A sudden gasp escaped Anita and Imast had to stop himself from spitting out the wine he was drinking as they heard Sarin was half WereDrac. “So this person…has dragon blood?” they both thought. A quick glance to each other made sure they knew they were thinking the same thing. “Imast, would you be so kind to tell Lord Sarin about our young nation? Please excuse me my Lord, I must tend to certain matters.” She said formally. But she didn’t wait for a reply but just stood up and hurried towards her chambers and called a servant inside. She began to cite a letter, one that explained that they had arrived in good health and with a warm welcome. It also told about the WereDracs, the Ursas and the Wolves. He was then ordered to leave the building, escorted of course by one of the warriors towards the harbor. From there had was ordered to find a way to the Oceanus, write that letter down and send out a dove back to Dracanica.

In the meantime Imast began telling Sarin what he thought would be sufficient: “We’re just a small nation now. We are all descendants from 5 noble families of Valhall. But our fathers fled the place because of the wars there. The founded Dracanica but turned their families into houses. Well, most of them did. You have house Muriël, mostly traders and sailors. Lady Anita is part of that house. Actually she’s the daughter of the leader. Then you have house Auraxus. Crafters and smiths. Great men, bending the flames of dr” he stopped there, forgetting his place. The secret of Dragon-forgery was to be revealed tomorrow. “-the great forge.” He corrected himself. Also leader of the farmers of our country. Then you have House Talos. That lot” he pointed at the researches feverishly trading notes and looking around. “Are members of that house? Mostly researchers and librarians. They are useful enough.” He said, but failed to mention that some of them were also mages and sorcerers. “Then finally you have the proud Templar Order. We are the warriors of Dracanica. Its shield and sword.” He said proudly. But he managed to boast some more: “I’d dare say we are one of the better fighters you could find. There isn’t much to tell aside from the houses. Well, we have some more dragons back home.” He said, before sipping his glass. Anita had then returned saying: “I hope my companion didn’t bore you with the many long story of his Order.” She joked.

In the meantime several servants approached Lara, the Ursa. Requesting if they could be escorted back to the harbor so they could board a ship and bring some more stuff for Lady Anita. It wasn’t really a lie. Some chests had to come along for the trip towards the capital. But it wasn’t the entire truth.

Gartnait, son of Galan, High Chief of all of Qritland, was not having a particularly good day. At the moment he was trying to get some relaxation in his home, but he was certain that soon someone would come barging in once again to inform him on the headache that was the dynastic incident in Epiae. At the moment he wasn't able to tell whether their chief was one of the bratty children of his late friend Galan or the cousin of their capitals' reeve! He had always hated the stresses of maintaining the Talorgian bond. The lies, deceit, bribery, bartering, it all served to make him yearn for the days of his ancestor Talorg, where a thousand men at his back charged for the glory of Pitath and the conquest of Qritland. He had always held fantasies of greater warfare, and he was sure that some other chief's did as well, but these fantasies as of late were becoming especially potent.

Through the course of his thoughts he had been leaning on one of the engraved wooden pillars holding the roof in place, near to one of the silver candle holders, upon which burnt a bright orange flame, with the tallow with which it was made slowly dripping onto the floor. There were signs that it had been without replacement for some time, as the puddle which had begun to form on the expertly constructed wooden floor had begun to solidify at its lower layers. Gartnait didn't much care, these sorts of things did not trouble him he thought as he moved his gaze towards the slowly forming puddle. He had begun to feel the need to practice more with his spear, and was about to rouse his tattooed body, clothed in a fairly comfortable whitish brown woolen tunic, from his thoughts when, as he suspected would soon happen, one of his servants barged in through the door.

The servant was wiry and old, older than Gartnait certainly, he had long suspected that the servant had worked with his father or even possibly his grandfather, but he had never probed him on the subject. He had too much to do for that sort of conversation. He was sure however that he was here to sour his mood even further, and thus Gartnait began to speak with a sigh. "What is required of me now Nechtan?"

A crease drove itself between the eyebrows of the old man's weathered and worn skin, Gartnait had seen that look before, it was a sign that he had come with news of importance. His raspy, low voice bellowed with almost unnatural vigor towards him, "Great Chief, a messenger from beyond the water, coming from a distant land, has sought you out, bringing correspondence from his master to you. He has arrived outside your door."

