Virgil was not sure if Vaino was screwing around but he replied "Not at all i believe they are Lord Hightower's grand flagship and escort." Virgil came in closer to Vaino, he raised his glass "Cheers for the good of the realm." and to Typhon also. "You know good sir, I lived in the Marshes for as long as i lived here, a glass of thick Marsh brew and bright red wine every night was standard and i must comment, Sundregn brothels are the finest." He did not mean to insult but to test his waters.

Brothels? The first meeting and the prince speaks of brothels? Vaino thought to himself. It was not very proper to act in such a way but then again this boy was a bastard. He hoped the other wardens would come soon for he wished to get to his deal that he was going to propose to the prince. Perhaps he could do so privately if the chance came by. He then grinned at the prince. "I have often been much too busy to experience those simple pleasures so I cannot give feedback. I do, however, enjoy the wine very much. Personally I lean towards sweeter wines. Plum or apple wines are especially delightful." He told the prince. "Do you by chance have any?"

"No no no I'm not drinking any sissy wine I want something stronger, Haven't been up to brothel for a quite a few years since before I was married, And forgive my language I still have bad habits from I was growing up so if I use commoner terms don't get mad"He said as he laughed. " Don't worry I brought make it here weapon schematics of my latest weapon on my ships very useful if you want to put them on top fort" and Laid a roll of parchment on the table. "Shame on you swamp Lord bringing weapons to meeting with the king even i know that you give the guards your weapons, see all I have with me is a stick in my men only have their fists."

"Forgive me Lord I'm going to speak candidly, I'm sure you've heard the rumors about me I'm lowborn, that I'm the king of criminals, And I'm at utterly ruthless to my enemies, As I've heard that your a bastard, that your womanizer and a drunk, and that you don't have the will to control the four Hounds your father kept in check. I'm sure you don't like the rumors about yourself as I don't like about me so let's make first impressions based on this conversation. First you should wipe Out Your Court, kill, banish, retire anyone that you wouldn't put any trust to protect your child. As much don't trust any of us lords you definitely shouldn't trust any parasites, perhaps an advisor that maybe came to you as soon as your father died hoping to gain favor or advise you on the best course of action. Someone that would wait until the perfect time to slip poison to you when you killing instantly or killing you slowly doesn't matter maybe even taking in your Successor and molding them in his image."

"That doesn't mean you trust us at least three of us could hold you off for years maybe indefinitely if we chose to. The Lord of the mountain killing your army off in the narrow mountain pass, the Lord in the swamp hitting you after you when you get Swamp fever from the insects or fallen pits of mud or kill your army when they take off their armor because it's just too hard to move, And me I could hit and run you for years with your ships I outnumber you 5 to I make some of the best ship and ship weapon and attack on me would cost to you too much too much time and resources to rebuild after a failed attack."

"To show that you had fire, the drive to be better or at least as good as your father you need to show Everyone else that you have it. Kill your Court replace it with trusted that's one way. Could kill us four But that would start a war you can't win and I'm sure we all have commanders all competent enough with the wage war and that would be a problem. though the third way it always find another nation maybe get more land for your Kingdom" He said this with a grin the predator shows when prey with the arm reach, and when he talked about the swamps defenses he winked at this his fellow lord right next to him.

Virgil was about to reply to Vaino's question when the giant spoke. Everyone was silent listening to his hard voice. "Audacious!" Qunten pulled out his sword and pointed it Typhons neck. Guards came in and were ready to pounce. "Pfft, a bunch of bollocks..." before Qunten could go on Virgil stood up "Enough!" he signaled the guards back to their posts, Qunten sheathed his sword without protest. Ostel stood in the corner silent, his face red and had his hand on his dagger, the atmosphere was heating up in an attempt to defuse the situation Virgil thanked Typhon and then examined the blueprints. "I've heard tales and seen them on many ships but never had i seen the actual plans to make them, amazing. Ostel please sent them to Tigernan for copying."
"As you wish your majesty." he stormed out of the room. Typhon was a distasteful person to Virgil but hospitality must be maintained and he had to made sure that no harm came to them to build credibility. "Let us finish off our drinks and you will be shown to your quarters where you will spend your time at till the end of the ceremony, do check by the library our librarian and historian Tigernan is an interesting person to speak to about history and the likes."

A fine morning feast was laid out across the lavish table. Fresh fruit, honey, meats, bread and cool wine for the Wardens delectations. Isodell De Hugh FitzWarren looked up from her seat at the head of the table as the door to the chamber opened and a man in a dark green robe that hooded his face walked in.

“Uncle.” Isodell beemed genuinely. “Come join me.”

Treyon Eli removed the hood from his face to reveal a gracefully ageing middle aged man with hair cut short and salt and pepper in color. A devoted Priest of the Maker, Treyon Eli was the only family Isodell had and her most trusted advisor.

He took a seat next to her, a look of patience with a slight frustration lined his features. Isodell waved a serving wench forward, the girl began to fill a plate for Treyon.

“Niece. I've been hearing some quite disturbing news and here you sit undaunted eating away as if the Kingdom is not on the brink of mutiny."

Isodell waited for the maid to put the plate down in front of her uncle and pour him a glass of wine.

“Will there be-” The girl curtsied and began to speak before Isodell cut her off.

“Leave us.”

The maid did not loiter and left immediately.

“I find I can not think clearly on an empty stomach Uncle, especially something that requires over much thinking power such as war.” She jested as she look a bite out of an Apple slice.

“This is no laughing matter Isodell. I'm very serious.” Treyon stated firmly.

“As am I Uncle. How come the preparations for our departure?” Isodell questioned changing the subject for a moment.

“Well.” Treyon grumbled as he took a hearty bite of sweet meat and took a sip of wine. “All is almost ready. Your gown for the coronation ceremony is having the jewels stitched on as we speak.”

“Good. Then early on the morrow we shall leave for Langsmerth.”

“Aye.” Treyon said taking another sip of the wine and then looked with narrow eyes on his sister's daughter.

She maybe the spitting image of his sweet, dear departed sister but her mind and her cunning was all her father. All De Hugh. As the saying went the Apple does not fall far from the tree. Of course he loved his niece dearly, she was like the daughter he never had alas he worried for her sometimes. It was not a woman's place to be running a Wardenship. The only true place of a woman, no matter what class she came from was at her husbands side, and the only thing she should be running should be her household.

