arkronian greeting as a sign that they at least somewhat approved the message. The banquet could finally start.

William stirred in his chair after the Vulpin sulked off. He had heard of Peatyr Bretnach before, that he owned one of the larger bath houses in the city. Some called him a connoisseur. But he always felt wrong about him, he watching him from the corner of his eye he could not help but feel he felt off. He didn't belong here, he thought but was mystified as to why no one else seemed to notice. Were there not ceremonies outside for him to partake in?

“Who was that?” Henry asked under his breath, leaning in.

“Just'a fox.”

His gaze drifted over the other tables, watching the odd machinations of power and he thought it odd their hosts did so little to maintain some semblance of order. The interactions between the Vulpin and the paladins from the north appeared to him heated. He leaned over to Matthias and whispered: “Keep an' eye out their way. They might pick a'fight.”

“'an what'll ye want me t'do if they should?”

“Keep us out of it.”

“Yes m'lord.”

For Senator Sessi Dren, the Crown Princes speech confirmed many of her worst fears; not to mention the rumours shared with her by the Arkronian Captain when they had arrived. She had no doubt that those within the Republican faction of the senate would latch onto the speech as a sign of weakness and, since it had been made publicly, there was very little she could do to try and counter the truth now.

Rhaetia, at least in the last forty years, had begun an interesting slide away from holding itself aloof from the its imperial neighbours and focused on bettering the lives of its citizens. More recently, largely thanks to the civil war in neighbouring Canthor, the voices demanding that the right of liberty and freedom for all be extended across the greater Empire.

The ideas were dangerous to Kings and Queens, she knew that. The nobles of neighbouring kingdoms had little interest in sharing power or giving their citizens anything that resembled a part in government. It had only worked in Rhaetia with the withdrawal of Imperial troops and surplus of returning soldiers who forced the republic into life. The sheer number of events that had occurred at the right time and place to allow the existence of a republic at all was staggering.

She looked around the room at the glittering gems, fancy clothes, and arrogant sneer on so many imperial lips and she knew, in that moment, that was would be inevitable. The Republican party was gaining strength among all Rhaetians while the loyalists grew older and fewer every year. Peace, it seemed, was going to be about as sincere as the smiles exchanged between the vassals around her.




Tul Bisner, Senator of Rhaetia and War Hero, grunted as he heaved himself off the young maid, pausing only to wipe his cock on the edge of her dress. Two male servants, 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?” Tul looked at the two servants 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 dress still open for the world to see her shame. The whimpers turned to quiet sobs as she was dragged down the stairs. Tul 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.

A maid flitted into the room and bowed, handing him a clean robe. He quickly dressed, tying the cord about his waist as a third maid appeared to clear away the still glistening bed sheets and replace them with fresh ones at once.

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

A small satin pillow rested on the stone floor in front of the shrine, it bore only a small golden statue of Shakamuni, the goddess of fertility. 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. He was certain the disease he had picked up from the prostitute when he was young was the cause.

He was still on his knees praying when the first of the assassins came over the south wall of the villa. She struck first at the Water Tower, a colossal structure that stood watch over the only bridge providing any access to the fortress. Black shapes flitted up the walls with the aid of grappling hooks and the nominal guard was swiftly overwhelmed in a hail of throwing knives and arrows.

The alarm was not sounded until a sharp eyed sentry on the second story spotted a pair of grappling hooks sail over the outer wall. He managed a shout of warning before he was cut down by the attackers.

“Assassin!” The scream went through the villa like an arrow through cloth. Soldiers of the senators personal guard 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.

“Senator,” A grim faced guard burst into the Tuls' quarters. “We're under attack.”

Tul didn’t hesitate as he ripped his sword from its sheath and hurried to join his men. A sick feeling filled his stomach as he did so. Assassins were rare in Rhaetia but not unheard of. They were famously expensive - someone wanted him dead, and badly.

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 gaurds being driven quickly down the length of the wall by a well prepared and merciless adversary.

A rush of armed servants from a side passage momentarily stalled the assassin attack and furious hand to hand fighting engulfed the lower level of the villa. The gardens - a work of art - were destroyed beneath hurrying feet and blood clouded the small reflecting pool in the centre of the courtyard. Guards hurled themselves at their attackers regardless of their own life and limb and were cut down in droves.

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

“For the King!” He snarled his battle cry, the guards around him taking up the call so their voices melded together in a ferocious roar as they charged the oncoming assassins.

Tul began to chant as he went, a ancient battle song of his Orcish ancestors. His feet felt lighter and it seemed as though everyone around him slowed slightly. He easily blocked the lunge of an assassin, turning his own blade over top of the others to drive the wicked point into the mans eyes. The attackers were clothed completely in black and a vicious swing of his sword the chest of one showed that they wore light chainmail beneath their clothing.

An assassin went down without a sound as Tul moved on, stepping low beneath another attack, driving his own blade upwards so that it split his attacker from groin to shoulder. In an instant the pressure on his forces weakened and then broke altogether as the assassins suddenly retreated the way they had come. Tul gave a yell of victory and, with his guard 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 patio, 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 rush of men behind him were unable to stop and several others were felled by the wicked objects.

A flicker in the darkness and more soldiers collapsed arrows flickered from the darkness, harvesting more lives. Tul tried to shout but a falling servant forced his face down onto a caltrop, a spike stabbing into his jaw.

Soldiers and servants retreated in confusion, driven back through the doorway by more arrows. Tul tried to climb to his feet as a trio of assassins moved swiftly back down the long patio toward him. Their leader, a stocky man with a short slashing sword, made eye contact with Tul and recognition flashed in the dark eyes.

Tul had no time to speak as the assassin stooped and hacked off his head, quickly shoving it into a bag at his waist before giving a sharp whistle. In an instant the assassins melted into the dark and the bloodied villa was left to the survivors.
Tul Bisner

Silence fell on the banquet hall as the emperor arrived. Rising in respect the gathered nobility and their hosts rose to their feet to bow to the crown prince as he moved to the base of the towering throne. Peering up through the corner of his eyes King William could not miss the weakness in his majesty. He looked to be steered by something outside of himself. And while the player sought to hold him up and strong there was a deep frailty within him, a deep aura the emanated from his spirit that no sick man missed. At a distance William thought he could smell the acrid putrid pestilence of the decaying spirit inside of Rakon-Da.

“He doesn't look s'good, father.” he heard Coffey whisper. It was evident. Something was terribly wrong. No wonder the situation was rushed. William briefly pondered if perhaps in some secret bed chamber the priests had rushed a marriage simply to conceive an heir if Rakon-Da were to die and cut short the legacy of his house. William looked away from the ascendant emperor to the young prince and found Coffey was far from formally bowing. There was a wavering suspicion in the room and the formal reception William sensed was mixed. Catching the princes eye Coffey sensed his father was not angry at the lack of formality and eased a little. William looked out over the banquet hall, some seemed to have foregone extending the formalities all together, the former rebel alliance having released their bows entirely. Yet just as many if not many more – particularly of the more minor and vulnerable provinces – seemed to bow even lower, as if their faith in the Emperor could entirely save him entirely from the curse.

