Legend of Renalta 2: Reborn

[Chrononaut]

Detective Minstrol and the Case of The Missing Crown
A Chrononaut and Brovo Collab​

During the event nobles had filtered in, yarped and passive aggressively chided each other on matters of state most commoners simply could not understand or care much about. Drinks had been exchanged, poison tasted for, and much to many's surprise no one even convulsed. It was almost as if and this was a stretch, some here had come as allies. Which made most of the affair rather dull.

Somewhere above the processions, handshaking, and what seemed to be a plague of bickering intrigue, sat an elven woman whittling a flute with a poorly crafted carving knife. It was more a piece of sharpened metal slag than blade; it warped the flutes shape into something less of a flute and closer to a warped prism. This woman, Minstrol, had paid attention to some of the diplomatics. Some. She found the interests of pomped frocks and what seemed to be an actual prostitute Drow that had somehow harlotted her way into power far less interesting than some of the veritable treasure trove of art that littered the halls and indeed, this throne room.

Kouri's face seemed to lord over the Kings, Lords, Vassals, and otherwise. The artist had taken great pains to angle the eyes in such a way they followed everyone in the room. This certainly made Minstrol nervous, she'd restrained the natural urge to knick a ring from Princess Helénē. She'd guessed its value at somewhere in the range of as much gold as she could carry.


One thing that actually attracted her attention was the Drow's impressively slutty entrance. She'd heard a thing or two about the dwarves apparent theft of a crown. Now, she had her suspicions that dwarves had a hoard of taken treasure. Stolen? Far less likely. Minstrol had never heard of a dwarf that could enter a room without loudly announcing himself, his clan, and his nation. The childlike roar of Stonelover, she could hear from the balcony and almost certainly from the outer walls, seemed to push more towards dwarves being Gods awful thieves.

She also wagered that solving the squabbles of these primped up bookwatchers might actually be within her duties as a Blade. She was new to this 'responsibility' thing and reminded herself there could be a monetary award. From the Drow, Dwarves would rather hand over their mothers ashes over a gold coin. They might ask for another gold coin in order to cover the cost of the ashes.

Mistrol made her way to the ground floor, avoiding much contact with the guards. They made her feel...guilty? Not that she had done anything wrong yet, she just wasn't used to the idea of being near lawmen when she herself was a criminal by trade. She caught some attention walking into the throne room, more for the fact she rarely left uniform since joining the Blades. It looked shady, maybe something an assassin would wear with its tight leather and masked cowl. She felt far more comfortable in her identity as a thief than as a woman so this gave her some confidence in grabbing a glass of the hearty Gryff's Galliancy, swigging a mouthful, and sauntering over to Rocklover.

She greeted him with a curt, "So I 'eard you stole a crown?"

The Dwarven Champion, Duncan of the Rocklover Clan, sat happily at the banquet seat, stuffing his face with great amusement between a chicken leg and wine. Where most were planning their requests and sharing resources, he was simply waiting for something it seemed. He turns with a snort and stares at the elf, grease was rolling down his bottom lip to his beard. For a moment, he simply stares with a dumbfounded look: Someone had been stupid enough to accuse a world leader of theft, to their face. This was a genuine first for him.

The next moment, a half-eaten chicken leg smacks Minstrol square in the forehead, having been thrown by Duncan as he buckles over with laughter, spilling a glass of wine onto the floor. "'Yer a funny lass I'll give ye that, but iffin' yer thinkin' we o' the Rocklovers'd tolerate petty thievery 'midst our watch, then yer overestimatin' yer large ears and wee little brain there, elf!" Hopping off his bench, he stares up at the elf, his bemused expression showing that he took no ill word of the accusation, although it was better not pressed. "Now what can I really do fer ya kiddo?"

Minstrol wiped chicken gristle off her forehead, breathing slowly with eyes closed in utter concentration on not accusing the dwarf of being inbred. She took a banquet chair, spun it around and sat in it backwards, using the back as a place to rest her elbows. She set her drink on the table. "Well, I came here to talk to a fellow cove about how, exactly, a crown disappeared in the middle of two armies and both knew none whereabout it might be. You ain't sounding to be one, so." She opened one palm out, "On one hand, a story of a dwarf stealing something would be worthy of a song or two. Least a drunken remembrance." She opened her other palm. "On the other, we both know Drow are basically deception incarnate. You got a take on this?"

"If the Drow took it, they'd know about it." Duncan was obviously drunk, but alcohol didn't affect dwarves as much as it did others. "'sides, we'd know that they'd know!" Pouring himself another glass of liquor, he stares at the elf. "Speak bluntly, I wasn' called Rocklover 'fer my subtlety woman!"

Minstrol ruminated on this for a moment. She thought of the terrifying abyss of the underdark, its subterranean crystals and horrid things that waited in the dark. She thought of just how easy it would be for the Mindflayers to simply take the crown and flee through some tight crevice in the earth. Her eyes narrowed. "Did anyone think that the braincutters might 'ave, and I'm speaking on the ale here, just left the temple with the crown during the attack?"

"Bahahahaha!" Duncan buckles over once again, laughing hard enough that little bits of spit fly from his mouth onto the ground. "Mindflayers ain' interested n' pissin' in the Drow's kettle! They're cowards who like small targets, not entire nations! If'n they got t' the crown, they'd've destroyed it lass! I din' think they can even use it."

Minstrol brought a hand to her forehead in agitation. "So who do you think pilfered it, then?" She took a swig of Gryff to dull the pain. Setting it down with emphasis, she continued, "Couldnabeen the Drow is it? They'd be good at it I thinklike. Bang their fool brain-box on a Crown if they could."

"Nahhh." Duncan waves that possibility off as he takes another swig. For a moment, he seemed to have a serious look in his eyes as he glanced at the Valsharess. She looks back, causing him to divert his attention to another chicken leg, which he gleefully grabs and starts eating. "If I knew I'dda kill'd it m'self... I don' know how you elves work but we Dwarves have corporations! Corporations can have thousands of Dwarves in them!" He leans back on his chair throws his arms out for emphasis. "Any'un of them might 'ave... An' if I discovered that, to the eyes of some, we'd all be damned. Yah get it, right?" He takes another swig of his drink. "An' we can' afford that... So I don' ask." He leans in and looks at Minstrol with narrowed eyes. "'Specially folk that 'cuse others at face value, yah?"

Minstrol beamed widely, "That reminds me! Was going to have a chit chat with that Valsharess. I'll be back!" She lifted herself from the chair and kicked it back to the table swiftly. She looked back to see Stonelovers reaction, hoping it was at least mortified. She approached the Valsharess with some tension as that woman was a stone cold, horrifying entity which ought as well be eldritch.

Then, she thought, maybe, just maybe she shouldn't go at the person the dwarf specifically said not to approach. Maybe she should, I don't know, ask someone who actually knew something about politics how to deal with this. She turned right around and tried to find Kouri in as swift a manner as possible.

Duncan didn't have much of a reaction beyond shaking his head and returning to his chicken leg.

Kouri was speaking with Alex when Minstrol showed up, causing her to stop and look at the Queen's Blade with a small smile. "Ah, one of the new recruits." Alex nods to Kouri and steps aside, moving to do other tasks so the two could be left to speak. "What is it, Minstrol?" She asks softly.

Minstrol placed her palms together, bringing them against her face, and breathed deeply. She released them and said "Tryin' to figure out who knicked the damn Crown!" she takes a backward glare at Stonelover, "Figured he did it or one of his cronies, so I asked. He says no and iff'n they did, they'd be more fucked than a free hold slave girl. So I figured I'd ask the Valmarrresssssss? Valtarress?" she rolls each Valsharress on her tongue. "Valporress? Anyhow, if she did it. Rattled it about in my knocker, decided not to go hard like I did with Stonelover. That's my entire game though, you see? I don't know how to do a snap with palliads with words."

Kouri quirks an eyebrow at the use of slang, but continues smiling nonetheless. "You're lucky my wife is an ex-pirate. I understand what you just said, the Valsharess wouldn't. She is..." Glancing at the Drow Queen, who was keeping her distance from most of the others, Kouri shakes her head. "A blue blood. Born into nobility, raised in nobility. Unlike myself, she has no experience with commoners. If you were to accuse her of theft, were this anywhere else, she would put you to death." Looking back to Minstrol, Kouri sighs. "You can't go accusing people of theft and expect them to be receptive. People don't react well to being called thieves, and you won't likely get an answer out of people here... What you can do, if it interests you so, is try to befriend these people and do them favours... Favours are currency among blue bloods, as their word is everything. If you do them a favour, you can call on that later... Say, when you've gathered evidence for the crime?" Kouri's smile fades. "Then again, this may be a crime best left unsolved, Minstrol."

 

[Jorick]

Diplomatic Union Meeting - Zin And Alida Collab​

Zin felt almost at home in the large room full of people. It was a nostalgic feeling, a remembrance of many evenings spent at large social functions in Liveria many years past. She had never really enjoyed most of those events at the time, as she recalled, but it seemed time had a way of smoothing out the rough edges of memories. In fact, despite nearly two decades of living a very different and rather humble life, Zin felt far more comfortable among the prominent and powerful of the world than she ever had among the lesser group of the upper crust of Liveran society. There she had worked hard to stay out of the center of attention, with plain dresses and quiet talk, but here... Zin had decided to go undisguised tonight, so her silver eyes proclaimed her a vampire for all to see. She had chosen a silver dress with a plunging neckline and a slit in the skirt that went almost to her hip, and the appreciative looks she had noticed so far were quite thrilling. She had even felt so confident that she left her heavy cloak and concealing robe, her typical anti-sunlight wear, in the care of the castle staff; normally she would have carried them with her at all times, but tonight she felt rather confident and daring, so she decided to forgo carrying her safe and easy escape gear.

After the parties from all the nations, and even one from the strange faction from the Blood Sea, had arrived, Zin noticed some of her fellow Queen's Blades taking the opportunity to talk to them. She spotted Draza speaking to Templar Taigyn, and that gave her an idea. She'd been somewhat concerned about Rheinfeld after her quick departure from the meeting, because a question came to mind on the ride back: what would happen after the Papacy was dealt with? It would be horrible for the Templars and the Republic to go back to war after their common foe was removed, a waste of lives and resources and the work they had put into forging the peace in the first place. Zin figured that she might be able to plant some seeds for future peace, so she went seeking Alida.

It didn't take her long to find the woman, despite the number of people in the large room, because there weren't a ton of dark skinned women wearing dresses present. Zin approached and gave Alida a brief curtsey, a show of respect but not subservience, and had a friendly smile on her face. "Alida, I'm glad to see you here. If you're not too busy, I wonder if I could have a few moments to speak to you about Rheinfeld's future?"

Alida had been speaking quite comfortable with Emperor Xixis when Zin arrived. Xixis grinned as he looked between the two of them, then turned and left Zin to talk to the Rheinfelder. Alida blinked with confusion, not understanding Xixis' amusement as she turns to face the vampire eye to eye. A little surprise hits her, but otherwise, she seems pleased to see her again. "Rheinfeld's future?... Ah, I suppose this was inevitable." With a deep breath, she motions for her and Zin to take a few extra steps away from Taigyn. "Let's speak."

Zin took the goblin's grin for simple jocularity and gave Xixis a smile of her own. When Alida led her away from the Templar leader, she followed along without comment, understanding the move completely. She also said nothing about the woman's surprise and pretended not to notice it, for she could only assume was due to the silver eyes and what they meant, and there was no need to get bogged down in that mire at the moment. When she spoke, Zin kept her voice somewhat quiet in order to keep the conversation somewhat private. "Inevitable, yes. It's never too soon to consider what comes after the fight is over. Truthfully, I am worried about what will happen. " She glanced meaningfully toward Taigyn. "He seems a good man, an idealist of sorts, but I don't know that he will be able to change things enough before the Papacy falls. I am curious as to what you intend to do should that day come without an amicable agreement on the future leadership of Rheinfeld in place."


"Debate." Alida replies with a roll of her eyes. Shaking her head, she chuckles to herself. "My apologies, I suppose that wasn't very dignitary-like, was it." Pausing, she notices a small cut in her dress. It wasn't a particularly expensive dress, nonetheless, a look of irritation struck her face. "Rats. Ah. Hm." It was clear to Zin that the Republican wasn't comfortable with the topic of the future. "We will fight, if we have to..." Looking at Taigyn with a look of disappointment, her eyes then fall toward the floor. "We would likely lose, but we would try."

Zin gave her a brief smile. "Perhaps not very dignitary-like, but then I'm not much of a dignitary myself, so I don't mind." She ignored the cut in Alida's dress, as calling further attention to it wouldn't be polite. After taking a moment to choose her words, Zin continued tentatively. "I don't think anyone would be pleased to see it come to fighting. However, there may be an option that lies between aristocratic rule and republican ideals, should neither triumph solely. It is not unheard of for the military to take over power at the end of a conflict, to place their own leader into the seat of power." Zin hesitated, then went on with more confidence than she truly felt. "Such an arrangement could be of mutual benefit to two groups that would otherwise fall to blows. Perhaps if one could find a leader who both commands respect and cares for the common man, and who could then firmly pave the path toward a more... equitable future for all parties." Her silver eyes flicked over in the Templar leader's direction once more, just in case her meaning had not been absolutely clear.

"The military is just the aristocracy with weapons in my country." Her eyes followed Zin's original path, stopping upon Taigyn. He seemed concerned about something, but it wasn't anything she could deal with in that moment. "As I said before. We will not dispose of one tyrant just to replace him with another, no matter how well meaning." Still, there was no hard feelings as she looked back to Zin with a smile. "Sorry. It is just the way we are."

"I see." Zin sighed. "I suppose it would be far too much to expect a country to change overnight, after all. Hopefully everything will go smoothly and this will end up being so much idle chatter." She put on a smile and shrugged a shoulder. "For what it's worth, I hope you get your way in the end. Sorry for interrupting your night with such serious talk."

"Ah, don't worry about it Zin, it's just... This isn't an issue that will be resolved in a single night. Not unless the Templar Order concedes power... Which we both know, it won't." Alida straightens out her dress, obviously being more comfortable in a suit of armour than in a suit of politics. "Though I do hope for what it's worth that it will not come to blows when all is said and done. I would very much like to be with you on the battlefield against the Nine Hells, when all of this is over."

Zin's smile became a bit strained at the mention of being on a battlefield. "If it comes to that, I hope you are there as well. I would very much like for there to be no need for a battlefield at all. Call me a blind optimist if you will, but I hope to find some less bloody way to seal the demons away." She glanced down at Alida's dress, and her smile regained its vigor and turned a bit impish. "I think I prefer you in a dress, all things considered. When it's all over, I hope you'll have ample opportunity to get used to them."

"I hope not. I prefer the singing of an arrow to that of a shrill boy in a chapel, but dresses are a small price to pay for peace." She bows her head respectfully. "It was nice speaking with you again, Zin."

Zin laughed briefly at the response, then returned the gesture. "And you as well, Alida. I wish you the best of luck until we meet again." She walked away from the little talk feeling less than reassured, but there was no helping that. Zin could only hope that things would turn out alright in the future, or that she would have a chance to help steer things in the right direction.

 

[Firemind]

Andrea Llolth'Allin and Abjaar 'Bastille' Korsair - Alliances of the Moment

---
​

She watched the stranger, a new addition to the ranks of the Blades it seems, walk away from the Valsharess. He was dressed in fine clothes, or at least what these surfaces seemed to call fine clothes, no spidersilk anywhere to be seen except with a number of the Drow retinue of course. She narrowed her eyes at the man, he seemed at ease in the clothes but it also looked like he was used to wearing something much heavier: armour perhaps? As he passed her she spoke up, softly but loud enough for him to hear. "You are either confident or foolish, or maybe a combination of the two." Was all she said, for now as she sipped from a goblet of wine, staring over the rim of the cup at the man.

Abjaar had not been expecting to make any allies in the Queen's Blades. He had been greeted with cold stares and barely contained hatred thus far, so it was to his great surprise when Andrea's words rolled into his ear. He looked over at the second Drow woman he'd spoken to in as many minutes, a brief smile flickering across his face. "It is rare that confidence and foolishness are not hand-in-hand. Perhaps you can confirm which of the two plagues me more by sharing a drink with me?" He lets his smile blossom into a full grin as he brings the mug of ale to his lips, gulping down a very shallow mouthful with as much exaggeration as he could muster. He was in no rush to inebriate himself. "My name is Abjaar Korsair, one of the newest Queen's Blades. May I have the pleasure of your name, as well as the company?"

She gestured around as if to say that she was not going anywhere if he decided to stay near her. "Andrea Llolth'Allin, priestess of Llolth and also a member of the Queens Blades." She lazily shrugged and took another sip, draining her now empty goblet, "If you wish to share a drink with me then you would not mind to pour me some wine?" She just smirked upon saying that.

Abjaar smirks, before reaching out and taking the woman's goblet. "It would be a pleasure, Andrea Llolth'Allin." He turns his back to her and retreats towards the nearest place that he might procure a goblet of wine. Without a second thought, he snatches up the entire bottle and brings it back with him. Soon enough, he is back at the Drow's side, a full goblet in one handed, extended to her, and a three-quarters full bottle of wine in the other. "So tell me, why would a priestess of anything serve directly under the very queens who I can only assume banished your god? I am interested in what motivates such a beautiful and, apparently very important, member of the Drow to come to the surface: it is such a rare pleasure, after all." He smirked as he drained the last of his mug of beer, before he began to top it up with wine.

She just smiled, taking the goblet and lowered it, keeping it at waist level. Nothing happened at first but then a shape slithered around her waist, uncoiling itself as the snakehead of her whip raised itself up, letting its head hover over the goblet and hissed softly. After that it returned to her waist, seemingly satisfied and Andrea brought the goblet to her lips to drink from it. Swallowing the wine down before she answered him, "To think that one person, or several, can banish the gods is laughable to me, perhaps their presence is diminished but they still exist and are no less worthy of faith... and my people... are very faithful. As to why I am here, because I was asked to. Things are happening on the surface so it makes sense to have representatives of our kind... in a position close to one of the powers of the surface to observe." She then snorted, "The Dwarves are apparently not that smart or wise because it seems they did not even consider to do something like that." What she said was no secret, many probably suspected it. "So my tale of becoming a part of the Queens Blades is a boring one, what brings one such as you to this service? Besides apparently having a attraction to powerful Drow women?"

Abjaar looks on in interest as the snake head uncoiled itself from the hip of the Drow, examining the drink, as if it was preparing to taste the wine. He quickly realised that the woman was testing for poison, and he nodded with a sense of approval. Abjaar politely listened as she described her faith in her goddess, and as she slandered the Dwarves. He was unaware that the Dwarven-folk had not sent a representative.

It was when she asked about him that he found himself unable to stifle a loud, hearty chuckle. "If it makes you feel any better, I am just attracted to powerful women. I wouldn't care if you were human, drow or werebeast. It is also why I am here: I require power, and there is no better place in the land to position myself to acquire power than here. Amongst this organisation, I hope to find training, and allies, and anything else that will empower me…assuming I don't get stabbed in the back by one of the very many 'righteous' folk in this organisation."

She chuckled, apparently amused by his words as she gave him a bit of a feral smile. "My dear, if you wish to accumulate power, you will at some point be stabbed in the back. That is the risk we all take in the game of power and influence. It depends mostly as to what purpose power is gathered." She said distractedly as if saying that reminded her of something but she quickly adjusted and took another sip from the goblet.

"No need to worry, Priestess Andrea Llolth'Allin, I am already accustomed to being stabbed in the back." He smirks, before sipping his own mug of wine, caring little for the conventions of drinking that he'd broken. "I seek power for reasons that many would stand against. I know that a great many people who would parade themselves as heroes and champions of honour and glory would put me to the sword without so much as a single conversation."

He pauses for a moment, smirk falling off of his face as he contemplates memories of the past. "I also know that most of them would not have acted any differently, were our positions switched." He sighs, draining another half of the mug before refilling it. "Since you will no doubt here the rumours soon enough, I am a slaver by trade: from the Free Holds. I was once a Slaver-lord, but that time is past. If I have my way, I may once again wear the mantle of lord: hopefully outside of that damnable desert."

She appeared confused for a moment and then chuckled. "Ah yes, I had gathered that the view on slavery... in this part of the surface world is rather odd. Especially since they practice it themselves just under a different name." She shrugged. "But then most of the surface is strange to me still, but you wish to acquire power to... regain some of your former glory and status? Valuable things to aspire to, joining the service of the Renaltan Queens was something rather desirable then, considering the number of powerful rulers of the various nations both above and below the surface."

She paused, "From your words you seem to think that the other Queens Blades will think less of you due to your background." She smirked, "Perhaps we have that in common since they see me and think of my kind and draw their conclusions from there."

Abjaar nods at the woman, raising his mug to her. "That is something to drink to: Common allies who share common grounds." He offered the Drow woman a toast, surprised by the sudden urge to make an alliance. He had not expected to meet anyone with like mind, nor did he require one for his plans…It just appealed to his baser human instincts: To seek a certain degree of companionship and trust that could only be sated by the acquisition of people who didn't want to stab him in the face as soon as he entered a room.

She reached out touched his mug with her goblet with a grin. "To alliances of the moment." She replied in response to his toast. She took a drink and licker her lips, grinning as she walked past him, tracing her fingertips over his hand and wrist. "I enjoyed this conversation but I believe I should... 'mingle' I believe the word is, perhaps we will meet and talk again in the near future. Time will tell."

Abjaar nods, letting her pass without moving or disturbing her flow. It would be a poor move to stand in front of her, especially with the careful way she had crafted her phrase. "To alliances of the moment, indeed. It would be a pleasure to share company or conversation with you, Priestess Andrea. Perhaps next time, you might tell me of the world below: I would be fascinated to hear your accounts first hand. In return, I would be honoured to answer any questions you have of my homeland."

She just smiled, her eyes looking Abjaar over. "As I said, time will tell. I wish you a... productive time at this gathering." And with that she walked away.

Abjaar smiled, watching her walk away and taking in her form with an unashamed enjoyment of the view. "It already has been."

 

[Jorick]

Diplomatic Union Meeting - Kasim And Princess Helénē Collab​

Kasim leaned casually against a wall as he watched the representatives of the varied nations of the world make their entrances. There hadn't been a lot of time to prepare for the event, but he had managed well enough. Rather than his usual garb of plain, heavy cloth with simple leathers on top, Kasim had dressed to impress with elegant simplicity, or at least that had been the goal. He wore black trousers and a white shirt with full length sleeves and nothing in the way of ruffles or embroidery, though both were quite a bit tighter than many would considered decent, leaving very little of his musculature and... assets to the imagination. His boots and belt were brand new, black leather from a well respected establishment that charged far too much for its wares. He wore a single piece of jewelry: a golden ring on the third finger of his left hand, engraved with odd lines that made him think of angels; perhaps that was just because Kasim knew he'd pulled it from an angel's corpse, but he liked to think the ring was possessed of some divine nature. Unlike some of the other Queen's Blades he saw throughout the room, Kasim bore no weapons at all, for they would have clashed with his wardrobe. The idea was for women to see him as a dashing hero, not a mindless warrior, so his bow and short sword had been left behind for the evening.

As for women, there were so very many possibilities to choose from this evening. To make his life easier, for there was only so much time of the day to work with, Kasim decided to discount his fellow Queen's Blades, all of the Renaltan women, and the various unimportant women from abroad from his considerations. There would be time enough to play with any of them some other day, but to have a brief liaison with one of the most powerful women from another country, ah... That was an opportunity to be cherished. Kasim watched them arrive from his spot near the back of the room, where he had a good view of the space in front of the thrones, and weighed his chances and their various obvious pros and cons.

