Fantasy Drums of War [IC][Closed]

[Emperor Sagan]

Rudolf Friar nodded once again to the handsome young man as he introduced himself, and likewise to Rutu as she was introduced and spoke in turn. Her persona had elicited a sorcerous inclination, and he was pleased he seemed correct in assuming as much; though his first thought was one of shamanistic status rather than one with a title as 'war-witch.' It was a powerful name that stirred an even deeper interest. "A pleasure to meet you both, Captain Sulzbach and Miss Nax'ya, if I do say that correctly. We people of Vallach - and House Valentova - are quite attuned to matters of spiritual and ethereal nature," he said with a soft smile.

His eyes then narrowed in an almost coy fashion. "Regretfully, we make no claim to such... delectable titles of spirit oracle or war-witch these days as, well, the rumors of our lands are driven both by excited imagination and exaggerated history. Anyone calling themselves a Vallachian wizard would, I suspect, cause some panic hereabouts." It was of course taboo to make the mere mention of necromancy and other darker things, so Friar steered well clear of alluding to such things. "Still, we may find much common ground over such an intimate field of study. Vallach is a land of spirits."

The chamberlain turned his attention fully back to the gentleman. "I do speak on behalf of my Lady, but I am not here to press any such responsibilities upon yourself, good sir Sulzbach. I wished to make introductions with a house as venerable as yours in a less... formal fashion, given that my Lady is an energetic one and I am sure that a lord of your master's status is decidedly firm. There has been much formality in this day already, I believe. It may do us all well to speak on more level grounds without resulting to swapping masks for every person we meet."

"Our distance to your lands makes news of your domain somewhat sparse. The few Glyrran we have seen belonged to merchant caravans, and I am aware of no family in our registries of such people, though I vaguely recall encountering one within a prison-tower," Friar explained. "I suspect with the conclusion of the war there is relative peace in your lands now?"

It was a question he already knew the answer to, for he found underplaying the information he already retained allowed him to draw in other parties; it also provided a convenient opening to fast-tracking discussion on military and economic matters that could reach the ear of Lord Lazarus von Holt, even as a whisper. So long as the idea existed in some respect within his circle.

From the corner of his view he noticed the figure of a half-masked woman. It took him a moment to realize that she was most likely the stewardess of House Froste. He was well aware of the previous lord's passing and wished to offer his condolences, for House Froste was a fair house of good status, and another potential ally or - at the very least - a house to not be counted as an enemy.

Friar turned slightly towards the woman and bowed in a gentle manner. "Hello, madam. Would you care to join us? It may be a rare moment of respite in which we are not surrounded by the highest lords and ladies of the land, however brief our time may be. That is, of course, if you neither of you object, Captain Sulzbach and Miss Nax'ya?"

---

"Ah! Forgive my lack of introductions. I am Ser Karr von Babel, Lord-Margrave of Vallach. It is my honored duty to command the communal defense of my Lady Valentova's realm," the large satyr said, nodding in a curt but polite military manner. As far as his kind went, he was more goat than man, with thick black fur and metal-capped horns that seemed just as functional as they may have been ornate. He was dressed in dark plated armor over a tan buff coat, with a small crimson half-cloak resting over one shoulder. Upon him was not a sheathed sword, but rather a medium-length warhammer resting at his hip on a custom holster. For those who knew much of Vallachain knights, they prized themselves on masterful artistry dedicated to bonded weapons. While they remained proficient in various other common weapons - swords and spears in particular - there was a deep connection between a Vallachain knight and their bonded weapon.

"I wanted to say hello to you good folks. It is rare to speak with warriors of distant realms given my home duties. How goes the defense of the Wall? I am sure I could convince my Lady to send more bodies if you require them. Small crimes often face labor, while we bleed... well, execute our murderers. I expect you'd mostly get thieves, poachers, and lunatics from us. Perhaps some cultists, though we prefer to... deal with them, for all our sake," von Babel explained. "Some years ago I recall allowing a few wagons to go north with deserters, though I don't know if they ever made it. The wagoneers returned with more money than they left with and some souvenirs from territory they were not meant to travel through. Frankly, I would not be surprised if most soldiers given over to such duty drop the wagons in a river and go whorin' and drinkin' through the nearest towns."

 

[K0mori]

"A pleasure to meet you both, Captain Sulzbach and Miss Nax'ya, if I do say that correctly. We people of Vallach - and House Valentova - are quite attuned to matters of spiritual and ethereal nature," he said with a soft smile.

His eyes then narrowed in an almost coy fashion. "Regretfully, we make no claim to such... delectable titles of spirit oracle or war-witch these days as, well, the rumors of our lands are driven both by excited imagination and exaggerated history. Anyone calling themselves a Vallachian wizard would, I suspect, cause some panic hereabouts." It was of course taboo to make the mere mention of necromancy and other darker things, so Friar steered well clear of alluding to such things. "Still, we may find much common ground over such an intimate field of study. Vallach is a land of spirits."

Rutu's soft, unfocused expression belied a gnawing anxiousness which grew the more Ser Friar spoke to her. His background and demeanor suggested a familiarity with the very same arts she made mockery of. At any moment, a careless word might expose her as a charlatan to the Vallachs, and even if her Lord had already anticipated that some would not be fooled by her antics, she was obligated to press on with the act until such exposure took place, and not a moment before.

Dominik kept his eye on her, wondering how she would respond to Ser Friar's invitation. Of course she would need to decline, but how to do so diplomatically, and without giving away the game? At once he worried for his Lord's position as well as cursed him silently, as his conceit for the other nobles may one day be his undoing.

"All lands are lands of spirits," Rutu countered, "for they serve as our guidance eternal, ser. But those with grace to listen may be invited to speak, and they are powerful indeed. But I seek not to speak for any cause but to restore the natural order, as my ancestors deem it. If such a dialogue between our houses brings us all closer to harmony, then I would call such dialogue ordained... Nay, more than that. 'Tis an obligation."

The color drained from Dominik's face. What in the name of the Five is she doing?

Rutu gave a slight bow to punctuate her response with humbleness and sincerity.

The chamberlain turned his attention fully back to the gentleman. "I do speak on behalf of my Lady, but I am not here to press any such responsibilities upon yourself, good sir Sulzbach. I wished to make introductions with a house as venerable as yours in a less... formal fashion, given that my Lady is an energetic one and I am sure that a lord of your master's status is decidedly firm. There has been much formality in this day already, I believe. It may do us all well to speak on more level grounds without resulting to swapping masks for every person we meet."

"Our distance to your lands makes news of your domain somewhat sparse. The few Glyrran we have seen belonged to merchant caravans, and I am aware of no family in our registries of such people, though I vaguely recall encountering one within a prison-tower," Friar explained. "I suspect with the conclusion of the war there is relative peace in your lands now?"

"N-no. I mean, yes. I-" Dominik stammered for a moment before regaining his composure. "I beg your pardon, ser, I was lost in thought. The Redlands are, as you say, 'relatively' peaceful compared to what they were during the revolt, but it is a tenuous exercise," he answered. "My Lord is often frustrated by the chief concern of security eclipsing all others within his domain. Should there come a day when the Redland's finances can be diverted away from the mercenaries, I am sure it would be a great relief to the people and a welcome opportunity for trade."

Dominik's response had echoed the sentiments that Lazarus wished to be echoed, but there was an underlying skepticism that the Chamberlain caught on to, wholly separate from the Captain's obvious befuddlement at Rutu's statements. Perhaps Dominik didn't really believe that true peace was attainable, or maybe he simply hated the glyrrans as so many others did, and didn't truly want for peace in the way that Lord von Holt opined for it. Whatever the case, the Captain had inadvertently set a pessimistic tone.

Friar turned slightly towards the woman and bowed in a gentle manner. "Hello, madam. Would you care to join us? It may be a rare moment of respite in which we are not surrounded by the highest lords and ladies of the land, however brief our time may be. That is, of course, if you neither of you object, Captain Sulzbach and Miss Nax'ya?"

"Oh, of course we would be honored," Dominik quickly answered. He was greatly relieved to have someone else present who might occupy Ser Friar's attention more than Rutu could.

Rutu gave another bow for Maria, more deeply this time as it was a greeting. "Shall this fourth note complete the chord?" she mused.

I don't even know what that means.

Everything was moving uncomfortably quickly. When Lazarus was present, Rutu knew how much to play her hand based on how he introduced her, and how his body language dictated his opinion of others. But now she was meeting nobles from faraway places and had no choice but to clown them relentlessly. What if it turned out that Lazarus actually respected House Valentova or House Froste, and that her acts would anger everyone involved? His words rang in her head again: no dignity in the midst of fraud.

She knew that when it all came crashing down, she would be the only one to really pay the price, as rich and powerful Imperial men rarely suffered any lasting consequences unless they came at the end of a sword or the tip of an arrow. Lazarus would be fine, shrugging off his practical joke between goblets of drink and assuring his fellow nobles that he would keep their embarrassment secret from the public. Rutu, meanwhile, would probably (finally) face the chopping block once she could no longer provide entertainment for her hosts or sell out any more of her countrymen.

But, then again, there was plenty of time left to think of another lie. She put on a calm smile and rose, meeting the critical gaze of the newcomer.

---
​

"Let us be hoping it is one of the thousand, Ser," she said whilst strolling over to the finely constructed window. "A man of his condition does not deserve new ones."

Lowering her journal upon viewing the wondrous view the Spire had over a the palace and the city beyond, Adelaide nodded to Highlord Vigot with a smile. "Mi-Yan Saht, Wall Keeper, this envoy hopes Emperor hears you well."

She then a made a point of bringing her free hand to her chest before giving a slight bow towards Lazarus.

"Ter-Lu Saht, Ser," she said as she rose. "Adelaide of the Coincounter Consortium. This envoy hears much of your Redlands, and is wishing for your success as well."

"A pleasure it is to meet you, Adelaide," Lazarus declared. "I agree that we could all use less problems. In fact, if I could be so wildly optimistic, I would venture to say that half of the Empire's problems could be opportunities for the right man at the right moment. Maybe this meeting will prove to strengthen us in ways we haven't anticipated."

"I cannot pretend to know what the Emperor wants to discuss. I can guess by me being here that he would wish to talk about the issues the Watchmen face on the wall and beyond it. I would also assume the same is true for whatever issues you face in the Redlands, lord." He paused for a moment to think "Which, I have to confess some ignorance on. The men and women who do come from your lands have little interest in the politics. They rather curse your name."

Lazarus was disappointed but unsurprised by the High Lord's lack of insight into the Emperor's intentions. Everything about this tournament and summons reeked of cloaked motives from the start, and so Lazarus fully expected Verus to keep his cards close to his chest until the exact moment it became useful to reveal them, however noble his intentions might be.

He smirked at Vigot's final comment, however. Amused, he swirled the wine in his goblet and replied: "So let them; their lives don't matter in the slightest."

 

[joshuadim]

The Imperial Library
Vexumin [Kyraug]
​

When Kyraug entered the library, pushing through two heavy wooden doors, what immediately stood out to him was the vast scale that was presented before him. Shelves upon shelves, with tomes, manuscripts, and books of all kinds lay dormant in their respective regions on platforms of immaculately carved wood that not only lined the walls of the area but also created rows and columns from the shelves in between. The smell of paper and leather bindings hit the Vadyeen as though the air here had not been changed for a century. For an erudite, this might as well have been paradise to have access to such boundless amounts of knowledge both great and small - and even for someone like Kyraug, he could see that this place was an academic gold mine. But he was not alone in the library as he searched for a piece to read; an man as ancient as gravel sat near the far end and looked to be utterly concentrated on writing a manuscript. The sounds of Kyraug's entry did not even register to him as he continued to audibly write with a quill onto parchment.

There were also two guards on duty, though not of the Imperial Guard nor of the Redguard. Rather, they bore the insignia of the all too familiar House Kalfas as they stood at attention nearby. They gave Kyraug a glance for a moment before moving back towards loitering on duty. seemingly disinterested in the Vadyeen as he was entirely unarmed. Being left to his devices, the histories region of the library. This area was perhaps the most expansive out of everything that had been collected here, as one could see various works for not just regions or time periods of the Empire, but also of other places of the world as well. The Southron Realms, the Free Cities, the Glyrran Tribes, Arathor's Conquests, The Kingdom of the Isles, the now dead dwarves and so much more; all of which were readily available for Kyraug to choose from at his leisure.

