Clash of Kingdoms IC:

[Nuridia]

Link to OOC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=475801

Empress Sunre, Holy Isleven Empire:
Council Chambers, Imperial Palace: 6:45 am

The young empress was where she often was these days; taking council with her advisors...at far too early o’clock in the morning if you asked her. Her late father had prepared all his children for potential rulership one day, drilling into their heads that it was a lot of hard work and sacrifice. But one thing he left out was the arguing, there would be so. Much. Arguing. Nobody ever agreed on anything, nobody had the same goals and being empress was turning out to be a lot of going back and forth with people who saw you as a kid. The nobles wanted to fight the commoners, the military wanted to fight the scholars, and Sunre was here sitting in the middle of it all, listening intently swamped in the layers of her nightdress and over-robes despite being tired and hungry and a bit grouchy if she could be quite frank. Hardly in any condition to listen to all of this tripe, but she knew that it was important.
“Your Imperial Majesty, I must again insist on this new proposal.” That would be her minister of finance, François Tellier, a large man with a thick gray mustache. A decent enough fellow, but could be a little tight with the purse strings. Sunre cleared her throat. “We’ve been over this, my lords...the military does not need more funding. To do so would imbalance the budget, and we’re not even at war right now. I read the accounts myself. François, you presented them to me.”

“Well the army must remain strong, my lady. To protect the empire’s borders.”
“I’m aware of that, but as for now there isn’t a problem that needs money tossed at it. We have weapons, we have enough men, the barracks are being maintained...plus where do you think the funding for schools and infrastructure comes from? We can’t afford to cut those right now.” Just then another man, her Minister of War spoke up. “With all due respect, Majesty...you are..”
“What? Young? Inexperienced? It’s okay, you can say it.” She said, perfectly calm but her look daring him to finish what he started. These men all saw her as a child...especially the military, they wielded considerable power and far too often didn’t show enough respect. This was getting them absolutely nowhere, why couldn’t they see that? They may have been able to bully and bluster their way with other emperors but not her. She wouldn’t be a warmongering empress, the problem areas would be her concern first and addressing them. No matter. The throne was hers, meaning she had a duty to her people to make sure they were fed. Meaning she had to budget carefully. “I know you think me childish, gentlemen but I am not empty headed. I mean to do what is best for this empire, and that means setting aside our squabbles, getting on common ground, building bridges and focusing on what really matters.” Her stomach growled, and she stood up slowly with a cheerful smile on her face. “Let us adjourn for now; I’m sure none of us have eaten yet and the sun isn’t even fully up.”


Termain, Orias Royal Stronghold
Asmodea Brightflame

The palace was filled with the hustle and bustle of dozens of servants, knights, ministers and many others who were part of the cogs that made up the great machine of government, constantly turning to keep the kingdom running. Keeping it running smoothly was more important than ever right now, as Termain threatened to rip itself in two over the North’s stubborn inability to choose a fairly elected and quite frankly, excellent leader. Tali had been chosen, why couldn’t the people just accept that? She was strong, she was decisive, she was brilliant, and most of all she was open. Open to new ideas, expanding horizons...open to people and cultures who were different, and that’s what Dea appreciated about Orias. A Torian king would never have accepted someone like her in their court despite her talent, well if they did the odds would be one in a million...as firmly entrenched in tradition as they were. With her deep red skin, long tail, glowing orange eyes and curving horns, she scared most people she met. Tradition wasn’t a bad thing, it was the stubborn refusal to see past one’s own nose that was the problem.

Wizardry was all about exploring everything, expanding as large as possible, Dea thought as she sat at her desk in one of the taller palace towers, a grimoire open in front of her and detailed notes of runes and symbols on sheets of paper. Exploring all the possibilities about magic, about changing the world around you, seeing what you could create. That was wizardry, staunch traditionalism would stop progress. This spell seemed quite old, she had found this book while on a trip to some islands down south last month...she hadn’t really seen much like it. Magic was her companion, it was strange and alien like her, not wanting to fit in but wanting to exist as it’s own thing. Much like Tali when she thought about it, the girl had a personality quite similar to her own and many of the same issues...most importantly, she didn’t judge her or run away based off her looks, she treated her like any other normal person and that was enough to earn Dea’s staunch loyalty.

[Of the Quendi]

Marseille. The Pearl of Paralia and the Jewel of the Tourmaline Sea, the grandest and most majestic city of the kingdom to which it lent its name, and indeed the whole of Paralia. Far and wide it was famed for its wealth and power and splendor, home, some said, to a million souls, its streets paved with gold, its beggars garbed in silks and its street urchins playing with rubies in place of pebbles, the city had captivated the imagination of poets and bards since the days of Cordulian the Golden and for good reason.

Sitting on the northern shore of the Tourmaline Sea the city had a roughly rectangular shape, with the Tourmaline Sea to its south and with the pristine Lake Alba to its north. Prevented by the only two miles separating those bodies of water the city had been unable to expand north or south and so as it had grown beyond the confines of the massive Triple Walls raised up by the Paralian emperors of Black obsidian rock to guard the city, expanding east and west of the old town. Within the new Outer Walls raised by Petronian the Great, first and greatest of the Kings of All the Massalians three thousand and five hundred hectares of densely populated territory existed.

Yet even that had not been enough to sate the desire of the multitudes that longed to call the Queen of Cities their home. Beyond the Outer Walls, ten meters tall and half again as thick built of solid brick and reinforced with concrete made according to the ancient Paralian ways, suburbs had grown up on the banks of Lake Alba or following the Lesser Canal, a ninety kilometer structure connecting Lake Alba to the great river Rhodanube, established by Aemilian the Golden to turn Marseille into the truly dominant commercial hub not only of its own kingdom but Paralia itself. Many of these suburbs was consequential towns in their own right, teeming with craftsmen, artisans, merchants, mercenaries, artists, burghers and tradesmen of a thousand professions, all interested with the great suburban manors and palaces of the powerful Paralhina nobles of Marseille.

Yet even the greatest of its suburbs, would it have been considered a great and mighty city anywhere else, was but a village next to the splendor of Marseille within her Outer Walls. The White City, so-called for the ubiquitous use of marble in the construction of every palace, or major public building and white limestone and concrete in the massive residential blocks for the common folk, was spectacular. On the harbors of its ports, of which there where two major ones and many smaller, where teeming with merchants and sailors speaking in all the tongues of Paralia and even some from beyond as every day saw the coming and going of large flotillas of ships carrying all manner of goods too and from Marseille. Each major civilization of the continent had a factory or ghetto in Marseille where they could live according to their own customs and creeds while they was in Marseille, protected by their consuls and employed by their guilds, whether their stay in the city be short or long. Over the mercantile harbors, on the peninsula of Anadiles, separating the principal harbors from one another the Admiralty, the Royal Navy port and the massive Arsenal towered forbiddingly warning pirates and smugglers of the maritime might and power of Marseille. In the port of the Royal Navy never lay less than a hundred galleys or galleasses of war, armed to the teeth and manned by the professional mariners of the kingdom, reminding all of the might and authority of the Admiralty Board, and from the Arsenal where twenty thousand Marselhina found their employ another was constructed every single day.

Further inland from the ports where the large apartments of the common folk of Marseille. It was not true, as the saying went, that beggars wore silk and street urchins played with rubies. Rather the locals had a truer saying: that nowhere in the world is the rich richer than in Marseille and nowhere is the poor poorer. But for the poverty of much of the population, confined to towering residential buildings, five and six stories tall, living in small cramped apartments paying a ruinous rent to the lord or merchant who owned the building as it found itself, there was relief to be had in the Queen of Cities that could not be found elsewhere. From large royal granaries the poor could receive a grain dole to feed themselves and their families courtesy of the King's Majesty, and in the massive bathhouses of the city the unwashed masses could find refreshment of the body, while the grand temples to a thousand goods provided ease for the soul. On feast days shows could be seen in the theatres or the circuses. And though political power in Marseille rested squarely in the hand of the Paralhina in all other respects the city was a meritocratic place. Many a lowly street urchin had entered the gates of the Great Library and seen its four hundred thousand tomes, or went to the many rich colleges of the university attached to the library, becoming a powerful magician, a learned philosopher, a pious priest, a trusted scribe or entered any of the other academical professions to become rich and powerful and famous. Or, for the more martially inclined, there was always the War Academy or the Admiralty School where those with the skill could become brilliant strategists or tacticians to be employed by the King's war cabinet. Many option existed in the city of dreams, yet for most it would remain only dreams, for in Marseille if you were not rich you better be Paralhina and if you were neither you had absolutely be brilliant and most of the citydwellers lived and died in abject poverty under the hand of the King's Majesty.