“You will pay fealty to the King?”

Isodell took her time as she spread honey on a slice of toast and took a bite, chewing the question over in her mind. She felt her Uncles sharp gaze upon her countenance.

Would she pay fealty? It was such a simple question, that needed only a yes or no answer. If anyone else would have asked her that question she may not have given a truthful answer, she may have just told the asked what they wanted to hear. But with her Uncle, her sole Kin and trusted advisor she need not lie. Although, she could already taste his disagreement to her answer before she had even said the words.

“Only if I find him worthy.” She replied at long last.

“You will denounce him publicly?!” Treyon almost chocked on his wine. “You'll be an outcast! He is heir whether fit or not is besides the question. You will bow down to him.” Treyon commanded. “The Houses of De Hugh and FitzWarren, though the latter may have been fiends, have always been loyal to the House of Madriach, ever since they came to be Monarchs.”

Had anyone else dared talk to her in such a manner, they would have lost their tongue by now. But Treyon Eli was like a father to her and Isodell knew he only had her best interests at heart.

“Nay, I will not.” Thus she replied calmly. “I will no more pay fealty to a bumbling fool then I will to an a heir who is not worthy to sit on the throne.”

Treyon looked upon his niece with dark eyes, praying the fool girl see sense. What in God's name was she about? . . . And then it came to him like a bolt of thunder. His eyes narrowed. His voice turning deadly low and flat.

“Do not be foolish lass. Take the idea right out of your mind.”

Isodell turned her head to look her Uncle straight in the eyes.

“Why? I have army. I have means, soldiers, weapons, abundance of wealth. Plus I am no green girl uncle you worry too much.”

Silence stretched for a long moment, a silent war of wills being fought. Finally, Isodell sighed heavily and then smiled slowly at her Uncle, the smile of the once mischievous child she had been.

“Uncle, if he is a worthy King I have no qualms of paying fealty. If he is not . . . Then we shall see. As for now I believe we all must make haste to make journey south. After all how can I judge him if I have not given him a chance to prove himself after all. I am nothing if not a fair ruler am I not?”

“Fair ruler! Huh!” Treyon grumbled under his breath let the matter subsided as his niece filled his plate with more food.

Isodell laughed.

“Speaking of fair rule,” Treyon continued. “Hightower it is heard is increasing his army as we speak and Sivareth too.”

“Hightower is an impatient fool! Let him raise his army, it will do him little good. In broad day light he gathers his fleet. If this new King is no fool, he will behead any mutiny before it arises.” Isodell spat, striving for patience at the mention of Hightower.

Sivareth was still yet to be seen and not as great a threat – if a threat at all – as Hightower.

“You mean as you did dear niece?” Treyon question with a light air.

Yes, she supposed beheading was her favourite way to make examples of anyone that threatened her Wardenship, although it was a rarity nowadays. Nobles had got the message clearly that she would not be easy removed from her seat at Arv Rondalion.

“It has worked so far, has it not uncle?”

“Aye, that it has lass.” He grinned. “But if you kill them all what will there be left?”

“No enemies.” She stated plainly.

“And if war should ensue, what will you do then lass?” Treyon questioned getting back to the true and most important subject that had set the whole of Penumbria to quiver with worry.

He simply knew he would not like her answer.

“Why, absolutely nothing, of course.” Isodell replied no-nonsensically, patting the She-Wolf that slicked up to her side.

The dark beast was higher then the table. Blacktyde, Isodell's ever present companion since childhood. Isodell put a plate on the floor full of sweet meats for her pet.

“What?!” Treyon exclaimed. “Have you completely lost your wits lass?!”

“Nay, uncle, my wits are quite finely attached. Like I said I will do absolutely nothing. You must trust me uncle. Have I ever steered you wrong.” Isodell smiled not wanting to go into further details at the time being of her plans.

War was in her blood but she did not relish it. She had grown up seeing the dire costs of war and the innocent lives stolen and ruined. But that did not either mean if push came to shove she would not fight . . .

“Aye you have lass.” Treyon complained with a deep frown marring his forehead.

Isodell grinned patting her uncles hands.

“And what if Arv Rondalion is attacked.” Treyon question impatiently.

“If anyone is foolish enough to attack Arv Rondalion I will not hesitate to skewer them of course. Yet, I have no great fear of great damage or loss. The city itself is surrounded by two great walls. And our fortress home has five Keep walls of it's own surrounding it. It is the greatest, largest and strongest fortress castle in the whole of Penumbria. It would take no less then ten days and thousands of men to demolition and get through the five Keeps to get to the inner Keep and inside the castle. I know of no army large enough to defeat Arv Rondalion.” Isodell explained.

“I suppose you are right on that matter dearest.” Treyon acquiesced with a sigh. “So onto Langsmerth it is.”

“Yes, Langsmerth. We shall ride light. I need no more then twenty Knights and yourself to accompany me. The rest will stay on here at Arv Rondalion.”

Treyon frowned at his nieces words but thought it better then to argue, instead finding it more pointed to enjoy his morning meal.

Isodell, stroked the bitch at her side. Eyes narrowed, lost deep in thoughts of matters of state and war . . .

Let the fool men play their games of war and let the weak be weeded out . . . Oh yes, she would do nothing at all . . . at least to begin with.

Vaino sustained his manners even though he truley wished to cut out the giant's tongue. Suggesting to kill the court before the coronation was very unwise. It was true, however, that all of the wards posed a threat. The Ice Queen and Lord Theongor could just sit behind there fortresses. Hightower would hide behind his navy though there were a number of ways to destroy that navy. Vaino had terrain and numbers on his side but he did not wish to rebel for it would only hurt the marshes.

The warden took a drink of the wine handed to him by a butler. It was good, not as good as his own wine he kept in his cellar, but it was still a fine wine. He turned back to the prince. "So we are able to visit the library and stay in our quarters. Anywhere else? I personally wanted to spend some time in the city to get some things. I here Langsmerth traders carry the best spices in all of Penumbria."

