To Fell an Empire 3.0 [IC]

[Annihilators of Chan Island]

Belrond frowned and demanded in that commanding regal voice he had'' Calm down Lord Ranger! Trial by combat is not the way we do things in the Imperial Heartlands!''

He looked over to his son, then looked back at the rest of the assembly'' Sheath that dagger and take your seat. You can explain your complaints in civilized fashion and no blood will need to be drawn...''

With that, Belrond dramatically stood up and put his hand down his back. then, over his head, Belrond Tellegara drew out nice and clearly his Zweihander Longsword. Looking at the behemoth of a blade and it's golden hilt for a moment, the Lord Steward then announced'' A cursed Caer Aard, when the law is disobeyed! Sit down Edward Ranger, take your seat, and negotiate like the rest of us!''

Lowering and pointing it at the Esterlander revealed just how prepared this room was for a fight. Every guard on every door drew swords, or lowered spears and poleaxes at the threat. A crossbowman appeared behind Maria of House Camp and aimed the weapon at Ranger. Not a single sane or unprepared lord, even from the Heartlands, could now sit comfortably in their chairs.

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Tyler woke up in his bed in the castle. A watchman stood over and quickly reported''Sir, we arrested Pannonius Lancaster and 4 accomplices at the fish market. Many brave knights and men died at the skirmish, and a few bodies are being hauled out of the dockyards, but we will have a number soon enough.''

Tyler was not in the mood'' Great. Good work in restraining those ruffians?''

''Thank you sir.''

''Anything else?''

''Caer Aard owes it's safety to you, Sir. I think the commander of the Watch is going to be putting a commendation for you to be replaced as the commander of the Blades....''

''Thank you. Now can I reap some immediate rewards?''

Silence. The Watchman then walked slowly away from the bed, looking at Tyler's bloodshot eyes, and commented'' Certainly Sir...''

''Good night then!''

''Good night.''

[Kaledoria]

The men of Röken

When the Gunrados proclaimed their vote, Götz von Bernstein, too, clapped and could not resist laughing. The stern gaze of his Burgmeister silenced him but the young men could not resist to explain himself, silent enough that the other delegations would not hear it: "Hey, you yourself said, you would not trust them to come to our aid, should the barbarian tribes unite against us once more, if it was not for the hand of a leader with the necessary privileges and taxes and he totally agrees with you, as it seams. And united in mistrust, you both work together."

Otto Lichtenburg could see the irony in that but could not find it funny. The Gunrado ambition for a High Lord Militant was ... mediocre. He would have preferred some men from the lesser houses in Szalen'dar, Grecia or even the Esterlands, who (be Otto's opinion) were to self-concerned to be good council members but at least they knew that Augrilac might be the biggest and most advanced neighbor but the, small backward barbarians were here, right next to Pandyssium and ever-violent.
Still, there were worse choices, too. Should this become a topic today, Otto would wait and see who else ...

Edmond Ranger stormed in and interrupted Otto's thoughts. Otto just now realized, that Edmond had not been with his delegation until now.

And then he issued the challenge under the old tradition of trial by combat. The masses were shocked. Luckily Belrond calmed the situation down. Nevertheless, this was not good. Even if Caer Aard was a city of the heartlands, in a conflict like this, the one to deny a request like that would be the Emperor - or in the current case the Regent. He looked firmly at Domnall Eriadunn and hoped, that he would support the Steward's call, both, in his position as Lord Provost Marshal and as the other possible Regent in order to not split the Empire over another point.

[Mesrane]

Caer Aard

Domnall put his face in his hands. The previous day's meeting had been testy, for certain, especially with its numerous interruptions. But this . . . If not the Empire coming apart at the seams, then it was a foreboding precursor to just that. He let the shouting and saber-rattling carry on for a bit until it became nothing more than a drone in his ears. Finally, almost against his will, he drew his dirk and flung it with a seething rage into the grass between Belrond and Edmond. It was buried nearly hilt-deep into the ground. The shouting died down, but the tension was only doubled.

His eyes burning with rage, he strode over and retrieved the dagger. "Children like to hit one another with sticks before they talk like men. Which are we today, lords? I hope the latter. Be it Ninturtusur or Augrilac, at some point we all must stand together as one on the field of battle. Are we to slay at one of the most dire times in the Empire's history? Edmond, perhaps your anger is well-placed, perhaps it is not, but in the name of the empire's continued longevity, put down that sword!" He then whirled to face Garcias. "But," he hissed. "A certain someone ought to explain himself."

[Ghondra]

Caer Aard

Domnall put his face in his hands. The previous day's meeting had been testy, for certain, especially with its numerous interruptions. But this . . . If not the Empire coming apart at the seams, then it was a foreboding precursor to just that. He let the shouting and saber-rattling carry on for a bit until it became nothing more than a drone in his ears. Finally, almost against his will, he drew his dirk and flung it with a seething rage into the grass between Belrond and Edmond. It was buried nearly hilt-deep into the ground. The shouting died down, but the tension was only doubled.

His eyes burning with rage, he strode over and retrieved the dagger. "Children like to hit one another with sticks before they talk like men. Which are we today, lords? I hope the latter. Be it Ninturtusur or Augrilac, at some point we all must stand together as one on the field of battle. Are we to slay at one of the most dire times in the Empire's history? Edmond, perhaps your anger is well-placed, perhaps it is not, but in the name of the empire's continued longevity, put down that sword!" He then whirled to face Garcias. "But," he hissed. "A certain someone ought to explain himself."

Edmond's face turned to steel as he lowered his Sabre, he breathed once than twice, calming himself down as he observed his situations. He and his men were surrounded on all sides, no avenues of escape available, if he chooses to fight, all would be lost, perhaps even his life would be lost. And then he considered the Lord Eriadunn's words, yes, he realized, they were acting like children. "Very well my Lord Eriadunn, I shall lower my sword, and I expect the same from Lord Belrond, but I will not let this go If I don't receive an explanation from..." He pointed his index finger to the seated Garcias, "Him, my son would not follow a criminal unless he has a reason for doing so. And I want an explanation"

He turned to Domnall, "An honest explanation"

-----
Dungeons of the Caer Ard
Edward Ranger

Thirst, after a day in the dungeons, Edward Ranger, a Knight of the Emperor's Blades knew only thirst. For 24 Hours he had been imprisoned by the City Watch, he was blindfolded, but even without his vision he was fully aware of where he was, the Dungeons. And not a friend in sight. He didn't want to die here, he wanted to die in a warm bed and surrounded by family, he didn't want to die in a cold dungeon far away from home.

"Edward!" A voice whispered, rousing Edward from his half-slumber, a state he had discovered during his stay in the dank cells of the City Dungeons. "Who are you?" Edward said weakly, "A friend" the voice said as the metal bars unlocked

Edward smiled, yes, he would not die here.

[Annihilators of Chan Island]

Caer Aard

Domnall put his face in his hands. The previous day's meeting had been testy, for certain, especially with its numerous interruptions. But this . . . If not the Empire coming apart at the seams, then it was a foreboding precursor to just that. He let the shouting and saber-rattling carry on for a bit until it became nothing more than a drone in his ears. Finally, almost against his will, he drew his dirk and flung it with a seething rage into the grass between Belrond and Edmond. It was buried nearly hilt-deep into the ground. The shouting died down, but the tension was only doubled.

His eyes burning with rage, he strode over and retrieved the dagger. "Children like to hit one another with sticks before they talk like men. Which are we today, lords? I hope the latter. Be it Ninturtusur or Augrilac, at some point we all must stand together as one on the field of battle. Are we to slay at one of the most dire times in the Empire's history? Edmond, perhaps your anger is well-placed, perhaps it is not, but in the name of the empire's continued longevity, put down that sword!" He then whirled to face Garcias. "But," he hissed. "A certain someone ought to explain himself."

Edmond's face turned to steel as he lowered his Sabre, he breathed once than twice, calming himself down as he observed his situations. He and his men were surrounded on all sides, no avenues of escape available, if he chooses to fight, all would be lost, perhaps even his life would be lost. And then he considered the Lord Eriadunn's words, yes, he realized, they were acting like children. "Very well my Lord Eriadunn, I shall lower my sword, and I expect the same from Lord Belrond, but I will not let this go If I don't receive an explanation from..." He pointed his index finger to the seated Garcias, "Him, my son would not follow a criminal unless he has a reason for doing so. And I want an explanation"

He turned to Domnall, "An honest explanation"

-----
Dungeons of the Caer Ard
Edward Ranger

Thirst, after a day in the dungeons, Edward Ranger, a Knight of the Emperor's Blades knew only thirst. For 24 Hours he had been imprisoned by the City Watch, he was blindfolded, but even without his vision he was fully aware of where he was, the Dungeons. And not a friend in sight. He didn't want to die here, he wanted to die in a warm bed and surrounded by family, he didn't want to die in a cold dungeon far away from home.

"Edward!" A voice whispered, rousing Edward from his half-slumber, a state he had discovered during his stay in the dank cells of the City Dungeons. "Who are you?" Edward said weakly, "A friend" the voice said as the metal bars unlocked

Edward smiled, yes, he would not die here.

Garcias answered courteously'' As you probably remember from yesterday, there was a prisoner riot that interrupted our meeting.''

Belrond nodded in agreement. He remembered perfectly well. This emboldened his son'' Pannonius Lancaster, as is his duty, went out to investigate the cause of the prisoner riots. Now....''

He pulls out a copy of the warrant and reading through each crime, he gives the explanation'' He went and he investigated the prisoner riot... instead of doing his duty to protect the safety of the empire while half the city was in uproar! Instead of lending his blade to the protection of the Emperor and his citizens, he was investigating the cause of a long-passed riot! So, as the warrants here charges him, he was negligent of his duties.
That's the least of his crimes. He apparently captured a Watchman and made the man confess that he had started the riot on my pay. According to my source, although I havn't got all the details, he abused the man and made him confess that I had paid him, clearly meaning Pannonius Lancaster had already been conspiring against the realm, so strike that charge in! In addition, Pannonius Lancaster then used this incredibly flimsy evidence to move to arrest me, evidence so flimsy that it counts as false accusation, so strike that charge on the warrent.''

Edmund Ranger tried to interrupt, but Belrond lowered his Zweihander menacingly. Kevin Tellegara stood from his chair too, casually showing the world his sheathed sword. The move was mirrored by the numerous troops from Deon in the room. This shut up Ranger and allowed Garcias to continue speaking'' So already we have 3 crimes to put on Pannonius Lancaster. He then moved in and came to arrest me. With me at the time were 5 bodyguards, who's names are all listed on the warrant. Here is where Edward Ranger comes into the story. Unprovoked, the pair of them attacked and brutally murdered my bodyguards in front of my face! So that is 5 charges of murder... but wait. These people were people under the employ of House Tellegara. They were representatives of the crown in their dying moments... that makes the murder of these people treason! Yes, treason against the realm included, last I checked, murdering a chamberlain's bodyguards!''

At this point Edmund Ranger looked like he wanted to smash a table, but Garcias continued'' On the spot he arrested me and dragged me into house arrest... that's now something that is in my reputation forever. The fact that I have been arrested, even if illegally, is a stain on my reputation as a chamberlain and a Tellegara. So that's the last charge justified!''

Looking about dramatically, Garcias announced'' Edward Ranger, son of Edmund here, stood by Pannonius through-out the entire debacle. He defended his traitorous Commander even when I went through the legal channels to announce his arrest! Down in the fishmarket, he was among the knights who fought for this knight commander. That is insane, especially when I saw my cousin Tyler comes in showing them my arrest warrant, so unfortunately I had to add that too. I watched him cut down at least two officers of the Watch down there, so their deaths are listed, but I expect he has killed more!''

