GourmetItalia — Roleplayer Guild

Late Evening - Voltas Docks

The smell. The smell was the worst part. Onatha could handle the odd noises the bodies were making as they began decomposing. She was able to tolerate the odd feel of the bodies. The smell however she was unable to get used to.

Her stomach was clenching. It felt like it was seeping into her clothes, into her skin.

Onatha didn’t move. Not a muscle. Her eyes were closed and she tried to force her mind to think about something else.

The only thing she could picture was her past. She had no idea what was going on, she was barely coming to terms with being woken up in a time so very, very unlike her own. Now she lay in a cart with dead bodies.

She opened her eyes to see Lucius moving. Onatha followed him out, picking her way carefully out of the cart. She reached out to lightly grasp his sleeve.

The touch proved enough to provok the Prince's rapid reaction and upon glancing towards his companion found himself gripping his sword. Smiling weakly, Lucius glared towards the assembled Paighan squadrons and Crown Watchmen before he placed another hand along her shoulders. The dim torch light had only offered momentarily respite towards those crowding along the wharfs, however, the overwhelming violence and audible noise had quickly engulfed the surrounding districts.

Lucius' composure remained calm as he spotted a familiar sight within the pitched and scuffling mobs. The ashen faced young father he'd witnessed earlier stood amongst the dangerous Valanian throngs and as the two ethnic mobs tore each other apart, the father rapidly moved through their ranks. A short moment later, the Prince watched in earnest as the man retrieved a large rock before hurling it towards a crowd of common Sarifens. As the rock struck its mark, a Sarifen man fell, provoking the father's curses as he retrieved additional rocks. Blood poured down the Sarifen victim's face and as he completely collapsed, another man carrying a lifeless girl took his place. Vengeance seared through the Sarifen's face and in retaliation, he too hurled a rock back towards the mob. The renewed commotions forcefully escalated the conflicts and in provoked other Valanians to join the fray. Several hurled rocks later, the mobs swelled as more and more Valanians and Sarifens broke away to join their fellow comrades.

“This is madness, Ona,” Lucius voiced as he moved to reload his pistols, “I pray your people shall never turn on each other as they do here ...”

Horns immediately blew and in the din of conflicts, a heavily armed group of dismounted Zhayedans burst into the conflict in an attempt to drive a wedged between the crowds. at the assembled infantry lines' forefront stood an authoritative dark skinned young man surrounded by other idenfiable soldiers carrying strangely blunted weapons. It did not require a scholar to understand the severities plaguing the former capital. Death came at every corner if executions did not full factor into an invidual's demise, surely the miniscule food, and the starving mobs would. The dockyards had exploded beyond control and tensions remained heated as the food stockpiles quickly dwindled before the last crates emptied.

“What utter madness have you wrought upon this city, Bahramesh,” the Prince silently jeered as he quickly unholstered both pistols. Several nearby horses had begun to rear as the commotion and shouting frightened their senses and through the commotion, their hooves reared before trampling several hapless street goers. The sight of Sarife's Imperial Prince had obviously raised questions as to his presence and it was beyond Lucius to debate Prince Bahramesh's presence within Voltas. Turning, Lucius scowled as his attempts to locate another opening brought him at odds with the moving crowds.

“Ona," the Prince quietly addressed, "I fear if we don't find a way out of the docks, we may not survive the night. Keep off the streets, stay close to me, keep your sword on hand. Can you do this?”

Onatha gripped the back of Lucius' shirt. She looked around, fear in her green pupil-less eyes.

"My people are all gone." She didn't want to think on her people and what had come of them.

She nodded to his instructions. Her hand flexed on the sword. "I can do that." The easiest part would be staying close to him. She was struggling not to feel so overwhelmed. The smell of death was still in her nose and it would not leave. Ona's chin quivered a little but she swallowed and followed Lucius.

The docks creaked and groaned from so many bodies trampling the wharf front and with so many hungry bodies, many began to turn on the few fortunate souls that had retrieved the paltry food. Lucius watched helplessly as various Valanian mobbers fell upon a young Sarifen boy as he carried a large fish. The boy cried for mercy, yet received none as the others continually bludgeoned him. Cursing, Lucius impulsively rushed into the crowds and unsheathed his sword as one mobber raised a cleaver to strike. A clang of steel rang as he effortlessly parried the man's potential killing blow. The boy cowered in terror as the Prince burst through the crowd and dodged various mobbers, whilst whirling his sword into wide swinging arcs. Frightened, the large crowds back away as Lucius continually swung in a maddening radius surrounding the boy's location. Whilst swinging madly, his head turned as several mobbers rushed his rear, bladed weapons poised to strike ...

Onatha was focused on Lucius and his movement towards the boy. She ran behind him avoiding the wild swings of his blade. She too had heard the boy, saw the crowd turn on him.

She raised her blade, standing at Lucius' back. Onatha raised the blade higher as several attackers that were approaching Lucius from behind. "Do not! Do not come any closer!"

Ona yelled at them as they came closer. She swung her blade out at them causing to back up a little. She stared at them, eyes wide. It caused a few to stare at her. Green flashed.

"Leave the boy alone!" She warned them. The mob began to murmur. The word 'witch' could be heard. Onatha was breathing hard. She looked over her shoulder at Lucius. "We must do something..."