The journey from Arv Rondalion to Langsmerth had been if not a pleasant one, at least a tolerable one. The weather had been treacherous but finally after five days of riding and stopping to make bed along the way in the small towns and passing villages they had arrived at Langsmerth at long last.

“Announce Lord Rondalion.” Murdock command the guard stationed at the large doors to the Great Meeting Hall.

Soon after arriving at the Palace, Isodell had wasted no time in gaining an interview with the new King. Her curiosity was too unmanageable as was her men's. But more so hers. She needed to know what kind of man he was. Though her informants had informed her he was surprisingly capable though maybe a little green and unused to such great responsibilities. Isodell wanted to see for herself whether he lived up to the information she was provided. There was nothing more so annoying then being given false intelligence thus it would also let her know whether she needed to replace her sources in the Palace in the near future.

“Where is Lord Rondalion?” Questioned the large guard, a frown creasing his thick brow as he eyed the group with the woman at the fore.

“You need not worry about that.” Isodell answered haughtily. “Just do what you are paid to do.”

The guard's frown turned mutinous at having been talked down to by woman but any words of rebuke he might have had died on his lips as his eyes flickered to the large group of solid men behind her clad in mail with swords at their sides. Instead he simply nodded and turned to open the grand doors.

“Your Majesty.” He bowed and gestured with a hand behind him. “My Lord Rondalion, the Warden of the Lowlands.”

Isodell swept in on a cloud of blue and purple silks that was her gown. A deep scarlet velvet cloak rested on her delicate shoulders and a long veil made of white net attached by a diamond encrusted ring adorning her pale hair masked her beauty. Her Knights close behind her.

“The Witch!” A woman's voice gasped and the hysteric whispers ensued en masse.

“Tis' the Ice Queen. She'll freeze you to death with her glare and those devil purple eyes!” Spoke another voice, as all eyes in the room rested sharply on her like the pointed ends of daggers.

A smile cracked across the face at the frightened whispers of the Courtiers. How very amusing, she thought in delight, that these people should fear her.

“Aye, it is the Witch, the Widow FitzWarren.

“Your Majesty.” Isodell said in a clear cut voice of obeisance that hushed all noise; stopping in the center of the room she curtsied deeply.

But it was no ordinary curtsy. A painful Court Curtsy that she had not preformed since she was a child and had visited Langsmerth with her father as a child. It had seemed easier then, when she weighed little more then a puppy. But right now it was painstaking work not to collapse on the spot right there. Yet, Isodell did not let her affliction appear on her features. She would never show any signs of weakness, not in front of these fools.

Legs crossed, her hands clasping the folds of her dress to the sides, her head bowed and her knees almost touching the ground, Isodell held the pose for a long moment before rising to face the party. Sounds of metal rubbing and straining echoed behind her as her Knights rose from their half kneeling bows after her.

“My most sincere condolences and my congratulations Your Majesty.” Isodell addressed her King philosophically. “It seems life is full of bitter sweet moments, is it not? To gain something we must oft times lose something of greater value.”

With a single hand Isodell lifted the long netted veil over her head. Her lips curving into a delicious smile as she studied the men before her. The Kings was dress in red velvet and could be no more then her own age. Yet his outfit was casual by Court standards and she somehow found this small detail endearing.

Next to him stood an older gentleman Isodell recognized from her visits to Court as a child as Lord Eddermarch. It was obvious time had taken a toll on Eddermarch, he was no longer the striking man she remember him to be but neither was he anything to sneer at, there was a reason after all that he had been the old Kings most trusted friend and adviser. The Kings guards – more then half a dozen of them - stood firmly behind the two men.

And off to the sides stood two men. Isodells eyes narrowed for a split second as they landed on the large brooding figure that she knew to be no other then the King of Criminals Typhon Sturmaz. And next to him could be either the Warden of the Highlands or the Marshes. Isodell could not be sure as she had never met either man in person before; sparing the pair no more than a passing glance, her attention was back to their new Sovereign.

“Forgive me Your Majesty, I do digress.” Isodell spoke sweetly. “In celebration of your accession to the Throne we bring you gifts from all of us at Arv Rondalion. Nay! In fact from all of the Lowlanders. We are after all your own people are we not Your Majesty?”

Isodell beamed gesturing forward four Knights that held two great chests between them. The men came forward placing the beautifully decorated chests a little before Isodell and opened them to reveal the priceless content.

Gasps once again echoed through the room as hushed whisper began to circulate. Isodell ignored them.

“The purest gold and silver in all of Penumbria so your reign is forever rich, bountiful and full of beauty.” Isodell stated in reference to the two trunks.

One filled to the brim with dazzling gold bars, statues and jewelry embedded with rare gems and stones from the mines of Silverstone. The other filled to the brim with similar objects but consisting of pure silver.

Gesturing, the next Knight forward who held in his lands a large silver platter covered over by a square of dark velvet. The material was lifted to reveal armor carved with an intricate design of swirls and spirals and at the center the family crest of the House of Madriach.

“Swords, Sheild and Armor plates of the finiest Iron and Steel from the very Mines of the Lowlands. None other in all of Penumbria could ever compete with it's lasting and forbearance so Your Majesty is always protected.” Isodell stated, eyes flashing quickly to Hightower and then back to rest on the Kings. “Though one wishes most adamantly that Your Majesty never finds himself in such a precarious position, however, it is an unfortunate but true fact that treachery is most certainly rife in Penumbria.”

Isodell spoke in a grave yet suggestive tone, letting the words lie between all present for a long moment before continuing.

“And last but not least.” Isodell added buoyantly once again. “Cinnamon flowers, Piment Escense, Sweet Salt & Safron to name a few and with many other more. So Your Majesty's life is always filled with spice.”

Isodell stated opening the smaller chest brought in front of her herself that held slotted compartments that held the rarest and most expensive spices and herbs that could be found in all of Penumbria and from beyond. Some of which cost more then silver or gold for less then an ounce a piece.

Taking a large pinch of the Sweet Salt Isodell let the snow white grains slip through her fingers and back into its place in the trunk.

“Or maybe spices were ill thought . . .” Isodell teased with a wicked grin upon her full lips; suddenly looking back up, capturing the Kings gaze.

