Seize the Throne [Open/IC/Fantasy]

[The V O I D]

Seize the Throne

Out of Character Thread

---

This world has felt a rather large loss. This world is called Gaia. It is a world with one continent surrounded by endless ocean. The continent is named after the Terran Empire - which has reigned over it since, perhaps, the dawn of civilizations. It matters not. Terra - and Gaia with it - may yet suffer from the tragic loss.

What great tragedy has struck, you ask? Was it the Daemons, who dare to inhabit Gaia and taint it with the scents of the Underworld? Was it, perhaps, a great plague that has begun sweeping through Terra, slowly destroying Gaia's life?

No. It was none of these; at least these threats, the Empire has faced before and could, mayhap, recover from. Empress Artemis II Regina, the last living member of House Regine, has died of an unknown illness. She had no proclaimed no Emperor-Consort, and she had no children. There is no one to sit on the Terran throne for the first time in history.

It is because of this that various members of the nobility and the military, along with members of races who had lived peacefully under Terra's reign, have become suddenly full of a deathly tension. Every House wants their House to be the one sitting upon the Throne of Gaia. Every House wants theirs to be in command of all of Terra, and all of Gaia through Terra's mighty power. And even still, every non-human race has begun to consider if they wish to remain ruled by the Terrans now that the fair-but-firm House Regine is extinct.

Of all the nobility, the most likely to succeed any chance at claiming the Throne of Gaia is Lord Jonathan XIV Carnifex, of the House Carnifex. With such a clear and obvious likely successor, one might wonder why there is a crisis within the Empire's very unity, to begin with. It is a simple answer: House Carnifex is, perhaps, the most repugnant of the noble Houses - and it was only kept at bay through House Regine's control over the Gaian Throne, for the Lords of the House feared reprimand too much to speak openly of their ideals.

Now, without House Regine? Should the House Carnifex lay hold over the Gaian Throne, all under Terra would be at the tender mercies of Jonathan XIV - who has been accused of allowing rampant slaving guilds, as well as the purging and murder of races not 'human' enough, among other heinous crimes.

As for what stake you have in this, well, I imagine that you, yourself, are a noble who leads a House. Or, perhaps, you are a village leader, tired of the old Houses proclaiming their right to rule? Or - or even more interesting, maybe you are a non-human who has never questioned living under the reign of the Empire until House Regine became extinct, and the risk of living under House Carnifex became very apparent?

Time will tell who shall seize the Gaian Throne - for your sake, whoever you are, I hope it isn't the Lord of Carnifex.

---

Lord Jonathan XIV Carnifex
The Lord Carnifex's Personal Carriage
En Route to the Grand Palace of the Regine Estate
Terra-Primira/Imperial City/Thronecity of the Terran Empire

---

“My Lord, we are about to arrive within the Grand Palace of the Regine Estate's front gardens,” Jonathan heard his servant inform him from the front of his carriage, led by horses and guarded by Inquisitors as well as his personal Court Guards. The servant's voice continued, “Shall you require anything before we arrive, My Lord?”

Jonathan felt his lips curve into a gentle smile as he said, “No, but thank you for informing me of our imminent arrival.”

Politeness was important, as Father taught him quickly. He would never allow Jonathan to be impolite - without good reason, at any rate. Still, the “Regine Estate” was poorly named, in Jonathan's opinion. But, then, the House Regine always did assume they'd never go extinct. It was truly unfortunate that Empress Regine had to go and disappoint them in death as she did.

Ah, well, soon enough it would be the Grand Palace of the Carnifex Estate. Jonathan grinned to himself, containing his laughter at the thought. Yes, he could see himself upon the Gaian Throne: Emperor of Terra. What an amazing thought.

Do not think that you can escape your obligations, Lord Carnifex, a harsh voice whispered into Jonathan's mind, and he suppressed a grimace. He glanced down at his shoulder, a snake slithering down and hiding inside a compartment within his carriage, its voice carrying in his mind even still, or He will be most... displeased.

Jonathan suppressed another grimace, even as a servant opened his carriage's door.

Ah, it seemed they had arrived. Perfect timing. With a moment to collect himself, he put up his charm and polite grin: after all, he was the Lord Carnifex... for now. If need be, he would be the Master of the Inquisitorial Order - he was certain he could find a way to... expose anyone who challenged him for some form of crime or heresy or another.

But for now, the charming facade of the Lord Carnifex would do; after all, his fellows in the Court only had rumors and accusations about his character. They had no valid evidence - or, if they did, they'd never gotten him thrown out of the Court before. And with no one on the Throne, they definitely couldn't now.

Yes, the Throne would be his, he decided. He didn't want to think of what would happen if the Throne fell to someone else - or, Gods Above forbid, the Empire itself fractured. That would not do, no...

Pleasant thoughts, now, Jonathan. It's time to earn your Throne, Jonathan thought to himself.

[Woodstovia]

Lord Aerion d'Autriche
the Grand Palace of the Regine Estate
Terra-Primira

A great commotion could be heard outside the palace as a flood of horses and caravans piled into the stable. The young lord evidently viewed this meeting less like a solemn gathering of nobles to decide the fate of the world and more like a party waiting to be had. Chests of various expensive gifts and rewards had been hauled up as had been wagons of food which his men had thrown to the crowds as they worked their way through the city, the young lord blowing kisses and waving to the masses who adored him. A few loaves of bread wouldn't go amiss if he truly was to be emperor, and little displays of power like this could make the difference in such important moments. Besides his lands were rich and fertile and unlike the inbred wolf-fuckers to the north or the petty island kings or whoever else decided to turn up Aerion could actually afford to spend this much.

Nobody can compete with me said a powerful voice in his head and he smiled at the sensation. Ever since the death of the beloved Empress his thoughts had grown more powerful, louder in his head as if the chains were thrown off. He viewed the voice as the brutally honest side of himself now unleashed by the discord he felt in the world.

A small entourage of warriors dismounted with their lord, all dressed in heavy, cream colored plate with flowing purple cloaks and golden pins in the shape of the eagles wing, the symbol of house d'Autriche. Aerion was dressed lightly in comparison, in rich velvets and silks, leather hunting gloves and a cream cloak. He never wore a helmet when not in battle, refusing to disguise his good looks.At his waist hung an elaborate broadsword, sheathed for now but the amethyst set in it's pommel beat with unnatural power most failed to detect.

Vibrant and rich colors shimmered from the entourage as Aerion entered the palace, the personification of generosity; he went around the guards, giving each a kiss on the cheek in customary Aceiwyn fashion and handing them various gifts taken at random from the chests which were dragged inside. Eventually Aerion came upon the lord Carnifex and embraced him before kissing him on the cheek. Aerion was oiled and perfumed and smelled of the summer's breeze as he brought a great mithril shawl forward.

"Mithril!" he beamed "it's the hardest metal in the world, I've always wanted a suit of it for myself but once we found a deposit I realized it would fit perfectly on the most esteemed lord in all of Terra." he eyed the armour jealously, only reluctantly handing it off and sighing. "What a shame that a meeting between two great people such as ourselves should be tainted with such horror. The end of a bloodline, the end of the Empress beloved by all. I heard the news in the morning and couldn't eat all day, my stomach was so revolted at the idea that something so abhorrent should happen!" he pouted. In truth he had eaten but the others didn't have to know that. He looked the count up and down. Remember how clever he is said the voice, louder than usual and Aerion blinked at the sudden impact of it he'll smile and laugh but no man who commands the inquisition as he does is a dullard.

[Bla Ary]

Mako Mordue and Company, Main Street of Atheo

The daydream didn't seem to end. Soldiers, not militia or peace keepers, marched down the main street of Atheo. Thousands of them, marching in blocks to the capital building. Whether this was a dream or nightmare no one was sure, but something had changed.

Thresh's apprentice, the imperial envoy led them. Beside him stood the cities heads of security. Only now they each stood decorated with an iron badge. In fact, the badge was everywhere. On the soldiers, the vehicles, even the beasts.



People watched in stunned silence as the army finally reached the capital building. Where they came to a halt. They still stretched all the way down too the end of the main street. There was the crackle of magic energy, and the voice of the Envoy boomed over the city.

"Citizens of Atheo, I ask you this. Is a man entitled to his own sovereignty? Has he an inalienable right to autonomy? No, says the empire, we are entitled to this Gaiea. No, we are the divinely chosen rulers of all we see. For centuries we have toiled away for Terra, Charcharions working towards the future of the land dwellers. But Thresh, he rejected these notions. As he died this morning mourning our once great city, he told me something. "Build an army. Take the city. Restore our honor." Thresh cared deeply for our city, and the future of our people. Now, I tell you this. Thresh worked tirelessly in the background for years to bring Atheo to a self sustaining state. Today, our army the Kraken, marches on the capital building. Today, we assert our own right to rule, as Charcharions. Let the empire no longer enforce it's pretty bureaucracy. Let the noble houses no longer squabble over our goods. Today, every man woman and child will feel the prosperity that comes of independence, for we are the Charcharions, and we say this ends now! As the envoy of the state, I Mako Mordue hereby decree our secession from the Empire, and crown myself King, Monarch, Emporer, and Kaiser of the City of Atheo!"

The crowd was stunned. No one had seen this coming. Centuries unravelled, war seemingly on the horizon. And yet, the shock was so deep no one spoke. No one challenged.

"Continue to go about your daily lifes. We will be seeing periods of rapid expansion, as we move to go from living tall in our stone buildings, to living wide on this rock basin. The empire will no longer tell us how to build!"

With that, the Army dispersed, some going to work as security of the city, others home to their families. Some set to work showing the new city plans, featuring ample space for large war beasts and transportation, and a select few followed Mako and his company into the capital. At the top of the stairway, Mako looked out on the large city. Work had already begun, and the citizens where just going along with it for now.

"King Mako-" one started before being cut off.
"Just Mako or Mordue is fine. I'm an autocrat now someone who needs their ego rubbed."
"Mako how will we inform the empire? They are meeting today yes?"
"Correct, and when the envoy of one of the most important cities in the empire fails to show they'll know some things wrong."
The last banner in the city of the old order fell, and the Kraken of the new government replaced it.
"The nobles are smart. Once they realize neither me or thresh have shown, they'll realize what we've done. Assuming they dont let their pride get in the way of their sanity, they'll know there's simply nothing to be done about it.
As they spoke, a shadow fell over the first district of the city. A long tentacled beast with multiple glowing eyes and covered in new iron plating growled as it circled overhead far beneath the waves.
"Let them come. We'll show the Terrans who rules these seas, and they will forever remember the name of the man who brought all who live on land to their knees, Mako Mordue, supreme ruler of the city of Atheo.

[Tasuirin]

---

Ɲiçiŧe Ɲakēt-Xhāçiŧ
Ɲiçiŧe's Çīhasşaikīh,
Xhiɲeŧihcɛ̄hnŧiňɛ̄h,
The Endless Forests

---

The great Lizard-chief sat upon a tree stump within his Çīhasşaikīh, his chief-house. For many thousands of years, Lizardfolk rulers sat upon tree stumps, the stumps of the first trees cleared in the construction of the village, marking both the centre of a village and the very literal seat of power for the social structure of the Tribe. Since the earliest days of his people, the chiefs did everything, from listening to the concerns of their people, to designating new laws to abide by. It was a tradition carrying the authority of many before Nichithe, and a tradition that brought with it centuries of protocol, law and prestige.