Several hapless mobbers burst into the vicinity, weapons raised only to find a maddened young man blunt their every assault. One man not more than the Prince's age, narrowly brushed under a well aimed swing, and through the pitched battles erupting across the streets. In rapid fashion, the mobber's desperate eyes narrowed upon the boy and the large fish laying near his feet. Through fierce shouts, the man's long knife flashed into the light and in a spur of the moment, Lucius' eyes widened upon noticing the intended victim.

“Ona, look out,” Lucius bellowed as the man rushed towards his companion with relative impunity. Frantically, the Prince burst through a throng of mobbers and leaped into the blade's path as the man drove his knife home. What followed came in a flash of pain and upon finding searing numbing agony enter his body, he instantly managed a large step before, driving his sword through the man's chest. The glistening steel ran rife with blood as it pierced flesh and organs, provoking a startled cry from the man. Almost simultaneously, both men blinked as the shock finally wore off and in that instant, time seemed to slow. The knife wielding mobber's eyes lolled backward before he slowly collapsed forward upon Lucius's front.

A moment passed before Lucius glanced down to find the bloody knife driven through his upper left breast and after forcing the limp man back, he found himself scream as the thrust forcefully ripped the knife away. The blood that seeped through is own gaping wounds became irrelevante even as they seeped through his shirt and through the din of battle, other mobbers rushed into the vicinity. His actions had slain another fellow Valanian and yet others continually fought onwards. A costly, yet fitting price for the negligence wrought on the common masses as they slowly starved to death.

Onatha heard the call and turned just in time to see Lucius stabbed.

"No!" She almost dropped her sword but his words, warning her to never let it go echoed as she watched him reel from the wound.

She ran towards him, swinging her sword wildly in an effort to drive any that might come near him away.

"Lucius!" Ona was at his side. "Is it-"

She saw that blood. Her eyes darted to his face. "We need to get out of here! You need help! I-I can't-"

She turned and swung out at an approaching man. Her free arm went around him, holding him to her as she tried to move them through the crowd.

Lucius’ gaze trained upon Ona's form as she moved to defend him and the cowering boy; in the struggle, he rose to retrieve his sword only to find six other Valanian mobbers swarm towards their location. Tears streamed down the boy’s face as he cried helplessly whilst clutching the fish. The mobbers raised their weapons and came within inches of their position. Screaming, Lucius leaped into a maddened lung and whirled his blade before brutally striking down a nearby mobber; then another, then another, and then another. Through various, maniacal shouts, Lucius' eyes widened as the remaining men and women closed upon Ona's flanks. He managed a dozen steps before a string of deafening cracks and whistling discharges exploded overhead.

The Prince lurched forwards as he felt heated needles pierce his arms legs and following a brief glance towards his body, found blood seeping through various musket wounds across his arms, legs, and shoulders. Several pants escaped his lips as he carelessly dropped his sword and upon reaching Ona's location, slowly collapsed to his knees. His gaze blurred and through momentary glances, spotted the mobbers twitching along the cobblestone streets. Before completely collapsing upon the cold and dirtied street gutter, more deafening cracks associated with firearms rang out into the air. The boy managed to crawl across the floor, with one arm carrying the fish and his immediate glance towards the wharf front unveiled arriving Paighan squadrons as their lines burst into the crowd. Another volley discharged from their elongated firearms and into the masses whilst their blade wielding elements tore into the crowds with a startling ferocity. Many screams erupted as the firearm Paighan continually vollied into the crowds. Somehow, the desparate civilians had begun to rush into the temporary soldier blockades in their attempts to retrieve the day's limited fishing haul.

Onatha couldn't stifle the scream that escaped her lips as the air was filled with loud sounds. Wide-eyed she was looking around for some idea of what was going on. Lucius went to his knees. Her arm was wrapped about him and she struggled to move.

"Please...we need to get out of here...you are bleeding." Her voice hitched. "They are killing everyone and the noise..."

Tears threatened to spill over from her pupil-less gaze.

"You need help..." She looked around knowing that no one there would help her or him. Ona wasn't even sure Lucius would be able to move out of the area at this point. There was so much blood and she could feel it seeping into her clothes. Her worst fear was that he might die here. She knew no one, knew very little of what was really going on. She didn't even belong here and he was the only person she had. The very thought of him dying left her cold.

Lucius' gazed fell back towards the panicking masses as they fled the massacre. placed an arm along his companion's shoulder. The mobbers wielding knive, clubs, rakes, and various weapons were amongst those cut down in the opening vollies whilst some managed to rush several paces across the streets before being trampled, gutted, chopped or shot to death. The sick, the elderly, women, and children; the Paighans spared none in their attempts to clear the streets. This only compounded further as Lucius watched helplessly whilst one particular Paighan's sword slash ripped open an elderly woman's belly before mercilessly running his sword through another child's neck. The bodily entrails and blood that had begun to litter the streets only further illustrated the deplorable conditions affecting Voltas and general populace. Through the ensuing mass panick, Valanian and Sarifen civilians alike continually trampled each other in their effort to vainly escape the butchery. Lucius found himself crawling through the incredible pain jolting through his entire body and felt his own intuition willing his body to action. Somewhere close to the wharf outskirts, he thought he spotted horses dragging several large and elongated metal tubes featuring sprouted muzzles and loading mechanisms.

