Gaubert, Keep of Anticlere

Gaubert sat at his oaken desk, a quill in hand. The gloomy light that was cast upon the room flickered with the lively movements of the lit candle, which gave a sense of perverted darkness in the room. Light glanced off Gaubert's ceremonial armor, which was locked behind a glass case. He scribbled furiously on a piece of new parchment, and, when he ran out of ink, he quickly and lightly dipped the end of the quill in an ink jar. It was a letter addressed to the leader of Daggerfall, Gothryd II Capet, whom of which was one of the biggest worries on the leader's mind. He understood their political position, and the tension which grew exponentially between the two each day. Gaubert thought the best way of coming around to dealing with this threat is to create a false sense of security, which, in turn, would ultimately lead to their demise. Gaubert didn't have anything malicious in his mind for their neighboring country yet, but, in the mean time, it was good that they had a mutual understanding which states that they are not enemies.

Dear King Gothryd of Daggerfall,

I bid thee welcome, King of Daggerfall, as I welcome you into the new era. As much as I would like to go on about great things of the time, I have a tendancy to ramble, and I do not think you have the time, as it is precious. As much as I would like to, we cannot deny the recent revolutions and the tension that is growing throughout our motherland. Times are rough, and the people are growing tense. I understand that there is a possibility of hostility between us, you and I, but, I wish to apprise you of our disposition. We have no reason to fight, nor any reason to compete in any way. We, I think, should move towards the greater good for our motherland. However, it is easy for us to stray the path of righteousness when we would rather give in to our mortal sins and transgressions, but that is why we must be strong. If we can stick together, then just perhaps, things can run smoothly. The world is changing-we must roll with the change-or we face destruction.

-Gaubert of Anticlere

He put down his quill and stretched his hand. He noticed the growing age that was hidden deep within his skin, and he sighed. He slowly stood up, setting down his quill and putting the cork back on his ink jar. He walked through his private quarters, and slowly opened the door. The door was flanked by guards, and, even though Gaubert denied the need of guards, the city insisted upon it. He took the peice of parchment, and handed it to one of his inferiors.

"Deliver this to the King of Daggerfall, if you may. It is urgent." Gaubert said. The man, whom seemed a bit rattled by the urgency in the whole situation, nodded, bowed, and ran off towards the other end of the keep. Gaubert wryly smiled at the situation, and retreated back into his quarters. If everything went smoothly, he would recieve a letter from Daggerfall that agreed with Gaubert's statement. Hopefully he could fool his own people with the false sense of peace, which would, in turn, lead to his personal ambitions. Hopefully...Daggerfall would soon fall.

OOC:So, I sent that letter to PFA. Not anyone else.

Court of Daggerfall

Oh, the hardships of being a king.

Lazily leaning his head on his left hand, Gothryd felt his back slip down the backrest of his lavish throne. He had spent the last night awake, arguing fiercely with his advisors; it all ended with another enraged rant that encompassed all, from the scum of United Bretony and Wayrest to several choice words for those advisors. It took him only ten minutes to calm down afterwards and hastily appologize to those who dared stay up with him, then send them off to sleep. Now, as usual, he was feeling completely drained.

The king of Wayrest must be a happy man. He needn't put up with his nobility. Forwning only slightly, the king looked at his court with a bit of hidden anger and reproach. Dozens of nobles, and all of them so annoying... so boring. Always whining about rights and the Magna Carta, how I musn't do that and how this was a touch out of line. All of them so boring. Boredom was something that plagued Gothryd all too often; sometimes he'd walk up to the window with one of his courtiers and say 'I'm bored, sir, let us be bored together'. His court found this worrying, however there was little they could do - feasts and hunts could only keep their monarch entertained for so long. No other ruler probably shared Gothryd's problem at such a time in High Rock; but then, Gothryd was a rather unique individual.

Finding no satisfaction in making his courtiers avert their eyes when he looked at them, the monarch's mind inevitably wandered to more important business than the intrigues of his court, which he deemed 'petty'. Gothryd's problem seemed to be the fact he was an absolutist monarch stuck in a feudal one's position.

If only I had more time... Time. What is gold and men compared to it? It does away with both, sooner or later. With enough time I could prepare for the threat that looms ahead... I could make the peasants and traitors of 'United Bretony' suffer. I could do away with these so-called 'magnates' and finally rival Wayrest... Leave a legacy to match the kings of Daggerfall that reigned in the First Era. Forts need time to be built, roads need time to be paved, men need time to grow, swords need time to craft. My kingdom for a bit of time... Time enough to trick my rivals, use them for my own ends. Time enough to prepare for all that's to come. Some may deceive themselves that the storm may pass without rain or lightning, that this is only a distant thundering we shouldn't be concerned by. Best of luck to them, when their homes burn in the fires of this much-vaunted change.

Change... Bah!

Things don't change. The history of my forebears is more than enough of an indication. I have a task worth my great-grandfather ahead of me; although Elysana might prove to be a fluke compared to what this 'United Bretony' might bring to High Rock. After all, for all the fuss Elysana didn't change anything.Though in the land of my people, nothing changes; even though the leaders of this gathering of those too weak to accomplish anything alone and those unworthy of even attempting to accomplish anything would have their people believe they'll bring 'unity', Bretons won't unite voluntarily. The Empire had the right idea; if anything is will be accomplished, it will be by blood and iron, not assemblies and votes.

Sighing silently, Gothryd's frown took on a depressed quality as he sat on his throne, doing the only thing he could do now - waiting.

Wightmoor Castle, Barony of Dwynnen

Olbol of Kambria, Dwynnen's Chancellor, had come out into the Inner Bailey of Wightmoor to greet a group of well-dressed men. Mounted a top common geldings inferior to their Baron's well-bred stallions, and sporting the trimmed beards of those who were adherents to Dwynnen's Represenative Party. Olbol knew that this group had been causing quite a ruckus in Dwynnen proper ever since United Bretony had come into being. They weren't from Dwynnen, that much was apparent, for no Son of Forest would be as brazen as these fancy men. They casted their eyes about the bailey, and stared at the soaring keep, as if measuring how much money they could get by tearing down the Baron's primary residence. The chancellor grimaced at that, for that was just what these men had in mind. They had been to the castle numerous times before, offering to buy the castle from his Lordship, Olwyn of Dwynnen, and each time they had been turned away. As they were shown out, they would always call out that Wightmoor Castle, a structure that had stood for centuries, was a representation of the Old Order, and was symbol of oppression. That did not sit well with Olbol, or the garrison. Whatever his lord's opinion on the matter was, he didn't know.

Walking down the steps, Olbol called to the men who were now dismounting, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. What brings you to his lordship's residence?"

"Let us cut the pleasantries, 'Sir'," the leader of these Represenatives was a squat littleman, dark haired and dark eyed, who looked at Olbol with a measure of disrespect, "For weeks, we have the journey out to here, bearing the offer to purchase this castle -for no small sum I might add- and each time we have been turned away. Well," he reached into his doublet and pulled out a roll of parchment, "I have here a message from Dwynnen's assembly, and the most prominent merchants of that city. Either your lord submits, and sells us this property, or we will take it from him. The choice is--"

"The Baron of Dwynnen submits to no man!" This new voice alarmed both Olbol and the Represenatives. Striding from Great Hall was Geoff le Tanner, Olwyn's Champion, and at his back were all thirty of the Knights-Companion of the Order of the Raven. Their hands were on their sword-hilts, and it looked to the chancellor as if they had murder in their eyes. "By what right do you come here, the site of Othrok's Victory, and dare to threaten his lordship."

