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Last Breath (IC/Fantasy/Open)

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Yuzhou
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Last Breath (IC/Fantasy/Open)

Postby Yuzhou » Wed May 31, 2017 1:16 pm

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Bells sang in the early morning quiet, rousing the capital to motion. Their song was one of celebration and triumph, of living history and change as it came to nations. It had only been a few weeks before that the same bells tolled in mourning.
Such bells were late heralds, as the flock of the city had already flooded around the great cathedral in anticipation for the event that was to start shortly.

Inside, the aisles were strumming with people. Most of them minor nobles and their entourages, but the closer one got to the throne propped upon a pedestal at the far end, the higher one got in rank. The whole scene was flooded by a whitish light that poured in as a product of the stain glassed windows lining the walls. Here scenes of past saints and heroes were illuminated beautifully in color. In one window flew Saint Talmon, blowing clouds of rain over a parched and dying land with his inhuman strength of air. Another showed a woman, Saint Galda, with multiple beams of light blazing from behind her as they slammed into black masses closing in. Even a window of Bartholomew the Hunter, that Drab dragon-slaying saint, sat intricately colored and assembled with him tossing a lasso in order to attach himself to a dragon breaking into flight.
This was a holy place, keep of the Lord Around for his dominion on land.

The murmuring of the crowd inside picked up as the bells died down. From the front, a man in white robes stepped forward. As he made his way down the hall, the light touched the white and turned it into shimmering glass of a thousand colors. He murmured something and stood waving an incense burner, sending snakes of smoke slithering across his path.
The audience quieted from their roaring to just a few faint whispers as the priest proceeded. Meanwhile, more priests appeared and opened what windows they could, as well as the great gilded doors to the entrance. Outside, a massive crowd of civilians stood anxiously, but none moved forward into the chapel due to the guards blocking their path. The horde did shift as many pushed their way frontwards to glimpse into the cathedral.

When the priest reached the throne he stopped and turned back towards the smoked naive before announcing the consecration, motioning with his arms, and bowing his head for a moment. The light around him suddenly dimmed for just a moment, brief and quick before day restored the balance. To those Weightless in the crowd, the priest no doubt glowed vibrant and strong. Suddenly, he pushed his hands forward and sent a wave of air throughout the cathedral. The air howled against the stone walls and through the great arches of the ceiling before carrying with it the smoke through the opened windows and doors.

Then, the choir began chanting. From the front stepped a procession of priests in white, their arms raised in ceremony, and at the center stood the next monarch of Saina. The heir wasn't a noble looking man, or a refined older woman, but a young girl clad in a dress of green with a white glittering shawl over her shoulders. The next Queen.


***


Avalia walked slowly down the great carpet lining the cathedral floor, listening closely to the humming of the priests. She knew that hundreds of eyes focused in on her at that moment, more than she could ever have dreamed. She didn't need to convince herself that she wasn't nervous, there was no ignoring that fact. She was more nervous than she had probably ever been, and her stomach certainly reflected that. Ironically, it was the pure fear associated with vomiting at her own coronation that kept her from doing just that. That's how Avalia was, step by step she would walk through whatever challenged her. Not because it was easy, but because it simply had to happen.
I can only hope the same is true for the kingdom., she thought as they inched closer to the throne.

Why her uncle had chosen her as his heir was the question of the century, she was sure, and could tell by the glares she received from nobles that they felt the same way as she came down the aisle. Of course, it wasn't good to think about him either. Crying at one's coronation would also mean death by embarrassment, and so she simply faced forward and let her mind drift before she overwhelmed herself.

All thing's considered, once you removed the people and the pressure, the ceremony was quite nice. The chanting of the priests, both men and women, harmonized perfectly off each other. The open windows let in the smells of nature, a welcome change from the stench of the city. The church made extra care to ensure no development took place near the cathedral. For a moment, it almost made her feel like a queen. She only wished her father, mother, and sisters could be here to see it.
She doubted the shock of it all had left them yet. It certainly hadn't left her.

They approached the throne and the priest behind her lifted crown of Saina above her head, where he kept it as she ascended the steps upwards. The coronation throne, much like the ceremony, was rather simple. In fact, it was built of wood with little furnishing. Only small air swirls were carved on the edges, with a sun rising above clouds etched into the back. They said it came from the first king. Avalia had a hard time believing it.

She turned and faced the audience watching silently. They had seen this same spectacle seven times in the last decade. It was nothing new, just rinse and repeat. They probably expect to see it again too before this is all over she swallowed hard. When she sat, the priest came up behind her, announced some words in Taren tongue, an old and revered language, and placed the crown gingerly on her golden head.
I only hope saving this kingdom doesn't cost me my soul. she thought, feeling her chest rise with heavy breathing.

"Lord Around guard the Queen!" the priest shouted.

The crowd followed.


***



The council room was large and circular. It had formerly been a small private library for the king. The books and shelves had been cleared out not long ago and replaced with a large oak table at the center. The tower it sat it was high enough up that the windows around the tower showed nothing but blue sky unless one came up close enough to them. A fitting place, Avalia believed, for a group called the "sky council" to meet.

She fiddled with the books and maps that littered the table. This was the moment in her coronation her uncle had probably considered most important should he pass, she knew, and truthfully it was the only other time her mind kept drifting to in the previous days outside of the coronation itself. From the artfully marked maps on the table, she had deduced that the situation looked bad. Tevonia had penetrated deep into Saina. She pondered on just how close they were as she glanced out the window. That caused her to shiver.
As for the Pomadians, their advance had been slow but secure. What they'd taken in the west was locked down. Her uncle had briefly told her that the Pomadians were likely to start putting up a tougher fight should they hold off the Bascari for more than a week. That brought her to the third enemy. She heard stories of the Bascari raids across the south. Sometimes, it was horrid slaughter. She turned away from those thoughts.

Looking over the map, she considered the situation. Maybe if we just... she paused. No, who am I joking. I know nothing of tactics. Strategy. Which was used where again? she groaned in frustration, sitting down with a thud on her chair at the table. Luckily, things like that were exactly why she had this council to begin with. In a way, it was clearly her uncle's way of supporting her on the throne. Such a move reeked of him, actually. Aol never failed to invent a clever solution to a stupid problem he himself had created. Things would be far simpler if someone else had been crowned monarch.

Lifting herself off the table, she sat up and straightened her posture. That council of hers was destined to show up any minute now. She knew some of the people on it. Some more than others. Still, a few names didn't register quite so clearly as they probably should have.
good job, Ava, completely prepared once again. she chastised herself.

It was becoming a perfect start to her queenship.

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The Vekta-Helghast Empire
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Postby The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Wed May 31, 2017 7:29 pm

Alexander Redding Clarifont.

During the ceremony, he’d been no-where to be seen. Having arrived that very day from his holding in the north, following a long and brutal campaign. His courtiers, household guard and even he himself had been in total disarray. When they found their lodgings - it turned into a mad frenzy of workers, hoping to get him prepared for his first meeting with the council. He knew his chances of reaching the ceremony in time had past, and thus he simply hoped the Queen wouldn’t notice his absence. But this was a scenario he’d planned for, and with him he brought a locket - once belonging to his Grandmother, only instead of the original painting, within it’s heart-shaped clasp, was himself, his sister and the Queen. From their days at court under the reign of Aol. In a mad rush, he found his finest leathers - neglecting any jewelry for fear of drawing attention to himself. He was a strong believer in wearing underwhelming garments to such events - for they belonged to the Monarch. To contest their glamour and appearance, would be naught but disrespectful.

It had been months since the two had properly spoken - Alexander and Ava had known one another during the reign of her Uncle, often he and his sister would be left in her company, given their close proximity in age. And his heart was thundering in his chest. They’d both suffered horribly in the war, and he wasn’t sure if he’d cry or laugh when he saw her face again. He arrived in a rather unusual set of garments for a coronation - leathers as black as the night’s sky, neatly fitted with various straps and buttons. A high collar covering his pale flesh, only his face on display - as black gloves clung tightly to his fingers. When the doors opened, he was shocked to see himself on time for once, as one of the first councilors through the door. His eyes set on the young queen, and for a moment his heart stopped. One small detail he’d clearly forgotten was her incredibly beauty, and the shock took a moment to overcome.

He quietly approached the table, soon offering a bright smile, ”It’s been too long, Ava-.. Er.. Your Majesty.” The words seemed to stick in his throat, the fond memories of his father and her uncle rushing through his mind, ”I hope you’ll excuse me for not bowing, ma’am, but I fear I wouldn’t be able to get back up again.” He motions towards his stomach, ”I took an arrow on my last campaign, and I’m still recovering, it would seem..” Despite that, he offered a slight bow of the head - eager to show respect, despite his injuries. Yet he very clearly worried that he may have caused offense by his earlier remark, addressing her by name - rather than title.

As if to draw attention from his failures, he quickly motioned to a box that rested between his hands - about the size of a brick, ”I brought you something, in honour of your ascension - It’s nothing much, just a humble gift from myself. Call it a re-union token, if you will.” He shifted rather uncomfortably before placing it on the table before her, opening it to reveal a small silver necklace - a locket bound to the end, containing a painting of her and the two Clarifont twins from a year or so ago. His smile soon faded to that of an awkward panic - as he awaited her judgement. He clearly wasn’t experienced in dealing with Monarchs as the head of his own house, nor with formal discussions in general. Quietly, he locked his hands behind his back, eyes dipped from her gaze - as if trying in every way possible not to cause offense.
Last edited by The Vekta-Helghast Empire on Wed May 31, 2017 7:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Yuzhou
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Postby Yuzhou » Wed May 31, 2017 11:23 pm

Queen Avalia Cindria
Chamber of the Sky Council

It wasn't long before the great doors at the front end of the council chamber opened up. The gentleman that stepped through, clad in black, took only a few brief steps before pausing. Avalia met him with her blue-grey eyes and took a moment to register him, her own confusion matching his pause. Alexander? she asked her self, standing as the man approached. Of course it was. His name was on the expected list, stupid girl. Yet, he had changed, she could see. With a hard swallow, she figured that was what war did to men after all.

His smile brought back a hint of familiar to her as he started with his greeting. The sudden change however, swept her straight back into the current. She listened intently to him as he spoke, paling visibly as he described his arrow wound. It was one thing to see death, but something like that reminded people that in war men don't just die, but can be broken bit by bit and still live.

The passing look on his face told Avalia that already there was a cold discomfort between the two. It's the damn crown! she thought, though she did not wear that particularly important piece of headwear. The council was a new concept for the kingdom, and at this point no one knew if it should be a formal or informal thing. Most nobles didn't even know if they wanted to be on it or not. Considering the situation of the realm, Avalia was sure no one really cared.

She watched her friend quickly present a gift to her, setting the box down on the table and opening it. The queen's eyes lit up as he described to her what she was looking at. As he went, she picked up the locket and studied it intently. Before she knew it, however, he had assumed another cold and discomforted position.

"Alexander, it's beautiful..." she cooed as she turned the trinket over again. In that moment a thought came to her. Maybe she should chastise her friend...vassal, for not showing proper respect to his new monarch. If she was to be queen, perhaps her uncle would have wanted her to act more like it. Maybe that was the first step to saving the realm. She looked at him with a steady gaze before finally relaxing it. No, I don't have the heart. she told herself.

Clearing her throat, she motioned to a seat at the table.
"Please, Alexander. Sit."

