Iskiela: Unity [Chapter 1 | Arrival]

[fatalrendezvous]

The Ritual of Unification draws near for the world of Iskiela.

Heirs from the farthest reaches of the land begin to arrive from their long and sometimes treacherous journeys to Amberhall, as the city makes final preparations to receive its guests.​

[fieldbox="A Hero's Welcome, gold, solid, 5, Tahoma"]

Morning fog crept lazily along the Iressa river. Its grey haze clouded the mountain ranges further to the east of Amberhall, leaving nothing but their hilly outlines and the silhouettes of trees flecking the mountainsides peeking up from behind the gloom.

Dawn drew upon the capital city - but where normally these grey and overcast mornings often signalled the wakeup call for the townsfolk, on this day they were already up and bustling. Excitement and energy crackled silently in the air as the people milled about their morning work, the whispers and gossip abuzz with the prospect of some of the world's most significant figures all congregating here to take part in Iskiela's most time-honored tradition.

The first Heirs were to arrive this day, if word was correct - and every man, woman and child in Amberhall knew about it.

No matter which district, no matter rich or poor, they flocked to the main streets. Merchants set up carts and stands to showcase their wares, courtesans prettied themselves on the off chance an Heir (or perhaps an Heir's handsome bodyguard) fancied a romp to celebrate their arrival or a companion to share a bed with. Townsfolk set out chairs, so they might catch a glimpse of Iskiela's finest and applaud and cheer as they made their way from the front gate to the Grand Keep, where the Heirs would be housed until the Ceremony.

It was nothing short of a hero's welcome, certainly - a spectacle that Iskielans were considered fortunate to have seen once, and truly blessed to have seen twice.

In a few hours, the warmth of morning would burn off the fog, and the Iskielan sky above Amberholm would show itself a pristine, sapphire blue, flecked only by the silhouettes of birds passing high overhead. The roads were freshly graveled and swept spotless, shops and storefronts touched up and made presentable. Not that Amberhall's streets had much of a reputation for being unkempt, but the city always made an effort to put its best self on display for the Unification.

The morning call of roosters sounded across town, followed shortly by a shout of guards at the gates. With a rattle of chains, the main gates cranked open, and the city of Amberhall held its breath.

The stage was set.

Now all they needed was the Heirs.

[/fieldbox]

 

[fatalrendezvous]

[fieldbox="Helene Meriva - The Morning Of, #9483ee, solid, 5, Tahoma"]

In large part, much of the city's cleanliness and organization was thanks to Nanette Sharr, Amberholm's Stewardess.

She had been pulling especially long hours these past nights, and combined with her age, it was beginning to show; an occasional tired little sway betrayed her composure as she stood beside the Meriva family table in the Grand Keep, delivering a report on city matters while the Magistrate and his family hurried through breakfast. Valen, his wife Eylin and their boy Oren, ate as though it might be their last meal. Helene, in contrast - the designated Heir for the Meriva family - seemed contemplative about her food, tentatively pushing it around on her plate rather than eating it.

"...and we've reinforced the Watch with more men according to Ser Varden's request, my lord." The Stewardess cleared her throat as she swayed again, taking a moment to adjust her posture and to fight away a yawn. "There… there is no word of increased bandit activity within nor outside the city walls, but he wishes not to take any chances. We can never be too safe around the Unification ceremony."

"Mm," Magistrate Valen Meriva murmured contemplatively, waiting to finish his mouthful of food before responding. "Mind the accounts, Nan. The Unification will be costly enough as it is - make sure we can afford the extra men."

The Ambermother nodded dutifully at her Magistrate and his wife. "Of course, my lord. Speaking of- whenever you or the Magistress have a moment, we can review the accounts. There are some--"

"Nan," Helene interrupted, looking up from the slices of poached quail she had been indecisively scooting around on her plate. "Honestly, the accounts can wait. There's still time in the day before the first guests arrive, and you seem like you've barely slept in days." A worried little smile touched upon Helene's features, briefly breaking through the gloom that had been clouding over her earlier. "Some rest will do you good. It's only going to get busier from here."

Helene's parents both nodded affirmatively, and the Magistrate clunked down a mug of ale in that oddly authoritative fashion that always signified when he'd made up his mind about something. "The city's not going to fall apart while you sleep, Nan. I'd say you've more than earned your rest."

Confliction scrunched into the Stewardess' brows. "I-- well, perhaps, but there's still so much--"

Deadpan stares from the table cut her off without even so much as a word; Nanette had been serving this family long enough, by now, to know when to stop talking. A slight, begrudging sigh escaped her lips, although some part of her did seem genuinely relieved. "Very well. I'll be up in time to greet the first Heirs that arrive."

Just as her hand touched the doors, the Magistrate's voice called after her. "And Nan."

She paused, turning to face him despite already being halfway out the door. "It's Captain Varden. You know as well as I do, that damn brigand hasn't been knighted - I've no clue why anyone addresses him as Ser."

Helene grimaced at the scolding, though the Stewardess appeared to take the remark with grace, bowing her head briefly. "Apologies, my lord. Old habits are hard to break. Most Captains of the Watch typically are knights, after all."

The Magistrate offered Nan a nod, releasing her from duty. Ordinarily that would be the end of their meal, but if Helene knew her father, he was about to go on another one of his rants, this time about his distaste for their current guard captain. "Varden's no knight," he grumbled aloud, to nobody in particular but clearly intending for his wife and children to hear. Helene and her younger brother exchanged a look. "Oh, here it comes."

"He's a common thief. We're doomed if we expect him to hold the bandits and those damn Lucindian river pirates at bay."

Helene rolled her eyes. "Father, please. You know we've had fewer reports of bandit activity since Captain Varden was instated. You just hate to admit he's doing a good job," she prodded playfully, not one to miss the opportunity to ruffle her father's feathers.

"Pah! He's probably paying them off," her father grumped. "That's where all the coin has been going! Slipping right through our fingers and ending up in the bandits' pockets one way or the other."

The Heir-to-be of Amberholm chuckled and shook her head. "Gods, you're insufferable. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get ready." Without even waiting for her excusal, Helene gracefully slid off her seat and headed out of the room to prep for the arrival of the first Heirs.

"Helene!" Her father's voice boomed after her, but she paid it no mind. "You've not even touched your food!" A groan of discontent bellowed from his chest. "Maria! Maria, take Helene's plate to her room so she can at least give me the illusion that she's eaten something."

"...Maria? MARIA! Gods, where is that girl?"

[/fieldbox]

 

[Voices of Nerat]

[fieldbox="Elias Varden - An Old Friend's Wisdom, gray, solid, 5, Tahoma"]

Far away from the hustle and bustle of the main streets stood a modest little cottage, sequestered in a peaceful corner of the city that didn't see much foot traffic. Inside, two men were seated across from one another, engaged in both rapt conversation and what appeared to be a game of strategy involving a checkered tablecloth and wooden figurines.

The younger of the two scratched his patchy facial hair, carefully considering the next move before advancing one of his pieces forward. "So it's going to be a busy few days for me. I already gathered as much myself, old man. Any other advice?" Elias spoke, cracking a small smile. Not generally one for sarcastic remarks, he knew the man he was addressing appreciated a good jab now and then, something confirmed by a light chuckle from the elderly coot.

Said elderly coot was Ser Darren Mance, Elias's former mentor and predecessor as captain of the guard. Retired now, of course, living out the rest of his life in this peaceful little home. Something the old fellow rightfully earned, none could argue, what with all the countless scars and other injuries the grisled goat sustained over the years. Mostly detached from the politics and such of the big city now, Ser Mance still occasionally served in a consultative capacity, which is exactly why Elias was visiting him now.

"Alright, alright, I suppose I could give ya some specifics," Darren responded, moving one of his own game pieces in the meanwhile. "For one, pickpockets are gonna have a field day with this. More than usual, that is. Everyone's so busy gawking at prince such-and-such from somewhere-or-other that they aren't paying attention to some cutpurse when he, well, cuts their purse and runs."

"Hm, I see. I'll assign a few men to shadow the heirs when they arrive, have them keep an eye out for that type of thing." The current guard captain nodded, hastily putting another one of his figurines forward without much forethought. "What else?"

The aged codger considered both the question and their game for a long moment, glancing up to meet Elias's gaze with his own. "Aside from the petty thieves, you'll probably get a fair bit of drunk and disorderly types once the celebrations begin. Really though, you're gonna wanna have your eyes on thugs like that Falkenrath scumsack. With the city distracted, it tends to give people like him the opportunity to make some big moves. Steal a grain shipment, burn down a competitor's stores, whatever those deviants have in mind."

Elias grimaced a bit at the mention of the name Falkenrath, one criminal he had an unfortunate past connection with. "I always try to keep tabs on him. We haven't had much luck infiltrating his organization, unfortunately. As far as the law goes, he's simply a wealthy entrepreneur." That last statement seemed to be a point of frustration for the younger man, though his expression went blank as he noticed the old captain chuckling heartily, clutching his side. "What? What's so amusing?"

"What did I tell ya about paying attention, lad?" Still giddy, Mance leaned forward and moved his final piece up, washing away any potential for Varden to succeed in this game with one well placed figurine. Dumbfounded for a moment, Elias threw his head back, groaning in defeat.

"Ugh. You cheeky bastard. I'll beat you one day, I swear it," the young captain grunted, getting to his feet. "I suppose it's good timing anyway. I should be getting prepared to meet our arrivals at the gate." Rolling his shoulders momentarily, he patted his venerable mentor on the back before taking his leave out the front door.

"Watch your back out there, Elias!" The old captain called out after him. It was something he always said when they parted ways, but this time, it sounded like he meant it more than ever.

~~​

His meeting with the former captain had been some hours ago. Elias now found himself stationed outside the great gates, clad head to toe in plate armor, with his helmet tucked under one arm, a shield slung over his back and a blade at his hip. The soldiers under his command were standing guard both atop and at the foot of the massive gatehouse, while others patrolled the streets, keeping the citizenry in order. There had been no problems so far, but the day was still young, and none of their guests had arrived just yet.

Standing just underneath the drawn portcullis, he scanned the horizon, looking for anything that might be approaching in the distance. "Hmm… I wonder where Madam Sharr is today? She's usually the one that's this early, not me," He said to no one in particular, glancing back to the throngs of people in the street and hoping to catch sight of the one they called the Ambermother.

[/fieldbox]

 

[Voices of Nerat]

[fieldbox="Akiyama Hideki - On The Road, #FF4A4A, solid, 5, Book Antiqua"]

The journey had been an arduous one, to say the least. From land to sea, then sea to land once more, they'd been traveling for what felt like countless days, bound for the grand city of Amberhall.

