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    Blitzz

    A Friendly Brit
    The sun was beating down hard when the city of Kal'Vadash came into view over the distant dunes that lined the horizon. It was early afternoon, and Sebastius felt as though he would soon be drowning in the sweat that had culminated in his attire. It had been six days since the Archseer had left the Inquisition's temporary headquarters at the town of High Hill, and the journey into the desert had been unpleasant to say the least. Sebastius, along with King Isaac's bodyguard Ser Quinn and the ambassador Mandra Branning, had departed from the base at High Hill with an armed escort of 50 Inquisition soldiers and made their way into the heart of the Ari'iki Desert.

    The Li'ivi tribes that lived up here had been troublesome as of late, growing more and more so with every passing day. Isaac had called upon Sebastius especially, planning to use the Archseer's silver tongue to sway the Li'ivi to calm. To do so, he had to meet with their makeshift council, comprised of the chiefs of the seven largest clans in the desert, and appeal to them directly. From what Sebastius had been able to decipher, the Li'vi had become increasingly aggravated at the prospect of being adopted into a foreign Kingdom, and Sebastius had to assure them that they were simply under Qethia's protection, and were free to govern themselves. If possible, Isaac wanted to strike a military agreement. He wanted to incorporate them into Qethia's ranks; the Li'ivi survived on hunting, on foot or on the back of creatures. Qethia could use some skilled archers, and archers that could shoot from horseback seemed to appeal to Isaac.

    "Stop. We rest here for now." Sebastius heard Quinn's words and cursed him under his breath. The bastard had totally assumed control, and now he was stopping in a barren stretch of the desert with no shade when their destination was only a few miles away. Nevertheless, the column drew to a halt, and Sebastius dismounted. He had chosen a great white destrier for the journey, an enormous beast that looked strong enough to survive the journey. He led the horse by its reigns and tied it to a carriage; they had added several wooden outcrops to tie horses to and prevent them running away. Sebastius ripped of his cowl as he walked around to the rear of the carriage. His short blonde hair normally stood on end, but today it was limp and wet on top of his head. Sebastius looked young for his age, with brown eyes and blemish free skin even at the age of 43. He was of average height, and somewhat stocky in build, although not at all fat.

    Sebastius handed his metal canteen to a soldier at the back of the carriage, who swiftly filled it from one of the many barrels stored there. Sebastius almost snatched the drink back. The water was warm and not at all refreshing, and seemed to run out far too quickly. It was a wonder to Sebastius that anyone could survive out here. He sat slumped in the shade offered by the carriage, with his head leant back against the wheel. He removed his gloves and rolled his sleeves up, eager to reach Kal'Vadash and get into something more comfortable. Tattoos adorned both forearms; the left littered with Inquisition heraldry and the right coated in religious depictions. A couple of minutes later, Quinn came and sat next to him. "How are you holding up, old man?"

    "I'm an Archseer of the Inquisition," Sebastius' throat hurt when he spoke, "if this were any other situation, I'd have you flogged, but I'm too tired to care," Sebastius shot him a smile to let him know he was joking but wasn't quite sure if the Royal Guardsman had caught it. "Kal'Vadash isn't far, we should get moving." Sebastius stood and untied his horse, remounting the great white beast, while Quinn scrambled to his feet and started barking orders. Within minutes the convoy was on the move again.

    It was about three hours later when they reached the city, and the sun had begun to fall back down below the peaks of the buildings in Kal'Vadash. For desert tribesmen, the city was grand. A grand palace had been erected of sandstone, and all manor of animal skins and fine velvet had been used as decoration. Sebastius' convoy had been greeted with caution and they had been denied any immediate audience. Apparently some of the chiefs were absent and the council would have to wait until their return. In the meantime, Sebastius had been granted a room at the top of a tower, with spectacular view over the entire city. It wasn't large, but the prospect of such an incredible city in the middle of a place with no real resources was a major indicator of the initiative, knowledge and skill of the Li'ivi.

    The moon had come into view while Sebastius was sat at a desk, quill in hand. He was now naked apart from a pair of beige roughspun breaches, and the cool night air felt heavenly on his tired skin. He sipped from a cup of wine as he drew his letter to a conclusion, before sealing it and moving over to the window. He had been writing to inform King Isaac that they had reached the city. But now, as he gazed out over the city with the cool night's breeze on his face and a cup of wine in his hand, Sebastius could only wonder how Antemion was getting on.

    +++
    High Inquisitor Antemion stepped out of his cabin and onto the deck of the Brazen Arrow. The expedition had been at sea for over a week, but Antemion had lost count of the exact number of days by now. Four ships had left from the coastal city of Qikok, courtesy of Admiral Dante Rockwood, and they had been anchored for two days now. To the north, off the starboard side of the ship, all that could be seen was the vast, open expanse of the sea. That, and Chief Justicar Periscus double-bent retching into the water for about 6 hours a day. Why Periscus had volunteered to come along when he knew he got seasick was beyond Antemion. The young Justicar had taken to tying his long black hair back away from his face to avoid getting vomit caught in his locks, like he had in the first hour of the voyage.

    South, however, off the port side of the ship, was an entirely different scenario. Coastline was visible in the distance, lined with trees. Trees littered the coast left and right, as far as the eye could see. Nothing but trees. The dense forest made it seem as though there was no place to land, and so the ships had stayed anchored about a mile from the coast waiting to hear back from the King. For the last two days the crew had passed the time by gambling, sleeping, fighting, fishing, whatever they could do really. Antemion had been gifted the captain's cabin, and despite his best efforts to refuse, Antemion had spent the journey sleeping on a mattress while the rest of the crew tackled the hammocks below deck.

    Antemion had not washed in over a week, and knew he looked disgusting. His white hair was matted and dirty, hanging in clumps at the side of his face. His skin was rough and dry, and the bags under his eyes were prominent despite the good sleep he'd been having. He had run out of clothes and so had taken to recycling his outfits from the early days of the voyage. The crew had not known what to expect, and it seemed they had come under-prepared.

    Antemion took a walk along the length of the ship, all the way up to the bow, and stared out over the waves with his hands behind his back. he was itching to go ashore. Isaac had ordered initially that they land and assess the region as a potential colony, but the dense woodland had complicated matters. Antemion's expedition may have come to an end before it had begun. "Inquisitor." The captain of the vessel had appeared alongside Antemion while he was deep in thought, catching him off guard and making him jump, apparently much to the captain's amusement. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

    "We just received this letter. The cari flew in this morning. It bears the royal seal." Antemion raised an eyebrow and took the rolled up parchment from the captain. The wax seal broke cleanly in two, and Antemion hurriedly scanned the words. "What does it say, Sir?"

    "Ready the longboats and rally the men. We're going ashore."

    +++
    Layna was fighting hard to keep the tears from rolling down her face as Isaac's children knelt before their mother's grave. The Crying Gardens had been their mother's favourite place, and so with respect to her she was buried in the small graveyard at the temple. The young woman was glad for the roar of the waterfalls, for no one could hear her sniffing and softly whimpering. Layna's hair had fallen around her face, shielding her streaming eyes from view. Isaac was not present; he had been unable to make the journey due to his duties. But Ser Barrett had been sent as their escort.

    After a long time knelt in front of Neoma Herrin's grave, Robert was the first to stand. He walked forward and placed a large bouquet of flowers, hand-picked from the gardens this morning, at the base of the grave stone. He turned to his two brothers and two sisters, and noticed that Layna was weeping. The Prince helped his sister to her feet and took her into his arms, as she buried her face into his robes. "It's okay to cry Layna. No one will judge you." Robert's voice was soft and soothing, almost fatherly. At this she melted, full-on crying into her brother's tunic. "There is nothing I can say that will take the hurt away. Only time can heal this sort of wound. If crying helps, then cry."

    "I miss her," Layna was able to mutter between sobs.

    "We all do."
    Robert quickly felt a smaller pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as Alyssa exploded into tears as well. Robert used his arm to sweep her around in front, sheltering her between her older siblings. Ethan came along and put his enormous arms around the whole group, bringing them in tight. Marka, however, sat stone-faced on his knees, staring. "Marka? Marka, come here."

    "There's nothing you can do." Marka's voice was totally devoid of emotion. "She's gone, and that's that. Crying won't bring her back." Robert sighed. Of all the children, Marka had been hit hardest by their mother's death. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't talk to anyone or go outside unless forced to. After a solid ten minute embrace, the huddle broke up. "Come, we should go. Father wants us back by sundown tomorrow."

    "Robert, I need to have a word with you, if you wouldn't mind. In private," Ethan said. Robert nodded, and called over Ser Barrett to escort his siblings back to their lodgings for the night. Alone, the Herrin half-brothers began to walk slowly through the gardens. "It's Marka, Rob. I'm worried."

    "I know. I am too. He hasn't been himself at all."

    "No, It's more than that. this whole ordeal... I think there's something seriously wrong. If he carries on skipping meals like this, he's going to die."


    "We can't force him to eat."

    "No, I know we can't. We need to tackle this problem, and I think I know how."

    "Care to enlighten me? Or are you just going to leave it at that?" Ethan raised an eyebrow at Robert. Suddenly he understood what Ethan was suggesting. "No. We can't. I won't do it. That poor boy is falling to pieces and you want to put him through that?"

    "Rob, if there's anyone who can save him, it's Qathar. Maybe joining the Blessed will be exactly what he needs."

    "Ethan, he's fifteen! You want a fifteen year old boy, struggling with the loss of his mother, to volunteer for celibacy, beatings, and self-sacrifice just to overcome grief?"

    "I think it's a good path for the boy. The chances of him inheriting the throne at third in line are slim. He needs something like this."

    "Well you have no chance at inheriting, are you going to join the Blessed?"

    "Actually I wanted to talk to you about that as well. I'm sacred, Rob."

    "What? What by?"

    "Father wants me to join the Inquisition."

    "And that's a problem because? The Inquisition is an honourable path for anyone, especially a Royal Bastard. No offence of course."

    "None taken. I'm not cut out for that sort of work. I've adapted to life as a royal with no responsibilities, floating from woman to woman and giving the family a good image with the people. I'm not cut out for the war room. Father will listen to you. Please, don't let him do this."

    "Okay, I'll see what I can do. But I don't make any promises." He sighed. "You know you are the only bastard I've ever known to enjoy life as royalty? You really do take advantage."

    "Thank you, Rob."

    "We should really be getting back. Ser Barrett is probably struggling to handle three crying children. He's a soldier, not a parent." The two boys embraced for a final time, smiling at each other, before heading back along the trail that led out of the gardens, where their siblings were waiting for them on the road.
     
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    Dabiene Caristiana

    Your friendly neighborhood weirdo
    The Capital of Edemik was alight with the hustle and bustle of everyone in the fairly large city. It was peaceful in the Kingdom of Coradum. No wars, no fights, no financial worries for some time to come. Edemik was at the very center of the modest kingdom. Protected by a huge forest on all sides with a large mountain range splitting the land. Edemik rested in near the middle south west of Keep Cavdor, which was nestled in between the two mountain ranges.

    All wasn't completely peaceful, however. In Edemik, the Rax, or King argues with the Rasirik, or Prince. The Royal Hall never hearing peace for days, just long arguing and fighting. Finally the King has enough.

    "I will not allow this!" Rafursek bellowed at his son. How dare he not value tradition!

    "Look where this has brought us! The world must see us as savages! Being closed off from the world has painted us as barbarians! Demons! No one has willed to trade with us due to the forest! Soon we will be sitting ducks!" Urkiver roared back. They couldn't stay financially safe forever. What if foreigners decided to take over? What then? Sure they had a huge army but not as huge as others down south. Which brought his next point.

    "Look at the Estion Empire, father! They are fighting and becoming scoundrels, fighting over the last bit of anything they have left, leaving the mighty armies they have to ruin." He paused, looking the King right in the eyes. "And if they ever do unite, we will all be taken. As slaves no doubt!"

    Rafursek winced. Becoming a slave was horrible. The Corador people didn't believe in slavery. They believed in helping but that was all. Being too lazy or too cheap to do your own work or pay your workers and treat them like cattle was... dishonorable at best.

    The King looked at his son. Actually looked at him this time, long and hard. They had been fighting for days now on the future of the kingdom. The Ailoik clan diminished, leaving just the two of them. High Priestess Diddala having been no help, not telling him anything even after he groveled at her feet, begging to hear the will of the Gods. Sometimes he swore he had seen a smirk on her haunting and gaunt face. Rafursek was on his own as well as his son.

    "You are a real man, Urkiver. A man in country, a bear in words. Fierce and to the point. As is your namesake." He smiled sadly at his son. "I hate fighting like this..." He muttered to himself before sitting down on the throne steps.

    "And you are a real stubborn King. Such is yours." Urkiver smiled at him. Sitting beside his father and King, he gazed about the room in contemplation.

    "I fear our fighting has attracted attention." Rafursek whispered to him.

    "I hope it has." The Prince replied. At the King's questioning look his son elaborated. "If we were not fighting that would show we did not care about the Kingdom. Or the people within it. I would say the people should worry more if we did not fight out our differences, instead of roughing them out."

    Rafursek chuckled. "I can see reason in that light."

    Both of them stopped and listened to pounding footsteps climbing up stairs to the inner chamber. King and Prince stood at attention, argument forgotten.

    Barsurak, the Head War Rider ran toward them in haste, panting from running such a great distance. "My Rax! My Rasirik! The Huntresses found ships off the coast, they have been sitting there for days!"

    "The boats or the Huntresses? And how many are there?"

    "Both, my Rax. The boats have not sailed closer, the Huntresses refuse to leave the area in fear of attack! At least four have been spotted."


    A rasped voice called out to the three men, startling them. "Go see to them. These people must want something from us." Diddala stood in the hallway connecting to the bedrooms. These days she seemed very closed off and spending all of her time in her rooms. Rafursek brushed it off as old age. But Urkiver was always paranoid with her. There was always something about her that put him on edge. As such he tended to avoid her at all costs, his father often chastising him for it.

    "They sit there for a reason, Rax Rafursek. Ride fast, Urkiver." She turned to the Prince bowing before retreating to her quarters.

    "I must agree with her. Son, see what they want."


    Urkiver stared at his father for a few moments. The hall was quiet before he started to protest.

    "We do not know if they are simply resting! They have been there for days and--" Rafursek cut him off.

    "They could be waiting for their leader and his command. It can not hurt to be prepared. Ride fast."

    The King turned on his heel and went to his throne, no doubt weary of today's court sessions. Urkiver sighed and felt a hand on his shoulder. "Fear not, my Rasirik. I will ride along side you." Barsurak patted his shoulder before marching down the steps.

    "That gives me comfort, no matter how little it is." Urkiver muttered before glancing one last time at his father. Rafursek inclined his head, urging him to go. The Prince shook his head and followed Barsurak.

    "If you do not mind my words, Rax." Ciksudak, his royal guard called out.

    "Speak."

    "I believe he will make a fine King one day." The guard glanced at his liege.

    Rafursek took a deep breath. "I do hope so, my friend. I do hope so."
     
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    Blackdoom59

    BATMAN!
    Starhold, the jewel of Etumas. A city where merchants and nobles can flock together and count their coins while the slaves beneath them starve in the kennels, praying they drown on their piles of gold. The docks were filled with diversity, in many forms, but to outsiders and citizens both it was nothing but a home to the sailors. Every day, dozens of ships returned from far shores, their sails painted with the republic's colors. Each ship had it's own story, each sailor had his own ventures. One ship could be carrying the sweetest wine from Lotharine, another might be filled with slaves, ready to return to their task in lands far from home, and the last one could be just carrying stones and rocks from Quethia.
    Although just a dock, it was better than any goldmine found on Rotafar. Some would say 'Where there is gold, there are thieves' but that was hardly the case in Etumas. A new sailor might figure no one will notice a couple emperors missing from the treasures, but the next day he'd have no head left to figure something ever again. Even with all the abundance bestowed upon her, Etumas is still greedy and lustful, and smart enough to properly deal with tricksters. If you ever want something counted, be they coins, bottles or solders, hire an etumari, and pay him well.

    Beyond the docks lies one of the largest cities Rotafar has ever seen. Markets with a wealth of products, alleys with shady people and their shady deals, and finally the Family Palace. In Starhold the prestigious house Julia rules over the city with exigence. The Palace is large, guarded by skilled mercenaries and bodyguards that have been payed enough to die for the Grand Prince. Victor Julia, one of the oldest in the republic, is a ruler who is calm and calculated, as expected from a man of his age. Even though he doesn't suffer from any affliction age brings on the old, he's been blinded in his left eye. He rarely talks about his wound, calling it no more than a 'failed assassination attempt', and wears an eyepatch with an emperor on it, hence his nickname - Golden Eye. Victor has been the grand prince since he was 20, making him the oldest and most prosperous ruler of the republic in history. The republic endured many changes during his reign, changes that, in the end, brought nothing but more gold for Etumas and house Julia.

    At the balcony of the palace's tallest tower stood Marcus Julia, gazing upon the ageless sight of Rovardia, the province that hosted the capital. Forests, mountains, lakes, rivers, Rovardia had them all. It was a land desired by many, but promised to Marcus when Victor declared him the heir. Marcus was a handsome young man, with long brown departed hair, and a small stubble. He had a fine physique too, but despite all that he was not charming - his blue eyes were half opened most of the time, his mouth opening twice a day at best. He turned his sight to the city, taking in the atmosphere. As the heir, he isn't allowed to travel outside Starhold, and, due to his age, he's given little paperwork. How he spends his free time is a mystery to everyone in the family, given the fact he is still unmarried and has no children. Many question Victor's decision to elect Marcus as the heir. It is customary to elect the oldest member of the family as the heir, or at least the one with the most experience. Marcus's mind probably wonders about those political moves as well as his eyes are perusing the city. On a rooftop, close to the palace, he spots 3 hooded men, dressed in black robes, standing and talking in a circle. To Marcus, that is highly unusual, the few priests the republic hosts dress in white, and do not wear hoods. For a brief moment he examined them, thinking on who they might be, before a familiar hand rests atop his shoulder.

    "The meeting is about to begin, lad, we should get moving" said Nestor, the defence ministry and the supreme commander of the republican army. He was a foreigner, an Ex-Legionary of the Estion Empire, around 50 years old. Bald, dark beard, piercing black eyes, he seemed like the toughest man you'l meet in the republic. He was one of the few who supported Marcus as heir, and besides being Marcus's only supporter he probably was his only friend as well. Even though the heir was quiet, he enjoyed defeating Nestor's brilliant strategic mind on the chessboards whenever he had the chance.

    From the balcony, they went inside the tower, each entering a different door. Those doors led to the council chamber, an unusual design for a complicated system. The Grand Prince stood in a circular room, upon a large stone throne coated with gold and decorated with flowers and vines. Before him a large table, filled with papers, ink and quill, and even a caged cari. Around the circular room there were 7 columns, at the top of each being a small balcony of sorts. Councilors stood up on the balconies, a floor above the grand prince, each supposedly giving their advice to better the republic. 2 of the 7 spots were dedicated to esteemed members of the current ruling patrician family, one of them always saved for the heir. Used to be there were 19 columns, with 17 total ministries, but Victor saw fit to abolish the positions he deemed useless.

    The Grand Prince was always the one to properly announce the start of the council meeting, the councilors having to wait for him to start. Victor was immersed in his documents, writing almost passionately while ignoring the sore backs of his councilors. He waved around his hand, the cari releasing a squeak as Victor placed down his pen.

    "This meeting was called by Ministry of economy, Midas, patrician of Koraki." Victor spoke without looking up to any of the councilors. "Speak your mind, ministry."

