Intrigue in Court [IC]

[The Verdantderm Lands]

Knights Raven
“You will be king……” Gelt muttered, repeating the prince’s words like the devil reading a contract. “Brave words for a young noble.”

“You seek to be my ward….” the Raven stared ahead as he processed the idea. Can it be done?

“What will you do if I refuse?” he replied as he tilted his head down to face the prince. “A week is here is a week not on the road.”

Prince Dayfith

Dayvith spoke calmly but seriously, "If you refuse, I will continue to strive to learn the things that will make me a good and respected king. That is my duty."

Dayvith was tall, for a fourteen year old, but he did have to tilt his head back to look up to the Knight.

"As for a week on the road," he continued, "I should consider it a gift and a privilege."

Dayvith pitched his voice, lower and softer, so that only the Knights Raven might hear. "My Lord should be made aware that this fostering was somewhat compelled, as my father and uncle were at odds with each other. In some ways, I am a royal hostage for my father's good behavior. It remains to be seen if my cousin will continue to use me as leverage or if he will trust my father...."

Dayvith, somewhat anxious to get the conversation away from his personal predicament, decided to try and change the subject and said in his normal voice, "Oh, I'm not sure how my uncle reacted, but rumor has it that my cousin dislikes masks, veils and helms in his presence...." He let the statement trail off, not knowing how it would be taken. Truth be told, he was curious about this enigmatic knight, who had yet to introduce himself.

[Union Princes]

Knights Raven
“You’ll need more than just martial training to be a good ruler if you pick me, young lord.” Gelt suggested, “I recommend seeking other teachers to assist in your education.”

“But,” he concluded, “I will help you on your journey towards swordsmanship. Just be wary if you turn your blade against your cousin. As for the Emperor, we’ll meet him soon enough.”

[The Verdantderm Lands]

Knights Raven

“You’ll need more than just martial training to be a good ruler if you pick me, young lord.” Gelt suggested, “I recommend seeking other teachers to assist in your education.”

“But,” he concluded, “I will help you on your journey towards swordsmanship. Just be wary if you turn your blade against your cousin. As for the Emperor, we’ll meet him soon enough.”

Prince Dayvith

"Please, my Lord Knight," replied Dayvith, "my hands will be quite full with a kingdom. The only way I'd raise a blade against my cousin would be if he named me his heir, something that I don't want. May we both live long and happy lives and he outlive me."

Dayvith wondered at the face behind the helm. Did it ever smile?

[Theyra]

Teun Ravn
Blue Palace

"We are here milord," the coachman said, and a well-dressed man stepped out of the carriage. He took a deep breath of the cold air before paying the coachman, and the coachman went on his way. Teun loved the cold, and the smell of the cold air reminded him of home. Though this was not the time to think of home, he was here at the capitol far from Freisa for a reason, and he should not delay it. It did not take long for Teun to get inside and walk to the dinner hall. He was greeted by the sight of crowds of nobles sipping their drinks and talking among themselves. Among other things and after a few moments of scanning the room. An attendant approached him and offered him a drink. Teun took a drink and thanked the attendant before blending into the crowds.

It has been a good while since Teun had to visit Windstard, he remembers the first time he came to the capital. He was only fourteen at the time when the Emperor summoned his father. Teun was awed at the size and beauty of it but, that feeling has long since faded. Growing up had made him see things more clear or perhaps more biased towards his homeland. For not even the capital of the empire in his mind holds a candle to Iron Hold, his home. To his surprise, he saw a friendly face that approached him as soon as the two made eye contact. The man had red hair and was rather thin for a man of his size. "Paramount Teun," the man spoke with a friendly tone and offered his free hand. "It is good to see a familiar face at this ball."

Teun smiled and shook the man's hand with a firm grip, "Nice to see you, Lord Maarten, and it is nice to see someone that I know here."

"Likewise, Teun and I must say this is looking like a proper ball. Food, wine, music, what else do you need". He chuckled and took a sip of his drink. "Now if only the emperor would show up."

"The emperor has not shown up yet? Teun asked with a curious tone.

"No, not yet and I am wondering why he has not, the ball has been on for a while and it would seem he should show up now or soon." Maarten took another sip of his drink, and something caught his eye. "Excuse me, Teun but, I see that Lady Cynthia had arrived, and I must talk with her."

"Sure, Maarten, I know how much you like your sister in law, and if you want to continue this, I will be around." Teun stepped back to give Maarten space.

Without another word, Maarten departed company and left Teun alone. Teun had know Maarten for five years and is perhaps one of the few nobles he has met that looked past his status as a legitimatized bastard. If only his vassals were the same. Now that he was gone, Teun started to scan the room to spot who else is here that he knows. A few familiar faces he spotted, Khan Chelubey, the Emperor’s Fist Arn Hallstrom, and wait, is that a Raven? Teun looked at the Knight Raven and tried to make sure it was not obvious. Why is a Raven here, and I see they live up to their reputation of never leaving their armor. Surely he would have worn something else given the event. Teun guessed he was invited, and if a Raven is here, he wondered who else the new emperor has invited.

Though Teun as curious about the new emperor, he has not met that man but, has heard of his military prowess from fighting on the Eastern Front. What kind of emperor will this Vixis make he wondered as he sipped his drink. Teun was not a fan of the last emperor and who knows how his sons will handle things. Maybe Brandon will be a better emperor but, as long as Freisa wealth is drained from its coffers to the point that its people have suffered, Teun will not have high hopes for this new emperor. Rather than engage with talking with his fellow nobles, Teun opted to stay by himself until the emperor showed up of someone approached him.

[Nova Tawantinsuyu]

Robert Regania
The norming which the Robert lead 300 of his men through the city to the Blue Palace was cold and crisp. He'd brought them as much as a piece of showmanship as for protection or anything of the like. The two hundred or so of the finest of the Scarlet Lance's heavy horse knights and men at arms rode their powerfully built western lands bred warhorses in skilfully and disciplined knee to knee formation. That regularity and discipline in the formation would seem contrasting to an onlooker of the empire with the complete lack of uniformity in equipment. The only constant other than being well armoured was they wore a scarlet item somewhere about , their person, here it was a sash, there the shield, there a surcoat, a feather in the helmet, a painted, pauldron, helmet, besagew , even a cod piece. Beyond that some men world northern Gothic armour, some southern white armour, some wore armour more in fashion of the local imperial styles, poorer men at arms wore older partial plate or coat of plate with a surcoat. Although they all carried a lance their side arms varied, an arming sword might having been considered the default but many preferred longswords, others went for battle axes, smaller cavalry war hammers, maces, flails, cusped falchions, horseman's picks or mornign starts. Many carried personal coats of arms on their breastplate, their surcoats, their shields, their besagew. Behind them representatives of all the other elements of the army followed in.


They entered the outer region of the blue palace. Unit stood in formation under the wary eyes of the Golden Falcon as half a dozen men dismounted. Robert lept from his horse, giving the the massive stallion grey, Ira, a quick rub before turning to enter the inner areas of the palace. He was armoured in the northern gothic style the armour of his right arm painted crimson with the old family coat of arms in the form of a bear with a war hammer placed on the Besagew, he smelled strongly of the sweat of the ride in full armour, horses and some of the courtiers might have imagined just slightly blood to look at him. Gerald Walters, the second in command of the company and commander of infantry looked around at the palace. The two men had known each other since Robert was a child, the older man being a long time adjugent of his father, and Robert could read the man's mixed nervousness and appriciation for the imperial palace well. They had served the Imperial Throne for years as mercinaries but had never seen the palace itself and only on a handful of occassion Emperor Jakar. Although the infantyman's hands fidgetted neverously, as much as anything else from not being filled with his accustomed bec de corbin there was an impressive beauty about the place. Accompanied by a handful of other men the group proceeded into the palace.


