The Kepraini Rebellion [Gwalethia, IC]

[Tyrandia]

Official Release from the Commonwealth of Tyrandia:

20th Day of the 6th Month of the Gwalethian Calendar

In the glorious Commonwealth of Tyrandia, in the Keprain District; rebels have assassinated the Archmage in charge. Further declaring themselves a separate state, purging any and all supporters of the ruling council. As a result, the High Magoi Council, located in the capital of Tykare have declared a state of war to defend their people from these vile rebels. The council's official statement is that these rebels will cause nothing but harm to their country, and they must be stopped at all costs. As such, the council has ordered the deployment of all capable mages and fighters to suppress and eliminate them. Their leader, yet unknown, will be brought before the council for judgment.

In addition, the council has ordered a complete blockade of the district, forbidding any form of supplies; food, water, medicine, from entering the district until the rebellion is crushed. As of now, they have not involved any of the international community across Gwalethia, believing that this small rebellion will be easily crushed. Leading the assault against the vile rebels is Magister-Commander Kyri a'Sol, with the sole objective of crushing any form of resistance.

The above map shows the current status of Tyrandia, with the red representing territory controlled by the rebels.

Background History:

Tyrandia is a nation nearing 500 years of age. It is a nation where mages rule everything, and non-mages are considered to exist to serve the mages. It has existed in this sense since its inception, and the rebels are non-mages attempting to secede from the commonwealth. In the non-mage faction exist some mages known as "Impure", mages who have gone against the natural order and sided with the rebels. As such, these mages all have a bounty on their heads and any who turn them in dead, or alive, will receive monetary compensation. Tyrandia is led by the "High Magoi Council", a group of 32 mages whom decide things through popular vote, with two of them serving as senior members and breaking any stalemates.

Goals: To completely crush the rebels, reestablishing the status quo.

The rebels, known as the Kepraini, are separationists believing that they deserve more than they are currently receiving, and are aiming to gain their own state. They believe that the original concept of the Commonwealth was for mages to exist to protect and serve the nation as a whole, allowing for everyone to exist as equals. Their current goals are to either secede from the Commonwealth, forming a new republic as a result, or force a change in the Commonwealth in order to bring true equality. The Kepraini are led by an unknown rebel leader, known as an inspirational figure to those who are in the rebels; their identity is listed as a top priority for the Tyrandian's to discover, as the Kepraini believe they wish to assassinate them.

Goals: To gain independence and attempt to change the government of the nation.

To be added

Anyone wishing to involve themselves in this RP, please apply for the region. If you are already a member of the region, please feel free to get involved. The regional moderators will oversee this to make sure everything is done via fair play, and the rebels are being played by a separate nation than the Tyrandians, who is controlling who will be updated onto the regional spreadsheet shortly.

[Mokranshi]

Kotan Kane, Mokranshi
Grand Temple of the Five

Farseer Resak Sikanna sat at a rounded ice table in the temple dining hall, eating a meal of chilled muskox meat with careful deliberation. Around him sat the Elders, one from each of the five races of man and beastman, who served the Farseer as his council. The Elders continued to dine while the Farseer's icy blue eyes flicked from person to person, completely imperceptible. The hall itself was quiet, save for the eager chewing and tearing of the Elders. It seemed like any other evening at the Temple, were it not for the turning of the world outside.

Finally, as the council neared the end of their meals, the Farseer began to speak. 'So, with our stomachs full, shall we care to discuss how to proceed?' Elder Wisehorn of the bovigors was the first to speak. 'With regards to Shaman Obur's mission, Farseer, he has seen little success. It seems that the southerners are slow to accept the faith. I suppose that was to be expected at Lolede, but the conference at Wels also saw poor reception.'
'Understood, Elder. It seems that we may have to readjust our negotiations. We should disband the injunction against foreign faiths entering, Mokranshi, I think. If Obur's report is anything to go by, that must be the first demand to be dropped.'
'And let southern heretics come north to spread their poisonous lies?', gruffed Elder Spiritgazer of the rhinogors. 'Nonsense! If the warmbloods can't learn to accept the way we do things, then perhaps they have no place in Mulcarn's winter.'
'Everyone has a place in Mulcarn's winter, Elder Spiritgazer,' replied Resak. 'Besides, there is no faith stronger than our own. Mulcarn's way will survive a few paltry southern heathens. If we are to reach the southern folk with His message, then we must acquiesce to a few demands. Let them think they hold all the bargaining power. A happy warmblood is far more likely to listen.'

'And speaking of warmbloods who aught to listen,' spoke Elder Knifetusk of the mastogors as he chewed on a stray femur, 'what is to be done about the Tyrandian problem?' It was rare that a major nation so close to Mokranshi (relatively speaking) had any trouble, and even rarer to hear of a rebellion of such size happening anywhere in Gwalethia.
Spiritgazer piped up, 'Feh, that little state on the edges of the northern tundra? I say leave them to their squabbling. You watch, blessed Farseer. The mages will have crushed those rebels within the fortnight and it will be as if nothing happened. Besides, it's none of Mokranshi's concern.'
'Ah, but it is Mulcarn's concern,' began Elder Wandersnow of the kaprogors. 'Farseer, if you want my opinion, now would be a perfect time to reach out to the Tyrandians. The chaos will have wearied them so. Their hearts will be open to the gift of Mulcarn. I'm sure they would happily welcome some assistance from Mokranshi, if only to end this rebellion quicker and with less bloodshed. Promise them aid and reinforcements, maybe teach their mages some cryomancy, and in exchange, ask them to permit a Messenger into the capital and spread Mulcarn's word. Maybe they would authorize the building of a shrine even, if they were feeling generous.'
It was then that Elder Aknar of the humans stood. 'Pardon my interruption, Elder Wandersnow, but I must question the validity of such a plan. Knowing the powers of Tykare, I do not know I feel they would accept such terms. The Tyrandian magocracy is conservative and set in heir ways. I doubt they would be so willing to allow a foreign faith into their capital, even the true faith. Now, blessed Farseer, I propose a slightly different plan. We should instead aid the Kepraini. You see, they are fighting for a new nation, a new way of life. They are starved for support. Not only would they be far more likely to accept our aid, but they are trying to build a new society. One with few of the established rules and laws of Tyrandia. We could help build it. This new society would be ripe for Mulcarn's word. Forget a simple shrine, they would agree to a whole temple!'
'Calm yourself, Elder Aknar,' said Wisehorn. 'Mokranshi has few warriors to spare, not to mention that they are inland and would be harder to reach. That isn't even bringing up the fact that the Kapraini are surrounded, isolated, and have no established leader that we know of. How would be contact them? Who would we contact? How could we trust that this rebellion won't be completely destroyed in a few months?'
'We could send them a regiment of our Winterlords, perhaps a battalion of mastogors. What southerner could hope to match either?'
'And risk some of our most powerful warriors in what amounts to a gamble? Are you mad? You would waste our finest on a withering rebellion, in southern lands no less. They would be weakened.
'That she why we send the Winterlords. Tyrandia is fairly close to the northern wastes. With some adjustments and power, we could temporarily chill the area and have our warriors fighting at full strength. Even better if we can teach the rebel mages to help. Tyrandian mages are resourceful, surely they would know how to fuel such spells.'
'If that's the case, then the safer bet would be aiding the standing magocracy. None can match their magical knowledge.'

The Farseer listened to his council bicker for a little while longer before speaking up. 'Enough! I have heard both sides long enough. To begin, I do agree that the wiser option would be to aid the Tyrandians. They have the upper hand in nearly every conceivable way. With just a little outside help, the rebellion would be over in months. However, we would be playing it too safe with people who are too strict. There's no guarantee they would let a Messenger in to Tykare, let alone a shrine. On the other hand, the Kypraini and their fledgling republic are young and vulnerable. To turn them towards Mulcarn's path would be simple, even efficient enough to make it a majority religion if this republic survive, key word being 'if'. There is much risk in supporting the rebels. We'd lose soldiers, resources, and the goodwill of Tyrandia should the Kypraini fail. However, I did not become Farseer by being safe and hiding in my hut when Farseer Axebreaker perished. I gambled with my honor and my life by attempting to claim this position, and against all odds, here I stand. The first human Farseer. If I can reach this position, then perhaps the rebels can forge their republic and survive.
'With all that being said, here is what I decree: we shall not sit idly by while one of our closest neighbors burns. I will arrange for a raven to fly to Tykare addressed to the High Magoi Council. We will propose that we send resources to aid the Tyrandian anti-rebel effort, along with tutors to teach their mages the art of Mokrani cryomancy. In return, they will permit a Messenger of Mulcarn to enter Tykare and be allowed to preach His word as well as establish a shrine. We shall wait for his response.
'However, that is not all. Elder Aknar, I want you to find out whatever you can about this rebellion and its leadership. Find out how they work, where they operate, and especially how to contact them. If you can find such, inform me. I will prepare a similar proposition to them. One way or another, Mulcarn's winter will reach Tyrandia.'

[The United Kingdoms of Ferelden]

From the desk of the Commander

21th day of the 6 month

"They say we killed the Archmage and yea we did, I’ll admit to that but don’t let them sell you that drivel. For years we tried to be free, we and we did it the legal way. We tried to talk out a way to freedom, we used peaceful methods. Tried to make them see that we were people too even if we didn’t have the magical talent that they coveted. We tried everything even a strike to stop working. They didn’t like that have you even seen what magic can do to a man’s body? There aint words for it, so yea we rebelled to build a country where a man’s worth his own life.

So we ask for him the council has blockade the district, we need food, water, and medicine if we are to keep the rebellion going. We will make this country a place of equality and freedom that what the kepraini want nothing more and we will settle for nothing less."

[Tyrandia]

Kotan Kane, Mokranshi
Grand Temple of the Five

Farseer Resak Sikanna sat at a rounded ice table in the temple dining hall, eating a meal of chilled muskox meat with careful deliberation. Around him sat the Elders, one from each of the five races of man and beastman, who served the Farseer as his council. The Elders continued to dine while the Farseer's icy blue eyes flicked from person to person, completely imperceptible. The hall itself was quiet, save for the eager chewing and tearing of the Elders. It seemed like any other evening at the Temple, were it not for the turning of the world outside.

Finally, as the council neared the end of their meals, the Farseer began to speak. 'So, with our stomachs full, shall we care to discuss how to proceed?' Elder Wisehorn of the bovigors was the first to speak. 'With regards to Shaman Obur's mission, Farseer, he has seen little success. It seems that the southerners are slow to accept the faith. I suppose that was to be expected at Lolede, but the conference at Wels also saw poor reception.'
'Understood, Elder. It seems that we may have to readjust our negotiations. We should disband the injunction against foreign faiths entering, Mokranshi, I think. If Obur's report is anything to go by, that must be the first demand to be dropped.'
'And let southern heretics come north to spread their poisonous lies?', gruffed Elder Spiritgazer of the rhinogors. 'Nonsense! If the warmbloods can't learn to accept the way we do things, then perhaps they have no place in Mulcarn's winter.'
'Everyone has a place in Mulcarn's winter, Elder Spiritgazer,' replied Resak. 'Besides, there is no faith stronger than our own. Mulcarn's way will survive a few paltry southern heathens. If we are to reach the southern folk with His message, then we must acquiesce to a few demands. Let them think they hold all the bargaining power. A happy warmblood is far more likely to listen.'

'And speaking of warmbloods who aught to listen,' spoke Elder Knifetusk of the mastogors as he chewed on a stray femur, 'what is to be done about the Tyrandian problem?' It was rare that a major nation so close to Mokranshi (relatively speaking) had any trouble, and even rarer to hear of a rebellion of such size happening anywhere in Gwalethia.
Spiritgazer piped up, 'Feh, that little state on the edges of the northern tundra? I say leave them to their squabbling. You watch, blessed Farseer. The mages will have crushed those rebels within the fortnight and it will be as if nothing happened. Besides, it's none of Mokranshi's concern.'
'Ah, but it is Mulcarn's concern,' began Elder Wandersnow of the kaprogors. 'Farseer, if you want my opinion, now would be a perfect time to reach out to the Tyrandians. The chaos will have wearied them so. Their hearts will be open to the gift of Mulcarn. I'm sure they would happily welcome some assistance from Mokranshi, if only to end this rebellion quicker and with less bloodshed. Promise them aid and reinforcements, maybe teach their mages some cryomancy, and in exchange, ask them to permit a Messenger into the capital and spread Mulcarn's word. Maybe they would authorize the building of a shrine even, if they were feeling generous.'
It was then that Elder Aknar of the humans stood. 'Pardon my interruption, Elder Wandersnow, but I must question the validity of such a plan. Knowing the powers of Tykare, I do not know I feel they would accept such terms. The Tyrandian magocracy is conservative and set in heir ways. I doubt they would be so willing to allow a foreign faith into their capital, even the true faith. Now, blessed Farseer, I propose a slightly different plan. We should instead aid the Kepraini. You see, they are fighting for a new nation, a new way of life. They are starved for support. Not only would they be far more likely to accept our aid, but they are trying to build a new society. One with few of the established rules and laws of Tyrandia. We could help build it. This new society would be ripe for Mulcarn's word. Forget a simple shrine, they would agree to a whole temple!'
'Calm yourself, Elder Aknar,' said Wisehorn. 'Mokranshi has few warriors to spare, not to mention that they are inland and would be harder to reach. That isn't even bringing up the fact that the Kapraini are surrounded, isolated, and have no established leader that we know of. How would be contact them? Who would we contact? How could we trust that this rebellion won't be completely destroyed in a few months?'
'We could send them a regiment of our Winterlords, perhaps a battalion of mastogors. What southerner could hope to match either?'
'And risk some of our most powerful warriors in what amounts to a gamble? Are you mad? You would waste our finest on a withering rebellion, in southern lands no less. They would be weakened.
'That she why we send the Winterlords. Tyrandia is fairly close to the northern wastes. With some adjustments and power, we could temporarily chill the area and have our warriors fighting at full strength. Even better if we can teach the rebel mages to help. Tyrandian mages are resourceful, surely they would know how to fuel such spells.'
'If that's the case, then the safer bet would be aiding the standing magocracy. None can match their magical knowledge.'

The Farseer listened to his council bicker for a little while longer before speaking up. 'Enough! I have heard both sides long enough. To begin, I do agree that the wiser option would be to aid the Tyrandians. They have the upper hand in nearly every conceivable way. With just a little outside help, the rebellion would be over in months. However, we would be playing it too safe with people who are too strict. There's no guarantee they would let a Messenger in to Tykare, let alone a shrine. On the other hand, the Kypraini and their fledgling republic are young and vulnerable. To turn them towards Mulcarn's path would be simple, even efficient enough to make it a majority religion if this republic survive, key word being 'if'. There is much risk in supporting the rebels. We'd lose soldiers, resources, and the goodwill of Tyrandia should the Kypraini fail. However, I did not become Farseer by being safe and hiding in my hut when Farseer Axebreaker perished. I gambled with my honor and my life by attempting to claim this position, and against all odds, here I stand. The first human Farseer. If I can reach this position, then perhaps the rebels can forge their republic and survive.
'With all that being said, here is what I decree: we shall not sit idly by while one of our closest neighbors burns. I will arrange for a raven to fly to Tykare addressed to the High Magoi Council. We will propose that we send resources to aid the Tyrandian anti-rebel effort, along with tutors to teach their mages the art of Mokrani cryomancy. In return, they will permit a Messenger of Mulcarn to enter Tykare and be allowed to preach His word as well as establish a shrine. We shall wait for his response.
'However, that is not all. Elder Aknar, I want you to find out whatever you can about this rebellion and its leadership. Find out how they work, where they operate, and especially how to contact them. If you can find such, inform me. I will prepare a similar proposition to them. One way or another, Mulcarn's winter will reach Tyrandia.'

23rd Day of the 6th Month, High Magoi Council, Tykare
"We must consider this option wisely... should we allow them to bring in their foreign faith, it could lead to our magic being threatened due to faith! We must remain neutral to all beliefs!" Yelled one of the members of the high council, known as Magister Arkrat.

"We see reason... they are willing to help us deal with these rebels, whom wish to destroy our ways of life. Perhaps by allowing them to come, we would be able to ensure that these rebels never raise their weapons again." Responded another member of the high council, Magister Krannis.

"But by allowing them to practice their faith, we risk allowing faith to overrun magic as a whole!" Arkrat yelled back.

"Silence, dear magisters..." said one voice from the centre of the room, Grand Magister Sokia, "Listen... perhaps we can come up with a compromise. We would invite one to visit our state, and demonstrate their teachings. We would discuss their option and negotiate. We would make requests, and give concessions... but we will not give up our way of life. Agreed?" She stated bluntly, to the whole rooms cheer. "Then it is decided! We shall allow them to send a delegation where we shall discuss the options in details, send out the messenger! Soon these rebels shall be defeated."

Immediately, a guard ran out of the room to contact a messenger to send towards Mokranshi with the news.

[Mokranshi]

23rd Day of the 6th Month, High Magoi Council, Tykare
"We must consider this option wisely... should we allow them to bring in their foreign faith, it could lead to our magic being threatened due to faith! We must remain neutral to all beliefs!" Yelled one of the members of the high council, known as Magister Arkrat.

"We see reason... they are willing to help us deal with these rebels, whom wish to destroy our ways of life. Perhaps by allowing them to come, we would be able to ensure that these rebels never raise their weapons again." Responded another member of the high council, Magister Krannis.

"But by allowing them to practice their faith, we risk allowing faith to overrun magic as a whole!" Arkrat yelled back.

