[IC] Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

[Klomster]

The room was a nice one. With nice stained elmwood furniture decorated with the odd red pillow and drape. Claus had shortly after his meeting with the rulers of the castle just decided to retreat in silence and try to find a room.

He had ordered some servant to just show him the room that had been prepared for him, while the servant was confused since no room had been prepared Claus had simply just feigned anger and the servant just guessed that he was supposed to have a room.
Luckily Grandin and Cathryn Tuania had lost interest in the mercenary captain when the truth of the battle had emerged, when they learned that Claus had acquired a room they reasoned that he after all deserved a room and some rest.

His room also had a rather broad bed with fresh bedding material, Claus in truth didn't even care that there was bedding material in it at all. The fact it was a bed that he could collapse in was more than enough for the weary captain and he had done so after barely dressing down to his gambeson, a few pieces of his armour still on, but none of the bigger more uncomfortable ones.
The expensive suit of armour, now scattered over the floor and the red carpet like the clothes of lovers preparing for a wild night.

He had slept for the better part of a day when he first awoke, only then did he dress down to his actual braies and tunic, got a servant to bring him a hefty meal before sending a verbal note for his men to take into inns in the town of Wellstone, the company would pay.
Following that he returned to bed, slept another full night before getting back to being a normal person.

His sleep filled with scenes from battles, elephants made from dark mist with glowing red eyes, charging towards him. Elves in armour and cloth fighting each other and his men. All within a burning fungi forest.
He didn't know, but he had gotten a fever after the march. Luckily for Claus he being a staunch individual he managed to fend it off rather easily.
He awoke with a wet rag on his forehead, snapping up into a seat and wildly panting and gaining his bearings, the rag flung onto his lap.
Claus didn't normally suffer from nightmares, but when he did they were grim and filled with monstrous beings and horrid battles mashed together with events from his past.

He located a glass of water nearby, which he gulped down most of before drenching his face and kneading his eyes.
-"I hate bad dreams." Claus spoke, to none in particular. He figured he was trying to pamper himself or something, it didn't work.
He got up and walked around the room, his armour was oiled and assembled on a stand. He admitted, he'd always want servants for himself. It made life so much simpler.
He picked up his helmet, it was visible the servants had a hard time trying to assemble the helmet, the visor had been bent and had a large dent in it with a slight gash from the spear throw it had suffered. It gave the whole helm a bit of a slackjaw feeling.

As he tilted the helmet and inspected it Claus noted his reflection in it again, the bruise had gotten a lot better. There was a proper mirror in the room which Claus used to inspect his face, as he grimaced and ran his fingers across his swollen cheek as he accidentally touched his largest scar he began to follow it instead, going up over the nose and towards his eye.

His fixated trance was violently interrupted when someone knocked on the door and slowly entered.

-"Oh, you are awake sir?" A servant carrying a tray with some simple cleaning utensils and a jug.
Claus didn't stare too long at him like an idiot, his face quickly adorned with the telltale smirk of his as he said.
-"No simple bruise will keep me down, after all i am a mighty mercenary captain!" The last part he put his right foot on top of a leg rest and made an obvious mocking of himself.
-"Oh, there is a letter for you sir." The servant informed as he took forth the sealed scroll and handed it over. Claus took it and motioned on his bruise as he read the letter, the servant began treating it while Claus read.

It was an important letter he could tell, the stamp the wax and the papers quality, just the fact that it was paper told this as well.
He read it letter by letter. Being of a more common background, he wasn't used to the fancy letters of lords with their swanky lines.
-"Patrick De Reimer ey?" Claus exclaimed with a smile.
-"News travel fast in Formaroth it seems, one could almost believe he was spying on me." Claus mockingly kept going, he stepped down from his pose and sat down in the red voluminous armchair.
-"Who am i kidding kid, of course he is spying on me. He's not stupid. Stupid rich people don't tend to stay rich for long, they either get poor or dead rather soon. Seeing he's still around means he's a clever one." Claus haphazardly schooled the servant who was busy wadding his forehead.
-"Of course sir." He said.
Claus realized what he was doing and made a humoured smirk before adding.
-"You however probably know this?" He was met with a nod.
-"Then i'd like to meet the lord and possibly his wife, i have a meeting to attend!" Claus stood up and proclaimed as he pointed towards the ceiling.
-"And whom might you be seeing? So i can inform my lord Tuania?" The servant professionally held back his frustration after being interrupted for the third time in a row.
-"Andrew... Manshrew." Claus added a dramatic pause while pointing, the notion was lost upon the servant whom happily bowed and left.

He had underestimated that pompous desert dweller during the meeting in Nyhem, his nice garb and pleasant attitude. Devious bastard Claus thought. He however didn't hold him in contempt, after all, he had bested him in an aspect of combat, that on its own merited respect. Claus contemplated his feelings about Andrew while dressing in some more proper clothes before leaving the room.

The hallways were nicely decorated, with tapestries and drapes and a nice long carpet in most of the corridors. A lot of black and white. The house crest with the white wolf could be seen here and there.
Claus was enjoying himself for a while, momentarily before being starkly reminded of reality when he spotted Orland Tuania.
Orland visibly jumped a bit when realising that Claus was closing in on him in the corridor, however Claus smiled and closed in with a nice gait which made Orland stay and listen.
-"Sir Orland, i have something i want to tell you." Claus told in a most kind and warm voice. Almost pleasant.
-"Oh, and what is that?" Orland was surprised and smiled nervously, as he watched Claus stop about half a metre away from him.
Claus just stood there, with a slight smile and looked at Orland... before he grimaced a violent scowl and with most of his might rammed his knee in between Orlands legs so he began to topple.
Claus however grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to face him, the scowl distorted and Claus grunted before head butting him so hard that Orland was instantly knocked out and Claus lost his bearings a short while.
-"That... was... so REFRESHING!!!" Claus roared out as Orland half consciously winced on the floor. A young boy, probably just past ten in fine clothes rushed to the fallen man and screamed out.
-"Brother!?" He fell to his knees next to the anguished young man on the floor.
Claus stopped, turned around and dug forth a silver coin which he tossed to the boy.
-"That should cover any medical expense, i am 'so sorry'" He mocked and walked off.

He needed to see his men, yesterday... but now would have to do.

[Ellri]

Hindsight is a wonderfully annoying thing. Or at least Urd felt that way. How was she supposed to approach the person who she didn’t know at all yet who was supposed to be her father? Should she simply approach the palace and say ‘I think you’re my father?’

Not only did that feel wrong, but who would believe such a statement? Let alone how would she get anywhere near him? With the war going on, there was no way strangers would be permitted to approach the king. ‘Huh,’ she thought to herself. If he was her uncle and her father was the ruler of Cawanor. . . Would that make her a princess or a merely a very high noble? How strange would that be?

Even if it were acknowledged, how would that affect her life? Did she even want that? She really wasn’t sure. Too many unknowns. If this war turned bad, would that paint a target on her back? Or rather, another target on her back? Did she really need that?

She’d been in Nyhem several days already, but had decidedly not mustered up the will to go to the royal palace. Even venturing close had made her uncomfortable. With nothing else to do, she frequently went out walking. With the frequent crowds out in daytime, she greatly preferred doing so at night. If anything, the darkness made the city seem larger.

To avoid attracting undue attention, she kept her shades from manifesting. Even if she had heard rumors about mages being treated better than they had been under the previous king, blatant displays were not wise. Laws did not help much against an uneducated mob. So far as she knew, nobody could be unkilled, no matter how illegal their murder had been.

Her path slowly wandered through the city. She had no particular goal in mind. If anything, her goal might have been to see the city. She did not expect anything untoward to happen. Why should she? Few people were about, even fewer did anything other than mind their own business. Just the way Urd liked it, really.

But the peaceful night was not to last. From a narrow alley some distance ahead, she spotted the gleam of bared steel reflecting the light from a nearby torch. Another person, a woman by the looks of it if her narrow shoulders was anything to go by, was not far from just that alley. Urd did not have time to shout a warning before the two thugs whose hands held the gleaming steel burst forth, plunging a pair of long knives into the back of the tall, cloaked figure without speaking a single word.

The assassins—for the knife-wielders could be nothing else—drew back their knives just afterwards and turned towards Urd, beginning to run. As their victim fell, the hood slid back, revealing a pale face crowned by long, raven-black hair. In the dim light, it was hard to tell who the person could be, but something seemed vaguely familiar, as if Urd had seen the person before somewhere.

She had no way of knowing why these assassins had struck, nor if they intended to eliminate any witnesses. With them running straight towards her, their blood-soaked daggers in hand, Urd reacted instinctively, calling up her magic. Moments later, well before the two assassins got anywhere close to her, her wolflike shade appeared right before her, its jaws open and snarling.

Urd edged back, even as the assassins seemed unnerved by the appearance of a shade. One of them spoke softly, “you’re not supposed to be here. Not supposed to see this.”

They did not attack, but seemed in fact eager to get away. She paid no heed to the woman. Even if the assassins had not been there, she wouldn’t have known anything about treating such wounds. But they were there, so she had to deal with them. The other assassin spoke next, his voice even deeper than that of the first one. “Go. I’ll handle this. There can be no witnesses. Report the success.”

The first assassin nodded “As you wish.” then sidled around her wolf before running off, quickly disappearing into one of the countless alleys. The second one looked straight at her. “Now you will die, mage.”

“I think not.” Urd replied, giving a silent command to her shade. It jumped forward, grabbing the assassin’s arm in its jaws. He stabbed at it, but that seemed to only be moderately effective. The Shade grew immaterial where he stabbed, but took no apparent harm otherwise.

“Don’t bring a knife to fight a summoner.” As she said this, she raised her hand, summoning forth a small sphere of pure fire. While it would be better to bring the assassin in alive, to hand him to the authorities, there was no telling what he was capable of. She had no means of restraining someone like that. Thus, she tossed the small fireball straight at the assassin, guiding it around her shade. The moment his clothes lit on fire, her shade let go of him. The fire spread rapidly, making Urd feel more than a little uncomfortable inside. Why, why, why had she used fire and not ice? Seeing people burn was not fun. And once released, the fire itself was no longer magical. It could not be snuffed out.

The sight made her so sick that she couldn’t stand it. Using most of her reserves, she summoned a vast gust of raw ice magic, encasing the burning assassin in a block of ice. Rather too much really. She really should know better. Just because the assassin had been told to report to whomever had hired them, did not mean that he actually would do that. And how exactly was she supposed to get this block of ice to any reliable place?

She looked about. As could be expected, no carts simply stood around. She couldn’t leave the assassin here, and ideally she couldn’t leave their victim either, but with her energy so spent, there was no way she’d be able to move them both. Besides, wasn’t there something about not moving wounded people before they were treated?

Looking towards the woman, she saw no immediate movement. She was probably dead, and she did not know how to verify. Besides, even if she wasn’t dead, she probably wouldn’t live long. Especially not if she moved her. Better to use her last reserves to move the assassin ice block and report the incident to the city watch.

With that decision made, she set to work. Alteration seemed to be the logical choice for moving the block. Moving something that large would’ve been impossible for her without magic. But with magic, she easily made it so that, at least temporarily, the block had no weight at all. Then she grabbed a tassel of cloak poking out of the ice, lifted the block up and dragged it along, her shade watchfully moving at her side.

By this time, darkness had completely fallen. The streets hardly had anyone at all around, and whenever she did spot any, they all ran inside at seeing her pulling along a huge block of ice hovering in the air as if it weighed nothing. Granted, the presence of a lupine shade probably didn’t help.

In fact, she didn’t encounter any guards until she got within a few streets of the palace where a company of the city watch had their barracks. She knocked on the door, waiting for response.

After a minute or two, a small shutter slid open. “Whaddaya want?” a grumpy voice, attached to a squinty-looking face, said.

Urd smiled as kindly as she could. “I caught this person trying to kill someone in the streets over in the western riverfront district. His companion ran off, so I couldn’t stop him. Oh, and their victim still lies in the street there. I don’t know if she’s alive, and I have no means of treating her.”
Just as she said this, her reserves ran out and the till-then hovering block of ice fell straight down, landing with a loud thump, several icy shards leaping about on the cobbled street. Urd could feel the weakness within her body. She felt cold and hot all at the same time.

“Oh, and could you get me to the plucked hen? That’s the Inn I’m staying at. I will repay you for the service.” As she said this, she collapsed into unconsciousness, far more spent than she thought she was. If he responded, she did not hear it.

[ZB1996]

The day’s hearings had been long and tedious. Duncan was currently in the main hall sitting on his throne with Alex standing by his side. They had spent the entire morning listening to the various ramblings of praise and trivial complaints from the numerous nobles of the court. Right now he was listening to whining of Lord Ademar. Once again the peasants that lived on his land were refusing to pay their taxes and he was now asking the crown to send troops to enforce the law. Of course the peasants wouldn't have rebelled in the first place had Ademar not continuously raised his taxes.

"I understand your predicament Lord Ademar, but most of the imperial army is fighting the Manshrew Alliance in Telmarion at the moment. The few left behind are needed to keep order in Nyhem," Replied Alex once Ademar had finally finished his rambling.

"But if these peasants are left unpunished, then their actions will surely influence peasants elsewhere. If we don't deal with this soon we could have a full rebellion on our hand!" Ademar said loudly. Though he was clearly exaggerating, he was able to convince the various other court nobles who had gathered in the hall so as to watch the hearings. Their murmurers of agreement and nodding heads clearly showed that they were in agreement with him. Though Duncan knew this matter was entirely Ademar's fault he still had to take his side on this matter. After all, appeasing the royal court was the entire point of these hearings.

"I will send twenty of my personal guard to handle this Lord Ademar. They should be more than sufficient for this task." A smile of satisfaction grew on Lord Ademar's face; he had accomplished what he had come here to do. Not only had he found a way to stop his troublesome rebels, but the fact that the king was sending his own bodyguards would make him the envy of the other nobles. Yet his smile quickly disappeared once Duncan started speaking again. "However I warn you that if you continue to be unable to control the land that I have given you then I will give it to someone who can. Understood?"

"Certainly sir. And thank you, your grace," stammered Ademar as he bowed before hurrying out of the room. Duncan let out a hidden sigh as the last hearing of the day was about to commence. Alex took a step forward before calling:

"Sir Lycaon Issorat, please approach his grace."

Lycaon approached King Duncan, his pristine steel armor shining, as Alex gave the proper announcement. Lycaon had brought only a small amount of people with him; two of his trusted knights and four servants carrying a chest were all who came with him. There was Sir Daeleth, an old and dear friend who Lycaon would entrust his life to, and Sir Antony, a young and inexperienced knight whom Lycaon saw much potential in. It was truly a pain to always remain in plate armor, excepting the helmet, even in public settings, but it was necessary to keep up appearances. Lycaon had been gone for a long while now, and had been disconnected from the deeper intrigues of the court, but now he was going to rejoin it all. He couldn’t say that he had missed it, but he also knew that it would not do at all for him if he were to continue to be withdrawn from it. Lycaon strode into the great hall, where the court had gathered, and saw the Snake sitting comfortably on the throne he had stolen from John the Last.

Lycaon waited for his turn in order to talk to the new King. He heard the mutterings of nobles as he approached, and was immediately reminded of worse times. He recognized some of the nobles from years past, when he had been active in the court of the previous Kings. Many, however, he did not recognize. It seemed that much had changed in his long absence. He heard a little of their mutterings and whispers, some who wondering why he had returned, some snickering at him, all of them wondering what it was he was going to say to King Duncan.

“Salutations, my King,” said Lycaon, with a pleasant slight smile on his face, and he was bowing to him on his knee. “I bring you not any news of disasters or request, but rather a gift. Know, my King who ever has the blessings of the gods, that the Holy Order of Saint Elenor dutifully serves as your shield and sword, should you ever need it of it. I must apologize for not arriving sooner, for Church business had urgently called me away.”

It was then that Sir Daeleth motioned the servants, and they went ahead of their master, Lycaon, and towards Duncan, though far away enough from him so that his guards would not be wary of them. One of the servants opened the wooden box to reveal a number of gifts. There was an odd sword, beautifully crafted and unlike that which is seen anywhere in the Kingdom, as well as a number of fabrics, and the rest of the chest was filled with gold.

“The Church, humbly expressing their continued support of your gracious reign, has endeavored to have me deliver to you a number of things which by right belong only to you,” said Lycaon. “I give to you gold a token of gold, a dozen pearls, and a golden crown once worn by great Queen Ysabelle herself in years past. I know not why, how, and when the Church came across it, but it only seemed proper that it all was to be returned to you. I request of you nothing save that you know that the Church and all of its affiliates forever are with you.”

Duncan's eyes widened at the sight of Lycaon’s gift. Though it was not uncommon for subjects to give gifts to their monarchs during these hearings, he had never seen nor heard of someone giving this much. There was enough gold in the chest to fund a small army. Many of the court nobles gasped at the sight of the knight’s gift and conversed among each other far louder than they had previously. As grand as the offering was, Duncan knew that no one gave a gift like this without expecting some sort of reward in return, despite what Lycaon claimed. Duncan paused as he waited for the room to quiet down.

"I greatly thank you for this gift, Sir Lycaon, and I am more than happy to accept, though I must question how you came into possession of this and under what authority you have to give it to me. Surely the churches, 'donations', are managed by High Cleric Mildred," Duncan said suspiciously. He knew that this man had acted outside of Mildred’s orders. After all, in all the years he had known the High Cleric, she had never given so much as a single bronze coin to anyone, let alone a chest with enough gold to make the Ironbarks envious.

Lycaon knew that Duncan was suspicious, and he supposed that such a feeling was only natural, for the Grand Cleric was indeed a miserable and selfish human being. Nonetheless, Lycaon’s expression remained unchanged.

“Indeed, my King, her holiness the Grand Cleric Mildred is in charge of all donations,” Lycaon said. “And I am but her emissary.”

What Duncan did not know was the situation in which Mildred had agreed to part with it. She was very greedy, but she eventually had assented with these trinkets when Lycaon promised her that it would mean for her great power. He also had to give to her one additional favor, and that fortunately already was already dealt with. On a whim she desired Sir Antony, and Lycaon gave him to her for a night. The gold was his own, anyway.

"I see," Duncan replied, still suspicious of the event that had just transpired. "In which case, please give the high cleric my deepest thanks and assure her the money will be spent on helping the people of Formaroth." Not that Mildred would care how it was spent, he thought to himself. Knowing Mildred, she would only be willing to give this much away if she wanted something of huge significance. The question was what? Duncan paused for a moment as he stared at Lycaon, the man's name seemed familiar, though he could not place where he had heard it.

"Tell me Sir Lycaon, your title seems familiar to me, however to my shame I am unable to remember where I have heard it before?"
Lycaon was surprised by this, and worried. People rarely are glad to meet old enemies, and even excepting the odd situation the post-bellum world had created, that in general remained true.

"I apologize, my King," Lycaon said. "I shall try to the best of my ability to answer my sovereign's question, but I am unsure if my answer shall prove satisfactory. I am the founder and Grand Master of the Holy Order of Saint Elenor. We are not an order too great in age, but we have been active a number of years. We have done much in charity work, I must say. In this very city, in fact."

"I see," Duncan said. So this was the leader of the Order of Saint Elenor. Though the man's identity still eluded Duncan, he had heard about his order and their various actions throughout Nyhem during numerous council meetings. Until now he had never paid them much mind. After all, they had been little more than a small band of knights working for the church. Duncan had no idea that their influence over the Church and the High Cleric herself had greatly increased to the point that their leader was an emissary on her behalf. Duncan's face lit up as an idea crossed his mind.

"Tell me Sir, you claim that the Church is willing to fully support the crown and my claim. Being such a prominent member of the Church, surely you have some ideas of how the church can better the lives of those living in Formaroth?”

"The Church does much for the people, or at least all it can," Lycaon said. "Of course the Church will provide to those in need. The meek, the hungry, the poor, the homely; the Church shall take them all in, and does. Yet charity alone is not enough. I have seen, and though it is commendable, there are many who come seeking charity, then return a week later for the same reason. Meeting such a man, I resolved to meet his problem head-on, and this turned out to be the proper methodology. This means cooperation between the Church and State, and this should come as no surprise, for the Church and the Kingdom are one, just as the gods decree."

As Lycaon spoke a smile slowly grew on Duncan's face. This man would serve his plans well.

"In which case you and I share a common point of view. I myself have been wanting closer co-operation between the Crown and the Church. As such. I am looking for someone to act as my representative within the church. To speak on my behalf and make my views known. Tell me, Sir Lycaon, would you be interested in taking up such a role?"

"I would be delighted and honored, my King," Lycaon said.

Yet Lycaon knew that he must be cautious. Duncan was King, and so there was little room for open disagreement with him. He was also not someone who would be easy to manipulate, if it was indeed possible at all. Lycaon had seen that much already.

"Very good. Do make the High Cleric aware of your new elevated position, I am sure she will be delighted," Duncan said as he continued smiling. Though the church had very little influence over the politics of Formaroth, in the turn the crown also had very little influence over the church. The only way Duncan could convince the church representatives to do anything was via very expensive bribes. If he could have a man on the inside to support his intentions, then he could finally gain the control that he always wanted over the church. After all, whoever controlled the church also controlled the minds of the people.

"Of course, my King," Lycaon said. "I shall send an emissary at once."

Lycaon bowed and withdrew himself from close proximity to the King, so that he could approach again his cohorts without offense to the sovereign.

"Sir Antony, you shall be my emissary," Lycaon said.

Antony knew better than to make any complaints or groans in public. That would draw too much attention to himself. He knew, however, that Lycaon knew how much he hated it. Lycaon did indeed know, but he saw it necessary to send Antony away for now. Not only was the Grand Cleric partial to him, but Lycaon would also prefer to have Daeleth by his side.

[TheDuncanMorgan]

"I am sorry your grace. But I was unable to locate Lady Aurelia" spoke the serving girl as she stood sheepishly at the doorway. Duncan and the rest of the high council had gathered in the council chambers shortly after the days hearings. The meeting was coming to a close and yet Aurelia had still not shown. Duncan had already started the meeting, sending the serving girl in the hopes she would find Aurelia before the meeting was finished. However that seemed unlikely. It was most strange, Aurelia was rarely late for a council meeting and she had never missed a council meeting entirely.

"Very well. Ask the guards to look for her and to tell her that I wish to know why she was absent. You may leave" Duncan said with a wave of his hand. The girl bowed before leaving the room, careful not to turn her back on her king. Duncan turned to face Isabel, who in Cerlina's absence had retaken the seat next to her brother. She sat smugly in her seat knowing that there was nothing Cerlina could do being so far away in Nash. It was a small and petty victory, but a victory that she took pride in nevertheless. "What is our final report for the day" Duncan replied as he rubbed his eyes; the day had been long and busy, draining Duncan of his energy.

"House Greensworth has requested that we deal with the Anjervine raiders that are pillaging the lands of Ralda" Isabel replied "Anera Greensworth has asked that the looters be executed for their crimes and that Henri Anjervine be forced to answer for the crimes of his banner men". Duncan had already heard about the raiding that had been taking place across Ralda. As soon as Fishgrove had been razed to the ground House Anjervine had taken advantage of the chaos to loot the countryside. House Greensworth had been too busy trying to re-establish a political structure in Ralda to do anything about it and by the time they had finally organised themselves the Anjervine forces had left for Windermire with whatever valuables they could carry.

“These crimes cannot go unpunished” Said Alice, judging from the somewhat shocked tone in her voice, it was clear that she was unaware about what had happened during the aftermath of Fishgroves destruction. “It matters not if they are among the Concords ranks. Justice must be served equally to everyone, no matter how high born. Henri Anjervine must be made to answer for his crimes” Alice spoke confidently and without hesitation. Even when she served under Helyot she commanded her troops with the utmost discipline. Any form of looting or dishonourable behaviour had dire consequences. Duncan however was not convinced.

“As much as I wish to punish these criminals, I believe it would be unwise. House Anjervine has chosen to support us because they think we have the best chance of winning this war. Though, ultimately they are getting very little out of this war, at least in comparison to the other noble houses. They are receiving no land or positions of power or even marriage arrangements” Duncan spoke slowly carefully thinking over his words as he said them. He knew what he was going to suggest would upset Alice.

“What does that have to do with this” Alice said as she tried to hide her angry before quickly remembering to add “Your grace”. This time it was Isabel who spoke up

“It means we have very little leverage to keep them loyal” Isabel replied as she stared harshly into Alice’s eyes “If we were to not only take away the only profit they are getting out of this war, but also punish them for it then our alliance with them will be precarious at best and we will no longer be able to guarantee their loyalty to the crown. If we turn a blind eye to this, then they will know that serving the concord is in their best interests and continue to serve us faithfully” Isabel finished and once again sat back smugly in her seat. Alice was about the protest but a glance from Alex made her reconsider. Duncan was still her king and she had to respect his judgment, so long as she served him.

“Very well your grace” said Alex quickly “I will send a letter of apology to House Greensworth, though I warn you they will not be happy with the response”

“We are given them an entire kingdom” Duncan exasperated “if that is not enough to keep their favour then nothing will be. I believe that concludes our meeting for today. If any pressing matters arise do not hesitate to let me know” Duncan said as he slowly rose from his seat, to which everyone else in the room followed in suit. All except for Alice who remained in her chair, making no apparent intention to stand up. There was a look of focus on her face and it was clear she was thinking hard about something. “Is there something on your mind” Duncan questioned as he turned to face her. Alex and Isabel had also taken noticed. As he looked at Alice, Alex started to feel concerned. He had known Alice for a very long time and considered her his closest friend here in Nyhem. And yet he had never seen her like this; there was a uneasy severity on her face that he had never seen before.

“There is a matter I would like to discuss with you your grace. If possible I would like to discuss it in private” She said her eyes focused directly in front of her refusing to make eye contact with Duncan even as she spoke to him.

“Now is a better time than any” Duncan said grudgingly. There had been very few times in which he and Alice had had conversations on their own, and he had hated every one of them. Alice had a way of subtly talking down to him. It was clear that she disliked him and his family for their actions during the civil war and though less of him because of it. Duncan waited for both Isabel and Alex to leave the room before he started speaking; while Isabel left without hesitation, Alex paused for a moment before he slowly followed Isabel out of the room and closed the wooden doors behind him. Duncan waited for the doors to shut before speaking “So what was it you wished to discuss”?

“Your grace I have served on the High council for over a decade now. When king John offered me a place on the council it was the greatest honor I have ever experienced” Alice paused for a moment before continuing “I do not regret choosing this path but I think the time for me to step down is approaching. With your leave I would like to leave the High council” Just like before Alice spoke without hesitation and without stammering. It was clear she had made up her mind. Duncan was less than pleased by this decision.

“You would break the oath that you swore to the crown“ He said as he tried to hide his anger “You would abandon your king in his time of need”. Though he didn’t particularly like the woman he had always respected her wisdom, military mind and unwavering confidence. The fact that she was planning to abandon the council now when it needed her the most felt like an act of betrayal.

“Do not misunderstand me my grace, I will remain with the council until the war with Manshrew is over. I still have my part to play in this war and it would be irresponsible for me to leave right now. But once the war is over I longer wish to remain on the council. As for my oath, forgive for saying this your grace, but I swore my oath to King John not the crown. Now that John has passed there is no reason for me to remain here in Nyhem, my oath to him has been fulfilled”. Duncan continued to glare at Alice as she spoke. Though he knew what she said was true, he also knew that her distrust in him was the primary reason for her sudden desire to leave. Both of them stood in silence for a while, Alice desperate to hear Duncan’s response. Though she had been considering this for a while she had no idea how Duncan would react.

“I suppose I will have to find a new advisor of war” Duncan said bitterly as he walked towards the door and out the room without uttering another word. As he walked down the stone hallway he reflected back on what had happened, and ultimately how it ended. He knew he could have been reasonable, he knew he could have have swallowed his pride and wished her the best for her future. Instead he choice remain spiteful and bitter; the same way she had treated him over the past decade.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As Duncan entered his chamber it was clear that the servants had already been in. The fire had been lit in the corner of the room and everything was cleaned to the point of perfection. Duncan made his way over to a bookshelf standing on the far side of the room. He needed something to take his mind off the events of today and reading normally helped to ease his mind. Duncan scanned his eyes across the spines of the book before stopping randomly on one and pulling it out. ‘The Hunter and the Wolf’, a Raeldar legend about a hunter called Hemli and the forest spirit of Raeldar. Stories from Raeldar regularly appealed to Duncan’s taste in literature and he knew that this one wouldn’t disappoint either. As he made his way over to his desk he noticed a note placed very obviously in the center. It hadn’t been there when he had left his room and he had forbidden the servants from touching anything that was on his desk. Duncan put the book down on his desk and picked up the note. 'What's your head worth to you?' it crudely wrote. Duncan stared at the note perplexed by its meaning. Judging from it’s messy handwriting it had been written by someone with little experience of writing. Someone of the lower class perhaps, maybe by one of the servants who had been in the room earlier. But why? A loud and rapid knock at the door startled Duncan

“You grace, I bring urgent news” came a panicked voice through the door. Judging from the man’s voice it truly must be important.

“Come in at once” Duncan said, worried about the news that he was about to here. The door opened and in hurried one of the castle guards

“My lord we have located Lady Aurelia” he paused for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. Dread filled Duncan, he had a feeling that he knew what the next words would be. “I am sorry your grace, but lady Aurelia is dead”.

[PhoenixWhite]

The Negotiation

Eli let out a heavy breath. his entire morning had been spent with his father, reiterating and re-establishing the boundaries for a negotiation. Eli did not have much wiggle room, and he knew that De Reimer's offer would be a strong one. Eli didn't have to give a damn about anything except the facts right now, and they all fell heavily in De Reimer's favor.

The Entente falling apart

The assassins from Manshrew

The ability to make a powerful offer...

These were the things that De Reimer had and could wield in these negotiations, and Eli was cautioned by The Old Man that they may even try to use Naomi's harm as an induction to negotiation. The thought had crossed his mind, but he had initially disregarded it after his interactions with Lanaya. However, he forced those away.

And it is now, sitting at his desk once more, that he is focusing his mind. He knew what he had to do and he knew what his negotiable limits were. He forced his opinions and thoughts on Lana out the window, sharpened his mind, and set his focus. This was, perhaps, one of the most important decisions he had been tasked with handling, and he was, for damn sure, going to make it come out in his favor. Blackwell favor.

He lifted his head and cast a glance about the room; it was lit by torches this evening rather than a solitary candle, giving the room much more light. Mary was obediently sitting upon her perch, hooded and pacified. He had cleared his desk entirely of clutter, leaving its entire surface empty save for a stack of blank parchment and a quill with ink. And, a touch of his father's influence, his elaborate rapier lay across the table as a soldier's show of integrity. Perhaps a touch more interesting, however, was the queer dagger that lay at its side, with its thicker sheathe and adornment of the Blackwell crest.

He had abstained from alcohol and fasted all day, to sharpen his mind and quell his complacency. Water and meagre supplements of bread had been his only meals throughout the day, and this was a practice of his that he held in quite high regard as a method of sharpening oneself. And, there upon the table, was a pitcher of water rather than wine or any other drink, for he disdained the mind numbing powers of the substances when serious work needed to be done.

Everything, he decided, was set for a discussion of war and politics.

He wouldn't need to wait very long either, as in just a few minutes Lanaya Dionisa, his opponent for the evening's discussions, would be shown through the door by a much more stoic and quiet member of the Dragonguard than she would be used to at this juncture in time.

"Welcome, Lady Dionisa." Immediately his tone carried none of the charm and friendliness it had in their previous encounters, and instead maintained an authoritative and powerful air- and, indeed, he did no banter and moved straight to business once the door was closed behind her; "I presume you are prepared for this evening's business, and I propose we begin with some brevity as there will be much to discuss."

"Thank you Lord Blackwell, and indeed, let us not waste any time." Lanaya stated somewhat haughtily as she entered the room. She used the formal version of his name, for this was a formal engagement and feelings had no place in it. She wore the illusion of Nyhem high fashion - a much more flashy and bulky affair than the Alenius standard, and normally quite limiting of motion, though not for her. In her hand were the papers Duncan had given her - rolled up of course - to be used if needed.

She noted the weapons on the table as she approached, guess it was some kind of quaint Blackwell custom. She had no blade of her own to place on the table to return the gesture, and so did not. "The Imperial Concord wishes to invite House Blackwell to join the Imperial Concord." She spoke firmly of the intent of these negotiations - though the terms and conditions were up for debate, Duncan had been quite clear about the ultimate goal.

Eli didn't give her the same appraising gaze she had felt before, and it appeared that her appearance didn't mean anything to him in this moment. She was a voice to him right now and nothing more, a representation of a man he wished to challenge. However, something that remained the same was the lord's employment of silence as a tool. He let her declaration hang in the air for several seconds as he shut his eyes and listened.

"Ah. The Concord wishes for our help." he said with a sly smile. "I see. I will assume that you were given leave to make offers in order to entice us to accept this request, and if that is the case I suggest you do so now."

He was leaving all of the initial declarations up to her, and he kept his eyes shut as he spoke.

However, as he spoke, he focused his mind. On the chess-board presented upon the table he envisioned a map of Formaroth in his mind's eye, and upon it he placed three 'king' pieces. One king was presented with several pawns and a bishop, the other with two knights and a rook. The former king was placed within the city of Nyhem and his pawns cast about the lands, with the Bishop piece standing in over the recent battleground against the Manshrew forces. The latter king was placed in Uzgob and the knight pieces were locked against the bishop.

He then placed a third king in Alenius, and with that king he placed a knight piece and a queen piece. The queen was the strongest piece upon the board, and he felt quite satisfactory with laying it firmly within the third king's repertoire. He moved his mind's eye around the board and surveyed it from all sides, then began to move pieces about slowly- moving them to match the reports he received.

Then he finally opened his eyes and returned his gaze to Lana.

"Glarmion and Akki." Lanaya stated with little delay.

When she continued, it was to state in more depth the terms of this allegiance - though allegiance was perhaps a strong word, as her terms would strip Alenius of its independence. That would be the hardest thing to sell to her opponent. It was best to gauge his reaction to it early.

"In exchange for joining the Imperial Concord and supporting Duncan De Reimer's claim on the throne. As a member of the Concord, you would be bound to provide full support to the war effort against Manshrew. Following the successful conclusion of the war, House Blackwell would be granted dominion over the lands of Glarmion and Akki int heir entirety for as long as the House endures." She knew territorial gain would appeal to Eli, but it was not her only card to play.

"Glarmion, Akki, and Uzgob." Eli stated immediately. "Because, and I assure you of this, my father will eradicate the Manshrew name from Formaroth for the damages done to the princess. That means Uzgob will be in need of new lordship. I see it fitting to include Uzgob within the entitlements of the Blackwell King."

He then pressed his hands together, forming a pyramid with his fingers.

"And you say 'join' the Imperial Concord, however an alliance will be sufficient, and any further attempts to subjugate the independence of the Blackwell King and all lands presiding under their rule will be seen as a threat to our way of life and an act of war. So no suggesting we kneel and no suggesting we recognize De Reimer as anything other than an equal. He is neither our king nor our superior, and there will be no swaying this matter. King Giles Blackwell has made it clear that our independence is paramount."

His voice was iron. Unyielding. They were asking for his help. He was a provider of a service- a service of war. And the Blackwells were extremely good at war. And something Eli had learned very swiftly as a young boy was this; if you're good at something, never do it for cheap.

He had made these counters and demands swiftly, disregarding his usual silences. A direct and sudden counter-attack to her offer.

The barest hint of a smile curled one corner of Lana's mouth. While part of her was hoping for an easy victory, she was also expecting a challenge, and with such terms stated so boldly, Eli was certainly presenting one.

She took a little time to respond, remaining silent before speaking as Eli was prone to do, though not as long as he usually did.

