The outer rim of Omege, capital of Purplexia: Phoenix and the soldiers
Nighttime came like some foul beast, looming hideously over the horizon until the sun was adequately dispelled from sight. Lurking cautiously forward, it rose as one massive blanket of cloud coverage that was destined to fully envelop and devour the world beneath it. Obscuring the stars above, it dropped an impregnable and discomforting veil of shadows over anything that lay below. Looking out, one would generally expect rain, but none came. A near deathly silence accompanied this grim twilight, a plague which seemed to have spread to almost every living being.
A full moon served as the only source of comfort this night. Peering through the single break in the perpetuating overhang, the large luminescent orb sat high atop her throne overhead, pregnant with powers beyond human comprehension; powers waiting to be distributed to its children on earth. With the beautiful Lunar Goddess casting down a brilliant spotlight of heavenly rays, Omega took center stage in a play overseen by the immortals themselves. Saturated by the divine light from above, and positioned as the epicenter in a large field, its stone walls seemed to radiate their own personal glow. Reaching an intimidating forty feet, and with a girth of ten, this mighty structure serves to represent the enduring strength of the people of Purplexia, employing a plethora of armor-clad guardians. The bane of any cynical crusader, this fortification stands strong and proud, ready to thwart any nefarious endeavors of those who would oppose the monarchy housed within. Tonight, however, the battlements were devoid of life; the towers and defense platforms sat empty. It would be here that a select few dared disrupt the ominous calm which had befallen the lands, and they moved with deadly intentions, ghosting through the darkness like phantoms, ready for the kill.
...
The halls of the castle were decorated lavishly, and possibly even overwhelmingly. Made to accommodate the whimsey of the occupants from generations ago, the ceilings were created with high arches that very much resembled a cathedral of sorts, and from which hung large chandeliers. Most were plain with only a ring of candles, while others, like the one in the foyer, utilized a collection of expensive crystals to capture and refract the light out in beautiful patterns across the marble floor. Several hand-carved oak beams served as columns along the walls, the tops of which arched out overhead in the forms of many different creatures, from dragons and lions, to hawks and bears. From these, a series of intricately designed purple banners, decorated exquisitely with golden designs of vines and leaves, as well as with hanging laces, were strung. Other expensive furnishings, such as pictures and coats of arms, adorned the walls between these wooden supports, just over the many small pedestals and stands which were set at short intervals to support beautifully tended potted plants, or busts of past nobility. The inside corners of each hall housed a single armor set, the shining steel polished to the point that one could clearly see their reflection. On either side of these silent warriors, short pillar stood guard at shoulder-height, the tops of which were concaved to form a bowl from which purple flames would continuously burn. Guards monitored these halls with a vigilance unmatched, but even they missed the smaller details every now and again, having grown far too accustomed to a tediously boring routine of pacing back and forth.
Phoenix was one of few on duty this night. In fact, he alone, along with only a platoon of the Lord's finest men, were charged with the task of receiving the guests that were expected to arrive at any moment. All others were given a single twelve hour leave; a great risk, but indeed a necessary one. Not an hour ago, Phoenix had verified the arrival of several combatants over the northern wall, seen by means of an astronomy tower at the top of the castle itself. Two guards had been placed there to stand watch, easily identifiable and traceable by the glint of their steel in the moonlight. The man had watched as both collapsed, disappearing beneath the parapets to be replaced by a series of silhouettes which rose only to strike, before diving back into the cover of the night. So far the anonymous tip had proven correct, but to what extent would it hold true? Looking into the sky, Phoenix felt as if the atmosphere was far too fitting of the situation.
The main hall was the single stretch left leading to a large set of decorative double doors. Beyond that point, only a short distance remained to be navigated before reaching the royal chambers. A small, dead-end hallway on both sides intersected the main hall at its midpoint of fifty feet, harboring a collection of rooms that were either empty, or housing an army of brooms and other less than important objects. Phoenix stood along this intersection, at the corner to ones right as they would be approaching the guarded gates. Hidden within the shadow of a support beam, the man's dark clothing allowed him to simply melt into the small alcove and disappear.
A master of concealment, Phoenix knew that movement was the key to detection. With the eyes having only a small focal point, things could easily remain hidden in plain sight, even without entirely matching their backdrop. Thusly, the peripheral vision was utilized to capture movement, and would draw attention towards anything that broke the stillness. Standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, and with his hands folded neatly behind his back, gripping a loaded crossbow, the man waited in silence for the arrival of the intruders.