Prince Hideki was the chosen heir of the Takaman empire it seemed. It was something he never imagined possible nor really wanted for himself… but here he was, accompanied by a retinue of around thirty royal guardsmen as he made his journey, prepared to do his part to keep the unity in place. Hey, at least he'd get to see the world, right?

No, not really. Throughout most of the journey, he'd been seated in the back of the royal stagecoach, a glorified wagon unnecessarily decked out in gold and drawn by two sets of massive wardogs, each the size of a small horse. His personal bodyguard, Ienari Anzu, had insisted on his remaining inside the vehicle, claiming that the roads were full of highwaymen and they could be beset at any moment. The prince was a tad dubious of this claim, but reluctantly complied with her wishes to stay in the safety of the vehicle.

On the few occasions he was allowed to set foot outside of the wagon and stretch his legs a little, Anzu would shadow him the entire time. He was used to this by now though, as even from an early age she followed him everywhere, so it came as no surprise when she volunteered to be his personal protector when the time came. Even if she was a bit overbearing, it was nice to know he'd be making this trip with a close friend by his side.

Said trip seemed to be on the verge of coming to an end, as just from outside the wagon window the towering keep of Amberhall came into sight. The massive structure had been vaguely visible in the distance for some time but just now it was coming into clearer view, as morning broke the haze that hung over the land. Excited, and perhaps a bit anxious, Hideki called out to the wagon driver, "Yatori, I see the city! How much longer until we arrive?"

"Should be only a few more hours, my lord," the raspy-voiced warrior called back, ushering the cart dogs to pick up the pace a bit.

"Just sit tight prince Hideki, we've not reached safety yet," came the voice of his previously mentioned bodyguard, seated next to the coach driver and keeping a sharp eye out for anything that looked suspicious or dangerous. "There's still ample opportunity for us to fall prey to an ambush if we become reckless."

Hideki frowned, sighing as he scooped up one of the many books he'd brought to read in the meantime. "Ah, lady Anzu. Always looking at things in a positive light." He didn't get a response for his sarcastic remark, but that was fine, he wasn't expecting one. For the moment, Hideki allowed himself to thumb through the tome, appropriately a volume on traditions in the nation of Amberholm.

It didn't do much to help curb the anticipation though, and he found himself gazing up out the window at the looming city every few moments, which didn't actually appear to be getting any close even though he knew it had to be.

[/fieldbox]

 

[Fiona]

[fieldbox="Maria, hotpink, dashed, 10"]Maria had fallen asleep in the kitchen. It wasn't that she didn't have work to do, by any means, but she'd been unable to sleep the night before, as oddly excited as the rest of the folk in the city. So even after waking up she'd… just been so tired… and a nap had sounded really, really nice. Of course, though, the intention had been to doze for about maybe five minutes after finishing the first round of chores and then to get back up before she was missed, and the reality was that she'd zonked out fairly hard on the chair of her choice. Others in the kitchen or passing through it snickered and giggled at the sight of her, slumped slightly sideways with the little hair cover slowly sliding off as she nodded against the wall.

The laughter stopped when the shout came for her. One of the older women in the room flung a cloth at her, and when that was ignored, a dish. Could always blame Maria herself if it broke, after all. The servant girl in question squeaked as she woke, the dish smashing on the ground alongside her. She sprang from the seat, startled, and almost stepped in the debris, catching herself instants before soft-soled shoes came in contact with it.

"Oh- oh no, did I do that? I'm sorry! G-give me a minute, I'll-!"

The sound of the magistrate's voice cut through the air once more and she stiffened further, realising the predicament she had found herself in. No time! She whipped the cover from her hair, dumped it onto the little pile of shards since a white blotch of fabric was much more easily-spotted and avoided than a shattered plate, and then left the kitchen in a huge hurry. She arrived in the correct room after a long few moments, her hair fluffy and out of place and a faint, embarrassed flush in her cheeks.

"My-" She had to watch her tongue here; she'd spent the first month or so of her employment accidentally calling lord Valen 'My Magi-lord' and it had been perhaps one of the most stressful things for her to try and get through. "My lord, I apologise, I'm here now!" A quick glance down at the family's table told her what she probably had to do. The daughter had fled without finishing – starting? – her breakfast. Maria collected one of the handful of trays that was used for shifting the plates and then collected the heir's with as much care as she could muster.

Please don't drop it, please don't drop it. I don't want to get shouted at more than I need to, please just don't drop the plate…

She breathed out at last when she had Helene's plate and drink safely onto the tray and could cling at it as hard as she liked. "I'll – I'll get it another heat and get it up to her in a jiffy!" Hopefully Valen wouldn't decide this was the day to start threatening her with dismissal; she was sure he'd see the sleepy haze in her eyes if she had to try and pull a pleading puppydog face on him.[/fieldbox]

 

[Valkyrie]

[fieldbox="Julia van Rozen // The Gates, maroon, solid, 10"]

"Light the braziers as soon as the sun begins to set..." she then grabbed a longbow that was hung from a wooden bow rack and stretched it out as if she were to knock an invisible arrow. Julia, Lieutenant of the Amberhall Watch, squinted her eyes as she aimed at the rising sun; the sky swirled in beautiful colors. Her countenance then frowned while heaving a small sigh of disapproval; a cold puff of air came out of her mouth, "these have been sitting out in the cold and heat far too long. The string has become loose. Go to the armory and replace all the longbows on all watchtowers. The old ones will need to be taken in for maintenance. Make sure you log how much is coming out of the armory and what is coming back in...I will be checking inventory later tonight," she eyed one of the guards sternly, "and while you're at it check the arrows as well." She put the longbow back in its place, gently dusted off her hands, and continued with her orders. The crowd before her contained at least 28 guards listening to instructions and were ordered to pass it on to those next in line of being in the watchtowers. "There will be two guards, maybe one more if we can afford it, in each watchtower from dusk till dawn. I've assigned the scheduling so that everyone alternates with watchtower duty and everyone gets proper sleep; falling asleep during watchtower duty is unacceptable especially during this time with the Unification."

"Any changes I will let you know" she said and began to descend down the stairs; her head to toe armor (except for the helm) clanked as she stepped down on each stair but before going down any further Julia stopped and slightly turned to look back at them, "further questions come and find me." The guards that were present saluted and dispersed to their positions as soon as The Wolf turned around and made her exit to meet up with Ser Varden.

---

Lieutenant van Rozen had gotten word that Captain Varden was at the main gate waiting for the Ambermother. She walked up and stood next to him. With no one around Julia dropped the formalities, "I've set up the arrangements for the Watchtowers," Julia gave him a sidelong glance and grinned, "it's almost time...you ready, Elias?" Along with Elias this was going to be her first time in active duty during the world famous Unification ceremony. [/hr][/fieldbox]

---

 

[unanun]

60

M

ornings were vapour in the warehouse. The dust of industry bent the beams a thousand and twenty ways. Miah blinked against the wayward dawn, lips stained with bitter kaf. The cup had been larger than usual, and the kaf drew wires fastened at the end of every finger and toe in an ever tightening ball, coalesced in a tangled ball rolling in the stomach. The sharp haze washed over the senses as Miah wandered up and down the aisles.

Three thousand and thirty three pallets of oiled iron ingots, with no pig carbon, four hundred and fourty four planks of cedar, and fifty five boxes of rivets. The shipbuilders canton always liked having ones in their numbers, although it often lead to excess.

Tallying, projections, and invoicing complete, Miah shivered away the tension, a small trick of the mind, bursting into a dewy sweat that darkened the breezy tan fabrics. The sweat smelled faintly of kaf.

The dim outlines of the warehouse faded into the grey haze of a morning fog. The catamaran sliced hard into the waves, bumping Miah awake to a wooden ceiling, roused to the faint smells of a cold breakfast.

Sometime later, Miah leaned against a windowsill of the cabin, and pulled the morning vapour through a thin pipe. The smoke drew a painfully bright haze against every droplet of the lake spray. Amberhall, a little porcupine in the east, had an especially garish contrast with the rising sun. The numbers add up, the Principal Arithmetician said. It simply makes sense, said the Logician. You are the first of what will be a prestigious, esteemed tradition. Your services will be invaluable to whoever is lucky enough to be your partner. A circlet of fine gems and wirework glittered on Miah's forehead, an afterthought of a charm for happiness.

The freshwaters swallowed the white ash and the slam of the porthole window. Miah slumped in the cot, and did not sweat out the haze.

 

[Falcon]

[fieldbox="Aljoar Si'Marone, lightslategrey, solid, 10"]

Mountain Pass Southwest of Amberholm
Overlooking the City
​

Aljoar Si'Marone had never been the intended Hair for Emantaline.

That honor should have fallen to another. But the political changes of his home country were an ever shifting wind sometimes a gentle breeze that had spared him an arranged marriage at birth and two potential match based alliances, and other times a gusting storm wind that had landed him in the cursed position of Emantaline heir.

It should have been Callarina of house Tar'nor. She was two months his senior and had repeatedly turned down suitor after suitor that would have spared her the position at the unification ceremony. So certain had the Heads of the houses been that they had actually sent Tar'nor's first steward to Amberholm with the third of Tar'nor's name to start preparations for her housing.

Callarina, however, had another plan it seemed. One week before the delegation was set to leave she announced publicly an unintended pregnancy. Too soon to show and with no way to disprove her story for several claimed to have seen her sneaking around with the head of her personal guard, Callarina was immediately disqualified.

And so it was that the fastest Si'Marone rider had been sent to inform the Steward of Amberholm with the change in plans and to make any housing adjustments necessary.

Aljoar was sent not as the head of Callarina's guard unit as expected, but in her place.

Now he and his entourage were camped in the ruins of the fort that used to guard this end of the pass, five hours easy ride from the gates of the main city. His people called it's now ruined towers "Guyehar" though Aljoar had often heard the locals give it another name in their own tongue.

From his seat on top of an overhung broken bridge Aljoar could see the outline of the city Amberholm far below.

Footsteps approached from behind and Aljoar tensed. None of these men, or women, save for one, belonged to his own house. It went against tradition. Tar'nor had left their staff in place after setting up the Amberholm residence instead of removing them in favor of those provided by the other houses, and now it was the house of Leal'cline who provided the honor guard. It was meant as a way to balance the influence of Si'Marone for providing the heir, but also as a way of handicapping them. Aljoar found if frustrating that the only person he was left with worth trusting was his personal manservant. And even he was a sniveling weasel loyal to Aljoar's father.

"Pardon, Lord," the annoying snivel started as Aljoar turned his attention back to the city below, "But Ser, Goliah of Leal'cline wants to know why we are making camp and not descending this early in the morning?"

"Because I don't know the terrain yet," Aljoar answered simply.

"Because you don't --" the snivel managed to sound astonished for once but a deeper voice a little behind interrupted.