"Silence, dear magisters..." said one voice from the centre of the room, Grand Magister Sokia, "Listen... perhaps we can come up with a compromise. We would invite one to visit our state, and demonstrate their teachings. We would discuss their option and negotiate. We would make requests, and give concessions... but we will not give up our way of life. Agreed?" She stated bluntly, to the whole rooms cheer. "Then it is decided! We shall allow them to send a delegation where we shall discuss the options in details, send out the messenger! Soon these rebels shall be defeated."

Immediately, a guard ran out of the room to contact a messenger to send towards Mokranshi with the news.

30th Day of the Sixth Month, outskirts of Kotan Kane

'Hold the cow, blessed Farseer. Keep talking to it. It seems to be working. She's calm as can be.'
'As you say, herder. How are things on your end of the beast?'
'Not to worry, blessed Farseer. I've seen my fair share of birthings. This one's a little earlier than expected, but otherwise the old girl is doing just fine. And the calf...is...done!'

Resak heard a bout of high-pitched braying as the yak calf took its first gasps of air. With the politics of the realm having dulled recently, and no word from the south yet, the Farseer had elected to help the common folk of Kotan Kane with their work. He found that it kept him grounded and engendered goodwill in the populace towards him. For the time being, he was helping a yak herder with a cow of his, as the beast had gone into labor.

The herder made his way around the tired cow with a sopping wet and still braying calf in his arms. He squatted next to Resak and said 'Bless you for your help, Farseer. You made the whole ordeal much easier. I daresay you'd make a fine herder. Never seen the old girl remain so calm during birth.' Resak replied, 'You're most welcome, my good man. I am always glad to be of assistance to the children of Mulcarn.' He heard a grunt and felt a tug at his sleeve. Resak turned to see the cow chewing on his leather robe, where he promptly pulled back. The herder guffawed. 'Ha! Looks like the old girl has taken a liking to you! I'd best hand over the calf to her.' The herder placed the calf on its own unsteady hooves, where the cow began to lick her young clean.

Both the herder and Resak stood up and dusted themselves off. The herder spoke up, 'That's a job well done I'd say, blessed Farseer. A thousand thanks for your help once again, blessed Farseer. If you have the time, I'd love to invite you back to my hut and reward you proper. My wives make a delicious lichen soup!'

It was then that the two of them heard the sound of hooves on snow. They both ruined to see a homigor messenger running towards the Farseer. The boy stopped with a bow and said, 'Blessed Farseer, a message for you. Flown in by a raven just now.' The messenger handed Resak a parchment, with the seal of the Magoi. He looked at it for a moment before replying, 'Thank you, messenger. That will be all.' The boy bowed before clomping back towards Kotan Kane. Then, the Farseer turned to the yak herder. 'I am sorry, my good man, but I must return to the city. My divine purpose calls me.' The herder bowed low and replied, 'Of course, blessed Farseer. Thank you again for your help.'

Farseer Resak finally made it back inside the halls of the Grand Temple about an hour later. Elder Wandersnow and Elder Aknar were waiting for him. 'I take it since the two of you are here that you know why I have returned?'
Elder Wandersnow nodded. 'I heard of the message's arrival, blessed Farseer. I imagined now was a good time to confer with you about our next move, depending on the Council's reply.'
'And I have returned to try and dissuade you from making what would be an unstrategic decision, blessed Farseer.' He side eyed Wandersnow as he spoke. 'Moreover, I have found information you might find interesting. It concerns the resistance.'
The Farseer looked at the two Elders before continuing. 'Very well. You wish to advise? Follow me.'

The three of them made their way into the Farseer's personal chambers, whereupon Resak broke open the seal and read the reply of the Magoi, his brow furrowing as he went down the parchment. Finally, he rolled it back up and said, 'It seems that the Council is open to the possibility of an alliance. But there are some stipulations. First and foremost, they want a demonstration.'
'A demonstration? Of what?', said Wandersnow.
'Of our faith, our teachings, and likely our magecraft. They want to see what we would be bringing into their capital. They request that we send a delegation for the purposes of this demonstration and to discuss the details of this alliance. Namely, they want to discuss options and requests, as well as concessions.'
'It sounds like the Council wants less an alliance of mutual benefit and more one of convenience, blessed Farseer', said Aknar.
'And what exactly would you propose, Elder Aknar, since you seem so keen on berating this possible alliance', replied Wandersnow.
Akbar turned with a glint in his eyes. 'I'm glad you asked, Elder Wandersnow.'

Elder Aknar drew a dusty map from his robes and unfurled it on the Farseer's desk. On it was a somewhat rudimentary map of Tyrandia. 'Now, blessed Farseer, as you know, the district of Keprain is under siege from all sides by the Tyrandians. They aim to make sure that no one gets in or out. However, no siege is completely impenetrable. My informants tell me that there is a weak spot, here.' Aknar pointed to a spot on the border between Keprain and Tyrandia. 'My sources tell me that the Tyrandian forces are spread somewhat thin here. Patrols are not as common and watchmen are fewer in number. With proper care, we could slip a few of our delegates through this crack, and from there, they have a proper chance of contacting the rebels.'

'Truly, the Summer Plague must have taken you, Aknar, if you believe this is a sound plan', said Wandersnow. 'Such a plot would jeopardize our negotiations with the Tyrandians. And there's no guarantee the rebels would even meet with our men. If they don't and the Tyrandians find out, then we will have lost any opportunity to spread the faith to Tyrandia!'
'And if we take the harmless approach, assuming everything goes well, then we will only manage to convert a few thousand souls at best. The Tyrandians would never agree to a greater missionary presence if they knew the cost of becoming Winterborn.'
'Which is why, unlike you, Aknar, I don't plan to plot in the shadows. We will show the Tyrandians exactly what we offer, and all the benefits they will reap, should they agree.'
'The Kepraini have far, far more to gain from an alliance.' Aknar turned to Resak. 'What would you rather have, blessed Farseer? A few thousand followers in a civilization of millions that would revile them, or the faith of an entire country?'
'A country that has no formal ruler or recognition, blessed Farseer', Wandersnow interjected.

The Farseer spoke up. 'Do now worry, Elders. I will not waste any opportunity given to me. The way I see it, nothing is guaranteed, as nothing has been promised by either side. If we keep our options open, then we stand to make the most of this. Here's my decision: I will organize a convoy bound to Tyrandia. It will consist of a handful of our mages, our diplomats, and our Messengers. Officially, their objective will be to reach Tykare to try and negotiate a deal with the High Magoi Council. Unofficially, the objective of a few of these representatives will be to infiltrate the district of Keprain and establish contact with the rebels. I will select the representatives who will meet with the council. Elder Aknar, you will find those you can trust with the utmost discretion and secrecy. As the caravan makes its way through Tyrandia and closer to this supposed weak spot, your agents will happen to become separated from the rest of the convoy, where they will somehow end up crossing the Tyrandian-Kepraini border. From there, you know what will happen next. I trust you with properly informing these agents of their mission.'

Aknar bowed before the Farseer. 'Yes, blessed Farseer. It shall be done.' The Elder turned and left while Wandersnow watched. When Akbar had left the chambers, he turned to Resak and said, 'Blessed Farseer, far be it from me to question your wise judgement, but is it the best idea to try and secretly negotiate with two warring powers at once?'
Resak said, 'There can be no gain without risk, Elder. If we do not seize the chance to bring others into Mulcarn's winter, then we have failed as His children. Now, pardon me, but I have a convoy to organize.' As he made his way out, he paused. 'Seeing as we're in negotiations with the Magoi of all people, I think it best to show them the true extent of Mokrani power. They are hard to impress, after all. Do you think that they would be swayed by witnessing the Gift?'
'For power-hungry mage-kings? I think so, though I can't guarantee it. They love their magic like nothing else in this world, so I don't know how they would feel about losing the other schools in exchange for unrivaled cryomancy.'
'Magic is magic, Elder. This just might work. Fetch one of the Lost Mokrani* prisoners from the keep. They will be our demonstration.'
'Them? But wouldn't you rather have a willing participant, blessed Farseer?'
'As much as I would, I'm afraid we don't have time to convince them before negotiations begin. You'll have to take precautions, as I doubt they'll come quietly.'
'Yes, blessed Farseer. I will order a guard to fetch one of the Lost Mokrani immediately.'

One hour later...

The yak herder sat around the ice pit, with his two wives beside him, one on each side. Around the hut, his five children screamed and chattered in their play. Finally, he clopped his hooves on the floor and called them to supper, whereupon they quickly organized them selves into a circle around the pit. One of the herder's wives stood and dipped into the pot, pouring bowls of cool lichen soup and passing them around. The herder took his first gulp of the mixture and sighed. 'Delicious as always, dear. Thank you.' His wife smiled, at least to the extent that a kaprogor could smile. It was then that they heard a knock on the door. 'I'll get it', said the herder. He stood on his hooves and made his way to the front of the hut. He opened the door to see Farseer Resak standing there. 'Oh, blessed Farseer!' The herder bowed low, while Resak spoke up. 'Rise. I have come to ask you of something.'
'Of course, blessed Farseer. Whatever you wish.'

The Farseer cleared his throat. 'How much for your strongest yaks?'

Meanwhile...

Bataar desperately huddled for warmth around the makeshift fire. Despite the fact that his captors allowed him limited heat, the overwhelming cold around him made it almost pointless. It had been a week since the snow demons had found him. Like an idiot, he strayed a bit too far from the cave where his tribe lived, and was spotted by a patrol. They brought him to what he believed was their capital, and locked him away. At first, they tried interrogating him, then torturing him, on the whereabouts of his tribe, but he did not break. Since then, they've been keeping him in captivity, his only company being the occasional guard and the shamans who visited him and tried to convince him to convert. None of it worked. He would not become like them.

Bataar wasn't sure how much longer he would last caged like this. The rations were too little as they were, and he swore they were slowly reducing them. Probably to break him. They wouldn't work. They wouldn't work. They wouldn't...the sound of his cage door rattling open disturbed his concentration, as a hulking rhinogor stepped in. The beast uttered something in its foul language, something Bataar didn't understand. He growled back at him in Mokrani, 'There is no other tribe, and I will not become one of you demons.' All the rhinogor seemed to do was grunt and approach Bataar, a cudgel in hand. He tried weakly to shield himself, but the cudgel came down all the same. It landed square on his head, and everything went black.

[Fyrae]

The Immortal City, Fyrae
6th Day of the 7th Month

The Immortal City, as the capital of Fyrae was known, was a city steeped in sin and wickedness, it's buildings made of black stone and its muddied streets running through the city as a web of narrow passages and dangerous journeys, with the risk of being robbed or killed at every corner. And at its every heart sat the Eternal Palace, the beating heart of the entire wicked Empire. The Palace was a monolithic pyramid made of the darkest stone, with balconies appearing at different levels for whenever the Eternal Emperor wished to have fresh air. The entire structure was a testament to the self-indulgence and the egotistical nature of the Fyrae'ii.

Quickly hurrying up the steps to the Immortal Throne room, Inquisitor Zae'Utt'Tae heard his steps echo in the grandiose halls of the Palace. He felt his heart race to arrive early to his appointment with the Eternal Emperor, whom rarely granted audiences to those outside of the Council, and whose favour was needed for any hope of advancement in this world. Arriving in the Throne room, he was in awe of what he saw. A long hall stretched on, lined on both sides with pillars of gold. It's walls were a faded red and decorated with the skulls of various beasts and banners that the Emperor had slain or vanquished over his long life. And at the end of the hall sat Him, the Eternal Emperor himself. Sat upon a throne of black stone, with his sigil carved into the stone above him and the heads of beasts carved into the sides with the craftsmanship of a long-dead master. The Emperor himself was clothed in a white tunic with red trimmings, paired with a set of black trousers and boots. As custom dictated, his face was covered apart from his grey eyes, as any man beneath the rank of the Ever-Changing Council were forbidden to look upon the true face of the Emperor in any field other than battle.

Zae'Utt'Tae knelt instinctively, groveling intensely at the feat of the Emperor, of whom many considered to be a God Incarnate. The Emperor bide him to rise with a motion of his hand, yet Zae still avoided direct eye contact with the Emperor as no man his low a rank was worthy of such a thing.

"Loyal Inquisitor, why is it you have requested to meet with me?" the Emperor asked, his voice as silky as any man could hope.

"My Gracious and Benevolent Emperor, I bring news from the outer-world" he reported, fighting the urge his voice felt to express his love and devotion to the Emperor, looking up at the Emperor, he saw he was given the motion to continue "Eternal Emperor, the Magoi Realm of Tyrandia to our self faces revolt of the most grievous kind. Those ungracious of the kindness displayed by their rulers have declared themselves free of some form of alleged oppression" he reported dutifully, bowing when he finished speaking. Moments passed before the Emperor spoke;

"Tell me, Inquisitor, why it is that I should care for the petty squabbling of a realm infinitely lesser than my own" the Emperor asked, causing Zar to freeze up. The God-Emperor was severely displeased.


"M-m-my Eternal Emperor, this is most important as the most hated realm of the Morkanshi appear to be at the forefront of intervention" he responded nervously, feeling himself shrink beneath the gaze of the Emperor. Every second that passed felt like an eternity of anxiousness as the Emperor sat aback in his Throne.

"I see..." he spoke "Whom is it those savage beasts wish to support? For them to act out of the kindness of their heart alone is ludicrous.@

"The Mages, Eternal Emperor. They appear to have sent an envoy to the High Council of Mages to show dedication"

"How charitable" the Emperor mentioned "But an envoy? No armed force to fully assist in the attempt to crush the rebels?"

"No, My Most Greatest of All Lords, they appear not to"

"Then we shall have to beat them to having the Mages align with us." he said, rising from his Throne and taking steps towards Zae. He felt his heart race as the Incarnate God walked towards him. Even from a distance, the 6'2 Zae was dwarfed by the Emperor Inquisitor, alert the Grand Warmaster to ready an Imperial Legion for immediate departure to Tyrandia. The Morkanshi march with nothing to offer while we have a Legion to join their cause."

"Yes, Most Eternal One, it shall be done at once" Zae answered, bowing as far down as he could go before turning to leave.

"Final note, Inquisitor Zae'Utt'Tae" the Emperor spoke, prompting Zae to stop mid step. The Eternal Emperor knew his name? His heart beat rose again as the Emperor finished speaking;

"Do not withhold information in dramatic fashion again" he spoke, before dismissing Zae, whose bones and soul froze in terror of the Emperor's ominous threat.

*Note: An Imperial Legion ranges in size from 5,000 to 10,000 men

[Tyrandia]

23rd Day of the 6th Month, High Magoi Council, Tykare
"We must consider this option wisely... should we allow them to bring in their foreign faith, it could lead to our magic being threatened due to faith! We must remain neutral to all beliefs!" Yelled one of the members of the high council, known as Magister Arkrat.

"We see reason... they are willing to help us deal with these rebels, whom wish to destroy our ways of life. Perhaps by allowing them to come, we would be able to ensure that these rebels never raise their weapons again." Responded another member of the high council, Magister Krannis.

"But by allowing them to practice their faith, we risk allowing faith to overrun magic as a whole!" Arkrat yelled back.

"Silence, dear magisters..." said one voice from the centre of the room, Grand Magister Sokia, "Listen... perhaps we can come up with a compromise. We would invite one to visit our state, and demonstrate their teachings. We would discuss their option and negotiate. We would make requests, and give concessions... but we will not give up our way of life. Agreed?" She stated bluntly, to the whole rooms cheer. "Then it is decided! We shall allow them to send a delegation where we shall discuss the options in details, send out the messenger! Soon these rebels shall be defeated."

Immediately, a guard ran out of the room to contact a messenger to send towards Mokranshi with the news.

30th Day of the Sixth Month, outskirts of Kotan Kane

'Hold the cow, blessed Farseer. Keep talking to it. It seems to be working. She's calm as can be.'
'As you say, herder. How are things on your end of the beast?'
'Not to worry, blessed Farseer. I've seen my fair share of birthings. This one's a little earlier than expected, but otherwise the old girl is doing just fine. And the calf...is...done!'

Resak heard a bout of high-pitched braying as the yak calf took its first gasps of air. With the politics of the realm having dulled recently, and no word from the south yet, the Farseer had elected to help the common folk of Kotan Kane with their work. He found that it kept him grounded and engendered goodwill in the populace towards him. For the time being, he was helping a yak herder with a cow of his, as the beast had gone into labor.

The herder made his way around the tired cow with a sopping wet and still braying calf in his arms. He squatted next to Resak and said 'Bless you for your help, Farseer. You made the whole ordeal much easier. I daresay you'd make a fine herder. Never seen the old girl remain so calm during birth.' Resak replied, 'You're most welcome, my good man. I am always glad to be of assistance to the children of Mulcarn.' He heard a grunt and felt a tug at his sleeve. Resak turned to see the cow chewing on his leather robe, where he promptly pulled back. The herder guffawed. 'Ha! Looks like the old girl has taken a liking to you! I'd best hand over the calf to her.' The herder placed the calf on its own unsteady hooves, where the cow began to lick her young clean.

Both the herder and Resak stood up and dusted themselves off. The herder spoke up, 'That's a job well done I'd say, blessed Farseer. A thousand thanks for your help once again, blessed Farseer. If you have the time, I'd love to invite you back to my hut and reward you proper. My wives make a delicious lichen soup!'

It was then that the two of them heard the sound of hooves on snow. They both ruined to see a homigor messenger running towards the Farseer. The boy stopped with a bow and said, 'Blessed Farseer, a message for you. Flown in by a raven just now.' The messenger handed Resak a parchment, with the seal of the Magoi. He looked at it for a moment before replying, 'Thank you, messenger. That will be all.' The boy bowed before clomping back towards Kotan Kane. Then, the Farseer turned to the yak herder. 'I am sorry, my good man, but I must return to the city. My divine purpose calls me.' The herder bowed low and replied, 'Of course, blessed Farseer. Thank you again for your help.'