The Represenative Leader was startled, even frightenend, but he had to keep up a bold front. "My right is one given to the People by the Gods. Still your baron refuses to heed Dwynnen's assembly-" He was cut-off when Geoff started laughing loudly. "If I may continue? He refuses to listen to the will of the people, refuses to appear at the assembly, and continues to fortify his castles all over the barony. He snubs us humble Represenatives all for his pride. And, though I hope this not be true, I have heard that he plans on opening talks with the Tyrant of Daggerfall!"

Threats were now being thrown at the Represenatives, and a few of the Knights had even drawn their swords. Geoff did not seem incline to cease their haraguing, and Olbol knew he couldn't stop them.

"I suggest you leave here, knaves, lest an 'accident' happens to befall you." All knew of Geoff le Tanner's reputation, having been found on a battlefield flaying his fallen foes. The Represenatives, with great despatch, were wheeling their horses, and galloping out through the gates, hurling curses over their shoulders.

"You could have handled that better, Geoff," Olbol muttered as he ascended the steps, "Knowing those whoresons, they will go right to the assembly and preach their foolish doctrine, and proclaim Olwyn a tyrant."

"Yes, that is their likely course of action. We should have killed them when we had the chance, and be done with it."

Sighing, Olbol continued on into the Great Hall. From there, he went to find the baron. As was usual for the past few days, he found him in the castle solar, playing games with his niece and nephew, Siwan and Rhodri.

"Now, which hand is the ball in?"

"Left!" the children squealed. Grinning, Olwyn opened his left hand, revealing nothing but air. "Ehh?! Right!" the Baron of Dwynnen opened his right hand, once again revealing nothing. The children stared dumbfounded at this. Grinning, Olwyn snapped his fingers, then reached behind their ears, producing two small wooden spheres. The children squeled in deligt. And that's when Olwyn noticed Olbol in the doorway.

"Rhodri, why don't you and your sister go down to the kitchens. Tell the cook to give you two some wafers. I need to speak with my chancellor." The children were too young to understand, but were happy to get something to eat. Ushering them out the door, Olwyn invited Olbol in.

"So," Olbol thought it was best to make small-talk first, "I see the children are adjusting well. Do they miss their parents?"

"Very much. I still don't understand why my sister married a man who wouldn't take her children. But I guess it can't be helped." Olwyn walked over and sat down in a window-seat. "So, I heard there was an altercation in bailey. Tell me."

"Of course, my lord. The Represenatives were back again, threatening that if you didn't sell Wightmoor to them, they would come back to take it from you."

"They can try. Olbol, I want orders relayed to the Order of the Raven. Tell them that if they see any of these 'Represenatives' they are to take them into custody and deport them from my lands. I do not take kindly to rabble-rousers, who pray on the peoples fears and make me seem like Dagon himself."

"My lord, are you sure that is wise?"

A very intense look came into Olwyn's eyes. "I will not be dictated to! My uncle was coerced into joining this 'United Bretony', and I would leave it if I could. I will not be like he fools who sit on their thrones, who acquiese to the demands of idiots who play on peoples fear and fatten their pockets. Relay my order."

"Yes, your lordship. I will at once."

Private quarters, Castle Wayrest
----------------------------------------
Syagrius paced back and forth in his private quarters. his simple black robe made him look like a walking shadow, striding through the barely the lit room. He was contemplating the dire straits Wayrest had found itself in. Enemies surround us, and I wonder what will happen when that floating rock in Morrowind falls...anyway, there must be some way to crack that fragile alliance of fools and cowards, to drive a splinter into its armor, to turn them against each other. and then there is Gothryd in Daggerfall. Probably not worth the trouble, cross him off the list and replace with orsinium. If only I could kill off that entire race of mutants. But no, we wouldn't survive the war. Maybe they'd like to learn the benefits of colonialism? and then those Direnni, I need their naval power...

Syagrius' hurried thoughts were brought to an abrupt end when one of his men entered the room.

"You summoned me, sire?"

"Yes, I need you to send out emissaries to Orsinium, the Isle of Balifera, and to Daggerfall, along with the town of Kambria. Also, have someone be on standby to go to Anticlere. Secondly, find Sarafine Lewin and have her brought to the castle library. Finally, get me the report on Koegria that the field marshall prepared." Syagrius barked out his orders with haste, and he seemed quick to return to his thoughts afterward.

"Yes, my lord!"

THe servant ran out of the room as quickly as possible, hoping to get everything done before his King had a chance to grow impatient.

"ugh, guess I have to get dressed. Its so hard to get this outfit on..."

Syagrius pulled a velvet rope that was suspended from the ceiling, which in turn set off a bell in the servants quarters. Within minutes, his personal servant arrived to help him get dressed.

Wayrest: Ivan's Pub

Sarafine sat alone in the pub with a drink that she had yet to touch. Her interest did not lie with the alcohol in front of her; it laid with the men sitting to her right.
"I'm telling you, this is the biggest bounty that we have ever seen." The tallest man said. "All we have to do is get a hold of this Remy guy and we bring him to the boss. Then he'll take care of it from there and we can all live as rich men."

"Why does he want Remy?" the man sitting next to him asked.

"I don't know, apparently he's a politician. But who cares, it's not like we have to be involved with the politics around here."

Sarafine shifted uncomfortably. She didn't know this Remy, but she knew that he must be of some importance if these men were looking for him.

She ran a hand through her hair and played with her earlobe. All she needed was a few more minutes to try and figure out who this boss of theirs was, and then she could leave and report to her superiors and hopefully protect Remy and put another crime boss and traitor away for a very long time. Hurry up and spit his name out already, I've had enough of the pub already.

Just then, a young man came bustling through the door. His face was red from exertion and he was gasping for breath. The Breton scanned the room quickly until his eyes met Sarafine's. He hurried over to her and nearly knocked a waitress over. "Sarafine Lewin?"

"Now is not the best time lad." She said quietly, trying not to draw attention. It was then that she saw the men staring at her from the corner of her eye. "I'm having a drink and I would like to be left in peace."

"It's urgent milady. King Syagrius has requested your audience."

"Let's go." She heard one of the men whisper beside her. They were gone before she could blink.

"Did you see those two men leave just now?" Sarfine asked the messenger, trying very hard not to lose her temper.

"Um, yes." He said nervously.

"Well those were my targets, and now thanks to you they're gone and so are my leads. Tell me what the King wants and do it fast, for I feel the need to throw you across the room."

"The King wants to see you in the library milady." He said rapidly.

"Thank you, now go." She said sharply. The young man did not hesitate and was gone very quickly.

Sarafine downed her drink in one gulp and made her way towards the castle.

edit: Okay Steve im gonna change the king to chanceller.