His mind did settle on a random book that he withdrew from the shelf in front, and took a glance at the cover to see the history of Jendrick I, often given the unfortunate moniker of "the Doomed" as being the last descendent of Arathor I.

​

With this reading material acquired, Kyraug took a seat at a nearby area that housed several chairs for those visitors that wished to peruse the contents of such a vast archive. But as he took a seat, he quickly realized he was not alone - a young man, practically a boy still, sat nearby in the furthest corner as if trying to stay out of sight entirely, peered out from over his own reading material and looked at Kyraug with curiosity before gulping. "Oh, h-hello." Prince Lodric spoke with the meekness of a mouse. "I didn't think I would be joined by anyone."

---

Stonewall, Ifosea
Vexumin [Damik]

​

As Damik left the Imperial palace with his accompanying troupe down towards the city, he embarked to journey towards the district of Stonewall - renowned for its markets as well as its cobbled, stoned streets and buildings. It was the second largest district in the city, behind the Gutters and its masses, that invited the merchants of both this realm and the realms beyond it to set up shop and sell their wares. The artisans too had shops aplenty for whatever needs one could imagine, ranging from leatherworking and tailoring to that of the blacksmithing and woodcarvers - all were readily available for Damik to look about from if he needed anything in particular. The bustling of the streets surrounded him, but broke apart like water under a ship as people went out of their way to avoid the armed guards that Damik had brought along with him as they recognized his stature and title.

There too was Arathor's Square where, on arrival, Damik could feel the scent of incenses and spices from the South and far-East hit his senses. The square itself, while originally intended as a public space, has been the largest market region of the district for centuries now. And at its centre, surrounded by other stalls and sellers, was a statue of the founder of the Empire himself - Arathor the Conquerer. Carved from marble and polished to perfection, it was an imposing man given a statue that one could only imagine only captured a fragment of the great man's character in all his magnificence.

And it was not just Imperial subjects that comprised the sellers here - there were all matter of races that had taken shop here from foreign lands for the time being. Satyrs from the Free Cities, Glyrrans from their tribal isles, the Isle-men to the West, the Southron Merchants, the Silk merchants of the Eastern Empires across the sea, the Goblin craftsworkers of the deep reaches of the world elsewhere, the Otter-folk with their traveling barges come to rest here. It was a staggering amount of diversity on display.

There was simply too much variety for the young Lord to choose a single one from, as it seemed that one could spend a lifetime searching through Stonewall's markets without having even scratched the surface of what is available. But, eventually, as Damik's attention drifted from stall to stall, something did catch his eye: a lone man with a stall. set off the main paths of the market itself, that did not seem to sell anything. This was odd, considering the wares that were available in such abundance in the other stalls. His curiosity peaked, Damik approached the stall with his guards as the veiled man looked up to the young Lord.

The man was wreathed in black cloth that covered his head and face entirely, save for the slits of his eyes that peered out like pearls to Damik. Was he blind? Or something else entirely?

"Greetings, Young Lord. Are you here to peruse my wares?" he asked with a raspy tone and a thick accent that Damik could not place.

---

The Imperial Garden

Enya Kragh Interaction: Infab [Maria]
​

After the retinue of House Kragh were settled in their respective quarters, the trio of Uchtred's grandchildren met outside quickly along with Calder to discuss what they would do. "I think I'll take a look at the Lord's lounge." Riseig announced, "It will be important to talk to the other Lords of the realm... I don't think we'll ever get as good of a chance like this." Reimar was inclined to agree as he gave a nod, but Calder was more or less unconvinced: "It's best to stay away from that den of Vipers... especially without Lord Kragh." the Wulpine spoke with concern, "Perhaps-"

"Perhaps it's better to look at the city?" Ser Harald then spoke, having exited his own room. "As much as I hate this godsforsaken place, there is nothing like it back North." Reimar considered the prospect before changing his mind: "Well then, Ser, where would you visit?" Reimar said with a laugh.

Harald stuck his thumbs in between his belt and trousers before looking off into the distance: "A nice bathhouse and a woman to feed me grapes."

The answer brought laughs out from the Kragh grandchildren and from Calder as well, having been taken off guard by the man-at-arm's candor. "What are you laughing at me for? You all need a bath too! The journey here didn't exactly have the *best* accomodations." Harald then growled in playful annoyance, before rubbing both Reimars and Riseig's heads.

Enya however, had different ideas: "I'll be visiting the Garden... I hear it is quite majestic." she said, quickly walking off before anyone could comment or object.

"...I don't see what's so majestic about flowers." Riseig muttered before shrugging, "I'll still go to the Lounge. I'll ask grandfather if he wishes to come."

Reimar raised one of his arms and smelled, giving off an exaggerated grimace. "Eugh, I guess I'll go to the bathhouse as well. I smell like a horse."

Enya rushed out through the halls and made her way out to the Gardens, with some helpful directions from one of the Palace servants, and was awestruck by the floral collection on display. Each and every single section that her eyes set upon were equally as enticing to visit, observe, and simply take in the perfumes of. She could *feel* the life blooming here... though it was hard to explain to anyone what she meant by that. It was one of those impossible to describe feelings that words fail to describe. But there was also the matter of the tree at the very centre. It towered over practically everything else here, and held no leaves nor flowers of any kind. It was... bare. Strangely so, given the verdant life on display around it. She could only wonder as to what it actually was as she then walked about.

Many other Lords and Ladies had gathered here, and Enya made out bits and pieces of conversations. A lord from Dragon's Fang Bay spoke to a peer from the Riverlands about Prince Cabrus... while another spoke to a lady about rumours he had heard about Prince Davin...

This was not simply a meeting place - but a spider's web of intrigue that she had stumbled into. She had to on guard as she nervously breathed in and walked around the edges to avoid attracting attention. But in her concentration to avoid interactions, she accidentally stumbled into a masked woman and nearly crashed into her. "Oh, I apologize my Lady." Enya quickly spoke as she gave a quick curtsy, "I, uh... I was distracted." But Enya's demeanour changed when she noticed that it was not simply a cosmetic choice that Maria's mask served, but that there was visible scarring that stretched out near it as well. The woman was, or had been, wounded or hurt somehow?

She could not imagine what caused this, and made a note in her mind to not speak about it in case it was a touchy subject. "I hope I have not offended you in any manner."

---

Lord Harkren Interaction: Emperor Sagan [Annaliese]
​

While many were at the Gardens to observe its beauty, or to gossip and exchange secrets, Lady Valentova's arrival was for a much more formal matter. On approach to where Lord Harkren had mentioned, at the furthest end of the gardens to where marbled railings lined the edges, sat a quaint pavilion that was open to the fresh air of the sea-breeze that blew gently at this altitude. There, Annaliese could see that Florina sat by herself with a pot of tea and two cups for the both of them - she observed the distant sky and waters, just barely seeing the distant shores of the mainland itself, before turning her attention to the arrival of Lady Valentova.

"Good. You're here." she stated as she poured into both their cups. "A good thing that they have all manner of teas from practically everywhere. I dismissed the servant, so we will be alone for this conversation."

It was a black tea with a fruity-herbal aroma that arose from the liquid, its flavors inviting and warm as Valentova took the seat across from Lord Harkren at the table that was here. "We can skip the formalities. You don't like me. I don't like you. We don't *have* to like one another, but we can agree that survival is our priority - no?"

Before Annaliese could respond, Lord Harkren continued: "My sister already has machinations in plan to bring not just ruination on my House, but also the Hinterlands. I suspect she has already aligned herself and her entire region to one of the Princes. Whatever course of action that is taken, must be carefully considered. Do tell, what do you know of the Princes Landon, Cabrus and Maril thus far to your best knowledge?"

 

[GrieveWriter]

Adelaide
[Highlord Vigot] Breadman [Lord Lazarus von Holt] K0mori
With introductions out of the way, Adelaide was free to let that window steal her gaze once again. While not quite as ornate as some of the more flowery displays down in the Palace proper, the one in the Tower was inspiring more from its simplicity than anything else. The glass was tinged only slightly, combined with the sun it made the Golden District truly live up to its name. Through that window the capital looked to be a heavenly metropolis with a shimmering aura belying wealth and power. Even the less impressive districts further out held an air of potential under that shiny glow the window offered.

Despite having been called to the Spire several times since she began her work as Envoy, Adelaide could not stop her eyes from wandering to the display of simple brilliance. And yet her ears remained with Lazarus and Vigot, her head tilting at the mention of how many opportunities the issues of the Empire offered.

"Opportunities..." she repeated slowly, sounding out the word to herself with a frown. Despite the optimistic spin Lazarus put on it, Adelaide couldn't help but recall how deadly opportunism had been for the Empire and its allies in the past. While the right men acting out could drag the Empire to a new age of power and wealth, the wrong men acting could just as easily doom them all. But she could not let such thoughts sour the mood, instead she held back a snicker upon picturing certain opportunists from the Consortium salivating at such a statement from the leader of the Redlands.

Which was why when Highlord Vigot spoke of his ignorance of Lazarus' problems, she didn't hide the smile it brought as she finally looked away from that window. Waiting until after Lazarus had spoken, she lowered her head towards Vigot in another small bow.

"Forgive this envoy, but I am wishing for this ignorance, Wall Keeper." she chuckled before turning her gaze on Lazarus again "With many sorries to you, Ser, your lands have been mentioned to this envoy more than I could count."

With one hand sliding her journal into some inner compartment of her dress, Adelaide gave a nod to him before clasping her hands together.

"You have merchants near and far watching with held breath." she shrugged "Many go pale when even mere rumors of troubles come round. I am hoping the woes of the tradefolk are far from truth, one would think every rambling Kithis Rebel was the end of us all."

As she spoke, Adelaide noted the Servant drawing near. Having initially written him off due to the sheer status of the others in the waiting room, Adelaide took the brief lull in conversation to glance his way. Upon seeing him silently nod down to the pitcher of wine he held, Adelaide craned her neck over and gave a whiff of the air. Though she closed her eyes and hummed in delight, she waved the servant off with a smile and a shake of her head.

Harnash Vineyard made some of the finest wine in all of Aakos, and it smelled like heaven for her nerves. But Adelaide would need her senses as clear as possible until the sun well and truly went down. To truly indulge would leave her too worn and tired to get anything done, even if she only drank what was offered. She would have to see about getting some later before she slumbered, she was growing certain that she would need it once all was said and done.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Both Siert and Coen leaned back then looked at each other as if the pair were communicating. A visible expression of scepticism rested on the knight-errant's face as he heard Lord Jomier's 'friend' complement his skills. While Coen, for an avian, looked amused at the whole accusation. Siert's two fingers tapped the wooden wall of the mug. He glanced sideways to the patrons, as if inspecting them or expecting someone to stroll up. A sigh was released before Siert spoke with a sombre, apathetic tone. "Can't say I agree with your friend." He countered. "My skills are middling, not worthy of high-praise. They get the job done and put food on the table, I practice here or there." He waves his mug to the left then right. "Honestly, I would think your friend would mention my, heh, periapt." His fingers unwrapped from the mug and thumb motioned to the bird sitting on his shoulder.

At which point Coen retaliated by pecking the side of Siert's head with his sharp beak. Siert winced in pain. "Alright, alright, settle down, you're not trinket or charm." He cajoled Coen's fury. He looked back to Jomier Kelfas. "See what I mean? This vicious hunter is an amazing intellectual." The man leaned over on the table. "One time, I was with a band of mercenaries, needed to purge a vile nest of bandits in the Riverlands, my motherland. And you know what this bird did? He swooped in, took a planted torch or firebrand, whatever, and dropped it on their tents." He recalled excitedly his companion's deed. "After that we rode in on horseback and cut them down. Poor bastards never saw it coming."

"Setting it aside, with what you just told me of the Lion then his crippling should come swiftly and easily. I've dealt with flail-wielders before, many relay on the chaoticity of their weapon to render their opponent off-balance, I expect the Lion to be different howe'er, he'll not likely fall into the same pits as others but I have a maneuver in store for that ocassion."

joshuadim

 

[Breadman]

"If you did care about them, then they wouldn't be so many of them manning the wall." The Highlord gave a dry answer to Lazarus "Though their loss is our gain, so I don't complain." His eyes shifted to Adelaide as she informed what the merchants have said. "Should I send more watchmen down the roads? Surely your dungeons would benefit from reduced capacity in trying times." Like a crow flying above a dying animal, Vigot noticed an opportunity to extract something more. The reputation of the Watchment is well earned from the Highlords employing the same tactics. Desperate scavengers to some, opportunistic commanders to others.
---
"The easiest way to prevent that is to hand over any prisoners to watchmen who come to collect. We have plenty of murderers on the wall, ser." Pila once again would give a simple answer. Her stance shifting to be more relaxed. "They're usually put into the shock troop squads and let loose against the wild folk who dare come near." She looked to her fellow watchman "Rangers and scouts make use of the thieves and crooks far better."

