Isles of Penumbria

Maul had never been as happy to walk into Langsmerth as he was right now. The safety of the walls and the presence of the guards were reassuring. The dark streets of the city were still alive with prostitutes and drunk sailors looking for a quiet corner or cheap room. The Highlanders were exhausted, having used back roads through remote villages to eventually reach Langsmerth just before midnight. Maul still had no idea who dared to attack him, but he did not wish to run into more trouble hence the precaution. One thing was certain, he was going try his best to find out who was responsible and make them pay!

Without regard to his torn clothes and haggard appearance, Maul entered the palace. It was fortunate that Gortas still carried the banner of House Theongor, otherwise entrance into the city and palace might have proven difficult or perhaps impossible. Maul immediately requested an audience with the King early tomorrow morning. "Could you arrange for a physician to come and look at my men. We were attacked on the road and some of them are very weak from their wounds." Maul asked the black robed warrior. He had heard that these men were called Executioners. "I have one further request, we were attacked as we crossed the river Orand on the King's Highway. I lost thirteen good men, among them Bann Liutus. Could you please dispatch a company of men to go and see of they can recover the bodies of my men so they can be given proper burials back home in the Highlands. And inform me tomorrow morning whether they were successful. I would be most grateful, as would the fallen warriors and their families."

With that Maul allowed himself to be led away to his quarters within the palace. He wished he could personally go and recover his fallen warriors, but it was imperative that he be with the young King during this time of crisis. The House of Theongor and that of House Madriach had deep ties, ties which need to be strengthened and protected. Maul wished to continue his father's alliance with and fealty towards the Madriach family. A relationship that has always been based on trust, something Maul needed to build with the young King Virgil, and vice versa.

The grand assembly went better than expected, the gasps and faces of the people hilarious as usual.

"By the Maker's hand why did you give that bitch a title and the swamp licker titles?!" Virgil and Qunten were in the King's study.

"We give the 'bitch' a title that technically does not belong to her and the 'swamp licker' a load of solid wood. By giving Vaino the title we keep him occupied, I know he will start working on creating roads and improving them and from here to Sundregn it ain't a short distance. Now with Isodell since he holds the title she is expected to 'defend' her righteous land thus meaning she will be forced into a conflict with Sturmaz regardless, if somehow she refuses her credibility and reputation will fall below what it is now..."

"You think it's that simple?"

"Should be since I devised the whole thing."

"I walked past Ostel's residence and he gave me this letter personally addressed to you..." Qunten slid the letter across the table.

"Dear Your Majesty,

I plead for your mercy, My mind is restless and my heart fleeting for as long as I cannot serve you, I feel worthless a lack of purpose in living.

Worldly bliss lasts but a moment;
it is here then it disappears.
The longer I experience it,
the less value I find in it.
For it is mingled with cares,
with sorrows, and with failures;
and in the end it leaves man poor and naked
when it departs.
All the bliss here and there
amounts, in the end, to weeping and moaning."
(Not my work, 13th century song)

"I will sleep on it, rest assured."

The flames in the hearth roared bringing the room to life. Shadows playing across the stonewalls and tapestries. The scones sparsely hanging on the walls emitting a low ghostly glow.

“Will there be anything else my Lady?” The maid who lit the hearth asked timidly, head bowed in reverence.

“No, that will be all for tonight.” Isodell replied as she strolled towards the maid throwing her red velvet cloak haphazardly onto the bed as she closed in on the maid and then silently slipped two crowns into the girls palms. “Good night.” She smiled.

The young girl looked down into her palm surprised at Isodell's generosity.

“T-thank you my Lady and a good night to you too.” She stammered looking back up at Isodell's pale complexion glowing in the fire light before scampering away leaving Isodell alone in her chamber.

“Come Blacktyde.” She commanded of the Wolf Bitch who lay on her bed, head resting on her paws. “I think Court life has been a little too good to you. You've been indulging yourself in too many vices of late. Sleeping and eating to your hearts content and no exercise.” Isodell chided the huge Wolf who merely yawned in response. “Fine. Then I shall go on my own. Lazy Beast! You just wait till we go back home to Arv Rondalion.”

Moving towards the far wall of her chamber, Isodell pulled the large tapestry that cover almost the whole wall aside. Ah, just as she remembered. A calculating smile curved up Isodell's lips as she picked up the lantern that sat on a trunk.

The same lantern Isodell remembered with venom as the one used on the night befores folly with Sturmaz! Well, what little it mattered now? She would have his head on a stake soon enough, Isodell soothed herself as she stepped through the hidden passageway.

Langsmerth Castle was no stranger to her. She had often come to court as a child with her parents, stayed in this very room. She almost knew Langsmerth as well as she knew Arv Rondalion. And she knew Arv Rondalion like the back of her hand. Though admittedly it had been a great many years since she'd last been here but her memory would suffice for what she planned for the excursion she planned for the night.

Weaving her way through the dark hidden back passages of Langsmerth lit sole by the dim lantern light Isodell soon enough found her destination. The room blazed in glorious light even in the dead of night. Isodell was awed and dumbstruck even now as she had been as a child when she's first stumbled upon the Great Library.

A feast for the mind. All of the knowledge in Penumbria could be found in this never ending room, Isodell's thoughts wondered as she stepped through another doorway hidden by a tapestry depicting some great war scene.

Alas, she did not have time to loiter as much as she wished to do so. She knew what she was looking for and exactly where to find it. Grabbing the five thick scrolls of rolled up vellum Isodell stuffed them under her arms and quickly like a silent ghost that had never been disappeared through the tapestry.

Her feet like a courser who knew it's path returned her to her chamber . . . Or so Isodell thought in her haste.

With her mind fixed solely on the task at hand. Isodell threw the scrolls down on the clean linens of the bed, finding the one she wanted to see first as she sunk down onto the bear fur in her fine red silk gown before the blazing hearth and unrolled the long parchment.



The flames licking her flawless skin as Isodell's violet eyes flickering down the tree following the decent of her index finger on the parchment. A smile cracked her pretty lips as she saw what she longed to see . . . No heir . . .

The boy King unless he produced issue was last in his line. It wasn't that Isodell wished his down fall but should he die then she needed to make sure it was she who had the strongest claim to the throne. Which she did. But one could never be too careful. She would rather have all her facts right when the time came.

Now to check the other House Tree's she had brought with her. Dynasty Sivareth, Theongor, De Hugh and FitzWarren. The last two her own, of which she had copies of back at Arv Rondalion and the other three she would have copies made of before she returned them back to the great library.

Sturmaz's wife's family tree she did not even bother with seeing as she would be stubbing him out soon enough. Throne?! He would not even see her blade cutting his throat! Isodell thought with a cold smile as she scanned the Madriach family tree again.

Isodell half sat half lay there in the fire light with the scrolls of vellum not taking in the small details that usually would not escape her expert eyes such as the scones that had been lit in her chamber were not lit here or that her cloak and her Wolf were missing from the bed . . . Not realizing she had ended up in the wrong chamber . . .In someone else's chamber . . .

Restless in sleep as he was restless in life, Hypnos refused his plead. Virgil stumbled out of bed and out onto the chamber balcony. He overlooked the city, It was at rest apart from the occasional flickering light of whatever mischief was being caused down there, unlike Sundregn which never rested and flourished at night, Langmerth had an eerie silence a moment for the scum of society to shine. He had an urge to return to Sundregn for the annual carnival, perhaps Vaino could taste some of his local pleasures or even better visit every major city in Penumbria. There was much to be done yet it seemed that time was running much faster than he was. Tomorrow he will meet with Maul Theongor to officially make their acquaintances.

Langsmerth
The last of the pirates in the capital was ready for the plan with the few people loyal to the lord high tower they got torches out and split up to the warehouse district. With a key from a lower merchant that had left of one of the ships they set the building up to burn. When they left the warehouse they left an unlucky guard that had followed them in an alley next to the soon to be on fire warehouse. They headed to the docks, and picked up makeshift weapons. They headed to one of the rivals bars on the docks, and started a brawl which spread through the docks.


Somewhere between Langsmerth and Arv Rondalion
One of the surviving groups who hadn’t attacked early had seen the message flags for plan b, but they had found one of the farming villages where they sometimes stole food. This time was different this time the razed it to the ground took or ruined the food and salted the field with the supplies they had stolen, the town had had, and the stockpile that had been given by the lord Hightower. When they were done they left the bodies in the burning houses heading out to meet other groups that were supported by Hightower, or villages that made or stored food.