The humans, however, possessed different ways of doing things. They fashioned chairs out of materials - yes, wood, but also stone, metals, sometimes even with velvet and leather protecting their pampered posteriors from the harsh realities of the materials they made their thrones from. The great Lords, Kings, Emperors even, passed these thrones down with them from father to son, a heritable throne for a heritable title.

Everything about these two systems screamed of the distinctions between both groups. The humans praised industry. They brought the materials to where the Lord lived, to a place that was already being built, the materials sometimes coming from all corners of the world. The Lizardfolk, however, saw it differently. Each tree cut down was a sacrifice for the good of the tribe, but it was one they did not take lightly. Each one was a symbol of the Lizardfolk species' quest for a better life, one of prosperity and plenty, but prosperity did not come freely. And so, each tree cut down was commemorated by the tribe - some made into altars for their gods, others as communal eating places, and yet others as the beginnings of wells for the tribe, but the first one in a village was always kept for the chief, to be the spiritual and civil heart of the tribe.

Whether or not this did anything in reality, appease any gods or simply act as a symbolic gesture for the tribe, Nichithe did not know. He had learnt from both groups - tradition from the Lizardfolk, cynicism from the humans, preservation from the Lizardfolk and industry from the humans. Coming from Nichithe's old tribe, the Ɲiçiŧxhāçiŧiňɛ̄h, or 'the Trading Tribe' from the cobbled-together Lizardfolk words 'thinker' and 'walker', one would think that Nichithe would be the optimal candidate to unite both worlds, bringing together humans and Lizardfolk in peace.

Not so.

The last time Nichithe saw his old tribe, the warchief had gathered together all of the children and sent them away, away from the tribe itself. For the humans, their minds of industry leading them, had come to the tribe one last time. Not for materials, not for money, not for knowledge. For the hides of every Lizardfolk man, woman and child within the tribe, with the carcasses to be left behind.

Nichithe smashed a closed fist into the table in front of him. He should have seen it coming. Humans had no respect for them, not when they took materials, not when they underpaid for them, and not even when they shared their knowledge. The humans had always come for a select few things - cheap goods, desecration of the Lizardfolk way of life and, eventually, the Lizardfolk themselves.

The hubbub around Nichithe stopped as the sound of his fist reached their ears. They turned to see what the chief had to say. These Lizardfolk were members of other tribes, some coming from hundreds or thousands of miles away just to be within the Tribe of the Forest-People, Xhiɲeŧihcɛ̄hnŧiňɛ̄h, Nichithe's tribe. In some, Nichithe could see courage. In others, fear. In yet others, simply hope. They were all correct. All had heard the tales of Nichithe Leaf-Walker, the chief who brought the Forest-People to prominence in record time, who mobilised the entire populace into an efficient workforce and military presence. Maybe some had been skeptical, but that skepticism would have washed away when they saw the thousands of soldiers who defended the village, and the great walls which were beginning to take shape around it. Nichithe rose, folding his arms behind his back, tail mere inches above the ground, a nonverbal signal of skepticism among the Lizardfolk.

"Some of you have heard my name," Nichithe said, speaking the ancient tongue of the Lizardfolk, "Some of you have only heard of the tribe. Yes. It is all true. Every bit of it."

A certain amount of murmuring went up among the crowd. The Şīçīŧīťɛ guard struck their spears to the ground in unison. The room became silent once more.

"Yes, I am a dictator. I dictate what must be done, and I expect it to be done. Yes, I am a hard taskmaster. I set tasks that have never been achieved before by our race. And yes, I hate humans. I wish for their filth to be far away from us, never to return," Nichithe looked at the expressions of each man, woman and child, looking for signs of weakness. All of them did have a certain endurance to them. They had all come far. Nichithe raised his head slightly, "But I am also the only hope that you, or any Lizardfolk, have to survive the human menace, and to bring you to greater glory. If you serve the tribe faithfully, you shall be rewarded with knowledge, possession and status far beyond what any of you could have attained previously. If you fail, your tribe, a new family, will support you. I will not penalise failure."

Nichithe lowered his head, "I will not, however, tolerate betrayal. Betrayal of any one of us is a betrayal of the tribe, betrayal of the tribe is a betrayal of our species," Nichithe's eyes narrowed, "Betrayal of the species is treason, and treason is punishable by death. I will not compromise our species' safety in any way. Stay within these rules, and all shall be well for you here. Those of you who wish to leave may do so." Nichithe smiled slightly once he had finished. A few looked around, but none left the Çīhasşaikīh. Nichithe nodded approvingly.

"In that case, welcome, all of you, to the Tribe of the People of the Forest."

Nichithe turned around, leaving the new members of the tribe to be greeted by members of Nichithe's cadre. Nichithe himself ascended a set of stairs, leading to a platform, and from there, he strode across to a tree, which he climbed up rapidly. He looked out towards where he knew a human settlement was located. The humans could not have known much of the building of forces which was being undertaken by Nichithe, nor much of Nichithe's own status as the Tribe's leader. Even if the humans cared, they didn't know enough of Lizardfolk customs. However, one day soon, they would know. On that day, the Lizardfolk would declare their intent:

Freedom, separation and death to all who crossed them.

[Elysian Kentarchy]

High Duke Valerius XXXIII Velira
Tomb of the Emperors

"I will do all I can to ensure your Empire survives as it is supposed to and if not my people will maintain its memory for eternity. That is our oath and we will never betray it." I mutter to my sovereign's tomb from my kneeling position, holding my sword in both my hands, a position I haven't moved from for over an hour, I had arrived and been escorted to the palace and all that however I immediately left for the crypt to pay my respects, there wasn't many other nobles there and bowing before my sovereign took precedence.

"Sire, I believe it is time to head to the Palace." One of my guards informs me from behind.

"Yes I suppose it is." I respond, finally getting up from my kneeling position. "Let us go." And I depart the crypt and the dozen men who had been kneeling with me follow behind. After we emerge into sunlight I blink while my eyes adjust. "Assume parade formation." I finally say and they form up behind me with six rows of two with enough of a gap to allow me to fallback inside them. These were all the people I had immediately brought with me to the capital, the rest of my baggage was slowing me down so I just took a dozen men with me and rode here with all haste. But it isn't like I picked only random guards to accompany me they were my best and they were well dressed in their armor and carried their weapons with pride, all an impressive work of dwarven craftsmanship when it comes to iron and gemstones. Most distinctive about them though would be the fur hoods they all have attached to the clothes under their armor and several are wearing fur gloves and boots, the rest wearing wolf leather in the place of fur, all a product of some of the best leather workers in the City of the Fang. Almost all of them carry swords with a black or blue gemstone in the pommel, the only one without a sword is guard carrying an axe but even then they still have gems in the handle and the wood of the shaft is very fine wood from the Black Forest.

As for my clothing in comparison it is simply with a silk tunic and pants along with a longsword strapped to my side and fur boots and leather gloves along with a wolf fur cloak. The clothing is dyed black though as our lands are still in mourning so black was the most common color I saw leaving. The silk had to be imported of course but the sword is fine dwarven steel that my father had commissioned for my 13th birthday, the hilt's leather is that of a great wolf that he personally hunted down and the gem in the pommel, a sapphire, was imported and worked on by dwarven craftsmen.

As I walk back to the palace I see a noble distributing goods and such to the commoners in the distance, making a big show out of it, and without breaking stride I think of where I know that sigil from. Ah right, House d'Autriche, well if his reputation is correct he is acting like a peacock in order to endear himself but I haven't met the man so I can't say. Granted I had also ordered my baggage train to distribute what it could in the poorer areas on the way to the palace, primarily meaning wooden bowls and utensils, clothing, and preserved meats while making it known where it comes from but I did request they try to at least not make a show of it. While arrogant ponces might be doing this to claim the throne or endear themselves to the public I mostly do it because these southerners don't have all the necessities like we try to ensure up north, food and drink and treasure is all well and good but if they do not have necessities such as clothing, things to eat the food from, or even food that can last them sometime, and more what good do they do besides keep people in the slums?

Well if I am completely honest endearing ourselves to the public is also part of it, it helps our exports and imports if we advertise a little and every little bit helps. It also helps the people of my land who moved to this city, most notably with leather stores and those bonds are as important as ever.

I gesture to my guards and we take an alternative route to get back to the palace, I do not want to deal with the crowd around that peacock trying to get back into there. I nod to the members of the Imperial Guard and they let us in and we return to where we are supposed to be inside the palace, well I return to the Great Hall and I dismiss my guards to elsewhere and take a seat in the corner to wait.

[Nova Corina]

The gruff old man sat in silence, watching the other various nobles stream into the chamber where the future of the empire of Terra would be decided. His military dress uniform, shining with polish, pressed against his skin, covered by the scars of war. Unlike most of the others in the room, he had no interest in the throne, or in politics. In fact, he didn't even want to be here. Alas, as the marshal of all of the forces of Terra, it was his duty to appear - besides, he was a member of the Imperial Court.

Headquartered in the Imperial City, Corryn did not need to make the long journey made by many of the other nobles. In fact, Corryn's home was just a short walk away from the Imperial Palace - the proximity indicated Corryn's high status to the former empress and the nation arrived. Corryn was one of the first to arrive.

He eyed the nobles who silently came into the room. He knew several - the Lord of Carnifex, the presumptive heir to the throne, among others. Many of Corryn's soldiers disliked the Lord, and Corryn knew it, but Corryn did not love or hate almost anyone outside of the army. He was wise enough not to get involved in politics, and keep his heroic image untarnished to all eyes.

Corryn was not a man for words, either. A vast majority of the nobles did not speak to him - they had more pressing matters to attend to. So he did what he was content with - watching. Throughout this grand drama, he would do little but watch.

[The Twelve Isles]

Siona Willun, The Black Raven

Siona sat as close to the fire as she could, leaning into it and warming her hands and drying her hair. Her cloak was hung up above the fire, and her bag that she carried was by her feet, and she tapped her toe against it. A sword leaned against her leg on the other side, its hilt glinting in the fire light. She thought as she warmed herself, thinking about the caravan she had passed on the road. They were going the opposite direction as she had been going, the wagons trundling along the muddy road, the horses heads low against the rain. Inside one of the wagons she could hear a woman yelling, and her husband sat out on the seat with a look of tired resignation on his face. He waved at her, and gave a sighing greeting of “contas a shohann an grethas,” meaning ‘how goes the wind’ in Terran.

Siona looked up at the greeting, and responded in kind. “Shohann an grethas saor, mac a dheadhfaidth me,” meaning ‘the wind goes free, as do I.’