"This is true. I escaped the hangman's noose for theft and look at me now. Keeping an eye on vast swaths of snow and ice, with this metal piece on my head." Goldbert gently knocked his metal mask with the knuckle of his index finger. "We would gladly welcome our new brothers and sisters atop the wall, ser. If they can't function in your society, we'll teach them how to do so in ours."

"We advise putting the deserters in heavy chains first." Pila once again chimed in. "A beating or two before leaving won't ruin the stock, but best not to break anything important. We already have one blind doctor among our number."

"Surprisingly competent, however." The scoutmaster added "I hesitate to say if he is the best we have, but not many graduates of the medical colleges are eager to head to the frozen north. Unless they have a touch of madness that is." He shrugged "Or have done unspeakable experiments with cadavers."

 

[Infab]

"Hello, madam. Would you care to join us? It may be a rare moment of respite in which we are not surrounded by the highest lords and ladies of the land, however brief our time may be. That is, of course, if you neither of you object, Captain Sulzbach and Miss Nax'ya?"

"Oh, of course we would be honored."

"Shall this fourth note complete the chord?"

Maria couldn't help but slightly smirk at Rutu. She's entertaining, at least. "If you'll have me, of course." stated the tall, dark stewardess. But before she could move towards them, she felt a gentle bump. Someone had just walked into her.

Maria glanced back, turning her head so that she could see the individual with her lone good eye, and noticed that it was Enya Kragh. The beautiful granddaughter of Lord Uchtred Kragh. Maria gazed down at the young woman, eye firmly locked onto the woman whom apologized and gave a quick curtsy.

"Oh, I apologize my Lady. I, uh... I was distracted."

Maria watched, however, as Enya noticed her face. Particularly the scarring on its right side mostly hidden by the leather half-mask she was wearing. Enya's demeanor changed near immediately. Maria remained the same, however. Stone-faced. She knew that people would notice the scarring, as much as she tried to hide it. Her damaged eye was the most obvious part, an orb of abyssal black with what was left of her iris carved into colorful shards. But she wouldn't let other's looks, thoughts, and feelings on the matter bother her. Especially not here, in front of all the others.

"I hope I have not offended you in any manner."

"No, dear, you haven't. Do try to be more careful, though." she responded, "Distractions lead to accidents. And I'd rather you not come to harm."

She stepped aside, moving towards where Ser Friar, Rutu, and Dominik were standing. Out of Enya's path, if she wished to continue on-wards through the gardens. "Pleasure to meet you, Captain, as well as your theatrical associate. I believe I've not met you before either, Ser Friar, though I have met your liege." she said, her eye shifting between the three before coming to rest on Ser Friar. "I am Maria Cavell. Stewardess of House Froste, and chief advisor to Lord Oliver Froste."

 

[K0mori]

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain, as well as your theatrical associate. I believe I've not met you before either, Ser Friar, though I have met your liege." she said, her eye shifting between the three before coming to rest on Ser Friar. "I am Maria Cavell. Stewardess of House Froste, and chief advisor to Lord Oliver Froste."

Dominik mustered up a smile in response to Maria's barb, wishing he could somehow telepathically communicate how much his "associate" was getting on his nerves with her theatrics as well as he introduced the both of them by first name, which Ser Friar had omitted. Rutu, on the other hand, merely nodded the whole time as if the comment had flown completely over her head. Both were happy to throw attention back to House Valentova, and followed Maria's lead.

---
​

"You have merchants near and far watching with held breath." she shrugged. "Many go pale when even mere rumors of troubles come round. I am hoping the woes of the tradefolk are far from truth, one would think every rambling Kithis Rebel was the end of us all."

Lazarus hadn't replied to Vigot's comments, as it seemed that both men held the same understanding of the situation. Providing an outlet for the numerous political criminals within the Redlands, those who had cheated taxes, those who had aided the glyrrans in their efforts to frustrate the order of law, and so on, relieved Lazarus of the duty of feeding and sheltering those who would undermine civilized society. Once they had gone north, they no longer mattered, but it was good that Vigot could bring about some practical use for them.

Adelaide provided far more intriguing matters to converse about. "I can understand that fear. When one places so much focus on a single aspect of life, then any complication in that regard is magnified. You cannot blame them for feeling as if their world is under threat. But I am concerned with many issues in my territory of varying nature, and no single issue disturbs my sleep." He leaned forward in his chair, having sipped the last of his wine out of the goblet, and looked at the other two as if he held the world in the palm of his hand.

"As investment flows in, so too does the lifeblood of my administration. From the guardsmen in the mines, in the villages, on the roads, and at the ports, to the shipwrights and inspectors and stevedores, to the taxmen and the accountants, the engineers, the workmen, and so on- it all originates with a spark of coin from abroad. In return for that investment, goods are safely retrieved from their stores beneath the earth and stone, or from the fields and the rivers and coasts, and are sent out on galleys and oxcarts to lands abroad, where the investments pay dividends. My land flourishes, the cities swell with clean and educated citizens, and gradually the unwashed and savage past of the Redlands slips away into history.

"If the merchants who provide that spark were to pull their support, the entire system would collapse. The mineral and agricultural wealth has no value if it cannot be moved. But I don't need to fear such a thing will ever happen. If one crop of merchants is dumb enough to deny that spark and leave all that glitters behind, then there will be others who see that opportunity, and would flock to buy in. It really is that simple."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Ser Rudolf Friar raised an ever so slight brow at the somewhat discomforted expression on Captain Sulzbach's face as Rutu spoke. The woman spoke in a manner that seemed... poetic, in a sense, with a careful measured meter that reminded him a great deal of the more traditional bog witches, though so much of that was rife with fanciful tales spun from the minds of energetic youth. Rutu struck him as composed in the more professional sense, no doubt an aspect to the people of her station. It was rather sad so few Glyrrans ever made it to Vallach, as he suspected they would fit in well enough despite whatever differences would arise. Annaliese will want to meet this one, he thought.

"Harmony is certainly a favored outcome in these trying times," Friar mused aloud after the witch finished speaking; since she bowed, he returned the gesture in a short and simple polite fashion.

The captain remained flustered, it seemed, and Friar watched him gently as he spoke. It was rather cute to see a fair knight lose his composure in such a way, though he was quick to adjust. A mild-mannered countenance was refreshing to encounter in a world of metaphorical masks and chains, though such things were real enough, too, if one dared to peer into the lives of any aristocrat. Blood, coin, and domination were the root of everything, after all. Gentle souls were deserving of cultivation and protection to avoid the corrupting factors of such, and Friar hoped young Master Desmond was getting on well with the servant staff. Lady Valentova was eager for him to... mingle with the people of the Imperial court, but Friar did not wish to see a good pupil fall under the sway of any bad influences. Gods above knew - bad influence was effectively synonymous with nobleman.

"Ah, I get your meaning, ser. Mercenary bands are a difficult beast to tangle with. Their motivation can be questionable and their price remarkable. It is certainly a deep misfortune to rely on them for realm security, which is such a crucial concern for any intelligent lord," Friar said. His expression changed little, though he allowed a small pause. "We people of Vallach rely greatly upon our history of knightly orders and chapters for our... peacekeeping. Their size is often diminutive, that is true, but you will find no better motivated and professional force in all the Hinterlands - even across the continent, I dare say. Many chapters even boast their own men-at-arms and clerics. Perhaps if... you and your lord are interested... I am sure a chapter or two of Vallachian knights would be more than happy to assist you in your matters of security. Why - we even traveled here with a fair many for the tournament," Friar said, a wide smile breaking out at last.

"After all, as useful as mercenaries can be, the thirst for blood can be more alluring and effective than the thirst for mere coin. At least one is actually edible," he added with a little laugh. "Of course, I am merely speaking ideas, good ser Sulzbach. When problems arise it is my function to correct them, after all, and mercenaries and their financial toll seem to be one of yours."

Lady Maria Cavell moved to join them, and Friar noted the rumors of her condition seemed true, at least from appearances. However, before he could speak up, a little butterfly of a girl bumped into Maria. One of the Kragh family, Friar knew. He remembered seeing her earlier, but now that she was up close, he studied her features to commit her image to memory so he would not forget a potential hook. He doubted there was little he could get out of the girl - threats would certainly yield nothing, least of all against the Kraghs - but one who seemed unaccustomed to the world here could always prove to be a useful stepping stone.

"Ser Rudolf Friar, Chamberlain of House Valentova, at your service, madam," Friar said, conducting a short bow after Maria's introduction. "I don't believe we have met either, Stewardess, but I believe we share the same station to our masters. Admittedly - I did not know you were already acquainted with Lady Valentova. I am sure she will be much delighted to meet you again. She is... has grown to be quite a mature young lady, though no less energetic, I can assure you. But foremost - I really must express my condolences for your loss. Lord Oliver has large shoes to fill, so to speak, but he is fortunate to be surrounded by immensely caring retainers."

---

Ser von Babel nodded and chuckled along with the wall wardens. "Perhaps we can spare a few murderers. We don't get many of the cold-hearted sort - mostly passionate fellows with hot-tempers or drunkards with too heavy a swing - but they'll be put to good work up north, I reckon. Though if it is physicians that interest you, we recently had a surgeon condemned to a prison-tower for putting his sewing skills to use on things other than cloth and living flesh. He's a young fellow, too. Touch of the madness I believe."

"Regardless - we'll have to organize one of your watchmen to come down to get them, so we don't have any more missing shipments, so to speak. All told I think right now you'll get about two dozen or so fit for the wall. There is also the matter of the lunatic's tower that... well, I don't suppose you'd want actual madmen. More likely to gnaw off their own hands than fight the enemy."

---

Lady Valentova eyed the offered tea with some distaste, sniffing at it before taking a small sip. It was warm enough that she could drink it all in one large gulp, which she did, as she was thirsty but it was no Vallachian blend. The fact that Vallach grew no tea aside from small gardens meant nothing to her. It was inferior by the pure nature of being from some distant place she likely did not care about, and the fact that it was offered to her by a Harkren, of all people.

"What do I know of the princes?" she echoed, grabbing the kettle and pouring another full cup for herself without offering to refill Harkren's. "I know they are petty and vain fools who have less intelligence between them than moss. Frankly, I know nothing of them as individuals because I don't care about them. They'll all be dead soon, anyways. Do you think any of them will survive whatever war they'll incite? Because I certainly don't. If we're lucky, the Emperor has the strength left to dictate a successor and have the rest poisoned."

She wrinkled her nose at the thought and glanced out over the garden. "All of this would be wasted on those ingrates, anyways."

Valentova paused for a moment before letting out a long sigh. She truly did not enjoy a second of any of this. The less she saw of Lord Harkren the better, yet the reality that she was correct in ascertaining the situation concerning the succession made it sting all the worse. "Whatever the upstarts in the Hinterlands try will be met with disaster, and they should know it. The Hinterlands are strong without Imperial control. The Cappels, the Vigils, the Larants - any of them are idiots if they side with a dim-witted prince. And if they bring war to Vallach, I will laugh as their armies die, as they always have, drowned in our marshes and ripped apart by the spirits of the forests. Some of the only viable routes into Vallach - as I am sure you know - are well guarded mountain passes. If there is to be war, I will simply take what I want. And damn any of the fools who stand in my way."

After a brief second, Valentova laughed. "You know - I'd rather you step in and claim the throne. As you said, we don't like each other, but at least you're... you're competent," she said, her teeth gritted. "The northern House of Froste is noble, too, and have the historical backing. Who is the little boy in charge now, Olive? Oliver? I don't remember. At least his father was decent, and I'm sure he will be, too. Regardless, the capital here will be ash and bones before too long. And that isn't mentioning the financial crises. Once the Emperor finally passes on, the Consortium will fleece this place to account for every debt in the books. And I am sure they have very eager and observant accountants."