On the Aspidochelone
The merchant ship had overtaken his battleship before he had reached the pirate city; he hadn’t even made it to the eastern island. With the news they had brought him of the other lords most likely making him the enemy, did not change too many plans. By now he had probably been stripped of title, the problem was enforcing it, the only one of his nobles that might listen was his wife, but the ones he had left would make sure she didn’t do something stupid. He didn’t have to fight with his agents on land destroying the food and supplies and with his ships making sure that the supplies from across the sea didn’t make it to the island. He wouldn’t have to fight just wait till the army or peasants rise against the other lords. The ones that would be a problem would be the marshes and the highlands, the high lands may have food stored underground and the marshes would be hard to take because of all the animals.

She was next in line for the Throne. There was no doubt about that. Isodell mused happily as she was warmed by the hearth. Not that she craved the Crown but truth be told who better then her to rule Penumbria if death should take the new King?

She had army, legion, food supplies, abundance of coin to fight for a good lifetime or two, the will to conquer and an Iron fist for those who wished to test her might. She was insurmountable. Of course Isodell did not wish it to come to War. She herself was a child and the blood embodiment of War. That between the De Hugh's and FitzWarren until her marriage brought peace over the Lowlands. Aye she had seen the ills of War and they did not please her. Innocents killed and murdered in cold blood. Women raped, children orphaned. That was the true cost of War.

One she did not wish on her conscious.

But that did not mean she would not fight, if there was no other option. She would just rather divert matters then let a full blown battle arise.

A subtle sound much like a boar grunting caught Isodell's attention as she whipped her head around and gasped in surprise.

Her violet eyes resting on a large figure laying on the bed peering at her with curious eyes. A guilty look played over Isodell's features like a child caught with her hand in the sweet salt as she looked between the pieces of parchment and the giant rogue in her bed.

Her bed!

And realized she had nothing to feel or look guilty about. This was her chamber! Had he been here all along? Surely she would have noticed a great big lout like him coming in or even noticed him in her bed as she enter her room again? How could she have missed something so . . . masculine . . . and half naked in her bed!

“How dare you!?”

Isodell commanded shooting up onto her feet in a flurry of crimson silk, hands propped on her waist. Peering down at the beast of a man in all of his glory with cold studying eyes. His long dark hair resting on his shoulders framing a dark devilishly handsome face, to his chiseled chest that looked solid as stone and down below that was luckily covered with bed sheets.

She'd never seen a man that naked in her life before! And could not deny she was more then a little awestruck and curious . . .

Clayton, her husband had met his ultimate end thank the Maker before she had to be subjected to his pawing, leaving her a virgin widow only a few hours after they were bound in matrimony; much against Isodell's will.

“What the devil do you think you're doing in my bed?”

"Might as well wait for the sun..." Virgil pushed himself unwillingly out of bed and quickly slid on his signature red velvet jacket. Wandering the castle pitch black has always been one of his naughty secrets, peeping into the chambers of young ladies, scarring Tigernan when he works in the library and a whole list of other shenanigans, though not today or ever again. He planned to spend the rest of the darkness in the library by himself, never a big reading fan but the Grand Library had everything in the world you needed to read about and it was always satisfying to pick up a two hundred year old book and read the hardly intelligible text, how fast language changes. He equipped himself with an ivory handled stiletto, even though the guards roamed the larger corridors it was highly possible for a person to still sneak through, no need for that through he owned the castle.

Virgil slowly opened the door as it creaked, the door guards turned towards him. "Mind me not gentlemen, I will spend the rest of the night in the library." The guards nodded then one said "Your Majesty, do you not need some protection?" to which Virgil replied "If something happens to me, your friends ain't doing their job right and heads may be lopped off."

He enters the library curious of the figure on the table dressed in black with a sword mounted on his back, obviously an executioner.

"Hail!" the burly man shifted his body to Virgil "Y...your Majesty, why not rest for the tasks ahead?" Virgil took a chair sat besides the man. "If I am not mistaken and apologies if that is so, you must be Klaus." the Executioner was extremely humbled "Please, I am nothing of interest to Your Majesty." Virgil snapped back almost instantly "You are now!" he moved his seat closer to Klaus in which Klaus moved back. "Space your majesty?" Virgil smiled You are too humble, tonight we are brother and brother." Klaus nodded and moved back into place. "Your majesty...a thousand pardons..." He found it unusual, a large man as him softer than the ladies of the court and that's not counting his profession as an executioner. "Klaus, I am bored of the other elements of the court such as powerful lords, rich merchants, beautiful women and the sly ones who have everything planned in their mind. Much of my life I've spend in the slums of Sundregn getting drunk on cheap wine and beer and bedding mediocre looking gals every night, I see a man as a man and nothing more. Out of morbid curiosity, I know nothing of yourself or your dreaded profession, please enlighten me on such topic."

"As you wish your majesty. My full name is Klaus Abrigen, my father and his father were also executioners and being born as it is there was nothing else one could do but take up my fathers profession, and perhaps you are wondering your majesty, I indeed have children, three precisely. I am half priest and half mercy giver. When you kill someone their spirit is angered and thus directed at you in battle however that does not happen. Everyday I conduct rituals to correct my positioning of my spirit and to cleanse myself of the evil spirits that lurk around and within. No doubt I live a most comfortable life your majesty, I get paid much more than what someone working in the kitchen earns however I am forsaken to complete isolation from the public, I am often targeted for attacks by the loved ones of the executed, I am proud and fear not the wrath of those living and thus I wear nothing to cover my face as per tradition of the Abrigen family." Klaus placed his sword across the table.

"A day begins with the Jailer or Judicator giving me the names of those who are condemned, then one by one they are called up and given to the Maker for further judgement. That is it your majesty, I cannot thank you enough."

They then continued to discuss poetry and the general aspects of life. Perhaps the only time he ever enjoyed a talk since he left Sundregn.

Isodell tried her hardest to restrain her mouth from gaping at Warden Stormkeer's words. But in the end it was like battling to walk against blustering winds.

Stormkeer!

She still could not quite digest it. Him, before her! How the devil was she suppose to know it was him? She'd never laid eyes on him before in her entire life. And what had he just said to her? . . . tomorrow is another long and busy day for me, not that you would know anything about that . . .

Isodell's eyes narrowed on the man as her temper caved at his audacity and she took two short strides to his bed side; the soft of her palm striking him across the face. Not as hard as she would have preferred but enough to teach the great lout a lesson on comportment and how to speak to a Lady of her rank.

“That.” Isodell snapped down at him. “Is for implying that I do nothing and wile my days away!”

So what he was handsome?! But at the core of it he was nothing then a brutish Highlander. Savage and wild. And savage creatures needed taming and Isodell knew exactly how to do that.

“And for your kind information My Lord-” Isodell was about to continue with her tirade to put him in his place when he grimaced and grunted in pain again as he shuffled in his position on the bed again.

Isodell frowned as her eyes followed to where his large hands moved down to his waist. A large wound on his side began to color the sheets as crimson as her gown. She wasted no time as she pushed him to lie on his back to examine the wound better.

It had been stitched competently enough and the stitching was still intact but his constant wriggling had set the wound a jar from it's healing setting it to bleed freely again.

His skin a little too warm to the touch. A mild fever. Brought on by the wound she guessed but he was a great big boy, he would survive a fever. The problem was if the wound became infected.

“Fool!” Isodell chided Maul Theongor like a errant child as Stormkeer wriggled once more obviously in discomfort. “The stitching is not split but if you keep at it then it surely will! Do you wish to die from infection? Be still!”

She ordered him as she pressed the bed sheet against his wound to halt the blood flow. Stormkeer groaned and gritted his teeth against the pain and Isodell felt almost sorry for him. Almost . . . It was his own fault after all, he should have laid still to begin with.

“Have one of the maids bandage a thick slice of mouldy old bread over the wound.” She advised in an almost caring tone fighting the urge to sooth him like one would a child.

Remembering some of her herbs and potions training by her mother. The womanly arts; duties and knowledge of a wife to a battle Lord. Though Isodell had never had to use the education herself but many a time she had seen her mother bandage her fathers wounds with slices of mouldy bread and it always worked to quickly heal the wound and cleanly at that.

When Maul Theongor looked at her like a crazy woman, Isodell simply smiled.

