Intrigue in Court [IC]

[Carmonia]

(Image)

Kara-Knytlinga

"Yes," he had a pun up his sleeve, "One may truly say she was a cruel mistress?". From that moment, the entire universe seemed to cringe at the lousy joke he pulled off, and he thought he felt the cringing of the universe.

He chuckled. "Aye. Almost like a she-wolf....."

Tired of his conversation, Arthur headed back inside. Briskly walking down a hallway, he took off his mask. He came upon a courtyard. Throwing his mask to the side, he sat down on a bench and sighed.

[Valaran]

Nobles were damn hard to move. At least, if one was obeying proper courtesy, which Kyla was. She couldn't simply barge through people - that would create an awful image - so she had to slide past. All the same, more than one neck turned in annoyance; Kyla caught a glare behind a ferret mask. Even in a dress and the evening air, this was tiresome, and frustrating.

Its not even like Kyla was trying to get close to the Emperor as well. She might need to bide her time with him... or find someone else to ingratiate herself with. Except, she could barely see anyone. Masks was a stupid idea. Kyla would have preferred if no one was anonymous. That way, maybe everyone would be politer, and actually get out of the damn way.

"Hey, hey!"

Kyla turned in surprise. The white masked lady had called out to someone - no, to her. Kyla looked to around. No one else had responded. It must have been to her. It was just surprising, because... that wasn't a noble-like greeting. Maybe courtly manners wasn't actually the thing in Nab'eesh.

The lady required a response. Kyla curtsied as best she could - given the circumstances - and prayed that her mask didn't fall off. "Hey, uh, I mean, a pleasure to meet you." Kyla looked at her. No elaborate jewellery, or trappings of luxury. Yet there was a confidence to this person. In her stride, tone of addressal, everything. And that accent sounded... "I hope I am not mistaken, but are you from the North?" Kyla certainly hoped she wasn't mistaken, or this evening was about to get even worse.

[Maddhiya]

Nobles were damn hard to move. At least, if one was obeying proper courtesy, which Kyla was. She couldn't simply barge through people - that would create an awful image - so she had to slide past. All the same, more than one neck turned in annoyance; Kyla caught a glare behind a ferret mask. Even in a dress and the evening air, this was tiresome, and frustrating.

Its not even like Kyla was trying to get close to the Emperor as well. She might need to bide her time with him... or find someone else to ingratiate herself with. Except, she could barely see anyone. Masks was a stupid idea. Kyla would have preferred if no one was anonymous. That way, maybe everyone would be politer, and actually get out of the damn way.

"Hey, hey!"

Kyla turned in surprise. The white masked lady had called out to someone - no, to her. Kyla looked to around. No one else had responded. It must have been to her. It was just surprising, because... that wasn't a noble-like greeting. Maybe courtly manners wasn't actually the thing in Nab'eesh.

The lady required a response. Kyla curtsied as best she could - given the circumstances - and prayed that her mask didn't fall off. "Hey, uh, I mean, a pleasure to meet you." Kyla looked at her. No elaborate jewellery, or trappings of luxury. Yet there was a confidence to this person. In her stride, tone of addressal, everything. And that accent sounded... "I hope I am not mistaken, but are you from the North?" Kyla certainly hoped she wasn't mistaken, or this evening was about to get even worse.

''Yes, my blood has the strenght of the Nordmenn. Is pleasure to meet a cute lady like you but is a shame that you are quite infamous in the North since you sold most of your land to the Rimski-Kórsakov. How did you achieve that misery? Was your parents mismanagement or you are just unlucky...Mmm... you are quite pretty, i hope you won't sell your maidenhood to one of those rich bastards unless you don't have any sense of dignity. Have you heard the rumours about the lady from the Rimski-Kórsakov family? Some people say she visits the red neighbourhood because she likes to devour the maidens that reside in that dark place for a couple of silver coins... She is generous in that aspect.''

[Carmonia]

Nobles were damn hard to move. At least, if one was obeying proper courtesy, which Kyla was. She couldn't simply barge through people - that would create an awful image - so she had to slide past. All the same, more than one neck turned in annoyance; Kyla caught a glare behind a ferret mask. Even in a dress and the evening air, this was tiresome, and frustrating.

Its not even like Kyla was trying to get close to the Emperor as well. She might need to bide her time with him... or find someone else to ingratiate herself with. Except, she could barely see anyone. Masks was a stupid idea. Kyla would have preferred if no one was anonymous. That way, maybe everyone would be politer, and actually get out of the damn way.

"Hey, hey!"

Kyla turned in surprise. The white masked lady had called out to someone - no, to her. Kyla looked to around. No one else had responded. It must have been to her. It was just surprising, because... that wasn't a noble-like greeting. Maybe courtly manners wasn't actually the thing in Nab'eesh.

The lady required a response. Kyla curtsied as best she could - given the circumstances - and prayed that her mask didn't fall off. "Hey, uh, I mean, a pleasure to meet you." Kyla looked at her. No elaborate jewellery, or trappings of luxury. Yet there was a confidence to this person. In her stride, tone of addressal, everything. And that accent sounded... "I hope I am not mistaken, but are you from the North?" Kyla certainly hoped she wasn't mistaken, or this evening was about to get even worse.

''Yes, my blood has the strenght of the Nordmenn. Is pleasure to meet a cute lady like you but is a shame that you are quite infamous in the North since you sold most of your land to the Rimski-Kórsakov. How did you achieve that misery? Was your parents mismanagement or you are just unlucky...Mmm... you are quite pretty, i hope you won't sell your maidenhood to one of those rich bastards unless you don't have any sense of dignity. Have you heard the rumours about the lady from the Rimski-Kórsakov family? Some people say she visits the red neighbourhood because she likes to devour the maidens that reside in that place for a couple of silver coins... She is generous in that aspect.''

Hungry and thirsty, Arthur got up and went back into the hall. Seeing a better looking mask, he put it on. He saw a large gathering of people and wondered what the commotion was about. He strolled into the crowd, easily blending in. He stood by a masked person, by her physique a woman...

[Zelphos]

Emperor Brandon I Vixis
Blue Palace

"I'm doing fairly well, Alissa. If it were not for the death of my father, I would be dancing, laughing, and praising myself with the rest of them, but that isn't very realistic. Threats of rebellion in all the corners of my realm are troublesome to me, but these nobles... these nobles are the most troublesome of them all. Deceptive figures, all of them, all plotting on one thing or another, even you I reckon, but I suppose it is only natural to do such things in a room filled with liars." He sighed, and glanced at the direwolf that lay close to him. He was already tired of this feast, and of the bland compliments he had been receiving. Somewhere among this crowd of masked nobles, there was surely someone looking to take his life, or a group of people wanting to do so.

"Roland, do bring the Marshal, Eudon, to me, I would very much like to have a word with him." He lowered his voice, "and do keep an eye out for suspicious characters, especially in a room filled with masked men."

"Brandon..." He looked to the man bowing in front of the throne, and he smiled. "Qhe, my old friend, you have been gone for a long time. Where have you been?"