    "Grand Prince, even after the harvest we still suffer from overpopulation. We simply do not produce enough to feed our people without importing. That might not be a problem now, but should our trade be threatened, the Republic will fall to starvation" Midas was a councilor for 8 years now, but a patrician for ten. He married a woman from the Etrusciani family, and, when the male members died out, his makeshift house took control of Koraki and the old family palace. A scheme as grand as that doesn't go unnoticed, during the 10 years of his reign there were a number of assassination attempts on him, all whom failed. Some of the councilors looked worried when they heard the cold truth from Midas, but Victor remained calm, his arms now crossed at his chest.

    "While I cannot provide an answer to this problem, there are new trade opportunities that might interest us. We're sitting on a pile of low-quality lumber and stone, why not build more trade posts? Our first interest would be the Noraki Tribes, they-" his words were cut short by Haris, the public order ministry. A slave turned noble that usually overstepped his boundaries. His knowledge of the simple men of the republic made him best suited for his position.

    "You want to trade with the Noraki? They haven't figured how to smelt iron or build ships, and you want us to give them ressources?"

    "Their wood is the best in Rotafar. We could do so much with it" Midas smiled at Haris, who was stubborn and angry as usual.

    "It can be more than trading. They have very few fishing settlements on the sea, we could send a fleet and try to take a chunk of the mainland. We'l have more lumber than we'd ever need that way" Nestor boldly suggested, probably wanting to lead the fleet himself.

    "Very logical" Haris opened his arms ironically, trying to impersonate Nestor "Let's invade the angry tribesmen with our top-quality warriors! I wouldn't expect anything less from you, ministry."

    "We're not the first to do this, slave!" He shouted angrily before directing his voice to Victor "The lotharines have been taking over isles for centuries, and now quethian fleets are spotted near the uncharted landmass above the Noraki Forest!"

    "They're not fighting natives, you brute! Besides, they have dedicated fleets and armies, ours are scattered, that's why we're a republic and not an empire like the plopshole you come from!"

    Small chuckles and sighs were shared amongst the councilors. The two had opposing ideologies, and their fights never failed to lighten up the atmosphere.

    "I could raise an army-" Nestor smirked for a fleeting moment before resuming his attitude "-imagine a thousand annoying slave twats like you complaining at the tribesmen - won't take long before they leave the fl*ffing forest."

    His voice was loud and intimidating as his fist marched down the table, pieces of paper flying off in the air "Enough!". The councilors stopped instantly, wanting to apologize, no doubt, but the Grand Prince continued, as if their interaction never happened
    "We'l send a harbringer and a few galleys, with an ambassador. He is to summon the chiefs that run the fishing villages and get them to accept trade with us. Should they refuse, I'l consider taking military action"

    "Understood, Grand Prince."

    "What about the other trade opportunities, ministry?"

    "Yes, well-" he was cut short by his wife, Iustinia Etrusciani - ministry of espionage. A woman of 34, spent her life travelling across Rotafar, now having informers on all corners of the world.

    "There have been rumors in Estion and Atharia both, of foreigners that have landed in strength, north of Saei'Aias." She spoke loudly, very uncommon for a spymaster, while twirling on the red hair that escaped her hood. Her words grabbed the attention of the whole council. There weren't foreign fleets on Rotafar's waters since the splinter war.

    "What do we know of them, these 'foreigners', ministry?"

    "It could be nothing but a rumor, Grand Prince. We'l have to wait and see if it turns true, but it might take a while for my informers to-"

    "We won't wait. If the rumors are true, those foreigners could have a wealth of unique resources never before seen. We should be the first to monopolize on them. Buy off a mercenary fleet of around 30 warships, and send 5 trade ships of our own, filled with gold, we might need to gift those foreigners."

    The councilors were shocked. The republic was known for paying off mercenaries to do their dirty work before, but an entire fleet of 30 ships could have costed a fortune.

    "Grand Prince, are you certain it's worth to spend so much on this matter? What if it turns out false?"

    "I am certain, send Marcus along with fleet. He'l represent our republic."

    Alonzo Julia frowned at Victor's decision. He was the oldest member of house Julia besides Victor, and always desired to be the heir. "Perhaps we should send in an ambassador who knows what his doing. Marcus here never traveled outside Etumas" Marcus remained quiet, as usual, waiting for Victor to back him up, as he always had "Then this is the perfect opportunity for my heir to practice diplomacy"

    "There's another problem, Grand Prince" with a warm and friendly vocie spoke Ajax of Solare, the ministry of diplomacy. "We're not on best terms with the Culem'drasei, they might get the wrong idea when they see such a fleet through their waters."

    Alonzo sighed "Why should we care what the brutes think of us? They have refused any agreement we tried to conduct so far!" he reminded the council, with a less then polite tone.

    "They're slow to trust anyone but themselves. We should be patient, they'l eventually see reason."

    "Send a cari to king Luke, warning him of our fleets beforehand, and mention that we mean no harm to his people." Victor sighed, there were so many matters that had to be taken care of, he had been into politics all his life but it never was that exhausting. "Now, is there anything else, or can we call of this meeting?"

    "There is one more possible trade route we can establish, but it's riskier then the past ones"

    "When we first established trade with Estion, some worried our ships would never return, but so far they have proved to be our most valuable trade partners. Whatever you have in mind, ministry-"

    "Solare" all of the councilors turned centered their view on him, few understanding what he was actually proposing.

    Quick to defend his kinsmen, Ajax stepped in "We're already trading with the solaran fleet, whenever they come through our waters or intersect our trade routes."

    Midas sighed, knowing Ajax would never agree to his proposal "I'm talking about the island, Solare. We can trade with the hollows, in spite of their condition, they have no reason to dis-"

    Ajax started talking over him "NO!" he shouted "We cannot trade with the hollows, they are mindless-" but Midas didn't hold back either, both performing their speeches at the same time, trying to prove their point "The Hollows will accept our trade, just like Estion!" "They aren't people, they are monsters, killers!" "Solare is the richest island in Rotafar, Ajax's judgement is clouded by his love of the solarans!" "We'l loose our ships to them, we will!"

    Victor stood up from his throne, slamming both his hands onto the table before proceeding to circle around the room. "Stand down! Both of you! We'l discuss this matter like civilized people!" The councilors became quiet, waiting for the grand prince to speak. "Now, what we need to consider is-" his words were cut short as one of the columns collapsed in a fiery explosion. Marcus managed to retreat from the balcony in time, but Victor was wounded and sent to the ground as stones fell on his body. The explosion was phenomenally large, one wall was completely razed, now a window for the people of Starhold to watch, if they can see past the smoke and flames.

    Victor's head was bleeding from the fall, with rocks covering his body. It was a wonder his eyepatch didn't fall off.He turned his head to the large door to the council chamber, now blocked by the top piece of the column. His vision was blurred and he could only hear echoes "Come on! Open this fl*ffing door! Get the Grand Prince!"

    As he turned his head around to the large whole in the wall he saw them - three hooded men in black robes. Two of them had longswords, wielding them in both hands while the third one didn't carry anything, but flames were forming on top of his left hand, lighting on top of his right. The Cari on the ground was screaming, brutally mashing his wings against his cage, trying to escape the smoke. Victor started taking the stones off his body as one of the hooded men slowly approached him. He held the sword towards Victor's chest as he spoke with an eerie voice "Your time has come, Grand Prince" Before he could trust his sword into Victor's heart, a bolt pierced his shoulder, and the man screamed before dropping his sword and falling to the ground next to Victor.

    The others looked over atop the other columns, to see crossbowmen on each balcony. As they were doing their best to avoid getting shot, the mage started throwing lighting bolts, killing the crossbowmen one by one. They weren't paying attention to Victor, whom managed to drag his body away from the stones and grab the sword of the man who got fired at. Slowly the hooded man stood up, and took one quick glance at Victor before the grand prince thrust the sword into the man's stomach. Victor slowly got up to his feet, one other hooded man running towards him. An overhead strike, Victor parried forcing the man's sword to hit the wall, and with a small stone he previously grabbed he struck the man in the head, forcing him to stagger back. The mage had already finished off the crossbowmen, and now turned to Victor, releasing a lightning bolt. The Grand Prince dropped the stone, and, as he held his hand up, a magical shield appeared, blocking off the lightning. The hooded man continued firing in a rapid succession, forcing Victor to his knees. He dropped his sword as ice spiraled around his arm up to his palm. The hooded man slowed down, apparently loosing the energy to cast more spells. Ice formed around victor's other hand as well, and during the pause the hooded man took, Victor released a freezing whirlwind that spiraled towards the man. The sheer power of the spell stopped incoming lightning bolts and forced the other swordsman to step out of the way and lean against the wall. The mage quickly formed a magical shield of his own, to protect from the incoming storm, but on impact his shield broke, the storm sending his freezing body against the wall, forcing stones to drop from the previously destroyed wall, one falling on the hooded man head, leaving him unconscious.

    Victor fell back on the ground, thinking he had just won the fight, but he was wrong. The swordsman skillfully avoided his spell, and was no rushing towards Victor to finish the job. There was no way Victor could stop the man's sword - he peacefully closed his eyes and awaited retribution. But his salvation came the very last second, the door opened, as the ice storm blew the stones out of the way, and Nestor came in with his sword and shield, bashing off the hooded man. They continued their duel for a little while, but the hooded man eventually overpowered him, knocking the sword out of his hand. Nestor blocked what was supposed to be a finishing blow and pushed forward with his shield, slowly taking the man closer and closer to the hole in the tower. One last push, and the hooded man fell out of the palace, to find death collapsing with the city streets. Nestor threw down his shield and went to check on the grand prince, whom was now relieved the situation had been taken care of. "You're wounded, grand prince! I'l get you to a healer!" as Nestor lifted Victor off the ground, placing Victor's arm on his shoulder, the old man pointed towards the unconscious mage. "That one..." he coughed, the smoke being too much for him to handle "Is alive. I want to be there when we question him". Nestor nodded and they both made their way into the center of the palace, guards entering the room to clean up and imprison the mage.

    Outside the council room, Marcus rushed towards his kinsman "Victor! What happened!?". "This was not the first assassination attempt and it won't be the last. You have a fleet to take over, go!" Marcus was left speechless by how calm Victor was "But-"
    "Now, Marcus. I will find out, one way or another, who sent the assassins. And I'l make sure he'l suffer, I'l make sure his whole family suffers."
     
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    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    standalone

    Current location of the Solaran Fleet circled above. Sorry about the picture being massive. I'm not sure how to crop out the white. I copy/pasted the map in pant and made a circle where the fleet is. Then uploaded it to my album on the site and copy/pasted it.​

    The gray sky looked down upon a mirror flat ocean. Its blue waters like an endless shifting carpet. Despite the noonday sun not a single ray could pierce the thick cloud cover. Rain had been expected for two days yet it had never come. The clouds only served to hide the sun's full light and dampen the spirits of both seagulls and men. No fish were splashing through the water. No birds flew through the air. No great kraken rose it gargantuan blue form to meet the surface world. Not even the wind bothered to blow with any great effort It would have been a completely silent day if not for a great fleet of ships huddled around a tiny island. The largest seafaring fleet the world had ever known. This was the Solaran Fleet, an awe inspiring collection of over 750 ships of all shapes and sizes that sheltered over 240,000 people. This fleet was all that was left of the once-proud Solaran people and their once-mighty Sun Kingdom. A huge island kingdom that ruled the seas over 300 years ago. In its hayday, the Sun Kingdom reached every part of the world. It had wealthy island colonies and mainland outposts backed and supported by the massive home island of Solare. The island's vast and wealthy merchant fleet fed it enough wealth to where it was bursting with it and its reserves of magical artifacts, ruins, and the precious mana crystals were so large that it controlled prices for the entire northern continent of Vardas.

    But the Solarans grew too wealthy, too powerful. They dabbled in dark magics to make their lives easier, the allowed themselves to become complacent and soon their own creations turned against them. The Hollows, the race of walking dead the Solarans created and largely became, drove them from their own homeland. But it was their own arrogance that destroyed it. Every Solaran remembers this, the Splinter War, and every Solaran guards against this. Service to others must come first. Service to the community, to family, to the Fleet must come first. For the Fleet is all they have left and if it does not stand united than it is doomed.

    Many vessels are as old as the war itself and maintaining them takes constant work. Every action a Solaran performs, everything he or she does, must benefit the fleet somehow. Resources are always scarce and there's never enough people to allow laziness or greed. Every adult is expected to do their part in some way. Even children are expected to serve. To learn from their elders, to explore the world around them, to obey and support their parents. Public service was a way of life for a Solaran. It was ingrained into every aspect of society. To outsiders it often seemed difficult, even desperate, but the community it generates, the certainty that everyone will help and support you, is what made the Solaran Fleet home.

    The island the fleet found was small and difficult to find. There were many islands such as this in Rotafar's oceans. Too small for most but valuable to the wise. The Solarans knew where many of these islands were and guarded that information very carefully. This particular island had great mineral wealth. A large vein of iron buried under sandstone and smaller veins of gold and jewels. Quartz crystals, amber topaz, even diamonds. The Solarans could use all of this and were here for as much as they could carry.

    An army of miners worked nodes all over the island and hauled their loads back to boats or wheeled them in carts. The boats would leave the shore when they could hold no more metal and sail to the large mining ships from where they birthed from. The cargo was taken aboard and the ore taken to smelters below decks. The smoke from their purifying work could be seen for miles around as their exhaust came up from walled grates and smokestacks on the ship. Above decks, marines, sailors and gunners ready with ballistas watched for any sign of trouble.

    Of all the ships of the Solaran Fleet, four stood out among all the rest. The Grain Maiden, the Marie Elena, The Sun Maiden and the Summer Harvest. These were the Solaran Cropships, massive behemoths of wood and metal with four cavernous decks. The topmost deck was reserved for the crew and all of their needs but the bottom three decks were devoted entirely to agriculture. Magically engineered, highly nutritious staple crops that grew in self-enriching soil and under carefully managed magelight. These ships were the literal breadbaskets of the Fleet and grew crops all day and all night. At over a kilometer long, fifty feet tall, and displacing millions of gallons of water they were the largest ships in the world and were held together as much by magical as mundane means. Seafood was ubiquitous in Solaran culture, and hundreds of fishing ships plied the outskirts of the fleet with nets and traps, but by itself it was never enough for such a huge population. Without these Cropships the fleet would starve.

    The mining that most of the fleet was engaged in was hard work and a battle of labor. But aboard the Grain Maiden another sort of battle was being waged. One of words and politics and just as backbreaking as the mining. The ship's garden plaza, a massive amphitheater of wooden benches and artificial grass covered by a massive reinforced glass skylight that was part of the surface deck, was populated by the Conclave. fifteen-hundred members, two from each ship, came here to represent their crew and plead their cases to each other. Consensus was reached on all proposed issues and the majority decision was acted upon. The Admiralty Board, made up of the five most senior Solaran Military leaders, served as mediators and defense councilors. Admiral Shala Rosenkov served as Head Mediator. Everyone, admirals and Conclave members, got one vote on most issues and Shala was the tiebreaker when necessary. She was an aging but venerable woman with a soldier's experience, a mediator's head and a grandmother's heart. Her long magenta dress had a high neck and went down to her ankles. A tall pair of black riding boots over white sheer leggings guarded her legs and a pair of long gloves that went past her elbow and were the same color as her dress guarded her arms and hands. It all went well with her pale, wrinkled skin, shoulder length brown and gray hair and kind wrinkled face. She was thin but not skin and bones and had a bearing that said she would carry herself. Overall she had aged very well. No one knew more about Solaran law or remembered more of their stories than her and she was looked upon as the de facto leader of the fleet when dealing with foreign nations. She was her people's "wise woman" and it was a role she had served for over forty years.

    Right now there was much need for her wisdom and experience. The Conclave had met to discuss a number of issues and they, like the mining, must be resolved as quickly as possible. The small silver bell she rang brought the cacophony of conversations to silence as she stood up to address everyone.

    "This Conclave is brought to order. Let us give thanks to Pelor, creator of all things, and to our ancestors. Who guided us, sustained us and enabled us to reach this season. Praise the Sun."

    "Praise the Sun." Everyone said in unison.

    "Now," Shala said. "There are many issues we must attend to today. There has been great change in the known world and much of it will involve the Fleet. We must take care to see that this is change for the better. Emily? Please hand me our list of events."

    A little girl of barely ten years old ran up to Shala. She was a spitting image of her grandmother and even wore the same style dress, though hers was bubblegum pink instead of magenta and she wasn't wearing gloves today. She handed her gramdmama a tightly rolled scroll and looked up to her waiting for approval.

    "Thank you sweetling." Shala said, smiling down at her granddaughter. That was all Emily needed to run along and play with the other children in the next room. Now that her duty was done.

    Shala unrolled the scroll and cleared her throat. "Our first order of business is the progress of our mining operations. Captain Idenna of the forge ship Vulcan will begin."

    "Thank you Admiral Rosenkov." The captain said. He was a middle aged balding man with a blacksmith's physique and who seemed more comfortable in leather armor working a forge than in the formal wear of a Captain. "Our ships have mined approximately eleven and a half tons of iron over the past week, along with two tons of gold and half a ton of various jewels. We estimate at least another 5 tons of all metals in the next four days. This will be more than enough to meet the Fleet's needs for the next several months. I therefore propose to trade our excess iron and any gold or jewels we don't need."

    "Agreed. Admiral Morrigan? How much raw materials would the Mage Fleet require at this time?"

    Admiral Livinia Morrigan, a black haired woman in her late forties, stood up to address the Conclave. Despite her age she was quite beautiful, having yet to find a trace of grey in her hair or wrinkles on her face. She was in a blue mage robe with a cloak enchanted to leave a trail of blue flower petals that disintegrated just after they hit the floor. She was a master of both Illusion and Destruction magic and had found ways to keep her Scars of Sacrifice small and easily missed. Despite her talent and beauty however she had a reputation for being conniving and manipulative, as if she studied everyone around her with a surgeon's eye. The experiments she was in charge of were very secretive and she discussed her work with almost no one but the other admirals.

    "The Mage Fleet's current projects require approximately ten percent of our allocated resources. The jewels we require must be as pure as possible and the gold and iron must be stamped into ingots. This means the most valuable of what we find cannot be sold to other kingdoms and we understand the fleet's need for money. However, these resources will lead to several important breakthroughs in both our offensive weapons and our communications abilities with both Fleet and foreign vessels. I ask that this Conclave grant the Mage Fleet these valuable resources so it may continue to do its essential work. The rest of the resources are more than enough to cover our current needs and the investment you make today will bring us one step closer to our people's greatest dream: the Homeland."

    Livinia was a persuasive speaker and many members of the Conclave were swayed before she was done speaking. Admiral Gabriel Tacitus, an aging but strong man in ivory plate armor adorned with gold, stood up. "I second Admiral Morrigan's proposal. I have seen her research myself and the applications are both sound and incredible. I call for an immediate vote."

    "Your motion has been recognized and is found to be in order Admiral Tacitus." Shala said. "The Conclave will now cast a vote to grant the Mage Fleet the best ten percent of our newly acquired precious metals. The rest will be allocated throughout the fleet and our surplus will be sold. Cast your votes now."

    Each Conclave member had two special crystals that were sensitive to touch. One glowed blue when held and was used to say "yes" in a vote. The other glowed red and was used to say "no." Shala had a special tablet made of another crystal that showed the number of "yes" and "no" votes. In just a few seconds the Conclave members had voted and a field of blue lights lit up the chamber.

    "By a unanimous vote Admiral Morrigan's proposal has been accepted. Processing of the gold, iron and jewels will begin immediately." Livinia smiled with satisfaction, as if knowing her victory was coming and now able to savor it. She sat back down. "Now comes the question of which kingdom to trade our resources too. I believe Admiral Tacitus has our latest intelligence reports?"

    "That is correct Admiral." Gabriel said as he stood up. "There have been many changes in the world of late and we must do all we can to see that the Fleet is better for them. The most urgent of which come from the Republic of Etumas. This morning we met with an Etumas courier ship with a letter from Ajax of Solare, the Minister of Diplomacy for Grand Prince Victor and the voice for our estranged brethren in those lands. The letter states that the Republic is considering trade with the Hollows."

