Lavell, a Fantasy Medieval Kingdom (IC)(Open)

[Albertae]

Kingshill, Capital of The Kingdom of Lavell
King's Tavern

Charles Goodford and Frederickson Miller walk into the tavern and head for the owner.
Charles Goodford: What can I get for 10 silver ducats?
Owner: Golden ducats? One silver ducats per night so ten nights and those two bed rooms.
Charles Goodford: How about we add five silver ducats to that and you will take care of my horses and feed them everyday.
Owner: Can do.
Charles and Fredrickson head up the stairs to their room after putting the horses in the stables.
Charles: Ok Frederickson you head off to this Division leader aka the King's Captain. And I have some buisiness to do. And be back before midnight.
Frederickson: Ok, Charles.
They part their seperate ways and while Charles looks for an acceptable candidate Frederickson heads off to the Palace.
Frederickson: Hello! I'm Lord Miller's son I've come to seek out a the man who is the King's Guard Captain?
Guard: Seal?
Frederickson unsheathed his Greatsword to show the Miller crest which startles the guard and sends him fumbling for his weapons.
Frederickson: Don't get your tits in a knit, I'm an eleven year old you imbecile this is my Royal crest now let me past.
The guard is red-faced after being frightened by an eleven year who can barely handle his own Greatsword, nonetheless he lets the child past. Frederickson heads straight for the King's Guard and asks for Saxon Clique the Captain of the King's Guard...
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King's Tavern

Charles has been sitting at a table for awhile now waiting for a contact he asked to come see him here.
A man in a dark hood walks in and sits down at the table with Charles.
Charles: It's been awhile friend.
Assassin: Indeed, now what is it you need friend.
Charles whispers everything after and this: I need you to poison the King's Chief Auditor.
The assassin seems stunned but stays professional.
Assassin: How much are you paying?
Charles: 250 ducats.
Assassin: 500 ducats.
Charles: 475 ducats.
Assassin: I suppose we have a deal. What is the significance of the man?
Charles: I do not know why my employer wants this done he just ask that while I'm in town on secret buisiness that I get this done.
Assassin: I'm taking a big risk here is there any assets I have?
Charles: Well, the child I'm currently accompanying is talking to a man that is part of some secret order called the Division who also want the King dead.
Charles: And this secret order is an official order that is close enough to the King they could be of use.
Assassin: Hmmm, I can do this but what is your preference on the man's death?
Charles: Apparently my master wanted the man poisoned but it is up to your preference. We will speak about this further tommorrow when I have more details from the child.
They casually leave one after another an hour apart and then Charles heads to the palace to catch up with Frederickson.

Saxon was still very angry about the mercenaries in the city. But he had found a scape goat, a servant who brought food to the dungeon who hates the king. Then a boy walked into his office bearing the seal of the Lord he had sent the message too. "Welcome, come back here and lock the door. I am the leader of the people your looking for. But I expected your father, but I will take what I can get. I hope you have a plan, cause the steward and I are at odds right now. So my position maybe at risk, but with my family's service. I should be safe, so what can I help you with?" Asked Saxon is a hushed voice.

Charles Goodford, Bodyguard
Frederickson Miller

Charles: Frederickson do you mind going outside for just a little bit.
Frederickson leaves.
Charles: Ok. The chief auditor, Geoffrey, is planning on suggesting to the King that you be replaced, correct? So, Lord Miller sent me to have Geoffrey murdered by an assassin I will meet with him tommorrow in King's Tavern. However, I've heard that the Red Lances will be there and they work for the King. We will have to be quiet, quick, and cautious. If you can get my assassin into Geoffrey's chambers discreetly that night my assassin will handle the rest. I've already paid him just make sure no one gets close to the crime scene. Got it?
Frederick come back in.
Charles: Also, this is to help with the Division's finances. Charles hands Saxon a bag with 325 ducats. Remember to come to the King's Tavern tommorrow.

[Albertae]

(Image)
Tyrus Willun, Lord Of The Twin Reaches

Tyrus strode into the great hall of Honeybarrow, where two other men sat. He didnt know them well, but had heard of them. They were Lord Fredrick Miller, and Lord Æþor Bergussøn. They together, made up an alliance to lay siege to the Kings holding, and would take his crown from him. Tyrus greeted the two men, but other that that didn't say much. He sat in between the two men, and listened to them talk back and forth about logistics. He agreed with what was being said, but couldn't help but feel they were covering ground they had already been over.

After at least 15 minutes of this, Tyrus straightened up in his chair, and said, "My lords, I feel we are well aware of our military's strength at this point in the conversation. I feel we need to focus on what our plans are, if we are to go to war. We would obviously need to raise our army's. But what then? Im sure you men have your own ideas for strategy, but let me say what I believe we should do." Tyrus filled a cup of wine before continuing, "I believe that the best course of action is to stage a campaign from my lands. They are mountainous, and my soldiers are very well prepared to defend them. If we strike from there, even if the kings forces do manage to push us back, they will not have an easy time getting to our capitals on the other side of the mountains." Tyrus sat back, and examined the other two lords faces, waiting for a response.

Zaahir Ashan
Commander of the Order Of The Open Hand
Kingshill.

Zaahir rode through the streets of Kingshill, Abdas riding next to him, and 2 more of his men behind them. He had taken up his muttering again, now that he was not in a situation where he would need to worry about his appearance in front of a potential employer. He had looked over his room, and had rather liked it. He had decided that if his men were not going to have any lodgings for a while, then at least some of them would get to expierience the comforts of the palace. He had only been in the city for a few days, but non the less he had had as many of his soldiers as he could pack into that one room at a time sleeping there every night. It was an odd situation, similar to a sleepover among children, only instead of children it was highly trained, battle tested warriors who enjoyed leering at the women as they passed by their door. The women here were certainly much less modest here than they were in his homeland, and the men had certainly noticed it. Abdas had tried to get the men to stop, but with no support from Zaahir, who was far more concerned with drinking up the wine and talking to any who would listen about his insane fantasys, he had had little success. He still stuck by his beliefs though, and told any of the Open Handers he saw catcalling the women that a real man would never treat a lady like that. He was far to gentlemanly of a man to be a sellsword.

But, now they were patrolling the streets of Kingshill, just as they had been hired to do. There had been a few minor incidents, but most of them had resolved themselves when Zaahir began to rant at the perpetrators about how he liked the idea of skinning them, or taking their ears, or many other bizarre and disturbing punishments. Zaahir had noticed that there was another group who patrolled other than his men and the city guard. They all seemed to be wearing black armor, and carrying crimson flags. He wondered about these men. They were far better looking in their beautiful, hammered armor than his men were, in their old, ragged clothing and chinked and stained chain mail. It seemed they had far more favor with the people than Zaahirs Open Hand soldiers. But, he didn't care, his troops carried some level of respect, even if they weren't liked, so they were able to do the jobs they were hired for.

The 4 man group patrolled for what seemed an unending, boring few hours where nothing happened, until a man came running up to them. He was fat, and looked like a rich man. He told them that his house had been robbed, while he was still inside even. According to him, the bandits had the king was on his way out, and they could do what ever they wanted.

"Tell us where they are," said Abdas, looking at the man.

"Im not sure, but I believe they would probably have gone to the nearest tavern to my home. Ive seen them lurking about there before, and they always watched me go by. I feel they are jealous of me."

There was a bit more back and forth, but the end result was the man showing Zaahir and his men the tavern, and just as he had said, a trio of men who he said were the robbers sat around a table inside. "That one is the leader of the group, sir," said the man, "He was telling the others what to take."

Zaahir looked at the man, then to the robbers, before dismounting his horse and entering the tavern. Abdas and his other two man came behind him. He walked up to the man who was supposedly the leader of the robbers, and said, "Excuse me sir, but have you by any chance entered that mans home, and taken his things while he was still there?" Zaahir hadnt really needed to ask, it was rather obvious that they had. They were wearing golden necklaces and rings that they had clearly never had the money to buy.