When they reached a massive set of double doors a golden coat commander challanged them
"What business have you with my emperor my lord?"
He of course knew why by Robert had been warned of the small tradition.
"We seek to swear upon our swords to him and present him with the spoils of our victory for which was won in the imperial throne's name" Robert replied
The guard didn't seem quite to know what the last part meant but they passed through.
Robert of three of his men entered the room and knelt, laying their swords horizontally on their knees ready to swear their oaths of aligance to the new king.
"Your imperial majesty we come to pay homage and offer you a gift obtained the the service of your late and honoured father" Robert nodded to the two men who'd remained close to the door. The two men approached with a sack and spilled the contense out onto the floor of the throne room.
"Hands that rose swords against the imperial will your majesty"

[United Cyran Systems]

Overlord Velron Hakon led his caravan into Windstrad, riding atop a black destrier, clothed in long, black robes that went down to his shins, the Overlord of Hakim didn't go out of his way to attract attention, but many of the common folk stooped to gawk, or scowl, for a moment before returning to their work. The tan skin of Velron's elite bodyguard, called the Savaş Yeminli, and his carts full of tobacco he had brought as gifts to the Emperor, most likely made him look more like a merchant than a noble. Velron didn't care, as he wanted to surprise the Emperor with his meeting, though he guessed that the Emperor's advisers most likely would have notified him of the Overlord's presence. As he approached the gates of the Blue Palace, he straightened his back and raised his chin, before his herald said to the gate guards, "You stand before the honorable Velron Kaler Hakon, Marquis of Hakim, Overlord of Numeros, and loyal servant of the Empire. He has traveled far to represent his demesne in the Imperial Court, and humbly asks entrance to the Blue Palace." The herald finished, and returned to Velron's side. All Velron could do was wait until the gates opened and he was allowed entrance.

[Lisbane]

Sigeberht von Talmithewi

The night was quiet, the only sound that of the ever-flowing breeze that slowly made its way across the castle grounds. A man clad in armour, his helmet removed, stood lonely in the low light of a lamp. He stood nearly completely still, his eyes were blank, it was obvious his body was here at the castle, but that his mind had wandered thousands of miles away. The face of his son, his patchy beard and his rouge's eyes - definitely his son - then that fateful day, the sound of the carnage, a thousand roars of anguish and pain, covered by the constant bashing of swords and shields, the last vestiges of life that remained in Jakar's eyes and his sadness as they drained away.

"Sir!", Sigeberht nearly jumped out of his skin, a Golden Falcon had come to retrieve him. "Sir, the ball has started, they're expecting you." Sigeberht pushed the man aside and began walking to the ballroom. He could hear the faint voices of a hundred different guests as he grew closer, until eventually he was at the entrance. He took a moment to gather himself, a master of strategy - you would have thought he would treat a ball much the same as a battle - but Sigeberht was never good at plotting or talking, and a ball was a grand celebration of both these acts.

He marched into the room, a large smile plastered across his face, immediately he took a glass of rum - his favourite spirit - from a servant, and began to scan the room. He soon spotted that miserable excuse for a Commander, a peasant in noble clothing, Marius 'the Dam' Mariensis. Don't mistake Sigeberht, he respected the man's combat experience, his skill as a soldier and commander, but that only gets a man so far - the nobility are the rulers of this land, and so they should remain - as far as Sigeberht saw it, giving a man the title of Duke and granting him the right to establish a noble house was like dressing up a peasant and calling him "Mi'lord".

Nonetheless, Sigeberht wanted to speak to the man. They had both been there, when Jakar had died, his bodyguard's having failed him for the last time. Sigeberht sometimes blamed himself for his death, where was he? Holding some unsustainable line on the left flank - it was going to break anyway, a fool's errand - whilst the Emperor he swore to life and to die for was killed by some barbarian coward with a bow. Sigeberht scowled now, the very thought of the day brought a rage in him, which woman nor alcohol could keep.

Sigeberht slowly made his way over to Marius, chatting to some pompous southerners along the way. He noticed now, that Marius was already engaged, with another damn barbarian. Sigeberht knew the Blue Horde's was a strategic advantage in war, but he despised all barbarians - for they were uncivilized and and uncultured fools who take from whomever they wish without a regard for any damn law of any damn land. Needless to say, he simply waited for Marius to finish his conversation, gulping down his second glass of rum.

[Krugmar]

---

Blue Palace
Windstard

The evening air was cool and crisp, a luxury missed deep in the south, though the packed streets, abuzz with bodies and excitement, provided an all too familiar heat. The crowds had gathered to watch the spectacle: nobles, gentry, and genteels assembled at the new emperor's bidding. Soon they would attend to their own festivities and celebrations, but for now they parted to make way for the Grand Duke and his train of retainers, nobles, and tag-alongs.

Sylas had set out from Newgarden with a modest party, but his passage through the country had not gone unseen or unheard. Nobles from far and wide intent on ingratiating themselves with the new regime had attached themselves to his entourage. Even knights from Voy and chiefs of Skaria had doused their fiery pride to march beside and behind a figure of derision in their lands. They would detach soon enough, when the glam and glimmer of an entrance with the Chancellor had worn away and left the terrible reality behind.

As a result of having this enlargened entourage, his arrival at Windstard had been delayed by some days. He had intended to arrive several days before the Ball, but now had raced against the sun to arrive just in time.

Ahead of him marched the last of what he could only guess were Scarlet Lancers, or the Scarlet Lance's, he had had little business with them in the past. Their commander had seemingly decided to bring a small army with him, a bold move but Sylas thought that at its heart a move out of desire for attention and perhaps a fear of being overshadowed.

His entourage eventually arrived at the outer courtyard, and began dismounting or exiting their carriages. Sylas was helped from his horse by his squire, a young noble from Voy named Alair il Portegne. The squire was typical of Voyard appearance, having long dark hair and the signs of pale skin, which had since been darkened by the sun by his stay in the south. His amber eyes glowed in amazement at their surroundings, though Sylas could see slight shivers of bewilderment and fear.

"Alair, hold this" He said, handing him his a golden staff, shaped in the form of a sword, wrapped lightly with red silk, a physical sign of his overlordship of the Knolls. The boy took it instinctively.

Sylas shot a look at his company and found it a motley and diverse sort. From Skaria there were Solts, Skraggs, Imlits and Norrins, Parolts of Stambay and of Polharber, Gerlglires Red and White and a hundred more from every hill, valley, nook and cranny. From Voy there were the Saragnes and their rivals the Portegnes, L'Ors, Murgoets, Vanwallers, Silminas, Aratets, Sil Vexins and the Milarions. All were sworn to him, but few remembered their vows except at times as opportune as this.

From the south many had accompanied him too. Their vows were looser, but their loyalty to the Empire and himself constituted a reciprocal relationship stronger than the feudal oath. Among their number he recognised the Almagars, Cidis, Tyls, the Voyard Sallmaines of Tarhol, Mursids and Majars, Quellens, Black Turgans, Serrets and Sarais. There were many more faces, but their banners were hidden from him by sheer weight of numbers.

And standing uneasily together were several emissaries and nobles from the Southern Kingdoms, here as honoured guests.

Once properly settled, Sylas made his way to the main gate, which gave the signal to the small horde assembled with him to do so as well. He spotted the new Marquis of Hakim waiting for clearance by the gates, the southern marchers were always treated with undue suspicion and long waits. "My Lord Hakon, your wait is at an end." He said, the gates opening to allow his party inside.

"I had thought to have seen you among my entourage as we travelled north, though I am glad to know one of my Marchers is blessed with a little wisdom." He jested as though they were old friends. The Marquis was a stranger, newly ascended to his position. A new bond to be forged. One of many tonight.