Beyond the water! This was truly a surprise to Gartnait, an occurrence far beyond that of the petty politics of his position! In his reaction was easily visible the effects of this announcement. Gartnait sprung to action, speedily walking towards his servant at a visibly hurried pace, to the door at the end of his dwelling past the several pillars that paralleled on both sides of his home, all of which dripping tallow onto the floor. He came close to his servant and stated officially, "Bring me to this messenger, and quickly."

They both proceeded outside. It was a particularly foggy day, and neither Gartnait nor his servant could see very much beyond the buildings that held the organs of government that held the eternal bond forged by Talorg together. Today was a convenient one for a foreign messenger (the thought!) to arrive, as Gartnait had called for the chiefs for a convening and several of them were beginning to arrive, many of which on horse, the creature with which the trendy among the nobles favored but Gartnait personally detested, partly because of the smell, partly because of the difficulty of riding them, but mostly because he saw them as nothing but a tool for the sending of correspondence. Let the mailmen have their horses and the warriors have their spears[i] thought he.

Both Gartnait and his servant proceeded down the beaten dirt road towards this messenger. His clothes were made of some sort of cloth foreign to the island, from what Gartnait could garner at first glance. However, their visibly fine weave had shown various signs of stress, probably due to the fact that getting to Qritland from anywhere is a very, [i]very difficult challenge that only some of the most adventurous traders even dare to attempt, however a diplomat was unprecedented. The messenger was escorted by two armored men, their armor no less frayed by the journey. In front of both the diplomat and his escort was clearly a trader of foreign background, given that he had a different shade of skin and, parallel to his side, a wagon was drawn loaded with goods, however he at least had a mind to wear the typical dress of Qritland unlike the diplomat.

Nechtan the servant stopped at the side of the trader, in front of the wagon, and said towards Gartnait in his unnaturally young voice, "This trader from Atath is familiar with the tongue of the messenger, and has come to act as an interpreter."

Gartnait stroked his beard in interest. He gestured for the messenger to speak. The messenger began to talk in his strange dialect, Gartnait couldn't understand him in the slightest, but the trader, from the expression on his face, seemed to know what the diplomat said. After he spoke a bit, the trader translated what the diplomat said in his clearly foreign accent, "Leader of this nation, this diplomat comes from the Empire of Valhall, within which they have successfully resolved their civil war and have united their continent under their banner. His leader, Caylor Brant, Emperor of Valhall, Protector of Man, has sent his offer to all nations ruled by humanity. Should your nation swear their allegiance to the Empire of Valhall and choose civility over barbarism..." Gartnait visibly scowled at this statement, "...you shall be placed under the protection of the Empire of Valhall. Should you deny the Empires' generous offer of hospitality, the Empire of Valhall and their righteous allies shall declare war upon you after three full moons have passed, and the Great War for Mankind shall begin."

Gartnait, before expecting offers of riches or alliance, found that some foreign nation, this so called 'Empire', from across the waters, was expecting that the people of Qritland be subservient to them? Gartnait had become displeased. Very displeased. In the seconds that the words began to fully sink in, Gartnait felt a great fury rise through him. He did not quite remember exactly what happened after that fury had boiled over, but he was sure it was unpleasant, as within the next few minutes the ground had been soaked with blood, two mangled corpses, what remained of the escort, lay haphazardly stacked on one another off the side of the path, and the messengers face had been beaten to a pulp, with a couple of his ribs busted open. His arms and legs were bound, and his mouth was tied so he would stop wailing in pain. It was at this point that Gartnait calmed down a little, just enough to as to make some coherent logical thought.

While he had initially planned to kill the messenger who had so rudely strolled into his home and demanded his island and his people from him, likely through the most gratuitous and painful methods of torture, he realized that the message would not be carried very well that Qritland had denied Valhall's demand unless there was actually somebody to relay the message. And while having their messenger beaten to a pulp was enough, it didn't carry as much of a point as Gartnait wanted to make.

