Kaustir, Chapter 1

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NAE
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"I see."

Nae dropped from the shelf to the ground silently and paused there squatting on the floor in thought, mostly ignoring whatever else the woman droned on about once she had identified the plant, or offered up what little she knew. That one tip was plenty to give Nae cause to reflect deeply on it. "Hn. Viridos. So far from home little one..."

She was still talking when he rose from the floor and with an absent wave of his hand he pointed to the jar in question. "Fine. I'll buy that if it will get you to shut up. Otris?" The tall human appeared in the doorway seconds after his name was called, waiting for just such a time.

"You summoned me, sir?" The noise from the streets was getting louder and it increased when the door opened as the man entered.

"Mortal indeed, " Nae cooed, casting a glance at Arania and thinking of the games going on right then. Otris waited patiently in front of him, eyes locked on Nae, well used to waiting on the odd little male. "Pay her whatever she requires for a sample from that jar up there, and fetch it down." As Otris did just that, Nae continued on. "To bad you didn't share all that resolve of staying here sooner. It may have saved your breath, my ears and K'jol a good ten minutes. Hn?"

Instead of reclaiming his perch on her counter he chose a table like any civilized troll would.. actually on the table, each foot planted on the back of a chair, while waiting for the transaction to be made. When it was so, Otris exited the shop leaving Nae staring at Arania carefully.

"Hn... You will have to do. Though you may not like it." he mumbled this in his native tongue, but then clasped his hands, narrowed his eyes, smiled and raised his voice to an audible level speaking so she would again understand him. "My plans have changed. And I do have a request or two of you. You are skilled at concocting various tinctures and what not, how are you at the opposite? Can you examine something already combined to determined it's individual parts? And would you be opposed to traveling from here, so long as your safety was guaranteed, as much as reasonable and within my power?"



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K'larr sat in the center of his chambers, unmoved from hours before when the others sat before him. Though now, his grasp was set on the relic that had first been the matter of discussion: the ancient stone tablet unearthed by Jafaar and Bracht.

He looked over the small sheet of rock carefully, "The stone carver was actually able to create the altered replica in such a short time? Excellent, the advantages a sack of Czars affords one, no? And you were able to slip it and the instruction to the boy without anyone taking notice?", the sly merchant hissed at his servant in a joyful tone, receiving a mountain of nods as an answer to each question. "Wonderful. That is all Vira.", the girl slinked back behind her silken curtains.

Lets hope this carver's work is as good as he promised, otherwise, I may not live out the day... he thought to himself, smiling a strange smile, a mix of resignation and hope. "We shall see."




 
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Baren grunted as his blades were caught in the figure. His eyes widened behind his mask as he was overtaken by the cloaks speed. The Broken Beast of Kaustir flew back, now with a long gash across his chest. Blood started to drip and ooze from the wound, and Baren was in so much shock that he couldn't even see the person the thing in front of him that took him by surprise. The figure then slammed into him, and he fell against the ground with a thud. It was obvious to him that life was soon about to be out of his grasp. He felt another slash go deep into his shoulder and just laid there. The voices began to come back into his head, and he writhed along the ground as the cloaked man gave a speech. Screams of pain and agitation came to the beast before a slight sobbing sound. After a few seconds, it all ended. The Broken Beast was no more.







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K'Jol was surprised to see someone actually take down the Broken Beast of Kaustir, even though he didn't know who it was. The masked figure went on to say that the three nations may be having strife with each other, but Kaustir had something that the other nations didn't. The Draken brute quirked his eyebrow at this statement as he know became interested in the mysterious warrior. It was obvious that the others within the coliseum had as much interest as he did. The figure went on to say that an expedition in the Deep Sands brought out something that was going to give them an edge - A Divine Weapon. The cloak then ripped it's mask off, and K'Jol's eyes widened as he saw the man that took down Baren. It was Lut. The Nocturne boy who he had doubted all this time was actually skilled in battle? A grin came upon the Draken's face as another man across the arena yelled out a question, asking where it was. Lut went on to say that it was within the Deep Sands, and that an expedition was going to go out shortly. He then yelled, saying not to be afraid of the old ones and that it was the people of Kaustir's duty to take the future for themselves and that the Czar could confirm all of this himself. A confused look went to the Czar before K'Jol walked down the steps and went past Da'Haka and Nahal, going towards Lut. When he arrived in front of him, he looked the Nocturne dead in the eye.

