[center][h1][b]A C T   S E V E N :   P A L A P A R[/b][/h1]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/AQqmeaT.png[/img][/center]

[hr][hr][center][h2][u]Chapter One: A Restless Slumber[/u][/h2][/center]
Once upon a time, Ceboyan had been a small place. Thatch-roofed huts had perched upon stilts in the tidal flat and fishing boats had been the only traffic through its harbourmouth. As night had fallen, hearths and bonfires had winked out until there was only the faint twinkling light of the stars and the five moons. 

There was nobody save, perhaps, for the very oldest among the residents of the sprawling, ramshackle city who remembered those times anymore. They fell increasingly within the realm of cultural myth, a fraying thread traceable to a distant and disappearing past: before the Virang had come.

And so it was that the sun set over this vast metropolis of some four hundred thousand souls, muted and moody behind a shoal of softly mumbling clouds. The bray of stray dogs traveled through the narrow winding streets and the clank and groan of cranes carried from ships being unloaded - even by night - at the docks.

One by one, the lights winked out and a soft rain began to fall. Yet, not all disappeared into the newly brooding darkness. There remained thin bands of light along the city's few large avenues. Within the port district, in particular, torches flickered amid the gloom as crews continued to work. Liveried security - the gleam of their brass buttons made mute in the prevailing conditions - hunkered in their guardhouses. Others grudgingly patrolled around the Royal Palapar Trading Company's warehouses, clinging beneath the awnings wherever possible. Back and forth swung the tremulous orange lights of their whale oil lanterns, greasy smoky spots of light that wavered as they walked.

The soft rains became a downpour and the torches began to falter. The arteries of light that snaked across the city and up the hillsides toward Mount Bantay retracted until they laid bare the truth of the this place. The docks remained lit - tentatively - and, now, one might behold, even as they disappeared for the night, where those veins of light had led. High up on the hills, overlooking the city, were palaces of a distinctly Virangish architecture. These roosted there, illuminated with magical light, defiant to the wants of nature. From more than one could be heard the sounds of music, conversation, and laughter. Ladies in fine dresses, too drunken to walk with grace, were helped into waiting carriages under umbrellas. Gentlemen, fancying themselves possessed of more daring stuff, made a dash for it in the rain, sliding in beside them. Others stood out on covered colonnades and verandahs, the tiny orange glows of their cigars lost amid the glow of the palaces. It was these events and the conversations held here that moved the city, after all.

Yet, there was two more places of note. The first was lower down, within the city, an oasis of greenery, garden, and light: the Royal Palace of the Queen of Palapar. If it was sleeping for the night, well-accustomed to the monsoon rains that had not quite yet come to a close, it retained some light for practical reasons. This grand old building, however, was rendered impotent by the second. 

[i]This[/i] loomed above even the retreats of that foreign aristocracy. Further up the mountain that the locals had always considered - and named - a guardian, lay the headquarters of the Royal Palapar Trading Company, who were not from this country but owned it in all but name. Though they had named their complex the Beacon Centre for its great domed tower and constant illumination, the locals had another name for it: Masamang Mata - the Evil Eye.

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Z9BU5K3.png[/img][/center]
[hr][hr][h3][u]Introductions[/u][/h3]
[hider=Homecoming (Kalingnan, Palapar)][color=#B8860B][i]How long had it been?[/i][/color] The rains continued to drench Mahal as her anxiety rolled off her. Her eyes rested on the main house wedged firmly between the coffee fields and native jungle. Like a jewel set in the center of a green crown. One built of stone, ironwood, and hand crafted tile. Yet underneath its surface, Mahal knew the beauty to be skin deep. She remembered the screams and blood she shed within its wall and across its grounds. 

Lost in the memories, a soft whine drew her attention. The girl twitched to life and looked down. She saw both her young dogs studying her intently, their tails drooped and ears perked. Their forms waiting impatiently for her next words. Something wet slide across her neck causing her eyes to look at her shoulder. The familiar red skin of Diyablos clung to her shoulder and seemed to touch her cheek. This broke the spell over her. She turned her head forward, inhaled then walked toward the house. Shortly all four slipped under the wooden roof. 

