Black clouds bellowed off in the southwest side of the city, and the Emperor stared through red and yellow stained glass at the early factory forges, hammering away at metals to make anything from door hinges to wheel axles. He just stared at the deepening clouds of soot that flowed freely from cement and stone towers that held themselves high upon the southern half of the river. It was disgusting to look at, but sadly, in the ancient days, the south was a beautiful view that some ancient ancestors loved to stare at. He hated it, the north was now beauty, but the far side of the valley was not his anymore, yet it was beautiful nonetheless.

Emperor Theltavious VII slipped into a purple robe as he looked down at the fallen roof of what used to be a council room, the largest part of the building. It was now full of workers removing anything reusable, and every once in a while a rotten corpse. It was a slow and horrid process and he hated the ugliness of it. He already had a plan to make it beautiful once again. Glass roofing with dark stone and timber supports with ancient stones covered beautiful flora, not the previous flowery vines that he found out were poisonous, but something simple, maybe grape vines. Regardless, he had something to do today didn't he? Well someone would tell him eventually.

The robe fit him well, and he sighed, remembering most of his staff was killed in some unfortunate accident, so that meant he had to go down to the kitchen and retrieve something for himself, specially since he had awaken early, or at least by himself. He knew there were maybe three servants left, and he remembered a guests were meant to come as well as others meant to council him. He had dodged a coup, only to be left with no one who knew how to do anything. Oh, there was meant to be an arms trader; no, there were other things that had to be dealt with first his breakfast, second, his artist's supplies, and third, maybe second breakfast.

Opening his own door, he looked at where the head of the servants was supposed to be, there was not one. Argamei assumed that he would have to appoint a new one, or hopefully be given another. He looked down the hallway both ways, it was empty but for a large armored man walking down it. He knew who it was, and that man scared him senseless.

He slunk down the hallway and down another and another. He saw many things, well the lack of them, primarily people, artwork, armors, and the eventual broken or splintered door. It was almost two years since that happened, yet few things had been fixed. He looked inside one of the broken doors and saw a once-occupied room, likely some old nobles' room; stacks of leather chests and wood crates littered the floor. He didn't see any heraldry or semblance, but it was something besides almost desolate walls in what was meant to be a palace. It turned out more like a crumbling ruin of a fortress than anything.

HEading down a semi-spiral of stairs to the next floor down, he came upon a large hall, yet again empty there were at least a few modest banners that hung from different points in the room, but a single one hung over the two cases of stairs at the head of the room where he was. At the foot was a large door, one of the few things that had been refurbished, but that is because the people had to look upon the far side of it. Few people made it past anymore, mostly just himself and the servants.

He opened the door, and peered inside to the next hall, there were a few people there, a servant, and an Elvan woman, she was not from these lands, and he expected her to be from some faraway land to assist or advise those beneath him how to do their jobs. It was a bit of a fault in his own mind, letting another people do what he should find someone to do, but the lacking of people in the room proved he needed the assistance, after all most of the ones who had any idea of what they were doing were dead, and thankfully not at his hands.

It was fate, and although he could use something to eat to satiate his morning routine, it would have to go. The door that was opened creaked loudly, it was made that way, and whomever had constructed it should be hanged the Emperor thought. He was in a glorified bedrobe of silk, with only a modest bolstering of fur and down. The servant moved to his side, and bowed before approaching.

"I will fetch you a cloak your Magesty." the younger man said before scurrying off, and a few others did similar gestures of respect to the Emperor, there should be someone announcing him, but the door did that well, he would have to make up for that later. But at that time, he had a few guests that likely wanted to speak with him, or at least someone to resonate their problems, or suggestions with.

There was no right hand, no advisor; he needed another one of those in due order, but at this moment, the other one he had was found to be incompetent, even more than himself; at least he tries to make things beautiful and bearable for his people, or so he thinks.

"I am Emperor Theltavious the VII, if you have requests for me, feel free to line yourselves up, and present your needs and findings in an ordered manner. Please do not cut in each others way, and be civil about it." There is no way this could go wrong; there were maybe twelve people in total in the room, three guards, four if you count the hulk in the corner, two servants, and one fleeing to retrieve something. The rest were just nobles, for the most part; the one oddity was the elf that he saw. It wasn't uncommon, but at the moment, it was kinda uncommon, especially in his court. He did get some from the city far in the south but that was besides the point.