The merciless conscript officers had ordered their soldiers to both open fire and to tear upon the hapless populace. Somewhere near one particular avenue intersection, Prince Bahramesh shouted furiously to cease fire, yet his futiless orders only served to fuel the slaughter as the soldiers cut theiry way through the scattering crowds with deadly impunity. Lucius' gaze darted across the wharf fronts as the Sarifen Prince and his Zhayedans rushed through the streets. They'd only galloped several paces when another volley fell into their vicinity. A cry escaped his lips as several musket rounds tore through his arms and horse and a moment later, he too fell as Prince and horse collapsed to the ground. It was only after a late Nezām-e Jadīd arrival that the soldiers slowly began to halt as the Nezamnites enclosed around the fallen Sarifen Prince and his Zhayedan entourage.

"Ona, this is no ..." Lucius shook and winced in pain upon, Ona's arrival, however, the rage seething from within would have frightened or given any mortal pause, "...no time to offer your sympathies. They have firearms, plated armor soldiers, and cannons to bear. We are heavily outmatched here and I'm … aughh ... farking 'ell that hurts! I'm ... I'm ... I'm ... not even sure if I've the strength to move my legs, but I'll damn myself should you lose your life on my accounts! Leave me here or they're going to shoot you to pieces! You must to find a way off this farking street before they seal the wharfs!"

Onatha shook her head. "I cannot leave you. I do not know where to go or anyone else. Please."

She pleaded with him while half dragging him away. He was heavy on her shoulder but she didn't care. The weight was nothing compared to the fear she was just barely keeping in line. She was in a foreign place at a foreign time. She could only hide for so long before someone would find her and kill her for being there or for her eyes or for no reason at all. It seemed to be the way of things here.

She stared off into the distance for a moment.

"I can see a place. Dark, small but away from the fighting. Just a little further. There is no one and it is dark there....please Lucius.."

Through gritted teeth, Lucius sported his legs and with Ona's assistance, managed to hobble towards the outer streets. His arms and legs seared with irritation and pain, yet his mind raced as the sights of the massacre continually flashed before his eyes. As lethal as he was, he remained powerless to halt the unfolding butchery. If they survived the evening's bloodshed, he would never forgive nor forget what had happened. If Yadin-Hamon hadn't known better, the commoners truly levied the odds necessary to overpower the Sarifen conscripts numbers. Their hundreds would easy dwarf the heavily armed dozens, yet each person fearfully ran for dear life. Someday, where the conflicts demanded, this would soon change.

For a moment, Ona stared off into the distance.

"I can see a place. Dark, small but away from the fighting. Just a little further. There is no one and it is dark there....please Lucius.."

The screaming masses threatened his hearing and through the commotions, the Prince barely discerned his companion's remarks. The scattered torches lining the streets and dimly lit lamps illuminated the crowds' moving shadows that continually plastered against every wall, building, street corner, and cobbled avenue. Billowing smoke also threatened to engulf the clogged street passages, only further exacerbated through additional Paighan musket discharges.

In his attempt to locate an opening, his sleeves suddenly tugged and through a pained inquiry, found his gaze rest upon the boy. The boy remained remarkably unscathed as his arm shot upward and towards a small gap within the crowds and towards a remotely hidden side street. Wincing, Lucius nodded through throbbing gasps and attempts to repel the sheer force presented by other frightened commoners as they pushed to make an escape. His grip on Ona's hands began to slip and through repeated attempts, found himself struggling to properly flex his muscles.

“Lead onwards Ona,” he gasped, “Before they shoot us all ..."

Onatha tightened her grip on Lucius as she moved forward towards where the boy had pointed. She could see it, in her mind's eye. It was her only focus. She paid no attention to the others around her, the fighting or the hellish sounds. She wanted out. She wanted the dark and the quiet. She wanted to breathe.

Lucius was having trouble holding onto her and Ona compensated by holding him him even more. They looked ludicrous if anyone had actually cared to watch them. She summoned the strength from her fear, from her panic, from her will to survive as she always had. Onatha half dragged him to the side street and away from the fighting.

"Come, we will find a building to hide in." She helped him along.

Here the sound of fighting was hushed and distant. About half way down the narrow alley like street Ona paused and looked into the distance once more. Her eyes eyes scanned the dark. "There. There is a place we can hide for now. To catch our breaths."

Once more she began her movement forward, taking Lucius with her. She had a seen a small derelict building. It had been a small shop of some kind, just off the wharf but now it was broken down and from what she had seen had likely suffered a fire. She was grateful that no one had torn it down yet.

At the end of the dark side street she turned left. Looking about, seeing no one, she made for the first building on her left. It was clear that the roof had collapsed in, that smoke and flames had damaged the stone but as she pulled them in it also became clear that there was room, just enough to sit.

Onatha let the boy go first, then helped Lucius in and to the ground. She immediately turned and covered any visible opening with debris.

"We can rest here for a time."

She made her way back to Lucius. "I-I am not a healer..." She bit her lower lip looking pained. "I do not know how to help you..."