Phyrgras, Townsquare

"Today my fellow Bretony's, I believe I speak for all of us when I say that we must stop our advance of war. Instead we must bring High Rock together. We must unite the Bretons, we must unite the orcs, we must unite the kingdoms, and we must unite the kings. Nothing can be won with bloodshed, I say reject the chancellers answers for war, instead ask your chanceller for peace." Ri'skar spoke from atop his wooden stage. "I dare everyone here to write the chanceller of Camlorn a letter demanding that he should try to unite High Rock instead of foolishly destroy it!!" People then began to cheer. Ri'skar was just happy to get his message of peace across. He was so young, and yet had so much inspiration.

"Lets stop war here and now. Now I leave you today, in hopes that you'll take my advice and come to realize that going to war is not the answer. And that the chanceller would be a fool to fight!!!" Ri'skar then finished and stepped off the stage. One last roar from the crowd erupted and Ri'skar felt satisfied. Backstage Ri'skar splashed water in his face, for several months now he had been trying to turn High Rock from a violent mess to a peaceful sanctuary united under one flag. He couldn't let the chanceller of Camlorn know that he was leading this campaign, at least not until he was sure that the king agreed with him.

"Hey Ri'skar whats up?" Ri'skar turned around to find his good friend and partner Terell. He was a redguard who like Ri'skar had left his violent and war torn homeland alone and went out to seek a better life. "Good speech today, I'm sure with our growing number of supporters we can have High Rock liberated in know time." Terell said hopefully.

"Ha let's pray that it'll be that easy. But still, It seems like there if very little hope, tensions are growing between the people of High Rock we don't have much time." Ri'skar said shaking his head.

"Ri'skar my friend, you think to pessimistically. Sometimes hope is all we got." Terell said with confidence.

"I see what you mean. But hope can't stop death. And that's what were trying to prevent right now!" Ri'skar exclaimed.

"Ri'skar you have much to learn. If your always looking down how will you see what's up." The Redguard said.

"I guess your right. But still I don't know how the chanceller of Camlorn will react when I propose my ideas to him." Ri'skar shook his head. "If he doesn't agree I feel a peaceful solution will no longer be possible."

"He will, trust me you've gotta have confidence!" Terell said patting Ri'skar on the back.

"Lets hope friend, lets hope...." Ri'skar finished before turning around and walking off.

OOC: Dark Fox, United Bretony is united... Eh, PM me if you are confused. If you were going to post something about the king of Camlorn's actions, you probably should have let Steve post first. Anyway, don't worry about it. Aye, everyone, nice posts and stuff so far. Hopefully this will get more interesting as we go along. I am going to try to jumpstart some interaction now. Blademaster, don't mind the guard control. My knights are well known.

IC:

Montierre DeFortescue II

"Sir, are you positive of this?"

Saxon's face was darkened in the candlelight of the room, the closed window fading any light from the sun. Saxon was Montierre's head advisor, the same one who had served his father so. He was surprised Saxon, even at the age of 40, still had his ruffly short black hair and kept an age form of 8 years younger. The two sat at a desk, a parchment in front of each. Montierre looked almost worried, but then again, a confident look showed through his face. He looked tired, but was eased to a degree.

"Yes, Saxon, I am certain. Haven't you agreed to me on the matter?"

Saxon paused for a moment, looking down at the parchment. He then nodded his head at the ruler. Montierre's father raised him well, and he saw Saxon on an equal level to himself.

"Yes sir."

His response was eased by a sense of agreement. He wasn't terribly worried of the situation, but then again, he still had to deal with it. The count then spoke his piece once more to Saxon, who was now slightly more eased back in his chair.

"As we have agreed, Wayrest is more of a threat than Daggerfall-"

Saxon did what he did rarely: he cut the count off. The count didn't mind it though. Saxon seemed tense.

"Because of the professional troops, yes?"

The count didn't hesitate to proceed in finishing his thought.

"A bit Saxon, a bit. I don't feel terribly comfortable with Bhiorane in control of Wayrest. They serve as a docking point for any Wayrestian power. The Direnni already let Wayrest pass through the Illiac. The last thing we need is their armies on our land. We are on the border, after all. Daggerfall would have to go through Anticlere. Gaubert is a capable military leader, and I doubt Daggerfall will break through Anticlere easily."

The count folded the paper up and gave it to Saxon.

"I'd like you to send William to Anticlere. Give this to the general, tell him to begin drilling the troops. Order the scouts to scout out the area around Bhorhiane. I want to see how many of these nobles respect Charles' rule."

Saxon got up, taking the paper. The count had one last thing to say to him though.

"And Saxon, I'd like you to travel to Dwynnen. Speak with the Baron there."

"Sir, are you positive? Isn't my primary duty here, in the city?"

"Saxon, I would like to have you here with me, but go to Dwynnen. You are the most understanding of all my councilmen, and I need you now."

Saxon nodded one last time, making his way out of the room. The count continued to sit there, finally pulling out another parchment, setting it on his desk.



Sir Louis Chevalier

The streets of Kambria were as they always were at the midday. It didn't matter to Louis though. Most of everyone respected his knights, as they made their way through the streets on horseback. He and his nine best knights now saw the castle in the distance where the King's council was held. Eventually they arrived there at the front, guards waiting. They would recognize the lion that the knights bore on their shields. The knights dismounted, and one of them muttered a wish; next, the guards led the horses to some type of stable, where they would be kept until the men were done with their audience. Louis and his knights approached the castle gate, the guards nodding to them with ease. They walked through the first hall, approaching Lord Daric's throne. Each of them kneeled on one knee, Louis the only one turning his head upward to look at the Lord.

"Sir Daric, I wish to speak."

Name: Alarei

Race: Khajiit (Cathay-raht)

Age: 32

Gender: Male

Birthsign: Shadow

Physical Appearance: Alarei stands at a generous 6ft tall, with a body built like a predator. Strong but offering a good deal of speed and agility. His fur is pitch black like the night sky, with deep green eyes, a small white spot is on the top of his tail. No known scars or other identifying marks are on his body save for a small white tattoo on the right side of his neck.

Apparel: He wears a dark coloured set of Medium leather armour, which is reienforced at areas which require little movement such as the chest, thights and front of the shins with metal plates in the armour. His gloves are finger-tipless.

Weapons: A Silver Katana, Steel throwing Knives (x 10), a Shortbow with a quiver of fire and Frost enchanted arrows (20 of each)

Misc: A unique amulet around his neck, made from gold and Obsidian with an invisbility enchantment. (One use per charge)

Misc Info: As an assassin Alarei has become very skilled in stealth, but what makes him more infamous is his uncanny skill with Illusion. With the ability to take on many illusions of different beings, with enough practice.

History/Bio: Alarei was a street kid, growing up on the streets of Vivec city. He stole to make a living, often finding his way into peoples home or places where they wouldnt suspect him to be. Eventually this got him into trouble, often with ordinators whom he enjoyed leading on a merry chase through the cities cantons. Until one day he wound up inside the Morag Tong Headquarters. Instead of being killed or handed to the guards, the grandmaster at the time found it amusing the little kid that was in their base had managed to sneak past all their assassins. while they slept or did their daily duties. With alittle coaxing he managed to get the boy out of his hiding place and offered him a deal of a lifetime.