[Valaran]

''Yes, my blood has the strenght of the Nordmenn. Is pleasure to meet a cute lady like you but is a shame that you are quite infamous in the North since you sold most of your land to the Rimski-Kórsakov. How did you achieve that misery? Was your parents mismanagement or you are just unlucky...Mmm... you are quite pretty, i hope you won't sell your maidenhood to one of those rich bastards unless you don't have any sense of dignity. Have you heard the rumours about the lady from the Rimski-Kórsakov family? Some people say she visits the red neighbourhood because she likes to devour the maidens that reside in that place for a couple of silver coins... She is generous in that aspect.''

An aspect of courtly manners was being trained to show appropriate reactions. Kyla felt dam well sure the appropriate reaction here was to gasp. She nearly did gasp, half-opening her mouth, feeling an intake of air. The comments, so casually delivered, stung her. Even being told that she was pretty felt like a slap to the face.

Then Kyla's sensibilities clamped down. Her mind reasserted control. This stranger knew her, somehow. Maybe the misfortunes of the Tieren had spread far, but this Lady had instantly recognised Kyla, and somehow knew even the petty details of her situation. Ok, maybe that was still overdoing it. The Rimski-Kórskav were a famous - infamous - family, and the most prominent of Kyla's creditors. Also the most troubling.

"I... appreciate your concern." That would have to do. "But I fear you have misheard." Kyla's peered at this woman as she spoke, trying to gain some sense of her. It was hopeless, of course, he plain white mask obscured all hope of recognition. "It was not my parents who brought this on my House, and Aliava Rimski-Kórsakov has been nothing but civil." That bit was a lie, but Kyla didn't feel like saying everything at once. She wanted some level of control on the situation, even if it was pitiful.

"You also place me at a disadvantage." That was putting it mildly. "For you know all about my situation, but I know nothing of yours. Marking an accent doesn't exactly give me a window into your soul, after all." Kyla smiled meekly.

Hungry and thirsty, Arthur got up and went back into the hall. Seeing a better looking mask, he put it on. He saw a large gathering of people and wondered what the commotion was about. He strolled into the crowd, easily blending in. He stood by a masked person, by her physique a woman...

Kyla stopped speaking, for someone else had materialised behind the Northerner. A man, with a mask that didn't fit his outfit. If she was confused before, now she was completely lost. Who was this new stranger? Did her know here too? Kyla was truly out of her depth, and held back from this fresh arrival.

[The Holy Empire of Steel]

Sir Friedrich of House Uradel, Head of the Imperial Honor Guard
The Blue Palace

He hated parties with a burning passion. There were too many ways someone of ill-repute could slip by unnoticed. The addition of concealing masks to the mix wasn't appreciated that much either. It was the reason why so many of the Honor Guard were in such plain sight tonight, their brilliant golden plate mail reflecting beams of sunlight as if they were made up millions of mirrors. Their purpose wasn't exactly to stop an attack, but instead to quell any thoughts of one. Just the sight of an Honor Guard was enough for that. Friedrich smiled inwardly at the thought, his face remaining blank on the outside. Over the last year and a half,his men had earned that air of weariness in the public eye through their role in some less than peaceful breakups of public protests. It quickly became known that once the glimmer of golden armor arrived at a scene, any malcontents would be shut down. A fact that had many still viewed as unfavorable.

Something that the late Emperor Jakar Vixis VII was very fond of. Friedrich glanced around the bustle of aristocrats and nobleman and women for a moment, pushing back the growing sadness filling his heart. The late Emperor's death had caught everyone by surprise, including Friedrich, who had served the man dutifully for over two decades. Over time, a close bond had formed between the two men, as Jakar filled in a whole Friedrich's father had left after being killed on some faraway campaign. The news of the Emperor's death brought along one of the few instances the Honor Guard Captain had ever shed a tear, a fact no one but himself would ever know.

He snapped back to the ball, his attention back to a razor's edge. Friedrich would focus on nothing for the rest of the night. There was a new Emperor on the throne, and he would require Freidrich's services as much as his father had. With his mind made up, he took his place on the far left most position on the Emperor's raised platform, giving a barely noticeable nod to his personal Bodyguard, who was positioned to Brandon's immediate right. He rested a hand on the pommel of his sword, while his other clasped firmly behind his back, standing at full attention. Throughout the hall, a dozen more Honor Guards, identically garbed to Friedrich save only for a lack of crimson silk robes attached to the armor, took their places around the room, identically spaced on each side of the room.

Friedrich watched from the corner of his eye as a simply robed man clutching a leather-bound book approached the Emperor, before bowing deeply before him. Qhe "The Younger", Jakar's Royal Advisor.. Little to no threat. Most likely pledging allegiance to his new master.. He turned his attention back to the crowded ballroom, the man's blood boiling at an infuriatingly low level. Friedrich was not in favor of the calm before a battle, especially when one wasn't sure who their allies or foes were. Something was going to happen, and soon.. Friedrich just knew it..

[Valloria]

Marin II Elethan, son of Belad, of the House ca Vespicz, Duke of Vainor, Count of Megorath, Keeper of the Swans of Vexia


"Yer grace, shall you return to the stewardship?" Belgorad, the Captain of Marin's ducal guard, pulled on the reins to catch up with his liege. He bowed his head slightly as he spoke.

"I doubt he'd ask, and I would not wish to. The position aged me ten years and I was only at it for five." Marin turned to face his sworn sword. The bright sun of Vexia's capital bouncing off Belgorad's resplendent armor made Marin squint his eyes. He put his hand to his brow in an effort to block out the sun. Behind the pair were twelve guards, all in matching uniforms of plate, with double-layered mail at the joints, and underneath reinforced leather. Barbute helms with angular t-shaped opening were worn by all save Marin, who himself wore a silver shirt under a deep green doublet with silver lining atop matching knee-length knickers, all under a knee-length golden sleeved cloak. At his waist lay secured to a belt his family's ancestral sword, and atop his shoulders was a haubergeon of gold-plated steel that curved up at the ends to suspend a cape of cloth-of-gold. Before Belgorad could reply, a voice shouted ahead of them.

"Halt!"

A pair of guards stood, their halberds crossed, barring Marin's horse from crossing the drawbridge and entering the Blue Palace. Three of Marin's riders, clad in gold-plated armor dismounted their jewel-adorned horses and approached the guards. Captain Belgorad's distinct green plume waved in the slight breeze. Gods, its like a sauna in this city. No wonder everyone looks so miserable. From his white cloak, the Captain produced Marin's identification, upon the sight of which the guards withdrew their halberds and looked up at Marin.

"You are Lord Marin Elethan?" The guard on the left pointed at Marin. He looked imposingly down from atop his steed at the guards, clearing his throat.

"That I am," he intoned, a rich, deep silky voice with a pronounced noble's accent wafting across the gatehouse square. The guards moved off to the side, bowing their heads as Marin's horse sauntered past. His guards hurriedly remounted and followed him across the drawbridge. Midway across, the guards in the tower above the portcullis noticed his approach and the heavy iron bars raised allowing his passage. Several servants rushed across the courtyard to aid him in dismounting and attend his needs. Marin waved them away; he knew his way around the palace. Striding purposefully through the many winding halls of the East Wing, he approached a pair of double doors of ornate mahogany, accompanied by Belgorad and two others. Two guards stood, fully armed and armored with bascinet helms obscuring their faces.