Farseer Resak finally made it back inside the halls of the Grand Temple about an hour later. Elder Wandersnow and Elder Aknar were waiting for him. 'I take it since the two of you are here that you know why I have returned?'
Elder Wandersnow nodded. 'I heard of the message's arrival, blessed Farseer. I imagined now was a good time to confer with you about our next move, depending on the Council's reply.'
'And I have returned to try and dissuade you from making what would be an unstrategic decision, blessed Farseer.' He side eyed Wandersnow as he spoke. 'Moreover, I have found information you might find interesting. It concerns the resistance.'
The Farseer looked at the two Elders before continuing. 'Very well. You wish to advise? Follow me.'

The three of them made their way into the Farseer's personal chambers, whereupon Resak broke open the seal and read the reply of the Magoi, his brow furrowing as he went down the parchment. Finally, he rolled it back up and said, 'It seems that the Council is open to the possibility of an alliance. But there are some stipulations. First and foremost, they want a demonstration.'
'A demonstration? Of what?', said Wandersnow.
'Of our faith, our teachings, and likely our magecraft. They want to see what we would be bringing into their capital. They request that we send a delegation for the purposes of this demonstration and to discuss the details of this alliance. Namely, they want to discuss options and requests, as well as concessions.'
'It sounds like the Council wants less an alliance of mutual benefit and more one of convenience, blessed Farseer', said Aknar.
'And what exactly would you propose, Elder Aknar, since you seem so keen on berating this possible alliance', replied Wandersnow.
Akbar turned with a glint in his eyes. 'I'm glad you asked, Elder Wandersnow.'

Elder Aknar drew a dusty map from his robes and unfurled it on the Farseer's desk. On it was a somewhat rudimentary map of Tyrandia. 'Now, blessed Farseer, as you know, the district of Keprain is under siege from all sides by the Tyrandians. They aim to make sure that no one gets in or out. However, no siege is completely impenetrable. My informants tell me that there is a weak spot, here.' Aknar pointed to a spot on the border between Keprain and Tyrandia. 'My sources tell me that the Tyrandian forces are spread somewhat thin here. Patrols are not as common and watchmen are fewer in number. With proper care, we could slip a few of our delegates through this crack, and from there, they have a proper chance of contacting the rebels.'

'Truly, the Summer Plague must have taken you, Aknar, if you believe this is a sound plan', said Wandersnow. 'Such a plot would jeopardize our negotiations with the Tyrandians. And there's no guarantee the rebels would even meet with our men. If they don't and the Tyrandians find out, then we will have lost any opportunity to spread the faith to Tyrandia!'
'And if we take the harmless approach, assuming everything goes well, then we will only manage to convert a few thousand souls at best. The Tyrandians would never agree to a greater missionary presence if they knew the cost of becoming Winterborn.'
'Which is why, unlike you, Aknar, I don't plan to plot in the shadows. We will show the Tyrandians exactly what we offer, and all the benefits they will reap, should they agree.'
'The Kepraini have far, far more to gain from an alliance.' Aknar turned to Resak. 'What would you rather have, blessed Farseer? A few thousand followers in a civilization of millions that would revile them, or the faith of an entire country?'
'A country that has no formal ruler or recognition, blessed Farseer', Wandersnow interjected.

The Farseer spoke up. 'Do now worry, Elders. I will not waste any opportunity given to me. The way I see it, nothing is guaranteed, as nothing has been promised by either side. If we keep our options open, then we stand to make the most of this. Here's my decision: I will organize a convoy bound to Tyrandia. It will consist of a handful of our mages, our diplomats, and our Messengers. Officially, their objective will be to reach Tykare to try and negotiate a deal with the High Magoi Council. Unofficially, the objective of a few of these representatives will be to infiltrate the district of Keprain and establish contact with the rebels. I will select the representatives who will meet with the council. Elder Aknar, you will find those you can trust with the utmost discretion and secrecy. As the caravan makes its way through Tyrandia and closer to this supposed weak spot, your agents will happen to become separated from the rest of the convoy, where they will somehow end up crossing the Tyrandian-Kepraini border. From there, you know what will happen next. I trust you with properly informing these agents of their mission.'

Aknar bowed before the Farseer. 'Yes, blessed Farseer. It shall be done.' The Elder turned and left while Wandersnow watched. When Akbar had left the chambers, he turned to Resak and said, 'Blessed Farseer, far be it from me to question your wise judgement, but is it the best idea to try and secretly negotiate with two warring powers at once?'
Resak said, 'There can be no gain without risk, Elder. If we do not seize the chance to bring others into Mulcarn's winter, then we have failed as His children. Now, pardon me, but I have a convoy to organize.' As he made his way out, he paused. 'Seeing as we're in negotiations with the Magoi of all people, I think it best to show them the true extent of Mokrani power. They are hard to impress, after all. Do you think that they would be swayed by witnessing the Gift?'
'For power-hungry mage-kings? I think so, though I can't guarantee it. They love their magic like nothing else in this world, so I don't know how they would feel about losing the other schools in exchange for unrivaled cryomancy.'
'Magic is magic, Elder. This just might work. Fetch one of the Lost Mokrani* prisoners from the keep. They will be our demonstration.'
'Them? But wouldn't you rather have a willing participant, blessed Farseer?'
'As much as I would, I'm afraid we don't have time to convince them before negotiations begin. You'll have to take precautions, as I doubt they'll come quietly.'
'Yes, blessed Farseer. I will order a guard to fetch one of the Lost Mokrani immediately.'

One hour later...

The yak herder sat around the ice pit, with his two wives beside him, one on each side. Around the hut, his five children screamed and chattered in their play. Finally, he clopped his hooves on the floor and called them to supper, whereupon they quickly organized them selves into a circle around the pit. One of the herder's wives stood and dipped into the pot, pouring bowls of cool lichen soup and passing them around. The herder took his first gulp of the mixture and sighed. 'Delicious as always, dear. Thank you.' His wife smiled, at least to the extent that a kaprogor could smile. It was then that they heard a knock on the door. 'I'll get it', said the herder. He stood on his hooves and made his way to the front of the hut. He opened the door to see Farseer Resak standing there. 'Oh, blessed Farseer!' The herder bowed low, while Resak spoke up. 'Rise. I have come to ask you of something.'
'Of course, blessed Farseer. Whatever you wish.'

The Farseer cleared his throat. 'How much for your strongest yaks?'

Meanwhile...

Bataar desperately huddled for warmth around the makeshift fire. Despite the fact that his captors allowed him limited heat, the overwhelming cold around him made it almost pointless. It had been a week since the snow demons had found him. Like an idiot, he strayed a bit too far from the cave where his tribe lived, and was spotted by a patrol. They brought him to what he believed was their capital, and locked him away. At first, they tried interrogating him, then torturing him, on the whereabouts of his tribe, but he did not break. Since then, they've been keeping him in captivity, his only company being the occasional guard and the shamans who visited him and tried to convince him to convert. None of it worked. He would not become like them.

Bataar wasn't sure how much longer he would last caged like this. The rations were too little as they were, and he swore they were slowly reducing them. Probably to break him. They wouldn't work. They wouldn't work. They wouldn't...the sound of his cage door rattling open disturbed his concentration, as a hulking rhinogor stepped in. The beast uttered something in its foul language, something Bataar didn't understand. He growled back at him in Mokrani, 'There is no other tribe, and I will not become one of you demons.' All the rhinogor seemed to do was grunt and approach Bataar, a cudgel in hand. He tried weakly to shield himself, but the cudgel came down all the same. It landed square on his head, and everything went black.

15th Day of the 7th Month, Tykare
The caravan is welcomed into the Magical City of Tykare, greeted by a group of Magoi who are escorted by guards wearing armour covering them entirely. They stop the moment the Magoi leading the group moves his hand, then he and his group steps forward to greet the guests.

"Welcome visitors." He does a slight bow, "I welcome you to our illustrious capital. I heard that there were some problems on your journey when travelling near the conflict zone? I must apologise for that, I do hope your people are fine..." his eyes analyse the visitor before continuing, "I am Magoi Zequta, and I shall be your escort through the city." He begins to walk, leading the caravan towards the lodgings where they will be staying. "I understand your journey was long, we've prepared accommodations for your people, it is nice and cold; as your, uh... people, like it." He forces a smile. "You will have the rest of the day to rest, and tomorrow morning you will be summoned by the council in order to make your statements and perform your presentation... any questions?" He asks while continuing to guide them.

The city around them is full of life; merchants are trading odd wares, people are dancing and cheering, magical experiments are being done publicly, and all the while the crowds are enjoying themselves - forgetting about the world outside of the walls of this city, as if the civil war never started, as if this city were all that mattered in the world.

[Keprain]

23rd Day of the 6th Month, High Magoi Council, Tykare
"We must consider this option wisely... should we allow them to bring in their foreign faith, it could lead to our magic being threatened due to faith! We must remain neutral to all beliefs!" Yelled one of the members of the high council, known as Magister Arkrat.

"We see reason... they are willing to help us deal with these rebels, whom wish to destroy our ways of life. Perhaps by allowing them to come, we would be able to ensure that these rebels never raise their weapons again." Responded another member of the high council, Magister Krannis.

"But by allowing them to practice their faith, we risk allowing faith to overrun magic as a whole!" Arkrat yelled back.

"Silence, dear magisters..." said one voice from the centre of the room, Grand Magister Sokia, "Listen... perhaps we can come up with a compromise. We would invite one to visit our state, and demonstrate their teachings. We would discuss their option and negotiate. We would make requests, and give concessions... but we will not give up our way of life. Agreed?" She stated bluntly, to the whole rooms cheer. "Then it is decided! We shall allow them to send a delegation where we shall discuss the options in details, send out the messenger! Soon these rebels shall be defeated."

Immediately, a guard ran out of the room to contact a messenger to send towards Mokranshi with the news.

30th Day of the Sixth Month, outskirts of Kotan Kane

'Hold the cow, blessed Farseer. Keep talking to it. It seems to be working. She's calm as can be.'
'As you say, herder. How are things on your end of the beast?'
'Not to worry, blessed Farseer. I've seen my fair share of birthings. This one's a little earlier than expected, but otherwise the old girl is doing just fine. And the calf...is...done!'

Resak heard a bout of high-pitched braying as the yak calf took its first gasps of air. With the politics of the realm having dulled recently, and no word from the south yet, the Farseer had elected to help the common folk of Kotan Kane with their work. He found that it kept him grounded and engendered goodwill in the populace towards him. For the time being, he was helping a yak herder with a cow of his, as the beast had gone into labor.

The herder made his way around the tired cow with a sopping wet and still braying calf in his arms. He squatted next to Resak and said 'Bless you for your help, Farseer. You made the whole ordeal much easier. I daresay you'd make a fine herder. Never seen the old girl remain so calm during birth.' Resak replied, 'You're most welcome, my good man. I am always glad to be of assistance to the children of Mulcarn.' He heard a grunt and felt a tug at his sleeve. Resak turned to see the cow chewing on his leather robe, where he promptly pulled back. The herder guffawed. 'Ha! Looks like the old girl has taken a liking to you! I'd best hand over the calf to her.' The herder placed the calf on its own unsteady hooves, where the cow began to lick her young clean.

Both the herder and Resak stood up and dusted themselves off. The herder spoke up, 'That's a job well done I'd say, blessed Farseer. A thousand thanks for your help once again, blessed Farseer. If you have the time, I'd love to invite you back to my hut and reward you proper. My wives make a delicious lichen soup!'

It was then that the two of them heard the sound of hooves on snow. They both ruined to see a homigor messenger running towards the Farseer. The boy stopped with a bow and said, 'Blessed Farseer, a message for you. Flown in by a raven just now.' The messenger handed Resak a parchment, with the seal of the Magoi. He looked at it for a moment before replying, 'Thank you, messenger. That will be all.' The boy bowed before clomping back towards Kotan Kane. Then, the Farseer turned to the yak herder. 'I am sorry, my good man, but I must return to the city. My divine purpose calls me.' The herder bowed low and replied, 'Of course, blessed Farseer. Thank you again for your help.'

Farseer Resak finally made it back inside the halls of the Grand Temple about an hour later. Elder Wandersnow and Elder Aknar were waiting for him. 'I take it since the two of you are here that you know why I have returned?'
Elder Wandersnow nodded. 'I heard of the message's arrival, blessed Farseer. I imagined now was a good time to confer with you about our next move, depending on the Council's reply.'
'And I have returned to try and dissuade you from making what would be an unstrategic decision, blessed Farseer.' He side eyed Wandersnow as he spoke. 'Moreover, I have found information you might find interesting. It concerns the resistance.'
The Farseer looked at the two Elders before continuing. 'Very well. You wish to advise? Follow me.'

The three of them made their way into the Farseer's personal chambers, whereupon Resak broke open the seal and read the reply of the Magoi, his brow furrowing as he went down the parchment. Finally, he rolled it back up and said, 'It seems that the Council is open to the possibility of an alliance. But there are some stipulations. First and foremost, they want a demonstration.'
'A demonstration? Of what?', said Wandersnow.
'Of our faith, our teachings, and likely our magecraft. They want to see what we would be bringing into their capital. They request that we send a delegation for the purposes of this demonstration and to discuss the details of this alliance. Namely, they want to discuss options and requests, as well as concessions.'
'It sounds like the Council wants less an alliance of mutual benefit and more one of convenience, blessed Farseer', said Aknar.
'And what exactly would you propose, Elder Aknar, since you seem so keen on berating this possible alliance', replied Wandersnow.
Akbar turned with a glint in his eyes. 'I'm glad you asked, Elder Wandersnow.'

Elder Aknar drew a dusty map from his robes and unfurled it on the Farseer's desk. On it was a somewhat rudimentary map of Tyrandia. 'Now, blessed Farseer, as you know, the district of Keprain is under siege from all sides by the Tyrandians. They aim to make sure that no one gets in or out. However, no siege is completely impenetrable. My informants tell me that there is a weak spot, here.' Aknar pointed to a spot on the border between Keprain and Tyrandia. 'My sources tell me that the Tyrandian forces are spread somewhat thin here. Patrols are not as common and watchmen are fewer in number. With proper care, we could slip a few of our delegates through this crack, and from there, they have a proper chance of contacting the rebels.'

'Truly, the Summer Plague must have taken you, Aknar, if you believe this is a sound plan', said Wandersnow. 'Such a plot would jeopardize our negotiations with the Tyrandians. And there's no guarantee the rebels would even meet with our men. If they don't and the Tyrandians find out, then we will have lost any opportunity to spread the faith to Tyrandia!'
'And if we take the harmless approach, assuming everything goes well, then we will only manage to convert a few thousand souls at best. The Tyrandians would never agree to a greater missionary presence if they knew the cost of becoming Winterborn.'
'Which is why, unlike you, Aknar, I don't plan to plot in the shadows. We will show the Tyrandians exactly what we offer, and all the benefits they will reap, should they agree.'
'The Kepraini have far, far more to gain from an alliance.' Aknar turned to Resak. 'What would you rather have, blessed Farseer? A few thousand followers in a civilization of millions that would revile them, or the faith of an entire country?'
'A country that has no formal ruler or recognition, blessed Farseer', Wandersnow interjected.

The Farseer spoke up. 'Do now worry, Elders. I will not waste any opportunity given to me. The way I see it, nothing is guaranteed, as nothing has been promised by either side. If we keep our options open, then we stand to make the most of this. Here's my decision: I will organize a convoy bound to Tyrandia. It will consist of a handful of our mages, our diplomats, and our Messengers. Officially, their objective will be to reach Tykare to try and negotiate a deal with the High Magoi Council. Unofficially, the objective of a few of these representatives will be to infiltrate the district of Keprain and establish contact with the rebels. I will select the representatives who will meet with the council. Elder Aknar, you will find those you can trust with the utmost discretion and secrecy. As the caravan makes its way through Tyrandia and closer to this supposed weak spot, your agents will happen to become separated from the rest of the convoy, where they will somehow end up crossing the Tyrandian-Kepraini border. From there, you know what will happen next. I trust you with properly informing these agents of their mission.'

Aknar bowed before the Farseer. 'Yes, blessed Farseer. It shall be done.' The Elder turned and left while Wandersnow watched. When Akbar had left the chambers, he turned to Resak and said, 'Blessed Farseer, far be it from me to question your wise judgement, but is it the best idea to try and secretly negotiate with two warring powers at once?'
Resak said, 'There can be no gain without risk, Elder. If we do not seize the chance to bring others into Mulcarn's winter, then we have failed as His children. Now, pardon me, but I have a convoy to organize.' As he made his way out, he paused. 'Seeing as we're in negotiations with the Magoi of all people, I think it best to show them the true extent of Mokrani power. They are hard to impress, after all. Do you think that they would be swayed by witnessing the Gift?'
'For power-hungry mage-kings? I think so, though I can't guarantee it. They love their magic like nothing else in this world, so I don't know how they would feel about losing the other schools in exchange for unrivaled cryomancy.'
'Magic is magic, Elder. This just might work. Fetch one of the Lost Mokrani* prisoners from the keep. They will be our demonstration.'
'Them? But wouldn't you rather have a willing participant, blessed Farseer?'
'As much as I would, I'm afraid we don't have time to convince them before negotiations begin. You'll have to take precautions, as I doubt they'll come quietly.'
'Yes, blessed Farseer. I will order a guard to fetch one of the Lost Mokrani immediately.'

One hour later...