Five minutes passed like five hours, and to anyone, even a master like Phoenix, it was enough to set one on edge, with tension running high. Nevertheless, the man forced himself into a sort of self-induced state of rest, one that he'd perfected that would allow his body to relax, without losing his keen senses as a hunter; he heard it a moment later.
Only the barely audible whistling foreshadowed the imminent death of the guards just down the hall. There was a pop as steel was punctured, followed by a loud crashing of armor plates against the hard floor. Without so much as a cry or plea for help, the two men fell, relieved of duty. Phoenix remained unmoving in his place, simply waiting as the footsteps advanced. The situation was a delicate one, as the infiltrators were no doubt wary of a trap in place for them due to the absence of more guards. On top of that, because this was the last boundary to be passed, their adrenaline would be running overtime, as well as their nerves. Having begun with a more subtle approach over an hour ago, the men were running out of time and had apparently dismissed their original game plan, believing that they were in now the clear. Racing against the clock, and with no knowledge as to whether or not their presence was known, now, if ever, would be the time for mistakes.
The first three passed quickly, not even bothering to glance down the hall which bisected the one they were traveling. Why? Because no doubt they had gathered enough intelligence to inform them about the frivolous adjoining path. It held nothing of importance, and lead nowhere, and thus the guards would not traverse it. Secondly, if one had a map of the plotted areas designated to each guard, they would know that this crossroads was maintained by only the two eliminated just seconds ago. Phoenix, however, wasn't a guard; mistake number one.
The last two of the group lagged behind, made up of a ranged combatant and a sweeper. If sources proved worth the money it cost to gain the information, then Phoenix was already acquainted with several of these men, and in fact knew both of the two he was about to engage. Fellow mercenaries who held no sense of morality with the missions they accepted, the man had no quarrel with dispatching them from this world. On multiple occasions he'd considered it before, but he wouldn't waste his time or effort on them unless it were necessary. The fourth passed.
Seconds turned to tedious hours in Phoenix's head as he worked through the situation. He heard the last man's approach, a mere meter behind the other, prepared himself to move, adjusted for any calculation flaws, and finally stepped around the corner. Throwing out a steel-plated left arm, Phoenix caught the fifth infiltrator hard in the bridge of his nose. A sickening crunch emanated from the cartilage and bone behind it as both splintered, followed by another gruesome crack as the man's head jerked violently back, leaving his body to continue forward. The man landed, sprawled on his back with a thud, his bow skidding onward to the feet of his subordinates.
Simultaneously, Phoenix's right arm came up, crossbow in hand. Hardly having to apply any pressure to the trigger, the man released the catch on the string and sent the deadly bolt whizzing towards its target. The fourth intruder, who had just turned to investigate what had happened behind him, collapsed next, the deadly projectile embedding itself and penetrating easily through the soft flesh of his neck. The man simply spun and rolled awkwardly onto one side, his scream turning into an incoherent, frothy gurgling as blood poured into and down his throat. A pool accumulated quickly beneath the fountain of crimson, and the man simply lay idle in it, his mouth gaping silent curses from beneath the now red-stained clothe mask, while his eyes stared ahead, a look of uncomprehending shock locked in them.
Phoenix dropped the crossbow and turned now to fully face the three remaining assassins. All of them wore the same black uniforms with thin masks and hoods; all of them returned his calm gaze with a combination of newly-found hatred, bewilderment, fear, and the intent to kill.
The Throne Room of Omega - The following morning: Alterez
A single purple carpet outlined in gold lacing cut a swath through the center of the room, from the grand mahogany doors, to the raised section of flooring where the thrones sit. On either side of this carpet, the same decorative wooden support beams found in the halls would stand, reaching up into the high-arched ceiling and rafters, nearly thirty feet above. Banners and flags hung delicately from these heights, along with a grand chandelier in the center of the room. With a diameter of six feet, and total height of ten, the ornate piece of decor was one of the many prized artifacts of the monarchy. Struck from a single vein of precious gems found at the construction site of the castle generations ago, it has adorned the throne room ever since.