"Though the land ahead looks plain and true, winding are it's many paths. Though the faces smile in their moving crowds, hidden deep lay dark motives. And while one person's actions may be plain to read, beware the roused mob."

"Is this any time to be quoting philosophers," the smaller man snapped, but he fell silent when Aljoar raised a single hand.

"Dimatreal?"

"Yes, Lord Second?"

"What house do you serve?"

"None, my lord, though House Tar'nor keeps my purse filled."

Aljoar turned and the grin on his face as he did so caused one of the men to share it and the other to shrink back several steps. "And If I were to keep your purse equally full?"

"So long as I am not asked to break or defy my first contract I see no harm in taking on a second."

"Then take this," a purse changed hands, "and ride ahead of us, scout the city, listen where mouths speak and look where honest folk fear to trod. Then bring back to me all news, every rumor and political turning you gather down to what the blind murmur when they beg for coin. Wait for our party at the foot of the pass at sundown. Yes, Wormael" a glance was spared for the quivering servant, "you may tell Goliah we will be heading down today. I intend to enter the city of Amberholm at dusk"

"Only fitting for the rumored shadow of House Si'Marone."

It was a searching remark and Aljoar made no answer as he and his two companions left the bridge and then went their separate ways.

Fifteen minutes later a lone figure in a rust colored cloak trotted lazily down the remaining portion of the pass toward the city far below.

[/fieldbox]

 

[Mundane Monster]

[fieldbox="Lorelei Kyth, #364a35, solid"]Her muscles were crying. Shrieking actually. Lorelei had been up since the crack of dawn, preparing for the Unification. Well not the actual event. She'd been preparing for the royal procession to the location of the Unification. Her father had been working Lorelei like a dog and on top of that, the girl had to visit her father's patients to boot. It was a hard life, being an apprentice. When she was younger her father would have done all of this with her and they would be like their own little team dashing to and fro in the city. But now Asher Kyth was old and had a limp. He had to use a cane and sometimes she caught him mumbling to her late grandparents. It was sad...So Lorelei completed all of her tasks without complaint, she didn't want to give him an additional problem to deal with.

But Gods! If she had to fetch another basket of herbs, she was going to lose her mind! Thankfully she had Thyme to accompany her, but even the hound couldn't satiate her restlessness and exhaustion. Shifting the belt around her waist, Lorelei slowed her rapid pace to an easy stroll. It wouldn't hurt anyone if she just relaxed for a little bit right? "We're just going to take it easy for a moment, right Thyme?" She said. The dog perked up at his name and panted at her, his tongue lolling. Lorelei had happened upon Thyme last spring and at first her father had been against her keeping him. "What if he eats one of our herb pouches? He'll die and then we'll have to deal with a dead dog!" The aging man had complained but realized the dog's worth a few days later when it chased off some vermin looking for an easy meal from their garden. "I suppose he's alright." Her father grumbled trying to look stern while he lavished Thyme in treats and pettings.

As Lorelei and Thyme walked through the city, the girl took notice of the hustle and bustle. Everyone was truly excited for the Unification, as was she! She couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of the many different royals and--Her thought process halted as she realized that she was standing a ways in front of the great gates and Captain Varden. An involuntary and uncharacteristic giggle erupted from the apprentice's mouth. Like most women, she thought, Lorelei was a slave to her desires and she desired a certain Captain of the Watch. It was a silly infatuation of course, as she'd never held an actual conversation with the man, but she couldn't help giggling whenever she saw him. It was a terrible and embarrassing vice. She was just in the midst of boring a hole into his head when a buxom woman nearly ran her down, "Mo-ove! I've got lots to do and none involve waiting for some miserable twit to get her bearings and quit standing in front of my shop!" The woman bellowed.

Flushing in embarrassment, Lorelei quickly sidestepped out of the way, mumbling a sheepish 'sorry'. "Well, that's enough time spent idling, right Thyme? Back to work we should go!" She blubbered to her dog, as she hastily walked away. She had more herb pouches to make, many patients to check on and a stand to set up to sell the aforementioned pouches.[/fieldbox]

 

[Mglo]

Collab with @Fiona

Diarch Herta Aristagoras swung her blunt spear, swift and purposeful, aiming for her son's head. Ambitor Jorgen barely evaded and only by means of redirecting her blow, which left him unprepared and unbalanced for her spear's return. The brunt of it hit his haphazard block, but the shock still passed through to his side, knocking him off center.

"What are you, 24 now? You're fighting at a teenage level Jorgen," she observed. They'd been sparring at early hours of the morning, readjusting morning practice so that the Ambitor representing The Dominon of Praxus would leave on the scheduled time.

"You are mistaken mother," Jorgen breathed heavy, "you are just a better warrior than I." He twirled his spear to test the mobility of his arm and pressed on his torso to predict the size of the bruise she'd just given him to remember her by.

"You're good Jorgen, you were just born with the misfortune of inheriting your father's frailty," She checked for time and promptly lowered her weapon, "it killed your brother, but you've been doing right by not letting it defeat you." With those loving and parting words she walked away, leaving a dusty looking Jorgen and his Protector to prepare for the journey.

After bathing and breakfasting came inspection of the retinue. All men and women having had a similar morning, also had a similar understanding. They had woken up early to a warm-up, now they were ready to battle the road. There was no gathering, no celebrations of grandeur or any kind of indication that one of the Dominion's favored Ambitors was leaving. After all, daily responsibilities must be performed and the best way to send off their own was by a thorough and timely completion of their job.

"Ambitor Jorgen! Word from Fairlea," announced the last minute messenger and the horses were pulled to a halt while irritated expressions looked to the sky for time. "They request for an immediate trade for traveling horses..." the restrained grumbles marked the clear opinion on this sudden petition, "to be used on their travels to Amberholm."

"Unnecessary delay! Ambitor Jorgen has a duty as of 5 counts of a warring drum ago, which is 3 counts too many. Someone else can aid the unprepared lot!" A woman of the retinue exclaimed.

"They uh, also request joint travel, and uh, they're already on their way" concluded the messenger in sustained disbelief.

~*~

In all fairness, the folk of Fairlea weren't trying to be obnoxious. There had been a funeral barely two days past for the eldest prince, and frankly the attentions of the people had been firmly on that rather than on the preparations for the journey to Amberholm. It wasn't an unreasonable thing, given that... well, it had been their existing heir candidate who had kicked the bucket. That sort of puts paid to their going, doesn't it?

Only when Gregor and the remnants of the family had been allowed the time to process the happenings did they finally snap back to reality. They still had to produce an heir for the Unification, and as unprepared as she was for the world of politics and arranged marriages - and as vehemently against her going as her doting father was - Cora was now the last child, and therefore the only candidate.

It had happened to be Cora who suggested reaching out to the Dominion of Praxus. She'd briefly looked at a map at some point and noticed the border, realized she'd have to pass through, and then come up with the fantastic idea that maybe she could make herself a friend of one of the other heirs before they even got to Amberholm if they met up and travelled together! It didn't occur to her that perhaps she was putting spanners in carefully-planned events at their end simply because that wasn't how it worked here, and it didn't occur to her that perhaps the other heirs didn't want to make friends, that they might only be in it because, well, they had to be.

And so it came to be that Cora and her small handful of companions - mostly farmer's boys toting oodles of maps and packed-up food of all sorts - made their way first out of their own nation and into the Dominion of Praxus on horseback, and then finally to the arranged meeting point round the border between it and Aurum. It was Cora's first time on a horse.

"Hi there! Are you the heir from Praxus and his entourage?" She wore a bright, genuine smile as her horse cantered up to the group... and then cantered right on into the group, apparently more than content to cause trouble just as its new owner had. "W-wait, how do I stop you again? Stop! Patrick, help!" A farmboy was scrambling off his horse, clearly about to rush his way into the thick of things and try to stop her. Didn't get there in time, mind. The horse kept right on going, weaving through people until it came to a block in the form of Jorgen, when it started to snort and sniff.

Jorgen gave her, and the horse, a rigid stare.

"Phew... Wait, are you sneezing? Are you sick?" She leaned forwards to check on her horse and nearly overbalanced herself with it, forgetting for a few moments how tentatively she sat on her steed, and that she still hadn't technically introduced herself. Sizing up to be a long trip.

Gavrel stepped between the two and took hold of Cora's reigns to stop the horse from fidgeting too much. "This is Ambitor Jorgen of Aristagoras, son of Diarch Hertia Aristagoras, heir select for the Unification. I am his Protector, Gavrel," the tall man lowered his head. He looked strong and cunning, truly deserving the aforementioned title.

Jorgan looked at her expectantly, already proper introductions had been lacking. Given the farm people's reaction, he'd deduced her to be the heir select of Fairlea. It puzzled him to see this since he'd heard rumors that the eldest had been a male, however to pose the question so early upon meeting would have been improper.

"Oh! Oh, sorry, hi, Gavrel! I probably shouldn't just immediately say hi to- hey, can I call you Jorgen?" She directed another dazzling smile at the young man in front of her, regardless of how he'd greeted her initially. This bunch were sort of quiet and... well. She'd not be surprised to find some sticks where the sun didn't shine. Maybe they could all use some brownies... "I'm Cora; Princess of Fairlea. It sounds super formal if you use the title, though, so you can just call me Cora, okay? Or, you know, Little Star. I don't mind that, either, though it's maybe not quite your thing... You seem kinda like you don't do cutesy nicknames."

Already the Praxus retinue was back in formation, the brief and sudden invasion of Cora upon them had fixed itself by habit. She was caught in the center given her station near Jorgen. Clearly, they were ready to set out and continue the journey, not anticipating any yearning of Cora's entourage to rest. The horses could certainly handle the run, but in the Praxus mind you were either strong or dead. Jorgen marked the order with his position shift, "as you wish Princess Cora, you may refer to me by name. Shall we proceed? If we press on, we might shorten the delay." His beautifully powerful horse was already leading the group forward, assuming Cora's desire to make up for lost time was as strong as theirs.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hold you up, honest, I just-" Cora came to a stop then, because after retrieving the reins from Gavrel she had no idea what to do with them to make the horse move. "Er... yah, horsie?" The quizzical tone and the way she bounced just a touch in the saddle were indications both that she had no concept of how to control a horse. "I- can you move, please? How do I..." She leaned in and forwards to the horse, prompting it to suddenly dance to life, immediately trying to jump back to the fairly lively pace she'd had before. She squeaked and clung at the reins; off in the direction she'd come from there were farmboys clearly braced for impact. She'd almost been tossed twice today already.