Silently, they simultaneously opened the massive doors. Marin walked into a busy chamber full of clamoring voices, moving swiftly to the hall at the center of the behemoth Throne Room. He unfastened his haubergeon and cape, handing it to Belgorad, and walking up the shallow gradient to the steps of the throne. The ring of guardsmen parted and Marin stepped through, hiking the steep steps up to the throne. Upon reaching the first landing he drew his sword, knelt, and laid the blade across his knee. He bowed his head for a moment, then looked up at the Emperor.

"Your Grace, I have travelled here to renew my feudal obligations, to swear my sword to you, and to reaffirm my allegiance to the Empire of Vexia."

[Carmonia]

''Yes, my blood has the strenght of the Nordmenn. Is pleasure to meet a cute lady like you but is a shame that you are quite infamous in the North since you sold most of your land to the Rimski-Kórsakov. How did you achieve that misery? Was your parents mismanagement or you are just unlucky...Mmm... you are quite pretty, i hope you won't sell your maidenhood to one of those rich bastards unless you don't have any sense of dignity. Have you heard the rumours about the lady from the Rimski-Kórsakov family? Some people say she visits the red neighbourhood because she likes to devour the maidens that reside in that place for a couple of silver coins... She is generous in that aspect.''

An aspect of courtly manners was being trained to show appropriate reactions. Kyla felt dam well sure the appropriate reaction here was to gasp. She nearly did gasp, half-opening her mouth, feeling an intake of air. The comments, so casually delivered, stung her. Even being told that she was pretty felt like a slap to the face.

Then Kyla's sensibilities clamped down. Her mind reasserted control. This stranger knew her, somehow. Maybe the misfortunes of the Tieren had spread far, but this Lady had instantly recognised Kyla, and somehow knew even the petty details of her situation. Ok, maybe that was still overdoing it. The Rimski-Kórskav were a famous - infamous - family, and the most prominent of Kyla's creditors. Also the most troubling.

"I... appreciate your concern." That would have to do. "But I fear you have misheard." Kyla's peered at this woman as she spoke, trying to gain some sense of her. It was hopeless, of course, he plain white mask obscured all hope of recognition. "It was not my parents who brought this on my House, and Aliava Rimski-Kórsakov has been nothing but civil." That bit was a lie, but Kyla didn't feel like saying everything at once. She wanted some level of control on the situation, even if it was pitiful.

"You also place me at a disadvantage." That was putting it mildly. "For you know all about my situation, but I know nothing of yours. Marking an accent doesn't exactly give me a window into your soul, after all." Kyla smiled meekly.

Hungry and thirsty, Arthur got up and went back into the hall. Seeing a better looking mask, he put it on. He saw a large gathering of people and wondered what the commotion was about. He strolled into the crowd, easily blending in. He stood by a masked person, by her physique a woman...

Kyla stopped speaking, for someone else had materialised behind the Northerner. A man, with a mask that didn't fit his outfit. If she was confused before, now she was completely lost. Who was this new stranger? Did her know here too? Kyla was truly out of her depth, and held back from this fresh arrival.

He looked at her kindly, though most of his face was hidden. "Evening my Lady." He said in a noble voice. "Forgive me if I startled you. May I inquire as to your name?" He meant know harm, though he knew that his tall stature was intimidating to most. He was a knight after all and that was one of it's disadvantages...

[Maddhiya]

Poor girl

''My main source of income is no longer crops, since the plague nearly destroyed the ones that worked the land and consumed our goods, so my father have a brilliant idea... a House of Pleasure. Men, Women, beggars and nobles pay a nice amount of gold from their pockey to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. Some of nobles that are enjoying their miserables lives in my brothel would call this immoral but sadly we live in a dark world in which the survival of the fittest is the main law. I have to admit that my fortune has nothing to envy the Rimski-Kórsakov. That old and cheerful man is my business partner after all and like a hungry wolf is eating the ruined landowners consummed by the consequences of the plage. Things like honor and chivalry are now things of the past, memories of a golden era in which slaves were accustomed to work a lot. This realm is no longer ruled by fools with shiny swords, moneylenders and traders are the new owners of this era.''

[Yuzhou]

Qhe the Younger
The Blue Palace

Qhe rose from his bow, just then taking in a good look at the emperor. The man had changed much since his days as a student, turning from playful child into strong youth. Today, Qhe could tell he wore a somber, almost irritated look beneath his host's smile.

"Qhe, my old friend, you have been gone for a long time. Where have you been?", the emperor asked.

"To the Mountains of the Wind, you grace, and beyond. From Chamlek to Kardune. Across the stretch of your empire, and more. I suppose you'll want to hear all about it later.", he took the book from underneath his arms and lifted it towards the emperor, carefully eyeing both Roland and the newly noticed Friedrich Uradel. "A gift", he said, "From Baya. It details the history of that nation and their great mangrove forests. Translated by my own hand, of course. It may be the first time you read a book of mine without being assigned it."

After passing the gift off, Qhe motioned for a servant to bring a chair. He set it down off the throne platform, but still within the cleared circle for those to present themselves to the emperor, clear to the emperor's left.
He had no intention of mingling with the horde of new arrivals, ready to suck influence from the new emperor like leeches in a pond. Instead, it would be more beneficial to watch those who approached the emperor, for those would be the most brazen and the most powerful. Everyone else, he could simply watch in the crowd. It wasn't hard to spot eyes that lingered too long on the imperial throne.

Besides, it was more important that everyone knew, especially his fellow Councillors, just where Qhe sat in relation to the deep web of politics.
He may have been newly returned, but he knew most of the important others from before his departure, and it was of precedent that they see he was back.
Without loss.

It wasn't much of a moment before Lord Marin Elethan arrived in a bombardment of force and climbed his way directly in front of the emperor. He drew his sword and laid it before him, only to proclaim his allegiance right then and there.
Of course, this had all been generally expected, but Qhe couldn't help think to himself, "The emperor's guards sure are doing their valiant duty today, aren't they? Let a man get so close with a blade."

At the edge of the crowd, he could see his cat slink through the shifting shadows of the floor, ever weary at the presence of Ice nearby.

[Carmonia]

Poor girl

''My main source of income is no longer crops, since the plague nearly destroyed the ones that worked the land and consumed our goods, so my father have a brilliant idea... a House of Pleasure. Men, Women, beggars and nobles pay a nice amount of gold from their pockey to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. Some of nobles that are enjoying their miserables lives in my brothel would call this immoral but sadly we live in a dark world in which the survival of the fittest is the main law. I have to admit that my fortune has nothing to envy the Rimski-Kórsakov. That old and cheerful man is my business partner after all and like a hungry wolf is eating the ruined landowners consummed by the consequences of the plage. Things like honor and chivalry are now things of the past, memories of a golden era in which slaves were accustomed to work a lot. This realm is no longer ruled by fools with shiny swords, moneylenders and traders are the new owners of this era.''