Yet the city contained a large and dynamic middle class of trained professionals, artisans, craftsmen and the lesser merchants which on the vast markets of the city plied their services and goods to one another. The largest of the markets was visited daily by forty thousand souls, twice as many on feast days and it was larger than many a city in the kingdom or elsewhere. On a single day the great market saw the exchange of a thousand marks silver (in Marseille only the very poorest deigned to use coppers). Yet the true economic heart of the city was on the great bourse and at the great banking houses sprung up around it. There a man with gold coins was considered a pauper. There only promissory notes, backed by the Royal Mint mattered, for the bargains there struck would require far more gold than any single man could carry on his person. There the richest of the Paralhina nobles and the great merchant princes would buy or sell in bulk massive amounts of goods and enter into lucrative agreements with one another. From this small quarter of the city half the commerce of Paralia was dictated by men who in many cases had never been outside the city. Adjacent to the bourse they could conveniently find the Royal Mint. Every day gold from the gold fields in the Hiberian provinces and vassal states, guarded by the Imperial Legions, would reach the mint and be minted into carefully weighed coins, and promissory notes would be issued to the grand merchant princes and banking houses to allow them to continue their commercial activities. It was a terrible day on the Bourse if promissory notes to the tune of less than a thousand mark gold was issues by the mint and on days when five hundred marks was issued the blow to the activities on the Bourse was so dramatic that it would reverberate far beyond the borders of the Kingdom and cause commercial and financial hardships among merchants in distant kingdoms and principalities of which the merchant princes and banking houses had never even heard. For that reason there was no greater priority of the His Majesty's government than to ensure a continuous gold supply.

Such was the city of Marseille as the eight century after the fall of Paralian Empire approached. Massive and monstrous, teeming with hundreds of thousands of people, rich or poor, powerful and inconsequential, the centre of commercial and financial activities for a continent, home to hundreds of ships, not counting the pleasure barges on Lake Alba. Within it its people lived and labored for the glory of the kingdom in whose centre they lived, all ruled over by the Might and Majesty of the great Paralian kings.

Yet the King was but a boy. For a lesser state this may have proven a problem but not in splendid Marseille. Long ago that kingdom had established a governing structure so formidable and complex as to render the active leadership of a king redundant. When Marseille was lacking in a strong king the Royal Bureacracy simply took over governing the state and the citizens hardly felt the difference, so irrelevant had direct royal involvement in the affairs of the kingdom become. Yet a quarter century had now passed since the demise of Petronian the Great and even in Marseille that was long to be without able leadership. Within the Triple Walls of Marseille, where only the Paralhina lord and the richest of merchant princes resided, the Royal compound and the palaces within it where the scene of fierce competition for power and control, as different factors of courtiers sought to secure control of Flavinian II Paralian's most Majestic government, and use it to further their own policies and thwart those of their rivals. Both the Council of the Sceptre and the Council of Marseille was feuding within and with one another over the direction of the Kingdom. Every policy and decision was contested as fiercely as was it a matter of Paralhina Law. The Most Gracious Sovereign Majesty, Flavinian II Paralian, King of All the Massalians was but as pawn in the schemes of his court and family. Yet even a pawn can play a crucial part in the games of kings, and only time will tell if Flavinian may become a player in his own right or remain the victim of other players.

[Zjaum]

Arkt stood atop the Sixth Mountain. Across the land, he saw fields of green and yellow, where the farmers had been tending to their crops. Wheat and raspberries, spearmint and thyme... Winds from the western seas brought the smells from the produce across the plains. The evergreen forests added their own fresh citrus smells, and the entire concoction would culminate at the mountains to rest. There was only one mountain in the Triinu Range through which the winds could carry their bounty across to the opposite side of the range: Wiaru'u. the Little Sixth.

To those who managed to climb such large slopes, the clouds that gathered provided beautiful patches of plant-work, trees and shrubs alike. The monastery had sponsored an herbs garden there, and tenants attended to its care on a daily basis. That wasn't quite where Arkt sat that day. There was a large clearing, where the mountain soil was too poor to grow anything of note. The path there was too thin for anyone beside the very small to cross. Even then, the dwarves of Keyrit were too sturdy and imbalanced to make the journey. Of the sapient life that remained, only Arkt was interested in reaching it. It was his own private place for meditation, where he could bask in the glory of the Yet-Unknown in peace and quiet.

He looked out across the land. It was said that Keyrit controlled everything as far as the eye could see. He had done some research and calculations; there was a small delta bank that Keyrit controlled, just out of sight. Most of it was hotly contested by Termain and neighboring regions in Marseille, but those living there were loyal to the Order. All else was sophistry. Further, there were lands across the river that he could barely see, which lay very promptly within Termain sovereignty. Still, it was generally accurate, and Arkt had learned to live with vagueties.

He looked to his side at a small number of rocks. It was here that he could imagine himself as the giant. With none else beside him with which he could compare, he imagined the stones as boulders, entire valleys of rocks beneath his feet. A beautiful feeling it was; he could only imagine what life must be like for the giants.

He took a deep breath. The beauteous farms had been quite productive this year. Keyrit always smelled beautiful, especially with the ancient sewer system provided by the monastery upon its founding. Still, it was especially so today. Arkt heard the bells in the distance. Bells of alarm, from the foul events of the past few weeks. He must depart, but he would return as owner and ruler of the lands over which he looked.

Talket Kokua rested on a sunken bed. There were many giants within the Order, but no pockets so concentrated as to effectively carry the body from his death bed to the grave. As such, they became one and the same. Arkt heard Talket, and smelled Talket, long before he saw Talket. The giant coughed a great deal, but the force from his lungs was too weak. Arkt appeared over the rim of the grave and knelt in reverence. "Ah, good. You've come," said the old chapter master.

"It is a day of great sorrow," replied Arkt.
"And yet, a day of joy," stated Kokua. "Long have I guarded the Order. Long have I studied the Truths. I have maintained it. After decades of leadership, I can finally rest. Perhaps I will at last see the Yet-Unknown."
"You will be missed, High Daskalarch."
"But not by you, I think," Kokua coughed again. "You are too headstrong for tears. I have failed to grow the Order. I only hope that my reforms have opened the way for you to grow it in my stead."
"What is your final will, sir?"
"All administration has been codified. All my advice, I have written. I will say only this: explore the Truths. Keep to your learning. Search for the Yet-Unknown. I wish you peace, but prosperity. I have utmost faith in you."
"I will do my best."
Kokua looked around to all the men and women beside him, and he clutched his chest. "Farewell, brothers! I join my fathers. May you all find true truth."

Kokua exhaled his final breath, his frail, large hand clasped over his heart. Even at his shrunken state, he was still a hundred times the mass that Arkt could ever hope to be. A man standing across the chasm-grave sounded a horn, letting those in the valley know the sombre news. "The rite of ascension will commence tomorrow. Daskalarch Stone-Melter, do you accept your call to glory?"

"Without hesitation," announced Arkt Stone-Melter. "For now, I rally four of my peers to act as ambassadors to the ends of the earth. We need allies, and they shall acquire them. They shall await my orders. My glory goes towards the glory of the Order. Light the incense, and commence the burial."

Arkt walked away to cry in peace as dirt was flung down on the High Daskalarch.

[Tomia]

Edward Mason
"Fantastic idea your majesty. A true testament to the fullness of your head." Ambassador Mason said as he stood from his seat. He had enjoyed her put down of Tellier. The old men on the council lacked any kind of vision beyond antiquated concepts of war and conquest. Sunre on the other hand showed true modern vision despite her young age. As Sunre left the council chamber, Edward was not far behind her. " Your majesty, I was hoping we could discuss a matter of great importance to me. Perhaps you would honor me by joining me for breakfast? I recently came into possession of some lovely tea from Marseille that I would be happy to share."

Queen Tali Adura, Tera Palace
"General Adia is to move south to reinforce the 5th Army at Reinhold Castle. I want her troops there by the end of the month. If the rebels take Reinhold they'll be able to cut us off from Eastern Falarg." Tali said, she was dictating to a scribe in her war room. It was a large chamber with multiple desks in the corners of the room. At the center was a large wood table that held a detailed map of Termain. It was currently a war map that depicted various armies and troop movements.

"If push forward into Hadivig, we could cut off their connection to the coast. Then we can starve them of trade from the South... That might be enough..." Tali said, muttering to herself as she moved two figures of ships towards the coast of Hadivig. Only Tali and her scribe were in the room at the moment as was not uncommon. Tali often preferred to plan in solitude. She didn't like others seeing her inner thought process or any indecision that might envelope her.

Soon there was a knock on her door, and she approached and opened it slightly. It was Karl Hart, a ranking member in her guard. "Sir Hart, what is it you need?"

"Pardon me your majesty, but there's a matter of justice that needs your attention." Tali nodded, following Karl out of the war room and into the main chamber of the palace. The throne room was quite regal, with stain glass windows across the walls and elegant sculptures dotting the hall. When she entered the large double doors she noticed a crowd had gathered who all bowed their heads at her presents, her knights had fallen to a knee out of respect but she quickly called them to rise. The crowd that had gathered in the gallery seemed to be mostly made up of common folk and some groups of soldiers. She wondered what the issue at hand might be.

As she sat down Karl stood at attention and shouted into the room.

"Hail the Queen!"

"Hail the Queen!" The gathered guards and citizens shouted in return.

"Those with business with the court please step forward." Tali said as she sat very properly in her throne. It was a rather decorative silver chair, with large diamonds that ordained the corners. She had privately suggested melting it down to support the war effort but her advisers reacted as if that was tantamount to treason.

An older man stepped forward from the gallery. He wore plain and battered clothes and looked as if he had sustained some minor injures. An armored man stepped forward, wearing the royal blue colors of Termain.

"Your majesty, this man here is Albert. He claims to have witnessed crimes perpetrated by soldiers against the village of Solkum."

"Albert, please tell me what happened." Tali said kindly as she looked upon the clearly petrified man.