It was the traditional greeting of the Rosha people, the ones who had raised Siona. She hadn't spoken the language of the caravans in a while, at least half a year. More often than not, when she passed Rosha on the road, they took her as a Terran, and spoke to her as such. She couldn’t blame them though, it wasn’t like she looked Rosha. Though she thought of herself that way culturally, ethnically she was Terran, and had always contrasted sharply with the children she grew up with. Her black hair and black eyes always made her easy to find whenever she got in trouble, sticking out amongst the sea of red hair and green eyes that was a Rosha camp. It made her think of Ms Maadran, the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, her mother. When Siona and her cronies would return from towns, laden with sweets and coins they had stolen and conned off of the local children, Ms Maadran would always appear from inside of her wagon and shout into the camp.

“Siona Willun!” she would say, “A shopkeeper came into camp today! I know what you did, and if you do not go back to that man and apologise just this instant, I will give you a whipping like you have never seen before!”

The whipping idea never scared Siona that much, Ms Maadran was never comfortable with giving her kids any more than a three fingered smack on the mouth, but it was the knowledge of how Ms Maadran would make her spend her time if she didn’t listen that really scared Siona. Once, Siona had back talked, and found herself setting up the Maadran family camp all by herself, before sweeping and cleaning all around the seats for the stage that her caravan would use to perform their plays. And so, Siona always found herself having to apologise to some shopkeeper, who would almost always tell Ms Maadran that she should do better in raising Siona, which would result in Ms Maadran yelling at Siona all the way back to camp.

Not that that would stop Siona though. She liked the adventures she and her friends got up too, and wouldn’t stop if she was paid to. And besides, the guards the caravan employed always laughed and joked with her. They thought she was hilarious, and Siona always like to impress the guards. With their swords and chainmail armor, they were all very exciting. Well, except for her father, the captain of the guard. But other than when he insisted on teaching her to use a sword, she rarely interacted with him, so she didn’t care much.

Siona smiled at the thought of the old caravan of her childhood, and leaned back against the chair she sat in. The inn she had come to was nice and cozy, but a little empty. A young girl, who looked like she was probably around fourteen but with the air of a person desperate to prove that they were more mature than their age approached Siona. “Would you like anything ma’am? Some food, or something to drink.”

Siona looked up and paused, thinking over what she would say. She wasn’t quite used to interacting with people much anymore, she spent so much time by herself on the road. Quickly, she gathered her wits about her, and spoke. “An ale please. And if you have any stew, it would be appreciated.” Her voice was soft and calm, but with a distinct confidence to it as well, and the slight lilt of a Rosha accent.

The girl nodded, and returned to her spot behind the bar. She whispered in an older womans ear, and the woman dipped into a back room while the girl poured a tall mug of ale from a cask, and brought it back to Siona. She placed it on the little table by Siona’s chair, and hovered a little. Siona picked up the mug and took a long swig, but when the girl didn’t leave she turned back to her and spoke. “Is there something wrong?” she said, and the girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“No, ma’am, nothing is wrong. It’s just that, I was wondering, are you a mage?”

“Yes,” said Siona. The girl studied her, looking her up and down as if she was waiting for more, but Siona wasn’t really sure what else there was to say.

The girl sat in the chair next to Siona, a look of wonder in her eyes, and leaned on the chairs arm to ask more questions. “Do you go to one of the Colleges?” she said. “I’ve always heard about the colleges. They sound so much more beautiful and exciting than anything here. All we have in this town is fishers and farmers, and occasionally a miner might come down from the mountains and stay at the inn. But I would love to learn magic.”

“I’m not from a college,” said Siona. “I learned from a man in the north.”

“Oh,” said the girl. Some of the shine was lost in her eyes, and she studied the fire, before perking up again. “Then, if you aren’t college, are you a wanderer?”

“Yes.” said Siona.

“You must have been all over then,” she said. She looked at Siona like Siona had hung the moon, and Siona couldn’t help but admit to herself that it was a little sweet.

“That I have,” said Siona. “From the north, to the south, and all places in between. Even before I started to learn, I grew up with Rosha. So I’ve been travelling my whole life really.”

A look of realization dawned on the girl, and she seemed to hesitate before asking her next question. “Wait, are you Siona Willun?” she said.

“Yes,” said Siona. “Thats me.”

“I’ve heard of you, some call you The Black Raven.”

“I usually just go by Siona,” said Siona.

The older woman appeared over Siona’s shoulder, and placed a bowl and a spoon next to her mug. “Really,” she said, her voice a little sarcastic, “your the one some folks call the Black Raven?”

“Yes,” said Siona again. Her voice remained calm, though it was clear she was being mocked.

“Your trying to tell me that you’re the one who walks dreams? The one who sealed the Damned Lord, and communes with spirits from beyond the pale?”

“The only unique thing I have ever done was sealing the Damned Lord,” said Siona. “Those other feats you speak of are all magics that anyone could learn, if they put their minds to it.”

The woman scoffed, and the girl looked at the woman with mild disdain for butting in.

“What is it that makes it so hard for you to believe that I am Siona Willun, the Black Raven?” said Siona. There was no malice in her words, only curiosity, and a slight tinge of annoyance at having this woman barge her way in and insult her.

“Your very young is all,” said the woman.

Siona sipped her ale, and turned back to the fire. “Im very good,” she said, and with that, the conversation was over. The older woman sniffed, but said no more, and returned to the bar. Siona put her ale down and picked up the stew, blowing on a spoonful before putting it into her mouth. It was not the best she had ever had, but it was hot and it was hearty, which was really all one could ask for.

“Did you mean that, that anyone could learn those magics if they work hard at it?” said the girl.

Siona nodded, and ate another bit of stew. She chewed and swallowed, before leaning back in her chair again and saying, “All it takes is practice. Just like with anything.”

“Could you teach me?” said the girl.

“No,” said Siona. “At least, not for a while. I still have too much to learn for myself.”

The girl looked disappointed, sad even. Siona felt a little bad for speaking so quickly, and worried she had hurt the girls feelings. She didn’t consider herself a hero, though it was clear that this girl did, and she did not want to be the one who quickly taught her that a hero was just as fallible as the rest of humanity.

“I can give you books though,” said Siona.

“What good will those do?” said the girl.

“They can help you learn magic, help you learn how to control mana, and cast simple spells, and summon simple creatures.”

The girl looked skeptical, but there was hope in her eyes again. Siona dug into her bag, and pulled out two. One was a simple spell book, and the other was a textbook on the fundamentals of magic. She handed them to the girl, who looked them over with curiosity. “Those aren’t the greatest grimoires in the history of the Empire, but they will tell you what you need to know to get started as a mage,” said Siona, before taking another bite of her stew.

“These will really teach me?” said the girl.

“They will help you learn,” said Siona, “but you will have to teach yourself.”

The conversation paused again, the girl studying the books and flipping through the pages, Siona watching the fire and warming her feet. Eventually, the girl looked back and said, “Im Rithi, by the way.”

“It’s good to meet you Rithi,” siad Siona. She smiled then, for the first time that night. It was a bright smile, pleasant and friendly. She sipped her ale, and Rithi was called back by the older woman to help out around the inn. Siona stayed by the fire for some time, watching the flames and reading a book as she ate. Eventually the woman came back and took the bowl, spoon and mug, and Siona thanked her honestly and truthfully for the food. The woman gave her an odd look, like she didn’t quite know what to make of someone thanking her after she had insulted her, which Siona felt was reasonable.

She slept well that night. Though the food was only ok, the ale had been strong and the beds were comfortable. She placed her belongings in the little armoire in the room, kicking her boots off at the foot of the bed. She meditated before she slept, contemplating her path and her dreams, trying to work them out. She had learned to Dream Walk years ago, while training with Joseh and living with her mothers family. Sometimes by meditating, she could work out the complex meanings behind dreams, and sometimes it gave her a leg up. But only sometimes. More often than not, the meaning of her own dreams only became clear weeks, months and once even a year later. She sighed, coming up with nothing from her meditation, and fell into her bed, pressing herself as deeply as she could into the pillow.

***

The next morning, when Siona awoke, she headed into the city. They were not far, and in fact Siona could even see the cities buildings rising up in the distance. She gathered her things, throwing her cloak over her shoulders and hanging her sword from her belt, before heading out that morning. She paid for a hot potato, and found Rithi reading the books Siona had given her on one of the chairs by the fire. She looked up as Siona made to leave, and spoke again. "Are you going to the choosing of our new Emperor?" she said.

Siona paused, halfway out of the door, and turned back to Rithi. "I am," she said, in that simple and concise way she talked.

"Can I come with you?" said Rithi, "I've been in this little town forever, its been so long since I went to the city."

"Only if your mother allow's it," said Siona, gesturing at the older woman behind the bar.

"Misasha isn't my mother," said Rithi. "And besides, Im old enough to make my own decisions."

Siona ignored Rithi's exclamation of age, making eye contact with the older woman, Misasha. Misasha gave a nod and a grunt, before saying, "Don't look at me, I don't care what the little brat does. Besides, if she doesn't come back, I don't have to pay her anymore."

Siona looked back at Rithi, but said nothing more. Rithi looked between the two other women uncomfortably, like she wasn't sure exactly what the verdict was, until Siona pushed the door open and said, "are you coming, or are you staying?" With that, her eyes lit up like lamps and she smacked her book shut. It was the book on magical techniques, the oldest one Siona had, and it poofed dust when it was closed. Rithi hopped up from her chair and jogged after Siona, her dress swaying behind her. The two stepped out onto the porch of the inn, and waited as a large farmers wagon passed before stepping out onto the road. They turned right, and began walking, feeling the fresh morning sun on their skin. When they passed through the wheat fields that surrounded the town, Siona spoke again.

"If Misasha isn't your mother, then where are your parents?"

"They died when I was young," said Rithi. "Misasha is my uncles second wife. But he died as well, so its just me and her. She doesn't like me, but at least she pay's me for my work."

"Lach benachdel leaga," said Siona.

"Whats that," responded Rithi, looking at Siona with curiosity.

"Its Rosha," said Siona. "It means 'its the small blessings,' in Terran."

"I like that," said Rithi.

Siona looked down at her young travel partner, and grinned. It was nice to hear that, though she couldn't place why.

The two continued on in silence for a while, Siona's boots kicking up dirt and Rithi's bare feet becoming ever dustier the farther they walked. She was small, Rithi was. Skinny and short, with hair so blonde it was practically white. Not the prettiest in the most classical sense, but with a personality that more than made up for it. Siona liked her. She was charming, and saw the world through a lens of kindness and curiosity. There weren't enough people left like that, Siona felt.

Every once in a while they would chat, talking about the fate of the empire and the things that were happening. Rithi seemed to feel tired of the Empire, but afraid all the same. Siona couldnt help but agree. At this point, the Empire was bloated and corrupt, and would only become more so with a man like Lord Carnifex in power. As far as Siona was concerned, it might be the right time for change. Should other peoples and races want their homelands to be free, she felt like it was more than fair, and fully supported them. Should rebellion's begin, Siona knew which side she supported, and who she would fight for.

As Siona and Rithi entered the Imperial City, Rithi seemed to lose herself in the crowds. Siona had been there twice, but for Rithi, it was like her first time all over again. The last time she had been into the city it was with her father, when she was five. All her memories were old ones. "Do you think any of these people know you?" she said at last, as the pair made their way through the market and closer to the city square.