The Imperium's empress didn't seem the type to welcome any such advances, and he had no interest in necrophilia for the moment. Alida of the Rheinfeld Republic was quite fetching in a dress, and he figured she'd be less standoffish in private, so she went on to his mental list of possibilities. The Liverian princess, Helénē, drew his eyes as the lone sheep draws the wolf: she was beautiful, delicate, apparently vulnerable due to an injury, and reputedly naive to the ways of the world; in other words, she had all the appearance of being fruit ripe for the plucking, though she'd likely require a heap of flattery and a lot of coaxing. Kasim rejected the woman from the Free Holds out of hand, for she was a slaver and even he had standards. The drow woman was another intriguing prospect: pursuing her would be more a game of vying for control rather than a hunter and prey scenario, and he had a feeling that she would win in the end; that was not exactly a terrifying prospect to him, for he'd spent more than one lovely evening in a submissive role before. The Tulerian king's wife was easy on the eyes, but Kasim had gotten into troubles with angry husbands before, and he figured a spurned king would be able to do a lot more than scream at him and chase him out. The Amazonian queen's tastes appeared to lean toward women, so he put her on the bottom of the list of potentials, because while he was confident that he could woo any woman toward heterosexuality, it would probably take more work than he could manage in this one night. There were others who hadn't made such formal entrances yet managed to catch Kasim's eye, but none of them interested him for the moment: Archangel Myria probably wouldn't like his boasts about having recently killed an angel; Sarah Darkhammer was rejected on the same grounds as the Eternal Empress, for necrophilia required a particular set of mind; Archmage Amanda seemed far too dignified to respond well to his approaches. After everyone had arrived and Kasim considered his options, he made his way over to the obvious choice and turned on the charm.

Kasim slipped into a seat beside Princess Helénē at the banquet table, sitting sideways facing toward her, elbow resting on the table. He had considered his approach and discarded the heavy flirting and innuendo he usually went for. She was a princess after all, and rumored to be far more interested in the wide world than most Liverians, so he had decided on a more charming and manipulative approach. "You know, I've seen a lot in my days, talked to plenty of people, but I can't say I've ever had the honor of speaking to a real princess before. The tales do your beauty no justice, Princess Helénē, and I have heard so very many tales. Ah, forgive my forwardness and rudeness in not introducing myself first, I am Kasim Amibilus of the Queen's Blades. It is a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess."

Helénē was face first in a book, reading through various pages about a fairy tale when Kasim sat beside her. Looking over at him, she blushes mildly and returns to her book, though it was obvious she wasn't reading as she listened to him introduce himself. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Kasim." Her tone was entirely formal as she takes a deep breath and sighs calmly before placing her book down on the table to continue reading, as her arm was growing sore from holding it up to her face. Silence passed between them before it was apparent that she hadn't much else to say to him: Liverian stoicism, shyness, or irritation? It wasn't easy to tell.

Kasim was mildly annoyed at needing to carry the whole conversation himself, but he shrugged it off as a byproduct of a shy maiden being not entirely comfortable around men. He gave her his best grin, the charming boyish one that ladies had called endearing more than once. "Kind of you to say so." He glanced down at her arm in the sling. Odds were that she'd just fallen and hurt herself, but Kasim figured it wouldn't hurt to seem impressed. "That looks like it could be an injury with a story behind it. Are you one of those warrior princesses I've heard about? I'd heard they were an Amazonian thing, not Liverian, but maybe the campfire tales didn't have all the details."

The princess quietly marks the page she is on in her book by folding one of the corners of the page, then closes the book gently. Turning to face Kasim, there was an almost tired look to her eyes. This was a topic she had likely gone over many times with her caretakers. "Two ribs and this arm were broken when I possessed the body of an imp to attack an incubus from behind. This bought sufficient time for a Queen's Blade to slay it, but not before it grasped me, squeezed until it heard the life escape my lungs, and threw me off a cliff." Looking Kasim over, it was plain to his sharp eyes that she was attracted to him, but apprehensive for reasons he couldn't quite discern.

Kasim didn't have to fake being impressed now. His eyebrows rose slowly as she gave the brief explanation, and he couldn't help his mouth falling open just a bit at the end of it. "Wow." After a moment of staring at her, he shook his head slowly and his grin returned. Going by her long-suffering manner in the telling, the princess was probably quite tired of people worrying over her well being and acting as if she had made some kind of mistake; Kasim was happy to provide a differing point of view. "I guess I hit the nail square then, calling you a warrior princess. That's an injury to be proud of. Any wound taken when doing the right thing and being a hero should be worn like a badge of honor." Having noted her attraction, Kasim decided to test the waters a bit further, and test out what he figured might be the cause of her apprehension. "Look at you, beautiful and brave. I must admit that I find myself intrigued. It's a shame I'm so terribly lowborn that in normal circumstances I probably wouldn't be allowed within a stone's throw of you, else I'd be sorely tempted to court you and woo you."

A shy giggle escapes Helénē as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Still, the compliments had been appreciated, and though Kasim's intent was clear enough, she didn't seem entirely against the thought. "It's not entirely unheard of for commoners of great standing to ascend from nothing to royalty, Kasim... So it's not that far fetched." Yet, as she looked at him, apprehension was plain in her eyes. "However, it should be known that such attempts at my hand, or at the hand of any royalty, are not won in a night, and not only by words." The message was clear: He could try to woo her, and compete for her hand, but it would not be a short process, nor an easy one.

Despite his initial intent, Kasim found himself intrigued. Helénē had seemed like an easy target, but she'd proven to be more observant and strong of will than he had expected. Truth be told, he liked the chase just as much as the payoff. He'd already entertained notions of wooing Queen Kouri herself, but, as the saying went, one shouldn't put all their eggs in a single basket. "Ah, you wound me. My dear princess, I had no such thought in my head. Your words cut like knives." Kasim flashed her a wide grin, marking his melodramatic nonsense for what it was. "I've always been ambitious though, and I think I might just have to take this as a challenge. A man born into slavery and freed by violent revolution, by all measures a man as common as dirt, rising to become a hero worthy of a princess' hand in marriage... It would make for a lovely story, certainly." He savored the thought for a moment, already half convinced that it was a great idea, then looked to Helénē with a brow cocked in an exaggerated questioning expression, though it may have been somewhat ruined by the smile he couldn't hold back. "But you say words alone are not enough. Please, tell me what deed might please you, what act might set me above what is certain to be a legion of other suitors. You need only name it, and I will make it my sole mission in life."

The Princess of Liveria clears her throat, closing her eyes in thought for a moment with a smile. It seemed uncommon for people to ask her what it is she wanted of them. Finally, she speaks with a clear, almost authoritarian tone. "Kasim Amibilus, if you wish for my hand, then you must defeat this threat upon our doorstep, and impress upon me values that would benefit both the Kingdom of Liveria, and any future children that might be a result of your courtship." She covers her mouth with a giggle, and adds in a less formal tone, "to translate, that means make me happy, safe, and give me a reason why you could rule my kingdom properly."

Kasim stared at her silently for a long moment, then spoke in a quiet and contemplative tone. "You know, I was expecting something lighthearted and joking for the sake of amusement, like fetching you some drink or delicacy to earn a similarly pointless statement of favor. You've surprised me again." This wasn't going at all how Kasim had originally planned, and yet... Helénē was actually treating him seriously, as if she thought he might truly have the potential to be worthy of something more than a quick fling. It was jarring. Sex was just a harmless amusement as far as he was concerned, but marriage, especially for a political figure, was serious business. Against all rational thought, here was a princess giving him the time of day on the subject. Kasim was not a man given to introspection, but now he couldn't help wondering if he actually had it within himself to be a great man, not just sound like one due to stories and tall tales.

"Alright." He surprised himself with the word, but he kept on talking without letting his mind get in the way too much, hoping he wouldn't say anything utterly foolish. "I can't promise results, of course, but I figure it's worth a shot. If I fail, I'll either be dead or end up being a better man than I am now. If I succeed..." Kasim gave her a lopsided smile. "Well, I'll admit now that I had less than noble intentions when I decided to come talk to you. You caught my eye, and I figure you've already guessed what I was after, but now you've caught my interest. I could think of thousands of fates worse than ending up at your side, Princess Helénē, but few better." He pushed away from the banquet table and stood up, then turned and bowed toward her with a rather exaggerated flourish made with his right hand. "So I said it, so it shall be. My sole motivation in life will now be to prove myself worthy of you." As Kasim stood straight again, he grinned. "I hope you enjoy overly dramatic gestures like that, otherwise it's going to be real awkward for you when I keep making them in the future."

Princess Helénē blushes vividly, but the corners of her lip tilt upward as she beams at his words. "I wish you luck, Kasim. I hope to speak with you again soon."

Kasim gave her one last grin, quite pleased by her reaction. "Thank you, my dear princess. I'll be counting the hours." He bowed again, this one quicker and less fancy, before turning round and leaving her to return to her reading.

 

[Jorick]

Kasim Introspective​

Kasim strolled through the halls of the castle without paying much attention to his surroundings. His mind was elsewhere; more specifically, it was stuck in the recent past, going over and over his conversation with Princess Helénē. Though he had maintained the smooth and charming exterior for the duration, his mind had been racing about rather frantically during the last bits of it. For some strange reason he felt awkward and embarrassed about the whole thing. It wasn't that he'd made a fool of himself; far from it, in fact, as he was certain that he had made a marvelously positive impression on the princess. If she'd been less reserved and proper, Kasim was pretty sure he'd be doing something rather more interesting than walking around the castle at that moment. Some of those remarks and compliments had been so damned smooth that he had even surprised himself, especially that one about ending up with Princess Helénē being one of the best fates he could imagine.

No, it wasn't the embarrassment of making oneself look like a fool. It was more... potent than that sort of everyday shame. Kasim had once talked to an old man, a farmer who'd come into the city of Tuleria to sell some crops, after he'd been left looking shocked and dazed by some lordly fellow coming by and purchasing all his wares at a generous price. The farmer had looked so oddly shocked and ashamed that Kasim hadn't been able to help asking what the problem was, for on the face of it the man should have been elated. He hadn't understood it at the time, but the old farmer has explained it with a single glum sentence: "You never really know how bad you've got it until someone shoves your face in the dirt with kindness."

Now Kasim felt he could understand it. He'd never seen himself as a degenerate, a criminal, or any sort of bad person. In Kasim's own mind he was a charming rogue, certainly no knight in shining armor, but definitely a good guy who did the right thing. Princess Helénē's kindness, her willingness to actually give him a chance to prove his worth, had made him reevaluate himself. Just as the farmer had realized he was nothing but a dirt poor commoner, Kasim was hesitantly circling his own realization of a darker kind. He was a male whore, although unlike women of the profession he came out on the other end without even a few coins to show for the effort. He was selfish, looking to his own wants and needs with a total disregard for others, even going so far as harming others for his own benefit. He was a criminal, no doubt about that one, a thief of goods and gold and thoughts and lives, all for personal gain. It had been easy to look at all of that in a dim way, to say that he just looked out for himself like everyone else did, but then the Liverian princess had come along and shone a bright light into the seedier parts of Kasim's mind. She was prudent, kind, and put the needs of her people at least on the same level as her own, if not above them. She was everything Kasim pretended to be with his talk of heroism and greatness.

The air suddenly became chillier, and Kasim realized he'd wandered into some kind of garden. He sat on a nearby bench and rested his elbows on his knees, letting his head and hands hand down toward the ground as the temporarily dislodged cart of his thoughts slipped back into the same ruts. Kasim the Angel Slayer, hero on the rise. Hah. He brought his hands together and fiddled with the angel's ring, twisting it around on his finger absentmindedly. Why was he so proud of that feat? Because it was an act of great skill and proved that Kasim was a strong man who could destroy powerful villains. Because he could brag about it and see the awe in the listener's eyes. But why would a real hero care about that selfish nonsense? A real hero would be proud of it because he had saved lives by vanquishing a threat. Kasim wasn't truly a hero, he just aspired to wear the clothes of a hero, to get the exterior benefits without being truly worthy of them. It was a painful thing to admit, even inside his own head.

And now he had gone a step further and set his sights on the wardrobe of a fucking king. A great hero was supposed to do good deeds on a fairly small scale, maybe rescuing a town now and then or doing fine things in a war, but that was nothing compared to a great king. They were supposed to do the right thing an entire nation, and their actions could have a heavy impact on the rest of the world. Kasim realized that this was the true core of his odd feeling of shame. His talk of making a bid for Princess Helénē's hand was essentially an indirect way of saying that he was worthy of becoming a king. That was a joke, and not a very good one. King Kasim, the self-centered criminal slut, ruler of Liveria. Hah.

But... perhaps it didn't have to be that way. Though it sounded like just another excuse, even in his own mind, Kasim figured he could trace his problems back to his early life. He'd been a slave, used for sex and material gain. It wasn't all too surprising that he'd gone on to pursue those aims himself, since they were all he really knew after he became a free man. Oh, he'd fought in Xixis' army to help free others, and he hated slavers, but that was because of personal grievances rather than truly caring about others in slavery. Kasim figured it was a lucky thing he'd been regaled with tales of heroism and glory around the campfire, since they'd provided a general guide that at least kept him on a path near the borders of good and evil rather than taking a road straight through the latter. He could have very easily become some kind of bandit, raping and pillaging alongside a band of other scummy villains, and he probably would have been able to justify that just as well as he justified his actual awful behavior. Only that naive notion of heroism had really kept him from such a life. It was rather frightening to realize what a simple lack of introspection could lead to.

Kasim would have frozen in his tracks had he been walking, but since he was sitting a mental equivalent took place without the benefit of a physical accompaniment. He'd never had cause to use the word 'epiphany' before, but he was in the midst of one and he wasn't the type to squander the opportunity. It was no earth-shaking epiphany, but it certainly rattled things round inside his head: his problem was a lack of introspection. He went through life just pursuing some base desires: sex, food, drink, gold, and glory. He never really stopped to think deeper than was required to make plans about how to acquire one of those things. What did he truly want out of life, in the long run? Kasim had only one ready answer: to be renowned as a hero. It seemed rather pathetic. He felt that there ought to be something more to life than just being remembered after you were dead. After all, would it be worth it to go through a life of pain and misery just to leave behind a legacy? Was a few years of shallow pleasure followed by an early grave a fair price for one's name to go down in history? The obvious answer was no. So what in the nine hells was Kasim actually doing with his life, and what should he really be doing instead?

There was no easy answer to that, and it wouldn't be at all surprising if it took a lot of mental work to come up with a good one. Kasim took some solace in the fact that he at least had one foot on the path to an answer. There was a saying he'd heard a few times that felt apt: the first step to solving a problem is realizing that it exists. He'd realized that a problem existed within himself, so now it was just a matter of trying to fix it. For the short term, however, Kasim felt he needed some guideposts for how to behave so as not to undermine his fledgling efforts at self improvement. He considered trying to live true to heroism, but that would probably just lead him back into the ruts of his bad habits. Instead, he decided to take some inspiration from the source of his new found introspection: Princess Helénē and his own over the top vow to become a man worthy of her hand. The guideposts for his actions would be two simple questions: would Helénē approve of this, and is this an action worthy of a true king? He did not know the princess very well yet, and his notion of what a real king should be would probably make a lot of people roll their eyes, but Kasim figured they would work anyway for the time being. It would be better to muddle through trying to improve himself than to wallow in the same old habits while trying to figure out what he truly wanted out of life. He'd never move forward if he didn't start doing it now, and going along with his promise to Helénē seemed a good place to start.

Kasim stood and nodded to himself, feeling... not exactly pleased, but not at all displeased with his new decision. He felt determined. That strange embarrassment was gone: rather than sitting in his own puddle of pity as that old farmer had done, he'd make himself shine as brightly as the light that had cast such dark shadows on his mind. He headed back into the castle with a smile on his face, looking forward to putting his own resolve to the test. Kasim had always liked a challenge, after all.​

 

[Firemind]

Abjaar 'Bastille' Korsair & Warlords Tina and Rashad - A Free Debate​

As the evening continued on, and as Abjaar continued to move around the meeting halls, he knew that at some point, he would have to confront the people of his homeland. While conversation with the two Drow women had been of incredible value to him on a personal level, he needed to find out information of his home land. There would be no one better to ask than Rashad, even if the thought of announcing himself so openly was a daunting one.

Abjaar held no illusions that his existence was unknown to the man: The Warlords were often enough kept informed on people of interest, and the last son of the Korsair line was someone that might be of interest. Yet for the years he roamed around as Bastille, and not as Abjaar, he had been relatively safe. He had rarely been targeted by assassins, and none of any true skill. The new lord of Chainhold had not seen fit to crush him, which was good. However, would Rashad see Abjaar's return as a threat to a potential ally? How fond was the man of the new lord of Chainhold?

Abjaar sighed, before gulping down a mouthful of liquid courage. The wine tasted good, and he poured the last of the bottle into his mug, before setting it down on a nearby table. With a clear head and a resolve of wine-drenched iron, Abjaar approached Rashad and Tina. "Hail, Warlords of the Free holds. I, Abjaar Korsair, request a meeting with the venerated lords amongst men."

"Korsair?" Rashad said with scepticism and amusement as he poured himself a glass of wine. He looked somewhat uncomfortable in a guardsman outfit as he sipped his wine. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time." Tina smiled, though it was a smile full of daggers, as she looked him over. "I don't know the name myself." Rashad shrugged. "It would be a name irrelevant to you, Tina. Before your time as anyone of any merit. Still, you request a meeting, no?" He motions around at the room full of important people. "We are here. Go on."

Abjaar smiles at the relatively nonchalant reaction of the warlords. It was good to know that he wasn't going to be met with drawn swords or with death threats. "I simply wanted to make a formal announcement of my place amongst the Queen's Blades. It seems only respectful to inform the lords of the Free Holds of a man they might be able to one day consider a champion."

Abjaar takes a swig of the wine from his flagon, before turning to the two warlords. "I must admit, your declaration of peace surprised me. Do all of the Warlords truly believe in this peace? I know that Chainhold in particular made immense profit from the slave trade, a trade that will be hit heavily with the signing of a peace treaty."

"They know better." Tina states abruptly as she crosses her arms and looks at him. "Not a particularly smart man, is he." Tina says with a smirk, only for Rashad to chuckle. "The slave trade does not slow merely because we make peace." Nearby, Sarah Darkhammer emerged from the shadows, and kept watching them. Rashad noticed, motioning with his eyes to Abjaar that someone was watching them. "So! You seek political intriuge, do you not? Then know that the Warlord of Chainhold is old and feeble... Many rumour that he has no heir, no second in command. Many position themselves there to take power... But nothing is certain." He offers the bottle of wine. "Another round?"

Abjaar notes the disdain of the woman, as well as the approach of Sarah Darkhammer. It was not in his nature to take insults to heart, but he cared little for being insulted in front of so many important people. It was like this Tina was challenging him. "I am smart enough to know that there are some warlords who are too foolish to listen to the winds of change in pursuit of profit. Just as I know there are some Warlords who make themselves profit only by clinging onto the coat tails of wiser men."

He smiles as Rashad offers him a refill, but shakes his head. "I am fine, honourable Warlord. I have enough for now, and I don't know where that wine has been. It seems I have made many enemies in the Queen's Blades before I so much as open my mouth. The Free Holds are not popular, these days, but that is little in the grand scheme of things. Let them hate me, for I have other reasons for approaching you this day. Tell me: are the rumours I hear true? Are you attempting to unite all of the Warlords onto a council? I can see a great deal of profit that might come from such an undertaking. It is something I would gladly support, were I a Warlord."

Rashad shrugs as he pulls the wine bottle back, refilling his own glass and then putting it on a table. He smells it and the sips it, smiling. "Such rumours are hardly untrue, though no warlord would sign his allegiance to a single power." Tina remained silent, though it was the seething kind of silence that implied that Abjaar had not won himself a friend. "Tina here is a ruler of the neighbouring Saylihold." Rashad states plainly as she gives a false smile. One could almost mistake her fangs for daggers, glinting dimly. "If you hope to secure yourself a position with praise, you just sucked up to the wrong person." Rashad raises his glass of wine and tips it back to his lips, swigging the rest of it. "Oh, and if a man offers you a bottle of wine he is drinking from, it is not poisoned."

Abjaar shrugs, taking in the silence with a nonchalant expression on his face. He never knew how best to approach the Warlords of the Free Holds. Such a prickly and diverse bunch, it was no surprise that they so often had shorter life expectancies than other rulers. "I did not manage to survive through the many things I have survived through by trusting that a drink is not poisoned merely because someone offers it to me. For all I know, you could be giving me a poisoned drink, all the while holding the antidote in your cheek. It was a favoured tactic of my father, after all."

Taking a sip of his wine, noticing the low level of the mug, Abjaar decided to drop some of the façade of the polite man. "If my words do not reach you, my actions will have to. I seek strength, and I seek power. We both know that the Free Holds runs on profit, so let us talk how an alliance with me can be profitable. In the Queen's Blades, you have few-to-no voices that might openly fight your cause, and a great many that would profit from seeing it topple to the ground. There are a number of former slaves in the Queen's Blades who would use their voice as heroes to disavow you, and to paint you as villains as dangerous and evil as the Demons of the Seven hells."

Abjaar puts his cup down at a table, turning to Tina. "I am a man of pride, so I shall apologise for lashing out at you, Warlord, but I implore you both to see that I can be a great asset to you both. We would trade in the currency of favour and promise: If the opportunity arises, I shall reclaim Chainhold. I would do so with your blessing and, if the need arises, your combined might. In return, I shall be a voice that supports your unifying voice, an arm at your side, and a man in the Queen's Blades who can keep the tide of malice away from the Free Holds."

Abjaar reaches for the cup, and drains the final dregs of it, before slamming it down again on the table. "What say you then, Rashad and Tina, warlords of the Free Holds? Will you let this man prove himself to you, so that the entire Free Holds may prosper? There is little risk in this enterprise for you, after all."

There was momentary silence before Tina bursts out into manic laughter, falling backward onto the floor and wrapping her arms around her gut. Rashad chuckles and finishes off the wine in his glass before making a show of his power by telekinetically lowering it gently to the table. "Little risk... Aside from betraying the Warlord of Chainhold who willingly put forth support for my council, so that I can put into power the son of a long dead man who is so paranoid that he refuses to share in idle drink with me." Sarah Darkhammer fades back into the shadows, having seen what she desired to see. Rashad had a concerned look, though he remained smiling nonetheless. "So. Explain to me the profit in idly topling a regime friendly to my cause, when it shall topple itself over in less than a year's time? If you wish to make your bid for power then, be one of the many vultures. Otherwise... The Queen of Renalta is not foolish enough to act against me so long as this threat is present. That is all that matters."

Abjaar shakes his head. "And what happens when the threat is gone? When there is a new batch of heroes, none of whom represent the Free Holds you currently profit from and looking for a new cause? What happens when Chainhold is held by a vulture and an opportunist that you don't know? One whose agenda might not align itself so neatly with yours? What if that power turns to the demons? Tell me then, if the Queen of Renalta would so willingly sit by and do nothing? Since when did the tides of profit sit so much on uncontrolled chance? It seems I have much to learn about profit, because when I attempt to take care of business, I attempt to control every possible variable. If you and your fellow Warlord would leave it to chance that the next Warlord of Chainhold won't doom us all, then say so, and I'll wash my hands of the bid. Otherwise, give me something: Even if it is nothing more than recognition of my claim."

"You have no claim to recognize." Rashad stated plainly. It seemed apparent he had no desire to explain his domestic plans to someone he did know. Tina finally recovers from laughter, getting back up onto her feet and shaking her head as she walked away.

"Then there is nothing more to say. Good day, Warlord Rashad. When you do fall from grace, I hope it is a gentle one." Abjaar turns from Rashad, scooping up his cup with a single powerful scoop. As he walks away from Rashad, he notices himself clenching the pewter mug, and he feels the indentation of his fingers morphing the shape of the cup.

 

[Atlas Child]

Aslo and Mars
Just before the Diplomatic Union
​

Aslo's return trip to the capital was largely uneventful. He had rejected any format of celebration of their victory because true victory would not have cost them nearly as many lives. Despite some of those lost lives being more of a hindrance than help. No his return thus far had consisted mostly of quiet meditation, and finding some semblance of peace in the ever increasingly chaotic world.

It was for that exact reason that he had found himself in the gardens then before the meeting. A last chance to relax before facing what was sure to be yet another joyous encounter with the figure heads of various nations. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention once more to the plants, it amused him to see some species of flora here, knowing too well what lethal qualities some could have when prepared properly, but the royal gardeners could be forgiven for not specializing in the poisons used half a world away.

It was also here that Aslo would find yet another cohort, and this one looking quite unglued at that. He motioned in from the man's side in an attempt to throw him off balance, as he drew nearer and his presence more likely to be known he broke his silence with a simple "Mars, is it?" and wait to see how he'd respond.