    Everyone fell dead silent. They couldn't believe that the Etumans were even considering trading with the undead monsters that had taken Solare and made that entire stretch of sea a death zone for the last three hundred years. The only conclusion much of the Conclave could come up with is that the Grand Prince had simply gone insane. Shala was the first to speak up. "How do you recommend we proceed Admiral Tacitus?"

    Gabriel sighed and thought for a moment before continuing. The Hollows and the Etumas Solarans were probably the touchiest subjects in Solaran culture. Things that people preferred not to talk about and praising either could end polite conversation in a mess hall. The Hollows were touchy for obvious reasons but the Etumas Solarans were more complicated. Their origins dated back to 298 years ago, two years after the Splinter War, during the only time in the Fleet's history when it was divided. For two years the Solarans had been running and hiding from the Hollows, expecting for their enemy to have entire fleets scouring the waters for them. For the first few months they did and they had caused a great deal of damage before being destroyed. Now, with over a year of no sightings at all, the Admiralty Board decided that the Hollows had given up pursuit and started working with the Conclave on what exactly the Fleet was to do with itself. The majority of the Fleet wanted to gather its strength and retake Solare but a significant minority wanted to find a new home and start over. Either would be a massive undertaking and both were mutually exclusive so the issue was hotly debated. One admiral, who's name has now been forgotten, supported finding a new home and several members of the Conclave, and their ships, supported him. A schism developed, fights and riots broke out all across the fleet and another Splinter War was on the brink of starting. A war no one could afford and both sides would lose.

    Eventually a compromise was reached and the Unknown Admiral and the 30 ships loyal to him would leave the Fleet peacefully. This smaller fleet was welcomed into Etumas after helping one of its merchant princes in a war and its descendants were now part of the Republic's culture. At the time the Fleet viewed these people as traitors and branded them outcasts. They viewed the Fleet as warmongering and oppressive that wanted iron-fisted control over everything. The Fleet stayed away from Etumas for a hundred years out of protest. Even today, with Etumas being the Fleet's biggest trading partner and the Etumas Solarans their biggest supporters, their cultures have diverged in opposite directions, putting in doubt whether the Solaran people will ever be united again.

    "We need to establish what the Republic wants out of such a trade arrangement. If the Merchant Princes really are greedy enough to trade with the undead than we cannot support them and that will mean trouble for both us and the Etumas Solarans."

    "Perhaps this is a move by the Etumas Solarans themselves. One to reconcile with the Hollows and..." Admiral James Sable began before he was interrupted.

    "It is not." Gabriel said. "Ajax writes further that he adamantly refused the motion but gave no word as to whether he wishes our help in stopping the Etumans."

    "Well he bloody well should have." Admiral Edward Garrell said. "Anyone who trades with the Hollows is both insane and our enemy. That includes the Etuman Solarans if they get roped up in this."

    "How dare you even suggest that Garrell!" Sable shouted at him from across the table the five admirals sat at. "Great as our differences in thought are they are still our kin! We cannot turn against them under any circumstances! Besides, Ajax wouldn't dare suggest we resist the Etumans when he's their Minister of Diplomacy!"

    "Then maybe he's gone soft! We've all met the man. He calls himself Solaran but he's Etuman to the core! A fat, money hungry pig that's forgotten everything he is!"

    "He was born in Etumas! If he's not allowed to live the way he was born into because we don't like it than perhaps the problem is with us and not him!"

    "We're the pure Solarans in this world! Our ancestors stayed with the fleet while his ran and hid under the skirts of bankers and merchants with no honor!"

    "That's enough! Both of you!" Shala snapped, standing up and spreading her arms out at her sides with her gloved hands up. Sable and Garrell never liked each other and were famous for their fights in the Conclave. Dealing with them was like dealing with two small boys. "We are here to plan the future of the fleet, not throw stones at our kin in the Republic! We will draft a response to Ajax of Solare asking him to elaborate on the situation and what assistance he wants from the fleet. The Inquisiton's agents within the Republic will also be tasked with finding out as much as possible about this arrangement and the Etumas Solarans' reaction to it as it unfolds. As Head Mediator of the Conclave I declare this matter closed!"

    They both sat down, neither one willing to defy Shala in front of the Conclave. They were still admirals at the end of the day. Both men tried to ignore each other and remain professional while Shala moved on. "Now, let us get back to the matter at hand. Admiral Tacitus, what of the other kingdoms?"

    "The Qethians have a small fleet off of Coradum's northern shores. The two countries know next to nothing about each other while we have traded with both of them. Both have resources we need and we could get access to them if we offer to act as mediators. Coraduns are slow to trust outsiders and it's been years since we've had any dealings with them but there are records of all our transactions. I propose we sail to Coradum and propose this measure."

    "What makes you think their king...sorry, Rax, will listen to us?" Garrell said. "Our dealings with the last one ended bloody. Why not just trade with Qethia? We could work with them to take what we want from the Coroduns."

    "That's a bad idea. The Coraduns are proud and strong people and we won't be able to fight them. This is a chance to reconcile and make a new friend and Qethia is right in the way of the Hollows. They'll be in serious trouble if they start a war half a world away. I'd personally rather have two friends instead of one."

    "As would I Gabriel. You're right about Qethia and the Hollows. They're closer to Solare than any other kingdom. If we help them when the Hollows attack."

    "IF the Hollows attack."

    "IF the Hollows attack, they could openly help us. Give us a place to repair our ships, restock on supplies. Maybe even take back the Homeland. The Coradun culture is also violently opposed to the undead. They could definitely help us if we befriend them."

    "There's a lot of 'if's in that statement Admiral." Shala said, calming him down yet again. "Let's focus on what we can accomplish now. I think we all agree that they would both be valuable allies and that we stand to gain much if we help them start off on the right foot. One final topic we must discuss is food trade with Lotharine. Admiral Sable will explain."

    "As some of you know, Lotharine is one of the most powerful kingdoms in South Rotafar. It has one of the best navies in the world and is quite open to all people, even non-humans. Its king, Romaine Joffer, even has a harpy adviser. Trading our iron for food and lumber will significantly improve the Fleet's morale as well as give us another resource to trade to the Qethians and Coraduns. Best of all, Lotharine has enough gold and jewels while Qethia always seeks them. This lets us save our significant stockpile for them. We're a mere hundred miles from Lotharine's westernmost island and can meet within the day. Cementing a deal will guarantee a prosperous journey to Coradum. Besides, isn't Alice Tacitus on her way there to begin her pilgrimage?"

    "That's correct." Gabriel said. "She's on her way now to live under King Romain's protection and learn about their culture. I believe their finest admiral will be taking care of her. I would hope so, my daughter deserves nothing less."

    "She's going to be just fine Gabriel." Shala said reassuringly. "King Romain has sent his little Amilia to come live with use in exchange and I'm seeing to her personally. Remember that she is a small child away from her parents and on a ship for the first time. She is a guest of the Fleet and everyone's charge until she leaves. We will welcome her as such."

    Everyone nodded in agreement. Children were the future of the fleet and were their most precious resource, even more than the ships they lived on. Solaran parents could normally only have one child in the interest of population control but any found at sea, victims of pirate attacks or slaves were always welcome and loved. A foreign child coming to live among them was exciting for everyone. Everyone wanted to meet this little girl and Shala was looking forward to taking care of another little one. Emily would certainly welcome another girl to play with. "Than it's agreed. Trade routes will be opened with Lotharine, Qethia and Coradum This concludes this meeting of the Conclave. Praise the Sun."

    "Praise the sun."

    "Go in peace."

    ***
    Alice pulled her blue cloak tighter around her shoulders and pulled its hood up, guarding against the shivering that had nothing to do with the cold cloudy day or the spray of the gray sea. To say she was nervous would be the understatement of the century. She was aboard a frigate, the Silver Arrow, away from the Fleet for the first time in her life and being sent to live with the royals of a foreign nation. The crew of the Silver Arrow and the two small galleys that escorted it were the only things reminding her that she was not alone in the world.

    But this was for the best she had told herself. This was her Pilgrimage, her chance to become a woman and to prove she would serve her people by going out into the wide world away from fleet and home and finding something to take back. Something worthy of her return and the celebration with it. She had understood and accepted all her life that she would do this when she came of age but now that it was here? She was only sixteen. She felt far too young to leave her father and Aunt Shala and everyone else who loved her. She was terrified.

    Elspeth Adrasita, the Guardian of the Pilgrims, walked to the bow of the ship where Alice was. Compared to the small girl in the plain but elegant long blue dress and matching cloak Elspeth seemed a giant. She was a middle aged but strong woman of five and three quarters feet, almost a foot taller than her young charge. She wore black ebony plate armor, had a silver longsword at her side and a large kite shield with beautifully rendered Solaran colors on her back. Her tongue was as sharp as that of any princess and she was at least equal to any man on the battlefield but that wasn't what made her the Guardian. She was a teacher, a mentor and a surrogate mother to all Solaran Pilgrims and she had enough love to care for a dozen rowdy boys on their way to train as knights in Qethia or just one teenage girl being sent to Lotharine to learn the ways of their court. She cared for all.

    Elspeth could sense the fear and worry in Alice and laid a gentile plated hand on the girl's slender left shoulder.

    "Be at ease child. All will be well." She said softly.

    "I just want it to be over with." Alice said. "We're really doing this, I've accepted that, but why does it have to take so long? It's been two days since we left, how do I know when we're finally there? What do I have to look for?"

    "I would suggest by looking at the horizon. It may surprise you."

    That's when Alice saw it. A grand ship on the horizon. The Lotharingians were here!

    The two ships quickly found each other and connected gangplanks while the galleys took up a perimeter with the Lotharingian Admiral's own escorts. Elspeth brought Alice aboard and was greeted by the Admiral and a boy about Alice's age who she guessed was a prince or the son of a noble. Elspeth spoke up first while Alice stayed shy and quiet.

    "Admiral Cines, on behalf of the Solaran Fleet I thank you for this kind welcome. I am Inquisitor Elspeth Adrastia, captain of the Silver Arrow and Guardian of the Pilgrims. I present Alice Tacitus, daughter of Admrial Gabrial Tacitus and, for the near future, the newest member of King Romain's court. Say hello dear."

    "Hello." Alice squeaked, eyeing the handsome boy with the admiral but still terribly nervous.
     
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    Skyrimosity

    Well-Known Member
    King Romain sat in his majestic throne at the end of a long corridor, with large statues of various nature lining the corridor on each side. It was at this time that High General Varran Aurrus approached the King from the nearby Strategy room, within which were many highly detailed maps. "My King" said the General on one knee, "if I may inquire, why is it you wish to increase our iron reserves?"

    "Because, Varran, you as well as anybody know of our horrendous shortage. It is hard enough to supply our current military with weapons. What if we ever need a larger army, Varran? Are we to supply them with wooden swords? The Estion Empire sits on our borders and are an ever growing threat. And now I hear rumor of a new people landing to the north-east!"

    The High General simply nodded and walked out of the palace. "Guard" King Romain said to one of the heavily armored statue appearing men standing near him. "Fetch Prince Lucarn. Tell him I have an important announcement to make to him."

    Queen Alexandra Joffer looked up to her King from her lesser throne. "Are you sure about your plans for Lucarn?" King Romain simply nodded.

    The Guard bowed and walked up nearby stairs two floors to the living quarters of the Tertium Palace. He passed multiple doors before approaching the room of Prince Lucarn. He knocked, and moments later the seventeen year old Heir to the Throne opened the door. The Guard looked over him to see a number of books open on the Prince's bed. One of them read Grand Naval Engagements of Lotharingian History: An Analysis. "Your father requests your presence at the Throne. He has an announcement for you." Lucarn nodded, and followed the guard to the Throne.

    "Lucarn", King Romain said when he saw his son, "I have some news for you. I have decided I may not allow you to become a simple sailor." Lucarn's eyes filled with despair for a brief moment, for all the brightest and strongest men of Lotharine dreamed of a life in the mighty navy. He opened his mouth but only heard "Let me finish. Now, I know of your studies and how much you yearn for freedom on the sea. However, I cannot allow my heir to the throne to be in danger. As such, I shall assign you to the ship of Grand Admiral Oriton Cines, effective immediately."

    Lucarn was speechless. He'd be serving on the same ship as a military genius. He smiled and returned to his room, having not even noticed the silent Grand Admiral but feet behind him.
    "I'm sure he shall be an excellent student." Said Cines, in a voice that was smooth as silk and carried with it a power and authority that was of regal manner. He stood straight, wore the finest of military gear due his position, and had the look of a powerful man about him.

    "Yes, I have every assurance you will train him well. But keep him in line. He can't be left to roam freely due to his fortunate birthrights."

    The Grand Admiral nodded his head and left the room.

    "Artrius bless him!" the Queen said rather loudly.

    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Lucarn could not believe it. It has already been two days since he first set foot aboard Cines's ship. The ship, with a few escorts, was heading to Lotharine's westernmost island. The island was colonized only forty years ago as part of Lotharine's continued colonization of islands. The island was entirely tropical with high quality wood, and there was only one small town with one small port on it thus far.

    Amilia was less excited. "What if the Solarans are monsters? What if they eat little girls?" Amilia was the true aristocratic child of the Joffer family. Raised in luxury and only having friends within the nobility, she had little experience with non-Lotharingians. Like almost any little girl, she was nervous about the entire situation. She knew she would be going away from her family for a while, but didn't know how long.

    "Don't be silly Amilia. Only the Hollows eat little girls. And since the Solarans hate the Hollows, the Solarans surely wouldn't eat children." Amilia smiled, her unfounded worries put to rest for the moment. That's when all eyes spotted the Solaran ship. The Grand Admiral stood like some kind of statue on the deck of the ship, looking every bit as permanent as Lotharine itself. After what seemed like a century to Amilia but in reality was but a few minutes, the ships were side by side. A few of the Solarans came aboard.

    "Admiral Cines, on behalf of the Solaran Fleet I thank you for this kind welcome. I am Inquisitor Elspeth Adrastia, captain of the Silver Arrow and Guardian of the Pilgrims. I present Alice Tacitus, daughter of Admrial Gabrial Tacitus and, for the near future, the newest member of King Romain's court. Say hello dear."

    "Hello." Alice said, her nervousness showing.

    "A pleasure, Inquisitor. And please allow me to introduce you to the King's Heir, Prince Lucarn Joffer and the King's youngest child and only daughter, Amilia Joffer. Now, Inquisitor, I have had a meal and drink prepared in my cabin as is Lotharingian tradition whenever a meeting of such importance takes place. Would you be so kind as to join me for discussion?"

    The Inquisitor whispered a few last words to Alice before joining the Admiral. Lucarn and Alice looked at each other for a brief moment. Lucarn felt like it was an eternity. To the surprise of everyone around, Amilia ran up and hugged Alice. "Oh, you're a Solaran! You're nothing like I thought a Solaran would look like. No, you're beautiful! Her brief ecstasy at confirming the Solarans were indeed not monsters quickly led to new anxieties. "What is it like living with the fleet? Is it safe? Will I make any friends? I miss my friends."
    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    King Romain sat upon his throne in his castle, thinking about Amilia. He knew that, as King, he was supposed to make the best decisions for his Kingdom, but he really missed Amilia. He remembered well his reasoning for sending her. He knew very little about the functioning of the Solaran Fleet. It would be wrong to think of Amilia as a spy, but certainly the Solarans would be less guarding around a little girl. Besides, The Solaran Fleet was an extremely powerful force on the seas of Rotafar. If Lotharine could form an alliance, or a defensive treaty, or some kind of pact with them then they would be without a doubt the most powerful naval force in Rotafar.

    Romain then considered Lotharine's situation. News from Estion was troubling as the quiet Empire seemed to be preparing for something. And a rumor of an entire new people suddenly appearing somewhere was worrisome. These people would have had to come from somewhere else. And who knew what military capabilities they would be capable of. He signed an edict to be delivered to Varran Aurrus, authorizing an additional three-thousand soldiers to be raised. These troops would reinforce General Ratorious's army in Torin, the largest city near the Estion border. This would bring the total size of the Lotharingian army to an estimated 15,000 troops.
     

    Blitzz

    A Friendly Brit
    Sebastius jerked awake at the hammering sound on his door. Stretching, the man dragged himself to the door and undid the latch, opening it to see Ser Quinn at the door, helmet in hand. "My Lord," he had changed his tone since the little incident in the desert, "the final chief arrived in the early hours of the morning. They have agreed to see you later today. It is best you are ready before noon." The Archseer nodded, and Quin took his leave, darting off down the narrow corridor. The 'city' of Kal'Vadash had accommodated for the Qethians for two days now while the Li'ivi council assembled. It was about time they agreed to see him.

    Sebastius went about his morning routine, washing his face and shaving the stubble that had broken out overnight. A servant came and brought him a jug of juice and a plate of dried meat and bread. The juice was pale green, and tasted bitter. Still, he thanked the woman and gratefully devoured his breakfast. Sebastius put on a black shirt, with brown trousers and a dark green hooded sleeveless cloak. From the position of the sun in the sky, Sebastius guessed it was at least an hour from noon, so he sat to write another letter to his brother, Theodric.

    About two hours later, after the same servant woman had brought Sebastius lunch, Quinn arrived at his door once again. "They will see you now, my Lord."

    The walk to the large palace at the center of Kal'Vadash was fortunately short, but the constant beating of the midday sun harsh nonetheless. A tall and muscular man led Sebastius, Quinn and three other guards up to the meeting chamber, where a semi-circular table played host to all the chiefs. The chatter died upon his entrance.

    Sebastius began by bowing. "Greetings, great chiefs of the famed Li'ivi tribes. I am Archseer Sebastius of the Inquisition of Qathar, and I represent King Isaac in these negotiations between the Li'ivi of the Ari'iki desert and the people of the Kingdom of Qethia." Sebastius was met with a stony silence from the chiefs. He cleared his throat before continuing. "We are aware that there has been much tension building between our two peoples, and I have come to help ease this tension. I have been told that you are under the impression we have adopted you into our kingdom, but I can assure you this is not the case. You see, we have declared ourselves your protectors."

    "The Li'ivi need no protection."

    "At this time, no, you do not. But war is coming to our world, and all who are in this world shall suffer its war. The Li'ivi are undoubtedly a great people, with a tremendously complex and important culture, with knowledge, skills and power that many a mere mortal could only dream of possessing. Hence, we have declared ourselves your protectors, so that your great civilization is not lost."

    "Your words are poison, grasslander, I will not suffer them."

    "Now, Novaros, listen to the man. He speaks much sense. We need allies."

    "Our warriors outnumber them 3 to 1, what protection could they offer us?"

    "Our warriors don't have suits of steel or great metal blades."
    The chiefs squabbled back and forth pettily for a few minutes before Sebastius brought them to silence.

    "There is one other proposition I have been ordered to put before you, chiefs. King Isaac recognizes the military prowess of your people, with the marksmanship of your hunters being famed accross the world, and hopes to utilize this. We would be honored to extend our hand in military alliance, and have the brave warriors of the Li'ivi fight among the domineering army of Qethia." The chiefs were stunned into silence. Sebastius bowed, and exited the room swiftly.

    Back in his tower, Sebastius shared wine with Quinn. "What do you think? Will they accept?"

    "It was an artful performance my Lord, they'd be fools not to."

    "Hmmm. I cannot say I'm convinced."

    "Well, we either return to our King with an army behind us, or we return with no heads. Either way, I'm sure we'll know within a few days."

    "We shall see, Ser, we shall see."

    +++
    Antemion stared into the darkness between the tree trunks as the soldiers behind him tied the rowboats to stakes in the ground. He knew he shouldn't over think the situation, but he couldn't help but let his mind devise all sorts of horrifying monsters waiting to tear his men to pieces.

