Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/July

1st July

Autumn Day -- Nid Tek

William Fitz Roberts

The fight was on. Helga was clearly the better fighter, parrying her opponent’s thrusts and strikes with ease, and yet she sensed some raw talent underneath some of his less clumsy blows. She racked a few easy strikes across his arms and legs, but he only cried out once. He did manage to strike her a couple of times and she was forced to duck to avoid being hit in the eye. She was just beginning to enjoy herself when she heard a shrill shriek of indignant rage

‘There you are, Giesla and Helga come here this instant!’

Helga immediately disengaged from the visibly disappointed Drake and said ‘Bugger, it’s Henriette’

‘I heard that young lady, just wait until your father hears about this’, Drake turned to see a very short, blonde woman purposefully advancing towards them, flanked by some Bravi in the Fitz Roberts colours. She was a pretty woman, that was clear, but in that instance her face was twisted into pure unadulterated rage that made her utterly terrifying

‘Running off on your own, stealing food, causing a ruckus, you’re supposed to be young nobles not gutter rats’

Both Helga and Giesla immediately bowed their heads. Helga spoke for them ‘We’re sorry, governess. We were bored and we…’

‘Oh, so you were bored were you?’ Henriette’s shrill voice went even higher, ‘your Phrycian lessons not good enough for you? Tell me, what would happen if every person in your father’s camp just wandered off on a whim when they were bored?’

‘It would be anarchy, governess’ Giesla muttered, her eyes still low in shame

‘You’re coming home right now’ Henriette bellowed in fury and snatched up Helga’s arm, before spotting Drake, ‘and who in the name of Darka is this?’

‘That’s Drake Bluelake’ Said Giesla, sending Drake a nasty smile knowing that she had done the exact thing he had asked her not to, ‘he asked us not to tell anyone who he was’

‘Another Highborn? You’re coming with us too young man’

Before Drake could do anything, he was swept up by one of the Bravi. A few hours later, he was in the camp standing alone in the centre of a circle of tents, the twins having been given over to their mother for discipline. Drake waited, unsure of what was going to happen to him. It was then that the flap of the tent in front of him opened up and out of stepped the largest man that Drake had ever seen, dressed in a simple black doublet.

The man towered over the small figure, before smiling and kneeling down

‘Who are you then?’

The boy gave his most perfect bow, knowing it was useless to hide his identity now. “I'm Drake Bluelake Heir of House, milord Imperial Marshal … ? You *are* the Imperial Marshal, right? I heard you were tall, but, I'd never have imagined…” his blue eyes looked fearlessly into William's “You must be able to see very far, milord.”

William chuckled at the boy’s words. ‘I can indeed boy. Helga tells me that you wish to join the army and fight alongside the countess Tyra? I can bring you to her, but our paths might not cross for some time. Until then, would you like to travel with me and be a part of my retinue?’

Drake couldn't believe his luck. He wasn't being sent back! The boy smiled one of his big smiles and assumed the position of one of William's guards. “I’m at your service, milord! And I don't want to be a guest, make me work to earn my stay, sir - milord” he hesitated a bit, considering his options regarding his family “But could you send a letter to Lady Tyra telling her where I am?”

‘As you wish, I shall send the letter presently’

2nd July

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Luarin Bowker

As the sun sets from the sky, take a drink and remember Him. Our great Emperor. For without him, we would see no sun as Lurians. Do not stop at just you, treat your men to an ale. It is Lurian gold we use, and not D'Haran. Luria Nova has always provided, and it is faith in our Empire - our Emperor - that has always made this so. Let not your thoughts be poisoned, but rejoice. Perfection and peace are but things to strive for. We will never truly have either - but our good Suzerain Emperor Aldrakar Renodin is our best hope of finding it.

Long live the Emperor, long live the Empire!

The Queen raise her glass seconding Lady Isabella words.

Long live the Emperor, long live the Empire! My arms are yours, as long as you need it. My weapons, Lords and knights, will fight at your side as one.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Rejoice, the Emperor returns!" - could be heard from outside the Heir's Gate windows. Myr pulled out his ocarina and whistled the melody of the Imperial March.

Autumn Evening -- Dantooine

Kiran Mir-Ashtan

The Diversion of Nid Tek - Sunset

The sun sat low on the horizon, the sunrise had not faired them well as Kiran contemplated events still within his armour. Gambeson beneath chest and armpieces of chainmail, Splinted vambraces and grieves and his head coifed with a basinet as his helm. As was expected he carried his shield adorned his family crest, at least the shield was somewhat fine. The armour was rough and scratched it had survived the test of time and experienced patches, some of which were relatively new.

His sword had been rendered useless during one of numerous battles within Matten Dews and he still had time to wait before a commission could be completed, given he would need to spend time with a smith to have it balanced appropriately. For now, he had decided to employ a hand axe to aid him in the melee and joined his retinue in the deployment of ranged weaponry through the use of Javelin's at least in the case of not engaging in the melee he could keep his arm fresh. He hoped a strategic retreat after causing some damage to the monster herds would at least buy time for his allies to make preparations. They had lost the Imperial Marshal, he did not return from the battlefield after sunrise and could well have been captured or killed and the Chancellor of Swordfell had been wounded. This just left Kiran and his Ember Helms under the Captaincy of Sevonina active in the region.

They would aim to meet the creatures of rough terrain with the intentions of using it to prevent the pursuit after engaging the creatures, though Kiran and Sevonina knew they would of course suffer casualties and likely fatalities in the battle.

The engagement would begin with the group closing with a moderate distance of the creatures, where his most accurate members of the retinue would engage with longer ranged weapons. It seemed that they were in luck as a large cluster numbering around twenty six beasts of a quite sizeable nature, suffered a single casualty likely extenuated as the creature was crushed under its fellows hooves. Though the continued to close as his retinue began their second volley which once again scored another casualty under those same hooves.

The Monsters unorderly mass made up three reasonable clusters on the field of battle, the front made up of the two herds. One the aforementioned twenty six strong herd, with a nearby thirteen strong group of smaller monsters. For the melee engagement Kiran had dispatched Sevonina with a well armoured section of the retinue to prevent encirclement as he remained with the rest and their peltasts to focus on the larger beasts.

The biggest of the creatures bore down on Kiran's remnants as they closed to melee, javelins met with the creatures causing wounds to adorn their body and most fortunately bringing the largest of the large group to its four knees. Kiran supported by his men were able to swiftly dispatch such a wounded creature with axe, spear and small blade. It seemed luck was on their side as the creatures swiftly descended into panic and routed from the battlefield. Luck however did not side well with Sevonina and her section, they struggled against the smaller creatures whom had engaged them in melee swiftly tearing apart a number of the unit. However, there job was done and casualties were building up. In a sense, it was the human's retreating for the hills. The battle had cost them ten of their thirty strong forces during this battle, though they had been able to carry out seven of their wounded in time.

Though now Kiran would have to track himself down a new main weapon, he had been left with but a knife after lodging the axe in the creatures skull. It at least served its use for its time...

3rd July

Autumn Day -- Dantooine

Goriad Gabanus

Goriad was impressed that she was aware of who he was "Lady Andrasta, it is a pleasure to meet you," he said as he made a short bow "I will escort you to the Emperor. Is there by any chance an Imperial army on its way to secure us a safe exit from Girich?"

As they walked towards the hiding place Goriad could not help himself "Milady, if I may ask, in what way are you related to Cador Andrasta?"

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

Tyra walked drawing shallow breaths on account of her ribs and feeling slightly uncomfortable at being treated so courteously. She was also noticing her savior's light steps, nearly silent, and constant, though discreet, vigilance.

"The army is rallying in Mattan Dews. But since the monsters are starting to travel there... Maybe they won't even come. As for King Cador, I don't really know to what degree we are related. My grandfather lived a long time in the South Islands, and he was an Andrasta... Sennianus was his name. I grew up at the Andrasta manor in Beluaterra... Or rather, outside of it." With a little amusement she said "Sennianus the Mad, grandfather to Tyra Thunderborn, what a bloodline we make..."

The hideout was cleverly devised. Branches were arranged in a way to conceal a camp made between two large boulders. The Emperor's tent was ahead but Tyra preferred going to the fire to grab some food and drink. She'd never met him outside the battlefield... Maybe now was not the time either.

"Earl Goriad, tell me, where did you learn to walk like that? Are you a hunstman?"

Goriad Gabanus

Goriad smiled at Tyra "Sennianus the Mad, I believe I have seen his name somewhere before although I am uncertain where. I am certain stories about such a man should provide interesting conversation. I do hope he was not like Arkady R the mad here upon Dwilight," and he continued walking until she asked him if he was a huntsman.

"A huntsman milady? At times when it is needed, although my scouts usually do so for me. No I grew up in Rettlevile milady and was there when the great hordes ran over the western kingdoms. One is either to adapt, or perish in the darkest of times. When stars shine bright in the sky, they serve as a reminder of the times when men has lost its way, when we have brought disharmony to this world and we have always been punished severely for it," he sighed for a moment "Look around you milady, only those able to adapt will survive."

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

Tyra looked around the camp, and yes, she could see how each tent had been deliberately set up as to cover an entrance, fire pits doubled as gathering points and strategic traps for wandering beasts. These people knew what they were doing.

"I see what you mean, by adapting. While I've grown up around beasts and undead myself, it was never leading soldiers or servants... As children we'd just climb trees, hide in holes. But you seem to have both the huntsman skill to move discreetly and the strategy to keep a larger group safe." She frowned "But as for disharmony and punishment... Punishment for what? And isn't disharmony just another face of harmony? Like destruction is necessary so there can be construction? Endlessly cycling?"

She was trying to make sense of this against the lessons on Tor she got from Karibash.

Goriad Gabanus

As Tyra spoke, Goriad looked at the young women with a look of intrigue "Do they no longer teach the words of the Holy Prophet Seoras in his homelands?" he responded. "When he died and returned to us, he had seen the truth of our world. The bloodstars in the air do not simply strengthen our emotions, they seem to do so with a cause," but just as he attempted to explain the theory, one of his scouts ran in yelling "They are coming milord, Lurian soldiers, they are coming!"

Goriad looked at Tyra again, "Perhaps another time then milady. Shall we meet the men and guide them to their SEmperor. He has been healing and my healers have cared for his wounds, so hopefully he'll have the strength once more to address the men."

Goriad, 55 years of age now looked at the young lady in front of him "how youth travels quickly," he thought as he smiled and turned to the scout who had entered "Bring them to us, we will see if the Suzerain Emperor is able to address them."

Emyhr le Craint

As camp settled in Girich, the men began the process of distributing rations and drink for the benefit of the Empire. A scout returned back to Emyhr's tent, who was stood there with Captain Gustaf marking points of interest into the map itself.

"Sir Emyhr, we have located the Emperor. His is the care of Earl Goriad of Ashrak, a nobleman from Swordfell."

Emyhr looked upon the scout for a moment, the face of disbelief for a second before vanishing into t determined look. Grabbing his equipment and an assortment of fine good that were brought to Girich with him.

"Gustaf, prepare to mount. We must reach the Emperor at once. In addition, we must thank Earl Goriad for the care he has provided for our glorious Emperor."

Stepping out the tent, he called over one of the stablehands that has come along with the group.

"Bring the two fastest horses at once."

The young boy rushed off to where a few horses had been mounted, bringing back to stallions adorned with a rough looking saddle and replaced it with Emyhr's personal saddle. Clambering onto the horse, Emyhr began to set off into the direction that the scout pointed out on the map. Captain Gustaf was struggling to catch up, Emyhr was riding at such a pace it would seem as if he was gliding across the ground.

Finally reaching the location as to where the Emperor, Earl Goriad and Countess Tyra had been camped. Upon reaching the entrance to the camp, he dismounted the horse and approached a guard standing by.

"I am Sir Emyhr Le Craint of Poryatu, Vice-Marshal of Iuvenilis Attingas Parvulorum, Currently overseeing the liberation of Girich back under Lurian control. My scout tells me that the Emperor is recovering here. I wish to seek audiance with Earl Goriad Gabanus and check on the condition of his eminence Emperor Aldrakar Renodin. I bring supplies and goods as tribute, both as a gift and also to resupply your camp."

Aldrakar Renodin

Walking out of the tent Aldrakar was dressed for travel. Little time was afforded to either friend or foreigner or even native Lurians. Horse! The command boomed from his lips and with purpose he took the reigns and hoisted himself into the saddle. Goriad! The silver City, seek me there, there is business I must attend to. Excellent healers by the way. This'll be a nice scar to remember. His mount pawed the ground. Dame Tyra! You, are also required. Do not be late.

With that the Emperor rode off and trailing behind where but a few retainers and officials scrambling to keep up.

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

At the Emperor's outbursting exit, Tyra turned to Goriad, sharing a dumbfounded look and laughed. "Well, I suppose he got better and we should be going! Want to join me on the road to Askileon? I'm not from Luria, I have really little knowledge of whatever the stars are." she winked "You can tell me. Apparently I'm learning about all the religions of Luria, don't really know why!"

As she readied to leave camp, she noticed Sir Emyhr dumfounded by the Emperor's exit just the same.

Bennet Selemnir

Bennet rode through the city of Askileon. He was surprised to find the colours more vivid. The buildings more immense. It was funny the way knowing death would do that to a man. Even one so practical as him.

Captain Haldred joined him. The man had been by his side since his ascension to Marshal, and he valued his opinion. As well as his friendship, though that was less willingly given, Bennet could admit.

Bennet had woken into a Luria that seemed very different. He was not sure if that was the course of events while he was abed, or if it was him. It did not matter, in the end. He would do what he must to maintain the order he was used to. Whatever the result.

His horse shifted awkwardly. Haldred put his hand on Bennet's shoulder. He was about to admonish the man, but softened. If Haldred could intentionally ignore the blood suddenly leaking through his chest mail, he could ignore the man's impropriety. And even appreciate it. He was not sure he could stand without it, both metaphorically and physically.

Bennet gritted his teeth as the harbour came into view. He dreaded the ferry, but appreciated the time it afforded. He would stand as tall as before when he rejoined the army.

Until then, he leaned into Haldred's hand just a little harder.

4th July

Autumn Evening -- Nid Tek

Ashley Piper

What a naughty bunch these Lurians, so passionate and direct. Good stuff, I will fit nicely here.

5th July

Autumn Evening -- Askileon Purlieus

Jonsu

A young woman emerged from the catacombs of Askileon, and squinted in the bright daylight. Her copper red hair shone in the light, and her stunning green eyes adapted slowly. She clutched a crude mace, and wore bits of cheap leather armor, and was covered in rotten bits of viscera. She made her way to a public fountain, and washed herself and her gear, drawing stares from the gathered public. She felt a firm hand grasp her shoulder and spin her about. She gasped, and withdrew somewhat from the Imperial Guardsman.

"By what right do you carry arms, and stink up the square with this rot? Ye belong back home, working the fields and popping out children." The guard growled. One of his compatriots jeered, and chimed in,

"I'll take her home Sergeant, and show her how it's properly done, that I will!"

The young lady glared at the guard, trying not to show that his grip was hurting her.

"My name is Jonsu, and I am a Royal Ranger, you will..." her sentence was cut short by a cry of pain as the guard slapped her across the face.

"You must be out of yer mind, claiming that name. Perhaps we should show you what we thi... ARG!" The guard hollered as Jonsu brought her knee into his groin. She whirled out of his grasp and raised her mace and buckler. She snarled at the guardsmen, but inside she knew that she was in trouble if she had to handle this alone.

7th July

Autumn Evening -- Santoo

Sofia Nistalia

The infection took her toll on her, every day was filled with a mix of agony and sorrow as she felt her own body decay, praying to the gods for the illness to go away as the healers treated her wounds. Every day she fought against the infection, her skin turning pale and constantly drenched in sweat, covered in nothing more than blood-stained rags, the viscountess fought against the demons within her. As the infection spread, she removed her withered left eye in her delirious state, yelling insults to the gods before falling unconscious.

And then, clarity. After weeks of treatment, the healers gasped at what seemed like a miracle. One morning, they entered Sofia's tent to find her standing, her legs shaking but with enough strenght to stand. Her skin still pale, and drenched in sweat and dried blood stained her garbs.

"Bring me captain Adric and those still loyal. He's been recieving my letters, and I've been idle for too long."

The healers blinked, immediatly rushing to bring the handful of men still left with her. There was a hint of purpose amongst the sick words of Sofia, a spark of determination re-ignited by sheer will to live.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"My Lord, we should march out. Orders from Marshal, requests from Grand Panetiere, matters of the order..." - captain pleaded.

Myr interrupted him harshly - "is Sir Emyhr recovered?"

"Not to the best of my knowledge." - was the answer that earned stern silence and unflinching resolve. Captain knew then and there that Myr would not allow hordes to capture his wounded friend. Indeed he would stand against monsters, undead, legendary Zuma creatures or Tor himself. Not with his dying breath would he leave without care for a brother in arms.

Nicholas Archival

The day of Nid Tek's Harvest Festival arrives, centred in the lakeside estate of Ambervale. The hustle and bustle of the common peasantry, blended with the region's minor aristocracy and merchant class, makes for a colourful and warming scene. Despite the most recent hardships suffered, the people appear determined to enjoy their celebration without pause nor restraint - in dark times, the light is to be savoured. The town itself is awash with stands, pavilions and all manner of assorted festivities.

Farmers and salesmen from far and wide ply their trade, to showcase and sell the fruits of their labours. Wealthy vineyard owners present a plethora of vintages, each more expensive and renowned than the last. The more industrious of the populace have crafted entertainment for the region's children, with puppet shows and small rides dotted throughout the fields surrounding the settlement.

Within the town centre, a stage has been erected from finely sculpted oak. It appears to have been built for the purposes of any speeches or cultural traditions. Before it is the fairly sizeable square of Ambervale, whereupon several workers and builders continue the final plans for one key portions of the celebrations and festivities - any peasants consulted may reveal that it is for the 'Fertility Dance', which is probably less practical than the terminology suggests.

All in all, it is well in keeping with traditional, rural festivals, with all the trappings one might suspect. However, there is a certain added grandeur and wealth to the occasion, no doubt supplied by the frequent investments of Earl Nicholas' own family. For those lofty aristocrats of Luria in attendance, there are plush and comfortable quarters arranged within the manor that sits atop a nearby hill, surrounded by warm, golden fields. Nicholas himself, however, seems to not be in obvious attendance; word suggests he is moving about the town, ensuring that everything is moving along smoothly - a true administrator, in every scenario.

8th July

Autumn Day -- Nid Tek

Emyhr le Craint

As the morning sun rose over the horizon, the silence that follows in the aftermath of a battle remained. Emyhr, after briefly regaining consiousness, sat up and began to eat a meal that had been prepared for him. He looked out over the tents and rolling green hills of Santoo, thinking to himself before he made any action.

"Gustaf, you nearby?" Emyhr shouted from his tent, trying to stand and move before a burely man rushed in and assisted the knight to his feet.

"Sir Emyhr, it is good to see you are moving but you are still wounded. You must rest." Gustaf looked upon Emyhr's face with concern recalling the memories from the battle the previous day.

"We must leave, these letters you have piled up have called for movement. Whats the status of the men? Can you retrieve them all?"

"Most have scattered inorder to hide, I will send out scouts to retrieve them all then we can move."

"Wait, have you heard news about Sir Myr? While my memory is hazy, I remember seeing the Redmanes on the battlefield."

"They remain in Santoo. A messengers have come by to check on your condition, I believe they stayed to assist and ensure your recovery."

"That Sir Myr is a fine man, I must send a letter to inform him of the situation and so that we can prepare to move back to safety. Make sure the men are ready and I shall begin to write."

Captain Gustaf left the tent while leaving Emyhr sat at the makeshift table that had been set up for bandages and medical supplies. Moving them away, he began to write.

Tyler

A barded horse came trotting into Ambervale that day, its rider a man of great proportions. It was as if someone had shaved a bear, and put it upon a pony as one of the festivities acts. Clad head-to-toe with arms and armour near indistinguishable from the nobilities own, save the lack of coats of arms, this impressive looking warrior peered about the town square with glee. Haven't been to one of these in years, I wonder if the Tekian lasses hold up to their reputation.

Stabling his horse at a common tavern, the adventurer made his way through the twisting labyrinth of stalls and colourful arrays, soaking up the vigour and enthusiasm displayed by the locals. He was clearly out of place, as the locals could tell when one of their own was foreign, and it was rare for the common folk to leave their own villages often. A mixture of anxiety, curiousity and no doubt fear exuded from the people he passed by, whether or not he was offering them friendly greeting and a smile. This was the lot of an adventurer; suspicion from the common folk, disdain from the noble folk. But Luria was different, it was not always this cut and dry, as could be seen in the festival itself. He was not hounded away, from either parties, nor was he being watched so closely by the guard who kept an eye on proceedings.