“Think me mad now My Lord but tell me the results after you have tried it. It is ancient knowledge, handed down by womenfolk. T'will stop the wound from festering and allow for clean rapid healing, stopping your untimely death . . . As, we wouldn't want that now would we?”

“Ahem!”

It was then someone cleared their throat and it wasn't the Lord Highlander or the Lady Lowlander. Isodell's head whipped around from her precarious position at Maul's side to see Murdock standing there, looking rumpled. His red hair messed and a thin shadow of a red beard coming through around the lower portion of his face.

“A thousand pardons my Lady, I tried looking everywhere for you . . .” Murdock continued looking rather embarrassed and in disbelief to find his Mistress in such a scandalous position as he took a step forward. “But what the devil are you doing in Lord Stormkeer's chambers?!” He couldn't help questioning in a fierce whisper at Isodell's ear.

“Lord Stormkeer's?! But this is my chamber! You should be questioning why this big brute is in my bed!” She shot back at her right hand man.

“If that is so my Lady,” Murdock ventured looking rather sheepish. “then where are your trunks and where is the Bitch Blacktyde?”

“Well-” Isodell began looking around the room to realize the truth of Murdock's words.

Blast! What a fool she had been! How the devil could this have happened?!? Fool! A great big green fool she had been in her haste! It was not like her to make such a idiotic mistake.

Gathering what little dignity and pride she felt she had left at the moment, Isodell straightened her back, masking her ire at her own folly with a haughty countenance.

“Is there a reason you have come searching for me in the dead of night Murdock?”

“Aye, my Lady. A great disturbing reason indeed.” Murdock spoke emphatically. “The Pirates sent by that scum Sturmaz, the ones we believed we had all either destroyed out at sea or captured and sentenced to death . . . Well it would appear more had survived and escaped then we had first anticipated. These few believed to on the orders of that cur leader of theirs Sturmaz had began destroying farms and fields and villages close to Langsmerth. Those of our own and the Kings.”

The lutanist string of obscenities and curses that left Isodell's lips could have made a Sailor cover his ears and blush as Murdock cringed, his eyes taking a quick glance of the Highlander Lord and grinned at the look playing across the man's face.

“Sturmaz!” Isodell roared in her fit of temper, her fists clenching painfully not caring she had an audience. “That fiend wishes his death at the end of my sword quicker then a fly that ventures into a blazing fire out of it's own folly. Tell me these fools have been taken care of.” Isodell commanded of Murdock.

“Aye, my Lady.” He answered. “The bastards have been caught and are rotting in the King's Dungeon as we speak. Waiting on their trial on the morrow.”

“On the morrow.” She seconded coldly as her gaze rested on the hearth for a long moment.

Isodell's blazing anger sooth the slightest with the knowledge that the destruction of her lands had been halted momentarily. Sturmaz wanted a war, then she would give him one! The King must surely see now that it was not enough to strip the man of rank but to destroy him.

“Murdock, grab those scrolls and let us away.” Isodell ordered as she grabbed her lantern and glided towards the tapestry.

It would be scandalous if she left through the chamber door and someone was to see. Servants after all gossiped like old women and one ill devised rumour was all it took to bring ruin on a woman's reputation. Blast it all!

Turning, Isodell look across to the devilishly handsome Highlander laying on the bed peering at her. He was a Highlander . . . A savage . . . But for what she had in mind, she may very well need to concede and need his help. No matter how bitter the taste in her mouth from allying herself with the Cloud people but her forefathers had done the same. Their enmities put to one side for a common goal.

“On the morrow, my Lord.” Isodell cooed sweetly with a smile. “Let us break our fast together. There is much to be discussed.” She curtsied lowly before moving the Tapestry aside to reveal a hidden passage way and then looked back across at the Higlander with roguish smile. “Remember my Lord, mouldy bread.” Winking; Isodell swept through the passageway, gone just as she had came.

Murdock grabbed four scrolls, not realizing he had missed one that was propped against the hearth side as he grinned at Lord Stormkeer.

“Works a trick my Lord.” He smiled. “The mouldy bread that is. A Lowland secret.”

Moving towards the Tapestry with the four scrolls under his arm.

“A pleasant sleep to you my Lord . . . Not too plagued, I hope.” He grinned knowingly as he bowed and exited after his Mistress leaving the Tapestry rustling in his wake.

Arv Rondalion
As a merchant ship passed waving the signal flag for plan b the fisherman rowed in to the city and ran into a bar, heading straight to the back room. With the signal from the flag they spoke of what the plan was most people here were completely loyal, again some merchants would be sailing out today but the news of an inventor that had created a new water weapon was important to kill or capture.

Again the warehouse district was set on fire but instead of a dock riot, the inventors house was broken into and the guards killed, some of the group ran to the boat with all the papers they could find, while the others busted in a door where they found the inventor “come with us or die, don’t worry if you come with our boss has uses for you.”


Arv Stormkeep
As the giant ship passed the city a scene like in rondalion played, again merchants were the few that they were able to buy off. A fire and the riot played out like in the capital, but with less bars the middleclass and temples were dragged into the fight.

Langsmerth
The servant brought up some spiced wine and meat from the kings personal cooks, along with some for the lord of the highlands. What the servant didn’t know was that it had been laced with the drugs by the traitor paid off by sturmaz. He knocked on the door calling that food had been brought for the king and his guest.

The warm blood washed over his hand like waves on a beach yet this was no crystal blue water but the life force of a man. The sword cleaved through flesh with deadly ease, it's master hacking down those before him effortlessly. The mighty war horse breathed out large billows of smokey air in the chill night air. Atop the stallion strode the greatest hero of recent account, the man who had never tasted defeat at another man's hands, The Lion, Lord Commander Alistair Vakarian.

Alistair pulled his masterfully crafted blade from the corpse of a pirate as his men flooded the city. Hooves and the pounding of soldiers boots resounded in the night as the screams of the surprised pirates sounded in the twilight hour. They did not know, they could not know that the Lord Commander's network of spies were as skilled as they were. Despite his expert spies the infamous Rondalion General arrived with his men minutes too late.

Unsure of what the pirates were after he rode in heavy with men ready to hack down all intruders. Hack down they did for as Vakarian led his troops through the city they soaked the soil with the blood of the sea rats. Some were fool enough to charge at them, cutlass or axe in hand only to have their belly opened by a knights blade or to find a spear in their chest. The Lion was at the head of his men, riding through the tiny coastal village atop a magnificent white stallion. His keen eyes scanning the failing light for signs of his enemies. Those who fell in his field of vision were swiftly struck down. This was no battle, this was an extermination yet something tugged at his confidence for in the recesses of his mind Alistair knew this was too easy. Cowards, thieves and knifemen were the bulk of a pirate force true enough but there was always a tenacity to them when fighting them in a group. This was sloppy, unorganized, as if Alistair was merely getting a hold of stragglers who'd wandered away from the main group looking for plunder. His fears were proven right as his war horses hooves met the beach sand.

"Bloody pirates..."

Alistair cursed aloud as he clenched his fist in anger. He was forced to watch helplessly as the pirates rowed off with their prize. A prisoner that had long spent his days in the dungeons just outside Arv Rondalion. It was here that the genius Bang Cordinus worked night and day on his wonderous inventions for his Lady, Isodell FitzWarren. The achievements of Cordinus have contributed greatly to the success of the Lowlands in the past few years helping The Warden to turn her territory around from an impoverished, divided land into a shining example of prosperity and splendor.

Alistair's men were cleaning up the last of the sea vermin that had been left when The Lion rode in at the head of a Legion. Alistair had no intention of slaying all of them now, not until he found out what information he could get from them if any.

"Mormond."

Alistair said as he turned his attention away from the water and to the dying pirates on the shore. One of The Lord Commander's favored lieutenants was a man in his mid forties whose experience on the battlefield was well documented and his loyalty to his general was beyond question. Walter Mormond ran to Alistair's side and looked up at his commanding officer dutifully.

"Yes sir?"

"Round up four or five. We'll see what honor there is among thieves when we begin to fillet them alive."

"Aye sir."

Mormond said dutifully with a quick salute before rushing off to carry out his general's orders. Alistair watched as his men began to collect some of the stranded pirates and as others slayed the ones not needed. His mind drifted to The Warden and wondered as to her mood whence she returned. If he was one of these pirates he would truly begin to fear when The Warden returned to discver she'd been robbed. May the Maker help these poor bastards when Lady Fitzwarren returned.

