Culvas; En Lome

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he country of En Lome is a quiet one. They have never felt the rumble of revolution, never suffered defeat in war but never experienced the power of a victory, and their greatest scandal fell under the rule of their last king; their history is generally calm and pretty, but it lacks the raw emotion of a masterpiece. They are not an incredibly interesting people and, with their lack of eventful news, history may not remember them well. It is a dull morning, such that are characteristic of the country, that brings with it the beginning of their only great story.

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. For a time, the only sounds are the soft, sleepy murmurings of a waking castle. The cooks set to work on the morning meal, the first cycle of night guardsmen are sent to their rest by the morningmen, and the princess' lady-in-waiting comes tapping at her door. But there is no princess within. In response, a call rises up and the castle is soon in uproar; all off-duty guards are called to the search, whispers of foul play run through the court, a din of agitation to break the classically still air.


. The queen tries to keep her poise, though the tumult of voices and footsteps does little to help her composure. Her face is drawn tight in frustration but she tries to look thankful for the flock of noblemen now competing for her regal attentions. Her daughter is missing, her husband is out of reach, and the normal order of her castle is in shambles. This is dangerous and she knows it all too well. She is already scheduled for a journey to Maslona for... negotiations and putting them off any longer would be more than unwise. Her daughter could be anywhere now.


. With heavy heart, and an unwelcome band of noblemen gathered near, the final preparations for the queen's short journey are made. All she has to offer her missing daughter for now are prayers and a search part organized by her loyal constable.

A hooded figure walks down the dirt trail, she was heading to Maslona. Every once and a while she would look behind her hoping no one would notice her. When ever she spotted someone on the path she'd hide her face under the dark black cloak. She looked up at the sky and by judging where the sun was in the sky it was late morning and her mother must have already had all the gaurds out looking for her, she began to walk faster hoping to get to Maslona soon.

Chaos. Chaos reigned in the quietest realm in the world, disturbing its quietness. Men's voices shattered the calm, demanding answers, and it was into this mess that the Silver Knight strode in. He was garbed in shining steel that morning, with only dents won in honorable combat marring its sheen. Valeryn stepped into the main hall, towards the Queen and her entourage and called out "Your Majesty! I have heard of your daughter's disappearance, and I offer my condolences, as well as my vow to you. I hereby swear by blood and by title that I will locate your daughter, and bring her home swiftly! I have ten good men, and fast horses. We can set out within the next half hour." And as he talked he gave a deep bow. His face was thus hidden as he gave a small smile at his fortune. For if he found the princess then his prestige would be unmatched, and the Queen would have to give him her daughter's hand in marriage...

Raciall walked onto the small patio his two story house used to extend the second floor and protect the entrance from the elements. The sun was bright in the morning sky, and it felt good as it showed off the sheen of Raciall's near metallic skin. He moved over to the railing, leaning on it in his bed clothes that he had yet to change out of yet.

Down in the streets, the guards were moving about as if the town had come under siege. They ran about the morning crowd, pushing citizens out of their way as they moved to the gates in droves. Something was going on, that much was not lost on the dracoi. What he didn't know what was going on.

Now encouraged to make his daily audience with the queen far earlier than usual, Raciall rushed into his room. He threw his mage robes on as quickly as he could, while still keeping them neat and comfortable. Next on was his shortsword, its sheath, and the belt that held them up, quickly followed up by his satchel filled with books. With some quick checks and adjustments to his belts, and Raciall was ready to make an audience with the queen.

Opening the door to his home, Raciall made his way into the streets. He made sure to say his morning "Hello" to all the merchants that he worked with as he moved down the streets. Several times, he had to look up and find the castle because of the packed streets that Raciall usually came out later to avoid such.

Upon reaching the castle, Raciall had more than a few close calls as guards rushed about the castle to figure out where the people they needed to inform where. This did little to delay Raciall as he made his swift steps towards the Throne Room.

When he reached the open doors, Raciall immediately spotted the horde of leeches who were known as nobles. They never seemed to do anything to help anyone but themselves. It disgusted him to know that they spent so much time licking boots when they had the knowledge and skill to help the world run effectively. They all seemed like they had no will to make their own money, something that Raciall believed everyone should have to do.

Walking into the horde, Raciall was bumped aside several times before the leeches began to push his buttons. He normally did his best to avoid the times that they sought audiences for a good reason. However, after one too many impacts, Raciall had enough. Crash! The sound of thunder echoed through the halls as the unhappy noble looked at his fellow peers. "What purpose could you all possibly be serving by swarming the queen like flies when there is obviously some important task?!" The steaming Raciall shouted at his "peers."

