The Vraenor Empire

... Who?
Old spells didn’t work with any kind of consistency these days, for they were far too aged and stubborn to care about natural laws or what was proper.

Convincing them to cooperate was a matter of bending the words just right. A dozen ancient dialects jabbered in his head when he weaved them into a honey-sweet request that old magic often jumped to fulfill. The request was a simple transportation spell that didn’t hold near the end; it unraveled and spat him out into the dirt, as he ought to have anticipated. A ragdoll would have struck a more dignified pose but the dirt was soft enough, and Tim had had rougher landings. He listened to his bird's cackling before rolling onto his back and trying to find his feet amidst his confusion.

Ah, yes, he was still within Vraenor territory. Technically. Soldiers roamed between he hastily pitched tents cluttering the square, one of which became the raven's new perch, twice the size of a small dog now and mercilessly crowing in that eerie bird-tongue. Tim paid no attention to the man's sudden panic, dusting himself off setting off at a meandering pace through the aisle of tents.

A heavy weight settled on Tim's shoulder. "Tyr," the raven croaked. "Tyr. Yes. Good name. Tyr's name."

"A man-name?" Tim asked, glancing toward the bewildered soldier now covered in stew.

"Tyr's name." The bird nipped at his hat. "Good name."

Tim hummed. The bird would forget the name soon enough, just as it'd forgotten all the other names Tim had suffered to remember. "Maybe I'll stick you in a pot. Do you see the dogs? Don't they look hungry?" He knelt to dust his boots.

"Hungry?"

"You're not hungry. I'll stick you in a pot, and you'll come back as Apple. That's a good name."

The raven cackled. "Apple, no. Tyr good name. Tyr eat Apple."

"Yes," Tim said. "You should!"

Tyr hissed, pecked Tim on the side of the head before flying off again, presumably to find some other poor soul to harass. Tim would continue his exploration, as he had never been to this city, and it had caught his interest. The Vraenoran soldiers didn't mind his curious prodding-- humored him, in fact, before shooing him away so they could sleep. He rifled through their packs until they told him to stop, dumped spices procured from nowhere into their pots, and examined the stuffing of their pillows, but eventually they grew tired of his relatively harmless presence - their desire for sleep was always the issue - and begged that he wander elsewhere. So he did.

Not before tossing the stuffing to mask his escape, but there was little a hulking soldier could do to stop someone as slippery as Tim. He could find a new pillow.

There wasn't much else to see. The civilians were sound asleep in their tiny homes. But... perhaps the healers were still awake. Sometimes, they knew older magics. They knew the plants that Tim did not, and would share if he asked. Maybe.

Covered in grass and stuffing, Tim wandered toward the healers' tents.
 
Razzeck Ironblood
Daybreak


Razzeck was already awake before the first early morning rays broke the horizon. He sat sipping on a mug of water as a pan of meat sizzled over an open flame beside him. Some of the other men in his squad were being to stir as well, most of them mumbling to each other as they rubbed the sleep out of their eyes.
"Smells good Sergeant, is it lamb?"
The voice belonged to a young man by the name of Gael. He, along with another recruit, had been assigned to the company after the Boartusks lost two men in the battle for Ildir. The first was a close friend and had been apart of the Boartusk Company for almost as long as Razzeck, an elf by the name of Erlan. The other was a newer recruit, a lad by the name of Francis.

Razzeck shook his head and stabbed a piece of the meat with a knife. "Pork." He plucked the meat from the knife before motioning for the young man to come closer. In between chews, he said "Bring me yer bowl, I'll fetch ya' a slice."
Gael disappeared inside the tent before returning with a wooden bowl. Razzeck stabbed two pieces of meat and slide the knife on the edge of the bowl, leaving the two pieces of meat in the bowl. "Thank you sir!" Razz nodded as he took a sip of water. "Now go around to the other tents and make sure all the squads are awake. Anybody who isn't awake will be gettin' my boot up their arse."
The boy saluted and quickly went about his task. Razzeck finished off his mug of water as a more seasoned voice grumbling quietly at the mouth of the tent behind him. "Mornin' Dane." Razzeck called over his shoulder, recognizing his friends crabby tone. Dane held a sour look as he watched the boy leave "Still can't believe Erlan died and they sent some prim and proper boy to replace him." Dane shook his head and spit on the ground. "He'll be dead next battle."