"Why would you want to know that, sir?" replied the man.

"Because," said Zaahir, before jumping up onto the three robbers table, kicking their drinks to the ground, and leaning forward into the leaders face and yelling, "I DONT LIKE THAT!"

There was a brief clamor as the robber fell backwards from his chair, before quickly standing himself back up and pulling a knife out from his pants and saying, "What in the hells is this? You cant just do that to me, friend? Do you know what I did to the last guy who did that to me? Do you? Hu-" his sentence was cut short, as Zaahir reached forward from atop the table and grabbed the mans hand that was holding the knife, and with his other reaching out and slapping him across the face.

Zaahir blew a raspberry into the mans face, before speaking, "I dont care what you did to the last man, Im going to do what I want to you. If I want to have you with some fine wine and spices, I will, you stupid punch drunk milk drinker."

The robber looked at Zaahir, shocked by the bizzare show of force, and said, "W-what?"

One of Zaahirs men, who was still standing by the door, said, "I believe he is telling you that he plans to eat you, sir."

The robber looked at Zaahir, then to the soldier, and back to Zaahir before opening his fist and dropping his knife. Behind Zaahir, one of the other robbers pulled a knife as well, and mad to lunge at him. Zaahir turned on his heel, bringing the leader with him, who fell down onto his side while Zaahir never let of him, and kicked the mans knife out of his hand. It flew up into the air, hitting the ceiling, before coming down onto the toe of the third robber. "DONT TRY THAT SHIT!" Yelled Zaahir, "OR ILL EAT YOU TO!"

There was some more yelling and ranting from Zaahir, but it soon ended well, and the robbers gave what they had stolen back to their victim. Zaahir had the three men tied to the back of his horse by the hands, and he cantered all the way back to the jail, so that the three robbers had to run.

Yeah your right. We should put all of our current soldiers to defending the mountain front to keep the King's army from advancing on us. The King may be able to take our lands from us but we will fight to show they are ours. My nobles do not like me one of them was once my liege and now I've been appointed a Lord of the Realm. I'm having a man assassinated. He is the Baron of Hyville and is a vassal to the King in my lands. We will not have to deal with him militarily but economically. I've arranged for plans to happen to him.. Other than that I'm having Fort Ataxia rebuilt. We will use this as a retreating grounds. All I can say is I won't b able to raise any more troops then I currently do. All of my people are committed to farming as should some of your Tyrus should be to metal producing for weapons and equipment. And Lord Æbor your going to be the main bulk of the army see what you can muster when the time comes.

[Anglo Saxon-Franko]

Retcon

[Albertae]

-RETCONED

[Dijen (Ancient)]

Kingshill

Anatoli Orlov

After scaling the steps, he was led by a servant into the council chamber, where he saw King Elyas standing at a window, with a glass of wine in his hand. "My King", He said as he fell to his knee, "I have come". King Elyas turned and walked over to him, "My friend", He began as he grabbed Anatoli's hand and lifted him to his feet, "Thank you for coming, I need your help". "I know, just on the way here I was attacked by peasants", He replied, "When did it get this bad"? Elyas grabbed a glass of wine and gave it to Anatoli, "It just began to get worse, but that isn't what I wanted you to help me with". King Elyas offered a seat to Anatoli and then sat down, "I am currently heirless, as you know, and I need to figure out how to change that, but meanwhile, You are my most loyal supporter and I need you to find someone that I can appoint as my heir if I were to die tomorrow". Anatoli nodded in understanding and thought for a while before responding, "I suggest you find some Bastard and claim he is yours, and begin to train him in politics, that way if you do end up having a legitimate heir you can replace him, but if not he has more claim to the throne than anyone else". Elyas sipped his wine and thought about that, "That could work", He finally said, "Find me someone that could pass for my son and is smart". He stood up and glanced out the window, "I also need your help with another thing, I think that some of the other Lord of the Realms are not supportive of me, and I need you to back me again". "I will assemble an army of 300 strong and send them here", Anatoli told the king as he stood up and walked toward the door, "Am I dismissed"? "Yes", King Elyas replied, "I need to prepare to make a royal proclamation".

King Elyas

Now I have an heir, all I need now is to gain the loyalty of the peasants, and I have a plan to do that, well sort of, King Elyas thought as Anatoli left the room. He began pacing back and forth across the room, thinking about what he planned to do. It would give me supporters, and give me more soldiers, he thought as he stopped at the window and stared out it at the city. It has proven a problem in the past, but this time it could be different, He thought as he walked toward the door. He ordered a servant to clear the table and decided that he was going to go through with his plan. He walked to the throne room and ordered a scribe to follow him. Next, he walked to the stables, and ordered a horse be readied. While he was waiting, he continued to think. When the stable boys finished preparing a horse for him and the scribe, he mounted and took off toward the temple. By the time he arrived, a large crowd had gathered. He dismounted and climbed the steps to the front doors of the temple.

"My People", He began, "Now is a time for us to turn from our old religion, and begin to worship the most powerful God of all, Baxelheric, the God of Fire". He then took a step toward the astonished crowd. "I command you all to worship The Faith of the Many Gods, and to hold Baxelheric as the highest God. I have spoken to Baxelheric, and he commands The Army of God to destroy all heathen peasants that disobey their King". He called to the crowed, "Join me, appointed by Baxelheric, and unify the Kingdom under the most powerful God of all".

[Gerdon Laughis]

My King Tyrus Willun, I hope this letter finds you in good health

My King, the people of Shattrath pray this letter finds you and your family in good health and happiness. I would like to request that you, your family, and all the nobles of the court with their families join me in Fort Shattrath for a Grand Feast! We shall engage in many festivities and I also hope to find a Noble Woman to take as my Bride. Along with this I wish to discuss some political matters with you and some of the other nobles. If the whispers are true and we are gearing to go to War, then I believe we shall enjoy merriment and the fellowship of our fellow countrymen before we head into the heat of battle. A Grand Feast before a Grand War seems only fitting for the history books does it not? I do hope you can make it here in a months time.
-May your reign be prosperous and uncontested, Duke Qaldor Dukalise of the Duchy of Shattrath and Mount Chalice

Similar letters were also sent out to the other nobles of the nation to join me at my grand feast in a months time.

[Erhialam]

Collen, from where he was crouched beneath the tavern table, could not understand many of the mercantile details of the conversation between his master and the Magpie. What the boy could tell, however, was that the voice of the former was growing heavier and heavier with drink, while that of the latter stayed sharp and shrewd.

Was this Magpie trying to manipulate Croft into making the deal? Getting him so drunk that he could do naught but agree? Collen felt naught but hatred for Croft, but it alarmed him that his master, such a prideful man, allowed himself to put in a place where his rival had such an advantage. Perhaps it was a tactic on Croft's part--letting the Magpie think he had the upper hand? Either way, the boy strained to listen to their conversation over the inn chatter, hanging on every word that was spoken. There was something about the Magpie that he found appealing--perhaps the way he could so command a situation?--but that admiration was well overshadowed by a cynical sense of distrust.

As the Magpie laid out his ultimatum, a roach scuttled over Collen's bare foot, startling him out of his listener's reverie. His sudden fidget made a tug at the rope, and he braced himself for a sharp rebuke from Croft. But Croft was well in the clutches of ale, and his grip on the rope was actually loosening. The tug went unnoticed.


Croft, for his part, still seemed to retain a sliver of sense despite his drunkenness, speaking slowly to avoid slurring his speech and making a fool of himself. "It seems...too good a deal, Master Magpie." Collen pictured the man cocking his head and narrowing his eyes. "You could...find gold and silver elsewhere...Why take mine? What's in it for you?"

It was a question that Collen might have posed, had he been in any position to ask it. As it was, he waited for the Magpie's answer.

[The Praetorian Empire]

Collen, from where he was crouched beneath the tavern table, could not understand many of the mercantile details of the conversation between his master and the Magpie. What the boy could tell, however, was that the voice of the former was growing heavier and heavier with drink, while that of the latter stayed sharp and shrewd.

