Our World

While Baelish pressed the issue of cost and Hightower pressed the issue of security Robert grew increasingly frustrated. If it wasn't for Stannis he may have struck one of his councilors, if not both of them. Robert had only his wine to soothe him and his brother to placate him and even that meager solace was wearing thin. Despite the difficulties and constant bouts of shouting the meeting was nearing an end. All parties seemed satisfied and the tourney would go on as scheduled, with no interruptions or delays. The break of council couldn't come a moment sooner for King Robert who was near to hurl the lot of them through the window. Baelish left first, gathering up his account books and scrolls and bowing to the king before making his exit.

Robert downed his last cup of wine to calm his nerves before getting to his feet. No sooner was he on his feet was another member of his council making his way into the chamber at a mind numbingly slow place.

"Gods... What is it now?"

Robert asked, the frustration evident in his growling voice as he plopped himself back in his seat. Grand Maester Pycelle was still in the doorway as he began to mumble out his greetings to the king and to announce the reason for which he had come.

"Apologies, Your Grace, to disturb you so soon after the closing of council. I had only just arrived after the long walk from the rookery with this correspondence and my old bones are not what they once were. Why I remember when I was a boy that I could-"

"Gods be good, Stannis, take the damned note before I kill somebody."

Robert said as he slammed his fist down on the table while his patience danced on the edge of a knife. Stannis crossed the room quickly, his booted feet echoing off the quiet in the chamber now. He took the tiny scroll from the Grand Maester with an irritation that showed his patience was thinning as well. He read it quickly before turning to his brother.

"Queen Tenanye of Anansai is on her way Your Grace. Should be here soon. She makes some mention of forging a friendship with the South Pacific. Sounds like she wants something but what, I cannot say."

Robert grunted and got back to his feet.

"Doesn't everybody?.... Well fine then let her come. I'll greet her myself when she arrives. Now no more damn you all, no more. I'm going to enjoy the rest of my day in peace or by any gods listening someone will die today."

"Y-your Grace."

The chamber filled with a tense silence as they all turned to look at the king's squire standing in the doorway. The look he received from Rober Baratheon could have broken bone. Lancel Casterly seemed keen on pissing himself.

"Speak..."

The King snarled dangerously. Lancel swallowed hard before stuttering out his fearful response.

"K-King Deacon Lesseth has arrived, Y-Your Grace."

Robert stared at him blankly.

"Who?"

"The Fuarian ruler from the arctic lands."

Stannis answered for him, looking none too pleased with the news of the new arrival. Recollection struck Robert and his face contorted as if he smelled something foul.

"Who invited those bloody savages?"

Robert asked to the chamber as a whole but received no response which only seemed to irk the King further.

"Fuck all, let's go meet this savage king then."

The King barked in anger as he began to stomp towards the door.

"Not alone your not."

Stannis said suddenly, his voice cracking like a whip. Robert paused and turned to his brother incredulously.

"The Fuarians are little better than wildlings and this Deacon is said to be little more than a brute. Lord Commander, assemble the Kingsguard in force and escort the king personally. I will round up an appropriate number of Gold Cloaks to line the throne room to ensure the barbarians remain civil during their meeting with His Grace."

Lord Commander Hightower nodded obediently and was off to do as he was ordered.

When Deacon Lesseth was finally led into the throne room he found The King seated on his infamous iron throne, his Lord brother standing at his side with all seven of the legendary knights of the Kings Guard positioned around the base of the throne and members of the city guards Gold Cloaks positioned at regular intervals between each column in the chamber with spear in hand. An impressive show of strength to be sure and one to give any would be warrior pause.

While his uncle set to meet with kings from the frozen north Orys Baratheon walked the garden of the Red Keep with his other uncle Renly Baratheon. The two had been discussing the state of the realm and the capitol city for over an hour now and each truth Orys learned seemed to trouble him more.

"Surely this cannot be so uncle."

Orys said in disbelief. Renly only sighed with a shrug as they passed by a hedge wall of roses.

"If only it were not. Robert has not had a steady Hand since Eddard Stark."

"But without a hand everything will go to pieces."

Orys stated.

"Of that I am well aware nephew yet does Robert care? Little if at all. He's been appointing new Hands and consequently dismissing them as fast as you change your trousers. I think every member of the council has served once, none for more than a few days. Cersei was Hand once but she didn't last till nightfall. I was chosen twice. Your father was even appointed once."

"When was this? I don't remember my father becoming Hand of the King."

To that Renly chuckled.

"Ah that is because, dearest nephew, that your uncle Robert changed his mind before the raven was sent off to Storm's End."

Renly paused to give a chivalrous bow to one of the noble ladies that so seemed to populate the garden like butterflies in a meadow.

"Robert drinks more than he should, shouts more than he needs and has lost all semblance of patience.'

"But why?"

Orys asked, cutting to the heart of it.

"He's restless. This is how it was before the Last War. Fortunately last time however Amelia Stormborn arrived with her big beautiful eyes and her dragons and her war and she gave Robert something to sink his teeth into. Now all the enemies are dead or too weak to threaten him. That's why this tourney of his has struck everyone as so strange. It was the first liveliness we've seen out of the man in months. I don't know what Robert has planned but whatever it is I can assure you this Orys, we'll not soon forget it."

"Are you really leaving. Tenanye-sama?" said almond-eyed girl, wth teal grey eyes.

Tenanye smiled down at her, smoothed down her hair. "I'm sorry, Chiyo, I have to go." Tenanye crouched down, Nanji shifting some on her shoulder.
"I'm going to try to make some friends. I'll return as soon as I can, I promise."

Chiyo nodded but looked sad. "Chiyo..."

"It's just that, the last time you left...."

Tenanye pulled the girl into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "We have Anansi on our side, she'll protect you, she'll watch after all of us."

"But you are Anansi." Chiyo said and Tenanye sighed. Most people revered her as a Goddess, due to her abilities but she never felt she was one. She felt unbelievably human.

"I am not Anansi, Chiyo, I am just me." She said, but she no longer knew who that was.

Chiyo smiled thinnly and Tenanye rose. "I have to go now, Chiyo, I will return as soon as I can, I will bring you something back." She said and Chiyo grinned widely, revealing a few missing baby teeth.

Tenanye smiled, gave the girl a kiss to her forehead and made her way toward the convoy that would take her and her Advisor Qi, to South Pacific.

Tenanye didn't know why but she felt a stillness in the air, like right before a violent storm...

---

The rain had been falling for a few days now only having become worse as it had continued. She could remember when it started, the fine mist that had hung in the air and whipped around her forge, coating her skin and hair as she worked. At first she had simply thought it was her own sweat from the heat, but the wind had been howling and crying out above all else. Now the stormgale had begun to sound like thunder beating against them day after day. Rumour had spoken that the gods were angry, seeking retribution for some slight but none could think what that could be. Though the village elders said it was a warning but beyond that there was little to be done and she didn’t have the time to find out.

“I thought I made myself clear earlier, I’m leaving today. I have too."

“This is a ill omen, girl. You can’t ignore the signs, something bad this way comes. It has stirred up the fury of the storm and it calls out to us.”

“I know Aramis, I know. But my Father has given me a task and I can no more ignore that than you can ignore the signs.”

The old man smiled wearily at her and shook his head.