"Drinkin' already Dane?" Razz said, stabbing the last piece of meat off the pan. "Drinkin' or not, you know I'm right Razz."
Dane was one of Razzeck's longest living friends, both joined up with the Boartusk company around the same time. The pair had been brothers-in-arms for a long while now.
"Ya' shouldn't be hard on the lad, he didn't choose to take Erlans spot."
The dwarf plopped the last bit of meat into his mouth and stood from the log he sat on. Dane omitted to not respond, but instead roll his eyes silently.
"After the men get fed, we're gonna' be runnin' through some drills. Best sober up and change ya' mood by then, else you'll be getting acquainted with the back of my hand."
Razzeck watched Dane nod solemnly before disappearing back into the squad tent to gather his things.
With the rest of his squad getting ready for the day, the dwarf scooped up his pack from the ground and slugged it over his shoulders. He headed off away from his companies section, calling out to a trio of soldiers passing by. " Mornin' lads, mind pointing me towards the healers tents?"

~~~
It took a bit longer than Razz would've liked, but after taking one to many wrong turns, he finally stumbled upon the tent section made up for the medics and healers of the Imperial Army. He didn't know much about who he was looking for, only her name was Tolainnea and she was one of the Horned. "Excuse me lass, I'm lookin' for a Tolainnea." He called out to one of the women who was up checking a crate of medical goods. "The Horned?" The woman's tone was surprised, almost as if she had never expected anyone to be looking for her by name. Razzeck nodded. "I haven't seen her this morning." She paused to check something off her list. "If it's healing you need, we have plenty of other healers here." The dwarf shook his head "No, I'm as fit as a fiddle'! Just wantin' to thank her is all." The woman pursed her lips some and glanced down at the dwarf before pointing away from the tents. "She was reassigned to be the personal healer of the Lord High General." Thanking her, the dwarf went along on his way.
~~ @Lillian Gray ~~
After making his way towards the Command tent, Razzeck spotted the Horned woman he looked for. She was busy looking through her bag, what for Razzeck didn't know. He cleared his throat and called to her. "Miss Tolainnea?" He paused to set his bag on the ground and quickly rummage through a side pocket to pull out a small bag of coins. He held the bag out to her, giving her a small smile. "It isn't much, but I wanted to thank ya' for saving one of my men's life the other day." He did a stabbing motion towards his gut with his free hand. "I would've been down three men that day if ya' hadn't worked ya' magic on the lad with the pike in his stomach."
 
Arterion left the war room without a word the moment their meeting wrapped up and ran through a list of things to be done, namely reorganizing patrols, and if he was lucky, a short break and time to wind down before morning came. He would go from there, maybe get one of the captains to take over just long enough for him to get some shut eye. But before all that could be done, he had someone to speak with.

He’d been too hasty with her, and although Arterion wasn’t the type of man to feel guilt over such a trivial thing, he did feel it necessary to speak with her. Figure out where she’d be staying, remind her to avoid the unwounded men after a battle so they wouldn’t involve her in their behavior-- he’d have a talk with the men about that, too.

Making a ruckus over beans. Arterion shook his head.

For now, they had tents acting as both personal quarters and command centers, all connecting in the center for convenience. Arterion’s tent was open, and when he entered through the flap, he found not one, but two people inside. How... strange. It was no issue; the men were expected to come directly to him when in need, and Arterion had never cared much for privacy on the field like this. He canted his head in a slight nod toward the dwarf captain who appeared to be offering his thanks to the healer, then moved toward Tola.

“Glad to see you found your way. I’d have offered you something more personal if we had the room.” His gaze drifted to her pack. “You’ve brought everything? It would be improper for me to accept you into my tent, but there are others that have yet to be filled. Simply point one out and it’s yours.”

The Lord High General could do a great many things. Passing out tents freely seemed to be one of them.

-
???
Rumor spread quickly in these military encampments, especially among the wounded. So long as Tim stayed a good few paces away from them, the men keeping watch were up for a chat and gladly pointed him in the right direction when he mentioned the healers. Tim knew much, more than seemed possible, yet there were always things he’d yet to learn of, or experience. Vraenor’s healing magics were of particular interest to Tim, so dissimilar to what he knew that he craved to learn more. And who better to learn from than a Vraenoran healer?

It would never work as efficiently as the old magics, but it would be a learning experience nonetheless.

The raven warbled excitedly in Tim’s ear, feathers ruffling noisily. “Soft. Look-see. Soft cat, eat flowers. Yum.”

“Cat’s don’t eat flowers.”

“Yes! See?”

Tim paused to follow the point of the bird’s beak, but all he saw was a patch of flowers. The remnants of a garden before the army stormed through here, wilted and dried. Surviving, despite it all. The longer he looked, the more apparent another shape became amidst the flowers, and when it rolled over onto its back, Tim’s eyes lit up.

It wasn’t eating the flowers. It was lounging in the flowers. And Tim wanted to pet it. So he approached slowly and crouched just outside of the patch of flowers, a hand reaching out. All thoughts of the healers were gone, ignored and forgotten and replaced by a simple, childlike need to touch something as soft as a cat.

"Hungry!"

Tyr squawked and nipped Tim's fingers, startling the cat and sending it shooting across the plaza, and as any strange fellow with an interest in lone felines and a hatred for obnoxious birds would do, Tim chased after it. There was no incentive other than to pet it, and his sense of direction would surely suffer for it. But chase he did. If only to keep it safe from the soldiers-- they were far from the gentle cat-loving folk he'd traveled with. No, he had to find this cat. Maybe he could replace the bird.

It wasn't a smart cat. It didn't attempt to hide, or bite him, or much of anything. It just ran, straight toward the tents, and he'd been going there anyway. Today was a lucky one. Tim jogged after the cat and when it ducked under the flaps of one of the larger tents, Tim followed.

The people inside didn't matter. He wanted the cat.
 
kieran_throauldr_banner-jpg.171457

“What’re you doing here?”

It was a simple question, asked betwixt clenched teeth and a stiff body that had just opened the door. It was glided shut as the tension continued to simply build and build as each step the emperor took seemed to be increasingly mechanic, formulaic. There was no emotion nor any visible intent in any action he took as his breaths deepened more and more. Kieran was stuck internally battling his defensive instincts not to just rush and electrocute the assassin who had made his way into his quarters. It was the correct thing to do, was it not? To prevent it from happening again.

No. He had to listen to his reason and keep his emotions aside for just a brief moment. He drank in the room. In center of it all was a four-poster bed, with the left side of the room set up with the furniture belonging to a proper lady and the right for a gentleman, whilst the area before it was filled by a fireplace, a coffee table, and some chair to make it akin to a small solar in some of the more regal castles. Most of the floor in the room was covered in carpet, while many other pieces had been shuffled around. But, of course, Kieran’s eyes drew to the wine, almost letting a smirk cross before speaking up cautiously.

“Not your handiwork, I take it? You seem far too… experienced to rely on such a base trick.”

Belrick’s gaze remained unflinching like a statue as the emperor entered the room and began the spree of rather understandable questions. He was a man of focus that was clear from how he upheld himself in the current situation but the subtle deepening of his breaths did not get past the assassin. Belrick knew he had to tread lightly here lest he appear too aggressive and all hell breaks loose. So he kept leaning back against the stone wall he’d chosen and slowly removed his hood to reveal himself fully.

“I’m come to make a deal with you, Kieran Throauldr.”

The half-elf’s eyes traced over to the wine once it was brought up. The same two eyes curiously looked over the emperor once more. Sure to Belrick the attempt seemed obvious but for this man to see it as well either meant the attempt was even worse than he’d thought...or it was meant to be caught.

“You are correct. I suspect that attempt was made by someone with the intent to frame Lady Etienne or myself with how abysmal it was, given that foxglove was specifically used. But more on that later.”

Belrick stood up from his wall but took no steps closer to Kieran. He’d put plenty of thought into this moment. What was the best way to get this deal to go his way while causing as few problems as possible? He made sure to be ready for whatever aggressive action the pale man may take from the news he was about to hear.

“I’ll get right to the point then. I know the man who took your family from you, Kieran.”

The Pale’s face drained of what little color it had as the white of his face seemed to approach the white of his eyes. Despite the light that came from the crackling fireplace, Kieran’s shadow seemed to lengthen and meld with the shadow cast by the room’s furnishings as he now harried in thundering footsteps across the room as the very air itself seemed to become electrified. Any mask of humor or any facade of a calm mind was stripped away as his eyes narrowed. The publically dignified stature truly befitting any emperor loosened and melted as the primal siege of emotions began to flutter in his mind. The idea that the descendants of Drow and Men were rational animals escaped his mind for a brief moment as impassioned steps approached the half-breed with a look of murder in his eyes.

“Listen well,” his voice was as stiff as starch, a low growl echoing in his throat that seemed to meld with the low crackle of the burning lumber. “You will explain how you know of my kin’s death and how you know of the assassin’s identity. Then I will listen to your proposal. Speak quickly now, before I change my mind.”

Needless to say, things just got very, very intriguing as far as Kieran was concerned.

Belrick was rather pleased with the reaction he’d received from the emperor. That calm facade that those in power wore while just underneath it is an individual just like everyone else. Additionally, this let Belrick know that he had Kieran hooked, now he just had to reel him in without getting bit by the fish. The half-elf stood his ground as the emotional emperor closed the distance between them. Like a natural warning sign, Belrick’s hairs were standing on end from the sheer amount of magic he was feeling in the room now. Makes sense for the emperor of these offensive styled magic loving people to be rather proficient at it himself. Beneath his cloak, Belrick palmed one of his smoke bombs just to be safe. Thankfully his now sweaty hands didn’t cause him to drop it.