Gartnait turned towards the trader, who, besides having received a single punch to the face, had managed to stay out of the conflict relatively unharmed. "Can you write in their tongue?" Gartnait asked him, the rage still audible in his voice. The trader nodded, obviously still scarred from the acts he had just witnessed. The trader dug through his cart and pulled out some thin material, similar to animal hide but far thinner, as well as some instrument, probably for writing the words themselves. He used what little space he had on his loaded cart to prepare to write down Gartnait's message to be relayed with the messenger by a Qriythonic escort to the Valhallan ship that had landed in Atath...

"To the most abominable and detested Caylor Brant, Emperor of Valhall;

Your message to the people of Qritland has been carefully weighed and considered, and we have decided that you and your so called 'Empire' can retreat to the deepest depths of the pit within which your loathsome and most obnoxious people crawled out of. Your nation is deserving of nothing more than the utmost detest, your arrogant and wicked attempts to usurp the sovereign Qriythonic people shall be met with nothing less than the most vigorous opposition to your barbaric and unjust claim to power. We Qriythons seek not association with your distasteful and permeably odious nation, and we politely ask that you keep your most filthy and meddling hands away from our land.

With the lowest regards;
Gartnait, Son of Galan, High Chief of Qritland."

Lara would smile and stand to lead the servants, gathering her great-sword as they passed the shrine. As they group exited, it was the normal fare of Lara walking alongside the servants as the walked down the road towards the docks. Only this time the group wasn't alone. In a dark, deserted alley a figure sat motionless, its coloration making it seem to melt into the background. Even the alert Lara missed it, a very rare occurrence. After the small group passed the figure detached itself from the shadows and silently made its way forward into the moonlight. The pale beams revealed it to be a medium sized wolf, with a matte grey coat and icy blue eyes, that watched with an intelligence that betrayed its wolfish appearance. Silently following the group, the wolf stuck mainly to the shadows to avoid detection.

Within the house Sarin smiled "Ah, he did not. I found it quite intriguing." Around them the house's servants would begin to clean up the dishes, the Wardens helping when they would not get in the way. A few of them began to pull heavy quilted blankets and a lighter blanket from their gear bags, setting the heavier blanket down on the floor at points around the garden. Somewhere in the the house a bell rang once more, signifying the end of dinner. At this bell the mood of the Lacrian's changed noticeably, they begain to speak in softer tones, a few games that involved bone dice began, though they remained quiet. Sarin turned to the two sitting next to him "Lord Imast, would you like to play a round, its a simple game really. The same offer goes to you Lady Anita, though if any of you would prefer the library is open to you, or you can turn in for the night."

Empire of Valhall, Caylor Brant
Caylor Brant entered his council chamber. It was a massive room. On his left and right there was a tribune. The right filled with almost three times the people than the left one. Most of them were fat, old or ugly. Sometimes a combination of the three. They were richly dressed in bright velvet. Some of them were farm lords, trade princes and others representatives of guilds. Each held a high position in the economic world of Valhall, there was no doubt to that.

On his left the Tribune was mostly empty. The front row was filled with older looking men. White beards and bald caps. But dressed in leather and metal scales. They were the military arm of the council. Representatives of Orders whom bent the knee to Emperor Caylor. Mercenary generals seeking fortune and gold at the newly risen court. Even a few former self-proclaimed Pirate-Kings who sought the fortunes of Valhall.

He walked in the middle of the unlikely company. He was the glue that kept it all together. Without him, each of them would fall back to their old, miserable lives in which fight and dying was a daily threat. He was their shield against that. He knew it and he knew that they knew.
He finally passed the tribunes and took his seat on a raised stone platform. On it, an throne stood. It was carved out of a massive block of silver, softened by cushions and filled with rubies, sapphires and diamonds. On each side of him, 2 wooden chairs stood. On his far right sat Erneos. Then came Michael. On his left hand sat Nero and on his far left Magnus. This was his retinue. His most trusted advisors.

Erneos’ past was filled with mystery. He never talked about it. But he knew things. Things he wasn’t supposed to know. And more importantly, he knew how to use that. He was Valhall’s spymaster. The people called him the Lord of Darkness.

Michael was a trader prince once. A wealthy one. He joined Caylor during his unification of Valhall and was now his chief trade administrator. People called him the Master of Gold.

Nero was his general and supreme commander of the army. Infantry, cavalry or ship, all had to follow his command. He was a gifted commander and won many battles for his Lord. People called him the Master of Steel.