She awkwardly pulled some maps to his attention.
"You know far more of war than I do. Perhaps you can help me make more sense at what I'm looking at while we wait for the others."
In the meantime, she clasped the necklace around her neck.



Somewhere in the Eastern Heartlands
The looming black figure stood with one leg propped on the rock mound in front of him. He studied the countryside before him, wind picking up his sable cap and tossing it like a plaything behind him. Above him, the Sainan sun shone down, as it had all day though he had never broken a sweat due to its presence. All he ever felt from the sun was power.

Boots crunched behind him as he stroked his flaring mustache, watching the peasant wagon down in the valley abandon it's homesteads. He turned to see who approached.
Coming towards him was General Torche, one hand on his blade, the other carrying a pike. Despite the face-mask the general wore, with it's long fake beard, it was the horns on his helmet that gave away his identity.
The general's armor, like most Tevonians, was black and he wore it constantly because he had no power. He was what the Sainans called a Drab, powerless. That didn't matter. The man had killed Weightless a dozen times over.

His voice was muffled and deep behind his mask. "They are leaving the valley?" he asked. "We'll get no food from them."

"No." the figure replied, turning back to watch the farmland.

"We'll run thin on food. We should turn us back." Torche said walking up to the side of the figure. "Conscripts get angry with no food."

The figure didn't respond immediately. Torche was right, of course. They had spread their lines thin and it wouldn't be long before they may have to backtrack to ensure enough supplies made it through. Still, he could taste victory on the tip of his tongue.
"We won't turn back. Not yet." the figure finally said. "I want to make a bid for their capital."

Torche clearly seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "You've killed their king. So what? They've new king. Spies tell me it's a woman."

"I know." the figure said quietly. Unlike the Pomadians, he did not underestimate the potential ferocity of the new Sainan monarch because she was a woman. That was not the Tevonian way. That was the fools way.
"But if we can take their capital. Capture this new king. We can avoid prolonged conflict. End this ten-year war." he said.

"Ah." Torche said nodding his head. "Like we did in Astra!" he gave a laugh. "Fine, I'll ask other generals. Your will is our command, Sovereign."

The figure watched the general salute and back away. He turned his attention back to the valley, thinking, before pushing off the rock and into the sky.
I have been previously known as Apfeldonia and Thimbyrland

Oh way down south in the land of cotton...

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The Vekta-Helghast Empire
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Postby The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Thu Jun 01, 2017 3:06 am

Duke Alexander Redding von Clarifont.
Chamber of the Sky Council.


With her compliment of his gift, he felt a sudden ease come over him - the mention of his first name, rather than his title - more than enough, ”I’m glad you like it, your highness. I didn’t have much time to prepare anything all too glamorous for you, I do hope you can forgive me for that.” He commented with a beautiful white smile, before taking up the seat as instructed - eyes scanning the map - It really is bad.. he thought to himself, giving a slightly concerned look towards Avalia before resuming his evaluation.

Soon he found himself totally entranced with the situation - leaning forwards and running his fingers across the maps - muttering quietly to himself as he pondered the situation. But before long he spoke up, ”I apologise if this isn’t the right time - but.. I’m sorry for your loss. King Aol was a close family friend, just as you are. My father was proud to count him among his closest. And he’d be proud of you - I heard how calm you were during your coronation and how nobly you conducted yourself.. I know I certainly wouldn’t have been so respectable.” With that comment, he dipped his head somewhat, making it apparent that courtly conduct wasn’t something he’d been used to for some time, ”I also apologise if I make you feel as if I’ve disrespected you or made you uncomfortable in anyway - It’s been awhile since I’ve been at court. And my sister, as you know - was always much better at these sorts of things. Formality never was my forté.”

He gave a brief pause before making his next comment, clearly pondering whether he should say it or not, ”But I couldn’t exactly refuse a royal summons Not that I could refuse you, even if you weren't.” Quickly following it up with a bright smile and a wink, as if to reassure her of her position. The smile lingering on his lips after the comment - yet he gave a slight hint of nerves, as his finger tips lightly tapped the table-top, his body slightly tensed as he awaited her reaction - Either I’ve just rekindled our friendship, or I’ve just fell on my own sword. He thought to himself before reaching into his pockets, removing various papers and letters. Placing them off to the side for future reference.
Last edited by The Vekta-Helghast Empire on Thu Jun 01, 2017 6:28 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Aghrabia
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Postby Aghrabia » Thu Jun 01, 2017 4:00 am

The number of coronations that had taken place in such a short period certainly took the edge off of the extravagant splendour that was typical of these events, even for those more romantically-inclined- especially after the chain of events that led up to this point. Duke Nicholas Talbot on the other hand was completely unsentimental, and the novelty began to wear thin after so many coronationsin so many years- nine, if you now included the soon-to-be-Queen Avalia's. To the Duke, the incessant fripperies of the court were tiresome on the day-to-day basis that his business requires him to deal with, so the full, overblown excess of these events positively made him want to curl up in a dark room and go into a coma for a few years, but, alas, duty calls. So, there he was sitting in the great cathedral (alone, his family remained in Caerden, Nicholas himself having judged his daughter Yulia, though 15, too young to travel the large distance required to reach the capital for the coronation- much to her disappointment- with his wife staying with her, to care for her, and the estate, while he was away) waiting for the crowning of the new Queen. The position he had inherited from his father, and now his place on the Council, helping to advise the young Cindria, allowed him to sit very close to the ceremony. Having glanced around to see if he could spot any of his fellow councillors in the crowd (it was possible to see most of them from his position), after casting a cursory scan of the larger crowd around the back ends of the hall, (largely minor nobility), he considered the cathedral itself, with its magnificent art and architecture: especially the heavily romanticised and idealistic stained-glass window of St. Bartholomew slaying his dragon- an unusual inclusion of a drab to the canon of a religion so focused on the Weightless side of being.

He was awoken from his stupor by the sound of the deliberate steps of the priest clad in white, with the scent of the burning incense and the extreme refraction of light scattering around the vaulted halls. From this point onwards, the Duke drifted off again into his consideration of philosophy and religion, having seen this event many, many times beforehand. He barely stirred when the priest began the consecration, he barely stirred when the lights dimmed, and he only stirred slightly when the blast of wind echoed through the high arches of the cathedral. He phased back out again when the choir started singing. Then the young girl who was to become their queen arrived, but he just lazily stared at her through half-lidded eyes- even from this distance, without putting much effort into it, he could tell she was absolutely terrified by this turn of events. He could understand this: with the thousand eyes boring into her; with the pure, unbridled hatred some nobles felt towards her; with the recent death of her uncle; and the crushing weight of responsibility upon her shoulders, especially. Slowly, she glided towards the pedestal at the end of the path she walked and the rest of the ceremony passed without complaint.

The priest yelled "Lord Around guard the Queen!"

The crowd, along with Nicholas, followed this action. "Lord Around guard the Queen!" Then, adding in his head, 'Much good did it do the last eight kings- let's hope this time the blessing is a little more helpful.'

After the end of the inauguration process, the steady stream of aristocrats left the cathedral of the Lord Around, following their newly-crowned monarch into the city, with Talbot being amongst them. Most of them dispersed into small groups of family or friends, excitedly discussing the ceremony they had just witnessed- and more than a few rumours besides, whether about the Queen, her new council, or even about news of the multiple wars the country was fighting. Normally, Talbot would be paying attention to these- to study the state of court- but he had more pressing business.

On his way to the first meeting of this council he had newly been made a part of, he thought about his new liege... The new Queen certainly had a strong personality, from what he had seen and heard of her interactions, despite her age. The impression she gave, though, was of someone completely out of her depth- and she was, he supposed, her uncle had truly thrust her into the thick of it: with little training or experience; this was offset somewhat by the high-quality support he had arranged to help her. This "sky court"- as the crippled once-king had so delightfully named it- though, was an interesting factor in these events that currently held the political discourse if the nation. Assembled from a list of the most influential nobles of Saina (and a tendency towards the most incorruptible, from what he had seen of the list of names his men had assembled), the council was a deeply pragmatic option, and a decision characteristic of Aol, before his death at the hands of his enemies(though including the little old Duke of Caerden, who Aol knew was not trustworthy at the best of times seemed like a bad choice). It all seemed like a joke, until it became very real. She hadn't been around in courtly circles, or, indeed, alive, long enough for him to build up enough blackmail material to solicit any sort of control over her; this fact was unfortunate, but this was hardly the end of the world- Nicholas had enough command over the court to hold his position and influence the nobility towards a choice of his own choosing. He became lost in his own machinations and hardly realised when he found himself in front of the doors to the council room.

Ordering the guards he had brought with him to stay outside, he entered the chamber that was to be the site for their meetings from that point forward. He had only been in this room a few times before and mostly didn't recognise it, since the bookshelves had been cleared out and replaced by a giant wooden table filled with maps, papers and charts. Seated at the table was the woman he had more or less came to see- the newly-created Queen Avalia. With her, though was the Alexander Clarifont, the young Duke of the duchy neighboring his; he knew of his addition to the council and he didn't really view him as a threat in any way.

He bowed to the Queen. "Your Majesty, I wish to congratulate you on your recent coronation. I am sure your uncle would be proud of you, the Lord rest his soul."
Deus Vult, Infidel!

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Kaledoria
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Postby Kaledoria » Thu Jun 01, 2017 10:48 am

Duke Conan O' Neill
A day's ride west of Ailech


"It was a glorious non-battle," Duke Conan described the last military mission before leaving towards the capital, to his wife. The sarcasm was obvious in his voice. "We forwent the skirmish and charged directly at their siege camps. This is not usually done, as it revealed our full strength. Maybe we could have killed more of them, had we taken the traditional approach but that was not the goal. We did successfully get them out of their siege camps, even though they rallied at the nearby hill. Still, we could plunder their camps and give the stuff to the men in the castle. Exchange a few fatigued soldiers, too, and then we left."

Branwen thought about it: "So, they can lay siege to the castle again. Why did you not attack their army, darling, were they to strong? - Not to sound bloodthirsty, I'm just curious."

"We were the stronger force but not much stronger. The battle would have been costly for both sides and with enemies at all sides we cannot lose men in meaningless side battles, we have to save them for the important battles of this war."

They passed the border into the Queen's demesne, they were taking the western road, riding a day towards Caerden and then once they had crossed the heartland's main river, turned south. Along the more direct eastern road, sightings of a strong Tevonian force had been reported.


Three days later

Conan and his retinue had arrived at the royal palace. He had pushed his horse to the limit and managed to be in time for the coronation, even though he had only gotten a bad view from the last spot he could find to watch it. He appeared in front of the Chamber of the Sky Council armed and accompanied by his wife and four knights. Three bore the patterns of Tir Maeg, one was displaying a different banner on his chest, that of Dyfeld, a land that was by now property of Tevonia.

The royal guards looked concerned but Conan passed his Pole-ax to one of the knight, then his side sword and his dagger. He took of his helmet, and the gauntlets and they, too were given to his men. His wife, too, gave her staff and short-sword to a knight. Compared to the men she looked rather civilian, although from closeup, one could see, that her clothes were actually a brigandine armor, tailored to look unsuspicious.

The ducal couple entered the chamber and emitted a slight, warm glow while bowing in front of their queen.

Branwen introduced her husband: "His Dukeship Conan of House O' Neill. Representing the lands of Tir Magh."