“When a task that significant is completed, information will always leak out no matter how good the assassin is; even if only to those within the same profession. Naturally, gathering information and making sure people disappear is something I do and few are better at doing so than Shaodorians.”

It was honestly that simple. Belrick had no attachment to this assassin and nor did he have any special interest in him...until recently of course. He made sure not to push the conversation too quickly by asking if Kieran was satisfied with that answer.

“Then speak. Now.” It was an order, one with a certain sharpness that seemed to reflect more militaristic demand than diplomatic levity. The emperor eased his posture only slightly, his sword and dagger still hanging from his hip and well within his reach should he feel the need to draw some of the Shaodoran rogue’s blood. But, thankfully enough, that wouldn’t happen unless the imperial monarch found himself extremely displeased with the man before him to the point that he would end up neglecting his far more favorable choices: electrocution and disintegration.

The aged half-elf let out a low sigh through his nose. The whole situation was understandable as to why the man was so hot-blooded. Belrick wanted to list the demands before giving away his information but it would seem that if he stalled this young emperor any longer he’d certainly become violent.

“Vraksus Tramor is the one you seek,” Belrick spoke the name and paused so that the boy who lived could take it in. “He is a Naskus native and last I checked still lives out his days there; living off the wealth he gained from your personal misery.”

For the first time during this conversation, Belrick moved, cautiously taking a few steps over to the nearby window and looked out into the distance for a few seconds before turning back to the emperor, allowing him a few more seconds to take everything in before changing gears. “I hold no loyalty to Shaodor your grace; only Lady Etienne. That is why I’m come to share this information with you this night. I only ask that Lady Etienne and those under her be allowed to join the winning side of what is to come. In regards to dealing with the Shaodrian’s, she will be of great help as an advisor. Not to mention when you begin hunting down Vraksus Tramor you’re going to need someone who thinks like him if you ever wanna see him pay for what he’s done to you.”

There was a pause, then a breath. Then there was a look of plotting and death, a look that seemed as if it was from the annals of darkened mythologies long forgotten to the mortal mind before taking place in the eyes of the young emperor as he took a few steps backward before speaking up in an eerily smooth manner compared to his previous explosive seriousness.

“Very well. Your information is well worth your desires then. You can inform that your lady that, if worse come to worse if need be declared, she and her holdings will fall under my protections. You have my solemn oath that this will be the case. If you have no other business then, shadow, then I would ask that you leave me to my own thoughts for the remainder of the night.”

The emperor’s posture became a different sort of rigid as opposed to before- now there was an air of confidence, of domination where that had previously been little outside of the primal emotions. Kieran’s mind had begun to swirl with a great litany of thoughts, and he was more than excited to divine them into a great means by which he could derive an even greater vengeance.

The tenseness in Belrick’s muscles mercifully relaxed as Kieran agreed to the terms. With the smoke bomb carefully tucked back into its pouch the shadow bowed his head slightly towards the now clearly in thought emperor. “Of course.” With deaf steps, Belrick walked past Kieran on his way to the door of the room but stopped as he just passed the pale ruler. “Oh, the poisoned wine. The last person I saw leaving this room was a maid, short with dark hair and freckles. You might want that looked into.” Were the last dry words that Belrick spoke before he exited the room and left the castle as covertly as he’d entered it.

Finally outside and finished with his task Belrick took in the cool night breeze. He felt moisture running down his forehead, warm and slick. He was sweating? After wiping his brow in surprise the half-elf cracked a smile at the sight of his own sweat smearing across his skin. Things were only going to get more interesting moving forwards; he was sure of that.

Collab with @BlueFlameNikku
 
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Tolainnea "Tola" Rota
Morning

The night had offered up exactly what Tolainnea needed. Rest. Even with her head resting on vials of herbal tinctures and dried bundles of herbs, stones and books to help aid her studies in the healing arts, and even with the two horns that spiraled from the top of her head, Tolainnea found comfort on the floor of the tent as if it were made of the finest down feathers. Draped in nothing but her own shawl, the privacy of the Lord High General's tent was a luxury she hadn't enjoyed since she had been home, in Vraenor.

So when the sun rose, and the light slowly began to illuminate the space - no curtain to halt its advance, Tolainnea was reluctant to raise her head and look to see if Arterion had made it back at all. She still had a duty to him, after all. Between her light breathing, she heard nothing, which made her believe she was truly alone. She let out a small breath of relief and sat up, running her hands through her dusty black hair until it sat evenly between her horns. A small act of vanity.

Arterion had to come back eventually, she knew as much. She needed to learn about him, study his rhythm, get an understanding of what was normal so she had a better understanding of what was wrong. Did he know that's what it meant to have a personal healer? She huffed, and began to rummage through her pack in search of a small tome. Before she could find it, someone had entered the tent and seemed to know who she was. That didn't sit well with her.

Who was he?

"I do not know you." Tolainnea spoke slowly, eyeing up the bag of coin. As it was, the horned woman was rather lacking when it came to funds, but everything she needed was provided by the military through rations or request. Still, it might have been nice to have something other than a dry bit of jerky to eat. That, and being able to perhaps barter for some local herbs. But, it was her job to heal, and she knew nothing of the dwarven stranger. "It is my duty to heal, and since no one wanted to heal your...man, I did. I do not need payment."

That didn't mean she didn't want to take it. However, she couldn't. It would have been selfish of her to do as much when there were others suffering, needing more than she ever would.

"I would much rather you-" Tolainnea was cut off by another voice.

Another face joined their company. Arterion. Now that he had finally found her again, she could have a proper conversation with him. What were his expectations? She had something for him as well, and she wanted to do her own examination, but instead he seemed rather insistent upon finding her a tent. Why did everyone want Tolainnea want her to be in a tent? She couldn't wait to be surrounded by tall stone walls again.

"I do not mind where I stay, Arterion, but first I do think it would be best if we finally had a moment to discuss-" Tolainnea was cut off yet again. This time by an orange and white cat darting through the flaps of the tent and straight into the safety her pack. Closed, at least partially, it offered some concealment from both the stranger and his unseen pet in tow. She pulled the startled animal out, and held it cautiously in her arms. The small thing put up a protest, but Tolainnea scratched behind his ears until he seemed satisfied being held by a stranger.

She was uncomfortable. There were too many people, and Tolainnea did not know any of them. Her golden eyes shifted between the stranger, the dwarf, and finally settled on the familiar helmet she knew as Arterion. After all, she had never really seen his face, but it was still this image that was most familiar to her.

"Arterion." She said with as much confidence she could muster. "I rather wanted to speak with you, now that I am in your charge. But..." Yet, she faltered, not knowing what to say to the other two strangers. She didn't want to accept the gold. She wanted him to give it to someone else, to purchase supplies or local goods. She hardly knew what the other stranger was doing chasing after a cat.

"It has become crowded it seems." Tolainnea ended with the obvious statement. Her eyes stared forward, bored, unsure what she was supposed to do now that the High Lord General was here.
 
A Dance with Poison
collab between @Kat and @BlueFlameNikku

To say Etienne had quality sleep last night was an understatement. She wished she could have some more time in bed, however, she could not think for once that sleeping in would solve her troubles. Etienne was glad to make it to the next day, though she wondered where her uncle was. When she’d laid down for bed, he was nowhere to be found. Etienne took a bath and got dressed with the help of Lady Gwen per the usual routine. Lady Vana made her tea and Avyana, one of her newer ladies in waiting, shadowed Gwen. The lodging provided was decorated in such a way that provoked passion and depth. Dark red, brown, and orange color… A palette Etienne was not used to. She’d have to explore the place more in depth to learn of who used to live in the manor.

Lady Vana set Etienne’s tea down on the side table and a familiar face approached the morning room. Etienne took two sugar cubes and gently placed them in her tea, quiet as Belrick made his way over. She could smell the night on him and cut straight to the point.

“Where were you last night? You delivered the invitation and disappeared.”

She poured some milk into her tea and offered Belrick some tea as well.

Belrick had entered the room with slight bags under his eyes. He’d managed to get some sleep during the prior night though it turned out to not be sufficient for his late night activity. He promptly thanked Eti for the tea, putting in a single sugar cube. However, he paused just as he went to take a sip right as he was questioned. ”Not much gets by you these day, m’lady.”

Once Belrick ingested some much needed sugar into his system, he explained where he’d been.

“I paid the Vraenoran emperor a personal visit. Honestly, he took the whole intrusion part better than I’d expected; but onto more important matters.” Belrick stared straight at Etienne with his usual serious expression. “I made a deal with him, m’lady. I had some information I knew he couldn’t resist and in exchange I asked that we be allowed to join the winning side of what is to come. His words were… If worse come to worse, if need be declared, you and your holdings m’lady will fall under his protections. He then gave his solemn oath on the matter before asking that I leave him to his thoughts.”

“You did what?” Etienne’s voice was sharp. She glanced up at her uncle, clearly shocked.