His eye was caught by one of the stalls. A glovemaker, with some decent leatherwork on display. Tyler looked down at his own pair, worn and torn from battle and hardship on the roads. He then looked toward his coin purse, heavy with gold that was gathered from ancient catacombs and waterlogged caves in Poryatown. Shrugging, he approached and paid the man to fix his gloves whilst he was here. What's a festival without a bit of shopping? That's when the sight of the Earl puttering about the merrymaking, caught his attention. He lofted a bushy brow at that, and before he could think twice he was stalking up to the man, armed to the teeth and looming like some executioner. Tyler was not overly tall despite his appearance, but the fact he was barrel chested and built for combat made him out to be quite a bit bigger than he was. No doubt the armour helped as well.

"My liege, I would speak with you a moment!"

Nicholas Archival

In an effort to finalise the plans, so that every facet of the Festival was in fine fettle, Nicholas continued to tour the town. Many of the local common-folk beamed as he passed them by, and before long the small retinue that followed in his wake were laden will all manner of gifts; from the ripest fruit to the sturdiest boot, he accepted it all with a warm magnanimity. Even his cloak, coloured a sunburst of Autumnal amber was a prize from his favoured tailor - it certainly paid to maintain close and friendly ties with Ambervale's finest artisans.

As he strode through the streets, often pausing to exchange pleasantries with the attendees of the festival, the Earl fell to a halt, in order to respond to the call that rang near.

"My liege, I would speak with you a moment!"

The man was large, and imposing, and Nicolas was briefly taken aback by such a hardy appearance. Where he wore comfortable leathers and cloths, the man bore his armour with rugged finesse. At first glance, he was stricken by the memories of his family's master-at-arms, Sir Roderick, but that quickly subsided. Without further ado, he turned to properly regard the adventurer - for that was clearly his trade.

"You have your moment, adventurer," he replied, though not unkindly. "What is it you wish?"

Tyler

"You have your moment, adventurer," he replied, though not unkindly. "What is it you wish?" - Nicholas Archival

Tyler offered a curt bow, hardly practiced for such an occasion. "My name is Tyler," he paused mid introduction, face frozen as if time itself had stopped briefly, unable or unknowing how to continue. Clearing his throat, he smiled weakly; "Tyler of Poryatown, landed freeman and Lurian ranger. At your service. I just wanted to express my heartfelt gratitude for this occasion. It's not often the common folk can have respite from the daily struggle." He sighed, either relieved from his attempt at saving face or at the thought of his countrymen celebrating together in peace and prosperity. It was pretty clear which was the truth though. "I don't want to keep you, since you are clearly busy with the festivities." Retreating a few steps, he repeated the same sloppy etiquette as before. "With your grace, I would take my leave now. Should you require the services of a ranger, I would be honoured to be considered for the post."

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas peered at Tyler with mild amusement, as the peasant began to stumble over his initial introduction. It was not uncommon for commoners to forget their station, before hastily scrambling to prevent any further insult or offence - in truth, it did not bother him particularly, and so to see them panic was an entertaining display. Retreating a few steps, he repeated the same sloppy etiquette as before. "With your grace, I would take my leave now. Should you require the services of a ranger, I would be honoured to be considered for the post." - Tyler

With those parting words, as the adventurer began to make his escape from an awkward situation of his own making, the Earl inclined his head - just enough to show recognition. "Enjoy the Festival, Freeman Tyler. It is for all Lurians, even men who favour the caves and crypts over tilling the fields," he replied. "But do not stray too far; I foresee myself having use of the services of a man like yourself soon."

When the barrel-chested man had finally departed, Nicholas continued throughout the streets, this time headed toward his manor. Perhaps one of the noble guests had arrived; Staedtler or William, maybe. Of the two, he hoped for Staedtler.

9th July

Autumn Day -- Nid Tek

William Fitz Roberts

William arrives at the festival

William rode towards the centre of Ambervale, flanked by his wife, Anne, and his cousin, Marc Antonio. Just behind him were his daughters and Manfred, each on their own pony. His daughters rode well, Manfred not so well. He hoped the boy would grow into it, but somehow he doubted it. A week spent in an orcish cell had really put a perspective on things. William needed time away from campaigns, time to spend with his family. The letter from the Dean had given him this: he would spend the next month conducting a survey of the entirety of the Empire. He had already arranged leave with his marshal and the Imperial Constable and was quite looking forward to it. After that, he had his renovations of the poor quarter to be getting along with. But at this moment, he wanted to enjoy the sun and the festive atmosphere. A week in a dark, damp pit makes one really miss the sun

As he rode up the main road, he spied the Imperial Magistrate talking to a tall warrior-type. He turned back to his wife

‘You go on with the children, I have some business to attend to’

‘Daddy, why couldn’t Drake come with us?’ Helga asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

‘As I have already told you he is earning his keep by helping Leonardo polish the weapons in the armoury, you can play with him later’

Helga looked sad, but rode on with her mother anyway. Marc Antonio stayed, looking down in thought

‘You want me to stay William?’

‘If you wish, Marc’. William got off his horse, but saw that Nicholas had already finished his conversation and apparently hadn’t noticed him. Leading his horse by the reigns he followed the Magistrate as he rounded a corner and called out

‘Imperial Magistrate, a word if I may?’

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Yearly harvest festival in Nid Tek welcomes thee, traveller!" - if the written word could shout, the signpost on the market square would be yelling at the top of it's lungs. Myr did not mind. A bit of cheerfulness was desperately needed after recent year full of strife and sorrow. It did feel like the entire realm was on edge, about to burst into flames. Would a keg of Tekian ale quench the embers before they combust?

Myr grabbed a tankard from a nearby table as he rode on, not even bothering to dismount. Contrary to most of his peers, who practiced melee combat for practical reasons, he spent the few free moments he had on practice of horse riding and jousting. The finest knights of the epic tales were the ones on horseback - feeling at home in the saddle, wielding a formidable lance, shining bright and stealing longing sighs from maidens.

He flicked a coin for the stand owner and pointed his horse towards the center of the square, where jugglers and fire dancers were giving a show.

Nicholas Archival

As Nicholas continued his stroll through the streets of the town, a voice rang out to stop him in his tracks:

‘Imperial Magistrate, a word if I may?’ - William

He turned, with a quirked brow, to regard the speaker - Sir William. Even from afar, the man's towering build was apparent, as he awaited his approach. The gods had chosen to send him William for company, instead of Staedtler, but no doubt the man had important words to share; and, as ever, Nicholas was curious to hear them.

"Well-met, Sir William," Nicholas replied with a crisp bow of his head. "Of course, let us walk."

With that, he gestured for the two of them to continue walking up and along the street, ever in the direction of the manor. The cacophony of sounds was perhaps most loud here, down in the depths of the town, and so he continued moving toward the manor, where the voices began to recede and they could speak without such impediments.

"I am glad you could make it to the Festival; the Tekians stock great pride in this event. But I'm sure you would rather cut through the pleasantries. What do you wish to speak about?"

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Staedtler la Stylo

Staedtler was craning over a tradesman's market counter, signing delivery orders whilst running his fingers through the braided silver chains around his collar. The market was aflutter with business, music, swallow song and the unforgettable sound of coin hitting woodwork at every corner. At his feet sat baskets and boxes from today's trade, crowding his ankles like puppies, yet Staedtler had his head facing down. His eyes were lacing through the literature, his pen-hand looming above the dotted line, whilst the young carpenter coaxed it forth with practiced charm.

The handsome man idly twirled one of his ribboned dreadlocks like a dancer's cane, fanning waves of perfume into the earl's face. He spoke highly of the purchased bedroom set, his words placing more value upon the novelty of exotics over the trustworthiness of the traditional. Apostrophes and unpronounceable phlegm over oak and leather.

Staedtler ground his teeth tighter upon every stretch of the imagination he boasted. His forced, knife-blade smirk weakened evermore, and the keen-eyed carpenter noticed, and persisted further, with even more violently blunt enthusiasm. He had either began lying, or was blissfully unaware that he sounded as such. Judging from his expertise, Staedtler knew he was unlikely to be ignorant in such a close trade.

The man had seen the earl at his table, prey upon the moors, and went straight in for the kill, blades raised. However, he was sending bloodhounds out to hunt the butterflies here, and the wings of Staedtler's interest were caught adrift by other things.

Staedtler kept shooting his eye over his shoulder.

The carpenter noticed this, and leaned in close upon his elbows.

"By all means, my lord, take all the time you need," said the carpenter. "I am as patient as the stars. It's not as if I have my heart set on anything else aside from hosting happy customers today, anyway."

"I understand, my friend," Staedtler said with a stir in his voice. "My life is numbers and nonsense, so I do like to keep my eye on my money."

"Ah, yes. Money." The carpenter chuckled through a closed mouth. "What a beautiful, impatient thing. Can burn holes in pockets, y'see. No matter the coin or the coffer; silver and gold, burlap and silk."

"A bit of merchant's wisdom across the counter? And here I thought I was buying a four-poster," Staedtler joked.

"Indeed. But I see your arms are full already; fruit baskets, jewelry boxes, trinkets and gizmos." He pointed up and down Staedtler's carry. "Hence the need for the delivery, eh? No room for my wisdom or my furniture."

Staedtler pulled the pen from the paper and stood. The carpenter mirrored him in suit, almost mockingly.

"So, i'll be a good host, and give you some of my wisdom that you can fit in your silken pockets." He lowered his voice to a hoarse, crisp groan, as if the gravel beneath Staedtler's feet was talking. "Money can buy many things, but it cannot buy time. Neither can time buy money. Do not be fooled though, they are brothers; two sides of the same coin. For both, in the end, are either spent poorly, or not at all."

Staedtler bit his tongue and held his temper. He watched the strange man, but his smokey eyes were not meeting him. Instead, they were off and over Staedtler's shoulder.

"Now, my fair lord, buy the damn chair, and go and put your arm round your lady's waist." He pushed the paper back toward the earl with fingers splayed out like spider legs. "Spend your currencies well, my fair lord. This is Nid Tek, after all. There are no bad deals. Just make sure you know what you're buying."

10th July

Autumn Morning -- Poryatu

William Fitz Roberts

William and Nicholas

‘I am glad I could make it too, nearly a year spent on campaign with the final week spent in gaol really makes you appreciate the simpler life.’ At this William subconsciously rubbed his shoulder wincing at the pain there. ‘I’m in no rush, Nicholas, I have come to enjoy the festival and spend some much needed time with my daughters’

William smiled as he witnessed the hustle and bustle of the festival before they moved into quieter streets. William was not wearing his usual military garb, which he had worn all campaign. Those who knew William would be aware that he normally came to events such as these in his ceremonial armour and so would be surprised that he had chosen a fine black doublet instead, the only adornments being a chain that denoted him as the Grand Master of the Ordo Volpes. The only items that suggested his military leanings were his schiavona, a highly decorative and ceremonial piece made of aestian steel, and its accompanying parrying dagger. Unbeknownst to anyone, he also had a smaller dagger tucked into his boot and a stiletto concealed in his sleeve. One could never be too careful. He contrasted greatly with his cousin, Marc Antonio, who was wearing an incredibly garish gold cuirass and equally garish scarlet doublet underneath

‘But yes to my purpose. As you may or may not be aware, I have been commissioned to write some military studies for the University, which will take up much of my time. I also have planned some grand renovations to Little Poryatown. In short I have no time to be marching up and down the Empire at the present on military campaigns. I have therefore decided to try my hand at bureaucracy, at least for a time until I am ready to return to active military duties’ William smiled and looked at the Magistrate

‘No doubt I have shocked you with such a decision?’

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas nodded along at the appropriate intervals, as they moved through the cobbled streets. Many of the peasantry gave the two noblemen a wide berth, a natural show of respect for their station, while others offered a warm chorus of "M'lords". In a similar manner to William, the Earl also bore a weapon; a finely-crafted arming sword - although its sheath was adorned with silver, it seemed not to simply be ceremonial.

‘But yes to my purpose. As you may or may not be aware, I have been commissioned to write some military studies for the University, which will take up much of my time. I also have planned some grand renovations to Little Poryatown. In short I have no time to be marching up and down the Empire at the present on military campaigns. I have therefore decided to try my hand at bureaucracy, at least for a time until I am ready to return to active military duties’ William smiled and looked at the Magistrate

‘No doubt I have shocked you with such a decision?’ - William

As the former Imperial Marshal drew to his point, Nicholas found himself peering at the man. While William had ever been a man predisposed to violence, he had also often and fervently expressed interests in matters of academia. It was not too surprising then, he surmised, that he had reached such a decision.

"There is no glory to be found as a bureaucrat," he began, "But you never struck me as a man who seeks glory as a priority. I'll have to disappoint you though, William; I'm not greatly shocked. Slightly, perhaps, but not much more. It is my understanding that you serve as and where you feel most useful. I may often disagree with your conclusions about what constitutes useful, but I wouldn't deny that... and - as it stands - the realm does need more courtiers."

Nicholas released a breathy exhale. He paused a moment, their conversation diverted by a plump, finely-attired merchant toddling in their direction. After the exchange of pleasantries and the promise of visiting the man's stall, the Earl continued.

"I do not blame them, of course, but many act as though they believe glory on the battlefield is the best and only way to serve the empire. As you no doubt agree, it is not. Our cities and regions still need to work; to produce. The Amelioration Brigade could use all the help it can get."

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Solomon Greybrook

Family on Distant Shores

As Solomon sat on horseback travelling to Nid Tek, many wondrous and unnerving situations had occurred since the previous month. From defending the IAP's expedition into the South Divide, to releasing the Greybrook Guard back into their traditional role and his ascension to lord of Dantooine, there was a lot of transition. Arguably, the worst part of the last few weeks was the captain of The Exalted Arbalests personality. It was no secret that Captain Semund did not get along with him initially. A man of ego vs a man of selflessness. Solomon firmly believed that the Captain of the Greybrook Guard was a man that one could not easily emulate - the Captain Semund only cemented his view.

However, this had begun to change, much like the seasons. While Solomon was impressed with the Arbalests as a whole, they still needed to improve. They slowly becoming a tighter knit unit - which was seen by the friendly banter when resting in camp. There was no doubt about the Arbalest's ability - their capability to support IAP armies was far superior to the revised Greybrook Guard. Nevertheless, something inside Solomon missed the comradely that came from fighting shoulder to shoulder. At first, the elite nature of his unit almost unnerved him. The size too was strange to Solomon. Used to large groups of men, the change of atmosphere had led Solomon to almost master the name of every man and woman's voice in his unit upon it's tone. This comradely nature of this smaller unit made each loss even harder for the companions to bear at points. Additionally, when front lines broke, the Arbalests were ranged troops after all.

Rather melancholy about the whole affair, the townsland came into view. Another fight was yet to come before the ferry to Giask. Another few days before his summon to the family townhouse in the city.

An hour away from the townsland, a messenger came to his scribe and presented to him a short letter from a family member from a distant shore - Ferdinand. A small smirk came to his face as he read the letter. The odd joke and short pieces of information that played between the lines showed that he was well but on campaign for the majority of the time.

Much like himself.

Solomon ordered one of his retinue to find a spare Arbalest and for it to be sent to Ferdinand at once. How long it may take to reach Ferdinand may be unknown. Regardless, the jibes that the two sent each-other were often looked back in fondness. He may find it amusing that Solomon had to "re-master" the Arbalest again.

Maybe one day they may unite again.

But first, the battle has was to take place once the sun had vanished beyond the horizon.

William Fitz Roberts

William listened to Nicholas carefully, nodding at his words

‘Those who seek personal glory do not, and cannot, ever truly serve the Empire. Anyone who thinks glory is their primary goals in life are not only foolish, but dangerous for they can put their fellow Lurians at risk by foolishly rushing ahead or insisting on one “glorious” charge. If I had my way, such nobles would be sent back home’ He sighed, ‘In any case, we all must serve however we are able and I am willing to learn new ways of doing so’

William paused to purchase an apple from a nearby fruit seller. The peasant tried to give it to him for free, but William insisted on paying three times its real worth. He bit into it before continuing

‘I always wonder why people think that glory can be found on the battlefield. Anywhere with that much sh*t cannot be a place of glory. Interesting how the minstrels and poets and historians always forget to mention the sh*t. I guess for some it is the only way we can get them to go to war. Ah well, nothing to be done about that, there will always be vain-glorious idiots prancing about on their ponies pretending that they still don’t have spots’

He finished his apple and tossed it into a nearby pig pen. ‘Anyway, rant over. I thought to start my work in Poryatown, before moving onto Dantooine. Would that serve?’

Nether Leroux

[1]

The moons gentle rays of silver light lit the way for Nether and his horse, the touch of cold winds caressed his cheeks as they reached the top of the slope and stopped to watch the world for a brief moment before moving down towards Askileon, his first stop on his journey to Lady Issabella Pavus. He walked alongside his horse Marcus, an unimportant breed from a now dead realm known as Oligarch a city of nobles that dared defy and survive just because they could although sometimes Nether thought the whole situation had been a fools errand, the nobles and resources could've been used elsewhere but then again dreams and ideals are far more relevant than reason.

Together upon arrival to Dwilight they settled in Westfold, a realm of warriors until the realm was destroyed and Nether moved to Westgard. From there he 'borrowed' the gold of the rogue regions, now borrowed might seem like a polite way of saying stole but Nether was and always had been taught good manners so in order to avoid upsetting others he always said he borrowed things. After such, he was hired to work in Astrum as a knight and finally in Swordfell to help in the realms restoration.

"Come Marcus, we'll arrive at Askileon shortly...I'll take an estate and move closer to the heart of the Empire of Luria Nova..." he paused in his footstep, lost in thought. Marcus pulled at the reign desiring to keep going. "Oh..sorry...this time I come to a place I know little of..I do it of my own accord..odd how when you choose your own path it becomes that much more scarier...but then again...I never was one to worry about the future...nor care for the past...just the now."

But as all stories go, the journey never ends and Nether's story was simply turning to the next chapter.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"How splendid!" - Myr thought - "The entire circus is here. Firedancers, jugglers, gymnasts... bearded women?!" - he rode on - "Great Samum! They even brought a giant... wait a second, why is he allowed to casually chat up the Imperial Magistrate? And why is he dressed so... ahh, could it be?!"

Myr rode on, slowly taking off his gauntlet.

11th July

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Emyhr le Craint

Arrival at Harvest Festitval

Emyhr's journey back to Nid Tek had been a tough journey, Emyhr had not yet fully recovered from his injury so instead of his usual attendant, he had brought one of his personal healers to assist him in his recovery. Luckily, he was a few hours ride from his home in Poryatu so did not have to worry too much about where he was to stay.

Arriving at the festival grounds, what first hit Emyhr was the smell. The air was filled with the aroma of the different food stalls and festival shops. Walking through the 'Entrance' Emyhr could feel the stares of the people around him, a mix of admiration and fear as many had heard about his escapades both as a noble and a hero.

As they passed by the different stalls, in the distance he could see the former Imperial Marshal and the current Imperial magistrate having a in depth conversation. Knowing that Emyhr would get a chance later in the festival to meet and thank Earl Nicholas, he offered the both of them a polite nod and wave daring not to interrupt them both.

After walking for a while, Emyhr stumbles slightly but the attending healer caught him before he could fall. Finding a place to sit with a bit of privacy, he checked over his injury on his leg. The wound had opened once again, wiping away any blood the attendant replaced the bandage that was wrapped around his leg. Looking over the wound, the image of the monster slash that nearly took off his leg filled his mind again.

Emyhr called over to a local bar maid to bring over a strong drink, handing her a couple silver pieces. She returned shortly bringing a bottle of some finer local ale and a mug. Emyhr poured it into the mug, taking a long sip to wash away the pain from his leg. After a while, Emyhr returned to comfort but continued to rest enjoying the autumn sun watching the passersby at the festival.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Imperial Magistrate!" - Myr shouted now only several feet away from Nicholas and William, he was now certain that the giant was former Imperial Marshal. So the rumours were true - he thought. Myr seldomly met people taller than himself but never by such a margin.