The room itself expanded beyond the boundaries of the carved wooden beams. In the vacancy between these and the far walls which were governed by thick, stone columns, a series of long tables were set, covered in similar purple cloths to those that hung from the ceiling, as well as an infinite amount of silverware that would go unused. As with the rest of the castle, the throne room spared no expense in finding the rarest of luxuries. Shields and crests hung off the wooden supports, while pictures were placed in their respective positions on the walls. Guards were set in front of every stone column, next to dozens of potted plants, busts, other statues and even various weapons racks. Often though, the guards would go unnoticed, overlooked as merely another piece of interior design.
The most stunning part of the throne room, however, was the far back wall which loomed over the heads of those in power. Inset with a beautifully decorated stain-glass window that rose to a grand twenty feet, it faced the East, allowing the sunrise to cast into the castle a harmonious collection of colors which melded and blended together in order to form a detailed image of the first great war, from which Purplexia was forged. The image would be sprawled across the floor in front of the thrones in a sort of sparkling, shining wonder, projected by a heavenly might as a reminder to those enemies vanquished ages ago, and to those who would threaten the kingdom today.
Alterez always found himself enticed by this mystifying wonder. Whoever had designed it definitely had an eye for detail, and knew exactly how to harness every aspect of it. As it was now, the self-proclaimed Lord had allowed himself to fall into a daze, his mind wandering to great reaches far beyond the extent of the problems at hand. Problems which unfortunately refused to wait.
"Sire?" a man's voice called.
Alterez suddenly sat up, blinking. It took him a moment to acclimate himself back into the real world, but finally he found his voice. "[maroon]Ah, oh, yes... Right. Uh, continue,[/color]" the man said, straightening himself in his seat. The throne was made almost entirely of gold, with purple cushions and designs detailing it, as well as with a sort of cape draped over the back. His own and the Queen's were nearly identical, however his was indeed slightly taller, though neither was set in the center. Her throne sat to his immediate right, with the illusive assassin Phoenix standing to his left.
"Problem, sire?" the man asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. It was General Poliferus, a great man with a spectacular battle record. He stood with an intimidating aura and spoke with a confident, commanding tone. His face showed signs of a veteran combatant, and his deep sunken blue eye held in it a strong unwavering stare. A thin scar ran down one side of his face, passing over the other empty socket. Easily able to outsmart and outmaneuver any enemy formation, even with all odds against him, his mind was sharp, and not one to be trifled with. With such an impressive history below his belt, Alterez could overlook the inflated self-reverence the man possessed.
Alterez shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. "No no, please continue, General."
The man gave a brisk nod, folding the papers he was holding behind his back as he fell into a sort of parade-rest. "Apologies, sire, but I had just finished," said Poliferus. Alterez raised a curious eyebrow to the man, but said nothing, as if contemplating his words. "To recap, however, the matter still stands. The rebels, despite all failed attempts, are still getting support. Five of the most notorious assassins means that the support includes a great deal of sponsors. From where, we are unsure as of now, but it can b-"
"General," a man cut in. Poliferus turned to face the lead adviser, a rather plump man dressed with more decorations than the entire palace itself. Poliferus didn't need to say anything, but simply nodded for the other to speak. "It is a simple solution," the adviser continued, almost as if the words he was about to say were far too obvious for the General to realize. "Reinforce all troops in the surrounding Barons castles, and tighten security, as well as law enforcement. We'll then gather a list of anyone suspected of treason, arrest them and have them tried."
"And how do you suggest we go about compiling a list of everyone who has aligned themselves with the rebels?" Poliferus retorted evenly. "They may be numerous, but of the population, they are a small majority spread far too thin throughout the kingdom. You'd have better luck trying to to enlist yourself in basic training."
The man gave the General a rather indignant look at his comment, but then simply brushed it off, rolling his eyes. Sticking out his face and placing his hands on his hips like some toddler with a point to prove, his jowls jiggled as his shook his head. The man sighed then spoke slowly this time, the condescension in his words palpable. "General... If you enforce the laws enacting better curfews and restricting movement from people in and out of these cities, you simply look for those who would disobey... The ones who are with the rebels are the ones sneaking around at night, and moving around this or that... And please, if I wished to partake in the barbaric trade that you call a profession, I would have. That is below me, however."
"Suggesting we turn the people against us by trying to cram more laws down their throats?" Poliferus asked, somewhat astounded by the man's less than reasonable solution to the problem. "Sire?" The General turned to Alterez, looking for some input.