"I hope you're not lying."







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ARANIA - AVARATH
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Arania looked at Otris with a calm expression. Soon after that, they talked a bit back and forth about the price, and eventually, it was sold and Otris disappeared again. Arania looked at Nae curiously, her eyes darkening slightly as her hair shadowed her face. She brushed a lock of that hair away from her eyes and closed them. She wasn't sure if she should believe him.

One thing was selling him a rare herb that she had no use for anyways, but another thing was completely entrusting herself to someone that she did not know anything about.

"Perhaps I was a bit frightened." She said thoughtfully as she looked at him. "I suppose I didn't want to get on a bad start with a warrior. I'm not a fighter." She didn't say anything else when she was done. There was no point in being annoyed with him, seeing as that would just make him more nasty to be around. After all, arguing didn't get anyone anywhere. She had seen humans do it so often, but there was no point... no point at all. It didn't bring anything but spiteful emotions, and then they made up and forgot about it anyways... she did not see a point in something as stupid as that.

"The opposite?" She said as she looked at him. She hadn't tried that before, but she supposed that it wouldn't be impossible... it was all up to testing the abilities and then find out what components it could possibly be made out of. It didn't seem to her like such a difficult task. "I suppose that I could do that, theoretically. Conducting tests and concluding would be the same as when brewing, I need to test for special reactions to different things..." She wondered aloud as she looked back at him. "Before agreeing to this, I'd like to know what I'm supposed to investigate. For now, I'll say yes to your offer, but I believe I need to know what I'm getting myself into."

She dragged a black cape over her shoulders and pulled up the hood, looking at him through the shadow of it. "Well, if you want to show me what I'm supposed to investigate, you better lead the way. I'd prefer to get back before the sun is at its peak. I am a nocturne, after all."

Her voice held a bit of amusement as she spoke. She walked over to a locked cabinet and opened it, taking out empty bottles and a little kit for sampling. She put it all in a bag at the belt around her hips, covering herself completely with the cape afterwards. Her face was almost hidden, and that was how she preferred it. She'd never figured out why the place holding most nocturnes was the place with the biggest amount of sun in the entire kingdom. She had never questioned it, seeing as she could well live with it on her own. [/dash]
 
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"Korsch..."

The dark-skinned slave looked up. Even weak with blood-loss, he recalled his new name. The Czar was pointing to a bodyguard, who stood behind the throne. "The sheaths."

A moment's hesitation from both slave and bodyguard. Then the latter unlaced the leather sheaths upon his wrist and passed them quickly to Korsch, who in turn re-laced them over the Czar's arms. All was done in expectant silence, as Gulzar and Lut and all the city waited for his answer.

The sheaths affixed, the Czar rose and looked to the Avarathi Mayor, on the higher podium to the left. He paced the length of the Emperor's circle towards him. Ruler to ruler, their stares were locked. How long had the crown of Zirako and the coinpurse of Avarath played these games? Between them was the specter of wholesale slaughter, of imperial troops running rampant through the streets and putting merchants to the sword. Lukesh knew it; Gulzar knew it. A wall of commerce... a line of revenue.... was all that kept the Czar's blade from plunging into Gulzar.

A stalemate, now as ever.

The stare held a moment longer, then the Czar moved swiftly to one side. In a fluid motion he placed one hand on either arm of Seiyr's chair, leaning close, face-to-face. And in the mingling breaths he waited. The arena watched. For a moment there was only his eyes, and then Seiyr looked down to see his hand outstretched, expectantly.

She passed the report scroll to him.

He opened it upon her chest, flattening parchment to her curves. And there he read, quickly, intently. For a moment he considered. For a moment he calculated.

Then he let the scroll fold up again, uncovering her body. His gaze lingered. Then went back to her face. He pressed the scroll back into her hand.

There was a roar, savage and regal. His lion Aux reared up upon the podium railing, its head tipped back, its body rippling with gold and indigo. The charge of magic was electric. In two straight bounds the lion crossed to the Czar and folded into his flesh. The Advent was triggered. And in a deafening boom, the voice of the Burning Czar shook the coliseum.

"You of all people should know, Lut Sar, how long I have lived. The tedium that threatens all Nocturnes."