“This is a day of something more than just a national consecration. And I am certain that on this day my fellow Mycorian expect that on my coronation as monarch of Arkron, supreme ruler of the realm, I will address them with a candor and a decision which the present situation of our realm impels.” spoke the Emperor. And by the old Gods and the Spirit of The People of Lake Hemden his voice sounded weak William remarked to himself secretly. He projected it, but there was a dry weakness lingering at the back of the emperor ascendant's throat. In previous days, William had known the emperor to be a strong speaker and straight and quick like an arrow. But his voice seemed to waver in its stress as he fought to keep a modicum of simulation to his old voice.

“It is preeminently the time to speak the truth, the whole truth, frankly and boldly. Nor need we shrink from honestly facing the conditions in the Kingdom of Arkron today. Our great nation will endure, as it has endured and will help the realm of Mycoria to endure.” the emperor continued on.

So first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is chaos itself. Nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror caused by disease and the ambition to take advantage of those who are struggling.” and by the god there was the confirmation. The explanation for the secret isolation of the Arkronians and the entire haste of the ceremonies. The conditions of the emperor: the rumors borne true. There indeed was a plague and it was a race to see how far they could all get before the Gods struck down the dynasty and the realm.

As the emperor continued William remembered the Fox and he began to scan the room for him. He searched for Peatyr Bretnach, the one who did not belong. Mathias noticed his lord's unease and the King began to step from the table. Mathias cast his attention about, but all seemed to be looking up at the Emperor with their full morbid attention. Gripping William by the shoulder Mathias steadied him, and a cold shot went down the king's spine. Leaning in the knight whispered: “M'lord you act up. Pray, what is t'matter.”

“A fox is in th'chicken coup.” the king answered him under his breath, “I answer your prayer, a trickery is under foot. I can feel it in m'veins. You have your sword?”

“Ay, that I do m'lord. But for what reason you need t'know” he said, his voice held as low as the gentle rush of autumn winds.

“If something goes t'shit, I may have t'fight out with a candlestick or a table knife. Let us hope th' plead for reconciliation unites this realm then t'kill the assassin where ever he might be.”

“Who, then?”

“A damn fox. Why else would t'sneak try for m' ear!”

Peatyr Breatnach sipped from his wine as he listened to the speech of the crown prince. Historic words were unleashed by Rakon-Da upon his audience. If the crown prince was in better health, he sure would be a gifted speaker. Nonetheless, his speech will be one that would be remembered. Not because of its contents, but because it would be the Arkronian’s famous last words.

The Vulpin’s gaze quickly crossed with those of Ohrahm-Braz, the Arkronian minister of Intelligence. Peatyr considered him the most dangerous man in the Arkronian government. Not because of his physique but because he was one of the few Arkronians who whipped his ass with the rules. Ohrahm-Braz was a man who understood how power really works. He is aware of what motivates people and knows how to apply leverage to get what he wants. A remarkable player in this twisted game of musical chairs. A player whose demise Peatyr would welcome.

As the speech came to an end, Peatyr stood up from his chair, did the formal tree claps and bowed with a small grin on his face. The cogs had set in motion and the faith of Mycoria was now placed in the hands of a single individual. The power to shape the future had been entrusted in the hands of one young man.



As he finished his speech the crown prince looked around the grand hall as he tried to judge the responses. The many Arkronians in the room looked surprised, some even shocked before they proceeded to do the formal claps and bows. The high Paladins of the Ephan dominion just sat silently in their seats as they refused to do the formal response. Other more rebellious vassals did little more to honor their coming overlord. Even the delegation of the kingdom of Cor seemed to slack on the formalities. A sign that concerned Rakon-Da deeply as he was trying to transform the relations to a more equally beneficial way.

As he looked around Rakon-Da felt his head spin. The strength he received from his medicine was already fading. The healers had promised him two hours but he barely made it past his speech. This was not how he had envisioned this night. What should have been a moment of glory was more like a moment of confrontation with the realization that he would never have the health required to be a real ruler of the realm.

As the Arkronian crown prince sat down on his chair he could see the signs of worries on the face of Drokon-Al, the aging steward of Arkron.

” My grace, you probably should get your next dose soon. You look terrible.” Spoke the steward as he turned towards the crown prince.
As Rakon-Da took a sip of his wine, he noticed his hand shaking. The steward was right. He barely had the strength to raise his glass. Damn disease. Slowly he stood up from his table.

”Please excuse me. I have to visit the latrine” Spoke the crown prince as his wobbly legs carried him away. Once more he reminisced about the times that he used to climb the great oak tree next to the balcony. Times that were long gone and would never come back.



Callumn Dubhghail watched how his old king entered the inner building of the Arkronian royal palace. He knew that king Aidar’s live was in danger. He knew because Peatyr Breathnach, a fellow Vulpin, had told him so. To save his king’s live was the reason the young warrior volunteered to carry the gifts for the Arkronians. That was the only way he could come close to the inner courtyard. Getting there was just the first step of the plan that had been laid out for him.

With a sense of amazement he looked around. The crowd in front of the entrance was huge and a mixture of every race and peoples that Mycoria has to offer. Even though there were lots of Arkronian guards on the passway, there were just simply too many people moving in all directions to keep an eye on. Sneaking out of their sight would not be much of a difficult task.

‘When you have the inner building in your back, take the right courtyard passage but stick to the treeline. Hide in the shadows and behind the perfectly crafted bushes. There are Arkronian guards patrolling the inner courtyard. Count the balconies, the fifth one has a large oak tree next to it. This is the balcony of the room the assassin is receding in. In the oak tree, there is a cavity. There you will find the tool to use. Climb the tree to get access to the balcony. During the festivities he will frequently retreat to his room. That is when you need to strike.’

The young Vulpin remembered every word of the plan that was made to save his king. He needed to do it. No one else was aware of the danger and no one else in a position to do anything about it. This was Callumns task. He would safeguard his king from the shadows.

Quickly the young Vulpin slipped away from the crowd and into the bushes of the palace’s courtyard. He could feel his heart racing as he looked back to see if any of the Arkronians were following him as this part of the courtyard was offlimit for the guests. Callumn let out a sigh as he noticed no movement in the guards and started to make his way towards his target.

He passed the first balcony without much problems as the courtyard was mostly deserted and most of the rooms in both the inner and the outer building seemed to be empty. However his heart suddenly stopped when he noticed an Akronian patrol coming around the corner. Quickly Callumn ducked behind the bushes, closely watching the large grey men as his heart raced in his throat.