"Uzgob, Glarmion, Akki... House Blackwell joins the Concord and acknowledges King Duncan, and in addition, a daughter of the Blackwell line marries Patrick De Reimer, placing the Blackwell lineage on the direct line for the throne." She wasn't going to relent on a full joining of the concord quite yet. She knew her position was not strong, but he didn't need to know that. She was confidant in her offer, despite Eli's tone of iron. They wanted the throne. Given that Duncan did not currently look like he was going to be producing any heirs, it was a good deal.

Eli broke his gesture, moving his hand to the quill and ink pot upon the table. With deft gestures he coated the quill, then writ upon the paper.

'Uzgob'

'Glarmion'

'Akki'

Once those words were upon the paper, he placed the quill back within the pot and let a silence hang. This one was weightier.

"You still expect subjugation to De Reimer. Any attempts at revoking the independence of the Blackwell Kingdom will be met firmly with denial of the other terms." He reinforced. "As for the marriage, if one is to occur it will be Matrilineal to ensure that the children are Blackwells and all inherited titles will fall into house Blackwell. The marriage would thusly take place in Alenius under the customs of this land."

He allowed himself a sly smile.

Her response was swift and firm, though not quite the iron tone he managed.

"No. These terms are unacceptable."

She let the statement hang in the air for a moment. The deal would be entirely in Blackwell favor under such terms and he knew it. When she spoke again it was in a more conciliatory tone.

"Independence. Let us add that to the table. His majesty will acknowledge the independence of Alenius under King Giles Blackwell the first. However, the Concord is not willing grant as much land to the Kingdom of Alenius during this negotiation. We now have three separate things to negotiate. The terms under his Majesty Duncan De Reimer will recognize the independence of the Kingdom of Alenius, the terms of the military and economic alliance against the upstart Andrew Manshrew and the terms of a marriage between the Blackwell and De Reimer families."

She had divided them up like this because of the different duration that each was likely to entail. It was far cleaner to create a number of separate treaties than fill one with all manner of temporal clauses. "Shall we begin by discussing the new borders of your Kingdom?"

Eli's sly smile escalated into a smirk, though he cautiously poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and drank from it, forcing his facial expressions away. He'd succesfully guaranteed independence as a part of the deal as far as he was concerned, meaning he could afford to be much more lenient in other manners. He set his glass down and poured another one, ever courteous of his guest, even if an opponent, and set the second glass on Lana's side of the table.

He then folded the parchment bearing the lands previously discussed into half, and set it aside. A new piece of parchment was presented, and he wrote, this time in quite calligraphic means..

Independence Guaranteed

He then returned to his neutral mannerisms, depositing the quill back into the inkpot.

"I am willing to relinquish Uzgob from the listed additions to the Blackwell demesne, and am willing to accept your initial offer of Glarmion and Akki."

He discarded his iron tone and, once more, wielded the neutrality of business.

For a moment, Lana wondered if perhaps she hadn't pushed hard enough. If maybe the Blackwell's might've folded on independence if she had just been a little firmer. It seemed as though Eli believed he he had one the first round. Perhaps he had, but even if that was the case, she would not give in to doubt. She could not go back now.

She took the offered glass and sipped it. The cool water was refreshing, and the pause allowed her to formulate her next move.

"His Majesty is very generous in his gifting land while acknowledging Blackwell requests for Independence." She began, taking the quill in her hand. "It is valuable territory that is changing hands... He will expect, however, a significant tithe in order to cover the administrative costs of transferring authority, and as a repayment for his benevolent granting of your request." She was not going to let these lands go lightly.

"A tithe will be paid and nothing more. That is to say, formally, one-tenth of the land's earnings of the year shall be paid to cover the..." He paused and chuckled some... "Administrative costs."

He then waved a and dismissively.

"Before you bargain again, consider the value and position of the lands of Akki, as well as the already considerable treasuries of Alenius. Looking upon these lands alone, the established Tithe I suggest will be quite satisfactory. When Glarmion is taken into account as well, it is without doubt that a considerable sum will find its way into the Imperial Concord's coffers as... tithe."

He spoke quite quickly throughout this, as if finding it tiresome and wanting to be done with it. Money wasn't an issue. Would never be an issue. He didn't care enough to try and sway them for less money, so he just went ahead and offered something he considered, privately, an adequate amount. He fully expected her to pressure him for an extension of the tithe, and he was considering how long he was willing to agree to it should the Lady Dionisa pressure him.

Noting his tone, Lana saw a chance to push for more. It was a fairly generous beginning offer, but that didn't mean she would just accept it.

"Ten percent of yearly earnings for four years." She countered. It was a high estimate, and she was willing to be argued down, but it also set up for the next thing she said, after a brief pause.

"Or thirty percent of only one years earnings."

She was aware that such a lump sum would be less in total, and was again prepared to negotiate the number down. But at such a significant percentage of a kingdoms earnings it would not only cut severely into the Blackwell income, but go a very long way for Duncan. The crown was in significant debt, and if she was able to eliminate that debt in one fell swoop, it would likely please Duncan sufficiently to overlook her failure to incorporate Alenius directly into the Concord.

"Ten percent for two years." the tone of iron, once more, arose from the man's throat. The boredom and lack of care on the matter shattered as soon as she made a counter-offer, and he once more moved his will to assert himself over the conversation.

He chastised himself on relaxing on a subject he felt comfortable about, because his comfort allowed for a point of leverage on his opponent's behalf. He was fine with agreeing to longer terms, but he couldn't let her feel she could press for much in the future lest this whole thing become less...in his favor.

Lana smiled and said "That is acceptable." She put quill to parchment and recorded the details of the tithe on the treaty. It was a significant payment. She hoped it would be enough to please Duncan.

"Given the state of the world as it is now, you must understand that the Imperial Concord unfortunately will not be able to ensure the current rulers of Glarmion and Akki will gracefully accept their new liege. As such, it will be entirely up to house Blackwell to determine the manner in which they bring their new lands under control."

This was the other stroke of her plan. Though it was fairly certain that Giles' fury would see House Blackwell drawn into the war with Manshrew, providing a direct economic reason would commit Eli to the war as well. After all, it was highly unlikely the rulers of Glarmion or Akki would simply role over and allow themselves to be deposed or significantly diminished in power and standing. She did add one final word though. "Of course, should you wish to assist us in bringing Manshrew down swiftly, the Concord would likely be happy to assist in bringing your new land directly under your control."

"I assure you that the current rulers will see reason and submit to our lawfully deigned rule." Eli said coolly. "Assistance will not be needed in order for the acquisition to take place." His eyes fell on Lana once more, having searched the parchment. He left the weight of his gaze upon her and drank from the glass of water he had poured for himself.

And while he drank, he moved the pieces on the chess board mentally. The image in his mind's eye, created and held in place before, now began to change. The queen moved and occupied Glarmion, whilst the knight moved to Akki and dominated it. Then pawns, dozens of pawns, sprung up within the newly acquired Blackwell territories.

His mind raced, trying to calculate things he had very little direct information on, trying to anticipate profits and costs and, ultimately, the power gained. He was calculating this deal in terms of 'Can I get the throne in thirty years from this position on the board'.

And, so far, he saw this as an affirmative query. He felt satisfied.

"Let us move on to a new topic." He offered, placing his glass down. "What is next on our agenda?"

Lana looked on, knowing he had a plan. He always had a plan. Whether it would work was another question entirely, but not one she would worry about now. Things were as in her favor as they could be.

She picked up a new sheaf of parchment, moving the existing one to the side, though keeping it prominently in view.

"The nature of the economic and military alliance against the Forces of Andrew Manshrew." She stated. She did not doubt there would be such an alliance - the Blackwell family was provoked against him already. It was only logical to join forces to ensure his swift and complete destruction. This time, she would let Eli offer first. She was interested to see exactly what he was willing to commit to such an Alliance.

"The alliance will be one of simple necessity. The Imperial Concord will offer the Blackwell Kingdom assistance in their endeavors to inflict retribution upon those who sought to assassinate the king, Giles Blackwell, and all those of his lineage. Furthermore, the Imperial Concord will grant the Blackwell Kingdoms an Auxiliary force as a sign of good will and trust. This auxiliary force will number at least one thousand strong and may be accompanied by a commander of Duncan's choosing so long as they be willing to follow orders."

Eli's eyes watched Lana.

"And, finally, the Blackwell kingdoms, in return for the assistance against Manshrew, will similarly work with the Imperial Concord at junctures so as to ensure smooth relations and a quick, painless, war. To put it simply, we will work together to meet the ends desired."

He then splays his hands to Lana, as if opening up the air to her, and patiently awaited her response.

Lana thought for a moment. Her initial impulse was to refuse - Duncan had little need of more troops, he needed equipment. However, on thinking it through, she changed her mind. Not only was it proper to accept the show of good faith, but Blackwell troops were, in general more consistently good than the disparate armed forces of the Concord. If Duncan was careful about who we he sent, he could well benefit from the quality Blackwell troops being under his direct command.

"Very well. An auxiliary force will be provided, however we will expect the Blackwell Kingdom to provide an equivalent force. It is only polite, after all, to extend the show of good faith both ways."

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, taking a sip of water while she did so.

"I'm sure you are aware, that the Imperial Concord will be requesting economic support, primarily in the form of arms and armor. Cawanor cannot supply the entirety of the army, while your land is known to have a surplus. I am sure the details will be quite dull to discuss, and likely better figured out by one with more knowledge of the Concord precise need, however I would like to have an indication of how you would respond to this request."

"Very well, Blackwell will also send De Reimer a legion as a sign of goodwill. Of course, just as De Reimer may send a commander, Blackwell will send one as well."

He paused here, letting a silence settle. Then he smirked. He found his angle, and he pressured it;

"Ah, of course."

He clasped his hands together and adjusted his posture, crossing a leg and resting the elbow of an arm upon his knee. He had, yet again, something the Concord needed. And when you have something, make them bleed for what they need.

"However, due to the sudden need to arm our own people and establish ready supplies, in order for us to relinquish any of our armaments there will need to be...compensation...And, due to the war and the need to hold onto a surplus...the price of the equipment will, understandably, increase markedly..."

From the way he spoke, it was clear that the 'compensation' would be steep.

Lana knew she would be hard pressed to turn this to her advantage. The Concord was not in a good position for bargaining right now.

So she switched tack.

"While I understand the need for a significant compensation in this time of war... The Concord is an ally. His Majesty has been kind in granting independence, but Manshrew will likely not even acknowledge the difference between Concord and Blackwell kingdoms. He will sweep in and destroy us both if we do not present as unified a front, both militarily and economically, as possible. He has ample reason to hate your house after you fought him in the last war, after all. Let us hasten the destruction of a shared enemy through cooperation."

She was already doubtful that this approach would hold any weight with Eli, he would probably be too canny to be caught up in such an emotional manipulation so easily, but she expertly kept her doubt from her voice.

"Allies is the key word in this negotiation, lady Dionisa. For we are allies, not unified, is the reason that this increase in the price must be made. We are not a unified front, we are a collaborative front with a common goal. That means I must take care of my own before I can offer aid to others, and in a time of war supplies are paramount in this regard. If the Concord wishes to obtain supplies from the Blackwell Kingdoms, I'm afraid that the prices will increase to supplement the higher demand for the goods. It's idiocy on my end to offer any less, and in truth I'm already bending from my father's unyielding position on this. So do accept the offer, lest it be revoked under the wrath of the king himself."

With how this was worded and phrased, Eli was portraying himself as making a generous offer in an otherwise unyielding environ.

Lana had known from the start such a trick of manipulation would not prove effective against this most canny of foes. She made a show of mulling over the offer before continuing, even as she inwardly cursed herself for being outmaneuvered.

"It is a generous offer." She began, appearing at first to accept before continuing. "But I must counter with one offer, a payment of sorts that is not in gold. A guarantee that Andrew Manshrew will be kept alive should he be captured by Concord forces, that he might be handed over to your family to suffer whatever judgement you may wish. I must also beseech you to consider that while we may not be a unified front, Manshrew will surely see us as one. Whatever may occur after his defeat, it is in both our interests to avoid tension and economic strain in the short term."

She paused for just a moment to ensure what she said next was distinct. "If such a guarantee is of no interest to House Blackwell however, I will have to accept the terms of this agreement. Either way, Concord economists and logistics specialists will be dispatched upon my return to negotiate the finer numbers of the deal."

Eli was in a powerful position, and maneuvering a negotiation like this was exhilirating at times. He put on a show of mullimg over the decision; sighing softly, drinking his water, looking up for a moment in consideration...

Then shaking his head and looking back at Lana.

"I cannot accept."

This outcome was decided from the start, but Eli had chosen to play this entire section of dialogue as if he were struggling to be generous and there simply wasn't any more he could do.

"The offer is tempting, however you must consider this; Giles Blackwell is a soldier, not a knight. Manshrew dying in battle will satiate our feud with him, and should he be captured alive the Blackwells will simply put him to trial of combat. So either way he dies in battle, and we will contnue hunting those who bear his name. So in the end, such an offer as yours offered nothing and took much. So I cannot accept. The price of the armaments will increase as befitting a commodity during war."

And, with Lana's approval hanging in the air from her prior statement, Eli Blackwell wrote down a rough outline of the price increase and trade ordeal.

Lana sipped her water in silence as Eli wrote. She was experiencing a curious mix of emotions. Disappointment at being bested in this duel of wits... Fear over what Duncan's reaction might be... And an ever growing admiration for the man across from her.

Once he had finished writing she began to speak, allowing none of her emotion to color her voice. "If that is concluded, let us move onto the final element of the treaty. The nature of the marriage between Patrick De Reimer and a Lady of House Blackwell. His Majesty offers this out of an intent to ensure peace between the two kingdoms. He does not expect the crown to pass to the Blackwell line within the next generation however."

"Ah. This is the fun one, isn't it."

Eli gazed across at Lana, and let a silence weigh upon him. This was something he actually needed to think about. If he agreed to this, he would be sentencing one of his sisters to leave their home and marry someone they'd never have met and someone Eli only had a grudging knowledge on. If he were to weigh his sisters evenly, the obvious choice would be to pick Naomi. She was the least beneficial to the house and would be the most worth-while to marry off due to her youth.

However, even Eli was not capable of completely disconnecting his feelings for his sisters from this dealing- not with any ease, at the very least. And as he thought about Naomi a protectiveness clung to his sensibilities and swayed him.

Then he thought to Beatrice and instantly wrote her off, she would likely kill the man in their bed on their wedding night if he tried to touch her.

Then he went to Drevala and hesitated. Drevala was, arguably, the sister he favored the most, Naomi disregarded in this argument, and he was hesitant to sign her off to this without addressing her. That pulled him back to reality now, and he looked down at the rest of the deals he'd made.

The rest of the deals he'd controlled.

If he didn't accept this one, he'd risk losing the others due to compromising the tenets of the negotiation itself. This was the only position in this whole ordeal he couldn't find an unyielding, advantageous, position to bargain from.

But he maintained his confidence and nodded once, assuring himself privately as well as registering what Lana said visibly.

"Naomi Blackwell will marry Patrick De Reimer, their children will be wards of the Blackwell household, and the right for Naomi to leave Cawanor and visit Alenius will never be restricted so long as a Blackwell king sits its throne."

Lana sensed that the tables were more even here, and barely contained her smugness at having gained an advantage. The feeling was fleeting however, as she remembered the angry girl from before, and what she was forcing upon her. Even more so, when she realized that Drevala could just as easily have been the one to suffer this fate.

Regardless, she would press on. A success here might just redeem her other less favorable results.

"I see no reason to restrict Naomi's travel, so long as she does consider Cawanor her home following the marriage, and spend at least some time there." She began, addressing the first point while simultaneously agreeing to it being Naomi.

"However I will have to seek assurance that any children sent as wards are raised in a manner that meets with the requirements of both parents." Though she was too polite to say it, it was clear she was referencing the rumors of Giles' method of 'raising' his children. She was certain Duncan and Patrick would find such a method barbaric to say the least - indeed she herself considered it rather distasteful.

"In addition, I suggest that only male children be sent to the Blackwell household as wards. Peace will be easier to ensure with Children on both sides of the divide."

Her choice of males was not a random one. Males raised by Blackwell's would likely become powerful warriors and skilled leaders, but females, if the existing ones were any example, were likely to become too headstrong to be easily married off for the sake of diplomacy. They were more useful to Duncan if raised in the more traditional manner in Cawanor.

"I assure you that there will be no members of the De Reimer family being stripped of their names and being sent into the world. That is a privelege that, thankfully, only we Blackwells are intended to possess."

Eli's response to this was quick.

"However, as wards, their education will be heavily up to the Blackwell King. That will satisfy Giles Blackwell and make him apt to relinquish his youngest daughter."

Lana's expression when Eli spoke of the Blackwell's curious upbringing as a 'privilege' made it clear she was skeptical of it being a good thing, but she was satisfied with the assurance that any resulting children of the marriage would not be subjected to it.

"This is acceptable." She began, putting quill to paper to begin recording the terms. "You are in agreeance with the stipulation that only male children will be wards?" She questioned, noting his lack of reply to this aspect. She was eager to conclude the negotiations, they had been long and intense. She had other plans for the limited time remaining to her in Alenius.

Eli leans back in his chair and offers her an affirmative gesture.

He was thankful for these negotiations to be over, but as he watched Lana write down their agreed upon terms, he felt a certain fading within himself- the exhiliration of control and danger was falling, leaving him with a stoic, businessminded, satisfaction of the ordeal.

All things considered? He'd put his boot on the Imperial Concord's neck and dictated terms to them with only minor inconviniences to the Blackwell side of things arising. It was a very, very, good feeling.

"That concludes our negotiations for the now, correct?"

"It does."

Lana replied, her tone neutral. She drained the rest of the water in her cup before continuing.

"If I may, my Lord, it has been a long day and I would like to retire."

She stood and moved slowly to the side of the table, though did not rush to the door. Her stance was that of one who was worn out from a long day, but her eyes held a mischievous twinkle that was not there previously. She was going to retire, but her night was not over yet.

Eli nods to her as she rises. He reached out and took her glass into his hand, before stting it aside more neatly on his half of the table. He then sipped from his own cup and looked to her. The evening had worn on for some time.

"Feel free to retire, my lady. Our business has been concluded. I rather enjoyed the discussion, thank you for not being boring."

Amusement was in his voice now that the official business had been wrapped up.

"Thank you my Lord. You have been a most gracious host in this time of uncertainty." She replied before making her way to the door.

Once she had made it back to her room, she considered the likely ramifications of the deal. It was possible Duncan would be willing to understand, but she suspected he would more likely be angry at her for granting House Blackwell independence. She knew, from speaking with Eli, that there was no way they would've joined the Concord now, or ever. They were going to remain independent regardless, whether it was by being granted it officially or by fighting for it. In her eyes, it was better to have it be granted, and for the Concord to get something out of it, than to stubbornly refuse it and start another war over it.

Regardless, history would now hold her up as the one to blame if the new Blackwell kingdom caused ill.

A Scandal To Remember

At first, she had been nervous. Worrying over her appearance like a schoolgirl before her first romantic encounter. But then she had remembered, that she was a Sorceress, and that men were simple. Even the great Eli Blackwell, as intelligent and perceptive as he was, was still merely a man.

She reminded herself of her goals - secure a marriage with a prospective King. As dearly as she loved her friend, Aurelia was not reliable when it came to matters of the heart… Or sacrificing matters of the heart for the greater good - not that that seemed to be a requirement of the plan as yet.

And so it was that she justified, in terms of her grand plan, the feelings she could not deny she felt when she looked at the Blackwell Lord.

She changed quickly, though that was not hard when she was primarily clad in smoke and mirrors. Now, she would appear in a similar dress to the one she wore the previous night, though richer in color and more intricate in detail. Jewelery was at a minimum, and she let her hair flow freely down her back. It was clear at glance that she was no longer playing the part of the Nyhem noble, or the diplomat.

She checked herself once more in the mirror, then made her way to the balcony with a skip in her step. She shifted effortlessly into one of her songbird forms, and glided the short distance around the castle to Eli’s balcony, shifting back and wrapping the illusions about her again simultaneously.

“It would be a terrible waste not to spend the remainder of the night hidden away in our rooms.” She said by way of greeting. Gone was the wariness from earlier, now there was a playful note in her voice, and a sparkle in her eye.

Eli watched Lana go, then set about the task of rewriting the terms of the negotiations formally. In elegant, flowing, script he wrote, and in formal language that such deals were often worded, but the nature of the agreements were not changed one bit.

Then he set the document aside. That was a heavy final deal. He had married off his dearest sister for a deal. Objectively speaking, he felt satisfied. Emotionally speaking...

He was going to drink tonight.

And so, roughly twenty minutes after Eli had set himself to work with the intentions of inebriating himself, he heard a voice call to him. He wasn't drunk by any means, but he had succeeded in giving himself a slight warm fuzzy feeling, the point of barest intoxication. He was still in control of his faculties, he had just deadened his worry over Naomi considerably.

He himself was still dressed finely, if, perhaps, a little more relaxed than during the negotiations. Thusly, seeing Lana, his first action was to swiftly correct his attire and rise up in a bit of a surprise.

"My lady, I wasn't expecting you again tonight, but it is nice to see you." he said as he bowed to her, ever the gentleman. When he rose out of the bow he let his eyes move over her form, and this time she could read him more easily; her appearance was quite pleasing to him.

"Please, just Lana." She replied. "No more formalities today." She smiled, slightly amused at his swift attempts to correct his clothing. He clearly valued his image, much as she did hers.

"I thought after this long day, we might enjoy each others company and relax... I fly back to Nyhem tomorrow, we may not see each other again for some time." She stepped forward, still smiling, happy to see that he was appreciating her appearance, even as she did the same.

Eli couldn't help but quirk a brow up at her words, and his smile slipped into a rather sly one. He gestured around the room, and nodded in acknowledgement of her request.

"Make yourself comfortable then, Lana. You're welcome to what I have to offer."

He then lifted a goblet up and drank from it, letting the spice of the wine offer him a brief solace from dialogue.

"I think I'd rather enjoy having you as company this evening, if I may say so. You look very nice." It was a simple compliment, but he didn't feel like being elaborate at this moment. After he said it, he would finally stop fidgeting with his own attire and would simply try to relax and adopt a more casual demeanor.

"Thank you." Lana replied, the slightest hint of crimson coloring her cheeks as she stepped forward. "You are rather handsome too..."

She elegantly took a goblet from the table - the very same one that had so recently contained water, and cast a fleeting but expectant gaze towards Eli. She did not need wine for courage, but it would warm her and prevent any shivering - the temperature was beginning to drop and she had no reprieve from it.

The crimson of Lana's cheeks brought a smirk to the young lord's lips. She was being terribly cute. He moved to fill her cup with wine once she lifted her goblet, though this wine was stronger than what he had let her have the other day. He had been drinking with the intentions of inebriation before she arrived, after all.

"Did you have anything in mind for this night, Lana, or did you wish to leave your intentions to my imagination?"

There was considerable amusement in his voice, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. He set the bottle of wine down and kept his eyes on her, but after a few seconds seemed to finally tear his gaze away, and he licked his lips. He disguised this 'tearing of his gaze' behind a brief eye-rubbing period, but once it was complete he returned his attention to Lana and she, once more, had his full attention.

Between the wine and the knowledge she was likely clad in illusion, Eli was trying not to think too hard and thus see through her illusion, but also just enjoyed looking at her which his slight 'buzz', as it were, allowed him to enjoy.

Lana raised the goblet to her lips gripping it with both hands while meeting his gaze with her own. He really was a dashing, handsome man.

She was expecting the same flavor as the first time, not realizing Eli had picked a stronger bottle this night. She tried very hard not to grimace and make a face as the spicy liquid burned its way down her throat. It was far stronger than she had imagined. Her cheeks - being only slightly rosy before, now burned crimson as she looked away.

It took a moment for her to regain her composure, but once she did she looked back and spoke, her tone equally suggestive and curious. "What does your imagination suggest my intentions are?"

Her tone played through Eli's mind and he closed the distance between them, now well within her personal space. He lifted a hand and, between a thumb and forefinger, gently lifted her chin so he could stare down at her face.

"If I'm being honest, my imagination..."

He still had that smirk of mischief.

"...Is wondering what your lips taste like with that fire you just drank behind them, Lana."

The man was interested, and his pride didn't allow him to be anything less than direct or confident in his approach to the situation. Perhaps the fact she could set him on fire with a thought would caution other men from such forwardness, but Eli Blackwell has danced with dragons and their fire- surely fancying this woman couldn't be as dangerous as that.

No words were said in reply. Lana simply stood on her toes, maintaining balance with the grace of a dancer, and tenderly kissed him. She did not rush, savoring the moment and sensation. A small part of her mind was happy that everything was going as planned, but she payed little heed to it now. Now only her personal, immediate desires concerned her.

After a long moment she stepped back and ran her hands slowly down her body, dispelling the illusions covering her as she went. She stood for a moment, then stepped forward again, this time closer still, looking up at him. The desire in her eyes spoke of her intentions far more clearly than any words.

Eli met her lips with his, planting a kiss on her lips that he was happy to hold for as long as she was. His fingers, holding her chin, loosened slightly and he let his hand caress her cheek, before pulling his hand away as she backed up, a more...masculine...smirk on his face. He didn't mind how this evening was going one bit.

Once her illusions fell away, he shut his eyes for just a moment, before suddenly wrapping his strong arms around her waist and lifting her up by her hips, pulling her to him, and kissing her once more. A much more 'needy' kiss, this one. A few seconds after kissing her again, his feet began to move, and he carried her over to his bed- which he pressed her down into, still holding her by her hips.

"I don't think we'll be getting much rest tonight." He whispered into her ear, breaking the kiss for a moment to get these words out.

As she was lifted by firm hands, Lana threw her arms around his neck for support and returned his kiss, just as hungrily.

She did not fight as she was carried to the bed and pressed into it, simply unwrapping her arms. The loss of control was as much an exhilaration as the thought of what would come next. She clawed at his clothes with her hands, eager to see him stripped as she was. She just giggled at his comment, pulling him back into the kiss.

She would enjoy this night very much.

Lana's Departure || The Morning of Many Gifts

Early The Next Morning

Lana drifted slowly back to wakefulness, becoming aware bit by bit of the source of great warmth so close to her. She wondered, sleepily, before opening her eyes, if she had left the curtains open and the sun was streaming in to lick at her skin. That idea was quickly dashed as her sense of touch weighed in on the curiosity, and she realized that the warmth came from skin - in contact with her own.

It was then she remembered the events of the previous night, and a smile curled her lips as she opened her eyes. For a moment, she simply enjoyed the closeness of Eli's body - a sensation she had not felt like this in a long time.

When the moment was over, she disentangled herself, slowly and gently, from his still sleeping form, doing her best to avoid waking him. She wanted to be back in her room before any servant tried to check in on her. News could not escape that she had slept with the Lord Blackwell on the same night she had negotiated the treaty securing Blackwell independence.

Stirring. There was movement. Movement was an incredibly foreign sensation, and as Lana tried to pull away, Eli's arms wrapped around her- a bit tightly, at that. But then his arms loosened and his eyes opened, and he gazed at the woman in his arms. He slowly sat up in the bed, and wrapped the blankets about her as he did so.

"Good morning." He offered her softly, leaning in and claiming another kiss for himself. "Have to go so soon?" He asked with a soft chuckle, rising up and pulling away from her. He tied a morning robe about himself, and let his gaze linger on the beautiful woman in his bed.

Though she felt a small sense of urgency, Lana enjoyed the kiss all the same. "Can you imagine the scandal if a servant were to see us?" She replied, her tone light and near that of a jest, despite the severity of what she was suggesting.

She slid out of the bed and stood, not worried about covering her body. She was happy to let him drink the sight of her in as much as he liked. She would be shape shifting soon anyway, and didn't feel like picking out an illusion when she was just going to put her travel attire on as soon as she returned to her room.

His eyes slid over her form slowly, and a pleased twinkle filled his eyes.

"I have something I wish to give you. A gift, to a woman I find quite beautiful."

His confident steps carried him to the table they had sat at the night before, and he picked up, from its surface, the black sheathed dagger he placed there the night before.

He then returned to Lana and gently lifted her hand, placed it into her palm, then closed her hand around it.

"This knife is made of dragon's talon, Lana. It is worth much gold, and can pierce any armor made by man. I want you to have it so you might have something of mine to keep you safe in these dark times to come."

Lana felt mild and pleasant surprise at the mention of a gift - Eli living up to his noble heart once more.

When he placed a dagger into her hand though, she felt a rather sharp and complex slew of emotions run through her breast. On the one hand, it was a precious gift, and she knew the Blackwell's placed importance on the martial. From him, this was a very meaningful gesture. On an intellectual level, she knew that.

On the other hand this was a despicable tool of death - of the same sort that had ended many a mages life prematurely. It represented death, waste and a willingness to continue those things. It was a pointed reminder that Eli was mundane - not knowing the pleasure of truly bending the world to his will... or of the fear, hate and misunderstanding directed towards one because of the way they were born. It was everything she despised, everything she sought to end.

She tried... And failed, to suppress a grimace, contorting her features in disgust. To hide her reaction from Eli, she turned her head, letting her hair fall across her face. Just to be sure, she also cast a subtle illusion to blur her face, it would appear as simple trick of the light behind the amber locks of her hair. She desperately wanted to avoid hurting him, and hated herself for hating this gift so much.

To buy herself time to get her feelings under control, she focused on his words to keep you safe. She stepped back, turning her face back towards him, an expression undeniably of reveling in power on her face. She raised her arms, the weapon still in hand, palms just above her shoulders facing the ceiling, and began to summon magical flames in her hands, extending them down her upper torso, but never letting them touch either the dagger or her skin.

"I am quite safe." She said, a smirk on her face and an other worldly tone to her voice as she put on the display of her power, letting the fires burn for a moment before extinguishing them all at once.

Eli's eyes watched her intently as he placed the dagger in her hand. Her head turned away, and he filed a mental note of that away. She was not overly fond of the gift, but as she stepped back he couldn't help but offer her his usual confident smile.

"Fire." He said, his voice a chuckle. "It seems you are very safe, Lana. Forgive me for ever doubting that. Some men, though, don't fear fire. And, then, some are quite fond."

And as if to prove his point he stepped close, reached through the flame, and slid his hand to caress her cheek fondly. He'd been in dragon's fire, or at least near enough to matter.

"You know, tis Alenius tradition to get married wreathed in flames. You almost seem to be a bride like that." He said as the flames faded, and then he stepped close and kissed her again. A deep kiss, pulling her mouth to his.

And then he stepped back, gave her space once more.

She couldn't help but be impressed by his lack of fear. No Mundane would reach through mage fire, no matter how beautiful the prize behind it.

She allowed him to kiss her again, taking solace in the intimate gesture. He didn't realize her feelings around physical conflict. He didn't mean to hurt her with the gift.

As he stepped back, a small smile came back to her face. "Are you offering to make me a bride?" She jested, now taking the dagger in both hands. She would accept the gift, despite her feelings, for his sake.

"That is an interesting thought, now isn't it? Misses Lanaya Blackwell. It does sound very nice to me." He smirks at her. "Think on it, why don't you. I certainly will." He then looks away from Lana, for the first time since they awoke, and towards Mary. He moved to the bird and gently touched her feathers.

"Drevala will be here soon, then she will likely pay you a visit. Do keep in touch with me Lana, I fear you've made me into an admirer."

Lana laughed, a musical sound, and turned, walking towards the balcony. "I will." She said over her shoulder, not specifying what she was replying to.

Placing the dagger on the balcony, she shifted into one of the more powerful birds in her repertoire, and once the spell was complete, gripped the weapon in her talons before taking off. It was faster that way - the spell to shift with matter was more energy and time intensive.

Once back in her room, she shifted back and cast the dagger aside, on the bed, which she ruffled a little to make it appear as though she had used it. After all, servants noticed much, and talked even more. Following that, she began to put the clothes she had arrived in on. She took her time now though, no longer in a hurry, and not eager to begin the complex shifting spell she would need to get home....

Just a few moments after Lana finished fixing up her room and began getting dressed, a flapping of wings alerted her to a bird's presence on her balcony, then a few moments later the bird stepped down and shifted into the familiar form of Drevala.

However, strange enough, Drevala was fully clothed and carried a large, leather-bound, book in her hands.

She smiled brightly to the dressing Lanaya and performed a half-bow-half-curtsy, before stepping into the room proper.

"Lana, I just had to see you once more before you left."

"Of course." Lana replied, a note of happiness in her voice as she turned to look at her friend. She was being very formal, and had shape shifted fully clothed. Drevala didn't usually do that - and it immediately piqued Lana's curiosity.

She didn't mention anything about the night spent with Eli, but she hadn't exactly hidden the dagger Eli gave her either. She wondered if Drevala would piece things together or assume it was simply a gift for her to take to Duncan.

Drevala offered an even brighter smile as she studied Lana.

"Caught you at the right time! Yes!" She laughed her musical laugh and gazed down at the book in her hands, somewhat lengthily. After a moment she offered the nondescript leather-bound book to Lana.

"I want you to have this. This... This is my life's work, my entire study on dragons." She gave a more wistful smile at this, then cleared her throat to express the intent to explain further.

"You're risking your cause with me, so I'm going to trust mine with you. If I die, you'll be the only one who can appreciate and utilize this research. And seeing as I'll be in a war, the chances of me dying do exist, however slim that may be." She teased this last sentence, alleviating some of the seriousness in her voice. "But you mustn't open it unless you hear of my death, because within these pages are detailed everything I know about dragons- including their weaknesses."

The last word was said very pointedly, and she allowed a brief moment of seriousness to cross her expression.

"But if I don't die..." the cheery tone returns. "I'll come get it back from you, mmkay?"

"Drevala I... This is..." Lana was genuinely shocked, and lacking for words, quite the rare occasion.

If she took this, it would mean much - a significant bond of trust, but it would also have to be protected. For Drevala's safety, and the world at large. She took a moment to compose herself, continuing to dress as she did so.

"Are you sure? Nyhem may not be the safest place for this..."

Drevala giggled.

"I need it in someome I trust's hands. You're the best one I could count on. If I die, I need someone who respects this information to have it. Other shifters may abuse it. Others may use it to hunt the creatures unecessarily. I need it safe, and if I die and it's left here who knows what will become of it?"

A smile returned to Lana's face then, she couldn't help it with Drevala's levity.

"In that case, thank you." She took the book in her hands. "you are a dear friend Drevala. I will keep it safe."

She looked at the cover for a moment, wondering what secrets it might contain. Not for her to know. She placed it on the bed beside the dagger then, and turned back to her friend, placing her hands on the other woman's shoulders, a more worried, severe look on her face. "But you really must not die. I would be beside myself if you did."

Drevala gave a downright playful smirk. "Death's a good friend of my father's, he won't take me any time soon. Don't you worry. I'll only die if there's nobody left for me to protect- so long as there's someone in my heart I'll crawl out my grave to make sure they're okay. So you better stay safe yourself, because you're in my heart too."

She winked, ever playful, and began to back off.

Lana laughed as she replied "That's reassuring to hear..."

When Drevala began to back away she said slyly "Where do you think you're off to? Once I'm dressed you can help me with the spell to carry all these things with me through the shift."

She had ended up with quite a few extra items she hadn't planned on having to bring back, and it was always easier to cast complex spells with two mages present.

Drevala paused. This pause betrayed a flicker of her gaze moving over Lana, then to the things on the bed.

"Oh. That's an interesting knife you have there. Brother said he didn't end up giving it to Duncan, so...you have it! When's the wedding?" She laughed, this one a bit more forced, as she moved closer once more.

Lana laughed heartily when her friend made the comment. Drevala always was an observant one.