Nodding, Lucius grimaced whilst clutching his left breast in an attempt to stem the bleeding. The sounds fleeing commoners could still be heard, earning the Prince's curse. Both Sarifen and Valanian alike had dropped and amongst those, Prince Bahramesh. It was during this moment that Lucius swore another oath of bitter vengeance to murder every last Paighan responsible for the death of the innocent. His arms and legs stung and the blood seeping away from his own body only catalysed his desire to exact vengeance.

"I do thank you, Ona, however, I'm afraid there is nothing you can do beyond stemming my wounds. I ... I believe I've suffered worse. Shortly before Emperor Anoush entered Voltas, I nearly lost my arms fleeing his Sipahis. Suffering through a stabbing and musket wounds? This is nothing! I promise you that the storms that awaits Emperor Anoush and the pathetic aristocrats will greatly surpass the wounds I've suffered this day ..."

Grimacing, the bitter thoughts raging through Lucius' head ranged from sadistic to mass murder. As his mind raced through multiple plots to penetrate and breach the palace grounds, he felt his breath shorten. Quick glances towards the ceiling unveiled a large smoke cloud. Within moments, the entire room became engulfed in a thickening vapor and before long, the Prince found his breath shorten. This soon culminated into a fit of coughs and sputtering beyond control. The sound of crackling flames pulsated across the room and before long, the Prince found himself desperately clawing through the debris Ona had so diligently layered.

His following recollections before agonizingly lumbering through the wharf streets involved throaty hacks, his companion's desperate shrieks, and promises to reach another safe location. Shortly before completely collapsing under a large wooden sign spelling the words, "Cœur and Company," he thought he'd spotted a familiar face as she violently banged her fists along a set of double doors ...

Evening - Commoner Districts - Voltas

Shots rang into the night and in looming lamp light, the woman dodged, weaved, and unbalanced various gangers as she quickly rammed her way through the gangers. The streets soon spilled in blood a and anarchy as projectile after projectile pierced the gangers with deadly impunity. Shots rarely strayed from their mark and true to their name, the Melitan markswomen were as deadly as they were beautiful and their precision found many targets. Many cries and shouts escaped the ganger ranks as they fell and through the confusion, a cleaver armed ganger seized the woman's cloak in a bid to halt her startling dash through their ranks. Another ganger brandished his sword and whipped the blade across his arm, spilling blood. A scream escaped the fleeing woman's lips as the gash ripped her flesh open. A second later, the woman disarmed the man before seizing the young girl from their own ranks. Following several shoves and whirling spins, another burly ganger barred her path, moving forward to deliver a malicious swing across her head. The woman barely managed to offer a weak, deflecting parry and found a modest blow strike across her head before she drove a knife through his throat. In the ensuing struggles, the girl broke free and escaped. Following a quick speed burst, the woman broke through the ganger assembly before a shot rang out. She elicited a scream and lurched back as several rounds found their mark along her lower left shoulder.

Confused cries, shouts amongst the gangers, and barked orders throughout the Melitan Sister ranks rang into the night amidst the immense Melitan arrow and firearm discharges. The woman screamed yet again and forcefully unbalanced several gangers in their attempts to seize and rip her tight fitting clothing. In a desparate bid for escape, the woman raised an arm, seized a stray ganger, and barely completing a full one hundred and eighty degree rotation before reverting the man's role into a body shield as round after round tore through the man's body. Following a timely arrow volley, she managed to hurl the dying man towards nearby gangers and pushed across several more bodies until she'd handily escaped the masses. Many fire arm Melitan sisters ceased fire as they moved to reload whilst the bow wielding sisters' arrows quickly began to cut down the hapless gangers. The gangers themselves fell into disarray before charging straight into the maiden shield walls into a disciplined death trap as the Melitans' swords fell upon the gangers in orderly fashion. Upon reaching the empty outer streets, the wounded woman and the girl darted into the darkness and into crowds of men and women. Numerous gangers and several fumbling Shield Maidens trailed in her wake, however, they soon crashed into the mass of commoners frantically exploding into every street corner and avenue. Within the raging torrent of moving bodies, the woman and the girl disappeared into the vicinity ...

Daedhel gritted her teeth, making a mental note to not make such rash decisions again. That was the last time she even took emotions into consideration. Doing the right thing just wasn't going to work out... look where it got her. Her shoulder was the worst by far. She knew quite well that every moment she stayed on the streets increased her chances of being captured. They certainly wouldn't give up the search especially now that she had murdered even more people. And wounded as she was... there was no way she would come out on top. As much as it pained her to admit it, even to only herself, she was going to have to get help. She, for now, valued her life over her pride. She weaved between the masses and ignored the pain as she moved. She navigated her route carefully and quickly, making sure to avoid any Shield Maidens or gangers she spotted. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the girl was still with her. Frowning slightly, she spoke in a quiet tone. "You can either come with me, or hand yourself in to one of the Shield Maidens. Either way you will be safe." If she came with her then so be it. Her current concerns were revolved around getting to her destination before she began to lose the strength to keep going.

Having managed to get away from the crowds of commoners and out of sight of those that were chasing her Dae took the back streets, quite glad that it was easy enough to get where she was going. By the time she arrived her breath was becoming ragged, the pain only increasing with every step. Normally she would have climbed in a window as she much preferred the discrete route but desperate times called for desperate measures. Even coming here, to Michel Jacques Cœur, was a desperate action in her mind. Moving forward and taking a deep breath she banged on the door. "Hey, old man! Let me in!"