"Well the fool didn't come to the coronation empty handed at all, in fact he passed me a strange gift, not of silver or spices but schematics for a repeating ballista, hah!" Virgil revealed the Polybolos like a magician doing a trick. We've been working on creating one from the plans for a month now, its unique mechanic proved to be of slight difficulty in reproducing, even the brightest minds in Penumbria took their time."

Virgil was highly excited by this new device, perhaps the greatest gift he has ever received in his life, luxuries he cared not for. Even though not a engineer or inventor himself he has great passion for technological advancements and nifty gadgets.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, a servant entered with food and drink in hand. I'll demonstra.. Virgil turned to the door raising his eyebrows at the servant. "Excuse me your majesty here are the meals requested for yourself and his lordship." He then walked forward to put them down at the table. "Boy, leave that for later, we're in the middle of something." Virgil flipped the table on to its side and dragged it across the room against the wall. "Right then..." He cocked back the mechanism inserting several bolts into what it looks like tall thin box, a chain like device began to cycle. The bolts flew, the strings vibrating hectically. The box was empty within ten seconds. "It lacks the power and range of a conventional ballista, but for defence I say speed is much more important, I plan to have at least twenty of these manned around various choke points and guard posts in the city with a crew on them day and night." Virgil walked over to his bookshelf and took from it a round canister, a messenger box. He threw it at Maul. "Guard, go fetch a new table. Boy stay here until the table arrives. He turned back at Maul and said There's a copy, we done all the hard parts, I'm sure you'll find it useful...

The port was lit alight, an inferno swarming through the port area, it was a hot day too. Warehouses and taverns were burnt to the ground, corpses laid charred. It was peak hour of business, many alike around the port markets peddling and buying wares. How cruel can someone be to do such? The flames came too fast. All remained were the blacken wood and ash of the deceased. Many jumped in the water to save themselves from the raging fire, now they stood in the middle of the most destructive thing they seen. Virgil and his entourage road out to survey the damage.

The Maker has forsaken us, his gift used in such a malicious manner..." Virgil was shaken, never has he seen death in such volume. Qunten rode up to him "Well, this is going to be a good day's work." he said in a distasteful tone. Many commoners stood on the outskirts gawking at the wreckage. Ostel walked towards them, bowing. "It seems the fire started at a warehouse...on the eastern side of the port. The warehouse contained...large volumes of fats and oils. Pirates were also seen raiding and looting whatever they could before the fire started a few minutes ago." Virgil looked towards the east. There's nothing we can do here, Ostel you stay here and investigate more that pertains to the matter, I shall return to the palace." This was devastating to the economy, perhaps more than several thousand died in the fires, the whole town was only saved by its design. These guerrilla attacks struck fear in the people, mobs were forming in the city square...

My Lady Isodell De Hugh FitzWarren, Warden of The Lowlands.

I write you this day to inform you of a heinous act of open aggression to your land and holdings. A force of pirate raiders has sacked a small coastal village just outside of Arv Rondalion. I brought a legion to bear within the hour and put down the raid quickly. We suffered no causalities to the legion, several citizens are believed to have either been taken or killed in the fray. The captive inventor Bang Cordinus was also taken, I believe he was the true target of the raid. I have taken six captives and have begun questioning them. I will discover the pirates master yet we both know there is but one man who controls the sea rats of Penumbria. Typhon Sturmaz believes himself above the law in all things, he is a villain that must be put down before he does more harm. On your command I can mobilize our forces and remind the pirate king the folly in waking a sleeping giant.

~ Lord Commander and Supreme General of The Rondalion Order, Alistair Vakarian
[Written by Bromander Shepard]


The Warden of the Lowlands sat at the head of the liberally decorated and royally embellished table surrounded by her Knights; a piece of parchment crumbling in her fist. Though food was laid out in abundance for the morning feast, not a morsel passed any lips.

A lack of sleep and the ill tidings brought by a Ravens wings in the early hours of this God forsaken morning left Isodell's temper with much to be desired. Desired in ways of blood of a certain cur pirate scum.

“Why have I never heard of this Bang Cordinus before?” Isodell finally ventured something in ways of conversation as her men waited in ill concealed anticipation.

“He was not worth the mention. A mad Inventor captured and held under house arrest by your late husband for nigh over thirty odd years.” Replied Treyon Eli garbed in his usual green robe who sat to Isodell's left.

“However,” Murdock interjected as he pushed off from his position looking out through an arrow slit in the stone wall to come sit next to Isodell's right. “he has been of great use to the Lowlands since your reign. His inventions have had significant positive outcomes and have aided much to the prosperity of the Lowlands, especially where your Armies are concerned.”

“Thank you Sir Murdock for that insight.” Treyon managed through gritted teeth.

“I aim to please.” Murdock grinned in his usual roguish manner.

“But, it is equally necessary to point out that his invention almost fail as much as they succeed. The man is not in his right mind. Has not been for a long time Isodell. If the pirate has him, I say good riddance!” Treyon added.

Isodell could not agree with her Uncle. Though she may have despised her husband Isodell knew well that Clayton FitzWarren had never been a fool and had been a force to reckon with until his untimely death at supposedly his wife's hands. As the rumour goes . . .

Lady Rondalion did the math. Clayton could not have been more then a mere sixteen years old when he captured this illusive inventor. It did not surprise Isodell. Her late husbands legend was known far and wide across Penumbria. He had come into power and the Wardenship of the Lowlands as nothing more then a child of eight and had been drenched in blood since before then.

Cold and callous, Clayton FitzWarren had been an unstoppable force. The fiercest of all the FitzWarren men to hold title over Arv Rondalion. If her father had not agreed to give her hand in marriage to the War Lord, the De Hugh's no doubt would have been wiped out.

“Uncle, if he is as useless as you claim then why did Clayton FitzWarren hold him for so long? My husband was no fool, not even at that tender age when he captured Cordinus.”

A knock disturbed their conversation midway.

“Enter.” Murdock beckoned in his brusque tone. “Well don't loiter boy! Close the door and come in.” He beckoned when the young servant stood nervously by the open door.

Fixated gray eyes unnerved the young man, nor did the group of dangerous looking Knights surrounding the Lady help his nerves. Why he wondered he ever agree to this? Well the answer was rather glaringly obvious; because the coin was more than good.

“Tell us child, how is the King on this fine morrow?” Isodell questioned leisurely as one hand tapped a rhythm on the table.

“As well as a King can be when his Capital has been attacked early on the morn.” He managed to get out without stuttering.

All raised brows riveted on him. The Maker! But it was like standing in the middle of a Lion's den as they eyed a succulent Boar. Tellius mused in fear. But as long as he told them what they wanted to hear he would be safe and the richer for it, he reminded himself.

“Do go on.” Lady Rondalion commanded with practised patience.

“Well my Lady there is more which I think it important for you to know. You see I was with the King this morning and His Lordship Stormkeer had an audience with the King. The short of it is that he advised the King to put a condition on your recent awarded Banship of Hightower. That your Ladyship fund a ransom of five hundred thousand pieces of Gold for the capture of the Pirate King.”

The fine lines of Isodell's jaw clenched as her eyes flashed an ungodly violet. Treacherous savage! She couldn't decide whether she was annoyed or impressed by Stormkeer's furtiveness.

Five Hundred Thousand pieces of Gold in all honesty was not much for the Lady Lowlander but it was Stormkeer's very slyness that was irking her. He was obviously sharper than she had first thought him or appearances gave credence to.

“And what said the King to this?” She managed to get out without gritting her teeth.

“Naught my Lady. The King and his Lordship continued onto discuss some plans for a Ballista contraption. They were very engrossed in it.”

“Then you must find out more.” Murdock added.

“There are written plans Sir. If I can get my hands on them-”

“Then you should discreetly.” Murdock finished.

“Of course!” Tellius seconded. He was no fool and had no wish to die. He was stealthy, quiet and reliable. After all that is why he had been chosen by the Ice Queen's men. “Then Lord Stormkeer rode out to join the Kings men to put out the fires within the city limits. Though might I add your Ladyship as I was coming to you I did happen to over hear some news that may interest you. As Lord Stormkeer returned to the palace, it is rumoured he was in quite a foul mood as apparently word had returned to him of damage to his ships up in the Highlands by the Pirate Sturmaz.”

If that wasn't a soothing balm to Isodell's blazing ire then she didn't know what was. Why should she be the only one to suffer at the Pirates hands. Now her and Stormkeer had something in common. Something she could use in aid of his compliance.