The voice called out next to him and caught him off guard. Mars turned to look on the newcomer with a quick twist of the neck, but he didn't bother to stand. He replied in affirmation, "and you are..." he wasn't good with names, but he remembered the man was a queens blade as well. The face was familiar and the man carried himself in a manner that fit the bill.

Aslo sat down beside the man and extended his hand out to shake. "... Aslo, no cause to worry though I mostly prefer that people don't remember my name anyway." he said with a smile on his face. "What brings you to the gardens?"

Mar's shook the offered hand, "Alcohol mostly," he replied and followed with a moment of brief silence. Mars took another drink of ale, and when the mug was empty he laid it next to Thailen's grave. Idly he asked, "Do you think it's real? An invasion by the nine hells and demons here to destroy the world?"

Aslo slowly nodded as Mars spoke. He cocked an eyebrow at the question though. He wondered why Mars doubted it at all by now. He shrugged staring off ahead. "We met some lovely spirits on our outing speaking the same sentiment , what's left of Tuleria may speak for their existence as well, and of course the recently banished gods are a sign that these things are real and out there."

"It's just a curious thing," Mars began his eyes watching the gentle flow of the fountains water, "The imperium is under threat, the amazons are under threat, Renalta is under threat. I think the queens world is under threat, but to me the world is much bigger then a handful of kingdoms. We could probably sail to the far reaches of the globe and leave this all behind us. If she is right however, then how could she ever hope to save the world when she can only fight for a small part of it."

Chewing his lip lightly Aslo looked to Mars "Aye, it's true that our world, and indeed, our very lives are in constant threat. Running from that may prove beneficial for at least a short tie, but your sights would always be over your own shoulder. Evils like these rarely rest while there is more to grasp. It will seek to consume all corners of this world, and you'll have to face it then." he said as he played with small twig between his fingers. "No, personally I like my odds to face it before it acquires a strong foothold. To face it on our terms while we are strongest." throwing the twig to the ground he leans back. "But maybe that's just me."

Mars shrugged, "Maybe the gravity of it just hasn't hit me yet, but I can appreciate your logic. Since I've been here I've heard other blades talk about their reasoning. It's always: 'It's the right thing to do, it's just, or it's my calling. A queen tells them they're needed for the greater good and they show up with the utmost devotion, with so little knowledge of what they are fighting against or who they are swearing their swords to. People like that..." Mars laughed softly and shook his head in disbelief, "make this feel like a cult."

"But your answer," Mars shook a pointed finger at Aslo, "I can appreciate your answer... but the alcohol may be getting to me."

Aslo smiled, knowing all too well who he had agreed to follow under, and chuckled along as Mars spoke. "As it gets to us all eventually. Not to worry you but should this all end up being a cult I would say you're all too eager to drink from the leader's chalice and test the pork for poison." he shook his head slightly as he dusted off his pants and got to his feet. "But come, stand, we should at least try to make an appearance at the Diplomatic Union. We can speak as we walk." he said as he offered help up.

"It would probably be good to get some food," Mars replied and happily took the offered hand; he wasn't drunk but standing was difficult.

"Food, not to mention a good helping of diplomatic relations with important diplomats, and won't that be wonderful?" he said as he slowly began walking towards the hall.

"I'm sure it'll give me a headache." The slow pace was welcomed but as they continued on Mars began to doubt if he should go at all. A tipsy queen's blade at a diplomatic summit didn't seem the best idea, but in the end he decided that if he was expected to go at all, buzzed was the only way he could possibly go. Aslo sounded as eager as Mars felt and Mars pitied him for being sober during the Union. The queens were sparring no expense for security, shame they had not done the same all along.

"I'm assuming you heard about James' attack, and the deaths?"

He looked down to the ground as Mars asked "Of course I've heard of the attack, and I'm sure that Moriarty will be met with precisely what he deserves. Your group was paired with Mikan on your last outing though correct? I wonder what her reaction was when she heard the news."

Mars frowned, "We were paired but I wasn't around. I prefer not having seen her reaction. I wonder how she is now."

"In such tragedy it sometimes helps to draw support from those around you." he shrugged as they kept walking. "But I suppose that may be more of a personal belief."

"Mikan has a kingdom grieving for her."

"So then let's be there for when she's finished grieving." he said simply.

Walking through the halls of the castle their footsteps reverberating softly from the hard stone walls. It all took on a much more somber tone. In reality there was no poetic or eloquent way to describe death. They walked in silence for a moment until Mars broke with a simple view, "Life is a bitch."

Life was a bitch. Aslo nodded, finding they had reached the Union."Yes. it most certainly is, and it doesn't look to be getting any less hectic either, best we can do is schmooze with the wonderful aristocrats."

 

[Orion]

Aslo Checks In On The Freeholders
(Should be noted Aslo came in with Mars)​

Aslo listened intently to the crowd around him as he left Mars' side. The hall was alive with the sounds of conversation and he was determined to make the most of the opportunity. He watched with slight curiosity as the pair of guards entered the chambers. It wasn't difficult to tell they were man and woman, yet from his position Aslo could quite make out who they were. As the helmets came off however it was quite clear. Our Allies of the Freeholds. Thought Aslo to himself, he listened intently to the exchange that proceeded, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth as they finished the taste Aslo almost immediately recognized as lies. Hearing the loud laughter of Tina brought his attention back to the meeting, and he looked to catch the Warlords exchanging with a man he had yet to meet. All the same he watched the remaining of the exchange before making his way over to Rashad with a wide smile on his face. "You choose a stranger attire on this visit to the capital friend! I wait with baited breath at what you wear on your next trip!"

"Obviously it will be something worth remembering more than the garb of commoners!" Rashad states jubiliantly as he opens his arms wide for a friendly embrace. "You've got a good eye for people, Tina has done herself credit as a Warlord! Even though I know she eyes for the top, like any good warlord would."

"Why would I waste your time with someone who doesn't serve your purpose. She has drive, but not enough to dare oppose you. I might call my eye yet another gift, and consider myself even more blessed!" he said as he went in for the friendly embrace. "But don't discount the garb of commoners too harshly, lest I assume you envy some aspect of their outfit."

"Indeed!" Rashad said as he patted Aslo's back. In a different environment, this would have been deadly for them both. "So! What can I do for one of my friends, Aslo?" Rashad says with a wide grin.

As he backed away from Rashad, he kept his eyes fixed on the Warlord. "After the success you've earned in Southblood? Not to mention my own profit from the situation?" he laughed lightly and shrugged. "I came over simply to ask that you keep my name in mind should you ever require any other assistance!" Pausing for a moment he allowed his gaze to float towards Xixis "And also to comment on what a magnanimous display that was to make such a gesture of peace!" he smiled as sincerely as he could.

"Well, as I said Aslo... There's nothing to profit in war with them right now." Rolling his shoulders, he then steps closer to Aslo. "There is something you can do for me, actually. Something quite simple, that would aid my interests immensely."

Aslo's eyes sharpen at Rashad's chosen wording. The man spoke carefully, and he was sure there was something behind the way he spoke. "Well now... Can't say I'm not a fan of easy profit... Speak friend, and tell me what I can do."

"Simple." He steps motions Aslo close, then whispers to him. "Let Tuleria die."

His gaze stayed steady. Wavering would promote guilt among his party, and if Rashad felt his position compromised that fact would lend itself to the quick extinguishing of Aslo's life. Instead he looked straight ahead at Rashad and smiled. "With the Blades spread as thinly as they are, and the current tragedy that has befallen the Tulerian people, Im not sure they could do anything but!" he said, honestly enough, though he could still feel the strain in the words coming out of his mouth.

Rashad's eyes narrow with skepticism, but he smiles nonetheless. "Of course I cannot force you to do anything against your conscience..." He sits back against a table, and pours himself another glass of wine. It seemed he was taking to the drink heavily, as this would be his third glass in less than ten minutes. "So! Instead, I can think of something else more reasonable... A decent business arrangement..." He swirls the wine in his glass and stares at his own reflection in it. "Try to convince Queen Kouri to start trading with us. Not in slaves, of course, that would be so very against the cloth, but... To modernize ourselves, I need to convince the others that slavery isn't the only primary venue of coin. The only way I can do that is with more trade. Renalta is a young kingdom, ripe for trade..."

Taking a seat himself he sat comfortably "Nor could I do anything to convince the others not to intervene and try o save the Tulerians, but you have my word I won't lift a finger." he said as he leaned back in the chair. The thought Dangerous man racing through his mind. "But Rashad of course I am more than willing to speak with the Queen concerning a trade route with the Free Holds... I'd doubt anyone within the Bladed wants the Holds to prosper more than I do." he stated simply.

"Good." He says with a nod as he takes another sip of wine. He was obviously troubled, but it was unlikely he'd speak on it judging by his reddening complexion. "Then I have nothing else to ask."

He sat somewhat unsure where to go from there. Rashad closing the topic lifted some tension from Aslo's mind though, and he saw a way out in Tina "Then if you don't mind I feel my attention drawn to the second member of your party. Things between us were left unfinished when last we met." Though he was aware it wouldn't serve to incriminate Rashad, he had to dig a bit deeper. Approaching Tina, he put his warmest smile on. "My how far you've come since last you visited the Capital, oh Tina the strong and powerful!"

"Aslo!" Tina says with a wide, surprisingly genuine grin. Twirling her dagger in her hand, she sheathes it and motions him over. "I have you to thank for that. Your word was enough to push him into trusting me."

"Then I suppose you owe me more than I had previously thought!" he said with a wide smile, and a sly wink. "Of course I only jest, when next I celebrate I'll be sure to drink to your good fortune!"

"Aha, and a place within that good fortune." She wraps her arms around his shoulders and leans in with a smile. "We both know you're not foolish enough to be charitable... So. What do you want, Aslo? Wine? Women?... Men?"

His toothy smile fades, leaving a small grin in its place, looking at Tina he cocks his head slightly to the side. "Have you always considered me a man of such carnal desire? No, my dear what I value most, above all else, is information." He watched her face closely for any sign of reaction.

It seemed unsurprising to Aslo that her eyes seemed to almost glow at the word 'information', looking away from him momentarily she seemed to try and hide something. "What do you need, Aslo?" Her tone seemed sincere.

The thought Poor form Aslo blazed across his mind a thousand times in the seconds it took Tina to turn away. He swallowed slightly after seeing her reaction. Had he really become so heartless? "Tina... That wasn't to mean... What it was-" He ended the thought with a sigh, unable to find the right words as to what he meant. "I'm sorry Tina."

"It's fine." Tina nods and looks back up at Aslo. "It's... Not you I'm worried about."

Aslo bit the inside of his cheek lightly. Carefully considering his next words. It wouldn't serve to upset her further "I wouldn't have tried to help you only to put you in harm's way now Tina. You need not worry for yourself either."

"I... Ah, nevermind." She shakes her head and smiles. "What kind of information are you looking for this time, Aslo?"

Aslo sensed that the issue wasn't truly resolved, but knew better than to pursue it further on this day. "It need not be said here, or even today, but I doubt the validity of Rashad's gesture to the Madheart. He must know making such a claim, and then doing anything to compromise that would make an enemy of everyone in this room, and leave the Freeholds to the Nine Hells?"

She glances at King Boann for a moment, then looks at Aslo. Keeping her tone hushed, she still yet hesitated. "First rule of business is always find a ripe market... The Goblin Holds is a tough sell. Making peace with them makes us look good, especially after dethroning Deimos, but make no mistake... He's waiting for an opportunity to cannibalize Tuleria." She eyes Rashad for a moment before looking back to Aslo. "He's smart, vicious, and dangerous when he needs to be."

Aslo didn't bother breaking his gaze away from Tina to observe Boann "Well I'm far more likely to believe that story Tina, though it will eventually put him in the same situation..." he placed his hands on her shoulders "Should the time come and he makes a move on Tuleria, you should distance yourself from any involvement however possible." Unless you're directly responsible. He thought again to himself, could it be possible she was playing him for a fool? "And I'm all too aware of the man's softer side, no need for you to remind of that" he said cracking a smile once again to reduce tension.

"Aye." She nods quickly. "As is I think I may have said too much..."

Aslo nods in understanding "Then anything else I learn I will find through other means, and you need not be concerned with it being traced back to you. Then I'll take my leave to spare you anymore suspicion." he said, and he motioned to walk away before planting a light kiss upon her cheek. Half hoping to sell a different topic of conversation to any onlookers, and then also to see the reaction of the Warlord as he left her side.

 

[BrattyCommissar]

Intermission; Filomena and Kasim​

---

Kasim walked aimlessly through the room, still rather preoccupied with his thoughts, when he spotted an oddity. It was a woman, clearly a warrior, standing near a cluster of Imperium soldiers. She wasn't exactly part of the group, just near it. He thought he remembered seeing her around the Queen's Blades quarters in the past couple days, but he'd never had a fantastic memory. She seemed out of sorts with the social aspect of the event, just standing there rather than speaking to anyone. Kasim decided this was a perfect opportunity to practice certain king-like traits that he'd never really bothered with before, like kindness and diplomacy, so he approached the warrior woman with a smile. "Hi there. You're one of the new Blades, aren't you?"


A man approached and spoke. He was a Blade. One who had abandoned Tuleria. Or, he was someone close to them. He could be afforded respect for now, but his smile would not be returned. "Yes sir, I am."


The cold reception was off-putting, but he managed to keep the smile on his face. Kasim couldn't help remembering that his talk with the princess had gotten off to a flat start like this as well. He wondered what he'd end up swearing to by the end of this conversation. "Well then. You're..." Old habits die hard, and Kasim couldn't help a long downward glance to assess her body. He coughed and tried to cover for himself. "You're clearly an accomplished warrior. How did you end up in the Blades instead of a normal army?"


"I served Tuleria in her armies until now. A soldier, not a warrior. Now I serve her interests with the Blades," I said to him, turning my posture towards him and placing my hands at ease behind my back. "May I ask who you are, sir?"


"Uh, you probably don't have to call me 'sir,' seeing as how we're probably the same rank. Assuming we have ranks, anyway. I'm Kasim Amibilus, slave turned freedom fighter turned freelance agent turned Queen's Blade. I don't think I caught your name?" Kasim was well aware that she hadn't offered it, but he'd heard that it was polite to pretend that other people were polite.


Everything had rank. "Your life story seems a fancy, Sir Amibilus." I took one hand from behind my back and offered my wrist to his in hopes he would his to mine for a shake, "I am Filomena Peláez."


Kasim took the offered hand and gave it a couple quick shakes up and down, accompanied with a nod and a grin. "A fancy, eh? That's nothing. I just tonight found out that I've got an actual chance to marry a princess, if I play my cards right. How's that for a fancy?"


I was dealing with a dishonourable man, or a foolish one. But, his history made me believe that he was first, dishonourable. I could only hope he was a fool instead. But the words of fools and dishonourable persons could not be trusted. He was a liar, or his fancies were imagined. "That would be quite a change, Sir Amibilus. Slave to Royal."


"So it would, although there would be some steps in between, of course. No self-respecting royal would marry an actual slave, after all." Kasim chuckled at his own lame joke, mainly in an effort to keep a pleasant demeanor. This Filomena woman seemed nearly inhuman with her total lack of response to his charm. "So, uh… Tuleria. I recall they've got..." He floundered for something to say and went with the first thing to come to mind. "A lot of lizardmen? Er. How does that work out for you Tulerians, eh?"


I do not know which revelation mattered more; that he was a fool who I was wasting my time on and was a black mark against the authority of the Blades if he was indeed one of them, or that he was likely not an assassin unless he was a far more devious and clever one playing the fool. Jester or fool, he was not worth my time, and so I would give him very little at this, "Sir Amibilus, it has not been well. They have taken to the sword against the common folk after the death of their most prestigious leader, General Varro. A preventable death." I did not intend to speak with the tone that I had, I could only hope the fool in him would not notice it lest he bumble into worse matters, such as joking of the devilry that corroded the lives of the nation.


"Oh." Kasim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. "You know, trying to be all… civil is harder than it looks. I thought it would be no problem, but look at me go." He blinked and looked at the woman, realizing what she'd been saying as his memory managed not to fail him for once. "General Varro. Ah. Tuleria sent a request to the Queen's Blades to look into an assassin of some sort, and we chose to take other requests instead. I guess your hostility makes sense." He shrugged a shoulder. "For what it's worth, sorry things turned out poorly. There are only so many of us, and there's only so much we can do. I expect before everything is over there'll be days we'll be glad if the worst that happens is an assassination and civil war of sorts."


I did not expect this. I do not know how long it was until I responded, "Thank you, Sir Amibilus."


He flapped a hand dismissively. "It's just words. Thank me when I've done something worthwhile." Kasim paused for a long moment, shocked that those words had come out of his mouth. It wasn't much, but it was a start on changing himself. He sighed again and offered Filomena a lopsided smile. "Sorry if I irritated you with my stupid chatter. I just saw you standing here alone among the crowd and thought I recognized you, so I figured I'd try to help you feel more comfortable with all this," he said with a broad gesture to indicate the room full of people. "As it turns out, I'm not very good at talking to women when I'm not trying to get them into bed."


I did not expect this. The fool had caught me further off guard, than before. I did not speak at that, only stared.


Kasim shrugged. "I could try the smooth talk to be a little less awkward, I guess, but I'm trying to be better than that. Long story." He peered at Filomena, glanced downward again for just a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, you don't seem the type that would be at ease with someone trying to get in your pants. Just forget I mentioned it."


I would need to show this fool in Tuleria, he'd be well met there, "You are an enjoyable fool, Sir Amibilus. You shall give me good company if we venture forth together. Not that kind," I said in my own jest in response to him.


Being called a fool wasn't exactly a compliment, but it was far from the worst that Kasim had been called, so he didn't make a fuss. "Your loss. If we end up working together, well, good company is a good start." He realized how that might have sounded like he'd be aiming to change her mind on the kind of companionship on offer, so he hurried to clarify. "Could be we'd even end up as friends rather than just comrades in battle. Stranger things have happened, eh?"


"You are not wrong, Sir Amibilus." We continued to talk for some time. We were beyond pleasantries, speaking of his time in Tuleria, mine in the military, and a correction to his 'hand shake'. Friends we may yet still come.[/hr]

 

[Fijoli]

Wisdom wisher
- Fijo and Brovo Collab - Gabriel/Valk -
Just after the diplomatic union? ;^_^​

"This place is strange, we may have gotten lost"

"Listen...What is that?"

Valkyujra's remained fully cloaked, tapping gently at the floors around her for depth perception, tapping into random faceless feet as she approached the sounds of voices in a great meeting.

"You used to have a lot more charm."
"Once."
"Telepaths are also often able to read our thoughts. Even I have my secrets."
"How do the Deaf function without certainty of intent from other units?"
"We make do."
"The answer left more uncertainty than before."
"Welcome to life."

"That woman you hear, is Kouri. She is the one who summoned you here. Remember that voice well, Valk, it is time to make yourself known." A voice whispered to her. Blindy she nodded, and moved forward, lifting her head to reveal a huddled white raven beneath her hood, cocking its head around at the people in the room as she walked past them and approached the Queen.

CAW!!​

Its cry echoed over the low mumble of conversation and brought a little hush to the room. She looked right through Kouri, and took a knee, laying her staff before her on the ground. "Queen Kouri...I have come to your council as you commanded, I ask that I may please speak with Gabriel."
Valkyujra removed her hood, the raven flapped its wings as it gained a better hold of her robes. Weary opal eyes looked into nothing and the journey here, worn under Renalta's Halo that all could now see revealed upon her head. "I come with Artifacts of your country kept safe by my guardians in the southern swamps and am here to do as you bid." Her breathing was a mix of fatigue and angst. Staying knelt, her empty gaze found its way to an archangel in the distance, though she could not see her, there was a stronger force pulling her attention towards Myria. This sightless gaze didn't last long as it averted to the floor and awaited Kouri's acknowledgement.

~

The Queen of Renalta bows politely before Valkyujra, having noticed her attention being drawn towards the Archangel momentarily. The two exchange a momentary look between them before she finally speaks, the tone of her voice showing slight confusion, but more welcoming than apprehensive. "Gabriel is out in the courtyard, last I checked. That's behind you, out the front door onto the castle grounds, and to the left. Just follow the castle wall... Oh, and Valkyujra, you needn't ask to talk to others here." Valkyujra would then hear a guardsman approach, his metal boots scraping against the stone floor as he quietly offered to guide her to Gabriel, as a courtesy to accommodate her blindness.

~

"Thank you, your grace, it is a pleasure to finally hear your voice." Kouri would understand that the oracle's Guardians would have told valkyujra for many a year of this day. She had very little trouble standing as she scooped up her staff and locked arms with the guardsmen."I can hear much kindness within it." Valk said softly, looking straight into Kouri again, this time with a noticeable expression of searching. A bright smile broke through the curious gaze and held a heavy hope that lifted the air.
Escorted from the room, the raven turned his head stiffly to one side back at the Queen, sneaking a quick and final look before they turned the corner, cawing at her. Once in the courtyard the guardsmen helped Valkyujra settle to a stone chair, where she sat listening to the sounds of sword play.

~

Out in the courtyard, Gabriel had been practicing with his summoned blade and shield. Rather than hard strikes however, he had been practicing with form: Smooth swings, wide arcs, deep breaths. Valkyujra, being blind, would still be able to hear the sound of the shimmering blade slicing through air, the sweeping of his feet as he shifted positions through the grass and dirt. After a few more motions, he suddenly stopped, noticing her sitting in a stone chair. "You must be the famed Oracle of the southern reaches I have heard whispers about. One of many interesting characters here." He starts to bow, only to realize the futility of the action. Instead, he walks over, and drags another stone seat over through the dirt to sit across from her. Sitting with his legs crossed, he glances at her helm with interest. He smelled of perspiration, having likely practiced for several minutes before her arrival. "A holy artifact? Interesting..."

~

She could smell him, quite musky with an equal presence to match it. Her heart was pounding, she had never been in a room of so many people, all these smells and sounds were new to her. The senses were tiered from the journey as she lightly bows her head to Gabriel and listens to him speak.
"Please, you may call me Valk." she said, slowly removing her helm revealing her full facial features, she seemed to stare off but spoke to Gabriel as she held out the helm in front of her.
"I did not always fit into this helm, and at first, I despised it. It was an odd reminder of my...fate. I was a child then, today I see things...quite differently." She paused, catching her breath, this made her worry, if she couldn't handle a room full of allies, how would she fair in a battle. A sense of doubt lingered at the back of her mind as she continued to speak.
"There is also another item in question," she reached down her robes withe slender fingers and pulled out a chain. Pulling until final and small glass vile began to sway at the end of this chain, filled with a dark red liquid. "I don't know very much about these items, only the knowledge that the chronomonks had acquired them for safe keeping, saying they didn't know what they were. All they could tell me was that I would be the only one capable of using them. Do you have any ideas, or directions for me to go?" Valkyujra shifted in her stone chair, resting her back. The raven eyed Gabriel suspiciously but stayed silent, plucking and pruning at the stray strands of his oracles hair.

~

Gabriel glanced at the raven momentarily, not really understanding why it was acting so oddly in staring at him. It was possible he didn't even recognize it was viewing him with some kind of emotion. "Hm..." Reaching out cautiously and touching the helm, he took the helm gently from her and examined it. The sound of his fingers tapping across the metal left a light hymn to it, as though it reacted differently in his hands than in the hands of someone else. "Interesting..." He mutters quietly, before taking a deep breath of the fresh air outside. Placing the helmet down on the table, he speaks once again. "It seems your monks had their hands on an angelic artifact... If I had to guess, it predates the first Kingdom of Renalta... It has something to do with sight. Perhaps your monks knew more of it than they let on, to gift it to you." It seemed he recognized her blindness, and his tone held a hint of sympathy.
He then holds the vial of blood in his hand, not taking it from her, but rather wrapping his hand around hers while examining it. After all, it was on a chain: Pulling it from her might damage the vial. "It is a vial of blood? I know not of blood. It may be angel's blood, but... Beyond that, I could not tell you about this sanguine mixture, nor direct you to anyone who would know. It seems that time and rumours will have to spread for a while before someone who might know will surface for you..." He hesitates, then lets go of her hand. "You are not of this time, are you? Who were your parents? Do you know?"