He moved from Seiyr, past his bodyguards, down the steps through the hermetic circle, the merchant gallery, the peasant stalls. Each descent caused ripples in the crowd, a scurrying to bow heads and make way. He stepped over the prone forms of Colonel Da'Haka and Minister Nahal.

"We have seen Drakens rage in their thousands." His glance flicked to K'Jol. "And swordsmen die in their millions." He looked to Takeda as he limped for the infirmary.

"But few and far between are rare delights."

The sand of the battle floor danced to his voice. Vibrations threw each grain to concentric circles. He arrived there, his retinue in tow, and crossed into the sunlight.

"Our agonies are broken by invention. And history is turned by fools."

K'Jol stood to one side, giving space between Lut and the Czar. But Lukesh instead circled. Stepping over the body of the Gladiator Baren, he hauled up Amalia by one arm. Pulling the healer to her feet, he slung her alongside the cloaked form of Lut. The pair stood side-by-side, silent as the voice of the Burning Czar assailed their senses.

"A general is needed, to conquer lands far stranger than deserts. Who should I look to in these times, if not the stranger?" He stood before the two, his back to K'Jol, and studied the tablet in Lut's hands. His face betrayed nothing, and it was a moment before he spoke again. "I will now ask you both a question. Answer clearly. Answer truly."

His Advent faded. His arms swept. With a ringing chime of metal two blades deployed from his wrist sheaths. He plunged the daggers into Lut and Amalia, tearing flesh, shedding blood, grazing bone and puncturing muscle. They cried out. The crowd shuddered.

And the Czar's voice spoke softly. "A report has reached me, from the Ipari wastelands of Dorgrad. Sand nomads are dying, their bodies found half-eaten and savaged. Rumours speak of insects from the depths. No doubt a hive has been disturbed by our mining operations. The wastelands border the Deep Sands. If we are to find the Divine Weapon, I will need this hive cleared out first."

He leant in, twisting the blades that Lut and Amalia were impaled on. He studied their quivering faces, felt their stuttering breaths. Their shoulders had been skewered, and they fought to stay upright, to answer him clearly.

"How will my new general deal with this threat?"

 
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Takeda watched as the Czar tortured his student and the want to be warrior, and flinched as the Czar dug his blades further into Lut's body. He had to stop himself from saving the poor boy, because he knew that Lut's life, as well as his own, would have been taken. "Foolish boy." Takeda stared at Lut with disdain. "I would gladly teach the fool a lesson if the Czar allowed it." he whispered. He shifted his gaze to the healer "It's the women from earlier..... a healer playing warrior admirable, but stupid none the less." Takeda turned his nose up at her. Takeda returned his eyes to the Czar and gave him a look that said "I will kill my student for this out burst if you wish it my lord."
 
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She watched in horror and fascination as Lut roared about the location of a divine weapon. Surely the fool realized that such ramblings would get him executed? Anything divine or celestial mentioned under the Czar's nose or his cronies meant death.

... And yet.

The crowd and Amalia waited with baited breath for the Czar to say something and when he did, as Amalia's brain digested what the man was saying, she was appalled. This divine weapon actually existed?

"What madness is this?" she uttered from her place on the ground.

But it seemed to be true. Something had to be true. This couldn't be right.

Her eyes never left Lukesh as he circled between the combatants, her stare full of suspicion. His words bore into her, but she was trying to decipher something. The truth was ever elusive. But when he moved towards her and grabbed her arm, she averted her gaze. The shame from earlier was still there and she didn't want to him to know her identity, as futile as her attempt was to conceal it.

She knew Lut was standing next to her without looking, she could feel it. Was he telling the truth? Was this some sick fabrication?

Amalia heard metal slide upon metal, prompting her chest to constrict painfully. Was he going to kill one of them to decide who was general? Was that how her life was going to end, at the end of the Czar's sword?

"I will now ask you both a question. Answer clearly. Answer truly."

She looked up then, puzzlement clouding her face.

The dagger that ripped into her flesh burned white hot, leaving Amalia gasping. An ordinary man or woman would have tried to get the weapon out of their flesh, but not her. She endured. Pain was not new, just agonizing. The Czar's words barely registered in her addled brain, but Amalia knew this was a test. She hissed as her blood stained her sarong, struggled to look up at the Czar. When she met his gaze, her eyes blazed as fiercely as the sun above them.