[Ameriganastan]

Voluisse smiled warmly, but an astute observer would notice that the smile did not quite reach his eyes. ‘Perhaps, if the opportunity becomes available. But I was primarily referring to communication and information exchange. For example, if one of us hears an interesting rumour or needs someone else’s help to seize an opportunity, we could contact each other for mutual help, with each of us taking a share of the rewards.’ At least in theory, he thought. In practice, he would end up taking the choice bits of leverage or influence, with Gareth getting just enough to be satisfied. ‘I imagine an additional information source could be quite useful for someone in your position.’

Whatever gets this loathsome parasite away from me.

"Fine, yes. Rumors, rewards, etc. You'll be the first to hear."

He shook his hand and quickly walked away.

[Lisbane]

Dayid Nadhil al-Shaykh Waindur al-Sahra

The evening breeze flowed across Dayid's well-kept hair, his black cape slowly flowing with it. He had just observed the arrival of Sylas Sil Imris Vixis, the Royal Chancellor, Grand Duke, Duke of Skaria and Voy, and a hundred other different titles, at least to Dayid. Dayid has always hated these grand displays of power, they did nought but mark a man out as a target for all the base plotters and schemers of the court.

Dayid was no such man, he was a master of intrigue no less, and he had far greater plans for greater people. Nonetheless, he would have to at least try and show this noble up, imagine it - a mere courtier with a larger entourage than the Chancellor. No, that was unrealistic, but he could indeed make his presence known.

As the sun began to reach the horizon, the sky turning a blood red, Dayid finally embarked on his journey to the palace. He appeared out of a tavern, his hood up, and only a small bodygaurd behind him - not numbering more than four. However, as he ascended further and further up the city, more joined him. These men were not mere thugs either, hired from the lowest of the Empire's gutters, they were professional mercenaries, hired with a great amount of coin and trained in warfare and peacekeeping.

They were men trained and armed with pikes, halberds, and swords, more specifically some of these men were armed with a halberd or with a two-handed sword called a Zweihänder while another third were arquebusiers. Needless to say, once he reached the palace, his presence was definitely known. In his march through the city his entourage had ballooned to a great number of the highest merchants in the city, some of whom would be attending the ball, whilst his body gaurd now numbered five hundred.

Quickly, he dismissed his guard back to their patrol, and entered the hall. Immediately he was hit with the raucous of the party, a thousand different voices hit him all at once. He took a moment to gather himself, he had not seen a party this large in, well, ever really. He lowered his hood and displayed his costume - a white gambeson, decorated with golden inlay making various flowers of different kinds, matched with white trousers, and white gloves, similarly decorated to his gambeson.

Around his belt were six daggers, three to a side, these were ornately decorated, with a spectrum of precious gems - ruby, emerald, black opal, diamond, onyx, and amethyst. Smiling, he removed his cloak, and quickly began to socialize with all manner of people, but he tended towards the burghers of the city.

[United Cyran Systems]

(Image)

---

Blue Palace
Windstard

The evening air was cool and crisp, a luxury missed deep in the south, though the packed streets, abuzz with bodies and excitement, provided an all too familiar heat. The crowds had gathered to watch the spectacle: nobles, gentry, and genteels assembled at the new emperor's bidding. Soon they would attend to their own festivities and celebrations, but for now they parted to make way for the Grand Duke and his train of retainers, nobles, and tag-alongs.

Sylas had set out from Newgarden with a modest party, but his passage through the country had not gone unseen or unheard. Nobles from far and wide intent on ingratiating themselves with the new regime had attached themselves to his entourage. Even knights from Voy and chiefs of Skaria had doused their fiery pride to march beside and behind a figure of derision in their lands. They would detach soon enough, when the glam and glimmer of an entrance with the Chancellor had worn away and left the terrible reality behind.

As a result of having this enlargened entourage, his arrival at Windstard had been delayed by some days. He had intended to arrive several days before the Ball, but now had raced against the sun to arrive just in time.

Ahead of him marched the last of what he could only guess were Scarlet Lancers, or the Scarlet Lance's, he had had little business with them in the past. Their commander had seemingly decided to bring a small army with him, a bold move but Sylas thought that at its heart a move out of desire for attention and perhaps a fear of being overshadowed.

His entourage eventually arrived at the outer courtyard, and began dismounting or exiting their carriages. Sylas was helped from his horse by his squire, a young noble from Voy named Alair il Portegne. The squire was typical of Voyard appearance, having long dark hair and the signs of pale skin, which had since been darkened by the sun by his stay in the south. His amber eyes glowed in amazement at their surroundings, though Sylas could see slight shivers of bewilderment and fear.

"Alair, hold this" He said, handing him his a golden staff, shaped in the form of a sword, wrapped lightly with red silk, a physical sign of his overlordship of the Knolls. The boy took it instinctively.

Sylas shot a look at his company and found it a motley and diverse sort. From Skaria there were Solts, Skraggs, Imlits and Norrins, Parolts of Stambay and of Polharber, Gerlglires Red and White and a hundred more from every hill, valley, nook and cranny. From Voy there were the Saragnes and their rivals the Portegnes, L'Ors, Murgoets, Vanwallers, Silminas, Aratets, Sil Vexins and the Milarions. All were sworn to him, but few remembered their vows except at times as opportune as this.

From the south many had accompanied him too. Their vows were looser, but their loyalty to the Empire and himself constituted a reciprocal relationship stronger than the feudal oath. Among their number he recognised the Almagars, Cidis, Tyls, the Voyard Sallmaines of Tarhol, Mursids and Majars, Quellens, Black Turgans, Serrets and Sarais. There were many more faces, but their banners were hidden from him by sheer weight of numbers.

And standing uneasily together were several emissaries and nobles from the Southern Kingdoms, here as honoured guests.

Once properly settled, Sylas made his way to the main gate, which gave the signal to the small horde assembled with him to do so as well. He spotted the new Marquis of Hakim waiting for clearance by the gates, the southern marchers were always treated with undue suspicion and long waits. "My Lord Hakon, your wait is at an end." He said, the gates opening to allow his party inside.

"I had thought to have seen you among my entourage as we travelled north, though I am glad to know one of my Marchers is blessed with a little wisdom." He jested as though they were old friends. The Marquis was a stranger, newly ascended to his position. A new bond to be forged. One of many tonight.

Velron looked at Sylas and smiled. "My thanks, your royal highness. I have not been to the Blue Palace since I was a young boy, and have forgotten the suspicions us Marchers are given." As the gates opened, Velron, who had a sizable ego, bowed as low as he could on his horse and spoke. "Your royal highness, I believe should enter first due to your rank." In his head however, Velron cursed himself.

[Piscina]

Voluisse smiled warmly, but an astute observer would notice that the smile did not quite reach his eyes. ‘Perhaps, if the opportunity becomes available. But I was primarily referring to communication and information exchange. For example, if one of us hears an interesting rumour or needs someone else’s help to seize an opportunity, we could contact each other for mutual help, with each of us taking a share of the rewards.’ At least in theory, he thought. In practice, he would end up taking the choice bits of leverage or influence, with Gareth getting just enough to be satisfied. ‘I imagine an additional information source could be quite useful for someone in your position.’

Whatever gets this loathsome parasite away from me.

"Fine, yes. Rumors, rewards, etc. You'll be the first to hear."

He shook his hand and quickly walked away.

Voluisse watched Gareth walk away. ‘Well, that went a bit better.’ He muttered under his breath. There was a chance, however small, that the Royal Steward would remember his offer if there ever came a time when it would be useful to both of them. All in all, a minor success.

Looking around the room, he saw the Royal Fosterling had finished talking to the armoured raven. Dayfith could also be a very useful contact, as although the Fosterling had little power or influence personally, he probably knew a significant amount of people who had surfeits of both, being the Emperor’s cousin and the future king of Ye-ayn. He was also fourteen, if Voluisse remembered correctly, and that might make him easier to persuade or manipulate. It was important to remember though, that expectations are proven false extremely frequently in this palace.