"There is no date yet..." She began. "But I do intend to marry him. Isn't that wonderful Drevala?" Her voice had taken on a sudden enthusiastic note as her feeling spilled over when she spoke the words aloud. "Or maybe I should call you sister-to-be?" She giggled

"It makes me very happy to be your sister, Lana, so feel free to address me that way." Drevala's giggle was genuine once more, and she placed her hands on her hips, in an ever adolescent gesture of sass.

"But no date? Awww, how am I supposed to torture the poor man? I suppose I'll have to wait for him to be all official about it, as usual. Ooo. That means you're Beatrice and Naomi's sister-to-be as well, Lana~" She grinned at that, rolling her eyes.

Lana was somewhat less enthused about that idea... Especially Naomi, after their rather unpleasant meeting. She was sure Naomi would be equally unhappy about the prospect too. Beatrice was a simpleton too, but one not prone to involving herself where she was not wanted, and so Lana worried less over her.

She took on a more serious tone then. "Alas, there are political reasons why I cannot provide a date... And why it is likely I will have to wait some time yet before I can marry him. If it were to be known in Nyhem that I engaged in a relationship with the Lord Blackwell even as I was sent to negotiate with him, doubt may be cast on the treaty, or my loyalties. I dare not risk Duncan's wrath." She purposefully avoided going into detail - she knew Drevala didn't like politics.

"Suffice it to say you cannot tell anyone of my relationship with Eli."

"C-Can I at least discuss it with Eli?" she asked, wilting considerably.

Lana's expression became one of remorse and concern - she did not take pleasure in destroying Drevala's enthusiasm.

"Of course you can, he knows my feelings for him."

She sighed then, and musing, continued. "Were it not for this accursed war, I would spend a month or more here, and eagerly announce my feelings to all."

Drevala cheered up a bit at hearing her ability to chatter with her brother over this topic.

"I would adore that, but it'll just get me sad to think of such a lost opportunity." the woman lifted a hand and ran it through her hair, the gesture certainly, Lana could now likely tell, a habit picked up from her brother.

"So you need to get back and as much as I'd love to keep you here, your work is important. Let me help with the spell."

Having just finished dressing, Lana quickly tied her hair and gathered her things. On her own it might've taken an hour or more to cast the spell needed to shift with her clothes, the papers from Duncan, the treaty, the Dagger and the Book, but with Drevala it would be far faster.

"Thank you. Until we meet again sister."

With that, she began to speak the words that would change her to a bird.

Those words had an undeniable effect upon Drevala, who instantly had her features twisted into immense happiness and a touch of melancholy. But then she had her focus wrapped up in assisting with the spell, and once it was complete she would stand and gather her thoughts for a moment.

"Farewell, sister." She called to the bird.

============
Concise Terms of the Negotiations

The Terms of Negotiation

As written in the hand of the lord Eli Blackwell of Alenius

First and formost, the independance of the lands under the lordship and demesne of those bearing the name of the Blackwell family shall not be under contest politically, militarily, or ideologically lest it be seen as a threat to the lands' independance and integrity. The independance of these lands and their sovereignty is furthermore acknowledged as legitimate in the eyes of the Gods, men, and kings of the Imperial Concord who sits upon the throne of Nyhem.

As per negotiations, the lands of Akki and Glarmion are to be granted to the independant Blackwell Kingdoms demesne. These lands are to be acquired without assistance on the part of the Imperial Concord, but the claims upon these kingdoms is legitimate and acknowledged as thus by the Imperial Concord and its kings.

A tithe is to be paid to the Imperial Concord for two years, on the part of the Blackwell Kingdoms. This tithe will amount to the sum of one tenth of the entirety of the demesne's yearly earnings and is not to be altered or negotiated beyond the current agreements.

The two parties are to co-operate and collaborate whenever necessary to reach the mutually wanted conclusion of the downfall of the Manshrew claimant and household and, ultimately, the stabilization of Formaroth.

An auxiliary force is to be mutually exchanged by the two parties, numbering at least one legion [one thousand] strong. The Imperial Concord and Blackwell Kingdoms may send commanders for these forces as they see fit.

The segment on discussing the price of armarments is initially penned with staggeringly high prices and offhand comments about mathematic formulae/functions and supply necessities during a war-time effort.

A marriage is to be hosted in Alenius, under the customs of Alenius, in order to cement this alliance between the Imperial Concord and the Blackwell Kingdom. Those partaking in the wedding are Patrick De Reimer and Naomi Blackwell. As a part of this cementation of the alliance, Naomi Blackwell's travels are not to be restricted should she wish to travel to Alenius so long as a Blackwell King sits its throne.

Any male children of this union are to be raised as wards in Alenius, whereas the female children may stay with their parents in Cawanor.

This treaty is agreed to and signed by Eli Blackwell, heir and crown prince of Alenius, under the permission and authority of Giles Blackwell, King of Alenius.

Death's No Stranger

Collaboration by Sundered Echo and PhoenixWhite

[Ellri]

The Morning After Urd Collapsed…

Thale Manor, in the heart of Nyhem, had become somewhat known as a safe haven for young mages in the City. Under Lanaya’s orders, Lord Dominus Thale had been making use of his modest house guard force to keep an eye on the city and peacefully bring stray potential mages to the house, that they might be sent to the Circle for a proper education. Though the events of the previous night did not exactly fall under this briefing, they were sufficient for the older Lord to feel it was worth investigating.

As such, the guards of House Thale had brought the unconscious young mage to the Manor, and when the city guard captain had agitated over not knowing what to do with a criminal iceblock, Lord Thale had ordered his men to take that into their custody as well.

Thus it was, that come the morning, a young mage-girl was asleep in the Manor’s guest room, and a slowly melting block of ice with questionable intent was secured in the small, two-cell dungeon off the Manor’s basement.

---

The second story guest room was warm, both due to the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, and the insulated walls that kept the heat in and the sound of the always-busy city out. A maid, a dark haired lass named Mary, was in the room laying out a set of fresh clothes for the guest - simple, utilitarian clothes instead of anything more fitting of nobility. As much as the Lord of the house would’ve liked to treat all such guests as his own children and lavish gifts upon them, he knew most of them were eager to move on to the next destination.

The first thing Urd noticed upon waking up was the fact that this was not her room at the Plucked Hen. The ceiling was not rough, wooden beams. That alone would make it clear. Instead, it was painted the color of the fresh grasses of spring. In between the pounding drums in her head, she slowly took in her surroundings.

The walls had a similar level of opulence. This was definitely far more than an inn. As it was presumably a guest room and not a dungeon, it wasn’t the church. Either it had to be a rich merchant’s house, or a noble one. She didn’t know of any particular rich merchants, and it was far more likely for the guards to associate with the nobles. The choice of color scheme told her next to nothing, so that didn’t help.

After taking in most of her surroundings, she realized that she wasn’t alone. There was a servant in the room. The servant had dark hair and a servant’s dress of white linen marked with a yellow and gold sigil that was not immediately familiar to Urd. From the looks of that, a prosperous but not a rich house. “Where am I?” she asked, her throat dry, so her voice was not altogether clean.

“Oh!” The servant exclaimed in surprise, jumping slightly. “M’lady, you’re awake!” After a moment, she had recovered, and spoke more calmly. “You are in Thale Manor. Lord Dominus Thale rescued you from the city.” Of course she didn’t know with any certainty the means by which their guest had been recovered, but she had heard the usual servants gossip. “I will fetch his Lordship - he can explain better.” She said, moving to leave.

Upon realizing just how sore her throat was, she only listened while looking for some water to drink. Fortunately, there appeared to be some on a side table. She did not stop the servant from leaving. Fortunately, nobody had messed with her clothes. She did not want anyone to see what lay underneath those, both out of shame and fear. Most people did not trust mages, and of those who did, few would ever trust anyone malformed by it. Though there were clothes laid out, she did not move to change, as there was no telling how long the servant would need to fetch this Lord Thale. She did sit up and drink plenty of more water, though. If anything would help with the headache, that would be it.

It took only a minute for the Lord to arrive. He was dressed in green, in tailored clothes that de-accentuated his mildly rotund nature, though anyone familiar with the fashion of the courts would see that he was a little behind the times in that area. “Ah! Young lady, good to see you are awake!” He said boisterously. “You were dreadfully pale when we found you. I was concerned you’d taken ill.” He strode in and took a seat in the largest of the several chairs in the room.

“Forgive the forward and blunt nature of this question, but I must ask.” He adjusted his weight in the chair before continuing, in a serious yet concerned voice. “Are you in any immediate danger? My guards tell me you were found in rather strenuous circumstances.”

“Drained only, milord. Not ill.” Her tone now that she’d woken up completely and drunk sufficient water was perfectly polite, giving some hint to her having been educated at least somewhat. “I should not be in any immediate danger, though.” at that point, her stomach made clear its lack of satisfaction with its lack of things to digest.

Dominus nodded as she spoke, his face lightening somewhat at the reassurance. “Where are my good manners?” He said when her stomach rumbled. “How long is it since you ate?” He asked, not expecting an answer, as he continued to speak, springing to his feet. “Are you in a mind to dine with me at the table or would you prefer to eat here? The kitchens are quite efficient, and will happily prepare a full meal as well should you desire, despite the early hour.”

“Your manners are impeccable. I merely burned a lot of energy yesterday. Dining at a table is certainly more proper than eating here. My manners are certainly not as good as they should be.” She got to her feet and managed to not stumble or do anything else improper. Curtsying properly as befit her rank, she presented herself. “My name is Lady Urd Raudhfell.”

“Lady Raudhfell?” He said, looking as if he was trying to recognise the name. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” He said with a half bow. “It will take a short time for the kitchens to prepare a meal, so you will have time to change if you wish. Ring the bell” He said, motioning to a thick velvet rope hanging from the roof - “If you wish a servant to assist you, or when you wish to have them show you to the dining hall. In the meantime, I implore you to treat my house as you would your own. You are our honored guest.” He bowed slightly again, then turned on his heel and left the room, giving her some space.

She thanked the Lord Thale before he left, then stood there in silence for a few minutes to think. She did not feel comfortable replacing her own clothes, stained though they were. She certainly appreciated the offer, though. This place was still far too unfamiliar. After looking herself over again, she rang the bell and asked a servant to show her to the dining hall.

Mary returned swiftly, acknowledging the request to be shown to the hall. They descended down an elegant flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the large room was, passing by various paintings of the previous Lords and Ladies Thale. Mary gave brief summaries of them as they passed them by, with the name and a their most prominent deed. She was clearly fairly proud of the House she served.

The table was much larger than necessary for two people. It would easily have hosted fifteen, maybe twenty people, but it was set only for two. Several other servants were just bringing out bread and various cheeses, though the smell of something more substantial wafted from the nearby kitchens.

“Lady Raudhfell.” Dominus said, acknowledging her as she entered the room. “Clothes not to your liking? I can have my servants fetch something more fitting for your station if you wish?”

“Lord Thale.” She smiled at the sight of food. “I prefer more spartan clothes, but there is no need to send a servant for any of that. I got plenty at the Inn where my family stays the rare times we visit Nyhem. These clothes suit me admirably for now.” When it was appropriate, she seated herself at the table, a bit unused to having a servant push the chair in as she sat down. She did suppose she should get used to such now that she truly was at court.

Dominus tore a piece off the loaf of bread in front of him and took a slice of cheese, taking a mouthful and chewing before speaking at a fairly leisurely pace. “If I might indulge in a question… What brings a noble of Cawanor” - he had guessed her place of origin by her name “And a mage no less, to this fair city, and then places her in such an unusual circumstance as did occur last night?”

As the Lord Thale spoke, Urd ate a few pieces of bread, waiting a little with the cheese. “There is no simple answer. On one hand, there is the brooding war and getting to know the lay of things, on the other is some family business.” she took a bite out of a piece of hole-riddled cheese, then continued. “As for how I came to be where I was yesterday? That was purely accidental. I saw a pair of assassins strike at a woman. I think there was something familiar about her, but I am not sure what. As is only proper, I tried to protect her, but I don’t know if I succeeded, for they struck her first. I did take down one of them though. The other ran off.” She then continued eating, waiting to see what Lord Thale would say.

“Very noble of you. Ahhh…. I remember the days when I would’ve done just the same, leaping into the fray mace in hand to save a fair damsel! Alas, time has not been kind to me.” He motioned slightly to his body - he was clearly not in fighting shape anymore. “I presume that the frozen individual downstairs is the one you took down. The captain of the guard was quite unsure what to do with that… And only too eager to hand the whole situation over to me. My house has become somewhat specialised in dealing with magical affairs you see. Magister Lanaya has taught us a great deal about how to properly approach the most unusual situations.” He stopped himself then, seeming to realise he was beginning to ramble, and moved onto a more relevant topic.

“You said you had family business? And an Inn where you were staying? I do hope I haven’t whisked you away from family in my desire to aid you. The guard said you had muttered something about a place to say, but they ignored you. They were quite unsure what to do with you, I heard some were considering locking you up.”

Urd smiled at the idea of the almost portly Lord Thale jumping into combat, then quickly realized that he was probably quite a different man in his youth. He could easily have been the warrior he claimed to have been. “The block of ice is the one assassin, yes.” She thought a bit on the mention of this ‘magister Lanaya’. She knew that mage, and had even studied under her at one point, but years have passed since they last met. “I travel alone, without the rest of my small family. My mother and my grandparents manage the lands and I have yet to meet my father.”

“That is a relief.” Dominus began, eating another chunk of bread with cheese. “I suppose it is a good thing I have the block of Ice in a cell then. Perhaps I shall assign another guard just to be safe though. Assassins are often more skilled than typical thugs… Do you think he survived? Lanaya will likely have questions for him if he did.”

“Not really sure. He might be alive, though he will probably die if a healer isn’t present as he thaws.” At that point, servants came in carrying several platters with more filling food. After they put them down and took away the cheese, Urd waited a moment before helping herself to some meat.

“I shall have a healer fetched then. It would not do for a killer with possibly interesting or valuable information to die in the Thale dungeon. The Magister would not be pleased at all.” With that, he began to dig into his own serving of meat, telling various tales of his younger years in between mouthfuls.

Once they had finished, he returned to the present, saying “My Lady, though you of course are free to leave whenever you desire, I must once again offer my hospitality to you. As a mage and fellow noble, you are welcome in this house any time, for as long as you wish. We have rooms aplenty, and, not to disparage your traditional Inn, we can provide more than any Inn in this city.”

If she was to fit in at court, it might be better to stay with a noble, and from what she did remember about the magister was that she had a sensible head on her shoulders. Any noble that could get along with her was probably as safe as the inn, if not safer. “What’s in it for you if I should stay here?” she asked, politely asking to be sure she would not be a burden.

Dominus chuckled lightly at that. “Your pleasant company of course. And when Lanaya returns from abroad, I’m sure she will want to speak with you - on magical theory most likely. It's all above my head but i’m sure you will find it most interesting.”

Collab with Sundered Echo

[Sundered Echo]

Lana, in bird form, soared down towards the balcony of Thale Manor in Nyhem. It had been a long flight back and her wings were tired, but she knew she would not have a chance to rest yet. She didn’t think Duncan would particularly like waiting for the treaty, and intended to deliver it at once.

When she touched down on the large balcony outside her room she wasted no time reversing the spell. Thankfully resuming one's original form was far easier than leaving it, and it took less than a minute to revert both herself and all the objects she was carrying. She let herself in (the balcony was high enough that the door was not kept locked) and bundled the various things onto her desk before ringing the servants bell.

A young maid with dark hair - Mary, if Lana recalled correctly, quickly arrived, curtseying elegantly before addressing Lana, a hint of surprise accompanying the usual submissive tone of a servant speaking to their master. “Mistress Dionisa. You’ve returned already?” The girl clearly didn’t expect an answer, swiftly moving to the news she had to deliver. “Master Thale has an urgent matter he wishes to speak with you about.” Dominus Thale still ran an efficient house, even if he ran almost nothing beyond it. “Yes. Please have the carriage prepared at once, and tell Dominus I will see him presently.” Lana ordered. Much as she disliked that means of travel, she was tired of flying and did not want to carry the treaty through another shift. The maid left quickly to carry out her request, gently shutting the door behind her.

It was only then that Lana took the objects she had received out of the bag they were in. She did not really know what to do with the dagger, and left it on her desk to remind her to decide a place for it later. The book would need a better means of protection in the future, but for now she decided to slot it into the already quite full bookshelf occupying a reasonable amount of one of her walls. It would be safe there, for a time, by virtue of appearing no different from its surroundings. It was at this moment Lana was thankful Drevala was not one to overly decorate things.

The papers and the Treaty went with her - both carefully contained in a scroll case. She did not take the time to change clothes, rushing downstairs to Dominus’ study as soon as she had put the various objects in place. Usually when he had ‘urgent news’ it meant something to do with a mage found in or near the city. As such, she was curious to hear of it, at least in brief, before departing.

“It's good to see you back safe Lanaya.” Dominus greeted her, standing and throwing out his arms to the side. She smiled, moved close to let him gently embrace her as she stood on her toes and planted a fleeting kiss on his cheek. She found the whole affair - typical of most of their meetings - endearing, as one might find a puppy’s eagerness endearing.

“It's good to be back. Mary tells me you have urgent news?” Lana responded.

“You must tell me of your travels. I have never been to Alenius.” Lana gave Dominus a look that said ‘politely get to the point now’ as he began to ramble. She had no time for his overly wordy nature at this moment. He quickly did just that. “Yes, news. A mage, Lady Urd Raudhfell, was recovered after a magical incident several days ago. She has decided to stay at the manor for the foreseeable future, while she attends to her business in the city. She says she intervened in an assassination attempt, and was able to capture one of the assailants, who is now thawing in our dungeon.”

Lana pondered for a moment, then stated “Thank you, that is interesting news indeed.Unfortunately, I must meet with the King immediately to deliver urgent news.” Dominus nodded. “I understand.” He said, visibly deflating somewhat. Lana payed it no mind. She would spend some time with him later and he would forget all about this neglect.

---

The Carriage ride to the palace was as dreary as carriage rides always were. Lana always found them far too bumpy and slow, and tended to scowl the entire trip. Her scowl only deepened whenever they had to stop for some obstruction on the roads. The only saving grace of it was that it gave her time to think of how to couch the delivery of the treaty to the King, who would no doubt be displeased at its result.

Hardly a saving grace at all really.

---

And thus, she found herself once again knocking at the door to the King's study late at night, butterflies in her stomach - though for entirely different reasons this time.

"Who are you!" demanded a voice from behind Layana. Isabel had been making her way to her room to retire from the days ordeals. With her stood Ulf and four other Cawanor soldiers, hands already on their sheathed weapons. After what had happened to Aurelia she was making sure that she was guarded at all times, at least until she knew she was safe. The sight of a suspicious woman stood outside her brothers room was a troublesome sight, particularly after what had happened.

"Magister Lanaya" Lana said as she turned on her heel. The woman addressing her had something of a resemblance to the king, and she seemed rather unhappy. Accompanied by not only several guards, but also a giant oaf of a mundane - larger than any Lana had seen before. She was clearly important. From this combination of factors, Lana guessed that this was Isabel De Reimer, the king's sister. With that in mind, she continued. "I am here to inform his Majesty of the results of the negotiations with House Blackwell. He will not want to wait for this information." She was as confident as ever, making no concessions despite the other woman's position on the Council. She expected the presence of the huge man was meant to scare people that interacted with Isabel, but no mundane frightened her, no matter how physically imposing.

Isabel’s muscles relaxed as the woman introduced herself. Duncan had told her about Lanaya and her mission to Alenius, and she appeared to match his description. She signaled to Ulf with a wave of her hand as he begrudgingly took his hand off his weapon, clearly disappointed by Lanaya's relaxed demeanor; he was used to people cowering in fear at the sight of him.
"My brother is currently...grieving" Isabel said as she looked towards the ground, clearly saddened by the pain her brother was currently in. Though she hadn't known Aurelia, she knew she had been close to Duncan and that her death had been hard on him "He recently lost a close friend, so unless this is of the utmost importance I suggest you return another day"

Inwardly, Lana began to wonder which of the king’s many mundane friends had gotten themselves killed. It was a dangerous time they lived in, and it could be one of many, under a wide variety of circumstances. It was unfortunate, but as far as she was concerned, it was not worth waiting for. After all, even in the darkest moments, it was the responsibility of a king to govern his lands, and see to their security. This treaty concerned the later quite pointedly.

"That is... unfortunate." She began, only a hint of empathy in her voice. "But despite this circumstance, the war wages on. This treaty will affect that most grave of matters significantly. There can be no delay in its presentation."

"If that truly is the case then you will find my brother in the castle crypts. He will be saying his final farewells to his friend before she is buried beneath the grand temple. I suggest you don't anger him, the king has very little tolerance for incompetence right now" Isabel said spitefully as she continued down the hallway to her room, clearly angered by Lanaya's seeming disregard for her brother's feelings.

"Thank you." Lana replied coolly. Isabel seemed to her to be a less pleasant mundane, and she did not wish to interact any more than necessary with the woman. The thought briefly occurred to her that she may have made an enemy here today, but it did not concern her overmuch. What threat could Isabel, who hid behind the fear generated by her brutish manservant, possibly be to her?

She stepped passed the group of guards and headed towards the crypt. She was eager to be done with this so she could determine with certainty the next part of her plan.

---

The crypts of the castle were as cold as the bodies they housed. The crypt was one long rounded hallway with the various kings and queens of old crammed to either side of in their stone coffins. The crypts were originally made as the last resting place for royalty of Formaroth. However as the years went by the crypts were not large enough to fit the growing number of deceased royals. As a result the monarchs of Formaroth were now buried in the grand temple tombs, the inevitable resting place that Aurelia Vyncetta would soon find herself in. On the far end of the crypt was a stone altar where the deceased Aurelia now lay. Though the priests and clerics had tried their best to hide her wounds Duncan could still see the various stab wounds that had been inflicted. The priests and Clerics had left their king to grieve in private leaving Duncan alone in the crypt. He still could not accept what had happened. After everything they had been through, after knowing each other for so long, after the confession they had made only a few days prior, that it ended like this. This had been the second time that Duncan had lost a woman he loved, but it was never the less just as painful.

Lana strode confidently into the chill atmosphere of the crypts (a small part of her thankful she had kept her thick travel clothes on) casting only a brief glance at the body on the alter. The sight she saw didn't entirely register in her mind as she began to address the king.

"Your grace." She stopped a moment and hastily bowed before continuing. "I bring vital new from the land of Aleni-"

She stopped suddenly, looking towards the altar again as she realized who exactly it was.

She staggered back, recoiling as if physically struck. It was Aurelia on the alter.

Aurelia was dead.

It was impossible. It had to be a dream - nay, a nightmare. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished to wake up... But when she opened them again, all she was greeted with was the sight of Aurelia's body once more.

"H- How did this... Come to pass..." She managed to meekly stammer. All her prior confidence and bluster was gone, the color draining from her face as shock set in.

Duncan hardly even acknowledged the entrance of Lanaya, he simply remained looking at Aurelia, his face unchanging. After a long silence Duncan finally decided to reply.

"She was murdered" Duncan answered bluntly and without feeling. In times of hardship Duncan tried his best to empty himself of emotion so as to save himself from the pain. However he knew that he was only delaying the inevitable and before long he would have to face his grief head on.

Murdered.

It was the only logical explanation, but hearing it stated aloud galvanized Lana's feeling from shock at the loss into anger. She clenched her fists, her whole body going tense. She wished nothing more than to summon fire and torch everything around her in a literal burning rage. Thankfully, spells of that nature required intentional summoning of the sort not susceptible to fits of emotion...

“Who did this.” She half asked, half demanded, rage evident in her voice. She almost continued to speak, but held her tongue through sheer force of will - knowing that the words she wished to say would not do her cause any favors.

The rage in Lanaya's voice brought Duncan back to his senses. The pain and anguish in her voice was identical to how he was currently feeling.

"If I knew that then I wouldn't be here. I would be in the torture chamber tearing the fingernails off the bastard that did this" Duncan said as he turned furiously at Lanaya. He could no longer suppress his emotions, all the pain he had desperately tried to keep buried had at last resurfaced. And it had come in the form of anger.

Inwardly, Lana was happy to see this outburst from the King. It was selfish, but it gave her satisfaction to see that she was not the only one suffering. He shared the same rage, brought up from the depths of despair.

Lana's features were hard as she replied. Her voice was quiet, dangerous in tone. "Should you discover the scum that took Aurelia, a sister to me, a lover to you, from us... I would join you in that chamber. They deserve to know the pain that only a master of destruction and illusion can inflict."

Duncan tried to calm himself, he couldn't risk showing Lanaya any more emotional weakness then he already had. He felt tears of both anger and sadness swell in his eyes and he turned away so that Lanaya couldn't see them.

"Before we hunt down the people responsible, we need to know who we can trust" Duncan said as he tried to keep his voice steady "I fear whoever is responsible has more influence than previously suspected. It was likely someone within the very walls of this keep. Tell me, you say that Aurelia was a sister to you, someone that she trusted, someone that you would never harm"?

Lana's eyes narrowed as Duncan spoke. He was accusing her of this heinous crime. Of course, it made sense when she thought about it. He was mundane. All mundanes feared mages. They couldn't help but be suspicious. With emotions running as high as they were, the part of her that wanted to react excessively almost won out, but the need to defend her political position and get vengeance for Aurelia was stronger.

"I trust you are not accusing me of plotting to harm the only woman who was meaningful family to me?" She said, her voice fairly calm relative to before, but with equal amounts of anger and outrage still very much present.

She took a moment to collect herself and suppress her feelings before continuing. Feelings still bubbled beneath the surface, but she needed control now. "And if my word and heartfelt feelings are not enough, I shall tell you why it would be political madness for me to plot against her. I encouraged her to further her relationship with you. Happiness aside, having such a kind and benevolent mage as queen of Formaroth would help to improve the people's opinions of mages to an extent I could never achieve alone. And the council position she no longer fulfills - assuming I wanted it, I could've acquired it far more easily with her recommendation. Now suspicion of wanting to climb the political ladder will fall upon me, the next most powerful and politically savvy mage in your employ. That would not help my chances in the slightest."

She was silent then, awaiting his response. She could only hope he was not so paranoid that he would continue suspecting her despite all the evidence of her innocence.

Duncan listened carefully to Lanaya's words. What she said was true, emotional attachment aside Lanaya didn't have any logical reason to kill Aurelia. Though Duncan suspected a great many people, Lanaya was not one of them.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to accuse you, I simply need to know who I can trust" Duncan tried to sound sympathetic but his reply was empty and cold. He was emotionally drained; he no longer felt sadness or anger or fear, he simply felt tired. "In which case I will ask that you meet with me tomorrow evening, I will collect together everyone I know we can trust and discuss our next course of action. For now I wish to mourn alone"

"I understand." Lana replied, true sympathy in her voice.

She turned on her heel, treaty in hand, and exited the room, shutting the door gently behind her. As she did, the sound of a grown man sobbing came to her, muffled by the thick door, but unmistakable. Duncan truly had loved Aurelia. There was no doubt in Lana's mind now. It only worsened the tragedy.

She wished to do the same, break down and cry, but she would not be seen to be so emotional in the corridors of the castle. She maintained a steely, cold control on the journey back to the Manor, cursing her decision to take the carriage. Every bump in the road, every delay, threatened to break the false calm and spill over into rage.

When she arrived at the Manor once more she spoke only to instruct Mary to ensure the staff knew she was not to be disturbed. When she finally reached her room, she cast the treaty in its scroll case aside without thought or care as her fragile veneer of control dissipated at last.

It had been only minutes since she had wished for nothing more than to unleash magical devastation on something, anything. But now the physical weariness of recent endeavors caught up with her. The despair of loss set in. She collapsed on her bed, tears streaming down her face, gentle sobs wracking her tired, grief stricken body, wishing for the night, and the torment, to end.

Collab with TheDuncanMorgan

[TheDuncanMorgan]

Alenius had passed Thale manor on many occasions during her time in here in Nyhem. However until now she had never paid it much mind; to her it was nothing more than the home of another rich man. As she walked up to the door six members of the city watch followed closely behind her. Most of them had witnessed Urd's magical prowess first hand last night and as a result were slightly on edge. Alenius knocked loudly on the door and waited patiently for someone to answer. Eventually a maid came to the door, evidently surprised by the appearance of seven armed guards at her door.

"We have come for Urd Raudhfell" Alenius said firmly. "We have many questions for her regarding the events that transpired last night."

Mary, once she had wiped the shocked expression from her face, addressed the rather well armed group in front of the house. “My Lady.” She began - it was always safer to assume a lofty title and be corrected down than the other way around. “I’m sorry but Lady Raudhfell is not at the house right now. Accompanied by some of Lord Thale’s guards, she is collecting her things at the Inn she was previously staying at.” She looked to the left, down at the guard who was supposed to answer the door, but was currently asleep at his station. Again. He knew the name of the Inn.

She delivered a swift but relatively soft kick to his leg to wake him up. It was a terrible embarrassment to have such a thing witnessed by the City Guard, but she wanted to help them as much as possible too, lest they decide to enter and track dirt over the floors she had just cleaned. The guard was quickly awake again, leaping to attention, before realising it was only a maid waking him and not his Lord, leading him to slouch a little. When she motioned to the guests, he stood straighter still, seeing the uniform of the city guard. “Tell them the Inn Lady Raudhfell was going to.” She said impatiently. “The Plucked Hen Sirs, Ma’am.”

~|~

“Then we will head their at once.” Alenius said as she signalled to her men who turned on the spot and marched in the direction of The Plucked Hen. “Do let you Lord know that Lady Raudhfell may be, delayed” Alenius said before she too turned around and marched away.

~|~

Coming back to the Plucked Hen was good. Urd did not really pay all that much attention to the two guards Lord Thale had sent along to help her carry things to the manor. She did not think she needed protecting, but would not at all mind not having to carry her things herself or otherwise arrange for the transport. When she stepped inside the tavern, the Innkeep, practically a friend of the family, smiled with relief to see her unharmed. She exchanged the usual greetings, informed him about her plans to move to the manor and made sure to pay him well. She made it very clear to him that his service was nothing to be complained about, but that the Thale Manor simply was more practically placed in relation to the court and that it was all part of the courtly politics. She would gladly stay with him in the future, should the need present itself. He in turn was polite back, especially upon seeing how well she paid him.

They were about to return to the manor when a sizable group of city watchmen accompanied an important-looking individual. One of the watchmen pointed at one of the two guards accompanying her (now also holding one end of a large chest), so Urd got a fairly clear idea that they wanted to talk with her. “Yes? Can I help you?” she asked the important-looking woman.

Alenius stood forward as the watchmen stood sheepishly behind her.
“My name is Alenius, personal bodyguard to the king.” Alenius’ voice filled the room as she spoke proudly of her new title. “Am I right in assuming you are Lady Raudhfell?”

“Your assumption is correct. Is there anything I can help you with?” Urd asked, having a fairly good theory about what it could be, but feeling that the formalities had to be covered.

“As you are aware a murder took place last night, a murder that you had first hand experience of. What you might not of been aware of is that the victim was a member of the High council; High Magister Aurelia Vyncetta. The king wishes to question you about the events that transpired that night”.

At first, Urd did not reply. She knew all about the various ranks at court, about how important a high magister was. When the name was mentioned, threads connected in her mind. “So that’s what was familiar about her…” she muttered. “I knew there was something vaguely familiar… It is quite unfortunate that she died.”

Directly after responding, she looked at the two House Thale guards. “You two, take that chest back to the manor. I have a feeling that this conversation may take time, and I do not wish to keep you from your regular duties longer than absolutely necessary. I am sure enough that these members of the City watch are more than skilled enough to protect against any martial threats. As for magical threats… Now that I know to be prepared, I should be able to handle those well.”

As they moved to depart, she then turned back to the the woman who claimed to be the king’s bodyguard. “Sorry about the delay. What do you need to know about yesterday’s events?”

A couple of the city guards nervously stepped back as Urd approached them, they had seen what she had done last night and they were sure to keep their distance from her. Though they quickly stepped back into line after receiving a venomous look from Alenius.
“I am afraid I am unable to say. His grace wishes to ask you in person, I have merely been sent to escort you back to the keep. Please follow me.” Alenius said as she turned round and headed towards the door of the inn; she was eager to get back to the keep as soon as possible, her king was not in the mood to be kept waiting.

“Very well.” Urd said, moving to follow the bodyguard, not giving the two guards who momentarily stepped back any more attention than she gave the rest. Whether this was out of respect, ignorance or something else was not easy to tell. She kept her eyes open and had the commands to summon one of her shades ready on the entire hike to the keep, for though she did not doubt the guards’ skill, she preferred to be on the safe side.

*

Duncan had been pacing across his room for what felt like an hour. During times of stress he found that walking helped him to think. He had ordered Cawanor soldiers to be stationed outside his room at all times and had reinforced the keep with twice as many soldiers as usual. The threatening note and the Murder of Aurelia could not of been a coincidence, they had a assassin in their midst and Duncan would do everything in his power to expose the killer. The main question was who could he trust? A question he had been pondering over since this morning. A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought.

“It is Alenius your grace. I have brought Lady Urd Raudhfell.”

The castle was not at all the way Urd had expected. After seeing the manor of a minor noble family like Thale, she would have expected the castle to be even more opulently decorated. But this was not the case. In fact, she could clearly see places where paintings, tapestries and statuary had been removed, presumably for sale, as they were nowhere to be seen. Still, though very spartanly decorated, the castle complex was vast, far larger than any she had visited before. She did note that there were unusually many guards standing about in the familiar Cawanori livery in addition to the regular royal guards.

She was more than a little anxious at the thought of seeing the man who supposedly was her uncle and the high king. What would he be like? Would he see something familiar in her? Should she tell him? Or should she try to find her father before telling anyone? Was he even someone she would like to know? She knew next to nothing of him or the rest of that family. She’d heard some hearsay and such, but she knew not to trust sayings like those blindly.

Alenius was the first to enter the king’s chambers; she strategically placed herself between her king and Urd, hand on her weapon so that it could be drawn in an instant. Though the chances of Urd attacking Duncan were extremely low she was taking no chances. Behind Urd followed the two Cawanor guards that were previously guarding the door. Like Alenius they were watching Urd’s every move intensly. Duncan took a moment to examine Urd. Though her clothes were not particularly elaborate, they were still befitting for a lady of her status. Most of her face was hidden behind her hood, but despite that Duncan still found that there was strange familiarity to it.

“So you are Lady Raudfell.” Despite the anxiety and pain he was currently feeling, he talked to Urd in a friendly and gentle manner. The De Reimers were good friends with house Raudhfell and Duncan did not want Urd to feel unwelcome, “How long have you been here in Nyhem? and what is your reason for coming here?”

“I am.” She kept a polite smile on her face, not revealing the churning emotions underneath the surface. “I have only been here a few days. As for why? Family business. Certainly not to witness assassinations.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Duncan said as he sat down at his desk “Please do take a seat.” Duncan said as he gestured to the seat opposite him. “I assume you know that the woman who was assassinated last night was High Magister Aurelia of the high council. I have called you here in the hopes that you may be able to shed some light on the events that transpired last night. Did the assassin’s give you any idea of who may have been behind the attack?”

“I gathered as much from various sources,” Urd said as she took the offered seat. “I can’t say I truly knew the High Magister, but I have seen her a few times before.” As she spoke, she studied the high king’s face. It was a stranger’s face, yet several traits were familiar. In particular, the ones that she had not inherited from her mother. But of course there were unfamiliar elements as well, for though they were supposed to be related, he was only her uncle, not her father. She wondered what her father was like. What he looked like.

“The assassins offered no hints as to their client. But one of them is slowly thawing out in a locked room in the Thale Manor. I have no idea if he is alive still, but his belongings and appearance might shed some light if he isn’t. Other than that, I doubt I can provide much information.” She kept on studying the high king, thinking even more on what her father could be like, feeling more than a little nervous about meeting him. She was not yet ready to bring it up, though.