[color=#B8860B]"Ipte-Zept's Blessing."[/color]  A burst of heat flushed her body and evaporated the water into steam. Meanwhile the dogs shook themselves, scattering droplets across the floor. Supok yawned then half bowed, stretching down upon her front legs. As she rose back up, her head glanced about causing Mahal to click her teeth. "Stay with me. Don't go wandering off." 

The pup stared at her before something caught her attention. Noticing the distraction, Mahal followed her companion's gaze. It rested on the farthermost corner of the room. Slowly, one by one, the shadows began to detached themselves from the darkness and stalked into the light. Goma cats, about six them, circled about the intruders. Mahal tracked each one before the largest, a male, drew uncomfortable close. He waited for something. Cautiously, she stretched her palm outward. The feline purred then rubbed his whiskered cheek across it.[/hider]
[hr]
[hider=Impossible Dream (Ceboyan, Palapar)][color=2EFE9A]"Forgive me in advance for this question, Imam,"[/color] said the recent convert, [color=2EFE9A]"but I wonder why you are showing us yourself when you certainly must have much else of great importance to do."[/color] He was a younger man, local and properly pious. He bowed as he spoke, though it was not necessarily the custom here. Old habits died hard.

[color=2E9AFE]"You are not wrong,"[/color] the holy man replied with a soft smile. There was none of the air of judgment about him that most of the locals had come to expect from the Virangish. In any event he had made this place a home for over two decades. [color=2E9AFE]"I have much else to do."[/color] He nodded slowly as he took them past the Silver Gate. [color=2E9AFE]"But none of it is nearly so important as welcoming new brothers and sisters."[/color] He spread his hands. [color=2E9AFE]"Others can do the paperwork and it will be done all the same. [i]I[/i] wish for you to be welcomed as a brother deserves."[/color] 

From the distant Sky Dome, echoed the soft sounds of a hundred or more prayers. Natural light filtered in from the east and people greeted each other and caught up away from the holier areas, among the columns and alcoves. Imam Tikli led them past the Chamber of Sleep and onwards, further, into the Chamber of Giving. There were no questions asked here. People left what they did not need for others. Those others took what they needed. A fountain burbled softly in the middle, hundreds of silver coins shimmering beneath the water's surface. Branching off of the main chamber were hallways, secondary chambers, and guard stations. One of the first cohort, in particular, was strongly gated and watched over by six janissaries. What could possibly have lain down it?[/hider]
[hr]
[hider=Candlelight Conspiracy (Arangal, Palapar)]Not all of them were Palaparese. This was unusual. 

The Thirsty Bull was infamous as a place of rough sailors, dockhands, and general labourers. The booze was cheap, the location was convenient, and it was almost clean. If there was often gambling, fistfights, and drunkenness, there was also a sort of code here. Nobody took - or was allowed to take - their squabbles further than a single night... at least, not with [i]each other[/i]. 

Two outsiders were among them, however. One of these men was masked in the way of the Revidians some had heard of. One or two had tried to get him to take it off. Others had forestalled their efforts before he'd had to so much raise his voice, let alone a hand against them. The other had come in a hooded cloak, for such was the rain this night.

It came down in torrents on what was likely Ceboyan's darkest night in years. From the sprawling terraced farms of Bundok to the squat stinking warehouses of Arangal, the vast city hunkered down against the onslaught, shutters drawn, doors closed, embers glowing faintly in hearths. It was a place of ghosts for the time being. 

The men inside were more than the usual rough sorts. There were merchants and skilled craftsman as well, even a handful of farmers. All had been pouring out their anger with their drinks when the two interlopers had arrived: cheap wages, high prices, draconian law enforcement, and double standards for the Company's men. Worst of all, there was no way out: no ability to form their own companies or undertake any enterprise that could rival those of the Company and Virang. It had reached a boiling point and tonight, perhaps, the fury of these men matched that of the heavens.