Was this Magpie trying to manipulate Croft into making the deal? Getting him so drunk that he could do naught but agree? Collen felt naught but hatred for Croft, but it alarmed him that his master, such a prideful man, allowed himself to put in a place where his rival had such an advantage. Perhaps it was a tactic on Croft's part--letting the Magpie think he had the upper hand? Either way, the boy strained to listen to their conversation over the inn chatter, hanging on every word that was spoken. There was something about the Magpie that he found appealing--perhaps the way he could so command a situation?--but that admiration was well overshadowed by a cynical sense of distrust.

As the Magpie laid out his ultimatum, a roach scuttled over Collen's bare foot, startling him out of his listener's reverie. His sudden fidget made a tug at the rope, and he braced himself for a sharp rebuke from Croft. But Croft was well in the clutches of ale, and his grip on the rope was actually loosening. The tug went unnoticed.


Croft, for his part, still seemed to retain a sliver of sense despite his drunkenness, speaking slowly to avoid slurring his speech and making a fool of himself. "It seems...too good a deal, Master Magpie." Collen pictured the man cocking his head and narrowing his eyes. "You could...find gold and silver elsewhere...Why take mine? What's in it for you?"

It was a question that Collen might have posed, had he been in any position to ask it. As it was, he waited for the Magpie's answer.

The question had caught the Magpie by surprise. He was sure the old drunk fool would have just rolled over and accepted his offer. His thin, almost emaciated face remains unmoving and his eyes unblinking as he thinks up a new action. Croft clearly wasn't as money-hungry as the other merchants. What was his weakness? Could he be threatened? His pride? His legacy? He taps his fingers on his knees for a few seconds, then a tight smile grows across his face.

"You would be the talk of the Merchant Square if you were to take this offer, Master Croft." He says. "You, a... relatively unknown merchant, making the Magpie stoop to such an offer. Papyrus is plentiful behind the King's walls, but only the rich can afford to use it as paper and it still fetches a very fair price. Sugar is worth it's weight in silver coins and peat? Gods help me, with winter on the approach people would sell you their most amiable daughters for a fistful of peat." He leans forward in his seat, and his smile fades into nothingness. There is almost anger in his eyes. "I offer you this because I want to see you succeed for once. I want to have a merchant I can count on in this city of daggers. Accept, and you will finally take your chance to claw your way out from the depths of obscurity that you've been stuck in for the whole of your wretched life, nothing but one rung on the ladder away from common filth, scarcely better than the child you keep tied around your wrist like a dog." He says with some venom.

He leans back, wiping a sting of spittle away from his mouth and composing himself. "Or you could decline and die a dog in wolf's skin. I'm offering you a chance to be part of my pack, Croft, which is more valuable than any number of coins." He wipes his hand on the table then chaps it twice, the sign of a finished meeting. "If the next words out of your mouth aren't 'I accept', then we're done here." He goes to stand up and head for the door.

[Gerdon Laughis]

To Madam Clara Azurose the Fair,
My dearest Clara Azurose, Tales of your beauty and hardships have reached my court due to the whispers of the courtiers and servants, and their whispers have not gone unheard. I would like to extend a formal invite to my Grand Feast in a months time to formally greet you and get to know you more, personally. Please do consider this request for it would honor me greatly to have a woman such as yourself attend this event.
-The Roses pale in comparison to your beauty, Duke Qaldor Dukalise of Shattrath and Mount Chalice

[Amuaplye]

"I'll send you 400." He said. "Is this a deal?"

Lord Miller: Done deal. That brings our total up to 900 soldiers.

He shook Miller's hand in agreement. "I'll bribe the king with half of my ducats to let me rule half the nation, then betray him, and hopefully decapitate him in front of his subjects, and the usurp the throne. Does that seem good?" He took a sip of some wine.

[Albertae]

Lord Miller: Done deal. That brings our total up to 900 soldiers.

He shook Miller's hand in agreement. "I'll bribe the king with half of my ducats to let me rule half the nation, then betray him, and hopefully decapitate him in front of his subjects, and the usurp the throne. Does that seem good?" He took a sip of some wine.

He will not agree to such a thing. I fear that is too simple for such a barbaric man.

[Amuaplye]

He shook Miller's hand in agreement. "I'll bribe the king with half of my ducats to let me rule half the nation, then betray him, and hopefully decapitate him in front of his subjects, and the usurp the throne. Does that seem good?" He took a sip of some wine.

He will not agree to such a thing. I fear that is too simple for such a barbaric man.

"How about recreating the assassination of Julius Cæsar, maybe I can be Brutus." He chuckled a bit. "A fitting end for him."

[Cresadine]

Geoffrey smiles a little bit when the Magpie enters. Geoffrey has always enjoyed the dance of politics, the elegant game of to and fro between men. The Magpie is an elegant player of the game, one knows how to manipulate the pieces to his will, Geoffrey admires the man for this. The Magpie is obviously trying to make a statement, such parlour tricks might work with merchants who see wealth as the common denominator, or people who have not come to know the dance, but they have little effect on Geoffrey.

"That is most unfortunate. I have heard of the rather rapid succession of Lord's in Tikkemund, I trust all is orderly?"

He disregards the comment about his wife, and replies with, "rather well. She will visit me soon as she currently has been ruling in my stead in Hyville."

The Magpie motions for both men to sit, then sits himself. A rather uncourteous move to tell his host to sit, but the Magpie has never been one for court. "All is well in Swampcrest." He says while looking around the room, admiring the furnishings. It's exactly what he'd expected from Geoffrey. Simple to the point of plainness, but what little he's decorated his room with is certainly eye-catching. There is enough wealth in paper in this room to fund a small army, neatly stacked away in scroll cupboards.

He rattles his fingers together as he looks around, trying to calculate the wealth in this room in his head. An old habit of a professional thief. He can't seem to enter a building without casing it. "I'm sure she's doing a fine job, if her husband's own work is anything to go by." Suddenly his eyes snap back to Geoffrey, followed by the rest of his head in a slow turn. He's done with rhetoric. Business is on his mind now. Sveter gave him a mission, and time is very sensitive. "I can't help but notice the lack of noble stock in the city as of late. How odd, what with the audit on and everything. Was your summons not at the behest of his majesty? That would make it a royal summons, no?" His expressions turns to one of mock concern, and he places his fingers on the edge of the table. "In the time of the old king, it was treachery to refuse such a summons, was it not, my lord?"

Geoffrey is a little peeved that the Magpie would invite him to sit down in his own office, but he does not let it bother him.

"She has done a good job in my absence, our profits have been steady."

So the Magpie has seen the indignant absence of the Nobles as well, pitiful, those nobles dare defy a royal summons.

"So you have noticed it to. It humours me that they think this the appropriate place to put their foot down, this is simply an audit of their finances, not a call to war against some foreign power. Indeed what they have done is treacherous, and they will pay, sooner or later. So Magpie, tell me, what else have you come here for? Besides an audit of your realm's finances of course."

[The Praetorian Empire]

The Magpie motions for both men to sit, then sits himself. A rather uncourteous move to tell his host to sit, but the Magpie has never been one for court. "All is well in Swampcrest." He says while looking around the room, admiring the furnishings. It's exactly what he'd expected from Geoffrey. Simple to the point of plainness, but what little he's decorated his room with is certainly eye-catching. There is enough wealth in paper in this room to fund a small army, neatly stacked away in scroll cupboards.

He rattles his fingers together as he looks around, trying to calculate the wealth in this room in his head. An old habit of a professional thief. He can't seem to enter a building without casing it. "I'm sure she's doing a fine job, if her husband's own work is anything to go by." Suddenly his eyes snap back to Geoffrey, followed by the rest of his head in a slow turn. He's done with rhetoric. Business is on his mind now. Sveter gave him a mission, and time is very sensitive. "I can't help but notice the lack of noble stock in the city as of late. How odd, what with the audit on and everything. Was your summons not at the behest of his majesty? That would make it a royal summons, no?" His expressions turns to one of mock concern, and he places his fingers on the edge of the table. "In the time of the old king, it was treachery to refuse such a summons, was it not, my lord?"