"So! Jorgen, are you looking forward to seeing Amberholm? I've never been out of Fairlea until now, so I wonder what it's like..." Golly, she was conversational, wasn't she? A few moments passed in which Jorgen gave a noncommittal 'yes' of a reply, and then... "What's your horse's name? Can horses sneeze? I think mine sneezed. Maybe she can smell the mama on me... Do I smell?" Admittedly a pleasant sort of smell did cling to her clothes and skin, but he might not be able to pick it up with the little gap between them.

"This is Frigg," Jorgen replied proudly, choosing to ignore the sneezing question. As an afterthought, he quizzically muttered "Mama...?" but Gavrel quickly jumped in to say, "never you mind Jorgen."

They journeyed on, one group with clear sights ahead while the other wondrously set its sights all around them.

 

[fatalrendezvous]

[fieldbox="Helene Meriva - Reflections, #9483ee, solid, 5, Tahoma"]

If ever a knock on a door could be described as timid, that was exactly the type of knock that came on the door to Helene's chambers. It was distinguishable and easily recognizable… provided you actually heard it.

"Come in, Maria," Helene responded from her seat in front of her vanity mirror.

The servant girl cracked the door just barely ajar, slipping through what seemed like an impossibly small opening with a serving tray and a fresh, piping hot serving of the same breakfast Helene had already refused once before. She quietly shuffled over and set it down in front of Helene on her vanity table before taking a few steps back and folding her hands in front of her.

"Uhm, my Magi-Lord--" dammit! "L-Lord Valen asked me to bring your breakfast to your room, milady," she murmured, looking at Helene's reflection in the mirror. "He said he… he wanted to at least let himself be fooled that you ate something."

Helene made eye contact with her through the mirror, taking in an understanding - if reluctant - breath, as if to say something. She held it for a few moments, the words stubbornly refusing to leave her lips; eventually she released the thought with a sigh and a simple, "Thank you, Maria."

With a silent nod and an equally quiet shuffle of feet, Maria made her way to the door before getting stopped by Helene's voice calling her name once more. The girl paused, turning to look, but Helene's body was blocking her reflection so the best she could do was blink at the back of her lady's head. "Y-yes? I mean -- yes, milady?"

Well, there wasn't much excuse for her to keep her silence now. Helene had always confided in Maria before; at least the poor girl was a good listener, even if she seldom had much good advice. The heiress remained still in her seat as she gathered her thoughts. "I envy you sometimes, you know, Maria." She turned her head to her side, looking at Maria through her peripheral vision. "For not having to have your marriage arranged." Among other things.

Maria cocked her head to the side, trying to process. To her, the thought of marriage was kind of like a far off wish, and she would've expected anyone like Helene to be happy to be able to marry at all! But there was something noticeably somber in the heiress' voice, and so Maria searched for words of comfort.

…and searched.

"Uhm… I-- uhm… would you like me to brush your hair again? Milady?"

Helene felt her eyes close as she let off a little chuckle and turned back towards her reflection. "Yes, please."

[/fieldbox]

 

[LVL1337N00B]

((Collaboration with @Drifter never forget smegma king))
[fieldbox="COURTING LUCINDIAN ROYALTY, red, solid, 5, Tahoma"]

For all the talk about living in a society with neither rigid class nor high royalty, there were some brothels in the Freehold where only 'fancy folk' were encouraged to go: the most notorious crews, the richest merchants, the most distinguished ivory traders. In short, the kind of people who threw out the kind of money you don't get raiding common fishing vessels. Out of all these distinguished brothels, Uldred Falkenrath, legitimate entrepreneur, self-styled lord, and not-at-all a criminal, never understood why the Vice Admiral chose the Salty Seaman as her home away from the sea. The decor was gloom, the girls were demanding and pricey, and it was so far out south from Vansky that no thirst was worth the walk.

There were a dozen or so better establishments he could think to meet in, but Uldred supposed this one would serve the purpose of their meeting well enough, in any case. The ginger haired merchant sipped a glass of wine, tasteless by his standards, then looked to the quartermaster seated across from him. He examined her quietly for some time, then turned his eyes away to scan the room around them.

"Perhaps a quieter setting would be best", he suggested as he swirled the liquid in his cup, also not too impressive a container compared to what he was used to, "Would you not agree, miss Corsa?"

"No. No, I do not agree." Her voice was ice

Holly Corsa, Vice Admiral of the Black Fleet and Chief Auditor of the Freehold, had inherited a number of contacts from the Admiral Boyle after assuming additional responsibilities of Quartermaster of The Butcher, perhaps the most infamous flagship of the Freehold. Nathaniel Boyle was a great warrior, excellent captain, and powerful naval tactician - but he was no bureaucrat or logistician, and was always eager to pawn off what he called the eternal legwork to his Quartermaster.

And out of all the snivelling spies in the network that had landed in her lap, she hated none more than Uldred Falkenrath. She had no charm for him, not even the pretense of some friendliness. He was everything she despised:the way he played at class, the way he pretended at wine and fine dining, the way his words flowed out as silken amberholmian song, the way his eyes sometimes darted down below her neck - she had killed for less. She had killed for a lot less, but tragically, he was their biggest source of intel in Amberholm. He was, for now, indispensable - and the smug fucker knew it.

She just stared at him, in a way not unlike a very irritated tabby, her hard eyes demanding he get on with it and fuck off. Uldred stared back, half contemplating how to proceed and half just having a bit of fun with the woman. He had a feeling he wouldn't get away with it for long however, so he set his subpar glass of subpar wine aside and picked the sealed document up from his side of the table. "You'll find what you've asked for is all here; Planned route, estimated travel time, a copy of their manifest, etcetera etcetera", he said, the back of his hand lightly rapping against the envelope as he listed each item off in a manner that showed a clear disinterest. "You are welcome, miss Corsa," he concluded, dropping the document in front of the young woman.

And you are not, she wanted to say. She placed a hand on the envelope, her cold stare unchanging. "Mr. Falkenrath," Even his name was annoying to articulate. "You may leave now. Your finder's fee will, well, find you if the information is good."

"Lord Falkenrath", he corrected, then took a moment before speaking again.

"Come now, there's no need to rush my departure, is there? I've come all this way just to see you, my dear", he teased, a sly little smirk creeping across his half burned face. "And besides, I've something to discuss that is.. Of considerably more interest than anything else on your agenda for the day", he said, pressing an elbow into the table's surface and resting his head atop his fist, casually stroking his pointed beard with his other hand. "About the unity. Those attending, hm.."

He straightened himself and shrugged, then stood from his seat and turned away from the pirate, "I suppose you're right. I do have more urgent matters awaiting me after all, as I'm certain you do as well."

Uldred counted the seconds as he walked towards the door. Nothing as he passed the first row of tables, then a second, passing the bar. He began to fear he had misjudged her, and then...Holly's voice rang out just as his hand closed around the door knob of the near-empty brothel. "My last statement stands, Mr Falkenrath," she said, and even though nothing really gave it away, he could feel the eye roll in her tone. "Your finder's fee will find you." she paused for effect. "If the information is good."

Uldred's expression soured at the repetition of 'Mr', but he chose not to interject a second time.

His expression soon returned to one of amusement however as he withdrew his hand from the knob, moving his hands behind his back as he turned, unnecessarily slowly back toward Holly. "I'll assume you've heard nothing thus far?", he asked as he casually strode back to the table his business partner was still seated at. "Several of those participating have been sighted near Amberholm already, you know", he told her, placing a hand on the table and looking pointedly in her direction. "Yet it seems almost as though you've no intention of making the voyage yourself."

"It's a dangerous journey," Holly said, looking right back at him. "River bandits abound, and I find myself inadequately prepared for such a big undertaking." Happily ignoring the fact that almost half of the hazards between, about, and beyond the Iressa and its roads were state-sponsored insurgents enabled or assisted by the Freehold.

"This is marriage, after all." she spat out the word like a curse. "There is no greater commitment."

"Of course", the older man replied, his own hastily chosen wife far from his mind. Uldred stroked down his beard once, then returned to his seat.

"And while it brings me no greater joy than joining hands, tits, and crotch with a complete stranger." Holly said, her opinion on the very institution of the Unity becoming increasingly clear. "I would insist on knowing what you know, Mr. Falkenrath."

He nodded and placed his hands on the table, fingers interlaced. "I hear the representative sent by your associates to the South is particularly impressive", he said, his voice carrying a sarcastic ring. "A scholarly sort, I'm tol-"

"It's the cocksucker, isn't it?"

"The sixth-born prince of th-"

"Yup. The Cocksucker." For the first time since Uldred had dealt with her, Holly chuckled.

"He does seem a bit.. Effeminate."

"He has an impressive specimen as his personal shield." Holly shrugged, as if the best thing she could say about the Takaman prince was his bodyguard. "Next."

"Emantaline's first choice befell an unfortunate circumstance, it seems. Their replacement is known as.. What was the word they used? A shade? Spectre?", he paused, then smirked. "Ah that's right, a shadow. Very mysterious, yes?"

"Quite." Holly said, suggesting that, once again, no, no it wasn't.

"To elaborate on that title-"

"Don't know, don't care. My concerns lie more with laying with enemies rather than strangers." Holly gave the table a little tap on the table to emphasize the point. "Ma Ka Wai, for example. The Butcher has collected too many clan gems to be so readily forgotten, and those wankers won't shut up about fallen family. And then there's the frostlands to the north."

Uldred first took up his glass again before responding further, taking his sweet time to down the rest of his wine. "No real news from the North, I'm afraid", he said, setting the now empty glass down and pushing it toward Holly as if to ask for more. "None of my associates have returned from that wretched, frozen land."

"Did you forget to feed them?"

"Amusing", he replied, tapping the rim of his glass expectantly. "Ma Ka Wai", he continued, once again stroking at his beard. "Sounds a lovely place for a Summer home, wouldn't you say?"

"And in a time beyond this Unification bollocks, it will be."

"Mm, I'll drink to that.. Or I would", he said, tapping at his glass once more and narrowing his eyes very slightly. "If you would, miss Corsa."

You would think Holly would be tired of glaring at this point, but it seemed she had no small amount practice in the art of the perpetual death stare. Holly jerked the pitcher across from her side of the table and filled up Uldred's glass, spilling some onto his beard. An accident, of course. She picked up her own glass, forgotten until now, and gave the briefest, most reluctant of 'clinks' with Uldred's. "To the complete subjugation of the inbred turtle-fucking clans." She didn't drink to it. "Though what does it matter to an Amberfucker anyway?"

"As charming as ever, my dear Holly", Uldred commented offhandedly, frowning at her completely accidental spill and retrieving a fine looking red and gold handkerchief to clean his facial hair.

"Miss Corsa," she insisted very, very tensely. Every second with her wore away at her ability to restrain herself from cutting him into tiny pieces and feeding him to Preacher.

"My dear miss Corsa", he corrected himself at her behest, tucking his little cloth away into a pocket inside of his coat. "Anyhow, never you mind my interest in the matter."