"Long time no see my friend. I absolutely love the festival, it is precisely what we need to lift the spirits. There has been a lot of strife and uncertainty lately." - Myr outstreched his naked hand in greeting to Nicholas, not acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas, William & Myr

‘I always wonder why people think that glory can be found on the battlefield. Anywhere with that much sh*t cannot be a place of glory. Interesting how the minstrels and poets and historians always forget to mention the sh*t. I guess for some it is the only way we can get them to go to war. Ah well, nothing to be done about that, there will always be vain-glorious idiots prancing about on their ponies pretending that they still don’t have spots’ - William

"Without bardic tales of heroism we'd scarcely have a single man up and willing to fight," Nicholas responded to William voicing his agreement. "For that reason I do not begrudge them. I felt much the same way, until my rush to prove myself left too many good men injured - or worse."

‘Anyway, rant over. I thought to start my work in Poryatown, before moving onto Dantooine. Would that serve?’ - William

With a thoughtful hum, the Earl gave momentary thought to William's words, before nodding once in assent. "Poryatown is a good place for you to start, and Dantooine is certainly in need--" he began, before a new voice caught his sentence at the midway point.

"Imperial Magistrate!"

"Long time no see my friend. I absolutely love the festival, it is precisely what we need to lift the spirits. There has been a lot of strife and uncertainty lately." - Myr

After a flash of confusion at the abrupt entrance of the man, recognition bloomed within him and Nicholas reached out to firmly grasp Myr's outstretched hand. Although he realised the discomfort of the exact two worst people to be sharing a conversation with simultaneously, it was still warming to see the younger man.

"Sir Myr, I had been hoping to see you here!" he beamed, pleased. "Let's not stand on too much ceremony; Nicholas will do. I am glad it is to your enjoyment - the people of Nid Tek do not throw themselves into anything halfheartedly, I've found. And with all the strife, as you say, events like these are a bold proclamation that we will not be cowed by it."

With the new arrival to form this strangest of trios, Nicholas paused his stride to properly regard both. The raucous noise of the festival was dimmed slightly now, although many attendees and merchants alike continued to pass them by - many already stumbling jovially from the many beverages on offer.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Sir Myr, I had been hoping to see you here! Let's not stand on too much ceremony; Nicholas will do. I am glad it is to your enjoyment - the people of Nid Tek do not throw themselves into anything halfheartedly, I've found. And with all the strife, as you say, events like these are a bold proclamation that we will not be cowed by it."

Myr slid his gauntlet back on as soon as Imperial Marshal released his hand.

"Good Nicholas, of course we will not be cowed! Lions do not get cowed" - he said clapping his shoulderguard and finished with a wink - "we leave it to lesser animals."

Myr clenched the reins of his steed but another sentence froze in air unsaid as he struggled to find proper words. The sound of the celebration grew heavier as it made the silence of the gathered trio more and more obvious. It lasted for merely minutes but felt like hours to Myr, until he finally bursted - "Good Nicholas. I would like nothing more than to stay in this ambivalent company and continue our discussion but I must find Sir Emyhr, he was gravely wounded last time I saw him and I heard he also intended to attend the festival. Have you seen him by any chance?"

Myr bowed to Nicholas and pulling on the reins of his steed he walked away ushering his horse - "come Dauntless, we will show Emyhr the trick with a bucket and a horseshoe, he will love it" - but before he could disappear from view he turned around and looked William in the eye throwing - "Sir William, I hope to meet you in a more appropriate situation, there is one matter I would wish to discuss."

12th July

Autumn Day -- Dantooine

Nicholas Archival

"Good Nicholas. I would like nothing more than to stay in this ambivalent company and continue our discussion but I must find Sir Emyhr, he was gravely wounded last time I saw him and I heard he also intended to attend the festival. Have you seen him by any chance?" - Myr

Nicholas considered for a moment, before shaking his head. "One of my stewards informed me that Sir Emhyr has arrived for the festival, but I've not come across him myself yet. No doubt he's hereabouts somewhere; if I see him before you, I'll let him know of your search."

After Myr gave his farewells and departed, the Earl turned momentarily to William. "I assume this goes without saying, but I'll be hoping there's no hostility between the two of you here," he said, gesturing to the departing knight, in reference to his parting words. "Though I suppose it may add to the theatrics of the day."

With that, Nicholas gave a brief, amused smile, before straightening up. "But for now; Earth's Hall could certainly use another courtier, and should you choose that path, I would lend you any advice I can. Until then, though, I'd best return to the manor - no doubt there's some more paperwork I need to grant my seal."

Autumn Evening -- Dantooine

Luarin Bowker

Long time passed before she could meet her granddaughter and this meeting made her stay away from her duties as Queen, just enjoying the girl - now a beautiful woman - that she never thought she could hold in her arms. She could'nt have Sophia, now all she wanted was to enjoy every moment with Irina and to spoil her as her rightfull heir. irina though, still wanted adventures and it took no long for her to start travelling again.

One day Luarin was talking to Captain Jonas about the unit, when a letter from Lord Staedtler la Stylo was given to her by a boy.

Luarin Bowker, Duchess of Sun Hall, Margravine of Shinnen

My queen, Your Highness, I write to you upon this sun-bleached evening to ask you of something.

I am with your granddaughter, Irina, presently within the region of Nid Tek. We are in attendance of the Nid Tekkian harvest festival hosted by Imperial Magistrate Nicholas and are thoroughly enjoying eachother's company despite the on and off weather. Her and I met a few weeks back within Giask. Since then, I have hosted her within Shinnen Purlieus and happily accepted her accompaniment when I traveled through to Thar Gortauth for the reparation efforts.

Despite the world's best efforts to make our time together an insufferable experience, we have proven to be quite inseparable. I'm certain it will delight you to hear that she is a woman like no other, and my feelings for her are proving stronger through everything we endure.

Therefore, without a shadow of a doubt upon my heart, I would like to ask your permission to marry Irina.

With reason, Staedtler la Stylo

Earl of Shinnen Purlieus

"Irina is here?" the Queen screamed in joy. "I need to meet her", she said to her maid. "Go and make sure the fastest horse is prepared for me." Even old, Luarin still wanted to be in a horse instead of a coach.

Earl Staedtler la Stylo I am coming to meet you and Irina and will answer your letter personally."

For Luria and Sun Hall

Luarin Bowker

The letter was sent and Luarin follow it as faster as she could. She arrived at Shinnen Purileus but there was no one there and now she had orders to attack Thar Gortauth where she could die, before hugging her girl again.

My beloved Irina, I am going for a tough battle and could not leave without sending you this letter. Earl Stedtler told me you both are in love, and asked permission to marry you. I believe he already told you about his inttentions and I need to say he seems to be a good man, loyal and trustfull. If that is your wish, my darling, you have my permission and my blessing. I only hope to survive this battle to see you again. Fortunatelly, Shinnen Purileus is so close that I will be able to meet you frequently and perhaps, live enough to see my great-grandchildren. You might show this letter to Earl Staedtler if that is your wish. Be happy my dear girl.

With all my love.

Your grandma, Luarin.

She asked a maid to send the letter before leading her unit to the battlefield. A huge horde of abominations was waiting for her...

Staedtler la Stylo

The market square was humming with life; a hive of commerce which flared out through every street, criss-crossing over itself as people walked this way and that, yet never without direction or purpose. It was like some great, flawless piece of organic clockwork, working away the seconds of the day with a most definitely human charm. Staedtler was with a young woman, shoulder to shoulder, bouncing from stall to stall as interests and curiosities faltered just as quickly as the arose. Caged, hundred-colour cockatiels surrounding a pair of pipe-smoking sisters in Irvington garb; street performers building pyramids, three layers tall, out of nothing but manpower, a firm grip, and mutual trust; a man selling fireworks from his coat pockets - 'whizzers, spin-pops, sky-screamers, all the colours of the rainbow and beyond!'

This was a hellscape for someone with money to burn, and Staedtler was practically aflame with expenses.

The pair were childishly picking through the compartments of a silver and birchwood herb box as they strode the centre of the market street. Irina tasted a fingertip of some overseas flavour, paused to ponder, and started to gag and cough, face flushing red as Staedtler broke down into laughter. Once he had regained himself with a halfway apology and Irina had reset her breathing, she retaliated with a pinch of the turmeric dust into his grimacing face. They both broke into laughter once more, Staedtler's silver stained orange, and Irina's dark hair painted in patches of red.

Staedtler was handkerchiefing the bitter smelling soup spice from his tear-strained eyes when he caught a glimpse of his host, Earl Nicholas, standing not more than a few steps away. He caught his feet against the cobbles and stopped. Irina, with her eyes set upon the pastry stand of a flour-faced baker, almost tripped from the sudden stop.

"Ah, there he is!" Staedtler said with a point, stooping low to his side so Irina could follow his sight. "Do you see him?"

"Who is it?" she called aloud, the roar of a pantomime in her voice. She began jumping on the spot. "Is it a giant? A giraffe? A mountain, perhaps? Damn, if only I weren't too small to see anything for all these crowds!" She pokes the lanky man in his ribs and snorts a laugh. "Of course I see him, you idiot. Who is he?"

"It's my friend Earl Nicholas, the man of the hour himself - our host for week, and someone I very much trust, and would like to talk to." Staedtler saw who Nicholas was talking with and slouched a slight, his hand drooping to his knee. He growled his words through his teeth, his face looking like it had endured a painfully bad joke. "Oh, but he has company."

"Too right he does." Irina pushed Staedtler forward, palm to his lower back. "Come on. Hurry-hurry-hurry! You want to talk to him, then let's go talk to him. We haven't got much time after today!"

"I would. But it'd be awful rude to interrupt them, don't you think?" Staedtler mockingly put his hand to his chin.

"Hmmm." Irina stopped her pushing and mirrored him, also posing thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes it would be. Quite rude indeed."

The two stood there, hands to chins, scratching their invisible beards and twirling unseen moustaches, watching Nicholas and his conversation with keen interest.

"Come on," Staedtler said, shutting the spice box and putting his hand to Irina's waist. "Let's go and be rude."

Irina had a smirk shining across her face and hugged close to Staedtler's arm. Together, the two went toward Nicholas at a brisk pace, walking at eachother's side. It would almost be synchronised if it were not for Staedtler purposefully stretching his legs to their full reach with every step, forcing Irina to interpose her normal gait with the occasional flurry of quick steps, much to his amusement.

"Gentlemen, Earl Nicholas," Staedtler said with a smile as he stepped into the conversation. "Sorry to be terribly rude -"

"- Dreadfully rude," Irina agreed as she shook her head.

"But we haven't much time, and I did wish to speak with you, my friend, if that is alright." Staedtler offered a paper-lined basket to the centre of the discussion. "Candied apricot?"

Nicholas Archival

"Gentlemen, Earl Nicholas," Staedtler said with a smile as he stepped into the conversation. "Sorry to be terribly rude -"

"- Dreadfully rude," Irina agreed as she shook her head.

"But we haven't much time, and I did wish to speak with you, my friend, if that is alright." Staedtler offered a paper-lined basket to the centre of the discussion. "Candied apricot?"

Staedtler chose an auspicious time to arrive at the conversation between Nicholas and William, as it had drawn to its fitting conclusion. Nicholas, having begun to make his departure was brought to a standstill once again; for the third time in rapid succession, he was approached by another member of Luria's gilded aristocracy. This time, however, the circumstances were rather more surprising; rather than arrive alone, his attention was quickly grasped by woman to Staedtler's side. It was with no subtlety that they were joined together, and surreptitiously the Magistrate glanced between them.

"Staedtler," he exclaimed. "I had been wondering if you'd arrived yet. The administrative duties of the host of this juggernaut demands I attend to some official business soon, but I've time to speak. And perhaps you will introduce me to your companion."

With a sweep of his arm, he gestured for Staedtler to lead the way - should he wish to speak elsewhere - and gave his farewells to William by way an inclination of his head.

"Go and enjoy yourself with your family, William; any more talk of business can wait for now," he announced to the once-time marshal, with the genuine warmth of a man enjoying respite from his usual formalities... and then he spied the apricots.

"I don't mind if I do," he decided, clutching one and, with a quirked brow, awaited the topic of Staedtler's choice.

William Fitz Roberts

William rolled his eyes as the prancing idiot approached and did so as he kept speaking. He waited patiently as the fool continued to speak, and let out a sigh of relief as Myr left.

‘Dauntless is a silly name’ William muttered under his breath, before calling out ‘I’m staying at the Nun and the Ass, you can meet me there later.’ William turned back to Nicholas. ‘Why does this town have a tavern called the Nun and the Ass by the way? Anyway I promise that I won’t break him today, I’m not really in the mood to fight school boys. I thank you for your offer of assistance’

William nodded at Staedtler as he appeared at their side and bowed his head at Nicholas’ words

‘You’re quite right, I best go and make sure that Giesla hasn’t opened a bull pen… again’ As William set off, Marc Antonio stayed for a brief moment, staring at Staedtler’s companion

‘My lady, you are exquisite. Please tell me that you are this man’s cousin and not his betrothed?’

Staedtler la Stylo

"I don't mind if I do," he decided, clutching one and, with a quirked brow, awaited the topic of Staedtler's choice.

"Well, my friend, the conversation in question is not at all as 'serious' as battlefield antics or imperial no-shows." Staedtler bounced the sugared contents about for Nicholas to pick from. Once Nicholas had chosen, Irina leaned in for the apricots, only for Staedtler to hold the basket out of her reach. "No, this is a much more pleasant thing. For everyone involved. Finally."

Staedtler held his expressions still and focused toward Nicholas, save for a sideways smile as Irina went to jump a little in desperation before suddenly remembering that she was amongst nobility. She padded down the front of her dress and calmed herself before her host.

"This weird, little creature," Staedtler said, bringing the basket finally to Irina's height, who snatched an apricot without a second thought, "Is Irina, granddaughter of Luarin Bowker, Queen of Sun Hall."

Staedtler motioned between Nicholas and Irina for the customary greeting of two noble strangers. Irina was halfway through devouring a particularly tough apricot, and rushed to gulp down the treat in a flustered panic. She choked a little, patted a fist against the flat of her chest, and took a breath before extending out a well-practiced and courteous hand, the sapphire head of an engagement ring facing upward.

"Pleasure," she said to Nicholas, hoarsely hiding an emerging cough.

"She's proven to be quite the entertaining problem to have around." Staedtler put the basket to the ground and dusted hands upon the lapels of his necklaced jacket. "Knocking things over. Pushing my stuff about. She's a bit like a cat."

"Keep talking like that, mister, and I'll take it to heart out of spite. Start leaving footprints on your paperwork. Leaving dead animals on your bed sheets."

"... and I would not have it any other way." Staedtler laughed as he hugged Irina's shoulder. "Therefore, I'm sure it'd be no surprise to know, we've decided to get married."

"And ..." Irina looked up to Staedtler, motioning that there was something else.

Staedtler looked a little lost.

Rolling her eyes back round to face Nicholas, and laughing to herself at the silliness of things, Irina spoke up for her Staedtler. "He was wondering," she spoke slowly, each word designed to rejig Staedtler's memory of a discussion not two hours back, all accentuated with hand gestures and exaggerated faces. "Since you've been quite the friend to our dear, old-boy Staedtler, if you would like to attend the ceremony. If there is to be one, of course."

"Yes, what she said," Staedtler chuckled to himself. "Sorry, a lot is going on my head right now. Can't keep track of everything. Fireworks, all of it!" He mimed an explosion in the air beside his wide-eyed grimace, slyly mouthing a great 'kaboom'.

Staedtler la Stylo

"My lady, you are exquisite. Please tell me that you are this man’s cousin and not his betrothed?"

Irina leaned away from the conversation, the offered basket of treats, and Staedtler's side, toward the leering Marc Antonio.

"Tsk, sadly so, I am afraid." She prodded the gem-headed ring around her finger. "I know. Absolute disaster."

Her attention went from the basket and then back to Sir William's lingering entourage. She saw the departing giant of a knight stomping away and smiled.

"So, what would that make you and Sir William? Cousins, or ...? Your name doesn't happen to be Anne, does it?"

Nicholas had made his pick of the basket, and Irina's focus was stolen aside once more.

Nicholas Archival

The increasing presence of a smile decorated Nicholas' expression as he observed the interaction between man and woman, soon to be husband and wife. As her hand was proffered, he completed the gesture by lightly holding it with his own, and leaned down to brush his lips against her hand. Thereafter he returned to his full height, dwelling somewhere in the middle-ground between Staedtler's gangling frame and Irina's own form.

"It is quite the unexpected honour, to have even Queen Luarin's own kin here today. Allow me the civility of properly introducing myself - I am Earl Nicholas of Nid Tek, and Imperial Magistrate of Luria Nova," he spoke, before allowing the comfortable, and more natural, warmth to return to his demeanour.

Thereafter, once again, the flow of conversation was dictated by the back-and-forth between the lord and his lady. Nicholas could not bring himself to mind nor begrudge them; behind the drudgery of daily bureaucracy, he was still an idealist, and theirs seemed an idyllic match.

Rolling her eyes back round to face Nicholas, and laughing to herself at the silliness of things, Irina spoke up for her Staedtler. "He was wondering," she spoke slowly, each word designed to rejig Staedtler's memory of a discussion not two hours back, all accentuated with hand gestures and exaggerated faces. "Since you've been quite the friend to our dear, old-boy Staedtler, if you would like to attend the ceremony. If there is to be one, of course."

At the announcement, he raised both brows - ostensibly in surprise, though the shock had already abated after their initial arrival together. Then, with an affable courtesy, he clapped his hands together.

"Congratulations to you both. I would be most honoured to be in attendance," he answered, with the seriousness the situation deserved... before his lips formed the shape of a lopsided smirk. "Although given your prestigious positions and titles, it would be probably be a grave insult if I didn't receive an invite."

Then, as William departed and his attendant remained to pass comment, the Earl fell silent, observing the man quietly and intently.

William Fitz Roberts

Marc Antonio’s temper was immediately flared. ‘Why you arrogant little slut’ He growled, advancing on her, ‘Maybe I should carve up that pretty face of yours and then we shall see who wants to marry you then?’

Before anyone could react Marc Antonio had been knocked to the floor by a giant mass of muscle and bone. No one had seen William move, all had thought he had left, but he was there in an instant, standing over his cousin, a boot on his golden breastplate

‘Go home’

‘But cousin, she..’

‘Go home’ William’s normally grey eyes appeared to flash red, such was his fury. ‘If you ever do what you just did again you will be cast from this family, do you understand me?’

‘Yes William’ Marc Antonio said meekly, but flashed an evil glance towards Irina

‘Yes what? I am the head of this family. Yes what?’

‘Yes lord.’

William slowly lifted his boot off of his cousin. ‘Get off with you, now, before I really do disown you’

As Marc Antonio scurried away, William turned back to the group he had only recently left

‘That should not have happened, please forgive me my lords for the stupidity and arrogance of my cousin. My lady, are you alright? Know that if he had hurt you, family or not he would be hanging from the nearest tree’ William let out a sound of utter frustration. ‘God’s, this family! It’s going to kill me before I’m thirty, it’s like trying to herd wolves with a limp twig!’ At this last William went on one knee. ‘My lady, as some small way of trying to make up for my cousin’s actions, I place myself in your debt. If at any time you need my help, just send a letter and I will move the very mountains of the Divides to achieve what you ask’

Staedtler la Stylo

William went on one knee. ‘My lady, as some small way of trying to make up for my cousin’s actions, I place myself in your debt. If at any time you need my help, just send a letter and I will move the very mountains of the Divides to achieve what you ask’

"Just," Irina said, wiping her face of spittle. "Just leave."

Staedtler stepped past Irina and up to William, shadowed beneath the haunting frame of the Fitz Roberts alpha.

"Get that creature out of my sight," he said to the giant, slowly, quietly, without even looking him in the eyes. "I will not forget this."

Staedtler returned to Irina's side. He clutched her in his arms and pushed her head to his chest.

"I'm sorry. I ... didn't expect that to ..."

Staedtler held her even tighter; even closer. "Noone did," he lied.

"You know," she muffled through Staedtler's sleeve, "if he had taken another step forward ..." she paused for a second, and swallowed her breath. "I would've headbutted his teeth down his throat."

"I know."

"It would've been like pushing pennies into a wet purse."

Staedtler laughed with Irina, a little weaker than before perhaps, and kissed her hair. He turned to Nicholas. Silently, he surrendered an ailing smile with his host. It was one stained with absolute disbelief, yet showed not a hint of surprise.

"I think it wise for us to leave, soon," he said, voice lowering. "I have a Queen, and future Grandmother, to meet - given she survives the skirmish in Sun Hall. But you've seen the Bowker family." He rubs Irina's shoulder. "They certainly aren't cut from weak clay. She'll survive."