Coeur Grain Warehouse

"God damns man, what in the seven farking hells will Yadin-Hamon and Athirat think when they've learned of your misdeeds. Mutilating my limbs is not an Augurian virtue!"

“Lucius, I understand you are suffering, however, you must remain still otherwise I cannot remove the round. The wound is both deep and infection prone and I need no doctorial training to note that it may turn gangrenous. Hold still otherwise, we may require removing your leg entirely.”

“I can stand this, I ... I think I can ... yaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The Prince's loud and defiant scream echoed across the Coeur warehouse compound as his green eyed companion and several others held down his arms and legs. It required five individuals to fully brace his flailing before he could finally be subdued. The night had certainly favored both Prince and Assassin as the elderly merchant, Michel Jacques Coeur miraculously appeared to open his warehouse doors to house the ailing visitors. During the operations involving the other musket ball removals, he'd opted against ingesting depressants and strong liquors. The aftermath had largely proven rather fruitless and he found himself grimacing against stinging pain coursing through his arm. This only proved to exacerbate the unbearable stinging coursing through his arms and legs and as the elderly merchant and workers worked to remove the final round, he found himself spasm in a tormented manner.

The ordeal left his knuckles to so thoroughly grip the wooden table that they'd begun to flash a brilliant white shade. The Assassin seemed to fare better, given her drunken expression and similar musket induced injuries. Her murderous eyes seemed to dart across the warehouse ceiling before finally resting back towards the convulsing Prince. Throughout the ordeal, her demeanor remained silent, yet her wounds spoke of pain, irritation, and the desire to murder at first provocation. Thusly, the decision to first address the Prince had seemed to surface a hardened death stare, yet she patiently consented towards allowing Seigneur Coeur to attending the Prince given the man's wound severity.

“I've got it,” Coeur voiced as his bloody hands wriggled away. The merchant's miniscule bowl clamps held a disfigured round lead ball. Much to the Prince's repeated screams, the worker assembly moved to press liquor upon his wound before tightly wrapping linen bandage around. Given the ordeal and his other wounds, Lucius' gaze briefly redirected towards his companions and for a moment, a brief smile escaped his lips. Shortly afterwards, his breath shortened to slow and throated gasps before the elderly merchant moved to block his sight.

"Daedhel, lower your blades. You're next ..."

Evening - The Royal Palace - Voltas

The fresh breezes carrying out across the open seas had done much to ease the Lord Sovereign's mind given the previous nights' festivities. Conqvist had thought as much given his specified orders before concluding the evening in a much deserved sexually arousing scene that had inevitably satiated his appetites. He was difficult to please and long in release, which made his sessions all the more invigorating. So much so that it required five girls and dozens of delightful screams before he finally discharged.

That was certainly enough reason to begin affairs so late into the evening, following his pleasurable moments. This hour, Conqvist held himself as he continually sipped the imported fruited wines of the far east. The casks shipped to his personal collections were numerous, yet as a drinker, he found the flavors most delicious through slow, deliberate, and savoring samples. The light burns shooting down his throats did much to ease his mind and inbetween sips, he found himself exhaling amidst the pleasant moans escaping the ravishing girls grinding near his bedside.

The smoke trails twisted back and forth from the flickering candle light in the same manner a dancer seduced her audience. Conqvist's eyes surveyed across the numerous ledgers peppering his bedside before hastily filtering through each parcel in an earnest attempt to quickly locate the more concerning issues plaguing his domain. During a brief moment, his eyes fell upon a particular ledger that involved expanding the city's catacombs and sewer systems ... to be done, of course, within reasonable payments. For several months, the company's chief representative had repeatedly requested his approval and with each decline, the next request had lowered considerably. Exhaling, the Lord Sovereign burned a black wax seal to mark his disapproval and requested decline. Surely, the man could find reason enough to offer an even lower offer. Yes, that would do, Conqvist thought, and while there was still time, perhaps this would bring adequate opportunities to further allow his agents to sweep the undiscovered denizens that were rumored to have housed several notable resistance circles.

Moving onwards, the Lord Sovereign's fingers bristled again as he sorted through additional folded ledgers. His gaze swept across another involving a local Baron's request to double his numbers against marauding Sarifen brigands. Silently, Conqvist reserved a mental note to demand Catherine's abilities regarding his desire to unveil another crystal ball over, the Baron of Ce'dareaux. The man wreaked of suspicious allegiances towards the resistance and against his own authority and as Regent Sovereign, he could neither allow nor overlook an upstart Baron's ambitions.

Exhaling again, Conqvist drained his cup and reached over to pour another glass as he sorted through numerous other ledgers. Squabbles over pressing matters concerning the surrounding farms and their failed harvests, distress over the greater Sarifen mobilization, insurgent assaults against the Gardes Auxilia de la Valania, additional political purges within the realm's other cities, and skirmishes between the Vorstian Clibnarii and Equites Vectisia were amongst the more common stately matters plaguing his rule. The times were indeed grave, however, they were no less out of his abilities than were the Emperor's dwindling grasp over Carcassonne.

