jasbraq

Welcome to Vradia

I heard it was open by my friend @Ti, so I wanted to try and throw my attempt in. Tell me what you think ^^

August Larkspur

Gus Larkspur

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Basic Information

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Age:

25

Race:

Human

Class:

Arcane Trickster Rogue, Illusion School Wizard

Weapons:

Dagger Set: A set of finely crafted daggers is his weapon of choice—compact and easy to conceal. He is rather precise when throwing them. He has names for each dagger: Maura and Marci.
Darts: Gus carries concealed small darts. These can be easily hidden on his person. He carries a variety of darts, one being laced with hallucinogens and another stylized in a way to make as much noise as possible when thrown.

Detailed Appearance:

Gus Larkspur, at the age of 25, carries an air of mysterious charisma that is accentuated by his roguish and scruffy appearance. His tousled wavy brown hair frame a face marked by the hardships of street life and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

His facial hair takes the form of a well-maintained goatee, adding a touch of rugged charm to his features. The goatee seems to mirror the playful curve of his lips when he flashes his trademark mischievous smile.

Gus's attire is a testament to his pragmatic approach to life. Clad in a simple, practical outfit befitting a skilled rogue, he wears dark trousers and a comfortable yet durable shirt. The sleeves are often rolled up, revealing the lean muscles acquired through a life of cunning escapades.

A distinctive element of Gus's ensemble is a vibrant, bright scarf that he wears with a casual flair. The scarf, a seemingly incongruous burst of colour amidst the shadows. It is, however, not merely an accessory.

Bio History:

August Larkspur, born into the esteemed Larkspur noble family, displayed an innate magical ability from a young age. The Larkspurs, however, held a deep-seated prejudice against magic users, viewing them as a threat to the family's reputation. As August's abilities manifested, whispers of arcane dealings circulated through the noble circles.

Facing public disgrace and fearing the consequences of having a magical heir, the Larkspurs decided to disown Gus. They were to be sent to the gallows, a grim fate for a noble child. Gus learned of the notorious reputation of the gallows and seized an opportunity to escape into the bustling downtown of Volenstul.

While navigating the dangerous streets of Volenstul, Gus encountered a charismatic charlatan and illusionist named Marcel Duvall. Marcel, seeing potential in the young noble, took Gus under his wing. There was an unspoken understanding between them—Gus's magical abilities were accepted and even encouraged.

Marcel became a mentor, a surrogate family member to Gus, filling the void left by the Larkspurs. Under Marcel's guidance, Gus learned the ways of illusion and trickery, honing their skills as an arcane trickster and a master swindler. The two formed a close bond, and Gus found solace in the camaraderie of the underworld.

However, everything changed when Marcel disappeared under mysterious circumstances. The once thriving criminal empire fell into disarray, and Gus, feeling lost without their mentor, sought answers and purpose. In the search for Marcel, Gus joined a gang with aspirations for a big score, hoping to unravel the truth behind Marcel's disappearance and reclaim the stability they had lost.

Likes:

• Money: For Gus Larkspur, money is not merely a means to an end; it's a symbol of freedom and control. Growing up as a noble child turned street urchin, Gus learned early on the power that wealth wields. In the shadowy underworld of Volenstul, money is a tool for survival, a currency that opens doors and seals deals. Gus enjoys the thrill of the heist, the satisfaction of counting ill-gotten gains, and the freedom that a well-lined purse provides.
• Women: Gus is a charmer, and his fondness for women goes beyond mere attraction. He appreciates the diverse strengths and skills that women bring to the table, whether as allies, rivals, or partners in crime. His interactions are marked by a genuine respect for their abilities and a recognition that everyone has a role to play in the intricate dance of the underworld. Gus's charisma often finds him entangled in complex relationships, but it's the dynamic and unpredictable nature of these connections that he finds intriguing. Women, to Gus, are not just companions but valuable players in the grand game of life
• Flowers: Amidst the grit and shadows, Gus finds solace in the delicate beauty of flowers. Perhaps it's a nostalgic connection to a more innocent past or a reminder of the fleeting nature of life. Gus has a penchant for acquiring small bouquets, often stolen or acquired through less-than-legal means, to adorn his hideouts. Flowers represent a touch of elegance amidst the chaos—a reminder that even in the darkest corners, there can be moments of unexpected beauty.
• Clever Wordplay: A wordsmith in his own right, Gus appreciates the beauty of clever wordplay and witty banter. Whether engaging in verbal sparring with rivals or weaving intricate tales to entertain, his love for language is evident. A sharp tongue can be as effective as a concealed dagger, and Gus takes pride in his ability to navigate the intricate dance of words.
• Artful Illusions: Gus has a deep appreciation for the artistry behind magical illusions. Whether it's a subtle sleight of hand or a grand display of arcane trickery, he takes joy in the skilful manipulation of perception. Artful illusions not only serve as tools in his repertoire but also as a source of entertainment and fascination.

Dislikes:

• Getting swindled: The irony is not lost on Gus—a master of deception despising being deceived. Having spent years perfecting the art of trickery, Gus has a deep disdain for those who attempt to outwit him. The bitter taste of betrayal is something he actively avoids, and anyone attempting to swindle him is met with a fierce and unforgiving response.
• High society: Gus's upbringing in the noble Larkspur family left scars that haven't fully healed. The stifling expectations, the judgmental gazes, and the rigid hierarchy of high society grated on his spirit. The opulence and pretence of the upper echelons of society are a stark contrast to the freedom he found in the streets. The disdain for high society is not just a rejection of his past; it's a rebellion against the very structures that sought to confine him.
• Disrespect to his name: Reputation is everything in the underworld, and Gus takes great pride in the name he has carved for himself. Disrespect towards the Larkspur name or any attempts to besmirch his reputation are met with swift and calculated retaliation. Gus may live in the shadows, but his reputation is a valuable asset, and he guards it fiercely against those who would tarnish it.
• Traditions and Those Who Cling to Them: The rigid traditions of high society, with their outdated norms and stifling expectations, are a source of resentment for Gus. He despises those who blindly adhere to tradition without questioning or challenging the status quo. The rebels within him reject the notion of being bound by societal norms, and anyone trying to enforce such traditions is met with a rebellious spirit.
• Incompetence: Gus has little patience for those who lack skill or competence in their chosen endeavours. Whether it's a fellow thief bungling a heist, a mage failing to execute a spell, or a partner unable to hold their own in a dangerous situation, Gus finds incompetence infuriating. In the dangerous world he navigates, relying on others requires a certain level of trust, and Gus has little tolerance for those who jeopardize the success of their endeavours through sheer incompetence.