Valentova finished her second cup of tea in another grand swoop. "Vallach stands where it always has. With me. The chapter knights are practically rabid dogs thrashing at the leash I have around their necks for the merest scent of blood. The Hinterlands should be begging me to not let them loose. I will ruin any of our clans than think they owe loyalty to some Imperial prince over their own culture."

 

[Vexumin]

Kyraug

Though the Vadyeen entered the library, expecting to be alone, the guardsmen announced something else entirely. He was nto in the library with just anyone, but someone of importance. At least somewhat more importance than House Bralmeyer. Not to him that is. The only important people in his life were the lords and staff of House Bralmeyer. However, anyone passing on by guardsmen of House Kalfas would straighten up right quick.

It honestly didn’t concern Kyraug too much. A servant of House Bralmeyer responds only to their masters. To be forced into service for any other lord was practically taboo. An offense to the Bralmeyer name, that they would disrespect the house by forcefully utilizing its staff. Besides, he was far too stubborn to serve someone else, even if it might cost him his head.

Whatever the case, he had a book to enjoy currently. He grabbed something off of one of the many expansive shelves in this library. It was honestly far more grand than anything back home, so he wandered and grabbed something historical off of a random shelf. He didn’t have any preferred genres, so educating himself always seemed like the best option.

When it came to his own personal education, he was well versed in reading, writing, a general understanding of their lands history, the performance of various tasks. All of which is expected of the head servant. Educating himself any further was his own responsibility. So what he grabbed would do the trick. Although he would soon wonder if he should grab something else. Expanding upon his preference of literature could allow him a more diverse understanding of modern genre‘s, acquiring a more cultured mindset.

It was too late to go back though, he’d already kicked up his feet was already quite immersed in the tale of Jendrick the Doomed.

But as he took a seat, he quickly realized he was not alone - a young man, practically a boy still, sat nearby in the furthest corner as if trying to stay out of sight entirely, peered out from over his own reading material and looked at Kyraug with curiosity before gulping. "Oh, h-hello." Prince Lodric spoke with the meekness of a mouse. "I didn't think I would be joined by anyone."

Kyraug hums, turning to face who had spoken only to blink. He should not be surprised seeing as there were guardsmen of House Kalfas at the door. However, he didn’t think that he’d be face to face with a prince anytime soon.

The prospect was interesting even so. Perhaps he should play along. It was the prince that spoke up first after all, so what would be the harm in engaging in a conversation. Besides, it was only polite to do so.

Kyraug swings his leg from over his knee, standing from his chair.

“My apologies, Prince Lodric. I’m afraid I didn’t know that you were here. It is good to see you well,” Kyraug says as he approaches, bending the knee at a moderate distance. He was instantly familiar with just how reserved the young prince might be, so he did his best to remain respectful, provide the prince with an adequate amount of space and what not.

---

Damik

Ah, the city. A marvelous place. Especially Stonewall. He had never come here before during the few times that he has traveled with his father to Ifosea, so becoming the acting lord of House Bralmeyer meant that he had more freedoms when a certain overbearing servant would be absent for a few hours at most. Where better to spend his time than in a place filled with people?! Though a lord, he was a social individual. Status or class be damned, if he wanted to chat with someone then he’ll damn well do it!

With that in mind, he waves his guards to distance themselves just a bit.

“Gentlemen, a little room if you please. I don’t want to seem like a closed off and pompous nobleman.“

The guards obliged, moving a few paces back, allowing people closer to Damik than they may be comfortable with when there are armed and armored soldiers at his every side. As he walked, he took in everything. The people, their stalls, what goods they peddled. Though his family was one that raised their flag in the name of battle, Damik took an especially keen interest in his subjects and the subjects of other kingdoms or lands and well.

The backbone of society were those right here and those out beyond the safety of any walls. He had to be strong and appreciative in equal lengths towards these good folk. It was important that he never took strides to distance himself from the common folk. A connection to them was almost as important as connections with other lords and ladies. What good was detachment from the people? It’d sooner have them at his throat if he had no care for their troubles and woes.

One thing he was in Stonewall for particularly was the unique. He took an interest in business, sure, but there was more to these streets than just the same stall every few steps. Everywhere sold unique goods and products. They were all valuable in their own way, but Damik was known for his love of out of the ordinary creativity. He wanted nothing more than to see something beyond the scope of any stall here. A business or good that can and should be uplifted into something more.

And he likely found just that.

A stall. One set aside from the rest. It was a curious sight as there was not much to see at all. So plain and mysterious, especially the individual running it all. Damik approaches, keeping a moderate distance from the stall. One could not help but admit that it was a bit suspicious, especially when the individual operating things hid their face behind a veil. Not that he judged often, but he is a lord, so a good amount of caution is healthy for his sake.

"Greetings, Young Lord. Are you here to peruse my wares?" he asked with a raspy tone and a thick accent that Damik could not place.

Damik hums, but does not let it appear than anything currently troubles him. It was a bother that he could not pin down just where the accent may originate from, but a percentage of exotic services is always important in a solid structure of trade, so he didn’t mind too much.

”I am, but forgive me for saying that I do not quite see any wares to peruse. Unless, perhaps, you keep them tucked away and out of sight. I must admit that I am moderately curious to see what you have to offer though.“

 

[joshuadim]

The Imperial Library
Vexumin [Kyraug]​

“Oh, you don’t need to kneel-” Lodric began to say, rather embarrassed that the Vadyeen had shown such deference to him in a rather casual setting. But by then it was too late as Kyraug had already bent the knee in front of him, which made the boy let out a nervous laugh. “Please, I insist, you need not.” he then spoke, and motioned for Kyraug to return to his seat – which the Vadyeen obliged shortly thereafter.

An awkward moment of silence passed between the two of them as Lodric shifted uncomfortably in his seat before diverting a sudden topic change: “Jendrick the Doomed? By Maester Perassus? What drew you to that?” Lodrick asked as he looked at Kyraug’s selection.

“I found it, while informative about certain aspects of his life, also to deliberate a severe bias in the way it frames a historical narrative regarding the end of an old Empire and into the new. Perassus’ argument, while understandable, holds flaws given that the Empire’s own form didn’t change in any practical or meaningful manner following the Great Revolt and instead reinforced its systems following the end of that war. I also found it difficult to believe in the notion of the supernatural introduced, framing the last of Arathor’s line being somehow a turning point in the histories. Superstition doesn’t necessarily-“

Lodric stopped himself as he realized he was rambling far too much regarding the topic and laughed nervously again. “Sorry… I got carried away. When one’s only friends are books, one tends to get too invested in them.” He looked down at his own tome that he had been perusing, rather embarrassed at himself for having gone off in such a manner with his thoughts aloud.

"...what brought you here? I'm sorry if it's rude but... you don't seem the type." the young Prince then asked.

---

Stonewall, Ifosea
Vexumin [Damik]
​

“Wares? Ahaha... what use do I have for wares?" the man replied with a dry chuckle, as if the question was amusing to him. "Aha, I do not trade in the material. What one can grasp, see, or smell…” the hooded man spoke, letting out another gravelly cackle. “The material, one can find anywhere. Amongst those seeking wealth… such trivialities are lost upon me. Practically everyone sells in such manner... spices, silks, foods, wines... all material! All so... drole. Nay, for what I sell is much more important. What one wishes to have but cannot grasp.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in to Damik before continuing, waving his arms around with theatrics as to impose a symbolic idea to the young man as to what exactly was going on. “What I sell, is but a glimpse into the strands of fate. For knowledge is power, would you say? But it can also led to your ruination if you do not use it well.” He continued to move his hands about, fingers extending and flicking as though he was a loom weaver. "What I sell... are three things. A truth, a promise, and a warning. All three of which are yours in one way or another."

He laughed again, before motioning for Damik to sit as an invitation on the opposite side of the low table that barely lifted above the ground. “If you’re interested, then simply have a seat and close the tent behind you..."

---

The Imperial Garden
Lord Harkren Interaction: Emperor Sagan
​

Florina scoffed at Valentova's suggestion that she lay a claim to the throne, moving her gaze outwards towards the waves of the inland sea that Ifosea resided upon. "I'm hardly one to rule an entire Empire. Though the thought is flattering." It was hard to say whether or not she was being genuine, but her steely gaze returned to Valentova as she took another sip of tea from her own cup. "I would prefer to stay out of these affairs myself, as you seem intent on doing so, but neutrality begets hostility from all sides. Either to force me to either join one of the Princes or the other. I would have already joined by now, but therein lies the main issue."

She let out a tired chuckle: "Every choice leads to Imperial disaster. Prince Landon is a drunkard and hedonist who puts his vices ahead of any responsibility. Prince Davin is intelligent, but is a cold, calculating man with no heart. Prince Cabrus is a coward, I don't need to explain beyond that how he would be incompetent to lead. Prince Maril is a fool who can't think for himself. And then there's poor Prince Lodric..."

Her demeanor shifted entirely from disgust of the Emperor's sons to a brief hint of empathy for his nephew. "A smart boy. And kind, with a sense for justice. But too weak-willed. He is already controlled by his grandfather and mother. It would be Lord Leon ruling the Empire, not Lodric, should the forces of House Kalfas and their allies prevail in this struggle."

Lord Harkren then set her teacup down on the table in between the two of them and returned to her stoic demeanour. "Despite who the Emperor dictates as his successor, there already is a struggle that is beyond reproach. With this in mind, I intend to declare myself for Prince Landon. And you should too."

---

Enya Kragh Interaction: Infab
​

Enya gave another curtsy once more to Maria as she walked off to join Ser Friar, Rutu and Dominik, giving a last glance before turning about to continue exploring the garden. She decided in her mind to apologize later once more as an additional courtesy, given how rude it was of her to not pay attention in the first place. Being mindful of surroundings is what she was supposed to be.

She slinked away from the general vicinity of the conversation that was unfolding, instead focusing on the flora on display in the Garden itself. She was intent on committing every smell and sight to memory for so long as she was here, as she likely would never get a chance again to do so once this Tournament was finished and the Houses returned home. But what caught her attention was the presence of the flowers that Maria had previously visited and looked at.

Enya could not help but find herself mesmerized by these in particular, a feeling that she could not explain as to why they were, as they seemed rather ordinary. Instead of moving on, she took a seat on a bench nearby and stared at them, trying to figure out *why* they were so engaging.

---

The Golden Talon Tavern
Worthlessplebian [Siert]
​

"Perhaps my friend thought of you and your companion as one and the same?" Jomier replied with a smile as Siert recounted his experience and ability. The story of the bandits in particular seemed almost too good to be true, but the lordling did not mind a good tale. The bird seemed intelligent enough to carry out such a task regardless, given how it behaved with its master. "He is an experienced fighter, that much is true. Though I suppose if you are confident in bringing the man down, then so am I."

He raised a his flagon approvingly and took another sip of his ale, grimacing again at the taste. "Speaking of the Riverlands, your home, I've heard the banditry issue has become less as of late. Outside of you, I imagine plenty of others have done similar jobs - or even the lordships themselves directly intervening to quash the issue. What other jobs have you done? In what regions?"

---

The Imperial Council, The Spire
Breadman [Vigot], K0mori [Lazarus], GrieveWriter [Adelaide]
​

The doors to the chamber of the Council opened as a messenger stepped outwards, a courier but not of Imperial origin. By the looks of his attire and wear, Lazarus would recognize him as a messenger from the Kingdom of the Isles, though the purpose of his visit was entirely unbeknowst to the lord. The courier headed straight for the lift with an urgency in his step, ignoring the presence of Vigot, Lazarus and Adelaide entirely as he instructed the lift workers to send him down - and with haste, he disappeared from sight as the platform he had embarked upon travelled downwards along the spine of the tower itself.

The same guard that had halted both Lazarus and Vigot now motioned at them as he stepped from his post: "Lady Adelaide and Lord von Holt will enter. Highlord Ornulfsson will enter once Lord von Holt leaves."

Vigot was thus left behind in the lobby as both Adelaide and Lazarus were ushered into the chamber, with the doors shutting behind them quickly. Inside was a familiar sight for the Consortium's Emissary, while for Lazarus it was an entirely new experience: an octagonal room carved immaculately from the rock it was based within, furnished with all manner of comforts for its members to enjoy at meetings - bowls of fruit, pitchers of wine at the ready, and candles lit to add to the natural lighting the room already receieved from its great windows that bordered all sides.