I need the truth. The truth about you, our nation, the gods. Everything.

"How will my new general deal with this threat?"

Matil yowled audibly from behind Amalia. The sand cat leaped up and joined with the healer, disappearing into Amalia's body. She had no words to answer his question; the pain was far too unbearable. Yet she had a statement.

Amalia exhaled, and a translucent sphere exploded from her body, throwing those within twenty feet of her tumbling into the sands. She heard the audience's muffled gasp of surprise, heard the guards lifting their weapons. Despite the danger, Amalia felt strangely calm inside her barrier. The sand swirled and settled, like snow from a snowglobe. The explosion dislodged her shawl, revealing a pretty face marred with anger and pain. Her hand clasped the hilt of the dagger and pulled. Droplets of blood fell to the sand and disappeared. She let the weapon fall to the ground with a muffled thud.

Matil materialized in front of Amalia, the sphere dissipating.

"I want the truth Czar Lukesh and I won't stop until I find it."
 
He lay in mist. Pungent, gold and silver - a vapour that encompassed him. Within it, his own world, just he and his moment of surprise.

The bodyguards had recovered first and rushed in, dropping in phalanx around the Czar's prone form. Beside them, Aukhmos the lion stood still and watched Amalia intently. Crossbows and spears were poised at the perimeter of her shield, a steel ring to prevent further attack. And in the sand to either side, K'Jol and Lut were sitting up and shaking sand from their limbs.

The crowd was silent. So many flavours of breath-held anticipation they had sampled this day. But none greater than this. The Czar had fallen, and echoes would stir.

Lukesh lay on his back, looking up at the sun, his turban silks cast off. Between the shoulders of his bodyguards he propped himself on one elbow and looked back at Amalia.

His other bandaged hand moved down between his legs. He squeezed. He checked. He smiled. "You still missed my balls."

The Czar's gaze craned back, over his shoulder, glancing up at Gulzar. The Avarathi mayor had served up Lut Sar on a plate with a trinket in tow. What was a Desert Sun to think of that? If Emperors could be bought by merchants, what hope was there for the Red Nation?

Fuck you, Gulzar.

"People of Kaustir!" He shouted now with his own voice, unadulterated and sand-choked. "I GIVE YOU THE FIRST GENERAL OF THE IMPERIAL GUARD!"

Now the silence was utter - a vacuum, an abyss. Lut Sar and K'Jol rose either side of Lukesh and stood in disbelief. The bodyguards glanced. The nobles murmured.

But the crowd... the crowd was won.

They did not know her name. The uproar was wordless, a rising din of applause and cries. Elation rippled around the coliseum and sent the peasants from their seats, a standing ovation punctuated by whoops and Aux shrieks. And through it all the Czar made note of each expression passing through Amalia.

From their encounter in the throne room, up to this very moment, it had been in motion. One had cast down the other, and now the debt was repaid. In this was proclaimed the spirit of Kaustir - that all men and women are free to stand and prove themselves. Sure, they would mock her as a woman and a daughter of the healing arts. But they would hail her as a symbol - as living proof that all may try.

That all must try.

Lukesh clapped his bandaged hands together, and felt the shadow of General Korsch pass over him.
 
The blades drove through the chain mail, stabbing roughly into the flesh. The Czar was different, tested daily. He knew how to stab a person; Lut had nearly forgotten how to. He was no stranger to pain, yet it had been a very long time since he had tasted battle. The knife sent hot waves through his shoulder, and although he did not move, his head dipped deeply, mask almost parallel to the sand, breathing ragged.

The Sun asked his question. Rote answers filled his mind - "seal the mines ... smoke them dull with Sahil herbs ... pour quicksand into their nest ... " but he was interrupted, thrown away from the woman who had seemed certain to die just moments ago. He gathered himself, giving the formless black cloak shape, yanking the dagger from his shoulder, and staring straight ahead at the pair.

The Czar, his Czar, the people's Czar, made his choice ...

~​

No one could see the smile behind the mask. He turned towards K'Jol.

"My comrade," and his voice was the most alive it had ever been in memory, "I am not lying. It is my job to acquire, to arm our soldiers in the field. To do business with me," the mask swiveled to regard the mayor, "is to do business with the people of Kaustir."