Arthur had noticed her gaze while arguing with another partygoer. He knew she taken an interest. "My Lady, pardon me for asking, but were you the one whose eyes seemed to follow me?" He said un afraid. "I could very well be mistaken..." There seemed to be a mischievous aura about the lady, but Arthur couldn't quite figure out why.

[The Valyria Empire]

---

Prince Roland "The Emperor's Sword" of House Vixis-Greystark, Hand of the Emperor

---

Roland looked to his Emperor, nodded his head and stepped forward before he turned and looked at Ice.

"Dhìon Ìmpire" Roland spoke in old tongue of the Northmen, telling Ice to protect the Emperor while he was away. After he spoke his command he turned and entered the swirl of the crowd. Many people tried to speak to him but he remained quiet as he moved through the crowd. He had spotted Eudon going towards one of the balconies and decided to start there first. On his way he spotted many interesting people, two caught his eye specially. Two women, both of the North he could tell. He wondered how they felt about a Greystark son, the family that once ruled all of the Northern region being made into the Emperor's personal weapon and protector. Roland pushed the thoughts to the side as he continued on, as his Emperor had tasked him.

Eventually he reached the balcony, where he saw Euron who stood still, glazed towards the night sky. Roland then walked up to him, his sword hand on his pommel.

"Marshal, his Grace desires your attention at once. I am to escort you to him. If you would please follow me." Roland announced so that he might get his attention and quickly return.

[New Communist and Socialist Unions]

(Image)

---

Prince Roland "The Emperor's Sword" of House Vixis-Greystark, Hand of the Emperor

---

Roland looked to his Emperor, nodded his head and stepped forward before he turned and looked at Ice.

"Dhìon Ìmpire" Roland spoke in old tongue of the Northmen, telling Ice to protect the Emperor while he was away. After he spoke his command he turned and entered the swirl of the crowd. Many people tried to speak to him but he remained quiet as he moved through the crowd. He had spotted Eudon going towards one of the balconies and decided to start there first. On his way he spotted many interesting people, two caught his eye specially. Two women, both of the North he could tell. He wondered how they felt about a Greystark son, the family that once ruled all of the Northern region being made into the Emperor's personal weapon and protector. Roland pushed the thoughts to the side as he continued on, as his Emperor had tasked him.

Eventually he reached the balcony, where he saw Euron who stood still, glazed towards the night sky. Roland then walked up to him, his sword hand on his pommel.

"Marshal, his Grace desires your attention at once. I am to escort you to him. If you would please follow me." Roland announced so that he might get his attention and quickly return.

Kara-Knytlinga

A beautiful night sky, simply breathtaking. "What is beyond is what my descendants will explore and conquer..." He murmured to himself, then he saw that Arthur had left for the inside, and someone else was approaching, ah Roland. "Huh? Oh, greetings Sir Roland." He greeted the prince. "Oh? The emperor requires an audience with me? Of course, lead the way." He replied, following Roland as he escorted him to the emperor for a little discussion. "So, what brings you to these festering snake pits Sir Roland?" He inquired as they continued walking to the emperor's direction, all these masked faces, all the possible plotters. He could not stop being paranoid, an assassin might throw a knife to him, Roland, or even the emperor! He heightened his senses.

[The Holy Empire of Steel]

Sir Friedrich of House Uradel, Head of the Imperial Honor Guard
The Blue Palace
Freidrich remained stalwart, his helmet's opened visor allowing one a rare peek at the man's grizzled and scarred face. It remained as motionless as the rest of his form. His stoicism was legendary among the Imperial court, as he refused to allow a single emotion to appear on his face. Friedrich had quickly discovered that when dealing with the sycophantic noblemen and women of the Imperial Court, any sign of emotion would be seen as weakness, a flaw that could be exploiting by a quick tongue. It was easier this way, although, he couldn't deny the emptiness it left him sometimes.. Nevertheless, the Honor Guard Captain continued on, jusdging each passerby with extreme caution. That was when he noticed Marin II Elethan approaching with his signature swagger. Friedrich groaned inwardly. His sort were the worst kind of nobleman, always trying to one up each other in an endless sword measuring contest. At least this time, the Duke of Vainor had given the guard some advanced warning..

Marin II Elethan, son of Belad, of the House ca Vespicz, Duke of Vainor, Count of Megorath, Keeper of the Swans of Vexia
Silently, they simultaneously opened the massive doors. Marin walked into a busy chamber full of clamoring voices, moving swiftly to the hall at the center of the behemoth Throne Room. He unfastened his haubergeon and cape, handing it to Belgorad, and walking up the shallow gradient to the steps of the throne.

Friedrich unclasped his left hand from his back and made a quick motion towards a nearby Honor Guard member, who gave a curt nod before leaving his post. The Guard-Member began a slow walk in a large semi-circle, a path that would arrive behind the approaching nobleman without raising too much suspicion. The soft roar of voices would hide his clinking armor quite well. Friedrich was quite sure the Duke wouldn't do something *that* foolhardy, especially not with so much security around, but still, it had happened in the past..

The ring of guardsmen parted and Marin stepped through, hiking the steep steps up to the throne. Upon reaching the first landing he drew his sword, knelt, and laid the blade across his knee. He bowed his head for a moment, then looked up at the Emperor.

Friedrich instinctively took two steps towards the kneeling nobleman, his sword now raised halfway out of it's sheathe in a clear warning. He could feel his knuckles turning white from the iron grip on his sword, yet he didn't move any further. He knew he was more than close enough to kill the man where he knelt before he could strike the Emperor. The approaching Honor Guard was now only a few yards away from the podium, and was still parcially concealed behind the masses of people.

"Your Grace, I have travelled here to renew my feudal obligations, to swear my sword to you, and to reaffirm my allegiance to the Empire of Vexia."

Friedrich jerked his head to the left, and the approaching Honor Guard immediately broke off from his path, turning to complete his circle, and ultimately taking his position back in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Friedrich fully sheathed his blade again in an instant, quick to hide his weapon from view of both the Emperor and his Court. Nevertheless, he would not return to his original spot, instead choosing to remain where he stood as it was just that much closer to Emperor Brandon I Vixis. The fool. If he hadn't warned me previously, his head would be rolling down the steps! Curse these pompous scum! He thought darkly, his face remaining the usual blank slate as always.

[Of the Quendi]

The High Empire of Vexia
The Blue Palace, in the City of Nab'eesh
Under the Sovereignty of Brandon Vixis I

---

Prince Corineus of Alba

---

The emperor is dead. Long live the emperor. Standing silent and stoic just a few paces away from the imperial throne Prince Corineus recited the traditional proclamation announcing the demise of one sovereign and the accession of another to himself, remembering the dead emperor, contemplating the new one and the fate of the empire he had served for nearly four decades.

