Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/April

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Dubhaine Family
Fame 40
Wealth 19485
Home Region Ashforth
Home World East Continent

1st April

Summer Evening -- Poryatu

Kaguya Fujiwara

"Twenty-five hours before we make landfall in Port Nebel, milady."

"Thank you, Alfreid."

With no further orders forthcoming, the captain-butler lingered a few moments on deck beside his liege. Normally there would be a multitude of minutae of keep Alfreid occupied as Kaguya and her retainers went about their duties within the Empire, but stuck aboard a ship on a days-long journey across the ocean... not so.

It made him slightly uncomfortable.

"The ocean is beautiful at this hour, is it not, Alfreid?"

"I suppose it is, milady."

"See, my captain, how the light of the waning sun casts such vibrant colours upon the waters. Feel the breeze on your face. Taste its salt-laden chill upon your lips as day recedes, and dusk draws near."

"Most poetic, milady."

Alfreid shifted imperceptibly, ever so slightly betraying his growing agitation.

"I was rather occupied at thought about our landing protocols, milady."

"Ah," Kaguya turned to face him, her serene countenance replaced with seriousness, though the twinkle in her eyes suggested some amusement. "Always about work."

The Fujiwara heiress gestured in the direction of the cabin, and the two made to return below-decks.

"So, my ever-comprehensive retainer, what do you propose that I shall wear when I am to present myself before the King of D'Hara?"

Alfreid knew that she was humoring him, but smiled slightly nonetheless as the conversation steered towards more familiar waters, at least where he was concerned.

"I was thinking something in blue, or perhaps indigo, milady. Colours that honour the royal arms of D'Hara will surely not go awry with our hosts."

"Very well."

The duo arrived outside Kaguya's accommodations.

"Twenty-five hours, did you say, Alfreid?"

"Approximately, milady."

"You shall bring me parchment and some ink. I must write to our honoured hosts in advance of my arrival."

"Of course, milady."

Dorian Pavus

For a moment, Dorian saw nothing. Nothing in his sight, vision shrouded. It was not the first time had this come to him. And just as quick as it came, it left his eyesight, or rather, lack thereof. He knew the signs, he had read about them. At the young age of 22, could he really allow himself to be subjected to his fate? Though, what choice did Dorian have? He had already tried everything - prayer, medicine, just outright waiting and hoping the situation would improve on its own. But it was not. It was becoming more frequent, lasting for longer. His eyes were becoming commonly red, the pain, the discomfort, the blurred vision. There was only one way this was going to end - blindness.

Aldrakar Renodin

Strolling around the University

Outside, standing vigil around the University grounds were the men of the Renodian Elite. Finely trimmed bushes lined the pathways and crisp looking trees dwarfed the men as either looked suspiciously a lot like the other. Straight backed, regal and unapproachable.

Within the University grounds itself walked Aldrakar. Inspecting the place, conversing with key staff members and generally making up his mind on how well the place had been planned out. So far, he was rather pleased and it showed. He moved about the place with a cheerful demeanor and wore a bright smile upon his lips.

An Audience

Followed by one of his most trusted servants, Dorian walks slowly out to find Emperor Renodin. "My Emperor," he bows. "I thank you for offering me time. Somewhere more private would be fitting. My quarters?" ~Dorian Pavus

Seeing the young man appear before him Aldrakar allowed his lips to form a welcoming smile. In response to the bow he pursed them a little and his hand started to rise in objection but only slightly and he never finished the gesture as Dorian had already finished the bow. "You have quarters at the University sir Dorian?" Aldrkar smirked. "No, that won't do. We're not flirtatious lovers and your, quarters, won't do." Speaking the words Aldrakar began to move away and towards one of the gazebo's offering views of the surrounding water. Passing under a large peach tree Aldrakar failed to glance back to see if Dorian actually followed and rather continued speaking. "What is it that is of such grave personal importance? That you'd have to speak to me in person."

As he had hoped the gazebo was abandoned by people but rich in shelter and privacy. Even without walls it stood far enough away that while they might be spotted by passers by, their words shouldn't be audible from that distance. Taking a seat, Aldrakar visibly relaxed and fixed his gaze on Dorian.

Dorian Pavus

Seeing the young man appear before him Aldrakar allowed his lips to form a welcoming smile. In response to the bow he pursed them a little and his hand started to rise in objection but only slightly and he never finished the gesture as Dorian had already finished the bow. "You have quarters at the University sir Dorian?" Aldrkar smirked. "No, that won't do. We're not flirtatious lovers and your, quarters, won't do." Speaking the words Aldrakar began to move away and towards one of the gazebo's offering views of the surrounding water. Passing under a large peach tree Aldrakar failed to glance back to see if Dorian actually followed and rather continued speaking. "What is it that is of such grave personal importance? That you'd have to speak to me in person."

As he had hoped the gazebo was abandoned by people but rich in shelter and privacy. Even without walls it stood far enough away that while they might be spotted by passers by, their words shouldn't be audible from that distance. Taking a seat, Aldrakar visibly relaxed and fixed his gaze on Dorian.

"No doubt you are right, my Emperor," Dorian nods, following Aldrakar past the tree, and into the gazebo, leaving his servant behind. He sits opposite Aldrakar, taking a breath before speaking aloud: "I am afflicted with something incurable. Blindness. My father faced it, as did his, and I hoped it a coincidence, but now it appears hereditary. Prayers have gone unanswered, medicine has had little effect, and my studies become much more difficult with my sight. I have taken to my servant reading for me, for I can hardly do so myself. I seek your guidance before I speak to the world, or even have such a thing even written." He stands, leaning against the wall and peering out to the university grounds. He looks down to see the Summer flora, before turning his sight back to Aldrakar.

"What do you suggest I do?"

Emyhr le Craint

With the moon high in the sky, the faint sounds of revelries emits from the camp as the men of the Vanguard enjoy a restful evening in preparation for the upcoming battle. As is custom with the House of Le Craint, Emyhr can be seen fraternizing with the remaining warriors around a fire with a drink in hand.

"My Father used to tell me of the stories of his days leading this very vanguard, before we had risen to these ranks, of fights against the monsters. His face always filled with pride whenever he talked about the accomplishments of his generation."

The men looked intensely at Emyhr as he told the story, for many of the men are second generation vanguards and had most certainly heard the same story from their fathers. But they were more interested to hear it from the perspective of their respected commander.

"One specific time comes to mind, with an incident around an ambush within a forest. Where my father's second in command had come up with an ingenious plan to disguise scarecrows as knights and place them within a clearing. Of course, this lead to an astounding ambush with no casualties. But the funniest part came from the three particular warriors during the attack."

With this, the men's interest peaked, with silence across their faces waiting for the answer.

"Of course to make an enticing target, they needed the clothes for the scarecrows. These three men had volunteered to use their clothes, this led to the distracting moment of the naked men charging at the monsters once the ambush was sprung."

Resounding laughter erupted from the men gathered, with particularly embarrassing looked from a certain young warrior who had heard the story, but from his fathers perspective excluding the naked charge. Emyhr seeing this, approached the man, passed him another mug of ale, and gave a hearty grin which cheered the man up.

The conversation continued for some time until Emyhr stood up, wished his men a good rest in preparation for the expedition tomorrow. As he approached his tent, the feeling of nervousness grew stronger for this would be his first major event without his father. But he knew that he should honor his fathers memory. And with that notion, he entered his tent to rest for tomorrow would be a long and exciting day.

Aldrakar Renodin

Question from the Blind

I have taken to my servant reading for me, for I can hardly do so myself. I seek your guidance before I speak to the world, or even have such a thing even written." He stands, leaning against the wall and peering out to the university grounds. He looks down to see the Summer flora, before turning his sight back to Aldrakar.

"What do you suggest I do?" ~Dorian Pavus

The mellow feeling that had grown over the course of the day waned as Aldrakar took in the words from the young Noble across from him. Leaning back against the structure of the gazebo Aldrakar licked his lips before responding. "Some men lose fingers in battle." The delivery rather matter-of-factly. His eyes sought those of the young man. "Others lose a limb." A near imperceptible shrug. "I've seen ears torn from heads and eyes plucked from sockets both by the hands of other men and by beasts." He shifted his weight and pointed a shoulder at the youth as his head aligned with said shoulder. "Did they despair? Sure they did." A thin line of a mouth and raised eyebrows were offered. "They also kept going. Life is never fair and often cruel. If we are gambling men we must play the hand that is dealt Dorian."

Aldrakar watched the man in front of him. Observing as the words sank in and what they did to him.

Dorian Pavus

The mellow feeling that had grown over the course of the day waned as Aldrakar took in the words from the young Noble across from him. Leaning back against the structure of the gazebo Aldrakar licked his lips before responding. "Some men lose fingers in battle." The delivery rather matter-of-factly. His eyes sought those of the young man. "Others lose a limb." A near imperceptible shrug. "I've seen ears torn from heads and eyes plucked from sockets both by the hands of other men and by beasts." He shifted his weight and pointed a shoulder at the youth as his head aligned with said shoulder. "Did they despair? Sure they did." A thin line of a mouth and raised eyebrows were offered. "They also kept going. Life is never fair and often cruel. If we are gambling men we must play the hand that is dealt Dorian."

Aldrakar watched the man in front of him. Observing as the words sank in and what they did to him.

Dorian waits a moment in silent ponder, before opening his mouth to reply. "But rid the soldier of his sword-arm, and what fate awaits him? The eyes are the doorway to the world. The way that I must study with no ability to do so. To lose a finger or an ear or a tongue or even an arm or leg wold be bearable. I would perhaps even choose all of those over blindness. I have faced my despair, and I have accepted it. There will be no counter." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "What is a soldier without his sword? A lord without his land? An empire without its emperor? Equally, I am the scholar without eyes. A lost sheep that cannot return to the flock. Nor is there another flock to go to. The gambling man will always play the hand he is dealt - but when the wager will affect those beyond just him is all too many ways, is the situation not different? He cannot raise, he cannot call. He cannot check, and he lives the bluff. All that is left to fold. My mentor always taught me that studying board games and card games was useful in the life of the warrior. My sister is a 'mistress of war', and I am to be blind in my early twenties."

He looks down, before slowly looking back up to Aldrakar. "If there is a way to play this hand, I do not think I can do it alone. I would like to, but perhaps it is the hand that should not be played? Perhaps the cards do not align with the game I am playing."

2nd April

Summer Day -- Poryatu

Aldrakar Renodin

The Emperor's Words

He looks down, before slowly looking back up to Aldrakar. "If there is a way to play this hand, I do not think I can do it alone. I would like to, but perhaps it is the hand that should not be played? Perhaps the cards do not align with the game I am playing." ~Dorian Pavus

Straightening his back Aldrakar could do nothing to prevent the slightest of frowns to mark his facial features. "Melodramatic" A word whispered ever so softly. His deep blue eyes locked with the orbs belonging to Dorian. A new found rigidity seeping into his posture. "Do not debase yourself with pathetic mewling. Not a season ago you proclaimed yourself a prophet." The look he cast the boy man was withering. "You are a Highborn. If you want to wallow in the black pools of pity join the ranks of our neighbors. You will have a spine and you will behave accordingly." An arm stood poised to lance a viciously accusing finger right through Dorian's chest. "Stolen of Sight, Sound and Sanity you still stand a mountain among the pebbles of the world. Rid yourself of this self pity and adapt. Do you understand?" If Dorian was a sandcastle, the ocean of words was thrown at him relentlessly.

Dorian Pavus

Straightening his back Aldrakar could do nothing to prevent the slightest of frowns to mark his facial features. "Melodramatic" A word whispered ever so softly. His deep blue eyes locked with the orbs belonging to Dorian. A new found rigidity seeping into his posture. "Do not debase yourself with pathetic mewling. Not a season ago you proclaimed yourself a prophet." The look he cast the boy man was withering. "You are a Highborn. If you want to wallow in the black pools of pity join the ranks of our neighbors. You will have a spine and you will behave accordingly." An arm stood poised to lance a viciously accusing finger right through Dorian's chest. "Stolen of Sight, Sound and Sanity you still stand a mountain among the pebbles of the world. Rid yourself of this self pity and adapt. Do you understand?" If Dorian was a sandcastle, the ocean of words was thrown at him relentlessly.

"I know now what I must do," said Dorian, in a sincere and passionate tone. "A Hero dies a hero's death, and I must plan accordingly a journey to the west. First, however, I need to write my life's works. Create a legacy where the Hero Dorian, he of religious truth, will be immortalised. The ultimate adaption." he pauses a long moment, a smile finally coming to his face. "This is not the burden I once thought it was. It is perhaps the greatest gift that I have been offered since becoming a knight of Luria Nova. I finally understand the words of the sacred texts" he pulls out a copy from his pocket, gazing at the paper disappointed. "I cannot read to remind myself, but it speaks of immortality. This is it. Weave your own story. The power of life and death is my own." He sighs with great relief, the great boulder resting upon him gone. "Do you think I am mad? I think not." he answers his own question, without giving Aldrakar a chance to reply. "I am rid of pity and have adapted. Unless this is not what you meant?" he flexes, proud of himself once more.

Aldrakar Renodin

Resolution

"Do you think I am mad? I think not." he answers his own question, without giving Aldrakar a chance to reply. "I am rid of pity and have adapted. Unless this is not what you meant?" he flexes, proud of himself once more. -Dorian Pavus

As the words flowed from the young man Aldrakar listened calmly. "Each man makes his own mark. You decide what that will be for you and how you give it shape." A slow nod followed. "You're not mad Dorian, simply trying to find purpose. Make sure whatever it is you settle upon is truly what you want. Go now. And let the world know who Dorian Pavus truly is."

With that Aldrakar relaxed again, allowing a gentle breeze to play with his golden hair. Allowing the young man to depart first.

Dorian Pavus

As the words flowed from the young man Aldrakar listened calmly. "Each man makes his own mark. You decide what that will be for you and how you give it shape." A slow nod followed. "You're not mad Dorian, simply trying to find purpose. Make sure whatever it is you settle upon is truly what you want. Go now. And let the world know who Dorian Pavus truly is."

With that Aldrakar relaxed again, allowing a gentle breeze to play with his golden hair. Allowing the young man to depart first.

"I..." for a moment, Dorian seemed lost for words. A first for him, by all means. "Thank you, Emperor. I see with clarity unrivalled by my own vision now. This is exactly what I needed. I fear I will not see your face again after this. Perhaps I will. I will write up my life's works and send them to you. It will be you who decides what happens to them." he stands, preparing to leave. "Whether they will be published and endorsed by perhaps the greatest emperor - two times - Luria will have, or the urban legend of the outskirts. For now, I have a job to do. As I am sure you do also, Emperor. It has been the greatest honour of all to serve."

He turns, bowing. "Where the realm will lose a Pavus, I will ensure another comes, be it a cousin or a brother or family even more distant. The Pavus family owes fealty to you and this realm. Always." He walks away, back straight with his shoulders back.

3rd April

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Giovanni

Spitting out his broken teeth in Hvergelmir, Ranger Giovanni grins despite losing many of his teeths. His face has been hammered by monsters and undead so many times now that he gets used to it. Gripping his left hand on knife and his right hand on dagger, he looks like any seasoned adventurer seeking fame and glory. Noone know how much motivated he is or for what reason he fights on tenaciously against fate. Perhaps he is destined to die on unmarked grave. Perhaps he will be remember for who he is.

Panting as Ranger Giovanni makes another escape from close death in another monster hunt, he recollects his belongings. One more Book need to be collected and he would be able to hunt down even the strongest monsters on the lands.

Bandaging his left ear, he groans slightly in pain. There is a long slash of monster claw, his latest scar addition. After his left ear is bandaged, he turns to look at his left foot which is bleeding. He smiles slightly thinking of his Ranger badge as he bandages his left foot which is missing two fingers. He remembers well how he loses his foot fingers. He remembers telling the undead champion off whether the champion wants a piece of him, and this is what he gets.

Walking limply to the tavern, he ties up two smaller knives around both his ankles. These knives help him in many close fights, these are his close friends against the threat to the lands. He would use them before long.

Arriving at the tavern, he nods at the tavern keeper as he orders a mug of ale. Suddenly a sword is drawn against his back.

"Do not look back. Give me your money" a stranger speaks quietly enough for him to hear.

With a lightning reflex that betrays his current condition, Ranger Giovanni puts down his left hand knife and his right hand dagger on table. No sooner he withdraws his knives from his ankles, the would-be robber fall down and breaths his last. The tavern folk nods in respect of Giovanni swordsmanship skill, a few patrons bow their hats in appreciation and none dare to challenge him. He returns to his drinking.

Autumn Evening

Raine Gildre

Raine stepped from the gangplank of the ship which was moored in the harbor and let the sight of Giask flood over her. It had been years since she had last set foot in the capital. A young bureaucrat then, she now returned as... something else.

She looked back at the ship with distaste. The journey had been terribly long, and she rejoiced at having her boots back on solid ground. She grinned, adjusted her rapier, and strode off to speak to the porters.

After a brief discussion, she submitted papers to take over the Market District of the city, and the porters began towing her effects to the estate.

With a nod, she headed towards the recruitment center.

7th April

Autumn Day -- Dantooine

Aldrakar Renodin

The Hunting Party Gathers

The gravel under foot crunched under the weight of heavy boots and hooves. "Saevio" Aldrakar said warmly as he traced the fine beast's mane with a gloved hand. Gathered outside the Golden City's perimeter was a fully fletched hunting party. Outriders knowledgeable with the local terrain eyed the Nobles they otherwise would never see. Dog-handlers strained to keep the packs in check. Baying, growling and excited yelps abounded and dared diligent hands to slacken for but a moment. Aldrakar looked over to a round faced man. Too short and actually rather ugly but none let on that they thought so. "Sir Irona, how goes the shipping business?" The Emperor asked with measured friendliness. The rather confident, unseemly man inclined his head as his lips all but wiggled out a pouting smile. "Quite well your Imperial Highness. The D'harans have been hard hit of late so they're willing to pay more which is good. Never liked their Islander ways." The swishing of the fat cheeked man painfully obvious as he spat out tiny little droplets of spittle. "Hmmmm.." Aldrakar affected interest while he continued admiring his steed. The creature had been with him for a long time. Its father before it and its father before it again. "Can't argue with good bloodlines." He mused to himself. "What was'h that?" Sir Irona asked. "Ohh nothing, some wine?" A gesture from the golden haired Emperor saw a servant rush to Sir Irona's side with a cup of the bordeaux liquid.

Riders were still joining the party and each tried to outdo the other with the size of their personal retinue. Some even brought their own trumpeters. Several foxes however, dreaded what the future had in store for them. If their present situation was anything to go by their fates were already sealed. Bars of Iron kept them where they were but a single lock was all that stood between them and fanged freedom.

Emyhr le Craint

It had been quite the Journey from the north once again but the retinue of Emyhr Le Craint finally arrived at the gathered hunting party as they prepared to depart. However, the group that arrived was small, with Emyhr, his personal attendants and a few armed guards which compared to the larger more sizable numbers that had came with the other nobles. Emyhr, however, was happy to be invited to the hunting party.

Upon his arrival, Emyhr headed straight to the location of the Suzerain Emperor. "My honorable and respected Emperor, your kindness in inviting me to this wondrous hunting trip has not gone unnoticed. I apologies greatly for my lack of entrance, my Vanguard are hard at work within Dantooine, working with the local population to convince them of the greatness of Luria Nova."

With this statement, Emyhr gave a great bow in awe of the figure standing before him. This would be the first official meeting between the two, Emyhr had wanted to meet him sooner but duties had called him north with the Emperor's Will.

"To be in your presence is the highest privilege. If you have no objection, I would be greatly honored to join your personal retinue on this trip."

Holding his head down, he waited for a response. The Emperor's aura commanded great respect, to which Emyhr would uphold all formalities throughout the trip.

Donald Augustus Allan

Without his the burden of his company the journey from Thar Gortauth to the location of the Emperor's hunt was a far more relaxing event, and being a lone rider meant he could cover twice, even three times the ground in one day. But even Donald was loath to travel without servants or retainers, and so some were organised to come down from the family home in Askileon and meet him prior to the hunt. And by the time of the Viscount's arrival, they had already prepared some temporary quarters for the Viscount as well as anything he might need for the hunt.

As his horse trotted towards the gathering hunting party he observed the gathered array of knights, nobles, retainers, hunters, squires and of course the Emperor. Aware of the status of the gathered individuals Donald had taken his time to pick out suitable, but still fashionable attire. He wore a deep brown gambeson, held in place by some small iron straps that fitted tightly across his chest. Of quality make it was practical yet comfortable. As well as this he had a pair of strong breeches and a most excellent pair of black boots, polished and studded they had been specially made for the Viscount by an expert cobbler in Shinnen. As he dismounted his steed the hobnails clicked on the cobbles ever so lightly. About his shoulders hung a cape of deep burgundy which was lined with a narrow layer of grey fur and held in place just above his left breast by a golden broach cast in the shape of a solar disc; the frowning face of House Allan.