A large, and gilded, table sat at the centre of the room, with some seats already occupied. At its head at the back of the room sat the Emperor, who received Lazarus and Adelaide with a smile. While at the others sat Count Lachlan Touvelle, the current Exarch of Laws, Count Damijan Viselic, the current Exarch of Whispers, General Ruhnar Vildrith, the current Exarch of War, and Ser Eren Bostaque of the Redguard. The Exarchs in particular looked at the arrival of both Adelaide and von Holt without much emotion as Adelaide took one of the empty seats across from both Lachlan and Damijan.

Lazarus on the other hand had the table directly across from the Emperor's end, as he took his seat and waited for what purpose he was sent for here. "I apologize for keeping you both out for a bit. We had some matters of the outside world to discuss." the Emperor then spoke, before drinking from his goblet some of the same earthy medication that had been given to him back at the entrance of the Imperial Palace. "We can now focus on matters involving the Empire itself."

"Indeed, your Grace." Count Lachlan then spoke up with a nod to the Emperor before turning his gaze towards Lazarus. "You were summoned here with regards to an unfolding situation at the province you are charged with, Lord von Holt."

Count Viselic shifted in his seat and leaned forward: "There are reports of yet another shipment of ore and gold going missing. Likely the continued insurgents operating... but that's not what concerns us. It is that it was struck in broad daylight on the main road."

General Ruhnar then leaned forward to speak: "A single incident is no cause for alarm. Lord von Holt has conducted himself quite well following his father's passing." the warrior spoke, "Our priority should be focused on the Islanders, not some ragtag collection of fighters."

"Except that it means that they are growing bolder. Which can only mean one possible thing," Count Viselic snapped back angrily to the general, "That the Confederaati of the eastern isolas are directly involved." He then turned his gaze to Lazarus and narrowed his eyes: "Have you seen any such activity with your own eyes?"

 

[K0mori]

As he stepped into the chamber of the Council, Lazarus politely dismissed the Emperor's apology and was impressed with the level of luxury that they reserved for themselves, even in the midst of their Empire's crumbling financial standing. Even with its large windows providing them views of the wide world around them from each of the eight sides of the tower, the elites had somehow managed to quarantine themselves away from it, so that they could talk about matters which were bleedingly obvious as if they were mysterious and academic. As Count Viselic questioned him, his respectful demeanor slowly started to rot while he sat at the far end of the table, and a more honest and arrogant smirk took its place.

"Except that it means that they are growing bolder. Which can only mean one possible thing," Count Viselic snapped back angrily to the general, "That the Confederaati of the eastern isolas are directly involved." He then turned his gaze to Lazarus and narrowed his eyes: "Have you seen any such activity with your own eyes?"

Lazarus waited a moment, hoping that there was some nuance to Count Viselic's question that could rescue it from becoming an insult. "Sir," he finally replied with a bitter scoff, "surely you must understand- that at this stage, after all my court has done to fight for security in the Redlands after my father's passing, that I would not be ignorant of the Confederation's intentions to recover its lost holdings. Yes, Count, they have meddled in my domain before, but never so overtly. As you clearly grasp already, organizing a raid in broad daylight is a significant escalation. Launching it while I'm away from my station was clearly a clearly a conscious decision on their part to strike when they felt the land would be less protected."

He turned and gazed out an eastward window, an intense anger welling inside of him. "A question like that feels like an accusation," he said quietly. He then turned back to face them, eyes locking on the Emperor and General Vildrith and avoiding Count Viselic entirely, as if the man were beneath him. "It seems that I have been far too forgiving of this insurgency. I have imprisoned and executed every last tribal savage that has raised a blade against us, sire, but I have spared their families. I give these people new roads to walk, new wells to drink from, gardens and orchards of medicinal plants... and how do they repay me?"

---
​

"We people of Vallach rely greatly upon our history of knightly orders and chapters for our... peacekeeping. Their size is often diminutive, that is true, but you will find no better motivated and professional force in all the Hinterlands - even across the continent, I dare say. Many chapters even boast their own men-at-arms and clerics. Perhaps if... you and your lord are interested... I am sure a chapter or two of Vallachian knights would be more than happy to assist you in your matters of security. Why - we even traveled here with a fair many for the tournament," Friar said, a wide smile breaking out at last.

Dominik nodded.

"After all, as useful as mercenaries can be, the thirst for blood can be more alluring and effective than the thirst for mere coin. At least one is actually edible," he added with a little laugh. "Of course, I am merely speaking ideas, good ser Sulzbach. When problems arise it is my function to correct them, after all, and mercenaries and their financial toll seem to be one of yours."

What?

Dominik had nearly missed Ser Friar's closing statement after the man had made a strange comment about the "edibility" of blood. It took him a moment to recall that some recipes involved the cooking of animal blood, but it simply didn't come off clearly that those sorts of regional dishes were what the Vallachian was referring to. After a moment's hesitation, Dominik let it go and indulged the man with a nervous chuckle of his own. "I'm sure my Lord will be delighted to hear of your interest in such an arrangement."

 

[Vexumin]

Kyraug

The Vadyeen blinked a moment as he was motioned to return to his seat. Seems that this princeling was indeed the timid thing that everyone made mention of. That didn't really bother Kyraug much though. He was patient. He was calm. He was whatever was needed of him. At the moment he had set everything about himself to his default. Cold, not betraying his emotions. Generally passive.

Once he returns to his seat, he raises the book in hand back up to his gaze. His slowly shift in their sockets as he reads a passage. To anyone other species, they might not be able to take their eyes off of his own, as bulbous as they are. Kyraug was comfortable though, going back to the content of the book. However, eyes stop short, locked on a word as his attention is drawn to the silent shifting of Prince Lodric. It was quiet enough that he could positively feel the discomfort from the prince. He didn't bother looking over though. Not until he was spoken too.

“Jendrick the Doomed? By Maester Perassus? What drew you to that?” Lodrick asked as he looked at Kyraug’s selection.

Kyraug decided not to respond to that question right away, only narrowing his eyes curiously. He looked down at the book before looking back up towards the prince and then clearing his throat which took on a croaking quality.

"I merely grabbed what first caught my fancy. I must admit that when it comes to Jendrick I am entirely uneducated on the matter. I also thought it would do for a bit of light reading."

Kyraug was satisfied with his answer, nodding his head.

“I found it, while informative about certain aspects of his life, also to deliberate a severe bias in the way it frames a historical narrative regarding the end of an old Empire and into the new. Perassus’ argument, while understandable, holds flaws given that the Empire’s own form didn’t change in any practical or meaningful manner following the Great Revolt and instead reinforced its systems following the end of that war. I also found it difficult to believe in the notion of the supernatural introduced, framing the last of Arathor’s line being somehow a turning point in the histories. Superstition doesn’t necessarily-“

Lodric stopped himself as he realized he was rambling far too much regarding the topic and laughed nervously again. “Sorry… I got carried away. When one’s only friends are books, one tends to get too invested in them.” He looked down at his own tome that he had been perusing, rather embarrassed at himself for having gone off in such a manner with his thoughts aloud.

The Vadyeen blinked, but was soon rather impressed. The Prince had a very well read aura about him. It was as if he lived among these very shelves filled to the brim with books. Kyraug only listened, never so once as daring to interrupt the princes thoughts. They were actually quite informative. He'd have to take such notions and compare it to his own after having gone through the books contents.

Whatever the case, he was pleased. He doubted he would ever get to share his own opinion on the book with the prince. After all, he was a prince. For Kyraug to think that he would ever be in such a position again was impossible. No, he was surprised that he was even allowed into the library considering its current occupant, but he tried not to dwell too long upon that thought.

It was what was said next that caught him off guard. His only friends are books. Kyraug himself stirs a bit with that thought. He felt like he could relate with that. Heavily relate. He was taken in as a young lad. He could hardly remember anything before. He didn't even remember old friends. No, he would dare to say that his whole life has been dedicated to the service of his master. In that way, he also didn't have friends. Not one in the world that he could name. A master certainly wasn't a friend. They were far above him to ever consider them friends. No, if there was one friend he had, it was his duty as a servant. The head servant for the Bralmeyer family.

"You have no need to apologize. I can understand being passionate for what one does. You read. I can hardly fault you for your dedication towards books."

"...what brought you here? I'm sorry if it's rude but... you don't seem the type." the young Prince then asked.

Kyraug almost couldn't help but be affronted by the accusation! Not the type. To be fair to the prince, Kyraug had never had the time to figure out what kind of 'type' he was though. What would a servant find themselves even interested. Most other servants were hired from families in need of coin or they come to house Bralmeyer in desperate times. Rarely were new servants taken in such a way, but it did happen, but him...

He has many pleasant memories of the Bralmeyer family, but he would never forget the metal collar that had been fastened around his neck as a child.

He was the only prisoner of his village. Taken after a siege upon his home. Though he couldn't remember the attack, having merrily ran off to pick a flower for his mother, he could still feel the cold metal on his skin. He was taken. He was a servant, true, but he would forever be a servant. Though his masters didn't look at him like it, he felt in his heart that he was but a slave.

He breathes in, closing his eyes for a moment to calm himself, drag his mind away from such thoughts.

"I suppose I am not the type. However, I do not quite know what type I am. I am a servant. Head Servant of House Bralmeyer. I survey and direct the staff from their family keep to distant estates. Though at times it feels that that is all I am. I can't say I mind though. Such is the way of things."

---

Damik

Damik has found himself in a rather interesting situation. One where he find himself outraged, albeit not openly, on behalf of all of the other merchants in this city. He thought on the mans first words. Clearly the man had no wares for sale, but how in the world were goods like spices, silks, foods and wines anywhere near drole! These people do a service for the world, bringing culture of various kinds from all over the world to the people on a cities streets. They do what only they can do!

But this man seemed... different.

He spoke of such things as if he bears no need for them. Like a omnipotent thing that observes the needs of mortals in disdain. A barrier that holds them back. A necessity that keeps them from something beyond. Now, where Damik had been offended, he became intrigued.

It was like a trap, with him the curious creature that fell for it, or was currently being drawn in. A peek into the realm of possibility. He has seen such craft before. He has been given false futures but a few times. Damik was a man who has resigned himself to his fate. A death on the battlefield! That was the only way a man of House Bralmeyer should pass, even if his father managed to survive every battle thus far and become bed ridden.

However, there was something of this man that spoke more.

It was that, or there was something in the air that was throwing off Damik's senses. Whatever the case, he finds himself curious enough to approach and enter. He waves a hand to his guards and they form a perimeter around the tent, eying their surroundings as their lord loosens the fabric and closes him into the tent with the strange man. He was not scared to be alone in such a precarious place. He had with him his blade and he was confident with it.

If this is a trick, then those responsible would die. Otherwise, he listened and waited for the mans words. A truth, a promise and a warning? He wondered if they would have anything to do with his time here. If there was anything he needed a peek into, it was how to get through this gathering without having assassins on him at all times. Though he wondered if his comment towards the prince has already earned him such threats.

 

[Breadman]

"But ser, haven't you heard?" Goldbert gestured to himself and Pila with his hands "You need to be mad to willingly man the wall." She gave him a tired look. It was not the first time he'd make that joke, nor would it be the last one if he could help it. "If they chew any appendages off, I'm sure I can put them to good use. There are forests and caves beyond the wall that no sane man would dare walk into." He paused for half a second. "And I would be a poor scoutmaster if I were to let those places without a watchful eye."

"What is more likely is that he would lead them to some troll or yeti's home to feed them." The shieldmaiden added. Her tone deflating any suspense the scoutmaster was building. "They roam from time to time and can cause trouble for wild villages and communities."

"That is a mere idea you made in your head, dear Pila." His tone changed as if he was offended "I do not exaggerate when I say that beyond the wall, there are things you can barely imagine." He knocked on his metal mask with a knuckle again "As his grace as our witness, may my tongue swell and choke me into an early grave."

"Please excuse scoutmaster Ryder, ser Babel. Sometimes he spends weeks at a time on his own and has developed certain... eccentric habits." Through the hood and mask, she could spot a glimmer in one of his eyes. Something was stirring in that head of his again.

 

[Infab]

"...But foremost - I really must express my condolences for your loss. Lord Oliver has large shoes to fill, so to speak, but he is fortunate to be surrounded by immensely caring retainers."