'' I understand your wrath, Lord Ranger. But, as we can see, your son was clearly acting in the wrong last night and he had to be arrested! Your son stood by a man conspiring to weaken the House of the Steward by illegitimate means! I have only operated through all the legal channels as is written in the law and decreed by our emperors.''

Finishing, he looks straight at the lord and says'' And the law is what stands in the Imperial Heartlands. If there is a problem, you take it to a judge and to a court. We put the accused on trail, present evidence and listen to witnesses. The judge then comes to the decision on whether the accused is innocent or guilty and is either released or punished accordingly. What we don't do, as you are so eager to do, is waste lives fighting in trials by combat that reward swordsmanship over actual judgement. So, there, I've presented my story and evidence, what is yours?''

With that, the lords and ladies of the Imperial Heartlands all nodded and gave a polite applause. With the exception of Belrond, who had gotten used to taking everything his son says with a pinch of salt, they all seemed impressed with what he had said. They eagerly look at Edmund of House Ranger....

[Ghondra]

-SNIP-

-SNIP-

Edmond glared at the Tellegara boy, but even with his heart full of anger and hate he knew that at least some of the words the boy had uttered was true, the dead bodies of the Mercenaries were testament to that.

"With all due respect, Lord Tellegara" Edmond said to gritted teeth, no respect in his voice, "I know my son, He is an honorable and just man, I am proud of the man he has become, and I know that Edward Ranger, The Black Knight, would not arrest an Innocent man, he would sooner kill the Lord-Commander before he would arrest an innocent man."

"I believe that the only way we can hear the truth is if The Commander is here, I believe that, in the interest of true justice, Pannonius Lancaster should be dragged here, and we should let him speak"

Edmond turned to Domnall, and then faced Belrond, "Are we in agreement my lords?"

(OOC: Sorry for the short post, I'm at school. And Annihilator, if you want to use my character for things like dialogue if you want to make the posts longer, you have my permission )

[Kaledoria]

The men of Röken

Otto Lichtenstein was content with the situation. Both aspiring Regents worked together in this situation, maybe there was still hope for the future of the Empire. As far as he was concerned, Garcias Tellegara or Edward Ranger could both, either or neither get their trial, this seamed like a personal feud.

The Chamberlain from Röken knew better. Walther von Stecken had been concerned to see, that his landsman had put his vote for House Tellegara as he had worked with Garcias for some time now and knew the man was dangerously ambitious. Putting him into a position, that was just 3 or 4 unfortunate fatal accidents (the late Emperor's children and Garcias' own father) away from the logical pretender to the throne of the Empire seamed like a bad idea to him. Thus Walther requested permission to speak from the Lord High Chamberlain and gave his opinion to the situation: "I do not want to defend Edward Ranger, especially if he has in fact slain Guardsmen in defense of Pannonius Lancaster after an official warrant was issued but, My Lord Garcias, where was your trust in our judicial process, when they came to arrest you?" Nodding towards Domnall Eriadunn he continued: "The Lord Provost Marshal may correct me if I'm wrong but the knight commander of the Blades does have the authority to issue that arrest and it would be the duty of an uninvolved judge to rule, that the witness, this arrest is based on, is false, not yours, Garcias."

Walther concluded, that now was the best situation for Domnall to get elected, as long as possibly undecided Lords would not know whether Garcias was in fact guilty or not and whether Belrond would or would not use his power as Regent to appoint a 'favorable' judge in the upcoming trials of Garcias and Edward, so he added: "But I shall be quite again, I do not want this to delay our election of a Regent any longer then necessary, as I'm sure, many here feel."

[Annihilators of Chan Island]

The men of Röken

Otto Lichtenstein was content with the situation. Both aspiring Regents worked together in this situation, maybe there was still hope for the future of the Empire. As far as he was concerned, Garcias Tellegara or Edward Ranger could both, either or neither get their trial, this seamed like a personal feud.

The Chamberlain from Röken knew better. Walther von Stecken had been concerned to see, that his landsman had put his vote for House Tellegara as he had worked with Garcias for some time now and knew the man was dangerously ambitious. Putting him into a position, that was just 3 or 4 unfortunate fatal accidents (the late Emperor's children and Garcias' own father) away from the logical pretender to the throne of the Empire seamed like a bad idea to him. Thus Walther requested permission to speak from the Lord High Chamberlain and gave his opinion to the situation: "I do not want to defend Edward Ranger, especially if he has in fact slain Guardsmen in defense of Pannonius Lancaster after an official warrant was issued but, My Lord Garcias, where was your trust in our judicial process, when they came to arrest you?" Nodding towards Domnall Eriadunn he continued: "The Lord Provost Marshal may correct me if I'm wrong but the knight commander of the Blades does have the authority to issue that arrest and it would be the duty of an uninvolved judge to rule, that the witness, this arrest is based on, is false, not yours, Garcias."

Walther concluded, that now was the best situation for Domnall to get elected, as long as possibly undecided Lords would not know whether Garcias was in fact guilty or not and whether Belrond would or would not use his power as Regent to appoint a 'favorable' judge in the upcoming trials of Garcias and Edward, so he added: "But I shall be quite again, I do not want this to delay our election of a Regent any longer then necessary, as I'm sure, many here feel."

Garcias had been preparing for this one'' Where was my faith in the judicial process when I was arrested? It was untouched. I had complete faith in the justice of the courts to see through the ridiculous charges brought against me. Where was my faith that the move wasn't actually political, in other words a blatant attempt to remove a chamberlain of the empire from the Caer Aard Gathering though? That was a lot less certain. The timing, the murderous violence and haste of the thing did not reassure me in any way that the arrest was not a deliberate attack on the proceedings of the Caer Aard today. I ha-''

Belrond made a gesture and shut his son up. Looking about, he then turned to Walther and said'' I am very happy that at least one other man wants this business to be post-poned until later. This is the kind of petty squabble that will only result in name-calling in this Gathering of the nobles of Pandyssium. We will have to come to that, and we will put every witness we can into the process, but first, you're right, we must have a regent for our young Emperor Teren.''

Sheathing his Zweihander, he sits back down on his chair and equips himself with the little hammer and shouts'' The matter will be dealt with after the regent is chosen. In the meantime, my lords and ladies, I will leave the debate to the floor. Oh and lord Ranger.... you might want to take a seat.''

[Badafar]

Arasukhat Behatante, the Capital of the Elvish Kingdom of Arasukhat, the Great Wood Spire.
The throne room, King Autharet Khajerata

---

The great kingdom of Arasukhat lay before him, a vast construction made with a combination of the strength of the elvish people and the spirit of the forest, a marvel that's hidden from the eyes of the men beyond the woods, and it was all his. King Autharet sat upon his tall throne of woven branches and sticks in a perfect pose, his great silk and velvet robes flowing down to his bare feet with strikes of gold and silver inlays, his piercing amber eyes gazing out into the towering oak trees of the ancient woods of Arasukhat. Large wooden structures strung together with rope bridges stretched about between the trees were illuminated by the flickering orange flames of the lanterns hanging from the nearby branches, these made up the infrastructure of the kingdom as the elves preferred to build up away from the ground, for both defensive and symbolism purposes. Laughter and music filled the air as children danced below to the sound of musicians playing wooden instruments while the adults stood around and watched, laughing and drinking merrily.

The Great Wood tree was the focus of attention, known as 'Kuthata' by the elves, it is known to be the very embodiment of god and life itself, a body for the great spirit of the woods. It was the annual 'Luhajii' festival where the elves of the kingdom celebrated and worshipped their god, believing that the tree is a direct link to the great one himself. Merriment and excitement filled the air as the people sat around or danced to the music, the King couldn't help but smile and let out a laugh as one of his court members, a certain elf infamous for drinking himself to sleep, fell from a bridge overhead and landed in a pile of wicker baskets. Thankfully, however he stumbled up and managed to survive the fall without breaking anything, the King was happy that he didn't wound himself, it would be bad luck to have something like that happen on the day of the Luhajii.

It was time to get going, the festival was drawing to a close and he was expected to do a speech tomorrow and he needed his sleep. The king looked down at his hands and examined the ring on his finger through the eye holes in his mask, it was cut from wood and had exquisitely detailed engraving marked along it with a notch of gold used to present a sharply cut diamond. The ring was made to symbolize his joining with his beloved queen Ninaeldis who he'd become betrothed with for twenty years, she was the love of his life and the bearer of two of his children, Morfinnien and Duiniel. She was currently sleeping, she was tired after a night of celebrating and conversing with the others of the court. The king let out another smile behind his mask and looked back up, looking around his hall. The hall itself was relatively small, the walls made of woven branches that were made to grow in a certain way to form the room, long banners representing the family hang from the walls and wide metal braziers lined the walls, illuminating the hall with a bright orange and yellow light. The end of the room was open to the air, showing the forest and the kingdom that the King now led. The king slowly stood up from his throne and turned to his guards, whistling for their attention.

"Men, I'm heading to my chambers, may you escort me?" the two simply nodded behind their identical grey masks, soon following the King as he left the hall and found his room where they stood outside the door to provide security. The king stepped inside his large chamber room, the ceiling high and draped with long sheets of red and green silk, a large bed sat in the centre occupied by his sleeping queen. The king smiled and began to walk up to the bed when he was interrupted by the door opening. A weak and feeble man walked in clothed in green robes held up by a silver clasp. He hobbled up to the king with the aid of a walking stick crafted from a twisted branch of oak. He was the prophet of the great wood spirit, Hassateye Garët. "What is it?" the King spoke angrily, trying to keep his voice quiet as to not wake his queen. "It is time we called for a meeting for the high council." the man whispered back, turning back to leave the room. The king sighed and took one last look at his wife before following the old man down the winding corridors of the spire until they found the meeting sanctum at the peak of the tree.

The meeting sanctum was small, but large enough, a long wooden table stretched from one end to the other and had small log chairs positioned around the outside. On each chair sat a member of the high council, the governing group which helped make the King make decisions regarding the Kingdom and its matters, usually when a meeting is called, it is because of a problem needing immediate attention. The king found is seat and looked at the men set around the table, his eyes twitching briefly as they try to stay open in the dim light. "So, I believe it is time to make contact with the men beyond the forest, reports suggest that they have established a big enough civilisation and that it would be a good idea to contact them and maybe establish a trade connection." a man at the end of the table suggested, it was the King's brother, Juhar Muyatha. The others around the table seemed to agree and nod in unison before turning to the king, awaiting his words on the matter. "But we don't speak their tongue, how shall we communicate?" the king questioned, still unsure about the whole matter, slightly afraid of what the men would do. "We will do what we've always done, use pictures and diagrams." once again, the others agreed with a few nods and hums of approval. Slightly frustrated and hesitant, the king let out one big sigh and leant back in his chair, making a brief nod. "Fine, send a few elves with armed escorts to the west. Make sure to bring the best swordsmen we have to keep them safe. Now go, I'm heading to sleep" "I'll get onto it, brother." Juhar said with excitement, ready to prove to his brother that he was capable of decision making. "Don't mess this up." the King remarked before stepping out into the corridor. "I won't. Believe me, brother."