“I was wondering what had happened to the assassin. My various sources told me that he had mysteriously disappeared despite being frozen in a block of ice. In which case I shall order the assassin be brought to the keep should he survive. Likewise his belongings will be brought here as well so as to be examined by a member of the alchemist guild. Hopefully they will be able to shed some light on who ordered the attack.” Once Duncan finished he noticed that Urd was staring quite intensively at his face, as if she were studying it. “Is something the matter Lady Raudfell?”

“Your spies cannot be very effective then. I have no idea how many saw me cross parts of Nyhem with that block of ice hovering behind me, but there were many of them. And even if they did not hear about that, they must’ve heard of the men carrying or carting it to the Thale manor, right? Do your spies even speak to the regular citizens of Nyhem? If not, how do they expect to uncover plots against you? If they do, how could they not get pertinent information like this? Are they all useless?” She stopped talking, perhaps realizing that her tone may have been a touch aggressive and wrong to use when speaking to a king. “No. Nothing is wrong.” she answered, after he asked his final question.

Duncan raised an eyebrow as he gave Urd a cold stare
“Careful girl. Your family may be close friends of the crown but I am still your king. I suggest talking more softly in future.” There was no hostility or aggressiveness in Duncan’s voice, but it was commanding enough to let Urd know that she had overstepped her boundaries when it came to addressing her king.

“My apologies, Sire. It is not often I am at court, let alone the high court.” Her tone upon saying this was perfectly chastised. She was decidedly not ready to speak of her probable relation to him. She had by now memorized enough of his appearance to later be able to think it over.

Duncan’s face softened as Urd profusely apologised. Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh on her. But as king he had to make sure that people knew who was in charge.
“Apology accepted. Now if you excuse me I have a lot of work that I need to complete before the day is over. If you have no questions for me then I must ask for our conversation to come to an end,” Duncan paused for a moment as an idea came to mind, “Lady Urd, in light of certain events I can imagine that you may feel at risk. If you desire I could give you a room here in the keep. I would hate for a member of House Raudfell to come to harm.”

“I have no further questions for you, sire.” The purpose behind her momentary lapse in formality achieved, Urd had returned to her former propriety. “However kind the offer of a room is, I have already accepted residence within the Thale manor. It would not be proper to announce a change of mind so suddenly. Besides, if the looks of the corridors here are anything to go by, staying there should be more comfortable.”

She turned to leave and started walking towards the door before pausing and turning back momentarily, “Insofar as safety goes… Let’s just say that I can take care of myself...” With that said, she turned back towards the door, walking away and letting the high king think on her words.

Credits

@TheDuncanMorgan @Ellri

[TheDuncanMorgan]

It was dark and damp in the hull of the ship and the smell was horrendous. Though Alicja was beyond caring. She was currently alone in the cargo hold of Bachelor's Delight; sitting between two barrels with her head in her knees. Not only had her father been executed right in front of her, but she now knew the truth of what had happened to the rest of her family: After the execution a town crier had come up on stage to announced to the crowd the events that had unfolded in Ralda. Though the town crier was clearly biased towards supporting the concord, Alicja learnt that Godwyn had been killed during the fighting and Pearl captured. This was too much for her to take in. She had hoped that some time alone down here would help clear her mind and allow her to come to terms with what had happened. Needless to say, it had not helped. The only thing she could think about was her family, namely pearl. The idea of her little sister rotting away in the Nyhem dungeon's was a thought that made her stomach turn.

Alicja heard footsteps of someone coming down into the hull of the ship. As she raised her head she saw Christain stumbling down the uneven stairs of the ship. Alicja didn't make eye contact with him; she had been crying earlier and she didn't want him to know, though it was likely obvious either way. Christain slowly made his way over to her.

"Sir Ramfrey says that the ship will be setting off in an hour or so" Christain said gently "Though, I think you know I didn't come down just to tell you that. How are you holding up"?

"How do you think" Alicja replied dryly "My father and brother are dead and my little sister is a prisoner of the De Reimers" Alicja paused for a moment as tears once again began to swell in her eyes "What did my family do to deserve such a fate" She exclaimed. Christain thought carefully over his response as Alicja tried to hold back her tears

"I believe that question has been asked by many people over the years. I guess the best we can do is avenge Lord Henry's and Lord Godwyn's death. In that sense we can at least hope for justice". These word were reminiscent of something that Lord Godwyn said regularly; 'The only justice that can be found in the world is the justice you make yourself'. "Once you meet up with Dilys and Ian you can all focus on getting the justice your family deserves". Alicja looked Christain directly in the eyes. Though the sorrow that had been in her eyes before was still there, there was now a glint of determination.

"As much as I want to be reunited with my siblings, I cannot leave Nyhem yet" Alicja's voice was confident and clear.

"What do you mean" stammered Christain shocked at Alicja's response

"I am not going to leave my sister a prisoner of House De Reimer. I am the last hope she has to escape from here. I couldn't save father and I couldn't help Godwyn, but I will do everything in my power to assure that my sister is safe and out of the hands of our enemies".

***

Alicja stood alongside Christain and Ramfrey as she watched the Bachelor's Delight sail out of the mouth of the harbor. She realized that this would likely be the last chance she would get in years to see her family again. As much as that thought pained her she knew she could never forgive herself if she abandoned Pearl when she needed her most.

"You do realize it is unlikely we will succeed in rescuing Pearl" Christain said as he gave Alicja a smile. He had tried to convince Alicja to remain on the ship and sail to Rathikun. Though it was to no avail. Alicja had made up her mind it was clear that nothing was going to change it.

"I know. But I am a Mazeltof, 'We never quit, we never give up and we never surrender'" Alicja spoke proudly as she recited her family motto. "This is my own path, neither of you have to walk it if you don't want to". Christain simply continued to smile

"I have been by your side since we were children, I don't plan to abandon you now" Alicja returned a smile before looking over at Ramfrey

"And you sir"? Ramfrey paused for a moment before replying

"I will stay by your side Lady Alicja. I failed to protect Ralda and I failed to protect your father. At the very least I can help you now, I swear my sword to you" Ramfrey said with a smile; he had made many vows in his lifetime, but they had all just been for show, this one actually meant something.

[ZB1996]

Lycaon Plans

For now Lycaon had served his time in the King’s Court, at least for today. For now he would have time to think on what he had saw, but he would not be able to rest. He could never truly rest. Yet at least it was better than during his days in the war. There he never knew peace. As his mind wondered, he thought of how those armchair aristocrats had never and would never really get a taste of the battlefield, even though there was a war on now.

“The more I learn about these aristocrats the less I like them,” Sir Daeleth said.

“I expected that you say that,” Lycaon said.

“They tried to kill a little girl,” Sir Daeleth said. “The only one of her entire family who has a soul worth a thing.”

“They are honorable men and women,” Lycaon said.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sir Daeleth said. “To a simple man like me they simply look like a bunch of bullies and plotters.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Daeleth,” Lycaon said. “But we have more pressing matters to attend to than complaining about barbarians.”

“The Grand Cleric,” Daeleth said.

“Yes,” Lycaon said. “I’ll make no qualms about it. She has been obstinate, preventing us from using the resources of the Church to our own advantage and fighting with us every step of the way. She will prevent us from getting anything worthwhile done, so she must be eliminated.”

“Make it look like an accident, then?” Daeleth said.

“No,” Lycaon said. “I already have it all planned out. She has long lived passed her prime, and everyone knows that luxury is her only true friend, other than decadence. No one shall be surprised of a little heart attack. I have sent Antony to get it done. He will be able to get close, and the lad is well enough that he knows how to get them both alone and get her a drink while he’s at it, and to tamper with the drink.”

“I see,” Daeleth said. “And what then? What is my part in all this?”

“Killing Mildred is the easy part,” Lycaon said. “The hard part is ensuring that Yvainne becomes Grand Cleric. If he doesn’t, then the whole enterprise was merely a waste of time and energy. I need you here, Daeleth, because though you may hate the noble’s tact and their masquerades of geniality, of all the men and women I have besides me that I trust, you are the smartest.”

“I’d rather be out fighting than stuck up in here,” Daeleth said.

“You may get your wish in time,” Lycaon said. “The Order is not fighting – not yet – but it is only a matter of time, I am sure.”

The Assassination

Sir Antony was there, standing over High Cleric Mildred. He felt very uncomfortable around her, but at least today he was not there to grant her any “favors.” Antony did not poison the drink himself. That was left a young, handsome youth about twenty who had suffered the same fate that Antony had at the fate of Mildred, though he had suffered it repeatedly. He was given a small bribe and then eagerly inserted the poison into Mildred’s goblet. Antony was glad that Mildred could finally die. He was sure that no one would ever miss her, and he was glad that her legacy would consist mostly of a name, scrawled on lists of the heads of the Church. Fellow Knights of Order were stationed outside, so no one would disturb them. No one would know that Mildred had been assassinated, maybe even Mildred herself. Only a select few within the Order would know.
“My, if it isn’t my favorite young squire from that little Order,” Mildred said. “Is that a drink for me in your hand there?”

“Yes, your holiness,” Antony said. It made him angry that she had called him a squire. He wasn’t a squire anymore, he was a knight. He had worked for this job. He swallowed his pride and ignored it, and he put the goblet filled with poisoned wine on a finely-crafted wooden table. Now Antony only had to wait for Mildred to take a drink from it.

“But I much prefer you on your knees,” Mildred said. “So why not take a little kneel for your holiness?”

Antony did not argue. He took a kneel.

“Ah you are one of the few-” and Mildred could not help but laugh at that word. “-Who knows that I am not a saint. So let me ask you, did you not enjoy your night with me? Tell me that you enjoyed it.”

It was an order, so he could not refuse. He knew that she was taunting him, tormenting him. “Yes, your holiness, I enjoyed it,” Antony said.
Mildred uttered a wicked laugh. “I could not help but bring it up, for when you called me holiness I could not help but stare the irony of it in the face. But, you know, boy, that you were not the only one I enjoyed. There was also your leader, Lycaon. When he was a youth he was a much better sight than you, with his long, flowing blonde hair. How do you think he got a holy order of his own?”

Mildred took a big gulp of the gobley. Antony waited for the poison to take effect. It was supposed to take effect immediately. To his surprise, it didn’t.

“I give favors, you know?” Mildred said. “Sexual favors for a favor of my power. Material favors for material favors, in a way. I help give Lycaon everything he now values. How else could he hope to make his way up in the ecclesiastical hierarchy than by impressing a cleric or bishop? You wasted your favor by giving it to Lycaon. As for that boy in the kitchen, I gave him everything that his life as a pauper deprived him of, and more. As a result he’s more loyal than a puppy, and would do anything to keep me alive, for otherwise his useless self is back on the streets.”

When Mildred began to talk Antony was nervous. Now he was horrified.

“You know, that Lycaon is an impressive man,” Mildred said. “He has a superb intellect, he’s a great visionary, but he doesn’t read people well enough to belong in the capital. Did you really think you could outsmart me with such a simple plot? If I could be killed that easily, I would have died years ago. I am aware I am not the most popular woman in the country.” She laughed.

What was he supposed to do now? He now realized why he had been stripped of his weapons when he came in here. This was all very bad, and Antony was not sure exactly what he was supposed to do. He didn’t want to die, but if it came to that, so be it. That, however, would not be all. If a member of the Order was implicated in an assassination attempt, it would end up trickling upward to Lord Lycaon. Lycaon could prepare an excuse, to be sure. “Antony was abused by Grand Cleric Mildred, so he had her assassinated,” Lycaon could say. But it would not be enough to avoid scandal, if a member of his Order was involved in something something so shocking.

“Clever, I’ll give you that,” Antony said. “But there’s one thing that you didn’t account.”

Mildred laughed. “And whatever could that be? My guards will be here in mere moments, and both you and your fellow Orderlings will be dispatched.”

“When you had my weapons stripped from me,” Antony said as he pulled out a knife. “Your lackeys forgot to search me. They accepted my honesty by faith.”

“Those fools!” Mildred said.

Antony ran forward. Mildred uttered a scream, but it was quickly silence. Antony with a first slash slit her throat, and then he stabbed his knife into her heart. She died relatively quickly, for Antony cut at her furiously and with much strength. Now that this part was done, Antony had to deal with the hard part. Antony had only one hope, and he had been lucky for it. There was a fireplace here, and Antony knew where Mildred kept the oil lamps. That left only choice. He went to the cupboard where the oil lamps were kept, and one by one emptied their oil on to the ground. Then he picked up a stool and like it was a torch led it into the fireplace. Once it was on fire he took it from the fireplace and made sure it touched all the paths of oil before letting go of it and allowing it to disintegrate in flames.

Then once everything in the room was firmly being set ablaze, Antony left the room, and went out to meet his two fellow knights who standing outside. They were both dutifully continuing to guard the room, but when Antony came out they could hear the cackling of the fire and the heat of the flames.

“So, uh, what’s going in there, Antony?” one of them asked.

“Continue to this guard this room,” Sir Antony said. “Do not let anyone in, and I mean anyone, even under the threat of imminent death.”
Then they saw soldiers who served the Church, but were not part of their Order, approaching them. They looked guarded, and had one hand on the hilt of their swords. As he saw them approaching Antony sighed, and then drew up his sword.
“I do not like where this is going,” the other Knight said.

Return to the Throne Room

Lycaon still had on his mind what happened to Mildred, and to his Knights. It was very clearly not what he had in mind. There had been a fire at Mildred’s country estate, and nearly everyone inside, including all of his knights, had died. So far, they had been unable to identify the Grand Cleric’s body. This was supposed to have been simple, easy, and clean. Instead there was this fire. He had large plans for Antony. He was so young, but already a knight. He was bright, and he learned easily, but also was a warrior some skill. Every week it seemed he was a better fencer. Now he was gone.

“Sir,” Tydeus said.

“Yes?” Lycaon said. He had become distracted by fonder memories.

“If you were serious about meeting the King, then we better be on our way,” Tydeus said.

The priest was right. So Lycaon entered into the Carriage, and Tydeus entered in behind him, and both of them took their seat. As the driver let loose the horses with a slap of the reins, Lycaon for a moment allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts. There had been many men and women who Lycaon had known that had died – Yzebel, Hanot, Harnish, and now Antony – and the answer to it all was not to let some passion overwhelmed you when it happened, or you would go crazy. Lycaon did not talk to Tydeus, for he had nothing to say to the priest, nor did he have anything to say to him. He had only brought Tydeus because unlike himself, Tydeus was not here to make friends and allies, and so his statements towards the King could be bolder.

The guards were hesitant to let them in at first, and blocked their way. It was because of the death of Aurelia. After she had briefly gone missing, her body was found. Assassination. He honestly did not know enough of her, only that she was a great mage, and one with a considerable degree of influence.

"Peace, men," Lycaon said. "I am Lycaon, Grandmaster of the Order of Saint Elenor, and chosen represented of His Majesty between the Church and the State. I have business with him, and I cannot promise His Majesty's approval if you do not move your spears."

Lycaon's expression, serene, remained unchanged throughout.


Then They entered into the Kingly hall, where King Duncan was on his throne and the conniving and whispering aristocrats were all around. Lycaon with Tydeus close behind him approached Duncan with reverence, and then kneeled before their King.

“Salutations, my King,” Lycaon said. “For what is worth, her holiness Grand Cleric approved of my position as a representative between you and the holy Church. Though the Church has been thrown into limbo by the death of her holiness, my position still stands. I am sure you already are fully aware of that situation, however, so I shall pass over it. I understand that in these times of conflict and war, soldiers and the supplies needed to supply them are always running short. If you do not mind, my King, would you be willing to hear a proposal of mine in that respect? I have brought with me a priest. A scholastic. He specializes in the theorizing and speculations that the scholastics do.”

"Salutations, my King," Tydeus said.

Duncan stared intensely at Lycaon as he walked towards the throne. Duncan had only found out about Mildred's death a few days prior to the days hearings and had had little time to prepare a solution for the problem. Duncan found it suspicious that Mildred's death happened so soon after Lycaon's promotion.

"Greetings to you Sir Lycaon. I am greatly saddened to hear of the death of her holiness. Someone as pious as her did not deserve such a cruel fate. Tell me, what do you wish to propose to me?"

“What I propose, my King,” Lycaon began. “War is always wears a heavy price on the nation, especially on its treasury, so I aim to lift the burden slightly. I can raise a brigade from the populace, train them, and supply them, all without your Majesty paying a single piece of gold.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at Lycaon's proposition. He was skeptical of how Lycaon planned to achieve his offer. "A most generous proposal, in response of which I have three questions. Firstly how many soldiers do you think you can raise? Secondly how do you plan to arm them? weapons and Armour are hardly cheap, after all."

"A full brigade, your Majesty," Lycaon said. "One-thousand strong. Indeed, it will not be a cheap endeavor, but at the moment the war is not so desperate that the supplies are not available at a price. The Church has the funds to provide it."

Indeed, Lycaon could gather the funds from within the Church. At the moment, while the Church was in limbo, he had never been more influential.

Duncan remained silent for a moment. In principle there was no reason Lycaon couldn't achieve this goal. He now had full access to the Church’s funds, and his influence over both the clergy and people would make it easy for him to find recruits across Sypius.

"Very well. I don't doubt that you can achieve this, but that bring me to my next question. What do you want in return?”

"Nothing, your Majesty," Lycaon said. "But the satisfaction of helping in the war effort."

Duncan didn't believe Lycaon for a second. Though he hide behind the pretense of good will, Duncan knew that Lycaon wanted the one thing that everyone in this room desired; power. No that this was a problem, Lycaon was loyal to him, and whatever power Lycaon attended would ultimately belong to Duncan.

"A most noble gesture, Sir Lycaon, and I gracefully accept. Tell me, has any process been made by the clergy to elect a new leader of the church. After all, in such perilous times it is of paramount importance that the Church elects a Grand priest quickly and decisively."

"The initial panic, your Majesty, has subsided," Lycaon said. "And by now letters are being sent to our priest-electors and cleric-electors across the Kingdom. Once they have arrived, there begins the real challenge of getting a majority to agree on who shall lead the Church."

"Will you be taking part in this vote? If so, who do you plan on supporting? I am sure that someone of your influence would provide substantial aid to whomever you decided to vote for."

"I myself take no part in the vote, your Majesty," Lycaon said. "Though for my part, I have been hoping that Secretary of the Grand Temple, Marcus Irenaeus, shall go into the running, for I know him, and he is a man of good character and reputation. But, your majesty, I shall not bother you anymore with this, and I thank you for your generosity."

"Very good, Sir Lycaon," Duncan said as he gestured at Lycaon to leave. "I hope your brigade truly can help bring peace to the lands of Sypius."

Lycaon bowed to King Duncan in respect, as did the scholastic Tydeus next to Lycaon.

“Tydeus, your Majesty, shall remain here at your honorable court should you have any questions on any of my plans.”

Then Lycaon soon left, departing from King Duncan’s court and heading on his way to the future business at hand.

Meeting with a Dishonest Man

Lycaon left the Palace grounds, having let the scholastic stay back at the Court. He would be able to care of Lycaon’s business there if anything came up, and he could more frank about it than Lycaon could. For now, Lycaon had business to take care of elsewhere in Nyhem. He went into his carriage, and took a seat upon the leather.

“Driver,” Lycaon said. “To the Grand Temple.”

The Driver asked no questions and quickly got the horses moving with a crack of the reins, and drove quickly along the bumpy roads of the city. Lycaon paid no attention to the bumps in the road, however, and mere lost himself in the thought of what his next move was be. He did not know what Duncan would do. For the time being his position seemed unassailable as King. However, he had been quite cooperative, and for Lycaon that was a good thing. Lycaon’s next move did not involve the King, however. For now, Lycaon needed to speak to the Secretary of the Grand Temple. His position not only made him an elector on his own terms, but also the closest thing to a leader of the Church during this transitional period.

He gave the driver the money he was owed to him quickly, and then Lycaon was quickly on his way. He quietly entered into the Grand Temple, which at the time was quite empty except for the caretaker-cleric inside.

“Greetings, Mother,” Lycaon said. “Is the Secretary here?”

“Greetings, Lord Lycaon,” she said. “Yes, he is here, at his desk. Would you like me to fetch him for you?”

“Yes, if you would be so kind,” Lycaon said.

So the caretaker-cleric brought Secretary Marcus Irenaeus, dressed in garish clothes and an obnoxious smile, to the front of the Temple.

“Ah, if it isn’t Lord Lycaon,” Secretary Irenaeus said. “I am told that you have some business with me? Pray tell me then, Grand Master, what is it that you seek from me?”
“Nothing too great, your excellency,” Lycaon said. “Only that with a heavy heart I must speak to you more on the tragic death of her Holiness.”

“Yes, yesterday was a great loss for all of us, indeed,” Secretary Irenaeus said. I knew her well, and she was a great friend, honorable and trustworthy. But what was it that you wished to speak to me about, Lycaon?”

“The election,” Lycaon said.

Secretary Irenaeus’ face darkened at the word, but then quickly was filled with greed.

“With her Holiness’ death, we must make it so that there is a candidate put forward that can properly replace her,” Lycaon said. “Put forward your name, your Excellency, into the conest and I will do everything I can in order to ensure that your victory is assured.”

“Then I shall,” Irenaeus said. “Thank you for your words, Lycaon, and for your declaration of support.”

“I will return later,” Lycaon said. “For now, your Excellency, there is much work to do.”

Collab with TheDuncanMorgan

[PhoenixWhite]

Naomi's Wrath: Part One

"Brother. Please explain yourself once more." Naomi's tone was that of severity and harshness, and she gazed upon Eli with a look she had, until now, spared him of; the look that Lana had received; the look that said 'You betrayed me' in some way, the look that said 'You lied to me' in some way.

Now only Beatrice and her father had been spared from that look. Not even the Dragonguard who accompanied her at times were spared from her judgement. People who had claimed to 'always be there to protect her' had failed. People who claimed 'the gods are merciful to the innocent' had failed. Those who spoke of life being better than death had even failed her, as the girl, now tasting life after a situation she considered her death, found that oblivion was a far better option than the sustained suffering of this world.

But suicide was not an option for her, no. The man standing before her, explaining his heinous crime to her, had taught her far better than that. He had taught her that failure was inexcusable, that giving up was unforgivable, and that hardship only made you stronger.

So Naomi had immediately ruled out killing herself, but had become increasingly harsh and brutal as the days wore on. She shifted Hoppers in her arms, gently making sure the bunny's comfort was as great as possible, as she settled herself in to hear her brother's words a second time.

Eli, being fortunate enough to be graced with a high level of intellect and social graces, knew his sister did not wish to hear the details of the economic agreement, and made haste in his explanation;

"You are to be married. That is all." He said the words clearly, with no anger or sympathy. It was her duty. He hated it as much as she did, but he understood its necessity. She did not grasp that concept- necessity- and he was keenly aware of it, and thusly had taken her aside like this to tell her himself.

"It will secure the alliance. Allow us to avenge you with the comfort of allies. Allow us to consolidate and grow our own power, so that no one dare to harm us like this again." His voice, much to his satisfaction, maintained its neutrality.

"I see. You married me off without my consent, or so much as asking me how I felt. Even Drevala would have done that much for me." She said critically, a scowl forming on her face. "Well, I'll have none of it!" She hissed at him. "I refuse! I'd rather we all burn than marry-"

Her tirade, only in its fledgling stages, was cut short by a simple gesture. Something that had never been done to her before. Eli had slapped her.

"Listen here, flower." Eli began, his own gaze hardening. "We all do things we don't like. We all have to suffer. Your pain, your anger, your hate? It is unrefined and crude." The man knelt down to be at eye level with Naomi. "Look into my eyes. Do it." He grabbed her face and forced the girl, startled by the pain and suddenness, to stare into his eyes as he let the calm demeanor he maintained so painstakingly to drop.

Naomi's own critical, hard, eyes, softened and widened in the weight of Eli's own powerful gaze, and she numbly reached a hand up, balancing Hoppers carefully, to rub her cheek.

"Naomi. You're not the only one who's angry. I will flay that man alive for what he's done to you, but we can't just let our emotions take control of us." He said evenly, keeping her eyes focused on his. Eli was a man full of anger and hate in his own right, and seeing these things he had crushed and condensed and refined within himself from his childhood reflected in his younger sister pained him. So he had to make this clear. As clear as he could.

"Take that anger. Take it deep inside you. Let it hide. Let it broil. Let it cool, become an edge as hard as steel rather than a fire. Then use that edge against your enemies. If you let this rage inside you, let it take control, you'll become nothing but ashes before long. Do you understand me? You have to be the one in control. I don't care if you're angry, I'm not going to do Drevala's bit and try and calm you down, I just don't want you being a stupid little girl. You're not a stupid little girl, now are you Naomi?"

She shook her head, mesmerized by his words as she often was. No, she wasn't stupid. Yes, she did understand. But he clearly didn't- and that worm of anger manifested in her mind. He couldn't be trusted. Not after this. But his lessons could be trusted. She could learn from him still. She could harbor this anger, turn it against those who betrayed her, who caused her harm. But he still couldn't be trusted. Not anymore. That worm of paranoia and anger whispered such things to her, but in the moment Eli's presence was overbearing, and she felt nothing but the respect, if diluted by her raging anger, she had always felt for her brother and his lessons.

"I understand brother. I understand." She said quietly. "I wish to go now."

"Alright." Eli said after a sigh, pulling away and putting his neutrality back up. "If you wish to discuss anything, I will always be ready to assist you."

"Of course, brother." she said, curtsying, and carrying Hoppers out of his room.

Naomi's Wrath: Part Two

After leaving her brother, Naomi made a direct path to her father. Her father, she thought, would surely understand that she couldn't be married off like this. She couldn't. It was insanity. She didn't know, let alone love the man! But her own mine rebelled at that thought as quickly as she had it- love was a lie, or at least a far rarer occurrence than she had initially thought. that bitter'ed her mind, made her rationalize it as Eli would; she didn't know the man, and it could be a danger to herself.

And so, with little speaking or interruption, Naomi found her way to her father's garden. The bleak, stone, dead garden. He was meditating within it as he often did, though the stones in the garden were now splashed with blood, and a few more weeds had sprung up in the dry dirt. Perhaps this place, she imagined, did grow with death.

She approached her father from behind, then crouched down and gently set Hoppers upon the stony ground. The bunny then proceeded to hop all about, as his name implied, and explore the garden. Naomi, for her part, did what she used to do as a small girl in the castle; she moved to sit across from her father and mimic his posture and pose. She faced him, his face stoic and hard. She gazed at him for some time, studying him.

This was her father. The man she respected and, often, obeyed without question. But as she sat here, her mind, wormed with paranoia, related this same feeling to her brother- whom she had recently concluded had betrayed her in some way. She was loathe to think it, but perhaps... Perhaps even The Old Man couldn't be trusted. She would have to test this.

"Father."

"Flower."

The immediate exchange was mechanical and rehearsed. They had done this similar thing many times before. Naomi meditating before him, questioning him, and him answering without hesitation.

"I'm to be married."

"Yes."

That made Naomi sigh and wring her hands together, then anger took over her nervousness and her hands clenched into fists.

"I do not wish it."

"I know."

His immediate response and lack of sympathizing with her made her hit her legs and hiss with frustration.

"I do not know him."

"I know."

"I may not like him."

"You will not."

"Then why?"

"Because you are a woman. A woman of this household has many responsibilities. You, my flower, have managed to miss out on many of them. Too young for the war. Too young to manage the estate. Too young to fight the dragons. You are my little girl. Will always be my little girl. However you've learned the world is harsh. The world is cruel. The only thing we can trust is death. The only thing we can trust is pain. The only thing we can trust is ourselves. Even now your are likely labelling me as a traitor, or saying I've lied to you in some way, and that is true. I have lied to you your whole life, my flower. I've told you that I will always be there to protect you. I've told you that I will keep you safe. I've been made a dishonest man by my own foolishness, and because of it you're hurting far more than you would be if I had only been honest."

All this was immediate, without so much as a hesitation between her question and his answer. Naomi scowled severely, and her hand even went to the hilt of the dirk she carried. The Old Man only smiled softly at feeling her hand shift.

"I have lied to you your whole life, kept you inside walls and protected you. You must learn to do that yourself."

"Then...F-Father... W-What is it y-you desire me to do?" Her voice was shaking with audible anger.

"Marry the man."

this response only resulted in another angry growl.

"I did not, however, say you had to stay married to him. A De Reimer losing his life is no love lost between you and I. Don't be stupid, girl."

That made Naomi pause. 'Girl'. Father never called her anything but 'Flower'. She moved her hand away from the dirk and occupied them by clenching them together into a big fist, then flexing her fingers and popping them one by one, pulling them at the joint. She did this to distract herself for a moment as she deliberated on her father's words.

"I see. Thank you father. It is nice to know you are still my ally."

"You will always be my little girl."

"May I make a request?"

"Whatever it is, it is granted."

"Thank you father."

Naomi rose up from the ground, went to find Hoppers, then made her exit.

Naomi's Wrath: Part Three

Naomi was wearing armor. This was something she had been steadily adapting to over the weeks, ever since she got out of bed from her near-death-experience. Unlike Beatrice however, Naomi only wore a breastplate. She took after her father in this way. She had found that her hand favored not the sword, nor did it favor the greater weapons such as Beatrice's. Rather, her hand found its greatest comfort in smaller weapons like the dirk she carried. So Beatrice had acquired an assortment of knives and daggers for the girl to carry if she intended to fight; her signature dirk she carried on the back of her hips, a heavier knife with a thicker blade meant for defending was kept close to her off-hand on the hip, and an assortment of lighter knives were placed at other places on her torso and upper legs. Naomi, after growing accustomed to carrying them, found she liked having them close, and liked having so many, and found that even just holding and gazing upon one of the weapons was a titillating experience for her.

But she was not standing in the training field with Beatrice now. No, she was not in that bright and familiar place at all. She was in a dark place, a damp place, a place deep below the castle she had come to know so well. This place was a dungeon. A secluded, horrible, place where criminals were kept. Some were forgotten on purpose, others by time, and others still deserved execution for their crimes.

Others, however, were more interesting to Naomi. Ones that had secrets. Ones that were to receive...secret-loosening techniques.

"It ain't erry-day we get t' princess down 'ere." The hooded man said to Naomi. "And ne'er wit such a request as yers, m'lady."

"Shut up. Stop speaking. Your idiotic speech upsets me." She said critically. The hooded man did naught but nod and move on, guiding her as she had requested. They travelled along the dark tunnels, passing cells of decrepit individuals and degraded people. Soon the hooded man stepped up to a door and, using his heavy ring of keys, opened it for her.

"'Ere you are m'lady."

"I said shut up."

And so the man did. Naomi stepped into the room. It stank of blood, piss, and defecation. It made her senses revolt, but her anger hardened. She came here for a purpose, to do as Eli said and sharpen her anger, harden it, make it into an edge. And she was also taking a lesson from her father- the only thing we can trust is death, pain, and ourselves. So she was going to learn to tell when people were lying to her. Learn to read people like Eli.

But she was going to do it her way.

There was a man, hooded- but unlike the one who had guided her here, his hood had no eyeholes. It was merely a burlap sack tied over his head. She stepped into the room.

The door behind her closed.

And she let out a sigh. The man jerked, for some reason she could not yet tell, at her simple exhalation of air- though he did not go far, due to his hands and feet being bound to the far wall with chains.

"I will be your new partner." She said softly, delicately. "I hear you were a thief. Who buried their treasures. And that the people you stole from want their things back...quite a bit."

"A girl?" He laughed, full of derision, from within his hood. "They think a girl can make me talk?"

Naomi didn't speak further, merely gazed around the room. What she saw mesmerized her. Tools. So many tools. So many things far more specific and useful than the knives she had intended to use. But one thing in particular made her stop and lick her lips. Titillation was the only word that could truly apply, the same titillation she got from gazing at her knives. She walked over and picked the tool up from the bloodied table it rested, grabbing its handle and letting it uncoil down to the floor.

A whip.

As she held it in her hand, she felt herself smile.

"Pain." She said after a while, letting the feel of the whip rest in her hand. "Is only the beginning. Death is my good friend, and he'll let me know your secrets after I'm done."

-------------

Naomi walked out of the room roughly an hour later. She had coiled the whip, now somewhat bloody, back up and hooked it onto her belt. She looked at the hooded man who had waited outside the door and had a blank visage.

"He's dead. I pushed him too hard." she said to him. He nodded, refusing to speak after her adamant declaration for him to shut up, but didn't seem upset with her. Rather, understanding. Someone new to torture often pushes people too far.

"And I'm keeping the whip."

Naomi's Calming

With her newfound hobby, she had done as he father and brother have instructed. She had stopped being stupid, found a way to refine her anger and hatred, and a way to stop lashing out at others. She has unmistakably changed, but is no longer the volatile, angry, woman she has been in recent time. She harbors, and will continue to harbor, intense hatred for all that the church stands for, seeing it as the greatest lie in Formaroth, and in her practices with torture and pain she has begun to learn to tell when people are lying to her, though this is twisted in her mind by the pervasive and overbearing paranoia that has become a part of her psyche.

But she internalizes most of it. She's still angry. Still vengeful. Still full of hate, but as she found an outlet for it all, all that's left inside her has been cooling down, and she has been hardening it into steel as her brother recommended. Naomi Blackwell has a knack for torture, and a soul of fire that has been lit by powers beyond her comprehension.

Her cooling has been welcomed by Eli, who has resumed her education at her behest. She desires to learn as much of the De Reimer family as she can in as short of a time as she can, so as to learn of her future husband and his family.

Her cooling has been welcomed by Beatrice, who has noted a marked increase in her combative capabilities once she stopped being driven solely by anger.

Drevala, however, finds that this sort of sudden calming is a confusing thing. She wants the little girl she helped raise back, but all she has now is a hard and cold woman. A woman, Drevala finds, reminds her too much of her father. She only hopes that she can, with her steady and gentle hand, continue guiding Naomi back towards kindness and, in Drevala's mind, innocence. However, the rest of the world would call this 'Naiveté'.

It took but a time nearing a few months for the girl to go from being bedridden and dying, to being angry and vengeful, to steadily becoming cold and hard. A woman of iron, if unrefined and untested, in the making.

[Klomster]

Collab thanks.

A collab between me and Andrew.

Claus was walking down into the city itself with marching steps, it went fast. Very fast.
He was clothed in only tunic and other simple garb, one of his soldiers didn't even recognize him when he slammed open the doors to an inn with a broad smirk on his face.

-"Meeting. NOW!!!" He roared and the voice gripped the men of the steel fist by the marrow casting them into action and even some of the locals instinctively listened more carefully and turned their heads.
Within seconds the centre area had been cleared with several tables moved together to make a grand table, on the short edge closest to the bar Claus began sitting down, only during his descent was the chair put in place and Claus assumed his crossed legs upon the table pose.

-"Get the lieutenants, and where is Katrina?" His voice booming out, in short he was met with the young womans voice.

-"Right here... sir." She momentarily forgot addressing his rank, not used to the shock meetings. She kept on.
-"What do you need?" She asked confusedly while Claus pointed to a seat on his left.

-"Sit. I want to know how bad our losses were, i've been in a fever in the castle and haven't really been up to speed just lately." Claus asked while Katrina sat down at her designated position.

She was visibly stumped, but with a short gasp and mouth movement more reminiscent of a fish than a human she gave the answer.
-"We have taken some casualties, some of the men who are within the inns have minor injuries and sadly a few passed away. My most recent counting is one thousand four hundred and five men. One thousand and ninety-three missing or killed." Claus looked obviously troubled but simply stroked his chin once.

-"Thank you, i am gonna assume at least some of those are captured by Andrew. Which hopefully is a good thing." Claus just sat there and looked at some seemingly invisible thing in front of him, completely focused.
While a few of the lieutenants arrived and were seated, Katrina couldn't help but wonder how it could be a good thing.