Voluisse caught up with him as he began to walk further into the ballroom. ‘Excuse me, young prince, I have an offer that you may find... Useful, given your position in court. By the looks of things, you seem eager to approach others who may be of some use to you. My name is Voluisse Illudere, and I have a significant amount of influence in court, which I suspect will be very useful to you if it is used in your favour. Many things happen in this palace, and a lot of them go unnoticed. I think we could both benefit from an extra information source. What’s your opinion?

[The Verdantderm Lands]

Voluisse watched Gareth walk away. ‘Well, that went a bit better.’ He muttered under his breath. There was a chance, however small, that the Royal Steward would remember his offer if there ever came a time when it would be useful to both of them. All in all, a minor success.

Looking around the room, he saw the Royal Fosterling had finished talking to the armoured raven. Dayfith could also be a very useful contact, as although the Fosterling had little power or influence personally, he probably knew a significant amount of people who had surfeits of both, being the Emperor’s cousin and the future king of Ye-ayn. He was also fourteen, if Voluisse remembered correctly, and that might make him easier to persuade or manipulate. It was important to remember though, that expectations are proven false extremely frequently in this palace.

Voluisse caught up with him as he began to walk further into the ballroom. ‘Excuse me, young prince, I have an offer that you may find... Useful, given your position in court. By the looks of things, you seem eager to approach others who may be of some use to you. My name is Voluisse Illudere, and I have a significant amount of influence in court, which I suspect will be very useful to you if it is used in your favour. Many things happen in this palace, and a lot of them go unnoticed. I think we could both benefit from an extra information source. What’s your opinion?

Prince Dayfith

Dayvith paused, briefly eyeing the man who all but demanded his attention and not even gone through the nicety of a minimal conversation before getting to business..., in a way it was refreshing. He appeared to be scholarly and of an age similar to his Imperial cousin, thin, well-groomed and dressed, and pale. The man likely didn't go out into the sun very much.

"Master Illudere," answered the Prince and extended his hand to firmly clasp, not for displaying dominance, "well met. I have heard of you among the young people in the Court. I don't understand why my Uncle Jakar didn't get me lessons with you.., maybe he thought you had enough trouble with all of your other charges?"

Though likely more than ten years young than the man, they were close to the same height, Dayvith looked him levelly in the eye and continued, "But, you would have business with me of a mutually beneficial nature you say. If such dealings caused no concern to my cousin and Emperor, I would gladly hear more. However, I doubt I can offer you much more than coin, as I would a lawyer."

[Piscina]

Voluisse watched Gareth walk away. ‘Well, that went a bit better.’ He muttered under his breath. There was a chance, however small, that the Royal Steward would remember his offer if there ever came a time when it would be useful to both of them. All in all, a minor success.

Looking around the room, he saw the Royal Fosterling had finished talking to the armoured raven. Dayfith could also be a very useful contact, as although the Fosterling had little power or influence personally, he probably knew a significant amount of people who had surfeits of both, being the Emperor’s cousin and the future king of Ye-ayn. He was also fourteen, if Voluisse remembered correctly, and that might make him easier to persuade or manipulate. It was important to remember though, that expectations are proven false extremely frequently in this palace.

Voluisse caught up with him as he began to walk further into the ballroom. ‘Excuse me, young prince, I have an offer that you may find... Useful, given your position in court. By the looks of things, you seem eager to approach others who may be of some use to you. My name is Voluisse Illudere, and I have a significant amount of influence in court, which I suspect will be very useful to you if it is used in your favour. Many things happen in this palace, and a lot of them go unnoticed. I think we could both benefit from an extra information source. What’s your opinion?

Prince Dayfith

Dayvith paused, briefly eyeing the man who all but demanded his attention and not even gone through the nicety of a minimal conversation before getting to business..., in a way it was refreshing. He appeared to be scholarly and of an age similar to his Imperial cousin, thin, well-groomed and dressed, and pale. The man likely didn't go out into the sun very much.

"Master Illudere," answered the Prince and extended his hand to firmly clasp, not for displaying dominance, "well met. I have heard of you among the young people in the Court. I don't understand why my Uncle Jakar didn't get me lessons with you.., maybe he thought you had enough trouble with all of your other charges?"

Though likely more than ten years young than the man, they were close to the same height, Dayvith looked him levelly in the eye and continued, "But, you would have business with me of a mutually beneficial nature you say. If such dealings caused no concern to my cousin and Emperor, I would gladly hear more. However, I doubt I can offer you much more than coin, as I would a lawyer."

Voluisse smiled warmly as he returned the handshake. ‘I also don’t know why your uncle, may the gods let him rest in peace, chose not to have you tutored by myself. You seem to be quite eloquent and observant, and I imagine that you would have been a pleasure to teach, had I the opportunity.

Suddenly, Voluisse realised that he actually meant that. The Royal Fosterling could have been an excellent student, as he clearly had the natural talent to learn the arts of intrigue and diplomacy. It was fairly easy to see that the late Emperor hadn’t selected experts to teach him in those areas, as that may have made him more of a threat.

‘Indeed, I would be happy to tutor you in the arts of intrigue, if you so wish, and if the new Emperor allows it. Some of my older students will come of age in a few weeks, and one of the reasons I am attending this very ball is to find some entertaining scandal or plot to fill my time once that happens, so I do have the time for it. As for the arrangement that I was suggesting, it would be useful for both of us to have an extra pair of ears when navigating the dangerous eddies and currents in the court, so each of us would benefit from being told useful or threatening information or rumours by the other. I suspect that things are going to get quite interesting in the next few weeks and months, given the coronation of Emperor Brandon. Many people have activities that they fear the new Emperor will notice, and so they will accelerate them to get them over with as quickly as possible. As for payment for this hypothetical arrangement, none is required. I often find that leverage and tidbits of important information are more useful than money here.’

[The Verdantderm Lands]

Voluisse smiled warmly as he returned the handshake. ‘I also don’t know why your uncle, may the gods let him rest in peace, chose not to have you tutored by myself. You seem to be quite eloquent and observant, and I imagine that you would have been a pleasure to teach, had I the opportunity.

Suddenly, Voluisse realised that he actually meant that. The Royal Fosterling could have been an excellent student, as he clearly had the natural talent to learn the arts of intrigue and diplomacy. It was fairly easy to see that the late Emperor hadn’t selected experts to teach him in those areas, as that may have made him more of a threat.

‘Indeed, I would be happy to tutor you in the arts of intrigue, if you so wish, and if the new Emperor allows it. Some of my older students will come of age in a few weeks, and one of the reasons I am attending this very ball is to find some entertaining scandal or plot to fill my time once that happens, so I do have the time for it. As for the arrangement that I was suggesting, it would be useful for both of us to have an extra pair of ears when navigating the dangerous eddies and currents in the court, so each of us would benefit from being told useful or threatening information or rumours by the other. I suspect that things are going to get quite interesting in the next few weeks and months, given the coronation of Emperor Brandon. Many people have activities that they fear the new Emperor will notice, and so they will accelerate them to get them over with as quickly as possible. As for payment for this hypothetical arrangement, none is required. I often find that leverage and tidbits of important information are more useful than money here.’

Prince Dayfith

Dayfith frowned. He was old enough and enough of a realist that rumor and scandal were weapons when sword and shield were not practical, but he had hoped when he became king to have wise men advise him truthfully. This proposed arrangement for skulduggery made him uncomfortable. Just speaking with the man, if he had a reputation for conspiracy, was dangerous. What should he do? Disengage as politely as possible so as not to draw unwanted attention to their meeting.