He laced his fingers within Irina's. She was watching the departing Sir William.

"But, perhaps, a warm meal first, Nicholas?" Staedtler put a hand onto his friend's shoulder.

"We'd hate to leave you with on this," Irina wormed her head free of Steadtler's forearm. "You've been a delightful host for us all, too - wild animals notwithstanding." She glared down her nose to the heaving backs of the Fitz Roberts retinue as they trudged away into the parting sea of crowding peoples, like loose boulders tumbling through tall grasses. As they turned a corner and were out of her sight, she returned to Nicholas and shared a warm smile. "You are a good man, Earl Nicholas."

Nicholas Archival

Throughout the interaction between the William, Marc, Staedtler and Irina, the Magistrate was oddly silent. There was a steeliness to his gaze that was not often present, and though he made little exertion to show it, there was no doubt that the man was displeased. William is not the true animal of that household, he realised, with the mildest jolt of surprise.

Once Staedtler had adroitly brought calm back to his bride-to-be, Nicholas' demeanour relaxed once again; a sour experience would not spoil what remained. It helped that he did not doubt William's own fury - perhaps not for the sake of Irina, but for the embarrassment that had befallen him in front of so many prying eyes. A man shamed was rarely tranquil.

He noticed, a moment after, that a small crowd had formed to watch the spectacle. However, now that the matter had been resolved, they began to drift away once again; any stragglers were soon scurrying by the stare of their lord.

"We'd hate to leave you with on this," Irina wormed her head free of Steadtler's forearm. "You've been a delightful host for us all, too - wild animals notwithstanding." She glared down her nose to the heaving backs of the Fitz Roberts retinue as they trudged away into the parting sea of crowding peoples, like loose boulders tumbling through tall grasses. As they turned a corner and were out of her sight, she returned to Nicholas and shared a warm smile. "You are a good man, Earl Nicholas."

"It's what I endeavour to be," he answered, with his smile making its gradual return. "I would offer to act in my official capacity... but I suspect the man is going to be properly punished in his own time. But let us not pay the matter any further heed; there are matters far more worthy of consideration."

With that, he signalled to the two of them as one. "Though I wouldn't want to keep you long, you are both to remain until we have shared a drink and toasted to the joy of your union," Nicholas announced aloud, his voice amiable but brooking no argument. "I'm told my favourite vintner has arrived earlier today - let us pay him a visit."

Upon saying this, he waved a hand to beckon them to follow his lead as he shifted into a sure-footed stride - Marius hosted his vintages in Ambervale at his store, and it was nearby. As he walked, it became apparent the affection he shared with his people - it was here, in the home of his making, that he found himself in his element. Lordship, more than his role in the Imperial Government, was what called to him innately, it was clear to observe.

13th July

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Tohrm Elrath

Tohrm awoke to a drop of water on his face. It took a second to accustom himself with his surroundings. Not quite the comfortable, warm room he was used to in his previous manor. In fact, the abandoned hut was far from a manor. Still, it served its purpose, being on the construction site of the monastery.

He could already begin to hear the rest of the workers stir.

As he clothed himself and stepped out to be welcomed by a view of overgrown fields and rickety hovels. It was far from ideal, but... so were many things these days. Tohrm consoled himself in the knowledge that his work here was vital. This first temple would be a mark of his faiths rebirth, as well as a shining beacon on the borders of the Empire, bringing Civilization to the very fringes of their lands.

After speaking with the foreman for a short time, Tohrm began to make his way to his horse. Despite having left his retinue behind, his unruly band of mischevious squires still accompanied him. After mustering the boys to action, he mounted his steed and set his heel to its flank.

Tohrm's road would lead him south, away from the borders of Dantooine to the hall of his new lord, Earl Greybrook. Times were troubling and he had much on his mind, and he supposed... so would the young Earl.

Emyhr le Craint

As the sun rose on another day of the Nid Tekkian harvest festival, Emyhr was awoken by the news that his captain had successfully made it back to the north after his brief visit to Giask. Filled with more energy and a feeling of relief hearing this news, he began to dress himself, this time putting on a comfortable grey doublet with black velvet trim accompanied with simple black hose. Finishing it off with a black velvet gown and hood in an effort to fight off the fall breeze.

Taking his horse and riding back to Nid Tek, the journey was shorter and more comfortable now the pain in his leg was calming down. Either that or he had gotten use to the pain by now. Having made it in by early afternoon, this next day of festivities was well underway.

Leaving his horse within the comfort of a local stable, Emyhr began to wander and enjoy the festival. Heading over to one of the food stalls that had been set up, Emyhr bought some freshly baked bread and some local cheeses and continued to walk the festival. Partially searching the crowd in a hope to find Earl Nicholas. Before Emyhr left previously, he had caught sight of Earl Nicholas talking to Earl Staedtler and a mysterious woman, he would be lying if this hadnt had piqued his interest.

Continuing further through, passing the tavern area that Emyhr had previously sat at, it felt nice that this time he was making it further into the festival. After walking for a while, Emyhr began to notice that he had seemed to catch the eyes of other attendants of the festival. When he wasnt concentrating, he collided with a small girl. The girl fell to the ground and began to cry, she was seemingly visibly panicked. Emyhr got down to her height and helped her to her feet.

"Is everything alright? What are you doing by yourself?"

Fighting away the tears, sniffling, "I lost my mummy, I dont know where she is.."

"Well how about I help you find her? Im sure if we both look we will find her in no time."

The small child nodded and held out her hands. Emyhr proceeded to lift the girl up and place her on his shoulders. He now noticed that she was carrying a small stuffed bear, looking around he found a stall that was selling ribbons.

"How about we get a new ribbon for your bear and show that to your mum when we find her?"

Again she didnt speak but proceeded to nod while wiping away the tears. Going over to the stall, Emyhr bought a shiny red ribbon and attached it to the bear, which put a smile on the face of the child. Afterwards, they began to walk around the festival, Emyhr pointing out the sights of the festival to the child while searching for her mother.

After a short while, a woman began to rush over to Emyhr, also crying. Seeing this, the child began to reach out to her mother, Emyhr took the child off his shoulders and let the child run to the woman. Emyhr followed shortly, approaching the two, Emyhr offered a polite greeting. The woman seeing who had helped them out, began to stand and bow for the knight, Emyhr however stopped her to let her continue the reunion with her child. After a brief interaction, Emyhr left the two of them to enjoy the rest of the festival. Before departing, the child grabbed hold of the back of his gown, Emyhr turned around to see that the child was offering the old ribbon from her bear. Emyhr smiled, took the ribbon and tied is around one of his buttons of his doublet. Ruffling the hair of the child, Emyhr turned around and continued to explore the rest of the festival.

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Raine Gildre

A year ago, Darfix...

Raine watched from the shadows of a second story window as a patrol of monsters marched along the street below. Her black cape hung loosely from her shoulders in stillness as she stood frozen, not making a sound.

She breathed once the patrol had passed. What had she gotten herself into?

Break into a few rural tax offices, and you think you have the stuff to infiltrate Darfix? she chided herself silently. The beam of light still shined towards the heavens from the portal stones at the center of the city. Monsters had come through, from lands unknown, and wandered the city now, forming bands.

Quickly, she crossed the threshold of the window and dropped to the ground below. Hugging the buildings and the shadows they provided, she worked her way further into the city. She paused as several monstrous beasts rounded a corner ahead of her.

They snarled and snapped at each other. Of the three, two turned on the third, hacking at it with vicious looking swords. They left a mess of gore on the street when they carried on. Raine paled at the sight of the misshapen body, but she carried on.

After carefully working her way from street to street, she reached her destination: the city center. The Portal remained open, a glaring doorway of light. She swallowed a lump in her throat and watched. There were no monsters in the vicinity currently, but Raine had no way of knowing what was on the other side of the portal, or if some were going to come through...

The Dark World

Raine breathed once. Twice. A third time.

Now or never... she thought. Taking one last glance around to ensure she was alone, she bolted off sprinting across the open ground. Sweat from heat and nerves beaded on her brow as each step took her closer to the glow of light. Her heartbeat smashed in her ears like thunder. Not allowing herself a second thought, she charged into the Portal.

She blinked as the world went dark. She could make out the shape of a cropping of rocks, and she rolled to the side to take cover behind them while her eyes adjusted from the blinding light to the darkness.

As her vision cleared, she gazed first at the deep violet sky, covered in rolling black clouds crashing with lightning and thunder. Piercing up into the sky rose dark mountains, leaking trails of lava down their sides in deadly rivers. A barren, rocky landscape rolled out around her.

"Netherworld..." she breathed to herself. She could make out a Daimon in the distance, his firey wings spread, corraling a group of monsters. She would need to move.

Carefully she worked her way from outcropping to outcropping, avoiding groups of monsters and the occasional Daimon. Very little in the landscape changed as she moved away from the light of the Portal, until, in the distance, she saw another glimmer of light. Curious, she made her way towards it, until finally she was on the other side of a rock shelf from it. Cautiously, she peered around the edge.

Her eyes widened, shocked. Before her sat a giant man, bound with golden chains secured to the rocky terrain.

"It has been eons since I have seen a human..." his deep voice rumbled through Raines mind. Slowly she stepped out to look upon him fully.

"Who are you?" she whispered in awe.

"I was once called Ulrith," he smiled at her, "I was once a god..."

"A god?"

"Yes child," he raised his hands until the chains grew taught, "There were once many gods who watched over the realms of man. The Darkness, or as you have called them, the forces of Daimons, have rose up against us, one by one. We are weak, divided. And they took from us our powers. There are other gods here, bound as I..." His eyes grew wistful, "That is what happens when a following dies out. We lose our power, and the Darkness comes for us. Once it has snuffed out the last of us, they will enter your worlds in force. None will be able to stop them."

"What can I do...?" Raine asked, fearful.

"Call my name to the heavens once more, child!" Ulrith clenged his fists, muscles bulging, "Take up my banner, and call upon those who would regain the faith of man and destroy the darkness! The more who rally to my name, the more my powers will be restored, until I can shatter these chains and once again add my protection to the realms!"

He touched her face softly, "You, child, shall be my first angel. The First Angel of Ulrith. Go, take yourself from this place, back to your world, and harken my call!"

Wide eyed, Raine couldn't speak. She just turned and ran.

Cadier, present

Raine had finished. Over the past year she had gathered every tome or scroll relating to Ulrith she could find. She was ready, ready to bring forth the name of Ulrith to the continent. Every convert would grow her master's power, until he could break free from his bondage and cast the filth of evil from Dwilight.

A long, difficult path lay ahead of her. She draped a pendant of Ulrith's symbol around her neck and nodded.

She was ready. But was the world?

Cador Andrasta

It was pandemonium. The noise came from all directions, ringing his ears, but the slits in his visor only allowed Cador the narrowest of views of the world around him. From the blind spot to his right, half of a Lurian archer flew into his field of vision and crashed into the blood-soaked dirt before him, where it was promptly set upon by two basilisks. The creatures tore at the flesh, snapping at each other as they fought over the choicest bits. Foul things, the king thought to himself, and turned away. If only I had the Scythe, I would slay both with a single slash. But the Scythe had been lost to him since Mattan Dews. He stumbled forward through the mud, finishing off, almost without thinking, a writhing manticore that had been feathered by half a dozen arrows. My wounds are itching. I should have Brysea change the bandages. A soldier screamed something at him, but the words didn't reach him, so the soldier turned around to face his next foe. A thin spray of blood splattered across Cador's helmet as the soldier was eviscerated by a large direboar. Poor fool. I wonder what he wanted. Something tugged on his shoulder, and he was spun around. Another soldier was screaming at him now. This one was more persistent, though. I think I know this one. My hair feels wet. Is it raining? What's he doing with that knife? I think I want to sleep. Stop yelling at me. My head hurts.

---

It was pandemonium. Grimwold had ditched his helmet seconds into the battle. He hated having his vision impeded, and against some of these beasts, a helmet would do you little good anyhow. He needed to see, and hear. One volley after another fell onto the oncoming storm of claws and teeth. The Forlorn were the only Lurians capable of prolonged melee, and they were less than thirty strong. Even the king was posted at the front line. Cencius' last two stone throwers rained death, but they could not keep up, and soon they had to be abandoned. Brutal melee would decide the battle now. The Forlorn braced behind their tall oaken shields, but Grimwold needed both hands to wield his grand mace.

"Hold the line, boys!", he shouted at the men. "If we break, it's over! Even if you die, hold the line!"

Then the horde was on them. Grimwold checked the first beast, a snarling troll, catching it in the jaw with a quick poke of the mace. The thing staggered for only a moment, but by then Grim's mace was already coming down with terrifying speed. The creature's head shattered beneath it, and it slumped to the ground. He looked around to find his master, and found him squaring off against a small ogre. Anything between seven and nine foot was considered small. The king looked focused, drawing the ogre to him, but keeping his distance with the point of his longaxe. Just as Grim had taught him. The ogre lurched forward, stumbled over a Lurian corpse and was promptly decapitated. The king raised his axe at Grimwold, signaling a good kill. Foolish. He never saw the large ogre coming from behind him. Almost casually, it slammed its fist down on the king's head. Grimwold crossed the distance in seconds and swung at the ogre, crushing first its foot and then its skull as it reached down. He finished it off with another blow to the head, and went looking for his master.

The king was staggering around, completely senseless. The top of his helmet was bent inwards. Too deep. Much too deep. Grimwold could see the blood flowing from underneath it. Not a trickle, but a flow. Grimwold rushed over to him as he stood there poking at a dead manticore. This was bad. He grabbed the king's shoulder and turned him around.

"Cador?" The king did not respond. "Cador! Are you there!?" Nothing. "Oh no..." He drew his knife and deftly cut through the chin strap. He felt the king going limp. "CADOR! STAY AWAKE!" It was no good. As soon as he removed the helmet and saw the king's eyes completely glazed over, his face awash with blood, Grim knew it was a race. He cut off a strip of the king's crimson cloak and wrapped it around the king's crimson head before hoisting him over his shoulder and running off to find the nearest healer.

14th July

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Tohrm Elrath

Tohrm followed the coast on his journey south, soon passing by Sea Cliff Keep, the home of his liege, yet when he asked with the steward, he was told that Earl Greybrook was abroad and that he would have to wait to seek an audience. A minor inconvenience, since there was still so much to do, and Tohrm set himself back to the road without much delay.

A full day passed on his travels, before him and his motley band arrived in Ambervale. The festival appeared to be in full swing. Amidst the bustle of the peasantry and merchants, more than a few men and women of noble calibre could be seen, and no doubt he would attempt to speak to the lot of them, but the Imperial Magistrate was first on the list. Though finding him did not prove difficult, it seemed as if the Magistrate had acquired quite the crowd of his own; more than a few nobles there Tohrm recognized.

Tohrm strolled up to the vintners store, hailing the group of nobility as he did.

"My lords, ladies, it is quite the occasion when so many can gather for such festivity. A welcome respite for all I should think."

Tohrm offered a warm smile to all assembled as he ordered a glass from the vintner. Refreshing, even if the weather had start to grow colder with the approaching winter season.

"I am sure there are many more of repute who are enjoying this festival, and the people are positively unruly."

He gestured to one side at a wrestling competition between the peasants, a large ring had been formed of people where a roar of approval was heard every so often. "The best kind of unruly if you ask me."

Tohrm chuckled and sipped from his glass, allowing for the rest of the gathering to introduce themselves.

Emyhr le Craint

Walking through the stalls, Emyhr spotted a gathering had occurred around one of the central areas. Out of interest, Emyhr approached and spotter a person who he had met before but never on a personal level was addressing the gathered nobles.

"My lords, ladies, it is quite the occasion when so many can gather for such festivity. A welcome respite for all I should think."

A man he had met at that time was known as Sir Tohrm, but news had traveled fast that he had adopted a priestly life. This had interested Emyhr about what could he have discovered that would have changed the path of a well respected knight such as himself. Emyhr found himself instinctively walking towards Sir Tohrm, wishing to talk to the man himself both out of courtesy and interest over his choices.

Awaiting for the time to greet the man, Emyhr was finally given a chance.

"Sir Tohrm, ah sorry, should I address you as Priest Tohrm now? It is good to see you again, I believe we have not seen each other since the council of Earth Hall. How have you fared in recent days? News has reached my ears that you have come upon an interesting revalation. If you would honour my request, I would love to hear about it."

Awaiting his response, Emyhr looked upon the figure with admiration and respect.

Ciarghuala Dubhaine

"Are you still writing for that damn rag?" Ciarghuala and her companion Lady Emily sat in the shade of her pavilion, enjoying a light afternoon tea away from the hustle and bustle of Nid Tek's Harvest Festival.

"The Lurian Pig Breeders and Stockmen's Gazette is hardly a rag Ciara. It has the highest circulation in the Empire," Em's tone suggested she wasn't entirely serious in her defence of the infamous Poryatown tabloid, famed for its sensational exposes, though it was clear she relished her role as Fashion Editrix.

"I swear you only do these things to vex me," Ciarghuala sipped her tea as she skipped to her companion's column, doing her best to ignore the pages of social chit chat and political gossip as she did so. She couldn't afford the Grand Pantry to be drawn into such petty matters.

Winter Stays for the Holidays

Lady Emily D'Arcy, Fashion Editrix

Crowds gathered at this week's Harvest Festival in Nid Tek were treated to the latest creations from the great fashion houses of Giask. An exuberant riot of bold colours, patent boots and shockingly brief hemlines from Jean Pierre Goatlyre put as much as three inches of ankle on display whilst bette diabolique of street culture Vivienne Vestfolder delivered a tour de force of his and hers tailored couture. For the more traditionally inclined House of Flanel updated their signature court gowns with gold and scarlet slipper satin whilst Haughtnell delivered yet another masterclass in shot silk concealed brigandine for our magnificent ladies militant.

The taste for stays has grown apace in recent years as trendsetting debutantes have embraced the "au villein" and "d'orphan la monde" street movements with accentuated curves and ultra-slim waists the centrepiece of this year's on-trend looks. The Winter season's signature pieces feature extravagant tight lacing and longline corseting with sweeping skirts and generous culottes beneath elegant peignoir in Askileon lace or Shinnen silk paired with deliciously teetering high heels.

Men's attire continues to follow the military trend, a nod to the stoic heroism of our brave boys in red and blue. Swords are longer and single-bladed, worn mid-hip with a swaggering bravado, bucklers are making a welcome comeback after several years of disappointing sales, worn provocatively at the hip, and boots continue the above-the-knee look made popular by Earth's Hall's mariners. Doublets are definitely sturdier with hardened leather a common theme and slashed sleeves give glimpses of crisp white linen shirts with blackwork embroidery

Millinery has also taken a turn for the more exotic with sheer veils and brightly coloured feathers gracing women's styles whilst for gentlemen and our ladies militant brims have broadened and are worn with a rakish flourish.

"So what do you think?" Em spread a generous quantity of clotted cream on her unbuttered scone, followed by a dolloped cairn of damson preserve.

"Well I'm sure Mr Haughtnell will be pleased at the publicity, though if the prices he charges his other customers are anything like those he charges me I doubt he needs the business."

"Personally I think it's a miracle he dresses you at all dear considering the mood you're always in when he's taking measurements."

Ciarghuala frowned, "I appreciate what he does with the armour plating, but is it really necessary to put so much... flounce over the top?"

Em gave her a mischievous look, "I rather like the... flounce. It gives a girl something to grab a hold of."

"Yes, well, be that as it may I'm not sure the practice of tight lacing is a good one. Hell, the peasant girls of Giask wouldn't have started cinching themselves so tightly if there was the food to properly feed them, so to see the wives and daughters of the gentry aping the practice is just... well... why don't we have a damn word that captures 'subversive' and 'tragic'?"

"We do dearest. Fashion."

15th July

Autumn Day -- Nid Tek

Nicholas Archival

Upon arriving at the vintner's, with Staedtler and his bride-to-be in tow, Nicholas quickly strode forward to engage with its owner. Such was his focus that his gaze did not immediately spot Tohrm, nor Sir Emhyr. However, once he returned to his starry eyed companions with a pristine bottle of Ambervale Red within his grasp, he spied the duo. With a few, brisk words, he bid a nearby servant to begin filling their glasses. In the meantime, he approached the other two attendees of the Festival.

"Tohrm, Sir Emhyr! A pleasing coincidence to find you here," he announced, genial warmth displayed within a broad smile. "I must echo the words I overheard Sir Emhyr speak; I am greatly interested by your revelation of faith."