“Aye lass but this will not end well. I can assure you of that, even if our land is in danger from the south whatever it is that this omen foretells will not be pretty.”

She nodded and turned towards rolling clouds to the east and faint light of the sun starting to ascend. The sky behind the black of the storm was barely visible and a pale crimson, which reflected through the rain to cause a faint rainbow in the morning twilight.

“I must go or our people will be in more danger. The clans can hold the south only so long. My plans to travel north in order to seek to reaffirm the allegiances of the northern wastes seem to be mute at this point as word reached me that their leader Deacon Lesseth has travelled to the far south west of the world in order to meet another leader. I don’t know much about Orys but I know my father secured trade routes with his kingdom several years back.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and tilted her head back, her body relaxing as the rain trickled down her face. A smile crept across her features while her hands hung limply at her sides, and a look of bliss was faintly visible before her eyes opened again and she turned back to Aramis.

“My father decided to change his plans for a meeting with the north when he learned that without their leader such a course would server little purpose, so I’m going to see what I can do to arrange one myself elsewhere if needs be. Even if it means travelling to the far lands. While I am away I want you to watch over the foundries of Amath and ensure our men and women have the weapons they will surely need. Send word to my father that I’ve left today on his request.”

The elder bowed to her before walking towards the other end of the village, his face twisted in worry as the air of storm began to have a faint tang of power that he could feel in his very bones. He knew the girl was capable but whatever it was that was coming he wondered if she was capable enough.

---

Malakai and Torian were sat at the edge of the village, their weapons leaning against the table they’d set up next to the nearby wagon, just about sheltered by its covering. The two were playing the bones, with coin at stake and several others were gathering round to add their interest to the roll. The dice came down and Torian's face became even stonier as Malakai’s broke into a massive grin.

“I win brother, again.” The younger of them said, slapping his leather gloved hand down onto the plate of Torian’s shoulder guard. The only response he got was for his brother to simply place a handful of coins into the pot and cup his dice in his rough worn hands.

“A glutton for punishment you are.” Malakai laughed and smiled at his rather dour sibling.

A sound behind them made them turn to see their sister marching towards them in full armour with a small troupe of six huskarls, elite warriors in full plate armed with their long swords and round shield strapped to their back. Held between them was an ornately bound chest, covered in runes and sigils that glowed faintly in the morning light.

“Hail sister.” Spoke Torian in a calm, deadpan voice as he respectfully inclined his head. “Where do we head?”

“We’re going to arrange a meeting to ensure that if the south dares to turn against us again, like they are with the Spider Queens followers to the east we have support. We can keep those dark creatures at bay when they venture into our lands but I’d much rather they were not there at all and my father knows we can’t destroy them alone, so he seeks new allies and to reaffirm old ones. We leave as soon as we can.”

---

Within the hour the carts had been loaded up and in total around fifty warriors of the Weyland clan marched from their homestead towards the west of Azernost, beyond the great monument of Labrador. It took them almost two weeks to travel across their nation before they set sail from the other side down with several of the trading vessels that made its way towards this far reaching kingdom. Karina spent much of the journey aboard the ships upper deck, getting her hands dirty as she pitched in during the rough weather which seemed to be worsening and given more credence to Aramis’ warning of ill omens. But that didn’t stop her climbing the rigging in order to feel the rush of freedom that the endless ocean granted her. Though she much preferred the control of her forge sometimes she enjoyed this, and could well understand why her younger sister never left it.
Hopefully this journey wouldn’t prove to be a unwise choice since she was already far too committed to it by now, however she felt secure in the knowledge that the clans would hold the wall and rebuke any intruders, mortal or no. She smiled as she felt the winds of the storm shift, blowing straight towards their destination.

“It would seem that Taranis is with us!! Onwards!” She cried out into the gale, laughing with exhilaration .

The talk with Renly had left Orys feeling unsettled. The knight had never seen his uncle as anything but strong. Perhaps a little careless and slothful but strong, stronger than any man he knew. The knowledge that he was so weak of character as to allow his country and duty as king to come as a second priority to his desires caused storm clouds to rumble within Orys' heart. It angered him, should his uncle have been anyone else he would have told him to stop this foolishness and due his duty. The whole business frustrated Orys. A whole city full of people and none dared to tell his uncle the truth. They bowed to the king, knelt to the king, said "thank you, Your Grace", "will there be anything else, Your Grace" but did any of them serve him faithfully enough to tell him the bloody truth? No. Not a one of them, the cowards. Too fearful to lose their position in that damned game of theirs. The politicians in the capitol talked about the governing of the realm as if it was a chess match that everyone was engaged in at the same time. A pawn move here and whispers are told. A knight move there and somebody dies. The King moves and the realm bleeds.

Orys sighed with something of a frustrated growl as he ran his hands through his hair. It was then that he realized where his walk had taken him. A serene smile began to show on the knights face as he looked out onto the tourney grounds. Here things were simple, this was his game, and the only he wished to play. Orys walked the sea of pavilions some made of cloth and others of silk but all beautiful in their own way. Each tent was erected to display the standard and colors of it's owners respective house. The notable great houses were in attendance in force of course but there were so many others. The Twin Towers of Frey and the Black Bat of Whent were there as well was the Silver trout of Tully on their blue and red striped field. Orys spotted the White Sunburst of House Karstark and the Hounds of House Clegane. House Dustin and House Tarly, House Arryn and House Santagar. Too many to count. It seemed like all the realm showed up and all their colors soared in the wind turning the tourney field into a sea of color.

Orys felt alive here, alive and free. His cares drifted away and life was simple. No worries or doubts, the fears for his uncle the king, the worries of his father, the duty and responsibilities of being a lordling vanished like smoke. Here he needed a strong horse, a sturdy lance and the courage he bore to win the day. Feeling at ease Orys reached his own pavilion, a relatively large tent in comparison to some of the others given his status as a member of the royal family. His was a strong canvas of that rich yellow that so often was mistaken for gold of the House Baratheon. On the top of the tent, above the entrance was painted the black stag of his house. Just outside of his tent was his massive black destrier that he would ride on the morrow. Hair black as night with a fiery temper it was a fitting mount for the future lord of Storm's End. Orys approached the beast while one of his squires was giving it a brush down. Orys nodded at the boy to continue his work before he caressed the war horses muzzle. The horse seemed to enjoy the touch and nuzzled closer for more praise. Smiling Orys complied and gave the thick, heavily muscled neck a good pat before leaving the squire to his work. Orys entered his tent to relax a bit before his uncle sent someone to fetch him for supper.

It didn't take long for King Roberts summons. Deacon and his men were led to the castle, were Deacon instructed everyone besides Leon and Syrus to stay outside. Deacon and Leon would go see the king, and Syrus would go down to the Black Cells to begin the first step in their plan. Deacon and Leon were led into the heavily armed throne room. It was obvious the southerners expected little manners and civility from the Fuarian's. The Fuarian's were not seen in this part of the world for centuries, and the image of them have just gotten worse over the years. The first time since they left Fuaria King Deacon had a smile on his face, it was crucial that Deacon showed a sign of friendship. Deacon and Leon approached the king and both bowed. "Your Grace." Deacon smiled at King Robert. "Firstly I must apologize. When I heard of your tournament I seized the opportunity to come and talk to you personally. Fuarian's have stayed far from the south for centuries, but I assure you we are not as barbaric as we may seem. We come as friends not enemies." Deacon glanced at the heavily armed man around the throne room.

