To Fell an Empire 3.0 [IC]

[Ghondra]

House Venor

Seizing the moment, and hoping to impress upon the group what he thought was by far the most sensible choice, Aguston stood.

"I vote for the emperor's little son. By any reasoning, whether the laws of succession which dictate the eldest male child and only then the eldest female child, or by the recognition that he is best suited; Cassyndra widely thought of as addled, and his sister a female, who have indeed traditionally not led by these rules. The only legal and sensible option is the boy."

He abruptly sat down again, short proclamation of intent issued. Who would vote next? And with him, or against him?

Lord Edmond silently nodded to the Venorian Patriarch, he looked left and right, seeing the nodding heads of his Vassal Lords, he smirked, standing up. "In these trying days, men must make a choice to do what's right, or do what is proper. The girl is not fit for the throne, not because she is a woman but because she is touched, I must do what's right. I vote for the eldest boy!" He exclaimed, his vassals banged their fists to their table in approval. He looked to the Lord Aguston's eye, meeting his gaze, before nodding in assent to who would hopefully be, the next Emperor of the Realm.

It was time for House Ranger to seize its place, if not as Kings of the South Plains then as the Warden of the Borderlands, yes, the bastard prince, would be-Emperor, young and naive, would be his Ward.

[Kaledoria]

The burgers and burgherrs of Röken

Götz von Bernstein had not been invited to the Caer Aard but playing out his charm, family bonds to the Chamberlain von Stecken and a reasonable bribe he was able to enter. He knew a bit about imperial heraldry and recognized the more prominent families.

He stood in the background but before the end of the meeting, he was addressed by a servant of the first Burgmeister. "Young Sir von Bernstein? It is a surprise to meet you here. The Burgmeister would like to speak with you."


Otto Lichtenburg had remained silent, not because this was his general temper and not because he had initially thought, this was a formal event, where it was custom, that the repentant from Röken spoke only after the High Lord's of the Empire, as it was the order of peerage (the idea, that these rules counted here were voided far before the elven commoner spoke without being addressed). He had been busy making notes of everybody's opinion. As he looked around he noticed that the High Lords who bothered with notes at all had servant taking them. Why had he not thought of that and did it himself? "I'm not prepared for this" he thought to himself. When he saw Götz standing in the background he called him closer. It was good to have a second opinion.

Otto moved his chair back and the two men whispered:
"Hello Bernstein, are you here to introduce yourself to the high nobility of the Empire before you succeed me? You know, that I'm feeling rather healthy, you will probably have to wait two more years." Otto hinted a smile then came to the point. "It's either a noble republic as Erlend of Eriadha and the Orc are proposing, or we keep going, like Steward Belrond and Maria of Gracia would wish."
"No question, a weak central authority will have less power when it comes to negotiating imperial taxes. We should definitely go with Erlend's idea." Götz whispered enthusiastically.
"I'm not sure. But what I would like your advice on are the elf and the dwarf. The dwarf says nothing and the Elf ... Well he talks a lot."
"An Elf trick, obviously, Master Lichtenburg, he balances his points to sound considerate but in reality he just avoids giving away his real position. I would say, he is a lier and since the only position he really took is the continued existence of the empire, I would fear he plans fragmentation. He just goes about it more cleverly and considering his lifespan, it's probably more of an long term plan. The dwarf? I guess, he really does not care and actually I can not blame him. It really matters little to his realm."

Suddenly a final vote was called for. Both men of Röken were shocked. These High Lords had no stomach! Council debates in Röken sometimes took over 12 hours straight and included at least as much shouting and insulting as the meeting here. Götz smiled "Your going to show us your own Elf trick?" Otto smiled back but then shoved him away. He turned to the other two Burgmeisters as this was a decision that the executive college would have to decide together. The two others accepted his choice. Otto stood up.

"Röken and the Kopper march sides with the honorable Steward Belrond on this point. Reason: I do not want to sound morbid but history has shown that slow monarchs happen and if this ever was a problem, it usually solved itself. Thus go ahead and educate young Teren like you would educate a future emperor but there is no need to throw over old traditions and disinherit Cassyndra."

Sitting down, he saw the wide open eyes of his two Burgmeisters and realized, that this might have sounded like a death threat to the late emperor's daughter. For a moment, he feared the High lords might misinterpret his implication, that the Cassyndra might die before having children of her own, in a similar manner. But than again, it was obvious, that unlike members of feudal realms, neither the Republic, nor it's first Burgmeister in person would have any benefit from that.

[The Soviet Union of Mother Russia]

After seeing the various bickering, back, and forth whom of the two children will be elected as the emperor, the assembly of Sar-Shazzar once more started to murmur amongst themselves. Clearly the suggestions of candidates was something they could not imagine, as they showed little regards to listening to the Houses taking the floor to justify this plight being giving their sovereignty away. Clearly the mutual interest was not to stand by idle to see such a mockery. Once more the same man as the times before stood up.

'' The election, or whatever name that glorifies this act of nepotism that you are trying to instil simply cannot do. We will not let bow down to a child, nor a human for that matter which we done too many times before. So whatever megalomaniac your schemes are, we will not be apart of this vile show of human arrogance ''

The man walked back in sharps step to his seat, to awake the gathering in a loud midst of cacophony. Lord Sandro only sat idle by as his vassals acted in his name, not planning on showing his hand in this matter. And before not too long, the ghouls, and cainites started to speaking in the dark, only seem more devious as the tone of the House representatives became darker.

[Greater Liverpool]

Davit pressed for time to get to the gathering before it ends, quickly moves like the wind to the gate leading to the imperial throne. A small wall divided the imperial centre from the rest of the city. Davit looked around for any sort of way to climb up and over the gates and into the main halls of Caer Aard. He could not find a single sport he was "stuck on the wrong side of the gate" he thought, although in the corner of his eye he did see a guard looking disinterested in his current situation as guarding a door leading to a watch tower of the wall. "There is my spot" Davit said to himself. He quickly ran over pulling his tattered cloak over him so he was not showing any part of his amour and so the guard just thought of him as a regular person. "Help me, there is person round that corner" Davit pointed to corner that lead to a back alley "with a knife and he wants to kill me. Help please" Davit pranced. The guard gave just a simple shake of his head before running off in to the back alley. Davit chuckled before quickly climbing the stairs of the watchtower looking to see if any one was above him or below him.

He reached the top of the watchtower and headed right onto the wall to look out and towards the main halls. It was a stunning view he thought, nothing he had seen before. Gardens, statues to great leaders, trees from distant lands, but also a whole load of guards from the different realms of the empire. He could not get down and not be seen, no he needed another way. "Across" he whispered to himself. Among the trees and gardens, there were small stone pillars holding up nothing but themselves; he noticed a set which had huge, thick tress growing both sides of signal set of pillars that would take him from the wall and close towards a side door on the main halls. Davit moves himself into position to where he will be able to jump onto the first pillar, he moved back so that his back is touching the other side of the wall and got ready to run and jump. In a quick couple of seconds he mangers to run and jump over the wall and onto the first pillar. "No time to lose" Davit quickly recovers and starts to run and jump across the set of pillars. Until he reachers the final one and jumps off it onto the ground taking off his tattered cloak and entering through a side door into the main hall. Keeping his head down he walks through the different corridors until he comes to door named store, he opened the door and a set of stairs heading upwards faced him. He walked up the stairs very slowly making sure not to alert anyone of his presence. The boards creek quietly each time he walk and each time he walks a little lighter.

When he gets to the top of the stairs it is all black and dark besides one part of the room which has alight glowing from a opening. Davit moves over to it to wonder what it is, he looks down and a stone table in the centre of the room and many people sitting around it is what he saw and he listened to what was being said. He quickly realised that was gathering he reach the right place in time. As mark of success he grabbed a apple from a small bag he had with him and proceeds to eat feeling confident. He listens carefully to each person try to learn everything he can about the political situation here. But that was cut short as he loses grip of his apple which falls straight into the opening "ohhhh Fuck" he realised.

