The Old and the New (Meridia)

[Taledonia]

"Margrave Sigismund?"

The rider was a vision of Taledonia's future. He did not wear shining plate, but his hessian boots shone just as brightly. Gone was the arming sword, replaced with a cavalry sabre whose gilded hilt hung by a black leather belt set against the fine grey of his officers tunic; gold buttons joined by gold lace that ran across his breast. His dark hair, pomaded to a lustrous sheen, played host to a grey bicorn edged with blue piping and worn fore-and-aft. His companions, equally well dressed but whose mounts were not the equal of the fine brown beast their leader rode, pulled up a small distance behind, while their commander rode forward at an easy trot to sweep off his hat in a salute.

"How do you do, Sir? My name is Captain Wulthrum Brampton, of His Majesty's Royal Household Guard. I have the honour to welcome you to the capital. May I escort you and your men, my lord?"

[Rezua]

Aventalis,
Aventan

Praying did not grant her powers. It did not ensure that she would always be safe. But it was right. Averentus had saved her people from the Drowning centuries ago. Or rather, he'd saved them from themselves. Still, when their city fell into the sea, the Shadow still found them. Viratha might love and respect her god, but she knew the old sea god wasn't omnipotent. He'd told her so himself.

It was a confusing paradox to the princess. Sometimes, she could hear the very voice of Averentus. He was old and tired. Most of the time, he simply whispered a simple request, "Listen", "Pray". Other times, he said something seemingly important. Two months ago, he had repeated another message to her, "I'm sorry".

Princess Viratha did not feel his presence today and swam back from her window. She prayed each morning, like Elder Cleric Tesei had instructed her. Tesei was old, nearing the end of his life, with grey hairs and a weak voice to match it. Yet, he was still regarded as one of the sharpest minds in all Aventan and was well respected. He was also one of the only people who didn't think Viratha heard voices in her head. After all, claiming to hear a distant or even dead god was rather hard to believe.

With a sigh, she left her window and straightened up her room, following her age old tradition for mornings. Dress, pray, straighten up. Like most aventi, she liked to have some control in her life. The princess left her room and swam towards the Royal Meeting Hall. Her father, King Ralim, had called his most trusted friends and advisors to speak with him about a very important matter today. Apparently, it had something to do with them Kingdom of Taledonia.

When she reached the meeting hall, she was met by another aventi women wearing the shiny armor of a Coral Knight. These warriors were sworn to protect Aventan from corruption and from invasion, often taking holy vows to do so. They treated in undersea and surface combat, mastering the trident, longsword, aquatic bow, and longbow. Most of them rode horses and dolphins well, some also treated to channel what little magic they had to help them strengthen their muscles to aid them in battle, if only for a few seconds.

The princess lowered her head in respect for this knight. "Hello Shandas." she said. The knight smiled "Morning little sister. Gyenti just returned this morning, I assume he's to blame for this spectacle." Their brother, Prince Gyenti, was second in line for the throne under their eldest brother, Prince Astilmon. Astilmon was a skilled fighter and politician, often helping his father rule. Gyenti...well...Gyenti was Gyenti. Where Astilmon was stern, cool-headed, and patient, Gyenti was carefree and rash. Astilmon could be counted on to see a job through. If this job didn't have women or adventure, Gyenti was happy to let his older brother handle it.

Similarly, Gyenti was Shandas' twin but was her opposite in most cases. She was on time and humble, Gyenti took liberties with royal distresses. Once he called the Coral Knights when he lost his clothes in some brothel. Most thought he was a fool, but they did not think him a rude or dangerous one. Gyenti was a kind soul, if a bit of a drama lover. Viratha loved him, he was just want her people needed. Gyenti cared less for honor and humility perfection than most, but he was fiercely loyal to his family and to being chivalrous to all people. Sure, he could be downright insufferable sometimes, but at least he still cared for everyone.

Not wishing to get into another Gyenti debate, Viratha only smiled at Shandas and continued onwards after her older sister. Shandas was the odd ball daugther. Viratha was the cleric, the holy daughter who prayed daily and cared for orphans in her spare time. And Shandas was the one who hit stuff with a lance. Certainly not improper in Aventan but it was strange nevertheless. And she was as prickly and uptight as the armor she wore.

Just before entering, Shandas peeked her head in to get a better look at who was present. Her father was easy to spot, the light brown hair and tired brows screamed about kingly duty. Beside him were several lords and military commanders. Very important people. "I swear, if Gyenti is busting on us again, I'll make sure he never goes whoring again." Shandas muttered "Maybe then he'll learn what happens when he wastes our time."

The two sisters entered the room and took their places by King Ralim. First came Astilmon, then Shandas, followed by Gyenti, Viratha, and their younger siblings. Gyenti's seat was empty today but Viratha did not take it. That would be improper. Several more lords and dignitaries came in before some started getting impatient. Prince Gyenti was still not present. Ten minutes later, the prince appeared.

"Terribly sorry" he said "I completely forgot that it was at this tim-" Before he could finish his elder brother cut him off "Just start." Prince Gyenti nodded and adjusted his garments to stall for words. Another moment later he started "So, while on my important meeting to see important leaders around the world, to help revive our economy, I heard unsettling news. The Kingdom of Taledonia is in civil war. Apparently, the crown prince was killed and now everyone's off their flippers. But what's worse-."

Prince Astilmon's face darkened "And why does that concern us, brother? We cannot afford to pay for a war. Our military is organized, well-equipped and well-trained but that will not do a damn because it cannot match the size of other nations, nor will our coffers be able to spit enough coin to keep them supplied beyond our borders. Why are you wasting our time with a fool's errand?" Gyenti was probably one of the only people Viratha knew who could hold eye contact with her older brother when he was angry with them. Gyenti smiled "Oh, I suppose that's all I had to say then." Astilmon waited several seconds, trying to read his brother. The smirk didn't go away. The eldest prince cursed, "By the Drowned City! Damn you Gyenti, out with it."

"From what I heard, spirits killed their crown prince."

The meeting hall went silent. The unsaid threat was bare enough for shivers to go down their spines. Spirits. The Shadow. Ever since the near loss of their magical talents, the aventi had grown to fear magic. They had once wielded it like a knight swings a sword, harnessed it like a sail captured the wind, and cherished it like a mother would her new born. Yet magic had lead them astray. It was not a toy, it was dangerous. The loss of their magic had once been seen as a curse, damnation. But in later generations, their limited magical aptitude had become more accepted. That is, until their old tormentors were mentioned. Had they had their magic then, had the Drowning not taken it within a generation, they might have fought on longer.

Grown men had a slight tremble as they moved stone tablets around, moving on benches uncomfortably. From among them, a sea elf swam up to the center of the room. Lord Steeltide. The elf was an ancient man, almost four hundred years old. He had been alive when the Shadow had ruled, had seen what they had done. The day they were gone, he had begun to rebuild. Though he was gnarled and twisted physically, magic ran in his veins. Magic not from Avetenus. Magic from somewhere else.

"Are you certain of this young prince?" he asked Gyenti. The prince's face became much more serious "Yes, my lord. Though some claim it was merely an assassination." The grey haired elf nodded "Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was not." He turned to face King Ralim "What say you, my king? What are we to do about this? When has it been in a spirit's hobby to murder a prince and destabilize a kingdom?" His words rang with terrifying truth. Had the foreign prince died by the hand of a rival? An accident with a spirit? Or was the spirit more scheming than that? Dark things had destroyed Avetan once before. And King Ralim wasn't taking chances.

"Son, do you swear by the Sea and Moon, that this could truly be real?" The king's words were a solemn challenge to give the truth. To be true and righteous. Even Gyenti respected that. "Yes, Father, some say spirits killed him. I was traveling the surface and heard it from some merchants who had left that kingdom." The old king nodded slowly "Then we must look into this. If one heir can be assassinated by spirits, we must prepare against them." A lord called out angrily "Do something? Against spirits? You can't kill them with gunpowder." All at once the lords began shouting at their king, at each other. Panic was slowly taking hold of the meeting hall, fear of the return of ancient evil. They were demanding that their heirs be protected, that their receive more guards for their baronies and holdings.