The yak herder sat around the ice pit, with his two wives beside him, one on each side. Around the hut, his five children screamed and chattered in their play. Finally, he clopped his hooves on the floor and called them to supper, whereupon they quickly organized them selves into a circle around the pit. One of the herder's wives stood and dipped into the pot, pouring bowls of cool lichen soup and passing them around. The herder took his first gulp of the mixture and sighed. 'Delicious as always, dear. Thank you.' His wife smiled, at least to the extent that a kaprogor could smile. It was then that they heard a knock on the door. 'I'll get it', said the herder. He stood on his hooves and made his way to the front of the hut. He opened the door to see Farseer Resak standing there. 'Oh, blessed Farseer!' The herder bowed low, while Resak spoke up. 'Rise. I have come to ask you of something.'
'Of course, blessed Farseer. Whatever you wish.'

The Farseer cleared his throat. 'How much for your strongest yaks?'

Meanwhile...

Bataar desperately huddled for warmth around the makeshift fire. Despite the fact that his captors allowed him limited heat, the overwhelming cold around him made it almost pointless. It had been a week since the snow demons had found him. Like an idiot, he strayed a bit too far from the cave where his tribe lived, and was spotted by a patrol. They brought him to what he believed was their capital, and locked him away. At first, they tried interrogating him, then torturing him, on the whereabouts of his tribe, but he did not break. Since then, they've been keeping him in captivity, his only company being the occasional guard and the shamans who visited him and tried to convince him to convert. None of it worked. He would not become like them.

Bataar wasn't sure how much longer he would last caged like this. The rations were too little as they were, and he swore they were slowly reducing them. Probably to break him. They wouldn't work. They wouldn't work. They wouldn't...the sound of his cage door rattling open disturbed his concentration, as a hulking rhinogor stepped in. The beast uttered something in its foul language, something Bataar didn't understand. He growled back at him in Mokrani, 'There is no other tribe, and I will not become one of you demons.' All the rhinogor seemed to do was grunt and approach Bataar, a cudgel in hand. He tried weakly to shield himself, but the cudgel came down all the same. It landed square on his head, and everything went black.

15th Day of the 7th Month, Kepraini Mountain Range
"Hey! Gregal! I caught one!" Cheered a young girl running towards a large man who knelt down to pat her on the head. She looked up with a smile, handing him a small wooden crate, with shuffling on the inside.

"That is wonderful Caella!" He reached out and examined the crate, opening it slightly to examine the contents. "This is a great catch! This little fella will enjoy his new life within the mountains, away from those who would do it harm." He smiled gently, "Your parents would be proud..." on that note, Caella frowned a bit, before being comforted by a gentle hug. "Don't worry, Caella. All of us are a family now, you, me - all the refugees and people in these mountains. We were united for a cause of bringing equality to this realm, and we will always be with our own." They both smiled together.

"Okay Gregal! Can I join you next time you leave the mountains?" She hopped up and down in place.

"Maybe when you're a bit older, Caella! You still have to--" Before he was able to finish his sentence, he was cut off by the sound of running.

"Gregal! Gregal! We've got sightings on a group of northerners walking through the mountain pass!" A man came into view, hopping down from a makeshift patrol path.

"Northerners? Here? What could they want? Are they perhaps working with the Magoi?" Gregal stood, preparing himself for an outing.

"We don't know, we saw a group of them moving with the Magoi, but these ones seem to have gotten separated from their caravan, when issues were happening. We are unsure how they got lost... but they haven't acted hostile yet. What should we do?"

"Keep following them, ensure they don't make their way to the village. Send some people ahead, make their path difficult to traverse, forcing them towards the glimmering caverns, by the great falls."

"Right! We'll get right to it!" He said before running off."

Gregal turned towards Caella before patting her on the head again, getting up. "Sorry Caella, we'll catch up a bit more later! Get this little guy to safety!" He handed her back the crate and ran off.

"Good luck Gregal!" She yelled, waving goodbye.

[Octersistanistan]

Admiral-Governor Jush
Jush: Another rebellion. Where do these come from?

Yeah, the government of Octersistanistan is concerned on this matter of action. Soo. We’re concerned.

Do they have demands or any political reason?

Our Empire has lived for more than 300 years and we discussed rebellions with Political terms.

So try some offers.

[Mokranshi]

15th Day of the 7th Month, Tykare
The caravan is welcomed into the Magical City of Tykare, greeted by a group of Magoi who are escorted by guards wearing armour covering them entirely. They stop the moment the Magoi leading the group moves his hand, then he and his group steps forward to greet the guests.

"Welcome visitors." He does a slight bow, "I welcome you to our illustrious capital. I heard that there were some problems on your journey when travelling near the conflict zone? I must apologise for that, I do hope your people are fine..." his eyes analyse the visitor before continuing, "I am Magoi Zequta, and I shall be your escort through the city." He begins to walk, leading the caravan towards the lodgings where they will be staying. "I understand your journey was long, we've prepared accommodations for your people, it is nice and cold; as your, uh... people, like it." He forces a smile. "You will have the rest of the day to rest, and tomorrow morning you will be summoned by the council in order to make your statements and perform your presentation... any questions?" He asks while continuing to guide them.

The city around them is full of life; merchants are trading odd wares, people are dancing and cheering, magical experiments are being done publicly, and all the while the crowds are enjoying themselves - forgetting about the world outside of the walls of this city, as if the civil war never started, as if this city were all that mattered in the world.

The human at the front of the caravan dismounted himself from the yak he was riding and stood before the Magoi and their guards. He wore a leather jerkin flecked with white feathers and had a short-cut beard and long white hair tied into a ponytail. His mouth was curled into a disarming smile. From the largest of the covered sleds in the caravan, two heavily armed bovigors emerged and moved to stand behind the man. The rest of the caravan stood still as the man began to speak.

'Greetings, good Magoi Zequta. May Mulcarn bless your path. A great honor it is to finally meet our auspicious hosts. My name is Pasekur Iyoype, faithful Messenger of Mulcarn and chosen emissary of Mokranshi to the great state of Tyrandia.' Pasekur offers a bow before crossing his fist upon his chest. 'Yes, I am afraid so. While we were nearing the conflict zone, our caravan was savagely attacked by mage-brigands. Rebels looking for resources, likely. While we were able to scare them off, praise Mulcarn, we lost three of our own in the chaos. But now is not the time to dwell on lives that have already ended. We thank you for the lodgings. Our men shall begin unloading our supplies forthwith.'

He turned and yelled an order to the various men and homigors on the caravan, who began to unpack boxes of supplies and foodstuffs. Pasekur then turned back to the Magoi. 'We also humbly thank you for your guidance. I'm sure very many of us would enjoy the opportunity for respite. The journey has been long, despite the great speed of our yaks.' Pasekur petted the large bull next to him. 'Speaking of which, I'm afraid I must make a few requests, if you would permit me. Our herd is as tired as the rest of us, and we would humbly ask of the whereabouts of your stables, that they may rest as well.'

It was then that a muffled shout was heard from the sled farthest back. A kaprogor dragged out an unfamiliar man who was bound with a sack around his head. What little of his appearance was shown indicated that he was not a native Tyrandian, yet he was also obviously not Winterborn. Pasekur piped up, 'Ah, yes, and there is one more request I must make. Do not be alarmed. He is one of our own. To the extent that he can be, at least. But I can assure you that he is Mokrani. We're afraid that we had to bind him like this, as he threatened to harm our men the whole way here. This man will be important for the summons tomorrow, but for now, we require a place for him to stay. Since he has shown an unwillingness to be civil with us, we kindly request permission to put him away in your dungeons, just until tomorrow.' Pasekur offered a gentle smile.

'Once we have sorted out the accomodations, I'm sure that many of us would enjoy perusing the wonders of Tykare.' Pasekur made a grand gesture with hands towards the city. 'We wait your guidance, good Magoi Zequta.'

[Mokranshi]

15th Day of the 7th Month, Kepraini Mountain Range
"Hey! Gregal! I caught one!" Cheered a young girl running towards a large man who knelt down to pat her on the head. She looked up with a smile, handing him a small wooden crate, with shuffling on the inside.

"That is wonderful Caella!" He reached out and examined the crate, opening it slightly to examine the contents. "This is a great catch! This little fella will enjoy his new life within the mountains, away from those who would do it harm." He smiled gently, "Your parents would be proud..." on that note, Caella frowned a bit, before being comforted by a gentle hug. "Don't worry, Caella. All of us are a family now, you, me - all the refugees and people in these mountains. We were united for a cause of bringing equality to this realm, and we will always be with our own." They both smiled together.

"Okay Gregal! Can I join you next time you leave the mountains?" She hopped up and down in place.

"Maybe when you're a bit older, Caella! You still have to--" Before he was able to finish his sentence, he was cut off by the sound of running.

"Gregal! Gregal! We've got sightings on a group of northerners walking through the mountain pass!" A man came into view, hopping down from a makeshift patrol path.

"Northerners? Here? What could they want? Are they perhaps working with the Magoi?" Gregal stood, preparing himself for an outing.

"We don't know, we saw a group of them moving with the Magoi, but these ones seem to have gotten separated from their caravan, when issues were happening. We are unsure how they got lost... but they haven't acted hostile yet. What should we do?"

"Keep following them, ensure they don't make their way to the village. Send some people ahead, make their path difficult to traverse, forcing them towards the glimmering caverns, by the great falls."

"Right! We'll get right to it!" He said before running off."

Gregal turned towards Caella before patting her on the head again, getting up. "Sorry Caella, we'll catch up a bit more later! Get this little guy to safety!" He handed her back the crate and ran off.

"Good luck Gregal!" She yelled, waving goodbye.

'Are they gone?'

A young Winterborn man looked towards the woman in front of them. 'Do you see the caravan?' The three agents stood near still while the woman in front scanned the horizon. The three of them had been waiting in the heights of the mountain range for several hours. The mission required that as few people knew of their mission as possible. Elder Aknar had arranged a plan for them to sneak away. When the caravan stopped in the mountain range, Ahiki, the spymaster and stealthiest of the trio, had snuck away targeted a rather powerful blizzard spell towards the caravan, ambiguous enough that it could've been mistaken to be cast by a rebel mage in hiding. In the chaos, the three of them managed to slip away. As far as Pasekur knew, rebel mages had ambushed them and kidnapped three helpless caravan hands, or they had just been lost. In any case, the caravan did not leave quickly. They stood their ground for several hours scouring the range for the three of them. It was only at nightfall that they decided to keep moving, leaving the agents behind.

'It seems so, Itashir. The caravan is nowhere to be seen', said Ahiki to the man. 'Looks like we ought to proceed with the mission.'

'Stay yourself, Ahiki', interrupted Penanpe, the woman to the left of Itashir. 'I think I saw something. Or someone for that matter. A native, looked like a man. He ran off before I could get a good look at him, however. I think it's best that we keep a close guard for the time being.'

Itashir responded with, 'We can't stay here forever. We've lost near half the day just trying to stay out of sight of the caravan lookouts. Those kaprogors are relentless. Our rations will only last so long. We better start moving while it's cold. Nightfall will be upon us soon.'

'I agree', said Ahiki. 'But that lone native still raises some concerns. We move out before nightfall begins, but keep an eagle's eye out. We can't have any surprises.'

Ahiki would've preferred to work alone on this mission, but Elder Aknar stressed the diplomatic side of it, and assigned her a Messenger to her team, that being Itashir. As for Penanpe, well, she was probably the best suited to travel south, being a seasoned scout of several missionary treks. It helped that the two of them were from the Casi tribe as well. As far as Itashir went, he was just a burden, at least in Ahiki's eyes. The Messenger had only the barest sense of stealth and spywork. But that was all besides the point.

Penanpe spoke up, 'I think I spot a light in the distance. Looks like a native village. While I think it best that we avoid being seen for now, they're probably out best option if we're to find out about the resistance.'

'If that's the case, then we ought to meet the villagers directly. Most Kepraini are associated with the rebellion, yes? The quickest way to find out about the rebel's leadership would be to ingratiate ourselves with the natives', said Itashir.

'Look at yourself', Ahiki interjected. 'You're blue. I'm blue. Penanpe is a solid white. They'd pick us out as Mokrani in an instant. Warmbloods don't look like this. I seriously doubt that your local Kepraini will listen to a northerner who just strides into their village. We'll have to find some other way.'

'That's exactly it! There is no other way. The leadership won't meet with us directly. We have to start at the roots if we are to meet with them. Mulcarn's horns, Ahiki, it's like you've never met a southerner.'

Ahiki narrowed her gaze. 'Nonetheless, we should start moving. The moon had already begun to rise, and it won't be long before it's too dark to see.'

Some time later...

'Well, that certainly proves the resistance is active here', said Penanpe.

The trio had come to a complete stop in their journey as they stood before a pile of rocks. The mountain pass they were on had been completely sealed off by a rock-slide.

'Oh, come now. Rocks fall off of mountains all the time. How do we know this wasn't a natural occurrence?', asked Itashir.

Penanpe pointed upwards at the ledge. 'Look. The ledge has been tampered with. Those are artificial cracks in at the cliff. Someone deliberately broke apart the edge so as to create a chain reaction and cause these rocks to come tumbling into the pass.'

Ahiki looked around. 'In any case, this pass is no good. we'll have to scale the cliffside. Penanpe, you and I will scale first. When we're at the top, we'll toss down a rope for you, Itashir. From there, we keep moving.'

Even more time later...

The rocky mountain path gave way to dense woodland as the trio continued to make their way towards civilization. Their journey was quickly hampered by the increasing darkness and the lack of visibility, of which the forest did nothing to help. Every sound was a potential hostile, every shadow a spy, at least in the eyes of Ahiki and Penanpe. Itashir seemed uncomfortably confident about the whole venture, which may have explained how he got himself caught in a snare and was now hanging upside-down from a tree. Penanpe was in the process of trying to cut the rope and let him down.

'Honestly, Messenger, why did the Elder choose you of all people?', sighed Penanpe. 'Were there no better ones available? Or at least ones with better sense?'

'The blessed Elder chose me because there is no better orator who can also keep a secret. Besides, it's not like you two would have any luck convincing the resistance not to kill you on sight. Regardless of how things look right now, you'll need me for when you inevitably meet with the rebels and their leader. It's not like either of you speak the local language anywAAAH!' Itashir fell back to earth with a yelp as the rope was at last severed. Penanpe let out a chortle at the sight.

Ahiki rolled her eyes at her companions. This whole episode seemed almost farcical, like a bad tale told by her uncle around the ice pit. Itashir stood up and brushed himself off, attempting to regain his dignity. When Penanpe got down from the tree as well, the spymaster said, 'I would remind you two that the goal is to remain out of sight until we can find the resistance.'

Itashir looked at her. 'I wouldn't worry too much, spymaster. It's quite late, we're in the middle of the highlands, and -' <thunk>

The Messenger was interrupted by an arrow embedding itself in a nearby tree. Penanpe glanced at it. 'I would take that as a signal to make ourselves scarce.'

Quick as a sea eagle, the trio began sprinting through the forest. Penanpe spotted a river with a cave nearby. Pointing, she shouted, 'Look, there! We can take cover!' The three of them turned towards the odd-looking cave and ducked inside. Once they were sure the danger had passed, they composed themselves. Itashir was the first to speak up. 'Why would anyone be hunting this late at night?'

Ahiki guessed, 'Probably because someone knows we're here. I don't think it's a coincidence that we were spotted several hours ago and now we have a hunting party nearby.'

Penanpe prodded her two companions. 'Ahiki, Itashir, do you two notice something odd about this cave?' She gestured towards the walls of the cavern, which were lined with shimmering crystals that gave it an eerie glow. Moreso, the cave was larger than expected. None of them could see where it ended. Strangest of all, something was emitting a sound somewhere in the caverns.

'I'll take first position', said Ahiki. 'Itashir, stay behind me. Penanpe, you take the rear. Arm yourselves and be ready. I don't think we're alone.'

[Tyrandia]

The Immortal City, Fyrae
6th Day of the 7th Month

The Immortal City, as the capital of Fyrae was known, was a city steeped in sin and wickedness, it's buildings made of black stone and its muddied streets running through the city as a web of narrow passages and dangerous journeys, with the risk of being robbed or killed at every corner. And at its every heart sat the Eternal Palace, the beating heart of the entire wicked Empire. The Palace was a monolithic pyramid made of the darkest stone, with balconies appearing at different levels for whenever the Eternal Emperor wished to have fresh air. The entire structure was a testament to the self-indulgence and the egotistical nature of the Fyrae'ii.

Quickly hurrying up the steps to the Immortal Throne room, Inquisitor Zae'Utt'Tae heard his steps echo in the grandiose halls of the Palace. He felt his heart race to arrive early to his appointment with the Eternal Emperor, whom rarely granted audiences to those outside of the Council, and whose favour was needed for any hope of advancement in this world. Arriving in the Throne room, he was in awe of what he saw. A long hall stretched on, lined on both sides with pillars of gold. It's walls were a faded red and decorated with the skulls of various beasts and banners that the Emperor had slain or vanquished over his long life. And at the end of the hall sat Him, the Eternal Emperor himself. Sat upon a throne of black stone, with his sigil carved into the stone above him and the heads of beasts carved into the sides with the craftsmanship of a long-dead master. The Emperor himself was clothed in a white tunic with red trimmings, paired with a set of black trousers and boots. As custom dictated, his face was covered apart from his grey eyes, as any man beneath the rank of the Ever-Changing Council were forbidden to look upon the true face of the Emperor in any field other than battle.

Zae'Utt'Tae knelt instinctively, groveling intensely at the feat of the Emperor, of whom many considered to be a God Incarnate. The Emperor bide him to rise with a motion of his hand, yet Zae still avoided direct eye contact with the Emperor as no man his low a rank was worthy of such a thing.