Silently the young Vulpin sat in his hiding spot as the grey men passed him by. Just as he was about to continue his journey he stepped on a small branch. The crackling sound filled the air and suddenly the patrol halted. Callumn made himself even smaller in an attempt to not be spotted.

“Did you hear that?” Spoke one of the Arkronian guards.

“Probably just a squirrel or something. They tend to get active around these hours.”
“We should check it out anyway. That’s our job.” Spoke the first guard as he started to walk towards the bushes Callumn was hiding in.

With every step that the Arkronian guard took the Vulpin’s heart skipped a beat. Every step of the man was a step closer to getting detected. Anxiously Callumn awaited what seemed to be inevitable at this point. However much to his surprise the other guard called his companion away. As if a higher power stepped in to safeguard the young Vulpin.

It didn’t take long before Callumn noticed the fifth balcony and the large oak tree. Quickly the young Vulpin walked around it and found the cavity. Slowly he moved his hand inside in search for the tool needed for the job. This was the place Peatyr had described and here should the dagger be located.

It didn’t take long for his hand to stumble upon the cold steel and the ivory grip. Quickly he pulled the dagger out and looked at it. The beautifully crafted steel glows in the moonlight. The small curving and the rich decorations made the dagger look foreign to Callumn. He was sure of it that this dagger wasn’t of Vulpin origine nor created by the Arkronians. In a way, it reminded him of a dagger his brother once showed him. A dagger created by the Yuravians.

For a moment the young warrior stared at the dagger in his hand. The fact that it was a recognizable piece tied to a certain country made Callumn feel uncomfortable. As if there was more to this story than just an assasination attempt on the old Vulpin king. Doubt filled his mind about this task. But this was no time for second guessing the intelligence that he had received. What if he chooses to abandon the task because of this eerie feeling only to see his king getting assassinated? Could he really live with himself knowing he had failed once again? No, he had to push through, just to be safe.

Quickly Callumn placed the dagger between his teeth and started to climb the oak tree. The first part was a bit difficult but once he reached the branches the climb was more easy. However the cracking of the branches under his weight made the Vulpin a bit nervous, as if they were barely strong enough to hold his weight. A Ruline or Arkronian would definitely be too heavy for the branches. Even an adult male human might be too much.

From his spot in the tree, the young warrior observed the balcony door. It was mostly made of glass and offered a good view on the room. It looked empty. Callumn was unsure of what to do. Should he already move to the room and wait there? Or stay in the tree until the target would enter the room? As he overthought the situation the answer already presented itself. A beam of light illuminated the room inside and a large person stepped in, only to close the door behind him. This was the young Vulpin’s opportunity!

Silently he climbed from the tree onto the balcony. A quick glance through the window told Callumn that his target had not noticed him. On the contrary, the large Arkronian seemed to be busy with some veils and elixirs. His hands reached for the balcony door and much to the young warrior’s delight they were not locked. ”For king Aidar” whispered the Vulpin as he dashed through the door.

With three steps Callumn had closed the distance. He could now clearly see the Arkronian who he was about to murder. The man’s skin looked unusually pale, his eyes tired and from upclose it was clear that the man had seen better days. With all his might the small Vulpin stabbed the dagger into the left chest of his victim. This man had to die in order for king Aidair to live through the night. That is what he was told and that was the information that he acted upon. He had sworn an oath to protect his king and this was his way of honoring it. Or at least that is what Callumn kept telling himself.

Time slowed down as the Vulpin warrior stabbed his victim in the hearth. The shock and surprise were all over the Arkronian’s face as blood from the wound started to make stains in his fancy robes before he started to collapse towards the floor. In the nick of time Callumn managed to catch his victim before he hit the ground. Only then the young Vulpin realized that this man was much lighter then he’d expect him to be. As if he had lost a lot of weight due to an illness.

As he silently laid the dead Arkronian on the floor, Callumn expected that he should feel rejoice. A sense of accomplishment because he managed to kill the assassin before he could lay his hands on king Aidar. And yet there was none of that. No rejoice, no joy, no happiness. Just doubt.

As quickly as the Vulpin entered the room, he left it the same way. Leaving the dagger behind in the chest of his victim.



As the first course of the banquet was served, Drokon-Al, steward of Arkron, looked to the door that leads to the chamber of the crown prince. It was a while ago that Rakon-Da had left the grand hall to get another shot of his medicine. The effects should have kicked in already and the crown princes absence for a sanitary stop would soon feel too long. Concerned about the wellbeing of the man of the hour, the steward excused himself and left to the same door.
With quick steps the elderly Arkronian made his way through the hallway.
The light of the candles casted a shadow over the walls, like the darkness that loomed over the Arkronian kingdom.

As Drokon-Al went around the corner he could see the two guards still standing at the door, with their backs straight and hands on the handle of their swords. Both stood silently as was expected of them.

“Is the crown prince still inside?” Inquired the steward.

”Alan Arkronis. Yes my lord. The crown prince has entered his chamber but has not left yet.”

The old steward stepped to the door and knocked. But only silence was the result. Once more Drokon-Al knocked on the door and spoke loudly.

”My grace, it’s me, Drokon-Al. Is everything alright?”

But once again, there was no answer. His hand reached for the door and pushed it open. The scene that unfolded horrified the old steward. His gray face turned pale white at the sight of Rakon-Da, crown prince of the great kingdom of Arkron, dead on the floor with a knife in his chest.

Drokon-Al had known since the day he was diagnosed that the crown prince would die sooner than later. But he never imagined in this way on this day. This was not only a great loss for the kingdom, but a great loss for the steward as well. He had known the crown prince since birth and he shared a mentor student relationship with him since a young age. He could feel the tears in his eyes and yet he knew that this was not the time to mourn. The crown prince was assassinated and this was a crisis that needed to be managed.

”Sound the alarm. Place the entire palace under lockdown. Nobody leaves and nobody enters without my permission. Also lock the grand hall. None of our guests are allowed to leave. For their own safety of course. Also inform the Inquisitio. I’ll inform the government members. Do not let anyone enter the room!” Ordered the Steward as he rushed back to the grand hall.

As Drokon-Al entered the grand hall, the sound of alarm bells filled the air and dozens of Arkronian soldiers entered the hall through various doors, All taking positions near the exits and outskirts of the room.

”Honored guests. Unfortunately there has been a security incident and the palace has been placed under lockdown until further notice. You will not be able to leave the grand hall. Please enjoy the food and wine.” With those words spoken, Drokon-Al and the other government members left for an emergency meeting, leaving the guests flabbergasted.