He looked at the healer, the eye sockets nearly glowing with anticipation, burning, analyzing, questioning, dissecting. "Do you not agree, comrade, that this is the most exciting thing to happen to our people? What a contrast to our Czar, the one who sheds Light upon us all, this woman is! The Czar was necessary for our people to survive and prosper after the Cataclysm. But the next leader must lead our people towards gentler times. Happier times. When we acquire the Aged One's relic, we must use it properly."

"Everything for Kaustir." His last words cryptic, he moved forward to join them, standing behind the Czar, clapping, and threw the Sand Rapier at her feet, a sign of deference.
 


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K'Jol was in shock from the blast that blew him into the sands. He shook his head before promptly coughing, getting sand out of his mouth while looking around at the commotion. What in the he'll had just happened to him? Pieces of the event that occurred not too long ago came into his mind. Amalia had used her Aux to send all of those around her flying after herself and Lut Sar were stabbed by the Czar. To his left he saw the cloaked warrior who he was just thinking about. He listened to the voice of the Czar, announcing that the new General of Kaustir had been chosen. The Draken glared at Amalia before snarling. The title of General shod have been his alone. He should have been the one that the people were cheering for. Fury and anger entered his being, but the emotions were subsided at the sound of Lut's voice. The Nocturne was answering the question that the Draken had asked before. Lut went on to say that he was not lying, that it was his job to arm the soldiers and that what he did was for the people of Kaustir. K'Jol thought he was finishes, but Lut continued, saying that the situation was the most exciting thing to happen to those within Kaustir. The next words hit him hard. He said that the Czar was responsible for helping them through the beginning of the Cataclysm, but they needed a new leader who would lead them to gentler times. Lut then ended his sentence with everything for Kaustir before heading to the back of the Czar, clapping. K'Jol stayed in the sand, thinking over his past actions. He was so filled with lust for power and clouded by greed that he didn't think of the thing that mattered most - Kaustir. He lived everyday to protect those within the desert, and being General was not the only way that he could assist. K'Jol then stood up before walking next to Lut. Rather than clapping, he unsheathed his halberd from his back before slamming it into the ground next to him. It was his way of acknowledging Amalia as his new general.

"It PAINS me to say so, but congratulations..."

 
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Tharwa

Tharwa closed her eyes, senses swimming in the afterglow of Lut's blood-taking. The experience was better than any ill advised dalliance she ever had, even better than the finest drink from Draegar's wares (which was really saying something, since Draegal can brew a mean Kresnik). She now understood why some people would whore themselves to nocturnes as meals on legs.

She leaned over the balcony, but the shapes beneath were just confusing blurs. She gently pulled the pigtails of one of the street urchins perched on the railings.

"What's happening, little one?"
She murmured, offering a copper button.

The button disappeared beneath the urchin's clothes, and after a deep breath, she narrated the events Tharwa had missed in a sweet, lilting voice.

"To wrap it all up, divine weapons are hidden somewhere in the Deep Sands and we have a new General. It's the pretty court healer standing beside the Czar, in case you do not ken. Oh, and my friend Matti here swore he heard the Czar say something about sand nomads being massacred and eaten by insects, but then, I'm not exactly sold if his Aux can really allow him to hear for miles, or if he's just a stinking liar. "

An apple-cheeked boy stuck his tongue out at the urchin. "I don't care. I still think the Czar made a mistake in choosing his General. A healer who doesn't know where the business end of a spear is? Fat lot that would serve us when we're being attacked by giant scorpions."

"She doesn't need to know, stupid. Now that she's General, she can just command soldiers to stick enemies with the pointy end! Yaaa!"
The urchin lunged at the boy, and soon the two young'uns were engaged in a playful battle using discarded sticks littered on the ground.

Something cold touched Tharwa's spine as she looked down the tableau of Lut and Kjol laying down their weapons at Amalia's feet. The new General looked like a gossamer flower surrounded by vultures. She was glad that a nocturne was not chosen as the Czar's right hand, but she hoped that this court healer is up to whatever task Kaustir would soon require of her.
 
There must have been a mistake. Or maybe a joke was being played. A very big, loud joke.

Amalia fell to her knees at the announcement, ears ringing from the crowd before her. The pain was no longer a worry as her awe struck stare swept over the audience. They were cheering for her - Amalia Lortik - a woman who couldn't even hold a spear properly.