"As a sign of my friendship I have a gift for you, your race." Deacon nodded at Leon and Leon nodded in return. Leon reached into his satchel and pulled out a golden goblet wrapped in cloth. "This your Grace, is an ancient Fuarian goblet, for you to use as you see fit." Deacon smiled a somewhat sinister smile as Leon approached King Robert and bowed. "And again my utmost apologies for coming uninvited, but I do believe we both have a lot to benefit from a mutual friendship." Deacon didn't want to sound misleading, he wouldn't make alliances that he could somehow break, but in his mind the fate of this Southern Kingdom remained undecided.

---

Syrus knew the way around the castle, his spies gave most accurate reports. He made his way down to the Black Cells, telling the guards he is on important business from the King of Fuaria who is currently meeting with the king. Syrus made his way down the hall and approached the cell of the Crimson Lady. Somehow, locked in a cage like an animal she didn't seem as frightening as the stories tell, but Syrus knew otherwise. Before being captured she herself took over Fuarian merchant ships it seemed unlikely that a cage can hold her for long. "Captain Sheva." Syrus said to capture her attention. "My name is Syrus Feraldi, an adviser to King Deacon of Fuaria, and Commander of his secret battalion." Syrus didn't talk a lot, but he was smart and scary in his own way. He wasn't called the Shadow for nothing. His Shadow Crawlers, could appear from nowhere, if King Deacon wanted someone dead, that person would surely die by the hands of the Shadow. In Fuaria he was the second most feared person after King Deacon himself. "This may sound odd my dear, but I am here to help you. Fuaria comes to you as an ally with a certain offer we have to give. Firstly, you must know that whether you choose to take or deny King Deacons offer, we are willing to help you escape in any way possible. Along with completely erasing the Fuarian bounty on your head."

Sitting up on her small dingy bed, a leg crossed over the other, The Crimson Lady sat staring at the peach. She didn't know whether or not she should eat it. It meant too much...

As she gazed down at the fruit, a memory crossed her mind.

"You aren't going to hurt me, are you, Ser?" asked a young, half frozen Robyn, a grey cloak drapped over her tiny shoulders and an old man, soaking in the rain kneeled down at her. "I'm not going to hurt you, lass and I am no Ser. Same as any other."


Robyn blinked back to the present. He always believed himself a normal man but he was never that, not to her. She knew what men were capable of, no he was not a man, same ans any other....He was much more.


"Captian Sheva."A voice called out. She turned her head slowly, a blank uncaring expression on her tear streaked face. "My name is Syrus Feraldi, an adviser to King Deacon of Fuaria and Commander of his secret battalion." Robyn arched an eyebrow. "And I am to care because...?" Her voice trailing off.

"This may sound odd my dear, but I am here to help you. Fuaria comes to you as an ally with a certain offer we have to give. Firstly, you must know that whether you choose to take or deny King Deacon's offer, we are willing to help you escape in any way possible. Along with completely erasing the Fuarian bounty on your head."

The Crimson Lady snorted a laugh. "I can escape this place without your assistance." She said plainly, her eyes falling on the uneaten peach. She knew why she hadn't escaped yet, no one kept the Crimson Lady for too long, this was the longest she had been in captivity, but she was waiting for Davos to answer her question, she supposed he had now. She had one more question for him and then she was gone.


She looked at Syrus, " and you should realize by now, I have bounties on my head in atleast 70 different countries, nations and or city-states. I tend not to take them seriously." She said with a wicked smirk as she rose from her bed, walked over to he bars and hung her arms between them. "So unless your King has some other incentive, you best be on your way..." She said, he4 hands hanging outside of the cell, close enough that if she wanted to she could do some serious damage to the man.

"Well, Robert was the same as always," Cyrus commented with an ironic grin on his old face as Moloch, himself, and Eirene acquainted themselves with their new quarters. The older king had been generous in giving Moloch and his party a whole wing to themselves. Even with the knights, pages, and guards that would be living in this wing of the palace with them, there would still be plenty of room.

"Is it me or has he gotten fatter?" Eirne asked. Cyrus only shrugged.

"We all have our vices. I have a feeling that he can still raise his hammer."

"Oh, there's no doubt about that. However, it is his skills off the battlefield that trouble me," Moloch mused. He stepped towards his suite's window, which allowed him a magnificient view of the city. King's Landing lacked the magnificient white stone and the ordliness of Drake City's buildings and streets, but it had a charm all its own, "Did you notice the gazes of the nobility as we walked in and Robert's manner? There are many plots within this city and a king who can no longer bring himself to care."

"Doubtless, Cersei has her fair share of plots," Eirene noted in distaste. Moloch hummed in agreement.

"Still, it makes things easier for us. Cyrus? Can you contact our mutual friend?"

"But of course, your majesty. We cannot have you palling around with that sort where someone might see you," the old magi commented dryly as he left the room. Eirene raised an eyebrow.

"What are you planning, Moloch?"

"Our navy is small and the mercenaries we made use of in the last war are becoming arrogant. Who better to bring a pirate fleet in line than another pirate?"

***

When the average person thought of magic, they thought of thunderbolts, wind, and flame, but there were many other abilities a magician could master. Cyrus over the course of his many adventures had learned to walk unseen by human eyes. This, of course, did not stop him from being heard or smelled and even the most inept guard could notice a door opening by itself. Thus, Cyrus contented himself with following guards until he found himself in the dungeons. He was rather fortunate to find a man heading towards the same cell as himself. He smiled at the irony.

"Captian Sheva. My name is Syrus Feraldi, an adviser to King Deacon of Fuaria and Commander of his secret battalion.This may sound odd my dear, but I am here to help you. Fuaria comes to you as an ally with a certain offer we have to give. Firstly, you must know that whether you choose to take or deny King Deacon's offer, we are willing to help you escape in any way possible. Along with completely erasing the Fuarian bounty on your head."

The Crimson Lady snorted a laugh. "I can escape this place without your assistance."

" and you should realize by now, I have bounties on my head in atleast 70 different countries, nations and or city-states. I tend not to take them seriously."

"Oh, good. A bidding war. I haven't been in once since arriving at this city of Robert Baratheon's," Cyrus announced brightly, appearing beside the man who had spoken, "I happen to be named Cyrus myself and my lord can offer far more than King Deacon is able to. Besides the gold, there is your pick of a ship, a fleet of like-minded individuals such as yourself, and a port which would allow you to sell your ill-gotten goods provided that you remain... Discreet. After all, its generally bad business for both the pirate and her patron for the enemy to find out where said port is."

***

After a rather heated discussion with his Captain of the Guard regarding the untrustworthiness of pirates, Moloch had decided he could use a walk. Thus, he made his way through the castle and out onto the tourney grounds. As luck would have it, he spotted his old friend, Orys, and made his way to his tent, a couple of his guards following him. Sure enough, Orys' own guards stopped him at the entrance. Moloch smiled slightly.

"Is Prince Orys availabe or is he frequenting a paramour that I should know about," Moloch asked, making sure his voice carried into the tent so his friend could hear.