[Annihilators of Chan Island]

Steward Belrond lowered his head low. This wasn't good. The ideal situation would have been an overwhelming vote for Cassyndra, however he would also have been happy with an overwhelming vote for Teren too, because that would allow the peace to be kept. As it was, the vote was looking like it would be deadlocked. Which was going to be the worst situation...
.
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Garcias Tellegara frowned too. Too many lords and ladies were voting for Teren. Which was not only in violation of the law (as if Garcias ever cared about that!) but it would also be weakening his influence on the ruling of the Empire. Nobody but the very sharpest or closest kin even suspected just how far Cassyndra had fallen into his influence. With Cassyndra in charge, his word would have been basically completely unchecked. Unfortunately his silly traditional father was still in the delusion that he could somehow both uphold the law and be neutral and be a good steward! Couldn't Belrond Tellegara see the madness that he was doing?! He was just letting the position of the Tellegara House, the most steadfast and reliable House in the Empire, be demeaned and limited! This could not do!

Lucky for everyone though, Garcias had a plan. He sets in the first stage of his back-up plan in action. He loudly yawned and stretched out his arms obnoxiously.
At the window, one of the Imperial guards looked out the window, quietly opened it, and then wedged his halberd into the opening. Just to be sure, he gave a hand sign that no lord noticed.
At a nearby tower, the 3 sentries on duty saw the signal and reacted. One of the guardsmen aimed his crossbow deep into the empty courtyard and fired it onto one of the practice targets.
At the bottom, a old stableboy watched the quarrel woefully miss the target, but he still knew what that meant. He scrambles to another courtyard and quickly looks about. With that, he then ran up to the window of an oubliette and rolled in a simple leather ball....

The Caer Aard City Prison

''Look at this!'' exclaims one of the guards as he finished counting the last coins in his purse'' Thieving high lord chamberlain didn't have enough money to pay us common folk our agreed due? He still had to sell us short 10 gold coins! ''

The second guard at the table glanced at the miserable looking prisoners staring at them before he amicably comments'' Well, I for one am not complaining. There's still two weeks worth of wages in these bags... and the best bit is we probably won't even need to do a darn thing!I don't mind the idea of being paid to do nothing! ''

The first guard frowned'' I get where you're coming from, and yes the terms are generous but a deal's a deal, and if we don't get paid the money that he promised us, then I for one will be rather cross!''

''Relax!'' exclaims the second guard'' He probably will pay us after we follow his instructions!''

THUD!

The two guards looked up and wondered to the nearest cell. There, the eight or so prisoners were huddled at the door, cowering from something that had just slipped though the bars.

The guards looked in and saw it. A small leather ball. So it was. It was time.

The second guard smiled broadly and exclaims'' Well today's your lucky day!''

''What?'' asks one of the prisoners.

''You're all free men.'' explains the first guard as he in one smooth motion unlocked the first cell door.'' You're all free to raise hell!''
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It barely took 5 minutes before the alarm was rung. At the sound of it, the steward immediately stood up and demanded'' What is the meaning of this!''

Perfectly rehearsed, a guard ran inside the Caed Aard and exclaims'' The prisoners have broken loose! They have overpowered their jailers and are now running amok in the castle!''

[Mesrane]

Caer Aard

Erlend began to smile at the mounting chaos, but his expression quickly slipped into something between a frown and a grin. He wasn't entirely sure whether to be pleased or concerned at this turn of events. A close vote would've been the ideal atmosphere for his proposed reform to become law, as it would show a good many lords weren't satisfied with the heir-elect. But things unfortunately seemed to be on pace to a tie, which would have dangerous implications for almost everyone, his own house included. Tension and vicious politicking suited his case just fine. Civil war, not quite so much.

He watched as House Shar-Shazzar proclaimed the next closest thing to open secession. He found it unwise for his own House to make such a move so soon. Better to wait until an unhappy ending to the Caer Aard seemed inevitable. He would sit for now, and watch if one candidate pulled ahead of another. He despised having to choose between a muck-brained woman and a bastard five-year old, but he supposed if he had to choose, the boy Teren would be the wiser choice. But why so eager Erlend? He asked himself. Let us wait for things to pan out before we fly the hens.

Domnall, he noticed, was positively sweating at this point. His poor nephew wasn't even trying to hide it at this point. And at some point, the Lord Provost Marshal's opinion would be wanted by someone. In a meeting about law, Erlend found it almost comical that the Empire's chief judiciary official had declined to speak. In this particular case however, Erlend preferred his silence.

Seated next to Erlend, Owain was doing his best not to break into joyous dance. House Shar-Shazzar will be the first, he thought devilishly. But the last? Oh, I think not. Owain threw a momentary glance of disapproval at his grandfather, Erlend. He was doing a fair enough job of pushing reform, but Owain would rather have taken it further.

Considerably further.

[Paketo]

Caer Aard

"Grecia throws her support Teren" proclaimed Maria in the middle of the chaos that was starting "Grecia won't put their support behind a slow bastard and the next best choice is Teren so Grecia will throw her support behind him. Now if you'll excuse me lords and ladies, it seems there is a break out and it would be our duty to stop it.". Maria then grabbed her bow and bag of arrows slinging it over her shoulder, her sword strapped to her waist. "Grecians with me" ordered Maria and her 10 guards joined next to her "if any of the other houses wishes to show your mettle and join me, now is the time. We can continue the meeting once this is solved". The Grecians then exited the hall of Caer Aard ready to restore control through the castle.

As Maria and the Grecians stepped into the courtyard from the meeting, they immediately surveyed the Chaos mounting around. the prisoners were running amok all around the castle, tipping carts, terrorizing staff and fighting guards. "Listen here prisoners that now terrorize this castle" shouted Maria able to be heard throughout the courtyard "return to your cells now or say your prayers as you will be meeting death soon". A prisoner shouted back at Maria.

"oh you and what Army are gonna make us Woman" he shot back but no sooner had a arrow sprouting from his chest.

"no army will be needed to deal with you ruffians" said Maria lowering her bow after shooting the arrow "I say it once more, surrenderer and return to your cells or meet the maker early". Several prisoners got down on their knees surrendering but most keep their activities. "Meeks, Tage, Igera, you three guard the prisoners, escort them back to their cells" she ordered

"My lady" said each of them before grabbing the four that surrendered and leading them towards the dungeon.

"the rest of you with me, we restore order in the name of Stana" Maria ordered before beginning to attack the prisoners.




Stana- ancient god of the hearth in Grecia who remains a prominent figure in the realm

[Alleniana]

House Venor

"What? What's going on?"

Aguston II's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking around. Were they in danger? Most likely not; many here were some of the most well-trained in the land, if only because of their wealth. He, indeed, was an excellent jouster, and good with swords. He had not brought his weapons into the Caer Aard, though, as was the custom.

"Why have they gotten out now? What? We'll continue the meeting later, but for now, we need to ensure that security is kept.

He stood to go to the door, looking around for a weapon.

"Anyone got a stick? A sword, anything?"

He was aging, but he could still fight, and some captives run amok would hopefully prove no challenge.

[Ghondra]

Caer Ard

Pannonius Lancaster, the Knight-Commander of the Emperor's Swords frown, which has been kept firmly in place throughout the summit deepened as the mounting chaos in the city began to increase in intensity, now reaching the outskirts. Taking the hand of Teren, "My Lords it appears that the City Watch is unable to contain the threat any longer, sooner or later these Ruffians will come knocking down our doors. I implore you to postpone this voting until further notice, there will be no successor if all of them are dead!" He shouted to the assembled mass.

He readied his great sword "Protector" The same sword that he used to protect the Emperor during Robert's Rebellion, now prepared to strike down the enemies of his Bastard children. He called upon the 10 Blades scattered across the room, calling upon them to surround the heirs in a small circle.