"The heir from Praxus, I'm told is a weakly looking young woman", he said, getting back on topic as quickly as they'd strayed from it. "Curious that a nation with such military might would choose to send someone such as that to represent them."

Holly did not miss the insult. "Looks can be very deceiving, Mr. Falkenrath. Looks can be very, very deceiving."

"We had some fortune with a shipment of Praxian Stallions a few years back. Forgot the breed, killed the guy before he could mouth it. Good horses, the best I've ever seen. Hard to tire, fiercer than even cavalry, stronger than mules."

Holly's face darkened a little. "On the way up the Hunter's trail, we encountered a ship killer; big storm up by the ways. Escaped it, yes, but not without cost. We were becalmed for weeks. Delirious, dehydrated, starving." Holly tapped the table for each word. "We ate them all. An entire shipment worth more than a piece of the Dragon's hoard, gone in a week. They tasted like shit."

"My point, Mr. Falkenrath," Holly said very deliberately, "Is that one should not overestimate the value of commerce in the world against something far more primal, some far more base than naked greed.." Like beating your head in with spiked mace, she wanted to add.

"You've rambled a bit, my dear", he said, then sipped at his drink.

"Can you blame me? A girl gets sentimental over near-death experiences."

"To conclude, I will move on to Amberholm's own heir."

"Why bother? Im well-acquainted with the neighbours."

"So I've heard", he goaded, a sly grin on his lips.

"I think this discussion has run its course, Mr Falkenrath, You know where the door is."

"The Meriva girl, Helene.. Not a bad choice, to be quite honest", the merchant spoke, swirling the contents of his glass idly. "Though I'm certain she'll become more of a problem for me as she gains further influence."

"My heart goes out to you," Holly said. "It really, really does." She pointed a finger at the door. "If you would, Mr. Falkenrath, I have preparations to make for the journey. And actual duties."

"And a slew of curse-rotted whores to bed before your departure, I'm certain. Very well", he said, standing once more and downing the rest of his drink. "I look forward to our next meeting, Holly." This time the bearded man strode toward the door more briskly, wasting no time in pulling it open and exiting the high-class establishment. The sound of glass smashing against wood, just on the other side of the door and so close he felt the impact, told him he had slipped out just in time.

"Ships waitin', m'lord", came the voice of a rather unkempt looking fellow who'd been waiting just outside, face scarred and garbed in dark attire reminiscent of a highwayman's uniform.

"Let us be off then."

[/fieldbox]

 

[Voices of Nerat]

((Collab'd a bit with @fatalrendezvous for this'n))
[fieldbox="Elias Varden - Anticipation, gray, solid, 5, Tahoma"]

Still standing sentinel at the gate in anticipation of the heirs' arrival, Elias turned to face his second in command as she approached, a slight smirk breaking up his generally serious expression. He nodded after listening to her brief report on the watchtower situation, folding his arms into a relaxed stance. "Very good Julia, thank you. Hopefully the added security will be unnecessary but it never hurts to be prepared."

The captain considered her question for a brief moment, rubbing his chin in contemplation. "I'm not quite sure what to expect, to be honest. Ser Mance recounted some of his memories of the last Unification ceremony, he was younger even than you or I then. It's going to be hectic, to say the least; but if we uphold our duty we should be able to handle it, as always."

Elias shifted his gaze to back to the world outside the great gate. No sign of travelers in sight, for now at least. "Which reminds me, once the heirs arrive we'll need to have a few of our men tail them undercover, in the common garb preferably. Just a man or two to each; we merely need them to keep a lookout for thieves seeking an easy mark in a foreigner. The last thing we need is some lowlife jeopardizing the unity with their sticky fingers."

"I'll see to it." The lieutenant thumped a fist to her breastplate, the classic salute of the watch.

It was then that Varden felt a sudden, unexplainable feeling, as though he were being watched. Just as he cocked his head backwards to have a glance, he caught sight of what appeared to be two women having a very one sided dispute, with the larger of the two belligerently badgering the frizzy-haired gal. He nearly decided to go break things up before said gal turned tail and skedaddled, her little hound close behind. "Well… alright then."

There had been more than one set of eyes on the Captain, at any rate. "Good morning," Helene's voice called casually from some distance behind. A smile graced her features as she approached the Captain and his Lieutenant at the portcullis; after all, the Keeper of Laws worked quite closely with the Amberhall Watch, and they were generally on good terms. "Nan's been overworking herself, as usual -- she'll join us a bit later." The heiress of Amberholm greeted Elias and Julia both with a firm, but gentle hand upon the shoulder. "For now, I'm all you get."

As Elias craned his head to catch sight of the heiress, he couldn't help but mirror the smile she was displaying. "Ah, Helene-" he stopped himself mid-sentence, clearing his throat. "Lady Meriva, that is. A pleasure to have you join us." He chuckled at the mention of Nan and her workaholic ways, figuring such had been the reason for her absence thus far. "That's just like her… and how has the day fared for you yourself, my lady?" he inquired, regarding her in silence for a brief moment, thinking perhaps she looked a little weary herself.

Helene scrunched her features in mild discontent at the question, turning her gaze outward at the fields that lay beyond the city gates. "Truthfully..." the word tapered into an exhale as she shook her head. "I've lost a fair bit of sleep wrestling with the notion that, unlike most girls and ladies, I won't get to choose who I marry."

"I…" the captain pursed his lips, realizing he probably should've considered his words a little more carefully. The gravity of her sacrifice hadn't been entirely lost on him either, what the lawkeeper had to give up to keep the unity in place. "It's... no minor task you've been chosen to undertake. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

[/fieldbox]

 

[unanun]

70

T

he catamaran swiftly cut through Lake Behringer to the port city on the east shore, its docking delayed by a jam of cargo barges and water taxis. There was a purposeful energy that flowed through the peoples, and the crew and Miah were hustled off their ship with a certain brusqueness. The shouts, brays, snorts, curses, and banging slammed Miah in the face. Skills honed into instincts tried to organize the stimulus. Sort by colour. Sift by shape. Categorize and value the wares. Draw relationships, plot connections, see the web. Multiple waxed crates of Praxus wootz, bound for the smithing cantons in Aurum. Textiles, wools, dyes, and grains, destined for Amberhall for the Unification. It all floated like dust, impossible to grab or shape. Miah collapsed in a convulsing heap.

The shouts, brays, snorts, curses, and banging dulled to sweet smoke filling Miah's mouth. The mama lulu carried Miah away on a pleasant cloud - the cushioned interior of a carriage, actually, as their retinue squeezed its way out of the gates. They followed the trail of butterflies to Amberholm, one-hundred and sixty-three that flew along the cobblestones to the front gates. Miah should have greeted Helene, but the heir was speaking to a man whose antlers curled back until they nearly touched his backside.

The advance party from Aurum had done a good job on their chambers, in a breezy part of the palace. Tapestries covered the walls in red and gold. An attendant filled a small incense pot with leaf; a fox curled from the smoke and leapt through the tapestries, playing in the geometry before snatching a butterfly and vanishing out the window.

"Remember, Miah. You were selected for unification to be the best ambassador for our cantons. Show Iskelia how valuable our services can be. Elevate your partner to the highest standing" The attendant brushed a shower of blue-green dust from Miah's shawl, and adjusted it to show a touch more chest and shoulder. "Look your most beautiful."

I am beautiful? Miah thought.

Outside their room, Miah bumped into a horse-headed man. It snorted and swished its tail. Unsure of how to comfort the creature, Miah decided to slowly back away.

"Miah?" Horse-head extended a hoof. "It is a pleasure to see you again. What brings you here?"

A slight trick of the mind, and Miah shivered away the mama lulu in a perfumed sweat, shaking Jorgen's hand. The half-Ambitor of Praxus offered Miah his most cordial smile as he adjusted the shawl on Miah's shoulders to an appropriate modesty.

"I am here as Aurum's chosen." Miah bowed with one hand, pulling the skirt behind with the other in the traditional greeting. "Has horse-head successfully navigated his familial troubles?"

"Three hundred Windfola will be a tough sell, Master Jorgen." Miah checked the sheets. "They require a few more generations to dampen the tempermental spirit. The maintenance cost combined with expected accidents rate will make Fairlea unwilling to accept your offer. Might I suggest Emantaline or Felskarr? Their equestrian arts are more refined, and you can continue breeding the Windfola until they are more docile. I suggest crossing them with your warhorses."

Young Jorgen pursed his lips among the flurries. "I can see that you are not accepting my reason, Sir Jorgen. I am aware that your father is sick, but you do not need to fear resentment from your mother. There is no need to be so hasty in proving your worth. It is not your fault that your father and brother-

"Fairlea's postal service is always on time, Miah." Jorgen's lip twitched, but he retained his poise.

"As Jorgen says. I hope your mother agrees."

Jorgen did not push Miah into the snow, as he had back then. He gave Miah a firm pat on the shoulder and walked on, disappearing around the corner with turbulent waves of blue, his eyes as conflicted as the day he ran away. The snow was cold.

Miah wiped the sweat away, and resolved to visit the Aurum chambers as little as possible.

 

[Mundane Monster]

((Collaboration with @Drifter))