With a now clear path to the queen, Raciall took a deep breath and walked up beside the knight that had made his way to an audience and knelt. "I am sorry that you had to see that my queen. What has disrupted the serenity of the kingdom, and how may I assist in its restoration?" Raciall asked as calm and polite as he could muster, before standing up and letting his black hair, copper arms, and arm scales show to the nobles standing behind him and the knight.

Orders and cries shouted across the fields outside the grand city of Maslona. Hundreds of new recruits were gathered on the fields to do drills while being supervised by senior commanders. The duke himself was overlooking the training. He stood on top of a wooden platform made specifically to overseer the fields. At the table in which Vaiven sat at, he debated with his advisers over the coarse of the future budget for the Duchy.

"If the army continues to increase in size, then we must cut other expenditures or at least raise taxes." Marco, the treasurer of Maslona suggested to his lord. "I say that we raise taxes on prostitution, grain, trade, and tariffs."

Vaiven looked through the financial logs with a puzzled look on his face. Their were numbers missing. Fifty thousand silvers over the coarse of the decade to be exact. Marcus' work as always. "I could always raise taxes or cut expenses, but..." His dagger came down on the man's hand with force. "I would rather cut you out of the picture entirely. Take him to dungeons to rot away." He told the guards, who hauled the screaming man away. The duke planned to give the man's property to the citizens of Maslona as a stimulus and without Marcus laundering money the funds would have room for more recruits. He wanted at least ten thousand by the end of the year.

A giant roamed the path to Maslona, standing eight feet tall and packed with dark, rippling muscles. A giant sword, or rather a rock imitating a sword, was carried in it's large hands, the dull side of it resting against one of the giant's shoulders. It was naked except for metal bracers around his ankles and wrists, and a dull metal plate-skirt around his waist. Not that such a beast needed to wear shoes to protect his feet, as any rocks would no doubt merely be crushed under the weight of this giant.

The giant's name was Herast, a knight of sorts. He was traveling to Maslona to search for work, as traveling knights and mercenaries alike were wont to do in order to feed themselves. So far he was alone on the path to Maslona, although travelers had passed by him on and off as he walked. Some walked with him for a bit, no doubt under the idea that no bandits would waylay such a creature. They were accurate in this thought, as he hadn't been ambushed or troubled yet. He was a bit lonely, however, but merely continued walking.

Dayria walked beside her friend, an exhausted expression was worn on her face. Her face was barely visible, though, by the hood she was wearing. "How long to Maslona?" she yawned. Not getting enough sleep for the last few nights, she started slowing down, but tried to speed up once she saw her friend pick up the pace. After rubbing her eyes, she spoke once again, "Huh, Niami?" She whispered this time.

The queen stands beside her husband's throne, her small hand lain gracefully over an ornamental orb at the head of the chair. She tries to look calm and collected, even as vicious, exacting eyes stare her down from the base of the small platform the thrones are settled on. The loud thunder of voices, all competing over each other for just a moment of her attention, a moment stolen from her finding her child. Antagonizing.

She bites back the sharp words rushing to the tip of her tongue and tries to look upon the crowd with the great composure and sincerity expected of a queen, but the words are all blending together in their harshness, only a roar of half-helping gestures and power plays and noble silliness.

The sudden call of her title breaks her lack of focus, pulling her back into the world before her. The nobles do not cease their chattering, but she tries to focus on the words of the one now bowing before her. "Your Majesty! I have heard of your daughter's disappearance, and I offer my condolences, as well as my vow to you. I hereby swear by blood and by title that I will locate your daughter, and bring her home swiftly! I have ten good men, and fast horses. We can set out within the next half hour." The words merely succeed to strike her as another attempt to win her favor, albeit a more chivalrously posed attempt. She opens her mouth to reply only to hear the boom of thunder in her hall. Not again...

A good number of those seeking her attention fall aside at the sound of magic; the fear of the arcane affects even the educated, it seems. The sounds in the hall falter, finally, to the point of her being able to make out the next words with relative ease. "I am sorry that you had to see that my queen. What has disrupted the serenity of the kingdom, and how may I assist in its restoration?"

For a moment longer, the queen holds her tongue until, finally, a voice far to strong for her small form escapes her. "Enough." Finally, her court falls silent. "Raciall and Valeryn stand. The rest of the court, excepting a notable few," she bows her head in the direction of her husband's advisers, who have stood quietly aside for the duration. "Are to stand in silence unless spoken to."