While in thought, he saw that several had started a squabble, well most of them started a squabble for the first spot. It would be best to wait this out he thought

---

"Madam, I suggest you wait... Seeing as you're here, enjoy yourself." a man in a long gray and brown robe said quietly; it was the uniform of those who were in servitude, "I've not had to deal with the upfront business until now. But, most come from the north and have lived here since... Two were once Dukes, and one was a count. The rest are barons or land-lords of some kind, oh... the one fighting the Dukes was once a general."

The man smiled at Myrrhis, "Is there anything I can get you while you wait?" his head bowed some as he awaited a response.

---

In a small private chamber, more of a cubbyhole than a full room, long before the rooster’s crow, the door opened with a creak, letting the warm glow of the rushlight in and illuminating the sleeping form of a pale-haired Elf. The light’s holder, an Elven woman just shy of 800, tip-toed over to the cot, apprehensive of her least favorite duty.
“Lady Myrrhis,” She whispered, gently nudging the knight’s shoulder. “Lady Myrrhis, it’s time to rise.”
The knight stirred, her neck competing with the cot’s creaking on account of an insufficiently stuffed straw mattress. A knight she may have been, but also one aware of her situation, one who heeded the advice of her purser to be frugal. “I’m awake, Mrs. Lathari.” She said in a tone of voice that clearly indicated otherwise. Despite the relation, Myrrhis couldn’t bring herself to refer to the woman by her first name. After all, she had been her minder and aide since birth, and her brother’s and mother’s before her. It would’ve been difficult, nay impossible not to show respect.
“The innkeeper has prepared some warm water.” The elder Elf continued as she set down a jug of it beside the cot, “He’ll be serving breakfast shortly.”

Half an hour later, the two Elves and two Humans were sitting around a table.
“Threll truly is a jewel of the continent, even at such a tumultuous time.” Gordon, her young squire commented.
“You may get more time to explore it yet. This matter may not end with a simple report.” She shared between bites, “Soldiers turned bandits are common after a prolonged conflict. A land full of warriors with no one to fight, often with few skills outside of fighting and no one except their comrades who understands what they’ve been through. But during one, it is a sign of exceptionally poor morale for an entire company to defect like this.” The problem was further compounded by the fact that the soldiers in question had been trained on how to find small bands of warriors in the countryside. The same tactics that had worked in Lannion were now known by these deserters, drawing out the search.
“Do you believe the Emperor will hold you accountable?” He asked.
“We shall find out soon. You will accompany me. It will do you good to visit the court. And you best be there anyhow, since if I am found at fault, then as my Squire you will also be executed.”
“Excuse me?!” He nearly choked on a spoonful of beans.
“I jest, Gordon. You’ve nothing to fear.” She shared with a smile, leading to a round of chuckles around the table.

---

Despite the early rise, they’d been beaten to the palace by a few others. She bowed politely when the Emperor entered, Gordon following suit and then both settled in for the wait, an Elf in a plain black dress with a white and red sash around the waist and over her left shoulder and a young black-haired man in a blue doublet standing out a bit among the crowd.
“Some tea if you have any.” Myrrhis replied to the servant before going back to observing the squabbling nobles, ignoring being addressed incorrectly under the assumption no one told the man who she was. After all, she’d never been to Threll before and her summons and arrival were rather hasty.
“Observe.” She discreetly pointed the argument out to Gordon, “I would like to point out that regardless of who is seen first, we will all be delayed by arguing, whereas otherwise someone could already be speaking to the Emperor, but given our different standing, interrupting would be impolite.” She said just loud enough to be overheard by the squabbling group, circumventing the obstacle while still passing the suggestion along before quieting down again. “Self-respect and maintaining appearances are important, Gordon, but you must take care to never let them stand in the way of results.” ‘And a general of all people should know that, if no one else’ She thought, but kept that thought to herself.