[The Starlight]

Caer Aard

Duke Belrond slammed his hammer down, quieting the nobles. "This Caer Aard is adjourned and in recess until this problem is resolved. Do not leave the Imperial Hearthlands, however, as this Caer Aard will be continued. You are free to do as you wish, but I request that you help the Blades in protecting House Rathis."

---

The Lady Mistress of Shadows, the daughter of Saerondr suddenly stepped silently to Lord Aguston II. "My lord, here, take this blade." It was her spare but an equally well crafted sword, being slightly curved in the elvish fashion, the name Ellyn Tarembor being engraved into the blade in light, swirling letters. The hilt was pure black, and the sword was incredibly balanced. "You are welcome to join my father, brother and I in our guard of Caer Aard." Nodding in farewell to Aguston II, Ellyn walked toward her father and Elvuldur, who had both drawn their own blades, which were equally exquisite.

Nodding, the three Tarembors walked calmly outside, guarding the pavilion for now as all the Blades had encircled theheirs of House Rahtis. Back in the Caer Aard room, Vilgaen drew his sword and joined the Blades encircling the House of Rahtis. Dalinar stood, guarding his mother, though the Lady Miren had a hand on her own sword's hilt. And now, they waited. Saerondr, Ellyn and Elvuldur formed a spear formation, lacking shields, but still effective, Saerondr as the point and his two children on his flanks, slightly behind him. Their eyes flitted constantly, examining the landscape, keeping a close eye for any approaching foes and occasionally turning to check behind them. He had trained them well, thought Saerondr, as he kept his sword drawn, thinking of all his children. And so, they looked on, and waited.

[Kaledoria]

"Hey, why do THEY have weapons?" Götz von Bernstein asked his Burgmaster, pointing to the Grecian. "Why shouldn't they, my guards are armed, too. You didn't fall for the 'No weapons at the Caer Aard trick, did you?" Otto Lichtenburg answered, "No problem, the Caer-guards will give it back for a small "fee", maybe 20 copper. - or probably about a halfsilver in a situation like this." They split up. Götz ran to the entrance and in fact, the busy guard ignored him until Götz shouted "Okay, I pay the double normal fee, give me back my sword!"

Otto moved towards the Steward and did not bother with formality: "Mylord, to clarify: Even if I spoke about planing ahead in case someone kills the Princess-Empress, I do not plan to take ANY such action nor would I condone anything like that from others. And I definitly have nothing to do with THIS! To prove it, I put my personal guard under your direct order." Three Guardsmen in light chain mail armed with partisan spears about man-high rushed forward and saluted by stomping the lower ends of their weapons on the ground.

[The Soviet Union of Mother Russia]

As the nobles looked more pale then ever, and baffled like wild chickens it certainly did not help the lack of trust in this council. With the various guards running back, and forth through the gate spread open, only exacerbate by mist of chaos, and screams from below. It seemed the whole picture of a empire strong as steel was slowly falling apart as the façade was cracking, piece by piece. As everyone else was busy trying to appear as heroes in the matter of the lose prisoners, the company of Ninurtusur decided they seen enough. As Lord Sandro stood up from his seat, the assembly behind him decided to follow behind, taking their exit through the other door. Brushing past the crowd they decided to leave this wretched place, as the purpose of their stay seemed to be without results.

As they made way for the street, they looked behind themselves upon the dome where they were gathered before, muttering along the way in taunting voices that only seemed to reaffirmed their distrust to the foreigners, and neighbours. Lord Sandro, who was silent before, decided to take the chance to announce his envoy, facing them as they exited through the back of the palace.

'' If these so-called guardians of Pandyssium cannot take care of a simple riot, whom in their sane mind would support such a crowd of incompetent ventures. I say, we are better of on our own, and not to bow down to such men whom rather be ruled by a child, then a leader. Let us make due of the stay we have here, and head home. This is no worthy of our time, and nor does it be worthy of our presence. Let these mere human antics be dealt by these defiles, and not let this dirt be on our hands ''

His delegation approved, nodding in correspondence to their Lords words. They decided to retract their steps to one of the numerous taverns, taking their time resting by as the chaos ensued outside. Besides the nervous barkeeper, it seemed no one was around to take notice of the pack of strange figures walking in to scheme in low voices, and sip on bottles of various fluids to come. After all, the House was a society built on the principles of civility above all else, so it only came natural to make due of the time before a chance to depart from the town.

[Annihilators of Chan Island]

"Hey, why do THEY have weapons?" Götz von Bernstein asked his Burgmaster, pointing to the Grecian. "Why shouldn't they, my guards are armed, too. You didn't fall for the 'No weapons at the Caer Aard trick, did you?" Otto Lichtenburg answered, "No problem, the Caer-guards will give it back for a small "fee", maybe 20 copper. - or probably about a halfsilver in a situation like this." They split up. Götz ran to the entrance and in fact, the busy guard ignored him until Götz shouted "Okay, I pay the double normal fee, give me back my sword!"

Otto moved towards the Steward and did not bother with formality: "Mylord, to clarify: Even if I spoke about planing ahead in case someone kills the Princess-Empress, I do not plan to take ANY such action nor would I condone anything like that from others. And I definitly have nothing to do with THIS! To prove it, I put my personal guard under your direct order." Three Guardsmen in light chain mail armed with partisan spears about man-high rushed forward and saluted by stomping the lower ends of their weapons on the ground.

Belrond nodded at the guardsmen and spoke'' It will be an honor to put down these ruffians with you. Come!''

With that, Berond Tellegara drew his favorite personal weapon: an enchanted but also enormous Zweihander long sword, encrusted with gold and gems all along the hilt. Holding the mighty weapon in his hands, Belrond shouted to all the readied troops'' This won't take long!''

With that, both he, Kevin, Tyler and almost all the soldiers poured out of the meeting room to confront the riot.

Of course, as you might expect it was all over in the space of 2 hours. Most prisoners had no stomach to fight, either because they were too weak, too old or too mindful of the fact that their sentences were ending soonish anyway. Kevin Tellegara even found himself having to break up a sermon being held by about 20 prisoners, all listening to a radical Faith preacher who had been just that bit too radical 5 years ago! Laughing it off, Kevin easily shepherded the crowd back to their cells once their service was over.

That said, a minority of violent prisoners resisted, preferring death over continued imprisonment. 5 castle staff were killed, and numerous people were wounded, including one minor baron from the Crownlands.

As things stand, most prisoners have now been rounded up, often by Belrond personally, although about 20 have now barricaded themselves inside a tower and are refusing to come out. In what may in other circumstances have looked comical, the Caer Aard garrison prepared siegeworks right there and then in the castle courtyard, preparing to starve these particular ruffians into submission....

House Venor

"What? What's going on?"

Aguston II's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking around. Were they in danger? Most likely not; many here were some of the most well-trained in the land, if only because of their wealth. He, indeed, was an excellent jouster, and good with swords. He had not brought his weapons into the Caer Aard, though, as was the custom.

"Why have they gotten out now? What? We'll continue the meeting later, but for now, we need to ensure that security is kept.

He stood to go to the door, looking around for a weapon.

"Anyone got a stick? A sword, anything?"

He was aging, but he could still fight, and some captives run amok would hopefully prove no challenge.

Garcias Tellegara, with astounding smoothness and professionalism, pickpocketed a short sword from a Vallorian soldier with one hand passed it onto Aguston's hand'' Keep it, I hope it ensures your safety for many days to come.''

Smiling a smile that even looked genuine at the confused Venor, Garcias then fell back to the Rahtises. No way was he going to let those unwashed criminals get ahold of them! That would be severely mess up his power base!

He effectively bossed the remaining guards into keeping a round the clock check for their safety. The heirs were all shepherded back to their rooms.