"Loyal Inquisitor, why is it you have requested to meet with me?" the Emperor asked, his voice as silky as any man could hope.

"My Gracious and Benevolent Emperor, I bring news from the outer-world" he reported, fighting the urge his voice felt to express his love and devotion to the Emperor, looking up at the Emperor, he saw he was given the motion to continue "Eternal Emperor, the Magoi Realm of Tyrandia to our self faces revolt of the most grievous kind. Those ungracious of the kindness displayed by their rulers have declared themselves free of some form of alleged oppression" he reported dutifully, bowing when he finished speaking. Moments passed before the Emperor spoke;

"Tell me, Inquisitor, why it is that I should care for the petty squabbling of a realm infinitely lesser than my own" the Emperor asked, causing Zar to freeze up. The God-Emperor was severely displeased.


"M-m-my Eternal Emperor, this is most important as the most hated realm of the Morkanshi appear to be at the forefront of intervention" he responded nervously, feeling himself shrink beneath the gaze of the Emperor. Every second that passed felt like an eternity of anxiousness as the Emperor sat aback in his Throne.

"I see..." he spoke "Whom is it those savage beasts wish to support? For them to act out of the kindness of their heart alone is ludicrous.@

"The Mages, Eternal Emperor. They appear to have sent an envoy to the High Council of Mages to show dedication"

"How charitable" the Emperor mentioned "But an envoy? No armed force to fully assist in the attempt to crush the rebels?"

"No, My Most Greatest of All Lords, they appear not to"

"Then we shall have to beat them to having the Mages align with us." he said, rising from his Throne and taking steps towards Zae. He felt his heart race as the Incarnate God walked towards him. Even from a distance, the 6'2 Zae was dwarfed by the Emperor Inquisitor, alert the Grand Warmaster to ready an Imperial Legion for immediate departure to Tyrandia. The Morkanshi march with nothing to offer while we have a Legion to join their cause."

"Yes, Most Eternal One, it shall be done at once" Zae answered, bowing as far down as he could go before turning to leave.

"Final note, Inquisitor Zae'Utt'Tae" the Emperor spoke, prompting Zae to stop mid step. The Eternal Emperor knew his name? His heart beat rose again as the Emperor finished speaking;

"Do not withhold information in dramatic fashion again" he spoke, before dismissing Zae, whose bones and soul froze in terror of the Emperor's ominous threat.

*Note: An Imperial Legion ranges in size from 5,000 to 10,000 men

15th Day of the 7th Month, Tykare Council Chambers; shortly after the arrival of the Mokranshi caravan
"This is fascinating news... the people of Fyrae wish to assist? They are sending a legion to aid us in our ventures... perhaps the Mokranshi are unecessary?" Says Magister Kukl aloud.

"Careful, Kukl... the Fyrae'ii are a dangerous people to get involved with. Should we accept them, it could be dangerous; it would guarantee that we would be unable to have any interactions with Aeternaea." Says Magister T'laa calmly.

"Aeternaea? You are concerned with the Aeternaeans? They will not assist, or even offer a word! They keep to themselves! Who cares if we slight them?" replies Magister Kukl.

"Calm now!" says Grand Magister Sokia, calmly. "While it is true that Aeternaea is isolationist and does not involve themselves in global affairs; they are still the most powerful nation in the world... that being said, they have not offered any assistance, and Fyrae has. We must acknowledge whom wishes to help us. Therefore, I move to letting them send their delegation, perhaps they can show that they are capable of quelling this rebellion, and then we can see what happens next."

"But --" Magister T'laa was about to say something before being cut off by a crowd of cheers in the room. It seems as if the room accepts what Sokia stated; they should allow a delegation from Fyrae, with their legion, to come and present themselves.

Magister T'laa thought to herself that this would be a horrible idea. Not only would it cut any chances of getting Aeternaean help, but it would also aggrevate tensions between Tyrandia and Mokranshi... she excused herself to go find a way to alleviate things before they got worse.

[Tyrandia]

15th Day of the 7th Month, Tykare
The caravan is welcomed into the Magical City of Tykare, greeted by a group of Magoi who are escorted by guards wearing armour covering them entirely. They stop the moment the Magoi leading the group moves his hand, then he and his group steps forward to greet the guests.

"Welcome visitors." He does a slight bow, "I welcome you to our illustrious capital. I heard that there were some problems on your journey when travelling near the conflict zone? I must apologise for that, I do hope your people are fine..." his eyes analyse the visitor before continuing, "I am Magoi Zequta, and I shall be your escort through the city." He begins to walk, leading the caravan towards the lodgings where they will be staying. "I understand your journey was long, we've prepared accommodations for your people, it is nice and cold; as your, uh... people, like it." He forces a smile. "You will have the rest of the day to rest, and tomorrow morning you will be summoned by the council in order to make your statements and perform your presentation... any questions?" He asks while continuing to guide them.

The city around them is full of life; merchants are trading odd wares, people are dancing and cheering, magical experiments are being done publicly, and all the while the crowds are enjoying themselves - forgetting about the world outside of the walls of this city, as if the civil war never started, as if this city were all that mattered in the world.

The human at the front of the caravan dismounted himself from the yak he was riding and stood before the Magoi and their guards. He wore a leather jerkin flecked with white feathers and had a short-cut beard and long white hair tied into a ponytail. His mouth was curled into a disarming smile. From the largest of the covered sleds in the caravan, two heavily armed bovigors emerged and moved to stand behind the man. The rest of the caravan stood still as the man began to speak.

'Greetings, good Magoi Zequta. May Mulcarn bless your path. A great honor it is to finally meet our auspicious hosts. My name is Pasekur Iyoype, faithful Messenger of Mulcarn and chosen emissary of Mokranshi to the great state of Tyrandia.' Pasekur offers a bow before crossing his fist upon his chest. 'Yes, I am afraid so. While we were nearing the conflict zone, our caravan was savagely attacked by mage-brigands. Rebels looking for resources, likely. While we were able to scare them off, praise Mulcarn, we lost three of our own in the chaos. But now is not the time to dwell on lives that have already ended. We thank you for the lodgings. Our men shall begin unloading our supplies forthwith.'

He turned and yelled an order to the various men and homigors on the caravan, who began to unpack boxes of supplies and foodstuffs. Pasekur then turned back to the Magoi. 'We also humbly thank you for your guidance. I'm sure very many of us would enjoy the opportunity for respite. The journey has been long, despite the great speed of our yaks.' Pasekur petted the large bull next to him. 'Speaking of which, I'm afraid I must make a few requests, if you would permit me. Our herd is as tired as the rest of us, and we would humbly ask of the whereabouts of your stables, that they may rest as well.'

It was then that a muffled shout was heard from the sled farthest back. A kaprogor dragged out an unfamiliar man who was bound with a sack around his head. What little of his appearance was shown indicated that he was not a native Tyrandian, yet he was also obviously not Winterborn. Pasekur piped up, 'Ah, yes, and there is one more request I must make. Do not be alarmed. He is one of our own. To the extent that he can be, at least. But I can assure you that he is Mokrani. We're afraid that we had to bind him like this, as he threatened to harm our men the whole way here. This man will be important for the summons tomorrow, but for now, we require a place for him to stay. Since he has shown an unwillingness to be civil with us, we kindly request permission to put him away in your dungeons, just until tomorrow.' Pasekur offered a gentle smile.

'Once we have sorted out the accomodations, I'm sure that many of us would enjoy perusing the wonders of Tykare.' Pasekur made a grand gesture with hands towards the city. 'We wait your guidance, good Magoi Zequta.'

Magoi Zequta, watching over the arriving caravan and the strange person who appears to be a prisoner snaps out of confusion. "Do not worry... so long as they aren't a Tyrandian, we do not care. You may use the cells deep below... although they may be too warm for one of your people? They are typically warmed by the heats of the academy nearby; where mages train in fire. Is this acceptable?" Zequta rubs his chin questioningly. "If so, then these guards will lead you there... As for your herd, they may use the stables near the eastern gate, we will have a servant tend to them and give them whatever is required. Fear not."

Afterwards, Zequta leads them to the rooms, which have been prepared to their colder specifications. "Please rest well, I shall return tomorrow."

Zequta leaves the room.

One hour later...

A knock on the door of where the caravan is staying. A whisper through the door to whomever is listening, "Excuse me, dear guests... there is an isuse that is important. The Fyrae'ii are coming, and they may seek to undermine you." Whispers the voice. "Please, open the door! So we may discuss it!"

[Keprain]

15th Day of the 7th Month, Kepraini Mountain Range
"Hey! Gregal! I caught one!" Cheered a young girl running towards a large man who knelt down to pat her on the head. She looked up with a smile, handing him a small wooden crate, with shuffling on the inside.

"That is wonderful Caella!" He reached out and examined the crate, opening it slightly to examine the contents. "This is a great catch! This little fella will enjoy his new life within the mountains, away from those who would do it harm." He smiled gently, "Your parents would be proud..." on that note, Caella frowned a bit, before being comforted by a gentle hug. "Don't worry, Caella. All of us are a family now, you, me - all the refugees and people in these mountains. We were united for a cause of bringing equality to this realm, and we will always be with our own." They both smiled together.

"Okay Gregal! Can I join you next time you leave the mountains?" She hopped up and down in place.

"Maybe when you're a bit older, Caella! You still have to--" Before he was able to finish his sentence, he was cut off by the sound of running.

"Gregal! Gregal! We've got sightings on a group of northerners walking through the mountain pass!" A man came into view, hopping down from a makeshift patrol path.

"Northerners? Here? What could they want? Are they perhaps working with the Magoi?" Gregal stood, preparing himself for an outing.

"We don't know, we saw a group of them moving with the Magoi, but these ones seem to have gotten separated from their caravan, when issues were happening. We are unsure how they got lost... but they haven't acted hostile yet. What should we do?"

"Keep following them, ensure they don't make their way to the village. Send some people ahead, make their path difficult to traverse, forcing them towards the glimmering caverns, by the great falls."

"Right! We'll get right to it!" He said before running off."

Gregal turned towards Caella before patting her on the head again, getting up. "Sorry Caella, we'll catch up a bit more later! Get this little guy to safety!" He handed her back the crate and ran off.

"Good luck Gregal!" She yelled, waving goodbye.

'Are they gone?'

A young Winterborn man looked towards the woman in front of them. 'Do you see the caravan?' The three agents stood near still while the woman in front scanned the horizon. The three of them had been waiting in the heights of the mountain range for several hours. The mission required that as few people knew of their mission as possible. Elder Aknar had arranged a plan for them to sneak away. When the caravan stopped in the mountain range, Ahiki, the spymaster and stealthiest of the trio, had snuck away targeted a rather powerful blizzard spell towards the caravan, ambiguous enough that it could've been mistaken to be cast by a rebel mage in hiding. In the chaos, the three of them managed to slip away. As far as Pasekur knew, rebel mages had ambushed them and kidnapped three helpless caravan hands, or they had just been lost. In any case, the caravan did not leave quickly. They stood their ground for several hours scouring the range for the three of them. It was only at nightfall that they decided to keep moving, leaving the agents behind.

'It seems so, Itashir. The caravan is nowhere to be seen', said Ahiki to the man. 'Looks like we ought to proceed with the mission.'

'Stay yourself, Ahiki', interrupted Penanpe, the woman to the left of Itashir. 'I think I saw something. Or someone for that matter. A native, looked like a man. He ran off before I could get a good look at him, however. I think it's best that we keep a close guard for the time being.'

Itashir responded with, 'We can't stay here forever. We've lost near half the day just trying to stay out of sight of the caravan lookouts. Those kaprogors are relentless. Our rations will only last so long. We better start moving while it's cold. Nightfall will be upon us soon.'

'I agree', said Ahiki. 'But that lone native still raises some concerns. We move out before nightfall begins, but keep an eagle's eye out. We can't have any surprises.'

Ahiki would've preferred to work alone on this mission, but Elder Aknar stressed the diplomatic side of it, and assigned her a Messenger to her team, that being Itashir. As for Penanpe, well, she was probably the best suited to travel south, being a seasoned scout of several missionary treks. It helped that the two of them were from the Casi tribe as well. As far as Itashir went, he was just a burden, at least in Ahiki's eyes. The Messenger had only the barest sense of stealth and spywork. But that was all besides the point.

Penanpe spoke up, 'I think I spot a light in the distance. Looks like a native village. While I think it best that we avoid being seen for now, they're probably out best option if we're to find out about the resistance.'

'If that's the case, then we ought to meet the villagers directly. Most Kepraini are associated with the rebellion, yes? The quickest way to find out about the rebel's leadership would be to ingratiate ourselves with the natives', said Itashir.

'Look at yourself', Ahiki interjected. 'You're blue. I'm blue. Penanpe is a solid white. They'd pick us out as Mokrani in an instant. Warmbloods don't look like this. I seriously doubt that your local Kepraini will listen to a northerner who just strides into their village. We'll have to find some other way.'

'That's exactly it! There is no other way. The leadership won't meet with us directly. We have to start at the roots if we are to meet with them. Mulcarn's horns, Ahiki, it's like you've never met a southerner.'

Ahiki narrowed her gaze. 'Nonetheless, we should start moving. The moon had already begun to rise, and it won't be long before it's too dark to see.'

Some time later...

'Well, that certainly proves the resistance is active here', said Penanpe.

The trio had come to a complete stop in their journey as they stood before a pile of rocks. The mountain pass they were on had been completely sealed off by a rock-slide.

'Oh, come now. Rocks fall off of mountains all the time. How do we know this wasn't a natural occurrence?', asked Itashir.

Penanpe pointed upwards at the ledge. 'Look. The ledge has been tampered with. Those are artificial cracks in at the cliff. Someone deliberately broke apart the edge so as to create a chain reaction and cause these rocks to come tumbling into the pass.'

Ahiki looked around. 'In any case, this pass is no good. we'll have to scale the cliffside. Penanpe, you and I will scale first. When we're at the top, we'll toss down a rope for you, Itashir. From there, we keep moving.'

Even more time later...

The rocky mountain path gave way to dense woodland as the trio continued to make their way towards civilization. Their journey was quickly hampered by the increasing darkness and the lack of visibility, of which the forest did nothing to help. Every sound was a potential hostile, every shadow a spy, at least in the eyes of Ahiki and Penanpe. Itashir seemed uncomfortably confident about the whole venture, which may have explained how he got himself caught in a snare and was now hanging upside-down from a tree. Penanpe was in the process of trying to cut the rope and let him down.

'Honestly, Messenger, why did the Elder choose you of all people?', sighed Penanpe. 'Were there no better ones available? Or at least ones with better sense?'

'The blessed Elder chose me because there is no better orator who can also keep a secret. Besides, it's not like you two would have any luck convincing the resistance not to kill you on sight. Regardless of how things look right now, you'll need me for when you inevitably meet with the rebels and their leader. It's not like either of you speak the local language anywAAAH!' Itashir fell back to earth with a yelp as the rope was at last severed. Penanpe let out a chortle at the sight.

Ahiki rolled her eyes at her companions. This whole episode seemed almost farcical, like a bad tale told by her uncle around the ice pit. Itashir stood up and brushed himself off, attempting to regain his dignity. When Penanpe got down from the tree as well, the spymaster said, 'I would remind you two that the goal is to remain out of sight until we can find the resistance.'

Itashir looked at her. 'I wouldn't worry too much, spymaster. It's quite late, we're in the middle of the highlands, and -' <thunk>

The Messenger was interrupted by an arrow embedding itself in a nearby tree. Penanpe glanced at it. 'I would take that as a signal to make ourselves scarce.'

Quick as a sea eagle, the trio began sprinting through the forest. Penanpe spotted a river with a cave nearby. Pointing, she shouted, 'Look, there! We can take cover!' The three of them turned towards the odd-looking cave and ducked inside. Once they were sure the danger had passed, they composed themselves. Itashir was the first to speak up. 'Why would anyone be hunting this late at night?'

Ahiki guessed, 'Probably because someone knows we're here. I don't think it's a coincidence that we were spotted several hours ago and now we have a hunting party nearby.'

Penanpe prodded her two companions. 'Ahiki, Itashir, do you two notice something odd about this cave?' She gestured towards the walls of the cavern, which were lined with shimmering crystals that gave it an eerie glow. Moreso, the cave was larger than expected. None of them could see where it ended. Strangest of all, something was emitting a sound somewhere in the caverns.

'I'll take first position', said Ahiki. 'Itashir, stay behind me. Penanpe, you take the rear. Arm yourselves and be ready. I don't think we're alone.'

"You are quite right..." a voice echoes throughout the cavern, as the shimmering crystals cast shadows moving in different directions. "You are not alone, northerners."

A few arrows let loose, purposefully missing - an attempt to send a message that if whomever was here wanted, they would have hit them all by now with arrows.

"Heh! Look at these people... They don't look like they belong here! Perhaps they're spies? Perhaps they want to kill us?" Laughs a different voice.

"Perhaps you're right, my friend... What is it that brings you northerners here? We're not so easygoing to allow allies of Tykare to just stroll through our land." Responds the first voice. "Friends, let's make sure to greet them properly... Just remember not to shoot. Yet."

Sounds of more people moving around them can be heard echoing throughout the caverns.

The ground shakes a little bit as stones are moved around different parts of the caverns, for some unknown purpose.

"Now, dear guests... let's make this simple; as I asked before, what brings you here? What is it you seek? And please do answer quickly, my friend here has... difficulties. He may accidentally shoot without permission, and we wouldn't want that..." the first voice says calmly. "We are willing to listen to the allies of our enemy, but purely out of respect."