“I’ve secured your safety regardless of what happens in the coming days. That’s what’ve I’ve done and all I’ve ever done, Etienne.” The shadow’s voice had softened slightly when he spoke now upon realizing he’d displeased the baroness. After taking a step back Belrick stood up straight and spoke in his monotone voice once again. “If my actions without your approval have displeased you m’lady, command me and I will gladly carry out the proper punishment.” His words were serious and grim as he meant every word he said. Belrick retrieved a small knife from his side and calmly held it to his throat; watching Etienne and waiting for her to speak.

“Uncle!” Etienne inhaled sharply and rose immediately. “Put that knife down now!” She set down her tea harshly, the contents pouring over the side table as she dashed over to her kin, fingers impulsively wrapping around the blade as she forced the weapon away from Belrick’s neck. Etienne swallowed hard as she frantically checked her uncle for any signs of odd changes in his skin or worse, the smallest cut from that knife he’d just procured. Luckily, there was no harm done to him. He was safe and sound, but was she really? Were they really safe? She cleared her throat and stepped back, lifting her hand to pull back a loose strand when Avyana suddenly came rushing to her side.

“M’lady, you’re bleeding!”

Etienne glanced at her hand and the slow, thin trickle of blood running down with one drop dripping to the floor before Etienne turned her palm facing upward to keep the blood from flowing. Avyana immediately grabbed Etienne’s wrist and temporarily wrapped Etienne’s hand in gauze. Etienne glanced over at Belrick, eyes narrowed, and although there was a steely resolve in place, there was also a hint of pain, a dread for what was to come. They didn’t even know if they could trust the Vraenorans and yet, her uncle had told the emperor some information he couldn’t resist.

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him about the invitation last night? What the king’s plans are? Tell me now.”

Belrick made sure not to move as Etienne dashed to him and removed the knife from his grasp. He also completely complied as she checked him for any minor cuts. His eyes showed how startled he was when she yelled. They had opened wide, surprised at her niece’s actions and at the superficial cut now on her hand. His eyes narrowed once again just as her own eyes were. He spoke her first name once again under his breath, it was so subtle that not even the maids would likely hear it.

“I didn’t inform him about the Shaodorian king’s plans nor about the invitation. I told the emperor the name of the assassin who killed his kin.” Belrick spoke the words in an almost eerily casual way, like a smith referring to a fellow smith’s profession.

Etienne breathed a small sigh of relief, however, Belrick’s last sentence caught her off guard. That was certainly news to her.

“The regicide? That’s just a rumor though. Are you leading him on?”

“Leading him on would be too risky in our current situation. That regicide was very real I assure you; it is that act among other which fuels the vengeance that these people feel and that pale man sitting at the head of it will go to any lengths to claim it. That’s what makes these people a force to be feared- not their Fell Maidens and not their siege weapons. Hate is a more volatile weapon than anything mortals could forge.”

“How… How do you know the regicide was real?” There were lingering suspicions about why he may have known or found out before her. Etienne had calmed down rather quickly, her now bandaged hand at her side. “I’ve only heard rumors.”

“I’ve heard the same rumors. However, it is who you hear those rumors from that makes all the difference Lady Etienne. You were still on the younger side when I happened upon this information from someone whom I spent many days with; someone who had no reason to deceive me and someone I trust greatly, my mentor.”

Etienne could not deny that piece of information. Belrick spoke the truth; it wasn’t what you knew, it was who you knew. She sighed, “You know though, that just because the emperor says if a certain situation happens, particularly if he wins this damn war, does not mean we are truly safe. He can say plenty of things to make you think we’re safe, but you should never ever let your guard down, not even during a deal. You hold your cards close to your chest Uncle; he could be plotting our death now with his senior spymaster and assassins for all we know.”

Her eyes met his, worrisome and tired.

“You could’ve died. Do you understand? While I’m glad he didn’t raise a finger to touch you, you could’ve died and that is more devastating than being killed by him directly. You don’t fear death, but I fear you dying. I don’t want you to ever do anything like that again. Do you understand?”

Belrick made a mental note to never utter the primal aggression he’d witnessed in the emperor’s eyes for Eti’s sake. “I never planned to lower my guard m’lady, you know better of me. But I understand, as you say I will not do anything like that again.” He peered back at his niece with sad eyes before he attempted to give her a hug. It was awkward as he clearly hesitated in doing it not once but twice in addition to the embrace being very stiff in nature. Eti did not accept the hug as Belrick might’ve liked; she did not want to put him in such an awkward position, as he’d already forced himself to do.

The assassin’s ears perked up however at Eti mentioning other spymasters and assassins. “In regards to spies and assassins I have some more information. Someone had poisoned the pale emperor’s wine. I suspect the attempt was purposely abysmal with the intent to frame us; on account that foxglove was used specifically.”

“Foxglove? We’re immune to that. We need to find out more information. Whoever tried to frame us, I don’t know what to do with it. It’d be awfully bold of us to assume it was a Vraenoran. Vraenorans truly value loyalty, however, we cannot say who it really was until we know for certain who poisoned the emperor’s wine. Thank you for the information. We need to hunt down whoever did this as soon as possible. Perhaps, it will give us some leverage in the long run. Did the emperor know about this attempt? Was he hurt?”

“He noticed the attempt as he entered his chambers. The regicide had rightly made him quite perceptive of such things I’m sure. I did inform him of the last person I saw exiting his chambers. Short maid, dark hair with freckles, works in the fort. There is no guarantee whether she’s a decent lead or not but it is a start.”

“Good. At least we have something to go off of. For now, I’d like to finish my tea and breakfast. I advise you get cleaned up and do the same.”

“Of course, Lady Etienne.”

@Kat @BlueFlameNikku @AceSorcerer
 
Collab with @TheQueensGuard and @Lillian Gray

Razzeck blinked, slightly confused. Not many people would just dismiss payment for work that was already done. Well, at least the people he was accustomed to. Before the Horned healer could say what she’d rather have him do, the heavy footsteps of the armor-clad Lord High General came into the tent. Razz gave him a quick salute and stood quietly while he addressed Tolainnea.

The dwarf was determined to pay the healer for her help in whatever way possible, yet he didn’t dare interrupt whatever business she and Arterion had planned. Perhaps it would be better to return later?

Before Razzeck made up his mind, the blurry orange and white outline of a cat darted towards the healer. The dwarf frowned and took a step back. He never really liked cats, they always made him itchy and their hair made it hard for him to breath. The footsteps of another person drew his attention and he glanced over his shoulder too see an unfamiliar person.

He didn’t look to be a soldier, nor a healer. In fact Razzeck did quite know where he would fit in. Perhaps he was a friend of the Generals? The dwarfs hovered over his belt where a handaxe hung, incase the stranger had some sort of malicious intent. ”Oi lad, not another step.. Razzeck raised his hand and stood as tall as he could in front of the stranger in an attempt to block his path. As Tolainnea expressed her concern towards the crowded tent, Razzeck nodded in agreement. “Miss Tolainnea is right, I’ll escort the stranger out and return shortly.”

“Do what you like.” Tolainnea eyed the strangers warily. She had become quite distracted stroking the orange and white cat’s head, so she stood, quietly watching the room without a word not knowing what to say as she listened to the soft pur beneath her ashen hands. “Before you go, Sir Dwarf, if you want to give the coin to someone, I suggest you simply pass it on to Ninra herself. The funds can be used for healing supplies instead. Ninra Nothedash.”

“I can return as well.” Her posture hardly changed, though her eyes shifted focus to subtly stare evenly at Arterion through the slits in his helmet. “When the time is more convenient. I do not want to be a bother.” The Horned woman offered.

Tim paused, almost thoughtful, then reached out for the cat anyway, shooting the dwarf a grin over his shoulder. "Escort? Nice offer, but I won't waste your time a moment longer. I simply need this--"

Arterion coughed. “Leave, both of you. I have matters to discuss with Lady Tolainnea.” His helmeted head tilted, visor turning on Razz. “If you would...”

“But, the cat! The bird showed me, so it must be important! It can be! I just need to hold it, just a moment.”

With a growl, Arterion said, “Lady Tolainnea has it now. Get out.”

Tim’s hands curled into fists, his once empty expression becoming a scowl. Oh no, he would not leave without this cat. How he wanted that cat, but for what purposes, he wasn’t sure yet. He would decide on the way out. As if his strings had been cut, Tim relaxed, smiled, and leaned over to pat the cat on the head before the horned woman could react.

“Alright,” he said, looking to the woman. “I will see you later. I have so many questions.”

He was gone in the blink of an eye, and Arterion felt as though he’d upset some terrible monstrosity that would surely bite him in the ass later.

Razzeck gave a small nod to Tolainnea ”It will be done!” He swung his pack back onto his shoulders and stashed the coins in a pocket. As the High General ordered both he and the strange man to leave, Razz gave a small bow and headed towards the mouth of the tent and disappeared outside.

Tolainnea hardly moved at all. She simply waited, watched, as everyone else moved around her. The strangers had not introduced themselves, simply finding it appropriate to barge into Arterion’s tent as she had. Only, she did not know how they were related to the General. The woman paused. What was it that she wanted to say first?

“Good morning.” She said, finally looking to where she assumed Arterion’s eyes had to be. “Now, I have brought my personal effects and supplies, Doctor Nothedash’s letter of transfer, and I need nothing from you but your cooperation.”

Tolainnea bent over, setting down both her pack and the cat, who, reluctantly slunk away from her arms with his tail flicking slowly in the air. She quickly bolted upright, arms held together in front of her.

“Take off your armor.” She all but demanded.

Hiding his surprise, Arterion scoffed, moving toward his desk to sort through the written orders he’d prepared for the watchmen. “I don’t know if you realize, healer, but now is not the time for that. These men need guidance, and I cannot guide them looking like a fool. You are excused, as I have work to do.”

Gathering up the parchment, Arterion settled in behind the desk, still fully armored and seemingly perfectly content. When he looked back up and noticed the healer hadn’t moved an inch - no one could exit a tent within seconds after all, but he was feeling particularly impatient today - he sighed.