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Skills and Abilities:

Abilities:

• Illusory Mirage: Gus can weave intricate illusions that deceive the senses of those around him. Whether creating phantom images to distract enemies or crafting illusions to disguise himself and his allies, this ability adds a layer of mystique and misdirection to his repertoire. The illusions can be used strategically in both combat and stealth, allowing Gus to manipulate perception to his advantage.
• Shadowmeld: Embracing the shadows, Gus can seamlessly blend into the darkness, becoming nearly invisible to the naked eye. This ability enhances his stealth capabilities, allowing him to move undetected and strike from unexpected angles. Shadowmeld also grants him heightened awareness in low-light environments, making him a master of navigating the shadows with silent grace.
• Enchanting Persuasion: Gus possesses an enchanting aura that allows him to magically influence the emotions and decisions of those around him. This mystical persuasion goes beyond mere charm, tapping into the subtle currents of magic to weave a compelling influence. Whether convincing a guard to look the other way, negotiating with potential allies, or sowing discord among enemies, Gus's enchanting influence is a magical touch that adds an ethereal quality to his social manipulation.

What are the drawbacks of those abilities?

• Magical Strain: Creating and maintaining complex illusions can be mentally taxing. Extended or intricate use of Illusory Mirage may leave Gus fatigued, affecting his ability to focus on subsequent tasks, both magical and mundane. Additionally, the illusions may not fool creatures with a high resistance to magical deception, making this ability less effective against certain adversaries.
• Limited Visibility: While in the shadows, Gus may find it challenging to discern details in the environment, potentially leading to unseen obstacles or unexpected dangers. In brightly lit areas, the effectiveness of Shadowmeld diminishes, making it less reliable in broad daylight. Additionally, prolonged use of this ability may strain his eyes, causing temporary sensitivity to light when he emerges from the shadows.
• Magic Susceptibility: The enchanting magic used in this ability is not foolproof. Individuals with a strong resistance to magical influence may be less affected or completely immune to Gus's charms. Additionally, repeated use of Enchanting Influence on the same individual can lead to a diminishing effect, making it less effective over time. The magical nature of this persuasion may also attract the attention of magical beings or entities sensitive to such enchantments.

Skills:

• Sleight of Hand: With nimble fingers and a keen eye for detail, Gus is a master of sleight of hand. Whether it's picking pockets, discreetly swapping items, or performing dazzling tricks to distract and confuse, his proficiency in this skill makes him invaluable in situations that require finesse and subtlety. Gus's sleight of hand is not just about theft; it's a versatile tool that can turn the tide in various scenarios, from evading capture to gaining the upper hand in negotiations.
• Stealth: Gus moves through the shadows with a silent grace, blending seamlessly into the darkness. His keen awareness of his surroundings and ability to move undetected make him an exceptional stealth operative. Whether infiltrating enemy territory, gathering information unnoticed, or orchestrating surprise attacks, Gus's expertise in stealth ensures that the group can navigate dangerous situations with minimal risk. His agility and awareness of potential threats make him an asset when discretion is paramount.
• Deception: A silver-tongued trickster, Gus excels in the art of deception. Whether it's spinning elaborate lies to manipulate others, creating convincing disguises to infiltrate forbidden places, or charming his way out of tight spots, his skill in deception is a valuable asset to the group. Gus's ability to read people and play on their expectations makes him a cunning strategist, able to turn adversaries into unwitting allies or sow confusion among enemies. In a world where information is power, Gus's deceptive prowess provides the group with a strategic advantage.

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Extra Information:

He has taken in a stray cat he has called Ayla to remember their encounter under the moon’s light.

Theme Song:

The Hourglass Order

Emira of the Underworld

Fasha Sumbul

32 | Female | Virangish | Commoner | 7.65 (106 manas)

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ [ Ambitious ] ❖ [ Cunning ]
❖ [ Sensual ] ❖ [ Hedonistic ]
❖ [ Resourceful ] ❖ [ Fickle ]
❖ [ Suave ] ❖ [ Deceptive ]
❖ [ Persuasive ] ❖ [ Dishonest ]

"Power isn't given; it's taken. And I, my dear, am exceptionally good at taking what I want."

Fasha values the opulence she has acquired rather highly, reveling in extravagant attire and lavish adornments that flaunt her wealth. When it comes to diplomatic matters, she leverages her gift to its fullest extent, often appearing flirtatious as she weaves her charm to achieve her goals. However, she holds a strong disdain for using her powers on people who are genuinely committed to their partners, viewing it as an unforgivable transgression. Not even requests from her father or others in positions of authority can sway her on this matter.

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

"Every smile conceals a motive, every touch a calculated move."

Standing around 5 '1 in height, Fasha exudes opulence through her extravagant attire, showing her wealth with lavish adornments on the expensive fabrics that drape her frame. She is always seen with her signature pipe, a symbol of her indulgent lifestyle. Her carefully crafted appearance, exudes a captivating presence in social circles, allowing her to exert influence and charm over others.

L A N G U A G E S

Virangish - Fluent.
Avincian - Fluent.
Inipori - Near-Fluent.
Malabashi - Near-Fluent.
Perrench - Semi-Fluent.
Revidian - Semi-Fluent.

T H E G I F T

"Why resort to violence when a well-placed whisper can achieve far more? A sword may win a battle, but charm wins wars."

She hates using magic for violence, for using it to charm the opponent and wrap them around your finger is always more lucrative and less work.

Base RAS	Augmented RAS	HP	Blood Types	Items
7.65 (106 manas)	7.65 (106 manas)	20	Rosebud, Dominator	n/a

School	Speciality	Tier	Base	Offensive	Defensive
Magnetic	Internal	V. Expert	d10	1d2 2d10(3d10)	1d2 2d10(3d10)
Arcane	Illusory	V. Expert	d10	1d2 2d10(3d10)	1d2 2d10(3d10)
Binding	Material: Creation	V. Expert	d10	Binding is not used for Offense	1d2 2d10(3d10)
Chemical	Internal: Deceptive/Disruptive	VI. Master	d12	1d2 2d12(3d12)	1d2 2d12(3d12)
Kinetic	Sonic	IV. Journeyman	d8	1d2 2d8(3d8)	1d2 2d8(3d8)
Atomic	n/a	0. Neophyte	n/a	n/a	n/a
Blood	Fleshcraft	III. Adept	d7	1d2 2d7(3d7)	1d2 2d7(3d7)
Temporal	Spatial: Personal	III. Adept	d7	1d2 2d7(3d7)	1d2 2d7(3d7)
Dark	n/a	0. Neophyte	n/a	n/a	1d2 2d7(3d7)
Command	n/a	0. Neophyte	n/a	n/a	n/a
Primordial	n/a	0. Neophyte	n/a	n/a	n/a

Extra	Description
Fruit:	n/a
Other:	n/a

B A C K G R O U N D

"I am the whisper of a commoner's dream turned opulent symphony. My roots might be in the dirt, but I've painted them in gold."