In this moment, Viratha spoke up "Perhaps we could try to find out the truth from Taledonia. Somewhere in their war, there must be someone who saw what happened, who knows the truth. We could find a way to stop the spirits or to put an end to whatever evil is happening in that land." She had hoped that this would comfort the lords, but she only succeeded in causing more of a stir. Amid this chaos Lord Trestin smashed his sword's hilt against his table to create a loud enough sound to get attention of the other lords. Trestin was tall aventi, with seaweed green eyes and hair so blonde it looked white. Dressed in an admiral's coat and sash, his presence helped to remind the others that Avetan had a military. "If these spirits are real, and that's a big if," he said "then we must punish Taledonia and make sure that whatever grief they gave these spirits is righted. We must be ready to act. My king, do something to protect your people! Give me leave to bombard their coastlines and bring them under our way. We do not offend spirits."

A small piece of Viratha grew angrily. Men like Trestin had used the might of the First Aventi Empire to justify their actions. She felt it necessary to add strongly "No but we did offend our own Creator." Trestin's eyes lit up with fury. "How dare you compare me to the Drowned Aventi! Are you going to pray to the voices in your head to drown me, princess? Just remember who keeps pampered pups like you safe! My navy, my men, my resolve, our willingness to fight! Women do not understand what men must do to protect them." Trestin seemed to be ready to keep going but Prince Astilmon raised his hand "Thank you, Lord Trestin, for expressing your opinion. You are a tactical man, a wise man who has kept our trade safe from piracy for years. Keep in mind that my sister is a cleric, a young woman trained to guide the hearts and minds of men. She is not deserving of your rebuke." Astilmon's statement was both an acknowledgement and also a rebuke. To clear that up more, he added "Also remember who will command the Coral Knights when I become king. Speaking ill of women would be unwise of you, my lord." Shandas looked in Trestin's direction, in response to her brother's words. Shandas had taken supreme command from Trestin. He lead the Navy but she commanded the Diver Core that helped boast the Navy's flexibility on land and under the waves.

Taking a moment to let the tension evaporate, Astilmon leaned in to his father, "My king, what do you think we should do?" The old man sat in silence, the weight of his kingly burden almost palpably weighing on his shoulders. Finally he said "We shall be ready for anything."

Avisport, The Coral Islands,
Avetan

The Shalarin was a ship built for speed. It was slender, with only twelve cannons in total. If someone judged it by cannons alone, they'd assume it was a weak vessel. Its strength came from its Dive Core. Aventi could breathe air and water equally. The Shalarin would circle another ship, trading shots, while releasing members of its crew into the waves. These soldiers would swim under the enemy ship and attack it from below, ripping holes into its underside.

Viratha stood on the deck with Shandas and Gyenti. It had been decided that risking Astilmon in a foreign land would be too dangerous, especially when King Ralim was expected to pass on within a few years. But since having royals would improve the importance of their requests, the others had been sent. Viratha was a charming girl, trained in diplomacy and finding peaceful solutions. Shandas would act as the commander of Viratha's bodyguards. And Gyenti came because he insisted that he had to be there. Shandas had not approved of this and had sternly warned him to keep his manhood in his pants until their mission was complete.

The sun was setting, but the aventi crew was getting ready to set sail. They had star charts to guide them and candles to read compasses to stay on course. Viratha looked down at the ring her father had given her before packing for the trip. It was silver, with a pearl in the center. He had handed it to her gently and said "This was once a common thing among our people. Now it is a whisper of a forgotten era. In your greatest time of need, think of the sea and the pearl will aid you." What that met, Viratha did not know. As the ship's anchor rose, Shandas grinned "I was beginning to miss the sea. Land is so...dry." With that, she jumped overboard to mount her dolphin steed, acting as an escort to the ship. Gyenti shook his head "And I'm the weird sibling? She's way too crazy for that dolphin." Viratha grinned at her brother's lewd joke and quipped "And I bet you still claim that lady of the evening moon was a mermaid." Gyenti's face went pink "It was a mermaid! I swear!" Viratha laughed and got ready for a long trip.

[A m e n r i a]

Captian Yudha kept a straight face whilst the younger soldier lowered his arm, an expression of guilt and humility on his face. The captain spoke again.

"The I see two options. Either we summon one of the spirits and ask them what happened, or we question the suspect. Neither will be easy, but which do you think would be more effective?"

[Taledonia]

"Both would be difficult," Cathbad stroked his chin in contemplation. "It would be easier to convince a goat off a mountain than gain access to his prison within the Temple. As to summoning spirits; a dangerous thing to do at any time. And then there is no guarantee that you will find one that had any involvement with this affair. No, it would not do. A moment, I beg."

The druid turned from them and marched off into the trees a small distance, muttering to himself some half-formed questions that died in the air after the "What if," "What about" or else only began well after the subject had been passed: "the stream?" "birds of a feather?" "moss or lichen?" Dissatisfied with most of what he was thinking, his head shook them away. "No no no, it wouldn't do at all." The old man paced back and forth, constantly hopping a fallen tree trunk on his path, which begged the question as to why he had chosen that particular spot to potter about.

Cathbad came to a halt, stood bolt upright, and turned to face his party. "Who amongst you is a virgin, and not by choice? Or, barring that, who has not mated in a considerable time? We require sexual frustration." He ran his eyes up and down each of them, judging them, trying to ascertain which one might be most suitable. "Come along now, which one is it?"

[A m e n r i a]

The Dwipantaran men looked at Cathbad with curiosity, as they were always more inquisitive than they are judgemental. Suddenly the druid asked a strange question, one that would offend someone if they were not in such a situation.

The soldiers looked at each other. Some shrugged, others showed their wedding rings, few even laughed. There was only one of them who seemed uneasy. The same young man who offered to use incense earlier.

It was not long before his companions pick up on his unpleasant feeling. The stag rider next to him nudged him forward, gesturing towards the druid.

"Uh..Um..Me. I'm unmarried and I..well..look, you get where I'm going, right?" Said the young man nervously. He was quite handsome, but it could be seen, if one was observant enough, that he wasn't much of a smooth talker. He wasn't rich either, nor the best warrior in the group.

[Taledonia]

The youth was pretty, sure, and young; a favoured combination for what the druid had in mind. "Very good," he declared, "And so with your Captain's permission, we shall set up camp a little ways from here. There is a particularly good spot not half an hour from here. Berries you could pick for days, and a prevailing wind that gently rustles the trees. You, however" he pointed a finger at the lad, "Will walk that way. In two or three miles you should come to where the stream takes a small tumble. It is a wonderful pool, and you are to strip and bathe in this pool. And you will stay in the water until I tell you otherwise, is that understood? Oh, and you shall have to leave your mount. You must be alone."

[A m e n r i a]

The Dwipantarans looked at each other in confusion, but they were all too aware of the strange things that inhabit the world. The captain nodded, just before the young one asked Cathbad a question. "Is everything going to be alright? I'm allowed to carry my gun, right?" Captain Yudha looked at him tried to help. "It's alright, we'll be close. Be brave, youngster, you're a soldier."

[Taledonia]

The sounds of night are often unsettling for those who travel alone. As the crackling of logs, sacrificed to create fire for the rest of the party, died away in the distance, the constant hum and chirping of crickets seemed to be magnified for the young Dwipantaran. Every step was an effort, the crunching of leaves and deadfall underfoot a constant source of dread as the youth tried to steel himself against the isolation and the task at hand. Incense, he cursed himself, Why did I have to open my mouth? It had certainly drawn attention to him, and then there was his...inexperience. Somewhere in the darkness an owl, as if privy to his thoughts, let out a string of hoots that sounded somewhat mocking. It laughed at him. It taunted his youth, his lack of experience, and the fact that he had been sent off. Alone. Into the blackness of this foreign wood. With foreign demons who were hungry for the blood of mortals, all rank be damned. God and Angel preserve me, he begged, as the sounds of the northern wood spoke out in the darkness.