With that, he also shot Emhyr a sideways glance. "Ah- if you've not yet seen him, Sir Myr is on the look-out for you. Perhaps he may arrive here to join us yet."

Emyhr le Craint

With that, he also shot Emhyr a sideways glance. "Ah- if you've not yet seen him, Sir Myr is on the look-out for you. Perhaps he may arrive here to join us yet."

"Earl Nicholas, it is an honour to be in your presence. I am thoroughly enjoying this festival, and as I am sure many have also said, it is nice to enjoy some respite and peace away from the conflicts."

Offering a bow to the earl, Emyhr offered out his hand in greeting. Formalities aside, the man stood before him was one he had admired for his actions and the efforts he has made for the empire.

"It is a shame, I must have missed him. Sir Myr is a good friend of mine and even now I would dare to say I owe him my life. He defended me in the attack in Santoo where I suffered a grave injury. Even against the incoming threat of monsters, he stayed to ensure I would be able to continue to fight."

With that, Emyhrs tone changed along with a wince of pain shooting through his leg. But, Emyhr strived to maintain his compsure in the presence of Earl Nicholas and Priest Tohrm.

"Enough of that, we are here to enjoy ourselves not be wrapped up in the past. The work you have put into this festival has truly paid off, it has been a while since I have come to enjoy such pleasures. How have you fared since the council of Earth Hall?"

Patiently waiting for a response, Emyhr took a sip from the hot drink he had picked up from one of the stalls and adjusted his cloak which had slipped off his back slightly.

Nicholas Archival

Pleased by the complimentary words espoused by Emhyr, Nicholas dipped his head into a courteous incline before reaching forth to firmly grasp the knight's hand. By the ease of speech and the relative informality of his mannerisms, the Earl was evidently enjoying himself and the Festival.

"Sir Myr's bravery is rarely equalled, by all accounts," he agreed. Although it was an uncommon event for him to be on the battlefield, he knew of the young knight's headstrong value and the manner in which it matched keenly with the lion of their shared order.

"I am very pleased with the result of all this planning and preparation. I've said as much to others already, but my Tekians are an industrious and unbowed people."

With that, he beckoned over an attended, who promptly deposited a richly-ornamented goblet, filled to the brim with crimson liquid. He drank deeply with his first sip, before savouring its rich taste. For now, he continued to allow Staedtler to enjoy himself before the toast that was soon to be.

"I was disappointed I couldn't attend the council in person, though naturally I was kept abreast of the situation. I've been well enough; the tedium of bureaucracy keeps me safe - and a little bored. Which may well be the explanation for why I've thrown myself into the Festival so fully. And yourself? You have been throwing yourself into danger in the name of the empire, I can only commend you for it."

Emyhr le Craint

"I was disappointed I couldn't attend the council in person, though naturally I was kept abreast of the situation. I've been well enough; the tedium of bureaucracy keeps me safe - and a little bored. Which may well be the explanation for why I've thrown myself into the Festival so fully. And yourself? You have been throwing yourself into danger in the name of the empire, I can only commend you for it."

"Well it is good to hear that you have still be blessed be good health and fortune, thats one of the major differences between our occupations. It was a shame you could not make it, but I am glad you will still updated with its happenings. Being that involved in the future of Earth Hall was eye opening for me personally, really made me think about what I want to achieve myself."

Holding up he glass in toast to good health and the fortune of the Empire, Emyhr took a deep swig once again from his drink.

"While it may seem that I am placed at the mercy of the monsters and the Imperial Command, it is an honour to be able to fight for a just cause and an exceptional Marshal. I am proud of men and the courage they have all shown in the face of such threats, I hope to be able to give them the rest they deserve soon. I seem to be traveling all over for the sake of the defense of Luria Nova, just this passing season, I have found myself in all corners of both Earth Hall and Moon Hall, and as we speak, my captain has gathered some fresh recruits and return back to the north to continue our duties."

Spying around at the peace and joyful atmosphere that was present at the festival, Emyhr couldnt help but smile.

"It may be a tough and risky journey, but seeing the results in the smiles of the people being able to live in such peaceful times makes it all worth it in the end. I will never stop to fight so long as I can maintain this kind of life, my men and I are always willing to continue to sacrifice ourselves so long as people can enjoy themselves and work without fear."

Taking a longer drink, Emyhr finished off his drink. Wiping away the liquid from around his mouth, he found himself smiling once again.

"This is partially the reason I have taken an interest in the work Priest Tohrm. Having come to such a revelation myself, I find myself ever curious about the journeys that others are taking. I am sure he will have quite the tale to tell us all I imagine."

Tohrm Elrath

Tohrm allowed the two men to converse, enjoying the vintage in the crisp autumn weather. It was pleasant to be able to enjoy proper company again, and he only interceded the convsersation once before a lull in their discourse.

"Indeed, this festival is a fine example of the great and joyous nature of Earth Hall's people. It is certainly refreshing."

After which Tohrm drank swiftly, parting from the two to get a refill. He acknowledged Staedtlers presence but seeing the lady by his side, only allowed a polite nod, as to not disrupt them.

When the moment seemed to pass between the Magistrate and knight, Tohrm would remark.

"Both of your curiosity is well received. A sincere thanks to you both for your civil approach to my rather..." Tohrm paused to consider how best to convey the situation. "... abrupt, at least in part, formation of my faith. One that I would share with those assembled, when frivolities have ended, but before Lurian politics take hold once more."

He let his words sink in for a brief moment, his expression becoming quite considerate in nature. "I would still see myself as a Sir than a priest, I do not wish to seclude myself from the realm at large, secular matters included. Rather, I will prefer intergration as easily as one can manage."

He stopped to chuckle lightly, shaking his head as he waved the topic off dismissively.

"Of this I will talk, no doubt at such a pace to tire those who listen, but all to come later. Perhaps the Magistrate would be kind enough that I might gather those interested within the festival to converse with at his personal manor after dark. Should the Magistrate deem it a worthy cause."

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas nodded in assent. Before responding, he took another sip of his wine, while regarding Tohrm with an honest curiosity.

"Truthfully, I have hoped to evade matters of realm politics within the Festival regardless. It will all come rushing back as the event draw to a close, and I've my own announcements to make, but they can wait for now... And, as for your request, I can have my men inform any of high birth and standing in Ambervale currently that you've wish to speak with them on the matter - of course, I will not demand, but intrigued minds will come all the same."

16th July

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Tohrm Elrath

Tohrm nodded slowly in agreement with the Magistrate.

"Aye, lets not have such talk sour the festivities. I am grateful you would allow me this opportunity though; I will not disappoint."

Tohrm decided a fresh take of all the colours of the festival was in order, so began pacing in a wide circle around the vintners. When he seemed satisfied, he remarked with enthusiasm to the gathered nobles.

"With my estate having now moved to Dantooine, I have scarce had the chance to survey the surrounding lands, particularly regarding the game. If any of you find yourself in the province, I would care for a keen hunting partner. I could lend a hawk or two should one not have their own. The Empires borders are supposed to be quite good sport."

Tohrm face lit up with a wry smile as he drank.

"The more the merrier, they say."

Solomon Greybrook

A Long Awaited Return

It had been a significant amount of time since Solomon was invested with the region of Dantooine. With matters of the realm to attend to, there was not a opportunity to actually come to his new home. A couple of days before Winter, Solomon had arrived as the region's Earl.

However, his return was not rosy.

Upon the rolling hills of Dantooine, there had been frequent incursions of monsters and undead, eating crops and attacking villages. Fortunately, the region had been defended well by the Grand Panetier and Wassgandr Felsenbach of Poryatown - a note of gratitude which Solomon intended on personally attending to. Furthermore, as the sun rose on the lush pastureland, another battle was fought at dawn. With the support of Sir Wassgandr, the small horde of monsters was turned away without any human blood spilled.

Unfortunately, as the sun began to rise in the sky, Solomon could not personally meet the nobleman that had guarded his region numerous times in his absence. Instead, it was to head to his own estate and govern the region that he had been entrusted with.

Upon taking the region, Solomon had ordered that the previous tall stone watch-tower, that was known as the Sea Cliff Keep, was to be renovated. Furthermore, Solomon had recruited the best men that his family knew to create a estate which held the traditional watchtower, but also the construction of a stone keep which could hold court for Dantooine as well as hold the hub of coastal activity for the White Coast.

As the sun was around two hours from it's peak, Solomon and the Exalted Arbalests saw the estate. While the stone keep was still under construction, the tall stone watchtower had been amended. Now encompassing stronger fortifications and details which he left to his household, for now, Solomon was satisfied with it's progress. As his retinue approached the estate, the sharp incline to the estate was tough even for the fittest men. The previous lords of Dantooine had built the watchtower on the tallest cliff in the area. While the cliffs themselves were not tall or particularly jagged like those you can see in the South Divide, their white tint would inspire painters depict the estate in beauty.

With only a hundred meters till the gate, Solomon dispatched Harvard to signal the gates master to open the estate to him. While Solomon himself had been to Poryatown, Harvard had been dispatched previously to check upon Sea Cliff Keep, whom was placed under the temporary care of Carlos, Solomon's uncle. While Solomon's father did not get along with his brother, Carlos had always protected and guided Solomon as if he was his own son. Most of all, he was a man that could be trusted.

As Solomon entered through the gates of his estates, he did not know what to expect. Before him was his estate that he had not even stepped foot into before today. However, a few meters in front of him was his uncle, Carlos proclaimed:

'Earl Solomon! My dear boy! It has been too long!' The man's voice was booming and precise - a man whom had served his time within numerous retinues and ships of Greybrook's gone.

'Uncle! It must be at least 3 years!' With a short hug, Solomon observed the man. He had not changed one bit. He had always kept his appearance in the highest accord, even during his service as a infantry. His arguably most striking feature was the tidy silver beard and groomed hair that swayed to one side which did not move in the sea breeze. While only a inch or two shorter than Solomon, his presence held more accord than many infantry commanders.

With that thought, Solomon turned to Harvard and spoke carefully:

'Please ensure that Captain Semund is attended to. There should be some barracks which Carlos has housed the Greybrook Guard. I have a feeling he will be difficult until there is some ale in his stomach.'

With that, Harvard indicated where the retinue will be hosted and they dispersed into the crowd of people that currently traded within the estate.

'Nephew, or should I say my Earl? There was a slight hint of venom with that statement. However, Solomon knew how his father had treated him all those years ago... 'Before you hold court, there is a few matters to attend to.'

With a outstretched arm, Solomon took his lead from Carlos and traveled through the estate to the watchtower. While looking narrow from afar, the watchtower was rather imposing from it's base. While physically a lot wider than previously thought, the space inside exceeded expectations. While there is more to be done, the ground floor would be a suitable location for court until the keep was finished.

Gesturing up the winding staircase, Carlos begun to explain the course of events since his arrival:

'When I arrived, your assistant Harvard was already hard at work. He had begun to source materials for the keep outside as well as organising the farmland out in the hills. With the numerous attacks of unmentionables, the assistance from the Margravine of Poryatu cannot be understated. However, there has been little issue so far and our granaries have not been touched.'

This came at a sigh of relief. There was only so much reassurance one could receive while abroad. As Carlos turned off the staircase, Solomon had entered what appeared to be a private quarters:

'Earl, this floor is what the previous owner designated as a private meeting quarters for local affairs. Outside of court activities, I can guarantee personally the security of this location for your meetings. Also, if you look at the view it provides, I do not believe there could be a better suited private dining environment.'

Looking over to the balcony, the view made Solomon speechless. The endless horizon over the sea on a perfect autumn day.

'While there is numerous issues I would rather have you attend,' Carlos paused for a second for a thought. He walked onto the balcony and sat down in one of the chairs placed there and continued:

'A few days ago, a man by the name of Tohrm Elrath asked to visit you. I assume you are fully aware of who this man is?'

With a nod, Solomon gestured for Carlos to continue.

'I have had a few of the Greybrook Guard to scout out what appears to be a monastery being built where we demolished the abandoned wooden fort near Danturn Town. We have ascertained that his man has declared himself as a prophet of a new religion he calls the Celestial Scales.'

Solomon knew of this man and his religion. From what he knew, Sir Tohrm was a good man with good intentions. Taking up estate in Dantooine as his vassal was a sign of that.

'Honestly, the man has not approached you personally about this matter. Furthermore, the native religions of the area, Ecclesial Sanguiastroism and Sanguis Astroism, are concerned with his actions. Nevertheless, upon tradition, he should be able to say his piece. While I do not know of his intentions, I recommend you be wary. To the peasants, this branch of the Greybrook family tree are pagans who have not chosen to follow known religion. Hence, we must approach any interaction with this man and his religion with caution.'

From a pocket within his coat, Carlos pulled out a flask and took a quick swig of its' contents. With this, Solomon replied:

'Instruct that I must see Sir Tohrm immediately. Until I have made a judgement, this man's views and his followers should not be persecuted. When he arrives, ensure that he comes here so that I can meet him in private. I can trust that you can do this for me Uncle with discretion. Until then, I must be in court to help the people of this land and cement my authority here.'

17th July

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Sevastian Schwarzherzig

Sevastian and his men boarded the waiting dromon, the Aetherium. Sevastian settled in aboard the familiar ship, and took a seat upon the deck, looking out at the waves, rage boiling inside him.

They will burn. Every last traitor to the Imperial Throne.

The thought consumed him, and he sat, for how long, he did not know. After a time he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He started, and turned.

"Mother." Sevastian whispered. The woman behind him was thin, but not frail. Her once copper red hair had faded and turned white, but her green eyes still burned with a fire.

"Now you know my pain, my son." She said soothingly.

"You got off far easier than I did though. I was already in prison when they announced my ban. I was lucky to have befriended the guards, and they allowed me to escape before I could be executed." She reminisced.

"I already know that story Mother. Getting lost in past memories isn't going to help us here. Its all in ruins!" Sevastian shouted back, and hurled a crate off the deck.

"All wasted! Our home is denied us again!" He roared. The elder woman didn't budge in the face of her son's wrath, and she embraced him tightly.

"Trust the Emperor. We will return. What was ours, will be again. By the Stars, we will right the wrongs of the past, and the present." She said, softly.

"Shhhh. Shhh. It's okay. It is times like this that define who we are. Rise to the challenge. Do as I did, and not as your father did. Your father ran and hid in Balance's Retreat for the rest of his days. As for me, my greatest work came after my banishment. So too shall yours." She whispered to him soothingly.

"I shall send your siblings the notice of the blood feud. You, calm down, and plan our next move. You are my oldest son, and my heir. This nothing you cannot accomplish. Now is the time to resist. Resist, and bite." She said, letting him go, and walking off the quarter deck.

"SET SAIL!" She barked, and descended below decks.

Sevastian's men looked at this woman in awe, as she descended below decks.

"Who was that?" One of them whispered, and a nearby sailor grinned.

"Our Lady, our savior. The Light of the Maddening. Scourge of D'hara, Savior of the West." The sailor intoned reverently.

Nicholas Archival

The frantic journey to Poryatown had taken its toll. In recollection, few details remained to him; he remembered the icy breeze whipping across the plains of Nid Tek and Poryatu, tempered only by the burning resolve in his chest. It grieved him to leave the Festival early, and especially in the dead of night, but his life was no longer as secure as he had once thought.

The guards at White Hall had granted him entry quickly enough and, with Loras in tow, he found himself in a side-wing of the estate. It was the most secure he was likely to get now, though he felt like a cornered animal at the conclusion of the hunt.

"You really think the emperor wanted Matthew's life, and your own?" Loras asked. He had been asking inane questions for hours in a dim attempt to find sense in the situation.

Nicholas sighed and shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I thought he may demand my resignation, but not... this."

He gestured with a wave of his hand to one of the nearby servants. With a crisp nod of understanding, they soon approached to replenish his goblet. From the time of his arrival, he had made this request more than half a dozen times. Despite the warm, drunken haze that was arriving, he could not shake his worries.

"Loras. We're done here for the evening, go home. Father will ensure you're safe; I cannot make those promises right now."

His cousin, ever the impetuous youth, protested angrily. "You can't do--"

"I can," Nicholas cut him off brusquely. "And I will. Go home. Now. I doubt anything untoward will happen tonight, but you're not to be in any crossfire."

A few moments later the heavy, oaken door slammed violently shut. Loras would not be happy with him, all cocksure bravery and a zealous self-belief, but there were no longer any sureties in the situation now.

"So, Sevastian," he muttered lowly to himself. "I thought it would have been Aylwin, but maybe I was wrong."

With another sigh - which came often to him in recent days - he lifted the goblet to his lips, to take a long, hungry gulp. If there was one any to cope with an impending civil conflict, this was it. It soothed his frayed nerves, which had been pent up for weeks on end. Seeing all the plotting and scheming whilst being powerless to end it did not do wonders for his health.

"At least I can try to throw cold water on the flames," he decided to himself. It would be better than finding himself at the headman's block for sins that did not exist, at least.

Staedtler la Stylo

Staedtler was at a heavilly papered desk, looking like a man not quite set straight in the world. A gruesomely thick blot of war, hatred, and treason sat upon his woodwork. It was a mess; painful to witness, impossible to penetrate with reason, and so heavilly tainted with the venom of hitherto unseen feuds, boiling and frothing out from the underworld, that it was practically torture to behold. Unfortunately, Staedtler was not a practical man, and he found himself duty-bound to dissect the trauma, personally. Leaning onto a little island he had spared from the sea of parchment flooding his desk, he was head in hands, bleary eyed and near nauseous, grimly nursing the aftermath of a late night and early morning cocktail. With an ice-bag pressed to his scalp, Staedtler was regretting his timings.

"What a day to try and plan a wedding," he said to himself, massaging the exhaustion from his eyes; an effort akin to chopping a tree down by the leaves.

There were eager-paced footsteps upon the hallway. A single, dull knock at the door sounded, almost strong as a kick, shaking the hinges.

"You still digging through this muck yourself?" Irina called across the room, throwing her coat upon the foot of the bed. "You should really hire a scribe. Details are overrated. The beauty is in the summaries of politics." She began unweaving her hair from a ropish plait as she approached her husband-to-be.

Today she had been overseeing the militia and their bowmen as they went about scavenging unspent arrows from corpses about the walls, taking notes and making sketches as she went.

"I value the hands-on experience," Staedtler sighed in a poor attempt at lightheartedness.

"Feh," Irina snorted, unlacing her boots as she leaned onto Staedtler's chair. "You know, today I saw a man pull an arrow - head n' all - out from the eye of on those things. It was a tough job. It wasn't stuck or anything, but, problem was that it was a good arrow. Feathers were clean, shaft unbroken. Perfect salvage, I guess. I'd say otherwise, but times are tough, and I'm not a soldier." Irina began to mime as the soldier. "So he got down on his knees and began to pull at it, but that wouldn't do. So, he went to worm his finger into the white of its eye to help ease the arrow out. Blood everywhere. Puss and viscera all over his face and shoulder, even some on my boots. Serves me right for standing too close. You're cleaning those, by the way." She pointed to the bloodied boots she had just carelessly tossed aside beneath to the open window.

"At this point, I'd take boot scrubbing over any more of this," Staedtler sighed, scanning line after line of short-fused sentiments. "Did he get the arrow in the end?"

"Yes, but that's not the point," she said, walking beside the desk. "What I am saying is, that this poor, messy little soldier, three knuckles deep in an animal's head, shirked out of three week's pay by a clerical error, had a healthier look to him than you do, right here and now, slumped at your desk."

"I'll be honest," Staedtler said. "Reading through all this, hour after hour? I feel like I'm three knuckles deep into the heads of most of Lurian Nobility. Sure, it's nasty stuff, but what can I do? Can't just walk away from this, turn my back on the hell behind me."

Staedtler looked up to Irina, who was standing at his back, stooped over him, watching him read. She saw her lover, tired and utterly unwound from a long, hard day doing nothing, and smiled. She kissed his head and walked around the desk to the other side, standing between it and the window. She grabbed the treestump of stacked letters in both hands, and, in one broad motion, flung the scattering bouquet of string and papers out into the afternoon air. With a dusting of her palms, she went to the drinks cabinet, took an odd pair of hatched glasses with a full bottle of port, and slammed them right beneath Staedtler's nose.

"You know what? That ... " Staedtler said with a dry, flat expression. "... is exactly what I needed."

"Out with the bad poison," she said, flicking the surviving documents off onto the floor with the back of her hand, like a suit maker plucking dirt from a customer's lapels. "In with the good." She slid her betrothed a full glass. "Now let's plan this wedding. You, me, and our good, Nid Tekian friend here. But only as long as I don't have to sit at your desk."