Over the previous decades, he'd managed to retain the Valania's vassalized autonomy and within the coming months, found comfort in slowly squeezing away Emperor Aryanpur's dominion. The right cards would soon come into play come the morrow and as he tilted his cup, the red liquids that coursed through his gold mounted, glass goblet lazily sloshed and floundered in a manner most inviting to his own thirst. It was a good vintage and what better way to end the evening than within his own belly? A smile escaped his lips as his attention reverted back towards the two girls. Their moans and pleasurable screams only grew louder and more pervasive as the minutes passed and Conqvist for one was not one to disregard the moments his ladies made passionate love.

His attentions only diverted following a movement through a particular portion within his chambers. The commotion soon unveiled his armed retainers and a sweating messenger bearing various messages along his belt pouches. Raising a hand, the Lord Sovereign's legs swung over the bed side before he beckoned the man to his location. Moaning, the girls' incessant groin thrusts upon each other halted as their arms seductively moved across each others' breasts. Upon achieving several steps, the messenger's gaze momentarily swept towards the girls' seductive motions before a swallow provoked a bow and kneel in utter respect and fear. The motions earned Conqvist's approving nod and outshot hand. Nodding again, the messenger paced the final three or so meters before grasping and kissing the Sovereign's ringed finger. Not one to dismiss any life attempts, Conqvist's other hand remained firmly gripped over a hidden knife wedged under a spot along his robe's rear pouch. Unremarkably, the messenger made no bodily threats and proceeded to lower his head to acknowledge the Sovereign's authority.

"Rise," he ordered before offering a summoning gesture, "I assume you've adequate reason to enter my chambers and disturb my own stately affairs at this hour. What have you to offer?"

"A situation along the dockfronts and the seer's immediate summoning. The matters are both very urgent and demand your presence."

Stepping forward, a leading retainer and knight cleared his throat before voicing, "Sir, if I may. There have been repeated reports regarding the Paighan's actions. Their own officers and those of the Crown Watch issued little restraint in butchering the common folk as they begged for food along our wharfs. Only Prince Bahramesh's arrival checked his peoples' own upstart conscript levies, however, the same cannot be said of our own men. The situation is also not without its own ... imbalances given that Sarifen commoners were killed in the ensuing struggles."

"This first development is largely irrelevant and neither worthy nor imperative enough to warrant my pursuits," the Sovereign answered with an irritated wave, "What is the second?"

"The second is a delicate development and may demand your presence. The seer reports she has completely lost sight of several of our persons of interest and that she is unable to retain watch over various districts residing within Voltas."

"Really now," Conqvist remarked through a quizzical eyebrow. The man tipped his goblet and enjoyed a heartily tug before , "and have we uncovered what our premonist was able to discern?"

"The premonist has reportedly acknowledge his failure to uncover certain unfolding forks regarding your future, Lord Sovereign and each attempt to penetrate these forks places additional strain upon his ..."

"That will be all," Conqvist abruptly commanded, earning both the messenger and retainer knight's fearful kneels. As the chamber's occupants bowed, the Sovereign rose and paced several slow and deliberate step as his eyes wandered across the candle lit ceiling. "You will not speak of this and forever hold your peace. These matters are my judgments and my judgments alone and I shall sever your very tongues should you again speak your will."

"Now ... I believe my business and affairs demand resolution only fit for a ruler of my abilities alone. Ladies, please continue on my accounts? I shall return within the hour and will once more demand your services. Chevalier Dampierre. Unseal the passage and escort me towards the Seer's chambers, won't you?"

Rising, the Knight offered another bow before voicing, "As your excellence commands, Lord Sovereign ..."

Mid-Morning - The Royal Palace - Voltas

The start of every day was, in itself, an adventure worthy of his pursuits and as the Lord Sovereign, sunny mornings became both great moments to begin a day and filled in surprises within Voltas itself. He enjoyed his wine early and following a pleasant night's rest, found a wine filled belly a proper manner to begin his days. The soothing winds and the sounds of the crashing oceans, the smells of richly sauced pastries, and a jar full of the finest wines proved his bane and what better way than to begin each morning in the finest comforts? The company women offered also enhanced such indulgences and the extravagances an early afternoon's bedding did much to ease his mind. Conqvist decided would need such pursuits before other troubles and realm concerning struggles entered his vicinity.

Only moments before, his chamber had filled in the song of pleasurable cries, skin slapping, and throated gasps. The three young girls of varying ethnicities all lay in a tangled heap along his bedside following their services in Conqvist's company and as they panted, Conqvist moved to fasten his robe. His paces soon brought him towards the passage under his bed and following the chamber's sealing, entered his retainer entourage's presence.

Upon reaching a certain bend around the corridor, the sound of clanking metal, ringing steel, and clattering irons reached his ears. Half armor wearing men carrying falchions, maroon plumed helmets, and sizable side arms kneeled to attention as his robes dragged across the floors. Conqvist waved an hand and strutted across the walkway before entering the candle lit chambers as the commanding officers shouted, "Garde à vous!"