The morning of the next day was quiet, many of the elves remained in bed after the night of celebration and by midday the Elves were dispatched from the kingdom to the west with an escort of 300 spear men of the elite cavalry units, and within a few days they left the forest, the first elves to do such since the very first settlers immigrated there. The diplomatic mission was led by Ephelben, a male elf of the high council, young and charismatic and ready to prove his worth to the elders. They first set up a camp on the edge of the forest during the night, they were tired from the days of travel and needed a place to settle before they continue their journey into the uncharted realms of man. The camp was quickly constructed and consisted of a few big tents surrounding a bonfire, the night was amazingly clear and filled with flickering stars, the elves, having lived under the shade of the forest all their lives were amazed at the sky above them and the rolling plains around them, they felt privileged with the responsibility they were given, to be the first of their generation to explore beyond the borders. Ephelben leant back on the knoll and chuckled as he lay on the grass while he ate from his food pack, a mixture of herbs and vegetables wrapped in leaves, a typical meal for the Elvish people of the ancient forest. Talking with the humans was going to be hard, but hopefully each race would come to an understanding, maybe there would even be other elves they could talk to. Ephelben was tired and the heat of the fire wasn't keeping him awake enough so he stood up and headed into his tent, it was going to be a long couple of weeks he thought to himself as he slowly drifted away to sleep.

By the following morning, the camp was packed up and they set back off onto their journey to make a diplomatic connection between the kingdoms of the west and the empire they represented and the elves of the east. The ride to the nearest point of civilisation was relatively short, with only a few weeks to get to the village from the edge of the forest. The trip had only been done a few times in history, mostly for a few spouts of failed communication and trading, however this time they intended to stay longer. The village had been scouted out a day before they arrived by a few forward messengers sent ahead while they dragged the caravan onwards. It was early evening when they found themselves at the settlement, the short stubby wooden and stone shacks were scattered loosely without much planning or organization, most of the land in between was either worked farmland or dirt and gravel paths. Towering tendrils of charcoal black smoke drifted up into the clouds from the brick chimneys from the buildings, and livestock wandered about in their picket fence pens.The layout of the settlement was positioned carefully by a long winding river connecting from the hills to the south and a big freshwater lake that provided water for farming and drinking, a light forest surrounded the farmland which allowed for some privacy from raiding parties or general nuisances. Standing around the cabbage fields were a small gathering of burly, grizzled farmers dressed in cloth tunics and tool belts, just about to finish their hard days work in the field, the men turned from their conversations and noticed the band of elves approach them. An odd sight, but not rare enough to startle the men due to the previous encounters they'd had. A few groans were muttered as they hobbled over to the caravan with farming tools held tightly in their hands.

"Wha' do y'want? for the last bloody time, we don't understand you!" one of them said, a tall man in a set of workers overalls stained with mud and dirt. The leader of the elvish group, Ephelben, nodded and withdrew a very old, tattered sheet of parchment written in the tongue of men, it was an old map drawn up by the original settlers of the lands to the west. It had very little markings of civilisations due to how old it was, most of it being outdated. Ephelben held the map up to the human and began to gesture his hands around the western coast. "Eh? that? Imperial heartlands, that what yer' lookin' for? hate that place personally, politics hurt my head and its full of pompous shits." Ephelben came to the conclusion that the place was recognizable and held some importance. He thanked the man with a few trinkets from a wooden lock box, resulting in a few groans from the men. "Th'fuck am I meant to do with this?" one of them muttered, whether the elves knew the farmers couldn't care less for jewellery they didn't seem to mind, carrying on past them through the forests at the end of the farm fields. Within the day they found their way out and landed themselves along the eastern border of the Esterlands.

[Ghondra]

-SNIP-

-SNIP-

The Lord Ranger frowned, he didn't like being ordered around, especially not by a glorified ass-wiper like the Tellegaras, nonetheless, he indignantly took his seat between the lords of Gunrado and Roken, "I hope we won't have to prolong this droll meeting anymore milords, there are other matters to be discussed" Edmond said dismissively, then he glanced at the Tellegara Patrician, they exchanged a look that expressed a deep rivalry between the two men, and it ended just as fast as it has started. He then turned to Domnall, nodding his head, the Lord Ranger was not a man who easily forgets his enemies, the potential regents in the figures of Domnall Eriadunn and Belrond Tellegara wasn't pleasant for him, and no lords in the North cared much for the Empire.

Despite being resentful of the Westerlanders, for them lording it over the Esterlands, calling them savages while they sat in their Ivory towers and great castles, it was clear who, for the lords of the Esterlands, who the lesser evil was.

Yes, he would vote for Domnall Eriadunn.

(OOC: Edmond's decision to vote for Domnall to be regent is driven primarily by petty resentment of the other Pandyssian peoples instead of any calculations on his parts, with his son arrested he has found a new hate for the Tellegaras of Deon. I hope you have long spears Annihilator )

[Paketo]

Maria had remained quiet as she listened to the others banter back and forth and pettier issues. She mulled over in her mind whether voting for Belrond really was the right choice. "the man is a evil kniving slippery snake really back can I not vote for him as the benefits to Grecia would be stupendous. Are those things they have promised worth putting that man behind the throne though? He is only a few plots from being able to say he is the legitimate ruler of the empire and i would never want to be under him" thought Maria to herself. As the fighting between Ranger and Tellegara died down, Maria came to the conclusion on who she would cast her vote. "Belrond, Grecia supports Belrond for regent" spoke Maria quietly but loud enough to be heard. He face showed obvious conflict as she spoke the words but the pros outweighed the cons currently.

Grey stood behind Maria unsurprised by her words. He knew she loved her realm more than anything and this was a chance to improve the lives of her people. She would have to hope Belrond wouldn't do much harm in the 10 years before the young king would take his throne.

[The mages]

Grieve awoken inside a cart being dragged alongside the soldier's of house caius with Grieve hidden beneath a small goods tarp, he'd been through worse like the corpse carts. Grieve was beginning his deep and intricate plotting to take over this land, and he would do it all with poisons and knives, his favourite way. Grieve couldnt beleive how gullible the fool was and Grieve ALWAYS took an opportunistic advantage, no way to stop him now he would use whatever was at his disposal to bring this house to power and then have the world watch as he is knelt too rather than the lords he served.

Grieve beleived he would be a vital cog in the machine that is this house, and he would have to get the gears turning if he wanted his own conquest for power fufilled. Now would begin Grieve's grab for power.

[Sil Arion]

Caer Aard, the Heartlands
Ard Rí na Éireann Taioseach Nessa mac Nuada Alasdair Fearfiach

Midday, second day of the Caer Aard Gathering

Alasdair remained silent, still. Stoically he watched the gathered lords and ladies and their kith and kin fall into disarray and argument so swiftly. How different they are from us, these lowlanders. At least among his own people disagreements there may have been between him and the Death Watch, between his wives, the clan leaders and others, but rarely if ever did one lose hope that a compromise could be made. That a way that benefitted all could not be bridged. His own people cooperated well.

His son look unamused at the lack of cooperation here. It is indeed his first time watching the politics of many lowland lords and ladies at work. He remembered his own feelings of disappointment. But to each their own in the way they do things. His son would understand that in time, as he had.

Yet, are these not the strongest and most cunning of leaders in this land gathered here too? Certainly they were capable of understanding each other and compromising given what was coming. And what was already upon them all! Some would see reason, though heads be butted against each other and horns locked now. The debacle with House Ranger, father and son, and the Blades, and speech of the slippery Garcias bode ill on present proceedings. Accusations abounded. And a duel announced. Another stood, Otto Lichtenburg, and man whom he remembered some from mercenary dealings seven years ago. The dark-haired man looked at him, and he met his gaze. He heard the hint, and acknowledged it with a nod. And a wink. He had something he should share – had to – with everyone gathered once he had listened to the others speak first. Then Elano rose, and spoke. Ah. He understood her beliefs. Agreed with them some, for they were reasonable, but was she giving up already without the first hour having passed by? Hm. Perhaps not though. She was wise, in the way of a cunning serpent. He couldn’t afford misjudgment here. The Fianna and the Gunradoans had never been close in relations, but they had done business over many years. The even split in votes was somewhat worrisome though. But Saerondr would surely hear his heart in his words and understand why. And hopefully trust him. He cared for his friend and the elven people, for they related well and respected one another, even if they hadn’t spoke in so long. He glanced over Saerondr, who met his gaze swiftly as he watched the proceedings. Unsaid words passed. Trust me, old friend, for what I will say soon enough. No matter the sway of votes, he’d do what was best for his people – but he would never forget friends like Saerondr and his kin. I have to ensure -

Then Belrond’s voice boomed in through the chamber over his slippery son’s, and Alasdair looked to Tellegara’s table. Well, at least one seems to have a handle on things. Indeed, as he gazed at Belrond as he restored order to the gathered, the choice seemed clearer. As many men, Alasdair knew himself well, and as a leader, he knew too his kith and kin well, their wants and needs. And he knew Belrond well. Much more so than Domnall. And everyone else likely knew him nearly as well as he! Well, perhaps not quite so. Regardless. Belrond was an honorable and honest man, strong but not overly so, straightforward and aware of his own faults and weaknesses too. A fairly average man, neither excelling nor failing utterly, but competent. Above all though, he was a man willing to listen to others, even if he didn’t quite agree, and could compromise. Someone such as that would serve well as regent in these troubling times.

As the Belrond continued speaking, Alasdair turned inward again. He was never much one to strategize in the realm of courts and – politics. It was not a warrior’s place, nor his people’s way. But I am not blind to this opportunity granted me, O’ Mother of the Earth. Thank you. Yes. His was the last group to arrive. Late. And unknown. A silken shred thrown to the wind, and only the faintest of hints as to its chosen path. The Wild Card in a game of plaques.

And he did have news that needed to be shared, as he lost himself in thought again, arms propped up on the table, chin atop his folded fists. His eyes closed. Dark news borne on the dark wings of his kin from across the Western Sea, but news sorely needed in this equally dark hour. News of Augrilac. And the armies that Emperor was raising; the storing of supplies near the harbors, the fitting of warships and massive orders of arms in the past month and musters of men. Yet that letter had only just arrived hours ago, after many weeks at sea. The implication was clear to him. Pandyssium has less time now than I wished. But who else would know lest he shared?

Now is the time to speak. Eyes opened.

Alasdair rose from his wooden seat, towering over the others debating whatever they were, and faces turned to him. Eight foot in height and broad at the shoulders is quite intimidating. He smiled warmly, as much in good humor as show his mood to those lords and ladies who now fell silent. And indeed, he had not yet spoken to any assembled here since arriving last night. His black armor shone dully in the light beneath his grey cloak, and his fiery hair swayed with the motion, the glass beads in his unbound braids clinking against each other and their music drove him forward. They would listen, for he had their attention.

From within the folds of his cloak he procured a package. Letter. He unfolded it, holding the papers up high, and he handed passed them around. Let them too read it for themselves and see. Then his lips parted, and his deep and resounding voice broke the tide of murmurs in the room.

“Lords and ladies, we all speak of troubling times coming. I would say they are upon us already. And Augrilac is no longer merely watching. Just this morning I received several letters from my kin across the sea in that land, sent weeks ago in the days after the news of Orius’ death reached Sealanding. Each points to Augrilac readying itself for war. Read them yourselves, but I will summarize. Already, their army gathers at their capital. Over two hundred thousand within the first three weeks – an estimated third alone of their entire muster. If not less. Massive orders of arms are being completed, and immense stockpiles of supplies, foodstuffs and fodder stored near the harbor. Their women weave garments and rope, and their lords are seen spent long hours in the palace, planning, sending and receiving messengers and their reports. In those three weeks, my men counted more than four hundred transports in the harbor, tall, great-bellied galleons, and over four score warships, heavy two-masted ramming galleys the lot of them. At least forty smaller ships with crews of a hundred men were seen leaving the harbor on the day this message was sent. Scouts and raiders, sent to put us in disarray and disrupt commerce, and who will be arrive today or tomorrow. Or already have.” Augrilac could have only one logical target of such an invasion. And long had they coveted the lands and resources found in Pandyssium; the fertile fields for farms and livestock, the mountains of mines of iron and precious metals, vast forests of quality lumber, the women and children for slaves. He looked to Ellyn Tarembor and caught her eyes, nodding. She likely already knew, had an idea herself, or would have soon enough; others too. He turned back.