"They took everything my lady. We weren't resisting and yet they killed everyone in sight and burned our village to the ground. I managed to escape, by hiding under..." He cast his eyes to the ground. "Under my wife your majesty."

Tali's expression went dark for a brief moment before returning her normal neutral expression. "I'm very sorry for your loss Albert. Termain grieves with you. I must ask, could you describe the soldiers?"

"They wore armor my lady, some metal some leather. They flew the Tremain flag I'm sure of it. I would always recognize the royal blue."

A soldier stepped forward from the gallery. "Your majesty, Solkum was aiding the enemy. They had been supplying a nearby fort with weapons and food for months. They were the enemy as far as we were concerned."

There was a pause for a moment as the soldier twitched uncomfortably under Tali's gaze.

"What is your name soldier?"

"Axel your majesty."

"Axel, farmers, blacksmiths, traders, they are not our enemy they are our countrymen. The men and women that take up arms against us are our enemy and it is them for which we must reserve our fury and our swords." The queen turned out to face the crowd.

"You have every right to be angry with the Tor. I am angry too. But our anger will not turn us into marauders. We must represent order, justice, and peace. Otherwise we are no better than the rebels who threaten our way of life. We must be better, I will tolerate no less."

She turned to her guards. "Arrest the officers of the battalion. The commander is to die, the others are to be branded and discharged from the military. And see the village rebuilt and the survivors compensated." Tali said and her guards nodding, leaving to see her will done. Karl stayed by her side, as she was never to left alone. Some of the troops in the crowd were clearly unhappy with the decision, but Albert the farmer was beaming at his queen.

"Thank you my lady, thank you." He said with tears in his eyes.

"Thank you Albert" She said taking his hand. "For having the bravery to speak up." With that Tali made her exit, Karl not far behind.

She returned to a nearby private study, taking a seat by the window. Karl stood by the door as he often did. Tali was known for sitting quietly in thought after making royal decisions. After about twenty minutes she spoke to Karl.

"Karl, you can leave, I don't want to hold you here watching me think."

"It's my duty your majesty, and an honor."

"Please, stop the pleasantries, I was taught at a young age that politeness is merely a clever form of lying. But I appreciate the lie non the less."

Karl couldn't help a smile. "If I may your majesty. You should eat something. You haven't all day."

"I'm fine Karl, you need not watch my diet. Watching for assassins is a job enough. Please, it would be best for both of us if you took a break and I had a moment alone."

Reluctantly Karl nodded and took his leave. However he didn't head towards his quarters or the mess hall, rather he made his way to the West tower. He climbed the tower on his way to the quarters of the Court Mage. Dea was the royal court mage, and happened to be half demon. The two of them had an on and off romantic relationship that was currently on again or at least... he thought it was. Karl was never sure with Dea. She was captivating and interesting and he found himself drawn to her in a way he had never felt for anyone else. Still, things were sometimes complicated. He eventually made his way to Dea's door, knocking and awaiting her answer.

[Nuridia]

"Edward, I swear...you're one of the handful of people I can really trust around here." Sunre told her imperial ambassador once they were far enough away from the council chambers, heading toward the kitchens. It was true, the older man was one of the few courtiers who didn't treat her like a child and who seemed to respect her actual authority instead of just pandering to her. Ever since she became empress, she didn't have many friends but Edward was one of the few friends she had...almost like a father figure ever since her own passed away. "I would love to join you for breakfast, Marseille produces some of the finest tea in the world. However, I maintain our chocolate is far superior in quality." she winked playfully at him. "Speaking of Marseille, how did things go on your trip there? I'm absolutely dying to know." She explained to the kitchen staff what she wanted served and went to go sit at her private table in her drawing room, beckoning Edward to join her.

Dea meanwhile was moving on to another seal that she had seen...and the runes that were around it, no wonder nobody else could decipher it. "It's written in Infernal, because of course it is. I wonder what this was meant to summon or seal away." Just then, she heard a knock on her door and used her tail to turn the knob, once it was open she turned to see her visitor and gave a small smile when she recognized who it was. Karl Hart was a mutual friend of herself and Queen Tali, an excellent soldier and her on-and-off lover. She felt comfortable around him, they could joke around and laugh and talk about things...they had a lot in common. They had the same sense of humor almost, they liked to walk on the wild side although she was a bit miffed about him wanting to keep her a secret. While she understood the fear, she was tired of men and women seeing her as some shameful sin to be hidden away, and she had told her brother, a fellow knight of Orias as much in the recent letter she sent him. He offered to come back from the front just to beat Karl up, and while she told him not to do that, one could never be too sure about Baron. She wouldn't be surprised if he did decide to pop up. "So, you decided not to be a stranger after all...how very kind." she quipped, smiling a bit wider. "It was getting a little boring up here, how are things down on the ground?"

[Tomia]

Edward
"Well your majesty, my father used to say that the Palace is just a battlefield where the soldiers where robes and dresses instead of armor. But you handle yourself well, and I am honored to have your trust." He said as they continued their way towards the kitchen. He chuckled at her comment about chocolate. "I must agree your majesty. I do very much enjoy our chocolate. And my trip was wonderful your majesty, thank you for asking. Marseille is a beautiful place. The state of their court is... well let's say it is fairly hectic. I am a bit concerned for their stability but ultimately I do not believe they are a threat to us, they have far too many internal troubles to deal with at the moment. I also managed to visit a new museum that opened in the city recently. I must say, the artists of Marseille are creative souls."

Edward joined the Empress at her behest at her table as the staff began to serve breakfast, including the tea Edward had provided. "If I may your majesty, there is something I wish to discuss. I'm concerned with the growing instability across the continent. Termain is killing itself in a civil war, Maresille is in an internal power struggle, and I worry the chaos may expand to the other countries as well. Others clearly think more weapons and soldiers are the response. But I think we can take a different route. With the larger kingdoms in turmoil I believe we can step forward as a new leader among the kingdoms, not only for our own interests but to promote peace and stability."

Karl
He smiled in return at Dea's remark. "Well, I am knight after all, I live to serve, especially when its a beautiful noble lady." He quipped back with a smile before she turned to the question of how things were in the palace. He took a seat in a nearby chair "It's fine, well fine as it can be these days. Some bastards in our army burned down a village on the front lines. Tali saw them punished and village compensated, but... this war is wearing on her Dea. It's wearing on us all." He said sighing as he rubbed his face tiredly. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to come here and be gloomy. What have you been working on? It looks interesting and... complicated."

[Of the Quendi]

Flavinian II Paralian, King of All the Massalians

"No, no no! Goodness no Your Majesty. A King? Charging at the head of an army against enemy lines? What a thought. No, Your Majesty. That is most certainly not the role of the King."

Flavinian II looked on with mild curiosity as Grand Royal Tutor Nepinian aggressively stalked the royal apartment at the Great Library. The Grand Royal Tutor, one of the foremost scholars at the Library had a large bushy all white eyebrows that where extraordinarily expressive. Watching them go up and down, furrow and unfurrow was like witnessing some coded language. The choleric disposition of the Grand Royal Tutor and his notorious excess of yellow bile could on occasion be scary, but there was also something mirth-provoking about it.

The Grand Royal Tutor shook his head in frustration. "Charging? Charging! No, no, no!" He growled, more to himself than to Flavinian as he paced the royal apartment. The young king grimaced. The answer to the question; "what is the purpose of the king" was hardly a difficult one, after all all his lessons was intended to teach him that, and so it was embarrassing to get it wrong.

The Grand Royal Tutor, exhausting his frustration turned and stared down at his royal student. "Your Majesty." The Grand Royal Tutor sighed. "In savage foreign lands, no doubt they elect their king the way they elect their war chiefs. They pick the biggest, meanest and most barbaric warrior they can find and put him on a horse to lead them on a drunken chevauchée against their foes. But in Marseille? The thought is absurd Your Majesty. The King of All the Massalians have " The Grand Royal Tutor explained.

Flavinian grimaced and blushed. Yet even though he knew he was in the wrong he couldn't help but retort. "I thought Petronian the Great lead the Royal Navy in the assault on Genesia, and later was in command of the army that crossed the Rhenube." Flavinian complained. The Grand Royal Tutor's pacing stopped and he looked down at his royal charge with a curious look. Then, stroking his white beard ponderously his steely gaze softened, the way Flavinian II had learned it did when he thought his student had said something clever. A rare occurrence in other words.

"Your Majesty is quite right." The Grand Royal Tutor. "Your Majesty's illustrious ancestor Petronian I Paralian, by his people called the Great, first and paramount King of All the Massalians did indeed on occasions in his long and glorious reign command both the King's armies and fleets. But he was no savage warlord. In most of these encounters he was with his generals, or admirals, some ways away from the actual battlefield. Not charging anywhere."

Flavinian was about to object but the Grand Royal Tutor shook his head. "In MOST of these encounters, I said Your Majesty. It is true that Petronian did once or twice during his reign personally face enemy forces. But this is hardly his most admirable decisions. Yet it may have been justified by a principle of kingship that, if Your Majesty studies hard, we may get to later this week. But if so we really must move on from this silly discussion." The Grand Royal Tutor spoke.

