[IC] The King is dead, long live the King! [5/5]

[Flynn]

Lentia, capital of the grand Empire of Torivian

Elendin, the newly crowned emperor of the Torivian Empire, stands alone in his room, atop the highest tower of Stonepeak Keep. He looks out over the vast spanning city of Lentia far beneath him. It was a stormy night, rain clattering against his window as if wanting to come inside. He turns away from the large window and looks at the fireplace which one of his many new servants had lit for him earlier this hour. With a deep sigh, he approaches the flames and kneels down before them. "I wish you were still here. Here to help me learn. To understand. Why did you leave me here all alone?" He hangs his head dejectedly and warm tears slowly start to roll over his cheeks. Loud knocking on his door pulls the young boy back from his melancholic thoughts. In a hurry he wipes his tears away, stands up and tries to compose himself. "Come in!" He tries to sound confident, but a slight undertone of sadness can still be heard.

The door opens and his uncle Rurik enters the room with firm strides. He stops for a moment to look at the young boys face, but shakes his head barely visible and bows gracefully. "My liege." Elendin looks with disappointment at his uncle. He hates it when his uncle, the only close family he has left, acts so distant. Rurik doesn't notice, or simply doesn't care, Elendins disappointment. "We've received word from our messengers, that the advisers from the Grand Provinces are nearing Lentia. They are bound to arrive later this evening. It would leave a great impression on them, and thus indirectly the Provinces, to greet them in the Throne Room." Rurik looks closely to Elendins face. Then he drops his own mask, looks behind him for a brief moment, and takes a step closer to the boy. He kneels down before him and places a hand on his shoulder. "You can't show them this side of you, Elendin. You need to be a strong and proud ruler. Someone they can look up to! I know it's hard for you, but you're everything your father was. I can see that, and so will they." The man stands up once more and places his hand on the boys back, urging him to make his way to the Throne Room.

Elendin thought of his father, and how the priests had elevated him to Paragonship after his passing. If anyone was worthy of such an honor, it had been his father. Even now, in the rainy night, stonemasons were working on his statue on the Path of Paragons, the main road leading to Stonepeak Keep atop the hill. He wonders in silence if they would elevate him as well once his time came. It was something he would strife for. His people would learn to love him as they did his father.

He enters the throne room with confident strides, or at least he attempts to. He is wearing a thick red cloak with the sigil of his house depicted on the back. In his hands he holds the golden Royal Scepter, decorated with gems and jewels. He looks up ahead and sees the large throne, made from the whitest marble found in the Empire. A blood red drape hangs over the back. It was quite an imposing piece of furniture to say the least. After what feels like hours, Elendin finally reaches the throne and sits down in it. He looks out over the large room, and his eyes fixate on the giant twin doors in the middle.

It was time to meet his advisers...

[The Senate]

Lentia

The first delegation to arrive was that of the white archers from the Northern mountains: the Galmhese delegation, an entourage of six men walking into the grandiose throne room, their long robes and armour a sharp contrast to the relatively warmer climate of the Torivian province.

Four of the men were of massive proportions, each standing at least 185cm tall and all clad in silver plates and anodised blue chainmail; to their sides were attached large quivers full of white-feathered arrows, and upon their shoulders were slung long, majestic bows, carved out of mahogany and carefully inscribed with poems written in the old Galmhese script. Their heads were protected by pointed steel helmets, their faces cold and stony, well weathered by the awesome blizzards of Galmha.

They were the Khama, the elite archers for which the icy, mountainous kingdom of Galmha was famed for. So great was the Galmhese pride in the quality of their archery that less than a tenth of those who wanted to join the Corps of the Khama actually made it in; eight out of nine were rejected simply because they didn't meet height or muscular requirements, and the remaining one out of nine were forced to leave after failing to survive the harsh, spartan training. The one out of ten that remained became the sentinels of the Galmhese palaces and the guards of the royal entourages, as the four who were part of the delegation to Lentia were.

The fifth member of the delegation was a boy who was significantly shorter than the four Khama and looked no older than 18. A white cloak with gold-embossed lining was draped over his shoulders, empty arms trailing behind him; underneath that, he wore a maroon silk tunic with loose maroon trousers and a dark gold sash wrapped above his waist, as well as seamless white gloves that fit snugly on his hands and a pair of black leather shoes. Most noticeably, however, was the sword he carried at his waist; a single-handed, double-edged straight sword, its pommel and cross-guard fashioned out of bronze, its scabbard glossy and black, with a pair of white tassels dangling from the pommel.