-"Um, sir... how could it be a good thing?" Katrina's sheepish question was seemingly lost in the noise, or Claus didn't bother.
-"Sir! How!?" She yelled. This woke Claus from his pondering and she looked at her with an expression resembling disgust before smirking.

-"How you ask? For the first step they are alive, which obviously is a good thing. Secondly, i bear good news, which i will get back to. Third, only an idiot gets rid of prisoners of war. Since they are worth a lot of money for both sides, for their employers because they want them back and their foes for exactly the same reason." Claus explained.

Katrina was satisfied with the answer, nothing of note happened the following couple of minutes while the last of the lieutenants gathered.

-"Where's Stan!?" Claus yelled angrily, mentally preparing to scold him for negligence. He was met with a short silence before the bearded Roogel answered with a slightly gloomy voice.
-"He's... dead sir."
Claus stared at Roogel with a stern confused and grumpy face, before violently yelling.
-"Sheeps furry balls!!!.... I liked Stan!.... Damn!..." He sort of refused to acknowledge the truth of it but didn't seem saddened by it. He'd lost friends before. He was used to delay emotions.

-"Well, that means we're all here. I have at least some good news, several in fact!" He began explaining with an annoyed voice.
-"I've received a letter from the king's fancy brother, the Patrick fellow. He has given me the task of making a prisoner exchange, which means we'll get back our imprisoned lads for free... i would have paid for their release anyway, but i'm up for any good news i can get right now." He drank a trio of large gulps from a tankard set beside him before continuing.

-"We're also to be reinforced, so we are to defend this little lot until they arrive. Lead by Patrick himself it seemed, he wants to feel all important it seems..." His joke lost in the mood.
-"So, i will move out, i'll bring with me ten or so of the vanguard and go speak to Andrew. Katrina! You will begin with the numbers to get this cities defence to the maximum. While Roogel will begin with troop stationing until i return." The captain went on while standing up, first on his chair then on the table.

-"But, some of the best news of all... you know Orland Tuania!?" He yelled, in answer he got a few disgruntled words, a few angry curses and a genuine boo.
-"I have had a 'discussion' with him in the castle... and i commended him.... PROPERLY! On his actions!" On properly he emulated how he kicked Orland followed by violently stomping down with his right foot. The answer was a short cheer from the gathered troops.
Claus kept going.
-"Now get going men! I will drink the final toast with the fallen later." With that, he marched along the table and jumped down on the opposite short side while his men scattered to begin their various tasks.
As from nowhere ten of his best troops in full battle gear joined up with him and began marching back to the castle, in formation.

The castle guards began to stop the congregation from entering the castle, but Claus didn't stop until he almost walked right into a outstretched halberd.
-"I am entering, regardless if you WANT, or not." On want he violently grabbed the shaft of the weapon with his left hand and pushed it upwards, the guard panicked as the other Steel fist soldiers formed a battle line with a singular motion.

-"You are to... pay for your crime.. against the lord..." The leader of the small gate force stuttered, before dropping his weapon Claus was holding as the scarred mercenary closed the distance.
-"Down them." Claus ordered, with but a few well placed strikes and hooking maneuvers, the gatekeepers were knocked out or wincing on the ground. The group kept going as Claus simply discarded the halberd.

Upon the castle yard, the lord and lady Tuania had gathered a whole bunch of troops, surrounding Claus and his group. This didn't halt Claus though as he closed distance with the noble pair. Raising his fist, the mercenaries under his command formed a hedgehog while Claus walked several steps further and standing face to face with the couple, with only about twenty soldiers directly between them and him.

-"So what could you possibly say which could save you from the noose!?" Cathryn asked with a stern voice while Grandin stood beside her with a smug look on his face.
-"That you cannot go against the orders of the imperial concord!" Claus said loudly with a smirk while whipping out the letter he received earlier.
-"What!? That's absurd, what are you talking about?" Cathryn spat out with a spiteful voice. But was halted when Claus boomed out a section from the letter while holding it in front of him like a town crier.
-"I quote, You are to order both the Imperial and Tunia's army to rendezvous with me while you and your mercenaries hold Clarm. You are to hold the stronghold till my forces arrive.... signed... Patrick De Reimer!" Claus was grinning deviously right now. He liked a good power play now and again.
Grandin was in shock, Cathryn was gasping before speaking.
-"NO! That cannot be true, i..." But was interrupted by Claus.
-"You can see the letter yourself if you want, and don't even think about just capturing me anyway or any other trickery, since our good lord Patrick is expecting me to perform my duty in the fullest. Since you don't want to be the ones who went against the orders of the concord!" He began walking forward, holding out the letter to a soldier.
As the soldier took the letter and walked with it to Cathryn, Claus began walking towards the door into the castle.

-"I will get my gear, then i shall talk with Andrew regarding the prisoner exchange, you will let me do this." Claus spoke while gesturing with his right hand.
Cathryn was furious, and it was with anger she ordered her troops to stand down.
Claus just chuckled with a menacing glee as the troops parted as he walked.

He readied his armour and left the city and set off to meet with Andrew. Flying the banner of parlay.

Andrew was walking through the camp. He wanted to see how his soldiers were coping with the aftermath of the battle. As he walked he thought back to his conversation with Lord Humber about the results of the battle. Overall the battle was a success, they had captured a fair amount of enemy soldiers but the combined armies took some losses, the Mansrew army suffered the worse but Andrew knew that the losses were acceptable enough that the overall force would still be able to put up a fight if Klaus' forces had any second thoughts. As he passed each soldier gave him a nod or would say "Lord Andrew" to him. For once in this miserable war Andrew felt that he could relax for a bit, he was surrounded by his brothers at arms and there was a glimmer of light of that this war could reach its end.

As Andrew continued to walk through the camp Maror Lanistark approached him. "Lord Andrew."
"Ah Maror, how are you and your sister doing?" replied Andrew who was happy to him.
"We're doing well, we lost a few soldiers during the battle but it's nothing to worry about. Everyone of us is still ready for combat."
"That's good to know" said Andrew who was happy to hear the eagerness in Maror's voice. It reminded him of himself back in his more youthful days. "Is there anything you wanted to ask me Maror?"
"Yes there is, I was just curious with what you were planning on doing with the prisoners that we captured?"
Andrew seem a bit confused in what Maror had asked him but indulged in the question. "Well I've ordered all the army medics to start mending the prisoners after they've helped our own men and at some point the enemy will want to negotiate their safe return."
Maror seemed displeased with Andrew's answer "But surely it would be easier to get rid of them and wipe their filth from the face of the earth! They're a waste of medical and food resources and if the tables were turned would they do the same for us."
Andrew sternly responded "And that's the point! We're not them! If we killed them we're no than them! Those prisoners are to be treated as if they are one of our own!" Andrew took a breath to calm himself down. He didn't mean to lash out at Maror, this was his first time fighting along side Andrew and was not used to his ways. "Besides." said Andrew "If we keep them alive we'll be able to haggle for coin and gain respect from the enemy."

As he said this one of Andrew's soldiers was running towards the both of them shouting "My Lord! My Lord!"
"What is it soldier?" replied Andrew.
"The enemy commander is approaching the camp."
"Alone? said Maror.
"No, Lord Lanistark. He has some of his guards accompanying him. They're flying the banner of parley."
"He's come to negotiate. Soldier, I want you to gather up ten of my elite guard to accompany me to meet him."
"Of course!" the soldier ran further into the camp.
Andrew started to head outside of the camp and that's when he saw Klaus. Andrew took a deep breath and started to head towards him and his group.

Claus had marched for a long time, thankfully he had avoided blisters this time.
The swaying banners of the Manshrew alliance was strangely a welcome sight, something that didn't feel really right with the circumstances.
Last time the swaying banners of Manshrew and Lanistark had symbolised impending doom and death, now it was something that was a welcome sight.
He shook his head slightly for himself.

When Claus and his retinue had almost reached the camp, the guards stepped forth both to stop him but also to make way for the small procession that was formed around Andrew, rather small though with just a few bodyguards and a scribe.

The sight was in a way a let down as well as a positive surprise, as Claus gestured with his arms and loudly spoke.
-"It seems my ploy failed to kill you during the battle, i suppose the gods favored you alive. Perhaps so that i could talk with someone of importance during this negotiation!"
Claus's telltale smirk was as ever on his face, a crude joke about failing to kill another man proving that mercenaries tend to get a more cynical view of life and death.
He followed this with a hearty nod of the head, something that was to replace a proper greeting for a lord. His manners ever so crude.

With a few more steps Andrew got to a comfortable speaking distance and responded.
-"I see that you made it out from the battle in one piece as well." It was here he saw Claus's yellowish bruise on his cheek. He kept going.
-"It appears i still got the hang of battle, my throwing arm does not seem to be any weaker than during the last war."

Claus was a bit surprised, a bit of banter from one of the fancy lords. It was too bad this one was an enemy.
-"I gotta commend you, i've never been struck that good in many years. Your age doesn't seem to slow you down a single bit." Claus said with a gleaming smile, in honestly he didn't look pretty at all with that scar, bruise and slightly swollen lip.

-"I am also impressed by how you managed to hide all the elephants from me, i don't expect you to tell me how you did it though. A true artist never reveals his secrets." He kept going, closed with Andrew and held out a hand for shaking, which Andrew responded in kind.
-"Partly i don't want to face your forces in battle again, partly i feel like i didn't get a good run back there with that idiot....." Claus began to speak but halted himself after straying into things he should be avoided right now.

Andrew however seemingly ignored what he said or already knew. Regardless the hiccup did not seem to bother him and spoke.
-"I am likewise inclined to commend your effort in the battle. Facing an army twice of that of your own and walking away with anything at all. Far from all can put that on a resumé." Claus was relieved, he didn't consider that Andrew might know of the problems within his command structure and was content with just dodging the topic all together.

Claus and Andrew studied the other for a short while, trying to figure out the other before Andrew spoke.
-"I understand that you probably didn't come here just to give praise to my efforts in the battle, what is your business?" Claus gave an expression of disappointment but quickly returned to his regular expression.
-"Ah yes, business. You are a busy man and probably don't have time to banter all day. I don't envy you." Claus spoke before going on.
-"I am here to negotiate the return of the captured forces belonging to the Imperial concord, however more importantly for me i am here to get my own boys back in my company." The captain spoke with a lot more seriousness than usual.

-"Then i suggest a simple 25 bronze pieces a head, they have been given food and medical care, hence why i demand such a sum." Andrew was too the point, Something Claus appreciated.
-"Done! The prisoners are to be left to return to Clarm without being hounded by your forces. I also want to directly take command over any steel fist men whom have been imprisoned."
Andrews scribe seemed surprised of Claus immediate answer but wrote it down after looking quizzically at the two negotiators.

-"Very well, I will make sure your men are delivered to you immediately. I have to admire the concern you have over your men. It's nice to know that one of my enemies respects his men as he respects himself." Andrew said with a serious tone. He was adamant in his decision.
-"Very well, that seems to take care of the business part." Claus exclaimed, he was happy with Andrews answer. He then went on.
-"However, there is the fact that i myself do not have the required sum, since it will be paid for by Patrik De Reimer. I will make sure the decision is sent to him immediately though."

-"I understand. I expect that De Reimer will keep his end of your deal and I expect that both you and him will deliver the money to me personally. Also when he does arrive I expect you both to arrive within the day of his arrival and don't worry we'll know if he arrives." Andrew responded.

-"I shall send out a courier to Patrick with that message as soon as i leave this place." Claus responded to Andrews demand, being really relieved with him being so reasonable. Claus then pointed at the scribe.
-"And you are going to write that." The scribe was a mix of panicked and confused, not expecting to being approached specifically but calmed down after seeing Andrews calm posture.

-"Oh, and i think it is about here we seal the deal." Claus said with a strong smirk offering another handshake, which Andrew accepted.
It was a strong hearty handshake, Claus felt he had gotten a fantastic deal overall, and Andrew looked rather pleased as well. Not that Claus was particularly good at reading faces.

-"It is too bad that we ended up on different sides in this conflict, it would be good to have someone more who cared for his men at my side." Andrew said as he let his hand go, to which Claus responded.
-"Yeah, you seem like a decent fellow yourself. Too bad you're my enemy in this one." He actually considered saying screw it all and go fight for the Manshrew alliance for a moment, since it meant he'd have a proper excuse to hang the Tuania boy from their highest spire. he smiled at the thought and faced Andrew once more with a genuine smirk.
-"Perhaps in the next war?"

Andrew then excused himself and returned inside his encampment, while Claus waited outside. Not before long he had a written note to lord De Reimer and the prisoners from the steel fist was marching out in orderly fashion. But instead of flying all banners high, they only had a select few, barely showing that they were the steel fist.

Andrew looked from a guard tower as the former prisoners marched out from his encampment, arms crossed, studying their movements and posture from afar. As he saw two men break off from the main column he knew that Claus had sent out couriers as he promised, with that he returned to his generals tent.
Enough pause for today, he had a war to win, and that meant meticulous planning and strategy, logistics and tactics. This wasn't going to be an easy fight, but he knew that it was a fight he needed to win.
If not only to be able to uphold his promise to his family, but also to free the people of Formaroth.

[ZB1996]

The Sermon

In all her years Johannia had faithfully served the church, and had served the gods with dutifulness and piety. Yet in all the years of her life, whenever she looked up at the Church above, with its bishops and High Priests and Grand Clerics, she saw nothing but shame and disappointment. Nay, such words were not strong enough to describe what she had seen when she looked into the so-called holy Church. She had always dedicated herself to piety and contemplation of the divine, but when she looked up to the divine seat for inspiration, she only ever saw voluptuaries there. This Johannia found to be quite a shame. It was so much of a shame that Johannia could no longer allow it to go continuing on without a challenge or objection from anyone. And so this was what brought Johannia away from her university study, where she was most comfortable, and brought her into the streets among the people. She disliked being in public, but she took comfort in the fact that it was here, and nowhere else, that genuine piety lay. So she now stood up a tall white platform, walking up the dirtied white steps, in her flowing robe of blue and white, and began to preach, for this was where preachers came. She was not one of the great preachers of her day, but she knew she could express the ideas that was needed in this age better than any other.

“We have come here not to engage in the lascivious and shameful inequities which all men and women city must, in their burden, be forced to witness in any and all days. Indeed, that is not what we are here to witness, but rather we are here to witness in the spirit of God¹ that innate goodness which all know to be within us, and through knowledge to bring it out. So, O people, in order for that ineffable but most desirous thing called the Good to be brought out into us we must dedicate ourselves to virtue, that most exalted of words. And so to follow virtue we must follow the great example of the saints, the prophets, and the mightiest of all, the great gods. So follow the advice and the example of Saint Elenor², Saint Zedaiya³, Saint Augur⁴, Saint Zacarias⁵, and all the great men who the gods have smiled upon and have gifted with the ecstasies of Providence.

“Such is the greatness and glories of the Church gifted to man by the God. We are to follow the example of the Church, which follows the example of Those Who Lead Man. Yet there is one Church of the sheep – of those who in service to goodness and virtue follow the true ways – and another Church of the goats – of those who are reprobates. Those who follow the virtues are of the sheep, and shall be rewarded in the hereafter, and those who are of the goat shall be retained in this world in a vicious cycle, returning again and again to this sinful and painful world until they have become sheep. On Earth we see but one Church, for in truth we all hide our wrongdoings from the world in the guise of being good men, but when we stand before the Three Judges the good shall be separated from the bad, as is written by Saint Augur, who says, ‘And verily there are two classes who the Three Judges shall cast their eyes on, and one shall receive the fruit, and another the fire.’

“Yet if indeed there is any such a way of coming to know who are the reprobates among us, then that way shall be looking deep into the actions of these men and women, ones who call themselves holy and just and virtuous, and see whether their words speak true to the actions we know them to commit, or whether their deeds reveal them to be vicious and licentious souls who ought to be reviled. If it is true that their souls are base and that of reprobates, then we ought not to praise and follow them, but to turn away from them, chide them with firm tongues and hot irons alike, and run them out of our churches and into the jailhouse. One must not say that the Church is synonymous with the Grand Cleric, or the Bishops, for, as the prophet Galaius6 said, ‘Heed not the inane voices of the priests who harbor the heart of the sinner.’ For if they were they would not fallen so, for, as Saint Elenor sung, ‘Follow the Church ever incorruptible,’ and what is incorruptible cannot be corrupted, and cannot fall into sin. But indeed we have seen the Bishops and the Grand Clerics and High Priests above fall into sin, for it is in the knowledge of the many that they commit simony, usury, engage in debaucheries too numerous naming, and prefer gold and silver to the gods and to piety. There are three definitions to this word, church. When the faithful gather, that is a church. That great body whom all consider themselves a member of, whom both sheep and goats are shaded by in times of distress, that is a Church, and it is a Church much in need of a cleansing, and there is a third Church, the Church of all virtuous believers, and it ought to be the goal of all to make the second and third definition as close as can be on this earth.”

And the sermon continued, and as it continued more and more flocked to her. They were not attracted, like they were by other preachers, or by Lycaon, by the elegance and luster of her phrasing or of the power of her voice, for which Johannia said. Rather, what attracted them were the words themselves, or rather, it was their meaning. How long had it been since that supposedly Holy Church had led them astray, had committed unholy and lascivious deeds behind closed doors while they preached of purity of both body and soul, and had cared for nothing but the accumulation of gold and riches? None could remember truly a day when they could say with full honesty that everything was alright in the Church, save for when they were young, childlike, and naïve. So to see a preacher speaking out against corruption was attractive indeed.

1. God here is not meant here in the strictly monotheist sense. Rather, it is signifying the general notion of deity and divineness. Nonetheless, such a term does, in the eyes of the Church, imply an uncomfortable tendency towards monotheism.

2. Patron saint of poets, passive virtue, and riddles. She wrote a philosophical work which was filled with difficult, riddle-like aphorisms which allowed varying interpretation. Her religious significance, however, depends on her virtuous life and her outspokenness in favor of the religion, as well as her role in getting the worship of Giphine, Hizreus, and Hystix condemned.

3. The Patron saint of writers, archivists, and librarians. He is the main theologian of the Church, having written numerous tracts, letters, and polemics on the subject. Additionally, he was an ascetic.

4. Patron saints of the persecuted and the poor. He is an important prophet, having written four holy books, which were somewhat vague in the exactness of their content, forcing extensive exegesis.

5. Patron saint of warriors, priests, active virtue, and justice. He was both a wonderworker and hero, who not only slew great monsters with his sword and his strength, but also resurrected the dead and made fire rain from the sky.

6. Semi-legendary prophet, mystic, and saint who has attributed to him 12 speeches, 33 hymns, and 25 poems, widely respected among the faithful as a man chosen by the gods to instruct mankind in theology and morality. He was said to often be in a state of religious ecstasy.

Lycaon Discovers the Preacher

Lycaon was finally at home for the day, at his estate, but that did mean that he was allowed to take a break. Though he was sitting comfortably on a wooden chair cushioned with silk purple cushion, he was sitting across Sir Daeleth, who was standing, and their conversation was strictly business. They were speaking of how to gather up his army, which the King had already agreed to the commission of. They certainly had the resources to inevitably gather it us, but there was the problem of logistics. It would be no long-term problem, but in the short term it resulted in a nightmare of micromanaging. Felise of Dagensbourg, Lycaon’s beloved wife, walked in with a dress, simple yet noble, golden in color, and had her favored servant, Anastasia, at her side. Felise gave a polite curtsy, while Anastasia gave a deeper one, as one only proper for a servant.

“Greetings, Sir Daeleth,” Felise said.

“Oh,” Sir Daeleth said. “Thank you, milady. But there’s no need for you, milady, to boy to someone like me.”

“Nonsense, Sir Daeleth,” Felise said. “You’re my husband’s honored guest, and deserve to be treated as such.”

They would not be able to enjoy civil conversation for long, however. Tydeus came storming into the room, Lycaon’s guards so wary and weary of him that they came trailing behind with him, only a step away from grabbing him by his arms and throwing him out.

“Tydeus!” Lycaon said. “What are you doing here? I mean, Tydeus, what brings you here?”

“I dread to disturb you, my lord,” Tydeus said. “But I must inform you of the terrible outbreak of heresy that has just occurred!”

“Heresy?” Lycaon said. “The local religious authorities can deal with that, wherever it happened.

“This time, my lord, you are the local religious authorities,” Tydeus said. “It is this woman, Johannia of Telmarion. As a scholar of the matters of the holy texts and the prophets and saints there are few better, but she has always had a problem. She is one of those who is always letting their mind get their better of them, always skirting the path between heresy and orthodoxy, and always getting a good proverbial beating from the authorities in return. Those sorts are not bad insofar as they are themselves, for the Church always finds a proper use for their innovations, once steered in the right path, but now Johannia has gone too far. Just an hour ago, she was discovered saying that the Church of the Sheep was the Church of Reprobates, that said Church of Reprobates included most of the sitting clergy, and consequently that they ought not to be followed. Further, she was uttering the heresy that the Church was not the bishops and their head, but the whole of believers. And it easily follows that she shall do away with the whole thing. And that does not even mention the monotheism which she is infecting people throughout the city with. And there are other issues as well.”

Lycaon looked to Felise. This was not the time to time to discuss such things. Felise was a gentle soul, who could not understand what was necessary to do in order for justice to be done. Such were the thoughts of Lycaon.

“You know what must be done,” Lycaon said. “And as long as she has no movement around her, she will no longer be a problem.”

“But, my lord, she may have a movement after all.” Tydeus said. “For she has already started preaching before the multitude, and received like no other preacher has been received in recent time.”

Even himself? If this woman had really already become effectively a heresiarch, that would indeed a problem for the Church. Most knew that in fact the Holy Church was not holy at all, and Lycaon knew many among the masses would gladly follow anyone who based a theology against such corruption. Lycaon knew that though some heresies fizzled out quickly, it was very possible for it to spread rapidly into a wildfire from a single spark. If Lycaon wanted to stop this, he would have to act quickly, decisively, and carefully. Yet whatever the case, Lycaon knew that the Church could not merely ignore this. The Church needed a change, and Lycaon would not stand idly by as it rotted.

“No matter,” Lycaon said. “Tydeus, if I remember correctly, there are three bishops within the city at the moment. I shall have them gathered, and we shall have this theologian’s propositions condemned, and have her summoned before us. Then the trial of a heretic shall begin.”

“I agree with you wholeheartedly,” Tydeus said. “But will not this make her but a martyr in the eyes of the people?”

“Whatever will be may be,” Lycaon said. “And free, a heretic is far more dangerous.”

“You’re leaving, dear?” Felise said.

“I must,” Lycaon said.

“And this woman,” Felise said. “You’ll kill her.”

“If she does not repent,” Lycaon said. “Then that is all I can do for her. Unrepelled and unchained, a heretic is a virus, which spreads from person to person, and summons up the forces of damnation on ever more people.”

“And you’ll kill her,” Felise said. “Even though she is flesh and blood and soul, the same as the two of us.”

“If that is what is necessary in order for the good to be served,” Lycaon said.

Johannia is Condemned, Rough Draft

Lycaon sat among the fine and tall wooden chairs of the Bishops, in the chambers of the Council of the Synod¹, and had the company of several of these bishops, along with a couple of others who were not bishops, but were churchmen who were of high and respected standing in their deeds if not in their ranks. Tydeus was there, and he was a respected theologian to be sure, but it was in ecclesial matters where he was considered to be an authority, though no one doubted his knowledge of systematic theology. The other theologian here certainly was not doubted in his knowledge of systematic theology. Her name was Bernarda Avicebrol of Yannis, a theologian, popular with the highest echelons of the ecclesial authorities for her ability, but hated for her puritanical and pure personality. She never shirked from making clear her outrage when she saw anyone stepping out of line with what she saw as the firmly orthodox, and had gotten not one, but two of the most prominent philosophers of her day to recant some of their doctrines under the threat of excommunication.

Otherwise, there were a mere three bishops here, but that could only be expected. The order to come to the capital had come but recently. These few had come in order to condemn the propositions which Mother Johannia had declared in her recent sermon. Though they were ostensibly supposed to debate the merits and faults of the propositions which could be drawn from it, no one here was debating that what she had said was heretical. Now all they had to figure out was what she had said and officially condemn it in letter. It would not be much of a condemnation with the few that were here, but it would have to do, and if it would not, Lycaon would make it do. Of the three bishops here, one of them was Bishop Irenaeus, the very one Lycaon hoped would become High Priest. Secondly, there was Bishop Karyn, a disheveled, unkempt, and shy woman who despised responsibility, and much preferred writing poems. They always were obscure, opaque, celestial poems which somehow were extraordinarily popular with the burghers. Thirdly was Bishop Marko, a levelheaded man who was just the right amount of corrupt to be both efficient and morally deplorable, who possessed many skills in a moderate degree, one of which was lucid penmanship, which was why he was the one who held the quill against the parchment, and not Karyn, who wrote often but whose handwriting was stylish and messy. This would be a very sober council, free from any silliness or unnecessary strife. And so they talked and talked, discussing in a roundabout way, until at last they were agreed on what was to be said, and Marko wrote it down. After some thirty minutes they were just about finished.

“Do not forget her condemnations of the mages,” Lycaon said. “Johannia says they are of the devil, and sorcerers of wickedness. Yet such utterances are nothing but heresy.”

“Actually, I quite like that proposition,” Bishop Marko said. “And I would this heretic to be orthodox at least on that count.”

“It is from the gods that the mages are bestowed their gifts,” Lycaon said.

“Let it drop, Lycaon,” Bernarda said. “The mages are a troublesome, impious lot, who ought to receive the lash far more than they do. The current propositions will suffice.”

“No, I must disagree,” Lycaon said. “I must be on my way, regrettably, though I am gladdened of our work here. So add that final proposition, honored Bishop Marko, and all will be well.”

1. A place where the Bishops meet to pronounce important decisions.

The Propositions

The Holy Church, with the authority bestowed upon us by the gods, hereby denounce the propositions put forth by Mother Johannia of Telmarion as heretical. Mother Johannia of Telmarion is to be summoned at once to the capital, where she is to defend herself of the charges of heresy, the punishment for such a crime being death by burning at the stake. The propositions put forth are:

1. That there is a One God, above the traditional deities in form and stature.

2. That the gods are merely an abstract Intellect.

3. Denying the practice of Indulgences, which has previously been defending in a Church Bull by High Priest Marus.

4. Denying the authority of the sitting High Priest or Grand Cleric.

5. Denying the authority of the sitting Bishops.

6. Denying the oneness of the Church.

7. Denying the purity of the Church.

8. Condemning magic-users as of the Devil.

Signed,

Marcus Irenaeus, Bishop of North Nyhem

Robertus Marko, Bishop of South Nyhem

Arianna Karyn, Bishop of Fishgrove

Johannia is Condemned, Final Draft

Lycaon was actually surprised how little resistance Johannia had actually put up. The Church authorities had called Johannia to the Council of the Synod, where she was to defend herself against the accusation of heresy, and she did not run, as Lycaon had seen some others do. Perhaps she still had some faith in the system she had so strongly condemned. Perhaps she wished to become a martyr. Whatever the case, Johannia arrived in her priestly garments of blue and white, having a somewhat uneasy expression on her face, but nonetheless still brimming with confidence. Lycaon stood in the center, on a tall wooden chair, while the others were, the Bishops Irenaeus, Marko, and Karyn, as well as the theologians Tydeus and Bernarda. Lycaon was to serve as the overseer of this hearing, but it would be the clergy who voted to condemn this Johannia.

“Mother Johannia of Telmarion,” Lycaon said. “This Council currently has condemned the heretical propositions, eight in number, which you have been accused of holding. What say you?”
“Lord Lycaon, I know you are a good man,” Johannia said. “And a just and pious follower of the gods. Take a look at what you are doing, and what you are condemning, and ask yourself whether this is what the gods would truly want.”

“This hearing is of no such things,” Lycaon said. “Answer, Mother, of the previous question concerning these heretical propositions.”

“Very well, Lord Lycaon. I have seen propositions of mine that you have condemned as heretical,” Johannia said. “But it is still unclear under what authority they have been condemned. Well, what I mean to say, Lord Lycaon, is that perhaps you should be defending the accusation of heresy against me rather having me defend myself of heresy. The burden of proof, then, would be on the Council.”

“The heresy within your words are palpable, Lycaon,” Bernarda said. “And I cannot react but with disgust at both the sentiment and the literal meaning of the words with equal revulsion. Whereas the Book of the founder states ‘The Church is the way evermore,’ you state unequivocally anticlericalism, which brings about the death of the soul.”

“Mother Bernarda,” Johannia said. “I have always respected you. You have long tired to bring erroring men and women into error, especially those of the philosophers and dialecticians, who favor reason about the supreme matters of faith. And you are truly pious in your convictions, unlike many who claim the title of clergyman.”

“Well, I cannot say the same,” Bernarda said. “In the past I remember how closely you resembled to be a heretic, and it was then that I knew you to have a soul a heretic. And so I am not surprised that you have decided to abandon the Church in favor of the self-aggrandizement of yourself. Such actions disgust me, and I shall gladly partake in your destruction. You condemn sophistically the philosophers and dialectians, yet every one of your doctrines in your vulgar metaphysics you vilely gave in your meager sermon to the impious rabble can be traced back to the worthless speculative meanderings of those sophists who go by the name of ‘philosophers.’”

“Thank you, Mother Bernarda” Lycaon said. “Mother Johannia, the definition of Orthodoxy was defined at the Synod. Would you affirm such?”

“Nay,” Johannia said. “The only orthodoxy which can be affirmed is that which is written in the book of the prophets, not in the encyclicals of lesser men and women. If it were not so, it is not conceivable that those prophets and saints we deem most holy could possibly be orthodox, for the knowledge attained by revelation could be attained independently of revelation.”

Lycaon said. “And would you affirm that the sitting High Priest or Grand Cleric, a currently vacant, is the head and ruling body in the Church.”

“No, I would not affirm such a thing,” Johannia said. “For they are but a single bishop of many among the Church, whose authority is not like that of a King over the Church. Nor is his or her character promised simply by their position. It is clear from ecclesiastical history that there was no superiority in the earliest days. I only ask that the Church once again return to its purest, original state.”

Lycaon said. “And you would agree that you have condemned Indulgences.”

“Yes,” Johannia said. “It is a most vile and unholy practice.”

“Yet it has been defended in the Bulls of a previous High Priest, High Priest Marus,” Lycaon said. “In the Year 448.”

“I have made my opinion clear already of such men,” Johannia said. “And also my reasonings for declining their authority.”

“Very well,” Lycaon said. “I think we here have heard quite enough.”

“What?” Johannia said. “That is all? This is the Church’s rule of law?”

“Yes,” Lycaon said. “We have more than enough information now to accurately discern your guilt or innocence, and so we shall. Now we shall bring it to a vote. Do the sitting authorities hereby declare Mother Johannia is guilty of heresy? Answer yea or nay.”

“Yea,” Bishop Irenaeus said.

“Yea,” Bishop Marko said.

“Yea,” Bishop Karyn said.

“Yea!” Bernarda said.

“Yea,” Tydeus said.

“And by a vote of five to zero, you are henceforth condemned with heresy,” Lycaon said. “Mother Johannia, you now have time repent. You may renounce your heretical doctrines and be given a less severe sentence, and your place in paradise kept, if you so choose.”

“I know what it is that the gods wish for,” Johannia said. “Even if you do not.”

“Very well,” Lycaon said. “Again, we shall bring it to a vote. Who votes to have her burned at the stake? Say yea or nay.”

“Yea,” Bishop Marko said.

“Yea!” Bernarda said.

“Nay,” Tydeus said.

“Nay,” Bishop Karyn said.

“Yea,” Bishop Irenaeus said.

“And so at a vote of three for and two against,” Lycaon said. “Mother Johannia, with the power invested to me by this court, I hereby strip you of your clerical ranks and declare you to be a heretic.”

“No, wait! This is something that should be decided in a few short moments,” Johannia said. “Allow me to put my case before the new High Priest or Grand Cleric. I have only declared what is true.”

“Your request is denied,” Lycaon said.

“Lycaon, I know you are a good man!” Johannia said. “Unlike the others within this Church, you have gone before the people, and you are purer than those bishop whose presence you now share!”

Yet Lycaon was silent. Johannia tried to resist, but the guards behind her leapt on to her, and pushed her down to the ground, and held her down. Then they delivered on to her an ironic crown. It was a burning metal cap, labelled “Heresiarch” in big, bold letters. Ss the guards put it on to her head the heat of it seared her skin, and she screamed. Then the guards began to carry her out, pulling her up, for at the moment she could barely stand, as was barely consciousness. Then the others began to leave, Bishop Karyn being the first to.

The Carriage

Johannia was being drawn by the hand of the guards around her. She knew where they were taking her. She would be given an ignomious death, tied to a stake, or perhaps nailed, and then the fire would be lighted, and she would be burned, and her body would be slowly consumed by flames. It was not the death which she desired, but if this was the will of the gods then Johannia could only accept it with what grace she could.

She saw the stake, as the guards dragged her up, but the next thing she saw was of a very different sort. There men with swords that came from every side, and they assaulted the guards which had held Johannia against her will. Soon Johannia was freed from the grasp of those guards, and the din and clanking and the bloodshed of war unleashed in front of her. Then she felt a grasp over her hand again, but it was not an aggressive, overbearing, chaining grasp like those the guards had done.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mother Johannia,” said the woman clothed in plate armor. “If you don’t mind, we’ve got to get going.”

“If it leads to me avoiding the stake,” Johannia said. “I’m all for it.”

And so this soldier led Johannia by the hand until the both of they came to a carriage. The soldier opened up the side door, and led both of them inside, and Johannia was glad to take a seat. As soon as they were seated the driver hit the reins and the horses went running at full speed. Johannia was glad that she could again have a safe breath, yet there was also many questions she had. The most pressing of them, however, was as to why Bishop Karyn was there as well.

“You!” Johannia said.

“Is that any way to thank the one who just saved you?” Bishop Karyn said.

“You condemned me as a heretic,” Johannia said.

“You would have been condemned anyway,” Bishop Karyn said. “And I could not very well had the other suspecting me. This way works best. They would never have suspected. They think I am nothing but a second-rate poet, but I am far more than that.”

“You allowed them to burn my head with that damned cap,” Johannia said.

“You’re going to have to get over it,” Bishop Karyn said.

“Let me out here for a moment,” Mother Johannia said.

“What?” Bishop Karyn said. “We can’t. If someone sees you, I can’t imagine it’ll be easy for us to get out. No. We need to get out of Nyhem as quickly as possible.”

Johannia, however, was not listen. She stepped out of the carriage and entered in the center of the two. As people saw her approaching, many recognized her and were shocked.

“Know this!” Johannia said. “Mother Johannia lives, and it is due to the grace of Jykher that it is so. Never, citizens, abandon virtue, and always follow as according to what the gods say, and nothing else!”

Then Johannia quickly returned to the carriage, opening the door and taking her seat once again.

“If you are quite done, Mother Johannia, then now we begin our journey to Ralda,” Bishop Karyn said.

“Ralda?” Johannia said.

“Yes, my home,” Bishop Karyn said. “The place of my birth, and of my treasury. You do know, Mother, that there is no turning back. You will need a movement, and army, if you are live, and not return to that stake you barely escaped from.”

“Indeed,” Johannia said. “I know. And if that is the will of the gods, then so be it. I shall never surrender. Even in death, I shall live on, until the Church has been thoroughly purified.”

[Ellri]

Authors

Ellri & Sundered Echo

The mood in Thale manor was dour. The lady of the house had returned the previous night distraught, and all within had quickly realised as she became beside herself with grief. Though most had slept well enough, Lanaya had only found the peace of sleep in the early hours of the morning.