"Oh, good a bidding war.I haven't been in one since arriving at this city of Robert Baratheon's. Said a man appearing beside Syrus. Robyn sighed impatiently.
"And who might you be?" She asked somewhat exasperated. Most men wouldn't even look in her direction let alone seek audience with her. She was really beginning to hate this prison.

"I happened to be named Cryus myself, and my lord can offer far more than King Deacpn is able to, Besides the gold, there is your pick of a ship, a fleet of like-minded individuals such as yourself and a port of which would allow you to sell your ill-gotten goods provided that you remain....Discreet. After all, its generally bad business for both the pirate and her patron for the enemy to find out where the port is."

Robyn shook her head.

"You have got to be kidding me." She said with a humorless laugh. "I have not been this popular since my days in the brothel." She said and looked up at both men. "My days at the brothel also taught me that men are only offer gifts when they want something. You two seem to want something similar, ironically." She said and sighed.

"Now, what, Dare I ask, is it that you two want in return."

Syrus and Deacon had a plan, all along they had a plan. They had never planned to come to this prison announcing their plans, there are always ears in the shadows, Syrus knew that much. He also knew who this man was, since the initiation of the Shadow Crawlers, Syrus had sent out dozens of spies to every country on the globe. Many people of interest were now under his radar. This 'Cyrus' was surly one of them. Syrus chuckled to himself. "Bidding war? I am afraid I am not here to buy a free woman, or threaten her for that matter. What you offer, lord Cyrus, is merely a speckle of dust of what King Deacon has in store. But perhaps the captain is right, Your king and mine may have similar interests. I will speak to King Deacon." It was likely that both Kings shared common goals, and an alliance to King Deacon's benefit will be more than welcome. The Fuarian's aren't ones to break promises. Syrus and Leon knew what their master desired, and they were both trusted enough to make smart decisions. "My business here is concluded" Syrus smiled and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a sealed envelope with a Fuarian seal. "What I want in return, Captain Sheva, is your friendship." Syrus smiled and handed Sheva the note through the bars. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance Cyrus. I am most certain we will be seeing each other again." With that Syrus bowed and walked towards the stairs. He stopped and turned his head slightly. "As for the bounty you have in other countries is concerned, I am sure none of that will matter. After all, even kings and queens are sensible people." Syrus gave another sinister smile and made his way out the door.

the note:
"Captain Sheva, you must excuse the privacy of this matter. The shadow's lurk with wondering eyes and ears. It is likely that our conversation has gotten your attention, if here are direction's on how to find me and conclude the conversation in a more suitable manner. There are many secrets that King Deacon and I are more than willing to share with you. I will be awaiting at the inn well after midnight. On the off chance you are not interested, It was a pleasure meeting the Crimson Lady.

"Bidding war? I am afriad I am not here to buy a free woman, or threaten her for that matter. What you offer, lord Cyrus, is merely a speckle of dust of what King Deacon has in store. But perhaps the captain is right. Your king and mine may have similar interests. I will speak to King Deacon." Syrus spoke and his words were chosen well, that was for certain, it had piqued her interest a little more then she'd anticipated.

"My business here is concluded." He said and reach in his pocket for something. "What I want in return, Captain Sheva, is your friendship." He said smiling as he handed her a note.
Robyn read over the note and chuckled. "Midnight..." She thought and looked up as Syrus spoke again.

"As for the bounty you have in other countries is concerned, I am sure none of that will matter. After all, even kings and queens are sensible people."

"That remains to be seen, Mr. Syrus, that remains to be seen." Robyn said and looked over at Cryus of Drake. "So, What of you. He made quite the speech, your odds are looking quite slim..."

Cyrus smiled slightly at the man's words. He waited for him to finish his speech and, eying the note he gave her. He would have to tell Moloch about that. If she pretended to work for them, but double-crossed them.... Well, things could be rather troublesome. As he left, he looked at Robyn and chuckled at her words.

"That remains to be seen, Mr. Syrus, that remains to be seen." Robyn said and looked over at Cryus of Drake. "So, What of you. He made quite the speech, your odds are looking quite slim..."

"If you were not interested in my offer, we wouldn't be speaking. Now, what could the Fuarians offer you? Their treasury, you will find, is quite small in comparison to other, richer countries. The Arctic Lands can support them, but there isn't much of a surplus for paying mercenaries. They haven't warred with their neighbors in years, though, judging from their interest in you, this will change soon. Most likely, they will pay you in whatever plunder you can find, but where will you sell those valuables? King Moloch is more than capable of paying you handsomely for your services and has a port where you can do business undisturbed. He also offers you a ship as a token of his generosity.

As for the job, it's quite simple. Have you heard of the Sea Vultures? They served the Drake Kingdom well in the previous war and were well paid for your services, but their leader is demanding more than he deserves. Here is our offer: Duel the pirate, take control of his fleet, and work as a privateer for the Drake Kingdom. In return, you will receive a stipend, a ship of your choice from our navy, a safe port to trade in, and 70% of the plunder from your raids."

Cyrus paused for almost a minute, letting this sink in before continuing, "Of course, you are not the only pirate that sails these seas. If you reject this offer, we will find someone else."

"If you were not interested on my offer, we wouldn't be speaking. Now, what could the Fuarians offer you? Their treasury, you will find, is quite small in comparison to other, richer countries. The Arctic Lands can support them, but there isn't much of a surplus for paying mercenaries. They haven't warred with their neighbors in years, though judging from their interest in you this will change soon."

Robyn laughed at that. She figured that much already, she was amused by the 'My lands, richer then their land' stunt thry both were pulling, it was like childern fighting over which of them had the bigger slice of cake. Childish.

"Most likely, they will pay you in whatever plunder you can find, but where will you sell those valuables? King Moloch is more then capable of paying you handsomely for you services and has a port where you can do business undisturbed. He also offers you a ship as a token of his generosity.
As for the job, it's quite simple. Have you heard of the Sea Vultures? They served the Drake Kingdom well in the previous war and were well paid for your services, but their leader is demanding more than he deserves. Here is our offer: Duel the pirate, take control of his fleet, and work as a privateer for the Drake Kingdom. In return, you will receive a stipend, a ship of your choice from our navy, a safe port to trade in, and 70% of the plunder from your raids."

Robyn leaned lazily against the bars, her arms hanging on the outside, peach still in hand. She took a bit out of it, she felt herself wanted to close her eyes and relish in it's sweetness, in it's nostalgia but she didn't. She simply licked her lips, appearing as if she didn't give a good damn, which was partly true. It was an interesting offer, to kill a man but it seemed all too easy, she could do that on her own time, and she has, just for the hell of it.

The port was a nice touch though, she had to admit, but she never did it for the money. With the way she looked, she could easily open her own brothel. No, it was something deeper then that, it was something darker...to this day she was never entirely sure what is was. It didn't matter now, she was good at it.

They wanted something
The privateer bit wasn't lost on her either, that part didn't sit well. That was the catch.

As she poundered over this, Cyrus spoke again.

"Of course, you are not the only pirate that sails these seas. If you reject this offer, we will find someone else."

Robyn brow shot to her forehead and she laughed, like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard.

"Oh that's rich."she said, shaking her head downward as she laughed.