“If you can’t find a tent, do let me know.”

Tolainnea frowned. She was used to resistance, but this was unusual for a one on one assignment. Had she misread his desire for a healer? Had she done something wrong? No. Perhaps the rumors were true. Arterion Landrak was just as, if not more, stubborn than she had heard.

Nevertheless, she ignored his dismissal and dropped her belongings on the floor of the tend and let her shawl fall away from her shoulders. Her white medic apron was tied at the waist, armband pinned in place, and with a practiced motion she began to braid her hair so it wouldn’t be in the way.

“I do not know if you realize, General, we are not at battle and the body is not foolish, but a man can be. It is also foolish to not take proper care of both body and armor.” The woman tied off her hair and looked to the back of Arterion’s head, a stern look in her eye. “I will ask again, take off your armor.”

His fingers twitched, agitation rising. But he had brought her into his service, and to back out now out of some desire to… what? Keep his dignity? There was no real reason he couldn’t comply. But she was looking rather fierce now, and Arterion was far too exhausted to verbally battle this out. With a heavy sigh, he shoved aside the parchment and stood from his chair, his hands going to his helmet to pull the latches.

“Make it quick, then.”

He removed his helmet and set it aside on the desk, then got started on the breastplate. She was the only one who’d see. What harm would it be?
If he hadn’t been upset with her before, he certainly was now. Tolainne’s face relaxed slightly with his compliance, though she remained as bored looking as she usually did. She waited, and he began to pull on the various latches and ties on his armor. Normally, she would have assisted without any hesitation, but seeing him, actually seeing his face for the first time caught her off guard. She had expected someone rugged, with strong features and a commanding aura. While his aura still called to be attention, the other details weren't what she had expected. They were softer. More pleasant.

Arterion was pale, enough where she could see a faded outline of dirt where the slits of his helm allowed light to pass through to his skin. He had longer dark hair, a stark contrast to his light complexion. She made note of the scar on his left eye, but didn’t ask. It was common for soldiers to have scars. No, Tolainnea was making a mental note of the uncommon gray eye color. They were just details, unique qualities that defined Arterion from another soldier, but it was far better than conversing with a helmet.

Tolainnea snapped herself out of her prolonged observation and extended a hand to assist Arterion without a word, he could have stopped her if he wanted.

“Thank you, Arterion.” Tolainnea replied. “It is good that I know you, your body that is. I know it is inconvenient, but it is important.”

With his armor gone, Tolainnea could finally focus on the very basic of her intentions. She placed her hands on his chest. The white tattoos on her hand began to glow, as they did with every arcane interaction, all the way up her arms and face until she could hear his heart beating instead of her own. If it were anyone but Tolainnea they might find the situation quite invasive and rather…

Awkward.

“It may feel warm.” Tolainnea explained. Her eyes stared through him, focused on listening to the rhythm of his heart.

With a huff, Arterion gave in to the inspection, if only to speed things up. No one would dare walk in without a summon, but that didn’t assuage his fears that someone would catch a glimpse of… this, and think something improper was going down. His fingers twitched idly at his sides in search of his blade, which had already been set aside. Damn. His threats here on out would have to be verbal until she let him go.

Her assessment was not wholly terrible. The typical healer’s touch was somewhat pleasant, and this was no different. His impatience got the better of him, as always, and he turned his head back to look at her-- only just then realizing that she was nearly at eye level.

He blinked owlishly and looked away. “You’ve done this for some time, haven’t you? Don’t answer-- the healers don’t take on just anyone, and Vraenor is careful about her healers.”

“You are correct, in both regards.” Tolainnea agreed. She still answered the former question, because she had another of her own. Something that didn’t quite make sense given his irritable attitude towards her. “I have been practicing the art of healing since I was a child, much longer than most students. You could not have known that it seems. If I may, I would ask you a question.”

She moved one of her hands up and tentatively brushed some of the hairs from his forehead, before gently placing her middle three fingers in the center of his forehead. It didn’t take long for her to determine he was exhausted. Had he slept at all recently? She frowned. Perhaps that was the reason he was irritable. Tolainnea focused and allowed him some of her own energy, keeping her hands steady, one still on his chest, the other still gently on his forehead. Her golden eyes finally seemed to be looking at him rather than through him.

“Perhaps another time.” Tolainnea slowly removed her hands and stepped away from Arterion. She took up his helmet from the desk nearby in both hands and held it out for him. “I will return tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Arterion murmured thoughtfully. “There will be time for… chatting, tomorrow. Perhaps there will be time to further discuss your arrangements then.” Feeling exposed without his armor, especially now that her touch still lingered, Arterion bid her goodbye, and fetched his armor.

He would indeed be resting well protected when he got the chance..
 
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When the morning came, Kieran found a letter sealed with black wax slid under his door after most of his morning routine was finished. His interrogators in the Fell Maidens had begun their work.

The Emperor of Vraenor found sloth to be such a displeasing trait, and he took steps that ensured his machinations would continue even after he had closed his eyes. In this case, the roundup and detainment of potential suspects who fit the description the assassin had given him. There were four altogether after eliminating three other potential suspects of similar descriptions. If he felt inclined to do so later on, the monarch himself considered the possibility of interrogating them on his own terms after his daily sparring with his most trusted friend. The idea delighted him for a moment, but he quickly reconsidered- if he were to do the interrogations, there wouldn't be nearly as much breath drawn afterward than if the professionals didn't. It was better to let the Fell Maidens do it while his heels continued to cool from the previous night's revelations.

The letter also brought him a surprise- a ring that had been found in the streets near some dried blood by one of the Maidens when they were on patrol. A ring he recognized. This was most disconcerting, and it definitely warranted a private discussion with his general later.

But, for now, it was time to get dressed.

After twisting the ring on his right hand to affirm its presence and releasing some his magic to add to the gem's store, he moved over to the small closet and pulled out a longsleeved grey tunic with a mandarin collar, sliding it overtop a fresh white undertunic. While these clothes were designed and more often worn in much colder climates, they were still light and breathed well enough that they served well when in fewer layers. Fetching a pair of dark blue trousers- similar to what he wore underneath his armor- he simply slid on his footwear and his baldric afterward, his weapons hanging from his waist afore grabbing his citrine necklace and his violet coat before going on his way. His staff would appear in his hand should he need to call for it. After ensuring he placed the ring and the letter in one of his inner pockets, he continued out the door and on his way.

As he walked, he was greeted by a few aides, informing him the meeting room was ready while also feeding him a report of a strange wizard and a giant bird chasing a cat through the army's main camp, but Kieran knew far better than to even try and touch that mess. Tim was a weird fellow, to put it lightly, and the emperor made no attempt to quantify that weirdness lest he might lose his own sanity in the process.

For the time being, however, he sent for the involved parties to begin the morning's deliberations. The original plan, of course, had been to begin at dusk the previous day after they had all eaten, Kieran could forgive their absence to a degree as they at least honored his condition that they remained within the city walls. That, and the small incident between the assassin and the Fell Maiden Sypha had brought a location or two to his attention for the Aumsláegr to watch with great interest as potential hiding-places for any Shaodoran spies or informants.

Opening the doors to the room itself- a simple room with bookcases and cabinets lining the walls with a large, ovaloid table and chairs all around of equal make- Kieran simply took to sit himself at the head as he awaited his companions and newfound colleagues after taking a sour apple from one of the bowls of fruit that served as refreshments upon the table itself to serve as a light breakfast as he read some of the reports and documents that awaited him as tools awaited a mason. This would be a most interesting day as he found himself cool in the shadows, just short of the morning light that had begun to pass from the windows affixed upon the wall behind behind him.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long for all the necessary parties to convene.

In total, the Vraenoran objectives were only three in number; to begin laying the groundwork for the reclamation of Beo, to set up a proper meeting between the two monarchs, and to set up a formal truce that could remain in effect until a proper treaty could be ratified by both nations.

The first point of order, sadly, never came to fruition as the emperor took to an initial prodding to see if the Shaodorans would acknowledge the new borders of Vraenor after the annexation of Ildir as a new territory. According to their envoy, the ability to draw or acknowledge borders was a right exclusive to the throne and only rarely authorized for discussion by diplomatic envoys, with the same applying to greater affairs such as the ratification of treaties. Kieran acknowledged this and cursed slightly in the back of his mind, but the Pale did have some suspicion that this was likely to be the case as is.

Thankfully, the envoy's admission that only her monarch could do such things carried Kieran and his counsel well into the next point, the sheer necessity of a meeting between the two heads of state. To this extent, it had appeared that the Azure King had agreed with the Pale. One of the envoy's counsel produced a shimmering gem carved into a small sphere no larger than an inch in diameter, mounted upon a thin copper disk twice the diameter of the carved gem (the gem itself being an exquisitely pure paraiba tourmaline). Placing it upon the table, the council that had brought out the gem invoked a small spell to channel magic into it, after which a small projection no taller than a foot in height of the Azure King, Kaeras Dmiviran Sarpetor himself, with sound projecting from the image as if the monarch was at the negotiating table in person.