That thought made her uneasy.

She looked at the rapier thrown upon her feet then up at Lut. He seemed genuinely happy for her but K'jol... Oh she wouldn't forget the words he spat at her. Even as he too dropped his weapon in reverence for her, Amalia wouldn't let her guard slide around him, not ever.

The woman steadied her gaze upon the Czar. Her mind was giddy with winning the games, but reasoning was settling in. Questions rose within her like a tidal wave. Why would he want a general who couldn't fight? Did he realize how much would have to be done for her to win over the people's confidence? They might cheer now but a general who didn't know how to use a weapon was useless in battle.

Then again, she should have realized this when she signed up for the games. Her training would have to begin immediately.

She stared at him the longest, then looked at the crowd, face pensive. Amalia knew immediately that she would always have trouble speaking in front of an audience. As her frustration with the Czar and her bravery ebbed away, what replaced it was a flood of anxiety and trepidation. All eyes were upon her once more.

Amalia raised her chin, trying to make an imposing figure.

"How soon may I leave for this expedition?"
 

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Nassad watched in astonishment as Amalia was chosen. A feeling rose in him, like a fire being ignited. How could someone like her leader an army? Was the Czar drunk from blood? Nassad breathed heavily, he was going insane. This woman would not be able to lead and army of such stature and might! A war was being fought in his subconscious about what he should do. Words could be offered, but if he were to give any sign of rebellion then he might be killed himself. The idea of gaining power was twisted and turned into a new idea, an idea of a transformed kingdom under him. Lukesh's new general would be his stepping stone to power. He may have been hated, but maybe there was another way to make the people of Kaustir his. Nassad stepped forward from the podium and began clapping. He would gather an army behind him, K'jol would be his and he would have the people. The idea of finding power through his first plan was never going to work. His new plan would black out The Desert Sun....
 
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The Czar rose up, straightening amid his circle of bodyguards. The crowd was in tumult. Horns and fireworks were sounding in the streets. He spoke between the shoulders of Lut and K'Jol as they gave their blessing.

"Tomorrow, of course. We have Kreshnik to drink."

He called over one shoulder, to the shadows where the gladiator tunnels ran beneath the coliseum. "TAKEDA!"

The guardsman came forward in salute. The bodies of Baren and Jofolia lay between them, bleeding out from precision wounds. This fact was not lost on the Czar, and his eyes indicated them as he spoke. "These cuts betray you, East Man. You've been playing mentor."

His bodyguards tensed. Was an order of execution coming?

Lukesh nodded. "You are assigned to General...." He paused, looked back at the kneeling healer, who only returned his blankness. Then Lut spared them both by confirming her name. "You are assigned to General Amalia for this expedition. Adjutant, First Class. Make sure her arm is repaired and capable of killing."



* * * * *​



Word travelled fast in Avarath.

Faster still when an Ipari soldier arrived on the back of a wagon and killed a man in the street.

Delesia's question to Nils went unanswered as the opium lounge was disturbed. Four men, in black-scale armour of the Imperial Guard, came stepping between the whores and hookah circles. Some cleared their tables around the two mercenaries, expecting bloodbath or interrogation. But the soldiers had their weapons sheathed.

The streets beyond them were rife with celebration. Fireworks proclaimed the election of the new First General. Urchins and maids ran back and forth as the feasting halls were opened. Yet there was nothing of elation to the armed quartet. Their faces spelled only business.

"Nils Maupin."

The eldest one, a sergeant who had seen too many wars, nodded to the Ipari. There was respect there, and when a moment's confirmation had passed, there was a smile.

"The Czar wants a word."



* * * * *



Night was falling over Avarath. The black rocks of East Hill poured out noxious ash to blanket the sun, while bats shot back and forth in search of locusts. Feasting had begun, and bards now sung the exploits of the day. Along the docks the ships were moored and lowly slaves made circuits of the arena, raking sand across the blood and entrails.

In the penthouse of the summer palace, Czar Lukesh surveyed his map. On the forty foot hide of a Gulgesh Worm, the borders and settlements of Kaustir had been inked and pinned to the wall. The limits of his empire, indisputable. Beyond them vague and undetailed stretches showed his enemy. So little had been learned of the Green and Blue Nations, their secrets trapped behind ice and foliage. As the morning's training had proclaimed, it was folly to fight a foe in their own territory. But such trifles could be avoided.