Handing the reigns of his horse to one of the party's retainers he walked confidently towards the centre of the camp where the Emperor was located. Before the Emperor stood a Knight unknown to Donald, even with his face obscured by a low bow he did not recognise the figure nor the heraldry of the man. A Knight of...Earth Hall? he wondered. "To be in your presence is the highest privilege. If you have no objection, I would be greatly honored to join your personal retinue on this trip." Stepping forward he took up position alongside the Knight, dropping to one knee and arcing his head he conducted a respectful bow towards his Emperor "Your Highness" said Donald "I am honoured to be in your presence once more"

Emyhr le Craint

Without moving from his position, Emyhr's eyes looked to his right where a Knight of unknown origin had approached. From his attire, it could be assumed he was a respectable man and like himself he had arrived without the company of his normal retinue. However, he was also giving off a experienced aura to which Emyhr could recognize. Thinking to himself while waiting for a response from the Emperor;

"I wonder if I could get some time to talk with him, while he does look young, he gives off an aura of experience. It would also interest me to learn more about where he comes from within Luria Nova and how things fare for him."

However, this would have to wait and immediately following the thought, his attention went straight back to the Emperor.

"Matters of formality have the highest priority and fraternizing comes later during the hunt."

With this, Emyhr's eyes returned to the ground beneath the Emperor. Waiting diligently for a response or recognition, excited for his first hunt and meeting with the Emperor himself.

Nicholas Archival

"Loras, do you remember what I told you?" Nicholas asked, calling the youth by his name to capture his attention. "This is your first outing, so I shall expect you to act as befitting a member of our family. I've been told to relay your behaviour to your father... and you know how he gets."

The boy to his side, no older than sixteen, shuddered astride his courser and nodded. The austere personalities of House Archival's older scions was well-known among the young. They continued on their way with but the smallest retinue of guards at hand; it wasn't necessary to bring a sizeable contingent, just enough to deter potential bandits. This time they were not passing through the gilded streets of Giask, instead travelling the roads coming in from the west. As they went, the Earl took several minutes to watch his cousin, to ascertain he would be ready for the presence of the Emperor - and whoever else deigned to attend. Loras was nervous, to be sure, but was handling it well.

Before long, as the Golden City loomed overhead, they arrived at the hunting party. His own hounds began to yap at the scent of unfamiliar dogs, as eager for the coming excursion as their owner. Nicholas cast a glance across the gathering thus far, quickly finding Emperor Aldrakar amidst the din. A youngster was knelt before him and Viscount Donald was moving to join him. He did not recognise the former, but the latter was of no surprise - Sir Donald could never resist an outing. He wondered who else would arrive after them.

Tugging on the reins of Storm, his stark grey courser, he led him over to where the party's steeds were being handled. He smoothly dismounted and waved over several grooms to attend his - and the others' - mounts. Once on foot, he looked over his attire. He smoothed the creases on his cloak, a golden sunburst of Autumnal light; it would be well-suited to the season and the browning of the leaves. The White Chevalier of House Archival was proudly displayed upon his breast, on his sturdy gambeson. Loras was soon as his side, fretting more nervously over his choice of clothing. It took all he had not to smirk at the boy; had he been the same way, on his first visit to Giask? Probably, he decided with quiet mirth.

Beckoning with a gloved hand for his cousin to follow him as he made his approach. Soft footsteps brought Nicholas closer by to Aldrakar and those on their knees, but he hung back for a moment. He wouldn't want to upstage either of them - unlike, he suspected, the good Viscount - and so he waited, observing with a piqued interest. However, the herald had taken note of him and seemed to be about to announce his arrival, but Nicholas silenced him with a short shake of his head and a small gesture towards the pair already presenting themselves. The man got the message and patiently returned to waiting for his cue. Nicholas did the same.

8th April

Autumn Day -- Dantooine

Aldrakar Renodin

First Impressions

Emyhr gave a great bow in awe of the figure standing before him. This would be the first official meeting between the two, Emyhr had wanted to meet him sooner but duties had called him north with the Emperor's Will. "To be in your presence is the highest privilege. If you have no objection, I would be greatly honored to join your personal retinue on this trip." Holding his head down, he waited for a response. The Emperor's aura commanded great respect, to which Emyhr would uphold all formalities throughout the trip. ~Emyhr Le Craint

Seeing how Saevio, his personal steed was taken aside by a squire to receive additional care and sweets probably. Aldrakar smiled warmly. Noticing a tall yet young man approach it became clear rather quickly that the man was a knight. As the young man bowed overly zealously Aldrakar enjoyed the smallest of chuckles. His eyes spied out Emyhr's scar. It was rather hard to miss. A crease in his skin that would never have occurred naturally and even crossed his left eye. It made Aldrakar pause for a moment. "That's quite the injury you've suffered." He slowly shifted his weight. "And so early in life." A single eyebrow arched.

From the background a short yet well postured man approached the Emperor like a second shadow. The man was no longer blessed with the vitality of youth but had another quality that granted him energy. Innate drive. He whispered some words to the Emperor while subtly indicating Emyrh. Aldrakar listened carefully without ever taking his eyes of the bowing Noble and finished with a tiny nod. After which the second shadow retreated again.

Stepping forward he took up position alongside the Knight, dropping to one knee and arcing his head he conducted a respectful bow towards his Emperor "Your Highness" said Donald "I am honoured to be in your presence once more" ~Donald Augustus Allan

Feigning some surprise Aldrakar looked at Donald. Pausing a noticeable moment and then smirked before turning his attention back to Emyhr. "Rise. Scion of House Le Craint." The words accompanied with a light touch upon the young man's shoulder. The sound of whinnying horse in the backdrop mingling with the rustle of leafs and the noises men make when they're exited for a little forest excursion. Which certainly included some laughs. "It would be my honour to have you in my personal retinue." Being this close to the silver haired youth Aldrakar studied him for a brief moment. "You're good with a spear no?" The twinkle in his eyes perhaps lost on some but veterans of his own retinue chuckled at the comment.

Moving away from Emyhr his attention fell on Donald next. "A pleasure Lord Donald. How is Sulorte these days? The pearl fisheries still prosperous? Not enjoying too much of the Sulortian reds I presume." The question blunted to a statement with a wink. Grabbing the beautiful man by his shoulders he displayed his vitality by bringing him to his feet. "Better. We are out to have some fun, sitting on your knees can't be that." Aldrakar beamed. "Come. Let us embrace Nicholas." Without pauze Aldrakar placed a hand on Donald's back and tried to maneuver him to face Nicholas whom had waited behind. Letting go as soon as he stepped towards the Imperial Magistrate in earnest.

A nearby and far to curious hare popped his head out from the brush. Its hazel coat near imperceptible but the hounds howled at the scent. One of the houndmasters fell over forwards as he was overpowered by the myriad of leashes he was trying to control. Seeing a horizontal hurricane rage through the crowd of men as the dogs charged at the hare.

Wrapping his arms around Nicholas a hearty laugh boomed from Aldrakar's mouth. "Nicholas! So good to see you again." He finished the embrace with placing a kiss on the Imperial Magistrate's cheek. As he let go Aldrakar's eyes fell upon Loras. "Who's this? Look at him!" He glanced at people nearby, gathering attention. "A veritable warrior!" Aldrakar clapped Loras on the shoulder. Speak boy. With whom do I have the pleasure?

So the Emperor made rapport with the younger members of the Realm. Hopefully bridging the gap between old and young.

Emyhr le Craint

As Emyhr stood waiting for a response, the anxiety of his position in the crowd started to grow. But the war response from the Suzerain Emperor immediately removed all worry from his body. With the response, Emyhr starts to stand up, finally getting a proper look at the respectable and awe inspiring man before him.

"My respected Emperor, your kindness knows no limits even to the inexperienced such as myself. I find myself comfortably with a spear, for this was the source of training in my youth with my father."

The mention of scar made Emyhr wince for a moment, for he had not totally recovered and the area was still tender. The scar holds place to the days before he lost his father, and had become a symbolic way of honoring his memory.

"This scar, my emperor, was given to my a few years passed. During a skirmish with the Vanguard under the command of my father, we were ambushed by monsters north of Poryatu, we suffered heavy casualties, I got this from the slash of a claw. Of course it is a shame to get a scar at such a young age, but I treat it now as a badge and a memory to never let my company suffer like that again."

Emyhr now stood with pride, he gave a hearty smile to let the company before him know that all is well at the moment and wishes not to downplay the mood. He then called over to his companions who brought over a long wooden spear which from a distance would look rather unremarkable, but Emyhr could be seen giddy with excitement. Up-close you would notice the ornate carving along the mahogany shaft depicting a fight between a snake and a dragon. The spear point glimmered, additionally inscribed with an ornate woven pattern and a central peace of a great tree. This was Emyhr's most prized possession, one that had been given to him by his father on his 18th birthday.

"I am ready and honored to join you on this hunt, and I shall show you the skills that my father blessed me with."

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Sire, I don't see why won't you join your uh... your Emperor and all the genry on the hunting trip." - beseeched the captain.

"Good Valdric, have you seen me shoot an arrow?" - aksed Myr.

"No, but..."

"But you have certainly seen the way I artfully throw a javelin." - said young knight, interrupting his captain.

"Uh, no. Actually I haven't."

"You must've seen me thrust a spear."

"No..."

"Ride a horse into the battle!" - Myr wasn't giving up.

"No" - the captain echoed.

"So..." - the knight grinned - "pray tell why, oh why am I not joining His Imperial Majesty and all the gentry on the hunting trip."

Valdric just bowed deeply flustered and in silent apologies departed the room.

Donald Augustus Allan

"A pleasure Lord Donald. How is Sulorte these days? The pearl fisheries still prosperous? Not enjoying too much of the Sulortian reds I presume." The question blunted to a statement with a wink. Grabbing the beautiful man by his shoulders he displayed his vitality by bringing him to his feet. "Better. We are out to have some fun, sitting on your knees can't be that." Aldrakar beamed. "Come. Let us embrace Nicholas."

Donald took his feet, the Emperor's hands clasped to his shoulders, the young Lord grinning merrily "I quite agree, My Lord" and allowed the Emperor to wheel him towards the Imperial Magistrate, who had a young boy in tow behind him.

Nicholas and Aldrakar shared a warm embrace, but quickly his attention was turned towards the boy. He couldn't have much older than seventeen years, and appeared to somewhat uneasy being around so many unfamiliar faces. Aldrakar's usual unfaltering, stoic demeanour suspended briefly as he attempted to engage the young man in conversation, which undoubtedly added to his anxiety.

Donald meanwhile, turned his attention towards the Earl: "Lord Nicholas, very good to see you. It has been far too long" he said "I'd say we're in for an excellent hunt, no doubt we'll find you a white stag before the day is out!"

Nicholas Archival

Perhaps expecting the enthusiasm emanating from the Emperor, Nicholas matched the man's greeting with an amiable warmth. "It is an honour to find myself in your presence once more, Your Highness," he answered, with a smile that teetered on the cusp of a grin. As Aldrakar turned his attention to Loras, the Magistrate surreptitiously stepped to one side; it would be sink or swim for the boy and his ability to deal with such an excitable liege now.

"Loras Archival, Your Majesty," he announced, having admirably steeled himself for the conversation. "I am Earl Nicholas' cousin - and his squire, until such a time that I have the experience to become a knight in my own right. It is an honour to be here, to attend your hunt." With his possibly rehearsed answer spoken, his confident grew, to match his build. The boy - although he would not be so for much longer - resembled Nicholas, with dark, tussled hair, those grey eyes and broad shoulders. Much like the Earl himself, he was born with the build of a soldier.

Meanwhile, Nicholas moved to engage with Donald in pleasantries. "And you, Lord Donald," Nicholas intoned genially. "I was rather expecting you to be present for the excursion; have you ever missed an opportunity for some excitement?" At that, the Earl laughed with gentle mirth, his good-humour evident on the day. "But pray tell me, who is this?" he asked, gesturing towards the nearby Sir Emhyr. "I don't think we've yet had the pleasure."

Off to the side, Nicholas' men continued their final preparations for the hunt. Bowstrings were tested, javelins sharpened, dogs kept in line. Most notably, however, was the chief attendant, preparing an elaborate, deadly-looking crossbow; its cost must have been sizeable, with an ornate golden trim and varnishing. It seemed that the Magistrate had little intention of using a bow himself.

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Sofia Nistalia

Sofia turned her back on the bloodshed, her armor stained with the blood of the bandits she spent the entire day hunting. Her men picked up anything that could be salvaged and handed to the population, but there was little left. Most of it had been consumed by the flames unleashed when a torch hit their hay beds. The wooden shacks in the middle of the forest burnt with ease, fire spreading from one to another, and the nearby trees. The corpses of the bandits, piled on their cart, were carried down the mountain for a more sinister purpose.

The bandits, most of them young farmhands with former hope of survival, were hanged through the trees, littered on their way down, littering the forest's path. Their bodies hanging from their feet, their clothing removed and left to be nothing but food for wolves. The Nistalian Holy Guard had little mercy for the men, most of them used to the relentless undead or taking down the monsters that haunted the land, and the bandits offered little in their fight. To Sofia, it mattered little.

To her, this was bonding with her Emperor on a personal level. The emperor hunted animals, showing off his prey to whoever joined his hunt, like all hunts. She hunted those who she considered animals, and showed off her prey for the world to see. Sinners were nothing to her, but a leg that must be amputated off the empire of Luria for the good of all.

10th April

Autumn Day -- Askileon Purlieus

Aldrakar Renodin

Let Loose the Hounds

The spear point glimmered, additionally inscribed with an ornate woven pattern and a central peace of a great tree. This was Emyhr's most prized possession, one that had been given to him by his father on his 18th birthday. "I am ready and honored to join you on this hunt, and I shall show you the skills that my father blessed me with." ~Emyhr le Craint

"Excellent." Aldrakar looked at the huge boy man once more. Maybe in a few years time the youth would gain the bearing of a great warrior. He seemed in possession of all the prerequisites. A shrug saw the Emperor move towards his mount. Saevio was a magnificent creature. Raven black and barely hidden musculature under his pristine coat. Strong legs and eyes that roared spirit. Not a steed for a meek man and neither for anyone other than at the very least, a seasoned rider. The beast seemed to relax at Aldrakar's touch. The connection between the two seemed deep. Saying words absent sound and having an innate understanding of one another. Feeling satisfied Aldrakar smiled and climbed onto the fine beats's back. A squire quick to assist in fixing the straps and offering assistance where needed.

Signaling behind him towards a spot next to his other retainers Aldrakar looked at Emyhr. "Mount up and try not to fall behind." The teasing words were accompanied by an easy grin. Saevio responded by pawing the dirt impatiently. "You brought a horse I hope, if you didn't take one of mine." A glance informed the squire that had previously helped Aldrakar that this task of providing a mount would fall to him and he diligently went about it, should it be needed.

Having strode away from Loras previously, Aldrakar hadn't forgotten about the boy. He looked over to him and pondered for a moment. Extending an arm as he did so towards a page and gesturing towards the card that housed his personal weapons. "Spear." The page responded duly and lifted a boarspear from the cart and presented it to Aldrakar. Whom in turn gestured at Loras. "A gift." A short pause. "If you're going to go hunting with us you're going to need a weapon." Aldrakar jutted his chin out at one of his men at arms. "Give him your horse." Without question the man dismounted and led the creature to Loras. Offering the boy the reins. The ivory of of a bright smile shone as the Emperor looked at the small events unfold. "Ride with us Loras and make your father proud."

Nudging Saevio forwards the various retainers and servants took notice. The wind bowed to the occasion even and brought quiet to the otherwise constant rustle. "Friends!" Aldrakar exclaimed. "It's been too long. Even if we had met yesterday that would still hold true!" He grinned. "Let us be men among men. Let's have some fun and ride like the wind!" He raised his hand into the air. "Today we hunt and tonight we feast on all that we will catch! One hundred pieces of gold to any man that catches the greatest Prize!" With that, some of the men cheered. Seizing the moment Aldrakar signaled the hound-masters and the servants at the Fox Cages.

Darting from their prisons of Iron. The bewildered and cunning creatures coated in red sped into the forest. Howls peaked and excitement rose in the hounds that saw their quarry escape. Mighty arms and biceps held them back for now as the moment drew near, Aldrakar grinned. "Begin!" Saevio pranced high and then thundered the earth as the Hounds were let loose. "One Hundred for the best Prize!" He reminded all gathered. Turning Saevio in the direction of where the hounds had rushed off into and relishing the hunt.

So the Royal Hunt began in earnest, fair game for all and promising that sport in which all could prove their virtue of war.

Emyhr le Craint

Seeing the grin, Emyhr felt at ease around the present company. He signaled to his attendant who brought out of a snow white stallion, with a simple but effective saddle. Emyhr mounted the stallion with great dexterity and followed the Emperor, keeping up the pace of his retinue. He could be seen with the biggest grin on his face, for his excitement for this event was too great to withhold from emotion.

"My honorable Emperor, I shall show you my experience gained from hunting in the wilds of the north", said with a full grin and admiration in his eyes.

Gripping his spear in hand and placing it within the holder on his saddle while they move. Placed with care, Emyhr looked towards the boundless landscape that followed as they left for the hunt. The peace of the region was strange compared to his experiences within the north, this atmosphere was very welcome.

Emyhr looked around at the company that had joined. The wise and experienced men that had come along overshadowed the young knight. However, Emyhr was happy to be a part of this experience, hoping to connect with the nobles at present. First he looked towards Sir Donald Augustus, he spoke in an admiring tone:

"Good noble Sir Donald, I hear from my attendants that progress has gone well in the south. To the extent that you have been granted the land. If you would be so kind, tell me of the experience in Thar Gortauth?"

Looking at the admirable figure before him, waiting patiently for a response.

Jeffrey Birkenhead

The moon stood bright over the military camp in Shinnen Purlieus, tinting the tents silver between the few burning campfires part of the night watch tends to. Except of silent chatter, silent enough to not necessarily wake anyone up, the calm of the night got shattered by the stomping of a swiftly approaching lone horse, followed by a sonorous man's voice.

"A message from Margravine Luarin Bowker for Sir Jeffrey Birkenhead!"

Letter from Luarin Bowker

Lord Jeffrey

I have heard good stories about you and think there might be good idea to have you under the banner of Sun Hall. Would you accept the duty of taking care of Garuck Udor?

Luarin Bowker

Duchess of Sun Hall

Margravine of Shinnen

Letter from Jeffrey Birkenhead

Margravine Luarin,

it honours me that you adress me as a Lord, an honor I feel is not mine to receive yet. Apparently, you intend to change that, though, if I interpret your words correctly. I see the offer to become Lord of a piece of Lurian corelands at the Euschean as it is, something only few can claim to ever have received, something few would ever turn down, something many would envy me for. Though, my heart prevents me from straight out accepting this offer, as it beats happiest when in my ancestral homelands, Askileon and its surroundings. Please give me time to consider. Two days, that is what I ask of you. Then or even earlier, and you shall have a definite response.

Humbly,

Jeffrey Birkenhead

Knight of Askileon

"I have grown fond of my estate close to our ancestral residence, maybe even attached."

The sun has just risen, and gathered in his tent could be found those that Jeffrey confides in: his cousin Bethany and the captain of the Birkenarrows, who was just known as Captain Andrea.

"Jeffrey, you'll be a Lord! How can you pass up on that opportunity? Also, the margravine is holding you high enough that she considers you, even already adresses you as Lord, refusing now would be plain stupid. I mean, think about it!"

A hint of a frown appeared on Jeffrey's face. "So you are suggesting my concerns are stupid, do I get that right?"

Bethany's voice was filled with excitement, passion and a good part of anger: "No, not at all! It's just... are you really thinking about turning down a Lordship here in the lands of the highborne?", she exclaimed all the while walking up and down through the tent, vividly gesticulating. "Tell me Jeffrey, are you serious? Also, Garuck Udor is lovely! Don't you like the sea?"

Jeffrey calmly responded: "You are not wrong, Beth. But... ah, Garuck Udor! It is probably as far as it can get from Askileon."

Rage took hold of Bethany. "So what?! If you refuse to change, step out of the shadows of others, you will never be able to get on par with our ancestors! You have to forge your own destiny!"

Jeffreys mouth opened, only to be shut moments later, repeatedly. He was speechless, did not know how to respond. That's when the third person in the tent raised her voice.