"No," said Siona. "I don't like cities, and so I don't tend to go to cities if I can help it."

"Oh," said Rithi. "Then why are you here now?"

"To see who they pick as next Emperor."

Rithi made a face like she was thinking it over, but said nothing more. They pushed their way through the crowd, and once a man on a horse yelled at Rithi for getting in his way. He wore fine clothes, and yelled about all the country peasant's and bumpkins clogging up the city for the announcement. Rithi seemed surprised, but before she could say anything else Siona lead her away and gave the man on horseback a glare. He turned his nose up at the two, but continued on after glancing down to Siona's hand, resting comfortably on her sword. She watched as the man rode on, making sure he didn't come back and try to make his point known to the two "filthy peasant girls," but he didn't make any attempts. Siona turned, and caught up with Rithi, who had made it a little further ahead. They came to the main city square, watching as it filled with people, waiting for someone to come from inside the palace and tell them who would be the new Emperor. Rithi bought a large turkey leg and munched on it happily, her appetite much larger than her size. Siona for her part found a place to watch from, and waited. She crossed her arms, studying the people around her. They mostly seemed to be of the middle class, not quite the poor but certainly not the rich either. Here and there she spotted aristocrats and lords, sitting atop carriages, veranda's and on seats the had brought for themselves. They seemed pudgy to Siona, and soft.

[Union Princes]

Stonehollow, estate of House Grimm

Morr Grimm

Victory or Death...thought Crispin, a peasant boy no older than 16, House words of Grimm... He, among many others, were peasants volunteering for justice against bandits under the leadership of Morr Grimm, a humorless man with a humorless sword. They were promised bounty and share of the spoils for their efforts in subduing bandits but this was a particularly large bandit camp.

The boy lie breathing on his back as he was still in shock of his first kill. Crispin had slain a bandit that was twice his age with a dagger though his throat. Poor boy was about to faint from the blood on his cheek and hands when a familiar voice called him to action.

"Is everyone still a live?!" the rough, nonsensical voice of Morr Grimm demanded as he took off his helmet. He wore the armor of Deathwatch Order. Black and dark gray in color. The blood stains made his armor look even darker.

"Out of the 36 men in our party, I count 4 bodies dead and 12 wounded." answered Sir Igor von Neuheuser with a bloodcurdling smile on his equally hideous face. He was one of the four Deathwatch knights that also volunteered to join Grimm out of desire to experience combat another time. "Get up boy, we have won this road."

Crispin was helped to his feet and for the first time surveyed the battlefield. This was a large bandit camp and Grimm's party was nearly outnumbered 3-1 but thanks to Grimm's leadership and the skill of the four Deathwatch knights, the party have captured 30 prisoners and an abundance of food, weapons, and stolen money. They simply caught the bandits with their pants down as they were scattered around their camp lingering about while Grimm made sure that the peasant force stayed in formation.

"Only take what speaks to you!" Morr ordered to the peasants and Deathwatch knights, "Share the food and money among yourselves. I expect no arguing unless you want my Judgment!"

Crispin gulped hard at the mention of Judgment, House Grimm's ancestral sword. With a skull pommel and a handle forged to assemble a bone, Judgment was a two-handed sword that seem to suck the very soul of a person being beheaded. Indeed, Judgment was called "the Sword that Sliced 1000 necks." by the Stanners, a family of human majordomos who served House Grimm ever since they built their wine estate.

"As for the prisoners," Grimm's face turned to the surrounded bandits with his eyes dark as the night and his fangs showing no hesitation. "Execute half of them and us vampire knights split the remainder.

While the peasants and vampires bartered and plundered the stolen goods, the remaining bandits were scared, very scared, and they couldn't tell if Grimm was secretly enjoying their fear or despising their cowardice with the death stare he was giving.

"Close your eyes." Grimm advise to the bandits, "You don't want to see my sword above your heads."

By the time the party was done sorting out their plunder and putting it on wagons and horses, Morr beheaded 15 of the bandits. their heads will be stacked on top of each other to form a tower next to the road. It was to serve as the marker for the raid that happened here as well as a reminder to travelers and bandits alike that the roads are well protected.

'I assume you took everything." Grimm said as he looked to his party as they gave their wounded comrades some medical treatment and splitting the prisoners between the Deathwatch Knights.

"Well, not everything." smirked Sir Igor, cheerfully handing Grimm a heavy purse full of coin. "Most of the humans figured that you should get the share of the gold. Their village is now safe knowing that one more bandit hideout was destroyed."

The moon was shining bright by the time Morr Grimm was riding home on his stead. The Deathwatch Knights thanked him for his kindness while the peasants praised him for his sense of duty as the party split up to go back home. Grimm decided to spend the night at the family vineyard.

Majordomo Conin Stanner was standing dutifully near the stables when Morr got off his horse.

"Sir," Conin address respectfully, "If you haven't heard the news yet, but a ceremony has been announced at the capital for the crowning for the new house onto the throne. Lord Carnifex is rumored to be ecstatic for he seem to believe that he will be chosen.

"So it seems," Morr replied gruffly as he proceeded to to his house with Conin following behind. "As usual, Stanner, if there are any sightings of bandit movement in my lands, alert me immediately."

"As for the prisoners..." the vampire knight gestured at the three bandits that were bound and very much still afraid. "Keep them fed and don't let them escape. I do intend on bring them back to Gallowkeep."

"Will do, sir." Conin bowed before leaving Morr Grimm in peace.

"Maybe then my wine will reach the capital of his coronation." the vampire grumbled as he prepared for sleep.

[The World Capitalist Confederation]

General Liecsturn of Draconia-Sterpol and Blood Knight Edvark Redhorn
Fort Irongate
In Garrison
Southwestern Terra

"Watchmen, is there anything to report to me?" Liecsturn prodded sharply.

"No, sir. Nothing as of now." The watchmen replied, swiftly and confidently.

Liecsturn nodded and said:
"Excellent. Well I best be back to my quarters. It seems to be getting warm." As soon as that was said, he walked back to his quarters, as he hated the heat like all Draconians.

As Liecsturn approached the wooden cabin, he saluted at Edvark, who was guarding the place and felt the same heat on his skin as Liecsturn did.

"Sir, it's rather warm today, don't you think?" Edvark asked of the General as he marched towards him.

'Very warm indeed. Don't know why they sent me of all creatures here." Liecsturn replied, smiling.

Edvark smiled back, knowing to be respectful.

"Ahh, sir, one last thing before you go in..." Edvark interjected in the middle of Liecsturn's marching.

"What is it?" Liecsturn turned and paid full attention.

"A letter from...'Lord Jonathan Carnifex.'. You know, him, sir." Edvark replied, staring at the sender's name.

"Oh, Carnifex. Carnifex...*He clicked his tongue* Well, thank you, Edvark." Liecsturn said back.

Liecsturn walked into the nicely decorated rustic wooden house, relaxing back, as he slowly peeled the letter open with his hands.

He then read the letter, murmuring as he read it, and then nodding.

"I damn hate that Carnifex. He thinks he's a damn star and he's the...what's that called again? Either way, I presume that Erpoux wouldn't want me to piss off 'Lord Majesty High Emperor of All Nations and All Worlds Jonathan Hugh XIV of the IXth Dynasty of East Signenfeld.'. There's no point in my expressing in my hate towards him. It would only make him target me, and to the rest, well, I'd be preaching to the choir or leading the blind to a mime."

He then walked out of the cabin, mildly annoyed, and then told Edvark "Let's go. We haven't a minute to waste. Lord Carnifex wants us there and we'll be there. Bring my entire army. I want to make a show and dance of myself so that I can put him in his place."

Edvark obeyed his order and then said: "Yes, sir. Let me help you to your carriage-"

"That isn't needed, but I'm touched. Thank you." Liecsturn interrupted.

And soon, they were making their way to Gaia...

[Sraelyn]

Sir Aleksander Greifen
Terra-Primira

The wind ruffled Aleksander's black hair, he had one hand on the reins of his mount while the other was shielding his eyes from the strong southern sun. It was a pleasent day to be riding, the weather was warm and the sun shined brightly. It was truly a gorgeous day, contrasting quite hardly with the cause of the gathering. A new Emperor was to be chosen after the untimely demise of House Regine, Lord Carnifax surely was going to press his claim, yet he would need the support of the rest of the lords summoned that day.

"We are to descend on the western courtyard my lord." Said Count Ulrin, loud enough to be heard over the distance that separated them.

"Very well uncle, lead the way." Answered Aleksander as they soared through the skies atop their Gryphons, more that a hundred feet above the Imperial City. "Knights! Form behind me and prepare for landing!"

While crossing over Terra-Primira, he couldn't avoid thinking of how different it all was, the young knight had never been so far from home. The sprawling city below was truly enormous, seemingly stretching on forever under him, it's magnificent large buildings and monuments dotting the surface unlike anything he had ever seen.

As they descended into the bustling city, he could now see a clearer picture of what surrounded the palace. Crowds of people were gathering around the caravans of nobles, some of whom threw gifts into the gawking populace, making quite a show about it.
Aleksander smiled, as the Pommerskian envoys needed not such thing to cause a spectacle themselves. Dozens dozens among the crowd turning to see, probably for their first time, the Gryphon Knights riding their majestic mounts, half a dozen knights with their respective squires, perfectly drilled and wearing their simple yet pristine armour, the banners of House Greifen dancing to the wind.

Once landed on the courtyard, Aleksander's younger cousin and squire came forth to help him dismount, as did all the other knight's respective squires. A member of the Imperial court approached them and guided them towards the palace, the knights forming behind their lord as the squires took care of the mounts. Once nearing the Great Hall he promptly dismissed most of his retinue, with exception of his uncle before taking a large breath and entering.

Aleksander could not avoid looking with disregard and distance to most lords present. How could he not, as they were strangers most of them, belonging to distant reaches of the Empire and sharing little with him. However, in a corner of the room he found a welcoming sight, from a sea of people foreign to him, a familiar face beckoned at him.

"Lord Valerius! A pleasure meeting you as always." Greeted Aleksander with a warm smile. " I believe he haven't seen each other for many years, since I was a squire and last visited the Icy Keep. How is your family?"

[Elysian Kentarchy]

Sir Aleksander Greifen
Terra-Primira

(Image)

The wind ruffled Aleksander's black hair, he had one hand on the reins of his mount and the other was shielding his eyes from the strong southern sun.

"We are to descend on the western courtyard my lord." Said Count Ulrin, loud enough to be heard over the the distance that separated them.

"Very well uncle, lead the way." Said Aleksander as they soared through the skies, atop their Gryphons more that a hundred feet above the Imperial City. "Knights! Form behind me and prepare for landing!"

Oh how different it all was, the young knight had never been so far from home. The city below was truly enormous and quite majestic to be honest, seemingy stretching forever. The weather was warm and the sun shined brightly, truly a gorgeous day, which contrasted quite hardly with the cause of such gathering. A new Emperor was to be chosen after the untimely demise of House Regine, Lord Carnifax surely was going to press his claim, yet he would need the support of the rest of the lords summoned today.