Having spend half his life trying to avoid the imperial court it would none the less be too much to say that Prince Corineus despised court. Yes, he had nought but contempt for the sycophants and egotists who seemed to be attracted to court like flies to feces. Yes, he found the decadence and extravaganza of court life nauseating. Yes, he longed for the simplicity of military life. Still the prince of Alba was resigned to play his part in court. To do his utmost to keep the sycophants and favorites out of power, to ensure seriousness and piety and reason would govern over frivolity, vice and greed. Maybe he had been fighting a loosing battle during most of Jakar's reign but Corineus had no regrets.

Jakar. Behind his cold, severe expression the austere prince felt a surge of emotions thinking of the late emperor. Thinking of his friend. In public Corineus never could suffer criticism of the man who had granted him high offices, honor and even a daughter to wed. But in his own innermost thoughts Corineus could not deny the truth. The emperor whose service he had entered thirteen years ago had never been quite the man Corineus remembered from his youth. Jakar had been to tolerant of sycophancy, to prone to favoritism, to indulgent towards corruption and vice. The old emperor had not been the young crown prince Corineus had loved and admired. He had become a man easily swayed by ambitious courtiers, forgetting the four graces and his imperial duties.

That Jakar had grown to be such a man and had died thus tortured Corineus and as he watched the spectacle of courtiers and nobles in the throne room with not a care in the world celebrating the accession of a new emperor while giving not a thought to the sovereign they had lost Corineus felt a fury so strong that it threatened his stoic expression and appearance. The emperor is dead, long live the emperor. Aye. But pay greater homage to the dead than the living. The accession of a new sovereign ought to be a solemn and serious occasion, not a frivolous mask ball.

Sadly Corineus seemed in disagreement with his imperial brother-in-law on that topic. A tortured look briefly broke through Corineus's stoicism as the emperor called for a celebration and even made an inappropriate jest that would have befitted a fool not an emperor. Not for the first time Corineus considered if perhaps not Jakar's demise was his cue to retire. The young emperor had many virtues, maybe more than his father, but he was a man of a very different disposition than was Corineus. Perhaps the way Corineus could best serve the new sovereign was to quietly retire and allow the young man to pick his own advisors instead of relying on his father's hand-me-downs. Respectfully observing the emperor with all due deference and submission Corineus nodded slowly. Perhaps it was best.

The prince of Alba cast a gaze at his young spouse. Princess Talia Vixis, the daughter of one emperor and sister of another, was a woman every man at court would have killed for. It was a strange irony that the one man who did not want her, and whom she most certainly didn't want, was the one who got her. It was not that Corineus didn't admire his wife. He did. It wasn't that he didn't love her, over the years he had come to develop feelings for her that one might describe by such a word. But the pair was as different as night and day. More than twenty years separated them in age but far more in personality. The princess was imperious as befitted her rank and ambitious as did not befit her sex. She was a schemer and intrigue maker, vices Corineus despised. She loved parties and dresses and all the court decadence Corineus despised. Almost everything separated the Prince and Princess of Alba. All but their children. For those Corineus was grateful. His was a dutiful wife in that regard. Five children that yet lived had she given him in the course of their twelve years together. It almost made Corineus feel justified in his all too frequent and vigorous visits in his wife's bedchamber. A blush almost colored the face of the prince. A man ought of course to love his wife and engage with some regularity in coitus carnalis in the religiously prescribed positions but the nature of his congress with his wife seemed to exceed bounds and restrictions. Who was he, Corineus, too judge the shortcomings of others when he could not himself resists his wife's distracting beauty and obvious charms.

Still he judged. Honor, Courage, Respect, Loyalty. Those where virtues that all good Vixian men, or for that matter women, ought to posses in abundance. Corineus knew he did. If he lacked in discipline, severity and temperance when it came to his wife's wiles, he most certainly did not when it came to the principle virtues. Those he had. How many else at court could say the same?

Princess Talia, who with the regal poise and grace that befitted her rank had looked upon her brother's court with detached distance, noticed her husband's eyes upon her. She turned her head slightly, eyeing Corineus curiously. A small smile graced her red lips for a moment. Then she resumed her poise. Corineus knew his wife would not be the least bit thrilled about retiring the their distant principality. She was a creature of the Nab'eeshean court. Connected and well known to all of consequence she would hate the quite, but dignified, rural life in Alba. Still retirement might be for the best, Corineus thought. What need had the new emperor of his father's old friend reminding him that of his duty.

Corineus nodded slowly to himself. Yes, it was for the best. He would offer the emperor his resignation. Talia would have to live with it. It would not be bad if she spent less time partying with nobles and courtiers and more time tending to her children. Before the next council meeting Corineus would request an audience with the emperor and offer to step aside.

Having reached his decision Corineus felt a strange mixture of emotions. Relief, yes, as expected. But also ... Regret? Surely not. Yet there was definitely a sense of sadness in his heart, the prince of Alba felt. But surely it was for Jakar and the empire not for a position he had never craved and often enough tried to shed. The prince shook his head slightly. Then he stood quiet trying to empty his mind, content to stand still as a stature until the emperor decided to retire from his court.

Corineus didn't expect the rest of court to follow his dignified example and was not disappointed. Corineus almost gasped in shock as the contemptible creature, Alissa the holder of the dishonorable office of spymaster, approached the emperor, garbed in a short dress that would have fit a woman of ill repute better than a member of the lofty court of the Vixis dynasty, and ingratiatingly spoke to the emperor as was he some common courtier, inquiring with horrendous intimacy about the emperor's feelings. Corineus's clenched his fists. Nearly two decades of his life had he given to defend the empire against its foes. He would have rather died on the battlefield than see the sacrifices of thousands of brave legionaries shamed so by the unseemly woman's sycophantic and sickeningly intimate behavior towards the illustrious sovereign of the glorious House Vixis. Had he been a man of less self-control Corineus could have wept for the honor of the empire. But he did not. Instead he eyed the despicable woman with contempt in his eyes. If the emperor in his youth had need of a friend that was nothing for which he could be blamed. But that the harlot would so openly flaunt her influence that was unforgivable.

The spymaster was but the first of a long line of revolting sycophants to come uninvited before the emperor to ingratiate themselves. She was without a doubt the vilest of the lot but Qhe the Younger, to whose credit it had to be said that his tutoring of the emperor seemed to have yielded good results, wasted no time to speak to the emperor without being spoken to. Corineus flinched as the emperor indulged in conversation with both his spymaster and his tutor. Was that what was in store for the Vexian court he wondered? Sycophantic creatures chatting up the emperor with their frivolous talk while the empire was threatened by rebellion on all fronts. Corineus made a choice right then and there. He would not retire. He would not go quietly to Alba and let people like the harlot spymaster and the imperial tutor run amok in Nab'eesh. No Corineus would stay and fight their toxic influence. The emperor had great promise and Corineus would be damned if he would let sycophants spoil what could be a great man and a great ruler. The empire needed him, Corineus concluded, to remain at court and to the best of his abilities help Brandon I become a greater sovereign than his father had been. Corineus owed that to Jakar, to the empire, and to the Graces. He would not fail.