The young lad gratefully took the deal, free food, free shelter and all he had to do was train with them. Overtime the training became more and more combative, learning how to kill, silently, stealthily. How to make deaths look like accidents, or poison someone. At the age of fifteen he executed his first assassination, a noble of House Hlaalu. A quick, silent kill. A sudden 'slip' down the stairs in which his neck got broken, or so it seemed. Slowly though the youngster began to take classes of illusion, funding himself with the money he got from his contracts, or what he stole when No one saw. Overtime Alarei earned some infamy within morrowind, with his illusion skills and assasination skills starting to take new levels it was inevitable he would begin to expand on his operation. having taken some considerable pleasure of Murder, the hunt, the chase. Sometimes toying with his mark before finally ending their life swiftly and quietly. Of course he had his limits, never killing entire families or murdering children.

At the age of 27 Alarei left the Morag Tong and began to go freelancing, selling his skills to others whom paid high prices for his abilities, with the gold he earned he sought more training in the many arts of assasination from different people, working on the illusion through the mages guild even. Alarei gained a reputation as being a killer of many faces, useing seduction on victims, the faces of their loved ones, or even the face of personal guards. Sometimes none of these at all, always mixing it up. At age 30 Alarei disappeared suddenly, for two years nothing was heard from him, even suspected dead by the imperial guard. Two years later he re-emerged from hiding and began to sell his services once more. Thus which brings him to high rock, a place of challenge and intruige, somewhere he can cash in on his services and live a very comfortable life.



DAGGERFALL

Early morning, the birds sang and the smell of cooking bacon was on the air, His nostrils flared slightly as the smell entered his Inn room, the khajiit, hidden under a pile of blankets stirred and slowly slid out of bed with a THUNK! as he hit the floor in a tired daze. getting up and scratching his gut, Alarei stared at himself in the large wall high mirror, yawning rather widely, showing off his large white canine teeth. He couldn't help but stretch out and turn around, moving to get some clothes on. I need to make a few good deals today, been along time since I have hunted.. he thought to himself as he slid on his clothes, then armour. All this political turmoil would indeed score him some excellent contracts, play both sides off on each other. The dark furred khajiit finished putting his clothes and kit on, making sure he was in a presentable condition Alarei headed out of his room, down the stairs and into the reception area. Daggerfall Inns were very stylish, Such a shame there aren't many khajiit here. he thought as he paid for the room and a very hefty meal. Bacon, eggs, toast, a good deal of fruits. thankfully it wasnt all for him. Heading outside and sitting at one of the tables there, he ate his meal. Saveing the fruit for snacks later on in the day. he figured by now, with two kills done in Daggerfall alone with his typical mark left, it would rouse some feathers.

OOC: Again for the last time woolymammoth I make no mention about the united bretony not being united. If you see something wrong please pm me my post and bold where you are seeing this because I do not see what you are talking about. I clearly stated in my post that I want to unite High rock not the Bretony and I have read through my whole post.

Chancellor's Quarters, Camlorn Castle

Dusk was waning as the candle light glistened of the walls of Dandre's bedroom. It seemed too pleasant for a building that played host to so much spilled blood. Large portions of the castle have been worn down over time. During the years prior to the reform a common tale spoken during tours was that the stone of the castle had been eroded by royal blood. The inhabitants would respond,"which king, yesterday's, today's, or tomorrow's?" The joke referenced how often the crown had exchanged heads under a monarchy.

Glaring at a map of the Illiac Bay was Chancellor Idhdea. One would merely have to breath to feel tension in the air. United Bretony was currently composed of eight realms. Camlorn, Anticlere, Dwynnen, Phrygias, Kambria, Urvaius, Daenia, and Ykalon. Although, Dandre was unsure of the loyalty of Kambria and Daenia. Dwynnen's true aspirations were unclear as well. Of course they all dreamed of a united High Rock under the banner of United Bretony, but when reality set in and the full might of Daggerfall and Wayrest could be threatening at their borders, who could blame them for not possibly being scared?

The dream could hopefully be accomplished with ink and quill, but it would be unlikely without iron and blood. For now it seemed better to just let things be. Camlorn like many United Bretony states was experiencing stability for the first time in a long time. It would be wiser to stay put for now rather than charging into a crusade to manifest High Rock's supposed destiny.

A cool spring breeze coasted in, prompting Dandre to close the shutters. He walked outside of his quarters and called to a nearby guard.

"Chancellor, sir, what can I do for you?" spoke the guard.

"I need you to go down to the stables and send a messenger for a khajiit noble by the name of Ri'skar," he instructed. "Last I heard he was preaching in Phrygias."

"Yes, sir," responded the guard before walking off.

He continued back into his quarters and laid in bed. The soft mattress and fluffy covers felt relieving after a stressful day. Dandre pondered what he needed to do tomorrow. If anything, he would be grateful to discuss current plans with the khajiit noble. He had begun to feel a little disconnection in his goals, the council's goals, and the people's goals.

Castle Wayrest
-------------------
Now adorned in his royal robes, and with his crown being carried by a servant, King Charles made his way to the Castle library to meet his assassin before holding court. It was rare for Syagrius to personally meet such individuals, but the issue he needed resolved was a dire one indeed. As he rounded a corner, Ankus Copperfield came up from behind, saying "there you are," under his breath. (for it would be disrespectful to shout it as fi talking to an acquaintance or friend)

"Good morning my lord! I bumped into a servant who said he was ordered to bring you the Koegria report, and since I needed to talk to you anyway, I brought it myself." Ankus said, eager to discuss military strategy.

"Ah, thank you Ankus..." Syagrius took the report from his General, and after glancing it over, placed it under his arm. "I see you still have that bounce in your step."

"Well, If I don't keep up this chipper mood my hair is bound to go gray."

"At least I don't have that problem!" Syagrius said with a laugh. Continuing on to more serious matters, he then said, "Now Ankus, I need you to begin the operation. Once everything has run its course we must be ready." Syagrius made sure to only speak in generalities, so that the servant would not hear any crucial details.

"Yes my lord!" Ankus beamed, his upbeat attitude an ever-present peculiarity in the Castle.

Syagrius then produced a small, yellow folder. He quickly handed it to Ankus, who upon receiving it left as quickly as he arrived.

Finally arriving at the Library, Syagrius had the servant carrying his crown leave it on a table, and he then dismissed everyone currently in the room. If the assassin did not show up for the briefing soon, he would have to summon his spy master to conduct it.

Wayrest: Castle Entrance

Sarafine strode towards the castle at a quick pace. She never liked being late to meet the King, she saw it as an insult towards His Majesty and she wasn't ready to insult him anytime soon.

"Stop right there ma'am." One of the gate guards ordered. "I'll have to ask you to hand over your weapons before entering the castle."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Sarafine shot back.

"Then I'm afraid I can't let you in."

"Dantelus!" the other guard spat, "watch your tongue or I'll rip it out. This woman is a direct agent to His Majesty and we will let her in with her weapons." Sarafine couldn't help but smile slyly. "My apologise milady," he continued, "Dantelus is new to the watch."