For what seemed like hours did the young man trudge forward, steeling himself with every step forward, nervously gripping the butt of his pistol at his belt, and telling himself over and over that it was but a forest. Not unlike the jungles of his native land, that were dark even during the day, and were full of deadly creatures. This was nothing, and he decreed that he should have serenity, but there was a distinct feeling of unnerve within him that had grown with every pace forwards. He was alone. The tall pines oppressive about him and made sinister by their moonlight shadows. Every now and then there was the glint of light reflecting off the eyes of some creature that watched him. The shuffle of hooves, of paws. Rustling in the foliage on either side of him as he made his way. On and on, until he was prepared to scream, to pull his weapon and fire at the shadows about him. He spun about, his eyes betraying him, his imagination getting lost in the darkness and with it he lost his bearings. The moon was obstructed, there was no light, and what shapes of trees he could discern were lacking in any characteristics. Which way had he come? Which way was he to go? Despair took him. He had been entrusted by Captain Yudha to find out the truth of this matter, and he had failed. He would die in these Angel forsaken woods, and his soul would become the plaything of devils, and...

..and then there was a light. It was minuscule, and didn't amount to much more than a small stone, but it was bright. And then there was another, and another. They danced in the darkness, floating in the air like ethereal specters. An entire horde, it seemed, of floating lights in the darkness that beckoned him forwards. He followed them, and as he grew nearer their brilliance, he felt his worry fade away. He felt strength return to both his body and his soul, and he thanked Angel for the strength and serenity that He had bestowed. And as he followed the light, which his rational mind had made out to be fireflies, he became aware of the gurgling of a stream.

The youth did not know for how long he walked, but this last stretch felt like a dream. He felt light, and content. Happy, even, as he followed the mass of fireflies to a clearing where a small waterfall cascaded into a deep pool of water that glowed a phosphorescent green. With jubilation in his heart, the young man knew he had reached his destination, and that he was about to succeed in his task. The old man's instructions had been true and clear. Find the pool, and then bathe in it. With speed did he strip himself of his clothing, laying it with care on a fallen log not far from the bank, and with it his pistol. Gingerly sticking a toe into the water, he was surprised to find it warm, and so with youthful spirit he dove into the water and made for the middle with powerful strokes. There did he stop, lay flat on his back, and fell into a sort of relaxing trance as he looked up at the stars and the brilliance of the midnight sky.

"You're not of Noreia."

He did not know how long he had been asleep, but the words shook him out of his reverie so that he sank into the water and came up in an undignified display, gasping to clear the water out of his mouth. He looked about himself, and could not see anyone. Had he simply been dreaming?

"You should be more careful in such places."

He had certainly not dreamt that! The voice was soft, but carried authority. And certainly feminine. Modesty suddenly crept into the young man's mind, and his hands moved instinctively to cover his manhood, whilst his legs began carrying him in the direction of his clothing. But there she was, using his clothing as a cushion on the fallen log. Her hair was chestnut, her eyes wide and green, and her complexion milky with a spattering of freckles that gave her the appearance of a doe; a comparison made even more apt by the skirt of leaves she wore about her midriff, whilst her chest was left bare.

"Who are you?" demanded the Dwipantaran.

"You won't find them here," came the angelic reply.

"Find who?"

"You aren't looking for anyone."

"What? How would you know what I'm looking for?" he shouted, agitation growing within him as he was completely aware of his nakedness in the face of this girl. "I'm not looking for anyone!"

"I just said that."

"Give me my pants!"

"You're in water."

The Dwipantaran stuttered as he tried to give an argument, but failed. "They're water pants!"

"You're foolish," said the girl.

Now the youth was growing angry. "I am a soldier of Dwipantara, sent here by the Maharajah himself! I am not foolish!"

The girl raised an eyebrow, shifted her weight slightly to retrieve the boy's pants, and then threw them at him. They landed in the water with a splash, and were soaked through when the Dwipantaran finally saved them from being swept downstream. "They're all wet!" he shouted.

"I told you, you're in water."

"What do you want?" he snapped, buttoning his pants as best he could, but the fabric clung to his skin, and he slipped more than once and fell into the pool. "Why are you disturbing me? I'm on a very important mission!"

She nodded in agreement. "Yes, swimming is a valuable mission, to be sure. But you're in the wrong place for the truth you seek."

"Who are you?" he demanded again.

"There was an offer made. The Spirits took it."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The bargain was struck, and the realm is the price."

"You aren't making any sense, girl."

"And you are a fool."

"Say that again when I have my pistol!"

There was a splash as the pistol landed in the water, the powder inevitably wet and useless now. "You are a fool," the girl repeated.

"This is an outrage!" the man shouted.

"Amber binds them together. Look upon the Amber, and you will find what you seek."

The Dwipantaran had barely heard that last part, too busy was he attempting to clean the water and wet powder from his weapon. With annoyance, he spun to confront this strange girl. "I'll have you know that I'm no fo..."

She was gone. The log was bare of all but his remaining clothing. The fireflies were gone. The stream was suddenly cold, and the water no longer glowed.

[Camelone]

"Margrave Sigismund?"

The rider was a vision of Taledonia's future. He did not wear shining plate, but his hessian boots shone just as brightly. Gone was the arming sword, replaced with a cavalry sabre whose gilded hilt hung by a black leather belt set against the fine grey of his officers tunic; gold buttons joined by gold lace that ran across his breast. His dark hair, pomaded to a lustrous sheen, played host to a grey bicorn edged with blue piping and worn fore-and-aft. His companions, equally well dressed but whose mounts were not the equal of the fine brown beast their leader rode, pulled up a small distance behind, while their commander rode forward at an easy trot to sweep off his hat in a salute.

"How do you do, Sir? My name is Captain Wulthrum Brampton, of His Majesty's Royal Household Guard. I have the honour to welcome you to the capital. May I escort you and your men, my lord?"

"Ay that is me sir. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance." Sigismund said as he gave a salute of his own, just tipping his helmet forward slightly, he looked the men in front of him up and down, they certainly were equipped for a much different kind of warfare the kind that was normal in Camelone than in Taledonia, times were certainly changing. No matter how much the art of war changed the steel blade and a hussar charge would always be in Sigismund's heart as he fought and the cavalry will always win the day when used properly.

"I am well Captain Wulthrum and I pray you are well to. Brother Hartmut here will speak to you if you have anything you need to say, he speaks both of our tongues fluently being a man of with blood from both of our countries and I would appreciate it if you would escort me, thank you." With pleasantries out of the way Sigismund was relieved, especially with letting the monk take over the talks. There was only so much formality that Sigismund could handle before he became agitated, no he preferred the field of battle over the diplomats table and the thundering of rifles and clanging of steel over long winded speeches and equivocation. He rode silently from there on out as Brother Hartmut talked with the captain, the rest of the retinue and Sigismund himself were watching their surroundings closely though Sigismund doubted all of it was due to the mission many of these men didn't like being in the Taledonian capital without a crusading army behind them.

[Taledonia]

Ælraed Ballantyne knew that the Margrave Sigismund was a man of action, not words. It had been a calculated effort, having him shown into the city with as much fanfare as was decent without making a farce(no trumpets or flower petals, but soldiers had lined the main streets leading from the city's gates to the palace), and further delaying him by arranging for a formal reception within the atrium. The whole affair had taken hours from when Brampton, that useful man, had collected the Camelonian lord outside the city. And here he was, finally, holding the door not to the throne room, but to the small office Ballantyne used for official matters of state, and announcing with a fine, powerful voice that he had the honour to present Margrave Sigismund of Darini. The look of anger and annoyance was almost too much to bear, and it took all of Ælraed's fortitude not to show the slightest trace of the joy it caused him.

"Margrave Sigismund," he said, rising from his small desk to take the few steps between them and offer his hand. "I must apologize profusely, but His Majesty has been taken ill. It is an unfortunate matter, but what can we mortals do when age strikes? My name is Ballantyne, Admiral of the Royal Navy and recently appointed Lord Protector of the Realm. Troubling times we find ourselves in, troubling, but I hope I can adequately fulfill my obligations to my king, long may He reign."

Pulling a chair for his guest, he moved to a small square table upon which sat a decanter. "Brandy, sir? Or perhaps some sherry? I must apologize for the conditions of our meeting, but space is short in times of war, and if your guards are to remain they must necessarily squeeze in tight. Brampton, be a fellow and take whichever of these men the Margrave can spare to the kitchens; I'm sure some cheese, meat and ale will go a long ways to restoring them after their journey."