    "Inquisitor. We are done with the boats."

    "Very well. Let us push on then."
    The forest was thick, and the sun could barely creep through the dense canopy overhead as they marched. The men trudged for hours, and eventually reached a small clearing. Within the hour there were a dozen or so tents erected around a fire, and vegetables were stewing slowly in a pot of boiling water.

    The men were tired, and had begun to drift off, when they heard a rustling in the trees. Antemion was first to his feet, sword drawn. "Who's out there?" There was no reply. A twig snapped on the far side of the camp, and the unmistakable sound of a footstep to the left. There were about thirty men, and every single one of them now stood with their sword drawn, shoulder to shoulder in a circle. "Stand to! Hold your ground!" Antemion barked orders, waiting for the shadows in the woods to reveal themselves. After a few minutes that felt like hours, the branches directly opposite Antemion parted, and the Inquisitor's assailants revealed themselves.
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    DMpHroSc8D__1280x656.jpg


    Some people thought the Kelvashi were savages, barbarians, nothing more. However, those people had never visited the Kelvashi home continent, and had never witnessed Kelvash architecture. The Kelvashi were misunderstood by many. They didn't understand the culture.

    Jeviic stood in the shipyards of the Imperial City in full armor, watching the hustle and bustle around the docks. The Kelv'alor had come to the docks to personally meet the first group of people from this new continent who have come to join their culture. Closing his eyes, he remember when he first took the position of Kelv'alor. He was the Empire's top military general, and warrior, fighting against a strange breed that had fled from the west, called the Feroci. The current Kelv'alor fell in battle, and that's when Jeviic took charge. Driving the Feroci to the brink, Jeviic finally captured the leader of the group, who was weak willed, and gave up all the information of a land to the west, a new land called Rotafar. Jeviic gave the remaining Feroci a chance to join their culture, but they refused, saying they wouldn't bow to worms who should be underneath their feet. So Jeviic had them all killed after extracting as much info as possible. Almost immediately after this incident, the Kelvash military began outputting new supplies, building new ships. Eventually he sent a part of Dralshy'a to the new land to set up a forward operating base. Just recently, he had sent the rest of Dralshy'a, under the command of their Alor, Meralak, to the new continent. Jeviic's thoughts were broken by the new bloods approaching from the docks. Jeviic smilled. "Welcome... to the Imperial City."

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    thompson-goliath-broadside.jpg


    The spray of the sea splashed upon Meralak's face as he stood on the Bowsprit of his ship. He couldn't see a thing as there was a thick fog, however, his direction device said that he was heading due west. As his ship finally emerged from the fog, he was surprised to see two ships, one of medium size, one larger, sailing across his front. The Medium sized ship continued sailing, but the larger ship, what seemed like a battleship of some sort, seemed startled by the Arrival of the Kelvashi cruiser. It opened fire on Meralak's ship, however, the projectile missed. Out of the fog came the rest of Meralak's ships, fifteen cruisers, with smaller picket ships and troop transports in the rear. The little ship seemed to pick up speed as the Kelvash fleet opened fire on the battleship that had fired at Meralak. The battleship ended up exploding, although Meralak really had no idea why. He turned and watched as the little ship escaped. There was no honor in engaging a ship that seemed to be unarmed, so he let it go. Facing back west, he say the land mass of Rotafar in front of him, with the cove where three Kelvash ships had made anchor. Bringing his small fleet, made up of his clan, into the harbor, the new arrivals laid anchor as well, as the ships started unloading people and supplies into the Longboats. Dralshy'a had arrived at Rotafar in force. Meralak was the first of the new arrivals to set foot on shore. Waltzing forward to where Jinclon waited for him, he reached his hand out and grasped the mans forearm. "So your still alive, brother." Meralak said to Jinclon. Jinclon smiled, visible through the T-shaped visor of his helm. "How are you, Chieftain?" Jinclon asked, and Meralak responded: "Good, good. So, where is the combat at, brother?"

    "Most of the combat has died down. Those tribes that didn't join with us have retreated to who knows where. However, there is interesting animals, both dangerous and beautiful, to hunt. Collect yourself some trophies so you don't leave empty handed at least."

    "Goood, that sounds great. We shall hunt here, and bring back resources as well." He said, turning to the men who had come to shore behind him. "Lets Hunt!" He yelled out, and there was a resounding cheer that echoed out across the area.
     

    Dabiene Caristiana

    Your friendly neighborhood weirdo
    Urkiver and his loyal friend and head War Rider, Barsurak, rode hard for the last few hours. The horses however, showed no signs of tiring for they seemed to know the urgency of the situation they were in. They felt the anxiety of their riders and thus they kept flying over the hills and plains, and into the great forest that surrounded the country.

    Before leaving the capital they had sent word to a unit of Huntresses close by to where the ships were spotted. While riding they had a response. Urkiver had a beautiful hawk as a messenger and loyal companion. He had done well in delivering his message, receiving a treat from his master before flying off but keeping close.

    Finally they had made it to where the Huntresses were located. The Prince being briefed of the strangers movements before all of them settled for the night to rest.

    --------------------------------------------------

    The moon shone brightly overhead as a lone man tread quietly and carefully on the forest floor. He couldn't sleep. Were the strangers close by? What did they want? Did they desire to take what did not belong to them? The man was worried about his people and their future, for his father was stuck in his ways..

    --------------------------------------------------

    Urkiver sat down against a large tree. To be fair though, all the trees were large or huge. Very few were small or little. It seemed that Tarro did care for the forest, not that anyone would question it.

    The Prince looked up toward the sky that was barely visible, gazing at the brightly shining moon. It was full and seemingly alive, like it knew to keep watch over the Prince and his escort. "It seems you are watching over us, Limo. Thank you, Goddess."

    "She is not the only one watching over you, Son of Laomdar."

    Urkiver quickly stood and readied his great war axe. "Who are you?! How dare you tread here!" he shouted at the shadowy figure.

    The figure was oddly shaped. Its upper body looked human, but its lower half was something else entirely. And was that... fur?! And hooves?!

    "I am warning you! I will cut you down!"

    The figure did not move, nor did it speak. It simply stood there for a long time. Finally... It spoke.

    "I did not know Laomdar also had paranoid children. Still, it is far better to be cautious, than to run blindly into the thicket." The person or creature's voice was deep, commanding. Firm, yet calm.

    "Who are you!?" The Prince was anxious now. Obviously this being was of the wood, or some nearby village. A spirit perhaps?

    "I had thought you and the others would hear tales of the forest. You would have heard of me, perhaps."

    Urkiver lowered his weapon, suddenly compelled to be peaceful. "... Come in Limo's light.." he requested softly.

    The being was still for a time, before deciding to comply. Urkiver held his breath as the stranger was revealed, the hooves came first, then the chest. The stranger held a spear in his hand, much alike to the ones the Warriors of the Sun carried. The Prince's heart nearly stopped when the spirit was fully revealed.

    "You, you are..."

    "The guardian of the forest, yes. I am the one you call, Tarro. I am here, because I bear news that you must hear. For you and your people may be in danger."

    Tarro was magnificent. He wasn't huge or large by any means, but he still looked strong and powerful. Long black hair ran freely down his back. He had steely grey eyes that seemed to stare down into his soul. His stag like body was black and he also had stag antlers atop his head. He looked like he belonged in the forest, as he should be.

    "Danger?" Urkiver chuckled, "Is this also where you run off after giving me a cryptic message? I have read this story many times. Far too knowing."

    The guardian narrowed his eyes at the young warrior Prince. "This is no game or story, boy. Coradum and her people face many threats. To the north across the waters, the unholy dead wish revenge and blood. To the east, there lies a great foe that seeks to reap the land of her life. In the sea there are people who... Ride the waves with giant wooden hollow logs by the thousands. Across the sea there are those who wish to put down any who dare cross their path. To the south there are horrible savages, that when united, could bring the end to all that you know." The guardian paused, letting his words seek in. "There is also a great evil within Coradum's heart. You must be vigilant. You will find allies, if you are willing to change Coradum and her fate."

    Urkiver was stunned. He had no idea of such threats. His father always seemed so stressed and wrecked. Now he knew why..

    "What of the people in the east! The south! What of the others! Tell me! Give me answers!" The Prince pleaded to Tarro, wanting to lead and help his people the best he could.

    "I have done enough already. You are young, very young, and must experience certain things in life first hand. Leadership can not be learned from a book, or from words. You must live it. The strangers that have landed here, they are not far from here to the north. If words of wisdom are exchanged you will find brothers in arms. I could tell you all that you want to know, but you would not learn. I can not show favor. It is up to you on the fate of Coradum and the world beyond. Perhaps the world is to change. I do not yet know."

    They were silent for a moment, before the Prince muttered to himself. "It would still seem like something from a story."

    The guardian smiled at the young Prince. "Life is like a story, young one. Yet so much more. Come, I will ride you back to your brother and sisters in arms."

    "Ride?" the young man blinked owlishly at him.

    Tarro smiled before reaching out to him with his free hand.

    ---------------------------------------------------

    Dawn was fast approaching by the time they reached camp. No one seemed to noticed the Prince was gone, all of them sleeping. The horses of the huntresses looked on with disinterest, like they had seen a man-stag centaur being ridden by a human before.

    "This is where I leave you, young Prince," Tarro whispered while helping him off his back, "Tread lightly. And remember. We are always watching."

    "We..?" Before he could ask further he heard a yell.

    Barsurak must have just noticed his absence, for he was now bursting out of the tent and searching frantically for him. "Barsurak! Friend, I am here!" His loyal guard looked his way before running to his side, the huntresses starting to wake and climb out of their tents as well.

    "Why are you out here my Rasirik?! You should have been sleeping!" The loyal Rider was very worried about his charge's health.

    "Relax, brother. I was just with.." The Prince turned toward the direction where Tarro was, only to find him gone. In his place though was a haze. The grass leaving no trace of hoof prints.

    "A friend. I was with a friend."
    The Prince smiled and turned to his loyal guard.

    "My Prince?" The poor man was confused at his lord's answer.

    "Come, brother." Urkiver patted the head War rider on the back, "We must ride to the north."

    -----------------------------------------------------

    They had found the strange group in a clearing who appeared to be tired and hungry. Urkiver chuckled at their misfortune. Outsiders were typically cocky and once they would tread the thick forest they would get lost, confused, disoriented. Before starving to death, going mad, or dying of thirst. Although there were plenty of streams near the forest should they survive all that.

    The huntresses moved forward with bows drawn and purposefully attracting the outsider's attention. A single man barked orders to form up into a unique formation with the soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder tightly in a circle. The soldiers looked around frantically while their leader kept them firmly in place with a commanding voice.

    The Prince gave the signal to stay where they were before he and Barsurak rode slowly out into the open. Having their big axes sheathed and revealing themselves slowly was their idea to appear non-hostile. The Huntresses however had them surrounded, silently moving around and being hidden in the shadows. With one hand signal the outsiders would be showered with arrows on all sides. Urkiver did not want that to happen however. He hoped these people had what would be called 'common sense'.

    Clearing his throat he spoke to the strangers.

    "Sorqa. Hukveseik od Coradum. Cir hobams vuk vamera?" (Hello. Welcome to Coradum. Why have you come?)

    He hoped they got the gist of what he was saying by his hand gestures. Otherwise he would have to speak their tongue. And his speech was atrocious. It wasn't that he was dumb or had no knowledge. He just did not use it often. He waited their response.
     

    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    "A pleasure, Inquisitor. And please allow me to introduce you to the King's Heir, Prince Lucarn Joffer and the King's youngest child and only daughter, Amilia Joffer. Now, Inquisitor, I have had a meal and drink prepared in my cabin as is Lotharingian tradition whenever a meeting of such importance takes place. Would you be so kind as to join me for discussion?"

    "It would be my honor Admiral Cines. Thank you." Elspeth said. She had been vigilant all day and a hot meal with a cold spirit would be lovely. Alice looked terrified so before leaving Elspeth gently turned the poor girl by her shoulders and looked down at her with a warm smile, calming her down some. "The worst is over child and I promise the rest will fade quickly." She whispered. "There's no reason to be afraid. You're in good hands and so long as you keep the Fleet in your heart like I know you will you will never be alone. You're going to be just fine Alice."

    Alice smiled up at the kind inquisitor and they shared a silent hug. Elspeth's plate armor was surprisingly warm and it felt good against Alice's body. With a long blue dress with built-in gloves, a heavy matching cloak with a loose hood and white long underwear underneath she was plenty warm but Elspeth's embrace made her feel cozy. Her mind and stomach were put at ease and felt comforted as her caretaker left with the Admiral. Alice made ready to introduce herself to the equally nervous and quite handsome Prince Lucarn when the little girl, Amilia, suddenly ran up and hugged her around the waist.

    "Oh, you're a Solaran!" She squealed. "You're nothing like I thought a Solaran would look like. No, you're beautiful!" Alice was overcome with affection for the adorable little girl and found her relief of Alice not being some monster quite funny. "Aww!" She cooed. "Well thank you sweetheart! I'm not sure what you were expecting but I imagine it wasn't flattering! Glad I'm here to disappoint you!" Alice couldn't help but chuckle at how excited Amilia was. It was really cute.

    "What is it like living with the fleet? Is it safe? Will I make any friends? I miss my friends." She spit out her questions at a rapid-fire pace but they were all things a little girl would be concerned about and they all deserved sympathy and answers. Alice hugged Amilia again and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Well sweetheart, living with the fleet is very different than living in a castle as a princess. It's harder than what you're probably used to and you won't always be able to have nice things but it's also more exciting and there are always people that love you. Everybody can't wait to meet you and they've got a big party planned just for you. Admiral Shala's going to be taking care of you and her granddaughter Emily is about you're age. I think you guys are gonna be great friends and there's lots of other kids to play with if you're not. A whole ship full to be specific. I know how you feel about your friends though. I miss mine too."

    She paused for a moment to think of a way to make things easier.

    "I know. How about you and I write to each other? Have you been taught how to write yet? We can tell each other about our experiences and see how we like each other's homes and families. How does that sound?"

    Elspeth stole a glance at Alice and Amilia before heading into the captain's cabin with the admiral and smiled. It seemed that things were going very well.

    ***​
    To see the Solaran Fleet at sail was to see one of the wonders of the mortal world. It was easily the biggest fleet ever assembled by mortalkind but the beauty and discipline of its ships that made up the greater whole was a sight to behold. Every ship was coated in a steely gray primer that kept the wood dry and protected from the elements and from a distance it looked as if they were made of steel. Beautiful mixes of red, purple, mauve and magenta gave the ships color in life. Every ship from recently acquired vessels that still looked brand new to the oldest and most weathered ships were beautiful sights to behold. Every ship had some sort of bow statue and most were beautifully crafted granite, slate or shale. No two figureheads were the same and ranged from beautiful mermaids to alluring sirens to images of Pelor in his ivory plate armor, always ready to guide and protect His children. It failed to impress no one and depending on their intentions could produce awe or fear in any onlooker.

    Every ship knew its place and every one was sailing in perfect, practiced formation. The most valuable and vulnerable civilian ships were in the center of the fleet. This included cropships, fishing ships, hospital ships, mining and refining ships, forge ships and home ships. Large retrofitted cargo ships and transports where children, young parents, teachers and community elders lived and worked as families. Around the core were larger and sturdier civilian ships that could serve as a shield. Large freighters and cogs built to sail across oceans, large transports and merchant ships designed to carry people and valuable cargo such as gold or lyrium and keep them safe and "tuna ships." Large fishing ships designed to catch large, dangerous marine life such as whales, sharks, fortress crabs and giant tuna. Large aggressive fish common in the deep waters around 50 miles off of the Solaran coast. The next ring of the fleet were the large military ships. The battleships, drednoughts, cruisers and hammer ships. Most of the heavy and assault fleets. The last and farthest spread out ring of the fleet was the patrol fleet. The frigates, war galleys and galleys that were the eyes and ears of the fleet. The mage fleet and the critical mana-crystal driven communications it coordinated, was scattered throughout the fleet.

    At the head of the fleet was the frigate Resolute. The Flagship of the Patrol Fleet and Admiral Rosenkov's personal vessel. She was leading the fleet into the waters around Lotharine's westernmost island. The climate was cold but temperate and the skies were much clearer than the island the Fleet was getting its ore from. The Fleet had been able to exceed its goal over the week and now had just over fifteen tons of iron to trade. There was also several tons of excess fish including salmon, tilapia, octopus and eel. All collected over the past few months and all kept in magical stasis to stay fresh. The fish could be traded as is or, more likely, carved up and put into stasis-barrels for making Rhaam. Rhaam was an ancient Solaran Food staple that involved cutting a small slice of high-quality fish, laying it over a bit of rice and eating it as a small handheld morsal with a salty and spicy sauce made of soy, salt, water, and wasabi paste. As it was eaten raw the fish had to be as fresh as possible and this was the driving force behind advanced stasis magic the Solarans enjoyed. There hundreds of varieties of Rhaam, as many as there were edible sea creatures, and as the Fleet sailed the world they only found more. It was one of their biggest money-makers as it was an considered an exotic seafood. The Lotharingians in particular went crazy for it.

    As the Resolute neared the island the small port town came into view and the rest of the fleet was signaled to stop. A Lotharingian emissary was supposed to arrive shortly and was to meet with the Solaran delegation at the port town itself to discuss trade rights. The Resolute made its way to the docks and the officer on deck went into the captain's cabin to alert the admiral. Shala was at her desk reviewing readiness reports for the Patrol Fleet when she was summoned.

    "Admiral Rosenkov ma'am. We've arrived at the Lotharingian port town and are ready to go ashore. We'll be moored at the docks within the next few minutes." The young officer spoke quickly to try and cover the fact that he'd forgotten the name of the town.

    Shala looked up at him and removed her reading glasses. "Very well ensign. Are the Dauntless and the Firespray anchored yet? Admiral Sable and admiral Tacitus will be joining us."

    "Yes ma'am. Both ships have been anchored with the rest of the fleet and they're deploying boats now."

    "Very good ensign." Shala said, looking up and giving him a sly smile. "And it's Lantern by the way."

    "Admiral?" He asked, looking confused.

    "The town we're docking at? Its name is Lantern. Named after the great lighthouse that leads ships into the island harbor? Symbolic of the beacons that guard the Lotharingian frontier? Really ensign, you should know more about the people we're about to open negotiations with."

    The ensign was baffled that the admiral had put him on the spot and clearly ashamed at his ignorance. "Uhh...um...Yes Admiral. I-I'm sorry about that. I'll try and learn as much as I can to make up for it."

    "It's alright ensign." Shala said, giving the boy of barely 18 a grandmotherly smile. "Ignorance is nothing to be ashamed of. Unlike its unwelcome cousin stupidity, it can be remedied." She looked him over and seemed to relax a bit more. "Your name's Meerul right?"

    "Y-yes ma'am. Meerul. Roki Meerul." He said with a snap salute.

    "Well Roki, when was the last time you've been on dry land?"

    "Umm..." Roki said nervously. He took his sailor's cap off and started playing with it. "I...I-I've never actually been on land before Admiral. Never in my 18 years of life."

    "Really?" Shala said, feigning surprise to have a little fun with the boy. "Well by the Sun, we're going to change that! How would you like to come ashore with the delegation? We'll be in town for several days and you look like you need some shore leave."

    "...Really?" Roki said, dumbstruck by this offer. "Y...you're serious?"

    "As serious as a forge ship captain about smelting." She said, smiling.

    "Yes ma'am! Thank you ma'am! I...I'll get the boat ready right away! What should I bring? Should I bring money? I don't really have much since we don't use it but now that..."