Long had the Kingdom of Galmha been plagued with a controversy surrounding their use of borderline child soldiers; orphaned children were, under Galmhese law, under the charge of the Galmhese King, and king after king throughout Galmha's millennia-long history had decided that such children were to be drafted into the military once they had been weaned off milk. Most ended up becoming regular soldiers; a select few were trained specially and inducted into the Khama Corps; an even smaller group that showed aptitude in intellect as well as martial disciplines became specially commissioned officers at young ages, designated to command the autonomous guards of each individual court official and member of the royal family. The maroon tunic and gold sash gave the black-haired, golden-eyed boy away as one such military prodigy.

By far the most imposing of the six, however, was the man shrouded in white from head to toe, nothing but his eyes immediately visible.

Aside from the dark maroon coat he wore above his white shrouds, the only other non-white objects on him were the two broadswords hanging from his waist, the brownish-orange leather belt which held those broadswords there, and the pitch-black walking cane he carried in his left hand, tapping rhythmically as he walked down the carpet, accompanied by the boy officer and the four Khama archers, his right leg limping in a manner signifying a long-endured pain in the knee. His loose white sleeves, unadorned except for his family crests at the wrists, extended far beyond his hands, but occasionally, as he brought his cane forward with each step, one could catch occasional glimpses of his hand; it could only be described as simultaneously withered and swollen, the skin pale as a corpse and joints puffy. The fingernails were yellow and crumbly, except for his pinky, which didn't have a fingernail; the top segment was missing, amputated to stop the spread of a gangrenous area.

Mu O-yhamu Yuhamu, one of the six men and women who sat on the illustrious council of royal advisors known as the Inner Chamber, was a fearsome man. The veil he covered his face with in order to spare others from laying sight upon his rotting skin served also to wrap him in a shroud of white terror, accented by his two eyes, one piercing golden and the other clouded and diseased. His prowess as a strategist and a statesman were well known, and he was one of the few who addressed the Galmhese King by his private name rather than by his official name.

Nonetheless, deference was still owed to the newly-crowned 11-year-old Emperor of Torivian. As the four Khama formed a line, standing at attention on the nonverbal command of the boy in the maroon tunic, O-yhamu limped forward on his walking stick, stood before the throne of the new Emperor, and bowed elegantly, sweeping his arms to the side as his body bent ninety degrees at the waist, his loose white robes flowing with his almost exaggerated movements.

"Your Imperial Highness", he greeted, his baritone muffled ever so slightly by his veil. "Galmha has arrived to pay its respects."

...

[Tortoise]

"One does not simply walk up to Stonepeak!"

"Errr... why not?"

"Because," Inwin forced out with a smile, "that would be in-eloquent."

Advisor Inwin Selemont had arrived in Torivian far ahead of schedule, but since then, everything had been tumbling downhill. First their carriage broke down. Then it took days for the men to travel to the nearest village and retrieve a replacement wheel. Then all of the men who made the journey caught some sickness from the locals and had to be left with the town's doctor.

Now Inwin was about to enter Stonepeak Keep with only one bumbling idiot named "Norbert" at his side. That was hardly an entrance fit for Sinverland! He'd need more people with more fanfare, and more display! Selemont gripped to the violet pendant hanging around his neck and issued a silent prayer to nobody in particular.

"Listen, Nobert, very carefully..."
His speech started, as always, with "Do you know who I am?" It didn't get any less arrogant from there. Inwin was sure to dig up every royal favor he ever earned; every friend in power he ever made. And by the Paragons, he would dare to bring them all down on you if his exacting demands weren't met.

"Fine, fine," Nobert finally said, "I'll go tell the embassy what you need."

"What? We have an embassy here? Why did nobody tell me this earlier?"

"It's a very long walk, sir."

Inwin clutched on to his pendant a little tighter.

---

A full two hours later, his requested help had finally arrived from the embassy, wherever it was. Thank the Paragons. Inwin entered the Palace as a representative of his nation rightly should- drawing all the attention to himself.

His four Sinver escorts wielded engraved trumpets with the same importance as a soldier wielding his weapons. They wore armor, too, of the softest silk clothing, all arrayed in shades of blue or white. Their backs were straight, their steps were measured. But their manicured nails and their complacent smiles did not distract from the hardness in their eyes- each one had a stare that said "I am here on a mission." The musicians guarded Inwin, one man and one woman on either side of him, trumpets tied at their hips like swords.