The arrivals did not seem to be Virangish, at least. They seemed cut from an altogether different cloth, though it was hard to tell. The guard station was not so very far away, and they had resorted to underhanded plays of late. It would pay to be cautious.[/hider]
[hr]
[hider=Crossroads (Kalingnan, Palapar)]It was late in the darkness, the rain that lay over Ceboyan and Arangal only now starting to make its way to neighbouring Kalingnan. Dogs, left out in it, howled in protest, and drops pattered against thatched roofs. In the great manor house that roosted on the hill, servants were bustling about, bringing furniture and plants in, locking up sheds, and closing shutters. In rapid succession, the lights winked out. The great evil eye that gazed over Aziz Mesud was closed.

[color=FE9A2E]"Dali?"[/color] whispered a voice. A moment passed. [color=FE9A2E]"Dalisay!?"[/color] It came back louder.

[color=DF0174]"Yesss, Bato. I'm here. Are you trying to wake the whole farm?"[/color]

[color=FE9A2E]"Well, you could answer the first time and I wouldn't have to be louder."[/color] A teenage boy could be seen slipping into a large hut. He was wearing a wide straw hat and loose canvas pants patched a few times. 

[color=DF0174]"This takes focus, you know."[/color] A girl, perhaps a year or two older, could be seen sitting cross-legged on a bed made of planks and some hay. Presently, she opened an eye to glare at the boy.

[color=FE9A2E]"Can you sense them yet?"[/color]

She nodded. [color=DF0174]"But only one,"[/color] she admitted, with some consternation. [color=DF0174]"Gani said we'd have [i]real[/i] help."[/color] Dalisay opened both eyes and leaned back, posting her weight on her arms. Long greasy black hair was draped over one shoulder. The boy bore a striking resemblance to her as he joined her sitting on the bed, though his hair had a slight wave to it. 

[color=FE9A2E]"Maybe he's just that good,"[/color] Bato suggested, pausing for a moment. [color=FE9A2E]"Or 'she'."[/color] He tried a hopeful smile.

[color=DF0174]"It's a man,"[/color] Dali corrected. She furrowed her brow. [color=DF0174]"A mage, I think."[/color] She nodded after a second. 

[color=FE9A2E]"He must be [i]some[/i] mage!"[/color] Bato enthused, only to be shushed by his older sister. [color=DF0174]"Oraf only gave you loud and mute, didn't she?"[/color] the girl chided, and the younger of the pair grimaced by way of apology. 

Dalisay glanced about warily and her eyelids fluttered shut for a second. [color=DF0174]"Well, I sure hope he is. It's a mad idea."[/color]

Bato was already rising, but some of the simple cheer faded from his face for a moment. [color=FE9A2E]"If you ask me, doing what they did to Alad was the mad thing."[/color] He began to walk away.

Dali's eyes opened. [color=DF0174]"I know,"[/color] she sighed. [color=DF0174]"I'm sorry."[/color] She took a deep breath and glanced down. [color=DF0174]"We all wish it hadn't happened. We all wish that things could be different."[/color] She shrugged.

[color=FE9A2E]"And they will be, Ate, once this man comes and shows us what we need."[/color] He turned on his heel and crouched down before where she sat on the bed. [color=FE9A2E]"Then we can do the rest ourselves."[/color]

[color=DF0174]"Would a healer not be better for Alad?"[/color]

[color=FE9A2E]"How long until the next Alad?"[/color]

Dalisay sighed and nodded glumly, but she made sure to flash a smile for her little brother. They were but a year and a half apart, though sometimes it felt like more and, other times, [i]she[/i] felt the younger of the two. [color=DF0174]"As usual, wisdom from the mouth of babes."[/color]

Bato winked and she blew a raspberry. [color=DF0174]"I meant his head, as well."[/color] She shook hers. [color=DF0174]"You know he's never been quite right. Anyway, go now,"[/color] she urged him. [color=DF0174]"Tell Gani and Kidlat that he's coming along the west road. He's tall and has a pack and some... kites."[/color] She estimated his walking speed. [color=DF0174]"He's about two miles away. Hurry and you three can pull him into the old shed."[/color]

For a moment, Bato's eyes flicked to the wheelbarrow in the middle of the hut. [color=FE9A2E]"Do you..."[/color]

Dalisay smiled and shook her head. [color=DF0174]"Go, totò!"[/color][/hider]
[hr]
[hider=Sultan's Lament (Gandacar, Virang)]They would find him there, every morning, on the same bench in his garden. It was not a new behaviour, but not an old one either. One day, about a year and a half ago, he had started doing it. Now, it was part of his routine. 