She could hear her Uncles oaths under his breath knowing where his niece's daring was going and that she would refer slyly to the Kings like for whoring and drinking. But Isodell wanted to see if the new King possessed a sense of humor. One by one she planned to draw the Kings true traits out and see whether he was a fit ruler or someone who must be removed for the good of Penumbria.

True heir or not be damned!

“It is rumored, after all that Your Majesty's life is already overly spiced . . . is it not?”

In response to Vaino "Yes you can certainly leave the castle and into town, you are not under house arrest." Virgil chuckled emphasizing the last two words reminding him and Typhon to know where they step.

A messenger politely totted to the table where they were seated "Your most honorable sire, Lady Rondalion arrives!"

"Just in time, please more wine!" Virgil clapped. Servants hurried with one nearly tripping over.

Isodell walked in, Virgil was clearly allured by her cold beauty. All eyes were fixed on her as she sat. Her presences unnerving, it was almost like if the dreadful tales of the Ice Queen were true. The mention of disloyal vassals send shivers down his spine and discomforted faces were visible.

After making formalities and being acquainted, the gifts were presented. "Wonderful gifts, these must be worth at least tens of thousand of crowns, I am most certainly humbled by such a generous gift." Ostel returned walking obviously. "Ah, your lady, a thousand pardons." he bowed quickly "My lords.." Ostel moved over to the corner of the room and took post again.

Her remark which poked around with his hedonistic lifestyle caught him off guard, Ostel who picked up on it right away stiffened and looked directly at Isodell. Virgil cleared his throat "Excuses." feeling slightly pulled by the sly suggestion he hoped that Vaino or Typhon did not pick up he quickly replied "Bleh, overly spiced? Not enough spice, flavorless, The gifts you bring shall spice up my life just right." Virgil ordered one of the young pages over. "First step to Knighthood, take these bags to the pantry." The giant now the witch, jolly. he thought.

Virgil stood up and readjusted his jacket. "Sire?"

"Ah worry not Qunten, I'm not the one used to sitting down all day." Virgil discreetly gave Qunten a nudge. "I ordered a military display, i hope to the maker all the men are ready."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Lord Stormkeer is still a league or so away i hear, we've been sitting down all day, why don't we bring this out to a more open area? you wouldn't want to miss out on the scenery here."

The afternoon sun beat down on Maul and his entourage. He had already gotten rid of his heavy winter clothing and slipped into light leathers and an expensive blue cotton shirt. He hated dressing up, but the occasion called for some formality. Bann Lutius had convinced Maul to trim his beard a little and helped him look presentable. Riding next to Maul was Gortas, his master-at-arms, a forty-three year old beast of a man who could spear an enemy from eighty yards away. His six-foot-seven figure gave him a commanding presence. He also saw to it that the Kingdom of the Clouds was always well supplied with iron and steel imported from the Lowlands and turned into weapons for Maul's army, and the armies of the other Banns in the Highlands.

The countryside around Langsmerth was beautiful, and reminded Maul of vivid memories when he came here as a boy on winter vacations with his family. As they approached the city Maul marvelled at the grey walls of Langsmerth. Whatever natural cliffs and escarpments protected Arv Rondalion, Langsmerth had slowly and steadily grown into a remarkable fortress of comparable proportions. King Eamon Madriach had spent countless time and resources in creating a veritable castle city. It also covered the shore as far as Maul could see, with walls extended onto land for miles. Huge iron studded gates crowned with archer's nests were embedded in the walls made of huge pieces of smooth grey stone.

After their identity was established where the king's highway connected to the city at the south gate, Maul's entourage entered. The wide streets lined with trees were a welcome change from the crowded confines of the ancient Arv Stormkeer. Maul noticed the large granaries and merchant buildings, some constructed with the same level of detail and expensive materials as his fortress back home. Money certainly flowed more freely around here. The road led them along the waterfront where hundreds of vessels were docked, among them a huge galley decorated with intricate carvings. It must be the flagship of Captain Sturmaz. Trading vessels loaded and unloaded and fishing boats of all shapes and sized came and went. The docks were all a flurry of activity. Towering above everything else was the towers of the royal palace. The flags of the Kingdom of Penumbria happily fluttered in the wind, declaring where the seat of power rested. "I hope this prince can prove to all of us that he deserves our fealty."

Bann Lutius announced their presence at the main gate and they were promptly led inside. "My Lord Stormkeer, Prince Virgil and the other Lords have left the palace and should be back shortly. May I show you to your lodgings so you can relax while you wait for him?" a royal steward asked. "Yes, that would be fine. Please, lead the way."

“Fine I shall not soil your honor like also my own, but give Thoughts to my words They may be blunt but they have some truth to them” sipping his ale and ignoring the kissing up his counterpart was doing when he hear shouts of witch and screams of the servants He started grin like an idiot and reached for his stick until he saw it was just a lowland counterpart. After the showing of her gifts he went over got one knee took her hand and kissed it whispering to her ears only "Another hound to see how loose the leashes are have come by" then louder for the rest to hear " the rumors of your Beauty and stormy eyes are true and if I was single then I would ask for hand in marriage unluckily my heart and hand are already spoken for"

He sat back down as quick as he could before the woman could slap him, and when they got up to see the parade he stated " you need a wife and an heir my lord, I have a sister, still pure and she and my wife are always together, and my sister has all the assets a man could want. Give me the word and we can become brothers in all things." Sending his three guards away with a signal, Two of them bumped in to guards of lords of the swamp and lowlands quickly whispering " for your lord" before two stumbled off with their weapons to the dock and the third waited outside the gate with a note for the Lord of the high lands repeating the maneuver of his two compatriots. When read the note said "I love fishing for lantern fish if you would like to join me in fishing come to the docks tonight"

The dimly lit lantern emitted a ghostly yellow light in the blackness of the night. Shrouded in shadows a supple cloaked figure moved like some otherworldly apparition, stopping at the edges of the docks.

Isodell sighed heavily. If Typhon Sturmaz simply bade her here to make an attempt on her life she was going to lose what little patience she had for him. The fact that he might succeed in removing her was a laughable matter to her. Many better men had tried before, however Isodell FitzWarren would not be removed so easily.