And so, when waking, found herself barely refreshed at all. Even a good warm bath had barely proved refreshing. Recent events weighed heavily on her mind as she dressed - in the one and only black outfit present in her wardrobe. Her illusions made a veil of shadows to cover her face, a magical facsimile of the real thing. It was unmistakable for those looking upon her that she was grieving.

Satisfied with her appearance, Lana descended from her room on the top floor of the manor to the dining hall, where her guest would be waiting. Per her request, the Lord Thale was not present, and the servants made themselves as scarce as possible. It was to be Lana and Urd alone in silence.

There had been very little for Urd to do after the king dismissed her. She had left the palace, initially heading for the Plucked Hen, only to remember that she would be staying in the Thale manor. She spent some time wandering the city before returning to the manor, all of it rather uneventful. The rest of the day was equally uneventful.

Come the following morning, she dressed herself after making it clear that she had no need for any help from any of the Thale servants to do so. Before she could plan anything else, one of them informed her that she was expected at breakfast by the lady of the house.

Having met Lord Thale, she wondered who the lady of the house was. When she ate with him the day before, she had gotten no impression that there was a lady of the house. Suffice to say, when she did get to the dining hall, she was a little surprised to see that the lady of the house was in fact Lady Lanaya, one of her teachers from many years before. Though it had been many years, she would recognize the woman anywhere, black veil and clothes or not.

She stood there a bit dumbfounded by the shock, looking at the woman, quite put out.

“It’s good to see you well Urd.” Lana half smiled at the fellow mage across the table, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Despite current events…” She quietly added.

She remembered the mage a little, she had taught her in the Circle. Not much, illusion had not been Urds speciality, but the girl had wanted to learn some very specific things, and that made her stand out to Lana. She also recalled that they had shared some similar views on some matters… Yet had fairly different ideas about what should be done about them.

“I have had a very long week my dear, so you’ll have to forgive me for dispensing with the pleasantries.” Lana’s tone was apologetic, but as she spoke to Urd she took on the airs of the circle teacher once again. The mannerisms were a social cue placing her respectfully as the superior.

“The murder you witnessed was that of my dear friend, High Magister Aurelia. I’m sure you are tired of reliving such a terrible scene, but if you could tell me of her last moments, I would appreciate it.”

Urd finally collected herself and looked at her former teacher in a considerably less shocked manner. “Pleasantries have their uses, but directness also has its place. There is no need for them here.”

She silent for a moment after Lanaya relayed her request. “It is fine. I do not mind.” After a quick pause, she began speaking the tale. “It was a late evening. I was out in the city, wandering as I am wont to do. I saw the woman first, thinking nothing of her. When I saw the two assassins, I initially thought nothing of them. By the time I connected the two, that the two assassins were following the woman, it was already too late. I saw one of them plunge a dagger into the woman.”

“Though I had not recognized her, I tend to take offense to people attacking other people while I am near. Thus I made my objection clear, however while one of the assassins stuck close enough for me to freeze him, the other assassin ran off. I brought my new block of ice with me to the first guard barracks I could find, then collapsed, my resources drained. When I woke back up, I was in this house.”

Lana listened carefully. It was hard to hear about her friend like this. Impersonal, and knowing the way it would end. A lesser woman might’ve broken down into tears, or otherwise been overwhelmed. But Lana was not a lesser woman. She simply set her jaw and held a stern but neutral look.

“Thank you.” She said when Urd had finished speaking. “I was informed this morning that the assassin you caught in the ice unfortunately did not survive the defrosting.” The way she said ‘unfortunately’ made it quite clear that Lana thought the misfortune was hers, not his, for in dying he robbed her of the chance to interrogate and then torture him.

“I will understand should you not wish to disclose the answer to what I ask next, but I am curious… What brings you to Nyhem?” Lana asked, her voice curious yet weary at the same time.

“Personal business.” She replied, clearly not interested in sharing any details. “So he died. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. I presume his belongings and clothes can potentially reveal some, at least.”

“No. He dressed anticipating capture it seems. He wore nothing to identify him or those who employed him.” Lana sighed. It was a morning of dead ends it seemed.

“I trust you have seen success in educating the mundanes on your travels?” She continued, interrogatively. This was a dance they had done before. Lana knew Urd shared some of her beliefs, but they had so far never quite seen eye to eye on exactly how to go about seeing them fulfilled. It had been some time however, and the world had changed. As such, she thought it prudent to ascertain once more where Urd stood on the matter of Mage rights.

“I have not had to instruct anyone about how bad an idea it is to try to burn someone alive in months, if that is what you refer to. Aside from that, I tend to avoid the uneducated masses. They rarely have much interesting to discuss, they are unclean and quite frankly, they smell.”

Lana actually smiled at that, despite her general mood at present. Of course she agreed with the young girl, commoners were rather unpleasant. Thankfully, she had long ago learned that they could be easily influenced without having to actually interact with them.

“That is good.” She stated, genuinely, before continuing, now with the disapproving voice of a teacher chiding her student for a careless mistake. “I’m sure you haven’t heard, traveling here and there as you do-” She altered her voice to be more positive “-But I have made great strides in assuring us our rightful -”

She was cut off rather rudely and suddenly as a house Thale guard burst into the room, clearly having sprinted there. “M’Lady!” He began, half bowing as he continued to speak. “A stake has been set up ‘afore the manor. There is a mob gathering, screaming about a righteous burning!”

The moment Urd heard the words ‘mob’ and ‘burning’, her head shot up, looking straight at the guard. “There will be no burning.” She said, her voice extremely firm. She had already begun to stand up, her meal completely forgotten, her eyes cold with righteous fury. “Come Lanaya. Let us teach them just how bad an idea burning is.”

This was not good. Lana leapt to her feet, and, lifting the skirts of her dress, moved swiftly towards the door in pursuit of Urd. The guard was still stammering on - something about trying to stop it - but he was immediately forgotten. Lana was just as eager to stop this terrible thing as Urd, but seeing the fire in the girl’s eyes and the immediate shimmer of magic surrounding her also set off alarm bells in Lana’s mind. This had to be stopped, but as much as she wanted to see the mundane scum slaughtered, doing so would just make things worse and it was clear Urd was on a warpath.

---

The scene unfolding in the street outside Thale manor was one not seen in Nyhem in this form in quite some time, though it was about to become more common, unbeknownst to those present. A stake had been erected - clearly rather hastily, in the middle of the street, and below it fuel had been piled. A man had been tied to the stake with thick ropes - he was clearly quite distraught, shouting something - though what could not be heard over the roar of the crowd that had developed.

The crowd, sudden and furious, was not unusual in itself. It was partially made up of those genuinely wanting to see the poor man on the stake burn, the agitators, who whipped everyone around them into a fury. Much of the crowd was normally indifferent, but eager to take up the cause that would give them a break from their repetitive lives. The remainder was made up of those who simply came to find out what the commotion was, and stayed because of the spectacle.

Atop a nearby cart, there was a hooded, cloaked man shouting - seemingly the leader or instigator of this pop up mob. Though the crowd shouted a great deal, they were quieter when the man held up his hand and began to speak. “The church has spoken!” A roar of approval from the crowd. “Sorcerers and Mages are spawns of the devil! Wicked creatures who inspire sin in everyone around them and twist their minds!” Cries of ‘burn the witch’ ‘devil’s spawn’ and ‘it’s the will of the gods’ echoed in response to the words, but ceased when the cloaked man once more held up his hand.

“This mage stands accused of using his vile powers to seduce many a man and woman to vile sins of indulgence and adultery! What shall we do with him?!”

The crowds answer was immediate and clear. ‘Burn him!’

Lana was taken aback by the suddenness of it all. She listened in morbid curiosity as the man spoke, feeling a note of familiarity in the sound of his voice, but unable to place it. At the same time, confusion gripped her. She did not recognise the man on the stake at all, yet she had met, at least in passing, nearly all the mages in the city. This combination of things left her confounded and struck into inaction for a long moment.

When she got outside, Urd could see the gathered mob standing around the stake, a man tied to it and another, hooded man standing upon a nearby cart, making the usual speeches for a lynch mob’s leader. She needed but a glance to take it all in. Though she knew many mages, Urd did not know them all. However, that was irrelevant. She didn’t care whether someone was a mage or not. Nobody deserved to be burned alive. Nobody. Besides, more often than not, uncouth villagers tended to try to burn innocents.

She effortlessly reached for her magic, releasing it in the form of an illusion to enhance her own voice the moment before she started speaking. “[b]There will be no burning! Royal decree has banned burning as a method for execution.” As she spoke, the form of her wolf shade coalesced beside her, its mouth in a angry snarl, reflecting her state of mind perfectly. She moved towards the mob, not even a hint of fear upon her face as she did.

“In addition, possession of magic is no crime. There has been no trial. There will be no execution.” The tone of her voice brooked no question. She glanced at the presumably shocked mob leader. Without even so much as a gesture, her wolf shade ran forward and leapt through the air, easily clearing the distance to the cart in a single bound, missing with a bite, but nonetheless knocking him off the edge of the cart and into a part of the mob. As she could not see him at that point, she could not properly direct the shade to target the right individual. Thus, she recalled the shade, and it disappeared from where it was and appeared back at her side.

For a moment, the crowd was stunned by the new speaker. But as they realised what she was, they were spurred into new action. Though the leader did not get the chance to personally throw a flaming torch on the pyre as he was assailed by the wolf, the crowd did not need any more encouragement to do it themselves. One of the faceless mass carrying their own torch cast it upon the base of the stake - where all the fuel was piled. Flames immediately roared into being, licking at the poor man’s feet as his shouts turned to screams of terror and pain.

Lana had never before witnessed such a horrific thing and it was only as the crowd began to turn its attention towards Urd that she was shocked into action. Shouts of ‘Witch! Burn her!’ rang out, though some of the less fanatical crowd had already fled at the sight of a magical wolf in the streets. Speaking words of power - Lana raised her right hand into the air then lowered it sharply as she pointed towards the ground. A wave of Force emanated from her, flowing harmlessly around Urd before smashing into the crowd with enough strength to knock them all to the ground, but not seriously injure. Like dominos, the screaming mass fell, and the roar of people was replaced by shocked silence. Lana also amplified her voice, stating one word only in an authoritative voice worthy of a queen. “Enough!”

At the exact same moment as Lana’s shockwave hit, Urd unleashed a combination of frost and fire magic upon the now-burning pyre, instantly extinguishing it, leaving a coat of rime upon the wood and man alike. It did not end his agony, but it did stop any further fire from harming him. If anything, he would have a greater risk of harm from frostbite than from the fire. Though she had not aimed to hit him, it was far more important to kill the fire than to leave him unharmed.

After the initial wave of frost, a light drizzle of snow fell down on and around the stake. Urd staggered a little, but did not pass out from the use. It was far less intense than what she had used upon the assassin.

Those Thale guards that had avoided the shock wave sprung into action then, rushing in to restrain some of the worst looking of the agitators. Lana spoke then, in a normal, unamplified voice. “Everyone will disperse immediately, or face the judgement of the King.” As if to prove her point, a detachment of city guards arrived and began to assist the Thale men in restraining members of the incapacitated crowd. Many of the rest of them hauled themselves to their feet slowly now, and did, indeed disperse. Only the most vehement members were left, but now that the guard had arrived, Lana did not trouble herself with them.

“Fetch a healer.” She stated to the nearest Thale guard, before turning to Urd. She was worried that the girl would be still so worked up that she might lash out at the villainous men that remained. She was equal parts sympathetic and commanding when she spoke. “Urd. Let us not linger in this place.”

Slowly Urd calmed down, her magic eventually dispersing, now that the guards had come to take care of the crowd. “Yes. Let us depart.” As she spoke, her wolf shade slowly faded away to whence it had come from.

The two women departed the scene swiftly, re-entering the grand Thale manor. Unbeknownst to them, the cloaked instigator of the scene had escaped relatively unscathed, fleeing as soon he was knocked off his elevated position.

---

Once inside, Lana led Urd up to her room - the most secure and secretive place in the large house. But she did not sit or speak comforting words - instead, she turned on her heel and landed a slap on Urd’s cheek. It stung her hand, unused to such violence, but she did not show it, launching instead into a stern lecture.

“What were you thinking?” She began. “Using magic to attack the instigator? Are you trying to encourage them?! They will jump on every excuse to vilify us and it is hard enough to maintain our already fragile status of being more useful to society than dangerous without our own people reminding the mindless mundane mass of exactly how deadly we can be on a casual whim.” She paused for breath, but was not finished.

“It is not through fear that the mundanes will be rendered passive and safe. Fear will only make them strike at us. If we do violence against them, they will return the favor in kind. And before you believe we are untouchable, remember that Aurelia was superior to us both, and she was struck down in a heartbeat!” Lana’s voice cracked at this, and she immediately turned away. She had let a justified lecture turn into an emotional tirade and shown vulnerability. Her cheeks flushed red and hot, and she used the opportunity of not facing the other woman to quickly hide that with an illusion.

Urd waited for Lana to finish her monologue before answering. Breaking into the middle of it would only make it take longer. “You may be older than me, but your experience with angry mobs is sorely lacking. Decapitating them is essential to making them possible to disperse.” She took a quick breath before continuing. “If I had wanted their leader dead, he would not be alive now. My shade could easily have gone for his throat. But that would not have worked well. I learned that the hard way many years ago. Killing a mob’s leader only fuels their fervor. Shaming the leader, however, that works well. I personally prefer to avoid a bloodbath. Especially considering that most of these people were largely here for the spectacle of it all.”

Lana did not turn back to listen, but she did listen. Urd’s words did make sense. When she finished, she turned back, a harrowed look on her face. She was too proud to apologise outright, or even blatantly acknowledge Urds words as right. Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed and continued on with what she had been about to say before the incident.

When she spoke, it was now in a much more demure manner. Exhaustion was clear, but a hint of respect also made its way into her tone. “I have made great strides for our cause in court of late. The ban on burning the King passed… That was at my prompting. In order to continue our cause across the land, I have organised a Mage's collective, that influential and knowledgeable mages might coordinate the efforts to rid the world of scenes such as the one on my doorstep now. Your skills and experience would benefit the collective greatly.”

It was as close to an apology as Urd would see.

“Hmm…” Urd answered. “I will have to think about it.” She was not even remotely ready to commit to anything like that at this time. First she would have to figure out what to do about the entire business with her family, more specifically, her father. “What is your opinion of the king?”

Lana smiled a thin smile at Urd at that question. It was unexpected, but not so much so that it left her flat footed. She decided to give a fairly honest opinion here, given that she was speaking to a fellow mage.

“He is a complicated man. He is partial to mages, which as you can imagine is a good thing as far as I am concerned. He has what it takes to win this war. Make no mistake, he is cunning, and does not limit himself like Manshrew does with claims of being the most honorable man in the world. I do not know him personally particularly well, but Aurelia spoke highly of him. He makes a good king, and if you respect him, he will respect you.”

Of course, she left out the part about her belief that he would ultimately fall to Eli Blackwell.

“I gathered as much from my meeting with him. It is good to see that my impression is not completely incorrect. What about the others in his family? What are they like?”

“Patrick, I have not met. I would think you would know him well enough, as the Lord of Cawanor. Isabel…” She paused. She had only met the woman in passing, not enough for a real judgement of character. All the same, she didn’t like the woman. “Isabel is one to be careful of. I have only met her in passing, but she did not seem friendly.”

“Thanks for the advice. I will keep it in mind.” She had hoped to learn more about her father, but got a pretty clear impression that Lana did not know much of anything about him. It certainly did not feel like a dodge, at least. “Any other people you think I should be careful about in court? Other than you, of course.” The last bit she added with a small grin.

Lana responded with a mocking, withering look. “You don’t need to be careful of me. Your goals are the same as mine. We simply don’t always agree on how to achieve them. As for the others… Well, part of the political experience is in figuring it out yourself. Now, I am weary, and have much to prepare for later today. You are still welcome in this house, if you wish, but I would like to rest now.”

“Then I will take my leave. I have other things to do myself today.” With that said, she departed from Lana’s chambers.

[Klomster]

The march had gone all according to plan, not surprisingly Andrew had held good on his word and let his men go without hounding them.
He didn't know, but he assumed the other prisoners were probably being sent out at this very moment. At least he hoped so.

Clarm came into view, the massive fortress upon the clifftop ever an impressive thing to see.
Claus almost felt sorry for Andrew, he knew his enemy would need it as a foot hold to claim the entire peninsula for his alliance, but it would not be a fun fight.

It didn't take long to get to the castle, many tents were outside with the various troops of the concord.

As he entered the city, a messenger rode up to Claus and handed him a cloth letter.
The lords of the castle wanted to see him, just as he thought.
After sending out his re-acquired forces for some much needed drinks with their own, he went into the keep. Alone.

The couple was waiting at the courtyard, this time without the troops surrounding him as Claus entered, which was a relief.
He marched up to them with proud steps, their expressions far from happy, but at least they were not visibly furious. Which was also a relief.
-"Milords." Claus expressed with a happy smirk, it was evident they were not in a joking mood.
Cathryn spoke.
-"You are lucky that lord Patrik De Reimer is there to cover your diplomatic missteps. General." She was not pleased, her reason going above any anger she might hold at this moment.
-"Grandin, tell him about your military plans." She spoke to her husband.
-"I want to take the Telmarion forces to aid the concord, if they fight the Manshrew's in a pitched battle they will need all the forces they can muster, also, the keep cannot hold all those troops in a proper defensible position anyway." Grandin spoke with impressive calmness considering the situation.
-"I agree, you will also take with you the concord mercenaries, you will have temporary command over them until i speak to Patrik myself."
Claus expressed, at the mercenary part both Grandin and Cathryn was visibly surprised, although fashionably so. Claus kept going.
-"This fortress cannot have too many defenders atop the walls and in its keep, it is best that only the very best forces are focused here and that care is taken not to be cornered. I don't want to see my troops pressed together like sheep livers in a barrel."
The Tuania's evidently wasn't really used to the expression but seemed to understand.
-"This fortress is best manned with about 3000 men, more than so will just work against us." Claus seriously noted.
-"Yes, that is correct." Grandin told, seemingly surprised. It seemed he just realized he had underestimated Claus tactical knowledge.
-"What makes you so certain?" Cathryn asked.
With a smile Claus informed.
-"Did ya miss it? The Steel Fist is specialized in siege warfare. To be fair though we're more used to be on the outside though." His telltale smirk betraying his pride.
-"Regardless, i'll need a contingent of your best archers, about a hundred or so. The more proficient the better." Claus demanded.
-"I'll, see what i can do." Grandin expressed with a hint of scepticism.

-"Now go, this whole affair has gone on for far too long. Make sure you are not caught by the Manshrew forces as you move out. I'll join you to make sure the concord mercs follow your orders for this assignment. Go directly south a day to begin with, then west. That way you will probably be able to form up with the concord in time, while also avoiding Andrew." Claus ordered.
With that he just turned around and began marching out, slowing down to look at Grandin, suggesting he should move.
With an initial hesitation he moved out.

Making sure the concord mercs listened to Grandin was easy enough, after that Claus made sure to have another meeting going over the defence details with his own company.
Later that day, the entire concord force moved out, together with the remnants of the Telmarion army. The tent camps outside the fortress now gone, Claus stood in a lookout tower and watched them move out, south, just as ordered.
Cathryn had stayed behind in Clarm, probably to try and keep her country running while the war was going on. Not an easy task, so her efforts were admirable.
He had no further problems with the Tuanias.
Claus thought that he should work with this Patrik guy more often, people seemed to take his word dead serious. And when his word said that Claus was to be boss, that meant Claus had a massive amount of say.
It felt good.

Later on, a scout came riding to Claus to give him news.
-"Sir, they have been spotted, as suspected, they are coming this way. The Manshrew forces are coming to Clarm!"
Claus just watched the horizon, and spoke.
-"We meet again Andrew. We meet again...."

[ZB1996]

Statistics and Reality

Lycaon stood at a long, broad brown wooden table that had over it a long and wide piece of paper. This piece of paper was a detailed map of the Sypius Plains, meticulously depicting the various geographical structures of the province, and listing every village, no matter how small, with a dot and a name. Besides these dots indicating the villages were numbers, which had been written on the map by Lycaon with a pen, which indicated how many were needed to be conscripted from that village. Some said twenty, some said thirty, and some said other things. Some thousand troops were to be taken from Nyhem alone, different numbers being written by different districts. On the other side of the table stood Sir Daeleth, as well as Sir Raeya, Sir Oswyn, Sir Glynda, and Sir Sayer.

“So, Lycaon,” Sir Daeleth said. “What’ve you brought to us today?”

“Could you not be a little more proper?” Sir Sayer. “You are speaking to our Lord and leader, after all. Forgive him, milord, his mannerism is wanting.”

“I’ve known Lycaon for longer than you have,” Sir Daeleth said.

“Let no more be said of this matter,” Lycaon said. “Today I brought you here, my esteemed captains, so that our mission now can be known to you. It is now our responsibility to raise a brigade. And each of you has your own responsibility to attend to, as do I.”

Lycaon approached his captains, and handed each of them a piece of paper, each of them having a list of names of villages on them, with a number by them.

“The logistics and statistics have been studied and reviewed well,” Lycaon said. “And now must be carried out. Go to each of these village, and get that many soldiers. These are my orders to you.”

“And I am gladdened, milord, to receive them,” Sir Raeya said. “Yet I still wonder, milord, what shall you do?”

“I shall remain in Nyhem, and gather the people here to serve in my brigade,” Lycaon said. “There are things that still must be attended to, in our capital. Unless there are further questions, you are dismissed.”

“Milord, with the greatest respects my lowly self can offer, I shall at once go to my duties,” Sir Glynda said, saluting.

“Yes, milord, your will shall be done,” Sir Sayer said, saluting.

“I shall see your army gathered swiftly and effectively, milord,” Sir Raeya said, saluting.

“It shall be done, milord,” Sir Oswyn said, saluting.

“This doesn’t sound like much fun,” Sir Daeleth said. “Damn.”

Goodbyes and New Beginnings

Herona was awoken by the sound of the rooster. It was as loud, obnoxious, and as bothersome as ever, but Herona was not annoyed by it; she had lived with the call of the rooster since the day she had been born, and was used to it. She awoke yawning and stretching her arms, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and then brought the thick wool blanket away from herself. Then she slid off from her creaking, old wooden bed that her father had made for her when she had turned ten, and rose herself up. She put her coarse hands up to her head to feel her golden hair, gently patting it down, running her fingers through it. She wished she had a mirror. Herona had never seen a mirror before, one of those things which supposedly one could see themselves reflected in, but she had heard of them. She wondered for a moment whether it had to do with mages, but put the thought of her mind, at least for now. There were more pressing matters she had to take care of right now.

She slipped out of her night clothes and went into her work clothes made of thick wool, freshly washed from three days ago. First she put on the blouse, then the long skirt, then her cap, then her boots, and then her gloves. When she left her room she saw that her elder sister Eleira was already up as well, and was up at the counter, preparing the stew. Her hand held a long wooden spoon, stirring the soup as she poured the cabbage and vegetables into it one by one. Herona’s younger brothers Aethan and Cedric came running across the house, with Aethan chasing the mischievous Cedric around, though their elder sisters could see nothing more from them other than that they were mucking around.

“Pipe down, the two of you!” Eleira said. “Unless you reckon on replacing all that the two of you break.”

And when they didn’t listen, Herona, with a bright smile on her face, reached down to the both of them, and grabbed them up by their collars and set them down in their chairs.

“Mind your sister, the both of you,’” Herona said. “Alright?”

“Alright,” they said in unison, and now they were under control, at least for the moment.

Then she let go of her brother’s collars, and let them fall into the wooden seats around the dinner table. Aethan and Cedric began to fidget, and when Cedric began to lightly kick Aethan the two of them once again began to muck around with each other. Herona held them back, but the two of them stopped messing around anyway when Eleira put a bowl in front of their face, and then they were pacified completely, for now that they had something to eat. Herona as well got her bowl, as did Eleira, and so Eleira led them in prayer. Then they all ate peacefully. They made small talk, passing the time with joyous smiles as they prepared for yet another day at work.

Then soon they left, and all went storming out the door. Herona stepped out of the door and into the open and free world of the outdoors, where she could breathe in the fresh air and the morning dew. After she went to the barn to grab her hoe she went to the fields, where she began to till the fields so that they could plant the vegetables, carrots, lettuce, cabbage, and potatoes. Eleira was not far from her, tilling at the other edge of the field, but Aethan and Cedric were not. They took care of the pigs, and unlike at the breakfast table there was no mucking around. Herona held up her hoe above her head, and then hit against the ground with all the strength which her body could muster, digging deep into the ground, and then roughly pulling out the hoe, with the dirt coming up in thick chunks. Herona sang softly, but aloud, the words of, “Shadows under the Suns,” that ancient song sung even by their heathen ancestors, which she had heard uttered from the lips of the minstrel Rorty, as she labored under the rays of the sun and wiped away the sweat from her brow. For Herona, waking up with the sun and working until it went down, with only short interruptions in the form of meals, was life, at least during this season. Mother died four years ago, and father had died just two years ago. Her eldest sibling Aelric had died six years ago, just before his fifteenth birthday, and Daria and Daniel had died when they were just infants. This was life for people like her, but Herona would not complain while their life had joy under the sun.

Herona was singing softly the words to “Wish You Were Here,” while she wiped the sweat from her brow after she dug her hoe deep into the earth. That was when a messenger for the baron, dressed in his bright and garish clothing, appeared, and stood before Eleira. Herona could not hear what they said, but supposed that it must have been either urgent or convincing, for Eleira soon came over to Herona and told her that she needed to leave for the time being. Herona nodded and bid her sister farewell, and she did realize how sad a face she was bearing. Rather, she could not help think of how odd a thing were the clothes the messenger were, and how clean they were. Were they washed every day? What a waste of water that would be! What she could have done with such water…

So Herona continued to work, slashing through the earth with her hoe again and again. She had to be done before harvest season. She was focused on working, and sung softly the words to “The Land of Glass,” but nonetheless she heard overheard in the nearby trees and bushes quite a rustling. She wiped the sweat from her brow and ceased working, even if only for a moment, and looked towards the forestry.

“Someone there?” Herona said.

Herona saw someone not hiding very well, his face, rough and covered with scars and scratches, and his coarse black hair seen as well.

“There ain’t no need to hide,” Herona said. “Come on out, sir.”

So he did so, but he did so ever slowly, for this stranger was ever weary of everyone he ever came across. He emerged from the bushes, and his clothes were worn and weary, and torn, and his boots looked ready to fall apart. At the sight of him Herona knew that he must have been on quite a long journey. He held a dagger in his hand, firmly gripping it.

“My,” Herona said. “Well, if I may say so myself, it looks as if you’ve had something of a journey. Tell you what, sir, why don’t you come on inside, and I’ll fix you something nice to eat.”

Herona paid no attention to the fact that he was point his knife at her with aggression in his eyes. Rather, she put her hoe down on to the ground, and went to her house, waving for this man to come inside. She showed not even an ounce of hostility, so he grudgingly followed behind her, though he was still ever wary. She opened her door for him and led him in, and as he took a seat at the table, Herona prepared a meal for him. She took out a clay plate for him, and put a couple of carrots and potatoes on, and filled a clay cup with water, and, with plate in one hand and cup in the other, she put both on the table in front of him.

“Sorry that it ain’t much,” Herona said.

He was still looking at her suspiciously and full of hostility, but when the food and drink came down in the table in front of him it didn’t take long for him to begin abandon his wary attitude. He was very hungry, and so he ate like an animal, rapidly taking up the food up in his hand, and eating and chewing rapidly, without bothering to keep his mouth closed, and drank up the water in one gulp, and gave a satisfied sigh at the end. Then he promptly got up to leave.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Of Course,” Herona said. “Around these parts, we treat our kind well, whether they be friend and stranger.”

Then he was gone. He left so rapidly that Herona didn’t know what to think. He seemed to be an odd man, and rough, but Herona wasn’t the type to judge others, and so she thought nothing more of it. Yet she saw that he had left in such a hurry that he had left his knife lying there on the table. So she took it up in her hands, gripping it in her hands, and had made up her mind to find this man again and deliver it to him. She left her house and went looking for him. Herona went looking all around, nodding and curtseying politely to everyone she came across, and asking if they had seen a rough-looking stranger around, but none had. Then Herona came upon the Church, which she saw had a pair of guards each wearing a fearsome and serious expression on their face, and each holding a tall halberd in their hands, and Herona’s curiosity got the better of her. She just could not resist the urge to see what exactly was happening inside the Church. She snuck around the Church, the guards never taking notice of her presence, and snuck around the western edge of the Church, where there was quite a large hole in the glass, which Herona could look through and overhear anything happening from the inside. Herona was surprised to see the landlord, Baron Theobald, inside, tightly gripping her sister Eleira’s elbow. Eleira tried to escape from his grasp, but with his aggression and his grip she was unable to, and his grip seemed only to tighten when she tried to escape from him.

“So is this what you want from me, m’lord?” Eleira said. “For me to go with you as a wife, and leave my family behind with nothing, and without saying a word, that’s something I cannot accept, so m’lord, I’m afraid I’ll have to turn your request.”

“Hah! You misunderstand, flower, I don’t want you as a wife,” the baron said. “I have already gotten myself one of those, and I would hardly take the likes of you as my wife. No, little flower, you’re going to live with me, but not as a wife. You’ll live in one of the backrooms, with the other women. The wife doesn’t like the fact, but beat a shrew enough and they’ll pipe down. And I don’t remember asking.”

“Hmph. Swell as that hell all sounds, m’lord,” Eleira said. “I’m going have to refuse, like I said. So good day, m’lord.”

Baron Theobald slapped her across the face so hard that she went tumbling down to the ground. She put her hand to her cheek, and eyed the baron with wariness, anger, but only a little bit of fear. He came down to her again, gripping her by the elbow. She resisted him as strongly as her will could muster, and repeatedly punched his face and kicked at his shin. As his grip came off of her, she began to retreat from him with all the speed her feet could take her, but she was not quick enough. Baron Theobald grabbed Eleira by her hair, and pulled her back to him. He grabbed her by the arm so tightly that a strong wave of pain went through her. Then the baron pulled out a large dagger, and held it against Eleira’s throat. This he used to threaten her, so that she would not resist anymore. Eleira became quiet, fear going through her heart now, and sweat appearing on her brow. Herona, watching, could not take it anymore. She felt guilty enough already, seeing how much their landlord had already hurt her sister. Herona crashed against the glass window with her shoulder going first, and the glass was shattered, and Herona herself falling down on to the wooden ground of the Church’s floor. She learned quickly that perhaps this had not been the greatest idea. The left half of her body was bleeding now in many areas, for shards had cut and pierced her all over. Nonetheless, Herona could not let it bother her, for she needed to save her sister from the landlord. She needed to persevere.

“Eleira!” Herona said.

“Herona?” Eleira said.

“Hmm? That’s the little sister, right?” the baron said. “No matter.”

And so he drew forth his dagger, and Herona was afraid. Yet even though she was fearful, she did not allow her fear to overwhelm her. Herona held out the knife that she acquired from that rough man. She had been planning to simply give it back to him, but now she would unfortunately have to give it back to him used.

“Where’d you get that?” the baron said.

“Get away from my sister!” Herona said.

The baron, smiling wickedly, put his dagger around Eleira’s neck. Herona was tortured in her mind, unsure of what to do, but the choice was soon made for her, for in this situation the power was not to be in the hands of Herona, but in the hands of Eleira. Eleira smashed her elbow against the baron’s neck, trying to escape from him, so the baron slit her neck.

“Eleira!” Herona said.

Herona ran towards her sister, and as she did, the Baron, with a bloodthirsty look in his eyes, held out his dagger, bloodied by Eleira. So as Herona ran towards her sister, she and the baron met. Both of them raised their weapons, the little blades of the iron which they held in their hand, and lunged at them, though only one of them would live. The baron’s dagger only scathed Herona’s side, for she slid away from it, but as for the knife Herona held in her hand, it went deep into Baron Theobald’s chest. Herona pulled it out of him as he flew down backwards and blood came streaming out of his chest rapidly, as she still needed to give it to that odd man she had met. Herona’s eyes left the baron, for she didn’t care about him. She was worried about her sister. She carried up her head and tried to cover her neck with her hands, so her blood wouldn’t come running out as fast. Hearing a noise, Herona turned her head. It was the guards. Having heard all the commotion, they began to barge in.

“Eleira,” Herona said.

“Sister…” Eleira said. “Go.”

She didn’t want to. At the same to, however, she knew she had to. She had no choice but to leave her sister behind to die. She knew that if she did it, she would never get over the shame. But she did it nonetheless. As the guards began to run to try and apprehend her, Herona ran with all the speed she had. She leapt over the Church’s altar, and smashed through the thick glass. Herona knew that this was an impious thing to do, to smash through the images of the saints and gods. More pressing to her, the glass hurt like hell. But Herona did not have time to worry about that. The moment she hit the ground she flung herself up, and ignored the fact that there were chunks of glass stuck in her skin, in her arms, in her legs. So Herona ran and ran, doing as much as she could to ignore the pain, focusing only on getting away, and behind her were the baron’s two halberd-wearing guards chasing her. She kept running, hoping with all her heart to eventually get away, until she bumped into a man rough-looking man in shining iron armor, with long black hair.

“Ah, excuse me, sir,” Herona said.

One of the baron’s guard tried to grab Herona by the shoulder, but the black-haired man drew his sword, and put the tip of his sword between Herona and the guard’s hand, stopping him.

“Sir Daeleth!” the guard said. “This woman is a dangerous criminal. She just killed the Baron of these lands, and her very own sister.”

“That’s a lie, liar. That bastard killed her in cold blood,” Herona said. “And I for sure just went and gave him what was coming to him. And I didn’t even want kill him. The man went and came at me, and so I had to defend myself.”

“Sounds good to me,” Daeleth said. “I need a thirty soldiers from this dinky village, and I think I’ve found one of my first.”

“You’re going to take her?” the guard said. “This killer?”

“I am taking killers,” Daeleth said. “Because what I need done is killing. But that’s enough out of you. You, girl. What’s your name?”

“H-herona,” she said. “Maudit.”

“Maudit? I knew a Maudit, once,” Daeleth said. “He came from this very village. His name was Antony.”

“My brother?” Herona said. “That’s my brother’s name.”

“Then I must apologize,” Daeleth said. “I must also deliver the news of your brother’s death. But maybe it’ll comfort you to know he died honorably.”

“I see…” Herona said, in shock. “So I lose two siblings today...”

It was just then that a couple of other guards came forward, carrying forward a rough-looking man. Daeleth, using his political power he had been given temporarily from this process of mobilization, had ordered a certain criminal, recently apprehended, to be brought to him. Herona realized that this rough-looking criminal was the very man that she had treated at her home. She once again remembered her responsibility, and got up and limped over to him.

“Your knife, sir,” Herona said.

“What, you? Hey, that’s my knife,” the man said. “Guess I should say thanks, for what it’s worth. So thanks.”

“This is certainly a surprise,” Daeleth said. “When I had heard about the vicious killer I knew I’d get a good one, but I had no idea it would be you, Hakon.”

“Ah, hey, Daeleth,” Hakon said. “Was hoping I’d never meet you again. Look it you now, with your fancy speech and your fancy clothes, you’ve turned into the very thing you hate.”

“I’m not an illiterate and incompetent. Unlike you, I made something of my life.” Daeleth said. “I started out as a criminal, I turned into a mercenary, and now I’m a knight! But looks like you’re still at stage one. But I think you’ll do nicely. Welcome to the army, Hakon.”

Herona wanted to stay awake, but she simply could not. The pain was simply too much. She fainted.