Osman III, called 'Prudent' by allies and enemies alike, was eighty years of age and had reigned for sixty-one. That all men of wisdom and decency respected him was a given. That many of those same men - and women - whispered in secret that he was not the man he had been five years ago - or even two - was also true. Did their whispers reach his wizened ears, or had time rendered him deaf to them?

Dorrad and Hundri were very much alike in Gandacar, and bees and hummingbirds hovered between the delicate blossoms, some cultivated by Osman's own hand, some as old as his reign itself. He sat among them, and who could say if he found his peace there?

Yet, this day, the tranquility of the garden was not to be his. This day, his viziers - the two of them - approached, and a gaggle of others. [color=74DF00]"But if only they could see what I have grown here,"[/color] the old sultan murmured to himself before they arrived, [color=74DF00]"they would not be so quick to urge me to war."[/color][/hider]
[hr]
[hider=The Scorpion's Sting (Lake Albadón, Torragon)][i]"The young conqueror surveys his new empire and crows that it is vast, like Lake Albadón, but he knows nothing of its depth."[/i]
[i][right]- Firrazene Proverb[/right][/i]

The road west from Torra Corda stretches on into inner Torragon, straight as a line in some places. To one side is Lake Albadón and the sparse greenery upon its shores; to the other lies a vast and cruel desert, bleeding off into the horizon, seemingly endless. 

It was into this scene that Ayla Arslan, a daughter of one of the greatest noble houses in the country, arrived. From the dust and winds, the endless mirror of the lake emerged, flamingos and other waterfowl dotting its surface, peering up from their animal activities at the new arrival.

Not so far from its shore lay a gazebo. A simple wooden structure, it cast a rhomboidal shadow across the whitish sands as whitish curtains fluttered in the stifling breeze. Just outside was a horse. Just within was a man. He waited at a table. The girl arriving knew who he was.[/hider]
[hr]
[hider=Sunset Summit (Civitalunga, Revidia)]The sun impaled itself on the belltower of the Sala del Commercio, more peach, now, than grapefruit. People scurried about the business of the day, getting in those final purchases, cleaning their shops, and meeting with friends before the shadow of the Palazzo Ducale covered the plaza below. A group of boys wound their way about the place, playing a ball game, their excitable calls piercing the general din. Once, perhaps, some of the people in the Palazzo had been among that number. Now, they played a different sort of game. 

One with much higher stakes.

[color=BDBDBD]"There are many angles, but the issue is simple at its heart: some trouble for Virang is good for us. Too [i]much[/i] trouble is not."[/color] Prospero Malatesta, called by some L'Anguilla, leaned on the windowsill, gazing calculatingly out across the vast piazza.

Maurizio Tartarello, Minister of War, rapped his knuckles on the table, as if to draw the Doge's attention. [color=FF4000]"If this spark ignites the Twins, La Mossa Verde will fail."[/color] He scowled and shook his head tightly. [color=FF4000]"We are not yet ready."[/color]

There seemed to be a general sense of agreement on that point. The clock on the wall ticked. Shadows stretched rhomboidal. The servants replenished platters and brought drinks, but not so very many, for this was not a formal war council, but rather, a personal session afterwards with the Doge's brain trust and a few newer faces he'd invited.

Count on [i]her[/i], then - the only woman in the room - to be the one who broke the easy agreement. 