"Lady Bethany, I have never seen you lose your composure in such a way. It is quite unfitting for someone of your blood, I think."

A moment of confusion, some attempts of responding, but now Bethany found herself at a loss for words. She took a deep breath. "You are right, Andrea. But," she said, turning to her cousin, "What are you THINKING, Jeffrey?"

"I think that I want to remain loyal to Moon Hall, that's what I am thinking."

"I am just saying, but you can both remain loyal to Moon Hall and be a Lord of Sun Hall. Also, rising from 'Captain under a Knight' to 'Captain of a Lord' sounds like a promotion to me. Not that I'd demand any more gold or anything.", Andrea interjected, a sly smirk on her face.

"There we have it, Jeffrey." Bethany, now visibly calmed down, still gesticulated at her cousin, quite wildly so. "You vacating your estate in Askileon does not mean that our ancestral halls will crumble by next week, or that you must betray the duchy of Moon Hall. Please, consider it."

"Alright, you got me there." A moment of silence ensued as Jeffrey closed his eyes. He then, without a warning, declared: "Send for my scribe, I got a letter to write. Please make haste before I change my mind again."

Autumn Evening

Dorian Pavus

Dorian had joined the hunt with his captain, Hadwin, and a few adolescents. All clearly wearing gambeson with the Pavus crest - A golden eagle over a black and white shield. Each equipped with longbows.

"You were lucky children to be accepted for his hunt. Your parents each wrote me a case that I read - or rather, had read to me - each of their cases and chose the three of you based on that. You will grow into warriors, some of the most efficient of our time. Mordin, Gilad, Fergus. These are names that Luria Nova will grow to love, and you will serve in my unit when your training is complete. But for now, we celebrate your opportunity."

The five trudge through the south reaches of Giask, away from the other groups, hunting game - but not just anything, only the deer that would make the finest meals. Their hunting, however, suddenly came to a standstill. It was time to camp.

Nicholas Archival

As Nicholas set off to oversee his men and prepare to mount Storm once more, Loras began to join him - before taking note of Aldrakar headed his way once more. He immediately stood to attention, bowing his head deferentially toward the imperial monarch. Upon receiving both gifts - the spear and the steed - he regarded the elder statesman with something approaching awe, before remembering his manners. "Thank you, your majesty," he answered confidently. "Perhaps I shall show you well they teach we sons and daughters of House Archival." He finished, tentatively, with a grin. Somewhere off in the background, his cousin shook his head with quiet amusement and set off atop his steed with his men in tow; he would leave Loras to hunt alongside the Emperor. He had earned it.

As Loras surged ahead, astride the unfamiliar steed as easily as he would his own, it was plain to see that - while he shared his cousin's solemn appearance - he had a youthful exuberance that matched the inexperience of his age. He rode naturally and his aim was keen. It seemed his primary goal was to remain within Aldrakar's line-of-sight, to prove himself openly so that none might dispute it. The Earl, however, took his time with his ornate crossbow in hand. It was not long before one of his attendants was escorting a felled stag, brought low through a bolt straight through the eye; the well-struck reward for the man's careful, purposeful nature. He allowed himself a brief grin of exultation before he continued to press ahead; Nicholas was not inclined toward competition, but neither did he intend to lose.

Luarin Bowker

A boy came running with a letter in his hand:

Queen Luarin, it's from Askileon. It's from lord Jeffrey. I came running to deliver.

She took the letter and smiled as she read the answer. Lord Jeffrey was coming to Sun Hall.

Margravine Luarin Bowker,

I have made up my mind earlier than I anticipated. I would gladly accept your offer and raise the banners of Sun Hall to the sky.

Humbly,

Jeffrey Birkenhead

Knight of Askileon

Sun Hall had an excellent group of nobles now, which included the King, Zajar. Soon they would have more autonomy if everything went well. Luria was still a good place and being one of the kingdom's oldest dwellers, Luarin was well aware of that.

11th April

Autumn Day -- Askileon Purlieus

Donald Augustus Allan

"It's been too long. Even if we had met yesterday that would still hold true!" He grinned. "Let us be men among men. Let's have some fun and ride like the wind!" He raised his hand into the air. "Today we hunt and tonight we feast on all that we will catch! One hundred pieces of gold to any man that catches the greatest Prize!"

- Emperor Aldrakar

Donald signalled to the camp’s retainers and they brought forth his saddled destrier, a boar spear and a small collection of javelins which hung in a pack thrown over the saddle. He mounted the beast with ease and finally a young servant handed him his sword, for the young Lord would not want to travel far without it.

With the hounds let loose there was little to do but pursue the foxes, taking the reins of his steed in both hands he urged the beast onward. As he rode he heard a voice address him by name.

"Good noble Sir Donald, I hear from my attendants that progress has gone well in the south. To the extent that you have been granted the land. If you would be so kind, tell me of the experience in Thar Gortauth?"

- Sir Emyhr

He looked about and saw the large, youthful figure of the Knight, Sir Emyhr. “My friend” he said, almost shouting over the crescendo of noise “I would happily recount to you all I can of Thar Gortauth, but for the time being we’ve prey to pursue!”

Driving his horse towards greater speed he made a sharp turn in the forest trail, keeping pace with the clamour of the hunting hounds “Follow me, Sir Knight!” he yelled back to Emyhr.

The dogs were hot on the tail of the foxes, and the horses were just behind them. Their hooves pounding in to the soft ground as they thundered through the brush and trees; spurred onwards by excited noblemen. Donald’s eagerness and the hunting dog’s eagerness slowly began to split him away from the rest of the hunting party.

Emyhr le Craint

Seeing the enthusiasm of his fellow hunters, Emyhr leaped into a gallop on his stallion, following Sir Donald close behind. His eyes darting from side to side trying to catch sight of any animal that moves in the bushes. The sound of the barking hounds in the area surrounding the hunters and the occasional squeal of an animal being chased by said hounds set the hunt into full motion.

While Emyhr was a young man, keeping up with the group was proving a bit of a challenge. Suddenly, A flash of brown and the sound of a boar caught the attention of the young knight. Splitting from the group ever so slightly but keeping them within earshot, he chased the boar into the foliage of some nearby trees. Now cornered amongst the trees, the boar could not escape so easily. With one fell swoop of the spear, the boar went silent.

His attendant caught up to him, standing there a bit astounded, for this man had not spent much time with the young knight and was a bit surprised to see him capture the beast on his first try.

"Cerdic, if you dont mind, could you help my tie this boar up to bring back to the group. We shall have a great feast later." Emyhr said with a big grin on his face.

Together, the two tied up the boar and placed behind the saddle on the stallion. Mounting their horses once again, they headed back to the path that the group had been following. They were now quite some distance behind, but they caught up in no time, teeming with pride over the beast they had brought back with them.

Autumn Evening

Dorian Pavus

Dorian, with his hunters in tow, travel through the south reaches further in the twilight hours. In the usual hoof-made path, they notice stone slabs forming a route away from the road, and follow the new way revealed to them. It was terribly strange for such a thing to be in the middle of nowhere. As such, caution was necessary, the hunting bows replaced with sword and shield in case of ambush.

Down the path, they found a glade, a shining white horse facing away from them, eating the fresh, wild grass. The glade was surrounded by a circular body of water, where the usual trees of the forest remain tightly together. The horse had an odd flair about it, and so Dorian called the four to stand down. He almost felt compelled to do so. Laying down his own weapons, he begins to approach the pale equine.

But this was no horse. Upon its head was a horn. It was a unicorn. Through Dorian's blurred vision, he could not just see it, but also almost 'feel' it bow to him. He reaches down, taking a handful of grass, feeding it to the unicorn. He was feeding one of the most wondrous of all creatures, said to only appear beyond a rare few. While it is said to bestow magic, miracles and wisdom to those pure of heart, much like the Hero Dorian, he thought differently. His deeds were virtuous. Could this be why the beast appeared before him?

His doubts were settled. He was the hero Dorian, Harbinger of the Faith. And from just seeing this unicorn, he would serve Luria even more loyally than before. The ancestors must have looked down on him kindly for such a sight. While feeding the blessed animal, Dorian tells his captain and the students about the unicorn and its meaning. Even gently touching the horn on its head to ensure it was no fake. As night fell, the few settled in the clearing, setting up tents for the night where they would watch the stars in the sky. This night was far more peaceful than any they had faced. And for just one night, any tension, any worries, any fears were cast away. For that one night, there was little more than serenity in the serendipity.

Come morning, the unicorn had fallen asleep at Dorian's side. His own guardian angel as it were. The glorious equine grazed as the group packed up to leave, but to much surprised, it followed. The ancestors had sent Dorian not just a sighting of a unicorn - they had sent him a worthy ally in his blindness.

Chance Harte

Chance pranced along the path through Poryatu. He was on a mission.

It has been months since he had been on the road. Stuck in the depths of Giask's cruel academies, honing his dagger, practicing sword fighting, keeping to the shadows, and watching his realm mates gather for joyful feasts, hunting parties, and much alike. It was not his style as he watched their plentiful celebrations from the shadows of each room. Carefully using shadow step at each opportunity to gain more expertise. Only revealing himself once or twice to the surprise or knowing nudge of another noble...

The air was filled with the fragrances of life. Poryatu was the Grand Panetier Ciarghuala's land and said to0 be filled with the best food Luria could offer. Honeysuckle sweets and fresh baked bread were Chance's choice. He walked along happily, humming an old hymn and thinking of how he would slit his target's throat.

Karibash ka Habb

The ferries have been a mess for a full half day. Merchant ships that don't typically ferry brim with men, fishing boats loaded with equipment, and in fair Askileon, the Silver City, ninety-nine warriors seek to make their home. The men bring squires and retainers, armourers, cooks, families, but none approach the retinue of old Karibash himself. More than a dozen cooks, a squire to polish each piece of armour, four squires to dress him and another to supervise, five armourers, one solely for his chainmail, a revolving door of younger servants to tend to his needs, an old priest and a young priest, a scribe to write and a scribe to read, a maid to draw his bath, a storyteller, a poet, and a musician, and assistants for all the above.

The procession stretches from the docks approaching the King's Spiral. The Old Toren rides on a draft horse, surveying the streets. In the legends he is called a giant, but this man appears thin and quite elderly. As they approach the estate they spot noble banners. Somehow, someway, there has been a miscommunication. The estate is inhabited. Karibash does not speak, but his retainers explode into a flurry of activity. A messenger is sent to the magistrate seeking clarification.

12th April

Autumn Day -- Giask

Aldrakar Renodin

The ferries have been a mess for a full half day. Merchant ships that don't typically ferry brim with men, fishing boats loaded with equipment, and in fair Askileon, the Silver City, ninety-nine warriors seek to make their home. The men bring squires and retainers, armourers, cooks, families, but none approach the retinue of old Karibash himself. More than a dozen cooks, a squire to polish each piece of armour, four squires to dress him and another to supervise, five armourers, one solely for his chainmail, a revolving door of younger servants to tend to his needs, an old priest and a young priest, a scribe to write and a scribe to read, a maid to draw his bath, a storyteller, a poet, and a musician, and assistants for all the above.

The procession stretches from the docks approaching the King's Spiral. The Old Toren rides on a draft horse, surveying the streets. In the legends he is called a giant, but this man appears thin and quite elderly. As they approach the estate they spot noble banners. Somehow, someway, there has been a miscommunication. The estate is inhabited. Karibash does not speak, but his retainers explode into a flurry of activity. A messenger is sent to the magistrate seeking clarification.

Zeratul Blint

Zeratul helped row the small fishing boat into the harbor, the muscles in his back and shoulders strained as he fought against the waves. It was not hard work, but it was strenuous and tiresome. As the boat sailed onto the gravely beach and the birds grew ever more bold with their attempts at scoring a tasty treat, Zeratul stepped off the boat, the fringe of his cloak soaking up some of the sea water. He tossed a couple coins to the fisherman who owned the boat and the man thanked him profusely. Welcoming Zeratul to sail with him anytime.

As Zeratul wandered the city he wound his way around the various streets, he made his way into the courtyard of an empty estate. A wiry old man hustled out of the house coughing violently. He stood in front of Zeratul coughing for a great deal of time, Zeratul was getting a bit concerned that the man might never stop coughing. Abruptly the coughing subsided and the man said

"Welcome, My Lord to your new home. Silverdew Estate may not look like much on the outside, but treat her right and she can be the lavish home you and your loved ones have always dreamed of. It affords a grand view of the harbor and bay on one side, and a marvelous skyline of the beautiful city on the other. Secluded, yet centralized, this estate will offer you the right mixture of privacy, mystery, and prime location. If you'll allow me, my lord. I will happily show you around the grounds." Without waiting for a reply, the man launched into another tirade, gesturing towards the stables. "Over here we have, a bit of a fixer upper, but with a little time and small investment this can be one of the most high functioning stables in the city" Zeratul was about to interrupt and ask him what a high functioning stable was, but the old man was already rushing towards the main housing spouting out about how with some more time and another small investment the kitchens would rival even the duke's own kitchens. Zeratul hadn't followed the man, instead was wandering around grounds himself, he found himself on a balcony overlooking the bay and just stared out at the water. He stood there for a long time, holding a small locket that was linked to a chain he wore around his neck. He griped that locket tight and said to himself 'One day, I will find you.'

"You're in luck my lord, I am right here!" The wiry old man said loudly from behind Zeratul, and immediately began coughing. The man had surprised Zeratul and in his reactions, he spun and drew a blade extending his arm, and holding the blade inches from the man's throat.

The action was so sudden the man let out a little squeal and then continued to cough while trying to avoid impaling himself on the sword. Fury rose in Zeratul's green eyes, until he realized who was in front of his blade, he lowered the weapon and said "Forgive me. I will take the estate. Go into the city center and purchase all we need to fix this place up. Bring me the bill."

Again the coughing subsided abruptly and the man said "Wonderful! I will see to it at once!"

Autumn Evening -- Giask

Aldrakar Renodin

A New Estate

Standing atop the grey stone walls that made up the outer enclosure Aldrakar looked out over the Euschean to the south. Gulls squawked and swooped down low as fishermen pulled up their small vessel in the humble docks below the fortress. A gravely beach existed there and it was ideally suited as a supply point hence the activity. As the locals hauled their catch off the boats the gulls left no opportunity unexplored. Bold and brazen in their attempts to snatch even the smallest of fishes that got exposed in the process.

"Your Imperial Highness." The words were steady and delivered with unusual confidence. Aldrakar turned to the source and saw Berhart. Short and primly kept hair. Sable originally but now well streaked with lines of silver. Leather rather than skin covered his face and if dressed in armor, the man wouldn't stand out at all among a group of grizzled warriors. The senior servant waited patiently on the order he knew was coming. "Seek out Karibash and inform him that the Coastal Fotress will be his estate. More suited to his tastes." Berhart bowed. "And tell him that I'll be waiting for him." With that Aldrakar turned away again. "Your will." Berhart intoned as he placed a fist on his heart and was off to find the old King Karibash. Following the trusted servant was a group of Imperial guards to add weight to his presence.

Karibash

It is not long after the apparent mix-up that Imperial banners appear. Trotting in smart formation are guards bearing the arms of Luria Nova and at the head is an old war dog, exquisitely dressed but nonetheless a war dog. It is a cacophony of activity, the normal bustle of the streets and the now halted procession of warriors and their belongings. Karibash, perched atop his horse, peers at the banners, cuttingly observing the men, their armour, and their countenance. One of his retainers speaks, "Hail and well met. This is the retinue and court of my king, Karibash of Everguard, Warborn Tórrarin of the Sagas himself."

Berhart curiously studies the foreign warrior. He bows slightly and speaks in a measured voice devoid of pompousness, "His Imperial Highness wishes to inform your lord that the Coastal Fortress will be more to his liking. He also awaits your oaths and your meeting."

Karibash murmurs to the same retainer in a gravelly tongue, who then speaks, "the King Everguard trusts the lodgings will be sufficient and will send word after his people have settled. May you show us the way to the estate?" Karibash nods to Berhart, now eyeing him. The Old Toren is a curious sight to the uninitiated, wrinkled and scarred, slouching, eyes wide, mumbling to himself. Berhart notices the gambeson beneath the tunic, powerful hands reigning a draught horse, the sword on his waist, the dagger in each boot, and the eyes darting back and forth as the Old Toren pictures solo battle against the guards. Bringing his fist to his chest, Berhart bows and assumes lead of the procession. He does not pass close to Karibash, fierce Toren march at his side, but he does hear some of the mumbling "...the hand cannon but that's cheating..."

Aylwin Gottfried

It was a gentle rainy day when Aylwin and his personal guard and commander Bianca trotted on her horse beside him.

They were on their way to attend the tournament in Morek. Aylwin was well prepared and confident that he can win the championship and bring his people and his Emperor glory.

On this way to the tournament, Aylwin was stopping to rest in major towns, so that he has access to news. He was occasionally receiving a raven with news from his homeland.

As he read the recent report he was distraught:

“Can you believe this Bianca, John Dodger just issued a hidden threat the Empire! Him and his Khalkar accomplices will fight against a bloated Empire should they pose a threat to other realms! I may well believe he directly referred to our Great Lurian Empire.”

“My Lord” answered Bianca, “I doubt there is any power on Dwilight that has the power to topple us, not to mention a small order of knights. Nevertheless, it is worrying that these news reached the ears of our nobles, and while I trust most of them with my life, we need to be vigilant for potential traitors given the noble influx from other realms.”

Aylwin was quiet for a while, digesting the news. He asked a scribe to write a letter and send it to the members of the Great Halls. I am always at the tournament grounds, I will fight with honor and then return to Luria to be by the side of my Emperor. The empire needs to be represented during tournaments just as much as everywhere else.

He dozed off by the crackling fire while thinking about his newfound joy in duty to his realm.

Zeratul Blint

Zeratul read the decree about a noble named Dodger, he puffed on a pipe as he read the decree. "Odd name for a family.. Dodger.. sounds like a spineless bunch." He muttered to himself. He finally got to the end of the decree where there was a standing order to burn and destroy any holdings or associations of the family.

"Gerric!" Zeratul called. An short but sturdy looking man appeared, he wore an eye patch of his right eye and didn't speak much. "Go into the city, and find if this Dodger fellow has any holdings in the city. I'm in the mood to destroy something."

Gerric nodded and vanished.

Emyhr le Craint

With the bright moon shining down upon the camp grounds, piercing the dark night was a small but burning brightly fire with a boar roasting on a spit. The smell filled the air and attracted many a hungry hunter, of course all were welcome, but Emyhr stood by turning the spit waiting for the right moment to feed his fellow hunters the prize which he caught.

With a final turn of the spit, Emyhr turned to his fell patrons, "Come one come all and feast upon today's hunt". Emyhr thrust a large cooking knife into the carcass and started to cut up portions for all those around. The eyes of the patiently waiting men lit up upon this statement and proceeding to move closer to the young knight.

Following shortly was the sound of corks popping as Cerdic brought over a bottle of wine from Emyhr's estate, one of many bottles discovered when cleaning the many rooms and basement of Bloodmoon Manor. The first glass, however, along with the first and finest portion of the roasted boar would go to Emperor Aldrakar Renodin;

"My Emperor, this being our first official meeting, as customary with my family I bring you the finest bottle of wine from my manor along with the finest portion of meat from the first beast of the hunt to which you kindly invited me on. I hope it is to your liking."

Emyhr looked upon the Emperor with anticipation, hoping that the gifts are to his tastes, but also with excitement. As with his father, he had waited long for this day. Cerdic was standing behind the young knight, his aged and weary face bearing a gentle smile, he had seen this view now for both Emyhr's father and now his son, feeling pride that he could fulfill his duty to house Le Craint.

With this, the scene for this evenings festivities and celebrations were established, the merriment continued until the early hours of the morning. For the hunt would continue, Emyhr looking forward to the potential of the new day.

Zeratul Blint

Gerric materialized from the depths of the estate that Zeratul now occupied. Zeratul had to stop himself from jumping, he was always a little put off around Gerric, but he found the many to be incredibly loyal. Gerric simply stood there, in sight of Zeratul and waited to be acknowledged.

Zeratul looked at him, his emerald green eyes trying to read the man to no avail. "Speak." He commanded. Gerric bowed his head and said 'I have located some apartments belonging to the Lord Dodger. They appear to haven't been stayed in recently, if at all."

Zeratul nodded and drew his hood about his head and headed for the door. "Don't refer to him as a Lord anymore, Gerric, you're liable to get my killed." With no emotion in his voice Gerric responded with "I would be the utmost devastated if you were to die by my actions or words, sire." Zeratul had Gerric lead him to the apartments. They were secluded from the city, well kept, but as Gerric reported, appeared either abandoned or never having been occupied.