As the nobles looked more pale then ever, and baffled like wild chickens it certainly did not help the lack of trust in this council. With the various guards running back, and forth through the gate spread open, only exacerbate by mist of chaos, and screams from below. It seemed the whole picture of a empire strong as steel was slowly falling apart as the façade was cracking, piece by piece. As everyone else was busy trying to appear as heroes in the matter of the lose prisoners, the company of Ninurtusur decided they seen enough. As Lord Sandro stood up from his seat, the assembly behind him decided to follow behind, taking their exit through the other door. Brushing past the crowd they decided to leave this wretched place, as the purpose of their stay seemed to be without results.

As they made way for the street, they looked behind themselves upon the dome where they were gathered before, muttering along the way in taunting voices that only seemed to reaffirmed their distrust to the foreigners, and neighbours. Lord Sandro, who was silent before, decided to take the chance to announce his envoy, facing them as they exited through the back of the palace.

'' If these so-called guardians of Pandyssium cannot take care of a simple riot, whom in their sane mind would support such a crowd of incompetent ventures. I say, we are better of on our own, and not to bow down to such men whom rather be ruled by a child, then a leader. Let us make due of the stay we have here, and head home. This is no worthy of our time, and nor does it be worthy of our presence. Let these mere human antics be dealt by these defiles, and not let this dirt be on our hands ''

His delegation approved, nodding in correspondence to their Lords words. They decided to retract their steps to one of the numerous taverns, taking their time resting by as the chaos ensued outside. Besides the nervous barkeeper, it seemed no one was around to take notice of the pack of strange figures walking in to scheme in low voices, and sip on bottles of various fluids to come. After all, the House was a society built on the principles of civility above all else, so it only came natural to make due of the time before a chance to depart from the town.

Most lords barely payed attention to the departure of this delegation, but little escapes the yes of Garcias. He made a short mental note on them. Later that night he would pay a nice little spy to watch their movements.

The man, a short but pale orc, sat down at the tavern where the Sar-Shazzars were staying and ordered some bread and wine. He then leaned in. Listening... to the music being played by a bard... of course...

[Gunrado]

Gunrado

Music

Two riders atop stallions raced on the dusty country road to the imperial capital as the golden sun slowly set, the fields of vast coffee plantations surrounding them. Some serfs could be seen working on the horizon while the evening song of cicadas hummed throughout the valley, massive bloodhawks flying high overhead, darting from one distant mountaintop to another. Clouds of dust stirred under the steeds' hooves as their muscles pumped, speeding their riders ever forward.

And so the two sons of the Lord of Gunrado tried to outride each other, smiling and gritting their teeth as neither could finally defeat their opponent. Both wore the traditional clothing of Gunradoan nobility; long, light, and loose open coats without a tunic or undershirt, but instead their bared chests and large, elaborate golden necklaces, flaunting the wealth of the lordship and their family. The open coats were tied with black snakeskin leather belts and golden buckles, and underneath they wore trousers and black snakeskin leather boots. Both princes also had golden bracers inscribed with Gunradoan hymns to the Divine Lovers in the language's script.

Gurren of the Thoront wore a bright red coat with cream-colored trousers, riding a fierce black stallion, while his brother Jaun wore a blue coat and black trousers and rode a spirited grey and white-speckled horse. The two mounts began to breathe laboriously, and finally Jaun broke ahead of his brother, laughing and spitting in Gurren's path, shouting, "What future lord would allow for this crushing defeat?"

Gurren jokingly yelled from behind him, "Only a woman would claim such a petty victory!"

Jaun pulled his horse to a sudden stop, the animal nearly throwing him off, before replying, "The gods know our mother would!"

The two brothers laughed again and slowed to a trot. The two men, while coming from the same womb, looked strikingly different from each other. Gurren was truly the spitting image of his lordly father, slightly pale, stocky, and hairy, with muddy brown eyes and hair, though in the bright Gunradoan sun, hints of red could be seen. The younger Jaun, although named after his father, looked much more like his mother. He was slimmer than Gurren, and had his mother's emerald eyes and a full, fiery head of red hair.

And while both of the princelings appeared different, they were also different in their temperaments. Gurren was subtler than his brother, highly intelligent, and down-to-earth; his knowing, wry smile had brought him many bed warmers. While the night before he had enjoyed the company of a young lass, Crastano of the Nicinant, tonight he had hoped to bed a lady-in-waiting of his mother's, Sareno of the Murchulen. Jaun was louder, more passionate, and more rambunctious, often spiting his father's commands and acting spontaneously. Both men were heavy drinkers and partiers as all youth usually are.

The two royal sons panted for a moment; their race, initially just a little quickening of pace to relieve their boredom, had become a hard ride taking them miles ahead of their mother and sister in the convoy.

"How long, do you reckon, before the rest of them arrive?" Jaun questioned his brother.

Gurren sighed. "Likely some hours. I'm afraid we didn't realize our speed," he replied matter-of-factly, "Better rest some time now, it'll be a while."

---

"Where are those idiots?!" Elano of the Thoront, Lady of Gunrado, imperiously demanded to the captain of the guard, her head sticking out from the white curtains of her ornate litter carried by a horde of slaves. Guards, carriages, and other litters of the convoy carrying goods, gifts, and Gunradoan courtiers and retainers surrounded them and trailed behind them for hundreds of yards.

"Eh, umm...Pardon my lady, it will be some time, they r-raced each other ahead and gained considerable ground before…eh, my men could reach them. I assure you we'll catch up by nightfall," Captain Marck bumbled, sweat gathering above his brow. The woman's commanding nature coupled with her beautiful looks proved intimidating even to a veteran like Marck.

"Oh alright," Elano seemed to begrudgingly accept before adding, "but don't be such a sweaty, sputtering fool Marck, it's very disgusting, and you aren't getting any younger or handsomer."

Elano, in a flowing, dark green silk dress, abruptly closed the curtain to her litter and resumed her seat across from her daughter, the young Lady Yillo. Yillo looked half-shocked and half-amused at her mother, her eyebrows raised and her mouth shaped into a small smile.

"Why do you insist on treating our people with such cruelty?" she asked.

"Oh please, he knows I jest, and if he doesn't who cares? I'm his lord's wife," Elano said nonchalantly with a grin, "you silly little girl, you must learn that being nice to everyone serves no purpose...and makes you look weak."

Yillo smirked, and rolled her eyes. She had grown used to her mother's pragmatic ways. It was true, Yillo had been given the gift of beauty like her mother, but she didn't necessarily want to be as ambitious as her-not that she would ever voice this sentiment aloud. She reclined on the feathered pillows on her seat, taking a sip from her golden cup of wine while Elano looked on. Elano smiled at her daughter.

"You look perfect," the lady said boisterously, "How will the lords of the realm or any of their sons resist? They'll practically go mad looking at a Gunradoan beauty like my daughter."

The mother's words had weight. Yillo was renowned for her good looks; she had wavy brown hair the color of her father's, the powerful, alluring face and figure of her mother, and yellow eyes, eyes as golden as the mineral from the mines of her people, like many of the Thoront women. Her mother often joked that while the women of the Yalsh (the lady's family, powerful vassals headed by the Duke of Ell Aus, Jaimie of the Yalsh) had emerald eyes that would make a man dance, her daughter's eyes would make a man kill.

None could deny it as Yillo sat there in a slim silk dress that matched her eyes, the black makeup around them making them all the more intense. Her mother was proud of her daughter; she saw much of her young self now in Yillo. Although Elano's beauty still shone even now in her forties, her red hair, verdant eyes, and curvy figure still most desired, she knew that one day it would fade and it would be Yillo's turn to wield the seductive power of women for Gunrado…and more, if her plan succeeded.

Yillo blushed at her mother's words. "You really think I can seduce a member of the imperial nobility, or even the Lord Steward for that matter?" she wondered.