~

Visionless movements of her eyes noted that she was listening very carefully to Gabriel's words. His touch caused her heart to rapidly press against her ribcage and she began to take in a slow breath to control some shallow breathing. This wasn't the first touch she had ever felt, but it was the first angel that ever touched her. She let the feeling wash over her so as not to forget the way his hand felt.
His words seemed louder with his touch and she looked through his chest as though his eyes were there. The information was a lot to let soak in, so quickly, then with the inquiry of her past and her parents. It look her a moment to compose as she placed the vile securely out of sight.. and searched for nothing with those opal eyes.
"I was brought here by some anomaly of divine geometry and some truths I am not strong enough to understand." she spoke as though she were reciting a poem, a verse that had been repeated to her countless times. Her brows furrowed into a worried look. Eyes held contained tears that pressed to escape but only swelled as she refused to let them fall. "Why do you ask these questions?"

~

Gabriel looked at the budding in her eyes, and didn't seem to know how to react immediately. "Well, I..." He pauses, his tone held uncertainty in it. "Ah... Your lineage would have helped for me to inquire with others more knowledgeable than I about the passage of time... Would help me know who's blood that might be... After all, it likely comes from someone important." The tone of his voice implied something more. Not necessarily a lie, but he was holding something back in his inquiry. He looks down at the grass and rolls his fingers along the cold, hard stone of the arm rest of his chair. "For the helmet, I suggest inquiring with the Mage's Guild here. They have a talent for awakening ancient magic. Other than that... I'm not sure how else I can help you. Unless you would like to simply sit out here for a while with me, enjoy the feeling of the sun... You don't appear to get too much of it."

~

She paused for a long while imagining faceless names and voices of the parents she had but there was one thing she knew of. "One parent was human, the other, as you are," Valk paused again closing her eyes as she continued to speak, "Which was what and whom, names, voices, memories? There are none. The monks do know many things, things they say I have to search for, and not to just be handed."
She indeed hadn't felt the sun in quite some time, swamp trees barely let the light through but she found ways to enjoy the warmth and light. "…perhaps I was not asking them the right questions." She murmured, taking a hand and plucking at the ties to her robes. She stood slowly and the raven flutter down to the back of her empty stone chair. She tried to imagine what magic looked like, how it felt in the air. Eyes still closed she disrobed to reveal cloths held loosely by chains upon chains, delicate and revealing, and quite comfortable. Giving a slow turn back to face Gabriel she gripped her staff loosely.
"Some sun does seem just the thing I need right now, would do me good to unfold for a while before delving back into the ocean of voices."A stunning smile pulled on the corner of her lips as she mentioned the sun and slowly sat back down in her chair. "Your vibrations are soothing, forgive me if I seem too familiar."
The tears that swelled were now swallowed by a brighter smile as The raven found his way back to her shoulder and beneath her ebony hair he nuzzled into her porcelain cheek,"...of course how rude of me, This...is Wolk my most faithful companion." The bird clawed loudly and suddenly at the sound of his name and narrowed his eye at Gabriel, sizing him up like any other predatorily primal beast of the wild. He was rather large for a raven and as white as snow, standing out in contrast to the black strands of Valkyujra's hair. She opened her eyes halfway and anyone paying attention could see that the angst had passed as comfort began to set in. "I think I would like to hear more of your mages guild. What kind of magics do they wield? All sorts I'd hope."

~

Where most men would probably stare in awe or blush with feverish thoughts in mind, Gabriel merely raised his eyebrows in momentary surprise at her rather peculiar style of clothing. More likely, the lack thereof. Clearing his throat, he glances at the raven and slowly seems to connect the dots about its nature as her companion. "A familiar. Interesting." He notes aloud, before finally replying to her inquiry. "Mortals do not live forever such as I, though I am certain you are painfully aware of such. So they created this... Mage's Guild, to create a library of information so extensive, it contains even more knowledge than the angels keep on record... And, it is all about magic. All kinds of magic, whether good or evil they practice it, categorize it, teach it, and contain it." He steeples his fingers in front of himself, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward. Though, he remained cautious of the raven, that looked at him with malicious paranoia. "You needn't concern yourself with me, or most angels, about comforting vibrations or otherwise. Mortals, on the other hand... Come in all shapes and sizes. Beware what you..." His eyes run over her frame momentarily, not with lust, but with concern. "... Reveal... Or say, for that matter."

~
The raven snapped its head towards the angel at the motion of his eyes. In a flutter in spread its wings wide and at her knee cawed loudly at the angel. Valkyujra wasn't startled but she scooped Wolk up by his breast and curled him into her chest. "He is only trying to help us, don't be rude." she snapped quietly, sushing the animal.
"The time will come again and again that I will have to use what I've got to survive." At first, Gabriel might have thought this was directed towards him, but it becomes very apparent that she is talking rather normally to the animal and it responded with a look at her, "it is going to be a challenge for the both of us, you best just get used to it now."
She pushed the bird up into the air and it fluttered with an awkward re-balancing to the nearest tree branch. "I hope that I can trust my instincts that I am safe in your company for the moment? Yes?...yes..." she answered for him.
She wasn't exactly sure what to say now, but her body relaxed that much more knowing that Gabriel had no intentions and words seemed to become trivial compared to her enjoying a relaxing moment in the sun with an angel. "...while only time is going to teach me some lessons, it might not hurt to find a trustworthy companion. Have you any suggestions?"

~

While Valkyujra spoke with her raven, Gabriel merely watched. He had nothing to add to her conversation, and despite what she may have thought, he had seen far stranger things in his lifetime. His tone held a bit of confusion as he spoke once more. "Aside from your fellow Queen's Blades? I have no idea. I have only been here a couple weeks myself... Angels are not trusted here... The two queens of Renalta are trustworthy... For companions though, no. I wish I could help you, but I know naught of any personally." It seemed he had little else to add, and was content to simply remain in the sun, closing his eyes and breathing slowly and deeply. His breathing had slowed from the steady pace he had just a few moments ago while training, having calmed to relax himself

~

She didn't say anything else, all the information she would get had been given. Listening to the angel's deep breaths she just remained silent. Hearing everything. The sun's warmth gave her a moment of reprieve, and soon Valkyujra gave a slight jolt forward, her head slightly dipped as Wolken was suddenly at the chair's back, pecking at her hair. "No time to Sleep, Wake up Valk, it's time to go the mages guild"
The voice was new to Gabriel's ears as if someone else was there with them. Valkyujra stood to wrap her cloak around her and took hold of her staff. Wolk gave heavy sounding coo almost as if growling at Gabriel, puffing his feathers to seem even bigger. "Thank you Gabriel, for speaking with me and sitting with me in the sun, it's been...an honor to meet you." She bowed her head to him before starting off with gentle swings and taps of her staff while she walked away from Gabriel toward the Mages guild.

~

"Indeed." Gabriel stated with an amused look as he leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the sun some more.

 

[Atlas Child]

Mars and Abjaar
Current Time - At the Diplomatic Union​

When Also left him Mars first went to the nearest empty table where he sat in half-drunken silence. He waited mostly for his buzz to fade. It was not so bad as he expected it to be. Food and drink without expense, he had expected to hear the nobility argue with one another through the coarse of a day but instead he could stay far enough away from it to not hear it at all. He did so for a while, and when he was no longer hungry and felt his buzz had faded, he stood to fetch more wine.

As Mars maneuvered through the room something managed to catch his eye: Rashad and Tina. This was the first time he had seen the newly crowned warlord since they had won it for him. They were seated next to each other and joined by a third man, a blade but also a stranger. He had heard rumors of the newest additions to the blades: A thief, an ex-angel and a slave lord of sorts. Mars could deduce which this man was. At some point in the conversation the warlords fell over themselves in laughter and the man, Abjaar had been his name, stood and walked away from the table in visible anger. Whatever the trio had been discussing it was evident the slaver had not taken kindly to the result.

It was by chance the man walked into Mars' direction, and as Abjaar passed him he casually spoke, "If it makes you feel better, Rashad owes his position to the dagger of a slave girl. He's here at all because we handed him his crown."

Abjaar's seething anger was tempered by the realization that he was losing control of his emotions. Perhaps he had drank too much wine? It was unlike him to lose control of emotions: losing control was a lethal mistake. He was quickly becoming less annoyed at his failure of a negotiation and more at his breaking of the mug. It had been a nice mug!

Passing seemingly no one of importance, Abjaar was caught by the whispers of someone unknown to him. He was seemingly aware of Abjaar's bruised ego, because the man attempted to placate him by besmirching Rashad's name. "I don't really care how he got his throne: any way is legitimate in the Free-Holds." The tall man turned to the man who spoke to him, taking in his features and trying to weigh him up. Not a servant, not a noble, a Queen's Blade?

"Either you don't know who I am, or you don't care. Either way, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Abjaar Korsair: a name I hope that will be spoken of more often in the near future. You are...?"

"I would be Mars," he said raising an eyebrow. "I thought they were exaggerating when they said a slave lord had joined the blades." He then explained, "I'm familiar with the slave trade so I'm familiar with the Korsair name at least, I heard they had all been killed out. Yet, here years later the bastard prince reveals he had in fact been alive all this time, and comes to join the Queen's Blades no less."

Mars nods his head uneasily up and down, giving himself is own approval as he had deduced a great mystery; The time spent drinking in the Garden was finally catching up to him. His eyes quickly surveryed the people standing before the pair, "You want your name back in the history books so you went to Rashad for favor." Mars shook his head in annoyance and was silent for a moment, it was obvious his mind had wandered somewhere else, "When we killed Diemos you wouldn't believe the treasures I saw. Everything covered in gold and silver, enough wealth to make a peasant a king! We handed it all over to him as well as the Free Holds, and as a reward we get a pat on the fucking back."

Abjaar nods and seemingly confirms everything that Mars had to say, a thin line on his lips as he listened to every blunt, unflattering word. He didn't begrudge Mars for his ability to discern the truth, just that fate had dolled him out a hand that, upon rehearing, sounded so much a disservice. "You seem to have an advantage of information over me, Mars of the Queen's Blades. I did not know that my history was so readily available in the annuls of history."

Listening to the bitterness in Mars' voice did help to bring a smile to Abjaar's face. It was good to see that Rashad was burning a great number of bridges amongst the Queen's Blades: just as Abjaar had predicted. It would be sweet when the Warlord was made to rue the mistake he had made in scorning Abjaar's help. "He is a man with far too much scope and far too little vision, it seems. He thinks too much of the Free Holds, and too little of other allies, it seems. It is foolish to scorn those that put you in power, I would be sure to give a greater thanks to those who installed me into a position of strength than a mere pat on the back."

Abjaar looked longingly at the dented pewter mug in his hand, devoid of all alcohol. "What is your story then, Mars? Where do you hail from, and what did you do before becoming a member of the Queen's Blades?"

"Well, if you actually care to hear it I was a privateer of sorts. Well more like pirate, but we worked for Tuleria initially and carried cargo back and forth for a while," Mars began to explain. "Jewels, stones, and sometimes people too. Whatever we could fetch gold with we did." As Mars spoke he motioned his hand out to a nearby table devoid of people, "Why stand and talk when we can sit and drink?"

Abjaar nods at the offer of sitting and drinking. It would be good to refill his slightly battered cup. "There is great profit in Piracy, or Privateering, if you prefer. A noble pursuit indeed, although how you went from Privateer to Queen's Blade is likely an interesting tale in its own right."

Abjaar pours himself a mug full of wine, sniffing the stuff before taking a testing sip. "Tell me, have you made any allies in the Blades? People who are receptive to you are...more likely to accept me. It would help, to be sure. Inwould owe you a small favour."

"It's not so interesting a tale. I thought their would be profit in serving a Queen directly, but I was wrong. Now i'm a bit confused why I find myself here."

Mars gives a cheeky smile and pours himself some wine as now, but from a different bottle than Abjaar. Likewise he takes a drink, but he doesn't bother to examine the stuff first. It looked a fine red and that was all he cared to know, "I'm not here to due you in, but it makes sense for you. For me however: who'd hire an assassin to kill a retired pirate in a room of kings and queens? As long as our security isn't a joke and they don't poison every bottle here, I can drink blissfully."

"The unexpected poison is the deadliest. It is when your target least expects to be killed that would likely be the best time to kill a target, no?" He sips the wine, looking at Mars with a little smirk of his own. He was already starting to like the man: he had a certain daring humour about him that Abjaar could easily appreciate. "I am sure that there are certain people who would rather kill me than the queens or tyrants of this room."

Pausing a moment, letting the silence fill the space between them, Abjaar decided to ignore the non-answer to his actual question. "Where else would you rather be right now? This is the centre stage of the world right now. Opportunity is here for the taking, should a man or woman be bold enough. What mission takes your fancy? I know where my destination is: I have a promise to keep, after all."

Mars tapped his thumb against his mug and leaned back into his chair as he said, "Rashad found something pretty damn interesting, figured I'd go back to the Free Holds and liberate it." He lifted the wine to his lips and took a swig before continuing, "Either that or go after an Illusionist. I guess I won't know which until everyone has a say. One or the other, if they try to get me to go anywhere else I say damn the Queen's Blades, I was making better money at sea."

"What about you," he concluded. "Where is a promise taking you?"

"I am bound for the underdark. When you make a promise to the Queen of the drow, it is best fulfilled." Abjaar smiles, as he sips his wine and savours the taste. "If you wish to ask my opinion, I think you should hunt for the illusionist. It is good to secure our home base, and I have heard rumours of the wrongs he committed against the spymaster...Our spymaster. If you wonder what your purpose is, perhaps you can find it in being a hero."

Abjaar shrugs, and then offers with a chuckle. "Who knows, maybe the Spymaster will teach you a few tricks, in return for the head of the illusionist. I am sure that I would grant any boon to the man who brought my child's killer."

"I'm not here to impress a woman," Mars replied simply with a soft exhale. A smile crept on his face and laughed at a sudden thought, "Being a hero isn't worth a damn to me, and if these Queens are worth a damn the illusionist will see their show of force. The mage isn't going to need my help dying."

He continued to smile, but now he locked eyes directly with Abjaar, "I tell you friend, you keep treating me stupid and this conversation is going to turn unfriendly very fast. 'You would give greater thanks, you would give greater boon, you would owe me a favor.' Quit the bullshit. I earn my bread by killing, stealing, and smuggling and your a slave lord. We both know the relationship between our positions."

Abjaar slowly lowered his cup to the table after Mars' more direct outburst. "Friend, I have not yet intended to treat you like an idiot. You simply think too small. I offer the currency of favour now, because it is the best way that we might exchange value further down the line. If you would like me to stoop down to your level, and truly treat you like the idiot you assume I think you are, we can do so."

There was a dark tone to Abjaar's voice. Cold, angry and significantly less measured. "I wouldn't need your help killing, because I am more than capable of doing it myself. In fact, I could reach over this table and snap your neck, if I were so inclined. There is nothing you can steal which will give me what I want, for I look beyond the value of mere gold and pretty trinkets. Lastly, you can't smuggle strength and power, only poison and people. What I demand cannot be taken by duress, only by force."

Abjaar stood up, letting his full height dominate over the table. Six foot four inches of muscle and contained annoyance shadowed the pirate. "You know what I want from you? I want you to become someone worth using. All I see is a bitter man with no goal and no pride. If all you think that a woman as powerful as the Spymaster Mikan is useful for is to be wooed, then you are a fool that is not worthy of my time."

Abjaar picks up his drink, downing a long draught from it. before meeting Mars' gaze with a steely resolve. "If you have anything intelligent to say, say it now. Otherwise, we are done here."

Mars was silent, letting the words of the slave king linger in the air for a moment. The slaver was visibly strong, but Mars didn't fear big men, so the show of size did nothing. What did concern him however was an opponents skill, which currently he had no gauge of, so the snapped neck comment slid. In actuality Mars looked somewhat relieved. His response was mono-tone, devoid of emotion.

"I think men who get side-tracked from thier goals never reach them. My goal here isn't to win a woman, and while I want James' dead just as bad as anyone else, having his head isn't my goal either."

Mars felt it important to be stoic in his response, a measure of emotion could reveal his attraction to Mikan. The Free Holders had seen it when he could not resist himself, but he could now. It was unfortunate a man's heart was the easiest weakness to exploit. As the Slaver King prepared to leave Mars spoke. "Knowing what a man wants is more deadly than poison slaver. It's better you see a bitter, goalless man." Then he offered his final bit of advice, "I think you had better start paying in something other than favors or people will keep laughing."

Abjaar snorts at the man's response, almost as mocking as a sneer. "Tell yourself what you will, thief. I hope for yourself that you have a real goal. Money will buy you nothing in the days to come."

He turned his back to the man, wine-mug in his hand and a brief smile on his lips. He could feel a certain fire in the man behind him, seemingly ignited by Abjaar's words. "Who knows, if you are lucky, you might find something worth more than a shiny piece of metal...That is what you purchase with favours. The small minded people may laugh, I care not for them."

Abjaar leaves Mars then, with no more time or energy for the man. Perhaps he could find someone else interesting?

 

[Alphakoka]

Amanda + Laenaia Collab​

After returning from Rheinfeld, Laenaia kept herself busy trying to familiarize herself on using her Shadow magic. So far however, she was limited in what she figured she could do with it beyond veiling herself from view and snuffing out candle flames. Breathing out, the vampire dropped her last attempt on covering the room she was in with darkness. It was only partially succesful as even with the windows covered, it still took a lot from her to do so. Stepping out of the Guild's training room, Laenaia looked towards the ceiling and surrounding as she don her cloak once more. Perhaps she should look for a more experienced guild mage for some pointers.

As Laenaia moved forward she would find herself bumping into a rather busy looking woman carrying a pile of books. The woman stumbles as the books fall to the floor, and with a whine she looks back at Amanda, who shakes her head with pity. "Veira, you don't have to run to the Queen's Blades. You can take your time." Veira looks back at her and shakes her head rapidly as she pulls out both of her wands, lifting the books up into a nice pile with a musical hum. "I, will, get, it, allllll done, on, time!" The books land back into her arms as she smiles at Laenaia. "Sorry!" Passing her by quickly, Veira turns a corner and continues rushing, presumable, to Renalta's castle.

Amanda, on the other hand, crosses her arms and smiles warmly. "So Laenaia, how did your practicing go?" She always seemed to know where to be, and when. It was strange, but Laenaia would not be the first to notice it.

Laenaia inclined her head forward in a gesture of deference towards Amanda, "Archmage, I'd like to say that it went well and to some extend it is but..." Laenaia hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I've learned Shadow magic to complement what I could do during the night but it doesn't seem like I have the luxury on keeping it that way and..there's only so much I could do with it during the day without exhausting myself further. I was about to find a senior mage to ask for pointers in it..."

"Well, I am a senior mage, am I not?" Amanda motions to the torches alongside the walls. "Show me what it is you can do." There were six torches in all, each marking a doorway into another part of the Guild, spread several feet apart from one another in three opposing pairs.

"Ah... a moment please," Laenaia said as she focused her magic towards the shadows made by the torches on the wall. The shadows wriggled before they started to, one by one, crawl towards the flame in a snake like motion and in a similar fashion, coil around the flames and extinguish them. Laenaia let her control go afterward, drops of sweat forming on her head. "It was easier the less lighting there are but even one still gives me trouble in keeping my control over the shadows."

"Hm." Amanda playfully ponders as she smiles, mimicking Laenaia's magic with a flick of her wrist. Shadows ran from her to another torch at great speed, and silenced them. Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, she then forms a smaller shadow and splits it off from herself. "Try this. Try focusing on keeping a single piece of shadow, separate from yourself. Remember, it is an extension of your will, and need not be connected to you, so long as you can control it."

Laenaia gave a nod before trying to duplicate what the Archmage showed her, her shadow elongated and formed an ellipse before splitting a tiny blot of shadow. The vampire frowned as she moved the small blot around her and Amanda and manipulate its form further. The frown grew the further the blot was from her and when Laenaia made the blot climb up on her and made it stop at the back of her hand.

"Interesting." Amanda muses idly as she dispels her own shadow. "You treat it like a pet, almost... Mm..." Motioning to one of the torches, she points at the shadow. "Now try to cover a torch with the individual shadow. You'll find it won't be as hard as it was before, once it's in position."

"Yes, it feels a lot more receptive to my control," Laenaia said as she send the shadow to cover the torch, only for her to recoil when the shadow came in contact with the flame as if she touched it herself. "Hot! ...huh?"

"Excert too much control and you will feel the consequences, yes. Relax a little." Amanda steps behind Laenaia and grasps her shoulders. "I'm not here. This is just another practice session... Try again." She motions to the torch. "The shadow is a manifestation of your will, it is not you, it is a byproduct of your thoughts."

"My apology," Laenaia muttered. The vampire seemed to shrunk slightly under Amanda's (lecture?), quite literally so, the vampire shrunk in height as she repeated her attempt to encase the torch with her severed shadow. Her attempt was more successful this time and the torch was quickly doused. "Ah, I did it," she breathed as she made her shadow 'slither' back to her feet.

"Good." Amanda states simply as she looks at the torch. With a flick of her wrist, it lights itself again. "Now try wrapping the shadow around it without dousing it. Simply hide the light, like an illusion. That, I am certain, will be even easier." Her hands rest on Laenaia's shoulders once more. "Go on." She says reassuringly.

It was with certain confidence that Laenaia did as the Archmage said. Her shadow wove around the flame and wobbled along with its movement. Laenaia squinted as the shadow grew and stilled into a dome covering the fire. Only for the dome to start wobbling again soon after and Laenaia made a frustrated noise as she increased her focus on making the shadow stable without being affected by the blocked light.

"I can't....keep..it..steady...easily," she grunted.

With a quiet hum, Amanda stares at the shadow surrounding the light. Laenaia would feel an urge to follow Amanda's gaze as she looks at the base of the shadows around the edges of the torch, that moved the least. "It is not real, your will manifests something that doesn't exist physically. The flames cannot hurt you, because the shadows aren't you, and the shadows don't have a physical presence: They merely block out the light. Stop thinking as though to catch the light, and simply stop it with a simple, static object. Like a cover for a lamp, or a thick flame-resistant cloth: Surround it, without silencing it, with shadows as black as the Underdark's deepest abyss."

Laenaia considered Amanda's word quietly for a moment before turning her gaze back to her separated shadow. The vampire stilled as she fully put her attention to it, even stopping her fake breathing. Matching its caster, her shadow had also stopped wobbling and Laenaia gave out an amused 'huh.'

"There. See? Isn't that easier?" Amanda whispers sweetly before letting go of Laenaia's shoulders. "Now when you practice, just remember what I said: It is the manifestation of your will, not you." With that stated, Laenaia would find Amanda gone. Vanished into thin air, assuming she had even really, physically been there in the first place.

Finding herself suddenly all alone with no sign of the Archmage, Laenaia could only blink before her mind caught up and she started to look around. Seeing nobody, she checked her Mind to see if she were under influence. When she received no indication of such, all the vampire could do was shaking her head in confusion before leaving the Guildhouse. She had other things to sort before going to the Diplomatic Union.

 

[Atlas Child]

Mars and Aeyr
Prior to the Diplomatic Union, Returning from the Free Holds​

The return to South Blood could have been described as jubilant. The Renaltan soldiers marched forward proudly with Mikan and Fahim somewhere near the front of the column. Mars kept his distance from the front, still ashamed from his blunder. Near him walked Aeyr and her companion whose name he couldn't recall. She had been the one Mikan instructed him to protect after the fighting broke out. He didn't do it, but felt glad the woman had lived regardless. Aeyr had killed the tyrant king and reunited with her sister; It appeared the Selkie had a bit of luck on her side.

Mars spoke when there was a moment of silence between the two, "Good work on the warlord, Aeyr. I imagine you saved a lot of lives with that throw."

"To think of it as such, so many lives changed… It is difficult to grasp. Never would I have thought myself an assassin of kings," she responded, quietly. Aëyr turned to face Mars and graced him with a somber smile. "I thank you for praise, but the honour is not mine alone." She motioned towards him with her arm as she glanced back at the column, her smile becoming somewhat more genuine. "I hear you make quite the distraction."

"Anyone can dance," Mars chuckled, the humor of his role in the mission had not escaped him. "You'd be amazed what people can do when they have something to lose, but that may be a concept you understand better than I"

The column marched on and the soft rattle of steel swords and armor was their cadence. Mars turned back to Aeyr, raised an eyebrow and asked, "Which do you hold in higher regard, your ideals or your freedom?"