"Master Illudere," the Prince replied, "I would welcome the opportunity to hear your lecture in public and would attempt to obtain any books on the matter that you would care to suggest. But I'm certain that you're aware that until I find out how my cousin wishes to engage with my family and my father's kingdom, I can only treat you as a professional. It would be quite ill for me if it was believed I was doing something suspicious."

Dayfith offered the scholar his hand again, to show the man he bore no ill will to him, and said, "If you become aware of something that would greatly displease my cousin, something that would go badly for you if openly told to him in front of witnesses and do not feel you have his ear, it would be my patriotic duty to help him and tell him who to reward."

"Good luck, Master Illudere," the Prince wished, "and for heaven's sake stay out of trouble."

With a nod of the head, Prince Fawr turned away.

When would his Aunt Talia be arriving....

[Of the Quendi]

The Empire of Vexia
The Blue Palace, in the City of Windstard
Under the Sovereignty of Brandon Vixis I

---

Princess Talia

---

The gates to the grand dinning hall of the Blue Palace was suddenly and rapidly flung open alerting the myriad of courtiers there gathered to the arrival of a guest too prominent to enter discreetly. Heralds in imperial livery with silver trumpets entered the hall receiving the attention of the courtiers and for a moment a murmur rose from the hall; "the emperor is coming" the murmur went in voices ranging from excitement, to fear, as the heralds blew their trumpets, and the courtiers naturally gravitated towards the gates already halfway prostrate. Yet when the heralds took their trumpets from their mouths it was not the emperor they announced. But it was close. "Presenting, the Princess Talia Vixis, daughter of the late His Majesty Jakar III Vixis, by the Grace of the Gods, Emperor of Vexia and sister of His Majesty Brandon Vixis, by the Grace of the Gods, Emperor of Vexia, her sons the princes Corineus and Maximinian Corino and her daughter Princess Cordelia." The heralds shouted.

Princess Talia entered the dinning hall on the arm of her eldest son, followed by a large group of guards and attendants. To the courtiers who gathered around her the princess appeared regal and beautiful. Her clothes were simple by comparison to much of the opulence of court. She was in mourning after the recent demise of her father and wore an all white shapeless gown that concealed her shapely form with a veil covering her fine long dirty blond hair, no jewels or other ornaments did she wear, no perfume or cosmetic adornment had been applied to her. Her forehead was besmirched with a bit ash, creating a sharp contrast between the dark dirt and the pale unblemished skin of the princess. Garbed so simply absent any of her usual fineries the princess yet possessed an aura of dignified and regal mourning that was undeniable. Many a richly garbed magnate's wife or daughter seemed common and simple, by compare, and without seemingly caring or making any effort the princess seemed to keep the half prostrate attention of the dinning hall even as she was revealed not to be the emperor but only his sister. A multitude of faces filled with awe and deference greeted the mournfully dignified countenance of the princess as she slowly strode into the dinning hall on her son's arm. What thoughts went through the head of this the eldest child of Jakar III, this in-all-but-name empress of Vexia as she made her way through the hall, passage automatically clearing for her?

Did she look out on a court filled with new men from distant lands, peasants and soldiers elevated by her brother, with whom she had no existing relationships with disdain? Had some of these people already earned the fearsome displeasure of the imperial princess? Or was the thoughts of the princess perhaps closer to home, on the two maidens walking behind her and Prince Corineus the Younger? Pretty as Prince Cordelia was the other girl attending the princess, some noble from distant Ye-Ayn which the princess had recently taken into her household was prettier still. Did this fact anger the imperial princess? Her demeanor gave away no signs however eagerly many courtiers observed her trying to discern her most imperial mood.

Behind her immaculate facade the princess had thought both things but as she slowly strolled throng the dinning hall towards the head of the table and the places of the highest honor her musings was rather more philosophical in nature. The death of a parent was always an occasion to consider ones own life in relation to ones mortality. With half her life now behind her and with the change in her circumstances that the death of her father and accession of her brother was bound to cause Talia took stock. She played no role in the governance of the empire. A woman she held no offices or titles and exercised no imperial authority, nor could she. She was divorced from any real power and had been since entering the world from her mother's womb a girl not a boy.

No that was not entirely true. Before Brandon's birth she had had at least the faint promise of a life of real power. But once a male heir existed Talia had been prepared, not for rule, but for marriage and a life of domesticity and maternity not power. Growing up she had resented her own impotence and insignificance and sought to rebel against it and fashion for herself a role of importance. She had studied statecraft, religion, law, philosophy, diplomacy and history excelling in it all. She had devoted herself with single-minded determination to become as knowledgable and capable an imperial magistrate as she could. She had exceeded every noble born boy in the Blue Palace in every respect. Yet as they were granted various offices and positions Talia had been granted a husband. A man more than twice her age, of a stern humorless disposition, with grown children from his first marriage.

Her story could have ended there. Just another imperial princess married off to some worthy dignitary, a story so common in the history of the empire that no historian would bother to waste two lines in even the most meticulous chronicle on it. But for her it had not been so. The death of her mother, her marriage to the foremost imperial bureaucrat had placed her in a position of, if not power and authority the like of which her father and husband exercised but then the second best thing. Divorced from all authoritative power over the affairs of the empire, Talia possessed that most wondrous of wonderful substitutes and had spent a decade cultivating it. She had influence.

Influence was not authority. Influence could not command legions or demand submission. But that did not mean that there was not power in influence. While her brother, her husband and the other dignitaries of the empire might think power rested only in the authority of their orders and commandments Talia begged to differ. Brandon could compel people to obey his orders against their own wishes, but Talia had found that with some effort she could change the wishes of people to more closely mimic her own. Her taciturn old husband made for the perfect example. Prince Corineus's loyalty to the emperor was absolute and he would obey without question any order given him, but more often than not he disagreed with his orders and carried them out grudgingly. Over the course of their marriage on the other hand Talia, who could have never ordered her husband to do anything, had managed to change the beliefs of the man on some minor issues. Her power over her spouse was more subtle but also more profound than was the emperor's.

Of course it was one thing to influence ones spouse, even if Corineus was one of the most stubborn and implacable men Talia had ever known, and quite another to influence strangers. But over her years at court Talia had learned that it was not so hard. Most courtiers would go very very far to ingratiate themselves with the sister of the emperor. They would respond to her attention and favor by over time accepting her views and ideas as their own. A clear example was the question of the succession. While Vexian law was adamantly opposed to a female emperor by the time of Talia's introduction to court it had been unclear if it was equally impermissible for the throne to be inherited through the female line. After the birth of her first son Corin, Talia had become an advocate of the idea of succession through female line.

Talia looked around the throne hall smiling to various acquaintances, receiving their grateful and servile smiles in turn as they enjoyed the recognition. Many of the people she looked at now shared her belief and advocated it alongside her when a decade ago they had considered the notion abhorrent and fought it. Was she absent real power and real authority clearly Talia had shown that much could be accomplished if one just possessed influence.

But alas the princess had learned the hard way that influence had a more elusive and subtle quality than authority. It required a constant ongoing effort just to be maintained, let alone increased. Court acquaintances required constant cultivation. They expected to be remembered and to be shown favor in order to in turn subconsciously align their views with her own. That was why court life had become such an integral feature of Talia's existence. Only through the constant mingling with nobles in settings such as this celebration of Brandon's accession was her influence preserved. Like now the issue of all the new men Brandon brought. These 'soldiers', as Talia disparagingly thought of them, was largely unknowns to her. She had not spent years influencing them and bending them to her will.