Though the truth of it still irritated and much to her own detriment disappointed Isodell. He could have damn well have sent at least a note to apologize for not making to their appointment at breakfast. Well what else could she expect from a savage Highlander. Alas, if the mountains did not come to her, she would go to it . . .

“Your skills are much appreciated.” Lady Rondalion smiled as one of her Knights placed a small piece of parchment before her and handed her a quill. “Give the boy his reward Murdock.”

Sir Murdock unfastened a small bag from around his waist and threw it at Tellius who caught it deftly. Tellius could fight his smirk as he counted the Gold without even having to open it. There was at least fifteen more pieces of Gold then he was promised. And that, Tellius reminded himself, was why he did the Ice Queens bidding. One never had to wait for the rewards of hard work and there was always more then had been discussed.

“Remember, boy,” Tellius looked up to face the red haired Knight. “our secrets should remain our secrets.”

“A neck and shoulders are no good without a head.” The Ice Queen added sweetly as she wrote her note and then looked up squarely at Tellius. “Until next time. Now be gone.”

Tellius did not need to be told twice before he high tailed it out of the Lion's den. No such warning he knew, from the Ice Queen herself should be taken lightly.


Dearest Vakarian,

Do as you see fit. My trust in you is beyond reproach. Find the Inventor and bring me Sturmaz alive. We shall meet soon.


~ Isodell FitzWarren

In the keep of Arv Rondalion sat the Lion himself. Behind a massive oaken desk littered with scrolls, leaflets and maps he sat scribbling away on several different pieces of parchment. The room was dark save for the few candles positioned near and on the table where the general was working. Before him were dispatch orders, supply manifests and troop reports. Alistair was preparing, preparing for what was to come. A storm was on the horizon, he could feel it in his bones. Not just in the Lowlands but a storm that would reach out all over Penumbria. Other men would misjudge the pirate king as little more than a sea rat with delusions of grandeur. Alistair Vakarian was not other men, he did not get where he was today by allowing arrogance to guide his minds eye. Nay he took this threat very seriously. The pirate king Typhon Sturmaz would receive the full attention of the fabled general and that battle of wits, that game of chess that ended in blood would teach the sea raider a hard learned lesson. To challenge the lion is to accept defeat.

The sound of the the quill scratching on the parchment and the momentary pause as it clinked gently in the ink well was the only sound in the dark room. It was then that the sound of the chamber door opened and in stepped the sounds of booted feet. The cadence in which the person walked was not the fine rhythmic foot falls of a soldier but the stumbling, saunter of a drunk. The boots stopped in front of the desk before their owner plopped himself down in the seat position across from Alistair. The general ignored the man for several moments before sighing softly and folding the parchment he had been working on. Alistair's eyes flicked up, annoyance playing across his handsome features.

"You're drunk... again."

Alistair said sharply before reaching for his candle wax and pouring a small amount on the fold of his correspondence. The man before him laughed as he ran his hand through his chesnut hair.

"Tis splendind to see you too big brother."

He said cheerfully. Alistair took his sigil, a metal sealer with the etching of the noble lion upon it and pressed it into the wax, sealing his letter. It was then that he set his work aside for a moment to look at his brother, Leolf Vakarian. Leolf is Alistair's younger brother by several years. Barely into his mid twenties, the dashing young Vakarian has spent his years of wealth doing what most men do. Drinking, bedding maidens and carrying on like a fool was how Leolf spent his days and as such his elder brother despised his character. Leolf had talent, true talent for he was intelligent, brave and a fine swordsman. Perhaps one day he could even rival The Lion but until he took his martial practice seriously he'd continue to be nothing but a skilled novice. Alistair has tried countless times to get Leolf to take his duties seriously and has had more luck teaching a fish to fly.

"What do you want Leolf?"

Alistair asked bluntly, his cold attitude could crack bone. His younger brother chuckled it off as always and leaned back in his seat, comfortably lounging in the Lions den.

"Why must everyone always assume I want something? Can I not just come to visit my dearest brother?"

Alistair shook his head in disgust and grabbed his quill before returning to his work.

"Do you forget who you are speaking to, Leolf? We were raised together, we fought together, I know you better than you know yourself. Now tell me what you want or leave me in peace so I may get some work done."

He said as he began tallying up supply line costs and cohort assignments. Leolf smirked before raising his hands up in show of mock surrender.

"Very well, I need money."

"No."

Alistair replied shortly without even looking up from his work. Leolf looked at him as though he'd just transformed into a hydra.

"Ali, now wait a minute, you're not even going to consider it?!"

"No."

Leolf leaned forward now, completely enthralled by his task of trying to convince his brother.

"Brother, I owe money alright. A lot of money to some very dangerous people. I don't think you understand-"

"No, I don't think you understand!"

Alistair barked, cutting him off. His keen eyes locked onto the ale addled eyes of his brothers who had fallen silent now.

"You are a Vakarian! You are of one of the oldest and most noble houses in all of Penumbria. The lion does not beg and scrape to appease wolves!"

Alistair growled as he stared down his brother. Leolf averted his gaze, not willing to look his brother in the eye any longer. Alistair slowly got to his feet and began walking around his desk.

"Leolf... You are my brother, the future of the family name as I have no heirs. You have squandered the gifts The Maker has seen fit to grant you with all of your life. Take this as an opportunity to prove yourself worthy of the sigil on your armor. Vakarian's do not bend knee to thieves. If they wish to take their due from you in blood give them more blood than they can handle, use that damned sword you prance around with."

"But Ali-"

"But nothing! It is time you start earning the name you bear brother. If you kill them then perhaps you'll begin to see what it means to be a Vakarian. If they kill you..."

Alistair snarled as he returned to his seat, roughly.

"Then I'll be rid of your foolishness once and for all."

Leolf could say nothing, he just stared at the ground in shame. Alistair glared at him in anger, his gaze burning through his younger brother.

"Go.... now."

Leolf looked ready to speak again but thought against it. He got to his feet and turned to leave.

"Leolf... On your way out speak with the lieutenant."

Leolf turned around and looked at his brother in surprise.

"I will give you six men... six. Clear out this thieves den of yours. With them dead your debt should be absolved."

Leolf smiled wickedly before nodding.

"Thank you brother."

"Out."

Alistair growled in return. Leolf nodded and took his leave leaving Alistair in peace finally. The general shook his head with a long sigh as he returned to his work. Leolf did not know how lucky he was to share a name with Alistair.

The twin cities of Zephyr and Zephyrus

It had been days since the merchant ship had passed and the cities had been taken, the leaders had been killed, some of the criminals had been hanged as pirates others had sailed after the merchant boat, it had taken a day or two but the allies they had in the city had made it a quick transition, a repeat of the Hightower incident, and gained a secret control of the entrance to the tears.


Marsh land

Five ships had said south past the marsh lands giving the signal of the plan. With the few merchants they were able to get most sailed off, some of the remaining ran off into the swamp lands with jars of fish and whale oil, when they were far enough in they lit the jars and tossed them at the trees and ran.


Pelegosto
In the meeting room there were ten figures, five pirate captains who were also “admirals”, three warriors who looked like they had lived in the wild for years, a noble wearing the colors of the thieves’ guild, and at the head of the table was Sturmaz towering over them all. “I call the meeting of my war cabinet, as you all have probably heard we are not going to fight with them army to army. We will have skirmishes, we will block the ports, we will burn their food, and there will be no mercy for the nobles that haven’t joined us and any mutineers. each of you have a job the rules are what you take is yours, except for capitals any of the lords or the kings jobs aren’t going to be the property other than that feel free to do what you want as long as you do your job first. I will meet with each of you separately so that no one knows what each other’s jobs are.” The captain called Redbeard who was said to dye his hair with blood he sent to other countries to gather mercenaries, ships, and supplies with promises of land. The rest had the job of blocking the ports The Claw who’s prosthetic were three hooks was to block the marshes, The Queen of the Seas who was the only female to take control of a ship took the lowlands, the Immortal Captain who had lost five ships in battle and always returned would take the capital, and the Gambler who got his name from stealing more money in bars then on the high sea took the highlands. The three leaders of the bandits each had secret orders as did the thief lord, but the one order they all had in common was that anyone suspected of mutiny could be killed at their discretion.

Treyon Eli sat next to his niece, deep in thought, as the table was being cleared after the morning feast. The Knights had departed, some to their stations, others to enjoy the follies of Court while in the Capital.

“Pray, Uncle, speak what is vexing your mind so.”