He poured the drinks, offered the glass to Sigismund, moved to resume his seat, but remained standing until those that were staying did the best they could to fit into the office, while the rest trudged off and Brampton closed the door softly. "I give you good health and prosperity!" Ælraed toasted before taking a fair gulp of his brandy. "If it is proper, my Lord, I should like to present you with a small token of my esteem." Reaching into a drawer of his desk, Ælraed produced a small wooden box, which he handed to the Margrave. He took another sip of his drink, and decided that it tasted almost as good as the look on Sigismund's face. Almost. And the menace that came when the Margrave's escort sensed his discomfort and gripped their weapons was just that much tastier. "I believe you recognize the cross? It belongs to your sister. A gift, if I'm not mistaken, that you presented her with upon her wedding day, that she not forget her faith in this pagan land. A lovely piece, too; she was most unwilling to give it up. But my men had orders, and they insisted."

He took a moment to let the words sink in. "Do not despair, my Lord, your sister is completely unharmed and in good health. My sailors were able to take Stormhold relatively easily, and with little bloodshed; the castle's garrison being so reduced by their Lord off in rebellion against the Crown. A rebellion that, if I may be so bold, you are here to assist. A travesty, I should say, as it was always the understanding that our two great nations were on good terms."

Ælraed wondered if the Margrave was thinking of the soldiers he had passed on his way through the capital in a new, more menacing light, as if a threat rather than a welcome. Surely it must have crossed his mind. And now, separated from the majority of his guard by necessity(the size of room was a prime reason for Ballantyne's choice in location), he was in a foreign citadel being accused of conspiracy and hostility. Would he lunge across the table? Ælraed was alone in the room, and the Margrave and his remaining guard could easily kill him, particularly as he had no weapons at hand. Finishing his brandy in one last drink, he placed his glass on the desk and sat back in his chair.

"The next move is yours, Margrave. But know that your honour, your sister and, most importantly, your faith, hinges on what you decide here today."

[A m e n r i a]

The change it atmosphere was shocking. Shocking enough for the young Peranakan Dwipantaran soldier to send chills up his spine and goosebumps appear on his skin. He just realized how cold the water and the air was and quickly got out if the stream and put the rest of his clothes on.

With the creepy surroundings, he could not stay much longer. He hurried back to his comrades' camp. He uttered a few pieces of a sentence, but couldn't manage to say a complete one. "Girl...leaf skirt..appear..talked to me!"

[Camelone]

Ælraed Ballantyne knew that the Margrave Sigismund was a man of action, not words. It had been a calculated effort, having him shown into the city with as much fanfare as was decent without making a farce(no trumpets or flower petals, but soldiers had lined the main streets leading from the city's gates to the palace), and further delaying him by arranging for a formal reception within the atrium. The whole affair had taken hours from when Brampton, that useful man, had collected the Camelonian lord outside the city. And here he was, finally, holding the door not to the throne room, but to the small office Ballantyne used for official matters of state, and announcing with a fine, powerful voice that he had the honour to present Margrave Sigismund of Darini. The look of anger and annoyance was almost too much to bear, and it took all of Ælraed's fortitude not to show the slightest trace of the joy it caused him.

"Margrave Sigismund," he said, rising from his small desk to take the few steps between them and offer his hand. "I must apologize profusely, but His Majesty has been taken ill. It is an unfortunate matter, but what can we mortals do when age strikes? My name is Ballantyne, Admiral of the Royal Navy and recently appointed Lord Protector of the Realm. Troubling times we find ourselves in, troubling, but I hope I can adequately fulfill my obligations to my king, long may He reign."

Pulling a chair for his guest, he moved to a small square table upon which sat a decanter. "Brandy, sir? Or perhaps some sherry? I must apologize for the conditions of our meeting, but space is short in times of war, and if your guards are to remain they must necessarily squeeze in tight. Brampton, be a fellow and take whichever of these men the Margrave can spare to the kitchens; I'm sure some cheese, meat and ale will go a long ways to restoring them after their journey."

He poured the drinks, offered the glass to Sigismund, moved to resume his seat, but remained standing until those that were staying did the best they could to fit into the office, while the rest trudged off and Brampton closed the door softly. "I give you good health and prosperity!" Ælraed toasted before taking a fair gulp of his brandy. "If it is proper, my Lord, I should like to present you with a small token of my esteem." Reaching into a drawer of his desk, Ælraed produced a small wooden box, which he handed to the Margrave. He took another sip of his drink, and decided that it tasted almost as good as the look on Sigismund's face. Almost. And the menace that came when the Margrave's escort sensed his discomfort and gripped their weapons was just that much tastier. "I believe you recognize the cross? It belongs to your sister. A gift, if I'm not mistaken, that you presented her with upon her wedding day, that she not forget her faith in this pagan land. A lovely piece, too; she was most unwilling to give it up. But my men had orders, and they insisted."

He took a moment to let the words sink in. "Do not despair, my Lord, your sister is completely unharmed and in good health. My sailors were able to take Stormhold relatively easily, and with little bloodshed; the castle's garrison being so reduced by their Lord off in rebellion against the Crown. A rebellion that, if I may be so bold, you are here to assist. A travesty, I should say, as it was always the understanding that our two great nations were on good terms."

Ælraed wondered if the Margrave was thinking of the soldiers he had passed on his way through the capital in a new, more menacing light, as if a threat rather than a welcome. Surely it must have crossed his mind. And now, separated from the majority of his guard by necessity(the size of room was a prime reason for Ballantyne's choice in location), he was in a foreign citadel being accused of conspiracy and hostility. Would he lunge across the table? Ælraed was alone in the room, and the Margrave and his remaining guard could easily kill him, particularly as he had no weapons at hand. Finishing his brandy in one last drink, he placed his glass on the desk and sat back in his chair.

"The next move is yours, Margrave. But know that your honour, your sister and, most importantly, your faith, hinges on what you decide here today."

Sigismund flashed a wicked smile as he made his way over to the Lord Protector "Check the room for guards. You two take position outside and alert me of what is going on, if any of his guards try to stir up trouble subdue them like you have done before, and Brother Hartmut offer the Lord Protector Baptism before I gut him like a fish." As he gave his orders his guards went to work immediately checking the surroundings for any hidden spot for guards pistols and swords out ready to kill while the two men he ordered to take position outside did so, they were used to the political machinations of Camelonean nobility. Sir Ninian shook his head and muttered something about a foolish man and the monk looked absolutely frightened for the sake of the Lord Protector.

"You thought it was wise to provoke me? You thought Camelone and Taledonia were on good terms? Ha you are truly foolish! The Patriarch and numerous nobles have been clamoring for any excuse to launch a Crusade against this heathenish land, the only thing keeping them at bay was us the Margraves and our relations to the families in rebellion. Now I demand that you release my sister this minute or I will kill you and carve as large of a path of death and destruction I can before I die... Perhaps I should deliver your head to your senile king myself." Sigismund said threateningly as he unsheathed his knife and brought it close to the Lord Protector, he would not let his families honor be insulted like this no he will avenge his name and send those who taunted him to the fires of hell.

Stepping up timidly Brother Hartmut spoke up "Sire please calm down, there is no need for this we can just leav-"

"Absolutely not brother. This man has taunted me all day and has insulted my houses honor so now he either releases my sister immediately or I kill him. I don't care if I die or start a war I will not allow my son to be known as the son of a coward." His voice was dark and full of malice, the voice of a man intent on killing but also a tone of one who is ready to die for the sake of maintaining his families honor for his honor not only effects his standing but also how his son will be seen, whether he will be seen as a coward's son or a heroes son. "So what do you say Lord Protector?"

[Taledonia]

The sun had been up for a good hour when the youth arrived back at the camp. Cathbad was sitting over a pot of boiling water, contentedly smoking a pipe and sprinkling some flower petals into the water. He looked up disinterestedly as the youth began to ramble about his experiences of the night, and with a lazy yawn, he beckoned the lad to take the stump next to him and warm himself by the fire.