As they descended into the bustling city, he could see a clearer picture of what surrounded the palace. Crowds of people were gathering around the caravans of nobles, some of whom threw gifts into the gawking populace, most making quite a show about it.
However the Pommerskian envoys needed not such thing to cause a spectacle themselves, as dozens among the crowd turned to see, probably for their first time, the Gryphon Knights riding their majestic mounts. Half a dozen knights, with their respective squires, perfectly drilled and wearing their simple yet pristine armour, the banners of House Greifen dancing to the wind.

Once landed on the courtyard, Aleksander's younger cousin and squire came forth to help him dismount, as did all the other knight's respective squires. A member of the Imperial court approached them and guided them towards the palace, the knights forming behind their lord as the squires took care of the mounts. Once nearing the Great Hall he promptly dismissed most of his retinue, with exception of his uncle before taking a large breath and entering.

Aleksander could not avoid looking with disregard and distance to most lords present. How could he not, as they were strangers most of them, belonging to distant reaches of the Empire and shared little with him. However, in a corner  of the room he found a welcoming sight. Alas from a sea of people foreign to him, a familiar face beckoned at him.

"Lord Valerius! A pleasure meeting you as always." Greated Aleksander with a warm smile. " I believe he haven't seen eachother since I was a squire and visited the Icy Keep many years ago."

Honestly this is getting a bit tiresome, I have been sitting in the corner interacting with the nobility as expected for my position of High Duke. Exchanging greetings with the random nobles that are here and decide to approach me, and not a just few are probing me for my opinions on the succession but I have just been repeating the line I made since that unfortunate day 'I will support the one who is best to uphold House Regina's legacy and no one else', I try my best to play the role of the icy duke that these foreigners expect but it is a tiresome act. So many ponces here with so few worthy of conversation... I think to myself but before I could deride the rest of the nobility more a familiar pair of faces approach me and the younger one speaks out in a warm voice.

"Lord Valerius! A pleasure meeting you as always. I believe he haven't seen eachother since I was a squire and visited the Icy Keep many years ago."

I smile immediately for today has definitely gotten better, get up, and grasp Aleksander's hand in a firm handshake, discarding the act of being an icy duke. "Indeed Sir Aleksander indeed. A pleasure to see you as well Count Reinerst." I nod my head to older man and he returns the greeting. I lower my voice a little so only they would hear, "I can't tell you how glad I am to see men from our individual lands here." And then I speak up. "As for when we last saw each other..." I bring my hand up to my chin as I try to remember. "Ah yes, the last time we saw each other was my coronation as High Duke seven years ago and the celebrations for that back when you were just starting out as a squire. You two arrived to the Icy Keep for my father's funeral and stayed for my coronation and the celebrations afterwards." I shake my head a little with a smile, "My younger sister Maria was just cooing over that griffon of yours, Voorska if I recall the name right, when you showed him to her. The girl has been enraptured with the concept of flying since then. I can imagine how happy she would be if you and yours eventually visit my home." I shake my head once again to dismiss the nostalgia, and to avoid mentioning Maria's spear training, always the tomboy. "Consider that an invitation if you are ever in the neighborhood. But regardless I am happy to see friendly faces here even under such... sad circumstances."

[The V O I D]

Lord Jonathan XIV Carnifex
The Great Hall
The Grand Palace of the Regine Estate
Terra-Primira/Imperial City/Thronecity of the Terran Empire

---

As Jonathan was getting comfortable in his seat near the head of the Great Hall's feasting table, he noticed one of the Throne-Guardians - Kauashe, wasn't it? - standing near the back-entrance into the Great Hall; reserved for the Imperial Family to enter the room, along with servants or guards and others who lived in the Palace.

Kauashe stepped forward, standing before all the Lords, Heads, and assorted nobility, at the forefront of the Great Hall's small stage.

“Now presenting His Grace, the luminous, spectacular, radiant Master of the Most Sacred and Grand Order of the awe-inspiring and eternal Gaian Throne, Aldrich of Clan Kronal, as he is ordained by Her timeless, wise, and infinite Late Majesty - Artemis the Second of the tragically departed House Regine. May a new era rise from the ashes of her—and our Empire's—phoenix nature!”

With that conclusion, Kauashe stepped aside as Aldrich - an old, feeble man. He looked so small, and his eyes looked as aged as the rest of him. Yet Aldrich seemed to stand as tall as he could, despite his smallness; his back was firm, straight, and he didn't have the shivers that his old age might imply. Jonathan waited for the Master to speak.

“Lords, Ladies, and other assorted members of the Imperial Court,” Aldrich's voice rang out, carrying in the room easily enough. His voice was almost like a grandfather's - which, Jonathan supposed, fit him pretty well. Aldrich waited another moment, before continuing, “Today is the first session of the Imperial Court of which I am personally apart of. And it is the first session since Her Late Majesty departed her vessel, and ascended into the Heavens. I know we are all mourning her loss, as is right and proper. But today is also a day of renewal: for, on this day, I shall speak with each of you among the nobility. I shall judge for myself which of you shall ascend from nobility into the seat of the Gaian Throne. And let it be known that my decision will be based upon who among you I determine is not just worthy of the Throne, but ready, able, and willing to continue the prosperity and safety of our Empire - unified eternally and absolutely.”

Aldrich paused, for a moment. Then, he released a soft breath as he said, “but first, we shall have a small feast, and we shall deliberate only minimally. First and foremost, though, I must know who among you are here to merely witness the selection of the next Imperial Dynasty, and who among you are here in hopes that you will be selected for that Imperial Dynasty.”

And, with that said, servants began to come out and serve meals to all of those of the Imperial Court present. Jonathan was obviously wanting to sit upon the Throne - the nod he received from Aldrich told him that the Master understood that much.

“I would like to take this moment, before we begin eating, to propose a toast,” Jonathan declared, raising his wine-cup. He offered a solemn smile that managed to be genial all the same, even as he said, “And my toast is to Her Late Majesty, in hopes that her rest is peaceful and she is among loved ones in the Heavens. It is to each and every one of you who have come here to mourn Her Late Majesty's loss, and also to celebrate a new age for our Empire. And it is to our Empire, may it stand as eternally as it has before this day!”

Jonathan finished his toast, clicking wine-cups with any nearby nobles before sipping his wine. Now, it was time for the feast and trials to begin. He had a feeling Master Aldrich wasn't going to remain idle during this feast; so it would do to consider any questions the Master may ask.

[The World Capitalist Confederation]

Liecsturn, meanwhile, after arriving and getting ready with tens of thousands of soldiers waiting patiently outside the city (He had insisted on bringing them with him as he was required to be on hand at all times), and after getting into the feast, he contemplated something..something which may change the future of Terra. It should be worth noting that most of the time, especially on unimportant decisions, he prefers to kill first and ask questions later, but this was no time for that. He had options on the table...some honourable, others not so much. Everything from an assassination plot on Jonathan to cooperation to the restoration of the Draconian Empire.

Perhaps, as a wise general once said "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.", and so, taking this into consideration, he began to think about an assassination plot on Jonathan, or perhaps one to cripple him, in order to prevent him from rising to the throne. But, apart from the fact he knew he needed to neutralise Jonathan, he had nothing decided yet within his mind, what he was going to pursue. Loyalty, perhaps? That wasn't his regular style, so it might throw people on the backfoot, but it might also arouse suspicion. He thought that perhaps, he could use his large army to build almost a "Draconian Fortress" and hold in the North whilst his friends and connections from other houses begin to destabilise Jonathan's rule. Although he, again, wasn't normally one for tricks and games. He was one of brute force. Knowing this, he knew what to do:

It was simple yet elegant. Firstly, he would gather allies under a banner against Jonathan, as very few viable candidates existed, and then he would lead a large coalition army, beat Jonathan and his supporters in a war, and then promptly seize rule of the continent under Draconian rule, with the capital city being, of course, Draconia City. Whilst it was actually very complicated, he knew the danger of overplanning.

Knowing this, he then went up to several at the party, chatting to them about this and that, mostly about his disdain for Jonathan and all that, something which was public already. He soon rallied many to his cause (in theory anyway), chatting along and drinking wine. Then, of course, there was another one. Perhaps a man who could be key to his success. But of course, who was this man? He thought to himself, hours upon hours, even whilst speaking to others, who this key could be, who could be the man to give his army strength, give it will? To break apart the blasted empire which had kept Draconians weak and divided.

[Zapatha]

The Imperial Palace

Randyll looked out upon the throne city from his ornate carriage, as the driver navigated the city's many streets and intersections. Nowhere else in the Empire could even compare to the city of the Regine emperors, not even great Oldsburg in Eroria or that underwater city people always chattered about. He hadn't been to the capital in several months, but the extinction of House Regine seemed to have hit the city harder than expected. What was once a lively city with traders and people bustling about from all over the Terran Empire now looked more like a shadow of its former self, almost as if with the extinction of the Regines the city was fading as well.....

Lost in thought, Randyll's carriage arrived in front of where nobles from across the Empire were gathering to decide on how to deal with the succession crisis. Anyone not living under a rock new that Lord Carnifex was the most likely to succeed to the throne and that sent a shiver down Randyll's spine as he exited the carriage. In typical southern fashion, he wore high light brown leather boots, a green-white doublet with the black Lion of House Lancelet adorned on it, and black leather gloves. As he motioned for the carriage to leave, he also let his household guards go to a local tavern while he convened with the rest of the noblemen and women.

As he entered the room, he noticed the many leading figures of the Empire, including the Marshal of the Army whom Randyll admired dearly ever since he was a young boy. He also noticed two also young lords around his age, them being Lord Aerion and Duke Velarius. He didn’t know much about Lord Aerion save that he was an accomplished swordsman. Also, he looked like a woman. Duke Valarius however he knew much about, as House Velira is one of the Empire’s oldest noble families and the Dwarves who reside there trade with the Dwarves of Grenadiere regularly. The Icy Keep was also famous throughout the Empire, as well as their lord’s icy personalities.

As he was about to approach Aerion however, the throne guardian called to attention everyone in attendance in the Great Hall and Master Aldrich of the Gaian Throne. He listened attentively to the old man, and knew that at least half of the nobles here wanted the throne for themselves, succeeding the Regine Dynasty.

Fucking idiots. he whispered, as he considered who among the people here would dare try and succeed a dynasty as great as the Regines. As Lord Carnifex called for a toast, Randyll grimaced as he considered the thought of that man sitting on the throne of the Terran Empire. He nonetheless raised his cup in respect to the late empress, and took a sip. Randyll then turned to approach Duke Valarius who seemed to be talking to another nobleman….with a smile on his face.

“So, the rulers of the Icy Keep can smile.” he said in a friendly manner. He turned to Lord Carnifex’s direction and said “I can’t believe that some asshole like him will probably be our next emperor.

[The World Capitalist Confederation]

Liecsturn took a sip of wine and marched onto the conversation. "That's understating it. He acts more like a corrupt representative of some town than an actual candidate to be Emperor. I reckon I could do a better job." he joked, "And all my experience is fighting wars for hundreds of years. People love him yet don't see his corrupt side. His personality is like non-waterproof plaster in a stone castle. If one could expose him for the corrupt man he really is, well...". He took another sip of wine, smirking as he listened closely to what he was going to say next. Maybe they wouldn't appreciate someone walking in and talking in their conversation...or perhaps, they could be recruited.