[fieldbox="ABOARD THE IRESSA DAWN, #440DDB, solid"]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Iressa Dawn[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] was uncharacteristically large for a river hunting ship, rivaling some of the galleons used by the pirates of the Hunter's sea. Too unwieldy and slow to actually do its intended job of hunting and pillaging in fresh water, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]The Iressa Dawn [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]served as a mobile base for river pirates on the lower Iressa, where the waters ran wide and deep. It was gambling den, fight club, all-around entertainment centre, almost a river-bound tavern. It was as close to a community hub as the Lucindian river pirates had. The Iressa Dawn had sailed for a full 5 years come this summer, owing its longevity not only to its few functioning cannons and fully-staffed crew, but also its reputation as a near-mythical ghost vessel, at least to the average Amberholm guardsman, co-opting and building upon earlier river legends about dead Felskarrans haunting the Iressa on a river chariot made of bone and steel.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But today, the Iressa also played escort to the Vice Admiral and her crew.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Well 'her' crew. The Admiral rotated his private fleet in and out between ventures into the sea. While the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Butcher[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] sailed out with the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Claimant[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent], the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Nightmare[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent], [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Dawn Breaker[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent], the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Shroud[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] and [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Helene's Oozing Cunt (HOC), [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]the other four ships the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Slicer, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Comrade, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Secret[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] and[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Freehold's Oath [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]remained anchored at shore, their crews on a break of sorts. Very few of those currently on shore leave were experienced raiders, and Holly had hand-picked a smattering of 30 of them to accompany on this most tedious of ancient customs.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]One of them was Avice Alona, the Freehold's best doctor and chief surgeon of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]The Butcher[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]; faint praise maybe given the general state of medicine in the Freehold, but her expertise was true regardless of her sore lack of practicing peers.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Avice Alona, stood with her hands crossed behind her back, one hand clasped in the other. The breeze was swirling her wispy blond hair around her head, but despite the pleasant atmosphere, Avice's mood was anything but. She didn't like the Unification, she understood it's purpose but that didn't mean she had to approve of it. The fact that, Holly, her leader was simply bending to the will of others, annoyed her. She hadn't mentioned these feelings and opinions to Holly, but never one to hold back, Avice figured she should, even if they were almost to their destination.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Inhaling deeply, Avice strode in the direction of the deck where Holly was looking out at the river, at the trees passing them back, a blank look on her face. Coming to a stop beside the quartermaster, Avice breathed out through her nose. "I don't understand why you must comply with this [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]tradition[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. What will happen after your union? What will become of," She gestured at the other woman, then the structure around them, "this?"[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent][/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Holly didn't answer at first. Hell, she didn't even look like she was listening. She left Avice standing there for a bit, but before the good doctor could repeat the question again, she said, without turning towards her:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"This remains, Doctor Alona." she said. "And so will I. When the Unification garbage, I'll simply return to the Freehold. Life goes on." It wasn't quite as simple as that. Nathaniel had his instructions, and what heir she was paired with drastically changed those instructions, but she was quite determined to walk away from this completely intact and completely free. She wasn't a gambling woman, not really, but betting on herself had always been a safe choice.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Avice ground her teeth in irritation. "Life won't simply [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]go on. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]It won't just be you anymore. It'll be you [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]and [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]someone else. And it won't just be the Freehold anymore, it'll be the Freehold [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]and [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]somewhere else." She was trying to keep her composure, and trying to keep their conversation between the two of them and not the rest of the crew. However the Vice Admiral's nonchalance about the matter worried and irked her.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When Avice decided to stay with Holly--and the rest of The Butcher's crew-- she gave her entire being to them. She chose the Freehold over Aurum, the land where she was born and raised in! She chose not to seek help to rescue her from her predicament with the pirates because she knew she could dedicate her life to a new home. Oh, of course the pirates were crude and prone to darker aspect of the spectrum, and of course she didn't appreciate the constant nagging about her lack of 'grit'. But she accepted that this would be her new life and it may be selfish but she didn't want anything to change.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Turning away, Avice dug her nails into her arms as she crossed them in front of her. "And you know soon enough, you won't be Vice Admiral. Well at least not for several months, because after the Unification, I hold no doubt that your intended won't be the only addition to this crew. Soon enough, it'll be you and someone else and a [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]baby[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]." She spat, fully aware that she was pushing her boundaries, but she wanted Holly to show some damn feeling![/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Either Nathaniel had seeded a bunch of mother hens he knew she would pick amongst the shore crew, or… no, actually that was it. They were there, and they had denied her entertainment; she had tried to fight in the cage earlier, only to be pulled kicking and screaming by Mr. Mcgraw, Mr. Henshaw, and Mr. Idris, three burly gunners from the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Claimant[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]. Something about not looking like a banged-up corpse when entering Amberholm…Fair point, she guessed, she would have cleaned house till she broke everyone or crumbled over trying, She didn't drink and she didn't gamble, so that was out of the question. And now the good doctor, everyone's self-appointed conscience, had decided that she wasn't behaving the way the universe decreed she should be. That she should be barking and screaming injustice over her current lot in life.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Doctor Alona, if I may ask, and I suggest you give some thought to the answer," Holly said, turning towards the doctor. "When was the last time you got the shit kicked out of you?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Well now she'd done it. Avice stepping back quickly, unwilling to get into a fight that she would most definitely lose. "My apologies, Vice Admiral Corsa." Avice murmured, her fiery gaze dissipating. If she had been any other pirate, she was sure she would have kept on pushing the quartermaster's buttons until they spattered the deck with specks of blood. Unfortunately, she was the pirate with the least amount of [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]grit [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]in all of Lucinda's Freehold, so she wisely shut her trap.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I go, I look, I say my vows, and I never see them again. Life goes on." Holly repeated. Avice had the skilled hands of a goddess and the heart of an Amberholm chicken. Even wailing on her felt more chore than satisfaction. "We get a first-hand look into Amberhall, into the belly of the sheep, and we move on with that knowledge. Your mind, doctor Alona, has a tendency towards the complicated; but it is as fuckin' simple as that."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She didn't think it was that simple. But she sure as hell wasn't going to tell the woman that. Getting beat by Holly was a jarring and severely painful experience mainly because Avice was a terrible brawler and her lack of aggressiveness seemed to anger the quartermaster more. "Simple as that," She parroted "right."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'm not getting married, Ever, no matter the writings on parchment says," she said, perhaps more for herself than Avice. "We're arriving soon, I should get changed into something a bit more[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] formal[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]." She said the word like it was poison. She had insisted, quite strongly, that if white, sleeveless linen and discolored leather was fine for raiding, it was fine for this sham of a marriage, but Nathaniel, micro-manager of her life a, had insisted on the ceremonial garb of lucindian admirals with its stupid hat and it's stupid long coat and its stupid matching lapels and its stupid stupid stupid…[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=transparent]"I appreciate the concern, Doctor Alona," she said, giving an uncharacteristically gentle tap on the surgeon's shoulder as she walked past and back into the ship. "But I suggest you stick to your area of expertise, and not tell me how to fuckin' feel about my life."

[/BCOLOR][/fieldbox][/BCOLOR]

 

[Fiona]

[fieldbox="Cora Astraea - Arriving, #c0c0ff, dashed, 10"]The journey had been eventful, to say the least; Cora had learned a lot about horses in her time incessantly quizzing poor Jorgen, sometimes with mundane, silly things and sometimes with probing questions about his home that might have been a touch too personal for some but felt natural to her. She still hadn't managed to ascertain entirely whether horses sneezed, though. He never answered that particular question, regardless of how she tried to make him do so, and she was sure she'd caught a few odd looks from him when she asked it occasionally over their meals or across her most recent cup of sweet steaming tea.

Actually, she'd gotten a lot of strange looks, now she thought about it. The bandits, say... The group had stopped to take a break and Cora being still-sore from the unusual activity had slid off her horse, with a little help from one of the bigger farmhands. She went for a little wander, and wandered into a little group of bandits. "Give us all your stuff," had been the demand, and Cora being… well, Cora… had immediately decided to do exactly that. Maybe not all of it, but each of the bandits found themselves being tugged off back to the entourage from Praxus and then smothered in various items from Cora's own stash. Woolly scarves and mittens, a necklace here or there for a girlfriend, a good-sized handful of mama lulu in one case, and a big, bright smile for each and every one of them. The normally brutish individuals had been gobsmacked; as the whole crew saddled back up – Cora drove her horse into Jorgen for about the eighth time as she attempted to climb on – they could only stare. Jorgen himself had then spent a long, long few minutes with his face buried in his hand as they rode. Apparently 'that wasn't done', whatever that meant, but she'd made them happy! That was better than getting mad or sad or having to start fights, right?

As she thought back on the whole ordeal, questions and horses and bandits alike, dotted with the occasional little bicker about swords and their importance, Cora actually did smile once more, a little warm sensation bubbling through her chest. She might not have a lot in common with Jorgen and she didn't know if she could really call herself his 'friend', but the shared experience had been interesting, something she could treasure and take home to tell her parents over… Oh. Was it going to be her home, if she had to marry? Didn't some of these things tend to end with the girl being immediately yanked off to the male's home? Perhaps she could coax them back to Fairlea with cooking! Cheered almost immediately by the prospect of cooking for someone else, future husband or no, Cora flicked experimentally at her reins. She'd picked up a meagre handful of things, but they were a useful handful. She directed her own party towards the gates, only to find herself abruptly stopping bare instants later, probably confusing her poor horse.

A little boy was outside the gates, sniffling quietly and rubbing his nose repeatedly across his sleeve. No! Poor darling, where was…? Cora's gaze flitted from place to place to place, searching for his adult, and when she found nothing she frowned, slipping sorely and a touch awkwardly from her horse. One of the farmhands hurriedly grasped at the reins, keeping the beast in check lest it try again to bite her somewhere unsavoury.

"Are you lost, little buddy?" More on his level now, she approached with a concerned expression. The child nodded tearfully, took another big sniff and another wipe of his nose on his sleeve.

"I came looking for mummy, but- but- but she's not he-he-here…"Anger flashed across Cora's face briefly before being stifled again by compassion, and she pushed her way in, taking a slightly-pudgy hand, mindless of the places it had been.

"Come on, let's go find mummy together. Cora's going to make sure you find her, okay? We'll find mister soldier and ask him to help us find your mummy." The child nodded, clinging into her and letting her lead him. She made a beeline for the first set of soldiers she could see. This might not technically be their job, but they sure as heckie were going to help her, or else she'd have to take little…

"What's your name, little buddy?"

"Dom'nic," came another sniffly response, not quite as muffled by arms or hands now that he clung to her hand like a lifeline. Cora squeezed slightly at the little hand she held, wanting to hug him but restraining the need for the moment. He was getting calmer, and she didn't need to remind him that he was in a situation that really did demand hugs and coddling.

"Well, Dominic, you stick with Cora until we find mummy or daddy, okay? Even if I have to take you up to the big hall with me!" [/fieldbox]

 

[Mundane Monster]

[fieldbox="Lorelei Kyth, #364a35, solid"]"Ah, so we meet again."

Lorelei couldn't help the face she made when she opened the door of her home to see the woman who had nearly flattened her a few hours prior. The woman was red in the face, breathing heavily and had one of her legs hoisted onto a foot stool. Mara, Lorelei's aunt was crouched beside the woman, hurriedly mashing some leaves with a stone and pestle. However since the bowl contained no liquid, she was only making a mess and was getting increasingly agitated as the leaves flew out of the bowl.

"What are you doing, auntie? And what happened to you, Ma'am...?" Lorelei inquired taking the bowl from her flustered aunt, who gave a pitiful shrug and left the room. Lorelei's aunt was an odd woman, who although she was completely healthy physically, she could never find the words to communicate with others but she had a heart of gold so she was always willing to lend a hand, even though she knew nothing of an apothecary's business. Thankfully though, she was good at housework and she always seemed at ease cooking for her brother and Lorelei.

The stranger released a long sigh. "Berel, the name's Tansy Berel. And oh, I feel like such a fool. As it turns out, rushing to and fro and shouting at people isn't the best way to go about life." The large woman shot Lorelei an apologetic look which the apprentice accepted even if it wasn't spoken. "I shouted on the wrong lass and as I walked past she stuck her leg out and I took a nasty fall." Lorelei winced at that and crouched down to take a look at Tansy's leg. There was a small pink knot on her ankle that was beginning to swell, and when Lorelei grazed it with her fingers, the woman hissed in pain.