Just as the Sinver brigade was approaching the beautiful white throne, Selemont heard a voice speak through even whiter cloth. "Your Imperial Highness. Galmha has arrived to pay its respects."

Ah, of course the disciplined northerners would arrive first.

Inwin strolled up elegantly before the throne... and slightly to the right, standing to the side of the cloth-covered Galhma delegate. "As has Inwin Selemont of the Sinverland Kingdoms, your Highness." The purple cloak swirled about as he bowed. His jewelry jingled just a bit.

Galhma is ineffable. It has been Sinverland's neighbor for time immemorial, but a spine of those impassable mountains has forged an eternity of difference between them. Galhma is harsh and cold, where Sinverland is soft and cool. Galhma is prized for archers and warriors, where Sinverland is known for fine wines and silver jewelry. Galmha has groups pushing for further independence, where Sinverland relies ever more on Torivian. Selemont did not understand them. Selemont did not expect to understand them.

But he did understand their language, and that was something.

With a nod in their direction, he said "I greet you on behalf of the Kingdoms of Sinverland, northern neighbors," in his politest Galhmese.

[The Senate]

If one could actually see O-yhamu's face, one would have seen a look of mild surprise at hearing the language of Galmha being spoken so far from the Galmhese lands, perfectly fluently and courteously, yet in an accent that he had not heard before.

Nevertheless, O-yhamu did not let this pleasant surprise chip away at the artificially manufactured air of diplomatic formality that he and the rest of his entourage had about them. Turning his head to make eye contact with Inwin, the ambassador of Galmha's longtime southern neighbour, the dignitary nodded and bowed ever so slightly to the other man.

"I look forward to working with you in the future", he replied, choosing his words carefully.

O-yhamu knew, better than anybody else, how fatal a slip in diction could be for any bureaucrat trying to get his way. His own father had fallen because of a verbal misstep; Teynu Khamun-yoyazai Yuhamu, a colonel in the Khama corps, was a man of great military prowess, but a rather lacking command of language. He had, on multiple occasions, accidentally offended Mynostron XIV (the father of the incumbent Hhamhakhal IX) and other members of the Inner Chamber, a tendency that wasn't helped by the fact that Khamun-yoyazai was a drunk. Eventually, when O-yhamu was 9 and Khamun-yoyazai was 51, the latter was dismissed from his commanding position and shifted to a far more ceremonial bureaucratic position. Nobody doubted the reason why.

Consequently, Mu O-yhamu Yuhamu was a man who chose every single word with the same deadly precision the Khama were trained to possess in archery.

"Tohru", he said quietly to the black-haired boy in the maroon tunic, in a less formal variant of Galmhese than the one he and Inwin had addressed each other with. "For the moment, just be on your guard. Feel free to talk to the other delegates, but be careful with your words."

Second-lieutenant Tohru Tohru-muhei replied with a silent nod of acknowledgement.

Standing at just 173cm, with a rather small build and a mop of jet-black hair brushed slightly to one side, the young officer was hardly an imposing figure, bar the sword hanging by his side. Barely 18 years old and only recently promoted to his current rank, Tohru had been trained in military command and in martial arts, but diplomacy was something completely alien to him. That much was evident from the cautious way he carried himself, as compared to the more outgoing O-yhamu.

It was hard to foresee how things would play out in the presence of the boy Emperor. This was only the second time O-yhamu had been to the capital of the Torivian Empire; the first time was nineteen years ago, long before the new Emperor was even born, and even then, it was simply to settle some menial dispute about monetary records. Back then, O-yhamu stayed only for three days, and there weren't any other provincial delegates present.

This time was far different.

[6slyboy6]

Lentia

A week before the meeting was scheduled with the new emperor, Canalis has already made his way to the embassy in Lentia, along with his sizeable entourage of dancers and musicians, two Merchant Princes looking to profit from his arrival and a small squad of Scaleguards to assure his protection. This was his 4th time in the capital, and it never ceased to amaze Canalis just how different northern cultures were to his own. From the foundation upon which the buildings were built upon to the way people of all social classes dressed, it was all an invigorating feeling to learn about the culture that finally ended the Age of Strife. Thought his last visit was nearly 10 years ago, he still vividly remembered the main square.