"It is quite alright Warren," Sarafine said pleasantly, "I shall forget this ever happened." The two guards quickly opened the gate, gave one more apology, and let her inside.

Sarafine walked as fast as was proper for a lady in the castle. Soon she was at the library and nearly out of breath. She adjusted her posture and smoothed her hair then proceeded to open the heavy wooden door to the library.

She had always enjoyed the library. Thousands of books lined the walls. Some were dusty old tomes; others were brand new, fresh books from all over Tamriel. Sarafine had little time for reading, but she loved it. If she could, she would spend hours on end in the library, digesting every word.

In the middle of library, sat the lonely figure of the King. Sarafine walked over to him and bowed before him. "Your Grace, I apologize for my tardiness."

Gaubert, Council Chambers

"Now, gentlemen, there is a myriad of changes that need to be brought about to this city. First of all, I want to direct the treasury to training the militia. I can only hold of the Beast of the West for so long with politics. Their leader is power-hungry. We need to train them, and buy new equipment for them. Also, later this year, I will open the Academy of Magnus. It will be an academy which will teach people about the ways of Magicka. And hopefully, with enough time, we can get magic out of some people, increasing the number of mages we have in this town.

"Also, I am sending some naval ships down to the Illiac Coast to regulate trade and secure and smugglers or enemies. I will be sending Patrol Ships, which will be reinforced by Fireflies. No need to draw attention, so there will be no more ships deployed. Once we get that done, I can rest safely."

The council nodded, and Gaubert gave the order to disperse. It would be a lot, but he was confident in his people. They could accomplish this. It was a time of revolution-the people needed to be united against a common enemy. Gaubert needed a scapegoat to blame the future problems they will have on. If this goes through smoothly, then hard times will only bring us together, which was just what a leader wanted. It was only a while before he was drawn into a war; Gaubert, however, wanted to wait for the opponent to make the first move, as he didn't want to cause dissention by mobilizing troops. He was pushing as it is with the new patrol boats going out. Hopefully, all would be well.

OOC: So, Patrol Boats will soon be patrolling the Illiac Bay. If they see anything suspicious, they will pull you over. They are on orders to board any ships that are not associated with United Bretony and check their cargo. They will be supported by military-grade ships, so if anyone tries anything brave, they will be taken out.

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Ships Mobilized:
Dragonflies (5/20) [Medium] - Dragon Flies are made for naval warfare. They are slow yet powerful, and can attack at range. On a raised platform on the stern, there is a trebuchet which is used to attack slow moving or dormant boats. It is usually used against boats which are docked or boarded to an ally. Anyways, the Dragonfly is about 40 feet wide and 100 feet long. It is driven by sailing only, and can only hold 50 people. Most of them are engineers, however, leaving the navy doing hard work. It can also attack land targets at a maximum of 200 yards away.

Patrol Boats (15/15) [Medium] - Patrol boats are armed with veteran guards, vigilant and seaworthy. The boat itself holds an unusually high crow’s nest so the guards can see even further. They are about 100 feet long and 20 feet wide. They hold expensive steel bows that are used for ramming and crushing enemy ships if they decided to try and flee the dominance of a patrol ship. Powered by both wind and man power, it moves through the seas at a high speed level for a medium sized ship. It is mostly used for making sure everything is in line, and setting up blockades. It usually holds up to 100, half of that being rowers. The rest are guards/sailors.

OOC: I'll get my general and scout leader for Urvaius up sometime.

Writers block is killing me...these are just some posts for my groups, Saxon, William, etc. Blademaster, my guy is waiting for you whenever you want to post. I'll post for my merc band when this writer's block is off...

IC:

Saxon, Urvaius

His orders were given. The general had been informed, and scouts were on their way to the outskirts of Bhoriane. Saxon had met William at the center of the town, informing him of his orders. They both sat on their mounts respectively. William was a young Breton, with slick jet-black hair. He was a sly one, clever as could be.

"Saxon, be careful."

William nodded one last time, and then rode off to the south. Saxon didn't have to worry for William; he could, after all, take care of himself...

The emissary started off to the North accompanied by eight city guards, each with bows and swords, covered in iron mail. Dwynnen would be a day or two's journey on horseback. The forest was deep on both sides, surrounding the rocky road. The steeds were durable ones, galloping at a good pace. Saxon now thought about what he would say to the Baron; he knew that he wasn't all the comfortable with United Bretony. He thought and thought; finally, he knew exactly what he was going to say.


Scouts, on the way to Bhiorane

Horse hooves beat upon the stone road to the north. These men had gone ahead of the emissaries as soon as they had received the order. Their mission was as important as ever. The estimate was that there were about 300 of them, each being armed in leather with a sword for protection; they each carried a torch. Montierre had known many of the nobles were sided against Wayrest, some even forming their own rebel groups. The scouts would be in Bhoriane territory in under a day. The scout leader still held the same folder as if he had looked at it. There appeared to be an undisclosed order...

OOC: Sorry I haven't squeezed a post out folks. Back at school is hectic and I'm skint on time for now (Although my schedule will no doubt free up as I settle into the rhythm of things). Heres a crappy introductory post, I hope I haven't missed anything. From what I gather, no emissaries are at my door just yet

IC:

Valgur and Razzog, Greyfang Keep

The gargantuan orc dug into his meal with the ferocity of a starved animal, grabbing at it with his massive hands and shoveling it into his gaping maw. It was an exquisite feast of boar, lamb, and steak...immaculately prepared and cooked to perfection; steaming with succulent juices. To his left sat a massive pewter goblet that looked like it could hold a litre of drink. It truly was a feast fit for a king.

He ripped a leg off the boar with surprising ease and tore into it with his tusks, rauaging the meat and flicking small pieces of the meal all over the large wooden table which he sat at. Smacking his greasy lips, he licked his fingers and dug into the steak with glee. To Valgur, table manners did not exist. All that mattered to him was getting as much food as possible in his stomach within the shortest amount of time.

A creaking noise was heard. The great wood doors at the end of the chamber swung open, and a beady and pale yet finely dressed orc entered the room. This pleased Valgur, and he stood up from his seat with outstretched arms. "Brother!" he called proudly. "How fare you? Still dressing like an upright noble I see...but it is good to see you regardless".

His hearty welcome was met with a cold and dismal stare. The well-clothed orc hurriedly scarpered over to his greater brother with the speed and grace of a rodent. "Just what were you thinking Valgur? Beheading your own men?! Words spreading throughout the keep with the speed of a fierce wind. Our warriors are unsettled, and our peasants are terrified. Just what kind of message are we trying to send?!". His words were bitter with stress.

The bigger orcs eyes welled up with anger as he slammed his fist on the table with enough force to send the great goblet spilling all over the floor. He had obviously been expecting this.

"Silence, Razzog! Do not forget who is warlord here. Any creature without honor deserves to be beheaded. Those men you speak of; warriors they were not! Skulking around the parlor, stealing the hard-earned food and drink and loading their fat bellies! They were thieves, criminals, cowards! Does a wolf steal it's meal from it's foe? Does it skulk in the bushes, sneaking like a lesser rat up to the meat and taking it before running away like a sheep? No! It meets it's opponent in battle and fights for it's survival. Thus the meat is deserved. Our hunters worked hard for that meat, and I will not tolerate it being wasted on gluttons".