She threw herself onto the bed, barefoot and carefree, and took a wild swig from the bottle.

"Now," she began. "I'm thinking flowers. Thousands​ of flowers."

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

A couple days after both Tyra and Jonsu were wounded

Tyra had been fine for a couple of days now, thanks to Goriad's healers. She had been visiting him twice daily, partly for the interesting conversation and partly because she had been waiting for Jonsu to come to. She didn't know what he planned to do with the commoner woman, but felt like she ought to know more about her.

That's when Luria started collapsing. Tyra read a few letters in her own room that evening, grabbed them, got her sword, axe and dagger, and ran. She ran to Goriad. She felt, instinctively, he would be a person who would join her with this. He had protected the Emperor in Girich, and had followed him to Askileon. He was skilled. He wasn't Lurian.

Tyra burst through the antichambre, where Jonsu was tied, looked at her and shrugged. She quickly released the woman and whispered "You can go now, we have other things to worry about - but I'll want a word another day."

Without another look at the commoner, she banged on his bedroom door. "Goriad! Goriad! Get ready, we must go to the Emperor NOW. There might be a civil war looming."

Goriad Gabanus

The place within the palace that Goriad had been given was not extremely large and so he had turned his bedroom in a study as well. For the last two hours he had been staring at a map of an extremely forested area. Perhaps unrecognizable to most, but he knew the place by heart, his home was there. As he studied the map further and drifted back into memmories, the sun began to set.

He took off the shirt he was wearing to put on an evening attire and walk through the palace, but then suddenly knocking was heard upon his door and since he had not closed it well the door itself opened. As Goriad turned around he stood face to face with Tyra ""Goriad! Goriad! Get ready, we must go to the Emperor NOW. There might be a civil war looming." she said quite loudly.

Without shirt it became clear that despite his 55 years, Goriad was still reasonably fit due to all his travels, although slowly the years started to take hold on his body. A few scars here and there, although above all the tatoo covering almost his entire upper body must have drawn most attention. The world at the center kleeved by a red sea, drops of blood drawing down, a 4 pointed star on his left chest, a six-pointed star upon his lower stomach and a many pointed star upon his right chest.

"Lady Tyra, my apologies milady," he said as he reached for his shirt to put it on again. "A civil war? What exactly occured?" he said as he put on his shirt, yet before he moved out of the room he walked towards the table first and picked up a small curved blade and a short pointed blade as well and tucked them away.

18th July

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Bennet Selemnir

Bennet looked at the stack of letters on his travel desk wearily. A gust of wind blew open the entrance to his tent, scattering them every which way. No matter. He had already been through them in all their political tedium.

He spotted one of his scribes lingering outside. He rolled his eyes.

"Enter," he barked. The man scuttled in, ignoring the smashed wreckage of some camp furniture that had recently been the victim of Bennet's ire.

He had not had an outburst like that in ages. He had thought them done with, but the events of recent days had boiled his blood. He did not like being conflicted. There was one path to be followed, and it was always forward. Never sideways.

Bennet grabbed the letter produced by his scribe and waved him out. He inspected it, noting that no noble seal could be found. He rolled his eyes again. His staff knew better than to bring him the scratchings of commoners.

Bennet opened it and began to read.

Margrave Bennet Selemnir

Marshal of The Emperor's Will

Lord of Askileon Purlieus

My Lord. Apologies for troubling you with my words, and doubly for not doing so in person.

You do not know me, nor I you. I trouble you only to bring to you some sad news from the streets of Askileon.

Witnesses in the city tell a story of a brave woman, one of little height with fire in her hair. A common woman, but clearly her heart could not be measured by such scales. Recently the city has seen an infestation of the unliving, as of course has much of the realm. We common folk depend on a brave few willing to combat them while you lords defend us on the battlefield.

These witnesses tell a harrowing tale of this woman facing down several of the largest beasts to have been recorded recently. While she acquitted herself well, and slayed all but a few, I fear she was unable to survive the battle. I have been told that she was known as "Delia," and she claimed some relation to your family. I know not the voracity of those claims, nor do I wish to sully your name with such. But should they be true, I though you might wish to know of her valiant demise. The city owes her a great debt. Know that she will be toasted in the simple inns and taverns of the common folk across the city.

Humbly,

Terrick Dilford

Master of the Inn of the Three Winds

Bennet read over the letter a second time. Delia. He remembered the woman. She had darkened his door on a few occasions in service to the realm. He remembered also her as a young girl, kept around their old estates before they fell. He knew she was one of his father's many indiscretions. He tried to summon in his mind an image her face, but it eluded him. She used to sing, he recalled. But the tune eluded him as well.

Bennet allowed himself one more moment of thought on the woman.

Then he crumpled the letter and tossed it in the dirt among the others.

"Haldred!" he barked, summoning his captain. It was time to check on his wounded men. They had taken heavier losses in Ciarin Tut than they had in some time.

But, as most things, men could be easily replaced.

Nicholas Archival

The door slammed open, revealing a shaking and sweating Loras. Clearly he had come running, with a parchment in hand.

"Cousin!" he yelled, panic-stricken.

Normally Nicholas would have admonished him for such a rude arrival, but the letter caught his eye.

"Hand it here. Now," he prompted, before simply taking the initiative and stormed forward to claim it from the younger man.

He scanned its contents. Then again. Then a third time. Only a hours ago had the reports been sent to his office, and now the lunatic had declared it to the realm?

"Bring all my couriers and bring them quickly. There's no chance she'll succeed in this mad endeavour, but if she manages to prolong it, who knows what she may attempt."

Without another word to spare, Nicholas rushed to the most deadly weapon available to him; his parchment and quill.

Staedtler la Stylo

The panting courier rapped his knuckles against the bedroom door. He was hunched over on his knees like a leper. Throat dry, ankles sore, boot leathers eating into the skin of his feet; it had been a long afternoon of running.

"My Earl?" the boy wheezed. In one hand, he held a sweat-soaked rag, in the other, a bushel of fist-crumpled letters adorned with Imperial seals.

"If your letters have anything mentioning Emperors, Kings, assassins, or schemes, Hanley," Staedtler shouted from within his room. "I want you to go and eat every last one that does. Right now. Understood?"

"I'm sorry, but," Hanley choked back a mouthful of dry spit. "It's important. Very much important."

"Important enough to eat, Hanley?"

Hanley looked at the papers in his hands. Dry, sun-cooked parchment, wax, and letter glue. His lips were cracked, his throat horse, and his mouth was peeling at the sides, rotting for a drink. Each and every envelope became a sickening mouthful of husk to even consider. Even from behind the door, he knew Staedtler saw exactly what he was thinking, and how horrid it was to behold.. Hanley gagged upon the painful memories of letter licking from his days in the dusty, old Courier's Office.

"No, my lord," he said.

"Good. Now go and catch your breath, and have yourself a drink."

"Yes, my lord. Thank you."

19th July

Autumn Day -- Poryatown

Tohrm Elrath

It had been a chaotic end to the festival in Nid Tek.

Tohrm had noted a scribe, herald and messenger all approach Nicholas during his time there and eventually, the Imperial Magistrate had rode off at some haste from the site. Likewise, Tohrm had said his goodbyes swiftly and began to saddle his horse for his journey back to Dantooine. An uneasiness had settled in his stomach. He knew something was afoot, but could not quite put a finger on what that might be. But to see the Magistrate spooked from the festival was certainly an indicator for foul circumstances taking hold.

Tohrm did not even think to gather his squires. They would find their drunken ways back to his company soon enough. He had far more pressing matters to worry about. A message had been left at the stables for him once he was ready to leave, summoning him back to the courts of Earl Greybrook.

It seemed as if the Earl had realised his attempt at meeting him and had called for a council of some sort. The courts needed administering in Dantooine regardless and Tohrm was sure that his letter must have reached him by now.

So once more, he rode north along the coast, not even stopping at Poryatown for respite. He noticed that the city itself was absolutely alive. He could hear the shouting as he made his way past at speed. It was not the kind of bustle that was healthy though. Crowds had begun to form outside the main gates of the city and people were rushing to and fro from their houses to collect belongings.

The image burned itself unsteadily in Tohrm's mind as he rode back to Dantooine. All the while, he contemplated what exactly he would have to say to Earl Greybrook when he arrived. It had been before the festival that they had first met, in the chambers of their King. This would be the first, and possibly best time to gauge his liege's disposition toward his faith. It was possible even that he would simply banish them from Dantooine. He had not asked for permission beforehand to build upon that land, or take up estate along the borders of the province.

Tohrm amused himself slightly at that thought. He was an 'illegal knight', at this point in time. He had no real justification for where he had chosen to place his founding monastery, and had not sought the lords support to do it.

Nevermind. All things would sort themselves out in good time. And as the road grew shorter, he could see the place where he would receive his ultimatum. Sea Cliff Keep. The home of Earl Greybrook.

He slowed his horse as he began to reach the gates. It had been almost a full days ride, but he was wide awake. Something about the fatefulness of what was about to occur, exhilirated him.

He let the guard captain know of his arrival, and awaited the Earl to admit him.

Solomon Greybrook

A Fateful Encounter

Earlier, as the Nid Tek festival concludes

And as the road grew shorter, he could see the place where he would receive his ultimatum. Sea Cliff Keep. The home of Earl Greybrook.

As the sun had tracked across the sky, Solomon had taken to his role rather well. After taking a hour to see to it that his personal affairs and those of the IAP were completed, he descended down the spiraling staircase that allowed passage between floors of the tower.

It had been a significantly long period of time since Solomon had worn full political garb. Due to the sheer amount of travelling, he could not carry the clothes with him. Nevertheless, Solomon wore what would be considered to be fashionable in Lurian nobility. A fine black doublet with a crisp white linen shirt and boots provided a rather sharp but powerful appearance for him. Upon his family's request, for a birthday that seemed a lifetime ago, the shirt he wore held elegant embroidery with a martlet at the ends. With the significant amount of time campaigning, he requested for a shave and trimming of his rather unkempt hair. With hair slicked back and a sharp stubble, he began his first court session as Earl of Dantooine.

Due to the period of time which Dantooine was not governed under Imperial rule, there had been a build up of legal complaints and petitions. These requests were met with continued enthusiasm. From petty thievery to more serious offences which were cut and dry - Solomon enjoyed this work. Nevertheless, looking at his surroundings, this was not what originally he had intended for the Greybrook court. With time, the stone keep would portray a far more official, empowering and authoritative court rather than the one he hosted. One notion that he was proud of was the Greybrook Guard that lined the room and the banner of his house and of the Empire draped behind his chair.

However, these requests and petitions did not preoccupy his mind. It was the eventual meeting with Sir Tohrm that concerned him. The man himself, from his letters and brief appearances, was just and trustworthy - much aligned to his own. Nevertheless, the construction of a monastery without consultation and a religion that was completely unheard of had concerned his Uncle Carlos greatly. To Solomon, he wanted to hear what the man had to say for himself. He was intrigued to see a lawful and just man believed in.

Will the lull in proceedings and the rather large grumble of a nearby courtier, Solomon saw the face of his uncle and another man - Sir Tohrm. With that, Solomon stood up from his chair and announced:

"The court shall now break for lunch. We shall reconvene once the sun's heat begins to die down and my courtiers are no longer distracted by their stomachs!"

With a small giggle made by a few female courtiers by the entrance to the Watchtower and the embarrassment of the courtiers in mention, Solomon ascended the steps to his private study room. He knew that his Uncle would know what to do.

Opening the door ajar, Solomon went to the small dining balcony and sat down to observe the perfect Autumn's day over the sea. Pouring out two small glasses of Dantooine Wine, a new batch of made from white grapes recently acquired, he awaited the arrival of his fellow noble.

Tohrm Elrath

Tohrm followed in the wake of Solomon's uncle. Still caked in the filth of his long ride to Dantooine, he was not a particularly welcoming, nor noble sight. It did not seem to bother the knight though, as he strode with purpose alongside the Earl's uncle. He noted that the man made no attempt to acknowledge him aside from directing him to the personal quarters of the Earl. Once he had arrived, Tohrm noticed the Earl and his drinks by the balcony and made his entrance clear, with a dutiful bow.

"Tohrm Elrath, knight of Earth Hall. We have met before Earl, though not quite in this capacity. I hope you will excuse my presentation, the haste of the road and my duties did not leave time to freshen up."

He regarded the room in its entirety as well as the Earl. Tohrm spent a few moments simply considering how he would begin, and made no motion to take the second glass of wine beside the Earl. Instead, he began his discourse in earnest.

"It may come as a surprise to you that I have taken the liberty to stake claim upon the borderlands of Dantooine. I do not do this to draw ire from the realm or from those who have rightfully been given this land. Given the time I have been considering my actions and the path of which I walk, I have had to act with a certain measure of... decisiveness. This is meant in no insult to your person or the realm at large. I sincerely believe the words I speak today will alleviate any transgressions I have made upon your household or Luria at large, as well as assauage any concerns you may have of my purpose."

Tohrm did not await a response from the Earl, yet he began to pace, from one end of the room to the other, briefly punctuating a point by stopping to face the Earl, with vigorous body language.

"The Celestial Scales. No doubt you have heard from the people that now dwell in that abandoned part of the region. Squatting amongst uninhabited houses and working diligently to construct that which I have instructed. A monastery to my faith. But why here?

It is simple really. To bring the Empire to its significant borders. As far from the Civilized realm as possible, so that it may branch out to a greater demense. I know that Luria is predominantly split between the two parts of Sanguis Astroism, and its Ecclesial counterpart. And this has been the case for a very long time. So long as I have called Luria home, and long before that time. In truth, I do not wish to disrupt the faith of these people, but it has become clear to me due to the actions of some of the Astroist priests as well as my time in the realm that disruption is what I bring."

"As soon as my faith was declared, more than one of the Astroist priests decided to pay a visit and try to sway the people back to the cause of the Bloodstars. I do not fault them in this endeavour, why would they do aught but that? However, I must admit... when was the last time the Astroist faith truly worked within the realm to aid its followers? Until the founding of my monastery, but one priest resided in these lands, and he was not even well received by the heads of his faith back in the northern realms. The man Turin is who I speak of, of course. But recently another priest landed on our borders, near Nid Tek. It appears that the Astroists fear what may become of my faith, yet I have heard no correspondence from them. Not one has attempted to approach me and only seek to undermine what I hope to achieve. And yet, as I say this, they are not even aware of what that is exactly.

It speaks great deals to me, these actions. A certain Ignorance. One which Eliad would abhor. But I do not blame them. In their history, they have always ruled over all of Dwilight as the significant faith of many of the kingdoms. They have not known contest or debate for just as many years I imagine. What happens to a faith in this case? There is a reason they have been silent amongst Dwilight for this long, and it is because they have become idle in administering the faithful. It is likely that until provoked, the people merely followed them for traditions sake. I do not doubt this in the slightest.

Yet my faith would not see them removed. There is nothing about the Astroist beliefs that openly warrant my faiths ire. They have done good and evil in the realms, but I truly believe the Astroists have worked for the bettermen of the realms over the years they have existed within Dwilight. Yet they are ancient and complacent.

I wish to assure you, my faith would not bring bloodshed to these followers. If the Astroists wish to remain within Luria, I brook no quarrel with them. My followers will not treat them as enemies, not even as misguided. It is of their own perogative that they serve the Bloodstars. I for one, would have it no other way."

"It is best then that I explain what it is I am trying to achieve here, if not the removal of Astroism. Since that is not my goal inherently."

He took a deep breath and now face the Earl directly as he spoke.

"The Celestial Scales are a means by which Man measures himself. In a balance of the Scales, one finds a true wisdom which would lead him to a greater life. Not one away from the earth itself. No. This Wisdom that has been provided us by the Divine Pentarchy, the Celestials of which we derive this Wisdom, wish us to lead better lives upon Dwilight, even all of Battleterra. Their goal is thus."

"Civilization."

"They created this, in ages gone by. The Codexs speak of an ancient time when these beings walked amongst us, as mortal and tangible as we are. They created what it means to be Civilized. They built the first Civilization. Through our actions, our creeds, we still follow this same path. Though loosely, and misguided as that may be. There are parts of every realm which hold these teachings to be true. But they have been lost for this age and further. My family, often spoke proverbs to one another, words of the Celestial Scales, that I never truly understood where they came from or how they came to be. After searching the old archives tucked away in the University of Dwilight, I discovered lost tomes that illuminate this riddle. This Wisdom."

"From then, I shall always hold this to be true. This Wisdom guides me as it will others in the future. Of that I am sure."

"The purpose of it, is to help Man understand his place within the world. How he acts, how he should act, and why it is the way of things. Civilization has always been the goal of any kingdom, whether imagined or not, this is the case. Luria exemplifies it above all us. We are Civilized..."

Tohrm trailed off, pondering his next words as he added.

"But are we truly? In ways, yes, in others, not so much. But man is fallible. Man can err. But it is in Mans mistakes that he learns to do better. That he prospers and grows stronger. If he has the Wisdom to see his failings. That is the Wisdom of the Divine Pentarchy."

"It is all well and good I say that this is the case. How do we know this to be true though? I shall elaborate."

"The Five Codexs are the recorded teachings of the Five Aspects, though incomplete as I may hold them, many more will be recovered over the coming years, of that I am certain. From what scant pieces I have collected, one can begin to discern the true meaning of what Civilization is. How one can strive to make it greater."

"The Five Aspects are this."

"Bellator. The greatest warrior to have ever lived. It is said in proverb and storied legend that the man had the strength of a giant, the courage to face dragons. Yet he also held Humility in his heart. He knew that Man could not treat all of their foes with anger, rushing headlong into battle. He trained and tutored warriors to be more like him. He was the one who held the first Tournament, to decide who was the greatest fighters to take his place when he left the mortal world behind. He was the first to muster an army to drive back the Beast from the first Civilized realm. He was the first, to go delving into the depths of caves and catacombs to vanquish the Beast by his own hand. Yet he never boasted of his skill and strength. He always sought to find a better to replace him. He always sought peace with other Men if they meant no harm to his people. Bellator was Might. Bellator was Humility. Bellator, was Honour."

"Iuris was the mediator of this realm. A man who understood what would be needed to guide others in the ways of Civilization. Justice. He wrote the very first law codes that many realms have partially incorporated to this day. His was a mediation of Justice. Magistrate of the first Civilization, he knew what people should follow to help themselves and eachother. To keep the unruly in line and reward the obedient. Yet he never truly lorded over those who sought his counsel. Instead, he instilled within others a sense of Defiance. He wanted Man to understand that law and order is kept in place so all may prosper by it, but others would use it so that they could dictate the lives of others. He knew this would happen, as he could not rule the mortal worlds law forever. So he taught Loyalty and Defiance in equal measure. That is how Man finds Justice amidst the turmoil of politics and life."

"Eliad. A patron of sorts for our own University, she created the written word. Without Eliad, Man could never have done as we do today. Sign treaties with foreign realms, trade with far off lands. Record the Knowledge we hold so dear to our culture. Eliad made sure the history of Civilization was preserved by opening schools and teaching those mortals with the keenest of minds to write and record. She knew that even if a realm was to fall, the memory of it would forever be preserved. If ever a ruler made false judgement, it was by her invention that he would be held accountable. But writing was not simply good enough, if the ones writing the words did not pay attention to the page. She taught many to debate the written word. To sit in council and decide the validity of these statements penned to parchment. And thus education was brought to Civilization, Understanding of the world at large and the realms that lived within it. Clarity would be found between peoples and the realms would prosper."

"Artis, a wily sort, took the forage of the earliest peoples and stored it aside. He seperated the good from the bad so that there was no spoil. The mediocre was left for consumption, much to the distaste of the people, but it was prudent of him to do so. The best of the grains he buried to preserve them. In this effort however, Artis learnt the art of agriculture. The very basis of all lives on Battleterra. Without the Frugality of Artis, we would likely still be grubbing around in bushes to find our next meal. Even the wine you sip at now Earl, would be but a figment of your imagination. But this was not enough. Artis knew that the harvests he reaped for the first Civilization would not be enough. There would always be more people flocking to their city and he would have to provide for them all. Thus he saved and planted in greater quantity. Through many years of careful management, the fields were ripe and full and the people still had plenty to go around. He took these grains to feed people, but realised that there was no way that they could be distributed to those that needed them most. Or those, that had the acumen to do best with them. And thus, Artis took a rock from the ground. Silvery in its hue. And next to it, he picked up another, more lustrous and golden. He chipped these rocks down and handed them out, as payment to those who worked hard, he gave the golden stones. To those that lazed in the fields, he gave the silver ones. Those who could buy more would work harder, or save it to one side in case of a failed harvest. Those who showed nothing but apathy, could barely afford to live. This, was the Wealth that he created, and by it, Prosperity came to this Civilization."