He would burn the forests. He would melt the ice. He would lay down stone and metal and paint the world in Kaustir's image. A war so very industrial. First remake the battlefield; then crush the enemy. He would finish what the Old Gods could n--

There was a clink. His new servant, Korsch, had brought in a fresh bottle of Kreshnik. The Czar came out of his reverie and crossed to the decanter. Beneath him, in the grand halls of the palace, the ministers and nobles could be heard at feast. It was a steady hum of celebration, cut by crashes as the occasional officer brawled or cannon fired. Even in revels blood would be spilled. It was the Kaustir way.

Lukesh knocked back a shot and felt the warmth blossom through his head.

And on the table, beside the glasses, Seiyr's report scroll lay unfurled.

 
The dancing, the drinking, the raucous manner that everyone conducted themselves in sent Amalia's head spinning. Shots of Kresnick were given to her, which she downed to the best of her ability. She wasn't a heavy drinker, but she could hold down her liquor. At least she hoped.

Throughout the party she received a flood of visitors, many who gave her well wishes and gifts. The well wishers she thanked with all the grace her drunken mind could muster, but the gifts made her uncomfortable. She didn't want to be bought, and yet it felt like with each gift that piled up in her quarters, she owed someone a favor. It was deeply unsettling and she wanted nothing more than to duck away and hide.

During the height of the party, when several chairs and noses were broken and passed out drunkards lay haphazardly on the floor, Amalia fled. (She blamed it on the wound she suffered during the game, and the stress of the day made her exhausted.)

She wanted to hide in her quarters but the thought of seeing all of these gifts made her pale. Instead she retreated to the palace gardens. The lush foliage, made possible by the water nearby the city, was a sight Amalia rarely got to see and she took solace in this. The sound of trickling water, the boats returning from their day of fishing, the distance buzz of talking and laughter - it was soothing.

She found a secluded spot on a bench surrounded by bushes and hoped she would at last get some peace and quiet.
 
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Takeda bowed to the Czar "As you wish Desert Sun." relief was laced in his words. He walked over to the trembling healer and addressed her with the utmost respect "Ma'am we will start your training in the morning I request that you please come to the military barracks just outside of the coliseum." He saluted. Amalia nodded but said nothing. Takeda gave her quick reassuring smile then turned to leave. He stopped in front of Lut and with out looking at him whispered "Foolish boy you're lucky it wasn't your head that the Czar drove his blade into." Takeda proceeded to exit the coliseum. He couldn't help but chuckle "What do you see in this court healer my lord? No military training, can't use a weapon, and trembles at the very thought of battle. You wish me to train her and train her I will, just be prepared if she is not the same women you once knew."

..........................................
Takeda knocked back a few shots of Kresnick with a small group of imperial guards that there invited to the newly ranked general's party. "Ahhhhh!" gasped as he downed his third shot slamming the glass on the table in front of him "That's good stuff!" he proclaimed. It was rare that Takeda drank, but tonight was an acceptation. He was about to pour his fourth when he spied Amalia slipping away from the party "A bit overwhelmed are we?" he whispered. The samurai got up and tailed Amalia only to find her in the gardens. He came out of the shadows and bowed to his superior "Are you alright general?" it felt strange to say.
 
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Draegal was a little bit lost, okay he was completely lost. After the fiasco at the arena He had decided he was going to try and find Lukesh and his new general and present them with one of his finer drinks, a bottle of Kresnick that was at least 90% pure alcohol, and yet it was so smooth going down that it left the drinker feeling as if they had the desert sun in their belly. But as it turns out, even though he was wearing his good clothes, not everyone could get into Lukesh's palace through the front gate. So clearly the next best option was to sneak in, and after a few bribes, a few close calls and a rather short free fall, Draegal found himself lost in the palace gardens.

He was about to give up trying to find his way out, when he saw someone enter the gardens. As he went to go greet them, he realized that it was Kaustir's new general "Hello, Amalia" and before she could respond to him another man appeared, this man was the one from the arena "and hello gladiator, I believe you owe me fifteen suns. But now is not the time for that, today is a day for celebration, a day for congratualtions, and a day for drinking. Although you two don't seem like heavy drinkers." He chuckled.