Geoffrey is a little peeved that the Magpie would invite him to sit down in his own office, but he does not let it bother him.

"She has done a good job in my absence, our profits have been steady."

So the Magpie has seen the indignant absence of the Nobles as well, pitiful, those nobles dare defy a royal summons.

"So you have noticed it to. It humours me that they think this the appropriate place to put their foot down, this is simply an audit of their finances, not a call to war against some foreign power. Indeed what they have done is treacherous, and they will pay, sooner or later. So Magpie, tell me, what else have you come here for? Besides an audit of your realm's finances of course."

The intentions of the upstart lords are unknown even to the Magpie. His networks are extensive in Kingshill and Swampcrest, but outside of those cities, his guess is as good as Geoffery's. They control much of the metal extraction and the food supply of the kingdom, but they are lacking in one thing more important than either.

Men like the Magpie and Geoffrey.

"You said it yourself, there is more to this audit than meets the eye. The realm isn't exactly suffering financially. Despite the people's mixed opinions towards our king, it is my understanding that taxes are still being paid and the merchants still grow fat. I'm not entirely sure what you hoped to accomplish with this audit, but straightening out the books was certainly not it." The Magpie beings his hands up onto the table and clasps them together tightly. "Likewise, I have no intention of talking national economics today. Tikkemund is my primary concern. We lack several things that the other realms have, namely their population and their workable land. You can help us out in this regard."

He reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a letter. He opens it up and passes it to Geoffrey for him to read. "To cut a long letter short, a lot displaced peasants have been coming here to try and make a name for themselves and causing quite a ruckus at the gates, yes? Out of sheer generosity, my lord has suggested that these vagabonds be directed down to Swampcrest. We have the space and the need for them. They work the land, they bolster our population and they make us more powerful. We will, of course, require a small loan to buy equipment for dredging the swamps, hence why I brought this matter to you and not to his majesty." He leans over the table and points at the bottom of the page. "All the numbers are here. I'm sure you'll find them reasonable." He sits back down, waits and thinks. He knows that the man across from him won't possibly take his word on it's own, and he'll read through the letter first to avoid getting swindled. Then, he'll ask the most important of questions - what's in it for him?

[Albertae]

He will not agree to such a thing. I fear that is too simple for such a barbaric man.

"How about recreating the assassination of Julius Cæsar, maybe I can be Brutus." He chuckled a bit. "A fitting end for him."

Haha, that is for us to decide another day.

[Amuaplye]

"How about recreating the assassination of Julius Cæsar, maybe I can be Brutus." He chuckled a bit. "A fitting end for him."

Haha, that is for us to decide another day.

"Very well. It is almost night." He went back to his bedroom, and wrote more in his play.

[Dijen (Ancient)]

Tashivion

Arseni Orlov

"My Lord", Vassily Maksimov said to Arseni, "A letter has arrived from Tikkemund for your father".
"Bring it to me", Arseni commanded Vassily, the advisor that Anatoli had left to guide his son, from the Throne of the Realm, a large, wooden, chair, adorned with beautiful carvings.
"My Lord", Vassily said, "I would advise you to not deal with your father's personal business..."
He was cut of by and impatient Arseni, "It is addressed to the Lord of the Realm, and that is me in my father's absence".
"Yes", Vassily approached the throne and handed the letter to Arseni, "My Lord".
Arseni quickly tore open the letter and read it out loud, "My dear Lord Anatoli,

I have ruled in this land for a long time, and i've watched you grow from boy to noble supporter of our dread King Elyas (long may he reign!) from afar. I've come to realise that you and I have similar intrests in this kingdom. To our east, the king suffers from a lack of strong allies. To our west, the most resource rich realms of our kingdom show disrespect to our king. All across the realm, there is talk of rebellion, fighting and famine. Men like us need to stick together, Lord Anatoli. For our king and our honour".
Arseni paused and looked up, "Is this true?, He asked Vassily, "Are there Lords that have refused to respect our great king"?
"I fear so, My Lord", Vassily told him.
Arseni continued reading, "With that in mind, you have something I want, and I beleive I have something you might like. I will not waste any more of your valuable time with rhetoric.

I need lumber to improve our infrastructure in order to make the land more exploitable down here. With an imrproved means of extraction, I can grow more food and extract more iron from the earth, meaning that our reliance on the goods of our fellow lords to the west for goods will be reduced".
"This is a great idea!", Arseni said to Vassily, "We would help to make the kingdom grow more prosperous". Before receiving a reply, he continued to read, "For that lumber, I can offer you many things. Peat for burning in the winter, rice, sugarcane, good quality papyrus paper and, most importantly, a warm water port not far from the capital.

You are a very wise man, Lord Anatoli. I know you know that you can trust me in this matter.

Gods save the King.

Your friend, Lord Davith of Grond, Lord of the Realm of Tikkemund". Arseni looked up and commanded a royal scribe to write down what he was going to dictate. He thought for a while, then he began to slowly dictate a letter to Lord Davith of Grond, with the help of Vassily.

Lord Davith of Grond, Lord of the Realm Tikkemund, Friend of the King, and Friend of my Father,

I am writing to you in response to your proposal, in which you offered different goods in exchange for lumber. I would like to thank you for your generous offer, and, as the acting Lord of the Realm Tashivion, in the absence of my father, Lord Anatoli Orlov, I would like to accept your offer, and will be sending ample amounts of lumber to your Realm in exchange for Rice, Sugarcane, and Papyrus paper.

I am glad that you continue to ally yourself with our great King Elyas, long may he reign, and I hope that further trading between our two Realms may prove to be prosperous to us both.

Gods save the King,

Lord Arseni of the Realm Tashivion, in the absence of Lord Anatoli Orlov, Lord of the Realm Tashivion, and Friend of the King.

[The Praetorian Empire]

Lord Davith of Grond, Lord of the Realm Tikkemund, Friend of the King, and Friend of my Father,

I am writing to you in response to your proposal, in which you offered different goods in exchange for lumber. I would like to thank you for your generous offer, and, as the acting Lord of the Realm Tashivion, in the absence of my father, Lord Anatoli Orlov, I would like to accept your offer, and will be sending ample amounts of lumber to your Realm in exchange for Rice, Sugarcane, and Papyrus paper.

I am glad that you continue to ally yourself with our great King Elyas, long may he reign, and I hope that further trading between our two Realms may prove to be prosperous to us both.

Gods save the King,

Lord Arseni of the Realm Tashivion, in the absence of Lord Anatoli Orlov, Lord of the Realm Tashivion, and Friend of the King.

Swampcrest, capital of Tikkemund
The citadel of the Mire

As Sveter reads over the letter, he twiddles the knife he used to open it in his free hand. He passes across the balcony that runs along the side of his banquet hall, overlooking the city. Behind him stands a sombre man, very similar in appearance to Sveter. Everything from the length and colour of his hair to his red and beige robes is similar. Only the structure of his face is slightly different. Sveter heads to the balcony and places his hands on the railing, razing across the improved, but still quiet city. The canals lie stagnant, the market is fairly empty and many of the guard posts still lie deserted. If it wasn't for the goblins keeping peace on the streets and enforcing a lockdown, many people would have likely left to find better things to do. But, things are improving. He has the utmost confidence in the Magpie. Soon, his city will be great and his region will be prosperous. The first harvest of sugar and rice is being brought in soon and there is already papyrus being pressed into paper.

He pays attention in particular to what is going on just outside the city's high wooden wall, in the bogs beyond. A single large windmill is powering a machine which is helping to drain the flooded land. The peat underneath the water will be dried and boxed, and a rice, sugar or papyrus far will be built in it's place. The mangrove trees left behind will cut down and used to build waterproof houses, boats and floating bridges. There is a treasure lying out there in that swamp, and he intend to reap it for all it's worth.