    Shala silenced him with a hand and a chuckle. "Calm down child, it's alright. I and the other admirals will pay for anything you might want so you don't have to spend your own money uness you really want to. Just bring a change of clothes and whatever personal effects you might want. There are also two rules you need to remember while being with Admiral Rosenkov on shore leave. First, we leave ranks on the ship. You call me Shala and I call you Roki. Second, take advantage of this time to learn or experience something new. Meet someone new, try a new food or drink. Do something that's memorable and fun. Enjoy yourself: that's an order."

    Roki nodded and left to get ready. He, Shala, two attendants to help with the negotiation and take notes and two marines were waiting. The marines were in plate armor with open helmets. One was wielding a sword and shield, the other a long halberd. The two other admirals had similar retinues and there was another boat with another six marines. 24 Solarans in all. The marines rowed the boats to shore and tied them to the docks. The first step off the docks and onto dry land was a magic moment. It had been over a year since Shala had set foot on dry land and several years for others. Some, like Roki, had never done so and they were wide eyed at the scene before them.
     

    Toxius

    Frost Wolf
    Ah ahoy, shore ahead, our magnificent capital graces us lord.” One of the sailors shouted from up on the masts, shrouded by the black leather sails. The dark black storm clouds still thundering from far behind.

    Half sails lads, don’t want the hulls being ripped to sunders,” The helmsman bellowed, while navigating the rocky spikes which filled this stretch of Shallow Ocean. The man’s eye’s darted to every side, albeit carefully as to not miss a potential disaster, each second was more precious than his life. He held the lives of the crew, and his king on his head. The vicious waves tugged, begging for one slip of wheel, and the dead screamed echoes from the depths. The thick bullets of water, turned into a light drizzle. It was a sigh of relief, and the pounding of his heart slowed to a steady soft melodic beat as the ship edged into the dock. The crewmen latched, and the ship was fastened. The storm, albeit near, was no more a threat. It seemed a mysterious gust of wind would take it away from the capital, away from Culem'drasei and further out to sea.

    Luke stepped out of the warm cabin, off the ship, and onto the hard white rock which was chiseled into a study dock. Saei’aias, the ocean fortress which sat roughly north of Culem’drasei’s main island. Renowned for its stone architecture, and its cliffs which span great heights. The only ways up was in an elevator devised by the halfmen, or you could bargain with fate with a near impossible, certain death climb on jagged cliffs which is sharper than steel. There was rumored to be an old passage up, but that is long since forgotten.

    Lord Luke, I’m glad to have found you. There is a messenger here to see you, He is from Starhold, Etumas, the trader’s republic,” The humble man said, waiting for the lord’s response.

    Another dog, they've sent more gifts I would presume,” Luke replied, taking in the messenger’s details, his youthful, yet labour battered face. His slack posture, clearly the man must have been tired, running tasks back and forth.

    No my lord, only the messenger. He didn't even demand to see you, just strode right in yelling for you in the streets,” The man continued on, taking deep breaths when he could.

    You've done well, go and take a break, go visit an inn or something,” Luke walked past, handing the man quite a handsome amount of gold, his two bulky guards followed and stood by his side as the elevator slowly rose up to the city.

    ~~~~​

    So you are the Etumas dog that barked along my streets?” Luke shouted as he entered the keep’s main waiting hall, where the messenger was seated with a stunned expression which paused upon his face for a moment.

    “Yes, and no I am not a dog. I do however have an important message” The messenger stopped briefly to collect his thoughts.

    So what of it, speak hound,” Luke spoke harshly, as if fire spat from his mouth. The messenger frowned upon not being warmly welcome.

    “After all the gift’s we've brought, and this is how you treat an honoured guest?” The man asked, waiting to get an answer.

    You are no honoured guest, now speak before you spend the rest of your life in the gallows,

    “I am only here as a courtesy, to tell you of a fleet of ours that will be passing close to your waters. They mean no harm. I assure you that what I speak is truthful, now may I take my leave,”

    Very well leave, I have better things to attend to. Also, tell your lords that we will not be accepting anymore gifts,” Luke said, before he left the man to attend to his throne room.

    Don’t be so hard on them, Luke. Some of Etumas must mean well, if not all of them. They can’t be all greedy bastards, and they’re at least not as greedy as one particular halfman.” A cunning voice emitted from the corner of the hall and out came Stagnus, Luke’s primary advisor, friend and general. Stagnus was a burly man, who was bald with a number of scars and sported a thick, wild brown beard which more than just covered half his face. Stagnus often always spoke his mind on a number of decisions, whether or not he was entitled to a say. Luke admired that, and so made it customary for lords, nobles and knights to gain Stagnus’s approval if Luke wasn’t present. More than he saw, Stagnus always changed their plan for the better of it. Sometimes he changed their entire plan, till it wasn’t theirs but Stagnus’s plan.

    You know me, and you know them. They’ve been trying to get a hold on our trade for quite a time now. You think I should just let them? The other councilors do need to approve it first, by vote.

    Luke, you could always make them start small. Remember, a man will do anything to get what he truly wants and if they really want to trade, then they should do it on our terms, and on our prices. Just don’t anger them too much,

    I will consider it Stagnus, but for now let me retire to my throne, and then to my study. I have some notices to review, and important letters from some of the civilian senators that require my immediate attention." The was a look of concern on Luke's face.

    I see you off then my lord, be safe” Stagnus said his goodbye, before taking his leave. Luke marched off to the throne room, the light dulled down to an orangey tint. The sun was setting behind the storm clouds, it would be night soon.

    ~~~~​
    A few hours earlier – City streets
    ~~~~​

    A lone figure walked through the buzzing streets of the market, no rain would stop the crowd, at the corner was Durnsrim express and out was boy handing out papers. The figure took one, Durns serial killer plagued the headlines which read ‘Heartless found again’. The man chuckled to himself, and entered the warm dry inn. He slipped off his coat, drew down his hood and took a seat by the bar.

    Ice would suffice,” He told the man next to him.

    Why not fire, friend.” He replied.

    Ever so rare we get to see our founder, what must be the occasion?” The same man continued on.

    I need information on a minor thing, a couple of ships were recently sighted north by north east of here. War ships, fit to carry a good hundred men. They were armed to the teeth,

    Ships sighted north? This must be untrue,

    Nay, heard it from a fisher’s trawler, who happened to have been getting robbed at the time, said the fleet took out the pirate, and he made off like a rat,

    Did they follow?

    No, the fishermen didn’t have anything else to add. Now I’ve come to you, this is where you are most proficient.

    It will be done my lord, Also, Vanic said the ingredients are at the warehouse, like you asked. Tell me though, was it one of the city's trawlers?” The man spoke in a hushed tone.

    "I am not sure on that matter, but it definitely wasn't one of the city's ships that sunk," The was then man was quick to take his leave. The Figure, sat ever still by the bar, flipping through the paper. ‘City officials strive that you stay indoors at night, if you do have to travel at that time, carry a small weapon at all times, if you are however caught by the night guardsmen, you will be detained until morning and your lodging area will be searched for proof in connecting you to the murders. Report any suspicious activities.’ The hearts would do nicely for the new poison, but it seems the murders need to die down for now. Until the city stops looking for the killer or the operation could be moved to another one of the states.

    The inn lit up, the barkeep was stocking the fireplace with more wood. The figure, ordered a mug of ale. Waiting for the others to arrive.
     

    Blitzz

    A Friendly Brit
    Antemion stared at the two men that approached the group. Both wielded axes, and both approached slowly from the treeline. The one that spoke did so in a language unknown to Antemion, or any of the other Inquisition soldiers. Periscus moved up beside Antemion, sword drawn and ready to spill blood. Antemion quickly subdued the boy with a harsh glance. He stepped forward, to address the two in front of him, certain they would not have confronted them if it were truly only the two. They were likely surrounded, possibly by thousands. "I must apologize, I do not know your tongue." He moved out of the protective circle of militia soldiers. "My name is Antemion. I hail from a land far from here, a Kingdom known as Qethia. I have led these brave men over vast waters to venture here, to your land. This is a land unknown to my people, and in our thirst for knowledge, we have made an effort to learn more about it. I can assure you, we mean you no harm, we simply wish to learn the land. Do you have a superior at all that I may address?" Antemion didn't know if the men could understand him, but was well aware that if they couldn't then diplomacy was no longer an option. It would likely be the death of him, of Periscus, and of the brave 50 men who had accompanied him.

    +++
    The loud knock on his chamber door made Sebastius sit bolt upright in his chair. He had apparently dozed off, while writing yet another letter to his relatives in Qethia. He hadn't been sleeping well; the stress following his meeting with the Tribal Leaders had been too great to allow for sweet dreams. As far as he was aware, he had just spent his last weeks of precious life in a hostile land, in uncomfortable conditions, away from his home, his family, and the homeland that he had come to love so dearly. The though of never seeing his family was enough to keep him up for hours on end. He did not want to return to them as a head without its body.

    It had been three days since the meeting in Kal'Vadash's grand council chamber. He couldn't help but recall the bickering and squabbling among tribes, and this led him to contemplate whether the Li'ivi would split over the matter. Surely they wouldn't but it was a possibility. Although, it would undoubtedly intensify the poor relations with the defiant proportion of Li'ivi, and likely start a civil war in the Ari'iki Desert. In the time that had passed since, Sebastius had done very little. He had attempted to sketch the view from his window to bring home and show his family. Kal'Vadash was such a wonderful city, and it was unlikely they would return in the foreseeable future. He had eaten numerous dishes and drowned himself in fine wine. He had perused the market for a short time, but possessed no eligible currency, and was treated as an alien by the market vendors. IF Sebastius had been able to draw one conclusion, it was that the Li'ivi were a harsh people.

    Sebastius hauled himself from the chair, well aware of his state. His hair was matted and dirty, his face unwashed and beard untrimmed. He had not dressed properly yet, and currently wore nothing more then brown trousers cut off just below the knee. The brief walk accross the room was more gut-wrenching than anything he had ever experienced; could this be his lunch? Or was it a group of Li'ivi sent to retrieve his head. He opened the door slowly and cautiously, and was relieved to see Ser Quinn on the other side of the door, with his lunch. He welcomed the man in, and laid down on the bed with the wooden tray, hungrily gulping down the meat and bread in huge chunks. With his mouth still full to bursting, he began to speak. "Has the council reached a verdict?" The food muffled his speech, so he swallowed and then tried again.

    "Yes, my Lord. They have." Sebastius looked up. He hadn't actually expected a verdict.

    "And?"

    "They have asked for you directly, Archseer. You are expected there as soon as possible. I suggest you finish eating and then dress."Sebastius didn't need to be told twice. The meal took mere minutes to devour, and maybe ten later Sebastius was dressed. He had chosen a sleeveless black robe with white trims over a red shirt and black trousers and boots. A silver pendant hung around his neck, baring the heraldry of the Inquisition. He didn't pull the hood up, but let his blonde hair breathe. Escorted by four Li'ivi guards, who seemed as likely to join in with an attacker than to defend against them, Sebastius and Quinn made their way to the council chamber once more.

    The Tribal Leaders stood as he entered. Sebastius bowed before them, wearing a huge false grin on his face. "My Lords. A pleasure to be in your company again."

    "Save your words. We do not care for your pleasantries." It hadn't gotten off to a good start. "We have reached our decision. You will hear our terms. You will accept them, or you will not. And then you will return to your master, like the good dog you are."

    "We have decided that your words were true. We are glad that you have no intention of controlling us. The desert is our home, and we shall rule it as such."

    "However, if you claim to be our protectors, then you shall do just that. We want food, and building materials. Kal'Vadash is not sustainable, and neither are our food sources. We want better bows and spears so that we may hunt the sand creatures with improved proficiency."

    "However, in times of peace it is important that the Li'ivi stay united and focused on development. So, we will not promise you any military aid for the time being."

    "You have our terms. We will not hear any counter proposition. Do you accept?"

    "Yes, my Lords. Thank you." With that, Sebastius turned and walked out of the chamber, with Quinn in tow.

    +++
    It was late in the evening when the Herrin family finally sat down to dine in the grand hall of their palace. The food was extravagant, all manner of wild beast was laid out on the table before the King and his children, and a vast assortment of cheese, vegetables and confectionery accompanied it. The table was far from silent. The children laughed and joked, and Isaac encouraged them. A small band played upbeat music from the corner, and the numerous candles ensured the room was well lit. It was the happiest anyone had seen the family for a long time.

    Not long after the meal ended, the conversation died down. Robert turned to Layna. "Why don't you take Marka and Alyssa, and make sure they're ready for bed. The hour grows late." He looked at Ethan, who nodded.

    "I'll take my leave as well. I'll help Layna get the children ready for bed, then rejoin you both later in the eve." Both Robert and Isaac smiled, and watched as all four left the room.

    "And what of you, Robert? Should you not be off to bed as well?"

    "Actually, father, there was something I wanted to discuss with you. It's about Ethan."

    "Oh? Well, now I'm curious. Please, go on."

    "He came to me a few days past. When we were visiting mother." His voice quivered when he said that word. No matter how old or tough he got, he knew he would always long for his mother. "He's worried, father."

    "And why's that?" Isaac's face dropped and his voice adopted a serious tone.

    "He's worried that you want to send him off to the Inquisition."

    "It was a thought, yes. Why is that a worry?"

    "He's not cut out for that sort of life, father. We both know it. He doesn't have the spirit of adventure, the leadership or combat skills required. He knows it, too."

    "The Inquisition is an honora-"

    "I insisted that also. And yet he still asked that I speak with you. He wants a life of freedom."

    "You mean a life of exploiting being a royal bastard? No responsibilities, no boundaries. Of course that's what you meant."

    "Father, I am simply asking on Ethan's behalf that you reconsi-"

    "I have done for that bastard boy a great deal more than any other man of respectable birth would dare do. And when I decide what should become of him, that is what will become of him. Do I make myself clear?"

    "Yes father."

    "Good. Now go and make yourself ready to sleep. And I'll hear no more discussion on this matter."

    +++
    Captain Arias Hakkan stood perfectly still in his position atop the wall at Fort Redview. He had spent the last two hours gazing out between the battlements as the sun dipped in the sky and hid itself behind him. His large suit of plate armor glimmered in the dying light, and the wall had become eerily quiet over the last hour or so. Most of the men were enjoying kegs of ale in the grand hall. Hakkan, however, could not get enough of the view.

    The sun had fully descended, leaving Hakkan at the mercy of the torchlight, when he first heard the shouting. A few minutes later he could make out the torches. He quickly turned and shouted to the man who stood ready by a great bone horn, warning him of the incoming force. The great deep bellowing sound spurred a rush of men, armored and not, to the western wall.

    The force came closer and closer, and soon Hakkan could make out around 300 men. They were lightly armored, with crude weapons and no organisation. They were bellowing war cries and curses, and it didn't take long for the first arrow to fly, hitting a battlement and falling harmlessly to the floor. "Knock!" Around 100 archers were atop the wall, and all knocked an arrow in perfect union. "Draw!" The creak of the longbows in harmony was music to Hakkan's ears. "Fire!" 100 arrows whistled through the air, crashing into the front row of barbarians and sending them sprawling. This was the first time a Qethian for had been attacked by barbarians. "Men! Draw your swords, bare your blades! Move, with me!" The men that had gathered in the courtyard roared. There were near enough 1,500 men stationed at Fort Redview but only the Qytonari had been called upon for this fight.

    On the western wall the exit was through a large wooden gate. The 200 Qytonari marched out in four columns all side by side, 5 wide and 10 deep. They drew their enormous longswords in perfect unison, holding them upright alongside their armored faces. Even with a mere 200, the sound of synchronized marching resonated through the hills. It was as much an intimidation tactic as anything else. Another two barrages of arrows screamed overhead, smashing into the barbarian ranks. The dead were already many, but the barbarians would not fall back.

    Hakkan slashed upwards as the first barbarian charged, catching him under his unarmored arm and slicing it clean off, before a sideways swipe lopped his head clean off, and he moved on to the next. It was a slaughter. Hakkan moved forwards with purpose, parrying a wild axe swing and slicing the man clean in half accross his chest. He brought down two more with slices to the ribs and accross the abdomen. When the last barbarian had fallen, he removed his helmet and surveyed the carnage. "How many?" he asked his lieutenant.

    "We lost four, sir. May Qathar bless their souls."

    "May Qathar bless their souls," he repeated. "Bring our dead back for burial. Send a letter to the King, with your fastest Cari. Burn the rest." Hakkan and his guards returned to the Fort, as a flock of young boys rushed out to gather the bodies. He was met on the other side of the wall by another lieutenant. "They returned fire when we weren't expecting it, sir. We lost fourteen atop the wall."

    "May Qathar bless their souls. That makes 18 dead in total." 18 was the largest death toll in a fight against barbarians yet. If they were daring enough to attack Fort Redview, then it was a good bet that they were attacking other forts along the border, too. They had probably claimed the deserted fortress of Qarfell. "Make sure our letter lets the King know. And advise him to send a dispatch to Qarfell." Hakkan got a horrible feeling that this was just the beginning.
     

    Skyrimosity

    Well-Known Member
    Alice began to tell Amilia what life would be like aboard the Solarn ships. Her anxiety quickly began to turn into more of an excitement.

    "I know. How about you and I write to each other? Have you been taught how to write yet? We can tell each other about our experiences and see how we like each other's homes and families. How does that sound?"

    "Oh yes, that would be very nice. And since the fleet and Lotharine have so many ships it won't take long at all for messages to travel!" Amilia said quite excitedly. Lucarn was impressed with the way that Alice calmed his sister so quickly. And he was also impressed with Alice in general, of course.

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    The Lotharingian diplomat rushed down to greet the Solaran visitors. Normally he would have been stationed practically anywhere else but when the fleet was noticed near Lotharine that meant diplomats would be sent to any port city. He saw the flagship in harbor and the rest of the fleet anchored not too far behind. It was an impressive sight, so many Solaran ships in harbor.

    "Welcome, Solarans. My apologies for the less-than-adequate preparations but this is still a fairly new colony so not very lavish. Please follow me to the meeting room; it's in the governor's house just a fairly short walk away," he looked at some of the Solarans, a couple obviously having never seen land before, "which I hope won't be a problem."

    The diplomat led them to the most luxurious house on the island which, however, would not have been considered much had it been on the continental mainland. The meeting room was decorated quaintly and there were plenty of chairs available for the 24 Solarans but the marines did not sit.

    "Now that the setting is right to talk, let us talk. Would you like to begin the negotiations?"

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Meanwhile, in Lotharine, there was a sensation arising in the training camps near Torin. The camps were filled with new recruits that King Romain had authorized and, since Torin was deemed the most immediate city in danger should Estion attack, it would be bolstered. The sensation was a native Lotharingian named Romulus. Romulus had no formal training but upon first lifting a sword showed significant talent and potential. The other recruits were no match for his abilities.

    Quickly enough, veteran soldiers were training him and sparring against him; he was quickly an even or superior match for them. He was quickly being recognized as a once-in-a-generation soldier with an innate ability to fight. Varran Aurrus, High General, led the instruction of all new recruits. He took it upon himself to test the very limits of Romulus's abilities. By talking war strategies and tactics, Aurrus also discovered that Romulus had a vast knowledge of military tactics. He told Aurrus that he studied battles ever since he was young and had built a training yard on the outer edges of his farm.

    He was made a battalion leader and given the responsibility of one-hundred men, all of whom were rather underperforming new recruits. After a short period of time, Romulus has gained a higher position than seventy-five percent of soldiers can aspire to. Naturally, the average soldier began to greatly dislike him.

    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    King Romain was involved in a lengthy discussion with his Master Architect Jacques Rousseau. Rousseau had been recognized throughout the years as the chief designer in all of Lotharine and his work was heavily sought after. While normally taking commissions of an aristocratic variety, he was beckoned forth by the King himself.

    "Tell me again what you want me to do?

    "You heard me correctly, Rousseau. I want you to design a new ship. The biggest ship in the Lotharingian navy, capable of bringing unparalleled weaponry onto the seas. Our current dreadnoughts may seem large but they simply cannot be the pinnacle of our technology. I provide you full funding, within reason, to design the ship and upon approval will provide funding for you to build it."