The rant came unexpected to the smaller orc, who merely sighed and slunk his head before running a gloved hand over his shiny bald head. "Valgur, has the mountain air rotted your brain? Strong you are but thinking you are not. Do you know of the repercussions? What ill may come of your actions? These are troubled times, and in face of political collapse and the possibility of total war, we should not be wasting our time on the meddling greed of a few lowly guards!"

Valgur stepped towards his younger brother, wiping his great mouth with the back of his hand. He was now toe to toe with Razzog; the puny orcs head only going up to Valgurs chin. He chuckled lightly and picked his brother up with a grand bear hug, kissing him tenderly on both cheeks before letting him down to the ground.

"Calm down Razzog. You wish you were back in the city, no? Fear not. This keep is our front-most and safest outpost in all the mountains. From here, our plans will go unhindered, and any foul coward that seeks to lay siege to our grand province will have to pass through us first. You should be happier to fight alongside me in battle. Hah, you should be happier overall. Do not fear Razzog. Our people have nothing to be worried about. I see good times ahead for Orsinium. Come, sit with me. The wind outside is fierce, and some mountain boar will strengthen your mettle".

Razzog could not help but accept his brothers offer. Taking a seat beside Valgur, he gingerly picked up a piece of mutton; chewing it softly.

I hope you are right, Valgur. I hope you are right...

Castle Wayrest
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Ankus strode into the War-room of Castle Wayrest, his demeanor confirming what the 4 men present were expecting.

"Alright men, we've got clearance. The operation is green. What's your status?"

An elderly man, in his 60's, stood up from his chair at the circular table that dominated the room. He was a balding Imperial with gray hair by the name of Decimus Metellus. He was the Field Marshall of The Western Armies, and the man who would be responsible for setting the operation in motion.

"Everything is ready. Troop deployment can begin immediately."

Two of the other men nodded in agreement. They were Decimus' sector generals. Finally, the fourth man stood up. He was the Admiral of the fleet, a breton by the name of Astien Geles.

"The navy will be at full battle-readiness within the week, but we already have a third of our fleet on stand-by, ready for deployment."

Ankus grimaced at the news that the navy was not fully ready, but instead of pouncing on his subordinate, continued onto his next point. "Alright then, Men, you know what you need to do, and you know the cost of failure. We are drawing a line today, and this line shall never be penetrated, not even by the Princes of Misrule! Understood?"

"Understood!" was the response barked out by everyone in the room, who quickly stood at attention.


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"Not a problem Sarafine, not a problem. Now please, sit down." Syagrius gestured to the chair on the side of the table opposite from him. He then produced the folder containing the Koegria report, and place it on the table, making sure to slide it within arm's reach of his assassin. Leaning back, he then continued speaking.

"Sarafine, we have a problem. We have reason to believe that Bhoriane will be the first place lost to the coming war, and let me guarantee you their will be a war, for at the gates of our nation is a country of fools and idiots, who think electing more fools and idiots is a bright idea. To be quite frank I think Julianos forgot to light the figurative torch of United Bretony.

Anyway, As you will see detailed in the report on the table, Bhoriane and the surrounding region has been subject to various acts of terrorism. Arson, theft, and other such things. Its a small town with a small garrison, and the locals can do little to defend against such evils as terrorists and traitors. Its also in a very weak position militarily. I need you to go to Bhoriane, find the leaders of any terrorist group, any noble family, any bank or business or assembly of cowards and traitors that would dare finance or commit crimes against this great nation and kill them. Cut off the heads of these organizations, and then report their bases of operations to your contact for this operation, a man by the name of Finkus. Finkus will relay the information to the military, and they will cleanse Bhoriane of the body. You may find Finkus in a bar by the name of "Woodborne's head." Don't use the front entrance by the way, we have to take extra precautions this time. Behind the bar is a small hatch. Open the hatch, and descend into the bar's basemant. You will find a wall with a brick sticking out. Simply say "Molag Magicka" to reveal a secret room where you can safely meet Finkus. My spy master should arrive soon to provide a written version of the instructions and equipment."

Just as Syagrius said this, a man in black robes entered the room. He removed his hood to reveal a man with short black hair and beady brown eyes. The Spy-master was carrying a large, black case, and he set it upon the table.

"I'm sorry for the delay, your Majesty." he said with a cold, emotionless monotone.

"You're just in time, now I must depart for the throne room. Goodbye Sarafine. My spymaster can conduct the meeting from here." and with that comment, the King picked up his crown from the table, put it on, and walked out.

Godwyen and Edwin: Street of Llessan
The door slammed behind the King and his General as they marched out of the House of Commons. The King's angry brow and grim sneer was a sign to all peasants and civilians to stay out of his way and avoid his rage, be it at the point of a sword from his loyal guards.

A tattered beggar sleep on a street corner as the two nobles walked by. They hardly glanced at him, although their guards payed great attention to him. It would not have been the first attempt on Kind Edwin's life, but it sure would not be the last if they had any say in it.

"Who do they think they are? Traitors! Cowards! I should have them all hung for their ignorance! Godwyen, how the hell did it come to this? They used to love me. Now look at them, they basically over-rode me and forced my hand with those new "tariffs" they want me to impose. Those taxes are more highway robbery than a way to insure that illegal items are not crossing into our borders!" The young king spat.

"Ed, listen to me, you can't just storm out on the baron's like that. Your father would ha-"

"MY father would have taken their heads off at their necks for disrespecting him like that. Don't lecture me on my father , Godwyen." Edwin said. He stopped mid-step and examined the town around him.

"When I think of how much my father sacrificed for this town and these people, I lose a little of myself. Because of those Baron's, these people hate me, and because of that, they hate my fathers image. That is something I will not tolerate. I will NOT have my fathers image tarnished because of some sleezball nobles that want to take advantage of me to put a few more coins in their pockets.

"Edwin, I just don't know how you can handle this. The Barons control alot in this kingdom". Godwyen said. His voice was the Kings one voice of reason, the only voice he trusted.

"I am going to march into that room tomorrow and I am going to lay down the law on those Barons. I am going to teach them how to respect a king. Manners Godwyen, manners is what they are going to learn. They had better learn fast too, for my lash is more than just words." With that, the King turned and walked down the road, whistling a toon.

A sigh was all Godwyen could manage as he followed his old friend down the road of ruin. Or, that's what this whole situation seemed like to Godwyen.


EDIT: Spelling.

Viscount Arnand Thane of Daenia, Castle Daenia

The Viscount sat upon his throne, his face pressed against his cheek. He let a sigh of boredom float from his mouth and echo around the sparse hall he was sat in. He allowed his eyes to wander around, looking and admiring. Whilst the room lacked a large volume of furniture and decoration, Arnand had always prefered quality over quantity. His eyes traced the outlines of the tapestries that hung from the white stone walls before moving onto the similarly designed green and golden rug that extended from under his throne and to the gate to his throne room. He let out another yawn before waving his hand to a guard at the door, "Let another in." He said slowly. The grand doors swung open to reveal a rather frail looking man, a farmer Arnand assumed due to the man's muddy and rough looking attire. Hesitantly, the farmer approached the Viscount and he too began to check his own surroundings, but not in admiration, but as a ploy to avoid eyecontact with Arnand. "What is your name?" The man stopped about five metres away from Arnand and played with his dungeree straps.