"At ease," he firmly remarked, upon managing a long tug from his golden goblet. A flick of the wrist brought several, gold pitcher carrying servants forward. The sounds of trickling liquids echoed through the chambers as one servant filled Conqvist's cup. The sips complementing his watchful gaze across the chambers did much to alleviate his spirits during this morning session. The previous evening's affairs had concluded once he'd thoroughly gouged both seer and premonist regarding monitoring and tracking the persons of interest. He'd regretfully allowed the two the mercy to retire for the evening following disappointing failure to find a particular person of interest; most notably the assassin. Come morning, he favorably hoped to resume tracking once his assets acquired proper rest. Given the necessary precautions involving the Palace's security, Conqvist feared nothing.

"Catherine my dear! Hard at work again?" Smirking, the Lord Sovereign briefly glanced towards the large glass balls and the persons of interest. Several balls remained completely translucent, earning a disdainful sign. "I trust you've enjoyed a ... proper rest, have you not?"

"Yes, Lord Sovereign," the robed woman quickly answered has her eyes quickly glanced towards the ground, "Your mercy has no bounds and I would gladly give my life to serve you. The one assassin has alluded our rest and ... it may appear that another seer dwells within this city."

Smiling, the Lord Sovereign waggled a finger towards a particular crystal ball that featured a riding quad galloping rapidly towards the city gates. The men carried an assortment of belongings as they raced across the Raison d'être towards the Porte de Patay. The dust clouds they left proved extensive; almost as if an army trailed closely behind, however, upon closer inspection the lack of any additional riders showed no reason for alarm.

"Be sure to bring Ivalian spiced teas, toasted boule, a plate of the chateau kitchen's poached eggs, and our finest steamed potatoes," Conqvist demanded, directing an arm towards a waiting servant. The young girl bowed before disappearing through a corridor within one of the chamber's hidden openings.

"You've served well, Catherine, and there maybe hope for sparing you yet! Hm. I presume this is the tribal leader and his cannon riders we notably examined the previous evening,” he asked as he strolled along the row of balls lining the various, silk laden tables within the chamber's center, “He hasn't stopped riding has he?"

"Yes, Lord Sovereign and you are correct in that he has been riding all night."

"Everard, make a note of that," Conqvist directed following a sharp finger snapping motion, "And be sure to inform Rothion that by nightfall I'll require the man's mounted weapon schematics. Catherine, trail the man's whereabouts."

Bowing deeply, the portly man continually scribbled words along a massive volume along a desk situated near a far corner. His eyes darted back and forth across the pages as his hands remained scribbled furiously to record the Lord Sovereign's words. The barely legible notes quickly began to fill the page, much to Conqvist's approval and support. The crackling fires continually heated the chamber's cooled interior, reflecting moving shadows across the walls. As Everard's pen whipped across the large omnibus, several particularly grotesque shadows quickly danced across the walls, to which only Conqvist seemed to notice.

"Chevalier de la Touche,” Conqvist addressed, “I trust you've fully dispatched the upstart plebs and secured D'Aubigne's manor?"

"All is going as requested, Lord Sovereign," a heavily armored aristocrat, bowing, "The commoner swine have been thoroughly dispatched and cries for justice are now proclaimed in your name! The staggering death toll largely presents an ... opportunity towards leveraging popular support to your cause. The Sarifens, of course, suffered numerous casualties, however, they were, by and large, the fault of their own incompetence. We haven't quite news surmised their numbers, however, it appears the riots were successfully executed. Reports amongst our informants and witnesses state that Prince Bahramesh II was shot and wounded by his own armed forces! No further reports have surfaced regarding his conditions, however, he is not expected to come clean."

"This is excellent news indeed," Conqvist answered, nodding, "Rather pitiful performance he gave to stop the lecherous slaughter. Should he sucuumb to his wounds, the Sarifens can blame no one, but themselves as they did following the deaths of their esteemed Lords Vahid and Antoine. Now then! What of Aubigne's manor?"

Bowing again, the Chevalier unrolled and flattened a large parchment along an unoccupied table before summoning a retainer towards his location. Shortly afterwards, the figurines dotted the map, outlining the manor's floor schematics and outlying street locations. "Our Watchmen have ensured a perimeter around his residence and surveyed every viable path or location overlooking or leading away from his manor grounds. None shall challenge nor threaten his residence. We are also pleased to report that his servants have been ... inspired through various sponsorships towards offering a fine dinner towards the arriving guests."

"And you are certain Aubigne and his servant staff were made aware of this?"

"Before breakfast this morning," la Touche quipped before flexing his knuckles.

"Then Aubigne is aware he will certainly find himself in good hands this evening. I look forward to knowing which dishes prove the most popular. I haven't even mentioned the vintages we've uncovered." Conqvist laughed as he drained his goblet. Following several refilling motions and generous goblet drains, the Lord Sovereign inched towards the chamber's center. He couldn't decide what matters proved more pressing. The incidents involving the heretic's agreement to join Saren's company for dinner or the fact an accomplished assassin had simply slipped through a large Melitan company and escaped his watchful eye. These matters would be addressed in short order and further expansion of the reliable Crown Watch would literally deliver the Sarifens on a platter. The intended results would serve as yet another step towards driving the Sarifens away from Voltas and the surrounding cities as more and more of their conscripts would abandon the Emperor in favor of pillaging and angering the local populace. Afterwards, the Emperor's armies, both leaderless and lacking men would slowly melt away to allow him to the preparations that were to come.