”A case, A case! Yes! Praise the gods of chaos and order for this beauty of a case!” Proclaimed the Arkronian as he had received the order to investigate the assasination of the crown prince. Mondrian-Na seemed very pleased with the case he had just been handed as he stood up from his desk and made his way to the scene of the crime.

”Sir, it’s the crown prince we’re talking about. It would be wise to uhm, you know….. Talk about it with the proper respect. This is a serious situation, Modrian-Na.” Spoke the other Arkronian in a desperate attempt to tone down the excitement of Modrain-Na, most famous Inquisitor of Arkron.

”Nonsens, getting assasinated is what royalty does. Always plotting to get more power and to take it away from others. Getting assassinated is just another hazard of the job.”

”Modrain-Na, do I really need to remind you that assasination of Arkronian royalty is extremely rare in our history?”

”Yes, I agree, it does not happen enough. Us Arkronians need to step up our game.” Spoke Modrain-Na joyously as he left his office.

Quickly the inquisitor made his way through the palace hallways, closely followed by his colleague Moshram-Or, who once again shook his head in disdain about Modrain-Na’s joyful demeanor about the whole situation. Did that man truly believe his own words? Many said about Modrain-Na that he just lived for the thrill of the chase and did not care for anything else.

As the two inquisitors approached the room of the crown prince the guard quickly recognized the gold chain with the symbol of the Inquisition around the two Arkronian’s necks. Raised his hands to do the formal greeting but was cut short by Modrain-Na.

”Who has entered the room?”

”No one since the Steward found him, sir”

”Good, now keep your mouth shut because nothing intelligent will come out of it” Spoke Modrain-Na sarcastically as he entered the room.

Both men scanned the room as they started their investigation. No matter how good an assassin was, there were always traces left behind that could lead to him. However, for the top branch of the government getting the assassin himself was not enough. They wanted the man who gave the order. And to get to the man in the shadows, they had to first find the assassin.

” So, what do you think? The dagger is clearly made in Yuravia. Spoke Moshram-Or as he kneeled down next to the dead body of the crown prince. ”I’ll send out the order to arrest the entire Yuravian delegation, their household guard and servants so that we can put them on trial.”

Mondrian-Na just smiled as he looked at the blade. Once again his colleague was missing all the vital details and was only noticing the obvious one, that the dagger was of Yuravian origine. But what truly matters was the way it was trusted into the body. It gives away all kinds of information about who handled it.

”Wrong!” Proclaimed Modrain-Na in his usual sarcastic demeanor. ”The blade is trusted into the hearth at a steep angle. That indicates that the assassin was significantly smaller. Judging from the size of the crown prince and the angle at which the blade entered the body I would say that the assassin would be around 160 centimeters in height. The average Ascarian male is around 180 centimeters. If an Ascarian would be the assassin, the angle of entry would be less steep. So we have to look for different races. Humans, Ruline, Aegire, Orcs and Arkronians are all too big. Dwarfs are too heavy to climb the oak tree so that leaves us with Skekarii, Avans, Saa’kaaleed and Vulpin. Avans come in different sizes but they have one thing in common, feathers. Did you find any feathers in the room? No feathers but I did find some hairs between the body and the balcony. So we can rule out a Saa’kaaleed as our assassin as well. That leaves us with Skekarii and Vulpin. Now come closer and take a look at this strain of hair. Does this look like something that would grow on the head of a Skekarii?”

Moshram-Or tried to follow the verbal machine gun volley that came out of Modrain-Na’s mouth as good as possible. Always when that man talked about his deductions it would go like this. Way too fast, way too much information. As he took the train of hair from Modrain-Na he noticed the length, structure and coloring. The yellow-brownish hair wasn’t like anything that would grow on the head of a Skekarii, it was something that you would expect in the fur coat of a Vulpin.

”Clearly Vulpin. But why would the kingdom of Vulpinia do such an act. It seems hard to believe that they can gain anything from it, especially when they try to shift the blame to the Yuravians.”

”Just because the assassin is a Vulpin does not mean that king Aidar is the one who gave the order. Their kingdom might actually not be involved. It could just as well be a hired mercenary. However, it would be hard for any lone Vulpin to enter the palace, especially this deep. So it is still plausible that the assassin is a member of the Vulpin delegation acting on behalf of a 3th party. Have you found the scabbard?, This kind of dagger always has a scabbard.”
”No. No scabbard in the room. Why is it important?” Responded Moshram-Or.

Mondrian-Na looked annoyed at his colleague. Did he truly not understand the importance of the scabbard? Any assassin worth its coin would ditch it. Walking around with an empty scabbard belonging to a decorated Yuravian dagger that is found in the hearth of the Arkronian crown prince would be like screaming in public that you’ve killed the king. It was not the object you would want to walk around with when the palace is in lockdown. Nor do you want it to be found close to you. So it would make perfect sense to ditch the scabbard at the crime scene and yet it was not here.

”because you can’t walk around with an unsheathed dagger with all the guards around and we haven’t found it in his room or close to the balcony. So the scabbard must be somewhere else, waiting to be found. Order a search of all guest villa’s, arrest the servants and guards of the Yuravian and Vulpin delegations and write a report of our preliminary findings for Ohram-Braz.” Ordered Modrain-Na as he left the room.

As the speech came to a close and the celebrations and commemorations of the changing of the crown drew to its next stage, William sat over rich bounty of food set before him by the staff of the palace. From the corner of his eye he watched the new Emperor stiffly retire from the banquet. The man who had entered a peafowl rooster, with all the boistrous color of imperial selection and musical announcement slipped out from the hall as quietly as a mouse. William noted his slouch, his low shoulders, the hobbled and tired way he was walking. Whatever it was that held the prince aloft was clearly failing to William's eyes.

He lifted some food to his mouth and reached for the glass of wine as the prince left. His eyes scanning across the opulent golden tables being continuously loaded down with all types of plates and dishes and their ravenous, gluttonous guests. No matter the status of those here, they poured themselves out on the table as any rude peasant may, no matter how daintily they held their utensils William thought to himself. With outreached arms they sought after the largest leg of goose and duck they would in searching for the choicest opportunities in intrigue. As they would spill the blood of soldiers and levees, they spilled wine and punch from their goblets. They fought over the stuffed fowl and birds as they would a city or a town on the border. There was a struggle over the table as there were struggles over rivers. While they held themselves to be polite, the struggle to put one's self over the other was a shadow puppet's play against the white marbled walls of the great banquet hall.

“Th' sword is th' extension o' courtly negotiations. Th' reaching hand at th' banquet between nobility is th' same. Watch as they carry out their custom and are polite. But from here, from this table y'can see it clear: they hate each other. Th' Empire in all its evil has been th' only thing keeping them from gutting one anothe'. But th' hubris of th' high is their own downfall. They will smile an' apologize but all th' same it is naught but another moment t' impress the others and organize themselves according to th' percieved superiority; one against th' other. This is nothing alien to either of us. You are lord as th' rest of them. And perhaps – look to th' side, the left an' th' right – see your neighbors. Are they better? Are they worse? Ay', you have a good family, a good court. Perhaps not th' best. There are those here as good. But it is know, we have seen th' Emperor. He is weak.”