" Do you honestly think I believe that? " She said, catching her breath, " By the Gods, Do you honestly believe that?" She said, and then suddenly she stopped, her face went dead and she grabbed Cryus by the collar, vioently and yanked him toward her, pulling him up against the bars, her lips centimeters from his face.

"Listen you pretentious peice of shit, Of course, I am not the only damned pirate who sails these seas but there is no one quite like me, is there? Your King, requested me specifically, that is why he was so willing to risk possible tension between Drake and the South Pacific,by releasing another King's prisoner, surely King Robert the Old knows nothing of this little proposistion, no and why is that? Because he needs me, my skill set. If he wanted some run of the mill pirate he would have got one." She said and released the man, and stepped away from the bars.

"I know of the Sea Vultures. A foolish name really, but that is a foolish man so it fits. That is what you get for hiring privateers....and speaking of foolish men, tell your King, since you are such a raging idiot, and are too damn foolish to have the proper answers to any questions I have, He can come and see me himself, or he can take offer, shove it up his royal arse, turn left and then go straight to hell." She said plainly, and took another bite of her peach.

"Well, Go on." She said, and shooed him with a flick of fingers as if speaking to a stray dog. "I've got things to do..."

The throne room of the Red Keep was silent as a crypt. The Fuarian dignitary knelt before the steps to the iron throne and consequently the line of Kingsguards, with an ornate looking jewel encrusted golden chalice. King Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, sat unmoving on his iron throne. His face was an unreadable mask that could be mistaken for displeasure or mere annoyance. His kingly stare flicked from the goblet to the foreign king and back again. Resigned to accept the gift Robert motioned for the cup and it was brought to him by one of his Kingsguard who inspected it carefully before handing it over to his Majesty. Robert gave the item a cursory glance before casually handing it to his brother who stood stoically at his right.

"I was told you were bloodthirsty, savage and thoroughly devoid of any semblance of courtly graces. You can imagine my disappointment at finding nothing more than nobles that wear leather instead of lace. Very well. I accept your gift, Your Majesty is too kind."

Robert said utterly bored with the entire preceding. He got to his feet, rising from the iron throne to loom over the hall like a great shadow.

"We have meat and mead in plenty. You are guests in my city and given your station are entitled to one of the estates just outside of the Red Keep reserved for guests of the crown. Boy!"

He barked calling for his squire. The young, place faced Lancel Casterly rushed to his kings side in an instant.

"Y-yes, Y-Your Grace?"

"Show the king and his men to the Manse by the sea. Should do them well for their stay."

"At once, Your Grace."

Lancel said respectfully before rising to his feet and escorting the foreign king and his retainers to the mansion that overlooked Blackwater Bay. Once the Fuarian's were gone Robert would hear no more matters of state. He would eat, drink himself into a stupor and enjoy the remainder of the evening in peace or there would be hell to pay.

Meanwhile on the tourney field in a pavilion of yellow and black Ser Orys Baratheon sat in an oaken chair, coated with with wolf pelts reading a book. He had removed his armor and was in a simple yet richly made quilted tunic. The color of the fabric was black as a crows wing.The only color breaking up the monotony of black was the golden stags that adorned the tunic as buttons. Orys had a fire growing in the braziers within the tent to cut the chill that was coming with the setting of the sun and he had a glass of Arbor Red Wine beside him that he had been casually sipping on as he read about the fantastical Caliphate of Andalusia. Orys was in the middle of a chapter describing the mighty rhinox which were massive beasts used as mounts by the Andulasian knights.

It was then that a familiar voice pulled Orys from the flat lands of the east and back to the tourney field of King's Landing.

"Is Prince Orys availabe or is he frequenting a paramour that I should know about,"

Orys shouldered past the guards standing outside his tent. His thick, heavily muscled frame caused the gold cloaks to nearly stumble from the rough bump. Orys set his sights on the king of Moloch before breaking into a wide smile and embracing the man as a friend and brother.

"Moloch!"

He said as cheerfully before releasing the king from his grasp and taking a step back.

"It's good to see you again, how long has it been?... Or should I say how long has it been Your Grace. Come, come, have a drink with me."

Orys said waiving the King of Drake into his tent where he set out a couple of mugs and filled them both with strong honeyed mead so the men could talk and catch up. It wasn't long before drink wasn't enough for the two men and Orys sent for food to be brought to them in his pavilion. Choice cuts of boar with lemon seasoning and spiced potatoes along with three roast quails, a leg of lamb, a cask of ale, a bowl of blueberries and raspberries, and finally a few sweet cakes for desert were laid out for them at their leisure and the old friends feasted and laughed joking all the while as night descended on King's Landing.

Sevilla
Caliphate of Andalusia

The Fortress of Sevilla reared out the Ocean of Fire like some great beast, it’s square towers and fluttering pennants an alien sight in the middle of the vast, never ending sea of sand dunes. Five hundred miles of desert and desolation lay to its east and west, broken only by the small-fortified wells that served as way stations for travellers so that they might find shelter for the night.

The Spice Road passed beneath the Fortress, following the route of a nameless underground river that served to provide water for the watering places, without which no traveller could survive the crossing.

For the Caliph it was a familiar road he had travelled many times over his years on this earth and he looked forward to his visit to Sevilla. It was a miracle of life in an otherwise endless desert, built within a volcanic crater that provided shelter and life to all within.

“They have seen us my lord!” Called the lead rider and indeed, as he spoke, a flare arched into the sky to let them know they had been marked by the sentries. The Caliph made a mental note to have the sentinels rewarded for their vigilance. He knew how boring it could be to spend your days staring out over the endless unchanging desert.

There were twelve riders in total; he, his daughter Randja and ten bodyguards who rode about them in lose formation. They had been picked for their skill on camelback, their endurance and most of all for their loyalty. He knew that each of them was sweating foully under their armour as he was but none complained. Randja on the other hand looked disgustingly cool and happy in her light riding gear and he could not help but smile at her excitement. She had never been to Sevilla before.

It took them another three hours to close on the fortress, the walls rising ever higher as they approached. He could see small figures moving on the bridge that connected the main castle to the keep, his green banner streaming in the wind to warn the garrison of who was approaching.

They passed beneath the high bridge, Randja craning her head back to look upwards before smiling at him, eyes glittering in excitement. He smiled back and then turned his horse left, leading the party as they started to climb the roadway hacked from the rock towards the Shadow Gate, so named for its place beneath the shadow of the castle.

Hooves sounded suddenly loud on the stone after so many days of riding on sand and the smell of the city beyond reached out to them as they climbed the long roadway. It was much like a huge ramp, ending at a great drawbridge that rested over a chasm that dropped two hundred feet to the sand and jagged rock below.

The Shadow Gate was set nearly halfway up the carter wall, the sides having been smoothed for the last two hundred feet so that an unbroken barrier surrounded the city.

People and animals scattered in front of the Royal banner and all knelt to the Caliph as he passed, more than a few calling out greetings and blessings as they passed for the Caliph was well known for his generosity and fair treatment of all.

Despite their high perch on the camels the riders did not have to duck to pass into the Shadow Gate though they did have to slow for the defences of the place required them to make several ninety degree turns and pass through three more gateways built into the tunnel walls before they burst into the sunlight once again.