"Freedom without ideals is hardly freedom at all." She pondered the rather pointed question for a moment, in silence. "Better to be a slave than a monster—do you not agree? Even now, I am but a slave to ideals greater than myself. You were once a man of the sea. There must have been something guiding your path beyond idle whimsy."

At her response he furrowed his brow and faintly tightened his lips, he had expected something else. His own response was quick, "Survival at first, then when I became pretty good at that it became about getting the things I want. It's interesting you say you are a slave to a greater good. I would of figured an ex-slave would be resistant to returning to bondage, physical or otherwise."

He straightened his back, tilted his head and sighed, "If it's a choice between my principles and my freedom, I would sooner be the monster; It's an easy choice. Then again my ideals exist to serve self-preservation so I wouldn't have to fight my principles to save myself. If anything, being a queen's blade threatens what I believe in. I asked because I had thought we might be like-minded."

Raising an eyebrow curiously at his response, Aëyr stumbled between a smile and a frown, uncertain of the tone their conversation had taken. "Is it not odd to seek an answer you already think to know?" She rubbed her wrists idly as she carefully deliberated the idea. "Amidst the Blades, I am used—before, I was abused. The difference is that I was given the liberty to choose my shackles."

She looked at him with a sad air. "I thought you a good man, Mars, and I think it still. You say you act against your principles; is it not possible that they have changed?"

"They haven't. Had this mission called for a monster you would of seen one," he replied simply. He figured Aeyr naive for holding him in high regards; She struck him as too trusting. None-the-less there was a feeling of pleasure from her appreciation and kindness. "Do you have any stories from when you were a slave?"

Her disposition changed near instantly. Her whole body tensed as she temporarily halted in her tracks as she stared at him, staggered, before pulling her cloak more tightly about her, continuing her march, and glaring pointedly away from Mars. "No."

The reaction spoke volumes, and so after some silence he apologetically said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive. Coming here from my old profession takes a bit of adjustment."

Aëyr allowed the hush to fester for a short moment, still aggrieved, then released her pent-up breath in an attempt to calm herself. Her shoulders slumped, and she came to look more fragile then angry. "I came to the Blades to leave that life behind me. I do—" Her voice faltered, and she glanced at Eüchia, who walked a little distance aways as she and Mars talked. "Reminders are unwelcome."

Mars sighed heavily. The girl was kind, fragile, and seemingly genuine. She would be no threat; he found no point to keep his guard up with her. It was for that reasoning Mars decided to simply talk, not play at games of trust. He sighed with his reply, "Well, you're appreciated here."

A slight upturning of her lips denoted her appreciation for the gesture, but her eyes betrayed the fact that she couldn't help but dwell a little on things past. "A good man indeed," she chuckled under her breath, as if to herself.

Aëyr tentatively clasped his shoulder, her hand resting heavily there for a moment before she removed it. "I am glad to have you at my side, Mars. We are so few, against a foe so vast. Those we lost in Arian, and now Abida—" She hesitated, pensive. "Fighting for the cause, or for ourselves, will not be enough. If we are to see this through, we must be willing to fight for one another."

His response was simple, "You have an excellent attitude." He didn't share her beliefs nor her enthusiasm, but he hoped she would accomplish what she set out to do in the Blades. "When we return to the capital, it'll be hard to tell when, or if, we will ever see each other again. I genuinely hope that we do."

__________________________________________________________

Mars' Farwell
Present time

​

The day had dragged on and Mars had sat in quiet contemplation. He was hoping to gain something fruitful from the slaver but anything of value to come from that partnership wouldn't come for a long time, and Mars wasn't a patient man. Awaking a demi-god sounded interesting, but after considering that it would help solidify Rashad's rule Mars threw the option out the window. Mars was bitter to the warlord for what he had, and what Mars didn't. There were other Queen's and King's to vie for the favor of, but ultimately he decided against it all for a simple reason: His philosophies clashed with what was needed here. His presence would do more harm than good to these people, because they were second to whatever he wanted. Or worse yet Mikan would change him. Now he questioned 'why stay?'

Selfless service wasn't him. When his head cleared he stood and wandered from the audience hall. As he thought about Mikan, he packed what he had brought. It wasn't much for there wasn't much to his name. He wanted to say goodbye to her, or at least help her hunt the bastard down who had killed her son, but his feelings would get him killed he was sure of it. She was changing who he was, taking away the selfishness and the greed, traits dear to his heart for they had been what had kept him alive. It was something in him he did not want to let go off. If he saw her he would never leave. So instead he walked down the winding path from the keep, a horse's reigns in hand with all that he owned rolled neatly away.

He crossed paths with a group of merchants preparing to set out. "Where are you off to?" he inquired. The coast they replied. To sail home wherever that might be. Mars smiled, "Perfect."

"I've seen your sort near the keep," one declared, "are you a Queen's Blade?"

"I assure you friend, I could be nothing of the sort." He joined them as they set off, turning the capital to their backs. He had heard the spymaster of Renalta could bewitch the heart of any man. He wondered if that had been what happened.

 

[HerziQuerzi]

Protector Yuri
-Renalta-
Collab with Brovo

---

​

Yuri breathed a sigh of relief as the announcement of the new alliance between the Amazons and the Imperium was made. The rumours and hints that had been flying around the barracks were true after all. The war she had feared had been pushed ever further back. Which meant it was time to change her position in the entire affairs. An unofficial soldier-ambassador was no longer necessary.

For years she had assumed that should the best come to pass, she would simply return home. But the Queen she had known was dead, and she felt the need to support the Imperium now as much as she did her home. The Queen's Blades would let her serve everyone.

She began moving across the throne room, clad in decorative armor. Fully armed plate could too easily be seen as aggressive for a peaceful gathering. Instead, there was only an armored skirt as well as a breastplate over a red tunic, finished off with a cloak clasped over her shoulder.

Finding Florence, she saluted and waited for him to acknowledge her. "General," she began, "I ask for your permission to be dismissed from the Imperium army, so that I may enlist with the Queen's Blades." Even after several years, Yuri often struggled with the formal language used with superiors, and would try and go over conversations before hand to get the words right.

Florence turns and faces Yuri, saluting her back casually in turn. As she made her request, his hands grasp her shoulders and, without any sign of disapproval, he nods. "You are freed of Imperial responsibility, Yuri. That is why you came after all, no?" He motions to Queen Kouri. "They need you more than we need you. Consider it an act for the Greater Good if you have any hesitations."

Yuri nodded, and after a quick word of thanks, moved towards the Renaltan queen. She was mildly surprised that the ruler of a nation personally oversaw new recruits for the Blades. But then again, they were her personal task force, more or less. Once more she saluted, before remembering something about kneeling was the proper form in the south. Too late now, she thought before addressing Kouri. "Your Majesty," she said. "I am Protector Yuri; Amazon citizen and Imperial soldier. I would join your Blades, if you will have me."

Queen Kouri nods, and bows her head respectfully for a moment. "I would be honoured to have you join the ranks of the Queen's Blade, Yuri. If you have any questions, or need anything, let me know." It seemed there was little else for her to say, though she remained attentive, in case there was anything Yuri required.

Yuri was mildly surprised by the sudden acceptance; she had expected a test, or at least some questions as to her capabilities. Then again, perhaps the Queen assumed that those who wished to join the Blades knew the risks involved, knew what was expected of them. And those who didn't would receive their rude awakening soon enough.

She almost turned to leave with a nod when something came to mind. A searching question, but from what she'd heard of the Queen, she was unlikely to take such things in offense. "So far," she began, "You've had success, people have been inspired. But this Union… how long do you think it will last if our losses begin to mount? How much of this do you think is held together by hope alone?"

"Hope alone is a powerful thing, Yuri. It makes men of mice, and pebbles of mountains... It is what carried me and others to defeating the Gods themselves. Worry not about the spirit of men in the face of certain doom, for mortals have withstood great dangers before... Worry about distrust and paranoia tearing us all apart." Perhaps it was advice, or perhaps it was another quaint speech on her part. Perhaps it was a little of both, as Kouri smiled knowingly, and motioned towards the Imperium and Amazons. "Regardless of how things work out between them, they will seek to stand against the threat. Whether that's together with trust, or separated by paranoia, is on them... All we can do is help them, and inspire hope in trust." It seemed she was not going to give any definite answer beyond that to Yuri.

"Hope," Yuri muttered. "Just a word, but I guess in the end a word can be however strong you make it."

 

[Firemind]

Abjaar, Alexandria and Sarah Darkhammer – Toys and Secrets.

​

Abjaar had met many different people during the course of the evening, some who held the promise of future partnership and some who would likely become a threat to him, someday soon. There was one person who had caught his eye though: A woman that had inspired fear without so much as uttering a word. He had tracked down one of the sla…servants during the course of the evening to find out her name. The man had tried to hurry along, but the offer of a few gold coins had him spilling her name: Sarah Darkhammer.

Even Abjaar had heard of the assassin: Wife to Malakai, killer of kings, and all around dangerously powerful woman. If ever there was someone that Abjaar should try and get on his side, it would be her. The servant had been extra helpful in telling him that the woman had attended the last meeting: that meant she had some sort of agenda with the Queen's Blades. Abjaar saw his opportunity to approach her, and perhaps barter with her in the only currency that matter: The currency of favours.

After a meeting with one of his fellow Queen's Blades, Abjaar found himself momentarily alone and from across the hall, he spotted her alone and peering around the hall like a falcon amongst the field mice. Abjaar abandoned his battered mug on a table and made his approach. "Hail, you are Sarah Darkhammer, yes? I am Abjaar Korsair, of the Queen's Blades. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance for the second time tonight."

"There was a first?" Sarah replies with confusion as she turns, wearing thick robes as always. The hood on said robe covered her face, save for her lips, which were free to show whatever expression she wished to wordlessly impart to others. "You are?..."For a moment she pauses, then a smile reaches her lips. "Ah. Yes. Right. The abandoned nobility with a lust for power beyond his station and an ego which will get him swiftly slain by the vultures of the land. Please, do amuse me with your inevitable scheming for power, as many of your kind do before being plucked from life by a capable assassin."

Abjaar looked at the woman, before smirking openly at her mocking of him. He wasn't so inclined to puff out his chest as he had with Tina, so he didn't mind the ribbing. It was, in fairness, a decent enough assessment of his position. "If all men and women strove only for what was of their station, this would be a very boring world we live in." He reached up to his neck and undid the topmost button of his shirt, letting some air get to his nape. The night had grown warmer for Abjaar, who had not been part of such a large gathering since his days as a son. "If I can entertain you, I've achieved something at least. I hope to learn why it is that such a powerful and, normally secretive, woman has attended the gatherings of the Renaltan Queens twice now. I can't imagine it is in my power to help, but I might be able to amuse you with a promise of aid."

"Amuse me indeed." Sarah replies as she crosses her robed arms over her chest and leans back against a stone pillar. She was unimpressed. "You're not the first mortal to ask that question, and I'll reply to you the same I did to him: I an information broker, and the actual tasks I need help with are far beyond your station to even feint being competent for. So..." She licks her lips. "If you want information, I'll sell it for favours..."

Abjaar paused to consider his options. As was his habit, his fingers stroked his beard as he contemplated his path. "There are so many things worth asking, that I am unsure where I should start. How soon would you want to collect the favours? I must of course, prioritise the missions of the Renaltan queens."

She suddenly appears behind him, with a trail of smoke following her path of instant transportation. Wrapping her hands around his clothed shoulders, he could feel a frigid chill run through his nervous system as she whispers in his ear. "I will tell you what favours I want, when I want them... That is the price for information..." She returns to her previous position, again with a trail of smoke following her. It was scentless, as though it existed in another plane of existence, but Abjaar had no abilities in such things, thus no comprehension of it beyond that anecdote. "Are you sure you want that information, child? Be careful who you give it to, you could start a genocide... Or get yourself killed." Still, there was a wicked smile on her lips: She knew who held the crown.

Abjaar was openly surprised by the woman's movements, and felt himself freeze up under her chilling touch. He felt a glimmer of fear, but as sizable a glimmer of excitement at her powerful display. When she returned to her normal position, he seemed to release some of the tension in his shoulders. It was at this point that he realised how easily the woman could kill him, and how easily she could get away with it: He would need to develop counter measures to such powerful abilities, if he were to ever achieve his ambitions…just as soon as he comprehended them.

When she made it obvious that she knew the answers to his questions, the fear seemed to be smothered by the excitement. Such information was powerful stuff: the sort of power that could help make or break his rise to power. If ever there was a time to back out, now would be it. "I am sure. I am ready to pay you in whatever favour you ask for this information."

With a sigh, Sarah unflinchingly speaks. Abjaar could almost swear he could feel a pair of icy eyes looking down on him, piercing his soul. "The crown was stolen by a rogueish dwarf who slew his two friends for it and blamed their deaths on the drow. He smuggled it in a bag specifically designed to repress the magical emanations of the artifact so none of the local mages would know where it went. He then brought it to his older brother, a merchant named Reyjvak the Wise, who intends to use it during the final battle against the Nine Hells. This is, supposedly, to ensure that the Drow, who revere spiders, won't hold back a potentially vital element in the fight... In short, it was stolen to ensure that it would be on your side." Her lips curl into a vicious grin. "So... Little man. My favour is quite simple... Ensure that Tina rises to power in the Free Holds. If you don't, or if you should forget... Then I'll be sure to sell your body to a cult when I'm done with its soul." She walks over to him and runs a finger over his lips. "Have fun Abjaar... Try not to let your greed get you killed so soon, I like my toys intact." With that said, she slips behind him, and if he looked back, he'd find that she disappeared without a trace.

Abjaar was left visibly shocked by the words of the assassin: both the information he'd desired and the favour she asked of him. How on earth could Sarah know so much of the details of what must have been a carefully guarded secret? How on earth could he use this information to his advantage? Why on earth did Sarah have a vested interest in Tina rises in rank? Such news was of great concern, and Abjaar cussed under his breath. He had been played like a fool, and deservedly so. This was information that he couldn't use to further his position with the Valsharess, as he had hoped: not in good conscience, anyway. No matter what he desired of himself, he wouldn't doom an entire civilization to the wrathful vengeance of the drow in order to sate it.

He turned to speak out to the assassin, and saw that she had somehow vanished. He exhaled heavily, suddenly with the very real desire for a drink. Instead, he made his way over to one of the other women he dreaded: his boss. He didn't feel like disturbing Queen Kouri, because Abjaar suspected the woman would hate him by his reputation alone. Instead, he sought out Queen Alexandria. The second Queen of Renalta was known to have once been a pirate, and while it was likely she would still hate his guts, it was also more likely that she would at least be open to the idea of dealing with him. He made his way towards the Werewolf Queen.

Alexandria was standing near Kouri and turns to face Abjaar as he approaches. She narrows her look, not sharing the friendly political masquerade her wife used. "Make it quick, Abjaar. I'm very busy."
"I need to speak with you in private. I understand I am not liked, but it is of a certain...delicacy." Abjaar was notably a bit bent out of shape. The tension in his body language was obvious, and his eyes seemed to scream out the frustration he had balled up in his stomach. He didn't like the position he was in right now: He had been played, and he was having to do the right thing. Perhaps he could extract some sort of benefit from the situation: salvaging his reputation with the Queens would be a good start.
Alexandria motions to a nearby hallway, away from the throne room. Leading the way there, she looks back at him, a little more concern in her eyes for what he had to say, but with the remaining, unmistakable distaste for him as a person. "Alright. Speak your mind."

Abjaar cleared his throat a little as he looked around the hallway, so as to make sure there was no one that might overhear them. He paid particular attention to any spiders that might be around: not trusting anything that might lead the information back to the Drow. "As much as I know I am disliked around here, I hope that what I'm about to say proves that I have the desire to do some good among the Queen's Blades. I know who stole the crown in the Underdark. I won the information from Sarah Darkhammer, how she knows it I don't know. It was…" he pauses for the moment, looking around again. Not willing to take any chances, he leans in close to the werewolf queen, and begins to whisper. "The younger brother of a dwarf named Reyjvak the Wise. He is apparently on our side, and stole the crown so that the Drow would not be able to hold back spiders in the battle against the Nine Hells." He takes a step back, painfully aware that the Queen would probably abject to him being close to her. "I would recommend we try and make contact with the culprit, discreetly of course. I could attempt to meet him during the Underdark mission, if it pleases the Queens."

Alex stands surprised for a moment by the generosity shown by Abjaar. Sarah Darkhammer was the only name she needed to know in this discussion, but still... "We will send King's Rangers to handle that. You deal with international requests." Alex states bluntly, without subtlty that there was still no trust between them. "Thank you." Her tone was somewhat softer, and she did look a little less tense. "I don't know what price you will pay for this, but my wife will know what you did."

"It is clearly all this Renaltan air. It must take the scum right out of me." He chuckles lightly as he turns to walk past the Queen, already aware that she would likely have no more to say to him. A part of him was wondering how much of the jest she actually thought was truth. Did it really surprise her that a slaver saw the value in other people's lives? Did she suspect that he would have sold out the entire Dwarven people, and the entire alliance that the group was trying to repair, in order to get a slither of personal power? Even if he had gone to the Valsharess, what was he guaranteed: A pat on the back? A few gold coins? An amorous meeting of flesh? He hoped that this would at least let the Queens know that he didn't intend to stab them in the back at the first opportunity of power. "May the wind blow in our favour, Queen Alexandria. Gone gods know that I'm going to need some luck." With nothing else to be said by either party, Abjaar made his way back to the party, where he soon rediscovered his tattered mug.

 

[Kestrel]

Abjaar & Esyllt
The Chains That Bind Us​

---

The day after the Diplomatic meeting, Abjaar had taken to the training halls of Renalta Castle in an effort to work out some of the previous evening's stresses. He had his fair share of successes and failures in the diplomatic arena, although none shined quite as brightly as his meeting with Rashad. He had donned his impressive platemail in an attempt to give his muscles a good workout, with the addition of a few more weights strapped to his arms. The swing of his Broad axe through the air was still as swift and as deadly as any normal man might aspire to achieve, which made the weight on his limbs all the more impressive.

He was focusing his attention on a single wooden man, slamming the axe head against various points that might represent the vital areas. He focused mostly on the neck and the chest, it seemed, and deep gouges had formed in the wood. All the while, his mind wandered on the events of the night before, making him appear distracted and distant, despite the speed and strength of the martial display.

Esyllt, weary of her nights in the extra planar laboratory, found herself in the training halls as well. Circles had formed below her eyes, but she could not sleep. Not after what she'd done. Esyllt did not deserve rest just yet. She had to be in the best shape she could be for their next mission. As she had focused to sharpen her magical talent, days of inactivity had dulled her sword arm. That would not do, Esyllt could not solely rely on her magical talent. Such a miscalculation had killed Naraem. Any mage without the ability to at least defend themselves, were - although it pained her to say so, liabilities in disadvantageous combat. So Esyllt took it upon her to, at the very least, keep herself in shape.

"Excuse me," She began, approaching a well-built, armoured man who was swinging his axe. Something about him seemed to lack focus, and seeing how he was fighting a dummy, Esyllt could hardly blame him. Everyone within these castle walls had something on their mind.

"Are you perhaps in need of a sparring partner, milord?" She asked, making the assumption by the look of the well-crafted armour. "We cannot let our blades dull in times of turmoil, can we? My name is Esyllt Boudica, knight of Edmundal and one of the queen's blades."She made a short bow. "I could use the exercise."

Abjaar turned, much to his surprise, to see a rather attractive woman ask him to spar with her. He noted the armour that hid her form rather well, and smiled broadly at the newfound distraction. "Esyllt Boudica, I would be honoured to spar with you. My name is Abjaar, newer member of the Queen's Blades. It will be a privilege of mine to help you keep your sword arm in shape."

He suddenly turned his back to the woman as he buried the axe head into the wooden dummy's 'skull.' The blow dug deep into the wood, hacking down the head and half way into the chest cavity, before Abjaar released the handle of the axe. He started to pull at the cords of the weights tied to his arms. "You will have to forgive me, but I do not recognise the name Edmundal. Where is it you hail from?" It seems he was hoping to make small talk while he undid the cords of his weights: he had to admit, the woman fascinated him already...Something mysterious surrounded the armoured figure, as if she hid something fascinating.

"I hail from Renalta," Esyllt prepared a battle stance. She brought up her shield, and bent her knees slightly. She did not know what for the man had displayed the strength of his axe, but she had best be prepared for it. "Edmundal is a city bordering Liveria. I represent it's lord, I serve the royal family in his stead. May I ask whom you represent, lord Abjaar?"

Abjaar finishes plucking at the first weight's cords, letting the heavy slab of metal fall to the floor with a resounding 'thunk.' The weights were heavier than most weapons, and he constantly trained with them, to strengthen his body. They had worked well, it seems, as he had already felt his muscles strengthen and his bones become stronger since adopting the training regime. "In truth, I represent no one except the queens and myself. Some might argue that I represent the Free Holds, for that is where I hail from. I would like to imagine myself...separate from the current Warlords." He pulled on the cord of the second weight, and felt the satisfying relief of his arms being released from their burden.

"Perfect. Shall we procure some practice weapons?" He indicated towards a nearby weapon rack, where blunted weapons were prepared, ready for sparring. "If you don't mind my intrusion, I can't help but notice the rings around your eyes. Does something keep you awake at night? It would be unfitting if a Queen's Blade became ill, would it not?" Abjaar began to walk towards the weapons rack, plucking for himself a large axe and for her, a sword of roughly the same shape as the one she held. Smiling, he lobbed it in her direction, gently enough that it didn't spin out of control in the air.

Esyllt caught the dummy blade by the handle, though barely. She was a little slow to respond. "Do not worry about my health, Abjaar." She put up a polite smile. "I would not allow myself to be a burden."

The weight of a sword in her hand told Esyllt otherwise, however. The lack of exercise and the stress were taking their tolls. She closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. The past nights had gotten into her shoulders, so she rolled them. Her muscles felt somewhat stiff regardless… But that was exactly why she was here.

Esyllt waited for Abjaar to prepare himself. Once he stood before her, Esyllt made a short bow, then raised the blade. "En garde." Esyllt opened. She jabbed, attempting to shortly bring the tip of the blunt blade to the larger man's shoulder. From his earlier blows against the dummy, Esyllt assumed the man was a dominant right. She pulled back her blade and instinctively raised her shield up; it's brunt between Esyllt and a possible counter-attack.

Abjaar noticed the sluggishness behind the woman's actions, and for a moment he thought about calling off the sparring match. In the end, he decided to hold his tongue. It would be disrespectful for him to deny the woman her right to the battle, and he was eager to see what she could really do. Watching her short bow left a smile on Abjaar's face. "If only every fight would begin in such a way." He took a moment to bow his head to the woman, before gripping the haft of the axe in his right hand, leaving his left arm free.

Watching Esyllt open was enough to dispel Abjaar's worry about her condition. She was measured in her movements, even if they were naturally quite conservative. He bashed the blade aside with the head of the axe, before spinning around to lash back at the woman with a powerful swipe from the right side. He aimed for her shield, more than anywhere else: he wanted to test her guard against his strength. A part of him longed for the chains that would normally be wrapped around his left arm, as they often made matches against sturdy opponents much easier.

Abjaar's strength was no joke, as his weapon clashed with her shield, Esyllt was put off balance. The aftermath of the blow sent a tremor through her arm. Esyllt quickly stepped back, hoping to avoid a second strike and regain her footing. He was skilled enough to deflect blows with an axe and quick enough to retaliate. "You have a good arm." She complimented Abjaar, as Esyllt lowered her stance. The man was taller than her, and it was clear this wasn't a match she could win by strength. Though perhaps she could compensate, if she forced him to swing lower.

Abjaar watched his opponent readjust herself, and noted the skill in which she maneouvered and tried to counteract his physical advantages. "And you have a good eye." He paused for a moment to consider his next move, when a plan formed in his head.

He suddenly began to rush forward, a quick sprinting burst with his axe held at his side. He hoped to shock her a little with his burst of speed, all in the hopes of putting her on the defensive and buying him another second. As soon as he was in range, he lashed out; not with his axe, but with a firm boot, planted into the shield. She was aiming to keep her body weight low, so he would punish her likely uneven footing and attempt to bring her to the floor. Either way, he'd quickly follow up with an overhead swing: either he'd challenge her defence again, or he'd capitalize on her being off balance. Either move seemed a good one for him: knight-types rarely responded well to such unorthodox maneuvers.