[color=04B486]"I think we should press every advantage we have to the hilt."[/color] Francesca la Volpe flipped her feet off of the table where they'd been resting, and placed her cigar into the ashtray. At least her boots weren't muddy this time. [color=04B486]"Gooey Rouis' not as stupid as he looks."[/color] She picked the pineapples off of her pizza. [color=04B486]"Is a foreign war in support of slavery going to galvanize his people enough to attack Revidia!?"[/color] She leaned back and kicked her feet up again. Prospero smiled.  [color=BDBDBD]"Other opinions?"[/color] he offered, taking in the room.[/hider]
[hr]
[hider=Tan'Daxii (Taicuuma, Empire of Tarlon)]The bells of Taicuuma rang across the Sidoilean, a final goodbye to the twenty ships who flew the Jaadas banner. Fort Ensuumax fired a rolling salute and thousands lined the capital's piers, singing, chanting, waving tearful goodbyes. If they were the Golden Generation and might achieve more than any before, more was asked of them than any other as well.

Cascal'uumii'anthan, emperor of Tarlon, knew this well. [color=BA55D3]"Brothers and Sisters,"[/color] he began, appearing atop the walls of the fort, [color=BA55D3]"it heartens me greatly to see you here in such numbers and with such spirit."[/color] He bowed his head in momentary thanks, the Empress Esuul appearing at his shoulder, a silent beautiful apparition, hands knit before her.

[color=BA55D3]"Our brave soldiers and our brave sailors do not need more strength."[/color] He nodded. [color=BA55D3]"For one thousand years, this land we call home, that we found wild and hostile, that we brought to heel and coaxed an empire from, has made us the strongest people on Sagand."[/color] He smiled and spread his arms. [color=BA55D3]"We have had no other choice."[/color]

[color=crimson]"What they need most now,"[/color] said the empress, stepping forward, [color=crimson]"Is faith."[/color] Between her fingers were curled the beads of a levenii. [color=crimson]"Faith that they will have a home that lifts them and welcomes them back, faith in the righteousness of their actions. Faith that the Gods stand behind them."[/color] She raised her fist into the air. [color=crimson]"We have given them arms and armour, brothers and sisters, and now I say [i]that[/i] is our final great Gift as we leave their fates to Damy and Vyshta."[/color]

Esuul bowed her head. [color=crimson]"Let us pray."[/color] Cascal bowed his head. [color=BA55D3]"Let us pray."[/color] 

[color=crimson]"Ypti,"[/color] called the empress,

- [b]"Ypti,"[/b] refrained her people -

[color=crimson]"from whom flows the love and beauty that makes life a joy and wonder,"[/color]

[b]"from whom flows the love and beauty that makes life a joy and wonder,"[/b]

[color=crimson]"we humbly ask of thee to hold these young women and men in your heart, to set before them reminders of what it is that they fight to protect, that they may not lose themselves to the warrior's rage or the widow's mourning."[/color]

[color=BA55D3]"Shiin."[/color] Cascal's voice carried out across the piers and he, too, was echoed by his people.

[color=BA55D3]"who is the light of learning, the pique of curiosity, and the sage wisdom of experience."[/color]

A thousand voices followed that of their emperor.

[color=BA55D3]"We ask of thee, in humility, to let not these young souls be dulled by what they will do and witness. Bathe their senses in wonder and foresight so that they may find new and clever ways to law low their enemies and stand triumphant."[/color]

[color=crimson]"Mother Oirase,"[/color] came Esuul and a multitude more after, [color=crimson]"from whom all that lives and breathes springs, it is our most humble request that you carry these whom we have sent on a journey close to your bosom, that you grant them the privilege of many more years alive among us."[/color]

[color=BA55D3]"Exiran,"[/color] thundered Cascal's voice, [color=BA55D3]"Lord of War and bringer of death."[/color] All knew the opening words. [color=BA55D3]"Fill thy people with vigor and violence that they might be a fighting force like none this world has ever seen, that they may lay waste to their enemies and bring victory to our people and our most righteous cause."[/color]

[b]"Dami,"[/b] said all, [b]"Lord of Lords, we ask that you judge us and our cause worthy. We beg of you the wisdom to choose, always, the true path."[/b] As one, they dropped to one knee. [b]"As one, we ask you to guide us to..."[/b]

[b]"Jaadas!"[/b]

[b]Juuras!"[/b]

[b]"Tan'daxii!"[/b]

When they looked up and rose, the Dawn Fleet had passed the horizon and there was only ocean: pure and endless. [/hider]
[hr]