Without allowing her facade of regally dignified mourning to crack but for a moment Talia's gaze wandered through the dinning hall. It fell upon the khan of the Blue Horde in conversation with the very newly minted duke of Aresaria while some knight looked on. A savage and a peasant, neither friends of hers, Talia thought. Where they foes though? Her husband, Talia knew, spoke highly of the khan's martial prowess. There was, she supposed, a place for good soldiers. Personally Talia had long lost any appetite in the endless eastern wars. That was perhaps the problem with all of Brandon's 'soldier's'. They had rushed to the capital to "change", to "reform", to "restore" the empire; but what did they have to show for all their wars in the east? The Khuphate remained a threat to the empire, was the people who had spent two generations without defeating those barbarians really the people best suited to restore the glory of the Vixis Dynasty? Still the Khan was at least a noble. The so-called 'Duke of Aresaria' most certainly not. And while being born a peasant was perhaps a forgivable transgression Talia could not but dislike the man. He had replaced an old and trusted ally of hers as commander of the Golden Falcon. A man of noble birth who knew his place and could be relied upon to faithfully serve the empire. Could the same be said for this complete unknown who now held the hugely influential and dangerous office of commander of the Golden Falcons? Attended by six Golden Falcons, befitting her station as an imperial, in addition to six Corino house guards the reliability of the commander of the Golden Falcons was no academic discussion. If he proved false Talia and her family could be in mortal danger. The six falcons that attended her she trusted. They had served her for far longer than the 'duke' had held his position. But what of the rest of the falcons? It was a large and powerful, too large and too powerful, corps. Talia made a promise to learn as much as possible about the new 'duke' his virtues and his vices, his strengths and his vulnerabilities, his political leanings and his loyalties.

As the princess passed by the khan and the 'duke' she inclined her head in the slightest of imperial nods towards them, a sign of greater respect than the princess usually showed anyone. As she passed by the two men her eyes continued searching the dinning hall for interesting people. The faintest echo of a smile appeared in her eyes for a fleeting moment as she saw Prince Dayfith being chatted up by the scholar Voluisse Illudere. The man had talked to someone in a captain's armor when Talia entered and with the new steward a career bureaucrat, but now seemed eager to court Talia's cousin. Illudere's was clearly a man in a hurry to make political connections which amused Talia so much that she gave her cousin a smile as she passed them by. Dayfith's obvious commitment to his homeland ensured that he was no real rival to Talia's sons in the imperial line of succession and she quite liked the boy. She was also quite determined to see him soon married to Lady Siwan. It would be best for the girl and it might also be best for Dayfith, and it would certainly be best for Talia.

Somwhere in the dinning hall the other steward was speaking to the Emperor's Fist. Two deeply untrustworthy men those. Yet empires are built by untrustworthy men and Talia's suspicions of the pair did not preclude her from allying with them if they could prove useful. And if not, well the royal executioner, who for reasons beyond Talia's comprehension had been invited to Brandon's ball where he seemed determined to make everyone ill at ease, could perhaps deal with them. Somewhere in the crowd a man Talia knew only by reputation. Dayid ... Something. A monger of whores and purveyor of vice. The 'duke' of Aresaria was a proper Mexialus by comparison to that unseemly man, and if the invitation of the royal executioner was bizarre the invitation of this Dayid creature was outright revolting. But maybe the man was not invited at all? Talia did not think it beyond a character of his ill and sinister repute to show up unbidden. In his own way that man was more dangerous than the royal executioner and the 'duke' of Aresaria combined. Whether the man was friend or foe was an issue of vital importance. Literally. No doubt he could prove a powerful tool in her hands if he could be made a friend, but just as clearly he was a threat to her life if he became an enemy. Determining which he was and how then to treat him would be a priority for the princess.

Talia looked away from the whoremonger. An imperial, Teun Ravn, in conversation with someone not of Talia's acquaintance briefly caught her eyes. A pair of distinguished elder magnates quietly discussing the presence of large continent of mercenaries at the entrance to the Blue Palace, a tedious collection of young male courtiers smiling and admiring Cordelia and Siwan without daring to approach the attendants of their emperor's sister without her permission. Most of the important people at court was gathered in the dinning hall. Absent, apart from the emperor himself of course, was only Talia's uncle, her only true peer at the Vixis Court and her husband, who had nought but contempt for balls and would arrive only at the last minute, and only because Brandon expected it.

Talia reached the head of the table. Stepping up to the grand chair of the emperor he turned to look out at the courtiers assembled. Two guards, a knight of the Golden Falcon and a captain of the Corino house guards stepped forth with pikes in their hands. In unison they banged their pikes in the ground twice to draw attention to their mistress. Princess Talia had been before her father's death the hostess of any imperial ceremony in the Blue Palace. Whether she held the same rights under her brother was not clear, but it was clear that Talia herself believed so. With great confidence and calm she stepped forward peering out at the hundreds of gazes turned towards her. "My ladies, my lords. On behalf of his Majesty the Emperor and myself I wish to welcome all of you to this imperial ball and thank you for your attendance, that I am sure greatly pleases my illustrious brother. On this occasion, the first great assembly of court since the death of my father, your emperor, it becomes his daughter to remember her father. The empire may have lost a sovereign, our ruler for five decades, but my brother and I have lost a beloved father whose wise counsel and love we are now forever deprived of. But of course an emperor is in truth the father not only of his own children but of the whole of the empire, and I know you all share the grief of my brother and I. But alas good people of Vexia be of good cheer for I say to you that ..." The Princess paused for a moment taking a goblet of wine given her by Lady Siwan raising it before she finished her speech. "The emperor is dead; long live the emperor!" Princess Talia declared, taking a sip of her wine as court repeated her toast. Then, as Prince Corin pulled out the chair on the place of honor at the right hand of the emperor's grand chair for his mother, she said a few more words. "His Majesty will be with us shortly, you may take your seats." With that princess Talia sat down, awaiting the arrival of her brother.

[The Verdantderm Lands]

Prince Dayfith

The Prince of Ye-ayn drew an involuntary breath as his Aunt Talia and her entourage of children crossed the ballroom floor. The boys held no interest to him. As women go, Dayfith knew that his aunt had been gifted with a goodly amount of feminine beauty that mostly remained throughout her years. It seemed to have bred truly, as her daughter, Cordelia, had inherited a great deal of her mother's comeliness. Indeed, Dayfith had sometimes entertained notions courting the girl, or at least perhaps stealing a kiss under a sprig of mistletoe. But now he saw his aunt's new lady in waiting and it seemed that time had stopped. This must be Siwan, the daughter of the Count of Mêl.

Siwan wore a dress and bodice of green, as well as a mostly sheer veil of a color not quite green or blue. One might think the veil would soften any flaws a face might have, but the girl's face was obviously flawless, he thought. The veil only added the smallest amount of mystery to her, the mystery of how many hearts might break if she removed it. Her body seemed perfect, as well, the gown both accenting her girlish figure and leaving one to wonder how she might look in private.

The stories Prince Dayvith had heard did not exaggerate, Siwan Elspeth Lehr was indeed, "The Rose of Ye-ayn". Indeed, he imagined after tonight it could be possible the poets and minstrels would be calling her, "The Rose of the Empire."

Dayfith resolved, as soon decorum allowed, to greet his cousin, second cousins, and perhaps the most beautiful girl in the world.

---

Siwan Elspeth Lehr

The new lady in waiting to the Imperial Princess hid well her anxiety. She had been to her King's Court and had been impressed. The Imperial Court, however, was so much larger and stranger. As she followed the Princess, she glanced at the assemblage from the corners of her eyes. She felt their gaze and felt very small. No, she thought, think of your duties to the Princess and all will be well.

When the time came, Siwan gave the Princess her goblet and joined everyone in the announcement and toast. When she had lowered her own goblet, she saw a tall and comely young man looking directly at her. He wore fine linens of green and antique white, a royal circlet of gold atop his head of thick black hair.... Was this Prince Dayfith?