“A realm is in rebellion, an empire across the sea now our enemy. We face foes from within, and from without, and we will have wars both ways regardless. We all know this.” His eyes swept across the room, returning the intent gazes of those gathered.

“We are at war already against the Silver Cities, and we will be at war again with Augrilac come midsummer at latest. That is but weeks away. A few among you may already know, but my men are already mustered, my army and navy standing at nearly full strength now. The Fianna Fáil are ever eager and ready for war, but even we will not be enough to stem this tide. Not alone. For those that remember, I will speak this. The War of Empires four centuries ago, when Augrilac attacked Pandyssium with half a million men and more! Our stories sing of those momentous and all too terrible times in each and every realm. Great and glorious, but so filled with sorrow and sadness of lost loved ones. But in that one moment we stood united, for the first time in the memories of mortals, of any race! For surely we all would have fallen had each of us stood divided as we do now.” As he looked deeply into the eyes of those around him, observing. Some appeared to agree, others seemed yet skeptical, cynical of possibilities in the present circumstance. He could not blame them. Too often things too good were untrue and turned so swiftly to uttermost bad. But not in this case. I have hope.

And he would show them this hope – his family’s heart of fire.

“I will be honest with you all. Transparent, even. Many know the Fianna Fáil. We are a proud people, violent and vicious, heads held high and backs unbowed, arrogant and aloof to those not of our own blood, and without a doubt a little less than pleased with the present state of the Empire. And perhaps wishing for independence once. The Empire has indeed fallen far since Rahtis, and Orius was more an exception than the rule in recent years. Change is needed, yes, but so too is stability, and much more so. Unity. I agree with what is spoken. I might remind some that the Fianna Fáil are not so stupid, savage as we seem. And I can only hope I am not alone in seeing this world with open eyes! Because none will survive the coming storm unless we stand together! Not even my people will. The Empire is needed more than ever, and if our children are to inherit our homes, our legacies, we will need every spear and shield, every bow and blade, every arm and every man to stand together.”

His lips took on a sardonic smile, his voice cynical, “Yes. Perhaps it is dramatic. Naïve, to think so simply. And what I say next all too obvious to some. But it still needs saying. Because it is right.”

“I would ask each of you to think on this. And perhaps.” His voice softened slightly, more slowly, and he let a little heartfelt sympathy fly from his lips. For he had hope still. His smile softened too as seen through his braided red beard, gold glinting in the rays of sunlight from the windows on high, finally cutting through the overcast skies of this bitter morning. “Perhaps realize we are not so different. Yes, most certainly, we disagree.” Alasdair turned his gaze, meeting the eyes of Lady Elano. “Elano, you speak truly. We argue, we scheme and squabble. We anger, we hate, and know sorrow. But we also learn, we laugh, we love; we all feel. I am not the best to speak on this, nor the most learned nor understanding nor elegant. I am just a warrior.” His hand waved across his chest as he turned his eyes down, bringing the assembled lords and ladies and their retainers’ attention to his armor, the twin blades at his side, the bow and arrows at his back. Then he lifted his gaze again, sweeping over the assembly. “But I would like to think I have learned perhaps just a little from the paths I followed in walking this world. That I am not so different from you. And you, and you and you. You, and you. All of you.” With each, he pointed to another lord, another lady, circling around the room. Then he lifted his arms wide, encompassing all the people in one gesture. “All of us. We are all unique, a diverse assembly of different cultures and traditions, ideas. But I hope I can safely say we all wish to live, and I only see one way to do that. Stand united.” He nodded once to Belrond, then to Domnall.

“To this end, I vote for Belrond to be Regent for the child.” As he spoke, a pause fell on the pressing murmurs of the audience, and he saw equal numbers of surprised and elated faces amongst those gathered. For some, he saw widespread smiles. On others no more than a twitch of the lips. But his words seemed a shock. He saw Otto, and Elano, appeared approving, and Belrond himself too sat proudly and nodded to him, his face no longer so grim. Others seemed quiescent now, thrown into disarray, wondering. Domnall himself met his eyes, and Alasdair nodded respectfully in his direction. He caught Saerondr’s gaze again, who looked questioning as many others. He lifted an arm in Belrond’s direction and held it aloft as he spoke again. Time to explain his cause.

“He has promised us both reforms and stability too in this time, and I trust him to these. And I will hold him to these. Just as all of you will. Belrond has ever been honest and honorable and realistic. And if I may, he is a man aware of his mortality too. Able to compromise as he has in this Gathering of Caer Aard despite disagreements and listen to others’ opinions, as Otto spoke.” He nodded to the burgher. “He will listen to us. And he will see to it that Teren is raised to become a great and glorious Emperor. One worthy of his sire’s legacy, the bloodline of Rahtis. An Emperor I can serve loyally as my grandest-sire served Titus himself. I would see that again. For House Rahtis to keep its oath of worthiness as our lords in return for our oath of vassalage.” Aye. He wished for it. Oathbreaking would dishonor his kith and kin for time unending. Independence he and his people might dream of, but at the expense of an oath? And at the price of survival too in the coming storm? No. He would not have it. Never. He breathed out, a calming sensation spreading through him as he spoke again. He felt serene as he spoke again, “Regardless of the vote’s outcome, I believe both aspiring regents can and will work together in uniting and defending the realm from threats within and without, as they have already done as their duties for years. Their expertise and leadership are both needed, and in the places they serve already. And I would say let Domnall continue in his place as Lord Provost Marshal, for it suits him well as a warrior and strategist and he would continue as an adviser and teacher to our young Emperor, and in those capacities to all of us. Let Belrond then be Regent; he is most experienced, and is an apt administrator and mediator among us and willing to listen, as he has demonstrated.” He chuckled a bit at that, and smiled warmly in good humor. Things had not proceeded peacefully, and the debacle hadn’t been contained perfectly by Belrond, but he had done well enough for a mortal man. And a lowlander at that. “But I have spoken too long, and have little else to say. Please, proceed.”

With that, he returned to his seat. And in his wake, silence.

[Edit: Fixed Domnall's title. Sorry about the mistake!]

[Ghondra]

Arstan
Eastern Wildlands

Arstan hated his line of work, poaching was dangerous work, especially with Edmond Ranger as the Lord, he still remembered his childhood when he and his father freely hunted all the animals in any of the lands they wanted, the late Lord Altis Ranger was the opposite of his son, weak willed and unfit to rule, but now, almost 40 years after his death, Arstan was forced to poach in the wildlands, but facing the roaming bands of barbarian horselords and being trampled by never ending herds of bisons was nothing compared to being executed by the hands of the Esterlander Lords, his father should know that personally.

Of course in such a dangerous line of work Arstan was not alone, he was accompanied by a small band of 10 men from the village, they were farmers, shopkeepers and more reputable hunters and the only reason why they were here in the Wildlands was desperation, without the Rangers to rein him in their liege lord, Peter Kars was able to do anything he wants with them, he even enforced first night almost a dozen times now, a law abolished by the Lord Ranger himself.

Now they were approaching a forest, a rare sight in the Wildlands where only tall grasses and never ending plains rule, perfect for grazing, less so for hunting. Arstan drew an arrow from its quiver, raising the bow ever so slightly, and the other men followed his example, he wasn't going to take any chances, their mothers talk of terrifying beasts that hid in the forests of the Wildlands, now Arstan wasn't a superstitious man but far be it from him to doubt his own mother.

The green and dark yellow rags that they wore blended in the shade, hiding them from view for at least 20 yards or so, if there was beasts lurking in the shadows, it was best if they have the element of surprise.

They walked for what seemed like ages, but as they delved deeper into the heart of the forest they discovered ever taller trees, each more beautiful and elegant than the last, they attempted to chopped the trees down of course, they were still poachers, but no amount of chopping worked, the tree trunks were as hard as any steel Arstan has ever seen. And so they continued their journey, and finally after what seemed like an epoch they encountered a town, a town built on trees.

Arstan and the other poachers admired the beautiful architecture of the houses, the carvings on the walls on the houses and on the trees, carvings that appears to be telling a story. But then Arstan remembered his family, his beautiful wife Agatha, with flowing hair as dark as ebony and their children, Cristopher and Margarete, they would not survive the coming winter without food, then a thought occur to him, no human could possibly make such intricate buildings as the tree town before him, perhaps there was a non-human species living here, and perhaps they were naive, and perhaps even useful.

Slavery was an evil thing he knew that, not to mention illegal, and in the Esterlands it was either beheading or being trampled to death, but then his thoughts went back to his family, they would never survive the coming winter, and with war on the horizon, winter would be the last of their worries.

"Find them" Arstan said with renewed resolve, "and take them"

[Badafar]

-snip-

The Village of Tikha'tukt
Edge of the great forest, border to the Eastern Wildlands

The day of the people of the village of Tikha'tukt started as usual, the air was still with only a gentle breeze which blew through the morning, the green grass underfoot was still damp with dew and shafts of light broke up from through the gaps in the branches far above. There was little wildlife in the area, most of the deer were grazing to the east in the clearing by the great lake, however packs of rabbits were frequently common in the area, hopping about the mounds of dirt and vegetation between the trees while they shook their fluffy white tails. Birds of varying shape, size and colour hung on trees and in their nests while they sang and chirped beautiful tones to the elves of the village, birds, like all animals of the forest were protected and loved by its elvish inhabitants, all life was precious and sacred to them.

The elder of the village was Elrohir Súrion, a short elderly man who spent most of his days in his disc-shaped hut of wood that was constructed around the largest tree in the area, like all buildings in the kingdom, it was suspended from the ground and secured to the tree, with the only way up being a spiral staircase. Tall pale candles lined the walls of the hut, providing a soft white glow by the flickering flames. The interior was simple and modest, many elves opted for a grandiose home, full of intricately woven artworks and beautifully made furniture. But the elder had no need for that, the main room was empty but a few chairs around a table and a tall house banner of the royal family, and his bedroom was anything but amazing.

The elder rested on his chair, gazing out at the village through the window when his grandson entered the room. "Grandfather, we believe that a small party of men are approaching the village. They don't seem overtly hostile, shall we put the guards on alert?" the old man shook his head and stood up from his chair to face his grandson who bore striking resemblance to his father, his shoulder length golden hair and his amber eyes with flecks of gold. "No need.. the men we've met so far haven't been very dangerous, I doubt they'll attack us." he spoke back in his characteristic, soft but gruff voice.

The younger man nodded and left the room to make his way back to his home on the southwestern part of the village, the walk was generally interrupted with him only having to stop to greet a few of his friends and companions along the way. That was until he met the local idiot, a middle aged man who everyone assumed was born just to annoy the living shit out of everyone. "Angolben!" he yelled out across the other side of the bridge. "Wher' ah my b-" were the only words he could muster before he forgot that there wasn't actually a bridge, and subsequently fell and tripped his way down to the ground below. The young elf couldn't help but feel sorry for the man, but decided he better hurry home before anyone notices.