[Mokranshi]

Magoi Zequta, watching over the arriving caravan and the strange person who appears to be a prisoner snaps out of confusion. "Do not worry... so long as they aren't a Tyrandian, we do not care. You may use the cells deep below... although they may be too warm for one of your people? They are typically warmed by the heats of the academy nearby; where mages train in fire. Is this acceptable?" Zequta rubs his chin questioningly. "If so, then these guards will lead you there... As for your herd, they may use the stables near the eastern gate, we will have a servant tend to them and give them whatever is required. Fear not."

Afterwards, Zequta leads them to the rooms, which have been prepared to their colder specifications. "Please rest well, I shall return tomorrow."

Zequta leaves the room.

One hour later...

A knock on the door of where the caravan is staying. A whisper through the door to whomever is listening, "Excuse me, dear guests... there is an isuse that is important. The Fyrae'ii are coming, and they may seek to undermine you." Whispers the voice. "Please, open the door! So we may discuss it!"

'Thank you for your infinite generosity, good Magoi Zequta', said Pasekur. 'Not to worry. Since the prisoner is not truly Winterborn, he will not be harmed by the fires of your academy. However, since we ourselves *are*, we'll turn him over to your guards for transfer when he is brought to the foot of the dungeon. Thank you again.' Pasekur shouts an order in Mokrani, whereupon the kaprogor carrying the prisoner turns to follow the Tyrandian guards.

'We also thank you greatly for allowing access to your stables. Our herd will be all the better for it.' With a whistle, the homigor attendants unsaddle the yaks and guide them to the Tyrandian servant, handing over the reins.

After the rest of the convoy has prepared, they follow Magoi Zequta to their lodgings, and begin laying out their supplies for a well deserved meal. 'We have done well, my compatriots', Pasekur addresses his crowd of caravaners. 'Despite the difficulty of the journey, we have made it to Tykare. However, before I dismiss you all to be free to explore the city, I humbly ask that you join me in a quick prayer for the souls of our lost attendants. May Mulcarn protect them if they live, and may He guide them to the hereafter if they do not.'

One hour later...
Pasekur sat in a corner of the lodge, deep in meditation. In front of him laid a simple alter, with a statuette of Mulcarn in a more humanoid pose. The Messenger seemed entranced, half-mumbling, half-singing some cryptic prayers to the Cold God. He seemingly did not notice when someone began knocking on the door to the lodge. With most of the company out exploring Tykare, one of his bovigor bodyguards moved to open the door. The bull-man stared down at a native babbling in its foreign tongue about, well, something. The bodyguard, clearly uninterested with anything the foreigner had to say, moved to close the door, when he was interrupted.

'Hold, Stonecrusher. Let the foreigner in. I understand their tongue. This one has something important to say', said Pasekur, pointing to the Tyrandian without looking up or opening his eyes. Slowly coming out of his trance, he turned and beckoned the person closer, before gesturing them to sit. Breathing calmly, he assumed a welcoming smile and addressed the Tyrandian in the native language.

'Good day, child. So, you have come to speak of faraway Fyrae? Interesting. Please, continue. What does our neighbor to the north bring?'

Meanwhile...

Bataar struggled with his bonds. He felt as the kaprogor's grip gave away to softer, more human feeling hands. Still, they held him firmly in place. He could not see through the mask, but he felt the air getting warmer. Unusually warm at that. He hadn't felt such natural warmth like this ever. It almost made the restraints bearable. Speaking of which, his captors hands...they didn't feel cold. These weren't Winterborn...

His thought was interrupted by him suddenly being thrown forwards. He landed somewhat hard on a stone floor, where the sack on his head was ripped off. His eyes rapidly adjusted to the new sight. It wasn't particularly bright wherever he was, so it wasn't hard. He felt the cold stone floor mixed in with the warm air, an incredibly unusual combination. He noticed that he was in a strange cell, with bars made out of some sort of...metal?

The strangest sight before him were two...two humans? Normal humans, uncorrupted by snow magic? Their skin wasn't blue or grey or solid white. It was a normal color. Their eyes weren't icy and their hair flowed naturally. It would be a wondrous sight if not for the dire circumstances he was in.

Regaining his senses as his new captors shut the door to his cell, he leapt up in excitement and ran to it. He began yelling in his Old Mokrani dialect, as he knew no other language. They most likely didn't understand a word of it, but he desperately tried to make them understand.

'Wait! Wait, please! Who are you? Where am I? No, that doesn't matter right now. Don't go, I have to tell you something! I know the snow demons gave me to you! Please, listen! The snow demons! With blue skin and icy eyes and white hair! The snow demons! Don't trust them! Don't trust them! Please, you have to listen!'

He yelled and gesticulated wildly in the vain hope that his human captors would listen. Surely, if they would pay attention to the snow demons, then they would lend an ear to a fellow human?

[Gattoh]

The Imperial Palace, Yuriya, Gattoh
Shrine of the Golden Otter

Emperor Sajin knelt before the jade statue of O-Rakko as one of the Imperial Kannushi made the appropriate blessings to the most eminent of the Sun's messengers. Candles were lit, a censer was carried around the perimeter of the room and salt was sprinkled. The kannushi recited a prayer for the health of the land, which its Emperor repeated. The proceedings ended, and the Emperor rose and headed out of the shrine and into the Southern Garden, his overlong hakama trailing on the floor behind him. At the bottom of the shrine's steps waited Mita Noboru, one of His Majesty's closest counsels within the court.

"Tennō-heika, ten thousand apologies for this intrusion," Mita began with a deep bow. "His Majesty is, of course, aware of those events which transpire in Kepraini, such is his immortal wisdom. But I bring news of particular developments we are just now hearing word of, if His Majesty would permit that I speak."

"Indeed, Mita-sama. Continue," came the reply, as the two men stood beneath the shade of the shrine's roof.

"I am grateful, my Emperor. The news is thus: a second people has moved to assist the magisters of Tyrandia. Not only do we know of the delegation from the beasts of Mokranshi, but we can also confirm that the false lord of Fyrae has sent a legion to aid them also. I daresay the days of the rebellion are numbered at this rate."

Sajin pondered this a moment. Useful tools though a mage could be, to think of just one ─ much less a whole council of the mutants ─ ruling a land was an aberration. And the beastfolk and heretics both were lending them their support?

"Mita-sama, call together an emergency meeting of the Chancellery. And ensure Kazuhiro is there as well. Regarding this issue, I value my brother's opinion greatly. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Tennō-heika. I shall see to it at once." With that, Mita departed.

The Imperial Palace, Yuriya, Gattoh
Hall of the Myriad Autumn Leaves

Emperor Sajin sat at the fore of the room, the tall back of his chair ─ the only one in the room, as the lesser men knelt here ─ casting an imposing shadow onto the wall behind him. Around the great table in the Hall of Leaves sat the Emperor himself, his brother Kazuhiro, Mita Noboru, and the nineteen senior members of the Chancellery, the Emperor's governors. Empress-Consort Aobana was also present, dispensing tea to each man. That done, she proceeded out. The discussions of the Hall of Leaves were not for a woman to hear.

"Everybody, I am grateful for your presence. My wish is to discuss the rebellion of the Kepraini. Mita-sama, please, fill our comrades in on the details..."

Some minutes later the chancellors were in vitriolic debate amongst themselves.

"Regardless of His Majesty's plans to reach out to our neighbours, aiding the Kepraini is not the right option! To make an intervention in some foreigners' conflict Gattoh's first major move would be unthinkable! How can we endear ourselves to others when they would so readily view us as warmongers?" shouted Chancellor Fujihara.

"This matter is greater than what some heretics think of us," retorted Chancellor Sanada. "Such blatant offence against the Sun cannot go unpunished! The rule of men by sorcerers, aided by the False God of Fyrae no less! Yet know that the Kepraini rise up against this, we stand idly by?"

The two royals listened to each side of the debate intently. Whether they had already made up their minds or not, they had to listen. They had to know who to keep an eye on, always. One brother like the other, they remained silent, until at last the Emperor raised a hand. The gesture cast a silence across the hall.

"My comrades, you speak so passionately and for this I am grateful. But I wish to hear the counsel of the Imperial Prince, if you allow it."

Sajin turned his head to Kazuhiro, and gave the signal to speak with a nod. The Prince began:

"Your Majesty, I thank you for the opportunity. All who have spoken have done so with wisdom. Yet I would make a new suggestion: yes, it is a terrible thing to see a user of magic exercise his control over another. Yet we cannot deny the utility that the magical arts have in serving the righteous. So let us consider playing both sides against the middle: we extend one hand to the rebels, and grant them aid against the magisters, while we extend the other towards the mages when their need is greatest, and offer them succour here in Gattoh in exchange for their services to the Empire."

Exactly what the Emperor wanted to hear ─ fully unsurprising, since the brothers had decided on this before the meeting with the Chancellery. It was common knowledge that the Emperor decided the course of action before his subordinates opened their mouths, but the rituals had to be carried out, and the word of another was needed for credibility.

"I thank you, Kazuhiro-denka. Comrades, it is decided; we shall meet again to-morrow and plan. For now, you are dismissed. May the people of the fuki watch over you."

[Venerent]

Royal Meeting Room, Donvern Palace, Venerent

It was time for the King's council to discuss the Kepraini.

"Tyrandia has been a great nation of magic for years before Venerent," said Count Sven Veljord, sitting on his place at the King's table and freshly rested from the Wels Conference, "Every person here has met the honorable Archmage in the past, and remembered the exchanges Tyrandia and this great kingdom achieved. It is unwise to let the relation be severed by our inaction. Surely, fellow councilors of mine here can agree that the defense of magical interests will benefit Venerent when the rebellion is put down.”

He ended his words with a simple "your grace". Not all councilors at the table looked as eager as Veljord himself did. News of the situation in Tyrandia had only come to the lands of the bay a few days before, when King Tolf was still engaged in leisurely activities at Sannerby. The King hastily prepared his ship, but arrived at Donvern first when the rebellion was in full fire. Still, the situation did not seem to favor the Archmage’s or Keprain, which the entire council knew, except perhaps Veljord.

“What measure would you suggest to gain the favor of the Tyrandians?” asked King Tolf.

“The Tyrandians will need men to defeat the rebels,” replied Veljord, “A new Venic army of orcs has recently been levied from the outskirts of Meden. I suggest his majesty to offer 2000 men to the kingdom’s friends.”

It was not unusual for Veljord to suggest sending men to foreign nations. He enjoyed the news of Venic soldiers emerging victorious. Tolf allowed each person was allowed to say their piece. Words for and against aiding the Tyrandians came across the table, but as time progressed most men and women of the table agreed that a military force could be saved for Tyrandia. Then Lady Eira was given the word.

“I am listening to every fellow Venic in this room, and I am worried. Tyrandia is in chaos. The messengers from that land tell us that the Magister-Commander’s forces are slaughtering their opposition. And we wish to make ourselves villains in the eyes of the Kepraini? Even when it is a real possibility they will be the side to dominate the battlefields? I do not wish to heard one month from now that the Kepraini have spiked 2000 Venics. Neither I nor Venerent wishes to hear that. So, with all respect to his highness: if 2000 men are sent to Tyrandia, it will be 2000 more casualties this kingdom does not need.

Tolf expected Eira to say more, and looked blankly when she stayed silent. He glanced back at Veljord, who shook his head. “800 men,” he finally said.
He continued, "Count Ræder will be the commander of the contingent," declared King Tolf. His decision was natural to all the experienced councilors. Ræder was an experienced man who had visited Tyrandia, and though he was not a mage himself he owned both a mind and a faithful respect for magic. He would be a good man for the expedition.

The King spoke up again, “That is the final decision of mine. 800 men to Tyrandia, led by Count Ræder with envoys.”

And that was the final word of the meeting.

[Tyrandia]

Magoi Zequta, watching over the arriving caravan and the strange person who appears to be a prisoner snaps out of confusion. "Do not worry... so long as they aren't a Tyrandian, we do not care. You may use the cells deep below... although they may be too warm for one of your people? They are typically warmed by the heats of the academy nearby; where mages train in fire. Is this acceptable?" Zequta rubs his chin questioningly. "If so, then these guards will lead you there... As for your herd, they may use the stables near the eastern gate, we will have a servant tend to them and give them whatever is required. Fear not."

Afterwards, Zequta leads them to the rooms, which have been prepared to their colder specifications. "Please rest well, I shall return tomorrow."

Zequta leaves the room.

One hour later...

A knock on the door of where the caravan is staying. A whisper through the door to whomever is listening, "Excuse me, dear guests... there is an isuse that is important. The Fyrae'ii are coming, and they may seek to undermine you." Whispers the voice. "Please, open the door! So we may discuss it!"

'Thank you for your infinite generosity, good Magoi Zequta', said Pasekur. 'Not to worry. Since the prisoner is not truly Winterborn, he will not be harmed by the fires of your academy. However, since we ourselves *are*, we'll turn him over to your guards for transfer when he is brought to the foot of the dungeon. Thank you again.' Pasekur shouts an order in Mokrani, whereupon the kaprogor carrying the prisoner turns to follow the Tyrandian guards.

'We also thank you greatly for allowing access to your stables. Our herd will be all the better for it.' With a whistle, the homigor attendants unsaddle the yaks and guide them to the Tyrandian servant, handing over the reins.

After the rest of the convoy has prepared, they follow Magoi Zequta to their lodgings, and begin laying out their supplies for a well deserved meal. 'We have done well, my compatriots', Pasekur addresses his crowd of caravaners. 'Despite the difficulty of the journey, we have made it to Tykare. However, before I dismiss you all to be free to explore the city, I humbly ask that you join me in a quick prayer for the souls of our lost attendants. May Mulcarn protect them if they live, and may He guide them to the hereafter if they do not.'

One hour later...
Pasekur sat in a corner of the lodge, deep in meditation. In front of him laid a simple alter, with a statuette of Mulcarn in a more humanoid pose. The Messenger seemed entranced, half-mumbling, half-singing some cryptic prayers to the Cold God. He seemingly did not notice when someone began knocking on the door to the lodge. With most of the company out exploring Tykare, one of his bovigor bodyguards moved to open the door. The bull-man stared down at a native babbling in its foreign tongue about, well, something. The bodyguard, clearly uninterested with anything the foreigner had to say, moved to close the door, when he was interrupted.

'Hold, Stonecrusher. Let the foreigner in. I understand their tongue. This one has something important to say', said Pasekur, pointing to the Tyrandian without looking up or opening his eyes. Slowly coming out of his trance, he turned and beckoned the person closer, before gesturing them to sit. Breathing calmly, he assumed a welcoming smile and addressed the Tyrandian in the native language.

'Good day, child. So, you have come to speak of faraway Fyrae? Interesting. Please, continue. What does our neighbor to the north bring?'

Meanwhile...

Bataar struggled with his bonds. He felt as the kaprogor's grip gave away to softer, more human feeling hands. Still, they held him firmly in place. He could not see through the mask, but he felt the air getting warmer. Unusually warm at that. He hadn't felt such natural warmth like this ever. It almost made the restraints bearable. Speaking of which, his captors hands...they didn't feel cold. These weren't Winterborn...

His thought was interrupted by him suddenly being thrown forwards. He landed somewhat hard on a stone floor, where the sack on his head was ripped off. His eyes rapidly adjusted to the new sight. It wasn't particularly bright wherever he was, so it wasn't hard. He felt the cold stone floor mixed in with the warm air, an incredibly unusual combination. He noticed that he was in a strange cell, with bars made out of some sort of...metal?

The strangest sight before him were two...two humans? Normal humans, uncorrupted by snow magic? Their skin wasn't blue or grey or solid white. It was a normal color. Their eyes weren't icy and their hair flowed naturally. It would be a wondrous sight if not for the dire circumstances he was in.

Regaining his senses as his new captors shut the door to his cell, he leapt up in excitement and ran to it. He began yelling in his Old Mokrani dialect, as he knew no other language. They most likely didn't understand a word of it, but he desperately tried to make them understand.

'Wait! Wait, please! Who are you? Where am I? No, that doesn't matter right now. Don't go, I have to tell you something! I know the snow demons gave me to you! Please, listen! The snow demons! With blue skin and icy eyes and white hair! The snow demons! Don't trust them! Don't trust them! Please, you have to listen!'

He yelled and gesticulated wildly in the vain hope that his human captors would listen. Surely, if they would pay attention to the snow demons, then they would lend an ear to a fellow human?

At the Lodgings of the Mokranshi
Magoi Zequta enters slowly, keeping her guard up in case something went wrong, then she did a small formal bow before waiting for the door to be closed and stating what she came to say, "The Fyrae'ii are sending an army of several thousand soldiers to Tyrandia. They wish to prove that the only ally needed is themselves. If they were merely sending an army for the sake of assistance, I would be happy. But..." she paused for a few moments, choosing her words carefully, "The Fyrae'ii are unlike some nations, they'd rather see other peoples bowing to them rather than standing beside them. I think that there are two reasons that they are sending the army; the first is to undermine your people, as you are seen as an enemy of theirs, due to their supposed perversion of ice magic; and secondly, they wish to have an army stationed here to keep the pressure up on the people to make it easier to force us to submit to them one day. I came here to let you know, and to be careful for when they arrive... the council may choose to side with one or the other, and not both; and I'd rather side with the peaceful - albeit zealous ones. Be on you guard..." she said, finishing what she came to say and awaiting any questions that may be asked.

She truly wished for a peaceful arrangement between all parties, and was genuinely concerned about the escalation of conflict that may arise due to the involvement of a war-like nation. She considered how to approach any more of the topic, as she didn't wish to cause any major diplomatic incident between the two nations who are willing to help.