The projection itself was brief but cordial. The king's message was warm but calculated and rehearsed, natural though it might seem. It stated that the gem itself would act as a standing invitation to the Emperor of Vraenor and his closest to come to the Jade Palace in Veles so that they may discuss matters that involved both of their nations, primarily a formal treaty between the two nations. Furthermore, the shard of the monarch also stated that the gem would act as a token of safe passage for the emperor and whomsoever accompanied him to the Jade Palace. and offered an invitation to attend a ball of some sort, a chance to make further allies in a foreign court. The message did make one thing in particular exceedingly clear- there was to be no violence by his group within Shaodor, or else there would be great retribution, a message Kieran completely understood. Overall, this message both intrigued Kieran and cleared his mind to worry about the negotiations themselves. Just as importantly, it made him wonder if the king had possessed such faith in this diplomatic mission from the outset? This envoy must be highly trusted if nothing else. But, as Kieran's father once told him, a man desperate to preserve himself will find anything expendable.

After the message, however, Kieran and his cohorts presented only a handful of questions before tackling the utmost critical of their initial three objectives; the writing of formal (albeit temporary) truce, one that resembled a nonagression pact. The Vraenorans had used the records from the Ildiran archives in addition to their own knowledge to present a basic document to the Shaodorans, who in turn made seldom few suggestions regarding it. Once all was agreed upon and signed by the present members of both parties, the truce would remain into effect until either a formal treaty was ratified or until it was broken by either side. It was important to emphasize, however, that this truce did not act as a procurement of an alliance between the two nations, but rather as an assurance that there would be no open hostilities.

Once the meeting was complete, Kieran penned a personal letter to the Azure King in his own hand and sealed it with his ring, sending it with the envoy's own letter and a copy of the truce for the Shaodoran King to view. As a sign of good faith, the message was to be delivered by two Vraenoran riders and two Shaodoran riders. Once that was accounted for, Kieran immediately took to planning the logistics of the trip. Bearing in mind the assassin's words from the night before, he would keep his spymaster and his best friend close to ensure that if anyone were to betray him that he could make an immediate example.

The trip itself was projected to be twelve days long up the main roads connecting Ildir and Shaodor. As this was a diplomatic affair, they would keep their accompanying forces to a minimum as a sign of good faith. Kieran himself selected the First Cohort of the Aumsláegr and the Third Company of the Fell Maidens to accompany him, as well as the Boartusk Company due to their highly praised performance during the conflict. Kieran also instructed his dear friend to select one of the cohorts of the Drachenkrieger to follow him as they moved, allowing for a total force that would serve to impress any onlookers but still be maneuverable enough for a haste retreat to friendly territory should an act of bad faith come about and lead to violence.

Overall, Kieran was pleased for the time being.



The next ten days passed rather quickly. It had taken two days in total to prepare all parties involved for the trek and ensure all the necessary logistics were handled. Another letter sealed with black wax had come into the emperor's possesion, but he had dared not to share it, nor had he yet shared the discovery of the ring with his closest friend. Considering how enraged his old friend could become, it would do him better to share the news sometime during the trek when they were away from their holdings and from any major Shaodoran settlements, but after a point where he was already somewhat exhausted from the monotony of the march.

The eight days they had completed thus far closed most of the distance to reach Veles, and without incident between the Vraenoran contingent and the Shaodoran armed contingent that accompanied their envoy. The next four days would involve crossing some of the sands of the country, although the Shaodorans informed the Vraenorans that this wouldn't hamper their progress much due to the time of year and the route they were taking being filled with smalled oases before approaching the Great Oasis.

As they had done every day, the group broke to camp approximately two hours before dusk to capitalize on the remaining daylight since they days themselves had started to become shorter. The various Vraenoran tents all retained a square base and a generally uniform, varying in size based on the nature of it occupants with a small emblem on the main tent flap that denoted the occupants therein (typically by designating their cohort, company, and squad). The camp itself was organized in a concentric pattern with the emperor's tent in the center of it all, before expanding outwards as each company kept a similar means of organizing their tents for ease of location.

As the sun set on the horizon, illuminating the warm sands ahead of them, Kieran sat in his tent before a small, portable table as he examined the various information the forward party had relayed during the march, calling in his colleagues in order to mete out their plans and allow for their arrival at the Jade Palace to be a most beneficial one.
 
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Etienne kept quiet in all political and intrigue matters she wished to speak of to Belrick during their travel together in between the emperor and his cohorts. The men and women from the Emperor’s army would no doubt have their ears open and lips shut with her company at her side. Pleasantries were exchanged and if the Emperor had any questions regarding Shador, Etienne touched lightly on the subjects, if she deemed them unsafe to answer with detail.

It was a delicate matter, one Etienne didn’t wish to get too deeply involved in than she already was. She’d been sent instead of her husband; surely that meant something important, surely that meant His Majesty valued her time and work, and she wouldn't dare falter on her duty. After eight days had passed and the cohorts and her own people had been setting up their camp, orders were made and Etienne made certain that she and her company did not venture too far out of the camp’s line of sight.

Scattered palm trees, a few pink Phacelia and Barrel Cacti spotted the land in their vision. Etienne walked over to a clear oasis and sat down on a flat rock, mind wandering and contemplating about the events from a week ago and the further information Kainda had obtained from sleuthing around the servant’s quarters and kitchens in a... peculiar way. They’d caught on to certain mannerisms and behaviors that seemed out of line at times with the rest of the Vraenorans, body language that immediately disappeared without a trace when the Emperor was around.

There was no doubt in Etienne’s mind that someone had decided to play a dangerous game with Vraenor. She kept that information to herself, as she was certain the Emperor had already begun to take measures against the woman who’d last left his room for the night and did not wish to tread into his carefully laid nest while they had a temporary truce. Etienne called Belrick over for a short, brief meeting once he was finished with his business. They had to find out exactly who before they reached the Jade Palace.

Etienne stood up when Belrick approached and glanced around her. No one within earshot. She embraced her uncle for a few moments, as if it were spontaneous, and her eyes stared ahead at the sands. She whispered so low, he might've been able to hear the poison hanging on her breath. Whoever this spymaster was, they’d come for her company and had indeed, tried to frame them, though terribly so. During her time with the Ildirans and past visits, Etienne began to piece the situation together one by one.

“The spymaster is not who they think he is.”


@BlueFlameNikku
 
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Name: Belrick Farrow
Location: Ildir --> On the road
Current Mission: Uncover the plot
Mission Status: Being Cruel


Being on the road to the Jade Palace with all of these unfamiliar people made the half-elf uncomfortable to say the least. During the night he'd only allow himself the minimum hours of sleep he needed to function through the next day. His paranoia even drove him to occasionally inspect the caravan himself for blind spots in its security. It was a thin line that himself and Etienne were walking now and he wouldn't rest until they were in a safer situation. The meeting at the Jade Palace would be a key turning point and so he had to make sure everything would run smoothly. Of course the aged rogue knew all too well the likeliness of things running smoothly were always slim to none. Being back in familiar territory only supplied a minor amount of comfort.

Belrick had accompanied Eti to some relative solitude. He was of course caught off guard by the sudden embrace though he did return the affection. The Shadow's ears perked up at Etienne's nearly silent sentence. "The spymaster is not who they think he is."

~Flashback, 2 days before departure~
Cold, damp and dark was the par for the course for most dungeons the assassin had visited and this one was no different. Dimly lit torches flickered in the darkness of the hallways while the moans of the detained echoed lowly against the stone walls. Belrick had made special arrangements for the maid he'd come to visit. He received permission to be down here and do his work for once which was of course much easier on him, he wore his hood up along with a dark face cloth in order to hide his identity along with a few minor changed to his clothing and he informed the guard stationed just up the stairs to not come down no matter how much screaming they heard.

Upon reaching the cell that held the maid Belrick examined her through the bars. She had the same freckles and dark hair from before. She had a small frame and currently was now chained to the far wall by her wrists held above her head. Slightly malnourished, lightly bruised and exhausted. Good, they'd already softened her up for him. As he entered with the screech of old metal bars moving the woman looked up and fidgeted uncomfortably. Shutting the door behind him the masked Belrick swiftly approached the sitting woman, drawing a dagger mid stride his instantly held it to her throat and pinned her head to the wall by her hair with his other hand. The woman's eyes bulged in surprise and fright as he legs began kicking but stopped as she felt cold steel against her throat.