[Union Princes]

Knights Raven
After Prince Dayfith turned to talk to another courtier, someone that Gelt had not encountered before, the Grand Marshal immediately resumed his stance becoming a display for all to see. All traces of movement of life vanished as if he became a man carved from stone. Even within eavesdropping distance, Gelt maintained his respect and ignored the conversation between Prince Dayfith and Voluisse. Like an undead spirit, the Raven kept his eyes close behind his mask while he let his ears do all of the whispering. Court intrigue was not his business as Gelt was focused on seeing one man in particular.

The arrival of Princesses Talia, without the emperor, was unexpectant. The knight silently opened his eyes while he scanned the Princess and her retinue. They would find more comfort being stared by owls and vultures then being under the gaze of Gelt. Although, Talia’s scornful look signaled his unwelcomed staring. Nonetheless, when everyone took their eat to give a toast to the Emperor, Gelt remained standing, immobile and immovable.

[Lisbane]

Dayid Nadhil al-Shaykh Waindur al-Sahra

Dayid's conversation with a rather insignificant guild master was cut short as the thunderous noise of trumpets filled the hall. He looked to the doors, and there she was. Princess Talia, daughter of the late Emperor and sister to new. A woman of great influence, and little power. Dayid had a certain disdain for woman, in his eyes they were good for two things, marriage and whoring - and the odd assassination. Nevertheless, he respected those woman that carved their own place in the world, one dominated by men, for it was not an easy task in any sense of the word - nor could they gloat to their inferiors, for they were all men. He followed her as she elegantly made her way through the hall, scanning the room. That was until, her eyes met his, were at once he gave her a sly smile.

Dayid was interested in the woman, not sexually of course - he had whores ten times more beautiful and a hundred more experienced - but rather in her influence, especially with her brother. Dayid did not take Brandon to be easily influenced by his sister, but as Talia knew all too well a word here and there can greatly change a man's outlook. No doubt, he had plans for Talia and he was sure she had plans for him. As she spoke, and toasted to the Emperor, Dayid moved closer to the royal table - he was not a man who respected the hierarchy of seating, for no one would dare to displace him.

Quickly, as she commanded the hall to sit, he took the chair of one of the highest guild-masters in the city, his protests were cut short as Dayid slipped one of his daggers very slightly out of its scabbard and said with a monotone voice "There are many, sir, who would see you dead in this chair, do not incline me to be one of them" and with that he walked slowly away, still grumbling under his breath. If all went well, Talia either would not notice the incident, or she would take it as an opportunity to communicate to Dayid his welcome - or, if she responded badly, his unwelcome. Nevertheless, he took off his gloves, and sat elegantly with his legs crossed and a goblet of wine raised just below his mouth.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

“New at the job, huh?” Marius said as he patted the lad on the shoulder. It was remarkable how similar their situations were. Just recently being charged with the protection of the life of their monarch. A single mistake could destroy everything. A personal relationship with their charge… And yet, Marius felt distinct. He was, in the eyes of the capital, clearly higher in rank than the bodyguard of a khan. He wondered in how many of the same engagements the two had been before, oblivious of each other’s existence.

“I hope the capital is not giving you too much trouble. The Golden Falcon is here to assist should any trouble arise. The locals don’t seem too keen”

From the corner of his eye, Marius spotted Sigeberht von Talmithewi. He had hardly spoken with the man, his a captain of the Aresian Guard, since the battle that had killed the former emperor. Seeing the man sent shivers down his spine. The smell of sweat and dust kicked up by hundreds of hooves poured back into his memory for a second. A faint smell of gunpowder… The sudden sound of whizzing arrows burying themselves in shields, and flesh…

Sigeberht von Talmithewi had to know the khan of the Blue Horde, of course. Both were no strangers to the eastern front. So, Marius signaled to the captain to join them. He tried to do it in a friendly, compassionate manner, but too late he realized that his gesture might be mistaken for an order. It felt wrong to beckon a man almost twice his senior, who had been a guard when Marius was born. He hoped to get on the good side of his Captain, it would make his time in service of the new emperor so much lighter.

[Yaruqo]

Count Vissarion noticed the Princess Talia and sighed. She would have made a fine leader, if not for her circumstance. He had no doubt that she would be chafing under her brother, but ultimately decided to think nothing of it. After all, he was only there to see the new Emperor ascend to the throne, pay homage and swear fealty, and then return to Argmidta. But, nonetheless, he obliged the Imperial princess when she requested that they all take a seat, taking a seat next to a guildmaster - oh wait, no, not a guildmaster. Some stranger, it seemed, had moved him out of his seat, and was now looking quite confident and smug. What a dolt, doing such a thing in front of the Princess, he thought to himself. But, rather than make a scene with a complete stranger, he simply bowed his head in the direction of Princess Talia, and tried to find someone to talk to.

[Krugmar]

---

Blue Palace
Windstard

"I suppose it would be proper decorum, but many have already entered before me, and we all enter before the Emperor." He shook his head, "No, walk beside me, at least to the main hall." He said as they passed through the gate. A breeze fluttered by and he suppressed a shiver. His clothes were southern in style, black upon black with a rich red and golden sash. Black was the colour of mourning, but it had been his preference for some time.

"I found a certain trust in the Marchers that I do not expect to find here in the capital. Word reaches me that my nephew has brought with him soldiers, hounds of war, and glory hunters. Peace is a vexing task, as we in the south know, but it is a lesson I intend the east to learn. I trust you share my ambitions? Loyalty the Empire never goes unrewarded." He said, his grey eyes staring intently at Velron for a second before flickering away.

"Ah, we are here. I shall not saddle you with my presence any longer, but do think on what I have said."

The elaborate and gargantuan doors to the main hall opened, and Sylas made his way in, followed closely by his page, and then by his entourage. "Presenting, the Grand Duke Sylas Sil Imris Vixis, son of His Majesty Imris II Vixis by the Grace of the Gods, Emperor of Vexia, brother to the his late Majesty Jakar III Vixis, by the Grace of the Gods, Emperor of Vexia, uncle to His Majesty Brandon Vixis, by the Grace of the Gods, Emperor of Vexia. The Chancellor of Vexia, Duke of Skaria and Voy, Marquis of Wyr, and Master of the Knolls." The heralds shouted.

Sylas could see that he had just missed a speech, and he had heard the muffled end of it as he had approached the hall. The guests had begun to take their seats, though heads had naturally turned as the heralds gave their lengthy introduction. He spotted knights, commanders, nobles, courtiers, and foreigners. Names and faces he did not know or did not remember. Seated to the right of the his nephew's grand chair was an unmistakable face, that of his niece. Sylas had enjoyed warm relations with Jakar's children, but his absence for near two decades had likely left him a distant ghost for his family. Letters had been often at first, but dwindled as time moved on and the children grew up.

Once he had been the Lion of Skaria, with a thick mane of blonde hair, and vivid eyes that had captivated many maidens. He had kept to the latest fashions, and even set some himself. His accent was that of the capital, though with a Voyard twang. That lion had long since perished, for he was now the Shryke. His hair was dull and balding, his eyes were dim and some would even say lifeless. His fashion and accent now reflected the southern style, and maidens were far from his interest now.

Seated near his niece was one such maiden he would have dedicated every and any tourney to. A prize for younger men, who perhaps could not spot the danger lurking beneath the flower. Sylas had found that often the most beautiful creatures were the most venomous. He did not know where Brandon's heart lay, but any such notions with this maid would have to be quashed. Sylas had grander plans for his nephew.

He recognised the Prince of Ye-ayn, though he was much changed since Sylas' visit many years ago. A relation of some kind to himself, and cousin to his nephew. A man in the line of succession, but not a Vixis. Perhaps as loyal as they come, but Sylas could not be sure. He would need to be contained, and married off elsewhere to dilute his claims to the succession.

As he made his way to his niece he spotted a Raven Knight, one in full armour. He could not be sure, but he assumed it was their Grand Marshal. The Knights Raven were in Sylas' mind dangerous fanatics, up-jumped bandits with possession of serious finances. Another problem to be solved, but one that lent itself to Sylas' solution.