"If I had know the boy would have been presiding in place of his father, i'd have offered him a worse deal." Laughs Sveter as he rattles his long nails along the banister. "Regardless, make ready the shipments. We can't let this deal fall through." The man behind him bows deeply, then turns to leave, but Sveter calls him back. "Come out here a second and look at the ramparts. Do you like what i've done with them?"

The Mire is a large castle compared to the rest of the city. Nowhere near as grand as the castles of Obbumium, but when contrasted with the rest of the town, it looks huge. There are only two ways into the city. Once involved going through an old canal which leads into the swamps and cannot be accessed without going into deep water, and the other involves ascending something known as the 'Slimy Slope' - a sloped pathway leading to the main courtyard of the castle. At the lower end, a heavy wooden gate guards it, and at the top a narrower gate with a portcullis stands. Two towers stand at either side of the slope, meaning any defender who does try and ascend the slope will be under constant fire. The rest of the castles sits on top of an elevated terrace, meaning that while it has no breachable walls, they can be scaled with the right equipment. Sveter has other tricks up his sleeve to make up for this glaring weakness, however...

[Cresadine]

Geoffrey is a little peeved that the Magpie would invite him to sit down in his own office, but he does not let it bother him.

"She has done a good job in my absence, our profits have been steady."

So the Magpie has seen the indignant absence of the Nobles as well, pitiful, those nobles dare defy a royal summons.

"So you have noticed it to. It humours me that they think this the appropriate place to put their foot down, this is simply an audit of their finances, not a call to war against some foreign power. Indeed what they have done is treacherous, and they will pay, sooner or later. So Magpie, tell me, what else have you come here for? Besides an audit of your realm's finances of course."

The intentions of the upstart lords are unknown even to the Magpie. His networks are extensive in Kingshill and Swampcrest, but outside of those cities, his guess is as good as Geoffery's. They control much of the metal extraction and the food supply of the kingdom, but they are lacking in one thing more important than either.

Men like the Magpie and Geoffrey.

"You said it yourself, there is more to this audit than meets the eye. The realm isn't exactly suffering financially. Despite the people's mixed opinions towards our king, it is my understanding that taxes are still being paid and the merchants still grow fat. I'm not entirely sure what you hoped to accomplish with this audit, but straightening out the books was certainly not it." The Magpie beings his hands up onto the table and clasps them together tightly. "Likewise, I have no intention of talking national economics today. Tikkemund is my primary concern. We lack several things that the other realms have, namely their population and their workable land. You can help us out in this regard."

He reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a letter. He opens it up and passes it to Geoffrey for him to read. "To cut a long letter short, a lot displaced peasants have been coming here to try and make a name for themselves and causing quite a ruckus at the gates, yes? Out of sheer generosity, my lord has suggested that these vagabonds be directed down to Swampcrest. We have the space and the need for them. They work the land, they bolster our population and they make us more powerful. We will, of course, require a small loan to buy equipment for dredging the swamps, hence why I brought this matter to you and not to his majesty." He leans over the table and points at the bottom of the page. "All the numbers are here. I'm sure you'll find them reasonable." He sits back down, waits and thinks. He knows that the man across from him won't possibly take his word on it's own, and he'll read through the letter first to avoid getting swindled. Then, he'll ask the most important of questions - what's in it for him?

Geoffrey reads the letter - you can never to be too cautious in this sort of situation. Everything seems in order, everything is neatly written in margins, expenses have been calculated - as a finance minister he appreciates this, however he does not see the merit in the project.

"It all seems in order - but I have to bring up a few points. Having surveyed the rabble who loiters idly outside our gates, I know that many of them are women, and many are children - people who will not be fit to work and will not survive the journey to Swampcrest. Many of the men have been kidnapped by Firemen in the night and burned at their grotesque altars. How do you plan to bring them all, for surely there is one-thousand or more and you are one, with maybe a few guards? How will you feed them all, for they are all poor and cannot pay for such a journey? What's more, I have the mind to put all these people to work here - the docks are an ongoing construction project of mine -"

He was about to continue when there was an urgent knock at the door. A page came rushing in, and whispered something in Geoffrey's ear, as he listened intently his eyes grew wider. The page then placed a letter on his desk. Still alarmed, Geoffrey read the letter. It was from his wife, she would be coming to the capital soon. But that news played only second fiddle to Geoffrey, for a crisis was to emerge.

"The King has enabled the Army of God, and commanded the people to accept Baxelheric as the one true God."

[Naturaiko]

To Madam Clara Azurose the Fair,
My dearest Clara Azurose, Tales of your beauty and hardships have reached my court due to the whispers of the courtiers and servants, and their whispers have not gone unheard. I would like to extend a formal invite to my Grand Feast in a months time to formally greet you and get to know you more, personally. Please do consider this request for it would honor me greatly to have a woman such as yourself attend this event.
-The Roses pale in comparison to your beauty, Duke Qaldor Dukalise of Shattrath and Mount Chalice

Clara mused over the letter again within the confines of her room. Thinking to herself, she wondered if the Duke thought a rose still smelled extravagant if it had set roots in a swamp for almost a decade of its life. Most men would be put off to know that even a beautiful flower could come from a place where refuse was in overabundance. For those who grew up in such places, though, a rose was just any other flower waiting to be plucked. It irritated Clara to no end the countless number of suitors in Tikkemund who pined after her even after her rejection; it was just as equally insulting for gentleman from other regions be snobbish towards her simply from where she was fostered. Had she grown up in her birthplace of Iglortha, though, her circumstances would have improved tenfold.

Her thoughts turned from that to the Duke himself. If the rumors were right, he had known trouble just as much as she; her heart reacted to hardship in the letter, and had it been form anyone else the letter would've ended up in the fireplace. But the Duke spoke from the heart, and seemed to be of a good stock, or so Tiana and Serena, Clara's handmaidens, told her.
Perhaps this was her chance, she thought silently to herself, while outside the night drove on slowly.

She decided that it was an opportunity to take, and one that her friend Sveter should get involved with as well.

[The Praetorian Empire]

The intentions of the upstart lords are unknown even to the Magpie. His networks are extensive in Kingshill and Swampcrest, but outside of those cities, his guess is as good as Geoffery's. They control much of the metal extraction and the food supply of the kingdom, but they are lacking in one thing more important than either.

Men like the Magpie and Geoffrey.

"You said it yourself, there is more to this audit than meets the eye. The realm isn't exactly suffering financially. Despite the people's mixed opinions towards our king, it is my understanding that taxes are still being paid and the merchants still grow fat. I'm not entirely sure what you hoped to accomplish with this audit, but straightening out the books was certainly not it." The Magpie beings his hands up onto the table and clasps them together tightly. "Likewise, I have no intention of talking national economics today. Tikkemund is my primary concern. We lack several things that the other realms have, namely their population and their workable land. You can help us out in this regard."

He reaches into the pocket of his coat and pulls out a letter. He opens it up and passes it to Geoffrey for him to read. "To cut a long letter short, a lot displaced peasants have been coming here to try and make a name for themselves and causing quite a ruckus at the gates, yes? Out of sheer generosity, my lord has suggested that these vagabonds be directed down to Swampcrest. We have the space and the need for them. They work the land, they bolster our population and they make us more powerful. We will, of course, require a small loan to buy equipment for dredging the swamps, hence why I brought this matter to you and not to his majesty." He leans over the table and points at the bottom of the page. "All the numbers are here. I'm sure you'll find them reasonable." He sits back down, waits and thinks. He knows that the man across from him won't possibly take his word on it's own, and he'll read through the letter first to avoid getting swindled. Then, he'll ask the most important of questions - what's in it for him?

Geoffrey reads the letter - you can never to be too cautious in this sort of situation. Everything seems in order, everything is neatly written in margins, expenses have been calculated - as a finance minister he appreciates this, however he does not see the merit in the project.