Without consulting them he pulled out a cask of blood wine, a crimson drink that was usually a nocturne specialty, but he had managed to brew a version that tasted less like blood and more like a sweet and tangy honey flavored wine, that had enough alcohol in it to get anyone just a little bit tipsy, but keep you from getting the slightest bit drunk. He then pulled out 3 clay cups and proceeded to pour them all a cup.
 
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The smell of sweat,food and celebration wafted within the tavern.
"PFFFT-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I thought that draken would bite her head off then and there." Gwendolyn laughed as he wiped tears of joy from his eyes.
"More importantly boss, Dead nomads and a weapon from the gods themselves." A slightly inebriated man eating roasted meat beside him pondered.

"Sounds like a job... A big one." Gwendolyn stood up, taking a bottle of kresnick from the table.

"Nessa!" Gwendolyn called, a loosely dressed woman from the shadows appeared and curtsied.

"Send a letter to the mayor and our OTHER patrons. Tell them that "The Unbroken" would be willing to lend a hand for the times ahead... Oh and send a letter to the new general that we would be glad to serve as auxiliaries...for a price of course."

"Through their minds, Master?" Nessa tilted her head in wonder.

"No! Honey that would be rude, weird and invasive.Give it to them tonight."

"Their MINDS? HAHA. The weirdos you pick up boss." The inebriated man interjected.

"Kashim, Gather "The Unbroken" we have a job to do. I want all of them in our hall by tomorrow. Both of you go!" Gwendolyn ordered.

Kashim and Nessa went out of their separate ways. Gwendolyn walked out of the tavern, unfurled his wings from his cape then flew towards the top of the nearest tower where he sat and stretched.

*POP* he uncorked a bottle of Kresnick.

"Will the little bud wilt from the flames of the desert sun, Eaten by an animal or will be allowed to grow and bloom into a fierce desert flower?" Gwendolyn mused while eying the Palace.

"We'll see." As he drank straight from the bottle.
 
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Just when she thought all was peaceful and quiet, company had found her. Amalia groaned as she straightened her back and prepared for another battle of polite conversation. Surely these were another group of well wishers who wanted to congratulate her and take a peek at their new general. Well Amalia would certainly do her best to look as beautiful as she could, but holding a conversation was going to be tricky. The shots from earlier was making her head swim and her vision blurry.

"Wait. You're familiar." She blinked groggily at the soldier who limped away from battle. "Ta... Tak... Tanaka? Is that your name? I'm sorry I've met so many faces today that names are escaping me."

Good, she was still able to control her tongue. Her memory unfortunately wasn't operating on quite the same level.

"I am perfectly alright. Absolutely."

She turned to the other newcomer, a face she definitely did not recognize. Amalia stood and bowed, uneasy on her feet.

"You've heard of me. I'm flattered. May I ask who you are?" She reached to accept his drink, missed, and tried again, almost sighing with relief when her fingers wrapped around the glass. "You've come prepared. I like that. Quite a lot." In went the shot.

"Aaaaaaaaah smooth. I like it. What is this? Oh please tell me what it is. It's lovely."

The general's cheeks were flushed, her smile easy. Perhaps Amalia wasn't as tolerant of spirits as she thought.
 
Delesia Tyiral



She only could let out an unsatisfied sigh as the four armoured figures busted into the lounge, disturbing a thick smoke of opium and scattering all the hookers. "Insolent..." She growled lightly as they approached to the table. At once, every suspicious face abandoned the room, suddenly having a better things to do. Recognising them as a part of Czar's Imperial Guard, she smirked. "Well you don't see this every day now." Delesia raised up her head lightly to face them, not moving and inch and speaking with a calm and cold tone.

"Gentleman, you just scared away my potential meal for the day." She referred to all of the hookers, smiling lightly. "To what do we owe this pleasure?" Here calm expression didn't cease even when they referred to Nils, ignoring her. What he possibly did to get Czar's attention was beyond her though she always had her assumptions, but their behaving pattern was more or less predictable.

Rubbing her neck in a tired manner, she referred to Nils.
"My my partner, I never get any peace with you around. You would make even a corpse feel alive I believe." She laughed and leaned back, spreading her arms across the wide seat and closing her eyes. Whatever they had to do they better do it quickly. A pair of wild wolf eyes observed her from shadow waiting for a sign, but she remained perfectly still.
 
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