The Shadow Gate opened onto the high ledge that allowed one to look out over the entire city and the Caliph heard Randja gasp and could not blame her. The inside of the crater was like nothing someone looking at from the outside could imagine.

Houses and shops hugged the high sides of the crater, serviced by roads chiselled from the stone. In the middle of the city lay a large lake, perhaps half a mile wide, into which a waterfall poured at one end. Trees and flowers bloomed everywhere, supplied by aqueducts that drew water from the head of the waterfall and hurried it away to great cisterns that in turn supplied every home with fresh running water.

On every side the crater walls rose high above the city, providing it shelter from the sand storms beyond and shade during much of the day to protect it from the heat of the sun.

The ledge parted into two roadways here, one descending into the city while the other passed through another gatehouse before climbing upwards towards the castle and its perch on the highest point of the crater.

It was up this road that the Royal party spurred, soldiers saluting as they passed, trumpets screaming a warning to the garrison further up the roadway. Even here the roadway was perilous, dropping off sharply on the right into the city below.

They soon reached the main gateway to the castle, two brutal towers that had been hacked from the living stone, flanking a doorway of great dried oak covered with steel to prevent them from being set ablaze.

Reaching out from the two towers were the battlements, once again carved into the crater lip and running the circuit of the city. A second smaller castle was visible at the extreme end of the lake, standing guard over the water supply.

The Caliph paused here on the doorstep to the fortress and turned, taking a moment to look over the strange oasis that lay sheltered below him. He patted his daughter’s hand.

“Welcome to Sevilla my dear.”

Night came and with it King's Landing slept. The commotion of the day muted to a low hum and the city of King's rested for the day ahead. The moon stood it's vigil as always and when it's watch came to an end the sun returned with a new day and promise of a spectacle like none the realm had seen before. Golden trumpets sounded as knights from all over the realm marched their magnificent warhorses to the tourney field. In the early morning hours the jousting pitch was already packed with spectators eager to see the arrival of the days champions. The tourney field was a length of sanded earth, packed down with a wooden fence separating where the jousting knights would come charging at one another. Along one side of the pitch was the finely crafted wooden stands, where the King, his Queen, his court, courtiers and royal guests would sit and witness the days events. On either end of the stands were massive carved stags prancing proudly with their magnificent antlers adorning their wooden heads like crowns. The other side of the field bore no seating but was open to the public and all members of realm who wished to bear witness to the days spectacle.

The crowned stag of Baratheon was everywhere from the massive tapestry sized banner that flew from over the kings seat in the center of the stands to the high standard poles on either side of the carved stags. Beside the royal sigil came all the others that earned high honors and respect. There was the golden lion of Lannister on it's crimson field and the grey direwolf of Stark on it's field of white. The golden rose of Tyrell amidst it's sea of green and the silver trout of Tully swimming through it's rivers of red and blue were there granting their beauty for all to see. There was the black hounds of Clegane on their yellow fields and the white moon and falcon of Arryn on a sky blue field. So many banners and colors the tourney goers no doubt felt as if they had stepped into a fever dream the sights and sounds of the tourney were so wonderous.

Then came fourth that which all had come to see, the knights in all their splendor. Champions in their brilliant, shining plate it was a beauty to behold such radiance. The high lords and ladies marveled at the warriors beneath their steel as did the small folk. The column of knights had men from all corners of the South Pacific. One of the first knights to be recognized was the well known Ser Beric Dondarrion in his black, heavy plate armor of riveted steel. Emblazoned on his chest and on his shield was the purple lightning bolt of his house. Down his back was a massive cloak of fine embroidery that depicted a nights sky with stars and lightning arcing down. Next came the monstrous Ser Gregor Clegane, so large he was called The Mountain That Rides. Following behind his brother was Sandor Clegane who was often called The Hound, no doubt for the sigil of his house and the ferocious helm he wore that had the appearance of a snarling hound.

As the Clegane brothers rode by the kings grace some heard Lord Petyr Baelish begin to take wagers that The Mountain would win the day. Next came Ser Hugh of the Vale, a young knight of only twenty who wore wonderfully enameled blue steel with a falcon helm and a magnificent sky blue cloak. After him was the only knight not from the South Pacific, Ser Jorah Mormont who served as the sworn shield of the Queen of the North Pacific Kingdom. She was seated just below King Robert Baratheon himself and Queen Cersei. On her right sat the King of Drake Moloch Markus who at the moment was listening to the King rave about his nephew who was no doubt soon to ride past.

At the end of the procession came the two men who were most expected to win the entire week long tourney. First was the knight of flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell. Where some knights were strong and others were cunning Ser Loras was above all beautiful. His armor was the finest plate many have ever seen, with forged roses adorning his shoulder pauldrons and vines that descended down to his gauntlets. His helm was wreathed in silver roses so masterfully crafted they appeared to be living plant made of shining metal. Flowing down his slender shoulders was a cloak of hand woven roses of varying colors giving it an almost rainbow appearance. Many of the lady's in attendance and maidens swooned as he rode past granting them a chivalrous nod or a wave that sent their hearts a flutter.

Then he came, The Shadow of Axel, Robert come again, Ser Orys Baratheon and with his entrance the people erupted in a deafening roar of cheers. Clearly the favored to win and the crowds chosen champion. He wore heavy steel plate of the highest caliber that shined in the morning sun. The plate was enameled beautifully with stags prancing proudly up his chest. His large frame posed a heroic figure atop his massive destrier whose coat and mane were black as obsidian. His helm was adorned with fearsome looking stag's antlers and his large shoulder pauldrons had the images of charging stags hammered in with exquisite detail. Flowing down his broad back was a cloak of yellow and black so long it covered much of the war horse he rode upon. The king leapt to his feet cheering loudly and pointing proudly as Orys rode by. So excited he was he spilled his wine all over the Queen's fine crimson dress and hardly seemed to notice, even as she walked off fuming.

A year ago her father had attempted to poison and kill the ruling monarchy of Drake City. A year ago her father's attempt had failed to poison the ruling monarchy of Drake City. For this failure her paid the price and not only losing the battle but the war itself which in turn left the South Atlantic Kingdom stripped of priceless resourceful lands. As if the lost hadn't been bad enough the arrogant new king of the city-state had even begun to call what he had a kingdom. In Kenna's eyes Drake City was Drake City and that was all the city would ever be. In truth had it not been for the South Pacific king taking up Moloch moving cause there grand city probably wouldn't still be standing today. However, the past was in the past and could not be changed. The only thing Kenna could do was pick up where her father had left off and restore her fair kingdom back to its pristine glory. Which is exactly what she had done over the course of the year. Structures had since been repaired; the men had been replenished and equipped with better arms and the only thing that was misses was allies. Alliances had to be formed to make sure that the past could never repeat itself. She would not make the same mistakes her father had.

((Mature Content Below))

Robyn hardly slept that night, She'd finished the peach and spent most of the night staring at the pit.

Squeezing it in her palm she sighed. She hadn't completedly decided on which offer she was going to choose, The Fuarian's seemed much too kind, and the Drake's, They wanted too much.

She may end up just cutting her loses and just leaving.

She opened her palm.


"I want to go with you..."

Then there was that; Davos.

The child in her, the one that still pinned for his attention, she didn't let her leave without seeing him one more time.