The Grand Royal Tutor, having exhausted his anger and frustration walked back to his chair and sat down next to Flavinian. He was not a tall man and when he sat next to Flavinian there was not much difference between their heights. "So." The Grand Royal Tutor said with a smile. "What is the purpose of kingship, Your Majesty." He asked, before waving his hand dismissively. "And I don't ask what the role of the king is at war, please put aside any thoughts on this somber endeavor of kings and turn to the more general question, Your Majesty. So, what is the answer that we seek, Your Majesty? What does the Law say? What does the Great Philosopher say, hm?"

That question was so leading that almost anyone could have answered it. Everyone loved to quote the Great Philosopher. Even father appreciated him, and father never appreciated the Paralian masters. Flavinian, who knew all the maxims of the Great Philosopher, knew this one at heart. "The Great Philospher has said ..." Flavinian began, speaking in the strange declaratory tone that the academicians always used when quoting their favorite maxims. "The Enlightened Sovereign must be anything but an arbitrary despot. For by a despot we mean a tyrant who follows all his impulses, whims and passions. Once the governance of the state is established, the Enlightened Sovereign, must not interfere with their workings. He may employ the whole of his government to achieve his foreign and domestic objectives, but to do so he must not interrupt the impersonal workings of the state. He must always maintain an iron wall between his personal self and his public role. Family, friends and flatterers must have no influence on the course of policy, and he must always suspect the motives of those who surround him." Flavinian said.

"Precisely!" The Grand Royal Tutor exclaimed. "And accurate almost word for word, very good Your Majesty, very very good!" The man declared smilingly. "There you have it, Your Majesty, the words of the Great Philosopher are wise and true. No wonder the Paralian emperors of yore valued him so and made his principles their own to the betterment of us all. So; if to be enlightened is to not be arbitrary what then does it mean to be arbitrary?" Asked the Grand Royal Tutor.

Without hesitation Flavinian replied; "To not follow ones impulses, whims and passions."

The Grand Royal Tutor looked annoyed, his eyebrows disappearing up into his hairline. "Yes, yes, Your Majesty just said so, but what does that mean. Come now My King. Elaborate, illucidate." The Grand Royal Tutor said.

Flavinian pondered the question for a moment. "To be arbitrary ..." The young king began. "Is to make decisions ... That are based not on reason or logic ... But on random and personal preferences. That is ... To allow oneself to be guided not by what is right for the state but on what ones whims, passions and impulses compels one to do. Is that not so?" Flavinian proposed.

The Grand Royal Tutor nodded enthusiastically. "Yes Your Majesty, you are quite right. Arbitrarity is the greatest of royal vices. Marseille has had kings and princes who where gluttonous, who where lustful, who where indolent without ever damaging the workings of the state. But when we have had rulers that did not understand the difference between their own arbitrary wants and the interests of the state they lead then our country has suffered grievously." Said the Grand Royal Tutor. "The King that can separate his personal and his public function may be the most debauched and unseemly villain in his private life yet can still be a quite adequate sovereign. Beware therefore Your Majesty to always keep your private and public functions separate." The Grand Royal Tutor pontificated.

Flavinian nodded dutifully at the lesson but a wrinkle appeared on his forehead as he struggled with a seeming flaw in the idea. "But it is not possible." The king quietly whispered.

The Grand Royal Tutor heard it. "What is that, Your Majesty?" He begged.

Flavinian looked at his tutor's expressive eyebrows, pondering if he could get out of repeating a criticism of the Great Philosopher and no doubt be punished for it. But some part of him also felt rebellious. Maybe not everything the Great Philosopher ever said or did was mana from Heaven. Petulantly the king spoke. "But how can one possibly keep ones personal and public functions entirely separate. We are one person, not two. Even if We never allow Our whims to influence Our policy are We not still bound to interpret the information We use to make decisions, or the often competing and contradictory interests of the state, through Our own personal preferences or ideas?" Flavinian asked, fully expecting to for the whipping boy to receive a beating on his behalf for his impertinence.

Instead, looking up at the Grand Royal Tutor's white bushy eyebrows, these usually so expressive semaphores of sentiments seemed unreadable. Looking further down into the Grand Royal Tutor's eyes Flavinian saw a look he had not seen before. It was ... Contemplative. And maybe there was even a glimmer of something that could be considered ... Respect, to be seen in them. The Grand Royal Tutor nodded his head slowly, stunning Flavinian.

"Can we keep our personal and public function entirely separate? What an interesting question. Very good Your Majesty." The Grand Royal Tutor spoke. "Very, very good." He added ponderously, before falling quiet. Flavinian was stunned. The Grand Royal Tutor was never quiet. Never. The man sighed. "The short answer is of course no we cannot. Your Majesty has very perceptively identified the fatal flaw in the Great Philosopher's teaching, the personal bias problem to use the proper terminology. Even the gods are flawed and even the most Enlightened Sovereign is only a man, subject to all the flawed arbitrary biases of a such." The Grand Royal Tutor conceded. He looked at his student and smiled faintly. "Well then Your Majesty, what is the solution? How does the Enlightened Sovereign compensate for his own flawed nature, his inability to separate himself fully from his personal self in the conduct of his Kingship?" The Grand Royal Tutor asked.

Flavinian was taken back by surprising reaction of the Grand Royal Tutor to Flavinian's criticism of the Great Philosopher and had not anticipated a question. Apparently he had done nothing wrong and maybe even something right. The young king pondered the question. How to compensate for the personal self? It seemed an irresolvable paradox. Unless. Flavinian cleared his throat nervously. "Logic?" He cautiously suggested.

For a moment the eyebrows did not react. Then the Grand Royal Tutor slapped his own thigh, sending a jolt of fright through Flavinian's body. "Logic!" The Grand Royal Tutor exclaimed. He stood up from his chair. "Excellent Your Majesty, it seems we are finally getting somewhere. I have had my doubts I must confess, but better late than never. Logic! Yes indeed. Now perhaps Your Majesty understands why Tutor Arminian has devoted so much study to this most worthy subject. But tell me know Your Majesty how can logic help us to counteract the self?" The Grand Royal Tutor demanded.

Flavinian, confused and perplexed, had to think for a moment before he found the answer to the strange question being asked of him. This lesson was growing very strange very rapidly. "Logic ..." He began. "Logic can counteract the self because ... Logic is ... Unbiased? Is that the word? If two people are given the same assumptions we must expect them to reach the same conclusion. Their separate personhood won't lead them to separate conclusions." Flavinian suggested, quite intrigued by the idea.

The Grand Royal Tutor practically jumped in his enthusiasm his eyebrows wildly gesticulating. "Indeed Your Majesty. But now think, is logic the only recourse for an Enlightened Sovereign to avoid the problem of bias. After all as you know logic works best in the abstract and the King's work is rarely that. What other remedies do we have against arbitrariness?" The Grand Royal Tutor asked.

Flavinian pondered it for a moment. He thought back on his many many prior lessons suspecting that if logical reasoning which he had studied so intensely was one answer then perhaps there where other answers to be had in past lessons. "Precedent." The young king finally suggested.

The Grand Royal Tutor smiled. "Just so Your Majesty. The precedent of kings or princes or emperors past is always the first and most important source a king must consult when making a decision. For from the past, and the lessons we may learn from it we can find answers to how to behave in the future. What else?" The Grand Royal Tutor said.

"Law?" Flavinian proposed, thinking that when precedent was so well received an answer than surely law, which both the Grand Royal Tutor and the Great Philosopher had such a preference for would work even better. But the eyebrows of the Grand Royal Tutor furrowed in the way Flavinian could instantly recognize as being displeasure.

"Go on." The Grand Royal Tutor demanded.

Flavinian silently sighed. Then he pondered the question for a moment before trying to explain. "The law ... It is impersonal, it is established by the Council decisions, by precedent and the by the rulings of the judges and by the interpretation of the laws of the gods ..." Flavinian began desperately trying to figure out how to justify his answer. "So ... The law teaches us how to structure our society and from that we can learn ... How best to organize ... Our society?" Flavinian proposed.

The eyebrows were not impressed. "Lets move on." The Grand Royal Tutor said.

Flavinian blushed. He thought hard on something to say. Then it hit him. "Once the governance is established." He whispered. He looked back at the Grand Royal Tutor, knowing a winning answer when it came to him from the maxims of the Great Philosopher. "The government!" Flavinian exclaimed. "When the Enlightened Sovereign has established a good government he must rely on its counsel and depend on its ability to govern in his name." Flavinian said.

This time the eyebrows where impressed. The Grand Royal Tutor smiled. "Very good, Your Majesty. Yes the government is no doubt the most important antidote to the bias of the Enlightened Sovereign. The functionaries of the government are taught about logic, law and imperial precedent. They are the repository of knowledge and enlightenment on which the Enlightened Sovereign relies. They also posses their own experience, and for a brief detour let me just mention to Your Majesty that the experience and learning of the Enlightened Sovereign makes for another key antidote to bias, and that it was the experience and proven capability of Petronian that made his decision to personally command armies acceptable, but that's for another lesson." The Grand Royal Tutor remarked.

"Yes truly." He continued. "Marseille has had great rulers and we have had horrible rulers, but for as long as we have had a strong and effective governing structure it has made little difference to us. That is what sets us apart from foreign lands, that is what foreign ambassadors can never understand about us. Our government can function in the absence of royal leadership, and our royal leadership is not the arbitrary whims of despots but is guided and shaped by reason and enlightenment. And that concludes todays lessons. Lord Uodalrich, Your Majesty's, lord father expects you in the small throne room at midday for the presentations of the ambassadors, and you must not be late." The Grand Royal Tutor said, bidding his student goodbye.