Thus determined Corineus gave a curt nod to Roland Vixis-Greystark, the emperor's bodyguard as he left to find the marshall. It would be an exaggeration to say that Corineus liked the strange northerner but compared to the likes of Alissa d'Este and Qhe the Younger the man was a paragon of virtue. His able devotion to the protection of the emperor also had to be respected. Plus he didn't speak out of turn but rather seemed like a man of few words. Court needed more of those. Badly. While the northerners departed Corineus reached an unpleasant conclusion. His commitment to aiding the emperor resist the sycophants and be the best sovereign he could be, Corineus would need allies. That meant engaging in the sordid game that the likes of Alissa d'Este and Qhe the Younger excelled in and reveled in playing. It was not fitting for a good man, a noble one at that, to engage in such unseemly activities but for the sake of the empire Corineus might have to identify the less shameful courtiers and form some form of alliance. The prospect was revolting, but perhaps a necessary one. Retirement never felt so tempting. The steward cast a last gaze at the departing Roland Vixis-Greystark. Was the man a worthy ally, someone Corineus could trust to serve the empire and emperor over own ambition and greed? Perhaps, then again perhaps not.

A vassal of the emperor, the Duke of Vainer, approached the imperial throne. The duke promptly followed in the footsteps of the spymaster and the royal advisor by speaking to the emperor without being spoken to. Unforgivable as that was at least the man refrained from the displays of familiarity that the two courtiers displayed and respectfully pledged his allegiance. With the state of the Vexian court one might have to call a man like that courteous. Corineus sighed. He had his work cut out for him to restore virtue to a virtueless court.

The prince of Alba stood motionless as a state and just as silent. Rigidly at attention, garbed in the military uniform of a general of the legions, he contemplated the future of the empire and made a silent solemn promise to the memory of his friend and sovereign Jakar Vixis VI that he would do his utmost to restore the court.

[The Valyria Empire]

---

Prince Roland "The Emperor's Sword" of House Vixis-Greystark, Hand of the Emperor

---

Snakes, snakes everywhere. They slithered around him as he continued to the Emperor, the Marshal followed behind. Every step he had to avoid being constricted by any of the snakes that he was surrounded by. Suddenly Roland was brought back, the Marshal had asked a question. Roland listened as the man spoke, and Roland remained quiet at first, but eventually responded.

"Marshal, you should know why I am here. I am the Emperor's Hand, and I do as he commands." Roland spoke as the two eventually reached the Throne. As he walked towards his previous position, which would allow for someone to announce the Marshal's arrival. As Roland returned to the Emperor's side he gazed over at Prince Corineus then to Princess Talia, his beloved.

Once Roland saw Talia's beauty, his heart ached, a pain he had not felt in some time. Then Roland did the unthinkable, he closed his eyes so that he could escape from this pain just for a minute. Roland could see it once more, the Vixis Family Keep. He remembered the warm fields in the summer, he could see a girl and a boy running together. They laughed, and eventually the girl tackled the boy to the ground, where they would share their first kiss. Suddenly it flashed to winter, they were older as they sat in front of the fire, they kissed once more before girl spoke something, and as she continued speaking tears would fall from her eyes then the boy's.

Finally, once more Roland flashed forward, he could hear bells ringing. He saw the boy, now a man in white knight armor stand in front of the girl, now a woman. She wore a dress that was so beautiful, yet it represented so much pain. The man had been tasked to watch over her, just for one day as his friend allowed him this once. The two spoke, a few tears fell and embraced one last time before the man would have to escort her to her husband.

Something then nudged Roland's leg, then again and suddenly Roland opened his eyes. A minute had passed but it seemed like a lifetime. He looked down to see Ice had noticed Roland's distraught and had been distracted. Roland placed his hand on to Ice's head and rubbed his ear for a second. He then placed his hand back on his sword pommel, his duties and oaths came back to him once.

As Roland resumed his proper posture and poise he felt something on his cheek. It was wet, and then it slowly dripped down and fell from his face. Roland's grip on the pommel increased as he allowed himself to show weakness in front of his Emperor, in front of the court. If Henri Iago Lotharsson saw this shameful act he would of beaten Roland.

I am the Emperor's Sword, his Shield and his Hand. My life is forfeit before the Emperor, the Emperor is my voice and mind. Without the Emperor I am nothing, without me the Emperor is vulnerable. I am to earn no glory, take no wives, father no children. By the Emperor's Will, I strike, I act, I live. Roland spoke in his mind, he had to recite his entire oath after he allowed his emotions to get the better of him.

[New Communist and Socialist Unions]

Kara-Knytlinga

"Heh, too damn right mate," he replied to Roland, "Gotta slice the heads of snakes...". He then saw that Roland felt something as he saw Talia. Many emotions seemed to wage war inside the Emperor's Sword. He just sighed and patted him on the back slowly. He too closed his eyes, but instead of going to his memories, he dipped himself into the deep pool of black that was inside his mind. It calmed him often, pretending to dip himself into a black pool in the far reaches of the sky, beyond the mountains, on the clouds.

He opened his eyes a few moments before Roland did, an atmosphere of calm descended upon him like a cold calm breeze blowing into his face. Mighty nice was the feeling, and a slight smile was growing on his face. "Ah, absolutely refreshing." He thought to himself as he sighed once more.

Same could not be said for Roland though, as he seemed do be emotionally disgruntled, and was on the verge of tears. "Excuse me my liege." He said to the emperor as he went to Roland. "I am not my father, so go dump that bucket somewhere private son, you'll need it.". He would then go back to be in front of the emperor. "So, you wanted to see me my liege?" He inquired.

There were snakes everywhere, and he would cut their heads off as needed. Death to all traitorous bastards in here room, a good policy.

[Maddhiya]

Naughty Knight

''You're so hot, teasing me is an offence I can tolerate since i'm so generous and apathic. So you're blue due rejection, interesting... But I can't take a chance on a low ranked knight like you. That's something I couldn't do even if I want to. There's lust in your eyes and I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild. Ah, but boy you're only an inmature child that only wants some action. Well I can dance with you honey, If you think it's funny but does your mother know that you're out? My dear friend here can chat with you, flirt a little maybe but I beg you to slow down a little, luckily we are not in one of my brothels. I can see what you want but you seem pretty young and poor to be searching for that kind of fun, so maybe I'm not the one. I have to admit that like your style but there is a huge difference of status between you and me''

[Greater Slavic Union]

The High Empire of Vexia
The Blue Palace, in the City of Nab'eesh
Under the Sovereignty of Brandon Vixis I

---

King Michal Mávrimov of Žeřičkov

---

The wind had been rather strong in those days of travel from the castle to the capitol, and Michal remembered it. He could remember each single minute under that wind, riding his horse with that fresh air running all through his hair. It had been a really wonderful emotion, one he could not feel in a very long time. At least, not this way. Years of hostilities, with his kingdom always on the brink of war, had been rather bad for him. Obviously, no war had really become a thing, but it was always very close to be so.