After an age of traversing around the table, he finally reached his niece. "Your Royal Highness, it has been many a year but I see your beauty has grown with each day." He noticed her children near her, possible heirs to the Empire, should all go wrong. "I am sorry to have missed your speech, I had hoped to arrive sooner but events, and a baggage train, overtook me." He said, though his eyes scanned the room for her missing husband. He had heard that the Prince Corino was not a man to be taken lightly. Such a man, with his place and connection to Sylas' niece, would make a great ally or a terrible foe. The former, preferably.

[United Cyran Systems]

Velron bowed once again. "Of course, your royal highness." Velron walked by Sylas, noting his titles as he entered. He excused himself from the Grand Duke's entourage as Sylas approached the Imperial Princess. Velron looked at Talia, noting the absence of Prince Corino. He knew she could be a powerful adversary, and her husband quite possibly even more so, but he knew he would have to curry favor with her if he wanted power and influence in the Imperial Court, He also noted that the Duke of Aresaria, Marius 'the Dam' Mariensis. He had no ill will towards the former peasant, since many of his own court had come from the peasantry, but he also recognized the power Marius held. As a Duke, he was a title above the Marquis, and he also commanded the Golden Falcon. Velron began to walk over to him when he saw who the Duke was talking to. Chelubey Khan of the Blue Horde. Velron was thinking of what to say when he saw the Duke motion for someone else to join them, and looking in the direction that the Duke had motioned in and saw Count Sigeberht von Talmithewi. He was did not feel threatened by Sigeberht, as he felt that unless the Count challenged him to a duel he could lie his way around any uncomfortable questions. He then walked over to the Khan and Marius and bowed low. "Your Grace, I congratulate you on your successes. My father once longed to become a duke, but sadly was never given the chance. And to command the Golden Falcon! I envy you're successes greatly. But I am forgetting myself. I am Marquis Velron Kaler Hakon, Marquis of Hakim and Overlord of Numeros." He smiled wolfishly and turned to the Khan, bowed again, and said, "Your Excellency, I have heard of your battle prowess from rumour, first hand accounts by my father, and legend, but I have sadly never been privileged to fight with you." He rose from his bowing stance and smiled, hoping he had not made a grievous error in talking with the Duke and Khan.

[Of the Quendi]

The Empire of Vexia
The Blue Palace, in the City of Windstard
Under the Sovereignty of Brandon Vixis I

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Princess Talia

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Even in mourning Princess Talia was a courteous woman, in every sense of the word, vain, shallow and witty she toasted the courtiers from her seat without pretense. Yet behind her graceful comportment and easy manners a keen mind observed which courtiers joined in her toast and which did not and that information was not forgotten. More than a thousand years of Vixis rule would not end on Talia's watch. The Emperor, her brother. Such complicated feelings did he stir in Talia. Could this man she had not seen for years, a rake who had wasted years of his life in a fruitless pursuit of victory against the Khuphate, hold together the Vexian Empire? Looking at the men he surrounded himself with Talia doubted it. She feared that in a moment when the Empire needed an emperor it had gotten a general instead.

Not for the first time in her life a thought, unbidden and unwelcome, came to Talia, but she swiftly discarded it. A son before a daughter. Always, regardless of age, or worth. That was law, ordained by the authority of the emperors and sanctioned by the gods, and Talia neither could nor wanted to change it. Yet nevertheless every once in a while in unguarded moments the thought came to her. Why not? Who better? For a moment Talia allowed her gaze to survey court. Men of quality stood side by side with commoners, graceful courtiers with brute soldiers, magnates and knights, scholars and bureaucrats, subject princes and provincial governors. There was unquestionable talent and skill in the hall of Talia's fathers. Many there present could govern, but none like her could rule Talia knew.

She dismissed the thought with a feeling of guilt. Man's law and gods decrees could not be set aside, and Talia had dwelled more than she should on an unseemly notion. Instead she looked briefly towards her eldest and a warm smile reached her eyes. Further down the table Corin was politely pulling a chair for his sister. Handsome, strong, intelligent, just and astute. Corin possessed all his father's virtues and none of his vices, and from Talia he had inherited the dignity and grace of rulers. As young men was want he dreamed of fighting for the empire on some distant front and possessed excessively notions of chivalry and honor but to a point even these faults of youth were virtues. Yes, with proper guidance Corin the Younger could be a truly great emperor.

Talia's musings was interrupted by some commotion further down the table. Some tedious guild master it seemed had been banished from his seat by the whoremonger Dayid al-Sahra. The uncouth behavior of the whoremonger amused Talia, she did not much care for guilds and their masters. No doubt the guild master was an important man in his own way and no doubt his trade was hugely consequential to the Windstard economy, but to elevate commoners to the imperial table and permit them to engage in tedious expositions on the intricacies of their trade was a step too far in Talia's estimation. Whatever else could be said for whoremongers at least they weren't likely to talk shop at the emperor's table.

Putting aside her mirth Talia observed the whoremonger, and the count beside him taking their seat. The count was one Vissarion of Taymna, Talia to her surprise recalled. A count from a border region not often at court was not a man the imperial princess was like to recall so what about ... Oh yes, Talia recalled it, the man had made quite the local scandal when he married a southern princess, or what passed for a princess in the savage south. People close to Talia had spoken to her of this man before. Some to sing his praise calling him a visionary, a man with novel ideas who might bring stability and peace to the empire. Others, rather more bluntly, to suggest a noose be put around the man's neck. Talia looked forward to figure out which of these options she would find best.

It occurred to the princess that both the count and the whoremonger, odd table mates, had sat down after she invited court to do just that. She had not observed if either man had joined her toast but in this willingness to follow her lead in something so small as taking a seat perhaps she could deduce some sort of signaling of allegiance? Or perhaps they where just tired of standing. Time would tell. Talia discreetly observed the pair. A dangerous man and an interesting man. Talia needed the former on her side or she needed him neutralized, everything else was too dangerous. The later was perhaps needed not by Talia but by the empire? Perhaps he had something to offer. Perhaps he deserved Talia's imperial favor and patronage for his controversial private peace project in the south?

Talia had no more time the ponder if, but she would at a later time, for now her uncle approached. Grand Duke Sylas had entered the dinning hall just after Talia's small speech and now he approached her at the dinning table. Talia stood up to greet her uncle with a smile that was as warm as a woman in mourning could permit herself. A memory from no less than thirty years ago occurred to Talia of herself, a girl, sitting on Sylas's laps. They were kin, but were they also friends? Talia had not seen her uncle for a decade or so, and she did not know.

The man had aged. A lot. Dour, dull, balding, even pale though how that could be in the south Talia could not grasp. The man looked like he had one foot in the grave already. Was this the man that could help Brandon rule the Empire? He looked like his current southern posting had been taxing enough for him. Then, looks could be deceiving. Talia greeted her uncle warmly embracing him and allowing him to kiss her cheeks. "Uncle." She said without formality. "You flatter me with your sweet words." She replied to his compliment, not quite managing to feel flattered by what she could not help to find a rather accurate assessment of her appearance. "You would have liked my little welcoming speech I think, shame that you should miss it. I spoke of my father. As joyous an occasion as my brother's accession may be, I thought it would become court to recall the man who ruled them for half a century. I fear you may find, dear uncle, that you have arrived at a court different from the one you recall, filled with new men who cares nothing for the travails and sacrifices that we who labored under my father had to make to preserve the empire from ruin. But enough of such sad talk, come now uncle sit with me and let us talk together like uncle and niece, for you have been sorely missed. Let me congratulate you on your appointment as chancellor, I could think of no man more worthy." Talia spoke gesturing for her uncle to take a seat while having a servant pour him a goblet of wine.