Treyon peered at Isodell's amused countenance with a frown.

“I do not like this niece. Not one bit.”

“You must be more clear Uncle.” Isodell returned playfully, in a much better mood then when the morning had started. “What is it exactly that disagrees with you? This fine day? The Palace? The lacklustre staff? I must agree with you there, we have more livelier servants back at Arv Rondalion.”

“This is no time for jesting Isodell! How can you give that bloodthirsty Vakarian free reign?! It does not bode well niece. I see ill tidings.” Treyon demanded.

“The Lion's House has always been loyal to to the Lords of the Lowlands. The man has never broken my trust in him and has never failed in any task set. What more can I ask for in a General?” Replied Lady Rondalion with a patience she had only for a few. “Uncle, I fully trust Alistair Vakarian, sometimes more so then myself.”

“And therein lies the problem. One can never trust anyone except ones own Kin. And Vakarian is not kin! He is naught more then a bloody tyrant that kills in another's name! Your name.”

And wasn't that exactly why she liked Alistair Vakarian? No questions asked. One couldn't even buy allegiance like that with Gold these days and Vakarian did it all in the name of fealty. Isodell FitzWarren was not a fool to let such a man leave her ranks. He did as she bayed. Plus, she had a genuine liking for the no nonsense General. That was an even rarer feat to come by upon.

However . . . Maybe her Uncle had a point. Nothing declared complete and utter loyalty like familial and blood bonding . . . Interesting . . . It could not hurt . . . Only strengthen . . .

“What are you pondering niece. I can almost see the gears in your mind turning.” Treyon's slitted regard broke Isodell's musings.

“Naught Uncle.” A calculating smile whispered up the Lady Warden's lips as she rose from her seat. “Naught, except that you maybe right.”

Treyon looked up at his niece, a frown marring his brow in confusion and ill ease. What in the Makers name was that girl up to now?!

“What are you saying? And where are you going?!” He demanded.

“Uncle, I agree with you and you do not like it. I disagree with you and you do not like it.” Isodell teased as she glided along to the door. “And if you must know, I must pay a call on someone.”

“A call upon who?!”

Treyon demanded but it was too late, Isodell had already swept through the portal. . .

It was not long before Sturmaz and his outfit would technically 'invade' Penumbria. Rumours of Hightower activity were reported in the north, however sources came from 'unofficial' sources thus were of no use to the King. They were playing a game of wait and pray, they could at a moments notice invade Hightower and reclaim it for the throne but the lack of foundation, a lack of trust hampered their progress. Royal Naval forces were disorganised as ever, many of the ships never abroad for decades, history dictates this conflict will outlast many.

Vaino's reforms reached the court, a threat it was to the power of the Order and its followers. For centuries unbroken, Makerism provided what was needed, unity. Men can fight over many matters trivial or paramount but when it comes to faith and the divine....

With all the Wards poised for war, who will turn their back?

"The bastard thinks he is King because he gets some title?" Bann Curimaine stood up and pleaded "Those pagans are vile, they will rebel against your rule to install their divines!" The court sounded in agreement.

Bann of Lieth, Aidan Curimaine was the head of House Curimaine a young but prestigious family situated between Langsmerth and Silverstone in the city of Lieth. The Curimaine's were big players in Lowland politics, known for their spearhead against the rebels in the Rebellion in which many of their house fell in the battles that occurred between Lieth and Silverstone against Bann Mbrasen.

(Excuse me can't post much today, have to catch up with some work)

A council was called to officially address the matters at hand; Vaino's offensive action against faith and the war on Hightower. There at the table sat:

• King Virgil Madriach, Protector of Penumbria
• Lord Qunten Eddermarch, Bann of Arengarden
• Lord Aiden Curimaine, Bann of Lieth
• Lord Oroles Baudin, Bann of Siev
• Lord Marcus Varier, Bann of Varen

One by one they wrote their name in blood as per tradition of secretive meetings such as these; a signing bound by the Maker.

"Only in times of uncertainty does one seek the Maker's guidance. We've all put aside good time to clear our concerns, enough of formalities lets get to it." Virgil rolled a map out, it was dim even with the several candles hanging on the walls.

"I see your majesty has marked the Twins, even myself the rumours seem impossible." Qunten said shrouding in the shadows. Virgil looked at Marcus and said That is exactly why I wish to see for myself, however it will not be straightforward. Now I wish to know when Her Lady, Fitzwarren plans to leave for Rondalion, you will accompany her wish your van then once you reach Rondalion take a rest a day or so then head onto the Twins. You will not be heading inland, follow the coast instead to scout for pirates and the likes. Qunten nodded in approval of the plan.

"A question, If the Twins are occupied by hostile forces, what is it that I am to do?" Virgil looked at him for a slight moment "Fight you will not, 'retreat' directly back here, but on the way back dispatch a courtier to Arv Rondalion to inform Her Lady, a note remember only to report of the situation not any giving of orders or specific information..." Virgil darted his eyes to the rest of the crowd. "My lords?"

"I am concerned regarding Lord Sivareth's actions in the west, and in matters serious, off with his head!" Aiden banged on the table and continued onto a religious rant. "Did you forget to pray today?" Marcus said, tired of Aiden's babbling, before anything could start Virgil cut in. Everything has it's reasons, however even I know naught of the mans aspirations and what he wishes to gain out of doing such, for that I assign the task to you, Oroles." Lord Baudin was soft spoken in speech preferring to say less than much, however much went on in his mind many dared not to venture. "I shall do my deed your majesty."

"I am hoping that Lord Theongor has arrived, please Qunten mind fetching him?" With that Qunten exited the claustrophobic ruined dungeon which was hidden deep in the castles old walls.

The sound of coins ringing sang in the Scribes ears and frightened him half to death. He peered at the small pouch that had somehow landed at the edge of his desk with a frown. His heart still racing furiously. His gaze followed the dark shadow that loomed over him to the sight of a bright red haired man. He had not even heard him enter . . .

His fear did not desist.

“I hear you are drawing up some designs for Lord Stormkeer.”

Murdock stated grabbing the vellum with the original schematics for the Ballista without so much as a 'may I?'

The Scribe was going to protest but thought better of it as he studied the blood haired warrior. A Knight, no doubt. And not one to be meddled with, the Scribe pondered. Better to let him have his say, see what he wanted and send him on his way.

He happened to be quite attached to his bones fully intact.

“These are interesting designs, are they not Scribe?” Murdock questioned leisurely as he studied the long page.

“Tis not my place to say.” The Scribe replied hesitantly. “My work simply consists of writing and drawing what is asked of me.”

Sir Murdock's sharp gaze flashed and locked on the graying man sat before him.

“How right you are Scribe.” He said with the slyness of a snake, replacing the plans back onto the dark wood table; one hand coming to gently rest on the Scribes shoulder while the other pushed the small brown bag of coins to the center. “A man who values his life knows when not to question orders.”

The Scribe held the Knights gaze, when all he wanted to do was run away. But how could he? He wouldn't even be able to move if he tried! The man's solid hand to his shoulder held him locked in place.

“You seem to be an intelligent sort of man Scribe.” A virulent smirk laced Murdock's lips as his clasp tightened painfully; his voice deadly low. “So listen carefully old man. I don't like repeating myself. I want a competent copy of these plans for the Ballista. I want them drawn up as soon as possible, I'll be back to collect them in a few hours time. And most importantly, I want this to stay between us. Understand? Should anyone happen to overhear, then believe me, no one will hear you ever again.”

The Scribe nodded his head fervently as the fear of the Maker was put into him by the dangerous Knight and pain rocketed through his shoulder all the way down his arm. Luckily, it wasn't the one he needed for his work.

“Good!” Murdock smiled pleasantly as he let go of his tight clasp and gave the Scribe a hearty pat on the back, as if he hadn't just threatened the man's life. He couldn't leave such important work in the hands of that damn servant boy. “Well now, I'll be returning soon. You enjoy the rest of your day.” He bellowed joyously as he made his way back towards the door.

The Scribe sat as still as stone in his seat, staring at the bag of Gold before him. His heartbeat still abnormally fast. Psychopath! Was the only word that came to his mind. Yet, he was no fool to unheed the madman's words.

Picking up his pencil, the Scribe set furiously to work.

---

Lady Rondalion entered her quarters ready to make her way to Stormkeer's chambers, much as she had done the night before, only this time, it was not a mistake. Yet she was halted, finding her favourite Knight already in her quarters.