Conan bowed deep and addressed his liege: "Your majesty. I greet you as your loyal vassal." He stood straight again. "We have met before, I think. About 6 years ago, during the military parade prior to the strike against the Bascar invaders. Your father was marshal at the time." In fact, Conan was not completely sure, whether he had met Cindria or her sister that day, he just remembered being introduced to a daughter by marshall Helvor. But his squires had ensured him, that Cindria had been at the parade, so it was most likely they had at least seen each other and in such case, his etiquette suggested to call back to the former meeting, however brief and superficial it may have been.

"Your majesty, may I introduce to you my wife, Lady Branwen." Conan stepped aside and his wife bowed again and introduced herself: "It's an honor, your majesty. Sadly I never had the change to pronounce in person to your uncle, my loyalty as a subject of your realm." Just now, her accent became noticeable. "I recon my father's stance towards your kinsman Pitas - and vice versa - was a distanced apathy and I hope, we two can have a closer relation."
Last edited by Kaledoria on Thu Jun 01, 2017 11:26 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Thu Jun 01, 2017 12:08 pm

The Cathedral

The soft melody of the Thousand Chimes flowed like a summer’s breeze through the giant halls of the Cathedral. It was a soft song, a kind-hearted version of ‘Oh King, Oh Lord’, the spiritual anthem of any coronation. It was played, as mentioned, by the Thousand Chimes; hundreds of metal pipes placed throughout the Cathedral. Some were placed high throughout the towers, others ran through the walls to the outside of the complex. Some were small, climbing the walls like hundreds of silver beetles, and others were enormous, like the two pipes forming the centre of the two frontal towers of the Cathedral. In those towers, among the walls, in every nook and cranny, priests of the Lord All Around were manipulating the currents of air formed by the grand mass of people, turning it to melodic sounds and music, even recognisable as ‘Oh King, Oh Lord’.

‘Oh King, Oh Queen’, Harrow thought as he let the soft notes guide him to an easy state of mental rest. He had closed his eyes, allowing the sun’s rays to warm the back of his neck as the sounds filled him with contentment. He stood at the back of the Church, where the building formed a semi-circle of large tainted windows. Each window corresponded with some ancient story of a holy man or woman, and each window was manned by a man in armour. From behind the throne, they represented the religious Knightly Orders that protected the kingdom from harm, both from within and without, with whatever means necessary. Normally, these people would have been the Grand Masters of their respective orders: old men (as they were mostly men) of repute, in battle-scarred armour, holding a lance with the banner of their order. Simple marks corresponding with the saint their order was associated with.

This coronation was different, however. No longer were all the banners carried by stout men of healthy age. Unlike what was normal, the Knights of the Banners, as they were called, were a mixture of all sorts of people. Under the Window of Galda stood a blonde youngster, perhaps 20 years of age, only recently having pledged his Knightly Vows. He was one of the last remaining members of his order, the rest having fallen during the Battle of the Ardanian Hills. He carried a banner with a sun as its defining feature. Most of the knights carrying their banners were as young as he was, or only slightly older. The same went for the Knights of the Heavenly Lion, a winged lion on their banner, and many other orders. The Hospital Order of Lombrada was even represented by a woman, an old sister clinging tight to the banner adorned with three leaves pointing in three directions. It all represented the sorry state of the country, the military, and the political order. Not much was left to defend the capital, and even then, not much was left to pick up the pieces. For the first time in 400 years of their existence, the Knights of the Radiant Sun had failed to send a representative, their home fortress under siege with no-one to send to the capital.

The soft music stopped, and the bells started ringing, drawing Harrow from his slumber. He clenched the lance in his right fist, which held the black-red banner of Saint Bartholomew: a red dragon and a shield. With a straight back, he looked at the procession coming towards the throne pedestal: the young queen, whom he had met plenty of times before, now walking radiant like mountain ice under the pressure of the government. Harrow had pity for her. Nothing but pity. The girl looked so though, her whole body radiating confidence and statehood. A façade, Harrow guessed. The death of her uncle was unexpected, and her ‘ascension’ was too. Never could Harrow have guessed the contents of the letter he brought back to the capital. Yet, here they were, another point in the chain of events that started nearly 50 years ago for Harrow, and which had been going on since Time Immemorial for the kingdom. There was no rest for the wicked, no respite for what had endured for centuries.

“The Knights of Galda pledge to the Queen, and may be drown before we falter!” The young blonde has a surprisingly powerful voice, which was perhaps why he was chosen for the ceremony. The ‘pledging of the knights’ had once been a great spectacle. Now, it only drew attention to their thinned numbers.

“The Knights of Lombrada pledge to the queen, and may we drown before we falter!” The old woman said, her voice not even reaching the back of the Cathedral. Still, her face was proud, and she held the lance and banner with vigour.

“The Knights of Bartholomew, the Hunter, pledge to the queen, and may we drown before we falter!” This vow reminded him of his own. Indeed, he had made the very same pledge when Aol had ascended. And it was not just a hollow phrase; a failed guard was indeed supposed to take his life. At the behest of king Aol, Harrow had abstained from his age-old tradition, swearing an oath to Aol to see his last Edict secured. Never would Harrow have guessed that Aol could save his life beyond the grave, and never had Harrow thought that he would hate the man for it. Alas, it was an oath, and Harrow would keep an oath. Even if it was to a dead man. His soul lingered with the Lord All Around, after all.

After the Priest blasted the Cathedral with air, and with the Thousand Chimes blowing out their notes in unison, the Cathedral emptied out. The knights followed a column in front and behind the queen, forming her honour guard for the ceremony. Harrow walked beside the Lady of Lombrada, the Hospital Priestess who carried the three-leafed banner. They did not exchange looks, but Harrow thought a lot about the old woman. Being a knight of Lombrada, she was probably a master of Weightlessness. She could kick his ass in a fight, most likely, and her wisdom stretched well beyond his. A life’s worth of training, and still he could be bested by an old woman. For the rest of the journey, he kept a solemn pace, marching steadily to the drums leading the procession.

-


Just after Duke Conan had entered, Harrow too entered the room. He had overseen its transformation from a small library to a council room, and he had hated every bit of it. It was too much of a metaphor: the wisdom of old, told in thousands of books, having to be removed to make way for the modern political order. Still, the smell of old books lingered, like ghosts of the dead watching over the small round council chamber. The smell of king Aol, watching over his shoulder to see if he kept his promise. Silently, the knight bowed before the queen, quickly walking around to her left hand side. That way, he could quickly draw his sword if anything were to happen. He didn’t say much. He would keep the chatter to later, when they were alone. Now, it was better to be seen as the loyal guardsman than as a personal friend of the queen. Even when not busy with politics, Harrow would not count himself among those lucky enough to call themselves ‘royal friends’, but at least he had spoken to the girl before. That was not what everyone in the room could claim.

For a moment, Harrow scanned the room. There were four of them, excluding the queen. Alexander Clarifont had been the first to enter. Harrow had stood watch by the door, so he knew who had entered in what order. A young lad, only twenty-eight, with some battle experience already under his belt. Lord, he looked exactly like his father in some regards, the man who had taken over the royal guard for that final charge. They had spoken only for one evening, recounting stories and talking about home… Edward had nothing but praise for his son, and for his daughter, too. Alexander was a man he could trust, perhaps. He had known the queen before, after all. The second man to enter had been Nicholas Talbot. Now, for him, Harrow knew nothing but contempt. Why the king had allowed him to serve on the council was everyone’s best guess. The man was despised by knightly circles, being against everything a proper knight stood for. Still, if king Aol trusted him, Harrow would do well to trust him, too. However, there was nothing wrong with keeping your sword arm between the queen and Talbot. Finally, there was Duke O’Neill. It was hard to get a grasp on him. He was talented for sure, a man of military matters but culture as well. Still, Harrow had only heard stories, and it would take some time before he got to know the inner workings of the man.
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Yuzhou
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Postby Yuzhou » Thu Jun 01, 2017 7:29 pm

Queen Avalia Cindria
Chamber of the Sky Council

"You're not fooling anyone Alexander. 'Not much time to prepare for something glamorous!'" Avalia lightheartedly teased the man. "I think you could have gifted me a keep laid with gold and you'd claim it only a small token."

She watched him study the maps laid before him. His concerned expression caused the queen to wince. That bad, huh? she thought. Even she could tell by the current reports that the situation was becoming dire, yet to have a military man express the same beliefs, if even in just an look, added an extra layer of discomfort surrounding her task.
That discomfort was added to by Alexander's sympathies surrounding Aol's death. Her uncle was one subject that she had tried intently to put out of her mind, even if she had failed earlier to do so. His death on the other hand was something she managed to ignore, putting it out of her head as if she was simply standing in for Aol while he took a break from rulership. A permanent break.
"Thank you." she said quietly.

She could tell by the way he continued that there was a distinct discomfort in him attempting to keep protocol. He even continued to apologize for it. Avalia couldn't blame him too much, after all he likely never expected to become duke so soon. Aol wasn't the only man to die in that charge against the Tevonian lines. Before the young queen could speak, Alexander proceeded with his attempt at comfortable speech. When he finished, he remained tensed and started placing notes and papers on the table.
Rigid Avalia said to herself. That's the word. He's become so rigid.

She giggled hoping to melt some of that ice, even if it was a little forced. "Alexander, do not worry about insulting me. I understand etiquette was never your field of choice. You're new to being a duke, to be fair, I'm new to being a queen. I guess neither of us expected this."

At that moment, another figure entered the chamber. Nicholas Talbot, duke of Caerden. This man was the living representation of the aristocracy milling the capital. For that, he represented the nobility outside of her uncle's clout. Avalia did not doubt that the old royal names were more closely connected in association with Talbot, than they were with her. His inclusion on the council had been surprising, but all things considered it was probably purely pragmatic and was the least of the surprises her uncle could dish out.

She listened to his congratulations, starting at his mention of her uncle. It didn't take long for her to realize the more political connotations to the remarks than true praise. At least, based on what she had heard of this man. She also realized it was time to be act more queenly.

"Welcome your Dukeship. Please, if you will take a seat, we will be starting shortly. Duke von Clarifont has been reviewing the military situation of the kingdom."

It was long afterwards that another council member arrived, this time with a woman in hand. It was clear immediately that the two walked with absorbed light, Weightless to the bone it seemed. The lady announced the duke of Tir Magh before the Brightlord stepped forward and introduced himself more intimately than the simple announcement. The queen listened intently on the man's recollection of their first meeting. Six years ago had been a long time and her mind seemed to forget the finer details of such a time. Save for it being the last her father was truly well during.
"Yes, I remember our encounter then." she said, cringing internally at how generic it probably seemed to the duke. "You were an individual of striking impression I must concede."
She finished that with a smile. As she spoke, Harrow made his entrance into the room. Outside, the sun began to sink below the horizon, casting soft rays of gold and orange before true evening descended on the land.
The queen gave the aging knight a nod as he made his way curtly to her side. He was the closest link to her uncle that she had. He was there at the battle with him, he saw Aol's final moments, and he had been the one to deliver Aol's final decree. Ever since he had arrived back at the capital, however, he had seemed more distant to Avalia.

Not that the two were ever really close, but she had adapted a certain affinity for the Drab knight. He reminded her of simpler times. In no small amount, she had decided, due to his voice, of which even in the faintest accent she could hear a trace of her mountain home.