Duke Manith of Cyreze eventually brought the squabbles into a fight with fists, he was lucky that few were in the room, and that most did not care to intervene, the few things that did happen is that whatever was left of the guard, barring the largest amalgamation of steel plate armor and weapons moved either closer to the Emperor himself, or the door to the larger courtyard. It was an interesting thing, it was a fight between those who had no power left but for the clothes on their backs, and whatever they could swindle away from their homes before they fled. Well whatever they managed to keep in their possessions. They were granted pity due to their ranks and titles, but as it could be shown, they were just cornered animals fighting for scraps.

The servant returned with a tray of tea and several glasses, as well as a standing table as he placed it down for them to enjoy over time. The tray was likely some form of cheap alloy coated with a faux rose-gold, but it held authentic glass cups, and a clay pot of a dark substance.

"It is a tea dilute, it is some of the few I have been able to find in the recent days." the servant said quietly, pouring several glasses including one for himself, "I am Mr.Turyur, the other public servant is Mr.Tilitin. If you are staying here, we will likely be taking care of your basic needs, and general distraction from the faults of the others who come here."

He stared at the brawl as it had become devolve until the Duke of Cyreze, well once Duke of Cyreze stuck one of the men with a knife that was created from a pocket. With that the man slowly placed down his own cup, and stood in front of the two, not in a defensive posture, but just standing there.

The guards did nothing but continue to move in front of the paling Emperor, but not much action was resolved.

"It seems that the count of Garmond has been stabbed, surprised it didn't happen sooner." Mr.Turyur said quietly, looking over at the two more or less to gauge their actions. "Don't worry... this is sadly common place over the past few years."

---

The Emperor stared at what had become a brawl, he was fixing to try and stop the squabbling once and for all, but it turned into someone getting stabbed. He saw blood, and his face went white. He hadted the sight of blood near him, even if it was blood sausage, he hated the smell of it, no matter what kind of blood it was, he could always tell what was blood and what wasn't. His servant hadn't returned, and the guards in the room just stood in front of him. He opened his mouth, but couldn't speak, and with the squabble over, most of the others backing down after the Count, who was now lying on the ground groaning got stabbed.

"His Magesty." Started the Duke, "I was hoping to come and ask for our permission to found a New Dutchy with my village as it's head. It will look over the City of Darkness, and many of the surrounding lands including the enclave of elves."

The Duke of Cyrene, turned to look at those who he was once fighting with, and then he saw an elf in the back, and almost scowled, before looking back forward. "The benefits of our military would be wonders if we could once again mobilize what is left of our southern armies, and the experience of the elves would work wonders for our people. We would have thousands of trained warriors and mages ready to march and rec-."

This was stopped by another in the crowd, "So you can throw more lives into a slaughter? So you can horde an army for yourself, and then waste your soldiers on a campaign to gratify your riches, and when you run away again, you can leave an army to die?"

The mess had turned into a squabble once again, but this time with more hatred filled into it.

The Emperor however saw what the Duke scowled at, and it seemed that there were those unfamiliar to him in the court, he was used to having blatant murder in his halls, but he saw these individuals and likely knew they saw him as just a stone in the river. He believed his should prove them wrong, "While you all figure your lives and arguments out... I am going to stretch." he said, with likely few hearing his voice over the yelling.

He stood, and hastily drew himself down the few steps from his throne to the even floor, skirting past the occupied individuals in the room, he as almost invisible to most, which he found to be a blessing and a curse. While it allowed him to move around easily, it also meant that he saw his rule as nothing besides a title. His father had gathered croweds, he just has some once Duke murder someone who also has no power anymore.

He approached those in the back, and looked Tillitin, "make sure he is at least alive, and make sure he lives... I don't want another person to die in my halls this week."

With those words, and the servant heading for harms way, his guard and the Emperor looked at the outsides, "I am... sorry, you had to see that, in the final days of the congressional government most of those men were to be placed under arrest for corruption, or treason for their own people. Sadly those documents are gone, and those of sanity are often those on the floor. But, how may I assist you both? I know you are not from these lands, you wear nothing like the elves of my lands, and while I would wish to hide the instability of this nation, I fear that is too late should you be envoys."

---

Myrrhis accepted the refreshments with an appreciative nod of her head, savoring the flavor of oranges and cinnamon. Gordon for his part furrowed his brow, caring little for the taste of dried tree bark in his food and drink, but contained his displeasure and continued taking small courtesy sips.