Zeratul started to spur his horse forward and said "No witnesses, no quarter shown." Gerric nodded and pulled out a bladed hammer. The two men rode into the courtyard and Zeratul hopped off his horse, a servant hurried out to greet them. Upon seeing that Zeratul was not her master her demeanor changed from cheery to guarded. Zeratul paid her little attention, his eyes darted around the courtyard and onto the face of the apartments.

He then adopted his most authoritative voice and said 'Gather every last servant and house keeper in the main hall. This is a city mandated inspection of the premises. Any who do not comply will be arrested and face the risk of deportation." The servant immediately wilted, and scurried into the apartments to do as she had been commanded. Zeratul muttered under his breath to Gerric "Quick and efficient, they shouldn't suffer because of their master, but they are still loyal to him." Gerric nodded, silent.

Zeratul entered the building and questioned the people gathered before him. Unfortunately for them, they had chosen a room with 1 door and no windows. "Who do you all serve above anyone else?" Silence.

After a while someone was brave enough to step forward, assuming that this must be a test from their master, he said "The Lord Dodger." Zeratul nodded and said "I thought so. Gerric. The door." Gerric stood in front of the door, his bladed hammer ready.

The servants fell back as they began to realize what was happening. A few minutes later, the floor was slick with blood and the screaming had stopped. Zeratul was breathing heavily, and blood had spattered his face. He looked around, there were quite a few bodies laying on the floor. He wiped his sword on the shirt of one of them, cleaning the blood from the blade. He and Gerric left the main hall, barring the door for good measure as they left. They searched the rest of the building and found nothing. They went to the stables and hauled several bales of hay into the building and dispersed them about the apartment, dousing them in oil they found. They lit the bales on fire and left the building, by the time they had reached their horses, smoke was pouring out of the windows of the apartments.

Zeratul and Gerric rode away, not speaking until the reached Zeratul's estate. Zeratul said "Speak nothing of this to anybody. Ever." Gerric nodded silently and took their horses into the stables.

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas sat in his comfortable study, pouring over several sheets of parchment. A warm, Autumn rain pattered against the window, to give a relaxing thrum in the periphery. He yawned wearily, finalising his inspection and returned the quill to its pot.

"Meredith, make sure to spread this missive to the local functionaries; Jonn Dodger is to be stricken from any official documents of the Lurian aristocracy. He is no longer welcome in the realm."

The woman, strict and severe in her bearing, nodded crisply and exited through the doorway. The Magistrate sat back, reclining against the comfort of his office-chair with relief. It was a busy time with so many letters and so many decrees to announce. The joys of bureaucracy, he sighed.

Sofia Nistalia

Sofia readed the letters that flooded her tent by the morning, her face hidden behind her helmet didn't allow captain Adric to read her superior very well. The viscountess' eyes bloodshot after reading the first few already. She readed the emperor's letters as her anger boiled over its limit.

"BRING ME A QUILL AND LETTERS TO FILL!" she yelled, her men rushing through the cart almost immediatly rushring through the supplies in the search of the small bundle of letters, a quill and ink. After two minutes, delivering it to their liege, as she wrote on the makeshift table to vent her anger.

Aldrakar Renodin

The Emeperor, the King and a Fort above the Waves

Karibash murmurs to the same retainer in a gravelly tongue, who then speaks, "the King Everguard trusts the lodgings will be sufficient and will send word after his people have settled. May you show us the way to the estate?" Bringing his fist to his chest, Berhart bows and assumes lead of the procession.

~Karibash

Winding through the streets of the Silver City the procession passes great basins filled with pristine drinking water which are continuously fed by an array of both practical and beautified aqueducts. Akin to the legs of stony giants, buildings are cast in their snaking shadows. Children grateful for the cool they provide in both shelter from the warm summer sun and the liquid they provide absent cost. Grey slate covers streets worth of roofs yet the iconic marble veined silver is seen on all the grand buildings the ancient capital is rich in. The common people look at the foreign Lord and his impressive retinue. Not only because of the amount of very capable warriors but also because of the trappings of a moving court that it displays. "I've never seen that banner before, is that even Lurian?" Says a butcher to the miller. While the two shrug music greets them as Berhart leads the group past an open air amphitheater. Preforming before a cheerful crowd is a troupe of locally famous musicians. The strings of their lutes and harps mixing harmoniously with the notes springing from the flute-players and the mouths of singers.

Leaving the more crowded districts behind them the procession nears the coastal area's of Askileon. Picturesque landscapes appear before them. Stretching well out into the Euschean sea. The water a brilliant cerulean dotted with a myriad of ships big and small. Some of the smaller vessels being brightly colored and its crews, mere ants from this distance, seen casting nets into the ocean. It is then that their destination become apparent. A great, double walled fortress juts out from a magnificently large outcropping of rock. Its spires seamlessly worked into the natural formations and its walls daunting to behold as if the great arms of a feline predator protecting its cubs at rest. Fluttering in the wind are banners of House Renodin. The rich oaken background laced with ample gold-thread as the Lion of Renodin is displayed with their weaving.

The approach is particularly narrow and beset with huge boulders that line the path to the main gate. Atop of which a pair of trumpeters stand ready to announce the privileged guest of the Emperor. Beyond, in the main courtyard, Aldrakar awaits Karibash. Flanked by his Imperial Guards and a cadre of his own Rendorian Elites.

While Berhart tries to keep his eyes front he chances a glance backwards to spy out the Monarch of Everguard. A vain attempt to sate his own curiosity.

So the Emperor and the King seem destined to meet.

13th April

Autumn Day -- Giask

Dorian Pavus

Leaving Ciarin Tut, Dorian is last seen heading towards Askileon. It would appear some business caused him to change his mind on the foreign tournament.

Autumn Evening -- Giask

Karibash ka Habb

As the procession meets the open gates, it stretches the whole length of the pass and still into the streets. The fortress is quite secure, Karibash studies the walls and the spires sprouting from the natural cliffs remind him, scarcely, of the Shrine of Seeklander and his home in sunken Toren. The narrow pass is cliff on both sides, one topped with a wall and the city beyond, the other to the Euschean Sea, cerulean and brilliant.

Orders crack as only the appropriate men are beckoned forward to join Karibash in the meeting: section leaders and advisors, trusted warriors of old lineages, and burly young men. Other retainers bring children back, urging to remain silent between the first official meeting of Suzerain and vassal. His shield is handed over and strapped to his back, the battered and ancient crown of Everguard placed on his head, a quick comb of his beard, Karibash draws out his pendant to Tor from beneath his tunic.

The courtyard is ornate in a Lurian style, fine marble and statues, beautiful terraces overlooking the cobbled stones. Karibash sees the Lurias of old, kingdoms squabbling and fighting, betrayal between duchies and lords and houses. The statues strategically block doorways, the terraces provide high ground and cover for archers, the roof tops are angled, but still walkable. The Old Toren smirks. Trumpeters sound, a voice calls out powerfully, "Karibash of Everguard", unheard one trumpeter asks another "where and what is Everguard?" The procession files in slowly, warriors on foot have hastily put on enough armour for a fight, the actual mounted guards come up behind them and Karibash behind them with his advisors.

So they meet, Toren Warriors with swords and spears and axes and clubs, some on foot and some mounted, standing in front their king, facing Imperial guards and Rendorian Elites headed by the Emperor himself. The voice of Karibash snaps like a whip and his men break aside so he may proceed forward, his horse is massive but does not appear very fast: it saunters forward slowly. The men gathered feel tension build. The Crown of Everguard, a rather modest circlet, gleams in the sun, adorned with shimmering emeralds. Karibash is dark, his eyes grey from age, a grim expression. He pauses in front of the assembly a moment before speaking, strong but low, not deep not high, like the aching of granite. "I, Karibash, King of Everguard, Duke of the Dark Mountains, Marquis of the Shrine of Seeklander and Aquitain, Thane of the Dark Shrine, Shieldarm, Builder and Destroyer of the walls of Valkyrja, Scourge of Saxons, Thousandslayer, sung by my countrymen as Warborn Tórrarin, seek an audience with his Most August Imperial Highness the Suzerain Emperor of Luria Nova to swear an oath." He pauses a moment for posterity before dismounting his horse. Servants have brought forward a small wooden stool and a rather heavy looking stone. Karibash gestures to the stool, sitting on the rock. Aldrakar is unperturbed by the seemingly bizarre situation though his men buzz with confusion. He dismounts with regal flair and dignity and sits on the stool.

They sit in silence a moment, Karibash eyeing Aldrakar and Aldrakar not breaking eye-contact. Karibash takes off his crown and clears his throat, holding the pendant to Tor aloft. "I swear to you as a man, devoid of title and rank, under the gods as another man, my oath of fealty to you, Aldrakar, without regard to your title or rank, that I shall serve you and you alone. With your protections come my protections, with your grace comes my wrath, I pledge the service of myself and those sworn men under me to fight in your name, Aldrakar, to police your lands, to exact your will. In return you offer me the protections due a vassal from Suzerain and the support to exact your will. So I swear, Karibash, to you, Aldrakar." Aldrakar waits a moment and nods. Karibash smiles, "So, shall we sign this in blood!?" He reaches for his sword but pauses: the Imperial guards and Rendorian elite have begun to reach to their arms, looking at the Toren warriors. Karibash blinks, looks up to the archers who have now appeared on the rooftops, and rests his hand. "It appears you have already spilt my blood. So the oath is signed." Aldrakar has not budged nor blinked, eye contact unbroken.

Karibash reaches out his hand to Aldrakar in a Roman handshake. "My Lord, if you will afford an opportunity for the King of Everguard to make a sacrifice in your name and feast with us, I would be honoured."

Dorian Pavus

Dorian's visit to Askileon is over almost as soon as it began, seen in the mail office, before his return to Ciarin Tut. This time he comes back with his hunting students from Giask, as well as his full unit. They together return to Ciarin Tut, visiting the old temples. Since then, Dorian has not been seen. There are rumours, however, of him sending some men out to the Sallowcape Drift.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

The House Half the Way

"They would kill me if they found out I was travelling north and didn't pay a visit" - thought Myr as he strode towards the manor, his lame horse hobbling at his side. "Midway House" they called it - a dark-oaken abode at the top of ten feet tall flight of rocky steps. The house looked somewhat like a crossbreed of a noble's manor and a fortress as it hugged the rocky cliff-side of a hill in the most imposing way. Myr vaguely remembered construction of it - he was but a child back then and seeing enormous blocks of wood hauled by mules he always wondered how did aunt Maya got the gold for it. It was well before his family had their noble claim recognized and the Midway House was the first time the nomad tribe of Desert of Silhouettes had a place they could call home. It was located less than a half day ride from the desert and on the most windy days one could smell the sand sizzling in the sun. The story Myr was always told growing up was that they called it "the Midway House" because it was neither nomad camp nor their true home, but something halfway between the two. But it truly earned it's name because aunt Maya couldn't find out if the hill officialy belonged to Desert of Sillhouettes, Axewild or the Divide Mountains, in effect not paying taxes to any region's liege.

With intimidating, high-pitched shout the sombre house opened it's oaken mouth and like from a dark shell of a clam shines the purest sight of a pearl - in the small space between the gloomy door appeared the fairest maiden, dressed in whites and blues, a pleasant voice sung the greeting in the most melodic accent of the nomads, conjoining the words:

"Myr'you'dim wit! My birthday'isn't for'another fortnight!" - the girl smiled, barely being able to reach his chin with her fist in a friendly poke.

"Ay'Alya, you'speak now like'a'proper lady, will'you?" - Myr half-scolded her in a tone far from serious and they both switched to a more common, Lurian accent. Myr noticed that while he himself still could be recognized as a man of the Desert by someone with a keen enough ear, Alya was able to speak equally well in both accents, switching fluently from one to the other on a whim.

She called to already present in the doorway middle-aged woman - "Aunt Maya! Come see who came to visit!"

"But your birthday is not for another..." - the woman stopped mid-sentence when she noticed a troubled look on her nephew's face.

Myr turned to look at Alya, he grabbed her shoulders and looked her up and down. She was a beautiful girl - she stood a bit above five feet tall, her lean frame betrayed that she wasn't used to physical labour. Her skin was pale and cheeks were rosy, her golden single braid was almost reaching her waist. Her thin lips contorted in a teasing smirk started to straighten and her blue eyes started to lose their sparkle when she noticed Myr's serious expression.

"Alya, in two weeks you will see your twelfth summer, back on the Desert you would be considered adult." - to this Maya thought that Myr himself was taken from the Desert when he was six but chosen against pointing it out and allowed him to continue - "I heard you learn very well, you read and write better than a scribe and ride like a wind, but to prepare for life you must not only learn, you must also experience..."

To this Alya said in immediate realisation: "You're not coming?"

Myr just shook his head and after a couple seconds replied - "I've got a tournament." - and after a while added - "It will be good for y..."

But before he could finish the sentence she stormed off saying behind her in unnaturally calm voice: "It's fine, I wasn't inviting you anyway!"

"Nicely done teak-sprout. Nicely done." - mumbled aunt Maya shaking her head.

"What was I supposed to say?" - Myr protested.

"How about: 'I won't be able to come to your birthday, I'm sorry.' - she has plenty of tutors, she needs a cousin."

"But I'm not her cousin, technically. I'm only her kinsman, collateral descendence, right? What I am is a knight! And a knight leads by example! Sentiments are of no use! Hard work and..." - Maya didn't let her nephew finish, instead saying:

"A knight in a rusty armor and on a lame horse. Shake this pretense off you teak-sprout!" - and calming herself down she continued - "She's smart enough to see through it. She has enough of old people to teach her everything she needs to know, but she has no friends close her age here in in Midway House. You're letting her down by playing a mighty knight each time you visit." - to this words Myr lost most of his facade but appeared still on the fence of wether he should go and appologise, prompting Maya add - "And by extension, you will be letting down someone else teak-sprout."

If the knight's hair weren't always standing on end, they would now, after hearing the last sentence. Young Myr exhaled through his nostrils so hard it could be heard meters away, he conjured up an ocarina from the side of his waist-pouch and in heavy steps he followed the girl into the oaken manor.

Aldrakar Renodin

The Oath of Fealty

They sit in silence a moment, Karibash eyeing Aldrakar and Aldrakar not breaking eye-contact. Karibash takes off his crown and clears his throat, holding the pendant to Tor aloft. "I swear to you as a man, devoid of title and rank, under the gods as another man, my oath of fealty to you, Aldrakar, without regard to your title or rank, that I shall serve you and you alone. With your protections come my protections, with your grace comes my wrath, I pledge the service of myself and those sworn men under me to fight in your name, Aldrakar, to police your lands, to exact your will. In return you offer me the protections due a vassal from Suzerain and the support to exact your will. So I swear, Karibash, to you, Aldrakar." Aldrakar waits a moment and nods. Karibash smiles, "So, shall we sign this in blood!?" He reaches for his sword but pauses: the Imperial guards and Rendorian elite have begun to reach to their arms, looking at the Toren warriors. Karibash blinks, looks up to the archers who have now appeared on the rooftops, and rests his hand. "It appears you have already spilt my blood. So the oath is signed." Aldrakar has not budged nor blinked, eye contact unbroken.

Karibash reaches out his hand to Aldrakar in a Roman handshake. "My Lord, if you will afford an opportunity for the King of Everguard to make a sacrifice in your name and feast with us, I would be honoured."

~Karibash Ka Habb

Clasping the old warrior's arm with his own Aldrakar squeezed it gently. Eyes shining full of contentment. Taking a slow and deliberate breath these words spilled from his mouth. "And to your Oath I shall hold you. Until such a time that I release you from it or death does claim you. I will provide you with an upkeep suitable to your service rendered onto me. Providing enough so that you may command a company of good and loyal men in my name and do battle for the pleasure of the Realm and its Sovereign master, The Emperor." Fingers held their grip on Karibash's arm.

"I swear to do right by you as long as your Oath is strong and shelter you in my homes, provide you cloth to garb your body in and see to the nourishment that grands you life. Justice shall be mine to give and my hand to shield you from the evil of others. This is my sacred vow onto you as Liege and I accept your Oath." Aldrakar inclined his head. "King Karibash, you do me proud and make swell my heart with hope as the future just turned to a stark Gold against the black night sky."

With that Aldakar let go and rose to his feet. His eyes first looking at Karibash and then turned to behold the men that Karibash had brought with him. Extending a hand it was soon filled with a simple dagger. Functional and unadorned. In full view of all gathered Aldrakar made a small cut in the palm of his right hand after which he handed the blade to the old King whom promptly followed suit. As the two men seemed to understand one another, bloodied hands clasped as warriors absent words. Understanding flowed from one to the other and from their combined well, it extended to all those gathered.

"This man is mine now. You, are all mine now." The Emperor's words intoned before his eyes returned to Karibash. "Stand a brother and let the world know of this union." A moment later as injured hands were being bound with cloth. "Bring wine and food! There is much to celebrate." And so it was. A veritable feast emerged from the kitchens of the Coastal fortress and was placed before all the men and women gathered in the courtyard. Tables carried out by servants and Toren born and Renodian Elites mingled. At times with difficulty over language and custom but as their Lords had joined, so too, should they. Aldrakar offered respect and recognition to Karibash as they sat close and shared wine with the man. They broke words of the past and shared tales of a glorious future that they would forge together.

If there was any doubt as to the purpose of their meeting, it would be abundantly clear to all that lived near the fortress. Singing, cheering and all the other rowdy sounds of feasting could be heard until late into the night until the sun forced their eyes to open once again. Far too soon for some and to others it meant they had to realize that they had not yet slept quite at all.

14th April

Autumn Morning -- Askileon

Dorian Pavus

Dorian leans on the fence of the starboard side of the ship, looking down at the water of the Sallowscape Drift.

"Earl Dorian," asked Franz, Dorian's first captain since his active service in Askileon. "It will take quite some time to reach the west."We'll reach the Ravielan Sea in just over a day."

"Good. Franz, I am glad to have you here. There is no other way I'd want things. You, Hadwin, some of the warrior-monks, me. We will pathe the way for Luria to retake the West from the undead. But I'll remind you now. When.. it happens. return and finish the task I had set for you. We land is Paisly. I hear it was once the gem of D'Haran civilisation, surviving poverty and other woes. It is only right we clear the way for Luria."

"Yes. I will do everything you demand, Earl Dorian."

"You don't need to call me by my titles, Franz. I am glad that, for at least these days ahead, we can be... us. Together." he reaches for Franz's hand. as he sees Hadwin come around the corner, returning his hands to his side. "Captain," Dorian asserts.

"Dorian. I can't help but feel you're mad doing this. But I can't help but give you the utmost respect." Hadwin responds.

"Perhaps," Dorian says. "Perhaps it is true. What I am doing is mad. Perhaps it is also brave. But what it isn't is insane. I am not repeating the past expecting anything different. We all know what lies ahead."

The Earl returns his gaze to the sea, a smile on his face. It was all part of the plan.

William Fitz Roberts

William has Doubts

William strode through the ruined village, coughing a little from the smoke as he stepped over yet another corpse. He watched as another villager was dragged to the cross, having been declared a witch by Anne. William always followed her judgements on these matters: she had never once been wrong. He paused to listen to the screams of the man as the cross was raised and the laughter of his soldiers at the man's misery.

As he came across what might have been an old school house, he saw several smaller bodies. He turned one over with his foot purely out of morbid interest and was hit with something that he had never felt before: guilt at what he had done. For the child looked much like his own daughters. He fell to his knees, deep down realising something he had long refused to acknowledge, tears streaming down his face, his breathing becoming rapid. As he hugged the small body to himself he muttered "this has to stop".

No more would those under his command loot and pillage. No more would the name Fitz Roberts be forever associated with the title Reaver. His soldiers would be famed for their disciplined brutality on the battlefield only, not their wanton destruction and atrocities committed out of it. Such acts could be left to his cousins. Witches were of course the exception to this new found mercy, but that went without saying.

He stood up, clearing the tears from his face: "I swear on the Divine name of our Emperor that henceforth when I kill it shall only be in the service of our beloved Luria, not for monetary gain nor for sheer enjoyment". He looked over to the group of prisoners slowly being gathered, all of them whimpering. "Ah well", he thought, "Needs must, there can be no witnesses to this day".

As he walked leisurely over, his poleaxe swinging idly at his side, one of the male peasants attempted to stand, speaking rapidly,

"Please, m'lord, my wife is with child, have mercy upon us". The man cried out as he was struck in the side with a mailed fist by Anne.