He was only a few meters away from his front door when the men of the west arrived, the elves of the village were completely oblivious as to what was to happen and only a few turned their heads towards the party of poachers. The young elf watched the first arrow being drawn and quickly went to unsheathe his sword, however he was already too late. The arrow flew towards him at a speed he was unable to dodge, the metal head of the arrow slipped past a gap in his leather armour and buried itself in his heart, he tried to yell out but only a rough cough could be emitted as he began to fall forward. His senses dulled and his vision slipped into darkness as he fell from the ledge, he was unable to hear the screams of his family and friends as he plummeted to his death. By the time he hit the bottom, the shocked elves of the village began to run for safety.

The sudden attack left them in shock, the guards would try to fight off the poachers but only a few members were there, with the rest of the guards being sent with the diplomatic mission to the west. They quickly fell, one by one to the men. Once the guards were gone and dead, the rest were easy pickings. The men tried to resist, but most were sleeping or too old, the women and children surrendered the quickest to avoid any more conflict. Within the hour, the village was in the hands of the poachers, with all resistance crushed. Only a few people managed to escape, them being a few teenagers who were away from the village at the time.

[Mesrane]

Caer Aard

Domnall frowned or nodded at various points in Alasdair's speech. The Highlander was surprisingly eloquent in his speaking, something the Provost Marshal took slight pleasure in. The man was by turns utterly right, equally wrong, or dancing around the heart of the matter. While disappointed that Alasdair voted for Belrond, the Fianna Faíl Lord seemed to possess a good deal of sense.

He decided he'd rather not respond. Such a speech was meant for reflection, not response. Such reports of the Augrilac threat couldn't really be verified to be accurate or not, but the point remained that when they did come, if they were actually coming, unity was important. Domnall supposed the real dividing point this day was not on which regent to choose; but rather on which was more immediately divisive to the empire's unity: immediate reform or the status quo. Domnall firmly believed that the status quo was a great deal more harmful than change, but it was out of his hands now. He glanced at his cousin Owain, legitimized bastard grandson of Erlend, who was urgently whispering to Ser Seamus Finnigan, Ser Ailpein Dùghall, and Ser Conall Argall. The three Eriadunn knights exchanged deeply concerned looks before strolling casually out of one of the pavilion's two side entrances. Each man had been asked by Erlend to come in plain garments of wool after the riots of the previous night, as "a token of peace." Domnall wondered what that was about.

His gaze shifted to House Coeptus. So did that of many present, as it slowly dawned on the assembly that these new comers would decide the regency. New comers to their title as well, having won the Lordship of Mereldar from now virtually extinct House Nelkadian through rebellion. Being so new, no one really had a grasp on their tendencies or their predilections, which made the tension in the pavilion all the more gripping . . . and terrifying.

Caer Aard Prison

An extra dozen men of the city watch had been assigned to the prison after the previous day's breakout, but because of the riots in the night, the prison guard was just about at regular strength.

A watchman with elegantly waxed mustachios was on duty at the prison's gate. He glanced up from his half-asleep state at the three strangers who were apparently of a mind to bother him. They strode confidently down the street, waving the few passersby off the street until it was soon abandoned. Two of them were dressed in plain garments but carried themselves in a rather lordly manner. The third, also the oldest judging by his worn face, wore a loose cloak about his clothes, the hood drawen up tight over his head. His face was just barely visible in the blackness of the hood, even in the morning light. All three were armed at the waist with a longsword and dirk. None bore any sort of heraldic device or sigil.

The watchman spat into the stones of the street as they reached him, arranging themselves in a neat line. "Eh? Bugger off if ya don't have 'nothin to say. Com'n! Off with ya!" He waved them away, to no avail.

Oblivious, he made to shove the older hooded one in the center, but not quickly enough. A grey flash whipped through his peripheral vision and the next instant, his right hand was a bloody stump. He hardly had time to register the pain before a second blade whipped his head off.

The three knights rapidly pulled the corpse and head away from the gate and thus from view of the rest of the prison. As they entered the gate, one of the tower guardsmen descended the stairs to the courtyard, suspicious.

Ser Dughall draped his arm around the guard like an old friend and began making small talk as the trio entered the main building.

"Excuse me sir, might you direct me to a Ser Edward Ranger, of the Blades?" Seamus Finnigan inquired to the gaoler.

The heavyset man stared with intense curiosity at Dughall, who still had his arm wrapped around the guard in a seemingly friendly but iron-hard grip. The guard in question looked greatly bewildered at the sudden barrage of small talk and tried to struggle free.

Blinking, the gaoler returned his gaze to Finnigan. "Eh, what? On who's authority? Might you have some papers for me?"

Finnigan tried his best to looked like a constantly ignored imperial courtier, someone who would leap at a chance to make a name for themselves. "Why, that of the Emperor Teren of course. Did you honestly expect tha-."

"Papers please." The gaoler was adamant.

Finnigan sighed. "Conall. Ailpein."

The cloaked knight broke the guard's neck with a sickening twist, whilst the younger knight stepped forward and jabbed his dirk into the gaoler's thigh, smacking him silly to keep him from screaming. "What cell do you keep Edward Ranger in?"

"Dammit! Aw, fuck! Gerr, they don't tell me noth-AAargh!" He howled as Ser Connall pulled the dagger farther down the thigh. The knight repeated himself calmly. "Where do you keep Edward Ranger?"

The gaoler was practically sobbing as blood continually poured from the wound. "C-cell 147, passage on my right." he whimpered.

"Thank you." Connall removed the dagger and slit the gaoler's throat.

The trio of knights entered the dim, low passageway, dragging the two bodies with them. The first few cells were vacant, so Seamus flung open the door to one and gestured for the bodies to be tossed in. He removed the keys from the gaoler's belt after the corpse smacked into the floor like a sack of rotten apples. He grasped the keys tightly in his fist so as to keep them from ringing.

As the three knights made their way down the hallway, several guards gave them suspicious stares. If the gate guard and the gaoler had let them in, why wasn't the gaoler with them? Yet no one tried to stop them. The lack of light did much to hide the ghastly streak of blood across Conall's shirt. A few desperate hands, complete with a full five fingers or otherwise, thrust out at the knights as they walked by; but these usually ended up broken.

144. 145. 146 . . . 147, here we are. Seamus rummaged through the keys to find the correct one. Reading the labels was difficult in the near-darkness. Finally coming across the thick silver key labeled 147, he thrust it into the lock and turned. The old rusty door creaked open.

"Ser Edward? Edward Ranger? Are you alright?"

A silhouetted figure could only just be made out with the naked eye in the darkness of the cell. "Why, not terribly well at the moment. Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"Friends," hissed Seamus. "Here to break you out. Come now, follow us!"

[Badafar]

Eastern Esterlands, Elvish diplomatic party

The party of elves had arrived at the land known as the Esterlands, it was about noon when they finally found themselves within the borders. The geography of the realm was relativity flat, consisting most of plains and hills with a few scattered forests. The group slowed to a halt was they decided it was time to rest and bunker up for the night, as they had been travelling for quite some time now. The four horse-pulled carts that carried the groups supplies were used as makeshift walls and canvas was used to provide some basic shelter for the elves underneath, they lit a small fire and waited through the night.

It was a cold night, a hard breeze blew through the air and the elves had trouble sleeping on the grass below, having being used to living up in the trees either on hammocks or in the homes they had built. It was also uneventful, the only life around here were nomadic rabbits and the birds that travelled the plains, looking for a place to settle down from predators or poachers. Soon, the morning was upon them. Within a few hours of waking up and having a quick breakfast of fruit, the elves took the camp down and got back on the road.

Due to the flat nature of the land around the Esterlands, travel was quick and easy for the elves which gave them the hope that they'd manage to find civilisation before they died out in the wilds. Ephelben took a long look around at the scenery that was before him and took a big breath, he wouldn't admit it but Ephelben was almost scared at the prospect of these new lands, and couldn't help but shiver at what beasts lay in the realm. He turned his gaze back to the others in his group, it consisted mostly of guards however his sister rode with him. Unlike the males of the Arasukhat elves, females wore no mask. His sister was known to the folk as Princess Eryndes, and like him was a child to the great king. Ephelben tightened his grip on the reins of the horse and look around him once more, he was unsure of these human folk and was prepared to kill if it meant protecting his sister.

Later that day, a few forward scouts met back up with the party and hailed for them to stop. The leader of the scouts drove the horse forward and rose his right hand as he spoke up to Ephelben. "My highness, we've discovered a group of men of the realm not too far west of here. They look associated to an army, so they must be important enough for us to establish diplomacy through." sighs of relief fell through the party, they had been without contact for a while now and they were desperate. "Great work, let's get onwards before we lose them." the rest nodded firmly and they marched their horses faster through the plains in the direction of the men.

From the rise of the sun, the elves spotted the encampment the men had set up during the night. A thin trail of grey smoke trickled off into the sky from the charred fire they were using, a few tents were pegged up around the fire and a group of horses were grazing off to the side of the tents, tended by a man in chain and leather. The camp was placed with strategy in mind, the tents were positioned behind the cover of several hills which kept them from sight, a few guards were stationed to signal to the men if needed. Ephelben watched the men of the camp for about an hour before signalling for the others to follow him over the knoll and over to the camp.

The horses with riders came first, with the supply carts pulled not far behind. The elves rode up towards the camp with their spears pointing to the sky to signify no hostility. Then, a rider blew a horn to draw the attention to the group of elves. The loud notes rolling through the plains, Ephelben hopped off from his horse and approached the confused men. Fortunately, they knew a few words of the common tongue from the farmers who lived on the edge of their forest. With some bad pronunciations and a very strange accent, he spoke to who seemed to be the man in charge of the cavalry party. "Greeting.. -WE-.. are Diplomacy. Imperial Heartlands, from forest to East." hoping they'd understand, Ephelben stood back and smiled.

[Kaledoria]

Otto Lichtenburg, of Röken

"Since when does Augrilac have Galleons?" Otto Lichtenburg asked with a good deal of shock in his voice. It was slightly to loud to be private, slightly to quite to be an official question. He had thought, the warships of his Republic, the 12 Great, were unmatched on the wide ocean. And now, the Faery said, that out of all nations the backward Augrilacs had copied the design and managed to construct them, too? Weren't Augrilacs supposed to have only galleys and longships: Good in shallow waters but ultimately to small and to light to be a real threat? He had been in the Empire across the sea and they did have big wharfs but he had never believed, they had such skills in shipbuilding.

[The Starlight]

-snip-

Caer Aard
Saerondr Tarembor, Lord of Vallorion
Saerondr looked on as his old friend spoke. Alasdair was a warrior at heart, and had the best intentions at heart. Saerondr was miffed, well, more than miffed with Alasdair agreeing with the lady of Gunrado, she who had laughed at him. He stopped those thoughts before the rant that had been churning in ever since the insult, suppressing his desire to declare war right there, and right then, and squash Gunrado's pitiful little army. But no, he would keep himself in check, but he would not forget this insult.

But one thing, Alasdair did not know, or disregarded, was the injustices done to the elves, ever since his ancestors had been forced to kneel before Titus Rahtis. The Faeries were feared, but the Elves were coveted, scorned, insulted and humiliated. Saerondr Tarembor would see the countless elven maidens, forced to work as slaves and endure the most terrible injustice of all, their purity being taken away from them, he would see them avenged. Reform would come while he was alive, or he would raise the banners of the elves and rise up against those who made slaves of his brothers, those who took the daughters of his friends, those, who abused the elves. But for the sake of his friend, Alasdair, if Belrond was elected, he would wait, but not too long. He trusted his old companions judgement and gave him a slight nod. What will be, will be.