"It all seems in order - but I have to bring up a few points. Having surveyed the rabble who loiters idly outside our gates, I know that many of them are women, and many are children - people who will not be fit to work and will not survive the journey to Swampcrest. Many of the men have been kidnapped by Firemen in the night and burned at their grotesque altars. How do you plan to bring them all, for surely there is one-thousand or more and you are one, with maybe a few guards? How will you feed them all, for they are all poor and cannot pay for such a journey? What's more, I have the mind to put all these people to work here - the docks are an ongoing construction project of mine -"

He was about to continue when there was an urgent knock at the door. A page came rushing in, and whispered something in Geoffrey's ear, as he listened intently his eyes grew wider. The page then placed a letter on his desk. Still alarmed, Geoffrey read the letter. It was from his wife, she would be coming to the capital soon. But that news played only second fiddle to Geoffrey, for a crisis was to emerge.

"The King has enabled the Army of God, and commanded the people to accept Baxelheric as the one true God."

The Magpie sat patiently as the page brought his message. He needed the time to think, as the points Geoffrey raised were valid. A woman can wield a shovel as well as a man, but their children proved a problem, and many of them were ill and hungry from the journey. Even if they did make to Tikkemund, the swamp air, rich with rot and malaria-ridden insects would be the death of them. He had to bring back serfs, not people. Workers, not mothers. Unlike Sveter, he had a conscience, and he couldn't willingly march so many to their death... not without a good cause.

He listened carefully, and even after Geoffrey explained the situation, he let the silence build for a few more seconds. "It seems to me that this city just become very unsafe." He says, his gaze slowly turning down to the later, his face beginning to lose what little colour it had. "Men like you and I are hardly known for our piety, Lord Geoffrey. I have no doubt the inquisitors eyes will be upon us soon enough. No wealth or title will be safe." He runs his knuckles nervously, but in his head he is crunching numbers furiously, looking for a profit in this. "... even the poor... the landless."

His eyes flash back up to Geoffrey, filled with cunning. "It might be necessary for men like you and I to leave this city. To somewhere far away. With a whole bay and a swamp between us and the Army of God." He leans forward slightly, licking his lips. The excitement is getting the better of him. "People will be scared, Geoffrey. They would follow us to the ends of the world to get away from what is going to come. To Tikkemund, to Iglortha, to anywhere but here. Hell is coming. We must be prepared." The Magpie stands up and puts on his coat. "I'm not saying we should leave now. I'm not saying that we should be organizing an exodus. But, we have to be prepared. A lot of people could die." He puts up his hood and heads for the door, pausing before he opens it. "I'll be in the city for another day or two, getting my affairs together. Look for one of my children if you need to find me." With that, he leaves quickly, blending into the streets. He has done all he can to try and salvage this situation, but for now, he has things to attend to that are much more pressing to him than petty politics.

[United Human Planets]

Tyrus Willun, Lord of The Twin Reaches

Tyrus strode down the hallway behind one of Lord Millers servants. The meeting had been adjourned, much to his relief, as he had to write to his wife. He hadnt been able to send any letters while he was on the road, and was worried about how his family was doing. Not many knew it, but behind the angry and grating personality that the Lord showed to most, he had an almost unending supply of affection for his family. The servant stopped about halfway down one of the many halls, and opened a door for him. "Your room, my lord," he said, bowing slightly. Tyrus didn't say anything, just simply nodded slightly, before closing the door. His room was fairly small, with a bed, a desk and a fireplace. It wasn't what he was used to, but it would do for him. He moved to his desk, and sat down to write a letter. When he was done, he folded the letter, placed his seal on it, and went to the door to send the letter.

Tyrus walked around the halls a while, until he came across a servant. "You," he said, and the servant turned to face him. "Do you know where the pigeons are kept?"

"Yes sir," replied the servant, "If you would like, I could take your letter for you. Im sure that you must have more important things to do than send letters."

"No, I would rather send it myself. If you show me where it is, Im sure I could find it on my own. Gives me other things to do than mull over whatever ridiculous affront one noble has given to another." At least the other lords in the castle and I agree on one thing, he thought. He didnt know how he felt about their company, but he felt they were great allies to have.

The servant nodded his head, before pointing down the hall and saying, "If you head down that hallway, and climb the stair on the right, you'll come to a doorway. Just open it, and the coop will be right there."

"Thank you." Said Tyrus simply, before setting off down the hallway. He followed the servants instructions, and was soon at the pigeon coop. He opened the door, and pulled out the healthiest bird he could find, before tying the letter to its leg and letting it fly. He turned around, and headed back to his room.

When he returned, he found one of his servants who had accompanied him to Honnybarrow outside the door, turning the leave after slipping something under the door. "What was that," he said to his servant, a young woman named Lilla.

"A letter sir," she said. "It came for you while you were in the meeting with the other lords. I believe it is from one of your vassals."

"Hmm," said Tyrus. "I imagine that that is what you slipped under my door?"

"Yes sir," she said, lowering her eyes to the ground. Tyrus watched her for a second, before speaking again.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what sir?" she said, not raising her head.

"Why did you look at the ground? All I did was ask you a simple question, and you acted as if I had accused you of something."

"Im sorry sir," she said.

"Dont be sorry girl, you are becoming ashamed at nothing." Tyrus examined her. She seemed a bit more disheveled than most servants were. He didnt know her well, but he recalled seeing her around his castle before. She was a clumsy girl. "Lift you head up," he said, "dont lower your eyes like that. Just because someone is a higher position than you in life, does not mean you are not equal. It will get you farther if you treat everyone that way, regardless of their titles."

Lilla raised her head again, and looked him in the eye. She seemed a little uncomfortable, but appreciative at the same time. She didnt say anything to Tyrus.

"Are you going to move?" He asked, "Or are you going to stand in front of my doorway all night?"

"Oh, Im sorry sir, I didnt realise." She quickly moved out of his way, and stepped to the side.

"Mmm hmm." Tyrus opened the door, and stepped about halfway in before looking back at Lilla, who was still watching him. "Well," he said, "Get on then, I dont have anything else to say to you. Do whatever it is servants do in their spare time." He then closed the door in Lillas face. She stood there a second, not really sure what to make of her interaction with Lord Tyrus, before turning on her heal and hurrying off down the hall.

Tyrus stooped and picked up the letter. He brought it over to his desk, and opened it.

My Lord Tyrus Willun, I hope this letter finds you in good health

My King, the people of Shattrath pray this letter finds you and your family in good health and happiness. I would like to request that you, your family, and all the nobles of the court with their families join me in Fort Shattrath for a Grand Feast! We shall engage in many festivities and I also hope to find a Noble Woman to take as my Bride. Along with this I wish to discuss some political matters with you and some of the other nobles. If the whispers are true and we are gearing to go to War, then I believe we shall enjoy merriment and the fellowship of our fellow countrymen before we head into the heat of battle. A Grand Feast before a Grand War seems only fitting for the history books does it not? I do hope you can make it here in a months time.
-May your reign be prosperous and uncontested, Duke Qaldor Dukalise of the Duchy of Shattrath and Mount Chalice

Similar letters were also sent out to the other nobles of the nation to join me at my grand feast in a months time.

Tyrus sat back and considered the letter for a second, before pulling a pen from the little divot at the end of his desk, and a sheet of paper in the basket by his feet.

Qaldor Dukalise
I would be honored to see myself at your tables for the feast. I am not in my holdings at the time of this letter, but at Honnybarrow, planning for war, if it should come to that. I should however return within the month, and then would be glad to bring me and my family to your house. I beleive that it is good course to know ones vassals, and I see this as a prime opportunity to do just that. If all goes well where I am, I should be able to come to you holding within a 2 week period.

Tyrus Willun, Lord of The Twin Reaches.

Tyrus placed the pen back where he found it, before folding the letter. He heated some wax, and place his seal, before moving to the door again. He opened it, and set off down the halls to send his second letter that night.