"All of Tarth was shaken by the loss of Edmond." responded Maria, "A truly honorable, just leader. Kind as well. I do see a lot of Edmond in Oliver, so perhaps he'll grow to be just like his father was as a Lord. As for myself and our man-at-arms, Ser Titus Thorne, Edmond was a dear friend. We owe it to him to see Oliver grow into a proper respectable Lord, and see Edmond's wishes be brought to fruition."

She slowly looked about, her eye wandering between the various flowers and trees scattered about the gardens. "His mother, Lilith's wishes, too. Wherever her wandering soul may be." she added, though in a softer tone.

Once Maria returned her attention to those in her immediate vicinity, she folded her arms. Her hands cradled her elbows. "How go things in the Hinterlands? Its been... around three years since I've had to venture into the region." she soon asked, looking to the chamberlain once again. "The Hinterlands were the next place Edmond intended to visit as the Emperor's Hand, after checking in with House Kragh. Business, of course, with the Kingdom of the Isles sitting just off your coast."

She then glanced to the Captain and Rutu. "The Redlands were next on the docket afterwards."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Lady Valentova listened with a hint of distaste as Lord Harkren spoke on, but she plucked the words from the air with thought to consider them well. She knew little of the princes - after all, why would she ever care about a group of such imbeciles - but Harkren more or less affirmed what she was already aware of. The princes were all gutless fools. It would have been much funnier if the future wasn't treading upon a thin twine. War could be profitable, that was certain, and even if it came to Vallach she was certain they would be victorious, yet even still - war was unpredictable. And she so disliked surprises that did not begin and end with gold in her coffers.

"So, you'll pledge to the hedonist drunk? I suppose we could do worse. They should be easy enough to manipulate, and I doubt he can bankrupt the crown any more than it already is," she laughed in a bitter, crude fashion. "Davin sounds like he'll rule on a pile of corpses, though Maril, as you put it, sounds suitably easy to manipulate as well. And if Lodric is already someone else's puppet, then that simply won't do."

"Still - I have no intention of any grand declarations any time soon. Let the princes die, I say, if it comes to war. And let whoever wins... well, drinking in celebration on the parapets of a high keep was never very smart for anyone. And there are many high places around here. Even a tumble down the stairs would do it," she said with a shrug. "But pledging to follow a drunken idiot isn't leading us to much better of a future, either, though I'm sure you already gathered that. The princes will get nothing from me, but I would be delighted to take gifts."

---

Ser Friar smiled at Captain Sulzbach. "Ah, but they are not merely my interests, good ser, but those of Lady Valentova and I dare say all of us. It would indeed be wise, perhaps, if we could see our respective lieges discuss a beneficial future for our houses. We both stand on either side of the continent. There is a great deal of land and... trepidation in the territories between our realms. Your people," Friar said, nodding to both Sulzbach and Rutu, "are already acquainted with a past of warfare. The future seems to hold even more. Mutual cooperation would put us on firmer ground that merely existing as singular entities - after all, the pines which grow near one another are stronger than the pines that grow alone, for these singular trees often collapse when met with even a light tempest."

The chamberlain's thin, elusive eyes seemed to twinkle. "And I would so hate to see so wise a witch and so handsome a warrior blown away by all the hot air that seems to emanate from the princes, as esteemed as they are."

Once Maria had spoken up again, Friar politely bowed his head to her as she spoke of the departed Lord Edmond. He would have to speak with Annaliese on assembling a package of condolences to send north that was more than polite words on parchment and some flowers from her garden. Something more tangible may help strengthen some... emotional connection. Vallach had stood alone long enough, and despite his best attempts to convince Annaliese of the turmoil the continent was facing, her determination to guard the mountain passes and stay home had reached the tenacity of that of the fabled ancient dwarves. Good relations with the Emperor's Hand, and the war-experienced and ready von Holts, would put them on better footing for the future.

"The Hinterlands are doing well, thank you for asking. Vallach in particular prospers. We are blessed to be rich in resources as well as culture. Lady Valentova's reign begets strength, peace, and prosperity, and I am happy to believe there is little that can change that," Ser Friar explained, smiling softly. He felt less confident weaving words around a woman like Maria, for she was no doubt acquainted to the same strategies as he was. Sulzbach and Rutu seemed good company, but a guard captain and witch were not entrusted with the same level of authority as the de facto or de jure secondaries of their House. At least, if they were, he was certainly making a foolish under estimation of them.

"If time does indeed allow your visit to the Hinterlands, Lady Valentova would be absolutely delighted to host your stay." That much wasn't even a subtle half-truth - any excuse for a party and chance to talk about herself and realm was not only ideal for her, but one of her paramount skills. "I cannot speak entirely for Lord Harkren's realm, or the other lands, but we always felt that there was some... crude tastes in their lands. A rudeness, if you will. It may make travel for Lord Oliver unsavory if his first taste of the Hinterlands proper as a lord is to be subjected to anything less than what he deserves."

"Naturally," Friar added, glancing back to Sulzbach and Rutu,"any delegation that may come from your lands would certainly be welcome as well."

 

[GrieveWriter]

Adelaide
Adelaide kept her expression neutral as Lazarus spoke of the issues and challenges of administration, speaking of the proper manner by which the Redlands will slowly pull themselves from the fire and brimstone of its past.

The cycle of commerce which aided his goals and the ever-present stock of merchants eager to invest were one thing, but Adelaide didn't let his words distract her from the real issue at hand.

The Kithis, or Glyrrans in more common tongues.

Adelaide's people may not have had the best relations with the cat-folk, but it was still leagues better than the utter mess the Empire had on its hands with them. If a third revolt were to start up, sources claimed it would almost definitely have ties to the Redlands. While many fretted over those lands for their resources, others worried for what such activity would mean for the wider realm at large. Adelaide liked to believe she was in the latter group.

Still she nodded at his display, though not even pretending to feign a smile. she wanted to believe him wholeheartedly, but there was no doubt an act of joviality would be seen through immediately at that moment.

Luckily for her, they weren't given much breathing room afterwards. The doors to the council chamber opened, depositing a messenger who hastened past them to the lift. Though Adelaide could only guess at what had him moving with such haste, she already had plenty of tidbits to go over without the burden of speculation. The council called upon Lazarus and her first, so she made sure to give the Highlord a courteous bow for indulging her before entering with Lazarus.

The council was seated already, with chairs open for the both of them. Adelaide already knew her position, so hastened over to a seat between the exarch of War and the captain of the Redgaurd. It may be odd for an envoy, but Adelaide's earlier years working with mercenary bands had gotten her quite comfortable in the presence of military leaders. There was just something so comforting about their often straightforward tendencies in comparison to diplomats and nobles.

She had barely slid into her seat before she'd produced her journal and quill once more, taking a moment to wave off the emperor's concerns before quieting herself to let the meeting commence.

And right out the gate, things looked bad.

A shipment of values robbed in the Redlands.

While there was an understanding that there were those still working to undermine imperial rule in the province, it was the way that Count Viselic spoke of the scenario that mnade it seem as though it wasn't an uncommon occurrence. She stifled her curiosity to focus on the words of the council, noting how it seemed the boldness of the attack was what the council took issue with.

Because of the potential link to the Isolas.

Adelaide stopped writing at that, glancing over to Lazarus to see if he would confirm or deny the implication. When he gave a bitter response that all but confirmed it, she cursed under her breath.

The Empire had its hands full as it was, it didn't need external parties actively empowering their enemies. While it may not be the death blow some would no doubt see it as back home, Adelaide figured the inclusion of the Confedeerati meant a single wrong move could cause a snowball effect and start to put pressure on other matters.

Yet she kept that to herself. As an envoy, it wasn't her place to offer supposition or suggestions unless asked. She merely had to watch and take in as much as possible, no matter how worrying those details were.

 

[joshuadim]

The Imperial Library
Vexumin [Kyraug]​

Prince Lodric remained quiet while the Vadyeen responded towards his question. It was an answer that was both direct but also left out some details, and the prince knew this as he tilted his head on mention of his resignation towards his station. He could read Kryraug's body language that, while there was truth to him being content, that there was also something else beyond that. He debated whether or not to pursue the thread, given how difficult of a subject it might be to someone like Kyraug. However, he steeled his own confidence and gave a slow nod: "I do not doubt you serve your House well. The Vadyeen have a... troubled history with the Empire. Many regrettable things happened between our peoples. Events that better men would have prevented."

He then shifted in his seat: "But do you not feel perhaps you belong elsewhere? You might be in our world, yes, but are you truly *happy* with this place? Would you rather be something else other than a servant? Perhaps that is why you do not know your type... because it is chosen for you." Lodric then asked. He was earnest in his intent, though how the Vadyeen would react would remain to be seen.

---

Stonewall, Ifosea
Vexumin [Damik]
​

As Damik took his place within the tent, the flaps closed behind him; this left him alone with the hooded man inside as the latter clapped his hands together and pulled out a small thurible and ignited it with a matchstick. The flame hissed for a moment until the incense was lit and began to spread an aromatic smoke in the area. For Damik, it reminded him distantly of cooked apricots as the man hung it above them on a small hook. "Aha, now... it will clear my mind. Allow me." the man spoke as he cleared his throat, placed his hands flat on the surface between them both, and began to let out a loose, deep rumble from his throat.

Moments passed as the man let out his guttural noises with eyes closed, before flipping his hands upwards and motioning. "Hands upwards on mine."

It was much more strict of a tone than before, which Damik obliged to as he set his hands forward and rested them atop the man's. He continued to groan and rumble, now using his belly and the air within himself to press the noises outwards. It seemed to be almost like a show of sorts with the strange performance taking front and centre. Nothing had happened up to this point, which raised doubts in the young lord's mind as to what exactly he was doing in here. Was this man a quack? A fraud? It seemed all the more likely with every second that passed. Damik was about ready to cut this distraction short and leave but in the moment something changed.

The wisps of smoke in the air began to, instead of floating about gently, whirlpool and coalesce as they entered the man's ears, nose, and mouth. It was as though he was sucking the entire area into his body - an impossible feat given how normal lungs operate - and removed the incense entirely from the air. Damik could spot then the man's eyes turn a milky white in their entirety as he stared straight at him. The man's thumbs rubbed over Damik's palms, running along the grooves and edges that marked them. He was reading something, muttering under his breath in a foreign tongue, until he gritted his teeth.

"Your father will die, his heart giving out at the rage he has kept all his life. Like the late Lord von Holt..." he then spoke, before shuddering. "Your lands will be burned by those you thought to be friends... hrman qdr ma banm..."

He shuddered once more, gritting his teeth as if he were in pain. Blood dripped out of his nose in a stream as he struggled to deliver his final words as promised. "Ack... gnhhh..." he gasped out; trying to speak but failing. He needed help!

---

The Imperial Garden
Emperor Sagan [Annaliese]
​

Harkren gave off a faint hint of a smile when mentioning Prince Landon's nature. She didn't outright say it, but it unspoken that she intended to use the Prince's vices against him; that much was certain given the situation. Instead, she refocused attention away from the obvious uses for the man. "It secures my eastern flank, allowing me to concentrate on the north should it come to that. I didn't need to be a strategist to figure that out that the mountains come squarely to my advantage." She then took another sip from her tea and looked out towards the waters of the lake. "Vallach's mountains make it strong, but not impenetrable to attack. I suspect it will be Prince Maril to make a move on you to gain your loyalty - either by envoy or by force... he already has support of the entirety of Kholan."

"I am quite surprised as to how he managed that. Though perhaps loyalty to House Brentor alone swayed them to his claim. And perhaps made plenty of overbearing promises to the lords there." Harkren then spoke as she turned back to Annaliese. "If you intend to remain neutral, then hold in mind that threat from the south."

---

The Imperial Council, The Spire
K0mori [Lazarus] & GrieveWriter [Adelaide]
​

Count Viselic was bound to respond as he opened his mouth, fully intent on retorting towards the Lord's words but was stopped as the Emperor raised his hand. He cleared his throat for a moment before leaning into the table. "...perhaps a different approach is needed?" the Emperor mused aloud, "If force cannot bring peace, then it has to be done otherwise." He scanned the room for reactions to such an idea, as he noticed General Vildrith look uncomfortable towards the idea. "General, you look as though you wish to say something."

"Your grace," Vildrith spoke with a nod, eager to get his advice in, "It may be a noble intention, but the reality of the situation there... relations between the cat-folk and the Empire are already nearing another breaking point. As much as I would prefer to avoid the threat of violence, such open acts of rebellion need to be crushed."