“Blacktyde.” She whispered calling out to her wolf who was indistinguishable in the black night.

Ruby red eyes glowed like orbs as the wolf slinked up to Isodell's side. A pleasure filled rumble uttered deep from the beasts throat as her Master petted the wolf with a hard hand as the beast preferred.

She prayed to the Maker Hightower would hurry up some, she still had a lot of things she wanted doing and the dark of the night was the best time for certain activities when all slept soundly.

Alas, it would appear she would be waiting sometime still. Isodell's mind drifted back to the events of the day. To begin with she had bristled at the new King's lack luster response to her bountiful gifts. Whelp! She thought, though she acquiesced he probably meant no disrespect - at least no great disrespect - he was just . . . green.

And then the audacity of that Hightower, to call her a hound. Oh aye, he had moved too quickly for her to deliver him his just deserts to such a statement but the night was still young, one more such comment from his fiendish lips then he would get more then a slap from her. The beast!

And he had put on quite a performance too, taking her hand like a gently bred noble man and placing a kiss atop of it. If it had not been at somewhat her expense then she might have actually enjoyed it.

“The rumours of your Beauty and stormy eyes are true and if I was single then I would ask for hand in marriage unluckily my heart and hand are already spoken for.”

He had declared out loud to which she had yanked her hand out of his grip and replied disdainfully.

“How easily sweet words drip from your lips My Lord, some may say a little too easily . . . You can keep your heart and hand to yourself Ser.”

The rest of the day had passed in pleasant entertainment yet the tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. However, it would appear they could all play pretend.

There was one other thing that vexed her to no ends at least at the time. That was Hightowers boldness to offer his sisters hands bluntly to the King.

Now, however it seemed utterly absurd, she was certain the King must be laughing right now, though at the time she had to give it to him for keep a straight face. To think the King would take to bride a peasant! Because that's what she was, that is what Typhon Sturmaz was.

And even going so far to say she was pure! As pure as any peasant could be Isodell supposed. So the girl was maiden. Well so was Isodell, though married, luckily Clayton FitzWarren her husband had croaked before she had to perform her wifely duties on their wedding night. Even now the thought of lying under Clayton FitzWarren made her feel sick.

However, that was another matter, one she would not ever have to perform thank the Maker. But yes, if Hightower's sister was still maiden then she must most assuredly be an old spinster, no doubt. For Hightower himself must be middle aged, at least forty or more in years, then his sister must be close to his own age.

Would she even be able to produce issue as Hightower had claimed the King needed an heir, or was it just a trick to leave the King without an heir so Hightower could instate his own child . . . or even himself . . .

Not that Hightower would ever be accepted as King. She had no doubt all the warring fractions of Penumbria would come together to remove him from the Throne should the unlikely ever happen . . . Though unlikely it was all food for thought . . . And Isodell liked to look at every angle whether plausible or not . . .

When they had returned, Murdock had slipped her the note and explained what had transpired and what he measures he had already taken in preparations if she so wished to go along with the note.

Of course, she would, her curiosity was much too great . . . maybe it was her weakness but she could not resist a good mystery. Of course, she had kept this information from her dear Uncle, he might have a fit if he found out.

Nay, but she was no fool. Her Knights had scoped the dock area out well in advance, dressed as commoners to not raise suspicion; where she was to met with Typhon Sturmaz and even know they held their positions.

Isodell felt somewhat bad ruining their night. She knew many of them would want to enjoy the delights of Court; the non-stop array of food any time day or night, wenching to their hearts content and so on but they were nothing if not loyal and forbearing.

Blacktyde moved impatiently at her feet. How long had she been waiting?! Typhon Sturmaz would get a good tongue lashing when he finally decided to turn up!

As he entered the inn he met his men. One who now had a hook and a fever and was passed out from the ale and mental fatigue. "So did you find any ravens for my collection, cuckoos for my wife or hives to get honey from" "six ravens, three or four cuckoos, but the only hive we found had too many bees around it. My lord they are ready to pack and load when you give the order". Typhon thought about this the ravens were those military or merchants he could buy loyalty from or who would put a bet on him surviving the civil war and would move to Hightower when he left. The cuckoos were those he could black mail into serving him with family or secrets. The bees were the hardest they were the sailors who thought that the old and new king didn't use them enough and were ready to riot if they did and made it to the king then that would leave a hole the four lords would quickly fill, but if he helped put it down then he could earn the kings trust while weakening his defenses. Of course if he destroyed the mob he would have to kill Jeffry one of his twelve men, and his brother who owned the bar where the leaders met but that was for tomorrow. He got up told them he was going fishing for torchfish; they warned him that they had saw figures that carried themselves as soldiers and not sailors and to be careful of traps.
He left the bar entered a row boat he rented went far enough out that no one could hear him but they could see the lantern he left on. After a while he saw the lady standing on the pier and rowed up to her and with grin that stated that he was laughing at you not with you he said “typically you get in a boat to fish I’m surprised you didn’t look for the lantern in a rowboat. Can you row yourself or do you want a ride to the fishing spot?”
When they were both were at the spot he turned to her and asked “what do you think of the future king? He seems to be missing the drive or fire to lead, he dosnt have the charisma to make people belive in him, nor the iron hand to put us down. You may not like the metaphore of hounds but what are we if not his hunting hounds, rasid to serve him but with the teth to rip him apart if he cant control us. If he had ordered my death I had orders to my men to follow him. he ignores the way I advisd him to follow in our foot steps destroy those in high postions that that he doesn’t trust but what do I get a sword from the person with the most to lose, his chief advisor if anything I hope that my words lit a flame or drove a wedge in his trust of them. What I find most funny was the way your eyes changed when I offered my sister, of course hes going to decline becase if he dies then who will support his grieving widow, her older brother. Not that she needs me much shes older then you by about two years, an almost as cunning. Then again of the five of us you seem to be the one that has the most cuning, im gessing you will let the boys fight then when the winner is licking his wounds you will come up behind and stab him in the back. My final thought is this do you think hes relized that we are all testing him to see if we want to serve him and if he fails then worst case we team up then split the spoils, best case there are five independent countrys?”