(OOC: Just a heads up to you Gerdon, my character is actually a lord. Not a big deal, but thought I would clear that up. )

[Albertae]

(Image)
Tyrus Willun, Lord of The Twin Reaches

Tyrus strode down the hallway behind one of Lord Millers servants. The meeting had been adjourned, much to his relief, as he had to write to his wife. He hadnt been able to send any letters while he was on the road, and was worried about how his family was doing. Not many knew it, but behind the angry and grating personality that the Lord showed to most, he had an almost unending supply of affection for his family. The servant stopped about halfway down one of the many halls, and opened a door for him. "Your room, my lord," he said, bowing slightly. Tyrus didn't say anything, just simply nodded slightly, before closing the door. His room was fairly small, with a bed, a desk and a fireplace. It wasn't what he was used to, but it would do for him. He moved to his desk, and sat down to write a letter. When he was done, he folded the letter, placed his seal on it, and went to the door to send the letter.

Tyrus walked around the halls a while, until he came across a servant. "You," he said, and the servant turned to face him. "Do you know where the pigeons are kept?"

"Yes sir," replied the servant, "If you would like, I could take your letter for you. Im sure that you must have more important things to do than send letters."

"No, I would rather send it myself. If you show me where it is, Im sure I could find it on my own. Gives me other things to do than mull over whatever ridiculous affront one noble has given to another." At least the other lords in the castle and I agree on one thing, he thought. He didnt know how he felt about their company, but he felt they were great allies to have.

The servant nodded his head, before pointing down the hall and saying, "If you head down that hallway, and climb the stair on the right, you'll come to a doorway. Just open it, and the coop will be right there."

"Thank you." Said Tyrus simply, before setting off down the hallway. He followed the servants instructions, and was soon at the pigeon coop. He opened the door, and pulled out the healthiest bird he could find, before tying the letter to its leg and letting it fly. He turned around, and headed back to his room.

When he returned, he found one of his servants who had accompanied him to Honnybarrow outside the door, turning the leave after slipping something under the door. "What was that," he said to his servant, a young woman named Lilla.

"A letter sir," she said. "It came for you while you were in the meeting with the other lords. I believe it is from one of your vassals."

"Hmm," said Tyrus. "I imagine that that is what you slipped under my door?"

"Yes sir," she said, lowering her eyes to the ground. Tyrus watched her for a second, before speaking again.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what sir?" she said, not raising her head.

"Why did you look at the ground? All I did was ask you a simple question, and you acted as if I had accused you of something."

"Im sorry sir," she said.

"Dont be sorry girl, you are becoming ashamed at nothing." Tyrus examined her. She seemed a bit more disheveled than most servants were. He didnt know her well, but he recalled seeing her around his castle before. She was a clumsy girl. "Lift you head up," he said, "dont lower your eyes like that. Just because someone is a higher position than you in life, does not mean you are not equal. It will get you farther if you treat everyone that way, regardless of their titles."

Lilla raised her head again, and looked him in the eye. She seemed a little uncomfortable, but appreciative at the same time. She didnt say anything to Tyrus.

"Are you going to move?" He asked, "Or are you going to stand in front of my doorway all night?"

"Oh, Im sorry sir, I didnt realise." She quickly moved out of his way, and stepped to the side.

"Mmm hmm." Tyrus opened the door, and stepped about halfway in before looking back at Lilla, who was still watching him. "Well," he said, "Get on then, I dont have anything else to say to you. Do whatever it is servants do in their spare time." He then closed the door in Lillas face. She stood there a second, not really sure what to make of her interaction with Lord Tyrus, before turning on her heal and hurrying off down the hall.

Tyrus stooped and picked up the letter. He brought it over to his desk, and opened it.

My Lord Tyrus Willun, I hope this letter finds you in good health

My King, the people of Shattrath pray this letter finds you and your family in good health and happiness. I would like to request that you, your family, and all the nobles of the court with their families join me in Fort Shattrath for a Grand Feast! We shall engage in many festivities and I also hope to find a Noble Woman to take as my Bride. Along with this I wish to discuss some political matters with you and some of the other nobles. If the whispers are true and we are gearing to go to War, then I believe we shall enjoy merriment and the fellowship of our fellow countrymen before we head into the heat of battle. A Grand Feast before a Grand War seems only fitting for the history books does it not? I do hope you can make it here in a months time.
-May your reign be prosperous and uncontested, Duke Qaldor Dukalise of the Duchy of Shattrath and Mount Chalice

Similar letters were also sent out to the other nobles of the nation to join me at my grand feast in a months time.

Tyrus sat back and considered the letter for a second, before pulling a pen from the little divot at the end of his desk, and a sheet of paper in the basket by his feet.

Qaldor Dukalise
I would be honored to see myself at your tables for the feast. I am not in my holdings at the time of this letter, but at Honnybarrow, planning for war, if it should come to that. I should however return within the month, and then would be glad to bring me and my family to your house. I beleive that it is good course to know ones vassals, and I see this as a prime opportunity to do just that. If all goes well where I am, I should be able to come to you holding within a 2 week period.

Tyrus Willun, Lord of The Twin Reaches.

Tyrus placed the pen back where he found it, before folding the letter. He heated some wax, and place his seal, before moving to the door again. He opened it, and set off down the halls to send his second letter that night.

(OOC: Just a heads up to you Gerdon, my character is actually a lord. Not a big deal, but thought I would clear that up. )

The Next Morning
Dining Room

Lord Miller: Servants please go and awake the other Lord's I wish to speak to them about something tonight something grand that I've prepared. For now get the rest of breakfast ready make it a small but, not low class. They will need the space for later.

Later that Evening
Grand Feast

Lord Miller: Let us sign this Pact of Unity and become an alliance!


Pact of Unity

Signed, Lord of Iglothra, Frederick Miller
Signed, Lord of Obbuninium, Ethor Bergussøn
Signed, Lord of Laesosphere, Tyrus Willun

[United Human Planets]

(Image)
Tyrus Willun, Lord of The Twin Reaches

Tyrus strode down the hallway behind one of Lord Millers servants. The meeting had been adjourned, much to his relief, as he had to write to his wife. He hadnt been able to send any letters while he was on the road, and was worried about how his family was doing. Not many knew it, but behind the angry and grating personality that the Lord showed to most, he had an almost unending supply of affection for his family. The servant stopped about halfway down one of the many halls, and opened a door for him. "Your room, my lord," he said, bowing slightly. Tyrus didn't say anything, just simply nodded slightly, before closing the door. His room was fairly small, with a bed, a desk and a fireplace. It wasn't what he was used to, but it would do for him. He moved to his desk, and sat down to write a letter. When he was done, he folded the letter, placed his seal on it, and went to the door to send the letter.

Tyrus walked around the halls a while, until he came across a servant. "You," he said, and the servant turned to face him. "Do you know where the pigeons are kept?"

"Yes sir," replied the servant, "If you would like, I could take your letter for you. Im sure that you must have more important things to do than send letters."

"No, I would rather send it myself. If you show me where it is, Im sure I could find it on my own. Gives me other things to do than mull over whatever ridiculous affront one noble has given to another." At least the other lords in the castle and I agree on one thing, he thought. He didnt know how he felt about their company, but he felt they were great allies to have.

The servant nodded his head, before pointing down the hall and saying, "If you head down that hallway, and climb the stair on the right, you'll come to a doorway. Just open it, and the coop will be right there."

"Thank you." Said Tyrus simply, before setting off down the hallway. He followed the servants instructions, and was soon at the pigeon coop. He opened the door, and pulled out the healthiest bird he could find, before tying the letter to its leg and letting it fly. He turned around, and headed back to his room.

When he returned, he found one of his servants who had accompanied him to Honnybarrow outside the door, turning the leave after slipping something under the door. "What was that," he said to his servant, a young woman named Lilla.

"A letter sir," she said. "It came for you while you were in the meeting with the other lords. I believe it is from one of your vassals."

"Hmm," said Tyrus. "I imagine that that is what you slipped under my door?"