"A cup of tea will set you to rights, lad," Cathbad told him, "It shall be ready presently. Hand me those leaves, would you? I've some smoked meats wrapped in them that are lovely when heated over a fire."

As the tea steeped and the meat cooked, they said nothing of the night. Instead, they spoke of the bird that was singing somewhere to their left, and of how nice a warm morning was. When the rest of the Dwipantarans had awoken and joined them, the tea and meat being dolled out to all those interested, Cathbad turned to the lad.

"Now, a girl in a leaf skirt, eh? Sounds like you let your mind wander onto something more pleasant than a dark forest. I assume she was topless, to boot?" He turned to Captain Yudha, "Perhaps we chose one with TOO much sexual tension."

-----------------------------------------------

Ballantyne did not take his eyes off those of Sigismund, even as the steel of the blade was brought menacingly close. Rather, he gave a sympathetic smile as the Camelonians searched in vain for any hidden threats. They were completely alone with the Lord Protector, as he had intended. When things had settled, as much as could be said to have settled in such a situation, Ælraed replied to the Margrave in a tone of pure calm and unconcern.

"So much for love thy neighbour, but then you Camelonians have always picked which parts of your sacred texts to follow and which to ignore. But I digress. Let me assure you, Margrave, your sister is perfectly safe, and I have every intention of sending her safely to you in Camelone itself. I have a proposition for you, Margrave, one that will satisfy everyone, I believe. Really, there's no need for all this talk of death and war, and certainly not of crusade. Again, is it not your god whom espouses peace and kindness?"

The Camelonian lord did not seem impressed, but only further enraged. A touchy people, thought Ælraed, who are prepared to take offense at everything. He fully believed that Sigismund was prepared to give his life for his honour, and that simply would not do. He needed Sigismund alive if his plans were to come to fruition. But how best to convince this man? The plan to get him riled up had been a thorough success. And now, with emotions running high, it was time to appeal to the right side of the noble.

"You speak of cowardice, my lord, yet it would be the greatest cowardice not to listen to what I say now, for it is of a future. A future for both of us, in which we are both championed as heroes. You speak of honour, which I know you have in abundance. I know you have pledged your support to the Taledonian lords currently in rebellion, and it would be insulting of me to ask you to betray that; nor will I, for it would be a futile attempt. And you speak of family, and the bonds that tie you to my country.

Will you show courage, my Lord Sigismund, and listen to what I propose? Will you keep the reputation of Camelone intact and maintain the peace in this, a diplomatic mission, and not tarnish your honour by becoming known as a common assassin? And will you not listen, for the sake of family?"

Ælraed finally looked at the blade that was poised to strike at him, and spreading his hands wide, he returned his gaze to Sigismund. "Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy."

[Camelone]

Ballantyne did not take his eyes off those of Sigismund, even as the steel of the blade was brought menacingly close. Rather, he gave a sympathetic smile as the Camelonians searched in vain for any hidden threats. They were completely alone with the Lord Protector, as he had intended. When things had settled, as much as could be said to have settled in such a situation, Ælraed replied to the Margrave in a tone of pure calm and unconcern.

"So much for love thy neighbour, but then you Camelonians have always picked which parts of your sacred texts to follow and which to ignore. But I digress. Let me assure you, Margrave, your sister is perfectly safe, and I have every intention of sending her safely to you in Camelone itself. I have a proposition for you, Margrave, one that will satisfy everyone, I believe. Really, there's no need for all this talk of death and war, and certainly not of crusade. Again, is it not your god whom espouses peace and kindness?"

The Camelonian lord did not seem impressed, but only further enraged. A touchy people, thought Ælraed, who are prepared to take offense at everything. He fully believed that Sigismund was prepared to give his life for his honour, and that simply would not do. He needed Sigismund alive if his plans were to come to fruition. But how best to convince this man? The plan to get him riled up had been a thorough success. And now, with emotions running high, it was time to appeal to the right side of the noble.

"You speak of cowardice, my lord, yet it would be the greatest cowardice not to listen to what I say now, for it is of a future. A future for both of us, in which we are both championed as heroes. You speak of honour, which I know you have in abundance. I know you have pledged your support to the Taledonian lords currently in rebellion, and it would be insulting of me to ask you to betray that; nor will I, for it would be a futile attempt. And you speak of family, and the bonds that tie you to my country.

Will you show courage, my Lord Sigismund, and listen to what I propose? Will you keep the reputation of Camelone intact and maintain the peace in this, a diplomatic mission, and not tarnish your honour by becoming known as a common assassin? And will you not listen, for the sake of family?"

Ælraed finally looked at the blade that was poised to strike at him, and spreading his hands wide, he returned his gaze to Sigismund. "Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy."

"Was that a threat to my sister Lord Protector?" Sigismund seethed pushing the knife into skin drawing blood "For the one in authority is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. Romans 13:4. This is matters of state and not personal morality, you hold my sister as a hostage to gain leverage over me a great injustice to honor and while I am duty bound as a Christian to forgive you my other sacred duty is to steward my country and in that I am the vengeful sword of God!" Ælraed had done a to good of a job in pissing Sigismund off and now all he could see was red with his words not even registering on his face just the desire to murder.

Sir Ninian spoke up as he walked behind Ælraed "Sire perhaps hear him first before we fight our way out, I don't know about you but I would rather know all options before pledging my death to this." None of the men seemed all that shaken by the threats to their honor, they were confident in the right judgment of the Cameloneans, they all believed they were in the right by killing the Lord Protector it was common in Camelone for this type of vengeance to be enacted when such taunts were so blatantly vaulted in front of everyone's eyes, it was an insult not only against Sigismund but the sacred position of nobility and the sacred throne of Jesus. This is why they looked eager to fight, they wished to avenge the sleight to Christ's honor himself by this heathen.

Moving back slightly Sigismund looked over at one of his men "You tell the others to wait for the sound of a pistol discharge, if you hear it begin your bloody work."

Slamming his chest the knight bowed "As you command sire." And swiftly left, he would tell the men to get ready to leave and pray a chaplet of St. Michael.

[Taledonia]

With a nod of respect in the direction of Sir Ninian, Ælraed turned back to Margrave Sigismund.

"I will be blunt, Margrave, for I believe now is the time to be quick with words. This is what I propose: You will accept the hospitality of the Crown for the night, and garrison yourself and your men in a quaint but comfortable inn not far from the city gates. At precisely three o'clock in the morning, you will receive an armed escort, who will deliver to you the Lord Galloway, currently a prisoner in the Temple prison. Under cover of night, you will take Lord Galloway back to Camelone, and there you will hold him as a guest(or prisoner, your choice), until the rebellion is dealt with. Which I can assure you, Margrave, it will be dealt with very soon. Once Lord Galloway is safely installed in Darini, then I shall have your sister transported, in comfort, to join you there. This is not a betrayal of your cause, my Lord, but quite the opposite. You were sent here to rescue Galloway, do not deny it, for I have agents everywhere. You will be fulfilling this oath. Further, you will be assisting the rebellion by keeping Galloway out of it. I will not get into the politics of our realm, but the rebels are being foolish, and only hurting themselves. His Majesty the King is dying, without an heir. There is no threat to their rights, as there will be no central authority to strip them away.

"This is what I require of you, and I do not expect you to do it out of Christian charity. If you will consent to this, then not only would you be saving lives, a noble goal for any religious man, but I will offer the Church much more influence than it could ever have otherwise. Even were you to crusade, and win, Christianity would only be reviled as a false truth, and its adherents barbarous invaders. Instead, I will build a glorious cathedral here in Taledon, and I will gift it to the Camelonean church. From here, you will be able to spread the Word of God to thousands. You may appoint whatever cardinals or bishops you see fit, and they may preach until they run out of water for baptism."

Taking a handkerchief of pure white cotton from his coat, Ælraed dabbed lightly at the blood that was dripping from where Sigismund had poked him. It had been some time since he had last seen his own blood, and he was somewhat shocked to see it was still so red, so...human. "Think of it, Margrave. Not only would you accomplish your mission here, but you would be celebrated as a hero. You will have saved countless lives and avoided unnecessary suffering. Further, you will be the catalyst for the rapid expansion of Christianity within Taledonia, something I believe your faith offers sainthood for, though I could be wrong. And all I ask is that you take one noble and keep him in Camelone."