At the prisons
"Eh... J'karro... this one is yelling some sort of babble... do you understand him?" Asked a guard, trying to understand the flailing and panicked words of the prisoner.

"Nope... probably just worried we'd cut his hands off for theft or something. He's probably nothing more than a criminal." Replied Private J'Karro in a dull-like manner.

"It seems more... desperate than someone just trying to avoid losing their hands, don't you think? Do you think maybe he might lose something more?"

"How should we know? For all we know he's slated to become a eunuch or something... I know I'd be panicking in that moment!" Laughed J'karro.

The other guard moved in closer to examine the prisoner, "This one sure doesn't look like one of their blue-skins. Perhaps it's a defective one? An outcast of some sort?"

"It's not our business... the Magoi ordered him to be held here, and that's what we'll do. At least until we're relieved... don't get to close to the cell! You don't know what he'd do for his supposed freedom..." J'karro sat back in his chair and allowed it to recline slightly, getting lost in his thoughts.

"I don't know... it seems like he's desperate..." replied the guard, still standing close to the prisoner.

[Mokranshi]

"You are quite right..." a voice echoes throughout the cavern, as the shimmering crystals cast shadows moving in different directions. "You are not alone, northerners."

A few arrows let loose, purposefully missing - an attempt to send a message that if whomever was here wanted, they would have hit them all by now with arrows.

"Heh! Look at these people... They don't look like they belong here! Perhaps they're spies? Perhaps they want to kill us?" Laughs a different voice.

"Perhaps you're right, my friend... What is it that brings you northerners here? We're not so easygoing to allow allies of Tykare to just stroll through our land." Responds the first voice. "Friends, let's make sure to greet them properly... Just remember not to shoot. Yet."

Sounds of more people moving around them can be heard echoing throughout the caverns.

The ground shakes a little bit as stones are moved around different parts of the caverns, for some unknown purpose.

"Now, dear guests... let's make this simple; as I asked before, what brings you here? What is it you seek? And please do answer quickly, my friend here has... difficulties. He may accidentally shoot without permission, and we wouldn't want that..." the first voice says calmly. "We are willing to listen to the allies of our enemy, but purely out of respect."

The trio paused, unsure of their next move. One wrong twitch could end up bringing the entire operation down. It didn't help that Ahiki and Penanpe didn't understand a word that these bandits or rebels or whoever-they-were were saying.

Itashir, on the other hand, fixed his robe and gestured to the women to lower their weapons. 'They're Kepraini. It's alright. I'll handle this. Just don't do anything rash.' Adopting his best Kepraini accent, he responded to the rebels in kind, wherever they were hiding. 'Good day, gentlemen. Mulcarn's blessings upon you. You are correct, we are northerners. However, we mean no harm. I understand your paranoia, truly I do, but our purpose for being here is not one of hostility, but hospitality. The blessed Farseer has heard your cries of oppression and enslavement to the cruel masters of Tykare, and his heart is drawn to your cause. We have come seeking parlay, that we may negotiate an alliance between Mokranshi and the noble revolutionaries of Keprain.

'I understand that you spotted our caravan. You have sharp eyes. I would expect nothing less from the mountain men of Keprain. You are correct that we came with the delegation bound for Tykare. However, they were just a ruse, a way for us to be able to get past the border and close enough to Keprain that we may reach it. You see, the sun-cursed mage-lords are slow to trust outsiders. We had to create the illusion of cooperation, that they would let us pass. In truth, the Mokrani have more in common to the Kepraini than the mage-lords. Mulcarn gifted us magic as a tool of cooperation and goodwill, not of tyranny. The Cold God's children do not select their leaders based on the blood in their veins, but by the strength of their body, the sharpness of their mind, and the steel of their will. Such as all leaders of mankind should be, for it demonstrates the favor of the divine.'

Itashir breathed deeply for a moment. 'If you would find yourselves willing to deal with us in the light, as all good deals are made, then we shall lower our weapons and we may speak freely of Keprain's destiny, for the power of Mulcarn has much to offer to those who fight in His name.'

'Alright, lower your weapons.' Itashir points at the other two. 'Are you mad?' mutters Penanpe. 'How do we know these voices are trustworthy? They may kill us the moment we do!'

'We're dead to rights anyhow', said Itashir, 'and they're aligned with the rebels it seems. This is the chance we have been waiting for.'

'Do as he says', orders Ahiki, dropping her spear. Slowly and hesitantly, Penanpe puts down her bow and quiver. Then, they wait for a response from the voices.

[Mokranshi]

At the Lodgings of the Mokranshi
Magoi Zequta enters slowly, keeping her guard up in case something went wrong, then she did a small formal bow before waiting for the door to be closed and stating what she came to say, "The Fyrae'ii are sending an army of several thousand soldiers to Tyrandia. They wish to prove that the only ally needed is themselves. If they were merely sending an army for the sake of assistance, I would be happy. But..." she paused for a few moments, choosing her words carefully, "The Fyrae'ii are unlike some nations, they'd rather see other peoples bowing to them rather than standing beside them. I think that there are two reasons that they are sending the army; the first is to undermine your people, as you are seen as an enemy of theirs, due to their supposed perversion of ice magic; and secondly, they wish to have an army stationed here to keep the pressure up on the people to make it easier to force us to submit to them one day. I came here to let you know, and to be careful for when they arrive... the council may choose to side with one or the other, and not both; and I'd rather side with the peaceful - albeit zealous ones. Be on you guard..." she said, finishing what she came to say and awaiting any questions that may be asked.

She truly wished for a peaceful arrangement between all parties, and was genuinely concerned about the escalation of conflict that may arise due to the involvement of a war-like nation. She considered how to approach any more of the topic, as she didn't wish to cause any major diplomatic incident between the two nations who are willing to help.

At the prisons
"Eh... J'karro... this one is yelling some sort of babble... do you understand him?" Asked a guard, trying to understand the flailing and panicked words of the prisoner.

"Nope... probably just worried we'd cut his hands off for theft or something. He's probably nothing more than a criminal." Replied Private J'Karro in a dull-like manner.

"It seems more... desperate than someone just trying to avoid losing their hands, don't you think? Do you think maybe he might lose something more?"

"How should we know? For all we know he's slated to become a eunuch or something... I know I'd be panicking in that moment!" Laughed J'karro.

The other guard moved in closer to examine the prisoner, "This one sure doesn't look like one of their blue-skins. Perhaps it's a defective one? An outcast of some sort?"

"It's not our business... the Magoi ordered him to be held here, and that's what we'll do. At least until we're relieved... don't get to close to the cell! You don't know what he'd do for his supposed freedom..." J'karro sat back in his chair and allowed it to recline slightly, getting lost in his thoughts.

"I don't know... it seems like he's desperate..." replied the guard, still standing close to the prisoner.

The Lodge
Despite the sudden apprehension he felt at the news of a Fyrae'ii legion on the march to Tyrandia, Pasekur kept up his calm demeanor. 'So, the emperor seeks to cow a nation engulfed in a civil war, hoping to force it into submission when the dust has settled? A cowardly strategy, though I can't say I expected much different from a man pretending to be a god. Any man who claims the seat of heaven risks losing his touch with the material realm, and all that entails. As for his attempts at undermining our mission, I shall see to it myself that neither he nor his legionnaire puppets are successful. We will not so easily be bullied by the 'emperor'. Tyrandia deserves a Tyrandian peace, no matter what nations intervene. This I can promise you, good Magoi Zequta. While Mokranshi has its reasons for being here, in the end, we hope to leave Tyrandia much the same way we found it. Perhaps a bit more peaceful, though.

'And before you go, good Magoi Zequta, I know how risky it is for a Magoi to consort with one of the delegations. Rest assured, the words spoken here will not leave this room.' Pasekur glanced over at the small statuette of Mulcarn before his eyes brightened. 'One more thing.'

He reached into one of the pockets of his tunic and pulld out a strange icy shard. It glowed a faint blue and irradiated a feeling of coldness. 'This is a special shard of Everice, commonly used by the Messengers and other exceptionally strong Mokrani mages. We consume them to better regulate our body temperatures in warmer climates and to temporarily enhance the strength of our cryomancy.' He handed it over to Zequta, using his hands to enclose her palm around it. 'Feel its chill. It may sting a tad, I know, but that is an expression of its power. Our power. If there is any doubt left in you of Mulcarn's gift or Mokranshi's benefit to the glory of Tyrandia, consume it. Do not worry, the power within is not enough to transform you, but it will affect you slightly, if only for a little while. Cast any ice spell you know, and witness the might of winter at its true strength.' Pasekur stood up. 'Thank you for visiting, good Magoi Zequta. With Mulcarn's favor, we shall meet again soon.'

Meanwhile, at the prison...
Bataar watched with anticipation as one of the guards stood his ground. The other one seemed unconcerned, and he couldn't understand their language, but if he had the attention of one, that was all that mattered.

Realizing that words would get him nowhere, he tried vague body language and hand signals to bridge the linguistic gap. He pointed towards the prison exit leading outside, then to himself. He pretended he had a knife and imitated the sound of tearing flesh as he drew the invisible knife across his wrist, before pointing inside his throat. Then he brushed his skin while imitating the sounds of ice breaking with his mouth. Then he flicked his hair and pointed at his eyes, blinking rapidly. Then he began stomping around, imitating a beastman, before switching to an imitation of what seemed to be the Mokrani head delegate, Pasekur. He then moved his hands rapidly back and forth while shaking his head as if to say 'no'.

He only hoped that his wild gesticulating would make sense to the confused looking guard.

[Tyrandia]

The Imperial Palace, Yuriya, Gattoh
Shrine of the Golden Otter

Emperor Sajin knelt before the jade statue of O-Rakko as one of the Imperial Kannushi made the appropriate blessings to the most eminent of the Sun's messengers. Candles were lit, a censer was carried around the perimeter of the room and salt was sprinkled. The kannushi recited a prayer for the health of the land, which its Emperor repeated. The proceedings ended, and the Emperor rose and headed out of the shrine and into the Southern Garden, his overlong hakama trailing on the floor behind him. At the bottom of the shrine's steps waited Mita Noboru, one of His Majesty's closest counsels within the court.

"Tennō-heika, ten thousand apologies for this intrusion," Mita began with a deep bow. "His Majesty is, of course, aware of those events which transpire in Kepraini, such is his immortal wisdom. But I bring news of particular developments we are just now hearing word of, if His Majesty would permit that I speak."

"Indeed, Mita-sama. Continue," came the reply, as the two men stood beneath the shade of the shrine's roof.

"I am grateful, my Emperor. The news is thus: a second people has moved to assist the magisters of Tyrandia. Not only do we know of the delegation from the beasts of Mokranshi, but we can also confirm that the false lord of Fyrae has sent a legion to aid them also. I daresay the days of the rebellion are numbered at this rate."

Sajin pondered this a moment. Useful tools though a mage could be, to think of just one ─ much less a whole council of the mutants ─ ruling a land was an aberration. And the beastfolk and heretics both were lending them their support?

"Mita-sama, call together an emergency meeting of the Chancellery. And ensure Kazuhiro is there as well. Regarding this issue, I value my brother's opinion greatly. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Tennō-heika. I shall see to it at once." With that, Mita departed.

The Imperial Palace, Yuriya, Gattoh
Hall of the Myriad Autumn Leaves

Emperor Sajin sat at the fore of the room, the tall back of his chair ─ the only one in the room, as the lesser men knelt here ─ casting an imposing shadow onto the wall behind him. Around the great table in the Hall of Leaves sat the Emperor himself, his brother Kazuhiro, Mita Noboru, and the nineteen senior members of the Chancellery, the Emperor's governors. Empress-Consort Aobana was also present, dispensing tea to each man. That done, she proceeded out. The discussions of the Hall of Leaves were not for a woman to hear.

"Everybody, I am grateful for your presence. My wish is to discuss the rebellion of the Kepraini. Mita-sama, please, fill our comrades in on the details..."

Some minutes later the chancellors were in vitriolic debate amongst themselves.

"Regardless of His Majesty's plans to reach out to our neighbours, aiding the Kepraini is not the right option! To make an intervention in some foreigners' conflict Gattoh's first major move would be unthinkable! How can we endear ourselves to others when they would so readily view us as warmongers?" shouted Chancellor Fujihara.

"This matter is greater than what some heretics think of us," retorted Chancellor Sanada. "Such blatant offence against the Sun cannot go unpunished! The rule of men by sorcerers, aided by the False God of Fyrae no less! Yet know that the Kepraini rise up against this, we stand idly by?"

The two royals listened to each side of the debate intently. Whether they had already made up their minds or not, they had to listen. They had to know who to keep an eye on, always. One brother like the other, they remained silent, until at last the Emperor raised a hand. The gesture cast a silence across the hall.

"My comrades, you speak so passionately and for this I am grateful. But I wish to hear the counsel of the Imperial Prince, if you allow it."

Sajin turned his head to Kazuhiro, and gave the signal to speak with a nod. The Prince began:

"Your Majesty, I thank you for the opportunity. All who have spoken have done so with wisdom. Yet I would make a new suggestion: yes, it is a terrible thing to see a user of magic exercise his control over another. Yet we cannot deny the utility that the magical arts have in serving the righteous. So let us consider playing both sides against the middle: we extend one hand to the rebels, and grant them aid against the magisters, while we extend the other towards the mages when their need is greatest, and offer them succour here in Gattoh in exchange for their services to the Empire."

Exactly what the Emperor wanted to hear ─ fully unsurprising, since the brothers had decided on this before the meeting with the Chancellery. It was common knowledge that the Emperor decided the course of action before his subordinates opened their mouths, but the rituals had to be carried out, and the word of another was needed for credibility.

"I thank you, Kazuhiro-denka. Comrades, it is decided; we shall meet again to-morrow and plan. For now, you are dismissed. May the people of the fuki watch over you."

Tykare, Tyrandia; the Magoi Inner Sanctum
The inner sanctum, a place where only the members of the Magoi Council are permitted. Guarded not by normal soldiers, but by ones who cannot by any means be considered humans. The sanctum itself is deep underground. In this area, the members of the council discuss private affairs and things that will be brought forth for discussion.

"I heard that Gattoh wishes to get involved in this too?" Said one Magoi.

"Gattoh? Are they not anti-magic? What kind of involvement? Would they be siding with the rebels?" Asked another.

"No, it seems they wish to offer us some sort of assistance?"

"Us? That can't be true. They wouldn't help us unless they wanted something from it."

"It's just a rumour so far... we'll know in the tomorrow's main council meeting. It seems that there will be plenty to discuss there... The Mokranshi, the Fyrae'ii, and now the Gattoans? Everyone seems to be getting involved... I wonder what we'll end up deciding on."

"True... but between the religious zealots, the warmongers, and the isolationists... I'd choose the assistance of the isolationists personally. Besides, Gattoh has a better history working with mages than some..." he said, coughing to hold back the words.

"Oh... you mean...? Yeah. As long as they don't get involved, we'll be fine. But if they do, that would be dangerous. Very dangerous."

"Well, it's not worth thinking about. What are these people from Gattoh offering...?"

"Well... it seems that they're offering--" The Magoi was cutoff by the horn calling together the next meeting. It is time for them to discuss the final affairs of the day, before going to rest in preparation for the next day... the main council meeting.

[Tyrandia]

Royal Meeting Room, Donvern Palace, Venerent

It was time for the King's council to discuss the Kepraini.

"Tyrandia has been a great nation of magic for years before Venerent," said Count Sven Veljord, sitting on his place at the King's table and freshly rested from the Wels Conference, "Every person here has met the honorable Archmage in the past, and remembered the exchanges Tyrandia and this great kingdom achieved. It is unwise to let the relation be severed by our inaction. Surely, fellow councilors of mine here can agree that the defense of magical interests will benefit Venerent when the rebellion is put down.”

He ended his words with a simple "your grace". Not all councilors at the table looked as eager as Veljord himself did. News of the situation in Tyrandia had only come to the lands of the bay a few days before, when King Tolf was still engaged in leisurely activities at Sannerby. The King hastily prepared his ship, but arrived at Donvern first when the rebellion was in full fire. Still, the situation did not seem to favor the Archmage’s or Keprain, which the entire council knew, except perhaps Veljord.

“What measure would you suggest to gain the favor of the Tyrandians?” asked King Tolf.

“The Tyrandians will need men to defeat the rebels,” replied Veljord, “A new Venic army of orcs has recently been levied from the outskirts of Meden. I suggest his majesty to offer 2000 men to the kingdom’s friends.”

It was not unusual for Veljord to suggest sending men to foreign nations. He enjoyed the news of Venic soldiers emerging victorious. Tolf allowed each person was allowed to say their piece. Words for and against aiding the Tyrandians came across the table, but as time progressed most men and women of the table agreed that a military force could be saved for Tyrandia. Then Lady Eira was given the word.

“I am listening to every fellow Venic in this room, and I am worried. Tyrandia is in chaos. The messengers from that land tell us that the Magister-Commander’s forces are slaughtering their opposition. And we wish to make ourselves villains in the eyes of the Kepraini? Even when it is a real possibility they will be the side to dominate the battlefields? I do not wish to heard one month from now that the Kepraini have spiked 2000 Venics. Neither I nor Venerent wishes to hear that. So, with all respect to his highness: if 2000 men are sent to Tyrandia, it will be 2000 more casualties this kingdom does not need.

Tolf expected Eira to say more, and looked blankly when she stayed silent. He glanced back at Veljord, who shook his head. “800 men,” he finally said.
He continued, "Count Ræder will be the commander of the contingent," declared King Tolf. His decision was natural to all the experienced councilors. Ræder was an experienced man who had visited Tyrandia, and though he was not a mage himself he owned both a mind and a faithful respect for magic. He would be a good man for the expedition.