The Elf would have intervened when the argument came to fists, but fisticuffs turned into a stabbing before she could set her cup down. Normally that wouldn't have been a concern, had she and Gordon not been asked to leave their weapons with a guard a few doors earlier before meeting with the Emperor. What a shame, that, for the desire to beat some manners into the Duke with the hilt of a sword was great and growing further with each word out of his mouth. The voice of dissent from the crowd did not bode well either. It was up to the ruler to ensure the nobility did not abuse their power at the nation's expense, and while Threndel’s instability was nothing new, Myrrhis couldn't fathom why someone would disrespect the emperor this openly in his court white expecting help with their grievances. She wasn’t familiar with the full story of how the current Emperor came upon the throne, but surely two years were enough time to get situated.
“This is common here?” Gordon wondered, “Fighting in court?”
“Not quite the court experience I intended. I suppose today, the student learns alongside the master.” Myrrhis shook her head, lowering her voice to a whisper. “The palace guard could also use some attention. I've seen the innkeeper in Lannion step in to break up worse brawls with more gusto.” Here, a man with a bloodied knife was still unrestrained.

With the Emperor's approach, the Knight and the Squire set down their cups - the Squire with delight as the cinnamon tearror had come to an end - and stood, bowing once more. The Emperor's blunt honesty was about as expected as rain from blue skies, Myrrhis having expected him to play it off as court entertainment or something of the sort. “Your Majesty, I have been summoned to present a report regarding the unfortunate desertion at the Yllaren garrison.” She said in an appropriately apologetic tone while producing the summons letter from a belt pouch, forgoing introductions assuming someone had told the Emperor whom he was meeting on a given day and bracing to deal patiently with the derisive comment she expected from the stab-happy duke given his speech about marshaling more troops.

"There is still a garrison there?" he questioned looking at the two before shaking his head, waving a hand away from the letter as he looked at them, looking over at the Duke as he was getting *Sorry, um... Yes, how... we really still have a garrison there?"

Confusion stuck on the man's face as he looked like someone on the first day of their job or like the intern who finally has a project after a long time unboxing things in a backroom. He looked as if the others had continued to rant, almost as if the emperor was not there and they were arguing among themselves. But for the Duke, who had turned into a tomato, he had sat there grumbling. The Emperor, however, was in a setting of disbelief, also in that of shock, and with a bit of pale face from the blood. It was a dark thought in his mind, but that was not the concern at the moment, this odd woman in front of him was

"Then I suspect good news, since most of the nobility there died in the commons hall, their lack of leadership has turned into... Do they have leadership? Is it still the six-month-old and his mother that lives there?" His eyes looked between them both, looking down at them as he pressed his lips together. "So um..."

The line of armor and bodies between the argument and them was a helpful tool; most weapons on those in the pile of angry men were armed, but not to the point of what was left of the Royal Guard. He was thankful for that, and that the others had shut up the Duke in the rabble, well noble grouping. The elven woman in front of him and her squire, "Might I ask who you both are? It is rare, especially since the incident, to see any elves outside of their city, or the woods... nevermind on that, it is just rare seeing your kind, but, I hate to be rude, most of the staff is still trying to find replacements to build the staff while repairs continue."

---

Having an Emperor apologize to her for being rude by not knowing her name was a jarring experience. She'd seen lower ranked nobles get around the problem by addressing the unknown party as ‘you’ the entire conversation rather than show their lack of knowledge. Finally some positive example for Gordon, playing into what she said earlier about not letting keeping up appearances interfere with performing one’s duties. “Lady Myrrhis Nivellen and my Squire Gordon, at your service, your Majesty. I've been sent to aid our Northern allies in whatever capacity you deem necessary.“ She had a feeling they've been sent with the mindset of ‘If we send a few advisors now, we can claim to be helping already and thus delay the expeditionary force.’ And studied the Emperor's expression and posture as she said it, wondering if he'd come to the same conclusion.