“And what exactly has you grinning so?” Isodell questioned Murdock with mild suspicion.

Not only was Murdock her most favoured Champion but he was her only true friend. They were not so far apart in age and shared the same humours, that some would describe as callous and cruel.

Murdock chuckled as Isodell took a seat across from him in the Solar. “Is a man not allowed to smile for no particular reason now, my Lady?”

“A man, certainly.” Isodell replied with smiling pout of her own. “Not you.”

“Aye? Then I suppose I must concede.” Murdock continued to chortle. “I was just having a little fun with the Scribe.”

“And did this fun include threatening the poor old man's life?” She asked knowingly; knowing it was Murdock's favourite way of getting things done.

“It may have.” The Knight winked.

“You are terrible.” Isodell sighed fictitiously. “But I suppose you know that. So the designs?”

“Shall be ready for collection before nightfall.”

Lady Rondalion and her Knight shared a conspirational smile.

“What would I ever do without you dear Murdock?” Isodell grinned.

“Naught, I suspect.”

“You suspect wrong.” She reconsidered playfully at Murdock's egotistical answer as the man's booming laughter filled the naturally lit room. “My Uncle believes I put too much power in Vakarian's hands.” Isodell changed the subject.

“Eli has always been a cautious man. He is a man of the Maker. Vakarian spills blood too readily, he sees no will above yours.” Murdock stated his thoughts honestly.

“True. Tis why I like him after all.”

A smirk tugged up the side of the red haired Knight's lips.

“Aye, he is a good General. The best dare I say. A Warden of the Realm must have faith in his General, for who else is he to trust? Your Uncle is not a Solider. He can never understand ethics of a Knight, no more then a Knight can understand giving up bodily pleasures to dedicate ones life to the Maker.”

“No doubt, you cannot give up bodily pleasures.” Isodell jested before returning to the matter at hand.

“No doubt.” Sir Murdock seconded roguishly.

“However, my Uncle was right in a certain sense. He said Vakarian is not kin and one cannot truly hold submission or loyalty of such a man unless kin.”

“Oh?” Murdock's brow rose and his eyes sparked with utter amusement. Isodell need not say more; their friendship rarely required much monologue to realize what the other meant.

“Oh indeed. I believe it is time Lord Commander Vakarian join us at Court before we depart. Though I am loathed to leave Arv Rondalion without it's Lion.”

“Your man at arms will keep order at Arv Rondalion and what I suspect you have in mind will take no more then a week and we shall high on back the happier and greater in number home.”

Isodell honeyed laughter lit the room like the sun light that filtered through the diamond sash windows.

“How do you think he will take the news?”

“Tis not Vakarian I would worry about.” Murdock frowned suddenly, seemingly lost in thought as one hand slowly rubbed one of his smooth shaven cheeks.

“The marks are long gone.” Isodell smirked knowing Murdock's thoughts.

“Aye.” He replied gruffly, eyes flashing to the deceptively angelic figure sat before him; his fingers still soothing his cheek. “But the sting long remains.”

“You deserved it.”

---

Dear Vakarian,

My plans have changed and the orders I sent you halted. I still want both Sturmaz and Cordinus alive. However, for the time being, they can wait. Something of much more import has been brought to my attention and I am in need of you here at Court. Make haste.


~ Your Lord and Master, Isodell FitzWarren

Dear Vakarian,

My plans have changed and the orders I sent you halted. I still want both Sturmaz and Cordinus alive. However, for the time being, they can wait. Something of much more import has been brought to my attention and I am in need of you here at Court. Make haste.


~ Your Lord and Master, Isodell FitzWarren

The Lion lowered the note brought to him by way of a raven with a scowl. Uncertainty hung heavy in his mind, something was not right. He could feel it, down in the very core of his bones he could feel a shift on the winds. The letter from the Warden was... cryptic at best. The kind of correspondence Alistair had witnessed Lady FitzWarren right before just as she was ordering him to mobilize his men and lay siege to whomever she was writing to. She was planning something for Alistair but what that could be was anybody's guess. The Lord Commander folded the letter neatly before placing it in his belt and making for the door of his quarters. Uncertain or not he had been given an order and he was going to carry it out.

In minutes he was in the courtyard of the massive keep in his armor with his weapons afixed to his belt. His crimson cloak whipped behind him as the wind picked up. Alistair was making preparation for his departure, ensuring the hold would be looked after in his absence. Once all was ready he mounted his white war horse along with two of his most trusted lieutenants. Just as they were getting ready to depart a familiar face rounded the corner. With a scantily clad harlot on either arm the brother of The Lion Sauntered through the courtyard. Obviously drunk once again and obviously enjoying life.

"Brother! You're leaving this late at night? But the night is dark and full of... Oh devil what was the line?"

Alistair arched his eyebrow and looked at his brother with disgust as his lieutenants exchanged glances and chuckles.

"It's the morning Leolf. You must not notice seeing as how you are barely sober enough to stand."

Alistair said harshly. Leolf looked offended and shoved one of the women away from him to prove he could stand on his won.

"I can too-"

His words were cut off as he tumbled to the floor. The lieutenants laughed as Alistair's magnificent war horse slowly trotted to loom over the younger Vakarian.

"You are a disgrace Leolf... So much so that I will not endanger the hold by leaving you here unsupervised. Get a horse, you're coming with me."

Leolf looked up at his brother as if he'd just issued him the most horrible of tortures.

"But Ali, riding won't sit well with me. My stomache-"

"Stop your whining, you sound like a child. Now get a horse, come now quick march!"

Alistair barked. Two soldiers quickly brought a horse to the younger Vakarian brother and helped the drunk into the saddle. Leolf scowled at his brother but did not speak again. The Lord Commander, his brother and the two lieutenants rode out from Arv Rondalion to meet the Warden at her request. The Lion only wondered what horror awaited them.

A Marsh army of ten thousand soldiers had departed with General Cade to recapture both Zephyr and Zephyrus. Cade was making his move by sending the armies through out the Marshes to defend towns and building forts in the Central Forest as well as along borders. His host would take the two cities with ease. This he was sure of for Zakai would promise him victory.

When the host camped for the night after a long day of marching, Cade was in his personal tent with a bound up soldier who was caught stealing the possessions from other soldiers. On this charge the soldier could be executed in any way. The general chose sacrifice. He worshiped the Old Gods of the swamp tribes that eventually banded together to create Sundregn. Normally he would be less open about it but with Vaino's new laws passed and the large army surrounding him he felt quite comfortable.

"Do you know who Zakai is boy?" He asked the young thief who was struggling with his bonds. "He is the god of sun and of war. He promises victory to those who pay him in blood. That's where come in.". "Sir! Please I'm sorry!" The boy cried out. "I know you are." The general told the boy as he slit the boys throat and filled a bowl with it. He then mixed the blood with oil to burn it as so that Zakai would receive it. The body was disposed of as he fell into slumber for the night.

In the morning the army broke camp to immediately begin marching again to the cities. Cade was certain that with Zakai's power the Marshes would quickly take back the towns and make a display of power to the other wards.

Stumaz docked at the village and walked into the village where the inventor Bang was, it was on his island in the north side where they would have to sail around. He entered the room after getting the news about the fire weapon and saw the bruises on the inventor. He suddenly brought out the murder grin tuned around brought out his cross bows and shot both of the prisoner guards in the neck, the poisons on the darts killed them quickly. “WHY. IS. HE. BRUSED? We are pirates but that doesn’t mean that we can mistreat guests like this, he is smart enough that I don’t want to risk his life, he is to have a paycheck, free roam around the village, and anyone else who admits right now before I ask him that beat him” he reloaded his mini crossbows while he talked “doesn’t get a present from my crossbow. He gets as much paper and writing utensils as he wants and the one guard will follow him all day.” He entered the room and looked at the inventor “were there any other guards that beat you or any you have a problem with because I can always make an example. You and me are not different we both dragged ourselves up to our positions, you were thrown down once the nobles saw your flame as they threw me out when mine dwarfed the kings, let me tell you you’re useful and I would kill one of my seven captains for five more of you, and let me tell you all of my captains are the smartest, strongest and most ruthless things on the sea that’s saying something. Once I think that you are trustworthy enough, you will have zero guards following you, unless you do something completely stupid you have almost complete immunity from the death penalty. Your plans for the underwater ship, can you build more of those and how do the fire weapons work under water? ”

Somewhere in the tears
Normally the Gator was a swamp bandit, he knew his way around river and streams, but this job he was given made him feel bad for his countrymen, sturmaz had given him the job to stop at fishing ports both in the tears and around the island to pick up a shipment of slave to take north to trade for ships, materials, and mercenaries. Anyone who didn’t die and wouldn’t serve stumaz was rounded up and shipped north.