A moment's pause and the nobles, grumbling but not daft enough to deny the acting monarch's word, shrink away from the platform.

"My daughter is missing." says the small queen simply, fingers tightening on the throne. "Half the city is already out looking for her and the other half has deemed fit to crowd my castle and impede our search. If you wish to help, I'd rather you remain calm. Someone should." Her eyes turn to glide over the crowd, then fall finally again on Valeryn and Raciall. "If you wish to help, I'd appeal you to remain calm and stand at your post but," she looks to the rest of the court. "I have a feeling my advice, in that, will not be heeded. If nothing else, do not allow your tongues to let slip of this incident to anyone. My daughter and her friend must be gently collected and returned. The panic of the country will do nothing to assist that."

She takes a deep breath, through her nose, and draws herself up. "If there is anything else?"

He let his blade fall into the sheath. He took a moment to look over the bodies of the men who had foolishly tryed to rob him.
Worthless killing, over nothing but coin He allowed a small "Hm" at the thought and began to walk again.






It was when a troop of soldiers decided to take him to their city for questioning... Yet they let him keep sword...weather it was out of fear or respect has yet to be seen.

The roads of Maslona were so beautiful, so peaceful, so serene. Vaiven enjoyed riding down the main highway that connected his lands to the capitol. With his favorite horse, Maximilian, of coarse. He loved the feeling of wind rushing through his curled locks. There wouldn't be anybody traveling the roads on a day like today, especially since it was great bandit weather. Vaiven, however, was safe. No bandit would dare to attack the Duke of Maslona on his own road, especially when their lord had a bow on horseback. He brought his horse to a stop when he saw a massive figure in the distance, like a walking oak.

After observing the figure that was slowly coming closer, Vaiven decided to approach his horse slowly. As the distance between the two slimmed, it was clear that the figure was Kapre, and a large one at that. Large was an insult even. Giant was a fitting term. He stopped fifteen feet from the giant. It was obvious that someone of that size wouldn't be following a road to only Maslona unless he was going there to do something. The giant resonated strength, so maybe that something was a bad thing.

"Greetings friend!" Vaiven shouted towards the giant. "What brings you to Maslona?" He asked out of curiosity.

Herast bowed his head slightly in greeting, acknowledging the man who now stood fifteen feet from him atop a horse. He had watched calmly as the man drew closer, sure that a bandit would not be dressed so finely or riding such a steed. His eyes noted the bow, but he felt confident that should this man be some sort of well-dressed bandit that he could close the distance easily enough even with arrows flying at him.

"Work," Herast finally said, rather simply. His voice sounded like an avalanche, vibrating the air violently and resonating with one's eardrums. He raised his massive sword and placed it against the ground, a hand on-top of the hilt to keep it in place. A small gesture of non-violence, or so the giant intended it to be. His eyes settled on the man's own, the fact that he was on horseback not presenting a problem to eye contact for him.

Vaiven's eyes followed the mountain sword as the giant brought it down. It was unbelievable that even this hulking individual could carry such a weapon. He was impressive even though he hadn't even used it. With his size the Kapre could strike Vaiven down with only a single stride, before the horse could even react. He came to Maslona for work no less. The Duchy of Maslona was fielding a large army in a short amount of time, which must have brought in word from all over the world.

"Work, eh? Soldiers work?" Vaiven began. "Maslona has plenty of that these days. Hundreds come each week, looking for some kind of employment. Yep, the states growing alright." He glanced back up the road, then to the man again. "I work for the Duchy. In fact I personally know the Duke of Maslona. I'm sure he'd love to meet you. I know he's been trying to find a new whip. Pays good, the Duchy provides housing and living. Interested?" He paused for a moment. "By the way, I didn't catch your name?"

"I shall seek the aid of the scryers in Troumora. It won't give an exact answer, but it should help to direct the search parties. That is all, my queen." Raciall said with a respectful bow before turning to stare at the other "noble" men and women for a few moments. It was obvious to him that these pampered servants needed to be shown what a valuable noble does, as compared to the meaningless voice that they merged together to become.

After his moment's stare, Raciall walked down the isle. Those among the crowd gave him mixed looks of awe and hate. He more than realized that he occasionally abused the powers that fate had given him, but Raciall tried to avoid unnecessary use. After all, over use of anything is bad for business, politics, and ideology.