"Finally, Gloria came to this now bustling city, with craftsmen, warriors, scholars and merchants. Other cities had begun to rise up in its shadow and it was a glorious place. Gloria, last of the five brought with her a great Beast. The people were afraid of this giant monstrous dog, a three headed creature the size of ten men! Bellator was ready to smite it when the Beast came to heel. All looked on in awe. Gloria had tamed the Beast and used it for the betterment of Man. The dog stood at the gates of the great city and guarded it from any trespassers. Gloria knew that Civilization was what Man had strived for, and only when Man could conquer the Beast, would they truly find peace. So Gloria taught man how to control the Beast, and if the Beast would not listen, then she told them to put it to the sword. And Man cried, what if the other cities come to take all that we have gained? What should we do? Gloria knew that strife was unavoidable. Man always coveted more, not necessarily to its detriment, but it would be naive to believe that Man would never turn against one another, even with Beasts rampaging outside the walls. So she instructed that, strife must be quelled as swiftly and brutally as needs be. Man must be focussed on its true enemy. And if they did not, then it would not wait patiently at the gate any longer. If it was ignored for too long, the Beast would come for its next meal. And all it wished was Ruin. The mortals agreed with Gloria and understood now what Civilization was. It was in this moment, that the Five Aspects ascended to the heavens, at the peak of the Civilized world, so that they may always watch over Man. And Man would have to abide by this Wisdom, lest a great evil become of their kind."

Tohrm regarded the Earl for a moment, yet it was clear that the knight was determined to continue. Swiftly after he finished, he began to pace once more, talking all the while.

"So what does this mean for Luria? Are we the bastion of Civilization we claim to be? I think not. There are many parts of the Five Aspects we have faltered in. And that is the goal of the Celestial Scales, to identify, and then right our misgivings. Our failings. For if we ignore them for too long... only Ruin will be left for us."

"Us Lurians pride ourselves on Honour. Honour that is self granted. But this is not what Honour is. It is not us who bestow Honour on ourselves. It is others that must do it, or it is false. We say we are the Mightiest realm. By that, our armies are strong. Our warriors numerous. And yet the Beasts ravage our land even now. Even now, our knights are captured nearly daily by these creatures. Yet the hordes keep coming. Are we truly so Mighty? And of Humility. This is something Luria I believe has always lacked. Yes, we may be the bastion of Civilization to the rest of the realms, but we are so far from truly realising what Civilization really is, that are these claims not false? We have so much we need to repair, to rebuild. Once our lands are free of the Beast, no doubt the nobles of this realm will lord about, spouting nonsense about how powerful we are. Yet many were brought to their knees by the Beast. And yet we will claim so boldly that we swept them aside as if they were nothing. This arrogance, is detrimental to our realm, and will only cause a greater fall further down the line. Our armies, our Might, must be tempered by Humility. If we are to defeat the Beast, we must understand that they are always a threat. Why do we look to other kingdoms along our border, when our own is so out of shape? Our own lands burn and yet we think of doing the same to other realms. This is not Honour, that, is Dishonour. It is under the orders of our Suzerain Emperor that we sought to antagonize other realms even whilst ours was being beset upon. That, is Dishonour. And too many of us showed a level of arrogance that has cost Luria good men and women. We must realise our mistakes and seek to rectify them, if we can truly call ourselves Honourable."

"Do we have Justice in our realm? I truly believe that the Magistrate works with the best intentions in his heart, but it is the Loyalty the nobility shows towards the Emperor which is holding us back. We should not be Loyal to one man, as I think the Emperor is but a man, as I am. The violet smells to him as it does to me. The element shows to him as it does to me. All his senses have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man. So why do we put all our faith behind this figure, when truly, the figure of our Civilization is Luria. Not the Emperor of Luria. Our Loyalty is misplaced, this too we must seek to rectify. The Empire is where we should place our faith. Any man or woman could sit that throne and dictate our realms path, yet it is the realm itself that we serve, or should serve. We have lacked a sense of Defiance to the Emperor's orders, and it has cost us much. We have taken land from our allies, we have cast aside our diplomacy to insult other realms without reason. In this, our Justice has failed."

"It is without a doubt that our realm does not Prosper. Every day, our Panetier speaks of how the realm edges closer to a harsh winter, where people will have to scrimp to get by. But it is not their job to do this. As their leaders, we were the ones who should have shown Frugality when it was needed. We had the Wealth of the largest Empire on Dwilight with which to do that, and yet we still failed. There are those nobles amongst us that hoard this Wealth for their own personal gain. They sit inside our greatest cities and covet its riches. Nobles who do not deserve the Wealth of the Empire are given it freely to pursue their ambitions, when other knights who fight endlessly against the Beast are left with nothing to replenish their coffers. And yet we also sought war. We had a time, we had a chance to save for the worst, and we squandered it. We are not a realm of Prosperity, but Poverty. This too, must be recitfied. We need Peace."

"The matter of Clarity is a curious one. I believe it does not necessarily pertain to the Empire, but the faiths that sit within it. As I have said, I have not been approached by a single members of either branches of Astroist faith. And so, their clergy sits amongst the workers at the monastery and seek to convert them from the Celestial Scales. But why? They do not even know of our creed, they simply see it as wrong because they have no Knowledge, no Understanding. Many in the realm have come to speak to me regarding this, and for that, I do believe the nobility of the realm hold Clarity within their hearts, or at least seek it so. This I believe is commendable, but the realm will need time to be able to realise this. Time that we are not afforded by the Beast and Man alike."

At this, Tohrm let his words sink in further, a darker countenance taking hold of his person. He began to speak again in a far graver tone.

"Civilization. Are we truly a bastion of this most sacred thing? Of all the Aspects, we falter or are not given the opportunity to realise their potential. Can we truly claim this? We are still a Civilized realm, one that has the greatest potential of all. But we require reform to see this possible. Reform that has been halted and blocked for far too long. Reform, that must come, and soon. If not, then Ruin will continue to plague our lands, as the Beast already does. We slip further from this most sacred thing and we do not even see it happening. Civilization is faltering, and I will work until my last breath to see that it is not stolen from us. That it is not taken from the Lurian people."

"This is my goal. My quest. I will not rest until it is done. I hope you can truly understand what I wish to achieve here. It is not a detrimental thing. Many believe my stance on the political stage to be counteractive to the realm, but it is all with its glory in mind. I want our realm to prosper, above all else. I simply believe many do not understand how to achieve that. If we follow the Wisdom laid out by the Divine Pentarchy, we can see our realm thrive again. Luria will be brought back to the forefront of Dwilight, and we will know Civilization."

"I seek thusly, that you might pardon me for my transgressions. I have taken land upon your domain without your permission. But I do so for the good of the realm. I do not wish to act against your desires, and if you wish me to leave here then I will. I leave this decision to you, at your discretion. Please, I do not need an answer now if you wish time to deliberate on it. There is much to consider, of course."

At that, Tohrm bowed once more and awaited the response of the Earl. His eyes lingered on the glass of wine for a second. His mouth felt a little parched after his lengthy talk after all.

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Isabella Pavus

Isabella walked onto the balcony at the late Rendorian Imperial Complex.

"May I present, Suzerain Empress Isabella Pavus the First!" called out the steward, placing the Lurian crown upon her head.

"This is our Luria. One may call it such a benevolent dictatorship. We shall get things done, and we shall prosper. I hereby announce the new capital of the Suzerain Emperor of Luria Nova to be right here - Askileon."

Myr Arnickles Renodin

Upon learning of Isabella's presence in Askileon Myr made haste to Rendorian Imperial Complex. He shot through door after door and gate after gate like an arrow, upon seeing the lion seal and familiar face no guard stopped him. In the vestibule he seized a courtier by the arms and shouted in his face: "lead me to the Emperor!"

After shaking off the initial shock courtier mumbled: "Y-you mean the Empress?"

Myr squeezed his arms and felt the bones squeeking - "don't make mockery of me, lead me to the Emp... what do you mean the Empress?!"

The courtier said through teeth clenched in pain - "Suzerein Empress Isabella Pavus the Usurp... uhm, the First. Her Imperial Highness now sits the Lurian throne."

Myr let go of his arms dumbfounded. His confusion gave way to deep thinking and that gave way to anger... no, not anger - fury, a rage burning with the fire of a thousand suns. He unsheathed his sword and attacked the nearby column, swinging, thrusting and slashing, accompanying the sound of metal on marble with his own shout of fury. He swung the blade with all the force his muscles could provide but the steel refused to crumble and blade refused to break.

Horseless childhood and long strolls through deserts and mountains reinforced Myr's legs with tendonds of iron and muscles of granite, so the kick that opened the doors to the throne room was in force akin to one a destrier could deliver. One of the doorwings escaping the grasp of it's hinges provided just enough distraction for Myr to find himself merely a yard away from the Usurper, his sword in hand. Guards rushed forward in shock but they could never reach him in time. It was just then that he...

Stabbed the floor and propped himself with his sword as he knelt in deep genuflexion.

"Your Imperial Highness Isabella of House Pavus, I pledge my Imperial Allegiance to you and I shall serve and protect your life and give my own should it be requested. Loyal to the Imperial Throne I serve." - young knight said through clenched teeth, unhidden hatred in his voice.

Nether Leroux

Nether quietly led his horse towards the last place he'd been told Isabella had been seen, he had never failed a duty and at this stage it wasn't for the Khalkar or Luria it was so that a lone lady that had dared to shake the system of an empire and remind it that none are far from the touch of fate. He would marry her regardless, although they'd never met face to face he had begun to like her via the letters they'd exchanged some regarding their respective realm cultures and others about philosophy. He finally believed that she might be the one to rival his thirst for knowledge and debate, all is as fate decides he thought.

He left his horse in a stable and quietly went about town until he took a break to write his journal, perhaps waiting for someone or waiting to be found.

Dear Journal,

Life is certainly full of surprises and fortuna will always remain a flip of a coin, one day she will shine upon you and the next turn your gold to dirt. I can't say my impression of Luria hasn't changed somewhat after the plot I was implicated in, understandable more due to my trade but then again Infiltrators will always be looked down upon in any type of life, so I can forgive them in my mind. I remained myself, calm and collected and here we are....why am I even doing this, surely the reason the Khalkar and Luria were to offer two to wed was so that it would be tied by blood...but will Luria accept the blood of what they might deem a traitor...some might some won't...and then of course the Emperor had wished it...but with him currently away what is the point ....I guess I'm not doing this for either anymore, I'm doing this for myself...and someone I've come to respect regardless of her choices and fate.

I don't know if I'll have a reason to remain in Luria, it has been an interesting lesson in politics for sure and I won't forget it. I guess I can flip the coin after I am wed, for even a short day as it will be...best to make it a memory to remember and celebrate when I am myself at deaths door.

End of journal,

He closed his book and hid it within a discreet pocket within his jacket. "So what now ?" he pulled out a coin and looked at the engraved markings of Oligarch currency. "Heads...tails...lets take a wager."

Jonsu

Jonsu woke, and found herself restrained. She took note of her surroundings, and was struck by the displays of wealth. Clearly the resident was highborn, or a wealthy merchant as her parents had been. After a time a woman rushed in... The same noble she had run into before. Jonsu was untied, and briefly acknowledged this woman's words. There was a panic in her voice. Jonsu hesitated. The smart move was to leave and steer clear of the city...

Jonsu listened to her talk to someone in another room... Her blood chilled when she heard his voice. The arrogant bastard from the academy! She almost bolted to the door... But she stopped herself, stepped into hall and kneeled before Tyra.

"My lady..."

William Fitz Roberts

The man ran through the streets of the city, blind panic overcoming him. He could hear pounding feet behind him and he knew his former master's bravi would be on him soon. He turned a corner and cursed all the gods that he knew as he saw a dead end. He turned and saw Fabrizio grinning at him. The man had not even bothered to draw a blade, he just smiled at the former scribe

'Well, well, Alphonse, looks like you are stuck now, don't it?'

Alphonse quaked in fear as Fabrizio and the other bravi closed in on him

A short while later, he was dragged into the central courtyard of the Fitz Roberts villa. Alphonse waited for William to appear, hoping that he could beg for his forgiveness. All hopes were dashed when he saw it was Anne who stepped out of the far doorway. Stunningly beautiful, yet terrifying in countenance, the wife of William advanced on the hapless scribe

'Your little mistake could have cost my husband his head!' She roared 'It is clear now, you support the usurper. You are a spy in this household' 'Please, m'lady, I misheard his lordship's orders, is all. I thought he said support the loyalists, I realise now he said support those loyal to the true Luria...' Alphonse pleaded with Anne, but it was not enough

'Silence, wretch' she snarled and snapped her fingers. Alphonse was dragged over to a wooden block and his arms strapped down. One of the bravi raised an axe and brought it down twice, severing each arm at the elbow. Alphonse continued to scream as he was flung to the floor and the same was done to his legs at the knee. Through the white heat of agony, he noticed something that made him cry out in abject terror once more. A large cauldron was being dragged into the centre of the courtyard and a fire being lit beneath it.

Anne watched as the man was lowered into the cauldron and the water born to boil. She smiled as the man's screams echoed through the streets of the city, waking the whole of this quarter. Her husband's next scribe would not be so careless

Leif Wilkins

Jolly good Leif is filled with great grief,

An empire torn,

New strength must be born,

Come hither, raise arms,

Gather all men from townships and farms,

The pretender empress sits high,

Please - open your eyes!

She throws false hope like a fake token,

Filthy, untrue and so broken,

It smells like death when her short legs are open,

She croaks, she shags, a filthy tail she wags,

Like those of old legends of swampy old hags,

Come hither brethren, sisters,

Stand for your realm and wreck all these blisters!

20th July

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Isabella Pavus

Following protests, Empress Isabella surrendered the crown. She had achieved such without bloodshed, but now men bled in Askileon. Now she, and the late Emperor Consort Nether, would enjoy the time that she had left. Married life came not as how she thought it would, but it came indeed. She could safely say that the marriage would last her whole life, nonetheless.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Dame Isabella, I will not hide the fact that I am glad to be free of my vow to you. However allow me this singular kindness - to lend you my sword this once, albeit in much different fashion.

I have never taken a life of a man, and yours I shall take not with hatred, for my hatred died with your Imperial Reign, but with honour and pity. I challenge thee to a duel to till death."

Leif Wilkins

Heads and Tails

As time shall sure pass,

One must pluck their head out of their arse,

Unite and sing together,

May Luria strong remain forever,

Knights, Margraves, Dukes and Kings,

Embrace each other like chainmail rings,

Do not point fingers or live in fear,

For all of you are held so dear.

Winter Evening -- Poryatu

Isabella Pavus

Isabella sits upon the throne, polishing the crown. As Myr comes in, her idle hands got closer to her chest, . She places her hands together, her fingers now riddled with jeweller, before bowing her head.

"You are a true honourable man, Myr. Rise. If rebellion is declared, you will be expected to side with me. And you will. It is not desirable, I do not want rebellion. I wish for the election to begin overmorrow. I will not make you kiss the ring, nor my boot or any such thing. Your oath lasts until sunset tomorrow. Then, you are free of your oath. Sit with me."

Isabella promptly claps her hands, as servants begin moving a smaller throne besides the Imperial Throne.

Roleplay from Myr Arnickles Renodin (22 hours, 5 minutes ago) Message sent to everyone in the region Askileon (9 recipients) The knuckles on the handle of clenched sword went white as Myr obliged with the request.

This woman mocks me! - he thought - to sit on a throne beside her! Outrageous!

He dry-swallowed a portion of fear and hesitation as he offered: "would Your Imperial Highness require a champion for tomorrow?"

Please say no, please say no, please say n... - he chanted in his mind, hoping that King Karibash or Kind Cador would rip her in two in an honourable duel.

Roleplay from Isabella Pavus (22 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in the region Askileon (9 recipients) Isabella smiles to Myr, shaking her head. "Do not be absurd, I will be fighting. Enjoy the time as it lasts. This is my last day alive, before the Empire is united. It is a beautiful thought, do you not think? Would you like food or drink? I can have it fetched at once. Also, steward - I do not know who will inherit the House of Pavus, but raise him to a Prince, for as long as Askileon stands. No rights to go along with it, just a fancy title. And the jewellery agreed upon."

"We desire much the same thing, I believe."

Roleplay from Tyra Andrasta Bluelake (15 hours, 55 minutes ago) Message sent to everyone in the region Askileon (9 recipients) Without waiting for either Goriad's or Jonsu's replies, Tyra started moving. The Rendorian Imperial Complex was vast, and they were far from the Imperial Seat, where Isabella was probably waiting for Karibash.

She was reached by letters of a counter rebellion mid-way. Well, it was to be expected. But this time, there would be fighting. Should she order the army back? It was too late, now. Hopefully they would all join the rebellion and defeat the militia.

At the Imperial Throne's door, guards made a motion to stop her. "I'm not a rebel. This is a diplomat from Swordfell and that one is my servant. We want to see Dame - I mean Empress Isabella."

Isabella Pavus

Following protests, Empress Isabella surrendered the crown. She had achieved such without bloodshed, but now men bled in Askileon. Now she, and the late Emperor Consort Nether, would enjoy the time that she had left. Married life came not as how she thought it would, but it came indeed. She could safely say that the marriage would last her whole life, nonetheless.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Dame Isabella, I will not hide the fact that I am glad to be free of my vow to you. However allow me this singular kindness - to lend you my sword this once, albeit in much different fashion.

I have never taken a life of a man, and yours I shall take not with hatred, for my hatred died with your Imperial Reign, but with honour and pity. I challenge thee to a duel to till death."

Bethany Birkenhead

Earlier today...

"Alright, my loyal men, this is the plan! We will help Aylwin Gottfried storming the makeshift palace of the Queen of Strumpets! I organised torches and fire arrows for each half and arrows with tips that will spread a flammable fluid wherever they impact for the other half of you! You will shoot the doors and all barricades that are standing in the way of Gottfrieds troops. Just do it, no second thoughts, it will work out!"

Bethany had a sparkle in her eyes, an eery one; one with hints of insanity and tons of determination. Her soldiers looked at each other, questioningly, a mumble going through their ranks.

"Okay, we attack! For Luria!" The men mumbled, some shrugged.

"FOR LURIA!!!" One of the Betulaceae all of a sudden raised their voice, and another joined in, followed by yet another. And soon, they were chanting "For Luria! For Luria!". Torches were lit, and the unit started moving, still chanting, towards the palace.

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

It had been an eventful night. Tyra, Goriad and Jonsu had been admitted to the throne room to find a sulking, menacing Myr, and a lovely and happy Isabella. The two women had talked, Tyra admonished her first friend about all the madness that she had made happen in the last two days, Isabella had been adamant. Tyra begged her to reconsider a duel, to no avail. A short wedding ceremony to Duke Nether followed, and the two retreated to another hall while the rest of them waited grimly for the morning news. Tyra was quiet, but safe in the knowledge that the Renodin household was out of the Imperial Complex.

A new rebellion broke out. From the balcony, they could see some units storming the walls of Askileon. Myr got in line to be the second or third duelist, Tyra couldn't keep up. It was just a matter of waiting for the wave to crash.

Aylwin Gottfried

The walls have been breached, the defenders confused, some dropped their weapons and ran in face of a small well trained army, others lay wounded or dying for obeying the crazed Empress... "A pity" Aylwin said, "It is a shame they had to die like this... Make sure their wives and families are compensated for their losses as the men fell for a pointless battle"

A few who joined him were leading their own retinues, amongst them short and stout Sir Leif in his shining armor and young Dame Bethany with fire in her eyes.

Even the old Pavus Guards took arms against their 'empress'.

As the army made their way, they saw the retinue of Earl Donald and Dame Sofia who chose to stay neutral in this case.

As the nobles stormed the Imperial Palace, Isabella, surrounded by a few people sat idly on the throne. Her face grim, but with a nervous smile. Her guards weapons ready, among them Sir Myr, with a sad look in his eyes, who clearly did not want to be standing there.

"ISABELLA!" Shouted Aylwin holding his Longsword of Betrayal which has history of slaying traitors, and claimed not one, but many lives in the past.

"Isabella, come out and face me like you promiced! I will give you this one chance to die honorable by my blade, or send your champions forth."

Isabella took a moment, the whole palace was quiet without anyone uttering a word, you could hear the cracking of fire burning of the roof and doors of the palace, the place was hot and it was getting hard to breathe.