"I frankly agree with the General's assessment." Viselic then chimed in as he straightened in his seat, "The sword brings errant subjects to heel. It has done so before, and we ought to do so again." He then turned to Lazarus with a frown: "And with the right leadership, it can be made a reality."

Ser Eren, however, disagreed as he shook his head. "I must object. We can not simply repeat the same things and expect a different result! All that the sword does it like wheat to a scythe. It may reduce the problem, for a time, but eventually it grows back." the Lord Commander of the Redguard spoke, before turning to the Emperor. "Your grace, I implore to explore other options at least before doing anything rash."

Count Lachlan raised his hand in support of Ser Eren's statement, which led to a split division within the council's members. The Emperor sighed as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I cannot do the same mistakes my brother did. Look where we are now because of him." Verus muttered. "Things have to be different, for all our sakes. We cannot afford another war, Lady Adelaide can attest to as much." The Emperor then lifted his head towards Lazarus at the other end of the table and sighed: "What can we do different?"

 

[Worthlessplebian]

When prompted to further elaborate on Siert's past employment, the bird-perched knight leaned back in his chair. He rolled in his tongue while eyes wandered to the side. Deep in his reminiscences. Only after a moment or two, did Siert look back at the Lordling. "That's wonderful news, by the way... About my home, I mean. My family has a trifling history with the moral reprobates, but that's another story entirely." He waved off the yoke of his family. Though the thought that he hadn't written in a long time lingered in the back. "So... where to begin? Ah, let's start with my stint as a merchant guard in The Morasses. I had to escort a merchant and his company, the name escapes me at the moment, but I remember it being simple. More peaceful than one might expect too. It was me and two others. He took the rear, me the front. Mostly because I had my plate on me." He knuckled the plate on his left shoulder. It was clear that not all of the armor's parts were in congruity with each other. Carefully selected parts from various sources coming together, a farcry from the armor bestowed upon him by his previous Lord.

"The head-merchant blabbered constantly, had a darling of a daughter though. But back to the job, the reason why it was so leisurely is simply because bandits and caravan raiders are opportunistic cowards. Dangerous cowards if you underestimate them, sure, but cowards nonetheless. Think of them like predators, a predator doesn't go after strong, healthy prey. No, they go after the elderly and the weak. Same principle, if you can display yourself as a stubborn obstacle then most will leave you alone. Only the truly insane would risk their own neck to duel swords. In five months, I only had to draw my weapon maybe ten or fifteen times. Out of all those encounters, I crossed blades just once with the scoundrel fleeing immediately. Life is often pedestrian, a type of calm dullness if you will, with only brief sparks of excitement - both good and bad." His mug's metal bottom taps against the table as Siert thought upon his own words.

"I patrolled a town for awhile after that, mostly keeping the peace by throwing drunkards. Tipsy enough to believe nothing can get in their way, but sober enough to throw jab or two." Coen squealed or screeched with a hissing agreement. "Oh, apart from all these martial chores, I did work as a miller. Or at least was the assistant helper to one. It's interesting work, but I'll admit that I'd much rather purchase the bread than make it for someone else."

"What about you, Lord? Have you any experience with dirtied hands? Normally, I'd assume not but I've been surprised before."

joshuadim

 

[Vexumin]

Kyraug

The Vadyeen hummed a bit at this, but it didn't take long before he shook his head. The funny thing about the people of the empire was that they always thought he held some kind of animosity towards them for the way his people have been so attacked in the pursuit of land and servitude. He, on the other hand, was as much of a citizen of the empire as the rest of them. He never grew up with any patriotism towards his people or whatever leadership his town had been apart of. No, he was a Vadyeen of the empire through and through.

"I'm afraid that you've made a mistake. I'm not dedicated to my people, nor am I upset that I was taken. Not exactly that is. I cannot quite remember the face of my mother or father. That is the only thing that troubles me some nights. I am a servant of the lords and ladies of House Bralmeyer. I live for them."

Those last few words were a rather painful admittance though. He knew how to live for other people far too well than he knew how to live for himself. However, he didn't have the parental figure to urge him to do what he thought best. In his growth, he was taught one thing.

The will and desires of the masters are all he need concern himself with.

Offer an opinion when it is appropriate, but never overdo it. He was taught as much by the previous head servant before he took the position himself. He was taught to be the perfect servant... not a person.

Kyraug turns his head to look towards the entrance of the library, as if making sure his master would not walk through the doors the moment be was being even a bit honest about his feelings. When he looked back towards the prince, he began to speak.

"Perhaps you are correct. I don't know who I am, I just know what I'm good at. I can't always say that I enjoy what I'm good at either. But what am I to do? Should I go stomping off into the Morasses, looking for someone who might recognize me from when I was a tiny thing? If not that, the only other thing that I'm any good at is my choice of weapon. However, it's more of a weapon used by a thug or thief than anything else."

---

Damik

As the incense began to burn, Damik sniffed and then breathed a short breath out through his nose, letting the initial buffet of smells clear. He was curious what this man had to offer, but the wait for results had weighed on him. Damik half expected assassins to be closing in, or perhaps the incense was laced with some manner of airborne toxin... These were all just plays of the imagination though. Nonetheless, he was becoming bored, waiting for the expected fortune to be told to him.

Before he grew tired of this possible act, he noticed the shift in the environment, hands still in the readers grip, the smoke swirling, seeking the odd man, entering his body as if possessed by the spirit of foresight. Finally, he began to speak, although it pained him.

Damik wondered how that worked. Where would one have to go to get power like this, and what was the cost? Even as the words came out, a dread hung over Damik. If this was real, was knowledge itself the cost? Was knowing ones fate the lock that brought it to pass?

He couldn't dwell too much on that. First, he had to listen. To hear every part.

The death of his father, falling to his rage like a curse. A sickness.

His lands, brought to ruin by the hands of his friends.

He wasn't surprised by the first fortune. He always knew that his father wasn't doing well. After the death of his mother came the decline. His father would die, haunted by the memory of battle for the rest of his days. People passed on eventually, and his father was due for a rest. It still hurt Damik to think about. Death is expected in life, but there was no ease in meeting it or seeing one you love be claimed.

The next, his lands burning. By the hands of friends no less. However, that confused him a bit. He did not have many close friends. He had friends of course, but he was raised to be cautious. He was raised to prevent others from using him to their own ends. He had been raised to read people, to understand them even when they might not want him to observe their discomforts or their woes. The anger they might carry. It was important in order to gauge just who might be trusted. Damik has never had a close friend because of his observations.

Kids growing only to be jealous of Damiks upbringing. The son of a lord. Anger at wars that his father has fought in his teenage years. The expectation and judgement in his adulthood. How could he lean on someone, anyone, when he saw all of these things in their eyes or the way they shifted. Only Kyra spoke to him casually. Offered Damik his true thoughts. However, even Kyra couldn't be completely trusted. After all, he is a servant taken from his very home. Though he had proven himself over the years, there was no guarantee that he was content with his life.

Perhaps it was time to let the poor Vadyeen go? If only to allow Kyra peace of mind and to prevent him from turning on Damik, if it was he who the fortune revolved around.

Damik looked to the reader, expectantly for more, but the man had suddenly began to bleed. It caught the young lord off guard. He blinked as the man struggled, choking, straining. Damik stood suddenly, reaching over and placing a hand on the man to steady him before he swiped a hand at the dark fabric behind him, brushing it aside to let the light pour into the darkness.

"Guards! Call a healer! Someone! This fellow isn't doing so well!"

---

Interacting with: joshuadim

 

[K0mori]

She then glanced to the Captain and Rutu. "The Redlands were next on the docket afterwards."

Dominik gave a polite nod to acknowledge Maria's statement, but had nothing to add.

Ser Friar smiled at Captain Sulzbach. "Ah, but they are not merely my interests, good ser, but those of Lady Valentova and I dare say all of us. It would indeed be wise, perhaps, if we could see our respective lieges discuss a beneficial future for our houses. We both stand on either side of the continent. There is a great deal of land and... trepidation in the territories between our realms. Your people," Friar said, nodding to both Sulzbach and Rutu, "are already acquainted with a past of warfare. The future seems to hold even more. Mutual cooperation would put us on firmer ground that merely existing as singular entities - after all, the pines which grow near one another are stronger than the pines that grow alone, for these singular trees often collapse when met with even a light tempest."

The chamberlain's thin, elusive eyes seemed to twinkle. "And I would so hate to see so wise a witch and so handsome a warrior blown away by all the hot air that seems to emanate from the princes, as esteemed as they are."

"I will be sure to communicate the seriousness of this gesture," Dominik said, not wanting to get swept up further in the chamberlain's lofty metaphors. It seemed as if the man was expecting the worst out of the Emperor's heirs during the tumultuous times ahead, and wanted to ensure that Lord von Holt wouldn't tie his land or his considerable military might to any of their likely campaigns in the future. "...He will likely be receptive, ser. My Lord made clear once already today that he does not wish to obtain any alliance with the princes that would render him a puppet to their will."

He went quiet, realizing that he may have said too much, and Rutu chimed in.

"The princes stake their claim on a distant shore. They may bluster and boast, but when they call upon the wind, it is the wind's choice to answer alone."

Ser Friar turned his attention away to address House Froste, giving the two a moment to breathe easy.

"Naturally," Friar added, glancing back to Sulzbach and Rutu,"any delegation that may come from your lands would certainly be welcome as well."

"Certainly, ser," Dominik said, giving another polite nod. He then excused himself and Rutu from the more important courtiers' presence and led the witch away, hoping to find some quiet place where he could reprimand her for overstepping her license to speak.

---
​

Count Lachlan raised his hand in support of Ser Eren's statement, which led to a split division within the council's members. The Emperor sighed as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I cannot do the same mistakes my brother did. Look where we are now because of him." Verus muttered. "Things have to be different, for all our sakes. We cannot afford another war, Lady Adelaide can attest to as much." The Emperor then lifted his head towards Lazarus at the other end of the table and sighed: "What can we do different?"

Lazarus kept his focus on the Emperor, despite Viselic's blatant attempt to provoke him further. But now, Verus was searching for a radical solution to the violence in the Redlands, one that didn't escalate the conflict to open war. Lazarus had long imagined elaborate solutions to the problem which would transform the Redlands and make it a model of interracial cooperation and progress. But these dreams were expensive, and even in his mind they would take decades to come into fruition. The Emperor needed a solution now, one which would not cost the Empire greatly, one which could prevent war entirely...

He glanced one more time out the eastern window, thinking of all the treachery he had encountered from those untamed lands, and the hateful sabotage from the Confederaati. He could not have peace unless their spirits were broken, and their spirits would not be broken without force. But then, another possibility surfaced in his mind, one which, from an almost delusional perspective, might seem merciful by comparison.

"The glyrrans will never give up hope of reclaiming the Redlands and restoring it to what it had been, as long as it's within their reach. But what if," he said, turning to the Emperor, "instead of destroying the people, we destroy the Redlands as they know it? Make it foreign and unrecognizable to them." He leaned forward, his expression as deathly serious as it was animated with terrible inspiration. "We replace their culture entirely."

He then began to lay out the plan, sweeping his hand back and forth across the edge of the table to illustrate movement. "First, we go from tribe to tribe, and gather up every one of the catfolk who hasn't previously served my House or the Empire at large in some way, and then march them west, deep into the continental interior. If they have spurned my offer to welcome them as free Imperial subjects, then perhaps it is best they learn our ways through servitude.

"Next, we invite adventurers, speculators, and merchants of all types to come to the Redlands and establish new colonial settlements within. We can erect new cities on top of the old, bringing our customs, our architecture, our loyalty, and remake the territory as a true Imperial possession. The sale of the Redlands and its former inhabitants could finance its defense for decades. And when all is said and done, the glyrrans from afar will know that not even a vicious war could return their Redlands to them. It will have become a memory."

 

[Infab]

Maria nodded after a few moments, giving Ser Friar a faint smile. "It would be wise to give the young lord a tour of a few of the major houses of the land. It will allow him to gain a bit of insight into each, and get a general idea of the politics of each area. So, I'll suggest the idea to him and see what he thinks."

Afterwards, she noticed the Captain and the glyrran depart. She watched them leave, eye locked mainly onto the glyrran as she walked away. Afterwards, she returned her attention to Ser Friar. "...He certainly seemed out of his element. Likely not used to talking shop with those of higher station beyond Lord von Holt." she soon said softly, before glancing in the direction the pair had departed in. "...They also seem to be keeping a nice, strong leash on Rutu. For obvious reasons, glyrrans being what they are. She does interest me, though. Quite theatrical."