When Vaino was in his room his guards handed him the note that they recieved. Fishing? That did not sound conspicuous at all. He went to the library to read the books while he waited for nightfall. When night finally came he called his guards, they got their weapons back, and they departed for the docks. When they arrived there was a row boat waiting for him. He ordered his guards to hide with their bows ready for when he came back. The warden got into the row boat to begin rowing out to the bay.

As he came closer he over heard a conversation between Lady FitzWarren and Hightower. A conversation of treachery and succession, a converation that could be punishable by death. As he arrive near their own boats he stopped and cleared his throat. "Independence you say. Why in the world would you think that I would want the marshes to become an independent country?" He asked Hightower with an eyebrow raised. Independence was a touchy subject with both pros and cons. For the marshes there seemed to be more cons than pros.

Kisandra's eyes snapped open as screams pierced the cold mountain air, "H-help me! Get off of me!". A woman's voice, Kisandra mused as she lay on her bed of furs staring at the roof of her hut which consisted of yet more furs thrown over timber. She wasn't quite sure how long she had been sleeping, but she could see the rays of light peeking through the front flap of her small hovel, but she was content to rest until her mind fully awoke. "Get off my sister!" This time it was a man's voice, and then she sat bolt right as her mind snapped to focus. Not a man, more like a boy, and she understood just what was going on.

Kisandra bolted up right pushing the furs off of her. She was dressed in a red silk shirt, black cotton breeches, and thick sheep skin boots filled with fox fur, all of which she had taken from the corpse of a plump merchants wife. Kisandra learned long ago to never undress when sleeping in the mountains of the Highlands for just furs and a fire weren't enough to keep the frost away. She reached under her pillow, which was just a sack filled with soften wool, to grab her shortsword and buckled it around her waist, before swinging her fur cloak around her shoulders and buckling the clasp. If she had more time, she would put on her armor, but if she did so; she would arrive too late. The female voice called out again, "Conner, please.." Even from a distance, she knew the girl was sobbing like a pathetic wretch, and the boys voice roared in anger, "I swear I will kill you if you touch her!" which was met with howls of laughter.

Pushing back the flap of her hut, Kisandra stepped out and gazed at the sight before her. Her hut was situated on a slight hill overlooking the rest of the camp because, frankly, she trusted none of them and this allowed her to give them the feeling that she was always watching, and usually, she was. A ring of men wearing mostly assortments of furs and armor stood in a large circle, Kisandra picked out the voice of the boy; a handsome enough lad of perhaps seventeen winters was being held down by two large men, and if her memory served correctly they were the brothers: Maverick and Jonah. Not a lick of sense between either of them. They were forcing the lad to watch as another large brute was on top of a woman trying to rip off her clothing, but to the woman's credit; she was putting up quiet a struggle. The large brute was one Kisandra was quite familiar with; a troublemaker and a constant headache for her: Renald. A man who seemed to hate the fact that he had to listen to her, a woman. She allowed herself another quick moment to examine Renald. His face was far from attractive as it was covered in pox marks and scars, and his left hand was missing two fingers. He lost those two fingers the last time he had challenged her. After disarming him, she forced him to beg as she removed those two fingers, to serve as a reminder of why she was in charge.

Kisandra slowly descended the hill, her feet crunching through the snow, and as she neared the members in the circle spotted her and began to move and make a path for her not liking the anger in her eyes, and definitely not wishing to be the poor man that got in her way. Finally making her way to the center, she saw Renald staring to work on the front of his pants trying to undo the ties. Rushing up, she brought her leg up and planted her boot in the side of his face sending him rolling on the ground. To his credit, Renald sprung to his feet quickly drawing his longsword, "Who.." His words slid away as did the color in his face when he realized who he had drawn his sword on; Kisandra threw her head back and started to laugh, "Me." She said finally before drawing her shortsword.

Not wanting to look like a coward, Renald kept his blade up, "Why are you interfering?" He demanded, but Kisandra crouched into her stance and began to move closer keeping her shortsword at the ready, "Why are you talking?" She mused closing in, "Lets have some fun now. I wonder how you are going to piss with one finger." She taunted, and as she drew closer; Renald lost his nerve throwing down his sword, and putting up his hands, his bravado forgotten; "I-I'm sorry, I just meant to have a little sport.. I-its been so long since we have left this.." Renald said trying to explain, and he closed his eyes waiting for that shortsword thrust when Kisandra was mere feet away, but instead, he felt a hand on the side of his face.

Kisandra had to fight down her urge to puke as touching his face was revolting. The pox and scars made him near hideous to look at, and he smelled nearly just as bad. "Oh, I know." She leaned up to whisper, "Trust me, I know." Despite her soft tone, Renald couldn't suppress the shivers that ran down his spine, but they were forgot as he pitched forward and groaned in pain as something smashed into his groin. Kisandra had smashed her knee into the fork between his legs as she had him distracted and quickly pulled herself from his path as he fell to his knees.

"But what did I say!" She roared before kicking him in the ribs and sending him rolling on his back. Her yelling was more for the benefit of those watching, "What did I say!?" Kisandra demanded again, but Renald was still wheezing and so couldn't answer, "I told you not to touch the virgin, didn't I?" When Renald didn't respond, Kisandra dropped herself on his chest sending out what little air he had managed to collect, "Didn't I!" She demanded again stabbing her shortsword into the ground next to his head. Renald managed to nod, his eyes wide in terror.

Kisandra pulled back her fist and sent it crashing down into his nose, the sound of something cracking filled the air as blood spurted from his nose and onto his furs, but she didn't stop as she continued to rain fist down smashing his face and doing nothing to improve his looks, "You stupid." She said as she hit him again and again, "Son of a whore!"

Grabbing her shortsword, she got off the man who started turned over and started to try and crawl away, his survival instincts telling him to flee, and she let him flee. Kisandra turned to look at the ring of men before pointing her blade at the young woman, "Do you have any idea how much a virgin is worth!? Do you!?" She said, "More then any of you dogs are worth to me."

Kisandra pointed to two of the men to pick up Renald, "Clean that filth up."

"T-thank you." The woman said, looking up at her with a sickening hope in her eyes. Not wanting to damage the goods and strike her face, Kisandra opted to kick her in the stomach, "Shut your mouth, worm."