    "But I have no experience with the Navy!"

    "Yes, I have thought of that. That is why I have," he beckoned at an assistant who brought the King a book, "an extensive collection of naval ship plans. Every current design and every model deemed impossible to build. Now, of course, this book may not ever, under any circumstances, leave Tertium. Therefore, I have bought you a house, which you will be escorted to, nearby."

    Rousseau did not want to embark on this challenge. But, there was a certain draw to it. The confidentiality of it all excited his creative genius. "Very well. I shall attempt it."
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    The creature had attacked the camp suddenly in the night, grabbing a Chitro in its mouth. The large male wouldn't go without a fight, though, and hit it hard on the nose, which prompted the creature to release him for some reason. Retreating a ways, it ambushed the hunting party, that Meralak lead, on its way back from a night hunt. Meralak, thinking of the saftey of his clan more that his own, launched himself at the creature, saving one of his clan members in the process. He stab his spear, and it dug in a bit, bug lodged itself into the armor of the beast. Not knowing what else to do, he jumped onto the creatures neck as it tried to dig out the spear, narrowly avoiding a spike in his crotch. As he crawled his way up to the head, the creature bucked, and the sharp spike sliced across his leg, leaving a gash. His fellow clan mates kept the attention of the beast off of him as best as possible by poking and prodding. Eventually, he made his way up to the head, and drew his small sword, stabbing it deep into the creatures eye, killing it, or so he thought. The serpent collapsed, and Meralak pulled his sword out of its eye, and sheathed it, however, as he yanked out his spear, the beast whirled around, attempting to land a killer bite, but Meralak, with both luck and skill, moved quicker, swinging his spear around so that the creature impaled itself through the mouth, up into the brain cavity. The armor gave way with a pop as the creatures momentum continued to drive it up the length of the spear pole. Finally the creature stopped its forward momentum, ending up only half a foot from Meralak himself. Adjusting his body so that his foot stood on the head, he yanked his Spear out of the large serpent, as blood poured out from it. Shaking the spear in his hand, he flung pieces of meat and brain that still clung to the blade to the side. Members of his clan watched in fascination as he looked back at them. Putting his spear in the sheath on his back, he drew a small sword, and looked at Jinclon. "What do the locals call this creature?" Meralak asked. Jinclon looked over the animal, and shrugged. "It looks like what the locals describe as a Drofo, or Drono, one of the two. Supposedly, it has very succulent meat." He said, chuckling. Meralak turned back to the creature, and lifting the sword up high, brought it down hard, cutting clean through the spinal column of the Drono. The head detached from the rest of its body, and Meralak lifted up the head by its horn. "Dinner." He said simply. A group of Kelvashi came forward and lifted the 10ft creature, and began walking back towards their current encampment, close by.

    They were only a small group in this camp, about thirty. The main force stayed behind at the landing site, about twenty miles to the Northeast. Meralak's camp was on the edge of a marsh, and they had encountered many different creatures in the area. They only hunted animals that seemed to be a challenge. Others, they left alone. The Kelvashi were driven to prove themselves, to train, to be better than the average person, and this drive is one of the many reasons that they hunt. As Meralak sat down in his tent, he pulled off his helmet, revealing an older Tunag male, and laid down, his head resting on the side of Nuhala, his hound. She was white in coloration, with gray patches here and there. They had a strong bond of friendship, and even had the same Birthmark, a spiral, which was a pattern in her fur, and a mark on his hand. Meralak looked up at her ice blue eyes, which were staring intently at him. Chuckling, he sat up, and retold the story of his last hunt that he had just returned from. Upon hearing him speak, Nuhala sat up on her haunches, tongue hanging out of her mouth, ears up and turned forward, listening intently to the recounting. As he got to the part where he jumped onto the back of the beast, she raised one black eyebrow, but other than that, continued listening.
    "As the creature came in, I whirled around, sticking my spear out, and it impaled itself on my Spear, right through the top of the mouth!" He said, crecsendoing in volume. "Finally, the beast was dead, and I lopped its head off, and took it for a trophy." He told her, to which she let out a howl of triumph. Meralak chuckled at her response, and the remembered the head. "Speaking of which, I need to clean this head. There is food out there, if you want some." He told her, to which she replied with a happy bark, and bolted out of the room. He turned around, and pulled out a knife, cleaning the skull. He deposited the flesh and meat into a bucket close by. An hour later, the skull was cleared of all skin and flesh, and washed in water to get rid of the remaining pieces, and cleanse it. Lifting it up, he admired the skull. "A fine trophy indeed." He said to himself, setting it on the ground. Picking up his helmet, and sticking it under his arm, he walked back out to one of the five small fires everyone was camped around. Sitting down next to Nuhala, he picked up a bowl of meat taken from the Drono, and bit in. He immediately raised an eyebrow. "It truly is succulent." He said with a chuckle, as those around him joined in laughter.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    The next day, the hunting party traveled back to the main camp, and on top of their banner sat the skull of the Drono. Many a local tribesman saw the skull, and they flocked to join the Kelvashi, as stories began to spread, stories of how the group took down the Giant beast. The more the story was told, however, the greater it was exaggerated. The final rendition was a version were Meralak took on a 30ft overgrown behemoth of a Drono, barehanded, and killed it. While this was greatly exaggerated, stories of the feats and skill of these Barbarians of the coast spread like wild fire throughout the area, and it was only a matter of time before one of these tales reached the ears of a more civilized Kingdom.
     

    Daryl Dixon

    Absentee
    King Harrison Bertrand

    The Dragon's Lair

    The king stood in the throne room, studying the room and the throne itself. Pondering on all the past rulers made his mind wonder of a time before man ruled by throne and what will be of the time after. He was disrupted by a servant with a message. "Your highness, General McFarlane requests your presence in the war room." The king dismissed the servant and made his way there.

    "Your majesty, my adviser has brought a new approach to the table." General Jonathon McFarlane said to his king. "And what would that be?" The long beaded and masculine general nodded toward the table, and Harrison looked. It was a battle strategy, to destroy the Solaran fleet. "And why would we do that?"
    "The Solaran Fleet may prove to be a problem in the future, sire."
    "Their navy would tear us apart. I have a different approach. I will send a ship to approach them, one of our ambassadors will try to make peace with the fleet. I'll have the ambassador pass on a letter, offer them assistance in cultivating what land they find to call home. If we are there for them at their roots in Rotafar we could forge a long lasting alliance that extends beyond both our life times."

    "Very wise your majesty, Salindra wanted you to be aware of all options. Perhaps crippling them now would prevent a future war. We could show them the dangers of crossing us, first hand."

    "Why you chose that woman as an adviser I still continue to question. Equality is a noble goal, but to go as far as to make a Harpy your adviser? You've heard of Baldor in Denguard."

    "The harpies are intelligent, my lord. She informed me she could rally a number of them to take flight and assist her in attacking the fleet while our navy took this strategy into action. We could rain hell on their fleet and prevent them from taking up port."

    "And what would the harpies want in return?"

    "I hadn't asked."

    "And how many good men would we have lost in the process? We need our navy down to the very last ship."

    "I don't know sire."

    "I think you underestimate them. I don't want to hear anymore of this barbaric nonsense, did the other kingdoms attack us when we had just freed the shackles of slavery?"

    "That's hardly the same sir, nobody was devel-"

    "I am disappointed Jonathan. You're a general, not a conqueror."

    "I was presenting all viable options."

    "Gather what we know of The Solaran Fleet and have it delivered to me at once."

    "We know nothing. Even the spymaster hasn't got any relevant information. Our efforts have been focused north on The Vanguards."

    The king grunted. "You are dismissed."

    King Harrison made his way to his chambers and sat at his desk. He had letters to write. "To leaders of the fleet," he began. He was disappointed with the lackluster results he had been getting lately. What kind of spymaster couldn't get more information on a navy of 750 ships? No hints, he had to write from a clear template.

    "To leaders of the fleet, I am King Harrison Bertrand of The Seraphenian Enclave. We have noticed your fleet and wish to help you should you decide to settle in Rotafar. We can help you build cities and protect you should you come under any harm. The price of this is alliance and trade. If you do not wish to take advantage of what we offer, we ask that you consider new terms for an alliance. I would like nothing more than to help your people grow their potential and for us to learn about your culture and history in the bonds of peace.

    This is why I am extending an invitation from the royal family to the selected representatives of The Solaran Fleet. I have not been informed of how your government works or how you are ruled. Regardless, I would like to personally visit your fleet with chosen members of my family. It is rare for the royal family to do so, but I believe you have the potential to become a successful and developed nation.

    Should I receive word back I will prepare for travel and sail forth for when we are expected. Wishing the best for our kingdoms, Harrison Bertrand, first of his name, King of The Seraphenian Enclave."

    Harrison sealed the letter in an envelope using the royal seal, a dragon. He had the envelope sent off by Teracari, addressed only to "The Solaran Fleet". He just hoped they had someone, or a small group, that represented the whole to lead them. If not these would be a hard people to deal with. He wondered if they even knew what a Teracari was. He would send this letter with his ambassador, hoping to receive a response after the wedding. Now onto the next order of business, the invitation to house Herrin.

    "Isaac Herrin, King of Quethia, Slayer of the Seven, chosen of Qathar. House Herrin, any chosen bastards included, are invited to the lands of Seraphenia, home of the Seraphenian Enclave to celebrate the binding of the two families in the holy matrimony of marriage. Prince Henry Bertrand heir to the throne of The Seraphenian Enclave and Princess Layna Herrin, second heir to Qethia are to be married in Atlanta.

    House Herrin will be greeted in Atlanta by The Royal Family at the docks and led to the palace there in which the two families will part ways and be led to their separate chambers. The soon to be wed will not see each other again until the wedding. After the ceremony the two kings are to sign the agreed upon alliance treaty.

    Wishing you well on your travels, King Harrison Bertrand."

    The letter was sealed in an envelope with the royal seal. A draft of the alliance treaty was also contained within the envelope. Henry's wedding was one that Harrison was looking forward to since the boy was born. His heir would finally have a wife. He felt as though he had accomplished something with this marriage, it was not easy to acquire and will ensure peace between the nations. Several hours later Harrison found himself among the company of High Priestess Vivian Montessori. He had made his way down to the church, it lay empty aside the two of them. Two knights of the Royal Guard stood at the entrances of the building. "Why is it you have come here, Harrison?" Priests, priestesses and prophets had no need to address royalty by their titles. They spoke so only of the gods. "Its about the prophecy. Have you deciphered it yet?"
    "It was deciphered a millennium ago, but no, I have not found the exact words. But it is very clear of the meaning. When the dragon returns, so does the vampire."
    "I believe it to be more than that. You don't get three tomes and decipher only one line. There has to be more." Harrison had grown wise in his years. One word could mean a world of difference in prophecy. "Sarki means undead. Not vampire."
    "In words of the lost, yes, but the rest of the prophecy, from what I can gather does not point to mere undead. Words such as sorcery, fire, blood and resurrected armies. It speaks of him."
    Him. It made the king uncomfortable. The very notion of him. "I am giving you a task commissioned by the crown. You are to decipher this prophecy, word for word, and write out every possible meaning. You have no time constraints, but you will not stop working."
    "Yes, I understand. What of my sermons?"
    "You can still carry out your other duties. You will make up for lost time." The king left the holy church. War was coming. He didn't know who he'd be fighting, but he had his suspicions.

    ----
    Solomon, the Bastard

    Solomon's Conquest

    Cannon fire filled the air as iron rained upon a large tribal village between the lands of Shirvaka and Qethia. When the battle was over, village in ruins, Solomon approached on horseback with his men. "Secure the village." He ordered, his foot soldiers approached the village by the dozens and dragged every man, woman and child into the town center.

    The royal bastard unmounted his horse and stood where the village preacher once preached his blaspheme. "I am Solomon, born of House Bertrand of The Seraphenian Enclave. I have conquered your village and you are now under our rule. Anybody who disagrees can leave now, travel east, be conquered later by the Qethians. Anybody who chooses to stay hereby agrees to be servant to King Bertrand."

    The townsfolk looked afraid as they sat on their knees, dirty from the soot of the flame that only moments ago ravaged the air. Solomon looked upon them with pride, they were now free of their independence. Their guardsman crushed with only 8 counted villager casualties. A count far less than previous liberation. "You're no true Bertrand." An elderly man said, receiving silence from the crowd. "You're a Bertrand bastard, you've always been a bastard, and you're still a bastard." Solomon focused his eyes upon the frail man. "I am to be named a true Bertrand for my accomplishments at the Ebonguard Outpost. My father, my brothers and sisters consider me a Bertrand. That's the royal family. You'd best hold your tongue."

    "Yet you still come second to Prince Henry."

    "Prince Henry is my brother and by right heir to the throne. Hold your tongue or I will rip it from your throat." How the villager came to know of this information, Solomon did not know. Perhaps he was once a citizen. He was trying to get under Solomon's skin. It did not work, he loved his brother and the words of a grumpy old man would not change that. He did not want the responsibility of a true born prince.

    "You think you have the right to force us under your rule, we were fine before you came along." The man had a fury in his eyes that Solomon had only seen once before, in Queen Jessamine. "You murdered the good defenders of this community, destroyed our homes! Mark my words bastard, your days are numbered." No sooner than the words had left his mouth a longsword had gone through the mans back. Fear ravaged the crowd as they got to their feet and fled. Solomon looked on at the soldier. "Arrest this man." He ordered.

    There was an outcry as soldiers waded through what remained of the kneeling crowd and removed the helmet of the offender, a middle aged warrior. Solomon didn't listen to his pleads or outcry. Securing the trust of the village had become a nightmare and he must show them the difference between battle and murder. The bastard prince retreated to his tent to think things over. "Are you sure this is wise M'lord?" His squire and travelling companion asked.
    "He murdered that man in cold blood."
    "He had committed crimes against the royal family, he was doing his duty."
    "He is a soldier, not a guard, and they hadn't even been added to our maps yet!"
    The young squire could see the fury burning as Solomon slammed his hand down onto the table. "I am going to execute him for murder. Show these people that breaking the law is not tolerated, no matter which side of the banner you stand."
    "Forgive me, prince Solomon, but this is just a small village."
    "Aye."
    "Is it worth the mans life?"
    Solomon thought to the men guarding the village who had died trying to defend it. "It is."

    The next day as the town was being rebuilt and repaired Solomon came out to find a chopping block where he stood yesterday and banners of The Enclave adorning the town. This town gave the military a strategic advantage against the free folk of the east. They mostly kept to themselves but every month more and more of them tried sneaking into Enclave borders. Their lands were getting smaller and smaller every day and they knew it. This was Solomon's furthest conquer in the unclaimed territory. From here he would work his way back to the outpost capturing the remaining villages and tribes and constructing a place for them to call home. It was easier to put them all in one place than to watch over them all. This would be that place as it was the largest one of the lot, it was also the least vicious.

    "Commander, the town planner has arrived."

    "I have no need of a town planner."

    "For the expansion of the village."

    "I am here to conquer, rebuilding is his job. Leave him to it."

    "He wants to know what you would envision for the town, seeing as you claimed it."

    Commander Solomon had much more important things to address. "Fetch me my sword." Solomon stood over the chopping block, Anton, the guard who murdered the townsman yesterday on his knees ready to die. "I, Commander Solomon in the name of King Bertrand sentence you to die. Would you speak a final word?"
    "Kill me and be done bastard, you're a traitor to your men and a ravaged fool." With one fell swoop, Anton's head smacked against the dirt.

    -------------------------------------------------

    Prince Henry Bertrand

    A Fateful Meeting


    "Why is it you always insist to spar with me, my lord?"
    "If I can defeat my own bodyguard then I could assassinate myself, and that's no good."
    "But you can't."
    "We'll see."

    Henry knew he could not best Ser Richard Harrington, but that would never stop him from trying. The fire in Henry was strong, Ser Harrington was proud to hone the young dragons skills. The clashing of blades ringed in the air as the two engaged, it always began the same way. Henry would advance and maneuver his way into Richards corner, pushing him back. Then Richard would get Henry back into the middle of the training pit and that's usually where the rest of the fight took place. Not today. In a surprise move, Richard knocked the young prince to the ground and brought his sword forcefully down upon him. Henry blocked in the nick of time, slid his opponents blade into the grass and rolled to his feet. Richard engaged with an onslaught of ferocious attacks, each one hitting harder than the last. Henry saw an opening and ducked under his sword and made a strike at the knights back, but it was blocked. That's when The Royal Guard arrived, guests in tow.

    "Prince Henry, your guests have arrived."

    Ser Harrington nodded to Henry, dismissing himself and moving into the background. Henry sheathed his sword and approached Ethan. "Prince Henry. It is an honor, truly." Ethan smiled and bowed as low as he could muster. "These are my travelling companions; Marek and Asher Thidrin, twin brothers to the late Queen Neoma of Qethia." He gestured to the pair who stood behind him.

    "Prince Ethan, there is no need for such formalities. Soon we will be family." Henry laid a strong grasp upon the older mans shoulder before turning to the twins. "It is a pleasure to meet you, I have heard stories of late queens twin brothers. Please, my guests, make yourselves at home in the Atlantic." Henry shook Marek and Ashers hands and looked them in the eye as he talked. Ser Sabjorn, here for the twins stepped to the princes side.

    "They sent the bastard?" He said, confusion plastered across his face. "Doesn't that seem insulting, my liege? You're to have the biggest wedding since your fathers and they cant send a true born?" Henry glanced a sorrowful gaze at Ethan, his guest. Henry masked his emotions well under an unchanging expression, but he was embarrassed that a Volmerian knight would be so crude to his future brother in law.

    "Ser Sabjorn, you forget your place. Is this what you say of my bastard brother when I am not around and he is in my place?"

    "No sire, of course not, I hold your brother in high regard."

    "Then you shall do so with Ethan, for he is to be my brother also."

    "Forgive me, my lord." Sabjorn gave an apologetic bow to Henry and Ethan.

    "I believe my mother would like to meet Lord Asher and Marek."

    "Of course, if you would follow me m'lords."

    "There is no need for forgiveness, Ser Sabjorn. Bastards don't tend to be held in high regard. As for Marek and Asher?" He turned to his companions. "I'm sure they'd be delighted to meet with the Queen." Sabjorn escorted the twins up to the palace where the queen waited.

    "I was expecting you a little later, but since you're here now I would like to see how they fight in Qethia. Would you care to spar?" Henry nodded his head in the direction of a weapon rack, expecting Ethan to pick a weapon up and fight. Ethan smirked and nodded, before walking over to the rack. He eyed the vast assortment of weapons, and finally settled on a simple iron shortsword. Reaching for his neck, he unclipped the chain holding his cloak at the neck and let it fall to the floor. He raised the sword in Henry's direction. "Ready when you are."

    Henry advanced upon Ethan, going on the offensive. As they locked blades briefly, Henry found an opportune moment to ask a question he had been dying to ask. "So what's your sister like?" Ethan smiled at the question. He had expected as such. "She's a gentle soul. Kind. Almost too much so, in fact. She looks so much like her mother." He paused while he thought about how to proceed. "You're a lucky man, Henry." Henry smiled. "I hope only that I can make her happy with me, I am looking forward to meeting her." After a few more minutes of attacking and defending against the Herrin bastard, Henry decided it was time to finish. "I would like to show you something I have been designing for the past few months, for your sister. It's waiting in the docks." Henry said, swooping his sword upward and then down upon his opponent, using his might to force the blades together. Ethan's might persevered, and he did not not give way under the pressure. Rather, he escaped the lock and made another swing at the prince, catching him off guard. Henry blocked Ethan's swing and his blade rebounded off the Prince's, allowing a moment of separation. "Well fought, my Prince." He wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'd be honoured to see it, especially if it is for my sister."