Elano burst into laughter. "Of course you can! Have you seen the painted cows the Pandyssians call women? All veiled up and quiet as mice, doing anything their husbands say like household dogs? Trust me dear, while men won't admit it, they like spirited women, women who can be strong confidantes and raise strong children. How do you think I caught your father? He was supposed to marry some Wolfs Island lech once…" She looked off in nostalgia, "I met him a week from his wedding. By noon next day, he had called off the whole affair and informed my father we would wed instead," she smiled at the memory.

"You ruined a noble marriage?!" Yillo exclaimed.

"Wasn't the first time or the last," Elano replied cooly, "When foreigners visit Gunrado for the first time, they expect to drink a lot of coffee, taste a lot of sugar, and look at a lot of mountains and forts. They don't realize where the real sugar is, and I helped a few poor souls find it," Elano smirked at her daughter.

"How scandalous!" Yillo said with more shock. Elano was unfazed.

"You have a lot to learn, my child, about power and how to get it as a woman. Hopefully you'll do the same as I did, for the betterment of your family and your people. Come, I have a gift for you."

Yillo's surprise transformed into delight as Elano opened a decorated cedar box and withdrew a golden necklace. The necklace was made up of small, demonic figures, with interchanging rubies, pearls, and emeralds for their eyes and claws.

Yillo stared at it with curiosity. "The warriors of the God of Blood, Gun. I love it mother, I truly do, but won't the Pandyssians find it a bit…?"

"Savage?" Elano gave her daughter a look of knowing and started to put the necklace on her, "Savagery brings with it a feel for the exotic. And nothing drives a man wild like the exotic. Why do you think old Ritnas and his men left their lands to conquer everything they could around the Slender Sea? Not to bring their pig wives gifts, I'll tell you that," She scoffed.

The royal mother and daughter gave each other a sincere, loving glance. "I'm so glad you're coming with us, mother," Yillo said as she took one of the little golden warriors into the palm of her hand.

"I am too, dear. But don't get too soft on me," She grinned and replied while taking a few grapes from the oaken table between them as she sat back down, "Being soft is such an Pandyssian trait nowadays, and we are children of the Divine Lovers, not those prissy imperials and their sewer goddess."

---

Caer Aard

And so while lords bickered and fought, and a riot of the commoners stopped the negotiations entirely, the lords of Gunrado-absent their liege- sat quietly, observing, whispering, glancing at each other with barely-contained grins. They looked smug. It was clear the affairs of the empire were in a mess, and if anyone knew about how to exploit a mess, it would be the enigmatic Gunradoans.

While a recess began after the days proceedings, Gurren spoke in a low tone to his mother in her litter as they and their retinues set off for one of the city's more expensive inns.

"Well…"

"Well, yes, my dear, that was a complete disaster for imperial authority. Nobles screaming like children, insulting the imperial family openly, the savage races getting uppity and everyone grabbing for power at once," Lady Elano burst into laughter.

Her son smiled. "It's a goldmine."

"Yes, darling, it is," Elano nodded with a smile, "and who knows better of goldmines then us?"

[Mesrane]

Caer Aard

Owain pulled his sword from the corpse of a prisoner as guards began to line the bodies up along one of the crumbling curtain walls. He, along with the knights Ser Jaymes Barrach and Ser Boyd Griogal, accompanied by five-men-at-arms, had ventured outside of the pavilion to help put down the short-lived riot. They had stayed tightly grouped as they cut down any who would not return to their cells. Ser Griogal had suffered a gash to his arm, but the cut was shallow and a bandage from a guard's tunic had stopped the bleeding quickly.

Erlend had remained inside with Eriadha's four dukes, along with another four men-at-arms. Owain and the others came trampling in, wiping sweat from their brows. Erlend hadn't failed to notice House Shar-Shazzar slip out of the Caer Aard for good. Like much of what had happened over the past two or so hours, he wasn't sure if that would turn out to be a positive development or a negative one. Yes, it demonstrated to all present just how deep the cracks in the Empire ran, but it also removed one of the most reform-friendly houses that could've possibly attended the Caer Aard.

Owain, on the other hand, had only just managed to contain a smile when his grandfather informed him of their departure. Small rocks tumble down the mountain, but what shall shake the boulders? He thought to himself. Still, he didn't think it wise that House Eriadunn should depart altogether. Even if Erlend intended to go with his previous plan to stonewall both potential heirs, it would be wise to hear the rest of the council out.

At the edge of the Eriadunn section, Domnall Eriadunn, Lord Provost Marshal of the Empire, was going through what amounted to the hardest decision he had ever been forced to face in his life. House or Empire? Family or Country? House or Empire? Family or Country? Damn Uncle Erlend, damn Belrond, damn them all! The nervous thoughts would not stop flickering through Domnall's mind. The number of ways in which this could go wrong were virtually endless. The bickering of the Lords was not helping him to think at all, and that was all he wanted to do at that moment, was to go into a quiet cellar and just think for a way out of things. Finally he stood up. "ENOUGH!!! Please do as the Lord Steward has suggested, let us quiet down and continue the vote over the rightful heir. I have; two for Cassyndra, three for Teren, one abstention from the now-absent House Shar-Shazzar. Let us continue the vote, and afterwards take a vote on Regent. After that, I suggest we give considerable thought to some of the reforms proposed earlier." He paused, shifting his gaze around the pavilion, finally resting on Belrond. He was acutely aware of Erlend and Owain behind him, the former barely keeping his grin under wraps and the latter actually frowning deeply just to keep a smile out of his face.

Domnall hurriedly returned to his seat. As he did so, he turned around to behold Erlend staring straight at him. There was an almost imperceptible nod from him as he titled his chin ever so slightly. Swallowing, Domnall knew what that nod communicated. He wondered if there would ever be any going back from this day. Good choice.

[Alleniana]

House Venor

Immediately, after appreciating the weapon put into his hand, he stepped outside, looking around and thankfully finding none of the escapees close enough to their own room to do any damage. Taking a quick walk around the area, it was not long before he found soldiers who seemed to suggest that everything was under control. At that point, he found his way, albeit through a detour, back to the room in which the voting had taken place. He did not remember who he had gotten the sword from; he leaned it on the doorframe, where no prisoner could run and get it, but where it was far away enough as not to seem a threat to the peaceful integrity of the meeting.

As he sat, it seemed there was still talking. He finally settled into his chair as the Lord Provost Marshal had tried to calm things down, and finished speaking.

"Yes... it would appear the riot is over, or at least mostly over. Let us calm ourselves, rest from the... disorder, and continue with this business. The longer we lack a proper government, the more disorderly things will become."

The empire, though it had not gone without a monarch for long, would soon feel the strain of the lack of a head, which might well only further the indecisiveness, and... well, treasonous sentiments running around. If things could be concluded, and fast, that would be for the best for everyone. Well, nearly everyone.

[The Grey Wolf]

The uproar did not cause even a hint of disturbance on the face of the chamberlain. Sandy simply remained in his chair, the fingers on his left hand tapping against the table, and his right hand laid on his lap, in case he needed to reach for his broadsword.

"I trust that nasty little fiasco was taken care of?" he asked the man from House Venor. "Now then, I would very much like to vote on this matter, but I have not been authorized by my House to throw in my vote of confidence, I remain a simple observer. I should like to remind everyone though," he glanced at the presumptuous elf women who presumed to insult the imperial bloodline. "That House Wolfson remains eternally loyal to our benefactors. Any attack on House Rahtis is as good an attack on ourselves."

The elderly old man with a few tufts of grey hair on his head fell silent again, observing each and every member of the table. As before, he did not push matters or even argue. He simply sat there, like a serpent, or perhaps a spider, watching them, trying to uncover their weaknesses.

[Slakonian]

Highever, the Dreadfort

The sun was rising in Highever, the seat of House Threnhold will have a new ruler sooner or later... a man that has been ruling for the last 15 years.