But it was time to turn his attention to Augrilac and the Silver Cities, the latter of which would assuredly attack his elven realm.

---

Belrond spoke up. "And while we are waiting for the votes from the House of Wolfson and that of Coeptus, I believe our Lady Mistress of Shadows has some things to say.

Ellyn Tarembor, Lady Mistress of Shadows
Ellyn Tarembor arose, and walked to the stone table, laying out a map, and several other papers. "Since the death of Orius Rahtis, I have kept Augrilac in mind, and now, they will attack. To answer your question, my lord of Röken, a year ago, spies of Augrilac infiltrated your realm. The spies of that Empire have always been good at slipping past our patrols, and while I made it a priority ever since my predecessor died to attempt and stop this, but several have slipped by. Anyway, they succeeded in gaining access to your warships, or at least part of them, and proceeded to the west coasts. Hearing of this from several of my agents, I was unable to pursue them directly, but sent my agents after them. However, they lost their trail in the dead of night, and while the agents caught up to them while they were setting sail in a small boat, the blueprints drawn up were only damaged by the agents, not destroyed. However, they tell me that they marred a reasonable deal of the documents, so their warships will not be superior to yours.

But the lord of the Fianna Fail speaks truly, I too have heard of their coming. Precious few operatives of mine have been able to infiltrate Augrilac, but I will debrief the lords and ladies of Pandyssium on all that I know. Their Empire is culturally diverse. In the north is perhaps their greatest threat, the Bloodwarriors. These warriors were born in the icy mountains of their north and have been trained for all their lives as warriors. They possess the trait of berserking. By drinking a strong bottle of mead, they turn into fearsome warriors, able to keep fighting despite several wounds. While in this bersek state, they also have bloodlust, and will attempt to kill any in their way. The best way to deal with them, is apparently long distance, firing fire arrow after fire arrow into their bodies seems to do the trick. If forced into melee, a spear to the heart or a sword to the head will kill them immediately. Also, if they manage to reach land, it is best to fight them in hot conditions, while the sun is out. The ice and the night is their domain. In the east, lie vast mountains. There human-dwarf hybrids forge the weapons for their armor. They are primarily blacksmiths and refuse to partake in this war, as they hate the sea. But they have forged cunning siege weapons that can be quickly assembled. To the south are extremely hot deserts. There, the Desert Horselords ride. Their forces are mainly comprised of cavalry, and a charge from them is to be feared unless our armies have long enough spears.

The current emperor of Augrilac is Ragnar Bloodhound. He is of the Bloodwarriors, and subdued the many factions of Augrilac to bend knee to him. He dwells at Sealanding, on the coast of the Great Sea. He is said to be a blunt man, preferring to smash a thing over and over again rather than find another way. However, he is not to be underestimated, and has a cunning of his own. For his mages possess the terrible art of bloodbending, an art that is rare, but is incredibly dangerous. But he will not send them here, apparently, for Ragnar sees assassins in ever shadow, and keeps his two pets close to him.

Unrolling the map, Ellyn pointed to the Great Sea. "They are coming, even now. We must hold them at the sea long enough to prepare our ground troops. And so, I propose that our navies be put together, especially the warships of Röken and the dragonships of Lia Fail. The lords and ladies of Eriadha, Grecia and Gunrado also have formidable navies, that should be combined. As many ships need to be sunk, and so the newly invented fire windlasses should be used. The fire windlasses, invented only 6 months prior to today are large crossbows, ballistas if you will, that can fire flaming bolts. I have the engineer under commisson for the Imperial Magistratium and Throne, and they will be able to install the devices upon your ships. Also, there is evidence that the hulls of their ships may not be very strong, and could be broken.

Meanwhile, on land, the vanguard must be set up. The lords and ladies of Pandyssium must march to the west and defend the coast, standing as one army. With the combined strength of our legions, Augrilac will find us a difficult nut to crack. But that will be enough. For all my plans and contingencies, Augrilac still has many warriors to throw at our walls. Their own true weakness is instability. If Ragnar was to fall, they would return back across the Sea immediately, as Augrilac is filled with squabbling factions who desire the throne and title of Emperor. So this is my final plan. When the sea battle begins, I will take a small longship, and with a mage perhaps, some operatives of mine, and perhaps a few of the Faeries, I will infiltrate Sealanding and assassinate Ragnar Bloodhound. It will be distasteful work, for long have I sought to avoid the method of assassination. But it needs to be done, and as Lady Mistress of Shadows it is my duty to secure the safety of Pandyssium. And as for Ragnar's bloodmages," Ellyn grimly smiled, "I have a magic of mine own that is worth reckoning. Any questions?"

[Slakonian]

Nervast, early morning.

The Viscount was watching from his palace the sun ascending into the city. too bad the sun wasn't ascending from the west though due the mountains on the east block the sun until the 0830 which was rather disturbing but it was a good thing as well due there wasn't much heat around. The city was busting with activity in these early hours and it was only logical as Nervast or Umbara as the local humans call it, is the jewel of commerce, arts, fishing, science & learning but also home to more sinister operations. From here illegal slave trade is launched by Sahrnians especially from goblin slaves that are being send to Augrilac in exchange of course for imported magical elements who are a rare still despite heavy imports but it isn't always quantity or quality but about diversity.

The whole city of was being prepared for the feast and festivities to celebrate His Grace fifteen year reign on the to the throne. From butchers to mummers & hirelings had been called up for service to the House of Commons, thousands had lent their expertises and skills to entertain and host the Duke, his lordly guests & vassals. The outer wards had been scattered with gargantuan silk feast tents to house lesser lords and ladies but all that... was a total lie, actually those camps hosted the armies of the Duke who will gather secretly during this event as an excuse.

Viscount while watching the soldier's tents outside his city, he was drinking Gundaro's Red from the Pelenoril Fields.The wine helped numb the unconscious pain on his head & stomach, alongside with the endless stream of delicacies from across the Empire dealt blows to his stomach. He had lost count of how many stuffed aurochs and lamprey pies had been placed in front of him, yet he was sure there had only been a few of many. As Viscount of Nervast, he had dressed appropriately for this morning: he clothed himself in the city's watch armor, the silver leaping lion of his personal sigil to his breast as well as a silver with mixed cyan eagle of the which meant the badge of office pinned to the collar, and wrapped himself in a blue and silver cloak, a humble addition to a fine outfit. He was accustomed to these finery of lords and ladies and this was his best effort at appearing the role. Perin heard footsteps approaching quickly down the hallway as he stood up. The Commander of the Duke's forces; Ismhael zi Vardun an elven baron fiercly loyal to the Duke, his face flushed with the amount of heat he had to endure underneath his chainmail. He bowed again, before looking up at the Viscount. Selman Yarwyck came inside following him, the Castellan of Nervast; this man had halped opening the city's gates during it's siege as he had blood relations with House Threnhold, distant but blood cannot become water and especially when the very Count he served killed his own brother.


"May the Maker smile upon us on this day your Lordship; you required of me and here I am" he bowed low to Perin. He handing over the reports of yesterday's activity from the Arcani; the Imperial secret police - merely spies who were housed on the Order of West Blades

"Are the men ready?" Perin asked, looking over his stacks of paper.

"They are my Viscount." Imshael reported as he stood up straight.

"Very well," Perin looked at the window, outside at the blue sky, patched with a few clouds. "Gather 25 men of my personal guards and we will ride towards the Arcani headquarters, I'm sure they won't expect our arrival, they have become lazy despite Ellyn Tarembor had their heads rolled for incopetence. Castellan, you would attend to the court today and inform the people that I am a bit sick. That is all gentlemen" The two men bowed and left.

Several minutes later, he was standing there near the main gate in his dark armor, his iron axe sheathed at his side. He was accompannied by 25 men & women, veterans of the Sahrnian Army, well-trained, professional and well-equipped soldiers. They were excellent fighters, probably ten times better than anyone lese on the realm. They were heading towards the Arcani headquarters, past fishmongers and bakers, street urchins and highborn ladies, yet no one seemed to be concerned of this big company of men-at-arms, the sun shone blindingly and a cool breeze came from the sea as it was still early morning. Then they heard screaming and smallfolk walking quickly or running while they gone to the opposite direction, fire was blazing and men screamed. It seemed their scheme started, abit too early but no worries were needed. The men did good jobs as the arcani were butchedred and so their legionnares who were protecting them.

"Hey!" A "captain" shouted towards the group as he stomped over to Aser. "A fucking traitor to our cause, jump 'em."

"What?" Perin narrowed his eyes at the Arcani soldier, feeling the heat of anger on his neck. "You brought this upon yourselves, you will answer for your crimes."

"Cross that off your list," The soldier wheeled around before rubbing in his insult. "You whore's bitch!" shouted the man.

What in hells did you just say, you fuck?" Imshael snapped at the soldier, hissing at him with hostility. "You fucking take that back you piece of worthless shit."

As city guardsmen arrived at their side and said his part, an Arcani soldier appeared out of nowhere & spun on one of them to his stomach, while two of the guards following killed him quick enough, two crossbowmen appeared, notching their crossbows with quarrels. Imshael noticed this, motioning back to the retainers about the presence. As soon as Imshael had signalled this, the crossbowmen fired, narrowly missing the group as they reloaded.

"What in the hell of stones and... -!" Imshael shouted while he was cut short, drawing his sword. "Fuck! Protect the Lord!" and sliced the throat of the captain.

The crossbows fired again, this time they had hit a city guardsman as Perin first heard a grunt, then a gurgle before a heavy object hit the ground behind him. Another Arcani officer came again with the strike, preparing to stab him on his back but before Imshael appeared out of nowhere, riding by and smacking the man with the flat side of his sword. Although it was the flat part, the captain's neck took the blade, a red wound resembling a string appearing. A disgusting gurgling sound could be heard after before Perin flung himself up and his flying around into the a legionnare's chainmail torso. Jerking upwards, the warm liquid of blood could be felt as the the two men made eye contact before the light faded from them. Kicking the soldier down, Perin took in account of the surrounding area. Battle was raged between his group and the Arcani guards while their crossbowmen where hitting with their arrows. Then one arrow hit one of the crossbowmen from the other side while the other crossbowman was kicked from the wall and fell with his head. The other crossbowman tried to stop them but a dirk sliced his neck, a bowman who started to fire at their enemies. The bannerman, was dead, collapsed in a heap as two swords were on his chest but the two legionnares where killed by the longbowmen.

The "battle" was over as they had the numeral advantage and better trained force. The Viscount nodded to the men to follow him inside the Arcani HQ, it was a chaos as blood was all over the walls; for everyone one of theirs dead six of them or even more were killed, the attack was highly unexpected. Much paper was all over the floor but half burned or wet, he hoped it wans't his oldiers who done that as they would need every information they need to excuse their actions.

They entered the main room, things weren't any better but bodies were being throwned out of the windows; to be picked up and burned so no sickness can occur. Men were gathered around Master Sallus Uberius Vuntar, a greedy man who was serving none but himself; smiling as if nothing happened. As the Viscount and his peers were approcahing he spitted on the man's face and laughed at him, the Viscount was shocked from this action while Imshael was furious from this act and gave a very strong fist on the man's face, falling on the ground and spitting several of his teeth.

"Mind your fucking manners traitor!" he pointed on Sallus angrily but no avail. Sallus got up and still smiled from his 'deed' but he would regret it soon.

Perin cleaned his face, looking to the man. Yet serious as he ever was and anry but he must retain his sense and question the man before send him to the Imperial City.