"How dare you speak to my husband. You speak only to me until the interrogation is done." Anne shook with fury and William noticed the familiar blood lust in her emerald green eyes, "In fact, you just lost the right to defend yourself, the guilt of you and your family is henceforth assumed". She laughed almost manically as she knocked the man to the ground and, with frenzied motions, removed the man's tongue

William nodded his approval, before picking Anne up in a long embrace, tasting someone else's blood as he kissed her. Turning to his officers, William spoke while still holding Anne, ignoring the moans of the man at their feet.

"How many more are witches?"

"Just this one, lord", said Captain Godlinda, indicating an old woman

"You're sure?"

"There can be no doubt. She has the mark and the others confessed to her being the ringleader of their sick little coven. The Lady Anne was very thorough"

"Excellent, nail her up with the rest"

The woman cried out as she was dragged away, a scream mixed with both anguish and fear.

"Wait", William raised a hand, "Have her crucified upside down, make her experience humiliation in death".

As she was dragged away, her protests unending, William turned back to the line of prisoners. Two men, three women and seven children, The rest had either been killed in the small skirmish, ridden down as they tried to flee or were suffering a lingering death on the cross.

"What shall we do with these, husband?" Anne looked up to him longingly, licking her lips with excitement

"There can be no witnesses, beloved"

Anne laughed for the sheer joy of it and took up her blood-soaked knife once more

"Ah well", William muttered to himself, "needs must", and he brought his poleaxe around and down onto the first of the children's heads.

Matthew Coffey

Matthew reclined on the roof of an open-topped garden, lazily casting his gaze over the sun baked port city that was Fissoa. Even as winter drew near, the lands to the south of Luria enjoyed such moderate climes. His journey here had been relatively uneventful. There had been a few skirmishes between the militia and roaming monsters in the countryside, engagements he had avoided mostly due to having only a small band of retainers. Camping out on the side of the road most nights seemed a little beneath the Lurian king, but he did not mind. It reminded him of his early campaigning for the Empire, something he both missed and loathed in equal measure. What's more, he didn't have to engage with the peasantry of this foreign land, which was much to his liking. Nevertheless, he did not tire of the finer things in life, and wine bore by barely clad servants suited him just fine.

As he wiled the early hours of the day by, the rotund lord found himself penning a quick letter to the nobility currently presiding in the city. His first answer to the Hegemony had been politely declined, but, as the Fissoan king considered his second attempt at flattery, he would see what the lesser nobles thought of the idea.

To the esteemed nobility of Fissoa,

As many of you have likely been informed by your gracious King, Kostaja Kosunen, my presence in your country bodes with it the future of southern Dwilight. My aims you should know of, the union between the kingdom of Fissoa and the Luria Novan Hegemony. On this basis I act as diplomat, for it is my hope that such can be achieved through peaceful means and that another storied nation might find itself reaching to greater heights. Many of you must have heard of Luria's recent resurgence. We wish to extend this to you, and Madina.

If any of you are willing, I am currently residing in a delightful yet curiously named establishment, "the Wrong Throne". The drinks are flowing fast and the company is truly warming. Perhaps I might entertain some of you with my presence before any official engagement? Please, if you know any of the other Highborn are near the city, let them know of my intent. I am yet to be graced with the contacts of all of your people.

In truth and glory,

Satisfied with the letter, he waved one of the servants he had brought with him off to have it copied and sent to each of the nobles residing in the city presently. With any luck, he might find himself joined for some mutual merrymaking before the real political battles began.

15th April

Autumn Evening -- Askileon

Kelindun Orobar

The journey from Port Nebel to Giask went by in a dark, uncomfortable blur. Constant thunder and lightning making you shiver, the sky a sad shade of grey, like ashes, making sunlight feel like a distant memory. The sea was wild and impetuous. It could all have been inside Kelindun's mind though. Since he boarded the ferry, he was alone with his thoughts, his only company the warriors who had all experienced the same horrors he did. As days went by, the gruesome images from his time in Port Raviel haunted him more and more, until he could not tell the difference between day and night anymore. He felt how they made him change, as if he was an embittered old man with no purpose to live, although he was only 20 years old. Kelindun feared he would have to relive these moments as long as he walked the earth.

As he was standing at the frontside of the ship, staring at the endless sea, he could hear people talking behind him. He did not understand the words, as he was lost in an other flashback.

"...The intense fighting at the walls of Port Raviel came to an abrupt end. Confused, Kelindun looked around to find the cause. He could see the fear in the eyes of his comrades, while loud, ghastly cheers came from the ranks of monsters and undead. Did the enemy break through the defences some place he could not see from here? Quickly he ran to the wall to have a look, only to be shocked by the scene beneath him. Apparently, the beasts managed to pull a defender from the walls, alive, dragging him away deep inside their own ranks, where arrows could not harm them. The rest followed, retreating from the attack. Many foul creatures were beating and kicking the poor man, until an enormous one came around, pushed the rest aside, grabbed the men's head and tore it from his body, as easily as if his was picking apples. The worst was yet to come though. The alpha monster removed the eyes from their sockets, ate them, then proceeded to abuse every orifice in the skull. When he finished, he tossed aside the head. Countless others followed his lead, while some raped the decapitated corpse. When they all were satisfied, several hours later, they built a fire, getting ready to eat the human flesh, marinated in their own seme..."

"Land ahead," shouted the captain, interrupting Kelindun's thoughts. The troubled man looked up as a breathtaking sight unfolded before him. A majestic City, with impressive walls and incredible landmarks lay before them. More importantly, it was as if the scene pushed away the darkness inside his head. A beacon of Light, Kelindun saw it as a sign of better times to come. One look at his captain was enough. She did not need his words to know what her commander needed. She would prepare letters to notify the local nobility of their arrival, and as soon as they stepped ashore she would find suitable quarters, giving her master everything he needed for a fresh start.

Dorian Pavus

Dorian arrived on the shore with those still loyal to him. They stripped off their leathers and wore their armours and gambeson together once more. The city once belonged to D'Hara, but now to the endless hordes of undead. In time, though, it would belong to the Lurian Hegemony after they carved the way. For how else could man become legend without such a fate as this?

Moving from the dock to the city, the few volunteers with a death wish soon found their wishes came true. And Dorian and his peers had already been injured. But the fight would not be over so soon. Dorian and Franz, on unicorn and steed alike, pushed up into the castle, and through to the throne room - with far too many foes than expected. After perhaps two dozen of the undead were brought down, Franz's mare had been killed, and he was on the ground fighting again once more. But what caught both of them off-guard was a crossbow bolt piercing the unicorn, causing it to fall to the ground, bringing Dorian down with it. He turned to see who had entered the room, and it was some warped and twisted undead, larger than the rest and using magic of old. Side by side, the men rushed in, though as Dorian swung his blade to behead the foul beast, a bolt had pierced his abdomen. The creature collapsed with Dorian as he brought his hand to his bloodied chest. In shock, he just stares at the sword in him blocking off all noise, before he turns to Franz, finishing off the swarm inside. He helps Dorian up, moving him over to the balcony where the two slump down, one after the other.

"Commander," Franz said, exhausted.

"W-We did it," Dorian nods, trying to position himself more comfortably until he finds it only causes more discomfort with the bolt in his gut.

"Yes, we did, Dorian," he smiles as they look to the sunset. "It's quite a view."

"Best seats in the house," Dorian smirked through the pain.

"It feels like years since I've just sat down."

"I think you've earned a rest, Franz. You've served me and my family for as long as you've been grown."

Dorian's head drops forward, as he rapidly blinks, grunting as he pulls himself back up.

"You did good, my love, you did good. I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me for what, Franz? I don't know what I did?"

"This. Everything. Just... us. Since your rise to nobility, I don't know how you've handled me. Can't say I've been easy. It hasn't been perfect, but it has been more than worth it."

"I'm glad you think so, Franz." he smiles, the sunrise now causing the pair to squint. He closes his eyes for the last time.

"Dorian?" Franz says, shaking him gently. There was no response from the Earl. No response from the noble. No response from the harbinger. Eyes still closed, Dorian utters a last sentence with his final breath.

"For... Luria," his breath trails off as man becomes legend. And with him, history would surely follow. In time enough, as the original heroes were far before him, legend would surely become even myths.

Franz lets out a tear, though it is not long until he passes into unconsciousness.

He awakens, his hands covered in congealed blood. In truth, it was far more than just his hands. His sustained injuries, the blood of his kin, the blood of his closest ally. He could not give up here. Not on this day.

He pushes himself from the floor, seeing that midday had come soon enough. Below he saw the boat he had arrived on. He would leave alone, but he would make it. Perhaps it wasn't the best route, but he had to get back. He had unfinished business. For the last time, he turns his glance to the hero Dorian, who was there no longer. Nor was the unicorn's body behind him. Had he truly ascended to some kind of other standing? This was the story Franz had to get out to tell. He had always wanted to be more than a second, but he found comfort on Dorian's shadow. And now he would repay that favour, once and for all.

16th April

Autumn Evening -- Askileon Purlieus

Staedtler la Stylo

The treeline was shaking with wind, the sky was grey with cloud cover, and Staedtler was at a table upon a small dirt cliff, longing to be back indoors. The grasses, rough as cat tongues, were catching at his breeches and leaving paper-cut scars from ankle to groin, nicking the flesh even as he sat still, overseeing the build site and its trenches. A wayward breeze caught his papers aloft and began to curl their corners like wingtips, but the Earl batted them back to the woodwork with the flats of his palms. He crashed back onto his wicker-backed seat and itched at the red flecks, sores, and spots under his chin. The autumn flies and airborne field-pests had been biting since he crossed the old western borderline to babysit Thar Gortauth, in Earl Donald's stead. His friend's absence had apparently brought forth thousands of fluttering blights and wire-thin swarms of hungry, penny-width monsters. Maybe they could just taste the stress on the wind and lusted for its flavour.

The last time Staedtler had been here in these fetid hills was a bad enough experience to warrant no return. Two days is all it was. Two days of pretending to be war-ready at the Emperor's behest and his Queen's instruction whilst roving from alehouse to tavernkeep with words and wit slick with Lurian pride. Two days without sleep. Two days without rest. The moment Staedtler and his men had crossed back onto his own lands, and he was a man renewed.

"It's the air out here," Staedtler said to his scribe as he chewed his quill nib. "It's too heavy. Too thick. Just breathing the stuff ..." He drew a delicate sniff and wafted it under his nose. He turned around to the boyish scribe and the abstract expression of his visible confusion. "It's like filling your chest with saltwater. Pure filth."

Staedtler wretched the taste out into his fist.

"Anyway," he pawed at his eye sockets and pulled out a road map for the seventh time in an hour. "Back to 'Road building.'"

Staedtler bounced his quill upon the table in time with stony hammer strikes. The workers were breaking apart a boulder sitting in the pathway of where the cobblestone road would lead - a neat valley pass between two humble, little hills lying out and beyond the farmlands. Flat earth. Good ground. Hard work. Staedtler could watch it all day. Clink. Clink. Clink.

Staedtler stopped dotting ink onto the map and began to scrawl a little. Timid, little swirls - no more than idle doodles. But his eyes were cast afield, off to the trees, unfocused and caught adrift on the skyline. His empty hand fell limp by his side, and his scratchings became broader. Deeper. The quill dried of ink as the swirls were spiraling ever wider about the hammer-strike dots, like a maelstrom around its eye. Paper tore and split as the quill head bore through the fibres and began to dig into the woodwork below. It was no longer spinning, and Staedtler clutched his implement in a cold, dead fist, driving it inch-deep into the oak, striking aside papers and ink well alike with his forearm.

"Earl Steadtler?" asked the boy, lowering his own writings.

Staedtler was lying limp at his seat, head loose at his shoulders, limbs dropped and empty of strength and structure. The boy thought him dead, struck by an assassin's arrow, but the corpse was still moving, cutting and splintering through the table like he held an axe head, but it was only a peacock feather. It had scarred a chasm into the surface - a trailing, naked and white, meandering vein - a meaningless etch of ill-significance, waving across the planks. The quill hand was twitching now, trailing for the table edge. Grinding. Crunching. Moving for the meat of Staedtler's leg below the precipice, lusting to draw blood.

The workmen had turned to the clifftop now to the boy's wails. The hammer strikes had stopped. The scribe threw away his work and dove for Staedtler's pale, vein-lined hand, pushing back with all his might. The sabretooth quill blade clawed through onto the very last splinters of the edge, all of Staedtler's strength ready to plunge down.

Staedtler snapped into consciousness as the boy took his hand. He spurred in reflex, palming the lad away and down to the grass. He kicked back his chair with a shout - red-faced, sweat-licked, and hoarse for lack of breath, almost as if he had just been in a fight for his life. Staedtler span to the boy with anger, but saw the dread upon his scribe's face, and where his needlepoint eyes were leading. Staedtler calmed, looked to his table, and traced the wound down the mark with his finger. It snaked, and curled, and was knifed in almost through the other side. The lines were undeniable, purposeful even, and carved with impressive strength. The turns and curls drawn into the oak formed shapes. The shapes did form something resembling symbols and glyphs. And if given the greatest of unreasonable leeway with any language known and penned by man and beast alike, both domestic and foreign, ancient and modern, these symbols made letters, and within the coiled letters spelled a word - a single world, punctuated with a peacock feather quill buried inch-deep in the gnarled, weather beaten woodwork.

Staedtler had the table burned out by the coast that evening. It burned along with the road plans, the wicker seat, and the peacock feather quill. The road was diverted far aways to the north, and Staedtler stuck as close to Shinnen Purlieus as he could without seeming home-struck to the commoners. Whatever happened today was nothing to be spoken of. Afterall, he was of Lurian nobility. No such ailments of the mind, body, and soul should trouble such a creed of man. He was surely made of sterner stuff. No simple word, of all things, was to be of concern. Words were his tools. His weapons. Staedtler would wield them as he saw fit. Staedtler would control them.

17th April

Autumn Evening -- Nid Tek

Tordan

The humble rangers went to the encampment of Lord Donald and delivered a huge package strapped to a small, donkey drawn cart. When prodded who send him he said his instructions came from the Palace. A gift from the Emperor.

Kelindun Orobar

Imagine being a young, adolescent man, planning to have a nice evening stroll after a hard day of labour. As you leave town, the sun starts setting, painting the scenery in a spectacular palette of colours. In the distance, you notice some movement, so you get closer to see what's causing it. When just a few steps away from the place you saw earlier, your feet automatically stop moving, as surprised as your eyes by the scene unfolding before you. A young girl, no, a young woman is running through a field filled with flowers, enjoying the sun, enjoying being alive, not a care in the world. Time slows down, making every detail cristal clear. As she frolics past you, your eyes meet, and your hart skipps a beat. Never before have you witnessed such beauty. Clear blue eyes catching the last rays of sunlight. Long wavy hair framing her face, as if some Higher Power painted her Himself. Freckles scattered around her cheeks, giving her an innocent look, while her smile adds a drop of naughtiness. The girlish dress she wears accentuates her femininity, a twinkle in her eyes confirms she's no longer a girl. You feel something you never felt before, and although you do not recognise it, you realise you are lost. No matter where you go or what might happen, this woman will forever own your heart. You would give up anything, including your own life, to make her happy.

Kelindun knew the feeling. Today he felt the same. Walking through the streets of Giask, he fell in love. This great City, with all its overwhelming beauty, seduced him, swept him off his feet, effortlessly. He had to cut their flirt short though, leaving this pearl behind while he had not even explored a quarter of what she had to offer. But a promise was made, he would help the Empire control its far away territory. He would be back soon enough, without a doubt.

Kelindun was exhausted. Somewhere between Cadier and Irvington, he decided to take a rest, so he lay down in a field, planning to take a nap. He ordered his unit to continue towards Irvington, he would follow in a few hours.

As he lay down, looking at the sky, he went over the events of the last few days. Helping the common folk where they could, being present to help them feel secure. Work that took time, but was worth all the effort. He started drifting off to sleep, but a rustle followed by a terrifying howl woke him up instantly. Across the field he spotted a monster, charging, as the creature believed he found an easy target. Calmly, Kelindun took his bow, aimed carefully and fired an arrow, quickly followed by a second one. This happened so fast, the monster was only a few steps away from where Kelindun first saw it. The two arrows found their target, both legs were hit. Astonished by this unexpected turn of events, the beast forgot to scream in pain. It turned his head, looking for the shelter it came from. Realising it was too far away, he looked at the archer, clearly a master with his weapon. The hunger in its eyes changed to fear, hunter became prey.

"That's right," Kelindun said while an other pair of arrows pierced the air looking for flesh, "time to die." This time both shoulders were hit, the monster stumbled and fell to the ground. "But first, let me teach you about pain." Kelindun's experiences made him many things, being cruel was one of them, as this abomination was about to find out.

Isabella Pavus

Isabella disembarks in her leathers. For far too long did she spend and eat with the commoners. She was definitely not going back. She pulled down her hair, scratching her shaved head. At least she wouldn't have to worry about fleas. She walked through the streets of Giask before staring at her reflection in a puddle. Dark skin, blue eyes, a pretty face - she didn't lose it aboard that ship as feared. She had been a sheltered child in her family countryside home, but she was back in Luria - and she was grateful for the weather. She considered proving herself, figuring her reputation must have diminished since her departure. Imagine a general of a realm leaving for her childhood home. Nonetheless, she had her reasons. She doubted anyone would have much care for the 'whys' and just be glad that they had a competent soldier among them. That she would have to prove, time and time again. Not to them, just to her foes.

18th April

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Donald Augustus Allan

It was a fine autumn day in the City of Askileon, the streets were bustling and busy with traders peddling their goods at market stalls, artisans crafting their wares, and city guard enjoying the warmth provided by the autumn sun. Donald steered his horse down the cobbled streets, careful to avoid the amassed people in the expansive market square, and doing his best to find a way through the crowd.

Proceeding onward past the market stalls he turned a sharp corner and he found himself staring at the spires and dome of the great temple, visible over the homes and houses nearby which it easily dwarfed. It was a splendid building, massive in size and ornate in decoration: truly a wondrous site to behold, one would have to travel to Giask to see anything that matched the Temple of Ecclesial Sanguiastroism of Askileon.

But still this was the not object of his journey, but rather a small side street that appeared rather abruptly as one approached the temple. It was long and narrow; away from the noise and clamour of the city, lined with large urban homes for lesser lords and ladies. The fifth house down the street was larger than most with an iron fence lining a small garden and a cobbled pathway to the entrance, where an aged oaken door sat stoic. The building itself was made of timber and dried mudbrick painted red, with a foundation built upon massive limestone blocks their tops poking out from the earth.

Donald dismounted and taking hold of the reigns led the horse through the iron gate and around the side of the house where a small stable lay. Like the house it was aged, and clearly hadn’t been used for some time but he found the bay with the least amount of cobwebs and guided his steed inside. As the door closed behind the horse he removed his leather riding gloves. He placed one hand on the beast’s back, gently brushing his hand across the short brown fur to as to ease the horse.

After lingering for a moment he left the stable and following the cobbles, arriving at the giant oaken door. Donald made a fist and knocked against it three times. Each knock shook the door and the metal hinges, deteriorated in their old age, rattled slightly under each impact.

There was a moment’s pause, and then the door opened and standing there was a short woman wearing simple, homely garments. She opened her mouth to speak, but as she saw Donald she stopped herself and before exclaiming “Donald?”

He grinned “Matilda! Good to see you”

Matilda rushed for an embrace and Donald was tempted to resist, but gave in. She might be a lowly housekeeper but he had known her far too long.

William Fitz Roberts & Titos Drakos

The ring was set, to soldiers of the Houses of Fitz Roberts and Drakos watched on eagerly as their two champions prepared to face off against one another. It had been a good afternoon of sport and drinking, but this was the event all had come to see. For it was their respective lord’s that were preparing to fight, pitting the vassal against his liege. It was sure to be a good evening…

William carefully tied bandages around his hands, causally examining the scars that criss-crossed his knuckles from years of partaking in the sport. He eyed Drakos, going through near identical preparations. He had fought the man many times before; the two cousins had always been good friends and boxing was the favoured past time of both families. They were near equal in skill and strength, so neither could rely on their usual advantage of their sheer bulk in this match

This was the last bout of the day, both men had fought others and won their matches easily. William looked over to spy Anne, drinking with Captain Godlinda as her arm was reset. Despite breaking her arm in her last match, Anne herself had claimed victory over all of her challengers, but had been unable to continue due to the injury she had sustained

Both men at last ready, they both advanced on one another, each searching for an opening as they began to circle one another. As William watched the eyes of Titos, watching to see where the man prepared to strike he noticed there was fresh bruising around his cousins ribs in addition to the scarring that crossed the man’s chest. It was there that William had his opportunity. However, neither man wished to strike first and thus open themselves up to a reactionary strike. Titos was the first to lose patience, jabbing forward with his left fist. William dodged this easily, stepping to one side and bringing his elbow down onto the forearm of Titos, causing him to grunt, before attempting a left hook into Titos’ ear. It was a clumsy blow, which William’s opponent had no trouble ducking from. Each man began to land blows in earnest, William attempting to land blow after powerful blow into the bruising of Titos’ chest. As Titos raised his left arm for a high strike at William’s head William saw his opportunity and went in for a brutal lunge at the bruised and battered muscle, but it was then that he felt an excruciating pain erupting in his left knee. Knocked entirely off balance, William stumbled as Titos began to rain blow after blow onto William’s head and Torso, each punch more brutally powerful than the last. William saw but one chance for victory and bent low, lunging forward to tackle Titos to the ground. William landed on top and began to land blow after blow into the face of his cousin before experiencing searing pain once again as Titos jammed the three fingers of his right hand into the back of William’s knee. William’s scream of fury and pain was all Titos needed to throw William off him. Rolling away deftly, spun like a cat into a crouching position. William, struggling to stand, blinded by the pain coursing up and down his leg, attempted to find Titos’s position. He discovered exactly where his cousin was when the man grabbed his head in both hands and brought his forehead down onto the bridge of William’s nose with a sickening crack. William fell back, coughing up blood. At last he raised his hand in surrender, causing Titos to immediately step back.