"Sire," another adviser broke in, "I think if we promise it is only long enough to capture these rebels, they would understand. They don't like them any more than we do, and besides, we've already got people throwing around the names of people acting suspiciously. This would only make it easier! It won't do harm if only temporary..."
"Indeed!" responded the first adviser again.
Alterez simply heaved a deep sigh and sunk back into his seat, looking bored and beyond annoyed with his cast of advisers as they then took it upon themselves to begin throwing out new laws and ways to employ and enforce them. Poliferus lost himself in attempting to point out each and every flaw, however it seemed not many were giving him support, though some were. The voices of the supposed esteemed Council were steadily rising, trying to overpower the other in an attempt to get their ideas out, all the while creating an incessant drone of indecipherable words. Alterez leaned over, putting his face in the palm of his hand while his elbow rested on the cushioned arm rest of his throne. The man was becoming extremely aggravated with the lack of intelligence within the group, as well as their inability to compromise on anything. All their ideas seemed to benefit themselves in one way or another, or simply just deteriorate the loyalty within the people to them. The man let out another exasperated sigh, finally standing.
"Meeting adjourned!" he called loudly. And with that, the man turned and strode from the room, exiting through one of the side doors. Phoenix followed several paces behind, with two guards falling into step immediately after him.
The room fell silent for a moment as everyone paused, exchanging uncertain looks or shrugs of indifference. Finally a man spoke. "Very well, we shall compile a list of new laws and regulations for the kingdom and present them to his Lordship come the assembly later today!" announced the lead adviser. There was a mixed response, but no one argued anymore, simply dispersing to go about whatever business they had to attend to.
Poliferus closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded to his men who followed him through the open double doors. In two hours the palace was expecting the arrivals of a new battalion from Ravensgard, as well as a congregation of people expecting an announcement from their Lord or Queen. Poliferus had to accept these troops and ensure the area was secure before then. He also had to send out a letter to his dear friend, Wolfe. If security and laws were tightened, that would make his tasks that much harder to accomplish. Perhaps later he'll also find a way to dispose of those mercenaries the Lord had hired. His own had failed... Wolfe needed to know everything.
Nighttime came like some foul beast, looming hideously over the horizon until the sun was adequately dispelled from sight. Lurking cautiously forward, it rose as one massive blanket of cloud coverage that was destined to fully envelop and devour the world beneath it. Obscuring the stars above, it dropped an impregnable and discomforting veil of shadows over anything that lay below. Looking out, one would generally expect rain, but none came. A near deathly silence accompanied this grim twilight, a plague which seemed to have spread to almost every living being.
A full moon served as the only source of comfort this night. Peering through the single break in the perpetuating overhang, the large luminescent orb sat high atop her throne overhead, pregnant with powers beyond human comprehension; powers waiting to be distributed to its children on earth. With the beautiful Lunar Goddess casting down a brilliant spotlight of heavenly rays, Omega took center stage in a play overseen by the immortals themselves. Saturated by the divine light from above, and positioned as the epicenter in a large field, its stone walls seemed to radiate their own personal glow. Reaching an intimidating forty feet, and with a girth of ten, this mighty structure serves to represent the enduring strength of the people of Purplexia, employing a plethora of armor-clad guardians. The bane of any cynical crusader, this fortification stands strong and proud, ready to thwart any nefarious endeavors of those who would oppose the monarchy housed within. Tonight, however, the battlements were devoid of life; the towers and defense platforms sat empty. It would be here that a select few dared disrupt the ominous calm which had befallen the lands, and they moved with deadly intentions, ghosting through the darkness like phantoms, ready for the kill.
...
The halls of the castle were decorated lavishly, and possibly even overwhelmingly. Made to accommodate the whimsey of the occupants from generations ago, the ceilings were created with high arches that very much resembled a cathedral of sorts, and from which hung large chandeliers. Most were plain with only a ring of candles, while others, like the one in the foyer, utilized a collection of expensive crystals to capture and refract the light out in beautiful patterns across the marble floor. Several hand-carved oak beams served as columns along the walls, the tops of which arched out overhead in the forms of many different creatures, from dragons and lions, to hawks and bears. From these, a series of intricately designed purple banners, decorated exquisitely with golden designs of vines and leaves, as well as with hanging laces, were strung. Other expensive furnishings, such as pictures and coats of arms, adorned the walls between these wooden supports, just over the many small pedestals and stands which were set at short intervals to support beautifully tended potted plants, or busts of past nobility. The inside corners of each hall housed a single armor set, the shining steel polished to the point that one could clearly see their reflection. On either side of these silent warriors, short pillar stood guard at shoulder-height, the tops of which were concaved to form a bowl from which purple flames would continuously burn. Guards monitored these halls with a vigilance unmatched, but even they missed the smaller details every now and again, having grown far too accustomed to a tediously boring routine of pacing back and forth.