[Nuridia]

Edward
"Well your majesty, my father used to say that the Palace is just a battlefield where the soldiers where robes and dresses instead of armor. But you handle yourself well, and I am honored to have your trust." He said as they continued their way towards the kitchen. He chuckled at her comment about chocolate. "I must agree your majesty. I do very much enjoy our chocolate. And my trip was wonderful your majesty, thank you for asking. Marseille is a beautiful place. The state of their court is... well let's say it is fairly hectic. I am a bit concerned for their stability but ultimately I do not believe they are a threat to us, they have far too many internal troubles to deal with at the moment. I also managed to visit a new museum that opened in the city recently. I must say, the artists of Marseille are creative souls."

Edward joined the Empress at her behest at her table as the staff began to serve breakfast, including the tea Edward had provided. "If I may your majesty, there is something I wish to discuss. I'm concerned with the growing instability across the continent. Termain is killing itself in a civil war, Maresille is in an internal power struggle, and I worry the chaos may expand to the other countries as well. Others clearly think more weapons and soldiers are the response. But I think we can take a different route. With the larger kingdoms in turmoil I believe we can step forward as a new leader among the kingdoms, not only for our own interests but to promote peace and stability."

Karl
He smiled in return at Dea's remark. "Well, I am knight after all, I live to serve, especially when its a beautiful noble lady." He quipped back with a smile before she turned to the question of how things were in the palace. He took a seat in a nearby chair "It's fine, well fine as it can be these days. Some bastards in our army burned down a village on the front lines. Tali saw them punished and village compensated, but... this war is wearing on her Dea. It's wearing on us all." He said sighing as he rubbed his face tiredly. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to come here and be gloomy. What have you been working on? It looks interesting and... complicated."

"Your father certainly wasn't wrong in that regard." Sunre chuckled, taking a bite of her cheesy eggs as she sat back to listen to Edward's proposal. “You’re very right, there’s a lot of war that seems to be cropping up all over the place.” He then spoke about them being leaders among all the chaos, she was curious as to what he had meant. “I actually considered writing to the king of Marseille, but as he’s in the middle of his own troubles and rumors swirl that hardly anyone ever sees him outside the palace, I don’t know what good that would do...I suggest staying neutral in the conflict, but at the same time we can’t just sit pretty until this shows up on our doors, if it does. What was your idea?”

Dea nodded when Karl spoke about the effects that the war was having on them all. "I know, I've had to lead my battle-mages through some heavy shit...we had two adepts nearly die in a skirmish, but they should be okay now. Plus my brother’s out there at the border right now.” She shivered slightly at the memory, curling in a bit on herself. She then heard Karl’s next sentence...”You’re telling me that we had our own forces attack innocent villages?! Yeah, that’s a way to instill confidence into our cause. Tali doesn’t need this, none of us do.” Karl then asked her what she was working on. “Oh, this? I believe this could probably turn the tide of the war in our favor...it’s a seal, some ancient and long-forgotten spell. By the looks of it, this spell is used to either bind or summon...its written in infernal runes so I can read it. However, I’m still not exactly sure what it does or what the after effects would be, Tali is already hesitant enough to use dark magic as it is but we’re getting desperate here.”

[Tomia]

Edward
"What if, we brought leaders from all different countries together. Some kind of council? or maybe a fellowship? Regardless, we can be out in front of making connections with a whole generations of new leaders. If you take initiative, involve yourself with the rest of the world, we can not only assure peace but secure a critical role in that peace. Perhaps we start with Termain? This civil war of theirs is nasty business and it threatens to destabilize the world. If we ingratiate ourselves with one side and ensure their victory, we could have a stable partner for generations to come in building new global alliances." Edward said, pausing to take a sip of tea.

Karl
"Wow, turn the tide of the war?" Karl said, certainly interested in something that would end the war faster. "Well it sounds very complicated. But if anyone can figure it out its you Dea. But you're right, selling Tali on it might be more difficult." He said, rising from his chair. "Speaking of that, part of why I came up here is because I had a favor I wanted to ask of you. When I left Tali, she was in one of moods you know. The stare out the window no talking mood. She clearly didn't want me around, but I wanted to see if you could check on her. I think she could use the company." He asked her, pulling her into a soft embrace from behind. "And then... maybe I could come back later tonight?"

[Of the Quendi]

Statinian Aemilian Corvinian, Ambassador of the Massalians to Termain
The Massalian Embassy in the Termain capital of Tera

Ambassadors, to say nothing of diplomacy, was not a uniquely Massalian phenomenon even if it was invented by the Massalians. Over time the Massalian proclivity for stationing semi-permanent representatives of their state in foreign courts to represent the many commercial and political interests of their state abroad had been replicated by many of the great kingdoms and principalities of Paralia. Yet the foreign service of Marseille remained without a doubt the finest and most capable on the continent. Possessing some form of representation in almost every polity in the continent (and even some not on the continent) the Royal Chancellery received a continuous stream of reports from all corners of the world that made the Royal Court perhaps the most informed government on foreign affairs. In supporting key political priorities, usually related to commerce, of the state the diplomats that served abroad was considered some of the most important state officials in the Massalian kingdom.

None more so than the ambassador to Termain. Since at least the days of Petronian the Great, if not for quite a bit longer, the most important, most crucial posting a diplomat could achieve. Indeed the office was of such consequence that a full third of all chancellors appointed since the days of Cordulian the Golden, had held the position of ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary to the court of Termain before they received the appointment. For this reason alone the posting was more coveted than any other.

The reason for the outside importance of Termain in the complex hierarchy of the chancellery was obvious. The affairs of that kingdom impacted Marseille in ways the affairs of lesser kingdoms simply did not. Termain, or rather its southernmost province of Orias, was not only the most important trading partner of Marseille it was also its most dangerous rival. A trading and seafaring nation Orias wielded a dagger against the heart of Marseille's wealth and power, its commerce, and it was the foremost role of the ambassador of the Massalians to ensure that no Termain king would ever attempt to wield that dagger.

In ordinary times the Massalian ambassadors could manage this, especially when a king from Orias was on the throne. Those, generally, was sensible leaders not about to disrupt the commercial relations between their home province and Marseille. The Torian kings, well that was a different story. When a Torian had ruled Termain the ambassadors had sometimes failed in their task and great destruction had been wrought to the trade of Marseille. For that reason alone the preference of the Massalians was always towards an Orian king.

Or rather, their preference was for an Orian king, when a such could maintain the peace in Termain. The present unfortunate circumstances in Termain where not at all pleasing to the Massalian ambassador. Statinian Aemilian Corvinian had spent twelve years in Tera and he fancied himself very knowledgable of the affairs of the kingdom he was in. His appreciation of the late king Oda, and Massalian sympathy for Orias notwithstanding he found it increasingly difficult to sympathize with the court of the new queen Tali Adura. In the incomprehensible elective system of Termain Orias had received six votes to Tor's five, thus allowing Orias to impose rulers intolerable to Tor on a regular basis. Who would not rebel against such a system?

Yes, Statinian thought. The Torians had legitimate grievances with which the Massalians should sympathize. Of course if Tali Adura had been a strong ruler and could have suppressed the Torians the legitimacy of their grievances would have been irrelevant. Statinian would have had no compunctions about working with her if she could impose her will on Tor. But as she could not Statinian had to think very carefully about how to handle the civil war ravaging Termain. Marseille could not afford to stand by and hope for the best. Whatever happened in Termain the interests of Marseille would have to be defended. If that meant supporting Tali Adura so be it. If it meant working with the Torians to destroy her so be that.

The ambassador, a large corpulent man with the height of a Paralhna and the weight of at least two ordinary man, stretched on his divan, his richly adorned silken robes caressing his bloated skin. Yes. It was right to send Clodinian Nero to Rodar. The Torians where no friends of Marseille but the famed Massalian diplomatic service did not simply station representatives at friendly courts, it stationed them anywhere. Why should Tor be any exception? Marseille had commercial interest there as much as in Orias or anywhere else. If the Torians succeed in their war it would not do to be without a representative there.

Confident in his decision, risky as it was, ambassador Statinian digged into the very generous breakfast served him by his servant listening only partially as his scribe read reports from the Teran court, more preoccupied with his honey-dipped fruit, his crêpe with sugar and his marzipan-laced pastries. An experienced foreign policy hand Statinian knew important intelligence from random information and knew that almost all the information the embassy gathered was in the later category.

So when he heard the news he immediately, with some displeasure, turned from his food to his scribe. "Battalion?" The ambassador interrupted the scribe's reading. "That sounds rather ... significant? An officers, in plural you say? It must be a sizable military formation, no?" Ambassador Statinian remarked, pondering what exactly a battalion was and how it compared to a Massalian century. The scribe nodded. "I think its a medium sized formation, Your Excellency. I can ask ..." The scribe began before being waved aside by the fat, honey greased hand of Ambassador Statinian. "Fool!" The ambassador exclaimed. "He isn't here. But I will talk to Crispinian about it later today, he will now what a battalion is." The ambassador declared. "Continue reading that report. From the top." The ambassador ordered.