The queen quickly turned her attention back to the couple as the woman bowed and introduced herself. As it turned out, she was O'Neill's wife. Avalia listened as the woman proclaimed her allegiance, a clear outsider in voice. Though her name was not included on the list of expected individuals, Avalia feared sending her away would insult the duke. Sainans always were picky on formality.
If only I had studied the people mean't to guide me she thought.
"Thank you, lady Branwen. I have no doubt of your affection and loyalty to the crown and I can agree that my families past alignment will change to a more favorable one in the present." Avalia said.

The queen moved back over to her seat at the table and began.
"There are a few others I was told to expect, but considering this meeting will likely move into the night, we will begin now. If you will all take your seats." she turned to Harrow and motioned to a seat right beside her own. "If you will sit as well, master Harrow."

Clearing some of the clutter on the desk, she straightened the most important maps and reports so they could be seen clearly no matter where someone sat.
"I will be frank, my lords. I am under no illusion that we must act strongly if we wish to save this kingdom. Most of you are familiar with my predecessor and his plans. I must admit, I am not my uncle and I expect none of you to treat me as such. Still, I am queen now and only through you will we be able to save what's left of our crumbling home."
She paused and glanced around at each in return. "You can see where we stand by the information layed before you. I want opinions, my lords, and I want options. Based on what you see, what will be required to give us a more favorable base to work from?"
I have been previously known as Apfeldonia and Thimbyrland

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Postby The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Thu Jun 01, 2017 9:36 pm

Duke Alexander Redding Von Clarifont.
Chamber of the Sky Council.


”You flatter me too much, your highness. If anything, that’s what you’re deserving of. And I could only aspire to provide you with a gift suitable of your stature, ability and charm.” His voice grew smoother as the duo interacted, the initial tension beginning to fade as he came to grasps with her personality - having been apart for so long leaving him concerned as to whether or not they’d bond in the same way. Seeing her change in expression when discussing her uncle, he merely placed a hand on her fore-arm, leaving it for but a second as to grant her reassurance, thinking to himself, How easy it is - for me to forget, as I’ve lost a father, she’s lost an uncle. And as I’m young, she’s younger.

With her giggle, he received the final assurances he needed, ”Then we’ll find a way to meet the challenges of our new positions together - as our families always have. Not only that, but we’ll overcome them - every.. Last.. One..” With that, he lightly knocked over some of the opposition’s pieces on her maps, replacing them almost immediately after.

It was then that the Duke Talbot entered, he’d heard much of his intrigues and manipulations - his father warning him of the man the moment he was old enough to understand courtly intrigues. Though he doubted Talbot knew much of him, nor anyone on the council would - other than those who’d met him and his father during courtly functions. But even then, their knowledge of what kind of a man he was, would no doubt be limited in nature. Perhaps only knowing of his victory the very day Aol and his father perished. With his introduction complete, and the Queen directing Talbot towards him - Alexander arose, motioning to the map, ”I hope you like puzzles, because this is certainly one of the harder ones I’ve encountered in my life.” His comment was light-hearted and welcoming, a hand swooping across the table as to draw attention to the positioning of the enemy forces.

Then, before much else could be said - a couple found their way into the chamber, now these were other names which rang bells - Duke Conan O’Neill and his wife, Branwen. He’d seen them in the very parade they’d mentioned, having been brought there by his father to lay witness and to gain a better understanding of courtly affairs, but he couldn’t say he knew much of the duet. Yet one thing all knew, was of Branwen’s foreign origins, her arrival in the council chambers putting him a tad on nerve. Tales had always been spun of foreign agents infiltrating courts at the highest level, and thus he forced himself to maintain a hint of pessimism, until she could prove her intentions to be non-belligerent. From looking at the map, he also knew that the O’Neill’s were in dire straights - the holding of Tir Magh nearly entirely occupied by the advancing Tevonians, who were - near undoubtedly the most dangerous of the nation’s foes.

Then - the last of the council to arrive prior to the Queen’s initiation of their official functions, a man he had nothing but respect for - Sir Harrow, captain of the Queen’s household guard and a man his father often spoke fondly of. A man of great honour and loyalty. If there was one man Alexander thought he could fall back on, should things take a turn - it would be him. And if there were to be but once voice of reason, it would no doubt be his commanding tone.

Alexander had been certain to position himself at the Queen’s side, hoping to provide her with the confidence and support she needed to command the proceedings. He’d known her for years, and no doubt this was the reason behind his appointment - to ensure she had someone she could trust and count on the support of, if not out of respect for his own martial and courtly abilities.

With her instructions - he spoke truly, ”I won’t lie to you, your Majesty - the situation is dire. But I’m not entirely without suggestion.” He gives a brief pause as he pushes himself to his feet - groaning faintly due to his injuries, ”Lord O’Neill, how long would the granaries of Allech be able to sustain the city in event of a siege?” He questioned, before turning his gaze towards the Queen, ”If Duke O’Neill’s forces can bait the Tevonian’s right flank into a siege, and you allow us to raise our forces at Caerden and Duskhaven - our joint forces could smash the Tevonian’s northern advance before swinging around to break the siege, outflanking and encircling their forces. We’d be likely to kill, if not capture the bulk of them, especially after weeks of siege. As he spoke, he shifted pieces around on the map, his gaze steely, ”Then, whilst this - their main force, moves to the Capitol, believing their flanks to be secure. We swoop around, with the joint forces of Duskhaven, Caerden and Tir Magh - Sandwiching the bulk of their forces between our armies and the royal army here in the crownlands.”

With that, he gave pause for the plan to seep in, ”We’d leave the Tevonians no choice but to seek favourable terms for peace. They wouldn’t be able to raise a new force quickly enough to respond if we moved against them then. The Bascar are too scattered and require flat terrain to utilize their cavalry - they won’t risk moving through the mountains or isolating themselves across the great rivers. And the Pomadians’ll be shitting their britches that the Bascari break their lines and encircle them, so they’ll be cautious in their advance. If we’re swift and destroy the Tevonian army, we could potentially be able to meet the Pomadians at the rivers of the Crownlands or of Duskhaven. With our superior knowledge of the terrain - and by this point, far more experienced soldiers. It’d only take one decisive victory to break their will. And with them defeated - the Bascari’ll rout, they won’t risk meeting us on the field. They’re raiders, not a fieldable army.”

Again, he gives another pause for discussion, ”Admittedly, I’m not as experienced as many sat at this table - nor have I analysed the situation for any great length, but at a glance - I feel like this plan could work. And if we put our minds together - along with our forces.. We may just avenge all those we’ve lost until this point, with interest. And then no one’ll be able to question the legitimacy of our Monarch, the Council or the Kingdom itself.” With that final remark, he took up his seat once again - motioning for the others to provide input, should they desire. Quietly he leaned over, whispering to his Monarch, ”I just thought I’d start us off with an injection of optimism.”

Visualisation of his plan, as to indicate how he moved the pieces around the map.

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Postby Kaledoria » Fri Jun 02, 2017 2:35 pm

Lady Branwen took her husband's hands and stepped close to him. "I leave you to your business then and find us a place to stay." She moved her hand to his face, touched it briefly. A not entirely subtle gesture of affection. A reasonable display that would obviate rumors, that her childlessness could be attributed to a lack of love in the marriage.

She went outside and the Duke went to the table. He adjusted the corridor, that the Tevonians had struck through his lands. In the last week, a siege had been lifted, another one started, and a river-fortification had to be abandoned. From a distance, it looked, like the Sainan forces had the enemy surrounded but the people with military background knew, on a strategic level this was not good, it only meant, that the own forces were divided while the enemy was concentrated.

Duke Alexander put the finger in the wound. Supplies was the big problem Conan was going to mention. "Tir Magh's walls are standing strong. We have not lost a major fortress in years and even the minor ones are currently well defended. ... Sadly, the Dunheim fields are still not at optimal efficiency and our southern fields are currently in constant thread of raids. Most peasants have sought refuge in the castles and fortified cities. While they are willing to take up spear and shield and defend the walls, it means that our fields are not producing enough grain. To say our granaries are empty would be an understatement, by now, our treasuries are almost empty from paying for imported food, too. We will probably hold out till winter. In the best cases until early spring but moral will drop once we cut the rations."

Conan respected Alexander like no other lord of the Realm. His victory in the fields Of Dunheim - at the same time that Conan broke the siege of Ailech and the following destruction of the Tevonian forces at the shores of the river Boyne had been one of the greatest victories in the war so far. And it had given Tir Magh a well needed temporary relieve. Some Knights even whispered, that this was the turning point for Tevonia when they decided to change their strategy from trying to fight in the Duchy to trying to break through it and go for the capital directly.

"I agree with the overall strategy but I don't think they will try to besiege Ailech again. They just can not casually do it and their main force is to deep into the land, there is no reason for them to turn around and besiege Ailech, when they can just as well push on and besiege us here in the capital." He took out six small copper coins and placed them in the area, that was considered under Tevonian control. "Those fortresses are currently besieged. As you see, their goal is to secure the main east-west road here. Instead of protecting the road itself, they have cut off all possible bases of operation, So if we'd employ a raider group to prey on their supplies, that force would have to camp in the wild and move slow and carefully, like on enemy terrain. It would not be very efficient.

However, it means, that if we attack right here, at Kaer Gestren," he pushed pieces to the middle of the Tevonian line, on the plains that marked the border between the crown-lands and Tir Magh, "they will need to react. I think I should be able to assemble a force of up to five hundred men in my vassals' holdings to the south. If I attack this siege here, they will likely not call back their main force but they will gather the troops from multiple sieges to deal with it. This will be, when you come from the north, when they are on road and vulnerable. With just a little luck we will have our full force against three minor forces of their: Those sieging Kaer Gestren, those coming from the west and those coming from the east. And then, their main force would be in trouble, as it would be without supplies. They are to big to supply themselves from pillaging - without splitting up over a much larger area, this would obviously be great for us. So they will likely use their remaining supplies for a forced march back home - and this is where we will ambush them. In theory." He added the last part knowing well, that there was one component, that the plan was not accounting for: The enemy generals.
Last edited by Kaledoria on Fri Jun 02, 2017 2:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States
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Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Sat Jun 03, 2017 3:16 am

9 years prior
Western Saina
Siege of Hammerhus

The swamp-ridden bogs of western Saina had always been a queer place. Not many people lived there, agriculture was quite ineffective, land reclamation was expensive, and the people there had little to no exports to the rest of the kingdom. While nominally being a part of the kingdom, the swamp-people (or Tarii, as they were called non-derogatorily) remained largely independent, watched over by a royal governor and his sheriffs. His men kept the peace, built roads and fought off wild animals, so the local Tarii population could live in peace. In return, the kingdom was allowed to build fortifications in their lands, for besides being only a minor royal province, it had always been a major defensive line against possible Pomadian incursions. Hammerhus was the largest of these fortifications, situated at the convergence of all the east-bound roads. The local area was particularly boggy, and no other roads had been constructed yet. If an army wanted to march to the crown lands, they would have to crack Hammerhus.

And Hammerhus was not easily cracked. Having first been built as a simple motte and bailey-type fortification, it had been expanded by every royal governor since the first. Stone towers had been added, the hill on which it had been built was expanded, ditched were dug, moats added, the trees in a wide area cut. Eventually, Hammerhus had expanded to become the most formidable fortification of the West, vested with the hopes of an entire kingdom that the Pomadians would not pass. So, when the Pomadians finally decided to attack through the swamplands, Hammerhus was the first to face the oncoming army.