Thieves’ guild main hideout
As the meeting ended two of the best set out on their boat to the swamp lands “so let me get this straight, the boss wants us to steal signet rings, keys to the treasuries, and to replace food stores with poison, what does this get us?” the other slapped the other in the head “stupid, one we owe sturmaz favors, two with the keys we can send people to steal their treasure, three if stumaz wins then we all get immunity based on how much we contributed.”

Vaino was walking through the streets of Sundregn with his personal guards. The streets were busier than normal as the economy had been switched over to war time. Bums were no longer on the street in as many quantities and were instead on the battlefields as soldiers. Many people had also been staring at the new laws concerning the purchase of the land from the Central Forest.

There it read: Acres may be purchased by any man who has the money to buy it, regardless of social stance. If one does not have the the initial funds they may arrange a loan from Lord Sivareth. Development of roads, forts, outposts, village walls, and protection will be the responsibility of the Marsh military.

The nobles were certainly not nearly as happy as the peasants were at this news. Vaino's loans were actually fair with interest. He was slowly going to corrode the power that his nobles had through his laws. Some who had spoken of not actually paying the new taxes were soon to be sorry. Vaino had sent his Rangers to sneak into the selected nobles' treasuries and steal up to ten percent. That would be repeated for each week they did not pay.

Near the walls of Langsmerth:

A small band of one hundred worshipers of the goddess Luway had been beginning to build a temple only fifty kilometers outside of the capitol's walls along side a major road. "Ragfer! Don't you think this is going too far!? We only have protection in the Marshes but here...who knows what they would do to us?" The disciple of the Ragfer said. "Lord Sivareth's armies are out and about now meaning that they could easily send a dozen men to help us if we need it. Trust Luway. After all she heals the sick and protects us from demons so do not think that a few mortals could harm us on what will be holy ground." The priest replied. With so many work hands they planned to have the temple be built in a week.

“The only thing I can say with certainty is that if Bang Cordinus is foolish enough to be taken in by Sturmaz's pretty words and deliberate gestures of kindness, giving away his secrets then he had better pray to the Maker that I do not get my hands on him.” Isodell commented as their long conversation regarding the mysterious Inventor wound down.

She had learnt a great deal regarding Cordinus this afternoon. It was simply beyond her comprehension why she was not made aware of his existence much earlier. Had Lady Rondalion been privy to the old man's existence and import, house arrest would have been a kindness she would not have offered him. Nay she would have had the man locked up in Arv Rondalion Keep and armed day and night. Isodell suppressed a weary sigh. Next time, she promised herself.

“Sturmaz is famous for allowing a man to name his price.” Murdock replied logically. “One can see how easily a man can be taken in by such a promise.”

Isodell snorted mirthlessly in a very unladylike fashion, eyes gleaming with acerbic humour.

“Devron.” Isodell said, using Murdock's never used last name; leaning back leisurely, one leg crossed over the other draped in the most expensive royal blue silk and velvet that could be found in the whole of Penumbria. “You and I know very well that a man only ever asks another to name his price when he has absolutely no intention of paying it.”

“Or paying it in blood.” Murdock grinned coldly.

“Precisely.”

“Well, then, Cordinus had better hope he is as clever as he is believed to be.” Murdock said lightly with a wink as he raised from his seat. “I think I shall go and see how our dear friend the Scribe is fairing.”

“Under your threatening command?” Lady Rondalion smiled calculatingly as she walked her friend to the door.

“Excuse myself, I am here to seek her Lady's presences, I am hoping she has time . . .”

The Knight and his Lady Mistress shared a convin raise of brows and smirks hearing the voice through the closed door.

“I always have time for you, Lord Eddermarch.” Isodell beamed as she flung the door open startling both Eddermarch and her own armed guard. “Why, please, do come in my Lord.” She gestured with a flourish of a arm and a curtsey.

“Lord Eddermarch. Mistress.” Murdock bowed gallantly, a handsome smile stretching his face as he exited the Solar, leaving Isodell with a wicked wink as Eddermarch entered the bright chamber.

“How kind of you to grace me with your presence. I am most humbled.” Isdoell spoke sweetly to Eddermarch; closing the door on Murdock's roguishly grinning countenance as the aging Eddermarch turned to face her. “Can I offer you any libations my Lord?”

It would appear, Isodell thought with a sudden sinking feeling that she could not quite place but she would have to wait even longer before she had the chance to bestow her charming presence in front of that Highland Savage again . . .

Blast! But everything conspired against her!

The ride south to Langsmerth was quiet and uneventful. They past few people on their ride south and those few souls they did see had little interest in stopping to converse with the stern looking general and his party. Alistair's two lieutenants attempted to make idle conversation once or twice as the days passed by but the words hung limp in the air and were carried off on the wind. The mood was not sour yet stale as if it was plain to see no one among them actually wanted to be going on this ride. Leolf couldn't help but look at his brother curiously. The infamous and legendary Lion, so proud and noble. Always he put his Warden above himself in all things yet now as he rode the true man shined fourth. He had his own thoughts, his own desires and even his own fears he merely refused to allow them to be brought to the fore front but this ill omen ride to the capitol gave Leolf just a hint of the man beneath the armor. In a way it made Leolf more compassionate towards his cold older brother who was constantly scolding him and nay saying at him. To know that there were things even the dutiful Lord Commander didn't want to do was refreshing. Leolf allowed a smile to break out on his lips but rode in silence until night fall.

The four men made camp near a thicket before securing the horses and settling down to eat, drink and get a few precious hours of sleep before resuming their trek in the morning. Langsmerth was not terribly far from Arv Rondalion, about a two or three day ride for swift courier who made no stops. For four armored men on war horses, with provisions and making regular stops to eat and rest Alistair was looking at his journey taking the better part of a week. Standard for the travel between the capitol and Arv Rondalion. The Warden wouldn't be expecting anything less.

As the night sky rumbled with distant storm clouds and the remnants of the thunders master fell from the sky Alistair sat a top a large stone looking at the dying fire as his men slept. His crimson cloak wrapped around him the rain soaked him through and through yet he barely seemed to take notice. His eyes were fixed on the failing light of the camp fire. His mind deep in contemplation. He almost didn't notice his brother getting out of his bedroll to come sit near him.

"Trouble finding sleep Ali?"

Leolf asked casually, using the boys childhood nickname for his older brother. Alistair didn't move, didn't even take his eyes off the fire.

"Keeping watch."

Alistair replied flatly. Leolf's eyebrow arched as he followed his brother's line of sight to the fire and back.

"For what? Fire demons?"

He asked in jest. The simple joke broke Alistair's minds wandering and he finally turned to look at his brother, even if it was only briefly.

"What do you want Leolf?"

Leolf sighed with a chuckle and ran his hand through his dripping wet hair as the rain continued to fall.

"When are you ever not going to ask me that?"

"When it stops being relevant."

Alistair fired back bluntly. Leolf chuckled and shook his head as he now turned his gaze to the fire and allowed himself to become lost in the flickering light as his brother had.

"What do you think she wants?"

The younger Vakarian asked casually.

"Doesn't matter. She is our lord and master. Her word is law therefore any command given will be followed without question."

Alistair replied with absolute loyalty and conviction. Leolf chuckled again but this time looked at his brother.

"Any command?"

He asked suggestively. Alistair looked at Leolf curiously with an arched eyebrow, silently asking what he was playing at.

"What if she asked you to kill me?"

Leolf inquired with a sadistic smirk. Alistair stared at him in almost disgust.

"Why would you ask me that?..."

Leolf just shrugged playfully as he responded.

"Just a question."

The Lord Commander leaned forward with a growl and a glare.

"Then you'd better get some sleep for you have a big day tomorrow. What with the execution and all."

Alistair's words were cold and full of resentment. Leolf merely laughed and backed off as he stood up with his hands up. That was about as close to a joke as he'd ever heard from his brother but he knew when not to pester The Lion.

"Fair enough, I'll leave you to your fire gazing."

Leolf made his way back to his bedroll and Alistair was once again left in peace and quiet. His mind going over the very same question his brother had posed him moments before. What did the Lady Isodell have in store for him?...