"Baronne Ce'dareaux,” Conqvist voice with a curt finger snap. His eyes strayed towards a glass ball featuring the Baron as he sat within what appeared to resemble an outhouse interior, “His whereabouts, movements, activities, and his manor's activities."

"Lord Sovereign, he appears he has slept well as did his retainers, men-at arms, and servants. From what I've uncovered, the Ce'dareaux estate's affairs have not remarkably improved, though I've managed to locate numerous instances where he visited his armorers. They are currently hard at work and his retainers seem to be preparing to depart. I've spotted additional men arriving along his manor's outskirts and his writing office is currently a flurry of unusual activity. A girl was ... also spotted not long entering the manor grounds before the Baronne concluded his evening. She spoke of events preceding her father's estate seizure."

Lord Elireth won't be pleased his men left surviving witnesses, the Lord Sovereign thought before shooting another finger in Everard's direction. The lord had sought to expand his plantations and the following years had involved bickering between two houses. Naturally, the Sovereign grew tired of the squabbles and found reason to gift Lord Elireth the other Knight's lands. He found the Elireth's financial expansion much more lucrative and found the floundering Baron's inattention largely disapproving. The seizure had only further illustrated the Knight's incompetence and more reason to strip the noble's titles in favor of more immediate output towards his realm's treasuries.

"Everard, note this ..."

Nodding, the portly man's hand continually swept across the page and following several additional moments, the Lord Sovereign enjoyed several additional pulls to allow his attendant the time to transcribe the enormous events, both present and future.

"Please carry on your efforts to monitor his activities," Conqvist remarked towards the seer,
"We'll grant the Baronne an Auxiliary's welcoming party, shall we not?"

“You are without equal, Lord Sovereign," the seer obediently answered before she formed a deep curtsy. Soon afterwards, servants and kitchen assistants arrived to bring a golden, water-filled pitcher and plates of freshly prepared dishes along a nearby circular table. The seer's hardened stare glanced down upon the chamber as her deeply rooted concentration manned the various glass balls. It was only after Conqvist waved an arm that the robed woman's demeanor slackened. Sighing, Catherine quickly tore into the dishes with relative impunity, much to the Lord Sovereign's approval.

The Lord Sovereign's hands reached lazily across one particular ball as he found himself staring towards the Hurrassein Powder Company's face and orchestrator. The company's firearms and powder were supposedly one of more promising elements within Carcassonne's emerging arms and weapons markets. The more he thought about the possible forks presented through supplanting mutual contracts alongside the woman and her business, the more he felt a wiggling within in his own pants. The gunsmiths and foundries across Valania would benefit his men greatly and given Rothion's prophetic uncoverings, Conqvist surmised he would soon vie to offer this Adrianna Hurrassein an enormous gold bounty to both arm and supply his expanding Watch Corps.

"Excellent. Chevalier! See to it that you double the city's patrols and order additional ... volunteers to scour the surrounding farmlands. I want the squadrons under Chevaliers de Dreux and de Bourbon stationed around the outer commons districts and the wharf front. Reinforce the city gates, establish additional chokepoints, and swear in our newer recruits. Be sure to also alert our Garrison Commanders and place our reserve elements on standby. I also want the wharf districts scoured and thoroughly reinforced should any unnecessary uprisings surface."

"You heard the Lord Sovereign," the officer barked, "Foutu bordel ... Aux Armes et aller au feu, mes frères!"

The Lord Sovereign's attention redirected towards other glass balls, where he spotted the heretic as he was rowed ashore and near a secluded beach leading towards a cliff. Inquisitors guarded his flanks. The previous evening involved the man's branding as Conqvist ordered a ceremony to attract ten or more demons towards the man's being. The rituals had effectively tripled his abilities at the cost of retaining roughly over a dozen demons within his body. The scriptures had effectively done much to pacify and confine the demons, however, once removed, the man was almost gauranted a very quick death. Bound by scripture and the Inquisition's mercy, Conqvist had gained ownership over the man's destiny and retained the authority to wield the heretic's abilities as his realm required.

That was one more chess piece to fuel the fires. Word of a renowned mercenary leader also reached his ears. Conqvist had not heard much beyond the notions that this commander commanded respect and competence. The premonist had reported the commander's storied history, which only further elevated his desire to employ the Coal Company's services. Naturally, he'd requested the Duke of Valdemar's presence to prepare an adequate negotiating session before he himself arrived. This Etchelion would soon find employment and Hurrassein arms to sweep the marauding Sarifens out of Valania Proper, for a generous commission of course. If ever there was a time, in which he could amass his finest assets, there was none greater than this very moment. The road ahead would involve an arms race that would eventually relinquish Valania's occupation and his actions would greatly determine this reality. The premonist's predictions were also becoming a reality and as time progressed, the Sarifen aristocrats and their forces would firmly fall into his traps, to which there would be no return or no redemption. While the Sarifens fought and butchered each other, he would continually horde his weapons and troops until he found the perfect moment to strike.

"Crown Watchmen! Before you perform your duties and return to your men, I should mention that I do not leave meritable services unrewarded. Everard! Please ensure that our esteemed chevalier are handsomely rewarded and in that, I mean to triple their pay. Continually serve our interests and both lordships and land await your possessions ..."

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