When the Emperor inquired about the presence of a garrison in Yllaren, one word fought its way onto her tongue: ’Barely.’ But she knew better than to say that out loud. “It is a mere shadow of its former self, just 60 soldiers, some officers and 90 conscripts in training not counting the deserter company and the city guard which the garrison commander refused to conscript from, fearing disorder in the city.” She shared, “Most of those we've trained in the past two years had been posted to other parts of the Empire, but recruitment around Yllaren continues to be difficult as the farms, orchards and vineyards require a lot of farmhands, thus and limiting how many young men we can draw on from each family.” Since new years’, they have gone as far as conscripting women as crossbowmen to free up men for roles that prioritized physical strength.

“Yes, young Duke Cato still rules in name, with his mother managing the holdings until he comes of age to do so.” Gordon piped up with an explanation in an area Myrrhis wasn't very familiar with, his father's membership in Yllaren’s Guild of Merchants to thank for some knowledge of his home city's politics.
“And the fort's previous commander came out of retirement until Garrison Deputy Trevisan is deemed fit for promotion.” She filled in on the parts she was knowledgeable of. The old Major may have been pushing 70 years and physically it showed, a lifetime of battlefield injuries and army camp diseases leaving an unmistakable mark on the man’s body and preventing him from taking a hands-on approach to his duties, but his mind remained sharp, as did his voice. The man had an air of wisdom that made even Myrrhis feel like a novice squire in his presence at times.

---

"Pardon any confusion... I am not the first person my father would wish to become the next ruler of this Empire. I was never meant to have it, and thus was raised not to do anything of this sort. If my brother had not died, I likely would have been in a monastery somewhere when I turned of age to marry, or sent off to some land to keep a war from happening. If anything else I was likely expected to greet people at the door." The Emperor said after marking an almost taken-back stance with her name, or at least sensing confusion somehow. "It irks the loud one behind me that, I.. speak more like one of the servants than the one that commands them."

"But... Conscription is a word I am not familiar with, I assume that is something across the sea," he said quietly, almost to himself but too loud, "I know that before most of the lands to our south in the realm devised a citizen-soldier approach to their recruitment, I know many of the citizen class have either fallen to poverty, or have risen as land-lords in their own regards. But... I am honestly surprised there is still anyone there to desert at all, let alone a company-sized amount..."

The man looked down for a moment thinking, and then raised his head, "There is something I know about that area, and that is mostly that they cannot supply their own arms. I know your southland provides most of the arms used for our military at this point due to our lack of both a... large craftsman base that has the skills to create the fire sticks or whatever they are called, the hand cannons. Those things... But, I also know that well the raising of levies has not been the same since my brother died. I know my father tried to implement some new techniques for amassing large armies. I... tend to find them not as useful anymore... or surprised they were useful, with the reliance on magics becoming both more prevalent but also more... rare. Would a small force not be better suited should it come to it? I... was hoping that a magi of some form, along with a retinue of guards to control his safety might do more than a legion of men might."

"But also, that can easily be countered by a unit of dwarven warded infantry should they be caught out by them." he took a deep breath, "Sorry... I know there are no current wars or rebellions, that most are tame, but... I honestly did not know that you were here, Lady Nivellen... I had not heard that you were even in the lands to assist us with rebuilding. But also to see that an advisor is... of a rare people... I am grateful, but have you made yourself well, have you been in the city long?"

"Also surprised there is still a mayor there, I assume his son fell then, or that Sir Belithorn is still alive... I honestly thought most of them had died in the siege there, then again... that city holds its mysteries still underneath in the new city. But, that is still good news, I thought it would be closer to ten or twenty, sixty, that is almost twice what we have here in this city for the garrison, and the guards are what you see around me now... with a few exceptions, mostly those that survived the collapse of the other quarters but could not escape injury like myself and him." his eyes slowly wandering over to the massive guard in the room.

The trip from Wesp had been a long one. The mountains of the Eastern Ridges and the barren terrain made the trip inhospitable. Adding parties of members of raiding Horde, along with thieves and bandits, made the trip even worse for the small band of brothers. They were all that was left of their order after the Abby was attacked and raided.

“Brother Sylian, could you check on Brother Alton?” the young Abbot asked as the group made its way into the capital city, Threll.

The day had made its march, and evening was setting in. One mule carried two small chests of Sacred Texts and the items for worship. Tired, but still moving. Two novices, four brothers, two small bags of coins, and a decree that the order owned land that the former Abby resided on also came along.