“Shut up.” William said in a low voice as he beat his beak into a leg of goose. Hot sweat juices spat into his mouth. He could feel it drip, he dabbed the underside of his beak with the back of his hand. Sweet honey, crisp rosemary. There was an added flavor of wood smoke, perhaps maple. The skin broke with a crisp salty crackle. He could feel the small feathers of his hackle raise in the rich delight. It was always a pleasure.

“Pardon m'lord?” Mathias said from behind William, having barely caught what it was William had said. He leaned forward, clutching close to his chest the wrap he had made for himself from stuffing some flat bread.

“Nothing.” William said dismissively. But he could see from the corner of his eyes that his children had caught something and were looking aside as to discover what happened.

“Nah good king William it is not a good idea to ignore what y'know. All bad things stem from th' intrigue of man and creature. But the far reach of their capers are blunted by imperial shield, whose hammer smashes all 'fore it's built. But when th' imperial mallet is softened? What then becomes o'th' spears an' th' knives. We are not yet finished.”

There was a sudden sound of a horn that cut the banquet and everyone stopped their singing and their talking to turn to the imperial signal. Standing off to the side in the elaborate livery of the palatial nobility the court steward stood erect and proper with his hands clasped in front of him. His tunic and cape appearing unruffled. And though he kept a steady face, there was a troubled disposition nested softly in the manner of his flush cheeks and pronounced jowl. “Honored guests.” Drakon-Al announced stiffly, “Unfortunately there has been a security incident and the palace has been placed under lock down until further notice. You will not be able to leave the grand hall. Please enjoy the food and wine.”

There was a murmur of confusion among the dinner guests that turned to shock and a spark of horror as guards and soldiers began filing into the banquet hall with spears raised high. Their heavy armor rattling out its martial songs as they took up position. Mathias looked out at them disturbed and stunned. William could only sit frozen, a morsel of food hanging from his fingers. He felt his appetite drain from him, as if he had any to speak of and was not eating out of the ceremony. The princes themselves were visibly disturbed.

In the coldness of the back of his mind William could hear the voice say, “Th' seem of history has been cut. Th' yards are free.”

The emperor's speech was nothing incredibly suprising to the Triarchs, rumors had been reaching the royal court for several weeks from various traders speaking about the things they had witnessed, but for it to be officially acknowledged by the Arkronian court was a suprising thing indeed. The representatives of every nation seemed to respond with barely veiled excitement for their potential gains or with grimaces for their potential losses. The Triarchs met this speech with concern.

Vahn gave a look to the representatives of the confederacy, their long time rival and arguably the biggest threat to the stability of the Triarchate, before returning his focus to his table

"We'll have to stregnthen our border forces if what the Emperor says is true, the Jeteya are always looking for any chance they can get to strike at us. If the Arkronians are really in a situation serious enough that they're not just trying to cover it up, we might not be able to depend on their aid for some time."
"We can dominate the coasts and the mountain clans are more than capable of putting up a fight, worst case scenario we could wittle them down in a war of attrition. For all its posturing the confederacy doesnt have the men to match us, the plains tribes can either take shelter in the cities or hit and run. That said, even if the Arkronians are down for the count I can't imagine the Cynn would be willing to try something so risky as attacking us alone, they're just as dependant on foreign allies as we are."
"Unfortunately for us their foreign allies are signifcantly closer than our are. We're not exactly popular in our region of Mycoria, The Saa'Kaleed and the Yuravians are both likely candidates for confederate allies. We'd still have naval dominance on our side, but it would be difficult to maintain our supply and construction lines if we're facing a three front invasion."
"It may be best for us to reduce the area we have to defend. . . Perhaps if things continue as they are now we should consider withdrawing our forces from Kho, our colonies there are still young enough as to not be particularly productive and we already have the clans there fighting against us, in war it's nothing more than a staging ground to get closer to our heart lands if we try and keep it secure. Depending on the time frame we find ourselves in in such a situation that may mean leaving the colonists behind, but it's easier to replace a few colonists and a weak land claim than it is four hundred years of centralization.
"That's. . . a shockingly bleak view from you Haster. I think that's a discussion for another time, for now we should at least try to enjoy the feast. From the looks of King William and his goose leg it seems to be delicious.

At that the Skekarii rejoined the other delegations at their table in eating and drinking. many of the fruits and animals provided by the numerous wait staff were familiar to the court, exotic animals and spice found only in the jungles of Skekaria, all of which would have had to have been exceptionally expensive to have transported all the way to the capital. Beyond the Skekarii goods there were still many more dishes that were nearly or completely foreign to the Triarchs from all corners of Mycoria. To the lower classes such a feast would have seemed almost insultingly oppulent, but the assembled nobility understood well the importance of power plays and image.
After some time the conversation in the room returned to its more typically pleasant tone, the emperor's notable absence being more or less overshadowed by the splendor of the occasion, glamour being the excellent tool of distraction that it is. The pleasantries were not to last.

”Honored guests. Unfortunately there has been a security incident and the palace has been placed under lockdown until further notice. You will not be able to leave the grand hall. Please enjoy the food and wine.”

"I take it we're not returning to the villa anytime soon?"



Prince Yie woke to the sounds of clashing swords and shouts from the city walls. With a slow yawn and a stretch he got out of bed and waited for his chamber servant to bring him his morning fruit and bread, as well as the daily briefing. As he waited he thought on what had brought him to this far end of the world. In many ways he was a lot like his father, or so he had always been told. He was tall for a Skekarii and had the sandy skin and freckled complexion common to many in the Wya clan, but where his father was content to maintain his lot, Yie had ambition.
The island of Kho had been formally granted to the Skekarii Triarchate nearly fifty years ago in the aftermath of the third rebellion, but no serious efforts to colonize it had been made until the past few years. It was a rugged land with rough seas and sheer cliffs for a coastline, nothing like the hospitable shores of Wyacannae. Still, it was part of the ancestral lands of the Skekarii people and for that reason it was decided that it was to be brought into the fold. As one of the last acts of Queen Kahnys Ae the colonial city of Vosya was established on the south-western coast of the island in an effort to administer and oversee the incorporation and development of Kho. Many governors had been sent and many had failed, there was simply too much resistance from the natives, but eventually the continual importing of settlers from the mainland beat the odds and Vosya was now well on its way to becoming a vibrant metropolis, safe and productive, an excellent staging point for any noble desiring to prove themselves before the court. Or, at least, thats what the letter he had recieved from Haster upon her innauguration had said.
The idea that someone over a decade his younger had risen to the throne before him frustated Yie, but she was still Queen- and a popular one at that- and if she was offering him a position of governorship at a significant post then he was hardly in a role to refuse. So Yie took the role and boarded a ship to the colony, eager to build his own reputation independant of his status as prince.
Vosya was nothing like he had expected. The thriving metropolis was little more than several crisscrossing roads and a small set of stone walls, a city of perhaps fewer than five or six thousand people. Far from being safe and secure the city experienced raids and skirmishes with native resistance on a nearly daily basis, but despite the setbacks Yie was determined to turn the colony into what he had been promised.
That was nearly three years ago and the sounds of alarm had become little more than background noise, though perhaps less frequent than they had first been.
"Your grace, your breakfast is ready. The steward asks that I inform you of news from the capital, it seems that their radiances have arrived safely in the Imperial Capital. It seems the Arkronians have also recieved a delegation from the Confederacy."