For one moment, thinking about the past had been stealing Michal's mind from what really mattered: the coronation.
He had not arrived at the court yet, as he was still riding though the streets of the city, through both big ones and narrow ones. This was not the first time he was in the capitol, tho, nor was it the first time he would have met the Emperor: two times had he been in the Capitol before, and the current Emperor had attended Michal's own coronation, eight years ago. That had been a wonderful day, and a good friendship had been established between Michal and Brandon, something which, someday, somehow, would have paid back.

He dismounted from his horse, which he had given the name Ján, and gave it to a man so the animal could have been taken care of. So did his six guards, and they all proceded, after having paid the man. "That was a really high price, Your Highness, wasn't it?" one of the guards asked Michal.
"It was worth it. I personally know that man, Karáček, and I can tell you he will take very good care of our horses, don't worry." the King answered.
"If You say so, I believe You, my King." said the guard.

Walking fastly and smoothly, they soon arrived at the Blue Palace. It was the Capitol's jewel. Only the Red Castle in Žeřičkov was able to stand toe-to-toe with the Blue Palace, but nobody would have ever admitted the Red Castle was better, as it may have even be percieved as somewhat insulting to the Imperial Family. People in Žeřičkov had no doubts at all, though: the Red Castle was way better than the Blue Palace.
He entered the doors, earlier than expected. And there, among many other people, waited. Actually, he decide to walk right to the right side of Brandon, the Emperor.

After quite a bit, finally, the doors were closed. He took a look at the Emperor, and the Emperor did the same with him. No words were said in the moment, and only their eyes met. Michal's grey eyes, and the Emperor's ones met again, after some long years. It had been a time which nobody could ever define "short" since they last saw themselves, in a feast, three years ago. Ever since, Michal had been busy expanding his Kingdom's infrastructures, making the population happier, raising the standards of living, and strengthening his grip on power. It had taken pretty a while, but it had been done.

Then, suddendly, the Emperor spoke: "My lords, my ladies, noblemen and noblewomen, servants and knights, I warmly welcome you all to my court. As a way to commemorate my coronation, I have ordered a grand feast to be prepared both in court, and in the city, which begin as the sun sets." He said, then, pointing at the court, he continued "Ensure you bring an appetite, even if you aren't looking to get fat, for this feast shall be the day we all become large."
This did not surprise Michal, yet something did, and this was the Emperor's last words... "Long may he reign."
Maybe he felt uncertain? Maybe he felt at risk? He waited a bit, and, as nobody approached the Emperor, he did. Michal still had the crown over his head, when he neared the Emperor.

"Good day, dear Emperor." said Michal bowing a bit "Or should I call Your Majesty... Brandon?" he then said, as he stood up again and smiled slightly.

[Leolucia]

Rimski-Kórsakov

I went to the big town where there is a lot of sound from the North to the city looking for a bigger crown so I put in practice my schemes and plots to satisfy the ambitions of my old father but I just make noise or I'm being attacked by the flattery of the court. Does a woman have to fight all his life, only in death to take flight to the skies? Warmongers vie to take his throne like I do but I don't need vile schemes of pathetic flattery, i've already done that and it never worked at least with the Mad Jackal who steal our cattle for to feast! No Earthly princeling mind shall take for scandalous idolatry so fake! For us their graces are only a group of whores with bad taste.

In the past, their ancestors came in their hordes; ransacking villages, taking the spoils! With nothing to lose and possessions few: Bold, sturdy, fearless and cruel! Defiant of our nature on pain of death. Draconian for their worship of devils and whores from another world. How many times did I venture forth to the extreme wilderness of the north? To subdue those whose hatred was great against temples and priests of their graced state. I remember the conversations between me and the sage of the imperial library. ''Your people was a nuisance to the Empire so the Emperor's father acted that way'', four thousand men all dead in one day, they would not renounce their heathen ways. Thirty years of campaigning consumed to subject those Pagans to the true faith, rivers flowing red with the blood of four thousand men that the Mad Jackal did behead! My take advantage of that and increased it's domains, now were are traitors to the Nordmenn cause but before that we are the masters of the North.

Those good industrious Nordmenn folk who toil out lands with oxen and yoke! Whilst Valentian women, Vulgar southerns and Imperial men dare to even glance at them! No mercy given but the only thing I can do is to say ''All hail the Empire, victory to the chosen people!''. To build a better world than even has been seen, an empire made great by deeds of great kings, i hope that man that is sitting in that throne and prays to the four whores can satisfy my expectations.

''Mmm... Give me more pear brandy. I'm thirsty''

[White Bluff]

Emperor Brandon I Vixis
Blue Palace

"I'm doing fairly well, Alissa. If it were not for the death of my father, I would be dancing, laughing, and praising myself with the rest of them, but that isn't very realistic. Threats of rebellion in all the corners of my realm are troublesome to me, but these nobles... these nobles are the most troublesome of them all. Deceptive figures, all of them, all plotting on one thing or another, even you I reckon, but I suppose it is only natural to do such things in a room filled with liars." He sighed, and glanced at the direwolf that lay close to him. He was already tired of this feast, and of the bland compliments he had been receiving. Somewhere among this crowd of masked nobles, there was surely someone looking to take his life, or a group of people wanting to do so.

"Roland, do bring the Marshal, Eudon, to me, I would very much like to have a word with him." He lowered his voice, "and do keep an eye out for suspicious chcurculates.especially in a room filled with masked men."

"Brandon..." He looked to the man bowing in front of the throne, and he smiled. "Qhe, my old friend, you have been gone for a long time. Where have you been?"

Alissa Juliana Maria

She gasped with fake shock at his accusation, "but of course. It is my job after all, to plot for you and to find plots against you. But I swear to you, I will not plot against you, I swear on my life. Well I'm going to listen to whispers and find cheats and traitors," with that she curtsies and puts on a black mask, and walks into the crowd. She slips in and out of the shadows, listening to conversations and notes rumors that curculates. Alissa knew what some people thought of her, but she didn't care, all she cared about was protecting Brandon and the Empire from external and internal threats.

[Zelphos]

Emperor Brandon I Vixis
Blue Palace

He recoiled as the lord swiftly approached him, but regained his composure as the lord spoke. He knew this man, Lord Marin, one of the wealthiest men in the Empire, a man who his father was very fond of. "Lord Marin, your presence is welcome in the capital. Consider your oath to be renewed." He nodded at the man, and then turned his attention to Roland, with the Marshal in tow. Brandon did not personally like the Marshal, he was too unpredictable, but he trusted his father chose him for a good reason.

"Marshal, I believe we need to discuss troop movements in the northern territories," He tapped his fingers on the hard surface of the throne, "I expect you to meet me in the council chambers, preferably as soon as possible. We will talk further there." He waved his hand in a dismissive manner. He sat back on the throne, and sighed. His first day being crowned and already he was unnecessarily stressing himself, thinking ahead about every person he laid eyes on. Reading people was naturally a talent he possessed, but with this many eyes on him, he was less sharp.

"Good day, dear Emperor." Brandon glanced at the direction of the voice, and watched Michal. "Or should I call Your Majesty... Brandon?"