[Zapatha]

Liecsturn took a sip of wine and marched onto the conversation. "That's understating it. He acts more like a corrupt representative of some town than an actual candidate to be Emperor. I reckon I could do a better job." he joked, "And all my experience is fighting wars for hundreds of years. People love him yet don't see his corrupt side. His personality is like non-waterproof plaster in a stone castle. If one could expose him for the corrupt man he really is, well...". He took another sip of wine, smirking as he listened closely to what he was going to say next. Maybe they wouldn't appreciate someone walking in and talking in their conversation...or perhaps, they could be recruited.

Randyll turned to the new participant in the conversation, obviously a dragonborn but he didn't recognize any sigil he wore or his voice, however he did know that some dragonborn lord had up and parked their entire army of levies outside of the city walls, and deduced that it was probably this man. Randyll was usually a very open man and not racist in any way, however he had always distrusted the dragonborn as he didn't believe that anyone who was kin to dragons should be trusted. When he jokingly mentioned how he could do a better job, Randyll wagered he most likely could...though if you're only slightly better than a slaving douchebag then that's not exactly putting you into the graces if the gods either.

"I'd have to agree with you there friend, though I'm not sure the Empire is in desperate need of someone whose occupation is fighting wars. If we're to overcome the tragedy of House Regine going extinct we need a leader and dynasty who will use peace and diplomacy as their greatest weapons, not war." Randyll then also sipped some wine from his cup. "And if my guess is correct, the army sitting outside the Throne-City's walls is yours my lord?

[Ruskland-Preuben]

Lord Arthurius IV Conradiner
The Pale Spire

"For breaking the laws of the land, I, Arthurius Conradiner the Fourth, do hereby sentence you to death by torture."

Multiple groups of bandits were exploding in terms of activity on the borderlands today, yesterday, and the week before that. And of course, some of the younger ones seeking some sort of glory, spilled over to the Conradiner domain today, much to the chagrin and despair of their older and wiser counterparts. Towns were raided as usual, blood spilled, seed spilled from all the rapes that occurred, and the children born from those unwilling women who had never gotten a taste of what it was like before he had inherited, a dark time in the Conradiner lands, where bandits and criminals in general were able to run amok like flies on rotting flesh.

Ah, yes, speaking of flesh, the soon to be grotesque blob of skins and bleeding flesh was currently squealing akin to that of a pig, nothing ordinary, in fact, it seems to be better to plead for a lost cause than to stay silent, those ones who wouldn't give him satisfaction when he struck fear into them would be forced to live after a session made in a way that wouldn't kill them, just inflict sweet, debilitating pain. He would end when they screamed, and they were healed so he could make them scream once more, a sweet cacophony to the ears of Arthurius Conradiner. As for the one he was pulling by the neck via chain, he was going to be the latest choir boy for his little band of singers.

Perhaps you might say that he is an inhumane man? Well, the results might be strange, as no criminal dares to make his presence known in his lands, and even then, these hidden are found, and promptly killed and hanged to be seen by all as an example for those dabbling in conspiracy. So they leave, but when he leaves, they come like mice when the cat is out. Unfortunately for them, he had more cats like him.

The man had just arrived the cell with his new chopping board, and his whip was calling out to taste some blood. And he did so, grabbing his whip, he began to exact wounds upon the fresh meat. Flakes of skin mixed with blood splattered all over the damp cell floor, and when he was done, he simply rubbed salt roughly on the thing's fresh wounds, earning him a lyric for this new song. After that, flipped over. And it started again, this time on the more soft frontal skin. Splattered blood and flakes of skin would fly once more unto the moist floor.

"A rapist hmm?" he questioned on his subject, whipping him once more for good measure, "Now isn't that just great yes?". He then had a dark smile as he brought out a table, leather straps were on it, designed to restrain whoever would be thrashing upon that dark piece of furniture. "I want an opinion my little choirboy," he began as he placed the fat man upon the table and restraining him, at this point, he was about to faint, "Should I rip the penile skin off your useless little sword, or should I pour something hot over it? Like liquid metal or something.". To this the criminal could only scream into his gags as his eyes shot open wide, and he desperately tried to escape.

But it was of no use.

Arthurius then smiled some more, like a butcher who really liked his job. "You know what little one? I won't be doing either in their entirety." and the man sighed in relief, but before he could realize that this was fucking Arthurius Conradiner, he struck again, "INSTEAD, WE'LL BE DOING BOTH! A FUN ACTIVITY, YES YES!". And he jumped right into the violently shaking man, with his knives and skinning tools at the ready, these were heated up to massive proportions, just enough for the heat to be painful, not too much as to make the metal waver when pressed against things.

And then I went to town with the man, preparing my knife, I skillfully cleared all of his skin on the needle. The heat was cauterizing his wounds. Then I got something he had ordered from the forge, a bit of liquid iron. I then poured it over his already broken bits. This earned me a dead body. A job well done, he would say.

And he, was I.

---

This was a day before he had left for the capital with his retinue, he was near the front, just surrounded by his trusted guards. Upon his banner was no flag with his house's symbol on it, but the very symbol itself in reality. The head of his latest victim, impaled upon a pike, and his mouth opened as to resemble a scream of agony, and pure terror. Unto the ears of this skewered head was sewn- well, not sewn but more akin to putting the wingbones into his ear and sewing it with strong fiber, the two wings of a great bat. Now it resembled his house's symbol, something that just pleased him in some sort of twisted way.

He, his great black-furred steed, and the retinue, came thundering down into the capital to see who would come into power, as of today, the head still remains free from maggots.

"So many people, liars, theives, criminals, and playthings here today." he remarked as he disembarked, "Shame it isn't a cloudy day, this brightness is really annoying.".

[The Twelve Isles]

Siona Willun

Siona watched as nobles filtered into the palace, the crowds growing ever larger. Some were on top of buildings, doing their best to peer into the great hall to see what was happening, though they were only successful. It wasn't like they could see much, and it wasn't like the building was built so people could easily see into it from outside. Occasionally one would shout down into the crowds what was happening, and the word would get passed along through the ranks of peasants and merchants. One shouted down, yelling into the crowds "I think something's happening. It's the feast I think, they're about to start the ceremonies!" Siona was near the back of the crowd, and heard as the person yelled. The cry was quickly picked up by people around her, and soon it was all over the square, and Siona could feel a noticeable change in emotion. It switched from contemplative to suddenly full of fervor and excitement. Siona became nervous, thinking about Rithi. She had wandered off to buy herself another drumstick and some ale, and Siona realized she had been gone for a little while. Big crowds like this were certainly not safe for young girls, especially not at a time of such fervor as one like this.

"Rithi!" she called, searching the crowds for her young friend. She couldn't get her voice to carry right though, there was to much noise in the square. She set off, searching the vendors, and asked around for Rithi. The first two hadn't seen her, but the last had, and told Siona that she had bought a turkey leg from them and then made her way towards a bar at the edge of the square. Siona thanked the vendor, and began to weave her way through the crowd. She made her way into the bar, pushing the door open to a full bar, filled with folks from all walks of life. There were hedge knights and mercenaries eating and drinking right by rich merchants and peasant farmers. Siona made her way in, sliding through the crowd, and making her way to the bartender. "Sir," she said. He gave her a finger, telling her to wait one second while he served someone their ale. Siona ignored it, and spoke again, "Sir," and the man gave her the wait a moment finger again. Siona slapped her hand onto the bar, getting the bartenders attention. "Hey!" she said, her voice more intent now. "Have you seen a girl in here, about yea high and very blonde?"

"You mean that one?" said the bartender, pointing down the bar. Rithi was there to be sure, drinking a tall mug of ale and seemingly about to get into a fight with a mercenary looking type, one who was tall and scared and clearly not the type to fight. Siona didn't thank the bartender, but pushed her way through the crowd, making her way to Rithi. She couldnt hear what they were saying, but it was clear that Rithi did not understand just who the kind of person was that she was dealing with. Siona watched as eventually Rithi, clearly angered by the mercenary's words, said something to him and turned away back to the bar. Some of the other's around the mercenary laughed at what Rithi said, and the mercenary recoiled with a look of righteous indignation on his face. He grabbed Rithi's arm and spun her back around, raising his hand to hit her, when Siona arrived. She stuck her own hand out and caught the mercenary's hit, before placing her right palm on his chest and conjuring up a blast of wind. She blasted him back a few feet, knocking him into others in the bar. She stood tall in front of Rithi, standing at around equal height to many of the men in the room as the mercenary gathered his wits about him on the floor.

"Who the fuck do you think your starting a fight with here, you damn whore," he said to Siona, beginning to stand and putting his hand on his sword.

"Dont stand up," said Siona, "or Ill make a fool out of you."

"Do you know who you're talking to?" he said.

"A nobody," said Siona. A crowd had formed around them, and they all had grown quiet at the fight that was about to take place. Rithi had melted back, getting out of the way, and looking on with a face of awe, like she was watching a great spectacle.

The mercenary pulled his sword and swung, and Siona quickly dodged, drawing her own sword as the crowd collectively recoiled. The mercenary spun around and swung again, and Siona parried, swinging her other hand out and clasping it around the mercenary's neck. She brought forth cold, unlike any cold that existed on earth naturally, and he suddenly had a look of surprise fear and pain on his face. He knocked Siona's hand off of his neck as quick as he could, but not before the damage was done. He came away with a black hand print on his neck, where frostbit had already begun to set in, and breathing awkwardly and wrong. His eyes flashed with fury as he struck at Siona again, trying to get a hit in on her. She dodged his attacks, parrying when she needed to, and waited for her chance to strike once more. Soon, he swung at her in a large overhead strike, his other hand still clasped around his neck and his breathing growing worse by the second, and Siona quickly parried his blow, grabbing his arm while he was off balance, and conjuring the cold again. He yelled out in surprise and fear, though it was strangulated and awkward due to the condition of his throat. Siona watched as his hand blackened with frost bite, and gripped tighter when he tried to pull away.

"I yield!" he said, "I yield! Please, just don't hurt me!" Siona let him go, and pushed him into the par.

"You should find a doctor quick, otherwise you may lose the arm or your throat will collapse," said Siona. The mercenary looked up at her, whimpering in embarrassment and pain, and Siona placed her sword back into its scabbard. The crowd had begun to leave the bar, and Siona could tell from some of them that the guard would be brought here soon. She needed to leave, it was very suddenly not safe in the city anymore. Just one more reason why she didn't like being in cities, and preferred the open road. Less chance of landing oneself in trouble. She leaned down and picked up the mercenary's sword, and placed it back into his own scabbard for him, before repeating her earlier sentiment. "Go, find a doctor, one who can use magic to save your arm."

The mercenary nodded, and quickly jogged from the building. The tavern had mostly cleared at this point, leaving just Siona standing in the middle of the floor, and Rithi on the sidelines. "We need to leave," said Siona.