Phoenix was one of few on duty this night. In fact, he alone, along with only a platoon of the Lord's finest men, were charged with the task of receiving the guests that were expected to arrive at any moment. All others were given a single twelve hour leave; a great risk, but indeed a necessary one. Not an hour ago, Phoenix had verified the arrival of several combatants over the northern wall, seen by means of an astronomy tower at the top of the castle itself. Two guards had been placed there to stand watch, easily identifiable and traceable by the glint of their steel in the moonlight. The man had watched as both collapsed, disappearing beneath the parapets to be replaced by a series of silhouettes which rose only to strike, before diving back into the cover of the night. So far the anonymous tip had proven correct, but to what extent would it hold true? Looking into the sky, Phoenix felt as if the atmosphere was far too fitting of the situation.
The main hall was the single stretch left leading to a large set of decorative double doors. Beyond that point, only a short distance remained to be navigated before reaching the royal chambers. A small, dead-end hallway on both sides intersected the main hall at its midpoint of fifty feet, harboring a collection of rooms that were either empty, or housing an army of brooms and other less than important objects. Phoenix stood along this intersection, at the corner to ones right as they would be approaching the guarded gates. Hidden within the shadow of a support beam, the man's dark clothing allowed him to simply melt into the small alcove and disappear.
A master of concealment, Phoenix knew that movement was the key to detection. With the eyes having only a small focal point, things could easily remain hidden in plain sight, even without entirely matching their backdrop. Thusly, the peripheral vision was utilized to capture movement, and would draw attention towards anything that broke the stillness. Standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, and with his hands folded neatly behind his back, gripping a loaded crossbow, the man waited in silence for the arrival of the intruders.
Five minutes passed like five hours, and to anyone, even a master like Phoenix, it was enough to set one on edge, with tension running high. Nevertheless, the man forced himself into a sort of self-induced state of rest, one that he'd perfected that would allow his body to relax, without losing his keen senses as a hunter; he heard it a moment later.
Only the barely audible whistling foreshadowed the imminent death of the guards just down the hall. There was a pop as steel was punctured, followed by a loud crashing of armor plates against the hard floor. Without so much as a cry or plea for help, the two men fell, relieved of duty. Phoenix remained unmoving in his place, simply waiting as the footsteps advanced. The situation was a delicate one, as the infiltrators were no doubt wary of a trap in place for them due to the absence of more guards. On top of that, because this was the last boundary to be passed, their adrenaline would be running overtime, as well as their nerves. Having begun with a more subtle approach over an hour ago, the men were running out of time and had apparently dismissed their original game plan, believing that they were in now the clear. Racing against the clock, and with no knowledge as to whether or not their presence was known, now, if ever, would be the time for mistakes.
The first three passed quickly, not even bothering to glance down the hall which bisected the one they were traveling. Why? Because no doubt they had gathered enough intelligence to inform them about the frivolous adjoining path. It held nothing of importance, and lead nowhere, and thus the guards would not traverse it. Secondly, if one had a map of the plotted areas designated to each guard, they would know that this crossroads was maintained by only the two eliminated just seconds ago. Phoenix, however, wasn't a guard; mistake number one.
The last two of the group lagged behind, made up of a ranged combatant and a sweeper. If sources proved worth the money it cost to gain the information, then Phoenix was already acquainted with several of these men, and in fact knew both of the two he was about to engage. Fellow mercenaries who held no sense of morality with the missions they accepted, the man had no quarrel with dispatching them from this world. On multiple occasions he'd considered it before, but he wouldn't waste his time or effort on them unless it were necessary. The fourth passed.