Belrick began to speak but he masked his own voice in a much deeper tone, doing his best to imitate more of a full human's voice. "No loose ends." As he said this the woman began to scream bloody murder for the guards she knew were just down the hall. "GUARDS GUARDS HEEELLLLPPPP GUUARRDS!!!" The deep voiced Belrick simply laughed as he slowly pulled the dagger away from the hysterical woman. "You think we wouldn't have bribed the guards before coming down here? Why does he leave such important work to such amateurs?" Belrick's plan was to fool the woman into thinking he was working for whomever was playing this deceptive game of framing. The woman spat back. "You bastard, I don't believe you. He'd never let me go like this, he cares! Besides, if that really were the case why is my blood not spilling all over the floor already?!" The deep voiced Belrick chuckled before pulling out a small vial, it was a dark purple with spots of black. "You really haven't understood this game have you? We can't have you dying in such an obvious manner now can we~?" As Belrick approached closer once again the woman started screaming upon the realization of what may be in that vial. "Wait wait please I--I-I'll give you anything just please don't!" Belrick clasped her mouth with one hand, holding it open as he stared right into her shaking eyes. "Oh don't you worry. I promise it won't be quick. I gotta have my fun too after all."

After the dark liquid was forced down the woman's throat Belrick casually walked to the other side of the cell and sat down against the wall, facing the woman with a stone cold glare as he waited for the effects to take hold. The woman waited in panic figuring what she just drank was poison she cursed at the man before her throwing out numerous names of whom she thought he could be. More leads that could be followed and or terminated. After a few more moments the woman's eyes started looking around sporadically as she could see thousands of pitch black spiders began coming out of the walls towards her, filling the room entirely. She screamed twice as loud as she had before and began flailing as the tiny creatures crawled all over her body and began encasing her. She looked over at the man that was a masked man but instead was now a hybrid of a human and spider with large fangs dripping with venom and four spider legs protruding from its back. She continued to scream louder and louder from the visions she was receiving from the Touch of Nightmares all the while Belrick watched in complete silence, unflinching and cold.

Nearly one hour later the woman lied there cradled on the floor shaking and pulsating. She'd screamed till her lungs gave out and her eyes were a sharp red now from her tears. Belrick administered the antidote to the woman to lessen the chances of her out right dying on behalf of her being the Emperor's prisoner though permanent psyche damage was a certainty. However, during the last hour she'd wheezed out one last name, Angelus Carlyle.

~Flashback End~

"Indeed Lady Etienne. He is in fact horrible at his job. I foresee a new position of spymaster to be opening in the near future."

@Kat
 
Quick collab with @AceSorcerer

After the tents had been pitched and the men had settled in for rest, Arterion found himself wandering throughout the encampment, restless, irritable, and itching for conflict.

Or perhaps he was simply overtired. That seemed a plausible explanation for why he paced, thoughts racing yet going nowhere, all the while that infinitesimal part of him, buried so deep it had been forgotten along the journey, began to think about that forsaken healer. Only the ringing clang of steel against drew him out of his own head and cooled his restlessness some, enough to bring a faint smile to his face. A spar. He could use a spar.

Kieran would be up. Breaking his back over some map or other, most likely, and just as much in need of some activity as Arterion.

Arterion turned sharply on his heel and made for Kieran’s tent. He peeked his through the flaps, and although his helmet was still firmly in place, his grin was almost too obvious. How long had it been since last they’d sparred? And now that they’d stopped for a respite, it seemed a perfect time for them to catch up. Arterion wasted no time in getting to the point.

“Spar with me. You’ve been cooped up in war rooms for too long-- it’ll do us both some good.”

"Even if we had doors, you wouldn't even knock, would you?"

The emperor sat at a small, wooden, foldable table in a collapsing oaken seat. His tent, which was one of the largest tents in the camp (the same size as Art's own as well as the war-tent), possessed a base of twenty-five by twenty-five feet along with four outer poles eight feet high and center poles ten feet high. The size mainly facilitated the use of the tent as an office from which Kieran could run the special affairs of the camp wherein Art could run most of the daily affairs of the armed contingent within his own while providing extra storage and living space for the necessary equipment, including their personal copies of the maps in the war-tent. Like in all tents, a piece of fabric identical to the material used to make the tent served as the primary flooring for the room, although Kieran used part of his bedroll as extra flooring when he preferred to.

With a sideline glance, Kieran sighed softly before popping his neck and rising to his feet- the emperor himself was only dressed in a tan shirt, dark blue trousers that typically accompanied his armor, and his boots as his arms, armor, and coat were resting in the corner. "Even then, I'd be in no position to refuse- you're absolutely right about needing to let off steam. Very well, then. I take it we're going by your usual method? Only swords, no magic or shields?"

“You hear me coming. Why waste the time?"

By all accounts, Arterion had a sixth sense when it came to these situations. He wouldn’t have barged in had Kieran been busy, but as he evidently was not, Arterion had no reservations about making his desire for a spar known out of the blue. He took Kierna’s acceptance graciously and exited the tent.

“There’s space outside the camp,” he said. “Meet me there. I’ll find us swords.”

Smaller, more suitable swords. Arterion couldn’t spar with a greatsword more than half the weight of his armor. The swords he carried outside the camp were freshly forged longswords, light in his hand and not quite dull enough for their purposes, but since when had he and Kieran worried over such things?

He drew a ring in the dirt with one of the swords, and staked the other in the center of it.

Kieran didn't waste much time finishing what little work he had before making his way over in the direction that the watchmen and the armorers had seen the armored behemoth travel. The emperor had put on his coat before exiting his tent, rolling back his sleeves back and applying wraps to his forearms and hands in anticipation of the rigors sparring with his old friend always brought about. Seeing the glistening of his friend's armor in the desert-adjacent sun, Kieran rolled his shoulders and began to stretch out his arms as he approached his old friend, taking off his coat as he moved forward. Setting it beneath one of the nearby trees, Kieran put his hands to his neck in order to give it a nice pop before sticking his hand out as a signal for his old friend to toss him one of of the blades before speaking further.

"Well, since you got here first, what're the rules this time around?"

He tossed him one of the swords. "Three strikes, as always. But when's the last time we followed such rules?"

Arterion outstretched his arm to test the balance of his blade. It floated like a wooden practice sword in his hand compared to the sheer size of his greatsword. He cut through the air before him once to adjust, then stepped back from the center of the circle so he and Kieran were at an equal starting distance.

"Hit me, Kieran!"

The emperor caught the sword by the blade in his left hand, taking the hilt in his hilt in his right and swinging it around to get a sense for its weight and balance. Once that was done, Kieran slid his palm over the flat of it as he silently channeled a spell into it that produced a thin, hidden barrier around the blade that would make any contact seem as if the blade were blunt- something to ensure that neither he nor Arterion would be yelled at by the healers in their tents. Kieran's stance was firm and rigid, his right hand planted firmly just below the crossguard while his left was just slightly above the pommel. His hands were extended straight before him, just short of being locked as the blade's end titled slightly to the right and forward. He bent slightly at the knees, digging his heels into the ground as he figured how he would approach.

Kieran kept his wits close, feinting a lunge foward to poke at his fiend's defenses before proceeding to circle-step counterclockwise as he stuck in a diagonal lean down the left.
 

Tolainnea "Tola" Rota
Afternoon

Among the company of several healers, Tolainnea was certain they hardly cared nor wanted much for her presence. Ever since she had begun working directly for Arterion, Tolainnea had the distinct feeling the other students were going out of their way to outright ignore her. However, given the fact that the horned woman neither cared nor desired their company in return, the sidelong glares and passing sighs of disapproval went unheard. Had the denser woman taken two seconds of thought to the matter, it wouldn't have taken a genius to determine that the healers weren't really all that angry. Alas, Tolainnea didn't have two seconds to put to the situation and wasn't all that keen.

Most of them were jealous.

For eight days, Tolainnea checked on Arterion whether he wanted her to or not. Each time she requested he remove his armor, and each time the request was met with protest. It was the only consistent part of her new routine. Tolainnea remained determined. With each passing day she began to doubt that the General required her healing touch after all. It begged the question yet again as to just why he had chosen her, over all others, why he had chosen her when he hated the check ins and medical prodding so much. Did he need it? Need her? His grumblings and mild objection seemed to suggest as much. It was all she could think about as she rode in near silence a few paces behind him for those eight long days.

While the tents were going up, she had taken the time to wander. Finding nothing but sand on the nearby horizon made the stroll quite dull. A shame. She plucked at familiar plants, pocketing them to dry, and meandered into the shade of lone tree near the edge of camp. She didn't know it by name, it wasn't something that was common to Vraenor. Tolainnea sat herself down, intent on beginning a pet project, when she heard the sound of armor approaching from behind. It wasn't that of a foot soldier, although plenty of them had come and gone before her eyes. No, she knew that sound.

"Well, since you got here first, what're the rules this time around?"
"Three strikes, as always. But when's the last time we followed such rules?"

Tolainnea sighed. She gripped her horns in anxiety and groaned. Those were real blades they were sparring with. At least her skills would be put to good use if the Emperor landed a strike. Or rather, she could assist the loser should it come to real blows. From the shade of the trees, she was at first content with just watching as the two began to spar.

"Hit me, Kieran!"

Her knuckles tightened around her dark horns, skin ash white as they gripped more forcefully with the first clash of steel on steel. She had seen men spar before. It shouldn't have bothered her in the way it did, and yet, it made her feel like hurling into the dirt and sand at her feet. Her stomach was twisted into knots as if she had the flu, but Tolainnea knew she was perfectly healthy. Watching her Emperor and General go at it, knowing she was responsible for one of their lives? Maybe she had taken on more than she could handle. That had to be it. It was her nerves getting the better of her.