"What," said Rithi, "why? Whats happening?"

Sion turned and grabbed Rithi's shoulder, leading the younger girl out of the bar and back onto the street. She looked over her shoulder, scanning for any guard, and pushing Rithi along. "We're leaving," she said, "because of all the times to start a bar fight, its not when an Emperor is about to be coronated."

"We were just defending ourselves though," said Rithi, "how ca-"

"No, I was defending you," interjected Siona, "but more importantly, even if that is the case the guard is not going to just let some mage waltz into their city, freeze a man's arm, and then stand close to the palace, and they are not going to tolerate her friend who started the fight either."

Rithi gave Siona a look, but said nothing more as she was pushed through the crowds and back onto the streets of the Imperial City. She kept glancing over her shoulders, and scanning for guards, and on multiple occasions ducked her and Rithi through alleyways and around piles of crates and barrels to avoid guards on patrol, until at long last they were out of the city. Siona was frustrated, she had meant to see the coronation for a reason. It was her choice to go, to see who was chosen, and so she could see where her allegiances would lie. But now, that did not seem like it would be the case. Rithi on the other hand, though disappointed by the fact that she didn't get to hear was coronated, was much happier with how her day had gone. Siona suspected that it was the most excitement she had had in her whole life. Siona had stopped talking as much, feeling frustrated with Rithi, and wishing a little that she had not agreed to take her along. She dropped Rithi off back with her aunt, Misasha, but chose not to inform the older woman of the kind of trouble Rithi could have gotten them both into, before setting back out onto the road.

She walked until it was near nightfall, coming up to the next town over, farther from the city but still close enough that she could see some of the light from it just over the hills. She got a room in the inn, and ate her food, before studying the map she carried with her. It was old and dusty, and torn in more than a few places, but it had been with her since the start of her adventures and she was not about to give it up easily. She marked the roads she would take with lead, tracing her planned route further south to the vineyards, and the lands controlled by the vampire's. She was unsure, even a little afraid of going to the vampires, but they controlled something she wanted. Montesquieu. Or, really, she wanted in too Montesquieu. It was said to be one of the greatest library in the world, filled with ancient magical texts and historical documents. Weapons, artifacts and ancient technologies. It was a scholars paradise, and no one had ever been in but the ancient Vampire Counts. She even highly doubted she would be able to get in herself, but she figured it would be better to try than to just give up without even seeing if it could be done. She had done her research about the current leaders of the vampires, and had even chosen her mark to try and convince, a knight named Sir Morr Grimm. He was said to be gruff, no nonsense, and more than a little frightening. But, he was also known to be fair, and in the grand scheme of things his reputation was that of a man who cared for his people and for his land, and did what he could to protect them and keep them safe. Siona hoped she could use that as leverage, after all, her goals were much the same. She learned magic not to fight and kill, but to try and make the world a better place.

She meditated again that night, contemplating her dreams and her day, searching for signs. So far, nothing much could be gleaned, or at least no clear meanings. Still, she continued to find herself sensitive to images of water, mysterious lights beneath the waves, and fire rising from the deep. She couldn't make sense of it, but she could tell that it was important. She wrote it down before she went to bed, thinking it over in her conscious mind. It was all very strange, but then, dreams were always strange. At least this time she was trying to interpret her own dreams, walking other's subconscious was its own mess of confused imagery, half made thoughts and frightening hidden depths that not even most were aware that they had. She went to sleep that night much less, comfortable, but instead unsure. She could tell strange things were coming, but just what exactly she wasn't sure.

*****

"Rithi?" said Siona, her voice surprised. The girl looked back at Siona with an awkwardness that Siona didn't remember from her last time seeing her, days ago now.

"Hey," she said, her voice a little guilty and awkward. She carried a walking stick, and a long dagger on her belt. She still had not shoes though.

Siona sat at the side of the road, on a rock, and ate her lunch. When she heard the sounds of feet behind her after she sat down, she hadn't expected much more than a merchant, or hedge knight, not one who she knew. But when she saw Rithi's thin frame round the bend in the road, her spectacularly blond head cresting the top of the hill, Siona thought that it was a mirage at first. But as Rithi came closer, she saw as the girl stopped, started to turn, and then turn back, a look of being found out in some secret on her face. She blushed bright red, her face looking like a tomato. She had walked up to Siona when Siona called out to her, her head low and her feet shuffling in front of Siona, unable to meet her gaze.

"Rithi," said Siona, "what are you doing out here?" Siona's voice held no malice, but was stern. Rithi immediately felt that there was no hope in escaping Siona's questions, so she chose not to lie. Besides, she was scared that Siona would be able to tell with some sort of magic.

"I was, uh, kind of following you," said Rithi. "I was hoping I might be able to talk to you later, and, well, you know."

"I don't," said Siona.

"I was hoping you would let me travel with you." She closed her mouth, and looked Siona in the eye, trying to keep the truth in. But Siona had a way of looking that was far too wise for her years, and Rithi quickly broke under the stare of Siona's black eyes. Before she could stop herself, she was pouring all her motivations out on the hot southern road. "It's just, I've never even really left my village before, and I've spent my whole life in that inn serving travelers ale. I was bored, and tired of having to always fight with my aunt about money, and so our trip to the Imperial City was the first exciting thing that has ever happened. So, I figured I would follow you, and that maybe you would let me if I proved I could carry my weight. You don't even have to teach me any magic, I can learn on my own, and I'll help you with things like collecting firewood and carrying things and stuff like that. I know how to set up a tent, and I can cook pretty good. I won't get in the way, I swear. I just. . . I mean. . . I've never done anything before in my life. And this is my chance to be a somebody."

Siona studied Rithi, looking her up and down. She had certainly kept up this far, and she seemed smart, if a little naive. Siona wasn't exactly happy, but it would be wrong at this point to turn her back. At least, that was how she felt. "You need some shoes," she said.

"What," said Rithi.

"If you want to travel, you need shoes. Otherwise you'll cut your feet." Rithi looked down at her feet, eying the bloody bandage she had tied around the left one.

'A little late for that,’ she thought wryly.

“And you're gonna want to change out that bandage, or your foot'll get infected.”

Siona stood, and began making her way down the road again. Rithi stayed where she was, just like when they first met in the inn. Siona paused, and turned again, and gave Rithi a wave. "Come on," she said. "If your gonna travel, you have to use your feet."

Rithi grinned so wide it was practically ear to ear, and she ran to catch up with Siona. She couldn't stop smiling for the whole day as the two set off down the road.

*****

Siona looked up at Stonehollow, the estate of the vampire knight Morr Grimm. It was surprisingly pleasant, and rose up over the golden fields in a way that seemed warm and welcoming. Rithi stood next to Siona on her left, her hand over her eyes to block out the sun, and shifted in her new boots. They were a bright, shining leather, and looked a little garish accompanied by Rithi's rather drab dress and brown travel cloak. “It's kind of pretty,” she said, glancing at Siona. Siona simply nodded, looking over the mansion. She just hoped that she could gain something from this trip. It would be a shame if she had to leave the coronation behind and walk all the way down south for nothing.

“It's a little hard to believe that a person with a reputation like Morr Grimm's lives in a place as. . . I don't know. . . Simple as this.”

“That it is,” said Siona.

She threw her cloak over her shoulder, the black silk glinting a little in the light even despite it's worn out state. She rested her hand on her sword as she stepped forward, making her way to the gate. Two guards stood out front, looking bored but wary, and they stood straighter and hefted their weapons as Siona approached. When she reached them, one held out his hand in a command to stop and spoke. “What are you doing here,” he said. “I was not aware of Sir Grimm having any appointments for today.”

“I'm not here on appointment,” said Siona, “though I do hope to make one. If he cannot see me today, I can come tomorrow, or the day after. But I am determined to see your master.”

The guard looked to his colleague, who gave a shrug and a sideways glance at Siona. “And what is it that your business is exactly?” he said.

“I wish to discuss with him the state of Montesquieu.”

The guards both laughed, their faces instantly brightening at the ridiculousness of that request. Hardly any vampires had been allowed into the library, let alone mortal humans who came wandering up along the road. “Do you know what kind of a request that is girl?” Said the guard on the right, his amusement equally clear in his voice as it was in his face.

“I am aware, but I am also well aware of the fact that I am an accomplished mage and scholar, the kind who Morr Grimm may wish to speak too.”

“Is that so,” said the guard.

“Yes,” said Siona. “It is so.”

The guard chuckled again at this, and asked, “well then, Lady Mage, who just might you be that Sir Grimm would wish to speak to you?”

“I am Siona Willun, sealer of the Damned Lord, walker of dreams, summoner of the crows,” said Siona. She hoped it would work. While she knew her skills were above average, she was still no master. It was her hope that these guards wouldn't know about magic, and that the titles that the peasants had given her would be enough to impress them. And even if it wasn't, she would meet with Morr Grimm one way or another.

[Woodstovia]

Lord Aerion d'Autriche
the Grand Palace of the Regine Estate
Terra-Primira

Aerion glared angrily as Carnifex suddenly turned on the spot and marched away, not even noticing the gift Aerion had tried handing him. The mithril armour was quickly shoved back inside the grand chest of tresures. If he doesn't want it you can wear it when you take his life! the voice suggested and Aerion smiled at the thought. Who did he think he was? Not even an Emperor would dare to even acknowledge a lord of his stature. Did he not know of Aerion's greatness? Of the men he'd slain of his skill with sword of his beauty even though he stared right at him? A great fire raged inside the young lord as he stormed towards the great hall, trying to maintain a facade of being calm and composed.

Aerion barely listened as some old man rambled through a much too long speech, more preoccupied by admiring his new sword. When it came time to clap or toast however Aerion threw his heart into it, putting on a big show of trying to be the most loyal and attentive lord there. As the speech ended Aerion rose to his feet and went around the table, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, laughing and gossiping effortlessly with the other lords. Eventually making it around to a small cluster of lords his age.

He kissed the cheek of Duke Valarius, Duke Randyll and some dragon looking thing he'd never heard of before. "It's so lovely seeing this meeting wasn't full of old greybeards" he beamed dazzlingly. "They'd probably try and nominate some old skeleton that did something mildly impressive during their youths." he laughed lightly before quickly moving on, talking at a rapid pace. "Duke Randyll it's a pleasure to see you, ah! It's Grand Duke now isn't it. Everyone has such flashy titles and I'm only a lord." he lamented "though perhaps at the end of the day I'll have a much nicer title." he winked, turning to Valarius "And you my dear friend I have the perfect gift for you! I brought a cask of my finest Aceiwynian wine. I hope to convert you and your kin from ale by the end of the night!" I wonder if they know what wine even tastes like, their palette is probably ruined from all the wolf piss they drink. The voice was louder now and Aerion had to suppress a snigger. "And you!" he said awkwardly, not recognizing any of the dragon-thing's pins or sigils. "You must forgive me but I have not yet had the pleasure of your acquaintance. It's surprising to see a non-human here."