Sir Daeleth Heads East

Sir Daeleth stood tall and proudly upon his horse, and all around him were men and women whom he trusted with his lives, and they in turn trusted both him and each other with their lives. These were the Knights of the Order of Saint Elenor, trained for years in ways of horsemanship, swordsmanship, and the martial arts. Not everyone was accredited with an official knighthood; not everyone got to kneel before their lord or lady and feel a sword’s steel on their shoulder and official get to join the nobility. Some of them had originally come with Sir Daeleth, in the days when he ran his only mercenary company, and when Daeleth joined Lycaon they came with him. However, most of them here were properly knighted. Yet whatever they were, all of them were addressed as “Sir,” and all of them were knights in the eyes of the Order.

The knights walked forward upon their steeds, their formation being a circle, and from behind them were all the men they had brought with them, who, unlike the knights, were not well-versed in the martial arts or fighting in any kind, if you did not count barfighting. Firstly, there were all those who they had conscripted from the villages and towns. These were peasants and laborers mostly, but there were also the aristocrats and burghers. The peasants and laborers Daeleth ultimately had faith in, as in his experience they were of a hardy and enduring character, but in the wealthy Daeleth had not quite so much confidence in. They were an entitled sort, who never knew any sort of hardship, and were even less prepared for the experience of war than the commoners. Nonetheless, it was always these rich men and women, or the aristocrats at least, who were always made the officers. He lived in a culture of privilege. Secondly, there were also those men and women who served as the servants, laborers, nurses, smiths, and physicians. There needed to be someone to carry and cared for the equipment, to care for those who fell ill and those who fell wounded.

Daeleth had herself taken a part in getting these men and women recruited. It was one thing to use the Church’s funds to buy weapons and armor, and quite another to get the people to wield and wear them. It was one of those things that was both simple and complicated at the same time. Daeleth had personally oversaw gone into many villages, and saw that they got enough manpower from each. Daeleth hadn’t been the only one, either. One of those young recruits had especially stood out to him. Her name was Herona, and she was Sir Antony’s sister. She had come to him, wounds all over her body. He didn’t know the situation exactly, but he could tell that she had fought with all her heart. Daeleth had been impressed with her. She had killed, apparently, and he needed killers, as that was what was needed for war. Yet she did not look like a killer, with those types of eyes. Since everyone was on the move, and there was nowhere to lay her while she slept, Daeleth allowed her to be with her. She sat on his horse, behind him. He considered it as a favor for his friend. She was only a girl, hardly even a woman yet. He supposed he should have felt guiltier for thrusting the life of a killer on to her. Yet even now if she went back home now, they would execute her, so there was little choice.

Daeleth could see the shores of Telmarion, where Telmarion and Scassia nearly met. Yet they wouldn’t meet it today. When he looked up at the sky, he saw that the sun was already setting. So Daeleth gave the order, and everyone around him stopped, and began to circulate the message through the army that they were setting up camp for the day. They would have to wait another day before they reached the shore, and the ships at Mearle could take across the other side of the strait.

Johannia Travels

As Johannia sat on her velvet seat inside the carriage, she could not help but look at the beauty of Nature. There she was, just outside of the reach of Johannia, being the trees and its leaves, the wild grass, and all the species which flourished and propagated within the forests. Yet Johannia had no time to gaze in wonder at Nature. There things to do. Even within the confines of this crowded carriage, with a handsome guard on one side and a bishop she hated on the other, Johannia knew that there were things which she needed to do, and which she could accomplish.

“Bishop, do you have anything to write with?” Johannia said.

“Absolutely,” Bishop Karyn said. “But what on Earth would you need that for?”

“I need it, Bishop,” Johannia said. “Trust me.”

“If you say so,” Bishop Karyn said.

The Bishop put a square-shaped container on Johannia’s lap. Johannia opened it, and saw plenty of pages of parchment, and an ink and quill. Johannia’s mind was quite distracted, and could not focus on the nature outside, beautiful as it was, while she knew that there was a most pressing matter at hand. So Johannia focused herself, and began to write. She knew that there would be many among the common men and women who would follow her willingly and enthusiastically, but Johannia was unsure how useful hammers and scythes alone would be. She needed some support from the nobles. Even if it was lopsided against her, it would be enough, since the gods were on her side, and also the people. She just needed enough nobles to fund an army. Then she could overthrow both the false Church, even if King Duncan himself went rushing to their aid.

Johannia knew that the nobles could not be converted by sermons alone, no matter how polished its words, and that she needed something more than sound exegetical arguments to win them over. So as Johannia had begun to organize her thoughts, she realized that in order to woo the lords and ladies to her cause she needed to show how they would benefit in her way over the way of the High Priest or Grand Cleric. So Johannia began to write, and she knew, roughly, what her arguments needed to be. The esteemed nobles, though seemingly comfortable under the power of the existing Church, were actually constantly being disturbed by it. The Churchmen were greedy and independent. With merely one of these qualities the state of affairs of the nobles was troublingly damaged, but with both of these qualities the state of affairs of the nobles was a disaster. The Church’s greed meant that they took wealth from the people, reducing the general wealth from which the nobles could draw from their subjects. The Church’s independence, on the other hand, is disadvantageous to the nobles because it does not open up the aristocracy to the wealth of the Church, and makes the corrupt Church the only ones who can rightfully claim to be blessed by the providence of the gods. This fact has the disadvantage of making the nobility unable to hold sway over the hearts of the pious masses, and the additional disadvantage of making the people more and more impious, and an atheistic populace is certainly a bad idea, for everyone knows that atheists are universally immoral and hedonistic. Such were the arguments of Johannia. She thought of them, polished them, and then wrote them done. Nonetheless, she was not completely cynical. She laid out her theological ideas and justified them with the proper scriptural passages, but the practical perspective was a new element that had not been in her earlier sermon. Johannia lacked the proper awareness, however, to realize just how counterproductive the comments on atheists were.

“Hey, Mother,” the soldier beside Johannia said. “What’s that you’ve been working on this whole time? You’ve been writing pretty keen-like for a while now. What’s got you so excited.”

He leaned in closely towards her, so close that Johannia blushed. “Come on now, back away. Is that any way you should be talking to a Cleric?”

“Heh. I was just curious, is all,” the soldier said. “No need to get your undies in a bunch. Wait, I didn’t mean anything by that! That was slip of tongue, if you will, your grace.”

It did not matter what he said afterwards, for what he had said had already been said. So she slapped him hard across the face, thinking that perhaps this would make this man learn how to hold his tongue. Whether it worked only time will tell.

“Who even is this man, Bishop?” Johannia said.

“The man who saved you?” Bishop Karyn said.

“Perhaps,” Johannia said. “But he is quite an impudent man.”

“I’m Dietrich Plasait, from Sypius,” the soldier said. “Officer of the royal guard, with a captain’s rank; at least, I was when the day began. I imagine by this hour I’ve already been declared anathema, or something like that.”

“Well, Mr. Plasait,” Johannia said. “Prove yourself, and try to behave yourself, or at least keep your mouth shut.”

“We’re here,” Bishop Karyn said.

“What, where?” Johannia said.

“It will be dark soon,” Bishop Karyn said. “Luckily, there are number of inns on the way, and this is the first. The Grand Old Lion Inn, I believe it’s called.”

“An inn? One of those dens of lasciviousness and inequity,” Johannia said. “Where at the front there is a scantily-clad damsel playing her lute, that most devilish and wicked of all the instruments. Then there are the prostitutes in the backroom, seducing your good friend who is quite bright, but has just made a couple of mistakes in their life because of a couple of minor defects of character. So you try to drag him out, and away from his inequities, but then the prostitute suddenly seduced me, and after the act made off with my purse. Oh, ah, theoretically, of course.”

“I wonder what they have to drink,” Dietrich said.

Yet though Johannia said much of the inequities of the inns, she was not about to stay in the carriage for the night. So she walked into the inn, and alongside her was Bishop Karyn, Dietrich, and the carriage driver. The inn’s walls were of a brown, warm color, as warm as the air inside, with rowdy yet friendly patrons, tired from a long day’s work, some sitting at the bar, others sitting in the chairs around the round tables lighted by a single candle on each. The carriage-driver was himself very quiet, at least with his patrons, and took a seat at a table, and waited for a serving-girl to take his order. This happened quite promptly. The carriage-driver wished nothing from his patrons right now, and wished only to have a meal before he bought his room for the night and went to sleep. Dietrich was eager, after today, to get a drink, and sat at the bar, talking heartily and enthusiastically with the barwoman and the other patrons there. Bishop Karyn went to talk to the owner, while Johannia sat awkwardly and stiffly at the back of the inn.

Soon Bishop Karyn walked away from the owner’s room behind the bar and approached Johannia, telling her, “My associate is already here.”

“Your associate?” Johannia said.

“Yes, your bodyguard,” Bishop Karyn said.

“I thought that was this Dietrich fellow,” Johannia said.

“No, Dietrich is to be our general,” Bishop Karyn said. “The commander of our armies, or one of them, at least. And he will be staying here. Another carriage will be here shortly for him, and he will meet with us later. Perhaps.”

“Then let me see this bodyguard of mine,” Johannia said.

“Very well, Mother,” Bishop Karyn said. “I’ve already paid for the rooms, so feel free to sleep to your hearts content. Come, Mother, and I show you where. Your bodyguard will be sleeping in the room opposite of it.”

Johannia followed the Bishop to the long hallway where there were rooms left and right, in the most literal sense. Johannia was walking alongside Bishop Karyn, who was pointing the left, telling her that this was where room was to be, when Johannia heard something near the end of the hall. She looked up, and saw what in her opinion was a beautiful, fit man, who had long and bright blonde hair, and blushed at him as he staggered down the hall with a bottle in her hand, as the buttons on his shirt had come loose so that his shirt was flying open, baring much of his chest.

“A-ah, why hello there, Bishop,” the man said. “Tell me, ah, whose the fine ol’ lass that you got by your side.”

“You,” Bishop Karyn said. “Don’t tell me that you’re drunk!”

“We’re both drunk, if you’ve got to know,” he said.

“Both?” Bishop Karyn said.

“Woops,” he said.

It was that moment Bishop Karyn went into this man’s room, and saw a woman in there, who screamed and covered herself as soon as she the Bishop come in.

“That…that’s the owner’s daughter!” Bishop Karyn said. “You know better than that.”

“This cannot be the man who you had in mind, Bishop,” Johannia said.

“It is,” Bishop Karyn said. “This Percival del Valles. I promise you that he is trustworthy, and one of the best at what he does.”

“This drunken lout, this man of lust,” Johannia said. “You expect me to believe he has a part to play in the purification of the Church?”

“Sure I am,” Percival said. “It’s what the Bishop paid me to do. So, my fair lady, you can trust me. So long live the Reformation, long live Purity! Say, why don’t you come and join me and my fair lady, and I’ll show you a good time.”

“What? No, get away from me, you boor!” Johannia said. “Ugh. This is going to be a long journey…”

Ralda Draws Near

Johannia had felt that Dietrich was something of a fool, but now she missed him, for she felt that his replacement had been quite inferior in character to one who was merely a fool. This Percival, on the other hand, was she not everything that she had preached against? Was she not on a run, preparing for an inevitable war, because she had preached against the Churchmen committing the very same inequities this man had committed? The answer, of course, was yes. Yet because of the Bishop, she was now forced to have for a bodyguard this sensuous and lascivious man. She would separate herself from both of them as soon as possible. Such were the thoughts of Johannia. She now focused on finishing up her practical message on her theological and ecclesiastical vision to the aristocracy. The manuscript was now nearly done, nearing twenty pages, and now all she needed was to give it the finishing touches and write the conclusion. Yet as night began to dawn and the sun began to set, with the amount of light flowing into the carriage lessening, Johannia’s body soon began to remind her that she had not had enough sleep the night before, and before she knew it she was asleep.

So she wandered into the realms of the god of sleep, where daemons and sprites entered her, entertaining and stimulated her mind with the vivid images of the dreams. Johannia stood high, suspended in midair, and held there by thick ropes. She realized she was up on a stake, and below her were the flames, and the evil Bishops and Priests and Clerics who had condemned her to die as a heretic, laughing as they watched. The flames began to reach her, and went over her. Then she awoke, and her shaking body was against that of Percival’s. Upon realizing this fact Johannia quickly brought herself up and backed away from her bodyguard.

“You!” Johannia said. “While I was sleeping, did you violate me?”

“I would never violate a woman without her consent,” Percival said.

“Calm down, Mother Johannia,” Bishop Karyn, who could not help but notice that since the time she had met her, Johannia had been astoundingly rude to everyone. “I told you that you can trust Percival.”

“Yes,” Percival said. “I have never betrayed a client, even when I ought to have.”

Johannia certainly had something to say to this, and would have said it, but it was no longer the time for talking. They heard sounds coming from outside their carriage, the sound of horses. Percival put his head outside the carriage, but quickly had to put his head back inside when an arrow came rushing towards him. He pulled a bottle of wine out from his belt and drank down a gulp of it.

“An ambush,” Percival said. “Looks like someone got here before we did and told someone else we were coming. There’s horseman on both side, with archers backing them up. And I hope to the gods that’s all.”

“I-it can’t be!” Johannia said. “What do we do?”

“Fighting’s out of the question,” Bishop Karyn said. “Driver, try to lose them!”

Yet a second later the driver hit the brakes hard, trying with all her might to try and stop the horses from moving any more by pulling back the reins. It did not matter. Three men with pikes had jumped suddenly into the road, and let down their pikes. They pierced through the body of the horses, killing them, and the carriage went rolling on to its side hard. Johannia hit her head hard against the side of the carriage, the blow so powerful she could hardly keep consciousness, and would have fainted then and there, and waited for these assassins to bring her to death, had it not been for Percival. He kicked opened the door, and as Percival got outside, dazed as he was, he drew his sword when a man clad in armor of iron and leather came running towards him with a battle-axe in his hand. Percival was quicker than his opponent, and drew up his sword against his opponent’s opening in his armor, cutting through his neck. Then he grabbed Johannia, and with all his strength dragged her form out of the remains of the carriage. He would have grabbed out the Bishop too, but he did not have time, and since protecting Johannia was his mission, it was given priority. As Johannia felt Percival’s hand pulling her out, consciousness went flooding back to her, her hands tightly gripping her twenty-page manuscript.

Percival griped Johannia’s hand and led the way, as he had an inkling that in the heat of the battle the Mother would not up from down and left from right. Under the cover of night they escaped under the cover of the nearby hills. Soon these men-at-arms swarmed the carriage, with their swords and axes and pikes in hand. Johannia knew what would be done to the bishop and the driver, but she had to leave them, because there was no way that they could defeat them all. Once they hiding safely behind a hill, Percival let go of Johannia’s hand, and the cleric quickly went sitting to the ground cross-legged, her mind in a daze. Percival sat down as well, taking a gulp from his canteen filled with wine.

“That look in your eyes,” Percival said. “I can tell you’re not used to war or battle. But don’t worry, miss, I’ve got a job to do, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Consider your life safe.”

Johannia never once again called Percival lascivious, boorish, or a lout. No, such a thought never even occurred to her. She now only saw the man who was sitting alongside her.

The Mad Monk

If you went to the hottest section of the Uzgob Desert, you would find a hermit by the name of Fenick. He had been there for many years, away from the society and world that he had shunned. There, he felt himself always drawing closer to the gods. Today, however, was not to be a day of fasting or contemplation. Fenick sat mediating outside the cave he called his home, thinking of the great deeds of the prophets and his glorious martyrdom, when Rhodanthe, the only real company Fenick ever had up here came up. She, aged sixteen, was Fenick’s only acolyte and friend, and in return he had raised her up ever since she had come to him when she was but a babe, who had appeared on the doorstep of his cave in a basket. Fenick called it a miracle from the gods. For today, though, there was no talk of miracles.

“Hey, gramps,” she said. “You’ve got to hear this.”

He said nothing, and was not interrupted from his meditation.

“It’s important this time, gramps,” she said. “This woman, this cleric, named as she is Johannia of Telmarion, has preached about an entire new Church, though I don’t know much about it. She was saying things along the lines that that word ‘Church,’ can be used in many senses, the Church we know that’s full of the corrupt, the Church as any body of believers, and the pure, universal Church established by the gods. “The Church is in need of cleansing,” is a quote that keeps floating around. And gramps, this Johannia was saying that the Grand Cleric or High Priest or whoever’s in charge, their authority is no greater than an ordinary bishop, saying that that’s how it was in the beginning. And she gave no authority to the Synods, just to the Holy Books. That’s all I heard, from this this preacher in town.”

“I must eat,” Fenick said.

“Huh?”

Fenick went inside his cave, and soon came out, but he had his sack. He pulled out from it an apple and several hard pieces of cheese and a couple pieces of bread. He made a sandwich and ate it, and then at the apple too.

“I can’t remember you ever eating some much in a single sitting,” Rhodanthe said.

“I have heard the Good News!” Fenick said. “Surely it is so, that the Church has heralded in a new era. Rhodanthe, who was that told of you stories of such a saintly cleric?”

“Some preacher from down south came into Andromeda and started talking about her,” Rhodanthe said.

“Then to Andromeda we go,” Fenick said. “And meet with this preacher. The gods will it, I can hear Jykher telling me so. But Timtos too is telling me to be wary. But go we must, the gods tell me so, from their immaculate wisdom.”

“I’ll ready the horse, gramps,” Rhodanthe said. “Though isn’t this is the first time you’ve gone to the city in…?”

“It’s been over thirty years,” Fenick said.

“I’d be excited, were I you,” Rhodanthe said.

“I hardly am excited! I would go many, many more years than to go the squalor again,” Fenick said. “But go I must, for our task is sacred. Ready Belliante, Rhodanthe!”

And Rhodanthe did so. They descended from the cave, walking down that narrow path, until they got to the bottom, where Rhodanthe kept her horse, Belliante. She pet his mane, and then put on his saddle and rein. Then she leapt on him, and then pulled out her hand to Fenick, so that he could join her.

The Division

They entered into the capital of Uzgob, Andromeda, as the gates were open for them. Things in Andromeda looked to Rhodanthe to be about normal. Laborers and workers were walking to-and-fro, browsing the wares, looking at what they needed and what they could afforded, and the two did not always line up. Yet Rhodanthe had seen happier days here, in the days before the war. Rhodanthe quite enjoyed life in Andromeda, for it was always a nice respite from the drudgery and quietness of the desert. She did not enjoy the suffering that she saw, but she knew that if you looked in the right places you could find more than simply pain. Fenick, however, was not glad to be here. No matter how many years passed, he never missed civilization, and perhaps may have even come to despise it more.

“Andromeda…” Fenick said.

“Yes,” Rhodanthe said. “It’s nice to back, isn’t it, gramps.”

“Not at all,” Fenick said.

Rhodanthe said. “You said you wanted to meet that preacher, didn’t you?”

“Indeed,” Fenick said. “Let his light shine upon me, and the heart shall be seen, and gods’ will shall be revealed to me.”

So Rhodanthe led the way, with Fenick following close behind her. Rhodanthe walked into the city square, and then took a left. There, as they walked passed the houses, they came to a wide open area, where many people had gathered. At the center stood a man covered in a large habit, its brown hood over his head and its cloak running down his back. He stood up on a wooden podium, speaking to some two-hundred people, all listening intently to him. He was not an eloquent speaker comparable to the elite orators and rhetoricians, but he spoke clearly and bombastically, and gave a mission of liberation and purity that appealed greatly to the masses. Rhodanthe waited as the man finished his speech, as he was nearly done, before she tried to approach him. Rhodanthe, however much she found his words inspiring, no longer found them surprising. Yet for Fenick this was the first time hearing these words sprung from lips which were not his own, and was joyful and mesmerized. To him they were like a sweet song that sung through the air. Then when he was done speaking Rhodanthe began to move her way through the crowd, pushing and swerving her way through. Many people were not grateful, and pushed back, but Rhodanthe didn’t care, and persevered. Then she at last came to the front, where she might perhaps speak to the preacher.

“Excuse me!” Rhodanthe said. “If you don’t mind, sir, just one question, please. There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Of course, my child,” he said. “The sermon is over, and so some time may pass before the Good News comes again, though it will come again.”

“This woman, Johannia of Telmarion-” Rhodanthe said.

“Yes, the most holy of women!” the preacher said.

“Could you tell me a bit more about her?” Rhodanthe said.

“Indeed!” Fenick said, in an uncharacteristic booming voice, so that all in the crowd look at him. “I have heard the Good News, as if spoken by the tongue of the gods themselves, coming from you, yet also coming forth like the clouds of the sun came to me like holy white dove, that venerable Johannia of Telmarion.”

“Tell me, who are you?” the preacher said. “From your words and your appearance, you don’t seem like just an ordinary man.”

“But I am but just an ordinary man,” Fenick said. “I am only a simple man, who follows the gods’ laws as best as I can. I am only Fenick.”

“The man who lives in the wilderness! The men speak of you here speak of you with the highest regard, as one does of a sage,” the preacher said. “It is an honor to meet with one as holy as you, and I am glad that one like you is interested in the Good News. I am only a messenger of what is coming. It is Johannia of Telmarion who deserves praise for the message of hope and renewal I give.”

“And who is this Johannia of Telmarion?” Fenick said. “Where is she now? Down in her home of Telmarion?”

“No,” the preacher said. “She was at Nyhem, where the bishops viciously tried to put her to the stake. But sympathizers to her righteousness saved her, and now she heads towards Ralda safely. Such is the story that has been told many times over in the capital. And as for myself, I came from Nyhem, and I dedicated myself to spreading the new gospel. There are many like myself, not only here in Uzgob, but in Telmarion, in Coruneon, in Scassia, in Windermere, and elsewhere.”

Now Rhodanthe was standing back beside Fenick.

“Ralda, then,” Fenick said, and he looked at Rhodanthe. “Rhodanthe, the gods have just now made all things clear to me as like the water of the stream. You have always loved the cities, I know, and have always wanted to see the world, so go and see. You are now a woman, not a child, so there is no reason that you cannot. Go to Ralda, and find this Johannia.”

“Gramps?” Rhodanthe said. “Are you serious?”

“Do you not wish this?” Fenick said.

“I do…” said Rhodanthe said. “But it’s so sudden. But…I’ll do it. I’ll go to west, and find this Johannia, if I can, if that is what you want of me. But what about you?”

“I wish I could go with you,” Fenick said. “And one day I will join you, but today I cannot. For the moment, I must stay in Uzgob.”

“I see,” Rhodanthe said. “Guess there’s no reason to wait. As soon as I can, I’ll get going.”

“If you return back to the cave,” Fenick said. “Take whatever you need. For now, there’s no need for it.”

“I will, gramps,” Rhodanthe said. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

“For now, child,” Fenick said. “Until we meet again.”

[Sundered Echo]

Post Credit

TheDuncanMorgan and Sundered Echo

All daylight to the council chamber had been completely blocked out. The heavy window shutters had been fully closed and the only source of light in the room were a couple of dim candles that were all placed on the table. Duncan couldn't risk anyone listening in on the conversation and had taken extreme measures to ensure that nothing said in this meeting was heard by any prying ears. Duncan was not alone in the room. Before him sat everyone he knew he could trust. The first was Isabel; Duncan knew he could trust his sister without question, loyalty to the family was the main and only principle of the De Reimer's principles. Despite her short temper and spitefulness, Isabel would never betray her own flesh and blood, that he knew for certain. The next person in the room was Alex. Duncan known Alex since he joined the council under king John. He was a good-hearted and selfless man who would never of harmed Aurelia, a woman he considered a close friend. Not to mention Alex had next to no ambition, even if the opportunity arose for him to claim power he likely wouldn't take it. The final two people in the room were Alenius and Ulf. Though Duncan didn't know Ulf personally he knew that Isabel trusted him. A feat that was extremely hard to achieve.

"Your grace surely we can let some sunlight in here. I can hardly see anything" Alex stated as he desperately squinted at Duncan so he could see him clearly.

"No, I cannot risk anyone overhearing us, and the windows would be the best place for someone to eavesdrop"

"When will you new friend arrive brother" Isabel replied as she slouched back in her chair "I would prefer not waiting in this dark place any longer than necessary".

"I am sure Lady Dionisa will arrive soon, we merely need to remain patient"

Lana was late. Not out of intent, for a mage was never late. However, she had been waylaid by the excessive security the castle had acquired since her friend's death. Every guard post had stopped her, and every time she had to explain she was a friend to the king, that he had summoned her and that he would be unhappy should she be late.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the final pair of guards raised their halberds and let her pass. In the future, she would have to account for this problem… Or, ideally fly in somewhere that bypassed a number of the guards. She strode into the room, noting the darkness. It was rather fitting of the mood - distrust and fear hung in the air so thickly that it was almost tangible. She felt these things too, but grief still clutched at her heart with its icy, unforgiving grip. To mark that, she was wearing black - rare and uncharacteristic for her - and had a thin veil across part of her face.

“Thank you for waiting your grace.” She said, her tone formal and devoid of emotion. She remained standing as she continued. “I must however respectfully ask for a moment more time while I magically secure us from eavesdroppers.” She stated, her hands moving immediately in elegant patterns as she wove an illusion around the room, ensuring that anyone beyond its confines would hear only silence from within. In a few moments the spell was complete and she sat turning her head towards the king.

Isabel watched Lanaya as she sat down, clearly confused as to why she was here. How did Duncan know he could trust this woman? Did he know her better than Isabel gave her credit? could she possibly be a threat? Isabel lightly shook her head as she dismissed such thoughts; if her brother trusted her then that was enough.

"Since we are now protected from eavesdropping, could we please open the shutters"? Isabel said as she looked toward Duncan

"No, I would still prefer they remain closed, better safe than sorry" Duncan replied. He knew he was being paranoid but if there truly was an assassin in the keep he would not let his guard down. Afterall how many rulers had died untimely deaths due to underestimated their enemies. "Though if you could illuminate the room for us Lady Dionisa I would most appreciate it"

Lana was far from oblivious of the suspicious stare of the King's sister. Now that she had finished weaving her spell, she couldn't help but wonder if the king's trust in his family was misplaced. Isabel was by some accounts a vicious woman who delighted in suffering, and while Lana couldn't think of a reason why she would want to harm Aurelia, she couldn't think of a reason for her not to either.

"I agree." She said in response to Duncan. "One can never be too safe, and of course. It is but a trifle."

Light was one of the very first things an Illusionist learned, and creating a point of light in the air was simple. Never one to settle for simple illusions though, Lana gestured twice, making the roof suddenly seem to disappear, to be replaced by a grey sky with pale sunlight streaming in. Such a blatantly false image was easily disbelieved of course, but one still had to choose to do so.

Duncan sat down with a clear look of severity on his face.
"As you all know, Aurelia was murdered last night. The people behind her assassination are currently unknown to me. I believe that whoever is responsibility is not only within Nyhem, but inside the wall of the keep itself." After finishing his sentence he pulled out the small note he had found on his desk, before throwing it on the table so the other could read it. Isabel was the first to pick it up as she glared over the piece of paper before passing it over to Lanaya. "I found this note on my desk shortly before I was informed of Aurelia's death. I think it is likely that whoever wrote this note was also involved in Aurelia's murder, implying that at the very least they have connections within the keep. In this room are the only people in this city who I currently trust. And the list of my potential culprits is enormous. I want to hear your inputs of who you think was behind this, and who you think we should be keeping a close eye on"? The room feel silent. Isabel was clearly mulling over the various people she thought responsible, however like Duncan, the list of suspects was too large to be of any use. Alex on the other hand was at a loss; not only was he shocked at the idea that there was an assassin in the castle, but the idea that someone they knew had betrayed them was unthinkable.

Lana listened to Duncan set the scene. She already knew much of this, though the note was new to her. It suggested the motivations were more in line with striking at Duncan, but it did not change her approach to the situation for now. What she was about to say was bold, and may annoy Duncan, but she believed it the only way to unravel this plot expediently.

“There are many who could be blamed.” She began. “So let us consider possible motivations. To do that we need all the facts.” She glanced at Duncan then, but turned her eyes away as she continued. “Aurelia and the King had deep feelings for each other. Though kept fairly secret, one with access to the keep or able to eavesdrop on her tower would know this. In time, I believe Aurelia may have become queen. Killing her now…”

She fought back emotion at the words. She could not break down now, in front of this council. When she continued it was with a steady but emotionless voice. “Killing her now strikes a personal blow at the king and prevents her, a lowborn mage, from ascending to the throne alongside Duncan.” She paused a moment to let this analysis sink in and stand on its own before continuing.

“The alternative, perhaps less likely, is that she was killed to strike at me. I have fewer enemies than his majesty, but there are those who would oppose my ideals.” A hint of fear crept into her voice before she realised she felt it. It was only now she considered the possibility of an Assassin coming for her as well. If they could reach Aurelia, they could reach her too.

She quickly moved on, seeking to draw attention away from her slip. “Who then is opposed to Duncan being married? And who is opposed to mages in positions of power?”

Duncan body tensed up. Though he knew that everyone in the room would need to be informed about the feelings that he and Aurelia shared, he would have preferred to have told them himself. He threw Lana a harsh glance, before quickly dismissing it; what was done was done, and he had bigger things to worry about. A look of shock was shared by everyone in the room, all with the exception of Ulf; seemingly uninterested in the meeting.

"I was, unaware that his grace and the lady Aurelia had such feelings for each other" Alex stammered "Hearing this has made this ordeal even tragic then it already was. I am truly sorry for you my grace". At this Isabel gave a sympathetic nod in agreement; something that surprised Alex even more then the revelation about Duncan and Aurelia. In all of his encounters with Isabel, she had been cold and aloof. This was the first time he had seen her ever express any sort of sympathy.

"I thank you for you sympathies, and Lady Lanaya is correct on both accounts. There is a distinct likelihood that the assassin targeted Aurelia to prevent a mage from becoming queen. If this is the case then the perpetrator is likely a member of the church. They are the only organisation who have enough power to order such an assassination and the only known institute in Nyhem to regularly speak out against mages. Not to mention, the Grand Cleric died under suspicious circumstances recently, perhaps there is a link"?

Lana met Duncan's gaze with sympathy, though not apology. As far as she saw it, it was as much her secret to tell as his. She felt she stood in for her friend at this meeting. Fortunately the king seemed to have a good separation between his feelings and the thoughts, as he continued.

The idea that it was the church had certainly not escaped Lana's mind, but she was not so bold as to directly accuse them herself without knowing the manner in which her company would react. Religion made men do unpredictable things... even mages. Now that Duncan had brought the idea up though, she felt safe in pursuing it.

"They do seem a likely candidate. The hatred of mages present in the extreme elements of the church is strong enough to inspire such an attack... An investigation may be called for." She stated cautiously before continuing. "Of course it goes without saying that the vile house of Manshrew may have been behind this attack. They already struck at House Blackwell. Why not also strike at Aurelia in an effort to unbalance his majesty with grief?"

"Indeed, that is a fair point" Duncan said as he looked away from Lanaya. The truth was house Manshrew was quite low on the list of suspects; he knew that Andrew was too 'honorable' to order assassinations, despite being at war. From the perspective of everyone else however, house Manshrew would be the most likely candidate after what happened at Mercy, a fact that Duncan had forgotten. "However I still think it is more likely that the culprit is operating within Nyhem, meaning the church should be our main focus. I am particularly suspicious of Sir Lycaon, the man was almost certainly involved in the Grand Cleric's death. If he was capable of orchestrating her death then he likely had the means to kill Aurelia as well.

"From what I have heard of late." Lana began. "Sir Lycaon's influence has recently seen a meteoric rise. Do we know what he wants?" Lana knew very little about the religious knightly order he led, and had until now not considered them a threat.

"And furthermore, what can we do about him? The church cares little about the power of a Magister, or the opinion of the Circle as a whole. In fact, I dare say, if he had Aurelia killed, then I fear for my own life also." Though she made the statement with some genuine fear in her heart, she would not have said it solely as an emotional expression. She hoped that by making herself appear vulnerable here, she would gain some kind of extra concessions, perhaps for her own protection, perhaps for that of other mages in the city.

"Never worry my dear" Isabel responded "I doubt someone of your...position will be at much risk of being a target" Though it may have sounded like she was being reassuring, the slyness in her voice made it clear that she was having a jab at Lanaya's political status; as if to say she wasn't important enough for someone to send assassins after her. Duncan raised a eyebrow at this remark before responding himself

"That may change very soon sister" He said before turning to face Lanaya "I wish to offer you the now, vacant, position of Magisterial Advisor. As you are now aware you are one of the few people in this city I can...trust" Though Duncan used the word 'trust' he still remained suspicious of Lanaya. Though he was confident she had nothing to do with Aurelia's murder he was still clueless as to what her motives and intentions were.

Lana found Isabel's petty jabs at her both insulting and amusing. She had no idea of Lana's influence, or how much of a target she could soon be. The king’s offer however, took her a moment to process. It wasn't that it was unexpected - she was in a prime position to assume this role with Aurelia gone, as she had elaborated upon earlier. But she wasn't expecting it now, and she also had mixed feelings about accepting it.

"I am honored." Lana said, genuinely. "And I accept." It pained her to step into her friends role so quickly. She hadn't even finished mourning and already she was taking Aurelia's station at court. It felt wrong. But she had to do it. It would help her cause immensely.

"Though I wish it noted that I do so only because this position needs to be filled. It pains me that some will see it as opportunistically assuming a good friend's position so soon after her death.” Lana was genuine, and she thought it showed in her tone, but she also didn’t expect the currently assembled group to care overmuch.

"Of course I understand" Duncan said. Isabel looked away bitterly. She couldn't believe that Duncan was already giving Lanaya such a position of power after only recently being acquainted. Alex on the other hand looked more than happy to have a new member join the High council
"I look forward to working alongside you Lady Lanaya. I am sure you will do Lady Aurelia proud, wherever she is now" He said with a halfhearted smile "Perhaps now is a good time to discuss the Blackwell negotiations, it is a matter we cannot delay for much longer".

Lana noted Isabel's reaction. It was fairly clear now, that if anyone was going to prove difficult on this council, it was her. Lana ignored it for now. She did smile at Alex for his kind words though.

"Indeed." She said, placing the scroll case on the table and seeing about removing the treaty. "As you may know. I have just returned from Alenius... I'm afraid the news is mixed. I negotiated with Eli Blackwell, but I'm sad to say Giles Blackwell is quite determined to declare himself King of his own lands at the very least. This treaty primarily secures their aid against Manshrew, and secures them as an ally... for now."

She looked to Duncan then. "I apologize, your majesty, for my inability to secure all of your demands in these negotiations." She didn't much like that this would be her first impression to the council, but it was what it was. She was ready to defend her decisions with logic she believed infallible. After all, a two front war was the last thing the Concord needed right now.

Duncan let out a sigh as he spoke "The Blackwells are more stubborn than I predicted, how...disappointing. It would seem the Blackwells will soon be rivals in our attempts to unify Formaroth under one banner" namely the De Reimer one, Duncan thought to himself "However now that we have the support of both House Blackwell and House Wulfrick, our chances of victory against House Manshrew is a certainty. Providing Andrew doesn't find anymore allies to join his cause. I assume you still have the Blackwell treaty on you? Have it sent up to to my chambers so I can go over the details of our new alliance" Duncan paused for a moment as he furrowed his brow "While I have you here Lady Lanaya, I wish to speak with you in private regarding your new duties as the new Magisterial advisor".

As Duncan spoke, she quickly replaced the scroll in its case. "I did my best to ensure that the concessions granted to them would bleed them and give us the upper hand in the future. I'm sure you will be pleased." She sounded confident, but harbored far more apprehension about his reaction than she dared to admit to herself.

"I am happy to speak about my new duties, the sooner the better." She finished with, a hint of eagerness in her voice as the thought of future plans almost let her forget the terrible events of late.