[A m e n r i a]

The scent of smoked meat and tea lingered in the air. The sound of birds chirping in the morning accompanied the rustle of leaves in the cool wind. The peranakan sat by Cathbad and tried to calm himself down by drinking some tea and eating the breakfast his host offered him.

The light of the rising sun illuminated the camp, Dwipantaran soldiers waking up one by one. They drowzily joined the duo, taking some meat themselves.

"Yes..she was...topless. Do you know her? She said something about an amber." The young peranakan started to gain composure. His captain merely chuckled at Cathbad's last sentence, whereas others were still too sleepy to react.

"She called me a fool. She threw my pants and my gun into the water. What is wrong with her? What is wrong with me? She did all those but I'm still curious about her.." the young Dwipantaran continued, still a bit shaken.

[Rezua]

Out at Sea

Taledonia was still not in sight but at least the sun was. During the morning, it seemed as if the sun was rising from the ocean itself. Viratha sat perched on the Shalarin 's bow praying quietly. From behind, she heard the faint ruffling of a fine cloak dragging along the deck. She smiled "Morning Gyenti." Her brother laughed "I suppose Averentus told you that?" He took a seat behind her, almost falling overboard in the process. For a man who lived in and on the ocean, Gyenti had terrible sealegs.

The young princess opened her eyes and turned to her brother "It doesn't take a god to hear your cloak dragging along the deck. The soldier's cloaks are more coarse and make more noise. Your cloak is silk and slides smoothly." The twin shrugged "Whatever, doesn't matter too much." They sat in silence until Gyenti broke it again "Do you think that it's them?" Who they were wasn't open to misunderstanding. The princess answered her older brother calmly "No. At least not at their full strength. If they were, we'd have been fighting by now." The young man chuckled drily "Pleasant."

Viratha resumed praying as the sun rose higher up into the sky. Her brother's voice pulled her back into the moment "I do not want to die, Viratha. Sailing into the jaws of spirits, even if it's not them is still stupid to me. Rather, it's stupid to send me. I'm not a warrior, I'm not my twin. And yet, father gives me a sword. A "magic" sword he said. Well I don't feel any magic."

He drew a sword from his hip. It was a silvery sword, smooth but razor sharp. Along the handle were shells and pearls, and the blade itself reflected light as if it were waves from the sea. He swung the sword but all it did was whizz in the air. He sighed "Maybe Shandas should have been given it." Viratha rebuked him gently "Father would not make a decision he believed was stupid, Gyenti. We have to trust in his insight." Gyenti looked at the sun rise for a moment before saying, "So, you gunna do it?" Viratha stood up and raised her arms up to the sky. And prayed.

The wind began to blow around them, first as a whisper, then as a roar. The sails creaked with the wind and Viratha laughed. Their ship began to speed up abruptly. A few sailors grumbled as they grabbed onto something. Others simply fell off into the water, swan diving gracefully to join the dolphins and their aventi riders rather than hold on. The ship began to increase in speed, faster and faster, until they had gone what two hours of travel might have done. Their escorts were pulled along in the current.

Viratha sat down, breathing heavily. Such a spell being channeled through her would take up most of her energy for the morning, so she only did it a few times a day to help their journey. Not many could do what she did alone, in fact, it took a whole crew working together to get an hour's travel sometimes. When people saw this power she had, they had begun to stop calling her crazy. Though, some still did.

Shandas and her dolphin appeared from the waves. "Viratha!" she shouted "I told you to warn me the next time you did that! I got pulled off my dolphin, again." Gyenti's face breathed at the thought of taunting his twin, "Maybe you need to learn how to hold on better!" A stream of water shot up from the sea and splashed Gyenti in the face. He had been standing over the rail, so his voice could reach Shandas. It had not been a powerful spell from Shandas, but it was just enough to knock Gyenti overboard. With a small gasp, the flamboyantly dressed prince unwillingly accepted the sea's embrace. He remained underwater, breathing in familiar terrain, scheming of a way to get Shandas back. Viratha smiled. Their could be a great danger coming to the world. But at least her siblings were still themselves.

[Taledonia]

The scent of smoked meat and tea lingered in the air. The sound of birds chirping in the morning accompanied the rustle of leaves in the cool wind. The peranakan sat by Cathbad and tried to calm himself down by drinking some tea and eating the breakfast his host offered him.

The light of the rising sun illuminated the camp, Dwipantaran soldiers waking up one by one. They drowzily joined the duo, taking some meat themselves.

"Yes..she was...topless. Do you know her? She said something about an amber." The young peranakan started to gain composure. His captain merely chuckled at Cathbad's last sentence, whereas others were still too sleepy to react.

"She called me a fool. She threw my pants and my gun into the water. What is wrong with her? What is wrong with me? She did all those but I'm still curious about her.." the young Dwipantaran continued, still a bit shaken.

Puffing gently, Cathbad sent lazy swirls of smoke rising into the air. "I've known many topless women over my life. Truly a blessing from the Spirits, but hardly anything to be so worked up about, lad." He stirred some coals around with a stick. "Perhaps her name was Amber, and you were so enraptured by her graceful nature that you misunderstood. After all, women can be quite touchy if you don't remember their name, and she did throw your belongings into the stream. A valuable lesson, I think, should you ever seek to be married."

Cathbad slumped over somewhat. Clearly his plan of arousing the interests of some playful spirit had not gone as planned, and the boy had only fallen prey to a wily youth of a nearby village. He thought about those villages, for he knew them well, and then began to think of who had named their daughters Amber. Three came to mind, but they were either too young or too old, and would hardly venture the half-day's journey to such a place. The common folk did not enjoy being in sacred places; it scared them, and too often they never came back. "Amber..." he muttered, chewing on the wood of his pipe, "Amber..."

His eyes suddenly lit up with idea. "Amber, you say? Think, lad, and tell me exactly what she said."

[A m e n r i a]

He tried to remember, the young peranakan. The last night was like one spent with alcohol, making it difficult to remember.

He sat down with his head down and his hand supporting it. He recalled walking to the stream before meeting the girl. He took off his clothes, set his gun nearby, and went to dip in the running water.

Then she appeared. What did she say, he wondered...Then it hit him.

"There was a deal, and Taledonia was the price. Amber keeps them together. Look at the Amber, and you will find what you seek...Yea, I think that's what she said..What does it all mean?" He looked up at Cathbad again.

[Taledonia]

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Cathbad lightly struct his pipe against the stump he was sitting on, shaking out the remaining tobacco and extinguishing it with his foot. His face was grave, and he appeared to slump under a great weight. Everything was suddenly coming into focus, and it was creating a picture that he did not enjoy. "So it is like that, is it?" he muttered, and seeing the looks of confusion around him, he got to his feet, suddenly looking a hundred years old. He slowly reached into his cloak, and then with lightning speed threw something into the fire that exploded and crackled into a dense, dark cloud of smoke. There was the smell of sulfur, then of an overwhelming fungus, until finally the air smelt of the forest once more, and the smoke lightened to reveal the ethereal image of a giant deciduous tree. Its leaves were a bright yellow, almost gold in colour, and its bark was a brownish red, like clay. They gazed upon it, and the shock that registered on their faces when the small temple ruins beside it came into view and gave it scale; the tree had to be nearly 200 feet high, and its trunk a circumference of nearly 80.

"Behold, the Amber Throne," said Cathbad, "The true capital of Taledonia. Within this mighty tree is carved the royal chair, bedecked in amber formed by the tree's own sap. Its roots grow deep into the heart of the Cloudburst Mountains, while its canopy towers over it all. It is from here that the very soul of Taledonia stems. It was here that we were saved from the Shadow. My order is responsible for keeping the spirit and wisdom of our ancestors alive. We remember, we watch, and we record. I will relate to you all, as it was related to me, the story of how our kingdom came to be, and the importance of Amber.