Hoster was walking on the dark corridors inside the castle, he stopped and looked outside the window the slowly ascending sun, the Dreadfort is a strong fortress, with high walls and triangular merlons that look like sharp stone teeth. It has thick stone walls and massive towers while a bridge connects the castle with the city of Highever, an enemy may take with ease the city but not the castle unless they have an inside agent ,My time has finally come, after all these years. he thought. He begun walking once again, two guards were standing in in fornt of the doors in the throne room, after seeing Hoster the were on attention stance and saluted their lord and Hoster answered the same in respect for the two men of his personall retinue. The fire inside the big fire was warm and cozy, he could sit on the chair right now and take nap but it would have to wait. The great hall was is dim and smoky, with rows of torches grasped by skeletal goblin & orcish heads jutting from the walls. Long tables stand before a dais with a high table. The hall has a vaulted ceiling and wooden rafters turned black from smoke for hundred of years. Hoster had ordred the fireplace to be rebuilt with a new design so that the smoke can go outside as the smoke has tired him after all these years.

The huge blue crystaline windows alongside with the sun gave a beautiful purple colour inside the great hall. He approached slowly the throne, the same throne were the Teyrns of Sahrnia used to sit upon and rule a realm of their own. But it matters not, now the Dukes are ruling Sahrnia. A column of 3 armed men approached him and stopped then a knight made a few more steps, the was Howland de Brevin - his brother-in-law and current Master-At-Arms of the castle.

"M'lord, it's your father, he... asked for you". He paused not knowing what to say. Hoster moved to the small door back from the throne on the left. One by one step he started to ascend on the Westford Tower where his father resided. Despite the tower was triangul from the outisde the stairs from the inside were elyptical, Hoster believes that the towers used to be cyrcular many centuries back but they decided to change the outside part of the tower so that the walls could be thicker and stronger. The banners were high moving by the wind atop of the tower. As he was ascending upstairs he saw various paintings of various previous occupiers of the tower. He noticed Sir Kay, his son Sir Ector & his grandson Sir Arthur. All of them ancestors of his - his great-great-great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather & finally great-grandfather, all of them served as Chamberlains for the Empire and knighted by the Emperors themselves. Thankfully for Hoster himself his grandfather Florian "the Good" was made a Duke after his uncle Duke Alistair was lost at the sea while travelling to Augliac to negotiate with them, never hearing for him again without leaving an issue.

He arrived at the door, the door was open and some members of his family were inside, giving comfort to the Duke during his last moments. All rose when he got inside the room.
"Leave us" said Rogar to everyone. One by one all people left, the last was Mellisa - Hoster's wife giving a kiss to his cheek and closed the door but not before looking one last time towards the two men. The room smelled sickness and decay just like his father. Rogar had become a meer shadow of his former self, the former fat smiley lord had lost a considerable amount of weight for the last two years. He couldn't smile or make a joke anymore, and he was a real toothless lion.

"My son... the end is nigh for me...." He coughed heavily with blood covering his wrinkled hands, which he cleaned them right on his clothes. He didn't bothered using paper anymore. The end was near after all. Hoster reamained silent and never sat down as his father nodded to do so. "Hhmmm, I had lived a very long life, I thought I would have died years ago <coughs>, no matter it seems. I have too many memories to bear for me to remember all but we Threnholds are cursed with good memory as our house words say Never Forget<coughs heavily>. I saw my father died from the pox, many wives had past from my bed but still I cannot forget the littlest of the details. The day you were born it was a miracle for me. 11 years after my own natural son was born.... Maekar." He paused and looked towards the fire and then looked again to Hoster. "You always looked like your mother. Leandra was a good woman, yet she still died and I lived".

She died because of you old man, Limp Lion thought Hoster as he wanted to shout towards his father. Yet he remained silent, Hoster always allowed the others to talk first so that he can understand their intentions.

"As you know you are my heir and have been ruling in my steed for 21 years now. But you must know that I have legitimized Maekar and recognized him his surname as cadet brnach of House Threnhold whcih means house Lollard can claim your lands as he is my son as much as you. Also my late wife will be taken care off and so does our unborn son if her words are truthfull to be believed... I mean you were born why not another son?" He said in authorative manner wanted to intimidate Hoster, his last words though were sound like a joke. A failure to submit someone once again.... he couldn't even submit a peasent not even his family. "Promise me..." he begged in the end.

Hoster grabbed the note quickly took the chair and sat near the fireplace and red the note, all what he said was true. He got up slowly and smiled slowly to his father but that smile was an angry one."NEVER FORGET" He shouted loudly,"Never Forget, those are our house words father.... My "brother" wanted to my to take by force my birthright. My birthright you understand. Now I can see why you called me to return to your side when I was fighting with Sir Robert during his rebellion..... a good man, but it seems good men always die with a sword on their hands with their honor intact the rest of us are part of the Grand Game hmmmm. I thought you called me out of love, out of need but no you didn't. You called me so that you can seperate me from him and I would be killed by Imperial forces but you didn't anticipate Edmund's victory neither me hastly arrival. You sent me to crush Robert's Rebellion in the first place so that I can be killed because you loved HIM" he exclaimed anrgily, Hoster never allowed his anger take the better of him but this time he couldn't handle it.

He torned the paper apart and threw it to the fire. He approached his father and touched his father right on his head and wishpered to his ear: "Never Forget lord father, a traitor cannot be a claimant to my Sahrnia, after all we cannot endager our position by future succession wars by pressed claims from my good brothers bastard children.... He begged the Emperor to even assist him because he told I was part of the rebellion as well" He smiled sarcastically and touched his ear and then he left his side. He approached the window and opened it, fresh air after many months of decay came in. Hoster felt reborn for a moment and then looked to his father who was shocked of what his son had done thus far during his regency, even tearing the apart the papers was part of it.

Hoster was looking outside Highever, the Hrothgar Mountains.... and started to speak again:"Thankfully your stupid act calling me saved me as well but Sir Robert died alone with me unintentionally betraying him. When the Emperor asked for me I saw myself in front of him, he asked If I did participated in the rebellion, as natural I lied and told him that the Counts used my banner alongside with those peasents to create dissenet within the Empire and insult his authority." A bird was flying outside, probably a yellow-purple Sahrnian pigeon but he didn't gave any further attention and looked towards his fahter once again."And the Emperor believed me, as a drunken brawl he was. As for my Lord Paramount was happy to just get ridden off those damn orcs and goblins of his realm once adn for all while the Knight-Commander did sucpect me but didn't had any proof against me so this were it stopped. As for my brother the Emperor made him a member of the Blades for two reasons; one he was a good warrior and second as some sort of punishment for his waste of time. Robert's Rebellion triggered other major peasent rebellions which HE had to crush."

He looked more closely to his father; he hadn't noticed that he died, he took the crown out of his head and put onto his head. Out of the closet a woman suddenly appeared, Gloria, his fathers late wench-wife. She seemed to have heard everything thus far, her eyes could be seen full of greed; maybe she could threat the new Duke himself?....

The Dread Knight

My name is Sir Maekar also known as the "Grey Griffon", natural son of Rogar - Duke Sahrnia & Warden of West Vallorion. I am the rightful heir to Highever and the Duchy of Sahrnia but I was sunned from my birthright by my "trueborn" brother Hoster. For 14 years I have served faithfully in the Blades- for 14 I was sent all over to crush rebellions in the Empire's name - for 14 years I had converted to the old orthodox Faith, recognizing my heretical blasphemic views as false - for 14 despite my oaths found comfort on many womens whelps without the knowledge of anyone; well except of these beautiful courtesans of course, I had sired 14 children with 3 of them being sons - the eldest Thomas was 12, the middle Karl 8 and the youngest Charles being 3. I am wearing full battle armor while wielding my big hammer ready to fight. Many thought a ghoul or a demon was in that mixed dwarven-orcish made armor but it was a mear human.. well not just any human but Sir Maekar Lollard. The Caer Aard had become chaotic if you ask me but you just review my point of view. The Knight-Commander ordred to make a cricle of protection around the heir apparents. I approached near the men protecting Teren, suddenly a man in dirty tunic came out of nowhere with some of the nobles screamed while others got their swords out ready to kill any transgressor. The man was an elven prisoner adn tried to attack me... yes me one of the greatest knights in the entire realm with a knife. I wielded my hammer with and hit the elven man right on the stomach and threw him on the air as it was like a piece of feather. The cracks inside his bones could be held by anyone with a good hearing.