---

"Well, now it's a party..." Senator Sessi Dren said, more to herself than anyone else, as Arkronian soldiers filled the room.

"I suppose they could have killed us long ago if they wanted to?" One of her aides remarked, glancing about at the other delegations were whispering among themselves already. "What do you think happened?"

"Well, my guess is someone died. I doubt even the Arkronians are foolish enough to so inconvenience diplomatic parties without a very, very good reason, and I can't think of a better one. In fact, it is likely the only reason."

"Simple deduction." Said a third party member and a murmur of agreement went around the group.

"Things are going to get very heated at home," Sessi continued to speak, though quietly enough that her colleagues had to lean in to listen. "With the Arkronians getting weaker, it will strengthen the Republican faction in the senate."

"Senator Bisner would never allow it. He may use the news to argue that we must strengthen our ties with the Crown and support them in their time of crisis."

"He alone has been holding the Royalists together the last few years. Without him, the Royalists will likely collapse and resort to infighting as they always have. The Republicans won't even have to try and force them apart. At the end of the day, they're a bunch of old has-beens."

More soldiers were coming into the room and, despite the long history of Rhaetian and Arkronian friendship, Sessi couldn't help the queasy feeling building in her stomach. While Drokon-Al had given nothing away, the faces of the guards was enough. They said nothing but all of them seemed greyer than usual and she could see anxiety in their features. Something really bad had happened.

"I don't think this is just anyone who died. Look it the soldiers. They're trying to remain calm but you can feel the tension. Where is the Crown Prince?"

"You don't think...?" A gasp slipped out before it could be suppressed.

"That he's sick or dead? Yes. He looked like shit when he excused himself earlier. Now he's not back and we're surrounded instead by nervous soldiers will slaughter us in an instant, with or without orders, I suspect. Just stay seated no matter what and follow my lead."

The other nodded and Sessi swallowed the panic she felt welling up in her throat.

---

"Shit..." First Consul Kohu Dosit was staring down at the headless corpse of Senator Tul Bisner, oblivious to the nearly ankle deep blood that he stood in.

At least sixty other bodies, including eleven attackers, were scattered throughout the Bisners villa. part of the building had been burned, whether by accident or by some plan on the part of the attackers, Dosit could not say for certain.

"Shit." He said it again, louder this time, as he looked from Bisners body to the corridor opening onto the wall. It looked like a slaughter house.

"All the attackers are Ruline." The voice was of Vigiles Abaward, one of the men charged with commanding the city watch. He spat to clear the taste of violent death from his mouth. "None of them marked, all wearing black with thin chainmail beneath. Same thing we've seen before." He was referring to several assassinations that had taken place four years ago when a rash of senators had been killed .

"It is not the same thing!" Dosit found himself snarling at the bigger Ruline - his red scales turning even darker as he vented his rage - stepping forward as the other retreated in shock.

"The leader of arguably the most powerful faction in this Republic winds up dead, his head hacked off, even as we have a delegation in Arkronia, and you think its the same fucking thing!?" Dosits voice was a scream and the other flinched from spittle that spattered the front of his leather armour.

"First Counsel, I only meant that it was the same type of attackers." Abaward protested, totally taken aback by the fury that broke over him.

"I know, I am sorry." Dosit cursed inwardly as he grappled to get control of himself. "But this is not the same thing. There are bigger works afoot here. We are teetered so precariously on the edge of war that we cannot have this sort of thing occurring."

Abaward nodded. He knew Senator Luunri Greanad would pay good money for whatever information he could glean from the First Counsel and so he shook his head. "No need to apoplogize, First Counsel. I am sure it is a stressful time."

"You have no idea." Dosit had pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, his eyes closed. "It'll be war with Canthor if we have any more weakening of the Royalists and there won't be a damn thing I can do about it. First Counsel or no."

He suddenly seemed to realize he was standing in blood and grimaced as he stepped onto dry stones, his sandals coming free with a wet plop. A thousand thoughts were whirling through his head and he could only hope that Sessi, enjoying her all expense paid trip to the Capital, was having a better time than he was. With any luck, and maybe a bit of help from the Gods, she would bring back good news thaty could help stabilize the political situation.

---

"Bisner is dead." Greanad said with a smile as she leaned back in the hammock that hung outside her country villa. The ground here dropped off into a deep canyon and she hung perilously close to the edge. It excited her somehow, to be so close to death.

No one else was around and she let the short note fall from her fingers so that it vanished into the canyon below. It had come in by messenger raven a few short minutes ago and already a feeling of excitement was welling up in her gut.

There would not doubt be an investigation into her arch-rivals death but they would find her hands clean. She had simply whispered in three places that she sought his death. Others had done the deed to gain favour with her. It was perfect.

With Bisner dead, the Royalists would be unable to agree on a new leader. The only thing that gave them power anymore was their link to the Arkronian Crown, and everyone knew now of the plague. How widespread and fatal it was, no one really knew. Greanad would have to act carefully.

She took a deep breath, the smell of the deep stone valley below helped to centre her. She would have to call a session of the Senate quickly to continue destabilizing the Royalists. She almost felt bad for Dosit. The poor bastard had his work cut out for him.

Palace guards and Arkronian soldiers swarmed the Royal Palace’s courtyard in orderly fashion. Accompanied by members of the Inquisitio they searched all the guest villa’s for the missing scabbard of the Yuravian dagger that was found in the chest of the crown prince. Mondrian-Na was certain of it that it would be found inside one of the houses that was currently the residence of one of the vassals delegations.

Followed by 30 Arkronian soldiers Modrain-Na and Moshram-Or made their way to the Vulpin residence. Their orders were clear, arrest all Vulpin and search the villa for evidence of the Vulpin king’s involvement in the assasination. ”Do you think we will find the scabbard with the Vulpin? That would seem far too easy Asked Moshram-Or.