"Yes sir," she said, lowering her eyes to the ground. Tyrus watched her for a second, before speaking again.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what sir?" she said, not raising her head.

"Why did you look at the ground? All I did was ask you a simple question, and you acted as if I had accused you of something."

"Im sorry sir," she said.

"Dont be sorry girl, you are becoming ashamed at nothing." Tyrus examined her. She seemed a bit more disheveled than most servants were. He didnt know her well, but he recalled seeing her around his castle before. She was a clumsy girl. "Lift you head up," he said, "dont lower your eyes like that. Just because someone is a higher position than you in life, does not mean you are not equal. It will get you farther if you treat everyone that way, regardless of their titles."

Lilla raised her head again, and looked him in the eye. She seemed a little uncomfortable, but appreciative at the same time. She didnt say anything to Tyrus.

"Are you going to move?" He asked, "Or are you going to stand in front of my doorway all night?"

"Oh, Im sorry sir, I didnt realise." She quickly moved out of his way, and stepped to the side.

"Mmm hmm." Tyrus opened the door, and stepped about halfway in before looking back at Lilla, who was still watching him. "Well," he said, "Get on then, I dont have anything else to say to you. Do whatever it is servants do in their spare time." He then closed the door in Lillas face. She stood there a second, not really sure what to make of her interaction with Lord Tyrus, before turning on her heal and hurrying off down the hall.

Tyrus stooped and picked up the letter. He brought it over to his desk, and opened it.




Tyrus sat back and considered the letter for a second, before pulling a pen from the little divot at the end of his desk, and a sheet of paper in the basket by his feet.

Qaldor Dukalise
I would be honored to see myself at your tables for the feast. I am not in my holdings at the time of this letter, but at Honnybarrow, planning for war, if it should come to that. I should however return within the month, and then would be glad to bring me and my family to your house. I beleive that it is good course to know ones vassals, and I see this as a prime opportunity to do just that. If all goes well where I am, I should be able to come to you holding within a 2 week period.

Tyrus Willun, Lord of The Twin Reaches.

Tyrus placed the pen back where he found it, before folding the letter. He heated some wax, and place his seal, before moving to the door again. He opened it, and set off down the halls to send his second letter that night.

(OOC: Just a heads up to you Gerdon, my character is actually a lord. Not a big deal, but thought I would clear that up. )

The Next Morning
Dining Room

Lord Miller: Servants please go and awake the other Lord's I wish to speak to them about something tonight something grand that I've prepared. For now get the rest of breakfast ready make it a small but, not low class. They will need the space for later.

Later that Evening
Grand Feast

Lord Miller: Let us sign this Pact of Unity and become an alliance!


Pact of Unity

Signed, Lord of Iglothra, Frederick Miller
Signed, Tyrus Willun. Lord of The Twin Reaches
Signed, [Signature here]

Tyrus looked over the sheeet of paper, before taking up his pen, and writing his name. He then put the pen back down, and stepped back.

[Amuaplye]

(Image)
Tyrus Willun, Lord of The Twin Reaches

Tyrus strode down the hallway behind one of Lord Millers servants. The meeting had been adjourned, much to his relief, as he had to write to his wife. He hadnt been able to send any letters while he was on the road, and was worried about how his family was doing. Not many knew it, but behind the angry and grating personality that the Lord showed to most, he had an almost unending supply of affection for his family. The servant stopped about halfway down one of the many halls, and opened a door for him. "Your room, my lord," he said, bowing slightly. Tyrus didn't say anything, just simply nodded slightly, before closing the door. His room was fairly small, with a bed, a desk and a fireplace. It wasn't what he was used to, but it would do for him. He moved to his desk, and sat down to write a letter. When he was done, he folded the letter, placed his seal on it, and went to the door to send the letter.

Tyrus walked around the halls a while, until he came across a servant. "You," he said, and the servant turned to face him. "Do you know where the pigeons are kept?"

"Yes sir," replied the servant, "If you would like, I could take your letter for you. Im sure that you must have more important things to do than send letters."

"No, I would rather send it myself. If you show me where it is, Im sure I could find it on my own. Gives me other things to do than mull over whatever ridiculous affront one noble has given to another." At least the other lords in the castle and I agree on one thing, he thought. He didnt know how he felt about their company, but he felt they were great allies to have.

The servant nodded his head, before pointing down the hall and saying, "If you head down that hallway, and climb the stair on the right, you'll come to a doorway. Just open it, and the coop will be right there."

"Thank you." Said Tyrus simply, before setting off down the hallway. He followed the servants instructions, and was soon at the pigeon coop. He opened the door, and pulled out the healthiest bird he could find, before tying the letter to its leg and letting it fly. He turned around, and headed back to his room.

When he returned, he found one of his servants who had accompanied him to Honnybarrow outside the door, turning the leave after slipping something under the door. "What was that," he said to his servant, a young woman named Lilla.

"A letter sir," she said. "It came for you while you were in the meeting with the other lords. I believe it is from one of your vassals."

"Hmm," said Tyrus. "I imagine that that is what you slipped under my door?"

"Yes sir," she said, lowering her eyes to the ground. Tyrus watched her for a second, before speaking again.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what sir?" she said, not raising her head.

"Why did you look at the ground? All I did was ask you a simple question, and you acted as if I had accused you of something."

"Im sorry sir," she said.

"Dont be sorry girl, you are becoming ashamed at nothing." Tyrus examined her. She seemed a bit more disheveled than most servants were. He didnt know her well, but he recalled seeing her around his castle before. She was a clumsy girl. "Lift you head up," he said, "dont lower your eyes like that. Just because someone is a higher position than you in life, does not mean you are not equal. It will get you farther if you treat everyone that way, regardless of their titles."

Lilla raised her head again, and looked him in the eye. She seemed a little uncomfortable, but appreciative at the same time. She didnt say anything to Tyrus.

"Are you going to move?" He asked, "Or are you going to stand in front of my doorway all night?"

"Oh, Im sorry sir, I didnt realise." She quickly moved out of his way, and stepped to the side.

"Mmm hmm." Tyrus opened the door, and stepped about halfway in before looking back at Lilla, who was still watching him. "Well," he said, "Get on then, I dont have anything else to say to you. Do whatever it is servants do in their spare time." He then closed the door in Lillas face. She stood there a second, not really sure what to make of her interaction with Lord Tyrus, before turning on her heal and hurrying off down the hall.

Tyrus stooped and picked up the letter. He brought it over to his desk, and opened it.




Tyrus sat back and considered the letter for a second, before pulling a pen from the little divot at the end of his desk, and a sheet of paper in the basket by his feet.

Qaldor Dukalise
I would be honored to see myself at your tables for the feast. I am not in my holdings at the time of this letter, but at Honnybarrow, planning for war, if it should come to that. I should however return within the month, and then would be glad to bring me and my family to your house. I beleive that it is good course to know ones vassals, and I see this as a prime opportunity to do just that. If all goes well where I am, I should be able to come to you holding within a 2 week period.

Tyrus Willun, Lord of The Twin Reaches.

Tyrus placed the pen back where he found it, before folding the letter. He heated some wax, and place his seal, before moving to the door again. He opened it, and set off down the halls to send his second letter that night.

(OOC: Just a heads up to you Gerdon, my character is actually a lord. Not a big deal, but thought I would clear that up. )

The Next Morning
Dining Room

Lord Miller: Servants please go and awake the other Lord's I wish to speak to them about something tonight something grand that I've prepared. For now get the rest of breakfast ready make it a small but, not low class. They will need the space for later.

Later that Evening
Grand Feast

Lord Miller: Let us sign this Pact of Unity and become an alliance!


Pact of Unity

Signed, Lord of Iglothra, Frederick Miller
Signed, Tyrus Willun. Lord of The Twin Reaches
Signed, Æþor Bergussøn of Obbinium.

He came downstairs, and sat himself down at the table, where he signed his name on the table. "There, I signed. Even though my loyalties might change. That is normal, a year ago I supported the king, that's when I found out he usurped the throne."