"The universe is balance. Nothing can be without its opposite. It started with Truth: It was true that there was nothing. And since there was Truth, there was necessarily Untruth, which agreed that there was nothing, even though it knew itself and its opposite existed, therefore making it a liar. From these concepts, these ideas, did the Immaterium spring forth; the realm of thought, of ideas, of fantasy and magic. And because this immaterial world existed, it necessarily created its opposite, the material world. From that point on, every living being would influence the Immaterium with their thoughts and ideas, creating shapes and spectres, which in turn would exert influence over the material world. It is because of our belief in the Spirits that they exist, and it is because they exist that we venerate the Spirits and seek their guidance. Balance.

"It is believed that the Shadow was a result of nightmares. The people of Meridia, youthful and unknowing, imagined demons in the night. They imagined creatures of malevolence behind every unknown, and all this ill-belief and folklore manifested itself in the Immaterium, as it needed to. And as it grew, it exerted its influence on the material world, and spawned the horror of the Shadow. As the Shadow expanded, it only grew in power, as the fears and superstitions of those who beheld them only strengthened the idea of them, which strengthened their physical forms and made them unstoppable. It was my early predecessors who assumed this, and it was they who traveled high into the Cloudburst on a stormy night, and there dealt with the Spirits.

"A bargain was struck. The Druids would begin venerating the Spirits of the world, and convincing others to do so, so that all the fears and hopes and beliefs of the people would funnel into them and give them strength, rather than feeding the Shadow. In return, the Spirits would use their strength to heal the worst atrocities inflicted by the Shadow. They took our children for their own at times, the selfish, fickle creatures, but the Spirits were shaped by a people who lingered in oppression and had no faith or trust. When the Shadow lifted, the pact was maintained. The first king was baptized in the sap of this great tree, and the Spirits themselves carved the Amber Throne to solidify the bargain. The people would forever venerate the Spirits, and forgive them their wilful and wanton acts, for they kept the Immaterium in balance, and thus the universe in balance.

"But in our age, the old ways are waning, and it appears that the Spirits are angry. Fewer and fewer are paying them homage, and the common folk are wary of visiting their sacred sites lest they be taken and never seen again. If it was indeed the Spirits who murdered the Crown Prince, then the pact is truly broken. But a new deal? Who could possibly forge such a bargain, and what would it entail? This is what we must discover, my friends, and we must do it quickly. Balance must be maintained, or darkness could very well spread across Meridia once more. We must travel to the Cloudburst Mountains, and ascend to the Amber Throne. Steel yourselves, for it is an arduous journey, and we will face not only the physical barriers, but the Immaterial itself. The borders of reality and unreality are thin within those snowy peaks, and an unguarded mind can be easily lead astray."

[A m e n r i a]

The Dwipantarans were surprised by Cathbad's suddem throwing of a magical object to the bonfire. Colours and odours appeared, before the image of a large - no, huge tree revealed itself.

They sat around the bonfire, listening intently to Cathbad like a group of children listening to an elder's story. An interesting story it was, indeed. History and magic put into words, which fascinated the curious soldiers.

However, the story ended with a mission briefing. The soldiers then reverted to their serious expression, retaining their professionalism. "Must we go now?" Asked Captain Yudha. "Right now we are just a machine gunner on a tiger, a troll on direhorse and several men and women on stags. It would be better if we had reinforcements, perhaps have some more firepower from rockets." Captain Yudha gently stroked his tiger, who was lying besides him and rubbing her head against him affectionately.

[Taledonia]

"You could summon the armies of Dwipantara for all the good it would do you," the druid told them. "Spirits are not of the material world, and cannot be killed by such. They are immaterial, and must be dealt with in such a fashion. You must steel your minds against them, and overcome them with willpower and fortitude." Cathbad looked to the sky, judging the height and placement of the sun, the clouds, and the stars that could just barely be made out in the early morning sky.

"As I said, it is a long journey, Captain, and we should depart at once. It will take weeks to reach the Cloudburst, and we may be delayed by soldiers; or had you forgotten that we are in the midst of a rebellion. Stealth will be our ally until we can reach the mountains, and it will be difficult traveling in the deep brush and scrub to avoid the patrols and pathfinders of both sides in this conflict." He turned to the young Peranakan. "You must be extra cautious. There was a reason you were visited last night. Innocence and inexperience attracts them. Cynicism is a curse of the old, but also a useful tool when dealing with spirits."

[A m e n r i a]

The Peranakan had a surprised look in his face, but he was not fazed enough to be shocked. "O-oh, me? What do you suggest I do?"

Captain Yudha would have little problems with stealth. Though large, his mount has striped which would help her blend with tall grass, and her paws are soft enough to allow her to walk unnoticed.

[Camelone]

With a nod of respect in the direction of Sir Ninian, Ælraed turned back to Margrave Sigismund.

"I will be blunt, Margrave, for I believe now is the time to be quick with words. This is what I propose: You will accept the hospitality of the Crown for the night, and garrison yourself and your men in a quaint but comfortable inn not far from the city gates. At precisely three o'clock in the morning, you will receive an armed escort, who will deliver to you the Lord Galloway, currently a prisoner in the Temple prison. Under cover of night, you will take Lord Galloway back to Camelone, and there you will hold him as a guest(or prisoner, your choice), until the rebellion is dealt with. Which I can assure you, Margrave, it will be dealt with very soon. Once Lord Galloway is safely installed in Darini, then I shall have your sister transported, in comfort, to join you there. This is not a betrayal of your cause, my Lord, but quite the opposite. You were sent here to rescue Galloway, do not deny it, for I have agents everywhere. You will be fulfilling this oath. Further, you will be assisting the rebellion by keeping Galloway out of it. I will not get into the politics of our realm, but the rebels are being foolish, and only hurting themselves. His Majesty the King is dying, without an heir. There is no threat to their rights, as there will be no central authority to strip them away.

"This is what I require of you, and I do not expect you to do it out of Christian charity. If you will consent to this, then not only would you be saving lives, a noble goal for any religious man, but I will offer the Church much more influence than it could ever have otherwise. Even were you to crusade, and win, Christianity would only be reviled as a false truth, and its adherents barbarous invaders. Instead, I will build a glorious cathedral here in Taledon, and I will gift it to the Camelonean church. From here, you will be able to spread the Word of God to thousands. You may appoint whatever cardinals or bishops you see fit, and they may preach until they run out of water for baptism."

Taking a handkerchief of pure white cotton from his coat, Ælraed dabbed lightly at the blood that was dripping from where Sigismund had poked him. It had been some time since he had last seen his own blood, and he was somewhat shocked to see it was still so red, so...human. "Think of it, Margrave. Not only would you accomplish your mission here, but you would be celebrated as a hero. You will have saved countless lives and avoided unnecessary suffering. Further, you will be the catalyst for the rapid expansion of Christianity within Taledonia, something I believe your faith offers sainthood for, though I could be wrong. And all I ask is that you take one noble and keep him in Camelone."

"God determines Saints sir not men." Sigismund said as his mind jumped to opportunities, no it wasn't sainthood that peaked his interest but it was instead the fact about no explicit heir for the Taledonian throne. Now there was two possibilities that could arise from this one was that Taledonia would fall into a larger civil war as the noble families fight among themselves for the crown, something that the rebelling nobles should prepare themselves for instead of fighting a unified Royalist faction. The second possibility that banged around Sigismund's mind was the potential for a republic or Ælraed's rule, already Ælraed was the Lord Protector and when the king dies with no heir he would certainly be in control but he was the unknown variable he could be a republican or a ruler. Though if anything dangerous was to arise Sigismund didn't doubt that the Kings would unify to put down any upstarts, some new land for himself would surely follow and the guarantee of his families increase power, wealth, and prestige.

"You have yourself a deal. No-" As Sigismund was putting his weapon away he heard a scuffle behind him and when he turned around the sight that greeted him was the barrel of a pistol and a dead guard on the ground. The other living guards, except for Sir Ninian who had his hands up, have also aimed their pistols at the trio. "Sir Galan what is the meaning of this?" Sigismund demanded of the knight who is pointing his pistol at him.