Her past, like her present, remains a well-guarded secret. The only thing that is commonly known is that she started from common birth. She had always been a part of the undesirables. She would use her charms upon the rich elite to save funds to enter the Ever-Dreaming Seminary within the heart of their cultural world. Once returning to what she considered her home, she began to build up her own influence.

She had found something light would not dare to touch, something shapeless and shaped recognizably at the same time. After this encounter she could feel her ability to pull the figurative leash tighter as people began to resist her less. She navigated the intricate web of alliances and rivalries, using her charm to weave a web of influence.

Fasha became a figure that could not be crossed easily. Her past as an "undesirable" was a distant memory, replaced by the opulence of her extravagant lifestyle. She had become an enigmatic figure, a puppeteer of the highest order. Her name was whispered in awe and fear and her every move calculated to maintain the delicate balance of power she had crafted.

M O T I V A T I O N

"If the end justifies the means, I am content to use any means necessary"

Fasha is driven by an insatiable lust for more. more influence, more control, more gold, and more power. She operates within the areas where the Sultan's direct gaze seldom falls. However, as her reach expands and her influence grows, it becomes increasingly challenging to avoid catching the attention of powerful figures.

Instead of avoiding the Sultan, Fasha plays a more subtle game. She aims to prove her worth not by confronting him but by controlling what he cannot. By mastering the intricate webs of influence and power that lie beneath the surface of the Darhannic world, she seeks to establish herself as an indispensable force. Her goal is not to challenge authority but to become indispensable to it, operating in realms where the Sultan's grasp falters.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

"Tea, like a well-crafted lie, is brewed in patience, served in elegance, and sipped in silence. Both soothe the senses, masking bitter truths beneath layers of sweetness."

❖ Resourcefulness: Fasha's resourcefulness allows her to adapt swiftly to changing situations, always finding a way out of tight spots.
❖ Eloquence: Her ability to speak persuasively and with finesse makes her an expert negotiator and communicator. She can articulate her thoughts effectively, whether she's charming, persuading, or deceiving others.
❖ Memory Manipulation: Fasha can selectively manipulate the memories of others, subtly altering their perceptions or erasing specific details.
❖‌ Blackmail: Fasha knows how to use the collected compromising material on influential figures. This knowledge gives her significant leverage.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W

"Indulgence is the spice of life, and I savor every moment."

❖ Hedonistic Tendencies: Her pursuit of pleasure and indulgence can cloud her judgment, leading to impulsive actions and compromised decisions.
❖ Dependence on Charm: Fasha heavily relies on her charm and manipulation, making her vulnerable when faced with those immune to her tactics.
❖ Limited Combat Abilities: While skilled in manipulation, Fasha lacks direct combat abilities. In physical confrontations, she is at a disadvantage, relying heavily on her wit and resourcefulness to escape dangerous situations.
❖ Fear of Vulnerability: Despite her confident appearance, Fasha has a deep-seated fear of vulnerability. This fear can make her overly cautious and hesitant, especially when faced with situations where she cannot control the narrative or emotions of others.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

❖ Fasha is obsessed with expensive teas from the Rettanese and Nikanese.

❖ She has a monkey bird named Alqafz

Tried to reimagine her into this world... Idk how satisfied I am just yet with her but I wanted to at least get her out.

The Hourglass Order

At the crack of dawn

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A trusted friend

Two figures hunted for sport within the forest close to the estate. “Olivier, could you please reconsider your answer.” Yvain bowed his head down towards someone who would be considered his lesser. “Your skill would be a great asset to the order I am creating.” The older man laughed, his hounds patiently sided by his legs. “Nonsense, I am barely to not fit to be one of the young lord’s knights. I am but a lowly artisan.” Olivier pointed at his nearly grayed hair with a smile. “I’m not the young bear I used to be, son. My hair’s a great sign of that. I have fought my fights.”

“But that does not diminish your usefulness in the slightest. You’re the one that taught me much, yet I believe you have still more wisdom to convey to me and the order as a whole.” One of the hounds walked from the beast master’s side to circle around the young noble playfully. “That one is still young, let her get her energy out.” The man made sure the other hounds did not leave his side.

Olivier did not know how to answer Yvain’s plea. “You are truly a spitting image of your father, your siblings do not have the same radiance.” Yvain looked rather unamused by the older man’s comments. “Spitting image? I am better than that old fool.” “Of course, of course. But your father said the same thing about his father.” Yvain sighed. He knew he could never win this little discussion. “Then let me prove it to you.” Olivier raised his eyebrow. “And how would you prove it?” The young noble smirked. “Join my order, help me like you helped father and I will prove to you that I am truly better than him. Who would be a better judge of that than someone who has been by his side for decades?” Olivier smiled contently, Yvain’s answer satisfactory. “Alright boy, just do not expect too much of these old bones.”

A week has passed and his recruitment went mostly according to his plans. He managed to get his two mentors Olivier and Nicolas to join his cause as well as Nicolas’s other student Yvette. She is certainly up my alley. Alas, she is from common birth and her capacity is pitiful The other woman of the group was somewhat treated with the same attitude. She might prove useful as a future mistress, an unofficial branch with her… talents could be quite advantageous. And finally the final member of his personal recruitment that accepted his call. Bastien Moreau, a dark skinned man who made quite a name for himself as a proficient mercenary in southern Perrence and even in parts of Enth.

The people assembled to answer his call yet most were of the merchant class and other riffraff… There were some nobles, however they could barely be seen as them. They were not the people he had hoped for… though he should have kept his expectations lower. If they can fight, they will be useful. If he could turn these undesirables into a trained force, then the crown needed to acknowledge his drive.

"Attention!” the dark skinned man spoke out to gather the recruits’ collective focus. “You are in the presence of the grand master.” Yvain took the stage to address the people who have arrived here. “My countrymen! I am truly delighted to see so many of you have answered my call.” The Berbignon stood straight, a warm smile on his face. “Within this order there shall be no class divide, for we are all Perrench.” He opened his arms to further address the crowd. “Our order might not be the most grand as of now, but it shall soon eclipse any other!” He pointed at everyone in the crowd. “You, you, you and you shall be the most renowned knights in the land!” He paused. "My knights!"

“And what do we get out of it besides some cash?” A rather unsatisfied noble yelled out for his attention. “I could join any other order and get more worth out of it.” Yvain frowned. “What I offer is worth more than just gold. I offer true strength.” The noble moved forward towards the younger noble. “And how is a child going to offer us strength? I am already strong as is.” Yvain waved his hand dismissively. “It would be wise not to address your superior as a child. My age is not a reflective sign of my competency, because if we use that..” A grin appeared on the boy’s face. “That would only put you in a worse light.”