The man fought like a bandit. Fortunately that was the one kind of opponent she had experience against. Esyllt allowed herself to be pushed back, denying Abjaar his follow-up. After taking the brunt of the boot, Esyllt pushed her shield side-way and with a quick step forward positioned herself to Abjaar's side. She turned as quickly as she could, hoping to make use of the opening to turn the ties as she stabbed at Abjaar's stomach. It was not a powerful blow, in her haste, but it might just take her off the defensive.

Abjaar was surprised at the way she reacted to his offensive, and he was left in a rather impossible to defend position; axe held over his head and balance completely off. He could only twist his body sharply to the left and graze past the blade, a sharp grinding sound ringing through the training hall as the blade shaved the stomach region of his platemail.

Abjaar took a few steps past Esyllt, turning rapidly to keep his eyes on the woman as he grinned a broad, almost savage grin. "I didn't realise how much I needed this. It seems I'm a little rusty when it comes to fighting truly competent opponents."

Gripping his axe, Abjaar started to slowly stalk towards Esyllt, measuring the opponent with a sort of care that highlighted the respect he was showing her. She fought smart and she had good vision: A natural born defender. If he wasn't careful, he would earn himself a bad reputation as a fighter, as well as a person.

When he was just in reach of the woman, Abjaar jabbed forward with the flat top of his axe, bashing it against her shield before lashing out with a vicious left hook, aiming for her kidney area. He hoped to overwhelm her defence by forcing her to block his bash with her shield and sneak a blow into her side from the left. Once again, he felt the lacking of his lashes.

It seemed her opponent wasn't averse to measuring her up either. Esyllt tried to circle and stay in an advantageous position, but Abjaar's footwork was calculated also. A quick jab from the axe had Esyllt instinctively raise her shield, though it had not the power of his earlier strike. Before she could grasp his next move, Abjaar was already in her face. Esyllt had no time to swing or dodge, so quickly bashed her shield forward, before Abjaar's gauntlet gutted her.

Esyllt flinched when she felt the blow connect, it had been a while she had to take a punch. She hoped her shield bash had managed to create some distance between the two again, because if this came to wrestling, she'd be no match.

Abjaar allowed himself to be pushed back by the shield shoving against his axe. He could see that the punch had caused her to flinch, but her armour had absorbed the brunt of the blow. It was to be expected, really: the blow had been mostly for show's sake. He didn't have the strength to punch a dent into plate armour, but he had hoped to knock her off balance. "You've got some decent experience under your belt. Most knight types don't do well against less 'honourable' tactics." Abjaar spun the axe haft around in his grip, keeping a distance to Esyllt while he slowly circled the woman. It seemed that he was going to hold off attacking for a moment: He wanted to see how she did when she was forced to play the aggressor.

"Thank you," Esyllt caught her breath, counting her blessings that Abjaar hadn't decided to finish the match. "Before I came into the queens' service, it was part of my duty to rout bandits." She said, matching Abjaar's footwork. "Although those scoundrels wielded nothing like your axe."

When Esyllt realised Abjaar wouldn't make the next move, their dance continued, as Esyllt took her time planning her next move. A skilled opponent, with the strength of a bear and the will to use it against her. Esyllt knew her training in and of itself wouldn't be enough. A little test of the man's patience would have to do, she waited with her attack, trying to vie for a better position. Until suddenly, she stepped forwards, seemingly lunge at the man's right shoulder again. This time however, it was a feint, and Esyllt quickly retreated her blade in anticipation for Abjaar's reaction; and act accordingly.

Abjaar nodded in thanks for the compliment, ignoring the fact that she likened his style to that of bandits.It was her attack that interested him the most: a repeat of the first maneouver. Instead of trying to bash aside the attack like last time, Abjaar stepped forward, hoping to step inside the attack. Instead, she revealed her hand as attempting a feint, and Abjaar saw an opportunity. He continued to push forward, jabbing forward with his axe and aiming to intentionally miss the opponent's defence. Then, with a sudden force, he dragged his axe back, attempting to hook his axe's head behind the woman's shield and drag her towards him, where he could grapple with the woman and end the battle.

It seemed her positions had been reset, at least for a single moment. Again Abjaar brought his axe forward. Seeing no opportunity to avoid, Esyllt brought her shield forward in hope to unbalance him by redirecting the momentum of the axe. However, Abjaar's move was not so simple.Like a fishing hook, he'd caught onto her shield and now reeled her in. If she were to let him, that would be it. Without taking the time to think it over, she murmured an incantation that caused the shield's edge to come off along with the axe. She had manipulated it's structure to crack, and with the sudden change in force, Esyllt had bought the second she needed to raise her sword and strike at Abjaar's hip.

With the sudden disconnection of his axe from Esyllt's shield, Abjaar was reeling backwards, off balance and completely off guard. He managed to raise his arm-guard up to bash the sword strike away, but he reeled backwards a few more steps before turning to face the woman, a surprised expression plastered over his face. "You're a mage? I was not expecting that!" He quickly burst into a chuckle at the seemingly hilarious situation. "You fight well for someone who can use magic. It makes sense why you fight so defensively now. What other magics can you do?" It seemed that Abjaar had almost forgotten about the match in his sudden flurry of interest. He had not met a magic user who fought so well before: Esyllt suddenly captured Abjaar's interest even more than before. She was utterly unique to him, and that was more than enough to make him lose interest in the spar...for now.

"I apologise, I acted in the moment." Esyllt replied. She was quite relieved Abjaar took it well. After all, she had not meant to hide her ability. Although the sudden interest brought her somewhat in embarrassment. Esyllt was a mage, yes, but she was not proud of her ability at all. She picked up the chunk that had been chipped off her shield and attached the part to where it'd originally been. Once more, she chanted a spell and seconds later, the shield was complete again. As if it were fresh from the forge.

"There are a few schools I dabble in, but that is neither here nor there." Esyllt asserted herself. "Were we not sparring? There will be time for conversation later."

Abjaar was a little disappointed by the coy nature of his opponent. He was interested in what she could do, but he had an obligation to complete the spar. "I'll hold you to that. If I win, I expect you to show me what magic you can do." He was grinning with excitement now. The statement was less of a demand, and more a statement of desire.

"Here we go again, then." Abjaar stepped forward, lifting his axe overhead to try and indicate an overhead chop, but he revealed it to be a feint when he spun his entire body around and swung out a vicious side swipe. There was a lot more strength in this blow than the last time he'd spun like this...He had a reason to end the sparring session now.

Esyllt brought her shield up just in time to react, but her defence stood no chance against the force of Abjaar's axe. She spun, unable to keep her footing and fell to the ground. A split second after hitting the ground, Esyllt realised the consequence of the hit. When she tried to push herself up, pain surged through her forearm; it was in shambles. Esyllt gritted her teeth. She had but one option. Abjaar wanted to see more of her magic, and he would. She rolled sideways, and briefly put the fingers of her other arm on her gauntlet. A small chamber formed within the iron, and then in the blink of an eye; a small rift appeared in the air around her hand. A small red stone dropped from it, which Esyllt placed within the chamber she'd just made and sealed it off with a final spell. If Abjaar was familiar with the workings of magic, he'd soon realise that the animated piece of armour was a trick of golemancy. Now with two strong arms once more, Esyllt pushed herself back onto her feet. Albeit rather clumsily, as the strength of her golemancy infused arm was out of proportion to what she normally had. Her own arm inside the armour was feeling limp. Esyllt knew she should not block a blow that powerful anymore. The spell allowed her to move her arm, but not heal it.

Esyllt swapped the blade into her left hand, forgoing her shield. It was a risky manoeuvre, but perhaps she could surprise Abjaar. She stepped forward, utilising a backswing. The blow would have far more power behind it than Esyllt's posture seemed physically capable off. Although the swordsmanship of the golem-arm was hardly as refined as Esyllt's own.

Abjaar grimaced as he noted the way that Esyllt twisted away from the blow. It looked like she had possibly hurt herself, but he wasn't 100% sure. What came next was...unexpected. Esyllt seemed to access some sort of strange magic, and soon a rift was hanging over Esyllt's hand, dropping a red stone into a whole she'd made in her damaged arm's gauntlet. After putting the gem into her gauntlet, Esyllt's arm seemed different. Her movements changed around the arm, and her weapon was suddenly in the opposite hand to the hand she'd been using the entire fight thus far. Something was vastly different, and Abjaar wasn't sure what to think.

Quickly enough, Esyllt discarded her shield, and moved in for the attack. A part of him wanted to play defensive and safe: but the sparring match had proven to be fun! She was challenging him right now, with whatever had magical enchantment she had put upon herself. It was only fair that he meet the challenge head on. He saw her swinging sword, and swung his axe to meet hers. He trusted his strength, and his anti-magic to stop anything that might affect him as a result of the clash. He cared less about winning now, and more about just enjoying the fight. He had not been able to truly enjoy a fight in a long time: For years now, he had fought to survive only. He was either having to fight those that would kill him for his heritage, or fight those who would kill him for their freedom. To be able to fight with a smile on his face was something that, unknowingly perhaps, he had longed for.

One way or the other, this blow would be the last of the battle: that he was sure of.

The clash of the sheer strength behind Abjaar's axe and Esyllt's animated arm was too much for the training weapons to handle. After a brief contest, the sword gave in. The blade split in two and the top half flew through the training hall, ricocheting off a wall before finally coming to a halt. Bewildered, Esyllt gaped at the result. This was the first time she had used such a technique, but she had not realised how unwieldy such power was… Though, strictly speaking she was lucky. Had the weapon not broken, her arm would surely have felt the consequences.

"I-I, believe this would be time to yield." Esyllt stammered, "Lest we break more than just the equipment."

Abjaar couldn't help but stare in disbelief as the training axe in his hand shattered into pieces. Shards of iron clattered against his armour, and he was left dumbstruck for a moment, before he burst out into a great, booming laugh. "Fantastic! What a fight that was, Esyllt Boudica, of Edmundal. We shall have to do this again, some time. I have not had such fun in a long time!" With a broad smile on his face, he took a step closer to Esyllt and offered his hand to shake. "Whatever magic it is you wield, it is amazing! I am a little jealous of your talent: It is no wonder the Queens have recruited you. All I can do is hit things."

"Do not sell yourself short, Abjaar. Your skill is admirable." Esyllt replied, feeling the workings of it in her left arm still. "It was an honour to spar with you, but I believe I would best find someone to take a look at my arm. We took this match quite seriously."

Though, before leaving the training halls, Esyllt took care of another matter. She began collecting the pieces of the training weapons, hoping to put them back together in their original state. Though, there were quite a few scraps of iron laying about.

Noticing that Esyllt was collecting the scraps of training weapon, Abjaar began to assist by grabbing whatever shards were close to him. In truth, he was not exactly satisfied with knowing so little about the woman. "I admit, I got perhaps a bit carried away. It has been far too long since I've enjoyed a spar like that. Not since I used to spar with my brother."

He shrugged away the inevitable memories of a much easier halcyon days. They had no place in his current life. "I admit, I am still trying to figure out what magic you call your own. Since we are now picking up broken shards of metal, I'm guessing it has something to do with transmutation? Maybe you are some sort of...Forge wizard? I don't know the dynamics very well. Am I at least close?"

"I practice golemancy." Esyllt answered, showing her arm move. "A magic that animates the inanimate to it's caster's will. To manipulate the shape of simple objects is a basic technique for golemancers. Our creations do not come into existence naturally."

Once they'd collected the pieces, Esyllt showed off it's workings once more. Both the dummy sword and axe were reforged, as she melted the iron back together. "Thank you for your help, Abjaar." She said, as she placed both training weapons back into their racks. Times like these Esyllt felt a little fortunate to possess her talents, as it would be rude to just leave the equipment, so generously supplied by the Renaltian house, in shambles.

"I must see the infirmary now, but if you would please, I would like to hear more about yourself, lord Abjaar." Esyllt had to admit, she was a little curious. The man had not denied his title, yet he'd offered a hand into collecting the pieces himself. Esyllt, a knight of common birth, found that a rare sight in a lordling.

"If you would walk with me, perhaps you can tell me a little more about yourself. What brings you to the Queen's Blades? I believe you mentioned you represent yourself."

Abjaar walked over to the training dummy he had first been practicing on, where the Bull still rested, buried deep into the wood. Gripping the handle of the Axe, Abjaar pulled the axe free from the dummy, which he quickly flipped so the axe's head was touching the ground. It was the least threatening pose he could leave it in, as he walked beside Esyllt. "It would be my honour. The least I can do after injuring you so."

Abjaar waited for Esyllt to lead, mostly because he ill-knew the direction to the castle's infirmary. "As for my purpose in the Queen's Blades, I fear my reasons are less pure than most. The Blades offer me a route to power: personal strength, political allies and perhaps even renown enough that I might establish myself a home again. It would be wrong for me to call myself a lord now, but my line was once one of... nobility: I would reclaim some of that prestige."

"To rekindle one's family name is not impure." Esyllt replied. Her own family name was hidden from the records. Only a select few knew the legacy of her father, one she had only been made privy to later in life. Even if the protection and lessons given to her were a blessing, not to even mention the knighting on top, part of Esyllt would oft think of her part. She did not aim to make it into a bard's repertoire herself, but she at least hoped to do enough good not become history's dirty little secret. It was a grim thought, that she continued the experiments of Naraem and her father. Golemancy and necromancy were unholy magics, but they were all she had discovered her talents in…

Esyllt lead the way through the castle halls. Before their last mission, she'd made herself familiar with the layout. Through the corridors and stairwells, the guest rooms and kitchens, Esyllt had familiarised herself with what was below her temporary roof. Although the infirmary was hardly far from the training halls.

"You hail from the Free Holds, I believe you mentioned, lord Abjaar." Esyllt began. She still knew little of the world outside, barely even still grasping the world of the Amazons. She had heard of the Free Holds of course, especially loudly in one conversation with Xixis, the king of the Goblin Holds. The goblin king had spoken with much disdain about the Free Holds, condemning them for slaving his people. Yet Abjaar had mentioned something peculiar. "May I ask why it is you represent yourself instead of your country?"

"I represent myself because I have no particular loyalty to my country. It could be a great land, but everyone who would make themselves lord is either petty or without vision. They squabble and prattle on about the small wealth of their holds, and it has made the Free Holds weak. I tried to make my case to Rashad last night, but he shot me down and tried to force me into the old ways. I reject the old ways, and I reject representing the Free Holds." There was a darker tone to Abjaar's words, a mix of anger, bitterness and...sadness? It was hard to say, contrasted with the other, more intense emotions.

"Allow me to ask you a question, lady Esyllt. Your Golemancy is amazing, but it occurs to me that you must power these constructs some way or the other. You plucked some red gem from the aether, to power whatever mechanation was on your hand: Why? What extra power does the gem provide? What source is it from? And where did you pluck it from in the first place? I can't imagine that a mage could so easily pluck a gem from naught, or teleport it through the vast unknowns."

Esyllt felt his home was a difficult subject for Abjaar. Truly, she lacked the knowledge to converse about it herself. Even if she was curious. Instead, she first answered Abjaar's question. Albeit somewhat cryptically. "The inanimate requires a small source of life to move. Without will, there is no golemancy." She explained, "These gems are no more than a resource to move that which would not without. Where it is plucked from, is a more difficult question to answer. It is a magic of my own. A space within this world accessible to me and no one else. It is a storage magic, allowing me to travel light regardless of what resources I require."

Esyllt waited a little, pondering how to phrase her next words. "The stairwell here, to the left," She directed Abjaar who she'd come to walk beside. "What vision do you hold for the future, lord Abjaar? We seem to be living in a time where change is commonday. In our Renalta at least. What future do you envision for the Free Holds?"

"Now isn't that a complex question? One of those questions is much easier to answer than another, I will admit." Abjaar reached his spare hand up to gently stroke the trimmed beard on his chin. He was being honest, in how difficult it was to answer the question, because he wasn't sure if it could possibly work. "I will make you a deal: I will answer one of your questions, and you will answer one of mine. That is the way that those from the Free Holds like to do things: Profit and trade above all else." He smiled at the woman, wondering if she would take his bait. He had a question he was keen to ask her, but she might avoid it if she didn't lock herself into a promise.

Esyllt was wary, admittedly. She felt not at comfort. "I apologise if I've offended you." She stated, not too keen on entering a deal to exchange secrets. "If my questions bear too heavily, I would retract them just as easily."

"No, no. The questions don't weigh heavily upon me, it just happens that my answers are...controversial. I would not share the information lightly. Perhaps I am being unfair, but I simply want to ensure that you give me something for information I might otherwise be a bit more reluctant to share."

"I understand," Esyllt answered. Abjaar tickled her curiosity, but she herself was reluctant to answer just any question. It would be generous to her own answers to some of them to be called controversial. And now she was not sure if she wanted to know the answers, if they were anything like their own. She had taken a liking to Abjaar. "We may fight for the same cause, but we have only just met, after all."

Upon arriving the infirmary, Esyllt hesitated in front of the door. She took the red gem from her gauntlet before entering and stored it back in her pocket dimension. When they did open the door, Esyllt was quickly helped. The local doctor requested Esyllt to sit and after removing the armour, felt her wrist and pressured it (to Esyllt's discomfort) to see where it hurt. Esyllt groaned as the man pushed his thumbs, but soon was relieved to hear it was not broken - A consequence she had feared.

"I believe I will be alright." She told Abjaar, with a polite smile. "Now that we're here, is there anything you would need to check out? It would not do to have a warrior such as yourself in anything but his best condition."

Abjaar nodded in appreciation for Esyllt's understanding. In truth, he was a little sad to hear that Esyllt would be hushing up on some of her more interesting secrets, but he hardly had the right to complain. It was his desire for more that had caused her to clam up, even if he had kept his more controversial vision for the Free Holds a secret.

When asked if he needed anything checked out, Abjaar shook his head. "I am a healthy enough man. A small bruise on my stomach and my arm, at best. My armour did its job well, thankfully."

"It is small injuries that sometimes come to haunt us." Esyllt spoke more freely, since she'd heard of Abjaar's position. "It will be no harm to have them checked out."

Abjaar sighed at the woman's concerns. They made sense, even if they were troublesome. "Very well." Without much ado, Abjaar quickly tugged at the trappings of his plate mail, unbuckling leather straps and various buckles until the cumbersome plate mail cuirass was laid on the flood carefully. Next, he took off the woolen undershirt and revealed his chest: light olive skin knotted with various slight scars made up the canvas for the warrior's well toned body. Every muscle seemed oversized on the man's body, to the point of physical peak perfection. Truth be told, few were as well maintained as Abjaar was.

His chest, aside from some minor redness, was perfectly fine. He had dodged the bulk of the blow. It was his arm that demanded a slight bit more attention. A purple blotch marred his skin, where the full brunt of Esyllt's blow had connected with his arm guard. The doctor quickly examined it, and waved it off as nothing but superficial damage. "Are you happy now, Lady Esyllt?" He offered a wry smile, as he turned to the woman seemingly uncaring for his bared chest.

That, Esyllt was. "Yes, I am pleased to see you are fine." She nodded, trying to maintain eye contact. Though her eyes had trouble not wandering off to the bruises. Abjaar might had been forceful, but it seemed to have had rubbed off on Esyllt as well. It seemed Abjaar was no stranger to injury, Esyllt noticed from the scarred tissue on his chest, and with his unorthodox fighting style, it dawned upon Esyllt that Abjaar had seen a lot more of war than she had.

"Well then, is there anything else you would like to ask me? I'll give you one more free question: so as to whet the interest you might have in me." He chuckled, reaching down and picking up his shirt, only to sling it over his shoulder like a rag. He scooped up the steel cuirass and held it, rather effortlessly, under one arm.

"May I ask what life is like, where you come from, lord Abjaar?" Esyllt settled on a question after brief thought. "Before I joined the Queen's Blades, I had never set foot out of the highlands. Not ever had I seen even all Renalta had to offer. Lord Abjaar, would you care to sometime share stories about your homeland?"

Abjaar smiled. He briefly contemplated toning down the truth about the Free-Holds, but he knew that the lie would be found out at some time. "In all things, the Free-Holds hold profit above all else. There is no unified government or monarchy, and each large city-hold is ruled by an individual Warlord. They pursue profit however they may, all Warlords agreeing to leave the others alone. Warlords are transmutable though, and are replaced often by the most ambitious, the most powerful or the most charismatic. The main trades are slavery, mercenary work and other, lesser trading. It is a place vastly different to the kingdoms you might know: ruled by treachery, where your kin might attempt to kill you for a perceived threat."

He cleared his throat slightly, trying to make it obvious he was done. "Is there anything else you would like to know about my homeland?"

Although Abjaar's description rhymed with what Xixis had told her, Esyllt was still a little taken aback. Both her sparring partner and the goblin king let it be known the Free Holds were a nation of slavers and sellswords. Esyllt found it hard to phantom, still. It would not be the last time such a story would have her perplexed either.

"I think I understand why you would not represent the Free Holds." Esyllt mentioned. Surely, the man fought like a brute and his the autographs of his opponents were signed into his skin, but Abjaar did not strike Esyllt a dishonest man. "You said you seek to reinstate your family name, and seek alliances outside of your homeland. Abjaar… After all this is over, do you seek to change the Free Holds as they are now?"

"I think you overestimate me somewhat, Esyllt. Let me pose you a question: If the main form of business in the Free-Holds are slaves and mercenaries, and my family was once a noble house: what would that make me?" He let out a laboured sigh, rubbing his beard with his free right hand. "If the opportunity arises, I would change the Free-Holds. In the same light, I would also wash my hands of that desolate 'scape, if I had the opportunity to make myself and my family name a mighty one in another country."

Then, Abjaar belonged to a family of mercenaries and slavers as well? She found it difficult to imagine that he was the kind of man the Goblin King spited so. They shared a few similarities, even, though Abjaar was more refined in his manners.

"That would make you-" Esyllt didn't finish her sentence. Was that the controversy Abjaar had spoken of? It fueled Esyllt's curiosity, though her feelings on the matter she could not grasp. Esyllt knew little of slavery, other than the core concept and a certain green race' distaste for chains.

"I see." Esyllt composed herself. She dared look straight at Abjaar's face. It was no lie… And her ancestral past was not without it's sins either. He might not had spoken freely of it, but the hint was strong enough. And yet he stood there, with some desire to change all of that. To get away from the past that had given him and his name such scars.

"Abjaar, about your question earlier." Esyllt began, hesitating a moment to say what she was about to say. "I cannot promise to answer it, but I would at least hear it."

Abjaar was...pleasantly surprised by the understanding the woman seemed to show, upon comprehension of his past. It seemed that he might have found another ally in the Blades. "It is merely something I noticed about what you said: that your golems require a 'small source of life.' My question is this: Where does this life come from?"

Esyllt sighed. She should had expected that question. Reluctantly, she avoided eye contact with Abjaar. "When… Wars are fought, soldiers pledge their arms and their lives to the sides they represent. Golems were first constructed as instruments of war. To fuel them, some men paid their debts early."

Esyllt still could not face Abjaar when she spoke to him. The arts she had learned were toying with lives, much like slavery did. Only just as she answered the man, Esyllt realised the similarity. Especially given her latest attempts… Though she had still not finished it's construction. Part of her wanted to ask Abjaar if his slaves wailed as the Amazon warrior, as he worked them, but she swallowed the thought. That was not something she could.

"So you make use of the resources around you: In my mind, there is nothing to be so ashamed of that you cannot look at me." Abjaar keeps looking at Esyllt, unperturbed by the shame that the knightess held. "If you ask me, I would rather be kept alive in a golem's body then left to rot in a broken, useless body." He pauses, before nudging the woman's shoulder with his knuckle. "Although, I think I'd rather keep this one, all things considered." He chuckles lightly, trying to bring some mirth to the woman's gloomy mood.

"It's not a magic I am proud of," Esyllt protested. She rubbed her shoulder-plate as if dusting it off. "It's a power I need to defend what is dear to me. Too many have fallen in the short time this has began."

It wasn't that Esyllt did not understand Abjaar's words, but if her feelings were swayed so easily, they would have a long time ago. She did not like speaking of lives as resources, even if that was exactly what she used them for. Moreso, since she had inherited Naraem's laboratory… Although little of what contents that keep held still looked anywhere near human. It was this use of people's lives that kept her up at night… As the haunting feelings of Tasha made her doubt her sanity.

