The private office of Lord Wolperting was a large, circular room, richly furnished and littered with all sorts of things. There were many books, many littering of paper, and quite a few cartographers tools scattereed about a large oaken desk. Behind the oaken desk sat a Sabil, the descendants of fiends and humans - noble, clever, but generally corrupt. The Sabil was a bearded older man, with the distinctive blue eyesockets, tip of the nose, and cheeks, but otherwise, exceedingly pale. He was dressed finely but rather simply - though it was obvious that he was a Lord of some kind. In this particular case, he was Lord Wolperting of the North. He looked at the small band in front of him, and stood up, pushing in his chair with a small, soft sigh. Wolperting looked worried and tired, but he tried to smile. It came out forced. He dipped his head to each companion in turn, before he began to speak. "Hello to all of you. Please, excuse the mess. I have been working on tactics for days now. I've been a little caught up in the civil war," He ran a hand through his long, black hair, "The North has been divided by the civil war for nearly a year now, and my country has pointlessly lost so many lives," His eyes shone, adamant, angry, "It's the fault of Cassander - our king. He is both reckless and possibly mad, and has turned his back on us." Wolperting folded his arms around his chest, "He caused angry stirrings between the nobles, and then left on holiday with his... adviser, the Lady Ikol." A voice behind you chimed in, "The House of Skov struck first, at The House of Olven, taking them over easy,' Behind you, stood what appeared to be a younger Wolperting, with numerous scars across his pale cheeks, "The Skov and Birch revitalized their old alliance and began outright war with House Leth. We, House Wolperting, have been supporting Leth - helping them fight Skov and Birch. House Soren, our royal house, and under the jurisdiction of the King has done nothing," He said that last bit with malice, "The King ran." Wolperting dipped his head to the younger man, "That's my son, and commander of my army, Titus." He smiled again, and this appeared to be genuine, if exhausted, "Truly, my friends, I'm happy to have you here. The Chapel declared that very soon, the world of Jord will end," He turned his back on the group, looking up at a fine tapestry depicting a hunt of a white stag, "My Lord Void will not speak to me. Perhaps Marcellus could enlighten me on our God's intentions - but I have no doubt in the Chapel, even though their practices revolt me. Jord WILL be over," He looked to the party, "But I have a theory it can be stopped." Titus offered an explanation, "Marcellus is my little brother. He's waging war on US, not pleased with Father's rule and thinking he would be a better choice." Titus made a face, "He wouldn't be." He continued on, "Father has theory that we need to unite the North to succeed. And that means finding Cassander, getting him to use the royal army." Titus snorted, "Even if we don't like the bloke, we need him." Wolperting looked at the party hopefully, "I'm free to answer any questions you might have, and my son will be happy to outfit you with whatever you might need that we can spare." Naithí Scullian was absorbed with the explanation - trying to puzzle out who and what were the aggressors, and how they operated. His military experience should have given him a kernel of insight, but the Northern civil war seemed to be largely made of pent up aggressions and pride from a bygone era - nothing he knew enough about to offer any possible advice. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling out of place dressed in his Imperial Legion uniform. The Legion had no hold in the North, and he was more likely to be laughed at than respectfully treated. Naithí looked at his companions, and could already tell that his party was filled with their own motives, and were both racially and culturally diverse. This could lead to division, he thought, and that's something we don't want any more of. He took a deep breath. He wished that the old men from the army that he had been stationed with were here. But they weren't, so he had to the best that he could with what he had.