The older noble began to draw aggressively. “How dare you?! I am a count, you fool! I could rival a marquis with my influence.” The crowd moved away from the man as Bastien aimed his rifle towards the man. Yvain put his hand on the rifle and moved it down. “Thank you, friend. However this is something I shall deal with personally.” The boy clapped as he got down from his platform to be on equal ground. “Bravo, bravo, that is quite some capacity you have.” The older man smirked. “What’s with the sudden compliment? Are you mocking me?” The man’s anger was almost enough to pop a vein. Yvain’s expression was one of pure dissatisfaction. “No, that was a genuine compliment. It is indeed quite some power for a lesser, weaker noble than myself.”

The man cast an arcane lance and sent the beam straight towards the boy’s chest. Yvain drew away the potency of the attack and it dissipated near his chest. “Was that enough of your little tangent?” He sighed, still quite unamused with how highly this nobody regarded himself. “This is your last chance to accept my blessing or you will face my wrath.” The man’s anger however was not sated. He lunged at the boy, fist making contact with Yvain’s frame staggering him back. A furious pyre burned in the boy’s eyes after taking the hit. “You think you’re one of the strong! Let me prove you wrong!”

The man could feel pressure build onto his entire body, it was dragging him down to the ground. He tried to resist the immense force yet was no match for it. The older noble screamed out as his body hit began to be pushed into itself, arms pulled against his back, legs pushed against his stomach with increasing force. The bending of his body led to bones breaking and screams of agony coming from the man.

“Enough!” A man with two hounds by his side yelled out and as soon as his voice was heard Yvain stopped. “Olivier, I was just showing this man some discipline.” Olivier shook his head. “That is not discipline, son. That is just being cruel.” He waved towards Nicolas and Bastien. “Could you please make sure this man is seen out and will gets offered some care?” The two men nodded and dragged the mangled, yet alive body out of the room.

The hound barked before Olivier signed them for silence. “My fellow Perrench. I would like to apologize for the spectacle from both sides.” His face was trying to form a warm smile through his rough appearance. “But this boy is correct. We offer you strength, a way to climb the class ladder and all will be taken into our care and receive the blessings of being in the inner circle of a high noble.” He lowered his head. “I will not force this upon anyone but some of the blessings do extend to your families.” After the senior diplomat ended his speech some did leave, fearful of the Grand master’s fury yet there were also those who wished for strength and became members. Forty Three new members were gained and prepared themselves to become knights.

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Yvain sighed as he sat down in his chair. “I’m glad we managed to get new recruits.” Olivier smacked the young noble on the back of the head. “You prideful fool!” Yvain wished to retaliate but he could not against the man he respected so much. “He was the one who instigated it. I would have looked weak if I didn’t.” His voice was weaker than usual. The senior’s face was one of disappointment. “Then you openly request a duel! His pride would not allow him to deny it.” Yvain leaned back. “It happened already, did it not? I’ll take this with me in the future.” He waved his hand dismissively. ”I’ll gift the man’s family some gold and then he’ll shut up.”

Olivier sighed and sat down next to him. “Then what do we do now, grand master?” Yvain thought to himself. “Perhaps we should extend our scopes.” He stood up to grab a map. Olivier looked rather confused. “In what way?” Yvain smirked and pointed towards the Sevaran lands. “If we could find some potent people with perhaps the famous fireblood. It could truly strengthen our numbers in the long run.” He pointed to it once more. “Or the devourers.” His smirk only grew before pointing towards the savage lands. “What if we manage to integrate some of the infamous mooncasters? They would be a situational force but their strength is nothing to scoff at.” Olivier laughed. “You truly want us to have a target on our head?” Yvain shook his head. “No, I want us to become Perrence’s greatest asset.”

Yvain's eyes burned with ambition as he envisioned his future exploits. Olivier, though concerned, couldn't help but admire the young noble's determination. "Your vision is grand, son... Just don't overdo it" Olivier warned. "We will be treading dangerous waters, dealing with the political ramifications that comes not just from within Perrence but outside as well." Yvain nodded, his expression serious though a glint of excitement escaped. "I am aware of that, Olivier. But if we are to truly make a mark, a mark so big that children shall sing of our exploits hundreds of years later."

Olivier sighed, acknowledging he could not lower the boy's grand vision. "Very well, but we must proceed with caution. We cannot afford to make enemies as we stand right now. Diplomacy and tact will be as crucial as strength and power." Yvain nodded in agreement. "I understand, Olivier. We'll approach this with care." He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. dipped the point in ink and began to write. "First, we have to placate the king to make sure he won't fear a potential move on him. Second, if we can help sway Revidia's lesser aligned allies like the Rettanese. The Torragonese would be an obvious choice yet the task of calming tensions between them and the Virangish would be quite the task. If these goals succeed, getting my hands on Mooncasters and the such would not be the hardest move."

He looked towards her old mentor with a questioning look. "What do we do about Enth? They seem to look favorably at the Revidians but if they could be swayed to help us instead or remain neutral would lead to less overexertion of the Perrench Armee." Olivier laughed about the lofty goals. "First, get the king to agree on these. You don't want yourself to undermine him, now would you?" The boy sighed. "I don't want to do that, but we are just letting Revidia look stronger on the world stage while we could squash them like a bug if it wasn't for that troublesome alliance." Frustration build up in his tone. "Perhaps we could bolster a revolt within Segona, that could cripple them." Yvain tried to think of ways to undermine the Revidian snake. "And what of the Crissians? Would they not do the same with them if we helped Segona?" Olivier asked. "A revolt from them could make the coming war an even bigger hassle." Yvain scratched his head whilst deep in thought. "I don't understand why they won't just give them more freedom at the cost of aligning with us. Make them want to be in the Sovereign pact instead of pushing down our heel into them. It would cost us a lot less headaches."

He looked at the parchment with a frown. "These are quite a couple things we need to deal with and not make Rouis angry.." Olivier nodded with a smirk plastered on his face. "The wonderful world of diplomacy, son." The young noble could rip out his perfect blonde hair but he calmed himself. "That is why you are my greatest asset, old friend." Yvain looked at the map and pointed at Warlisz and their neighbours. "I think we should make sure our neighbours won't help the Revidians if a war comes, for that could destroy our lands." He once again leaned into his chair. "I think that is that for our current plans in these turbulent times, no?" Oliver grabbed the parchment from the table and inspected it. "I believe so." He clapped his hands. "Good, then we must come to the table with our neighbors." He paused, letting out a chuckle. "With the king's consent, of course."

Olivier nodded in agreement, his demeanor grew more serious as he considered the complex diplomatic web. "Indeed, son. The king's consent is important. We must approach him with a well-crafted plan and sound reasoning to gain his support." Olivier continued, "We should also consider the existing alliances and rivalries in the region. If they see a mutual benefit in aligning with us, it could sway their allegiance." Yvain nodded, his expression grew determined. "True, we should be prepared to offer incentives to our potential allies, whether it's trade agreements, military support, or just political aid. We must show them that aligning with us is in their best interests."