“Look at ‘em, the bastards” John Trivoli said, spitting over the castle walls. The Tarii warrior had no respect for the Pomadian army, currently encamped all around Hammerhus castle. In fact, he had little respect for anyone other than his own, and those who had proven themselves to be worthy of his praise. Pomadians, Sainans, they could all royally screw themselves when it came to John.

“Had they marched through the swamps directly my lads could’ve taken them, aye. Separate their units, slay them in the night. We would have no need for your fancy castle, Sainan.”

Harrow, spitting over the castle wall in a similar manner, had a big respect for the Tarii chieftain. However, he was always concerned by the readiness of the old warrior to throw himself into a deadly fray. Still, Tarii were proud like that, and Harrow sometimes wondered if they were right in their respect for their own battle prowess.

“Still…” Harrow said, sniffing up the rain-washed morning air. “Still, you are here, protected by fifteen feet of stone and mortar. I can give you a push if you want to fight the Pomadians head-to-head.”

John Trivoli smiled, showing his old, haggard mouth, devoid of most teeth. If it wasn’t for his leather padded armour, Harrow would assume him to be a madman. Harrow had known better, though, in the weeks that they had spent together under siege. Looking over the ramparts, Harrow could see the result of that long of a siege. The ground was riddled with corpses in all stages of dismemberment. Most steel weapons had been picked up by Pomadian scavengers in the night, but the wooden shields and clothing remained, picked apart by wolves daring enough to come close to the castle walls. In the early days, Sainan archers had used them for target practise, but eventually they knew they had to preserve their arrows for actual combat. Besides, wolves would wreak havoc among the Pomadian camp, and the archers were just the happiest with the thought of hungry bands of wolves among the Pomadians.

There hadn’t been an assault in two weeks. The last one had almost reached the top of the walls, but the Knights of Bartholomew had stood firm. Being skilled with the sword and the crossbow, the warriors had repelled the enemy attack masterfully and bravely. The enemy had suffered high casualties, and Harrow guessed they had been persuaded to just wait out the siege, to starve them out. The rumbling of his stomach told him it was becoming quite effective. There was still enough food, but it was rationed, and tightly. Bigger portions were reserved for soldiers for when an assault was expected, but that was not about to happen any time soon.

“I heard the locals ate a pigeon today. They only found the letter attached to its leg after plucking it”

John always had stories like this. Somehow, perhaps through his Tarii compatriots, he knew what the word was in the street before the Knights knew. Before the governor knew. Luckily, Harrow had heard of this story too.

“Another note from the capital. No good news, they have no troops to spare. Pitas needs all the men he can muster for his defence of the east.”

Suddenly, a horn blared throughout the town. It was a very specific kind of horn: mouth blown. Weightless musicians used their power over wind to make such instruments work, giving off quite a different sound. This horn was a drab instrument, the rallying call of the Knights of Bartholomew.

“That’s you, I think” John said, turning towards the town. “Better get back to the keep”

The castle town was not the largest of settlements, but it was not small either. It took a few streets to actually get to the keep, from where the siege defence was being led. The royal governor, a true civil servant, had no idea how to conduct such an operation, but luckily he allowed himself to be schooled by the Knights. The only contingent of troops Pitas could miss for his eastern campaign. Walking through the town, Harrow and John could see the devastating effects the siege had. All shops were closed. The baker hadn’t been opened in days, the butcher was all-out, too. Scared faces looked at the men as they passed. As they turned around a corner, the knight nearly bumped into a cart, filled with the dead of the previous night. They would be carted off to the wall and tossed over, to bring perhaps more wolves to the fray. Every night, five or so people would die of malnutrition. At first only the elderly, but now the younger ones started to suffer. Passing the cart, Harrow could just make out the face of the miller, a stout man who’d kept the castle gates closed during an assault.

The main square in front of the keep was filled with people, much to Harrow’s amazement. Normally, the people just hid in their huts, praying, playing games or telling stories. Sometimes they would come up to the wall, take a good look at the besiegers, before going home again. Public life was dead. People usually only came out for church services. Now, every able-bodied peasant had come out towards he keep it seemed. When they caught wind of Harrow, they gave him looks both angry and afraid. First, they would not let him pass, but as is right hand slipped around the handle of his sword the mass of people began to give way. A malevolent whispering went through the crowd as he passed. Arriving at the steps of the keep, Harrow could see some of his fellow knights standing shoulder to shoulder in full battle plate, their shields interlocked to leave no gap. Two of them stepped aside to let Harrow and John enter, immediately closing the gap after. Harrow joined up with Porros, his second-in-command for the operation.

“They know we have food, master” Porros said, holding his helmet tightly under his arm. “And they want it”

Harrow sighed.

“We’ve explained it. We need to ration. If we give them what they want, nobody will last the month.”

“I tried telling them that” Porros said, clearly sweating. “But they won’t listen. Rumours are circulating that a royal army is underway to lift the siege. Nonsense, I know, but try telling them that.”

“Are they armed?” Harrow asked, looking at the angry mob currently opposed to them. This could get ugly really quickly if someone decided to do something stupid.

“We don’t know. Xantander said he saw a crossbow among the crowds, but that could’ve been anything.”

“Or we could be shot at any second…” Harrow pondered, whispering the last sentence to Porros.

Then, Harrow moved towards the line of Knights guarding the steps up to the keep. Again, two of the knights stood aside, allowing him to pass. His red-black cape flowed in the wind, which was pikcing up quite suddenly.

“People of Hammerhus! I beg of you, return to your homes. The rumours you have heard are not true. No royal army is coming to our aid. If we want to survive the month…”

Harrow was not allowed to finish the sentence.

“You’re having a feast in there, aren’t you?” an angry voice shouted through the crowd. The crowd immediately picked up this attitude, mixing it with all kinds of rumours and charges.

“The governor is feasting while the commoners starve!”

Harrow dared not tell them that the governor was currently sick of malnutrition, having elected to eat the smallest possible rations. These people would not be told that, however.

“Give us the food! Why are we suffering to defend a king who won’t even bother to save us?”

“Pitas is a murderer! Better to be ruled by Pomadians than by that tyrant!”

“Down with the king! Surrender! Surrender!”

It became clear to Harrow at that point. Somehow, perhaps through Weightless magic, the Pomadians had slipped an agitator over the walls. There was an enemy spy among the people, spreading deceit and lies among the population. For Harrow, this meant that there was no debating these people. They would have to find the agitator first. Harrow turned around, walking back to the line of knights, which opened up for a third time for him to pass. Then, a shout pierced all the sounds audible. A woman screamed, Harrow could hear Porros call for him.

“Harrow! Duck!”

Instead, Harrow turned around, spotting a man who’d separated himself from the crowd. There was a blood-thirsty gaze in his eyes, and a crossbow in his hands. He quickly aimed the weapon at Harrow, whose eyes became large with surprise.

“For King and Country!” the crossbowman shouted out, pulling the trigger of the bow. Out of reflex, Harrow let himself drop to the floor, hitting the steps of the keep hard has he came down. The arrow whizzed overhead, missing him by a few inches. The crowd now roared and, instead of pouncing on the bowman, charged up the stairs. Porros shouted for them to stop, to stand back, but there was no avail. As quickly as his body would allow, Harrow got up again, drawing his sword. Under his breath, a prayer escaped.

“Lord All Around, who lives in all beings living or dead”

The knights all drew their swords, forming a semi-circle around the door of the keep with Harrow at the central arch. Harrow could hear the others pray with him, exactly the same prayer.

“I am about to sin against your creation, so that greater sins may be averted. Forgive me, oh Lord, for killing and destroying what is Yours was never my intention. My life stands in your service, now and always.”

“Now and always” the other knights said, nearly shouting the words with excitement.

Only a few minutes later, the crowd had dispersed again. The last people fled through narrow streets and open buildings, leaving the square totally deserted. The knights did not care to pursue. There was total silence among their ranks. Their swords and shields were bloodied, reflecting red instead of the regular mirror-silver. Their armour still gleamed in the morning sun, casting rays of light on the massacre in front of them. Dozens of people lay dead or dying on the steps, covered and bathing in blood, which run down the steps like little waterfalls. At the bottom of the steps lay the crossbowman, whom Harrow had personally dispatched. After a moment of silence, Harrow turned to Porros.

“Porros, you keep guard here. I’ll take two men and a cart and dispose of the bodies. Place the body of the shooter on a pike and place it above the central gate. If they try this thing again, we won’t be so lenient.”

The rest of the day was spent in silence, as Harrow and his knights carted off the bodies to the wall, pitching them over the edge for the wolves to feed with. Every time Harrow looked over the edge of the walls, more anger and contempt filled him. Contempt and anger that finally found their way out two months later, when the siege was lifted by royal troops.

The Sky Council

“I agree…” Harrow said, looking at the map “That we should not allow any of our cities to be besieged. It is a dangerous plan, with which much can go wrong. There is no telling if cities can withstand direct assaults from our enemies.”

“But both your plans, gentlemen, hinge on our enemies doing exactly what we expect them to do. There is no way of knowing whether they will” Harrow said, his right hand stroking his chin. His left hand was still kept staunchly on the hilt of his sword.

“If I understand Tevonia correctly, their ruler gains the support of his servants through military prowess. His army is made up not only of soldiers from his heartland, but also from the formerly independent buffer states. A lot of conscripted troops, of poor quality. If we break the central Tevonian troops from their crown lands, whose numbers have dwindled over the years, we can force their whole army to retreat. Perhaps their dictator will even lose support of his city.”

He turned towards the queen, to whom he looked with a kind smile around his lips.

“I believe, without certainty to that fact, that this was what your uncle was trying to accomplish, just before the end.”

“If we can defeat the Tevonians in a decisive battle, the Pomadians and Bascari, those damn opportunists, would think again before advancing any further into our territory.”

He looked at the map again. The memories... Ow, they all came flooding back as he saw all the places on the map he had seen. He had travelled far and wide, both in service of the king and in serve of his Order. He had helped to build bridges, but he had also slaughtered bandits. And for what? A kingdom that might not survive the next winter? Yes, and if he was given the same opportunity with the knowledge he had now, he would do it all again. Even if they perished now, and Saina ceased to exist forever, her people would not die. They would persist, as they always had. But not before Harrow had expended every last drop of blood in his body for the preservation of his realm. The preservation of his queen. Looking at the young girl, he could not help but think that even her future was worth it all.
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Postby The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Sat Jun 03, 2017 5:12 am

Duke Alexander Redding Von Clarifont.
The Sky Council Chambers.


"It doesn't need to withstand an assault sir. The reason you choose a siege is to avoid a battle. You can win a siege with minimal casualties. You starve your enemy out, that's the point. Why waste half your force storming the gates of a city defended by peasants when you can merely wait them out? Let's face it - the enemy's under no illusion that they're not winning. They have the luxury of time." He pauses briefly, to regain his breath, motioning to the map, ”We’ve tried to brute-force the Tevonians out of the war, and it ended in military disaster, and that was when we had some of our best men on the field. And if what you say is true - a long string of small victories are better for us, strategically than one decisive victory. If you’re a Tevonian peasant and your son’s been drafted and every day, you receive news of another defeat, what do you think of your leadership? One victory isn’t enough. They’ll merely regroup.”