Mondrian-Na smiled. ”That would be a rather unsatisfying end to this case. I suspect it will be found somewhere else.”

The two grey investigators noted the confused looks on the Vulpin’s faces when they entered the villa. It wasn’t an everyday sight that 30 heavily armed Arkronian soldiers came to arrest an official diplomatic delegation. However after some verbal resistance the Fox-like people submitted without a fight.

The Inquisitio looked closely as the soldiers lined all the Vulpin up. They counted 10 servants and 36 warriors. Only 50 Vulpin entered the city according to the records. With the king and his three companions in the grand hall that meant that they had the entire Vulpin delegation in sight.

Mondrian-Na held a small glass tube next to his lantern. Inside of it was one of the Vulpin hairs he had found inside the Crown Prince's chamber. Once more the Arkronian investigator looked towards the yellow brownish color and texture of the hair before looking at the line of Vulpin in front of him.

Slowly he walked towards the start of the line and looked at the first Vulpin. A female and from the way she was dressed she was clearly a servant. Probably some chamber maiden or cook. Her fur pattern had shades of orange and brown and looked nothing like the hairs he had found at the scene of the crime. Mondrian-Na waved at one of the soldiers and pointed to the girl before saying ”Dungeon” as a statement of where to hold this specific prisoner.

He made his way further down the line and with each Vulpin he inspected he would usher the word ”Dungeon.”. None of the Vulpin he inspected so far seemed to have the right fur color. He continued to send these creatures to the dungeons until Modrain-Na found himself in front of a young warrior with rather remarkable features. A relatively small statue for a Vulpin, large ears and a yellow brownish fur pattern. The empty sheath on his side was a clear indication that this young Vulpin man was a warrior in the king’s warband. Mondrian-Na smiled as he pointed at him and spoke ”My office.”



Ohram-Braz, the Arkronian minister of intelligence had been working in his office since the moment the crown prince was found murdered in his chambers. Some of his fellow ministers considered this successful assasination an intelligence failure, but he knew better. It was the minister of intelligence himself who had arranged the assasination.

Three quick knocks on the door awakened Ohram-Braz from his work. He turned his head towards the large wooden door and quickly shouted ”Enter.” As the door opened he watched the two members of the Arkronian Inquisitio enter his office. Mondrian-Na and Moshram-Or entered the office.

”Alan Arkronis, minister. You have asked for us to personally report the progress to you personally, minister of Intelligence Ohram-Braz.” Spoke Moshram-Or quickly before his colleague could say a word. Moshram-Or preferred to take the word when dealing with the higher ups in the Arkronian hierarchy as Modrain-Na’s demeanor has a habit of pissing off those who are above them.

”Alan Arkronis. Please inform me of your findings. Spoke the minister. Not only was he curious about the progress of the investigation. He also wanted to know what both investigators of the crown actually knew. If they would come too close to the truth, he might need to dispose of them.

Mondrian-Na looked at the minister of intelligence. He never trusted the man. Some said Ohram-Braz was the most dangerous man in the Arkronian kingdom. Sly as a Vulpin and lacking any sense of morality to hold him back. The Arkronian minister was as cold and calculating as a machine. The Inquisitor was fully aware that the man in front of him would spin this investigation in such a way that it would have the most favorable outcome, politically.

With a swift move Modrain-Na dropped a pack of papers on the minister's desk. ”Our report with the preliminary findings.”

Quickly Ohram-Braz scanned through the document.

”So, a Vulpin is responsible for killing the crown prince with an Ascari dagger. You can tie him to the crown princes chamber by analysis of hairs found. Why did he do it?”

”Well, he confessed during the interrogation. He said he was tricked into believing that the man in the chamber was an assassin send to kill the Vulpin king. Apparently Peatyr Breatnach convinced him of the threat to his king.”

The minister of intelligence looked up from his papers to both men in front of him. ”That sounds as a rather unconvincing story”

”Well, he told this story during interrogation and stuck with it during the torture fase. According to Arkronian law his confession is torture approved. Also other Vulpin have confirmed that the suspect has escorted Cael Drumain, prime servant of King Aidar to Peatyr Breatnach’s bathhouse.”

”So we have a strong case against the Vulpin assassin. He will burn at the stake for his crime. And how is the Yuravian Confederation involved in this?” Asked Ohram-Braz

”Apart from the used weapon, we were unable to find any evidence of their involvement. The delegation members we arrested and interrogated could not be tied to the crime, the Vulpin suspect or Peatyr Breatnach. However we did find the missing scabbard in the villa of the Saa’kaaleed Abiat. I suggest we arrest Peatyr Breatnach at the coronation banquet and investigate his involvement.” Spoke Moshram-Or rather timid

Both inquisitors were aware of the complicated situation of the Vulpin bathhouse owner. That man was both a threat and an asset to the crown at the same time. No other person could supply the amounts of information that he had done the ministry of intelligence and yet every Arkronian in the room knew that that wretched Vulpin also supplied information in the opposite direction.

”No!” Spoke Ohram-Braz resolutely. ”Your request to arrest Peatyr Breatnach is denied! I will deal with that man myself. You two arrange the arrests of the delegations of Vulpinia, Yuravian Confederation and the Saa’kaaleed Abiat. Drag them in chains from the banquet.”

Ohram-Braz watched as the two men left his office. For a moment he thought deeply about the situation. It was time for him to meet some of the suspects in person. The minister had a lot to arrange so that the coming trail would go as he had planned.

While most of the palace staff was rushing due to the recent events, Ohram-Braz leisurely walked through the corridors of the huge Arkronian royal palace. The royal palace was much more thenLeisurely the home of the king. The huge complex was also the center of the government of the Arkronian state. All the administrative branches had offices inside the many buildings of the complex.

”Alan Arkronis, minister Ohram-Braz. You seem awfully relaxed for such a fateful evening” Was suddenly spoken.

The minister of Intelligence turned around to stare in the prying eyes of Drokon-Al, the aging steward of Arkron. The only reason that the old man would be in this part of the complex was to gain information on the ongoing investigation.

”Alan Arkonins, lord steward. Yes, I am very capable of keeping my composure in such challenging times as these. That is why I am the minister of intelligence. What brings you to these parts of the Palace?”

Drokon-Al looked at the Arkronian minister in front of him. He always seemed to haven an answer ready for every question and never showed any emotion when he doesn’t want to. That man was truly competent for his job. It was this competence that worried the old steward. Now with the crown prince dead, his interests might no longer be aligned with the interests of the state.

”Yes, so it seems. A true asset in your field of work. I came to inform you that the ministers will meet in an hour and expect a report on the progress of the investigation.”

”I see, I am grateful that you took it upon yourself to inform me personally of this meeting. I will ofcourse attend and give a full report. I am confident that we can start prosecuting the perpetrators starting tomorrow. But you’ll have to excuse me for now. I still have a lot of work to finish. It was a pleasure to meet you here, lord steward.