"Come," Esyllt gestured, shortly after bidding farewell to the doctor and leaving the infirmary. "Let us not dwell on these subjects. There must be something else we can speak of. A brighter future, perhaps." Though she did not say it, that was something she needed desperately. A good conversation. A new friendship. A reason to keep doing as she did.

"Lead on then, lady Esyllt. Show me to the next location, I am ready for whatever adventure may come." He put down the armoured cuirass and quickly slung on his shirt, before finally slipping back into the armoured cuirass. He left it unbuckled and untied, which meant he was in no shape for another fight. Not that he should really be getting into one. It also happened to be a little more comfortable, being looser.

Esyllt leads down the stairwell, through the halls of the castle. The very same the night prior the diplomatic meeting had been. As was custom when receiving guests of such calibre, there had been plentiful refreshments and delicacies to serve the rulers of each world corner. It would not do for any host of such an event to do anything but prepare them in abundance. Last night had been no exception.

The kitchens were not far off from the rooms with the highest ceilings, "I was not present, last night." Esyllt said, as they passed the throne room. She greeted a servant going the other way, "I have been preoccupied in my… Studies of late. It is fortunate the staff has been so gracious, as to preserve me some of the banquet."

The pair entered the kitchens, where it seemed most chefs and staff were still working hard. After all, some of the guests had spent the night. "May I?" Esyllt touched the shoulder of a young woman cutting vegetables (with such speed one had to wonder how she still had all ten of her fingers.)

"Oh, lady Esyllt. Of course." The maid said, dropping the knife and skittering off a few blocks. She came back with two plates, filled with leftovers. Leftovers that'd were still worth ten days of sweat for the average working man. "'tis not much, I'm afraid. But you know those green things," The maid whispered, narrowing her eyes as she did. "I don't know why they let them in the castle. Some people should just dine in the stables."

"Thank you," Esyllt nodded, ignoring the maid's foul tongue.

"Not at all, not at all." The maid shook, before she got the knife back in her hand to do circus acts of cutting skill. "Anytime lady Esyllt, for the Queen's Blades."

Esyllt smiled, as she faced Abjaar. "There are some privileges to our position. She had been searching high and low for me this morning, just to make me this offer."

Abjaar looked at the plate of food with some surprise. He had partaken of small treats last night, this however, was a whole other matter. "It seems you have far more fans than me. I hope that I might make such an impression upon someone in the castle yet." He smiles, taking the plate from the woman and picking at a few grapes. "This food was delicious last night, maid. I don't know who I should thank, but please pass on Abjaar Korsair's greatest compliments. The work you people do is of the utmost respect and the highest of standards; even the day after the affair."

Abjaar begins to walk absent mindedly away from the maid, heading in the direction he knew of: A hallway which would lead to the gardens and then to the Queen's Blade's chambers. "So I feel I must ask: Have you heard about the missions being lobbied for? If so, who do you see being lent your blade?"

"I've not yet been briefed on them all." Esyllt said, as she caught up with Abjaar (leaving behind a giggling maid who, soon as Abjaar and Esyllt left the kitchens, did not know how quickly to drop her knife to start a rumour.) "However, my expertise would will it so I join the mission to the Goblin Holds. An army of golems threatens to fall within the hands of the demon faction. Besides… I feel I owe it's king my help. He has been most kind, but we were not able to spare any troops to come to his aid."

Esyllt sighed. In spite of the Blades their relative success, there were many losses to be cut. Upon her arrival, she had to hear of the tragedies that had become elsewhere. The Goblin Holds were one of them. Esyllt had not thought long of what to do, this mission was one she had to take.

"And yourself, sir Abjaar? What does the future hold for you? And tell me, how was the meeting of last night? None has been able to spare of more than just a few words yet."

Abjaar strokes his beard, contemplating the best way to summarize the night. It was a difficult one to answer, because his night would be dramatically different to say, the night of a servant or of a king. "It was...a strange time; oddly peaceful for such a cosmopolitan affair. There were Orcs, which surprised a lot of people, and there were Drow and Dwarves, who seem to be at ends. Other than that, the most important event seemed to be a tentative ceasefire between the Goblin Holds and the Free Holds."

He quickly plucks another grape from the plate, and pops it into his mouth before chewing and swallowing the tiny morsel with a smile on his face. "As for the missions, I am of the opinion that you are choosing one of the most important missions. For me, it is the Goblin Holds, Renalta, The Underdark, Teluria and the Amazon/Imperium missions which demand the most attention. I myself shall attend to the Underdark: I made a deal with the Valsharess to try and earn a favour. Perhaps one of my more daring stunts." He smirked at the joke, despite how serious a thing it was. One does not simply make idle promises to a woman as powerful as the Drow Queen.

Esyllt had little experience with the underdark, having heard but few tales about them from her friend. Even if, her newest accumulated treasures, all found their origin back in their lands one way or another. "What kind of person is the Valsharess?" Esyllt asked. "I know more of it's magic than it's intricacies, but I am certain they share a flair for the mysterious."

"She is one of the most frightening women I have ever met, and one of the most enticing." He reached for his plate, and plucked a small piece of meat off of the bone, before placing it into his mouth. Slowly, he thought back on the Drow Queen, before shaking away the thoughts of her. "What about the Goblin King? You say he has been good to you? How so?"

"King Xixis has taught me much of his country, it's people and it's creatures. He was kind enough to speak freely. Their culture is very different, but it is an honour for a woman of common birth to be spared a king's time, knowledge and kindness. Not once did he speak to me as anything but an equal." Esyllt answered, joyfully reminiscing of their meeting. It might not seem as big of a deal to a lord like Abjaar, but Esyllt truly felt blessed for her earlier conversation.

Abjaar chuckled openly at Esyllt's words, a broad smile on his face as he turned to her, still walking, although walking backwards, now. "You do yourself an injustice. You think yourself common, but you are a member of the Queen's Blades. Whether they like it or not, the leaders of the continent's various countries are dependent on us. You've already survived two missions: That makes you an important player in the political scene. Xixis' kindness is as much to his benefit as it is a reflection of his kindness."

Still chuckling, Abjaar turns back around, leading the pair to the main garden. It was a beautiful place indeed, and Abjaar had already visited the place a number of times. The desert did not hold such beauty. "I am fond of this place. Flowers are a rare thing in the deserts of my homeland, and yet here: they grow freely. I know a few merchants that would literally kill to have half of the selection of this place alone."

"My presence here is a reflection of my loyalty, sir Abjaar. I seek only to serve." Esyllt answered the man. On this front the two were very different, "I am not ambitious like yourself, if I can defend what I hold dear, I will be content. Politics are too much for someone like me."

Esyllt was not sure what to think about Abjaar's comments about Xixis. After all, at the time they'd done nothing for the Goblin King. It had hardly seemed an attempt to win her over. "I find the ways of the capital difficult, if I am honest. Many rely on my opinion, even if I am not asked. You discussed priority earlier… I could not speak out on such a subject. I am not taught, nor experienced in the ways of all these lands. It would be presumptuous of me to speak out on such matters."

Esyllt took a deep breath. How someone could so casually speak of the fate of the world with her was strange… Though in truth she wished she had such insight and confidence. She was more comfortable in armour than around the roundtable.

"I agree the flowers are lovely. Although I am just as curious about the sights the Free Holds have to offer. I may not be knowledgeable about the world out there, but I am curious."

"The sights of the Free Holds are more...man-made: Architecture, art, and perhaps a few more lascivious pleasures." Abjaar couldn't help but frown over some of the things Esyllt had said. They reminded him of the conversation he had shared with Aslo. "So this is what he meant."

Turning his back on the flowers and walking up to the Knightess, Abjaar put a hand on her shoulder, ignoring any protests she might share as he stared into her eyes and broke the silence. "Let me ask you something, Esyllt of the Queen's Blades: You say you have no ambition, yet you wish to protect what you hold dear; are you strong enough to do that yet? Can you defend your lands, your family, your home, your queens, your life, no, your soul against the threat of the Nine Hells, and against those that would claim your land as their own? Of course you cannot. No one person should be able to." His grip on her shoulder tightens, although it would be impossible to feel through the armour she wore, it was evident in the tight redness of his knuckles. "Every person here has ambition, even if they think they do not: They want to avenge a fallen love, or attain some lost glory, or perhaps they just want to defend what they hold dear. All of these things are dreams, at the moment: wisp-thin trails of dust in the face of a typhoon. You are here for more than your loyalty: You are here because the Queens think that you are strong, and can become stronger: strong enough to defy the forsaken gods, and strong enough to defy the nine hells. Strong enough that you might defend your home, even!"

He finally releases her shoulder, turning his back to her as he looks back at the flowers. "If you think any one of us is truly an expert in the lion's den of politics, you are wrong. Trust me, you did not miss a class on etiquette, or poise, or how to deal with politicians. I have made mistakes, and I have claimed triumphs. Last night alone, I pledged myself to help a person I do not trust, under threat of being killed and tortured, possibly in that order, by quite possibly the most dangerous woman in all the kingdoms! All for a snippet of information I can never repeat to anyone again. I did that, because I recognised and chased an opportunity."

Turning back to face Esyllt, Abjaar tries to offer a smile to the pretty woman. It was not the most confident of smiles: Even he was not foolish enough to fake confidence in the face of a threat made by Darkhammer. "I would give you this advice, Esyllt, and it is the last thing I will say on the matter. Do not fear opportunity, do not fear embarrassment, and do not fear politics. My father said something that sticks with me, to this day: Opportunities speak in whispers, not in warcries."

The man was not wrong, Esyllt had to admit. Even if she had no concept of how she could grow to defend her home by herself, the very circles underneath her eyes were proof of her desire to attain such a power.

"That sounds more like a warning." Esyllt managed a glimmer of a smile. "I hope there is truth in the trust put in me. I thank you for your vote of confidence, lord Abjaar." Even so, she still hardly felt as if politics were her kind of dance. "Perhaps ambitions happen, even if we do not pursue them."

Esyllt too, finally picked from the plates so generously provided by the maid. It was a strange conversation, and though she hardly felt comfortable with it, Abjaar's words were… Flattering in a strange way. "But be careful, lord Abjaar. I do know of gambling with life. Opportunity or no, it is not a practice to take lightly. Especially for a man who wishes to escape his past."

"Mortality is opportunity. As long as there is a threat of death, there is a reason to take an opportunity." He smiles, before snatching a grape and popping it into his life. "And to be clear, I don't want to escape my past: I want to conquer it."

Esyllt shook her head at the man's ignorance. "No, Abjaar, what I'm saying is… Come back alive."

Abjaar pauses for a moment, unsure of the women's intent. If he didn't know any better…

"I best do. I wouldn't want to disappoint such a pretty woman: Especially one who fights so well. Still, I must attend to something in the library. I am sorry for taking up so much of your time, Esyllt: although I would be lying if I said I would not happily do it again."

 

[Jorick]

Diplomatic Union Meeting - Zin and Crown-Prince Xavier Collab​

After hearing the requests announced to the Blades, Zin saw a rather glaring problem with the Liverian mission: even if the demon agent was dealt with, there could be no peace for Liveria unless the royal family and the orcs could come to some permanent accord. Simply eliminating the demonic influence would only return them to the state of constant fighting, leaving the Liverian military occupied at home with limited ability to assist other nations. If the orcs could be brought into the fold, however, then it would be a great boon to Liveria and the entire Diplomatic Union. It all hinged on one person, so she went to seek him out.

Zin found Crown-Prince Xavier near the banquet tables, where she also spotted the princess a short distance away. She felt certain that he would recognize her family name when she gave it at least, but there was no telling how much he might know of the specifics of her odd sort of exile, so the wisest course seemed to be to stick to formality. She approached him and curtseyed, managing the motion with grace despite the long years since she'd last done it. "Crown-Prince Xavier, I am Zinnarath Corsys and I am one of the Queen's Blades. I would like to discuss the Liverian request if you don't mind, particularly as it pertains to the orcs." As Zin spoke she looked at him directly, maintaining a proud bearing despite inner nervousness, letting him see her silver eyes and know her for a vampire. If he hadn't already been aware of her situation, she figured the eyes and all they meant would likely serve as an explanation of their own.

Looking directly at Zin, eye to eye, the Crown-Prince narrowed his look somewhat, and slightly tilted his head up as he stared unflinchingly. "Indeed?" He states sharply. The topic was obviously not a comfortable one. Perhaps because she was a vampire, perhaps because it was about the orcs. Perhaps a little of both. "What do you want to know?" Xavier states, curtly. It seemed there was yet still a measure of respect for the woman before him--despite the fact that she was not welcome in his presence--for being a Queen's Blade.

The response wasn't as openly hostile as Zin had expected, so she was easily able to maintain her composure. She found a measure of respect for Xavier meeting her eyes without wavering, since it was rather well known that some vampires could influence others through their gaze. "I will be blunt. I am concerned about what will happen to Liveria if the Queen's Blades help dispose of this demonic threat but nothing more is done. Peace, or even an alliance, between Liveria and the orcs seems a necessity at this point so that all resources can be turned to dealing with the greater threat of the demons. I want to know what terms you're willing to offer the orcs in exchange for peace."
​

Xavier raises an eyebrow. "How diplomatic of you, I'm surprised. Diplomacy seems to be a rare trait amongst your kind." Whether he implied Queen's Blades or Vampires was uncertain with his comment, but it made clear his thoughts on her either way. "Liveria will call a cease fire and do whatsoever is in its power to end the conflict without resorting to a loss of our way of life or the enslavement of our women, two things the orcs seem keen on doing to us."

Zin acknowledged the indirect compliment with a crooked smile and a nod; whichever kind he might be referring to, she would not have disagreed with the assessment. Too many people seemed to disregard the arts of diplomacy these days, but she had no intention of becoming one of them. "That is reassuring. However, I cannot help but wonder whether that reasonable stance is held by other Liverians. Surely the long history of fighting and mutual distaste will leave some scars. I intend no insult to you or your abilities, but peace built on the simple basis of the Crown-Prince agreeing to be peaceful does not seem like something that will sit well with those who have lost loved ones to the conflict. She arched a brow at him, implying but not asking the obvious question of what he intended to do about that.

The Crown-Prince places his hands behind his back, speaking with a tone that implied he shared a little concern, despite what he was saying. "My people are wise enough to know that so long as I preserve our way of life, peace is preferable to conflict. Even with the orcs... We don't have to like them, but so long as they stay away from us, we needn't care, do we?"

"Indeed, but people have this irksome habit of caring a great deal about things which they needn't care about at all. I'm sure you know more about that than I do, what with being engaged in the business of ruling a country full of people with all sorts of irksome habits." Zin shifted her stance a bit and placed her left hand on her hip, a seemingly innocent movement that flashed a lot of pale thigh thanks to the slit in her skirt and drew extra attention to it due to the moving hand. She had no real interest in the Crown-Prince outside of his capacity as the leader of Liveria, but on a whim she had decided to see how he would react. "Is there perhaps anything that might be done to prevent any such.. carelessness ruining a potential peace? I've been away from Liveria for many years now, and I fear I may be rather out of touch with common sentiments of the people. Could the orcs do anything to prove their commitment to the peace or atone for their past aggressions that would calm the minds of Liverians who might be otherwise inclined against leaving them in peace?"

"Hmph. You must have been gone longer than you believe." His eyes did not follow where she lead, and instead his look narrowed. Perhaps he wasn't attracted to her, but more likely, it was that he didn't trust a vampire with seduction. That, and Liverian royalty typically consummated relationships with nobility, not casual affairs with peasantry or outcasts. "The Liverian people know what it means to betray a royal decree: Death by penalty of treachery to the state. Whether they like it or not is beside the point; we believe in brotherhood, responsibility, and in leaving those alone who leave us alone. So long as the orcs are capable of respecting Liverian isolationism, those few who would betray such values would be executed before being able to threaten the sanctity of the state's decrees... While I find the orcs distasteful, they respect those who keep their own in line. Which is precisely what I will do if it becomes necessary." His glare grows ever colder and more accusatory as he unflinchingly looks into Zin's eyes. "Are you about done questioning the loyalty of the Liverian people to a cause that would go towards ending the invasion plaguing us all?"

The Crown-Prince's ire did not bother Zin much. She had expected such from the start, so it was almost comforting to finally see it. "It is not their loyalty I question, just their ability to rise above their base desires, such as that for revenge. I meant no insult to the people of Liveria; it is a problem among people of all kinds, in all countries. Not everyone has the resolve to ignore their darker wishes for the sake of the greater good." Zin casually shifted her stance again, hiding her leg behind the silver fabric of her dress once more, then she smiled faintly at Xavier. "It may help that their leader provides a fine example of resisting such urges. If there is nothing that might help the transition to peace aside from the orcs maintaining their distance, so be it." She considered trying to sway him away from murdering his subjects for simply disobeying him, but she knew it would do no good. The Crown-Prince was clearly in no mood to take any of Zin's suggestions, and as cold as it was she knew that a few Liverian deaths now and then to maintain peace would be far preferable to an open war between them and the orcs.

She almost concluded the conversation there, but something that had been lurking in the back of her mind finally made itself known: there was a reason why she had been so concerned about the outcome of the Liverian request above all others. Where before Zin had maintained eye contact with the Crown-Prince and spoke to the man as an equal, now she looked away and could hear the tentative and nervous note in her own voice. "Er, official business aside, I have another inquiry of a more.. personal nature. What with my, ah, outcast status and being busy with travel and work and then joining the Blades, I haven't been able to keep in any sort of contact with my family for the better part of a decade. Do you know anything of how they're doing, or is there anyone among you entourage that might be better acquainted with the merchants of the city and perhaps have such knowledge? I know it's probably rude to bother you with such things, and I'm sorry if I've offended you with such trivialities, but, well..." Zin trailed off lamely and shrugged, unable to find the words to explain herself.

His look softens somewhat as she mentions family, and the Crown-Prince gently taps her shoulder to get her to look back up. His tone hadn't changed, remaining hard but fair. "They are safe, for now. At least, last I heard in my noble's court... However..." He sighs, lowering his eyes momentarily before looking back up to her. "Their estate is northern. Right in the path of the oncoming orcish assault. I will be sure to alert them to the danger and evacuate in advance, if you wish."

Zin took a deep breath and gathered her composure. She'd been worried that one or both of her parents, both now in their sixties, might have passed away from something entirely unrelated to the orcs. "Yes, please, and thank you for offering. Perhaps others in the north ought to be warned as well, just in case things go poorly." There was nothing more worth saying on the subject, so she inclined her head toward Xavier as a sign of respect. "Thank you for your time, Crown-Prince, and for dealing with me courteously despite your distaste for my kind and my perhaps.. impolite questions. I meant it when I said you provide a good example to your people."

The Crown-Prince nods with a surprising amount of respect, then looks toward Queen Kouri. "If such an intelligent and marvelously cultured woman can find something redeemable in you, than you must be quite an exception to your kind... Good day, madam." He continues to look at Kouri for a few moments longer before he finally pulls his gaze away from her.

Zin smiled and gave him another brief curtsey before walking away and leaving him to his thoughts. Despite some rocky moments in there, she was glad they'd ended on more or less amicable terms. Now she could only hope that the Blades would take up the mission for Liveria and see to it that peace had a chance in the country, else the whole talk of peace would have been for naught.

 

[Jorick]

Diplomatic Union Meeting - Kasim and Sarah Darkhammer Collab​

Kasim walked through the meeting room without a firm aim in mind. His chat with Filomena had done a lot to calm his nerves, and he hadn't even needed to flirt or exaggerate his own greatness in order to feel at ease. There had been some bragging of course, but that didn't count when it was mostly true. He recognized that as a rationalizing excuse, and he took a brief moment to be proud of himself for being self-aware, but he stored the thought away for later examination as a new one occurred to him. In all his time seeking to leave a storied legacy, he had never really talked to anyone who had actually achieved such a status. Sure, he'd bantered and flirted a bit with Queen Kouri, but he didn't count that as a real conversation. There were some people here at this very meeting who qualified, but he figured that if he was going to take up someone's time then he ought to actually accomplish something worthwhile instead of simply sating his curiosity. Of his short list of candidates, he thought that only Sarah Darkhammer fit both interests, because she was one damned mysterious figure and Kasim couldn't help wondering why she was even bothering to appear at this sort of meeting. She had to be here for some reason, but what in the world could it be? He turned to look for her and...

There she was. Right in front of him, all of a sudden, in a place where he was sure nobody had been standing just a few moments prior. That was eerie, but Kasim shrugged it off as some kind of magic nonsense that he would never understand. He made his way toward the woman and inclined his head in a polite but not submissive gesture. He also maintained a respectful distance, because he'd heard a story about her having some kind of touch of death and he wasn't fool enough to take a chance with something like that. "Well fancy that, just as I thought to talk to you, there you were. I'm Kasim, one of the Queen's Blades. I have to admit that I'm confused about your presence here, since you're not really part of any of the nations and haven't submitted a request to the Blades." Kasim paused for a brief moment, then decided to go ahead with what he suspected. "I figure you're after something, that you wouldn't be here without some good reason. I'm curious what that is, and if I might be able to help."

Sarah notable dressed in a thick, brown cowl, the hood easily obscured her eyes and nose, leaving only her mouth exposed. Her pale lips curve upward, in a sweet yet twisted smile. "Am I? Here I thought I would go unnoticed for once." She mused with amusement, tapping her lips in an exaggerated fashion. "Now, let us see... What it would be that I could want, from such a council of people... Hmm... Stopping a demon threat competently, perhaps? Yes. I think that would qualify. Maybe I'm just watching to see if they interfere with things I have in plan in all their stumbling about in the dark." She allowed him to have his space, though started walking around him, eying him much in the same way a wolf would a sheep. "Mm... Handsome. What a shame it would be for the creatures I seek to ruin you so." Still, it seemed in her toying with him, there was some hint that she did have an ulterior motive. Perhaps if Kasim pressed his luck, he might find it.

Kasim couldn't help but grin at her sarcasm. He let her walk round him without turning to follow her, allowing her the full advantage of getting behind him where she could surprise him with an attack if she so desired. Given the apparent examination, it would also give her the full benefit of seeing his tight clothing at work from all angles, and he wasn't the sort to deny a lady such a view. He decided to drop the full formality he'd approached her with and opted for a sort of friendly banter instead, though not friendly enough to lack respect. "I'm not all looks, you know. Mostly, but not entirely. I think you could keep an eye on these meetings without ever needing to reveal your presence, but you let yourself be seen just enough so people know you're there. I figure we couldn't present more than an annoyance for you and your plans, because you could swat the Queen's Blades down like flies if it became necessary. I'm sure most people would be content with the explanation that you're just here to keep an eye on things, but I'm not." Kasim gestured toward the meeting room at large, indicating it and all the people in it. "I think you wouldn't show your face here, metaphorically speaking, if there wasn't something for you to gain, and I don't think you're the type to make a simple slip of the tongue. You're seeking some creatures of the dangerous variety, and I'm thinking you want some sort of assistance with that effort." He spread his hands out, palms up. "Well, I just said I wondered why you were here and if I could help. I've got a vague idea of the one, but nothing of the other. If you're willing to fill in the blank, I'm willing to listen."

"Hmm... Mmm... Slip of the tongue, or simple comment? You mortals and your word games." The undead woman pondered aloud, almost seeming to forget she was in the middle of a conversation for a moment before returning to stand in front of Kasim. She was closer this time, closer than he had given himself space before. Perhaps testing him, perhaps more of that renowned predatory instinct of hers. Still, that close, he was able to see her pale eyes, completely white and without defining features. "I play not with tools, but with knowledge, child. Amanda is the one still so utterly fascinated by shiny bobbles and false idols... I deal in information. Occasionally, I remove... Troublesome people. I don't think you want in that other business though. Still... I know a great deal. About demons, about political secrets..." She licks her lips, her smile growing ever more vicious. "...About princesses and masters for certain little boy toys..." Still, she finally took a step back, giving Kasim back the personal space he gave himself before. "I make myself known so others will trade... Favours for information. So... What would you like to know, Queen's Blade?"