Tolainnea got to her feet, arms holding her sides as she cautiously stepped closer to the ring. Golden eyes observed from a safe distance, face unreadable and outwardly cold as stone - although that was simply a natural state of being for the woman. Rather, her anxiety manifested in the subtle twitch of her thumb against her shawl and the rapid palpitations of her heart. She didn't want Arterion to hurt himself. She didn't want anyone to get hurt of course, but she had been spending more time with him lately and his name was the first thing on the forefront of her mind. That, and she was now under his command and-

Wait. Why was she trying so hard to defend her own thoughts?

"Never a moment of rest it would seem..." Tolainnea shifted from one foot to the other so she could reach into her pack. Sifting through the contents, she confirmed there was an ample amount of bandages, should the loser need them. She shifted again, pulling at her shawl until it tickled the bottom of her jaw.

Tolainnea didn't know if she wanted to watch, but, he was her General, and it was her sworn duty to heal.
 
A Light Conversation
collab between @TheQueensGuard & @Kat

While the emperor and his lord high general had fun poking at each other with metal weapons, Etienne wandered the camp in search of new sources of information. A strange man with an extremely short stature- similar to the men she’d seen in Ildir before- and round belly stuck out to her. He seemed jovial with drink in hand and chattering amongst his fellow… small men, if they even could be considered that. She snorted a little and smoothed out her dress.

It was time to meet this person; he seemed well thought of and in a high position, perhaps she could coax some information out of him while he was drinking. Surely, he’d let a thing slip or two. Etienne walked over to the group, some of the men noticing the tall woman approach their master sergeant. She smiled and bowed her head to acknowledge the man’s presence. Who he was, what he was, it was all foreign to her.

She’d never seen this kind of race in Shaodor before; it begged the question of how this… person… ended up where he was now, loyal to Vraenor and the emperor.

“Excuse me, my name is Lady Etienne Farrow, may I?”

She subtly gestured towards the empty spot beside the gruff looking warrior. When he allowed her to sit next to him, she folded her hands over her lap and listened in on the conversation, preferring to be polite and not interrupt.

Who this woman was, Razzeck didn’t know. She was better-off than most, her dress and stature being a sure sign of it. She was attractive, causing several of his men to murmur to each other lowly, casting suggestive glances looks at the woman, before laughing with one another. “What brings yah’ out here Miss Farrow?” He asked, motioning for one of his men to bring another cup of ale. “A lady like yah’self seems better acquainted with lords and nobles rather than us soldiers.” One of the lower ranked troops brought out another mug of ale to him, and Razz nodded towards the woman. “It’s for the lass.” The private hesitated but brought the drink over to the woman. “I’m Master Sergeant Razzeck Redmore Ironblood, head of the Vraenor Boartusk Company! The strongest company the Empire has to offer.” The boast caused several of the drunken’ soldiers to raise their mugs in agreeance. “But I’m sure you’ve heard of us.” He chuckled some and took a big swig from his own drink.

She accepted the mug, but did not drink from it, preferring her wine over ale.

“You are warriors, I’m certain of that,” Etienne responded with a smile, “-but I’ve never seen men like you where I’m from. Were you born in Vraenor?”

“Aye, I was born in Vraenor. Dwarves are common enough, though those born outside the Empire often find my kind strange.” He paused to wipe some foam that was soaking in his beard. “But I am a proud Vraenoran-as much as any man.” He motioned towards her with his glass. “Tell me lass, yah’ didn’t come here to talk about my stature did yah’? That’d be an awfully borin’ conversation.”

“I’m sorry, sir. A woman is only curious. Tell me more about your company. You’re a sergeant? I hear the emperor was quite proud of you and your men on the battlefield.”

“Master Sergeant!” He corrected, before giving her a wide smile. “We here in the Boartusk live to make Emperor proud! We’re always in the thick of battle, the first and last ones to spill blood. Those bastards in Ildir didn’t stand a chance, did they boys?” He raised his cup in a toast, where many of his soldiers followed suite and gave a cheer.

“So it’s true. Your men fought brave and true. Why didn’t they stand a chance though? Weren’t their weapons just as advanced as the Vraenoran weaponry? It’s quite an intriguing concept to think about. Both sides fought with their dying breath and in the end, you won. That is truly an outstanding accomplishment. I can’t imagine how your enemies died in the heat of the battle.”

“It didn’t came down to heart, not weaponry.” Razz stated simply, before cutting himself off for a drink of ale. “I could’a been armed with a fork and came out on top! We were fighting for the Vraenor Empire. For the Emperor. When they didn’t kneel, that decided their fate.”

“That they did,” Etienne smiled warmly. “How long have you fought for your emperor? Did your parents before you fight for the emperor as well?”

“Since I was a young man. I joined this very company.” He beamed brightly. “Aye, my birth father was a soldier. I was told he was a courageous man who died in battle. My adopted father wasn’t a fighter, but he played his part in supporting the Empire.” He kicked the dirt lightly, adding. “He was a farmer, like I was going to be up until I joined the military.”

He finished off his cup and waved it towards Etienne. “Yah’ not much of a mead drinker’, huh lass? Haven’t touched yah’ cup once.”

Etienne glanced down at the cup she was holding in her hands. It was true, she wasn’t much of a mead drinker. She shook her head, “No, I’m not. I prefer wine.”

Razz frowned and sat his cup on the ground and stood. “‘Fraid we’re all outta’ wine Miss Etienne, though I could have one of the lads fetch some water, if you’d like.” He took the cup from her and took a drink of it, some of the foam sticking to his beard.

“Please don’t worry about me. I’m quite alright,” she smiled. “I enjoy listening to your story though. Please continue.”

Razz shrugged and made his way to his seat once again, content with his new cup of ale. “It wasn’t all glory at Ildir.” His tone was more somber than before as he rotated the cup in a circle, watching as his drink swirled around. “We lost some good men when we pushed to far through their line. Would’ve lost more if it weren’t for the healers.”

The other soldiers were beginning to leave the campfire and head towards their tents, others going to separate fires away from Razzeck’s. The dwarf took a drink and frowned. “Bloody fools, those bastards at Ildir. If they would’ve kneeled, my brothers-in-arms would still be breathing.”

Etienne felt her chest tighten at Razzeck’s sad tone. She felt a pang of sympathy for him and his men. It wasn’t easy losing people close to you… she knew that feeling very well.

“Remember though, they died with honor. They fought valiantly and wouldn’t want to see you or your men wallow in sadness. Your emperor won the battle. They’d want to see you celebrate that and be happy that this step is another step towards the future for your emperor.”

Razz nodded in agreeance. “Aye, they knew it and so do we. We fight for a just future, though the grim remembrance that we may not see that future is never pleasant. My anym yoth da Oramar.” He took a quick drink, exhaling with a smile. “My life for the Empire.”

“I’m sure you will have your time,” Etienne responded, awestruck at the foreign language Razzeck briefly spoke. “With our negotiation between Shaodor and the Vraenoran Empire, we will pave way for a better future. I will forewarn you though, the elves are not as open minded as my associates and I are. They will scrutinize you and your men in the beginning. Keep your chin up like you always have and many blessings will come your way.”

Razz smiled and nodded towards Etienne. “A few sharp ears’ won’t dampen my mood lass.” He stood from his stool and took one last long drink before tossing his second mug onto the ground beside his first. “I thank yah’ for the time yah’ spent out here with us Lady Etienne, but unless there are anymore questions needing answers, I’m ‘fraid I have other matters to attend to.”

“I won’t keep you any longer,” Etienne replied and stood up. She did have more questions, but it wasn’t strategic to dive right in. “The sun is setting. I’ll leave you to your duties. Thank you for having me, Sir Ironblood. Have a wonderful night.”

She curtsied with a slight nod of her head and left Razzeck be. Tomorrow would be a long day ahead.
 
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Name: Belrick Farrow
Location: At Camp
Current Mission: Gather Exploitative Information
Mission Status: Arterion is up to bat


With Lady Etienne heading off to converse with some rather stout soldiers Belrick decided instead to head towards the sparring emperor and general. It could be useful to asses their fighting ability. What he wasn't expected was a single horned woman dressed in a shawl watching them. The half-elf approached silently, the sword blows masking his already dull footsteps; stopping just behind the woman. Upon closer inspection she seemed to fit the description in a report he'd received not long after they'd left Ildir. One of his contacts had informed him of a horned woman entering General Arterion's tent late in the night. Judging from the subtle twitching of her thumb as she watched helped the assassin piece things together. Perhaps she cares about him. Belrick wondered for a moment if the feeling between them was mutual.

He looked back at the two men sparring passively noting the various offensive and defensive forms the two were utilizing. The man couldn't remember the last time he'd sparred against someone. Was it with his mentor all those years ago or was it with some upstart noble who ended up getting a new cut on his cheek? It all blurred together sometimes. Yet with all these thoughts Belrick found himself examining the woman once again as his mentor's words of wisdom replayed in his head. Knowing how to defeat your enemy in combat is crucial but being able to defeat your enemy before weapons are drawn is invaluable. If she does intend turn out to be something precious to the general that makes her a target for those with less then pleasant intentions. With deliberate intention Belrick's gaze slowly went from the woman to Arterion and stayed there until the general noticed the action. Once seen Belrick would tilt his head curiously to one side with a blank stare. He'd put on a sly smile before turning around and heading back the way he came though he made sure the horned woman heard him depart. With any luck the big oaf would confront him at some point and that would prove his theory. He honestly did wonder if this so called steel-clad general could be so easily manipulated.

With the sun setting Belrick resigned himself to his tent and sat at a small table where he looked over his latest incoming information before making sure his alchemist creations were up to stock. It would only be after all that if you was not disturbed would he retire for the night.

@Dipper @Lillian Gray