After a pause Isabella stood up, removed her fancy cloak and placed her crown on the throne. She accepted the duel.

"I will give you this one chance to die honorably by my sword, arm yourself and face me in the courtyard."

Everyone has left the palace that went up in flames, its roof collapsing.

"Pick your weapon 'Empress'" Aylwin bowed and armed himself with his longsword of Betrayal... what a fitting weapon to strike the traitor of the realm.

Isabella armed herself with a well balanced sword, not taking a shield, and charged at Aylwin screaming, she decided to use all her might in hopes of striking the duelist, but to no avail. After just a few parried strokes, Aylwin has caught Isabella off guard and with a faint he placed his sword up to his hilt right through her stomach, getting close to isabella and whispering in her ear "You had your fame, you held the seat of Empress", after which he pulled his sword back out as Isabella had collapsed on the floor.

Everyone were baffled by the swiftness of the duel, and a few man carried isabella away, blood spilling on the floor with steady stream coming from her wound.

The Empress was no more.

Goriad Gabanus

Goriad had followed Tyra in her quest and as Tyra spoke with Isabella, Goriad stood on the side when suddenly Aylwin bursted through the door and a duel followed.

As it finished and her body carried away a clapping was heard from the side. Not soon after, Goriad moved towards Aylwin, still offering short applause. "Suzerain Emperor Aylwin, it has a nice ring to it, a bit of a change from Sword of the Maddening I must say. It suits you," he said with a grin. "It has been a while since we last spoke Aylwin. We are due to catch up, but I should also ask, do you intend to stay Suzerain Emperor, or will we simply recollect old times?" He made a short bow as he finished speaking.

21st July

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Emyhr le Craint and Solomon Greybrook

Swordsmanship match between Emyhr and Solomon

As the sun set over the city of Askileon, the sounds of tavern merriment filled the air. Arriving through the main gates of the city wall came Marshal Solomon and Emyhr, both discussion matters of the IAP and of the situation in the realm. They found themselves a stable to mount their horses and proceeded to enter the city. They had both come with a purpose of repair and refitting their units. Both they could go, Solomon turned to Emyhr.

"It has been a while since I have been in the city, more so to train my sword arm. If you have time this evening, how about we have a match? I am quite curious to see the prowess of the Vice-Marshal? The losers buys a round of drinks afterwards."

He said this with a large grin holding his arm out in conformation. Emyhr now had a big smirk on his face and gripped Solomons arm tightly.

"That sounds like a fine challenge to me, I have been needing to practice my movements. I have duties to attend to but once that is done, I shall meet you at the training hall. Should make for an entertaining night."

With the two parting ways, the time seems to pass quickly. Before long, they had found themselves at the academy ready for their match. By this point, the merriment from within the taverns had become rowdier and many who had heard about the match between the two nobles had gathered outside the academy with only a few being allowed within the grounds.

A small gathering of minor nobles and those with money had gathered into the training hall, surrounding a marked area where to two men stood. Swords in hand they prepared for the match, an official from the academy had been present as was custom for most matches but this man was also struggling to hide his excitement. Emyhr, swinging his sword around getting a feel of the grip and the weight, smirked once again towards Solomon.

"I hope there is not hard feelings once I show my skill, fighting on the frontline with my men has enabled me to hone my skills with a blade."

Solomon said nothing, only looking up and glaring with an equally terrifing smirk. The academy attendant stood in the centre explaining the rules of the match, but neither men were paying match attention, rather staring each other down. With a clap from the man and a cheer from the gathered students and visitors, the match began.

There was a moment of quiet where both men were watching the movements of the other, but rather suddenly, Emyhr leaped into action. Lunging straight for the unguarded point on Solomon's defense, but without much movement Solomon brought his sword down for a block connecting and pushing back Emyhr. Without much hesitation, Emyhr continued to swing and dodge in an aggressive fashion, with hits landing on both sides, but Emyhr was looking worn out from his movements while Solomon was holding strong. Emyhr backed away to catch his breath before darting back into the fray, aiming for Solomons unguarded left. Solomon, spotting this movement moved to change the guard, before realizing this was a trap.

Emyhr, bringing the direction of the sword to the original guard position leaving Solomon no time to change back, brought the sword and clashes with the joint of his armour. The blade slipping through and piercing the flesh of Solomon's upper arm. The judge seeing this, stepped into the ring, bringing the match to a close. The crowd roared with excitement and cheered for both Emyhr and Solomon. The judge went over to Solomon followed by Emyhr, taking off his armour, luckily the sword had only pierced the top layer and the wound would heal quickly.

The judge then announced to the crowd, "The winner of the match is Sir Emyhr of Poryatu." The crowd cheered some more upon hearing this, the cheers were followed by the sound of discussion and cheers from those who had waited outside. Solomon was busy being patched up by the academy healers, Emyhr approached and held out his hand.

"I apologies for the wound, it seems that I got a bit too carried away. You are a formidable warrior after all. It seems however you have lost and I will still be taking you up on that offer for a round of drinks. Once you had been bandaged, let us head to the tavern and drink, I am sure a strong drink will take the edge off that wound."

The events came to an end, Emyhr and Solomon were drinking and enjoying themselves. As was promised, Solomon had bought the drinks for the evening. The two sat and rather than discussing the recent events, were busy discussing their past. The night closed with the two men parting ways and returning to their camps to prepare for travel at sunrise.

Orsino d'Aquini Pavus

“Come, Aurelia, Lisabetta. The capital is no longer safe for us. We return not to the King’s Spire, nor my family estate in Ciarin Tut. We head for Dantooine, where shall rule the House of Pavus.” Said Orsino, somehow with a smile upon his face. With the death of his sister, he had inherited the position as the leader of the Pavus family. While having originally married into his wife’s family, the d’Aquini family, they found compromise by adding Pavus onto the end.

“You speak truth, my beloved?” Said she. “I do,” said he, “we depart at once". “Are you still a Prince, papa?” Asked the young girl. “I am not sure, dear Lisabetta. But it makes no difference, I promise. The trinkets we have will still be ours. Including that tiara I will give you when you turn seventeen.”

“But, papa, that is so far away. I cannot wait nine more years!” She complained, as her parents packed.

“You have no such choice, my sweet. We step to the forefront of society. Our family, the House of Pavus, will forever be known as they who have been in the Empire’s Throne.”

“And I'm sure you will sit there one day, my love,” said Aurelia, taking a break from the packing to embrace Orsino.

“By the Ancestors, I hope not. The weight of an Empire on my shoulders? I should pray not. That reminds me, Lisabetta. I want you to meet your new guardians soon. People who shall protect you and your mother.” Said he, finishing packing the essentials, signalling to the two to begin leaving and going down to the carriage. They passed the throne room, where Isabella’s body was still warm, the aroma of death in the air. Not even the new furniture and perfume could even cloud it a bit. Lisabetta, of course, had her eyes covered and her nose also. This was nothing she should see.

After climbing in the carriage, Orsino and Aurelia, with little Lisabetta wedged between them, looked at the Emperor's Complex one last time.

Winter Evening -- Poryatu

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

As Tyra left Goriad and Aylwin to relive old days and sign peace between the realms, she wondered if Aylwin would be able to fulfill Aldrakar's dream of bringing other people into the Hegemony.

She wandered the city, feeling the loss of her first friend, crazy as her last days had been, and a few other losses as well.

Her mind was fuzzy. She had letters to answer about subjects she didn't really care about, why had she even meddled? It was time to get an unit again and go back to the battlefield. She might have never felt the veil, but the joy and focus, the fluid exhilarating dance of battle cleared her mind like nothing else.

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

As Tyra left Goriad and Aylwin to relive old days and sign peace between the realms, she wondered if Aylwin would be able to fulfill Aldrakar's dream of bringing other people into the Hegemony.

She wandered the city, feeling the loss of her first friend, crazy as her last days had been, and a few other losses as well.

Her mind was fuzzy. She had letters to answer about subjects she didn't really care about, why had she even meddled? It was time to get an unit again and go back to the battlefield. She might have never felt the veil, but the joy and focus, the fluid exhilarating dance of battle cleared her mind like nothing else.

22nd July

Winter Day -- Poryatu

Bennet Selemnir

Bennet spat out a tooth. Another one in service to the realm

The battle was won, or close enough. The cost to his men and his mouth, apparently, would be paid in full.

"Haldred!" he called. His longstanding captain came in with all haste and clicked his heels formally. He knew his lords temer.

"Draft a letter my friend. This is a mess."

William Fitz Roberts

William sat at a table in a courtyard of his villa in Poryatown, busily working at his designs and plans. He had moved out of his stuffy study for the cool sea breeze found in the courtyard and to watch his daughters train. He was in deep discussion with his architect, Andrea Bentivoglio, as well his principal portraitist, Guidobaldo Vitelli, about his grand design for the renovations of the area of the city he had been granted by Matthew. However, he couldn’t help but occasionally look up from his work and stare in awe at his daughters at their work. He had never seen anything like it. All Fitz Roberts had been trained from a young age to fight, but as far as he was aware none had shown such raw innate skill as the two children that he saw before him. Even Antonia had not been this good at this age and she was the best of her generation.

It seemed that Karl had finally recognised the prowess of the twins for, rather than pairing them off with their cousins, he had set them against some of the Bravi. This was not unusual, but this tended not to happen in the family until the child in question was ten. They certainly were not winning against the Bravi they had been paired off against, but then they certainly were not losing either. William smiled at that and returned to his papers. In a few weeks, with a lot of hard work and discipline, they might even start winning. He had every confidence in the two children who would one day replace him as head of the family.

He looked up as his wife came out of one of the doors to the courtyard and handed him a letter, her usually smiling face grim. William took it and read quickly, his face showing no emotion. He sat back a moment, contemplating his options. Quickly, he penned a response and handed it to one of the servants who ran off

‘I guess I shall be fighting sooner than I had intended’ He sighed before turning to his companions, ‘it seems gentlemen that we shall have to postpone these renovations for quite some time, my services are needed in the field once more’

Matthew Coffey

It was not long for yet another message to arrive at the Fitz Roberts compound, this time brought by a doughy elderly man with a stern demeanour. He bore the arms of house Coffey.

"His majesty will see you, if you deign to visit, sir William." A tired drone, though it appeared to be more by choice than by fatigue.

Meanwhile, in White Hall, the court was at a standstill. Whispering gentry and beleagured servants plied their trades but seemingly aimless. Nothing was being accomplished at any great pace, or at all. It was as if the entire palace of Earth Hall had been left to its own devices and leaderless. Such couldn't be a truer assessment of the situation.

Matthew sat in his room, alone, pouring over the stacks of letters that had passed these few weeks. He had barely left, ever since he arrived back from Askileon Purlieus. Weeks cooped up in the Hall had taken its toll, and the usually vibrant young King had been reduced to a hunched, baggy-eyed sack of pity. 'Fear of assassins', the court would whisper. 'Fear of the Emperor', guards would jest from their posts. It was common knowledge that Renodins own men still acted as the militia of the city, and they made it clear that fact was remembered daily. The Coffey household guard was scant, no more than ten at most, acting dutifully in their Kings absence. Yet despite all this, the administration that was passed by the Kings quarters was slipped back under the door, completed and ready to be sent out. The letters that were passed through were answered, and given orders to be spread about purposefully.

His latest missive had been to William, who he expected soon. The King mustered himself as best he could, requested a servant prepare his quarters and have him brought fresh clothes. The crown sat, dejected and discarded upon the mans bed. A testament to a broken will. Casting a sidelong glance at the crown, Matthew sighed. How did it all come to this? Scooping up his paraphernalia, he seated himself out on the balcony, overlooking the city of Poryatown. Awaiting his guest.

William Fitz Roberts

William riles up the crowd

As William walked from his estate to White Hall he heard the great proclamation of new emperor being read out by an imperial herald

‘Ah’ He said to his companions, ‘the news has finally reached the common sort’

‘… the new Emperor is therefore proclaimed Alywin I, long may he reign’

The crowd cheered this, but many turned as William snorted at this proclamation. One man, a blacksmith by the look of him, looked at William quizzically

‘Have you something to say my lord?’

‘Indeed I do’ William said, walking through the crowd, pointing to individuals in the crowd, ‘You, good sir, you, good madam, are you happy with this new Emperor?’

‘Aye, m’lord’ they all responded

‘Well then, perhaps I can shine some truth on this matter. Why do you support Alywin?’

‘He drove the tyrant Isabella from the throne, m’lord’ one woman shouted

‘Aye, and many other nobles were prepared to do so. They and Alywin all shared the same goal. Save one. All those who offered to rebel, such as lord Donald, were to step down as soon as Isabella was dead. Alywin, in contrast, decided to hold a weighted referendum asking whether he should step down.’ As William reached the herald’s stand, he looked up to the man. ‘If I may?’ The herald looked like he was going to refuse, but seeing the size of William decided better of it. William got up on the stand and looked out over the crowd, which was getting bigger

‘This new emperor is legitimate under law. Rebellions are legitimate in Luria if they are successful. But the actions of the emperor post his coronation are far from legitimate. He broke Lurian law and customs when he appointed himself king without consulting the other royals. He broke Lurian law and tradition when he appointed the Imperial Marshal without consulting the peerage. He has no respect for Lurian law and customs. And given what he is, it is small wonder that he has no respect for Lurian law and customs’ At this last, William pointed to a man in the crowd, ‘You, there, what are you?’

‘I am Phrycian, sir’

William pointed to another ‘and you?’

‘I am Aestian’

‘I am Tekian’

‘I am Pianese’

The cries rang out

‘And what are you after you are Aestian, Phrycian, Tekian or Pianese?’

‘Poryatun?’ A man said quizzically

‘Yes, but after that we are…?’

‘Lurian!’ A man towards the back shouted.

‘Yes, we are Lurian’ William roared, raising his arms

‘Lurian, Lurian, Lurian, Lurian!’ the crowd called out

‘But you know what the Emperor is, do you know what the new Imperial marshal is?’

He had them now, William knew. He could say anything and they would follow him

‘Astrumese! They are both Astrumese’

The crowd roared in outrage at this revelation

‘It was under Aldrakar that the Astrumese began to take over Luria. Invited by him, he gave them positions and responsibilities denied to good true Lurians. It was they who drove the anti-Earth Hall sentiment that spread around Luria. It is their fault that Luria is collapsing, they care the cause of all your misery. The proof? Look now, the new Emperor, an Astrumist, appoints an Astrumist to the most important military position. He is filling the courts, the army and the temples with Astrumese scum. This must end, must it not?’

‘Yes!’ roared the crowd

‘I call for the expulsion of all Astrumese councillors from Luria! In fact, any and all Astrumists should leave! They have corrupted Luria! Their filthy barbaric blood has tainted our good Lurian blood! They must be cast out, they must be expelled from our lands, lest we be destroyed by the northern menace.’

The crowd roared, fully turned by William’s words. ‘Hey, she’s Astrumese!’ One man shouted, pointing to a young woman who was trying to sneak away. Instantly, the crowd leapt on the woman and began to march down the street, chanting death to Astrum

William turned to Josef, formally his captain but now commander of the militia

‘These people will believe anything’

‘Aye sir, should we put an end to it’

‘Certainly not, let them spread havoc’

With that William turned and continued on to the White Hall

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas strode through the corridors of White Hall. Since the revelation of the plots and schemes, Matthew's palace had become his second home. It was from there he issued his letters and continued his work as a courtier, secure from the prospect of that dreaded knife in the dark. A death in service of the empire he could always have countenanced; perhaps he would die honourably, struck down on the field of battle. But a death at the hands of the empire... that he could not allow for himself.

Though he remained straight-backed and straight-laced, his rigid decorum unsullied, the weight of the strain bore down on him. Staedtler, the man who had ever been his closest friend, had been quietly replaced by the goblet that his attendant bore for him, filled to the brim with its crimson liquid. But this time there was not one goblet, but a number. With that, in that familiar and warm haze of wine, he arrived at the doorway he intended. A number of Rendorian soldiers - the last of their number - blocked his passage.

"Inform King Matthew that Nicholas is here to see him," he sighed. Formality had fallen into an extended slumber.

A guardsman sneered, and moved indoors to inform the King of Earth's Hall of his visitor.

Matthew Coffey

"Nicholas you say?" The King quizically asked the guard. "Not who I was expecting... Send him in. And let William enter when he arrives, no need to hold him up."

Hailing over one of the servants that still loitered in his quarters, he requested they make ammendments to his previous request and fetch some wine as well as beer. He hadn't spoken to Nicholas as much as one might have thought, in fact, they had exchanged letters whilst working within the same Hall. Have we become so paranoid as to refuse our own guests? Our own friends...

His thoughts trailed off as the former Magistrate entered, to which Matthew bid him to sit at his table, overlooking Poryatown.

"Come, sit. Share with me what you have to say, I'll hear it."

Nicholas Archival

As one of the servants scurried past in search of beverages, Nicholas shrugged, before waving off his own attendant. No doubt it would be easier for Matthew if they were drinking from goblets he knew to untainted by would-be murderers. Wrapping his amber cloak about his shoulders, he stepped forward into the room - and, at Matthew's invitation, took a seat at the table.

"I thought we might toast to the future of Luria," he remarked, with a smirk that was neither warm nor humorous. "Did you know I won Isabella's popularity referendum?"

At the conclusion of his words he grimaced, and it brought into contrast his current condition. Dark rings circled his eyes, he had lost weight, and he was clearly already merry with drink, so early in the day. But he was ever a man characterised by his rigidity, and he would break before he bent.

Matthew Coffey

"To Luria." The King mimed raising a glass at that, offering a weak smile to his companion. "Really now? Well we better hurry to the capital, we have to proclaim you Emperor and all that."

Matthew paused, giving Nicholas a brief look over. "You look well, I trust the hospitality of my household has been both open and warming to you? I can't say much for it these days. Most of them left, you know? The court. Soon as Isabella declared her rebellion, if you can even call it that." He sighed, drawing a hand down his face as he leaned back in his chair. "I figure they believed the rumours, that we would secede and rebel ourselves. Can't blame them I suppose. Just seeing to their own hides as we all do. I hope they drink and eat well in Giask now."

His speech ended abruptly. Either he had nothing else to say, or did not know how to say it.

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas chuckled gently at Matthew's words, before taking a long gulp from a goblet that had been provided to him. It was no time for frugality, and he savoured a rich flavour that would no doubt be lost to him soon enough.

"I imagine I look about as well as you do," he replied wryly. "The guards of White Hall have kept me alive and its servants have kept me in a fitting condition to cope with this madness, so I cannot have any complaints. Nor can I complain about your court fleeing to the winds. It seems half the realm thought we were vicious traitors - not that I understand it even now."

The erstwhile magistrate fell into a silence of his own for a moment, brooding over his drink while he looked out to Poryatown and its streets below.

"Did you think it would come to this, Matthew? I remember our enthusiasm and eagerness to serve. The way I speak about it makes us sound like old men, but we are barely more than youths. But years of this will do that, I suppose."

William Fitz Roberts

William walked briskly up the steps of the keep, waving the guards aside as he came into the room where Matthew and Nicolas were drinking and seemingly wallowing in their sorrows

‘Hello, what’s up? Drowning your miseries? We should be seeing this as an opportunity. For one, I hear D’hara is even warmer than Giask. However, I do believe my cousin Titos is not keen on boats so an island nation may give him anxiety’ William grabbed a chair, bringing it round so the back was at his front and poured himself a drink

‘So then, what’s the plan? I mean, supposedly the referendum shows that you should be Emperor. Maybe we should proclaim you such and be the Imperialists in exile?’

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas glanced up, bleary-eyed, toward William. He waved him over with a short gesture, before returning to his wine.

"I think it most apt to say we're commiserating," he said, loosing a breathy exhale. "Opportunity or not, the three of us have exerted ourselves beyond reason to serve loyally. I do not like wasted efforts."

With that, he called over a nearby servant, who promptly refilled his goblet.

"Much as I want to entertain the notion, the referendum was made by a madwoman and the realm didn't take it seriously... but more than that, I wouldn't want to be like King Karibash; the barbarian who pretends he's still a monarch."

He sneered in derision. The drink was bringing out a more caustic approach to his conversation.

William Fitz Roberts

William listened to Nicholas’ words, sipped the wine, grimaced, threw the glass to the floor and called for ale.

‘That is a more than fair position. Looking at potential places to go, D’hara has just as many cities we do but a quarter of the nobles. It will not be difficult to find places for all of us. I have already given orders for my household to be packed up if things do not go the way we wish’