Kasim was no stranger to games of predation, so he held his ground as she moved closer. He thought he had Sarah's interest at this point, or at least her amused attention, so he had little fear of her slaying him out of hand. Her suggestions of things she knew, however, were far more unnerving than the woman standing so close: apparently she already knew of his talk with Helénē, and she knew of parts of his past that he very rarely discussed. It was one thing to hear that a person had vast stores of information, but it was another entirely to find that out in a firsthand and rather personal fashion. Political secrets held little interest for Kasim, and he felt it would be somehow wrong to dig for information on the princess, but the other two...

"Ah, it sounds like you know of my old.. owner." The half-snarled word and hateful twist to his features as he said it made his opinion of the person and the arrangement rather clear. "I would like to know about her, if only to be able to deal with her known associates in the same way I dealt with her." Kasim figured she probably knew exactly how the merchant woman had died, so he felt no need to explain further. He took a moment to reign in his anger and remember that there were more important things than vengeful wrath at the moment. "Personal interests aside, information about demons would be far more useful. Anything you know about their plans, their agents, their weaknesses, and how they can be stopped or destroyed entirely would definitely be worth some favors." He paused again, then added a clarification that felt like a necessary addition. "Even the sort that involves removing troublesome people. Such important information would be well worth me getting my hands dirty."

"Dead, and good riddance... You'd know all about it, I assume." Sarah speaks with her amused tone about the ex-master. "As for her associates... Those that yet live, are scattered all over the Holds... Unimportant... Disenfranchised... If you really wish to know more, ask, but I believe it to be waste of your talents..." A compliment? Before Kasim could contemplate such things, she vanishes in a cloud of smoke and appears behind him. He had time to react to an attack surprisingly, though there was no perceived attack as she tapped his shoulder. A chill runs through his body at the mere touch, and with a little surprise, she appears back to the position she had started at, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not slow... I like that... Not fast enough, though."

With her lips forming an ever more vicious, upward curl, she speaks once again. "Demons... Hm... Be a little more specific, dear Kasim... I can't tell you all of their plans... Maybe, certain ideas in a certain country... Or certain interesting individuals... Certain patterns of behaviour I could illuminate on... Make a wise choice, little Kasim."

Part of Kasim was seriously regretting ever thinking of talking to Sarah Darkhammer. The greater part of him, however, that which thrived on adventure and excitement, was having a lot of fun despite the presence of fear and a certainty that she could in fact kill him on a whim. Her little disappearing trick was proof enough of that, and the chilling tap on the shoulder made for a grim reminder of the story of her deadly touch. He held himself together with what he felt was remarkable self control, but he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if the unsettling woman knew just what level of terror she inspired in him. "I knew you wouldn't tell me everything I asked after, but it was worth a shot." Kasim matched her vicious smile with a broad, friendly grin of his own. "I suppose we'll have to make more exchanges in the future, after we settle this one on good terms. For now, I'd like to hear about those certain ideas in a certain country."

"Well then pick a country, and I can tell you all about it, Kasim." The robed woman mused as she looked with approval at his behaviour. "Smart enough to be scared, clever enough to retain control. I like that... Shows promise for a good, warm relationship..."

Kasim chuckled at that, not sure if she was hitting on him or not, and not sure whether such a prospect more interested or terrified him. "I look forward to it, but I'm afraid you give me too much credit. When you mentioned information on their plans for a certain country, I thought you meant you knew just the one, not that I'd have my pick of the litter." He laughed again, this time shaking his head just a bit. "I actually underestimated you, I guess. Here's hoping I never do a damn fool thing like that again." Chattering had given Kasim just a few moments in which to think, and in that time he decided that as long as he was using Helénē's approval and his own potential fitness to rule her country as guides for his actions, then there was only one choice he could make. "I want to know about the demons' plans for Liveria."

"Liveria? Hm..." Reaching into her robes, Kasim would get a glimpse at a wreath of shadowy smoke underneath that obscured her skin. Either she was capable of hiding such power from mages, or, perhaps more worryingly, the mages who could detect it didn't dare act against her in this location. As Sarah pulls a small black book out, Kasim could sharply notice that the shadows seemed to be looking back up at him, staring at him, measuring him and evaluating him in some manner. Is this why she couldn't be ambushed? Could it see through her robes?

Opening the small black book, Kasim's nose would be greeted to the scent of incredible old parchment, the likes of which should probably be dust under any normal circumstances. "Let's see... Liveria..." Turning the pages, quiet sounds of people and civilizations played, through ages and ages. The number of pages never seemed to increase or decrease despite her flipping through several thousand pages, until she reached a newer looking page. "Ah. Here we are. I'm not omniscient, pardon my lacklustre memory on such a private nation." Within the page, Kasim could almost swear he could see a much younger looking Helena laughing in the arms of a warm looking woman, before Sarah moved her hand across the book, and the imagery shifted.

The light within a few feet surrounding them seemed to dim, though not entirely blacken, as two figures burst forth from the page. Miniatures, truly: About a foot in height each, walking around on the floor. One was a red skinned woman, and the other, the agent of Wrath that was leading the orcs at present. "So... I've agreed to enrage the orcs... What is it that you plan on doing?" The woman giggles, with a disturbing childishness. "My, but the mistress Envy requested that I take the place of the dead royal adviser of course! However, while the nation is so preoccupied with internal affairs, it's so much more difficult... But... If I had a horde of death ride from the north for these royalty they call 'Pig Bloods', I could so very easily work my art... Make a couple people bicker over foreign policy... Walk in, and propose the solutions... The death of the adviser was such marvelous incompetence on the part of the Queen's Blades. Such a great opening... However... Darling..."

The red skinned woman proved to have a magician's talents as she stopped pacing. "... When you get the orcs moving... Be sure to threaten Xavier's life. Not kill him, I need such a closed off, pained man to make paranoid of the world..." The agent of Wrath snarls as he slaps the agent of Envy. "I do not work for free! I am not Envy's personal, stinking, rotting afterbirth! Wrath will not approve unless we get something from this!" The agent of Envy grins maliciously. "Oh that's fine... That little bitch princess is too pretty... Too kind... It would be such a shame for Xavier if his daughter was raped to death by orcs... Such a shame, if such a soft, gentle... Delicious young woman were to fall... And fall... And fall... I heard Wrath broke his last toy, and Lust doesn't have a replacement... Do you think he would like them pale and used?" The agent of Wrath exhales, and Kasim could feel the heat of his breath by his foot. "...I think it is... Acceptable." The agent of Envy squeals with glee as she motions behind herself. "GOOD! Then I must continue with my noble woman's garb, and talk to Xavier some more! I think he and I are hitting it off splendid so far, such a strong and handsome man... Do you think Envy would be jealous?" The agent of Wrath rolls his eyes, then sniffs the air. He turns toward where Sarah was standing. "Do... You feel like we're being watched?" The images fade as Sarah slams the book shut, and tucks it back underneath her robes.

"Ah, yes. Now I remember. Planting an agent by Xavier, and murdering the princess so he'll feel enough sorrow that he will be easy to manipulate. Of course, the orcs, whether they succeed or fail, are just a simple smoke screen... If they succeed it'll weaken Liveria significantly. If they don't, this won't stop the agent of Envy from slipping in... I would imagine if they fail to kill the princess, the agent of Envy will attempt it herself... Of course... Whether Xavier would believe accusations attempting to remove others from power, from someone attempting to woo his daughter, is quite questionable, isn't it?" Sarah Darkhammer's vicious smile almost turns sympathetic for a moment before she takes a deep breath and sighs. She had no need to breath, but it seemed she kept up certain habits of life regardless. "Now, for that favour..." Once again she reaches into her robes, and this time pulls out a small, silver armband. "I want you to give this to that dear little Princess... Don't tell her it was from me, just, be sure that sometime now, or in the near future, she gets this and wears it... I would really and truly appreciate it, little Kasim..." He could tell that she was hiding her intentions, though it didn't seem to be too malicious. After all, why would she ask him to harm the princess? She had no real gains for it... At least, none he was aware of.

That was a hell of a lot to take in. Kasim found his fear of Sarah Darkhammer eclipsed by cold fury toward the demons and their fouls plans, especially how they involved Princess Helénē. The disgusting creatures would make her a slave of the body and her father a slave of the mind. He desperately wanted to run off and tell everyone what he now knew, but of course that would be very unlikely to end well. Sarah was probably right about how Xavier would react to such information coming from him, and it would do Helénē no good to hear what the demons had planned for her, and there was no telling how exactly they would react to the information, and there could be demon spies lurking about who could overhear the plans and let their makers know they had been compromised...

Kasim took a few slow, shaking breaths to focus himself and not let his emotions get the better of him. He took the silver armband and slipped it into a pocket, nodding to Sarah Darkhammer. "Thank you for the information. I'm sure I'll be able to make use of it, and I will do as you ask to repay the debt. Suitors are supposed to give gifts to the fair maiden they are pursuing, after all, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find a good time to do it." He hesitated, but he spoke on, his voice taking on a wry twist. "I'm nowhere near fool enough to threaten you, but I do hope you intend no harm to the princess with this trinket. It would be such a shame if this were to be the last of our dealings, rather than the first of many."

"Aw... Such a concerned man. I wonder how long it'll last after the flower is pierced." Her teasing tone intentionally implied more devious thoughts as she snaps her fingers. The arm band glows momentarily with power, a few tiny but harmless electrical bolts wreath around it. The effects fade as quickly as they began. Yet another artifact designed to hide its power. "If I wished harm on the crown-prince's waif I'd have gone out of my way to ensure she died too." The statement was cryptic, and from the cold way her smile faded hinted that it was best not to inquire further than that. "Good day, little Kasim... Oh, and this one is free for you... Liverian merchants produce chocolates like any other, but some are medicinal. Next time you get the opportunity, order some of the medicinal ones... It's good for her condition." Without another word, the shadows erupt from her robes, wreath around her, and she disappears. Kasim would hear a final whisper in his ear before her presence seemed to fade entirely. "Tell Xavier I was involved, and it's likely you won't leave the room alive."

"I'm not an idiot," Kasim muttered in response to the final little warning, though he was somewhat doubting that at the moment. He'd gotten some extremely valuable information, of course, but the cost... It didn't seem like much, but there was no telling what the arm band might do. The one thing he felt sure of was that it wouldn't kill Helénē, because there was no way someone like Sarah Darkhammer would require such a roundabout method if that was her goal. That comment about the Crown-Prince though, the 'too' on the end of that sentence, implied some dark doings afoot. A little voice in Kasim's head, one that reveled in such shadowy business, couldn't help but noting that if he intended to become the ruler of Liveria by way of marrying Helénē then the current Crown-Prince would have to die some time, so what did it matter when or who did it? It was a valid if cold point, but he pushed the thought away for the time being in favor of wondering what the hell Liverian medical chocolates treated, and what the princess' condition was. Kasim wasn't anywhere near a perfectionist when it came to women, so he was sure it would be fine, but he figured it would be a good idea to find out ahead of time just in case. To do that he would have to talk to a Liverian and bring up the chocolate thing. And he had some information that a particular Liverian ought to hear...

Kasim chuckled and shook his head. Sarah Darkhammer's warning wasn't as oddly specific as it had seemed; it was in fact just accurately specific. She'd anticipated who he would decide to talk to, that he would decide to have a talk with Xavier rather than bringing his information to Helénē or someone else who might act on it. For a moment he was tempted to do something else, just to defy the mysterious woman's expectations, perhaps tell Kouri everything and let her deal with the dark business of politics, but... No, if he wanted to prove that he was worthy of being the leader of a whole damn country, then this was as good a way as any to show that he could handle sensitive information and diplomacy and all that other nonsense if he put his mind to it. Determination firm in mind, Kasim set out to find Xavier and have a little chat about some demons and their plans to ruin Liveria.

 

[Atlas Child]

Sonia and the Child of Sloth
Present Time​

Corruption has showed its face in the word. Vile and rancid it is pouring forth onto the land and twisting all that it touches. It is a dark power that chills the bones and rattles the earth but only a precursor for something worse to come. The noxious beings which birthed this energy are only beginning to show their faces. They are the denizens of Hell and in their wake all stand to suffer. It is the reckoning to come and the reason Sonia braved alien lands. For standing opposite this destructive force are The Queen's Blades, the bulwarks against the raging madness. She was to be one of them.

Renalta, the bastion from which hope stemmed. The hooves of her chestnut mare clanged steadily against the cobbled path as she ascended to the keep. There was gathering taking place between the leaders of the world and whatever decisions they made in the next few days would echo through all of time to come. There was an energy to the place that she could faintly feel. She was a believer in fate and destiny and she swore she could feel their presence in this place. A soldier took the reigns of her horse as she reached the gatehouse, she dismounted and was led into the castle grounds.

Sonia believed there was a balance to be maintained. While the forces of demons and god's were vital components to the Aether, it was important that either be kept in check. When the Gods had kept the scales tipped it was a Renaltan queen who brought balance. It was time now where unholy magic could flourish and Sonia relished the fact, but all forces must be kept in check lest they grow overwhelming.

The powerhouses of the realms would be gathered in the audience chamber, but it wasn't great people who drew Sonia into the Blades. It was the demon threat and the Blades relation to it. It was shared knowledge that a child of Sloth had been captured and hidden away in the belly of the capital; The Diplomatic Union as it had been coined could wait. Under armed supervision she was escorted through the castle halls until she came to a stairway. She removed a torch from a wall and descended to the dungeons.

They came to Sloth's cell in its place of quiet isolation. The closer she drew the more she could feel the demonic energy linger on the child. It wasn't the magnitude she had felt when the portal in Tuleria had opened. That power had been so great all of the world may of felt it, but there was a familiar energy in the air, attractive even. She Stood a short distance from the cells face, peering in.

"Such a small cell," she observed aloud.

Within the cell Sonia would clearly be able to see several child's toys and pink paint on the walls, though it looked quiet and forlorn. There was a sense of solemn sorrow to the place, the air even felt stale. It was a form of illusory magic made manifest, which Sonia was able to easily recognize: It was a potent kind of magic, not to be trifled with on a whim. By all rights, a child should not know such magics. As she drew closer to the cell, she could peer inside at an angle to see a small tea table with various stuffed plushies sitting around it: A woman with green hair, a mechanical dragon, another woman with a toy firearm slung on her back, and a tall man in dark clothing. Sitting at the table, with her back turned to the front of the cell, was a young woman: Sloth's child. She perked up momentarily as she heard someone speak, the plushie's eyes all follow to stare at Sonia. The twelve year old's shoulders slump, and she returns to sulking.

From a darker corner within the cell, Sonia would see someone step out from the shadows: An adult male, wearing black leather with a hood. His footsteps betrayed his light weight as he passed by Sloth's child wordlessly. "Her name is Meryl." He states simply as he bows before Sonia. While Meryl was clearly something a little more than human, Gustavo's nature was far clearer: He wasn't alive, or dead. He was a manufactured entity, something with a soul, but which was tied to his existence under a set of conditions, likely related to Meryl herself. "I am Gustavo, ex-assassin of the Free Holds... The lady is not fairing well alone in this place, I'm afraid."

Sonia acknowledged the gracious bow with a nod of the head and measured the man for a moment before returning her attention to Meryl. The child, however, remained uninterested; Sonia's gaze was met only by the cold eyes of the dolls. Sonia was unsure what she had expected, but the surrounding walls and pink paint humanized the offspring of a demon. Despite the otherworldly forces at work, the girl at a glance appeared as any child might. It was a sad, familiar thought for what good could come from such powerful magic being harnessed by the young mind of a child.

Sonia then replied to Gustavo's concerns, "Dungeons aren't meant to be homely." She had only expected to find the child in the cell; the presence of Gustavo was off-putting. She hadn't been informed of a second captive, so was he the girls warden or protector maybe? Regardless, she wondered why he was sharing the girl's cell. "What is your role to the girl?"

"Her protector and servant, as bound to her by Sloth." Gustavo states plainly, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot impatiently. "Another interrogator, I presume?" He glances at Meryl momentarily. There seemed to be a lack of any genuine concern from him beyond his duty.

"Ah, I see," Sonia acknowledged, "enslaved by Sloth. Must be a powerful bond to be one which the Queens could not break." Her eyes had remained on the girl, trying to gauge the situation more precisely. The child had enthralled her interest and she no longer had the faintest idea what to expect of the girl. She broke her attention from Meryl and shifted it to the assassin, "No, I am not an inquisitor but my nature for being here needn't concern you, it is not in my interest to harm her."

"If you desire to speak with her, than it does concern me as her protector." Gustavo's plain tone remained, unwaveringly, as he glanced at one of the guards outside the cell. The guard looks back at him and nods, opening the cell as Gustavo steps back from the door. "Though it is true, I am in no place to stop you..." He glances at Meryl, who seemed aware of it as she slowly pours herself a cup of tea from a pink pot. Meryl seemed quite depressed, with slumped shoulders, though not unaware of her environment. Being a teenager, it was quite possible she wasn't certain of how to proceed with things.

Sonia stepped into the open cell and quickly glanced over the length of the room before resting her eyes on Meyrl and her dolls. She approached the child and halted a short length from the table then asked, "Would one of your friends mind sharing a seat?"

With a snap of her fingers, the table grows in length, opening two available positions immediately to the right or left of the child of Sloth. She shudders, and goes back to sipping her tea wordlessly.

"Very impressive," Sonia praised as she took a seat to Meyrl's right. At the table she clasped her hands and rested them on her knees. So close to the child Sonia could feel the pulsating magical energies. It emanated from the girl and crashed against Sonia's skin, penetrating and rattling her bones. Energy radiated from the girl like light from the sun, but the warmth was absent as the air was left stagnant and foreboding from the unnatural magic at play. The powerful forces swelling in the room were a stark juxtaposition to the silence. At the table Sonia noted the dolls which gave them company, and hoping to finally hear the girl speak she inquired in a gentle tone, "What are the names of your friends?"

"Mm..." There was no hint of tranquility to her tone, merely reclusiveness, as she attempted to play the part of the stoic demon, and failed at it as her voice fluxuated and cracked. "...T-they don't really... Have n-names... They're just people I've met. Most of them went away, though..."

A child after all

"I see," Sonia replied. She ran her hand across the table and allowed a smile, "You have tremendous control over your magic for someone your age. When I was as old as you I could do little more than hurt myself."

"I noticed... People keep saying that... Amanda said I was a... A... Produced Prodigy." A troubled look crossed the young teenager's face as she scratches the back of her head. "I don't really know what she means." Looking over to Sonia, it became quickly apparent to her that the magic which Meryl exercted was primarily from instinct, with only a little formal training. "So... You can stop pretending you don't have questions. Everyone comes with questions when they talk to me. Ms... Uhh... What's your name?"


"Sonia of Liveria," she replied plainly. "I have many questions but I get the feeling you're tired of answering them. Anything you'd like to share about yourself is more than welcomed." She then looked around the room with a mix of disappointment and annoyance and halted her eyes on the bars of the cell, "You shouldn't be kept in a place like this. A produced prodigy means you were given your powers for a purpose. A purpose people likely fear, which is the reason for those bars. But what's important isn't why you have the abilities that you do, but rather how you intend to use them." Her eyes looked over the soft features of the child's face with a kind of empathetic gaze. She then diverted her eyes to the table, the dolls, the pink paint, then finally back to Meyrl. Sonia leaned in and softly spoke, "You strike me as a good child, Meyrl. Don't let people change who you are. Amanda, Kouri or anyone else."

"Yeah, sure... Thanks..." Meryl rubs her forearms awkwardly, keeping her eyes diverted toward the table shyly. "I um... Amanda has been good to me, really... I really wish I didn't have to live within this cell though." She scuffles her heels against the floor, then smiles a little. "The guards are nice to me..."

"That's good to hear." Maybe Sonia had been unfair and too quick to judge the others of exploiting the girl. She was still weary but wouldn't be disappointed to be proven wrong, her own childhood didn't stray too far from Meyrl's after all. Sonia continued, "I'll ask the Queen to change your living arrangements. I see no need for bars."

"You wouldn't be the first, but..." She looks up at Sonia and smiles a little more. The pink coloured walls seemed to momentarily brighten. "I would appreciate it, Ms Sonia."

 

[Hellis]

[BCOLOR=#ff9900]BROVO AND HELLIS COLLAB[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#ff9900]Answers and Harsh Truths - Child, Mission Hub.[/BCOLOR]​

After a slightly painful silence, Xixis finally spoke to Child. The gladiator found that the goblin sounded far more benevolent then his Free Hold counterpart.

"Yes, well... Thank you." Xixis says plainly, though the amused smirk on his face said he was happy to have yet more help. Things were looking up for him. Child had a feeling the two of them could get along.

"Consider your cause mine Sir." She said, the half mask shaped as a skull reflected some of the light as she smiled widely. "If I may ask. What do you make of all this. the coalition I mean." She motioned towards the rest of the room, indicating the many around them.

"Neat. Very... Kouri-like." Xixis says, his amusement only fading slightly as he eyeballed Florence, the Imperial General. "Slightly worrying that the powermongerer organized it, but it's at least better than the Free Holds doing it."

"We can agree there. I see the reign of one Free Holder is much like the one before it." She sighs as she recollects the conversation that had occured earlier. "As for the Imperials. I expect nothing less. All imperials I've met have considered themselves the center of everything."

"They can't help it. Most of em' were locked in a cave for ten thousand years. That screws with your sense of direction!" Xixis snickers as Rashad scratches at his arms before glaring at Xixis. "Still. It's good everyone has finally decided that demon threats are more pressing than bloodshed. That can wait."
Child decided she liked this Xixis and his ways. IF by any miracle, she saw the end of of this campaign, she would likely stay in Goblin Holds. She caught herself however, and bowed slightly, politely. "I have other matters to attend aswell. I thank you for your time Sir. Good fortunes to you"

"Good luck to you too." Xixis said informally as he went back to his own affairs.


Child moved trough the crowds with the same determination as before, if not more. She had heard of the precence of the arch angel. And so she steered her steps across the room towards the angel sister of the Queen. As she approached, she bowed softly. Immediately, she felt a change in the atmosphere.

"I am Child. Of the Queens Blade. Is it possible to have some of your time. I have questions."

Turning to face Child, the archangel projected an aura of warmth for the woman. So much so that the voices which haunted her seemed, at least momentarily, captivated by the warmth that wrapped them, too. Myria smiles softly, though her gaze was still hard as she eyed the person before her, like a hawk examining a potential threat. "Speak."

Child was caught in that gaze, and for a second the voices grew still. For the first time since her first memory, there was a if not a silence, at least a mute murmur where otherwise there were a storm of voices ranged. It was strange feeling, serene almost. For a second she thought she would collapse into tears. But they were still there, she knew this and so she kept her eyes on the price.

"I was brought back, as a partial vessel for one of your kind." She spoke, a bit hesitant. "I am still not sure I understand the full implications...But when he was wounded. I could feel his pain."

"Ah, Gabriel. Yes. It's not something angels ordinarily do, but it was his only way to escape his prison, so I understand the necessity of the act." Myria was taller than Child, and looked down on her as such. "You need something, Child?"

"Will the bond only be broken trough death?" Child asked, her awe dissipating for each word coming out of the angels mouth. "I have been tied to spirits all my life. But I rather my fate be my own." She cocked her head, meeting the others gaze.

"Only if another takes your place." Archangel Myria states plainly. "He bound himself to be your guardian. Because you had no life force left, you lended you his own. Unless another takes the contract from you and lives with the consequences, you will die should he perish." A little sympathy reaches her otherwise hard look. "The bond can also only be given to those of your level of power or greater. If given to someone weaker, they will be unable to handle the power and will subsequently perish. Painfully."

Child slumped a little, a bitter smile on her lips with realization. "Freedom." She said to nobody in particular. "Such a foolish notion." She nodded her head to the archangel, a small gesture that held no small amount of disappointment behind it.. "Thank you, I am grateful for the information. Albeit it only confirms what I feared." She stared at her hands.

"Fear not. One of your allies can take the burden, should they so choose..." She stretches out her fingers, furling and unfurling them. "As for your voices... The only thing I can recommend is asking the Amazons about their Speakers of the Dead."

"The Amazons?" She ponders this for a while. The voices slowly starting to grow back into their agitated state "As for someone else taking up the bond." She continues, wetting her lips as if parched. " I cannot let that happen. I chose this burden." A look of renewed determination coming across her face. "I will have to live with it. Or die with it, as the case may be. Thank you Lady Myria." There was a less bitter tone to her now.

And with that. She headed for the Amazons.