He spent most of the time in Lentia exploring the town's historical sites, but he the last two days he moved to the market, where he accompanied the two young Merchant Princes from Markath. Appereantly, they would be staying in the city for several weeks, bringing with them a huge surplus of supplies that they have failed to seel on a previous occasion, and were looknig to finally turn them into profit. They were quite the lively company to be around, but Canalis would have to cut short their meeting on the last day, as a messenger arrived to summon him to the royal palace. He bid fareweel to the merchants, and then departed to meet the new emperor with his own eyes, full of hope that the friendly relations between the throne and the sultanate will continue to last.

---

Canalis entered the throne room with only two of his Scaleguards on his side. Ever since the golden age of Saqquar, these fiersome woman have been the guardians of the royal families, their fanatical devotion and their training in counter-espionage and archery making them excellent bodyguards. This time they didn't carry their bows, only their shortswords were hanging from their side. They followed Canalis deeper into the throne room, their piercing gazes scanning around the room from within their ceremonial hijabs.

Finally, Canalis reached the other delegates and took his place beside them to greet the new Emperor. Clearly, the two others have already greeted the king before him, and he wasted no more time waiting idly by.

He kneeled before the throne down to one leg, and he held his right hand over his heart. His eyes were fixated on the new boy emperor, and he kept his eye contact as he bowed ever so slightly before the emperor.

"Your Majesty, I am here on behalf of the Grand Province of Saqquar to pay our respects and help you follow in the footsteps of your father. Gasto Canalis, at your service."

Canalis stood up from his position, and turned away from the emperor to take a quick glance at the other delegates. He could immideatly distinguish the Galmhese delegation from their silver breastplates and their oddly blue chainmail. He briefly remembered something about the extraordinary skill of these guardsmen, and he noted down that he needs to put his own Scaleguards in a friendly dual against theirs.

The other party however, he had trouble identifying. Thought their luxurious clothes were a big giveaway, he could not remember the name of their province for the love of the 12 Halconics. Finally, after some thought, he established that they must be from Sinverland: the only other province, the name of which he heared regularly from the 2 Merchant Princes that accompanied him.

Canalis wasn't too concerned as he examined the deleagtes. Both of the provinces lay far to the north, their impact on Saqquar was minimal both economically and politically. However, they could prove to be useful allies in the future if they can establish the friendly relations during their stay in the imperial palace. In the event that they need to be pursued about the benefical nature of this friendship, he decided that closely inspecting the way they behave is a great way to gain the upper hand in future conversations. After all, this is nothing more than a battle fought with words, and he has never lost a battle before. Canalis motioned with his hand beside his waist for his guards to come closer, and he spoke up in a formal Saqquar tounge to adress them quietly.

"Stay close and watch the advisors closely. No action should go unnoticed by your eyes, or be kept from my ears." The didn't say a thing, but Canalis knew that they got the message.

[Tangletail]

Sometime before the meeting, the news of the death of the beloved Emprorer has washed across the land just as one of the world’s most violent storms would ever manage. And like wise, just as quickly an assigned delegate, chosen from one of the King’s own – his jester had been selected almost immediately for the scheduled delegation. However, due to the intentions of nature forever working against them, the bardic delegate had been sent early to race the storms that casually threatens the inhabitants lives just to make it on time.

They would have to ride fast and hard. With a quickness unmatched by four legged beasts. And during a time where the Bridges across the chasms have been taken down in preparation for the oncoming storm. Only two raced across that treacherous landscape of the Looking Glass on the back of great raptors towards the borders of Sinverland. The bard known as Jeckle, who carried a variety of instruments with him, and several bags strapped securely to either side of his mount. And his guide, a Ranger by the name of Ingwe. The beasts they rode bounded across these large and gaping chasms in the earth like little darts. These raptors were winded, but not exhausted.
And off to their side far in the distance they can see the first signs of the approaching storm. A massive wall of clouds and sands with an hour of time before it was upon them. The first of the winds were already upon them, forcing their next leap to send them halfway down the chasms where minor shelter was present, but allowed them to continue their path at speed through a labyrinth of twisting rock. Water roared underneath them while they raced along the walls. The rapids growing into their own disastrous tides that licked at the raptor’s feet.
As the main storm cell grew closer and closer, the rumbling of the earth and the thundering roar of the rain quickly tore through the air, drowning out the droning and grunting of the raptors. The sunlight grew dimmer and dimmer. And yet through all of this, the Bard made one small comment as if none of this was happening.