Seconds turned to tedious hours in Phoenix's head as he worked through the situation. He heard the last man's approach, a mere meter behind the other, prepared himself to move, adjusted for any calculation flaws, and finally stepped around the corner. Throwing out a steel-plated left arm, Phoenix caught the fifth infiltrator hard in the bridge of his nose. A sickening crunch emanated from the cartilage and bone behind it as both splintered, followed by another gruesome crack as the man's head jerked violently back, leaving his body to continue forward. The man landed, sprawled on his back with a thud, his bow skidding onward to the feet of his subordinates.
Simultaneously, Phoenix's right arm came up, crossbow in hand. Hardly having to apply any pressure to the trigger, the man released the catch on the string and sent the deadly bolt whizzing towards its target. The fourth intruder, who had just turned to investigate what had happened behind him, collapsed next, the deadly projectile embedding itself and penetrating easily through the soft flesh of his neck. The man simply spun and rolled awkwardly onto one side, his scream turning into an incoherent, frothy gurgling as blood poured into and down his throat. A pool accumulated quickly beneath the fountain of crimson, and the man simply lay idle in it, his mouth gaping silent curses from beneath the now red-stained clothe mask, while his eyes stared ahead, a look of uncomprehending shock locked in them.
Phoenix dropped the crossbow and turned now to fully face the three remaining assassins. All of them wore the same black uniforms with thin masks and hoods; all of them returned his calm gaze with a combination of newly-found hatred, bewilderment, fear, and the intent to kill.
The Throne Room of Omega - The following morning: Alterez
A single purple carpet outlined in gold lacing cut a swath through the center of the room, from the grand mahogany doors, to the raised section of flooring where the thrones sit. On either side of this carpet, the same decorative wooden support beams found in the halls would stand, reaching up into the high-arched ceiling and rafters, nearly thirty feet above. Banners and flags hung delicately from these heights, along with a grand chandelier in the center of the room. With a diameter of six feet, and total height of ten, the ornate piece of decor was one of the many prized artifacts of the monarchy. Struck from a single vein of precious gems found at the construction site of the castle generations ago, it has adorned the throne room ever since.
The room itself expanded beyond the boundaries of the carved wooden beams. In the vacancy between these and the far walls which were governed by thick, stone columns, a series of long tables were set, covered in similar purple cloths to those that hung from the ceiling, as well as an infinite amount of silverware that would go unused. As with the rest of the castle, the throne room spared no expense in finding the rarest of luxuries. Shields and crests hung off the wooden supports, while pictures were placed in their respective positions on the walls. Guards were set in front of every stone column, next to dozens of potted plants, busts, other statues and even various weapons racks. Often though, the guards would go unnoticed, overlooked as merely another piece of interior design.
The most stunning part of the throne room, however, was the far back wall which loomed over the heads of those in power. Inset with a beautifully decorated stain-glass window that rose to a grand twenty feet, it faced the East, allowing the sunrise to cast into the castle a harmonious collection of colors which melded and blended together in order to form a detailed image of the first great war, from which Purplexia was forged. The image would be sprawled across the floor in front of the thrones in a sort of sparkling, shining wonder, projected by a heavenly might as a reminder to those enemies vanquished ages ago, and to those who would threaten the kingdom today.
Alterez always found himself enticed by this mystifying wonder. Whoever had designed it definitely had an eye for detail, and knew exactly how to harness every aspect of it. As it was now, the self-proclaimed Lord had allowed himself to fall into a daze, his mind wandering to great reaches far beyond the extent of the problems at hand. Problems which unfortunately refused to wait.
"Sire?" a man's voice called.
Alterez suddenly sat up, blinking. It took him a moment to acclimate himself back into the real world, but finally he found his voice. "[maroon]Ah, oh, yes... Right. Uh, continue,[/color]" the man said, straightening himself in his seat. The throne was made almost entirely of gold, with purple cushions and designs detailing it, as well as with a sort of cape draped over the back. His own and the Queen's were nearly identical, however his was indeed slightly taller, though neither was set in the center. Her throne sat to his immediate right, with the illusive assassin Phoenix standing to his left.
"Problem, sire?" the man asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. It was General Poliferus, a great man with a spectacular battle record. He stood with an intimidating aura and spoke with a confident, commanding tone. His face showed signs of a veteran combatant, and his deep sunken blue eye held in it a strong unwavering stare. A thin scar ran down one side of his face, passing over the other empty socket. Easily able to outsmart and outmaneuver any enemy formation, even with all odds against him, his mind was sharp, and not one to be trifled with. With such an impressive history below his belt, Alterez could overlook the inflated self-reverence the man possessed.