One of the Brother’s commented, “I remember when the capital shone like a gem in the emperor’s crown. Now, the place looks …”

Vigo jumped in saying, “Now, let us speak kindly. Our home is in much worse shape than this.”

To many on the streets they looked like a rambling band of, well, homeless men.

Even the city guard looked at them like they were trouble.

About a five minute walk from the Emperor’s Palace , the small band found an Inn that had seen better days. Two drunks lay outside on the ground, a small gaggle of working women moved their way into and down a dark alley. One of the novices showed great attention to what was being sold.

“Brother,” is all Vigo had to say. The master of discipline would deal with that later.

Vigo entered the Inn to stares from patrons and staff.

The rooms were adjoining and there was a bath down the hall. Hot water would be provided so that they could wash and clean themselves up. Tomorrow the small band would make its way to the Royal Court, to plead for support of some form.

The Cardinal had all but told them that the winds of faith were changing. Magic was being replaced with “technology.”

“Even the ancient texts are being examined and understandings are being revised,” the Cardinal told Vigo with a smile. Though not publicly, Vigo thought the Cardinal had bought his position.

After a bit of warm food, Vigo knelt on the floor as one brother washed closed and the others were already asleep.

“You are the source of everything. You speak and things happen. Bless our efforts with the Emperor, may he hear our case and give us aid,” Vigo whispered in an ancient tongue.

Then he lay down to sleep against the room’s door.

---

The morning brought with it the promise of a better day. Vigo’s confessor insisted that he take a bath and comb out his beard. The brother’s insisted that he wear his robes and the regalia of his office. He refused to ride the donkey with the chests. The poor beast had already been through much.

At the Palace, there was much activity. Bodies were being removed.

“Not a good sign,” Brother Alton said.

Vigo sighed and the group continued on. Murmurs of concern came from the brothers as they searched through the building looking for servants to direct them till they stumbled on the place where the Emperor was holding court. The young Abbot poked his head through the door looking for a servant to announce them.

---

”Perhaps it will make you more popular among the common folk?” She tried to find some positive spin on the Emperor’s woes. Truth be told, she did not envy the man’s position, at all. Most commoners envied the nobility’s wealth and status, but that came at the cost of the responsibility the nobles bore on their shoulders, one that often called them to sacrifice their dreams for the less wealthy, but more carefree masses. Well, unless one was like the Duke Manith who clearly never got the memo. Likely a failure on the part of his parents and tutors. ”No apologies needed, your majesty. A mere knight in a city half the Empire away is hardly important enough to take note of.” Well, so much for the thought of ‘Let’s send some people to help as a political gesture.’ Either no one thought to inform Threll they had done so, or the Emperor forgot.

”Enforced service.” Myrrhis explained the unknown word, “There may not be a war now, but building an army when it's already at the gates is too late and unrest need not come from the outside.” She explained the reasoning, picking up the Emperor's line of thought. “An unit of soldiers is more than an abstract object fighting others. Soldiers need rest, they get injured, fall ill. Camps need to be built and guarded, messages passed, prisoners watched and more. Small or specialized units have their place, and with each invention, their numbers and tasks grow, but you will always need common soldiers in numbers.“ She had no idea where the bit about a mayor came from, even if the Emperor could read thoughts she thought of a ‘Major’, not ‘Mayor’.

Upon being informed of the numbers in the capital, her eyes grew wide. Over two years since the transition, and nothing's been done. The fact that the far reaches of the Empire’s husk were coming apart at the seams was understandable, but the capital? When one finds themselves in a blizzard, the hands and feet grow cold so the heart may keep beating. That the imperial palace was understaffed years after the disaster was unfathomable. Were there difficulties she wasn’t aware of, or was the Emperor genuinely incompetent? “I haven’t, we arrived yesterday.” She grabbed onto the question like a lifeline to recover from the shock.

Slightly off to the side, Gordon approached behind one of the palace guards and cleared his throat. “Excuse me: the door.” He gestured to the bearded man peeking in.