“DO YOU BELIEVE THE YOUNG LAD WILL ENJOY HIS GIFT!? I HOPE HE DOES!”
-

The doors to the throne room opened up and in came Jeckle. The dark skinned bard was standing on the back of his raptor, standing tall with a broad grin of pearl white teeth. Somehow his robes were billowing in a non-existent wind. And in his arms was an elaborate Hurdy Gurdy. Perhaps, such behavior would be offensive if the raptor itself did not look ridiculous. The raptor was wrapped up in what looked like a fur coat meant for winter. Oh yes, it was a heavy coat around its legs, mittens on the hands, an improperly fitted hat, clearly meant for a human. And a heavy wrap around its tails.

This bard and delegate was for the most part alone. His Guide, Ingwe opted to wait outside of the palace halls alone. And he had made such a journey without assistants and guards.
With a tap of his foot, Jeckle urged his Raptor forward. The odd reptilian creature moved forward in a sinuous strut, allowing its rider to play a song for his own procession.

“My dear young emperor,” The bard called out, unabashed by his own foolish behavior. “My king sends his deepest regrets about not being able to attend! For his old age would make it impossible for him to race against the winds themselves to give his deepest respects for your lost father!”

Once the beast stopped, the man hopped off and stepped forward. He stopped playing for a moment to reach into a messenger bag to pull out… a cat. Well a mountain lion cub to be more specific. It wriggled around in his grip and even playfully chewed on his wrist.

“And I am afraid, my dear emperor, that life will grow much more difficult for you. For the life of an emperor is not a pleasant one. So from me to you, a companion and a gift! I wanted to get you a dog, but dogs do not fair well in my lands. But fear not! For a cougar is a much more terrifying and loyal companion! And a great hunter too!”

[Penseel]

A week earlier
Jverik

“Adelaide, my dearest Adelaide. You are perfectly aware of the mission ahead of you, but your mind is still a human one.” King Kro seated in his throne adorned with horns of the many beast that roamed the Valvran land. His cape and headband adorned with the simple linen embroidery and his tunic stained from his work on the land.

He looks more like a leader than a king, Adelaide thinks to herself. I wonder how the emperor will be?

Kro stands up looking straight at the newly appointed representative of Valvran. “You may be a kenaii now, but there is a reason court and cruel start with the same letter. And not only cruelty is going to rip your head off. Your own arrogance could be your undoing.“ The sound of the rain sounds deafening in the silence that follows. “They will have gold, frivolity’s and rows of loyal lackeys. Your mind will deceive you. You will want their gold, their luxury’s and their power. Don’t let your mind get clouded by the nonsense that is gold. The emperor asked for noble advisors. Act like one and remember your roots.“ These words hit Adelaide as lightning struck from the raging storm. It was time for this young bird to leave the nest she knew and fly straight into a hornets hive.

Current Time
Lentia

The doors of the throne room open slowly and reveal a cloaked figure who thanks the guard who opened the door for her. The guard looks surprised at this, since it’s his job after all.

With a sturdy pace she walks towards the throne, her woolen cloak and elk pelt swaying as she walks. The storm outside left her and her entire attire soaking wet. Deep green eyes look around the room, her face covered in symbols and paint, so often seen in Valvran. She puts on her most endearing smile as she walks past the other advisors. She kneels before the emperor, stretching her arms forward and folding her hands like a bowl before her.

“May your reign be as fruitful as the forests of the Valvran people, your Majesty, for my name is Adelaide Kenaii Altir and I am the representative of the lands that feed your mighty empire.” She stops for a brief moment and glances to her side at the other advisers and their entourage. A sly smile creeps on her face. “And excuse me for my humble presentation, it seems that I have lost my parade on the way here…”

[Flynn]

Elendin is sitting in his throne, with his uncle standing beside him. The young boy was slightly distracted when the large doors on the far side of the room slowly swung open. Stepping through it and approaching the throne were six individuals. Elendin recognizes their attire; these people hailed from the mountains in the north, the Kingdom of Galmha. One of the man steps forward, clearly being the adviser sent by the Kingdom. The boy is intrigued by the masked man, but knows better then to ask of it.

"You and your people are welcome in Lentia and in Stonepeak Keep. I trust your advise will be useful in times to come... uuuhh... S-... Ma-..." The boy stammers for a bit. The man actually never said his name. Was he supposed to ask him for it? Or would that make him seem forgetful? Before he has a chance to decide what to do, his uncle leans forward and whispers in his ear. Elendin seems to relax and simply nods, returning his focus back on the man in front of him. "Sir O-yhamu."