"I-I'm Jean Geves, I'mma` farmer." He took a deep breath in order to aid his shaking. "I was hoping you could...Uh, do somethin' about the fox problem. They keep 'on bustin` in and killing some of me animals 'n' digging up my veg-e-ta-bles." He looked at the floor before uttering a few more words. "A...And I know foxes in Daenia are, er, yer` property Lord, so I ain't done nothing to 'em." Arnand sat up in his chair, deciding at least try and look as if he were interested. He rubbed his chin, feeling some of the short bristles of hair brush against his fingers. "Hm...I need a shave." After pondering something he had made his mind up about as soon as the man had finished speaking, he fixed the farmer with a stare and spoke.

"So you wish for me to allow you to kill my foxes, no?" The farmer nodded. "Because they are breaking into your farm and killing your animals and such?" Again, he nodded. "What you are telling me is that your perimeter is not secure enough. If you leave a gap, someone, or something in this case, is sure to worm their way in and wreak havoc." The farmer looked embarrassed. "Now. I will make a deal with you. I shall pay for any repairs to the fences on your farm that may have been caused by my foxes, but I will not pay for damage caused by carelessness on your behalf, nor that caused by an animal which was presented with such an opportunity that it could not pass up." The man was silent still and instead nodded. Arnand waved, and he departed from the hall. The gates shut behind him and the Viscount stood up. "That is enough for today. I have heard too many complaints about hoodlums and such for one day. Tell the rest they can speak of their 'plight' next month. I am retiring to my chambers." The guard who had opened the gates replied with an austire "Sir!" before continuing out of the gate to tell the peons.

Back in his room, Arnand sat at his desk. It was late, but he had no intention of sleeping. The cliche scene of a leader, looking at a map, with a candle flickering to his side was present. He traced his hand over United Bretony and then Daenia. He studied the lands surrounding, the nearest settlements and their sizes. Ilessan and Northmoor were to the South-West, inside the borders of Daggerfall. The Viscount had always looked up to Daggerfall. He enjoyed monarchy and all the postivies that came with it. His hand reached up and rubbed his weary eyes. The nearest large town to him inside United Bretony Ykalon, and he had never really taken much of an interest in it really, nor had his father. "If the combined forces of Northmoor and Ilessan were to attack, no, if Ilessan's forces alone were to attack...We would not win. And I doubt I would get any support from Ykalon, and all of the other cities are too far away to help, or to care." His mind was tired and began to think, to think of war and failure. "Now if I were to join with Daggerfall, I could ensure safety for Daenia perhaps." He shook his head and furrowed his brow. "It is far too late to be thinking of treason. I must sleep..."

Court of Daggerfall

"You summoned me, my liege?" A Breton kneeled before Gothryd's throne. The king looked at the man with a hidden curiosity; he seemed an ordinary noble, both in dress and manners. He had the air of a noble, too, making it all the more surprising that this was far more than another noble of the sword from some corner of Daggerfall. Of course, Gothryd knew this was the spymaster, so Haubert Vules looked different to him than the usual noble coming to ask for this or that, but the monarch doubted anyone else in the court was able to tell that. He could only commend the man for his capabilities in subterfuge.

"Ah, Haubert. Yes, I was expecting you." The king's voice sounded melancholic, however that only alerted Haubert. When Gothryd was melancholic it usually bode ill for those who made mistakes in his service, particularly when it was his spymaster in question.

"I have need for someone of... special abbilities." Gothryd continued with a much lowered voice, barely moving his lips. In a court like Daggerfall's, the king had to be adept at disguising some of his moves; the Capets tended to adapt well to this, even though it might've impacted their majestic manners somewhat in comparison with those of the kings of Wayrest. On the other hand, as Gothryd's father frequently said, it is better to appear less and be more than appear more and be less, as was, according to him, the case with the monarchs of Daggerfall's great rival. But then, people tended to be biased in such situations and Gothryd paid little heed to his father's words on the subject.

"I live to serve you, your majesty." Haubert answered, loud enough for some of the surrounding nobles to hear him. Gothryd leaned back in his chair, a hint of satisfaction crossing his face for a brief moment. This had transpired fast enough for Haubert's words to be taken for a reply to Gothryd's initial greeting by the ears that surrounded them.

"I would be most interested in hearing of your brother's exploits around the isle of Betony. I was lead to believe he succeeded in catching a fish of a quite unusual size..?" A couple of those who had been listening to the conversation turned to their business at those words. It was no secret that the king was fascinated not only by hunts but also, rather unusually, fishing, and the further into open sea the more interesting he found it. When he was particularly bored, Gothryd would sometimes invite nobles of his who had extraordinary fishing tales to share and reward them for little reason other than his mood; even if it was obvious the tales were fake. Of course, those of the listeners who were easier to trick had no way of knowing Haubert had no brother.

"Oh yes, my liege. Sadly he injured his leg quite badly and was unable to visit your majesty personally. He sends deepest appologies and hopes your majesty is not offended." Haubert picked up the act, whispering to the king in a manner not unlike the monarch's right afterwards:

"Shall I send your majesty one of my own?"

"Hm, a shame. I was wondering what had happened to him; I heard he was not heard of since and hasn't yet returned from Betony." As he spoke, Gothryd barely noticeably shook his head. "Let it be an outsider." He murmured through his teeth.

"Very well then, that would be all I wanted of you, Haubert. I was afraid our brave noble might've slipped past my glance and returned to his estate without sharing his tale with anyone. You may go."

Bowing, Haubert turned around, but not before making it out in the king's eyes that he understood the spymaster had heard and would follow that instruction. As he left the court, feeling several pairs of eyes fixed on his back - those who would've liked to hear each and every conversation the king had - he already knew just the person for the job. A couple of 'incidents' had happened in Daggerfall recently; the spymaster, being ever-informed about the going-ons in wherever it was he stayed, was able to make a connection between the two deaths and one Alarei, a somewhat infamous person as it would've seemed once one did some digging on him with the resources the spymaster of Daggerfall had at his disposal. A simple letter, placed in the right place at the right time, would do the trick. It was unlike a hired assassin would turn down a contract by the king of Daggerfall himself.

Meanwhile, watching his spymaster leave the court, Gothryd could only sigh, feeling another surge of melancholy and apathy overtake him. To be a king trapped in his own court...

OOC: I'm expecting it would've taken time to get to camlorn so I'm expectingyou'll be somewhere else in the castle so i'm just going to come to a door and you can decide where I come in to.


Camlorn, castle

Ri'skar pulled his horse up to Camlorn's castle. It had been nearly a month since he was first appointed here and yet it felt like he had been in High Rock for an eternity.