William looked up at him, vaguely making out the shape of his cousin through the blood and blinding pain. "You have the better of me today, cuz", he managed to splutter through the blood, "the day is yours"

The Drakos men cheered their master’s victory as Titos helped William to his feet. William, leaning heavily on his cousin being unable to place any weight on his leg, whispered, "I make that 19-17 to me, cousin. We still both might win this season"

"You should have told me you were coming! I would have tidied up" She replied, worry already creeping across her face but otherwise clearly excited "I am happy you’re here"

He stepped out of the doorway in to the hall, pushing the door back into its place "There wasn’t time enough for me to send a messenger. But do tell me, where is my father?"

The short lady’s warm gaze disappeared quickly, and a face of fear and regret replaced it. She straightened her hands by her side and faced the floor, saying "He is in the hall, but…" she looked upwards and looked Donald in the eye "…the physicians say his body is fine, but I’m not so sure. I suppose you’ll make up your own mind on the matter".

He let out an anxious sigh "I need to speak with him, we have much to discuss. I shall find you once I am finished"

She nodded, allowing Donald to excuse himself. It was time to speak with his father.

19th April

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Nicholas Archival

Santoo was proving to be most disconcerting. It had been days since Nicholas' arrival to conduct his regional bureaucratic assessment and he had yet to find a single commoner who would raise their eyes to meet his. This in of itself was not much cause for alarm; the peasantry tended to respect the hierarchy as they had always been taught. But this was... something else. The only instances in which he had caught their gaze showed not deference, but fear. Serving maids skittered about silently, the patter of their feet muted almost entirely imperceptible. The butlers and stewards would scarcely answer his orders - or even his requests - with more than a dull nod, even after he had instructed them to be more vocal. It was though experience had trained them to do otherwise.

It was not unpleasant precisely. A quiet land and a peaceful populace was not an ignoble objective for any lord. But when the repugnant scent of barely repressed terror permeated, it raised Nicholas' guard. Falstor Village felt wrong and - most horrifyingly of all - its administration had been sorely lacking. And so, he had spent the vast majority of his time bringing the local officials up to speed and inspecting their reports. It was dull work - and ought to have been unnecessary - but it was a necessity all the same. It was the task he had given himself in overseeing the many regions of the Hegemony, from the cities to rural outskirts. As a man ever of his word, it would be a grave dishonour to fall back. Besides, boredom had never killed a man - or, not in quite the same way as a monster's claws, nor an undead's notched blade.

That being said, the eerie disquiet was something he would sooner be rid of. No doubt Askileon or Lady Kaguya's Ciarin Tut could use his helping hand. The splendour of the Silver City would be a welcome change to the many country roads and paths at the backside of Luria. Yes, he would leave these dreary lands soon enough, with its swamps and bewildered people and return to civilisation; if he would be so lucky, perhaps Aldrakar would be present. The majesty of the man had always given him a slight thrill of awe. If not, the city would still be a finer spectacle than elsewhere and it would do well to distract him from thoughts of adventure.

20th April

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Emyhr le Craint

End of the Hunt

With the day coming to an end, the merriment of the hunters continued on till the evening. For tonight, the hunt had come to an end and now was time for a joyous celebration. With different groups forming around the camp, a central fire stood out from the rest. Ornamented with varying animals from the previous day of hunting, with attendants looking over the meat making sure it was cooked perfectly.

At the head of the group, sat a man covered in splendor and finery. His aura grabbing the attention the nobles that surrounded him, discussing the success of the hunt with his retinue. Each of the men around the fire were showing signs of fatigue for the past couple days of the hunt had been busy with competition. At once, the figure raised his hand to the group and silence fell over the crowd;

"My fellow hunters and noblemen, this years hunt has been a successful and fortuitous event in a time of relative peace. As is custom during periods such as this, entertainment prospers, and nothing proves more thrilling than the wilds of the hunt."

With this, all the men were looking upon the figure, who could now be recognized as the Emperor himself. No-one dared speak up and interrupt and all sat watching with admiration on their faces. The figure continued to speak to the group;

"However, the hunt must come to and end. This we must allow, for in-order to keep the tradition of hunt, we must allow nature to regrow. This leads on to the competition proposed at the start, many of you reveled in this new thrill and the feast prepared for us tonight is a result of such effort. However, one man stood out in prowess over beast, Emyhr would you step forward".

With this, the young knight stood up, shocked over his name being called out. He headed towards the Emperor, falling to his knees once again when he reached him. Waiting for whatever the Emperor wanted with him, his heart filled with anticipation. Following this was the sound of the clicking of a small lock, as Emyhr looked up towards the figure who had called over his attendant with a small chest.

"As was promised to the hunter who would capture the largest beast, it fills me with hope to provide this to an up and coming young knight of the realm."

The Emperor hands Emyhr the small chest containing the prize money, a large grin fills the face of the young knight and once again bows his head.

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Jeffrey Birkenhead

A huge racket woke up half the camp of the Birkenarrows.

"I am on your side, you buffoons! Let me go, I say! I am Lurian, too!"

Jeffrey walked out of his tent, visibly sleepy and hastily dressed. "What is this commotion?!"

"Lord Birkenhead, we found this man sneaking around nearby! Looked awfully suspicious to us and now he claims to be Lurian. Don't believe a word he says, he probably wanted to sabotage our camp.", one of the men said, with a tone of pride and accomplishment.

"And who would have an interest in that?", Jeffrey answered. "You! You say you are Lurian. Who sent you here and for what reason?"

"Vice Marshal Birkenhead, I am one of Emyhr le Craints scouts! He sent me for, well, scouting!", the captured spouted out in distress.

"Identify yourself. Do you carry anything bearing the sigil of his?"

"Yes, yes, here, my contract!" The man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, a contract with the signature and sigil of the le Craint house.

Jeffrey's hand found its way to his forehead and he let out a sigh. He faced his night guard. "This is legitimate. Get to your duty again, posthaste, and wake up my scribe on the way." After another sigh, Jeffrey put his attention back on the scout. "We have a spare bedroll and some lukewarm leftover stew. Help yourself, and in the morning you will return to Sir Emyhr and bring him a letter." "Honourable Emperor Aldrakar Renodin, you have filled me with great pride and thank you wholeheartedly for the opportunity to join you on such an event"

With this a cheer from a small contingent of warriors erupts from the crowd, recognizable as the retinue of the young knight, followed by a cheer from the gathered men of the hunt.

However, the revelries were cut short as messengers approach the nobles bringing each of them a report. With this, each of the accompanying nobles stood up and looked towards the Emperor, who also received a report. The Emperor turned to the crowd;

"Gather your men and ready yourself for combat, we must urgently prepare ourselves for the forthcoming"

With this, the nobles rushed off to their respective groups and mounted up. As quickly as the messengers arrived, the group departed in different directions as the fires burned out leaving only the smoking remains as evidence for the hunt that had recently occurred.

21st April

Autumn Day -- Poryatown

Emyhr le Craint

The morning sun broke across the fields of Grodno, a peaceful scenery and the furthest south Emyhr has gone. However, this was not time to rest, with undead headed this way. Emyhr had his men ready for any combat and had sent scouts to areas where monsters had been sighted. All but one had returned, which was a cause for alarm amongst the camp. However, with the rising sun a recognizable figure came over the horizon rushing back to camp.

"Sir Emyhr, Sir Emyhr. I have returned and bring news."

The young scout came rushing back to Emyhr with a letter in hand, handing the letter over immediately. With this, Emyhr started to chuckle, now feeling easy that his scout had returned safely to the camp. Emyhr then spoke up to his gathered Vanguard.

"It seems tensions are high with everyone, and a mistake was made. Vice-Marshal Jeffrey Birkenhead's men had captured our young scout here by mistake and the matter has been resolved."

With this, Emyhr placed an arm around the young scout and handed him a drink, smiling at him.

"I am glad you have returned, but this will only be a breif respite as I hear of undead coming from Vaal soon. So prepare your arms men."

A resounding cheer came from the group as they all went to collect their weapons and arm them selves. The scout chugged the drink and returned to his fellow scout to discuss matters.

Autumn Evening -- Poryatown

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

Luria. Home. Sevastian knuckles his grandfather's sword from his hilt and set it upon the table before sinking into a chair. Freshly settles into his estate, he summoned his seneschal.

"Compose a letter to his Imperial Majesty, swearing my allegiance and pledging my services in exchange for this estate. Also, request an appointment so that I may swear my oath personally, at the Emperor's convienance."

Sevastian turned to his reports. So few recognizable names, but what else did he expect. He grinned. The Hegemony. The home his father and grandmother had told him so much about.

22nd April

Autumn Evening -- Poryatown

Chance Harte

High and mighty Highborn, sitting in their seats

Aldrakar and Cador, under the sheets

One wants wealth

Another wants power

They both eat their mum's clam chowder!

23rd April

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Kaguya Fujiwara

To a majority of travelers on foot or oxen-cart, the dirt road that ran between the townslands of Askileon Purlieus and the rural plains of Ciarin Tut was the epitome of mundanity.

Not so for Lady Fujiwara-no-Kaguya.

"Beautiful is it not, Alfreid?"

"Indeed it is, milady," was the impeccably smooth reply, as both Lady and Captain-Butler overlooked the seemingly endless sea of pastureland. In his mind's eye there were a thousand-and-one things that needed to be addressed before he could deem Ciarin Tut an acceptable residence and seat of governance for Kaguya, but Alfreid now knew his liege better than to spoil this moment.

"Did you know, my captain... I never experienced the glories of my family."

She paused briefly to collect her thoughts.

"...Known, perhaps, through the historical annals of great Yamatai in which I was born and from which I came, but it was my lot to be brought into the world after Fujiwara fortunes had declined."

Alfreid only nodded quietly, the polite smile never leaving his lips. This moment was rare and sincere. Kaguya was not wont to be overly emotional in public; his liege believed it unfitting of her station as a noble of two great empires.

Kaguya swept her arm across the vista that lay ahead of them.

"This... This would have been a small trifle in the days of my ancestors." She turned to face him, her eyes shining with suppressed pride. "But for me, it represents a great hope that my family's name will not be lost to the march of time."

Alfreid bowed slightly.

"Milady," he began. "I am confident history will remember y-"

"Milady!"

Another voice from behind. A retainer, with some urgency in his tone and movement.

"Speak, please."

"Monsters have been sighted within the borders of the fief of Ciarin Tut, milady! The report would have it that there are perhaps ten of the beasts!"

Kaguya looked round as her retainers began to fall in line around her.

"Captain Alfreid, what is the disposition of Lurian soldiery within a half day's march from this place?"

"Milady, you presently own the loyalties of two militia formations: the Defenders of Ciarin Tut and the Dread Wasps. Both are accounted 'special forces' in the military jargon of the Empire. Well-equipped professional woodsmen, milady. Very adequate training; accurate shots, if the reports are true."

Not a moment of hesitation. He memorised these details long before we had arrived.

"And your retainers assembled here, of course. Approximately sixty men in total."

The new Countess of Ciarin Tut nodded in appreciation at the nearest retainer.

"Bring me my yumi and my helm."

The man bowed and set off immediately.

"This is my land, by Imperial appointment. Let us meet my two new commands and so prepare ourselves for battle."

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

Sevastian arrived at the Imperial complex, his hand resting idly on the sword at his hip. His dress, his sword... Everything on him was finer than what one from a family of his wealth and standing typically would allow. His retinue followed in toe, and as the guards hailed him, he looked down from his charger.

"I am Sir Sevastian Schwarzherzig, and am here to pledge fealty to his Imperial Majesty." his voice was firm, and the gaze from his green eyes piercing. He had his grandmother's eyes.

"Here is an invitation with the Imperial Seal." he added, handing the letter he had received over to the guard. Sevastian leaned back in his saddle as he waited for the guard to return with a response.

Aldrakar Renodin

An Audience

"Here is an invitation with the Imperial Seal." he added, handing the letter he had received over to the guard. Sevastian leaned back in his saddle as he waited for the guard to return with a response. ~Sevastian

The man peered at it, turned it sideways and back again. Alright. he muttered to himself before turning around and raising his mailed fist. Open the gate! Words akin to a spell as the great doors revealed a large courtyard beyond. Full of statues and designed so that it would be suited for defense as much as it would accommodate glamour. Servants moving up to Sir Sevastian and aiding the man with his mount and effects. Directing and indeed guiding him through the maze of halls and splendor. Until finally, they delivered him to the Imperial Throne room.

Wondrous marble columns veined with purple, orange or silver. The ceiling once in view by arching one's neck to breaking point was intricate beyond belief. Defying sheer science and geometry in its intricacy along with its majestical application of the art of painting. The illusion of depth within its images added to an even greater sense of space and grandiosity. Almost part of the illustrious room were the droves of officials, privileged Nobles and exotic retainers and envoys. Each dressed to their best and filling the spaces in the throne room that permitted their persons to be there.

While the court was not in session, Aldrakar sat upon the lion and eagle inspired throne. He gazed down at the Knight that was carefully left at the doorstep and beckon him, come close.

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

Sevastian approached the throne solemnly, and exactly eight paces away he stopped, and drew his sword. He dropped to one knee, and held the sword out, resting upon his palms. The pommel of his grandfather's blade was fashioned in the shape of a snarling wolf's head.

"I, Sevastian Schwarzherzig, do most solemnly swear that from this moment until my final moment, or until released from my oath, to be faithful to your Imperial Majesty. I will love all that you love, and shun all that you shun. I will be faithful to you in regard to your life, the members of your body, and all that is rightfully yours. I will be faithful to the Hegemony, and the territory which belongs to it within its entire boundaries, on condition that his Imperial Majesty keeps to me as I deserve. Upon my blood, most sacred, I pledge my sword shall be his sword, and my shield guard him against those who would do him harm. His enemies will be mine enemies, and I shall allow no harm come of him, through my own action, or by inaction. I shall keep truthfully in his service, from this day, until the end of days." he intoned solemnly, and as he spoke, he clenched his fist about the blade of his sword, causing a trickle of blood to run down his hand, and onto the floor.

Isabella Pavus

Within her camp on the border of Vaal, Isabella began working on paperwork. Captain Gunnar stood outside with the other Cuirsassiers as they trained, while estate paperwork was building up. This time, household staff.

A middle-aged man named Jasper was made steward - his particular life choices had also made him suited for being Master of the Wardrobe. His brother, Jeeves, was the Chamberlain. Hobson, a large and fat man was appointed in charge of the kitchen, his daughter, Bertha, the head chef. With Franz's return from the west, he has made marshal of the house. For his service to Dorian - and to the wider Pavus family - he had earned it more than any commoner. After sending off the paperwork for said individuals, she had further paperwork for appointing them assistants. At least there were enough people in Askileon to fill the more simple roles.

Distracted, she turned her minds back to the open fields. Long did she long to ride into battle again.

Aldrakar Renodin

Acceptance

"I, Sevastian Schwarzherzig, do most solemnly swear..

Listening to the young man's words Aldrakar looked at those emerald green eyes. Serpentine in quality and rich in intelligence. "And to your Oath I shall hold you. Until such a time that I release you from it or death does claim you. In turn I will provide you with an upkeep suitable to your service rendered onto me. Providing enough so that you may command a company of good and loyal men in my name and do battle for the pleasure of the Realm and our Sovereign master, The Emperor." That last word he let hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

"I swear to do right by you as long as your Oath is strong and shelter you in my homes, provide you cloth to garb your body in and see to the nourishment that grands you life. Justice shall be mine to give and my hand to shield you from the evil of others. This is my sacred vow onto you as Liege and I accept your Oath." For a moment Aldrakar closed his eyes as if completing a spell. When he opened them again he looked directly at Sevastian.

"Sir Sevastian, you do me proud and make swell my heart with hope as the future just turned to a stark Gold against the black night sky." Then he smiled. The gathered nobles and officials brought hands together and applauded the kneeling man. One more added to the ranks of the Highborn and one more able to carry out the legacy that was Luria.

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

Sevastian rose, and sheathed his sword, his eyes locked firmly on the Emperor's. Some might call it bad form, but his ancestors never backed down from anything, and he would honor that spirit.

"My liege, I have but one question to ask of you. Do you believe that a man should be held responsible for the crimes of his fore-bearers?"

Aldrakar Renodin

Blood is Blood

"My liege, I have but one question to ask of you. Do you believe that a man should be held responsible for the crimes of his fore-bearers?" ~Sevastian

The bold stance of the young man before him made Aldrakar squint his eyes and turn his face slightly to the right. Pensive he considered the question. Noting the change in demeanor several Imperial Guards moved closed and stood ready to pounce. "Blood of your blood bears the quality and vices carried therein. It is Noble blood that courses through our veins yet some are Kings where others never rise in station." The youth before him seemed smaller now that he uttered those words.

"Ever man and woman makes his own destiny. It is that most Lurian of qualities. Merit. You achieve, you earn, you display and you will be judged accordingly." He gestured to the Nobles around. "They are not here solely due to their blood or ancestry, they are here because they have merited their place and position. Thus I have reigned and so I shall continue to do so. If you earn my ire, that is entirely true to the words I just used." Aldrakar paused a moment. "A crime committed by the father should not become the burden carried by the son. The inheritance of the father's reputation however, will be a challenge placed around the neck of the son regardless though. It is how the son deals with his given fate that distinguishes him." Again Aldrakar offered a smile.

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

Sevastian's expression lightened some, almost allowing the flash of a grin. He raised his hands some, and held them away from his body, showing he intended no harm.

"I am your loyal vassal, and thus shall keep no secrets from you, my Emperor." he said, slowly approaching. "Many would pay dearly to know what I am about to share with you." he said, as he came as close as he dared, within range to whisper, so that only the Emperor and his guards may hear. His voice carried softly.

"For I am the heir, and grandson of Sevastian Guile, and Jonsu Himoura. Do with this knowledge as you wish. I have nothing to hide from you."

Nicholas Archival

The walls of the Silver City, as ever, were immense above and around him, as Earl Nicholas arrived at the seat of the Imperial Throne. The peasantry swept aside to give him passage, as though he had parted the sea as in the old fables. His retinue - small though it was - moved forth, maintaining an appropriate distance between himself and the local populace. As they moved, the gleaming silver of their bows glinted in the afternoon sun and the White Chevalier was ever-prominent upon their breasts. Without any great fanfare, they continued onward to the Imperial Palace. The Seqdew District was not the place for an Imperial Magistrate; or, not for any great deal of time, at the very least.

The Renodorian palatial complex proved itself a magnificent sight to behold and Nicholas quietly conceded that nothing in his own Nid Tek could possibly hope to compare. The difference between an emperor and a rural lord was never more apparent, though it did not concern the Earl overly; it was the way things were meant to be. As he began the approach to the gilded entrance to the palace itself, he waved off the vast bulk of his men, with their predetermined time allocated to their own leisure. Two, his most well-regarded soldiers, remained as bodyguards - and one as the bearer of his gifts to Aldrakar.

When they arrived at the entrance, two silver-plated guardsmen stood forth to prevent his passing, if only temporarily. It took them a moment, before their eyes found the answer they sought. The crest of House Archival; the White Chevalier.

"Greetings. I see my own introductions are unneeded," Nicholas began, intoned with an aristocrat's poise. "Does His Imperial Majesty currently sit the Imperial Throne?"

24th April

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Aldrakar Renodin

A Dual Meeting

When they arrived at the entrance, two silver-plated guardsmen stood forth to prevent his passing, if only temporarily. It took them a moment, before their eyes found the answer they sought. The crest of House Archival; the White Chevalier.