---

Elendin had managed to focus on his first arrival, but now his gaze finally wanders over the Sinver escorts. He was slightly undone by the beauty of the clothes of these people. Was it normal that an emperors subjects wore more beautiful clothes than the emperor himself? Surely not, right? But it was a vain thought, and with a quick shake of his head, dispels it.

His eyes shift between the man who called himself Inwin Selemont and O-yhamu. The young boy was learning the different languages of the provinces, but wasn't nearly proficient enough in Galhmese to follow the conversation. With a soft cough he tries to attract the attention of the newcomer. "Welcome, Sir Selemont! I'll praise the Paragons for your safe arrival. Our messengers brought news of your misfortunes along the way. We're glad to have such artistic influences present in Lentia this day." His mind was racing to think of other things the Selemont Kingdom was known for, or even what Inwin was known for... "Someone who made a fortune in such a small time is surely someone valuable to the Council of Stars."

---

A slight guilt crept up on him as he notices himself staring at the beautiful, but mysterious Scaleguards, that enter the throne room. A slight poke from his uncle brings him back to reality, and by the time he notices what's happening, the delegate is already bowing before him. With a slight feeling of guilt, he must admit to himself that he missed the first few words of the man. Luckily there was only one province that wore clothes like him. The Grand Province of Saqquar. Elendin had to admit that he didn't know much of the distant region to the south. But luckily he did know something about this man, and something he would love to learn from him.

"Gastó Canalis! Your name is often mentioned in these halls. Mainly by jealous nobles who wish they were half as good as you at Tarvak. Surely an excellent strategist as yourself is a worthy addition to the Council. I do hope you'll be able to instruct me at some point in the ways of Tarvak. Even if it's just enough to beat my uncle here." A grin spreads across the boys face but quickly turns into regret as he looks at the frowning face of his uncle. With an awkward cough he continues. "We welcome you in Lentia and in Stonepeak Keep. That your knowledge may be of use in the times to come."

---

His eyes widen as he sees a man on top of some reptilian creature. Of course he had heard of the Raptors of the Eru Barrens, but to actually see one in his... throne room of all places. And to see it dressed the way it is was something he would probably never forget for his entire life.
Elendin follows the beast with his eyes as it nears the throne. Only when the Jeckle jumps off the beast and lands in front of the emperor, does Elendin notice him. "Uhm... That is quite alright. We did not expect th-..." His sentence is cut short as he is presented a small ball of fur. His uncle steps forward to accept the gift, but is halted by a hand of the young boy. With a nod of the head he returns to his position. Elendin takes the little beast in his arms and looks at it with joy. "This is a wonderful gift! My many thanks. I shall call him Castus!" He places the little cub on his lap and begins petting it. The beast relaxes and closes his eyes as it calms down. "The logistics the Eru Barrens are known for will be useful in running this Empire. You are welcome to the Council."

---

The attention of the boy is drawn to the giant doors one last time as his last guest appears. He tilts his head as he sees the woman thanking the guard. She was the first to do so and it appeared strange to him. Thanking someone seemed like such a normal thing to do, but he was never teached to thank his servants for the things they were meant to do.

Her words rang true. Valvran was the grain storage of the nearly the entire empire. The fertile lands had been a boon in the booming increases of population across the empire. But the young boy, unknown to the sly words of the court, misses the snarky remark to his other advisers from her. "That is quite alright. Nowhere in the invitation did it say to bring a parade." He smiles at the woman, his words sincere. "The Valvran people will always hold a special place in the hearts of the Aventash. My uncle has told me plenty about how I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your skilled doctors. Your words and wisdom will surely find a suitable place among the many wise man that surround me."

---

All the delegates have arrived. Five individuals stand before the young emperor, each with their own intentions and agenda. Elendin was aware of this, his uncle had prepared him. His eyes move from the left to the right, his eyes making contact with each and every single one of them. "You are send here by your lieges because they think you are the wisest in your land. Ready to guide me and my Empire towards a better future. The motto of my family is Drah Al Saravis in old Styrian. You will better known it as Together we stand united. This motto still holds true today! The empire is made by man and woman like you. Together you will advise me to rule over this mighty empire. Together we will steer it towards a brighter future." He stands up from his throne and motions to the large door they all entered through. "You have all earned your rest for the night. All of you will be assigned a room in Stonepeak Keep. Servants will guide you to it. Tomorrow we will meet in the Chamber of Stars and discuss our first points of attention. I once again thank you all for arriving on this day and wish you a goodnight." He folds his hands together and nods towards the group.
This audience was over.