With that he turns his attention to the plan he’d drawn up himself, ”And it relies on them to do as I’ve commanded, because it’s the only option they have. They can’t leave Allech unwatched - or they’ll be enveloped in the Crownlands - if they’ve any military thinkers in their ranks, they’ll know that it has to fall for them to win the war. And if we advance from Caerden, they’ll have to send a force to meet us - or either their siege of Allech gets encircled, or the army pushing for the Crownlands does.” Quickly he then pointed to the West, ”And if you think the Pomadians will withdraw, you’re mistaken. They may be opportunists, but they know we’re weak and even with the Temovians defeated, we’ll only have gotten weaker as they’ve gained momentum and strength. They’re a force to be reckoned with in their own regard. Their numbers even for us now, nevermind after we do battle with the Tevonians.And with my plan, if we defeat the Tevonian flank - we cut off their already dwindling supplies, meaning their final force nearing the Capitol may just surrender or shatter upon contact.We need to be conservative with our troops - we can’t hurl them into a meatgrinder of a battle with the enemy. We no longer have that luxury.”

It was heart wrenching to take jabs at his father and the former King’s strategy in such a way, but he saw the reality before them - the Tevonian forces were veterans, and many of Saina’s greatest had already perished, and those who remained were demoralized from constant defeat and setback - he couldn’t help but think to himself, should they engage the enemy head on, their forces would break - especially when confronted with professional, well disciplined and equipped soldiers, ”If we fight a large battle with the Tevonians and waste our troops - the others will merely strike while the iron’s hot and we’re licking our wounds. We can’t afford to sacrifice what few men we have left fighting the Tevonians, we’ll need all we’ve got to destroy the Pomadians. Possibly more.”

Despite the no doubt touchy subject, he maintained a cool and welcoming tone - hoping not to cause offense or stimulate heated argument, Alexander was head-strong and often set in his way, but he was never fond of political debate or confrontation, and had largely remained out of the wider political circles. Avalia being the exception to the rule - her relatively down to earth nature and humility appealing to him, as they were traits he could relate with - having spent so much time with the common man on the battlefield. Which, in all honesty - was one of the few places he felt comfortable these days. His sister often calling him a drab at heart. Which, no doubt was true - even when at home, he often dined with the commoners, believing strongly in the efficiency of the meritocracy - which was a defining feature of his rule in Duskhaven. His household guard was built up around those who proved most capable - not who had the most titles and honours. The officers in his army based on ability, not nobility. Which often put him at odds with the other members of the nobility - just as his non-confrontational and anti-scheming ways did.

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Postby Yuzhou » Sun Jun 04, 2017 1:16 pm

Queen Avalia Cindria
Chamber of the Sky Council

Avalia listened intently as the men each gave and debated their own opinions on how to proceed. It became rapidly clear that both the answer and the question to her problems were increasingly complex. Of this complexity, she had known, but a girlish part of her had hoped these men would be able to come to a decisive and direct conclusion. That her inexperience with military matters was the only reason she couldn't have formulated the key on her own, and not that the key itself was a difficult thing to forge.

Alexander gave his first introductory plan. By the time he was done, he quietly explained his purpose behind it to the queen as the other men started giving their ideas. Avalia nodded slowly, starting off on a positive note was probably...best. It could only uplift the motivation of the council. However, positive did not equate to realistic and so the queen listened carefully to the others, trying to take mental note of everything covered.

Conan O'Neill brought up a very striking point when he mentioned supplies. Images of previous years spent at Avalia's home came to mind instantly. Her and her sisters out in the fields of their father, only to finish the daily work there and having to move on and help those in the nearby villages. This fact Avalia had known by experience. The kingdom had raised grain taxes in the past, and it could not afford to do so again. Perhaps the greatest weakness Saina was suffering under was a dwindling foodsupply that could only be fixed by peasants, who are in return needed to field her battered and ragtag armies. She knew, however, simply by the map that the enemy would encounter similar problems eventually.

Harrow spoke next, advocating for a unified smashing of the main enemy army. Avalia's interest was peaked at the similarity it had with her uncles musings, with some key changes of course. She smiled back at the old knight when he explained his theory on Aol's fatal move.

By the time Alexander finished his second round of ideas, it was clear that there was some disagreement on the plans, with a general consensus placed on dealing with Tevonia first. Avalia considered all they had said with a deep concentration for a moment and then spoke before anyone else could offer more.

"My lords, it is clear to me that you all have expertly crafted opinions. I can see now why you have the reputations that you do, and while I think there is truth in each of your points, I think each misses out on a key aspect." she gave a deep breath and stood from her seat.
"I have no military experience nor do I have a tactical mind. But a few things stick out to me as pertinent to consider from each opinion offered. Duke O'Neill mentions the concept of supplies. Each of us can see, no doubt, that supplies will be a key factor in this war, and considering the location of their main force, the Tevonians likely worry just as much as we do of supplies." she gestured on the map with a hand the distance between the Tevonian border and where their army was last spotted.

"Furthermore, Duke von Clarifont mentions the idea of combining forces. I think this will be critical, considering the state of our troops. However, Master Harrow suggest we use that combined force to attack the main Tevonian army, while Duke Clarifont suggest we use it to attack their other force moving to Ailech. We all seem to agree that a siege should not be allowed to take place, although we believe in different reasons as to why it won't or how to prevent it."

She looked at each man carefully, before continuing. "When I was a girl, my father had told me about a time when he had visited Tevonia in his youth, long before war was ever a consideration. He recounted his wonder at the city, white and sparkling with tiled roofs of orange, red, and blue. Of twisting streets and cobbled alleys. I was most fascinated by the karst mountains there, both in pillar form and mound. 'Fuzzy mountains', I called them" she gave a brief chuckle before continuing. "But he also told me that as pleasant and clean the city seemed on the outside, on the inside, it was nothing but rot and decay. Like finding a beautiful shell on the shore, only to turn it over and find the putrid remains of whatever animal lived inside. My father very rarely ever put a filter on what he told us, and so his recounts of the aristocracy were enough to make any girl blush and pale at the same time."

The queen let her story sink in for a moment. "My point in telling you this, is that I think Master Harrow is right in his approach, but wrong in his expected outcome. I do not believe the Tevonians will lose faith in their leader. No matter if they are losing the war. We call Sovereign a dictator, because he rules with absolute authority, but we in Saina often forget he gained power by crushing the monarchy and the aristocracy. This is a man that was granted control because he promised to avenge Tevonia's wounds by burning out corruption with light and sword. He not only did just that, but he also turned Tevonia from a small coastal swatch of color into an eastern empire on the political map. My lords, I believe he means to conquer the continent and then from there who knows. Simply put: I believe the only way to smash Tevonia for good is to either do away with Sovereign, or kill every last Tevonian soldier that wants to resist."

She turned to Alexander. "Duke von Clarifont does not believe we should attack the Tevonians head on. However, I believe he underestimates their drive to win this war, which is one of attrition and we have home advantage. If Duke O'Neill's suggestions are correct, and I believe they are, the capital will not be able to stand their artillery. Yes, assaulting fortifications are costly. Even I know that. But if anyone can do it, it will be Tevonia, and assuredly they would succeed attacking this city.

The queen finally sat down and took a sip of liquid from the chalice in front of her. "I think we agree that it will take a combined effort for any plan of ours to work. What Harrow is suggesting is risky, but if we pool ourselves together and strike at once, we might be able to manage it. Either way, we must come to a conclusion tonight. Time is running thin.




Pomadian Occupied Saina
The assembled officers watched suspiciously as servants came and took away Royo's lunch table, containing and empty silver plate that once contained grilled fish and a goblet filled with yellow Pomadian wine. Such a table was quickly replaced by a more administrative one, filled with empty writing paper and ink bottles. As Royo wiped his mouth lightly, more chairs were added to his new set up and a few select gentlemen joined him.
"Salut.", they greeted him as they sat.

Royo adjusted himself, whetted a quill with ink, and the motioned at the first officer in line to step forward. The man did so slowly and cautiously, watching Royo with a distinctly prey-like look.
"Captan Edico Garmul, by the king's decree, you stand under judgement for your past service." Royo said before leaning over to discuss in whispers with his compatriots. The men dashed through records, covering every aspect of this particular officer's career in the Pomadian army. When they were finished, Royo leaned back and rasped a gauntlet covered hand on the table. Captan Garmul stood very still.
"It has been decided that you will retain your position in the army. Lord guard the king."
With that, the captan gave a visible sigh of relief and exited the assembly. Royo wrote the name and decision down and called the next individual forth.

He knew this particular man, and it did not take long to reach a decision.
"Onae Visculta." he said, a look of anger crawled over his face. He didn't give his fellows time to research the man's record. "of all the sniveling rodents I will have to rat out today, it is ironic I get you Visculta as my second decision. Do you know why that is?"

"No, Sentor.", Visculta replied, a half-toothed grin crossing his face.

"Because," Citrone answered. "I'm going to make an example out of you." he leaned forward with one army on the table and motioned to his left at a large man, who's baggy clothing of bright colors contrasted sharply against the Pomadian breastplates. "Barduk."
The man stepped forward and grabbed Visculta by the arm. The officer resisted sharply, but could not break Barduk's grip, making the mistake to go for his sword. That received him a punch.

"Onae Visculta, for your honorless service in his majesty's army, your insubordinate and despicable crimes at Hammerhus, and you terrorizing of your own men, I, Royo Citrone sentence you to death by hanging."

There was a startled shuffle in the line of officers, with even the reviewing members next to Citrone turning to him sharply. Normally, he was either handing out discharges or allowing skilled officers to retain there rank, but with this one, he was going to make his will known.

"No, Sentor! Wait, wait!" Visculta shouted frantically as Barduk dragged him away. "Please Sentor! I'm innocent, please! Please!" the man's cries because louder and more frantic until he was finally silenced by a particularly hard hit to the face by Barduk again. The next officer to approach was pale white.

Citrone looked up at his banner behind him. The yellow lemon on olive waving powerfully on the command flagpole. He remembered briefly his time long ago as a young man, eager to prove himself in the army. "The Lemon Knight" is how they mocked him back then, when he was so full of hope and naivety. All he had ever wanted was to become like the brave and honorable knights he heard about from his mother's nighttime stories. To ride the country bringing justice to the people.
The army had very brutally and mercilessly ripped that out of him. Men like Visculta had turned it into a torture weapon, even. But look where the Lemon Knight was now...tasked by the king of Pomadia himself to reform and lead his military. Perhaps, there was a part of him that still dreamed that dream. Now was the time to live it.
I have been previously known as Apfeldonia and Thimbyrland

Oh way down south in the land of cotton...

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Postby The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Sun Jun 04, 2017 2:18 pm

Duke Alexander Redding Von Clarifont.
The Sky Council Chambers.


”Apologies, I fear you’ve misheard - I brought up the supplies whilst asking Lord O’neill the situation in his territories. And I’m not saying that they couldn’t assault the city - I’m saying they won’t. Pomadia won’t stop just because we surrender to the Tevonians, and I think they know that. If they waste their army attacking us and launching an all-out assault, they’ll defeat themselves, like we all said - Pomadia’s a vulcher, they’ll strike when they see opportunity and that’s the perfect one to take both us and Tevonia out of the picture.”

He motions to the map, ”What I’m saying is - if we defeat the Tevonians in smaller - scattered battles, in a more unconventional manner, we’ve got this in the bag. To fight them in one meat-grinder of a battle is suicidal - thousands will die on both sides, and we’ll lose the war. Regardless of who wins the battle. If we fight smaller engagements and utilize their division - they’ll rout early into battle due to our overwhelming force relative to theirs and that means less men die in fighting. We rout these two smaller forces, chase them down and shatter them, their main force headed here is stranded, encircled and demoralized. You thus defeat Tevonia with limited casualties and still maintain the strength to fight the Pomadians with a now reinvigorated force who believe there’s hope.”