Ohram-Braz was pretty sure the words of Drokon-Al were lies. Informing ministers of a meeting was not a job the steward had to do himself. For such matters there were dozens of aides. If that man was here, he was trying to get into contact with investigators of the Inquisitio and thus was not trusting the information that Ohram-Braz himself was supplying to the council of ministers. That might become problematic for the minister of intelligence.

As he watched the steward move around the corner Ohram-Braz continued his way. There was still some business to be taken care of before the big day. Business that had brought him to the dungeons deep below the building of the Inquisitio.

The minister of intelligence opened up the door to the warden’s office and stared at the grey man who was sitting behind a desk. ”And?” asked Ohram-Braz as his piercing gaze met with the warden who almost launched himself from his chair upon the sudden entrance of the minister.

”A.. A.. Alan Arkronis, minister. I did not expect your arrival so early.” murmured the startled warden as he looked in surprise at his superior.

”Cut the formalities and report on the progress”

”A yes.. Minister. Those Ascarii were lots of work but we’ve found some volunteers to work with. It required a lot of persuasion though. Unfortunately not every Ascari survived the business meetings with Jarad-Ka, our most skilled torturer.”

”Good. And the Vulpin?”

”Which one, minister? We’ve got a few dozen in here” Responded the warden.

”Which one do you think, you idiot? The one who killed the crown prince ofcourse. The others are of little use!”. Responded Ohram-Braz.



Callumn Dubhghaill stared at the heavy wooden door that marked the only exit of the cell he had found himself into. The cold stone walls marked the border of what was now his small but entire world. Near the top of the wall, a small hole with strong steel bars provided the only view of what lies beyond the Arkronian dungeon he had found himself into. A comforting view of the evening moon.

As the young Vulpin warrior sat down in the far corner of his cell he watched how the blood drips from the various wounds on his body and hands he had received from torture. His entire body aches and yet he felt so numb. Maybe it was the bloodloss. For a moment Callumn wondered why he was still subjected to torture after telling the two investigators what he had done and what he knew. Then he suddenly remembered that they had told him that confessions made by non-Arkronians were only legal when subtracted by torture in the Arkronian state.

Once again Callumn has found himself in a deep mess. He had killed the Arkronian crown prince. But why? Why was he in that room? There was supposed to be an assassin. That was what Peatyr Breatnach had told him. Was the intel Peatyr provided him wrong? Or did that man always know that the crown prince would be there? Did this fellow Vulpin lie to him? And for a moment the young Vulpin wondered why he happened to get into this mess. But deep down inside he had always known the answer. It was because he doubted himself and his own judgement.

A sudden splash of water over his head waked the young warrior from his slumber. Did he doze off or pass out from the wounds received from the torture? Callumn did not know. He no longer could tell the difference. As he swept away the water he noticed the Arkronian standing in front of him. After a few times blinking Callumn had a better look of the man in front of him. He seemed rather small for an Arkronian, not as towering as the others. And yet this man seemed more intimidating than the torturers and investigators combined.

”w...w...what can I do f… f… for y..you” stuttered Callumn in a weak voice as he tried to crawl even deeper away in the corner of his cell.

The Arkronian stepped closer to the young Vulpin and looked down upon the bloodied prisoner below him. Callumn could feel the man’s piercing gaze as his shadow casted him further into darkness.

”So, you’re the one who assassinated the crown prince, correct?” Spoke the man in a commanding voice.

”Y...y...yes”

”Is it true that Peatyr Breathnach, the Vulpin owner of the Palm Beach Bathhouse had convinced you to assassinate the person in the room because he told you that that was an assassin who came to take the life of king Aidar?”

Confused Callumn looked at the Arkronian in front of him. Why was he asking these questions. He had told the answers many times before. What was the point of all of this?

”Yes, that is true Answered the young Vulpin.

The Arkronian continued his inquiry. ”Ok. Do you know what the consequences of your actions are going to be?”

More confusion filled Callumn’s mind. The investigators of the Inquisitio had perfectly explained the procedure. That we would be put on trial for committing the act of regicide. If the court would find him guilty, he would be executed. ”I’m going to get executed”

The Arkronian brought his face real close to Callumns and started to speak again. ”Yes, you are going to be found guilty of regicide and will die burning on a stake. However, you’re not the only one who will be held accountable for the assasination of crown prince Rakon-Da. The fact is that regicide is not a crime committed by an individual, it is a crime committed by a country. In this case, Vulpinia. King Aidar and the entire Vulpin nation will be put on trail as well. Your king is going to get persecuted for Regicide, conspiracy against the crown and treason to the realm. Once found guilty, the Arkronian government has no other option than to consider the assasination of Rakon-Da as an act of war. Arkronia will hunt down every Vulpin and make sure that your treacherous kind disappears from Mycorian soil forever. That are the consequences of your actions.”

Just now, in this conversation Callumn realized that he had brought not just doom to himself but also has endangered the Vulpin nation and people as a whole. Tears filled his eyes as he desperately looked for a way out. The young warrior never wanted this. He never wanted a war between Vulpinia and the kingdom of Arkron. All he wanted was his king to be save. ”but...but...King Aidar is not involved. It was Peatyr Breatnach who asked me to do it. protested Callumn.

The Arkronian just smirked. ”Yes, that is true. It was Peatyr Breatnach but you visited him together with Cael Drumain, king Aidars most trusted advisor. Did you know that Peatyr Breatnach is a well known spy for Vulpinia? There is no doubt that the court will find king Aidar guilty if you keep telling this story.”

” This story?......what do you mean by this?” Murmured Callumn in confusion. The young Vulpin wasn’t sure what the Arkronian was after.

”Well Callumn Dubhghail of clan longear. You are bestowed with the power of choice. You can stick to your story and force the Kingdom of Arkronia to wage war against the Vulpin nation or you can tell the court the truth.”

”The truth?”

”Yes, how you met with an Ascari delegation from Yuravia at the Palm Beach bathhouse who hired you for the assasination.” The Arkronian paused a bit before he whispered into th young Vulpin’s ear ”Do you want us to destroy the Vulpin or do you prefer your people to life and have the Arkronians destroy the Yuravian Confederation instead? I suggest you make a wise decision tomorrow in court.”

Flabbergasted Callumn watched as the Arkronian left his cell. It was true. Assassinating a crown prince was an act of war. If he would tell the truth in court, the Arkronians would certainly wage war against the Vulpin. But could he have innocent people take the fall for his own mistakes? This decision was certainly more difficult than it looked like. At Least Callumn did not have to live with the consequences of his future decision because he would be put to death anyway. Suddenly the prospect of execution became much more comforting than it should be.