The man fell crying and spitting blood. I got up from my battle stance to that of a executionare and made my demonic laugh. I am damn tall and very scary for my foes & friends alike in this damn good armor. My muscles were aching for more violence. The stench from the man was awful, gargane and blood run aflood alike. I raised my hammer and hit him once again on his stomach... his organs has spread everywhere and he was still alive, remarkable if you come and think of it hehe. Well anyhow as he was was shacking for mercy I decided I should give what he wanted. I looked the little chaos around and then looked again to the poor fellow.

So Maekar screamed:"Let's play ball" and hit the man head which got out of his destoyed body and was thrown away on the other side of the gathering while he thought he heard Cassyndra screaming while Teren stayed speechless. Makear gazed first ot the body and then to the Knight-Commander Pannonius Lancaster for any approval or dissaproval: "Sorry Knight-Commander but you know me, I cannot play good on closed quarters like these" he said sarcastaically.

[Kaledoria]

The men of Röken

Otto Lichtenburg joined his other Burgmeisters and together they decided to follow a stream of richer looking and less defended people, judging that if they should cross the way of any robbers it would be wise to have a better target as a distraction nearby.


Götz von Bernstein finally had his rapier back. From an elevated spot on a table in a corner he overlooked the situation. Guards were busy running and yelling. People were running left and right. Some where trying to hide. Some of the delegates from the other really were just sitting or trotting about, looking a mix of confused and smug. Götz knew that expression. Country people - from farmer to respectable landowner - had that expression on their faces every time one saw the harbor of Röken for the first time "What a chaos, this can't work efficiently. You have to do that calm and orderly" or something like that they usually said, yet each day the harbor managed to proceed goods worth more than one of those people did in a hundred lifetimes. Götz looked closer and realized the order below the chaos. The civilians flew out in three streams sorted by wealth and defensibility, more intuitive then organized, yet efficient. The guards fell in two categories: Some stormed out to secure a save perimeter around the high value civilian stream, some rushed towards the source of the panic - the prison. Everybody knew what he had to do and they did not care that it looked chaotically if two of them with different tasks ran past another.

Then Götz saw a men whose tunic insignias identified him as a member of the blades. Had not the Steward ordered every able men to help them protect the imperial family? He followed the Blade out of the room. Running next to him along the hallway he shouted "Name is Götz, City regiment of Röken. As commanded by the Steward, I'm at your service.

His service was not needed, although he was pleased to see the Princess-Empress, the number of defenders who had already surrounded her when they arrived was far more then enough to demotivate any attempt an assassin might have had to take advantage of the chaos and attack them. Soon the situation was over and the quite, well armed group had not seen a single escaped prisoner or otherwise hostile.

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

Caer Arad, Imperial Heartlands

The absence of the Lord Morgan Malicium was a slight that was unanticipated surely by the men of the realm, an even some of the elves. What was more, his infamously cruel son Mordred sat with his arms crossed in the seat reserved for his father, smoking on a pipe full of opium, hashish, and shish. His guard, and enforcer Drusilla, sat beside him, listening intently to the bickering nobility. The bored elf prince tapped his long clawed fingers against one of the three skulls hanging from his belt in chains, staring off into an intoxicated space with a blank expression of disinterest. He'd objected to attending, however upon Drusilla's insistence he acquiesced and had departed from Tevlorn a few days prior. He had prepared for this long period of humans arguing about the affairs of the sinking ship that was the Empire by stocking his satchel with narcotics, and as such faded in and out. All the while, Drusilla simply retained the information with a slight interest. The more interesting part would be the voting to come.

[Ghondra]

The Knight-Commander inspected the streets of the City of Caer Ard with disgust, like his blade the streets ran red with blood, the Household Guards of the High Lords have done a number on the Ruffians, their bodies now being piled up by the dozens in a series of mass graves that ran like rings around the city. He scrunched his nose, choking at the smell of relieved, rotting corpses, he hated the stench of dead bodies, never have, even countless battles and campaigns have not changed that fact.

He silently thanked the that the heirs were 20 leagues away by now, holed up in a tower used by the late Emperor to bed his Mistresses and surrounded by a dozen Knights of the Emperor's Blades, they were too young to witness the bloodbath.

He walked slowly to the stables near the gates of the cities, almost no one was there at the moment. His heavy armor heaved against the cobbled roads as he neared the gates. He found himself flanked by two of his men, the Knight Sir Walther "The Green Lion" Dayne of Gunrado, and the Knight Sir Mayce "Grey Sword" Prancer of Wolfson, they ordered the men who manned the gates to open it, who did so promptly. After another minute of walking he found himself in front of a Watchman, stripped of his clothes and Armor, but the telltale tattoo of the City Watch was emblazoned like a badge on his shoulder, the man was being guarde by the Knight Sir Tyler Tellegara, his body frozen in place as his eyes locked on the captive, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"So where did you find this... man" Pannonius asked, spitting on the ground next to the captive watchman. "He was trying to escape the city, before Tellegara here got a hold of him" Dayne, the Gunradoan Knight answered, nodding to Tellegara in acknowledgement, "Did he said something of interest to you?"

"Something that concerns all of us, including the lords" Tellegara answered before either of the two knights flanking the Knight-Commander could answer, "Tell him Dog" He nudged the man with his left leg, as if commanding a dog.

"We released the prisoners" The man said without pause, the Knight-Commander eyes widened, his expression contorted into one of shock, and as swiftly as the shock came, so did the legendary Lancaster fury, "WHY DID YOU RELEASE THE PRISONERS?! WHY DID YOU RISKED THE LIVES OF NOT ONLY THE HEIRS BUT INNOCENTS AS WELL!" He yelled in absolute fury, kicking the man repeatedly. The two knights barely managed to restrain the man, now roaring with anger. Tellegara didn't seem to mind.

"WHO TOLD YOU TO DO IT!" Pannonius roared.

"Garcias Tellegara"

[The Starlight]

2 hours before sunset, Caer Aard
Duke Belrond once again called the Caer Aard back from recess, and back to voting. Votes were still needed from several houses and he announced this, saying, "We still need votes from several houses, so please stand up and vote for who you want to be the next emperor. After this, we will vote for regents, if Teren wins, and if not, we will discuss and vote on reforms."

---

Lord Saerondr stood up, ready to declare his vote. "House Tarembor votes for the young Teren." he said shortly, before nodding and sitting back down, gazing at the various people in the room.
Just after he sat down, a half-eaten apple fell into the middle of the circle. Every noble looked up at Davit. With a nod and signal, the Blades quickly blocked off the entrances, other Blades going to upstairs to drag the eavesdropper downstairs and bring him before the lords and ladies of Pandyssium. Davit was dragged by two of the blades, Duke Belrond looked sternly at him. "What were you doing, young man, spying on the Caer Aard? Do you not know that this is a crime punishable by death, exile and several other options depending on how merciful I feel? Speak!"

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

Caer Arad, Quarters of the Drualie Delegation
Evening

Mordred sipped lightly on his vodka, pondering the situation at hand over a hookah filled with the same mixture he'd been puffing on at the meeting. The powerful narcotics brought the corrupted elf some bliss. On one hand, there was his liege, or rather his father's liege Tellegara, siding with the severely retarded puppet. While this was advantageous, there was still the question as to whether Tellegara would honor the elves should they pledge their support and take the political route. The opposition was in favor of a bastard Emperor, a child and also rightfully a puppet. There were however technicalities...all in all, the elf Lord surmised he'd visit Lord High Steward Tellegara, and then proceed to visit the Edalie contingent.