---

"That will come in five years when the treaty lets up." the Emperor said as he pressed his lips together, and when Gordon spoke, his head peaked up, almost robotically towards the door, he looked over at the nearest servant which scuddled towards the door like a bipedal roomba before opening the door. It was a moment of peace between the servant and the bearded man.

The Emperor however, sighed a bit, and rubbed his temple for a moment, "Words are something different, and it's hard to read sometimes." the young man said waving his hand about almost as if continuing a conversation, but he shook his head, "Forcing people does not sit well when the people do not enjoy the lives they live, and arming them may turn out worse. But numbers are good... Though again I hope that I will not have to fight sooner than five years, and hope that it will be farther than the years of the treaty. I truly think that there must be a better way, bolster the people, maybe get the citizen to rise for the crown once again like the days of old. It will be cheaper again if our armies buy their own equipment, die their own uniforms and the like, but also we need trained gunsmiths, and plenty of alchemists for the firepower, gunpowder, whatever it is called. I haven't touched one of those fowl creations, but I know their usefulness. Maybe an armory of a hundred could defeat an army of thousands should we fix the breaks in the outer wall. That's one of the main things that defeated us last time was the northern princes use of powder weapons, mages, mind control, subterfuge, oh and also exploding powder."

The likely incompetence flowed from him in that moment, or at least the ideal that he shouldn't have been the person in charge, or was never told what to do, and that no one that did tell him, if anyone, was also incompetent or leading him down a destructive path. He raised his hand to his front hip as if he was going to bow but kept it there as a low grumble came from his stomach. "But a knight is something of worth, most of those in these lands died several years ago, or went home... or died of old age, so having one is rare. I know there was an idea of abolishing most of the old systems when they forced my father to abjucate... But, still a knight, even if one from a foreign land is good news. I would say we hold a tourney but... need more than one I would think."

More men behind the door showed, "I am hungry, are you both hunger, is anyone else hungry, we should eat... are those more homeless... Well, time to be one for the people."

The emperor looked at the men and shouted, "Mr.Turyur, let them in, and begin lunch. Breakfast, secondses? Which ever meal it is!"

He looked back at the young woman, and her squire, and smiled a bit, and leaned in, "I am... terribly sorry for the blather, and the... lack of confidence... or knowledge, things do not happen quickly, and for reasons. It's... just going to be a process, we have five years to resend almost everything that has happened since the incidents."

---

"Yes, come in, I am Mr.Turyur, and should you need anything just tell me, or Mr.Tiltin. If you would just wait..." the servant looked back towards the group of men with slowly inflating egos and disdain for the entire day so far, then to the elf, her squire, the other servant, the pack of guards, and finally, the Emperor. "Behind or near her... I... Might I ask who you are? You do not seem local, though you smell of the smuggler's quarter."

Mr.Turyur slowly opened the door, and saw a few more, he had not noticed them beforehand, and he noticed the citadels gate was again slightly broken, no wonder it had been kept up recently for that reason he believed. He sighed a bit and placed his hand to pull the door open, smiling a bit, looking between the men.

A moment later, before he could react to their answer, from across the room

With a bit of confidence borrowed from the brothers’ behind him, Vigo started to speak.

“Good sir, we are not homeless, technically, and we are most certainly not smugglers,” the young Abbot said.
Moving forward with a little more boldness but still looking up to them servant he said with confidence, “I am Father Vigo Galbassi, Abbot of the Abby of the Order the Divine Wisdom.”
“We have come seeking the aid of his Excellency. Raiders and thieves attacked our Abby. Fourty of our brothers were killed along with Duke Vadimovich and some of his servants,” Vigo said loud enough that those in the room could hear but not loud enough to be impolite.
“The barbarians killed our best and strongest healers, then worked through the ranks,” Vigo expressed with a bit more emotion than he intended.
“It was by Divine Mercy that we were spared,” he concluded then added, “We have walked for the last five days to arrive here.”

The brothers did their best to show proper respect. The mention of food and the thought of hit made the hillfolk stomachs growl.

His confessor, a monk much older than himself, whispered to him, “Make the quartz on your staff glow.”
Vigo smiled as the servant surely heard the suggestion as well.
“Lumanotiar,” Vigo spoke in a commanding voice causing the quarts on his staff and any other quartz item in the room start to glow.