Alterez shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. "No no, please continue, General."
The man gave a brisk nod, folding the papers he was holding behind his back as he fell into a sort of parade-rest. "Apologies, sire, but I had just finished," said Poliferus. Alterez raised a curious eyebrow to the man, but said nothing, as if contemplating his words. "To recap, however, the matter still stands. The rebels, despite all failed attempts, are still getting support. Five of the most notorious assassins means that the support includes a great deal of sponsors. From where, we are unsure as of now, but it can b-"
"General," a man cut in. Poliferus turned to face the lead adviser, a rather plump man dressed with more decorations than the entire palace itself. Poliferus didn't need to say anything, but simply nodded for the other to speak. "It is a simple solution," the adviser continued, almost as if the words he was about to say were far too obvious for the General to realize. "Reinforce all troops in the surrounding Barons castles, and tighten security, as well as law enforcement. We'll then gather a list of anyone suspected of treason, arrest them and have them tried."
"And how do you suggest we go about compiling a list of everyone who has aligned themselves with the rebels?" Poliferus retorted evenly. "They may be numerous, but of the population, they are a small majority spread far too thin throughout the kingdom. You'd have better luck trying to to enlist yourself in basic training."
The man gave the General a rather indignant look at his comment, but then simply brushed it off, rolling his eyes. Sticking out his face and placing his hands on his hips like some toddler with a point to prove, his jowls jiggled as his shook his head. The man sighed then spoke slowly this time, the condescension in his words palpable. "General... If you enforce the laws enacting better curfews and restricting movement from people in and out of these cities, you simply look for those who would disobey... The ones who are with the rebels are the ones sneaking around at night, and moving around this or that... And please, if I wished to partake in the barbaric trade that you call a profession, I would have. That is below me, however."
"Suggesting we turn the people against us by trying to cram more laws down their throats?" Poliferus asked, somewhat astounded by the man's less than reasonable solution to the problem. "Sire?" The General turned to Alterez, looking for some input.
"Sire," another adviser broke in, "I think if we promise it is only long enough to capture these rebels, they would understand. They don't like them any more than we do, and besides, we've already got people throwing around the names of people acting suspiciously. This would only make it easier! It won't do harm if only temporary..."
"Indeed!" responded the first adviser again.
Alterez simply heaved a deep sigh and sunk back into his seat, looking bored and beyond annoyed with his cast of advisers as they then took it upon themselves to begin throwing out new laws and ways to employ and enforce them. Poliferus lost himself in attempting to point out each and every flaw, however it seemed not many were giving him support, though some were. The voices of the supposed esteemed Council were steadily rising, trying to overpower the other in an attempt to get their ideas out, all the while creating an incessant drone of indecipherable words. Alterez leaned over, putting his face in the palm of his hand while his elbow rested on the cushioned arm rest of his throne. The man was becoming extremely aggravated with the lack of intelligence within the group, as well as their inability to compromise on anything. All their ideas seemed to benefit themselves in one way or another, or simply just deteriorate the loyalty within the people to them. The man let out another exasperated sigh, finally standing.
"Meeting adjourned!" he called loudly. And with that, the man turned and strode from the room, exiting through one of the side doors. Phoenix followed several paces behind, with two guards falling into step immediately after him.
The room fell silent for a moment as everyone paused, exchanging uncertain looks or shrugs of indifference. Finally a man spoke. "Very well, we shall compile a list of new laws and regulations for the kingdom and present them to his Lordship come the assembly later today!" announced the lead adviser. There was a mixed response, but no one argued anymore, simply dispersing to go about whatever business they had to attend to.
Poliferus closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded to his men who followed him through the open double doors. In two hours the palace was expecting the arrivals of a new battalion from Ravensgard, as well as a congregation of people expecting an announcement from their Lord or Queen. Poliferus had to accept these troops and ensure the area was secure before then. He also had to send out a letter to his dear friend, Wolfe. If security and laws were tightened, that would make his tasks that much harder to accomplish. Perhaps later he'll also find a way to dispose of those mercenaries the Lord had hired. His own had failed... Wolfe needed to know everything.