[Zapatha]

(Image)

Lord Aerion d'Autriche
the Grand Palace of the Regine Estate
Terra-Primira

Aerion glared angrily as Carnifex suddenly turned on the spot and marched away, not even noticing the gift Aerion had tried handing him. The mithril armour was quickly shoved back inside the grand chest of tresures. If he doesn't want it you can wear it when you take his life! the voice suggested and Aerion smiled at the thought. Who did he think he was? Not even an Emperor would dare to even acknowledge a lord of his stature. Did he not know of Aerion's greatness? Of the men he'd slain of his skill with sword of his beauty even though he stared right at him? A great fire raged inside the young lord as he stormed towards the great hall, trying to maintain a facade of being calm and composed.

Aerion barely listened as some old man rambled through a much too long speech, more preoccupied by admiring his new sword. When it came time to clap or toast however Aerion threw his heart into it, putting on a big show of trying to be the most loyal and attentive lord there. As the speech ended Aerion rose to his feet and went around the table, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, laughing and gossiping effortlessly with the other lords. Eventually making it around to a small cluster of lords his age.
He kissed the cheek of Duke Valarius, Duke Randyll and some dragon looking thing he'd never heard of before. "It's so lovely seeing this meeting wasn't full of old greybeards" he beamed dazzlingly. "They'd probably try and nominate some old skeleton that did something mildly impressive during their youths." he laughed lightly before quickly moving on, talking at a rapid pace. "Duke Randyll it's a pleasure to see you, ah! It's Grand Duke now isn't it. Everyone has such flashy titles and I'm only a lord." he lamented "though perhaps at the end of the day I'll have a much nicer title." he winked, turning to Valarius "And you my dear friend I have the perfect gift for you! I brought a cask of my finest Aceiwynian wine. I hope to convert you and your kin from ale by the end of the night!" I wonder if they know what wine even tastes like, their palette is probably ruined from all the wolf piss they drink. The voice was louder now and Aerion had to suppress a snigger. "And you!" he said awkwardly, not recognizing any of the dragon-thing's pins or sigils. "You must forgive me but I have not yet had the pleasure of your acquaintance. It's surprising to see a non-human here."

"Lord Aerion, the pleasure is all mine. As you well know however titles seem to breed titles, even though mine came at the expense of my father's life." he said, showing a smile though concealing his sadness about his father's passing. Lord Aerion however seemed to be a nice enough man, and Randyll let the small issue go.

"To be frank with both of you, I'd prefer some old skeleton over Lord Carnifex any day....." Randyll stopped midsentence, now thinking about what Aerion had said, "....but perhaps what the Empire needs is a young leader at its helm, not some 40 something year old half-wit who is famous only for some battle they took part in or Carnifex."

[Ruskland-Preuben]

Lord Arthurius IV Conradiner
the Grand Palace

Arriving at the doors of the Grand Palace, he slowly beheld the halls beyond those doors. Nothing positive or negative, well, perhaps the fact that, again, the place was simply too bright for his tastes. Slinking past those doors like a bat in a cave, he quickly was greeted by the sight of nobility chatting, and from what he could see, it was the Lord Aerion d’Autriche, “Peacock”, Lord Valerius XXXIII Velira “Fossil”, General Liecsturn von Draconia-Sterpol “Abomination”, and Grand Duke Randyll Lancelet “Pompous youngling”. Ah, the voice was at it again, having a snide tone and callous attitude, unfit for this body. He quickly quashed it with a thought and it whimpered before him in his mind, as it always did, and always will.

He then casually strode to the group like a moving void and began to talk in his deep baritone voice, just after the Grand Duke spoke his opinion about the Carnifexes, “And I most certainly agree, Grand Duke.” he began, “We definitely need something fresh, and the Carnifexes are rotten.”. He then turned to the Grand Duke, his gaze setting upon him, “Young leader hmm? You’re quite young yourself Grand Duke Randyll.”.

[Woodstovia]

Lord Aerion d'Autriche
the Grand Palace of the Regine Estate
Terra-Primira

"And the Grand Duke was just told that I was considering a run." Aerion said, a little forcefully. He wasn't about to let some other potential candidate gain stupid grandiose thoughts in his head. Especially not a potential candidate which would share many of his most appealing qualities (namely youth and energy). He forced himself to kiss the new lord despite feeling like he was about to throw up. While Aerion's oils and perfumes masked it a little there was undoubtedly an unpleasant stench which poured from Arthurius. One which smelled suspiciously like death.

"It's a pleasure to see you as always Lord Conradiner, I brought an exquisite dagger forged by my finest smiths just for you! it's beautiful!" he forced a smile though he wasn't sure how much a man like him would appreciate beauty. "I'm surprised to hear so many of you dismiss out beloved Lord Carnifex." he slipped in with a wry smile. "I had heard of some ugly rumours but just dismissed them, I'm surprised they've taken root so thoroughly, are you not proud of our glorious inquisitors and their fine work?" there was a hint of sarcasm dripping through his voice and mentioning the rumours surrounding Carnifex was no mistake although Aerion didn't exactly care if the man kept slaves or not.

[Ruskland-Preuben]

Lord Arthurius IV Conradiner
the Grand Palace

A forceful voice, hmm, the peacock had promise, indeed. Those who cannot enforce their will upon the land are not fit to rule at all, but a will of evil was something to abhor. This man, neutral at worst to be honest. Perfume and brightness, how could his day get any better? Maybe a Carnifex appearing would put the cherry on top? Then the man spoke more words, forced out words it seems, understandable, he was never one to be approachable anyway. Except his wife and children, but that was common sense, as he needed to be approachable to his children. But enough of that, he was given a rather exquisite knife. “Hmm, this knife indeed, is quite nice,” he rumbled, “It shall serve my purposes nicely indeed, why, thank you Lord Aerion.”.

Then the Lord spoke more, this time, sarcasm, about the Carnifexes. This was going to be good. He would pull all the stops and simply just say, “St. Steven Massacres”. “Unfamiliar?” he inquired, then he resumed speaking, “the Massacres were a set of slaughters in the city of St. Steven on the borderlands, the Carnifexes have desperately tried to hide proof.”.

“But we remember.”.

[Zapatha]

"Believe me Lord Conradiner, I wouldn't dream of becoming a candidate for becoming the next emperor. I'm quite content with my own lot in life, as Eroria is my home and to be honest is much warmer and more...peaceful." Randyll said, somewhat taken aback by the notion of setting forth his candidacy. Sure, being emperor would have a few perks but at what cost? Surely whomever sits next on the Terran Throne would inherit many nasty problems such as regions seceding from the empire, as well as imperial court intrigue. "I do believe however that two of the most clear cut choices for emperor stand before us however, as both Lord Aerion and Duke Velarius have admirable qualities that set them apart from the rest of the pack."

However Lord Aerion's comment quickly caught Randyll's attention, and his demeanor changed somewhat as he said "Oh the Inquisition has done a mighty fine job Lord Aerion under Lord Carnifex, but at what cost? The Inquisition is a corrupt organization just like its corrupt head. Even if these allegations are incorrect about Lord Carnifex however, I still wouldn't seat a man who inspired such rumors on the Gaian throne."

[Elysian Kentarchy]

I open my mouth to speak in response but we are interrupted by that general who brought his whole damn army here, the smile quickly departs my face and my face turns back into the face of the Icy Duke that I wear abroad but I think I went a step too far as my breath fogs for a few moments but I quickly calm it down and return my body temperature to normal. "Unfortunately it is his, Grand Duke Randyll." I inform him, my tone forcefully neutral and I withdraw from the conversation to observe, I share the sentiments that Carnifax is absolutely unacceptable and unsuited to be Emperor but I wouldn't trust this General as far as I could throw him, not with maintaining our Empire.


(In response to Wood's post)


Oh great, the preening peacock. I think to myself and comment with nod, keeping my unchanging expression. "The lands of Aceiwyn are well known for the quality of their wines so I would be glad to add it to the wine cellars of the Icy Keep. Thank you."I raise my hand and make a gesture for one of my guards, who was on the shift to watch me, to come over and I hand it to him. "Please do take this to my quarters." He nods and departs and I make a mental note to have a mage check it for poison when I get home but it would be a good gift seeing as my sisters are fond of wine and I was meaning to pick some up before I get home. "Unfortunately I wish I could return the favor but I have a feeling a land such as yours has everything you could ever want and not need much from my own humble lands."


(In response to Wood and Zapa's comments on old men)


I bring my hand up to my chin in thought though. "It does seem like many of the Lords here are actually pretty young or heirs were sent in the place of the older ones." I tilt my head to Aleksander in acknowledgement. "As for putting some greybeard on the throne that means we would have to look at his spawn. Undoubtedly some of them are just milksops after all and when their fathers go senile, if they aren't already, they will rule the land via him. And that is if he even lasts past the night of the coronation. So perhaps a young leader who can learn to rule more than he already knows and is capable of teaching his heirs to rule in his stead." And Lord Aerion is not qualified in the slightest if what I heard about his negligence was true. If you plant a bad tree in the beginning then only bad fruit will come from it. I think but do not add.


(In response to the part about the Inquisition)

I sigh internally, it seems though our little corner gathering has gained more and more people. Lord Arthurius IV Conradiner, a cruel but just man, not exactly popular with his people but harsh on bandits and slavers, so likely an enemy of Carnifex if his comments on the Inquisition weren't obvious enough. "The Inquisition in my lands is a bothersome topic Lord Conradiner. The common man hates them, the Vigil of Magi is absolutely wary of them in fears of being executed for some perceived heresy, and the villagers see them as dangerous since they are poking around the Black Forests. Though they learned pretty quickly our people will not stand to be pushed around by some southerner." I flash a grin but it fades quickly. "Now if only they would learn to not poke around in the Forests, there are dangers there that I do not want to deal with. And that doesn't even cover how the dwarves in my lands view them. Regardless of the rumors that surround the Inquisition and their master, Lord Aerion, them poking around the Black Forests and rousing the beasts therein is something I will not tolerate, especially because two villages were wiped out and I had to mobilize parts of the Standing Army and the Vigil to force them back into the forests after their last 'expedition'. The rumors are just icing on the cake for why I view it as a bad idea to have that man on Her Majesty's throne."

(In the current conversation about taking the throne)

I let out a chuckle that I reserve for when I am talking fondly about my people when the Grand Duke mentioned me taking the throne. "Well certainly making me Emperor would keep my people from revolting due to finding the proposed candidate unacceptable like they would Carnifex" I don't mention that I would be revolting along with them "but I would only do that if I found either all the other candidates unacceptable or a threat to the continued existence of the Empire. The duty of my House has always been loyal protection of and service to House Regine so I would need to oppose having its legacy destroyed." And with the interested candidates so far being this peacock and Carnifex and with Grand Duke Randyll, who I would have accepted, turning down the idea I'm going to have to. If only to show the defiance of the North against this mistake.

"But if it came down to it and I had to I could leave the rule of my lands to my sister. She is a capable administrator and rules when I am away anyway." I am trying to tread carefully as I do not want to get into a row with Lord Aerion, such things are always bothersome and not worth the effort, not right now. I would give my real feelings if he wasn't standing in front of me. Ah, to hell with it. "So yeah I do have an interest depending on what I observe tonight. I might be pleasantly surprised but if not then duty calls."