The King spoke up again, “That is the final decision of mine. 800 men to Tyrandia, led by Count Ræder with envoys.”

And that was the final word of the meeting.

Tykare, Tyrandia; Nightfall in the chambers of whispers
The chamber of whispers, an ominous name for a fairly normal communications centre. Here all the messages to and from Tykare are held; and at this very moment a new message just arrived; the Kingdom of Venerent is sending troops in support.

"Quickly! Get this message to the Grand Magister. This must be placed on the agenda for tomorrows main council meeting!" Said a Magoi posted at the chamber, yelling at a young scribe who quickly grabbed the letter and ran out the room.

Moments later, at the palace of the Grand Magister
A knock on the door echoing throughout the palace, repeating itself over and over. Sounding like a hammer banging against wood. A butler opens the door.

"What on Gwalethia do you want at this hour, good sir?" He asked, obviously bothered by the noise.

"Sir! A letter for the Grand Magister. Something to add urgently to tomrorow's agenda, please give it to her Grandness right away!" He handed the letter over.

The butler reached over and took it in his hand, nodding annoyedly. "Of course, sir. Have a good night." He said, closing the door and turning towards the stairs. He knew that he had to deliver this message... he just wasn't looking forward to waking up his patron. She has a poor temper. He sighed and went forth with his job.

After reaching her door and knocking lightly, the door slammed open and the Grand Magister was there in her garments glaring at him.

"What. Do. You. Want?" She said angrily, charging magic in her hand.

"F-Forgive me, my lady. But an urgent letter for you. Something about a new thing for tomorrow's agenda, the messenger said it was of the utmost importance!" He held his hands up in a surrender position, the letter between his thumb and index finger.

She looked at it for a few moments, the magic dissipating, and then grabbed it. Breaking the seal and tearing it open to read the contents.

"This is... interesting." She said calmly. "This will be added to the agenda. Thank you. You are dismissed. Do not disturb me again, got it?" She said, glaring at him.

He nodded and bowed as she shut the door.

[Fyrae]

The Immortal City, Fyrae
6th Day of the 7th Month

The Immortal City, as the capital of Fyrae was known, was a city steeped in sin and wickedness, it's buildings made of black stone and its muddied streets running through the city as a web of narrow passages and dangerous journeys, with the risk of being robbed or killed at every corner. And at its every heart sat the Eternal Palace, the beating heart of the entire wicked Empire. The Palace was a monolithic pyramid made of the darkest stone, with balconies appearing at different levels for whenever the Eternal Emperor wished to have fresh air. The entire structure was a testament to the self-indulgence and the egotistical nature of the Fyrae'ii.

Quickly hurrying up the steps to the Immortal Throne room, Inquisitor Zae'Utt'Tae heard his steps echo in the grandiose halls of the Palace. He felt his heart race to arrive early to his appointment with the Eternal Emperor, whom rarely granted audiences to those outside of the Council, and whose favour was needed for any hope of advancement in this world. Arriving in the Throne room, he was in awe of what he saw. A long hall stretched on, lined on both sides with pillars of gold. It's walls were a faded red and decorated with the skulls of various beasts and banners that the Emperor had slain or vanquished over his long life. And at the end of the hall sat Him, the Eternal Emperor himself. Sat upon a throne of black stone, with his sigil carved into the stone above him and the heads of beasts carved into the sides with the craftsmanship of a long-dead master. The Emperor himself was clothed in a white tunic with red trimmings, paired with a set of black trousers and boots. As custom dictated, his face was covered apart from his grey eyes, as any man beneath the rank of the Ever-Changing Council were forbidden to look upon the true face of the Emperor in any field other than battle.

Zae'Utt'Tae knelt instinctively, groveling intensely at the feat of the Emperor, of whom many considered to be a God Incarnate. The Emperor bide him to rise with a motion of his hand, yet Zae still avoided direct eye contact with the Emperor as no man his low a rank was worthy of such a thing.

"Loyal Inquisitor, why is it you have requested to meet with me?" the Emperor asked, his voice as silky as any man could hope.

"My Gracious and Benevolent Emperor, I bring news from the outer-world" he reported, fighting the urge his voice felt to express his love and devotion to the Emperor, looking up at the Emperor, he saw he was given the motion to continue "Eternal Emperor, the Magoi Realm of Tyrandia to our self faces revolt of the most grievous kind. Those ungracious of the kindness displayed by their rulers have declared themselves free of some form of alleged oppression" he reported dutifully, bowing when he finished speaking. Moments passed before the Emperor spoke;

"Tell me, Inquisitor, why it is that I should care for the petty squabbling of a realm infinitely lesser than my own" the Emperor asked, causing Zar to freeze up. The God-Emperor was severely displeased.


"M-m-my Eternal Emperor, this is most important as the most hated realm of the Morkanshi appear to be at the forefront of intervention" he responded nervously, feeling himself shrink beneath the gaze of the Emperor. Every second that passed felt like an eternity of anxiousness as the Emperor sat aback in his Throne.

"I see..." he spoke "Whom is it those savage beasts wish to support? For them to act out of the kindness of their heart alone is ludicrous.@

"The Mages, Eternal Emperor. They appear to have sent an envoy to the High Council of Mages to show dedication"

"How charitable" the Emperor mentioned "But an envoy? No armed force to fully assist in the attempt to crush the rebels?"

"No, My Most Greatest of All Lords, they appear not to"

"Then we shall have to beat them to having the Mages align with us." he said, rising from his Throne and taking steps towards Zae. He felt his heart race as the Incarnate God walked towards him. Even from a distance, the 6'2 Zae was dwarfed by the Emperor Inquisitor, alert the Grand Warmaster to ready an Imperial Legion for immediate departure to Tyrandia. The Morkanshi march with nothing to offer while we have a Legion to join their cause."

"Yes, Most Eternal One, it shall be done at once" Zae answered, bowing as far down as he could go before turning to leave.

"Final note, Inquisitor Zae'Utt'Tae" the Emperor spoke, prompting Zae to stop mid step. The Eternal Emperor knew his name? His heart beat rose again as the Emperor finished speaking;

"Do not withhold information in dramatic fashion again" he spoke, before dismissing Zae, whose bones and soul froze in terror of the Emperor's ominous threat.

*Note: An Imperial Legion ranges in size from 5,000 to 10,000 men

15th Day of the 7th Month, Tykare Council Chambers; shortly after the arrival of the Mokranshi caravan
"This is fascinating news... the people of Fyrae wish to assist? They are sending a legion to aid us in our ventures... perhaps the Mokranshi are unecessary?" Says Magister Kukl aloud.

"Careful, Kukl... the Fyrae'ii are a dangerous people to get involved with. Should we accept them, it could be dangerous; it would guarantee that we would be unable to have any interactions with Aeternaea." Says Magister T'laa calmly.

"Aeternaea? You are concerned with the Aeternaeans? They will not assist, or even offer a word! They keep to themselves! Who cares if we slight them?" replies Magister Kukl.

"Calm now!" says Grand Magister Sokia, calmly. "While it is true that Aeternaea is isolationist and does not involve themselves in global affairs; they are still the most powerful nation in the world... that being said, they have not offered any assistance, and Fyrae has. We must acknowledge whom wishes to help us. Therefore, I move to letting them send their delegation, perhaps they can show that they are capable of quelling this rebellion, and then we can see what happens next."

"But --" Magister T'laa was about to say something before being cut off by a crowd of cheers in the room. It seems as if the room accepts what Sokia stated; they should allow a delegation from Fyrae, with their legion, to come and present themselves.

Magister T'laa thought to herself that this would be a horrible idea. Not only would it cut any chances of getting Aeternaean help, but it would also aggrevate tensions between Tyrandia and Mokranshi... she excused herself to go find a way to alleviate things before they got worse.

The delegation of the Fyrae'ii marched with a dazzling splendour and efficiency, their steeled armour glittering in the summer's sun, their feet beating a rhythmic and consistent beat, not a foot missing its timing, forming an unbroken *bang* as armoured feet struck the ground. At the head of the small band of 10 warriors rode Rho'O'Ne, Grand Silencer of the Heretical, a hero throughout the empire. Tales were often told at firesides of the way he crushed the serpent of heretical thought at every turn throughout the Empire, single-handedly defeating the beastman Ghar'zhul during the Beast Rebellion. While the armour of the rest of the delegation's was a polished and refined steel and largely lacked any signs of individualism, aside from a few Ribbons of Valour, Rho's own armour was decorated with the sigil of the Eternal Emperor in the centre of his breastplate, etched and filled with gold.

The delegation came to a halt infront of the Tyrandian officials, a resounding metallic stomp ringing out. Standing in front of the Tyrandians, Rho held the composure of expecting a bow from the Tyrandians, but he nodded his head before speaking;

"May the God-Emperor bless you, we have come with a single intention; to destroy the rebels that threaten this nation and to ensure a peace in the Southern lands" Rho said, his voice biting with a metallic edge from his war helm. Curiously, he also spoke first in Fyrae'ii then repeated himself in Tyrandian, a move that made him quite feel somewhat demeaned, as a mighty Lord of the Fyrae'ii had no need to bring himself to such depths as to communicate in anything other than the Holy Tongue of Fyrae, but his helm hid any indicators of this.

[Mokranshi]

The delegation of the Fyrae'ii marched with a dazzling splendour and efficiency, their steeled armour glittering in the summer's sun, their feet beating a rhythmic and consistent beat, not a foot missing its timing, forming an unbroken *bang* as armoured feet struck the ground. At the head of the small band of 10 warriors rode Rho'O'Ne, Grand Silencer of the Heretical, a hero throughout the empire. Tales were often told at firesides of the way he crushed the serpent of heretical thought at every turn throughout the Empire, single-handedly defeating the beastman Ghar'zhul during the Beast Rebellion. While the armour of the rest of the delegation's was a polished and refined steel and largely lacked any signs of individualism, aside from a few Ribbons of Valour, Rho's own armour was decorated with the sigil of the Eternal Emperor in the centre of his breastplate, etched and filled with gold.

The delegation came to a halt infront of the Tyrandian officials, a resounding metallic stomp ringing out. Standing in front of the Tyrandians, Rho held the composure of expecting a bow from the Tyrandians, but he nodded his head before speaking;

"May the God-Emperor bless you, we have come with a single intention; to destroy the rebels that threaten this nation and to ensure a peace in the Southern lands" Rho said,

Note: this takes place after the Mokrani delegation's meeting with the Council

The Lodge
Stonecrusher stood beside the door of the lodge, still and stoic. On the opposite side of the door sat his comrade, Spearshatter, also a bovigor. In the corner, Pasekur was busy scribbling down the results of the meeting with the Council, to be returned to the Grand Temple. 'I wonder what the blessed Farseer will make of this', said the Messenger in his usual calm and collected tone of voice. 'You have any opinions, Stonecrusher? What about you, Spearshatter?'

The bovigor bodyguards stood unflinching. Finally, Stonecrusher opened his mouth to speak when they heard a knock on the door of the lodge. Spearshatter opened it to see the kaprogor attendant, Wildhorn. He brayed, 'Something of interest, faithful Messenger. The Fyrae'ii delegation is here. The faces, I do not know, but the one in front. Struts like an albatross. His armor is etched with gold, with the rune of their emperor at the center.

Spearshatter snorted loudly at the sound of this. 'This human, I heard of this one.' Spearshatter was unique among the Mokrani delegates in that he was not Mokrani-born. He was a refugee, one of several, who fled Fyrae some years back after the failed Great Liberation (as the beastmen called it). There were so many refugees and veterans that arrived in Mokranshi in fact, that they even formed a new clan, Clan Ghar'zhul, named after the great hero, may Mulcarn rest his soul. While the refugees had long since assimilated into Mokranshi, these beastmen were slow to forget their dark past.

'The one in front, name is Rho-one, I think. Sounds different in Fyrae'ii tongue. He was the one they sent. Fought us in the Great Liberation. Killed Ghar'zhul. He is sun-cursed among sun-cursed. May Mulcarn devour his soul.'

Pasekur pondered this information. 'Hmm, I don't think it's a coincidence that the emperor sends him of all people to Tykare, just as we are here. It's a calculated move. This must be what Zequta was referring to. In any case, this has piqued my curiosity and my concern. If we are to be successful here, we cannot let the Fyrae'ii gain the upper hand in negotiations. That means we must pay close attention to their delegates so long as they are in Tykare. I think we ought to observe their arrival. Wildhorn, have they reached the city center proper?'

'No, faithful Messenger. Their legion was on the city outskirts when I see them.'

'Hmm, a whole legion as well. This sounds like a power move. Nonetheless, we should be there when they come face to face with the Magoi. Oh, and Spearshatter, please don't do anything rash? I trust your temperament, but I know what the emperor and this man are responsible for. Believe me, they will answer to Mulcarn in the hereafter.'

The Square
While Spearshatter was clear on his responsibilities and instructions, he could not help by affix some of his human skulls to his bandolier as they made their way to the square. Legion skulls, specifically, trophies from the Great Liberation. Just because he wasn't allowed to interact with the Fyrae'ii (much less cleave the pompous one in twain), it didn't mean he couldn't remind them of who they were in the presence of.

Pasekur, his bodyguards, and a handful of diplomats stood by as the Fyrae'ii delegation met with the Tyrandians, quietly observing this initial encounter.

[Tyrandia]

15th Day of the 7th Month, Tykare Council Chambers; shortly after the arrival of the Mokranshi caravan
"This is fascinating news... the people of Fyrae wish to assist? They are sending a legion to aid us in our ventures... perhaps the Mokranshi are unecessary?" Says Magister Kukl aloud.

"Careful, Kukl... the Fyrae'ii are a dangerous people to get involved with. Should we accept them, it could be dangerous; it would guarantee that we would be unable to have any interactions with Aeternaea." Says Magister T'laa calmly.

"Aeternaea? You are concerned with the Aeternaeans? They will not assist, or even offer a word! They keep to themselves! Who cares if we slight them?" replies Magister Kukl.

"Calm now!" says Grand Magister Sokia, calmly. "While it is true that Aeternaea is isolationist and does not involve themselves in global affairs; they are still the most powerful nation in the world... that being said, they have not offered any assistance, and Fyrae has. We must acknowledge whom wishes to help us. Therefore, I move to letting them send their delegation, perhaps they can show that they are capable of quelling this rebellion, and then we can see what happens next."

"But --" Magister T'laa was about to say something before being cut off by a crowd of cheers in the room. It seems as if the room accepts what Sokia stated; they should allow a delegation from Fyrae, with their legion, to come and present themselves.

Magister T'laa thought to herself that this would be a horrible idea. Not only would it cut any chances of getting Aeternaean help, but it would also aggrevate tensions between Tyrandia and Mokranshi... she excused herself to go find a way to alleviate things before they got worse.

The delegation of the Fyrae'ii marched with a dazzling splendour and efficiency, their steeled armour glittering in the summer's sun, their feet beating a rhythmic and consistent beat, not a foot missing its timing, forming an unbroken *bang* as armoured feet struck the ground. At the head of the small band of 10 warriors rode Rho'O'Ne, Grand Silencer of the Heretical, a hero throughout the empire. Tales were often told at firesides of the way he crushed the serpent of heretical thought at every turn throughout the Empire, single-handedly defeating the beastman Ghar'zhul during the Beast Rebellion. While the armour of the rest of the delegation's was a polished and refined steel and largely lacked any signs of individualism, aside from a few Ribbons of Valour, Rho's own armour was decorated with the sigil of the Eternal Emperor in the centre of his breastplate, etched and filled with gold.

The delegation came to a halt infront of the Tyrandian officials, a resounding metallic stomp ringing out. Standing in front of the Tyrandians, Rho held the composure of expecting a bow from the Tyrandians, but he nodded his head before speaking;

"May the God-Emperor bless you, we have come with a single intention; to destroy the rebels that threaten this nation and to ensure a peace in the Southern lands" Rho said, his voice biting with a metallic edge from his war helm. Curiously, he also spoke first in Fyrae'ii then repeated himself in Tyrandian, a move that made him quite feel somewhat demeaned, as a mighty Lord of the Fyrae'ii had no need to bring himself to such depths as to communicate in anything other than the Holy Tongue of Fyrae, but his helm hid any indicators of this.

Tykare, Tyrandia
With the gathering people, including the Mokranshi guests, a group of Magoi go to meet the Fyrae'ii troops.

"Welcome, dear friends from the north. We are glad to have you in this wonderous city. We hope your journey was not too bad?" Stated the representative meeting them, "We have lodgings made for your leadership, but I'm afraid your troops will need to remain outside of the city, we haven't the room to accomodate them. That being said, we will supply them with rations to ensure they do not starve." He said, calmly.

Observing the reactions from all those around them, you could tell that many of the Magoi were uncomfortable with a military being so close, but none said anything; in fact, the Magoi who was meeting them, Magister K'Kua seemed far too calm, almost as if he weren't worried whatsoever about the guests. He turned towards the crowd and with a smile stated, "We welcome additional guests to our great city, perhaps these guests too shall be able to aid us in quashing the rebellion!" Those words gained a cheer from the crowds. "Now, dear guests... please follow me to your lodgings as your soldiers remain outside the walls to rest..." he said, leading the leaders to an inn. "I guarantee this inn is to your standards, and you will be summoned in a day or so to address the council with your suggestions and ideas as to quashing this rebellion. Be warned though, you are not the only guests here who wish to make themselves a name, so please; do not cause any trouble." He said without looking back, continuing to guide them, giving a sideways glance over to the Mokranshi. Whether this was a good or bad sign for them, it was still too early to tell.