Vigo was not sure if that would help their situation. It did draw attention to his little party as the bright white quartz glowed and illuminated the room.

At one time the order had some battle mages in their order, with the times, the order turned more towards healing. The chest on the donkey contained what was suppose to magical spells that a battle mage could use, sadly none of the remaining brothers worked any of those arts. It was the learning the ancient scripts and then trying to talk to someone in the modern tongue. It sounds strange and it makes you feel like a fool, and with magic feeling foolish also could mean bad consequences.

Vigo decided to give a gentile smile.
His thoughts were racing, “Do not think we are assassins. It would have a better display to produce fire or cause something to move. If this does not go well, we may be hauling bodies out like those workers. Why did I let them talk me into being the abbot?”

“It may be divine intention that we are here as well. The brothers come with their skills and it appears that the staff here is lacking,” Vigo added.
“Brother Afonin,” Vigo spoke then motioned for him to come forward.
“This dear brother, is an excellent cook. Brother Agilbert, was our stable master and tended the animals…”
Vigo introduced each of the brothers having them step forward and explained how they could be of service.

Feeling very confident as his group had made it past the threshold into the room without out being thrown out, till he realized he did not know what he could do to be of service. Speaking in an ancient elven dialect, “Brother, what should I say about myself.”

His confessor spoke in the common tongue, “The Abbot was worried about how he could serve the Emperor. Boasting of one’s own skills can make one a fool.”
He smiled a sweet smile the elder brother spoke, “The Abbot has many skills that are useful and many that he does not even realize. That is why he is the Abbot.”
After that his confessor stepped back into the line and the brothers did their best to look presentable.

---

Of course getting the people happy was the solution to most nation’s woes, but ’How?’ and ’With what?’ were the real questions. “Perhaps the citizenry could be encouraged to visit the City of Darkness and look across the strait to see what will become of them if they don’t stand against the tide.” She offered with some bitterness before picking up on the equipment side of things. “All the more reason to secure the Empire’s roads so that foreign merchants and craftsmen are convinced of their safety when they come to sell their wares or practice their craft.”

‘Five years. Better step to it.’ Myrrhis thought to herself, the Elf viewing the passage of time from a completely different angle than a Human or even a Dwarf would. In five years, a Human went from apprentice to Journeyman or decided that the woman he met was the right one. In five years, an Elf decided that the new barn should indeed be painted red, not blue. Barring disease and injury, they had all the time in the world. Perhaps that was among the reasons why they kept to themselves, to spare themselves the pain of having to watch their fellows of other races wither away. Yet at the same time, they had to respect the short lived ones for how much they could get done with a paltry few decades.

Hearing of a bandit attack five days of travel away sent chills down Myrrhis’ spine. No, not that, anything but her former conscripts committing such an act. She had not heard of their order, which gave her hope they weren’t from around Yllaren, but dark thoughts usually prevailed in such situations. Bad enough she failed them, much less if others paid for their mistake with their lives. “May I ask, Father, where you came from?” She hid the worry in her voice well, though Gordon had been by her side long enough to notice, raising an eyebrow before forcing himself to adopt a neutral expression again. “That must be invaluable for reading in bed.” The young squire said with genuine appreciation of the demonstrated magic.

---

"It is a blessing that you are each still alive." the extravagant one spoke as he took a few steps from the group, he was with, in which most of that group followed them, "if I remember it used to be on the far side of the City of Darkness where mages and scholars travelled year round before it's decimation and the bridge was destroyed."

"And if they travel through lands of barbarians that also speaks to that word because they would have to find a route around the sea to another crossing. And up north, and even in our lands there is plenty of treturous creatures through the lands that fill it with destruction and sorrow. It's as if they are a broken though, one which can be found guilty regardless. Barbarism should be illegal and therefore it is for those who are backwater in ways."

The man slowly looked between the three groups of people, those of nobles and squabbling people, the Elveness and her Squire, and the new folk of the Abby. He sighed a bit as he looked between the man, "but... let us find something to eat, and we can ask our questions, and begin our plans. It seems that we are gathering a group of different kinds of people,and advisors are something I need. While you may not be here for that, words of wisdom are always welcome. And I have no need to worry for assassins as long as the mage is with us."