"Was it worth it? Was it worth it all the this blood; these dead men who died with a sword on their chests?"

"I don't know what you are talking about?" Sallus made a smirkly smile, he was hit on hi stomach very hard with his firsts thrice and reminded him that the Dreadfort would hand him a lot better "interrogations", much better than their own. Both men knew for what they talked about and thus he lowered his face down no longer laughing.

Justice will be served, but not from my hand thought Perin, "You used the very authority given by the previous Lord Master of Shadows... but I wonder still, you used your power to blackmail people so that you can become richer & richer as it wasn't already enough stealing from the imperial vaults on this very building we share this roof at this very moment hmm?" he was now mocking him instead.

"I regret nothing hehe, you see the very power I hold in my hands were given for a single purpose, wealth; ripe for taking. All these people I balckmailed they deserved it, you know what we do to blood mages coming from Augrliac or the Silver Cities? Of course you do, they knew as well and that's right they did my bidding. Oh I remember, I recognize none of these proceedings; you have no authority to judge me Viscount" he bowed low to make his statement look like a joke. Yet Viscount Perin was unaffected by this stupid act.

"You right I don't but there are other who do, in fact when they will this "music" in their hears from your mouth they will make sure have you drowned for this. It is over Master Sallus, YOU HEAR IT IS OVER! And now ths very moment you have been stripped your money accounts from the banks, the Republic Bank from Röken & the West Banking Clan from Gundaro happily will gave these blood money to the people you blackmailed as you did the same to their officials; their respective lord paramounts would be notified I assure you and they will thank us for this good service. There are also other matters to attend to, you destoryed evidence and information which could have been used by the Empire, Vallorion or even the entire North at their disposal regarding the Augrilac situation but no matter. Soon we will know their intentions when they will be near the shores as the north will be invaded first if they know that the Silver Cities have rebelled against the Imperial authority. Now get this... man out of my sight and send to the Imperial City - use the Arcany serive longboat, seize the rest three to my service."

The soldiers seized the man, put him in sackles while resisting to his awaited faith towards the Imperial City but not before turning and asked:" What about my men? the money on the dipository?"

This time Imshael smiled and saked the men loudly, "Gentlemen! Did any of you saw any survivors?" and all men either laughed or shown negeative expression towards the question,"Did any of you saw any money?" the same reaction happened again and he asked one last time, "Wasn't the building burned to the ground by the Arcani themselves?" yet again the same. Sallus was screaming, saying he was falsely accused but that was a half-lie as the soldiers of Sahrnia bruned the building on the ground while killing the survivors or sending to the silver mines back to Highever. Several mages from Augrilac were found but not reported obviosly to the higher echelons of the imperial hierarchy as they slit their throats while the Caanite mages from the Silver Cities were released and will be send back to their home as an act of goodwill.... As for the money; they would be confiscated so that the troops can be paid while funding the naval shipyards for a commission to create a Sahrnian fleet.

Two messages were written by the Viscount, one towards the Silver Cities while the second to the Imperial City. Hopefully the second will arrive just in time, due by that time both 'Prince' Tellegara & Lady Mistress Ellyn Tarembor will be back to the city, attending their bussinesses....

To the most esteemed Lord Paramount Sar-shazzar of the Silver Cities.

Your Lordship, you will receive this letter from 12 Caanite mages native from your land who returned to you as an act of goodwill. You must have noticed they seemed to be pressed from torture but it wasn't our act as they Arcani had captured them. We both know the animosity between our people even the days before the Empire but despite we were bitter yet mutual respect was still practised among our peoples rearading our "transanctions". Also one last remark so that I can end this message short.... we know what happened to Blacktear Forest adn what you took right in front from our hands, you are tresspassing on a dangerous road.

To Prince Tellegara & Lady Mistress of Shadows

We would like to inform you that Master Sallus Umber Vuntar, commander of the Arcani agents of the north stationed in Nervast was arrest for abuse of power, blackmail & of course treason. Master Sallus used hisauthority to advance his position against others while diregarding his official duties such as keeping an eye on Augrlilac, the nemesis of our empire who ever holding their breathes so that they can brinks us ever closer to extinction.

Master Sallus also has burned down the Arcani headquerters in Nervast which means all counter-espionage operations to the north are on jeapordy as he ahd recalled a large of sum of his men back here in Nervast to use them on his operations. Large sums of very important information are no longer us to us; as he burned all evidence or killed the witnesses. But that's not all unfortunately.... you see all imperial taxes of western Vallorion have "vanished" from the depository and we can no longer find them as the trace gone cold rather quickly due to the lack of information.

Yet but bad news continue to flow as dead Augrilac blood mages were found dead but none survived the assault as the Arcani agents slit their throats so that they can say nothing to us. The north is in incredible danger at the moment as this "opening" happened by this man threatens our existence while we have reasons to believe that the Arcani agents on the Silver Cities would probably switch their allegiance and swear fealty to this so called "Republic" . This man must find justice on the headsman's block were he deserves.....

Yours,
Vicount Perin Sakvil-Threnhold, vassal to the Archduke of Sahrnia; Hoster Threnhold.

[Annihilators of Chan Island]

Belrond looked at the proceedings with a grim expression. He remembered, years ago, actually attending the coronation of Ragnar Bloodhound. It had been a poor celebration for such an emperor, but then again Ragnar had at the time mostly been a ruler by name and had been nowhere near as powerful as he was now.

He commented at the plans'' An interesting point there Ellyn. Our warriors will need to be assembled... and fast. I shall even today issue orders to raise the levies for the coming wars.''

He looked over to the delegation and announced'' If we are to meet this Augrillac force with any might, we will need to secure every realm in the Empire... and I'm afraid that will mean having to subdue our necromancer subjects in the Silver Cities. In order to achieve this, I ask of you all to contribute to the military might of the expedition.''

He surveyed all the rooms, then said plainly'' I expect every lord and lady of a realm to contribute a minimum 5000 soldiers to the campaign, every count 3000, every baron 1000. These forces should be raised by the end of the month and they should meet in the city of Gregantum, where Kevin Tellegara will head the invasion force....''

He spared a glance to sample the expressions of all the elves in the room. Gregantum was always a sensitive issue with elves, as the city had once been populated by elves... until Titus Rahtis conquered it and forcible exterminated all the elves there and replaced them with humans. Sadly, Gregantum was strategically a useful place to set off from for a sledgehammer attack on Ninutursur... and also the Esterlands. After all, who knew what irrational acts Lord Ranger would do now that he was so upset with the Tellegaras?

He then looked back at the map and stated'' As for the Augrillacs, I want every noble in the realm to put every city and fort on alert, coastal ones I want on high alert. I want to see everyone re-train their troops, and raise at least 10000 men in levies. I want to see everyone forging weapons, specifically I want everyone to contribute either the wood, the metal or the finished product that will be heavy siege equipment to be placed in strategic locations and will be prepared for the event of a siege.''

[The Starlight]

-snip-

Saerondr stood up at that, his face growing grim. "I am sorry Belrond, but I nor any of the elves of Vallorion would set foot inside that city. Anywhere else I would follow gladly, as Vallorion is the realm with the most to suffer should Ninutursur attack across the mountains. But that city," Saerondr whispered in quiet rage, "that city is still stained with the blood of my very own ancestors. There, the Edalie were murdered. There, no mercy was given, no quarter. Just cold, bloody steel to every pointed eared being, male, female and child. There, we were not merely driven out, we were not forced out. Nay, we were exterminated and terminated. To step foot inside that city, to trod the very graves of the founders of House Tarembor, The Edalie swore an oath after that terrible day, and I cannot, will not break it. Gregantum, is not its true name, you know, once, along ago, before Rahtis." Saerondr said, his eyes looking to the northeast. "I cannot do it, and it would dishonor both I, my line and every single elf of Pandyssium. House Tarembor have faithfully followed our conquerors, but this, I must say no."

"But, before I am accused of treason, and am laughed at," Saerondr said, glaring at the lady of Gunrado, "I propose that I, my armies all elves in your armies, and perhaps the Faeries create another flank, another force, outside of Gregantum, far enough way not to dishonor ourselves. And as the army moves out, we will be the right or left flank. If the necromancers and their soldiers charge, we fall upon their flank, giving us an great advantage. And we are going to need all the advantages we can get. The elven army would be led by Lord Alasdair and I, though we would both be under Kevin Tellegara. As for why Alasdair and I, we fought together, in the days of our youth, and we were quite the formidable pair," said Saerondr offering a glance and smile to his old friend.

[Annihilators of Chan Island]

-snip-

Saerondr stood up at that, his face growing grim. "I am sorry Belrond, but I nor any of the elves of Vallorion would set foot inside that city. Anywhere else I would follow gladly, as Vallorion is the realm with the most to suffer should Ninutursur attack across the mountains. But that city," Saerondr whispered in quiet rage, "that city is still stained with the blood of my very own ancestors. There, the Edalie were murdered. There, no mercy was given, no quarter. Just cold, bloody steel to every pointed eared being, male, female and child. There, we were not merely driven out, we were not forced out. Nay, we were exterminated and terminated. To step foot inside that city, to trod the very graves of the founders of House Tarembor, The Edalie swore an oath after that terrible day, and I cannot, will not break it. Gregantum, is not its true name, you know, once, along ago, before Rahtis." Saerondr said, his eyes looking to the northeast. "I cannot do it, and it would dishonor both I, my line and every single elf of Pandyssium. House Tarembor have faithfully followed our conquerors, but this, I must say no."

"But, before I am accused of treason, and am laughed at," Saerondr said, glaring at the lady of Gunrado, "I propose that I, my armies all elves in your armies, and perhaps the Faeries create another flank, another force, outside of Gregantum, far enough way not to dishonor ourselves. And as the army moves out, we will be the right or left flank. If the necromancers and their soldiers charge, we fall upon their flank, giving us an great advantage. And we are going to need all the advantages we can get. The elven army would be led by Lord Alasdair and I, though we would both be under Kevin Tellegara. As for why Alasdair and I, we fought together, in the days of our youth, and we were quite the formidable pair," said Saerondr offering a glance and smile to his old friend.

Belrond had anticipated that. Alas. It would have been nice not to have that wound brought up.

'' I understand you concerns. It is a cursed place among the elves, even for those that live there. Unfortunately, it is a very well-placed cursed city, and I had no choice but to issue the gathering of our armed forces in this location.

However, seeing as the invasion has to come from your realm anyway, I will exempt you from having to go there. Instead, I wish for you to stay in Vallorian, and instead use your tithe of levies to clear passages through the mountains into the Silver Cities. Ideally, I would wish to have your troops already holding positions inside the traitorous realm and allow Kevin's Sledgehammer to finish the job, but I'll understand if that can't be done.''

He then looks about the rest of the Caer Aard and ponders'' We will need much in the way of a navy. If every realm immediately gets to the business of supplying wood, iron, craftsmen, crew or a location we could possibly build a couple galleys before the end of the month. Any ships in our ports maybe ought to be seized and used for military purposes as well.... ''

[Sil Arion]

-snip-

Caer Aard, the Heartlands
Ard Rí na Éireann Taioseach Nessa mac Nuada Alasdair Fearfiach

Midday, second day of the Caer Aard Gathering

He caught Saerondr’s nod. But. His eyes. They said something else. Is there something I know not? The haunted and harrowed look in his old friend’s eyes spoke of sorrow and wrath from times long past. His friend’s face grew even more troubled as Belrond continued speaking. And then it hit him.