    Henry replaced his training sword with his real one, Winter. A steel coloured blade, with a light tint of blue. Made from byzantium, this blade is a rare combination of strength and beauty. Henry donned his cloak once again and headed for the docks, Ethan by his side and bodyguard in tow. While Atlanta had space for mooring ships in far more places than the main docks, this is where the ship was being built. Some citizens spotted the prince, most cleared way and watched from the side but a few tried greeting him. Henry did his best to be polite, but kept walking. After a series of zigzagging around buildings they arrived. To the right was a waterfall, many of them littered their way toward the palace. Henry admired the design, and it always challenged him. How was such a creation built? The large lake around Atlanta was very multi-layered.

    The ship itself was large, had a dragon as the bow and on the sails was a two headed lion, behind it a blue dragon, with its wings around the lion. The sails themselves were purple. "I had this ship designed in Layna's honour. I was going to name it Layna's Beauty, but I would like your input." Henry walked further up the docks so the sail could be seen better. "Regarding the sails, it symbolizes the two kingdoms working in unison together, protecting each other. The two headed lion being a religious Qethian animal, and the dragon being ours. If this would cause offense to your family, I will have it altered."

    Ethan was awestruck. It was absolutely incredible. "My prince, it's remarkable. How did you manage such a feat?" He looked it over again. "The sail does nothing to bring offence, but brings great pride. You honour my sister more than you could know. I think that Layna's beauty is a perfect name." Henry was proud of his accomplishments and his doubts of Layna and her family disapproving quickly vanished from his mind as Ethan's praised the ship. "It was no easy task, but I gathered the funding and had my best ship masters oversee the project with me. Let us board, shall we?" As they walked up to the stern of the ship you could see that it was complete, all that was left was the inner furnishings. "I personally made the design, seeing as it brings no offence, I thought at the wedding it could be put on the banners. Where your family would sit, there will be your flag. Where mine, ours. Everywhere else, this. There is less diversity and more unison in this process, and I admit I am nervous of meeting your father. It would be a great failure if he were to disapprove. You're the first of either of our families to see it." They got to the wheel and Henry stood there, still chatting with Ethan. "When I am done with the wedding I mean to celebrate with my new wife, but I don't know what interests her. If you could tell me of her favourite foods, colours and places she might want to visit I would be most grateful."

    "My father would be a fool to disapprove of such a magnificent creation. I'm sure he will be pleased." The pair moved to the wheel. "As for Layna. She'll only ever wear blues or purples but her favourite colour is red, I can assure you. She'll eat anything you put in front of her as well without a fuss. Now that I think about it she's actually very easily pleased. Anywhere pretty, flowers or waterfalls or lakes or animals, and she'll be thrilled."

    "She's going to love Atlanta then." Henry remarked, thinking of the waterfalls. "Very well, I'll adorn the captains cabin with her colours. Does she have a favourite animal?" Ethan thought on the question. "A favourite animal. If such a thing existed I don't think she has mentioned it. She just loves anything small with big eyes." Henry looked at Ethan with a seriousness in his eyes. "You've been good company Ethan, travel Atlanta under my name. You'll not be charged. I'm to go to the palace and help with the preparations, you're free to do what you like. Later tonight though I'm to go hunting with some off duty Royal Guard, would you be interested?"

    "Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Henry. It has been a pleasure, from the spar to the ship. I would be honoured to accompany you tonight on your hunt." He leaned in. "And I think you'll make a perfect husband for Layna."

    "Your approval is most valued Ethan, I only hope she feels the same. I'll send for you an hour before we leave." Henry gave Prince Ethan a strong handshake and left for the palace. He did not know how to prepare for a marriage with a woman he'd yet to meet, but from what he'd heard she was beautiful. If Ethan's words were anything to go by, she sounded perfect.


    "Are you ready for your final dancing lesson with me, Prince Henry?" He rolled his eyes. "You tricked me."
    "If I had sent for you writing it was a dancing lesson you'd have come up with another excuse on why you're busy. Besides, you're still preparing for the wedding by learning to dance."
    "You committed treason." He said, playfully and with a smirk. The next hour was another excruciating dance lesson. After it was over, his dancing instructor Miranda gave him a pin. "Whats this?"
    "All of my students get one. A sign of accomplishment, wear it with pride."
    The young prince snickered.
    "I am to rule a kingdom, yet somehow I doubt I will find it quite so challenging as this."
    "My Prince, you didn't find it challenging. You're a dance master."
    "Again, you lie to your prince."
    "You will thank me when your bride isn't embarrassed by her husbands dancing."
    "Thank you Miranda, I appreciate your service."
    "When you are king I will tell my children I am the one who taught you to dance. Would you dance with me?" She said with cheek and a tint of sarcasm.
    "I promise, when I am king, I will dance with you."

    Henry made his way to his mother, who had finished speaking with the twins. "You are going to shave, aren't you?"
    "Mother, that is the least of my worries."
    "It's unclean. I don't want the Herrin's thinking we are filthy barbarians."
    "Father has a beard."
    "He's not getting married tomorrow now is he?"
    "So I need to be clean shaven on the day of my marriage but then I can grow it out? A silly ordeal."
    "If I hear one more argument come out of your mouth I'm telling King Isaac the incident with the cows." She said, feeding off of his anxiety. It was a funny story.
    "Mother."
    "Now go."
    Henry begrudgingly exited the room, having forgotten why he wanted to see her in the first place. By the time he got to his chambers to shave, he remembered, it was about the candle. After shaving, Prince Henry went around to multiple tailors around the city to have his design mass produced. He arranged for blue, purple and red adornments for the captains cabin of Layna's Beauty. Then he made his way for the ship itself, walking with the delivery crew.

    Henry spent his time decorating the cabin and arranging things in a neat order, placing books upon the book shelves and placing a steel dagger in one of the drawers. Just in case. By the time he got back to the palace, his father had arrived and it was almost time for his hunt. He sent a messenger for Prince Ethan, and spoke to his father who was sitting on the throne that lay in Atlanta. "You're looking young."
    "Mother had me shave."
    "I see. King Isaac has informed me the bastard is on his way tonight, the rest of the family will be here tomorrow."
    "I met him. Ethan, he's a good man."
    "A named bastard, that one. I am to name Solomon tomorrow, he will be a Bertrand at the wedding."
    "Speaking of, I am trying to impress my promised. I built-"
    "There is no need to impress your promised, this a strategic marriage organized by the fathers for the benefit of the kingdoms. Nobody expects you to love each other, you're lucky she's only 18. Probably still a virgin."
    "If we are to be wed I at least want her to like me."
    "Your role is to put a son in her and raise him to be king. I'll not bother with your attempts at gaining her affection. You're welcome to do so, but save it till after the wedding. She's lucky she'll get to be queen, that should impress her enough."
    "I built a ship in her honour."
    The awkward silence said enough.
    "Pardon?"
    "It is my vessel, but I designed an emblem that represents the two houses and named the ship Layna's Beauty." Henry approached the throne and climbed the small steps, leaning over his father and showing him a sketch of the emblem. Before King Harrison could call Henry a fool, he was taken aback. "This is your own?"
    "Yes, I made it myself. I was hoping we could adorn the wedding with these designs."
    "Its your wedding."
    Harrison would not admit it, but he was impressed with the young mans artistry. Henry left the room, making his way for the city gates where the men awaited him for the hunt.
     
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    Simus

    An Excellent Site Member
    The Solaran landing party looked around in awe at the sight before them. Just two days ago they were around a cold, gloomy island under a cold gray sky in the middle of the ocean. The miners worked at a hard, steady pace to keep warm just as much as to stay productive and when the days-awaited rain did come it came in such a torrent that most of the sails had to be rolled up so as not to become flooded. Now they were in a complete climate change. A hot, muggy gnat-infested island that was so far on the edge of Lotharine that it didn't have a name. The "capital" of this island, Lantern, was little more than a large fishing village. The smell of fish, fresh, salted and rotten, was everywhere on the docks and the sounds of birds and bugs in the tropical forests around the village was distracting to everyone. Even the marines were distracted, looking around to take in their surroundings as much as watch for danger. All the while sweating in their plate armor. It was forged in the style of the ancient Solaran knights and made a man into a fortress in battle but here it was a miserable oven. All of them men were wearing either rounded open helmets or flattened full helmets with two large eye slits. Both types were worn over a hood of chainmail and cloth for extra protection and by the time the delegation had reached the governor's house everyone had their helmets off, hoods down and their hair and faced drenched in sweat. Most of them had never seen land before much less walked on it and Shala felt bad that their first time should be so miserable.

    "Pelor's mercy." Admiral Tacitus said. "Is all of Lotharine this bloody hot?"

    "I hope so." Shala said. "Our mage can conjure ice, we'll make a fortune and then we'll buy the kingdom." A chuckle rumbled through the delegation as they made it up to the house.

    As far as the residence of rulers went it was relatively small and humble. As far as buildings in the village went it was practically a mansion. Everyone was ushered inside a relatively plain but large and comfortable meeting room. The diplomat and his entourage sat at a large wooden table and the three admirals, Shala, Tacitus and Sable, sat at the center. Each had a scribe to take notes and at least one attendant ready with things the admirals might need during the talks. Maps, magnifying glasses, quills, inkbottles, paper, some sealed provisions and water if things dragged on and, for afterwards, beer. One of the men had a box of gifts for the Lotharingian diplomat and his attendants. Depending on how things went, they would either be presented as a thank you at the end or during the negotiations to try and sway him. Everyone was seated and the diplomat asked who would like to start the talk. Shala, being the de facto speaker for her people, spoke up first.

    "First, ambassador, we'd like to thank you for the welcome and for seeing us on such short notice. News of our fleet approaching one's shores can be intimidating and your king's sense of hospitality is commendable. To introduce ourselves, I am admiral Shala Rosenkov, Head Mediator of the Solaran Conclave and commander of the Patrol Fleet. This is admiral Gabriel Tacitus, commander of the Assault Fleet and one of our most decorated soldiers and to my left is admiral James Sable, head of our Civilian Fleet and the manager of much of our logistics and trade. Our attendants will assist us in recording and facilitating these negotiations and our marines will keep watch outside. We've brought you several gifts, any of which you approve of we will happily share with King Romain, as well as some of our better spirits for after the meeting. Provided of course you partake in spirits."

    One of the attendants opened a large enchanted cylander and poured cold, clear water into a large crystal pitcher. It was placed between the admirals and the dipomats along with several glasses. Shala filled hers to the brim and took a long drink before continuing, along with wiping her wrinkled brow with a handkerchief.

    "Please, help yourself to a glass of water. Our mages have enchanged it to stay ice cold even in this muggy heat. Now, as for the business of our meeting, we are here to discuss trade rights between Lotharine and the Migrant Fleet. We are aware of your nation's need for iron and your king's desire to increase your reserves." She referenced a list handed to her, looking over her reading glasses to see better. "Based on our information, Lotharine's royal armor factories have fifteen tons of iron ore available for smelting, along with ten tons of stamped iron ingots. Twenty-five tons total. Our recent seaborne mining efforts have yielded a massive surplus of iron and we are willing to trade thirty tones of stamped iron ingots, more than doubling your kingdoms stockpile. We can give you fifteen tones now and another fifteen over the next six weeks. In return, we request that you provide us with food and lumber. Fruits, vegetables, land based grain and meat, non-parishable goods and treated planks of wood are all preferred. Considering the value of these resources, we propose and one-for-two trade ratio. One ton of iron for two parts food or lumber. Do these terms sound reasonable?"
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    Jeviic stood beside his Basilisk, Meshla, scratching her chin, underneath the scale. She seemed to love the feeling, and would ask him multiple times to do it throughout the day. Suddenly, the doors to his chamber were thrust open, and a man came running in. "Klev'alor, we have a report from the new land! Meralakk has made ground fall. They have begun hunting in earnest. The new land, it is just as was said, resources galore. Meralakk sent the first shipment back with his messenger." The man said, obviously excited. Jeviic chuckled slightly. "Very well, load the ship up with supplies before sending it back." He said, waving to the man, who gave a slight nod of his head before exiting. Meshla ducked down, looking at Jeviic with her bright emerald eyes. 'It seems this land is as rich as we thought.' She purred out into Jeviic's mind. The Kelv'alor chuckled; 'Indeed, so it would seem.'

    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Meralakk was waltzing back and forth at the gate to his forward base. Rumors had been streaming in that a large army of barbarians, who opposed the new comers, had gathered. With that in mind, he had assembled his force, and was ready for battle. Archers stood at their post, and large, two-handed weapon bearers stood behind a wall of Kelvashi shield and spearmen. Night had fallen rather fast, and the faint glow of flame could be seen rising over the ridge to their front. The battlefield spanned from their Camp on a hill, down into the valley below. Meralakk stood on the front line, shield in one hand, spear in the other. He watched as a large force of barbarians entered the valley, walking up to less than three hundred meters away. He looked back, and nodded at his men and women, before a chilling scream sounded from the Barbarians, followed by them charging. "Shield Wall!" Meralakk screamed out. "Oya, OYA!" Came the reply as the shields slammed into the ground in front of them. Meralakk dug his feet into the ground. "Archers, fire!" A stream of arrows flew over their heads, into the charging mass of people. "Fire at will!" He called out, and the Arrows began flying out as fast as they could be loaded. Then, the barbarians were upon the shield wall. They crashed into it with the force of a large wave, but the Kelvashi stood strong. As the barbarians tried to batter their way through the shields, the voice of Meralakk rang out across the field. "Push!"

    Suddenly, the front ranks, which seemed to have been swallowed by the barbarian horde, reappeared, pushing up and out with their shields with all their might. Barbarians were flung into the air, knocked over, and trampled by their own people. The push was quickly followed by jabs from the spears, killing anything in front of them. With the Barbarians momentum broken, Meralakk waved his spear into the air. The beating of paws could be heard, and suddenly, Kelvashi Hounds, Rider perched on top, leapt over the shield wall, crashing into the disorganized Barbarian lines. The riders bulldozed through the enemy, screams being heard, bones being crushed. Pushing through to the rear, the warriors dismounted from their hounds, and then, warrior and hound both charged back into the rear of the barbarian horde. Meralakk raised his spear, and swung it back and forth in the air. "Oya, Kelvashi!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. As the battle cries of the Kelvashi rang out, they charged. Shields and spears pushing and stabbing, large, two-handed weapons swinging, decapitating multiple people with one blow. The Barbarians began to panic, and tried to run for their lives. The Kelvashi kept pushing, driving deeper into the enemy. Finally, Meralakk came face to face with Jinclon at the center of what remained of the Barbarian army. The two, nodded to each other, and once more, entered the fray. As the battle winded down, it was noted that a few of the Barbarians had escaped, but not many. In the face of overwhelming odds, the Kelvashi had won, with no losses of their own to boot. The Barbarians had been routed. Once more, word began to spread of skilled warriors who came from the west. The remaining Barbarians told stories of how these new warriors had defeated an army much larger than them, and once again, many came to join the Kelvashi culture. Tales of the western warriors would finally approach the more civilized areas around.
     
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    Blackdoom59

    BATMAN!
    Nestor and his men tried squeezing information out of the assassin in all ways possible, but he was a mage, and a very skilled one at that. It looked as if he felt no pain, and no matter how hard Nestor tried to engage in conversation, the man wouldn't say a word. Eventually, he decided the only way to make him speak is to contact an old friend, or rather an old mistress he used to serve. None other than Felhera, one of the 8 harpies wed to Arik Estion, God-Emperor to the empire that shares his name.

    Since the council room in the tower was wrecked by the assassins, two ministries were called to Victor's personal chamber. Those gentlemen were Midas and Ajax, whom entered simultaneously to find Victor already up and about, walking around the room with his hands behind his back and his head looking down. Quite shocking for the two - rumors suggested that Victor was either dying, maimed or dead already. Iustinia managed to keep the actual truth from spreading , however it's hard to silence everyone. The explosion in the tower could've been seen from outside the city.

    Upon entering they both knelt, and Ajax instantly started with his pleasantries. "Grand Prince Victor Amadeus Olympio Modestus of house Julia, My family and I wish nothing but the beast of health and luck in recovering-"
    "Skip it. I'm recovered" Victor approached the two and nodded, signaling them to raise.
    "That is very good to hear, my prince" Midas said with a smirk on his face. Victor approached him adamantly, now inches away from his face.
    "Is it truly, patrician? I believe my death would have given you much joy" Victor frowned and stared at Midas. Ajax turned to him, surprised by the situation. It was clear Victor was in a bad mood, but assassination was no joking matter, and an accusation from the grand prince is synonymous to a death sentence in the republic. Midas backed away until his back touched the wall "Prince Victor...?" He was terrified, trembling all over.
    "I know what you did".
    "I don't...follow"
    Victor let out a sigh. "Without my consent, you sent a courier ship to Solare to communicate our intent to trade. That matter was not decided, and you took it in your own hands to act on the republic's behalf". Ajax frowned at Midas, figuring he was dedicated to trade with the island so much that he'd risk his life doing it. Ajax couldn't help but wonder why - Midas was always chasing the better deal, and not only was this deal terrible in solaran eyes, but Midas was calculated, and it was uncharacteristic for him to act against Victor.
    "It left?" He said it as if he didn't believe it.
    "Don't try to fool me."
    "I'm not. I did prepare the ship with the message before the council...in case we all agreed to it. But i never order it to leave"
    "Is that so? Well, even if you're lying, I have no way to find out. Would be easier if I imprison you right now" Midas shook his head
    "I'l send a second, faster ship, tell the messengers to come back home. They'l prove my innocence." Victor squinted at Midas before waving his hand.
    "As you will, hurry it up." Midas bowed and left the room. Ajax was surprised by how events turned. If he were Victor he'd have hanged Midas in an instant. "My prince...Are you sure it's wise to let him go?". Victor looked at the fireplace in his chambers and chuckled as the embers danced.
    "You should appreciate my kind nature - traitor" Ajax slowly closed his eyes and mumbled something. "I did send word to them, yes, but..."
    Victor walked over to Ajax "But what?" Ajax swallowed dryly "The Solarans are our allies"

    The room suddenly became as silent as a crypt. The two stared at one another for a good few moments before with Victor breathing more and more heavily. "ALLIES?" Victor shouted on the top of his lungs. "We have no allies you insubordinate scum! They are our partners! Our trade partners - nothing more. And that partnership can go downhill because you decided they deserve to know how I rule my republic!". Ajax opened his mouth, willing to speak back, but Victor shouted again "Guards!". Ajax made a few steps to the corner of the room and started uttering words like 'wait' and 'no', but the doors opened and guards walked in nonetheless. "I charge this man with conspiracy against the republic, take him to the dungeon."

    Ajax struggled, but the guards grabbed him and dragged him inch by inch to the doors, until they were ordered to stop when Victor heard Ajax shout "I have a plan!"

    ---

    The fleet lead by admiral Orion flew through a wide river that went through the Noraki forest, carrying gifts, resources and ambassador Haris. The Harbringer, a large behemoth of a ship the sailors called 'The Joffer', to both mock and praise the ruling dynasty of Lotharine and their strong ships, was followed by 3 galleys and 9 trade vessels. Haris was sipping on some rum, having a chat with Orion who was handling the wheel of the ship. The river grew wider and wider until they realized they entered a lake. A sailor ran to the two and shouted "Natives on the shore!". Orion turned the ship and the galleys formed a line that the trading vessels remained behind.