"Drusilla, send word to father of the days proceedings," He delicately ordered, slowly rising from his relaxed pose in the massive leather backed oaken throne. "I have some matters to handle. See you for dinner, then." He waved her off, then exited his tent. The delegation was small, and rightfully so for a city. It was strange how high the nobility of the largest city in the Crownlands ranked in relation to their holdings. There were so many people crammed into the greater area of Tevlorn, it had earned a reputation for it's shady streets and underground occult shops. Necromancy was rumored to thrive, and though there was a high crime rate, it was the only representation of Eastern Drualie culture left on the continent. He decided to flaunt his presence to the other Tellegara vassals and so strode past with a pompous smirk and slightly exaggerated flourish. Moving into the tent of his liege, and past the guards following a wordless flash of his signet ring, he bowed, lazily, and rose to meet his dull gaze with Tellegara. "My Lord, a word if you had time?" His voice questioned, betraying his deceptively young appearance as it laced his words with wisdom. As he spoke, his dry and aristocratic tone seemed to split in two, one side lacing the message with tones of honey, smooth like glass. The other, however, oozed of loathing, and even worse, of sheer madness. It was an elven way, often times the beings were paradox, moreso in the east.

[Slakonian]

"Red" Jenny Dάndzialf

Late evening, outside the capial city
Something was different this evening. There was an edge to this darkness that made their hackles rise. Eleven and a half days they had been riding, south & southwest and then south again, further and further away from Vollorion.... from Sahrnia, hard to press on due to highwaymen. Each day that had past was better than the next that would follow. Today was the worst of all. A very sudden cold wind was blowing out of the southeast, and it made the trees rustle like living things - as it wasn't enough the rumours that they were alive anyhow. All day, the 50 men & women of the Sahrnian host always felt as though something were watching him, something greedy & evil that would gladly end them despite being in full armor, the blue armor with the grey lion - her father's sigil- in the middle. Jenny had felt it too, unfortunately. Jenny wasn't so much used too riding off Vallorion - especially Sahrnia, but circumstances had changed their plans otherwise.

The previous day they found highwaymen on the middle of the Imperial Highway in a very bright day, butchered a family of elves while they "entertained" themselves with the one of the women, probably the daughter. The road was turning so the highwaymen didn't saw the rest of the host who were minutes behind due to the woods covering them. They thought they would have been an easy prey when the saw Jenny as the head, they slit the throat of the girl and ready themselves to take the next meal. A battle quickly ensued but soon enough the rest of the host caought them up and won them quite easily.... For their crimes Jenny punished them by flaying as no one was around to object, 14 men out of the 30 were flayed alive and hunged on the trees as warning to the other highwaymen while the burned the bodies of the elves. Jenny spared only two of the rest of the survivors, the second-in-command was blinded and castrated while another, a weakling was cuffed with him:Tell them "Red" Jenny will not tolerate crime from highwaymen, say them this.

She was smart enough not telling her name but someone might sucpect, but without proof words are wind..... What did matter though is one thing, with the Empire headless more and more signs of chaos would be seen in the future such as these. Having a drunken Emperor was rather better than having not, that was sure. Imperial soldiers used to patrol these roads but many of them were called to the capital for the Caer Aard or closed themselves within their camps.

The Sahrnian host arrived in the capital late evening for the Caer Aard, their small odysseus they had made them late two days off the original schedule which wasn't good. Jenny never tolerated such failures, especially if her father ordered her to be in time. The gates were still open but the city guardsmen stopped them.One of the city guard approched with his armor heaving while one of his comrades was several steps behind for cover.

"State your bussiness!" said the guard, the words were sound automatic, probably already told this many times thus far.

Sireress Kauthrien moved from the middle of the host and approached the gate - her appearance even to this day always testifies that of a normal woman rather than a knight - she stopped in front of the guard who was quite suprised, she gave him a paper with a seal on and then she announced "This is a Sahrnian host which is part of the Vallorian delegation of the Caer Aard, loyal bannermen to House Tarembor - Lords Paramount of Vallorion - we demand you let us in."
The guard talked to the other guard, they let them in but as they were entering into the city they overheard some other southorn nobles calling them heretics while an other spit in front of their horses. Jenny ordred two of her men to give them a lesson, the two men confroted the trio who dared to insult them, the men didn't even bothered to dismount and so they kicked on them right on his and pushed an other. The three fell on a pile of mud and horseshit while the Sahrnian host was laughing at them with some spitting on them rather than in front of them.

The city was bustling with activity thanks of the Caer Aard even in late evening which was quite unusual, on the steets patrols were combined of many different houses retinues, city's watch, imperial legionnares and even the Blades themselves. Jenny hoped to meet the Sir Maekar the "Grey Griffon" who called himself the Dread Knight in person but she knew deeply inside her that such chance were very slim, although they were both bastards the difference between them is that she never and never will betray her house. She choose to remain a bastard while he wanted to legitimize himself and take her father's lands and titles in expesne of his entire family. Darkness was approaching as the sun slowly descended but steadily away into the sea....

The Sahrnian host was given instructions on how to find their way to Lord Saerondr's estate inside the city, decay was all around and the stench was horrible. They heard from the smallfolke that some prisoners had escaped during the Caer Aard session and in the ensuing chaos some managed to find their way into the city but most were killed by the troops within the gathering who were many as they were guarding their respective lords. Jenny noticed the mass graves around the city who came from the Caer Aard, she was told of total mutilation from her uncle the "Grey Griffin" of a elven man, whose blood couldn't remove from the carpet and so the carpet itself was removed.
Finally the Sahrnians arrived at the estate, a heavy archer was above at the roof who seemed to noticed them, in the small gate there were two guards from the outside while on the inside were another 3. Jenny noticed Sir Kaeldrok Haharis, a dwarwen knight part of the lord's household, she knew him before and vice versa and allowed to enter the estate.

"My lady if you came for the gathering you are a bit... late but the lords hadn't decided yet of whom will be the next Emperor or Empress. Is there anything I can do for you?" asked humbly the dwarf.

"Tell your lord we have arrived, also give this letter from my father."

My Lord Paramount,

In great grief I have to inform you of my father's death. Lord Rogar II known as "the Old" commonly.
I have bad news for you your lordship, as the Empire remains headless highwaymen have taken the initiative in the Imperial Highway itself while other robber barons are hiding into the forests hitting noble and smallfolk alive. The legionnares are currently saying inside their camps doing nothing than lazing as they cannot take action as the Empire remains headless. We must adjourn this situation with force and quickly.

As I am writing more and more reports of violence, necromancy, dissent and falso rumors of a impeding invasion from Augrliac are on the rise day by day. You can foresee yourself that this "choosing" will take some time so I ask you as your loyal bannerman to raise some of the levies of the realm in your name to bring order and deal with these scums and NOW before it's too late.

I am assuring you the trader vessels haven't seen any Augrilac warship within the our vicinity as it is and I don't we will see any soon enough. But if this news are going to fell into the wrong ears, some will take the advantage to raise havoc by raising their banners of war... we must be prepared.....

Yours sincerly,
Duke Hoster Threnhold of Sahrnia and Warden of West Vallorion.

[Annihilators of Chan Island]

Steward Belrond was not in any mood for negotiation. Before he could speak, Belrond simply ordered Davit to the dungeons. Escorted by a whole 8 members of the Blades, the intruder was brought out of the Caer Aard meeting.

As the doors closed, Belrond looked at the rest of the nobles and comments'' It's been a long day and I grow weary. Continue the vote. Or not, I've really lost track at this point, although my son Garcias has probably marked you all already... Whatever is the case, vote away. Either vote for the new Empress, or vote to adjourn this meeting until tomorrow.''

Belrond sat down, then continued'' Please make this quick. We have much to discuss tomorrow... once we know who the new monarch is going to be.''