The one person, despite how she felt, she couldn't just leave. Not without saying goodbye....

She placed the peach pit on the ground and piled dirt over top of it after hearing the commotion of the tourney.

It was time, she couldn't wait anymore.

She'll find him...before she disappears.


She lay back against her bed, unbuttoning her top just enough to show the bronze skin underneath but nothing more intimate.

Just then a young guard walked passed.

Robyn began breathing heavily, slowly rising a leg, her fingers trailing across her chest.

"Aye, What's on with you then?" asked the guard.

Robyn managed to hid her grin. There were only a few guards on duty due to the tourney. Most of them were young as the senior guards were protecting the royals.

Got him...

"I feel weak, it is so hot..."

Robyn said panting. The Guard frowned, and looked her over. She watched his eyes linger on her legs and then become tempted by the bare skin on her chest.

"Water..." She breathed. The Guard snapped back to reality and rushed to get her water.

Robyn rolled her eyes and as he came back she looked at him, her eyes pleading.

"Can you help me drink?" Her voice velvet smooth, and low.

He knelled down, slipped his arm under her and raised her to meet the cup to her lips. She slowly sipped the water, 'mistakely' let a water drop drip from her lip and rolled down her chest and down into her shirt, his eyes followed and then shot up to her eyes. She looked at him, her eyes now tempting him to come closer. "B-better?" He asked, his eyes falling on to her lips before reaching her eyes again. "Much better, thank you." She said, leaning up on her own now, merely a breath away from the guard. "G-Goo-" Robyn captured his lips with hers, her tongue brushing across his lips. The poor guard didn't know what to do but kiss her back.

Soon the two were at each other, it didn't take long before Robyn had the guard on his back, her body hovering over him just so.

"My name is T-"

"Shhh," Robyn said, covering his mouth with a hand. "Don't speak." She said and lowered her lips to his, before trailing down his jaw to his neck and lingering there. The guard seemed to be enjoying himself as his eyes closed and didn't notice that while her hand was traveling downward it was going to where he may have hoped, instead it went down to the knife hostlered at his waist and before he had time to think, he felt the knife glide across his throat, releasing the familiar copper scent into the air.

The guard grabbed his throat, choking and gargling as Robyn sat and watched. "It's really too bad, you were quite the kisser." She said and proceeded to collect his clothes that had found its way to the floor.

She slipped on his clothes, Robyn was always was a tall women, so while the clothes were large, they didn't drag, She could go undetected quite easily, a skill she mastered as a child.

Once she finished, She had pinned up her hair, tucked it under the guards hat, found the peach pit and shoved it in her pocket.

She sighed, cracked her neck.

"I want to go with you..."

Robyn walked out, locking the cell door behind her, then simply strolled out of the Black Cells.

Now to find Davos...

Moloch listened patiently as the King went on and on about his nephew. It seemed to him that his suspicions were being confirmed at this very moment. King Robert Baratheon had no trueborn children. All the children that he had had by Queen Cersei had been miscarried, contributing to the tension between the two. Orys, however, was healthy and a proven warrior and leader. His kinship with the king was beyond doubt. Orys was the obvious candidate to succeed Robert should he die, but Robert had not named him his heir. If he did not name him an heir before he died, it was likely that the Casterly's would attempt to take the throne through a document conveniently drafted by the king shortly before his death giving Cersei the crown matrimonial. This would give the queen and her future descendants the legal right to reign, not his kin, should she outlive him. He doubted Robert was aware of this, however.

"I do not know, Robert. There is no greater soldier in my service than Eirene and I gave her leave to compete if you recall," Moloch noted. Following Orys was Eirene, dressed in dark plate armor forged from fossilized dragonbone emblazoned with gold. Her helm matched her armor, a long gold dragon curving over the top. She did not draw as much acclaim as Orys Baratheon, but her gender and clear foreign nationality seemed to draw some interest.

"I would wager 100 dragons on her winning the tourney and 150 dragons on her winning the melee," Moloch offered with a slight smile, "Though, I have to warn you. She is still angry from a... Disagreement she and I had."

"Hmph. That's putting it mildly," Cyrus chuckled from his right. Moloch smiled slightly. Today had been interesting.

Cyrus undid the spell, allowing Moloch to appear from the shadows so that he could talk to the pirate. He looked thoughtful as he examined the pirate. She was beautiful, he noted, despite being trapped in this dungeon for so long, but she looked fierce, like a dragon ready to tear his heart out.

"It is not often that I grant the requests of one who acts so presumptiously. But I am intrigued. I had thought my offer was a generous one, but this is better. With both Cyrus and I here, we can create a magical contract between you and myself."

Robyn stood at the docks of Flea Bottom, her hand clenched into a tight fist which held the peach pit.

This was were they first met.

Just to her left was where he found her, rummaging through chum, hoping for something edible.
"Come now, lass. you don't want to be eating that now. Have you bringing it all back up within the hour. Here..."
Robyn closed her eyes. She had every intention on leaving this place but being back here after so long, seeing Davos again. It brought back alot of memories.

Robyn found old tavern where she used to sleep, the old vent that kept her somewhat warm was still there, and still warm.

She smirked some and made her way inside and took in the familiar scent of rum and cooked meats.

No one gave her a passing glance as this was always a place for smugglers, small time pirates and other criminals. None of them expected the most notorious Flea Bottom criminal to walk in, She'd been incarcerated for well over 3 years.

She took a seat at the bar ordered a drink.

She looked down at the rum in the glass and sighed.

What to do?

"A Magical Contract...I don't deal in magic." Robyn said, unphased by the King suddenly appearing. He was attractive, there was no doubt in that. He was one of those men that she had hoped would visit her in the brothels, handsome, with a charming, smelled nice too, the,sort that didn't seem like the needed to be in a brothel, not like the soggy sailors the reeked of fish that she was forced to deal with.

As handsome as he is, she hated magic. It sucked the fun right out of everything. "You gotta give me something better? You want me to kill a man, become a privateer using magic, and for what? A ship I can easily acquire on my own, The dock of my own is a nice touch but not enough when magic is involved." She said. "I hate magic, there is too much give and take with it and as you know giving isn't exactly my strong suit." She said with narrowed eyes. "So tell me what this is really about, The Sea Vultures are an easy fix, a bullet to the brain will solve any problem they cause, but no, you want something more, so out with it, What is it that you really want, Moloch." She said, purposely breaking etiquette, just to get under his skin. It may or may not work but it amused her.

"So tell me what this is really about, The Sea Vultures are an easy fix, a bullet to the brain will solve any problem they cause, but no, you want something more, so out with it, What is it that you really want, Moloch."

She was prejudiced against magic and didn't seem to trust him. Pity. This was going to be much more difficult than he thought.

"I want someone I can trust. There is a war coming and I don't much fancy my entire mercenary fleet turning against me at the worst possible moment. Such incidents have changed the courses of many wars in history and I don't desire to be on the receiving end. The contract works both ways, you know. We both will have to keep our word."

Robyn mused over this. "A War," She said like she was excited about it. " Now, why didn't you say so, see if you would have said that earlier then I would have told you no much quicker." She said her expressiong dropping. "You think I wish to be involved with the meaningless squabbling of Royals? Hardly. Then, I'll be bound to you by whatever bloodmagic, you have me contracted in? I don't think so." She said and moved away from the cell bars, but stopped just short of her bed. "And I'll tell you this now, Handsome, you can never trust me...even with a magical contract..." She said quite matter of factly. "Whatever your word might be, isn't worth a damn to me, Magic or not. Trust is a myth and a waste of time." She said and took a seat on her bed, and lay back.