Ambassador Statinian looked serious, nodding ponderously as he listened intently to the whole of the report being read again. A cynical smirk briefly graced his luscious lips at the words of Tali Adura was read out loud. She was a self-righteous one. In an older, more experienced and more capable ruler it could perhaps be an admirable trait, but in one so young Ambassador Stainian found it merely naive and imprudent. Licking his fingers clean of honey, marzipan and sugar the ambassador shook his head as his scribe finished the report. "Decimating your own officers at a time of war? This queen lacks wisdom. She would incapacitate a battalion and send the signal to her own soldiers that they can be killed for being too zealous in fighting her enemies when her very right to her throne is questioned? Does she think Tor, with its more formidable army, will tie the hands of its soldiers so?" Ambassador Statinian shook his head aghast that anyone would punish their own soldiers because some unimportant peasants got hurt.

The scribe looked at his vast master. "Would Your Excellency like us to ..." He began, being cut short by the ambassador: "Do something? No of course not. What could we do? Formally suggest to Queen Tali Adura that she should not undermine her own army while fighting Tor? She would never listened. Besides its hardly our concern." The ambassador said. He fell quiet for a moment pondering the implications of Tali Adura's actions. Would her army grow restive? Then her reign would not be long, and Marseille needed to be on the good side of whoever came after her. For a moment Statinian felt an uncharacteristic sympathy for the queen. To be so young, to have the responsibility for a great kingdom, and in times of war. Such a burden. The ambassador quickly discarded that feeling. Tali Adura chose to become Queen, not like His Majesty King Flavinian who had been chosen by others, she knew what she was getting herself into and she could blame no one else for her predicament. And it was not Statinian's job to try to preserve her reign when she herself seemed determined to handicap herself by undue compassion for her peasantry. The ambassador sighed pondering the situation for a moment. Then he had an idea. A dangerous idea. "This ... Axel, was it?" The ambassador said. "The soldier who spoke out against his Queen, what happened to him?" The ambassador asked.

The scribe looked uneasy. "Your Excellency?" He said. The ambassador grimaced, why was he always surrounded by useless people. "The soldier, Timinian. He didn't like the queen's decision. Maybe if some of our ... local contacts ... where to buy this man a drink, or several and have a chat with him about how he, and his friends, and their friends, feel about Tali Adura it might be most enlightening." The ambassador suggested. For a moment the scribe's expression was blank. Then he lit up. "Local contractors, Your Excellency. You mean ..." The scribe was, once more, cut of by his master before he could say a very bad word that should never be used in the Royal Diplomatic Corps of His Majesty's Government. Especially not when it was a very accurate description of the function of the individuals it referred to. "Local contractors, Timinian! LOCAL CONTRACTORS!" The ambassador insisted. "Ask them to talk a bit with this Axel fellow and find out where he stand. If there is discontentment among the soldiers with Tali Adura I want to know about it. But make sure they are discreet." The ambassador declared.

The scribe nodded. "I am sure this can be arranged, Your Excellency. Discreetly, Your Excellency." The scribe declared. "If the army is unhappy we will soon learn about it, then we can use it against Tali Adura." The scribe added. Ambassador Statinian threw a goblet at the scribe, missing by several meters. Statinian was not famed for his physical capabilities. "Fool!" He exclaimed. "Any information we uncover we will of course provide Tali Adura with so she may take her precautions." The ambassador declared.

The scribe looked confused, and ambassador Statinian felt an irresistible urge to throw something at the man again. "But I thought Your Excellency didn't like her." The scribe said. The ambassador rolled his eyes. "What in the name of all Gods does that have to do with anything." He said. "Look Timinian." He continued speaking as if to a dense child. "Someone is going to win this civil war Termain find itself in. Now I happen to think Tali Adura will loose her war, but who knows maybe she will pull of a miracle. In any case no matter who wins we must make sure that they feel indebted to His Majesty's Government. Tali Adura, the Torians, someone else entirely, we want all of them to think of us as their best friends and allies in this world, is that really so hard to understand." The ambassador said.

The scribe nodded dutifully, though the ambassador was far from sure that the idiot had understood something so simple that every fool in Marseille could have made sense of it. "And if." The ambassador added, almost as an afterthought. "If ultimately it turns out that the interests of Marseille are best served by taking a clear side in this conflict that is a decision to be made in Marseille by Lord Uodalrich and His Majesty's Government." The ambassador declared, his thoughts on the recent coded messages from the King's sire and how this information about the battalion was exactly the thing the Vicegerent would want to know about. "And the King's Majesty." The scribe declared. Ambassador Statinian, his thoughts interrupted, looked at the scribe for a moment. Then he shook his head. That man was so stupid he was a security risk. Flavinian II Paralian making decisions about anything more important than his own nap time was ludicrous beyond belief. His Majetsy's Government had nothing to do with His Majesty. Only two men mattered. Uodalrich and Audawakar. As Uodalrich's creature, Statinian knew he would need to do everything in his power to neutralize the threat posed by Audawakar if he was ever to become chancellor. Fortunately he had a plan. If only Clodinian Nero could execute it.

---

Nerian Clodinian Nero, extraordinary envoy of the Massalians to Tor
The City of Rodar in the Rebellious Provinces of Tor

Nerian Clodinian Nero was thirty four years old and had spent more than half his life in the armed forces. An aristocrat of Paralhna background he could have went straight from the military academy to the general staff, reaching high offices without ever setting foot on the battlefield. He had chosen not to. After the academy he had enlisted as Tesserario at Legio XII Burdigalania and served in the southwestern provinces, fighting to expand Royal control over the goldfields in Hisepa and defend the Imperial Highways allowing its transport to the capital. He had spent half his career there, advancing slowly but steadily until he commanded his own cohort. From there the jump to command a legion was almost impossible to make without serving time with auxiliaries, something Nerian had never wanted to. But to command a royal legion was his highest wish in this world. So when the opportunity to become military attache, one of the few pathways to high command that didn't involve the unseemly auxiliary regiments, opened up Nerian had taken it.

Thus far it had been dull beyond compare. Ambassador Corvinian was no doubt a competent diplomat but he was also a rather unpleasant man to work for and at Tera there was little work of any interest to do. Writing reports on the military training, equipment and praxis of Termain was a work that was as easy as it was boring.

The past month had however been ... Interesting. Traveling northwards from Tera towards the war zone of Tor, while avoiding detection by Orian troops who might quite reasonably consider Nerian and his men spies and hang them was a very different work from what Nerian had ever imagined he would do when he joined the Massalian embassy in faraway Termain. Traveling at night, resting by day. Avoiding the main roads and marching across rough terrain, only lightening fires when the cold grew desperate, always keeping a sword at the ready no matter who you encountered. It was something.

And it had paid off, the newly appointed special envoy thought, sighing as he looked down on Rodar, the capital of Tor and the centre of the rebellion against Queen Tali Adura. He had reached his destination. Now the question was whether it would be possible to get in touch with whoever lead the rebellion and establish a working leadership with him, or her, or them.

[Zjaum]

"Truth seven: The world is free."

A seventh man stepped forward, completing the set. The seven of the many Daskalarchs appointed for the ceremony were all intended to have long-lasting connections with the new High Daskalarch, to the point where he could call them all friends. Such was rote. However, Arkt had only proven exemplary leadership for the past three years. As a student, squire, and scribe, he had known the Order for perhaps a decade, but he had never had nearly enough interaction with them for them to consider him friend. In fact, it was only through a rather happenstance series of convenient deaths that brought him to this position at all. The plague seemed to sweep through most of the world, from what he'd heard of the ascension of the other young monarchs. Or it could, again, be an unhappy series of coincidences. Arkt contemplated as he knelt for the ceremony.

The Daskalarch representing the Fourth Truth stepped forward, separating himself from his comrades. This was the part of the ceremony where he was to give his personal thoughts on the matter. The rules regarding ascension merely said, "speech," without ample context, so historically Fourth-Truth people engaged in long tirades about the topic of the day. This time, Arkt was the topic of the day. Arkt had delivered papers for him during a meeting; that was how little connection he had with most. The Daskalarch cleared his throat. "In the three years in which Arkt has helped lead our Order, and the ten years in which Arkt helped run our Order, I have found him to be diligent. While he appears to desire this position, even he likely realizes that the path to this rank was purely circumstantial.

"Regardless, I have not found him wanting. He has not raised my suspicions, nor has he given me reason to believe that he will fail as a leader. I welcome him with open arms, for I know that, whether the Order will thrive or not, the Order will not fall under his leadership. I encourage my brothers beside me and the people beneath me to welcome him as well, under the same reasoning." The Daskalarch stepped back. It was a brief, and quite welcome speech. Arkt felt comforted by such loud words.

"All rise," said the Daskalarch of the First Truth. Arkt listened as the room in which he knelt rustled with the sound of a thousand people ascending, quietly, in unison. "On this glorious day, Arkt ascends to ruler above us all. He must earn our respect but will have our support. Arkt Stone-Melter, will you uphold the bylaws of our Order?"

"Until death."

"Will you seek out the meaning of the Seven Truths?"

"Until death."

"Will you find wisdom in others where you cannot find it in yourself?"

"Until death."

The ancient creeds of the Order had intended for a aesthetically complete set of three, but the added responsibilities of the Order had forced in a fourth question: "Will you protect the people placed by the Yet-Unknown under the care of the monastery?"

"Until death."

"Rise, Arkt Stone-Melter."