"Well it's sprained, that's for sure. I hope you have someone to take over for you at your shop or to help you at least, because you'll definitely need to use a walking stick and you won't be able to move around as much. I think we have one in the back somewhere," Lorelei said getting up only to have a short walking stick handed to her by Mara, who must have been listening in.

"Oh!" Tansy suddenly yelped, struggling to her feet. "Oh no! Oh dear!"

"What? What's wrong? Is there more pain--

"My boy! My son, Dominic, I told him that when I had a moment we could watch some of the arrivals! I told him to run along to the gate. I have to go get him! My Gods, how could I let a thing like that slip my mind! I don't think I'll be able to make it there on my own...Could you...Could you help me there?"

She was really busy. She'd only come home to freshen up, so she could rejoin her father at their shop but she didn't want to abandon the woman to traverse the busy streets alone and with a walking stick! "Of course." Lorelei chirped, and quickly secured Tansy's ankle with bandages before offering her arm for support.

It took them quite a bit to reach the gates because Tansy had something to say to and about every 'idiot' they came across. Apparently she hadn't learned her lesson. Honestly Lorelei wondered how this woman was even a mother with her short temper and gruff exterior. Maybe her son was an exact replica of his mother or an even bigger brat?

"Oh my Dommie!" The woman suddenly bellowed startling Lorelei. There was a sandy haired little boy standing next to a stunning young woman with an entourage behind her and Lorelei eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. She wasn't absolutely sure, but she was almost positive, that that young woman was an heir. Basically royalty. Someone you shouldn't simply approach, especially if you're a frantic mother of astounding size, however Lorelei arm was still hooked in Tansy's so now she was just along for the ride.

"My sweet sweet boy, I'm so--Who. Are. You?" Tansy stared at the hand that held her boy's as if it belonged to a bear not a person. Her gaze slowly rose until she was staring the heir in her face, and realization set upon it. "Oh. Oh! My apologies, my lady. I didn't realize that--Well--Thank you for keeping my son company, while I came to fetch him. I'll take him now." She said humbly, and held out a big hand for her son who happily grabbed it with his tiny one.[/fieldbox]

@Fiona

 

[LVL1337N00B]

((Collab with @Voices of Nerat and @Drifter))
[fieldbox="The Pirate and the Prince, #80002a, solid, 5, Tahoma"]

Hideki seemed excited, but for Anzu, the city's nearing was cause for dread. Throughout the entirety of their journey there had been a sickly feeling deep in the young warrior's gut, and that feeling was beginning to intensify now that the end of the trek was so near. Her prince, her friend since childhood, would soon be wed to a Hillborn. That he'd be bound to such an inferior creature, the thought alone was enough for her insides to violently churn.

Her personal feelings were kept quiet for the time being however, as she felt opening a discussion on the matter would only serve to distract her from any potential threats, of which she was certain there would be many in these foreign lands. The Hillborn were savages, after all, and could not be expected to allow travellers passage unharassed. Prince Hideki was unsafe here, even under her protection. Anzu's expression was stony and her posture tight, the shaft of her weapon gripped firmly as they rode toward Amberholm's capital.

"We must remain vigilant, even as we enter the city. Even during the Unity-", she shook her head and corrected herself. "No, especially during the Unity, there lies the potential for danger at every turn."

The soldier next to her nodded, but the prince, still confined to the inside of the wagon merely huffed, slamming the book in his hands shut and setting it aside. "Come now, are you saying we won't even be able to relax within the city walls? That's patently ridiculous, my lady. Our allies in the capital would not let anything befall us. The unity is just as important to them as it-"

Hideki's words were cut short by a sudden bark, followed by a chorus of barks that seemed an acknowledgement of the first. The wardogs were riled up by something it seemed, and that something became quite apparent to Anzu when Yatori brought the cart to a full stop, motioning towards what looked to be a cadre of unknown persons approaching from the opposite direction. "My lady!" one of the soldiers at the fore of the caravan shouted, looking to the royal protector, "We've sighted a group up ahead. Your orders?"

"I will meet them myself. Two of you will accompany me", she responded as she climbed down from her seat next to their driver. "The rest of you, form a protective circle around the prince. He must not come to harm by any means, understood?" Her orders given, Anzu marched toward the unidentified group, her polearm held at the ready. Yatori jumped down to join her, blade drawn, as did another.

"What is going on? Why have we stopped?" Hideki inquired, peeking his head out from behind the wagon's curtain door, only to see his contingent of protectors had encircled the vehicle, spears pointed out in every which direction. It took only a second for the prince to process what was happening, but instead of being fearful, he merely rolled his eyes, looking to the nearest soldier. "Let me guess. Another cow in the road, right? Oh, but it could be a trap to put us off guard, obviously…" With a sigh he disappeared into the interior of the wagon once more, assuming they'd be moving again in a few short moments.

As Anzu's party drew nearer to the strangers, their visages became clearer. Their garb appeared somewhat more fanciful than the average bandit, but there was no mistaking what these people were. Hideki's bodyguard narrowed her eyes and thrust her naginata outward, pointing its blade at the brigands. "Clear out, at once. I will not allow you to impede upon our progress." Even as she said this, in the back of her mind she'd be glad for the excuse to turn back, but her duty was to see prince Hideki to Amberhall.

"Well, ain't you just a precious litt'ol thing?", one of the men taunted, his hand resting atop the hilt of a sword in a way that was obviously meant to draw attention. "How 'bout we have us a bit of fun with the lass, aye boys?"

The two men accompanying Anzu began to step forward, but she halted them with a silent gesture and moved up in their stead. The man who had teased her and a pair of what could be assumed to be his underlings met her halfway, each with a mile-long shit eating grin spread across their scarred faces. Anzu stood face to face with the ugliest of the three Hillborn, her expression calm and her eyes cold. He reached out.

One swift strike with the blunt end of her weapon was all it took to send the man to his knees, clutching at his jewels. "Y-you miserable fuckin' twat!", the man growled. "Get 'er!" The other two men wasted no time in lunging at the comparatively small girl, their eyes wild. She quickly stepped back and the two collided where she once stood, then she spun past them, smashing her weapon's shaft into the back of their necks in the process. With those two out of the way, she now stood with her blade against the first man's neck, still silent and glaring daggers at him.

They'd been dealt with, but there were still many more. Countless thugs unsheathed their blades, and it was then that something peculiar caught Anzu's eye; Among all the weapons drawn were cutlasses and traditional Takaman blades. A moment of thought was all it took for her to reach a dreadful realization.

"Come out, devil woman!"

"No can do, baby A. You bloody terrify me." There it was; the condescension, the wide crocodile smile, the sick presumptuous patronage that a pirate saw as friendliness. The queen of the seaborn pretenders did not simply speak to her as an equal; she, of hillborn blood and birth, spoke to her as a child.

As a lesser.

She was at least a head shorter than almost every one of the men there, yet they parted without fuss when she pushed through. She was...it occurred to Anzu that she had never seen the seal-mating gorgon with sleeves before. Broad-brimmed hat, navy-blue long coat, a fancy red cravat tucked into her white shirt. She even had ornate-looking epaulettes.

"Mr. Creedy, Mr. Lanchester, Mr. Grag," she said, with the admonishing tone of a mother so disappointed in her children. "I regret to inform you that you all just got your asses kicked by a little takaman lass!" she burst out laughing, clapping one of their shoulders as they struggled to get to their feet, causing them to fall back down all over again. "No shame, though, no shame at all. You got crapped on by an imperial protector; they're trained from young to - CAN WE ALL AT LEAST PUT DOWN OUR WEAPONS?"

Yatori and the other man accompanying Anzu lowered their weapons, albeit with some hesitation, but the young woman herself showed no signs of following suit. Her cold expression had turned fiery, eyes full of hate as she stared down the Vice Admiral. She approached the woman, stopping within arm's reach and gritting her teeth, expending every bit of self restraint inside of her to resist striking the wench down where she stood. Two of the pirates stepped forth to block her, but the wench put out an arm to stop them.

"Clear out. We've more important matters to attend to than waste our time with the likes of you."

"Baby A. Miss Ienari," she corrected herself. If she was feeling even the slightest ounce of fear, nothing in her body language seemed to show it. She was the calm sun-lit meadow to Anzu's raging storm. "How you've grown. You used to be-" she put a palm up at her waist "-this high. Cute as a button. Adorable, still, I mean. STILL WOULD HAVE KICKED YOUR SORRY ASSES THOUGH." she suddenly shouted, addressing Anzu's three victims, the pirate's cold, dead eyes and her toothy crocodile smile never leaving Anzu's fiery ones.

"Yours too, hillborn slag."

"For old time's sake, miss Ienari." Still smiling that toothy smile. "Do not try that slur with me, you infant."

"Both of you, please. This is all quite childish."

Before another taunt could be leveled from either side, the prince's voice rang out from a short distance away, the lithe young man practically gliding along the ground in that silk robe of his. He was closely shadowed by the rest of the retinue that had stayed behind, their weapons still at the ready. The wardogs hadn't shut their yaps yet either, practically foaming at the mouth at the sight of these interlopers. Guess they don't like the smell of pirate much.

"Apologies lady Ienari," one of the soldiers called out, "he refused to stay in the-"

"I may go where I please," Hideki stated rather matter-of-factly, shooting that specific retainer a rather unamused glance, the man going silent and bowing his head in shame. "I am a prince, after all."

"But mother," Holly whined in a fake child-like voice, pointing a finger -a middle finger- at Anzu. "She started it."

"And I'll end it too", she replied, her tone lacking no amount of seriousness or bite. That brief flash of rage in Holly's dead eyes told her that she hit something.

Hideki sighed, looking to his protector. "Anzu, please. Cease this. And you," he looked to the vice admiral, wanting to scold her in some similar way but found himself taken aback, just now noticing the fanciful getup she was wearing. "I've never seen you in such… colorful regalia, lady Corsa. You look quite fetching," he commented, attempting to stifle a chuckle with the long sleeve of his robe, to mixed success.

"Fuck you too, buddy." Holly said, and for the first time her smile seemed genuine, her eyes not quite the dead shards they were but seconds ago. She leaned in for a hug, practically lifting him up by his tippie toes. "It's good to see you again, cocksucker." and to her own surprise, she meant it. Her giant hat smacked against his face, the long, white sea eagle feathers upon it tickling his eyes.

No amount of eye-rolling could accurately describe the way Anzu felt as she listened to her prince and the pirate address eachother so casually, but she kept her comments to herself at his behest. When the devil woman embraced Hideki, her grip on her weapon became so tight that her knuckles went white. She had no doubt in her mind that the woman's goal was to make her jealous. It did work, after all.