With that he knocked over each of the Tevonian pucks, moving their own towards the West, ”When you’re fighting a war of attrition - you don’t throw all your men into one battle, you wear your enemy down over a prolonged period and you break their will. Resistance in the border kingdoms and principalities too’ll be hitting them hard. They can’t afford to seem weak - which they will if we go through with hitting them in smaller doses like I suggest.”

He quietly arose from his seat, ”Her majesty’s right in saying that defeating them in battle won’t break them entirely as a nation - their leader needs to perish and we need to be sure someone worse doesn’t rise up to replace him. Which again - is another reason to follow through with my plan, if he’s encircled, there’s no escape. His head could be on a pike within a few days of the first engagement. We won’t win this war through brute force, and I can’t advocate an approach that will send hundreds of my men, men who I dine with, who I drink with - many of whom I consider to be friends, to their deaths on a hunch that it might end the war on one front. Not even the whole thing.”

For a moment there, he’d lost his cool - his tone raising ever so slightly, but not enough to sound angry, merely impassioned. He quietly adjusted himself, regaining his composure before sitting down, [i}”If we were to win a decisive battle with the Tevonians, both our forces grinding it out on the field - it’d be phyric at best and tactical. We need strategic victories, one which lay the ground-works for long-term victory, not some short moment of glory that sends us to our graves.”[/i]


Lady Alisa Von Clarifont.
Duskhaven.


As the Sky Council assembled in the Capitol, as did the court of Duskhaven - advisors from the township, Knights and various counts gathered before the Lady regent, ”And thus, I formally command, that my ever loyal and devoted vassals do honour their legal obligations to my house, and bring their banners to meet at Duskhaven - so that we may rejoin the fighting against those who would threaten the sovereignty of our Kingdom. Long live the Queen and Long Live Duskhaven..” The castellan concluded the letter before the court, a brief silence soon followed by whispers and gossip, only to be silenced again by the raising of a petite hand and the voice of their regent, ”Gentlemen - at my brother’s decree, you’re hereby summoned to raise all available levies and to rally your banners here, at the fortress of Duskhaven - as to await further instructions from the Duke and the crown.”

With this brief word, she arose from her throne - with such a smooth and calming demeanor, that very few could boast. Her voice soon filling the room - not a hint of emotion in her tone, yet it demanded all listen, [i]”Let us brace ourselves to our duty, and so bare ourselves - that should our great nation perish in the coming days, people will forever sing the praises of the bravery and devotion of the people of Duskhaven. That they shall remember us for our unwillingness to capitulate in face of overwhelming force. Let them know - we fought them in the alps, the fields and in the once glorious city streets. That we fought them with the honour and dignity demanded of men of Duskhaven, with courage unparalleled by any within our world. Never, for so long as a Clarifont sits upon the seat of Duskhaven shall we bow before a foreign monarch, never shall we surrender and never shall we be broken. Long live the people of Dusk, long live the Clarifont dynasty and long live Queen Avalia Cindria. Ride to Dusk! Onwards, to victory!”

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Postby Kaledoria » Sun Jun 04, 2017 7:52 pm

Duke Conan of Tir Magh
At the Sky Council


"Their troops are good at arms but yes, they are also conscripts, with the poor moral this implies. For example, a few month ago, the morning after a battle we had won, eight soldiers came to my army. They surrendered their weapons in return for passage to the north. They explained, that they were actually Dyfelders and had only fought, because they feared for the safety of their family at home but now that their Tevonian captain was killed and they were presumed dead, too, they family would be compensated and not be harassed, as long as they could just vanish." Conan said.

"I'm not saying, desertion is a big problem for the Tevonians, but it's not everything running smoothly for them either.
Now about their army. Their main force has been pushing west for the greater part of the last year. An attempt to take this city seams like the only reasonable conclusion for that troop movement." Conan tried to think himself into Alexander's plan. "Well, if we are assuming, that they will be laying siege to the capital, Ailech seams like the reasonable rally point for our operations. From there we could sweep their rear-guarding armies out of the Kingdom. However, this would mean, that their main army would be supplied for quite a while longer, a week, maybe two until we have taken control over the southern roads. My plan would put more immediate pressure on their main army by cutting the suply line near the inner border between Tir Magh and the Crownlands. The main risk I see in it is not, that a Tevonian side army could lay siege to Ailech but rather that even under this plan, if their main army is reasonable supplied, they should still be able to get to the capital and have a day or two to spare to storm it. Now, that seams like no times to prepare but I have seen them trying to do something like that before."

Conan looked at the queen: "The main question thus is, can the capital hold against an assault of their main army, while the armies of our duchies are further east? I would estimate, there should be at least eight-hundred to thousand troops here for my plan, and thousand-three-to-five-hundred for Alexander's." From her previous words in support of Harrow's plan, it seamed like she would not share his optimism of holding out against the Tevonian main force with just 800 or 1500 men behind the walls. If that was so, than Conan was willing to join the Kingdom's army again with half his soldiers, leaving only a basic allotment of siege defenders in his duchy. "Should we follow Harrow's plan and defend the capital right away, I should mention, that my army might have had a decent detachment of cavalry some years ago but this was the first thing we sacrificed to the war. However, we will need such troops to run them down after we have - hopefully - defeated them." He still did not like the plan for all the reasons he and Alexander had mentioned. Even though he had decided to not let his face of optimism falter, he thought about the possible scenarios of a Sainan loss. The Bascari would plunder everything. Maybe some of them would rise up from their barbaric nature and establish themselves as the new high nobility of the lands. Conan preferred the possibility of a Pomadian victory. While they would maybe lock the young queen away in some oubliette for the rest of her life, at least, they, too had an aristocratic society and it was more likely for the Pomadian king to respect the rights of the Sainan nobility to their land. The Tevonian (and in extension any land-split between the different invaders) were the worst possible outcome. Under their godless republic, every noblemen would have to fear for his life.
Last edited by Kaledoria on Sun Jun 04, 2017 8:07 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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Postby Second Helghan Empire » Wed Jun 07, 2017 3:50 am

Count Siegfried Brockhouse
Cathedral During the Coronation


The Coronation was a note worthy event. Siegfried clung to the side of the room as he watched the procession. As the new Queen strode down the aisle in the center Siegfried couldn't help his first few thoughts. A beautiful woman, and a young queen, both were true but the count also noticed how she carried herself. That is to say, that she carried herself before the masses to her throne and the crown. She showed no obvious doubt, no obvious indecision, and seemed to be resigned to the task required of her. Her duty to Saina. As his thoughts hit on that the shout from the priest boom out over those assembled and Siegfried like the rest of those gathered replied in earnest.

As the ceremony drew to a close Siegfried completed some short business with his Merchants, two of which were also carrying messages from home, and the third of which Siegfried had known growing up. He had assigned this man to collect the Queen's gift for the coronation from the Brockhouse Estate in the Capital and take it to the Palace later that day, and it would take a small amount of preparation for such a thing. Turning away from them the Count made his way gradually to where his presence had been requested as a member of a royal council of some sort. Surprising to say the least, with Siegfried having only been a minor Baron two years ago, He was now one of the wealthiest Counts in Saina, but he remained a less memorable member of Court and had few if any personal dealings with members of the Royal Family. The young Count, could not even figure out why he had been chosen to join the council, but was more than obligated to appear.


Chamber of the Sky Council

After bowing his head and giving his warm greetings to the Queen, Siegfried had reserved himself quietly to the edge of the table. He listened intently as the conversation of the room almost immediately turned to the topic of the Tevonian incursion. A simple glance at the map would tell anyone the fact that Siegfried's lands like Duke Conan's were embroiled in conflict. Until recently Brockshire had avoided most direct violence and had fought in Tir Magh. Yet things seemed to be growing worse and worse each passing year. No that was not right, with each passing day they grew bleaker for Brockshire and Saina as a whole. Things needed to be resolved quickly or the damage done to Saina would be even more terrible than what had been done so far. Not to mention the possibility of Irreparable damage to Saina's workforce and food stores if the war continued on.

While initially agreeing with the fact mentioned by Duke Clarifont that smaller fights would need to be leveraged against the Tevonians to hamper their spirits, he felt much more fond of Duke Conan's push for a singular larger battle. The need for a quick and devastating blow to knock the Tevonians out of the war was apparent with the soon to be finished supplies that remained for the nation. Much of what excess there had been was already traded to those in Tir Magh to ensure their survival and continued ability to fight. Furthermore, the Queen's point that the leader of Tevonia had to be eliminated before it could be properly eliminated as a threat. However the one thing that echoed the most in Siegfried's mind however was the simple mention that this was Saina, and the Tevonians couldn't support a long drawn out fight so far from their supply.

"Pardon me," Broke in Siegfried, standing upright from his seat. "If I may, perhaps an alternative plan is necessary. Both of the Duke's have viable strategies, but neither plays on our enemy's major weakness as well as they should. The Tevonian's weakest place is hear near the former border. They have to forage from our lands, or bring up their own supplies from behind them. Either way their thinnest number of forces remain at their rear." The Count slid his finger slightly down the map. It steadied on the Sainan Alps forming the southern portion of Tir Magh and most of Brockshire.

"As Duke Conan said earlier it is necessary that we relieve the siege of Kaer Gestren." Siegfried's fingers traced from the Mountains in Brockshire to the Mountains in Tir Magh before it hesitated on the old border and the edge of the mountains. "Taking a force from Brockshire and the mountains of Tir Magh we can follow the edge of the mountains using the same route the Tevonians invaded from and take them from behind with a much smaller force. This will simultaneously cut off our enemy with the placement of Kaer Gestren but also weaken the enemy forces laying sieges across Tir Magh. Then with it's full power we can combat the main Tevonian force between the capital and Kaer Gestren. All that needs to be done is a delaying force from the capital slow them while our troops maneuver." This plan will eliminate the Tevonian force one way or another as their only courses of action will be to move south and try to flee through the mountains, fight their way back east past newly reinforced bastions, or surrender. All of which weaken the enemy so greatly they will be easily crushed allowing us to turn our full attention to the west and south. Or atleast that was what Siegfried saw in his head.

Siegfried sat back down having finished what he had to say. His proposed strategy didn't offer up any numbers or expected time, and it only focused on the Tevonians, however he was certain it would eliminate the most prominent of the three threats baring down on the throat of Saina.
Well now, that hibernation has gotten boring, daddy is back again.

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Lunas Legion
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Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Lunas Legion » Wed Jun 07, 2017 3:52 pm

Anaya Sercerius, First Brightlady of the Grand Order of the Blinding Winds and Duchess of Vanyedia

Coronations were always a strange event for the First Bright of the Grand Order. Their title as head of an Order entitled them to a place with the other Knights of the Banners, while their title of Duke or Duchess of Vanyedia precluded them from assuming such a position, as they had worldly lands and subjects to look after on behalf of the monarch as well as deities and holy figures to serve.

In the end, as with many things, the Grand Order had managed to reach an answer. They were barred from the coronation proper, as they neither fit the category of Knight of the Banner or Noble of the Realm in full, and they would swear their own oath on as both First Bright of the Grand Order of the Blinding Winds and Duke or Duchess of Vanyedia as soon as they were in the presence of the reigning monarch given that the First Bright rarely left Vandus.