The boy who had been silent before screamed at her, "I'll kill you, you bitch!" Kisandra snapped her eyes at the young man struggling against the bandits holding him down, and she flashed a smile, Renalds blood staining some of her teeth, "Jonah. Let him up." The two brothers scrambled off and joined the circle happy to have been excluded from her rage, Kisandra threw her sword at the boys face, the blade sticking in the ground a few feet away. "Pick it up. Let us see what your made of boy."

Finally... the coronation was over, everything went smoothly but then the thoughts of his vassals were still lingering in his mind. Was it a good first impression? Typhon was very open and showed discontent towards him, the Witch merely playing around with his mind. The maker has not granted him trust, it would be a impossible feat to siege Langsmerth and take it with a lone force, the garrison alone was five thousand and with the support of other vassals plus local militia and Banns the manpower would reach a staggering thirty thousand within a few days march. He did not fear within his own walls but of the walls of others, what is a king if he simply hides in his castle? Out of all the vassals he could only trust with semi confidence Maul. House Theongor were always humble vassals. But what if it not the case now?

"His majesty arrives!"

It was tradition that a newly crowned king rides through Langsmerth greeting and connecting with the commonfolk. It is a grand event the king was followed by the legendary Crimson Guard with their signature dark red silk robes and their terrifying helmets that covered their entire face only showing a slit of their eyes. Virgil sat on Thunder albeit slightly uncomfortable, his fathers armour was cooking him alive, it was too heavy for liking. The Guard flanked all of his sides, it was hard to see anything, that pretty much made the point of the march redundant. The walkways were filled with commonfolk chanting and cheering.

"Move aside, let me reach my people." Two guard towered in front of him, they turned around.

"I highly advise your majesty that you stay in the middle here, it is too dangerous."

"I do not heed your advice, move aside you two.:

Qunten rode after him, almost running over a crowd of people. "What's wrong with your head boy?" Qunten held his shield over his chest ready to bounce if any was to happen. The crowd was cheering even louder, the chants faster. The people were inspired, their own leader in shining armour fitting of heroes of the legends told. He knew that a sneaky shot from a crossbow could end his life but why did it matter, his people were more important. Virgil moved closer to the sides of the street with several guards chasing after him. "Protect his majesty!" Virgil swung down from his horse hanging from the stirrup hi-fiving the crowd. "The king, the king, his majesty!" a most bold maneuver even Qunten could agree.

"Enough, get his majesty back we are reaching the old town." Qunten said. The Old Town was the poorest part of the city filled with outcasts and the homeless. Guards then attempted to pull him back into the bulk of the convoy.

"Hands off, i am your king."

"Your majesty we are all worried for your safety."

He did not bother, Thunder went into full gallop. Qunten and a squad of guards rode quickly. The crowd roared. Virgil took off his helmet showing his beautiful hair and bright face.

---

The day was done, Qunten spared him a lecture almost grinning Just like your father. Virgil rested in his study in front of a fireplace.

“Do not think just because I say nothing to your obsinities that I will not strike you Lord Hightower. Does it look like I ever fish?!? It's bad enough that you call me out to such a spot in the dead of night. You should just be happy that I showed up at all! And as I recall your note said nothing about getting in a damn boat!” Isodell growled at the beast of a man that was Typhon Sturmaz as she stepped into the boat, concealed in a hooded cloak, lantern in hand and Blacktyde steadfastly at her side.

Isodell's cold eyes sized up the Hightower Warden in silent displeasure as he rowed them to their isolated destination.

“What do you think of the future king? He seems to be missing the drive or fire to lead, he doesn't have the charisma to make people believe in him, nor the iron hand to put us down. You may not like the metaphor of hounds but what are we if not his hunting hounds, raised to serve him but with the teeth to rip him apart if he cant control us. If he had ordered my death I had orders to my men to follow him. He ignores the way I advised him to follow in our foot steps destroy those in high positions that he doesn’t trust but what do I get a sword from the person with the most to lose, his chief advisor if anything I hope that my words lit a flame or drove a wedge in his trust of them. What I find most funny was the way your eyes changed when I offered my sister, of course he's going to decline because if he dies then who will support his grieving widow, her older brother. Not that she needs me much she's older then you by about two years, an almost as cunning. Then again of the five of us you seem to be the one that has the most cunning, I'm guessing you will let the boys fight then when the winner is licking his wounds you will come up behind and stab him in the back. My final thought is this do you think he's realized that we are all testing him to see if we want to serve him and if he fails then worst case we team up then split the spoils, best case there are five independent country’s?”

“My Lord you wound me with your rash judgment of my character. I'm as innocent as the first snow fall of the winter. However one cannot fault his Majesty for not taking your advice.” Isodell commented on a sneer.

So the Lord Hightower was sharper then the blunt brute he appeared to be; guessing a small part of her plan. But she was not a woman to lay her cards out on the table.

“As for the Kings realizing the testing of his abilities . . . Well, however should I know? I am doing no such thing. I am solely here to serve my Liege Lord and celebrate his accession to the Throne . . . And let's just say for arguments sake that worst came to War then why ever my Lord would I settle for an independent split realm when I could have it all.” Isodell replied sweetly, her wicked smile looking even more menacing and dangerous in the low lantern light.

Aye, she would never settle for less then all. Isodell watch the working of Hightowers mind in his eyes. He was trying to make out whether she jested or told the truth. It pleased her immensely. Let him keep guessing . . . For she would never tell . . .

"Independence you say. Why in the world would you think that I would want the marshes to become an independent country?" Isodell and Typhon turned sharply to face the intruding voice.

Vanio Sivareth.

“It is not a becoming trait to lurk and listen in on a conversation like a nosy servant Lord Marshes.” Isodell greeted him non-surplussed. “Pray, tell us then My Lord why does Lord Hightower's note bring you here in the dead of night then? Morbid curiosity?”