Olivier tapped his chin in thought. "And don't forget the power of diplomacy within the court as well. Winning the favor of other high nobles can be just as important. They can help sway the king and political decisions in our favor." Yvain sighed at the thought of engaging in that pit of vipers.. "I hate to admit that you're right... but you are. We should identify potential allies and assess their current stances and interests."

"And let's not forget the power of information. Knowing our enemies' plans can be a significant advantage." Yvain nodded in agreement. "You're right, Olivier. Information is power. This is why I've ordered Élisée to build up a network of informants to keep us informed. Did you think I wouldn't have my own network already in the works? You hurt me, Olivier." The older man looked at his old student with pride. "My apologies, sometimes I forget you aren't that stupid child that I had to teach basic diplomacy to anymore."

Yvain leaned over the table. "We need to bolster our internal structure as well," he said, gesturing towards the emblem of the order. "Training programs, resources, and proper mentorship will be crucial. Our knights should be paragons of power and honor." Olivier nodded in agreement. "We must instill in them the values of chivalry, loyalty, and discipline. They should be the embodiment of the collective Perrench soul and their ideals." The boy nodded back. "Bastien and Nicolas have a different expertise but I am sure that they will train the most valiant warriors for our cause. If Yvette is up for the task might give her own group of recruits but that will be something I should discuss with Nicolas first." He looked his mentor straight into his eyes. "Speaking for being up for the task, I would like to ask you to train some of them in the ways of handling beasts." Olivier hesitated. "Would it not be a shame to waste the recruits' time with an old man's tricks?" Yvain pointed his finger to Olivier's face. "No, It would be a shame if your skills die with you."

The conversation shifted to the economic aspect. "Our order must be financially stable," Yvain said firmly. "Everything that does not go to the order should be invested in trade, infrastructure, artisanship and agriculture for prosperous Berbignon lands will strengthen our position and earn the goodwill of the people." Yvain continued. "We can lure in skilled craftsmen, merchants, and scholars. Our lands should be a hub of knowledge and innovation. By spreading this knowledge, we not only strengthen our lands but also create a prosperous future for our children to inherit."

As they finally concluded their meeting, Yvain looked at Olivier. "We have our work cut out for us, my friend," he said. "But I believe in our vision. Together, we will leave a legacy that will be looked favorably upon for centuries."

The Hourglass Order

---

Within the stinking docks around Mudville two figures could be seen entering a small cabin. "There we go, we won't be heard here." A hooded figure spoke out, grabbing a bottle with two glasses out from his cloak. "Want a glass? I did my best to grab a good tasting one." Charlotte sighed. "I could never refuse a good glass of wine, can I?" "Perfect, then we can talk until the wine bottle has emptied!" He poured some in the two glasses and took himself a sip.

"So why did you wish to meet here?.. This is hardly the nicest place to truly reunite after such a while, Herr—" "Hey, hey, hey! Did I not say you shouldn't refer to me as such?" The Hooded man cut the Feskan off. "Of course, My apologies." Charlotte nodded her head. "Then, what did you wish to discuss?" The hooded figure cleared his throat. "You must have noticed it too, right?"

"Noticed what?"

"Her."

"Who?"

"...You know who I'm talking about!" He answered, his posture radiated his annoyance.

"If she concerns you so much, then why don't you just talk to her instead of observing her? I'm sure she misses you dearly."

"I… can't… I shouldn't even be here, remember?" His voice became less clear. "You have seen how she has been ever since she came back, right?"

"A grieving young woman who just lost her beloved one?" She put her hand on her chest. "I do so hope Herr Hohenfelter found a good place to rest."

"Not just grief! Do you not see it in her eyes? That same strange glint of satisfaction is not something a true grieving woman should have!"

"It is true that she has not been herself as of late, but I think that has to do with all the horrible things she has had to experience as of late."

The hooded figure took another sip of wine and sighed heavily. "Karl, I get what your reasoning is. But I can't shake this feeling that something is terribly wrong. I've been watching her from the shadows.” He paused as if he tried to find the correct words for it. "It's not like she's not herself.. it's the opposite. She is too much like herself. Someone who always had this lust for power, however now with Manfred gone she has nothing to keep that in check."

Charlotte's brow furrowed with concern. "Are you saying that perhaps she's dealing with things she shouldn't be?"

The hooded figure slammed his hand against the wall. "Exactly. And I can't just stand by and do nothing. But if I reveal myself to her… that's why I needed to talk to you, Karl. She has been like this since last year's trials…"

"I'll see what I can uncover as her aide. I would like to add that she has also been somewhat distant towards me as of late." Charlotte emptied her glass.

The hooded figure nodded in agreement. "Thank you... I knew I could count on you. Just...be careful. And if you find anything, let me know. I can't let anything happen to her."

The Hourglass Order

Preparing for the worst.

---

The Perrenchman went through his morning routine. His swings became faster and faster as he imbued them with more and more kinetic magic. More power, more finesse. he kept on repeating to himself. The power behind it was enough to fell most mages in one strike… yet not the ones he desires to battle. No matter how strong he became he was but one man going up against a group of monsters that matched his strength or far surpassed it.

With a furrowed brow and a resolute spirit, Yvain pondered the necessity of building a group against the Sanguinaire threat, perhaps a group would not suffice… an army would be needed against these beasts in a human-like appearance. Would the King of Perrence agree with his noble goals?

He clicked his tongue as he thought back to the auction.”Honorable Perrenchman that would fight for Perrence… Not disappointing ones letting such masterworks fall in the hands of barbarian folk.”a Yvain sighed at the thought of the man. ”He showed some promise at first, for a middling noble. Alas, he disappointed me thoroughly.”

With resolve, Yvain began to work on his plans. A recruitment program, a call to arms and selection for those that shared his vision, began to take shape. An order under his direct command, L'Ordre des Roses de l'Aube with the inner circle of La Rose Sanglante. Soon after he wrote the request towards the king to give the order his blessing.

After having finished the paperwork around his own order he began to think about the funds. Pelova would be a good start and he could use it to fund it directly, yet it would produce the results he wished for. He decided to write up a plan to let the great Berbignon realm prosper further. To have a city to rival the great Relouse itself. Encouraging the artisans and merchants alike. Yvain had lofty goals for the lands he was destined to inherit.

Hours passed as he kept on writing the night away before his gaze fell upon a request he had prepared for the Zenith. A request for information that was locked away. The stories about the Sanguinaires and the legend of Benedict the Blessed only tell so much about the horrid existence of the Sanguinaire. What causes their bloodlust? How did they come to be? Many questions flew through his mind as he sealed the letters with his family’s crest.

Yvain felt a surge of pride hit him. He thought back to his encounter with Radomir and smirked. Oraphe has blessed my life for this specific goal. To rid the world of the things that go against the natural way of life.