"Greetings. I see my own introductions are unneeded," Nicholas began, intoned with an aristocrat's poise. "Does His Imperial Majesty currently sit the Imperial Throne?" ~Nicholas

The guardsmen saluted and pushed the doors open for Imperial Magistrate Nicholas. "Your Excellence, the Emperor is in session. He is at the Throne Room." The words crisp and their motions absent doubt. True to word, the throne room was full of people and at the epicenter of it Aldrakar and Sevastian were close to one another. Several Imperial Guards almost as close as the two yet but clearly a ceremony in full swing. Around there was a plethora of deserving Nobles and retainers.

"I am your loyal vassal, and thus shall keep no secrets from you, my Emperor." he said, slowly approaching. "Many would pay dearly to know what I am about to share with you." he said, as he came as close as he dared, within range to whisper, so that only the Emperor and his guards may hear. His voice carried softly.

"For I am the heir, and grandson of Sevastian Guile, and Jonsu Himoura. Do with this knowledge as you wish. I have nothing to hide from you." ~Sevastian

Blue eyes shone with memory. "Your words are laced with the dust of time. Ages past and near irrelevance." Aldrakar sat back into the throne. "What I said holds true. You make your own destiny Sevastian, although you will have to bear the weight of your ancestors." He looked at the new arrival being Nicholas before returning his eyes to Sevastian. "Your blood lays claim to the entirety of the Lands of Swordfell. A Lurian Claim. Your blood is hated across all of Dwilight by grace of your mother. Your father was an upstart in his own way and refused the throne of the Fellish to another. He was from Morek. Your blood, Sevastian, links the Morek Empire and the Lurian Empire." Aldrakar pondered his own words.

"You have a difficult life ahead of you. prove yourself, show the quality that is you. I've accepted your oath of fealty." Those last words ringing with a certain finality.

Sturm Attano

Sturm rode from the portcullis of the Silver Castle. No banners hung from the walls of the modest castle, yet. Sturm has left the setup to his servants while he attend the pressing matters of the Empire’s defense.

Resplendent in his plate armour and with sixteen lesser knights riding behind him, Sturm felt like he could take on a dragon now.

He breathed deeply and stroked his black moustache. Today was a good day.

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

Sevastian's face dissolved into an expression that could be best described as half grin, half jaunty smirk.

"Nothing in life worth pursuing is ever easy sire. I take my leave, the army marches, and I with it." he said cheerfully, backing away from the Emperor, his arms still held out as he gave a slight bow. He walked backwards a polite distance before turning, so as not to give the impression of turning his back on the Emperor.

Isabella Pavus

Isabella had been in Moon Bay for over a day now, having had repelled two waves of the foulest beasts. In the evening, she ordered the men to dig in to the region and be better prepared for what would come next. She had received reports that the monsters were spreading to other places in the region, including nearby mountains. She had not studied to deal with observers or owlbeasts or giants or kobolds or any of that ilk. She had studied the art of war. To understand herself and to understand her opponent. With beasts, it was far too simple. No intrigue, no excitement, nothing out of the ordinary. Well, she would happily fight a dragon and mount its head from the wall of her estate, but anything short of that is a true waste of time. But, she was devoted to her cause. And her times of following orders would be temporary. The Emperor could dislike her and shun her and think her attitude poor all he wanted - she produced undeniable results. She was not conventional enough for traditional government. The only way for a controversial knight to progress was to be controversial. She would make her stand, say things clearly, and not heed to needless pleasantries. If she longed for the life of a bureaucrat, she would be studying in Dwilight University, reading about law and culture and all such things to apply them in essays. She needed culture, but to use as a crutch to gain a position. The only position she would gain from culture is power. To understand the enemy. And only them, could she defeat them.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Captain Gunnar entered her tent.

"My lady," he said

"Gunnar, what is it?" responded Isabella

"We've give men injured. Fifteen others are still fit to fight, excluding us. They need morale. They need words of inspiration. They need a leader. They need you."

"Are you not in your position for a reason, Captain?"

"Well, I am. But I can only do so much. Please, I ask this of you just once. Not for me, for the men."

"Very well," Isabella nodded, "I will do what I can."

Followed by Captain Gunnar, the Dame stepped outside and towards the open grounds where the men spoke rumours about other men in Luria not being treated very well, and that they shouldn't be guarding a rogue region.

"You are all privileged to work under me, serving your realm. You have standards to live up to, and I expect you to always do your best, no matter what the cost. These may be difficult times, but I will not tolerate any unrest. Victorious warriors win the war before going to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and seek to win. Luria has already won, and you will all soon see. Now back to work!"

The men gave a mixture of responses, saluting, nodding, just listening - but all meant the same. They had orders, and they were going to follow them. After a returned nod, Isabella walked back to her tent, all too soon followed by Gunnar.

"Dame Isabella, that wasn't quite what I had in mi-"

"It does not matter what you had in mind," she interrupted, "What mat matters is that we get the job done. We are not here to fish along the coastline, or play games around the fire, or whatnot. I treat them like I would my sons. Only then will they follow me anywhere. When they are good, I will bless them. When they are bad, I will scold them. Tell me, Gunnar, do you know much of war?"

"As expected. I study the art of war. To become the archetype for the perfect warrior. I know how to conquer, but I cannot do it. I see it wise to avoid battle, but I have bloodlust. I am human, as are we all, only I have awareness. But I am privileged, like the men, to serve Luria. One should ponder, deliberate, before making a move. Earl William appears to not be doing this in full. He has thoughts, he acts upon them. He is a good example for my talk on tacticians. A great tactician creates plans. A good tactician recognises the soundness of a plan presented to him. A fair tactician must see the plan succeed before offering approval. William is a great tactician, and he creates plans. Sir Jeffrey has not recognised the soundness of the plan, not spoke it out. I have not yet seen it succeed and so I have yet to offer my approval, only speaking warnings of what could be. The team works effectively enough, or will when Jeffrey learns more of plans. Not to fault him, I have no doubt he knows more than the average man. And he will get there. And soon, the Iuvenilis Attingas Parvulorum will be the most effective force in Luria. A small force can achieve great things. Wait and see, Gunnar, wait and see."

25th April

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Sturm Attano

Sturm smoothed his moustache as he held the bejeweled scroll container. This was an honour, and a great opportunity. He thanked and dismissed the messenger.

Opening it he read, breath quickening.

Some time later he called for his steward. “Prepare a carriage headed for Askileon.”

It was a long and tiresome ride through the Empire, after the two and a half day trip reached it’s destination, Sturm was eager to stretch his legs. Askileon was a marvel of canals and aqueducts, he had been told they were for storing water during the dry summer.

The carriage rumbled to a stop in front of the imperial palace. He marveled at the building before stepping out.

He wore fine clothing, dyed deep black. His boots and gloves were rich brown leather. His cloak was rich purple, the Attano heraldry dyed into it. His neck length hair and his moustache were recently combed. A dress sword hung by his side.

He walked up to the door guards, an air of confidence and nobility about him.

“Sir Sturm Attano, I am here for my audience with His Majesty.” He procured the scroll case.

Aldrakar Renodin

And that makes Two

He walked up to the door guards, an air of confidence and nobility about him.

“Sir Sturm Attano, I am here for my audience with His Majesty.” He procured the scroll case. ~Sturm

The guards saw the jewel encrusted scroll case and made a small bow before opening the doors to the Imperial Throne room. Coincidentally, Sturm found himself right next to the Imperial Magistrate Nicholas whom like the young Knight, had requested an audience with the Emperor.

Several Nobles nearby in far too fashionable clothing looked on as they sipped win and made very judgmental faces.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

The first chapterhouse of Ordo Leonis was barely two dozen yards from Heir's Gate and it was magnificent... if empty halls, cobwebs and squeaky gates could be called magnificent. None of it mattered to Myr, he saw it with eyes of the future and what he saw was magnificent. Foundations were more than solid - ones of a castle as ancient as the city itself. Rest could be built upon. Not long after visiting the halls of the order his youthful glee took him hostage and brought him straight to the Imperial Complex. He found himself standing just in front of the throne room and an imposing guardsman, having neither invitation nor summon to accompany his zeal or justify his haste. He felt his ears growing hotter as unforgiving gaze of the imperial guard continued to punish his silence. He gulped down the hesitation and with renewed fortitude stepped closer to the guard, staring him in the eye, and said:

"Good day to you, kind sir. I am Myr Arnickles Renodin. Forgive me but I must've misplaced my invitation. I seek audience with the Emperor. Would you allow if I just..." - he squeezed past the perplexed guard, only hearing his protest when already inside the safety of the throne room. His self-satisfaction gave place to discomposure as he noticed that Emperor is granting not one but two audiences at the time and the commotion around the entrance caught attention of everyone in the throne room, making Myr the target of nearly all of their stares. In a poorly imagined fad of excessive chivalry he punched his chest nearly knocking out his own breath, cried out "MY LIEGE!" and bowed in the deepest genuflexion he could perform.

Zhou Tai Bluelake

His ride had been uneventful, but Zhou Tai had appreciated it very much. He almost felt like he was on vacations - for a few days free of handling the disputes of the two different family branches. His mother had been the proudest - and would make the royals uncomfortable at every chance. Thankfully queen Ilya's heirs had been so very gracious, and Mary Anne had eventually won over everyone's hearts. Little Mary Anne who was now across the sea. Zhou shook his head, putting thoughts of his family to the side.

The last few days had seen him ride through Poryatu, where autumn harvest was in full swing, fight monsters in Nid Tek alongside the young Imperial Magistrate, and enjoy the bustling life of Askileon Purlieus. He had taken these roads many times before, but never with such a duty upon him.

"Are we there yet?" asked a small voice, for the 7th time (this day). The Head of House Bluelake chuckled.

"No, Drake, we aren't. You'll recognize the silver city when you see it."

The youngster pressed his pony to catch up to his cousin's horse.

"But will it be really big?"

"Yes"

"And silver?"

"Depending a bit on the time of our arrival, yes. It tends to look golden during sunrise."

"And is it true the Emperor is a hairy man?"

"What!?" Zhou Tai looked at the Heir quizzically "Where on Luria have you heard that?"

"The kitchens..." the child was laughing.

"You're too old to still be going to the kitchens, mr. Drake Bluelake! Your manners better be impeccable at the city tomorrow."

"They will, cousin Zhou." The eight year old was serious but his eyes twinkled with humour.

"Brat." The man muttered, not unkindly. "Let's see if your riding skills are as good as your jokes. You'll wade the next river."

The boy looked delighted, and Zhou Tai sighed at being in charge of the Heir of the House. At least - it would be just a week.

26th April

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Aldrakar Renodin

Two plus One

"Good day to you, kind sir. I am Myr Arnickles Renodin. Forgive me but I must've misplaced my invitation. I seek audience with the Emperor. Would you allow if I just..." - he squeezed past the perplexed guard, only hearing his protest when already inside the safety of the throne room. His self-satisfaction gave place to discomposure as he noticed that Emperor is granting not one but two audiences at the time and the commotion around the entrance caught attention of everyone in the throne room, making Myr the target of nearly all of their stares. In a poorly imagined fad of excessive chivalry he punched his chest nearly knocking out his own breath, cried out "MY LIEGE!" and bowed in the deepest genuflexion he could perform. ~Myr

Able to see what occurred at the great doors that were the entrance to the Imperial Throne room Aldrakar suppressed a smirk as he beheld Sir Myr's entrance. The young man's voice boomed well out of place and his head dipped so far forwards it nearly collided with the floor. He rolled his eyes at the bravado but within them more than a little mirth shone.

Lacing his fingers together Aldrakar looked at the three gathered men. Imperial Magistrate Nicholas, Sir Sturm and Sir Myr. "Wonder who will step forwards first." He softly said to himself. Nearby Imperial Guards that were within earshot grinned like a pack of lazy wolves.

Sofia Nistalia

Sofia watched the tomes in front of her, scratching her forehead in confusion, using her small portions of free time on her tent in Irvington.

-So, this is it. The base of Sanctus Fortism. What do you think, Adric?

Her men's captain looked at the tomes from the other side of the table, his expression remained the same as he looked at tome after tome. If Sofia was to give a word, she would say "Disbelief".

-This is not what we accorded with him.

Sofia nodded, raising her right hand as a soldier left a stack of letters on the table, and empty parchment scrolls.

-It appears we have work to do then, if we want my dreams of an united luria to come true, reforms must be made. With pen and paper, we shall write the future of Sanctus Fortism for better, or worse. What is about to happen will shake the minds of those who lack faith, but strenghten those under our vision. let us begin.

Sofia grabbed the first parchment, dipped her quill in her bottle of ink, and began to write...

Sturm Attano

Sturm noted the nobles socialising in the hall but paid them no attention. He noticed another noble standing beside where he had stopped, Sturm was about to introduce himself when a voice called out behind him. He turned quizzically at the noble now bowing rather comically to the Emperor.

Sturm steeled himself, and took a few steps forward before kneeling.

“My Lord Emperor, Your Majesty, I am Sturm Attano, third child of Corvin and Arriete Attano. I have come across the sea, from the East, to lend my blade in the defense of Humanity against beast and darkspawn. In this purpose, I do swear fealty unto you, your Empire, and your successors ‘til my dying breath or I am released from my oath.”

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas, although the senior of both Sir Sturm and Sir Myr, seemed both content - and quietly amused - to allow the pair to make their bold proclamations to the Emperor. It was ever his preference to allow the brave and forthright their opportunity. Instead, much like Aldrakar himself, he took his time to observe the proceedings.

The Magistrate took a moment to cast his eyes across the court; with little surprise, he noticed that many eyes were on him. While the duo of knights took the spotlight, he was the man chosen by His Imperial Majesty himself to uphold the rule of Lurian law; perhaps the most important task he could have been given.

Finally, upon the oath of fealty from Sir Sturm - though he did not recognise the man himself - Nicholas could only find himself nodding slowly, with approval. A man was forged from his oaths, his vows and his pledges. Those who did not swear them were rarely to be trusted. Purpose made man who he was.

Aldrakar Renodin

An oath to Last

“My Lord Emperor, Your Majesty, I am Sturm Attano, third child of Corvin and Arriete Attano. I have come across the sea, from the East, to lend my blade in the defense of Humanity against beast and darkspawn. In this purpose, I do swear fealty unto you, your Empire, and your successors ‘til my dying breath or I am released from my oath.” ~Sturm

Watching the young man offer words before all the Nobles gathered Aldrakar leaned back into the throne. Listening carefully but also allowing his eye to wander over the crowd. A moment long it also rested on Nicholas. When the last words came from Sturm's oath it was Aldrakar's turn to speak. His words carried easily across the room for all to hear. And to your Oath I shall hold you. Until such a time that I release you from it or death does claim you. In turn I will provide you with an upkeep suitable to your service rendered onto me. Providing enough so that you may command a company of good and loyal men in my name and do battle for the pleasure of the Realm and our Sovereign master, The Emperor. A smile could be seen trapped in the Emperor's eyes as he beheld the promising youth.

"I swear to do right by you as long as your Oath is strong and shelter you in my homes, provide you cloth to garb your body in and see to the nourishment that grands you life. Justice shall be mine to give and my hand to shield you from the evil of others. This is my sacred vow onto you as Liege and I accept your Oath." A gesture of the hand made it seem a mighty creed had been committed to the stone of ages. Ever lasting and unbroken. The Emperor held Sir Sturm's eyes.

"Sir Sturm, you do me proud and make swell my heart with hope as the future just turned to a stark Gold against the black night sky."

Finally, upon the oath of fealty from Sir Sturm - though he did not recognize the man himself - Nicholas could only find himself nodding slowly, with approval. A man was forged from his oaths, his vows and his pledges. Those who did not swear them were rarely to be trusted. Purpose made man who he was. ~Nicholas

Aldrakar's lips formed into a smile that retained hints of smugness while his shoulders revealed a slight shrug as his eyes met Nicholas's.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

Myr listened to the oath proclamation intently and with the eyes of his memory he saw how not long ago he was the one giving oath to the Emperor. Much alike was that day, and much alike were his feelings, for now he was entering on a new path again. And one much more demanding at that. Using the opportunity that the exchange of proclamations between the Emperor and the new knight gave him he turned to Imperial Magistrate and in a whisper so as to not disturb the ceremonial event before him he said:

"Your Honour, Earl Nicholas. How splendid it is to have you as one of the founding knights of the Ordo Leonis. Having such august members as peers of fledgling knight within the order certainly grants us more legitimacy." - he made sure that his whisper doesn't interrupt the ceremony and lowering his voice even further and continued - "I recall your pledge of support. It is my honest ambition to have at least one chapterhouse of the order in each of the Lurian Kingdoms. It would be an honour if you decided to construct one in Nid Tek."

Waiting for the Emperor to accept Sturm's oath, seeing the deed done Myr finally decided to speak the reason of his visit.

"My liege!" - he said loudly but not unduly so - "I simply wanted to give my sincerest thanks for the quarters in Askileon for Ordo Leonis. Where Lurian Empire is a colossus, I'll make sure that Ordo Leonis is the torch in his hand and from said torch valour, honour and glory shine brightly for all Dwilight to see." - he inclined his head alone in a soldierly bow and backed out two steps giving place for the other guests to have their audience.

Leif Wilkins

As Leif placed his quil down on the weathered oak table, he heard loud banging on the door. The air was humid with the summer's hot approach. He looked around and saw the fisherman's wife hidden under the sack-cloth sheet, clenching it to her chest - eyes as wide as the night's moon.

"Unlock the door damn-it - you wench!!!" Yelled the fisherman ramming the door with a bucket of carp.

Leif jumped into his trousers, looked back at Helena, bowed deeply, blew out the candle and slipped through the kitchen window with the letter he just wrote the nobles of the realm.

Laying under an apple tree, Leif turned a fresh Macintosh in his hand chuckling as he thought "Fishermen's wives are always so under-appreciated..." and fell asleep.

Nicholas Archival

Aldrakar's lips formed into a smile that retained hints of smugness while his shoulders revealed a slight shrug as his eyes met Nicholas's.

As Aldrakar's gaze met Nicholas', the Earl bowed his head deeply in a gesture of deferential respect. The time for proper genuflection was coming, but he allowed Sir Sturm to finalise his oath of fealty to the Emperor. There was, however, the faintest of smiles on his face, directed at the man upon the throne; matters of courtesy aside, he did not fully hide that he was pleased to be at Aldrakar's court.

"Your Honour, Earl Nicholas. How splendid it is to have you as one of the founding knights of the Ordo Leonis. Having such august members as peers of fledgling knight within the order certainly grants us more legitimacy." - he made sure that his whisper doesn't interrupt the ceremony and lowering his voice even further and continued - "I recall your pledge of support. It is my honest ambition to have at least one chapterhouse of the order in each of the Lurian Kingdoms. It would be an honour if you decided to construct one in Nid Tek."

Nicholas glanced toward Sir Myr. His only reply to the initial words from the knight were that of a firm nod; he did not intend to interrupt the proceedings, but the man's words were ones to acknowledge. At the whispered words, however, he motioned to answer in a soft undertone.

"You have little to worry about on that count, Sir Myr. I have had the intention to construct one such guild-house in Nid Tek since your initial announcement. The spread of knightly etiquette and chivalric honour is perhaps my greatest ambition."

Then, as the knight stepped forth to take Sir Sturm's place, the Earl maintained his position, to allow both knights equal opportunity without his position overbearing them.

Leonid Castillo

Sir Leif, I am coming to Irvington by the morning. I'll introduce you to the local nobility at the palace by the lake if you care to wait. I sent orders to the staff to keep you some of the best accomodations for your enjoyment. In the meantime be careful not to get into any trouble outside the administrative buildings.

The peasants won't need time to get use to you if you are half the bard you claim to be.

27th April

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Leif Wilkins

A Short Poem by Leif

Half man to some, a legend to others, He inspires the hearts of most men and all mothers, One half may sound incomplete, But in cheer and joy no one else can compete, Some may find him a bother, But most know him as friend or a brother, Close your eyes, breathe inside, and look deep, Don’t be blue, or ashamed, or asleep, Think of the cheery ol’ Leif, Feel your heart, it's now empty - he took it, that thief!

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

The Sallow Sovereign:

Murmurs of the King, of the Pallid Mask, Grain rots beneath the jaundiced sun, Whilst the Steward is brought to task, The Shadows Lengthen, In Solaria.

Marocciden gluttony and avarice, The bleeding land is staunched, By the vision of Blinded Alice, Our Mother has risen, In Lost Solaria

Vesperi arrogance is brought to heel, Nihil sub sole novum, Treasonous sons broken upon the wheel, Death breeds new life, In unified Luria

Whispers spoken softly loudly ring, Where flap the tatters of the Dragon King, Must die unheard in, Cursed Nebel

Song of my soul, the whispers are dead, Die thou, unsung, choking on ambition, False pretenses and tears unshed, Shall dry and die with, The Lost Occidens.