Arkt was the last in the room to stand. His knees hurt, but his legs were invigorated. He was now surrounded by the seven Daskalarchs. The Third Daskalarch now spoke. "By our authority, with the power of those around us, for the glory in the name of the Yet-Unknown, we ascend you to the rank of High Daskalarch. May your rule lead to newfound wisdom and honor." The Daskalarchs now knelt before him, as the call from the sergeant-at-arms rung out. "Hail to the Yet-Unknown!"

The room was filled with the voices of men, women, and children, a thousand strong, echoed by thousands more who heard the message in the streets below. Those behind him began to kneel. "Hail to the Yet-Unknown!"

"Hail to the Keyrit Order!"

"Hail to the Keyrit Order!"

"Hail to Arkt Stone-Melter!"

"Hail to Arkt Stone-Melter!"

Arkt was disturbed, as he presumed all High Daskalarchs were upon ascension. All those voices... rarely had he realized the sheer magnitude of his role, or of the responsibility he now carried. Still, he nodded. It was a joyous day. And he had quite a lot of work to do.


Arkt's new office, while much more lavish, was smaller than even his old office as Archivist. Granted, he didn't have to store half as many books in it, but still... It was a far cry from the great hall where he started his journey. While he had read up on current politics in his spare time, now his official job was to research current politics. He didn't have very long to polish his knowledge before his four requested diplomats arrived. They shuffled in, barely fitting inside the room. Arkt looked up from his work in what he hoped would be considered a power play. He began to outline his intentions. "We have managed to maintain the peace, but we are woefully behind on foreign relations. That is to be expected; our Order was never built with the intention of managing hundreds of thousands of people. However, diplomats are dancing around us. If we are ever to reclaim the borders of our Father Kingdom, then we must have allies."

Reclaiming the borders of the Father Kingdom was never a priority of the Order, nor was it even mentioned among the ranks of the Daskalarchs. Uneasy glances shifted between the Daskalarchs. They noticed that Arkt noticed. That, in Arkt's eyes, was enough to address the elephant in the room. He continued. "Tor is currently in the middle of an insurrection. In a civil war, the nation that can wield a larger economy more effectively will triumph. Tor has no economy. Orias does not seem to be able to wield it. As a result, we should prepare for any outcome. Karel, you will be my ambassador to Tor. Bring an accompaniment of exclusively men, at least as old as I am. Establish good relations with them, and treat them as an independent sovereign entity. You can take it so far as to call them the rightful rulers of Termain. So long as Orias doesn't know, we'll be fine.

"Daskalarch Korot, you will be the Order's envoy to Orias. You will do exact same, but for Orias. Oh, and you will have a mix of men and women in your convoy. You know what? Let's throw in some children as well. Tali seems like she prefers soft power; she should like the company of children.

"Daskalarch Retek, you will be moving to Marseille. Our Massalian overlords likely have an opinion on the issue; you are to collect it. If they don't have one, you are to create it. If the opinion is weak, you are to kindle it. If the public opinion is mixed, swing it in favor of Tor, and against Orias. Their economy may be stronger, but their geography makes a war easier. Congratulate the young monarch on his rise to power, and inform him of our new change in government.

"Daskalarch Tikro, you are going to Hedinbrog. I think one stable ally is a useful thing. The giants are powerful as a people, albethey weak as a government. Earn their trust. Yours will be the most difficult task, but I have faith in you."

Arkt's eyes returned to his studies. "I appreciate your prompt attendance. Dismissed."

[Nuridia]

Edward
"What if, we brought leaders from all different countries together. Some kind of council? or maybe a fellowship? Regardless, we can be out in front of making connections with a whole generations of new leaders. If you take initiative, involve yourself with the rest of the world, we can not only assure peace but secure a critical role in that peace. Perhaps we start with Termain? This civil war of theirs is nasty business and it threatens to destabilize the world. If we ingratiate ourselves with one side and ensure their victory, we could have a stable partner for generations to come in building new global alliances." Edward said, pausing to take a sip of tea.

Karl
"Wow, turn the tide of the war?" Karl said, certainly interested in something that would end the war faster. "Well it sounds very complicated. But if anyone can figure it out its you Dea. But you're right, selling Tali on it might be more difficult." He said, rising from his chair. "Speaking of that, part of why I came up here is because I had a favor I wanted to ask of you. When I left Tali, she was in one of moods you know. The stare out the window no talking mood. She clearly didn't want me around, but I wanted to see if you could check on her. I think she could use the company." He asked her, pulling her into a soft embrace from behind. "And then... maybe I could come back later tonight?"

“I have to agree...right now, all the big leaders are going to be swarming over the dying husk of Termain like flies. The new queen doesn’t have much support, but she’s ambitious and has vision. She wants to bring equality, she seems to care about her people, but the thing is if we’re going to do this then we have to make sure we have some shot because Marseille and everybody else wants to dip their grubby little hands into that pot. They’ll pounce like lions, they’re surrounded by all sides but the thing is, I’m not so sure if the reward is worth the risk right now. Can we really afford to get in a possible five way or more war right now, Edward? Do I really want to drag my country into that, because you know all the powers with interests in Termain will form together like building blocks to rip any interlopers to shreds even if they don’t like each other. Sounds messy.”

Dea heard Karl’s words of encouragement and grinned at him. “I thank you, my lion.” she winked, but then she heard him talk about Tali. Of course she was in a bad mood, poor girl was being besieged on all sides and could barely afford to trust anyone, not even their so-called “allies” because everyone was looking out for their own interests not giving a damn about her. It was shameful to bet on the loss of a whole people, but also sadly understandable...this was the dog-eat-dog world of politics that they lived in. “Very well, I’ll go speak to her. As for coming back later...I dunno.
Maybe if I hear a good report on your progress today.” Dea disentangled herself from him and kissed his forehead before leaving the room, teleporting the way to outside of Tali’s door because she simply did not feel like walking down all those stairs. “I’m here to see the queen.” She told the guards, who looked at her somewhat nervously. “I don’t know, Lady Brightflame...the Queen is in quite a mood.”
“I know that, that’s why I’m here.” She knocked on the door herself. “Tali, it’s Dea...I’ve come to cut this moping session short...and I’ve got an idea that you might be interested in.

[Tomia]

Edward
"It is messy your majesty, but it will be messier still if this chaos is allowed to spill over into other countries. If the war drags on and sides are taken, the world would be plunged into war. But the conflict is still young, and from my understanding Tali has the upper hand at the moment. The rebels are disorganized and lacking resources. I understand your hesitancy to commit our troops to battle. But if we could offer enough support to end the war quickly, we not only would stop a great deal of bloodshed, but have one of the most powerful leaders in the world in our debt. There are risks your majesty, I cannot deny it. But these are risky times, and I would rather control our own fate than be under the control of others. But, I have spoken my mind your majesty, I will belabor the point no further." He said, taking a bite of toast and a sip of tea.

Tali
Tali got up from her seat and opened the door, seeing Dea outside her chamber. Dea was a close friend of hers, one of her few friends really. Dea spoke her mind to her and Tali found that refreshing. The court was filled with people who wanted to impress and placate her. Dea told Tali the truth and was even able to make her laugh occasionally.

"Come in Dea" She said simply as she opened the door and let her in before closing the door behind her. "Karl sent you I'm guessing. I could tell he was worried about me. I'm fine though Dea, really. You said you have an idea? What is it?"

[Of the Quendi]

Palace of the Council of the Spectre
The City and Kingdom of Marseille

The throne room in the Palace of the Council of the Spectre was, like most rooms in most palaces in Marseille's royal compound a grand chamber. The throne room was circular in shape made with a large dome painted to make an accurate depiction of the stars on a night sky raised a full twelve meters above the multicolored marble floor. Despite the circular shape of the room, designed to make the most eminent members of the Council of the Sceptre feel equal to one another, there was a clear centre of the room. The dais, an elevated marble podium the furthest away from the grand gilded double doors of the room, behind which the large stained glass windows through which most of the light in the room came, and on which the King's throne, a gilded chair, stood.

On the throne Flavinian II Paralian, King of All the Massalians sat. He was a handsome and serious looking child, tall for his age (or at least so a non Paralhina human would think) with the delicate features of his dynasty. He bore the distinctive imperial robes. A loros and pallium robe made all in the finest tyrian purple and cloth-of-gold silk, heavily embroidered with gemstones of the finest quality and with the occasional enameled plaque sewn into the attire. On the King's head rested a grand golden crown beset with jewelry. The crown was an octagonal hoop crown, with a single arch and mitre dominated by eight plates depicting scenes of significance to the Paralian Empire of old. The colored light cast through the stained glass windows all strategically landed on the King's Majesty and the jewelry and gold with which he was adorned reflected the light into the throne room as if the King was himself emitting light. Everything about the setting was designed to convey the sense that the King was not just a temporal ruler but a god made flesh, and even for those who had seen it many times it was an impressive sight. And yet, as the ambassadors from foreign lands approached the throne to pay their respect they would find it difficult to overlook the fact that the feet of this god-king dangled an inch above the marble floor.