"Duke Fechin's orders sir, he has promised us substantial sums of money and land to make sure this war keeps on going. The Duke has had repeated dreams of the threat of Taledonia would become to Camelone if they are unified again, no to guarantee the safety of Camelone this land must be devastated by war and from there we can subjugate them by the coin instead of the sword." Galan lectured with a grin "Much obliged for giving me a way to start a war now Margrave." The gravity of the situation hit Sigismund like a ton of bricks, he had ordered his men to start fighting at the sound of a pistol discharging and now multiple pistols were drawn, even if they got out of here alive all hell could be unleashed.

[Taledonia]

The Peranakan had a surprised look in his face, but he was not fazed enough to be shocked. "O-oh, me? What do you suggest I do?"

Captain Yudha would have little problems with stealth. Though large, his mount has striped which would help her blend with tall grass, and her paws are soft enough to allow her to walk unnoticed.

"You must steel yourself," replied the druid. "And you must close your mind. I know this is not why you have come, but it is necessary. Once we arrive at the Amber Throne, you may once again enquire of the world. But when we enter the Cloudburst, and until we arrive at the Throne, you must be closed to all things. Even each other, and the beasts you ride. The spirits will play all manner of tricks with you, and if you believe them, you may be lost. Concentrate on the physical world only. Concentrate on one foot in front of the other. Imagine nothing. Think of nothing but the rock and the trees and the destination. But most of all, do not listen to the wind."

--------------------------------------------

"God determines Saints sir not men." Sigismund said as his mind jumped to opportunities, no it wasn't sainthood that peaked his interest but it was instead the fact about no explicit heir for the Taledonian throne. Now there was two possibilities that could arise from this one was that Taledonia would fall into a larger civil war as the noble families fight among themselves for the crown, something that the rebelling nobles should prepare themselves for instead of fighting a unified Royalist faction. The second possibility that banged around Sigismund's mind was the potential for a republic or Ælraed's rule, already Ælraed was the Lord Protector and when the king dies with no heir he would certainly be in control but he was the unknown variable he could be a republican or a ruler. Though if anything dangerous was to arise Sigismund didn't doubt that the Kings would unify to put down any upstarts, some new land for himself would surely follow and the guarantee of his families increase power, wealth, and prestige.

"You have yourself a deal. No-" As Sigismund was putting his weapon away he heard a scuffle behind him and when he turned around the sight that greeted him was the barrel of a pistol and a dead guard on the ground. The other living guards, except for Sir Ninian who had his hands up, have also aimed their pistols at the trio. "Sir Galan what is the meaning of this?" Sigismund demanded of the knight who is pointing his pistol at him.

"Duke Fechin's orders sir, he has promised us substantial sums of money and land to make sure this war keeps on going. The Duke has had repeated dreams of the threat of Taledonia would become to Camelone if they are unified again, no to guarantee the safety of Camelone this land must be devastated by war and from there we can subjugate them by the coin instead of the sword." Galan lectured with a grin "Much obliged for giving me a way to start a war now Margrave." The gravity of the situation hit Sigismund like a ton of bricks, he had ordered his men to start fighting at the sound of a pistol discharging and now multiple pistols were drawn, even if they got out of here alive all hell could be unleashed.

Being threatened was expected, and indeed was the goal. But when the escort of Margrave Sigismund turned against him, Ælraed was genuinely surprised, and his mind immediately began searching for a solution to this unforeseen event. There was always his...gifts...but he had taken great pains up until this point in his life not to reveal those to anyone. It would never do to have his hand forced by this foreign mob, and he pushed the suggestion away as the lazy thing to do.

"Lands and gold," he said nonchalantly. "Both things the Margrave and I could easily offer in greater quantity. But then, turncoats are usually so quick to hold on to whatever scraps of honour and loyalty they have left, and say they can't be bought. I'm sure you'll next attempt to convince us that you are acting for the betterment of your country. Camelone in danger, and the heathen to be kept busy so as to protect the Chosen People. Whatever you need to say to convince yourselves that you are in the right of this."

As calmly as possible, Ælraed took hold of the Margrave's elbow, and with almost imperceptible force did he begin to draw him backwards, away from the pistols and towards him and Sir Ninian. Never once did he take his eyes off of Sir Galan, and his body language was all peace and compliance. When he had brought the Margrave close enough to himself, and having taken a few steps backwards himself in the direction of Sir Ninian, Ælraed Ballantyne slowly reached into his coat and very slowly removed a cigar, which he showed to Sir Galan and his men, demonstrating that he was no threat whatsoever. He licked the length of the tobacco leaf to wet it, then placed it in the corner of his mouth and reached for a match that sat on his desk. With a quick strike was it lit and brought to touch the cigar, which began to smoke and fill the room with the pleasant odour.

"Tell me," he spoke after a few puffs which truly felt like hours in the tenseness of the room, "Are you familiar with the natural sciences at all, Sir Galan? It has been all the rage in Taledonia these many decades, and our best and brightest over at the Royal Society spend their days observing, cataloguing and tinkering with everything they can find. I have a good friend, a mining magnate, who is himself an eminent ornithologist. And even before the Shadow, may it never reappear, our religious castes knew the ways of plants. This latter knowledge has understandably advanced with all the modern methods of control and observation possible in this day and age, and while I will admit that I often shirked my studies as a lad, I did retain some knowledge of the natural states. Fruits, grains and vegetables are of great importance, as they are often left to rot so that they might make that substance which men so crave. Alcohol, you understand. The market is wild for alcohols of all kinds, and it can only be produced by fermenting various fruits, grains and vegetables.

"But something else happens during the process, which those more wise in the ways of the world have named ethanol. A mostly odourless byproduct, ethanol can be fatal if not controlled, and the poor are known to be poisoned by cheap drink that hosts too much ethanol. It also has another use, however, if one is careful enough in its handling. And indeed, it was of great interest to me. So much so that I ordered the Royal Distillery moved below us, and took this little office above their fermentation chambers. I don't think the brewmasters thought me quite sane when I told them to do it, and to eschew any changes to the palace for proper ventilation. A week, I told them, would not do me any harm. So you see, we are currently standing on a wooden floor, with a build up of ethanol below us, and I ask your pardon for this Margrave!"

In the blink of an eye the cigar was falling towards a small crack in the floor's planking, while Ælraed had once more taken hold of Sigismund and was dragging him physically along as he dove to take cover behind the desk where Sir Ninian was already standing. Ælraed could not be sure if the soldiers had fired their weapons or not, so lost was he in the adrenaline rush, and barely had they slid halfway across the desk than the air below them ignited and heaved against the thick stone walls of the castle, finding nowhere else to burst but up. The sound was tremendous, a thunderclap that shook the entire room, while the jet of flame and smoke that fired up as if Hellfire from beneath consumed the room, blowing out the window panes from their casements and sending the room's door flying across the hall. Those outside, while thrown to their feet and no doubt unable to hear anything but a high-pitched ringing, would be otherwise fine Ballantyne reasoned. Those inside the room, however, he did not know. For his own part, he was stiff, deaf, and choking on the thick plumes of smoke that filled the small space. He could see nothing but obscure shapes through the blackness of the smoke, and up had no meaning to him.

The ethanol had ignited, sending up a flash for flame that would have singed hair and perhaps left some superficial burns, but the main objective had been to create a dense cloud of oily smoke that would fill the room and make escape possible.

An errant breeze from outside brought the broken window to his attention. He was still dumb and disoriented, he felt weak, and he was unsure of how long he had until his lungs failed him in the choked environment. But there was a window, and he felt limbs beside him. Was it the Margrave Sigismund? Sir Ninian? He couldn't be entirely sure, but he summoned all the resolve he had left, rose to his feet, dragged the equally dazed and discombobulated forms to the window, pushed them out head first, then jumped out himself. The fall was no great way, merely 10 feet or so, and with a silent prayer to the Spirits he thanked himself for instructing the castle's grooms to stack the sum of the stable's straw below his window. All three figures landed in a soft, if itchy and scratchy, pile. An alarm bell was tolling, and he could hear the clank of armoured boots running about. Even the discharge of a musket or two, which was curiously calming, as it meant his hearing was beginning to return.

"I really fucking hope that's you and Sir Ninian lying next to me, Margrave."