Finally, Magnus was his Head Magister. A mighty sorcerer whom also trailed his friendship with Caylor back to the beginning days of the unification. He was a proud man and capable when it came to Magicks. There for he was also a fear man. People called him the Master of Crystals.

“Let the first messenger in.” he commanded from his throne. The doors swung open. Two guards escorted a single man inside. He walked up infront of the stone steps and stopped, bowed and never looked at Caylor. “My lord, I bring a message from barbaric land.” And with that the messanger began to read his letter out loud. Caylor had trouble to keep his anger at bay. His face reddened with every word. He wanted to shout stop. But he knew he had to finish the letter. Finally, the man finished. He took a deep breath. “Erneos, what do you know about this place?” he asked, while murmur broke among the tribunes. “Not much, my lord. The place is barely visited.” He said. But then Michael broke his words: “My lord. I remember to once have seen a trader selling silver baring that name.” he said. “Silver would be a good bonus, no doubt. But I need maps. Coasts.” He said. “Little coasts, I’m afraid, my lord.” Said the messenger. “The place is surrounded by cliffs. There is a little bit of coast here and there. But very difficult to reach. “Nero. Prepare the army. Send out scout ships. I want to know where the coasts are. These words must be punished with an iron fist.” He said still containing his anger.

---

And so it happened. Little fast ships went forth, starting to explore the coasts of the massive lands. While there was an explicit order not to set foot on the land, some former privateers thought a little walk wouldn’t harm anyone. What would they find on the strange lands of Qrithland, they often thought.

Dracanica, Lady Anita and Templar Imast
The servants were on edge. It was easily noticed. None of them were armed. They didn’t like the fact that they had to walk the dark roads of an unknown country. None of them noticed the wolf following them. Soon the port came into view. Much to their relief. Now they only had to take a ship waiting for them or signal the Oceanus.

“Forgive me, my lord. I’m afraid that I must take my leave. It would do a lady good to sleep in a real bed on the ground rather that one on a rocking ship.” Lady Anita excused herself from the table. But first she walked up to the researchers who were busy comparing notes. She told them about the access to the library. Like starved dogs finding a pile of food they headed to the library. Small chance that they would sleep tonight. Imast then turned to Sarin. “A game? Yes, I would gladly play.” He said with a smile. In the meantime, his Templars took their leave. Some went to sleep, others joined the guard for their weapons at the shrine.

Sarin smiled and laughed softly "Alright then Lord Imast. The rules of the game are quite simple." He pulled two dice from his own bag, along with two diamond shaped wood counters, one red, the other blue and set everything on the clear table as he moved to sit across from Imast. "The game itself is a betting game, though for demonstration purposes no one will lose any money this round. the goal is to win by having more rolls than your opponent by the time they go out, or by rolling two routs in a row, which is just a pair of double sixes. You go out by rolling double ones two times in a row, appropriately named a dull, or running out of rolls. You run out of rolls when the number on your counter would reach zero." He held up one of he counters to show that it actually had 10 faces, each face containing a number from 1 - 10. "You lose a roll by rolling higher than your last roll. if you get doubles two times in a row you get a free roll, the only exceptions are once more the double sixes, which win the game, and the double ones, which lose the game. After each roll loss you pass the dice and turn your counter down. So.." He held out his hand with the dice resting on his open palm "Still want to play?"

As the small group entered the port the wall guards would light a series of small signals, signaling the Oceanus to return to port. As the waited Lara stood with the servants, talking to them if they wished. Further down the port the wolf sat, watching and listening.

Imast scratched his head in confusion. “I’m not sure I got that all right. Ah well, no trouble I guess. Just tell me if I do something wrong. I probably will.” He said. “And the betting…” he looked over at Anita, who was just on her way towards her chambers. “I’m not very sure that my Lady would like that.” But he sounded unsure. He wanted it a little. He loved a good game.

Some servants tried to talk to Lara. But they found it rather difficult talking to her. Especially after they heard she could change into a bear, which frightened them. They tried to hide it, but they were bad at it. Eventually the boat arrived and it carried them towards the Oceanus. A few chest were readied and in the meantime two doves were taken out. Each given the same message and then released, making sure that the message would arrive.