The occasion that had required such pomp and circumstances was the ceremony know as the Presentation of the Ambassadors. A somewhat important occasion that warranted more circumstance than the Chancellery Palace, where most diplomatic ceremonial took place, but did not quite deserve the full royal grandeur of the King's House Palace. On this occasion, held once annually, the Council of the Sceptre would invite all foreign ambassadors to Marseille to pay their respect to the King. During the reign of Flavinian II the ceremony had become popular with foreign ambassadors who only had three occasions to meet the King in any official capacity, their accreditation audience, their farewell audience and this annual ceremony. Most ambassadors did not care to spend their entire tenure in Marseille meeting its ruler only upon arrival and upon departure and so the ceremony was well attended.

The ambassadors defiled, one after another through the throne room, past the lines of Councilors, to pay their respects to the King. Some ambassadors, canny observers of Massalian court life, all but prostrated themselves before the King, consistently calling him "Your Imperial Majesty" not, as official protocol dictated; "Your Majesty" or "Your Royal Majesty". The Massalians officials and diplomats were a hard-nosed and cynical population yet they where receptive to flattery and kept as meticulous note of who flattered them as they did who owed them money. Many ambassadors also insisted on presenting the King with various gifts. This was a a risk free way of getting some more time with the King as the Massalians would never allow themselves to receive a gift without giving a gift of higher quality back. Of course some ambassadors thought these games demeaning to their own countries or simply failed to understand them and so did not engage in them at all.

But it was when the ambassadors was done talking with the King's Majesty that you learned which ones was worth paying attention too and which was amateurs. Some ambassadors simply left the throne room (and in their defense, protocol did technically mandate such action) while others decided to converse some members of the Council of the Spectre before departing. One member in particular.

For all the imperial pomp of the King's Majesty it was a man standing to the right of the royal dais, the first in the line of Councilors lining the walls of the hall, who was the true centre of the room. His garbs was simple, perhaps the simplest of any of the men in the room, for he needed none to stand out. In the fourteenth year of his son's life Uodalrich the Northman was forty three years old and at the height of his power. A quarter of a century has passed since he came to Marseille from Tor with nothing but his sword and a distant kinship with the Paralian dynasty and in the twelfth year of his son's reign he was at the height of his power, Vicegerent of the Kingdom and its de facto ruler, answerable only to his own wife and to a Council of the Spectre increasingly made up of his own allies. His dark hair and beard, both of which he kept in a style more northern than Massalian, had started to grey yet his hands still grasped the hilt of a sword as well as ever and a keen and determined mind could be discerned from gazing into his steely grey eyes. It was towards this man, not his son, that every Councilor in the throne room looked, and which many an ambassador approached to pay a respect no less fawning than the one they showed the son. Yet with Uodalrich it was not simple pleasantries about the weather or the King's Majesty's studies that was discussed. Here the future of empires was debated, here the fate of the whole of the continent was discussed. Nothing more so than Termain, the long abandoned homeland to which the Vicegerent's mind was increasingly turned.

Attended by his long time associate, the elderly statesmen, Chancellor Anderinian Cornelio Albus, the Vicegerent eagerly solicited the opinions of the ambassadors that had the sense to approach him on the situation in Termain. While not without diplomatic sense and tact the Vicegerent was rather more forthright in these solicitations than his chancellor or the chancellery might have been, providing the ambassadors with insight into the importance the Vicegerent attributed to the situation in Termain.

The Vicegerent eyed the defile of ambassadors approaching the King's Majesty with cold determination in his steel grey eyes, weighing them, weighing their kingdoms, considering, calculating, pondering. The man who had held the reins of the state for twelve years, longer than any successor of Petronian the Great, was not known for his compassion or sentiment, but for his calculating cynicism and adamant desire for power, for himself, for his family, for his Kingdom. Yes, HIS, kingdom, and no one elses. The ambassadors, and the realms they represented, was judged solely on their usefulness to further Uodalrich's policies and naught else. The eyes of the Vicegerent fell upon one of the defiling ambassadors, a non-human, a gnome he believed. So the envoy of the Keyrit Order. That Massalian vassal state's territory bordered Termain. It should be interesting to hear what they fought of the war on their border.

[Zjaum]

Palace of the Council of the Spectre
The City and Kingdom of Marseille

Koy had reached the palace just as his counterpart had decided to leave. His steed was tired, and he dismounted, with no less aura of haste. He had been tasked by High Daskalarch Stone-Melter to court the king with hyper-specific instructions. Foremost among them was "Do not be late to the Presentation of the Ambassadors." He had already failed in his task. His counterpart had gone in his stead, from what he heard of the city guard. The counterpart, inherited from Kokua's predecessor, had introduced himself and promptly left to get a quick lunch. The Keyrit had never been particularly active with their overlords, but a new Order was on the rise. Koy trotted to the wizened ambassador. "I have ridden for two days. Tell me you were able to present to the king."

The old man looked down at the gnome. "Well, it was just a flourish and a 'Your Majesty.' Nothing fancy, why do you ask?"

Koy didn't bother to reprimand his incumbent but simply continued his trot past him. He had no time to argue. Perhaps he could still attend the event with some semblance of dignity. He handed his horse off to palace staff before entering in. Perhaps his predecessor had such a little impact that they had glossed over his presence. Koy was not the last in line, but he was quite closer to the end. Much too late to make a good impression. He had not missed the event in its entirety, however. Indeed, there were a select few ambassadors still in the room, conversing with the true power in Marseille. Koy looked to the king, then back to the man who controlled him. Arkt had mentioned this. If a rift could be formed between student and master, then exploit it. He would need more information. Until then, he would stick to the script. He approached the Vicegerent. Hand shakes were too inconvenient with height disparities, so he saluted. Another of Arkt's imperatives: do not discuss the war while Orias, Tor, and potential allies were still around. Koy spoke in a dull roar. "It is much too public to discuss matters of interest, but the foyer of our private residence is always available for talks."

He bowed curtly. Gnomes in Marseille would have indicated the Keyrit region. There were few other large concentrations in the kingdom, and none nearly as public. The Vicegerent would know that. Koy could tell from the man's countenance. The gnome made a brief nod. "Sir." He went on to resume diplomacy with the man's peers. An insider in one of the Council was useful. Insiders in the whole Council was another boon entirely.

Koy left the throne room to meet a casual collection of consuls, and the frazzled old man he had interrogated earlier. "I came back. What's going on? I'd already met with His Highness."

Formalities were over. Frankness was permitted to blossom. "I have fresh orders from the Order. I am replacing you."

"But... What will I...?"

"You are free to stay, even to maintain your current lifestyle. Extravagant as it is, you can consider it retirement benefits for your service."

"I don't think the house would be able to fit both of us."

Koy tilted his head. He had already said to his predecessor everything that Arkt had told him to say, verbatim. Um... "I'm a gnome, sir. A doghouse would be sizable enough accommodations for me."

"Oh... All right, then."

Koy made another small bow and headed off to where his superior said his quarters would be. He would seek a personal meeting with the royal court tomorrow. After two days of riding, he certainly needed a bout of rest.


Tera, Orias, Termain

A ruckus ascended at the castle gates, by no means due to the guards. Alessa and her escort had made their way to the castle. They would normally have been given unbridled access inside, but Alessa's insistence to see the queen, enforced by the persnickety attitude of her aides, had raised the sentinels' attention. "I've told you several times before!" Alessa said. "We are representatives of the Keyrit Order, and we are-"

"And I've told you several times before, we have a Massalian delegation inside. If you are here to trade, then you can trade. But you cannot walk into the queen on demand!"

Alessa had given the appearance of being stubborn, but in reality she was merely repeating the opening lines that Arkt had provided to her, on repeat, nothing more. She wouldn't stand up to a peasant, let alone talk down a soldier like so under any other circumstances. "Just, take us to the queen or a representative who has royal attention."

[Nuridia]

Edward
"It is messy your majesty, but it will be messier still if this chaos is allowed to spill over into other countries. If the war drags on and sides are taken, the world would be plunged into war. But the conflict is still young, and from my understanding Tali has the upper hand at the moment. The rebels are disorganized and lacking resources. I understand your hesitancy to commit our troops to battle. But if we could offer enough support to end the war quickly, we not only would stop a great deal of bloodshed, but have one of the most powerful leaders in the world in our debt. There are risks your majesty, I cannot deny it. But these are risky times, and I would rather control our own fate than be under the control of others. But, I have spoken my mind your majesty, I will belabor the point no further." He said, taking a bite of toast and a sip of tea.

Tali
Tali got up from her seat and opened the door, seeing Dea outside her chamber. Dea was a close friend of hers, one of her few friends really. Dea spoke her mind to her and Tali found that refreshing. The court was filled with people who wanted to impress and placate her. Dea told Tali the truth and was even able to make her laugh occasionally.

"Come in Dea" She said simply as she opened the door and let her in before closing the door behind her. "Karl sent you I'm guessing. I could tell he was worried about me. I'm fine though Dea, really. You said you have an idea? What is it?"

"Well, this war has been dragging on for quite a while...but I think that I've finally figured out a way to end it." Dea turned to Tali and pulled out her grimoire. "I've been researching new spells, and found one that may actually turn this thing in our favor. I haven't uncovered everything I wanted to about it yet, but I'm getting close.” She was hesitant to tell her about the part that Tali would definitely dislike...this was of the darkest magicks, something her hellish ancestors would wield without a second thought. And she had no way of knowing the side effects.

“Very well Edward, I shall think of your proposal. You are right, but yet I’m wondering if this risk is something I can afford to take.” Moments like these very much reminded Sunre that she was just a kid...and a very young one at that, having to take up the mantle of rulership far too early.