---

The night passed and the letters were dispatched towards their respective destinations. Who could I get involved in this? Penny? No, that could spread the news to Yuliya… Yuliya… She could prove to be a good ally if total eradication is not possible. She seems rather ambitious. Then the mental image of the perfect person entered his mind. Sven might be the perfect pick to involve as he owes me his life.. He thought of a list of students he could potentially approach and laughed. “Oh yeah, It’s all coming together.”

The Hourglass Order

Self reflection

---

The days back at the school have given him the comfort he sought for. It was rather noisy, especially for someone like him but it brought with it familiarity. He could be himself, there were no people around all the time to feel a need to prove himself. The air was pleasant unlike that dusty hell of An Zenui.

Fiske toyed around by creating Illusions of the things he saw. First a Cazenax, then a Sirrahi and finally a miniature Hetraxa. He tried to be as detailed but to envelop the sheer terror of such a colossal demon was too much for even someone of his skill. He tried and tried but could only make a somewhat believable illusion of the vile existence and it infuriated him. "Who in the five hells is going to believe this is the real one if they've already seen them?"

He tried to be the hero for once, tried to do good and stand up for something he deemed immoral… yet he was no hero. He was nothing but a child pretending to be a hero, a coward pretending to be brave. At the end of the day he was no Benedetto but just Fiske, someone who did not have the strength or resolve to change anything.

"Vati… Mutti… es tut mir so leid… Ich bin kraftlos…" He muttered softly to himself. "A man who could not protect his family is no man at all." Tears ran down his cheeks, reliving the memories of the past. "Family treasure this, so much promise that. Even when you’re no longer here your stupid words haunt me." He punched the wall of his dorm. "You all knew I would never live up to those expectations, even schwester dearest knew.."

The boy punched and punched until his knuckles began to bleed. Someone who gave up their old name and ran away is nothing but a coward, His fists shivered from the stinging sensation. Well that person died with everyone else! I’m never going back. He walked up towards the mirror and inspected himself. I am nothing but a ghost pretending to be someone I am not. A weak smile covered his face. If this identity is nothing but an illusion I’ll make sure it’ll be the damned best illusion there is!

”I’m going to become one that has a hundred… nay, a thousand faces.” He started with a fist raised into the air. ”I will be the coward when the play demands it. I will be the brave hero if the play demands it and I will play every other part in this play the damned best I can for I am but an actor in this massive play.” He began to work on his Hetraxa illusion once more with a content smile. ”My illusions will be the ones that are going to trick even the gods and the world itself.”

The Hourglass Order

---

Ashon goes to pick up the Sword, to grab it by the handle and examine it in his hands. As soon as his hand made contact with it. Dory grabbed the young Yasoi's arm and tugged on it. "It's a holy relic! Treat it with respect." Her eyes looked rather annoyed by the nonchalant treatment of the weapon. "And besides, what would Eschiran-Zept think if his sword was held by a non-Quentic." Ashon blinked as he was suddenly grabbed by Dorothea, and then accused in that tone.

"What would Exiran think if the weapon was handled by one who was not Chosen." He placed himself between Dorothea and the weapon as he looked down toward her. "Especially one not devout in faith"

Dory's eye twitched. "Mind repeating that?" Her palm resting on the butt of her knife. "That statement's absolutely preposterous coming from a heretic! Even the Darhannics are more worthy." Her frame went off to the side as her hand reached for the guard of the sword."You'd actually go as far as calling yourself chosen by Eschiran-Zept himself?"

Ashon simply continued to place him between himself and the blade as he questioned the girl with an eyebrow raised. "The Quentic Faith is based on our Chosen Creed, the religion of the Yasoi. You have your Avincian Emperors to thank for that. Our Gods. So who is the 'heretic' truly?" He simply shrugged his shoulders.

"You are not Sister Laska, nor Brother Baudile. Don't speak faith to me. Unlike yourself, I am similarly ordained like they are in our ways, a Chosen of Vyshta." He pointed toward the hand of Dorothea's resting on the knife, "You plan to kill for property, this be your intent? Yanii’jexoff, truly a caricature!" He shook his head side-to-side.

Dory sight started to get clouded in anger, her palm shaking and her fingers tensing up before letting out a sigh. "I do not wish to kill, I do not wish to harm. I however do not wish for a Quentic artifact to fall in the hands of a non-Quentic... Especially a non-Quentic that could let it fall into the hands of the Perrench. A Drudgunzean relic should remain with a Drudgunzean."

He smirked, darkly. "Who are you attempting to convince?", he smiled over to Brother Baudile. "Why surely, a recent devout convert like yourself should agree to entrust it to our Stressian Scholar. He after all, will remain with those of Mandelein, and truly they are the owners of this artifact, are they not?" He looked at the others, "Drudgunzean... What about your friend, or even Kaspar there?"

His eyes glinted, "Pretty little song, Faith, Culture, but should we ask our esteemed Brother who is the reigns over the realm of Greed?"

Kaspar watched with inconspicuous interest, keeping his attention feigned on the ruby in his hand. In truth, he was not religious—though he had met the beings many considered gods and could not deny their power, he questioned the blind worship of any such entity. Though both Dorothea and Ashon had heavy points as to the “rightful” keeper of the blade, he noted with amusement that the yasoi had a far stronger argument in Kaspar than he could know. Curious, his eyes strayed to Baudile, to wonder if the man that knew Mandelein to be Kaspar’s birthplace would think the same thing. For now, though, he only observed. Unintrusive, unassuming… And hopefully near-unnoticed.
Brother Baudile was caught in this uncomfortable standoff. He raised his hands, knowing full well what both these people could do.

“The Sword belongs in the hands of the worthy.” he recited. “The question is whether this sword is worth the blood of friends and family. That has often been the curse of this sword. Like all power, it seduces, and this is a great, great power.” his arms folded before him and he took a step back. “I will only take this sword if you both back down. I will not turn my back to those eyeing such a prize. That is begging Ahn-Eshiran to deliver her final blessing upon me.”

"Then let the sword go with the people of Mandelein if you really want to make that point." She then turned her gaze towards her Kressian friend. "Taleja, please... This Yasoi is being unreasonable. I do not want the Perrench to have the artefact..." Then, her eyes looked at the brother. "I will make sure it will be kept safe at the church of Wismar"

Ashon smiled widely, "You ask Taleja to fight for Exiran ?" He laughed, he really laughed. "Is that the plan, the one who sees themselves worthy of the Avatar of War asked another to fight on their behalf?" His eyes sparkled as he stared at her. "You call yourself Worthy coward? His expression darkens, "Did you run as you lover and friend were taken? My friends were taken.

Taleja simply watched with some amusement as the tensions between the pair heightened. "Only one suited for jurisdiction would be the Red Rezaindians, devout followers of Eschiran-Zept. We should await the return of Sister Laska to render judgement."