"Perhaps if you dropped the magical contract, I'll consider it. Given your honesty and any excuse to tear a place asunder is fine by me, but no magic. If not, you can move on to the next pirate...I honestly don't give a damn."

Robyn sighed, and scanned the room for the Syrus of Fuaria and his King. They had secrets they wanted to share too.

Never before had she been this easy to reach...it was annoying.

Sevilla
Caliphate of Andalusia

General Sayid Jarrah arrived only a day after the Caliph, riding in from the East with a small escort of swift desert horsemen. He was younger than the Caliph by several years but the two of them had shared many battlefields together. Of late he had been tasked with marshalling the Armies of Andalusia in the East and preparing them for War, should the negotiations with Rhun turn sour.

His horse clattered through the Shadow Gate and turned to make the long climb up into the main fortress. He passed through the outer gates, nodding recognition to the soldiers who stood guard. He had many skills but one of the greatest he possessed was a flawless memory everything he saw, read, or heard was with him forever. It was a double edged sword for he could fondly remember all of the women he had been with, but his battles would never truly leave him either. A mixed blessing from the Goddess.

"The Caliph waits you in the Caliphs Towers, he says there is no need for haste." This came from a young stableboy who took the Generals horse and led it towards the stable where it would be watered, rubbed down and fed.

He stretched, glad to be out of the saddle and once again mentally blessing the Caliph who never rushed anything. He allowed himself to be led to a guest suite that had been set aside for him. Like most of the fortresses in the Caliphs domain the interior of the Sevilla Fortress was simple, practical, and inviting.

A small bathhouse was available on this floor, the water being pumped from below by great wheels that turned ever so slowly but managed to draw the water upwards. The hot bath had been stoked the minute he came into view and so now, as he lowered himself into the water, it was almost unbearable.

He relaxed, allowing the hot water to soak away the tension in his muscles and ease the pain in his lower back, riding a horse for hours on end tended to make one uncomfortable. Then he dunked his head, scrubbing at his beard and body, washing away the grim of his journey and the sand from places he did not wish to think of. Then he called for a servant and allowed himself to be properly washed, shampooed and scrubbed down before climbing from the water.

He chose a simple white robe trimmed with green. He did not bother to tie up his long hair but rather let it hang lose. A pair of sandals and his sword were the only other items he allowed himself before making his way through the fortress and into the lower portion of the Caliphs Tower. The lower floors of the tower were taken up by the Caliphs bodyguard, big men who watched him silently, returning his nod. None moved to stop him, they all knew who he was.

As he climbed the tower he passed through a suite of rooms on one floor that had been closed off and he could hear sweet singing coming from within. The Caliph must have brought one of his daughters along. Two guards stood outside this door and like the others they returned his nod but he knew they would not let him pass. No one saw the Caliphs daughters without his express permission.

He passed the Caliphs bedroom, then the upper library and at last he stepped through a final door and out onto the very top of the Caliphs Tower. The view, as it had always been, was awe inspiring. One one side he could easily see into the City of Sevilla, on the other three the endless Ocean of Fire stretched to the horizon.

A large awning had been stretched across the entirety of the towers summit and two cushion had been set out. The Caliph was alone, sitting cross legged and reading a series of manuscripts. A pile was on either side of him, one held down with his sword, the other with his helmet. He turned as the General appeared and offered him a smile.

"Welcome General Sayid Jarrah. How was your journey?"

"My Caliph." He responded, bowing low. "It was as I expected, long, hot, and full of sand. It is always a welcome thing to enjoy a bath after such a trip."

"Isn't it though." Said the Caliph as he gestured to the cushion across from him. "Please, sit."

The General did as he was bidden. The Caliph continued to read for a moment and the General recognized his own report in the Caliphs hand.

"So it is war?" Asked the Caliph as last as he put the manuscript down under his sword.

"I am afraid so sire. The King of Rhun seems quite determined to press his claims to Harad." Said the General. The King of Rhun, a fat toad like man, was a cousin to the former King of Harad, removed by a couple of generations but a blood claim none the less.

"I suppose if we must, we must." Said the Caliph in reply as he let out a heavy sigh. "So much for peace."

After a long ride out to Sevilla, the Princess Randja rewarded herself with a warm bath, cleansing her hair and body that had been invaded by sand.

Now she sat at a vanity mirror, combing her long raven locks humming a soft tune.

She was glad to be out and about, especially with her father. In her younger days she hadn't been able to travel with him as often as she had been, but at the same time, these were times of peace, a gentle calm was about the realm now.

As she finished combing her hair, she dressed.

She wore a long pale blue sari, with trimmed gold embroidery, atop her head was a similar pale blue veil, adorned with the same gold trimming. Her warm olive skin held a sunkissed glow, her teal grey eyes lined with dark liner, making the color show even more vibrant, resting across her forehead were strung gems, shaped as a flower, with a large jewel that rested in the middle of her forehead between her brow.

She smiled softly at her reflection and made her way out of her chambers with the intention of going toward the nearest library. The armed guards at the door bowed respectively. "Malik," She greeted with a small curtsey "Jaheem." She said with a smile. "Will you escort me to the library?" She asked them. The three of them knew it was merely a formality. They'd follow her whether she wanted them to or not, but she felt it was right to ask them, so they knew she cared for their feelings and opinions.

Shortly after, as she and the two guards lead her toward the library, she noticed the door that lead to the Caliph's Tower.

She hadn't seen her father since they'd parted shortly after their arrival and felt she should check up on him. Her father was in perfect health but he wasn't getting any younger and she knew that being Caliph could be quite stressful. "Malik, Can you inform my father that I wish to enter, I'd like to know if I can be of any assistance before I begin my reading." She said, knowing that sometimes she could get lost in the written word.

Moloch hummed in thought. This pirate was going to be difficult, perhaps more difficult than it was worth. He could never trust her and if what Cyrus told him was true, the Fuarians were interested in her too. Would they try to steal the entire fleet from him and turn them against him? He would have to take precautions. He smiled at her in a deceptively friendly manner.

"Very well, I will drop the magical contract. However, I should warn you. I have never lost at games of power and deceit. Those who have thought to beat me are dead."

This was not an idle boast of a pampered prince. He was remembering a particular event in his past.

Moloch watched the combatants while thinking about his kingdom's strength at sea. It was fortunate that his navy was growing despite his people's dislike for the sea.

"Very well, I will drop the magical contract. However, I should warn you. I have never lost at games of power and deceit. Those who have thought to beat me are dead."

Robyn snickered, stood up for her bed, and stuck her hand out of the bars. " Then I suppose we have a deal, but I should warn you, I never play a game I can't win..."


Robyn knocked back the last of her grog and sighed. It was then she remembered something.

Davos had a son....What was the chaps name...?

Mathos...Ah yes... That'll be where she'll start but first to deal with this Fuarian business, if he didn't hurry along, she'd be gone and much harder to find, it wasn't like she was exactly welcomed in South Pacific.