---

The storm was still going strong. Elendin is plagued by thoughts and isn't able to fall asleep easily. The boy trashes around his bed, trying to find a comfortable position... to no avail. He hopes his new advisers have a better night then he does. After a couple of hours, the young boy finally falls asleep. But even asleep, nightmares haunt him...

The next day
Elendin springs up from bed as soon as the sun rays touch his face. He had to be well prepared for the upcoming first meeting. He picks up the piece of paper from the table next to his bed. It contained the most prominent issues that plagued the Empire. His uncle had written it up for him and these were to be discussed. He had read them all over multiple times over the last couple of days, but he was still afraid of doing it wrong. Elendin shakes his head and goes to prepare for the meeting.
After being dressed by his servants and a quick (but luxurious) breakfast later, Elendin sends out multiple servants to gather his advisers and other important figures. There was much to do today, and there was no time for dilly-dallying.

The advisers are quickly round up and brought to the Chamber of Council. It is a large, round chamber with a dome as roof. The dome is decorated with small faces of several Paragons. It is said that the Paragons watch over the decisions the emperor makes, and that thus, it can never be a wrong one.
In the middle of the room stands a large triangular table with flat points. At each point stands a seat. Two of the seats have already been taken, the third one is empty. In the fist seat sits a woman of elderly age. She wears a white robe and an iron tiara. Some of the advisers may know her as Tirgana Doms, ecclesiarch of the Belief of Man. Ice cold eyes observe the advisers as they enter the large room one by one.
In the other chair sits a man of middle-age. He has a large brown beard and wears golden gilded plate armor. On the left armchair rests a helmet with a large feather sticking out. This would be Oldavan Rigter, grand-general of the Imperial Army. It is up to him to raise the levies of all the Provinces and coordinate them properly. This man seems a bit warmer of heart then Tirgana and he greets every adviser properly. He even gives a short round of praise to O-Yhamu and Saqquar respectively, commending them on the disciplined troops there Provinces provide.
The third chair isn't really a chair, but rather a less extravagant version of the throne in the throne room. Through deduction, most advisers come to the conclusion that this was where the emperor was meant to sit.
Between the points are five chairs in total, meant for the advisers. On the table, in front of each chair stands a cup of wine and paper, ink and quill.

As the advisers sit down, the time passes. After some time the large doors to the Chamber of Council open up. Emperor Elendin enters, flanked by two royal guards, wearing long spears and golden armor. They both wear a red cape with the weapon of house Aventash emblazoned on it. Next to, but a bit behind the emperor walks Rurik Aventash, ever following his emperor. The boy tries not to look nervous, but fails to do so as drops of sweat collect above his lip. He strides down the stairs and sits down in the last remaining chair. The guards position themselves behind the chair, while Rurik stands next it.

"Welcome to the Chamber of Council. It is here that the many decisions, that shaped our empire, were taken. I hope you all have slept well, and I apologize for dragging you to your duties so early." He points at Tirgana and Oldavan at the same time. "Some may know these individuals already, other perhaps not. They are the Holders of Faith and Sword. Tirgana, ecclesiarch of the Belief of Man." The woman gives a slight nod in acknowledgement. "And Oldavan, grand-general of the Imperial Army. Some of you might wonder why the table has this shape. The table symbolizes the unity of the crown, sword and faith, with the Provinces as their connections and..." Rurik leans in, whispering something in the ears of Elendin who close his mouth and looks down at the ground in response. "I... Yes. Let us move to the business at hand."

Elendin grabs into his robes, revealing a piece of paper. As he unfolds it, his hands shake visibly. "V-Very well. The first topic at hand. A group of dukes and counts north of the Torivian Province have banded together and let out a cry for... something. What they currently want is unknown to us, but we do know that they are currently in open revolt as they refuse to bow down before their rightful emperor. The provinces in question are Brevash, Comtè, Pelinque and Irva. Reports suggest that some higher nobles have taken the reigns, and that the ruling counts have nothing to do with this deceleration, but sources are vague and nothing is confirmed. Well then, my advisers, friends... How do we deal with this before it turns into a civil war?!" The boy slams his fist on the table, the sound echoing throughout the chamber till it eventually dies down...

[Penseel]

Even though the news was troubling, Adelaida couldn’t help but smile as the first rays of sunlight pierce the giant glass plate at the highest point of the dome. The giant faces of the emperors that came before young Elendin look down upon them. The young boy must feel rather intimidated to be judged by his predecessors. But know wasn’t the time to feel pity for him. It was time to help and advise him.