--- --- --- ---
​

Oliver and Titus would soon find themselves traveling through the palace, after discovering that they wouldn't get the chance to speak to the High Lord due to him being in a private meeting with the Emperor and select other individuals. Important imperial chatter, it seemed. Instead, they decided to venture to the gardens as Maria had. As they emerged into the gardens, they would notice some of the High Lord's subordinates talking to another individual from one of the other houses off to the side.

"My lord, you can continue on without me. I'll speak with the High Lord's men and see what we can do." he said, glancing to Oliver briefly. Oliver nodded, before Titus pointed towards the north end of the gardens. "The flowers your mother planted are in that direction. You should be able to locate them fairly easily."

Oliver nodded again, soon watching Titus walk off in the direction of the other soldiers. He turned about, quietly walking along through the garden. His head moved about, taking in the sights and sounds of the beautiful environs around him. Flowers from everywhere across the empire, and trees too. He considered having some more sent from Tarth and the Stormlands, to add to the vast collection, but he didn't know what all the gardens had or didn't have from their lands.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for. And also found Lady Enya Kragh sitting on a bench nearby, also looking at them. He smiled, walking over and greeting her with a bow. "My lady. I didn't know you'd be here too." he said politely, before sitting next to her on the bench.

Titus soon found himself at the sides of von Babel, Goldbert, and Pila. "Greetings to the three of you." he stated. "I am Ser Thorne, of House Froste."

 

[joshuadim]

The Imperial Library
Vexumin [Kyraug]
​

The young prince pondered the words of the Vadyeen as he spoke of his own identity and his place in the world, and of his own doubts regarding such things, which gave food for thought for Lodric as he listened intently. The words coming from Kyraug brought out a look of pity from the Prince as he realized that Kyraug, as he was now, had nothing to draw upon that was really 'him'. The Kyraug presented was but a construct of other people's desires and imagery of what he must be in the eyes of the Empire. And so instead, Prince Lodric wanted to offer some well-meaning advice on how to overcome such difficulties.

"Perhaps you are correct. I don't know who I am, I just know what I'm good at. I can't always say that I enjoy what I'm good at either. But what am I to do? Should I go stomping off into the Morasses, looking for someone who might recognize me from when I was a tiny thing? If not that, the only other thing that I'm any good at is my choice of weapon. However, it's more of a weapon used by a thug or thief than anything else."​

"Of course not... I'd imagine it would be hard to relate to any of your kin after having been away from them your whole life." the Prince first said, "But rather what I mean is perhaps to look at yourself. You are Kyraug... but who is Kyraug? The answer comes only by asking the question. Would you stay as the Kyraug that your master has created, or the Kyraug that you desire?"

---

Stonewall, Ifosea
Vexumin [Damik]
​

Damik's guards quickly rushed inside to see the situation unfold, some with shocked expressions as the man convulsed, bled and choked on some unseen force's whim. One quickly ran out to seek an apothecary, or anyone of healing skill, in the nearby area. Shouting as he did, the guard drew attention but none had answered the call. In the meantime, the teller continued to spasm and die in the young lord's arms. That was until, at the last moment, he regained some of his strength and gripped Damik's shoulder. He stared into the young man's eyes with milky, unseeing eyes as the light of life faded from his being.

However he did not appear frightened or afraid of his impending fate. Rather, he let out a crooked grimace from his mouth and dragged Damik's head closer to whisper. "Three kings sit upon a throne of lies... and the boy becomes a pawn... for dark tidings."

A final rattle came from his throat as he went limp, and died, in Damik's arms.

---

The Golden Talon Tavern
Worthlessplebian [Siert]
​

Jomier listened intently to the mercenary's recountings of his previous work, not uttering a word nor making a sound save for his soft breathing as he took in the stories that had been given to him so generously. It was all more exciting, even what Siert might have considered to be mundane, when compared to the traditions and roles of court life. Jomier had zero intentions of fulfilling his father's intentions for his role in the family, both from spite against him as well as his own nature, which in turn meant that he himself had his own stories to tell. And when Siert inquired about the lordling's own experiences, he was more than happy to reciprocate.

"Well I suppose it depends on what exactly you mean by dirtied hands," Jomier spoke as he leaned back in his seat, "But I imagine your definition of such a thing differs to mine. Intrigue always creates dirt I suppose, especially when it deals with other lords of the realm. Some are far too beneath the likes of my father to ever notice, but I see the value of... connections. The name I mentioned to your compatriot Amarok? That carries weight in some circles. Especially for the knight I sent him after."

Jomier threw his hands up dramatically: "But how could I have known such a thing in the first place? Well, I got my hands dirty. The secrets often kept by the nobility of our Empire could topple entire Houses if they ever came to light. And so it is an ever growing war of information and blackmail. Neither side willing to truly reveal what they know out of fear of being taken down with them. If you knew even half the things some of these Lords get up to..." Jomier spoke with a dramatic whistle at the end. "Tis a dangerous game with ambiguous prizes. The rewards are never clear, as people are often irrational. So instead I have to make educated guesses as to a course of action's effects."

---

The Imperial Garden
Infab [Oliver]
​

Enya was surprised by the arrival of Oliver, as she had been enamoured by the flowers in front of her, and quickly reciprocated a bow to the young Lord. "Ah, Lord Froste! My apologies, I, uh..." she spoke, somewhat flustered, before recomposing herself. She sat back down next to Oliver and offered a soft smile. "I couldn't help but look at these flowers. Out of many things here from across the Empire, none had entranced me quite so like these. So unassuming and yet..." she said before stopping herself. Could she really bring herself to describe what might have been a trick of the mind to a complete stranger? To a Lord of the Empire of all people?

If anything it would make her seem like a raving madwoman to speak such things, and instead she shook her head. "And yet, their colours attracted me so. They are from Tarth, are they not? Your home?" she then asked, "I have never been... well, I have not been anywhere outside of the North until of late. What is it like there?"

---

The Imperial Council, The Spire
K0mori [Lazarus], GrieveWriter [Adelaide], Breadman [Vigot]
​

After Lazarus delivered his proposal on the Redlands question, he could see that the reaction was mixed from the Council. Viselic, unlike before, now looked impressed with such a drastic and radical plan of action brought forth as he gave a nod. The Emperor remained stoic and unmoving as he digested the course of action proposed by Lazarus, while General Vildrith and Count Touvelle looked with concerned expressions that signalled their own internal misgivings and doubts. Ser Eren, however, had the strongest reaction as the colour visibly drained from his face and looked horrified.

"You... can't be serious?" the Lord Commander of the Redguard asked, as if hoping that Lazarus had uttered a poor-taste joke rather than a serious suggestion.

Viselic on the other hand, looked ready to applaud the Lord von Holt's initiative in this matter as he let out a smile. "A bold plan. Dangerous times require drastic measures. I support this plan of action."

General Vildrith remained silent as he shook his head, doubt laced across his visage while the Exarch of Laws looked sheepishly to his compatriots at the table. "...it could work. If done properly. But it presents not just logistical challenges, but legal ones too."

"There is nothing legal about this!" Ser Eren then spat out with fury, "You're talking about moving entire communities... cities from their lands by force! It sets a precedent so vile and dangerous that what's to stop any future Emperor from doing the same to his enemies? This would absolutely start a war-"

"Like it or not, Ser, but war is already upon us." Count Viselic then spoke up in defence of Lazarus' plan, "And a conflict is something we absolutely cannot afford. And so the Lord is right: we must rip away their reason for fighting."

Ser Eren then turned towards the Emperor with a pleading look of desperation, hoping to salvage the situation in any way possible. He hoped the Emperor's word would put a decisive end to this line of thought. But much to his shock, the Emperor looked to be pondering or even considering Lazarus' point of view. The ailing sovereign appeared conflicted, but did not dismiss the idea entirely as he turned his gaze across the table to the young Lord. "I... will need time to consider this." he stated, "In the meantime, I ask that you speak nothing of these matters to anyone... not even your confidants."

With a slight wave of his hand, Lord von Holt was dismissed and given leave from the tumultuous meeting. The atmosphere of the room was now tense as Lazarus departed, the doors being opened to him from the outside. "Highlord, your presence is now requested." one of the exterior guards then spoke, beckoning the commander of Rainor's Wall into the room. Once inside, he took the seat that Lazarus had previously inhabited and now faced the Emperor and his Council. Though it was an unwelcome meeting as the previous conversation and the lingering question as to his presence in Ifosea stirred seats.

Count Viselic however was quick to speak up as he cleared his throat. "As you know, I was the one to summon the Highlord-"

"For what purpose? Surely not to simply dump the stockades onto him and his troupe?" General Vildrith asked with concern as he looked towards the Highlord.

"Perhaps it is best for the Highlord to explain the situation himself, then." Viselic then spoke, turning his own gaze to Vigot as he expected an answer.

 

[Breadman]

"A great threat amasses outside our walls, your excellency." There was no point in wasting the emperor's time and nerves. Not with something like this. Direct and to the point. The highlord's face would be serious throughout as he gives the report to the council. "For nearly a year our scouts have tracked and observed the wild men from beyond the wall. We do this to see how we can disrupt and prevent incursions into the land to the south. But the reports have started to paint a grim picture. We counted seventy-seven tribes that have banded together under a banner." A brief pause followed by worse news "We count over a hundred thousand strong among the wild men of Icewrack. This doesn't include their families, the beasts that are rumored to fill their ranks and whatever they might bring to Rainor's wall." Others may scoff, but the Highlord doesn't have the luxury to dismiss the possibility of magic or beasts joining the armies. Not after what he's seen.

"The watchmen currently stationed are not enough and the fodder we get from your realm's dungeons will do little to hold the tide." He looked to those gathered "We need trained armies if we are to hope to crush the savages and scatter them to the cold winds again."
---

Greetings to the three of you. I am Ser Thorne, of House Froste.

"Goldbert and Pila of the Watchmen on the wall, ser." The scoutmaster greeted the new arrival and letting the other lord introduce himself proper. "Titles are not something we carry as we have sworn them off in order to serve the realm in our way."

"Indeed." Pila agreed drily "How can we help you, ser?"

 

[Vexumin]

Kyraug

The man leans back in his chair, giving the young princes words some thought. The Kyraug that he would want to be, eh? In truth, there was only ever one dream that Kyraug had when he was younger. It was a dream that any youth might have. What kid didn’t want to become a knight? Well that was Kyraug’s previous desire.

To walk in armor made for him. To practice with the blade over having to learn how to wield such an underhanded weapon. As a knight, he would serve as something other than a servant as well. Perhaps a knight-errant? A knight that wanders and performs good deeds for those in need? That sounds nice.

“I suppose I would be a knight then. If I had the chance to be something that I absolutely wanted to be, then I would be a questing knight. Make those childhood dreams come true. I know that a knight is heavily bound by their duty and honor. I don’t mind that. It would probably be less work than I currently have on my shoulders. Though it is truly a silly notion.“

The Vadyeen chuckles at the thought, crossing an arm over his chest and raising the other to tap at his bottom lip with a finger.

“What a thought. What a -thought-.”

---

Damik

Damik recoiled from the mans touch at first, almost fearing what he had to say next. What came would weigh on Damik. Why did he have to hear any of this. The poor fellow seemingly sacrificed himself to offer a telling of the future. What to expect. It was like a vise around the young lords heart at this moment, and he could feel it beating against its constricting hold.

”Three kings sit upon a throne of lies, and the boy becomes a pawn for dark tidings.”

Damik repeated the foretelling, and speaking the words felt like he had begun invoking oncoming doom. The dread hung over him. He gestured for one of his guards. The armored man approached, bowing slightly as to hear his lords command. Damik took a moment before he next spoke.

“Inform local enforcement of this fellows passing. Have them try and find any family, next of kin. Whatever they can find. If there is nothing, have them give his poor man a proper burial. Make sure he rests well.“

He didn’t know what more to say than that. He would remain with the body until it was taken away, then he would steadily begin o make his way back to the palace. His first day in the city and he already had blood on his hands. He couldn’t help but wonder how his father would have handled the situation, but after a moment he steeled himself. His father wasn’t here. He was here. He would deal with things as they came up.

“Hold fast, keep moving forward. Keep in mind the warnings you were given, be them truth or falsehood.”