Dory's eyes widened, shocked the knife-ear said the unthinkable. "I..." Her expression changed in rapid succession, from shock to sadness, and finally to anger. She pulled out her knife and pointed at him, a black look covered her eyes. "You dare?! You dare use their passing as a justification for your own greed, you're filth..."

"Look at how the Yanii fights for property, and not the ones she loves." He looked at her knife, "Put that away before you hurt yourself and hide behind Taleja's coat-tails."

"You know nothing! I fought!... Yet you have the gall to call me a coward?..." She drew in energy, knowing quite well she would lose the fight. "Where were you, huh? I didn't see you care when they chased after the Darhannic. You were not there.... When they died, do not call me a coward for trying to save them from the Mad Avatar. I at least tried..."

Ashon raised his eyebrow. "You are not even half the thaumaturge she was. You are only here because you were that insignificant, you were overlooked, or because you ran away." He indicated to everyone in the room, "We all have faced the entire town of Mandelein, hordes of Wildbloods. Each one of us has spent their blood and sweat. Each far more deserving of this blade." He turned to take the blade by the hilt, enough of the girl.

"Hold it right there, you evil scum." She kinetically tugged it down. "Did you not think the forest was full of them? Are you really that close-minded?" Her expression darkened further. "You say we.... at least you got help against those things.... I was by myself, having to deal with them."

Ashon blinked as he used his strength to overpower the girl's attempts and grabs it. Dory's eye twitched, having lost the tug of war. "You don't understand how much I need this! I need to kill the Mad Avatar! You just want it as a little trinket, I want it as a tool for revenge to wage war against them." She yelled. "You rob me from closure with your own greed!"

"Who is the Mad Avatar exactly? Did you even see his face, what does he look like?" He moved the blade away from the girl, and began to walk away. "What does a coward want with the blade of Exiran? You are a noble girl not fit for war."

"It sounded more like a woman... Though I couldn't make out her face." if her nose could grow from making stuff up it would. "I need to have it, a divine tool to beat someone of such power... After that I can give it back to the church."

"So they introduced themselves as 'The Mad Avatar', killed Ismet and Manfred, you fought, yet you didn't see their face. Nothing distinctive in the slightest?" Ashon smiled widely, "Anything missed out?"

She panicked in her own thoughts. There might be a way to confuse him, thinking about tales from Dami's eye. "Well, there were the legs..." How could she make it look the worst for them. "One leg... to be precise..."

Ashon looked at those gathered, as he twirled the sword in his hand, inspected then sat with it placed on his lap. "As a girl on a Holy Mission. Make an oath to your Gods." He raised his brow. "We want you to declare an Oath, in accordance to your tradition, as overseen by Brother Baudile. We want you to swear to your Dami for judgement that you speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. We want you to swear to Eschiran revenge in the price of blood on the ones who killed our friends, Ismet and Manfred, so they may face justice. We want you to swear to Oraff that the blade will be used to protect against those who wish evil on this world. We want you to swear to Shune that you shall seek his counsel so you may not be led astray by dark temptation. We want you to swear to Ipte to hold love in your heart for the meek and innocent."

He then smiled, "Swear these Oaths, then I entrust this blade to you."

Baudile stepped forward, serving as holy overseer to this divine commitment Dory was going to make. He knew this was a farce. His eyes couldn't get off that foul crown. This was all too perfect. Qasem was supposedly killed given who was left, Laska had vanished and Manfred was confirmed dead. Only he knew of the true horror that was unraveling. What to do? The Monk sighed. His arms opened, one hand directed at each participant. “Hands to your hearts, my brothers and sisters.” he looked to Dorothea. “Headwear removed.” he looked sternly toward Dory. His hand reached out to her, as if he sought to take it.

Dory nodded, taking off her tiara and holding it in the hand that would touch her heart, making sure to stick it to the palm of her hand with her chemical prowess and smiled towards the monk.

Baudile did his best to keep a straight face, he really did. But that smile. The sweet, innocent smile with a colorless venom said it all. She did something. Normally he wouldn't be such a stickler for the rules, given how he lived fast himself. But this woman - Laska was right all along. “Nothing can come between you and your promise to the Gods, my dear.” again, his hand was out and his eyes on her chest.

Taleja moved toward Dory and offered her hand. "If you are concerned, I can hold that for you." she crouched near her, and spoke low. "Almost there, Dory." She looked towards her friend and shook her head. "Maybe later. A warm smile covered her face.

"My bad, dear brother." Dory got rid of the sticky substance binding her and the crown together. She put it underneath her shirt against her belly. before buttoning up. "Are we good for the oath now?" She made sure it stuck to her once more.

Taleja tilted her head as she peered at Dory stuffing her tiara down up her blouse in a rather revealing gesture as if they were common thieves. She made a note of that. Baudile frowned. She wasn't even trying to hide it. But he could not intervene in a clear duel for the Blood God's sword. Not until this was resolved. “Very well. Then I, Baudile Dubosque of the Stresian Philosophers, bear witness to this promise of the Gods. Should you break this promise, Dorothea Hohnstein, may Dami show mercy to your condemned soul!”

Ashon placed the blade where it laid before. "May one worthy of the Gods take the blade."Dory nodded. "May Dami judge my actions." walked towards the sword and grabbed it. "Eschiran empower me." Dory looked to Ashon. "Thank you... I.. apologize for my vile words... I got too angry..." She could feel the power within the blade. Vedil, I won. I won.

---

Harold's Academy for the Magically Inclined

---

Day 1 ◈ Time: night ◈ Weather: Light Rain ◈ Location: Main Ballroom ◈ Participants: Fasha Sumbul, Myrion Stevar @Teyao

---

---

Fasha heard things about the other Illuminaire’s gift, although she never paid too much attention. It had always been a point of interest in her mind but there had always been bigger fish in the pond to pay attention to. Let’s see what that gift can do four-eyes. She thought to herself, waiting in anticipation.

A confused look appeared on her face for a split second as Myrion’s hand made contact with her shoulder. She flinched almost instantaneously after. A satisfied smirk appeared on her face. This is new… Was my gift always able to do that? Fasha raised her hands as if she were a conductor ready to start their masterpiece. She winked towards Mister Stevar. ”Ten minutes, I’ll have time in excess then.”

Her hands began to gracefully move as her gift began to spread across the room, traveling around. Soon enough the first person was hit by it. The once fearful student looked calm, serene even. Student after student became ensnared only to be guided her way by the pleasant smell. Laughter escaped the Illuminaire. ”Is this the apex of my gift? Can I push it even further?” She had never been so content with her own gift, who could stop her control now? Perhaps I could even manage to control one of the professors with this. Her symphony of enthrallment raced across the ballroom.