Ri'skar walked through the castles gardens. The sun shined brightly on the Nightshade that lined it, and it was beatiful sight to behold for the Khajiit. Back in Elsweyr the only plants that could be seen were the many ugly cactus's that dotted the deserts, and he never really known such beauty could be held in plants. Truly the gardens of a king.... although no king lived here.

As Ri'skar walked up he shook hands with the doorman, exchanged words and then followed him inside to see the Chancellor. He then walked up through the castle until they came to a door.

"The Chancellor's right inside." The door man said as he stepped to the side.

"Thank you very much, here's a tip." The khajiit said as stuffed a few coins into the mans pocket. Ri'skar then opened the door and stepped inside.

Castle Wayrest
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The Spymaster silently opened the black case. As he did, small beams of reflected light illuminated the bookcases. The dusty tomes, even when illuminated, only made the room appear to be lined with a drab brown. With the case opened, the Spymaster pulled out four glass vials, and placed them in a row. Pointing to each one from left to right, he said "Sarafine, while you will be able to get potions and poisons from your contact, your also being provided with two potent poisons and two healing potions. Each one has different effects."

Pointing to the leftmost vial, he said "This one will paralyze the victim, and slowly destroy any tissues exposed. The victim will feel as if they are burning, but they will be unable to do anything." Pointing to the next vial in the row, he continued "and this one is designed to deal with mages. IT will silence the mage and weaken them for roughly one minute. Finally, there are two healing potions."

The spymaster then pulled out a hooked dagger and placed it in front of the vials. "This dagger was designed for slitting throats. Consider taking it."

He then pulled out a simple brass ring with a skull etched into it. "This is what is best known as a suicide ring. Put it on, and the enchantment will immolate your body. Put it on if you are captured."

Finally, The spymaster pulled out a yellow folder. "Written instructions are provided within. Read and burn, according to standard operating procedure. Also, you should investigate the noble estates in the region. A list has been provided. Any questions?"

Wayrest: Castle Wayrest

Sarafine studied the vials in front of her. He wants me to poison my targets and have them suffer. She reflected. Sarafine pushed the vials back to the Spymaster. "I will not resort to killing my targets with poison." She said sharply, "Only cowards rely on poison. They shall die by my blade and they shall look into my eyes before they return to Arkay. Every man and woman who dies deserves to see the eyes or feel the embrace of their killer."

She then eyed the blade and picked it up gingerly and slid it from the sheath. "A fine dagger," She mused as she tested the edge and felt the weight, "This I accept." She said as she strapped the new dagger to her waist.

Next was the ring. It was something she didn't like to think about, but she knew the possibility of being captured was present. She picked it up and slid it into her pocket without saying a word.

Then Sarafine grabbed the yellow folder. "I will read it when I am away from unwanted eyes. I would have preferred to have received this from the King himself, but I suppose I can make an exception." She never liked the Spymaster. There was something about him that she didn't like. She couldn't explain it but she learned to trust her gut a long time ago.
"Now that all of this is done, I shall take my leave. Good day sir." Sarafine stood, smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt and left.

OOC: Just pretend my Archon was there the entire time, but you didn't acknowledge him okay? Also, sorry about the minor character control with getting your character to stand when I approached him.


Daric, Kambria Castle

Lord Daric sat lazily at his throne, quietly seething as he glanced out of the corner of his eye to the man sitting to his left. To most, it would seem like nothing was out of the ordinary in the brightly lit stone room, which was circular in shape, and had a high domed ceiling. The King and the man next to him sat exactly opposite of the large wooden doors on a raised dias, and exactly ninety-nine similarly dressed men sat equally divided on both sides of the room, each with their own desk and names engraved on a stone tablet in front of them. The King sat dressed in his elaborate red robes and rested on an extravagant wooden chair, with plush gold pillows to cushion the buttocks. The man next to him sat in an equally extravagant chair, slightly shorter, but no less grander and wore deep purple robes as the light shone off his bald head.

Indeed, it seemed like nothing was out of place in the room to somebody who would walk in, but if one were to study the place of the men, and knew the title of each man, than one might think there was something amiss, and it was at this that Daric fumed silently about. For he was King. Lord. Leader of Kambria and its people, and every man in the room sat below him, none equal. None except for the man next to him. The Archon, Listien Wicksley, sat equal with the King on the same level and thus he was considered equal.

His seething continued even as a guard came into the room, telling everyone that the men from the Chevalier estate (?) were only minutes away, and now Daric composed himself, looking around at the group of men that stared at the door, his eye catching that of one of the few blue robed men that he liked, Alix Ashcroft and smiled weakly.

His attention turned to the door as the group of men they had been expecting (for the King and the Assembly had been informed of their visit as soon as they entered the city) and waited as they all kneeled before the King.... and the Archon. He grimaced slightly but rose as the leader of the noble looking men, Louis, raised his head to speak.

Daric s smiled and walked forwards, tapping him on the shoulder, indicating him to stand which he did. "Of course we may talk, good sir!" he said cheerfully. He clapped his hands and spoke, "Bring some chairs, food and refreshments for Sir Louis and his men." Several young men outside of the doors ran in with chairs for each other the Knights, and small round tables were set in between the chairs with tea, wine and water as well as a plate of biscuits.

Daric had returned to his seat, not caring if the men chose to sit or not, and as he sat himself down, he went to speak but Listien cut him off.

"What business do you have here, unannounced?" he said not angrily, but rather coolly as though he was disappointed by the lack of proper etiquette.

Daric frowned but remained silent as he let Louis speak, as did every other of the ninety-nine men in the room.

Louis Chevalier, Castle Kambria

Louis stood up at the King's command. He had always liked the King more than any other in the council, which was a bit ironic one might say, do to the fact Louis least liked person was Listien. The King had sent forth the order for food and drink to be brought out. Although Louis wasn't very hungry at the moment, he considered it rude to not accept a King's bargain. Louis gave the signal for his knights to stand and they all stood, shortly after sitting down at the tables which the King had ordered to be brought forth. Louis had never really thought about exactly how many men were in the council, nor how they could agree on anything that existed. He was about to step forward and talk to the King in private, but then he heard the muttering.

"What business do you have here, unannounced?"

It was then Louis' stern face was put on as quickly as one would put on a mask. He squinted his eyebrows at the man, eying him with distaste. He payed no heed to him either, once more turning towards the King of Kambria. Louis then took the distaste off of his face, leaving the seriousness on it. His words became stern and honorable as a knight. He nodded his head at the King, then brought up the matter.

"Daric, this is a serious matter we are about to deal with, and I suggest we all talk it out in this room, now; or that you, Lord, gather your strategoes and your officers so that we may discuss this matter."

He was sure to keep his voice quiet enough to not be heard through the room. Most of the men were now talking anyway, and it was best to keep such a thing on a low-voiced level.

"Officials have reported of rebel affairs going on in Bhoriane, the city south of Koegria. Different agents of Bretony have detected some kind of report being sent to Wayrest for the King's eye. It appears the King of Wayrest won't be happy about this recent rebel movement. Also, there have been recent minor skirmishes between the nobles in Koegria. I suggest you began to prepare defensively sir. From my reports, none of this looks terribly well. If you may hold this meeting now, as this needs to be addressed."

Louis nodded his head once more, patiently waiting for a response.