- Susa, Throne room of King Zarir II -

"My King, a messenger." the tanned man had fallen to a knee before addressing his monarch.
"From what land?" questioned the king. He liked hot days, sitting in the great hall with the wind blowing the magnificent satin curtains and wrapping them around the tall stone pillars that encased the room.
"From Valhall my King." this caught the attention of Tourak who slid his hand away from his queens in an attempt to concentrate.
"What do they want?" An unannounced message concerned Tourak, he had knowledge of Valhall having traded with them in the past but they did not send messengers for anything but serious matters. His own messenger stood before announcing the reason for Valhalls presence.
"Give fealty, or be invaded." He begun, noticing the anger seep across his kings expression almost immediately. "The nation of Valhall, under the new leadership of the true emperor Caylor wishes the fealty of Parsa and its lands. If this demand is not met with unconditional favor the good emperor Caylor will unleash a weapon of devastation that will reduce Parsa to ash." The king stood and kicked a golden plate full with wine and bread in rage, his roar was heard throughout the corridors or his palace.
"Why was I not made aware of this, this new Emperor!" His queen recoiled in fright as she noticed a fire within her husband that had not been unleashed since he was a young warrior. "Send for Kazem! Now!" throwing his hands and ushering the messenger to hurry he watched as the terrified man scurried from his throne room as quickly as his legs could allow.

Minutes later Kazem Majidi, the most highly regarded diplomat and personal adviser to the king appeared. "My king, you sent for me?" He dropped to a single knee as did everyone in the presence of the king, even his most trusted officials.
"Why am I being threatened by Valhall." his tone was more of an order than a question which confused Kazem for a second. "The 'new' emperor Caylor has demanded the fealty of my country, of my people. Who is he to demand this!?" pacing from side to side the King was infuriated.
"Please, my king. You allow your anger to cloud your eyes. Take a moment and we shall discuss this development to the betterment of Parsa." Kazem was lucky to be so trusted, as if anyone but him had told the king to calm himself they would find their families head upon spikes before their own.
"How is this possible Kazem? do we not have our people across the seas? we should have had warning, we should have had information before they ever reached our shores." He slumped back into his throne, appearing tired from his sudden outburst of anger. His queen, Aliyeh, embraced him softly hoping to calm her husband.
"We did have people in Valhall my king. It appears that in conjunction with this new order our spies were rooted out and killed, at first we thought this was simply a matter of ineffectual covers but it seems now as though they were actively sought out and...dispatched.

The king stood, his eyes blazing. "Call a meeting of the Oligarchs, I want all my officials and advisers there." Kazem bowed in agreement and slowly turned to back out of his kings throne room. Tourak sat and turned to his queen. "I want you to use your spies my love, I want to know who has bowed and who hasn't to this terror of our time." Aliyeh opened her mouth, the scent of her perfume sending Tourak into a daze. "I will my king" she spoke softly, like honey dripping from a wooden spindle. Queen Aliyeh was known as the most beautiful woman to have walked the earth, and whilst that was enough of a reason for Tourak to marry her it seemed she was much more valuable, being incredibly intelligent and having networks of spies in almost every land that Parsa could stretch its influence to. She is as important to Parsa as the king.

The next morning

The Wardens were busy, they had been sense before the predawn breakfast. Each of the warriors was busy securing their weapons and belongings for the horse ride back to the capital, or helping one of the foreigners secure their belongings to the extra horses. At the head Sarin was nearly finished with his own horse, but for now he sat and waited for the others to be finished, mindlessly tossing a silver in the air, watching as it caught the dim torch light. This was in fact on of two silvers that Imast had lost the night before. Sarin smiled, it wasn't that Imast was a bad dice player, he just didn't know how to read the dice or how to quit while ahead, either way the game last night had cost him. As he flipped the coin he was approached by the Warden captain "Sir!" The captain bowed and moved into a relaxed stance "We are all ready, just waiting on the last of the foreigners and the Ursas."

Sarin nodded "Good work, now help the foreigners as much as you can, as for the Ursas they should be along any minute now." Sure enough almost as soon as Sarin had finished talking two large bears, on black the other brown lumbered out of the house, special armor hung from their body along with their packs, which were strapped to their sides. The moved to ether side of Sarin and sat, waiting for the go ahead.