Fasha’s eyes darted towards Myrion once more. A look of pure excitement appeared on her face. ”Once this is over, we need to meet up again. I want to see the full extent of what you can do now.” With that he was put with the other people of interest in her mind.

The Hourglass Order

Childish Reflections

---

Fiske’s feelings of guilt and anxiousness built up. Evander’s words were never nice but to see Marci in such a state made him mad, unreasonably so. He was never one to care for others, why is it different now? “With her, I won’t push,” he began implacably, “but from you, I need to know.” He clenched his fists, looked down and kept quiet. The desire to punch his noble face was almost near-impossible to resist. “What happened, boy?” he asked. “Where are Desmond and Tku, and just how much danger are we in?” It felt as if a rock was stuck in his throat.

His eyes avoided any that tried to make contact with them. How could he ever tell them the truth? If Benedetto was here he’d probably laugh at me… Call me a coward and if I told him the truth he probably wouldn't even believe me. He'd probably just go like. ”You don’t have the backbone for that. You’d just hide in the corner.” or something like that! Even thinking about that idiot hurts my head. Then his expression turned red from anger.. Something about Evander’s attitude pissed him off. It might just be in a Revidian's blood to be obnoxious. ”Why would I have to explain myself to someone who offers no value to anyone but themselves!” He stomped his feet out of frustration. ”You, You.. You damned noble simpleton! You dare to look at me as someone who’s ashamed of their actions yet what about you? All you’ve done is made things worse and gotten some nice puffs from the local herbs of this city!” He knew that it was unfair at this point to point the finger at him as he himself screwed up more than he’d like to admit. ”You disrespected the king because your damned, fragile noble heart couldn’t allow you to simply bow to someone who might be lower than yourself!” He hyperventilated, his ears ringing from his own voice echoing back.

His eyes turned watery as he began to calm himself. He looked at Jascuan and Cazelui, shaking his head. ”They’re gone.” He walked towards the room Marci yet before trying to enter he turned towards Jascuan once more with a pained expression.. ”Not dead, I think. Just… do not count on them being able to help you. Fiske sighed. ”I don’t know. We might be in big trouble or barely any. All I know is that I made sure I wasn’t followed.” His sight returned to the other room. Fiske stood there with a heavy heart. Would it really be okay for me to enter?

The Hourglass Order

A Revelation?

---

Yvain did not care too much about this fight. His lust for battle has been quenched for a while and now with his magic back did not enjoy beating on the weak. He was hit by shrapnel yet he tried to not be too bothered by the pain. A woman among the Volti stood against him. Does she intend to kill me? I do not wish to kill a lady that much weaker than me. He began to search amongst his belongings whilst holding people back with his kinetic magic. This eye thing might be able to hold her off or at least knock her out, right? Let’s test it out. He grabbed the eye device and aimed it just like the vendor told him.

It shot something so fast that it was as if he lit a small fire. It sliced the woman’s arm clean off. Huh, not what I was expecting… but interesting. When the Volti woman screamed, she did not scream in pain, hatred, or even terror, she cried out, "Do you really serve these bloodsuckers!?" she screams. "You fool! Where is your pride!? Where is your dignity!?"

His curiosity was piqued by the woman’s words. He raised his eyebrow out of confusion from what she just uttered. "Bloodsuckers? Why would I even serve anyone but my country's crown?"

She stumbled, clutching her side with her remaining arm, utterly horrified. "You don't even know!?" she coughed. "Who do you think runs this country?"

He swayed his hand. "From what I remember from reading a bit on it. They're people who left Eskand hundreds of years ago." He shrugged, gritting his teeth from the pain in his shoulder. A contorted smile formed from it. "Can't say I blame them from wanting to leave after losing a war that badly... but to call them bloodsuckers is a bit harsh, no?"

She regards him a bit dimly. "Sanguinaires, you noble twat. They're sanguinaires!" His expression was no longer the one of a smug know-it-all. "Sanguinaires.. You understand that word is not to be used lightly. Would these people really let themselves be ruled by those things?" Why was he not told this at the school? Did they know about this? Something this horrible should not be hidden from the wide world.

"Your time is coming to an end, princess. Monsters like you have no place in a civilized world." "Big talk for terrorist." she snarled back, holding a portion of her neck that still had shrapnel from Soldato's assault. "One man's terrorist is another's freedom fighter. I am satisfied with my choices," he replied. "Are you?"

Then, he had bigger problems to deal with, he saw in the corner of his eye Yvain had steadied the Burning eye and aimed...yet he halted. Something about the mention of sanguinaire did not sit right with him. His breath heavy from the shrapnel and bullet that hit him during the battle. Eyes opened wide. "This woman is a sanguinaire?"

The Volti operative smiled grimly and nodded. "Not only her."

The illusionist appeared beside Yvain, laying her hand on his shoulder. "We may not agree on much, but can't we agree on this?"

Yvain looked conflicted. Penny's friend was inhuman filth? A dirty bloodsucker? He nodded, his eyes shining with a determined glow. "We can agree on the horrid fact that their rule over man is something that is utterly unacceptable." His Burning Eye device turned towards their weakened comrade.

Then another inhuman thing appeared with what looked like to be Penny?... Her body limp, impaled. The body was dropped by the beast and Yvain’s eyes wished they did not witness said event. He ran as fast as he could towards the falling body, but he couldn't make it yet Oksana was closer and caught his cousin effortlessly. Helooked to Penny as she was being healed by Oksana. Tears began to flow down his face as he prayed to Oraphe-Sept. Penny pulled in a deep breath and then let out a cough.Penny rolled onto her side, sniffing.
She looked up to see Yvain and Oksana
"Oraphe soit loué," she whispered. "Tu as ma sincère gratitude." She reached up and kissed Oksana on the cheek in thanks. A warm smile covered his tears-covered face. ”Oraphe a écouté.”

But then they were not alone.
Coccinella landed.
The remaining Volti operatives regrouped.
Giallo and his squad of eight arrived.
Sixteen surrounded them.
Including one of the original wildbloods.
Coccinella spread her multitude of insectile arms.
"For too long, we have run and hid from these monsters!" the thresher-beast proclaimed. "For too long, they have stepped on the common people, fed upon them, and bled this land dry."

The new presence dropped the body, one of the main Volti. Floating in the air, he turned and tilted his head.He regarded Sorriso and Coccinella as he took a pair of knives from his pocket. His gaze was cold and unblinking It sent a shiver down Yvain’s spine. "You have five seconds to get out of my city." Whatever they missed earlier, the students, the Volti operatives, and all of those nearby see Soldato's body fell. He saw the power of Radomir. He heared his words. This person was something else. He was not a prodigy like him. He felt like something beyond even the greatness of himself. Who the hells is this? Perhaps the emperor…. Is King Rouis truly that weak compared to other rulers?