Upon exiting the palace, Raciall moved about the near deserted streets of late morning, gathering materials. The trip to Troumora was routine for Raciall, but the decision to go was sudden and if he hoped to keep the ruling family ruling, he needed to head out as soon as possible.

Herast listened dutifully, nodding when the man on horseback asked if it was soldier's work he was looking for and once more when he asked if he was interested. He looked thoughtful while listening and his eyes never strayed from the man's own, not even to blink. He tended to unsettle people when he stared unblinkingly at them, although he didn't ever intend to.

"Herast," He finally said when the man finished, bowing his head and shoulders as he stated his own name. He looked at the horseback man imploringly, silently asking his name in return.

He watched the people mill around hum, seemingly rushing about something important. His escort of guards had taken him to the capital of the local government and planned, from what he heard, to present the "Stranger" to their queen. As the walked inside he couldn't help but notices how well decorated the palace was compared to the town outside. They walked closer, being lightly pushed on by the guards, and came upon what appeared to be a group of noble men/women talking to, who he guessed to be, the queen. He looked at the women for a moment before he was rudely pushed forward by the leader of the group of soldiers. "My queen, I am sorry to interrupt you in this busy time, but we have found a.....a...", the captain could not find a word to describe this person. He had a sword, so perhaps a blade for hire. This is when the stranger spoke Ï am a Ronin, a wandering, master less, warrior of my people." He said this and rose to his feet. And I am looking for work, and it seems you could use some one of my talents...your highness." He bowed in the way of his people and waited for the queens response.

"Herast." Vaiven repeated to himself. "My name is Vaiven, it's a pleasure to meet you." It was indeed. He had been looking for a new whip for quite some time, ever since the flux of new recruits increased so drastically. This man could intimidate anyone into following orders from their superiors, maybe even Vaiven.

"How about we continue to Maslona? There's an outpost only a mile or so up the road. I'll walk with you." He said as he got off his horse. He didn't like to ride when others had to be on foot during casual times like these. He looked up at the giant. "Let's go."

"Mhm," Herast grunted, nodding at Vaiven. He waited a brief moment before starting to walk, keeping his strides short so Vaiven needn't stretch his legs far to keep up. Not that Herast moved very fast to begin with, though. He expected the man would want to discuss something as they walked, and wondered briefly what it would be about, deciding that he would eventually find out in time.

"You can continue riding on horseback if you'd rather," He finally said, the longest sentence out of the giant's mouth in weeks. It's not like they would have trouble speaking face to face even if he was astride a horse, after all.

"I'm fine." Vaiven said as they walked. The walking continued for about an hour until they reached the outpost. He ran his mouth on the beauty of Maslona, since he loved the city so much. It probably got on Herast's nerves though. The outpost was a rather large one actually. It was called Raven's Post. It guarded the main highway and prevented bandits from roaming with regular patrols down the roads. The outpost consisted of sixty men, an inn, a supply shop, and a blacksmith. It was quaint, but fitting.

He led Herast to the inn where he ordered the most expensive items on the menu. Prime beef and tivian wine. The wine came first and Vaiven drank the glass with a few quick gulps. He looked at the wine, then to Herast.

"When you work for the Duke, every meal is fine. What we're about to eat is only five silver, cheap. I'm personally accustomed to wine imported from Ashe. It has a certain sweetness, yet dry as well." He said. Then he got back to business. "I suspect you'll get a starting salary. Does ten thousand silver a year work for you? That is after you've proven yourself, of coarse." A whip to shape up the army would be well worth the pay. Besides, the treasury was in no danger of ever depleting any time soon, especially from a few thousand measly silver.

Herast listened intently as Vaiven talked about Maslona, keeping silent for the most part. He knew little about the city, so he didn't have any he could add to what Vaiven was saying. He looked at Raven's Post with not awe but respect. It might not have been the most impressive outpost he had seen in his travels over a hundred years, but it was definitely up there.

Herast felt slightly awkward as he had to crouch down a bit to fit inside the inn, and once more when he actually sat down. The chair groaned under his weight, which he was very glad held. He would pay the craftsman his respect should he ever cross him on the street.

"Of course," Herast added as Vaiven finished talking, only having taken a few sips of his own wine. He wasn't much of a drinker now-a-days, but he felt it rude to not drink any at all when his companion was already doing so with gusto. It was an odd change of pace given the travel food he had been eating for a large portion of his existence. Which was really whatever he could scrounge up on the road.