Gregantum. How could he forget that? He had studied that battle, written of as it had been in the books of his great library. Or rather, that massacre. It had been ruthless, brutally efficient in its slaughter of the elves by Titus himself; worthy of the bloody work of the Fianna Fáil. But what had happened afterwards? Something- Yes. He remembered now. The enslaving of any other elves, handing them out like chattel as slaves for the lords and their sons who were loyal to Titus. The disrespect of the bodies. Oh the rage you must be feeling, my friend, for this affront to your honour, you sanctity. He understood.

For it was a familiar feeling to him. One he knew well himself from that time, those twenty years ago when the hundred thousand orcs invaded his beloved homeland, and when so many of his family and friends were lost in slaying the barbarous beasts. The women and children who were taken, enslaved, violated. Memories threatened to surface, but he pushed them back down. The fire and ice. The energy. He would save for later. For the enemy soon at hand. Regardless, it has certainly been to long since we last shared a cup, and Saerondr surely has a bottle of his Elven wine with him. We need to catch up. And he has a daughter as well now! He smiled slightly at that, and here he allowed himself to remember. Memories of the last night spent in the Elf-lord’s library, drunken arguing over battle tactics and whose sword had shed more blood the day before, whose kills had been the best, the most skillful. Wrestling among the stacks when things got a bit out of hand, and then waking up the next day with a blinding headache and a score of empty bottles lying about the floor. And Saerondr’s wife walking in and giving the two a scolding on par with his own dearly departed mother. That had been best of times when he was abroad a decade ago.

He caught his friend’s smile and returned it, nodding as his smile grew into a grin. Doubtless he too remembers well that night, bloody elf. Indeed, it had been the best of times.

“If we are already discussing strategy, I am in agreement here with Saerondr. My warriors are at their best if moving on the flanks or far forward of the main army, whether in the battle, or the war as a whole. With the stability and support of an elven army to fall back upon – an army that can keep pace with us in most terrain – we can harass the enemy and harry the enemy’s supply lines to greater effect. It is a tried and true strategy, among others we two have developed. Kevin knows this too. We can slow their advance, wear them down, whichever foe we face first. Then the other realms will have the time to muster themselves and gather into a main army, which will take weeks yet.” He looked across the pavilion, a wildness and wisdom both dancing in his eyes. “Saerondr, my friend, should we encounter Augrilac first, allow me and mine kin to the honour to battle these Bloodwarriors, these shock troops of Ragnar’s. We are the best suited to take them on and bleed them before they reach the main army, and reach you. From afar they shall have a taste of the fatal and lovely Last Kiss of the Faeries, and we are the only ones with recent experience in Augrilac’s way of war.” Aye, the poisons will take them well, for their blood runs swift and hot. And if not enough, the fires too. But they would be a worthy foe, for they sounded near as vicious and violent as his own kin. Already his mind was as a whirlwind, thoughts whipping about like the wind as he contemplated strategies and tactics. Augrilac was an enemy he himself had never faced, nor as an employer either. Father though. And Grandfather Dagda as well, along with many of his older kith and kin. They had been both. He remembered some their stories of the continent across the sea, of its history and culture, but barely. That had been many years ago. But he did remember the battles he heard of. The strong shieldwall tactics, surrounded by skirmishers and backed up by berserkers; the stratagems of swift night attacks leading up to all-out assaults after exhausting the enemy; the favored weapons of their warriors, spears, swords and axes, light and heavy alike. Much like his own people in style of attacking. But without bows among their Bloodwarriors, and few horses. He remembered some too of the Southrons, their heavy and light cavalry, combined lancer and archer tactics, feigned retreats leading to entrapments, among others, but less so. In combination, these two forces had - potential. Regardless, he’d ensure his father and his kin were allowed to speak in the true strategy session sure to take place after this last business finished. He had a little more to say first though.

“But while I relish the opportunity to fight too the so-called undead hordes of the Silver Cities and their Death Knights, my people’s poisons and skills will be of less use against the troops whose bodies feel no pain, whose minds know no fear, and whose corpses can be continually resurrected, and our own dead risen against us. My soldiers are strong, and our hatred for undead stronger still, but a fight like that would be – tedious. Unless we first slew their necromancers, those Lich Priests, and destroy their supplies and the regents used in their resurrection rituals, we would not fair well in such a fight. A grinding battle is more the style of the Legions and other realms, but we will do what we can to assist in the war against Ninurtusur. The sooner everyone here can raise their armies, the better – we won’t be able to hold them off forever.” Nonetheless. There would blood and fire abounding, and he already he could hear the sounds of steel on steel and warcries in his ears, the armies arrayed before his eyes and his blade wet with the blood of a worthy foe. And it will be glorious. They will all burn and their blood shall water the earth. A savage if slight smile emerged on his face, and excitement danced in his eyes like flames. Flashing his fingers, he conveyed to his father his thoughts, and to his son and Setanta. A few fingers, nods, and the fire too danced in their eyes. But as Alasdair turned back to watch the proceedings, his son flicked his hand across the pavilion from their table. Towards the Tarembors. And one in particular. The girl? His son emphatically shook his, but his cheeks seemed to colour a bit. Ah. His son wished to partake in the mission. Swiftly, he signed to his son he would grant permission only if his Hound, Setanta accompanied, his face otherwise stony.

How he wished for his cousin and longtime friend and bodyguard to stay at his side for the coming war! But his son would better need a bodyguard on such a dire and dark assassination mission. And indeed, Setanta is arguably the best bodyguard and assassin among the Fianna Fáil. His achievements are high and mighty, and death itself couldn’t stay his hand, for such is the power of his loyalty. Setanta nodded his assent to the plan, smiling slightly, fingers flashing as he did. Already, he appeared to have picked his men, if by the names he gave him. Eight of their best present here. Old Goll. Rónáin, ever ready. Morna, and his sons Caílte and Conán. Lughaid, the Druid. Oisín and Oscar, the twins. All were already present in his guard. So ten in total of his kith and kin would go with the Mistress of Shadows on her mission, with his son and Setanta leading them to glory.

To this end, he turned his gaze to his friend’s daughter and addressed her, “Ellyn, I would send with you ten of my kin to kill their king. Is this acceptable?” After all, there could be only one Emperor of Pandyssium.

Few would likely return. But they are best suited to the task. Of that he had no doubt.


The Hall of Teamhair, Citadel of An Tara, City of Loch Nessa, Realm of Lia Fáil
Nessa mac Ness Conchobair

Morning, seven days before the Caer Aard Gathering

“Any word from the Elves or Dwarves of our realm, my friends?”

None nodded to his question, all the clan leaders and his kin shaking their heads as Conchobair swept his gaze about the chamber, eyes tracing the shadows on their faces as sun shone in from the windows of amber-gold and blood-red glass beside them. He sighed. Well, looks like we’re alone as always. A grim thought too, but no less true for it. Lest the enemy were at the gates, the Elves and Dwarves wouldn’t rouse themselves in defense of the whole realm. How shameful. But he could not blame truly them – only Rahtis had ever successfully invaded their realm, and so they had no need to risk themselves and lose loved ones, and neither did they have the bloodlust and love of battle his people. Alasdair better have business under control up there though. Goddess-damned lowlanders never could stand to compromise if it didn’t serve their interests. They had no honor amongst them. The few that did only proved the rule. He smirked at the thought, then shook his head. Enough. There is business at hand.

He was – wary though. Only just now had the news come of Augrilac’s growing strength. Of its vast fleet of transports and warships, its massive army and great arms it brought with it, and he had slept little because of it, spending long hours into the night scouring the tomes in the Great Library for any information on their newest enemy. There was little there in those ancient tomes and books written by lowlanders they didn't already know themselves. And as they were being invaded this time – yet again, to his chagrin – there was no need to learn the lay of their enemy’s lands, their cities and disparate settlements. But still. He was wary of so powerful a foe. If a worthy one, for once.

“Cathbad, how much longer ‘til the fleet lands at the Heartlands to reinforce Alasdair?”

His cousin looked pensive for a moment, the Druid’s brow furrowing before he responded, his voice low, “If the weather permits and good winds persist, another eight days, cousin, arriving in the afternoon of the Gathering’s second day. Perhaps the third. Little later than that. I have been scrying the fleet and communicating by magicks with my father and Fionn aboard the flagship. The waves are still calm in early summer, and strong southerly winds prevail during the day, though at nights they bluster and swirl, and the seas swell in the bay between the coasts of Gunrado and Grecia. By his estimation though the heavy storms won’t begin til midsummer if this year continues as it has, so they continue to travel most swiftly.” Very well then. Myrrdin indeed has wisdom of the world in ways I’ll understand. Then his cousin’s grim countenance twisted into a derisive sneer and his voice turned sharp and dark, “Ignorant lowlanders likely haven’t even begun their muster yet.” He barked out a harsh laugh, and Conchobair watched as a fiery hatred welled up in his cousin’s eyes before he turned away towards the window.

Cathbad, how long will you mourn your loss and let it cloud your vision? Truly, he understood. They had been his family too, his cousins, his kith and kin. His brothers. His blood that lay spilled on the earth, alongside the bodies of the barbarians, the purity of their Faerie blood tainted. And he had turned grim after that time. ‘His heart has turned to stone,’ as his own son said once of him. It had been a dark time. But, to let that hatred consume you? Even Alasdair had not fallen to it, though his wrath was always greatest of them all - indeed, he had mastered it and wielded it as another weapon in his arsenal. He himself had managed the same, though it took longer. Few were so skilled in mastering themselves as Alasdair. Few so wise for having so few years. And while Cathbad spoke truly of lowlanders as ignorant, one had to be careful. They were not necessarily stupid – some surely would have begun to raise their armies and navies. Elsewise Pandyssium would be in an even sorrier state than it was now.

It matters little though, he though as the discussion turned towards construction of further defenses of their cities, and he let his kin speak as they would. Indeed, there were far more important things to keep track of than anger, than sadness. For Lia Fáil was now bereft of forty warships and a hundred transports filled with thirty-six thousand of their best soldiers, and while no sane enemy would assault their fortresses, the Wolflands and Röken were not so well defended by terrain or fortifications. The southlands of the Pandyssium were less like to come under attack, but still. It was his home, and the home of many others. As he gazed out the window at the shining city that stretched out far below the Citadel of An Tara, he felt – apprehensive. As if storm clouds brewed just over the horizon, even given the good omens of such a beautiful day. For the foe they faced was stronger than even Titus of old, with numbers and weapons far greater than their own. And if they had to stand alone in the first fight. Well. Such things did not win a battle by themselves, but for each of his kin to face twenty of the enemy? Poor odds, even for them.

So he did something he had not done in a long, long time. He prayed. Oreionn, One God and Father of the Forest, keep well watch over my kith and kin and give them the glory they given You. And bessed be Your Everchosen.

[The Starlight]

-snip-'

-snip-

Saerondr looked into his old friend's eyes, seeing memories, and battles dance across them. He continued, "My thanks, Belrond. Within a week after this Gathering, the elves of Vallorion shall be mustered and we shall march to the mountains. Though a week is not long enough to muster my full force, the mountain passes contain caves and passages that are small and can only be walked by two men abreast. The necromancers and their armies will undoubtedly be hiding in there, for ambush. The elves shall clear them out, and then we will besiege the nearest city, or meet them in battle. And if the Fianna Fáil can walk fast enough," Saerondr said, shooting a smirk at his old friend, "They will be most welcome."

At Alasdair's request, Ellyn nodded and said, "Done. As long as they are willing. They will be an incredible asset. But the mission precedes all. If any of us fall, we must continue on. That includes me. However, as we would all like to remain alive, we should be fine, and I assume you have picked some of your best."