She tilts her head upwards and lets the warm sunlight of the morning rest upon her face. Sunlight was a bringer of inspiration and good spirits as her mentor once taught her. A plan is beginning to form in her head and after a while she stands up and breaks the silence: “I think our greatest weakness in this operation is our lack of knowledge. First problem is that we don’t know their desires and their reasons. I also find it peculiar that nobody noticed this act of treason earlier. Getting oneself in a position of power is hardly inconspicuous. Why did nobody notice until it was too late?” She shakes her head as she ponders her own question. The question was more like a silent accusation and she looks around the room in her pause, resting her eyes on each of the advisers of the emperor.

“But that is a concern for later. I believe it is in the emperor’s best interest to set up a diplomatic military mission to the provinces in question. That way we can find out what these man want, but also preserve the authority of the emperor. Bring justice upon the traitors and joy upon the common people I think it’s wise to split the council in two and let one group think over the possible military actions that could be taken and the other group will bows it’s head over the diplomatic side of things.” She looks at Rigter, Canalis and Mu O-Yhamu Yuhamu. “You men all have a good amount of military experience. I suggest you three would the lead the military side.” She looks at Selemont and Jeckle “You two have exceptional skills in trading and dealing with people or so I’ve heard.“ She smiles innocently and sits down in her chair. “But I am just spitting out some ideas. What are your suggestions or perhaps thoughts upon the plan, my dearest of colleagues and of course, my liege?“ Once more she looks around the entire room, her gaze resting on each of their faces, making a quick mental note on each of their reactions. The games had begun.

[6slyboy6]

Canalis listened to Adelaida tell them her opinion. He couldn't help but smile through the entire speech, but not out of malevolent thougths. He wanted to know how others would react to the situation, and who would be the first to try and establish a dominant position first. It seems like they had a winner in the form of this young lass. Canalis caressed his beard once Adelaida finsihed talking, contemplating how to react to her proposal. It is indeed true that he had extensive military knowledge, but in matters so similar to what Saqquar has had to deal with in the future, it is entirely feasible that he would be more useful when searching for diplomatic options. But overall, such segregation could only lead to less useful ideas. He shook his head and then spoke up.

"Great Emperor, and esteemed advisors of the realm, I wish not to sound rude but splitting up would be quite the opposite of our purpose here. We are supposed to put our knowledge together, as I'm sure I could've sent military plans for the Emperor all the way back from Saqquar. Thought it is undoubtedly for the better that we all focus on our own areas of expertise and not speak out of turn, great diplomats could have excellent strategies, and generals are often snake tounged." He looked around the room, to see the reactions of others, in particular those of Tirgana and Oldavan. They were the ones he had to impress, and not necessarely the others. "I would not be here had I no idea about diplomacy. I donn't consider myself a particularly talented individual in this area, but I have read a lot of history books. And I believe that these books have the answer we seek."

Canalis turned towards the emperor, bowing ever so slightly. "Your Majesty, I don't doubt your knowledge of the grand provinces, but hope that I'm not wrong in assuming that you've only briefly heard the name of Imam the Benevolent." He stopped for a second, letting everyone colelct their thoughts on the subject. "It was after hundreds of years of warfrare that the first of the Imam line united our nation. When he was crowned, he had problems very similar to yours my lord. He too was young, and many refused to follow his commands. Instead of warfare however, he stayed true to the Halconics and solved the issue with diplomacy. He landed princes and lords in return of royal service. But I think that we will not require to give away land. The Empire stands strong, and many nobles will be reminded of their loyalty to your bloodline by simple acts of "gratitude" for their long service, if you give them some titles. Nothing that needs to be too important, but they will surely think of it as a great honor to serve the new emperor, even if in reality their influence hasn't changed. This will undoubtedly quell the need of some lords but not all."

He turned towards Oldavan, looking into his eyes for a few seconds before continuing his speech. "Thought what I said may be disputed in our case, since we know not of their needs, I am sure about one thing: no lord would be happy to raise their levies and march against their own kin, especially not so early into your reign. You must act strong my emperor, but I feel that a military intervention will cause nothing but more harm to your name and the empire. If possible we should solve these with gifts and kind words, instead of cold steel." With his speech finished, Canalis sat down, and glanced over at Inwint, whose opinion he was very itnerested in.