Anaya herself was exhausted. One horse had died under her on the way here; she'd had to buy another, which had gone lame, and found a third wandering, fully saddled, without a rider. That horse had taken a liking to her, however, so she had made it to the capital on the day of the coronation. Fortunately her attendance was not expected or required, so she was able to wash and change out of her riding leathers into something more suitable for the first meeting of this 'Sky Council', and to swear her oath of loyalty to the new monarch.

She entered the Chamber of the Sky Council in silence, shut the door behind her, turned towards the queen with her right arm across her chest and head bowed and recited the specific pledge of allegiance used by all those who had held her titles before her. "As First Brightlady of the Grand Order of the Blinding Winds and Duchess of Vanyedia, I, Anaya Sercerius, pledge my personal service and loyalty to the Queen, the service and loyalty of the members of the Grand Order of the Blinding Winds to the Queen and the service and loyalty of the people of the Duchy of Vanyedia to the Queen, may the Lord All Around strike down any who falter in this oath."

She breathed out, and took one of the remaining empty seats at table.
Last edited by William Slim Wed Dec 14 1970 10:35 pm, edited 35 times in total.

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Yuzhou
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Ex-Nation

Postby Yuzhou » Fri Jun 09, 2017 12:13 am

Queen Avalia Cindria
Council of the Sky Chamber

Avalia listened to Alexander speak, taking note and worry as his tone grew louder and more harsh. She didn't mean to misrepresent his views, it was simply that a thousand thoughts raced through her head at once while considering all the options. When Alexander's tension and anger clearly reached it's zenith with his standing, Avalia jumped ever slightly before trying to quell any similar urges.

What here friend had said made sense, but then Duke Conan added to it, discussing Tevonian moral, conscripts, and their supply line. He also touched upon the main reasoning behind Avalia's agreeing with Master Harrow's initial plan: that of the capital. With Tevonia's army so close and mainly centered in one group, it was clear as to what they may try to do. The truth was, the Queen was fully uncertain that the capital could hold any assault without major additional reinforcing from elsewhere. She let Duke Conan finish, taking mental note of all that he said. It was clear that these two men, Alexander and Conan, were all too familiar with fighting the Tevonians and that they were perhaps the best she had for strategic minds. Yet, she couldn't help but feel clueless in the wake of this knowledge.
"I think your ideas wise and worthy, my lords." She said. "But I simply fear that the enemy will strike here at the capital, and so that is why I have endorsed Master Harrow's plan. I do not like trying to face the Tevonians in a large pitched battle. All of you should know what that could entail. Yet I fear that without significant help, we would not be able to defend the very city we sit in if the Tevonians should attack."

She paused, frustration clouding red on her face. "All of you are aware of what Sovereign can do." she said softly. "My uncle may not have been the best Weightless to ever exist, but he taught me much of what I know, and when he was...killed, Sovereign was all too easily able to counter-act my uncles own pushings, along with the resistance of many other men."

The Queen took a moment to collect herself. "I am afraid, my lords, that Sovereign will be able to break our walls and rush his troops in with minimal time."
It was true that he was and had always been her main fear. This man, this...monster, had killed her uncle. He had killed Alexander's father, killed Harrow's war, and killed this realm's king. It would not be a lie to claim that he stalked her nightmares, though she had never seen the man.

It was then that Count Siegfried Brockhouse had pitched in his ideas of attacking the enemy weak points, specifically by breaking their flank and smaller forces, ensuring pincer move against the main Tevonian army. The count had thus far been quiet in the meeting, likely considering the options layed before he like the queen was. His idea played on both Duke's ideas, wiping clean the smaller armies while crushing the main force, and Avalia saw little fault with it. But it brought up the one point that haunted her.

"Very well, my lords. I see the virtue in your approach. If you can supply an effective way to keep the Tevonians from taking this city, then I will agree to attacking the enemy following the advices you've so far advocated. But if the capital falls, Saina will fall. We may run, but the support of the people will falter, and it is as Duke von Clarifont says: the Pomadians and Bascari will only profit from this city falling anyways, completely shattering any hope to take it back."

It was then that the council door opened with a blast of air and a young woman entered. After closing the door, she crossed her chest with an arm and bowed, announcing her pledge of allegiance before moving to take a seat. Avalia shot up instantly from her chair as this took place. "Brightlady Anaya, Saina and her monarch welcome the fidelity of you and your most holy order as well as our most gracious subjects in Vanyedia."

The queen had been waiting for this woman, having taken special note of her name on the list of councilors. The Brightlady being in somewhat a similar situation as the young queen herself.
Avalia waited for the woman to take her seat before sitting down herself and explaining the situation that they had been discussing to her newest arrival.



Somewhere in the Eastern Heartlands

The sound of rain drops pattered softly against the roof of the tent, like a primordial drum, enhanced by the soft candlelight breathing against the darkness inside. Several men sat cross-legged in a circle, silently listening to the world around them. All five of them melded with the shadows of the tent with their black robes. The air inside was warm and comfortable, a welcoming refuge from the wet chill outside. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

"Geridon", the lead figure broke the silence, his face a plane of shadowed and lit angles in the dark. The quaking of the candles seemed in-tune with his breathing specifically.

"Yes, my Sovereign?" the clean shaven man to the figure's left spoke up. The dancing light revealed he was less youthful than he initially looked.

"You say you knew the new Sainan king's father?"

"Yes, my Sovereign?"

Sovereign opened his eyes and looked up at the man he was speaking to. "What can you tell me of the girl?"

Geridon met his leader's eyes and then lowered his own gaze reverently. "Nothing, my Sovereign. I knew Helvor only in youth."

While the two exchanged, the other gentlemen did not interrupt. They sat silently as they always had, eyes closed and faces turned towards the ground.
"Did Helvor know Diya?" Sovereign asked.

Geridon's faced darkened, even in the shade of the tent, and his eyes gained a distant look.
"Yes, Sovereign." the man choked as his face tightened and he went to speak further. The other men opened their eyes in surprise, but quickly lowered them back. Only one, fit with white beard similar to that of his face mask, kept his head up. Torche, who eyed Geridon sympathetically.

Sovereign raised his hand softly to silence his general.
"You will learn more about this girl, Geridon."

Before the general could reply, the door to the tent opened gently, letting a small blast of cold air sweeping in. The candles flickered, and everyone raised their attention to whoever entered.
"Papa.." the young raven-haired woman said, dropping her wool shawl as she made her way to a seat next to Sovereign.

Sovereign raised his face to her, fully illuminating it to the light, before lowering back down again and speaking. "Daughter, sit and think."

"And what are we thinking about?", she asked, taking up the proper position for contemplation.

"The war." Sovereign replied.

"Nothing much new." she sighed, letting a cascade of black curls run down her shoulders as she lowered her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father turn to her. Turning to look at him back, the man watched her silently for a moment, then he sized Geridon before once again turning back to her.
"Tahla." he said. "I have a mission for you."
I have been previously known as Apfeldonia and Thimbyrland

Oh way down south in the land of cotton...

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Kaledoria
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Ex-Nation

Postby Kaledoria » Sat Jun 10, 2017 6:00 am

Duke Conan O' Neill
Council of the Sky Chamber


"The Sovereign is with his army?" Conan asked surprised. "Then he is definitely aiming for a fast victory. They will be going to attack the city if they see any change to succeed. This means we will definitely have to reinforce the army here. We can not move them all here, however. If we do this, than they will start a siege and we would have to watch them take the Kingdom with the remainder of their army bit by bit or we would have to sally out and attack their fortified siege positions. That would be bad. Ideally, they will attack the city, get repelled with little loss on our side, then we have the initiative. If we use it to gut their supply lines and thus force them to abandon their siege, we do have the problem, that our force is divided in two. While their army will be vulnerable on the move, if they manage to fight the second army, that is supposed to stop them and the army from the city following them in separate battles, we are at a major disadvantage. Thus the other option is, to keep the other army nearby and make our counter-move within hours of their failed assault. This required them to be speedy or otherwise, the Tevonian army will dispatch them first and then attack the city. Both plans can work or fail and the balance of forces between the city defenders and the mobile army will determine the initial risk against the chance of success in the final battle."

Duke Conan reconsidered the walls of the capital. They were good stonework but the sheer size of the city was a natural disadvantage to it's defensibility. It would have a lower density of soldiers per wall-yard. The surrounding terrain did not help either, there was no mountainside nor cliffs, like in Ailech, that guarded any direction of attack. "It is reasonable to place some more men into the city then necessary and lure them into a hasty attack by hiding some of the soldiers."

Conan went through the numbers in his head again. 2000 was most probably enough for a successful defense but was it enough for the level of victory, that was needed to deal a heavy blow to the Tevonian army, so they would fall into disorder, while the defenders were doing well enough for a second battle?
Last edited by Kaledoria on Sun Jun 11, 2017 2:25 am, edited 2 times in total.

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The Vekta-Helghast Empire
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Vekta-Helghast Empire » Mon Jun 12, 2017 1:15 pm

Duke Alexander Redding Von Clarifont.
The Sky Council Chambers.


Following is slight loss of temper, the young duke felt it better to hold his tongue for the time being - eyes simply drifting between the various figures as they spoke - noting it down mentally whenever he noticed repetition in his words, albeit slightly changed. Which had been a surprising theme of the night. However - it was with the arrival of Anaya Sercerius that he seemed to regain his interest in the situation. She was a woman he’d only ever heard of - rarely if ever laying eyes upon her. And given the erudite-like descriptions he’d received, he was rather taken aback and surprised by her appearance. He watched her closely as she swooped across the room, pledging herself to Avalia, rolling a coin between his fingers idly. Giving a slight nod of the head towards her as she took up her seat. He’d heard her to be a great scholar and among the most talented weightless users in the realm. And he couldn’t help but have a great deal of admiration for her, for in a relatively similar length of life as he - she’d achieved so much more.

When everyone had resettled, he took the opportunity to speak - though it wasn’t to give any further suggestion, merely to provide the Queen with an opportunity, ”Ultimately, your highness - It’s your decision to make. Not the council’s. Although some of those here are among the brightest and best in the realm - you are Monarch, and people will only accept a directive with your marking.” He spoke briskly and suggestively - clearly pushing for her to act decisively, ”But you should be careful - for this one act will determine how your reign begins. And will mark the start of your legacy.”

Once again, he paused to take a breath, ”But regardless of your choice - the great houses gathered before you this day shall stand by you. Through victory and defeat - through life, and death.” Providing one of his final statements on the matter, he returned to his idle and somewhat distanced posture, eyes now glancing over the others gathered, as he awaited their final comments and judgements. He’d said his piece, and if she wasn’t convinced by now - then he couldn’t think of anything additional to add that may sway her, without potentially causing offense.

Knowing there was little more he could do, he entered a deep sense of thought and contemplation - day-dreaming of better days, like those in his youth - when courtly affairs were but a thing in the distant future and his biggest worry was if he’d do well in training that week. When he could talk to Avalia as a friend, not as his Monarch, when such trivial titles and mannerisms were - irrelevant. How times had changed and so drastically so. No doubt, neither of them ever believing they’d be where they are today. And he couldn’t help but notice the others he’d been assembled with - men and women of incredible prestige and talent, whilst he sat there on the basis of very little. At first it had made him feel insignificant before them, but as the evening had went on - he came to feel a sense of pride and honour, realising that for him to have been there - Avalia’s Uncle had to have seen something in him.


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