"Mind your tongue, wench. You speak to royalty." So much for keeping quiet.

Anyone else would've been offended being referred to in such a derogatory way, but Hideki merely laughed, not struggling as the vice admiral lifted him like a wee babe. Trying to get the unnecessarily large hat out of his face, he decided to steal it off her head and set it on his own, though the inside of it was just a slight bit too large and subsequently fell down over his eyes. Rather than mind, Holly seemed to react to the lost hat with some small glee, as if a great burden has been lifted from her.

"Really now, Anzu, it's quite alright. Though I do hope you'll be a tad less crass for the ceremony at least, lady Corsa. We all need to be on our best behavior." He knew his words would fall on deaf ears, however; Holly was always Holly, and nothing would stop that.

"I'm a good girl and these are good lads. We pay our taxes, we don't drink and sail, and we conduct business responsibly. Per example, you've asked for a token gesture of friendship to the Takaman and I have given you my hat and I am NEVER. GETTING. IT. BACK." very pointedly shouting at the anonymous mate who had been charged with keeping her getup intact. "And I am, as a friend, asking you not to fault miss lenari for her disposition. The removal of the tumors of her chest is no small thing to survive and it leaves one quite testy. Right, doctor Alohan? You must have seen too many of these breastless wonders in your storied career."

Avice started in surprise, as she had been enraptured by what was enfolding before her. Leaning forward to scrutinize the aforementioned woman's chest, she nodded sagely. "The procedure would cause some depression, as the lady has displayed."

"Thank you, doctor."

"My lord", Anzu practically growled, now very visibly seething with rage. For all her patience, Holly certainly had a way of making her lose her composure. "Step away from miss Corsa, that I might silence her foul mouth. Permanently."

"She called me miss Corsa, Hidi." she said, perhaps the most insulting part throughout it all was the fact that she was facing the prince, Anzu not even deigned a glance. "Our baby's growing up so fast."

Anzu took one step toward Holly, her brows knit tightly together and her polearm very briefly raised. She took a breath then, and returned to a neutral, though very tense stance.

"No no, no more fighting," Hideki shook his head, then pointed to the walled city in the distance. "I'd like not to waste any more time getting to Amberhall, as it's been quite the long journey already. That, and we wouldn't want to get any blood on these nice clothes of yours, would we?" Replacing the hat on Holly's head, his feet were finally allowed to touch solid ground once more.

"Thank you for the offer, but you should keep this. Your ensemble would look incomplete without it." He gave her a warm smile, an expression that made it hard to tell whether he knew exactly what he was doing or not.

"You're too gracious." In a tone that sounded more like it suited et tu, brute?

"As lord Hideki says, it has been a long journey. We must take our leave now. Goodbye, miss Corsa."

"Now now, that won't do. Why not make the rest of the trip together? We're quite close already, and as you've always said, there's safety in numbers, is there not?" Hideki put a slender arm around his admiral friend, patting her on the shoulder. "Besides, I'd love to catch up with the Vice Admiral some more." He spoke Holly's title in a somewhat teasing manner, knowing she wasn't all that fond of her position, namely all the responsibilities it required of her.

Anzu internally cursed herself for saying so, her disdain written plainly on her face. "Be that as it may, my lord, I must advise against inviting her into our company", she said, neglecting to mention the reason for that being that she doubted her ability to resist attacking the woman.

Naturally, and to Anzu's remorse, they were soon on their to Amberholm together. The most annoying part about the whole debacle was that the war hounds seemed to really, really take to Holly. The traitorous beasts.

Bitches recognize bitches, she mused bitterly.

[/fieldbox]

 

[Turtle of Doom]

[fieldbox=A Long Journey, #2F8467, dashed, 10, Bradley Hand ITC]
"You should have left yesterday morning."

"I know, but it just did not feel like the right time to set out." Kaiea flashed a grin at his father and rose from a crouch off deck the vasa they were currently loading with supplies.

His father's eyes flashed with the irritation he felt. "This is more important than you know, you foolish child. You do not realize the implications of your tardiness."

Kaiea's grin turned a bit sheepish as he ran a hand through his flame-colored hair, and shrugged. "I do know, father. You've made sure I knew, now if you don't mind, we're running a bit behind schedule and all." He gestured behind him with a wave of the hand, and chuckled before adding. "As you've pointed out."

"Yes, yes. Off with you, now. May the sea be kind."

Kaiea quickly bowed his head in honor of the traditional and formal words before turning back to the crew. His traveling party included a group of eight Koa even though he'd ardently argued and tried to convince his father that so many warriors would not be needed for a ceremony of peace. Nonetheless, Allike had not budged in his decision. He thought it wise to present a strong front, and strong front is what Ma Ka Wai would present. Aside from the eight Koa arriving with him, three more had been sent in advance to ready his rooms, despite Kaiea emphatically protesting and claiming he didn't need anything to be prepared for him.

​

The sky was clear as they set out, save for some steel grey storm clouds on the horizon behind them, but as luck would have it, they outpaced it the entire way. The group of Koa noticeably tensed as they sailed closer to Lucinda's Freehold, but Kaiea was not too worried about it.

He repeatedly pleaded with their senses. "They would not be so bold to attack us on the way to the Unification." But his logic fell on deaf ears.

Kaiea navigated the Vasa through the Freehold's channel, hugging the coastline of the mainland and making way towards the rivers that would lead them directly to Amberholm. It was a risky move, traveling directly in the waters that the pirates claimed as their own, but again, Kaiea was sure that they would not attack with the Unification ceremony looming so closely over their heads.

There was a lot of time to think during the voyage. In fact, there wasn't much to do beyond thinking. His nerves were on edge, his mind traveling a mile a minute. He imagined his life with the heir of Lucinda's Freehold as his wife, and the thought made him cringe. He couldn't actually very well imagine a life with anybody, but it was not really his choice, so he was going to make the best of it. Kaiea also thought an awful lot about seeing Amberholm for the first time. He'd never traveled this far inland before, and the idea of his travels, not only to Amberholm, but to his new spouse's homeland had him practically giddy. So much to see, and only one lifetime to do it.

The journey was long. It took several days to even reach the mouth of the river, but once they had Kaiea became more noticeably distraught. Stuck on Vasa for so long was playing on his sensibilities. He spent a lot of his time pacing up and down the deck, checking and double checking the knots of the sails. He grew more and more restless as they navigated the river, though now his time had meaning, his job became navigating around the other vessels as they made their way down the channels and they were plentiful enough. Fishermen posted on small rafts dotted the waters here and there calling out greetings, to which Kaiea gleefully returned. He needed interaction beyond the stoic and familiar faces he'd been trapped with for the journey.

Soon, he thought to himself. I'll be free to move about and meet as many people as I please.

A sly smile pulled up the corners of his mouth as the thought worked through his mind. He glanced about at the Koa, and he knew they would be enraged, but the truth of the matter is that he would be slipping from their watchful gaze the first chance he got. He didn't want his first experience in Amberhall to be stunted by them. And they wouldn't know a good time if it bent over in front of them.

Their arrival was far less eventful than Kaiea had wished for it to be. He had wanted a grand entrance with live birds and monkeys leading a parade through the city where he would draw the attention of anyone nearby, but it had not been feasible to transport anything so extravagant. So, instead their arrival was simply announced at the dock, as the Vasa was tied off.

He hopped off the boat, and swaggered a bit as he struggled to get his bearings on firm ground once again. His smile lit up his face, his bare chest and shoulders raised proudly as he approached the nearby dockhands and greeted them with a cheerful enthusiasm. The process was repeated time and time again as he approached the main gate. Every passerby was greeted, and several of them gave him extremely strange looks, but nobody questioned him. At the gate he actually threw his head back and laughed. It was such a sight. The people and the markets were more than he could have hoped for, not to mention the clusters of buildings. So much more than he was used to seeing on Ma Ka Wai. He was overwhelmed and giddy and he wanted to see it all. But at the moment he was too entranced with the view to move, and surrounded by the Koa, Kaiea stood just inside the gate, his smile and his eyes both wide with childlike wonder.[/fieldbox]

 

[Mglo]

Dominon of Praxus Nation 3

"Everything alright Jorgen?"

Gavrel had gone ahead with a few others in order to unpack while Jorgen had made the ceremonial procession through the front gate. He'd found it hard not to look around in wonder, his curiosity piqued at every turn though the Praxus way was immovable continuance, but he'd managed it well enough. Now he found himself faced with the most irksome part of Gavrel, the part of him that could see through someone and then have the gall to ask about it straight out.

"Indeed. Met Miah just now, Aurum's heir elect," he said offhandedly though Gavrel knew better, "if I hadn't witnessed it during our journey I'd have been blind to the effects." He could see it then, Princess Cora's group round the fire by the foot of the Barracuda Mountains. His retinue had glowered and gone so far as to set up another fire, until Cora herself had merrily come to pull him away and into the smoking den of mama lulu enthusiasts. Oh, he'd learned what mama lulu was then, to Gavrel's dismay and to his. The sheer lack of control over his senses and the sudden unreliability of his world was enough to have him swear off that evil. He'd later found out Praxias also partook of it every now and then, when a fight had been particularly brutal enough to force rest. That use he understood, though even then he'd rather suffer through the pain.

"Don't remind me..." the tinge of failure was evident in his tone, enough that Jorgen would have given him an apple if he could spare them, but he thought the horses had earned them first on their journey, "what are your thoughts on Amberholm? Very friendly and animated are they not?"

"The welcome was excessive," Jorgen replied as he disappeared into the next room. "I didn't notice Princess Cora disappear; there were so many people," he echoed through the sound of water, "the others were so battle-ready and I so focused on being heir-like that it made the experience so thoroughly unenjoyable. Inconsiderate to place such stress on a traveler upon arrival."

When showered, he walked out and promptly changed into the long black royal coat embroidered with gold, "having said that, I do enjoy these rooms. It's almost like being back home." He looked around the wide room containing only the necessary, plain looking to most though little details were scattered about the area. There was space enough to train, perhaps even have a proper combat session. If he hadn't the intension to treat his horses, Jorgen would have gladly stayed indoors. With a deep breath and a bag full of apples, Jorgen aimed for the door.

"Ambitor Jorgen? Aren't you forgetting something?" Gavrel's grave voice boomed with apprehension, "we're out of our territory and you are a Dominion of Praxus royal."

"Right. Knife good enough for you?" Jorgen asked, hand on the door.

"Take two just in case, and if you come back with even a scratch I'll have you regret your birth."

"My faithful Protector. See you later Gav," Jorgen reached for the knives nearby, gave a salute to the others, and walked out the door alone.