"You may call me by my name, but do not do so in public, if you will." He smiled, and resumed staring into the abyss of masks. He was not in the mood for small talk, especially after disturbing reports of barbarian raids in the north. Truly troubling those uncivilized men in the unknown parts of the north, he had heard they acted like savages, and ate the flesh of living enemies, but he had yet to believe them. In any case, he would deal at it at a later date.

He was suddenly jolted from his thoughts as a messenger approached his throne, and bowed low. "Your Majesty, I have a report from the local garrisons." He grabbed the scroll from his hands, and feasted upon its contents. He furrowed his brow, and shook his head slightly. Peasant riots outside the city? He clenched the letter in his hands, and crumbled it. Those incompetent commanders cannot deal with peasants.

"Sir Friedrich, I have a matter that demands your attention." He handed him the crumbled message, "Peasant riots outside the city, and apparently the garrison commanders have failed to quell it. Though there is no specific reason as to why they are rioting, you and I can see that this is a problem. I'm giving you full authorization to command the garrison in Nab'eesh, and authorization to use the Honor Guard in this matter. I would also like Prince Roland to accompany you, he may be of some help. Do whatever you believe is necessary to end this swiftly."

He rose from his throne, and descended the steps. The light streaming into the chamber was no longer evident, and now the braziers kept the throneroom fairly colorful. He ignored the stares coming from the masked nobles closest to him, and disappeared into a corridor. He was overthinking his position, no doubt, but he could hardly help it. With new authority, he was the center of everyone's attention, a fact that he would to be quite unnerving. He would adjust in time, eventually, but in the meantime, he will proceed with caution, for this den of snakes is no place to be unwary.

[The Holy Empire of Steel]

Sir Friedrich Uradel
The Blue Palace

Friedrich followed the suddenly approaching messenger with his eyes with faint curiosity. Either this boy was incredibly, no.. stupidly brave, or there was a critical emergency. The late Jakar had a very stick policy on being interrupted during his parties, and many a messenger were sent away less whole than when they entered. While his policy *did* result in less interruptions, one couldn't ignore how inefficient the Court became. Turned out, when a critical event did occur, the Emperor would be the last to hear about it.

Friedrich's attention was immediately swallowed by the memory of the event that would be bitterly named "The Disaster at Zhar'lia". Intelligence at the time reported that an above average sized Hold declared themselves independent from Imperial rule, and would accept any volunteers to fight back against Imperial tyranny. The hold, located far into the eastern provinces, was now calling itself "Zhar'lia". The problem is, when news finally made it back to the Capital, the messenger was told to wait outside the Blue Palace, as Emperor Jakar VII was hosting a private ball for his most loyal aristocrats. By the time the troops were actually mobilized, the rebels had fortified their hold into an impregnable fortress, far beyond anything the Imperials could be expected to break without siege equipment.The resulting bloodbath was technically an Imperial victory, but none of the few survivors felt that they had won.. It was at that "battle" where Friedrich's own father had been killed, which resulted in the man's own promotion to the head of the Honor Guard.

He swallowed a sudden rise of bitterness, as his attention was brought back to current events. Emperor Brandon was looking straight at him expectantly, a scroll held in his outstretched arm.

Emperor Brandon I Vixis
Blue Palace
"Sir Friedrich, I have a matter that demands your attention." He handed him the crumbled message, "Peasant riots outside the city, and apparently the garrison commanders have failed to quell it. Though there is no specific reason as to why they are rioting, you and I can see that this is a problem. I'm giving you full authorization to command the garrison in Nab'eesh, and authorization to use the Honor Guard in this matter. I would also like Prince Roland to accompany you, he may be of some help. Do whatever you believe is necessary to end this swiftly."

Friedrich took the scroll and quickly read over it, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked back up at the Emperor, unblinking eyes staring hard at the boy, questioning internally if he was sure what "full authorization" meant. Friedrich clenched the scroll through a gloved fist. "Thy will be done My Liege." He said, as he bowed deeply, his smile growing ever so slightly. He rose to his full height, making a quick heel turn in the process, ending with a heavy stomp of his right metal boot. All across the hall, Honor Guards snapped to attention, their armor clanging together as one. Friedrich tilted his head towards Prince Roland, his face blank again. "We leave at once. I'm leaving two of my best to accompany the Emperor while we're away." Friedrich's voice was gruff, but otherwise non-expressive. With that said, Friedrich made his way down the raised platform, immediately flanked on both his left and right by four Golden-clad knights. The remaining six Honor Guards in the ballroom worked their way through the mass of partying nobleman and women, gathering more than a few glares as they pushed through, ultimately creating a golden line in front of the Emperor's raised platform.

He rose from his throne, and descended the steps. The light streaming into the chamber was no longer evident, and now the braziers kept the throne room fairly colorful. He ignored the stares coming from the masked nobles closest to him, and disappeared into a corridor.

The Emperor would be quickly followed behind by a pair of Honor Guards, their hands resting comfortably on their sheathed swords. The soft metallic clanging of their armor eventually disappearing down the same hallway.

The group,consisting of Friedrich, Prince Roland, and four other Honor Guards pushed through the crowd, like a ship cleaves through ocean waves. It still took them at least 10 minutes to the front doors, which were immediately opened for them by local Guardsmen. Friedrich, now outside and away from the prying eyes of the Aristocracy, let out a small yawn, enjoying a light breeze that blew by. Those peasants could not have chosen a better time to revolt.. Damn sycophants, the lot of 'em. The group continued walking on, their way partially illuminated by the setting sun, it's magnificent incandescence interrupted by the many towering spires of the Capital's buildings.

Friedrich slowed his pace by a half step, so as to walk in line with Prince Roland. "I must admit, while I have done as much research as I can, I must confess I know very little about you, at least, not as a warrior." He said, his voice somewhat more friendly. He glanced towards Roland for a moment, before continuing. "I have no doubt that you have heard the.." He paused momentarily, choosing his words. "Tales, of how House Uradel deals with uprisings and the like. I need to know now if you plan on getting in our way."

Friedrich made a gesture to his left, and an Honor Guard stepped up in stride. "Bring me the Garrison Commander in charge of this mess, we'll have to discuss strategies." The Knight nodded, said "At one sir!", and broke away from the group, jogging off down a side street.

[New Communist and Socialist Unions]

Emperor Brandon I Vixis
Blue Palace
"Marshal, I believe we need to discuss troop movements in the northern territories," He tapped his fingers on the hard surface of the throne, "I expect you to meet me in the council chambers, preferably as soon as possible. We will talk further there." He waved his hand in a dismissive manner. He sat back on the throne, and sighed. His first day being crowned and already he was unnecessarily stressing himself, thinking ahead about every person he laid eyes on. Reading people was naturally a talent he possessed, but with this many eyes on him, he was less sharp.

Kara-Knytlinga

"Hmm, to deal with the barbarians most likely." He thought to himself as the emperor told him about discussing about troop movements up there. "Ah, on it your majesty." He immediately replied as the emperor told him to go to the council chambers. At a brisk pace did he walk, and eventually he would arrive at his destination. "Okay then, time to wait for the emperor." He said to himself as he sat down on his corresponding seat on the council chambers.