With the smile of a hunter he answered with a giant laugh “if you’re that innocent then I am the son of a highborn, and the swamp lord can’t take humidity well. You underestimate me I’m blunt, not stupid, how else could I rise so far from my station. We all want the kingdom but if war come we all run into the same problem what happens when you have to go up against four other armies’s, you either allow them to fight till their weak, or try to survive with the supplies you have in your fortress. None of us can win alone, but in war I would put all my money on him losing, which I technically would be doing. To your question lord of the swamp, you may not want it but that just means that you will serve someone else or at best a partnership with someone. To why we’re in a damn boat it so that we can be heard and those that might follow us, if the king is wise, will see us but not be able to tell what we discussed.” He took a pole out the water and pulled out a fish and threw it in the swamp lord’s boat, at seven feet long and glowing with neon light and cast the line out again. “There, don’t fuss about the fish in your boat that there is a cover story and a trophy it’s too big to fit on my boat with the lady and her mutt. If you both don’t have anything to put into this conversation other than judging what I’m saying then I think this meeting is over. If you want to have a meeting then just go the tavern The Mermaids Den and tell the barkeeper that you want a lantern fishing buddy before I leave.”

Vaino heard a lot of nonsense but not much talk for business. What he really wanted to hear was Hightower's proposition of benefits for an alliance. He would need compansation for the expenses for raising his massive armies, promise of lands, and a promise of extra supplies during wartime. The last time the marshes were involved in a war, the warden did not recieve any aid from the crown.

"If I make an alliance I would like to know that the marshes would gain something. Wars are never cheap so I need to know that there would be something that would compensate the exspenses. Then I would need to know what you two would have to bring to the table." Vaino said. After Hightower and Isodell answered his question he would depart.

Wiping the dust and sweat off his brow Maul glanced at the new buildings that adorned Silverstone. He last visited as a boy, a dramatic change was apparent today. The streets are getting wider and the houses taller, yet the smell of mining dust remained in the air. Maul's father, Isu Theongor, had always visited to pay homage to the fallen from the Great Struggle, many of whom were buried a mere half day away from Silverstone.

Paying homage was of secondary import today, Maul wished to talk with the young leader of Silverstone and man of rising fame. The Highland Hunt was fast approaching and Maul wanted Bann Silverstone to enter Sundara Gorge by his side. It is a position reserved for only one other person in the realm besides the King. To be invited as the guest of honour and hunting partner of the Lord of the Highlands has never been something offered lightly or frequently. Maul wished to foster stronger ties between the Highlands and Silverstone. It also wouldn't hurt to bolster the trade of timber from the Highlands into Silverstone.

The midday heat forced him to adjust his dark brown trousers, and to spur on his horse towards the renovated castle of Atomsk Deudermont on the edge of town. It felt great to be away from Langsmerth and all the squabbling and scheming among the other Wardens. He desired no part in their plans. His dues were paid to the new king, and he did not wish to spend a day longer away from the Highlands. Loyalty to the new king had been sworn, and can only be broken once the king steps outside the powers accorded him after the Rebellion.

Dismounting at the steps Maul handed the reins to an approaching servant. He wondered what the young Bann was like. He surely was turning Silverstone around.

“Why to have an alliance, what do you mean besides having an army twice the size and strength of your opponents, the ability to travel fast over the water, the high economic rewards of having the biggest and strongest navy on the island, I guess nothing.” He rowed his boat in and took the lantern fish out of the swamp lords boat “I’m leaving in three days, tomorrow I’m meeting the king again, no more jokes tonight leave any more with the barkeep he’s one of my men’s cousins and likes to tell me jokes. If you want to tell me the jokes in person schedule another fishing trip with the bar keep.” Ignoring the other two he went to his room and slept, thinking over his thoughts. The lady was smart and if he and her teamed up he could only trust her so far before she would stab him in the back. The lord was more trustworthy and would make a good partner overall, but how good could he lead troops was the question.

He walked to the palace gate and ended up back in a meeting room. The thought that stood out in his mind was now I will see the kind of man, the whelp is.

Ostel entered the room with two other hooded figures. "A moment, Ostel." Virgil flicked his fingers and put more wood into the fire, he turned around, nodded and signaled the two gentlemen to leave.

I assume by standing here you done the task i asked?

"Indeed your majesty my spies came up with some disturbing speculations from their observations..."

"Enough with the words, explain."

"We tracked each of their lordships...in their day to day activity, nothing out of the ordinary until tonight your majesty..."

Ostel moved closer to Virgil leaning into his ears.

"Sturmaz that grinning bastard went to the docks and hopped onto a small boat and went off. The fog was too thick to see where he was heading. A few hours later that ice whore was seen heading into the direction of the docks but that wolf of her could of smelled us out if we got too close. That swamp bastard Vaino Sivareth abit later was seen heading in that direction also. Unless all of em enjoy the night sea breeze what else?" For a moment Virgil leaned back on his chair in disbelief."

"You are saying.....they are scheming behind my back? How preposterous!"

"You missed the point your majesty, it is not them, it's that pirate bastard. He should be ridden of, just as he said to you personally. Stop a conflict before it could start!"

"Ostel, you are being blinded by anger. It is a most heinous crime to kill a vassal of the realm with no just cause! Speculations Ostel, I wish for hard true facts before I can pull the strings."

Ostel was clearly frustrated, he politely bowed and left the room. "Excuse me your majesty...". He was not going to give up, only one person controlled the shadows within Langsmerth, that was him. "Someone will not leave these walls alive." Hooded figures formed a circle, huddling around. He knew the consequences of what he was about but it mattered not, death to Typhon Sturmaz was the only thing on his mind. "Get him where he least expects it, not when he is alone, when he is with other people." The hooded figures then brandished their weapons "Death to he!" There were nine of them, all bloodthirsty. "Get some good rest lads..."

When Vaino rowed back to the docks he signaled his guards in hiding to come back to him. When all three were by his side again he turned to one.

"Find the Prince and ask him if he could meet with me privately tonight. Not tomorrow. Tonight." He told his guard. The guard immediatly deparched to find the prince. The warden did not like Hightower at all. To much of a brute. When asked of the benefits of an alliance he was to vague. Hightower was not rich with resources like the Lowlands so a navy was all that he could provide. No doubt that his economy would depend on theft and pirating, one that could not last.

Vaino needed a trustworthy ally as well as a powerful one so he would prefer to ally himself with the prince. He only had one demand, one that could could be either small or large in the eyes of the prince. He walked with his guards back to his quarters as he waited for a message back from the prince.