Kelindun Orobar

Kelindun was having a pleasant dream, something about chasing a scarcely dressed girl in an abandoned shed, probably based on a memory from his youth, when a firm knock on his door brusquely woke him up. The images from his dream were still lingering in his mind when he gave the visitor permission to enter. So it was he could not help, as his Captain Laura entered his quarters, imagining her in the leading part of this nightly adventure. He immediately rejected these thoughts, regreting such unprofessional behaviour. Furthermore, the Captain was beautiful, but only when you closed your eyes. Her skinny, sinewy and scarred body in no way matched the soft, dulcet tones of her voice. When she spoke, it was as if she sang, leaving you no choise but to focus on what she was saying.

"You better have a good reason to wake me this early, Cap," Kelindun said while sitting on the edge of his bed, covered by only his sheets.

"First of all, Sir, it is well passed noon already, our usual time to meet and discuss reports and letters. And since it is no longer morning would," she spoke, leaving a subtle pause while glancing at his groin," you mind getting dressed?"

Kelindun looked down, recognised the bulge as any man would, and started laughing. "Excuses me for the unwanted salute," he spoke, quickly grabbing his pants. Standing up, a throbbing headache surprised him, wiping the smile from his face. A look at the empty bottles on his desk identified the reason he overslept.

"Anything of importance," he asked, while his face slowly turned a strange shade of green, "and make it quick. I might have to make a contribution to the local sewer quite soon."

Captain Laura give him a quick but detailed summary of recent events, the new arrivals, some religious discussion and the usual orders. She finished with the announcement of some poetry contest, after which she was excused. Kelindun was intrigued, although he never entered a battle fought with pen instead of sword, he was here to experience new challenges, so he spent the rest of the day dividing his time between writing and throwing up.

Winter Evening -- Poryatu

Myr Arnickles Renodin

Upon a bed of cloudy sky A dragon sleeps with boney mane His eyes burn black amid his flight He's more than strong, but less than sane

Though some are born to sweet delight Ever serene and unafraid "Thou scream in awe before my might!" The dragon's voice rives through the glade

The flames erupt from dire maw The ashes unbecome a wood And bodies squirt blood from the jaws All sought escape, yet noone could

An infant's ash adorns the yard, His mother's cries would mourn the plight If hadn't used her as a lard The dargon's sordid appetite

Such is the fate, no point in lies, So scream or cry, or sleep, or brood You are the world in your own eyes In dragon's though you are but food

Leif Wilkins

Jimmy the Goat

I woke up in my chamber this morning, A young cock was moaning and groaning, I looked out of the window, and out of the blue, It was Jimmy the dimwit looking as ifth’ he found some grand clue, A slingshot in hand and with masterful aim, I got him right in his future, making him tame, The rest of the morning was quiet and calm, As dimwitted Jimmy lay there - no use for his palm. Jimmy now tends the garden - sings to birds and the bees, Most of his time now he spends on his knees.

Karibash ka Habb

It is not my own verse, but I submit from my own saga:

Valkyrjan walls stood vast Before warriors of western worlds So spoke the Saxon seereress Of her victory ordained

Warborn Tórrarin with rage Wreckless abandon wrought through him Cried out courageously At the peasant queen afar

My arm though broken was remade From Tor's wrath I am giv'n Unbreakable a guard arm made With which your world be rend'd

Haruka' howled horrendous like Warborn didn't even flinch Forward her foul call Fool was he to make she

The horns were heard all wide War to remake our world Two tribes together charged History was made this day

The thousandslayer who built the walls So cruelly fated to tear them down The king crashed against their ranks Terror, fear, and pain abound

The battle closed in sunlight Warborn cried out aloud The peasant queen fled with haste Against the rage of Tor made mortal

So was Valkyrja broken By the builder of her walls The shieldarm sworn to protect By Tor's anger made to destroy Karibash ka Habb

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

Sevastian stepped out from the large pavilion tent in the center of his camp. He could have taken a more lavish room in town, but he preferred to keep a sharp eye on his men, and soldiers let loose in town is a sure recipe for disaster. He strolled about, and found his Captain, Alberic.

"Any sign?" Sevastian asked.

"None, mi'lord." he grunted, his attention mostly upon the men.

"Very well." Sevastian said curtly, before returning to his tent to pour himself a cup of wine. As he passed the cooking fires, he crumpled a note, and dropped it into the flames.

Kaguya Fujiwara

In the spirit of camaraderie I shall offer a traditional form of Yamatai poetry. I desire not to be considered in the competition, but merely hope that others might enjoy my writing as I have enjoyed theirs.

Lament for a Lost Home

Spring in fair Yamatai Blossoms bloom from Earth to Sky, Now only in mind's eye.

28th April

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Isabella Pavus

My entry to the contest is attached. It is in parts elegy to my late brother, though the last stanza could by all means be considered satirical (though nonetheless true).

The night was long, the day had been,

The roles of noble man all done,

For now he rested with his kin,

Dancing, singing, then feasting,

He dug into the baker’s bun,

The fresh-made bread had shiny sheen,

And he said, “all so well done”,

And smiled at the treat, all the while glistening,


But Dorian would soon be gone,

The hero-priest, the admirable

Man that could withstand all brawn

And face of anything harrowing.

But maybe he was conquerable,

Human just like any on

A journey that was imponderable

Leaving sailed ship sinking.


He journeyed off out to the west,

Out to take on mighty foes,

All just to prove part of mad test,

To prove he was the harbinger,

Soon he learnt that he had woes

And may not come out his best.

But then a holy axe he shows

Truly the blood stars’ arbiter.


But more to him was Luria,

Land of the greatest kings,

Emperor, lords and area

Blessed by the divines it is.

The realm and where siren sings

Is where the gods throw feria

For gods and Luria swapped rings

And with this should be no ascesis.


Though not all here have been so smart

With likes of Harte and Dodger.

You might just think of knavery art

When trickery is all they’re dealing.

They sing of songs of Dodger’s Todger

And that of Chance’s Harte

That is to say worth less than slobber

All the while they are all missing!

Winter Night -- Poryatu

Cador Andrasta

Dawn broke over Fissoa, as the morning mists lingered over the fields outside the walls of the city. The silence was broken only by the sounds of whistling birds. The guards on the ramparts could scarcely see a hundred yards beyond their positions, so the sight of half a hundred red-blue-and-gold banners creeping up the road must have startled some of them. Then out of the haze, a column of heavily armored soldiers emerged. Clad from head to toe in grey plate, their greathelms topped by tall plumes, they made their way towards the gates in immaculate lockstep. The warrior at the head of the column appeared to be their leader. Standing at least half a foot above the men behind him, the first man carried the Lurian Imperial standard: a golden two-headed eagle on a field of red and blue. At about fifty paces from the walls, the column halted and divided itself in two rows, and stood waiting.

Then, a wagon came forth from the mists, drawn by four oxen. Its load was covered by a heavy cloth tarp. On top of it, a man in a suit of brigantine armor sat cross-legged, an ornate war scythe laid across his lap. When the wagon stopped, the man jumped down from it, hooked the point of his scythe on the tarp, and pulled it away with a theatrical motion to reveal half a dozen oak barrels. Five of them were marked; mead, ale, wine, cider and strongwine. The sixth was unmarked. The man approached the gate and cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Greetings, Fissoa!", he bellowed, "I am Cador Andrasta, Lord of Sky Hall, and I come bearing gifts!"

Kostaja Kosunen Cosula

KK got news that one of the Lurian Generals had arrived to the City.

He ordered to put good feast up!

Every noble is welcomed today's party again.

He sends invites to Duke Matthew and Marshall Cador.

"Oh boy, this is great... big parties! Almost like times when i was Duke of Saler, i can hardly remember those years!" KK mumbled by himself and laughing silently when he remembered all the parties and orgies of those times.

Leif Wilkins

We Bleed

We play life for fortunate and glory,

Some live life for the story,

Blood is everywhere - on our hands, in our veins,

It beats and it bleeds - plenty as Luria’s grains,

But where truly, is blood spilled?

Is it simply when a man is killed?

Alas, nay - that’s just blood,

In pursuit of greatness our mind is oft a flood,

For truly, blood is our essence,

It flows hot or cold - depending on presence,

It’s all a game - avoiding failure, when true colours will bleed,

Thus man is defined by his creed,

Be it hunger or patience, sweetness or greed.

Staedtler la Stylo

My fellows,

I, and the University, watch all who partake with an eager taste burning at our throats. We hunger for poetry worthy of Lurian wealth, and perhaps our needs will be sated yet. I have also declared that the eventual winner shall also receive a further 100 gold from my own pockets, on behalf of the University's gratitude and admiration. Until then, a humble submission from myself.

These Southern Winds Bite

Beside the ailing farm-fields,

beneath the looming peaks,

entrenched in soil,

and age-soaked beams.

Here lie the failing arm-wields,

in each are fooling sheikhs,

incensed with oils,

bandaged, cloaked in dreams.

They bicker as crows,

slumber as oak roots,

gorging upon their history,

at boresome feasts.

Make wicker of crowns,

stumbling down old mouts,

forging nought but mystery,

of awesome deeds.


The storm howled,

so the thatch did tear,

the stale air shot cold,

as if a ghost's mouth did breathe.

'The fauns growled,'

lo, the wretch did declare,

'these trailing fears are not old;

passive, the lost south sits beneath.'


The salt-flecked tide,

crashes to their buckling walls,

all leaking and showering, the homely, the pinewood,

Fury, free-formed, drowning through their leather.

Their gold-set mind,

flashes through their calls,

foreseeing as only the wise would;

a Luria, reborn, sounding true as the weather.

Leif Wilkins

"Master Leif, we have been traveling for three moons and had to stop at multiple blockades on our way to Giask - are you sure we are heading in the right direction?", said the soldier next to Leif. Leif kept looking at the path ahead and pulled his hood tighter over his head, the cool wind blowing. "Tanner... Have you heard of the story Jimmy The Goat?" "Nay sire - who is Jimmy?" said the soldier confused. "Ye dimwit" said the scout beside him with a lisp, his tongue showing through his missing front teeth "T'isth the bloke who got histh bullocks maimed by Mathter Leif's slingshoth hehehe" "You look like a teething infant Vaughn, you should do more scouting and less talking" said Tanner. "He is right" smiled Leif "I want you to think about Jimmy next time you question our choice of direction - only perhaps we can make you as pretty as Vaughn. It wouldn't take long for you to learn how to keep the water in your mouth" Tanner shuddered at the thought of losing his teeth - one of the few features that has given him a chance at marriage. Vaughn laughed with a noise that sounded like a mix of a donkey groan chicken chatter. "It is about time to retire these dimwits and replace them with decent folk" thought Leif as he approached the city of Giask.

29th April

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Nevit Vilanova

Battle in Thar Gortauth

Nevit cursed under his breath. Even with a majority of the monsters moving out of the region, he and his men were hopelessly outnumbered. They were merely house guards, not the elite troops trained in the Imperial academies and recruitment centers. The situation looked bleak.

"Let's prepare to pull back, and make for the sea. Hopefully we can find a..." Nevit's whisper was cut off as the beasts howled. They had caught the scent.

"FORM LINE!" Nevit roared. His men were uphill, and in the trees, not ideal for getting off shots. "Vilanova Guard! Advance!" He shouted, hoping the men didn't notice the fear in his voice. The men advanced, holding tight in formation. Once they cleared the treeline, Nevit could clearly see the beasts rushing in for the kill, their slavering maws full of teeth. "Draw!" He issued the familiar command whilst praying to himself that the men would remember their training. He couldn't take his eyes off the oncoming horde.

"LOOSE!" He cried, and his men fired as one. He let out a cry of pure triumph as the arrows took flight. Surely they would fell the beasts. The cry turned into a moan as only two of them fell, most of the arrows breaking on the hide of the beasts, who had now closed the gap. He drew his sword, ducked the swing of a massive claw and swung in an upward arc. He screamed, not out of terror, but pure hate and anger. He felt the sword bite home, and turned to deliver the killing stroke, but a few of his men were already upon it, stabbing with knives and short swords. He whirled about, no time to worry about the rest of them. He could hear the screams of his men, and the awful sound of flesh tearing. He ran forward, ducked under a swing that would have taken his head clean off, and was suddenly face to face with the Alpha. The large three eyed beast's maw was dripping with saliva in anticipation of the feast to come.

Nevit had never felt hate like this before, and pure anger drove him on. Time seemed to slow, and the sounds about him, seconds ago almost deafening, were now dull and muted. He could hear his heart pounding blood through his body as he swung his sword, batting aside the Alpha's claws, and into it's chest. He twisted the blade, and pulled it clean. The beast roared, and swing at him, sending him sailing. Nevit landed hard, but was back on his feet, and the next thing he knew he was standing over the dread beast's carcass, stabbing again, and again. His throat hurt. Had he been screaming this whole time?

He looked up and around him, and noticed his men rallying, as the monsters fled. They formed a line, and fired a volley at a laggard, killing the beast as it fled. They cheered as it fell, and then a hush fell over them as they looked to their master, standing over the bloodied corpse of an Alpha.

All told, six men lay dead, and seven were wounded, but they were alive. Nevit shook his head. They should have all been killed. He would have died, died fulfilling orders he knew were hopeless. His Marshal likely would have had his corpse reprimanded and fined too. He shook his head and laughed. He was alive!

"Two of you, skin that beast so that I may present its hide to King Cador! You, and you! Go to that village we passed, and get some carts. The rest of you, tend to the wounded. Once the carts have returned we are getting the hell out of here."

Isabella Pavus

The journey through Smokey Hills was not an easy one. She entered with 21 riders behind her, and will leave alone. Not because they died, rather that they deserted. At least she was right about something, they needed a lot of work. And the mistake of not carrying hoards of wealth was not one she would make again. Though, she had asked but had received no answer. There was little for her to say about what had happened, only than to advise never to follow that route again. If she was unlucky, she would reach Grodno this evening, maybe at the break of dawn. If she was lucky, she would stumble across the bodies of two dozen cowards.

Winter Evening -- Poryatu

Leif Wilkins

Leif looked into his coffer and counted thirty-one golden coins after recruiting thirteen men to his company as per instruction. He grew slightly concerned as he recently joined two guilds, and the costs of his legion grew with new bellies to feed.

30th April

Winter Evening -- Poryatu

William Fitz Roberts

William was enjoying one of the rare moments he was able to stay in Fox Hall. It was a wonderful experience just to be able to walk the gardens and relax a while, listening to the sounds of life. He watched the sky turn pink as the sun began to set over the gentle hills of Grodno and then began to slowly walk back towards the Château’s grand hall. Leisurely climbing the stairs, he listened to the sounds of laughter coming from his daughters’ bedroom. He crept carefully down the corridor and quietly opened the door, spying Giesla and Helga practicing with wooden swords by the fireplace. He watched for a while, before saying softly

‘Oughtn’t the two of you be in bed at this hour?’

The two girls, the spitting image of one another, gasped loudly, their swords dropping to the ground with a loud clatter. They both looked down at their feet bashfully and Helga said meekly ‘sorry father’.

William chuckled, ‘you best get in bed before your mother hears you, or worse, Henriette’

The twins squealed in terror at the name of their fearsome nanny and rushed to their respective beds. William laughed once more. ‘That’s better, now Giesla am I to understand that you broke Karl’s nose today?’

‘he started it, he was criticising my footwork and praising Prospero for doing nothing at all when I was only doing it the way Uncle Leopold told me. So I went a little over the top with my next parry and,… it was an accident I swear’, Giesla’s lip began to tremble as if she were about to cry.

‘I wasn’t chastising you, I was praising your handiwork. Does Karl always favour Prospero?

‘Yes, he thinks the sun shines out of Prospero’s arse’, Helga chimed in, sulkily

‘Such language from one so young, where did you hear such a phrase?’

‘Mother’, both twins said simultaneously

‘Yes, that sounds about right.’ William said, struggling to disguise his mirth, ‘I will speak to Karl, I get the impression that he thinks women shouldn’t fight. He clearly hasn’t spent much time around Godlinda or my cousins’

‘Father?’, Giesla said meekly

‘Yes, child?’

‘Why do we wear a red wolf on our clothing?

‘It is not a wolf, it is a fox. I guess it is time that you know the tale. Helga, come sit by your sister, you need to know this too’ Both Girls sat next to each other, staring up at the massive frame of their father who had sat down on the corner of Giesla’s bed

‘Where to begin. Well, as you know many generations ago there was a great Knight called Richard Roberts, a warrior famed not for his military prowess, but for his love of women. He had several children by many of these women, the greatest of which was Giesla.’ He smiled as he saw Giesla’s eyes widen at the mention of her own name. ‘Now this child grew into a woman who was famed for her cunning, her daring and her prowess in battle. In fact, so great was her skill and so widespread her reputation that she began to be known by another name: the Scarlet Fox. That woman was your great, great, great, great Grandmother and was a hero of our family. That is why we wear a red fox, it is what her son Karl took as his heraldry when the last of the Roberts family died without an heir and he inherited their wealth.’

The two girls looked up in wonder as their father spoke, and when he had finished there was a long silence before Giesla, always the bolder and most inquisitive of the pair, asked ‘is the Scarlet Fox dead then?’

‘The first one died long ago, but her granddaughter Theresa took up the mantle and ideals of the Scarlet Fox. Ever since then there has always been a Scarlet Fox, chosen amongst the members of our family to bring honour to our name and fight for a cause wherever one might be found’

‘Who is the current Scarlet Fox, is it you father?’ Giesla asked earnestly.

William guffawed loudly at that, ‘no child, the Scarlet Fox is always a woman. Our cousin Antonia recently took up the mantle, she is on Beluaterra now. She writes to me occasionally of her adventures, and her son Manfred is coming to live with us soon.’

‘Will I ever be the Scarlet Fox?’ Giesla asked, clearly wishing it to be so

William stood up, looking down kindly at his daughter. ‘One day, perhaps. We’ll see’. He turned as he heard the door open and William saw his wife standing there. The twins, besides their deep grey eyes, were the spitting image of her. ‘What are you three up to? Making secret plots after dark?’ She smiled broadly, walking into the room

‘Mother, father was telling us about the Scarlet Fox and how I am going to be it one day and lead armies like Father, and cousin Franz and cousin Antonia and cousin Titos and how I will be a great warrior and…’ Giesla paused for breath, having gabbled in her excitement

‘Such grand ambitions for an eight year old’ Anne said, smiling warmly, ‘but first, you must concentrate on learning your letters and how to do arithmetic’

Helga and Giesla both made a face. ‘We don’t want to learn our letters or do arithmetic, we want to fight, to lead soldiers into battle’ Helga spoke this time, Giesla nodding enthusiastically at her sister’s words

‘And how do you expect to read orders? Or know what to pay your soldiers? There are many skills necessary for such a career. Now, to bed with you both’ Anne beckoned to her husband, who walked to the door obediently, shutting it behind them as they both left. Anne turned and looked adoringly up at her husband, placing her arms around him in a loving embrace. ‘They may look like me, husband, but they have your stubborn wilfulness and violent temperament, poor Karl’s nose has only just stopped bleeding. And Maria came to me the other day ranting and raving about how Helga managed to shatter Lucrezia’s collarbone in a mock wrestling match’

‘They are young, they are bound to make mistakes’ William said, dismissively. ‘Now, come on. We only have one last night of soft sheets and feather pillows before we are back on the road again and I intend to make the most of it’

The sound of Anne’s laughter could be heard echoing around the rooms of Fox Hall as the young couple made their way to their bedroom, arm in arm.

Zhou Tai Bluelake

Good evening, Highborn of Luria,

I myself am not much of a writer, but there is someone with me who has been eagerly reading all entries to the poetry competition and he begged me to allow him to send his own submission. I made sure no spelling mistakes were made, but other than that, it's here in full. It has taken him a long time to put together and all of my soldiers can already sing it in tune, from hearing it so many times.

From Earth to Moon

A boy and his uncle

One Head and one Heir

One full of dreams

One full of hair


They travel together

A path so well travelled

By heroes of Luria

From tales unravelled


From Earth through the pastures

And plains by the lake

There were even monsters

Defeated by Drake


Then came the sea

The sight so breathtaking

Even heroes of old

Have had their knees shaking


She shines in Silver

She bustles with life

Her arches hold stories

Her markets, delights


The Moon has it all

Even feathers she wields

But Heir wants the soldiers

And horses, and shields


They sprout from Earth

With dreams fed by Moon

All heroes of old

And those coming soon.


by Drake Bluelake