    Before them stood a groove at base of a mountain from which a gigantic waterfall poured heaps of water into the lake. From the Joffer all sailors and merchants could see the tribal village that stood in the middle of the groove. Some things they heard were true, the trees were incredibly tall and weren't cleared from the residential area, making the village blend in with the forest. However, they were wrong about everything else. The tribesmen were much more civilized than anyone would have thought. Tattoed warriors in chainmail covered by fur formed a line, with shields raised high and axes at the ready. Behind them, archers fired flaming arrows that couldn't reach the ships, and instead fell into the water. Orien had the fleet ready the crossbows and balistas. Not only did the tribesmen had chainmail and steel axes, which meant they knew how to smelt iron just fine, but they had fishing boats docked on the shore, and a stone statue of what looked like a winged yunta wielding a battleaxe. Haris looked over at Orien and they both nodded. Together they faced pirates and deserters, but Haris always talked their way out of trouble. He gets on a boat dropped off the ship and makes his way to the shore, with no weapons and wearing nothing but silk clothing. From the ranks of tribesmen, one large, bearded man stepped forward and crossed his arms, waiting for Haris to arrive. As soon as he reached the shore, Haris took one look back at his fleet before going onward to meet the man.

    Haris stood before him and extended his hand, but the man just kept staring. "Good sir, are you the leader of those people?". He spoke calmly and slowly enough for a toddler to understand, while keeping his hand extended. "Aye, I be the chief, and this be me clan.". Haris bowed, to the chief's confusion.
    "My name is Haris Crastus, what is yours, chief?"
    "Ulf."
    "Where I come from, men shake hands when they meet"
    Ulf looked at Haris and then grabbed his palm, squeezing it with all his might. Haris endured it for a bit before backing off a bit. "In Noraki, men be yellin' the names of they's mates. Tis better than squeezin' yer hand." He made a brief pause before assuming a stance. He started to shout for almost a minute straight "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!" The warriors were hitting their shields with their axes and cheering as Ulf yelled. After he was done, he didn't even catch his breath before resuming again. "Tis yer turn now, stranger". Haris employed a fake smile. "Uh..Alright... UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULF!" he yelled for a few moments before stopping to catch his breath. All the warriors were laughing at the display. Behind them, in the center of the town, the women and children were laughing all the same. Everyone but Ulf begun talking among themselves as if Haris was no longer important.
    "Ya ought too need a pint now" Haris frowned, still catching his breath
    "No..thanks..I'm alright. Listen, Chief Ulf - I am from a far away land parted by an ocean-"
    "Ya be the devils from across the salt waters? Folk 'ere believed you were more ferocious."
    "Not at all. We are but traders, we come here to ask share our goods with yours. We have many things such as-"
    "Hold on mate. I's not about to let you devils on me land unless the spirits deem ya worthy" Haris had begun to frown. He'd grown tired of all those tests.
    "So be it. What do I have to do?"
    "Stick yer head in the water and wait there for a day. Tis known devils breathe water as they breathe wind."
    "What will that prove? I'm no devil, I'l drown!"
    "Aye, and then I'l known you lot be no devils. No other way, mate"
    "Listen...we're about to offer you riches you've never even dreamed of. Your people will be merry all the time. If you'd let us-"
    "Spoken like a proper devil, you fokin' whoreson!" Ulf slapped Haris across the face, his face now turning red with anger, all warriors assumed position again. "First ya spit on the spirits and now ya be deceivin'! The spirits said 'Devils be cunning, they will promise prey, iron and women, but they'l give naught, they'l take yer land and make ya slaves like they's flying demons of old' Think me a proper fool, eh?" Ulf spat on, than punched Harris, sending him to the ground. On the Joffer, Orion yells something out but he's to far away to be heard. The drums from the echo on the mainland, and in return, the warriors start shouting and swearing. Ulf kicks Haris and takes out a short hammer, then proceeds to bash his head in.

    On the Joffer, Oris's eyes open wide and a tear drops down his cheek and neck. "Fire." He spoke calmly and a sailor yelled the same words. The balistas and crossbows unleashed their bolts onto the tribesmen. The bolts took the tribesmen by surprise, most haven't raised their shields, and some of those that did faced balista bolts that broke them and impaled the men into the ground. One such balista bolt hit Ulf in his arm, effectively shredding it off quickly. As he screamed, ulf dropped his hammer and took out a potion, begun chugging it and then started charging towards the boat.

    "Onward"
    The ships begun approaching the mainland as balistas and crossbows kept the fire, decimating the warriors on the shore as they slowly returned deeper into the trees. All but Ulf, whom took the boat and started sailing towards the ship. Although he had only an arm left, and his body became a magnet of crossbow bolts, he was still going, shouting and screaming. Upon seeing this, Orion had a net thrown over Ulf's boat, rendering him in place. The republicans eventually reached mainland and begun debarking. From the woods, archers started to fire back on them, but accomplished little, as there were still men manning the balistas that shot them down completely. The army started to venture deeper into the woods to only see everyone flee from the village - children, women, men, all running in different directions, scattered. Orion ordered the incapacitated Ulf be brought ashore as his solders already begun settling in, fortifying and foraging. A few old men and women stood next to the yunta statue, on their knees, apparently praying.
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    (The Following all takes place in a span of Five Months. All events depicted in this post either happens at the same time, or close on the heels of another.)


    The bells rang out through the Capital. Kelv'alor Jeviic had passed in his sleep, age and old wounds finally catching up to him. The bells were not a sign of mourning, however, but of celebration. Jeviic had gone to join the Gods in the Afterlife. Rising to take his place was his young Daughter, Katria, who was the choice of the people. Though one opposed her, she dealt with him in single combat, solidifying her place on the throne. It now fell to her to run the Empire. Her first order of business: Securing the Empire's Southern border. News of Jeviic's death spread quickly throughout the continent, and the Barbarian tribes had united under a new leader. To the Kelvashi, he was only known as Lot-Kodaav be Sorva, or the Great Bear of the South. For the past Month the Barbarians had been prodding the Empire's territory. It was time for Katira to end this threat... and she knew how to do it.

    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

    The Army marched, armor clinking, as they trudged their way onward. They were nearly three weeks into their journey past the Southern borders, and had yet to see any of the Barbarians, though signs of their activity was evident. Kelvashi Forts, used to defend the boarder, had been raided and pillaged. Katria climbed off her Father's Basilisk, Meshla, and looked around, the Legion slowing to a stop as their Kelv'alor dismounted. The snow began to pick up, swirling around them. A clap of thunder sounded. Suddenly, there was a loud woosh, the figure of a winged creature illuminated by a strike of lightning. "Impossible..." Katria muttered out. Meshla observed with great interest as a young male Basilisk swooped down from the Sky, skidding to a halt in front of the Legion. Not far in the distance, shouts could be heard, along with weapons bashing on shields. Out of the snowy blur, the Barbarians materialized, as if out of thin air. The Kelvashi drew their weapons, prepared for combat.

    From the back of the male Basilisk, a figure dropped to the ground. It was tall, and muscular, and covered in armor that looked to be a mix of both bone and iron. Chain mail was worn underneath, and also covered it's mouth and nose. The only sign of a person underneath where the eyes, which were golden colored, and looked like they had a glow about them, though it could have just been the light shining at the right angle. The figure approached Katria, not a care in the world for the soldiers who stood behind her. He came to a stop about ten meters away from the Kelvashi, and crossed his arms, looking directly at Katria. The Kelv'alor looked back at her men and women, before turning, and striding forward to meet the warrior. As she approached the warrior, she fully understood just how big it was. It stood well over a foot above her, and she herself was not small, just over six foot. The warrior growled, though said nothing. Katria decided to make the first move. "Why do you assault our Forts? Attack our Territory?" She asked bluntly. The warrior seemed taken aback for a second that the voice was of a female, but he quickly recovered. "This was not your land to lay claim to. The soil you step on now belongs to the Cin'ciri'ade." The warrior, obviously identified as a male by the voice, retorted. Katria pursed her lips under her helmet. "You say this is your territory, we say it is our own. Conflict has already broken out, but we can stop it, here and now. My people call your kind Werda Naast'e, the Dark Destroyers. Am I correct in assuming you are Lot-Kodaav be Norva?" She asked, curiously. The warrior hefted his weight to his right leg. "That is what your people call me. I am known as Bjorn Kril-Kendov by mine." He retorted simply. Katria nodded slightly, before continuing on; "Then I, Kelv'alor of the Kelv'ade challenge you, Bjorn, to a fight! Leader on Leader, one on one. If I win, your people join the Empire, and if you win, you shall become the new Kelv'alor. First one to draw blood on their weapon wins." She said, drawing her duel weapons. The Barbarian rolled his neck in a small circle, before reaching up, and drawing his Greatsword, the blade of which seemed to be made of bone as well. It rested upon his shoulder. "I accept your challenge." He said, entering a combat stance.
    67mrcw.jpg
    [/IMG]

    67mrcw.jpg


    The two warriors quickly charged each other, Greatsword locking with twin blades. They danced around the circle now formed by their soldiers, clashing blows against one another. As quickly as the fight broke out, it came to a close. Bjorn reared his head back, and headbutted the Kelv'alor, and she staggered backwards. Reaching forward with his free hand, Bjorn grabbed her head, and flipped the woman's helmet off, bringing his blade close to her neck, and making a small, no lethal slice. At the same time as this, however, Bjorn felt a small slice on his own body, underneath the chin. He looked down, surprised to see the woman's hand up underneath the chain mail that covered his mouth, neck, and nose. With a slight twist, Katria shoved off the Barbarian warriors helmet as well, pulling the blade away to show blood. The two withdrew their weapons, eyes locked in a stare down. Murmurs whispered through crowd of warriors of a what to do, and that it was a tie. Suddenly, the silence between Katria and Bjorn was broken when the large warrior broke out into a bellowing laugh. "Kandosii!" He yelled out, looking at the woman. "Jate akaan, Ner Kelv'alor. You drew blood, my people shall join you." Katria sat stunned at the mans reaction. As she looked him over, she realized the man had to have been around the same age as her, despite his size, and, was rather attractive, despite the long beard he sported. "Um, yes. You also drew my blood. This fight was a tie, and I am obligated to keep my promise as best as possible. You fight well, and your tactics have proven sound in the past. I name you Akaan'drog, Warlord of the Empire." She stated, looking right at the man. Bjorn raised an eyebrow at the woman. "Very well, I accept." He said simply. A Cheer rose up from both sides. "Now, let us celebrate! Gather the rest of your people, and travel to our capital. A feast will be held in your honor, and your people shall become the Seventh Clan." Katria stated, a cheer rising once more.

    -------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Five months had passed, and the Barbarians, now known as Kyramla Aliit, or Deadly Clan, had integrated into the Kelvashi Empire rather well. Bjorn had become the personal Ver'gebuir, or Body Guard, of the Kelv'alor, and his duty was to fight by her side. Sejrak, the new Alor of Kyramla, had taken a ship load of his warriors, to head for the New Land to the west, to reinforce Meralak, and bring honor and glory to Kyramla. Unlike other Kelvashi soldiers and warriors, the warriors of Kyramla stuck with their traditional Bone armor, instead of a full suit of Beskar Iron. The bones, come to find out, were taken from their hunts of a great beast in the South, and were surprisingly just as resilient as some of the strongest metals. This made the members of the Aliit stand out in battle, which they were supposed to, for in War Time Situations, Kyramla was to be the Vanguard of the Kelvashi Military. Recently, Bjorn and Katria had become more than just friends. Many of the Kelvashi people noticed this, and the two were the talk of the land. Also quite noticeable where the two Basilisks, who have recently never left each other's side. Meshla and Kormaac, the male, seemed to have become close as well. In short, all was going well in the Kingdom. The economy had been given a boost from the wealth of the South, though to sustain their Empire, more resources would need to be found. this task fell to those who were in the New Land.

    -------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Jinclon marched forward onto the deck, grabbing the Spyglass from the Deck Officer. He lifted the device up to his eye, and scanned the Horizon. The Kad was on it's way back, followed by a few other ships belonging to the new Clan, with supplies and new warriors to reinforce those at the New Land. He signaled the Bell man, who rang it loudly. A horn was blown, and as the Kad turned towards the island in the middle of a long chain, the other ships continued onward, heading to the New Land. An hour passed, but the Kad made berth in a small cove, and had deposited it's warriors onto the island. Hours turned into days as a small outpost was set up. The land was bare, and you could see from one end of the island to the other. At the far western end was a large Mountain, guarded closely by hills surrounding it. Jinclon was walking along the edge of one of these hills when he made the discovery... A large diamond, sitting on the edge of a creek. The creek originated up on the Mountain. As the Kelvashi spurned forward with renewed interest, they found all kinds of interesting valuables. All kinds of gems were found, and even a piece of gold, leading to the speculation that the area was rich with ores. A month passed, and the Kelvashi had set up a temporary Fort as mining began on the Island.

    -------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Meralak and his forces continued to push farther, probe deeper. Scouting parties could be gone for Months before coming back and reporting. Eventually, reports came back telling of a mountainous region, with Cities on the tops of mountains. Tales of Riches, both in Ores and Gems, filled the minds of the Kelvashi. Any kind of ore, as well as Precious Gems, could be used to help the Kelvashi Empire grow. A War Party was formed, the warrior Gervas chosen to lead it. The Kelvashi set out, and word would soon spread of armored warriors crossing the boarder into Atharia. The Kelvashi, it seemed, were destined to meet the Kingdom of Atharia, though whether as enemies or as allies had yet to be decided.
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    It had only been a few months since the induction of Kyramla as a new Aliit when word came from the Northern Territories. The Swordmasters of the North had materialized out of the desert to defend their lands once again. Katria had ordered an incursion into their territory, to set up mines to supply ore and minerals for the expeditions to the new land. The North was rich with resources, but had never been conquered due to the stuborness, and the battle prowess of the Vhek'ada people, those who called the desert their home. The incursion had been driven back rather amptly, and in turn, Katira had organized a full fledged force to push into the Vhek'ada territory. Unfortunatly, a few weeks into their jounrey, the sands picked up, and they got lost in a Sand storm, eventually taking shelter in a cave. Though the Sandstorm eventually subsided, they found out that they were lost. An entire force, three Clan's large, lost, in the desert, in an area not on their map. Rations were low, and thirst was at an all time high, and yet, moral was not low. They knew that the Vhek'ada were watching, waiting, and that if they attacked, they would be in a fight that they could sing about for ages to come, unless Kad called them home first.
    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    "My Kelv'alor, we can not just continue marching until we run into them, our men need to rest for a bit." Serec called out, stumbling forward slightly. Katira frowned, and Bjorn just stood stoick, not showing any emotion. "The Vhek'ada are watching, even as we speak. To rest would be to appear weak, and they would descend upon us like ants to an injured beetle. We must show them that we are not going to give up. This land WILL belong to the Empire, and they will either join us, or there will be a fight to the death." Katria retorted. Bjorn simply nodded his head in response. Serec let out a sigh before continuing his rant. "The Vhek'ada will not bow, they will not join. The Vhek'ada have been a thorn in the side of the Kelvashi since the Empire was founded, not once have they bowed or surrendered, and not once has the Empire won in a fight against them. You know the ancient tells as well as I do, the Vhek'ada will only bow to the Chosen of Kad Ha'rangir himself, when he arrives to launch the Empire on a journey of glorious combat and expansion. We had assumed it was your father, Jeviic, the greatest Kelv'alor of all time, but even he was defeated by the Vhek'ada, his only defeat in any of his campaigns. Our scholars and priests assume the time of the Chosen One will not come for another thousand years." The scholar said. Katria let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "You and your superstitions." She grumbled out, blowing a taft of hair, that the wind had blown into her face, away, though it instantly returned to it's previous position. An audible groan was heard from Serec as the winds began picking up again. This time, however, something odd happened. The wind rushed from behin them, and from in front of them. Suddenly, a huge wall of sand burst up out of the ground, and swirled around the Kelvashi, blinding them to everything around them. As quickly as it had started, the sand dropped to the ground, and Katria shouted in shock as a figure stood in front of her, and army to his back. It was the Vhek'ada, they had seemingly appeared out of thin air! Panic set throughout the Kelvashi lines, but a sharp howl from Katria ended that quickly. Katria drew her axe, dipping the blade down into the sand, standing defient to the Vhek'ada. The Vhek'ada warrior in front of her lifted his hand up, signaling something to the warriors behind him. Katria looked up, just noticing the archers, who began lowering their bows. She quickly turned back to looks at the Vhek'ada warrior who stood before her. He had a wrap around his face, typical of the Vhek'ada. His armor was made of some kind of hide, and while it looked average, the Kelvashi new from experience, that it was not. A curved scimitar hung from his left hip, a dagger, was sheathed on his right. He had a Tattoo of some kind on his right shoulder. The warrior began walking forward, slowly, towards Katria, who tightened her grip on her axe. Suddenly, Bjorn charged past her, heading straight for the Vhek'ada. The Warriors behind him raised their bows, but he threw his fist up into the air as his eyes narrowed at Bjorn, and the bows dropped once again.
    persian_caravan_by_variones-d97voec.jpg


    As Bjorn raised his axe into the air, the Vhek'ada made his move. Dashing in quickly, he used his smaller size to his advantage, and quickly threw Bjorn off balance, sending him tumbling into the sand and dust below. He drew his scimitar and notched his hand in what appeared to be a cloth line, that was attached to the hilt, all in one fluid motion. The sword dropped to inches from Bhorn's throat, before the Vhek'ada turned, looking back at Katria once more. He sheathed his blade, and walked away from Bjorn, who was laying on the ground with the air knocked out of him, heading back in Katria's direction. Katria stood defient still, axe ready to be used. The Vhek'ada finally stopped an arms length away from Katria, before beginning a slow circle around her, looking her up and down. Katria kept an eye on him from the corner of her eyes, her head turning slightly, though the rest of her body was motionless. The Warrior finally stopped back in his original position in front of her. Suddenly, his hand dropped back to his scimitar! Katria's instinct immediatly had her raising her Axe up to swing, but she managed to stop herself as the man suddenly knelt to one knee. "Adik'be'Kad (Daughter of Kad), we have waited a long time for your arrival. We pledge ourselves to you, and are ready to fight in your name, for your Empire." The man suddenly said. Katria was shocked, and her mouth dropped open slightly as she witnessed the army of Vhek'ada kneeling before her. She turned to look back at Serec, but he seemed to be just as amazed as she was. "You!? You are the Chosen One?" He blurted out, quickly throwing his hands up over his mouth in embaresement, and fear. The Vhek'ada warrior in front of her rose up. "I am known as Thanik al-Hadra, Adik'be'Kad. I am Akaan'alor (War Chieftian) of these gathered Clans. The might of the Vhek'ada stands before you, Adik'be'Kad, ready to see a world anew. Kad Ha'rangir calls with a mission for you, that of war, conquest, and Alliance, and we will be by your side every step of the way, if you permit it." He said, bowing his head in respect. "Very well, Akaan'alor al-Habra, I accept your allegience." Katria said, trying to put forth her most regal attitude in her voice as she spoke. "Gather your warriors, and march to our Capital, you shall be welcomed with open arms." She said, nodding to add in some kind of effect. Thanik bowed, and twirled on heel, marching past Bjorn, who was just rising to his feet, without a second glance.
    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Months had passed since the addition of the Vhek'ada, and many changes had taken place within the Empire. An official military force was put into place, each clan being mixed together to form legions. New Generals were chosen to compliment those who already served, and Bjorn Kril-Kendov was given the title of Ori Al'verde, Supreme Commander of Imperial forces. Under Katria's rule, the Kelvashi changed from a culture of united Clans, to that of a true Empire. Preperations were being made to launch a full scale incursion into the new world. New armor was being forged, new weapons crafted.
    4uyyj7.jpg

    Although the Vhek'ada did not fit in with the Traditional Legion, there excellent combat skills, and their ability to disappear and reappear in and out of the landscape allowed them to serve as scouts and skirmishers. Those who were not scouts or skirmishers fell under the command of newly promoted Alor Thanik al-Habra, who had formed the Shadow Legion, a unit designed to hit the enemy hard, and then fade into shadows.

    They were ready. They were preparred. The Kelvashi were coming. Alliances will be forged, war will break out. Kingdoms of the New Land, be prepared.
     

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