"In which case the meeting is adjourned. I will keep everyone informed in case our spies uncover anything of interest about our suspects". Alenius and Ulf were the first to leave, what with being stood right by the door already. Ulf left without hesitation, clearly glad to be done with the meeting. Alex was the next to leave as he clumsily collected up the various scrolls of paper that he seemingly always brought around with him, before hurrying out the door. Isabel waited until everyone else had left before slowly getting up from her seat before looking at Lanaya. Surprisingly the look wasn't hostile or even unfriendly. Instead the look was one of curiosity, as much as Isabel hated to admit it, Lady Lanaya interested her for reasons she could not explain as of present. Finally Isabel turned and marched out the room, her footsteps echoing throughout the hall. The door had been left open, as Duncan rose from his chair with a sigh to close it. As he walked he started to talk

"I am not sure if she made any mention of this to you" He said as he gently closed the large wooden door "but before she passed away Aurelia was assisting High Magister Alice Budwin in a project that could revolutionize the use of magic here in Formaroth. Alice was able to find a way to store magic within an non-living object with no known side-effects, a feat that even the elves have been unable to achieve.

Lana was taken aback by that news. It was significant. A magical milestone of unprecedented import.

She was aghast, losing her composure momentarily... But then smiled, a playful smile. "She did not tell me... I believe the conversation turned to the subject of you before she could tell me that last we spoke." She sighed, remembering that happier time. So recent, yet it seemed so far away.

"I assume that you expect me to assist Alice with this as well? Of course I would be happy to. It would be my privilege to be involved in such ground breaking research."

"Indeed. In fact she shall be arriving here in Nyhem in a matter of days. You will be able to work with her personally. From what I gather from the last letter I received from her, she is most impressed with your work here in Nyhem and looks forward to working with you. Do you have any other questions regarding your new position"?

"No. Not at this time. If it is not too much trouble, I would prefer to remain at my current residence however. I cannot stomach taking Aurelia's room as well as her position." She bowed a little and turned to leave. Overall, that meeting had gone better than she ever could’ve hoped.

[Klomster]

Collab

Me, myself and Andrewcooper

Andrew was looking through the maps of the area, he was preparing himself for the next stage of the war. Suddenly a messenger hastily entered the tent.
"My Lord." said the messenger "I have news from Alan concerning the negotiations with the Wulfrick family."
Andrew reacted instantly to this, "Then let's hear it."
The Messenger readied himself "The Wulfrick family has turned down our offer and have joined The De Reimers in their war effort."
"Damn." said Andrew as he struck the table with his fist. The force sending a cup rolling off the table. Andrew realised that the alliance had lost a possible powerful ally. He then quickly responded "Very well then, send one of our emissaries to the Kingdom of Akki and offer an alliance to House Neptune. House Manshrew is willing to give them any land that we conquer in the war."
"Of course my Lord, I'll get to it straight away." said the Messenger as he exited the tent.

A few minutes later Lord Humber and the Lanistark twins entered the tent.
"Andrew." said Humber "You summoned us?"
"Yes I did" replied Andrew. "I want to talk to you all about our next plan of attack."
"What do you propose?" said Serala.
"We take Clarm." replied Andrew.
Both Humber and the twins were shocked to hear this.
"Are you sure about this Andrew. We only just won the previous battle to try and storm a city would be madness." said Humber in a worrying tone.
"My friends I know it sounds crazy but I know that together we can take the city. We need to fortify our forces if we stay out here might as well taunt our enemies to send their rain of fire onto us. With the city we would have supplies and shelter for our soldiers. It would also help with morale amongst the soldiers. Also it would give us a strong base to hold out in if the DeReimers decide to attack us."
Humber and the twins looked at each other still unwary of Andrew's decision but Humber gave a slight smile and said "Well it's not the craziest idea that you've concocted but House Humber stands with you till the very end."
Serala and Maror whispered amongst each other but then Serala turned to Andrew and said "Me and my brother at first didn't know what to think about you. But the way you held yourself and how you treat your men in the previous battle showed me that if anyone was to stand against the DeReimers it would be you and so House Lanistark still stand with you!"
"Thank you my friends." said Andrew who was happy to hear that his allies stood with him even with these odds.
"So how do you plan to take the city." said Humber.
"We will attack the city on two fronts. we will use siege towers to attack the walls and then use a battering ram to try and storm the city through the gates. We'll use the ransom money to gather the equipment needed for this. This will be a combined assault for the three of us if we want to take the city we have to be willing to sacrifice some of our men and I know that's hard to take but if we don't end this war soon then more people will die. I want a future that my children can grow up in, a world of peace rather than one that is ravaged by war."
"Very well, we'll start preparations for the assault" said Humber.
Humber and the twins left the tent. Leaving Andrew to his solitude.

The following few days the forces of the Manshrew alliance was setting up camps, portable walls and ladders for the siege. In the back a number of siege towers were being built as well as at least one battering ram. A few engineers and soldiers fell when they dared to close to the battlements to the Telmarian bowmen as they misjudged their enemies skill and range, but it did not deter the siege force.

Claus was disappointed, Grandin had only spared roughly half the bowmen of what Claus had asked for, a measly fifty or so archers. Luckily he himself had a greater number of crossbowmen, whom were also better suited for siege warfare than bows, albeit moreso from the outside.
He gazed upon the enemy camp from the gate, he liked to be in the midst of it all, to feel the same things his men felt. And it wasn't just a show-off that he cared for his men, something which he actually did. But it was a strangely soothing and exhilarating feeling at the same time.

A trumpet blow followed by a procession with white flags suddenly emerged. So they thought to parley ey? Claus thought.
He let the order spread, do not shoot, then he made sure he'd meet the messenger in person.
To his displeasure, Andrew was not in the procession, the diplomat spoke.
-"I am here on behalf of Lord Andrew Manshrew of Uzgob, leader of the Manshrew alliance. I have been tasked to offer your forces the option to surrender. Do you accept?" The diplomat was a serious type, no doubt. Claus answered.
-"Sadly i don't really do the surrender thing, at least not when i think i can win. So i'll have to decline. Also, i assume that dear Andrew won't surrender and go back home either?" Claus smirked at the end, the diplomat clearly annoyed that this brute spoke of his lord in such a comely manner.
-"You know that such a proposition on your side is considered an insult to lord Mansrew? And of course, NO is the answer." A hint of irritation in the diplomats voice.
-"Well then i guess the negotiations are finished, say g'day to Andy from me!" Claus said grinning, now just messing with the man for the sake of it. Followed shortly by simply leaving after a gesticulated tip of the hat.
The diplomat held his temper like the professional he was and returned his procession to his own camp to give lord Andrew the news.

In the meantime Claus met up with Roogel, Katrina and a few of the other lieutenants of the Steel fist.
-"So, any more tricks you've spotted them doing?" Claus asked the group. Followed with the lumbering voice of Roogel.
-"We have spotted the construction of another siege tower, we have not yet spotted any sappers or any visible indications of a digging camp, but we'll keep looking."
-"Excellent." Claus exclaimed, followed by.
-"Just make sure to be ready the moment sappers are spotted, so we can commence a counter dig." Claus words were followed by a few nods and yes sirs.
-"Looking at their equipment, it seems they are going for a storming. I myself is honestly surprised they didn't go for ladders seeing the DeReimer forces are soon to start sniffing them up the arse, but i also get that Andrew likes to have a good shot at taking the city in one single assault."
A few nods and comments came from his lieutenants in agreement.
-"Well then, i suppose this meeting is done for now, to your posts!" Claus finished off, the others hurrying off to different locations.

The Steel fist was back to over two thousand men, something he was pleased with. The entire battle claiming surprisingly few of his men. Had he suffered as badly as the Telmarian militia he might have been forced to disband the company, a massive blow to his ego and respect.
Luckily, he didn't have to and he looked the the professional troopers in his command stationed perfectly as to repel a siege, crossbowmen at the walls, supported by infantrymen. A reserve force ready in the city and with a retreat plan were they all forced to disengage and go into the keep itself, where they could hold far longer than holding the entire city.
But Claus wanted to hold the city, for it meant he'd have access to its resources, should he forced into the keep, there was a limit to how much food he could stockpile in there, but he'd already stockpiled as much as was reasonable.

As a few days past, it came to be the 9th day of the siege. The time Claus had hoped would not happen happened, Claus hoped that Andrew would just tire and walk off, leaving his forces alone.
But no, the siege towers began to rumble into positions, the ladders were hefted and the ram was brought forth.

It mattered not, a wall held by the Steel fist would never fall, regardless of the aggressor. That was the thought process going through Claus mind.
He had given the speeches already, it mattered little anyway, the fist was as motivated as it could be.
He didn't really know why they were so dedicated, perhaps it was because that they were lowlives scum and assholes, given a second shot at life within an ordered army unit, perhaps it was because they were making history? Their every action forming the history of Formaroth?
Or perhaps it was the money?
Whom was he fooling, it was the money. The massive grand pile of money that Patrik was gonna pay them. Claus laughed slightly, he almost thought his men were honorable there for a second.
-"What's so funny Steel head?" One of the troopers asked, to Claus happy surprise it was the same one as from spending the night in the royal dungeon in Nyhem.
-"I believed for a second we worked for something grander than money." Grinning broadly Claus answered.
-"Well, boss, i'd say we do it for the parties." The trooper smugly remarked, Claus licked his teeth without opening his mouth and then with a smirk answered.
-"You got me there, money means nothing without parties, drinks and WOMEN!!" Claus shouted the last part, and the troopers responded with a cheer. From somewhere a female voice cheered.
-"For me, wooo!!" Followed with a few snickers and chuckles, even Claus couldn't avoid joining in.
-"You never cease to amaze me how much filthy swine we are! Now let's send Andy packing so we can get to more important business!!!" Claus boomed out, followed by his troopers pumping their right fists towards the foe and going "Who ha!" Thrice in tandem.
With that Claus raised his war horn and blew as strongly and long as he could muster.
He didn't think it would mean much, but if at least one enemy remembered the sound of the horn of the steel head, just one enemy faltered for a moment in hesitation, it would be worth it.
And Claus was also a sucker for pretentious acts.

In moments Ashala boomed out.
-"All right, weapons ready! Give em hail!"
The order set into motion the almost mechanical motion of rolling fire so drilled into the crossbowmen of the fist that Claus at times thought they could do it while sleeping.
Arbalest bolts were flung with great accuracy, in volleys carefully planned so that half the men fired as the other reloaded, making an almost constant barrage of missiles strike the target instead of more seldom bursts. The men at the ram were being subjected to a murderous amount of fire and its movement was halted. With a crack, a tower mounted ballista released its payload followed by a few others. Launching poorly balanced iron rods into the bases of the siege towers, trying to spread out the damage as much as possible.
Something old Doroka Hawk had taught him back in the days, the rods are used against machines. Spreading out the damage. It was effective as well.
One rod smashing into the troops pushing one of the towers with enough force to topple everyone pushing at that side, dismembering bodies and sending a few arms flailing into the air. Their screams could even be heard up on the battlements.
Another rod smashed dead into a support beam of a tower, giving it a massive jolt which broke one of its wheels. Men began to quickly shield workers so they could repair the damage.
In the meantime, Telmarian archers worked as snipers trying to hamper the work of the enemy. One putting an arrow in the neck of a Manshrew soldier whom were giving orders. Clasping his throat, he fell and disappeared in the sea of soldiers moving in from behind. The men keeping behind shields at a long distance, but which they had miscalculated, within the range of the elite bowmen.

Soon, the Manshrew archers were within range and began their volley barrages, albeit not very effective, a few of the massive amount of arrows hit home. Often bouncing harmlessly of an armour or getting stuck in the shield on the back of a trooper winding his crossbow.
Still, a few took out the men of the fist. But it did not deter their motivation.
A horn in the besieging force was silenced mid-blow by a precise arrow, albeit putting out a murdering volley, the attackers obviously had numbers on their side.
As the ram was almost at the gate, a drum-roll was sounded by the attackers and with a momentous roar hundreds of soldiers charged the wall with storm-ladders, leaving spaces for where the siege towers would be.

It was here the battle would turn more grim, buckets of boiled water and sand was emptied as soldiers were climbing the ladders, others were ignored until a number of attackers were almost up, and with a heave of a few fists-men, the ladder was pushed back so far it either toppled over the opposite direction or fell sideways with men still clinging on.
Crashes, screams, sickening crunches and stabs flowed into each other forming the cacophony of war.
Claus moved to the gatehouse, from it a sickening stench was felt as a massive pot was heated to a boil. He had almost heaved the first time he'd smelled the like.
The contents of the latrines from the last few days, brought to a boil. A present for the foe.
Inside holes in the ground Claus could see the ram brought to the gate. Claus was delighted, albeit not visually since he'd joined his men in tying cloth around his lower face to try and keep some of the stench out.
But also that his enemy had not spotted his trap.
-"Drop the portcullis!" Claus boomed out, one of his troopers stood up, ran to the gate controls and kicked a latch which sent the chain roll to unleash at a deafening rate with an equally deafening sound.
The men at the gate had barely any time to react when the hoisted portcullis fell down with tremendous force, crushing and impaling those unfortunate ones whom were under its path, trapping the ram in the gate room.
From above the last thing those within heard was Claus booming out.
-"Pour!!!" Men poured the boiling feces down the holes unto the poor sods trapped beneath. The screams would add to Claus's future nightmares.
Not able to stand the stench, while also needing to be in another place, Claus left the gatehouse. The crackle of ballistas launching regular shots into the enemy ranks echoing above.
Luckily for Andrew, he had another, albeit unroofed ram to bring down the portcullis with, which was now being brought up

Despite the seemingly supernatural efforts of the defenders, the siege towers came into place, the first close to where Claus was positioned.
Their steady advance thanks to their commanders determinations.
Ashala had already formed four man groups to keep those now getting over the ladders at bay. Two pavises forming mini shield walls with two halberdiers supporting from behind. Ruthlessly cutting down those climbing the ladders before they were able to gain a foothold.
However, with the siege tower moments from dropping the drawbridge onto the battlements Claus sounded a horn call.
With skillful movement, most of the four man groups managed to reposition into a bigger group, forming a deadly shieldwall where the siege tower was to unleash its cargo while also forming up so that Manshrew forces couldn't just run at them from behind. Shieldwalls blocking their path.
With a creak and a thud, the drawbridge fell. In the distance Claus could hear Roogels bugle. After the thud though, the sound was exchanged for the battlecry of the charging Manshrew soldiers whom finally had managed to get atop the wall.
To their displeasure, Steel fist maces and halberd worked overtime, initially halting the charge altogether.

Claus saw his chance, he grabbed his sword in a halfswording stance and with a roar ran through his line, smashing into the Manshrew's, knocking them back. With what could be mistaken for maddened hacking and smashing, Claus skillfully forced the attackers momentarily back.
-"STEP!!!" Claus roared, and with a simultaneous shout the line behind him stepped forth unto the drawbridge and put up the line there.
A soldier ran at Claus whom managed to stab the parrying hook into his stomach while also getting the crossguard between his legs, giving enough leverage to lift the man using his momentum against him and fling him off the side of the drawbridge with a roar.
Panting, Claus stepped back into his line, which neatly let him through so he could rest a while in safety before beginning to use his sword as a spear.
There was no denying it, his trick did much in delaying the inevitable, but the push from the enemy forced the line backwards. Step by step, metre by metre.

After nearly an hour of battle, the battle line which Claus and his men held had been pushed back along the wall almost to the walls reinforced door leading to the keep. The Manshrew forces fighting in the streets as the castle defenders retreat towards the keep, step by slow step.

Claus gazed upon the now proper opposing battle-line upon the wall, sure it was rather tight up there but now the enemy had more numbers than him and could make use of it. This was bad.
His mind had slipped, a Manshrew trooper got in a good hit with his sword on Claus's helm, he fell down and was dazed, tired and helpless. The world seemed to move in slow motion.
The reinforced door was only a few yards behind him and from inside he heard how some of his men called for him, but he could barely move.
It was then he heard the terrible roar, not from a frenzied man, but a crazed woman. Still as terrifying, he saw a Steel fist lieutenant with long auburn hair charging in with another trooper at her side, it was around here he realized that it was Ashala.
He could do nothing but stretch his arm towards her and wish her to stop as she charged into the enemy formation with such force that the men in the front rank fell over. But it was to no avail for her scream ended abruptly mid-charge as a blade sent blood flying from her neck in a wide arc above the enemy formation, temporarily making Claus imagine what the rainbows in the realm of Hystix looked like.
She dropped her corseque and violently grabbed a pair Manshrew troopers while she toppled over the battlements with her foes. One moment she was there, the next... gone.
Claus felt he was being dragged away from the enemy, his troopers saving him from being swarmed by enemies, Ashala having sacrificed herself to save him. Or whatever other motivation she could have had.

As the door was closed, the loud bang of the Manshrew forces reaching it brought Claus back to the real world. The speed of the world was back to normal as he managed to stand up with some help.
After some thought he realized he was now actually inside the keep of Clarm. After asking around he figured out that the city had not held, now however the keep remained.
Which is where the true might of this fortification stands.

s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/34/e..

[TheDuncanMorgan]

The day's end had arrived and the last rays of sunlight were growing dimmer every minute. The various candles in Duncan's chamber had already been lit, illuminating the room. There was a chill in the air and Duncan wished that he had asked his servant to light the fireplace. It would appear summer had finally ended and Autumn had begun; the days were getting shorter and the weather colder. As usual Duncan was sat at his desk with a bottle of wine open on the table. Duncan's drinking habit had increased even more so of late, however given the circumstances that was to be expected. Aurelia hadn't been the first lover he had lost, but that didn't make dealing with her demise any easier. The door to his chamber opened, judging there was only one person in the keep who would dare enter the kings chambers without knocking first Duncan knew who it was immediately.

"Drinking alone brother" Isabel said with a smile as she walked up to his desk with a smile "A dangerous habit to get into"

"Well I'm not drinking alone anymore am I" Duncan said with a weak smile as he offered his sister the bottle. Isabel took it from him before pouring it into a empty glass that was on the table and took a seat. "What brings you at this time sister"? Duncan always enjoyed talking to his sister on his own. It was the only time he ever saw the more pleasant side of her personality. While most of the De Reimer family had issues with trust, Isabel took it to an extreme. Only when she was with her family did she feel she could let her guard down.

"I wanted to see how you were. I knew Lady Aurelia was close to you, but you never told me she was a lover" Isabel said half sympathetic half hurt. She didn't like it when her brothers kept things from her, however she knew that her feelings were not the priority right now. "I hoped I could help you in someway"

"I fear there isn't much you can do sister" Duncan said as he took another drink from his glass "Aurelia is dead, and all we can do is avenge her. Not that vengeance means much for the dead" Duncan replied glumly

"Perhaps not. But it means something for the living, and if finding the culprit helps bring you peace I will do everything in my power to do so" Isabel said as she took a large gulp of wine from her goblet, drinking half the wine in one go.

"Thank you sister. Though it may not bring me peace, I know vengeance will definitely make me feel better" Duncan said with a sadistic smile. He knew this for a fact. "If you don't mind I would prefer not to talk of Aurelia any further tonight" Duncan said as he continued to drink. In response Isabel finished the second half of her wine in one go before pouring herself more from the bottle. Isabel had the habit of 'gulping' down wine rather than sipping it. Duncan had no idea why she did this but for some reason he found it amusing.

"I understand brother. Though if you don't mind me asking, why do you trust Lady Lanaya so much? From what I gather you hardly know the woman and now you are placing her on the high council. I would deem such a move foolish"

"I do not trust Lady Lanaya, I simply know she was not responsible for Aurelia's murder. For a start she was in Alenius when the murder took place, as well as the fact she had nothing to gain from Aurelia's death" Though this was only part of the truth. What had really convinced Duncan was how Layana reacted that night in the crypts, the pain in her eyes and voice was genuine, he had no doubt about that. "And given how close she was to Aurelia she will be just as determined as I am to find whoever was responsible". Isabel nodded her head though it was clear she wasn't convinced. Duncan decided it might be in his best interest to change the subject. "So dear sister, I take it you are looking forward to your marriage" He said teasingly. Isabel's face turned sour

"Exhilarated" She replied dryly "I cannot wait to be wedded to some Wulfrick Churl. I suppose I should be thankful I am the one who gets to keep the family name" she sighed "not that I would have agreed to the marriage otherwise. Tell me do you know which Wulfrick I am marrying, I haven't been informed yet".

"Cerlina tells me that you will be marrying Smaragdus's youngest; Goodwin. From what I hear he isn't all to happy with his family for marrying him off" this piece of news caught Isabel's attention

"Interesting. Perhaps we can use this to turn him against his family and 'convince' him he has more in common with his new family than he might think"

"Indeed, hopefully we will be able persuade him to view himself as a De Reimer. And if not well, you only need to see him on formal occasions" Duncan finished with a smile "besides your not the only one getting married, Patrick will be married to Naomi Blackwell once this war has ended. From what I hear about the Blackwell women, our dear brother may have finally of met his match" He said as he laughed alongside his sister. This had been the first time he had laughed since Aurelia death.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Duncan and Isabel continued to talk until they finally finished the bottle of wine. With that Isabel stood up, a little bit shaker that she had been when she first came in. "I believe we have spoken for long enough, I shall retire to my chamber for the night"

"Very well sister. And thankyou, for everything" Duncan said with a tipsy smile. Isabel nodded in response before heading towards the door. Just before she left however an item located atop one of the rooms dressers caught her eye, and she picked it up with curiosity. As Duncan glanced over he saw it was the mace that mercenary captain, Claus, had given to him on his coronation day.

"A bit unusual for you to have this sort of thing in your room" Isabel said

"It was one of the few gifts from my coronation that I actually liked. Besides what with..." Duncan suddenly stopped mid sentence. After a few seconds pause he slowly stood up and made his way towards a clearly confused Isabel. He took the mace from his sisters hands as he studied the braided leather hoop at the end. He hadn't noticed it till now, but there was no mistake. The style of the braid was unique to only one person, and they had been dead for years.

[Kho]

Aulus Granus, 9th Baron Eskandar

Lord of Castle Cramz

Post Summary

Ian and Dilys, along with a few hundred Mazeltof knights, have withdrawn from the Kingdom of Orog to Castle Calchester in Humber territory
Aulus watches them enter
He is eventually persuaded to go him by the barkeeper, Sikak
When he gets there, he is pulled into a meeting with Hemala, Maerya, Dilys and Ian
It turns out that Orog has been over-run by Wulfrick and Greensworth forces led by Erock and Aureus.
Hemala suggests that they could hold out in Castle Calchester, but the Mazeltof siblings - as well as Maerya - support a complete withdrawal towards the Alliance's main force
Aulus embarrasses himself by not paying attention
Maerya is particularly harsh towards him, leading to an outburst
He declares that he will not be leaving with them
Though Hemala tries to persuade him to leave, he insists on staying in Calchester

The Imperial forces arrive two weeks later and enter Calchester
The town is placed on lockdown and one of the guys who frequents the tavern leads them to Aulus
Aulus makes his drunken, rooftop escape - to the castle itself!
Turns out there aren't that many Imperial soldiers around, and so he swiftly goes to his room where he takes his sword belt
Two soldiers storm into the room, and Aulus manages to take them out
Taking his bow and quiver, he escapes through a secret passageway
As he does so, our brave hero bravely says: 'Shit shit shit shit.'

_{Castle Calchester, 503 A.R}

The weary force of riders - coming at a few hundred - rode through the great gates of Castle Calchester. The steeds muddied and clearly worn out, their riders did not look to be in much better shape. They were met by a few Humber riders who ushered them through the streets towards the impregnable fortress at the centre of the sprawling castle-town.
'Who're they?' Aulus asked Harik, a blacksmith who frequented Aulus' favourite tavern.
'Mazeltof,' the blacksmith grunted.
'Who?' Aulus asked. The middle-aged man gave Aulus a sidelong glance.
'You pullin' my leg boy? I said they's Mazeltof. News of their retreat from Orog came weeks ago. We're next, tha's for sure.' Aulus nodded slowly.
'Orog...that's...err,' he thought for a few seconds, 'that's the castle right?' Pushing the boy aside with an irritated grunt, the blacksmith made his way back to his smithy - he had no time to be teaching little boys what any idiot could see on a map. He paused and turned back to Aulus.
'Boy, it'll be your likes that get it when the Imperials get 'ere. They say that Erock Greensworth and Aureus Wulfrick are leading that force here.'
'Who're they?' Aulus asked with a slight yawn.
'They's death boy, that's who. You don't wanna be here when they get here.' Nodding distractedly, Aulus turned away and fought his way through the crowds until he could slip into an empty alleyway and head off towards the tavern. It was still early in the afternoon, so Grun and the others wouldn't be there. But Sikak the barkeeper, who also owned the establishment, was always fun to tease - and his daughter Ani was sweet on the eyes!

'What's this, you ain't gone yet?' the large man asked when Aulus walked in.
'Gone?' the young man asked as he took a seat before him, 'where should I be going? Is something good happening?'
'Yeaah, somethin' good's happenin' for sure you nitwit - didn't you see them escapin' Mazeltofs? Dontcha know what happened to 'em?'
'Oh yeah, Harik told me. Something about death coming and some castle Orog and whatnot,' Aulus shrugged, 'what do I care for these things?' Sikak frowned and leaned in as he scrubbed at a cup.
'Look 'ere now Aulus, yer a smart lad. You know what'll happen if Calchester falls to the Imperials, dontcha?' Aulus frowned.
'Eh...Daeron comes out and gives them what's coming to them? There isn't anybody what can stand before him when he gets angry! And with Hemala swinging that mace around, by golly! Everything will be back to normal in a jiffy. You people worry about all this stuff too much - just relax. Where's Ani anyway?'
'Come now Aulus, get back home. I'll betcha things are topsy-turvy up there now. Yer sister's probably lookin' all over fer you,' Aulus frowned and nodded slightly - he clearly wasn't going to relax and leave him be. The older waved him off and Aulus reluctantly left. Maybe he should go back home and check to make sure everything was alright. Daeron had been gone a fair while, after all, and he had noticed Hemala increasingly worried state - not that she bothered to confide in him when it came to matters of importance. She knew well that Aulus had no knowledge or opinion on such matters - and that, in addition, he did not truly care much about them.

The castle was alive with the neighing of horses and the low hum of men speaking in hushed tones. The retreat from Orog had clearly shaken the Mazeltof knights so much that even when they reached the safety of Calchester they could not quite bring themselves to speak up.
'My Lord!' Aulus turned at the familiar sound of Godric's voice, 'my lord! By the gods! Where have you been?' the skinny, balding old man rushed towards Aulus and quickly drove him indoors. He took the young man by the arm and guided him into a dark room - only the orange light of the fire revealed the others standing within. Aulus immediately recognised Hemala and the head advisor, Lady Maerya Bernalys. Aulus looked at the two strangers - a man and a woman.
'Aulus, come, sit here,' Hemala gestured for him to take a seat. Confused, Aulus looked towards Godric who huffed in annoyance and gently - but firmly - pushed the young man into the seat. Aulus was simply confused - Hemala never invited him to any of these "meetings" and whatnot. Maybe things were not fine after all? 'This is Dilys Mazeltof, and this is her brother, Ian Mazeltof,' Hemala told Aulus, 'they have just retreated from the Kingdom of Orog, which has now been over-run by Wulfrick and Greensworth Imperial forces. It is almost certain that they will soon march on us.' Aulus pursed his lips and decided it was best that he maintain his silence, else his general ignorance would become manifest.
'That damned Erock has been doggedly pursuing us since the fall of Fishgrove. He-he...killed Godwyn,' it was the woman, Dilys, who spoke. In the low light, Aulus finally got a good look at the two of them. The woman was rather small and appeared delicate. Her green eyes and blond hair came together to give her a rather pleasing appearance overall. Her brother, Ian, was taller than her. Like her, he had a shock of blond hair and piercing green eyes which were lighter than Aulus' - but even Aulus could see that the man was stunningly beautiful. If there was not so much sadness in his eyes and face, Aulus would have taken him for the merry sort - just the kind of person he'd enjoy a night of drinking and brawling with.
'We thought we could hold off in Orog until help arrived, but our men broke on seeing how severely outnumbered we were - there must have been seventy-thousand Imperials, if not more. They'll be here soon. We must escape before it's too late.' It was Ian who spoke this time. Hemala shook her head.
'No, there must be a way. Castle Calchester is impregnable, we can hold out for years if we have to.' Ian and Dilys looked to each other doubtfully.
'Lady Humber, with all due respect, we were there at Fishgrove. We know what they are capable of. Unless you can summon forth an army of warriors and powerful mages to defend Calchester, then we stand no chance and will be dying here in vain. We have lost all our family to them, we cannot lose anymore.' Ian looked from Hemala to Maerya unstintingly, 'our only hope is to withdraw, unite with the rest of the Alliance's forces, and advance from there. Else we'll be picked off one by one and all will be lost.' Dilys was silent, but Maerya turned to Hemala said it without mincing words.
'We have no chance winning if we are besieged here. If they have mages, then Calchester will fall within days, if not hours.' Hemala's eyes widened at this and she frowned. Furrowing her brows she turned to Aulus.
'Aulus, what do you think? Do you agree with this running away business?' Aulus had slightly zoned out as they talked and quickly sat up when his name was mentioned.
'Wha- run away? Me? Never!' he said quickly, 'I mean, uh. Maybe, sometimes. If Grun is really angry.' Hemala frowned and Maerya gave Aulus a censorious look. He bit his lower lip and looked down in embarrassment, 'sorry...I...zoned out a bit.' Sighing, Hemala turned back to the others.
'Look, most of the Humber forces are with my father. However, if we send word out to our remaining strongholds - which will fall to the Imperial advance if left where they are - and have them come here, then we can make a stand and repel the Imperial forces. If we get reinforcements, we may even be able to push back into Orog and retake what has been lost.' Hemala looked at the other three who were clearly unconvined. She made to turn back to Aulus for support, but very swiftly changed her mind. He surprised her by speaking out anyway.
'Don't worry, I was listening this time, promise.' Hemala pursed her lips and looked pleadingly to Maerya for support. The woman shook her head.
'I'm sorry Hemala , the risk is too high. We should send word to them all and tell them to retreat towards the main force. Lord Humber wrote to us some time back about the severe losses they incurred. Perhaps if we withdraw to the main force we will not only strengthen it, but also ensure victory at the next battle. All will be for naught if the main force is lost.' Ian and Dilys made clear their agreement and Hemala slumped in defeat.
'Hey now, there must be some way to hold on to Calchester,' Aulus interjected, getting up. Ian and Dilys looked to one another and managed to withhold their smiles. The situation may have been miserable, but this bumbling fool was providing some much-needed entertainment.
'I think...' Maerya interrupted, 'we can do just fine without your input, Lord Eskandar.' Aulus quickly nodded, shut his mouth, and sat back down. Ian just about stifled a laugh. Aulus shot him an affronted look, but said nothing. 'We will begin our preparations for a withdrawal immediately, then,' Maerya said. Hemala nodded reluctantly and the Mazeltof siblings smiled in approval.
'I'm not going anywhere,' came Aulus' voice. Maerya frowned.
'It's not up to you,' the older woman said firmly, 'it is in all of our interests to join the main force.'
'Don't care. Not going anywhere.' Aulus said, crossing his arms and looking away.
'Stop being a child!' Maerya snapped. Aulus looked at her angrily and stood up.
'Then stop treating me like one!' and with that, he stormed out of the room. Ian and Dilys looked to one another again, eyebrows raised. Maerya sighed and looked to Godric who bowed quickly and went after Aulus. Hemala could not help the small, satisfied smile on her face. Maybe there was yet some hope for her adoptive brother.

***

The Imperials forces, led by Erock Greensworth, entered Castle Calchester some weeks later without raising a sword. It was nighttime when they entered and the castletown was swiftly placed on lockdown as Imperial forces searched the castle for any potential enemies of the king. Hemala and the others had escaped weeks before. But try though they did, none could convince Aulus to leave.
'Aulus, this is serious. If you stay the will kill you,' Hemala had told him. He had shrugged.
'This is my home, I'm not leaving.' She had looked away guiltily - she had never known Aulus to be so attached to the castle.
'If you leave now, at the very least you will live to return. Please, come with us Aulus. Father needs you by his side - he will be so happy if you took up the sword and fought with him.' But Aulus shook his head.
'It's not my fight, Hemala. I'm going to the tavern.' And he had turned away to leave. But she caught him by the arm and hugged him tightly.
'Please Aulus, stay alive,' he had withheld his tears.
'Yeah, you too...' and without another word she had turned away and departed. They had sent word to all the remaining Humber strongholds telling them to withdraw to the Alliance's main force. If they arrived in time, they may well provide Lord Humber and the others with the reinforcements they needed to be victorious in their next battle - or, failing that, to survive at the least.

For his part, Aulus had spent the majority of the previous few weeks either half drunk, watching people pack up and leave, or getting shouted at by old man Sakik for not leaving when he had the chance. And now the Imperial forces had arrived and escape was nigh impossible.
'Ye're a bloody idiot if ever I saw one!' Sakik hissed to him.
'Jus' gimme another drink damnit,' Aulus slurred.
'You know how many people who come 'ere will be more 'an 'appy to sell you to them for some coin? By the gods, they'll be at the door any minute! You need to get the bloody 'ell out!'
'Damnit old man, just shush and gimme anoth-'
The door of the tavern flew open and a bedraggled man stepped in.
'Tha's 'im!' he shouted, 'that's the Humber boy!'
'Shit!' Sakik hissed.
Aulus turned with a dazed look. 'Where?' he asked incredulously.
'He means you, notwit!' Sakik shoved him with a finger, 'get away damnit!'
'Oh,' Aulus muttered, 'okay.' And as the soldiers struggled to stream into the crowded tavern, Aulus stumbled for the stairs and did his best to take them two at a time. At the top, Ani poked her head from one of the doors and gestured for him to come quickly. Aulus smiled drunkenly.
'Knew you wanted me,' he giggled before running towards her. She rolled her eyes and shoved him inside before the closing the door behind him. He banged against the door from the inside.
'Oi, what are you doin'?' he asked.
'Get going!' she hissed, 'they'll be up here any minute!'
'Oh, oh yeah, sorry.' Aulus turned around and ran to the window. Opening it, he leapt easily onto the roof just below the window and closed it behind him. Though the night was dark and he was drunk, he had made the same escape enough times to know where to put his feet. Clambering along the rooftops, he made his way back to the castle in the middle of the castletown. With soldiers everywhere, the only way to escape was through one of the secret passageways leading from the castle to the outside. Sneaking in through the open gate proved fairly easy - the Imperial soldiers appeared to have searched the place already, and finding no one, they had left a rather lax guard on the place.

Making swiftly for his room, Aulus grabbed his swordbelt and wrapped it around himself - checking his trusty rapier before tucking a knife in for good measure. Just as he was about to make his escape, he remembered the bow and quiver that Daeron had got him for his eighteenth birthday. Daeron had always insisted that Aulus join him on hunts and he had seen fit to gift his adoptive son with a fine composite bow and quiver. Aulus stepped back and scanned the room for them, and even as he did he could hear footsteps and voices.
'Yeah...saw someone...in...' Aulus swiftly made his way towards the door and hid beside it, slowly drawing his sword. The door flew open and two men charged in. They did not see Aulus who was now behind the door.
'Check under the bed,' one of them commanded. As he did so, Aulus allowed the door to swing shut and, before either realised his presence, his blade shot forward with lightning speed and precision through the man's neck. He grunted and fell to the ground as Aulus pulled the blade loose and prepared to take on the remaining soldier - who had already begun shouting to alert anyone within hearing distance. Scowling, Aulus leapt forward and brought his rapier to the man's neck.
'W-wait-' he managed before Aulus opened it up and blood streamed out. It took him a while to die, and Aulus did not wait around to see it. Wiping his blade on the bedsheets, he quickly took the bow and quiver and ran towards the fireplace. He was soon making a swift escape through the secret passageways of Castle Calchester.
'Shit shit shit shit,' he could be heard muttering.